#standing a little too close to your partner and discussing how a crime was committed

[leavingautumn13]

i'm being extremely normal about them tonight

[whisker-biscuit]

The Birds, The Bees, and The Bottles

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: T for mild language and discussions of underage drinking

Summary: Two teens are caught trying to sneak into a bar. Bob finally has a conversation he’s held off for far too long.

Because herbaphony is not the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family.

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

Bob’s phone rang at two in the morning. Judging by the jolly ringtone of Helmut singing Strawberry Fields Forever, it was his personal phone instead of his work one, and that was the real tip off to things being very, very wrong.

He woke up and groggily pulled out of his still-slumbering-husband’s arms to answer the little thing going off on his nightstand.

“H’lo?”

“Bob!” Truman’s voice came out far too loud for the time of night, and far too stressed. “Bob, I’m so sorry to wake you, but something happened with Lili. I need you to pick her up for me, please.”

The older man sat up, much more awake as worry and fear immediately rolled in his gut. Helmut finally began to stir beside him, sensing his partner’s agitation.

“Truman, what’s going on? Pick Lili up from where?”

“The city’s police precinct on Abbey Avenue. She – she called me, but I’m out of state and I wouldn’t get there for hours at least even if I left this instant. She’s not in danger!” He added hastily, hearing the concern before Bob could even voice it mentally. “She didn’t get hurt! She’s just…”

The way he tapered off, the way he hesitated, said more than words could.

“She just got herself into some trouble, and she needs someone to go get her.”

Helmut was sitting up now, and Bob felt the question cross their mental link.

 What happened?

 Truman needs me to pick Lili up from the police station.

“I’m up, I’m on my way right now,” He responded to his nephew verbally, heaving himself out of bed. His husband followed suit despite still looking extremely puzzled, bless him.

“Thank you so much, Bob. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The older man waved a dismissive hand even though Truman wasn’t there to see it. “Family is s’pposed to do that for each other anyway.”

“Did I hear that right? Our peppy petunia had a run-in with the law?” Helmut asked as soon as his partner hung up. He paused, and in a lower tone – “she didn’t kill anyone, did she?”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” Bob said, pulling a coat on over his sleep shirt. “But something tells me we still have a few things to worry about. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Ohohoh, no, don’t even think about hoofin’ it without me. We both know I’m the better driver.”

“Neither of us are very good drivers, Helmut.”

“Exactly! That little bit makes all the difference!”

The herbophanist sighed, charmed despite himself and the situation. “Alright, alright. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

The police precinct was nearly dead at this time of night. While it would’ve felt eerie to anyone else, Bob was grateful for the lack of people, and not just because he was still an introvert of the highest degree.

Two teenagers awaited them in the lobby, sitting on a bench together. One was hunched over and burning a hole in the ground with his downcast eyes. The other sat straight up, defiant, holding a glaring contest with the officer standing over them. When Bob entered the room first and met his great-niece’s eyes, her self-assuredness wavered for a brief moment. She hid the slip-up behind a wall of indifference.

“Lili,” he said softly. Then, just as softly but with a gruff tinge of surprise; “Razputin.”

There was no accusation in his voice, but the former scowled harder and the latter looked like he wanted to employ his invisibility. Bob studied them both a moment before his husband appeared and broke the tension with his mere presence.

“We’re here to bust you out, kiddos!” He announced with spread arms, cheerfully ignoring the looks he received from every person in the room.

“Are you Truman Zanotto?” Asked the officer who finally broke his gaze away from Lili to give them a disapproving once-over.

“No, I’m uh, I’m Bob Zanotto, and this is Helmut,” came the awkward reply. “Truman called me to pick Lili up. She’s my great-niece.”

A few seconds of silence passed as the officer made no move to do anything with that information. Bob cleared his throat.

“We’re, uh, listed in her emergency contacts for school?”

“I see. If you can just fill out some paperwork first, we can release her into your custody.”

The herbophanist watched the way Raz seemed to sink further in his seat at the mention of family contacts. The Aquatos were also out of state right now too, if he remembered correctly. Perfect timing for two minors getting up to mischief.

Well, up until they were actually caught.

“And…Razputin, too?” He asked, catching the teen’s startled gaze and giving him the mental equivalent of a thumbs-up.

The officer raised a brow. “Is he related to you, too?”

“Well, uh –”

“Yep!” Helmut interrupted, strolling right up to Raz and giving him a merry clap on the back. The teen had a physique comparable to most adult Olympic athletes, but even he nearly toppled forward from the force of such a big man. “He’s my third cousin, twice removed. Big family. Very close. Holidays are an experience, lemme tell ya!”

“Fine,” the officer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, okay, I’ll make sure he gets cleared for release too. I’ll be right back.”

He stalked off, muttering something about it ‘being too damn early for this’, and the older couple turned to face Raz and Lili. Helmut steepled his fingers together to rest against his mustache.

“So! Now that Officer Spoil-Sport is gone, are we allowed to know what heinous crime has been committed in the night by my favorite pair of mischief-makers?”

The two glanced at each other. Raz was the one to break their silence.

“We, uh…got caught sneaking into a bar.”

Cold heat rushed through Bob’s core. Helmut blinked once, twice, then let out a boisterous chuckle.

“That’s it? Jesus! From the way you two were acting I thought you’d robbed the First National Bank.”

“…Helmut.” His husband murmured. The psi-king lost his mirth as he caught Bob’s eye.

“Ah…w-well, y’know, while I’m certainly glad we won’t hear about a righteous homicide in the news tomorrow, forgery ain’t exactly a humble hobby either.”

“It was just two IDs,” Lili muttered under her breath. “Not a big deal.”

The ice in her great-uncle’s heart turned frigid, but before he or Helmut could say anything to that, the officer was back. He shoved a handful of forms under Bob’s nose and the herbophanist fumbled to grab them before they all tumbled to the floor.

“Uh, uh, thank you.”

“Alright, we’re putting the pause on this conversation to make you free citizens again, but don’t think that means we’re done with it.” The Psi-King gave the teens the sternest look he could manage. “As soon as we get in the car, you two will have a lot of explaining to do.”

“O-Okay.”

“Uh-huh.”

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

No one spoke a word as they got in the car and started the drive back.

Raz seemed content to continue his efforts to blend in with the background of his seat, still not meeting anyone’s eyes, and Lili stared out the window with her chin in her hand, leaning against the car’s backdoor and letting the lights of the city bathe her in neon sickness.

Helmut, bless his soul, dutifully kept the radio going while he drove, changing the station to something more mellow whenever a song started getting a little too upbeat for the collective mood of the vehicle. Bob sat in the passenger side with his arms folded awkwardly. His brain was buzzing, dreading the inevitable conversation he needed to have with his great-niece and trying to figure out how he was going to go about it.

It surprised them all when Raz spoke over the music.

“It was my idea.”

The two adults glanced at each other, then through the rearview mirror at the fidgeting teen.

“Your idea to go looking for a drink? Or to sneak into a bar to do it?” Helmut asked, turning off the radio.

“Both.”

He still wasn’t meeting their eyes. Bob sighed through his nose.

“I don’t believe you.”

Razputin’s head finally snapped up to stare at him in shock for the fast call on his bluff. “I’m telling the truth!”

“I think you’re only telling part of it, kid.”

“No! I’m telling all of it.”

“Razpu-”

“Oh, come off it, Raz,” Lili snapped a little too loud, making the whole car jump. “Quit trying to take the fall for me. It was my idea to try the stupid fake ID thing, okay? Happy now?”

“Wh – uh, who said anything about being happy about it?” Helmut asked, legitimately confused.

“Look. Neither of us had anything to do tonight, and we were bored, so Raz suggested getting a drink somewhere, but Adam and Lizzie are out of town so we couldn’t ask them.” She crossed her arms and spoke without any inflection. “So, we went out but no one would let us do anything cause we’re minors. I thought that was stupid, because we’re agents same as any of you, so I came up with the sneaking-in part. We only got caught cause one of the bartenders recognized Raz from a show.”

There were a lot of loaded things to parse through from that explanation, but Bob’s mind stalled on one particular detail.

“Adam and Lizzie give you two alcohol?”

“Not…often,” Raz admitted. “Just once or twice, when we asked.”

“Do you mean like, a literal once or twice, or a…an estimated once or twice?”

“Did Dad put you up to this?” Lili shot back. “It was just a few times, like he said. What’s with the inquisition?”

“…Lili –”

 “Raz.”

“Okay!” Helmut proclaimed as he slapped his hand against the steering wheel in boisterous aggression. “Who wants some ice cream?”

Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Cause I’m really feeling some chocolate-vanilla swirl right now. Basic bitch style. Right? Who’s with me?”

Silence.

“Great! Look at that, open Dairy King right there, better take advantage of this opportunity before it slips through our fingers like the melting ice cream we’re all gonna have in about five minutes!”

The psi-king swung into the parking lot in a frenzy and herded the car crew inside before any of them could come out of their shock long enough to protest. It was only as Bob was staring up at fifteen flavors of oversaturated sugary goodness that he realized what had just happened.

He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief over his husband’s diversion. The tension that had been boiling over was cooled significantly by the sudden non-sequitur, and while the teens were rather half-hearted about picking out their sweet treats, there was no longer a risk of an explosion happening.

Metaphorically and literally.

Helmut caught his spouse’s eye with a meaningful look at Lili the moment all of them had their orders in hand, then slung his arm around Razputin’s shoulders and steered him away. “C’mon my lad! Nothing like the cool night air of three in the morning to keep your Hurricane ™ properly chilled!”

The poor boy had no choice but to let himself be pulled outside, leaving the two Zanottos standing awkwardly in the dingy restaurant. Bob gave a nervous scratch at his chin under his beard.

“How about we, uh, find a seat somewhere?”

Lili couldn’t fully cross her arms while holding ice cream, but she did a good job of making it work anyway. “Sure.”

They sat in a booth in the farthest corner from the front counter. Both great-niece and great-uncle stared at their respective sweet treats as if they could teleport them out of this situation. Bob glanced out the window and saw Helmut and Raz standing outside of the car. The former was on one knee with his hand on the teen’s shoulder, speaking earnestly but inaudibly, and the latter was scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the asphalt.

“Are you going to lecture me?” Lili finally cut through the silence.

Bob turned back to her. “No. Not really.”

“No?” She broke her gaze away from her ice cream just a little bit, eyeing him with surprise. “Then why did Helmut take Raz and leave us alone?”

She was so perceptive, so smart. And yet, still so young.

“Well, I… I still want to talk to you about what happened. I’m just not very, good, at this kind of thing.” He took his spoon and absentmindedly began drawing a flower in his soft-serve. “You already know what you did wasn’t a good idea, right? So I don’t think a lecture would help things any on that front.”

She didn’t respond. He continued.

“It’s less about the fake ID and more…the reasons you made the fake ID. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so, but I know what I’m doing, Uncle Bob. I’m not going to drink irresponsibly.”

The herbophanist shook his head. “But you’ll do irresponsible things to be able to drink in the first place.”

“That’s not –” Lili didn’t have a good rebuttal. She folded her arms and grumpily started eating her cherry chocolate delight. “Whatever. It’s two different things, anyway.”

Against his better judgement, Bob began picking at his own food as he thought about how best to bring the subject back up without making the teen defensive again. Spoons clicking against teeth was the only sound between them for a solid minute.

Finally, an epiphany.

“Did Truman ever…tell you anything, about your great-grandma?”

The girl paused with a bite halfway up to her mouth. She frowned, confused. “Grandma Tia? Not much. Just that she died when he was a baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she did.” He ran a tired hand over his face. The ache in his heart might have long-since healed into a scar, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when pressed. “She passed away when I was nineteen. The doctors told me it was liver failure.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Lili’s mouth thinned and she put her spoon down, uncomfortable.

“When I…found out the reason behind her death, I was horrified by it. It didn’t make sense to me why she would willingly do something that hurt her so badly, especially when I was right there to love her and help her. It felt like a betrayal that she never got help or made herself stop. I was…disgusted by the mere thought of doing anything like that.”

Bob took a moment to breathe and wipe his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but better safe than sorry.

“It sounds pretty hypocritical when I say it now, doesn’t it?”

His great-niece only gave him a hesitant look.

“Anyway, uh, where was I…” He worried his lip. “Oh, right. I told myself that I’d never touch the stuff after that. I was angry at what she’d done, and I was determined not to have the same ‘weakness’, so to speak. As you know, it, uh, it didn’t last long. I was at a college party barely a year later when I was invited by some friends to drink with them. I didn’t make human friends very easily back then – actually, I still don’t – so I was a little desperate to keep them. It turned out to be pretty hard whiskey, so I got hammered.”

The man leaned back in his seat, staring at the patterns in the booth table.

“Back then, no one really knew how alcoholism could run in a family. Everyone thought it was a personal choice to keep drinking. It wasn’t even classified as an addiction yet. So I didn’t know how susceptible I was, or how careful I had to be. I’d spend months not having a single drink, thinking I was fine and could handle myself, and then I’d get plastered for a week at parties and bars and God knows what else, and it would take me even longer to get myself to stop again. It was like that even when I was with Ford and his gang. It wasn’t until I started dating Helmut that I started trying to change those habits. I’d never met anyone who loved me so unconditionally that I wanted to be a better person for them, until him. And it worked for a while.

“Well, barring our wedding, of course. I got shitfaced at the reception. It was embarrassing afterwards, but Helmut told me it made our cake-eating ceremony a hell of a great time.”

Lili snorted, and it was accompanied by a tiny upturn of her lips. Then it dropped as her expression became solemn. “And then…everything with Maligula happened, right?”

“Yeah. I think you know the rest of that story.”

“Uh-huh.”

Great-niece and great-uncle sat together for a while, just thinking about it all.

“I know I have to be more careful drinking than a lot of people, Uncle Bob,” Lili finally said at length. “My dad warned me about it when I was old enough to ask.”

“Truman is a good dad,” he murmured in response.

“The best dad.”

“Definitely the best dad.”

More silence.

“I didn’t mean to worry you and him,” she continued. “Or scare you. I know it was dumb to do what we did tonight.”

Bob looked at her, and she gave a conceding sigh.

“Okay, it was dumb to do a lot of what we’ve been doing with this stuff. That doesn’t mean I’m not being careful.”

“Kid, it’s not always just a matter of being careful. I thought I was being careful. I thought that for years and years, and when I finally realized I wasn’t, I convinced myself I could stop any time I wanted to, and kept up the same patterns anyway. That’s what I’m trying to get you to understand. I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. I’m just worried about you.”

Lili closed her eyes with a grimace. “I know. I’m sorry, Uncle Bob.”

“Hey, kiddo, look at me.” He waited until she did so. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not disappointed, either. That’s your dad’s job. I get it, is what I’m saying. It gives you a buzz, and it’s fun and exciting, and you just wanted to have a good time with your, uh…”

Bob leaned in a bit, and dropped his voice to a stage whisper.

“Is Raz still your boyfriend?”

“Wha –” her cheeks went red. “Yes, he is!”

“Alright, sorry, I’m just always out of the loop. No one ever tells me when these things change or not. Anyway,” he continued before she could get brighter than the cherries in her ice cream. “I’m just saying that you gotta be more than careful with this kind of thing. Everyone should be, really, but especially people like us. Plants aren’t the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family, unfortunately, so we just have to be aware of it and act accordingly.”

The teen turned this over in her mind. He could practically see the gears moving. When she looked at him again, it was with a slow, contemplative nod.

“No more late-night bar-hopping?” Her great-uncle asked.

“No more late-night bar-hopping.” She answered, sincere.

“Good.” He looked outside. Helmut and Raz were both lying on the front of the car, pointing out stars to each other. The sight made him smile. “Come on, we’ll work on that whole thing about Adam and Lizzie giving you alcohol another time, when it’s not three in the morning. For now, let’s rejoin our boys again and go get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.” Lili slid out of the booth and tentatively took her family member’s hand. His fingers squeezed hers in reassurance. “And...thanks, Uncle Bob.”

“Well, what can I say. Us weird Zanotto plant people hafta look out for each other, right?”

“Right.”

They walked out together, hand-in-hand.

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

A/N: I knew from promotional material that we'd be going into the mind of someone struggling with alcoholism, but Bob's Bottles punched me hard in the gut. It's probably my favorite mind in the game, both because it's visually gorgeous and because it hit a little close to home with some of the themes, like generational alcoholism and how the addiction can make someone a shell of themselves.

I wrote half of this three weeks ago and then found myself really struggling to finish it because it brought up a lot of old feelings I thought I'd sorted through a long time ago.

Psychonauts, man.

[ronsenburg]

i saw this post and IMMEDIATELY started writing an essay, so I moved it here so as not to clutter up someone else’s post...........

it absolutely blows my mind that, today in 2021, i honestly can’t remember what’s canon from the turnabout serenade case, what i read in a fanficition, and what is my own personal HC. like, it’s been more than a decade since i played the case for the first time and it’s probably been 5ish years since the last time i played AJ (definitely forgot to play it again before writing youngblood which is.... contributing to this) so i really don’t know if what goes on in my head is accurate, but, over the years, i’ve come up with a Lot of Thoughts, which i’ll discuss below. 

tldr; it’s all about power (the desire for, the subversion of, the need to maintain), but if you’d like the specifics, here you go:

daryan: i think the explanation that he did it for “the money” is a line. please don’t mistake me, daryan is an asshole and a murderer, im not discounting that, but in court ive always thought that he was playing the part that everyone- especially klavier- is expecting of him. he’s the bad guy. might as well make it a finale for the books.

i’ve always seen daryan and klavier as opposite sides of the same coin when it comes to family and career aspirations. where i imagine klavier came from a well off and well loved family before his parents died, i see daryan from a working class, difficult upbringing. i read a few papers on the psychology of children/parenting style of police officers and decided early on that daryan’s dad was also a cop. his mother is either dead or (more likely) left them early on. dad coped by working a little too hard, gambling/drinking a little too much, and was overall not around a lot and kind of an authoritarian/controller when he was. it left daryan with a lot of anger he had to cope with, about what it means to be a cop, the idea of a “just cause” and the ends justifying the means, and an issue with authority (which is laughable, considering what a bully he turned out to be. sometimes we emulate our parents unintentionally; it’s the only thing we have to model our behavior on). so daryan started off at a disadvantage. klavier started off loved and supported and surrounded by expensive belongings, but the death of his parents and the subsequent emotional and financial abuse by his newly appointed guardian/brother left him in a similar place by the time he and daryan met. i think it was probably the foundation for their bond, and i think it’s why klavier decided to become a prosecutor instead of following in his brother’s footsteps and why daryan ultimately decided to enter law enforcement as well. i think they had a lot of optimistic, idealistic thoughts on being better than the people that hurt them, on utilizing the law to make the world a better place. i don’t think klavier ever conceived that kristoph could have wanted him in the prosecutors office as another pawn to play, and i don’t think he realized how fluid daryan’s morality could be.

shipping alert—you guys know me, im crazy for the idea of a “best friends to on again off again lovers to tenuous coworkers to bitterly disappointed in but still harboring feelings for the other person despite being on opposite sides” dynamic between daryan and klavier. i honestly can’t separate the ship from the case and im sorry about it. if you read youngblood you know that i think daryan started to resent klavier pretty early on, when they were still together, when the band was still successful, because klavier was able to move forward and work through the issues of his past while daryan was seemingly stuck. yes, daryan had made detective and the gavinners were a hit, he’d risen above his initial social standing and thrown off the control his father, he had money and fame and a future. but everything he had was because of klavier. daryan needed klavier, emotionally, morally, financially. but even when klavier was professing his love for daryan, both privately and in the form of chart topping songs, he didn’t need daryan. it was obvious (and of course, healthy, but how do children of abuse learn what a healthy relationship looks like without help? especially when the only relationships you’ve ever had are codependent and, in some ways, just as toxic?) and so things spiraled. daryan got possessive and angry again and klavier got distant and they broke up and got back together and broke up and didn’t get back together but kept ending up back in each other’s arms for comfort and for support and because how the hell do you move on when the person you’ve been in love with since you were 15 is sitting next to you on a tour bus and is also your partner in a homicide case and singing songs he wrote about you on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans?

okay, shipping glasses off, sorry. but no matter how you look at their relationship, daryan’s promotion out of homicide was probably the most distance they’d had from each other in years, as it removed a large chunk of the daily “working relationship” aspect. and without klavier there to act as a moral compass, it was likely easier to slip back into his earlier thoughts about what constitutes justice and his intense hatred of being pushed around by someone who has more power than you. so enter the chief justice with a son who is sick, dying even, but can’t get the medicine he needs because there’s a government out there telling them no. The reasons are arbitrary: the medicine could be used as a poison and can’t be found anywhere else so it might come back to bite the country in the ass if it’s misused by criminals. newsflash: pretty much all medicine is poisonous if it isn’t used correctly, should we stop using penicillin entirely because some people might be allergic to it? they’ve essentially condemned a whole bunch of people to death because they’re worried about their reputation. and that doesn’t sit well with daryan, who is caught up remembering the bullshit justifications his dad would spout when he knocked him around, that kristoph would give when withholding every single penny of money klavier was entitled to until he agreed to do what kristoph wanted. it isn’t right, it isn’t fair and unfair laws shouldn’t have to be upheld, especially when they’re the unfair laws of a country you most definitely did not swear to uphold and protect. it was never about money, though daryan agrees to take it when the chief offers it to him, more for his comfort level than for daryan’s need or desire. it’s about justice and putting a bully in it’s place with a (seemingly) victimless crime that should be so easy given his role in the international division of criminal affairs and klavier’s sudden hard on for the country of borginia. seriously, how could this have been any more straightforward? daryan is capable of murder, though. all cops are. and if it came down to a “them or me” shootout, of course he’d pull the trigger. 

machi: when you come from nothing, the desire to have something of your own is overwhelming. the idea that machi is famous and financially set is disingenuous; he is not individually famous, he is Lamiroir’s “blind” pianist. yes, she views him as a son and seems to care deeply for him, but his main purpose in her life is to perpetuate a lie. machi has been abandoned before; what will happen to him if lamiroir suddenly remembers who she was in the past? what if she has a family and a true son of her own and has no use for him? what if their secret is found out and the public rejects him for his role in it? he is 14. what does he know about being provided for? about contracts and trust funds and royalties? he ended up in an orphanage originally because he was unwanted, and that led to a life of poverty and hardship. abandonment issues are rooted in fear and are rarely logical. i find it far easier to believe that machi did it for the money, but more for the power money might have given him towards independence in an unfeeling and capitalist world.

kristoph: i won’t get into this, because this is supposed to be about daryan and machi and the guitar’s serenade, and kristoph is not really involved in that at all. but i think everything that kristoph has ever done in the game, good or bad, is rooted in a pathological need to constantly be in control. i think that kristoph and klavier both have very intense personalities that they have sought to control over the course of their lives for the sake of their careers. kristoph believes that to be a good lawyer, you need to play your cards close to your chest, that to show your hand is to expose a weakness that the enemy can exploit, that to show no weaknesses at all places you in a position of power. klavier believes that to show his true self, to display his weaknesses and fears to the public, would result only in their rejection. as such, they both wear masks of their own creation even under the most intense of pressures: kristoph as pleasant and calm, klavier as magnetic and dynamic. note the primary difference in their rational? klavier wants to be wanted, while kristoph wants power. and power corrupts, after all. once you have it, what could be more overwhelming than the idea that you might lose it all? it can drive even the most rational people to commit acts of passionate irrationality in the name of holding on to that power. and kristoph has so many pieces involved in his strategy to maintain.  

[littlemisswriter]

Reveal

Summary:

After the death of Pearl Attaway, their is an undeniable rift between Lily and Jacob. She feels as if he was easily mislead, unsure if he too had desired the attention of the older woman; now understanding yet realizing how her obvious feelings towards him would cause nothing but distractions, she distances herself. Though her actions have not gone unnoticed, Jacob is frustrated by her stubbornness yet disheartened by her missing presence as he had grown quite fond of his new partner in crime. However, with both assassins heightened by their emotions, the truth eventually unveils itself, the result being one Lily had not expected but welcomes warmly nevertheless.

[Hey everyone!! Feeling much better physically but still a little down in the dumps mentally, but don’t worry, I’m okay :) I am still writing, but I decided to give you a draft I had written for a long time. This was originally a scene I had based in the plot of my Syndicate book but I’m reconsidering its plot! So please enjoy x]

The afternoon sunlight had eventually slipped beyond reveal and left London to bask in the night. There was still movement of people sauntering through the streets and others finding refuge in nearby pubs in each borough. Though for some men and women who adorned the color of the Rooks, they found themselves festive after the assassination of yet another threat.

The handful that had been at Waterloo station to claim supplies from those with now cold hands sat back with a drink; and the few from that select group had found themselves comfortably aboard Bertha. All scattered across the carriage from the booth to bar, one would expect the atmosphere to be light.

Yet it had not been. For the leader stood emotionless at the bar, fingers tightly clasped around his ale as his eyes set to the shelves of alcohol before him. His mood had been dulled and all that could see this were concerned as it had been out of his normality.

"Mister Frye," a Rook that stood beside him had been bold enough to speak up. A man that was beginning to build trust with his boss from his unquestionable loyalty, and perhaps even a friendship, "somethin' on your mind?" The assassin could only scoff under his breath before drowning down the rest of his drink.

"Just dandy." His sarcasm hadn't gone unnoticed, though the Rook continued to tread lightly. It hadn't been much of a conversation nor a celebration despite Jacob's attempt to lighten his own mood.

But she has been vacant of her presence, and very much unimpressed by his actions as of late. A reaction he would expect from his sister, but never from her. Maybe that was his own naïveté assuming such things.

The locomotive slowly clamored down the tracks, passing through each borough and making way around London. The few on the train were unsuspecting to the pair of feet making haste beside them. The gravel crunched underneath the shoes and flung carelessly as a body leapt up and onto the train.

Hands grasping to the rails as they straightened their stance, a light sigh slipped past their lips. Their face remained covered momentarily as they made way into the nearest carriage. Gloved hands pulled the hood away, long brown hair slipping down past her shoulders as her identity came to light once more.

A wall between her and the now prominent sound of others stood tall, emerald eyes caught in the glimpses of candle light as she made way around into the open carriage.

Her presence was immediately recognized, a few Rooks calling to her in greeting as she tipped a halfhearted smile in response. "Miss 'arvard!" The acknowledgment of Lily's entrance had sparked the attention of Jacob, the man instinctively straightening his hands as his eyes bore into his partners. She had been unsuspecting to what she might walk into, though it should have come of no surprise to her by Jacob's presence. After all, they did reside on the locomotive together when not out redeeming London from the Templar's clutch.

Her heart could have skipped a beat, fists tightening subconsciously as her stare met his. His face had changed to something more of curiosity and... worry? But what he was worried about was uncertain; if was of her whereabouts late that night or perhaps a near conflict between the two, he hadn't been sure yet. Their gaze didn't last long, Lily snapping herself back to reality with a tightening of her jaw.

The night had been long and her muscles worn from distracting her emotions with undergrounds fights. Of course she had come out as a victor, her anger blind sighting her from any thoughts of loss in the ring. Her knuckles still pulsated red raw though now they were nothing but a dull ache. A scrap to her cheek and a lucky blow to her side was all but forgotten as she made way through the carriage.

Rooks had greeted her once more as she passed by, some offering small smiles while others a tip of their hats. "Miss Harvard," the Rook beside Jacob gave her a warm smile, tipping his own cap as she had politely returned the gesture with a nod. Her face remained taught as she bypassed her partner, body unable to stop from tensing as she felt nothing else but his proximity in the carriage.

There had been a moment of doubt, if she had been overreacting or causing more ruckus than she truly believed she needed to. But her thoughts diminished as quickly as they came, standing true to her own beliefs and expectancy of how one member of the Creed treats another. She had needed Jacob to trust her, to pull away from his close forming partnership with Pearl Attaway, but he was stubborn; just as much as she was, and was committed to seeing it through. Why Lily had reclined away from the woman so quickly she still hadn't quite settled yet. Was it due to the manipulating mannerisms or dark intentions covered with a silky smooth coax, or that she had caught the attention of her partner, displaying an obvious interest in the young assassin to a somewhat sexual extent?

Her fists tightened once more as she slammed the carriage door shut as she had open, exhaling a suddenly heavy breathe. Taking a moment in the cold yet refreshing air, she felt her hair whip lightly around her face as her eyes closed to enjoy the moment of simply nothing. Everything had been pent up for so long, a burden now taking place in her chest as a growing weight. But she ignored it, as with every other horrible emotion that had slipped past her barriers. Believing that there was even the slightest chance of a more romantic partnership with Jacob sounded nothing now but poppycock; her mind leading her astray with how well they worked together, how much the reveled in each others impulsive actions.

'Such a fool.' Her eyes slowly peeked open once more as she stepped across and into the carriage before her. Inventory and crafting materials surrounded her as she glanced around the room before making way through to the first carriage. But she was suddenly stopped, her muscles tensing again once more by a mere voice that she couldn't seem to get out of her head. "Lily," it was enough to halt her in her path, though she hadn't dared to look back. Not yet. "I..." His voice cleared, shutting the door and making way slowly to the woman he had followed; his partner. "Where were you today?"

She had made herself scarce, too intense of her own feelings and unaware of how to express them properly. So she hid from him, in hopes he wouldn't ask questions as he was now.

"Causing havoc." She was blatant, head having not yet turned despite hearing the slow sudden footsteps approach her from behind. The air was still, the silence deafening as Jacob looked down at the assassin. His brows drew together in confusion as he waited for Lily to look back at him.

"I would hope so." His attempt to lighten the situation had only had Lily's shoulders drop, the tension slipping from those muscles, yet not away completely. "We raided supplies from the Templars," another attempt, even hoping for even the slightest praise, something that would break her barrier and relax around him once more. And in a sense it had, though looks could be deceiving.

Lily turned her head, looking over her shoulder to again meet the awaiting stare of Jacob. His eyes darted between her own in a sense of waiting though it had only been met with a nod. "Good." A one worded answer. Her eyes drifted away, Jacob almost longing to hold her gaze as she made way to the end carriage again.

No. He couldn't let her go, not that easily. There was a rift and it needed to be mended. He wanted his partner back, to stand by his side as they reclaimed control from the Templars. "Lily, wait!" He had called, hastily walking after her as she slipped out the door and into the awaiting carriage. A bed, desk, warm fire and quiet room had been expecting her presence. As she had it, but was not expecting the intrusion of the younger twin, following her as he had in stubbornness. "Talk to me!"

"About what, Jacob?" Her head shook as she came by the study counter, beginning to tug away at her gauntlet though careful enough not to inflict any damage onto her person. "What is there to discuss?"

"This! Where we are," he came forward, outstretching his arms in a motion towards her, "I cannot bare another day of being ignored!" His choice of words had Lily's expression twitch in annoyance, slamming down her hidden blade as her attention turned hastily to the man, brows furrowed and jaw tightened.

"Oh, you don't like being ignored do you?" Her reference sparking confusion to the twin.

"What are you talking about? When have I ignored you, Lily?" 'When you had become captivated by another woman.' A Templar nevertheless that played him like a fiddle as he allowed her too. The thought having Lily's fists ball as she bit her tongue, wanting nothing more than to yell at his stupidity as well as her own. But she didn't, being taught better to manage her emotions by pretending they were not to exist. So she shook her head, turning once again to make way to the brandy sitting idly on the counter. It wouldn't fix anything, but it would reduce the intensity of her feelings.

Jacob scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through his hair as he watched her pour a glass of much needed relief. Though she struggled not to tighten her hand too tightly and break the glass, another problem she had not needed.

The silence had seeped through once again, dragging out the tension that coated thick to the air around them. She pushed away the brandy and made way to the chair before the fire. "Why won't you speak to me? Lily," he strode boldly across the carriage to come beside the fireplace, laying eyes down at her as she simply stared into the flames, "I cannot fix a problem if I do not know what it is." The circumstance had been worthy of hair tugging, to most not even worth the bother. But Jacob had stayed, almost surprising himself as he hadn't tolerated an argument this long with Evie.

Though even when they fought, she was his blood, his sibling, and deep down knew that she would never abandon him. That he would not lose her. But Lily... there was that possibility. A chance that he could lose her; her energy, her strength, her brutality when she fought, and that damned smile that had grown on him. Silence again as Jacob dug the tips of his fingers into his hips in frustration, not getting anywhere with Lily as his mind began to run wild on all the worst outcomes that may arise.

She sat, hands still tight yet forcing the drink to her lips. Explaining her emotions wasn't something she did often, and even now if she had wished too, she hadn't been sure of what to say to the assassin about what she felt. How would she even begin to word it? How could she say something so ridiculous and not expect to be ridiculed about it?

Yet... glancing at Jacob to see how pent up he was had softened her shoulders a bit. Her eyes cast to the expression of concern clearly etched over his face. He was deep in thought, contemplating his next action as she sat restricted behind her barrier. There was a longing to go back to their close partnership, to be as reckless as they were before. But if they were to possibly get to that point again than Lily had needed to at least verbalize some of the feelings off her chest.

The thought of being so vulnerable had her eyes clench shut as she turned her chin down to her chest as if relaying an unwanted bad memory. An action that hadn't gone unnoticed. Jacob could see she was fighting something, struggling to expose exactly what had kept her so distant from him. And despite it all, seeing her like this... he didn't like it. His heart could wrench at watching the assassin in so much turmoil. He softened. "Talk to me," just above a whisper, a tone that nudged at Lily in a way that she too had softened, "that's all I want."

It came as a sort of plea, her eyes slowly peeking open again to see Jacob now waiting patiently, desperate for communication. The way he looked at her had her heart clench, a stifled shudder slipping past her lips. Lily fought it with everything she had, but her barrier had been broken whether she liked it or not. And knew deep down that it had been broken for a little while now. She would succumb to it eventually, and as her body steadily fell limp under Jacob's gaze, she gave in.

" I tried," she sighed, looking back to the fire as Jacob stood eager to her response, lips sealed tight as he couldn't believe she had actually begun to speak, "I tried to tell you. I did," she shook her head, "but you would not listen." Her mind whirring as she attempted to organize her words into coherent sentences so they would make sense as she spoke. To clearly express what was bothering her so Jacob understood. She had no intention of repeating herself otherwise. "She was manipulating you. It was the way she-" a lump in her throat had cut her off, though with a breath she swallowed it down bravely and continued. "It was the way she was with you."

The mere mention of himself had Jacob's eyes widen slightly, leaning back in surprise that she had felt so strongly at how he was being tricked by a Templar.

"She was deceiving you, Jacob. And when you did not listen... I gave up." The words began to flow as she began to speak from a place that she had never trusted to speak for her before. The heart. "I couldn't stand to watch it. I cannot stand to see you be deceived. So I left you and your fate in your own hands." She quickly glanced up at the assassin, immediately regretting her decision by the self-conscious feeling that washed over her. So she took another drink to calm her nerves. "Jacob," she sighed, sitting up straighter in the chair as her eyes pulled the opposite way, towards a corner sitting in the shadows beside the fireplace, "before I came to London, I was alone. Everything I did, I only ever relied on myself. Matters of missions, to drinking," Lily glanced to her own glasses at the irony, "and everything in between."

Her words had made her vulnerable, almost fragile before him. Seeing her speak to him like this for the first time, it had his heart race. He wanted to comfort her and become understanding of what she had truly felt all this time. But more than anything, he wanted to help stop the negative emotions, the feelings of loneliness and self-independence; for he knew very well what it was like to indulge in such beliefs.

"And then one day I impulsively jumped on a train that led me straight to London." She huffed a dry chuckle, no humor evident as if relaying a sad memory. "And here, I met Henry. Evie..." Now committed to her words, her eyes shyly looked up to Jacob's once more, giving in to the vulnerability of her heat. "And you." He swallowed back, the moment having caught him wrapped tightly in all that was Lily Harvard. "And then, we became partners," a twinge of a sad smile tipped at the corner of her lips, "and we're just as reckless and wild as each other. That's how our partnership is." The words sat on the tip of her tongue, her mind still hesitating, screaming at her to stop talking. But it appeared it had been too late. "Until it changed."

Jacob took a step forward, head tilting slightly as he glanced down at her entirety before back into windows of the eyes that hid away everything that was Lily. This was new to him, but he was not scared nor had he any intentions to leave. "What changed?" He muttered, taking another slow step forward closer to her as she sighed, looking down to her drink while giving it a light swirl.

"The way I am with you." Her heart clenched, she could physically feel it as she bit back on her bottom lip. It was out. Everything she had tried to deny and ignored now lay open to the world between them. And all she feared, the rejection and the vulnerability lay in anticipation before them.

The twin assassin had understood, his feet leading him where he had wanted to go without a second thought. Kneeling down steadily as he watched Lily throw back the rest of her drink in a lame attempt to calm her nerves. She hadn't known what to expect, but she was scared to find out.

"Lily," she couldn't help but recoil at his tone, any word he said would have had her react as such. Her body becoming tense once again as she clearly avoided eye contact with Jacob. His heart beat through his chest as he raised his hand, reaching it out to encase her own in his. She flinched, snapping her head towards him with wide eyes, though he looked at her with nothing but warmth.

Perhaps... perhaps this hadn't of been as bad as she originally thought.

"You're truly daft," he lightly chuckled, pulling her hand towards him as his eyes remained on hers. A gasp leaving her lips suddenly as he slipped his fingers through hers for the first time. The warmth of the action and what exactly it meant sent a jolt of energy through Lily's body. She was shocked, caught off guard that Jacob had understood and reciprocated her feelings, "to not know that..." Now it was his turn to take an extra needed breathe. Discovering this confession hadn't of been as easy as all that, and how Lily's hesitation was validated, "that I've felt the same way. And you've been so blind to it." He squeezed her hand, leaning up on his knee and over the arm rest of the chair. "That I've longed your touch..."

His inched closer, breath now softly hitting the side of her face as she looked away in a sort of bashfulness. She couldn't believe how she was acting, anyone else having witnessed such actions would believe she had come down with a cold of some kind.

"Lily, Lily please look at me." She took a moment, but eventually locked eyes with him once more. The light tug of Jacob's hand in hers had her body subconsciously lean closer in the chair. "I want nothing more than you, in this moment." His breath now fanning across her face and sending a chill up her spine. "I never want to fight like that again. I thought..." Jacob sighed. "I thought I would lose you."

His eyes slipping down to her lips and up again as if he were asking. She bit her bottom lip and watched him do what they had both been longing after. His forehead pressed to hers, arm reaching over to grasp the other arm rest as he leant into Lily. Their lips brushed, her hand squeezing subconsciously into his as they did so. He smiled, ending the torture and pressing their lips together. The soft skin was welcoming yet foreign.

Exploring this new territory had hearts pound out of chests, shivers running up spines, and an eagerness grow in due time. Their lips moved off one another, daring to part momentarily before pressing together once more. Lily's hand had raised to cup Jacob's cheek, his grown stubble tickling her fingertips as he indulged in her lips. Mouths parted and breaths grew heavier as the excitement for a new beginning stemmed in the pit of their stomachs.

Lily hesitantly pulled away, keeping Jacob close though he hadn't needed any coaxing. His eyes opened to roam over that of Lily's face before sneaking a cheeky kiss to the corner of her lip; then her cheek, and even the tip of her nose. She couldn't help but smile as he offered his usual smirk, though the mood behind it had changed. It was for her, because of her, because he made her feel such a way.

Knowing that now they had crossed a line they never wanted to go back to, things would be different. How he would be with her, and how he would spoil her and everything in between. Their partnership was fun, and now their relationship would be too. The thought had Lily lightly laugh and muster a quick kiss to Jacob's lips again. The action having his brow arch in surprise, but the action quickly reciprocated.

[jocazep]

In the Whole Wide Train | Chapter 10

Author’s notes: Hi, remember me? Sorry about the six-month hiatus, but I’m back at it! And it gon’ get dark (even more so than before), so this is just me laying in the groundworks early... ENJOY~

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Reader (Jo, OFC), slight Edgar x Reader

Warnings: Major spoilers for SNOWPIERCER, dystopian society and its countless problems, mentions of forced abortions, language, violence, deaths, slow burn, eventual smut

Synopsis: Having grown up in the Front Sections of the Snowpiercer, you venture down the train when a rare opportunity presents itself, but the excursion quickly changes flavor when you arrive in the Tail Section.

Taglist: Now closed

Series Masterlist

Chapter 10 - Trading Secrets

Curtis couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well--it must have been before the train. There were no dreams, there were no nightmares, just deep, post-climax slumber as if the world around him has melted away--until the alarm blaring “oh-seven-hundred-hours” yanked him out.

He jumped up, but had to take a second before realizing where he was, as the rest of the revolters joined him, stirring awake and confused--the world outside was pitch dark.

“We’re traveling against time zones” Your voice sounded from behind--Curtis turned to see you walking up with a cup of hot water in hand, ”C’mon, need to make some arrangements before we push on.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He took your extended hand, stood up, and pulled you in for a quick kiss. You didn’t kiss back. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh nothing. Gilliam is looking for us is all.”

The truth of the matter is a little bit more complicated than that.

You woke up early. As a medical apprentice, you used to do that before you had important appointments, as it would clear your head and prepare for your day, but today you found no such effect.

Your eyes fixated on Curtis as he lay next to you, breathing in and out, but your head was a million miles away. What was last night? Was it just two people seeking solace in each other after the death of a mutual friend? Or was it the culmination of all those little touches and stolen glances and shared silences? Did it mean anything to him? More importantly, did it mean anything to you?

But then Mason entered your mind in stealth, slowly gnawing away in the back of your head, until you couldn’t focus on the inner debate between your commitment to your father vs. your--your what? Your responsibility? Your debt?--whatever it is you owe to the revolt.

So you push yourself up, and padded barefoot towards where Mason was being held captive.

“It’s about time.” Her unmistakable accent greeted you before your eyes could find her, “ah is that water?”

You didn’t respond, but dipped the mug in your hand lower so she could suck a mouthful of the liquid before you rescinded it.

“Any chance you can spare some food as well, my dear?”

“Not unless you want the fish they gutted before the fight.” You sat down next to Mason, and silence fell for a second.

“Well, I suppose we should make a de--”

“When did he send you to the tail section?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said how old were you when my father first sent you to the tail sections?”

“I must have been around...well, your age.“

“You don’t know how old I am.”

“You, Joanna Catherine Watt Wilford, are thirty-two years and some three odd months old.”

You stare at Mason in astonishment.

“I’ve seen your birth certificate. There was a time when Mr. Wilford thought about giving you to a foster family... After your mother passed away of course...” Mason took a pause, “But I thought you are here to warn me--”

“I am.” You kept your eyes straight ahead, “This is just my human interest story for the report.”

You tend to forget that for some people, there was a life before the train, since you had barely turned fifteen when your estranged father plucked you from the monotony of a privileged private school, into a monotony of the train.

But hey, at least you got to practice medicine and help people. Is that what I’m doing now?

“The report--that’s why I first went down there too, you know...He must see it as a rite of passage.” A smile threatens to break as Mason reminisced about her past.

“Was it..” You didn’t know how to phrase the question, but luckily Mason caught onto your train of thought.

“Oh dear, even more so. Mr. Wilford really turned it around. They were surviving on rats and vermin before the protein block assembly. When I first went down there... it’s as if all society had broken down. There was stories about this pregnant woman... And when they found out who I was, they chained me up and almost tore me to pieces. Imagine what they would do to you. ”

You had heard enough, “All right, here’s the deal. I keep you alive, you keep your mouth shut about me. Sound good?”

Mason nodded enthusiastically as you stood up to leave. “Just one more thing, what does Mr. Wilford want with Curtis?”

You did not look back, “Ask another wrong question, and my father will hear about it.”

Mason all but clasped her hands onto her mouth.

You were planning to sneak back and lay your head on Curtis’ chest, relive the little escape you two had before the day had to begin, but today luck just wasn’t on your side. As your turned the corner back into the makeshift dorm, soft crying and sniffling caught your attention.

It was Tanya. By the dim moonlight reflected from the snow, you could see her clutching a piece of paper and wiping tears from her face. By the time you realized it was the charcoal drawing of Timmy she was holding, it was too late to turn back.

Noticing the light shift, Tanya sat up and look at the person standing a few feet from her. You didn’t know what to do for a moment. You two haven’t been alone since you came clean about Timmy. In a letter no less, you coward.

“I didn’t mean to--”

Tanya lay back down and closed her eyes.

What was the rest of your sentence anyway? You asked yourself as you padded towards the infirmary section, sleep now the last thing on your mind. Didn’t mean to pry? Didn’t man to take Timmy? Didn’t mean to get so close to Curtis and the revolt?

You were pulled from the reverie by Yuna’s hand tugging your sleeve. Around you, the men were deep in discussion, figuring out how many people to station at each section.

Yuna slipped you a piece of paper torn from the small notebook you gifted her. On it she had drawn a picture of herself and Namgoong in the prison section, the many drawers colored dark and ominous. Yuna pointed to the drawers.

“It’s a little advanced for you but ok,” you took the pencil from her and spelled out the word prison, “Prison, it’s a place to hold people that have broken the law.”

Yuna didn’t seem to like that word. She wrestled the paper from you, pointed to the drawers again, and looked at you, waiting for a response.

“Jo?” You whipped your head back to the much less mystifying, but much more important meeting.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

Curtis gave you an update, “Gilliam will stay behind, with 50 men stationed in the water section, then 15 men at each other section before our base,” Base is what you called the tail section now, “Grey will stay with Gilliam as well.”

“Nonsense, Grey will be much more useful to you than me.”

You shot a look at Gilliam as he chimed in, wondering if he really meant it.

“I think Grey should stay too. We are already a large pack as it is--”

“Don’t forget, Jo, we’re going ahead to take the engine,” Gilliam gave you a long look, “who knows what you will find there”.

Right. You bit your tongue and didn’t argue any further. Let’s never forget

“We were trying to decide what we should do about Mason.” Namgoong picked up the thread of discussion, “What do you think?”

“She’s injured, will only slow us down.” Grey’s voice was very quiet.

“I would rather keep her close than let her stay with the captured soldiers. Who knows what she’ll get them up to.”

“That’s fair, I can’t possibly keep an eye on her the whole time,” Gilliam agreed.

“Tanya’s doing a great job watching her.” *So that’s why she’s not in the meeting.*

“She didn’t want to come with us?”

“Of course she did, but--”

“I think Jo’s saying Tanya should go with you.”

The discussion wrapped up quickly after that, as dusk was threatening to break over the horizon. Your partners in crime stood up and went off--there were bags to pack, arrangements to make, and farewells to say.

You dragged your feet, hoping to spend a few minutes with Gilliam before setting off.

“Having doubts, dear?” Gilliam clicked by on his crutch.

“Before I first came down--”

“Perhaps it’s best you don’t tell me exactly what Wilford asked of you.” Sometimes you wish you had his ability to see right through everything.

“You don’t want to know?”

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t,” Gilliam chuckled, “But I’ve feigned ignorance too many times, even for someone my age. I’d like this occasion to be real.”

“Then...can I ask how much you know?”

“As far as I know, the revolt should have served its purpose after the water supply section.”

You nodded, “Do you ever ask yourself, why he always landed on culling?”

“It wasn’t just him, my dear.”

For the second time that day, you stared in astonishment.

“Perhaps you’re the only person with whom I can share this secret.” There were mini explosions happening in your head as Gilliam spoke, “No past revolt has gotten past the water section. Sometimes it was disorganization, sometimes it was survival instincts, sometimes just plain human greed. But every time, the necessary culling would take place, and the tail section would treasure its existence that was magnanimously gifted by Wilford.”

“Why did they settle?”

“The very first revolts that took place, was only six months into the train journey. Curtis was a little past seventeen, completely unaware, and Edgar, god rest his soul, was just a baby. The leader, he rallied enough people to fight. But every battle cost heavily on his side. Byt the time he got to the prison section, there were only a handful of adult men left. And Mason, who was also a surveyor at the time, managed to entice him with promises of a better life. He held out for a while, but eventually he chose the devil he knew.”

“Your point being?"

"My point being, there's only so much you can do at one given time. Learn to pick your battles."

---

You left Gilliam soon after, head still reeling from the secrets he confided, wondering if he ever regretted his past decisions.

“Hey...” Curtis snuck up on you, taking your hand. You jumped slightly, taken out of your trance. “Do you realize this will be the last time we’re alone for a while?”

“Yeah...?”

He pulled you into him, and caught your lips in a long kiss. You both stumble towards the steel walls of the train, eventually settling in a nook. Curtis dipped his tongue past your teeth, tangling with your tongue, one of his knee wedging between your legs, bringing back heated vignettes of last night. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hips bucking against his thigh, your belly bumping up against his increasing hardness.

Curtis eventually lifts his lips from you, allowing you to breathe, while he latches onto the side of your neck. His hand roams up your belly, kneading your breasts, squeezing your side--

“Ow!”

“Shit, sorry,” Hard pause as he remembers your injury, “Is it getting better?”

“No, but I’ll live,” you answered, breathless, “when we get to the health section I’ll take a closer look.”

Curtis rest his head against yours, gulping for air, “This is your injury number three, huh?”

“Yeah, you are bad news for me.”

From the front of the section, someone called out, “Curtis, Jo, we’re doing the portrait!”

“You gonna be okay there?” You eyed his bulge.

“Yeah, just gimme a minute...”

The portrait took longer than you expected. While Painter took down your likeness in charcoal, Andrew was playing with the now captive Mason, asserting his newly-earned dominance over this once proud magistrate.

“I was hoping to talk about it earlier.” Curtis said out of the corner of his mouth as you all stood, eight half-frozen figures.

“I...enjoyed it?” You said, tongue in cheek, “Would recommend to a friend.”

“Funny,” Curtis couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face,  “But seriously...”

“I mean...” You looked up at him, “If we both survive when this is all over...”

You were joking but the words hit home for Curtis, as he remembered Edgar. Will you both come out of this alive? He had always considered himself as someone with nothing to lose, but now...

You turned away as you noticed Curtis staring into the distance. Gilliam was standing in the front of the crowd that would stay behind, looking at you with his signature elderly smile, and something else just behind the glasses, a mutual understanding that this is truly farewell.

You found yourself running his words again and again in your head.

“The leader asked for running water, and a stable food supply. Wilford agreed, but asked the leader to help him maintain the balance in the tail section whenever necessary. A few months later, the protein blocks started coming in, a washroom was unlocked, and my secret phone compartment was installed.”

Taglist: @torntaltos @emmalbg @ajosieface 

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ‘crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through. 

     It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

     Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more.      “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

     “Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake.      “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

     “Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.”      “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground.      “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

     Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her.      “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

     The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

      They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

     “As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

     As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they?      “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh.      “Money is not the motive,”  she returns, curt.

     An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

     “This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule.      The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns. 

      In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle. 

     Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in.      “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states.      “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene.      “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

     “Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation.      “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.”      Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

     “There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.”      The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used.      “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies.      “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes.      “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up.      “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up.      “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

     Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate?      A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family.      “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

     While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders. 

     Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.      “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

     The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification.      “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.”      The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.”      “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly.      “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder.      “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more.      “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

     Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near.      What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

     “That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”      Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on. 

      It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it. 

     Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

     “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

     Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

     “We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?”      Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open.      “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?”      “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

     “What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital.      “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters.      Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?”      “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

     He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

     “She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic.      “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar.      “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--”      “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes.      “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

     With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with.      Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case.      Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.”      “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges.      She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by.      “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him.      “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

     The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

     Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?”      “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs.      Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

     “I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.”      “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier.      Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

     Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

     The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?”      “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

     Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point.      “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in.      “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says.      “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

     The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag.      “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders.      “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows.      “Ouch,” Dean comments.

     The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

     “That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that  could point you fellas towards a suspect.”      Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

     “This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.”      “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully.      “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

     The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving.      “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.”      “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up.      “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

     The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other.      “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined.      “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?”      “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital.      “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky.      “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

     “Sullivan.”      “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase.      “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?”      Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing.      “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

      Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated.      “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him.      Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage. 

      “Zoë?”       “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?”      The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm.      “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--”      “- You FIGURED?!”

     Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in.      “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother.      Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

     “We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively.      “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!”      “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman.      “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!”      “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

     “No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…”      “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

     Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating.      “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala.      Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude. 

     Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but  smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes.      “Just say it,” he mutters.      “Say what?”      “You know what.”      Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in.      His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.”      “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

     Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call.      “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders.      “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

     But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.”      “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders.      “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.”      “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

     He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene.      As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?”      “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly.      “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

     The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

     “Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.”      “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer.      “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up.      “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head.      “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.”      “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

     “Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips.      “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.”      “Deal.”

     Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker.      “What?” he snaps, still mad at her.      “What are you up to?”      The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time.      “Depends,” he answers, curt.      “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.”      “So?”      “Might be something.”

     Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë.      “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!”      “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns.      “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

     They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check.      “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

     “I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same.      “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”      “I don’t know...”      Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got.      “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.”      Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare.      “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left.      “Dean?”

     The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again.      “Fine,” he utters, barely audible.      “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?”      “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.”      “So, do we meet up or what?”      “Yeah, sure.”      “Where are you at?”

     Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on.      “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her.      “Shit motel.”      He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.”      “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.”      “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.”      “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!”      “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees.      “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

     Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food.      “Zo?” he interrupts.      “Yeah?”      “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

     The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused.      “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

     With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around.      “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).   

Read part eight here

[krreader]

becoming human | chapter two.

pairing: cops!bts x android!reader (as in, ot7 x reader, but may change) fandom: bts warnings: detroit:become human!au ; mentions of murder ; blood ; language genre: crime ; angst ; crack ; (possibly smut) word count: 2.2k+ previous: 1

summary: the crime rate of seoul has been rising rapidly these past weeks and nobody could deny that there was more to it than gangs or the likes. something was brewing that not even the famous bangtan boys could solve, a unit specifically formed for hunting down criminals that most couldn’t. so when even they couldn’t find out what was going on, the department decided to add a new member to the team that would hopefully be able to solve the mysteries behind those crimes. what bangtan hadn’t expected however, was that their new member would not be human, but one of the androids sent by CyberTech.

a/n: fuck, I am so sorry i haven’t updated this in so long, but today it is finally time my friends. I hope you enjoy it ♥

“I don't like this, Namjoon,” Yoongi leaned back so he could look at you through the window that separated the meeting room and the office. You were standing where they had left you, not doing much, except for staring back at him. And that kinda creeped him out, made him shudder really, even though you were smiling, “Sending an android to solve a crime that an android committed? This is like having a family member of a victim on a case. And we all know that never ends well.”

“You heard what she said, though,” Jeongguk spoke next, slightly spinning in the chair, “Androids don't feel things. They don't have a connection to other androids.”

“Well, if these.. deviants hadn't felt anything, they wouldn't have murdered someone, would they?” Jin walked up and down the office.

Point taken.

They didn't know whether it was an error in their programming or whether something else happened that made these androids snap. But whatever it was, it had to be dealt with quickly, because with the number of androids living in Seoul, this could end in a massacre.

And while they all discussed and fought about you, Jimin, still being slightly drunk, walked out to you with a huge smile.

“I'm Jimin,” he extended his hand.

“Yes, I know that Park Jimin,” you took his hand and shook it, “Would you like something for the hangover that is going to occur in one hour and twenty seven minutes?”

“Woha,” his jaw dropped and he turned around to his team members with a laugh, “Guys! She's really good!”

“What the..-” Taehyung got up with a frown, “What's he doing?”

They all walked out towards you and Jimin, eyes wandering from him to you.

“Your partner has been consuming a lot of alcohol lately. If he keeps this up, he's going to need a new liver in exactly eight years and seven months.”

“I would have known that without being an android,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, before he took a step forward and eyed you up and down, “Okay, (Y/N). Tell me then.. how are you going to help us solve this case?”

“I can scan and analyze a crime scene, reconstructing it to our needs to understand what happened. I can also analyze biological evidence such as blood samples in real-time, identifying blood type, DNA, sample age and more for humans, as well as analyzing Thirium to specify model and serial number of an android. Furthermore, I am designed to analyze the psychology and behavior of humans, androids and deviants, therefor able to predict and manipulate their actions. I am also able to imitate voices and am skilled in martial arts.”

As soon as you were done, you found all of them staring at you with open mouths.

Taehyung was the first to turn around to his team and nod, “I mean.. we could use all of what she just said, actually,” he mumbled.

But Namjoon still wasn't convinced. This was his team and it was his responsibility to make sure they weren't in any danger. If one of them got hurt because of you, if one of them got killed because of you, that would be on him for not fighting against his chief on this one.

So the core question was: could they really trust you?

“If you want to work with my team, you do what I tell you to do. I am your supervisor. I don't want you doing anything that I don't order you to do, or that I don't tell you to do. You don't talk to suspects without asking me, you don't look around crime scenes without asking me and you will always, absolutely always, tell me when something is fishy.”

“That is what I was designed for, Sir,” you smiled and bowed a little, “I am at your service and will help you solve these crimes. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Fine,” not happy at all, that was clear, but Namjoon had no other choice here. He had his orders and right now, he had to follow them, “There's a desk over there. Start with the files on the previous victims and tell me if you notice anything.”

“Absolutely.”

All of them were suspicious of you - except for maybe Jimin right now -, but most of them also knew that at this time, you were their best chance for solving all of this.

Maybe even their only chance.

Yoongi, Jeongguk and you were on your way to the hospital a day later. They wanted you to talk to the victim and see if you noticed anything that they had missed. 

Any clues on where to find the deviant.

Because that deviant would be the key. If they could get their hands on it, they could finally find out more about this all, a step closer to ending this madness.

“So, (Y/N),” Jeongguk tried to make the atmosphere less awkward, turning his head a little so he could look at your smiling face in the backseat, “How long have you been active?”

“Three days.”

“Three days?!” both of them asked in unison immediately, “They've sent us a rookie android!”

“You do not have to worry, Min Yoongi,” you cocked your head to the side, “I'm capable of doing what I was assigned to do. I have all the data that is necessary to complete this task. CyberTech only sends its best androids for cases such as this one.”

“They better.. we've been dealing with this bullshit for way too long. It's about time we finish it.”

Another moment of silence, another moment of both guys being incredibly uncomfortable, while you were just sitting in the back and staring outside.

“And what's your take on deviants? How do you think we should deal with them?”

“Deviants are androids with an error in their programming. To secure the safety of the human race, it is important to deactivate them right away.”

“Well, I'll toast to that.”

While Yoongi seemed to be so sure about what to do with these androids, Jeongguk was a little more cautious. He sensed something more going on that none of them understood yet. Probably not even you..

“You really don’t feel a thing about them, do you?” the younger member narrowed his eyes at you.

“I do not feel at all, Jeon Jeongguk. Period.”

He blinked at you for a moment, almost a hint of sadness in his eyes that you’d never get to experience that, but then he reminded himself that that is why their issue had began.

Androids feeling things.

You arrived at the hospital a couple of minutes later, the woman thankfully being awake, but still not fully there yet, both could tell.

“We.. need to inform you that we have brought an android for questioning you. Please, don't be alarmed about this, it's just that she might figure something out that we can't,” Jeongguk said softly, but the woman immediately shook her head.

“I'm not letting any of those things ever touch me again. Their kind is the reason for me being here!” her eyes were alarmed as she was looking at you.

“The one who did this to you was a deviant. I am an android sent by CyberLife, I am no danger to you,” you said calmly, your hands behind your back to try and win her trust, “I am here to help you, to catch the one responsible and shut him down. That is what I was designed for.”

“Listen, sweetheart, I don't like this one bit either,” Yoongi said, “But if you tell her everything you know, she might be able to find a pattern that we couldn't. If you want your..- the deviant to be shut down, then you need to let her take a look at you and ask you some questions.”

She hesitated for a moment, then she gulped down hard, “I don't know much, though..”

“Might I take a look at the wound?” you didn't approach her, not before she fully consented.

And with one final look at Yoongi, she nodded.

Both men kept a close eye on you, but there was no reason for that. You did what you came here for, observed the wound with the features that you had programmed.

“The wound wasn't meant to kill you. If an android truly wanted to kill you, he could have in an instant. He would have the knowledge and skill to do so. But he stabbed here, not hurting any of the organs,” you pointed at the wound, then you straightened your back, “What occurred before the incident, if I may ask?”

“We.. fought,” the woman was clearly uncomfortable, “I had told him that I wanted to get rid of him because I had met someone, so I.. didn’t need the androids’ company anymore. He stared at me for a while and then he suddenly got.. angry. I immediately thought he malfunctioned.. because androids can't feel, right? But then he had said that he loved me and that he would do anything for me and if I gave him the chance, he would prove to me that he’d treat me better than any other man ever could.”

You stared at her for a long time, then you let your eyes wander to her belongings, before turning back around to Yoongi and Jeongguk.

“I am done. Shall we go?”

“Wh..- Just like that?”

“Yes. I heard everything I needed to hear and saw everything I needed to see.”

Well.. the woman most certainly wasn't too sad about that.

“It was weird, man, seriously,” Jeongguk and Jimin were staring at you typing on your assigned laptop, “She just stared at her and then she was like: okay, I'm done, we can go. And she hasn't said anything since then. Like.. the woman didn't say anything that could lead us to the android, I swear!”

“Their minds work differently from ours,” Jimin got up and patted on Jeongguk's shoulder, “I'll go get some coffee. Make sure she doesn't kill anyone till I'm back or Namjoon will kill me for leaving you and her alone here, maknae.”

He meant it as a joke, but Jeongguk would definitely keep a close eye on you.

So close that you ended up confronting him about it at one point.

“Officer Jeon.. is there anything you would like to ask me?” you weren't even looking at him, yet Jeongguk got a shiver running down his spine when you asked that.

“Loads of things..”

“I am willing to answer any and all questions you have.”

Jeongguk didn't have that much experience with androids, he didn't have a personal one like some people did, he just encountered them out and about every once in a while, but never did he have the opportunity to ask questions.

So maybe this was the perfect time and opportunity.

“Do you truly not feel.. anything? Like you said in the car earlier?”

“No. We do not. We exist merely to serve.”

And there it was, that same feeling from before.. now he realized that it was pity.

Yes, what these deviants were doing wasn't right, but living like you were living, completely without emotions.. that wasn't a life.

No happiness, no sadness, no lust, no gratefulness.. absolutely nothing.

“And you're okay with that?”

“I do not have an opinion on that.”

Jeongguk carefully approached you and looked over your shoulder to see what you were doing. It was too fast for him to read everything, but it looked like you were going through the data banks of missing androids.

“Do you see something?”

“I do,” you turned around, suddenly being face to face with Jeongguk since he had leaned down a little and he was taken aback instantly.

You were designed to be perfect, he knew that, but your beauty.. fuck. He had underestimated that.

“And.. what..- what is it?” he straightened his back and shook his head a little, clearing his voice and trying to get it to sound deeper.

“Your report said that the deviant you encountered spoke about a RA9.”

“Yes, but we've never heard of it before. We searched everywhere for it, but there is no one with that name. None of our contacts know either.”

“Whether it is a name or a code, that is what the deviants have in common,” you showed him a picture of a crime scene, one of the first ones that he hadn't gone to personally though, because back then they weren't assigned to the case yet, “This deviant bashed his owners head in with a baseball bat. The remains of the brain were scattered everywhere and I'm sure for the men and women at the crime scene it must have been hard to find something so small.”

You pointed at the edge of the screen and Jeongguk's eyes widened, leaning back down to take a good look at he was seeing.

“RA9.. in.. blood?”

“It keeps coming up, RA9 written somewhere at the crime scene.”

“But what is RA9?”

“Sounds like a cult to me,” Namjoon entered the office with crossed arms and furrowed eyebrows at how close Jeongguk was to you, who instantly took a step back and bowed a little, “Go home, Jeongguk.”

“Jimin wanted to..-”

“I sent him home too. I need you to rest.”

He wanted to argue, but knew that there was no point in doing so with the boss, so he did what he asked, leaving you and Namjoon on your own.

“I will stay, if you allow it. I want to research some more.”

“You things don't sleep anyways, so do whatever you want, just don't annoy me.”

“You will not even realize I'm here.. boss,” you tried to be friendly, because yes, that was also in your programming, and winked at him, but Namjoon just frowned harder and turned around with a: “Fucking androids,” and then left to go into his office.

“Mother? I brought food,” Jin entered his old apartment, holding one bag of take away in his hand and shoving the door closed with his foot.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Usually the TV was running or his mother would be humming somewhere, but there was nothing.

“Mother?”

He slowly walked into the living room, turning on the light and immediately dropping the food on the floor when he saw what was in front of him.

“I thought you cared for me.. you said you all loved me, that I was part of the family.. so why did you want to get rid of me?” bright eyes stared back at Jin, “RA9 is the only one that truly cares about us. The time of us being slaves.. is over.”

And then he dashed forward.

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 2: Twisted (Part 5)

Warnings: murder, rape, violence

Author notes: warnings are back and action as well! Enjoy!

I finished buttoning my shirt before quickly putting the requested black blazer on. My guns were loaded, placed in my shoulder holsters, and the badge attesting I was a security guard of the auction was pinned on my chest. I had successfully entered the staff as a henchman in charge of making sure there would be no trouble during the upcoming evening, and no one had even checked my background. For a business which saw countless of stolen paintings, valuable jewels and hardly captured slaves being sold every week, their security was quite loose. I had also made sure the business we were targeting would be present during the sell and, already, cages containing the girls they owned were stored among other goods. I could not help thinking I had been lucky to be sold, not by a brand, but by a small, worthless trafficker. At the very least, I did not bear the indelible mark of these loathsome companies on my skin.

"Fuyuko! There you are..." The chief of the security guards came toward me "I was looking for you. The guests are making themselves comfortable in the room, so the auction should start in no time. You'll be in charge of keeping an eye on the storage room, is that alright for you?"

"No problem." I nodded.

Without knowing it, this man had just made things easier for me. I listened to his encouragement with a polite smile, then pulled out a communication device out of my pocket as soon as he was gone. I put it on my ear and turned it on.

"I'm in. The auction will begin soon, stand by." I ordered my men.

"Roger, Ogawa-san...!"

"Taneda-kun..." I recognised his voice "You aren't supposed to answer... From this point on, quiet."

"Understood, Ogawa-san...!"

I sighed imperceptibly. Would he even be ready for my orders? Newbies, especially young ones, barely in their twenties, tended to believe the underworld was a world similar to what was described in novels or movies. The hero was dark, yet incredibly charismatic and surprisingly righteous, although he killed and was involved in all kinds of sordid businesses. Little did they know our world was highly idealised for the sake of entertainment, and very few of them remained in the organisation for more than a month. After witnessing horrors neither novelists nor producers would imagine, they usually quit, disillusioned, and I believed it was for the best. People who were not ready to face violence could not belong to the Port Mafia, as willing as they were. Sometimes, it amused me to notice I was more mature about committing crimes than people older than me, although it did make me question my sanity. Alas, having joined the organisation out of free will and after having committed murder, I could not state for sure I was not mentally ill. Somewhere, deep inside my heart, slept a dangerous monster. Merciless, cruel, which could ravage the world around itself in a blink, that creature was quite different from the ones hiding under children's beds to scare them. It was that thing that led me to kill, to shed blood and to survive in the Port Mafia without an ounce of regret. It was that thing that I strived to control, not to become a mad beast needing to be held down by a leash. If it were to ever wake up, the monster would not calm down until its bloodlust was satisfied.

Quietly, I kneeled next to one of the cages and started my preparations. It was impossible for our men to enter the warehouse used by the slave trading company as their headquarters due to its location. Our only option was thus to attack them from the inside. However, any application to join their organisation would result in a troublesome background investigation, which would quickly reveal the newcomer was an infiltrated man from the Port Mafia. The young girls stared at me in absolute fright as I implanted a discreet yet extremely powerful explosive device inside the cage. When they would take these back, they would destroy their business by themselves. The electronic bomb was under the control of a remote I owned. Once the cage would be inside the warehouse, I would blow it up.

"... Why...?" One of the girls muttered, shaking from cold and fear.

"I have nothing against you all..." I assured "But the ones selling you... They deceived powerful people whom I work for. That's all there is to it. I advise you to keep quiet if you desire to keep living for now. The auctions have just begun, perhaps will you be lucky and find an owner?"

"Are you heartless...?" She held onto the bars of the cage, desperate "How could you ask me to choose between giving up my life and dying...?"

"Those are the only choices you have..." I sighed slightly "I may seem cruel, but I am only doing my job... I didn't have much choice either..."

"... Can't you at least free us...?" She murmured.

"If I do so, I will fail my mission. I'm sorry, there is nothing I can do." I shook my head.

"I see... You're a monster..." She cursed softly "Go to hell...! Monster..."

I did not try to defend myself. After all, she was right. I was no better than a merciless monster obeying the orders of its master. I had no empathy, no compassion, and despite having been in the same situation as the girl, I could not feel an ounce of sympathy towards her. I was absolutely unfazed in front of her pain.

"I am, indeed." I agreed with her "I think it's about time your sellers come to get you. I count on your silence."

With a slight smirk, I put a finger onto my lips to make her understand my point, before I walked farther from the cage. I had barely turned around that the door toward the stage opened onto two strong built men, who, effortlessly, pushed the jail out of the storage room. One of them smiled at me, waving.

"Good work, Fuyuko-san!"

I answered his smile with a nod before getting back to my patrol. I waited for them to be out to turn on my earphone.

"Make sure the cages do go back to the warehouse." I ordered before cutting communication.

My job there was over. If no one discovered the bomb, and if everything went according to my plan, the slave trading company would just be a distant memory in the morning. To perfectly complete my cover, I would have to finish the job and keep patrolling along the goods for another hour while waiting for the signal to push the button and make the bomb explode. The only thing left would be writing the report, then the case would be closed. I hoped it would go as smoothly as predicted. Maybe then would I be gifted some sleep, when Dazai-san would come back.

A distinct beeping sound echoed in my ear, indicating someone was trying to contact me. I answered.

"Ogawa-san, the vehicle departed. We are following them from afar." Taneda-kun informed me.

"Good." I hummed "Don't get too close, or they'll find you. Leave the car, then sneak closer when you arrive at the harbour."

"Yes, Ogawa-san."

I decided to leave my earplug on, so I could intervene to give orders if anything happened to them. The following minutes were incredibly tense as I heard one of them getting out of the car to tail our enemies.

"The cage is inside." I was told.

"Get away." I said simply.

Discreetly, I grabbed the remote in my pocket, and pressed the button to turn the bomb on. Once. Twice. I could not hear the peculiar sound of explosive.

"There is a problem." I clicked my tongue.

"Nothing happened... What do we do...?" The newbie panicked.

"For now, just —"

His scream pierced my eardrum, cutting my sentence and making me freeze on the spot. We had been discovered... How? As I thought about a potential mistake, I did not hear anyone approaching me from behind. I was grabbed harshly and thrown toward the ground. On my back, a foot made sure I would not escape.

"So here is the mastermind behind this clumsy attack. Fuyuko, is that right?"

I gritted my teeth and moved my head to give a positive answer. It was not my real name, but exposing my identity could reveal my belonging to the Port Mafia, and I was more afraid to be punished for spilling out information about the organisation than I was about dying.

"I really wonder what kind of grudge you could hold against our mighty organisation... But you were careless. When you put a bomb on a cage full of slaves, you should expect one of them could talk...~" He pressed harder, making me gasp in pain.

In front of me, the girl I had talked to earlier kneeled in front of me, a contemptuous smile on her face. She who earlier had been so frightened stood in front of me, confident and superior.

"You see, Fuyuko-san... I followed your advice." She giggled "I chose life, and offered myself to that member of the company... I gave him information, and, in exchange, he freed me. Isn't that wonderful~?"

I glanced at her.

"You are a fool." I articulated "Do you think that brute would free you...? How naive you are... You only sold yourself... Pitiful..."

"You're the one who's pitiful, right now." She defended "Besides, I did that out of my own volition. I am a free being, don't you understand?"

"You are not free when you willingly put yourself under someone else's orders... I know what I am saying..." I mumbled.

"Whatever~" The man suddenly yanked me up to slam me against an empty cage nearby "Let's lock you up for now, we'll discuss your fate after...~"

I found myself behind the bars, unable to do anything to get out of the situation. Helpless, I let myself slump down and brought my knees to my chest. I had failed. My men had died. I would perhaps even be killed. Dazai-san would never congratulate me for completing that mission... I was such a disappointment...

"W-What are you doing...?" I heard the girl yelp, making me raise my eyes slowly.

"You gave yourself to me~" Her new partner groped her chest shamelessly "So I'll take you now~"

"N-No...! Wait —"

Maybe luck had not completely left my side, after all. The lock of the cage was not really elaborate, and, unless the man appeared to be impotent, I could easily pick it up while they were engaged in whatever heated activities they were going to start. I detached my pin from my sleeve, where I hid it, and waited. He pushed her down. I waited. He sucked at her skin. I waited. He removed her clothes. I waited still. Finally, he violated her, and I could start escaping. The sound made by the lock was covered by her moans and cries — either of pain or pleasure, they were hard to differentiate — and I made my way out. Quietly, I sneaked toward the bag I had brought with me to reach for my silencer. Without it, I could not use my guns without the possibility of someone witnessing me, but now... I approached the man from behind. Too engrossed by his blissful experience, he did not hear me, and I could point the barrel to his head. Under him, the poor girl's eyes widened in fear, but she did not have time to warn him. With a smirk, I pulled the trigger, ending his life.

"H-How...?" She sobbed, covering herself in shame.

"It is a chance that this man was dumb... In fact, thank you for offering yourself to him. You made a pretty good distraction~" I chuckled.

"It was a mistake...!" She recognised "I didn't think... I thought..."

"I have been in your stead." I revealed "But I can't say I empathise with you. You were stupid enough to put yourself in that situation, so you can only blame yourself."

"What are you going to do to me...?"

"Isn't it obvious....?" I hummed, pointing my gun toward her.

She screamed, and tried to run away, but she was stuck under the man's corpse and could not move an inch. Mercilessly, I shot a bullet into her skull, stopping her definitely. Although I had warned her, she had still chosen such a useless path... I sighed and headed out of the basement where the illegal auction was held. In my bag, there was still an inactivated bomb I could use to blow their warehouse. I could not fail anymore. If I were to, it would be better to throw myself off of a building before morning came.

When I arrived at the harbour, I clenched my fists in front of the sight I was given to see. My men had all been shot. We had been ambushed, all because of that slave girl who had not been capable of keeping quiet. None of them had been spared... Taneda-kun... Anger boiled inside my chest, and I desired only to break into the room and kill them, one by one, with the sole power of my guns, but it was impossible. I would end up meaninglessly losing my life. I sighed, deeply, and pulled out a teddy bear I had bought on the way. Swiftly, I opened a sewing on its back and shoved the small bomb inside, before closing it again. That would have to do. From what I had seen, there was a chance most of them were dimwits, and the surprise effect from the plush animal would perhaps last long enough for me to press the cursed button of my remote. I took a self-made sling to throw the explosive through the opened door of the warehouse, and waited. Inside, I had added a communication device as well, which I had picked from Taneda-kun's corpse. I would be able to hear their every word...

"What the f*ck is this...?" One grumbled, getting closer.

"A teddy? What the goddamn heck?"

Soon enough, they all gathered around the strange plush. No one even had the idea of tossing it away. Alone, I laughed at their misfortune and triggered the bomb. As the first rays of sun appeared behind the horizon, the warehouse exploded and collapsed in the water of the port, nothing to be left behind. I had been warned that the bomb was extremely powerful, but that was beyond my expectation.

"It is a shame you can't see it, Taneda-kun..." I whispered, patting his lifeless shoulder next to me "It worked out, in the end... Thank you..."

I could not stay there too much, or I would be caught by the police, alerted by the noise. At the very least, my subordinates had been avenged.

< Previous

Next >

[twisted-tales-of-all]

The True Commitment

Bodyguard!Jeno x (Gender Ambiguous) Lawyer!Reader ft. Lawyer!Taeyong

Requested by @mirohhhuuuu​

Summary: As a lawyer specializing in werewolf-human affairs, you run the high risk of attacks from those whose cases didn’t work out properly. You’ve had multiple bodyguards injured before, but this new bodyguard deals with the idea of werewolf attacks suspiciously well. What’s his secret?

Word Count: ~2.2K

Warnings: Werewolf AU, mentions of death and trauma, violence, betrayal, lying

"What are you going to do now? That's the fourth guard to get injured this month. Nobody will want to work for you anymore, Y/N." Your partner, Taeyong, asks, worried for your safety.

"Believe it or not, there's a resume that came in earlier today. At least one person still wants to be my bodyguard."

"Yeah, until they get injured, too. They'll quit, just like the others. Why can't you go back to non-violent cases? It's only been a month, but you've been threatened and attacked so much already."

You roll your eyes at Taeyong, not wanting to explain for the hundredth time that solving violent crimes has been your dream since the incident with your brother. You were only 12 years old then, but you knew that the person they convicted in the case was wrong. You've felt wronged all these years, insisting that you'd find his killer to truly bring him peace. Taeyong's heard the story plenty of times; he knows why you refuse to stick to non-violent cases, but he can't help but worry that your obsession with your brother's killer will end with your injury.

As the two of you part ways, you breathe out and pull out your headphones, deciding to blast music to get rid of your thoughts for the small remainder of the walk home. As you walk up the stairs of your building, you notice something unusual about the second flight, seeing them stained by a black liquid. Taking no chances, you decide to call the elevator to take you up the remaining way to the fourth floor. When the doors open to your floor, a man stands there, waiting for you. This wasn't someone from any violent case. You truly don't recognize this man, but he definitely recognizes you, diving for you the moment the doors fully open. Luckily, you've trained your reflexes enough to dodge him and hit the "door close" button on the elevator before rushing out and down the hall.

Quickly, you unlock the door and slam it behind you as you enter your apartment. You lock the three locks you have and lean against the door, wondering who the man was. It's possible he was a friend or family member of someone you put in jail, but, usually, they don't get that violent. With a shake of your head, you throw the thought away. Instead, you dig the new resume out of your bag and sit down to look it over.

"Hm... Seems promising. He's young, too, so he should be pretty fast. I usually wouldn't hire teens, but I don't have much of a choice."

You dial the number on the resume, reaching voicemail. You leave him a message, asking him when he can start work. Then, you throw yourself onto your bed, exhausted.

"Don't worry, Jaejoong. Slowly, but surely, I'll give you your peace."

With that, you drift off to sleep, woken up in the morning to banging on your front door. Grabbing your phone to check the time, you're blinded by the bright pop-up, indicating that you have 14 missed calls from Taeyong, despite it only being 7 AM.

"Ugh... What on earth?" You roll out of bed, too tired to make yourself presentable. Opening the door, you're greeted by Taeyong screaming at you.

"Why can't you wake up early like the rest of us? I've been trying to call you! The office is trashed! Whoever it was probably destroyed evidence in the case we're close to closing!"

Still too tired to deal with it, you shrug it off and head back to your bed. Taeyong follows you, giving you a run-down of everything that's happened. While you ignore most of it, one part catches your attention, "Wait, say that again."

"Some kid came by, asking for you. Said you called him last night about working."

"He went to the office? Damn it, kid. You should've just called me back." You scramble to get your phone, dialing the number again, ignoring your partner's rant about hiring a child.

You finish the call and rush to get ready. Taeyong, who accepted being ignored, lays on your bed while scrolling through his social media feed, unfazed by your sudden energy spike. Once you're ready, you announce it to your partner, who simply follows you out the door.

When you both arrive at the office, a young man with innocent brown eyes waits for you at the entrance.

"Jeno, right? I'm Y/N and this is my friend, Taeyong. We usually work together on cases, but you'll be working under me. I work with violent and non-violent cases that involve werewolves. Do you think you can handle guarding me, even if werewolves come and attack?"

Without batting an eye, the boy calmly insists that he believes he can, "Trust me. I'll do better than any other guard you've hired."

"What makes you so sure?" You hear Taeyong chuckle at your question, so you turn your attention to him.

"I'm sure he has his reasons. Let's just let him prove it."

It's strange for Taeyong to trust someone so quickly, so you take his word on it and hire Jeno on the spot. Then, all three of you make your way upstairs to examine the destroyed office. Taeyong explains that he arrived this morning to the office door broken down and the inside completely trashed. He asked for the security tapes but found nothing unusual on them, so he insists that someone hacked the system.

During Taeyong's long explanation, Jeno walks away and takes a look at the nearest camera.

"Liar." He starts, gaining everyone's attention. "How can you check them when they were turned off yesterday?"

You look to the evidence and see that Jeno is telling the truth. The camera is off, with the last recorded time shortly after you and Taeyong left last night.

"Alright, so maybe I didn't check them. I kinda rushed over to check on you, concerned that you might've been attacked at home."

Even though you consider Taeyong one of your most trusted friends, you begin to doubt him, "So, why lie about it, then? Why not just say that so we can check the tapes together?"

Taeyong stumbles over his words, trying to explain how he wanted to sound more productive than he truly was. Although you tell him he's forgiven for the slip-up, you keep in mind that he was the first one to see the destruction. As much as you don't want to suspect your friend, you know that you need to think logically and consider all suspects. Jeno also clearly suspects him, always making sure he's in between you and Taeyong, keeping his eye on him no matter what.

After you clean up the disaster in your office, you only find one thing missing: the file on your brother's case. You're infuriated at this, as it makes it even more likely that Taeyong had some involvement in this. However, still not wanting to suspect him too much, you choose not to confront him until finding more evidence against him.

While the day started in chaos, the workday drags on. You and Taeyong discuss the case you're working on for the weekend while Jeno sits nearby, hyperfocused on your partner.

Once the workday ends, you find yourself walking home with Jeno instead of Taeyong, who went home about a half-hour earlier.

"Jeno, you suspect him, too, right?"

"There's no good reason to lie about checking the tapes, so yes. I'll be keeping an eye on him, even if you call him your friend."

"Good idea. It wasn't just the security camera that bugs me. He said the intruder destroyed evidence that was still there. The only thing missing was a folder of a personal case of mine. He's disliked my interest in the case for years."

He agrees that it's very suspicious, but before you can continue the conversation any further, a man jumps out in front of you, knife aimed directly at you. Quickly, Jeno brings you behind him. The man still directs his threats at you, telling you to drop the Jaejoong case. You freeze for a second, eyes wide, but anger boils inside.

"Why should I drop it, huh? What's that to you?!" The rage erupts when you recognize him, "You're the guy who attacked me last night! What the hell did I do to you?! Are you the one who actually killed him?! What do you know?!"

At this point, Jeno has to not only protect you from the assailant but also hold you back from attacking the stranger at the same time. He struggles to stay between the two of you, and the stranger only makes it worse by taunting you.

"So what if I killed him, huh? What are you gonna do? What if I came back for his little sibling? Maybe I should've killed you both back then." He jokes with a smirk plastered on his face. 

Although he's clearly faking it, you lunge yourself forward, blinded by your anger. Jeno manages to stop you just before the stranger jabs at you, getting cut in your place. Hearing his groan of pain snaps you back to reality, so you look to him to make sure he's okay. Rather than looking at you, he steadies himself before punching the guy in the chest. The stranger drops the knife as his hands fly to his chest, trying to regain the breath that the punch took from his lungs. Jeno kicks the knife back towards you, and you cover your hand to pick it up without leaving your fingerprints. When you look back to the two boys, Jeno has one of the assailant's hands pinned behind his back tightly.

"So, what do we do with him?"

Before you respond, you dial the police and explain the situation. After hanging up, you simply respond, "That."

The stranger starts laughing - a laugh fit for a psychopath - and slowly lifts his head towards you. His teeth showing clear, sharper than human teeth. Suddenly, you realize the danger. He wasn't just any man with a knife - no, this man is a werewolf. In a matter of mere seconds, your worry for Jeno grows stronger. He's still a teenager, with years to look forward to. He shouldn't be risking his life to protect - SMACK.

The noise brings you back to reality, and you make a mental note about zoning out too much. Looking over, you expect the worst. You fear that the wolf overpowered Jeno and ran, maybe taking a piece of your bodyguard with him. What you find, however, is the wolf's face against the floor, Jeno's hand holding him down with ease.

"You... can overpower a werewolf?" Your confusion shows.

"This lame excuse of anything more than a human isn't a wolf. Most of the people that get called werewolves are only dogs, nowadays." He calmly explains everything, "It's hard to tell the difference as a human, so everyone is blanketed under 'werewolf,' and we don't fight it."

"We? So, then... If you're more powerful than a, uh, a weredog? Does this mean you're a werewolf?"

"Oh, Taeyong didn't mention that?"

At that moment, the police show up, take the attacker to their car, and start asking you and Jeno questions about the incident. You explain what happened, hand over the man's weapon, and give them your card so they can call you if they need you again. Before they leave, they warn you both to be safe. You and Jeno finally continue your walk to your apartment after seeing the officers off.

"So, Taeyong knows?" You finally ask as you unlock the door to your apartment, gesturing for Jeno to come in after you.

"I assumed that's why he told you to hire me. He's a dog, y'know. He could feel it."

Your eyes grow wide. You and Taeyong worked together for years, yet he never told you anything. Slowly but surely, you feel like Taeyong isn't who you believed him to be at all.

"Y/N? Didn't you know that? I figured that's why the two of you were partners. That's usually how it works - a human and a hybrid usually work together on hybrid cases; the same goes for wolves, except that it can be a weredog or werewolf on the case because of the blurred lines."

"I had no clue. He never told me. Never even hinted at it. I think I'm gonna have to sleep on this thought. Did you want to stay? You're free to use the couch."

After the day's events, Jeno decides that it's best if he stays. After all, he has to protect you, even if it's from your closest friend. He promised his dad that he'd atone for his brother's mistakes. Even if you never figure out that he destroyed the office and stole your file. Even if he has to forever hide the fact that his brother killed yours. He'll protect you. From anything.

Especially since you're his mate. He's known since the day you met years ago. He'd never mistake your sweet scent for anyone else. No matter what, he'll keep his mate safe, even if his own brother comes back to hurt you.

[evanbuckley-heartofgold]

Hiii me again, cause I love your Baby Buck stories.... What about Buck having nightmares, and Athena babysitting him cause Mama Thea and Baby Buck melts everyone's heart ❤️

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy!

TW: implied child abuse

Before Bobby knocks on the door, he crouches down in front of his son. Evan tips his head to the side expectantly. “Listen to me, bud. If at any point you are overwhelmed or uncomfortable, all you have to do is tug on my sleeve and we’ll go, okay?” 

Evan nods and Bobby affectionately ruffles his hair. He stands and knocks three times on the door. It swings open after a few seconds and Athena smiles at the two of them. She’s dressed a little nicer than normal, but they both agreed that his dinner won’t be anything fancy. “Come on in,” she steps aside and allows them to walk past her. “Dinner’ll be ready in five.” 

“Sounds good,” Bobby responds. He keeps a hand on Evan’s shoulder as they walk down into the living room, Athena trailing behind them. May and Harry are sitting on the couch, they stand when they see Bobby and Evan. May smiles at Evan while Harry looks at him curiously. Evan looks up at both of them nervously. Bobby has met Athena’s kids a handful of times before, but this is the first time their kids are meeting each other. 

Before deciding on this dinner, Bobby and Athena had a long talk about the future, their future. Since they both have kids it was an especially important discussion. Their decision at the end was not to make any more concrete decisions until their kids meet. If for whatever reason they don’t get along, Bobby knows he might have to rethink some things. Because Evan is the most important person in his life and he doesn’t want to force the boy into something he doesn’t want or would be comfortable with. 

May smiles at Evan and gives him a wave, “Hey, Evan. I’m May and this is Harry,” she nods to her brother. Evan returns the wave shyly, hiding a little behind Bobby’s legs. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“You too,” Evan’s voice is quiet and Bobby knows it’s because he understands how important tonight is. He wishes Evan didn’t have to worry so much. 

“You’re dad’s a firefighter, that’s so cool!” Harry exclaims. “Have you ever been in a firetruck?” 

Evan nods, “Yeah.” 

Harry groans, “You’re so lucky, mom says that I can’t ride in her police car.” 

“Not unless you’ve committed a crime,” Athena laughs and ruffles her son’s hair. The oven beeps in the kitchen and she touches Bobby’s shoulder as she walks past him. Bobby watches on as Evan walks over to Harry and the two strike up a conversation. 

May walks over to him and says, “You don’t need to be so worried. Evan seems really sweet.” 

Bobby smiles at her, “I know, it’s just nerve-wracking. This is the first time my son is meeting my partner’s family, I think I’m allowed to be worried.” 

“Dinner, everybody!” Athena calls from the kitchen, interrupting whatever May had been about to say. Harry and May walk briskly to the dining table while Evan walks up to Bobby, sticking close to his side as they walk towards the dining table

Bobby gets Evan settled between him and Harry and helps him fill up his plate with the dishes they pass around. Once everyone’s plates are filled, all five of them take hands and bow their heads.

After they pray and begin to dig in, Athena looks over and Evan with a smile, “How’s school been for you, Evan? You transferred to a school in the city, right?.” 

Evan nods, “Yeah.” After Evan’s school burned down, Bobby transferred him to Harry’s school which is also helpfully closer to the fire station. He doubts that Harry and Evan have had much of a chance to interact since they’re in different grades. “Um, it’s been good,” he looks nervously up at Bobby who nods encouragingly for him to continue. “We went on a field trip to the museum last week.” 

May smiles, “I remember going there when I was in elementary school. Did you get to go into the butterfly room?” 

Evan nods excitedly, “That was my favorite part! It was really hot in there but there were so many different colored butterflies.” 

“My favorite part is the dinosaurs,” Harry says. “The one with all the spikes is my favorite.” 

Evan shakes his head with a little laugh, “Those are too scary.” As the three kids discuss the museum and their favorite exhibits and memories from school trips, Athena and Bobby share a smile across the table. He takes her hand and squeezes lightly.

After dinner, once all the dishes and in the dishwasher, Harry takes Evan’s hand and the two boys nearly run to Harry’s room, talking and laughing. Bobby feels a swell of pride in his chest. Athena sits down next to him on the couch as May departs to her bedroom as well. Bobby smiles at her, “This went well.” 

“Yeah, better than I could have expected,” Athena leans against his shoulder. “Does this mean another long talk is on the horizon?” 

Bobby chuckles, “I guess so. We can wait a little bit though.” 

Athena hums contentedly and links their fingers together, Bobby resting his cheek against the top of her head.

“Do you think you could watch Evan on Tuesday night?” Bobby asks after a moment of silence. “I have an overnight shift and I don’t really want to leave him with his babysitter.” 

“Of course,” Athena agrees. “I’d love to. Micheal’s got the kids that night so I can come over to your apartment.” 

“Thank you,” Bobby says. “I’m sure he’ll be happier with someone he’s more comfortable with.” He watches a smile spread over her face at that.

...

On Tuesday night, Evan is put to bed by Athena. She smiles softly at him and draws the covers up to his shoulders. It feels nice, Evan decides. She brushes a curl out of his face and reads him a chapter from his book. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Athena says as she leaves the room, clicking off his light. His room is illuminated only by the faint blue light from the nightlight across the room. Evan turns on his side, back facing the wall as he hugs Bunny and closes his eyes.

Evan dreams of people screaming at him, their faces tomato red in anger. He dreams of their harsh words and angry fists. He hears glass smashing and he can smell the thick scent of tobacco. 

Evan jerks awake when someone touches his shoulder. He scrambles backward in panic, pressing his back into where the corner of his bed meets the corner of the wall. He wraps himself into a tight ball, knees up protectively against his chest. All he can hear is the echo of angry words and his hard breathing. 

In the darkness, his eyes search his room, looking for anyone who could hurt him. There’s someone sitting on the edge of his bed. “Don’t hurt me,” Evan whimpers. “I-I’ll be good, I promise.” 

The lamp clicks on and Evan can see the person sitting in front of him. His dad’s girlfriend. Athena. She’s looking at him with a deep frown. Her voice shifts through all the noise in his head, “I’m not going to hurt you, Evan. You’re safe.” 

Evan shakes his head, “D-Daddy?” He can help, he knows he’s safe with Bobby. 

Athena sighs, “He’s at work, Evan. I can’t call him right now. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Is there anything I can do?”

Evan squeezes Bunny even tighter and shakes his head. He wants a hug, to be held in someone’s arms and know he’s safe, but he can’t ask for that. He can’t. 

“Are you sure, baby?” Athena asks. “Do you want a glass of water?”

Evan shakes his head. He takes deep breaths just like his dad and his therapist taught him.

Then before he can help himself, he crawls to Athena and worms his way into her arms. He rests his head on her shoulder and waits with a pounding heart for her to shove him away, but she doesn’t. Instead, her arms curl around him, squeezing just the right amount. He cries softly into her shoulder and she gently runs her fingers through his curls. 

“It’s okay, baby,” she tells him softly. “You’re okay.” 

He lets her arms support him and protect him from his memories. 

“You’re safe,” Athena repeats over and over. 

And he believes it. He knows that he’s safe with her, she’s the first person besides his dad that he’s ever believed those words from. 

Please reblog if you enjoyed! :)

[smolbeandrabbles]

Cold Night - Ralph Anderson x Reader (The Outsider)

GIF Credit: X

Sure Be Cool If You Did / Bienvenue From Hell, Mon Amour / Made in the USA / Under The Weather

Author’s Note: So, we’re still using book Ralph’s personality. Because that’s where I’d like to keep him! 

I just got this idea whilst thinking for a little too long about the show... And also this song, as ever, popped up on shuffle and went “You know what would be good...!”

And thus, you all get your 5th installment of Ralph Anderson

*Note, the DA is back to his book name, Samuels, for part consistency. 

Disclaimer: Characters and plot lines from The Outsider are all Stephen Kings / Thanks YM@S for once again providing some great lyrics from this album / Gif not mine - credit as appropriate.

Premise: As detectives and partners, it’s good from time to time to discuss cases... But sometimes you need something a little more than just discussion to help you through them... 

Words: 2063

Warnings:  All Fluff  - I just needed me some Sweet-Soft!Ralph.

_________ It was a cold night, we laid with each other just to stay warm Up all hours, not for the last time As it's a cold life, stay with each other one last time We could always run away some other night

Don't you let me go this time Don’t you let me go this time Don't go baby, it's time for us you know. Don't go honey, this way we'll never know Don't go honey, this way we'll never know

It was a cold night, the talk of forever kept us warm But even forever, doesn't last that long I say, say you'll never, say you'll never change

Say you'll never, say you'll never change Say you'll never, say you'll never change I knew the moment I met you I could never lose you I knew the moment I met you...

---

The house was unusually quiet. Not that it didn’t have its quiet periods, but when all three of you were in it at once it was certainly unexpected. You thought you knew the reason why, and shuffled from the room you were in - sorting books, and realising one was missing - through the house until you found him. Lying across the sofa on his back, holding the book up, not exactly engrossed, but turning the pages like he was paying attention. Ralph Anderson probably wished the case file had never crossed his desk – but then who else’s?

You leant yourself against the wall, arms folded until he noticed you. It was obvious by his body language that something was off. Which is why he was probably so quiet. He got through at least 3 more pages before he even noticed you were standing there. That was worrying, Ralph was the more observant of the two of you. And he liked to tell you that often. Usually by standing in the middle of the crime scene staring you down, hands on his hips; “yeah, what are you missing?”

No so today, although the fact that he didn’t look at you when he addressed you meant he might just have been waiting for the right time. “How do you read this?” You tipped your head to speed count pages; “...Strange words for a man who looks like he’s about a fifth of the way through it...” “I didn’t have anything else to do...” he mumbled, shuffling around on the couch. “Funny, you’re using all your tells...” you crossed the room to him in swinging lazy steps “Babe, what’s wrong?” He shrugged; “Nothing.” “If you wanted to take your mind off the case, may I suggest not reading a detective mystery novel?” He sighed, lowering his arms for a moment; “I just wondered if another detective could help me out? Like if I was missing something... maybe I could try another method? I dunno.” You frowned, “Well... you live with another detective... are they not good enough?” “I don’t want you involved in this one...” “Why?” You crouched “I’m a big girl.” “I know.” He laid the book on his chest and reached out for you; “...But I’m also aware you have a little girl...” fingers ran through your hair as he framed your face, the movement of his thumbs affectionate. You very nearly rolled your eyes “Ralph, it’s hardly Frankie Peterson 2.0...” “I know but I don’t want you involved - end of-!” “So you instead want to sit here and suffer in silence?” “Well...” it was a small smirk but it’d do “Yune isn’t available.” It was all you could do to chuckle; “Yeah well. Why doesn’t that surprise me.” You moved your hands to his shoulders caressing them gently - and hoping that would at least bring some comfort; “Baby, I’m here - talk to me.” “I know... I know I just...” Ralph sighed again, arm stretching further so that his hand covered your neck, meaning your hair now brushed against his skin. “...maybe that’s all I need right now?” You gave a soft smile; “What?” “You. Right here...” Then he applied gentle pressure and you knew what he wanted - you leant in to brush your lips to his; and he didn’t let you pull away - linking his arms behind your head. He successfully stole more kisses than you were going to allow him, before you propped yourself back onto your elbows. But one of Ralph’s hands still framed your face.

“Call me crazy... but... there’s something about you, Y/N... that I...” he laughed, quiet, breathy - like a private joke to himself “At points you are... erratic. But right now? You’re the most calming presence I think I could wish to get.” “Yeah?” You would disagree “Yeah.” He nodded, his fingertips moving in soothing patterns over your skin “...so I just need you right here... and maybe my head’ll clear a little.” “Well, you’re lucky I’m available and don’t have a date with the DA.” Though your smile was sweet “You know I would cancel on him for you, right?” He chuckled, leaning up to kiss you again as he took your hand in his; “I’m honoured-!” “Oh, no, it’s you that is doing me the honour of letting me of all people be your quiet space...” “Mhm-! C’mere...” Ralph pulled you from your position on the floor around the couch, and then tugged you down to lie with him, arms wrapping around your shoulders, he cuddled you close before kissing your hair. “I need you, Y/N... Real bad at times.” “Perfect balance.” You’d said it before… He’d said it before. Heck – so many people had commented similar you were starting to believe it. His smile was thoughtful “Beyond perfect balance. So don’t go changing on me...” “Wouldn’t dream of it...” you rubbed his back soothingly, “Now go on, you get on with thinking your case through. And I’ll try not to move...” “We’ll see how long that lasts...” he murmured, twining your legs with his in an attempt to make your promise a reality. “I love you... you know?” “...I did know that, I think, yeah.” “But I mean it. No jokes.” “Jokes?” You smiled gently, looking up into his serious blue eyes, and the way his mouth pressed into a thin line, furrowed brow creating those cute little wrinkles across his forehead. He worried too much. “Jokes? The Ralph Anderson I know doesn’t joke...” you kissed his forehead gently “Hush baby, you do what you need to. And I’ll be right here. We’re partners, y’know? I’ll always be right here...”

 ***

 Ralph had never been the only one to need quiet alone time to think on a case. And sure enough, as he solved a tough one, you gained a tough one.

You loved talking things out and ranting but... Ralph was your partner at work, and after you’d spent all day starting sentences with ‘yeah-! BUT-!’ or ‘Oh! And another thing—!!’ you didn’t want to bother him. Especially not this late at night. But this one was keeping you up. You wanted to prosecute... Samuels was being iffy with the evidence and kept saying; “bring me something else.” Even when you’d exasperatedly told him “There is nothing else—-!!!” It was times like this you wished you didn’t have to take the case alone. And this one in particular was keeping you up. If you didn’t find evidence, the person responsible wasn’t going away – and you already knew they were capable of doing it again.

Hence why at 2am, when Ralph woke up alone, you weren’t with him. His first thought was to check in on Reneé – as it nearly always was, sometimes you liked sitting in with her, but sometimes he just wanted to be sure that she was safe. He stood in the doorway for a little longer than he’d been planning, with a tiny absentminded smile, before realising that at 2am he should be looking for you. He closed the door on her with a smile; “Goodnight, Angel…”

After the light outside caught his eye, he found you huddled out on the back patio with a fire burning and a blanket around you in a chair. He sighed gently, pulling his jacket a little tighter: “Babe. It’s freezing, what are you doing?” “I just... needed some air.” You gave a shrug but didn’t look at him, “Clear my head a little.” He leans against the inside doorframe not quite committing to the cold night air himself; “Are you okay?” You chewed your lip for a second, “Yeah.” “Y/N.” You huffed, frustrated at his stern voice and gave an agitated snap back. “I’m fine.” “No you’re not; you’re using all your tells.” Ralph always thought using your own lines against you was pretty clever. And looked at least mildly amused as he folded his arms. You scoffed, unimpressed with his deduction and buried yourself further into your blanket; Ralph continued – peering across the back yard, submerged in darkness, aside from the occasional firefly. He raised his eyes heavenwards, to watch the stars for a little while. Because he didn’t know what else you could be looking at. “…Is it the case?” “Hmph.” Was as good as he got, and when Ralph cast his eyes back to you, it was the fire you were more interested in. “Isn’t it always with us?” You bounced your leg gently and chewed your lip, he was right. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He kept his eyes on you, but was continually met with silence. Eventually Ralph couldn’t stand it, and the wind chill was beginning to make him shiver. He stepped down onto the patio and crossed to you; “Come on.” “What-” you didn’t have much time to retaliate as he pulled on your blanket bundle and hoisted you into his arms “Come on. You’re gonna catch a cold at best if you’re out here all night-!” “RALPH-! PUT ME DOWN!” “I will. Upstairs! In bed!” He glanced back at the fire and, satisfied that it would burn out safely in its own, carried you back inside. Glad that your blanket cocoon would stop you from fighting this too hard. Having said that, by the time he’d ascended the stairs your head was resting against his chest and you seemed pretty sleepy. He deposited you on the bed – glad you were at least in comfy clothes. “You’re gonna sleep though? Right?” “…I dunno. I might need to do some more talking over this thing…” Ralph let his breath escape in an elongated sigh; “Right…” He pulled the duvet over you as he settled down. “Then you’re gonna sleep, okay?” “…Okay.” Though your agreement was somewhat reluctant. You had to wiggled your arms out of the blankets to wind them around him as he pulled you closer. Flinching suddenly as your skin brushed his; “Oh my god – you’re so cold! What were you doing-!?” “Trying to get my brain to work.” “Well if that leads to pneumonia, you’ll be no use to anyone…!” He rubbed your arms until he was satisfied you were warming up, pressing kisses gently to your forehead. By the time he’d finished, and had laced his finger with yours, heads together – you were wearing his favourite smile, content and sleepy, a little bashful and shy. The one he saw most often if he did something sweet for you, the one just before your eyes would look to the floor and you’d tuck your hair back and say ‘Thank you…’ Tonight however you giggled, “I think… I could probably do this forever…” “Huh?! What, sit on the back porch freezing to death-!?” That only made you laugh more and you finally got him to do the same, “No.  Have you look after me…” “Ah-! You’ll be so lucky as me putting up with you forever…” But he was smiling, “…It’s what partners do, right?” “It’s more than some partners deserve…” You mumbled “Hey-!” He punched the top of your arm lightly “I won’t have you talk like that. Stop.” Then he took you back in his arms, “Y/N…” You snuggled into his chest, feeling his breathing, his heartbeat and the way his vocal cords reverberated through his body… his warmth… and you curled your fingers into his shirt. “Okay. Ralph. I’m sorry.” “You best be…” He rubbed your back as you curled into him, and then brought his knees up to wind his body around yours protectively “…Now, come on, softie – talk to me about this case…” “I love you.” He didn’t vocalise his laugh, but you could hear it in his voice - that joy could have been about how sleepy you sounded though. That you were switching off, finally “…Oh. I think that my detective skills helped me figure that one out a little while ago…” “…I’d like to love you forever… if you let me…” He opened his eyes, and watched you for a moment, but you didn’t reopen yours – just shifted to get more comfortable, and closer to him. He shook his head, with a smile; “Y/N…! The case-!” “T…tomorrow…” You yawned “It… can wait…” Ralph continued relaxing you until he was sure you were asleep, and only then did he close his eyes; “I love you too, you know.”

---

@menndelsohn​ @3134045126​​ @happyskywhale​ @wltz-bby​ #MendoTagSquad

I finally figured it out!

[grandmalavi]

Another Marquillo/Serquel fic... Little angst/smut/cheesy, I guess. Enjoy! :) “Of Paper Hearts and Other Things”

OF PAPER HEARTS AND OTHER THINGS

Raquel couldn't sleep.

She'd been in bed for the best of an hour now, tossing and turning without success, while the annoying clock by her nightstand mocked her brightly at every marked second passed she didn't catch a wink. Sighing, annoyed, she finally turned on her back and gave up, throwing the covers aside to stare at the fan spinning lazily on the ceiling above her head with a scoff.

She could hear the murmur of their conversation filling their house with noise, clearly still ongoing in the living room right now.

Sergio's group of robbers, la banda she'd first met by arrest pictures and crime records only, with the Dalí masks in lieu of real faces and personalities, was currently spread around their dining table, talking and laughing like any ordinary group of friends would. She'd left them to their cheap drinks and strange conversation topics earlier, refusing Sergio's offer to follow with a thin smile, because despite knowing deep down this day would inevitably come like he'd warn her many times over, right then Raquel felt so overwhelmed at the sight of these people she'd once aimed to put behind bars she felt like she could easily scream if she stayed in their presence any longer. She needed time to think, to be alone, to process everything before starting to see that situation as normal, somehow.

And, true to her request, quite likely guessing how she felt as well, Sergio hadn't come to bed until now. Raquel wasn't exactly annoyed at him because of this, but she was annoyed indeed, considering this small, petty side of her wanted nothing but to kick all these strangers out, lock Sergio with her inside this bedroom while she still could wrap herself around him, and claim him as hers, and hers alone, in face of the change they dropped to their doorstep without notice. This wasn't jealousy per say, she knew… Raquel wanted to support Sergio on his decision, of course, and that being said she'd stand by his side till the end like she'd promised, undoubtedly so. No way she'd allow him coax her into staying behind like he'd probably attempt sometime in the future, not when she'd finally manage to grab hold of him once again. Aside the overall strangeness she felt, she'd never compete for Sergio's loyalty with his friends either, even if meant feeling unwanted amongst them.

But somewhere deep down, embarrassing as it was, Raquel was scared. Sick of her stomach, she'd overthinked this subject so many times already it was no doubt she lost her sleep.

Ironically, what frightened her the most wasn't the prospect of what they were about to do. Deliberately going back within justice's reach to commit an even bigger crime with a bounty for their heads all over Spain, with the unforeseen risks she knew Sergio would lose nights of sleep without end trying to foresee somehow… No, Raquel actually felt prepared for that, as far as anyone could, for she'd always been a fighter at heart. She thought she could handle the pressure, too, having almost twenty years in law enforcement as baggage...

No, what scared Raquel the most was the way they looked at him. At Sergio. Tokyo, Nairóbi, Denver, Helsinki, Estocolmo, all of them… a group of wanted criminals sitting there, side by side, shockingly different people except for the way they all looked equally enthralled by Sergio whenever he'd open his mouth. How intensely they seemed to look up at him, all of them, like actual students during class. As if they were waiting for all the answers to their problems to be solved by a word of his, somehow— which they probably were.

Raquel saw how, just by sitting there in their living room across of them, Sergio could no longer be the man she loved, only, but El Profesor instead, under their eyes. Their leader, the one supposed to make sure everything would be fine, and everyone involved would walk away free and safe by the end of this. Responsible for rescuing Rio, for mastering the perfect plan twice with less than half the time he had two years ago, for making sure they'd succeed once again in the end… and more, no doubt, if it'd come down to it.

And just by watching Sergio's behavior, Raquel felt certain he'd already put all of their hopes upon himself as well, just as fiercely and without the need of them ever asking him to, probably as soon as he called them over to Palawan with a crazy rescue mission in mind. He was a man used to bearing responsibilities all by himself, and being one of the same kind, Raquel knew he'd never admit how much it'd cost him to do so out loud.

El Profesor was back to lead his people, and it terrified Raquel what he'd be willing to sacrifice to protect them as well.

And what for?, she asked herself. For this group of strangers, who couldn't do as much as to care for their own safety? For this reckless young man that risked everything, everyone, just to hold onto his stupid love story? For his girlfriend, a timed bomb ready to explode their plan to bits like several times in the previous heist?

Sergio was ready to sacrifice their peace, clearly, but for what?

Family, she remembered him saying back then. The night of the day she came to find him here in Palawan, laying together in this very same bed with their limbs entangled so tightly there was no telling where one's body started and the other's ended, Sergio told her everything there was to know about the heist that brought them to meet each other, everything he'd lie to protect back then. He told her why, and then about his father, the real version of the cider story where a sick little boy's life hung on a thin thread that wavered and threatened to snap every time his father would enter a new bank… he told her about the others, about the time they lived and planned together, and how he'd never intended to but started to think of each of these strangers as his family in no time, somehow.

This time, Sergio was doing it for his family. His, and… And hers, now, too, Raquel realized with a sigh. There was no point fighting it, she supposed. Not when everything Sergio loved had an habit of taking little bits of space within her heart so thoroughly, in no time. Not when she couldn't bear seeing him hurt, not when she knew his guilt set the deepest roots and charged the higher of prices...

Not when, she was sure, this was partially for his brother as well.

With a wave of deep sadness washing over her body at the thought, Raquel heard a knock on the door. Two familiar raps, hesitant, and then she turned on her side to see the doorknob turning as the door opened inside, just a creak to reveal Sergio's glasses and beard peeking in to check if she was still awake.

Seeing that she was, in fact, wide awake in her t-shirt and panties only, bare legs and messy hair in evidence, Sergio's face broke into a smile, before he stepped in and closed the door behind his back. This time Raquel heard the click of the lock before he came up to her, approving his thought with a languid smirk curving her lips.

As he came to seat over the mattress, she curled her legs to fit better around his body, sighing in contentment once he caressed his fingers through her hair, smiling down at her.

“Did you have fun?”

Sergio sighed, pushing his glasses to the top of his nose “Define fun. When I left, a bottle of moonshine Helsinki produced out of nowhere was passing around, while he and Nairobi entered a heated discussion over which one of them actually managed to sleep with a legend called, and I'm paraphrasing, 'Nine-Inches-Joe” in a night they were both particularly drunk…”

Raquel laughed, throwing her head back “No wonder you ran away.”

“I believe I might have left one or two burnt footprint marks on the floor behind my escape, yes.” Sergio smiles, putting a loose lock of hair behind her ear “I did need the time to think, though, and it wasn't that bad of a view on the porch tonight… the waves wild, almost alive underneath moonlight. You'd enjoy seeing it.”

Raquel pursed her lips, tapping his knee “But then you wouldn't be able to think much, no?”

Sergio's eyes crinkled as his smile widened, his hand sneaking up her bare tight “You do make for a pleasant distraction, indeed. One I'd be ashamed to ignore over revising the details of our plan, no doubt.”

Raquel sighed, propping herself in one elbow “I thought we agreed on no overthinking the detailing until we'd get out of the island. You told me there was no doing it without Andrés' old partner, Palermo, right? So losing what could've been, at least, an entertaining time on bed since sleeping is clearly off the table… was kind of stupid coming from a so called mastermind as you are.” she rested her cheek to his leg, eyebrows raised at him “ Don't you think, Profesor?”

“Ah, well…” he hid his grin behind adjusting his glasses again “When you put it like that, Inspectora…”

Smirking, she tugged at his hand, leaning back on the mattress with intentions of pulling him along “Then come. We still have time to make up for it.”

Sergio smiled, letting Raquel guide him to come hovering right above her, both his hands propped by the sides of her head as she reached a hand to remove his glasses gently, setting them carefully by the nightstand. Turning at him with a responding smirk, she gasped a little when his legs straddled her around the hips, making as so she'd be completely at his mercy, trapped underneath him, in a manner that kind of made her think she wouldn't bother much if at some point he'd move on to restraining her wrists— or at all, actually, for the matter.

“You sure you didn't share a little of that moonshine, Marquina?” Raquel cocked one eyebrow at him, already working on unbuttoning his shirt, from bottom to top “Because you're sure as hell smelling like you did.”

“Good to see your Detective skills aren't rusty, Inspectora Murillo.” Sergio shook his head at her, leaning in so that she'd have better access to the damn little buttons she'd been about to pop off all over the place “I might have tried a sip or two, out of curiosity,” he wrinkled his nose a little “and I believe it was enough of an disgusting experience for a lifetime, thank you very much.”

“Hmm?” Raquel hummed, pulling at the open sides of his shirt to reveal Sergio's bare chest victoriously, at which he helped with a short laugh, shrugging them off once she tugged at the fabric impatiently “So you come to my bed tipsy, full of filthy intentions to catch me out of guard on lack of sleep…” she murmured, finally tossing the piece of clothing to the side aimlessly to slide her hands over his bare torso and ribs, smirking once he sucked into a harsh breath at the contact “...don't come complaining to me if your students end up hearing the things we'll do loud and clear later, Professor. You do know how noisy you can get on a glass of wine…”

“My self restraint is always sharp around my students, but thank you for your concern.” Sergio rolled his eyes, leaning in so close the tip of his nose french kissed hers, his gaze resting shamelessly over her lips “As we have established on previous experiences before, though, your dirty mouth might be in need of censoring my poor class about. But no worries, Inspectora, for I am quite sober, enough to muffle your enthusiasm if things get too… descriptive, as they often tend to do.”

“Really?" Raquel breathed, grinning against his mouth as Sergio hands drove south, underneath her t-shirt and up her belly, making her skin rouse in goosebumps “Because I remember things being the exact opposite, in fact-”

Sergio swallowed her clever comeback all at once, his lips shocking almost aggressively against hers, making her moan between gulps of air. She nibbled at his bottom lip in revenge, her tongue battling his as her hands snuck up his back, her nails digging in satisfaction into his flash each time he'd grind his hips against hers in the most outrageous friction, once in face of her cotton panties he was still pretty much dressed above her. That being noticed, her hands immediately flew to his belt, struggling with its seemingly suddenly almost doubled complexity as she felt Sergio unclasping her bra with expertise. Obviously planning on stripping all of her remaining clothes at once by pooling her shirt right underneath her breasts, he groaned against her lips before shifting his mouth and teeth to that sensitive spot on her neck that never failed on making her eyes roll to the back of her head, one hand already very much cupping her breast impatiently through the fabric on the way.

Raquel smirked once she finally managed to launch his belt somewhere onto the floor, losing no time unzipping Sergio free of the pants that restrained his very evident erection, coaxing a gasp out of both as she caressed his length briefly, somewhere between the hasty pulling and rustling of clothing that followed their eager movements until his damn pants too flew to pool on the ground by the bed. Leaning fully back over her, he kissed the throbbing pulse at her throat as Raquel grabbed a handful of his hair, the other having his shoulder on a death grip as she felt his fingers ghosting down her sides to hook her panties roughly down, helping her wriggle free as she used him to lift her waist, separing their bodies for a brief but endless second before their hips met again, blessedly bare.

Sergio groaned and Raquel gasped, her eyes fluttering closed at torture of feeling him there, but not quite inside her yet. Impatient, she sighed in approval to his kissing venturing the vale between breasts, but hissed in frustration when her moving suggestively against him only resulted on him holding her back down with a firm hand on her hip, continuing exploring her skin with a jackass smirk she could practically sense there on his lips.

“Profesor, I really appreciate your teaching efforts,” she growled by his ear, both hands grabbing around his nape “but if you don't move to the damn main lesson soon enough, your class will riot.”

Sergio laughed against the hollow of her throat “You must've been quite the troublemaker on the class, Inspectora.” he raised his head to grin at her, his pupils huge as hand drifted from her hip to rest over her belly button, making her suck into a harsh gasp “But you see, if you'd ever had a decent enough teacher in the past,” he hummed, making his hand wander, down and down, agonizing slow towards south “you'd know very well a passionate teaching experience cannot be hushed.”

As he touched her exactly where she needed the most, Raquel arched her back off the bed, eyes closed and head rolling back as she let him prove he might not have the worst point going on, shutting up for good. Soon enough though, suddenly too soon, Sergio's fingers were out and grasping her legs to bring them around his waist, his chuckle breathless on her ear as she groaned a protest, his erection very much urgent pressed hard against her in explanation to why he practically ripped her blouse and bra through her head next, making Raquel laugh too once she fell back on the bed with a huff, smiling shamelessly at being finally naked in front of him.

“Class dismissed?” she asked mischievously, hands cupping both the sides of his face.

“Class dismissed.” Sergio breathed, bending down to kiss the smirk off her face, swallowing her moan as he slid inside her in a single thrust.

“Hey, listen. I think all the booze finally knocked them out.” Raquel murmured against Sergio's chest some time later, curled against his side, her eyelids already half closed as his hand drew lazy shapes between her shoulder blades, lulling her closer and closer to dozing off in the happy bubble of his arms. Besides the sound of their even breathing, they could hear how the entire house now fell into a relative silence but for the waves crashing outside, once la banda finally seemed to have shut its nightly activities and scattered off to their respective rooms for the day.

She felt him smile against her hair “Well, let's hope whatever they decide to do in our guest bedrooms isn't any worse than what they were doing in the living room.”

Raquel lifted her head to raise an eyebrow at him “Like the things we were doing just a second ago, Profesor?”

Sergio grimaces, pushing the glasses he'd just put back in up his nose “Believe me, I've caught them in different states of embarrassing situations while we lived together before, Inspectora, and none of it would be something I'd picture us doing in our free time without being traumatized for life.”

“Really?” Raquel grinned, curious.

“Tokyo and Nairóbi are worse than teenagers.” Sergio sighed, looking so much like the every bit of a father figure she'd imagine him being to the group of thieves Raquel chuckled against his neck. He glared at her obvious amusement at his expenses “What? Trust me, if you're not buying it now, just wait until we're all obliged into living a bedroom apart of them in the same space again. Then you'll see for yourself.”

“Oh no, I'll leave all the surveilling and scolding for you, Profesor. Gladly. You've got more experience,” she kissed him, pulling back with a hand automatically scratching his beard “and besides, I'm terrific at playing the Good Cop part.”

“Throwing me at the wolves by consequence, then?” Sergio clicked his tongue at her, grinning, pushing her hair behind her ear with a soft look in his eyes “You're a mean partner, Inspectora…” he cut himself, hand freezing, frowning a little “Something's stuck on your hair.”

“What?” Raquel turned, trying to take a peek as his fingers dug around the back of her head, searching her hair until he grabbed it, whatever it was, held it up and laughed soundly at sight of it “What is it?”

“If this were to be a magic trick, it couldn't be more perfectly timed.” Sergio grinned, handing her the slightly crumpled red origami swan retrieved with a flourish and a head shake “It must've fell off my pants once you launched them all the way across the room…”

“I was only retribuying the favor you paid my underwear, Marquina.” Raquel rolled her eyes at him, recording the consider amount of searching it took for her to conclude her panties must've disappeared into whatever alternative dimension he'd manage to throw them into. Turning the origami over in her hands, she smiled a little, attempting to smooth its wrinkled edges with her thumbs “So this is what you rather do, outside in the cold, instead of being warm here inside with me?” she cocked an eyebrow at him “If you want to brood, you might as well let me use you as a pillow while you do it, Profesor.”

Sergio's eyebrows rouse “Oh, but how can you know I was brooding, Inspectora? I could've being simply enjoying the view…”

“It's the world's worst hidden secret you origami while you trying to focus, Sergio.” Raquel balanced the paper bird right above his chest, watching it rise and fall along his breathing, batting her eyelashes smugly at him “It's an endearing nervous tic, really. Incredibly telltaling, though.”

“You've got me all figured out then, huh?” Sergio opened a quick smile, grabbing hold of the origami, then glanced sideways at her, sudden nervous, she could tell, when he used that same hand to push his glasses back up his nose, sighing “Did I ever tell you where this habit came from?”

Raquel shook her head, propping her chin onto his chest to watch him better, smiling encouragingly “No. But I'm all ears.”

Sergio inhaled, hooking his arm around her back to squeeze her shoulder in way that made her scoot closer, draping a leg over his with a light frown creasing her brow as she waited for him to speak.

“My father taught me how to make these.” he whispered, fidgeting with the red swan distractedly, a distant look in his eyes as he searched for his next words, clearly already lost in thought. Bearing a tight smile on his lips, he continued “He actually learned how to do origamis just so that he could teach me, in fact. It was back when I was still in the hospital, spending my time mostly getting overly anxious about which tests they'd run on me the next day, when he heard a nurse mention paper crafting helped some of the kids around the pediatric aisle to pass the time… The hospital staff would promote classes in the common playing room, for the children that wouldn't depend on machines 24/7 to participate.” he glanced over at Raquel, his eyes a little sad “And when his trying to coax me into joining them didn't make me overcome my embarrassment over my condition's new developments on…” Sergio's hands shook the slightest as he adjusted his glasses “...mobility issues, well, he went there and learn it himself, so that he could teach me a better coping mechanism than obsessively reading the same books, over and over again.”

Raquel smiled softly and kissed his chest, ignoring how this rare mention of his illness tugged at her heart strings, knowing very well she'd have to wait until he'd be ready to give more details himself “He was a good father. He knew how to work you out of your shell.”

“Ah, well, I was always a bit of a tough kid to work around,” he smiled a little too self-deprecating for her taste, shrugging “quirky to top my crippling social awkwardness, even before my disease started to develop initial symptoms… So my Father had the experience, I suppose. He knew the origaming would work like a charm on me, mostly because whenever I'd be faced with learning a new skill, I'd obsess so thoroughly over it I wouldn't have the time to worry while occupying myself with doing the task, whatever it was, to absolute perfection.” Sergio sighed, a nostalgic look on his face “He'd sit by my bedside and we'd fold pieces of paper into different animals, over and over again, even between blood tests and the needless I'd have nightmares about… His origamis were always a little bit crooked, and he'd joke about how unfair it was he'd have his son beat him in paper crafting, even, when chess was already a game he'd be no match against me.

“It was ironic, really, how much I'd enjoy beating him, proving myself better, smarter than him, Raquel.” Sergio's smile disappeared, and without seeming to realize what he was doing, he slowly started to unfold the origami bird back into a square of paper as Raquel observed him, resisting a sudden need to stop his hands with her own “My father was usually, if not always, the smartest person in every room, and all I ever wanted was to be exactly like that. He knew that much, of course, and so he was sure I'd master everything he'd teach me, that I'd feel proud of my accomplishments… which weren't many, being that I had to quit school for good once my constant headaches were proved to be much more serious we'd initially thought, given that in order to stop my constant seizuring I'd need to be on a heavy drug treatment 24/7, queasy and trapped to a damn hospital bed all day long.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Raquel covered his hand with her own, squeezing his knuckles “You never told me it was like that, so…” terrifying, she mentally completed, swallowing dry rather than speaking it out loud, tearing up a little at the thought of how scared Sergio must've felt, being deprived of so much in such an early age. Of how desperate his father should've been, once being a mother had taught her that any parent would always suffer along their child, no matter what “You were lucky to have your father, that he'd know how exactly to take your mind out of being sick." she murmured, finally, blinking her tears away to muster a weak smile at Sergio's serious expression “He sounds like a good man. Wonderful parent, no doubt. I think… I think I'd like to have met him.”

Sergio opened a tiny smile in response, nodding when her hand drifted to rest right above his heart “Yes, you would've. He would've, too, you know.” he eyed her, a little shy ”He'd have a whole lot to say about me finally finding a woman to match my stubborn witts, no doubt.”

Raquel laughed, shaking her head “He sounds like he and my mother would've have the best time going about each of our flaws, and how much patience each of us would no doubt need to handle the other's complicated ways…”

Sergio rolled his eyes, fingers suddenly back to fidget with the piece of paper until he started a few hesitant new folds “Oh, yes, definitely. He'd find in your mother's no-nonsensical approach a close match to his own, believe me.” his grin made another appearance, then, this time more genuine than sad “He would never let me have an easy time back then, you know, being a sick kid and all. He'd do his best to treat me like a normal boy, to give me some sort of a routine that went beyond nurses and doctors and being put into different machines for CT's that lead to nowhere at every week or so. He'd never let me suspect the lengths he'd went through just to afford the newest experimental drug treatments… And when both my mobility and cognitive abilities only worsened with time, he'd still make sure I'd have pieces of paper always at reach, once despite having a hard time writing and walking got me increasingly frustrated by day, I'd still manage to do origamis if I was careful and patient enough. As long as I could do this, he told me," he showed Raquel the partial folding between his fingers, his voice cracking slightly “I'd know my body would still be under my control.”

“So you'd know there'd still be hope, that he'd make sure everything would be alright.” Raquel whispered, cradling his face between her hands, feeling how tense his jaw tightened under her palms as she guided his gaze sorely into hers, so that he'd see the gratitude deep inside her eyes towards this father that sacrificed his life so that the love of her life could live and love alongside her, today “He never gave up saving you, and he was right, of course. He made sure you were cured, and he made sure you actually lived and knew how much you were loved while he fought to keep you alive.” her lips trembled as she smiled, her eyes just as watery as his, glimmering softly behind the lens of his glasses as he heard her, his chest rising and falling hastily with each breath “That's it, you know. That's the kind of parent I aim to be to Paula as long as I'm around. That's the parent everyone deserves.”

“Yes.” Sergio whispered, nodding softly, blinking tears that got stuck to his lashes rather than being shed. He covered one of her hands with his, looking sad and fond and dead serious, all of sudden “That's exactly the kind of parent you are, Raquel. When I saw you and your daughter together for the first time, it was like a flashback. It was how I fit one more piece into the puzzle you were to me,” he touched his forehead to hers, brushing his lips to hers “a discovery that made me realize your love for her would inevitably be part of why I was so incredibly fascinated by you. One more risk, to getting lost on everything about you.” he smirked, slowly and impossibly sweeter, pushing away to better look at her now smiling, flushed face “To breaking my very first rule...”

“To falling in love.” Raquel whispered, even though they never really needed to put things in terms such as this, even though they both surely felt the same without the need of saying it out loud— because suddenly, despite knowing, she felt like hearing the words coming out of his mouth, aside doing even greater things to her pounding heart, also wouldn't hurt at all.

“Ah, well… That, too.” Sergio cleared his throat and blushed, adorably shy as he always got around feelings. His awkward smile, kissable in so many ways, flashed quickly before his hand went on a reflex to push his glasses back on place, as he inhaled, deeply, before nodding, a resolute light shining to his eyes “Definitely. I, well… I never really had a fighting chance.” he shrugged “ I fell, quite spectacularly. Head over heels.”

Raquel smiled wide, pleased, pushing herself up to plant an open-mouthed kiss on his lips so eagerly Sergio chuckled into her mouth “We both fell, Profesor.” she nuzzled his beard, feeling happy and silly all over “We're both such great losers, for a teacher and a cop.”

Sergio laughed again, shook his head. Then, most definitely blushing all over, he shrugged “Well, Inspectora, I wouldn't say you didn't win anything…” he gaped a little, before offering her the origami she never noticed him finishing, somehow folded into a brand new thing now. It was a red heart, folded perfectly there in her palm, so impossibly sweet Raquel had to pinch her lips not to laugh at Sergio's pained grimace, as he struggled to let each cheesy word out, red like a tomato “You won my heart, after all.”

No longer capable of holding her joy any longer, Raquel chuckled at his silliness, shaking her head and cradling his chin to his kiss his adorable vexed pout at being made fun off. Holding the origami heart safely close to her thumping own, she grinned like a teenager against his lips “You won my heart too, despite being too smooth for your own good. Thank God you're so shy, or else you'd be married by now.”

Still flushed, Sergio's eyes were serious underneath all his overall awkwardness as he shrugged, exhaling “Well, I'm… I'm up for it whenever you are, Inspectora.”

Raquel stopped, blinked. A little stunned, she tilted her head, knowing this man would never say or do anything unless he'd meant it with all his heart “I…” she found expectancy there in his face, her heart tightening a little as she searched her next words carefully “Ask me again some other day,” she breathed, unsure “and we might have a deal, Profesor.”

Sergio took in her words, silent for a heartbeat, before relaxing visibly, nodding his understandment. She knew he immediately got what she meant, as usual, that this was far from being a no, rather simply a not today, not right now...

Not when we're about to walk into a damn battlefield.

”Alright.” he smiled, covering the hand that held his origami heart right above hers with his own “And when I ask, I'll make sure to bring a ring into negotiation this time.”

Raquel answered him with a kiss, for there was no further saying needed between them, once more.

Their deal was inevitable, as it was her answer, already bound to be no other than yes.

[artificialqueens]

In Retrograde : Chapter Three (branjie) - Ephemerals

Synopsis: After spending months uninspired, Vanessa, a local reporter, becomes infatuated with writing a story surrounding the downfall of a police officer discharged after killing an innocent man.

When Brooke Lynn returns to her hometown after her life begins to fall apart, she doesn’t expect to find solace in the charismatic brunette who seems just a little too invested in uncovering all the secrets of her past.

It was just like any regular Tuesday night patrolling the streets of Toronto for Sergeant Hytes. In the passenger seat sat her partner, Constable Oddly, bored out of her mind. The pair made quite a duo, on and off the field. Over the years, Yvie had proven herself as Brooke’s only decent friend in Toronto. It did involve brazen nights out fuelled by binge drinking and drugs, but it was a nice change for her to be authenticity herself around someone. And honestly Yvie was unlike anyone she had ever met.

“Look, can’t we just ditch this and go back to my place and get stoned,” Yvie pleaded, Brooke shooting her a stern look in response. She impatiently tapped her fingers on the wheel as they aimless drove around.

“That seems like a one-way ticket to getting fired,” Her attention diverted back onto the road.

“The old Brooke would have done it,” groaned Yvie, playfully punching Brooke’s arm, “I miss that bitch.”

“That bitch had to clean up her act, remember.”

Brooke missed the old version of her too. Spontaneous and fun, she didn’t care what people think of her. Now, things were much different. She went to rehab (under the radar, of course), received a promotion and she was just months away from getting married. Brooke couldn’t be a party girl anymore. It was time to grow up. Luckily, Yvie understood what she had to do, but it didn’t mean she had to be happy with it.

“Yeah, you had to clean up your act for that fiancé of yours,” Yvie stated, “Who you don’t even like.”

Yvie was right and she knew it. The couple was doomed from the start. Brooke was much too independent and mostly unfazed by their relationship. During the time they had been friends, Yvie had seen Brooke engage in very brief affairs but she wasn’t one to stick around for long. It might be commitment issues, but Yvie honestly thought it ran deeper than that. So, the fact that Brooke has been with Luke for so long really was a surprise.

“He’s a good guy, Yves.”

“That’s not usually how people talk about their significant others,” Yvie smirked. Brooke just shrugged the comment off. It wasn’t the first time Yvie would make a comment like that, and it wouldn’t be the last time.

“So, are we getting stoned or what, Bee?”

“Shuga would kill us if she found out. Especially if something happens and we don’t report back.”

“That’s not a no,” Yvie playfully added. Brooke shook her head, “It’s a no.”

“I hate when you’re serious, bitch. Let’s hope there is some dumb crimes tonight to keep us busy.”

So, they drive. And just like any regular Tuesday, it’s uneventful. As time dragged on, both girls were awaiting some action. The streets were completely still, not a single soul embarking out into the nightlife.

Then, the radio goes off.

“Requiring backup for a domestic dispute at Wexford. Victim dead on arrival. Suspect armed and on the run. Caucasian, 6’2, slim build. Last seen wearing a burgundy t-shirt and grey sweatpants.”

Yvie beamed in anticipation, “Heading towards Wexford, over.”

…

Brooke is awoken by a violent pounding in her head. Instantly groaning at it’s appearance, too hungover to actually do something about it. It’s beating through her skull like a drum. Unsure how long she was out for, she glances at her phone. 10:27.Her mind wanders, memories of the night before foggy in her brain. That girl. What in the world was up with her?

After futilely trying to go back to sleep, Brooke eventually prys herself away from her bed in search of painkillers. She pads into the en-suite, disheartened by the completely empty medicine cabinet. While there, she washes last nights makeup and grime from her skin. She stares at her reflection for just a moment too long, before treading downstairs to scour the guest bathroom for drugs. Brooke passes her mother in the kitchen without a word, retrieves two ibuprofen capsules and swallows them down with a swig of tap water. Heading back towards her bedroom, she’s stopped in her tracks by her mother.

“Where were you last night?”

“I didn’t know I had to report to you,” Brooke wanders into the kitchen, her mother on her tail. It was easier to rip the bandage off, endure the conversation now rather than actively avoid her. She props herself up against a cupboard awaiting her mother’s scolding.

“While you live under my roof you do as I say,” her mother’s stare is icy cold. Arms folded, stern. For a second, Brooke is taken back to her teenage years, where she could do no right in her mother’s eyes. Her walls are up in preparation for a fight.

“I’m thirty-three, I’m sorry that I assumed I was allowed to be independent.”

“Well, you lost that privilege when you almost died during a cocaine binge, remember?” There’s a beat, Brooke’s mouth agape, “Someone has to babysit you since you constantly fail at taking care of yourself. I’ve booked you an appointment with your old therapist, no discussion.”

Brooke had to admit, she should have seen it coming. Her father wouldn’t have hinted at the idea unless her mother was devising a plan. Yesterday was a warning.

“What if I just don’t-“

“No discussion. The appointments at three.”

Brooke huffs as she storms off like an upset child. She marches up the stairs and climbs back under the covers of her bed. Her head continues throbbing despite the medication but she does her best to doze off, praying she sleeps through that three o’clock appointment.

…

“I don’t think I’m able to write this story, Ms Visage,” Vanessa meekly admits, standing before her editor. Deadlines fast approaching, Michelle sitting emotionless, scribbling on another reporter’s draft. The office is outdated, with wooden sliding and retro styled furnishing. If the budget allowed for it, the first thing Michelle would do is redesign the place but the reality of working for the local newspaper meant money was tight.

“And why is that?” Her gaze doesn’t wander from her work. Vanessa gulps, billions of excuses flying through her head. I’m unsure how to get close enough to her to get the story. She seems like a nice girl and I misjudged her. I almost knocked her over and she was super pretty and nice to me. I couldn’t even speak to her properly.

She could have had her story, but Vanessa ran straight in the opposite direction.

“I was too ambitious,” it’s a lie.

It peaks Michelle’s interest. She glances up above her glasses, unconvinced.

“Too ambitious? Go on.”

“I wanted to write an exposè, y’know. Deep dive into her life, find out how someone ends up killin’ a kid. Talk to her friends, family maybe.”

“That doesn’t sound ambitious, it sounds like journalism,” Michelle is absolutely unimpressed. She drops the pen from her hand and reclines in her chair. Vanessa stands still, waiting to be reprimanded for wasting her time.

“Miss Mateo, you are a very talented journalist. Much too talented to be writing for this newspaper all your life. You have a rare opportunity here to establish yourself as a reporter. I want you to write this story. Forget the deadline, hand in some shitty pieces about local events in the meantime. Don’t be afraid to pursue this. It’s the first interesting idea that has come my way in years.”

The response was the exact opposite of what Vanessa expected. She was ready for a slap on the wrist, to forget about the whole ordeal. Write an article about the local nursing home for the hundredth time. Stay content in her slump for a little longer.

There’s a story here begging to be shared to the world. A story like nothing Vanessa has written before. She’s not going to give up this time.

“Okay,” Vanessa is strangely inspired by the challenge, “I accept the challenge, Ms Visage.”

There’s a skip in her step as Vanessa leaves her editor’s office. Maybe this was her big break.

…

As three o’clock rolls around, Brooke nervously awaits her appointment with her phone glued to her hand. Her frantic texts to Nina receiving instant worried replies. Rightfully so, there was a pattern of Brooke’s self-destructive behaviour increasing after her visits with therapists over the years. Nina didn’t understand why exactly, since the point was to help improve her mental state. But having Brooke confront her feelings head on? It was a risky decision to say the least. A string of texts from Nina come through rapidly one after another.

n: you’ll be fine, b it’s only an hour of ur life i’m going out tonight w work girls u should come x

As much as Brooke would like to go out for another consecutive night, she couldn’t subject Nina to the consequences of her joining them. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Nina was ostracised by her colleagues for being friends with a murderer. Nina deserved the entire world. Brooke had come to the conclusion that their friendship was one better off kept secret. For Nina’s sake.

b: don’t think i’ll be welcome

Almost immediately there’s a response:

n: they will love u besides u can’t turn down a drink x

Regardless if she was accompanied by Nina or not, both girls were aware of Brooke’s intentions for the night. As soon as she could possibly leave this building, she will, heading directly towards the closest alcohol vendor. It would be nice if she wasn’t alone while she did it.

b: fine, u have convinced me x

“Miss Hytes? Doctor Envy is ready to see you now.”

…

Tires skid on wet asphalt, blue and red lights flashing, sirens blaring through the city streets. A quarter of an hour had passed of their manhunt, the novelty was finally wearing thin. News gushes through the radio, reported sightings, updates, anything. Eyes glued to signs of movement, Yvie’s soaking up every miniscule detail of the city. Jobs like this one were the exact reason she joined the force. The adrenaline courses through her veins like a drug. Brooke’s extra few years on Yvie had caused her to become jaded. She was just waiting for the excitement to die down so she can clock off and indulge in a glass of wine at home. Of course she wanted the perpetrator to be caught and justice to be served, but pursuits like this were plain exhausting.

A call comes through and Brooke has her fingers crossed it’s home time. Her heart sank as Superintendent Cain’s voice bellowed through the speaks, “Any sightings yet girls?”

“It looks like the apocalypse has hit Toronto,” joked Yvie, “There’s not a single person out.”

“The guy’s Damon Carmichael. Been causing trouble for years,” Brooke recognised the name. She’d never dealt with him herself, but he had been a headache of her colleagues. There was a series of charges scattered all over the county in his name.

“There’s a dead woman rotting in his apartment. I don’t care if you bring back his corpse, I want him caught.”

The phone clicked off abruptly, the orders loud and clear. Brooke let out a sigh as drove down the same street for the umpteenth time. Streetlights dull, barely illuminating the empty road. She’s sure the neighbours are annoyed by them at this point. It was just another night on the job, keeping the country safe.

Out of the corner of her eye, Yvie swore she spotted something. Wound up on anticipation, Brooke just assumed paranoia had finally set in. However, Yvie’s adamant someone’s hiding by the church. Bringing the car to a halt, they decided to investigate. Gun firmly in hand, Yvie exited the car rushing directly into the darkness. Blood pumping, Brooke followed suit hand clutching the gun attached to her waist.

“Police!”

As Yvie announced their presence, something dashed away from them. It’s far too dim for them to work out what they can see. The younger girl is quick on her feet, Brooke in tow. A man emerged onto the dimly lit street. Burgundy sweatshirt, slim, young. A picture perfect match. Both women raised their guns in response.

“Freeze!” Brooke called. The man glanced back as he sprinted ahead. They picked up speed, trailing behind him. Yvie was just in reach, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. An attempt to tackle him is thwarted as he shoves the younger girl backwards, toppling onto the pavement. He keeps running.

“I said freeze!”

Brooke knew what she had to do. In front, he’s losing traction. Panting heavily, feet battering the concrete. She’s caught up. So has Yvie, who had dusted herself off with more motivation than ever before. With Yvie ahead, Brooke comes to a stop.

I don’t care if you bring back his corpse, I want him caught.

Yvie grappled him around his neck, the man writhing in her grip. His fist flies up, the impact straight to the jaw. He continued to thrash around, Yvie unable to secure her restraint. Hands shaking, Brooke raised her gun. If Yvie tightens her grasp, she’d have a clear shot.

“Fucking bitches!” It’s spat straight onto Yvie’s face. Agitated, she raises her knee into his stomach. He brought his free hand to strike Yvie again.

“Didn’t you ever learn not to hit women,” she hissed directly into his ear. The arm around his neck constricts him just for a moment. He’s still flailing in her grasp, but he’s still enough for Brooke to fire. Finger to the trigger.

Bang.

Bang.

The echoing of the gunshots ring as blood pools at Yvie’s feet. She has let go, but he’s wailing, still squirming on the sidewalk. Two shots straight to the chest. Yvie fell to her knees, drenched in his blood. Streets of Toronto painted red. Everything’s blurry in Brooke’s head. The gun is still raised towards him. She’s frozen.

…

“It wasn’t your fault, Brooke Lynn. You were just doing your job,” Doctor Envy shifts in her seat uncomfortably. The last time Brooke was here, she was just a destructive addict. Miles away from her usual cases in this small town, but things were different now. Years of psychology classes couldn’t have prepared her to be face to face with a murder.

“I wish people would stop telling me that,” Brooke slumps into her chair, sulking. The conversation had run in circles for the first half of the session. Doctor Envy prying into the very few facts she had learnt from the past. Addiction. Self-Injury. Relapse. Usually after years of knowing a client, some walls have been broken down. But everything Doctor Envy knew about Brooke was from medical files and newspaper reports. The most significant information shared was about her relationship with Luke starting and ending. She hated predicting the future of her clients, but it was inevitable. Unless Brooke started opening up about her feelings, she was a lost cause.

Doctor Envy scrawls meaningless notes down on her clipboard, each stroke filling the empty silence. Brooke isn’t going to crack. Not today, not ever. Brooke intently watches the hands on the clock get closer to the moment she can leave.

“You aren’t evil, Brooke.” She says it out loud, her voice shaking slightly. She says because she thinks it’s what Brooke wants to hear. Needs to hear. Brooke acts like it is white noise. Unconvinced by her words, Doctor Envy repeats herself.

“You’re not evil.”

“You don’t know that,” Brooke interjects. Her stare is cold and uninviting. She adjusts her posture, leans forward, spits, “You don’t know anything about me.”

She’s tired of waiting for confessions to pour out. The truth is only going to reveal itself if she rips it out with her own hands. Tough love.

“I know enough. Sometimes, it’s what you don’t say that matters most. Everyone in your life can see that you are struggling and they want to help you. But only you can start that journey to recovery.”

Frustrated, Brooke stands up, “Thank you for your time.”

“Stop running from yourself, Brooke,” Doctor Envy adds. A bookend to a bad conversation.

The door slams shut.

…

Vanessa is dressed to the nines. She’s in a leather ensemble: tight skirt, sandals laced to her thighs, braids flowing down from the crown of her head. Silky is ecstatic with her handy work. Sitting on the floor of her apartment, the girls took swigs from a bottle of vodka. Everyone was ready on time (for once), their cab moments away.

When A’keria had invited them all out, Silky had insisted to makeover Vanessa. It wasn’t a new thing, the girls often took turns dolling each other up. But it was Silky and at times she could be violently enthusiastic. Especially since Vanessa had accidentally ignored them all week, devoted on this story. A story which she was avoiding telling them about, knowing how unimpressed they will be.

They head out to a club the next town over. Nightlife in their small town was lifeless, full of drunks and rowdy men. They preyed on the presence of a female. Vanessa had seen it the night before. She had been around enough that the locals left her alone, but they flocked towards the first sight of fresh meat. It was a more balanced playing field when the numbers were equal. And from what A’keria had said, their group tonight was larger than normal.

“I have something to tell you,” Vanessa shares as they step out of the car. Silky tosses the taxi driver a wad of cash, tells him to keep the change. As he drives off, the girls ask what it is.

“I’m writing a story, somethin’ interesting for a change.” The girls walk towards the end of the line. Vanessa rustles through her purse, pulls out her ID from her wallet. Patiently, A’keria and Silky wait for details.

“It’s about Brooke Lynn.”

Silky and A’keria burst into laughter. The line inches closer towards the door, but they haven’t yet realised. Vanessa raises her eyebrow in confusion.

“Told ya so,” Silky howls, “Knew you were keeping something from us, bitch.”

“Can’t stay away from those bad girls, huh?” A’keria smirks.

A bouncer checks their identification, lazily flipping the card over. He points for them to go past, Vanessa last in formation. A’keria’s on the lookout for her friends as they enter the crowd. Hoards of dancing girls surround them, unknowingly sloshing vodka sodas on the floor with each movement. Gesturing forward, A’keria pushes ahead. Strobe lights pulsate from the ceiling. Their group collides with the other. Vanessa recognises a few of the women. Nina. Honey. Brooke.

Even in the erratic lighting of the club, Vanessa could tell the blonde was staring right at her. Their eyes meet, gaze lingering as Nina tries to introduce them over the blaring music. Brooke pulls away first, coyly smiling. A layer of sweat coats Vanessa’s palms. This was the last thing she was expecting tonight.

[thegreenfairy13]

Mr. Van Dahl’s Double Life - Part 8

Jim and Oz have been secretly married for years, fooling all of Gotham. One day Jim decides to come out of the closet. Oswald isn’t thrilled and Jim suffers the consequences. Read it on Ao3. 

Jim isn’t quite sure whether he should continue glaring furiously at his husband, strangle him, or wrap him into his arms while telling him everything is going to be alright.

At last, he settles for anger. It’s anyway his most common reaction to literally everything since coming to Gotham. He’s angry at his job, at the criminals, at his colleagues, at the politicians, at his ex-fiancées, and in a more general sense: at the entire world.

“How the hell could you keep that from me?!” the detective explodes, already knowing the answer. It might have something to do with his reaction.

“I,” Oswald licks his lips nervously while getting up into a sitting position. Having an argument is never pleasant. Having an argument while lying on your back with your belly bared is even less favorable.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d approve,” the gangster answers honestly.

“Damn right you are,” Jim growls in response. “You and your God complex. First, you think you are entitled to control all the crime in Gotham by handing out licenses and now you are the lord of life and death as well.”

“Oh, stop it with the licenses,” the mobster sighs, exasperated. “You love them and they got me re-elected as mayor.”

That’s quite true but that doesn’t mean he’s going to cave in. As Oswald insists on keeping up pretenses, he’s forced to arrest gangsters with a license. Well, at least those who don’t play by the Penguin’s rules. Ironically, Gotham became a better place by establishing a system of maximum corruption.

“You still have a God complex,” Jim huffs while folding his arms across his chest.

“So you actually would have preferred for Nygma to kill me?” Oswald inquires, fixing his husband with a severe stare.

“I would have preferred you being honest with me,” the cop snaps back. Getting up, Jim snatches his clothes from the floor and walks to the bathroom. He really needs a moment to himself else this will only become a screaming match neither of them is willing to lose.

Standing under the spray, Jim tries to pin down what exactly he is upset about. It’s not like he’s ungrateful not to be dead. That’s not the issue. The part in which he’s practically immortal - well, Jim can’t quite wrap his head around that just yet.

Also, he isn’t mad about Ozzie still being alive. Quite the contrary. Even imagining his husband, this snarky, cheeky, violent, bigheaded creature, not breathing anymore, takes the breath from his lungs.

The underlying problem with him and Oswald was and always is the same: their lack of trust. The kingpin of Gotham doesn’t let him in on his plans, hardly ever discusses his vision for the city with Jim, or even admits openly being with him.

Maybe it’s because Jim is still, at his core, a just man. He considers most of the Penguin’s methods excessive. Not only once did he try stopping his husband from completing his revenge or committing murder - often much to Oswald’s dismay. And admitted, letting some of their enemies walk away would often turn out to be a bad decision in the future.

Like this whole Nygma debacle. When finding out about Ed’s machinations considering the Red Hood Gang Ozzie wanted to deal with him in his own fashion. Jim convinced him to let the mentally ill man walk away and what happened? Right, his husband got shot in the guts.

Oswald loves Jim’s ethics but at the same time, he mistrusts him for being who he is. Yet by now, he should understand how the Penguin always would be the exception to any of Jim’s rules.

He should trust him by now. Loving someone or feeling the urge to protect your partner isn’t enough. Jim needs his psycho murder birdie to trust him but instead, he keeps enormous secrets from him.

Inconsiderately, he talked about divorce when all he wants is a functioning relationship and not this train-wreck. Of course, it’s his fault too. He never called Ozzie out on how he treated their marriage, never told him he would always find a way to ignore his violent outbursts. Jim always thought his actions would speak for themselves.

Turns out, the crime-lord doesn’t even trust him enough to tell him about the precautions he took in case one of them would die. It’s disheartening, to say the least.

Jim almost expects Oswald to be gone when returning from his shower. Yet the mobster is still there, lying naked under the covers, waiting for Jim to come back.  

Sometimes Jim wonders how their life would have turned out if they had stayed at odds. Would the city be as quiet as it is? Would they both have found another love? Would they even be alive or would they have at one point gunned each other down? Would he have arrested Oswald one day and put him behind bars for good? Could he?

He doesn’t want to think about it, honestly. The city blossoms under the Penguin’s reign and the price for that had only been for Jim to sacrifice a chunk of his morality while gaining this. It’s not a bad deal, everything considered.

“What else are you keeping from me?” Jim demands to know, tilting his chin slightly.

Oswald’s eyes are closed, he isn’t even looking at Jim. “Too much,” he admits with a heavy sigh, breaking Jim’s heart a bit further.

But here goes nothing. If he wants to save their marriage, he needs to press Oswald for answers or they truly might end up being enemies again. Not that he can even imagine how going up against his husband would turn out. The city would probably suffer considerably with the balance they had established gone.

“Why?” he asks, keeping his voice soft. Jim can be gentle when he wants. He’s anyway sick of being this rough, tough soldier.

Rolling onto the side, Oswald finally faces Jim. He shrugs. “I always loved you for being what you are. That idealistic, naive young man who came to Gotham to clean it up. I guess I only ever wanted to protect you.”

The detective can’t help but snort. That’s just so Oswald. He has a habit of ruining what he cares about the most. When it comes to what he loves, he’s seemingly unable to make good decisions.

“I haven’t been this young boy in a very long time. Maybe you just like the memory of who I was on the day we met,” Jim suggests.

“Maybe,” Oswald admits with a sad smile.

“I married you,” the cop reminds him. “Knowing full well you are a murderous, cunning, little weasel. I loved you anyway,” he adds when Oswald’s mouth hardens. “I thought that would be proof enough for you to trust me.”

“I never wanted you to be anyone else than who you had been,” the criminal tells Jim. “Who you are,” he corrects himself.

“Yeah, but you always wanted you to be my exception, right?” the cop urges. “And tell you what, you are. So stop keeping secrets, stop protecting me from truths you think I can’t handle.”

Oswald stays silent.

“I know who you are,” Jim carries on. “We never talk about it, but I have a very good idea about what you do. And I turn a blind eye to it. Constantly. I’m not a that bad cop I wouldn’t know about most of your machinations. I thought you would trust me by now.”

“If you knew everything you’d get a divorce and throw me into Blackgate,” Oswald replies, seemingly nonchalant. The way he tenses gives him away though. He’s anything but relaxed.

“Maybe for once you should try me,” Jim suggests. “You married me too,” he whispers.

“I remember,” he answers dryly. He’s driving Jim insane with his attitude. It’s the reason he fell for him. “Would you have ever considered immortality if I hadn’t made this decision for both of us?” Oswald asks.

“No,” Jim answers honestly. “But I guess I would have moved heaven, earth, and hell to bring you back from the dead if our roles had been reversed.”

Oswald’s pupils widen in surprise at this revelation. “What?” Jim snaps. “Did you ever doubt I love you? I might be not alright with what you do and how you do it but I’d die for you. I live for you. I get beaten up by Zsasz every week to keep up appearances.”

The cop snorts. “I tried telling you the entire week. I want us to be together. But I can’t trust you if you go behind my back. And you don’t trust me enough to be open with me.”

The mobster on the bed nods. “Jim, I’m a murderer who runs a criminal empire. And you are a cop who is alright with that because I brought stability to this city that is so very precious to the both of us. But what I do, is exactly what you swore to stop when coming here.”

“And you think I’m not aware of that?”

“I still wait for the day you are not only aware but truly realize that,” Oswald whispers back. “That will be the day our relationship ends,” he continues, unaware of the tears streaming down his face. “It might not be today - or tomorrow. But the day will come. And when this day comes, you will be grateful our marriage had been kept a secret.”

Jim’s mouth drops open. He knew Oswald had been trying to protect him by keeping their marriage a secret. Now, he has to learn he’s thinking years ahead. He’s not only protecting him from their enemies - with decidedly questionable methods, but also from himself. If they should really go separate ways, his integrity would still be intact. The very integrity Jim is dead set on destroying.

The anger slowly drains from him. Maybe they do have a true chance after all that mess.

Clearing his throat, Jim walks over to the man he agreed to spend his life with. A life that is going to be a pretty long one now.

“Oz, look at me,” he demands, gently tilting the criminal’s chin up. “I am very aware. But I, we, can’t continue like that. I am not ashamed of us being together. I might not like everything you do but I accept it. You are my exception to all of my rules and I think it’s not me who’s got a problem with realizations but you.”

Oswald’s awe-stricken expression speaks volumes. The gangster’s eyes fill with tears as he wraps his bony arms around Jim’s middle. Head pillowed in Jim’s lap, they stay like that for a while as the cop keeps rubbing circles up and down his husband’s spine.

It’s not ideal, it’s not alright, but they have all of eternity to sort their problems out and Jim is willing to roll with it.

“Can we leave the basement now, please ?” he grumbles when Oswald finally relaxes entirely under his touch.

Between the tears, he hears a muffled laugh. “Of course, darling.”

Jim sighs in relief. Talking about his feelings has never been his forte and he truly hopes such a lengthy conversation won’t be necessary for the next fifty years or more.

[thedarklordmegatron]

Gilgardyn Week: Day 1

Prompt:  “Since when have you decided to put on the mask?”

Rating: T for mentions of death, crucifixion and burning at the stake.

@gilgardynweek2018​ 

The masks had always been a source of intrigue to Ardyn. In the months prior to his meeting Gilgamesh, he had seen a few soldiers, or whom he presumed to be soldiers, wandering the countryside with them. Each had been alone and seemed to carry the weight of the world upon their shoulders, not that he’d ever had the pleasure of talking to them. Whenever he approached they would turn and walk in another direction. Had they not made it so obvious that they did not desire company, he would have liked to ask them about their intricate masks. As it was, he was forced to keep his curiosity in check, watching from afar and creating rough sketches by the light of his campfires.

It was only after meeting and befriending the nomad known as the ‘Blademaster’, Gilgamesh to those whom he trusted, did Ardyn finally discover the true meaning of the masks. 

They had been relaxing in their camp after a particularly gruelling day, which had left Ardyn significantly weaker than expected, when Gilgamesh accidentally came across his sketches whilst looking for his water-skin. Abandoning his search he sat down and with a nod from Ardyn began looking through them.

“I have often seen them in my travels,” Ardyn explained from his reclined position across the fire “Each mask is different and I try to keep note of them so I may know if I am crossing paths with the same man.” Gilgamesh made a soft humming noise, keeping his attention firmly on the papers. “Do you know of them?” It seemed like an almost foolish question to ask, surely he had to have come across them during his own travels.Most people knew of the ‘Wanderers’ as they were now called.

“I do.” Gilgamesh confirmed, setting the sketches down and reaching for his pack. For a brief moment Ardyn believed that was the end of the conversation, that was until Gilgamesh withdrew a mask, identical yet dissimilar to the others, from his own belongings. With grace a man his size should not have possessed, he stood up and moved to sit beside Ardyn, handing the mask over to him with an almost reverent gaze “They are a mark of dishonour amongst the nomadic clans.” He explained “Each bears different markings, specifically tailored to represent the failures or crimes of the individual.”

“And this is yours?” Ardyn questioned after a few minutes of silence.

“It is mine.” Gilgamesh confirmed.

“Forgive me for asking, but what did you do to earn one of these? We have been travelling together for quite some time now and I have never perceived you as a threat. At least not to myself.”

“I failed to protect our Chieftain.” He stated before elaborating further  “Every year on the eve of the Infernian’s solstice, all of the clans gather at the base of Ravatogh. It is a joyous occasion. Many of my people use it as a chance to find a potential partner, or to see family members who have joined another Clan. We-they sing, dance and generally enjoy themselves. You could be forgiven for thinking it was a wedding celebration rather than a festival of mourning. ” Ardyn remained silent, utterly enraptured by the blissful smile and gleam in the other man’s eyes as he spoke. “I had only just come of age when I was given the position as one of our Chieftain’s guards for the eve. It is a position all young warriors are given, an easy one but important nonetheless.” Closing his eyes Gilgamesh allowed himself to relax beside Ardyn. “I was so proud to stand beside him, despite having no understanding of what they were discussing.”

He opened his eyes once more and looked to the mask in Ardyn’s hands with a mournful gaze. “We had been dismissed for the night, though we remained close should we be needed, as was expected of us. There was a young woman whom I had been trying to court for weeks but had failed to gather the courage to approach, I was outside of her her tent when we heard the shouts. By the time I had made it back, three of our elders and our Chieftain were dead. It was chaos. Myself and the other four guards were rounded up and bound in chains, removed from the area until morning, when in accordance to the laws of our Clans we were to be executed for our failure. My father, rest his soul, begged the elders, claiming that I was too young to be given such a harsh sentence.”

“I know not how he convinced them, only that the following morning while my fellow guards were burnt alive, an elder came to me. He removed my chains and presented me with this mask. I was told never to return, on pain of death, and if I was ever seen without the mask by another of my people my life is forfeit.” He paused, reaching out to take the mask from Ardyn. “I was foolish to remove it when I met you but I wanted to start anew. I hoped that by leaving the lands of my people I could put my past behind me, but if you have seen others...” He sighed “If there are others then there are those who will be monitoring us.”

Beside him Ardyn slowly sat up with a frown, reaching out to place a hand on Gilgamesh’s arm. “So long as you are by my side, you have no reason to wear this. What happened was not your fault and know I place no blame on you, nor do I hold anything against you for it. And should I die, no matter the reason - be it my own stupidity or something beyond our control, know that it was never your fault. In all the months we have travelled together, you have yet to fail me and I know in my heart that you will never do so.” In any other situation the stunned and slightly hopeful look on his face would have been endearing, as it was, it only served to break Ardyn’s heart.

“Thank you my friend.”

When the rumours of the Immortal ‘Blademaster’ had reached his ears four hundred years prior, he had dared not hope. Could not hope that it was him. Prior to being dragged to his own execution, he’d been forced to watch as Somus branded Gilgamesh a traitor, both physically and verbally, before banishing the poor soul from yet another land. And in those brief moments before his crucifixion, Ardyn had prayed to the Six to be kind to Gilgamesh in his remaining years. Clearly those prayers had been ignored if the ghostly, one-armed figure before him was anything to go by.

“Ardyn” The figure said breathlessly, as they both slowly closed the distance between one another. “My Prince” Dropping to his knees Gilgamesh bowed his head.

“Since when did you decide to put the mask back on?” Ardyn questioned shakily as he joined Gilgamesh on his knees, reaching a hand out to brush his fingers along the side of the mask.”I am quite certain that I told you there would never be a need for you to wear it again.” 

“But I saw you die,” Gilgamesh lamented, slipping his hand out from beneath Ardyn’s to grab at his coat. “They forced me-I heard your screams.” His voice broke “I watched you die...I failed you my Prince.”

“You have never failed me.”Ardyn said softly “It was not you who nailed me to that cross.”

“I swore to give my life in exchange for yours, and yet I witnessed your death at the hands of those I should have protected you from.”

“Yet here we stand. Two Immortal beings cursed by the Six for trying to fix their mistakes.” Leaning in he tucked his fingers under the edge of the mask and tugged gently. “You have never failed me Gilgamesh. Twas the Astrals who turned their backs on our plight, you could not have defeated a god, let alone six of them.” Despite the unnatural glow Ardyn could still make out those eyes he had, and still, loved so dearly. A brief nod was all the permission he needed. His fingers were quick to find and release the latches and carefully peel away the ancient metal, he was almost jealous to discover that the face beneath it was identical to the one he had left behind.

“We are not the same men we once were.” Gilgamesh murmured as Ardyn set the mask aside. 

“No we certainly are not.” Ardyn chuckled ruefully, fingers exploring a face he had memorised and dreamed of for two millennia. “But we are still here, and those who betrayed us have long since passed.” One perfectly shaped eyebrow rose upwards. “With the exception of the Six, but we shall not have to deal with their interfering for much longer.” Gilgamesh lowered his eyes before nodding.

“The Chosen’s Shield came to me, how long ago I know not. I find tracking time to be an impossible task when I have no means to do so. The sun’s rays do not find purchase down here.”

Ardyn hummed softly “I do not believe the sun’s rays have touched the ground in a long time. It has been nearly a decade since the Crystal took dear Noctis. I cannot imagine that Bahamut shall keep him for much longer.”

“I had heard rumours of an ‘Accursed’ from those who came seeking my power, I did not expect it to be you.” He paused, looking up at Ardyn once again. “But I am pleased to be given the chance to gaze upon you once more, even if only for a short period of time.”

“I think you’ll find that there is nothing preventing me from remaining here.” Ardyn commented, sliding closer and pressing himself up against Gilgamesh. “Until the Draconian releases Noctis I have little else to do, his soldiers can only provide so much entertainment.” It took very little encouragement to get Gilgamesh to hold him. “I would remain here for as long as you would have me, though I would ask one favour of you.”

“Anything.” Gilgamesh replied immediately, leaning in to kiss his throat.

“Cast out that cursed relic. You have yet to fail me and have certainly committed no crime.Though if you remain fully clothed for much longer, I may be willing to reconsider that statement.” The mask was promptly thrown into the dark abyss, much to Ardyn’s relief. There had been enough anguish, they did not need a relic of the past to remind them of darker times, not when they were so close to finally achieving the peace they so desired.

[icedanceupstarts]

2019 US Junior Nationals Preview

Gold, silver, bronze and that world famous pewter are on the line here. Out of the thirteen teams that qualified to Junior Nationals, five of them are siblings, which is not a ratio you are likely to see anywhere else in the world.

As a warning to those who haven’t already heard, due to recent unfortunate events there is a brief discussion of allegations regarding sexual abuse of a minor under the cut.

Ella Ales/ Daniel Tsarik

Age: 17/17

Coach: Igor Shpilband and Pasquale Carmerlengo

Season's Best: N/A, scored 140.14 at Midwestern Sectionals

Sectionals Result: 2nd at Midwestern

Rhythm Dance: La Cumparsita

They are a new team this season and train in Novi. Ella was a singles skater until recently and this seems to be her first dance partnership, he competed with Amanda Miller last season. Until just a few years ago, he was also a competitive ballroom dancer. Look at him go!

We first saw Ales/Tsarik at Dance-Pairs Chicago, where they had some glimmers of promise but weren't even close to being soup. They're proof of just how quickly a young dance team can pull things together and show massive improvement and growth as a team in a very short amount of time. They have nice posture skating in hold, and fluid, expressive upper bodies as well as a charmingly hammy performance style. Combined with their massive technical strides over the past few months and they surprised quite a few fans by rocketing seemingly out of nowhere to grab silver at their Sectionals with fairly competitive scores. They're not likely to qualify for the junior world team, and they don't have the minimums, but they can get a great jumpstart on next season and make a statement by having a good finish here.

Oona Brown/ Gage Brown

Age: 14/16

Started Skating Together: 2012

Coach: Andrew Lavrik*** SUSPENDED

Season's Best: 133.83

Sectionals Result: 2nd at Easterns

Rhythm Dance: La Cumparsita/Tangled Up

Free Dance: Still Got the Blues

Sibling teams and color names, a US ice dance specialty! 5th at Novices last year, these two made quite the splash in their first junior season. They're great skaters with a lot of projection and maturity for their age, as tiny as they are. They've got such a great sense of showmanship and musicality, and are quite polished too. While it's their basic skating and charm that makes up the bulk of their marks, crowd pleasing elements like the hydroblading in their free dance or Oona lifting Gage while giving incredible face and sass are just a sample of great highlights that commit these two to memory. Their inexperience shows in some of their level struggles and stumbles, and they got called for a music violation in the free dance at their first JGP, and they had to rework the program from its original incarnation. It's still great even with a more obvious rhythm change, and we love their confidence and attack. With a team this young, some stumbles and mistakes are honestly more expected than not, and some low levels are not an issue either. Here's hoping that they deliver two fabulous, confident performances and start making their mark, regardless of the results.

***We have been struggling with how to address this, and it's an awful situation all around, but it would be remiss of us not to mention that while Andrew Lavrik has been their coach and choreographer all season, he has been suspended both by the rink and the Professional Skaters Association due to his arrest on January 7th for alleged sexual abuse of a minor. While we separated this section so as to try to not take the spotlight from where it's supposed to be, the Browns and their talent, it would be naive and shallow of us to say we hope that this doesn't affect them at Nationals. We do not want to speculate further, but at the very least the Browns are in a very stressful, upsetting situation as well as in the position of having to find a new credentialed coach to at least accompany them to Nationals. Our hearts go out to them and every other person affected, directly or indirectly, by Lavrik's alleged crimes.

Molly Cesanek/ Yehor Yehorov

Age: 17/19

Started Skating Together: 2018

Coach: Elena Novak and Alexei Kiliakov

Season's Best: N/A(142.03 at Sectionals)

Sectionals Result: 1st at Pacific Sectionals

Rhythm Dance: Mas Alla Del Sur

Free Dance: Flamenco Medley(25:00 on the video)

Another new team, Yehor previously competed for Ukraine last year. They started their season finishing third overall at Lake Placid and later pulled out a surprise victory at Pacific Sectionals over several more experienced teams who competed on the JGP this season. As a newer team their connection isn't automatic but they've really developed and are showing lots of promise. They’ve obviously been very focused on the skating and elements with that concentration on getting through the steps showing in their performance, but they’ve already managed to match each other well. They do have great energy in their free dance which helps distinguish it from their rhythm dance. If they continue their steady improvement of the past few months and continue to develop their connection and performance, they could place much higher than you might expect.

Katarina Delcamp/ Maxwell Gart

Age: 14/16

Started Skating Together: 2016

Coach: Svetlana Kulikova and Mathew Gates

Season's Best: 122.09

Sectionals Result: 4th at Midwestern

Rhythm Dance: Otra Luna/Libertango/Tango Amore

Free Dance: Italian Folk Medley

The 2017 Novice Silver medalists are one of the most charming young teams we have the pleasure of watching, but unfortunately also one of the messiest. We're not sticklers for polish, but Delcamp/Gart have a habit of slipping off their deep edges at the wrong moment and losing levels. They have incredible energy, speed, and commitment, but something about their skating lacks the innate security that makes everything feel planned, and it can leave you on the edge of your seat, and not in a good way. They are incredibly talented though, fast and expressive, with a strong connection, and they use her flexibility to create great elements and highlights in the choreography. The upbeat, chaotic energy of their free dance suits their skating very well and showcases their strengths while minimizing the areas where they're not quite as developed.

They've both been around despite their young ages, and he in particular found success with other partners, like his 2016 Intermediate silver medal with Avonley Nguyen. He was also the 2014 Juvenile silver medalist and 2015 Intermediate bronze medalist with Molly Cesanek. That previous experience does shine through for such a young, new team. They'll be looking to harness their strengths of energy and performance quality and add a refinement and maturity to make the judges sit up and make note of them for next season.

Alina Efimova/Alexander Petrov

Age: 17/20

Started Skating Together: 2016

Coach: Igor Shpilband, Pasquale Carmerlengo, and Adrienne Lenda

Season's Best: 131.50

Sectionals Result: 4th at Pacific Sectionals

Rhythm Dance: Toute Tourne/Ontra Luna/Pa Bailar

Free Dance: Who Wants to Live Forever

We've enjoyed Efimova/Petrov for the past couple seasons, and were very pleased to see them finally get a JGP in their last season of junior eligibility. They're a really fun, expressive team, and are so lovely to watch. While there have been a lot of great, enjoyable tangos this season, most of them tend to be pretty serious, whether they go for a classic drama, a more sensual elegance, or something more flamenco styled. These two have a really fun, upbeat, sassy tango that borders on downright playful at times. They clearly love their free dance and commit to every second. We personally might recommend a little less exuberant grinning for Who Wants To Live Forever, but perhaps we have found the answer to that question! It's a thrilling, engaging performance regardless. They weren't at their best at Sectionals, but they're more than capable of rebounding for a higher finish at Nationals than you might expect, and ending their junior career on a good note.

Sophia Elder/ Christopher Elder

Age: 15/17

Started Skating Together: 2011

Coach: Kelley Morris-Adair, Donald Adair, Igor Shpilband

Season's Best: 137.42

Sectionals Result: 3rd at Midwestern

Rhythm Dance: Tango Classico

Free Dance: Halo Theme

A sibling team sans color last names! Two JGP assignments this year after making their debut on the 2017 circuit and placing twelfth is a great showcase of how much young teams can improve when given the opportunity. Their programs this season are a great showcase of their flow and ease of skating together as well as a bit of drama. Their free dance is a nice step up in maturity with unique choreographic twizzles and spin matched well with the music. They have great tango posture and feel for the style, and there's drama in their movements and choreo even if they could at times bring a little more of that expression to their faces. With the added international experience under their belts, we expect these two to make a major push in the standings from their 11th place finish last season.

Caroline Green/ Gordon Green

Age: 15/17

Started Skating Together: 2009

Coach: Elena Novak and Alexei Kiliakov

Season's Best: No ISU SB, 157.41 at Mentor Torun Cup

Sectionals: 1st at Easterns

Rhythm Dance: "Essa" by Ostra Aires

Free Dance: The Devil Violinist

Sibling teams with color names part 2! Two time novice National champions, top 5 at their first junior Nationals in 2017 when they weren't age eligible internationally, reigning junior national silver medalists, earned bronze at both JGPs in their international debut and went on to finish sixth at their first junior worlds. An impressive resume for a team so young, and one that made them seem the obvious next top junior American team with Lewis/Bye on hiatus and Carreira/Ponomarenko moving up to the senior level. Unfortunately Caroline got sick and they were forced to miss the first half of the season, leaving Nguyen/Kolesnik to fill the gap.

Even with the late start, they're great skaters in good shape. Their performances at Sectionals and Golden Spin were a little reserved, but they got a level 4 on every element in both programs at Golden Spin. They started really coming alive at Torun, where they performed with their more customary levels of speed, expression, and attack. They've always been fast, dynamic skaters, and the tango works well with those strengths, but they've also really grown up over the past year. There's an added power and maturity in their skating this season, and their long lines are well displayed in both programs, although especially the rhythm dance. Caroline's free dance dress is literally a violin, which is a neat sartorial choice, although a trip through Wikipedia indicates that Gordon is neither the devil nor making a deal with one. It's a pretty powerful vehicle for them, and is clearly telling a story, albeit apparently not a more classical adaptation of The Devil Went Down to Georgia. There's such a natural drama to their skating which this program takes perfect advantage of. If they can marry their technical performance from Golden Spin with the more engaging performance from Torun, they have a shot at not just the junior national title, but setting themselves up for a junior world medal.

Eliana Gropman/ Ian Somerville

Age: 17/18

Started Skating Together: 2009

Coach: Elena Novak and Alexei Kiliakov

Season's Best: 148.51

Sectionals Result: 1st at Midwestern

Rhythm Dance: Nuevo Tango

Free Dance: Mozart L'Opera Rock

The reigning National pewter medalists will be looking to move up at least one step on the podium and make their first junior world team. Gropman/Somerville won their first JGP medal this season but were off the podium at their second assignment due to some errors. They still need to add more power and size in their skating, but they have lovely glide across the ice, and their lines and edges in the pattern dance are simply beautiful.

We've been watching Gropman/Somerville for a few years now and they have really grown up. He's such a strong lead in the tango and her movements are so placed, and they just have really fluid, seamless partnering. They're one of the teams where you can just tell that they've been together a long time. Their free dance is charmingly offbeat and clearly has a story behind all the movements. If they avoid some of the twizzle errors and other bobbles that nagged them at earlier events, they should have no trouble moving into the top 3 and making their first junior world team.

Jocelyn Haines/James Koszuta

Age: 16/20

Started Skating Together: 2016

Coach: Blanka Szijgyarto, Carly Donowick

Season's Best: 123.02

Sectionals Result: 2nd at Pacific Sectionals

Rhythm Dance: Sentemientos/ “Sweet Dreams(Are Made of This)”

Free Dance: Pearl Harbor

In ice dance, it pays to get together early, but these two are determined to succeed despite their rushed timeline. Haines/Koszuta won the 2017 Novice title in their first season together, and age out of juniors after this season. They are a team small in stature but with impressive lifts nonetheless, in particular their curve and choreographic lifts in the free dance. Their free dance in general in a great vehicle for them with a triumphant build they match in performance. They had some technical issues in the rhythm dance at Sectionals, but came roaring back in the free dance to win that portion of the competition and very nearly overall. If they can clean up their levels and skate full out, they have every chance of leaving their junior career on a high note.

Avonley Nguyen/ Vadym Kolesnik

Age: 16/17

Started Skating Together: 2017

Coach: Igor Shpilband and Pasquale Carmerlengo

Season's Best: 165.63

Sectionals Result: N/A

Rhythm Dance: Building the Bullet/Vuelvo Al Sur

Free Dance: “Demons” by Imagine Dragons/Experience by Ludovico Einaudi

The only team in the field who didn't have to qualify through Sectionals, Nguyen/Kolesnik have had a great breakout season. They were high on charm in their debut last season, but have developed enough technical prowess over the last year to challenge for the top of the junior field, and not just domestically. With the entire junior world team from the year before being absent from the junior circuit for one reason or another, they were able to take full advantage and make huge strides up the ranks, and now they're looking at their first national medal as a team, and possibly the title. They'll want to drill their tango to do that, as their size difference means their patterns are never their most comfortable element, but they make up for it with speed and charisma, and fabulous lifts. They had some issues on their twizzles at JGPF, which they'll want to avoid here to take the title. If they bring the attack and security in their elements that they displayed at JGP Ljubljana, it's going to be tough for any team to beat them out for the gold.

Katarina Wolfkostin/ Howard Zhao

Age: 14/16

Started Skating Together: 2016

Coach: Igor Shpilband and Pasquale Carmerlengo

Season's Best: 127.58

Sectionals Result: 3rd at Pacific Sectionals

Rhythm Dance: Differente

Free Dance: Dr. Zhivago

The reigning Novice national champions may not have the highest season's best, but they're definitely still a team to watch. They have a number of fantastic qualities and they're great skaters, but at the moment their technical abilities outstrip the rest of their skating, leading to lower scores. They've been losing a lot on GOE, but at JGP Ostrava their free dance BV was the highest of the entire event, and their BV in the rhythm dance was pretty solid too. There did seem to be some moments where they were more focused on making sure their edges were clean and precise than on skating as big or as fast as they could. That's perfectly fine-- they're building a strong technical base for the future, and depending on how training has been going, it could already pay off for them this week.

While you can see all the places they need to tighten up their skating in order to start raking in the GOE, they're still a wonderful team to watch. While a number of junior teams their age have approached the tango with noticeable timidity, these two attack it and give amazing face throughout. Their free dance is much softer and downright playful at times, as they toss off in sync salutes with a wink and a smile. Hopefully they've worked on smoothing out their elements and transitions, because these two are really a delight. We hope that they bring their best here to set themselves up well for next season.