#the hot inspector curse still holds

[danieyells]

I'm not sure why I feel so attracted to the idea of Jiro sedating the MC and touching them over their clothes but not daring to do much more, and later the MC waking up and thinking it was a kind of dream influenced by him taking care of their pre-op "well he was always handsome"

You're attracted to it because it's hot anon 👀 the vulnerability, the drugging, the lack of fulfillment when all he does is grope over your clothes, the uncertainty--i'm always a slut for dub/non-con and drugging oh lord 👀 tell me more anon

And man i sure hope this isn't total gibberish because i wrote it in parts over the course of the day and only finished like now and it's 4am. . . .

I feel a little disappointed in this one, i'll admit lolol and it's not exactly what you described but maybe you'll like it anyway?

Obvious non/dubcon and (consensual, medical) drugging cws. Additional warnings for that the pc is never named and is only referred to as 'they' for the most part, and I left their gender and genitals ambiguous, which makes for some sloppy writing on my part. . . .

They had been helping at Jabberwock a few days prior and they'd been bitten by an anomaly. It was a minor injury but Haru was worried about the side effects. After Towa nearly sent the poor creature to hell, they'd been sent to Mortkranken for examination, to be certain the beast's venom wouldn't have any lasting effects.

It was Yuri who inspected them the first time. Even after spending time helping the medical house, Yuri still made the inspector feel a little on edge. They worried the only thing that kept them from more than basic examination and preventative care was Professor Nicolas' presence.

"Their venom is slow acting." Yuri scoffed after they described the anomaly they'd been affected by. He walked with them after they were discharged, making his way to another patient in the building as he explained before they went their separate ways. "If you go a week without noticing any changes the medicine worked in full. Come back if you start experiencing any unintended muscle movements!"

With that sharp dismissal, they returned to the Cathedral, worrying over every twitch and itch and crawl under their skin.

And three days later they were once again in Mortkranken after a sudden movement of their leg nearly sent them careening down a staircase.

Kaito and Luca had been kind enough to rush them to the infirmary, where Professor Nicolas subsequently had them quickly transported to Mortkranken as the anomalous effects would be better treated there(much to Kaito's dismay.)

A general student saw them into a wheelchair and rolled them inside the office, helping them onto an examination table to make sure another spasm wouldn't cause them any injury. Even as they were brought inside they began to panic as the spasms increased in frequency and spread from their leg into other parts of their body. They shook and twitched against their own wishes, even as Jiro arrived in the exam room with the necessary materials.

"You're moving too much." Jiro sighed on sight, putting down the needle he'd filled without even saying hello. He moved to fetch a fresh one and a small jar of lavender colored fluid. "I'm going to sedate you. You should be okay to fall asleep, if you feel tired. You shouldn't die."

The human tried to find the honest statement and lack of alarm comforting. If they were dying then surely Yuri and Nicolas would have been contacted? Or perhaps their curse or the ring would have counteracted it?

The summer had seen them abandon their blazer in favor of wearing a short sleeve dress shirt, making access to their arm quite simple. Jiro moved to hold their upper arm when another spasm rocked it. After waiting for the jolts to cease, he gripped their arm tight enough to make them wince, disinfected their skin with precision, and jabbed the needle into their upper arm with a little pinch.

The effect was almost immediate as he pushed down the plunger. The moment the fluid entered them they felt fuzzy, their vision swimming as if with exhaustion. The warmth spread and their muscles relaxed, losing most of their strength. Where a convulsion was about to start they felt a much weaker muscle spasm, registering in their mind as barely a crawl of their skin. Once all of the fluid had entered them, the needle was pulled out and discarded in an anomalous container for sharps; the spot was immediately cleaned and bandaged.

The sedative must have had some additional effect, the inspector reasoned. Where Jiro must have had been pressing fingers against the plaster to stop any bleeding, they imagined a long press of his lips.

But that wouldn't make sense.

Or be sanitary wound care.

(Would he even have a concept of 'kissing wounds makes them better'? It didn't seem like he grew up in such a gentle environment.)

Once he was certain the spasms had been relaxed Jiro put on a new pair of gloves and fetched his original needle. "This should kill any of the remaining venom." He explained as he cleaned another patch of skin. "Aside from the initial pinch you shouldn't notice anything odd. Maybe a little burning.

"If you feel anything besides that. . . ." He looked into their eyes, glassy and hazy. Barely there, their mind and body were so numb. For a moment they were able to focus on him, and he seemed to smile in amusement--although, that would be strange for Jiro, so it must have just been the medicine. "Just lie there and drool, I suppose. I'll take care of it."

Any attempt at response failed, their body feeling so limp that even speaking was a task. It felt like a nightmare of helplessness, the kind they'd had many times since coming to Darkwick--unable to move their body and helpless at the mercy of some person or beast. But even through the needles' sharp penetration(barely noticed in the haze of their sedation) they felt surprisingly safe. Perhaps their sleeping mind heard Jiro's blunt explanations and took them as literal as Jiro meant them to be and felt no fear or discomfort. They were helpless and heavy, but not afraid despite it. Like a dream within a dream.

As Jiro had claimed, they feel nothing but a light burn tingling in their veins. A gentle buzz throughout their being. They could almost feel the anomalous medicine working, seeking out the toxicity in their muscles and killing it. Or perhaps the sensitivity was part of their sedative-induced dream.

"Done." Jiro announced. The needle left them, and they were cleaned and bandaged once again. Jiro kissed--or pressed against, more likely--the bandage until the bleeding stopped. They opened their bleary eyes to watch him as he cleaned up. "You'll need to be monitored for about ten minutes, to make sure there are no side effects." He looked back at them lying on the examination table, a limp doll of a human. Not that, compared to Jiro, they were much stronger than a doll to begin with. "Not that you can go anywhere. In your condition."

Was that a laugh, or a sigh? It was a little huff of a sound, something they might as well have had imagined. A lot of things seemed imagined here. Like that Jiro didn't leave to attend to another patient and leave a general student to look after them until they could move again. Yuri would have likely had them put in a chair and wheeled back home with one of their friends. . .or worse, used their helpless body in some sort of experiment.

Perhaps that thought is what made the Jiro in their mind come closer once everything was in order and examine them closely. Had it been ten minutes? Time really didn't seem to have a meaning right now. They tried moving, and found little change in when they were first injected.

"Did I give you too much?" Jiro asked, slipping strong hands under their arms and repositioning them. They managed a sound best(though still poorly) described as a weak squeak in acknowledgement. "It's a strong sedative. If I didn't give it to you the venom might have started coordinating your spasms until it controlled your body. You'll be able to move again eventually."

Once they'd been placed back onto the table in a good position, the head of the table slightly raised, Jiro watched them.

Then, he moved a hand to lightly rest on their sternum.

"You're not breathing very hard." He observed. His hand traveled over to the left, cupping their chest. His other hand went to their neck, resting over their pulse. The palm over their chest started stroking the area through their shirt, heavy and dragging as if absentminded. They tensed, trying to squirm but too weak to do so.

"Your RPM and heart rate are a little high." Jiro noted aloud, though not on any sort of chart. The hand on their neck traced their throat with a thumb. "And you're starting to warm up. An allergic reaction, maybe. . .? You weren't found to be allergic to any of the anomalous medicine we use during your health checks."

The hand on their chest gave the tissue a squeeze. First a soft massaging, then something rougher. The way he spoke was so clinical, they had to assume the contact was little more than a fever dream, the last of the spasms wracking their body in particularly sensitive places and their sleeping mind filling in the blanks with thoughts of their vulnerable body being toyed with by the handsome, stoic doctor.

Even the tweak to one of their nipples wasn't enough to wake them, only enough to elicit another squeak and make them shudder in lieu of squirming or arching their back. Even when the hand on their throat moved to their jaw and traced their lips, sinking into their unresistant mouth to stroke their tongue, they assumed they were dreaming, misinterpreting what was happening in the waking world. Jiro commented on their temperature, thumb teasing the back of their throat until they just barely gagged. He retracted his hand entirely to mind their pebbling nipples with both.

What started so purely as the medical attention they needed had, in some length of time that they couldn't measure through the fog, became a pair of strong and heavy hands tracing down their side and waist, sliding over to grope at their tummy. The muscles beneath weakly tensed at the ticklish feeling, and he gave a little hum in acknowledgement. "It looks like you're getting your strength back, at least."

When he relocated his hands to their hips, they confirmed this slight recovery with a little squirm. He squeezed down, presumably to keep them still. "Relax. You'll need your strength for when you leave."

Presumably, it was to keep them still, although they felt his hands slip beneath to their rear, kneading their ass and tracing their crack through their clothes. When he spread the cheeks, he once again received a whine and a squirm, which he responded to with a rough squeeze as if in punishment. Nonetheless, he moved down to their thighs, similarly admiring their shape and feel, before slipping his hands between and spreading them without a hint of effort on his part.

"Ji--!" Their slurred attempt at speech was disrupted by their choked gasp when Jiro's groping moved to squeeze their crotch. The sudden jolt of pleasure, after being worked up through what felt like hours of slowly being toyed with, was enough to almost push through the muscle relaxants in the sedative for just a moment, letting them arch into the contact. They were still too weak to grind into his hand, however, and he only pushed back enough to get their hips to drop painfully back onto the table.

"I told you to calm down." His fingers traced the shape of their genitals, stroking as if to learn the shape more than to titillate. Jiro was a doctor. He'd personally given them medical examinations where they were wearing much less. He already knew what was there, though not in such intimacy. He didn't like 'pointless' things. He wouldn't see a point in something like this. So it could only be a dream. He massaged them through the fabric of their uniform and underwear, fingers pressing and stroking where heat seeped through the most. They only hoped he couldn't feel the moisture gathering there as well. "Your temperature is going up again."

Watching Jiro's actions was difficult in their exhausted condition. While there was no way they could conceptualize that Jiro would actually do any of this, some part of them desperately wanted to know what Jiro--if only as a product of their imagination--was feeling as he brought them agonizingly slowly towards orgasm.

They blinked through the mist of tears they realized must have been forming along with the drool running down their still parted lips, until Jiro's face came into focus. He was much too close to their lap, so close his even, unhurried breaths could be felt warming them through their clothes. It only added to the stimulation. Jiro was an adult, even if he sometimes seemed quite juvenile, like when he laughed at stag beetles fighting or Yuri struggling not to sleep in class; it was surely impossible that he didn't know what he was doing.

On the other hand, he'd been in a coma for some time, and he had no real consideration for the privacy of others' bodies. . .the intent look of study combined with a tinge of pink on his cheeks as he breathed over their aroused genitals and felt the way the touch of his scarred hands made them change. . . .

It was as if he was using their body to sate some curiosity, rather than truly molest them. Even the way his other hand gripped their clothing, as if considering simply removing it, seemed too explorative to be malicious or manipulative.

Or perhaps they simply thought that way because their angle didn't afford them the sight of his lap, to see if he was, perhaps, getting as aroused as they were.

But Jiro paused in his ministrations, contact returning shortly to simply resting his hand on that sensitive and throbbing area, before he retracted his hands completely. Again, they whinged, squirming at being left alone as Jiro seemed to disappear from the examination table.

"Interesting." What was of interest wasn't quite clear. It occurred to them that their body's responses to their dream were real, and perhaps the real Jiro was made aware of their arousal. It was impossible to tell his reaction from his voice alone, and they writhed in humiliation at being caught in some sort of medically induced wet dream. "It seems like you'll need a little more time to recover."

They held their breath, but the contact never returned. They felt themself cooking down, but still sensitive, as if Jiro's touch was lingering. Occasionally they heard some noise in the examination room--a turning page or a keyboard or computer mouse or writing implements on paper. Occasionally a noise from a phone, or a distant echo from out in the hall. But for the most part, all they heard was a strangely loud and hazy silence.

At some point, the dream turned to void, as if they'd fallen asleep inside of it.

When they came to, the world had much less of a layer of fog over it. Their body still felt heavy, but not so much so that they couldn't move it. Sounds were a bit sharper, and yet they heard less as if their senses had been heightened in their sleep. Yuri was scolding Jiro, something about dawdling in here with the sleeping patient when there was work to be done.

"They had a reaction to the antivenom." Jiro explained, his voice coming closer. As usual his footfalls were shockingly quiet, and they would have never known he was coming near if he weren't speaking. They squinted into the strong lights, raising an arm to cover their face. "They're awake now, so I'll discharge them."

"Fine. But hurry up! You know what happens when you're late for your medicine, and I won't tolerate your complaints if you're the cause of your own delay!" Yuri stormed out, likely to prepare Jiro's medication, not even acknowledging them despite having had seen them out when they first checked in days prior.

Jiro, meanwhile, presented them with a light snack of crackers and a juice box. "I would recommend eating a meal and getting some rest once you get home. That sedative wasn't made for restful sleep."

They cleared their throat after taking a few sips of juice. "You said I had a reaction. . . ."

"Yes."

"What. . .happened. . .?"

"Increased temperature, heart rate, and respiration." Jiro explained, watching them eat.

"Did you do anything to stop them. . .?" They really wanted to ask if it was truly a product of the antivenom, but feared sounding accusatory over what was likely a dream.

"No. They weren't at a dangerous level. I just kept an eye on them so make sure they didn't get worse."

They nodded, sipping their juice again. "And the sedative can give you strange dreams? You said it isn't made for restful sleep. . . ."

"Your body is forced to sleep without your mind being put into a restful place first. It would be like falling asleep with something on your mind, making you more likely to dream about it. So, yes, that would likely be the case."

They heaved a somewhat disappointed sigh, tilting the last of their snack crackers into their mouth. "That's good, I think. . .I'm glad that's all that happened."

"If you say so."

That response felt off. Jiro took their trash and threw it away, fetching the wheelchair they were rolled in on to help them into it. He put a hand on their back, making them jump as they were gently pushed to the edge of the lowered bed to sit up.

"What do you mean? That's all that happened, isn't it?"

"It already happened." Jiro said dismissively, putting his hands under their arms to lift them up(again?) and sit them into the chair, not trusting their legs just yet. "I don't see a point in worrying what happened between your treatment and now."

The cursed inspector tried to formulate a response that could convince Jiro to share what he meant--even if all he said was that he had read a medical journal, or that he'd adjusted them in bed a few times--but knowing Jiro they couldn't think of a way to get him to talk. They squeezed their thighs together, feeling their genitals throb from the orgasm denial, the unfulfillment of their dream that might have been reality. But they were already back in the Mortkranken lobby, where Luca greeted them with a kind smile, approaching.

"Can you walk?" He asked as Jiro locked the chair. They set one leg on the floor and, though it felt heavy, they could definitely balance enough to get up and stumble over to Luca on wobbly legs before giving a weak nod. "I'm glad to hear it. It looks like you've recovered well. Are they clear to return home, Doctor Kirisaki?"

"Just Jiro is fine." Jiro looked them over once more. It was surely their imagination that his gaze lingered on their crotch--where they squeezed their thighs together tightly, remembering their dizzy dream and just how close his lips were before he pulled away--as opposed to their slightly wobbling legs. "They're a fall risk until they've had a meal and some rest. But they're safe for discharge."

A general Mortkranken student trotted up, offering the scholarship student their discharge paperwork and instructions, then collected the wheelchair for sensitization and storage once the papers were taken. They and Lucas thanked them kindly, and Jiro as well. He simply nodded in response, before they began to make their way out the door.

The cursed human took one final look back at Jiro, who simply tilted his head at them like so many of the cats around campus. Then he winced and turned away, stumbling towards the basement to receive his medication.

About two or three hours later, they received a WickChat message.

Jiro: You implied you experienced an odd dream as an effect of the sedative. This may also have been a yet unseen reaction between the sedative and the antivenom. Jiro: For the sake of proper documentation, would you be able to expound upon the dream at all? It's okay if you can't remember everything. Any details would be valuable to the understanding of anomalous medicine and its effects on humans and individuals afflicted by curses.

Their heart pounded. Telling Jiro what they dreamed of could be valuable information, but could they really bear the humiliation of it? Of explaining that they'd had a nearly wet dream about him, while he was in the room with them? Would Jiro even think anything of it, oblivious as he is to emotional matters?

Jiro: If it helps, a date for you to be sedated again could be arranged. You could be attached to a brain wave monitor, so your memory won't need to be relied upon. Jiro: Perhaps the dream will reoccur. I'll be sure to thoroughly extract something of value, so the experience isn't wasted.

Perhaps it was his use of 'thoroughly extracting value', but the thought crossed their mind that they hadn't been dreaming at all, and that Jiro mayhaps wanted to finish what he started. But it wouldn't make sense from the get go for it to have had been real. . . .

And yet they remembered Jiro's talk of prescribing death to others and dismissing ethics.

There was no point in discussing the ethics of something that had already been done, he said.

Perhaps some of the experience was real. He wouldn't have had been so cryptic about what had happened while they slept if nothing had occurred, would he?

Although, he was often cryptic about things, so perhaps that was merely coincidence and they were getting their hopes up--

Jiro: A prompt response would be appreciated. 'No' is an acceptable response, as well.

They scrambled to type a response, realizing they'd left him on read.

8636: I don't know how well I can recall. . . . 8636: I'm willing to be re-sedated, though! 8636: Before I agree to it, may I ask a potentially non-medical question? Jiro: I can't stop you from asking questions over WickChat. 8636: What happened while I was sedated today? After I was given the antivenom?

There was a pause, but no typing for a while. Then the general Mortkranken WickChat messaged them with appointment information.

8636: Jiro? Jiro: ? 8636: I didn't see a response, so I was just checking in. . . . Jiro: I didn't agree to answer the question.

A fair, if disappointing response.

Jiro: Just know I attempted to administer a holistic remedy to an unanticipated physiological response that arose during your treatment.

The response took a little longer to parse. As realization dawned on them, the next message came in.

Jiro: It didn't work as intended, as I'm not very experienced with such methods or concerns. Perhaps you noticed your continued affliction after discharge, and your discharge instructions. Jiro: Should the same issue arise, I've done more research.

They covered their face in embarrassment.  The discharge instruction "administer personal relief as needed" made much more sense now. They desperately hoped the Mortkranken student who handed them their discharge instructions hadn't read it first.

Accepting this explanation, they hastily sent an apology and threw themself down in bed, covering their face. Did they have to go to the appointment!? Jiro had only been trying to help them, albeit in an extremely questionable way. . .and somehow the thought that he had done more research to better serve the need in question. . .it was embarrassing, despite that they were the victim. They were able to excuse it, rationalizing that they were attracted to Jiro anyway and the idea alone felt exciting, but now walking into it as though it were any other medical procedure felt. . .insincere.

Resolving to perhaps cancel the appointment and try and get Jiro to have a talk with them about ethics, they dozed off, trying to ignore the returning heat and throbbing between their legs.

When they next awoke, it was to a small pinch, like the needles they'd recieved that day.

Just as had happened earlier, their strength was robbed from them nearly immediately, and they gasped as they felt a pair of lips on their chest, sucking at the nipple through their pajamas. A familiar large, heavy hand squeezed their other breast, twisting and tugging the nipple there.

"Not to worry." Jiro reassured through the gloom and the haze of sleep and strong sedatives. "Just like earlier, this is all a dream."

Limp in bed, a heavy doll for him to experiment on, what could they do but comply?

[zenzaaaaaaaaaaaa]

fantasy high junior year ep 1 liveblog

oh motherfucker i crashed into obsession with dimension 20 in a big way in a very short period of time. let's goooooooo

i find it hilarious that the loading time on dropout tanked right as it hit release time. i know you are all out there frantically hitting refresh

oh shit the content warning from neverafter narration ohohoho are we gonna have a fucked up season

!!!! i love the art style of the intro!!!! all fun sketchy!!!!! post it note graph paper lined paper crumply yes yes

i love lou's shirt so much. fun colors and mushrooms!

emily you are fair and valid but also that is the jankest setup for drinks ever. are you pouring hot drinks straight into a mason jar with no handle.

hand holding!! lil fingertip touchies. i feel like this will come back later and hurt me.

fantastic camera work and cinematography so far. somebody is working their ass off.

Oh lou has fun earrings! and his dead dad has a job in cleveland!

of course emily would play a wizard if fig died. you can rip her spell cards away from her cold dead hands and even then only if you could get past murph

night yorb. so stupid i love it.

gnome raised orc boy so upset about agricultural ramifications

I do love slow degradation apocalypse. a very fun concept. is the night yorb capitalism brennan. brennan you have to tell us if the night yorb is capitalism. are the yorbees elon musk fanboys.

oh i love the night yorb! i am a big fan of little fucked up goth creatures who communicate through screaming and incredible violence

I love the character profile screen! really leaning into the fun aesthetic

fig has defense mode and attack mode like crocs if her mini has a skateboard or not.

my boy gorgug! he is eating so much dust and making fun things these days

I do not trust squeem. squeem is going to go full calroy cruller. squeem who are you.

adaine just like me fr. covered in lil guys. she's a true wizard pondering orbs and summoning random shit for no particular reason.

boggy!! moggy!! i trust them and love them. rosamund du prix who. adaine abernant is the best disney princess

gorgug has a homunculus? what the hell is that

is. is baby driving. why is baby driving.

fabian is a callout post for me specifically. just because you learn to point your toes and flexibility to lift your leg into the air doesn't mean you have to do it all the time. it's just convenient. Also the haircut and the all black. fabian is just me with one less eye and much more charisma.

is he fucking the mirror? why is he fucking the mirror? fabian the mirror has to be evil. you only like people who are evil. oh he's fucking his own reflection. that's. that's. that's something.

Saint Kristen Applebees (ex-blanket burrito, current fitness buff, definitely not still upset about Tracker, 4 dexterity) sitting in the van like a normal person, not fucking mirrors

Riz! Riz! Riz! Oh thank god he's driving. With mage hand. He has to keep recasting it every minute but he's just extra like that

Rest easy y'all, he still has a stupid hat. it's just now a fedora. my condolences. counterpoint he is accessorizing and has a choker.

I love siobhan's massive folder of spell cards. she has her own spellbook

why are the two people safely inside the car the people that lost the most hp. fabian and kristen why are you exiled inside the van now

He has a necklace and choker? Riz as someone who accessorizes way too much you should have disadvantage on stealth from all that jangling

Riz driving the van with just a little more effort than a group of stoats

"so sexy inspector gadget"

they are going to fall over.

night yorb shittin sunday. it is fully wednesday but it is also night yorb shittin sunday

please fabian stop fucking the mirror

fabian last time you tried to leave a car it went so awfully

fabian it went so awfully. +13 to acrobatics for a 15 DC. this is deeply comical

"there is nothing magical about getting hit by a car"

lou got the murph curse

this is the Bad Kids experience. tables all over again. Imagine if the first thing lou did on his first turn of junior year was kill fabian

emily is raring at the bit to use silvery barbs. oh shit murph's got it too! power couple! they gave each other advantage

nat 20 dex save for a mod 16. no one is doing it like kristen applebees

fig don't huff night yorb shit.

riz needs to get vehicular manslaughter knuckle tattoos

oh cassandra i love you

portent rolls!!

gorgous

!!! the sound effect on the eldritch blast!!

squeem with some big fabian energy

gorgug does zelda know the complex relationship you have with squeem

gorgug is worried about the kelly blue book on his very heavily modified angelically possessed van

'the sunday scaries but you worked on the weekend'

"you started the season by getting run over. immediately."

night yorb shitting sunday once more

"ribbon dance this motherfucker!"

kristen is in her ricky matsui era

i trust no new characters they introduce now. that cowboy centaur with alcoholism and a rough family situation and the man he lets ride him are going to kill someone in this party i can feel it.

that fucking vulture

i love the bisexual lighting of this background

oo the glitter on the battle sheet on that mini rules

fabian no fabian don't fabian just stay on your motorcycle

oh thank fuck

actually no i'd prefer fabian to get crushed under the hangvan than to keep flirting with this fucking mirror. already broke up with aelwyn huh. probably for the best but really man don't fuck the mirror

balthazar is gone. but brennan very carefully didn't say dead so now i am very worried about us getting a cowboy space dead existentialism manifest destiny villain this season. and by very worried i mean hopeful

squeem

riz my dexterous son dodge that shit with 28+ rolls damn

cassandra you deserve the world. kristen please help a lady out. she's so lonely

murph's little beans!

oh we're getting in deep with the deep exhaustion of kids and teens forced to fight wars they were told would be good for them!!! my favorite!!!! i love this !!!!

what the fuck emily. uh. sour and curdled. is this ravening war again. is fig in deep with the cheese demons. fig is in deep with cheese demons. is she. is she the hungry one. is she with the hungry one now. what the fuck

well mark me down as scared and hungry

fabian stop flirting with the mirror.

oh shit there's a portal coming up next

oh no the van is going to die isn't it

duncan vs. plug debate on the economics of paying for blowjobs in the desert

[ravennm84]

Of Moldy Bread and Cockroaches

I’ve seen a few fics where Lila reports the bakery to the health department and then plants bad pastries and pests just as the inspector arrives and gets the bakery shut down. I started wondering, what would happen if she got caught doing that? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Lila kept watch as she waited for the health inspector to finally arrive. She had made multiple fake reports about the bakery over the past week to get someone to come out, but no one had come yet. And she had found the perfect spot to make sure she saw the man arrive, too! She was in disguise in the park, on a bench that had a clear view of the bakery entrance, the side entrance that went to the Dupain-Cheng home, and still let her stay hidden. She didn’t have to worry about school at the moment since her stupid class and teacher thought she was visiting the royal family in Spain, and her gullible mother thought school was out for another akuma attack. Both of which gave her an alibi so no one would suspect her when Maribrat and her goody-goody parents were humiliated and lose everything.

She was almost too distracted by her daydream of Marinette crying and homeless to see a very professional looking man step out of a taxi in front of the bakery. He looked at the display with a very critical eye before writing some things down on his tablet. That had to be the health inspector she had been waiting for. Once she saw him entering the front, Lila hot footed it to the side entrance to sneak in. 

The door was locked, but she had come prepared with a lockpick set she had gotten a couple years ago. It was really too easy to get inside. In fact, it had been much harder to get the fake evidence she would need to shut the place down. She discovered while going through the dumpster for old pastries that the bakery didn’t throw away much of anything. They sold out most of the time, and the things that didn’t were donated to a local homeless shelter. It took three days of dumpster diving to find anything, which ended up being a single batch of croissants that had burned in the oven. Heck, collecting some cockroaches from a restaurant dumpster down the street had been easier; albet, a lot more disgusting.

Once inside, Lila crept towards the door as she heard Mme. Cheng speaking to the man. He was, in fact, the health inspector. A malicious grin stretched across her face as she put the first moldy croissant on the counter next to the-

“What are you doing here?” A deep voice growled behind her.

Lila froze for a moment, suddenly realizing that she had heard Mme. Cheng speaking with the inspector, but not M. Dupain. She couldn’t let herself get caught! She was facing away from him and he hadn’t seen her face yet, so there was still a chance. Grabbing the first thing she could, she didn’t even look to see what it was, she swung it around at the towering man before trying to run past him. 

Despite hearing him curse in pain, Lila didn’t make it two steps before the man grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and lifted her off of the ground. She swung her object at him again, only for the enraged man to grab her wrist and twist, forcing her to drop it with a shout as it clanged to the floor. 

The noise drew Sabine and the inspector to the back where they say Tom holding Lila off the ground. Furious and still trying to escape, she tried kicking at him only for him to release her wrist, grab her ankle, and then release her jacket so she was hanging upside down. More items hit the floor as her hat fell off, a couple of croissants and the tupperware container of cockroaches fell from her pockets, and landed next to a bloody knife…

Uh-oh.

Looking up, she saw that his right arm was bleeding from where she had slashed him with the knife, which had her fingerprints all over it. She was going to be in so much trouble unless she could think of a way out of this!

“What happened, Tom?” Sabine asked, worried when she saw her husband’s bleeding arm and was slightly confused by the girl hanging upside-down in their kitchen. It took a moment before she seemed to recognize Lila as the girl that had gotten her daughter expelled a few weeks before.

“I was coming down to meet Inspector LaStare with you and caught this girl putting bad pastries with the others.” 

“That’s not it!” Lila yelled in a panic and she wiggled in his grip, resembling a fish on a hook. “I-I-I was- I was getting rid of them! I was taking them off the counter to throw them away!”

“And your container of cockroaches?” Asked Sabine, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring dubiously at the girl.

“Those aren’t mine! I swear! If you would just let me explain-”

“I’ve already heard enough to recognize your voice, young lady,” the inspector snapped as he stepped closer to glare at Lila. “I bet you weren’t paying attention when you called the health department all those times and the recording told you that your call would be monitored and recorded. And when a single business gets over twenty complaints in less than a week, it gets some attention. But when we listen to the recordings and hear the same voice for every message, we figure it’s someone with a vendetta against the establishment. Still, we do our do-diligence and inspect the establishment, but I had no idea how stupid a person would be to attempt to plant fake evidence while I was here, in full view of the security cameras.”

She couldn’t help her surprised gasp as she, while still hanging upside down in the hulking baker’s grip, looked around the kitchen ceiling until her eyes landed on the cameras. One pointed at the side door she had picked open and the other pointed at the counter where she had put the moldy pastry.

Sabine leaned in close, glaring straight into Lila’s upside-down eyes. “Young lady, what is your mother’s phone number?” It was clear that it was more of a demand than a question, but she was still trying to think of a way out of trouble before Sabine grabbed her face and forced Lila to look at her. “You can either tell me her number now, or you can tell the police so she can go pick you up at the station while they tell her all the crimes you’re being charged with.”

Angry at being caught and forced to call her mother, Lila thought of what she could do as she tried to look and sound pitiful as she recited her mother’s number. Not difficult since she was red-faced from hanging upside-down for so long. She might not be able to get out of trouble, but she’d be damned if they didn’t pay for humiliating her.

After Sabine stepped into the front of the bakery to make the call, Lila tearfully looked up at Tom. “Can you please put me down? I’m getting really dizzy.”

She could tell that the man was tempted to drop her on her head, but he was too much of a goody-goody like his daughter and he eased her gently to the floor. As soon as he let go of her ankle, Lila’s uninjured hand snapped out and grabbed the tupperware of cockroaches, ripped off the lid, and flung the insects across the floor. 

Tom and Inspector LaStare yelled in surprise and disgust as Lila attempted to escape, this time running for the front of the bakery. She actually made it out of the kitchen, but ended up face to face with Sabine. Without a word, the woman grabbed Lila’s by the arm, flipped her over her shoulder to the floor, and twisted her arm to where she couldn’t move.

“Are you okay, Tom?” Sabine called, her voice eerily calm to Lila’s ears.

“She flung those cockroaches across the kitchen! They’re everywhere!” Tom yelled as he and the inspector scrambled to try and kill or capture the insects.

“I’ve already called her mother and the police, they’ll be here any minute.”

Lila’s struggles doubled when she heard that. “You said you wouldn’t call the police if I gave you my mom’s number!”

Sabine merely twisted the girl’s arm a little more, halting her struggles rather than letting her arm break. “I said no such thing. I only said you could choose whether to talk to your mother here or at the police station. And I promise you, young lady, your mother is going to hear everything you’ve been up to. Including what you’ve been doing Marinette.”

~oOo~

The fallout had been epic after the police and Lila’s mother arrived at the bakery. 

Greta Rossi had been in denial at first, not wanting to think that her daughter was capable of such terrible behavior. But it was hard to argue with the video evidence and eyewitness accounts of Lila attempting to plant moldy pastries, vindictively releasing the cockroaches in the kitchen, or attacking Tom Dupain with a knife, which would require stitches. 

It got even worse when school let out for lunch and the majority of Lila’s classmates came rushing over when they saw the police and ambulance at the bakery. Mme. Rossi had asked them why they were all out when there was an akuma on the loose. The class asked her why they were back in Paris since she was supposed to be in a meeting with the royal family of Spain. It became apparent after a few more minutes of back and forth that Lila had been lying for the entire time they’d been in France and Greta would have to meet with M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier soon about her daughter’s absences and failure to contact her.

When the police were placing handcuffs on Lila, she started shrieking. “You can’t do this to me! I have diplomatic immunity! Let me go or I’ll get you fired and Italy will invade France for what you’re doing to me!”

“Wrong!” Greta spoke over Lila as she approached her daughter. “I’m a secretary at the embassy, not a diplomat. Only I have immunity, you don’t. I was lucky to even be able to bring you on assignment rather than leave you with your Zio and Zia in Italy. But I see that was a mistake, and now both of us will have to pay for that mistake!”

Lila continued to shriek and curse as she was forced into the back of the police cruiser and taken to the police station. 

In the end; Lila was charged with corporate sabotage, breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon, and slander by Tom and Sabine. She was also charged for truancy, forgery, bullying, slander, and cyber bullying for what she’d done to Marinette at school. Lila’s mother was forced to pay for an exterminator to take care of the cockroaches, as well as all of the supplies and pastries that had been at the bakery and had to be thrown out due to the infestation that Lila had attempted to cause. But the worst was having to pay restitution for the time the bakery was closed. Turns out, Tom and Sabine’s bakery really was the top bakery in Paris and had the receipts to prove it.

There had been some worry that the temporary shutdown would hurt the bakery’s reputation, but Inspector LaStare, with the help of Nadja Chamack, had seen to it that none of the problems would blow back on the Dupain-Chengs. Inspector LaStare had gone on record stating that it was a rare occasion where an establishment was completely innocent of the accusations brought against it, but this was one of those times. He then showed footage of Lila planting the moldy pastry, assaulting Tom with the knife, and flinging the bugs into the kitchen before attempting to escape. He also stated that he was personally working with the Dupain-Chengs to make sure that the bakery was up to code and open as soon as possible so all of Paris could get back to enjoying their favorite pastries.

Viewers all over Paris were appalled at the actions of the teenage girl,discovering her vendetta was against Marinette since she knew about Lila’s lies. While laughing at her as they watched Tom hold her upside-down by her leg and Sabine flip the fleeing girl over her shoulder via security footage. The footage ended up being shared by people all over YouTube and gained millions of views, showing their support for the Dupain-Chengs and humiliating Lila on a now global level.

There was also sympathy towards Marinette and outrage towards the Francois Dupont administration when Nadja reported how Lila had also been bullying Marinette without receiving any help from the school. This would result in both Damocles and Bustier being suspended from their jobs until they completed training in regards to handling bullies.

With all the publicity against Lila Rossi, Gabriel Agreste had been left in a difficult position since Lila had only recently been named a new spokesmodel for his brand. Adrien, however, offered a solution to save face and help the brand in the future. So, when Nadja was doing a followup on the story the following week, Gabriel did a video interview where he very publicly announced Lila’s termination from the company for her actions and announced that he had offered Marinette an internship and a scholarship to the fashion university of her choice, so long as she was accepted. This caused a slew of universities to scout Marinette themselves, as it wasn’t every day a fashion mogul does a public shout out to a girl in college. And just like that, sales and public opinion of the Agreste brand went up.

Lila watched all of this unfold from her prison cell outside of Paris. She had been tried as an adult and was caught committing perjury during her trial, which prompted the judge to give her the maximum sentence for her crimes. She couldn’t even enjoy the pleasure of being akumatized anymore since she was so far out of the city. All she could do was sit in her cell eating moldy bread with cockroaches as her only friends as she sulked on the fact that she had failed, and the entire world was laughing at her.

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld  @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @ladylupuscrow @maskedpainter @miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @pandora-fucking-box @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance

[thewritetofreespeech]

Psycho Pass [Relationship Headcanons]

prompt: I fell back in the Psycho Pass hole and there’s not content like this out there for the series. which is a shame

Kougami

Not looking for love and wouldn’t know where to find it

He’s so consumed with his work that he very rarely pops his head up for anything else

Plus, given his line of work, and what’s happened to the people he’s cared about in the past, Kougami doesn’t want to get anyone involved lest they get hurt

It would take something big, like them getting hurt and nearly dying, for him to confess. Realizing that they could die without him ever telling them how he feels

If he gets hurt that’s just further proof that he would be a curse on whoever he’s with so it has to be the other way around

Extremely protective of who he’s with. To the point that they have to be on another team during missions because his protectiveness almost gets in the way

Insists on training with them. He wants to make sure they can protect themselves when he’s not around. Also: hot

Not the most affectionate person

Talking about things makes him unfortunately. And being physical with someone is not something he’s used to, being locked away for so long

Gets over the former pretty quickly when he realizes hugs, snuggling, and head scratches are the best. Yes I just equated Kou-kun to a big dog. No take backs.

The communication thing he’ll have to work on. But does because he knows it’s important for a relationship. Slow road going.

Tries to do romantic things like shopping or trying to make them dinner, with disastrous results

Would much prefer sitting together in silence reading and ordering in. That’s his favorite thing.

Gino (Inspector)

Tries to ignore his feelings for you

Emotions are the rampant weapon of the weak. Logic is the only thing that prevails

When ‘logicing’ the problem away doesn’t work, he becomes flustered

Being around you causes him to fidget and be on edge. Which causes his hue to cloud with conflict

Gino, being a smart man, knows that the only logical solution to clearing his hue, and the situation, is to be honest with you

Shocked, honestly, when you reciprocate his feelings. Given his life, he never thought this would happen

Sure he would die alone at his desk one day

When you’re dating, he takes great stride to be very ‘by the book’ with your relationship

Alerts HR. No PDA or workplace favoritism. Keeps your personal & professional lives separate

This also translates into your relationship off-duty

Every milestone (holding hands, first kiss, staying over, staying over) is all done to a strict regimented timeline in Gino’s mind of what’s appropriate

He does it partly because he wants to follow ‘the rules’ of a relationship, but also because he cherishes you

He doesn’t want to disrespect or insult you in anyway. Taking his time is a part of that. Even if you’re begging him to speed things up a little more.

Keeps a photo of you on his desk, should you transfer or go away for a long while, so he can still see you everyday at work

Gino (Enforcer)

Unlike his Inspector self, Enforcer Gino gives no fucks

What does he have to lose? Literally

The death that has surrounded his life has made him realize that it’s too short

But on the other hand, it makes him very cautious about entering a relationship. His work is dangerous.

Once he’s confirmed that this isn’t a phase, or some adrenaline dazed delirium, he would tell you honestly

Win, loose, or draw, at least he was honest with the people he cared about. For once

Overjoyed, but keeps it to himself, when you share his feelings

Maybe this is a second chance he never thought he would get.....

Very much like his ‘Inspector self’, Gino will always do everything in his power to not have you disrespected or insulted in anyway

Your precious to him. And he treats you like it

More psychical with his affection than his Inspector self

Still not nearly as much as the others, but certainly more light touches, soft kisses, and sitting a little too close together at work or in public

Wants you to marry you, but knows that since he’s a latent criminal that’s impossible for him. Still gives you a ring to wear as a symbol.

Loves that Dime is a fan of yours, but also secretly jealous at how he perks up so much when you come around.

Sugo 

A true romantic

Life without hoping for love or happiness is no life at all

Being an earnest man, he would tell you almost immediately that he has feelings for you

But, in private. He’s not an idiot.

Should you accept his feelings, Sugo would be over the moon

Keeps your professional life still professional. But in private he’s extremely affectionate and doting.

Wants to know everything about your life and your day

Hopes he can one day share the darker parts of his with you

Trust and loyalty are a big thing for him. He’ll never stray, and always keep your confidence when you ask

Very protective of his s/o. To the point of sacrificing his own safety for you.

Except a lot of first aid time as he does this a lot for people. However, he has been better about throwing his life away since he has you now.

Remembers every birthday, anniversary, or holiday and makes a point of celebrating it

Gives extremely thoughtful, well selected presents. It pays to pay attention

If you spend the night, he likes to be the big spoon

Shusei

Gets a crush on every cute person he sees. This is just the one that stuck.

Hovers around you like a moth to a flame. Wants to be in your personal space all the time.

Brings you cute little presents all the time. Mostly small; like the cherry off his sundae in the cafeteria.  But when he’s let out he always brings you back a souvenir.

If you did reciprocate his feelings, his attitude would change a little

He’d become more shy and flustered at first. He never thought this would actually work out.

Over it pretty quick though. Ya boy bounces back quick.

Back to being in your personal space all the time. Only +10 because now he knows you like it

Video game dates! Either in the analog game room or in his dorm.

Second to that is movie night date. Huge cinephile. Just no tearjerkers because he can’t cry manly. 

Wants to cook for you all the time. One to make sure you’re eating, but two (and more importantly) to show off

Becomes a super cuddle monster when he’s drinking. Will practically sit in your lap.

Likes to do his s/o’s hair. Brushing it, styling it, playing with it. It’s just a thing he likes to do

Hates it if/when you have to go back to your dorm room. He’s always hated being alone, but especially now

[witches-and-cows]

a symphony

pairing: alec hardy / gn!reader

requested? nawr

synopsis: alec hardy never thought he'd find someone that takes his sad little song, and makes it better.

warnings: cursing, sad fluff, gender-neutral!reader, based on 'i hear a symphony' by cody fry

a/n: i really do love this man pls

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

he was falling in love again.

he came to this realization as he watched you swing your hips to the upbeat pop nonsense playing from your little bluetooth radio. he was sat at the little two person table by the window, holding a warm cup of tea in his hands, trying to ignore the rain outside.

he didn't know how to feel about it; on the one hand, it was exhilarating, feeling his stomach come alive with butterflies when you came near, or how his cheeks heated up when you said something naughty.

but it was scary, too. he didn't like the idea of feeling so strongly for another person after tess; she had said he was perfect, and still found a way to cheat. what if you did the same? what if he wasn't good enough for anyone? what if--

"what's going on in that head of yours, alec?"

you sat across from the jaded detective inspector, your eyes soft and holding his gaze steadily.

he shook his head, turning to the window. the rain had only gotten harder in the few minutes the two of you held that intimate eye contact.

"nothing, darling. just thinking."

"you do that a lot, alec. you want to talk about it?"

he shook his head again, sighing softly. you tilted your head, clutching your own mug of [hot beverage]. "then i'll talk, if that's okay with you."

he motioned for you to go on.

"you...alec you bring out this song in my heart. a song that used to be sad little piano notes that would occasionally 'ding' on a one off date. this song had no rhythm, no real tune. no feeling in it.

but you came up to me on that unusually cold summer day, holding that little coffee cup in those big ass hands,"

he gave a chuckle at that as he remembered. the cup had been comically small in his hands as he handed it to you.

"and you asked me out, all apprehensive and shit. and it felt...it felt good. good to know not everyone had this unnecessary swagger about them, this unrealistic confidence. so i said yes; and my heart, that sad little simple song, it fucking......swelled into this big symphony. it felt so good.

it grew louder as you stuttered and stumbled through our dates, as you walked me to my door, and kissed me on our third date. you were so nervous, love. it was endearing."

he felt his eyes well up as you took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together.

"you took this little song, and single handedly turned it into this....symphony over the course of three dates."

alec had tears running down his face as you finished your monologue, his body heaving with the force of his sobs.

you stood, motioning for him to do the same. he wrapped his arms around you, melting into your embrace. you sniffled softly as he buried his head into your shoulder. "i love you so much, alec." you whispered, as he mumbled a small, "i love you, too."

and he felt it. he felt his little song swell into so much more

---------

oh yeah, i did cry with this one

[contemplativepancakes]

something to prove

for the lovely @witcher-and-his-bard's birthday!! happy birthday, alex! hope you had a great day <3

2k, explicit pwp, Geralt x Eskel x Jaskier

on ao3 here

Eskel grunts as he pounds the dough against the floured counter, Jaskier looking on from his spot on the stool. “You could help, you know.”

Jaskier grins at him. “And miss out on such a lovely view?”

Eskel glares as he mounds the dough back to a ball and punches it down.

“Do you know there are better ways to work out aggression?”

When Eskel glances back up, Jaskier is giving him a sly grin. “That sounds like a health code violation,” he says dryly, putting his ball of dough into a bowl to proof again.

Jaskier slides off his stool and walks over to wrap his arms around Eskel. Eskel leans back into the embrace, shaking his head and biting back his fond smile when Jaskier grinds against his ass. “Jaskier,” he growls in warning.

“What?”

Eskel rolls his eyes. “Don’t act so innocent.”

Jaskier moves his hands down, until they’re pressing right against Eskel’s crotch. Eskel tears off a sheet of plastic wrap to put over his bowl of dough, cursing when the wrap clings to itself. He fumbles with it, trying to peel it apart with clumsy fingers.

Jaskier’s fingers find the button of Eskel’s jeans under his apron and unzips them in a sound that echos in Eskel’s ears. Eskel gives up all pretenses of trying to finish his dough and squirms around in Jaskier’s grip to capture his lips in a messy kiss, hot breath intermingling. Jaskier tastes like he’s been eating the cookies Eskel explicitly told him not to, and he bites Jaskier’s lower lip in retaliation.

Jaskier shoves his hand down Eskel’s boxers, and Eskel lets out a sharp breath at the feeling of a hand other than his own on himself. Jaskier pulls back. “You’ve been so busy lately. How am I supposed to cope all by my little lonesome?”

Eskel mouths at his neck. “I think you find plenty of ways to manage. Geralt, for one.”

Jaskier pouts. “Geralt’s never as nice to me as you are.”

Eskel doubts that. Jaskier has Geralt wrapped around his pinkie, but the words get lost as Jaskier tightens his grip on Eskel’s cock and starts to move his hand in long, torturous strokes. He stops briefly to lick the palm of his hand, before starting again until Eskel is fully hard. Eskel tries to twist to get a grip on Jaskier, but he turns out of reach. “I want to take care of you,” he says, slinging his free arm around Eskel’s neck.

Eskel lets him, leaning back against the counter as Jaskier slowly jacks him, trying not to let his mind drift to how he’s going to have to clean the kitchen after this just yet. His hand finds a pile of flour, and he curses as he rips it away from the counter, finding a new spot on Jaskier’s hip. He shifts it down, appreciating the white handprint on Jaskier that marks him as Eskel’s.

Eskel tips his head back, and Jaskier moves closer, lathing his tongue up Eskel’s neck until landing on the bolt of his jaw and focusing his attention there. Eskel’s eyes shut, his arms wrapping around Jaskier’s waist as his steady rhythm brings him closer to the edge.

There’s a swishing sound, and a sharp intake of breath, and Eskel cracks an eye open to see Geralt has just pushed through the swinging doors. His cock throbs painfully, and Jaskier draws back, squeezing around the base. The pressure against Eskel’s chest disappears, Jaskier giving Geralt a sly grin.

“Really? In my kitchen?” Geralt grunts.

Jaskier flutters his lashes. “Why? Would you like to join?”

“Someone is going to report me to the health inspector.”

“Well, if you’re going to be all grumpy about it, maybe I’ll just make you watch.”

By the deer in the headlights look Geralt gives that, Eskel assumes Geralt would like that very much, and his cock aches when the pressure leaves it as Jaskier walks away to drag a stool closer to them.

Eskel stares, not moving, as Jaskier draws Geralt into a long, lingering kiss. When he pulls away, Jaskier pushes Geralt down to the chair. “Don’t touch yourself until I say so,” he says severely, and then Jaskier’s instrument calloused fingers are back on Eskel’s cock. He brings Eskel right up to the edge, and Eskel keens when Jaskier’s touch leaves him, flitting back to Geralt as he tugs him off his chair. Jaskier’s still completely clothed and barely ruffled as he fishes through his bag for the lube that Eskel knows he carries around with him.

“Touch yourself,” Jaskier directs Eskel, then to Geralt, “Bend over.”

Geralt looks at Jaskier with wide eyes, his gaze dragging to where Eskel’s hand is moving underneath his green apron, a growing wet spot on the front.

Jaskier comes behind Geralt and prods him until his elbows are on the counter. “I feel like I’m getting a prostate exam,” Geralt complains, and Eskel snickers.

“Aren’t you?”

Jaskier pulls Geralt’s pants and boxer briefs down to his thighs, then his ankles, and Geralt steps out of them. Eskel’s eyes flutter shut at the thought of someone walking in and seeing them like this, Eskel’s tent and growing wet spot on the front of his apron, and Geralt naked from the waist down. When Eskel opens his eyes again, it’s to Jaskier shoving two fingers into Geralt’s hole.

“Getting it ready for you,” Jaskier says, and Eskel can’t hold back his moan any longer. The warmth of his rough hand against his cock and the sight in front of him is too much. Jaskier nudges Geralt’s legs further apart, and then gestures Eskel to them. He wipes his fingers on Eskel’s apron before taking it off him, hanging it on a hook by the door.

Eskel frowns, but Jaskier is anticipating it. “Yes, yes, I’ll wash it for you later.”

His hands come up to let down Eskel’s hair from its bun, the coarse strands falling down around his face as Jaskier twirls one around his finger. “So handsome,” he whispers, before wrapping his arms around Eskel and pulling him into a heated kiss.

When they finally pull away from each other, Geralt hasn’t moved, still leaned over the stainless steel countertop, his sack hanging heavy beneath him. “What a good boy,” Jaskier says, ghosting his fingers over Geralt’s ass and slipping under his shirt and up his back.

Jaskier takes the bottle of lube again and squeezes it onto his hand, slicking Eskel’s cock while. he sucks with a bruising intensity on Eskel’s neck, making him shiver.

There’s a smack, and Eskel opens his eyes to see a faint pink on Geralt’s ass. “No touching,” Jaskier says lightly, and Geralt whines.

Jaskier huffs. “Fine, fine. Impatient much?”

Jaskier takes his fingers away from Eskel. He’s positively dripping by now, precome and lube falling in drops to the floor. Jaskier gestures at him, and Eskel situates his hands around geralt’s waist, his thumbs digging in.

Eskel’s cockhead nudges against Geralt’s hole, pressing in slowly as Geralt hisses. He gives Geralt time to adjust, focusing on not coming right then and there. Eskel looks down at where Geralt is stretched perfectly around him, tight and warm.

Geralt starts to reach forward to himself, but Eskel takes both of his wrists and holds them behind his back. He leans forward, his lips tickling Geralt’s ear as he says, “Don’t you think you can come just from my cock?”

A strangled noise is wrenched out of Geralt at that, and Eskel looks away to see Jaskier, with his pants finally undone and leaning against the counter as he strokes himself. “Hey, let’s keep the show going,” Jaskier says at Eskel’s pause, waving his hand.

Eskel nuzzles his nose against Geralt’s neck, finally starting to move. He bites his lip to stave off his orgasm, determined to make Geralt come first. His grip on Geralt’s wrist tightens, his fingers leaving red marks behind. Geralt shudders as Eskel finds his prostate, and Eskel adjusts the angle of his hips so he can keep hitting that spot, snapping his hips back and forth. The slap of skin echos in the small room, combined with the wet sounds of Jaskier jerking himself and making breathy noises.

Eskel looks away to hide his small smile at Jaskier, always a performer at heart. He looks back and winks at him. “You’re not too bad of a show yourself.”

Jaskier moves forward at this, draping his arms around Eskel’s neck and grinding against his ass. His cock slips between Eskel’s thighs, and Eskel lets Jaskier fuck him there, fluttering his eyes shut at the feeling of Jaskier’s cock sliding between his thighs and against his perineum and sack. It’s awkward for a moment, both of them moving at once, but they find their rhythm soon enough.

Jaskier tweaks Eskel’s nipples before his hands slide away, his fingers coming to prod at Eskel’s hole, slipping a finger tip in. Eskel bites down on the junction of Geralt’s shoulder and neck before drawing back and lathing over it with his tongue. He keeps brushing past Geralt’s prostate until Geralt is a whimpering mess beneath him.

He looks like a picture with his face flushed and his hair in disarray, and Eskel is tempted to touch his cock, but it’s so much better like this, with Geralt panting, open mouthed and desperate for them. Eskel’s lip is nearly bloody from how hard he’s biting it to keep himself from coming.

Jaskier nibbles at Eskel’s ear, and finally, Geralt is crying out, clenching around Eskel as he comes, his cheek pressed against the cool stainless steel table.

It’s obscene, really.

Eskel thrusts a few more times before he lets himself follow Geralt off the edge, spilling into him. Jaskier stops fucking Eskel’s thighs and starts stripping his own cock, his gasps getting progressively louder until there’s a warmth painting Eskel’s thighs. Eskel slips out of Geralt, his come dripping out sluggishly behind him, and Eskel watches it, transfixed.

His eyes slide to the mark he left on Geralt’s neck. In the polished metal he can see the white flour handprint on Jaskier’s ass, and the mark Jaskier left on him. It makes him feel something he doesn’t want to examine too closely.

Geralt stays in his position, trying to catch his breath as Eskel strokes up and down his back. Jaskier disappears and returns with a wet wipe, using it on the back of Eskel’s thighs before handing it to Eskel to perfunctorily clean Geralt up.

Eskel pulls Geralt up from the table and kisses him hungrily, his hand reaching back to squeeze Geralt’s ass. Geralt swats his hand away and bites Eskel’s lip, Eskel’s signal to let Jaskier have his turn.

“Not enough kissing for your taste?” Jaskier asks in amusement, zipping up his pants and looking entirely too unaffected by the whole thing.

“No.”

Geralt finds his pants in a puddle on the floor, and Eskel tucks himself back into his boxers, zipping up his jeans. He doesn’t even want to look at his apron.

Geralt starts scrubbing at the counter, and Eskel throws a towel at Jaskier. “Help with the mess you made.”

Jaskier pats Eskel on the ass and takes a seat back on his stool. “Why would I when the view is so much nicer from here?”

Eskel shares an exasperated look with Geralt, but fond smiles twist their lips.

The clean up is worth it.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Chapter 1

WC: 5233

Post-apocalyptic drama: A woman wakes up with no memory after an apocalyptic storm devastates the country. With everyone starting over and finding a new way of life, she is assigned to lead one of the rebuilding programs. The agriculture-based neighborhood is running smoothly until a stranger shows up, the first outsider in over a year.

CW: stranger, unconscious, blood, amnesia, referencing past head injury

I cradle my warm mug closer and survey the room, still feeling far from sleep. I went to bed early, too early, when the sky darkened prematurely because of the rainstorm. The weather pulled my focus away from work to watch the wind wrestle with the trees at the edge of the yard, testing the strength of their branches, threatening to splinter them to pieces. When the rain started, steadily pouring down in constant streams of water without any distinction between drops, the view was obstructed. Now the rain will fall for days and with the wind, we’re all confined to our houses, so I had gone up to bed since I’d have no shortage of time to finish work tomorrow. Everyone says the rain changed after the Storm, but this is all I can remember, anyway. 

The rain is still thundering down onto the roof. I don’t even know what woke me—it’s impossible to hear any of the normal creaks and aches of the house breathing on its own over the weather. I came downstairs to make tea, more for the ritual than the tea itself, something I do almost nightly. The methodical steps are enough of a reset that I fall asleep before my tea is cool enough for a full sip. Tonight, it’s less comforting. Adrenaline still courses through my veins from startling awake. There is no reason to feel shaken. I must have had an unsettling dream that I can’t remember. The thought of lying down in the dark and facing emptiness makes my pulse speed up again. I focus on inhaling and exhaling smoothly, commanding my heart to slow down to a regular rhythm, filling my lungs with the aroma of the chamomile blossoms bobbing to the surface in the strainer. I make my way across the open living space toward the stairs, allowing myself to stall by inspecting the way everything looks different from last night when there were visible stars and a moon. 

The house—my house—looks almost exactly like it did the day I arrived. I run my hand along the back of the creased, brown leather sofa in the middle of the room. It’s worn more on the right side, across from the ring on the coffee table and beside the lamp. It faces a bookcase of hardcovers standing in dignified lines despite the scuffs on the spines and the dogeared pages hidden from view. The warm wood of the built-in shelves meets the slated fireplace, the focal point of the whole floor. There’s no television, so whoever lived here must have read instead. I’ve tried thumbing through the pages of the books to fill my free time but can never seem to get through more than a few lines. There’s the solid oak dining table anchoring the back of the room in front of the picture windows with chairs for eight, another mark of the previous owners. 

I’ve never once had a personal guest but the house hasn’t felt empty, despite its size and living alone. Even now, on a stormy night, despite every line and angle extended, making it seem endless, it doesn’t feel jarringly vacant. Darkness swallows the corners of the room and deepens the shadows under the furniture but instead of making me rush for the light switch, I want to let my eyes dance over the impossible-to-see details. I have them all memorized anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s too dark to see. I let my eyes trace the silhouettes of the space once more time before forcing myself to climb back up to bed. 

My foot is on the first step when I see it. Almost obscured by the staircase, a shadow passes in front of the window at the back of the house. I freeze. I can barely see anything through the rain but I know something is out there. My heart is sprinting in my chest as I move back into the room. I don’t want to imagine the emergency that would have a neighbor coming to me through this weather. The figure passes by the last window in the room on the way to the back door of the garage but pauses. I hold my breath, wondering if they can see me through the rain into the dark house. My eyes trace over the shape of their shoulders, inclined head, and clenched fists. They stagger a few steps forward before collapsing onto the grass. Before I have time to think, I react.

I drop the scalding tea, which pours down my leg as it falls, mug saved by the thick, wool area rug. I don’t even register the heat against my skin as I sprint across the house to run out the back door of the garage. The rain and wind rush to beat against me as I step outside. I blink furiously to see through the sheets of water. It’s immediately like I’ve been submerged. Everyone is right that it rains harder now, which is why the Program advises against going outside during any bad weather. This is more like a hurricane hitting away from the coast. We’ll spend the few days after picking up debris, branches and clearing fallen trees. Luckily, it’s not freezing rain like we had all winter. Pools swell around my bare feet with each running step I take through the sodden lawn, splattering mud up from the ground. I reach my destination after a few strides and mentally thank my frequent runs for my speed. 

Whoever it is, lies facedown in the grass so I grab a shoulder to roll the person over. He’s out cold, with mud from the wet ground covering half his face. I fight the urge to pause and identify him because somehow it is raining even harder. I’m almost certain he isn’t one of my neighbors. I crouch down, grab both of his arms and do my best to roll him onto my back so that I can half-drag him across the lawn. It's easier than I expected. Maybe the wet grass is helping his limp legs slide behind me. We make it to the back door and I pause for a moment as reality hits me. I’m about to bring an unconscious stranger into my house. There’s no telling where he came from or why he is here. I try to remember the instructions Inspectors have told me about handling trespassers. 

Something moves on my back and I realize the stranger has turned his head. I’ve been standing here, half-carrying him. It would be irresponsible to try to walk to anyone else’s house in this weather, especially dragging someone. I clench my teeth and pull him up the two steps into the garage and through the hallway. I manage to almost gracefully deposit him on the sofa, leaving streaks of mud across the wood floors. My feet nearly slide out from under me as I run back to lock the doors. For good measure, I close all the curtains before turning on the floor lamp beside the couch. 

I start to look him over for injuries, checking his head first. I don’t see or feel anything under his dark hair. I use my sleeve to wipe away some of the mud on his face. He has symmetrical features, rough, dark stubble, and light-brown skin. I am noticing the long, dark lashes on his closed eyelids when he exhales a sigh. I jump, feeling my face grow hot. I direct my attention away from his face and wind up cursing myself for not noticing his torn pant leg earlier. I pull back the shredded fabric and suck in a breath. He has a long, deep gash, caked with mud that is still bleeding. I fly upstairs to find the medical bag and some towels. 

My mind is spinning but somehow, my hands are steady. I clean the wound and apply pressure to stop the bleeding. The minutes pass quickly. The counting gives me something to focus on aside from wondering what happened to cause this. I match my breaths to the rhythm and feel more centered. My fingers have no problem managing the needle holder and I lose myself in the steady progress of suturing. I’m nearly finished when the stranger sighs again. I pause to look at his face and notice a subtle upturn at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t wake up but my pulse quickens anyway. I look back down and try to focus. I could lose my job for not following protocol by bringing him into my house, but it only seems responsible to give him first-aid so he doesn’t bleed out. I can turn him in when he wakes up. 

After I finish the stitches, I disinfect it again, apply antibiotic ointment, and tape a sterile gauze bandage over the wound. I clean up all the rain, mud, and blood that we tracked into the house as best as I can, constantly checking to see if the stranger has moved. He sleeps quietly, breathing steadily and looking peaceful. I pick up the mug I dropped earlier and soak up the tea from the carpet. My clothes are still wet so I rush upstairs to change but skip taking a shower, more afraid of the stranger disappearing without an explanation than of any other possibility. Back downstairs, I make myself a replacement cup of tea and settle into the armchair to wait.

I distract myself by thinking about the fields, hoping as usual that the trenches we dug around them for this kind of weather, will be deep enough. We’ve never had a problem before but I can’t help but worry, after all, it is our food source. We are fairly self-sufficient at this point, almost one year in and I don’t want that to change. The Programs started six months after the Storm. They still don’t know how much of the population was lost during the Storm or in the aftermath. Sometimes I hear my neighbors debating it while they work, with guesses ranging from seventy to ninety percent lost, but no one knows for sure. I was in the hospital but others were in shelters, waiting, while plans were made to organize people into homes and communities. Anyone highly skilled was employed as a Programmer. Geologists, engineers, and other specialists identified areas with enough undamaged houses and clear land to use productively. They wrote a Program for each location based on what they would be able to do to survive. Then it was a simple matter of assigning survivors to the empty houses to fill all of the jobs required to make the Program viable. 

Programmers said the fact that I was unattached would help me be a more objective leader. It’s a ridiculous assessment of my situation and there were plenty of others who were also solo, but I didn’t argue. I was pretty objective until tonight’s lapse in judgment. The rest of the residents keep their distance, maybe because I’m here to enforce the rules, or maybe because I’m not fun. I follow all of the checklists and read through the Program details, keeping myself busy. I woke up after the Storm half-wrapped in plaster with no memory of anything. The first few days are a blur of pain from the head injury. Soon enough, it became less dramatic, the amnesia was a fact then and a fact now. I faced it alone and learned quickly not to fight it. I can’t remember anything, no reason to get emotional or philosophical about it. Everyone said I was lucky to have made it to the hospital, most people who were outside in the Storm were never seen again. They guessed I had been injured during the earthquakes, but it was all conjecture.

I tried not to listen to the hospital staff’s speculations about what my life was like, or what I was like. They thought they were being helpful and might spark some memory. I would tune them out and spend hours memorizing the hospital room. It’s so clear in my memories, even more so than the house, which I’ve been living in twice as long. The way the corners of the room met to support the flat, smooth ceiling. The exact number of tiles in the ceiling, thirty, and the number of small lights blinking down, six. The texture of the hospital bedding against my skin, scratchy and worn into a strange kind of soft. Comforting but unyielding, built to last. Everything was cream or beige, blending like coffee with too much milk. I can remember the way the colors progressively deepened as the daylight faded through the single window.

I spent the first few weeks, once I could get out of the hospital bed, getting sick every time I had physical therapy. I pushed myself too hard and too fast they said. The doctors still congratulated me on healing quickly, despite my memory not returning. There were many discussions about patience and time, that I would be surprised to wake up one day with memories flooding back. Despite weeks in the hospital and eventually recovering enough physically to run five kilometers with no headache, I still hadn’t remembered anything. The doctors assured me it was completely normal. I needed more time, they repeated, moving into a Program would help me recover through purpose and routine. 

Our Program area is twenty-five square miles, with the residential street at one corner. The whole area was high enough to escape the floods and surrounded by thick forests that protected it from whatever else the Storm had tried to toss this way. From what we can tell, there were only minor earthquakes here, most of the damage was from wind and water. We made house repairs first, thirty of us total, boarding up the odd broken window or patching a roof leak. Then we started the long process of carving out fields for food and some animals, raised a barn, and built a few sheds. The first small harvests were fairly successful and have continued to improve, despite no one having any farming experience beyond growing kitchen herbs, but it’s all thanks to the Program materials. I handle the delegation and training, but I don’t think I am a necessity here. Anyone can read an instruction manual and everyone works hard for the neighborhood. It could probably run as smoothly without me.

—

I jerk awake, sitting upright. My breath is fast and cold sweat clings to the back of my neck. I try to focus on my surroundings. I must have fallen asleep in the armchair while I was watching—my eyes fall on the empty couch, the wool blanket crumpled at the bottom. I jump to my feet and knock a book off the side table. It lands with a thud on the wood floor and I’m startled all over again. I exhale slowly, trying to settle myself, and massage my temples with my fingertips. 

“Headache?” a soft, almost musical voice says behind me. 

I whip around to see the stranger standing behind the island, a mug of steaming something in his hand. I don’t answer and instead, take in the changes from last night. His face is clean and shaven. The rough stubble I saw last night is now a smooth shadow over his jaw. His dark brown hair is messy but in an effortlessly perfect way. He’s wearing a clean grey shirt and dark jeans that must be from one of the extra bedrooms upstairs. He looks like a completely different person than the one I dragged out of the mud in the middle of the night. 

“Coffee? Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He tilts his cup toward the French press sitting on the stove but must be referring to whatever process facilitated his clean appearance. I swallow my irritation at myself for falling asleep and not being alert to watch him. He’s staring at me with a strange expression on his face. I avert my gaze, looking down.

“How’s your leg?” I ask, walking around the island to see that he is keeping weight off of it.

“Alright, thanks to you. The stitches are perfect—don’t worry, I didn’t get them wet,” he says quickly, smiling like he thinks he’s placating me. 

I furrow my eyebrows. 

He bites his lip and turns away to take out a second mug.

“Who are you?” I blurt at his back. 

He sets the French press down and I watch the remaining coffee slosh around inside of it. His shoulders round forward as he looks into the cup he’s poured. I’m about to repeat myself when he inhales and turns. 

He’s wearing a soft smile on his face. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself, I’m Elias,” he says, holding the coffee out. 

I stare at it. 

“You are…?” He tilts his head, studying me. 

I ignore his question, irritated at his calmness. “Where did you come from? Do you realize you’ve trespassed into a Program area?” 

Elias seems to give up trying to goad me with caffeine and sets the mug on the island. “Right, well, when the rainstorm started yesterday, I was in the woods and a tree fell. My leg got hurt but I managed to start walking through the rain to find shelter and wound up here. I had no idea I was so close to a neighborhood…” he says a little too innocently. He runs his hand through his hair, not meeting my eyes anymore. 

I start to do some math in my head. I know for a fact that the closest town ruins are at least twenty miles away and none of the other neighborhoods between were salvageable. Unless he was living in some half-crushed house in one of the still-flooded neighborhoods, that means almost five hours of walking at a good pace. In the rain, through the forest, on an injured leg, it would take probably twice that. He must be lying. No one would make it here that quickly under those conditions. 

I try not to make my skepticism obvious as I ask, “Why were you in the woods?”

“I got lost…” he barely seems convinced himself and it almost sounds like he’s posing it as a question. 

I nod, keeping my face neutral. I’ve heard enough. He seems perfectly fine now, so I can turn him in now. I march over to the front door, tug it open, and step onto the front porch. A wall of rain greets me. I can’t even see the front yard. Elias limps up behind me. I can feel his warmth a few inches away as I stare down the rain. 

“Look, I know what it sounds like, but I promise I’m not a scavenger.” 

After the Storm, not everyone wanted to join a Program. The Program calls the people who roam the deserted towns and destroyed cities, scavengers. Sometimes they work with the Programmers if they find a good haul. More often than not, they operate by their own rules and are dangerous. Luckily, we are so remote that we have never had any find us.

“I’m not here to steal anything. Please—” 

I spin around. 

Elias is closer than I thought and I’m practically in his arms as he leans in the doorway. I meet his gaze and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes are an intense green-gold color, full of light and smoldering. He must be looking straight into my soul. Something flutters there under his consideration. Despite the intrusion, I relax, forgetting my earlier distrust. He smells like pine and soap. It’s so familiar, it must be the scent of the soap in my bathroom. It takes more than a minute for me to catch my original train of thought. 

I mean to be demanding but my voice comes out as a breathy whisper, “You need to tell me why you’re here.”

Elias doesn't answer. He’s searching my eyes one at a time, left to right, and back again, looking for something. Eventually, he breaks away and starts limping back toward the kitchen, leaving me alone in front of the open door. 

I shiver as the cold air surrounds me and shake my head to dispel the strange feelings. My hands numbly close and lock the door before I follow him back into the house. 

At the island, he picks up his cup of coffee and looks back at me. “As I said, I was lost in the woods and my leg got hurt when a tree fell. I could hardly see in the rain so I was just stumbling around looking for shelter. Then, I woke up here,” he repeats with more confidence this time, his voice smooth and even.

“If you’re not a scavenger, why aren’t you assigned to a Program?”

“I managed to stay sheltered for a while in the city,” he offers, shrugging. 

I suppose this could be true. The neighborhood Programs were not compulsory but it seems strange that he would have been on his own for so long. It doesn’t exactly seem safe to be a lone wolf when there are gangs of scavengers roaming around. 

I sigh and run my hand through my hair, brushing it off my face, and realize there is still mud in it from last night. “I can’t turn you in until it stops raining, so I guess you’ll just have to stay here.” If he is surprised or upset by this, he doesn’t show it. I leave him in the kitchen and head upstairs. 

—

Closed in my bedroom, I keep ruminating on Elias’s story. He doesn’t have the look of the scavengers I’ve seen warnings about in the Program. Maybe he left another Program, which isn’t a big deal unless he got into trouble first. Despite these other possibilities, I’m unable to see him as a threat. Something is nagging me about him or this whole situation. Likely, the fact that until now, I’ve never once broken the rules of the Program. I shake my head. It was stupid to bring him to the house. I should have followed protocol. As I stand under the shower, I find myself continuing to rationalize his presence and even excusing his improbable story. This is ridiculous. I don’t know why I am so obsessively curious and willing to ignore my better judgment because of some feelings. 

We are lucky that most of the infrastructure for water and power could be repaired or was undamaged during the Storm. Something about special engineering that preserved the systems. They don’t go into a lot of detail in the Program literature about it, but I’m too grateful to care. Not only is life easier, but it’s also the only reason I am not dead since there wouldn’t have been much of a hospital to save me without running water and electricity. Fuel is the biggest problem now. Most of the underground storage traditionally used was damaged or flooded. In theory, electric cars would still be a possibility, but the roads are in no condition to drive. The Programmers have spent a lot of resources clearing routes. The first few months they had to deliver our supplies in huge off-road military vehicles, which significantly dented their fuel reserves. Even after a year of working to clear roads, journeys take hours with endless detours because of flooding, sinkholes, or other debris.

I walk out of the bathroom and sit on the edge of my bed wrapped in a towel. The blankets are still thrown to the side from when I got up so quickly last night. After I change into leggings and a soft, knit sweater, I make the bed. I take the time to tuck in the corners and smooth the blankets so they lie flat with no wrinkles. I sit back down and work my long, dark hair into two thick French braids. They fall most of the way down my back, definitely too long, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to cut it. I have to start the second braid over again because I’m so distracted thinking about the man downstairs. I look over at the little chrome alarm clock next to my bed and realize how little sleep I got last night and I still have to refigure the schedules due to the rain. I decide to accept Elias’s offer of coffee in the hopes that I can get some work done before I’m dead on my feet. Maybe I can get also the truth out of him and figure out how he ended up here.

Downstairs, I find Elias bustling in the kitchen. He’s humming to himself softly and beating eggs in a bowl while garlic sizzles in a frying pan on the stove. His movements are graceful and intuitive as he moves through the space. One hand absently pushes around the fragrant garlic while the other scans the spice drawer, fingertip sliding over each jar before finding what he’s looking for. He moves on to chopping after plucking some fresh herbs out of the mason jars next to the sink. The knife almost sounds musical on the wooden cutting board before he slides everything into the bowl and cradles it in the crook of his arm to stir it all together. He transfers the mixture into the frying pan and sprinkles in salt and pepper, every step with so much intention it’s almost choreographed. 

It’s been longer than I want to admit before he turns around, to get a sip of his coffee, and notices me watching. 

He smiles and then furrows his eyebrows. “Are you okay?” 

I blink and rub my eyes which must be watering from staring for so long. 

Elias smiles at me again. “How about that coffee now?”

“I—” I look away and clear my throat, decide on nodding instead. 

Elias turns to pour from a full pot. He limps to the fridge and adds a splash of milk out of the glass carafe, then holds it out to me. My fingers brush against his when I take the mug and my heart skitters. 

“I should get to work,” I say quickly, turning away and taking my coffee to the dining table. I drop into one of the chairs with my back to him and grab my tablet from across the table where I normally sit. I stifle a sigh as I sip the coffee, better than I usually make. I labor to lose myself in reworking schedules and timetables for the entire neighborhood, factoring in the delay due to the rain. 

As I am finishing the log updates I will send to the Programmers, Elias starts setting the other end of the table. 

“Breakfast is ready, whenever you’re finished,” he says, sitting down. 

I nod without looking up. I would like to pretend I have important things to do and won’t drop everything because he cooked for us but I can’t. He’s made omelets with tomatoes, mushrooms, and greens. It smells incredible and looks about a thousand times better than the plain scrambled eggs I’ve been overcooking every day. I swear my stomach audibly growls. 

I snap the tablet closed. “I’ve finished anyway,” I say, trying to sound casual as I slide into the next chair over where he’s set a place for me. 

“Bon appétit,” he says. He rests his chin in his hand and waits for me to start. 

I take a bite, trying to downplay my excitement. I swear under my breath. It tastes even better than it looks with a perfect, soft texture. 

“Thank you,” I murmur into my next bite. I can see him grinning as I peek at him through my eyelashes. His expression could be smug but instead, it’s much softer. 

He watches me for a few more bites before he picks up his fork. “My pleasure. It’s been a while since I’ve had fresh eggs and herbs to cook with. Are they from this neighborhood?”

It seems like he’s just curious, so I answer. “Yes, we have a few acres of farmland and animals. The chickens are everyone’s favorites. The herbs are actually from my garden behind the garage.” 

He nods, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Have you seen any other Programs?” I ask. 

I hope it doesn’t seem like an obvious effort to reveal his true motives but I’ve always wondered about other Programs. I imagine groups can do anything locally available, so there must be a lot of possibilities. The Programs are independent and self-sustaining. We consume everything we produce. I’ve always thought that the Programmers seem to get very little out of the whole arrangement. 

Elias shakes his head and swallows his bite of food. “Nothing up close. This is the first time I’ve been into a neighborhood…” He looks up at me. 

I keep my face neutral. 

“I’ve seen a lot of mobile teams though,” he adds.

“Mobile teams?” 

The Program literature I have is specific only to this neighborhood. There is some general information that must go to all the Programs but there isn’t very much about the overall scheme or how it is managed. 

“They set up a camp for a project and move on once they finish. I’ve seen teams working on clearing the roads, sorting through factories, or siphoning gas in parking garages,” he explains.  

I nod and wonder if these teams ever wind up having to fight off scavengers. I hesitate to ask about scavengers since a few hours ago I accused him of being one. 

Elias changes the subject. “So, what did you do before the Storm?”

I swallow and my palms start to sweat. 

It’s an innocent question, one my neighbors have often discussed but this is exactly why I avoid socializing and keep my relationships strictly professional. It seems impossible to lie. I don’t want to but I’m not sure how to explain that there was no “before the Storm” for me. My life is this job, it’s all I have. After sixteen months, I haven’t even remembered my own name. I chew on my lip, trying to gather the courage to tell him something I have never told anyone.

Before I collect myself, he clears his throat. “I’m sorry, that’s a really personal question. I didn’t mean to pry.” I look up and find him smiling gently at me, his eyes full. “I’m grateful that you brought me in last night and are letting me stay.” 

I blink at him. “Oh, it’s okay…” 

Elias stands and stacks my empty plate on top of his, then takes my mug. “Let me get you a refill.” 

“I can clean up, you should stay off your leg,” I say, standing and trying to take the dishes from him. 

“No, no,” he insists, stepping out of my reach, “it’s the least I can do.” 

I still follow him to the kitchen to get the coffee so he doesn’t have to walk back to the table. He refills my mug and hands it to me, smiling, his eyes still full in a way that makes my pulse feel loud behind my ears. I mumble thanks and retreat to the dining table to pretend to work.

TBC

[rvmmm21]

. saviour .

summary : seungwan's walk to work is a dangerous one, joohyun knows that. she'll always be seungwan's hero. it's only to look out for her favourite secretary, after all.

small note : i was going to make this longer but my brain glitched, so it’s just here as a tentative one-shot.

tw : noncon, harrassment, physical intimidation.

[yandere!joyrene x secretary!wendy]

...

Her boss was her saviour.

…

It’s getting dark and she’s walking home from work, bundled up warm to keep out the winter chill. Her mind is on a nice, hot dinner and a relaxing bath after an incredibly stressful day. Gosh, it’s finally the weekend, and that means she’s taking full advantage of those forty-eight hours of ‘her’ time. Of course, that probably means binge-watching the latest episodes of her favourite drama with a tray of home baked ‘weekend muffins’ – strawberry shortcake! – and perhaps, if she’s feeling particularly tense, a short walk in the park. Playing secretary to the Chief Inspector attached to one of the busiest police stations in the city of Seoul is as hectic and draining as you’d imagine, and it often leaves her with little time to herself. So naturally, the highlight of everyday is the end of it, where she can actually sit and breathe.

Except, it’s a bit hard to even think about breathing now, because she’s ambushed just around the corner of the convenience store a few blocks away from her street.

“My, you are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

Seungwan isn’t sure when she started crying, but she’s beginning to curse herself for cracking at the first thing that came out of this stranger’s mouth. She really needs to learn not to look so weak. Especially not when she’s stuck with a woman who’s so tall, she has to look up at her while she’s pressed up against the wall of this perfectly deserted, perfectly claustrophobic alleyway.

No part of her wants to be stuck with any part of this… this villain, gorgeous as she is.

“Aw, don’t cry. What’s wrong, darling? You’re scared, huh...” The woman reaches up momentarily to wipe the tears streaming down her cheeks, leaning in a little too closely to do so. She has one arm against the wall beside Seungwan’s head, and the iniquitous laugh to top it all off.

Seungwan recognises her… vaguely. I mean everybody has eyes, a nose and a mouth, but the way they’re situated on the face in front of her just… she swears she’s seen that face somewhere, if only from hearing her boss rant about - oh no, oh my gosh. The posters, the meetings that were hastily wrapped up as soon as she opened the door to serve her superior her obligatory morning coffee. The woman holding her at knifepoint right now… is the felon Inspector Bae is currently gathering information on, trying to hunt down to keep behind bars.

This woman is top priority at the station. A criminal. Dangerous.

J-Julia?

Jay?

The name comes to her when a gloved hand reaches up to grab her jaw, forcing her chin up so she’s looking straight into glinting eyes.

Joy.

Seungwan tries her best not to make her terror known, but it’s a miserable failure. “Please,” she whispers hoarsely, too terrified to even beg at a normal pitch. “I’m just – I’m an assistant, I just bring the coffee, I don’t have anything important! They don’t tell me anything! I don’t know about the c-cases, Inspector Bae won’t even tell me her address, I have nothing you want, I – ach!”

A forearm across her throat stops her rambling. Hard bone digs into her windpipe, cutting off more than what she had originally wanted to say. Her hands reflexively shoot up to grasp at the appendage choking her, but she’s only shoved further into the stone whenever she tries to pry it away from her neck. “N-No… no i-information…” she weakly gurgles out, desperately trying to hit it home that she really isn’t of any use. “… h-have… nothing, p-please…”

“Shut up.” The woman threatens her before physically doing it, clamping tighter around Seungwan’s jaw and dissolving her verbal pleas into pleading whimpers. The smirk on those crimson lips is so much scarier than anything she’s said so far. “Silly girl, you have everything I want. I want to send a message. That’s what you’re for, isn’t it? What do you think, baby? Do you think your precious Inspector will stop bothering me if I send her cute little toy to work all messed up, hm?”

Seungwan doesn’t answer. She can’t, with how hard she’s sobbing, breathing still painfully restricted, and trying to curl further into herself. Kicking, punching and screaming for help crosses her mind all at once, but those thoughts are fizzled away by the reality of just dropping to her knees and begging this woman to have mercy on her. Tempting as those instincts are, however, she hasn’t time to act on any of them.

As soon as she’s sure she’s not leaving without at least one lovely, permanent scar, Joy is forcefully ripped away and thrown to the side. And as soon as Seungwan can take her first full breath of air, she’s bolting, instinctively getting as far away from that alley as she can. She only realises she’s been dragging her saviour along with her when two arms around her waist abruptly pull her backwards into a warm body. At this point, the poor girl is so confused that she just turns and buries her face into the front of whoever’s just answered her prayers.

A gentle hand comes up and strokes her hair as she shivers from the aftereffects of the ordeal. After a moment of silence, Seungwan dares to slowly glance up at her rescuer. When she meets those kind eyes, the tension almost immediately shreds away and it’s replaced with a small, fond sigh.

“I-Inspector B – ”

And then the voice corrects her with an awkward sternness. “I’m not in uniform, Ms. Son, please don’t address me like that. Joohyun is fine.”

Joohyun, right. The girl wants to correct her too, to tell her she’d much rather she be ‘Seungwan’ instead of ‘Ms. Son’, but she’s too busy being grateful to form any words other than the ‘thank you’ she thinks she’s repeated at least thirty times now.

“Oh dear, what’s this here?” The raven-haired woman brings a finger up to delicately brush Seungwan’s fringe to the side. The smaller girl can only stare at the shiny silver buttons on her black Burberry trench coat as she’s being inspected.

She winces and flinches back when a frigid draft brushes over the cut on her eyebrow, stinging it.

But Joohyun presses her closer. “No, no, it’s okay, let me see it. I can help.”

Obediently, Seungwan stills to allow her to assess the extent of the damage. A sigh of fatigue draws from her lips when Joohyun’s fingers trace over the small wound. The touch is light and comforting. Comforting enough for it to slip her mind that it’s very late at night and the leftovers sitting in her fridge are waiting to be reheated. That, and her direct superior is in front of her, holding her up while she studies her condition.

She shifts slightly to catch the other woman’s attention. “I’m fine… Joohyun, really.” The name sounds funny coming off like that. “We need to report this, I can come in tomorrow. That was – I think that was Joy – and if she’s in the area then you could be in dan – ”

The grip tightening around her waist is more than mildly inappropriate, but it’s successful in cutting her short. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll file the paperwork, you need to rest.”

Yet again, Seungwan tries to insist that reporting the incident sooner rather than later could be vital in capturing Joy, and that Joy’s arrest took precedence over a minor cut. But Joohyun remains resolute. “Come on,” she says, heaving one of Seungwan’s arms over her shoulder and curling the other around her waist, “I’ll walk you home, just tell me where to go. You could still be targeted. It’s not safe.”

The space between them is non-existent, and the room to compromise, even more so. Joohyun reaches over briefly to tuck Seungwan’s scarf back into her coat before they start walking, and the girl drops her gaze. The fright has worn off and it’s just now terribly embarrassing for her to even be in the presence of someone like Joohyun. I mean, she’s Chief Inspector Bae for god’s sake. She didn’t just get that title, all those gleaming medals and framed awards from twiddling her thumbs and sitting pretty at her desk all day.

It almost makes Seungwan feel like a liability.

If she can’t defend herself from one attacker, why is she even working as an assistant to a woman who hunts villains down for a living? How many times does she think Joohyun is going to be there to catch her when she falls?

But that’s just it.

She is so relieved at the fact she’s still alive, that she forgets to ask how her boss knew exactly where to find her.

…

Much later into the night, a familiar figure in a black trench coat re-enters the alleyway. It’s quiet, and empty. Even emptier than it had been when Seungwan was walking back earlier on, save for the dark, hooded silhouette on the far right, and the grating sound of steel against brick.

“Aaand she finally appears.” The hooded figure greets, sheathing her dagger. “Did your little secretary get home alright?”

Black trench coat scoffs, stepping into the darkness and doing her best not to seem offended. “Sooyoung, did you really have to be that rough? You gave our poor angel such a nasty looking cut. And you made her cry.”

This time, it’s Sooyoung’s turn to take a defensive tone, albeit slightly playful. “Hey, I followed the plan! Scare her, threaten a little… you know, all that bad-guy stuff.” She can’t help herself, she’s always like that with Joohyun: relentlessly teasing. The mockery in her voice alone should be enough for Joohyun to cuff her on the spot, but she knows she’ll never do it.

She’s learnt to tolerate every aspect of Sooyoung’s personality; endearingly annoying as they may be. Still, it doesn’t stop the sinister growl from her throat, despite the grin on her face. It gains the other woman’s full attention instantly.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Hyunnie? Afraid you won’t have any eye-candy at work for a while?” She slides over to her, casually poking the shorter woman in the ribs. There’s a beat of silence and then Sooyoung sticks her bottom lip out in a pout when she’s left hanging. “You think I took it too far, don’t you?”

Joohyun’s reply is a smile. The image of Seungwan trembling in her arms, looking up at her through those fluttering, innocent eyelashes after Sooyoung’s ‘ambush’ is reassurance enough that everything happened at the right time and at the right intensity. Seungwan had looked at her like her saviour. Sooyoung hadn’t overdone it.

Sooyoung takes a tentative step forward, even closer now. “Hyun…”

There’s a genuine gratitude in her voice when Joohyun speaks again. “Thank you, Sooyoung. Really, you did so good for me. For us.”

“No problem, unnie,” Sooyoung makes a show of giving her an exaggerated courtesy, the playful lilt surfacing once more. “It’s my duty, as your – ”

And she’s pulled into a kiss. Five fingers firmly twist into the lapels of her jacket and tug her down into a searing, passionate kiss against the same wall Seungwan was pinned to a few hours ago, where she cried her eyes out.

Joohyun pulls away roughly, lips swollen and tingling from the cold. She smirks when Sooyoung looks as glazed-over as she feels. Their heaving breaths create a thin, silvery fog between them, as Joohyun holds the taller woman’s gaze with ease.

“You are the best, Young-ah. I love you.”

[sanababes]

It All Ends Here

Pairings: female kpop idols x fem!reader

Warnings: NEUTRAL (detective au)

-----------

PROFILE

• Name: Park Y/n (female)

• Age: 18

• Height: 5'8

• Bloodtype: A-

===

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock

The sound of the clock almost lulled you to sleep. Exhaustion was finally taking a toll on your whole body due to the continuous murder cases for the past weeks. You and your teammates were sent to different crime scenes to assist the bureau, and especially to ensure the safety of the city of Seoul.

A sound of glass being placed on the table interrupted your eyelids from fully closing. You looked up to see your trusted partner, Major Song Yuqi. She chuckled at your vulnerable state then took a sit across you.

"It's pretty rare to see you that tired, Y/n." She mocked playfully.

You rolled your eyes out of annoyance and clearly, your day won't get any better.

"Yeah right,"

She gestured you to drink the liquid that she mainly prepared to ease your troubled mind. You casted a look of doubt to your mischievous friend before shrugging your shoulders and sipped on the hot tea. A delightful sigh came out from your mouth as the warm liquid rushed down on your throat.

"Damn, that's much better... Thanks, Yuqi." You smiled gently which made the latter feel contented.

"It's nothing, Lead Inspector."

"Oh! Today's finally the day we elect a new mayor! Who are you going to vote for?" She added while pacing around your room excitingly.

"Huh? I don't know yet..." You replied nonchalantly.

"Well I'm going for Kwon Boa, but don't tell chief though or he'd go spare!" You chuckled at your partner's antics.

Seoul is currently celebrating the election between the mayoral candidates – Choi Siwon (red party) and Kwon Boa (blue party). Both are socialites within the government, with Siwon being the current elected mayor and Boa's aspiring will to lead the city better.

Just then, the door of your office burst open. The two of you immediately rise up and greeted the Police Chief of Seoul, Kim Namjoon.

"There you are, Lead Inspector. I've been searching for you, "

"Speaking of the devil..." You heard Yuqi grumbling under her breath.

You stifled a laugh before welcoming the man inside.

"Well know that you found me, what is it that you want to say, Chief?" Your eyes glanced down to the i voted badge on his chest.

"I'm sure that you guys know that today is an important day! Keeping things secure is our top priority for now, that's why I came here. I want you to go check out the red party's offices because Mayor Siwon has expressed strong fears about the safety of his staffs and I don't want to leave anything to chance." He stated, but you're a little unsure with his sudden firm attitude.

"But chief I've been hoping that we'd be having a day off—"

Yuqi's whine was cut off when the chief yelled out.

"You can't seriously have hoped to be off duty on such a day, Major Song?! Now go and report to me as soon as your team is done patrolling!"

Eventually, you went to the lounge area of the officers with Yuqi tailing behind you and saw your other five teammates chilling without any worries.

"Guys! We'll be heading to the headquarters of the red party, please ready yourselves and we'll leave in a bit."

Sua, Jennie, Joy, Sana, and Miyeon groaned in unison as they struggled to follow your orders.

"Oh stop with the fuss, we are all tired here... Don't worry I'll try to book a week vacation for us." You offered.

Their faces instantly lit up at what you said, causing them to gear up hastily which made you snort.

《at Red party's Headquarters》

You and the girls stepped out from the van then walked up to the entrance of the building.

"Hey Y/n, have you noticed... how tense Chief is acting lately?" Jennie said as she clings to your right arm.

The others immediately agreed to what the older girl uttered.

"I know right, maybe the mayor is putting some kind of pressure on him. I hope it stops after the elections." Sana continued while swiftly wrapping her arm around you.

"We don't know anything about that yet, let's just wait and see."

You finally composed yourself, and as if it was planned, Mayor Siwon appeared with his bodyguards behind him.

"Inspector Y/n, I'm so glad that you girls are here!"

He shook hands with you and the girls looked at him with hidden disgust, unknown to your own oblivious demeanor.

"That goes the same for us, Mr. Choi." You smiled politely.

"Uhm since my headquarters are about to open in an hour or two, I want to make sure everything is safe for my staff's last day of work."

He motioned to come closer to the sealed doors before unlocking them one by one.

"Here, I've opened the doors for you. Please if you can just have a quick look inside, I'll feel safer." You and the girls reluctantly stepped inside the offices.

Your team began to part ways and started to look around the vast hall.

Not even a few seconds had passed, a loud shriek coming from Joy made you dash to her side.

"What's wro– oh shit!" Yuqi cursed as she saw what the latter was screaming about.

There in front of you and the other officers was a man sitting in one of the office chairs, unfortunately, he was shot to death.

"Oh my god! B-but how could this happen, and is that the rookie model, Kwon Jiyoung? What is h-he even doing here?" Joy stuttered due to the terrifying scene.

"I've never liked him at all since he's been involved with some drug scandal, but to die like that and be shot right between the eyes? Damn..." Sua sighed.

Just then, the mayor called out.

"Inspector, is everything alright?" His eyes went wide when he saw Jiyoung's dead body.

"Oh god, I-I swear I had nothing to do with this! I'm innocent and history will prove it!" He exclaimed while starting to walk backwards.

"Calm down, Mr. Choi. We're just going to need to talk to you since Jiyoung was shot in your headquarters, after all." You warned him with your raspy voice.

'Ughh, daddy~' The girls thought except for Yuqi.

( a/n: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

The mayor agreed and ushered you and your team to make it quick.

"Oh God, the press will surely crucify me once they knew about this. We need to do some damage control!"

After calming the man down, you added him to the profile list for being a possible suspect.

You told Jennie, Sana, and Joy to bring the victim's body to the morgue for an autopsy report. The rest are tasked to investigate the crime scene.

"Y/n! I found a receipt, this might be a clue." Miyeon said as you take a look on the faded paper.

It belonged to Jiyoung and it seems like he bought a drink at Lotte Hotel shortly before his death.

"Good job, maybe try checking the hotel after this search? You can bring Detective Jieun with you."

"Yes, Inspector!" She kissed your cheek before going back on finding clues or some fingerprints.

'Why are they so whipped for me...'

===

You and Yuqi are currently talking with the mayor in some private room within the Red party's offices. They are still some questions that Siwon needs to answer to give your team some information.

"Inspector, this cannot be happening! The journalists will have a field day with this if it goes out to the public!" He said and distress was evident on his face.

"I'm afraid that we cannot make this go all away, but I have already informed the Chief. I'm sure he'll keep this case confidential for a lotted time." Your partner reassured the man.

"I can't believe people would do this... Killing a man just to ruin my chances of being re-elected!"

Your brows furrowed at his statement.

"So you are claiming that you were framed?"

He reasoned that Kwon Jiyoung was an avid supporter of his campaign.

"I see, thank you for having time for us Mr. Mayor." You and Yuqi soon left the offices.

《back to Seoul Police Department》

The good news instantly came as the two of you arrived at the station. Coroner Kim Taeyeon reported that the victim was executed cleanly with an extremely precise shot. The killer seems to be right-handed due to the bullet trajectory and definitely knows how to handle a gun.

—————————————————

KILLER'S PROFILE

• handles guns

• right-handed

—————————————————

Meanwhile, Miyeon and Jieun just came back from investigating the lobby and bar of Lotte Hotel.

"Y/n, it's confirmed that Kwon Jiyoung came to the hotel shortly before his death. We also picked up a torn ticket, I'm sure it looks promising!" The detective said while handing you a clear zip bag which contains the clue.

"I see, let me try restore it in my office. I'll see you guys in a bit."

You sauntered towards your office and placed the torn pieces of the ticket on your table. You leaned one of your hands on the hard surface before starting to place the pieces together.

You're now down to the last part when someone back hugged you and nuzzled its face into the crook of your neck.

"Y/n~ let's cuddle~" Sana whined which made you chuckle.

"Now is not the time for that Sana-ssi, besides I just finished restoring the second clue." You showed her the finished product.

The girl snatched it from your hold before skimming through the details of the plane ticket. She also pushed you gently towards the table which made you sit on it, the latter smiled then placed herself on your lap.

"It says that this ticket was brought under Kwon Jiyoung's name. And this is a one-way ticket to Hawaii! Why he would even purchase such kind of trip?" Sana pouted as she turned her face towards you.

"You're right. As far as I know, Jiyoung's sole goal in life is to be a bona fide member of Seoul's exclusive luxury community. He'll never have left for some tropical islands..."

"The credit card number used to buy this ticket will help us understand everything! ...Oh no, it's badly printed... can you help decipher this for me Sana unnie?" You asked cutely.

"O-of course, I'll be done in no time!" You saw her blushing which made you smirk internally.

"Thanks, I really appreciate the help." You pressed a kiss on her forehead before leaving the latter flustered.

Your phone suddenly rang as you pressed answer, not even bothering to look at the name of the caller.

"Yah Park Y/n! We still need to have a chat with Kwon Boa, I'm barging in any second!" Yuqi exclaimed.

You groaned at her childish demeanor.

"I'll be back in an hour, please do your task okay?" You reminded Sana before finally meeting up with Yuqi.

===

《Seoul City Hall》

The press conference of the candidates just ended a few minutes ago, so you took it as an advantage and greeted the head of the blue party.

"Ah, Inspector Park! It's nice to see you, have you voted yet? After what happened today it seems like my victory tonight is almost ensured!" Boa expressed herself happily.

"Are you referring to Kwon Jiyoung's murder?" Yuqi asked as you watched the older woman in front.

"Hmm, I always had a hunch that the red party is populated with bloodthirsty maniacs. I mean making dreadful deeds just to advance their political agenda... Poor Mr. Kwon being shot at their own headquarters, now I'm sure that the citizens of Seoul will vote for me!"

"Anyways, my campaign has always been based on honesty and morals." The mayoral candidate stated.

You just sighed at her egocentric reply.

"I think that's all that we need to know for now, Mrs. Kwon. We'll keep in contact with you, just in case." You sent her a cold gaze before walking away with your partner.

Yuqi grumbled under her breath before draping her arms around your tall frame.

"These goddamn politicians are going to be the death of me..."

You chuckled on what she said.

"Same... Right now we only have two suspects."

"Yeah, we should close this case as soon as we can. By the way, Officer Chan told me that you should check your email soon. He said the mayor's staff sent you a video recording." Your partner explained.

You immediately grabbed your phone then opened your email.

1 unread inbox

You shared a meaningful glance with Yuqi before opening the said message.

A videotape is played which showed Kwon Boa sneaking into the Mayor's office, presumably right before Jiyoung was killed.

"I can't believe this! It's Mrs. Kwon! We should speak to her again right now–"

"Not so fast, Major Song." Chief Kim appeared with some of the SWAT officers behind him.

"Mrs. Kwon can wait, I want you two to go secure the stand where the election's winner will be announced."

"Huh? But Chief we can't lose time on finding–" you tried to argue, but as usual, you were cut off again.

"Finding Mr. Kwon's murderer is top-priority, but so is the election winner's safety! I'm counting on you Inspector Park, go talk to Boa and don't forget to check out the election stand on the way!"

You and your partner had no choice but to follow his orders instantly.

"Every goddamn time, he always cuts us off!" You whined childishly which is pretty rare.

After a few minutes of walking, the two of you arrived at the wide podium. It has two large posters of each party which is hanged opposite to one another. The guest tables were pretty scattered in front of it due to the neglecting visitors who came to watch the awaited conference a while ago.

"Let's split up, you're with the tables then the podium is mine." You instructed Yuqi.

"Yes ma'am!"

The two of you then started to inspect the area thoroughly without missing a single spot. There were a few plant vases on the stage which didn't look suspicious until you saw one that looked a bit unkempt and the soil was disheveled too.

'Oh! Looks like our killer messed up a little, too bad for him...'

You wore your leather gloves before analyzing the vase carefully. It seems like someone previously dug up a hole and covered it carelessly. A smirk crept into your lips as you shoved your hand in the soil and began to try feel any possible foreign object.

"What are you doing?" You looked down to see your partner doubting your current efforts to find a lead.

"I'm searching for any clues? Duh..."

You suddenly felt a hard item and struggled to have a grip on it. After a few seconds of harsh pulling, you finally hauled a small garbage bag with something wrapped completely inside it.

"Look what I got~" you grinned playfully.

"How the fuck did you–"

"I'm going to bring this to the forensic team, have anything useful too?" You asked while stepping down the podium.

"Uh I got this hidden camera on one of the tissue holders, and then I saw this notebook on the floor. The page is torn so I think It looks suspicious so yeah,"

Yuqi handed the portable camera and ripped notebook to you. She also helped on putting all the clues inside your forensic kit whilst you called for Officer Wooseok to pick you up from the city hall.

"I called for Jennie and Joy to help you talk with Mrs. Kwon again, I'm sure you can handle it without me right? I'll go ahead to the station to get this stuff examined." You bid a goodbye to your partner and told her to wait for the other girls.

'Let's see if the fun starts from now on.'

Part 2 coming soon...

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

How was ittt? Its my first time writing with these kind of theme sooo yeah hihi 🐶

[violetsdicaprio]

Romeo and Juliet

-Part 2

Previous parts: 1

Pairings: Sister! reader x Peaky Blinders

Warnings: Any theme Peaky Blinders mentions.

Tag list: @jenepleurepasbaby​ @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @soleil-dor​ @pachuh​ @shadow-of-wonder​

A/N:  Ah! I can’t believe how much support this fic has gotten, so here’s the second part :)

BRUSHING AWAY HER STREAMING tears, Y/N just kept running and running and running. Allowing her feet to guide her down the filthy streets. The vulgar stench of the murky river filled her nose, acting as a guide to where she truly was. Bustling through groups of people, she had no time to apologise and escaping the area of the Blinders was always an issue. However, the lump buried deep within had finally loosened, even if she was harsh, it only expressed  how she truly felt... Alone. 

Coming to a sudden halt, she found herself by the only remaining patch of grass in Small Heath, the river flowed only a few inches away as a long shipment boat cruised past. Birds chirped lightly behind her, the cluster of birds sang harmoniously mocking the girl who sobbed below.  She held the cross tightly in her hand, maybe Tommy was right, her fragile couldn’t take another hit. Maybe she was better of completely alone. Maybe she just wanted her mother, everything went down hill the day her Mother was found at the bottom of the cut. Maybe it would be better for everyone if she reunited with her Mother once more...

Hands grazed the crunchy grass, yellowing from the lack of raining in the summer month. Although it wasn’t hot, the breeze was light and the lack of moisture kept everything cool. Beige fabric clustered around her legs, a few specks dampened by her gushing tears. Slowly breathing in and out, she tried to calm herself, making her self as tranquil as everything around her. In this small heap of Small Heath, the world around just stopped and she stared at the slow moving clouds. The peaceful surrounding interrupted by the thick smog of the puffing factories nearby. 

“Y/N...” A low voice alerted her, causing her to spring out of thought as someone sat beside her. Her piercing ocean eyes clashed with the deep meadows of Mattia Sabini. Letting out a sigh of relief, she pulled back her hair revealing her reddened and stained cheeks. His hand slid onto her face; her head tilting to fill the void of emptiness. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, closing the gap between them his thumb caressed her cheek as Y/N let out one last sob.

“They know.” She croaked, her breathes still shaky as her eyes flickered to the ground. “They know...” her voice dropped to below a whisper. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe.” She reminded, pushing away slightly but his hold kept her from melting with tears.

“I don’t care.” He spoke in the similar soft tone, “You are all I need.”

Pausing for a moment, she let the simple words sync in. A smile broke out across her lips as their foreheads met. “You are all I need.” In an instant their lips connected, passionately moulding into sync as her slipped arms slipped around her neck and his snaked around her waist. Sparks flew as the butterflies arose in her stomach, even after knowing him for months the same feeling from the first day they met would constantly repeat. Pulling away Y/N gasped for air, before removing her arms from his neck. 

“Why are you here?” She questioned, knowing they were meant to meet during the evening.

“He knows too. The Inspector came to visit him.” Mattia confessed causing her to look towards her hands.

“I...I know.” She replied, a troubled expression playing on the boys face. “H-he gave me this.” Y/N added when she held up the silver cross she had held so tightly before.

“Merda.” He cursed under his breath, grabbing her hand that held the necklace and sucked in a deep breath. “Come here.” He motioned subtly and she did, allowing him to clasp the silver chain around her neck. Compared to his usual self, he was so gentle and when she turned to face him that smiled just reminded him why he was so crazy about this girl. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? It’s beautiful...” She stared down analysing the engravings and glistening jewel.  

“You don’t have to wear it, just something for when we’re no together.” He breathed, “Keep it close to your heart.” Y/N couldn’t help but smile, a light blush dusted her cheeks as she looked towards the cut.

“Hey, look at me.” Mattia’s hand took Y/N’s as their eyes met once more. “Nothing will keep us apart.” he mentioned, feeling the worry that radiated from the girl. “Y/N you must know, my Father may force me to do something.” He sucked in a breath, her undivided attention was now on him. “I will always protect you...” He paused, thinking of his next words but was beat to them.

“My family...”

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

I absolutely loved your Phrack short fics, especially the last one with the wedding au! You have a magic touch for modern AUs ;) and reading them brought me a lot of joy!!! If you still take prompts, would you do number 11 for Phrack? :D

Awww, you’re too kind! ❤️Happy to oblige - hope you enjoy it!!

partners in crime au

---

The party was exclusive, extravagant, and already in full swing, with lights, sounds, and the occasional party guest spilling out onto the sidewalk of the sprawling downtown estate.

Across the street, sat in an innocuous and unmarked van, Jack watched and waited for her signal.

It didn’t take long.

A moment later, his comm crackled to life and he sat up a little straighter in front of his monitors at the sound of her voice in his ear.

She was in.

“Excellent work, Jack, not one active alarm along my route.”

“No names over comms,” he reminded her.

“Yes, yes,” she sighed. “Code names only, ludicrously formal though they may be. This isn’t my first rodeo.” Jack rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable follow up meant to fluster him. “That was with Ronaldo.”

And there it was.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Fisher. Are you past the guard yet?”

“Not yet. Hold please.”

Jack tapped his fingers on his knee. She was fine, would be fine, was always fine. But he couldn’t help being a little nervous every time anyway.

The sound of her giggles filled his ears. Oh, so she was going for drunk and lost. A classic.

“Excuse me, I seem to have gotten turned around. Is this the ladies’ room?”

“This floor is off limits, ma'am, please return to the party.”

“I just need it for a — oh, that’s all muscle there, isn’t it?” Phryne giggled again, then her voice turned breathy. “Are you sure the party can’t be right here?”

The guard’s voice remained surprisingly flat. “Ma'am, I’m really going to have to ask — ”

WHACK

Jack jumped in his seat at the sound of Phryne’s knee colliding with the man’s groin.

From seduction to judo in three seconds flat; if THAT didn’t sum her up he didn’t know what did.

Jack heard a few more hits, followed by silence.

“Past the guard,” she informed him cheerfully.

“Yes, I heard,” he replied. “Poor fellow. I didn’t realize anyone was immune to your charms. We should have him studied for science.”

“It happens.” He could almost hear her elegant shrug. “Brain injuries are common with hired goons. Plus, he had it coming — he called me ma'am. Twice!”

Jack bit back a laugh and carried on as professionally as he could. “First lock?” he asked.

“Electronic keypad. I’m holding the reader up to it now — do your magic, Jack.”

“No names over comms,” he reminded her, fingers flying across the keys as he broke the lock from across the street.

“Thank you, darling. Laser grid off?”

“Lasers off, camera looped,” he confirmed. “You’re all clear to the last door.”

“How’s our party crasher?” she asked conversationally as she made her way down the hall and to their prize.

“Still on my scope. I cleared her route as well, obvious though it was: she came in through the window while you were tangoing with security.”

“In through the window? That sounds exhausting.”

“Rookies,” he lamented mildly. “I have her on the monitor now. She’s wearing some kind of extravagant polka dot dress, no doubt to blend in with the party for her escape, and trying to figure out how to dismantle the display case the coins are kept in without setting off the alarm.”

“Polka dots? With this crowd? Rookie indeed,” Phryne tsked sympathetically.

“How did you find out about her anyway?”

“She went to the Red Raggers for equipment and they told me. Said it seemed like a job right up our alley. Oh! Perhaps we should have asked them along.”

“Uh, no thanks. This job hardly required a small and unbearably surly army, Miss Fisher.”

“They’re never surly with me,” she teased him.

“Yes, I am aware it’s personal, thank you. Are you at the door yet?”

“Just arrived, Jack.”

“No names over — ”

“Yes, yes, I know. Picking the lock now.” He heard her expertly moving her tools in the tumbler, a reassuringly familiar sound by now. “You know, I was just thinking...”

“Well that never bodes well for me.”

“Don’t be like that, darling; this is personal, not professional.”

“Equally dangerous.”

“Mmmmm,” she agreed with a smile he could hear in her voice. “Anyway, I was wondering… do we really need to return the Columbian emeralds right away?”

“They belong in a museum, Miss Fisher.”

“Of course. And we’ll return them, absolutely. It’s just… I was thinking I might model them for you first.”

“Were you then?” With no one else in the van, Jack didn’t even try to hide his smile at the idea.

“Oh yes. And do you know what they go best with?”

“Justice?”

“My green Jimmy Choos and a smile.”

The image was too much, and Jack groaned.

“Phryne….”

“No names over comms, Inspector,” she whispered gleefully just as the last tumbler slid into place. “And I’m in.”

Jack bit back a curse at being played so thoroughly and checked his monitors instead. The security feed from the mansion was hardly HD quality, but he could plainly see the young woman who was already in the residence’s antiquities room jump when Phryne entered.

“Hello!” Phryne greeted brightly.

“Stand back!” the young woman cried. “I have a weapon!”

“You have a spanner, dear. Which could be a weapon, but you’re holding it all wrong to do any real damage to anything except a lug nut.”

The woman took a step away from the display case and swiveled her head nervously between the open door and the window she’d come in through. Finally she turned back to Phryne, shoulders set firmly.

“Before you take another step, you should know — Gerald McNaster stole this Spanish doubloon from the people of Peru!”

“Of course he did. That’s why we’re here to help you get it back to them.”

“You’re… I’m sorry, I’m confused. Who are you?”

“Darling... we’re the calvary.”

“We?”

“My partner and I. He’s in the van.”

“Oh. I… I’m confused.”

“That’s understandable, but we’re a bit pressed for time so why don’t I explain on the way?”

“Oh. Ok. My name is — ”

“Only code names over comms, dear, the Inspector is ever so strict about that, provided he’s not incredibly turned on.”

“Miss Fisher!”

Phryne winked and blew a kiss to the security camera before turning back to the woman. “Anyway, I love your dress. Let’s call you Dottie.”

“... ok.”

“Excellent! Inspector, fire up the van, we’ll be coming in hot.”

“As you wish, Miss Fisher. Be careful.”

“I always am.”

Dottie looked confused. Jack didn’t blame her.

“How are we leaving?” she asked.

Phryne took the spanner out of Dottie’s hand and gestured with it to the outer wall. “Out the window. Terrible way in, wonderful way out. I assume your rigging is still attached?”

The woman nodded.

“Perfect.”

“But the rope’s too short for both of us,” Dottie noted. “What will we land on?”

“The van of course. Shall we?”

Jack heard the sound of breaking glass, followed by sirens — so much for disengaging the display case’s alarm — and started the engine, already moving into place under the window.

A soft thud a moment later was followed by her head poking into the driver’s side window.

“Hello Jack!” she grinned at him.

“Hello Phryne,” he replied, stealing a quick kiss as he did — he was a thief after all.

The two women climbed down and into the van, and Jack sped off into the night, his mind on Columbian emeralds, Jimmy Choos and smiles.

| Short Fic Ask |

[elizabethemerald]

Stealing a Jule’s Heart

Chapter 1: Coffee Date

AO3

Please Reblog if you like!

Julia Argent sat at the cafe waiting. She tried not to show how nervous she was. Carmen Sandiego the famous thief had requested an exchange. She had recently stolen a famous painting, a Monet. The ACME agency had acquired some kind of data drive. The director presumed it contained files about the VILE organization. Julia had to convince the director to make the trade, the Director felt that getting information on VILE was worth the loss of one painting, but Julia wouldn’t allow it, not that she honestly thought that Ms. Sandiego would destroy or sell the painting. 

She couldn’t believe that Carmen Sandiego had specifically requested her! Julia wasn’t usually the cool and suave type that made criminal exchanges. Julia couldn’t help but think about Carmen’s red hair, how cool and in control she always seemed. She fiddled with her tea while she waited, she absolutely couldn’t believe that this woman worked with VILE, it completely didn’t match her MO. 

“Heya Jules!” Julia started as the woman in red called her name. 

“La Femme Rouge!” Inspector Devineaux’s voice hissed in her earpiece. 

Carmen Sandiego stood before her resplendent in her scarlet trench coat and fedora, her long red hair flowed out underneath her hat. She sat down opposite Julia. 

The agent couldn’t help but notice the unique Carmen Sandiego did things. She inspected her spoon, turning it this way and that. Julia realized she was looking at the reflection of the ACME agents behind her. 

Then she started gently tapping the lapel of her jacket. At first Julia thought it was out of nervousness, till she recognized the tapping as morse code. She couldn’t tell what Carmen was saying but she was talking to someone else, likely notifying her companions about the agents surrounding them. 

Julia regreted not having established a similar manner to discuss the situation with the inspector and the director. 

“Are you ready to make the exchange Ms. Sandiego?” Julia asked. 

“Let’s not rush to talk shop. And please call me Carmen." 

"O-oh. Uh Carmen. What would you like to talk about then?" 

"How about you? What drives an art lover such as yourself to become a member of Interpol?”

“I uh, I have always felt that art and other historical pieces should be made available to everyone, and that people who steal pieces for their own gain, and risk damaging the artwork are the type that I want to see brought to justice.”

Carmen leaned forward. “I couldn’t agree more. This Monet for instance.” She tapped a tube that was strapped to her chest. “Kept in a private collection where only one person could ever see it. Not after today though!”

Julia wanted to discuss the painting more, but felt it would be rude. “What about yourself? You seem an art euthusist, what brought you to a life of high crime?”

The woman opposite her smiled at her. Julia quickly took a drink of her tea to cover her blush. “You could say I was raised to it.”

“This is not a date Agent Argent!” Inspector Devineaux’s voice roared in her ear. She involuntarily flinched and raised her hand to her ear. She hadn’t wanted to notify Carmen that she had an ear piece in, but the woman in red noticed. 

“Are your superiors insisting we complete our trade?" 

Julia nodded. She picked up the case next to her and Carmen undid the strap holding the tube. Carmen handed over the tube and grabbed the data case without looking at it closely. Julia carefully looked at the art, it matched the description, but they would have to wait for chemical analysis to confirm. 

She looked up from the painting to see that Ms. Sandiego had leaned forward, so her hat was hiding them from the agents around them. 

"May I give you a piece of advice?” Julia nodded, her face felt hot with Carmen so close. The other woman set a small red device on the table. Julia’s earpiece buzzed for a moment then went silent. “If you’re going to try and pull off a bait and switch, you have to do a more convincing job with the bait. I know how these data files look better than almost any person on the planet. I spotted the fake before I even sat down.”

“Is this a fake?” Julia clutched the painting to herself. 

“No. I always planned on giving you the painting, it belongs in the public eye.” She smiled at the other woman, and said, “I’m the bait, and the switch is complete.”

Carmen grabbed the device off the table and suddenly Julia's earpiece was filled with the sound of Chase’s swearing. 

“They’ve stolen the data file! The real one! All agents capture Carmen Sandiego! Capture the Femme Rouge!”

“Thanks for the tea Jules!” With her hat still blocking the view of the converging agents she pressed a quick peck to Julia’s cheek. Then she turned and fired her grappling hook at a truck that roared past at that moment. The line went taught and she was dragged away from the cafe. Julia carefully held onto the painting in its tube as agents rushed around her to get into their cars. She knew without looking that her ears and cheeks were bright red. 

“Monet painting secured. Heading to the lab for chemical verification.” She said into her microphone, then she took out her ear pieces, ending Chase’s stream of shouts and curses. 

[nobodyxnobodyxnobody]

Do you love me? Thomas Shelby x Reader (Peaky Blinders)

It was like Tommy had given up. You hadn't seen him or heard from him in days. You finally got up the nerves to go look for him. There was no use in sitting around and waiting for a man. So, you went to his house, his office, shit you even went to his aunt Pol's house but you couldn't find him. No one would tell you where he was. Not even Ada. Unsatisfied with your results you returned home. All you could think about was what happened a few nights ago. ***

You were shocked to see Tommy waiting outside of your house when you returned home from work. He looked stressed. Being seemingly his only friend you had to deal with most of his stress and anger, but that's what made your friendship so wonderful. He was open with you. After years and years of very hard work, you were able to earn his trust and break down a few of his walls. It took you a lot of time and demanding work but in the end, it was worth it. 

You had strong feelings for the blue-eyed devil, but you knew it was a one-way street. You were his friend and nothing more. You were reminded painfully every time he came over to vent. He would go on and on about Grace and how frustrating she was. How he wanted to give her the whole damn world but how she didn't even want it. Hell, she didn't even want him. She was a married woman after all but she had buried her way into his heart when she was spying on him for Chief Inspector Campbell. "Tommy." You acknowledged him as you pushed past him to unlock your front door. "[Y/N]." Your name rolling off his tongue sent a shiver down your spine. You loved and heated when he said your name. You pushed the door open and walked in leaving him to follow you inside. You took off your shoes and tossed your coat and purse into a dining chair. You heard him push the door closed behind him. His stepped echoed off the walls as he made his way into the kitchen. "Tea or whiskey?" You asked as you filled up your teapot with water. "Tea," He said taking a seat at the dining table. His comment made your stomach sink. Tommy loved having a glass of alcohol to drink while he decompressed. He only had tea when it was really bad. When he knew he couldn't rely on alcohol to get through the night.

"One of those nights?" You asked turning to look at him as you sat the teapot on the stove. "One of those years." He shook his head and gave you one of his fake smiles when made you scowl. You kept quiet as did he as you got the tea around. You weren't much of a tea drinker, but it was nice to have something to keep your hands busy as Tommy talked about other women. Your mind wandered to what Grace could have said or done to make Tommy so on edge. Or maybe it was another woman occupying his mind tonight. You placed his teacup in front of him and pulled up a seat across from him. It was nice to have something in between you two. You weren't sure how well you could manage with nothing there to keep you from touching him. He took a sip of his tea before he started.

"I can't do this anymore." He stood up abruptly and started making his way toward the door. "What?" You called after him. You stood up and caught his hand before he could leave. He quickly snatched his hand away from you and turned around to face you. "You're driving me crazy [Y/N]." You shivered at your name again. "Fuck, the way you move, your beautiful [E/C] eyes, shit even the way you say my name. It's driving me crazy." You were lost for words. You didn't know what to say. You were driving him crazy? You didn't do anything to him. If anything he was driving your crazy with all his talk about a married woman that only used him. You didn't have any time to say anything to him before you found his lips on yours. You didn't even realize he had gotten close enough to kiss you. His hands held your face in place as his lips moved quickly against yours. It was messy and rushed kissed but it didn't stop it from being wonderful. He pulled away quickly and pushed himself from you. "Fuck [Y/N]. I shouldn’t have done that. I'm sorry." "It's okay." You had somehow found your voice. "I love you." You didn't know if this way the right time to say it, but you couldn't let him leave without letting him know how you truly felt. "Fuck!" He yelled this time and pulled you back to him. Your lips meet together with a burning passion. You didn't know how but it was already way better than the kiss you just shared. You pushed your hands into his soft black hair as he ran down your body pulling you closer to him. He pushed you back into your living room and you found the back of your legs against the air of your couch. He pushed you back onto the couch giving you time to breathe. "Tell me to stop." He whispered as he started unbuttoning his shirt. "Do you want to stop?" You asked and pushed yourself back falling onto the couch. "I don't think I can." He looked at you with dark hungry eyes. You never saw such a look on his face before. It made your core tighten and your face feel hot. "Then don't." You knew you were playing a dangerous game but you couldn't help but taught him. He launched himself on to you. He kissed you until you were breathless and then moved down on to your neck. He nibbled down the neck as his hands traveled up your legs. ”I want you so bad.” He breathed down your shirt. You felt dizzy from his confession.

The night was a blur and a passion. It was just you and him making fiery love until you bother were sore and tired. You didn't even remember falling asleep. Your last memory was you screaming his name as you had the strongest body trembling orgasm ever. It was just you and him for who knows how long. Nothing separating you. Nothing holding you back from what you always wanted to do. You woke up that morning alone and cold. No clothes, no blanket, and no Tommy. You looked around the house but didn't find him or note anywhere, so you took and a nice hot bath and waited. You waited for him to come back. You wait for him to call. You waited for days. ***

You felt abandoned. You put yourself out there. You told him how you felt and you thought he felt the same way. It was obvious that he regretted what happened. Why else would he be hiding from you? That night you found yourself crying. You felt stupid for crying because of a guy, but you couldn't help yourself. If you would have known this was going to be the outcome you would have stopped him. It was painful. Rejection hurt, especially after coming so fucking close. After having a taste of what could have been. When the morning came you washed the tears off your face and got dressed and went on with your life. There was no more time to be wasted being sad. You were determined not to let this keep you down which was harder said than done. You pushed through your day and work and even went to the bar afterward. It was hard going back to the same house where everything had happened. After a few drinks, you went home and were horrified with what you found... who you found. "I heard you were looking for me," Thomas said leaning against your front door with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. "No shit." You crossed your arms over your chest. This man knew how to get you fired up. "You shouldn't curse. It's not very ladylike." He put his cigarette out with his shoe and walked closer to you. “Fuck you.”

You wanted to smack him for talking to you like that after he had disappeared for a few days after what had happened between you two. You almost did smack him but then you saw his face. His eyes were red and he had bags under his eyes like he hadn't been to sleep in days. Then you smelled him. He reeked of booze and cigarette smoke. He clothes where sloppy and his hair was tossed all over his head. He reminded you of a crazy drunk. "Are you okay?" You quickly made your way to his side wondering how he was able to stand in the state he was in. "Yes." He clearly lied not looking at you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "You should go home." You didn't feel like being lied to and if you were honest with yourself just looking at him made your heart hurt more. "Why were you looking for me?" He asked ignoring what you had said. "Why do you think?" You both knew why you were looking for him, but he didn't respond. "Why did you leave?" You were straight to the point. You wanted answers... you needed answers. "I didn't know what to say." You thought of a million things that he could have said; starting with 'I love you too' or ' I don't love you'. At least you would have known where he stood. "Do you love me?" Your voice shook as you asked. You were unsure if you could handle a blatant rejection. For the first time that night he looked at you. He truly looked at you. He saw your tired red eyes. He saw how you half-ass got dressed. He saw that you wore flats instead of work heels. He saw that your hair was a mess and barely put together. He saw what he had done to you... what he was doing to you. Looking at you made a tear escape from one of his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you." He muttered still looking at you. "Then don't." You brushed the tear off of his face. "Do you love me, Thomas?" "Of course I do." He took your hand into his own. He never realized how soft your touch was until that moment. "Then why did you leave?" "Fuck [Y/N]. I'm Thomas fucking Shelby. Head of the Peaky Blinders. Nothing I do is legal. There's no room for love in my life. Hell, I thought about throwing it all away. All for you." "I'm not asking for you to throw anything away. I love you for you." “I know love, but I want to be a better man for you. It's terrifying." "Thomas Shelby terrified?" You smiled at him. "Damn right." He said proudly. "I'll never be good enough for you [Y/N]." "You already are." You pulled him down into a kissed. He kissed you hard not with lust but with love. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“Marry me?” He asked. You laughed and pulled away.

“We haven’t even started dating.”

“Marry me.” He repeated staring into your eyes.

“What about Grace?”

“To hell with Grace. I only ever talked about her to make you jealous.” He placed a hand on your check.

“You bastard.” You wanted to be mad, but you only felt joy.

“I love you.” He said getting down on one knee. He pulled a ring out of his coat pocket. It was a smile gold ring with a small oval Sapphire with a smaller diamond on each side. “It was my grandmothers. I was scared I lost you and I never want to feel that way again. Will you marry me?”

“Of course.”

[lankylevi]

Rating: E Pairing: Levi/Eren Chapter word count: 3k Tags: Modern au, Blind date, Strangers to Lovers, Policer officer Levi, Barista Eren, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Top Levi, Power Bottom Eren

Summary: Despite Eren's previous attempts at getting Mikasa on board with the fact that he’s perfectly happy being single, she still took things into her own hands and set up a blind date for him. A modern day, blind date (gone wrong) au.

Note: This is the fourth and (for now,) final chapter, a big thank you to my wonderful beta, and friend, @i-am-verybusy. Couldn’t have done this without you, babe.

Previous chapters: chapter 1, chapter 2 and chapter 3 on tumblr.

Read on AO3 or below.

It has been two weeks since their first official date and Eren, being the overanalyzing little shit that he is, paces nervously in front of the restaurant.

Twenty minutes, Levi is already twenty minutes late. No call, no text. Nothing. No warning that he’ll be running late, or something last minute came up. Is he being stood up?

No, Jaeger. Levi wouldn’t do that. Or would he? Fuck. Shit.

Biting his bottom lip, peeling the dry skin till the point he’s surely drawing blood, he decides to dial Levi’s number. Trying his best to ignore the pitiful stares he’s getting from the couples entering Il Giardino.

“Come on, come on, come on.” He taps his foot anxiously, phone cradles between his cheek and shoulder. “Pick up, Levi.”

Voicemail. “Of fucking course.”

He calls again, not giving up just yet. His heart beating faster and faster with every beep, hands trembling as he fumbles with the hem of his coat. Fingertips turning blue from the icy wind.

“Not now, Eyebrows! You fucking- Eren? Hello?”

Eren lets out a long breath, shoulders relaxing as he slumps against the wall. “Hi.”

“I’m so sorry, Eren. Eyebr- Erwin literally threw a shit pile of papers on my dask and I can’t leave this shithole.” Levi breathes heavily in the microphone, frustration clear in his voice. The rummaging of papers not going past Eren’s ears.

Eren licks his lips and sighs. Knowing he shouldn’t feel angry for what happened, but disappointment twists his stomach upside down. “Uhuh, you could’ve at least called me. I’ve been standing here in front of the restaurant for almost half an hour, Levi.”

“I know… I’m so sorry, love. Let me make it up to you. I’ll take you somewhere nice next time.”

“I don’t want a next time,” Eren spits out, slapping his hand on his forehead when he realizes how awful that just sounded. Shaking his head, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I mean, I want to see you now. That came out wrong.”

Levi exhales sharply. “Jesus, my pen almost snapped in half. Don’t say shit like that unless you want to kill me.”

“It has been two weeks already,” Eren continues.

“Please don’t pout, I’ll drop by your place tonight. I’ll bring some wine, how does that sound?”

Eren smiles sheepishly, blush creeping onto his cheeks and hiding it under his scarf. This will be the first time Levi will see his place and his heart beats so fast he feels like a bubbly teenager all over again. “Better. You have my address?”

“Yes. I really have to go now, Eren. Eyebrows is ready to fucking riot. See you tonight, I’m really sorry.”

Rolling his eyes, he cannot help but chuckle under his breath. “Cute. See you tonight.”

Before Levi has time to argue, Eren hangs up the phone and walks back to his car, ready to drive home and make sure his apartment is spotless.

Leaning against the doorframe, blocking the way through, Eren grins, “Oh, well hello, Mister Food Inspector.”

“Brat.” Levi mutters but gives him a quick peck on his cheek.

Clamping his jaw shut, Eren barely keeps himself from gaping at him. Levi looking like a fine piece of ass in his uniform. Control yourself, Jaeger. Play it cool.

“Now, now. Is that a way to talk to your date who you stood up earlier? That’s bad customer service. I’m going to have to give you a bad review.”

Smiling subtly, Levi’s eyes narrow. “Then it won’t matter if I give you this bottle of wine either, right?”

“Fine.” Eren says and moves to the side, admitting his defeat and granting Levi access to his place. “Welcome to my humble apartment. Take your shoes o-, okay you already took your shoes off.”

Levi grins back as he hangs up his coat. “Can’t dirty your place when you’ve obviously been cleaning.”

Dumbfounded, Eren blankly stares at him. Accepting the bottle of red wine as his mouth hangs wide open, almost offended.

“It smells like cleaning products.” Levi explains as he makes his way further through the small hallway and inside the rest of the apartment. “My nose never lies. Actually, that’s Mike’s line.”

“Mike?” Eren asks and gestures Levi to sit down on the sofa in the left corner, that certain warmth he always feels when Levi is around calming his nerves. He sets the bottle on the kitchen counter and takes two wine glasses out of the cupboard.

Levi hums, “Mike is a police veteran as we call them. That nose of his is freakishly accurate. Better than a fucking dog’s.”

Eren chuckles, excitement bubbling in his stomach everytime Levi tells him more about his job. So far, he knows ‘Eyebrows’ is Erwin, Levi’s boss. Then you have Moblit, who’s always anxious except when shit goes down, who is actually dating the waitress who served them on their, accidental, date. Now Mike, a veteran who has a strange, but apparently very useful asset. “So, that Mike, please tell me he has a huge nose.”

Levi laughs, tilting his head to the side and accepts his glass of Chianti as Eren sits down next to him. “The fucking biggest you’ll ever see.”

“I’d love to meet your coworkers someday.” Eren blurts out and instantly curses himself, cheeks heating up.

Nice way to go, Jaeger. Push yourself into his damn life.

Watching Eren out of the corner of his eyes, smirking, Levi takes a sip of his wine. “We have a monthly night out with the squad.”

Eren bites his lip, avoiding the cop’s watchful gaze. “So, that means…”

Levi sighs and places a hand on Eren’s thigh, squeezing it lightly. “Do I have to spell this out for you?”

“Probably.” Eren shrugs.

Rolling his eyes, Levi takes a hold of Eren hand and looks him straight in the eye. Piercing blue meeting ocean green. “Join me next time.”

Cheeks turning crimson, Eren quickly downs his drink. The first gulp lightly burns his throat and the warmth spreads through his torso. Damn this stuff is strong.

“Easy there.” Levi laughs but adds more to Eren’s glass once it’s empty. “Tastes good?”

“Yeah.” Eren smiles sheepishly and holds the glass with two hands, afraid he’s going to stain the couch, or worse, spill his wine on Levi and dirty his uniform. Speaking of his uniform, it wasn’t exactly like he had imagined it would be. He had thought the fabric would be light blue, but it was a dark navy colour and so were his pants. It actually looked like a jumpsuit if he had to be honest, but the thought that Levi fought crime in this attire, was more than his little gay heart could take.

“Eren?”

Lost in thought, Eren shakes his head, trying to stop his sinful imagination. “Sorry, what?”

“Do you want to go minigolf next time?” Levi repeats, pronouncing every word.

Eren’s brows furrow. “I didn’t think you’d be the type of guy to enjoy minigolf.”

Levi shrugs, “I’m usually not, but Shitty Glasses wants to double date and I thought you might, uhm, enjoy it.”

Levi bites his lip and Eren is ready to combust on the spot. Was Levi actually nervous? It’s cutest thing he has ever seen. “I’d love to. It’s a date.”

Smiling contently, Levi takes out his phone and texts his friend, Eren guesses.

He drinks the rest of his wine. Seriously this stuff was delicious. Smooth, warm, leaving him all tingly; he should really write the name of the brand down. He pours himself another glass and inspects the bottle. Squinting when he can’t seem to read the label. Oh well.

“Wait a second, Eren. Don’t drink it so fast.”

Eren cocks his head to the side. “Hmm? Why not?”

Shaking his head, Levi takes Eren’s glass out of his hands and places it on the small coffee table next to the sofa. “You’ll end up drunk if you drink another glass of this. It’s pretty strong if you’re not used to drinking it regularly.”

“Oh, I see.” Eren lowers his gaze, biting his lip. Slightly embarrassed if he has to admit.

“Hey,” Levi says and cups Eren’s burning cheeks with both hands. “I wouldn’t mind if you were drunk, theoretically, but it would be a shame if I couldn’t touch you tonight.”

Eren blinks briefly, breath hitching in his throat. Did Levi really just say those words? This must be a dream.

Without any warning, he leans forward and hesitantly locks their lips together, testing the waters before he pulls away.

The kiss seemed to ignite something inside of them that had been locked up ever since they day they met as they start devouring each other. Teeth clashing and tongues colliding and desperate for control as Eren runs his hand through Levi’s hair, scraping his undercut before he entangles his fingers into his dark locks. Moaning when Levi’s hands slither under his shirt and over his naked torso, feeling like fire on his skin.

“Bedroom.” Levi orders between pants and kisses, and raises both of them off the coach. Eren’s legs firmly wrap around his waist. “Which way?”

Eren shamelessly ruts his hips against Levi’s stomach and moans when the cop grazes his teeth over his jawline and attacks his neck, sucking on his sweet spot. “Hallway. Right door.”

They stumble into the room but Levi manages to drop Eren down gently on top of the bed. Wasting no time to get rid of his own shirt as he straddles Eren’s hips and kisses his neck again. Licking a hot stripe over his pulsepoint before he nips at the sensitive skin and grinds it between his teeth.

Eren moans at the attention, hands roaming over Levi’s abs, hips jutting upwards. Creating the much-needed friction they’ve both been craving. “F- Fuck.”

Levi quickly gets rid of Eren’s shirt and jeans, leaving him in his boxers as he throws the rest on the floor. Giving Eren no time to collect himself as he runs the flat of his tongue over the defined length, fabric rough on his tongue.

“Oh my God.” Eren moans and entangles his fingers into Levi’s hair. Breath hitching at the back of his throat when Levi lowers his boxers. Taking the elastic between his teeth, pulling it down and freeing his cock from its confinement.

Levi glances at Eren, giving him the time to say ‘stop’ if he wants to, and waits for his cue.

Nodding his head, all air leaves Eren’s lungs when Levi takes him fully into his mouth. Cock hitting the back of his throat before he starts bobbing his head up and down, running his tongue over the underside of his length. Fuck he’s really good. If he keeps it up like this he’s going to come within minutes. Shit.

Levi releases him with a pop, “Uhm, Eren?”

Confused, Eren raises his head off the mattress. Heavy lidded and panting harshly. “Huh?”

“I think we have an audience.”

“What?” Eren asks before he looks at the open door. His cat wagging its tail in the doorframe. Shrieking, he quickly covers himself with his hands. “Oh my God, Titan!”

“Titan?” Levi’s eyes falter between Eren and his overly curious cat. “Please don’t tell me he likes to watch.”

Groaning, Eren pinches the bridge of nose and wiggles free from under Levi’s hold. “No, he’s just- I don’t know. I have no explanation for this.” He sighs and gets up from the bed, completely embarrassed and shoos his cat away. “Get out, you damn mood killer.”

Damned cat.

After closing the door, he turns his attention back to Levi and briefly forgets how to breathe. The cop is leaning against the bedframe, moonlight shining straight onto his abs and making Eren’s mouth water.

“Eren?”

He shakes his head, grateful Levi probably won’t be able to see him blushing uncontrollably.” Sorry, I got distracted.”

Levi lets out a puff of air and smirks. “I take that as a compliment. Now come back here.”

“It was meant as such.” Eren winks and crawls on the bed, chuckling under his breath. Lips teasingly brushing over Levi’s lips as he straddles his waist.

“Really now?” Levi purrs and latches onto Eren’s neck in response, leaving a sloppy suck under his ear and nips at his jawline. “I could’ve sworn I saw you blush like an idiot.”

Eren lets his head lull back, eyes rolling back into his skull when Levi slowly starts stroking his cock. He licks his lips, “Nope. Maybe you need to get your eyes checked. “

Chuckling lowly in Eren’s ear, Levi gives him a few quick pumps before he massages the two round globes of his ass. Fingers ghost between his cheeks.

Taking the hint, Eren leans to his side and rummages through the nightstand. Taking out a bottle of lube and a condom, and placing it on the bed.

“Eager are we?” Levi smirks smugly.

Eren grins and bites his lip. “Very. Now, get me ready.”

“Ohh, bossy bottom huh?” Levi wets his lips and pours a gentle amount of lube on his fingers. Coating them, rubbing them together to warm up the mixture and wasting no time to start teasing Eren’s hole. “I like that.”

Eren, now long past the point of feeling any shame, lets out a high-pitched moan when Levi’s slick digit breaches his entrance. Always loving that burning stretch, he pushes down and starts rolling his hips while kissing Levi, moaning and panting heavily against his mouth when he adds a second finger.

“Fucking hell, Eren. You’re fucking gorgeous,” Levi groans and keeps thrusting his fingers in and out his tight hole.

Eren smiles lazily, hands falling onto Levi’s shoulders, looking for leverage, when he pushes down onto his prostate. Abusing it to the point he can’t think straight and turns into a blabbering, whining mess. Panting Levi’s name against his lips. “Levi. More. ”

“More?” Levi teases and withdraws his fingers, leaving Eren’s hole twitching and empty.

Before Eren has time to protest, Levi slides his cock between his cheeks. Slick with lube and precome.

“Fuck.” Eren curses and snaps his head forward, eyes boring into Levi’s skull, he loses his patience. “Yes. More.”

Eyes wide and mouth hanging open, Levi watches Eren reach for the condom and rip the wrapper open with his teeth.

He reaches behind him, skillfully rolling the latex over Levi’s engorged cock and gives a few, efficient pumps.

Levi shudders and Eren loses his last piece of self-restraint when he sees the cop briefly lose himself to pleasure. So fucking hot.

Drizzling a generous amount of lube on his palm, Eren slicks up Levi’s length. Wasting no time to line Levi’s cock up with his entrance and pushing his hips down. He bites his lip to the point he’s almost breaking the skin, loving that mixture of pleasure and pain as his hole burns from adjusting to Levi’s thick length.

Levi lets out a low moan when he’s seated all the way inside. Black strands of hair plastered across his forehead, pink hue colouring his cheeks. “Going to ride me, huh?”

“I always like a challenge.” Eren grins and maneuvers his body so his nails are digging into Levi’s thighs, keeping him steady as he snaps his hips up, only to slam down again. “Shit.”

Levi sucks in a sharp breath when Eren starts rolling his hips in earnest, setting up a bruising pace that’ll leave his hole sore for days. He grips onto Eren’s hips and starts thrusting upwards. Meeting every snap of Eren’s hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the entire room.

Despite his knees trembling, feeling as if they’re going to snap under the force of his thrusts, Eren keeps bouncing on Levi’s lap. All air leaving his body when Levi wraps his hand around his throbbing length, stroking him in unison with his unforgiving pace. Heat starting to pool in the pit of stomach, warning for his fast approaching climax. “Fuck, I’m-“

“Me too,” Levi rasps, fingers digging so hard in Eren’s thighs they’ll surely be leaving marks. “fuck, Eren.”

Suddenly, Levi’s hips stutter and his eyes roll back. He calls out Eren’s name with a sprained cry and it’s enough to push over the edge as well. His release splashing hot between them and onto the cop’s chest.

Catching his breath, Eren lets his body fall down on Levi’s torso, not caring about the mess. Levi’s softening cock slipping out of him as they lay together, panting heavily, eyes fluttering shut.

It’s dawn when Eren awakes, sun shining bright onto his face through the open curtain. He’s tucked in bed, clean, and with his boxers back on. The smell of coffee and something sweet filling up his nostrils.

It takes him a moment to recollect his thoughts, the vivid images of last night flashing before his eyes.

With a proud grin, he gets up from the bed and shuffles towards his living room, finding Levi cooking breakfast in nothing but sweatpants. Wait, were that his sweats?

“’Morning.” Levi nods and Eren cannot help but smirk when he sees the trail of purple lovebites across his neck.

Biting his lip, Eren winks. “’Morning.” He leans onto the kitchen counter, not caring about the morning wood he sports in his boxers. Quirking an eyebrow when Levi hands him a steaming cup of coffee. “Coffee? Really?”

Levi shakes his head, smirking smugly. “Just try it.”

Brows furrowing, Eren takes a sip of his cup. Eyes widening as the liquid rolls over his tongue, tickling his taste buds. “One question. How?”

“Would you believe me if I said I used to be a barista back in college?” Levi grins and leans his back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“Nuhuh.” Eren stares at him with open mouth. “You’re lying. You hate coffee.”

“A policeman never lies,” Levi retorts quickly, clearly enjoying himself, “and put some clothes on, that dick is too tempting.”

Eren grins and swirls around, swaying his hips as he strolls towards his bedroom. A mischievous smirk curling on his lips when he hears Levi curse under his breath and follow his footsteps.

Instagram Ko-fi

[starfiretheninja]

Birthday Surprise

This was a request by an anon and I was happy to tackle my favorite gravity falls ship. Thank you so much for your patience and I hope that you enjoy it!

~

“Do I even want to know where this came from?” Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose, already suspecting that this enormous pastry was Mabel’s doing. 

Before him was a multi-tiered cake that towered a foot or so above him with a circumference wide enough to feed the denizens of Gravity Falls. The colors were primarily red and blue blending into purple with other interspersed shades. Inspecting it closer, he quickly found that the pattern was hastily frosted on with no rhythm or rhyme to it. Almost as if it was designed by someone obsessed with spontaneity. However, the frosting looked like it came from a fine French bakery. Almost as if only someone with some affluence could afford this. . .

“Wait a minute. . .”

Not a moment later did he hear a smothered click!, a brief sizzle, and in an instant the cake bursted into a million gooey fragments. Nothing in the backyard was untainted by the explosive pastry, from the windows of the house to Dipper’s socks. Sucking in a breath, Dipper attempted to keep some semblance of dignity intact as he drew his hand upwards and swiped away a large glob of cake off of his cheek. 

Looking up, Dipper realized that where the cake once stood was a mess of poster board and firework shells. The structure soon gave way, and Dipper’s peeved expression fell away as the fallen poster board revealed a cheeky looking Pacifica Northwest. That alone nearly made Dipper’s jaw drop. He couldn’t believe that she had come all the way to California. And on such short notice before classes started again. She looked dazzling in her lavender knee-length dress with off the shoulder straps and a ribbon draped around her waist, all accentuated by her loose platinum hair and confident smile. And. . . was that a cigar clenched between her teeth? A lit cigar?!

“Not that I’m not absolutely thrilled to see you, but why do you have a cigar? I thought you didn’t like those,” Dipper began, not entirely sure what to believe. 

“It was my dad’s birthday gift to me. I figured the best way to get back at him was to use it for my peasant boyfriend’s birthday surprise so he couldn’t get mad at me for ‘not appreciating his generosity’,” Pacifica responded mischievously. “And while I’m using this. . .” Taking a drag, she let out a perfectly crafted smoke ring. She then gracefully lifted her hand and snapped her fingers at the top of the ring, causing it to collapse into a smoky heart shape. Dipper felt a mixture of pride for his rebellious girlfriend and distaste for her father’s lack of consideration. 

“How long did it take you to perfect that smoke form?” was the only thing Dipper could manage.

“Just now. I wasn’t about to let this puppy go to waste with practice.” With that, Pacifica dug the butt of the cigar and drove it into the platform under her feet to put out the flame. “Now with that out of the way, let’s celebrate your birthday, Dipper.” 

Pacifica drew a case out of her purse, tucked the cigar into it, and stashed the gift away into her purse. Popping a breath mint into her mouth, she then held out her hand to Dipper.

“Come on, I’ve got the whole day planned out,” she smiled softly.

Snapping out of his stupor, Dipper eagerly took her hand, then wrapped his other arm around her to give her a much needed hug. 

“I can’t wait.”

~

To start off, Pacifica treated Dipper to lunch at the nearby diner that he always mentioned to her. 

“I see your point, this does look a lot like Greasy’s. Except this place probably actually has an inspector come through every so often,” Pacifica commented upon stepping into the busy restaurant. 

“I haven’t gotten food poisoning here yet,” Dipper said, referring to a certain incident from last summer when he visited Gravity Falls. “Plus, everything’s affordable here.”

“Good. I wasn’t planning on spending the fortune I no longer have on one meal,” Pacifica snarked, as she thumbed through the menu. Dipper took the moment to admire her. Despite the shock of losing her family’s inheritance, she clearly rose to the occasion and worked to build a savings for herself. And she was taking what she was able to earn to give Dipper an awesome day. He couldn’t appreciate that more.  

Pacifica noticed her boyfriend’s loving stare and raised an eyebrow knowingly.

“Yes?”

“I’ve told you how awesome you are right?” Dipper toed his foot to brush her leg.

“Only every other Skype call. But you could always stand to say it more.” Pacifica responded by gently rubbing her leg against his.

Dipper reached his hand across the table and gently took her hand and rested it on the table. 

“Then maybe I’ll say it later,” he said cheekily. Pacifica let out a fake scoff of indignity. 

“And after all I’ve done for you!” she said dramatically. 

“I mean, you haven’t paid for dinner yet.”

“We’ll see if I still feel like paying after you’ve actually ordered something.” 

The two parted hands once their food arrived, but continued playing footsie throughout their meal. Pacifica smiled deviously to herself, reveling in getting away with being publicly affectionately with her boyfriend with her parents in the next state over. 

~

“Remind me again why you asked Mabel to arrange the scavenger hunt?” Dipper asked as he did his best to hold steady. This task was growing increasingly difficult as Pacifica, who was sitting on his shoulders, pushed harder on the top of his head to reach for the next clue sitting precariously on the tree branch. 

“I don’t live here, so how would I know where to actually put the clues. Aha!” she laughed triumphantly as she finally caught the slip of paper between her fingers. “And would this be nearly as fun if you didn’t get to lift up your gorgeous girlfriend?”

“I’m just more afraid of what my parents would say to your parents if they saw you scandalously exposing to much leg in front of me,” Dipper joked, referring to her hiked up dress so Dipper could lift her up. He lowered himself to the ground in a crouching position. Pacifica gracefully swung off of him and straightened out her dress. 

“You’ve seen me in a bathing suit before,” she pointed out. 

“That’s different. But I’m glad I can lift you up like the princess you are.”

“Darn right you are. Now let’s figure out where Mabel will send us next.”

~

“Okay! Glad we’re out of that mess!” Dipper wheezed. Attempting to climb through the various attractions at Mr. Fuzzbert’s Arcadia past all of the clearly unsanitary tunnels was difficult enough, but digging around in the perfume department where half of the employees recognized Pacifica as a Northwest and viciously attempting to upsell her their products was a place they never thought they’d get through. 

“So help me if one more girl sprays me with a free sample. . .” Pacifica started, but stopped short. “Wait, there’s the fountain!”

The two joyfully rushed to, what was hopefully, their final destination: the water fountain in the middle of the mall. They immediately scrambled to find the right carved in pattern on the outer ring. 

“The clue said the unicorn, right?” Pacifica asked frantically, hoping their nightmare would soon come to an end.

“When Mabel says a sparkly, violent horse, she definitely means unicorn,” Dipper answered, still circling the fountain. “Here it is!”

He pushed on the pattern. The stone slid backwards, then sideways to reveal a secret compartment as Pacifica hurried to his side. Reaching his hand inside cautiously, Dipper pulled out a package wrapped in tinfoil.

“This is a weird wrapping for Mabel to use,” Dipper wondered aloud.

“That’s actually mine,” Pacifica said.

“Really? I would have thought you would have used hot pink or something.”

“I used it to protect your gift from the aliens.”

“I found an actual spaceship with Ford, you know.”

“But you never showed me, so it’s still a conspiracy theory.”

“Oh har har, very funny. . .” Dipper trailed off as he ripped apart the foil to reveal his gift. He then proceeded to let out a very girly shriek, causing passerby to look on in concern. 

“Nowayisthisreally-” 

“The Tome of the Truskian civilization, yes.” Pacifica had remembered Dipper grumbling about one of the items that the Stans had found on their world-touring adventures, but they refused to let their great-nephew look at it for fear of a curse on it. However, from what Soos reported from spending time around them upon their return was that the curse seemed to have been suppressed once more by Ford’s quick thinking. So long as Dipper didn’t stain the paper with the blood of royalty from the ruling class of the Truskian empire, he would probably be fine.

“How did you get this away from Ford and Grunkle Stan?! They banned me from ever even touching this!”

“Let’s just say it took a little sweet talking and breaking and entering,” Pacifica said cryptically. “I distracted them with a cheesy song and dance at Greasy’s while Wendy swiped it from the Shack and planted a fake.”

“You really do love me,” Dipper teared up, holding the book to his chest and drawing Pacifica close with his free arm.

“The things I do for you,” Pacifica sighed contently as she wrapped her arms around Dipper’s shoulders.

~

The pair finally arrived at the beach at sunset and located the tucked away corner that Mabel had secured for them earlier. The setup was complete with a large towel, a cooler, and a flashlight for the two to read the tome together. Mabel had also taken the liberty to surround the area with pink rose petals.

“I didn’t ask for the petals, but I’ll accept them,” Pacifica resigned, hoping that Dipper wouldn’t get too flustered by the romantic additions. 

“At least she didn’t cover them in glitter,” Dipper joked, trying to suppress a certain evening that Mabel had stuck her creative hands into. 

Cozying up together, the couple watched the sunset fade into a fiery gold color. With no company other than the ebb and flow of the ocean, it didn’t take long for the two to start making out. In between the desperate kisses, they whispered ‘I missed you’ and “I love you’ over and over again. Knowing that it wouldn’t be long until they were separated again, they held each other tightly. In the midst of the haze, Pacifica remembered her final surprise for Dipper. 

“Mason,” she whispered. 

“Hmm,” Dipper hummed, knowing that the use of his name always meant that she was being serious.

“There’s still one last gift left,” she gestured toward the cooler.

“Can’t it wait a little longer?” he whined, unwilling to let her go.

“Normally, I would want to kiss you longer. But I’m pretty sure the beach closes after sunset and I don’t want to get chased out by cops before the grand finale.”

“I suppose so,” Dipper sighed, releasing her. “So what do you have in there?”

“Just a little something I picked up outside the county.” Pacifica proceeded to pull a massive heap of fireworks out of the cooler and placed in carefully on the beach, angling it upwards towards the sky. 

“I’ll. . . pack everything up. We’ll need to run after setting that thing off,” Dipper noted, as fireworks were highly illegal in his county. As he neatly folded the blanket, Pacifica pulled out a lighter and the remainder of the cigar from her purse. Lighting up the cigar, she gave it a quick puff to ensure that it would stay heated for the moment. Popping a final breath mint into her mouth, she turned to the eager Dipper. 

“Ready?”

“Let’s see what firepower this thing has.”

Pressing the cigar to the fuse, Pacifica watched as her father’s precious gift gave flame to her boyfriend’s final gift of the evening. The fuse began to spark and the two ran a few meters away, both plugging their ears and giggling hysterically. The fireworks shot up into the air all at once, breaking off into two segments. One firework exploded, letting out a bang! and formed the shape of a constellation very familiar to Dipper. The other popped and sizzled immediately afterwards and formed a purple heart.

“Whoa! Pacifica that was. . .” Dipper started, a dopey grin on his face. He turned to Pacifica, who raised her eyebrow expectantly. Dipper threw his arms around her.

“Incredible. You really are the best girlfriend.” Dipper kissed her cheek affectionately, hoping he could demonstrate just how grateful he was that she would take the time to track down a Big Dipper firework just for him.

“For you, it was more than worth it,” Pacifica smiled, burying her face into his chest. Dipper had brought so much adventure and joy into her life. The least she could do for him was to give him a special day. Pulling back, she said, “Now let’s book it before we get into trouble. But first. . .” 

Digging the cigar into the sand to put it out, Pacifica gracefully tossed it into the nearby garbage can as the two ran hand in hand from the now crime scene.

“Thanks, Dad. Your gift came in handy after all.”

[commanderquill]

Anything Can Be -- Part Two

<< PART ONE

PART THREE >>

Summary: Barry doesn't know much beyond the space station he calls home. After all, he doesn't have to travel worlds to help innocent people as a Chief Inspector on Central Space Station. But he's put to the test when a Green Lantern, the stuff of myths and legends, shows up one night insisting he didn't kill the Blue Lantern bleeding out beside him. And as if that wasn't hard enough, they have only a few weeks to solve the case -- before the Guardians of the Universe come take Hal Jordan away.

When Barry gets to J Deck, he finds that most people have already left their stations. It’s time for the day’s switch, as people clock out early and their replacements clock in late. It’s disorienting to see people getting started on their work when Barry is just about ready to retire for the night. Even still he sometimes forgets that there’s an entire second life to the space station he’s never encountered.

“Hey, Patty,” he says, beelining for her desk, grateful to see that she hasn’t left yet. She’s ruffling through one of her drawers, no doubt trying to locate some file she buried there last week. Patty is more unorganized than he is, and that’s saying a lot.

“Hey,” she says, glancing up briefly to smile at him. “Mr. Nightlight is in interrogation room nine. Albert just finished getting a DNA sample.” She returns to her work. Barry shuts his mouth,  as she’d already answered the question he was about to ask. It makes him feel awkward, now that he’s walked all the way up to her desk but no longer has anything to say. He tries a different tactic.

“Would you believe me if I told you I just wanted to see if you were free tomorrow?”

She pauses only to send him the most straight look, her short blonde hair swinging slightly in front of her face.

“No?”

“No.” She’s right, but guilt twists in his gut, and he’s about to protest until she smiles and says, “You’re a workaholic, Bar. But so am I.”

He matches her smile hesitantly. “We really should catch up sometime, though,” he says.

“Convince chief to give us a damn break and I’ll happily take you up on that. I’ve been meaning to show you this sad excuse for a cooking show that I’m streaming from Galafro. Can’t understand a word of it, but I’m pretty sure what they call food was never meant to be consumed.” She gives him a shark’s grin as he backpedals away from her.

“Sounds gross,” he says with a wrinkle of his nose.

“That’s the point!” she calls after him as he turns the corner.

The interrogation rooms are a series of nine rooms set up in a half-circle on the police station’s perimeter. Each room is remarkably soundproof but only separated by one wall, making it quick work to pass them all to room nine at the very end.

When he enters, the Green Lantern stares him down. It’s almost unnerving, to be on the other end of that stare. He’s seen suspects in a wide range of emotions, from desperate to pissed, when they sit in this room. Intensity tends to come along with those. But it’s never intensity like this, of the eager and quiet kind. Barry nods at him. “Hi,” he says lamely.

“You’re a CSI,” the Green Lantern says immediately. “What are you doing here? Someone already took a piece of my hair.”

“My name is Barry Allen. I’m the Chief Inspector of this station, and I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“I didn’t do it,” the Green Lantern insists immediately. “I--”

“Okay.”

That stops the Green Lantern in his tracks. But instead of looking relieved, he seems to grow even more suspicious. “If you know that, then why am I still here?”

“You’re a cop, right? Or something like it, anyway.” He holds the Lantern’s eyes as he slowly pulls out a chair and sits down across from him. He sets his messenger bag on the table and pulls his tablet out from the smallest compartment.

“That’s not an answer.”

“You’re our only suspect. If you don’t want to remain our only suspect, I suggest you cooperate and answer my questions.”

He doesn’t say anything. Barry flips his notepad open to a blank page. “Let’s start with the basics. What’s your name?”

“...Guy Gardner. G-U-Y. G-A-R-D-N-E-R.”

Barry spells it out on the top of his notes. “Okay, Mr. Gardner. Why don’t you tell me how you know Miss…?”

“Sister Sercy.”

“Right.”

“She’s a--” Abruptly, Gardner stops and declares: “Wait. I want a lawyer.”

Barry frowns at him. “Are you trying to sue someone?”

“What? No,” Gardner says, frustrated. “But I have the right to an attorney.”

“No you don’t,” Barry says, carefully. “Who told you that?”

Gardner takes a moment to curse under his breath. “No one. Nevermind. Okay, so. I know Sercy because she’s the fourth or something Blue Lantern, and I--”

His pencil stops, and he just barely refrains from snapping his head up to look at Gardner. “Blue Lantern?” he says, as neutrally as possible, but he doesn’t think he quite succeeds.

“Yeah,” Gardner says, unfazed.

“Explain.”

Gardner frowns. “You people know about Green Lanterns and the color yellow, but you’ve never heard of a Blue Lantern?”

Rumors. He’s heard rumors, starting maybe just two years ago, about new Lanterns flying through the cosmos. No one knew where they came from. No one knew what they could do. Once, there was a whisper of a Red Lantern. He heard it while in the middle of a crowd, so quiet he’d thought he’d imagined it, of destruction and devastation wrought on a planet stranded on the fringes of Lantern inhabited space.

When there’s no response forthcoming, Gardner says, “Hope,” like that answers every question he’s ever had. Before he can ask another, the Lantern continues: “Sercy was a priestess, I think, on… wherever she came from. Brother Hymn found her and brought her to Elpis, and I met her when I went to see that little blue troll for a thing. There aren’t a lot of Blue Lanterns, and they’re help like no other against the Reds and Yellows, so when we team up they all tag along. I guess you could call us coworkers.”

Barry occupies himself by writing on his notepad, because the alternative would be staring blankly at Gardner. What is this, a Lantern rainbow? “It doesn’t seem like you were very close, then,” he comments when he’s done.

“Uh, no, not really. We ran into each other here.”

“Start from the beginning.”

“Right. Well, I was on my way to Oa, and like I said, I ran into her in this star system. Our paths intersected, I think she was heading back to Elpis. We decided to rest up here so we could catch up a little. She wasn’t in a hurry and I was procrastinating, so we got rooms and went to the lounge. We were both on the figurative road for a while. Space travel, even with a ring as fast as ours, still takes super long, and there isn’t a habitable planet for light years after this stop.”

He brings his hands up, goes to grip his hair with his fingers and remembers that they’re in a yellow sheath. He stiffly  lowers them back down to the table.

“But I couldn’t sleep yet, and I went to go see if maybe her sleep schedule was just as fucked as mine, and I just… I found her. Like… that. Dead. Outside her own cabin… Fuck.” He crosses his arms on the table and drops his forehead onto where they meet. Despite the position, his next words are still clear. “I’m used to shit like this. She was too. This line of work, it’s dangerous. And I’ve always been in this line of work, even before becoming a space cop. But we let our guard down in times of peace. Even I do. War is different. You go to war expecting to die, because if you end up living, then you get to actually celebrate something that isn’t your buddy’s funeral. But in peace…” He scoffs. It’s a full-body effort. “Peace. All Will Be Well my ass, SaintWalker.”

“I want you to explain to me what exactly you did next, step by step. If you thought a thought, I want to know what it was. If you stepped an inch to the right, I want to know when. Begin when you’re ready,” he instructs softly, after a moment of respectful silence. Gardner takes a few more seconds just to breathe before lifting his head.

“I walked up the hall. The direction you came from. I saw her laying on the ground, and… I knew she was dead. I couldn’t see the blood on the ground at first, though. She was too far away. So I walked over to her and it was just… everywhere. I wanted to check if maybe there was a chance at saving her, so I asked the ring to scan for signs of life, and it came back negative. So I turned her back over  and tried to take the knife out. She… I couldn’t leave her like that. A Blue Lantern, killed by a fucking knife. That’s just… It’s wrong.”

“Have either of you been here before?”

“I have. This is the perfect place for a quick stop between far space and Oa. But I don’t know about Sercy. Blue Lanterns are notorious for never leaving Elpis. They’re like monks. They don’t like to travel, just live in peace and harmony by themselves. She seemed to know her way around, though.”

“Do you know who might dislike her? Something she mentioned, maybe?”

Gardner shakes his head. “No. She’s a private person. Blue Lanterns in general are relentless optimists. They don’t like to complain or talk about the bad things that have happened.”

“Did she ever tell you where her cabin was?”

“Yeah. How else would I have found her?”

“And where did she tell you this information?”

“Uh, one of the lounges on G Deck. One of the exterior-facing ones. I could see Docking Port 23 from the window.

“When was this?”

“A few hours ago.”

“Can you tell me anything that stood out to you in that room? Or even just the specific room number?”

“It… might have been L36. Uh…” Barry waits as the Green Lantern thinks. “The barista. He had this long black hair, tied it back in this weird triple bun type deal. Didn’t know what hot chocolate was. He knew Sercy by name, and we were at the bar when she told me. The lounge was pretty crowded, there were people all around us. I don’t remember.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m so stupid. I’m always supposed to be on alert. Kilowog is gonna kick my ass,” he says bitterly.

Barry finishes writing down his notes, then leans back in his chair with a sigh. The day’s grind is catching up to him, and he can feel the heaviness start to settle in his lower back. This kind of work is aging him way faster than he wants to be aging. But his mind is reeling, and he can’t seem to muster up the usual desire to get out of the station and relax on his bed. There’s no mystery as to why. “Who’s Kilowog?” he asks curiously, carefully.

“My drill sergeant,” Gardner says. “A tough-as-nails hardass. Always preaching that I need to keep my eyes peeled for anything. Imagine how good I’d be if I actually listened to him?” There are many other questions he wants to ask, but there’s a line he needs to draw for the sake of professionalism that prevents him from asking. “Did she talk to anyone else at the lounge?”

“No.”

“Was she expecting to meet up with anyone? Did she talk about knowing anyone at the station?”

“No. Just the barista.”

“Where did you go after the lounge?”

“We went our separate ways after the lounge. I went back to my room because I was beat, she went… to the market, I think.”

“You said you couldn’t sleep.”

“What?”

Barry narrows his eyes. “You told me you couldn’t sleep, and that’s why you sought her out. Now you’re saying you went to bed early because you were tired.” Gardner pauses, like he’s either trying to remember saying that or he wasn’t expecting Barry to notice, but Barry didn’t get this job by being unobservant. “I have a hard time sleeping sometimes,” he says awkwardly.

Barry doesn’t answer, preferring instead to look on in silence for a while after. Gardner must understand what he’s doing, though, because he doesn’t even fidget.

“Did she say what she was going to get from the market?”

“No.”

“So you have no idea why she was going?”

“I just said that.” “Do you know the barista’s name?”

“No.”

“What time were you there?” “I don’t know. A few hours ago.”

Barry nods curtly, takes a final glance at his notes, then flips the booklet closed. 

“Am I free to go?” Gardner asks, but it’s in a resigned monotone. Barry wonders why he even bothered asking if he knew the answer was going to be no.

“Officer Kin will be through in a moment to show you to your cell. Thank you for your cooperation,” he says, and gets briskly up from his seat. He’s almost out the door when he turns around and takes a last look. The green glow of Gardner’s mask casts a sickly light on his pale cheeks. He looks small sitting there. Nothing like an intergalactic hero. “Mr. Gardner,” he says, and it takes a moment for Gardner to glance up. “If you didn’t do this, I will do everything in my power to help you and bring the real killer to justice.”

Gardner sighs. “Look. You seem like a good guy. I don’t know how the justice system here works, but if it’s anything like where I come from then I just I don’t have that kind of time.”

He must think that Barry is just going to leave after that, because he doesn’t continue. “What do you mean?” he prompts.

“When a Lantern dies, their ring comes off and typically finds a new host. Sometimes it goes back to their central power battery, or wherever the guardian of it dictates. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that no one in this station has spontaneously turned blue and started flying yet?”

Barry shakes his head.

“Then it’s probably on its way to Elpis, directly or through a new Lantern on a nearby planet. When it gets there and the rest of the corps learns that their Lantern is dead, they’ll discover where the ring came from and they’ll come find who’s responsible. I didn’t kill her, Barry. But they won’t wait for your justice system to figure out who the real killer is. Especially not once they tell the little blue trolls on Oa about it. I’d say I have maybe two weeks, if that.”

“I can’t do anything about that. Investigations take time. I’m sure we can negotiate with the… Blue Lanterns when they get here.”

“Blue Lanterns, maybe. But good luck trying to negotiate anything with the Guardians.”

“I’m sure they’ll be reasonable.”

Gardner scoffs, but says nothing more.

Barry has nothing to add to that, so he takes his leave. He shuts the heavy door behind him and stares for a moment, overwhelmed, at the far wall. He looks to his left, where Officer Kin on guard duty isn’t even trying to hide his curiosity. “How fast can you pull up the security footage of all that?” Barry asks. “I think I need to listen to it a few million more times.”