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hollandorks · 2 years

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shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter two

summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story

a/n: Yay time for another chapter! Going to try my hardest to stick to posting twice per week--I have about 8 more chapters written so far (still only 1/3 of the way through the movie, oops) so we should be good for a while! Once I finish writing the whole thing, I’ll probably post more frequently! That being said, I’m on vacation next week and I’m not sure of the internet situation! Ch 3 will be posted before I leave though!

If you feel like supporting me further, donate to my ko-fi! You can get either a teaser for the next chapter (for lower donation amounts) or the entire next chapter (higher donation amounts). Find more info and the link to my ko-fi here!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2645

“Thank you, Gordon. I mean it.”

He muttered something sarcastic about being grateful under his breath, but she was already gone.

It was still raining when Halloween dawned.

“This reminds me of when we first met,” y/n mused as they ate a late dinner on Halloween night. “You need to be extra careful tonight. There’ll be so many teenagers who could push you off of a roof.”

Bruce rolled his eyes.

She was doing her best to try to distract him. He had something on his mind, and she knew it, but she wasn’t really sure how to help. They’d already argued briefly about her going out with him–it was too dangerous, according to him, but according to her there was too much potential for him to get hurt. She wanted to help. She needed to help. He couldn’t be everywhere.

She wasn’t sure she had won the argument, but he had at least let it drop.

She’d let it drop too, because the guilt of lying to him was still eating her alive. He didn’t know that she was already helping him. And she wanted to keep it that way. To keep him safe. To keep him from being distracted. To keep him from being pulled in too many directions at once.

“Just think,” she continued lightly, “You might not have a cute girl to save you this time. Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, etcetera.”

“Are you ever going to let me live that down?” Bruce asked dryly as he rinsed off his plate.

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. She stepped up behind him and rested her forehead against the warm spot between his shoulder blades. He huffed a laugh. They stayed like that for a few minutes. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself closer. “Please be careful. I mean it. Call me the second you need help.”

“I will,” he said. He rested his hands over hers. “Please–don’t sneak out. Just–let me know. Alright?”

She laughed, face still pressed into his muscular back. “Okay. But I can’t promise that I won’t leave. You can’t be everywhere. And don’t even think of hiding the Batmobile keys again. I had copies made.”

He stiffened but didn’t argue the point.

He finally turned around in her arms. She nestled closer and kissed him.

“Please be careful,” she whispered.

“I will. I love you.” He kissed her again, and then he was gone.

She finished cleaning up dinner to distract herself. She had a bad feeling she couldn’t exactly place. The growing crime despite all they’d done, despite all Gordon and cops like him had done, was worrisome. Gotham was turning on itself, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like what that meant for Bruce. For Batman.

Maybe she could wait it out at the restaurant, pack her gear up just in case Bruce needed her.

She was downstairs before she had fully decided. She picked up the extra earpiece he always left for her.

“Bruce?” she asked softly as she put it in, grabbed her gear, and went back up the elevator. She couldn’t take the Batmobile to the restaurant, as much as she wanted to. Regular cars only, unfortunately. She had conceded a few months into their relationship and let him buy her a car. To compromise, it had been a used car, because she didn’t need him blowing money on her. Plus, he had six other cars already that for some reason he wasn’t happy with her picking from. He wanted to buy her one.

His response was instantaneous. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just–I was going to go to the GP for a bit. Let me know if you need me.”

He didn’t respond–probably busy already, she mused.

He’d changed the earpieces a bit in the past year. He had something in his suit now that acted kind of like a bluetooth connection. He could connect to it with the push of a button and disconnect just as easily. That way they could both be wearing the earpieces without getting too distracted by constant noise. It made it a little easier to watch him go out each night.

As y/n drove through the rain into the city, her body thrummed. She was almost itching for a fight. She understood exactly why Bruce did what he did. Not only to keep the city safer, but because it was…exhilarating.

She made herself drive straight to the Gotham Project no matter how badly she wanted to stop and put her suit on. Just this once, she would listen to Bruce. She’d rather wait on him to need her than be out somewhere, too far to help, when the call came.

At least she had done some good already–she’d gotten the name of Derrick Smalls to Gordon, and it was only a matter of time before the man was arrested. She wished, briefly, that she’d done more than break his hand and punch him in the face, though.

At the restaurant, y/n shoved her bulky backpack into her office and locked it behind her. The Gotham Project was small, but it was hers. It was actually two buildings next to each other. One was the restaurant and kitchen itself, the other was a sort of homeless shelter and supply store her manager Bryn ran for her. It didn’t hurt that Bryn had also been formerly employed by the Iceberg Lounge while she paid her way through school.

“It’s me,” y/n called to the chef who ran things when she wasn’t around. His name was Ollie and he’d served ten years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. He was sweet, overly flirtatious, and honestly a better cook than she was. “I’m just here to check on things.”

Things had been running incredibly smoothly for six months or so. Hiring Bryn and Ollie had been the final puzzle pieces, and things had started simply…falling into place. And with the attention that Bruce’s name got her, well, they did pretty well. They helped a lot of people.

“Hey, boss lady,” Ollie called from where he flitted around the kitchen. Support staff and waiters danced around the space. Ollie currently had cat ears and a tail. Some of the other waiters had costumes, too, all simple and practical. “Busy tonight.”

“That’s great.” She meant it–the busier they were, the more people they could help. People could come and eat like it was a regular restaurant, with the option to pay it forward for someone in need. And then the less fortunate or homeless could come in and have a normal, free meal before getting any supplies they might need from next door. People sometimes took advantage of it and tried to get a free meal, but her staff had gotten pretty good at keeping the assholes at bay.

“Your cop friend is out there,” Ollie said with a flash of a smile.

Gordon came to visit on nights he worked, usually because he was in the area. She constantly tried to get him to eat for free, but he always paid for himself and the next person to come in.

Y/n thanked Ollie and pushed her way out into the dining area. It was busy. At the late hour, a lot of people were filling up before a night on the town. There were costumes everywhere.

Gordon was at his usual seat at the bar, eating a huge plate of the night’s special, carbonara.

“Hey,” y/n said as she slid into the empty seat next to him. “Can’t get enough of me?”

“I’m here for the food, not you.” But there was a hint of a smile underneath Gordon’s mustache.

She grinned. “That’s fair. Ollie’s going to have me out of a job sooner rather than later.”

“Good thing you own the place, then.” Gordon winked. His phone started ringing in his pocket.

“Good thing. I’m going to check on Bryn.” She patted Gordon’s arm. “Enjoy your meal.”

He nodded as he fumbled for his phone. He frowned at the caller ID.

She hovered for a second, overly curious. He shot her a look that said he knew she was eavesdropping, but he didn’t say anything.

“Gordon,” he answered curtly. He set his fork down. Y/n watched as Gordon’s face blanched. His mouth parted, just slightly, before he seemed to realize he was in public. “Shit, I–Shit. Okay. I’m on my way. I gotta make a quick stop first, alright? Lock it down. No, I mean it. Lock it down.”

He hung up quickly and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the countertop.

“What happened?” she asked, because from the look on Gordon’s face, it was bad.

“I–It’s not good. I can’t say anything yet. I gotta run. Thanks, kid.”

Gordon was out in a flash. Y/n quietly took the money and put it in the till, frowning. She hadn’t seen that kind of look on Gordon’s face in a long time. It must be bad, whatever it was. The bad feeling she’d been harboring all night grew worse.

She got her confirmation not fifteen minutes later when the Bat signal flared to life overhead.

It had been an utter coincidence that she’d chosen a spot with an almost perfect view of Batman’s signal. It had felt a little bit like fate, the first time she’d been in the restaurant and seen it lit.

Something churned in her gut.

Not good at all, if Gordon was calling Bruce in on it. Usually that meant something big, bad, or both.

She picked up her phone and pretended to make a call while, over the earpiece, she said, “Gordon was here and got a call. He seems freaked out.”

Bruce’s voice in her ear calmed her. “I’m on my way to him now. Are you still at the restaurant?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Stay there until I know what’s going on.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

She hated being kept out of everything. At least she could look over whatever Bruce had recorded for the night, both with the lens and within his current journal.

Bryn was packing up a care bag for an elderly lady when y/n entered the other half of the Gotham Project with her master key. This side was a little bigger. There were a couple of rows of cots, a few small stalls with showers, and a huge, heavily secured pantry. Bruce had made sure all of the security was top notch, with alerts going straight to his phone, along with hers and Alfred’s too. He even paid for around the clock security guards, which grated on her nerves sometimes. But at least no one would try to take advantage of her generosity.

Bryn was a tall Black girl that ran the place better than y/n had ever hoped. She’d only seen her around the Iceberg Lounge a few times, and hiring her had been a huge stroke of luck brought about by Lena, who had officially introduced them. Y/n had actually tried to hire Lena first, to get her out of the club, but Lena had politely declined and sent Bryn her way instead.

“How’s it looking?” y/n asked after the older lady shuffled away, back into the rain. The woman had declined one of the cots for the night.

Bryn finished writing out the details of the supplies she’d given before answering. “Pretty good. Running low on umbrellas, ponchos, and trashbags, of course. But I already placed an order and it should be here by Saturday. Which means it’ll be sunny.”

Y/n laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure it does. You know, between you and Ollie, I kind of feel useless around here these days.”

“Hey, whenever you’re bored, just let me know. I’d love extra time off.” Bryn winked to show she was joking.

“I’ll put in a word with the boss.”

At that moment, her phone buzzed. She tried not to seem too eager as she yanked it from her pocket.

“Don’t tell me–it’s your sugar daddy.” Bryn had been around in the days when y/n had first started working for Bruce, and she never let her forget it. She constantly teased her about it, about the GP’s funding, all of it. But unlike most people, Bryn didn’t mean a word of it. She adored Bruce and always gave him shit for not talking much, which y/n enjoyed to no end.

“It is,” she said, but it was from Bruce’s “work” phone, not the man himself. His name in it was simply a dark circle emoji. “Because you always have dark circles under your eyes, makeup or otherwise,” she’d joked when he’d asked about it.

Mitchell was murdered.

Y/n’s heart stopped.

The interim Mayor, Don Mitchell, Jr. The man who had replaced Mayor Williams after everything that had happened, and was currently running to be the actual mayor. The man who’d helped bring down Maroni.

Y/n cursed colorfully. If Bruce was texting, it was because he was around too many others to speak out loud comfortably. “You know, Bryn, why don’t you take off early? I’ll finish doing the inventory and help anyone else who comes in.”

“I was just about to quit due to being overworked. Damn. Maybe next week.” Bryn winked at her again. They shared a laugh.

Thankfully, she was joking. Y/n made sure her employees were happy, because she knew better than anyone what it was like to have the world’s shittiest boss. Bryn and Ollie were both training people, too, who seemed just as capable as they were. Y/n really did feel useless most of the time. She didn’t even really get to fill in for either of them much anymore.

Which probably explained the uptick in her…other nighttime activities.

After Bryn left, y/n busied herself doing what she’d promised while simultaneously checking her phone every thirty seconds. Next door, the noise of the crowd slowly died down. A couple of people came in to sleep for the night, so y/n left them and went back to her office, telling Ollie goodnight as he left. She checked in with the security team before locking herself in her office.

The hours slowly ticked by. The bad feeling in her gut grew worse.

It was almost four in the morning when Bruce finally texted again. She’d dozed off on the small couch in the office and woke with a jolt at the chirp of her phone.

The dark circle emoji greeted her. About to head out.

She was back at the Batcave within fifteen minutes.

She flipped on the news first, then the feed for Bruce’s lens.

“This isn’t good,” Bruce said in her ear a couple of minutes later.

“What is it with this city and fucking mayors?” she cursed. First Williams, now Mitchell. She hoped this Bella Real lady proved tougher than she looked, because Gotham apparently had it out for anyone in the position. So if she won the election–however that worked with her competition now dead–y/n hoped the woman spent extra on security.

“Serial killer, maybe. Sadistic at the very least, if he doesn’t kill again,” Bruce said. She could hear a clamor around him. On the screen, she watched him watch a growing crowd from a distance.

Behind her, GC1 announced breaking news.

“He left me a card,” Bruce continued as the anchors announced the death of the mayor. There would be a press conference shortly. The press conference setup was what he was watching. “To the Batman.”

Y/n’s heart stopped again. “He–for you?”

“It was a riddle. I’ll show you when I get back.”

She cursed quietly as she watched two different perspectives of the press conference as dawn rose around Gotham.

Not good. This was not good at all.

She really had a bad feeling about this. Something was brewing in Gotham, and Batman was at the center of it all.

Next Chapter

taglist:

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#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #battinson fic #the batman fic #the batman x reader #batman x reader #the batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #battinson imagine #the batman #the batman 2022 #battinson #robert pattinson #bruce wayne #shadows in the night #sitn #always forgetting tags tbh

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itbmojojoejo · 27 days

Text

CoP - A Proposal Of Sorts / Sihtric x OFC

Pairing: Sihtric x OFC (Runa)

Warnings: NOT BETA READ, BARELY EDITED. Uhhh fluff? It's definitely not angsty. Just a little conversation really.

Wordcount: 460. (teeny tiny)

Authors Note: Just a little tiny short kinda empty something, I've had the idea of a sequel for Crimes Of Passion bouncing around in my noggin' and this was going to be the opener of the series but I don't know if it will ever happen - BUT - I didn't want to leave this gathering dust in my wip folder never to be read.

Cold night air leaking through the bedroom’s single-paned window bit at Runa’s exposed skin. Sihtric was her only source of heat, lying between her legs, head resting on her chest as she idly played with his hair.

Twisting his face into her skin he mumbled incoherently, breaking their comfortable silence.

“What was that?” She asked, amused.

Sighing dramatically he propped himself up on his elbow, a smile playing on his lips, “Marry me.”

“No,” Runa laughed, shaking her head.

A crease formed between Sihtric’s brows, “No?”

“No.”

“Why not? Do you not love me?”

She scoffed, “You know I love you, but-”

Sihtric cut her off with a groan, “No, no buts,” slumping back down onto her and hiding his face.

“Yes, buts. I’m already considered my brother's burden - property even! I don’t want to do a change of ownership, it’s degrading.”

Quickly propping himself back up he frowned deeper, “You think marriage is degrading?”

“Yes! I can’t work as a married woman, I’ll be expected to become a housewife and a mother and all the shit that goes along with that.”

“First of all, you aren’t legally employed and you’re paid in cash. I refuse to believe you trust your brother enough to put your money in his bank account. Second of all, I didn’t realise you were such a feminist, that’s a dangerous thing to be.”

Runa laughed again, slapping her hands down on the mattress making Sihtric raise his eyebrows in amusement.

“I’ve killed for you but you think being a feminist is what makes me dangerous?”

Her question had him pause for a short moment.

“Ok, new argument - you’ll kill for me, but you won’t marry me?”

“How many other women can say that? I think that’s romantic.”

All signs of amusement left his eyes as he shifted from between her thighs, moving to his side of the bed and staring at the ceiling.

“That’s not romantic. That’s insanity, Runa.”

“Are you mad at me?” She asked incredulously, leaning up on her elbows to look over at him.

“I’ve just proposed and you said no!”

“I didn’t think you were being serious!”

He turned his head to look at her, his voice calmer, “Would your answer change if I said I was and got down on one knee?”

She stammered unsure of how to answer.

“Probably not,” Runa sighed.

“Yeah, I’m mad at you.”

He rolled over and turned the bedside lamp off, plunging the pair into darkness.

“Sihtric!” She laughed, tugging on his shoulder trying to turn him back.

“No, go to sleep.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You called marriage a change of ownership. You aren’t a house deed, you’re a woman.”

“Exactly. I may as well be a house deed.”

#the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric x oc #runa talk

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my-shields-are-down · 1 year

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Karaoke 🎵

#one word prompt # Chenford one shot

Congratulations Anonymous! I had two ideas pop in my head for this prompt. So you will get TWO shots for the price of one prompt.

+++++++++

#1 Because Jackson loved 90s boy bands

Lucy looks around the dive bar and instantly thinks of Jackson. “I go there to practice songs before doing them in more public spaces” he had told her the last time they had talked about karaoke. “I sing a lot of church music, r&b classics like Teddy Pendergast and Marvin Gaye. But I also come here to sing the songs, I would never sing in public - this crowd doesn’t care. They are usually knee deep into their own pain and grief they don’t hear me singing boy band songs. You know which ones are my favorites. I’ve always loved me some semi-successful boy bands.”

Lucy felt the tears begin to fall as she walked over to the song list and chose the song Jackson loved. A song that could speak to her loss of Jackson - appropriate given today was the anniversary of his death, as well as a song that could speak to her loss of Tim - he’d told her to “move on” three weeks ago. Yet here she was, covertly back in LA when everyone thought she was in Sacramento loving UC school.

She actually hated UC school, hated the premise of going deep under cover for long periods of time lying to everyone in the hopes that maybe, you’d get some intel on a crime worth sacrificing everything and everyone you loved. She didn’t want to sacrifice Tim, despite him clearly not wanting her. She missed him so much and she was beginning to realize and accept how important he had become to her.

Noah, her UC buddy, was somewhere in the dimly lit bar filming her, in her triad get up, crazy nails and make up. Filming this assignment of being one person in a sea of completely unrelated people doing something outrageous. She and Noah had been Clippers fans, in Clippers jerseys, at a Lakers game against Denver, cheering for the Clippers game they were watching on Noah’s phone while court side during the game. With their black hoodies and sunglasses, the news crews thought they were some celebrities punking an ex boyfriend of hers because they kept glaring at the Lakers bench. Mission accomplished.

Singing the a one-hit wonder from a former kinda-sorta-successful boy band member in a dive bar less than a mile from Tim’s house, where every song in the jukebox was written before 1980 should do the trick for her as well.

What she didn’t know was that Tim was in the bar, hunched over his 3rd whiskey trying to fill the void left by Lucy. Tim was at this bar because he had heard Jackson mention it to Lucy and if he got too drunk, he could easily walk home. Yes, ok, Tim totally eavesdropped their conversation and he came here to drown his sorrows and listen to some surprisingly great singers practice. Tonight had been too quiet. Too many of his thoughts festered in his gut.

Normally, there were songs to distract him, but tonight he just missed her. Lost in his thoughts and whiskey, Tim didn’t notice the hooded couple enter the bar. He didn’t notice the guy next to him discretely filming the girl now stepping up to the microphone. But his awareness clocked on, and Tim clocked in, cop eyes fully aware, when she spoke and then began to sing.

“I’m Sava. Tonight I sing for Jackson… and Jake. The two great men I’m missing and longing for tonight. Jackson - this one is for you.”

The first notes of melancholy from the sad song began to play, and as Tim watches out of the corner of his eye, the woman who clearly is not Lucy begins to sing.

Tim doesn’t recognize the song but is locked onto the singer… the voice.. he knows that voice…He flashes back to the aborted American Idol audition….despite what he told Lucy, he had heard her and had been mesmerized. Something in her tone or timbre called to him and locked him in place. And this singer sounded the same. The exact same.

Tim tuned back into the song during the bridge and felt the heartache and imagined it was Lucy, longing for him. And the pain eased slightly.

“Falling faster, barely breathing, give me something to believe in, tell me it’s not all in my head

Take what’s left of this man, make me whole once again..

Cause I want you and I feel you, crawling underneath my skin

Like a hunger, like a burning, to find a place I’ve never been

Now I’m broken and I’m fading, I am half the man I thought I would be

You can have all that’s left, Yeah yeah yeah, what’s left of me..”

And then, moments later, the song ends to a surprising smattering of applause and the grungy guy next to Tim ambles forward, wraps his arm around Sava and they go, leaving Tim alone with his whiskey, longing in the dark.

#chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #the rookie #tim x lucy #i love them #i'm in chenford withdrawal #one word gets you one shot #karaoke #version 1 of 2 #what’s left of me - nick lachey #is the hiatus over yet

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cinewhore · 1 year

Text

The Take Over - chapter two

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!reader

Rating: mature

word count: 2.5k

read the first chapter

warnings: mentions of body horror - peeling skin, sticking fingers down someone’s mouth, general angst

Summary: You investigate the body in Danny’s house and pay a visit to an old friend.

A/N: This is an Invasion of the Body Snatchers AU. You don’t need to watch the film to understand what’s going on. Credit to the gif maker(s). No beta.

You regard the body with immense disgust and a slight intrigue. You were one hundred percent sure that Danny had called to fuck you, yapping your ear off about a body in his house that happened to look like him. Didn’t seem at all possible. Until you dragged Marcus out of the house with you, all the way to Danny’s and Sydney’s place, just to start at this thing on his floor.

“So, can you tell me what it is?” Danny prompts, scratching at his face. You frown, cocking a head toward him.

“I’m a fucking doctor, not a forensic expert.”

Danny shrugs. “Same thing, isn’t it?”

“Is it going to kill us?” Sydney rambles on, body shaking nonstop.

You breathe out slowly through your nose, pinching the bridge of it with two fingers. Marcus reads your gesture clearly, grabbing Sydney lightly by the elbow.

“Let’s go make some tea, that should help us calm down. Give them some room to work.”

Sydney agrees and follows Marcus to the kitchen. You shed your coat, pushing the coffee table back to create something semblance of a workspace. The body looked like Danny but there was no indication of it having any sort of sentience.

“Was it always lying here?”

“As far as I know. Sydney got up to get some water and then I heard her scream. Came running with the fucking bat and she’s cowering in the corner, pointing at this.” Danny lowers himself down into a squat. “I can’t believe this. It’s like a wax figure.”

An idea sparks.

“Dan, get me a paper and some ink, please.”

It takes a moment to find loose ink but Danny returns with the items faithfully, catching onto your scheme. He’s careful as he lifts the arm of the body, observing as you wet the fingertips, pressing them down on the paper.

“Huh, no fingerprints.”

“Freaky.” Then, “what does that mean?”

“If you ever really wanted to leave no traces, you’d burn your fingertips. Old school but it’ll do the trick. Unless, there were no fingertips to burn.”

Sydney and Marcus return, Sydney more at peace. Marcus offers you a cup of tea but you deny it, too keyed up to get distracted. To be honest, your stomach had been doing flips since you had gotten the phone call and you didn’t plan on vomiting anytime soon.

“What do we know so far?” Marcus asks you.

“I don’t know.”

You didn’t like giving that answer but it was the truth. Quickly glancing at Sydney, you change your tone.

“I don’t think it’ll cause any harm, though. At most it seems that it's still growing.”

“Can you move it?” Danny pipes up, holding the cup near his mouth to take a sip.

“I wouldn’t want to, im not sure if this is an active crime scene I’m fucking with and i don’t think the cops will be appreciative of me tampering with evidence.”

“The cops?” Sydney tightens the robe around her body. “Why would you call the cops? They’ll take one look at this and send us straight to the mental institute, I'm sure of it.”

Your annoyance flairs. “Well what else am I supposed to do? Listen, here’s what’s going to happen: my husband and I are going to go back home. You two are gonna sit here and monitor it, see if anything changes. If it does, call the cops. If it doesn’t, call the morgue.”

“So I just call the hospital and tell them that I have a dead body in my living room that looks like me but isn’t? C’mon, there has to be another way we can handle this.”

You glance at Marcus then back at Danny.

“Fine. Move it someplace more isolated but where you can keep a good look at it. If it wakes up or moves, call me or Marcus. We’ll deal with it, all of us, together.”

Sleeping didn’t come easy afterwards. You popped a few melatonins against Marcus’s judgment, not caring about the time but just wanting a solid sleep. You slip into unconsciousness an hour later, Marcus curled up near your back. You awake a little later, absolutely still in the throws of the heavy weight of slumber. It takes you a minute but you drag yourself out of the bed, your bladder screaming for attention. Trudging to the bathroom, you stop when you notice a light on in the kitchen downstairs.

You hadn’t remembered leaving a light on and even though it was out of your eyesight, the thought of a light being on made your teeth rattle. Taking it step by step, you make your way down the stairs, rubbing your eyes with the hope that it would make you more alert. For all you know there could be a thief in the house and you’d have no willpower to stop them in this state.

You halt in your steps, eyebrows drawing tight together upon noticing Marcus’s figure on the couch. He was asleep, some book long forgotten in his lap. You open your mouth to wake him but no sound comes out. Out of the corner of your eye, you detect a slight hint of movement. A figure emerges from the darkness of the adjacent hallway, you.

It was you and it wasn’t you. You were you, half asleep and dressed in an old t-shirt. The other you was completely nude. You stare in horror as she slips gracefully into the light fully, grinning at your expression. You don’t dare move an inch as she saddles up to you, taking a hand and delicately ghosting it over your face.

“You’re not real.” you barely mutter, voice hoarse.

“And you are?” she retorts.

It even laughed like you.

“What do you want?”

She scrunches her face in faux thought, humming. “Better. For you.” She tilts her head back at Marcus. “For him.”

“Please,” you beg. “Don’t involve him in this.”

You swear you see her face morph into something damn near demonic as she slinks towards your husband. She places herself on his lap, shushing him as he fidgets.

“He deserves so much more than what you have to offer. After all, he did give up his life so that you could have your dream.”

You shake your head. “No, this – this was our dream.”

“A silly little thing you keep telling yourself to make it through the day. With me, with us,” she fans her hand out to you. “We can have unimaginable things. You just have to let me in.”

“No.”

“Is that so?”

Your heart rattles in your chest as she advances upon you again, your feet finally cooperating with the rest of your body, allowing you to take a small step back.

She studies your face - her face - with a softness you had never experienced before. Is this how you actually looked to other people?

“Don’t be scared, it won’t hurt. We’ll start slow, ok?”

She pecks your lips, admiring the string of silvia that hangs from both of your mouths. She comes back in for another kiss and this time, you let her in further, parting your lips. Her tongue dances across yours, eliciting a tiny moan from you. She smiles as she pulls back, satisfied.

Her thumb rubs your bottom lip, teasing you as it slips in and out of your mouth. She pushes it further down, what started out as genuine curiosity turning into panic as she sticks more fingers in, her hand other ripping at your skin and tugging pieces of it off, the slight slap sound vibrating off of the kitchen floor, body fluids squelching and-

“Baby?”

You lurch forward, eyes flying open and lungs working overtime to push out more oxygen as you dry heave. Marcus sits in the bed next to you, the dark sky now replaced with sunlight streaking through the blinds.

You claw at your chest, mouth and face before lowering your head into your hands, a sob escaping your lips.

Marcus pulls you into his arms, leaving kisses in your hair.

“It’s ok, it’s ok, you were just dreaming. You’re ok.”

You take a few more deep breaths, extracting yourself from Marcus. Glancing at the nightstand, you snatch your phone off the charger.

“Did Syd or Danny call?”

Marcus shakes his head, clearly troubled by your behavior. “Are you alright?”

You know you should tell him what you saw, what you felt but figured there was no use in scaring him as well. You were going to get down to the bottom of whatever the fuck was going on but first you had some business you needed to handle.

Hitting 3 on your speed dial, you bite at the skin around your index finger. Janie picks up on the second ring.

“Where the hell are you? You promised coffee and I purposely skipped making any this morning.”

“I’m not coming in today, feeling a little under the weather. Have Shannon and Peter pick up any extra patients.”

“Of course.” a pause. “What’s going on? Really?”

You sigh. “Did Linda call?”

Janie pulls the phone away from her ear, blowing out an aggravated huff. She hated when you left her in the dark, especially when it concerned your work. You agree that she has a right to know but only when you’re absolutely sure of everything yourself.

“Yeah, she did, actually. Said she was being dramatic and that Joe is just fine.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope, she just canceled her appointment after and hung up. Sounded pretty chipper about it.”

“Fuck.”

Janie grunts. “Will you just tell me what in the hell is going on? I will show up to your doorstep, so help me-”

“Janie! I need you to shut up and listen to me for a second, ok?”

She settles down. You continue.

“There’s something strange happening in this town and I’m trying to understand it. When I know more, you’ll know more. For now, I just need you to promise to keep your mouth shut and eyes open. Can you do that for me?”

Janie swallows harshly, poking her tongue out to lick her lips. Usually she had some sort of snarky comment on her lips but the waver in your voice let her know that this was serious business.

“Yeah, yeah I can do that for you.”

“Good. Call me if you notice anything.”

Click.

You avoid Marcus’s glare boring a hole in your back, moving from the bed and into your closet.

“Where are you going?”

You nearly chuckle at your own response. “To see a doctor.”

Dr. Narduzzi’s office was situated near the edge of town, partially hidden by the overgrown greenery. Despite his shy exterior, Jean was quite the socialite, known to frequent many of the bars and taverns. Upon meeting the scrawny gentleman, you were unsure of what to make of him. He rubbed you in all the wrong ways, his loud and boastful personality clashed with yours directly. Over time you began to see beneath the surface and learned to appreciate his eccentric methods.

Honestly, he had become one of your closest confidants.

As you entered his office, you noticed his secretary, Margot, was not present. The entire place was empty, except for a repeating thud sound coming from Jean’s study near the back of the building.

The door was open and that’s where you find the psychiatrist, launching darts at a board.

He flicks his wrist and sends a dart flying, narrowly missing the bullseye.

“You’re a very busy man, I see.” you remark, sitting down in an armchair. You applauded him for the velvet material, you would purchase something like this for your own office but loathed the cleaning process that came with it.

“As always, my dear. As I remember, we have not scheduled our regular tête a tête, so this is a business meeting,” he throws another dart and misses, landing in the outer right corner. “What can I help you with today?”

“I think I’m losing my mind.”

Jean’s toothy gap smile almost covered his whole face. He haphazardly throws the remaining darts in his hand all at the same time, not caring where they end up as he sits at his desk. “Tell me more.”

“Last night, I had this dream where I was antagonized by..myself. I was looking at my reflection except it wasn’t in a mirror, she was standing right in front of me.”

Narduzzi squints his eyes as he nods, hanging onto every word you said. You don’t spend much longer describing the dream, the recounting of the story sending chills down your spine.

“That’s very interesting.” Jean thinks, rocking himself back and forth in his chair.

“I don’t need interesting, I need a solution.”

Jeans tsks. “A solution only comes when there’s something to be fixed.”

“Oh, don’t give me this metaphorical bullshit now, Jean. What does this mean? I haven’t mentioned it before, not even to Marcus but I’ve been having hallucinations and dreams like this prior to last night. I just assumed I was dehydrated, stressed or whatever but this is clearly something.”

“Mhm. Well, I know that the mirror and our reflection show us our true selves.” He rubs at his jaw.

“Are you saying that a part of me wants what she wants?”

“Potentially,” Jean gets up from his chair, coming to stoop in front of you. He grabs your hands, rubbing them in between his own. “While I do think there are some clear signs of stress and exhaustion, I think you should listen to your body. Give in. You may be surprised to see what you discover.”

The smile on your face fades as Jean squeeze’s your hands tighter, his grip pinching at your skin.

“Jean-”

You struggle in his hold, unsure of what to make of this.

“Jean, please, let go. You’re hurting me.” you breath out a panicked laugh, mustering up all of your body strength to throw him off of you.

“Don’t you get it? All the signs, practically handed to you on a silver platter. Let her in and all will be well. You can be one of us.”

Your fight or flight instincts kick in and you tackle Jean, the both of you tumbling around on the ground until you manage to escape him. You scoop up your keys and cellphone, dashing out of the door.

You don’t dare look behind you as you enter your car, skirting out of the parking lot and onto the main road. You barely let your feet up off the gas until you reach home, throwing your car in park and making a run for the front door.

You were in such a state that you didn’t notice the extra car in your driveway.

“Marcus? Marcus!” you yell, tearing through the kitchen and living room. Marcus emerges from his office, Sydney and Danny in tow.

“We have a problem.” you pant, short-winded.

Marcus looks grim. “Yeah, we do. That thing, it woke up.”

#marcus pike x you #marcus pike x female reader #Marcus pike #fic: the take over #cinewhore

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smalls-words · 1 year

Text

Chapter Six: The Container

Summary: Natasha wants to keep her personal life away from you. But a case interrupts that.

Pairings: Natasha x Fem!Reader, Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader (separating co-parents), Natasha x Yelena (siblings), Yelena x Kate (something's there that wasn't there before).

Warnings: Death (suicide), threatening, Natasha being a bit more of an asshole, Natasha being a bit softer too. Lmk if there's anything else!

A/N: If you have any ideas for the story and/or want to see some drabbles, feel free to send something into my inbox :)

Series Masterlist

*not my gif*

This was not how you wanted your morning to go.

“What made you think you'd get away with it?” You interrogated, staring down at your culprit.

“If you come clean now, I'll go easy on you. So, tell me. Did you eat… the chocolate cake?”

Peggy shook her head, her pigtail braids clipped neatly against her head. “No, Mama.”

You stood up and slowly turned at the sound of suppressed laughter being covered by coughing, glaring at Steve.

“I'm sorry. It's just cake, Y/N.” He snickered.

“Cake is not the point, Steve. This is about honesty and personal responsibility.” You sighed.

“Fine. I got this.” He patted your shoulder gently, to which you grabbed your coffee and held it easily in your fingers.

“Hey, munchkin. Do you remember when we had that talk and we said that lying is a really bad thing? Well, some of your birthday cake is missing. Now, I didn't eat it, and we know Mama didn't eat it, so… is there something you want to tell us?”

Peggy sighed, looking at Steve regretfully. “I ate it.”

“Mm-hmm.” He hummed in victory, turning to see you shaking your head.

“But Natasha said it was okay.”

“Oh, really?” Steve questioned.

“She said, if you really want to do something, you should. And I really wanted to eat some chocolate cake.” Peggy emphasised.

Steve faltered slightly. “Huh. That's… interesting. Why don't you go grab your stuff?”

You put your coffee down, a sixth sense in the back of your mind spiking as Steve turned to you once Peggy was gone. “I am so glad to hear that advice from Natasha, of all people, is on the personal responsibility lesson plan.”

“Steve, it's not what you think.”

He scoffed. “You know what, Y/N? Your private life is none of my business, but when it comes to Peggy - keep Natasha out of it.” He spat her name like it was poison on his tongue.

You thanked whoever was up there that your phone rang. “Valeria. Yeah, yeah. I'll hold.” You covered the bottom of your phone with your hand. “Okay, I get it Steve, but just don't forget tomorrow night's Taco Tuesday, okay?”

His eyes widened. “I can't do it.”

“Why?” You hissed.

“I'm working a stakeout in Van Nuys.” He shrugged.

You shook your head at him. “We agreed on planned family time so that Peggy can maintain some normalcy during the separation.”

“I know, but… this is important. I don't have a choice, Y/N. This is work.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I've never heard that one before.” You got quiet at the sound of the officer’s voice back on the line. “Yeah. Long Beach? Okay, I got it. Thanks.”

You hung up, looking at Steve with disappointment. “You know, when she asks where you are tomorrow, I'll be sure to tell her that something important came up.”

“Y/N, don’t be like that…” He tried to grab your wrist but you were already out the door, almost slamming his fingers in the frame.

You would have been glad to hear his high-pitched whine of pain.

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The physical crime scene was minimal but the location was packed with cops confiscating illegal contraband from containers, checking the books to make sure everything was accounted for whilst you hovered over the dead body with a forensic.

“What is this bruising from?” You asked, gesturing to a spot on the corpse’s neck.

“Possible imprint. I'll know more once I'm back at the lab.” He replied.

“Okay. Call me when you get something.”

“Howdy, partner!”

*Oh, God.* You thought to yourself before you looked up to see Natasha strolling in, adjusting the cuff of her polka dot black long-sleeve whilst her phone bulged from the pocket of her grey jeans. “We're not partners.” You remarked.

She looked you up and down, your leather jacket covering a viridian shirt that matched with your black jeans, her eyes lingering slightly on your boobs. “Right. So, what unpleasantness felled this heap of unrealised ambition then?”

“Suffocation, a crushed trachea. And this heap has a name.” You grumbled. “Erwin Scovell, 55. He worked security here for 20 years.”

“Ooh, talk about suffocating.” She sighed.

“Vice suspects this place has been used by criminal organisations to store illegal contraband. A container went missing, so Scovell probably walked in on a robbery in progress. Security cameras were disabled, so no video either. Probably gonna need to canvass the area…”

You trailed off as light caught your eye; light that stemmed from the torch in Natasha’s hand, flickering between your boobs whilst she gleefully observed through the forensic’s goggles.

You scoffed. “Natasha, it's a dead body. A little respect, please.”

“Do you know, I am amazed by the deferential regard you people hold for rotting flesh. I mean, this poor sap's either already in Hell or in the Silver City enduring the welcome speech, which is far worse than Hell, if you ask me.” She stood, standing over the corpse.

You brought your hands to your face, taking a few deep breaths before a tactic formed. “Okay. Let's pretend for one second that you're someone else. Someone nice, someone mature.”

“Ooh, I love role-play.” She licked her lips.

“Great. So, since we don't have any leads, let's focus on the next steps of the investigation, like what was in the stolen container.”

“But I've already solved it. I know what killed Erwin.”

“What?” You asked, entertaining her for a moment.

You really shouldn’t do that.

“Boredom! I mean, getting murdered is probably the most exciting thing that ever happened to him. When do we get to raid a drug house or shoot someone? I mean, I gave up an epic foursome to be here.”

“A man died, and we're going to do everything we possibly can to catch the killer.” You huffed.

She gave you a deadpan expression. “Pass.”

As she walked away from you, you followed after her with frustration bubbling beneath. “Are you joking?”

“Hard pass.” She emphasised.

You exploded a little bit, like a tiny volcanic eruption. “Hey!”

She turned around, still giving you that same look that annoyed you. “After all of your manipulations to get to work with me, you're really gonna walk away because you think this case is boring?”

She sighed. “Just call me when you've got a murder with a pulse. Or at least someone good-looking. I mean…”

You turned around, looking at the corpse as it was covered in a white sheet. “That woman is unbelievable.” You muttered to yourself.

And whilst you were easily capable of talking to the other officers, since you were the primary for the case, you didn’t expect Natasha to be back so soon.

“What? Have you thought of any new offensive things to say?” You glared at her.

“No, I've changed my mind. I've come back to help. Any leads yet?” She gave you a smile, but you weren’t sure if it was genuine or not.

“I need your help like I need a third boob. Wait. Don't say a word. Knew it was a mistake the minute it came out of my mouth.” You sighed, wanting to facepalm yourself.

“We're partners, and I'm offering you my services.” She grabbed the forensic’s dust brush and tickled your nose with it.

You snatched it from her grip and put it back in the bag. “I think you need a refresher course on how a partnership works. You left me hanging, remember?”

“Yes, but now I'm here because of the robbery.” She replied.

“Robbery? Why?”

“Because the container that was stolen was mine.”

You scoffed. “You somehow left that out before.”

“Well, I didn't know before. Wanda handles logistics, storage and such.” She shrugged.

“And did you know that this facility was used to house illegal contraband?” You questioned.

“No. But what better place to store my stuff than somewhere where people hide illicit goods?”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds, annoyance and frustration mixing. “Asking the obvious here, but was your stuff illegal contraband, too?”

“Define ‘illegal’.” She chuckled sheepishly.

“What was in the container?”

“A personal item, insignificant.”

“Yeah, but what was in it?”

“The only thing I brought with me to Los Angeles.”

“I know, but you're not answering the question-”

“Look!” She interrupted you abruptly, acknowledging your frustration with her surrendering hands. “I was storing some stuff, it was stolen, the theft sets an awful precedent, so I'm obliged to make the person responsible pay. Now, if you let me help, I'm certain we can solve this case quickly. And I have a lead.”

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“Snow cones? This is your lead?” You asked as you stood in line for the snow cone truck, the beach positively warm as you stripped off your jacket.

“We don't have time for this. We should be working.”

“What can I get you?” The truck owner asked with a happy smile.

“Uh, yes. I'll have two Tropic Wonders and your face smashed into the ground.” Natasha smiled, grabbing him by the shirt before pulling him out and onto the ground, shifting her grip to his neck.

“Natasha, what are you doing? Stop!” You growled, pushing back against her but she was incredibly strong, evident by the muscles underneath her shirt that you gripped tightly.

“I believe they call this interrogating.” She smirked.

“Natasha, stop!”

“He needs to tell me where my stuff is.”

“Natasha! This is not how we do things!”

She lifted him off of the ground and onto his feet, even if it was just his toes touching the ground. “This pathetic sap's real name is Frankie Costa, and his real job is transporting and storing illegal goods. Wanda set up the warehouse through him so if someone knew to rob it, he'd be involved.”

“I wouldn't steal from my own operation. That warehouse is off-limits. Chica, I'm trying to get out of the storage racket.”

“Yes, focus, Frankie. Who took my property?” She asked sternly.

“I don't know. I'm trying to find out myself. This is bad for business.” He wheezed through her firm grip.

You observed the phones around you, recording Natasha’s assault. “And who would know about the storage service?” You quickly questioned.

“Who are you?” He looked down at you.

“I'm someone with one of these.” You gestured to your badge on your hip. “But she doesn't have one. So say if I were to walk away, she can do whatever she wants to you. Or if you're not responsible, you can point us in the right direction of someone who is. Cool?”

Although you paid her no mind, Natasha felt a thrill chase down her spine at your deviousness.

Frankie nodded. “Okay, okay. Los Diablos.” His pronunciation tinged with Americanism.

“The biker club?”

“Yeah. I run the warehouse, but they run the docks. If anything went down, they would know about it. That's all I know. I swear.” He wheezed again.

“All right, all right.” You tapped Natasha’s forearm.

“Fine.” She let him go back into his truck to make her snow cone.

As you walked to the top of the staircase, back onto the sidewalk of the main road, you could feel Natasha’s eyes on your ass. But you couldn’t ignore her as she came to your side - mostly because she was being annoying.

“That was incredible. It was musical, poetic really. We were like fish and chips, salt and pepper. Hipsters and condescension.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't arrest you for assault.” You hissed.

She shrugged. “Fine, Frankie's a complete scumbag, and he skimps on the cherry syrup. So that's two, actually.”

“Something's going on with you, and it has to do with that mysterious container, so no more games. What's in it?”

She huffed. “It was a gift from my father.”

You scoffed. “That's still not an answer. I mean, what, was it his memoirs? Some priceless porn collection?”

“Look, if we're gonna work together on this, you're gonna have to trust me, all right?” She turned in front of you, making you stop.

“You're right, we shouldn't work together on this.” You looked defeated as you walked past her.

“Aren't we being a touch dramatic?” She chuckled sheepishly, a skip in her step as she caught up with you.

“You know, I put up with a lot of crap to let you in on my cases, and that's because thus far you've been honest with me, but now, for some reason, you're not telling me the full story.” You stopped again, her eyebrows furrowed slightly but you couldn’t detect what emotion they held.

“I'm telling you everything you need to know to help find my stuff.” She huffed.

“A man was murdered, and all you can talk about is your property?”

“Yes, but if we find it, then you find out who killed the security guard, it's a win-win. So, please, enlighten me. Under what rock will we find Los Diablos? It's a very on-the-nose name, if you ask me.”

You sighed, pulling out your phone. “We won't find them anywhere. It's a conflict of interest.”

You quickly walked away from her, wiping away the small tear that rested on your cornea. The dial tone rang three times before the caller answered, a sigh coming through.

“Look, Y/N, I told you, there's nothing I can do about tomorrow.”

“Truce. This is a call for Steve the detective. I need your help.”

“Okay.” He answered cautiously.

“It's about my case.”

“Homicide at the docks. Security guard killed during a robbery.”

“Yeah, that container that was stolen, it was Natasha’s.”

You heard his hesitation. “That storage facility was filled with black market goods. You think what Natasha had stored there may be illegal.”

You hummed. “Whatever is in that container, she won't tell me. And for a woman who's all about oversharing, says a lot, so I want you to look into her, try and find out what she might be hiding.”

“Absolutely.” You heard his pleasure shine through before he ended the call.

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Natasha sat on the couch with her arms spread over the back of it, listening to the noirette talk.

“When Y/N told you to leave, how did that make you feel?” Kate asked.

“Well, pissed off, of course.” She remarked.

“Whatever was stolen from you must have been very important.”

“No. Actually, no, it's the principle at stake here. I mean, nobody steals from me and gets away with it.” Natasha chuckled wryly.

Kate sighed, folding her legs as her fingers intertwined with each other. “This loss brings up an issue that we've been skirting since we began our work together. Your identity.”

“It's still the Devil, darling.”

“Yes, but who are you trying so hard to become?”

“Nobody. I'm completely unbecoming.”

Kate took a breath. “And yet you keep trying on many hats to hide your horns. Party girl, cop, club owner…”

“Yes, you forgot ‘mistress of all things tongue-related’. Speaking of which, shall we?” She smirked, moving to unbutton her top.

Kate held her hand up to stop her. “That's for later. I think we're onto something very important here. One of the hardest things we ever do…” She waited for Natasha to sit back down. “Is to learn to be ourselves. I want you to tell me who you believe is the real you.”

“I…” The redhead sighed. “I am… second-guessing your skills as a therapist.”

Kate held back her initial remark. “You're feeling judged. So you're lashing out and judging me. But that's excellent. It's transference. Which means you seek my approval.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I seek no one's approval. And time's up. Suddenly I'm no longer in the amorous mood.” She stood, grabbing the door handle.

Kate stood too. “Okay, hold on... Hold on, Natasha. You think that's a fight. I think it's progress.”

“Or maybe I'm just realising what a waste of time this is.” Natasha left, closing the door behind her.

“I'm glad you came ba…” She faltered, recognising another doctor instead of Natasha.

“Oh. Is everything okay?” Yelena asked, standing in a plain jacket and jeans.

Kate smiled nervously. “It-it's you. Hi.”

“I'm sorry, it's just, uh, thin walls.” Yelena chuckled sheepishly.

“Oh. Yes, everything's fine. Uh, please.” Kate gestured for her to come in.

“Thanks again for drinks the other night, Kate.”

“Uh, yeah. Yes, that was fun.”

“Yeah.” Yelena chuckled. “And what do parents do to their children to make them believe that they’re the Devil? I don’t mean to be unprofessional, but… It’s a few red flags in the family department there.”

“We're colleagues. Cone of silence.” Kate promised, sitting on her couch. “And I think she struggles with her identity, if anything.”

“Patients with delusions. They can be really challenging.” Yelena commented.

The noirette smiled to herself. “She's actually quite charming. She’s incredibly kind, but tries to hide it behind her ‘Devil’ stature.”

“Yeah, but even Satan disguises himself as an angel of the light. 2 Corinthians, chapter 11, verse 14. Two years of seminary school before I decided I wanted to help people in a different way.” The blonde explained after receiving an odd look.

“Ah. Interesting. I thought you seemed… pure.”

“Listen, you really helped me with my patient the other day, and I would love to return the favour. I know the Bible inside and out, so if you ever need a consult, just let me know.”

“Thank you, Dr. Belova.” Kate gave her a sweet smile before Yelena left to go back to her office.

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“I can't explain it. Lux's books are clean.” Steve spoke over the phone whilst you stepped out of the car, making sure it was out of view of the bar’s cameras.

“How is that even possible?” You scoffed.

“I had them run for discrepancies with receivables. I looked for hidden payments. Whatever Natasha’s into, it's not running through Lux.”

“All right, thanks for trying.”

“Listen, Y/N… I want to talk to you about Taco Tuesday.”

You spotted the head of red locks over the bush before you even turned the corner, Natasha’s awaiting stance brightening slightly with a smile. “Hey, Steve, I got to go.”

You rolled your eyes at Natasha as she walked next to you. “Next time you secretly follow someone, don't tailgate them. Draws a little attention.”

“It's not my fault you drive like an elderly turtle.” She remarked.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Natasha, just… go home.” You huffed, already having a migraine.

“Detective…”

“It sucks not getting what you want. Now you have to deal with it like the rest of us.” You walked ahead of her towards the bar door.

“I'm sorry.”

You turned around, observing her nervous stance and downcast lips. “What did you just say?”

She straightened herself up a little bit. “I apologise. I crossed the line this morning with Mr. Snow Cone. It was a mistake. I realise that now.”

“Wow. You must really be desperate.”

“I prefer determined. Look, I need your help to find my stuff. But you have to admit I've proven myself useful. Despite the methods employed, Frankie did give us a solid lead. Insanely wild guess, but this is where we'll find some Los Diablos.” She gestured to the sign on the blacked out window.

You nodded, showing her the photographic evidence on your phone. “There's an imprint on the victim's neck that we found under UV light. Killer must've worn some kind of bracelet when he strangled the security guard. Cross look familiar?” You then pointed to a bike, the same symbol on it.

Natasha grinned. “Well, what do you know? Our suspect awaits.”

You had to be careful in a bar like this - most of the bikers were grown men, save a few women, and all of them looked like they knew how to throw a punch - and you definitely didn’t want to turn it into a fight.

But Natasha didn’t care.

Grumbling came from the annoyed bikers as their music turned off, which was Natasha’s doing by pulling out the plug. She then climbed onto the bar, most of the men looking almost predatorily at her assets. “Excuse me! Pardon the intrusion, you Village People rejects, but one of you has stolen something that belongs to me. So please identify yourself, so I can punish you accordingly.”

“I thought we were past you thinking you're invincible.” You huffed at her.

“I really want to find my stuff.” She remarked at you.

“What the hell did you just say? Hmm? Hermione Granger?”

“Mess him up, Renny!” A cheer came from the crowd, a few supportive cheers added.

Natasha jumped down easily. “Well, since you're obviously lower on the human evolutionary chain, perhaps your hearing hasn't developed as well as it should, so I'll repeat myself. Who... stole... my... property?”

As Renny took a swing at Natasha, you grabbed his elbow and shoulder and swung him onto the ground, putting your knee on his back. “Everybody back the hell off or you're going to jail.” You threatened.

Natasha kinda wanted to see that happen.

A whistle grabbed your attention, as intended, and you saw a man walk easily between the crowd like Noah. “Pardon my boys. They don't always have the best, uh, people skills. Take a breather, Renny. Now!”

You moved off of Renny and he walked away, albeit annoyed that a woman of your height had been able to get him to the ground.

“Hank Cutter. I'm in charge here.” He introduced himself to Natasha, eying her valuable suit and rings. “Oh, a Mrs. Police. How are you?”

Surprisingly, you didn’t take his comment offensively. Whilst he was dressed as a biker, he had the aura of a father - one that was kind, but could be firm, as previously demonstrated.

“Why don't we chat in my office, okay? Follow me.”

After you closed the door of his office, adorned with guitars and posters of Los Diablos, you began your interrogation. “We heard that you control the docks, and if anything goes down, Los Diablos are in on it.”

“Really? We're just a riding club, okay?” Cutter chuckled.

“Whose members have been arrested for guns, drugs, murder.”

“A few bad apples shouldn't paint us all in a bad light, now should it, ma'am?”

“But it does paint you as suspects.”

“Hey, look, just because we have a reputation as outlaws doesn't mean we had anything to do with a murder.”

“You like being considered a criminal, don't you?” Natasha asked, and you immediately saw her mojo working as Cutter’s pupils dilated. “Yeah, you do. What else do you want?”

Cutter chuckled, almost giggled in fact. “To own a clothing line.”

“Clothing line? I-I did not see that one coming.” You stammered.

“Yes, managing bikers must be so exhausting. All that brawling and pillaging.” Natasha sighed sympathetically.

“I'm 54.” Cutter shrugged. “I'd rather be in my hammock playing my Stratocaster. All this motorcycle riding enlarged my prostate. It's unpleasant.”

“That's an unfortunate occupational hazard.” Natasha looked down at herself and you immediately looked away.

“Tell me about it. Look, we've trademarked our name. We're selling T-shirts and jackets, and we're gonna re-brand and go legit.” He grinned proudly.

“There's a lot of money in the apparel industry.” You interjected.

“All the more reason to keep our noses clean. See, we used to cover the docks, not anymore. I specifically ordered them off-limits.”

“Maybe someone missed the re-branding memo. Killer wore a bracelet with an iron cross. Left an imprint on the dead security guard at the warehouse.” You showed Cutter the photo, to which he scoffed.

“Look, uh, a lot of bikers wear iron crosses.”

“Yeah, well, I'm interested in your guys who have iron crosses.”

“Hey, look, I've told you everything I know. If you have any more questions, feel free to contact my attorney.” Cutter’s tone signalled the end of the conversation.

“But we're not finished yet.” Natasha grinned, only for your hand to fall onto her bicep.

“Yeah, we're done. Thank you, Cutter.” You muttered after closing the door.

As soon as you stepped outside, Natasha complained. “Why are we leaving? He's hiding something. It's obvious. We need to force it out of him.”

You faced her. “We have this little thing called due process. We can't just force things out of people. Besides, there's an easier way to get our bad guy.”

As you got into the car, Natasha followed before hearing the locks click whilst you placed the keys in the centre console. “Did you see the look on Cutter's face when he saw that photo? He knows exactly who robbed the docks. He's gonna need to deal with this immediately.”

“Or it puts his plan to re-brand in jeopardy.” Natasha concluded, which you nodded at.

“Defying his orders, it's a huge challenge to his authority. He's not gonna want to deal with this in public. Bet you the first person he goes to see is the owner of that bracelet.”

“What, so your strategy is just to sit here, paralysed, hoping that Cutter leads us to the suspect? What a terrible idea.” She scoffed.

“Hmm, you think so?” You hummed, ignoring her mostly.

“I do, I mean, for one, even though Cutter's no brain surgeon, surely he wouldn't just…” She trailed off and you grinned at the sight of an angry Cutter on the phone.

“Wouldn't what?” You remarked.

“Well done, Detective.”

“Oh, don’t act so smug.” You sneered playfully as you started up the car just as Cutter pulled out of the bar.

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“This is the longest I've sat in a parked car and not had sex.”

“Ew.” You grumbled at Natasha.

The car was not as comfortable as a cinema lounge chair, but it wasn’t too bad. You were still hungry from not having had lunch, or dinner for that matter since it was already late.

“You can't enjoy this. This… sitting around endlessly, waiting for something to happen.” She huffed.

“You know, if sitting here not being entertained is so terrible, then maybe it's a sign you should be somewhere else.” You scowled, deciding to not look at her anymore.

“Have I done something to offend you?”

“Only every time I see you.”

“Ha, ha, ha. No, this is different.” She waited for you to turn and face her.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Oh, how quickly your decisions cave when she speaks.

You sighed, turning to face her. “For the first time, I don't think you're being honest with me. You have this mysterious container that was stolen that someone was willing to kill for, you make shady deals with shady people, you're violent, your personal records only go back five years, and the books from Lux are way too clean.”

She raised an eyebrow at you and you looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the only ring on them that you still hadn’t taken off. “I had Steve go and check it out.” You murmured.

“You had Steve deal with Wanda? Alone? Oh, dear. For the first time, I actually feel sorry for Detective Douche.” She snickered.

“It all points to you being a criminal.”

“So what's the big deal? What if I am a criminal?”

“I'd have to arrest you.”

“Ooh, whip out the cuffs, then. Why shy away from a little bondage fun?” She grinned.

You shook your head in dismay, not seeing her frown as you turned away, tracing your nail against the condensating window. “You know, Natasha, this is serious. And despite all your weirdness I… I actually really like working with you.”

“I like working with you too, malyshka.” She murmured.

You looked down as her hand twitched, almost like she wanted to reach out and take yours. But that gentle facade quickly faded as her infamous smirk came to her lips. “What a momentous revelation, Detective Valeria. We should celebrate.”

“You can celebrate from jail when it turns out I'm right about you.” You rolled your eyes.

Her hand engulfed yours. “I have never lied to you. And I will never lie to you.”

Warmth. Kindness. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t she just be kind all the time instead of being an asshole?

“What was in the container?” You asked.

She took a breath, never breaking eye contact with you. “Russian dolls.”

“Russian dolls?” You asked again, to which she gave you a single, slow nod.

The sound of a motorcycle engine broke your eye contact, your hand slipping out of hers. “Here we go.”

The conversation had already started out badly, but you didn’t expect Renny to pull out a gun and shoot Cutter. “This is Unit 831. Shots fired at 21st and Lewis. We need backup and an ambo, now.”

You jumped out of the car and raced over to Cutter, applying pressure to his chest. “Mrs. Police. Didn’t expect to… see you so soon.” He coughed.

“Save your air, Cutter. We might just need your statement.” You smirked, looking down at your jacket.

“Oh, screw it. You owe me a leather jacket.” You used yours to slow the bleeding, his hand coming to your wrist.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just keep your breathing slow and steady.”

You waited until paramedics arrived before getting into a squad car, inputting your car’s licence plate to find Natasha at a warehouse. You didn’t wait for the uniformed officer, instead racing in with your gun in hand to hear chatter echoing from above.

“Natasha!” You yelled out, but your voice fell on deaf ears.

You got to the door just as Renny leapt off of the side of the building, too far for Natasha to grab and save him. You blocked your ears from the deadly thud before the frozen statue of Natasha turned to face you.

“I couldn't stop him.”

You waited on the side of the curb as paramedics arrived, collecting Renny’s body whilst Cutter sat in another EMT. He silently held out his jacket to you, which you gratefully took in your shivering form, before he too went to the hospital.

The sight of Natasha’s stare into oblivion made you walk up to her, a pair of bolt cutters in hand that you let lean against your leg. “Hey, are you okay?”

She didn’t answer.

“Looks like Cutter's gonna make it. He just gave a statement.”

“Cutter?” She asked, dazed slightly.

“The guy Renny shot. Renny was pissed about the direction of the club, he thought they were selling out. So he went out on his own, robbed the warehouse and killed the security guard. We got justice for Erwin Scovell.” You lightly patted her shoulder.

“Wonderful.” She murmured.

You gently nodded, leaning against her as the warmth radiated through the chilly evening. “And they've recovered one container belonging to… Natasha Romanoff.”

She immediately looked down at you. “Where?”

“Inside.”

“You didn't take a sneaky peek before telling me?”

You looked up at her, and she felt like you were staring at her damned soul. “You'd never lie to me, right?”

She laughed wryly. “You're gonna watch me open it.”

You picked up the bolt cutters, handing them over as you stepped away from her. “You're damn right.”

You followed her into the warehouse, the container no longer covered by a sheet since it lay on the ground, and Natasha cut the lock off. She wrenched open the doors, lights turning on inside, with an ancient-looking box resting in the centre.

Natasha took your hand and rested it on one of the padlocks, putting her own on the other before you both lifted to find…

Nine sets of Russian dolls resting on top of straw.

“I told you.” Natasha remarked.

“Why go to all this trouble for dolls?” You asked, rummaging around below the straw to find nothing else.

“Dumayu, mozhno skazat', chto eto chast' moyego naslediya. I guess you could say it's a bit of my heritage.” She translated, smirking all the while.

Your eyes widened. “Since when did you speak Russian?”

“Always, malyshka.” She winked at you.

You rolled your eyes before you hugged her side. “Enjoy your dolls.”

“I most certainly will.” She murmured against your forehead before you left.

Leaving her to search the rest of the container, finding nothing.

“They're gone.”

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“I'm glad you came back.” Kate smiled warmly as she opened her door to the sight of Natasha.

“Well, I needed to get my parking validated.” The redhead remarked as she sat down.

“So your items were never recovered?”

“No.”

“Earlier, you said that the items weren't that important. Yet now, you seem very upset that they're gone.”

“Well, I'm a walking paradox. What can I say?”

Kate sighed. “Sometimes we need to lose something before we can understand its value.”

“I didn't lose anything.” Natasha scoffed.

“No. No, you were a victim of a crime. It's only natural that you would feel violated. And often, our feelings of loss connect to how we feel... about who we are.”

The redhead raised an eyebrow, but her lips were flat, unlike when she would be playful with you. No, Natasha was hurting.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come to see Kate at this hour. “Oh, right. So we're back on that, are we? You want to talk about my identity.”

“Yes, because you're the Devil. You told me your names. But you left out a few others. Abaddon. Belial. Princess of Darkness…”

“Someone's been brushing up on their Sunday school.”

“Yes. But before you fell, you were known as Natalia. The Lightbringer.” Kate emphasised the final name.

“I don't go by that name anymore.” Natasha grumbled.

“That was a name that connotated your father's love for you.”

“Right. Was casting his child into Hell also an expression of his love?”

“Oh, God didn't cast you out of Heaven because he was angry with you.” Kate shook her head.

Natasha guffawed at her statement. “How can you presume to know God's intentions? You’ve never spent a minute with the man.”

“Oh, I haven’t. And I don’t presume.”

“Then maybe stick within the limits of your intellectual capacity.”

“Or maybe my simplicity offers me a different perspective. God cast you out because He needed you to do the most difficult of jobs. It was a gift.”

“Gift?” She growled, surprising Kate.

“He shunned me. He vilified me, he made me a torturer! Can you even begin to fathom what it was like? Eons spent providing a place for dead mortals to punish themselves? I mean, why do they blame me for all their little failings? As if I'd spent my days, sitting on their shoulder, forcing them to commit acts they'd otherwise find repulsive. ‘Oh, the Devil made me do it’! I have never made any one of them do anything. Never.”

“What happened to you is unfair.” Kate tried to calm her down but she wasn’t having it.

“Unfair? This is unjust. For all eternity, my true nature will be invoked to represent all their depravity. That is the gift that my father gave me.” She spat.

“It was an act of love.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you are his favourite child, Natalia.”

“Do not call me that, please!” Natasha stood.

Kate took a facade of charge. “You are his fallen angel. But here's the thing: When angels fall, they also rise. All you have to do is embrace all that you are.”

“I can't.”

“Yes, you can. You just have to be open to the process-”

“You don't understand. I can't!”

“But why?”

Natasha took control.

“BECAUSE THEY STOLE THEM FROM ME!” She roared, slamming her fist through the wall behind the couch.

Without a moment’s notice, she left, her phone to her ear as she muttered two sentences.

“Someone’s got them, Wanda. Someone’s got my wings.”

#smalls words #devil of my word #domw au #natasharomanoff angst #natasharomanoff fluff #natasharomanoff x reader #natasharomanoffimagine #natasharomanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #devil!natasha romanoff #detective!reader

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prittyvenus · 11 months

Text

The Medium and the Nameless Ghouls

Case file 003-4 Terzo file the haunting

After getting the bishop’s name from Dewdrop, the cops began the investigation. Omega and Phil are both willing to help but Phil’s past life is beginning to unravel along with phantoms of the past. Can Sara help solve the crisis that’s plaguing him?

Sara heard a loud shriek that woke her up in the middle of the night. Then she saw the phantom ghost of Primo sitting on a chair next to her bed. She was afraid at first but then she calmed down when she realized who it was. "Grandpa?" She says as she gets closer to the phantom. Then he gave a warm smile to her as she traced his face with her hands.

Footsteps came to her door and loud banging came out. "Sara wake up! We have a ghost problem!"

"Hold that thought." She told him. "I’m coming!" She yelled at the door.

When Sara opened the door, a terrified Thomas was out of breath. "Sara, a ghost has the officers held hostage."

"That's funny, I thought you guys don't want me because, and I Quote 'The Demon of the Police Force'. So, why should I even help you?"

"Look, don't start shit," Thomas yelled. "Just help us out, okay!"

"You're not my superior officer," Sara told Thomas. "So, you can't say shit, and after that fiasco at the meeting, why should I help you?"

"You fucking bitch."

"Feelings mutual, ass hole." Sara shuts the door, and a very disappointed Primo stares at Sara. "What?"

He hands gestures to Sara. "Signorina, no. You don't disrespect your colleague like that."

"I'm not disrespecting him. I'm just giving a good dose of karma." Primo folded his arms and gave a stern look on his face. "Look grampa, I know that you want what is best for me, but you're not my dad, and I'm not going to apologize."

Then Detective Stevens started to yell. "Sara, we got an aggressive spirit on our hands. Can you negotiate with it?"

Primo continues to sternly look at Sara and starts to tap his foot. "Urrr… fine, I'll do it!" Sara opens the door. "But I'm still not going to apologize." Primo smiled and followed Sara. Sara went downstairs and yelled, "Alright where is it?" She found a group of seven officers shaking in a corner and a phantom Secondo in his papa attire staring down at them. "Really? You guys are the toughest men out there, and you can’t even handle one ghost." Secondo turned around and looked at Sara. "If I talk to him, you guys better give me an apology after this." Secondo began to analyze her. "Sorry, about that, my name is Sara, and…"

Secondo grabs her chin and pulls her closer to him. He sees the pentagram in her left eye and carefully analyzes it. "Questa è una vera maledizione? Come l'hai presa?"

"Excuse me? I don’t understand…"

Secondo interrupted Sara. "The curse in your left eye, how did you get it?"

"From a high-level demon. It’s a long story."

One of the female officers shouted from the right-side banister. "There’s a headless man in the bathtub!"

Sara told Secondo. "Hold that thought." Then she marched up the stairs and asked "Where is it?" The officer pointed her at the open door of the hallway. She looked inside and saw a headless man lying in the bathtub filled with blood and water. The officers were too scared to go inside. "Really? You guys never handled a crime scene before?" The officers are shocked "I swear you’re all a bunch of rookies!" she yelled in a harsh voice. "Get me the rubber gloves so I can handle this!" Sara got the gloves and puts them on, and then she takes pictures with her phone, then she goes to the rack and grabs a small towel, and then she goes to the drain. "I don’t feel anything suspicious,” She puts the towel around the drain and slowly releases the plug. "The water should come down and then we can check for evidence." Soon she spotted some black hair floating around the water. "I think I found the head." She grabbed the head by the hair, then the body grabbed Sara by the arm then pulled her in close to the tub. Sara punched the body in the stomach and it leaned towards the head. She pulled the body back and then grabbed the head and pulled it out of the water. All of the officers screamed and ran away. "What a bunch of rookies…" She says with embarrassment "Well, at least you’re out of the water, Terzo."

Terzo opened his eyes and said, "Grazie, amore mio." Then he winked and smiled at her.

Sara took a deep breath and said "Damn, I hate my job." Then Sergeant Jackson appeared at the door. "I think we need to retrain the officers on how to handle a crime scene," she said as she put his head back into the tub. "Close your eyes and hold still." She said as she got out her phone.

"Make sure you get my good side," Terzo said to her. Sara snapped some more pictures from different angles. Then she noticed that the body was out of place, from the previous photos.

The officers peeked into the bathroom and Sergeant George looked at the door. "We are going to have a meeting about this." He said in a stern voice. "Tomorrow morning in the war room. Sara, can you send me the pictures when you are done."

"Of course, sir." She said as she rearranges Terzo's body to make it look like it was in the first set of photos. Then she reshoots the photos and she puts away her phone. "Okay, thank you for your time, Terzo." She said as she puts Terzo's head on his body.

Terzo said "Grazie" Sara helped lifted his body out of the tub and then she heard footsteps from behind her.

"Please, allow us to take care of Master Terzo," Omega said as he helps Terzo to his feet and out of the bathtub. Phil rushed in with a bathrobe and silk pajama pants and started to dress Terzo in them.

Sara went downstairs and sees Secondo and Primo arguing in Italian. "Come potevo sapere che è tua nipote!" Secondo gave him the hand gesture. "Hai parlato a malapena di tua moglie anche dopo che ti ha lasciato!"

"Se n'è andata perché ha trovato la famiglia che sta crescendo nostro figlio e ha detto che non tornerà finché non sarà con lei." He points his finger at Secondo. "Non mi metti mai quel tono di voce. Non dimenticare che sono stato io a crescere te e Terzo dopo che papà ci ha abbandonati, Secondo."

"Is everything okay grampa?" Sara asked.

"No, piccolo mio, everything is fine." Primo looks at Sara. "What happened to your clothes, mio figlio?"

Sara looks at her shirt. "Oh, I was playing crime scene with Uncle Terzo." She shows the pictures on her phone.

"Perché hai messo uno straccio intorno allo scarico?" Secondo asked.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Sara asked, "I don't understand the language."

"What? You don’t speak Italian." Terzo asked as he was going downstairs. Secondo and Primo were shocked that he was still in flesh but was bleeding from his throat.

"Omega can you and Phil get the first aid kit for Uncle Terzo?" She asked. "We don’t want him making the house, to look like a crime scene."

Terzo looks confused. Then he looks at the small masked ghoul before he vanishes. "Wait, what?" Terzo looked at Sara.

"Why won't we sit down and have ourselves some coffee," Sara told the three men. "there's a lot to discuss."

Case file closed

Case file contents

#papa emeritus iv #nameless ghouls #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #omega ghoul #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus iii #phil ghoul #terzo #papa emiritus ii #secondo #primo #copia #papa popia

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anterocash · 1 year

Text

tw: Cash is in his hating women era in this, don't read

As usual, Cash sits in a hospital bed alone. There is no Deja Vu; this is his life now. Extended hospital stays, surgery, he almost requested no post-op medication — it scared him the last time how much he relied on the pills, but Ashley cut him the fuck cut up — Cash wants all of it, the nifty button he pushes and the strong stuff they have behind the bar goes straight into his veins. You’d think after being told that someone loves you, and then they vanish over a million times now, Cash wouldn’t be surprised. Yet, he lays in the bed staring at the door as if it would make the woman who put him here magically appear.

The television plays quietly in the background as he taps at his phone; no one knows Cash was stabbed, and he intends to keep it that way. The one thing that sucks about these ‘emergency’ visits is not being able to pack his laptop or phone charger. That isn’t stopping him from writing in the notes app on his phone; he can’t let his mind go to mush worrying about an ex. Because that’s what Ashley is: an ex (he has the damn piece of paper in his strong box, they are separated in every sense of the word – minus name) who missed the dick too much. Or so he rationalizes, so he isn’t hurt by her absence.

Because this really sucks.

He’s taken to turning his phone off in intervals to conserve battery, and one of the nurses helping him said something about a charger for Cash earlier in the day. Still, with his renewed distrust in women, he sees her bringing it a fat chance in hell. With a resigned sigh, he puts his phone down next to him and tries to focus on the drama on TV, turning the volume up. Cash isn’t much for these types of shows – his life is dramatic enough, he doesn’t find escapism in watching it, he’s more of a comedy man, dramedy: he can put up with some tears if there is also laughter. He’s trying, though. The female lead is pretty. He doesn’t understand the point of having her flirt with the second male lead if the whole point is for her to end up with the first male lead she’s no doubt standing next to in the poster for the show. Just when he’s finally letting himself get something close to invested in the plot, there’s a knock on the door, and he sits up too fast, wincing in pain – well, it’s not real pain; he’s still pretty numbed up, but it didn’t feel good, and Cash reminded why he’s there.

His nurse (sans phone charger, see? All women lie, even the helpful ones) pokes her head in with a worrisome look. “Mr. Shon –”

“It’s Cash, don’t worry about that with me.” She still seems flustered but nods. “Cash, there are detectives here to talk to you. Do you want me to tell them to come back later?” He corrects his glasses and clears his throat, muting the television. Cash presses the button for his happy drug to prepare himself; it will be the thing he misses the most when he’s discharged. “No… they will just keep coming back until I talk; let them in.”

It feels like an episode of a cop show. They walk in – the three men sus each other up. There is no cool and manly way to look intimidating while sitting in a hospital bed, so Cash folds first, tilting his head expectantly at the other two. Well? Go on.

“How are you feeling, Cash? You’ve had quite the week. Do you remember anything from when you were dropped off?” Even though Cash is disappointed that Ashley hasn’t shown up (serial killers revisit the crime scene, everyone knows this, so what’s her damn excuse? Lying whore), he’s not a snitch or anything. “Um…” time to play weak. Cash takes a sip of ice water, eyeing the IV in his arm before he speaks. “No? I own a coffeehouse – Bean Through? We were closing – I was closing, and a guy wanted to rob me, and when he couldn’t, he –” Cash makes a stabbing motion towards his middle. “But I don’t remember much after he got me…”

The detectives nod in what they think is empathy. Cash could care less if they actually believed his story. He’s not the one who committed a crime for once. Minkyu Lee has a decent-sized rap sheet, while Cash Shon? An upstanding citizen without even a speeding ticket. “But do you remember who got you here?”

Cash’s permanent poker face finally comes to his aid. He doesn’t call it a ‘resting bitch face’ because he doesn’t think he’s a bitch. Maybe if ‘resting asshole face’ was a thing, maaaaybe. His expression stays the same as he shakes his head. Can’t beat the truth out of him. “Like I said, after he tried to get the money, I don’t remember much. Bastard sliced my hand good though when I tried to stop him.” One of the detectives nods while he jots something down in a tiny notebook, just like Cash used to do, while the other poorly conceals his distrust. “Who’s the woman that dropped you off? Why didn’t you call 112?”

Why are you asking so many goddamn questions? It is on the tip of Cash’s tongue, and he swallows it. He doesn’t need a fine for swearing at a cop or whatever those uniformed gang members do these days when they figure out someone else’s balls are bigger than theirs in the room. “I don’t know.” Honest answer, Cash knew it would have been better if he was transported in an ambulance, but he was trying to avoid this from happening, so either way, he’s screwed and stabbed.

And she still hasn’t shown up.

“She… she must have found me and got me here. I just remember laying there thinking I would bleed out, and then I woke up here.”

“Is it possible that the perpetrator will appear on the security footage at your coffeehouse?”

Shit.

Cash didn’t think that far. And why should he?

Because he would rather Ashley finish the job than admit a woman stabbed him, even if it was out of love? Fake love clearly since she hasn’t come to visit yet.

“Possibly? I’ll have to ask the manager to bring you the security footage….” Cash yawns to really drive it home that he’s ready for them to leave.

The cops nod, and the one with the notebook leaves a business card, “call us when you remember anything, Mr. Shon.” Cash is so ready for them to go he doesn’t bother to correct him. Mr. Shon is so… proper. He presses his handy dandy button and feels the effects immediately.

“Will do…”

They leave, and Cash unmutes the television, yawning from the strong medicine kicking in. The episode is over, whatever; Cash wasn’t paying much attention to it anyway. Just when he’s about to doze off, another knock on the door gets his attention. He’s given up on expecting Ash to show up, so he doesn’t risk his stitches to sit up. It’s the nurse.

“Cash, I bought you a phone charger.”

#drabble #stabgate 2020

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zutaralesbian · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,800 times in 2022

274 posts created (15%)

1,526 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thegoatsongs

@whaticameherefor

@anniejanuarygf

@royaltealovingkookiness

@emilyskinners

I tagged 1,782 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#fanart - 399 posts

#killing eve - 317 posts

#villaneve - 241 posts

#spop - 223 posts

#shameless - 190 posts

#* - 177 posts

#atla - 170 posts

#gallavich - 161 posts

#first kill - 140 posts

#catradora - 135 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and i’m afraid that in the end the villaneve content they give won’t be worth it and all these extra characters are just using up screentime

My Top Posts in 2022:

It’s funny that JKR considers herself some kind of champion of women just because she shits on trans people when even her books are actually riddled with misogyny and favoritism towards the male characters. Name 1 prominent relationship between two women in Harry Potter that’s positive, not filled with petty animosity, and gets a decent amount of page time.

You can’t

198 notes - Posted January 7, 2022

The Killing Eve writers (at least the head ones) have always looked at the idea of Eve and Villanelle being in a “domestic” relationship through very heteronormative lenses I think. Like…Eve and Villanelle could have very easily ended the series as a happy couple and still be a little dysfunctional and commit crimes together. Their idea of being domestic didn’t have to align with what was “normal” and I don’t think anyone ever really wanted or expected that.

But the writers are too black and white and simple minded to think like that I guess.

257 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

Will never get over the big brained storytelling of Fear Street. The cop who played the hero the entire trilogy and his rich ancestors turned out to be the villains the whole time. And the “witch” who was scapegoated as being the cause of the curse was completely innocent and was persecuted and punished simply for being gay and loving another woman. Like, I’ll be screaming about that years from now.

291 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

I do think it’s funny how Eve and Villanelle have both caused extreme bodily harm to the other (the stabbing and shooting) and yet Villanelle frets over Eve having a minor injury on her hand and Eve loses her shit when Helene has Villanelle shot with an arrow.

It’s very “no one is allowed to do that except me” of them.

351 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I don’t know where the KE writers ever got the idea that Eve is someone that is “meant” for a normal life and just got dragged into the chaos by Villanelle. It actually goes against the core of her character lmao. (And it is a pattern with them bc Emerald Fennel said similar shit about Eve in her post S2 interviews). In the beginning, Eve was literally introduced as someone that was bored with her normal life, which is why she started chasing Villanelle in the first place.

Eve is a woman who has canonically:

- Broke laws and got someone killed in her determination to track Villanelle

- Repeatedly gaslit her husband and put his life at risk in her obsession

- Stabbed Villanelle while they were lying in bed together

- Seriously contemplated pushing a man in front of a bus for being rude to her

- Left a man for dead in order to save Villanelle

- Gleefully helped finish off killing Dasha (and then later agreed with Villanelle that it was romantic that they both killed her lol)

- Unapologetically shot Konstantin

- Admitted that she wanted Villanelle to fuel to her “monster”

- Kidnapped a child

- Got visibly horny watching Villanelle kill Helene

- Gorged out Gunn’s eyeballs

And you’re trying to say this woman would function well in normal society? Lmao.

Anyway, I remember when Sandra Oh said that the finale could be described as “killing Eve” even though Eve didn’t technically die. I take this to mean that she thinks killing Villanelle IS killing Eve in a sense and that scream after she resurfaces the water is one of complete despair at losing the one person who truly understood and accepted her. Eve’s ending was just as tragic as Villanelle’s.

I take her word on Eve’s character over Laura Neal’s, whose only been with these character for 1 full season.

860 notes - Posted April 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Love the the majority of my top posts was me bitching about Killing Eve. That tracks lmao

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #*

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strwberriehore · 3 months

Text

I have a happy feeling that maybe my sister is alive and this was done to hurt my parents for them faking a death over and over again to hurt

I really wan to know hose idea that was, had to be one person that got everyone else on

I think Kelsey , makes me think my aunt is still alive too

My family is shit like without question they happily take their side and hurt me to make kels happy, to the point I’m never surprised when they do things to hurt me, want to shock me? Tell me they said or did something nice for me. I’ll probably think you’re lying!

From now on if I ever have a problem with anything I will always blame and take it out on Kelsey my new punching bag, feels like a new toy 🤣

One thing that I think. Sets me apart and gives me an advantage when fighting is my creepy reaction to pain

One thing that always hurt was my family always being against me and whenever I had a bully they’d happily take their side and hurt me with no hesitation or questioning

Haven’t talked to my family in years and they still do the fake death to hurt me like come on

Can someone please do something similar to them ?

996 norumbega Dr, Monrovia CA that’s where my aunt Tracey Tempel lives, she even teams up with fucking Nicole to hurt me. She’s now a retired old hag , even my cousins children who loved told me how Tracey was mean to them and they were around 8 years old telling me this, fucking children don’t like you Tracey, I remember as a kid thinking the same shit, my mom told me when she was younger Tracey was mean to her too…Tracey the cunt is mean to everyone!! This fucking cunt needs to learn a fucking lesson in not faking deaths, it was fucking cunt Tracey who treated me the worst when that fake hate crime came out and I didn’t notice at first because she’s normally a cunt but then she apologized when she found out it was fake.. like they never communicate with me just blindly believe strangers and do horrible things to hurt me, even if what they were told about isn’t even true since the asshole knows my family doesn’t like me, but that’s why I cut them off

The director in my family…his son in law lives next to cunt Tracey at 995, his name is Troy ford and he hasn’t been too bad to me recently but his wife Kristen who I’m related to and she teaches high school science at Monrovia high and their sons have treated me so bad lately too 😭

My aunt in the wheelchair is a 994, if you see her tell her I love her so much 🥰

Oh I have another cousin..the lawyers, Melanie and Keith ameele, they were nice enough to let me sleep in their home when Tracey and cunt Kristen (her twin) turned me down, but I think they participated in the fake death thing

I know I’m doxxing them to the max 🤣

Actually go fucking swat their asses, faking a death might be hard idk idc make them pay.. you saw them hurt me but that’s just what you saw, you don’t think they’ve been treating me this bad

Even my mom says I wasn’t comforting when her sister when she is still alive… I say no she isn’t and my mom screams in my face that I’m crazy ..no I just caught you dumb old fat mean cunt ! No one can die 4 times bitch

You know what the more I think about it I’m think it was faked for my benefit 🥰🥰🥰 if so then I can’t wait to see everyone’s face when they find out 🤩🤩🤩 I love this is causing them chest pain in their old age, hopefully it’ll trigger a stroke in my mom since they happen on her side or a heart attack for my dad since he already had one his heart should be weak already 😈😈😈

If Katie is doing this for me … how can I repay you ? lol 😆

I gave in and cried because my parents were like damn bitch you don’t care?!?? Like damn okay here you go

Plus this did save me from a forced therapy appointment…

LMFAOOOOO

Plus I’ve been crying over my own shit my real baby that died because Kelsey the man was jealous I did something he couldn’t and just over everything like getting evicted

Oh also I heard my mom tell the cop I gave her chest pains

You fucking cunt that’s from thinking your baby died!!! I didn’t do shit to you??? Fuck I hate you! So I told the cop some weird random extra shit too , two can play that bitch oh my god you’re such a bad person I have to punch you in face my last day here since she hit me twice in less than two weeks I’ve been here

I remember years ago hasan telling me my mom was talking shit about me and it was REALLY bad like she wishes I was never born etc … and I said, ya that’s my mom she’s a cunt , I remember hasan looking sad because I did nothing to provoke her talking bad about me…she just does it even if I don’t see her or talk to her , I found out very quickly the kind of person she is, I mean it’s my mom .. so I accepted that as a child but I always hoped that one day she would change to save our relationship but she never did, our relationship was never worth it to her, so we never had, the way we treat each other now compared to before… well when I was smaller I couldn’t fight back:( but last time we fought I left a hard lump on her forehead and it was bleeding so I think I won that round 😆

You guys…it’s a lot easier to hurt my family than other YouTubers so please have fun making them feel like bad people, make them cry, make them SUFFER

You know what …now I really want to stop saying Katie isn’t dead, I’m going to go in on this, say crap about how it’s so sad she won’t be able to get married etc to worsen my moms pain to further cement this event and pain , they say the worst death you can experience is losing your child

It didn’t take long for me to connect certain things , I assumed being asked about politics was connected to hasan which you can’t blame me for lol

Omg ya if anyone is mad at me please take it out on my mom and dad and aunt Tracey , they’ve been the WORST .

Okay now I’m tracking the past few months when someone vaguely texted me out of nowhere with no context about my family saying they were bad and abandoned me or something, it was months ago…the. After that I noticed other things but I haven’t spent time with my family in 2 years because of their behavior so I didn’t understand

So now I’m actually not as mad at Noel oh my god

Bitches if you don’t tell me what’s going on 😭

And since I’m connecting certain things I actually feel kinda bad about how mean I was to him, I didn’t know he was doing something for me oh my god fuck !!! 😭😭😭 okay ya at least I’m the kind of person once I see what’s happening I feel bad and stop fuck

But I did see other posts that seemed like he was attacking me too…

But if he’s going for that bitch then it cancels out the other shit tbh like to find someone to defend you against someone is amazing but so hard if the person that hurt you is your mom like most people stop when it comes to family, I wish there was another word to call them… but if you hack them you’ll see why I say I never had a family, they have room for me but just don’t want me around , that’s fine and make me appreciate the fact my sister won’t visit them 🥰 Melanie’s kids NEVER met Katie and that’s Katie’s choice, the kids want to meet her so bad,

Maybe Katie was smart to not visit them…I did to escape my dad even though they treated me bad, obviously being around my mom isn’t

Okay ya I said protection/safety was the most important thing to me so you do that and ya got me

Even when I got here the first week my mom wouldn’t stop talking about how her sister died like BITCHHH and it’s kinda obvious by her reaction when I truthfully point out she’s alive and I caught her lie..she still won’t drop the act. I fucking. Hate her

But please try to relate to being cornered and attacked and alone . You kinda start to just blindly attack to protect yourself since it felt like I had to be the one to do that, I couldn’t just sit back and take it, no way I’m going down without a fight unlike dahmer , interesting to think how he did literally nothing when beat to death, just took it, almost kinda scary , imagine someone not reacting to torture. I might google

Ya NorCal home might’ve been closer to Cody but I wasn’t going to fucking hangout with a fucking pedo that also is physically/verbally/emotionally abusive until then…

Ya my mom is satan wearing an ugly mask but i fucking hate choosing between two evils….

Winter is bad with dad he will threaten to kill me and has shoved my head into a for adjusting the temperature because I was freezing or bought a room heater that made his bill go up

I remember begging for years for a lock on my door, Katie had one years before I did, got one around 18 so I got another room to sprint to and lock if he gets mad

Oh and every time my mom defends dad I remind her of that time I was in high school and they were arguing in the kitchen and he suddenly grabbed her by the hair, dragged her to the bedroom and beat her, I saw a bruise on her arm the next day. And brought it up when I saw it and she admitted to what I saw. Now she acts like that didn’t happen and pretends he’s a loving father.

I might go to the police station tomorrow to report the cop that came by tonight he was a typical cunt pig cop , hope his next traffic stop is his last lol oh and to make a police against holly too for being g such a fucking cunt and calling the police over and over again for nothing.. she attacked me for trying to eat a jello cup… screamed I should be in bed and started hitting me??? When we go up to NorCal again I’ll beat her ass since that’s not her home she won’t feel as entitled as she does here with the wanna sleep outside bullshit… I can’t fucking wait to beat this cunts face in, since she’s old her skin is a lot more fragile than mine so it’s easy to make her bleed and she’s diabetic so her wounds heal slower than normal leaving her much more susceptible to infections …until then I will silently do small things to hurt her, earlier I spit a few times in her pillow so hopefully she’ll have fun brushing her hair later, sometimes I empathize with my mom and I feel bad because she’s been through a lot, but to punish me for it? And to literally never show me the same empathy. She wants me to act like I love her and be obedient after she treats me like shit and is confused when I reject her, first few years she moved out and I never talked to her and she asked why I always ignored her…you treat me like shit a a child so I hate you as an adult . She keeps getting chances to protect me but always chooses to hurt me instead, whatever benefits her the most I guess, she wants to look good for strangers and make them happy instead in fear they will go after her, she always expected me to not take anything she did to hurt me personally and would say you’re young you’ll forget this, I even told her a situation where she said that and hurt and there was over a 10 year gap… bitch neither of us forget, I even repeated myself verbatim saying how when I’m older I won’t forget this and I won’t forgive you and it will ruin our relationship forever” and I told her over 10 years later that I still meant every word, makes me think she was so careless and evil to me with the back thought…it’s okay she won’t remember this . I think my memory goes back to 4 or 5, maybe 5 , my moms so fucking dumb I think she thought my memory wouldn’t develop til like 8 or something crazy because she told she was 8 which scares me because usually if you can’t remember your childhood it’s because of abuse your brain is protecting you from knowing. I was wondering why I couldn’t remember large gaps like random years were missing in my childhood, I remember kindergarten and first grade but I have NO MEMORY of second… not even the teacher or where I was … nothing… I do remember getting a scary feeling of “waking up” in maybe third grade? And being scared I had no memory of the past several months, I had friends but I had no idea who they were and after I “woke up” they said I was a different person, I think that’s when my year long blackout ended and if I check dates that’s when my dad and babysitter were hurting me, I blacked out a. Entire year because of the abuse, horrific to suddenly feel like you woke up from a coma and your in a classroom and you have relationships but you don’t know their names since it wasn’t you , I read it’s amnesia, I want to look more into this but it’s VERY different from just forgetting, I was sober (I was 8) and with normal forgetting you don’t lose a year of your life and not know your teachers name or your friends names and completely change personalities after waking up. I think after I woke up is when the trauma started to show like the ripping my skin off, during the blackout it seemed I was normal like nothing was wrong and you wouldn’t know I was blacked out honestly dead the entire time and had good friends, after I lost them since I was a different person after I woke up . I’ve always been confused and scared by that intense amnesia…

I had the same teacher and friends for months and I had no idea who they were or their names or anything and I was wondering how people knew my name, I remember kids telling me what I did the week before and i told them that didn’t happen and now I wonder if Steph was right about telling me I was stealing literally everyone’s scissors, like no one had any but I had one, I have no memory of that but I remember being confronted about it, I wonder if I did it on “autopilot” maybe my brain was turned off from all the trauma

Remember when I said my dad yelled at me before a nursing test and I failed… a year later took same test didn’t study and got an A… but I wasn’t getting screamed at. That was the difference. Trauma makes your brain stop working , it literally paralyzes you , you literally can’t do anything, your brain controls everything and when someone else turns it off makes sense you can’t walk speak think etc.. I even read of people losing their sight or hearing for a while as a response to emotional pain like losing sight for a short time after seeing your dead baby . I think something like that happened to me, I remember a year ago maybe? Maybe two but I think one idk I went up north to get my stuff and when I saw my dad it was just a dark figure instead of a person, kinda scared me to see that tbh

0 notes

laylab2cool · 6 months

Text

i wish you would’ve seen me 🧼

she said it should’ve been the last straw

that july night when i was gone

for twenty seven hours

little did she know i had already been gone since February

me and him played it off like it wasn’t a disaster

like the whole world kept spinning, and we never corresponded like we did before

when he would’ve done anything for me

upsept listen

or call me back

i never told him that i was scared

i was scared of loosing him again

that i cried every single night

about the terrible things he did

that i scrubbed every inch of myself off in the shower still feeling like the dirtiest thing on planet earth

that i saw gods end five times in the last two years

one of them landing me in the hospital

and rehab

learning how to cope without you

and about you

i was shown that you were the exact root of my problems

my emptiness, cruelty, and anger

that how you could hurt a little girl with things she had no control over couldn’t haunt you as much as it did me

i thought the things you did to me were the worse part

but what i did after was even worse

i wish you could’ve been there for the scars

all four of them left on a canvas i’m stuck with

i wish you could’ve been there for the pills

when i was trying to fix something you weren’t even sure of

i wish you could’ve been there for the sex

something i could never re-do or fix, something you took that never should’ve been given to you in the first place

i wish you could’ve seen my mothers face as i told her the crimes you cut deep into my cheeks and jaw

i wish you could’ve watched me lying on the bedroom floor with nothing but a empty bottle for ten hours

god made me lucky

i wish you could’ve seen me shut your door as i ran down the 6th floor crying

i wish you looked into my eyes as you said that bullshit about jesus and our future

knowing straight after i’d be a pointless part of twenty-twenty-two

i wish you could’ve been in therapy everyday with me while i was recovering from the thoughts you pour into my mind, left wondering why it had to be me and not jill

you liked jill

you should’ve seen me on the bridge

you should’ve seen the cop grab my hand and tell me it wasn’t worth it all

to get away from you

you should see me searching for something i don’t know

throwing away the people i love the most just so any trace of your existence can’t reach me

you ruined it all

i think you should hurt a little more now

i wish you could’ve seen me

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lovestuckyhatemarvel · 7 months

Text

Woooo, let’s keep going.

1.) “Hey there.” Hey, Nancy.

2.) Steve frees himself by biting.

3.) I know people love to make Eddie horny about the bite and swing and like, they’re right.

4.) The wounds actually aren’t that bad.

5.) Rabies are scary but it does take a while for symptoms to set in.

6.) Steve’s job this season has been at least 70% saying shit that will be disproven immediately afterward.

7.) Say it with me: torture doesn’t work. And also why would this agent have the exact location anyway?

8.) How many times are we gonna see this stupid can of coke?

9.) Oh Owens sort of has a spine.

10.) Usually people aren’t so easily defined but sometimes they are. El is not a monster but you are, Brenner.

11.) “This place is not a prison, this is,” Brenner says as he taps El’s head. Okay I rolled my eyes hard enough I remembered I haven’t eaten yet today and I paused the show to eat. I cannot keep watching this moron on an empty stomach. I refuse. Oh dear fucking god. This episode is 1 hour and 41 minutes???? I have an hour and a half left oN THIS EPISODE?? FUCK YOU.

12.) idk why Bremer thinks it’d be bad to be like, “You didn’t massacre a bunch of kids.” Unless he actually is stupid enough to think she did it.

13.) Dustin is a terrible liar. And while lying to the cops is technically a crime, it is morally right.

14.) Steve is not fine, he’s falling over.

15.) Duffers, I do not want Steve and Nancy to date again and you ca’t make me.

16.) How’d Eddie manage to climb up that fallen tree without stepping on a vine but now needs to be extra careful climbing down?

17.) ‘FOr your modesty, dude’. Jealous.

18.) I love Steve in the vest and so does Eddie.

19.) Hopper wishing wistfully for El to come into her own while she’s in a place with Brenner is so sad.

20.) “Maybe I can still help El, even if it’s the last thing I do.” Hopper is the reason why I think El has to survive this show. For him. Because Hopper needs to know he’s not cursed. Because he doesn’t deserve to have another daughter die.

21.) Murray and Yuiri do not look THAT much alike, y’;all.

22.) Two, maybe don’t make yourself an obvious target.

23.) That was fucked up. Torturing kids is evil.

24.) All 3 saved Steve but Eddie’s the one Steve narrows in to thank.

25.) Steve is so pleased to find out Dustin bragged about him. Eddie thinks Steve is a good dude. That’s like, huge praise from Eddie.

26.) I feel bad for the Duffers trying to even have Eddie be like ‘soooo Nancy and you?’ And almost none of the fans were like ‘yes, Steve and Nancy.’ Straight guys don’t stand this close together usually, guys. And they usually don’t stare into each other’s eyes.

27.) Thank God, the earthquake interrupted the script desperately trying to hook up a couple that doesn’t work.

28.) Erica found gay porn under Lucas’ bed, right?

29.) I love Lucas and Erica.

30.) Wait is it now being decided that El opening a gate requires contacting a monster in the Upside Down????

31.) No guns and Nancy figures out they’re in the past, specifically November 6th, 1983.

32.) Steve hears Dustin. Because they’re buddies. Flipping the switch does something. There’s now shimmery light on the chandelier.

33.) Eddie knows SOS. <3

34.) Wow, RUDE, Dustin.

35.) MURRAY STOP PLAY ACTING IN THE FUCKING CELL. OH MY GOD.

36.) Okay they’ve never met Yuri before.

37.) Murray is so fucking worried and he should be. Oh, Joyce recognizes that sound.

38.) IDK why the other kids are blaming El. Brenner literally said she didn’t talk. Two gave himself away by being a moron.

39.) CHESS. I one time started to learn Chess on a Simmons board and never was as good on a normal board as I was on that.

40.) WHY DO THE OTHER KIDS HATE EL SO FUCKING MUCH????? WHY HAS BRENNER BEEN PLANNING IT??????? NONE OF THE RAINBOW ROOM SHIT MAKES ANY GODDAMN SENSE.

41.) This better be Henry lying because if not, this isn’t Brenner playing chess, this is a pigeon shitting on a chessboard.

42.) Damn, they covered that board fast.

43.) Eddie and Steve commiserating on Dustin being a butthead.

44.) My roommate reminded me that there are syndication rules and so the reason the seasons are so breakneck and short in terms of episode numbers is so the show isn’t available for syndication. That’s why we’re getting a full ass movie length episode every episode this season. So Netflix can screw people.

45.) BIKES. Steve should be wincing when he moves though, let alone biking.

46.) Max is the best.

47.) “Oh, pigs, oh PIGS. Let Officer Callahan in.” One, who are you calling pig, pig? Two, are you comparing yourself to the big bad wolf?

48.) Erica MY NEW FAVORITE CHILD. DID YOU SLASH A COP’S TIRE? I’VE NEVER BEEN PROUDER.

49.) Four bikes.

50.) Is no one monitoring the cameras here?

51.) Has anyone done an AU where Henry was genuine in his help?

52.) Let’s see how bad this CGI demogorgon is. But of course the lighter isn’t working.

53.) FOr a demogorgon that is being routinely fed, this one looks scrawny. Also yeah, the CGI is bad.

54.) Okay why would the guard open the door, Murray? There’s a monster that will kill him.

55.) Of course the fire goes out just as the door is closing.

56.) nICE THROW, HOP.

57.) Aw, Hopper and Joyce reunited.

58.) How fucking close to the trailer park is Creel house????

59.) Bada Bada Boom. The gate is open and they can care each other.

60.) I just realized I don’t know why El was in a hospital gown this entire time? None of the other kids wear one.

61.) Henry goes from ‘powers blocked’ to ‘complete control’ in like 10 seconds.

62.) Eddie why did you bring up the stains? Also those are huge. Are you just jerking off directly onto your bed????

63.) Robin and then Eddie. Try not to stare at Eddie’s ass, Steve. And then Nancy does get to falling, but falls into a vision. Wait how is she standing on the ground again?

64.) Oh now she sees Barb in the pool. This is the first time she’s seen this though. So Nancy seeing this now makes sense. She would now know it’s the pool. I just don’t think any of them know until this season though.

65.) El literally missed so much murder hiding in a closet. And now she’s going down the very flickers hallways to find the Rainbow Room completely decimated. She literally missed ALL the murders except for Two’s.

66) Why is Henry so powerful? How did he even get his powers? What even is his motivation????? Why does this character make no goddamn sense?????

67.) Sweet of Vecna to give Nancy a full villain hallucination backstory. Are we literally trying to say Henry/Vecna/One was a child psychopath or something? Why was there a nest of black widows in a vent? What’s this got to do with anything? God, this character is dumb and pretentious.

68.) ?????? I’d argue black widows also operate under the wake up, work, eat, reproduce, sleep, die cycle even more than humans do.

69.) Okay so he was just an evil child. An evil, judgmental child. Why? Because fuck you, that’s why.

70.) Why would killing people make him stronger???

71.) Literally why would Henry think Eleven is better than the rest of the kids?????

72.) Why would El need to think about any memories other than the fucking DOZENS OF CORPSES SHE’S GONE PAST?

73.) fucking what????????? Is El REMEMBERING BEING BORN? FUCKING WHAT? I’M SORRY. WHAT? I FUCKING HATE THIS SHOW. THIS IS SO STUPID. I CAN’T BELIEVE THE THING THAT HELPS HER BEAT HENRY THE FIRST TIME IS REMEMBERING HER OWN GODDAMN BIRTH. Also! HEY, not to be a party pooper BUT NEWBORNS CAN’T REALLY FUCKING SEE MORE THAN 6 INCHES AWAY FROM THEIR GODDAMN FACE.

74.) Honestly how did Henry/Vecna/One survive El doing that? Like he’s just falling around in the sky and getting struck by lightning too???? None of this makes any goddamn sense. Not even in this world.

75.) YEAH, I KNOW HENRY IS VECNA. YOU DIDN’T NEED TO SHOW THE TATTOO. Although. How does he still have the tattoo and why is it bigger? God, you guys really think 14 year olds are morons.

I need too take a break from this show. It’s so stupid. Oh my god.

#stranger things #Stranger things rewatch #season 4 episode 7 #s4e7 #stranger things s4e7

0 notes

castle-dominion · 10 months

Text

5x4 murder he wrote

these girls are amazing I love them my gal is just watching the clock RC: But there will be plenty of that this weekend GIRL SHUSH his whispers are great KB: (sigh) Wow, Castle. Thank you for reminding me that I’m lying to a bunch of people that I really care about so I don’t get fired on an ethics violation ‘cause I’m dating you.

KR, v loud: Hey Castle! RC: *there is no meme for the face I am thinknig of* Ryan's outfit "her boyfriend" "give uss sss ss something!"

Wow hella nice place

JE: Why would Beckett be holding out on us? KR, sounding genuine: Maybe there’s something wrong with the guy. Maybe he’s bad news. ((They care abt her)) JE, using it as an excuse: Well, then as her partners, it’s our obligation to find out who this guy is. KR: And what kind of partners would we be if we didn’t? Her safety could be at stake. JE: Exactly, and with no active murder case going on, I say we use this time to find him. ((They also,, just are curious lol))

KB: So uh, are you rich or smth? Holy this place is huge & nice

What's up with her though? Is she ok? complete privacy? already poured himself a drink? Wow she's tanned this episode.

UGH THE MUSIC IS SO SO GOOD Ooh becket, wowie

HOLY CRAP THIS MAN IS BLEEDING & DROPPING SAND I mean of course, this is a murder show Hey I only just noticed, we didn't get a teaser

I like Brady. What kind of arrangement? She's hot enough ig? & I'm sure castle had met this police chief fellow before

Watch a lot of cop shows do we? Shapiro?

becks is maaaad

castle is going into crime solving mode XD

Nice wooden table, reminds me of the altar in my fnmi church

they just want to have sex but they love the story they want justice lmao the party was killer XD

Green screen it looks like

[10:48, INT. PRECINCT, AUTOPSY – DAY] [Ryan and Esposito follow Lanie around her lab.] LP: Beckett’s boyfriend? Don’t you two have something better to do? JE: Actually, no. ((like balancing the egg)) KR: We figured Beckett must have started up with the guy during her suspension. JE: A pretty emotional time for her. I bet she needed a shoulder to lean on. KR: An ex. JE: It would explain why she’s too embarrassed to tell us who it is. It makes her look weak. KR: We’re thinking the most likely scenario is that it was the last guy that she was with. JE: Dr. Joshua Davidson. KR: Mm-hmm. JE: It’s him, isn’t it? LP: Okay, I get that you don’t have a life, Javi, but you’re married, Kevin, so what’s your excuse? KR: I— LP: Whoever Beckett’s boyfriend is, is none of your business. JE: Come on, Lanie. You must know who it is. She went back to Josh, didn’t she? LP: Is this how you interrogate people? ‘Cause you ain’t doing nothing but pissing me off. ((I love her)) [Esposito reels his expression back in.] LP: Now I don’t know who it is, and I respect Beckett’s privacy, but I do know it’s not Josh, because he’s been in the Amazon setting up free clinics for the last year. JE: Are you sure about that? [Lanie gives him an annoyed look.] KR: I think she’s sure. JE: Yeah. [Ryan’s cell rings.] KR: Hey, Castle. Yeah, I’m gonna put you on speakerphone so you can weigh in on this. ((brings castle into their convo instead of whatever castle was calling for initially)) RC: (on speaker phone) Weigh in on what? KR: (on speaker phone) Well, we’re in the morgue with Lanie trying to figure out who Beckett’s boyfriend is. ((So becks knows that her partners apparently try to look into her personal life, & even try to get castle in on it. The boys totally could have used the excuse that since she wasn't telling them they were mildly concerned)) [Beckett straightens up in her chair in fear.] LP: (on speaker phone) I have nothing to do with this nonsense. [Lanie walks off and hits Esposito on her way out.] RC: Yeah, until you’re bagging their mangled bodies when Beckett finds out. [Beckett smirks.] JE: (on speaker phone) Pfft. Like we’re afraid of Beckett. (chuckles) [Beckett purses her lips.] KR: (on speaker phone) Besides, how’s she gonna find out? [Beckett grabs for the phone angrily, but Castle snatches it off of the base first before she can blow their secret.]

poison with a gun lmao

that is like,, magenta not blood red-- wait nvm castle not normal to say! You could have said "It must be hard to be the last one to see him alive, are you doing ok?"

Yeah he barely needed to pressure her at all lol

so right, he is NOT close friends with the chief

hooker friend XD & now rick has another arrest on his record.

oh no this poor guy hasn't worked homicide before...

Making a deal! Nice! two hours in here? "relax" lmao He's going to learn how to solve homicides!

Oh no, if the precinct finds out... that would be less than good

bad coffee or good coffee?

He does indeed have friends in robbery, this is a plot point that has been mentioned before

KB: Why are you even helping them? are they trying to find a ship name? Yeah we know their ship name. (tho consistency is nice. I personally prefer kevenny over kevjen & esparish over esplanie, & rickate is fine but caskett is better... you should see my table/chart of ship names lol.)

lol just deputy jones <3 (what if it was him?)

in the ocean FOR 20 mins?

they are so hot for each other I love this meth guy lol he is crazed out

A red shark with red eyes? reminds me of that holmes novel with the LERNER I KNOW THAT NAME

Oof all that rope

I keep forgetting non-natives usually don't use "deadly" Oh wow I just googled it & apparently it is also used by australian aboriginals too, not just us up here in canada & probably the rest of north america, (but probs only english speaking parts in the americas)

Love how the police chief is just sitting there while these two are doing most of the interviewing

Group therapy? Or weight loss

exactly from 8.30 to 10?

It's going to be the chief himself lol Castle's face when he heard that name

Oh hey Sal! We know sal!

No contacting vinnie the scar! *cut to vinnie toasting salud* Yeah a surprising amount of people can't cook This has been a great way to slip into it

VC: Ooh, see, that’s the difference between Castle and me. You’ve had my complete attention since I’ve been here, sweetheart. RC: Whoa, whoa. Watch it, Vinnie. Don’t make me have to do to you what someone did to your neighbor. VC: Oh, you heard about that, huh? RC: Heard about it? The guy ended up in my pool!

castle no you went too far! You should have given a different route! You also maybe could have offered him to take home his leftovers even though the evening went poorly & you could have said you hoped time would heal this bump in the road.

solving murders is like foreplay for them. I say this about detective murdoch & doctor ogden too

Give him some linguine to make things up... Outing them is a good threat "He said he already ate" she probably heard the convo hun

Ooh nice place there! All dirty & gross! Flashlights! No vests. Also turn your phone on silent idiot sounds to me like the place is going to blow up heavy door...

WHO'S THAT? GOSH THEY HAVE A GUN Holy crap they took him down! Gosh ryan went in that direction & probs didn't see this individual here, thank goodness esposito came in right after & knocked him Wow ryan is yelling. & the other guy is just still there? & espt leaves him? wait no he takes the gun Wearing a lot of stuff rn. ppe But dang they are coughing a ton. ryan mr ex drug cop

He used to do what? Cook the books? I forget what he did & idk what that means naked by the pool? they switched places, now the one trying to be sexy & is the one worried about the murder "exactly" he says about the murder & drug case & then pulls her close

Ryan & esposito look pretty but I'm not interested in taking a pic, I'm tired maybe I will clip this tho bc the way ryan stops in front of espt ooh

Good to have your lawyer making back to making crank lol ryan is so good in this interrogation I love love it whu what do you mean girlfriend? Hey! Hey! I’ll ask the questions here,

brown but almost blonde nowadays, & I think her eyes might be hazel body type? Hot. That's how ryan knows it's beckett lol. KR: Son of a gun

KR, sitting chill, feet up (so we get to see his nice shoes): You were right, Castle. Franklin was using his helicopter to move meth to the Hamptons. Looks like you blew this case wide open. Guess you can get back to your writing now, huh? & then kate in the room frantic & "are you still there?" RC: Uh, what else did Aaron Lerner say? Did he say anything else about… anything else? KR: Oh, you know, the usual. “I didn’t do it. You got the wrong guy.” I’m pretty sure he told me everything he knows. He is SO toying with them KR, smug smile still on his face: Yeah. Good luck with the writing. *hangs up immediately*

why did he go to open the door & then,, close it? Good. But why are you telling them? Oh honour of being at the arrest

Ooh he has his gun out! Nice! I'm lucky! & plot armour

I mean, yeah, these knots are the way they go. Knots are the same. The only difference would be maybe left handed vs right handed. Oh the knot wasn't the right knot, nvm

I called it! It was the chief! OR NOT HOLY CRAP I mean... yeah *hides behind beckett* BRADY TOOK A SHOT! RC: Sorry about the whole “accusing you of murder”…still buddies? Brady: Yeah...

toast to you! Oh now they are waiting for him to leave. Hot tip "Well I shouldn't keep you, we'd better let you go, but let me walk you to the door"

Oh crap I forgot I was going to mention it's neat to have fbi contacts & we get to see ppl making use of these contacts

(also ryan's shirt looks like it was not ironed... I hate ironing & think that we as a society should stop caring about wrinkles, I just think it is an interesting fact)

JE: Well, the case in the Hamptons has been solved, but the case of the secret boyfriend remains open. Turns out Beckett’s FBI ex has been stationed in Europe for six months. KR: Huh. JE: What? You got anything? [Ryan turns around to face Esposito, and leans back in his chair, considering for a moment.] KR: Nah. No, I was just thinking, maybe we should drop it. [Esposito’s brow furrows in surprise.] KR: You know, let Beckett’s private life stay private. JE: What, you mean give up? (scoffs) A real detective never gives up on a case, bro. KR: You know it’s not a real case, right? JE: You’re gonna tell me what a real case is? KR: Uh, last time I checked, it’s when there was a murder. JE: Oh, there’s been a murder all right. Your spirit. KR: Wow. [They grab their coats and head out.] JE: Your dignity, too. KR: Huh. Well, you know what, just for that, the first round’s on you. JE: Yeah, good luck with that. [They greet a co-worker passing by.] JE: Bruce. KR:Bruce.

Ah bruce. Name for this guy now.

the story is not the hardest part... I mean sometimes it is... the idea at least is easiest. Sometimes making the story make sense is hard. But then it's the sitting down & working that is the hardest part. the music Lots of candles too, I hope they are not too close bc she has hair oh gosh they are on the bedframe what if they have rigorous sex & it makes them fall? I mean they could be into wax play ig...

cute af & I'm even 20 minutes early!

#castle 5x4 #castle 5x4 quote #castle 5x4 spoilers #the hamptons episode

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novaauster · 2 years

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Cracking Open An Old One With The Girls

“We’re really doing this,” I say. It was my idea, but still. It’s not like I’m the expert on how things work, Chrysan is the high priest here, but I have some responsibility, right? I haven’t just started an avalanche and let it bury us all?

Not that any avalanches could reach us in the canyon. It’s really more just rockslides, which the fae tend to sense in the windsound and fly over. They might leave me behind, though, and I’d end up burying myself all alone.

Chrysan spits on the dirt while she sorts out a language I can understand. I appreciate it. “Yes, we are. The Wind gave you wings, now they are gone and we must rent a truck. You can drive, yes?”

“Uh, sort of.” Technically my license is only provisional, meaning I can drive one other person and not after 9 PM, but since the fae tend to attack all humans encroaching on the canyon, including cops, we’ll be safe once we get there. Besides, traffic violations are the least of our crimes.

We’re committing insurance fraud.

Ray, fae king and notorious skeptic, eyes me with reflective orange pupils and hisses out of the side of her mouth. Chrysan translates. “She thinks you are lying. Perhaps that is why the Wind let your wings collapse.”

“Whoa there.” I hold my sunburned hands up like I could defend myself even a little bit from two fullgrown magical bat-winged women. “You’re not supposed to theorize why the Wind does stuff, right? It’s, uh, blasphemy, if I remember correctly…” I’m a fucking idiot for accusing a high priest of blasphemy, but desperate times, “and maybe It only wanted me to have wings while in the canyon, so I could keep up. That also makes sense.”

Chrysan translates that to the king, her voice pitching down into rockslide territory as the sentence went on. I feel the accusal in my bones, and mine aren’t even hollow like hers. Not that her bones are fragile, or that any part of a fae is fragile. I’ve gone on a whole life-changing journey with these two, but that just means that I know what they’re capable of. Let’s just say that the Wind, as a god, doesn’t promise salvation or forgiveness.

I mean, it’s wind. It’s literally weather. That includes natural disasters.

I’m a natural disaster, and I can’t handle this silence. I take the shitty overpriced fake crystals out of my cargo pants pockets (desperate times call for desperate fashion choices) and set them on the ground in a little circle. Chrysan looks at me like I just broke every single piece of fine china in her grandmother’s fancy cabinet, not that I know if she has a grandmother or eats off plates in general. “So, do we actually need these or would they be, like, insulting?”

“Insulting,” Chrysan says shortly, and sweeps them back towards me with a rust-colored wing. I carefully crouch down and pick them up.

I put a hand on the pocket that my phone, at worryingly low battery, resides, but I don’t take it out. “What do I record for the insurance evidence? Do we have to wait for the Wind’s consent to be perceived?” That would be fair.

“Wait until I give you directions.”

Ray adds something, this time a whirr that would be better suited to a grasshopper than any recognizable language. Chrysan translates “And do not attempt to perceive It yourself. You would be… damaged.”

“Oh,” I squeak. “Okay.”

Despite all my overstretched survival instincts, I’m still kind of curious. Not enough to get my brain melted, but enough to get a jitter of excitement along with my paralyzing anxiety at the thought of examining the footage Chrysan allows me to get.

And just imagine what the pyramid-scheme crystal vendor will think once he has to reimburse us for selling improperly labeled equipment. We’ll get the best truck on the market. We’ll even get a hotel room for once. A shower, maybe, so I can stop being caked in enough dust that I don’t really look all that different from the rock-camouflaged fae. It’ll be glorious.

“Hide behind that tree over there,” Chrysan gestures to a pathetic husk of a Joshua tree, “And stay back.”

#yet another poem #is the tag I'm putting here #though it's really more #creative writing

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mothbug · 3 years

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benny objectively the best dnd character of all time

#really into wildlife and poetry and WOMENS HONKERS #Uh oh i’m an ecoterrorist he he ^-^#thinking abt her in her cute overall skirt with little flowers in her hair DRENCHED IN BLOOD yet again . she’s so funny #buys a book on the ethics of robotics for a laugh #i am an innocent 2 or 20 or 50 year old robot who only wants to act and be happy :(#INVENTED BRUNCH ON ACCIDENT. took a woman she has a crush on to go see her wanted poster #her backstory. well. i will not dare to speak of it on this blog for there are some BITCHES here who would SEE it smh #oh benediximus how i love you . i can’t believe i started playing her as so intimidating but she’s never killed anyone. she is a beast tho #i’ve written poetry in character that’s how you know she has charmed me to the core <3 #i don’t think she knows lying to cops is a crime but it is her favorite activity #dnd

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hamsterclaw · 2 years

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Duplicity

Yoongi lies as easily as he tells the truth, until he meets someone he doesn't want to lie to.

Pairing: Yoongi x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Non-idol police AU, smut, angst

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: Sexually explicit scenes, explicit language, violence

Dear reader, this is the second part of a trilogy in the same AU, the first part, Rage, features Jimin and the third part, Soft, features Jungkook. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Min Yoongi lies as easily as he tells the truth. A woman once told him about the rush of guilt she felt when she was deliberately duplicitous, the uptick in her heart rate, the innate urge to look away. He’s never felt that.

He knows what people look like when they’re lying though. It’s a skill that came in useful as a rookie detective and that he’s still using on the daily now that he has his own team. He’s often asked to investigate dirty cops, and there’ve been a few of those lately.

Yoongi’s on his way home after an exhausting day. The sister of the woman he’d been in love with, years ago, had got caught up in an explosion downtown. Thankfully she’d been unharmed. His best detective, Park Jimin, is taking care of her, in his capacity as her boyfriend.

Yoongi just wants to get home and get into bed. He’s unlocking his door when the door to the apartment two doors down bangs open. Yoongi looks at his hand holding the key in the lock. He could just turn his hand 90 degrees and his door would open, and just beyond it, is his apartment. His bed.

Yoongi hears a slap, skin on skin, and, stifling a sigh, he turns his head.

There’s a man, around his height, standing over a woman. They seem to be arguing furiously, which Yoongi thinks is probably pointless given they’ve resorted to physical contact to get their points across.

Yoongi hates domestic disputes. He hates the way the system lets recipients of domestic violence down. Last week he’d had to convince a pregnant 15-year-old who’d been strangled by her older boyfriend that she hadn’t asked for it, no matter what she’d said to provoke him.

The man shoves the woman against the wall, hand around her neck.

‘Hey,’ Yoongi calls. ‘Stop that.’

The man doesn’t immediately comply, which is why Yoongi flashes his badge.

‘Come on,’ Yoongi says. He walks up to the couple.

The man looks at Yoongi. Yoongi looks back, impassive. A part of him revels in the idea of the man coming for him. He’s already enjoying the image of the man’s face covered in blood from the broken nose Yoongi’s going to give him.

Yoongi isn’t as zen as Jimin thinks he is, he’s just learned to hide his emotions better.

The man drops his hand and walks away.

Yoongi turns to you. He’s not expecting to be thanked, but he wants to know if you’ve got any injuries that need attention.

You look up at the man who’s just intimidated away your (now ex-) boyfriend.

‘Thanks,’ you say.

Yoongi nods. ‘Don’t let him in to your apartment again. Strangling is a high-risk indicator for future mortality in domestic violence cases.’

You just look at him, so Yoongi says, ‘A man who tries to strangle you when he’s angry is two steps from killing you.’

‘No, I understand,’ you say. ‘I just wasn’t expecting you to save me then quote domestic violence statistics at me.’

Yoongi’s not sure how to take that. ‘Well anyway. Be careful.’

He’s turning to walk back to his apartment when you say, ‘I’m Y/N L/N.’

‘Min Yoongi,’ Yoongi replies. He glances at you just before stepping into his apartment. You’re still there, looking at him.

Yoongi steps inside and closes the door behind him.

***

Yoongi’s bored, but thankfully his bored face is no different from any of his other faces. He’s grateful to his parents for his lack of expression.

Jeon Jungkook, one of his detectives, is reporting back preliminary information from a murder. Yoongi had been at the crime scene with him, and had left for a pointless meeting because the victim turned out to be a relative of a higher up in city hall.

It was a strangulation, and unbidden, you pop into his head. He wonders if you’ve kept your resolve about not allowing that man back into your apartment, into your life.

His attention wanders and is caught by the tiny silver balls in Jungkook’s right eyebrow, another dress-code violation.

‘Can you attend the post-mortem, Detective Jeon,’ Yoongi says, suddenly.

Jungkook visibly blanches. He’s one of the better detectives Yoongi has, not as seasoned as Park Jimin, but he’s got impressive physicality. And an impressively weak stomach.

Jungkook looks imploringly at Yoongi. ‘Jimin’s better at that sort of thing.’

‘Jimin’s got a few witness interviews to conduct,’ Yoongi lies smoothly.

Jungkook doesn’t look happy about it, but he agrees.

Yoongi goes back to working the angles of the case in his head. It’s a mental exercise, one he’s got more used to doing now that he’s a step removed from detective work.

After work he goes for a run. He’s in the lifts in his apartment building after his run when he hears scrambling for the doors.

Yoongi contemplates hitting the door close button but he catches sight of your face and changes his mind.

You’re not alone. You’re holding hands with a girl who looks around 5, who has your eyes.

Yoongi regards you both silently.

‘Hi. This is my daughter, Mara,’ you say.

Yoongi nods. Jesus. Had the girl been in the apartment whilst that man had his hand around your throat?

You’re looking at him carefully. ‘She spends alternate weekends with her dad, my ex-husband.’

Yoongi feels slightly guilty that you’ve so clearly picked up on his judgement. Maybe he’s slipping. He knows that usually people find him difficult to read.

Mara looks at him, curiously.

Yoongi looks anywhere but the two sets of eyes that are burning into him. He waits politely for both of you to exit the lift before he does.

‘Thanks again for the other day,’ you say.

You don’t meet his eyes as you and Mara walk past him towards your apartment.

***

Yoongi’s plucking at the keys of his piano on Saturday morning when he hears a knock at his door.

It’s you, and Mara.

Mara’s holding out a plate with cookies on it.

Yoongi’s not such a prick that he can’t return her smile. She brightens at the change in his expression, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees an identical smile on your face.

Jesus. You two are fucking cute.

‘We were making cookies, and we thought you might like to have some,’ you say.

Yoongi accepts the plate Mara’s holding out. ‘Looks good,’ he says, a little lamely.

‘Chocolate chip,’ Mara says, seriously, as though he might not be able to guess.

‘I like chocolate chip,’ Yoongi finds himself saying. He doesn’t. He’s not even a fan of cookies. He’s never been more grateful for his ability to lie effortlessly.

He’d hate to see either of your smiles dim because of him.

‘Enjoy,’ you say. You and Mara are turning away to leave when Yoongi realises he’s not thanked you.

‘Do you want to come in?’ Yoongi asks. ‘I was going to make coffee.’ He looks at Mara hesitantly. ‘I have juice.’

You and Mara exchange a look, silently consulting each other, and Yoongi waits to hear the outcome.

‘Ok, for a bit,’ you say.

Yoongi doesn’t have visitors often, but he’s a bit of a neat freak, so his apartment looks fairly presentable.

He left his leather shoulder holster on the sofa last night, and he can see you looking at it.

‘My gun’s in a gun safe,’ he says, trying to be reassuring.

You look at him, eyes guileless. ‘Oh, it’s a holster,’ you say.

Now Yoongi’s wondering what you thought it was when you saw it.

Yoongi makes coffee for the both of you, and pours out a glass of juice for Mara.

‘Cookie?’ he asks, pushing the plate towards Mara.

Mara looks to you for permission, and you nod.

‘Got plans for the weekend?’ Yoongi asks you, politely.

You sip your coffee. ‘We’re going to the park later,’ you tell him. ‘And yourself?’

Yoongi’s watching Mara inhale the cookie and trying to recall what the emergency algorithm is for saving choking children.

‘She’s fine,’ you say, and once again Yoongi is struck by how easily you seem to read him.

‘No plans,’ Yoongi says. He might visit his friend Namjoon, he’s just returned from a trip out west.

Mara pauses for breath and gulps her juice.

‘Mara, you’re making mama look bad. Uncle Yoongi probably thinks you haven’t eaten all day.’ You look at Yoongi. ‘She likes cookies. I told her she couldn’t have any more until after lunch.’

Yoongi’s too busy processing the fact that you’ve called him Uncle Yoongi to react.

You get up. ‘Come on, baby, let’s go. Thank Uncle Yoongi for having us.’

Yoongi looks at Mara, and there’s that smile again.

‘Thank you for the cookies,’ Yoongi says.

He walks you to the door and watches until the two of you reach your own door before he goes back in.

***

Yoongi’s back from a run, trying to detach his key from his wrist when your door opens.

You’re struggling with a huge trash bag but that’s not the reason why he’s staring at you.

He’s never seen your bare legs before, and he’s been missing out, because damn. You’re not that tall but they’re long, shapely, and he has a sudden urge to follow the line of them up and under the hem of the tiny black dress you’re wearing. With his tongue.

Yoongi ruthlessly shuts down that line of thought. The last thing he wants is for you to think you’re going to be sexually harrassed by your cop neighbour.

If you notice him staring, you don’t make a big deal about it.

‘Hi Yoongi,’ you say. You smile but Yoongi can see you’re not right.

He lifts the trash out of your arms. You protest and for a moment Yoongi almost thinks you’re going to fight him over who’s going to carry your trash five feet to the chute.

‘All ok?’ Yoongi asks. You’d come with him out of politeness, he thinks, rather than being worried he had some sort of fetish for your trash.

Shit. That’s a warped thing to think. He knew all those years he spent working vice would come back to haunt him. There are some real fucking sickos out there.

You nod. ‘Yeah. I had a date but he stood me up.’ You say it matter of factly but your voice is brittle, your eyes a little shiny.

‘Is that so,’ Yoongi says. Fuck what’s wrong with him? Why does he sound like a character in a western? Is this from that time he was undercover in that mountain town investigating that vigilante group?

‘You look pretty,’ Yoongi offers, trying again.

The smile you give him makes him feel more at ease. ‘Thanks. I felt pretty.’

The way you use past tense makes Yoongi feel sad.

‘Do you and Mara want to come over and watch a movie? I was going to order a pizza,’ Yoongi says.

‘Mara’s with her dad,’ you say. You look horrified. ‘I wouldn’t go on a date and leave her if she was with me. And she never met that asshole you saw the other day. I don’t introduce her to any men.’

Yoongi’s not sure how he was supposed to know that. You’d introduced her to him.

‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ Yoongi tells you truthfully. ‘Anyway you’re welcome to come over.’

By the time you knock on his door Yoongi’s showered and ordered the pizza. You’ve changed into a sweater and jeans, but your makeup’s still on and your hair is loose. Yoongi wonders if your hair smells as good as it looks.

‘You can pick the movie,’ he offers, hoping to atone for the lustful thoughts about your legs he’d had in the shower. And the way he’d got off to the mental image of those legs wrapped around his head.

If you sense Yoongi’s inner neanderthal, you show no sign of it. You take a seat on his couch, perusing the options with a seriousness that Yoongi finds rather endearing.

Maybe you do have a sense of self-preservation, though, because you pick a zombie flick, a boner killer if he ever saw one. When the pizzas arrive, you tuck in eagerly, similar to Mara with the cookie last weekend.

Yoongi’s worried that he’s finding all this too cute. That he’s finding you too cute.

‘Who was your date?’ he asks, wincing as one of the survivors is mauled by a zombie crowd.

‘Some guy I met online. We talked a few times on the phone. He didn’t even call to tell me. I would have ordered dinner for myself if I’d known he wasn’t going to show. It was a nice restaurant.’ You sound a little more yourself now, and you smile at him.

‘I waited 45 minutes and by then I was too embarrassed to order anything.’

Yoongi watches as you chew your bottom lip. ‘His loss,’ you say. You seem to be concentrating hard on the shopping mall carnage on the screen.

‘It’s just lonely sometimes. Do you have a girlfriend?’

Yoongi laughs as you clap a hand to your forehead.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,’ you apologise. ‘I’m not propositioning you on your couch when it looks like you’ve had a shitty day too.’

Yoongi’s intrigued. ‘My day was fine,’ he tells you.

‘Now I know you’re lying,’ you say to him. ‘Like you were lying about liking chocolate chip cookies.’

Yoongi doesn’t bother to protest, because he’s more curious by how you can tell he’s lying. No one else has ever called him on it before.

‘Your eyes tell,’ you say, before he can ask.

Yoongi watches you snuggle deeper into the couch. You watch the rest of the movie in silence.

***

Park Jimin is undercover, investigating a sex-trafficking ring run out of a string of seedy nightclubs.

Yoongi looks out at the sunrise. He’s sitting on a park bench, away from Jimin because he reeks of alcohol and cigars.

Jimin is impeccably dressed as always, in a maroon suit. His hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it all night.

‘Fuck. They treat them worse than animals,’ he says. There’s anger in his voice, less than before he took up crochet, but it’s there.

Yoongi passes him the coffee he got him. ‘So take them down, Jimin. Give me what I need to bring them in.’

‘There’s some big client visiting next week,’ Jimin says, tersely. ‘They’re pulling out all the stops for them. I think I’ll have what I need then.’

Yoongi nods. Jimin’s a damn good cop. ‘Let me know if I need to organise a tactical team.’

Jimin sips his coffee. ‘How’s JK?’ he asks.

Yoongi snorts. ‘He isn’t great. His girlfriend broke up with him. He came in yesterday with another piercing, on his lip. Thank god we’re all wearing masks so I can pretend I haven’t noticed it.’

Jimin chuckles. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’ll think of something,’ Yoongi says grimly. ‘I heard he threw up on the medical examiner at the post-mortem.’

Jimin gets up. ‘I’m going to catch some shut eye. Fuck I’m too old for this undercover shit.’

‘How’s your girl?’ Yoongi asks.

Jimim’s frown melts into a smile. ‘She’s great. She’s fucking great.’

‘Remember if you hurt her ——‘

Jimin scoffs. ‘I’m not Jungkook, Yoongi. Firstly, I’d never pierce the perfection of this face and secondly I learned long ago not to provoke Min fucking Yoongi.’

***

Yoongi’s stayed late at work today, updating various teams with progress from Jimin’s investigation. He’s waiting at the lifts when the doors open and you nearly barrel into him.

You’re holding a half-asleep Mara in your arms, and your face is drawn with worry.

You look past him like you can’t even see him. Yoongi says your name, and your eyes meet.

Yoongi skips past asking you if anything’s wrong because something clearly is. ‘What’s happened?’ he asks.

You make a conscious effort to gather your thoughts before speaking. Mara shifts in your arms.

‘My mom. She fell over at home and she’s broken her hip. Her neighbour’s at the hospital with her now but she’s got to leave so I need to be there.’

‘I’ll drive you,’ Yoongi says. He doesn’t want to say he doesn’t think you’re in any fit state to drive given how upset you are, but he can’t in good conscience let you drive yourself.

You stare at him, and Yoongi can see your internal debate. ‘It’s two hours away, Yoongi,’ you say.

‘Where’s your car?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Can you drive a stick?’ you ask.

Yoongi resists the urge to tell you about the time he was seconded to the bundespolizei and drove the wrong way at 130 kilometres an hour on the autobahn out of Bavaria.

‘I can drive you,’ he says, gently.

Yoongi knows the town you need to get to. He’s on his best driving behaviour, trying to impress on you that you can trust him to get you there safely.

He can feel your eyes on him.

‘It’s really kind of you to drive us,’ you say. You still sound worried, and it takes Yoongi a moment to work out you’re worried about him.

‘I’ve calmed down now. We’re not too far away. You can turn back and I’ll drop you off and I can drive.’

You do sound better, calmer, but Yoongi has no intention of letting you drive.

‘Why don’t you try and get some rest?’ Yoongi suggests. He glances at Mara, fast asleep in her car seat.

Your hand on his arm feels really good. Your skin is warm. Yoongi wonders idly if your skin is warm all over.

‘The least I can do is keep you company,’ you tell him.

Yoongi wishes you’d stop worrying about him.

‘I did a lot of nights as a beat cop back in the day,’ Yoongi tells you. ‘I’m used to night driving.’

‘Did you always want to be a policeman?’ you ask.

‘I always did as a kid. I fell out of love with it a little, a few years ago.’ Cara flashes into his mind, and Yoongi sighs. ‘I’m getting back into it now.’

You’re getting sleepy, leaning back against your seat. Your shoulders are finally relaxing for the first time since he met you outside the lifts. Yoongi wonders if it’s his voice. He’s been told his voice is calming.

‘I had a case, a few years ago. I was undercover. It was a drug ring out of Thailand. I was on this side, receiving shipments, transporting.’

Yoongi glances at you in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are closed, face relaxed. You’re asleep. He takes a moment to admire your pretty face.

‘There was this woman, the high school sweetheart of one of the bangers.’

Your breathing is deep, even. Your lips part slightly.

Yoongi had been shot twice getting her out. He’d been closer to death than he’d like to remember.

It’d taken months of physical rehabilitation. His shoulder still aches when the weather’s chilly.

He’s got no regrets about what he did for Cara.

For the first time, he realises that he’d do the same for you, and Mara.

Fuck. He’s got it bad.

***

You stir as Yoongi pulls into the driveway of your mother’s house. You take a moment to orientate yourself. He sees your eyes flit from Mara, to the house and finally to him.

You relax when you see him, and Yoongi likes that.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, voice raspy from sleep. ‘I meant to stay awake.’

Yoongi nods at the house. ‘Do you have keys? I’ll stay with Mara whilst you go to your mom.’

He can see you trying to think.

He kills the engine and you get out, going automatically to the back seat to get Mara.

‘Here. Let me,’ Yoongi says.

He scoops Mara out of her seat. She’s lighter and longer than he expected. She turns her face into his chest, and Yoongi feels an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness. He tries not to think about it too much.

He glimpses a warm, cosy looking living room as he carries Mara through the house, up the stairs.

You lead him to a tiny room, decorated for a girl. Yoongi watches as you pick up a sparkly stuffed unicorn with ridiculous eyelashes, and pulls back the covers. Yoongi lowers Mara into the bed and you tuck her in.

You’re standing so close together in the tiny room Yoongi can feel the warmth of you. You turn to him, and give him a hug.

‘Thank you, Yoongi,’ you say. Your voice is muffled by his coat. Yoongi’s deciding on a respectful place to put his hands when you pull away.

‘My room’s next door, you can sleep there. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Call me if you need to go, ok?’

You’re gone before he realises he hasn’t said anything to you.

Yoongi feels a bit like a voyeur as he looks around your room. He’s not looking for your diary or anything, but he’s too wound up to sleep.

He looks at the pictures on your wall. There are a lot. You’ve always been lovely, to Yoongi you stand out in all of the pictures, with your bright smile and your pretty eyes. There’s a picture of you and a man he assumes is your ex-husband. Yoongi doesn’t see him at all in Mara, she looks just like a smaller version of you.

He opens the closet door. It’s crammed full of clothes, shoes, handbags, athletic gear.

There’s a desk in the corner opposite the double bed, piled with books, and underneath it hiking boots, a backpack.

Yoongi thinks he likes the impression of you he’s got from your room. He’s looking for a charger for his phone. He slides open your bedside drawer.

Fuck.

Now he really does feel like a voyeur.

Yoongi nudges the drawer shut and uses the edge of his sleeve to wipe the handle for prints, like a goddamn criminal.

He shuts his eyes, trying to will away the image of you fucking yourself open with the toy he’s just seen.

His dick has other ideas.

Yoongi gets into bed, trying to ignore the situation in his pants. The sheets smell like you. He buries his face in the pillow and counts backward in 7s from 1000 until he falls asleep.

At first, Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s dreaming still.

There’s an arm around his waist, a face pressed to the centre of his back.

He turns around in the bed. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust.

‘Hey,’ you say. He can’t see enough to read your eyes, but your lips look like you’re smiling at him.

‘Thank you,’ you say. You haven’t moved your arm. It’s still around his waist.

‘Is your mom ok?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Yeah. She’s asleep. She’s having surgery first thing.’

‘Good,’ Yoongi says.

You lean forward and kiss his throat.

Yoongi closes his eyes at the feel of your warm lips. You’re so warm. You work your way up his neck, kissing along his jaw, up to his mouth.

Yoongi has a panicked moment where he can’t remember the last time he brushed his teeth. You don’t seem to mind, though. You’re licking into his mouth like you love the taste of him.

A better man than Yoongi might hold back, might think you’re delirious with tiredness and might not want to take advantage of you in your vulnerable state.

Yoongi’s long accepted that he’ll never be nominated for sainthood.

He pulls you to him and kisses you back with everything he’s got.

‘You want me?’ he asks. His voice is low, gravelly with sleep.

‘Fuck you sound so sexy when you’re half-asleep,’ you say.

Yoongi takes that as a yes.

He slides a hand around your neck, under your hair. He loves the smell of you.

It’s then that he notices you’re wearing a thin t-shirt. Definitely no bra.

Obligingly, you’re pulling off your t-shirt, and now your tits are in his face.

Yoongi wants to tell you how pretty you are, but you’re lifting one of your breasts, fucking offering it to him, and there’s no way he’s saying no.

Yoongi lowers his head to taste you. Your nipple hardens with the first swipe of his tongue, and you make the most beautiful noises he’s ever heard when he starts suckling you.

Yoongi’s so hard he’s leaking into his boxer briefs.

Fuck. Is there a –

‘Top drawer,’ you say breathlessly, like you’ve read his mind.

Yoongi opens the drawer, sees the pack of condoms he didn’t see the first time and pulls one out.

‘Let me,’ you say.

You’re sitting up, getting on your knees. Yoongi initially thinks you can’t see in the dark and that’s why your face is so close but it all becomes clear when your lips close around his cock.

Fuck. Fuuuuuuck.

Your mouth feels like heaven.

Yoongi closes his eyes as you pull off him and unroll the condom onto his cock.

‘Get inside me, Yoongi,’ you plead.

‘Yeah,’ Yoongi grunts.

The way your back arches off the bed when he slides his dick into you – you’re like a work of art.

The sounds you’re making.

The way your fingers are digging into his back like you want him even closer.

Yoongi doesn’t want this to end.

You seem to like his voice, so Yoongi lets you hear him.

‘You’re so pretty, so pretty with my dick inside you,’ he tells you, fucking into you, long, slow.

‘I love the way you sound.’

You moan, and Yoongi’s cock jerks.

‘So fucking good,’ he tells you. He curls a hand around the back of your leg, giving himself more leverage as he thrusts into you.

You’re falling apart under him, and Yoongi loves to see it.

‘Yoongi,’ you cry. Your whole body arches against him, and Yoongi’s trying to hold on, but you feel too good. Another thrust and he’s cumming, spilling into you so hard he’d be worried about splitting the condom if any part of his brain was still functioning.

‘Damn Yoongi,’ you say.

Yoongi ties off the condom and tosses it towards the wastebasket. He pulls you close, buries his face in your hair, and falls asleep.

***

When Yoongi wakes up, you’re curled around him, face against his chest. He lets himself enjoy the feel of you for a moment before reaching for his phone.

No contact from Park Jimin.

Yoongi scrolls through his messages and emails. Experience tells him it’s getting close to the time he needs to get Jimin out of there, no matter what Jimin thinks.

He gets up, finds a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet to brush his teeth and gets re-dressed.

You haven’t stirred. You look tired, even in your sleep.

Yoongi’s trying to be quiet in the hallway when Mara’s door opens.

She seems unfazed by his presence.

‘Hello,’ Yoongi says.

‘Is mama sleeping?’ she asks.

‘Yeah,’ confirms Yoongi. ‘You want breakfast?’

Mara considers this. ‘Ok. I need to brush my teeth.’

This seems important to her.

‘Can you do it yourself?’ Yoongi asks, curious.

‘Mama usually does it for me.’

Yoongi’s never brushed anyone else’s teeth before but he wants you to sleep a little longer, so he takes Mara to the bathroom.

He’s sighing with relief over finishing brushing Mara’s teeth, when he realises she’s dancing a little.

‘Need the potty?’ he asks.

Mara nods.

‘I’ll wait outside. Can you do it yourself?’

‘Yes.’

Yoongi stands outside the bathroom door waiting for Mara to come out.

‘I need to get dressed next,’ Mara says. She’s already decided he’s such a buffoon he needs walking through all the steps of getting ready in the morning.

Yoongi waits in the hallway whilst she gets dressed.

‘The kitchen’s downstairs,’ Mara tells him. She’s got changed into a pink top and pink leggings. Yoongi likes the way she’s committed to a single block colour.

He needs to introduce her to her fashion soulmate Park Jimin.

Yoongi follows Mara to the kitchen.

‘Pancakes?’ she asks, hopefully.

‘Yeah,’ Yoongi says. He can make pancakes.

He pours her a glass of milk and gets to work.

Yoongi’s sipping his coffee whilst Mara chews her way through the stack of pancakes he’s made.

He hears a noise at the kitchen door and realises you’ve woken up.

There’s an expression on your face he’s never seen before.

It almost looks like you’re – crying? He was hoping you’d be happy.

Yoongi’s about to ask if you’re ok when his phone rings.

It’s Jimin.

***

Yoongi’s got his rifle braced against his shoulder. He’s on the roof of the building next to the club where the meeting with the ‘big client’ is taking place tonight.

He’s got a crystal-clear line of vision to the leader of the sex-trafficking ring. Any sign of a threat to Jimin and Yoongi’s going for a kill shot.

His earpiece crackles.

Jimin’s bugged the shit out of the room the meeting is in. They have more than enough to take the ring down.

And yet –

Jimin’s still there. He’s not signalled for help, or for the team to come in and start making arrests.

Jimin’s waiting for something, and Yoongi’s willing to wait with him until he gets it.

He trusts Jimin’s judgement implicitly.

Yoongi shifts. You’d given him a hell of a kiss goodbye when he’d left this morning.

He can’t wait to see you again.

Yoongi snaps to attention when he hears someone mention Hungary.

Fuck. Europe’s involved? Interpol’s going to have a field day.

Yoongi looks down the scope. A man’s just rushed into the room.

Yoongi’s not in the room, but he recognises the set pieces of a bad situation when he sees them.

He puts four pounds of pressure on the five-pound trigger.

Jimin sets off his help signal.

Yoongi starts taking down the bad guys.

***

Jimin’s been extricated from the meeting room unharmed. There’s blood in his blond hair still, staining it an odd dirty copper colour, and his suit is ruined, but Yoongi’s never been so glad to see him.

‘Thanks for saving my ass, hyung,’ Jimin says. He sounds casual, but he looks at Yoongi seriously when he says it.

‘You take too many risks,’ Yoongi tells him.

Jimin ignores him. ‘You left it a little late to take that guy who had his knife out down.’

‘That wasn’t me,’ Yoongi tells him.

Jimin’s disappointed. ‘Jesus. Did you even try to save me?’

Yoongi’s pretty sure he got the other five guys apart from the knife guy, but he doesn’t want Jimin to get too comfortable.

‘You take too many risks,’ he says again.

Jimin’s distracted by an emotional Jungkook.

‘Hyung,’ Jungkook says. He pulls Jimin into a hug.

Jimin taps Jungkook on the shoulder to loosen his hold. ‘I’ve missed you too, JK.’

Yoongi’s phone rings. He motions to Jungkook.

‘There’s been another strangulation. Back to work, Jungkook.’

Jungkook nods. ‘You coming to the crime scene with me?’

‘I’ve got another meeting,’ Yoongi says. He has to brief the Interpol team on Jimin’s investigation.

Yoongi gestures to Jimin. ‘Go get cleaned up, Jimin. Don’t let your girl see you looking like that.’

‘Sure,’ Jimin agrees. ‘I’ll have my report on your desk in a couple hours.’

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. Jimin’s notoriously slow with his paperwork, so he’ll believe it when he sees it.

Jungkook snorts. ‘Do you mean a couple of months?’

‘Why haven’t you left yet?’ Yoongi asks, turning his gaze to Jungkook.

Jimin looks affectionately in Jungkook’s direction as he leaves. ‘I’ll try and get it done this week,’ he promises Yoongi.

‘Take it easy, Jimin,’ Yoongi says. He puts his hand on Jimin’s shoulder. ‘Up for a beer later?’

‘Yeah,’ Jimin says. He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing slightly as shards of glass fall out and scatter on Yoongi’s desk.

Yoongi lets his displeasure be known by the way he pushes his now glass-filled coffee mug out of the way.

Jimin leaves, and Yoongi checks his phone.

No word from you.

He gets back to work.

***

Yoongi’s trying to play it cool. You’re back from your mom’s, she’s recovering from her surgery well.

You’ve invited him over, taking pains to tell him Mara’s going to be picked up by her dad tonight and she’ll be with him all weekend.

He figures you’ll watch a movie together, maybe grab dinner.

If you end the night with a kiss, he’ll be more than happy. He’s trying not to have expectations.

But fuck, now that he’s had a taste of you, he can’t help but want more.

Yoongi knocks on your door, and a man answers.

They’ve never met, but he recognises him from that photo in your room.

This must be Mara’s dad.

The man holds out a hand. ‘You must be Yoongi. I’m Heung-Min, Mara’s dad.’

Yoongi shakes his hand. ‘Yoongi,’ he says.

He’s saved any further awkward conversation by Mara walking up to him. ‘Hi Uncle Yoongi,’ she says.

Yoongi returns her smile. ‘Nice to see you again, Mara.’

‘Can you make me pancakes when I get back?’ she asks.

Suddenly you’re there, rolling your eyes. ‘She won’t stop going on about your pancakes,’ you say.

You look beautiful. You lean forward to give him a kiss.

Yoongi relaxes at your touch. He wasn’t expecting to meet Mara’s dad, but he seems a nice enough guy, and you and Mara are as charming as you ever were.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Heung-Min says. He pulls the lapels of Mara’s coat together, kneeling down to do up the zip.

‘See you Sunday,’ he says to you.

Yoongi watches as he leans down to kiss you on the cheek, hand on your shoulder.

Unexpectedly, Mara gives him a hug. ‘See ya, Uncle Yoongi.’

Yoongi and Heung-Min exchange a look as he leaves with Mara. Yoongi files it away to think about later.

Is this how mature adults behave?

He’s distracted from his thoughts by your arm sliding around his waist.

‘What do you want to do?’ you ask. You tilt your chin, eyes meeting his.

Yoongi’s trying not to stare at your lips.

‘Maybe watch a movie? Grab dinner?’ he suggests.

‘Yeah, sounds good,’ you say, easy. ‘But can we fuck first?’

Yoongi’s surprised, but he shouldn’t be. He’s just had a demonstration of how open and honest you are.

It’s making him feel a little bad about his general duplicity.

Then he remembers how you’ve never been taken in by any of the lies he’s told.

‘No,’ he says, straight faced. ‘Let’s have dinner first.’

You just laugh. ‘You need to work on your lying face, Yoongi,’ you advise him.

Yoongi’s mulling it over as he follows you to your bedroom. Then he realises your top is off. Then, somehow, your jeans are off.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed in your black lingerie, and fuck. Yoongi doesn’t think he can play it cool any longer.

‘Come on, Yoongi,’ you say, smiling at him.

Yoongi’s ready. Fuck, he’s ready.

***

Yoongi’s got your thighs wrapped around his head, and the reality of it is a thousand times better than how he imagined it.

The sounds coming out of you are making him impossibly hard.

Yoongi nudges your clit with his nose and curls his tongue into you. Your hips buck against his face, and Yoongi redoubles his efforts.

You taste so good he thinks he could do this all night.

‘Yoongi!’ you gasp.

Yoongi hums at you. ‘Like it?’ he asks.

‘Don’t stop,’ you plead.

Yoongi can feel the pulsing of your orgasm, your pussy fluttering around his tongue, even before you cry out.

You sound so fucking good.

You tug at his hand. ‘Get up here, Yoongi.’

Yoongi obliges, and you kiss him breathlessly. ‘You’re so good, so good,’ you moan.

Yoongi lets you push him back onto the bed.

You climb on top of him, pussy rubbing against him. You’re so wet still.

He looks at you, at your beautiful face, flushed and sheeny with sweat, and he thinks, fuck. I think I fucking love you.

He doesn’t think he’s said it out loud, but your smile could light up the sky.

You’re lining him up against you, sinking down on him, sheathing his cock within you.

Yoongi’s done a lot of things in his lifetime, but he doesn’t regret anything.

He doesn’t regret a single fucking thing, because they’ve all led him to you.

You’re talking, and Yoongi snaps to attention.

‘Come on, Yoongi,’ you say. You sound almost amused.

Yoongi doesn’t make you ask again.

#bts suga smut #bts smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut

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