#the question is simply where is it fine to cop out a little and where do we decide to doodle every object in a story despite knowing that

[gailynovelry]

The great thing about being in charge of our own book design stuff is that we can, in fact, decide to go through a ridiculous amount of effort to create custom headers for every chapter.

We've gotten about two thirds of the way through Shadow Herald's headers right now. Downside; every time a chapter takes place in a new location, we have to draw that location. Upside; every time we draw a location, we can reuse it later. My gods do the shop interiors take forever.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

hi! could i request a rosa diaz fic where rosa has a really awful stomachache while she’s at the precinct, but she doesn’t want to admit she doesn't feel good. she keeps trying to work until reader eventually pulls her aside and rosa opens up and tells reader (rosa and reader aren’t dating yet). then reader brings her home and they get all cozy, and reader stays until rosa feels better. at the end rosa finally admits she likes reader and they kiss and its all very fluffy and sweet. tysm!!

Hey, friend! Hope this is what you were looking for. 🥰 This one took me a little longer than usual, but I'm really pleased with how it turned out. And for all you Rosa Diaz fans, get ready because I've got a lot of Rosa requests in my inbox! —illdowhatiwantthanks

Just Playing

Rosa Diaz x fem!reader Warnings: explicit language, cops (duh, but they don't do any cop things), mentions of periods, period pain, implied sex Word count: 2.9k

Summary: You take Rosa back to her apartment after she has a rough day at work thanks to period pains. But you never could have seen where the evening would take you.

Rosa was nearly bent double as she stood at the podium, reading notes from a clipboard on a new drug ring they’d be investigating over the next several weeks. Her teeth were gritted, and she looked for all the world like she could kill someone. Well, she looked more like she could kill someone than usual.

You were good at reading Rosa, better than the rest of the squad. Maybe because your job allowed you more observation time; you were an officer, sure, but you didn’t carry a gun and you didn’t police the streets. You were their digital analyst, doing your own investigations online and finding information for the squad to use in their investigations. As a result, you had a lot of time in the precinct.

You were quieter than the others, more reserved, more observant. You knew that Jake got loud when he got insecure. You knew that simply telling Amy she was doing a good job was enough to stop a spiral in its tracks. You knew that Captain Holt had a fondness for candy canes, so you kept some in your desk drawer all year round, just to pull one out when it seemed like he needed a pick-me-up. But you knew Rosa best of all.

You’d be lying if you said you watched Rosa for solely platonic reasons. She was pretty. She was smart. She worked hard, and she cared about people–no matter how much she tried to act like she didn’t. Best of all, you could make her smile. No one else made her smile. After your first month or so on the job, she started talking to you. At first you were taken aback. Why was she being nice to you!? Why was she approaching you at all!? Rosa didn’t do small talk. She didn’t do politeness for the sake of being nice. It had to be that she actually liked you. You were flattered. As far as you could tell, Rosa didn’t like many people.

She especially didn’t like people today. She was clearly not okay. And you weren’t the only one who could tell.

“Any questions?” Rosa asked, finishing up her presentation, and pressing a hand over her abdomen.

Jake raised his hand and Rosa rolled her eyes.

“What, Jake?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

She glared at him. “Why, fuckface? Do I not look okay?”

“No, no!” he squeaked, hands up in defense. “You look great. Everything’s great. Carry on.”

You fiddled around in your bag, waiting for everyone else to leave the room before approaching Rosa, who leaned heavily on the podium, eyes closed.

You approached her cautiously. After all, Rosa was known for her explosive temper. She’d never exploded at you, but there was a first time for everything you supposed.

“Are you really?” you asked quietly.

“Hmm?” Rosa grumbled, inhaling sharply.

“Feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice was decisive, rough.

You lifted your eyes to study her face. When she finally looked at you–her expression pained, exhausted, embarrassed–you knew. She was not okay. The fact that she’d let you see that she wasn’t okay underlined just how not okay she was.

“What’s going on?” Your voice was low, your posture casual so that no one observing would be able to tell you were concerned about her.

“Cramps.” Her cheeks reddened a bit, and you nodded. She didn’t need to say anything else. You got it. Any woman would get it.

“Why don’t you go home?” you suggested.

“I can’t,” she said tersely, glancing into the squad room to make sure no one was watching you two.

“Rosa,” you scolded her. “It’s not gonna kill you to go home an hour early.”

“No, I mean, I can’t.” She grabbed your arm, and gently pulled you aside to where no one could see. Your stomach did little somersaults, and you felt bad for getting excited when Rosa was clearly in pain. “I tried getting on my motorcycle. It felt like I was being stabbed in the fucking uterus. I’m just gonna call a cab once everyone else heads out.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Rosa raised her eyebrows at you. It’s true, you weren’t normally that blunt. “I’ll take you home. You shouldn’t have to stick around here just being in pain. That’s stupid.”

“No, Y/N, don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.” She started walking away, and this time it was you who grabbed her.

“It’s fine, Rosa. I don’t mind. I’m done with my work for the day. We’re friends, right?”

Rosa looked at you long and hard, like she was thinking through a problem, before nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Okay, then.” You threw your bag over your shoulder. “This is what friends do.”

You started to walk out of the room, swinging your keys around your finger before stopping and turning back to Rosa. “It’ll, uh, be a minute, though. Just so you know. I parked… pretty far away.”

She grinned at you. “Yeah, I heard about that. You don’t use the precinct lot?”

“No! You have to pay for it! I’m not paying for parking at my job.”

“So where do you park then?” Rosa asked, sitting heavily in a chair and spinning.

You shrugged. “Wherever there’s street parking.”

“I’ll give it to you, Y/L/N,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re committed.”

You shot her an awkward, two-finger salute before walking out of the precinct and starting the several-block trek to your parked car.

You were kind of hanging out with Rosa tonight! Sure, she wasn’t feeling well. Sure, she might just be desperate for a ride home. But it counted… right? You’d parked just a block away from a bodega and silently thanked this morning’s parking gods. You picked up an assortment of things, some you knew Rosa liked, some that you’d want when you were on your period. And then, at the last moment as you waited to check out, you grabbed a bouquet of baby’s breath. It always made you feel better to have something pretty to look at. They might be a little too much, but it’s not like you’d gotten her roses or anything. Baby’s breath was a just friends flower? Right?

You threw your shopping bag in the backseat, then zoomed to the precinct for Rosa. You texted her, then waited, growing more nervous by the second. You’d never been alone with Rosa. Not like this, not in an enclosed space that wasn’t work. She sat with you at lunch sometimes or you went out for drinks with everyone after work, but this was different.

Pull yourself together, you thought, taking a deep breath as Rosa opened the passenger door and sat down heavily, leaning her head back.

“You alright?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

She nodded slowly. You waited for her to tell you where to go, but she was quiet.

“Uh… Rosa?”

She glanced at you.

“I kind of need to know where you live.”

Rosa seemed to think deeply about this, then leaned back and said, “Turn left up here. I’ll tell you where to go.”

You put the car in drive and simply followed.

When you pulled up next to Rosa’s building–a pre-war dairy refurbished as lofts–you followed her in quietly, stunned into silence, the bag of bodega groceries swinging at your wrist.

The elevator took you up to the fifth floor, and you couldn’t help but gape at her huge windows, the sealed concrete floor, the top-of-the-line appliances and expensive furniture.

You set the grocery bag on the kitchen island and took it all in, eyes wide.

“No offense or anything, but… how the hell do you live here on a police officer’s salary?”

“I don’t,” Rosa said bluntly, opening her medicine cabinet and rustling around. “I flip old cars in my spare time.”

“Oh.” You were glad Rosa was turned away from you so she couldn’t see you flush bright red at the thought of how she’d look fixing a car.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, slamming the cabinet shut. You jumped. “I’m out of–”

“Midol?” you asked, pulling a series of medicines out of your bag. “Tylenol? Advil? Aleve? Pick your poison.”

Rosa looked at the pills, grabbing the Midol, then staring at you so hard you blushed and turned away, rummaging through the grocery bag. You couldn’t see it, but her eyes softened as she watched you.

“You brought me painkillers?” she asked, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“Mmhm.” You nodded, still avoiding her eyes. “And…” You pulled things out of the bag like it was a magic hat. “Takis, Hot Cheetos, chocolate, a frozen pizza, and Moose Tracks.”

Now it was Rosa’s turn to gape at you. But somehow that made you blush all the more. “I just…” You stumbled over your words. “I always like pizza and chocolate when I’m on my period. And I know you love Takis and Hot Cheetos. And you always have Moose Tracks in the freezer at work.” When Rosa didn’t respond, you kept talking, trying to fill the silence. “It’s no big deal or anything. I didn’t want you to have to go out later or–”

“You noticed my Moose Tracks?” she finally said, smirking, her eyes twinkling.

“Well, yeah.” You shrugged. “I notice a lot.”

“Uh-huh…” Rosa mumbled, watching you flutter around the kitchen, opening cabinet after cabinet to find a glass and get her and yourself some water. You were so nervous your mouth was dry.

“Go lay down or something!” you told her, flustered. “I’ll bring you some water. Do you want me to put the pizza in the oven for you?”

“That depends, will you stay and eat it with me?”

Rosa seemed to have transformed all of a sudden. She’d been largely preoccupied with her pain before, and you could tell she was still feeling it, but it was like a switch had been flipped. Where before she’d been, if not distant, just vaguely nice, now she seemed smug, confident, almost… flirty? As if she had something on you. You desperately hoped that what she had on you was not the fact that you had a massive crush on her.

“Uh… s-sure,” you mumbled. “If you want.”

“I do,” she said, flopping onto the couch and covering herself with a blanket. You brought her a glass of water so she could take her pills, then preheated the oven, fishing a sheet pan out of a cabinet and placing the pizza in to bake.

You sat down on the opposite side of the couch from Rosa, inching to the very edge, and trying your very best not to touch her. You never, ever wanted to make her feel uncomfortable by touching her, even by accident. But she spread out and pressed her feet against your thighs, making your breath catch in your throat.

She scrolled through shows on her TV, then asked you abruptly, “You ever watch Drake’s Hollow?”

You shook your head.

“You should. We could now, if you wanted to.”

“Yeah, okay,” you said encouragingly, willing to watch literally anything with Rosa.

“We’ll start at the beginning so you know what’s going on,” she said, searching for the right episode. “It’s not good. It’s like… the McDonald’s of television.”

You grinned. “Like the frozen pizza of television.”

“Yeah.” She smiled at you. “But sometimes it’s all you want, you know?”

Rosa was right. Drake’s Hollow was not good. The acting was awful. The plot? Melodramatic and borderline ridiculous. But it was fun. You loved to gasp at the hilarious twists and turns. The melodramatic, lovelorn speeches of the characters. To yell, “Boo! Dump his ass!” at the screen when the husband was revealed to be cheating on the wife.

For her part, Rosa loved watching you watch Drake’s Hollow. But you wouldn’t know that. You could hardly believe your luck that you were here. In Rosa’s apartment. With Rosa next to you, so close she was touching you! That you were watching this stupid, stupid show together and making a frozen pizza. You were on cloud nine. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at her, so scared were you that you’d fumble and get awkward again and ruin everything.

“Bathroom?” you asked, standing during a commercial break.

“Down the hall to the right,” Rosa said, pointing behind her.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as you washed your hands, patting cool water on your cheeks in hopes that it’d bring down the flush that hadn’t left since the moment you’d stepped foot in Rosa’s house. You heard the oven timer go off and quickly dried your hands.

You walked into the kitchen, and your stomach dropped all the way to the floor. The pizza was out of the oven, cooling. And Rosa was standing at the island, pulling the slightly rumpled bouquet of baby’s breath out of the grocery bag. The bouquet you’d foregone, thinking it probably was too much.

She looked at you, and you looked away.

“Did you buy me flowers?” she asked.

Fuck, you thought to yourself. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Yep,” you sighed, trying to sound nonchalant. “I just… like to have something pretty to look at. You know, when I’m… on my period.”

It was a ridiculous excuse. You knew it. Rosa almost certainly knew it. She wasn’t stupid. You exhaled heavily and slapped a few slices of pizza onto a plate, hoping that a return to the couch, to Drake’s Hollow, would return everything else to normal, too.

You heard Rosa fill a vase with water, heard her arrange the flowers before grabbing her own pizza. Be cool, be cool, be cool, you told yourself as she sat back down, setting her plate next to yours on the coffee table.

You avoided her eyes, waiting for her to start the show again. You got more and more nervous the longer the silence went on, the longer the paused screen vibrated on the TV.

“Y/N,” Rosa finally said, her voice softer than normal.

Fuck, you cursed internally. You’d fucked it up. She knew. She knew and she didn’t feel the same because of course she didn’t, and now you’d ruined everything. It was all going to be awkward and weird now. Fuck.

“Flowers aren’t a thing that friends do.”

You let out a shaky breath. “They… could be?” you ventured, knowing as soon as it left your mouth that it wasn’t true, not for you and her.

She carefully slid her hand into yours, and you felt your heart stop.

“And what if I wanted to give you flowers?” she asked.

You blinked, not quite believing your ears, and turned to look at Rosa. Her face was light, playful, so much softer than usual. Was she teasing you? Tricking you? Making fun of you? Surely, she wasn’t that mean. She could be ruthless, sure. But she wasn’t cruel. Not to people she cared about it.

She gently grasped your chin, and your stomach did flips. Then she leaned forward and she kissed you. Just like that. So simple, so easy, so soft. Softer than you’d ever imagined Rosa to be. A softness she probably didn’t let many people see. She was so gentle, her fingers light as feathers against the skin of your face, her lips barely grazing yours, as if to ask for permission.

When she pulled away, you were breathless, even though she’d barely touched you, barely pressed her lips to yours. You just looked at each other for a moment, as if to gauge the other, as if to ask if this was real. But you–you’d wanted to kiss Rosa since the day you met her. The fact that she wanted to kiss you? Unbelievable. Beyond your wildest imagination. Rosa fucking Diaz. Absolute enigma. Terror of the Brooklyn 99. Wanted to kiss you.

Before you could even fully register what you were doing, you’d surged forward, grasping her face in your hands, pressing your lips to hers with all the fervor of an unrequited love that had, against all odds, become requited. She laughed, smiling into the kiss, pressing her hands against your collarbone, curling them around your neck.

When you finally ran out of breath, you leaned back, grinning, hand pressed to your forehead. Rosa laughed again, and you turned to her.

“This isn’t a prank, right?” you asked.

“No!” she scoffed, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a bite. “I’m not that mean.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Okay, I wouldn’t be that mean to you.”

“Wow,” you smirked, taking a bite of your own slice. “You really do like me.”

“Shut up, nerd,” she grumbled, mouth full, shoving her shoulder into you.

But you could tell by the way her eyes sparkled, by the way the corners of her mouth turned up, by the way she let herself linger next to you, skin touching, that she was playing when she called you names.

But she wasn’t playing when she kissed you. Wasn’t playing when she turned Drake’s Hollow back on and tentatively tucked herself into your side. And she certainly wasn’t playing when the pizza was done, the ice cream eaten, the show over, the night late. When she said, “You might as well stay if you want to. You’ll have to drive me in the morning anyway,” then stood and walked to her bedroom, giving you a look that let you know you were meant to follow. And you did.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Gibbs Knows Best

Gibbs x Reader One Shot

Prompt: Gibbs is over for a dinner date when your daughter gets into a car accident.

Notes: Just Gibbs being his usual protective self. Mentions of a panic attack.

————

Running into the kitchen, you stopped the little cooking timer and put your oven mitts on to pull the delicious smelling salmon out of the oven. You threw a few spices on top and then got started on the mashed potatoes.

The dinner you were preparing was your idea since it was so hard to get Jethro available for longer than a day or so before he would get another case. It was only your 4th date but everything was going so well. Even your daughter was a fan and she hadn’t even met him yet.

You weren’t sure if he told his team about you but you had told your own coworkers plenty about him. The way he’s such a gentleman, always offering help or paying for everything every time you two went out as much as you would try to convince him otherwise.

You heard the front doorbell ring and went over to open it, seeing Jethro standing there in his work suit but holding a small bouquet of flowers.

“I picked these up on the way,” he offered with a small smile. You took them and let him in, letting him give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Smells great. Salmon?”

“Yeah. I was just about to make the mashed potatoes and the asparagus is keeping warm in the oven.”

He followed you into the kitchen and immediately took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves to continue where you left off as you looked for a vase.

“How was work?” you asked for small talk. He never went deep into conversation about his work but you’d thought it’d still be nice to ask.

“Alright. Got the bad guy.”

You filled the vase halfway with water and trimmed the stems before putting them in and setting it on your kitchen counter.

“That’s always a win.”

Your phone started ringing and your daughter’s Face ID popped up on the screen. She was suppose to be spending the night at a friend’s and you hoped everything was ok as you answered.

“Hey sweetie, what’s up?”

The sound of your daughter’s scared voice shot a jolt of fear through you.

“Are you alright? Where are you?”

Your frantic questions caught Jethro’s attention who stopped cooking to listen.

“Ok. I’ll be right there, don’t go anywhere,” you advised, hanging up the phone and turning the oven off.

“Everything alright?” Jethro asked.

“No. My daughter just got into a car accident. I have to go, I’m sorry.”

“Well let’s go,” he simply stated, turning the stove off and going over to put his jacket back on. You could’ve told him that you were fine and could go by yourself but decided to welcome his help as you both rushed out of the house, taking his car, red and blue lights flashing all the way there.

>>>>

As you rounded the corner, you could see half the street blocked off as fire engines and cop cars were parked in the middle. You saw two cars. One was smashed into a light pole and the other a few hundred feet away, visibly damaged.

Parking as close as you could, the both of you got out and made your way through the nosy crowd of onlookers, catching the attention of the officers.

“Please stay back with the rest of the crowd ma’am.”

Before you could protest, Jethro spoke for you.

“Special Agent Gibbs, let her through. Her daughter is one of the injured,” he ordered, flashing his badge. The officer nodded and stepped aside, allowing you to come through. You saw your daughter over on the sidewalk, talking with the EMT’s looking seemingly unharmed and called her name.

“Mom!” She ran over and you hugged her tight.

“Mom, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know he had been drinking so much! Sean..I don’t think he made it..”

She was crying hysterically and trying to catch her breath but failing. You knew a panic attack was coming on but there wasn’t much you could do. It was something she had struggled with ever since her father died 3 years ago.

“Honey, you gotta calm down.”

She shook her head, only crying harder. “It’s..my..fault..”

“No honey, it’s not. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

You were surprised when you saw Jethro walk over and take your place, putting his hands on her arms.

“Hey, I’m a friend of your moms. Let’s go over here,” he said, leading her a little further away from the crowd and accident. He then had her sit down on the grass, crouching down in front of her.

“Let’s get your breathing slowed down alright? I want you to take a big breath in for every 3 seconds ok? 1..2..3, big breath.”

He held onto her hands that were shaking and opened them up, keeping them from cramping while chanting his count.

“That’s it. 1..2..3..Now let’s take a big breath and hold it for a second before letting it out, alright?”

You watched the two of them counting and breathing together before eventually her breaths became slower as she calmed down. He continued massaging her hands, making her open and close them.

“Better? I know this was a lot to handle but your mom’s here and I’m here. You’re safe and that’s what matters.”

He gestured for you to come over and you sat down next to her, pulling her into your side, giving him a grateful look. He gave a small smile in return and stood up.

“I’m gonna go see what’s going on and see if we’re clear to take her home.”

You nodded and he left to speak with a few of the officers as your daughter stayed quiet, occasionally sniffling and taking in a deep breath.

>>>>

After a few questions answered, we were given the ok to leave. The drive home was silent except for the low music playing on the radio and Jethro’s hand never left yours.

Once home, you sent your daughter upstairs to take a shower and change as you and Jethro went into the kitchen. He pulled you in for a hug, allowing you to let out a shaky breath, while holding back tears.

“Thank you. For me and her. It usually takes forever for her to get out of an attack like that.”

“I’ve had a bit of experience with anxiety attacks in the past so I just did what usually helped me.”

You pulled back to look up at him and leaned in for a gentle kiss.

“This wasn’t how I wanted the two of you to meet.”

“Well we can try again tomorrow morning if you’d like,” he proposed.

“Are you suggesting you spend the night?”

Neither one of you had spend the night over at either one’s house yet but his question got your hopes up.

“Is that ok? I can sleep on the couch if you’d like-“

“No. I mean no I’m not gonna have you sleep on the couch. And of course you can spend the night.”

“Good. I’ll make the coffee, you make the eggs?”

“Deal.” You couldn’t hold back the grin and gave him another deep kiss.

[scarsrealm]

questionable actions. | re2 inaccurate, yandere, leon scott kennedy

<<<blurb>>>

“STAY behind me.” Leon’s voice dripped with protection and care for you. You simply nodded at his orders, in fact, you were glad he was protecting you; especially in these conditions. But at the same time, his “protection” became odd. He would make sure you’re 100% safe by holding you close, a little too close. You understood he was just making sure you were okay but it came to a point where you felt a bit uncomfortable.

You were running through the police station, following Leon as he guided you both through the halls. The zombies were almost everywhere, you thought you had no chance of winning. You just wanted to be free and get the hell out of here. The zombies would lunge at you, you could hear their growls and groans. Of course, Leon would do what he always does. Protect you.

He would hold you close to him, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. The way he held you made your body feel tense, not being used to this sort of thing. His behavior was off-putting. You could feel his breath against your skin. His hands would touch your skin, making you flinch a bit. His lips were right next to your ear, whispering that he'll protect you. You were grateful for his kindness and help but you thought there had to be some sort of limit.

It was when things got worse that his protective nature became more... possessive?

"I'm not going anywhere without you," Leon said. “Leon, it’s fine, I’m a grown woman, I can handle a little—“

“No.” And that was it. The word was simple yet the way he said it made it clear that he wasn't budging on this. He didn’t want you going anywhere without him. He wanted you right by his side. He didn’t care if it was a small, harmless task. He didn’t want you leaving his side, no matter what.

Leon was a cop, so of course, his first priority was to keep you safe, but you thought he would've loosened up a bit when you tried telling him it's alright. But it was like he was stuck in this mindset.

There were times where you would go to get supplies, such as medkits, herbs, or any handgun ammo, and you would be fine on your own. That is, until Leon caught wind of you being away from him and he would come to you, scolding you for being alone.

"Y/n, I told you not to leave my side."

“Y/n, come on before you get hurt."

"You can’t keep just disappearing on me..."

He would constantly be on your tail, always looking for you. When you were with him, it was great! But whenever he wasn't near, or if he didn't know where you were, his behavior would become frantic and panicked.

And it was the worst when you tried defending yourself.

"Y/N!" He yelled, coming back to you after killing off a few zombies. "What are you doing!? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

You rolled your eyes, wiping off the sweat that was on your forehead. “Leon, im not completely helpless! I can handle myself!" You explained sternly. You didn't mean to get mad at him, but he needed to stop babying you.

"What? Are you serious?" He scoffed. "I don't want you risking your life like that. You could’ve gotten bit.”

You groaned. You didn’t want to argue, you were tired of it all. "Just stay behind me and let me take care of everything." He said, holding his gun in front of him. "Leon, im not a child, I can—"

"Just let me protect you."

"Why are you acting like this?" You questioned. You were getting a bit annoyed with his constant need to look after you.

"Because I'm the only one that can keep you safe.”

That sentence confirmed that something was wrong. You had no idea why he would say such a thing. You two just met, he doesn’t even know you that well, and yet he acts as if he had known you for years.

"Wha—?"

"Nothing. Just stay behind me and be quiet." He commanded.

This was crazy. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. What was his problem? You didn’t know. But there was a feeling deep down inside you, something that screamed to you that something was definitely not right with Leon.

But it was too late to ask questions. You were forced to be at his side.

Leon was so serious about you that he didn't even hesitate to kill. No matter what. Even if they looked like a normal human, he would pull the trigger. Anything that went towards you, he would take it down.

He was ruthless.

[supervillain-smut]

Anatomy Part 2: Connor

Part 1 Markus

Connor was attempting to act like your hand down his pants wasn’t affecting him, and he was doing well, really, he was. Hank was reading a magazine peacefully in the front seat of the car, meanwhile, you and Connor had been relegated to the back seat because ‘kids sit in the back seat, and I’m the oldest!’. It was the perfect opportunity to test Connor’s willpower. You slowly traced the edges where you could feel his sensor pad. Cyberlife clearly hadn’t planned on their little cop bot getting busy due to his lack of genitalia, but that was just fine; made misbehaving more discreet. His LED remained a perfect blue, with no yellow to be seen; perfectly calm. You, however, had a perfect view of the oh-so-subtle flickering it did whenever Connor was hiding his emotions. 

Connor gave you a side-eye warning glare, but you pretended not to see it, opting to creep just a little closer to the center of his touchpad. That got a reaction as Connor attempted to shift his hips away from your touch; you knew despite your teasing he was into this; you’d made a subtle but clear signal when Connor didn’t want to partake in your particular brand of mischief; two fingers, like checking a pulse, against your arm, followed by two firm taps. His hands stayed on his lap, tightly gripping his pants as his jaw clenched. His LED began to flicker properly now, and you could see the smallest sliver of yellow bleeding into the blue. 

“So, what do you guys think about this... Deviant stuff?” Thankfully, Hank didn’t bother turning to face you as he spoke, not even looking at you at all. 

“I...” Connor stumbled over his words at first, flustered by the sudden question. “I have no comment, Lieutenant. My function is simply to find and detain them.” Hank scoffed at Connor’s words. “And you?” 

“I think it’s best I didn’t discuss political matters while at work, with all due respect.” Hank stared at the page before shrugging. “Fair enough.” 

You peeked over Hank’s shoulder at the GPS, then at Connor’s LED; you were nearing the Eden club, and Connor was just approaching the point of no return; ending it now would be merciful, but you’d have to work to get him off before you arrived. You doubled your efforts, skipping the teasing and finding the center before moving in fast, short strokes. Connor’s LED immediately switched to a flickering yellow, and his breath hitched. You watched as his LED let more and more red bleed into the yellow, and worried you’d end up being cruel leaving him like this if you couldn’t make him cum before you got there. 

“Connor now is not the time to be holding back, unless you want to try to function with your brain all foggy and unfocused. Now let go but stay quiet. You can do it.” You whispered so lowly only Connor could hear it as you properly cupped him, using your thumb to swipe up and down at your previous pace. Connor’s jaw hung open as his eyebrows furrowed and his LED swiftly began to turn red. The car made a sudden swerve to avoid another car, and Connor grabbed your arm to halt your movements as he came, doing his best to calm his breathing before Hank noticed something was off. 

“Jesus fuck, fucking idiots! These things drive themselves you know! You kids alright back there? Connor?” You had managed to get your hand out of Connor’s pants and fix them up just in time as Hank swiveled around to face you. 

“I-I’m fine, Lieutenant. Just a little startled, I was... zoned out, when it happened.” Connor cleared his throat and fixed his tie. “Yeah. Well, you do that a lot. Anyways, we’re here. Come on.” As you made your way into the club, you were suddenly grabbed and pulled back by Hank. “Seriously, though, stop fucking your boy-toy android.” 

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Chapter I - Introduction

[michael afton x reader] you -- always you

content warning: (these are implied/referenced) character death, self-harm, underage drinking

tags: GN!reader, romance, fix-it of sorts, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, domestic fluff, friends to lovers, eventual happy ending

Michael Afton. He wasn’t exactly a picture perfect poster boy. Not with a past that everyone seemed to know about.

“I heard he started chain smoking cigarettes at thirteen.”

“I heard his dad had to pay off the cops after he got caught dealing drugs.”

“I heard he murdered his little brother.”

Okay, now that – that last one was the only thing you could half verify. Apparently, some freak accident combined with a twelve year old’s underestimation of robot jaws had branded Michael a cold blooded murderer. It didn’t help that in the years following, kids continued to disappear. Now he was the villain from a slasher film. A monster wrought from birth. The one bad guy in the less-than-twenty-thousand population of Hurricane, Utah.

Honestly, it was pretty pitiful.

As far as you could tell, from both newspaper articles and the way he slumped over – prominent eyebags a shocking grey – in class every single day, this man – no, this boy – was certainly not a killer. If anything, the way he naturally carried himself in silence or half-hearted snarkiness seemed evidence enough to you that he had regretted the ordeal from years before. It wasn’t evidence enough to other staff or students, of course, who held their long-drawn prejudices, but as for you – a newcomer from California whose parents decided to dump themselves in the middle of fuck knows where – you simply didn’t have that pre-existing impression. And so, you thought, maybe he just needed someone – anyone – to reach out and say hello.

So you did.

Ah, yes – the American high school cafeteria. The place where friendships can be summed up in – “make it or break it.” The place where whatever the hell is on the plate is called food. In Michael’s case, it’s a hodgepodge of unsweetened grey slurry, an overly greasy pizza, and an apple. The apple doesn’t look all too appetizing either.

It’s here, amongst crackled blue tables that Michael sits in solitude, poking the mystery sludge with a spork before deciding not to risk his life for a taste. Thus, with a sigh, the plastic utensil is quickly tossed aside – only to be interrupted by your question.

“Can I sit here?”

His eyes snap up from his cardboard lunch tray.

“Sorry?”

“I was just wondering if I could join you.”

The word “if” lingers for a while on your tongue, debating halfway through if this was a good idea. Yes, you took him as lonely, but not the type of lonely that was ready to be friendly, even if he desperately needed a friend. That hesitance was clear now, in the way his bluish-grey eyes rake over you, squinting with a brow furrowed more than usual.

“Is this some sort of prank?--”

There’s the slight tinge of a British accent as he speaks, but you aren’t able to process it before you interrupt.

“No, it’s not. It’s just– well, I’m new, and it’s kind of weird shoving myself into other groups when everyone’s known each other since elementary.”

“So you decided – hey – stick with the delinquent?”

“Okay, I’m from California. I’ve seen delinquents. Trust me, you don’t seem half bad.”

At this point, you don’t even wait for his answer and plop right down in front of him. He makes an obvious scowl, and for a moment, his hands reach forward to pick up his tray and move elsewhere, but you guess that at some point, he remembers there’s no other empty table to sit at. If he wants to be alone, it’s either alone with you or in some annoying teacher’s classroom. And the latter would be even more awkward.

Fine. He’ll deal with it.

“You’re not very conversational, are you?”

All he does is grunt in response.

But hey!-- at least he’s not chasing you off.

You take this as an absolute win. Your comment earlier, about shoving yourself into other groups, was largely accurate. Though you had made acquaintances with a few kids, they were just that – acquaintances. The kind of people you ask for help on a problem or lend notes to when they’re absent. Not the kind of people you feel comfortable going out on a shopping trip with. Not yet, at least. And to fully insert yourself into a tight-knit clique of people who grew up together? No way. No way in hell. So, unironically, the most unfriendly person would be your best bet at making a lasting friendship. This late in the game, at least.

The rest of lunch is quiet, at least until the last five minutes. You don’t try to pester him anymore than you already have, and for that, he seems grateful. At some point, he stops sending you disgruntled glares and relaxes, settling instead for an utter lack of consideration. You try to imitate the same disinterest – eating your home-packed food in silence, occupying yourself with idle doodles.

That last thing, he eventually took note of..

“You draw?”

“Well, look at that. We’ve got ourselves an extrovert.”

He snorts yet surprises you when he leans forward to get a better look at the half-unfinished homework you have on the table. In the corner, you’ve started sketching in lazy graphite – just small things like messy butterflies and eyes and flowers. Disjointed and pointless and done for the sake of filling in space rather than showing off.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on copying my calc homework,” you tease lightly, tugging the paper back towards you.

At that, he actually grins.

“Ha– why would I when you got the derivative for sine-x wrong?”

“I– what?”

He taps the second question on your math homework, where sure enough – you’ve gotten things mixed up. I mean, of course you did – you might’ve been in Calc BC, but that didn’t mean you actually knew the stuff. Barely anybody did. But him, apparently.

And he found the mistake in – what – two seconds?

The confusion on your face must be obvious with the way he chuckles and leans back again, crossing his arms.

“Surprised I got a brain?”

“No. I’m surprised you’ve got a mega-brain. I’m in the only Calc BC class, and you’re not even in it.”

“Mega-brain?”

“Shut up – I don’t know how else to word it.”

You quickly flip the pencil in your hand to erase the mistake and replace what you’d gotten wrong with the equation. Stupid – fucking – Calc BC. You didn’t even know why you were taking the class when everyone in Hurricane had a future in entry-level customer service. You don’t need rocket science to add dollar bills and cents together. At least Michael is amused, finishing up the one apple he has before sliding the core and the cardboard tray away.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. My father’s an engineering genius. My ability to math is probably the one good I got from him.”

“You call him a whole-ass ‘father?’ Not ‘dad?’”

“Like I said, the one good. His brain is all he’s good for, anyway.”

You nod in acceptance at his comment, but the thought of his father makes you realize that his last name is familiar. Not him familiar, but someone else familiar. Afton. Afton. Oh!--

“Your dad’s the one who owns Fazbear Entertainment!”

The moment your eyes light up in recognition, he shrinks back, cringing.

“Co-owns. But yeah, he does.”

Seeing the way he shrivels, your excitement wavers before falling flat. Ah – right – Freddy Fazbear’s Diner was where…

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It’s fine.”

“I just– well, you know, the franchise is pretty popular and–”

“Like I said – it’s fine. It happened years ago. Not like I can avoid the damn place anyway. Father pretty much forces me to work there, so I’m surrounded by shit either way.” He runs a hand through his hair then lets it rest on his neck as he looks away. “And besides, I kinda expected it to be brought up at some point in our conversation.”

“... Right. Right.”

He picks up your guilt with ease, seen as you were so loud and were now so regrettably quiet. What a switch of roles.

He clears his throat.

“Well, off topic, but your drawings are nice.”

You take the change of pace with a grateful smile. “Thanks, I guess. I’ve seen you draw in class, though. I’m nothing compared to you.”

The compliment pricks at him like a needle full of serotonin. Strange to take but pleasant to have. He looks away again – this time for other reasons. “Thanks. I didn’t realize we shared a class.”

You shrug and start shuffling your leftover food back into your lunch pail. “English, actually. I like what we read well enough but Davids is just insufferable,” you grin. “I can’t help but let my eyes wander around when I’m in class. And you and your drawings are the most eye-catching thing in there.”

“Oh. Thanks. Wait, did you say I–”

The bell rings halfway through his sentence, prompting you to stand and sling your backpack over your shoulder. Knowing you’ll have to rush to the opposite end of campus keeps you distracted from your little Freudian slip, and soon enough, you’re hurrying away.

“I’ll see you in Davids’! And you better move to Calc BC!”

[barb-l]

Isn't a writer question but was curious; How does wenclair different from other ships you've enjoyed?

Is it solely due to having been a lifelong Wednesday Addams fan, or is it specifically the Netflix's Addams world that you find intriguing?

I ask mainly because I recall you once saying that your wenclair comics--specifically the Next Gen Au I believe--are written and made with a lot of intention in regards to dialog and the discussions had between characters.

Is this due to a greater insight into the characters or simply a mark of growth in writing comprehension?

I like to think I put as much thought in all ships I've been hyperfixated on tbh. Wenclair isn't even the one I've been obsessed with the longest. So far it's actually Trimberly, for which and I was hyperfixated with for like 3 years.

But yeah ok I get ur point lol The intensity this time feels different, I suppose.

I think it's a mix of both being a long time Wednesday Addams fan and how cute of a ship Wenclair is both in concept and the canon execution of their dynamics.

As some of you are aware, I've been a fan of The Addams for a while now. All incarnations of them are great in their own way, but one of the many reasons why the animated 2019 movie is my favorite is because it didn't give Wednesday a bland ass male love interest. I don't think the B/W series did it(because Wed was like six in that) but the 90's movies, musical, and netflix series for some reason found it necessary to give Wednesday male love interests so painfully boring and i hate it. This isn't even about making Wednesday attracted to boys. I personally headcanon her bi, as the ol' stereotype that all grumpy/angsty female characters must be lesbian isn't my cup of tea, and also because I like to think all Addamses just don't give a shit about gender when it comes to romance. I woulda been fine with her getting a boyfriend so long as they're not boring af and goddddd canon incarnations still haven't delivered. Joel was sweet but he was too much of a wimp, not even Gomez is that pathetic. Lucas' thing with Wednesday was just portrayed in such an icky way in the musical that I couldn't finish watching by the time their sexually charged duet came on, and don't even get me started on the boys Netflix gave her. I expected better of Gough and Millar...(unless the blandness was on purpose like it was with Lana Lang--)

Anyways, because of all said canon love interests, I've been desperate for Wednesday to have a love interest that is both not painfully het or boring for once. Crossover shipping with Lydia Deetz from Beetlejuice the Musical was fun but was ultimately a very niche fandom. I could only draw and write for an audience of twenty or so people for so long. Parker from the animated movie would've been great, but the cop out with her mom dating Fester just made it too weird for me to be fully on board with the ship.

So when Enid Sinclair was introduced as a character I was absolutely ecstatic. On paper alone she already seemed great. She has a very distinct appearance (even if her "design" was inspired by Harlequin and it shows) that goes so well when she stands next to Wednesday, whether it's in the actual show, fan arts, or even in official merch. Her being Wednesday's complete opposite in so many ways makes her being paired with Wednesday so dang interesting too.

And I don't just mean aesthetic or personality wise. I'm talking about how one of Wednesday's struggle stems from having too much smothering love from her family as someone who gets overwhelmed too easily, and Enid's loneliness and insecurity coming from her own family's lack of love and attention where it matters most. Or how Wednesday's just girl who, deep inside worries about being an actual cruel monster like the very bigots she hates, while Enid is a supposed beast who resents herself for only being a scared little girl. Even the fact that Wednesday is an older sister to a soft-hearted younger brother while Enid is the youngest daughter to a bunch of rough-housing older brothers feels very on purpose.

Everything about Enid feels deliberate. Like she IS supposed to be paired with Wednesday, platonically or romantically. She's the best person to stand beside Wednesday as a character because they have enough differences and similarities to have interesting conflicts but also significant character growths sparked by each other. She's not bland or boring like the canon love interests because even without her attachment to Wednesday, Enid is still such a compelling character. The mere fact that she's as popular as she is despite an eight-episode series being her debut in a franchise that's been iconic to generations is already pretty amazing, and only a character as impressive deserves to smooch somebody as iconic as Wednesday Addams.

And their on screen chemistry is just *chef's kiss*

[gethsemanegege]

dn ask game

5

8(L)

22

25

hell yeah, thanks anon!

dn ask game

5.how do you feel about Kira’s idealogy?

stupid. braindead. the childish, eugenicist rant of the deeply misinformed and blindly privileged. the fact that it came out of a middle class teenage boy with a decorated cop father is absolutely unsurprising and expected. "should we kill the bad guys" is the kind of unthinking and unexamined philosophy 101 question that gets posed to high schoolers because the teacher is bored and wants to hear kids argue with each other at the top of their lungs. dissatisfaction with the criminal justice system and the corruption of state legislature is a fair position; advocating for the wholesale killing of undesirables is insane. it's the absurd end conclusion of the "just world" fallacy taken to comedic extremes and it reeks of ignorance of historical context, a lack of human empathy, and arrogance.

it sucks as an ideology and is a great motivation for a fictional villain. every time i see people unironically agreeing with kiraism or whatever i feel my own braincells die. but then again my country did just elect a fascist, so

8.what do you think L would have done if they had gotten the death note?

used it. saw someone point out somewhere that L's first instinct on getting the death note in his hands is to test it, the same as light's. i think most people would, frankly.

maybe more interpretively: i think he would have kept using it, especially with a shinigami behind him talking his ear off. perhaps he'd use it sparingly. intelligently. but i think the point of the death note is it's an unthinkable temptation, particularly for the arrogant and amoral. or maybe he'd view it as cheating. but either way, he'd use it at least once. i don't think his curiosity would have let him do any less.

22. which moment was the most painful to watch?

i actually have a severely low tolerance for secondhand embarrassment, so i could not watch the warehouse scene. i had to like. look away and cover my ears. it was so bad. my heart goes out to everyone who loves that scene and was deeply affected by it but light is simply so cringe and embarrassing for that entire ordeal that i can't think about daikoku wharf without feeling like my chest is folding inwards out of sheer shame. THAT'S RIGHT. I'M KIRA hoooughhh okay gayboy please. stop. please i'm already dead no death note required

25. ramble on about whatever you’d like to

every time i see a popular misinterpretation of a death note character i kind of want to rip my skin off but this is pretty normal. like. i see a lot of soichiro bashing. i once read a fic where L hated soichiro for some...reason. like he thought soichiro was a bad dad. which is an insane mischaracterization of both soichiro and L, i think, that does a disservice to the relationship they actually have in canon? i mean i'm all for projecting onto characters but i think arguing that L thought soichiro is a bad dad is so far from canon that i have to roll my eyes a little.

that said everyone can enjoy what they enjoy and i'm just a grumpy guy with opinions and a lot of my opinions tonight are "not to much on my boy soichiro" which. not everyone agrees with me on. this is fine. i just feel like. if you're going to talk about soichiro and L. then there's plenty of character-based tension surrounding soichiro's hardcore moralism and L's disdainful amoralism. you can have that combative relationship without having to jam in your opinions on soichiro's parenting with L as your mouthpiece. i'm being mean. sorry. anyway carry on and thank you for letting me ramble

[winchesterszvonecek]

Prosecutorial Misconduct 18+

Chapter 5 - A Pretzel, A Pigeon and A Patrol Officer

Word Count: 11,646

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

The day of the grand jury had arrived and Melanie was still Barba’s only hope of getting the indictment he needed. He should have known things would always have played out like this. That he would have been so blatantly stonewalled by his colleagues. By his friends . Cops always did go out of their way to avoid having to answer certain questions, he knew that, but to see for himself just how far some of them were willing to go… 

It had been downright shocking, if he was telling the truth, and had he not already felt more out of his depth than ever before, he’d easily be charging half of them with committing perjury.

Of course, none of those who had unintentionally perjured themselves would have ever thought that they did as they all believed what they were saying was the truth. For example, Liv had remained adamant, throughout her entire testimony, that what went down had been a good shoot. But even Barba himself didn’t need to be a detective to know that that was complete and utter crap, and he could only hope that by the end of the day the jury would see it through the same eyes as he did. 

He still couldn’t quite get a feel for where their heads were at. The entire time, they’d heard one version of the events after another. Terrance had a gun . Terrance might have had a gun . I don’t know if Terrance had a gun . Statements were bouncing all over the place like a DVD screensaver and by the end, even Barba himself felt lost as to whose word to truly believe so how in the hell could he ever expect twenty-three regular civilians to know either? He was truly counting on Melanie at this point. She always did have a way of making people see things clearly and if he ever wanted to get the justice that Terrance and his family deserved, then he needed her to do that for him. 

The only problem was… when the time came for her to do so, Melanie was nowhere to be seen. 

Barba had specifically told her, multiple times both in person and through text, to be waiting for him in the hallway at exactly 3.45pm… which was a whole half hour before he actually needed her to testify — a little move he’d learned from Carisi, unfortunately, for whenever he really needed that fine ass of hers to be somewhere on time. 

Most of the time it worked. She’d come strolling in, a smile on her face and a coffee in hand, at exactly the time he needed her. Yet today, of all days, just had to be the day when Melanie was officially late, didn’t it? When all eyes, both public and political, were trained on him. Were relying solely on him to do the right thing, and it just so happened that the one godforsaken witness he needed to do that had to go and be awol. 

Great. That was just… great. The DA already had him under a microscope. He still needed to weave his way back into the good graces of city hall and as if things literally couldn’t get any worse for him than they already had, his smoking gun was nearly an hour late. It was just… P erfect. He might as well go kiss his job goodbye and move on with his life if this was how things were going to be for him now. 

Nevertheless, with the blood swirling in his head and rage coursing through his veins, Barba continued to relentlessly pace the marble floors of the courthouse hallway, his dress shoes making an irritably loud tapping noise with each agitated step he took. He kept his eyes trained on the stairwell door each time he passed by it, desperately praying that Melanie would finally come sauntering through it with a large coffee in her hand and an unapologetic grin plastered on that pretty face of hers. 

He normally looked forward to seeing that. To feeling how his heart would race and the world around him would simply fade away as he got lost in the intoxicating pull of her presence, but today literally couldn’t be more different. He was pissed off. Furious. He couldn’t understand how she could do this to him, especially after last night . The way she’d looked at him. With such care. Such adoration. Such intense longing for him , swimming in the ambient light of her eyes, to him, it had almost felt like they were nothing more than star-struck lovers. And when she said his name. God… The way it rolled off her tongue in such a perfect, breathless, desperate whisper that he didn’t think he would ever be able to get out of his mind, there was no way that she was intentionally standing him up. Not after that. 

At least, that's what he kept telling himself anyway, as he continued to pace. He knew he had to keep the faith that Melanie would never, in a million years, do this to him on purpose, but as another ten minutes flew by where there was still no sign of her, Barba had eventually lost all hope that he’d ever see her today. He couldn’t even begin to describe the hurt — The betrayal that was blossoming in his heart when he came to a slow stop next to the stairwell, his chest heaving with each sharp breath he inhaled through his nose. He gave it thirty more seconds of staring optimistically at the door before he finally gave up, shoving his hands in his pockets and beginning to make his way angrily back towards the courtroom. 

Only, just before he could reach the heavy, gold trimmed doors that the grand jury sat behind, a soft creak from behind him met his ears and he spun immediately on his heels, his shoes squeaking against the floor in his haste to see who it was. And to his minor relief, yet insatiable annoyance, the first, and only, person he saw when he did was Melanie, her cheeks lightly flushed and her hands free of the large iced coffee she normally sported when she would rock carelessly up to things several minutes late.  

“Finally,” Barba gritted, crossing the hallway towards her in a few large strides. His nostrils were practically flaring with rage as his hardened eyes pierced straight through hers, missing the faint smear of blood that swept across her hairline as he was too busy being pissed at her, “You’re late.”  

“And you can tell time, bravo,” Melanie snapped back, rolling her eyes, “Can we just get this over with?”  

It was only when she went to push grumpily past him, did Barba finally appear to notice the faint blood that was crusting on her forehead and in her hair. His face fell and guilt began to build in his chest as he hooked his hand around her elbow, hearing that familiar deep sigh of hers escape her throat as he stopped her dead in her tracks before she could so much as move an inch. He raised his free hand, worry riddling every ounce of his handsome features as he gently brushed his thumb over the faded spot on Melanie’s head, causing a soft wince to seep through her lips as she recoiled from his touch. 

“It’s nothing,” Melanie said, ruffling her hair to fix her curls to better cover the cut before Barba could go and get all hysterical on her. “Just a perp with a temper, that’s all.” 

“A perp did this to you?” Barba repeated, and Melanie nodded. He scoffed, his face tightening and his jaw tensing as he tried his hardest to keep his thoughts on that scenario to himself. It didn’t work though. He always hated seeing her injured and so, with anger bubbling away in the pit of his stomach, he grumbled, “Carisi is supposed to have your back. Where the hell was he?” 

“Not there,” Melanie defended, roughly pulling her arm free of the hold Barba still had on her. She watched as he studied her, his eyes narrowing as they cast over the entirety of her face and she could tell that he didn’t believe her for a second. Why would he? Her excuse was as pathetic as the cops who’d caused this entire mess in the first place, and deep down she knew better than to try to lie to someone with such a gut instinct as Barba had. Therefore, after a deep exhale through her nose, she gave in and confessed, in barely telligible mumble, “I got into it with Detective Campesi.” 

“I’m sorry, you what?” Barba stammered, turning his head a little as though trying to hear her better. In reality, he’d actually heard her perfectly. But he was just hoping that the words had somehow gotten jumbled on their way to his ears, as he couldn’t bring himself to believe that the ones he’d heard were correct.

“I got into it with Detective Campesi,” Melanie said in a much slower, clearer tone like she would with a child. That made Barba frown profusely, the lines on his face only deepening and tightening when he came to realise she was serious.

A delusional laugh then left his lips as Barba placed his hands on his hips and began pacing again, “Oh, you cops are single handedly trying to lower my life expectancy, aren’t you?” 

Melanie rolled her eyes, “Oh relax, will you? All I did was shove her.” 

As if that made things better, Barba thought to himself. He came to a slow stop, exhaling deeply through his nose as he eyed her and tried his best to settle his nerves without retreating upstairs and opening the bottle of scotch he had hidden in his office.

“Melanie, with all due respect,” He began hesitantly, his tone completely contradicting that statement and Melanie quite clearly picked up on it with the way she folded her arms and raised her eyebrow daringly towards him. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?” She exclaimed, pressing her fingers to her chest and showcasing her bruised knuckles. Sure Melanie, all you did was shove her. “That bitch came at me first, okay? She slammed my head into the doorframe, what was I supposed to do?” 

Campesi initiated first? Now that was intriguing. 

“Why?” Barba asked, causing Melanie to narrow her eyes briefly in question. “Why did she go after you?” 

“And that would be the million dollar question, counsellor. Now, would you like to phone a friend or should we ask the audience instead?” Melanie replied sarcastically, making Barba frown again. She sighed softly, stepping up to him and his brooding face, then placed her hands gently on his outer arms. “Look, I don’t know why she did it. Or what her agenda was, but all I do know is that had I not already been planning to win this indictment for you… Then she sure as hell would have made me change my mind.” 

“You shouldn’t phrase it like that,” Barba said flatly, “You could get me disbarred.”

“Who’s gonna hear us?” Melanie chuckled breathily, raising her hands to briefly gesture to the empty hallway they occupied before placing them right back on his arms again. “The ghosts of past ADA’s who haunt the building and only wish they could have been as charming and skilled as you are?” 

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me out of being annoyed.” 

“Guilty,” Melanie smiled sweetly, dropping her sorrow filled eyes from his and moving her hands to adjust the knot in Barba’s tie that he must have tugged loose during the time he spent angrily waiting for her. 

It pained her to see that she’d gotten him so stressed out that he’d felt the need to claw at his throat for air. She hadn’t meant to. Truly . She’d fully intended to be here for him twenty minutes earlier than the fake time she knew he always gave her, but it wasn’t like she could just sweep what happened under the rug simply because he needed her. Campesi had attacked her. Unprovoked, simply because she read a situation wrong and in Melanie’s book, that meant she needed to be taught a lesson over thinking she could take things out on her fellow detective’s just because she, herself, was in the hot seat. Her only wish was that it could have happened later rather earlier as maybe then Barba wouldn’t have gotten caught in the crossfire, and she wouldn’t be left with such a dark hole of guilt filling the pit of her stomach. 

“I’m really sorry, Rafael. I didn’t…” Melanie took a breath, running her thumbs gently over his neatened tie as she forced her eyes to draw up the length of it and finally meet the glistening emerald light of his own again. “I know you’re under a microscope with the DA, but I just… I want — I need you to know that it wasn’t my intention to make things harder for you than they already are.”

“I know,” Barba said softly, assuringly. He really did know that she hadn’t meant it on purpose, but sometimes he couldn’t help but wish she wasn’t so hot-headed. He lifted his hand, gently brushing his knuckles across the bruise that was slowly forming on Melanie’s jaw. “But in the future, just promise me that you’ll think before you go punching anyone else… I really hate to see you get hurt.” 

“It’s sweet that you care so much,” Melanie said quietly, her heart dancing in her chest as she drew her hands up and over his shoulders, feeling the subtle way in which they loosened beneath her touch. “And I promise I’ll try to think before I act next time… But for now, what do you say we get in there and get to it? Then maybe afterwards you can let me buy you a drink by means of an apology.” 

“As appreciative as I would be of that, it would be ill-advised. Someone could see us.” 

“Oh, so it’s a crime now for us to be seen together?” 

“So soon after the grand jury indictment of the woman you just got into it with? Yes, absolutely.”

“Indictment, huh?” Melanie raised her eyebrow, her tone shifting playfully. Perhaps even flirtatiously, “You’re seeming utterly sure of yourself that you’ll even get one.” 

“Oh, I will…” Barba replied equally, fighting against the smirk that tugged on his lips. “Once I get you in there, anyway.”

Melanie chuckled, although her heart was still hammering furiously beneath her chest, “Now who’s flattering who?” 

“You opened the door, detective, I’m merely following you through it,” Barba said plainly, catching Melanie’s partially flustered eye roll as he took a step back and gave her a quick once over. 

Aside from the cut on her forehead and the yellowing bruise on her chin, there was nothing about her that inherently stood out as alarming. Her t-shirt was appropriate — barely, it was actually covered in flames with what looked like Satan sat right in the middle, but luckily for him it was so washed out you could hardly make out the pattern unless you were up close. At least it was dark, though, which meant it was easily able to hide the small drop of blood that resided at the hem and made his own fists want to curl out of fury. 

As for the rest of her, everything looked as good as they could get. She must have picked up the subtle hint he’d dropped last night as he was quick to notice that her eye make-up was a little heavier and a lot more pronounced than it usually was. Even her jeans appeared to have more rips littering the full length of her legs, and he didn’t miss the extra thick and pointed chain that she’d added to her belt hoop. 

All in all, she was utterly perfect. Not just to Barba in general, or to the point where he suddenly wanted to take her to dinner rather than into the courtroom, but she was completely perfect for the point in which he was clearly wishing to get across by using her to represent this case. 

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked curiously, suddenly feeling self-conscious the longer she had to watch Barba’s eyes trail slowly down the length of her body, making her wonder if they were about to report to court. Or report to the bedroom. 

“I’m just checking,” He said simply, swallowing a tad thickly as he stepped forward and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ears, where it was just his luck that she had all of her piercings sitting prettily in. “Do you have a hair tie?” 

“Yeah,” Melanie drew out, her brow furrowing as she now found herself utterly baffled. 

“Use it,” Barba said, pulling back his hands as he retreated to his original spot. “Let the jury see you… The real you.” 

“I don’t under…” 

“Just do it,” Barba cut her off, gazing across at her all doe-eyed. “For me?” 

With a deep exhale and lazy nod of her head, Melanie gave into that puppy dog look of his far quicker, and a hell of a lot easier than she ever would have admitted to. Or liked to. She always hated how tightly he seemed to have her wrapped around his finger, yet she failed to realise that she wasn’t exactly trying her hardest to unravel herself. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” she mumbled, completely unaware of the somersaults she’d made Barba’s entire insides do as she fumbled into her pocket for the hair tie. She then pulled it out, gathering her thick curls into her hands and lazily tying them back before dropping her arms dramatically back down to her sides. “There, good enough for you now?” 

Too good, actually. Too perfect. Too beautiful. Too utterly breathtaking in every single way that I would never truly deserve you, was what Barba really wanted to say to her. But in this moment — in this reality that was far away from the dreamscape world inside his mind, all he could appropriately do was nod his head, smile, and hope to God that his face hadn’t turned as red as the heat in which he currently felt wash over it. 

“Good,” Melanie said, satisfied, tugging absently at the hem of her t-shirt as she ignored the intense flutter that rippled across her body beneath it. She then cocked her head towards the courtroom, adding breathlessly, “Now can we get this over with please?” 

“Gladly,” Barba replied, with equal breathlessness as he spun on his heels and led the way to the courtroom doors, pushing them open and stepping aside to let Melanie in first before following closely behind her. 

Watching intently as the doors swung shut Barba wouldn’t lie, the uncertain looks Melanie gained from some of the jury members as she sauntered in where exactly what he’d been hoping for. The way she had her hands shoved carelessly into her back pockets; the way her ponytail swung in sync with her steps and drew attention to her heavily pierced ears; even the simple way she had her badge sitting around her neck, knocking lightly against her chest as she crossed the room towards the table had all kinds of doubt and misjudgment fill the eyes of the jury. 

It had been exactly what he’d been hoping for: that they would judge her solely based on her appearance before they even had a chance to hear what she had to say to them. It was his plan all along since the moment he stepped foot into her home, to lead them astray and now all that was left for him to do was pray that once he executed it… Once Melanie started answering his questions with the honesty and sincerity that he knew she never once failed to showcase, that it would be enough to get him the indictment that he himself, and this city desperately needed. 

“Detective Dodds,” Barba soon began, having to constantly remind himself not to call her Melanie now that they were here. “Over the course of your career within the NYPD, how many suspects have you shot?” 

Wow, Melanie thought to herself. Skipping the foreplay and going straight to getting down and dirty? That had better not be an indication as to what Barba was like in bed, otherwise she might have to rethink her attempts at getting him there. 

“I’ve shot five,” Melanie replied honestly, clearing her throat and shifting a little uncomfortably in her seat when she caught the disgusted looks that flashed across the jury members faces. She always hated admitting that without people knowing the true story, therefore, to Barba’s relief, she was quick to elaborate, “However, only one of those suspects was fatally wounded.” 

And just like that, the jury members' opinions of the rough and tumble detective that sat in front of them soon began to change for the better. 

“Only one?” Barba mused. He already knew most of this from his time spent with Melanie, but alas he still had to ask. He had a point to prove, of course, and he could already tell that it was going swimmingly. “Now why is that? I thought police officers were trained to shoot to kill.” 

“We are,” Melanie nodded, keeping her eyes fixated solely to those in front of her. “But unless I can see clearly that there’s a gun in their hands. Or that there’s a significant threat to myself, my fellow officers, or to those around me, then I simply don’t feel comfortable with killing that person.”  

“I see,” Barba muttered, and Melanie didn’t miss the partial smile that flashed across his face at the wide eyes of the jury. “Of those five suspects you shot, the one who died… What threat did he pose to make you feel comfortable enough to kill him?” 

“He was outside of a school, holding a gun to the head of his eight year old daughter that he’d been molesting for years,” Melanie explained, “I could tell that he was serious. That he was going to snap and kill her, maybe even others. So, I got myself into a position where I could get a clear shot and when I assessed that the time was right, I pulled the trigger.”

“Only once?” 

“Yes. It was a headshot, so he was dead before he hit the ground.”  

“And the others,” Barba carried on, continually glancing towards the jury to get a read on their opinion towards Melanie. And by the looks of it, she was easily winning them over. “The four suspects you only wounded… Can you tell us about those?” 

“Uh, sure,” Melanie cleared her throat, shuffling again in her seat as for some reason she felt incredibly nervous. Maybe because Barba was holding her on such a high pedestal that she didn’t want to accidentally say anything that would make the jury push her off it. “Most of them were just low level drug dealers from my narcotics days. They didn't take too kindly to being told what to do by a woman so they’d often come at me with a knife or a piece of glass or whatever, so I’d shoot them in the leg in order to subdue them.” 

“And those that weren’t low-level drug dealers? What did they do?” 

“There was only one,” Melanie confirmed, running her hand over the back of her neck as the memory of that day came hauntingly back to plague her. “Back when I was still a rookie patrol cop, I ended up in pursuit of a young man whom I believed matched the description of a murder suspect…” 

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Detective,” No he wasn’t, Melanie thought to herself. Barba loved interrupting people. “But can you please tell the grand jury. This suspect… Was he black? Or was he white?”

“He was black,” Melanie told him, and a few jury members seemed to sit up straighter in their seats as they listened intently. “I was told by some other officers that he was armed, and when I eventually cornered him in a alley he reached into his pocket.” 

“And did he pull out that weapon?” 

“No,” Melanie confessed, shaking her head, “He was going for his ID, but in the moment… When all I saw was a flash of black, I felt in fear for my life as I assumed that he was pulling out a gun. Therefore, I shot him.”

“How many times did you shoot him?” 

“Once. But only in the shoulder, which gave me ample time and opportunity to see that he was actually unarmed.” 

“So what you’re saying is that… as a rookie patrol officer, you were in a sole pursuit of a man who you assumed was a murderer and yet when you cornered him…” Barba reiterated, “When you thought that he was going to pull out his weapon and quite possibly kill you, that you only shot him once? And in the shoulder, not in the chest or in the head?” 

“Yes, that’s correct,” Melanie confirmed, noticing the sudden way in which the grand jury members had started scribbling on their notepads like their lives depended on it. 

“So in your opinion, did Sergeant Donlan, Detective Dumas and Detective Campesi… Did they have any other options other than to fire at Terrance Reynolds not just once, but thirty five times?”

At that question, it was as though Melanie was a fish flopping on the deck and the grand jury were the seagulls from Finding Nemo. All eyes were fixated on her. The clear distaste that coated the last three words that left Barba’s lips practically dripped from his tongue and had spread out among the entire room, which only made Melanie that much more certain of what she had to say. They did have options. They knew that. The department knew that. Yet the only ones who were actually brave enough to admit it aloud seemed to be sitting or standing in this room, and regardless of whatever professional obligations she thought she might have had, Melanie knew that it was solely up to her to tell the jury the truth.

“Yes,” Melanie said with the utmost certainty, feeling a small weight for her own mishap in her rookie days be lifted from her shoulders. “Yes, I believe they had options. And had I been there myself… I can wholeheartedly say that I would not have fired my weapon without visually confirming the presence of a gun first.” 

“Thank you, Detective Dodds. That’s all the questions I have for you. You may step down,” Barba said, nodding his head appreciatively. He kept his eyes subtly trained on Melanie as she scooted back on her chair and stood up, rounding the table where she flashed him a quick look that screamed I’ll be waiting for you outside, before disappearing through the doors. 

Silence then began to fill the room as the jury finished going over their notes and Barba continued to fight against the smile that so desperately wanted to rise in his face. He’d been right in saying that Melanie was exactly what he’d needed to win over the jury. He saw their faces, when she told them of her own endeavours and at the end… When she’d explicitly told them she would have not, under any circumstances, fired her weapon at Terrance without confirming the presence of a gun, he knew he’d got them. 

Now all he needed was the winning show of hands to prove it.

“You have in front of you the charges of reckless endangerment in the first degree or criminally negligent homicide.” 

A jury member then raised his hand, “Before we vote, is it possible for us to indict on more serious charges?” 

“Excuse me?” Barba questioned, blinking rapidly as he had trouble believing what he was hearing. 

“Well, based on what Detective Dodds just said, I don’t… I don’t think we’re looking at simple recklessness or negligence. I think we’re looking at murder here,” The jury member explained, and quite a few of his fellow peers nodded in agreement. “Can we bring a charge like that?” 

Well… this was new, Barba thought to himself. Perhaps Melanie did too well of a job than he had originally been hoping for, which honestly, wasn’t all that surprising. But he wasn’t about to go telling her that though, as he really didn’t need her riding the high of it and acting all smug for days on end. 

“That is well with your preview,” Barba replied, stepping out from behind the podium, “But I would like the grand jury to understand that in order to prove manslaughter one or above, you have to prove intent. That’s a much higher legal standard requiring an increased level of mens rea. Intent versus negligence.” 

“Well, I’d like you to explain that standard,” The jury member told him, “You know, for manslaughter. Murder. Whatever… Walk us through everything.” 

“I can, but before I do, I’d like to see a show of hands. How many of you would like to hear the definition of those charges?” Barba asked, glancing down at his paperwork for no more than a second before looking back up, only to find that more than half the grand jury had their hands raised in response to his question.

Okay… This was going to take a lot longer than he thought, and he could only hope that Melanie would choose to stick around and wait for him as he talked the jury through those charges as quickly, yet informatively as he could. Surely she would, right? After all, she’d had him waiting almost an hour for her to show up earlier, so really, she owed it to him to wait. Besides, it wouldn’t take that long… Thirty to forty minutes max, and what was that if not nothing? 

That’s what he thought anyway, but actually it appeared to be everything as by the time Barba managed to escape the courtroom with a manslaughter charge for two of the officers and a reckless endangerment charge for the other nestled securely in his back pocket, Melanie was nowhere to be seen. In all honesty though, it had been a long shot as to whether or not she truly would have waited for him, and he couldn’t exactly hold it against her when he knew well that she always needed to be somewhat occupied. She never could sit down and just wait for however long she needed to without growing antsy, and given the lack of people in the hallway for her to bug and use to pass the time, it was no surprise to him to see her gone from it so soon afterwards.

Because of that awareness, Barba simply chose to accept the outcome with a faint cloud of disappointment cascading over him, rather than go off aimlessly in search of her. She could be anywhere, and he was too tired to wander the halls in hopes of coming across her, so instead he just headed back upstairs to his office. He sent Carmen home the second he arrived then broke out the scotch, unbuttoning his jacket and slumping roughly into one of the chairs in front of his desk before flicking on the TV. 

“We are extremely gratified that the grand jury has decided to indict Sergeant Donlan and Detective Campesi on manslaughter one, and Detective Dumas on reckless endangerment. This is just the first step toward justice for Terrence…”  

“If I’d have stayed out there a few minutes more, you might have gotten to see me trip up those steps behind them,” came Melanie’s humour filled tone as she appeared in his doorway, leaning her arm against the frame and watching as Barba’s eyes drifted tiredly towards her. 

The mere sight of her alone made him perk up a little. He sat up straighter and turned off the TV, tilting his head to get a better look at her as she stood there, happily nibbling away at a donut and not caring at all if she was getting sugar all over his carpet. Not that Barba cared either. He was just glad she was still here, with her pretty smile and those luscious locks of hers that were flying freely again, splaying messily over her shoulders and only making him that much more desperate to finally know the feeling of running his fingers through them. 

“Sorry I was gone,” Melanie said, her chest feeling like it had been taken over by butterflies with the mere way in which Barba gazed at her. “You were taking too long in there so I went to get a pretzel.” 

Just like that Barba snapped instantly out of his daydream and tilted his head, his eyes falling to her hands as a smile tugged at his lips, “ Mi cariño, that’s a donut.” 

“I know it’s a donut, you… donut,” Melanie retorted, her brow a little furrowed, “But I didn’t say I only got a pretzel, now did I?” 

Barba just shook his head and chuckled quietly as he glanced away, seemingly outwardly amused by her tale yet at the same time Melanie couldn’t help but notice the genuine lack of humour in his tone. It almost sounded empty… Not at all like the Barba she would have expected to see so quickly after his winning indictment and that made her forehead soon crease with worry as she delved deeper into his office, settling herself on the arm of the chair next to him.

“Hey, why are you all sulky all of a sudden?” She asked softly, nudging his foot with her own in order to get him to look at her , rather than down at his drink. “You got your indictment, didn’t you? You should be happy.” 

“They indicted them for manslaughter,” Barba replied, taking a long sip of his drink as Melanie finished the last bite of her donut and dusted off her hands. “I knew this case was gonna be tough from the get go, but now?” 

A harsh pfft left Barba’s lips soon after and he downed the rest of his drink in one swift mouthful. 

“You’ll manage,” Melanie said supportively, reaching out a hand to place it gently on the back of his neck. “You’re Rafael Barba… You're the DA who won a case where two boys raped a pornstar. If you can handle that, then you can handle this.”  

“You’re forgetting that the judge overturned that verdict,” Barba said bitterly, looking away from her in shame and instead down at his empty glass, wishing he could refill it with his mind at the reminder of that day. 

“You still won though, didn’t you?” Melanie asked, drawing her thumb over the back of his head until he drew his purposely blank gaze back up to face her. “Not only on that case, but on countless other cases that any other ADA would have declined to prosecute. Look, I know you lack faith in yourself sometimes, but you’re good at what you do, Rafael, and I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be able to win this case too.”   

At those genuine sounding words, Barba’s heart clenched tightly in his chest as he found himself at odds over what to do next. He’d always known Melanie admired the way he presented himself in court. He’d seen her there himself, countless times just sitting in the gallery when she wasn’t even involved in the case in question and pretty much every single time that seemed to give him the courage he needed in order to hit a slam dunk and take the victory home. 

She’d even told him, when he was feeling down, that when it came to being in that courtroom that he was formidable. That he was relentless. That he was a goddamn weapon — her own words — yet half the time he didn’t know whether or not she was serious or if she was simply messing with me. But now, with the way she was looking at him? Hearing that sweet sounding tone… Hearing that same truth he’d just heard downstairs leave her very own lips as she stood tall before him? It was overwhelming to say the least, and he couldn’t seem to find the words he needed to respond properly. 

“Your faith in me is astounding,” Barba replied breathlessly and with forcible sarcasm. 

“I know. And you’re lucky to have it,” Melanie said humorously, sensing that Barba wasn’t feeling quite up to getting all touchy feely right now. ”Now, what do you say to calling it a night and letting me take you home?” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Barba protested, watching as Melanie’s posture suddenly stiffened when she pushed herself off the arm of the chair and straightened.

“Rafael, you just indicted two cops for murder,” She said seriously, leaning forward to place her hands on the arm of his chair as her eyes slowly widened with every next word, “I’m taking you home.” 

Knowing it was useless to argue, Barba gave in, a deep, overzealous sigh leaving his lips as he stood up, “Fine, you can take me home but I’m not getting on the back of your bike.” 

“How’d you know it was mine?” Melanie asked, arching her eyebrow and maintaining her position. 

“Because I’m good at what I do,” Barba replied wittly, with Melanie’s very own words that only made her draw her tongue slowly over her back teeth as he chuckled oh so pleased with himself. 

“For your information, I don’t ride my bike to work, but if I did…” She drew her eyes slowly up and down the length of his body, then couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, “That would be an amusing sight.” 

Pushing herself off his chair and finding great pleasure in the way he glared, Melanie did nothing but watch as Barba buttoned his blazer and bit his tongue from spilling any quips he may have had with that statement. She then folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against his desk, waiting patiently for him as he shuffled around the place and began to gather his things in order for her to get him home safely. 

Once he was done they got there in record time, during which Barba had prayed to all the Gods that existed that he would live to even see the trial, and by the end of it he’d made a silent vow with himself never to get in a car with Melanie again. Her road rage was… intense, to say the least, and he was pretty sure she committed at least three misdemeanours on the short drive it took to get to his place. Not to mention she’d verbally accosted a pedestrian for jaywalking… Twice. But those he was actually rather proud of her for as if there was one thing he hated when it came to travelling, it was jaywalkers. 

“I see why Carisi doesn’t let you drive,” Barba mumbled as he got out of the car, feeling like his legs were made of jelly because they’d literally driven at the speed of sound. 

“What do you mean? I’m an excellent driver,” Melanie said innocently, yet she kept having to roll her lips to stop herself from grinning so something told Barba she knew all too well that that was a lie. “Got you here in one piece, didn’t I?” 

“Barely,” Barba muttered, choosing not to say anything about the fact that she was following him into his apartment building as though she lived there herself. He went to sign in with the doorman as Melanie lingered beside him, her pale fingers wrapped around the shiny gold bar of the desk as she leaned back, gazing up at the extravagant chandelier that hung in the foyer with wide eyes.  

And she thought her place was fancy.  

Letting out a slow, impressed whistle, Melanie dropped her eyes to meet him, “My tax dollars at work, eh?” 

“As if you even pay your taxes,” Barba retorted sarcastically, ignoring the subtle smile of the doorman — who’d never seen Barba come home with anyone, let alone a woman like Melanie. 

“True… But I get shot at on a regular basis, so I feel like I shouldn’t need to pay taxes.”

As usual, Barba just chuckled and shook his head at her response as he scribbled Melanie’s name alongside his then made his move for the elevator. He didn’t even feel the need to ask if she was going to escort him the entire way up to his floor and into his apartment, as the way she trailed behind him like a lost little puppy pretty much answered that question for him. 

“Where are the stairs?” Melanie asked, glancing briefly around before Barba cocked his chin in the vague direction of their location. She then nodded, pressing the elevator button for him as she passed it whilst slowly backing away from him. “What floor?” 

“Seven,” Barba replied, his lips twitching at the way Melanie’s face dropped slightly at just how many flights of stairs she’d have to climb and perhaps that’s the reason as to why she opted to live in a brownstone. The elevator then pinged and he glanced at it, watching the doors slide open before his eyes drew back towards her, his eyebrow raised knowingly, “See you up there.” 

“Not if I see you first,” Melanie said with a grin, spinning on her heels and literally bolting for the stairwell door. She disappeared beyond it, the door swinging furiously in place before Barba even had the chance to step into the elevator. 

Once he did, however, he hit the button for his floor before he’d even turned around. Then, he began to repeatedly push the close door button as a sudden need to beat her up there came washing over him. It was strange. He wasn’t usually this competitive over silly things such as this, and honestly, nor would he have allowed himself to be, but there was just something about Melanie that seemed to coax out his inner child. The one he thought was long gone after years of seeing such heinous crimes brought before him, yet the very same one that was now solely responsible for the way he rocked back and forth on his heels, his eyes following the small dial at the top of the elevator as he waited (im)patiently for it to reach his floor. 

He knew for a fact, he was going to beat her there. Seven flights of stairs was a lot for her to climb against the speed of an elevator, regardless of how many she stepped up at once, and when it finally pinged in his favour, the doors sliding loudly open, Barba’s features turned smug and he stepped out, with the fullest intention of rubbing it victoriously in Melanie’s face brewing deep in his chest. 

“Took you long enough,” Melanie said calmly, already leaning against the wall next to the window opposite him with her arms folded. 

Confused, Barba’s brow fell the minute he spotted her, his finger continuously waving between her and the stairwell that she still should have been climbing, “How did you…?”

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me, counsellor,” Melanie replied, pushing off the wall and dropping her arms back down to her sides. She stalked up to him, his mouth still partially gaped in wonderment as she gently patted his chest, “So for both our sakes… I suggest you get yourself up to speed. And quickly. 

At that, she flashed him a rather flirtatious smile before she slid across the floor away from him, leaving him to do nothing but stand with his heart racing in his chest as she made her own way down the hall. It took Barba a few seconds longer than he would have liked to compose himself but eventually he cleared his throat in a fluster and shook his head, turning on his heels to follow her should she grow bored and end up breaking into his neighbours homes just for something to do.

Luckily though, he managed to catch up to her just as she went to walk past his door. He then reached out, grabbing her by a loose part of her sleeve and gently dragging her back towards him, hearing the gentle shuffling sound her feet made as she barely lifted them from the ground. As he let go, Melanie turned slowly around to face him as he dug into his briefcase for his keys, before a sudden, and rather loud, smash came from beyond the door and stopped him. 

“Do you have a roommate?” Melanie asked curiously, watching as Barba slowly shook his head, a small amount of fear flashing over his eyes as they darted worriedly between her and his unopened front door. She then reached for her hip and unbuttoned her holster, carefully drawing her gun and motioning for Barba to hand her his keys. “What rooms are near the door?” 

“Just a closet,” Barba replied, swallowing harshly when Melanie turned the key in the lock and raised her gun up in front of her before she quietly pulled down the handle. He then added in a whisper, “Right side.” 

Readjusting her grip on her gun to both hands, Melanie gave the door a gentle push with the tip and it opened, a relieved breath leaving her lips when it did so silently. She stepped carefully in, her shoulder opening the door further as she spun quickly on her heels to her right. The closet door was already open, her heartbeat increasing rapidly as she peered around the frame and flicked on the light. She let out a slow breath. It was empty, thank God, and so she retreated a few steps back and ushered Barba swiftly into the apartment, as she didn’t feel at all comfortable with leaving him in the hallway as God knows who could be lurking around waiting to hurt him. 

“You really shouldn’t go in there alone,” Barba said worriedly as he allowed Melanie to push him into the closet. 

“I can take care of myself,” Melanie said defensively, “But I need you to stay in here and be quiet.” 

“Melanie…”

“I mean it, Rafael,” Melanie hissed sternly, “I’ll be able to focus better if I know you’re safe so… And this is the only time you’ll ever hear me say this to someone… Please, stay in the closet.” 

“Fine,” Barba reluctantly agreed, as it was useless to argue with her. “But if, God forbid, there is someone inside, please… No heroics. I really don’t need you dying inside my apartment, I’ll never get the blood out.” 

Squinting at him, Melanie muttered, “Just for that tone, I’m dying extra bloody.” 

Barba stayed quiet and instead simply stared at her, his lips pressed together in clear unamusement at her retort as he watched Melanie give her gun a quick once over then back away. She slipped out through the door, closing it quietly behind her and leaving him to stew in the confines of his stuffy closet whilst she went out in search of a possible intruder. His heart was in his mouth, beating so profusely he felt like spitting it out onto the floor and abandoning it there whilst he ran after her. He didn’t like waiting. He didn’t like being benched on the sidelines whilst she went out there and quite possibly put her life in danger for him. 

It was his apartment. He was a fully grown man, it should have been him that was out there checking things out whilst Melanie took safety in this tiny closet. But he knew better than to ever argue that with her. She’d only pull the this is the 21st century and woman aren’t damsels in distress anymore card she used often and whilst that’s not at all what he was implying, he just wanted her out of harm's way because he loved her, he didn’t have it in him to go through that again. 

Therefore, he did nothing but stand there silently.

That was, until he heard a faint scream coming from the direction of his bedroom and like a bat of hell, he found himself running in the very same direction before he could form a single coherent thought.

“Melanie!” Barba called out, his chest heaving with worry as he burst through the door. The first thing he saw was Melanie, just standing there, in the middle of his bedroom with her hair a little messier, her gun hanging loose by her side and all the colour now gone from her face. “Melanie?” 

The sound of his worried voice dragged her back to reality, and she turned to him, placing her hands on her hips as she frowned, “What did I tell you about staying in the closet?” 

“You screamed, what was I supposed to do? Let you die in my bedroom?” Barba sniped, his eyes shifting from Melanie’s still startled looking face to the vase that lay in pieces on the floor. His brow creased and his gaze lifted, landing directly on the open window just next to where the vase used to sit. “What happened in here?”  

“Nothing,” Melanie said quickly. Too quickly that Barba couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow unconvincingly towards her. She then sighed, holstering her weapon and refusing to look at him as she shyly began to mutter, “It was a… pigeon.” 

Blinking, Barba questioned, “A what?” 

“A pigeon,” Melaine said louder, her cheeks flushing red as her slowly pronounced words stunned Barba. For a split second anyway , before his face easily loosened up and he slowly but surely began to roll his lips. She pointed at him, her features tightening, “Don’t you dare laugh.” 

Unable to open his mouth from fear of laughing, all Barba did was raise his hands in surrender, his eyes trained on the dark painted fingertip Melanie kept suspended in front of him. However his lips kept twitching. Even his stomach began to tremble out of desperate need to let it out, and eventually he couldn’t hold back anymore. A deep laugh was rattling up his chest and he threw his hand to his mouth, covering it as he tried his hardest to stifle his amusement as Melanie did nothing but glare at him. 

“I’m leaving,” She said flatly, spinning so fast on her heels her hair created a gentle draught that swept over him in a cloud of the fresh apple scent he was becoming far too addicted to, “And I really hope that pigeon comes back and pecks you to death.” 

“Melanie,” Barba called, his tone breathy as he was still laughing quietly to himself as he darted after her, hooking his hand around her elbow and halting her in place in his living room. He cleared his throat and rolled his lips in an attempt at composing himself before she turned around to him, nothing but pure embarrassment written all over her face. “Are you alright?” 

“No,” Melanie grumbled, “I was just attacked by a pigeon.” 

Picturing exactly… that, Barba’s lips twitched again and this time he had to fight a lot harder to stop them. 

“Rafael, so help me,” Melanie warned, a soft sigh escaping her nose as she closed her eyes. Her almost motherly tone was all Barba needed to snap out of it, and when she opened them again, his body had relaxed and he’d stepped even closer to her, placing his hands comfortingly on the sides of her neck.

“Would you like a drink?” Barba asked, and all Melanie did was nod her head almost furiously in response. A smile rose on his face as he drew slow circles against her rapidly beating pulse, hoping to help calm her down before she did die in his apartment. Only instead of an intruder being the cause, it would have been a heart attack. “Go sit down, make yourself comfortable and I’ll get you something strong.”  

“Thank you,” Melanie exhaled, an appreciative smile twitching at her lips as Barba’s hands left her neck and he stepped back, allowing her to make her way almost absently towards the light grey couch as she mumbled, “I really hate pigeons.” 

A soft chuckle that only he could hear left Barba’s lips as he unbuttoned his blazer and slipped his arms out, setting it neatly over the back of one of his chairs as he made his way across the room and towards the kitchen. He loosened his tie and tossed it on the breakfast bar as he passed it, opening his cupboard and lifting out two clean glasses before grabbing a bottle of scotch he’d yet to open and taking it in its entirety back to the living room with him. 

By the time he got there, Melanie was already curled up on the farthest couch away from him — no doubt due to its position up against the wall which allowed her ample view of the entirety of his apartment. He rarely ever sat on that couch himself. In fact, he sometimes didn’t know why he’d bothered to get another couch as it wasn’t like he used his first one often enough to even warrant him needing another. 

But at that moment he was incredibly glad to have it. That couch was the only place in his apartment, bar his bed, that they would have been able to sit with a wall behind them, and more than anything, did he want Melanie to feel comfortable enough to want to stay. And by the looks of it she was. Her badge and gun were sitting on the coffee table. She already had her boots off and her feet tucked safely under her legs, nothing but the tip of her toes poking out from beneath and Barba didn’t miss the small details of her shark patterned socks. It was just like her to wear bright, colourful socks under her dark exterior and they made him smile as he shuffled past the other couch to join her, taking a seat at the opposite end and leaning towards the coffee table in order to set the contents of hands down. 

Sparing no time, Barba then unscrewed the lid of the bottle and poured Melanie a rather generous serving of the amber liquid within. He passed her the glass and watched as she brought it shakily to her lips and downed the entirety in one swift mouthful, placing it back on the coffee table where he refilled it without so much as a second thought. 

“You shouldn’t leave your bedroom window open when you’re not home,” Melanie said seriously, taking a slower sip of her scotch this time and resisting the urge to scrunch her face up at the taste. She’d always hated scotch, but she’d happily take what she could get in order to help settle her nerves. “Someone could break in.” 

“Besides a pigeon?” Barba said humorously, his eyebrow raising playfully towards her as Melanie did nothing but glare at him over the rim of her glass. He chuckled and reached out to gently pat her hand, “ Mi cariño , I live in a seventh floor apartment with no fire escape. No one bar… Spider-man has the ability to climb in my window.” 

“You didn’t hear about that guy in Chicago?”  

“What guy?”

“Apparently he was free climbing up the front of this building with nothing but suction cups attached to his hands and feet,” Melanie replied, and Barba’s eyes slowly widened. Maybe he should start closing his window after all. “Erin was telling me about it, they had to call the fire department to come and get him down.” 

“Erin? That’s detective… Lindsay, right?” Barba asked as he took a sip, watching as Melanie nodded her head around one of her own. “How is she doing? After Nadia?” 

“She’s doing okay,” Melaine told him, shifting in her seat a little and leaning her glass on her knee. “It’s hard, dealing with the guilt I know she feels. But at the same time, I think it’s a whole lot easier for her knowing Yates is behind bars where he belongs.”

Uncurling one finger from around his glass, Barba pointed at her, “That’s all on you.”  

“I wasn’t the one who convinced the jury he was guilty,” Melanie deflected, feeling a great wave of pride for Barba over the memory of that conviction. 

“That’s true,” he nodded, taking a drink, “But you are the one who suggested I use the crime scene photos to get him all riled up.” 

“I did do that, didn’t I?” Melanie said in a smug tone that had Barba sigh. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought that up, as something told him she wouldn’t be letting him forget it. “Hm, maybe I should be the one to take the bar exam next.” 

Barba couldn’t help the gentle laugh that left his lip, “Now there’s an amusing thought.” 

“Oh shut up,” Melanie uncrossed her legs and nudged him playfully with her foot. “You would love having me as your shadow.” 

“Would I though?” Barba said in retort, causing Melanie to glare at him as she began digging around her pocket for her phone. She’d felt it vibrate against her back from where it sat, over the arm of the couch behind her, which made it that much easier for her to pull out, a soft scoff leaving her lips as she glanced down at the screen. “Everything okay?”  

“Mhm,” Melanie nodded, typing a quick response before locking it and putting it away again. “It’s just Sonny.” 

Oh, you shouldn’t have said that Melanie, now Barba’s going to get jealous again.

“Says he's with the others at some bar in support of Dumas, Donlan and Campesi if I want to join.��  

“Do you want to?” Barba questioned curiously, casually, all whilst trying his hardest not to get jealous as something told him Melanie probably wouldn’t like that.  

“No,” Melanie scoffed, finishing off her drink then pointing briefly to her forehead. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not exactly a fan of detective — Sorry, ex-detective Campesi.”  

“About that cut,” Barba began, finding that he couldn’t seem to draw his eyes away from the darkness of it. “Did you see a doctor?” 

“No.”  

“Melanie,” Barba exhaled, about to carry on scolding her before she swiftly interrupted him.  

“What? I was already running late, okay, I didn’t want to keep you waiting hours whilst I waited for a doctor to do the same thing I can do myself.” 

“Oh, so you can give yourself CT scans now, can you?” Barba said with minor sarcasm, his eyebrow raised. 

“I don’t need a CT scan, I’m perfectly fine.” Melanie protested, “All it really needs is a proper clean and I can do that myself.” 

Barba narrowed his eyes doubtfully towards her as she refilled her drink and began sipping on it. He knew, in one hundred percent certainty, that Melanie’s definition of a proper way of cleaning her cut would be in the middle of some bar after she’d splashed vodka on a napkin and dabbed half-assedly at it until she was satisfied enough that it wouldn’t kill it. Of course, he knew well enough that it more than likely wouldn’t kill her, but there was still the chance it could get infected if she left it any longer without giving it a proper clean, and infections could only go and lead to all kinds of more serious issues — ones Melanie would excuse away until it was too late for her to do anything.

And so, with that lingering worry now etched deep in his mind, Barba leaned forward and placed his glass on the coffee table before standing up. 

“Wait here,” he said, not even giving Melanie a chance to respond with her face, let alone words, before he shuffled towards the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with a first aid kit that made Melanie roll her eyes. She said nothing though, instead she just took a drink as she let him soak some gauze with peroxide before taking a seat closer to her. “Lean forward.”

Melanie didn’t move.

“Lean forward,” Barba said again, this time with a little more firmness.

Sighing exasperatedly, Melanie rolled her eyes and gave in as she knew it was useless to fight with him on it. She shifted forward a little and adjusted her head so that he could reach her, a quiet wince escaping past her lips at the first touch of the peroxide against her cut, along with a gentle shiver rippling down her spine at the first brush of his fingers against her skin, which made her want to hold her breath as he was so dangerously close to her lips.

“How did this really happen?” Barba asked softly, dabbing carefully at her forehead and watching as the white gauze turned a faint pink-ish colour between his fingers. 

“I told you,” Melanie replied plainly, her heart warming at the delicate touch Barba seemed to have with her, and it almost made her wonder if first aid was all that he was gentle at. “Campesi rammed my head into the wall when I walked away from her.” 

“She just rammed your head into the wall?” Barba repeated questionably, and Melanie hummed in agreement. Somehow, he doubted that. “Unprovoked? Seriously?” 

“Well…” Melanie drew out, chewing at her lips. “Maybe not entirely unprovoked.”

There it was, Barba thought to himself. There’s what she wasn’t telling him. 

Continuing to dab at her head, he sighed, “What did you do?” 

“Nothing… much,” Melanie confessed, watching as Barba swapped out his bloody piece of gauze for a fresh one and encouraged her to elaborate. “But she started it, okay, she got all up in my face when she saw me talking to my dad.” 

“Your dad? Why would that provoke her?” 

“Because she overheard him telling me that no matter what, he trusted me to do the right thing,” Melanie said with a sigh, absently raising her hand to hold back her hair in order to allow Barba better access to her forehead — which at this point was as clean as could be but neither of them seemed to want the brief contact to stop just yet. “She thought he was talking to me about my testimony against her.” 

“But I’m guessing he wasn’t?” 

Melanie shook her head, forcing Barba’s touch away from it, “He was talking about Mikey. But before I could explain that to Campesi, she was already all up in my face about being a daddy’s girl.” 

Barba raised his eyebrow, “And that’s when you hit her?” 

He wouldn’t have put it past her if that was the sole reason as to why she did. 

“Not exactly,” Melanie said, falling back against the couch and running her fingers through her hair as Barba stayed where he was, which was close enough to her that she could feel her knees brush over his outer thigh. “When she was done she told me I better watch my back…” 

Watch her back? That wasn’t what you’d call a comforting thought to have pop into your head and without realising, Barba shuffled closer to her.  

“Now, of course I wasn’t going to let that slide so in response I said: or what, are you gonna shoot me in it too? And when she didn’t say anything I went to walk away… That's when she slammed my head into the wall and that’s when I punched her.” 

“She threatened you?” Barba fixated on, as it had been the only part of her tale that had actually gotten into his mind. Mainly because the idea, alone, terrified him. 

“She tried,” Melanie replied, trying her best to reassure him. “She talks a big game but she doesn’t have the balls to go after me. Not with who my dad is.”  

“Still, you should watch yourself…” Barba said, reaching out to place his hand atop her open palm and feeling his heart leap when she dropped her eyes and immediately laced her fingers with his. “With the city and the department the way it is right now, you don’t know who you can trust.” 

“I know I can trust you,” Melanie whispered, glancing back up at him with a whole new softness. She tightened her hold on his hand and placed her other one atop it, drawing her thumb lightly over the softness of his skin. “And I know that I’m safe here.” 

“Unless anymore pigeons get in through the window,” Barba smiled jokingly, as he simply couldn’t trust that any of the emotion filled words that wanted to pass over his lips wouldn’t send her running right out of his apartment. 

Melanie’s face easily fell at that remark, and she frowned, “On second thoughts, have I ever told you that I hate you?” 

“Frequently,” Barba responded, yet he was still smiling wide as even in her playful grievance with him she’d yet to let go of his hand. 

Because of that, Barba took a brave step forward and lifted his free one, lightly drawing the back of his knuckles over the darkening bruise on her chin before he uncurled his fingers, splaying them across her cheek to cup it gently and feeling as she tilted her head to better fit into the warmth of his touch. He slowly started to drift closer to her, his heart hammering in his chest with every inch he closed between them as his gaze never once shifted, the two of them staring so intimately into each other's eyes that a whole flock of pigeons could fly in and Melanie wouldn’t even have blinked. 

Like opposing magnets, their lips continued to draw closer and closer together. It was slow, they’d both admit that. Slower than either of them would have necessarily liked after all the times they’d been left wondering what the other tastes and feels like, but at the same time… Just being able to feel one another's breath escape past their lips, puffing out hot over their skin and sending waves upon waves of goosebumps cascading over their bodies was almost enough for them not to want to let their lips touch because what if it was nothing like what they were both hyping it up to be? 

It was possible. That it wouldn’t fulfil the expectations they’d both been expecting but regardless of that worry, as deep down they both knew it would be as heated and breathtaking as they pictured it, they continued to close the gap between them. Barba’s hand had made its way through Melanie’s hair and to the back of her neck, subtly helping to bring her closer to him as her stomach flipped and just as his lips were about to finally meet hers after the relentless torture he’d been through the past few months, Melanie’s phone buzzed in her pocket and out of instinct she turned towards it. 

Kissing her cheek instead, which she seemed to not feel at all, Barba’s eyes closed exhaustively and he drew back his head and dropped his hand, his jaw clenching so hard he thought it might have ground to dust beneath his skin at the sight of Melanie checking her phone. 

She was checking her phone. During this… desirable and quite frankly overdue moment that was just about to happen, she was actually checking her phone and Barba couldn’t help but feel an unfathomable amount of rage course through his veins at just who she was most likely texting.  

“Let me guess, Carisi again?” He muttered bitterly, venom practically dripping from his tongue as he shuffled across the couch and back to his original spot, resting his chin on his closed fist as he all but huffed. 

Melanie didn’t answer him. She didn’t even hear him, and as all the colour ran from her face she brought her hand up to her mouth, parting her lips with a single finger as she let out a slow, shaky breath. That caught Barba’s attention easily and his mood soon shifted, his body moving back towards her on its own accord at the thought of something bad having happened and yet all he was worried about was not being able to kiss her.

“Melanie, what is it?” He asked, placing his hand on her arm and drawing her distant gaze towards him. “What happened?” 

“During a traffic stop, a rookie patrol officer was shot…” She told him, swallowing thickly as she lightly shook her head. “He was only 24 and uh… He didn’t make it.” 

“God,” Barba exhaled, running his hand roughly over his chin as Melanie set her phone down on the coffee table with a rough clack and leaned her elbows on her knees, running her hands down her face and up into her hair. 

Both of them had always known there’d be retaliation coming for what happened to Terrance. Protesting. Rioting. Unprovoked attacks on police and other New York citizens, but neither of them thought it would ever get so bad so quickly and with a deep sigh at what the world was apparently coming to, both Melanie and Barba glanced over at each other. It was as though their brains were running on the same wavelength, as barely seconds after they did, the exact same words lips slipped past their lips and out into the air, 

“I need another drink.” 

And it was safe to say that where one bottle of scotch soon ended, another one after had quickly begun. 

<- Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 ->

[ternfic]

Penance

Chapter Three: Bad Moon Rising

Unikitty bounded over as soon as she saw Emmet, Lucy, and Benny arrive, nearly bowling the spaceman over. “Your tactics didn’t work either, did they?” she ventured, and Benny pouted.

“No…”

“Tactics?” Emmet asked, giving the pair a curious look.

“I have a really bad feeling about them going on this trip,” Unikitty admitted. “We tried convincing the Cops and Busy to just stay and go to the party, but they wouldn’t hear anything of it.” She sighed. “I just hope they’ll be okay…”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“It’s Halloween night.”

Emmet simply stared at her. “What’s so bad about Halloween night? It’s just parties and spooky decorations and costumes and little kids getting candy.”

Unikitty rolled her eyes. “That’s how highly commercialized it’s become, but that’s not what it is.” She sat, curling her tail around herself. “You’re probably too young to remember, and I’m not sure Bricksburg ever was all that much affected by it anyway, but Halloween is the one night of the year when the spirits of the dead can return to the realm of the living, and must be appeased before they go back. In most cases, it’s just family members coming to see that they haven’t been forgotten…”

“But?” Emmet prompted.

“But,” Lucy picked up, “Sirius and Cary made a lot of enemies over the past decade. I know Bad Cop tried to prevent as many deaths as possible in the fights they often got into, but he wasn’t always successful.” Unikitty nodded solemnly.

“Something Busy did during his reign kept them from being able to come back. I think the Kragle might have actually had something to do with that. But since the two of you destroyed it, that gate is open again.”

Emmet shivered and scooted closer to Lucy. “That’s… That’s actually real? It’s not just a scary story you’re telling to freak me out?”

“I wish it was,” Unikitty sighed. “But no, it’s all true. And I’m scared they’ll get caught up in someone’s plan for revenge.”

“I think they’ll be okay,” Benny said. “They’re more than capable of handling themselves. I’ll just really miss B,” he pouted. “But he made me promise I would try to have fun at the party tonight. So why don’t we set the solemnity aside for a while and at least go say hi to Dick?”

“Let’s!” Emmet agreed, eager to move on to less unsettling topics.

The boy in question was thrilled to death to see them when they stepped through the doors. “You’re here!” he cheered, rushing forward to hug them. Lucy smiled as she returned the embrace.

“Of course we’re here, we said we’d be, didn’t we?”

“Is that the Monster Mash I’m hearing?” Benny snickered.

“Yeah, it’s already started! My friends from the orphanage came kinda early so Grandpa figured we’d go ahead! Come on, I want you to meet everyone!”

They’d popped open the top as soon as the sun had gone down enough so as not to bake them, and Sirius had enjoyed the feeling of the wind for a while, but now, as it was getting dark and they still hadn’t reached their destination, he was starting to get obnoxious. Bad Cop had to agree with his whining; he couldn’t remember it being such a long drive either. The fatigue was starting to get to him.

“Should’ve just taken your flying car,” Sirius grumbled.

“You’re the one who wanted to ‘arrive in style’, Sir.” He paused to yawn widely, and Sirius glanced over at him, surprised.

“Want me to drive?”

“When was the last time you drove anywhere?”

“Geez, fine, just thought I’d offer.” He folded his arms across his chest, starting to settle into a good sulk, when something caught his eye. “Oh hey, look! There’s a hotel right there! Let’s stop for the night. We should be close enough we can make it if we leave early in the morning, right?”

Bad Cop looked over to where he pointed. Sure enough, there was a bright neon sign advertising vacancy. He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off as his brothers weighed in.

I’m not so sure about this, Cary, that’s convenient to the point of suspicion. Besides, I thought the only hotel on this road was abandoned years ago?

Now who’s the paranoid one?

It’s not paranoia-

GuYs!! Keelan nearly shrieked them, and seemed to be done with words, as all he could manage was to shove a strong feeling of NOPE at them. That, more than Good Cop’s protests, gave Bad Cop pause. Keelan was very clearly freaked out by something, even if he couldn’t articulate just what it was.

“I’m not so sure about this, Sir,” he finally spoke. “Last Alastar and I checked, this hotel was supposed to have been abandoned, and something about it is freaking Keelan out pretty badly. Maybe we should just keep going.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Well it’s very obviously not abandoned now. It looks pretty well kept to me, and besides, you look ready to pass out as it is.” Bad Cop sighed and pulled into the gravel parking lot. “I think you guys have been listening to Unikitty too much, she’s got you all worked up over this. It’s just a night like any other, everything will be fine.” Sirius let himself out when they stopped and headed inside to get them checked in, and Bad Cop went to retrieve their suitcases. The weight of the iron crowbar tucked safely inside their own was reassuring.

He stepped inside to find Sirius speaking with the receptionist. “Certainly, sir,” the young man was saying. “We should still have several rooms available. Do you have a preference?” Sirius glanced back to Bad Cop, who simply shrugged in response.

“I think we’ll be fine with one room, as long as it has separate beds,” Sirius answered.

“Alright. Your room will be three-A, right down that hall,” he gestured in the direction of the room, “and here’s your key. You guys have a good night.”

“If I can lay down before I fall down, it’ll be an excellent night,” Bad Cop grumbled, fighting back another yawn. Sirius snickered and made his way down the hall, opening the door.

“Oh, not bad. Looks clean, at least. Décor could use some updating though, I think.”

“Sir, quit blocking the doorway.” He rolled his eyes and stepped inside, getting out of the cop’s way.

“I’m not really tired yet, so I think I’m going to walk around for bit. I’ll be back at some point.” Bad Cop grunted in acknowledgement as he dropped their luggage on the floor, then himself on the bed. He waved goodbye with one hand as he fished his phone out of his pocket with the other, bringing up Benny’s number and barely paying any attention as the door clicked shut. He hit ‘dial’ and waited, but didn’t hear ringing. Frowning, he glanced back at his phone. No signal.

“Figures,” he sighed. He’d go try to hunt for a signal in a bit, for now, he just really wanted to close his eyes…

Sirius hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was still too wired to sleep. He’d dozed several times during the drive, lulled by the heat and monotony of the desert. So now he wandered around the hotel, trying to walk off his energy, maybe talk with the other hotel guests. There was a surprising amount of people staying there, he realized, in the middle of nowhere. Oddly, he couldn’t really recall seeing any other vehicles in the parking lot…

While he was distracted puzzling that one out, he bumped into someone considerably smaller than himself, knocking them over. He paused, blinking down at the young woman he’d just sent crashing to the floor. “Oh my goodness I am so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention! I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked as he extended a hand to help her up. She ignored his offered hand and pushed herself to her feet, brushing off her dress. Sirius slowly pulled his hand back, biting his lip at the blatant rejection. Had he offended her?

“I’m fine,” she finally said after a moment.  “It was only an accident, after all.” She finally gave him a proper look, eyes widening in recognition. “You’re President Business, aren’t you?”

He relaxed, offering her a smile. “That’s right.”

“My name’s Tiffany,” she introduced, offering her hand this time. He took it, giving it a firm shake. “What brings you out this way?”

“We’re on our way to Rookburn to make nice. But the drive’s taking longer than we expected, so we stopped for the night.”

“We?”

“Oh, the Cops and myself. They insisted on coming along, thought it would be a bad idea for me to go alone, I suppose. What about you?”

“Same thing, actually! I’m traveling with my troupe, we thought it would be a nice idea to throw them a surprise performance.”

“So that’s why there’s so many people here tonight. You’re an actress?”

“Of a sort,” she grinned at him.

“Theatre?”

“Circus, actually.”

[final-girl96]

Broken World: Chapter Two

2007

"Ya fuckin' kidding me?" I let out a long sigh as I looked at Daryl. I had graduated college with a bachelor's in criminal justice and then went straight to the police academy and now I'm a cop. My hope was to become a detective and I've been trying to prove myself to the chief. That meant I needed to bring Merle Dixon in for questioning.

"I have to bring him in for questioning, Daryl. He's a suspect in a murder case! I can't just let him go because he's my best friend's brother!" I stood in front of him, hands on my hips. "I ain't tellin' ya where he is," he said, going to slam the door. I stopped it with my boot and pushed it open. "I'm going to need to look around," I said. "Ya got a warrant?" He asked, and I shook my head. "Then get the fuck outta here!"

"Daryl, come on. I need to do my job. I don't want to have to go back to the chief and tell him we need to get a warrant. Please, just let me look around. This makes you look like you have something to hide, Daryl. I convinced my Chief to let me come here alone. Please just let me in so he doesn't send someone else out." He looked down at where my hand rested over my gun. It was simply a habit now, that's all it was.

"You gonna shoot me if I don't?" He asked. I looked at him in disbelief. How could he ask me something like that? I dropped my arms to my sides and looked him in the eye. "No, Daryl, I'm not going to shoot you. And the fact that you even asked me that fucking hurts. You've been a real fucking asshole to me for the past three years." He didn't answer me. Hell, he couldn't even look at me. "Fine. Guess I'll just tell the Chief he'll need to send someone else out with a warrant. Great fucking talking."

I turned around and walked to my squad car. I flinched a little when I heard him slam the door behind me. He's acted like an asshole towards me since I told him I was going to the police academy right after I graduated college. I know the Dixons hate cops. Of course they do, both Will and Merle were constantly in and out of jail. Will usually got a night, sometimes two after being picked up from the bar.

Merle was always more than that, like drugs. He also liked to get into a lot of fights. When I found out he was a suspect in a murder related to drugs, no surprise there, but I was shocked. Merle is an asshole. He's racist, thinks women are an object, he always makes disgusting comments towards women, fuck he's done it to me. But if someone asked if I think he could be capable of killing someone, the answer would be no.

I walked back into the station and straight to the Chief's office and knocked on the open door. He looked up at the paperwork in front of him. "Come in." I walked in and stood in front of his desk. "Did you search the place?" He asked. I shook my head, "No, sir. Daryl wouldn't let me in. Said we would need to come back with a warrant." He let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry, sir." He shook his head, "no need to be sorry. You tried. That's all that matters."

After work, I went straight home. I lived in a small one bedroom apartment in town, above the bar of all places. Charlotte, the bartender and owner of the bar, insisted that I rent the apartment after I moved out of my dad's. There were only a few regulars downstairs sitting at the bar, so it wasn't loud, but it would be in a few hours. I set my belt down on my dresser, and just as I was pulling my shirt out of my pants and unbuttoning it, there was a knock on my door.

I walked towards the door while still unbuttoning my shirt. Another knock came this time louder and harder. "Alright! I'm coming, holy fuck!" I looked through the peephole to see Daryl standing outside. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and opened the door. "The fuck is wrong with you!" I was taken back at him yelling at me as soon as I opened the door. "Excuse me?"

"Merle was arrested!" He yelled, pointing a finger in my face. I swatted his hand away and glared at him. "First off, lower your goddamn voice. Secondly, I have nothing to do with that. As you can see…" I gestured down to myself. "I just got home. He ran and hid. That made him look suspicious, Daryl. He knew the guy who was murdered. He was only wanted for questioning at first until he ran, then it turned into him being a suspect. Don't blame me for your brother's stupidity."

"He didn't do anything! Merle wouldn't kill anyone, and you know it!" Still with the yelling. "If you're going to yell, at least come inside. Either that or get the fuck off my doorstep," I said. "Fuck you! Fucking pig!" He turned, walked down the hall to the stairs, and disappeared. That's just great. I took a shaky breath and closed my door. Losing my best friend over and over again was starting to really fucking sucks.

I pulled my shirt off, walked back to my room, and threw it on the dresser. I was not looking forward to going to work tomorrow. I needed to get the fuck out of this small ass town. Maybe move to the city. Not like anyone would notice that I was gone. I need to put an application into Atlanta PD. New job. New apartment. New life. New start.

I took my hair out and stripped the rest of my clothes off, then got in the shower. The hot water was a welcoming feeling. It felt amazing on my sore and aching muscles. My mind just kept going back to Daryl, and how pissed he is at me. How much he hates me now. I finished up, got up, and dressed, then decided to head downstairs to the bar and have a drink or five. I guess we'll see.

I sat at the bar nursing a beer trying to ignore Clyde and his horrible flirting. The man was old enough to be my father and was one of the town drunks besides Will. Clyde was the nice drunk who flirted with any woman he could. "Clyde, leave the poor girl alone before she arrests you and throws you in jail." Charlotte placed another beer in front of him, and he took it, got up, and walked away. "How ya doin, sugar?"

"Well, my father doesn't talk to me because his wife has always hated me. My best friend called me a pig and hates me now, too. So I'm doing fucking great!" I said. She put a shot glass in front of me and filled it with whiskey. As soon as she was done I picked it up and knocked it back. "I think I'm gonna move to Atlanta."

[cupoftaae]

Could you do one where y/n is walking to home alone at night and is scared of someone and calls tae or somethingg ? :)) I love the Forever and a Day series!

Hello angel! sorry for the delay in post, been busy offline but im gonna get through my requests now, thank you for reading and loving the series! <3

No warnings, enjoy!!

"why are we getting dessert at 1am?"....."why not?" KTH DRABBLE

"Hi sweetheart, are you just getting out?" Taehyung sat up in bed, phone up to his ear as he picked up your call.

"Hi baby, yeah.." you exhale, walking out of your building and walking to go catch the train home to your apartment.

The past few weeks youve been working as an assistant dance instructor at a fine arts school. You loved teaching and dancing everyday, but some nights were long, and you couldnt let the students leave unless their choreography was perfect.

"How was work then?" he asked, feeling more awake

"well...we finished the main choreo which is actually really good considering we just started teaching it last saturday. I think they are catching onto it now....but we still had to stay late and do costumes and what not..."

"busy, busy girl" he chuckled softly, fidgeting with his shirt as he heard the tiredness in your voice.

"yeah you got that right" you sigh and walk over to cross the street, eyeing the boarding platform for the train. "I'll be home soon, okay?"

"ok my love..."

"do you want me to pick up anything? Im at the train but I can stop quickly at the 24 hour market and bu-"

"hello!"

You stopped talking to your boyfriend as you heard a voice appear behind you. You turned to meet eyes with a much taller man wearing a grey hoodie and baggy navy blue sweatpants. He could have been anywhere between 30-40 years old.

"Uhm-..hi?" you smiled quickly, confused. You hadnt seen anyone around when you first arrived.

"whos there with you?" taehyung listens in to the unfamiliar voice

"hang on, tae" you mumble, putting the phone down as the man steps a bit closer.

"you look very pretty!" the older man spoke calmly, making you cringe. He smelled of cigarettes and booze.

"oh...thanks, im not interested in anything...im sorry. Just waiting to catch the train" you nod and point at the empty tracks in front of you, putting the phone back up to your ear as you turn

"baby whos that?" taehyung frowned, turning down the tv so he could listen more closely.

"I dont know...im at the train and some guy is just trying to talk to me" you whisper through gritted teeth.

"what??" he panics

"how old are you?" the guy asks, now closer to you than before.

"sir...im a little uncomfy with you being so close, I am just trying to get home to my boyfriend, its very late." you try to speak without your voice shaking.

"ah come on...dont be like that, im sure he wont mind if your home a little later. why dont we go have a little fun?" he mumbled

you felt your heart sink to your stomach as you immediately backed up. you wish you hadn't left your stupid pepper spray at home.

"Y/N?" tae called out, but your phone was by your side as you looked back at him. "please.....just go away" you try again

He simply laughed and continued to step closer before a cop that mustve been nearby came up behind him, grabbing his attention.

"hello sir, mind if I ask why you are out here this late?"

He scoffed, shrugging dramatically.

The cop continued to press questions as you quickly made a gesture of appreciation and fled without him noticing you.

You ran off the platform and back into the parking lot of some random store, picking up the phone to see tae was still on the line.

"taehyung??"

"Y/N, what happened? whats going on??" his voice was fast, concerned.

"I- I dont know, i ran away but some guy was near me asking me questions and I just- the cop came by but im afraid to go to the train again...im just-"

"where are you right now?" he stopped you

you turn around to see the 7/11 type market before you, "Im by the convenient store on 11th street..."

"okay stay there, go inside if you can...im coming to get you okay?"

"okay..." you breathe out and sit on the curb right next to the front door, still shaking a bit as your eyes nervously peered around the street, cars passing every now and then.

Taehyung grabbed his keys and was gone within the next 5 minutes, his own nervousness getting to him. He drove to you, keeping you on the line to speak.

"what did he look like?"

"tae i dont know, he was just older...creepy. smelled awful."

"im so sorry that this happened, are you okay?"

"im fine...im just scared now" you laugh breathily.

"im almost there, ok?"

"mhm"

your feet swung against the concrete parking lot before you saw the familiar headlights of your boyfriend pulling in. you waved to grab his attention, him parking the car close to you.

He got out and hugged you, swaying lightly. "its okay"

you give him a squeeze, "im sorry you had to come all the way over here so late.."

"shh dont apologize, you should always keep this with you though" he grabbed the pepper spray you left at home, shoving it into your backpack as you laughed.

"but its pinkkkk" you whined

"so?"

"what guy is gonna be afraid of some pink pepper spray?"

"hey, pepper spray is pepper spray, you just have the bedazzled version. You spray and slay" he shrugged, making you cringe audibly.

"never fucking say that again" you laugh, pointing in his face as he holds your hand in his, beginning his walk to the markets front door.

"why are we going in here?" you ask

"mine as well" he smiled and opened the door, walking in and eyeing the people- free isles.

You followed him as he darted to the back of the building, lifting up the glass case and picking up 2 vanilla ice creams, then going to grab 2 iced coffees.

"whats all this?"

"dessert" he looked back and winked jokingly as he made his way to ring up the items.

You scoffed and stood behind him as he paid, "And why are we getting dessert at 1am?"

"why not" he chuckled and handed you the ice cream and coffee

"valid point" you giggle, "thank you"

He kissed your forehead and led you back out to the car, getting in and enjoying your late night snack.

"so you said the cop stopped him?"

you nodded, licking your cone and looking out the window. "He reeked of alcohol so I doubt it was because he was stalking some young girl....wonder if he was even arrested" you scoff

He hummed, pondering in thought.

The car went quiet for a moment

"do you think hes in the back seat?" tae suddenly spoke, side eyeing you.

"Tae!!!" you shout, playfully smacking his arm as he defensively raised his hands

"sorry, sorry!"

"one more word and im pepper spraying you"

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Seventeen

Summary: Dieter flies home after Emily’s accident.

Word Count: 3500+

Rating: R

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites @weho2kcmo

[Text message on Dieter’s phone]

APPLE: Apple Watch “Emily’s Watch” has detected a severe car crash. Emergency services have been notified.

[Transcript of cell phone conversation]

DOMINIC: Hey, Dieter, what’s …

DIETER: Dom, tell me Emily just left your place.

DOMINIC: It’s been about twenty minutes, maybe half an hour.

DIETER: Shit, shit, shit. You have to find her!

DOMINIC: Calm down, man. What happened?

DIETER: Her watch detected a crash. I tried to call her but she won’t answer. Fuck! I … I need to get out there. You need to find her.

DOMINIC: Okay, okay, take a deep breath. I’m gonna get you on the first flight I can find. I’ll text you details. And I’ll try to find out what’s going on with Emily. Just calm down and hang tight. It’s gonna be okay.

******************************************************************************

I was blacked out for a minute, maybe two. The airbags were slowly deflating, so it couldn’t have been very long. I heard people yelling and my phone ringing but I couldn’t find it. I felt groggy, like I’d woken up from an intense nap. 

“Ma’am! Ma’am! Are you alright?”

There was a man outside the car window. I nodded. “I — I think so,” I yelled through the glass.

”We called 911,” he said. “They’re on the way. I saw the whole thing. Can you unlock the door?”

I fumbled for the lock button and the man opened the door. Cool air rushed in. “I’m gonna unlatch your seatbelt, okay? I don’t want to move you before the paramedics come but in case the car catches fire or anything I want to be able to get you out quickly.”

I nodded again. My head hurt and things looked blurry. I realized my glasses were off. “My glasses …”

”We’ll find them,” the man said. “Just relax. Tell me if anything hurts really bad.”

”Are you a paramedic?”

He shook his head. “I was in Afghanistan,” he said simply.

”Cops and ambulance are on the way,” said a woman behind him. “The people in the Mercedes look like they’re okay, but the driver might have a broken wrist. She’s freaking out a little.”

The man squatted down in front of me. “This is my wife, Michaela,” he said. “She’s gonna stay with you until EMS or the cops get here, okay? I’m gonna go check on the other driver.”

Michaela smiled at me. “It’s gonna be okay,” she said. “Tommy knows what he’s doing. We’re gonna take care of you.”

My phone rang again and I turned to look for it but my neck was sore. 

“Leave it,” Michaela said. “They can call back.”

My watch was flashing a message about detecting a crash and notifying emergency services and contacts. “It might be my fiancé,” I said. “I think the watch …”

She nodded. “I’ll go around to the passenger door, see if I can open it and look for your phone.” I could hear sirens coming closer. The passenger door opened and I heard Michaela rummaging around. ”Found it. Hello. This is Michaela Foster.” She turned to me. “Are you Emily?” I nodded. “Yes, she’s okay. The cops are on the way. Okay. Okay. I’ll tell her.”

She handed me the phone. “That was Dominic,” she said carefully. “He said to tell you that Dieter is on his way but if you need anything in the meantime you can call him. Does that make sense to you?”

I nodded again. “Yeah, it does. Dieter’s my fiancé. Dominic is his — our — business manager. Dieter’s in Toronto. He’s working.” I felt myself start to shake and I knew I was about to start sobbing. The shock of the crash was wearing off and I could feel all the sore spots where the seat belt and airbags had restrained me. The sirens were getting close.

”It’s okay,” Michaela said. “Everybody is going to take care of you. The cops are here and I see the ambulance. You’re going to be fine.”

******************************************************

The police and EMT’s asked me a million questions, which I answered as best I could. Then I was strapped onto a gurney and loaded into the back of an ambulance. “You need to be checked for concussion,” the EMT said. “And they’ll do x-rays to check for any fractures, but I think you’re okay.” She nodded toward a second ambulance. “The other driver broke her wrist and one of her kids knocked out a tooth, but you were all really lucky.”

A second EMT climbed in with us as the driver shut the doors. “Yeah, you’re lucky you were in a Subie,” he said. “That car saved your life.”

Oh, shit. Dieter, I thought as the ambulance began to move. He must have freaked out when he got the notification. “Where’s my phone?”

”It’s safe,” the first EMT said. “We got your belongings and insurance info out of the car. We have them in a bag.”

”I need … I need to call my fiancé,” I said.

She shook her head. “Not until the doctors check you out. But the hospital can call him once you’re admitted, let him know what’s going on. Don’t worry.”

You don’t know Dieter, I thought. He must be going through hell right now. “But he’ll be so worried. His mother —-.” My voice caught in my throat. “His mom died in a car crash.”

The EMTs exchanged looks. “I’ll call him,” the man said. He rummaged in a bag and pulled out my phone. “Unlock it and pull him up in your Contacts.”  

I was shaking and he quickly took the phone back from me. “Now you just relax.” I closed my eyes, feeling a bit better, until I heard the EMT leave a voice message. “Guess his phone’s turned off or something,” he said. “Maybe he’s driving.”

Or maybe he’s … I couldn’t let myself finish the thought. No, he’s on his way. Dominic said so. 

***************************************

I was finally alone. After a multitude of tests (and a nurse assuring me that she’d gotten a hold of Dieter and he knew that I was okay), I was tucked into a bed in a private room, with the low beeping of monitors the only sound. I had been diagnosed with a slight concussion, for which they were keeping me overnight for observation “out of an abundance of caution.” I had been given a healthy dose of pain medication to soothe the pain from all the bruises and abrasions and help me sleep. I was feeling dozy but couldn’t drift off. The light in the hallway was too bright and I could hear the nurses at their desk just out of my line of sight. Every time they said “her” or “she” I was sure they were talking about me and my attention snapped toward them. 

“Still awake?” It was my nurse, Mina. She bustled into the room, glancing at the monitors and making a note on my chart.

”I hate hospitals,” I said. 

“Most people do,” she said. “But you need some rest. I’ll ask the doctor on duty if you can have a sleeping pill.”

”No, I want to be awake when my fiancé gets here.” I wasn’t sure when his flight was due or even which airport he was arriving at. I’d asked for my phone so I could call Dominic, but it, along with my engagement ring and the rest of my valuables, had been locked away for safekeeping. 

“You need to rest,” Mina said again. “If you’re asleep, he’ll understand. I’ll be right back.”

She returned about fifteen minutes later with a paper cup and a glass of water. “Take this,” she said. “It’s just Benadryl but it should make you drowsy enough to fall asleep.”

I took the pill but resolved to stay awake anyway. Dieter needed to see me — and I needed to see him.

******************************************

”Yeah, she’s fine.” I heard Dieter’s voice. He was close but not next to my bed. I forced my eyes open and saw him just outside the door of my room, silhouetted against the bright glare of the fluorescent lights. “She’s asleep right now but I talked to a doctor and the nurses. Tell the kids not to worry.”

”Was that Freddy?” I asked. My voice sounded weak and creaky. I needed water.

”Hey, you’re supposed to be asleep,” Dieter said, hurrying to the bed. He looked like hell. His hair was a mess and his face was haggard. And his eyes … I wanted to cry just looking at them. 

“I wanted to see you,” I said. 

He smiled and took my hand. “I’m here,” he said. “But you need to rest.”

“So do you. You look like crap.”

”I’ll survive,” he said, running his other hand through his hair, making it stand up even more. He ducked his head. “I … I had a drink on the plane. It was a charter flight … they had a full bar … I was just so worried about you.” He looked up, his eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”

”Don’t apologize,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Situations like this are exactly what stiff drinks were made for. You must have been so scared.”

He closed his eyes. “All I could think was ‘What have I done to make the universe pissed off enough to do this to me again?’ Win an Oscar, lose my mom … get engaged, lose …” His words choked to a halt.

“But that didn’t happen,” I said firmly. “I’m fine.”

He opened his eyes and let out a ragged breath. “I know,” he whispered. 

“You should go home, get some sleep,” I told him. 

He shook his head. “I’m staying right here, with you. We’ll go home together when they release you in the morning.” He pulled a chair up to my bedside and sat down, his hand still in mine. “Everything will be better in the morning.”

I wanted to stay awake, to look at him as long as I could, but the medications and the late hour were too much for me. I drifted back to sleep, but this time I was content. Dieter was here. Nothing else mattered.

***********************************************

Dieter’s house smelled stuffy when we stepped inside. He’d been gone for almost two months, and no one had been inside except for the cleaner who’d stopped by once a week to dust and run water in the taps to keep the pipes clear. 

“It always feels so lonely when I get back from a job,” Dieter said. “I feel bad for it. A house shouldn’t stand empty so much.”

”It’s not alive,” I said, but I knew what he meant. 

“Yeah, but I think it’ll be happier once you’ve moved in. I know I will be.” He winked.

I sighed as I sank onto the couch. “Well, that might not be as soon as I was planning. Now I have to deal with insurance and getting a new car and all that mess on top of packing and moving and leaving work.”

He sat next to me, sliding an arm around my shoulders. “Dom’s hiring a personal assistant to help you with all that,” he said. “She’ll be by sometime this afternoon.”

”That’s not necessary,” I said. 

“I think it is,” Dieter said. “And so does Dom. You need to rest and recover. Let someone else take care of all the piddly details.”

”There is no need to throw money at a problem I can handle myself,” I said.

Dieter shook his head. “That’s what money’s for, to make your life easier. I know you can take care of everything yourself, but you don’t have to.”

I was tired and didn’t feel like arguing. When the PA showed up, I could try to convince Dieter I didn’t need her. It would be different if I’d been badly injured, but the doctor said other than a headache from the concussion and soreness from the bruising, I shouldn’t have any issues. I was perfectly capable of handling my own business.

“You hungry?,” he asked. “That breakfast they served you at the hospital looked like crap. I’ll make you some eggs. You like eggs.” He hopped up and headed for the kitchen. “Shit. No food in the fridge. I guess the cleaner cleaned it out for me.” I heard cabinets opening and closing. “How about cereal? There’s brand new boxes of Cap’n Crunch and Lucky Charms. But no milk so it’ll have to be dry.” 

“Never mind,” I called out. “I’m not all that hungry.” I stifled a yawn.

Dieter came back into the living room with a box of cereal in each hand. “Mind if I have some?,” he said. “I’m starving.”

”Go right ahead.” He settled down on the couch and opened both boxes, alternating handfuls of each kind. “You know,” he said through a full mouth, “they ought to make Cap’n Crunch with marshmallows. It’s pretty good.” 

“You are so weird,” I said. 

He shoved some of the mixture into my mouth. “Cap’n Charming,” he said. “Or maybe Lucky Crunch? I could be the mascot.”

The cereal was incredibly sweet but it tasted like childhood, so I allowed him to feed me a little more. “You’re my Captain Charming,” I said. 

“After we eat, let’s take a nap,” he said. “You’ll make a perfect Sleeping Beauty.”

****************************************

I woke up on the bed alone. When I’d fallen asleep, Dieter had been wrapped around me like a baby sloth. I sat up slowly, feeling every bruise and pulled muscle. I could hear voices from the living room. A quick glance at the clock next to the bed confirmed it was after one o’clock. It must be the personal assistant.

”There she is!” Dieter said as I entered the room. His hair was still tangled from sleep.

A young woman with deep dark skin stood up from the couch. Her hair was clipped close to her head and she had large silver hoops in her ears. “Hello, Emily,” she said in a rich West African accent. “I am Oladele. I will be your personal assistant for a while.”

I shook her hand. I had planned to argue that I didn’t need any help, thank you very much, but there was something comforting about Oladele’s calm demeanor. She was much younger than me but she seemed so much more adult than I had ever felt.  “It’s nice to meet you. I appreciate the assistance.”

Oladele nodded. “There is nothing for you to worry about. I have everything in hand.” She consulted her phone. “I have already contacted your insurance company. A claims adjuster will appraise your car tomorrow although from the information on the police report it will likely be considered a total loss. I will press for them to pay you the full replacement cost of the vehicle, using the high end estimate in the Kelly Blue Book. I will also ask for the highest allowable rental car rate.”

Dieter raised his hand. “I’m heading back to Toronto in the morning,” he said. “She can use my car while I’m gone.”

I was stunned. Dieter loved his little red Audi and was reluctant even to let a valet park it. “Are you sure?” I asked. “I can get a rental …”

He shook his head. “Audrey’s just sitting in the garage. You should drive her. And when I get home we’ll go shopping for a new car for you.”

Oladele nodded firmly. “That’s settled, then. You have an off work order for the next week. I recommend you stay here for at least a few days before you go home, so it will be easier for us to meet. If you let me know what you need, I’ll order in some groceries so you won’t have to go out until you feel better.”

I wasn’t quite sure if my head was spinning because I was still groggy from my nap, or the lingering effects of the car crash, or simply because Oladele was amazingly efficient. In less than fifteen minutes, she had everything squared away and was putting her contact information in my phone.

”Call or text me if you need anything,” she said. “Mr. Carrillo hired me to be your assistant and that is what I am here to do: assist. You just concentrate on recovering. The groceries will be here in about an hour and I will stop by tomorrow around lunch time to update you on how things are going with the insurance company.”

“I like her,” Dieter said once she had left. “Maybe you should hire her permanently.”

”I don’t need an assistant,” I said. “It’s not like I have a million meetings and stuff like you do.” Dieter had an assistant, a young man named Joel who worked remotely, handling all the scheduling and phone calls and the rest of it from home. 

“Well, keep it in mind,” he said. “She’ll get snapped up by someone pretty fast.”

**********************************************************

We lounged around the house all day. Dieter ordered some lunch and it was delivered at almost the same time as the groceries. “I’ll put this stuff away while you get lunch set up,” he said. “Rest your brain.” The doctor had advised that I take it easy for a few days, both physically and mentally. 

After we ate, we snuggled on the couch and watched some television, and I ended up taking another short nap in Dieter’s arms. 

“What time does your plane leave tomorrow?” I asked when I woke up.

”Seven a.m.,” he said, making a face. “You don’t have to get up, though. I’ve got a car coming.”

“And you’re sure it’s okay for me to drive your car while you’re gone?”

”Yeah. Of course.” He sounded a bit hesitant.

”I can still get a rental …”

”No, no, you drive Audrey. See how you like her.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “I know I’m kind of weird about the car but … when I saw her on the lot, she spoke to me.”

”What did she say?”

”Dieter, I’m yours. Take me home.”

I laughed, which made my head hurt. “And does she still talk to you?”

”Oh, yeah,” he said. “She told me she likes you, and she wants you to drive her.”

”I’m glad she’s not the jealous type,” I said. “I thought maybe she would resent giving up her place as the most important female in your life.”

”Well, she was a little upset at first, but I think once we go car shopping and get her a nice little brother, she’ll be happy enough.”

**********************************************

”I know the doctor said to take it easy, and I don’t want to hurt you, but …”

”I know.” We were in bed and Dieter was gently kissing my face. “I think it should be okay.”

”Only if you’re sure,” he said. “It’s just — I thought I’d lost you and I need to feel you. Be close to you.”

”Me, too,” I said. “I want you, Dieter. I need you.” I kissed his lips. “Let’s just go slow. If anything hurts, I’ll tell you.”

“Slow and steady,” Dieter said, and he was true to his word. The only glitch was when he discovered at a crucial moment that there were no condoms in the nightstand.

”It’s okay,” I said. ”Keep going.”

”But ….” Dieter was a vocal advocate for safe sex.

”We’re getting married,” I said. “And we’re both clean. Besides, the odds of me getting pregnant at my age are pretty low. I think we can risk it this once.” I wanted him so badly.

”No,” he said. “I can’t … unless you’re okay with the possibility …”

We hadn’t talked about kids. At our age, it wasn’t really on our radar. Most people my age who had kids were a lot closer to being grandparents than to having another baby. 

“Are you? Okay with the possibility …” I knew Dieter had a complicated relationship with his parents, but he was such a doting uncle to Freddy’s kids.

”I don’t know,” he said. The mood was starting to turn pensive rather than passionate. “I mean … if it happened, I’d be okay with it. But I wasn’t planning on us trying …”

I cradled his face in my hands. “I don’t think this is the right time to have this discussion,” I said. “Right after I almost … got hurt badly. But we do need to talk about it.”

He nodded. “I agree. But after I’m back from Toronto. Fuck, I want you so badly right now, Em, but …”

“We have plenty of time ahead of us,” I said. “And there are other ways we can take care of our needs …” I let one hand slide down toward his nether regions and his eyes went wide.

”I’m glad I didn’t meet you until I was middle-aged,” he said, gasping a bit as my hand found its target. “‘Cause if we were teenagers I’d have you knocked up so fast …. Ahh!”

”Same, Dieter,” I said. “Same.”

[oddeyevibes]

Chapter 11: Y/N Hargreeves Robs A Bank

Summary

As the title says.

Warnings? Click Here!

A/N: Is there a such thing as Burlesque performer to bank robber pipeline???

South Dallas Bank.

That was the target you set for yourself. It was close by to where you initially landed and with the money you'd get, all you had to do was lay low and then whenever the cops loosen up their search, you would take that opportunity to high tail it either out of Dallas or out of Texas all together for a bit.

Regardless of what the early 60s didn't have, you still needed to do this right. No room for error.

First thing's first: you needed to find somewhere to lay low. You couldn't really run around with a bunch of cash.

So you found a motel. Room was pretty cheap, running about 11 bucks. So between the meal you got and that, you REALLY needed this plan to work.

Luckily, the guy that owned the place didn't ask questions. Seemingly only wanted to be left alone to watch his new TV and only be disturbed when it was for emergencies.

"Perfectly fine with me." You told him with a smile.

He didn't flash one back.

Next on the agenda: a disguise.

Now this was the first ACTUAL act of thievery. You simply found some poor dude's long coat and hat that was hanging out to dry. At another house, someone carelessly left their door unlocked, so you stole their shades and scarf.

Thus giving you a nice classic femme fatale looking disguise.

You had everything you needed. Now, it was time to act. It all needed to go off without a hitch.

And it did.

Because no one was prepared for what happened that day.

——✨——

It was a little on the hotter side for everyone in the bank looking to make deposits and withdrawals. And it seemed like the bank's central AC wasn't working well as everyone was fanning themselves in intervals. All of them desperate to make this day go by smoothly so they can get into places that HAD their ACs working today.

Even the security was halfway out of it due to the heat. This was the perfect time to strike.

All of the careful planning and still: you wanted to make it a show.

So you busted through the doors like a cowboy making his entrance into a saloon. And just like those movies, everyone stopped what they were doing to look at you.

You had only one thought on your mind when you woke up today and chose mild violence.

You were going to more akin to a gentlemen thief.

Sure this current approach was a bit rough but you didn't really have time for patience and calling cards. Plus, you were trying to make this a one time thing.

Surely, you'll find something to keep you afloat afterwards. Something..."legit".

"Ladies, gentlewoman, and everyone secretly in between, this bank is now being robbed! Now you will have to bare with me because while this isn't my first experience with a bank robbery, this is the first time I've been on the robbing side and if you all cooperate, everyone can go home relatively unscathed."

There was a long pause before a few people started giggling...rude. One of the senior tellers caught the attention of one of the guards, who pretty much tuned you out. With a condescending snap of his fingers, the teller instructed the guard to throw you out as everyone else proceeded to get back to what they were doing.

The guard sighed. Groggily getting up from his sit to begin walking over to you.

You smirked. "I was hoping something like this would happen. Allow me to show you how series this is."

You snapped for your fingers pointing in the direction of the security guard. The speed of a bright white light zooting past at a high speed caught everyone's attention as you went from the entrance doors to right behind the guard.

Screams erupted from a few of the women in the room. Just as you had hoped, fear and curiosity kept everyone in place. This was a time before you and the others existed. There were no marketable supplements to talk about your power. There was no way for any of these people to know what else you could do.

In their minds, if you could get from point A to point B with the quickness of a flash on a camera then what else could you do?

You wrapped an arm around the neck of the guard, applying a pressure that lowkey put the fear of god of him because he was a burly man with a 60s mindset. No woman, no matter her size, should be able to render him useless.

But this was the case. You were more experienced in a fight, you had to be. You knew exactly what to do to break down an opponent that would use their body as their biggest strength.

Everyone looked on in horror as the guard's flailing arms did nothing to aid him and he slowly loss consciousness and fell to the reflective marble floor.

You made a display of dusting your hands off before putting your hands on your hips and looking at the senior teller who gawked at you in fear and a little bit of offense which was funny.

"Anyone else you want me to choke out or do you want to take me to the money? Because frankly that took a lot out of me and if I have to fight some more..." you trailed off as you slowly raised your hands and began emitting soft white glows. "it's gonna get very bloody and I think so many people wanna go today."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a few people glance at the door.

"And anyone who decides to leave, just know that I DO have the means to find you and even if you go to the cops, they won't protect you...from me."

You had roughly placed your hand on the back of the unconscious guard's chair. This time, the glow of your hand burned bright and when you lifted it, everyone shared a series of audible shocks at the sight of a piece of the chair being burnt to the point of almost melting.

"Now imagine that...but its your face." You spoke with an unsettling cheerfulness.

Then you strode over to the senior teller's window, casually leaning on the counter with a teasing knock on the window and sweetly sickening smirk. "So...about that cash..."

——✨——

To say everyone was still frozen in fear by the time you waltzed out with two duffle bags filled with money and comedically, the straps were on your arms in the same way shopping bags would be positioned on the arms of happy shopping valley girl.

You had made a nice showing of your power which resulted in no one calling the police until AFTER you were gone. Of course, the police didn't believe them until they saw some of the security footage and they couldn't even believe their eyes so much that they never realized that they really didn't get a good look at you. Neither did any of the people in the building at the time.

The fear and curiosity you had banked on literally came in clutch for baby's very first bank robbery.

You laid low for a few days before you decided to leave Dallas, sure that the cops has lessened their search because they really didn't want to think about what to do with someone that could burn things to that degree with their hands.

You did surprise yourself though.

As you were listening to the newscast and icing your hands. You had the thought of "why didn't I think of burning things sooner" because...yeah why wouldn't someone who's power is light based be able to burn something.

It's not like your light powers were some heaven sent thing...probably.

You would mark this down for later. Not that you were planning on doing this again...YOU WEREN'T. This money was just what you needed to get on your feet.

This was a one...time...thing.

[addieraesfanfic]

until i found you

CHAPTER ONE: “just stay”

pairings: bruce wayne x female!oc

warnings: kissing, cussing, guns, arguing?

addie put a stray hair behind her ear as she walked through the halls of her empty home. when her father told her that her former boyfriend would be coming home for a bit she decided to come home from work early to see him. bruce wayne, her childhood best friend and the love of her life. they grew up under the same roof, her father being alfred the wayne’s longtime assistant. they started dating at the age of 16 but they broke up when bruce left for princeton two years later.

“hey dad, do you know when bruce will be here?” addie asked as she saw her father at the end of the long hallway.

“soon dear, within the hour.” he responded as he wiped dust off of an empty counter. addie’s anxiety and insecurity rose as she looked at herself in the cracked mirror at the end of the hall. she ran her hands through her freshly curled hair and ran her hands over her new dress.

“do i look dumb? like i’m putting in too much effort?” she questioned as she fixed her dress.

“of course not, you look lovely. he’ll be glad to see you.” alfred responded as he placed a kiss to his daughters cheek. she smiled in response. the doorbell rung causing addies breath to catch in the back of her throat. alfred quickly walked down the hall to get bruce who’d just arrived. out of pure fear addie ran into her bedroom practically slamming the door behind her.

she cursed to herself as she cringed at the loud sound her door made. she could hear the sounds of bruce and alfred’s voices as they made their way up the stairs and into the hall.

“hey adds, you in there?” bruce questioned as he knocked on her bedroom door. she opened the door in response, he was wearing a sweater with a blue collar shirt beneath it. he didn’t look too different since the last time she saw him, just shy of a year before. his hair was shorter than she remembered, he must’ve gotten it cut while he was away. she smiled at him and pulled him into the hug. he held her tight as they embraced eachother.

“how’ve you been? how’s school?” addie asked as she pulled away.

“good, but i’m not going back,” he responded as he sat his luggage on the ground beside him.

“why?”

“they don’t want me there anymore, but i’m glad that i decided to visit,”

“so am i. is there anything i could do to stop you from going to the hearing?” she asked as she looked at him with concern.

“someone at this proceeding should stand for my parents,” he said as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“brucie it’s just going to be more stress for yourself, you-”

“you shouldn’t be worrying about me, i’m fine, enough about me. how are you?” bruce asked, annunciating the word “you”.

“i’m fine, officer gordon offered me a job at the office as an assistant. where i basically follow cops around and get them whatever they need. it’s been going good so far, i really like gordon,”

“he’s great, i’m glad you’ve found something here addie i really am,”

“you could find something here too. just stay,” addie pleaded as she inched closer to bruce, gently placing her arms around his hips. he slowly moved his head closer to hers, their foreheads resting on one another.

“we’re gonna be late to the hearing,” bruce announced as he pulled away. addie just nodded, a feeling a little bit embarrassed at her attempts to rekindle things with her former boyfriend.

addie watched as the killer of bruce’s parents stood up, she felt bruce tense from beside her. she placed her hand on his thigh to soothe him, he placed his hand on top of hers. she didn’t pay any attention to the words that came out of Chill’s mouth, the only thing that she felt was anger.

“I gather there is a member of the Wayne family here today. Has he got anything to say?” The judge announced as he looked at Bruce. He cleared his throat and stood up. Addie watched as everyone in the room stared holes into Bruce’s head. He just simply walked away, Addie was quick to follow behind him. He ran out of the main area of the building and around the corner.

“hey! wait a sec-”

“addie just go, please i need you to go!” he pleaded, she could hear the emotion that he was trying to hide in his voice.

“i’ll be in the-" she was interrupted by hundreds of voices, questions being asked. she watched as reporters and policemen flood the room. bruce slowly walked toward the killer, several of the reporters calling our names. a blonde woman ran up to the man,

“joe! hey joe! falcon says hi.” the gunshot rang throughout the room as all of the policemen pushed her onto the ground. addie looked away, unable to watch the scene. she placed her hand on bruce’s shoulder.

“we should leave, we don’t need to see this,”

“i do.” bruce said coldly as he didn’t take his eyes off of the dying man on the floor less than 20 feet away from him. tears flooded addie’s eyes as she watched the man twitch and scream on the ground, the bullet didn’t kill him yet.

“Falcone paid the judge off, just to get Chill out in the open,” addie scoffed as she drove down the busy streets of Gotham.

“maybe i should be thanking them, my parents deserved justice,”

“but that’s not justice, that’s revenge and that’s not the same. that’s why we have an impartial system,” addie responded, trying to state her point without coming off as argumentative.

“your systems broken,” bruce responded. that set off something inside of addie, causing her to swerve off of the main road and down into an alley.

“falcone is making more joe chills, someone else’s parents are getting shot everyday. thanking falcone would be stupid, because he’s destroying everything that your parents stood for, now you wanna thank him for that? here you go,” she announced as she stopped at an old bar. that’s the bar where falcone has been staying, she went on to explain that no one will ever touch him. because he keeps the bad people rich and the good people scared.

“i’m not one of your good people addie,”

“what’re you talking about?” addie asked as she looked at bruce, worry etched in her features.

“all these years i wanted to kill him. now i cant,” he said as he pulled a gun out from his sleeve. addie’s breath caught in the back of her throat, she felt sick. she looked at the gun, she noticed the sweat that was dripping down it from bruce’s anxiety. she was furious, how could he become this person? without thinking she grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and punched him square in the nose. he groaned as he grabbed his nose, blood slowly pouring out from it.

“get the hell out of my car,” addie cursed as she shoved him into the car door. he looked at her with no emotion whatsoever. he got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. addie watched as he walked away from the car and out of sight. she held her face in her hands as she sobbed, cursing herself for hitting him, for not understanding, for not being more patient.

[girlbob-boypants]

1-21-25 for uh Guild Wars? or whatever you want

You know what yeah let's be violent about my beloved game. Oh okay this was a lot more than I expected uh lets put that under the cut

1. The character everyone gets wrong

You think I'd say my precious baby boy BUT its Caithe. She's an incredibly interesting character who is denied the actual on screen depth and arcs she needs. It's an interesting case where the people who hate her are missing the points and the people who stan her talk like she's actually given an arc instead of simply plopped into the story with a "she's better now." The key example being the fact that she doesn't show up in s4 until THE END OF EPISODE FOUR??? That's hardly her fault cause for whatever reason THATS when she's allowed to actually give a fuck about the daughter she loves so much that the moment that daughter cared about the fact that WE WERE BEING MURDERED she ignored Aurene for fuck knows how long?? And then admitting that is enough for them to ignore the psychic connection Aurene canonically has with the Commander so they can just. Set Caithe to post therapy with no real story. The people who hate her act like she's personally the cause of every single problem in the game and that setting her on fire and replacing her with a man will fix everything. Meanwhile the people who stan her claim her story was sooooo good and 100% justified and didn't fuck with things or have problems. She's a brilliant concept that post HoT is executed in a parking lot. And while her parts in EoD are perfectly fine and logical it's just...ugh. She's barely there and exists purely to limit Aurene's screentime with the Commander. Which sucks cause I love both of them.

21. Part of canon you think is overhyped

All of EoD. I am going to pick at a certain part, actually. Rama as a character and especially the entire story with the cop father he has was TRASH. Not as in it's a bad idea but in that it's so terribly done. The lack of build up, the fact that it's the ONLY RATIONAL PERSON WITH A PROBLEM WITH JOON'S MONOPOLY OF TECH who turns out to be King Fascist, the way they just don't explore Li's whole being Kurzick like Rama (or at least I think that's what was being implied? It was literally just Rama saying his Secret Name in front of us and then not addressing it). It all goes nowhere and means very little beyond the strike mission. Like no we aren't going to explore this corruption of the cops, we aren't going to discuss why the society of Cantha would cultivate a minority joining a supremacist group, and we're ESPECIALLY not going to explore Rama's feelings about it for longer than a minute or two. Didn't you know his entire story is that he has a crush on a cop? Don't ask for depth, don't ask why the only people who have an issue with forest polluting tech monopolies are fascists and ecofascists, and don't ask us to give Rama lines that aren't mcu zingers. Take what you get and go make really fucking questionable jokes mocking his hat without expecting more of the expac that brutally murdered Icebrood Saga and gave us CHAMPIONS.

Not too fond, really.

Also the beast races but that's not really controversial to say it's just true. But I hate the Kodan, Grawl, and Centaurs especially. Whoever wrote their parts in s2 and s3 should be hit with a bat and robbed.

25. Common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

This one I'm actually having trouble with rn. The obvious answer is character hate and, no, I don't mean character criticism. I mean things like 'i hate Trahearne cause he sucks his voice is annoying and he's overhyped' and the many, many death wishes. This feels like a cop out but I barely scroll the tag anymore cause the game is in a weird space in my heart so I only really engage with it as I see fit for myself. Which is mostly nostalgia tinted thoughts about past seasons and expacs but hey. Better than being a rage filled ball of spite and bad faith readings like I've been in the past with things I've fallen out of love with.

I'd also say I got tired of the weird relationship gw2 has with strikes and raids both from newbies AND vets alike? This game kinda sucks at making the endgame accessible for everyone and I'm vividly aware of that but vets complain that it's stale while gatekeeping to the point of intimidation and newbies all sit and stare at the training LFG without doing anything like these groups are a match made in hell and if anet just learned how to make something like the ff14 duty finder it'd probably be a lot easier but that would require work and admitting that having some kind of role system would make class and party designs easier.