#what is up with this park being a crime scene hot spot

[pixlokita]

Nothing like walking back home after cutting your hair and seeing three police cars, police tape covering the park and people being questioned and car windows broken 🧍‍♂️ lmao i actually asked what happened 💀 they don’t know …

[universitypenguin]

Hey Alice! I’m curious as to what transpired in the hospital after princess’s attack. Was Lloyd being a doting bf or was he giving her the silent treatment even then 🙊 as always thank you for writing this series whenever I see an update my heart soars!! You’re so talented in bringing these characters to life ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for the lovely message! Unfortunately, Lloyd was anything but a doting boyfriend at the hospital… actually, his temper was running a bit hot during that scene… 😬😢🙈

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

Word Count: 762

Warnings: Lloyd being pissed off, discussion to stalking, references to a knife fight and main character being hospitalized

After Jake’s revelation that Aiden couldn’t be your stalker, Lloyd didn’t stick around.

He didn’t trust himself to be there when you woke up. Instead, he told Jake to go sit with you so that someone would be there when you woke up, and went home to study the crime scene. He met Detective Diskant and walked him through the scene, giving the investigator his statement about what happened. When that was taken care of, he went to the spot where the suspect had been captured by the surveillance camera and verified Jake’s measurements to confirm the height of the attacker. He stopped by and spoke with Mrs. Lange about the video footage, then asked her to keep an eye on his place for a while.

Lloyd went home and packed his things, collected your stuff, and loaded everything into his Mercedes. Then, he drove to your apartment, packed you some fresh clothes and threw the entire contents of your medicine cabinet into a bag. Before he left he went by to check on Mrs. Thompson, and she was the one who told him about the video camera that had been monitoring your front door.

Thanks to that disturbing revelation, his temper was boiling when he returned to the hospital. Zach met him in the parking garage and told him you’d woken up and that Aiden was out on bail. Lloyd informed him that he was taking you to the cabin, where you’d be more secure. When questioned about whether that was what you wanted, he told Zach to fuck off.

When he came to collect you from the ER holding area, the reception you got from him was anything but warm. He barely said a word to you and remained focused on getting you discharged, collecting the paperwork for your follow up visit, and signing the rest of the discharge forms. It wasn’t until you were in the car that you managed to get a chance to speak.

“Lloyd?”

The atmosphere in the vehicle was buzzing with tension as the late afternoon sun cast shadows across his face. He didn’t take his eyes off the road or so much as incline his head to acknowledge he’d heard you. The dark scowl was etched into his features and his posture was rigid.

“Lloyd, please. We need to talk.”

His jaw clenched. “Why? Why now? There was plenty of time to talk before, but you didn’t say a word. Not to me, at least.”

“I know. I didn’t tell you what was happening, and I shouldn’t have done that. But there were so many other things going on, from Singapore to Qatar and then… your father. I didn’t want to add to your problems, and I thought I had everything under control.”

His lips twisted as if he’d tasted something bitter.

“You kept this from me, Princess. I thought we were honest with each other, but clearly, that was just my own view of how our relationship worked.”

“Lloyd, I didn’t-”

He cut you off. “You lied. It was a lie of omission, so maybe you think that makes it better, but guess what? It’s worse. Lies of omission are the most effective kind of deception. Trust me, I’ve lied and bent the truth enough times in my life to know exactly what makes a good lie.”

“I’m sorry. I was scared of what you might do and I wanted to protect you.”

His breath hissed, the sound a low whistle of suppressed rage. “When I told you Tao was tailing us in Singapore, do you think that was easy for me?”

Your stomach flipped. “No.”

“It wasn’t, but I was honest with you anyways. When I cut off his ear in the bathroom? Do you think that was something I wanted to tell you about? Do you?!”

Dully, you shook your head, mumbling a quiet, “No.”

“It wasn’t! I wanted to lie to you and tell you everything was fine and that you had nothing to worry about! But you know what, Princess? I told you the truth anyways. Even when it was something that wasn’t pleasant, I still respected you enough to be honest.”

After that explosion of temper, you curled into the passenger seat and stared out the window at the landscape. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but held back, unwilling to risk another argument over what you’d done. The rest of the trip passed in silence. Lloyd didn’t turn on the radio to break the tension and he didn’t offer any opening for you to apologize further.

So you did the only thing you could and waited for him to cool down, while planning your apology for some future moment, when he’d be ready to hear you out.

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

Masterlist

[minisugakoobies]

Nothing | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, crack, DadYoongi!AU, BadCop!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: weapons - guns, shootout, someone gets shot, mention of blood, swearing, switching POVs, allusions to murder, Jimin's got a filthy mouth but probably not in the way you'd hope, tattooed Jimin, Jungkook in a police uniform, a lil' pining if you squint, Yoongi is not a good guy here and neither is Jimin (ymmv)

Word Count: 1.5k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Everything is falling apart. Will you be left with nothing?

A/N: The calvary has arrived! For both Yoongi and OC. Uhhhh also there are multiple shots fired, and no one here is a Stormtrooper so targets do get hit. 😬

Thanks to @hesperantha for alerting me yesterday to this incredible artwork by artist VermillionOrchid (not sure if they'd like to be tagged in fanfic, so I'm just linking to their gorgeous work!). Max, I was so inspired that I wrote a whole new chapter, so thank you! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Part 3 💵 Bad Cop Masterlist 💵 Part 5

The Bureau taught you many valuable lessons during your time at the academy. But there was one simple instruction that stood out above the rest: keep calm. An agitated agent is a dead agent. No matter what, always keep calm.

Try telling that now to your heart. 

With a little exertion, you manage to free your hands from Yoongi’s rope. It takes considerably more effort to turn away from where he’s sprawled on the cold cement. Long lashes flutter against pale cheeks as he slumbers, knocked into unconsciousness by your hard head. His flawless skin is marred by splatters of dried blood, like stained porcelain. But you know he’s not as delicate as his beauty would have you believe, so you force yourself to get up, dashing back into his house. You hurriedly dress and grab the box from the safe, stuffing it into the tote bag you sling in your cover as a teacher. On your way back to the garage, you spot Yoongi’s holster, and swiftly pluck a pair of handcuffs from it. 

As you’re crossing the kitchen, there’s a rap on the back door. 

You peek out the window over the sink. A shiny black and white police cruiser is parked in the driveway. 

Yoongi drives an unmarked car. 

Shit.

Slipping your handgun out of your bag, you hold it behind your back as you peer through the peephole, thankful that Yoongi’s paranoid enough to have installed one in his back door. A worried pair of doe eyes greet you. Jungkook is standing on the other side of the door in his uniform, hand resting on his gun where it sits on his hip. 

“Oh thank fuck,” you sigh as you usher him in. “I thought you were off tonight?”

“I swapped shifts with Taehyung. He had some hot date or something,” your partner replies, walking in with his gun drawn and sweeping the room, making sure you’re safe. Any other night, you’d mock him for being overprotective, but the way your heart still rattles in your chest keeps your lips sealed. “You okay?” 

You just nod, not wanting to talk about what happened. Not wanting to remember. “Come on, he’s in here.” 

Thankfully, Yoongi hasn’t moved from where you left him. Quickly, the two of you roll him onto his stomach and snap the cuffs onto his wrists, binding his hands behind his back. He groans as you turn him, but otherwise doesn’t stir. 

“So now what?” Jungkook asks, hands on his knees as he kneels across from you. 

“Now we bring him in. Did you get the lab results back yet?”

Jungkook licks at the corner of his mouth. A bad sign. You’ve been his partner long enough to know all his tells, as much as he’d petulantly insist that he has none. “Yeah, so… all that work to convince Taehyung that I ate the dumplings, instead of smuggling them out of the crime scene, and it turns out that Yoongi only laced the eaten one with the poison because none of the others had any traces. Not a single drop to be found.”

“Goddamn it.” All that effort, for nothing. You’d been hoping for a smoking gun in the form of a poisonous dumpling, but of course it couldn’t be that simple. Still, it had been better for your lab to run the tests, rather than rely on the lab in Yoongi’s precinct. God only knows how many people there are in his pocket. Anyone there could fake the test results for the right price. And Yoongi’s got money to burn. 

Your partner hums in agreement, running his hand through his raven hair. His baby face made it so easy for him to infiltrate the police department, effortlessly selling the lie of a young cadet fresh out of training. But the scar running through his right eyebrow tells a different story. It heralds him as a warrior who has fought many battles, faced death countless times, and won. The scar reminds him who he is when he’s in uniform, staring at his handsome face in the rearview mirror of his police car.

But Jungkook knows that if he’s a warrior, he’s Achilles. He can only pray that no one ever figures out his heel.

As though you can read his thoughts, you catch his eye and smile, but it’s weak, a half-hearted attempt at reassurance that misses the mark, and it only makes his chest ache. 

Jungkook gazes at the kingpin lying on his stomach on the garage floor. He’s seen firsthand how intimidating the man can be. He doesn’t seem so threatening now. “Even without the dumplings, don’t we have enough to put him away?” 

“I hope so. I mean, I know Namjoon’s been working on obtaining the financial records I requested, which hasn’t been easy since Yoongi apparently discovered how to use shell companies in the last year since his empire expanded.” You glance at the still sleeping man, missing the way Jungkook watches your face. If you know all his tells, he surely knows yours, and right now the way you chew your bottom lip makes his stomach twist. “And I’m sure we–”

You both straighten up as you hear it. A door closing in the house. The back door?

Jungkook’s hand is already on his hip. “Da-som?”

You shake your head. Yoongi’s daughter isn’t home. 

Jungkook’s gun is in his hand. Yours is as well as you follow him back into the house, one careful step at a time. There’s no one in the kitchen. 

You motion to your partner, pointing to yourself, then at the ceiling. He nods, understanding your plan to split up and check the floors of the house separately. 

“What the fuck?”

The two of you spin, following the sound of the exclamation to the blond man standing in the doorway to the living room. He wears a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, snake tattoos winding down his forearms to his hands which are gripping a giant duffel bag. There’s a loaded holster tucked under both his arms. 

“Whoa, whoa, don’t shoot!” the man yelps, dropping the bag as he raises his hands above his head.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jungkook shouts back, but you don’t need him to answer. 

“Drop your weapons, Park!” you order him. Goddamn it, you’d completely forgotten that Yoongi had called for a cleanup earlier.

Jimin merely smirks, arms still in the air. “Fuck, I knew that call was for you! I told Yoongi he was making a mistake, dating you. He should’ve gotten rid of you after the first fuck.” His dark eyes skim your figure so slowly, so blatantly that your skin crawls. “Guess the pussy was just too good.”

“Shut your fucking mouth and drop your weapons!” Jungkook growls, taking a step towards the blond. Despite the anger that radiates from your partner, Jimin doesn’t flinch. 

“Relax! I’m just going to reach… for… my… guns,” Jimin speaks in a low, soothing tone, dragging out his sentence as he gingerly lowers his hands. You and Jungkook follow his movements closely with the barrels of your guns.

In the blink of an eye, Jimin draws his weapons and starts firing. 

You dive behind the kitchen island as Jungkook lands beside you. “Shit!” 

“Fuck!” he concurs, head slamming back against the wooden cabinets as bullets continue to whizz by above you. Jimin cackles wildly, shooting holes in Yoongi’s tastefully decorated kitchen. Jungkook leans around the corner, firing off a few rounds. 

“This guy’s a fucking maniac!” your partner yells over the barrage of bullets coming from the blond. 

You shimmy around the side far enough to aim a few shots at Jimin, who promptly hurdles over Yoongi’s couch, seeking cover. Silence. He’s reloading.  

Because the two of you are deep undercover, there’s no one else nearby for you to call for backup. Even if you sound the alarm now, it’ll take too long for the nearest team to reach you. So it’s up to the two of you to end this. 

A frustrated wail sounds from the garage. Yoongi’s awake. Your seditious heart stirs again at the anguish strangling his voice. “Jimin! Get me the fuck out of here!” 

The blond leaps to his feet and bolts for the garage door, sending another deluge of bullets your way. You and your partner huddle against the island until the shooting stops. A quick glance at the door finds it ajar. 

“We gotta go,” Jungkook is already on his feet, tugging you to yours. Any second now, Jimin will have Yoongi out of those handcuffs, and then he’ll find you, and then he’ll - he’ll -

“Hey!” Jungkook is gripping your face. “Come on, we have to go! Now!” 

The two of you scramble out into the driveway. Footsteps pound behind you. Jungkook throws his arm around you, shielding you as best he can as you reach the car. 

A shot rings out. Jungkook’s eyes go wide as he falls to his knees.

You scream. 

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

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[messers-moony]

Home | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five goes through everything with his best friend, and when they return with the announcement of their marriage his siblings are appalled. 

Request: “I can request a FiveXreader where the reader is loving, sweet and naive, Five's best friend but the reader has no powers (You can invent a way how they became best friends and they are in love with each other, cliché but I love) One day the reader was sitting in front of the Umbrella Academy and saw Five leave in a hurry (The scene that he will travel in time) In this the reader does not abandon Five and decides to travel in time with him, they end up trapped in the apocalylipse, can you make them stay together?  (Like married I don't know) And also the scene where they go back to 2019? Sorry, if this so bored”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. After a failed mission, he and his siblings decided to sneak out. Klaus had spotted a park on the way home, and that’s where they went. For the first time in years, they felt like kids again. They were all ten years old and had never experienced a playground before. Allison had never laughed as much, and Diego seemed to finally forget his insecurities while swinging from monkey bars. 

Even on occasion, Luther would help Ben cross the monkey bars. Vanya was finally included, and Klaus had never seemed so carefree in his life. But Five had his eyes on someone else. She sat at one of the navy blue tables, quite a ways away from the playground, watching the siblings with a soft smile on her face. A notebook was in front of her while she twirled a pencil in her hand. 

Curiosity killed the cat. Five was too intrigued not to sit with her. So despite this probably being the only time he could experience a playground, he sat in front of her, obscuring her vision from his other six siblings. Her eyes met green ones; they looked evergreen in the dark of the night. His hair almost looked black, but she knew it had to be dark brown. 

“Good evening.” Her voice, it sounded like heaven to him, “Evening.”

It felt awkward, and the silence could’ve been cut with a knife, “My names Y/n.”

“Five.”

“Five? That’s unique.” Y/n complimented, and his cheeks flushed, “Thanks….” 

Her vision went back to the other kids, “You’d think they’ve never seen a playground before.”

“They haven’t.” Five stated, looking at his siblings, “Our father is strict, so we snook out to come here.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude-“

“You didn’t.” Five smiled, looking at her e/c eyes. 

Since then, Five would sneak out a lot more. His power was a fantastic tool. When he and his siblings began to sneak out more, Five always invited her. Klaus, Diego, and Vanya seemed taken with her. Y/n was always so kind and sweet. Her laugh radiated, and it made everyone around her smile. It was like she was Aphrodite, and he was Ares. 

After becoming friends with the academy kids, Y/n had a habit of sitting outside the academy. She usually sat on the edge of the sidewalk with her notebook on her lap, pencil in hand. Five couldn’t remember a time when her hand wasn’t covered in graphite or ink from drawing. He adored it, though, because it was so her. It made him stare at his black pens, aimlessly smiling, knowing that she probably had the same color ink on her hand. 

Becoming friends with Five meant knowing his ambition. Five Hargreeves was driven by his goals and wanted to do them regardless of the consequence. So Y/n knew about his dream to time travel despite his father's wishes. On a gloomy day, Y/n sat on the sidewalk. The only thing drawing her from her daydream was the slam of a gate. 

“Five!”

He didn’t turn, “Five!”

Y/n grabbed his arm, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m- I’m going to time travel.” Five stated with that daze in his eyes, “And you need to stay here.”

“No! I’m not letting you go alone!” Y/n exclaimed incredulously, “Y/n, please.” Five pleaded. 

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. Either we go together, or we stay here together.”

“Fine.” Five reluctantly agreed, holding out his hand for her. 

Hesitantly Y/n slid her fingers through his. They were intertwining their hands together. Five was so focused on time-traveling correctly that he didn’t notice the pink flush on his best friend's face. But he did it, once and twice—finally a third time. Smoke clouded the area, and fire could be seen for miles. 

Y/n dropped his hand and covered her mouth. Five circled in his spot in shock. He felt nauseous and queasy. He couldn’t believe that he let this happen. He shouldn’t have pushed himself. They were stuck. Fucking hell, they were stuck, and he couldn’t do anything. Y/n ran back to the academy, and Five followed her. The h/c haired girl stared at what used to be the Umbrella Academy. Now in ruins. Five dropped to his knees, tears collecting in his eyes. 

“It’s- it’s gone….” 

Y/n hugged him tightly, “It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna be-“ 

Five didn’t get to finish his sentence. He pushed her away and threw up to the side. When he finished, Y/n took her jacket sleeve and wiped it around his mouth—gently combing his hair from his face. Y/n had never seen Five look so drained. Seeing her in front of him, taking care of him made him break. Five broke into sobs holding onto her like a lifeline. Y/n rubbed his back and held him just as tightly. 

“I’m here, Five. I’ll keep you safe.”

Being thirteen in an apocalypse seems like a death sentence, but when you grow up the way Five did, it’s more bearable. The first few months were awful. Searching for shelter, food, clothes. It was downright hell, but they made it through. On cold nights Five would hold her close to his chest, and on hot nights Y/n would always manage to get him cold water. 

Years passed, and their friendship turned into a relationship. They needed each other to survive, and they just needed each other. Five couldn’t be more grateful that she insisted on coming. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone. But now, he had his girlfriend leaning her head on his shoulder while watching the fire. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, leaving occasional kisses on her temple. 

“I couldn’t imagine this world without you.” Five confessed, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” Y/n challenged. 

He smirked, “Oh, really?” 

“Don’t let it go to your head, smartass.” Y/n snorted, “Too late, it’s already there, my love.” Five retorted. 

She kissed his cheek, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.” 

Five years later. They were twenty-five, and he wanted to make it official. It was a rather cold day wherever they were, and Five was holding her closer than ever. Y/n was shivering on the old mattress they had found. She was constantly snuggling closer to Five’s chest. They laid facing each other, and Y/n’s head was tucked under his chin. Five’s hand ran through her long hair - after being unable to cut it - soothing her nerves. 

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“I want you - Y/n - to marry me.” Five repeated, looking down at her.

Her teeth chattered, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to choose from.”

Y/n glared playfully, and Five chuckled, “Asshole.”

“So, what do you say? Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

“I say that if my fiancé doesn’t stop being an asshole, then I won't marry him.” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I love you too, pretty girl.” Five replied, smiling softly. 

He kissed her forehead and allowed her to muzzle closer into him. Gently he pulled the two plain rings he found. They were battered, of course, and the gold was dirty, but that didn’t matter. Five slipped the ring on her finger and his. Y/n placed a gentle kiss on his lips that he gladly returned. Sweet, soft, passionate, and full of love. A description of how she was. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Five replied, “Now get some sleep.” 

Y/n was about to fall asleep when she heard Five mutter one last thing, “Y/n Hargreeves.”

29 years. 348 months. 1512 weeks. 10,585 days. Until a woman showed up in their shelter, offering them both a job. Five could remember pushing Y/n behind him defensively. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt in any interaction he had. The woman offered them a way home. Five turned to his wife, and she saw it. For the first time in forty-five years, she saw it. Hope. 

Y/n took Five’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. The softest smile crossed his features before agreeing with the woman’s offer where both of them became assassins—partners in crime. Nothing turned Five on more than seeing his wife fend for herself, and god, was she good at it. Y/n was so naive and innocent when she was ten. But now? At the age of fifty-six, she wasn’t that girl anymore. 

But when they reached the age of fifty-eight, Five finally found out the correct equation. They were at their last mission, make sure John F. Kennedy gets shot and everything goes to plan, but Five had different ideas. Taking Vanya’s book from his suitcase, he looked over the equations one last time. They were going back; Five would go home today. 

“Y/n.”

“Yes, love?”

Five sighed, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To go home.” 

Y/n’s smile was blissful; Five could’ve fainted on the spot, “Home?! Like- Like-“

“Home.” Five answered to his overjoyed wife. 

Y/n kissed him more passionately than ever. Five could feel her gratefulness in her kiss. His hands placed themselves on her waist, and hers were around his neck. God Five never wanted to forget this feeling. The feeling of his wife in his arms, kissing him as she would never get enough. When they pulled apart, Five opened the portal. Gripping her hand, they jumped through and landed on the leaf-filled ground in the icy rain. 

“Does anyone else see Little Number Five and Little Y/n, or is that just me?“ Klaus asked, not trusting his eyes; maybe it was an illusion from the drugs. 

Five and Y/n stood up. The first thing Y/n noticed was the ring on her finger was too big now. But Five looked down at the suit he had been wearing previously. The blazer now reached his knees instead of his waist, and Y/n’s shirt was hanging off one of her shoulders. Five and Y/n looked at each other. They were thirteen all over again. 

“Shit.” 

He grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her into the academy. Y/n had only been in the academy a handful of times before, and she usually was only allowed in Five’s room because she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. His siblings followed aimlessly and took their spots at the table. 

“What’s the date? The exact date.” Five inquired, grabbing different things around the kitchen. 

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Y/n took place beside him as Five began making a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. The same snack he used to love as a kid. Y/n could remember him trying to eat it back at their apartment the commission provided them but complained it was too sweet. It seems that being in his teenage body again made him crave the sweetness of the snack. 

“So, are we gonna talk about just what happened?” Luther questioned, but no one answered, “It’s been 17 years.”

Five scoffed, “It’s been a lot longer than that.”

The same big spatial jumped behind Luther as he began to take marshmallows from the cabinet, “I haven’t missed that.” Luther murmured. 

“Where’d you two go?” Diego asked. 

“The future.” Y/n answered politely, “It’s shit, by the way.” Five added spatial jumping beside her again and gently kissing her cheek. 

The siblings stared in shock at Five’s sudden act of affection; Five could feel their eyes on him, “What?”

“You just kissed her.” Allison stated, “And?”

Allison didn’t say anything, “Is it a crime for me to kiss my wife or something?” Five asked agitatedly. 

“Wife?!”

“Yes, wife.” Five sighed. 

“Called it!” Klaus exclaimed. 

“I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing.” Five began as he looked through the fridge, “Jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” 

He came back with peanut butter in his hand at the front of the table, his wife beside him; he took in the appearance of his siblings, “Nice dress.”

“Oh, well, Danke!” Klaus smiled. 

“Wait, how did you two get back?” Vanya questioned. 

“In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time.” 

Diego couldn’t wrap his head around it, “That makes no sense.”

Five went to remark, but Y/n cut him off, “It doesn’t have to. All that matters is that we’re back.”

“How long were you two there?” Luther queried, “Forty-Five years. Give or take.”

Everyone looked at the two teens in disbelief, “So what are you saying? That you’re 58?”

“Well, not exactly. Our consciences are 58, but it appears that our bodies are back to 13.” Y/n answered. 

“Wait, how does that even work?”

“It seems that Five might’ve gotten the equations wrong.” Y/n replied, and Five glared at her, “I’m not mad! I’m just happy we’re home. Appearance be damned.”

Five took notice of the newspaper in front of Y/n, “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How’d you even know about that?” Luther inquired, “What part of the future do you not understand?” Five retorted. 

“Heart failure?” Y/n asked, “Yeah/No.” Luther and Diego contradicted. 

Five clicked his tongue, “Nice to see nothings changed.”

The teenage boy began to walk away, “Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Allison questioned.

“What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life.”

Vanya was the first to get up and hug Y/n, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, Vanny. Me too.”

[write-orflight]

The Fraction of Innocence.

**Gif Not Mine**

Anon Requested: 10, 16, and 25 for the smutty prompts thing!!!

10: “were you just touching yourself?” ‘yeah, what are you donna do about it?’

16: “the only way you are gonna get off is on my thigh.”

25: “she may be all lollipops and candy bars, but I bet behind closed doors she’s hand cuffs and gags.”

Pairings: SpencerXReader

Rating: M, (This is very explicit.)

Words: 4K

Warnings: NSFW!!! 18+ (Dom!Spencer, BDSM overtones, sexual conduct, fingering, bondage, etc.)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Spencer thinks Y/N is an innocent, naive girl until a case reveals her extracurricular activities. 

Spencer had been back from jail for 2 months when he first met her. 

At first he didn’t think anything of her, other than the faint smell of vanilla and daisy as she walked past him in the bullpen and the bright smile that seemed to take up half her face. She was carrying files close to her chest like a schoolgirl late to class and the skirt of her white dress bellowed softly behind her as she made her way to Emily’s office.  

“Who is that?” He had asked. 

Luke looked up to where Spencer’s gaze was. “Oh, that’s Y/N, she's a tech analyst helping Penelope out right now. She’s sweet, you’ll like her.”  

It doesn’t take Spencer long after that to decide he, in fact, does not like you. There was nothing wrong with you. Luke was right, you were sweet, almost sickeningly so. It was like you had no concept of reality. You lived in this world of all sunshine and good things despite the horror that crossed your screen daily. And while Penelope was the same, she at the very least knew how bad the world could be and chose to see the good in it. You didn’t, it was like you’d never had a single bad thing happen to you. And Spencer, who had been dealt the bad hand so many times in life hated that. 

It also didn’t help that you were gorgeous too. You looked like an artist sculpted you himself to make the perfect woman. Real People weren’t supposed to look like that. Real people were supposed to have flaws and blisters. Real people were supposed to look tired so early in the morning not fully awake and smiling while handing everyone in the office a coffee. He didn’t understand how you could be real.   

“Here you go, Spencer. Americano lots of sugar.” You said, placing the coffee on his desk. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles. 

“We have a case, by the way.” You giggle, going off to hand Luke his coffee before walking away to the conference room. Spencer was barely able to keep his eye roll at bay. 

Luke sees that and laughs, clapping Spencer on the back. “Come on, kid. Play nice.” 

“She’s giggling about a murder case.” Spencer grumbles before following him into the conference room. 

“3 women have been murdered in Queens. Judging by the scars, they were all bound and strangled before finally being dumped in an alley.” Garcia says, as she goes through the slides, showing the crime scenes. “Police need our help finding the connection between these three women because right now, it looks like there is none.” 

“I’d say.” Tara speaks up. “We have a waitress/student, a doctor, and a paralegal. All living in different areas of the city with virtually no reason to interact.” 

Spencer looks down at his file, examining the picture when he notices something. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you clear your throat.  

“Umm, Emily?” You say from your seat right across from Spencer. Emily looks up inquisitively at you. “I think I know what connects them.” 

“What’s that, Y/N?” Emily asks, raising a brow at her.  

You clear your throat again. “Victim #2, Rebecca Belfront, has a Padlock collar necklace on in her second picture. That’s typically used to indicate she’s a submissive with a committed dominant partner. But she wasn’t wearing it when her body was found which makes me think that that relationship recently ended. That made me look at the marks on their arms. While there are some new ones from the murders, they all have faded marks around the wrist and body as well. Leads me to believe the bounding was er-... consensual. We should probably look into New York’s BDSM scene.” You close, smiling awkwardly. 

Spencer looks at you in shock. He, of course, had come to the same conclusion you did and had been about to say that but he, at least, knew why he knew that. Why did you know that? 

Emily hummed thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into. Do you mind coming to NY with us? Your insight might be needed.” 

You look kind of shocked at that but nod. “Of course, whatever I can do to help.” You say, softly. 

“Great, Wheels up in 30.” She says, getting up, effectively ending the meet. Spencer watches you speed after her, files in hand to ask some more questions. Spencer’s walking back to his desk when Luke catches up with him. 

“Y/N has a dark side. Who knew?” He says, smirking. 

“Probably not.” Spencer muses. “She could’ve just known that. I mean, I  just know stuff sometimes too.” 

“Nah, I don’t think so. Her body language gave her away. She was flushing and stuttering sure, but she was confident in what she was saying. Almost as if, she was speaking from experience.” Luke laughs. “She may be all lollipops and candy bars here, but I bet behind closed doors, she’s handcuffs and gags.”  

Spencer hums. “Maybe.” He says looking up to watch you walk back across the catwalk from Prentiss’ office. Luke was right though, your body language did give you completely away that you were talking from experience. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder just how much. 

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

When you arrive in New York, You head straight from the jet to the Police Station in Queens. You fiddle with your thumbs a bit, you are nervous. 

“You ok?” Spencer says, from his spot in front of the bulletin board he was setting up. You were supposed to be helping him but you knew Spencer was particular about some things so you let him do it. In fact, there were a lot of things you’d let Spencer do. With you, to you, you weren’t picky. The man was gorgeous enough to make you nervous. With his lean muscles, long, fluffy hair, and large hands, he looked like something that walked right out of a wet dream of yours. Which sometimes, he was just that. You weren’t stupid though, you knew Spencer didn’t think of you that way. In fact, you didn’t think Spencer thought of you in any way. He seemed to ignore you anyway he could. 

You look up from your laptop. “Oh yea, I’m fine. I’m just...nervous. I’ve never been in the field.” 

“Chances are you won’t be, Emily will probably keep you in the Station if she can help it.” Spencer provides. 

“I know, it’s just-- you know what I mean.” You say, Spencer nods before returning to the bulletin board. You stand to look at the map with him. “So, from what I was able to find there’s only 3 BDSM clubs in Queens but there’s only one in the middle of where the three women were found. Place called Cat’s Cradle.” 

Spencer hums. “How complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.” You look up at the man, recognizing the quote.  

“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.” You say back, shrugging. 

“You read Vonnegut?” He asks. 

“You said that like you’re more surprised that I can read than what I read being Vonnegut.” You say, Spencer shrugs not even denying it. God, he was such a dick sometimes. A hot dick, but a dick nonetheless. 

The two of you turn when you hear a knock at the door to see the lead detective coming in to check on you guys. “Just wanted to see how things were coming along. Also see if you guys needed anything?” Though he only directed the question at you with a sly smirk on his face. Men were so obvious sometimes. 

“Nope, we’re fine.” You smile although you didn’t want to. “We’ve narrowed down to a couple BDSM clubs so hopefully we’ll catch our guy soon.” 

“Wait, you think these girls were…” He trails off. You nod, knowing what he was thinking. “Well, it probably serves them right.” 

“Excuse me?” You say. 

“Listen, I know what kind of girls go into those kinds of clubs. If they want to be sexual deviants, they can’t be surprised when shit like this happens to them.” He gestures to the board. 

“Actually more women are into Dominant/Submissive as well as BDSM relationships than you would think, statistically 85%.” Spencer cuts him off. “These clubs are just commonplace for them to meet like minded people just like you would do in any other club and they should be put on trial after their deaths for trusting the wrong person. If you don’t mind, we’d like to get back to work, Detective.” He says, turning back towards the board. The man nods and leaves shortly after that. 

“Thank you.” You say, softly. 

“What for?” Spencer asks. 

“Come on, I work with profilers and I’m not stupid. I know you guys know about me so thank you for defending me just now.” 

“I wasn’t defending you.” Spencer says. “He was making inappropriate comments about victims and we don’t need that outdated way of thinking working on this case. Besides…” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “You’re not the only one with… unconventional extracurriculars.” He turns and walks out after that leaving you watching after him. 

What? 

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

 After delivering the profile, you find the Unsub, a man named Ivan Parke. The only thing left to do was find the best way to snuff him out. When the team is discussing the next best course of action. It’s then Luke comes up with the idea. 

“We should send Y/N undercover.” He says. “She knows the profile and knows the most about the scene.” 

Emily nods. “Is that something you’re comfortable with, Y/N.” 

You look up. “Oh, um yea. I’d have to find a different outfit but you have to send someone with me.” You say, everyone looks at you confused so you sigh and explain yourself. “If you send me into a club like this, in a foreign place with no Dom, the Unsub isn’t going to be my only worry. Someone’s going to have to play my dominant.”   

“I’ll do it.” Spencer speaks up. Your eyes widened, you were not expecting Spencer to agree to it, you assumed you’d be stuck with Luke. Now you’re going to have to spend the night with the man you’d been crushing on since you started working with the BAU as his submissive. Like that wasn’t a dream come true. 

“Great.” Emily says, dismissing everyone and handing you an expense credit card for an outfit. You take it and leave immediately, ignoring the sly look Spencer gives you. 

You ended with a short, low-cut black leather dress with tank-like sleeves that showed off your curves and left very little to the imagination. As well as a clear pair of platform heels. You pulled your hair back into a sleek ponytail and you topped the look with your own personal leather choker with a large circle knob in the center. It was one of your favorite pieces to wear though you never really got a chance to wear it unless you were going to clubs, which you didn’t do as often these days. It was an expensive piece sure, but so worth it when you got to wear it. You were doing your makeup a little darker then you usually do in the bathroom when Spencer comes in. 

“Is this how you typically look on the weekends?” He asks, standing behind you in the mirror. You look up to look him in the eyes through it. 

“If I have the time.” You shrug. 

“It’s very different. You’re very different from how I thought you were.” 

“And how did you think I was, Spencer?”

“Naive...innocent.”   

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed anything about me.” You say, turning towards the man. 

“Maybe you’re right… That’s an expensive piece.” He points out pointing to your choker. “Emily’s going to have fun explaining that at the next budgetary hearing.” 

“I didn’t buy it today.” You explain. “It’s mine.” 

Spencer hums for a moment before lifting his hand to turn your jaw, examining the piece. You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the contact. Spencer was already so close to you and now he was touching you, it was already starting to be too much. Soon, Spencer is hooking two fingers into the circle knob of your choker and he yanks it. Involuntarily, a whimper falls from your lips, prompting a smirk from the man across from you. 

“Tonight’s going to be fun.” He says before leaving you in the bathroom in a state of shock. 

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

 After getting your comms set up by Luke, who tried to avert his eyes from your frame as much as possible, you and Spencer walk into the Cat’s Cradle. Typically you didn’t like the club scene, but you sometimes liked to venture out when looking for a new partner. Cat’s Cradle was definitely different than the other places you had been. Sure it still had the private rooms and the main stage where a scene was happening in front of you but it was a lot more laid back than the ones you went to in DC. Spencer was really enjoying his role too. Probably hamming it up too much because he knew there was a part of you that actually wanted him to. In the end, finding Ivan Parke was easy. He took the bait almost instantly and you were arresting him just as fast. 

“Great work tonight guys.” Emily says, when you reach the hotel lobby. “Jet’s leaving at 7AM so make sure to get some rest.” She says, dismissing you. 

Now begged a tricky situation because you had almost forgotten you and Spencer were rooming together. As you walked back to the room together the air was thick but both of you were silent. The tension had been building between the two of you since he yanked your choker in the station bathroom. You knew it was a matter of time. The dam had to break. 

“You can shower first.” Spencer says. You nod, taking off your choker and grabbing clothes before taking solace in the bathroom. You wanted Spencer and you knew you needed to expedite this. After a much needed shower, you change into your pajama shorts and tank combo. Spencer steps into the shower almost as soon as you leave it. It’s then that you think of the perfect plan. You lay on the bed and spread your legs before slipping a hand down your shorts. You tease yourself at first, rubbing your clit through your underwear while you thought about the events of the night. How Spencer had been so authoritative. How his hand slid to the small of your back and sometimes ghosted your ass as the two of you walked around the club. How he had been so close in the bathroom. The way he yanked you closer. A small moan escaped you as you slid your hand in your underwear. Soon you hear the bathroom door open. Spencer stops short, watching you before leaning on the frame. 

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“Yes.” You answer. “Are you gonna to do something about it?” 

“Should I? Instead of telling me what you want you decide to act like a brat and do this.” 

Spencer moves closer to the bed but doesn’t do anything, just continues to watch you so you decide to give him a show. Moaning loudly as you slide a digit inside of you. Spencer looks at you with hooded eyes. You can’t help the small laugh that leaves you. 

“I think you’re going to give me what I want.” You say, smirking. 

“And why’s that?” He says. 

“You’re already weak.” You say. 

“I’m weak, pretty girl?” He asks, incredulously. Before you know it, he’s ripping your hand out of your pants and crowding in the space between your legs forcing you to sit up and look at him. “You’re in here touching yourself to the thought of me like a horny teenager and I’m the one who’s weak? Ok.”  He sits back and pulls you by your hips to sit on top of his lap, your legs straddling one of his thighs. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh, ok?” He tells you, starting to move your hips. You moan, nodding your head as the friction makes its way through your core. Spencer lifts your shirt off you and smirks when his eyes land on your bare breast. He leans forward to catch your left nipple in his mouth. Your back arches as you grind harder against his thigh. Your hands fly up to start unbuttoning his shirt when he stops you. 

“Did I say you could touch yet, princess?”  He asks. 

“N-No, sir.” You stutter. 

“Then keep your hands to yourself.” He says, putting your hands back to your side. He does indulge you by taking his shirt off himself. But that doesn’t help you keep your hands to yourself. You saw the lean muscle and craved to mark it up with your nails. Your hands go up to touch him again but he stops you. 

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to tie you up, Princess. Just be good, baby.” 

You were already close before but now with Spencer’s hands and mouth everywhere and constant friction on your sex it was damn near pushing you off the edge. 

“I’m gonna come.” You tell him, he grips your hips tighter, lifting his leg slightly so he was only rubbing against your clit. That makes you moan out loudly. 

“Go ahead, Princess. Cum for me.” He says, and that was all you needed to fall right over the edge. Your legs shake and convulse as Spencer grips your hips help you ride it out.  Soon you come down panting and he’s kissing into your neck. He pulls back and grips your jaw. 

“Still think I’m weak, Princess?”  He asks. 

You knew it was unwise. In fact, you tried to stop yourself before you did it but it was too late. You reared your hand back and slapped Spencer across the cheek. Not hard enough to be seen as anything malicious but sharp enough to throw him off, like he couldn’t believe you had done it.  

“Yes I do.” You say looking him in the eyes after. Something like a switch went off because there was no other way to describe the look he gave you other than feral and fully primitive. He pushes you off him. 

“Get on your hands and knees, now.” He says, menacingly. You scramble and run to get into the position. Once in, Spencer forces your knees further apart. He angrily takes his belt off his pants before fashioning them into a makeshift cuff and pulling your wrist so they’re tied behind your back, leaving you face down into the mattress. He slides your shorts and underwear off in one go. You yelp loudly when the first slap comes to your behind. When the second and third slap comes, you try to squeeze your legs together to get some form of friction but Spencer forces your knees further apart. You moan out when you feel a digit slide against your folds. You try to push back on it but Spencer holds your hips in place. 

“P-Please.” you stutter. 

“What do you want, Princess?” He says, sliding a second digit inside you making you cry out more. 

“Please, fuck me, Spencer.” You say, and you really didn’t have to ask twice because almost as soon as you ask Spencer’s hands leave you to finish unbuckling his pants. There’s a brief moment of calm, so calm that you almost think Spencer wasn’t going to give you what you want but that calm is interrupted by Spencer slamming into, no warning. You scream out but that’s only rewarded with your head being shoved more into the mattress to muffle your cries. Spencer’s hands are pulling on your cuffs so he is almost impossibly deep inside you. You moans start to get louder and louder. Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you up so you’re both sitting up, your back against his chest. One of his hands slides to grip around your neck while the other is moving to circle your clit. The hand around your neck tilts your jaw back so you’re looking up at the man behind you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Open your mouth, Princess.” He orders, which you do instantly sticking your tongue out. Spencer leans forward and spits into your waiting mouth before locking his mouth with yours. His hand squeezes your neck tighter as you moan into his mouth as he starts fucking you faster, his dick hitting your g-spot almost every thrust. It’s not long before you’re just babbling, not even able to string a coherent sentence together. 

“You gonna come for me, Princess?” He asks. You nod, moaning loudly. At this point, you knew there was no way the person in the room next to you guys didn’t hear you. You could only hope that it wasn’t one of the team. “Go ahead for me, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” After that, it doesn’t take long before you’re falling over the edge, shaking all the while. Spencer fucks you through it before tightening his grip on your hips to bend you back forwards so your face is back on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast before falling over the edge himself, moaning your name. 

The two of you say nothing as he unties you. When he does, you instantly flop down on your back, breathing heavily. Spencer wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom. For a moment you think he’s just leaving you like this, that you were foolish to think Spencer cared anything about you but in that moment he comes back with a wet cloth and ointment. He says nothing as he wipes between your legs before tossing the towel aside. You watch him with a smirk on your face as he rubs the ointment on the red marks the red cuffs made on you. 

He looks you in the eye. “What, Y/N?” 

“What happened to Princess?” You say, Spencer just looks at you with a bored expression which only makes you smile more. “Now’s probably a good time for you to ask me to dinner.” 

Spencer chuckles lightly at that. “You don’t want to go to dinner with me.” 

“I’m almost positive I do. Why would you say that?” You ask. 

Spencer looks you in the eyes at that moment. “I’m not-Y/N, I’m not like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“I’m not able to be cheery and smiley. I can’t float into rooms. I can’t be happy like you are, too much has happened to me. You deserve someone happy.” 

“Spencer.” You say, looking him in the eyes. “You are not broken. You can be happy, it’s going to take time sure but I’m willing to be with you through that. If you want that.” You say. 

Spencer nods. “Ok, Y/N.” he smiles. 

“So….?” 

He rolls his eyes at that. “What’re you doing next sunday?” 

You smile, brightly. “Absolutely nothing.”    

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[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #40 — Ratchet Runs Off After a Man

This is the issue where Ratchet gets Kaiju-ed and everyone has to adjust to their new normal of living with a giant doctor. Very touching story, love the part where he reenacts the King Kong Empire State scene with Cyclonus.

Also, I very much hope you all know that this is clearly a lie I’m telling, because lying is funny.

We get a quick montage of Ratchet’s life, as he had what was the last moment together with a few people who were very important to him, or at least as he knew them. Roller had come to his clinic before he and Orion Pax and the college kids left Rodion, to ask him to join them. Ratchet couldn’t, due to all the patients in the Dead End who depended on him. He looks as if he wants to say something, but instead just thanks Roller for dropping by. This would be the last time he saw Roller, as Roller disappeared during the events of that hot spot incident we saw during the ‘Elegant Chaos’ arc.

Later, he informed Pharma that he was leaving for Earth later that day, which I’ll go ahead and say, was a bit of a dick move to not say something sooner. Ratchet leaves in the middle of the conversation, not catching Pharma asking if he should take the assignment to Delphi that Prowl offered him. We, of course, know how that turned out for Pharma.

Later still, Ratchet drops off Hunter O’Nion off at his home, then quickly leaves, saying that he doesn’t want to keep him from settling in. Hunter is disappointed by the suddenness of his departure, but at least nothing bad will ever happen to this young man again.

Yep. Nothing bad happened to Hunter O’Nion.

He’s perfectly fine, and also alive.

Anyway, each of these scenes are labeled as being unsuccessful, though in what exactly we don’t know yet. In the present, we see the Lost Light parked on the planet of Scarvix, still recharging its quantum engines from that whole thing with Brainstorm’s time adventure. Inside, Tailgate is being a menace, having apparently stolen the Back to the Future hoverboard and riding it down the halls while also wielding a fishing pole. Swerve is busy inside Swerve’s, making a drinking glass tower while he abuses his employee. Ratchet watches this injustice happen and doesn’t say a goddamned thing.

Tailgate whips into the bar and hits the less obvious of the two targets in the room.

Ratchet was the only patron of the bar today, and it’s not just because of there being shore leave, or it being No-Fun-Allowed week. See, Swerve never planned for there to be any real competition to his bar, and now Mirage, who is likely much cooler and well-liked than Swerve, has opened his own establishment, and everybody loves it, especially after the whole “Brainstorm poisoned everyone” thing.

Swerve is extra touchy as a result, and threatens to ban Tailgate from the bar forever for the grave sin of thinking that Mirage’s “Visages” might be a good time. Tailgate ignores this, asking for a six-pack of space beer for his fishing date with Getaway. Tailgate then explains the game they’re going to be playing, which involves some inconsiderate handling of Legislator corpses, right in front of Ten.

Ten is banished to work the front door, for the grave sin of having sat down for a second. Walking to his post reveals that someone has graffitied his back.

Love how Tailgate still refuses to use Whirl’s name. And I don’t think pointing out how Dominus Ambus could have done more for Cybertronian society to make up for being such a nasty little creep to his own subordinates is a bad thing, Swerve.

Apparently Swerve isn’t the only bitch on this ship in a foul mood, as Ultra Magnus has apparently been interrogating folks about a missing datapad and demanding that Swerve treat Ten with basic decency. I would personally like for Union Magnus to put Swerve in the brig for his shitty boss crimes, but we don’t have time for that right now, because Ratchet just realized he’s late for something.

It’s the goddamned court case for Brainstorm’s time crimes.

Yes, for once we’re actually using due process, as the “Lost Light Internal Legal Affairs Committee”— L.L.I.L.A.C., like the room’s paint job— consists of Xaaron, who I’m sure is thrilled to finally be able to do something, Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, and Megatron, who has apparently decided he’s not going to attend. What he could possibly be doing instead is beyond me, it’s not like he’s got any sort of social life on this fucking ship. There’s also a public gallery, made up of folks who were involved in some way in the events of the time travel nonsense. Chromedome is acting as Brainstorm’s defense, I guess because no one else wanted to.

Brainstorm immediately makes things difficult for himself, asking why Rewind wasn’t also put in prison to await trial, seeing as he’s the one who actually shot Babytron. Ultra Magnus reminds him that Rewind had a whole thing with the DJD the day before all the time travel, and that the little man was traumatized to the point where they could excuse him shooting an infant, especially since Whirl fixed that oopsie pretty quick.

Rodimus cuts in here, bringing up Brainstorm’s face plate— that’s right, the man’s basically naked for his trial— and after a little futzing around, manages to get it to show off the hidden Decepticon badge on the inside. Brainstorm is pretty cavalier about it, which seems to piss Nautica the hell off, as she storms out, leaving the wrench she squeezed out of shape behind. I’m not sure why exactly she’s so upset about this, seeing as she wasn’t even around for the war. Brainstorm then goes on to explain why exactly he’s a Decepticon.

Of course, L.L.I.L.A.C. has their doubts, considering what happened on the quantum duplicate Lost Light was caused by that Brainstorm deciding he wanted them to come get Overlord. The current Brainstorm, however, has a theory on why exactly that happened, making a bad joke as he explains that he’s actually a horrendous double agent, and needed to show the DJD that he was on the up and up, by giving them one of their most elusive List members.

Ultar Mgsuna— Rodimus has been fidgeting with the name plates this whole time— asks for any final statements. Brainstorm, deciding that shutting up isn’t on his schedule for today, decides to let everyone know that he very much doesn’t appreciate being bullied into taking the blame for something that he didn’t even personally do, quantum duplication bullshit be damned. Plus, it’s not like the DJD were exactly faultless, considering they were the ones who did the actual murder.

Perceptor, this isn’t how courtrooms work, sit down.

Magnus, after taking a moment to marvel at how out of order this court is, informs Brainstorm that a committee decision has been reached; Brainstorm can’t be held responsible for the deaths on the alternate Lost Light, for reasons Brainstorm already stated, and the fact that he’s a Decepticon can’t really be charged, as merely being a part of the faction isn’t actually a crime, and it would also mean that Ravage would have to be put in jail, and also that Megatron’s deal would have to be opened back up, which nobody really wants to deal with. However, attempted murder is still a crime, and as punishment, Brainstorm’s time machine will be destroyed, and he’ll be chaperoned in his lab at all times, as well as be forced to cease all communication with his Decepticon handler.

Brainstorm is very surprised that his actions haven’t earned him a booting off the ship, but states that the Lost Light is his home, and he’s glad to be able to stay. This moment gives Ratchet pause, as he’s taken back to the last time something like this happened, and the results of that decision.

After the trial, Magnus goes a-banging on Megatron’s door, to question him about the datapad from earlier, and also the whole “not being at the trial” thing, but that feels like more of an afterthought. Megatron says that he’s been busy, but we don’t get any resolution on what exactly he’s been up to, because it’s time to go get shitfaced.

In “Visages”, we see Getaway and Tailgate having a drink, as Tailgate regales him with his time travel escapades. Getaway decides that now would be a good time to practice his negging, as he not-so-subtly implies that Cyclonus has been talking shit behind Tailgate’s back, even telling folks about Tailgate being a crybaby bitch while he was dying of cybercrosis. Tailgate is very hurt by this, having thought he could trust Cyclonus with that sort of vulnerability. So hurt, in fact, he forgets that Cyclonus just straight up doesn’t talk to people without provocation, unless it’s Tailgate himself. Why exactly Getaway is acting like such a shitbird will be better understood later, but for now, it looks like he’s doing this to have Tailgate all to himself.

Tailgate complains of a headache as Getaway pours him another drink and swears him to secrecy on what he’s told Tailgate about Cyclonus. Ratchet walks by, not having caught this conversation, asking to borrow Tailgate’s hoverboard.

Smash cut to said hoverboard having been put in a quarantine tube, as Ratchet goes down the list of all the folks he needs to check for the super-scraplets that have apparently infested it. Though it seems like there’s a hidden motive to these checkups, as he’s only invited his friends to them. He chews Rodimus out for being inconsistent with his punishments, saying he was too hard on Drift. He reminds Nautica that Brainstorm is an M.T.O., and would have been destroyed if his plan had worked, making it a selfless act to try to make the galaxy better. He tells Rung to do his fucking job and check on Hoist, after his fucking roommate got super-murdered by an office chair, and also tells him to talk to someone himself. He tells Skids to go check on Rung. He tells Swerve to invite Megatron out, in an attempt to get some business back at his bar. He checks in on Magnus, who reveals that he doesn’t feel respected, showing off the tiny figure of Minimus Ambus he found outside his office. He’s taken it as an insulting comment on his true self.

Later, First Aid calls Ratchet out on being a weirdo who can’t talk to people without having to build up an entire false scenario first. Ratchet doesn’t really acknowledge it, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have had time to do it before Tailgate comes flying in.

Tailgate apparently got himself a new board, courtesy of Ten, who even went so far as to put a sick decal on it, of Tailgate opening a Matrix. Ratchet recognizes the art style, and decides he’s got someone else to talk to before the day is done.

Ratchet finds himself down in the boiler rooms, knocking on a vent door labeled 10. Inside is— you guessed it— Ten, who invites him to come down the vent and enter his home, which he’s decorated all by himself.

Notice how Swerve is nowhere to be fucking found on this mural.

Ten also builds models from scratch— he’d have to, I doubt Flame Toys ships to outer space— and he’s made several members of the crew by this point.

Shane McCarthy slipped Roberts a twenty to set up this slowburn between his OC and Ratchet all the way back in MTMTE #4, I’m fucking telling you.

Ratchet stops thinking about his crush long enough to realize he completely missed the Magnus-centric display off to the side. It’s got Ultra Magnus, his office, his alt mode, Minimus Ambus and his alt, and the irreducible Minimus, though no alt counterpart is present for that one. That would be spoilers~ Ten’s model of himself is over there as well. When asked if Ten likes Ultra Magnus, he acts like a giddy schoolgirl.

Ratchet also notices the missing datapad that had Magnus so angry. Turns out Ten was trying to do a little trade, having left the figure of Minimus in exchange for the datapad. Ratchet violates Magnus’s privacy by reading the contents of the datapad, finding some personal writing. Ratchet, not wanting Magnus’s frustration over having his personal effects messed with to hurt Ten, writes a little note on the datapad before he has Ten hand it back over to the rightful owner.

Later on, it would seem that Minimus is feeling more at ease, having left his Magnus armor at home as he enters Swerve’s, with Ten by his side. In the background, Skids marvels at a model of the Lost Light Rung’s put together. When they go to sit at the bar, Swerve tries to make a scene, furious that Ten would try to act like a person. When Minimus threatens to move their hangout to “Visages”, Swerve reveals that he invited Megatron to “Visages” earlier, and the poetry reading he did there emptied it out real quick. Minimus says something that implies that his datapad contains his attempts at poetry, and in turn, self-understanding.

We get a full reading of Ratchet’s message to Magnus, as scenes of reconciliation, relationships built on lies, stagnation, destruction of a life’s work, and theft for unknown purposes play out.

Well that’s not ominous at all.

When First Aid enters Ratchet’s room, he finds only a phone, to be used if the new CMO should need him. Ratchet, having finally decided that he needs to be the one to finally right the wrongs of the past, has left the Lost Light, setting out with his custom model of Drift, to find the real deal and bring him home.

Shane McCarthy just keeps fucking winning.

[hikari-kaitou]

Capcom’s Official AA Fanclub Surveys - Main Series Edition

Naturally, Capcom’s official AA fanclub site didn't only post surveys about the DGS characters; they published far more of them about the main series characters. It makes sense, as they started the trend before the DGS series had even been conceived.

Back in the old days, they used to hold a survey on Capcom’s official AA fansite every few months where they’d write about the seasonal activities of a handful of characters and ask fans to vote for the funniest/most pleasant/strangest/etc answer.

They stopped doing them in like… 2016? 2017? The original text is lost for good as far as I can tell. Even the wayback machine couldn’t help because the content was password locked and you can’t get past the password wall while remaining in the archived version.

Fortunately, I saved some of my translations of them so I thought I’d share them. Unfortunately, I was doing these translations very casually and only intended to share them with two of my close friends at the time when I did them, so some of them are just summaries rather than proper translations, and I tended to only focus on characters that we personally were interested in or scenarios that we thought were funny or interesting. That means there are parts missing, and because I didn't expect the original text to be wiped off the site I didn't save it so I could go back and fill in the blanks. Sorry about that...

Cut for length!

"Spring is on its way and each of the AA cast members spent their day off in different ways. Who's way of spending their day off sounds the most pleasant?"

Phoenix- he finished unpacking his moving boxes and sorting his seasonal clothing. While he was packing away his ugly pink sweater and such, he happened across the complete works of Shakespeare at the bottom of one of the boxes, got completely absorbed in reading, and ended up abandoning his unpacking.

Mia- She went shopping at a department store for a new summer suit. On her way, she coincidentally ran into Maya, who was on her way to the agency to hang out, but then at some point Maya vanished. Mia tried calling her cell phone but she didn't answer. "Don't tell me she's lost at her age," Mia thought, and began to search for her. She found Maya transfixed by a rooftop Steel Samurai show. It seems that she was both exasperated and relieved.

Maya- she tagged along on Mia's shopping trip, but the second she spied a poster for a rooftop Steel Samurai show, she made a beeline for the roof. She got into a cheering battle with a mean-looking elementary school boy and really enjoyed the show. When the show was over, she reunited with an exasperated looking Mia. She gleefully led Mia to a burger restaurant so they could eat some burgers together.

Edgeworth- he treated himself to a drive along the coast in his red sports car... Well, that was the plan, but then he was pushed by his mentor Von Karma into being the driver for his shopping trip. As a reward for his service, he received a brand new Von Karma style, stylish and flashy summer suit.

Then there's Larry, who dragged Phoenix to a café to hit on its hot owner, and the judge who bought a wig.

"Apollo, Fulbright, Edgeworth, Klavier and Kristoph made visits to a nursery school near the courthouse. Which of them did the most pleasant activity with the children?"

Apollo acted out the story of the “Crying Red Ogre” for the children. Phoenix played the part of the blue ogre, and Apollo was the red ogre, and Apollo’s wailing moved the children to tears too. In a panic over all the crying, they got Trucy to cheer them up with a magic trick in which she made Apollo disappear.

Fulbright: He came dressed in a blinding white costume to teach the children about justice and put on a play. The children gave him thunderous applause... But when Jinxie, who had been forced to play the part of the heroine, saw Fulbright, she thought he was the ghost of an army general, got scared, and slapped a charm on his face.

Edgeworth and Gumshoe: He and Gumshoe were going to reenact the story of Kintarou (an old Japanese fairytale). Franziska handed Edgeworth the Kintarou costume she’d designed (If you've seen Ghibli's Spirited Away, recall what Bou, the giant baby, wears. That's what we're talking about here). Edgeworth fearfully asked “You... expect me to wear this...?” Gumshoe, who had painted his whole body black to play the role of a bear, told him “Of course, sir! It doesn’t fit me!” and shoved Edgeworth out on stage in it. Edgeworth quickly began to reconsider Gumshoe’s salary for next month.

Klavier and Kristoph: Kristoph started giving a boring lecture on the importance of law, and the kids were getting antsy. Seeing this, Klavier came over with his guitar to liven things up, performing a rock style arrangement of the “The Bear Went Over The Mountain". But then he threw in the unnecessary comment of “If any of you scratch the frets of my guitar, I’ll be suing for damage of property, ok?” And they both ended up getting kicked out.

"This survey is about who knows how to enjoy a sunny day at Gourd Lake the best"

Simon: To give Taka some exercise, Blackquill took him and Fulbright (who was on guard duty) out for some falconry. Things were going well until Taka heard something about this mysterious creature “Gourdy,” freaked out, flew into the little shop selling Gourdy merchandise and started making a huge mess. Blackquill and Fulbright gathered Taka up in a panic and hightailed it out of there as fast as they could.

Edgeworth had seen Phoenix home and on his way back passed by Gourd Lake. Just as he was starting to get bad flashbacks... he happened to hear Larry in the middle of a flirting attempt and got dragged in. The woman he was trying to put the moves on was a foreigner, and she and Edgeworth started chatting in her native language. Larry couldn’t understand and was annoyed that Edgeworth was apparently moving in on his target, so he sulked and blew up at Edgeworth.

Athena tried to play matchmaker for Apollo and Juniper, so she told them to meet her in the forest near Gourd Lake so that they would run into each other there and hopefully hit it off. Juniper got there first, expecting to find Athena, but when Apollo showed up, she panicked and hid behind a tree. While she was trying to gather her nerve to go talk to him, he wandered off and she lost sight of him.

Phoenix was at the park and he got caught by Larry who was doing his part time job of selling Samurai Dogs. Larry saw a pretty lady that he wanted to flirt with so he asked Phoenix to mind the shop while he was gone. Business was slow, so he called in all the WAA members to put their full range of skills to use. They seem to have managed to sell them all!

Gumshoe took Missile for a walk in the park. They stopped for a rest and Gumshoe fell asleep, so Missile slipped out of his collar and ran over to where the Samurai Dogs were being sold. He ate them all without Phoenix noticing. Phoenix handed things back over to Larry when he got back and Larry got in huge trouble for losing so much product.

"This survey is talking about how the cast spent their Valentines Day"

Trucy gave Polly chocolate for himself and some for Klavier and asked Apollo to give it to him for her. Klavier wasn’t in court when Apollo went to look for him, though, so he and Phoenix went to the prosecutors’ office together with their chocolate. On their way, though, Apollo found himself getting a lot of strange looks from Themis Legal Academy students.

Ema gave some chocolates to Phoenix to give to Edgeworth because she suddenly got called to a crime scene. Phoenix headed over to the prosecutors’ office but Edgeworth was in court and wasn’t there, so Phoenix waited out in front of the prosecutors’ office with this flashy, girly looking bag of chocolates. Edgeworth’s trial ended up going a long time and Phoenix got a lot of stares as he waited.

Edgeworth was hit by a pollen-filled spring breeze on his way back to the office and suddenly his eyes got all red and itchy and he was left sneezing and sniffling. Phoenix came to talk to him and got quite a surprise when he saw the state Edgeworth’s face was in. The chocolates Ema gave him were in the shape of the Steel Samurai and they made Edgeworth so pleased that it seemed to ease his suffering a little.

Flower Viewing:

Phoenix and Apollo go to the park early to hold flower viewing spots for the WAA members. They see some people from around town that they know who ask them to hold their spots while they go and grab this or that. Phoenix and Apollo do their best to hold those people’s spots and in the process lose their own. They end up begging Edgeworth to let them share his and Klavier’s spot.

White Day:

Because of his painful memories about Valentine’s Day from elementary school, he doesn’t like Valentine’s Day or White Day that much. As a return gift to his beloved daughter, he gave her painstakingly handmade magic panty shaped chocolates. Apparently he forced the ones that didn’t turn out on Edgeworth...

Klavier was holding a ladies only concert, which he invited Trucy to. Phoenix was worried about letting Trucy be out at night by herself, so he sent Apollo along in disguise (as a woman!!). But Klavier saw through Apollo’s disguise easily and to Apollo’s horror, called him up on stage.

Autumn/Moon Viewing:

Phoenix, Edgeworth and Larry went to collect chestnuts together. Larry was too focused on looking for chestnuts and not watching where he was going and fell down the mountain slope. Phoenix had tried to catch Larry but he ended up falling too and spraining his ankle slightly. Edgeworth had to carry Phoenix on his back down the mountain.

Apollo went moon viewing with the rest of the WAA. It turned out into kind of an office party and Apollo had drink after drink while assuring everyone that “I’m fine!” but ended up getting pretty hammered. He proceeded to pass out and Phoenix took care of him.

Obon Festival:

Klavier performed a bonfire festival dance version of the Guitar’s Serenade at the summer festival and Apollo provided the taiko drum backup. He filled the gaps in the taiko drumming with his chords of steel, and it was a very energetic bonfire dance.

Edgeworth noticed the festival going on on his way home from work and decided to have a look. He saw Phoenix selling Samurai Dogs and desperately wanted one, but couldn’t bear the thought of Phoenix finding out that he was a Steel Samurai fan. He hemmed and hawed in front of the festival stall, trying to decide whether to buy one, but they sold out before he could make up his mind.

Phoenix went to the festival with Maya. Larry, who was working the Samurai Dog stand, called them over and forced them to watch the stand while he made a booty call. Phoenix and Maya’s manzai comedy duo style vocal advertising was so successful that they quickly sold out.

Christmas:

Phoenix, Trucy, Athena, Apollo and Pearl all spent the night at the office after their party wrapped up. Phoenix put presents next to the kids' pillows during the night.

Edgeworth grumbled about having to play Santa but dressed up anyway and snuck in at night to bring the younger ones at Phoenix's office some presents. He accidentally ends up sneaking into Phoenix’s room instead.

Apollo wanted to be a good big brother to Trucy and Pearl, so he snuck into their rooms to leave gifts but tripped over something, let out a Chords of Steel volume shout as he fell and ruined the surprise/

Klavier, as a favor to Trucy, snuck in dressed as a Visual Kei style Santa, but he announced his arrival with a rock arrangement of Santa Claus is Coming to Town and got caught and kicked out.

Blackquill had to make a jailbreak in order to play Santa, was chased down and Phoenix woke to find the police surrounding his office.

DGS Edition

[annabellelux]

Favorite Books of 2021📚

So, as anyone who has me on Goodreads has probably gathered, I read a lot. In 2021, I read 186 new books (far surpassing my goal of 120), so I thought I’d share my top 10 personal favorites and my thoughts on them! 

In no particular order, and under the cut because this rec list is long: 

Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson

synopsis: the Spare™ princess gets married off to a God King to save her kingdom (and her sister who was supposed to go in her place). genius plots ensue 

none of the rest of these are ordered but THIS is my number one 

honestly every single book my brandon sanderson i read this year deserves my number one spot. i’m only putting one of his books on this list purely because if not he’d be half the list 

highest fantasy imaginable in the sense that the world is vivid and relatable but not in the sense where you’re bogged down with details. brandon sanderson just knows how to build a spectacular world 

the jumping on the bed scene killed me. if you know you know

the kind of book that makes my writer self so envious that it’s a physical thing 

if you aren’t currently reading this book i don’t know what you’re doing with your life

read when you want to actually be blown away by how perfect a plot is 

Charm Offensive by Allison Cochrun

synopsis: dating show producer and dating show star accidentally fall in love while making me accidentally fall in love with both of them 

i would actually and honestly die for Charlie, my awkward king

Dev needs to be my best friend yesterday 

great mental health rep

this made me feel all the things 

i squealed on more than one occasion 

cute and charming and kept a smile on my face the whole time 

the ending is honestly all i could’ve wanted and more 

read when you want to feel like you’re watching a reality dating show “ironically” with your best friends and then find yourself overly invested in the storylines and somehow, suddenly, you’re out here actually believing in love 

The Big Bad Wolf Series by Charlie Adhara

synopsis: secret agent and werewolf reluctantly team up to investigate werewolf related crimes while not trusting each other even a little bit

but also being like. damn, he’s hot  

five book series (and hopefully more!? charlie i’m begging) 

hot but somehow also adorable 

Cooper is clueless and prickly and oh so gay 

puts new meaning to the phrase “too gay to function” 

man will be in a life or death scenario and be like “but does he like me back????” 

Park is the baddest werewolf on the block AND a cinnamon roll 

every other character: he’s so scary and tough 

Cooper: that man needs a hug, stat

the mysteries are somehow ALL GOOD !? i can usually guess a plot twist but this had me screaming WHAT so many times but upon rereads i was like OHHHHHH

a masterclass in character and relationship development 

they learn how to communicate in such a realistic way. they both have their own hang-ups but they slowly learn how to open up about them and it’s genuinely so realistic and heart-warming 

ALSO made me care about a relationship that is ESTABLISHED for most of the series??? i cannot stress how rare this is for me 

i read all five books in like 3 days, staying up until 4 am on multiple occasions to do so. take from that what you will 

read when you want to explore the mysteries of love and murder 

Reputation by Lex Croucher

synopsis: regency girl moves in with her aunt and uncle a bunch of cool friends who spend their time being hot, wild, and hilarious 

the Mean Girls comparison is accurate in the most delicious ways 

genuinely laugh-out-loud hilarious

Lex is a genius with the one-liners  

but also insightful and poignant and gut-wrenching at times

there is NUANCE here 

all the heavy themes were handled with expert care

Thomas deserves the entire world 

amazing and varied queer rep

this book honestly made me feel like i could thrive in the regency era despite literally all the evidence to the contrary. it made me want to be mean and hot in a ballgown

read when you want to feel like the human equivalent of a glass of champagne and an expert hair flip 

Not My Problem by Ciara Smyth

synopsis: prickly girl helps her nemesis out in a highly unconventional way and then ends up being the school’s resident Weird Favors Girl 

a bunch of misfit teens doing stupid and hilarious stuff

every character was real 

Aideen is the perfect kind of flawed character. she’s an extremely authentic and she made me like her and root for her even when i didn’t love what she was doing or saying

the romance was WELL DEVELOPED and made my sapphic heart explode 

also the friendships were such a high point. i loved watching them navigate the complexity of it all 

exactly what i’m looking for in a sapphic romance. i will read every ciara smyth book forever probably 

read when you want to feel like you’re a teenager on a friday night having shenanigans with friends who feel like they’ll last a lifetime

She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen 

synopsis: sapphic jock and cheerleader rivals-to-lovers AND fake dating 

make this into a movie yesterday. this has cinematic gold potential 

rom-com to end all rom-coms 

relationship development I can get behind 

teenagers who make mistakes but ALSO actually have enough braincells to find appropriately mature solutions 

recovering from a bad breakup in a healthy, non-toxic way 

when they finally got together it was like, perfect. it was so so so easy to root for both of the main characters

read when you want to feel like you’ve just looked out your window to see your crush with a boombox 

Camp by L.C. Rosen 

synopsis: boy changes literally everything about himself to get another boy to like him. but it’s at gay summer camp 

i know i just said the main character does something pretty yikes to get a relationship going but hear me out 

it is such a lovely exploration of toxic masculinity with such care and nuance 

it’s really about learning how to love yourself

character growth all around 

healthy sex positivity 

also. did you hear me say GAY SUMMER CAMP. i cannot tell you how much this made me crave a gay summer camp 

all the queer rep you could ever ask for 

read when you want to feel wrapped in a blanket of queer culture  

All For The Game Series by Nora Sakavic 

synopsis: boy with literally everything to lose risks life and limb to play stick ball 

i wish i was joking about how much Neil is willing to lose to live out his little jock dreams but i am unfortunately not 

Neil, at all times: a little murder is not enough to stop my good time. fuck you 

i am not going to lie to you. i hate-read all of book 1. i spent a majority of the time in absolute shock at what the fuck was happening. but i could not deny that i was thoroughly and honestly enjoying myself so i continued

by book 2 the author is ready to bring out the BIG GUNS and i honestly was hooked in a way that i did not see coming 

by book 3 i knew that i had found a new obsession 

to say there is a lot of trauma in this book would be a gross understatement. this series should not be read if you are not in a place to mitigate your triggers. please google a TW list beforehand if you are worried about this 

BUT I did really enjoy a lot of what the author had to say about living with trauma. i loved how all the characters had such weighty backstories how that was what brought them together and helped them work as a found family

can we talk about andrew and his knives????? because that is honestly my favorite thing about him 

you WILL spend several days/weeks/months/years in an ao3 rabbit hole afterwards. the fandom is alive and well and thriving out here 

read when you want to watch the world burn and laugh in the face of chaos 

You Deserve Each Other by Sarah Hogle

synopsis: a couple has grown to hate each others’ guts, and are trying to passive-aggressive their way out of their engagement without having to be the one to lose the wedding deposit 

essentially one big game of chicken with the person who is supposed to be the love of your life 

i could not stop laughing at how ridiculous this couple was. at the beginning i genuinely was like “how the hell did these two EVER fall in love????”

BUT 

the turnaround was so deliciously worth it because they had to work for it 

they both needed so much character development that they should have been wearing “DANGER: PERSON UNDER CONSTRUCTION” signs 

but that was what made the character and relationship development GLORIOUS  

i went from not rooting for these two monsters in the slightest to literally wanting the world for them. and THAT is literary talent 

Naomi is so dramatic in the funniest possible way and has some of the best one-liners of all time 

Nathaniel grows on you as he grows on Naomi and she slowly understands him better and then you realize, hey, this man is actually lovely 

get you a man who will learn from his mistakes 

i literally know no one who has read this book and i want someone to so i can scream about how wild it is 

seriously guys i’ve read it three times in three months. it’s my new comfort book 

read when you want to see the power of communication and self-improvement 

The House in The Cerulean Sea

synopsis: bureaucrat goes to Magic Orphan Island and learns the meaning of life 

i know everyone and their mother already read this but i was a hold out for like a year because I was being weirdly contrary. i wasn’t really in the mood for this book for like, over a year 

and then I read it and I Got It. the hype suddenly made sense 

and now I would die for the World’s Best Dad, a constantly flustered rule-follower, a little girl with a beard, a blob that just wants to be a hotel concierge, a shy boy with a big heart and at times a wet nose, a small but mighty sprite child, a dragon who just wants coins, and the LITERAL anti-christ 

i can’t really explain this book. you kinda just have to read it and let yourself feel things 

read when you want to simultaneously be crying and smiling 

The Spanish Love Deception by  Elena Armas

synopsis: i hate my coworker but he's going to be my date/fake boyfriend at a a wedding across the globe anyways because my ex is going to be there and he deserves to rue the day he crossed me 

Catalina is not actually vindictive. I am vindictive. I wanted her ex to rue the day

WORK RIVALS. TO. LOVERS. NEED I SAY MORE 

Catalina says jump and Aaron says “when, how high, do you want me to get you a doughnut while I’m at it?” 

basically he’s a simp. and men must always be simps for me to love them 

i had a crush on this man. i’m brave enough to admit it 

this won a goodreads award as it should 

i was having fun literally every minute of this book. i could not get enough. 

the banter was top-notch 

read when you want your stomach to hurt from butterflies and from laughing 

HONORABLE MENTION: I Kissed Shara Wheeler by Casey McQuiston. 

I only didn’t include this because it’s not out yet (i got it as an ARC) so I didn’t want to go on and on about something most people can’t read for over six months 

But put that on your TBR immediately and circle back so we can scream about it together 

If you got this far, I love you 

[ludgatemanifest]

note: hey there this is my first gallavich fanfic lol. its also daddy! gallavich! bc I’m an absolute slut for our fav dads. anyway I plan on posting this on instagram late into november (for 30 day writing challenge) but i wanted to beta it here so enjoy :)

ER

“Ian” Mickey’s voice was hoarse on his side of the phone.

The seriousness of Mickey’s voice completely caught Ian off guard. “What’s wrong?”

“Ruby. she uh, *sniffle* She had a pretty bad fall. We’re in the emergency room right now. She busted her lip”. Ian didn’t have to be in the room to see his husband's mannerisms. He could tell he was pacing around in whatever disease-crawling waiting room he was in. He was probably rubbing his temple or nose as he usually did when he got nervous.

“I’m on Ashland, I should be there in about ten minutes”. Ian had done the runs for work that day. Ruby has the day off for some dumb holiday or teacher workday- some shit- and Mickey was on dad duty.

“Ok.” There was silence on the line for a second. Ian could hear Mickey try to take a deep breath in as his voice lowered, “Just. Just hurry, please. I’m kinda freaking the fuck out”.

Ian got to the ER in record time. One of the perks of driving a stolen ambulance was once you turned on the sirens to go to the hospital no one batted an eye and got the fuck out of the way.

Ian practically busted into the waiting room, his eyes on a straighten path, ignoring all the other sick or bloody people waiting to be seen. He spotted Mickey pretty immediately. He sat in one of the ugly blue chairs situated in the corner next to the mounted TVs.

“Hey” Ian placed a hand on Mickey’s shoulder, making his way in front of his husband. “Where’s Ruby?”.

Mickey stood up, wrapping his arms around Ian. His face hid in Ian’s large grey jacket. The act took Ian so off-guard he stood there stunned for a moment before wrapping his arms around his husband.

“I fucked up man” Mickey pulled away sniffling.

As Ian took a moment to look at him, he realised how distraught Mickey looked. He had seen Mickey cry this harshly only once before: the day his dad died. But now it was even worse. His blue eyes were bloodshot, fresh tears still falling. His whole face was red and hot, his nose looked chap from no-doubly being rubbed by his sleeve so many times.

“What happened?” Ian put his hand on Mickey’s back, rubbing his palm back and forth to bring the man some comfort.

“I- we, we were at the park and she was playing and shit. I looked away for one minute because this stupid fucking duck kept trying to steal her lunch and then I just heard screaming-“ He swallowed a lump in his throat, “I ran over and she was crying and there was so much fucking blood everywhere”.

Mickey stared forward. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular. It was more like he was staring at nothing- still trying to process what happened.

“Mickey-'' Ian just sighed, pulling him in a little closer. “She’s a kid. She’s gonna get hurt, it’s not your fault”

“You weren’t there, man. You didn’t have to deal with the crying and the mess and seeing her like that” Mickey grimiest.

Ian’s eyes briefly glanced back at the chair Mickey was previously sitting in. He noticed that Mickey’s flannel - which Ian was pretty sure was his at some point- was covered in blood. Ian figured he had given it to her to maintain the bleeding. Mickey’s shirt also had blood on it, looking like the world’s smallest crime scene. Just a small puddle of blood on the left of his chest. Ruby no doubt had rested her head there as Mickey carried her in.

Mickey stayed quiet. He couldn’t help but think about his dad and all the times he had beaten him and his siblings back in the day. Mickey felt like his heart was about to give out seeing a little blood coming from his daughter- his baby’s- face. It made him sick to his stomach thinking about how his dad got a kick out of seeing his kids like that.

The more he thought it over, the worse he felt. It wasn’t like he inflicted Ruby’s pain onto her but he was still there when it happened and didn’t stop it.

“I’m a shitty fucking dad” Mickey finally spoke up. His eyes were still dead focused on the tile in front of him.

“Hey, no. Mick, you are not a shitty dad” Ian immediately shot back. “Shit like this happens. Stop being so hard on yourself”

Mickey’s head shook; he finally looked away from his spot and into Ian’s eyes. “I should have been paying attention. Or caught her. Or made sure she was wearing more protective clothes or-“

Mickey was interrupted by lips against his.

“You need to shut the fuck up and relax” Ian’s hand went up to the base of Mickey’s neck, scrunching his hair. “And stop crying, it's kinda freaking me out”.

“Yeah man, I would also like to not be fucking crying like a little bitch right now but its a little hard when I’m fucking worrying about my fuckin kid” He said sharply. He took a moment, wiping his eyes again. “fuck” he breathed the word in.

“Where is she now?”

“Um back there” He pointed towards one of the closed offices. “The cunty nurses won’t let me in. Even though I’m her fuckin dad! Her caretaker? Legal guardian? Ya know the one that keeps her fucking ALIVE”

Mickey’s voice was loud as he looked back at the receptionist behind the desk. Ian couldn’t imagine the hissy-fit he must have pulled before he got there.

“Like I said many times before Mr Milkovich- Gallagher, Ruby needs stitches. You aren’t allowed to be back there while the doctor works because you’re too emotional-”

Mickey eyed the receptionist at the word ‘emotional’ and Ian couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, thinking about what his husband must have done.

“You were asked to wait out here while you waited for your husband and so you could calm down- which I see you haven’t”

Mickey’s mouth opened, no doubt to tell the poor woman off but Ian was quicker. He placed a hand over Mickey’s mouth so he couldn’t speak.

“your daughter will be out soon, sirs. For now please just stay seated”.

“Thank you” Ian was quick to wave her off before Mickey could take his feelings out on the woman again. Mickey did give a quick bird before Ian could push his hand down, to his own small victory.

The two sat back down. Staying in the room for what felt like hours- which in reality was less than fifteen minutes-. Mickey didn’t drop Ian’s hand. He picked at his wedding band absent-mindedly trying to keep himself calm. His knee bounced up and down, his mind racing too much to hear whatever shitty HGTV reruns were playing above him.

“Milkovich-Gallagher?” A voice from the back finally came. Both men immediately stood to their feet to go greet their daughter.

“Daddies!” Ruby ran the second she saw her two parents.

Mickey immediately bent down to her height. He squeezed her so hard that Ian was glad they were in a hospital, just in case he popped one of her organs.

“I’m so sorry, bee. baby,” Mickey stumbled over his words. He held her tighter, placing a kiss on her messy hair. He rarely called Ruby, baby. So when he did, Ian could tell how much Mickey thought he fucked up.

“Not your fault,” Ruby simply shrugged. “I just fell off the monkey bars silly daddy, it happens all the time”. Mickey had pulled away, resting his palms against her cheek.

“But it's okay because look how cool I look!” She pointed to her busted lip. “Dadda don’t I look cool?” Her eyes averted up to Ian.

The man gave her an over enthusiastic smile, his hand reaching down to ruffle her already messy hair. “Hell yeah you do, darling”.

She didn’t look horrible but Ian still flinched when he saw her: paternal instincts. His eyes darted to Mickey. He had gotten much paler if that was possible. His heart looked like it was about to fall out of his ass.

Ruby’s lip was red. The left side of her mouth was puffy, some small black thread stuck up from the upper lip. There was a little bit of dried blood on her chin and dress but other than that, she was a smiley little four-year-old.

“Do you think I’ll get a cool scar like you daddy?”.

Mickey remained stunned. He didn’t expect her to be this happy and okay but he figured that would be less time he had to spend hating himself for what happened. “I dunno rugrat, maybe?”

Ruby frowned slightly at this. “You do look like a badass though, kid” He placed a kiss on her forehead, lingering a little longer than he should have.

The doctor- Linda Hartwellis as her name tag read- turned her attention to Ian, Mickey too occupied showering Ruby with love. “She’s fine. Her injury wasn’t bad at all. She should recover in about a weekish- maybe sooner. As long as you treat the injury correctly she’s A-okay”

“I was an EMT Ma’am, I should know what I’m doing”

“Perfect! Just keep an eye on her today to make sure she doesn’t have a reaction of any kind to the medicine we gave her. We also did give her a quite strong local anaesthetic so she’ll probably pass out the second you get home anyway once the adrenaline runs out”.

The two checked out of the hospital and as it turned out, DR. Hartwellis knew what she was talking about: the kid was gone by the time they made it to the car - the ambulance would just have to be picked up another time- much less the apartment. Mickey spent the entire car ride staring at her at the rear-view, making sure she was okay.

When they got home, Mickey b-lined for the couch. He situated Ruby on his lap, mumbling some bullshit excuse like: “just making sure she’s not getting hot or anything” or “Making sure she’s breathing ok” to Ian whenever he passed the two in the living room.

Ian eventually sat down on the opposite side of the couch. Every time Ian looked over at the pair Mickey’s eyes focused on Ruby instead of whatever shitty daytime tv show reruns played on cable. He would be stroking her hair or applying ice or gauze on her lip.

He understood though. It had been a scary situation on an already stressful day. Ian couldn’t imagine how torn up Mickey was on the inside because of all of this.

Ian also knew how insecure Mickey was about his parenting. He tried his absolute hardest to be the complete opposite of his dad - harder than he had ever tried in anything-. Mickey was genuinely terrified of messing Ruby up. Having her have the same shitty parenting models they had.

Ian also knew Mickey was a great dad and had nothing to worry about no matter how much he overreacted to things like this. He meant well even if his execution was over dramatic.

As Mickey moved her to their bed that night, insisting she needed to sleep in their bed her entire recovery time, he swore to himself he would always protect her. Never let anything like this happen to her ever again.

REEDITED

[elldell1204]

Hair Me Out - Spencer Reid x Reader

Y/N wears her hair in many different styles, and her boyfriend, Spencer, seems to appreciate each one in different ways.

A/N: So, I just wanted to add, I try to make my ‘reader’ as ambiguous as possible, that way you can identify with them more. However, I struggled with this one, as I am a white female with straight hair and not much knowledge of (though deep appreciation and love for) natural or curly hair, seeing as I have little to no experience. Therefore, I have tried making this as inclusive as possible but I’m sorry if at any point seems too specific and you can’t put yourself into the story. Feel free to call me out on anything you aren’t comfortable with!

Warnings: Slight sexual themes, swearing, normal Criminal minds stuff (let me know if I missed anything)

wc - 3,217

Dutch Braids -

You and Spencer had just gotten off from work about an hour ago after a gruelling day with an equally stressful case. Which is why as soon as you were both showered, dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find and waiting for the takeout to arrive, you were both sprawled out on the couch in front of a movie, having no energy left to talk, let alone move when there was a knock at the door. Seeing as you were the one with less of the other person’s body parts draped across you, you got up and answered while Spencer didn’t move an inch. You couldn’t blame him; the poor boy was exhausted.

Around twenty minutes later, you’d both eaten, leaving your plates on the coffee table in front of you with the mental promise to wash them later, and were back to snuggling into each other, getting as close as you possibly could to soothe each other after the day you had. Your head was tucked neatly into Spencer’s chest, your knees drawn up to near your chin in the foetal position, making yourself as small as possible. Spencer was the opposite; spread like a starfish with his arm around your back and his head rested against the back of the couch.

If someone were to ask you what the movie was about, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Truth is, you felt like you were stuck in-between both the lands of sleep and consciousness, due to wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend (despite him being your work partner for the best part of sixteen hours) but also wanting to sleep for three days. In attempt to make yourself just a little bit more awake, you started trying to focus on different things around you. First it was the quote on the front of the main character’s t-shirt, then it was the Metro you could faintly hear as the last train of the night rattled by, then it was Spencer’s finger tracing up and down one of your braids that you’d done quickly after your shower.

“Spence?” You murmured the first words spoken in practically an hour.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, his half-lidded eyes shifting to your face that you had lifted to face him.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was merely a whisper, and if you weren’t listening for it, the only way you’d know he was speaking was from the vibration of his chest.

You gestured to your hair with your finger, and only when he realised did he stop what he was doing and chuckle lightly and dreamily.

“Oh, sorry, I’m not sure, it just feels soft, I guess. I’ll stop.”

“No, no, it’s okay, you can keep going.” You smiled at him, mustering up the energy to lean up and press a sweet kiss to his lips before retracting back to your previous position.

Ponytail -

To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You usually like to try and stay as positive as you could be when chasing a serial, paedophilic murderer, but there’s only so many deep breaths and coffee breaks you can take before you really start to get pissed off. Not only had you been stuck in hot and sticky Texas for near a week, but you had also been put into single rooms at the hotel you were staying at. Now, not to sound ungrateful (because you very much are of the fact that you at least have a roof over your head), but only having one single bed to a room means that you can’t snuggle with Spencer after a long day, and these were proving to be very long days.

And to add to the problem, Hotch was constantly on edge since the start of the case, with the victims looking a hell of a lot like Jack, and when you were the closest person to him on that first day when his tensions finally boiled over, you had been the one in the firing line of his rage. Which you can take. You knew he didn’t mean it, and if he had to take his frustrations out on someone for a few days so he could do his job with a clearer head, you were happy to be the target.

But now after a particularly rough six days, your patience was wearing thin, and everyone on the team could see it, which is why they offered you and Spencer any jobs they were assigned that would get them out of the stifling police precinct. And you knew they had good intentions, but even that was starting to annoy you.

So now you were sat at the table in the conference room, a pen between your teeth as your eyes frantically search over the evidence you have piled in front of you, desperate for the answers to this case to fly off the page and hit you smack dab in the forehead so you could just go home and have a fight with a pillow or something, anything to destress.

You heard the footsteps coming from the doorway, but you refused to turn around. If it was Hotch, you swear to god you might actually lose your job with what you were thinking of doing if he was short with you one more time. If it was Morgan ready to hand you a first-class ticket to visit the slightly wrinkly and very smelly coroner again, you might actually flip the table.

“Hey, Y/N.” Spencer greeted you warmly, sitting on the table to your right as your eyes slowly lifted to meet his. No, not Spencer. Hold it together, Y/N, hold in your rage, he’s done nothing wrong. “Oh, I haven’t seen you with your hair tied back in a while. I like it.”

Such a sweet statement, and yet it broke you. You could see in his face the moment your eyes lit aflame with anger, and you couldn’t miss the harsh swallow he took to brace himself for your fury.

“Well, Dr Reid, let me teach you a lesson, shall I? 3 reasons. One, it is way more practical for kicking someone’s ass, and right now, I would love nothing more than catching the sleazy son-of-a-bitch who is deriving pleasure from this,” You gesture violently to the crime scene photos splayed out in front of you before continuing to spit your venom. “And beating the living shit out of him until he’s crying out for his mommy. Two, do you know how many officers have tried to flirt up a storm with me in the past week? Way too many to count on one fucking hand! One even went so far as to try stroking my hair like a goddamn cat, and so to avoid that situation, I have put it in a ponytail, because if anything of that nature happens again, I won’t hesitate to break someone’s arm. And three, I usually have it down because most men think you’re dumber when you play with your hair, or I can play seductive to get what I want without a warrant fifty percent of the time. But seeing as we have absolutely nobody on the suspect list right now, and the sheer fury I possess at this moment, I don’t foresee the possibility of me needing to be either of those things, do you?”

Your lungs were heaving once you were done, and poor Spencer looked like you just told him you were a Russian spy sent to kill him. Your eyes were locked onto each other’s, and when you came back to reality from your rant, you recognised the softness and love in his that you were grateful for every day. Granted, they were a little masked by fear right now, but you’d admired him often enough to be able to spot even the faintest hint of your favourite emotions.

You let out a deep sigh, signalling you were back to your normal self as much as you could be right then, before dropping your head into your hands to rub your eyes with the heel of your palms.

It was then you felt the unmistakeable warmth of Spencer’s hand rubbing soothing patterns on your back as you gathered yourself together, bringing tears to your eyes as you opened them once more to face him.

“Oh, Spencer,” You whispered, grabbing his hands tightly with yours, lifting them to your lips and pressing sweet kisses to his knuckles. “I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“It’s okay, my love.”

“No, it’s really not. I never should have raised my voice at you, especially when it’s not your fault at all that I’m frustrated.”

“Y/N, I understand.” He smiled at you, a small and sympathetic one, but it calmed you nonetheless as he stood, pulling you up from the chair to wrap his arms tightly around you. You gripped onto him like he might run away if you didn’t, breathing in the warm scent that is so unmistakeably Spencer. Your vision was now cloudy with the tears that so desperately wanted to spill, but you were adamant you wouldn’t give the local cops the satisfaction of seeing you with wet cheeks. Luckily, Spencer knows you better than anyone.

“There’s a park a few minutes’ walk from here with a small duck pond. Would you like some fresh air?”

You nodded frantically against his neck as you finally let go, allowing him to lead you out of the precinct, hand in hand, his thumb running softly over yours as you walked.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled, leaning in closer to him as you carried on down the path.

“Nonsense,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “We deserve each other. Just remind me not to get on your bad side; I like having both of my arms functional.”

Bed Head -

A blaring alarm at 6am has to be up there with one of the most annoying things on the planet, and I work with Derek Morgan. You let out a groan, your arm floundering around to find the source of the wretched noise. Groaning in defeat of not being able to do it with your eyes closed, you cracked one open, locating your phone, and finding sweet relief in the snooze button. A very overexaggerated yawn left your lips as you attempted to stretch your arms over your head in an effort to wake up, only to find one immobilised in the grasp of your boyfriend.

You took advantage the rare opportunity of waking up before Mr Alarm Clock himself (also known as Dr Spencer Reid) by allowing yourself a few minutes to admire his form in the golden sliver of sunlight escaping the outside world through the gap in the curtains. It was only when your alarm went off again after the five-minute snooze timer did you try to wake him up.

“Spence, baby, time to wake up.” You whisper, attempting to gently coax him from his slumber. When that didn’t work, you laced your fingers through his mousy-brown curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, just how he likes. Only then did you receive a response in the form of a muffled groan into his pillow.

“C’mon, my love. We need to get ready for work.” You spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

You chuckled lightly, wrapping your arms around his torso as your legs entwined. “Okay, my sleepy darling. But only five.”

“Mmm, five more minutes.” He mumbled, nestling his face into your hair as he pulls you closer than you thought possible.

Safe to say you took breakfast to go, just so you could bask in each other’s embraced for a little longer than five minutes.

Post-Sex Hair -

You climbed from his lap gently, unsure if your legs could hold yourself up as you panted heavily. Practically throwing yourself down beside Spencer on the bed, he took the opportunity to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his as you laid your head on his chest. You were both still a little dreamlike in your post-orgasmic haze, and when Spencer began to press kiss after kiss into your hair, you didn’t hesitate to enjoy them.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered into your hair, punctuating his statement with a final kiss for good measure.

You looked up from your position, shifting slightly so you were face to face, and scrunched up your nose. “Really? Even with sweaty sex hair?”

He chuckled, and you followed with a giggle of your own as he leant over to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “Especially with sweaty sex hair.” He whispered with a joking edge to his voice, his lips brushing with yours.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the team wouldn’t love my sweaty sex hair, so I better hop in the shower.” You smiled, kissing him quickly once more before climbing out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom, a sway to your hips.

As you reached the door, you turned to shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the blissed-out boy behind you. “Oh, are you not joining me?”

You swear you’d never seen the boy move as fast as when he clambered from the bed and chased you into the bathroom.

Straightened -

There was something about going undercover that equally excited you and creeped you out. Especially tonight, when you were having to go under in a club to catch a guy who was killing adulterous wives. You were the closest person in the team to his type, so it was a no-brainer to choose you, really. Didn’t mean you were happy with it, and it seemed that Spencer wasn’t either, if his clenched jaw was anything to go by.

Well, you were going to do it no matter what, so why not get yourself dressed up and try to bring some joy back to a less than ideal situation? That is why you were stood in the locker room of a precinct on the west coast in a red crushed velvet minidress with black heels, a fake wedding ring and straightened hair, and you couldn’t lie, you were totally feeling yourself.

“Woah, Y/N, you look…amazing.” You heard Spencer say as he entered the room.

You turned your head and smiled at him, feeling a little flustered as his eyes trailed over your form. You attempted to push your dress further down your thighs as he walked to you, his hands encircling your waist from behind and his head perched on your shoulder.

“It’s not too much is it?” You mumbled, looking down at yourself to do a final once over.

You felt his fingers under your chin, lifting your head to look him in the eyes through the mirror, ones filled with love and a hint of desire that set your skin aflame. He brushed your hair aside from your neck to trail kisses down the side of your throat, eliciting a breathy sigh from your lips.

“No, Y/N, you look badass.”

You giggled at the word that seemed so foreign coming from Spencer, but that was soon muffled when he spun you around by his hands on your hips and his lips hungrily met yours. Your lips moved against each other’s, his tongue coming to swipe at your bottom lip in a request for entrance. You granted it, and soon you felt your back collide with the cool metal of the lockers. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt as you explored his mouth with your tongue, relishing in the taste of him. You laced a hand up into his hair as you felt a hand that he had at your waist moving to your ass, gripping it roughly, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Reid? Y/L/N? You two lovebirds ready?” You heard Morgan mock from the doorway and you both immediately jumped apart like some sort of invisible wall had shot up between you.

Looking around to see that Morgan wasn’t in your eyeline, given that the lockers luckily blocked you two from his view. But not from earshot, seeing as you could quite clearly hear his hearty chuckles as his footsteps got quieter and quieter.

You looked up at Spencer, his hair dishevelled and his tie askew, a look of both embarrassment and amusement at being caught making out like two horny teenagers adorned his face. A grin broke out on your lips, which he mirrored, and soon you were both laughing hysterically as you sorted yourselves out in the tiny little mirror on the wall, attempting to make it look like you weren’t a few seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off, before re-joining the team in the conference room.

Messy Bun -

Ugh, cold and flu season. You swear you never make it through it unscathed. And it seems as if your battle was commencing today. You woke up feeling dreadful; runny nose, scratchy throat, constant sneezing, and red-rimmed eyes. Attractive.

There was no question in having to call in sick, so after throwing your hair up in the messiest of messy buns and locating the snuggest blanket, you dialled the number. You could practically hear the wince from Hotch when you started having a sneezing fit down the phone. Now you weren’t sure if you could look the man in the eye when you went back.

Once that torture was over and done with, you were feeling sorry for yourself and decided on a warm cup of tea and a dose of shitty daytime television. You were halfway through some over-enthusiastic talk show when you heard a knock at your door. Refusing to leave the blanket behind that you’d burrito’d yourself in, you shuffled over to the door.

You didn’t expect a very sympathetic looking Spencer on the other side of the door, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a welcomed sight.

“Hey.” You croaked out.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” You gave him a look that said it all, and he chuckled lightly. He lifted the bag he had in his hand. “I brought the best cure I could think of; chicken noodle soup.”

“I don’t want to get you sick, Spencer.” You whined, wanting nothing more than to curl up into his side but holding onto your selfless and rational thoughts by a mere thread.

You smiled at that, stepping aside to let him in. He passed you and went and got comfortable on your couch, grabbing a fork on the way. When you met him in the living room, he was ready and waiting for you with his arms open for you to snuggle into.

“Don’t worry about me. Now come on, your soup is getting cold.” He smiled, making grabby hands at you.

You made your way over, sinking into his embrace as he passed you the container and your fork. After a few mouthfuls and several minutes of listening to his steady breaths and thumps of his heart, you were feeling much better.

“Thank you.” You mumbled once you were finished and had placed your empty container on the coffee table in front of you, nuzzling further into Spencer’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Didn’t have to tell you twice.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 2

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is still quiet at 8 am, weary agents are sipping their second cup of coffee and wrapping their brains around the task of the day. Studying the minds of murderers, rapists and sadistic torturers is enough to spoil anyone’s breakfast, and yet they approach it clinically, objectively. The reward of knowing that you helped take a monster off the streets is barely enough to keep them going, but they do. Maybe even more than that, they live with the guilt of knowing that if they stopped, it might mean one more murdered child or assaulted woman. One more man found floating in the river. So they get up every day and do it again.

Mulder stops by A.D. Kirkbride’s office to say good morning and finds the man angrily shoving the phone back on its cradle with a plasticky crack.

“Morning, sir. Going great so far I gather?” he quips from his spot in the doorframe.

A.D. Kirkbride scoffs, running a hand through his short cropped sandy-blonde hair. Diminutive in stature, Kirkbride is someone to be taken seriously. His pointed features and gold-rimmed glasses convey the gravity of the work they do here each day in his ever-present frown.

“These goddamn worthless couriers are on my last fucking nerve,” he laments, gathering the papers on his desk into one pile with jerky, frustrated movements. “This is the third goddamn time one of them has no-showed. We need that autopsy report from Quantico today, and because this worthless fucking courier decided to get the flu or something, we have to send an agent down there to get it.” He sighs and sits back in his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Can you send Agent Wilkes in here, please, so I can let him know he has to waste two fucking hours of his day driving down there?”

Mulder shrugs. “I can go get it, I haven’t even started on the Marino file yet. It’s a nice day for a drive.”

Kirkbride eyes him skeptically. “You��re a senior agent, Mulder. You’ve earned the right not to be the bitch-boy.”

Mulder laughs good-naturedly. “I appreciate that, sir, but I really don’t mind. I just got the new Radiohead cassette, it’ll give me a chance to listen to it.”

Kirkbride nods and puts his glasses back on. “I guess it’s Wilkes’ lucky day, then. It’s the autopsy report for the Dugan file, you should be able to get it from the pathologist on duty. And don’t fuck around, we need it ASAP.”

Mulder puts a hand to his chest and makes a mock-wounded face. “Me? Fuck around? I would never, sir.”

Kirkbride shakes his head with a smirk and turns back to his computer. “Get the fuck out of here, Mulder.”

It’s a beautiful late-Spring day and Mulder really does appreciate the opportunity to take a drive to Quantico, even during the morning rush hour. Removing his suit jacket and loosening his tie, he pops in the cassette and merges onto I-395 South as Thom Yorke sings Paranoid Android.

Ninety minutes later, he’s parked near the morgue; having worked out of Quantico for years before securing a spot on the small team of criminal behavioral analysts who operate out of the Hoover building, he knows his way around. He first pokes his head into the office the pathologists share and, finding it empty, he moves on to the autopsy bay. The slabs are all clean and free from corpses, which is a relief. As many crime scene photos as he’s seen, the live version always gives him the creeps. A young woman in blue scrubs is perched on a stool with her back to him, filling out a form by hand. He approaches her, speaking when he’s still several feet away so he doesn’t startle her.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the pathologist on duty,” he says, and she swivels on her seat, her shoulder length auburn hair swinging gently with the motion.

When she turns to face him, he’s momentarily struck by how pretty she is. Her red hair is complemented by ivory skin, a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her Grecian nose. Her eyes are a brilliant shade of blue, not unlike the morning sky he’d enjoyed on his drive down.

“I’m the pathologist on duty, how can I help you, Mr.-” she looks at him expectantly.

“Mulder, Agent Mulder,” he replies, stepping forward to offer his hand.

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?” she asks, taking his hand with a firm, confident grip, though her palm is dwarfed by his own broad paw.

“I’ve been tasked with picking up the Dugan autopsy report. Seems like there was a snafu with the courier,” he offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an attempt to act casual.

She stands, and he’s again struck, but this time by how short she is, barely reaching his shoulder in her sneakers. “That’s an odd task for an agent, isn’t it?” she says as she moves to a small filing cabinet and rifles through its contents.

He moves to stand beside her, leaning against the wall. “I suppose so, but I don’t mind. Nice to take a break from profiling sociopaths now and then.” He feels his heart do a little leap at the small smile that quirks at the corner of her mouth in response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he continues.

She turns to him, holding out a file. “I didn’t give it,” she says dryly. “It’s Dana Scully. I did this autopsy myself, actually, and I’d be interested to know what you make of it.”

He opens the file and leafs through its contents as she returns to her post on the stool, picking up her pen. She appears to see this conversation as concluded, but he doesn’t feel ready for it to end just yet.

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard a bit about this case, though it’s not one I’m assigned to. What interests you about it?” he asks as he follows her back to where she’s sat down, taking the stool beside her without invitation. She quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything about it.

“My findings indicate that though there is only one entry point for the stab wound, there were at least 15 distinct entries into that same location, which would suggest that the assailant stabbed him in nearly the exact same location repeatedly. I suppose I’m wondering what would possess someone to do that.”

He watches her speak with rapt attention, transfixed by the soft, sibilant S’s that pour from her pouty mouth.

“Hey Scully, do you know of any good coffee places around here?” he asks hopefully, completely changing the subject.

She gives him a curiously incredulous look. “Scully is my last name, my first name is Dana,” she answers.

He studies her for a moment, then shakes his head slowly. “You don’t look like a Dana,” he finally says.

Her eyebrows lift and he can see that she’s fighting back a smile. “Really? What do I look like then?”

“A Scully,” he says plainly, and his heart fills to bursting at the wry smile he gets in response.

She shakes her head and turns back to the form she was filling out. “There’s a place called Cafe Adamo a few minutes away that’s pretty good,” she answers his question.

“Great, are you free now?” he asks, forcing a calm demeanor even as his palms are becoming clammy.

She snaps her head up from the form to look at him with an open-mouthed expression of surprise, and he sees a bit of panic in her eyes. Not a good sign.

“Oh,” she stammers, “I’m sorry, Agent Mulder, I have a boyfriend.” Her cheeks are reddening in a devastatingly cute way.

He keeps his expression neutral, and can’t resist messing with her a little.

“I just meant as colleagues, Scully, to discuss the file,” he says matter-of-factly.

If she was blushing before, she’s morphing into a tomato now. She closes her eyes briefly and takes a breath. “I-I am so sorry, Agent Mulder, that was very presumptuous.”

He smiles broadly, no longer able to contain how much fun he’s having with this exchange.

“I’m just messing with you, Scully. I was definitely asking you out,” he admits, and her eyes go big before she deflates a little with relief, biting her lip and looking away with a soft smile on her mouth. “Thank you for this,” he says, holding up the file. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

He stands and moves to the door, stopping just before he exits. “Say hi to that boyfriend of yours for me,” he adds, “he’s a lucky guy.”

She blushes again and he takes a moment to soak up the image before he returns to his car. Tossing the file onto the passenger seat, he flips the cassette to side B and hits the road back up to Washington, finding that he can’t seem to get his mouth to stop smiling.

————————————————————————-

She slumps through the door at half-past six, dead on her feet.

“Hey,” Ethan calls from in front of the stove, “dinner will be about twenty minutes, if you want to take a shower.”

He knows that she always likes to shower when she’s performed autopsies, not wanting the stink of the morgue to find its way onto any of their furniture.

“Thank you,” she replies, toeing off her shoes and stopping by to give him a quick kiss before she moves to the bathroom.

The hot spray of the shower is a welcome relief and she emerges feeling much more alert. They sit at the table, sharing the details of their days over shrimp scampi and white wine. They tend to be very thorough in their retelling of their workdays, and Ethan gives a play by play of a meeting with his boss before Dana tells him all about a student who challenged her in front of the class and how she shut him down. She doesn’t intentionally leave out the interaction with Agent Mulder, but it doesn’t come up somehow.

After dinner, they curl up on the couch to watch ER together. Ethan is on his back with his head propped up on the arm of the couch, and Dana fits herself into the vee of his legs, her back resting on his chest. He idly traces his fingers across her collarbone and shoulders while they watch George Clooney and Julianna Margulies grapple with being both coworkers and lovers.

This is their favorite show, and yet her mind continues to wander to those hooded green eyes, and the boyish smile that played across his pouty lower lip. He was very cute, that’s without question, but she interacts with handsome men all the time at work; why is this particular one worming his way into her brain? She shakes her head to clear the thought, then rotates her body so that she’s belly to belly with Ethan, her head resting on his chest. He kisses the crown of her head and she sighs. She’s got a good thing here, that much she knows.

Maybe she should have gotten coffee with him, though, as colleagues. Maybe.

[gureishi]

A #14 with Saeyoung. I love your fics ❤️ Thank you

Thank YOU, dear! ♡

Writing this one was cathartic af. I don’t often write them fighting, because I don’t think they fight much—but the prompt was begging for it and I think a lot about the unexpected ways they find themselves grappling with their trauma.

fourteen: hurts like hell to be torn apart

SaeyoungXReader, T (referenced violence, angst with a happy ending), words: 2912

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Bang.

The sound reverberates off the cobblestones and the colorful storefronts. It’s as loud and dark as the street is cheerful and bright. You feel it in your bones.

And for some reason that you have neither the time nor the emotional capacity to explain, you take off running. Away from the blue-and-white awnings of the little farmers market. Around a corner. Down the alley. Toward the sound.

I know someone’s been shot, says your brain, and you don’t notice the general absence of panic in the crowd—don’t register that no one is yelling, no one else is running. Your sandals slap against the pavement, hard. Your blood rushes in your ears and your heart is in your mouth.

I have to find them, or else… Your vision blurs, your thoughts scramble. Or else.

You’re halfway down the alley, running straight into the setting sun, and you still can’t make out what’s happening at the end of the narrow, dark, trash can-lined street. You squint, expecting at any moment to see a body on the ground, blood pooling on the uneven concrete…

…and your line of sight is cut off as you run face-first into something firm and warm. Someone. You let out a muffled cry and try to pull away, but there are hands gripping your arms and you find you can’t move.

“What do you think you’re doing?” hisses a familiar voice, and although his scent hits you then, and you know you should feel safe, you continue to struggle—hands balled into fists, striking his chest.

“Let me go!” you yell, raising a hand to shove him. His long fingers wrap around your fist. “I have to…” you gasp.

“Nope,” he says. He wraps his strong arms around you and you give in, slumping against him. There’s literally no way out now—you know him too well. How did he catch up to you, how did he cut you off…? He’s not even out of breath.

“Saeyoung…”

“Look.” He’s still got you in his firm grip, but he lifts one arm so you can see through the triangle it makes with his torso. Now that you’ve stopped your insane sprint, you can see more clearly. The end of the alley is…empty.

Your throat feels raw. You realize that at some point you’ve started to cry.

“It was a car backfiring,” he says stiffly.

“A car…”

Rationally, you understand: why the sound was too quiet, why nobody else took off running. Why there’s no body slowly growing cold at the end of the alley. But you can’t quite think rationally. Your heart is pounding so hard you feel like you might throw up.

Saeyoung spins you around and half-drags you down the alley, back the way you came. You know you should feel relieved—comforted by his arm around you, thrilled that your instincts were wrong. But his grip on your shoulder is bruising and you feel yourself wriggling, trying to turn around, trying to check the imagined crime scene just one more time.

You turn a corner, back to the shopping center. Here, nothing has changed. There’s the same group of kids in brightly-colored outfits lounging on the steps to the ice cream place. There’s the same harried-looking mother struggling to get her three toddlers in a stroller. There are couples walking hand-in-hand and friends calling to each other over the crowd.

Why, you think, a bitter taste in your mouth, was I the only one who ran?

The dissonance between the cheery atmosphere and the way you are feeling makes your head spin. You sneak a glance at Saeyoung’s face—he has a frozen expression, unmoving, like a statue. His grip on your arm is growing painful.

“Saeyoung,” you say, forcing your voice into a semblance of evenness. “Will you please let go of me now?”

He jumps almost as if he’s forgotten where he is. He drops his arm and it swings aimlessly at his side. He’s not looking at you.

“Let’s go home,” he says at last, and his voice takes you by surprise. His expression is carefully arranged, stoic, but he sounds like he’s ready to hit someone. He takes off walking—away from the pleasant shopping center, down a quieter street, toward the garage. You don’t follow.

He feels your absence, pauses, turns. The sinking sun sets his hair ablaze. Beautiful, you think—if not for the hard look on his face.

He looks, to you, like he’s powering down, turning himself off. There’s no light in his eyes. On some deeply-buried logical level you know that he’s feeling the same echoes of the past that you are, riding the same wave of terror and remembrance. But you feel anger bubbling under your skin and you want to shake him and scream don’t look at me like that in his face.

He spins around and stalks toward the garage. You follow him in silence. Through the entrance. Up the stairs. He picks up the pace and, stubbornly, you slow yours.

He’s unlocked the car, opened your door, and gone around to his own side before you’ve caught up to him. You can’t explain why—just as you couldn’t explain the irrational bolt of horror that struck you when you turned and ran down the alley—but you feel like you could strangle him.

Still in silence, he starts the engine. You can’t stand it anymore.

“So,” you say. Your legs are shaking. “Are you not speaking to me?”

He pulls out of the parking spot. Your head is pounding. Answer me.

He pays at the automated meter. Inches the car down the driveway. Then, finally: “Don’t be so childish,” he says.

Something snaps inside of you.

“Childish? From the man who’s giving me the silent treatment?” You clench your fists, leaving little half-moon imprints in your palms. You look at him sideways; no reaction registers on his face. “Would you mind at least telling me why you’ve decided you’re not talking to me anymore?”

“You don’t—” For the first time, you see anger flash across his face; it disappears as quickly as it came. The car speeds up a tiny bit; he corrects it instantly. “You don’t know why I’m mad at you?”

You feel yourself crumbling—a chain reaction that began when you heard the not-gunshot moving on to its inevitable conclusion.

“If you’d tell me, I bet I’d know,” you snap.

He exhales slowly, as if willing himself to be patient enough to deal with you. You want to wipe that expressionless mask off his face.

“Why did you take off like that?” he asks. His face remains impervious but the anger is in his voice and it scares you a little.

“I thought it was a gunshot,” you say. “Obviously.”

“So did I,” he growls. “Which is why I’m asking you why you ran toward it.”

His words are like a slap in the face and, stubbornly, desperately, you want to hurt him back.

“You’re being condescending,” you say. Your voice shakes, giving you away. “I’m not a child.”

“Then don’t act like one!” Every word is like an icicle to your heart. “It was stupid. Do not ever do something like that again.”

It’s too much for you—the reprimanding tone, the fear you still feel in your bones, the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. You feel tears coming again and you hate yourself for it.

“Don’t speak to me like that!” you say, and it comes out every bit as harsh as you’d intended. He flinches.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says through clenched teeth. “I need to make it clear to you just how—how dangerous and idiotic—”

“So whenever there’s something dangerous—and there will be again, because this is our lives—I’m meant to, what? Let you take care of it and hope for the best?” You feel hysterical. Your throat is raw.

“Yes!” he yells, and it’s your turn to recoil, shrinking into your seat. “That is. Quite literally. What I was trained to do.” He’s tried to lower his voice but the quiet derision is somehow worse than when he shouted.

“You don’t trust me. At all,” you say. There are the tears again. You turn to hide your face, wiping them furiously from your eyes.

“No, I don’t,” he says. “Acting like you did today just proves to me that I shouldn’t.”

Your insides are caving in. You want to grab him by his stupid hoodie strings and make him look into your eyes and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

Your head turned, your forehead pressed against the cool glass, you spot a familiar exit. You pounce on a different instinct—because it’s there, because it’s easy, because you know it will would him.

“Take the exit,” you command. You’re shocked by how cold your voice is. How mean you sound.

“What?” 

“Saeyoung, take the exit. Right now.”

He does.

He drives in silence, slowing the car to a stop at a red light. You peek at him. There’s realization in his dark golden eyes—and hurt, too. Good.

“This is the way to Jaehee’s house,” he says. He sounds numb.

“Yes,” you say. “Take me there.”

“But…but we should go home,” he says quietly, and in that moment you feel so angry you want to laugh at the vulnerability in his voice. It’s so easy to hurt him. You can still feel the hot lava anger bubbling under your skin, can still hear the way his voice sounded as he told you he didn’t trust you.

“I don’t want to go home with you,” you say.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

Jaehee opens the door, takes one look at your face, and ushers you inside without a word. You can’t help it—you turn as she closes the door behind you to watch Saeyoung’s headlights slowly pulling away. He’d waited till you were inside.

Right. Because I can’t be trusted on my own.

Jaehee doesn’t pry, and you love this about her. She ushers you into her warm, familiar living room. She gives you a blanket. She offers to make you a coffee.

It’s late, but you say yes anyway.

It’s only once she’s brought you a mug filled to the brim with foam and dusted with cinnamon that she folds herself onto the couch beside you and fixes you with a knowing look.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

And you have been—fine as you stormed out of the car without saying goodbye, calm as you watched him drive away, steady as you sat alone on Jaehee’s small-yet-squishy couch. But now that she’s asked it all crashes down around you and you burst into tears.

Wordlessly, she opens her arms for you—a bit awkwardly—and you slip into them, burying your face in her chest. 

“We never fight,” you sob, knowing you’re soaking her sweater. She runs a soft, small hand over your back—stiffly, like she’s not used to it, but gently, like she wants to be. “We never…and I don’t even know—w-why…”

Jaehee hums soothingly. She takes a deep breath and you follow her lead, choking a little on your own tears.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” she asks softly. She adjusts you, tucking your head against her shoulder. “It might help.”

You sniffle. In this warm, comfortable room, with this warm, comfortable person, suddenly your actions feel so irrational. Why did you run toward what you assumed was a gunshot? Why did you respond to his concern for you with such unbridled rage?

You tell Jaehee about it—the sound, the alley, the way his face looked when he caught up to you. The things he said in the car. The things you said.

She listens patiently, steady as ever. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I’m not entirely surprised to hear that you had that kind of reaction,” she says when you’ve run out of words and are sniffling into her neck. “You’ve been through quite a lot.”

“What, today?” You wriggle into a sitting position. She hands you a tissue box and your coffee.

“Certainly today, but I was actually referring to the past year.”

Oh.

You blow your nose. Take a sip of the coffee. It’s delicious.

“You’re saying I freaked out like that because of, um. Because of what happened at Mint Eye?”

Jaehee looks down at her hands in her lap. “Obviously, I don’t know everything that happened,” she says carefully. “But I can imagine that what you witnessed isn’t something you’ll get over easily. It will take a lot more time.”

When she says it like this, it feels obvious. You can still feel it ringing in your eardrums: the gun, the shouting. The sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Yeah,” you say. Your hands are shaking again.

“Saeyoung should know this,” she says. She places a hand over yours; it stills them.

“He does,” you say. “But he has his own—things—to deal with. From that day, and also before.”

“Yes.” She pats your hands once and then rises. With your eyes, you follow as she goes to the entryway, retrieves your bag from where you dropped it. Pulls out your phone from the outer pocket. “As I suspected.”

She hands you the phone. The screen’s lit up—you’ve just missed a call. Several calls.

“I’m going to make more coffee,” she says, slipping politely toward her kitchen—out of earshot. Your cup is still almost full.

You hesitate for a moment—just a moment—looking at the rows of his name on your screen. The shape of it makes your skin tingle.

You call him back.

“Hello?” He picks up after a quarter of a ring. He sounds breathless. You wonder if he’s made it home already.

“Hi,” you say.

“You called me back.” He’s talking quietly. His throat sounds raw. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Of course I did.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you can hear him breathing—hard, ragged.

“I’m so, so, so, so sorry,” he says, and you can tell that he’s been crying too, in the way his voice catches at the end of each word.

“Saeyoung, I—”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I should never have spoken to you that way. It’s no excuse, but I was just so scared when you ran from me, I—I panicked, but I didn’t mean to…I never meant to—”

“I know.” He shuts up right away. He sounds miserable. You want to stroke his pretty head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s okay. I did deserve it.” His voice is small and suddenly you want to be home, want to kiss his silly, perfect face and squeeze him till the sob is gone from his voice.

“You didn’t,” you say. “You were scared. I can understand that.”

“I was terrified,” he says. “I thought the same you did—you know, that it was a gun, and so I went to get in front of you, but you’d already taken off running toward it. I just—it felt like my soul was getting ripped from my body. I haven’t felt like that since…since—”

“Me neither,” you say. “I mean, me too.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to run toward a gunshot,” he says, and he laughs a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “You’re supposed to be somewhere safe and warm where nothing can hurt you. I can’t—if anything happened to you, I’d—”

“Me too,” you repeat. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

It’s quiet. You breathe together. In, out.

“I love that you want to protect me,” you say. “But I need you to trust me, too.” He hesitates, and you know that a part of him wants to say so don’t put yourself in danger. Once, he would have. He’s grown up so much since then.

“I do trust you,” he says. His voice breaks. “I didn’t mean what I—I promise I’ll try to—you’re my whole world,” he finishes. Desperately, miserably. Hopefully.

“I want to come home,” you say.

“You do?” The optimism rushes into his voice and you want to bathe in it.

“Please.” You smile and taste your own salty tears at the corners of your lips.

The doorbell rings.

No way.

“No way,” you say into the phone. You cross the room, tug the door open. “No way,” you say to his face. His arms hang at his sides and his eyes are wide and bright as if he’s still not sure if you’ll slam the door in his face.

“I only drove like a block away…” he mutters, trailing off nervously. Sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Should’ve known.” You throw yourself at him and he tears his hands out of his pockets in time to catch you, a surprised laugh bubbling in his throat as you catapult into his chest.

“So you missed me even though I’m a sad, miserable excuse for a boyfriend?” he says into your hair. You stand on tiptoe and kiss his face till his eyes are glazed over and the goofy grin is back on his face. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, dummy.” You kiss his throat and he shivers. “Take me home.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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[alecmagnuslwb]

Photograph - @doubleredweek Day 1

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Jason walks leisurely down the hall of the Queen family cabin; he’s still getting used to being welcome here even if he has a key and an open invitation these days.

He left Roy in the study that’s more like the laboratory of a mad scientist with a specific arrow fetish talking with Oliver at length about some new trick arrow and the detailed schematics of it to seek out Lian.

Last night had been what Jason’s pretty sure has come to be her most anticipated Saturday of every month. Sleepover night with aunt Mia and grandma Dinah, which also means date night for Jason and Roy which usually means a nice dinner and sex in rooms that aren’t as private as their bedroom and occasionally means busting up a criminal front and then having a quickie on a roof.

Somewhere down this long hallway Lian is fast asleep, still conked out from the night before that was no doubt filled with far too many cookies and a bedtime triple past what hers usually is.

He takes his time looking at the many framed photos that line the walls. These aren’t the Queen family portraits or red carpet moments that the general public gets to see, these are Dinah Lance specials. Somewhere along the line on one of her tours with her band she’d picked up a camera and just never stopped clicking.

The in between moments are what she calls them, they’re her favorite kind to capture. The pure, unfiltered moments of the people she loves most. Lian occupies most of the wall these days, a grandchild edging out just about everyone else on the photo priority scale.

There are ones of her as a baby and one’s all the way up to as recent as last week’s bi-monthly Oliver Queen chili cookout. Jason smiles at the photo then grimaces at the memory of washing all that chili out of her hair.

A few other new ones have been peppered in from last week, Connor and Kyle in a rare moment where Kyle isn’t three galaxies away, Mia holding a bowl of chili the size of her head. He’s nearing the end of the hall close to the family room the girls use as their base camp for sleepovers when he stops dead in his tracks.

Because on the wall between a selfie of Dinah and Ollie on some beach and picture of Emiko casually flipping off her brother on Christmas morning is Jason and Roy pressed close together on a park bench, Roy’s arm slung across Jason’s shoulders light smiles on both of their faces laughing about some dumb joke Roy had made. He remembers the day, a not too hot, but not too cold spring afternoon they both had free so they took Lian to the park. Dinah had run into them on her way home and she had been immediately dragged over to the swings by Lian. Jason hadn’t even realized she had her camera on her at all.

It’s a rare photo of them, they haven’t exactly been at this very long. Jason only moved in three months ago after nearly two years of subtle dating. Dating as superheroes is hard enough, add in that one half of them is often wanted by any number of federal agencies at any given moment and the other half is raising a four-year-old daughter on his own and it gets even more complicated. So they’ve taken their time, keeping things quiet for as long as they could even though it killed Roy not to shout it from the rooftops. The nature of keeping it slow and quiet meant photos hadn’t been a priority.

Add in that Jason habitually shies from cameras constantly and it’s likely this is maybe only the second or third photo of them out of costume and not tacked up on wanted board somewhere that’s ever been taken. It’s definitely the first one that’s made it onto the Queen family wall.

He feels weirdly honored. He knows they’ve accepted him, Ollie somewhat reluctantly and the others nearly without hesitation, but he didn’t think he was considered family, family. Not the kind that made it onto the coveted family walls, more like the kind that came to events and treated their family member with love and respect so he was welcome, but never quite fully in. Jason was content with that, as long as he and Oliver could have civil conversations and he got to keep loving Roy and Lian without any interference he was perfectly happy.

This though. This is beyond that. This he never expected.

“Hey, you’re here!” Dinah says pulling his eyes away from the photo. She makes her way down the hall towards him, looking far more put together than any woman who hosted a sleepover with a four-year-old the night before should at 8:30 in the morning.

She pulls him in for a quick hug and then leans against the wall beside the photo.

“You like it?” she asks with a smile. He nods still kind of shocked it’s even there in the first place. “You’re a hard one to get pictures of,” she says with a chuckle.

She taps lightly at the glass frame. “I never quite manage to get your face in one, it’s like no matter how stealthy I am you know I’ve got that camera pointed your way. Creature of bat habit, I guess, huh?”

Jason shrugs, “Something like that yeah.”

“When I was going through my camera roll and spotted that one, I quite literally shouted with joy, Ollie thought I was watching a Blades game,” she laughs with a fond shake of her head. “You were the only member of the family not on the wall, even Jade has one with Lian and she never comes to the chili cookouts.”

Jason’s heart skips at beat at the word family a no doubt shocked look on his face that Dinah, always perceptive Dinah catches onto immediately.

“Oh, Jason,” she says reaching out a hand to comfortingly rest on his arm. “That’s another bat habit. Of course you’re family.”

Jason’s not one for crying and he’s definitely not one for vulnerability in front of anyone that isn’t Roy, but for a moment he feels like he might just break those rules of his in front of Dinah. He shakes it off quickly putting his hand on top of Dinah’s for one quick squeeze.

“It’s a good picture,” he says. “You should print a copy for us, Roy’s always complaining that the best photos he has of me are crime scene pictures.”

Dinah laughs and the emotional tension Jason hadn’t quite intended for dissipates just as he hoped it would.

“I’ll get it done and give it to you guys at dinner next week,” she says as she walks around him and gestures to the door at the far end of the hall. “Let’s go get the princess so you can take her home.”

Jason nods looking back at the photo one last time a small smile on his lips before he follows after Dinah to get Lian, before he follows his family.

[thebookreader12345]

On the Loose - Chapter One

Note: For future references, H/C means hair color, E/C means eye color, H/T means height

Chapter Two   Chapter Three   Chapter Four   Chapter Five

If you’d have told me when I was younger that I would grow up to become a police officer, I would have laughed in your face. And if you would have mentioned the fact that I also made Detective, I would have doubled over in laughter. Life has a funny way of working out sometimes, because that’s exactly what happened. Right after college, I decided to enter the Police Academy, and I fought like hell to stay at the top of my class, which was full of men, by the way. After graduating from the academy, I was assigned a district and became a patrol officer, where I spent the next 2 years. 

And then, something extraordinary happened. I was sent to go undercover to break a sex trafficking ring, and I did amazing. I broke the ring, and because of that, I was meritoriously promoted to Detective. There was something else, though. I was shot on the job, and getting shot on the job, well, it’s not as bad as people may think. When you get shot, you basically get your pick of units. I didn’t even have to think twice about where I wanted to be: Intelligence. It was the most elite unit in Chicago, and it was a big dream of mine to work there. When Sergeant Hank Voight heard of my request, he dug into my record, and he came to a decision. I would be joining Intelligence. That all happened 5 years ago. And now, here I was, with the most amazing boyfriend ever, Jay Halstead, who I had been dating for just over a year now, and the best unit/family ever.

I woke up to my alarm clock blaring in my ear. At first, I thought I’d just let it keep going off because I didn’t want to move from my comfortable spot underneath my blanket. But the loud beeping noise soon became annoying, so I had to give in. I groaned and shoved my blanket off of me before reaching over to my nightstand and pressing the off button of the alarm clock. After dragging myself out of bed, I started my morning routine. Once I was showered and everything, I ate a quick breakfast, and then grabbed my water bottle which I filled with ice cold water. I gathered all of my things, minus my keys, and headed out the front door to my apartment. And there, at the front of my building, leaning against the driver’s side door of his truck, was my boyfriend.

“Hey, handsome,” I greet and lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Morning,” Jay replied and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. 

“Jay,” I whined as he kissed my neck. “As much as I love this, we have work. If we’re late, Voight will be mad at us. And no offense, but I don’t feel like being lectured today.

Jay laughed and pressed one last kiss to my face before pulling away from me. “All right. I’m done. You ready to get going?”

“Yeah. Lets go,” I say and walk around to the other side of truck. With one swift movement, I had opened the door and climbed into the seat, setting my satchel down by my feet and my water bottle in the cup holder to my left. The drive to the district only took about 10 minutes, and soon, Jay parked in the parking lot. I got out of the car and squinted as the sun hit me in the face. Man it was hot out. Jay laced his hand with mine as we entered the district and greeted everyone who nodded our way. When we got upstairs, Kevin’s back was facing me, and I came up with a brilliant idea. I set my things down on my desk quietly, and then I ran and jumped on his back.

“Whoa, Y/N. Give me a little warning next time,” Kevin warned playfully.

“Morning, Kevin,” I cheer as he hoisted me up higher onto his back to keep me from falling. 

“Good morning to you too,” Kevin stated as Hailey emerged from the break room.

“Do I even want to know what’s going on here?” Hailey questioned.

“Kevin is starting a free piggyback ride service,” I claim and unclasp my legs from around Kevin’s waist so that I could get down. “Who’s next?”

“Me!” Kim shouted and hopped onto Kevin’s back.

“Y/N, I’m going to get you back for this,” Kevin said.

“Uh huh,” I hum and head to my desk, which was right behind Hailey’s. “Morning, Hails.”

“Morning. You sure are happy today,” Hailey noted.

I shrugged and took a sip of my water. “I feel like today is going to be a good day.”

“Did you have sex with Jay last night? You’re usually like this the morning after you have sex with Jay,” Hailey pointed out.

I laughed. “Okay, yes, I do act like this mornings after I have sex with Jay, but that’s not the case this time. I genuinely feel like we’re going to have a great day.”

“Hailey, you want a ride before I close up shop?” Kevin joked as Kim climbed down from his back.

“Uh, no. I think I’m good,” Hailey replied.

“All right. Y/N, if you weren’t my partner, and I didn’t love you to death, I’d kill you right about now,” Kevin informed me.

“You could do that, but then who would be your partner in crime and have stakeout jokes with you?” I question.

“Good point. You get to live. For now,” Kevin spoke.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” I mutter and turn around to face my desk. Just as I did, Adam bounded up the stairs and into the bullpen.

“Uh, guys? I just got a call from Voight. We’ve got a case,” Adam announced.

“I thought today was going to be a good day?” Hailey asked me as I stood up.

“Hey, it still can be. Maybe we solve this case in one day. You never know,” I tell her.

“Come on, partner. Lets go,” Kevin said. 

“I’m right behind you, Kev,” I declare and follow him out of the building. Kevin started the car as soon as we got situated in our seats and blasted the air. I wished I had brought my water bottle along for the ride, but it was back at the district. “Man it’s hot in Chicago.”

Kevin chuckled softly. “I mean, at least it’s not freezing cold. I’d rather be hot than cold.”

“Really?” I question. “I’m the opposite. I’d rather be cold than hot.”

“Huh. I guess you learn new things every day,” Kevin spoke. The drive to the crime scene didn’t take too long, and Kevin and I were the first 2 to arrive out of the unit, except for Voight, who was probably inside of the warehouse already.

“Hey. Were you first on the scene?” I ask the officer who was standing inside of the taped off scene. Upon closer inspection, I saw that his nametag read Diaz. 

“Yeah,” Officer Diaz replied.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Kevin questioned as Officer Diaz led us towards the abandoned warehouse.

“I got a call over the zone that there was screaming coming from over this way, and I was close by so I headed right over. When I got here, it was pretty quiet, so my partner and I checked the perimeter real quick before heading inside. We swept the first floor, which was clear, and when we got to the basement, we found a body. It was a woman, late 20′s maybe. I didn’t really get a good look at her because I immediately called it in,” Officer Diaz explained.

“You didn’t check to see if the woman was alive?” I ask.

“I didn’t have to. She had to have at least 20 stab wounds on her. There was no way she was alive when we got here,” Officer Diaz responded.

“All right. Thank you,” Kevin told the officer, who then directed us towards the stairs on the right side of the building. Kevin and I descended the stairs to find the actual scene of the crime, and crime scene investigators were examining every inch of the room. My eyes scanned the room, taking in everything I saw, and that’s when I saw the body. The woman was laying face down in a puddle of blood, her arms and legs spread out around her body. “Hey Y/N, she kind of looks like you,” Kevin joked. As we got closer to the body, one of the crime scene investigators turned the body over to count how many stab wounds there were, and I caught sight of the victim’s eyes. They were a brilliant E/C, just like mine. And, along with the H/C hair, the victim looked very similar to me. 

“It’s just a coincidence, Kev,” I inform my partner. Little did I know that it wasn’t a coincidence. This victim had been chosen on purpose, and she had been chosen because she looked like me.

.....................................

“What do we got?” Voight asked and exited his office.

“Our victim’s name is Terra Bretton. She’s 29 years old, owns a bakery in Bridgeport. We did a little digging, but she’s got no record. She’s clean, Sarge,” I say.

“Well what the hell was she doing in that warehouse?” Voight questioned.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Kim and Ruz are trying to find cameras or PODS along that street as we speak,” Jay responded.

“Okay. That’s a good start. Keep digging,” Voight told us. As Voight walked back into his office, I sighed and leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Hey. You okay?” Jay asked me.

“Uh, yeah. I’m good. It’s just, Kevin pointed out that the victim looked a lot like me. I guess I’m just a little weirded out by that,” I answer.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t worry. It’s just a coincidence,” Jay exclaimed.

“Uh, guys,” Hailey spoke and walked up the stairs. “There’s another crime scene. And I think you need to see it.” Jay and I got to the crime scene as fast as we could. Everyone else from the unit joined us there, and we walked into the house to see that the body was very similar to the first. And when I say similar, I mean the woman was stabbed multiple times. There was also one more thing. Once again, the victim looked exactly like me.

“Is one of you Detective L/N?” an officer asked and entered the room we were in.

“That’s me,” I say and raise my hand.

“This was found near the victim’s body. It’s addressed to you,” the officer confessed and handed me the folded up piece of paper before walking away.

“What’s it say?” Kim asked. I trembled as I unfolded the paper, and then began to read what was written on it out loud.

“If you’re reading this, Detective L/N, then it means you’ve just found the second body. The second women I killed this week. You didn’t think it was coincidence that both women looked like you, did ya? You ruined my life, and now, I’m going to ruin yours. I’d watch out if I were you. Bad things are about to come your way.

From, yours truly.”

______________________

Tag List:

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[ddarker-dreams]

How would the team react to SR reader taking them to a trip back to their home? For instance, I'm from NY, so I would definitely take them or M&M world or something fun 😊.

NONNIE THIS IS SO CUTE !! SR Reader would want to take everyone to an area she thinks they’d like!! It’d be a very chaotic trip. Maybe an Everyone Lives AU type of special. Lemme go over my thoughts...

If you’re travelling with Giorno, you’re gonna be travelling in style. Man is packing the big bucks. He just tells you to bring him wherever you want. Might be a bit disappointed that the others are tagging along at first, but still has plans to get alone time with you :) he’s the least likely to want to go anywhere specific. He’s gonna be harshly judging any of the food you recommend, but doesn’t ever tell you lmao. Just flashes you a charming smile and says it’s wonderful while going on an internal Gordon Ramsey monologue over the flavors and presentation. He’d secretly like places that specialize in sweets, and should you catch onto this, would make feeble attempts at dismissing it. Despite all the fancy food he can afford, he has a soft spot for smores you made for him!! Thought it was the cutest thing ever :’)))) especially when you were blowing on the marshmallows to set the fire off. The moment was ruined by Narancia mourning his marshmallow that fell into the fire...  

Mista is going to want to visit Hollywood 100%. This man is a cinema addict and nothing can convince me otherwise. He’s going to be finding areas that appeared in his favorite movies and dragging you (and maybe a few other unlucky people, probably Fugo) along for the ride. Sex Pistols are gonna embarrass him by reenacting his favorite scenes lmao. He’d want to go to Griffith’s Observatory to reminiscence about Rebel Without a Cause and won’t shut up about the movie the entire time. Mista fits in with the lackadaisical air of LA a little too perfectly, and you keep telling him to change out of his sweater because it’s gonna be hot. But he doesn’t. Mista is gonna be so tilted when he finds out his favorite Clint Eastwood doesn’t have a star on the Walk of Fame... you didn’t have the heart to tell him at first. He’s also sad that he can’t legally drink in the states LMAOO

“[First], so let me get this straight. I can carry my pistol around openly here, but I can’t legally drink?” 

“Couldn’t have explained it better myself, Mista.” 

Narancia is another person who would be excited to visit areas in California the most. He’s more into music, so he’s going to want to tour all the big studios (and gets bored when he doesn’t spot any celebrities like he expected). Also the most likely to be disappointed with California prices. When you explain to him how much he needs to pay in USD for a meal he’s gonna gape at you like you have two heads. 

“W-what? That much for a burger and fries? This has to be a crime! Bucciarati, come talk some sense into this guy!” 

“Narancia, no, don’t beat up the Americans--” 

He’d also be interested in New York!! Specifically in areas that hold cultural significance for hip hop like the Bronx. He thinks it’s the coolest thing ever. Might stand out a little too much but it’s okay he’s having fun. Narancia would be suffering on the east coast, since a lot of people there are prickly. If anyone bumps into him in New York, you’re gonna have to deescalate lmao. He’d also want to visit places like Hershey Park, Six Flags, etc... you’re gonna have to explain to him that they’re all very far apart. Narancia wants to drag you on rollercoasters, god help your soul ... (if you refuse, he’ll settle on Mista joining him. Emphasis on settle). You might need to get him a shirt that says “If lost, return to [First]” for him, and a “I’m [First]” for yourself. 

Trish is another one from the group who is most interested in visiting New York. She fits in perfectly, unlike Narancia. She can keep up with the walking speed there too lmao. Trish is gonna drag you into countless fashion stores, and take selfies with you at Times Square. If anyone tries to cat call her... well, she’s gonna have you defending her honor. Trish is gonna want to go to Tiffany’s, and Radio City music hall to see a concert. She actually speaks English pretty well! She has a cute little accent on some words, but when you tell her that, she gives you a >:( look. Anyways you’d both be looking like models next to one another. A few people have come up to Trish, asking if they’ve seen her in magazines or something... smh... it’s your job to flirt with her so you shoo them off in English >:) 

God... Bruno would be so adorable. He wants to explore the beaches!! When you’re asking where he wants to go, he’ll mention these places. The Outer Banks, Ocean City (until you tell him he’s gonna be greatly disappointed if you go there), Honolulu, and the Santa Monica beaches. He likes sitting on the piers and feeling the ocean breeze, and trying the boardwalk food!! He thrives the most in Southern states since he likes the warmer places. 

The state I see him liking the most should he visit is Maryland. He’d be prancing around the inner harbor, enjoying all the outdoor cafes and feasting on seafood. Just be sure to teach him how to eat crabs properly :’) the gang eating crabs is a mess. The waiter brings wooden hammers, and Narancia starts SMACKING the FUCK out of that steamed crab. You have to explain to him it’s not meant to be used like that... Mista tries using it like a judge’s gavel to make you laugh. Fugo and Abbacchio are leaving the table so as not to associate with them... 

Fugo is gonna be embarrassed by everyone else’s shenangins. He fits in the frigid temperament a lot of East Coasters have. He’d be the most interested in visiting Boston for its historical importance, and touring the various colleges there. He prefers Boston over New York and LA, he’s a bit of a snob... is gonna be internally screaming over the stupidly complicated way of getting around. Why is the train system here so archaic?? Who designed this?? He wants to have a word with them. Fugo isn’t big on city life though, so he might want to visit somewhere more rural. Perhaps... Florida... ahaha... jk... unless? 

Abbacchio is going to want to visit New Orleans and nothing can convince me otherwise. I headcanon that he’s a big fan of jazz. So he’ll be hanging out in notable jazz clubs, sipping on fine wine, enjoying the music with you. He appreciates how the music transcends language. Especially since he feels weird constantly badgering you or Fugo, the best English speakers, to translate stuff for him. He might be a little bit smug that he’s able to drink alcohol unlike Mista, who is still greatly offended by not being able to drink. 

[izzielizzie]

Footnotes in the Story of Your Life

Nancy Drew never wanted to move from everything she knew in New York to an unwelcoming town in Maine, and she secretly refuses to enjoy her upcoming final year of high school, but that might not even happen when she and four Horseshoe Bay natives - Bess Marvin the socialite, Ace the stoic son of a single mother, George Fan the town foster child/screw up, and Ned Nickerson HBPD’s favorite ex-con - are accused of attempted murder. Nancy’s startled - when she said she wanted something interesting to happen she didn’t mean this - but soon she starts to notice that not everything is as it seems here (AU).

Title from “Tolerate It” by Taylor Swift

Nancy’s mother finds her sitting on her bed on the first day of summer with a framed photograph in her hands. Kate Drew softens at the sight of her daughter, her usually perfect posture long forgotten as she wilts into the bed.

“Nance,” she says quietly, and Nancy instantly looks up, her face crumpling. Kate crosses the bare room to sit next to her only daughter, wrapping a secure arm around her shoulder. “Moving must be hard, huh?” For the past month, the family of three had been packing up their New York home in River Heights, loading things into trucks as their friends came by with endless casseroles and ceramic dishes they didn’t know what to do with. Nancy, as social as her mother before her, had drawn into herself more and more as she made her goodbyes. 

“Liven up Nance,” Carson, Kate’s husband and Nancy’s father had said not too long ago as they ate the tuna casserole Helen Coring - Nancy’s best friend - had brought earlier that day as they put the contents of Nancy’s room into a U Haul truck. “We’re moving to River Heights Drive. Not that much of a change, right?”

Nancy had spent the rest of the night glaring at her father, resenting his audacity, and Kate had taken over with the reassurances. 

“Yeah. I just hate the idea that I’m missing senior year.”

“Well, you’re not missing it per say. You’re still going to school here.”

Nancy looks at the picture of her, Helen, and another friend named Burt at the junior prom, their arms around each other. Nancy sighs. She considers launching into a tirade about how New York and Maine are very different places and no she is missing school, the important parts at least, but she knows that this move is hard on her mother too, so she refrains. “I guess so,” she says, reluctantly putting the picture on the stand she had placed next to her bed. 

Kate kisses the top of Nancy’s head. “Good. Now why don’t you explore and I’ll see what casserole I can heat up.”

“Ugh Mom,” Nancy says, already grinning as she pulls her blue raincoat from one of the boxes on the floor in front of her.

 Nancy’s wanderings lead her to a small seafood restaurant with a great view of the Atlantic. Nancy’s not used to being this close to large bodies of water, and it’s making her a little nauseous. Her father, a native of Boston, assures her that she’ll get over the salt air smell, but Nancy’s not so sure. 

She looks up at the claw shaped sign, creaking eerily on its pole. The Bayside Claw Nancy reads. What a fitting name. And a fitting sign. Nancy’s about to turn and keep walking, since she’s not a big seafood person, but she sees a handful of well dressed men enter the restaurant. Nancy’s spent enough time in New York City to know when a well dressed person is just fashion conscious, or when they’re rich and up to something. These men are definitely the latter. Nancy pauses for a few moments to make sure that the men have had the time to settle, since she locked eyes with a young man with sandy blond hair and the beginnings of a goatee, and she doesn’t want him to think she’s following him.

Nancy is an unnecessarily paranoid person. 

She pushes through the doors of the restaurant and is nearly mowed over by a person the moment she steps into the dining area. “Whoah, I’m sorry,” she says, stepping back in time to see a woman with long black hair and an oversized cardigan stagger backwards, clearly discombobulated by well… everything. 

“Ugh, Victoria,” A girl about Nancy’s age in a green uniform grumbles. She catches sight of Nancy. “Sorry about that ma’am,” the waitress says, reaching down to haul the woman (presumably Victoria) off the ground. The waitress pushes Victoria out of the door that’s still held open by Nancy. “Go be drunk somewhere else!” The waitress - whose name tag reads George - turns to Nancy. “Can I help you?” 

Nancy freezes, not quite sure why to say she’s here now that she’s been spotted by this rather vocal waitress when she’s saved by another waitress, this time in yellow. 

“George, Mr. Hudson wants us to give his wife food,” the waitress says in a posh British accent. She’s holding a wobbly plate of fish and salad in one hand. 

George turns from Nancy to the new waitress, annoyance crossing her face. “Well what do you want me to do? Roll it onto a cart for her? Go bring it outside!”

“Mr. Hudson left his wife outside?” Nancy asks, without thinking. 

“Yeah, that fellow over there,” the waitress in yellow points to the sandy haired man Nancy had tailed into here. 

“And that fellow is both incredibly rich and able to give us a boost and my foster dad so maybe you should shut up and give Tiffany her food,” George snaps. Both Bess and Nancy flush. 

“Sorry,” Bess mumbles, stepping away and around Nancy to slip through the front door. Nancy’s a little jostled when Bess passes her, and she spins a little, turning towards the kitchen. She catches sight of a young man in a colorful Hawaiian shirt ringing the bell to signify an order. They lock eyes - ice blue on sky - and Nancy feels a wave of déjà vu pass over her, but she shakes it off. She turns back to George, who’s still looking at her, waiting for Nancy to say something. 

Finally, Nancy makes up her mind. If she’s going to be stuck in this tiny town she might as well do something to occupy her time. “Are you hiring?”

George looks her over. “Are you new here?”

Oh. So it’s that kind of tiny town. “Yes, my family just moved here.”

George nods. “Right. Well, we could always use a new waitress. We had one leave for college and Bess isn’t the brightest so…” George trails off, cocking her head. “Do you hear that?”

Both Nancy and George tilt their heads towards the front door of the restaurant, where they can hear muffled shouting. Both girls look at each other for a moment before Nancy spins and pushes the door open. George is hot on her heels, and after a few moments, a third pair of feet joins them. Nancy turns to see shaggy blond hair under a black cap and knows that it’s the boy from behind the counter.

Nancy stops suddenly when she sees Bess standing over a body, shock on her face. “Omph,” Nancy says as both George and the other guy come barreling into her. She stumbles, and George catches her around the waist. Nancy opens her mouth to ask the very obvious question hanging in the air- 

“Bess? What happened?” a decidedly male voice asks, taking the words straight from Nancy’s mouth. She looks up to see a tall boy with cocoa skin exiting a blue truck parked a foot behind Bess, the body, and the sleek car looming over the person Nancy can only assume is Mrs. Hudson. 

A strangled cry escapes George, and she rushes forward, dropping to her knees next to the woman. “Help her!” George says, looking up at the four of them as she lifts Mrs. Hudson’s head to rest on her knees. She cradles it in her hands like an injured bird. 

“What happened?” the Hawaiian shirt boy repeats. Bess is sobbing now. 

“I turned to go back to the restaurant and all of a sudden she cried out and fell! I don’t know!” 

Nancy, still not quite sure what in the world is happening, crouches next to George and Mrs. Hudson. She lifts one of Mrs. Hudson’s hands, feeling her wrist for a pulse. 

“She’s not dead,” she says as sirens come wailing towards them.

Fifteen minutes later, Nancy, Bess, George, and the two boys are sitting in the hospital waiting room with Mr. Hudson, George leaning against Mr. Hudson’s shoulder.

“The Hudsons have been her foster parents for the longest out of any of her homes,” Bess says, leaning over to whisper in Nancy’s ear. Nancy smiles at her. “I remember what it’s like being new. I only moved in with my aunt here in Horseshoe Bay last month. I used to live in London. I’m Bess by the way.”

“Nancy,” Nancy says.

“Welcome. Where did you live before?”

“New York.”

“City?”

“State.”

“Oh that’s nice. I love the city, did you go often?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Nancy says as the waiting room doors swing open. She’s startled to see a man in a uniform striding towards their little group. He’s probably in his thirty or forties, and he’s got a no nonsense look on his face. 

“Are you the people found at the scene of the crime?” he asks in lieu of greeting. 

“Woah, woah, crime?” Mr. Hudson asks, standing up, startling George, who had been dozing on his shoulder. 

The officer turns to Mr. Hudson solemnly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “There was poison found in your wife’s system, Mr. Hudson, which means that someone had attempted to kill her.”

Everyone turns to Bess, except Mr. Hudson and the officers. 

Mr. Hudson stares at the officer for a moment before sinking into his seat, a look of genuine fear on his face. “Who would want to kill Tif?”

“Not me I swear!” Bess cries, latching on to Nancy’s arm. Nancy gently pries her fingers off her arm.

The officer shakes his head, ignoring the distraught waitress. “I’m not sure sir, but it’s our job to figure it out. Why is why I need to speak to these five.”

They all look at Mr. Hudson: Nancy, George, Bess, and the two boys whose names Nancy still doesn’t know. But Mr. Hudson’s face is ashen, like he’s going into shock. The officer motions at the young people. “Come along.”

The five of them look at each other uncertainly before standing and following the officer into the hall. Nancy catches sight of his badge: Chief E. O. McGinnis. 

Now, Nancy, being the daughter of a lawyer, should know her rights, and the right to remain silent is the biggest one, especially since she’s a minor, but she’s too confused and terrified to think straight. 

She’s being investigated for attempted murder. Attempted murder. God her mother’s going to kill her. 

The unlikely five line up against the wall. Chief McGinnis paces in front of them. “Alright. I’m looking at an ex-con,” he pauses in front of the guy from the truck. “The town screw up,” (this time he’s in front of George). “A city girl,” he’s in front of Bess now, who looks rather guilty in Nancy’s opinion. He moves to the fancy shirt guy standing next to Nancy. “An HBPD legacy and Nancy Drew.”

Except, that’s not what he says.

He pauses in front of Nancy, and tilts his head at her. “Who are you again?”

Nancy stares at him as the weird feeling of déjà vu hits her again. No. That’s not right. He knows who she is. 

But she doesn’t know who he is. 

Nancy feels her hands start to shake. Everything here is wrong. She should be sitting at the police station. She should know what’s happening. But she doesn’t because she’s being accused of attempted murder. 

But it shouldn’t be attempted. Nancy slides down the wall, her hands pulling at her skin where she can feel the ghost of a locket. 

My mother’s gonna kill me she thinks. But no, her mom’s dead. And Ryan isn’t George’s foster dad. He’s her dad.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t ri-

“Okay just give her space.” 

When Nancy comes to, she’s looking up into the face of the boy who had been working at the Bayside Claw. Nancy’s laying on the ground, her head against the cold tile. The boy gently slips an arm under her shoulders, helping her to sit up.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

Nancy doesn’t know the answer to that. He can tell, so he tries a different question. “What’s your name?”

“Nancy Drew,” she croaks. He smiles.

“Hi Nancy Drew. My name is Ace Hardy.”

“Hi,” Nancy mumbles back.

“And that’s Nick,” Ace says, pointing to the boy from the truck who’s hovering on the outskirts of the circle of people around her. “I hear you’ve met the girls.”

Nancy nods and Ace gently slips his other arm under her knees, lifting her up in his arms like she weighs nothing. He walks her towards the waiting room, talking as he goes. “That, Nancy, was a panic attack. Have those often?”

Nancy leans her pounding head against his muscular shoulder. “No.”

“Well, first time for everything. Got anyone we can call?”

“My dad,” she mumbles. Ace nods to Bess, who rushes forward with her phone out. Nancy recites her father’s number, and Bess puts it to her ear.

“Hello? Hi, yes, this is Bess Marvin. I’m calling about your daughter. She’s in the hospital, she had a panic attack.” Bess is quiet for a moment. “Nancy Drew, yes.” After a moment, Bess rattles off directions and hangs up. 

Ace puts Nancy down on a chair next to Mr. Hudson. Nancy looks at him sideways. She’s about to say something to him when suddenly - as if her brain has been reset or something - she forgets what she was going to say.

“Want some water Nancy?” Ace asks. Nancy smiles at the unfamiliar boy. 

“Yes, please,” she says. He stands and heads to the water cooler, Bess taking his spot. “What did the officer mean by Ace is a legacy?”

“Oh, that,” Bess says sadly. “Ace’s father was a Captain on the police force. He was in a chase once when Ace was a child. His car got hit, and he didn’t make it.”

“That’s so sad,” Nancy says. 

“I know,” Bess agrees. “His mother is all he has. She’s a librarian, but she doesn’t make a lot of money. They just get by with her salary and the pension from the state. That’s why Ace turned down MIT. To work at The Claw.”

“That must be so hard,” Nancy says. She can’t imagine giving up her dream of going to Columbia. 

“It is,” Bess agrees as the doors to the waiting room are pushed open. Nancy sees her father and mother being trailed by an annoyed McGinnis.

“You can’t just take a suspect home! She has to be fingerprinted! She has to give her statement!”

Carson turns on McGinnis. “Excuse me, but my daughter is a minor and she’s had a panic attack.”

“We’re taking her,” Kate adds. She spots Nancy and rushes to her, crouching to put her hands on either side of her daughter’s face. “Nancy, baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Okay, we’re taking you home, don’t worry, Mom’s here.”

It’s a simple statement, and normally Nancy would complain that it makes her sound like a child, but it relaxes her nonetheless. She slumps into her mom, letting the exhaustion and confusion sink over her. 

Kate runs her fingers through her red hair as Carson argues with McGinnis, who finally relents. 

“Fine, fine, you all can go if Drew is going. But I expect you back at the station at eight am sharp.”

Nancy is pulled to her feet by her mother, and before she moves, she puts a hand on Mr. Hudson’s shoulder. “Your wife will get better sir,” she says. Mr. Hudson puts his hand over hers. 

“Thanks.”

Nancy waves goodbye to everyone else before following her parents. As she falls asleep in the back seat of her dad’s car, all she can think is that something about this entire night is off.