#and now you’re defending yourselves with what should’ve applied to them as well….

[buggyandthebartoclub]

Idk how to say this but it’s hypocritical to say it’s all fiction, no thought policing, etc etc when it’s about stuff you’re horny for but not for the things you’re not horny for.. In both writing and art..

*shrugs* idk some of y’all kinda give rules for thee not for me w it. Idk. Just reflecting on things

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 4

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture

Word count: 2843

Part 3

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl @bitterlime13 @hallecarey1 @orangewheein @unexpected-character

AN: I apologize if some tags don’t work! Tumblr can’t find some of your usernames.

After listening to Steve’s plan, all four of you—technically five, since Bucky had to tag along—take the Quinjet to Siberia. The goal was to break out the five soldiers in Bucky’s former task force and bring them back to the Avengers Tower, where there was the technology to free their minds from HYDRA. 

Each of you were armed with a mask which would spray a powerful sedative into the face it was applied to, keeping the victim unconscious until it was removed. It was the simplest solution to taking down the super soldiers—when Bucky had been skeptical, Natasha had slapped a mask on him and he was out before he hit the floor. You were pretty sure you pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.

Now, you and Natasha sat in the cockpit while the others sat behind you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky says suddenly.

“Yeah?” You don’t even look over your shoulder.

“I’m…sorry for shooting you.”

“Twice,” you clarify. “I didn’t forget the count.”

“Sorry,” he repeats.

“Well, as long as you don’t mistake me for Steve again, I’ll be okay,” you say with a chuckle.

“So, just to reiterate our plan, Bucky will be with me and Clint, and Nat, you’ll be with Y/N,” Steve says.

“Even Captain America knows better than to break up the power couple.” You grin and reach over to put your hand on her thigh. Without taking her eyes off the controls, she takes your hand and interlocks your fingers.

“Yeah, so you two just do your thing—” Steve catches himself. “Wait, not that kind of thing.”

Clint explodes into wheezy laughter and Natasha shakes her head, her cheeks reddening. You’re not embarrassed like she is, but you’re still quick to defend yourselves.

“It was one time!” you protest. It had been a mission where everything that could’ve gone wrong did, and you and Natasha were convinced it would be your last. You two decided to end it wrapped around each other, but then the rest of the Avengers had barged in and said there had been a miscommunication and it wasn’t the end of the world after all. It was the one mission you would never live down.

“Just keep it professional, please,” Steve begs. “No matter what happens, we’re all going home alive, okay?”

Bucky looks completely lost.

Natasha lands the Quinjet in a flurry of snow and all of you exit the warmth of the plane.

“I should’ve brought one of your hoodies,” she mumbles, walking as close to you as she can without tripping you. 

“It would’ve clashed with your uniform,” you say, putting your arm around her waist. The super soldier serum in your veins causes you to run a higher-than-average body temperature. You feel as comfortable as if you stepped out of hot shower.

The facility is the only building for miles. It looks big enough to fit a space rocket and has a dull, concrete exterior. The only security is a chain-link fence with a frozen padlock that Steve breaks open with his shield. You file through the gate, and Bucky inputs a code into the door to grant everyone entry. The interior is just as disappointing as the outside. Nothing but a maze of concrete halls with metal doors. The ceiling has dripping water stains and an uncomfortably musty, moldy smell hangs in the air.

“I bet you’re really glad you escaped this rust bucket,” you say to Bucky. He only shakes his head.

“Stay alert,” Steve advises. “We’ll split here. Keep us updated on your position and if you find anyone.”

“Copy that.” You and Natasha turn right while the others turn left. She finds a flight of stairs and you follow behind her. You unholster your gun, holding it at the ready by your side. Natasha makes random turns and ignores every room you walk by. You listen intently for any sort of noise that would indicate a person lurking in the shadows, but so far, there’s nothing.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” you ask.

“Do you?” she snaps.

“Hey, I’m just following you.” You back off. Even though you know this is no time to be making jokes, you still can’t help yourself. High-stress situations make you nervous, especially when you’re with Natasha, because anything that could happen to you could happen to her.

When you pass by a room with its door open, you see a large glass tank big enough to fit a human and filled with murky green water. For a reason you can’t explain, you feel yourself drawn towards it and you step into the room, a chill raising goosebumps on your skin. You reach out to touch the tank’s wall and close your eyes.

You’re floating in a tank of your own, tubes running out of your nose, mouth, and down every limb. You jerk around wildly in the water tinged pink with your blood. Your lungs seize for air, but every breath you inhale is wet and salty.

“Shall we go another round?” you hear someone on the other side say.

“Might as well. No pain, no gain, right?” someone replies.

You want to bash your hands against the glass, but you’re too weak to have any control over your movements. You feel a sharp pain in your lower back, at the base of your spine, and your body arches as more drugs are pumped into you. You have no breath to scream with as your body twists in agony. It feels like a fire eating you from the inside out, burning through your bones, and you want nothing more than to wither away to ash...

“Hey.” You jump when you feel Natasha’s hand on your shoulder. “What are you doing in here?”

“Um, I…I thought I heard something,” you lie. Natasha frowns. Like Steve and Bucky, you had been a lab rat yourself, although not to SHIELD or HYDRA. You had been passed around other government agencies—at least, that’s what you think. Most of your memories of that time were fuzzy, which you were fine with. The ones you did remember weren’t worth reliving anyway.

“Y/N.” Natasha looks concerned.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” You don’t want to interrupt the mission with your personal problems.

She knows better than to push you, especially at a time like this. “Okay,�� she says, leaving the room. You take a minute to collect yourself. When you finally turn around, you see a black-haired woman, shorter than Natasha even, standing in the doorway in the same vest Bucky had worn the first time you met him.

“Hello,” you say, holstering your gun. You’re not going to shoot someone who looks like she’s barely of age. “You must be one of the super soldiers Bucky told me about. Who was your target supposed to be? Romanoff?” you tease.

“Thor.” The woman’s voice is dainty. Her body is literally the size of one of Thor’s arms. There’s no way she’s telling the truth.

You laugh. “That’s cute. But this is no place for a kid,” you say, walking towards her. But she sees that you’re too casual, your guard let down too low, and takes advantage of that. “Now all I need is for you to put this mask on and—”

The woman launches at you with a speed you don’t even process. She swipes your legs out from under you, causing you to crash on your back. Then she’s on top of you, hands around your throat. You reach into your pocket for your knife, all jokes lost with her attempt to take your life.

You flip the blade out and swing at her face, but she’s quick to dodge and rolls to the side. You jump to your feet, wondering where Natasha is. But you’re too embarrassed to call for her help, even if this soldier claims she was given the task of taking out the god of thunder.

The woman is impossibly fast and she lands blow after blow on you while you stagger back and slash out helplessly with your knife. When she kicks you in the stomach and your back collides into the water tank, you’ve had enough. 

You switch your knife to your left hand and aim for the woman’s neck. She grabs your wrist and twists it around so the knife turns towards you. Your eyes widen as she puts her entire body weight behind the knife. The blade sinks into your shoulder.

“What the—” You don’t even register the pain, more upset that you’ve been harmed with your own weapon. The woman grins, distracted, and you punch her in the throat as hard as you can. Her eyes bulge and she coughs, her hands flying to her neck. 

You take the mask out of your pocket and shove it onto her face, hearing the hiss as the sedative is instantly released. The woman immediately goes limp and you have no problem letting her drop to the floor.

“Y/N!” You look up and see Natasha staring at you, arms crossed over her chest.

“I got one.” You puff out your chest proudly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Natasha comes over and inspects the soldier’s limp body.

“I didn’t need to. I handled her all by myself,” you say, a little annoyed by her doubt in your abilities.

“Is that a knife in your shoulder?” she asks.

“I…Oh, yeah—” 

“Is that your knife?” Being called out hurts more than the actual pain of having the knife in your shoulder.

“Uh…maybe…” You can’t even look her in the eye.

“Y/N,” Natasha growls. “Here, let me take it out.”

You back up until you hit the tank again. “Wait, shouldn’t we—ow!” you yelp as Natasha jerks the knife out.

“You’ve been through worse.” She tries to hand you the knife, but you shake your head, too embarrassed to continue carrying it with you since you obviously can’t be trusted with it. She shrugs and pockets your knife, taking out some gauze and tape to patch up your wound. You rotate your left arm in circles; besides an uncomfortable twinge, it works fine. 

“So, what do we do with her body?” you ask.

“We’ll come back. We need to find the other three first.”

“Three? I thought there were four.” You try to do the math in your head. Bucky had said there five super soldiers, and you had just defeated one, meaning there were four left—

“Three,” Natasha repeats and you look at her in confusion. “Mine’s outside.” Unlike you, there wasn’t a single scratch on her. Together, you leave the room and find a man slumped on the floor, a mask on his face.

“When did this happen?” you ask.

Natasha shrugs, but you can tell she’s extremely proud of herself. “When you were busy dealing with that little girl.”

“Excuse me. According to her, her target was Thor,” you say. “So, I just took out the soldier who was supposed to take down the god of thunder.”

“Yeah, you can keep telling yourself that.” Natasha nudges you playfully.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey, are you two okay?” Steve asks in your earpiece.

“We disabled two soldiers on the second floor,” Natasha responds.

“Perfect. We got two down here as well.”

“Who did you take out?” Clint asks.

“This tiny woman and a guy,” you answer.

“How big was the guy?” Bucky asks.

“Maybe around your size?” you estimate, staring down at the soldier Natasha subdued.

“Okay, because the two we took out were also average-sized dudes. The last one—I was hoping it wouldn’t come down to this—he’s an absolute beast. I think he’s almost seven-feet tall and could bench press a plane with one hand,” Bucky says.

“So whoever takes him out wins,” you say. Between you and Natasha, you were certain you could win any fight.

“You’re on,” Clint says.

Natasha and you leave the soldiers where they lay and search the rest of the floor. This time, you take the lead, a little more cautious since you know what to expect. You head up to the third floor, expecting the last soldier to jump out at any moment. The tension of waiting to find him is almost unbearable and your muscles ache from being coiled so tightly.

“You guys find him yet?” Natasha asks through the earpieces.

“Negative.”

Suddenly, a moving shadow catches your eye and you throw out your arm to stop Natasha. A man steps out from around the corner and Bucky wasn’t lying about his size. He’s so tall the top of his head disappears behind the ceiling beams and he looks like he would sweep any bodybuilding competition he entered.

“Never mind, we found him. Third floor,” Natasha mumbles.

“Don’t engage him alone.” That’s Steve’s voice. “Try to stall—”

“Too late” you want to say as the man charges towards you. There is no way you two are taking him down without the use of any weapons; plus, you don’t have any more masks to use. But if you punched or kicked him, you wouldn’t be able to reach his face without catching airtime. You run backwards, fumbling with your options. An idea pops into your head.

“Maybe he has a safe word, too,” you say, crashing into Natasha and shoving her back. “Lizzie! Karen!” you scream the first names that come to you. “It could be a guy’s name—can’t assume anything, right? Chris! Tom! Mark!” The names have no effect other than making you look like an idiot.

“Shut up, Y/N—” Natasha hisses.

The man roars and reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your shirt. He throws you like a javelin and you can’t believe how far you fly, landing on your stomach and skidding another 30 feet.

Natasha tries engaging him, and although she’s faster than him, any punch or kick she lands goes completely unnoticed by him. The man flings her aside like a sack of flour and comes towards you.

You reach for your gun, but before you can bring it up, he kicks it out of your hand and stomps on it. The barrel literally flattens before your eyes, and you roll onto your back to face him. He lifts his foot, which is easily as big as your calf, and brings it down on your right knee.

CRUNCH.

The pain of your leg snapping in half is so blinding and nauseating you don’t even scream. It feels like someone is holding a blow torch to your bones and your entire body starts trembling in shock. The man scoops you up with an arm leveraged underneath your chin, and once you’re upright, you feel the lower half of your right leg dangling like a broken branch.

He lifts you high enough so your feet don’t touch the floor, leaving you scrabbling at his arm and choking on your saliva. Your vision flashes white and you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit as he spins you around to face Natasha.

She has her gun out, pointed at his head. “Put Y/N down,” she orders.

“And what if I don’t?” the man says in a voice that sounds like it came from the depths of the ocean. “You think you can shoot me before I can break a neck?” He squeezes you harder and you whimper.

Natasha pauses to think, and her eyes dart to the side before looking back at the man. “Okay, okay.” She sets her gun on the floor and raises her hands. “Just please don’t—”

“Kick it towards me.” The man crushes your windpipe like a straw and your eyes water.

Natasha reaches out with her foot and sends the gun spinning towards you and your captor. Suddenly, the man tosses you away and when you crumple on your broken leg, you swear you see purgatory. 

“Get on your knees,” the man tells Natasha. She doesn’t obey. “I said, get on your knees!” Very slowly, with a defiant look on her face, she drops to her knees one at a time. The man picks up her gun and holds it in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting years to finally meet you, Agent Romanoff.”

“Well, sorry for not coming around sooner.”

“My comrades may not have been successful in eliminating their targets, but I don’t fail,” the man says.

Natasha looks away from him to you. “I love you,” she calls, as casually as if you two were lounging on the couch watching a movie together.

You blink away tears to make eye contact with her. You can’t move, you have no weapons, and he has a gun pointed at her head. The complete helplessness you feel hurts more than your broken leg, more than Bucky’s gunshots had, more than any pain you’ve ever felt before. There’s a thousand things you want to tell her, but you only have time to say one.

“I love you t—”

But there isn’t even enough time for you to finish your sentence, because suddenly Natasha’s face is covered in blood.

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Click here for Part 5!

[brideofedoras]

Soulbound: Almost Human

Disclaimer: I do not own Almost Human or the characters, only my OCs...  

Word Count: 2900+

Rating: 18 +

Warnings: Death and injuries, anxiety, asthma.  More warnings to be added in the future.

Chapter One

“Samuel Jacob Williams is… was… my hero,” she schooled her grimace as she stared down at the paper in her trembling hands.  For a moment the blue ink blurred out of focus, but three rapid blinks of her baby blue eyes cleared her vision.  “He was a wonderful husband and father, the best dad a girl could ever hope for, and he was a great detective.”  A slight wheeze rattled up her throat.  “He always knew he would die in the line of duty, more than once he would tell me he wouldn’t go down without a fight but he would be damned proud to give his life if it meant The City would be safe for another day.

“He spoke often of his old partner and the rookies he’d break in, the fresh new detectives he trained.  They were more than coworkers, fellow cops and detectives, they were his other family.  His brothers and sisters in blue.  I grew up hearing many funny stories about the job, and as I got older he opened up about the harder cases.  Losing Eddie Kennex had been one of the hardest moments for him, Eddie lost his life shortly after Mom lost her battle with cancer.  I remember waking up in the middle of the night to hear him drunk and arguing with Sandy and two other detectives as they dragged him into the house and to his bedroom.  It took him a week before he could open up about Eddie, and another week before he could face his coworkers and Eddie’s son.”  Her eyes blurred again.  She blinked them several times to clear them, gripping the podium with her free hand to ground herself as she realized it was her anxiety rearing its ugly head.  “He made me promise not to follow in his footsteps as a cop, and I reminded him that I preferred to tinker with the guts of an android or a computer.  I’ll help keep the city safe by keeping the MXes in tiptop condition.”

Her ears perked up when she heard someone seated behind Sandy mutter something that sounded like “Kennex”.   She looked up just in time to catch the look that crossed her godmother’s face.

Sandy shook her head, indicating for her to continue.  

“Daddy was proud of every one of you,” she went on, only to stop when she noticed several of the cops were whispering to one another.  She caught “Kennex” and “setup” and “he never should’ve been leading that raid”.

Anger flooded through her, white hot.  The hand holding the paper her notes were written on clenched.  “We are here to remember a detective, not trash talk a fellow cop,” she snapped.  “Daddy spoke highly of John Kennex!  He spoke more about John and Martin Pelham, Eddie and Sandy than he ever spoke about anyone else!  He would be ashamed that you guys are on a witch hunt at a memorial service for a fallen detective!”  She wadded up her paper and threw it aside.  “This is the hardest thing I have to do today, saying goodbye to my father, the only blood family I have left!  And you’re talking crap on a man who is in a coma in the hospital, hanging on by a thread when his best friend and his mentor died!”  She looked out among the crowd of fifty men and women gathered in the chapel, taking in the shocked looks on their faces.  “Here I am, twenty-five years old and honoring the life and death of the most important person in my life and you all are acting like a bunch of immature assholes ganging up to beat the hell out of someone!”  She took a step back from the podium, pride filling her chest for standing up and speaking out in defense of someone who wasn’t there to defend himself.  “I hope you’re proud of yourselves for ruining what should have been a remembrance!”

Her chin wobbled.  Her eyes burned.  Her chest tightened.

Her vision blacked out.

Emily Williams zipped her backpack and set it on the table next to the teddy bear and the vase with a small bouquet of sunflowers and daisies.  

Her phone vibrated on the bed behind her.  Her eyes slid shut for a moment as she drew in a slow, deep breath before she picked up the device.  Seeing her godmother’s name she tapped answer.  “Hey, Sandy.”

“Hi, Sweetie,” Captain Sandra Maldonado’s voice sounded a tad frazzled.  “I can’t leave just yet to pick you up.  We had a lead come in a few moments ago.”

“On the ambush?”  She reached up with her free hand to rake her shoulder-length chocolate brown locks from her face.

“Not the ambush, but on a related case,” Sandy told her.  “It’ll be maybe half an hour before I can leave the precinct.  I know you’re ready to get the hell out of the hospital--”

“It’s fine, Sandy,” Emily couldn’t help the smile that teased her lips.  “I’m in no hurry to go… to go home.  I am ready to get out of this room.  I’ve already told one of the CNAs to just rename 418-B the Emily Rose Williams Room.”

Sandra laughed at that.  “They do keep admitting you to that particular room, don’t they?”

She shook her head.  “Yeah, they do.”

“Well…  Since you’ll be there for at least another hour, would you feel up to going upstairs to visit with John?  I’m not going to be able to visit with him tonight.  I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be here late working this lead.”

 “Sandy, I could always call a cab or one of my neighbors to come get me,” Emily offered, moving toward the window to look out at the street below.  “If this case is related to the raid I don’t want to pull you away from it.”

“I’m coming to get you, Emmie, I need to give my brain a break for a little while and check on John,” Sandy’s tone brooked no argument.  “I’ll be there  when I get there, we’ll grab lunch, and if you decide you want to stay somewhere else tonight you are more than welcome to go to my place.”

She couldn’t help but smile again.  There was no arguing with the redhead.  “All right.  I’ll go sit with Detective Kennex and wait for you.”

“Any place in particular for lunch?”

“I’m not really hungry, but considering breakfast was turkey sausage and rubbery eggs, I’d settle for noodles,” she shrugged.

Sandra snorted.  “You and Kennex would get along famously, Kiddo.  He would live off noodles every day if he could get away with it.”

“With all that salt?”  Emily shuddered.  She loved Chinese noodle dishes, but every once in a while was enough for her.  They tasted too salty for her.  

“Yeah,” her godmother murmured.  “Will you need to stop anywhere else before I take you home?”

“I’ll call the pharmacy to deliver my prescriptions,” she answered.  

“Okay.  I’ll be there when I can.  Oh, and Emily?”

“Yeah, Sandy?”

“Talk to Kennex?  They say that a person in a coma can hear when someone speaks to them.  John could use another friendly voice.”

Emily nodded.  “What would I say?  I’ve never met him, Sandy.”

“Talk about your dad, or about yourself.  Tell him you’re applying for an internship with Rudy.  Those two butt heads a lot.”

“Sandy, you know I hate talking about myself!”

“John’s in a coma,” she reminded the younger woman.  “He needs to hear a friendly voice.  And even if he were awake, he wouldn’t tease or pick on you.  He’d probably flirt with you.”

“I doubt that, Sandy,” Emily turned away from the window.  

“Oh, he would, and he’s so terrible at it,” Sandra’s humor faded.  “John’s going to need all the support he can get.”

“I’ll do what I can, Sandy,” Emily agreed softly.  

“Okay,” her godmother murmured.  “I’ll see you when I get there.  Hopefully I can sneak out of here in thirty.”

“You’re the captain, you can do whatever you want,” she grinned, knowing full well what Sandra was going to say.

“I am, but I prefer to lead by example,” she laughed.  

They ended the call with a quiet see you later.

Emily slipped her phone into the back pocket of her distressed skinny jeans before she walked over to the chair near the bed to wait on the charge nurse to bring the discharge paperwork and doctor’s orders.

Fifteen minutes later she found herself standing in front of the private room Detective Kennex was in.  

“It’s good to see someone other than Captain Maldonado visiting the detective,” the CNA escorting her murmured.  

Emily looked at the blonde, eyes wide.  “No one else has been here?”

Sarah, she belatedly recalled the woman’s name, shook her head.  “Not a soul.  Does he not have any family or friends?”

“His dad died ten years ago,” her heart ached for the man.  “A few months after my mom passed away…  His mom…  I think my dad told me Detective Kennex’ mom passed away when he was in high school.  As for friends…  I honestly don’t know, I’ve never met him,” she confessed.  “He worked with Daddy, he’s close with Sandy.  He lost his entire team in that raid, and everyone else is working long hours trying to find the people responsible.”  She dragged her eyes from the frosted panel of the door to the CNA beside her.  “Sandy said he has a girlfriend.  She’s not been in?”

“He’s been here for thirteen days,” Sarah’s mouth twisted into a frown.  “The captain has been the only visitor.  And now you.”  She pressed a button on the panel beside the door.  “Come on, let me introduce you to our resident strong and silent detective.”

Emily followed the blonde into the room, her baby blue eyes sweeping the sterile space.  No flowers, no cards, no stuffed animals.  Just a framed photograph on the small dresser by the bed and a dragon figurine.  She set her bouquet and bear on the counter by the sink before slowly approaching the bed.

“Detective Kennex, you have a new visitor,” Sarah spoke in a cheerful voice as she gently adjusted the detective’s position and checked the leads and IVs.  She stepped back and motioned for Emily to come over. 

Emily shrugged her backpack from her shoulder and set it on the chair as she joined the CNA.  She looked at the blonde.  “I have no idea what to say to him,” she whispered.

Sarah smiled as she squeezed Emily’s shoulder.  “Basketball or hockey scores, the weather, maybe something you’ve tried recently that you absolutely love.  We talk to him every time we’re in here, hoping he’ll wake up and tell us to shut up.  A couple of us are keeping him up to date on our favorite soaps, even if he’s not a fan.”

She managed a smile at that.  “I don’t watch soaps or sports, I’m a grad student.”

“Then talk about your studies,” Sarah headed for the door.  “Thank you, Miss Wililams, for coming up here.”

She nodded before she slowly turned back to face the detective.  She reached out and took John’s left hand in her two cold hands.  A shiver of heat coursed through her from the feel of his limp, callused hand in hers.  She smiled shyly as she studied the healing bruises and cuts on his face, the scar on his chin.  “Um, hi, Detective Kennex, I’m Emily.  I hope you don’t mind me, someone you don’t know…  I…  I’m not exactly a stranger since you worked with my dad…  I hope it’s okay for me to come visit you while you’re in the hospital.  I’m waiting for my ride to pick me up and she wanted me to wait here for her.  She’s been visiting with you a lot, and I…  Nobody should be alone in the hospital.  If it weren’t for her, I....  I, uh,” she laughed nervously when she felt his hand squeeze hers.  His heart rate kicked up briefly on the monitor attached to the bed.  “I’m rambling, I’m sorry.  I’m, yeah…  You probably can’t even hear me since you’re in a coma, but I want you to know that I hope you have a quick recovery.”  She reached up with her right hand to comb her fingers through his dark hair.  She smiled when his brow furrowed slightly.  Was he ticklish?  Was he responding to her touch?  Or was it just a random tic totally unrelated to external stimuli?  

She quickly shrugged that thought off before reaching over to move her backpack off the chair.  She pulled it toward her and sat down.

“I just finished up my own hospital stay,” she said after wracking her brain for something else to say.  She frowned when her lungs grew tight and shifted to fish her inhaler out of her jeans pocket just in case her growing anxiety brought on an asthma attack.  “I have asthma,” she admitted with a twist of her lips.  “I’ve got it under control for the most part but it’s mostly triggered by anxiety attacks.  Three days ago was my dad’s memorial service.  Quite a few of the officers and detectives attending were being disrespectful of Daddy, being disrespectful to me, they were talking about you, blaming you for the… for the lives lost… and I lost my temper.  I stopped in the middle of the speech I’d prepared and ripped them a new one.  I cussed in a church,” she could laugh about it now.  Three days ago it had put her in the hospital.  “I was so caught up in my emotions I didn’t realize my anxiety had gotten the better of me.  One minute I was feeling proud for shutting them up, the next I’m waking up in the emergency room with an oxygen mask on my face and all kinds of monitors attached to me.”  She stopped herself from continuing, remembering that initial panic and ripping the mask and the leads from her chest before the nurse returning to the trauma room stopped her.  She didn’t need to unload on the detective.  “Anyway they decided I could go home today.  I’ve been meaning to come up here and visit with you anyway.  I want you to know I don’t believe a word they were saying about you.  I don’t blame you.  Daddy thought the world of you, he was always talking about you to me.  Said he wanted us to meet, but never did anything about it,” she smiled, shaking her head.  “I asked him one time if he was ever going to take me to McQuaid’s to meet you some evening and he told me, ‘You’ll meet him when you’re supposed to meet him, Princess.’  I don’t know what he meant by that, he never answered when I would ask why.”  She idly played with the callused fingers of the hand she still held.  She blushed when she realized what she was doing, and stammered out an apology.  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, standing up to gently lay his hand on the blanket by his hip.  “I’m holding your hand as if I have a right to, and I don’t, I’m so sorry.  I just…  I didn’t realize I…”  She stepped back from the bed as she scrubbed her hands over her face.  “I’m…  I’m just not used to… to… this.”  She started to pace the room.  “Sorry, my anxiety is getting the best of me, and you’d think I’d be excited about getting out of the hospital after being a patient here myself.  I am, but I’m not.  I’m…  I don’t want to go home to an empty house.  I’ll…  I’ll probably be ordering a pizza tonight, I don’t think I can handle cooking dinner for just myself.  Dammit, I’m sorry, Detective, you’re in a coma and I’m unloading on you.  I…”   She jumped when the door opened, looking over to see Sandra Maldonado standing there with her coat draped over her arm. 

“Any change?”  Sandy asked softly.

Emily shook her head.  “No, just reflexive movements,” she answered.  She turned her attention back to the detective, her left hand curling over his left once more, her right hand stroking through his hair.  “Can… can I come back…”  She laughed nervously at herself.  “Why am I even asking, you’re unconscious…  If it’s okay with you, I’d like to come back tomorrow to sit with you,” she finished in a whisper.  “Hospitals get awfully lonely.”

Her eyes were drawn to her hand when she felt a slight squeeze. 

“Did he just…?”  Sandra asked slowly.

“I think it’s just reflexes,” she shrugged, but she squeezed his fingers.  “I’ll be back tomorrow, sometime, Detective Kennex.  I need to get my assignments and get caught up on what I’ve missed in my classes.”  She smiled to herself as she pulled away.  “Maybe I’ll work on my assignments while I’m here, work on them out loud.  Some of the classes are very boring, I’m hoping that you’ll wind up coming to just to tell me to shut up and get out.”

Sandra laughed.  “That sounds like something John would do, but I doubt he’d ever say that to you, Emily,” she smiled.  “I’ll just hound him about the paperwork that was supposed to be turned in weeks ago on the Andretti Corp case.”

Emily giggled.  “Daddy hated the paperwork part of the cases.”

“We all do,” Sandra leaned down to grab Emily’s bag.  She smiled sadly when she saw the flowers and the bear by the sink. 

“Thought I’d brighten up his room,” Emily shrugged.

She nodded.  “He’d appreciate it.”  She slipped her arm around the younger woman when she walked over to her.  “And I think he’d appreciate the company.”

[fanatical-san]

So I’ve started the Victuuri fic, called Love Me, Hate Me (And I’ll Crumble), to accompany @crimson-chains‘ absolute god-send of a Mafia AU. The stunning artwork has really helped me produce a little something, whether the writing has turned out shitty, or otherwise.

The blurb! -  Trouble between Mafia boss Nikiforov and gang leader JJ has been brewing, and Yuuri knows that it's his duty to discover the identity of and capture Nikiforov. The streets of Italy may never see peace otherwise, and innocent people could be harmed. He particularly wants to protect the charming Victor Plisetsky, who he fell for after saving him from JJ's group. Victor has been told, time and time again, that seducing a cop, of all people, is a tricky business. But anything for his Yuuri, right? And besides, he's got bigger problems to deal with. Like that JJ, who's a constant thorn in his side. He can manage keeping his identity secret and getting rid of JJ. He's a Mafia boss, after all.

@crimson-chains (it’s still jokesequaljoker, I just changed my URL), you are insanely talented, so thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write this, and I hope you like it - I can’t wait to continue <3

Alternatively, read the first chapter under the cut!

If this is their attempt at an ambush, then Victor is sorely disappointed. It takes him a glance to work out that two men are hidden behind the dumpsters in an attempt to be discreet.

It’s novice, almost; the gradient of the concrete by the right wall of the alleyway is significantly less worn than that on the left side; something must’ve prevented the concrete on the right from eroding (i.e. the dumpster). They can’t’ve expected Victor not to notice, could they?

And besides, having two dumpsters in the far corner is the worst possible idea. No self-respecting shop owner would waste time walking to dumpsters all the way down there when they could bin waste where the path turns off into the alley. Thus, the dumpsters must have been moved together in order to lend enough space for two men (one man could fit behind one dumpster) to hide.

Victor looks at the dumpster directly, and flicks his hair to one side.

“Well, gentlemen? Are you going to introduce yourselves?” No response. “Now, now-” Victor strolls up to the dumpster and pushes them apart with the perfect force, revealing two huddled men (as he’d suspected). “-are we going to have to have a little chat?”

The men yell, and clamber up, launching themselves at Victor. A simple swipe deflects their first three blows. It’s when the second one tries (and fails) to deliver an uppercut that Victor realises: these men aren’t soladato at all.

Victor should be insulted. The rank of the man who throws (and misses) yet another poorly timed punch is an associate; both ambushers are little more than cugines, and consequently mediocre in their attacks, at best. And their attempt at an ambush? Abysmal. He should’ve known. But for JJ to send people who aren’t even properly initiated? Victor thinks that this must be a new low, even for that stuck up Canadian.

And it’s as he’s about to rough them up a little that he hears it; police sirens. The polizia are near – he can’t be seen on the offensive. So he practically has to move his jaw so that the second man can actually hit him, but it impacts harder than he expects. The man’s spurred on by his blow, and attempts a kick, which scrapes Victor’s side. He needs to defend himself, but he has to be cautious. As he tries to calculate the best compromise, the first guy comes up behind him and-

Shit. He’s losing control of the situation.

*

The sirens are obnoxiously loud, and extremely unnecessary, in Yuuri’s opinion. They might as well announce ‘hey, this is the fucking police, if you’re shifty, get the hell out’ through a megaphone, for all the help it’s doing. How are they meant to catch criminals when they’re giving them a headstart?

Seems those two idiots don’t get it though, Yuuri thinks, as he notices two men blatantly beating up another man. Yuuri can’t exactly see who it is, but the man doesn’t seem to be fighting back. Yuuri’s got help him out, and quick. He swerves the car to the curb and jumps out, striding towards the fight.

“This is the police,” he says in Italian (he doubts these guys know English), “stop – now.”

Turns out they aren’t complete fools; they yelp and scramble away. Yuuri should go after them, but he needs to check the citizen is okay first, so he crouches down and-

Woah. He’s stunning.

Yuuri immediately pushes the thought out of his mind and clears his throat.

“Are you okay, sir?” The man looks at him properly, and Yuuri sees the blood smeared across his face from a bloody nose that he needs to apply pressure to. He rummages through his coat pocket and pulls out a blue handkerchief (it’s the only thing he’s got, currently; it’s going to have to do), holding it out for the man to take.

However, he’s met with a slightly dazed stare, before the man mutters something…in Russian? Is he foreign? Yuuri thinks he hears the word ‘angel’, but that makes no sense in this context, so his Russian must be too rusty to make out the words.

“Sir???”

The man, who’s propped up on his elbows, is actually dressed pretty smartly. An expensive suit jacket slips off his shoulders (he’s got really well-defined collarbones, Yuuri notices as he takes in the man’s loose collar), and the tie does not look cheap, either. All in all, the man seems dishevelled, but there seems to be an air of importance about him.

Yuuri should definitely take a moment to make sure he’s going to be okay. Besides, the assaulters are most likely out of reach for now…right?

*

So what if Victor is known to over plan? Being prepared is never a bad thing, and Victor must admit that strategizing over how to get his lovely cop to fall for him for only six hours or so was very disciplined of him.  

He thinks back to last night, where he’d nursed his limoncello liquor (Sorrento, of course) as thoughts swirled about his mind.

How should I seduce him? he’d pondered. Because that was his goal, after all. Rationality had flown his mind when he’d first seen the handsome cop (and he was aware, somewhere in his love-befuddled head, that getting a cop into bed was reckless. But he didn’t have to worry about that for now); all Victor knew was that he wanted him. And what Victor he wanted, he got.

But the cop had genuinely seemed sweet, too. Victor had been surprised to discover that the physical attraction was only half the appeal for him. He had this urge to get to know the cop better…meaning, of course, that Victor was in love (no matter who told him he was out of his mind).

In the end, it was simple; he’d return the blue handkerchief (adorable), and ask the beautiful man to dinner (in English; Victor could tell that Italian didn’t come very naturally to the cop, and judging by what he’d heard, the man was probably an English speaker to some degree).

However, standing outside the police station, Victor can’t help but feel ever-so-slightly anxious. There’s no time for nerves though; he glimpses the cop coming out of the building and immediately steps in with a sultry gaze and a confident tone.

“Hello,” he says smoothly, producing the handkerchief. “Thank you for your handkerchief yesterday. I’d like to treat you to dinner to show my gratitude.” Perfect, all according to plan. Now all that’s left is for the cop to say yes, fall head over heels, and then they can get to-

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you say something?” he replies, taking out a single earphone. Earphones. He’s wearing earphones? Oh shit. Victor must look really dumb now (and he’s thanking the lord that he at least got the language right – the reply was in English), and now he’s gotta start again but he can’t just reset oh god-

“I!” Victor begins. Okay, okay, he just needs to say thank you…is that what he said before? “Yesterday you helped me so…um-” No, no, no, he’s stuttering! What was he saying again? Fuck it; dinner. Ask about dinner. “please let me buy you dinner!”

The cop looks at him with the most puzzled expression (and still manages to look delectable), to the extent where the phrase ‘ground, swallow me up’ suddenly becomes very relevant for Victor.

“Oh,” the cop says, and Victor’s heart skips a beat. Could he still…? “You don’t have to. I’m always happy to help.” Then, quieter: “It’s my job, after all.”

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! At this rate, they’ll be saying goodbye in a second, parting ways never to speak again, and thus inevitably killing Victor’s poor heart. He has to save this!

“I insist!” It comes out obnoxious and blunt, but at least it’s something. The cop falters.

“Okay – uh,” he begins, and Victor seriously fears that he’s ruined his chances. “Can I get your name?”

His name? Oh. Oh.

Victor feels like such an imbecile. His name – the cop doesn’t even know his name! Well, that’s easy enough.

“Ah, sorry, how rude of me!” he says courteously. “My name is Victor.” He can’t tell the cop his surname, of course, as wonderful as the man may seem. Victor isn’t completely stupid.

“Okay, Victor!” And isn’t it just a stab through the heart to hear those dreamy tones say his name so softly? He wants to make it his ringtone, just to hear that voice say his name again (and he can’t help but imagine that voice saying his name in completely different – and leagues more pleasurable – situation…). “I’m Yuuri Katsuki!”

The blonde Yuri won’t like that, but then again, he doesn’t like anything, so perhaps that’s not too bad (and besides, this name is different, elongated. He likes it). Yuuri Katsuki. Japanese, perhaps. It fits him. Victor smiles, and on impulse, reaches for Yuuri’s hand.

“Then…” he says in an almost whisper, kissing Yuuri’s soft hand briefly, “Allow me to take care of you this evening, Yuuri…”

He looks up, notices Yuuri’s shocked blush, and blanches.

Oh, god. Has he messed it up again? Already? Was that too much? He’s smiling, so that’s fine, right? Victor has to believe it.

In hindsight, this may be a little harder than expected…but his angelic cop has said yes to him, and Victor’s determined to seduce him to the best of his abilities.