#take a single step out of line and you will be a cold case unsolved for twenty fucking years on a true crime bloggers podcast

[syluscore]

Workplace Romance

~ID! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count: 7213

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con, dub-con, serial killers, murder, leon's a major asshole and mean to reader, lots of arguing, confrontation, drugging, kidnapping, use of shock collar, degrading, pet names, serious bodily harm, forced self-harm, crawling, descriptions of blood/pain/body mutation, forced blowjob, cum swallowing, piss, reader pisses self, removal of an appendage/body part, capital punishment, death row, lethal injection, masturbation, very little comfort, no happy ending

the content warnings are a mess, but i think i included everything.

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!

Agent Leon Kennedy. A name you weren’t familiar with until a few weeks ago. Now, he��s the leading cause of all your headaches.

He’s a renowned FBI agent. Not only is he an excellent detective, but an expert in serial killer psychology.

He’s successfully led in the investigations and captures of eight serial killers and helped in the convictions of upwards of a hundred murderers.

He’s spent years studying the minds of serial killers. He can find the smallest bit of information and utilize it to get inside a killer's head. He’s the FBI’s serial killer specialist and if there’s ever a suspected serial killing, the case files land right on his desk.

And that’s what’s brought the two of you together.

You had just made detective at the Raccoon City Police Department, but the training was subpar. Any case that goes through this department is almost guaranteed to go unsolved. It’s not the station's fault, but the lack of funding and resources that has led to its downfall.

You’re up to your neck in cold case files. And crime that needs any sort of investigation is immediately your obligation. You’re a one person department and absolutely set up to fail.

When the FBI finally shows interest in the series of murders taking place throughout the city, you’re honestly relieved. Anything to ease your heavy workload. But it all changes when you meet him.

Agent Leon fucking Kennedy.

He’s a cocky bastard who undermines your department, which is solely you, constantly. He is unimpressed with the investigative work done on the case and won’t hesitate to insult your abilities as a detective.

And the man is basically untouchable.

He’s the FBI’s golden boy who can do no wrong. Everyone in the station worships the ground he walks on because he’s here to save the town, like a superhero. He’s the best of the best and everyone is expected to tolerate him. No exceptions.

It doesn’t help that he’s absolutely gorgeous. Always looking so well put together, a calculated appearance that never falters. Men and women alike gawk at the man. Whether they want to be with him or be him, you’d be stupid to not acknowledge it. 

A brown fringe cascading around his face. Pretty blue eyes matched with a prominent nose and jaw line, a dimple centered in his chin. Even the stubble lining his jaw is flawless. His eyebrows are knitted together in a permanent scowl. He looks like he despises the world and it makes him that much more enticing. 

And it pisses you off entirely. If he was just some mediocre, average looking man, it’d make hating him so much easier. But of course the jackass is incredible. It makes you wanna pour acid in your eyes just to give you your peace of mind back. Seeing is believing, right?

Without a single break in the case and no solid leads, you’re happy to take a step back from the case. It doesn’t mean you don’t care, but the crime rate in town has been steadily rising and you know you can help better elsewhere.

You walk into the station on what you thought was a typical Tuesday morning. But you’ve barely made it through the front door when you’re met with chaos.

People are running around, coming in and out of the station. The noise level is atrocious and has you wishing you’d caught the fucking plague because it would be less exhausting than this.

You barely make it five paces into the station when one of the coworkers you actually bother with appears at your side.

“It never stops, does it?” Jill says breathlessly.

You shake your head before replying, “What’s going on now?”

“Wait, you don’t know? Shouldn’t you be the first to know, actually?” She stops dead in her tracks, which in result causes you also to abruptly stop.

“Considering I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have no idea.” You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face her.

She sighs and places her hands on her hips. “They found another body early this morning. Everything matches up with the previous ones, so it’s basically confirmed to be one of his.”

“Another body? This will be his tenth fucking kill.”

“Thank God we got the FBI on it then?” Jill quirks an eyebrow at you, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

Jill is one of the few people seemingly in the world to not care for Leon’s bullshit. She can’t stand the man and isn’t afraid to voice it. She’s your number one defender and isn’t shy about arguing with the dreaded FBI agent.

“Maybe he’ll finally be good for something other than making my life a living Hell.”

Jill reaches out and squeezes your shoulder as she shakes her head. “But at what cost? Let’s hope the sweet, tender boy can magically solve the case and fuck back off to wherever he flew in from.”

Another coworker comes up and pulls Jill away from you. As she marches away behind the man, she turns and waves at you. You hate that you instantly wave back, but it’s Jill. You’ll look like a dork over and over for her sake.

You lower your hand and sigh, but before you can even begin walking again, a presence takes shape beside you.

“What are you doing?” An unmistakable snarky voice calls out to you. Your muscles instantly tense up in his presence, like your body is physically rejecting him and his aura.

You scoff as you begin walking again. “None of your business, Leon.”

You’re annoyed when Leon meets your big strides, keeping up with you pace for pace. You both remain silent as you quickly arrive at your office door.

You go to close the door behind you, but Leon pushes past, welcoming himself into your office. You’re frozen in place for a second in your confusion, but you quickly snap out of it and sink into your desk chair.

“What’s up?” You fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair. Being around Leon is exhausting and you can already feel this conversation draining you.

Leon doesn’t take a seat, instead choosing to stand tall above your desk, looking down at you.

“None of your business.” Leon mocks you in a shrill voice. 

“What’s up?” His eyes meet yours, locking in an intense stare.

“You need to address me properly. Agent Kennedy, not Leon.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the sudden authority in his voice. When he doesn’t speak up again, it prompts you to instead.

“Okay. But I would appreciate it if you addressed me properly too, Agent Kennedy.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

You quirk your head to the side, shocked by the pure audacity of this man. The audacity to demand respect when he can’t even give it. It’s infuriating.

“Well, Leon, I don’t appreciate being disrespected in my own-“

“Earn it.”

You shake your head in exasperation at his interruption. Yes. Infuriating is the best word to describe this man.

“What?” You release a heavy sigh, already exhausted from the few words exchanged.

“Respect is earned. Earn respect and you will receive it.”

“You haven’t earned-“

“I’m the FBI’s best asset when it comes to convicting serial killers, not to mention all of the side work I’ve done in homicide prevention and precaution. I’ve earned goddamn respect and I expect it, no exceptions.”

He slams his hands down on your desk, causing you to jump, your chair screeching across the floor as you put more space between you two.

Your voice is shaking as you throw your hands up in the air, “Fuck! Okay! Sorry, Agent Kennedy.”

He gives you a final death glare before backing up and causally stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. It remains silent as you two stare across the room at each other.

“Anyways, I needed to talk to you.” He finally sits in the chair and your shoulders visibly relax. You hate yourself for being so visibly nervous in his presence currently, but it was out of your control.

“What about?”

He clears his throat. “I don’t like it anymore than you do, but my bosses have instructed me to take you under my wing. Teach you what I know. And it’s my obligation to follow those orders and I think it’s in your best interest to do so as well. It would be very beneficial to you.”

Your eyes fall closed as you barely manage to hold back a groan. Your head falls back, scalp connecting with the back of your chair.

“You just made detective, correct?”

You sigh and look back up at him, “Yeah. Not even a month ago.”

“Then let me help you. There’s no one here to train you on how to be a good detective, a good investigator. I know a thing or two. You just have to let me help you. Also, it’ll be better on my conscience if I leave here confident in this station's sole detective.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m being serious. I have a lot to teach and you have a lot to learn. You’d be stupid to not take full advantage of this opportunity.”

You remain silent, lost in your own thoughts. You were confident with your abilities as a detective. Confident with your capability to solve cases, but he has the experience that you don’t. But he’s also Leon Kennedy and that alone is almost enough to make you say fuck no.

“How many people have died at the hands of this killer? That we know of so far.”

“9 I believe.”

“10 after the discovery this morning. And there could be more we don’t know about. You don’t wanna solve this case? Wanna bring this sick fuck to justice?”

“Well, of course-“

“Then work with me. How many more innocent people need to die?”

You release a heavy sigh. “Alright, alright. We have a deal or whatever.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Weeks have passed and Leon’s arrogance has only gotten worse.

The belittling, the undermining, just everything he does has you raging. You’ve given up on helping with the investigation because anything you do is scrutinized. You found a solid piece of evidence that could have easily been looked into, but he rejected it and told you to disregard it.

No matter how hard he tries to make you feel like it, you’re not an idiot. You’re a great detective and nothing about this situation is right. His behavior, his attitude, his methods of operation are all suspicious as hell, so how could you not look into him?

You’re not exactly sure what you were looking for. Maybe a sign that he was taking credit for work he didn’t actually do? Or maybe a sign of him planting evidence?

Why couldn’t you have just minded your goddamn business?

You’re the only two left in the station, working late on the case. To say things are tense is a fucking understatement if you’ve ever heard one. 

“Can I ask you a question, (Reader)?” 

Your head shoots up from your computer screen. The way he says your name has chills running down your spine, has you struggling to swallow. 

“Um, yeah. What’s your question?” 

His elbows are on the table, his chin resting on the backs of his clasped hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?” His tone is accusatory and it confuses you.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” 

“Don’t play stupid.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why were you looking into me?” He brings his hands down to the table and leans in closer to your side of the table. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

Your heart is in your throat as you struggle to find the words to explain yourself. “What kind of detective would I be if I didn’t?”

He snickers. “Answering a question with a question. Classic. But I’m not interested in beating around the fucking bush, so how about you just tell me what you were looking for.” 

You take a deep breath before straightening your spine and feigning a confidence you definitely don’t feel. “Okay. You’re suspicious as fuck. And I don’t trust you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“And what did you find?” He snaps at you. You don’t understand why he’s taking such offense to a detective doing detective work? He didn’t anticipate this? 

“Nothing. I didn’t find anything.”

“And do you still have your suspicions about me?”

“Yes.” You answer his questioning immediately. You’re not sure what compels you to do so, but your mouth moves faster than your mind. “I still don’t understand why you act the way you do.”

He looks away from you, pulling a file out of his briefcase and flipping through the papers inside of it. “What were you hoping to find?”

“I-” you’re once again stumbling over your words. No one has ever made you so nervous, no one has ever triggered your flight or fight as much as he does. Alarms are constantly going off in your head about him and you hate it. “I just wanted some answers.”

“Then fucking ask.” He slams the folder shut and tosses it down the table. “Ask me your questions. Don’t be a baby about it, going behind my back to find them. You’re a big girl. If you want answers, come and get them.”

“Why are you such a dick?”

“Because I can be. Next question.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Obviously.”

“We’re getting nowhere. Nevermind.”

“Wait!” You yell at him, reaching out and grabbing his wrist as he goes to stand up. “I’m sorry. You just piss me off.”

He pulls his wrist from your grasp with a disgusted look, but he doesn’t get up from his chair. He stares at you silently, which means he wants you to speak up. He’s so fucking entitled, you have to refrain from going off on him for the billionith time. 

“Why do you brush me off constantly? I bring you solid, concrete leads and you treat them like they’re nothing. You’re leaving so many loose ends. We’re not any closer to solving this case. Why?”

He hums at you like your question is invalid. You don’t know what you expected. Of course he was just going to be a prick like he always is. 

“That’s your perspective on it. A false perspective, but one nonetheless.”

“What does that mean?” The offense is obvious in your voice. More belittling, more brushing off your valid concerns. Of course. Of fucking course.

“Because I’ve followed every last lead and every little piece of evidence. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.”

“Bullshit!” You’re both surprised at your outburst. You can’t hold it back anymore. You can’t stand the lying and fucking diversions anymore. “I’ve been watching you, Leon. I haven’t seen you investigate shit. You pick and choose where you pay attention. This is the FBI’s very best? It’s fucking pathetic.”

He keeps his expression blank and neutral. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck it is you do that’s so fucking incredible that you’ve solved so many cases. Are you taking credit for other people’s work? Are you planting evidence? That’s the only thing that makes sense. You’re an opportunist. It’s like you’re just silently waiting to find the perfect person to blame. Is that it? You frame people to make yourself look better? What is it?”

Your voice is desperate and it’s genuinely embarrassing. But you are desperate. And you don’t wanna sit by anymore, not with the terrible suspicions constantly plaguing your exhausted mind. 

“You think I’m covering up for serial killers? You realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. It’s not that fucking farfetched.”

“Why would I do that?”

You let out a noise of frustration, “I don’t know! To make yourself look better? Everyone worships you for the work you’ve done. Maybe it’s for the praise and glory, to stroke your ego.”

He smirks at you and it only enrages you more. 

“You told me to ask you questions!” you yell at him, “Now give me fucking answers!”

“I don’t give a shit what people think. You think I would cover up for serial killers to make myself look better? That’s stupid.”

“Then maybe you have another reason!”

“Like?”

“I don’t fucking know! For all I know, you’re the serial killer and you just frame people to cover your own ass. Your job would be the perfect guise wouldn’t it?” It’s just word vomit pouring from your mouth at this point, but something about what you’ve said has Leon jumping to his feet.

Before you even have time to react, he’s leapt across the table. His hand wraps around your neck, pushing you back in your chair until you go crashing to the floor. You cry out in pain as your skull connects with the ground.

Your vision is fuzzy from the impact, but you slowly blink your eyes until they focus back in on Leon’s body hovering over yours. With the grip he has on your throat, you can’t speak. All you can do is look up at him and the unhinged expression on his face.

Leon shifts and there’s a sudden sharp, burning pain in your neck. Your arms shoot up and your fingers connect with the syringe in your neck. Your eyes widen in fear.

“Good detective work, baby. You’ve figured it out. Congratulations! You found your guy!” His smile is huge and combined with his crazy eyes, has you shaking beneath him.

The muscles in your body quickly start to tingle as you lose control of them, slowly going limp beneath him.

“Goodnight.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you pass out.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You’re awake, your eyes are open but your brain still isn’t able to process anything. You stare blankly as you try to actually wake up. The room is a blur and you can hear a voice calling out to you, but you can’t make out what it’s saying.

Sudden white hot pain has your consciousness finally catching up with you. You’re gasping for air as you finally take in your surroundings. 

The room is dirty, trash littering the floor around you. The only object in the room is a chair on the other side of the room.

“Good morning. Thought that’d wake you up.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position as Leon appears in front of you. He gently pats your head causing you to cower away from him, but he just laughs at you and walks over to the chair. Every step he takes makes a loud crunching sound as his shoes connect with the debris covering the floor. The only cleared spot is the space surrounding you, just enough for your body to lay in.

You try to speak, but all you can manage to do is cough. Leon sits leisurely in his chair as you struggle through your coughing fit.

The second it passes, while you’re still gasping for air, you call out to him, “Wha-what are you doing? What do you want?”

“Crawl to me.”

You look at him like he’s insane, and in all honesty he is, but he only smirks at the look you’re giving him. He leans back in his chair so casually, legs spread open as his left hand dangles between them. It pisses you off that he looks so good like this. Maybe if he hadn’t just kidnapped you, you would be more willing to appreciate how good the view definitely is.

“I said, crawl to me.” His voice is filled with venom as he points to the ground between his legs. He cannot be fucking serious right now.

You look at the stretch of floor between you two. It’s littered with broken glass and who knows what else. It’s obviously been intentionally spread around. This house may be old and abandoned, but the sharp shards are too clean and perfect to have been sitting here long at all. 

He wants you to crawl through shattered glass on your hands and knees to him. Kidnapping you wasn’t enough. Having complete control isn’t enough, he has to exercise it.

“Leon…” you struggle to find the right words, because what are you supposed to say? It’s obvious that you don’t want to crawl across this fucking floor. “Please don’t make me-”

You gasp as your body goes tense from a sudden, unfamiliar pain. It feels like several wasps just stung your neck, and as quick as it hits, it’s gone. 

Your muscles finally loosen and your hands shoot up to your neck, feeling some sort of rough fabric with a rectangular plastic box at the front of your throat.

“What the fuck is this?” Your voice is strained, still panting as you try to recover from the pain.

He chuckles at you. “You will address me as sir and you will crawl to me.”

Your fingers are still fiddling with the device strapped to your throat, trying to find some way to take it off. But it’s complicated not being able to see what you’re doing. Just when you think you might be able to slip a finger under the tight, firm fabric, the pain comes back.

The stinging pain is more intense this time and longer. You’re about to collapse, unable to keep yourself in a sitting position, when the pain once again subsides. 

You can’t stop the tears pouring down your cheeks, body still shaking and in shock from the intensity of the pain to your neck.

“Now. Stop fucking with your collar and crawl to me.” 

Your head shoots up to him at his choice of words. “Collar?”

He licks his lips while a look of amusement lights up his face. “Yes, dumb little bunny. A shock collar. To help you behave.”

The hand that’s been lazily lying between his legs flips around to reveal the remote in his palm. Your eyes widen as your pain riddled brain slowly catches up to the present. A fucking shock collar. He put a shock collar on you like you’re some fucking dog.

“Crawl. To. Me. Now.” He spits out angrily, his tone sending chills down your spine.

When you don’t make any movement, he makes a big show of fiddling with the remote. Taunting you, warning you. 

You let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, shit okay. I’ll crawl to you.” 

“Crawl to who?”

You push yourself up on your knees and lightly bring your palms to the ground, gently sitting them over top of the shattered glass. “You, sir. I’m going to crawl to you, sir.”

He relaxes in his chair once again at your answer, seemingly pleased with it. “Go on then. What’re you waiting for?” 

You take a few deep breaths, attempting to will yourself to move forward. You know you have to do this, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to make the first move.

“Unless you need some more motivation. We could make good use of that collar.”

Your eyes shoot up and look up at him pleadingly, “Please, no.”

“Then fucking move.”

Leon’s patience is completely gone and you don’t want to see what other lengths he’s willing to go to to punish you. 

You reach out with your right hand and your right knee slowly follows. You hiss out as your skin connects with some of the shards.

“That’s it, being such a good girl right now.”

Your breathing stops for a moment as a blush creeps up your neck at the praise. You’re so mad at yourself for your body’s reaction to his words. This is already fucking humiliating, how much worse can it get?

You move your left hand forward, breathing through the pain as it connects with the floor and your left knee follows. You’re going slow, being careful not to cut yourself up worse by being hasty. 

You move your right hand carefully, blood already spilling from the cuts and onto the glass covered floor. It’s making shards stick to your skin and making everything that much more slippery. 

Your right knee connects with the floor, right as the stinging pain returns to your throat. The sudden shock has you digging your knees, hands, and toes in the floor, heightening the pain you were already in.

The pain in your neck is once again gone and you’re left shaking and sobbing as blood puddles around your hands and knees.

“You know how to crawl. Go faster before you piss me off.”

You don’t know why you’re surprised he wants you to crawl faster, causing worse damage to your body. Of course he does. Why would you ever expect to be granted mercy?

You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. At least you won’t have to see the glass you’re crawling into.

You’re still crawling fairly slowly, but a lot faster compared to your previous pace. You’re whining and groaning in pain and you feel the glass embedded deeply in your skin connect with even more glass. Your lower legs and toes are dragging glass behind you.

You feel the burning pain throughout your hands and legs, but you focus on moving your body forward. 

“Open your eyes.”

You ignore his demands. You’re doing what he’s asking of you and he has the audacity to ask for even more.

“Look at me when you crawl to me. I will not tell you again. Unless you’d like another… shock of encouragement.”

You raise your chin up from your chest and shakily look up at him, opening your eyes. He smiles at you for listening to him and you wanna rip his fucking face off.

Your heart sinks when you realize you’ve only crawled half way so far. The pain is absolutely nauseating and you’re choking down the bile that keeps rising in your throat. 

You begin crawling once again, vision blurry from the tears that are continuously falling.

All you feel is the agonizing pain as you force yourself to Leon’s blurry figure. You’re on the verge of passing out from the pain when you finally place yourself between his legs.

He runs his fingers through your tangled hair, almost soothingly. And you want so badly to jerk your head away, to run from his movements, but you can’t help but give yourself over to the gentle touch. His comfort somehow pulls you back down to Earth from your pain induced robotic state.

“Show me your hands, bunny.”

You go to push yourself up but red hot pain rages through your hands and knees, causing you to scream out in pain. Your body goes to collapse from the sheer exertion, but Leon is quick to catch you, steadying you and forcing you on your knees with your wrists in his hands.

You’re shaking as the glass embedded into your knees is forced deeper into your skin beneath your newly distributed weight. You take deep breaths as you adjust to the new level of pain. Bile fills your mouth, but you’re able to force it back down, the burning sensation of it only adding to your misery.

Your eyes open again after shutting in response to the pain. Your vision clears and you find Leon studying your destroyed hands.

Blood is still oozing from your countless wounds, shards of glass sticking out of your palms and fingers. Your hands and forearms are covered in blood, you can barely see your skin tone through the mess. Your hands are unrecognizable. 

He tsks as he continues to look over them. “These are useless to me now. Shame.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words, not sure what the implications of his words are. He releases your wrists and you let your hands fall limply into your lap. When his hands move to his belt and he starts unbuckling it, you gasp and try to move away from him but are instantly met with sharp shooting pains in your legs from your injuries.

You’re stuck in place and there’s nothing you can do about it. Anything you could possibly need to do will require Leon’s help. Just how he planned it. 

Rope, duct tape, or any other typical restraints are so boring. Glass being embedded into your skin as you sit in your own blood? Now, that’s new and fascinating. You’re a cute little test subject for his vile thoughts and ideas.

He slides the zipper down his pants and you finally look down at what he’s doing. 

What the fuck? He’s hard, not just hard, but really fucking hard and about to pull his dick out right in your face.

Your throat is raw from your previous wailing so your words come out scratchy. “What, what are you doing?”

“Oh, baby… Look how hard you’ve made my cock. It’s only fair that you let me cream that tight, hot throat in return.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t be such a fucking prude.” He rolls his eyes as he stands before you, sliding his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to pop out, his tip poking your lips. You attempt to pull your head back, but his hand is quick to grab onto your hair and push your face into his cock. You’re frantically trying to turn your face away from him, but it only has him gripping your hair impossibly tighter.

“Now, now. You don’t need another shock of encouragement do you?”

“N-no. Please.”

“Then start sucking. And don’t try anything smart because I am more than happy to shock your annoying little ass again.”

Before you can even prepare yourself, he’s pressing his fingers into your cheeks and forcing your mouth open, immediately shoving his cock into the back of your throat. You’re instantly gagging. And you’re already so close to throwing up that you’re certain you’re going to puke all over this man's dick.

“See, princess? You don’t want me to do it my way. So fucking behave and don’t stop until I’m creaming that fucking mouth.”

He pulls his dick out and you’re immediately running your tongue up and down his tip. You’re ready to do anything to keep him from choking you like that again. 

“Make me cum in less than two minutes and maybe I’ll consider sparing you.”

You suck his tip into your wet mouth, the taste of his precum flooding your taste buds.

“There ya go. You’re so hot, all dirty and bloody for me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum so fast. Pretty bunny has such a good mouth when she’s not running it.” He chuckles at his own words as you quickly bob your mouth up and down on his dick.

“Just like that. You ready to taste me, baby? Need to cream this throat.”  He speaks quickly as he starts to thrust, meeting every bob of your head. His grip in your hair tightens as his hips still and he holds his tip against the back of your throat.

You resist the urge to gag and cough as you feel his cum fill your throat. You think he’ll never be done when he finally pulls himself from your mouth and stuffs his cock back in his pants. He refastens his belt and turns to walk away, but stops and looks down at you.

“Here.” He grabs your shoulder, causing you to gasp, as he pushes you down to the floor, until you’re laying on your back. “I’ll spare you.”

And then he’s quickly leaving the house, confident that you’re not going anywhere anytime fast. You realize you’re in less pain being off your hands and knees and breathe a sigh of relief. Your weight is distributed better over the glass, so your back and legs only tingle and sting slightly.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You’re not sure how much time passes as you drift in and out of sleep, but when the front door finally opens, you can’t mask your excitement at Leon finally returning.

“Leon?” You call out in a happy, relieved voice.

“Hi, bunny. How are you doing?” His tone is lighter than you’ve ever heard it before and it fills you with hope.

“I’m gonna piss my pants, can you take me to the bathroom?” The back of your legs are getting badly cut up because you can’t keep your body still as your bladder throbs and aches.

“Sweetheart, you’re so silly.”

His tone is mocking. “What?” You're obviously confused and it has him shaking his head.

“That’s not my problem.”

“I can’t get up.” You whine out, praying he’ll give in and help you.

“I know,” he coos at you, “You’re gonna have to just piss yourself then. But don’t worry, I’ll stay here and watch.”

“What?” 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It hurts so much.”

“And you know exactly what will relieve you of that pain don’t you?”

“But I can’t get myself up.”

“That’s too bad.”

You’re so fucking confused. You don’t understand what his game is here. It has to be about control, the humiliation it’ll bring you. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and try your best to pretend this isn’t happening, but the pain is only getting worse and worse.

“Bunny… Just relax. You’ll feel better if you just relax.”

“Fuck no, Leon. No fucking way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!” You open your eyes and give him a dirty look. “I’m not going to lay on the floor in my own blood and piss! What’s wrong with you?”

He smiles as he shakes his head, “You don’t have a choice, baby.”

You don’t know what to say to him. What can you say? Beg for his help? Hope he actually cares? It’s all so useless. You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut and clenching every muscle in your body. This is so stupid, so fucking stupid.

“You really want my help?” Leon breaks the silence, pulling you from your thoughts.

You look up at him once again, “Please.”

“Okay, I’ll help you.” You breathe a sigh of relief. He’s going to help you, there’s some sort of hope. If he can find it in himself to help you now, maybe you’ll be okay. Maybe everything will fall into place.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a familiar remote. Your eyes widen in shock, realizing what he’s about to do. “Wait, Leon, don’t-”

But you aren’t even able to finish your statement before the shocks are shooting into your body and every muscle tenses up in resistance. A few seconds feel like minutes before the pain stops and your body goes limp on the ground. Every muscle in your body softens.

Before you can even process what’s happening, before your mind even comes back to yourself, you register a warmth growing on your thighs and ass. The warmth spreads further as you come back to yourself.

The second you realize what’s happening, you wish you’d remained oblivious. You try to stop it, but your body is so weakened that you have no more control. 

You lay on the floor in your dried blood mixing with your hot piss. You’re no longer peeing, but the humiliation has tears welling up in your eyes.

The liquid starts to cool quickly in the chilly air and it has you shivering on the floor. It has you wishing you were dead.

Suddenly, Leon’s petting your head and hushing you. “You’re a good girl, you know that? Did such a good job for me.”

Your eyes dart up to his face. “What?”

“So pretty like this. All wet and helpless.” Your thighs clench together at the praise, furthering your humiliation. Leon notices immediately and smirks down at you. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

You whine as he lifts you in his arms. You’re slack in his arms because of the extensive injuries to your body. You feel your piss soaked body pressed against him and knowing your piss is getting on him makes you wanna vomit.

But that’s not the only thing you feel. This time it’s a lot less surprising, but doesn’t make things make any more sense. His erection pressed against your ass and you don’t have the energy to point it out or try to push yourself away from it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Thankfully, not a whole lot of glass is embedded in the skin of your back, so you can happily lay in the blankets piled on top of the mattress without causing yourself any more pain.

You lay with your arms against your sides, avoiding making contact with your hands. Every time you look at your hands, your stomach twists and turns at the deformed skin. They’re cut to shit and glass shards stick out haphazardly all throughout the skin.

“Are you comfortable?” Leon asks as he runs a cold, wet washcloth across your forehead.

“As comfortable as I can be.”

“Good, good.” Leon gets up and walks across the room. You let your eyes fall shut, your body crying out for blissful sleep.

You hear Leon’s footsteps approach your bedside, not bothering to open your eyes. You’re not even sure you could open your eyes if you wanted to.

“Baby, keep your eyes shut for me, alright?” You nod as he softly caresses your cheek, pushing your hair from your face. 

“Can you stick your tongue out for me? I got a surprise for you.” You hum in response, too tired to question him. But you couldn’t help the hope growing in your stomach at the thought he might finally give you some water or food.

You lol your tongue out as far as you can and feel him grab it with his thumb and pointer finger. He grips it tightly. You’re not sure why he’s doing it, but once again, you’re too exhausted to question him or resist it.

“This will be quick.” 

You make a “huh” sound as best as you can with your tongue in its current position, and that’s when you hear a disgusting snip sound followed by squelching. 

You start screaming as excruciating pain sets in. Your screams are cut short as you start choking on your own blood, the liquid pouring from the wound and slipping down your throat.

Leon grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a sitting position, allowing the blood to pour down your chin rather than your throat. Your body is shaking from the pain, you’re on the verge of passing out, feeling the darkness creeping up on you, awaiting to consume you completely.

“There you go, baby. I got rid of the thing that causes you the most trouble. You’re perfect now.”

Your tears pour down your face, mixing with the blood coming from your mouth. You look down at the bedspread in front of you and the sight of your severed tongue has your vision going foggy. You let out one final cry before passing out from the pain and blood loss.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It’s been fourteen years, but you still remember it like it was yesterday. You relive those events every fucking day of your miserable existence. It doesn’t help that you have optimal time to think about it in your small prison cell on death row.

Of course he handed you over to the police with some elaborate story on how he found you out and when he confronted you, you went crazy and mutilated yourself. And of course, you can’t properly defend yourself, considering he took your fucking tongue. You could write out your claims of innocence over and over, but how could you possibly convey it with words alone?

Leon framed you for all of the murders. Planted all the evidence at your apartment and in your car, “finding” all the overlooked leads in your office. It was a pretty open and shut case. Took the jury less than an hour to find you guilty and for you to get sentenced to death.

Tomorrow’s the day. You’ll finally get the lethal injection and be free from your own personal purgatory. You’re confined to a prison cell by yourself 24/7 considering if you show your face outside of it, other inmates are instantly on you. You’re America’s most brutal female serial killer, how could they not want to kill you?

It’d be too easy if the prison would just let the other inmates go through with it. Just put you out of your misery and throw your body into the prison’s graveyard. But no. No amount of suffering will ever be enough to pay for “your” crimes.

You hate yourself. You look at your unrecognizable, mutilated hands and all you can do is sigh as you slip one down between your spread thighs to relieve the ache you feel between them.

In your line of work, you were well aware that trauma could cross wires in your brain. You can’t control your trauma responses. But the fact that your pussy is always soaking wet when you think about his dick in your mouth and the praising words he spoke to you is torture in itself.

You try to think of anything else, anything else at all. Even when your fantasies don’t revolve around that man, you can’t get yourself off without thinking of what he did to you. 

As you lay in bed, shirt stuffed between your teeth to silence your sounds, you feel your climax grow closer and closer and his face above you is all you can see. And no matter how many times you go over it with yourself, telling yourself it’s a trauma response, you know the truth. You know that deep down you loved what he did to you and the only thing that makes you so angry is the fact that he put you here.

Here in this cold, lonely cell to waste away for the rest of your days. Leaving you with a heart, soul, and cunt that aches for him. You know what he’s done and you hate it, but you can’t bring yourself to hate him.

And as your wetness runs down your fingers, coating your palm in the proof of exactly what he does to you, all you can think about is that fucking day. You’re going to die tomorrow and here you are touching yourself to the man that put you here.

Your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a shaking and shivering mess in your threadbear sheets on your paper thin cot. It’d be so much easier to hate him, but you have the curse of hating yourself instead. 

Tomorrow you will die and pay for your crimes. And maybe the crimes you’ll be dying for aren’t yours, but you still deserve to pay for being so fucked in the head. So you’re happy, almost giddy to be dying tomorrow. 

Maybe you’ve gone mad, or maybe you were always mad to begin with and it took him coming along to pull it out of you. Either way, not like it fucking matters. You’ll still be dead and he’ll still be a free man. But you caught the killer and for that, you’ll always be a good fucking detective. 

~masterlist~

[avcnturine]

SO HE DOESN'T WANT TO TELL HIM.　♤　understandable. everyone had their secrets, and it paid to know when to pry and when to respect them. after all, though it probably bolstered his own chances of making it out here with everything intact, it didn't really matter whether or not the other did. if he really didn't have a plan besides evacuating the vulnerable, then that was just how the dice landed. though——something still tells him that's not quite the case. call it a hunch. but the aventurine of strategems doesn't have to know everything for it to all come together regardless.

quite the opposite ; he welcomes the challenge.

mister zhongli keeps his doubts, and the both of them their vigilance. anyway, there are more important things to focus on, like the way the grove descends rapidly to an uneasy quiet the further they go. as suddenly as the commotion around them had voided earlier at the bridge, the bustling garden is now as abandoned as its reputation should suggest ; a cold wind sweeps through dead leaves sapped of green at the onset of spring and dusty stone trails that looks like they haven't been walked in centuries, and the chattering voices of the day's visitors had at some indistinguishable point gone completely radio silent. he looks left and right, behind and before them, and all around there's no sign of another living being, the syncopated clicks of their steps on stone an unsteady metronome, ticking unprecedently loud, a single noise in a vast audience chamber carrying its echo toward some yet-unperceived end.

the powers of heliobi were still something of an unsolved mystery even to the people of the alliance who knew them best. some answers, the ten-lords commission knew but couldn't disclose ; others, he understands, elude even their experience in suppression and study. there hadn't been many chances to engage with the particularly strong ones for obvious reasons, and the sheer variability among the heliobi, their dispositions, and how their powers manifested, hardly helped.

suffice to say it's no exaggeration that he and this gentlemen were walking straight into the lion's den with a crude iron spear at their disposal at best.

when eventually they find themselves standing in another empty pavilion steeped deeply in shadow and he hears zhongli speak again, he'd almost forgotten he'd asked anything earlier at all and for a few seconds doesn't even realize he's addressing it. such a pronouncement of determination . . . and an odd timing picked for it, if you asked him. but when it does click, he responds only with an easy smile, mouth half-open to remark something on how he'd heard about liyue's fidelity to the idea of fair contracts and how such an answer was hard to see as a mark of good sportsmanship no matter how he cut it——when it turns out that life and death wasn't so poorly-timed as he'd thought after all.

the heliobus takes quick advantage of their distraction, and the blue-green fire that encircles them towers high ; its colors ripple and weave, burning not at the eyes when he makes the mistake of looking at them directly but at something intangibly deeper, making him feel too light on his feet in short seconds and their surroundings a little too distant.

zhongli's hand is in his own the next instant, heavy lodestone to the swimming whorl, and he watches his own feet stumble after, watches a glimmer of gold erect and the pale fires part around it, burning and scratching and choking. it pours in, threatening to shatter, an opening sensation like nothing he's ever felt before finding the seam of every part of his throat and burrowing where the tongue does.

possession starts with an asphyxiation of the soul, driving the brain into something purely biological. it's a fascinating thought, but one he can't afford just yet. "hgk——kkgghh!" before they can be overtaken, some subterranean impulse digs out the last line of defense he's procured and burns it, bamboo paper and eight-knot string, against the flame behind them. such that when he jumps at last behind zhongli, it's with a breathless freefall that he can truly feel, the frustrated scream of an apparition lost behind them ; and when he lands, hard, all impact on disoriented joint and knees to ground no softer than concrete, it's with the rattling pain of all its force up his bones, scuffed glove curling to fist against the stone as he muscles to his feet with a heady laugh.

they're running, adrenaline racing, because there's no time left for talking, and if they'd wanted to be more prepared, they should've done more of that earlier. the exorcism tag was the only one he'd had, and admittedly he thought he'd be able to hang onto it for a bit longer. but it'd done what it was supposed to——not saved his life, necessarily ; rather, showed him just how far that life could be wagered.

"a suppression tower——ghn——not far ahead. second on your right, if you still want to plan."

the lamps on either side of the path are coming alight behind them: blue flames chasing, clattering like skulls.

"otherwise you'll need to find an appropriate stage. . . oh, and just in case i wasn't completely clear earlier——don't worry about me, mister zhongli. no matter what happens, you just do what you need to and everything'll be fine."

| like calls to like |

Gnostic Hymns, Fyxestroll Garden Commission

[mollygetssherlockcoffee]

Fifteen Minutes

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!Reader

Summary: (Five Minutes, Part 2!) Y/N only has fifteen minutes until the timer runs out. 

Warning: Kidnapping, talks of death and stabbing

Words: 2,022

A/N: Here’s part two! I’m surprised at how many people wanted to be tagged in this, to be honest!

Part One HERE!   Part Three HERE!  Part Four HERE!  Part Five HERE!  Part Six HERE!

Master List HERE    Permanent Tag List HERE

It was cold when you woke up but the room was bright from the fluorescent bulb in the middle of the room. Unlike the first time you woke up, you felt neither dizzy nor sick. You slowly pushed yourself up into a sitting position, blinking your surroundings into focus.

While you were still in the basement, you were no longer in a cage. Whoever had taken you must have come in while you were passed out.

 With a groan, you push yourself to your feet, stumbling for a moment before you catch you footing. You slowly make your way around the basement, your eyes taking in everything. There walls and floors are a matching grey concrete. There’s a set of filing draws to the side of you and you reach over, grasping the handle and pull it. Its locked. A single mattress lays on the floor to the left you, a dirty pillow on top. A washer and dryer sit on either side of a small set of concrete steps.

 Steps. You push yourself over to the steps, scrambling up them and pushing at the doors. They don’t budge, locked shut tightly. You growl to yourself, huffing out a puff of air and turning to face the basement. You eyes catch sight of the wall directly opposite you, which had previously been behind your back, and gasp in shock.

 You slowly go back down the stairs and make your way towards the far wall. At the top of the wall is an LED message sign display with a blank screen. A set of four pictures line the wall under it. In each photo, the girl appears to be sleeping, the photo taken without their knowledge. They all have Y/H/C hair, just like you, in a similar style too. The man who had taken you, the unsub as you’d normally refer to him, has an obvious type.

 Under each photo is a piece of paper, different information contained on each.

 Photo one:

 Didn’t complete the first task. Stabbed. Deceased.

 Photo two:

 First task, complete. Key found. Refused to participate in second task. Stabbed. Deceased.

 Photo three:

 Didn’t complete the first task. Stabbed. Deceased.

 Photo four:

 First task, complete. Key found. Second task, complete, maze was solved. Failed task three. Stabbed. Deceased.

 You took a deep breath, fighting to not give a visible reaction. You didn’t know whether there was hidden cameras within the basement and you didn’t want to give off a reaction. The unsub was a sexual sadist, evidenced by the stabbing of his victims and the display of his crimes. He was aiming to strike fear into his victims.

 From the limited information provided, you gathered that the unsub had set up tasks for you. Task one appeared to be finding a key, while the second was to solve a maze. However, no information was given about the third task and you didn’t know whether there would be more tasks after the third.

 A beep sounded and you looked up. Words flashed on the LED message sign display.

 Find the key. You have 15 minutes.

 -

 After searching through the security cameras surrounding the road where Y/N had disappeared, and finding nothing, Garcia had turned to the missing persons and unsolved crimes database. She had looked for other women who looked like Y/N that could be missing or dead. She had found four women, each sharing a striking resemblance to Y/N.

 Spencer stared at the pictures in front of him. Each of the women in the photos looked like Y/N. The had the same eye colour, the hair colour and cut in the same style. While the heights of the women were different, though the difference was minute.

 The first woman, Lydia Webb, went missing four months ago and still had not be found. She had closed the shop she worked at before leaving for home but when she didn’t show up the next day, they had sent an employee to her house to check on her. When they got no answer upon knocking on the door, they had contacted the police.

 The second was Abigail Goodman, who had went missing three months ago. She had went missing after walking home alone after having dinner with her friends. Her body had been found two weeks after she went missing. Multiple stab wounds lined her body, a definite sign over overkill.

 Amy Radner was the third victim and had went missing two months ago. She hadn’t returned after leaving the house to go shopping. She was found a week later, her body covered in stab wounds.

 The woman in the final picture was of Rebecca Clarke, who had disappeared while walking home from the gym last month. When she had been found, her nails were worn down and her fingers covered in cuts, as if she had been clawing at something. As with the previous two victims, she had been stabbed multiple times.

 From the similarities of the women and the matching methods of death, it was agreed that the women had been killed by the same unsub, those this should have been identifiable to local police. Hotch has spoken to the local police department, his displeasure of them not having identified the pattern or called in the team for help clear. He was quick in taking over the case, now that a federal agent had been taken.

 From the information of the women, it was deduced that it was unlikely that the unsub knew Y/N was an FBI agent. None of the women held similar jobs, nor did they take the same route all the time. Abigail had visited a new restaurant the night she had disappeared, Amy had planned to go to a new store which was just opening, and Rebecca had missed her bus. It was unlikely that the unsub had been stalking the women, or Y/N.

 Having information of where the women were taken and the locations of where their bodies were found, Spencer worked on the geographical profile. It was difficult, however, as the locations spanned across a large section of the North East Virginia.

 Spencer sat back in his chair. All of these women, including Y/N, had gone missing without any witnesses. How could that happen, though? Someone must have seen something, anything, which could help them. People don’t just vanish, that only happened in movies.

 Spencer couldn’t help but think about what Y/N must be going through. She had to be scared, worried. While that thought was horrible, he much preferred it than to considering the fact that she could be dead already.

 No, Y/N was alive. First, the medical examiner had said that each woman had been held captive, alive, for at least twenty-four hours. Y/N had been missing for eighteen. Y/N still had at least six hours, and Spencer didn’t doubt that Y/N would be able to last longer.

 Secondly, if Y/N was dead, Spencer was sure he would be able to feel it. There would be a shift in the air, a large twist in his already knotted stomach. He would be able to feel it, he would just know.

 Still, he refused to entertain the idea of Y/N being dead. She couldn’t die. She was smart, kind, funny, patient. She would roll her eyes when he told one of his facts – not in a mean way, but in the ‘Oh, okay, smart ass’ playful way. She would stand beside him when meeting new people, like local officers, and wave rather than shake their hands in a bid to make Spencer’s physical touch eversion look less strange.

 Y/N was the best friend he could ask for, but Spencer would be lying if he said he didn’t want more. His crush had formed the moment she had walked into the bullpen. She had looked beautiful, her hair pulled back from her face and her Y/E/C eyes darting around, biting your lip, as she looked for Hotch’s office.

 It had taken him a while to speak to her. He wanted to talk to Y/N, he really did, but his words always seemed to freeze in his throat. Well, that was half true. He could speak to her about cases but anything outside of work, he couldn’t get the words out. His brain seemed to shut off, the words failing to form in his mind.

 However, on the flight home from a case he had caught a glimpse of Y/N’s phone screen as she watched the trailer for a new Marvel movie. That had seemed to spark something in his mind and he was able to speak to her.

 Since then, speaking to Y/N had been easier and their friendship had grown. They had been friends for nearly four years now. They had their own inside jokes, they could have silent conversations with each other just by send the other person a look. They also worked in unison, rarely needing to speak to split tasks in half, or work around each other.

 Though Spencer knew Y/N was alive for now, he worried for her. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. He wanted to find her, to bring her home. He wanted to look after her, make sure she was alright. He wanted to the opportunity to tell her how he feels.

 Spencer just hoped that they would find Y/N soon.

 -

 You had searched everywhere. The mattress had been flipped; the pillow thrown across the room. You had pulled the compartments of the washer and dryer apart, looking for the stupid key. You had ripped the pictures and paper from the walls, thinking that the key might have been stuck on the wall. You had also climbed onto the filing cabinet, standing on your tiptoes to see if the key was hidden atop the LED sign but there was nothing.

 The only place you hadn’t checked was the filing cabinet itself, but it was locked. You crouched in front of the cabinet, looking at the lock. You weren’t strong enough to pull it open but there had to be another way. You bit your lip, your hand reaching up to scratch your head as you looked around the room in thought.

 Your fingers come into contact with something hard in your hair and your eyes widen in realisation. You quickly pull out the bobby pins, thankful for the early fly-away hairs which needed to be pinned back from your face. You were even more thankful for Spencer.

 When you had forgotten the key to your desk a few weeks back, Spencer had been quick to show you how to pick the lock using bobby pins. At the time, you had thought that you wouldn’t need the skill again but now you were thankful for him insisting you learn it.

 You looked at the clock.

 Seven minutes, forty-two seconds.

 You bent the bobby pins, quickly slotting the first one into the lock. The second bobby pin, which was now mostly flattened, was inserted in above the first. You jingled the bobby pin, searching for the small pins of the lock which you would need to push up.

 You gritted your teeth, closing your eyes to concentrate. You could feel your heart pumping ferociously in your chest and your breath came faster. It felt like it took forever, to the point where you were sure the timer would run out before you made it but then you feel the clicks.

 The draw gives and begins to open. You look at the clock again.

 Two minutes, fifty-seven seconds.

 You pull the first draw open. Its empty.

 You pull the second draw open and inside is a piece of paper. You pick it up and turn it over, reading the words ‘Not in this one, either’.  You growl in annoyance, throwing the paper behind you as you reach for the final draw. The draw is empty.

 All the draws in the cabinet are empty and you look back up at the clock.

 Two minutes.

 You have two minutes to complete the task before you die, and you can’t find the key… What were you going to do?

Permanent Tag List: @sskhair​ @sammypotato67​ @spencerreids-wife​ @yoongi-holland​

Five Minutes Tag List: @you-got-me-starry-eyed​ @yourlocalnorah​ @mandapanda8 @gia-kerks​ @hailmaryyramliah​ @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @mailikestruecrimetoomuch​ @fandomgirl17​ @eldahae​

If you want to be removed, please contact me! If you want to be added, please visit my Tag List post or comment!

[hubbytaeil]

4, 23, 70 with doyoung

Doyoung + #4 I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified, #23 Can I kiss you?, #70 I know I should’t but I miss you

genre: angst

word count: 2308

summary: Doyoung thinks him disappearing from your life is best shot you have at happiness, until he is faced with the harsh reality.

ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗʷᵒ ˢˡᵒʷ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉʳˢ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ

There wasn’t any reason for Doyoung not to accept an invitation to dinner from you. In the few seconds it took him to read your message he seemed to forget how you didn’t talk for months after the announcement of your engagement. He had congratulated you, of course, even if the sight of the astounding rock adorning your hand had broken him down. Perhaps that was when Doyoung realised that, somewhere along the way, to him you had become more than a good friend. 

The way your eyes gleamed while glancing at your future husband was the most beautiful yet heart-breaking scene Doyoung had ever witnessed. He truly was happy for you; he was glad to finally see you settling down. Yet, that night, there was bitterness in every sip of champagne, in every laughter exchanged, in every single look he would steal from you from across the table. He avoided the word ‘love’ at all costs when he would explain his situation to his friends, frightened that pronouncing it would make it real. It would’ve made the pain tangible; it would’ve pervaded every corner of his mind; it would’ve made him avoid every street where he could run into you. Doyoung cared for you, that never changed, but he also cared for his heart to remain intact. That night he had walked home alone, his phone in between his fingers, busy typing and deleting everything that would fill the empty message.

‘I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.’  

Doyoung read the unsent message over and over, but the tipsiness didn’t get the best of him. He took pride in having chosen your happiness instead of his. He quickly deleted the draft. As he made his way down the street, he looked up at the starless sky. He was smiling but there were tears in eyes.  

Doyoung could feel his every step get heavier and heavier. Why were you even meeting up in the first place? There were just unsolved questions clouding his mind. Moreover, he was troubling himself by what he was going to say. A part of him wanted to come clean, confess all of his burdens.  

I know I shoudn’t but I miss you. That was going to be his opening line. Another part of him would never want you to be part of his despair. You were going to get married and have a beautiful life, it didn’t matter if Doyoung was not going to be in it. He stopped his grave walk when he reached the entrance of the restaurant. You could be seen through the massive glass windows, dressed in your favourite colour which made Doyoung smile to himself. You seemed nervous and it made him uneasy, but the thought of avoiding this encounter didn’t cross him mind long enough for him to turn it into reality. He was glad to finally spend some time with you and get his well-deserved closure.

So Doyoung walked in, like a soldier ready for war. When you raised your gaze to him the outcome of the battle was already decided. Doyoung would’ve lost.

The dinner went surprisingly well compared to Doyoung’s expectations, since you two had a lot to catch up on. He couldn’t help but notice how there were still some topics you hadn’t touched in the least. Not even once you had ever pronounced the words ‘marriage’, ‘fiancé’, ‘reception’ or anything of the sort. Doyoung was contempt enough in listening to your every word and every anecdote regarding work. He couldn't bring himself to bring up the questions he was dying to ask, especially not after seeing that you weren’t wearing your ring. Maybe you just preferred not to wear such an expensive ring all the time, he thought remembering how meticulous you were. Doyoung was sure that there was a logical explanation so he convinced himself not to think about it too much.

“And so, she stormed out of the classroom after I told her she was going to fail my class.”

“I didn’t take you for the teacher who made her students cry.” Doyoung joked after taking a sip of water.

“Well, crying won’t get her anywhere with me. I’ll give her three days before she comes back begging me to help her.” You asserted setting your fist on the table, trying to empathize your point.  

“Is this how you treat your fiancé?” Doyoung laughed but this time you didn’t laugh with him. The comment had come out unexpectedly and he knew it was a mistake as soon as he looked at your eyes slowly losing their light. You stayed impassive for what felt like the longest seconds in Doyoung’s life. Silence, filled by the clicking of glasses and inaudible chatter that only amplified the gut feeling that something was wrong.  

You gazed at your plate and then at Doyoung, beaming at him.  

“That’s just how I treat everybody, you know me.”  

Doyoung exhaled at your answer that only left him with more doubts. But he also was glad that those past months hadn’t thrown your friendship in the scrapheap. You know me. He repeated those words in his head over and over. Yes, I know you.

“Jungwoo told me he saw you the other day.” Doyoung quickly tried to change the subject, clearly, he hadn’t succeeded in doing so. You let out an embittered chuckle.  

“Did he tell you why he saw me?”

Needless to say, Doyoung was starting to break a sweat as he felt like you were a riddle impossible to solve.  

“No, actually he didn’t. Did something happen?” He stressed the last sentence as much as he could, as if to say you can tell me anything, you know it. He kept his eyes on you for as long as he could, afraid of your every movement. Afraid that you might even dissolve into thin air if he looked away for too long.

“I called him to help me move out.”  

“But I thought you already lived with Jaehyun.” You smiled at yourself, not looking directly at the man sitting in front of you, setting your eyes on the hands of the bartender pouring bourbon inside an old man’s glass. Doyoung was a good a person, you always knew that, someone who always looked at the bright side of things. A person that, when tragedy stroked, was ready to sweep away the broken pieces.  

“Oh.” Doyoung finally saw the bigger picture and felt a little ashamed, even if all he did was just not running directly to worst case scenario.  

“Yeah, it was pretty rough. But don’t worry, we’re on good terms now. I got a nice new apartment all by myself, nice view and all.” You were smiling, yet the curve of your lips looked like scar. Doyoung’s heart was pounding restlessly in his chest at the thought of you going through that awful situation alone. He remembered that incredible woman he had saw months prior at her engagement party. He couldn’t see her anymore and it made him weak.

“Are you going to be okay?” Doyoung took your hand in his, noticing how cold it was. He observed how you studied that small gesture of sympathy. He wondered if someone had even asked you a question like that lately.  

“I will try.” That response was enough for Doyoung, you were still the person he had grown to love. He was determined to keep what was left of your fire alive.  

“I know you will.” Doyoung’s grip tightened softly. “I know you.”  

Doyoung agreed on getting some fresh air after dinner.

You had gone past the uncomfortable conversation about how Jaehyun had realised only after popping out the question that he wasn’t ready for marriage.  

“Well, he always looked kind of indecisive.”

“I guess we got the final proof.” It was wonderful for Doyoung to hear your laughter again, even when it came from a place of self-pity.  

“I know someone has probably said this to you already, but he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Doyoung affirmed, as sternly as he could. He saw you curiously eyeing at him, then you delicately put your arm in his.

“Actually, you’re the first one to say that. Thank you.” you stated, hiding a hint of melancholy in your voice. Doyoung kept you at his side, walking with you along the river promenade. How lucky he felt to be with you like this, he questioned how someone could simply let go such a wonderful person.  

“Why did you never reach to me after... you know...” you suddenly asked leaving Doyoung dumbstruck.  

“I just... thought you’d be too busy.”

“For seven months?” he was taken back by your precise memory, then he remembered who he was talking to.  

“You didn’t reach out to me either.” Doyoung pointed out.

“I was going to... but then one day I saw you on the street.”

Doyoung got a lump in his throat.

“I called your name and you turned the other way.” your voiced trembled. Your steps stopped; you were now face to face. Doyoung couldn’t run away anymore.  

“Y/n...”

“Was it something I said? Something I’ve done? Please Doyoung, I’ve been torturing myself for months, thinking about what I could’ve done wrong.” Cold tears made their way across your cheeks. As Doyoung witnessed this he couldn’t help feel ashamed. He had been haunting your mind, while all he had done was pushing you away. He put a hand on his mouth overwhelmed by everything that was being uncovered.

“You did nothing wrong, y/n.” his voice wasn’t stable, another word and he knew it would’ve been the end.  

“Then why do you hate me?!” you sobbed, unable to contain yourself. You went on, uttering sentences, that would lose their direction in the middle, on how bad you had felt when Doyoung had stopped talking to you, how terribly alone and humiliated you had felt when Jaehyun had called off the engagement while you were visiting your family, how you wished you could’ve just called him during that awful period, until all one could hear were broken sobs. That’s when Doyoung broke.

“It was too painful knowing that you were someone else’s!” Doyoung shouted, fists tight as tears rolled down his face as well.  

“I couldn’t bear the thought of you walking down the aisle to a man that wasn’t me, I thought it would’ve been better to step aside. But I never hated you, I could never. God, I could never hate you. And now I realise how my decision has hurt the both of us.”  

Your sobs slowly ceased, Doyoung tried to make sense of your reaction. You stood there in front of him, wiping your cheeks, hesitant on what to say. Doyoung’s head lowered, feeling guilty for the pain he had caused you.  

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” you finally spoke but he still couldn’t look at you in the eyes.  

“It was too late when I realised how I felt about you.” He sighed turning to the side, his dark eyes reflecting in the city lights.  

“How late?” you almost chuckled at the last word but you refrained yourself.  

“On the day you announced that you were getting married.” He noticed your body getting stiff at the confession.  

“Doyoung...”

“You looked so beautiful, so happy. I wish had taken a picture, Jesus. After I saw that ring on your finger, I just wanted to disappear. But I only caused you pain and-”

You wrapped your arms around him before he could finish his sentence and tear up again. You held him closely, burying your face in the crook of his neck.  

“You suffered too Doyoung. God, I feel so stupid.”  

“Don’t say that.”

“I should’ve known.”  

You stayed entangled, in between sobs and a few reassuring words. It felt like putting together the broken pieced again. Doyoung eventually leaned back and look at you as you attempted to fixed your now ruined make up. He chuckled softly telling you that there was no need and that you looked gorgeous either way. His tender smile was replaced by a shocked expression when you pressed your palm on his cheek. When he perceived you leaning forward his mind went blank. Before you could get any closer you stopped.

“Can I kiss you?” you whispered gently and he thought it was all a dream. If he had rubbed his eyes he would’ve woken up, you would’ve been no longer close enough for him to hear your heartbeat. Therefore, he could only bring his hand on your waist and wrap you even closer to him and hope that he would never wake up. You smiled tenderly after getting his permission. Slowly you united your lips in a sweet peck. It wasn’t a dream. His grip on you was firm as your lips passionately let go of all their fears, of all the unspoken secrets. Doyoung took his time with you, rejoicing in every kiss, making them last for as long as he could. It was home. It was the right place to be. You delivered one sweet kiss before leaning back to admire Doyoung’s peaceful expression.  

“What happens now?” Doyoung asked, caressing your lower back. What happens now? You hand travelled to his chest so that he could squeeze you in even tighter.

“I don’t know.” You aligned his face to his, your noses touching. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We can decide. So how about we start over?”

Doyoung beamed at you looking like the happiest man who had ever walked the Earth. He freed himself from your embrace, leaving rather disoriented.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Doyoung.” he exclaimed, putting his hand forward. You wasted no time before shaking it.

“Nice to meet you too, I’m y/n.”

[heyyouwiththeassbutt]

His Good Little Girl - Part 1

Summary - A mission goes wrong and you’re put on probation away from your team for months. Does Steve have another reason to keep you away?

Pairing - Dark!Steve Roger x Reader

Warning -  Smut in future chapter. DUBCON. Dark!Steve. Altered Personality.

Word Count - 2,367

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

Things with Captain Steve Rogers had never been great. Your work relationship had gotten off to a terrible start when you'd first met him, at the tail end of a recon mission that you shouldn't have even been a part of. Your bunkmate at the time had over drunk the night before and you had stupidly agreed to take her place within the mission without informing, well, anyone. The brief she had given you hadn't covered a pretty big issue within the mission and it ended up almost costing you and several other civilians your lives.

That night when you had stood in front of Nick Fury, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in the Stark Compound executive office, battered and bruised, you thought that you were truly done for. Shockingly, Tony had been the first to brush off the incident as a new agent who had too much faith in her team, Nick eventually following suit in the agreement, reprimanding you in your lack of following protocol, but otherwise, just relieved that everyone had left with their lives intact and that the mission had ended in success.

Steve, however, was livid. He talked for a long time about duty and what was right and wrong, then finally leading into a tirade about how your team is there to help both you and the rest of the country, but that does not mean that you take it upon yourself to change the plans of any mission, that your leaders come before your team.

You'd scoffed at that. You hadn't meant to, truely. The noise slipped past your lips without your consent as your mind recounted the stories of Captain Rogers and the Winter Soldier. Knowing instantly, as the room went silent, that you'd made a huge mistake, you shut your eyes and tilted your head towards the floor.

The conversation that followed was about as expected. While Nick was technically your highest point of command, Steve called the shots when it came to your unit. You were placed on three months probation, confined to doing work within the stark tower and for all intents and purposes had your SHIELD agent perfect record thrown in the trash.

Three months of working in the tower hadn't been easy, especially with Steve seemingly around every corner. SHIELD agents weren't as common within the tower as you had expected, excluding a few security details on major incidents, so you were almost always alone. Tony had gifted you the use of the Avengers common area since they spent most of their time at the compound now that things were quieter, you had only bumped into any of the avengers a small hand full of time, excluding Steve.

After the first week, you had thought it strange that he was there so often alone, but after a month you had grown beyond suspicious that he was, in fact, spying on you. He never said a single word, but he didn't seem to be hiding that he was following you either. Being the good soldier that you were, you said nothing and carried on with your work, always aware that your job was on the line if Steve caught you slacking for even a moment.

Clocking in on your final day, the smile that graced your face was immovable. The work here hadn't been that bad, lots of paperwork, running checks, going through old, unsolved case files to check for any new leads, but you wanted so badly to be back in the field. You hated to admit it, but you missed your team. Your roommate had been moved to another room, leaving you in your bunked room alone for a week before you'd come back one day to find the upper bunk had been removed and you were left in your sad little single.

Doris, the polite older woman who had been giving you your daily roles every morning met you at the elevator as she always did. She wasn't talkative, had only once strayed off the basic guidelines for your days duties to tell you about a nasty computer virus her daughter had gotten off the 'social medias' and warned you to be careful when you went online, but she had become the only constant in your life for the last three months, so you had grown fond of the woman.

Today, her hands were empty, no sign of the clipboard she always held. A sense of dread filled you, but you didn't show it, the smile still on your lips as you greeted her.

"Captain Rogers has requested your presence in the Avengers common area."

Nodding slowly, you fought a grimace. You thanked her and stepped into the elevator, disappointed when she did not follow and instead went off on her merry way. You hit the button for the upper level, carried out your retinal scan then gave a quick hello to FRIDAY as she confirmed the floor and wished you a good morning.

When the elevator doors slid open, the nervous pit in your stomach had grown several sizes, but you kept a happy, relaxed expression as you made your way to the commons.

When you arrived, Steve was lounging on the couch, a cup of coffee in hand and a file in the other that he was reading intently. You stood on the other side of the coffee table, hands behind your back to hide the nervous fidgeting as you waited for him to look at you.

Several minutes past. You knew he had heard you come in, there was no chance he didn't see your movements in the corner of his eye, but still, he ignored you. After a few more moments, you cleared your throat. He glanced up at you, before going back to continue his reading.

Tension hung in the air as you felt your composure slipping away, "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

He nodded but stayed silent. Your heart was actually pounding in your ears at this point. Although you hated to admit it, the last three months of being followed around had really gotten to you. While you trusted Steve, the avengers and those at SHIELD, you had become paranoid that someone was always watching.

Now, standing in front of Steve,  him purposefully not looking at you, not watching... This was worse.

"C-Captain?" You cursed yourself for the nervous stutter. You were trained to keep your cool for fuck sake.

He didn't even look up this time, just set his coffee cup on the table beside him and held up a single finger for a moment before that hand went to the file as well, flipping the page. You knew what he was doing; trying to throw you off balance, get you worried. It was working. Time dragged on as you stood there, your gaze going from the floor, to him, to the time displayed on the wall near the kitchen area.

Half an hour had passed since you walked into the room. You were almost shaking as the tension built beyond anything you had felt before. Trying to distract your mind, you had planned what you were going to do for dinner tonight, thought about that new game you'd been playing and had gotten stuck on, literally thought about anything your brain could come up with to ease the nerves growing within you. Steve still sat on the sofa, cool as a cucumber, no sign at all that he had you at your wits end in front of him.

Mercifully, as you had been about to lose the battle with a sob building in your throat, Steve folded closed the file, set it on the coffee table and looked up at you. The silence remained.

"Am I being fired?" You ask quietly, if anything just to break the silence that was suffocating the room.

Steve shrugged and a small whimper left your lips.

"Why do you think you're being fired?" Steve finally spoke. His tone was cold, not at all how he had been when you had seen him with the other avengers at the compound all those times.

"I-I... I don't k-know." Falling over your words, you shuddered, your hands behind your back gripping each other so tightly you were worried you may be bruising yourself.

Leaning back on the couch, slinging an arm over the back of the cushion beside him, he spread his legs slightly, the epitome of casual. You knew right then that he was fucking with you on purpose.

He pointed to the space in front of him, between his open legs and the coffee table, "Come."

Blinking in surprise, you stood dumbfounded for a moment before he raised an eyebrow and you complied, standing in front of him, your leg brushing against his as you moved into the space, the back of your knees touching the coffee table to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. Your gaze settled on the floor, your cheeks becoming hot as you worry about what he is going to say.

"No. On your knees."

Your head snaps up to look at him, eyes wide in confusion. You didn't know what to do. Your mouth opens and closes as you try to get words to filter from your brain to your lips, but nothing comes out.

He pins you with a ferocious glare and all at once you comply, your body working of its own volition as you kneel in front of him, the sole of your feet and your back pressed against the coffee table.

Raising an eyebrow again, he lifts his hand and pulls a finger towards himself in a 'come here' motion. You can't help it and you whimper again. Your brain is totally muddled. This isn't the Steve you've heard so much about.

Slowly, you move forward, your hand momentarily leaning on the couch beside his leg as you slid closer. When you're between his legs, you start to move your hand to your lap, but he grabs it, giving you a sharp tug so that you're as close to him as possible, this legs on either side of your body, entrapping you within his confines as you let out a yelp.

Momentarily, you think about running, but this is Steve Rogers. He would not only catch you but even if he didn't, who the hell would believe you?

His hand is on your chin, pulling your head up so that you're looking at him. Featured still relaxed, a small smile on his face, you wonder what the fuck is going on as fear grips you.

"Why do you think you're being fired?" He asks again, his grip still strong on your chin as he leans forward, close enough that you can smell the coffee and mint toothpaste from his warm breath.

You have no idea how to answer the question. You did what you were told to do, you thought you had righted your wrong. You pause for a few moments, trying to think of any mistakes you've made in the last three months, but find none. You sob quietly as you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes. You worked so hard to get to where you were.

Sighing, he releases your chin and leans back again, "Tell me how we met."

"We were on the mission... The one I shouldn't have been on." You answer quickly. He nods for you to continue.

"You saved me... I-I was surrounded, the brief I was given didn't account for me being the only one available to get the file packs from the lab so I didn't know there were guards stationed inside as well. I thought I was in the clear when I knocked out the two outside. You came in after me, I was on the floor, you took the guards down."

He waited for you to continue, but that was it, that's all you remembered. You'd been hit hard, were face down on the floor. You heard a crash, then you were in the air on the jet back to the compound.

"I think that something broke?" You asked, not sure if that was what he was talking about.

He grinned, a smile so wide it would rival the Cheshire cat. You blinked in slow understanding as you thought about the mission. There had been reports of a lab making airborne weapons for the highest bidder. Some members of your team had been borrowed to help out as there had already been 4 vials of unknown gases found, each containing totally different chemical characteristics that changed people's brain functions and it was a growing concern for SHIELD. Thats how your bunkmate had put it anyway.

"You've been infected by what was in those vials." As you spoke, panic filled you. You'd been right. This wasn't Steve, but you weren't sure if that was a good thing anymore. Having been at Stark Tower, you hadn't heard anything else about the vials. Your mind clicked as you realised that was intentional.

"You sent me here so that you wouldn't be found out. I thought it was a lamp or a window smashed, that's what I put in my report. You didn't want anyone to know you that it's in your system. What has it done to you?"

The smile on Steves face hadn't faltered as you had been speaking, a small chuckle leaving his lips as his hand came down to run through your hair, "It isn't a bad thing. It just made things a lot clearer. I know what I want and I'm not afraid to take it anymore. You look so pretty on your knees, those big, scared eyes. I'm going to have so much fun with you, agent."

Shaking your head, you tried to spit out a response, but nothing came for a few moments as he stared down at you. Eventually, you swallowed down a lump in your throat, "Why me? I wasn't even supposed to be there."

Steves hand in your hair tightened, the grin on his face fading into a smirk, "Exactly. Don't you know, Agent, that good little girls who don't follow the rules get punished?"

[irisrecs]

buzzfeed unsolved fanfiction recommendations

This is all Ryan/Shane— so don’t like, don’t read.

PSA: I am not in any way stating that Ryan and Shane from Buzzfeed Unsolved and Watcher are together, or that I want them to be together; this is for entertainment use only. I urge you to not contact them or @ them on twitter or instagram making comments about their relationship, as they are humans just like the rest of us. Some things are none of our business!

This is a masterlist of my favourite fanfictions in this fandom! Thanks to @gigaledom for cheering me on. Never thought I was going to do more RPF, but here I am.

Under 10k

and i’m puffing my chest, getting red in the face by pissedofsandwich- 6k, Teen

Summary: "Zack's going to be there?" Shane asks, masking his... whatever it is he's feeling in his chest, with nonchalance.

Ryan blinks. "Yes?"

Well, never mind dancing with the fucking sun. He’s Icarus, wings melted and falling face-first into the asphalt.

Or: Shane is definitely not at all jealous of how close Zack and Ryan are getting during the making of Sports Conspiracies. Except that he is.

My notes: They’re both so jealous of each other and so bad at communication. Thank goodness they have their friends to help them out! Really funny and entertaining!

lay your demons at the door by abovetheruins— 7k, Teen and Up

Summary: Ryan had been so careful. For months he had learned to train his face into a semblance of normalcy every time a spirit got too close or he was overwhelmed with some indiscernible emotion on location. He had learned to channel his fear into something more manageable, something entertaining enough for the cameras but not so severe that anyone would be able to tell he wasn’t just jumping at shadows or groaning floorboards anymore.

Shane wasn’t supposed to find out. He wasn't supposed to know.

My Notes: The Seer!Ryan AU that I wasn’t expecting to like so much. A lot of pining and caring! Shane with a lovely ending!

First Impressions by luxbuhree— 9k, Mature

Summary: The chance to work with and sit next to THE Shane Madej was one of the things Ryan was looking forward to, now that he's starting his first day in BuzzFeed. But while he was expecting a charming and friendly guy, he was instead met with someone who couldn't care any less.

Will the case of why Shane hates Ryan remain unsolved?

My notes: In which Shane is really bad at feelings and Ryan has the hots for a certain person who pins him against walls. Awesome ending.

a short history of almost something by cooliohoolio— 6k, No Warnings

Summary: "I think I'll wait another year."

Shane's in love with Ryan, and will get around to telling him. One of these days.

My notes: A lovely short high school! AU with mutual pining. They’re best friends ahhh

only happy accidents by barnes— 8k, Explicit

Summary: In hindsight, Shane is too old to have thought that friends with benefits was something that the two of them would be able to pull off. He’s had friends with benefits before that worked beautifully, but they were not with people whose jobs were tied up in his own, whose friendships were as closely interwoven into Shane’s everyday life as Ryan’s is. He’d thought these were the very things that could keep it from getting weird, because they were such good buddies, Ryan would be solidly cemented as his pal that nothing could shift him.

This was a miscalculation, on Shane’s part.

My Notes: I’m not usually a fan of friends with benefits to lovers, but this had so much mutual pining and fluff that I enjoyed it so much! A must-read.

Gurl, Imma Marry You (ryan is a mess) by orphan_account— 2k, General Audiences

Summary: Ryan is perpetually doing dumb things. Starting a ghost show? Dumb. Going to demon houses? Dumb. Talking to ghosts? Dumb.

But those are all new dumb things. Ryan's known he wants to marry Shane forever. That is an incredibly old dumb thing.

My notes: Really cute and fluffy and I love it so much. It’s a kind of read-to-make-yourself-feel-better kind of fic!

Por Favor, Sweetheart by carrieonfighting— 8k, Teen and Up

Summary: Two dorks raise a baby and don't even realise they're doing it together until it's too late

Alternatively, Ryan Bergara is Trying His Best Thanks

My notes: Normally not a raising-a-child-fic person, but holy smokes this was written so well and the fluff! the domesticity i-

Pushing All Your Buttons by beethechange— 9k, Explicit

Summary: Ryan and Shane get stuck in an elevator at Buzzfeed HQ. There is tension. They relieve the tension. That’s it, that’s the fic.

My notes: I was literally able to see the tension floating off my laptop in front of my face, it was so palpable.

Under 20k

like you want to be loved by poetdameron— 16k, Teen and Up

Summary: "Settle down with me", Shane says without thinking and as Ryan looks at him with wide open eyes, all he can think of it's how many of Ryan's secrets he knows, how Ryan likes his coffee, and the fact that he has loved him since the moment Ryan first looked up at him and smiled.

My notes: The PINING and CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT and ANGST my god. Really well written and lovely happy ending.

ships that pass in the night by beethechange— 20k, Explicit

Summary: The more Ryan thinks about it, the more he thinks he just needs to return the favor, that’s all. And then it’ll be done, like it was meant to be done weeks ago, and they can both move on for real.

It’s not that he wants to. It’s that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it until he evens the score. He has to restore balance to the Force or order to the universe, or—or whatever. It’s a karma thing.

“I think you have to let me jerk you off,” Ryan tells Shane one night. They’re working late, alone in the Watcher office, one of many such late nights these days.

“Wh—here?” Shane asks. He looks around, baffled, like he’ll have been magically transported somewhere else. “Have to?” And then: “Let you?”

My notes: haha what if I dare you to jerk me off dude haha don’t be a chicken

Do you not know how love works? by leylines— 12k, No Rating

Summary: “Fuck you, man,” Ryan growled, rubbing his tailbone where he landed on when he fell down just moments ago.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what Devon already thinks we’re doing,” Shane said cheerfully, not at all sounding bothered by the thought.

“Oh shut up, dude.”

My notes: One of my favourite things in this cold, dark universe is when two characters are dating but they don’t know it but everyone else does. This is so hilarious and warms my dead heart

Full-Court Press by beethechange— 12k, Explicit

Summary: To be clear, these are not tactics Ryan would recommend. Being an athleisure-obsessed pervert, and lying, and clothes-sabotage: these are not things he’s proud of.

But they have undeniably worked.

Shane’s standing next to him in the hotel lobby while Devon checks them all out of their rooms, and he's wearing a sleeveless purple Lakers jersey and the world’s softest, clingiest sweatpants. It’s so exactly as Ryan pictured it, so precisely in line with his fantasies, that he has to pinch himself.

My notes: Really hot and funny and p i n i n g

may your days be merry and bright by bodhirookes— 19k, General Audiences

Summary: “Your turn, Ry Ry.”

Ryan looks down to find only one piece of paper remaining. “Wow, so much selection to choose from.”

“No time for your negativity, Scrooge. Your Secret Santa deserves a better attitude.”

Ryan sticks his tongue out, but takes the slip of paper. He’s loudly yelling Give me Jen, please please please give me Jen as he unfolds it, but he’s too busy begging for her to be truly prepared for what he ends up getting:

A simple but damning SHANE in Andrew’s scribbly handwriting.

Or, Ryan gets Shane for Secret Santa and has a subsequent breakdown about what to get him

Notes: This is so sweet and cute and I would die for both of them. A lovely classic christmas fic!

want you in my room by beethechange— 13k, Explicit

Summary: As they watch, Tall Guy takes his beanie off, revealing a mess of thick, shiny brown hair. He runs his hand through it to shake out the hat hair and Ryan feels like he’s stuck in an Herbal Essences commercial, except he’s the one making inappropriate lustful noises.

Ryan adjusts his snapback, determined. He is, after all, wearing his very finest basketball shorts, without even a single hole at the hem, and the knowledge puts an extra spring in his step.

“I’m gonna climb that dude like a tree,” he tells Curly.

My notes: Just really dumb, cute pining in a wonderful frat boy/nerd college AU!

Long boys

Muscles Better and Nerves More by beethechange— 26k, Explicit

Summary: “I’m serious,” Ryan says. “Don’t go fucking up my body. I want that shit back in the same condition I left it.”

“The same condition—Ryan. I’m not spending hours in a gym every day so you don’t lose muscle mass.”

“I want you to treat my body with the respect you would a national park. Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but memories.”

***

A certain meddling Voodoo Queen of New Orleans thinks Ryan and Shane need some new perspective on life. After an inadvisable ritual deposits Ryan in Shane’s body, and Shane in Ryan’s, the ghoulboys pursue some soul-searching and self-discovery to put things right. Sometimes in a sexy way.

My notes: This is so sexy and in character! A freaky friday kinda scenario where they only switch back when they pull their figurative heads out of their asses. So wonderful.

Dreams to be daring for by allonsy_gabriel— 24k, General Audiences

Summary: On May 11, 2018, Eleanora Rose Austin was born in Chicago, Illinois.

On May 20, 2018, Shane Alexander Madej agreed to act as the godfather to his best friend from college's daughter.

On October 26, 2018, Olivia and Michael Austin were victims of a mugging gone sideways.

On October 29, 2018, Shane Madej found himself in the possession of one real, actual, human child.

My notes: Accidental Baby Acquisition is now my favourite trope because of this fic. The fact that they’re already acting like a couple with the baby before they actually become one is sooo beautiful,,, give it a read im begging you

Fifty Shades of Gold by beethechange— 21k, Explicit

Summary: Shane tires of doing the same bits over and over. He tires of telling the same stories until they all, him and Ryan and the fans, have every beat memorized. Whenever Ryan pulls out his Ricky Goldsworth impression, ah yes, that old chestnut, Shane plays along only begrudgingly. He’s bored.

That’s his official position: he’s over Ricky Goldsworth.

Shane’s unofficial position, regrettably, is that he’d rather be under Ricky Goldsworth.

My notes: Shane’s got the hots for Ricky Goldsworth and that’s the TEA. Lots of sexual tension and cute and unsure! Ryan!

Precious metals by StrikerEureka— 73k, Mature

Summary: Ryan and Shane have been moving around something that is coming to a head between them. After a car accident, on the way to an investigation, Ryan slowly starts to become suspicious that Shane might not be what he seems. He realizes, though, that he just might not care.

Shane sits forward suddenly. “Hey, pull over up here.”

Ryan follows the instruction without questioning it, which probably says something about either his willingness to listen to Shane or his sanity. Maybe both; they go hand in hand. He puts on his blinker, even though they haven’t seen another car in a couple of minutes, and pulls off onto the shoulder.

“Are you gonna puke or something?” he asks, putting the car into park, as Shane takes off his seatbelt with one hand and tugs off his Ray Bans with the other.

“You better hope not,” he murmurs as he leans over the center console and kisses Ryan solidly on the mouth.

My notes: My favourite Demon!Shane AU ever! Really sweet and loads of tension and pining... must-read.

darling it’s a faded notion by varnes— 28k, Explicit

Summary: The sun is too bright and Ryan’s whole body is alight with something that is eating him all the way up from the inside out, but he keeps his eyes open and he makes himself look, and he tells himself that once he finds Shane, he’ll think about it. Once he finds Shane, they’ll make a plan. Once he finds Shane, and only then, he’ll let himself have the thought he’s been swallowing down like bile since he came to: that they didn’t fall.

They were pushed.

OR: Ryan and Shane get cursed by a ghost, and now they can't be not-touching. It's ... not great.

My notes: They get cursed and have to be touching all the time!! and they’re pining so hard y’all like what more could one want

Bed-warm Hands and the Ghost of Elvis by MiraclesofPaul— 21k, Teen and Up

Summary: They get used to sharing a bed while filming the show. Ryan's just trying not to let his feelings get in the way.

So Ryan tells himself he’s going to ride out whatever it is they’ve fallen into, but he’ll bow out gracefully when the time comes. He can just enjoy the now.

My notes: They share a bed!!! And their hearts!! so much lack of communication, it’s wonderful

Hope that someone will enjoy these fics that I did so very much! If you want more buzzfeed unsolved fics let me know because i’ve read sooo much fanfiction...

—Iris

[amydancepants-peralta]

Hi there @storyinmyeyes!  I’m sorry this is so late, but here is my response to your prompt - #15:  ‘He should have said something.  Because now she’s gone to work for the Special Victims Unit, and he’s pretty sure she took part of his soul with her.’

Hope you enjoy!  ♥️

it’s not warm when she’s away

“Do whatever you want.  You know … it’s your life.”

Jake has played over those nine words so many times, they had long since lost their meaning.  The dismissive tone stings like it would have the first time Amy heard them, the casual shrug of his shoulders betraying what he truly felt as she gives him a chance - one last chance to say how he really feels.  One last chance to ask her to stay, before she walked away forever.  

He had been so damn focused on the case - so sure that they were going to find some kind of key evidence that would give them that slam dunk Peralta Guarantee he’d made, that he never stopped to consider that that afternoon could be the very last time they worked together.  

But they never found the suspect’s jacket, and the case remained unsolved.  And by the end of the day, Amy Santiago had been accepted into the Special Victims Unit.  

It had been three months since she’d left, her meticulously organised desk quickly turning into a haphazard dumping ground of rejected case files as the precinct waits for a new transfer to arrive.  There had been a rotation of partners for Jake, skipping from Boyle to Diaz, the occasional ring-in from the Nine Eight and one disastrous fortnight with Hitchcock and Scully.  He felt empty, as though a part of him was missing, and as the days wore on he realised that was precisely the problem.  This woman, with her perfectly arranged desk and her dark hair that somehow always managed to catch the light, had become a part of his world so much that without her, everything else seemed grey and lifeless.

He finds himself wearing an extra shirt under his plaid these days, his complaints about the coldness of the office forever falling on deaf ears.  Officer Evans even laughs at him one afternoon, when he clocks the detective rubbing his hands together to stay warm, joking that perhaps Santiago had left her perpetual coldness behind for Jake to inherit.  He had shrugged Evans off, never understanding why the others insisted on calling her cold.  Yes, she enjoyed an extra blanket or two at outdoor gatherings, but if you asked him, Amy Santiago was the opposite of cold.  She was literal sunshine - warm eyes and sparkling laughter wrapped up in a beautiful soul - and he missed her, every damn day.  

*

It’s 11am on a mundane Wednesday when he hears an officer mention that the SVU were on their way to the precinct.  His ears perk up at the words and he tugs at the collar of his jacket nervously, the notion of being in the same room as her suddenly too much to bear.  He tells himself that he needs to relax - it might not even be her that visits, after all - but his racing heart just will not calm down, and he paces the floor of the bullpen seven times over before Rosa finally tells him to sit the hell down.

The numbers on the arrest report occupying his computer screen are beginning to blur when he hears her arrive, the gentle but deliberate cadence of her step unmistakable as she exits the elevator.  There had been an invisible string, all this time, that had tied his heart to hers, and for the first time in three months he felt it tighten - felt her presence before he dared to turn, felt the racing thump fall into a comfortable rhythm because finally, she was home.

Amy’s smiling at him when he turns around, his flimsy attempt at a casual glance falling apart the instant his eyes catch hers.  His face nearly splits in half with the size of his grin, already getting up out of his chair and halfway across the floor before he even realises he’s moving.  She was a magnetic force for him, the pull of their hearts dragging him closer without any protest, and all he can think is at last.

There are a million words that he wants to say, all of them fighting for the starring role, when Boyle pops up between them, a bag of Fermented Something in one hand and the other reaching out for a hug.  She keeps her face even, a skill long since mastered from her days at the Nine Nine, and Jake stifles his laughter as he takes in her subtle step backwards.  

She’s whisked away by Boyle and Diaz before they even have a chance to talk, and Jake is quickly reminded that she is here on official duty only, and as a team member of Major Crimes division will probably leave just as quickly as she arrived; once she’s acquired the case files from her former colleagues.  To nobody’s surprise, she stays all afternoon, locked up in the briefing room as the trio work together to bring down bad guy.  He sees glimpses of her when the door occasionally opens for a coffee or bathroom break, but she never moves from her position at the desk. 

He stays an hour or two past his finish time, unwilling to give up the chance to talk to her one last time, until Terry flexes his ample muscles towards the elevator and orders Jake’s evacuation.  The door to the briefing room is still closed as his feet shuffle past, pausing with a last minute wish for courage before continuing on, accepting their fate.   

It’s well past 9pm when she finds him at Shaw’s, slumped into a booth in the far corner as he sips on his whiskey and stares blankly at unfunny videos on his phone.  He had felt a tug on his heart, but foolishly had chalked it up to the liquor settling into his veins, and his phone drops with a clatter to the sticky table when suddenly she is sitting across from him.  

She barely lets out a sorry if I’m interrupting before Gina is shuffling into the booth next to him, casting her purse into the gap between Jake and the wall as she makes room for Rosa, Charles sliding in to sit next to Amy, and suddenly Jake’s glass isn’t the only one on the table.  

It feels like old times, laughter filling the once silent booth as stories of old and new are retold.  Memories are given elaborate twists as the empty bottles build up, and in all honesty he’s trying really hard not to stare, but he can’t believe he never noticed how beautiful Amy was until it was far too late.  

He knows that he screwed up when he didn’t encourage her to stay at the Nine Nine.  He knew it thirty-five seconds after she returned from her interview, handing in her notice of transfer to Holt with a sad smile, and he knows it now as the five of them clink their glasses together.  There’s a pull between them, the same invisible string stretched tight across the table, and Jake wishes on all the glow-in-the-dark stars of his childhood bedroom’s ceiling that there was some way that he could make Amy stay this time.

They’re both a little tipsy when they finally leave the bar, or rather get pushed out as Hank flips over the sign in the window from Open to Closed while they stumble onto the footpath.  The rest of their squad - or rather, Jake’s squad now - had long since given up on them, retiring to their homes when they realised that tonight was for Jake and Amy, and Jake and Amy only.  

Her laughter bounces off of the parked cars as she races towards the faded chalk outline of a game of hopscotch, ponytail jerking upwards as she hops along the squares, turning back to Jake with an accomplished smile when she reaches the top.  She’s not ready to go home yet, she announces, and it’s the best thing Jake has heard all day, because there is not a chance he’s ready for this to be over again.

It isn’t long before his jacket is wrapped around Amy’s shoulders, ponytail abandoned to keep her neck warm, the two of them taking turns to point out buildings or alleyways that have been involved in cases of theirs as they walked around the city.  They reminisce over their biggest solves - the ones that had kept them up until the early hours - and Jake lays out the details of a file that had landed on his desk earlier that day.  She asks all the questions he had known she would ask, and he shoots back with answer after answer until finally she nudges him with her elbow, raising one eyebrow when he looks back at her and telling him that he already knew the solve to this case, that he should just trust his gut, because as much as she hated to admit it, he was rarely wrong.

He shrugs, mumbling that he doesn’t always get it right, and studies the ground for the rest of the block. 

They pass an old park, long since abandoned, and Amy climbs the staggered brick wall that had once made up the fence line, smiling in triumph as she stands a few feet taller than him.  She seems relaxed, and he tells her as such, laughing as she holds out both arms for balance in stepping along the thin line, looking like a child playing Airplane while turning back towards him.  Her arms drop and she hesitates, a silence falling over them for a minute before she tucks her hair behind both ears and tells him that this is the first time she’s felt relaxed in months.  

Her feet bump into the brick as they swing back and forth, sitting down and waiting until Jake has settled in beside her before telling him all about her time in Major Crimes.  How it was everything and nothing like she’d expected.  That she’d made some excellent contacts, and had played an integral role in the conviction of some particularly unsavoury perps.  Special Victims Unit was heavy, she admitted with a sigh - they did things differently, and not always to the letter, and it was a struggle to find a way to fall into line.  And finally, with a defeated shrug, she tells him that she misses the Nine Nine every single day.  

Jake’s heart is somewhere up the top of his throat, trying desperately to sound casual when he tells her that the detective filling her role was having issues with their transfer, that the legality of some sort of form or whatnot kept delaying their arrival.  Her desk, he mentions with a nudge of his shoulder against his, is still empty, and Amy looks up, sheepishly admitting that she hadn’t left the briefing room all day for fear of seeing her desk with somebody else’s name on it.  

Eventually he stands, reaching his hand out for assistance as she follows suit, and when their palms press together he links their fingers with a gentle squeeze.  Forged as one, their hands fall to the space between them as their footsteps echo across the empty sidewalks that lead to Amy’s apartment.

He wants to tell her that he’s missed her more than words can say.  Keeps racking his brain, trying to think of the right way to let her know that the date that resulted from him winning the bet had fallen into the Good Date list for a million reasons, and that none of them had anything to do with getting the bad guy.  

She offers him his jacket back when they reach her front door, and he takes it from her hand but doesn’t put it on.  For the first time in a long time, he was immune to the cold.  

(Plus, there was a good chance that his jacket smelled like her now, and he wasn’t quite ready to lose that.)

The air crackles between them as she pulls him in for a hug, hand lingering at the back of his neck for a beat before pulling away completely, string tugging in his chest again, waving goodnight one last time before walking through her door.  It’s only five minutes into the walk back to his apartment before his phone rings, and Amy is on the other end, calling with a sudden epiphany of an anecdote she’d forgotten to tell him and knows he will love.  

They talk until sunrise, Jake moving from kitchen counter to couch to bed within his studio apartment, neither of them quite ready to acknowledge the time until their throats are raspy from a lack of sleep.  It had only been three months, but to them, it had felt like a lifetime, and there was so much to say.

Finally, she hangs up, securing the confirmation of lunch plans later that very day, and Jake grips the phone in his hand for a moment, staring at the blank screen and remembering the feeling of her hand in his as they walked the streets of Brooklyn.  His apartment is bright with light from unclosed blinds when he eventually looks up, because he hadn’t been home since nearly the same time yesterday, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, Jake felt the warm of the sunlight on his face.  He angles his face higher, absorbing the rays as they wash over his home, smiling at the sense of peace that falls over him as the exhaustion finally takes over, back hitting the mattress without a second to waste.

He sets an alarm on his phone, then places it out of reach for him to avoid it being switched off in a future sleepy haze, and with a contented smile he closes his eyes.  Today, after all, was a new day - a day which promised so many great possibilities, and there was no way that he was going to let happiness slip through his fingers again.  

[ttime42]

2018 Fic Roundup

This is a list of fics (in no particular order) I read last year. Many of these I finished. Some of them I started and didn't finish because it turned out they weren't for me. Others are rereads. Thanks to all the wonderful authors who fill fandom with life.

Watson's Folly by Diana Williams

John Watson, the new Earl of Saughton, is madly in love with the beautiful Mary Morstan. But he has returned from the Peninsular War to find his family on the brink of ruin and his ancestral home mortgaged to the hilt. He has little choice when he is introduced to Mycroft Holmes, a civil servant of apparently unlimited wealth and no social ambitions for himself - but with his eyes firmly fixed on a suitable match for his only brother, the unorthodox and irascible Omega Sherlock Holmes. Can John forget the woman he loved and find happiness with a man so very different from his lost love?

To the Sticking Place by blueink3

Renowned Shakespearean actor Sherlock Holmes has finally burned all of his bridges in the theatre industry save for his constant director, Greg Lestrade. John Watson has made a name for himself in the musical theatre circuit, but age and injury are working against him. Can they reinvent themselves for an all-male Macbeth without killing one another? 

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror

Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel

They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril.

They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear.

Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”  

Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods.

Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Sock Index by distantstarlight

John and Sherlock live at 221 B Baker Street. Everything is back to normal with the long-time friends....or is it? 

The Shop Boy by EventHorizon

Sometimes, taking care of Sherlock had its benefits...

The School Boy by EventHorizon

As Mycroft and Lestrade pursue their own relationship, Sherlock learns the meaning of friendship with the new boy in his school, John Watson.

The Science of Musicality by circ_bamboo

Classical musician AU: Sherlock is a professional solo violinist, and John is his new accompanist collaborator. They've got a recital in three months, and someone doesn't want them to do it.

The Riven Crown by The_Kingmaker

‘We may have won the battle, but I fear the war with winter is just beginning.’

The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place.

Then there is the matter of the gold...

Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (locked to Ao3)

John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don't get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

The Guarded Secret by mycapeisplaid

After his war injury, John feels broken, small, and useless.  On a whim, he takes a position as a security guard of sorts at the gorgeous Holmes Hall in Yorkshire.  As it turns out, he is not as broken, small, or useless as he thinks.  A story of beauty and blossom, murder and mystery, loss and love. 

The Clash of Storm and Sea by QuinnAnderson

Music School AU. The first time John heard Sherlock play, he knew he was done for. Johnlock.

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard

When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men.

Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Bluest of Blue by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John

John Watson's 10th season as a Denali National Park Ranger was shaping up to look like all the years before.

Until a special team from Europe was flown into the Park for a summer-long wolf-tracking research project, and the head of that research team was wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John

All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair.

That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada and ShinySherlock (locked to Ao3)

Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose--is it a pirate's life for him?

The Bells of King’s College by SilentAuror

It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Summit Fever by J_Baillier

After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

Share the Stars with You by EventHorizon

Set in Victorian times, we find Mycroft as a sedentary man of wealth and power and Greg as an explorer, a true man of action.  Given their opposite natures, could it be these two might actually achieve the one thing neither has ever thought possible - finding someone to love?

School for Scandal by rubberbird

Sherlock lusts from afar. John tries to fool himself.

Saving Sherlock Holmes by earlgreytea68

Sherlock Holmes, schoolboy. Yeah, that basically sums it up.

Performance in a Leading Role by Mad_Lori

Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

Paradigm Shift by distantstarlight

Sherlock Holmes is the world's only consulting detective. He's also a virgin, and has staunchly remained that way. One night he's on a case like normal but he sees someone who after a single glance turns everything Sherlock thought he knew about himself completely around. Enter one John Watson, doctor, soldier....stripper?

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror

As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

In Search of a Word: A Symphony of First Times by queenfanfiction

There is a new concertmaster at the London Symphony, and John Watson is starting to fall a little bit in love with both the music and the man making it.

How Long? by TheBritishBourbon

Sherlock never got to jump off the roof of St. Barts, he never got the chance. Sherlock was abducted and held for 5 years, but now he has escaped. What awaits him as he returns to reality?

Every Star in the Sky Knows Your Name by Jaune_Chat

Mal's latest pair of passengers slowly reveals they have more of a connection to the crew than anyone would have thought, when Simon discovers that Sherlock and his sister had been in the same government program over a decade and a half apart. Sherlock's friend John, his rescuer and keeper, tells the crew the story of living a life on the run, something that is both less and more familiar than anyone expects.

Enigma by khorazir

It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy.

Electric Pink Hand Grenade by BeautifulFiction

"If Sherlock's brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse." Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

Butterbeer by green_violin_bow

One of very few students left at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday, final-year Slytherin student Mycroft Holmes finds himself thrown together with Gryffindor Quidditch team captain Greg Lestrade. An unlikely friendship, but one that blossoms in the huge, mostly-empty castle.

Boyfriend Material by PoppyAlexander

Boston Brawlers' team captain John Watson longs for two things: a championship before he retires, and a boyfriend. Assigned to room with goaltender Sherlock Holmes--known around the league as both a genius and a "weird dude"--on Brawlers' roadtrips, John discovers the things they have in common that lead to an easy friendship and a convenient arrangement.

Slow-burn, adversaries-to-friends-to-lovers, romantic comedy.

Alternate Universe - Sports/Ice Hockey

Babylon by BeautifulFiction_FMA

Two years after retrieving his brother's body from the Gate of Truth Edward Elric is still paying the price. Will his debt ever be repaid, or will it finally cost him everything? (Originally published 2007 on fanfiction.net and livejournal)

An improbable love by slowroad

Sherlock is a famous violinist who is going through a bit of a slump. He's lonely and miserable. It has been three years since John was invalided home from Afghanistan. He's slowly getting his life together, but he's lonelier than he's ever been. And then, the the two of them meet… 

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore

Post Series 3. Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world ...and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee

Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab.

Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters?

{SPOILER: Of course not. That would be boring.}

Guarantee there will be drama. And explosions. And Will is gonna do something cocky and stupid. Really good chance for some zero-gravity boinking (bet ya didn't even know you needed that in your life).

Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off.

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird

Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

[elijahwoodnot]

silence is subjective

Summary: As it turns out, Amanda isn’t the only Brotzman sibling that's capable of doling out somewhat long and painfully drawn-out bouts of the silent treatment. 

Dirk learns this particular bit of trivia the hard way.

Pairing: Dirk Gently/Todd Brotzman 

The fight had been over a small thing, trivial really. Something so small and inconsequential that Todd’s having kicked up a fuss over it at all might have bordered on being a laughable concept, were it not exactly what had happened. 

“What do you mean ‘demoted’?” Todd had cried, his face falling so spectacularly that Dirk almost grinned at the sight of it. 

“You’re arguing!” he had countered instead, turning from the case files scattered across his lap (and the cushions of Todd’s sofa) to give Todd a wry look. 

“I always argue.” Todd had pointed out with a helpless shrug. 

“Yes,” Dirk had conceded, rolling his eyes a bit before giving him a pointed look. “But that was more an Assistant-Todd thing to do. You’ve grown! And that’s why you were promoted! ‘Were’ being the key-word, here, all things considered.” 

“I don’t believe this.” and Dirk would concede that he really should have begun to take the hint of the situation falling rapidly out of control from Todd’s slowly darkening expression and tone right about here. “I just disagreed on the motive for the murder.”

“Well I disagree with your disagreement!” Dirk had replied airily, turning back to the case file with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And, as the head of the agency, and the only one with his name on the plaque, my word has the power of ‘end-all’ here so!”

“I’m your partner.” Todd had argued and, though Dirk couldn’t see him, he was certain that he was gesturing in exasperation. “My disagreements should at least be considered, don’t you think?” 

“Not anymore.” Dirk had dismissed, grinning brightly and turning back to face Todd again (and forcing himself to ignore the drop his stomach gave almost as soon as he’d spoken the words, a tell-tale sign from the Universe that something was most likely about to go sideways). “At least, not within the agency. Not with that attitude!” 

The words were spoken brightly, but the effect they had was anything but. Todd had seemed to falter briefly, before he squared his shoulders, his incredulous expression shuttering into something cold and closed-off. Something Dirk had rarely seen before, and would not deny the small, fearful drop his heart had given at the sight of. 

“Todd?” he’d inquired, the smile dropping off his own face when the grim line his companion’s mouth had hardened into didn’t even twitch in response. “Come on, now. There’s an entire unsolved case on our hands!”

Todd’s eyes had narrowed, and he’d looked almost disgusted for a flickering moment. But he did not answer, nor did he move as if making to approach.

Dirk had swallowed before forcing himself to roll his eyes lightheartedly. “Come on, Todd.” he’d teased. “I’ll listen to your forwarded theory, even if I don’t technically agree with it.” here he’d brandished the case file. “I need your help!”

When the only response he had received had been Todd continuing to eye him skeptically, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly, Dirk had huffed in frustration. “You’re being ridiculous Todd.” 

It was this that seemed to have really done it. After a long moment of silence (which was apparently all Todd was capable of offering, now), the words hanging heavily on the air between them, Todd’s eyes had widened before his face had screwed up. With little more than a baleful glare tossed over his shoulder, he’d turned and began striding toward the door. 

“Todd!” Dirk had called in alarm, scrambling up from the sofa to....do something, and only managing to take a single step forward before the door was slammed unapologetically behind Todd’s hastily retreating form, and Dirk therefore left with nothing but the stubborn silence ringing out within the empty apartment.

“Well....damn.”

That had been nearly 24 hours ago, and Dirk was really beginning to feel his patience with the entire situation beginning to wear thin. 

Which was hardly his fault. Were Todd to possibly discuss with him exactly what had upset him in the first place, maybe then they could actually get somewhere with this entire fiasco, and take a step closer to putting the entire thing behind them. This, however, would require Todd actually being around to do so. As it was, Dirk hadn’t seen him since the actual....disagreement itself. And he rather doubted that Todd would be willing to talk the entire thing over, when they did see each other again.

“Todd’s not coming in today.” Were the first words out of Farah’s mouth when Dirk stepped into the office the morning after the events (the night before having found Dirk having spent a long and miserably cold night alone in his and Todd’s shared bed), short and clipped and to the point, her eyes only rising briefly from her laptop to address Dirk before falling again. 

“He’s staying in your apartment.” Dirk guessed, quite certain of his own hunch and not bothering to add a note of question to the words, therefore muddying the already murky situation with false pretenses. 

Farah heaved a small sigh, but kept her gaze stubbornly trained on the screen of her laptop. “I don’t want to get involved.” she finally replied, at last. 

“Well, you’re already involved, clearly.” Dirk had pointed out, waving his hands a little and trying not to feel disappointed when he scanned his gaze around the rest of the office, finding it empty of any other occupants and confirming Farah’s words silently to himself with a defeated swallow. 

“I--Well--” Farah huffed a little before glancing pleadingly up at him. “Any more than I already am, alright? I’m not--Well. I’m not qualified for that.” 

“You’re qualified for anything.” Dirk dismissed easily, moving further into the room and letting his bag fall to the floor before Farah’s desk (she hated that, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually hang it on one of the designated hooks on the wall behind the door) with a small sigh. “Todd can’t skip work.” he finally declared, getting back to the issue at hand. “He’s out of sick days.” 

“You don’t give us sick days.” Farah pointed out with a raised brow. “Legally I’m not even sure you can. And, on that same point, if anyone’s actually earned their fair share of sick days, it’s probably Todd.” 

Dirk frowned a little, but allowed her the point. It was correct, after all. His initial statement had been a fib. He wasn’t sure he could remember the last time Todd had stayed home from the agency office, the thought alone making the emptiness of the room that much more palpable. “Did he say why?” Dirk finally inquired, a little helplessly and quite unsure of what else he was supposed to say. 

Farah shot him another pointed look for his trouble, but eventually responded. “He didn’t say much of anything, Dirk.” she exhaled slightly. “I assume you got even less.” 

Dirk quirked a brow, his head cocking along with it as he studied Farah in growing confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Farah blinked, her eyes widening a little before she took on a slightly considering expression. “I--You--He’s--You know how he is. How--how he gets, anyway” she finally sputtered, after a long moment, looking suddenly as if the conversation had taken a turn she hadn’t been expecting. 

(Something else Dirk knew that she was not fond of.)

“How does he get?” Dirk challenged at once. 

“He--” Farah made an incredulous face (an expression Dirk was really tiring of being faced with, if he were being totally honest). “I’m not the one who’s--I’m not his boyfriend, Dirk.” she finally replied, a little apologetically. “I’m not the one you should be talking to about this. About any of this.” she tacked on hastily, when Dirk opened his mouth to argue. 

It was a very pointed end to the conversation, Dirk had known Farah long enough to tell this much. With a defeated pout he scooped his bag from the ground, and made his way toward the sofa tucked into the corner, willing himself to begin considering the case at hand. 

Needless to say, he wasn’t very successful, opting to spend long moments with his gaze focused distantly on the far wall of the office, his hands tangled into a knot in his lap, anywhere but the case file he’d spread out before himself.

The rest of the day had followed more or less in the same fashion and, by the time Dirk had waved a weary goodbye to Farah, shooting her a small ghost of a smile as he’d departed, he was quite ready for the day to be over entirely, prepared to go back home to an empty apartment and spend the rest of the evening in solitude as he was. 

Which was why he found it somewhat surprising when he entered his and Todd’s shared apartment despondently, only to find Todd himself standing in the corner of the kitchen, eyes wide as they watched Dirk’s entrance, his hands clutched around a can of soup he was drawing from the open cabinet beside him. 

“Todd!” Dirk cried, striding forward and brightening immediately, only to falter when Todd seemed to bristle slightly, eyeing Dirk narrowly before hastily turning back to the task at hand. “Todd,” Dirk repeated with a huff, crossing his arms and barely resisting the urge to stamp his foot impatiently. “We’re past this, surely.” 

They were not, however, past anything, if Todd’s continued, stubborn silence was anything to go by. Or the way he slammed the can of soup down onto the countertop with particularly brutal force, the sound echoing joltingly through the room. 

Dirk sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly at the cool response. “Todd,” he began again, determined not to leave the conversation hanging a second time. “Listen. About before--Last night, I mean...” he trailed off, watching on bated breath for any sign of change in Todd’s stance. When it seemed none was forthcoming besides the slight tensing of his shoulders, Dirk continued. “We really need to talk about things. You can’t just!” he flailed a bit, gesturing wildly with his hands though Todd couldn’t see him. “Shut me out! That isn’t how this works!” 

There was no reply, and Dirk groaned slightly, willing himself not to simply stride forward and spin Todd around, forcing him to look at him and therefore forcibly initiating the conversation they needed to have. It was a ridiculous notion, Dirk conceded to himself. There was no way Todd would take at all kindly to being forced into anything. Unless...

“Todd Brotzman.” he began again, forcing his tone into something stronger and more commanding, praying that Todd wouldn’t catch the quaver behind the words. 

It didn’t seem that he did, Dirk mused, as almost immediately Todd shoulders tensed further, and he turned to shoot Dirk a bewildered expression over his shoulder. 

“We can’t go on like this forever.” Dirk reasoned softly, his heart skipping a little when Todd’s gaze flickered away, as though he were considering the words (which meant progress). “There is no way I’m going to spend another entire evening without you talking to me.” Dirk pleaded, glancing for a brief moment at the bed in the corner and frowning a little at the memory of the night before. “You need to talk to me or I’ll just--I’ll have to just--I can make you!”

Todd raised a brow, and seemed ready to open his mouth to reply, before he seemed to remember something, and his expression fell again. He shook his head slightly, almost apologetically, before beginning to turn back to the countertop.

“No!” Dirk cried, allowing himself to stride forward in frustration and, before he was fully aware of what he was doing, leapt back into Todd’s line of sight. 

With a grunt, Todd made to move past, his hands coming up to grapple at Dirk’s arms when the taller man stepped between him and the exit. “Nnh...Dirk!” he snapped, shooting Dirk a furiously affronted expression when his hands wrapped around Todd’s own arms. “Let me go.”

“Aha!” Dirk yelped in triumph, grinning slightly. “Not until you talk to me!” 

“I am you absolute asshole.” Todd snapped out between grit teeth, jerking his elbows roughly backward in an attempt to free them from Dirk’s grasp. In retaliation, Dirk yanked them back toward himself (finally allowing himself the small victory of stamping his foot in frustration), and the two wobbled dangerously. 

“I mean about what happened!” Dirk cried, still tugging slightly. “I’m not an idiot, Todd!” 

“Well you’re acting like one.” Todd insisted, making a last effort to push his way out of the kitchen with a truly surprising amount of strength when--

The two toppled over with the force of the shove, Dirk falling onto his ass with a small ooph! and Todd falling quite ungracefully into his lap, their legs tangled uncomfortably. 

Dirk willed himself not to blush too obviously (though he was certain he was failing spectacularly at that particular task), and instead cried, “Why won’t you talk to me?!”

“Get off me!” Todd demanded. 

“You’re on me.” Dirk pointed out, quite unhelpfully if Todd’s frustrated grunt was anything to go by, but surged quickly upward so that his arms were wrapped around Todd’s shoulders, effectively pinning him in place (though how much longer he could hold the position he really was not sure). “And not until we talk! Properly.” 

“Ah!” Todd cried, struggling and pressing at Dirk’s chest with his hands for another long, tense moment before--

Before he seemed to freeze, his breaths coming out in short, wheezing pants as he eyed Dirk’s hopeful expression with a bewildered one of his own. There was a beat, before Todd’s face seemed to crumble, and he along with it, his head falling to rest on Dirk’s shoulder, his forehead hot against the skin of his neck. 

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was Todd’s desperate, wet breaths. Then, “....M’sorry.” he whispered, the words low and tremulous. 

Dirk immediately tightened his hold around Todd’s shoulders, shifting so that they were sat more comfortably, his legs crossed and Todd still sat in his lap. “Todd,” he murmured soothingly. “You don’t--” he sighed slightly. “Me too. Did I--” Dirk paused, biting his lip and mulling the words over before continuing, slowly, “Did it hurt you that badly?” 

“I just--” Todd exhaled softly, the breath ghosting tantalizingly along Dirk’s neck, before he pulled away slightly to glance up and meet Dirk’s gaze head on, his eyes glassy and red. “What you said...about--about the title. Or--Or rank or whatever...” 

“The titles are all made up anyway, Todd!” Dirk replied gleefully. “You know this.” 

Todd huffed a bit. “Right, but...” he trailed off, his gaze dropping uncomfortably away.

“But it still stung.” Dirk finished for him, his heart twisting a bit when Todd nodded meekly, his gaze still trained somewhere behind Dirk’s head, rather than on Dirk himself. “Hey,” Dirk prodded to rectify this, smiling a little in victory when Todd’s startling blue gaze met his again. “You’re right. I’m sorry and, as my partner,” his smile widened a bit at Todd’s own small one. “I should really listen to what you have to say more often.”

“Hm,” Todd hummed consideringly, his brow furrowing in what Dirk knew was amusement. “That’s something I never thought I’d heard you say.”

“Well it took a lot to say it believe me.” Dirk replied immediately, grinning at the small, delighted chuckle the words earned him. 

Todd sobered much too soon for Dirk’s liking, however, the small dimples in his cheeks disappearing to make way for a frown. “I am sorry though, Dirk.” he murmured, wincing a little. “I--Sometimes it just--”

“No need to apologize, Todd.” Dirk dismissed easily, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his boyfriend’s cheek and grinning at how Todd’s eyes fell automatically closed at the contact. “I knew what I was getting into when I started dating a Brotzman, obviously.” 

Todd cocked his head slightly, a smile worming its way back onto his face. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Dirk began cheekily. “Amanda literally left us for four vampire men in an old van when she was angry with you.” he pointed out. “Therefore exhibiting one of the most dramatic displays of the silent treatment I have ever witnessed.” he pressed another sloppy kiss to Todd’s cheek. “Must be a family trait.” 

There was a beat, before Todd bust into delighted laughter, the corner of his eyes crinkling and his cheeks dimpling again with the force of it. Dirk grinned brightly at the sound, his arms tightening around Todd’s shoulders as the shook with mirth. 

“God, you’re right.” Todd admitted, when he’d sobered slightly, his smile falling into something smaller, much softer, and his gaze dropping unsubtly to rest on Dirk’s lips for a moment. “So...” he began slowly, bringing a hand up to fiddle at the fabric of Dirk’s collar. “Any breakthroughs on that case?” His eyes were bright and curious when they found Dirk’s again, his cheeks still flushed with laughter and a small smile still playing on his face. 

“Hm,” Dirk shrugged slightly before leaning forward so that their faces were mere inches apart, watching as Todd followed suit so that the distance between them was almost closed. “The case can wait, I think.” He leaned up to capture Todd’s lips beneath his own, then, smiling slightly into the kiss when Todd moaned happily. 

It was, quite possibly, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

[xbostonsfinestx-blog]

Jade

:Still on for tonight?: Jade and Layla had been trying to get together for what seemed like months, but was only in fact ten days. This may have been their longest separation in years, to which Jade placed the blame on the adult lives they both had been hurled in to. It wasn’t long before a response was displayed on the telephone screen in Jade’s hand, confirming their plan to meet up that evening and try to play catch up with one another. A slight smile crossed her lips as she disabled the backlight of her phone, slipping it into her coat pocket as she emerged from the office building. ‘The chill in the air’ was far colder than a chill in her opinion, the wind seeming to cut through her heavy coat, prompting a grumble to her lips. I was meant to live in Florida. She complained within the confines of her own mind, clearing the last of the steps in front of the FBI Headquarters: Boston Division. Just as she got to the last step, her name was called out somewhere behind her. Kerrigan! Kerrigan! You’re gonna want to see this! She paused and turned around, looking up to find before her an agent from the organized crime unit. She gave a nod of her head before going back up the stairs and following him into the building as he started to fill her in. We might be on to something. We have five other unsolved murder cases that have the same makings as the Savastano case. Jade entered the unit with the other agent just behind her, coming face to face with the images on the smart board. “We’re talking 1993 on these as well?” She asked, turning to the man beside her who nodded to her question. “We need those files.”

:Running late, but I’ll be there.: A promise that Jade was not yet sure she could uphold, but the intent was there. The agent before her hung up the phone, shaking his head as his facial features gave away that the answer on the other end of that phone was not going to assist them. Don’t shoot the messenger here. Two of the files are gone, misplaced, damaged, whatever excuse they are giving today when the files are bought out. The other three will be here in a few hours’ time. Jade leaned back in her chair, her head falling at the top of the chair, looking up to the ceiling in physical display of her frustration. For the last eight months, she had been working to connect the Savastano murder to that of the Vinici Crime Family head, Santino Vinici. Jade couldn’t be straight with those that she worked with concerning the fact that her mother was the Savastano case. She could not implicate her father by stating that she had an eye witness to the murder as she knew she would then lose her father as well. Since working in this unit, Jade had learned the world her mother and father were a part of, so much so she could have walked into it herself. I can bring the files by your place later tonight if you don’t want to wait until morning. The suggestion brought Jade to lift her head and stare at him, shaking her head no. “It’s fine. Just call me when they’re here and I’ll come up and grab them.” She rose from her chair, replacing the layers and heading back out of the unit again. Have a good evening, Kerrigan.

Though she should have been out of there a half hour before, she was out now, and there was no going back for the moment. She hadn’t seen Layla in a week and a half. She hadn’t seen Orion in a few days either. She hadn’t seen Cael in nearly twenty four hours. The only three people in the entire universe that she felt comfortable with, and she had been without for far too long, faking her way through a grown up world where she was younger than most in her profession. Her father’s hand at play there, assisting her along her way at every turn, without her ever knowing. A half hour later, she was parked outside of her apartment building, going up the stairs to her floor and making a quick change into something a little less professional than the pant suit she was wearing at the moment. An alert sounded on her phone, a reminder she had set for herself earlier that day. Call Orion. If anyone ever knew that she had to put these types of alerts on her phone, they’d surely think her insane. The fact was, since making the move to the FBI’s organized crime unit, her brain had been a sea of information that had to be pulled forth at a moment’s notice, thus pushing off her entire life within her mind. The alerts were necessary. Around the same time every day, she would make the call. She had her reasons, though she would never disclose them out loud.

It was March 5, 2009, a Thursday evening around 6:30, when she picked up the landline phone on the wall in the kitchen of the Kerrigan apartment. “Hey, it’s me.” She never had to say who ‘me’ was. Her voice gave her away every single time. “I need to ask you something, but seriously if you aren’t down with it, I’m totally fine and it’s not a big deal at all.” She twisted the phone cord around her finger, nervous beyond words as she heard him respond back to her, prompting her to ask her question. “So. Prom. I wasn’t going to go, but Allison says I’ll regret it if I don’t, so she’s kind of making me go?” Her voice seemed unsure as she continued on to explain how her mother figure, who was only ever referred to by Jade as Allison, was pushing her to go. “I guess what I’m saying is, would you go to prom with me and I’ll owe you, so big.” Just over a month later, on April 10, 2009, Orion and Jade did just that, as friends. Jade had been crushing on Orion at that point for a couple of years, but it was not her intention by asking him to prom. Truth was, she could not handle the idea of physical contact from anyone, at all, aside from Cael, Layla, and Orion. Outside of that, no, leaving the only person she could ask to go with her to be Orion. That night was the first night that Orion and Jade had spent any significant amount of time one on one with one another and what they found was that it was okay. It was something they wanted to do more often, and they did. It would take them three years before they would call it what surely Cael and Layla already knew it to be, and made their relationship official.

After disconnecting the line, she pressed and held her home button, speaking to Siri. “Siri, remind me April 2 to set something up for April 10.” Siri’s voice broke through the silent apartment, announcing Here’s your reminder for April 2 at 9 am. Would you like to confirm this now? Jade responded “Yes” to which Siri confirmed. She tossed the phone to her bed as she reached behind her to zip up the back of her dress. A half hour later, she was out the door, looking nothing like the agent she was by day, and a lot more like a woman ready to enjoy a few hours with her best friend who was more like a sister than anything else. :OMW!: She sent the text as she gave her car a moment to warm up before heading off to the bar where the two were meant to meet up just a few blocks drive from her apartment building. A short time later, she was walking into the bar, easily spotting her blonde friend, which prompted a smile to her face that was only ever evident when in the presence of Cael, Layla, or Orion. “I am terribly sorry for being late,” she stated as she approached the bar, taking her perch on the barstool beside Layla. “Work.” A one-worded explanation which had been the reason for most every apology she had to issue over the last six months or so. She never discussed the details of just what it was she was working on, but those closest to her knew her mission in life since her eighteenth birthday when she was told of her mother and the events that had led to her death. Since that day, she made every professional move to position herself in the exact place she was in this day in time. Her mission; to take down the man who had gunned down her mother and finally offer her aging father with peace and freedom once the organization was dismantled, all of which made possible by the fact there was no paper trail connection between herself and her past of Giada Savastano.

With a nod of her head, she made her standard order to the bartender behind the bartop before turning all of her attention once more to Layla. “When did it all get so complicated?” She asked the rhetorical question that she often did. There was still a large part of her that felt as if she were still a seventeen or eighteen year old who wanted to spend time with the friends she regarded as family, sleep until noon, stay out all night, and live her life; yet they were caught up in the cycle of professionalism and obligation that always left them fighting for time together. “I know. It’s always been complicated.” She stated in answering her own question as the beer was placed before her. “Thank you,” she stated, lifting the glass to near her lips. “I need simple.” She complained as she tilted her glass back, eyeing Layla, knowing the same statement could be true for her. As she lowered her glass, wrapping both hands to rest around the cold beverage, she leaned her head to the side, looking to her with a nod. “Alright. You first.” She prompted Layla to play catch up first, then she would take a turn at the same. Layla INTRODUCTION: DUALITY “The tendency of the human mind is to see the world with a ‘dualistic’ view that describes everything through comparisons: good and bad, pain and happiness, beauty and ugliness, rich and poor.”-Gvalwa Dokhampa
 A tiny and hushed moan passes through the fullness of Layla Monroe’s plump lipstick stained mouth as she groggily looks over the red ledger splayed out before her upon the antique mahogany partner’s desk. With the base of her palm she wipes the remnants of a troubled sleep from her droopy lids. “It’s too early for this,” she grumbles. Layla sinks into the high back leather chair cursing her boss and uncle for leaving the books in such a state over the past couple of weeks. Honestly, she has no logic for being aggravated with him; it’s not his fault. The accountant hired to run the books for the gambling house and escort service, Róisín Dubh (The Dark Rose), was caught skimming off the top. It was a big mistake on the man’s part--no one messes with the Irish mob’s money. 
 
Being the assistant to her Uncle Donal Murphy meant the task now fell on her shoulders to manage the books… at least until he finds a suitable replacement. For a moment she just stares at it slightly overwhelmed by the task at hand. Her real frustrations stemming from domestic issues and the strain of her dual lifestyles. Her lover Declan stumbled in not too long after she herself had smelling of whiskey and another woman’s perfume. A fight ensued and unable to face the tears glazing her cyan hues he stormed out. Where he is she knows not... Unpredictable and marching to the beat of his own drum; Declan could easily be in yet another woman’s bed, doing something shady for the boss man, or drinking himself into a stupor over his guilt. Usually she would be consumed with concern, but Layla had more important things to think about other than what trouble he is in or where he is sticking his dick as of late. He always came home anyway... she might question his fidelity, but his love never.  

Aside from that she has found herself in quite the predicament concerning her work, familial obligations and personal relationships. Since coming back from France at 19, she’s been balancing two different lifestyles; Kennedy and student by day, Murphy and criminal entrepreneur by night. "We all live a life of duality. No matter what you try to tell yourself. The trick is... learning to adjust to the blinding contrast." A hint of wisdom often hidden behind feigned confusion resonates. "I personally adore the contra..." The words of one Ella Flynn, escort and ‘agent provocateur’, echo within Layla Monroe’s head repeatedly. Little did the redheaded minx know her one simple statement would stick with Layla for nearly four years later. The devil is in the duality most certainly for one Layla Monroe Kennedy. 
 
A dull gray overcast light is pushing past the sky light in the office--soon it will be dark. Slowly she turns her head to catch the time on the antique clock hanging across the room. “Great...” she groans as she props herself up on her elbows. She hadn’t even slept the night before due to Declan. She needs some time to decompress… relieve all the stress from her dual existence--have a drink and spend some time with one of the only people she knows how to relax around. A night out with her best friend Jade is just what the proverbial doctor has ordered. Come Hell or high water, nothing would get in the way of the much needed girl time. 
 
CURRENT: GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN
 
“Friends are a strange, volatile, contradictory, yet sticky phenomenon. They are made, crafted, shaped, molded, created by focused effort and intent. And yet, true friendship, once recognized, in its essence is effortless. Best friends are formed by time.”-Vera Nazarian The scene is set; a vast and darkened skyline paints the backdrop for a thumbnail moon and the subtle flicker of stars. Diminished by the sudden arrival of rain clouds and the glow of city lights. A cacophony of sound, any sound imaginable, echos within the city walls; it rides the coast, smog and light trails, whipping around corners and dodging cracked wood and crumbling brick. Just a compilation of phonetic chorus and apparatus roar--a sleepless, overpopulated city trying to survive the horde. The shadows twist and turn, grow ominously within alleyways and unlikely venues.  

Busy streets and familiar sidewalks suddenly become ambiguous and quite duplicitous. The dirt and grime, trash littering the streets no longer offensive to the eye, but detailed props compelling the audience. The only impediment to instinct is the electric surge rippling through the air, taunting the senses and altering thought. And no matter where one turns; there’s neon lights slicing through the dark, open doors, and vice ready to greet them. The constant movement and flow of energy, it’s just like a heart thumping and pumping blood to the organs. The city streets are the veins and vessels, the structures are bone and mind--marrow and thought. The lights and sounds are the neurons and brainwaves.  
The city is alive and The Randy Shandy in downtown Boston, MA is the stage. Layla Monroe sits quietly at the bar, lost in thought once again as she sips on a stout mixed drink called a Sidecar. She all but expects Jade to run a little late, no harm and no foul, the woman has a high demand job. Something Layla more than just simply understands--she can relate. It’s strange the curveballs life can throw at a person. If someone were to ask Layla a few years ago if she’d be where she is now and Jade as well as her brother where they are… She would’ve answered with something much different. Granted, it all had to be in the cards because now she can’t imagine Jade or Orion being anything but law enforcement and together for that matter.  
Some girls would've been put off or even pissed off if their best friend hooked up with their brother--not Layla. If anything, she takes comfort in knowing they have one another off and on the job. How could she not be happy with the two people she loves and trusts the most being together… taking care of each other… watching each others backs. When a person has so little family or dependable ties, it’s important to see things in a positive way. No matter what comes Layla’s way, being positive and hopeful are the only two outlooks that get her through the day. It’s not always easy though… especially in concerns to family, friends, and circumstance.  

For about a year now the relationship between Jade and Layla has changed. Mostly on Jade’s part due to Layla’s bad decisions. For nearly 10 years she’s kept Declan O’Reilly, a man 17 years her senior and her lover since the age 14, a secret from Jade. Friends just don’t keep secrets… at least that’s how it had always been between them until Declan. However, no matter how wrong she was for keeping said secret--she wouldn’t have chosen otherwise. Sometimes it takes making bad choices to protect the ones you love most. Even though things haven’t been quite the same between the two childhood friends since she finally told Jade about the affair and how and when it began she still seeks the solace and comfort of such a devout friend. It’s said that real friends love you despite knowing everything about you. When it comes to Jade Kerrigan, a statement can’t be any less true.  

Layla, just about to finish off her first drink of the evening, didn't even hear Jade approach. When the woman’s voice subtly rang out a small smile twitches at her lips and she takes that last sip before passing her glass to Mingus, the bartender. “Another,” she states softly while tapping the rim with one slender digit. The crease on her lips deepens as she turns to face her friend and is greeted with the question. A nonchalant shrug is offered as she simply states, “We grew up. With that came the realization that we could no longer be oblivious to the horrors of reality.” Layla huffs a small laugh and shakes her head. Sometimes it hard for her to turn off abstract thought. “Yeah, simple would be nice,” she murmurs, taking her second drink from Mingus and nodding a thanks. “Rough day at the office, I take it?” In all honesty, she’s not sure how Jade or Orion do it. Putting their lives on the line everyday in a crime-ridden city like Boston. It’s admirable. 
 
“Eh,” she subtly grunts before taking another sip of her drink and flipping back her blonde locks. “Just the usual--School and work, criminals and socialites, gamblers and hookers, cops and politicians.” Slow eye roll offered. “Busy days and sleepless nights. My father got Mom in this fancy rehab facility. Bet she doesn't last 3 days and I’m sure there would be hell to pay when the step-witch finds out he’s helping her. She’s running off the fumes of him going public with me. It’s never-ending. I’m surprised Ori didn't tell you. He was the one to drop her off this morning.” She takes another drink, this time gulping down nearly half the contents just before waving Mingus over. “Two shots each of Irish Whiskey,” she motions to Jade then to herself. The next bit of news making her nervous and anxious. She clears her throat. It can wait. “Your turn.” Jade

Simple. It was only a word, yet a dream wrapped tightly within it. Things had not ever been simple, so the idea that they could one day be that was nothing but a fantasy that would never come to pass. Jade knew she could strive for it, but it would always be just a little out of reach, just close enough to smell, but never to fully taste. Simple was a concept that had been long ago lost on a three year old child, slipping through her fingers before she could even grasp it, right along with her innocence that should have remained intact much longer than it had, never having a chance to lose its new smell. It didn’t make the concept any less alluring, but with a shred of acceptance and a lethal dose of reality, perhaps she could let go of the façade that served as the cloaking device for an idea that was nothing more than that. A dream, a fantasy, a façade.

With her drink in hand, Jade went to it as if she had not tasted a dampness to her mouth in the last twenty four hours. By the time Layla turned the conversational floor over to her, her own glass was empty. A gesture of a lifted chin, along with the glance to the glass, was enough to prompt the barkeep to bring over another glass filled to the brim, leaving it for the thirsty patron beside her best friend. The song Layla sang of the balance of life was something Jade understood, though she did not much dabble in the same circle of life that Layla was a part of. Jade had to suppress the inner law enforcement side of her anytime Layla’s multifaceted professions were mentioned, keeping herself slightly distanced from them, knowing only a bare minimum in order to attempt to maintain the balance within the confines of their friendship without the influence of legal obligation. Layla knew how much to say and Jade knew how much not to hear to make it all work out.

The new glass was empty almost as soon as it had arrived, perfectly timed as Layla requested shots for the two of them. Jade gave a slow nod of her head, in full agreement with something stronger. “No, he didn’t, but we haven’t been very communicative the last couple of days?” Jade’s voice rose slightly at the end of her statement slash question. It was nothing to be concerned over, as Jade and Orion were anything but typical. “Work.” She reminded her friend, the sole reason for almost everything in her life that wasn’t going according to some grand plan of things that she truly didn’t even have. “We text more than we talk, but it’s enough, ya know?” She asked, her brows lifting as she indicated that it might not exactly be enough, but it was as ‘enough’ as Jade felt she was going to get until the Savastano case was closed.

“Okay, my turn. Let’s see. Work. Cael. Orion. Work is work. I’m there at six in the morning and half the time I’m not getting out of there until almost midnight. When I do get out, it’s with arms full of files to continue working from the comfort of my bed. When I worked at the police department with Orion, it was fast paced, ya know? Always working on a new case, some days it was four or five in a day. There was a sense of instant gratification that came with the close of most days. I felt the difference I was making in the city. Now? In those suits and meetings?” She leaned a bit closer, letting her true feelings be known for the first time. “I hate it there.” The statement disclosed to Layla was one that even Orion did not know. Jade was really good at putting on a strong face and going through with most anything she put her mind to without much regard to her own personal standing within it; this was no exception. She returned to an upright position, taking the shot in unison with her friend, nodding for another one. “Eight months I’ve been on this case. Eight months. This one case. I don’t have a change of pace. I don’t have a change in goals. Every day I am looking over the same things I looked over all day the day before and getting absolutely nowhere fast.”

Jade paused, holding back a piece of information about what her next step would be, not certain that she was ready to make mention of it to anyone. “Cael. Cael’s an ass. He’s started this thing where he’s getting heavily drunk, in excess. It’s unnecessary. I don’t have a problem with him drinking, per say, but it’s the things he’s doing and saying when he’s drinking that I have an issue with. Hurtful things. It’s like, he’s taking out twenty years of frustration on me and when it happens, it’s kind of funny… it’s like I’m not a cop. I’m not an FBI agent. I’m just his sister, and shockingly defenseless against the verbal attacks he delivers. He says it’s harmless and always does the morning after apologies, but it’s wearing on me. Half the time, I’m either staying at the office until I’m fairly certain he’s passed out somewhere, or I’m slipping in to my room, locking the door, putting in the earphones, and hitting files until I pass out in them just to avoid him.” This would markedly go down as the first time, in her life, that Jade had complained anything about her brother. She hated to do it, but the truth had to be told. As of late, she hated the situation and was on an endless search for an answer as to why it was going on at all.

Another shot, another story. “And Orion.” She shook her head, a telling smile gracing her lips as it almost always did at the mention of the boy’s name. “Cael’s on this kick that I need to put out.” She stated it almost too plainly, indicating a truth under the influence of alcohol that Jade would almost never come right out and say. “He thinks I don’t trust Orion. And I do. I trust him like I trust you.” Jade was clearly getting somewhere with this line of thought, though she was breaking her words apart the way she had as a child, indicating undoubtedly that the entire topic was uncomfortable for her and only probably being displayed due to her slightly altered mental state. “He makes this argument to me, all of the time. It’s like ‘Hey sis, how was your day? Sleep with O yet?’ but not exactly that plainly, but you get the point?” She asked, already shaking her own head no at the thought of it all. “It’s almost like…” With a hard bite at her lower lip, she couldn’t quite bring herself to fully let the thought out of her lips that perhaps Cael’s insistence was somehow perpetuated by conversations had between himself and Orion when they would be out, getting sloshed together, before Cael would come dragging in and spilling his thoughts at her without the shield of sobriety.

”I need simple.” The original statement repeated from the mouth of Jade as she finally met the eyes of Layla once more. She had surely covered the three main portions of her life, not necessarily in the order of importance, recapping what the last two weeks had presented her with. She had no grand story that would make Layla shine with jealousy at the life Jade was caught up in. She had no immense glamour or romantic arc to gush over. Instead, it was complaint after complaint, which was nothing like Jade’s normal demeanor, something Layla would instantly realize. The hardest part of it all for Jade was her relationship with Cael, as that had been the one thing she had always been able to count on, though the resentment that seemed to boil up from the man under the influence was something that cut too deep for the emotionally damaged twin he resided with. Jade’s ability to put on a brave face had been taught to her at an all too early age, yet at twenty-three years old, she was sitting before her best friend, finally revealing a part of herself that most would never believe came from her as such emotion simply did not ordinarily dwell within her, even more seldom being displayed.

”So there’s my story.” She stated, lifting the next shot glass to her lips, tossing it back, surely on a mission to go home as drunk, if not more intoxicated, than Cael always did. “So tell me something incredibly romantic, something to make me completely jealous and wish that we could trade for a day?” She requested, though she already had a feeling that it might turn into a complaint cycle from Layla as well. “Throw me just a little something.” She urged, blinking her eyes to meet those of Layla’s, begging her to have something to share that might put just a little sparkle in the blonde’s eyes that Jade could memorize and then mimic on her own, furthering the ability to put on that brave face as their night would come to an end, leaving her to face the reality of the three situations that she held little to no control over. Layla Secrets and lies, they have a remarkable way at destroying relationships. Layla hates keeping things from Jade and Orion… especially Jade. It’s something she realized years ago when Declan started coming around and spending time with her… since she first realized at the age of 14 she was his and he wouldn’t have any other way--not like she wanted it any other way. Jade should’ve been the first person she turned to. All the times growing up they would talk and share things about their lives from the mundane to the personal experiences, never once did she ever bring up his name. It’s not like she didn’t want to… she just couldn’t risk anyone finding out and getting him into trouble. She would’ve never forgiven herself. When Jade finally learned about Declan one year ago, it put a strain on the friendship Layla hasn’t handled very well. Since coming back from France and getting more involved with her Uncles business she once again is placed in a position in which she cannot be as candid as she would like with Jade. It puts everyone in quite the awkward predicament. Deep down; it felt like a betrayal, but then again so would revealing certain things about both Declan and her uncle Donal. For both personal and business reasons as well as respect for Jade, she’s learned how to maneuver around certain topics. It still doesn’t mean she doesn’t need her best friend and all the perks that comes with having one such as Jade as her closest confidant. 
 
Despite what she couldn’t tell her… there were still things only Jade could understand and that she could only tell her. Growing up they had been two peas in a pod--the outcasts. Just two quiet girls from broken and dysfunctional homes living in a world of nothing less than pure chaos. The only other people they had were their brothers. Layla probably wouldn’t have gotten through childhood if not for Orion. With their mom being gone or high most of the time, she was often neglected and left to her own devices. For the longest time, until Declan that is, Jade, Cael, and Orion were Layla’s world. It seemed natural when those two got together… like it was meant to be. Most girls might be pissed about their best friend and brother hooking up--not Layla though. One can say early on she had an inkling the two might end up together and in her eyes, no two people could be more right for each other than they are. Jade was already like a sister, her being with Orion just made it even more so. So, when Jade felt under the gun--pressured and stressed… even knowing her friend capable of handling almost anything that came her way… she couldn’t help feel the weight of her burdens. Especially, when it involved so many things that hit close to home. 
 
Quietly she listened to her friend, absorbing and processing every word taking a couple of more shots in unison as well. “Ya know Jade,” she begins as a sigh pushes past her lips. “I’m not surprised you hate the FBI. We grew up in this city and on these streets and you know it better than anyone I know…” She takes a moment to find the right words to say next. “I know you and I don’t see eye to eye these days on certain things, but I hope you know that some of the things I do…”Layla diverts her gaze, shame casting shadows across her crystalline orbs. “I hate. I see the worst kinda people--a lot of ‘em cops. This city… there’s always somethin’ goin’ down. It just gets worse everyday. Too much greed… too much bloodshed.” Boston needs people like you on the streets. Honestly, I wish you woulda’ stayed put. I get why ya moved on, but damn… at least you had Orion and the others watchin’ your back. The FBI… I don’t know chick. I just hope you have someone you can trust.” Layla meets her gaze again and offers a weak smile. “I’m sorry… I should be makin’ ya feel better.” 
 
It’s the mention of Cael and Orion that causes her to chuckle out loud. “Jesus,” she mutters. “I swear… those two get me everytime…” Past memories like a montage flood her mind of the four of them hanging out and having fun--before everything changed… before she met Declan and got involved with him. If not for the Irishman she’s pretty sure she would’ve ended up with Cael. He had been her first crush and to her knowledge she his. “Is it like a twin thing?” She abruptly asks. ‘I mean he’s so concerned about your sex life with O. It’s not like that with us… he never asks me about my relationships period… or whatever. It’s like he’s content in being oblivious and you and I both know…” Shot taken and slammed down. “My brother is anything but oblivious.” She grins. “Cael’s a piece of work. Always has been… I don’t think he gets it hun.” She leans in and offers a nudge to Jade shoulder with her own. “He was always much more brazen and socially gifted than the rest of us… it’s like he had it easier or somethin’.” A thoughtful look rides her expression. “He might have a lot to say on the matter, but when it comes down to it… All that does matter is what’s right for you and Orion, Jade. We both know my brother is different than most guys… He’s special.” Suddenly she is beaming with pride. “You make him happy… sex or no sex.” 
 
The prideful grin instantly turns sly as she leans in and whispers. “But let me tell ya… sex can be a lot of fun with the right person.” The apples of her cheeks flush red. Layla has only ever been with Declan, but in the 7 year span they’ve been ‘together’ her older lover has taught her many things. Not too mention all the stuff she learned in France from a very quirky English Lit professor that moonlighted as an escort. The woman became a mentor in a way and happened to be one of her only friends while at boarding school. “It’ll happen when it happens… Just tell Cael I’ll make his life at the pub hell if he doesn’t ease up,” she teases though the threat could be very real indeed. She’s already cut back his ability to drink while at work and has been contemplating cutting him off from the drinking period whenever at the pub. That’s just how bad the drinking had gotten. Would she mention this to Jade now. No… Not yet. There would be no more complaints from Layla… Not even the ones of Declan and how the secrecy of their relationship and his philandering ways are tearing her up inside. No more negativity… not tonight anyway. 
 
“Romantic? You want romantic?” Layla snorts a laugh. “There’s not been much romance in my life lately, but I think you might be proud of me for something… I gave Declan an ultimatum. I finally told him that I’m no longer gonna tolerate being a secret. We either come out and make it official or we end it.” In all honesty, Layla wouldn’t have been able to go through with her threat if he denied her, but she damn sure wouldn’t let him know that. A cheesy grin finds her lips. No matter the problems between the two… she’s head over heels in love with the man. Most people either fear him or hate him and all see him as a cocky prick. Granted, the assumptions aren’t so far-fetched, but there’s a side to him Layla gets to see that no one else does. A man that despite his vices and failures tries to be better… a man that deep down only wants what his parents had--love and family eternal. “He asked me to move in with him.” She pauses. “I said yes… as long as I could do some redecorating of course. . God forbid I live in that Irish bachelor pad. ” She throws up her hands and motions the bartender for another round of drinks. “He’s given me an unlimited budget to do it too! I couldn’t believe it! I still can’t… he’s so set in his ways… I guess… I guess that’s romantic, right?” She asks genuinely curious. Jade

A mixture of acknowledgement and support goes a long way from a friend when the other is facing challenges. The balances lean in one direction, then flow in the other with a continuous motion that never fully appears to stop on one side or the other. Conversation can drift from one focus to the other, yet never settle on just one topic, as two long-time friends spend much needed time together, re-acclimating themselves to one another with no confession of the need to do so. Things seemed to change so often, yet the topics of discussion never much did. For Jade, it was work, Cael, and Orion. For Layla, work, Orion, Cael, and Declan. She was only granted an additional topic due to the fact that she and Cael were never given their chance to solidify actions backed by their crushes, though Jade had always secretly hoped they would share a double life one day, marrying one another’s brother, becoming sisters two times over. It was a hope that she held on to up until about a year before when the truth of a long-term relationship with Declan had found its way to the surface, shattering most any chance of her future double-sisterhood. When it came to pass that she was filled in on such information, her heart broke for Cael a bit. She knew how Cael had felt about her, yet there was no longer the chance of such being reciprocated. Instead, Cael kept right on doing Cael, random women, drinking himself away, living a life Jade would not have chosen for him. He seemed happy, most of the time, so how bad could it have been? Layla seemed happy as well, so what more could Jade have truly wanted?

The lack of normalcy between herself and Orion had been a constant struggle in Jade’s mind. When she and Orion were together, the idea of normal didn’t often flood her mind. It wasn’t until those moments with Cael that she would actually see that she and Orion moved at a snail’s pace in their relationship. They had been together for years now, the date actually unknown as to when they became official. Jade credited the date to senior prom, their first official night together, though it had been set up as a favor based in friendship. She couldn’t have known that night that the spark would be there with the two of them alone, yet they were emotionally inseparable since that evening. Letting Orion down was weighing heaviest on Jade than anything else and it was not to be held beyond the scope of reason that she may act on Cael’s suggestions in the coming days or weeks, though the thought of penetration terrified the woman in a way that was unnatural.

“Flanagan,” Jade stated, nodding her head. “I don’t have a ‘partner’ per say. It’s not like the department was. We all seem to work independently, yet together, if that makes any sense to you. But, Michael Flanagan is a good man. He’s on this case with me and somehow keeps me going, even when I want to seal the case and let it go back in the 20-year-old dusty file folder I pulled it from in the first place. But I trust him, well… as much as I can trust someone who isn’t family to me.” That statement was easily inclusive of her biological father (who had only briefly met Orion and Layla- Jade needing to keep her father distanced from her life so that she may continue professionally without her birth identity being discovered), Allison (the woman who raised her), Cael, Layla, and Orion. She could count on one hand the people that she knew loved her, and whom she loved. She could trust those people because they had proven it to her, time and time again, at a very young age. There was a circle of trust and it seemed as though once inside, one would never be released. Even Layla’s years of transgressions, keeping the secrets of her relationship from Jade, defying a girl code that stated they must share every detail, as unimportant as it may seem, did not grant her a full exit from that circle of trust. It may have put her on the edge, putting a strain on the friendship as the two tried to make their way through the deceit, but Layla was not permitted to exit the circle, as it was tight and firm, allowing no one within to depart her life without holding on for dear life.

The disruption in the conversational tide only came as Layla made mention of just what sex could be. Fun. No. That was not a word Jade could even imagine relating to the act. Jade knew sex was personified in every avenue of media. She knew that many crimes were based in it. She knew that somewhere, someone, and probably most someone’s, enjoyed it. But the very thought of it sent a terrifying chill through her body. She was almost surprised that Layla could speak so casually of it before her. It was the same as Cael. How could he mention it as he had? Did everyone in Jade’s life think that it was high time she get over the innocence that had been stolen from her at the youngest age? Was she failing Orion, and everyone else, at every turn when it came to this? Was Orion possibly venting to Cael, as she had wondered before? Could he have feasibly asked Layla to speak on his behalf of the subject? The very idea of any form of insertion was enough to cause Jade to pull back, to hide in a dark corner, and refuse to come out, yet here it was, again. The thought was pushed from Jade’s mind. Orion would not do that. Orion understood what her issues were with the entire situation, and he loved her still. He constantly reminded her that he didn’t need it to prove her love and devotion to him. He promised, on multiple occasions, that he understood. Jade knew that Orion was a protector, and this subject was no exception. It was engrained in him at an early age. He had been that for her since the night she knocked her tiny fist against the apartment door down the hallway and would meet the neighboring siblings. Orion would not pressure her on his own, nor would he enlist the troops, leaving Jade to only face the fact that maybe, just maybe, she needed to push through a first encounter with him, and just do it. It was becoming ridiculous that she was 23 years old, and yet had still no experience in the matter, aside from that which was taken from in her childhood.

“It’s not like I don’t want to sometimes… there are definitely times where it crosses my mind. But to do it? I just...” Jade’s voice dropped off, her discomfort on the subject ever present, as it had always been. If there was one thing unchanging with her, it was this. It was so deeply rooted and interweaved throughout her life that deviating from the hesitation and fear was not something she had any idea how to do. Cael had sparked the first thoughts recently, and regardless of intent, Layla was doing so now. She couldn’t commit to it being tomorrow, but Jade had this aching feeling within her that maybe everyone else was right and it was high time she just conquer her own feelings on the matter and do it, for the sake of showing that love and trust in Orion. “I need another drink.” She plainly stated, disregarding the previous line of conversation just like that, holding no interest of it coming back up.

The drink in hand allowed her to focus in on what she had hoped would be insanely romantic, and it did not fail her at all. “Nice.” She nodded, tossing back another shot, imagining what that must feel like for Layla. Not only had she been granted the ability to share a space with the man she had loved most of her life, but the permission to make changes to it, to alter the appearance, to put her own touch on the newly shared living space. “That’s… terribly romantic.” Jade confessed with a nod to her head, the gleam in Layla’s eyes noted and memorized. Her strikingly beautiful blonde friend with her rough start was finally getting a taste of it all. Openly being with Declan. Moving in with him. Planning a world around the two of them. The green monster was not something that often fell into Jade’s persona, yet at this moment, she would be lying if she said she had no hopes of one day having that level of normalcy. “You make me sick.” Jade teased, the smirk to her lips making her intentions evident as she lifted a new shot glass to her lips, certainly feeling the effects as time wore on.

The more Jade drank, the more detached from her oral filter she became, allowing words to pass through which normally would have been caught and tucked away for another time, also known as never. Chatting was not Jade’s strong point, yet here she was, going on and on with Layla, proof of the level of her intoxication. “I’m going to miss this.” She stated with an explanation pending at her tongue. “It could still happen some, I guess, but we’d just have to be careful and incognito!” An addition to her original statement as she nodded her request to the barkeep for another line of shots. “I trust you, Layla, ex… explic… a lot.” She grinned, unable to quite form a word from the large vocabulary she ordinarily held with no pauses- explicitly. “I want to tell ya, but I’ve told no one, and you gotta keep it on the D.L.” Slang. Something the agent did not believe in, yet there it was. “Eight longggg months is a really long time.” She stated redundantly, the fresh round of shots arriving before them, an endless stream of liquid courage. “I can’t get nowhere. Round and round, chasin’ my ass. A merry go round that nevah runs out of power. One thin’ to the next to the next to the next to the next…” Her language slurring, her ‘g’ dropping off of words, an altered state that to date, only Layla had ever truly witnessed fully, and could be counted on one hand how many times she had seen such a spectacle. “I think I’m gonna go in. All the way. Deep. Covah.” She stated, implying such things that should have never been spoken of, yet she felt an obligation to tell Layla, and Cael, and of course, Orion.

Jade had not yet told any of them, though she had known for days now that it was looking as if she might need to take this series of actions to put the man responsible for her mother’s murder away for good. “I need a confession, so I gotta get close. CI’s aren’t workin’. Flana… Michael... that guy I work with? He suggested it the other day and I told him there was anothah way, but I am thinkin’ there’s not. So I just wanna tell ya, I’m gonna miss this if we can’t do it.” The ordinarily seamless language of the brunette was broken, words falling apart as if she were uneducated. “Can we get anothah round, hun?” Her previous sophisticated gestures of request had now been replaced with such a tongue that was unfamiliar to her, yet the lines upon lines of shots consumed had taken her eloquent language, shaken it up, and spit back something that tasted funny on her lips, prompting a laugh as it sounded foreign on her own ears. “Don’t. Tell.” She firmly instructed, the look of stone implicating the seriousness as the fleeting thought of security issues came and passed within the walls of her drunken mind. “Anyone.” She furthered with a nod of her head, followed by a laugh at her lips. Jade Kerrigan was effectively drunk, completely wasted, in the trusted companionship of her best friend, where she knew no harm would come. -February 6, 2015

[planetcallisto]

— a warm summer’s moon

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, angst(not really), comedy(the shitty kind)

au: time traveller!taehyung, teleporter!tae, just a very intellectual!tae

warnings: a lot of nerdy references, a little bit of banter-y swearing

word count: 2652

a/n: this was a request from the cute moonlight anon (*^▽^*) it’s a little bit abstract and with a bunch of the references, so I’ll add links to them just in case anyone doesn’t know them ~ I hope you enjoy it

requests are open :D

Spending a little bit of time on the moon changes people. 

Popcorn was thrown in a lame attempt past the rusted grey railings containing the small balcony your apartment had.

“Taehyung! You can't just throw popcorn around like that-”

Completely disregarding your words, or not even hearing them his fingers reach into the stereotypical red and white bag of buttery kernels.

“If only we were closer then we could actually see the fireworks.”

Looking over at him, you laugh. This fully grown man was more than ready to start a fight with the tall building that obstructed your view.

The fuzzy red blanket was ripped from your body and tossed to the dirty pavement below as to allow Taehyung let off some steam. You, on the other hand, were ready to freeze over and fall into a shattered pile of your iced skin. Who knew a night in the middle of the strongest heat wave, in what was supposedly the hottest month of the year would be this chilling. Sort of funny if you really think about it.

The sun was setting directly behind the building tinted the sky from it's previous blue to shades of red to yellow. For you, it set a warm feeling in your blood and ran through your entire body. That same feeling you get when you step under the hot stream of water from the shower head after a day in the cold winter breeze. But unfortunately, to others it was all but a beautiful way for the sun to say “goodnight.” The family that sat on the balcony next to yours began to complain on, “why the hell did we stay up this late to watch fireworks that are blocked by that damned building?” and, “mommy I can't see what's happening.”

Oh but child, you can see what's happening. The sun that gives you power to live through the day, the blue sky in which it sits and lights your way, and the bright moon that took it's place with a bright white shine emanating from its very core. But of course, like everyone who doesn't give the earth itself a second thought, they continued to complain.

“I thought you said we'd see them from here?”

Your foot made contact with the back of his thighs when he finally decided to sit down, “Have some patience dumbass, they'll do them around 10.”

“You liar, you said it'd start at 9.”

Reaching for the blanket you glance over at him before shrugging, “I just said that so you'd actually come over.”

It was the shit-eating-grin that followed his short scoff that really made you want to kick him again, “so you lied just to get me in your apartment, how greedy of you.”

“Why don't you shut up and enjoy the sunset you fuckhead.”

“Oh so now I'm a fuckhead? I'm really interested on how your adorable pet names for me develop. And you really shouldn't swear, there's children.” His hand gestured to the family in the apartment next to yours who, matter of factly, did hear the innocent conversation that took place just a few minutes ago.

Boy, did he do things to you, and not always good things. Though, in times like this, where all you had was the warmth of the blanket and him sitting next to you, it was easy to relax. He spoke like he was a 4 year literature graduate but gave company like a newly joined frat boy - obnoxiously cocky, yet so intriguing and well spoken.

“Hey don't hog the blanket.” And just like a selfish young boy, he yanked the blanket over him leaving you completely exposed.

“Wow thanks Romeo, how gracious of you to let me freeze to death.”

“So does that make you Juliet?”

“You fucking loser just share the blanket. If you haven’t realised it’s actually negative 58 degrees.”

“Only if you become the Horatio to my Hamlet,” the simper yet garish smile that followed was similar to those of the antagonist of every soap opera ever created; brassy and loud with their actions but amongst all that, they held that slight bit of skittish affection.  Shakespeare did write one of the most iconic love stories after all.  

“Hey, I didn’t know Shakespeare conceived a senseless, lesser son.” It was said in less of a question and more of a ‘hey did you know I really hate you right now’ kind of way.

Like every single time you tried to make a snarky comment to him, he would look at you with the same cloudless expression, where the chestnut that pooled his iris was replaced with the deepest of midnights and peppered with stars only to encompass the brightest of full moons, a juxtaposition that made your heart frail.

“Hey, I didn’t know Venus was reincarnated as an obnoxious baby.”

“How long did it take you to come up with that one Einstein?”

“Don’t you worry about that my little bismuth, it seemed to have quite the effect on you anyways.”

The light from his eyes followed you even after you looked away. No human on earth can resist the ominous allure of the moon on a night where the stars have been robbed from the sky and the only bit of iridescence was blocked by a tower of metal and glass. You didn’t even have to look at him to feel the tranquility of his existence to cascade down your bare shoulders and send its heat through your skin. As for myriad of words that dripped down his lips and onto yours were filled the little space inside of you that was forever longing for those same lips to find home on your neck, culling the life out of you.

“What do you think life on the moon would be like?” You asked in hopes of pulling a very specific answer from him, maybe something along the lines of, ‘it is the east and Juliet is the sun’?

“Well there wouldn't be any rules right?”

You nod your head. There wouldn't be.

Tousling his chestnut hair he pushes on his theory, “Do whatever you please with whoever you wanted. Lay on the cold ground under a blanket of stars every night and count them until your eyes feel heavy and your dreams bring you to a different world. Funny isn't it? You're already on the moon and you still dream of another existence.”

And that's when you found yourself planted on what felt like dusty surface of the moon itself. Though something felt a little out of place. Balmy was the only way the describe it. Nothing you've been ever taught in school could explain why it wasn't exceedingly cold, or not cold at all for that matter. It was when you opened your eyes and saw the everlasting black sea ahead of you when that warmness drifted far into the invisible horizon and in coming was a tsunami of stars as far as the eye can see.

“Do you like it?”

Words uttered sotto voce as to not disturb any life that had already marked it's territory on the celestial rock.

“Taehyung how-”

“A wise man once said: Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.”

“You can't just rip a quote out of Letters to a Young Poet and expect me to understand.”

“But it worked didn't it?”

A mantra become famous by repetition - although isn't that what makes it a mantra? Will you wake up from this crazy delusion and find that it was all a dream from the start? But how does it feel so real? Wasn't it Berkeley who said that nothing can exist until it is perceived? Well, was standing on what humans call the moon not perceptive enough for you? The dust that lifted off the ground and evaporated into what exactly? There was no air to breath, nor was there a single breeze to pull them from your grasp, yet, somehow, they floated on their merry way, probably off to find another abandoned rock to sit upon.

Answering questions with more questions. A philosopher's dream and nightmare. What answer were you expecting to find? Yes, he can control time and space, somehow broke out of the earth's atmosphere and stood on the moon faster than the speed of light. Absolutely not.

“Hey, stop thinking too much. It'll ruin the fun.”

Every night you would gaze up at the sky wonder what kind of impossible feat you would have to perform to reach the moon and be among the stars. Lunacy? Is that what he’d say? Make an abhorrent pun about how being in love with the moon made you a lune-atic. You never knew he had the moonlight sitting between the palms of his hands, ready to sunder it from its galactic friends and place it in your grasp.

Cry, was the first thing your body felt was right to do in this situation, but as tears flooded your eyes they danced off of your skin and joined their friends in the sky. That abstruse warmth returned but this time in the form of an embrace by the man of the hour.

“Why are you crying? It's only us here.”

His sweater sparkled like it had been torn right out of the sky and sewn to fit him rather loosely. Maybe it was in fact a dream. When have your wishes ever come true in such rapid succession after wishing them? Never. Never in your lifetime. Never after your lifetime would you have thought you would be graced by the presence of a man who not only spoke to you like you were a Sylph but held you ever so softly as if you would sprout wings and escape from him.

All of your fantasies fell into place one by one and it amazed you how calm you became. As if you'd been living on the moon your entire life with Taehyung.

“Oh my bewitching moonlight, what a hex you've cast on me” He breathed. Lips as soft as cotton attached themselves to the base of your neck and gently made their way up. Every touch made you that much more somber until you'd become completely wrapped around his finger.

“You sent me on the craziest trip of my life the moment you looked at me. Your lips speak my name and deliria consumes me whole.”

In that moment, his eyes lifted to yours. You stared and stared and stared hoping to find that little trace of dishonesty. You cleared your mind and wondered if Descartes’ demon had already decieted you. But nothing came.

Instinctively, you shut your eyes as his lips grazed yours. A kiss you've been waiting for millennia to experience. Those same lips that spoke with such intellect, kissed in the same vain - with frailty that sent your mind in a daze.  His hands rose to the middle of your back as he tugs of your lips, “You're a lune-atic, did you know that?”

Not even a second was given for you to respond before he went back for more. The tip of his nose pushed against your skin the more passionate he became. You wanted to pull back and breath, but you couldn’t. There was no air in space. His lips were made of cherries and were just as sweet; they were red as celosias and full like pillows.

Platonic? Oh no, not at all. And you wanted to make that clear to him.

“Taehyung...we just ...you just...and we….and then…” You volume sunk one word after the next until the last few ‘ands’ came out only as helpless murmurs.

“My naive little moonlight, didn’t we say that there were no rules on the moon?”  

Perhaps that also meant any socially constructed ones were thrown out the proverbial window. Friends can show their affection completely platonically, right?

“It’s almost 10, isn’t that when the fireworks are supposed to start?” He breathes.

You hide yourself in the vastness of his sparkling sweater. Breathing in the cherry and the smell of burning stars you smile and let yourself get lost in it. Your heart rate slows as he runs his fingers through the little knots in your hair and you find yourself in a precarious situation. He was a man of many talents or a jack of all trades, and at least half of the people he’s met fall for his overwhelming charms within the first few minutes of his company. And you don’t really blame them. With the mind of a modern day scholar, a highbrow fashion sense and the flirtatious charisma of a minx, it was hard not to.

“Taehyung, will we get back in time to see the fireworks,” you mumble into his chenille sweater.

A laugh erupts from his throat as he puts your worries at ease, “Don’t worry my little moonlight, if you stop stuffing your face in my sweater, you’ll see that we’re just in time.”

And to your surprise, he was right. You found yourself still cooped up in his arms but back on the popcorn littered balcony. Was this where all of society's unspoken rules set in? Where two people can’t stay friends after being so intimate unless they wanted to be labeled the infamous friends-with-benefits? Quickly you let yourself go of his grasp and kicked the back of his thighs for the second time that night.

“Why do you keep hitting me? Has Cronus inhabited that little evil body of yours?”

Just as he finished the sentence a burst of red that lit up anything in it's immediate vicinity, Taehyung’s face included. After it was a combination of gold and silver spirals that each were followed by an onslaught of wows and whoas.

“You drive me fucking crazy Kim Taehyung,” you laugh, “I had no idea that the moon was so easily accessible to you.”

“Looks like you’ve returned back to your asinine self. Welcome home Curly.”

Turns out that a little time on the moon changes a person. He went from calling you his little moonlight to comparing you to one of the most famously-stupid characters ever conceived.

“I know how much you love me, but staring isn’t polite. You’re the one who begged me to be here to watch these fireworks with you,” and with that smart-ass line his smug grin returned as well.

“I fucking hate you, you bastard.”

His fingers grip your wrist and pull you flush against him and his sickly-sweet addicting smell all while pressing a teasing kiss to your lips, “Why don’t we live like we did on the moon? I hadn’t known moonlight until I held you in my arms. But enough of that cliche, unless you don’t mind it, my little moonlight.”

“Ah, Taehyung, your mind works in such interesting ways.” He smiles as your fingers brush away the stray hairs that covered his face, “But I think I’m going to stick with fuckhead as your pet name, it suits you very well, don’t you think?”

Whether he liked the name or not, he planted another kiss to your lips with nothing but a short, “Mhm,” falling past them.

The two of you turned to face the spectacle that happened right before your eyes. Colours of every kind flew up into the sky and exploded before joining the rest of the smoke in the atmosphere.

Taehyung pulled in a sharp breath, a tell-tale sign that he was about to make a snide comment, “Oh and by the way, you really shouldn’t swear, there are children.”

[swanderful1]

A Cold Awakening: Chapter 5/?

Modern crime AU. Twenty years have gone by since Storybrooke was shaken to the core by a gruesome crime that went unsolved. Sheriff David Nolan and his partner, daughter Emma are forced to revisit the crime. At the same time, Killian Jones and his older brother Liam have been drawn back to the town they had longed to never see again, struggling to find their own answers. As taunting notes and clues show up they are taken on a journey to finally bring justice for the Jones family. And Emma Nolan finds herself caught in a situation more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.

Note: ~5500 words, read more on AO3

Later that morning, Emma found herself at the Jones’ crumbling estate flanked by her team. It could have only been easily assumed that the letter they received this morning meant to go here. “Lies in the place this very mess started” the last few words of the riddle imprinted in her brain. There was little argument from everyone as to whether or not the note had meant the mansion. However, Emma had a feeling the location was the easy part. Scouring the ruins of a 7000 square foot palace… maybe would be a bit less obvious. Nevertheless it was a good start, it was some sort of lead and it got her out of the office. Perhaps a different perspective was what she needed to break through the roadblock in her brain. Emma hated not making progress.

“Emma, Robin and I can take the basement first. Neal, David, and Ruby try the main level. The remainder of my team will take the bedrooms on the second floor.” Graham lightly gave directions. He had brought five agents with him today to help with the searching. The more people the better. They had a lot of ground to cover. Overall, Graham seemed to be trepidacious about stepping on anyone’s toes, though David had all but told him everyone was to listen to when the detective gave orders. “Sounds good. If anyone finds anything just radio in,” David waved the little black radio in the air with his latex glove covered fingers. He was far more optimistic than Emma.

She looked to Graham and gave him a slight smile, she tried to be supportive of him. He had made a conscious effort to have her back ever since he had arrived. Sitting next to her while she questioned people, going for coffee runs with her when it would be a late night at the office for everyone, he had even brought in several giant bulletin boards for her to map out her visuals of the case.

“We have a massive board at my office in Boston. It helps lay everything out. I’m a visual person myself.” He had said to her the morning he brought the boards in. They were simple but effective. She made use of them rather quickly and the rest of the office had taken to utilizing them as well.

“What do you suspect it is we’re looking for?” Graham asked her as they made their way inside the house. He wasn’t in his usual suit today, he had worn casual jeans, a gray leather jacket and boots. She remembered the first time they met. Here. At this house, and how she immediately noticed how professionally he was dressed. He was different now. It wasn’t a bad thing.

“I wish I knew,” she regarded crossing the threshold to the foyer. A grand and lofty space, ruined by time and secrets.

Emma, Graham and Robin took the basement quickly. It was likely that they could find what they were looking for in the basement as the letter had mentioned a hidden space. Lots of basements hid secrets people didn’t want to get out. Did Emma think this most recent clue would reveal the identity of the murderer? No. She could only imagine it was one of many pieces of the puzzle that would be coming together.

They scoured the basement while the rest of the team took over the main floor and second floor. It was a tiring task. The house itself was massive and the basement spanned the entire floorplan. It was half finished, it appeared as though the basement was under construction during the time of the murder and then never completed. The finished portion was significantly less creepy than the dark crevices of the unfinished half. Despite overhead lighting the room still felt dim and dark. Most of the construction equipment had been left behind and laid in this half. Emma and Robin stepped carefully over plywood stacks to get to the rows of shelves lining the far wall.

“This could take hours.” He remarked, taking a box to sift through. “What is it do you think we should exactly be on the lookout for?”

“I can’t say that I have any idea. Something not obvious. Perhaps something that could have been missed years ago during the first investigation.” She said in an uncertain voice as she also grabbed a box to begin looking through, wishing she had a better answer.

The two worked through box after box and scoured the walls for any kind of evidence. Of course this had all been done years ago but there was always a chance something subtle went unseen. Especially in a home this large.

“Any luck you two?” Graham shouted from the other end of the room, he had taken to sorting through some old filing cabinets. Emma wondered if there would be anything in there worth noting. Would she know when she found it?

“None. All just a bunch of old christmas decorations and school projects.” Robin yelled back. His hair fell over his forehead and he let out a heavy breath. Hours had gone by and they were growing tired.

“Maybe we should call it a day. It’s after 8 in the evening now.” Graham walked over to where the two were sorting. “We can come back on Monday. With a fresh take.”

Emma didn’t really want to stop searching but she knew the rest of her team did, and she didn’t want people missing anything important if they were too used to seeing the Jones’ possessions, making judgement calls on what was meaningful and what wasn’t.

“Sounds good. Let’s round up the others.” Emma responded, finally standing from where she sat on the concrete floor. Her knees cracked a bit as she rose up but she lent a hand to help out Robin who was struggling himself. He smiled, thankful.

“Any luck you three?” Ruby asked as soon as the whole group had reconnected in front of the house. It was dark outside, something Emma hadn’t even noticed being in the basement all day.

“None.” Emma shrugged. She was disappointed. But there was no way this would be easy. She knew that she just hoped her team knew that as well. She couldn’t afford to lose a single one of them.

“How about we all go for a drink or something?” the brunette suggested. Judging by the response of the rest of the people gathered in the driveway they were all on board. She however was not.

“You guys go, I think I’m just going home to Henry. He’s been alone almost every night this week.”

An exaggerated ‘awww’ went through the group. As they teased her about not coming to The Rabbit Hole with them.

“Okay. Well if you change your mind, meet us later?” Ruby twisted to nudge her friend on the shoulder, a quiet gesture of support no one else seemed to notice.

Everyone piled into their respective cars, tired from the long day and headed off. The only two remaining were Emma and Graham, who had offered to drive her back to the station to pick up her car she had left there this morning.

“Well, thanks for the ride,” Emma said as she was about to get out of his car once they pulled up next to her yellow bug.

“Emma, wait…” he touched her arm lightly, the first of any physical contact between them. “Would you like to grab coffee with me tomorrow? In the morning perhaps?”

Her face started to fall a little, looking at the very handsome detective and knowing she couldn’t possibly accept his offer. It hurt her a little. He was awfully charming, and did she mention handsome? He had been nothing short of lovely to her but it just was not in her instinct to go. To try it.

“I’m sorry. I have plans with my mom tomorrow.” Which was not a lie. But his face had started to fall a bit. “Maybe another time?”

“Yeah, okay. Another time would be good.” The smile returned to his face at the thought of the chance at another time. Though he and Emma both knew it was probably unlikely. Still, she grabbed his hand right before he released from her arm, and gave it a light squeeze hoping he understood. Then she got out of his car and climbed into her own, allowing herself to be alone with her thoughts for a while before she inevitably drove home to Henry.

After a disappointing day of searching Emma spent her Friday night at home watching movies with Henry. She had declined her invitation to meet the rest of the investigation team at the bar for a few drinks. All she wanted to do was curl up under a blanket and spend time with her son.

Their very intense Star Wars marathon had ended around 1 am with Emma waking on the couch to realize they had both fallen asleep. Henry looked so peaceful tucked into one of the big arm chairs in their movie room. It was once a dining room but Emma had chosen to fill the space with oversized couches and chairs, complete with a massive tv. It was easily the room she and her son spent the most time in. Who needs a formal dining room anyway?

She tried to leave the room without waking him but as she shut off the tv Henry stirred.

“W-what time is it?” he asked groggily, his eyes not even entirely open yet.

“It’s late, just go back to sleep.”

“No, I want to sleep in my bed.” He grumbled before he stood and tripped a bit over his own foot. Emma smiled and reached out her hand to stabilize him. Then she slowly led the way to the stairs making sure he wouldn’t fall again.

By the time they reached the upstairs hallway Henry was mostly lucid.

“Mom?” he turned before entering his bedroom.

“What’s up?”

“You’ll figure it out.” He smiled, doing his best to ease her ever-racing mind. Emma wasn’t generally a feelings person but Henry was an absolute exception. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

Emma softened and looked down at her feet almost embarrassed that her mood lately had made such an impression on Henry. “Thanks, kid. Get some rest. Love you.”

“Love you.” With that he shut his door, leaving Emma standing in the hall feeling a hell of a lot better than she had felt the past two weeks.

The next morning Emma found herself in the local bookstore scanning for something to occupy her mind. Her mother had called her two days ago insisting she take the morning to spend some time with her. Emma saw right through it and realized her father had most likely told her mother how strung out she had been. But Emma agreed to go anyway, figuring book shopping and a quiet lunch were not the most awful ways to spend a Saturday.

“I’m going to get some coffee, do you want any?” Mary Margaret asked Emma as she scanned the latest in the biography section.

“I would love some.” Emma replied. She never turned down coffee.

“Extra cinnamon?”

“Sure.” It felt effortless spending time with her mother. They had a good relationship and since Emma did not keep many friends of her own, she found that as she got older she appreciated Mary Margaret as both a mom and a friend.

Not seeing anything she liked, Emma made her way over to the fiction section, hoping to find a book that would carry her away (at least for a little while). Her dreams were short lived when she rounded the corner of a shelf to find the last person she needed to see. Killian Jones.

He was by himself idly flipping through the pages of East of Eden. He wore jeans again, similar to the ones from that first night in The Rabbit Hole. Had she not known who he was she probably would have thought he was handsome. Probably. She could get away before he saw her. Avoid another unpleasant interaction until the next time she had to sit down with him. But instead he turned his head, noticing there was someone at the end of the shelves blatantly staring at him. Very smooth, Emma, she thought to herself.

“Miss Nolan.” He nodded in her direction. “Can’t get away from each other, can we?” His attempt at a joke hung in the air.

“What are you doing here?” were the words she chose to have come out of her mouth next. Instead of, well, anything polite or decent.

“American television being bloody awful, I need something else to entertain me.” A moment of silence from him, then “and you?”

“I’m out with my mother. Taking a bit of a break from things.” She should apologize, or at least explain herself for their last encounter. But he beat her to it.

“I wanted to apologize for the last time we were in the same room.” He started, reaching his hand up to scratch behind his ear, something of a nervous tick he had that Emma noticed. “Being back here… under the circumstances is not pleasant for me. But that isn’t an excuse.”

She was shocked. The past few times she had seen him he was all confidence, the I’m too good for any of this nonsense persona he played so well. Standing here, now, in this little book shop, some place neutral between the two of them, he seemed to have subdued. Even humbled.

“I think I owe you an apology as well.” Now was her turn, Emma swallowed her pride just as he had done. “This can’t be easy for you, in order for anything to be accomplished we have to be able to be in a room together.”

“Without biting each other’s heads off… or drunkenly approaching them in a bar.” He finished her thought. His eyes expressive and seemingly sorry for their first time interacting with each other as well. Emma read him. He was being genuine.

“We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of at that bar.” Emma joked. A human moment now occurring between them. He smiled at her but this time it wasn’t forced.

“Fair enough. But I pride myself on being a gentleman, and that move was not.” He responded, a bit warmer toward her now. By no means were they best friends but there was a level of understanding that had been established. An olive branch. They understood each other

“If you wouldn’t mind coming in again Monday morning. I have some things I need to talk to you about…” she did not know what his answer would be, given the last time he was at the station, “another note was delivered.”

“I can be there.” He tensed a little at the mention of a note, imagining its morbid context she assumed, but offered her a hint of a smile.

“Em I got your coffee they were out of cinnamon so it’s just reg-” her mother stopped beside her taking in the man not ten steps from them.

“Mom, you remember Killian Jones?” Emma started to introduce them, not sure if that was the correct move.

“Pleasure.” He reached for her mother’s hand and shook it before Emma could finish worrying, and he appeared as the perfect gentleman. “Forgive me my departure but I must be going, I have a conference call soon and I need to get some coffee of my own.”

He was fleeing, before Mary Margaret could bust out any of the usual pleasantries that came with seeing him. The ‘oh I’m so sorry’ speech he probably got all the time now that he had returned. Emma used to do the same thing when she was pregnant. She would run into someone she knew and then bolt before they could make any of the usual bull shit comments to her. ‘Will you be staying in school?’ or ‘What are you planning to do for work?’

“I’ll see you, Monday?” he asked before rushing off, meeting Emma’s eyes and quirking his dark eyebrow in such a way that she felt something in her stomach, what she was not entirely sure. But it wasn’t unpleasant.

“See you Monday.” She replied maintaining composure as she realized how well that went compared to her last meeting with him. At least they had cleared some of the air. Maybe now she could do her job and produce some actual results.

“Well he grew up nicely,” her mother’s voice broke the silence.

“Mom!” Emma nudged Mary Margaret, hoping Killian was far enough away he hadn’t heard that.

Later, after Emma had sufficiently maxed out her monthly book budget, she and her mother sat down at Granny’s diner for lunch. The old restaurant filled with people from the town having a leisurely Saturday lunch. Emma looked around wondering if one of the people in this room could have been behind the notes, or even worse the person who had been involved in the Jones murder in the first place. Were they the same person? Guilty of the crime and playing a sick, twisted game they knew they could win? Her father had told her not to rule anyone out. So that was exactly what she was trying to do.

She had made an attempt to casually bring up how Graham asked her to meet him for coffee because she wanted her mother’s opinion on the idea. However the question launched into a whole new conversation.

“Did you ever think maybe it’s time to start dating again?” Mary Margaret took the latest conversational development as a smooth transition into deeper territory.

“I go on dates.” Emma tried to defend herself, not doing a great job.

“Emma…” her mother eyed her from across the table. “Is that what you call those?”

“I have dated plenty of people. You know me though, no one’s ever good enough to bring home to meet Henry.” It was true. Being a mother, it was hard not think that way. It was hard not to picture every single guy she had dinner with meeting Henry (and immediately feeling anxious at the thought). Her last real, long term boyfriend had been Neal. They had stayed together throughout all of Emma’s pregnancy, despite being 16 years old at the time. But realized shortly after he was born that they were better as friends. It broke her to lose him in that way after sharing such a monumental experience, but it was for the best interest of Henry. She wanted nothing more than for Henry to be able to have his parents get along and be in the same room. The men after Neal had all been replaceable, disposable. But Emma liked it that way, it was what worked for her. It was was kept her from being hurt again.

“Emma. You and Neal have done an amazing job raising Henry.” She reached across the table for her daughter’s hand. “Truly. I have never seen two people co-parent so well. But he’s thirteen now. And he would want you to be happy.”

“Happiness doesn’t necessarily come from finding a man.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Mary Margaret released Emma’s hand, retreating from the contact and the conversation. “Just, promise me you’ll stay open to it.”

“I will.” Emma smiled. Her mother meant well. “Now can I eat my grilled cheese?”

The remainder of lunch was uneventful, her mother was clearly trying to take Emma’s mind off of things. Which she greatly appreciated, she loved her mother but the only thing that would truly ease Emma’s ever wandering thoughts would be reaching a conclusion. Whatever that conclusion may be.

Emma waved good-bye to her mother as they parted ways in front of Granny’s. Their bellies now satisfied and full with grilled cheese and onion rings. She walked over to Gold’s Pawnbroker and Antiques Dealer, the shop owned by Neal’s father. Robert Gold. Henry wasn’t old enough to work a real first job, so his grandfather offered him a job helping him around his shop on weekends to make a little money. It was better than Henry sleeping until noon she supposed.

“Hi Emma, looking for Henry?” Belle greeted her as she walked into the dimly lit shop. Robert and Belle (despite her being much younger than him) had been married a few years ago. Truthfully she wasn’t much older than Emma and Neal, but she made Mr. Gold happy so Neal was as on board with it as he could be. Especially after Neal’s actual mother leaving them when he was young. Emma suspected the father and son never really recovered from the shock of that.

“Hi Belle, do you ever just take a day off?” Emma joked. Between working at the police station and helping her husband in the shop she seemed to be busy constantly.

“I’ll go grab Henry he’s downstairs taking inventory.” The bright eyed brunette smiled at Emma before waltzing off to some corner of the building where her son was.

“Thanks.” She smiled. The woman was charming, she couldn’t fault Neal’s father for that.

“Hello there, Emma.” In walked Neal’s father, the unmistakable sound of a cane aiding him wherever he went. He wore a black suit and black tie as was customary. He never wore anything less to run his shop. “Neal tells me the Jones case has reopened.”

“It certainly has thrown us for a loop. Not the kind of thing we’re used to dealing with at our little Storybrooke police department.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would be.” He shifted with his cane. “Best of luck.”

Of all of the things people had said to her in the past two weeks since the case had reopened, not one of them had ever wished her luck. She wondered why the statement stuck out to her so much. It wasn’t an outright insult… though it wasn’t a compliment either.

Emma was saved from having to form a response when Belle and Henry entered the room, her son making his way over to her getting ready to leave.

“Thanks so much again for letting him hang around here.” Emma ruffled her son’s hair smiling at him.

“It’s no problem at all. Especially now since I can’t do much of the heavy lifting myself.” Mr. Gold remarked. The man was a bit odd, he always had been but he had a soft spot for Henry.

“Bye, grandpa. Bye Belle.” Henry waved as they headed out the door, Emma gave a little wave and continued to try to shake off her one on one interaction with Robert as they walked together back to their home.

That night in bed Emma settled in with a cup of tea and one of the books she had purchased at the store earlier. A collection of works by Edgar Allan Poe. She whipped through several short stories and poems as she sipped her tea, enjoying her alone time.

It was after midnight before she realized how tired she was, one more story, she told herself. The Cask of Amontillado. She had remembered reading it in middle school, a bit dark and over her head at the time. While Emma loved literature now back in the day she was not quite as open to the works of Poe and Dickinson and the like.

The story was just as dark as she remembered. A tale of revenge being extracted in the Catacombs. A chill ran down Emma’s spine as she read the tale of Montresor luring his “friend” away from the Carnival, getting him drunk, and chaining him to a wall. Only to wall up the man behind brick and mortar. It was a gruesome idea.

That night Emma dreamt of herself walking through the old Jones mansion. However instead of being in the crumbling state of disrepair it was in now, it had been restored to its former glory. The lights were on, allowing her to navigate more easily.

“Hello?” she called out. Only the sound of her own voice echoed. “Is anyone here?”

She made her way down the hall on the right side of the double staircase. Something was pulling her toward Mr. Jones’ office. She followed.

Inside it looked stately, the dark wood bookshelves lining the back wall. A high leather backed chair sitting behind the mahogany desk central to the room. Unlike her father’s office there were no pictures, there was nothing personal.

Whatever force was pulling her led her toward the wall to her left. It was paneled and she looked around as if to say “what now?”

She hit the wall and immediately a panel fell out, revealing what looked to be some sort of safe. Emma began twisting the lock trying to figure out the combination. She twisted and twisted nothing working. Her fingers grew tired and the lock dissolved in her hands. It fell into a dark abyss below as did the rest of the room.

She awoke drenched in a cold sweat. Her dream had felt almost real. Looking out the window next to her bed she could see that it was just barely light out, the early morning just beginning to fill her bedroom with natural rays of the sun. That was one of the reasons she loved her bedroom so much, you could always see the sunrise as it began to peak over the trees. A feature she wasn’t appreciating so much now. All that was on her mind was getting back to the Jones house and finding what the most recent letter had sent her to find.

“Neal. Wake up. We need to go back to the house.” Emma had chosen to call Neal first despite him being historically cranky in the mornings. She could trust him.

“Em. Are you crazy?” His morning voice came through the speaker. “It’s seven am. Have you talked to Humbert about this?”

“I’ll call Graham on the way. But I just have a….” she didn’t know what she had “I just need to search the place again, without a bunch of people from his team getting in my way.”

“All right. Give me a couple of minutes.” He grumbled, she could hear him slowly rolling out of bed. She knew he would be the best person to call first. He would be unhappy because it was the morning but most of the time he trusted Emma’s instinct more than she did.

“Okay. I’ll pick you up.” She hung up before he could argue any further.

The office of Brennan Jones had laid untouched for years. A prominent businessman of his time, there were many documents scattered about that hadn’t been tended to since his untimely death. The room looked almost the same as it had in her dream with the exception of a small detail she hadn’t noticed before. Though overall there appeared to be no personal items, one distinct object caught her eye before she even crossed the threshold. On top of the desk sat a pencil cup holder made of misshapen clay that had been haphazardly colored in red and black paint. It looked to be the work of a toddler. The kind of gifts that filled her parents’ home. Emma had given David and Mary Margaret countless handmade treasures that were still displayed on every shelf and table. This one in Brennan Jones’ office was the only one of its kind. The only remotely personal item.

Emma picked it up with her gloved hand and turned it over. Carved into the bottom of the now dried clay jar was “K.J. 1986”.

“Is that what we came here for?” Detective Graham was not thrilled as he spoke. Whether his mood was because she had called him to drag him out of bed on a Sunday morning on a ‘gut feeling’ or because she had never called him about going out for coffee, was neither here nor there.

“No. Sorry, I just…” she set the pencil holding jar back on the desk. “I need to see something.”

Her father and Neal were also there. David wasn’t excited to be out of bed and back to work on a Sunday but he was a workaholic like his daughter, so his mood changed quickly.

She made her way to the side of the room from her dream. She could not have possibly told them the reason for their coming here was a secret passage dream induced by an Edgar Allan Poe book, she would sound out of her mind. But as she looked at the paneling of the wall she realized it was entirely possible that there was something behind here. She pressed her ear to the wood and slowly slid down the wall, hitting it with her fist to listen for hollow spots. Halfway down the wall she heard a light rattle. It was ever so faint but it was coming from inside the panels. She knocked again, absolutely certain that to the other three men in the room she looked insane.

The rattling became closer and closer as she moved to the left, hitting the wood until finally she heard a pop. Emma retreated from the wall. Nothing had happened. But as she looked to her left she realized one of the panels had moved slightly out of place with the others. She grabbed a nearby letter opener on the desk and pried the piece of wood from its false placement. It proved to be a bit difficult as the panel had been unmoved for nearly twenty years. Neal came over to help her and they finally removed the piece far enough to reveal what appeared to be a locked cabinet.

“Can you still pick a lock?” she looked at her Neal with a smile, he was the one who had taught her how to pick locks back when they were teenagers. A skill that now came in handy as a cop… and a mother.

“Allow me.” He reached into his pocket for a small black pouch that contained tools for such a task.

David and Graham had now made their way over, if either of them wondered what in the fuck had just happened they had decided against saying anything. The three all watched expectantly as Neal twisted the sharp tools in the lock. After a few tense moments they heard the click and it popped open.

Emma opened the door to the cabinet and looked inside. Not much was in the hidden cabinet save for a document folded into three and shoved in an envelope in the back corner. Whatever the note from the mysterious person had wanted them to find, Emma was certain this was it. She opened the document and scanned the words.

“Em what is it?” David asked after a few seconds of silence.

“It’s the draft of Brennan’s will. It was never officiated. But it’s dated three days before they were murdered.” Emma gulped. “It names Killian and Liam as the sole heirs to the entire Jones fortune.”

Monday morning came quickly, and the whole office was in a bit of a frenzy. Research had been hard at work determining the details of the drafted will. Was it a document that had only been seen by a few? How had it gone unnoticed before? What did Brennan’s actual will on file from twenty years ago say? In addition, the note the office had received giving them the hint of where to find the very important document had been sent off to Graham’s office in Boston for further DNA testing. Emma had a feeling it would come back clean just as the first one had, but still protocol required it be analyzed.

She sat in the conference room with Graham and David on either side of her, facing Killian, Liam and Regina their lawyer, Emma was almost fully recovered from the last time she had been in this environment. It made things easier knowing she and Killian had reached some level of understanding at the bookstore on Saturday, at least one that would allow them to have a conversation.

“Miss Nolan, neither one of my clients had any idea this will even existed. It’s a draft. And it’s been hidden under lock and key.” She slammed her pen down on her legal pad. “Not even Brennan’s financial advisor had any record of it.”

“You understand how it looks though? Correct? A will is mysteriously drafted three days before Mr. and Mrs. Jones are brutally murdered, leaving everything to those two in the event of their death.” Emma always felt like the Jones’ fancy lawyer was talking down to her. She was a highly sought after attorney. It seemed as though she had come along with Killian’s office in London. Emma idly wondered how well the two actually knew each other… and then caught herself. She bit back any further comment to Regina Mills, not wanting to explode again.

“I understand but until you have further indication that that document is incriminating to Liam and Killian you have no argument here.” Regina stood to convey that she was done. “The money and the assets haven’t been touched since the death of Brennan Jones. It’s clear that if that had been the motive, we would know it.”

She wasn’t wrong. As much as it would be easy to point fingers at the brothers, not a single cent had been claimed or moved by either of them. They would need something else in order for that to hold up in court. Besides.. Emma wasn’t wholly convinced the person writing the cryptic letters was anywhere near done with them. Over an hour had gone by in this room and no progress was made for either side. Emma looked to her father who appeared tired. Between today and yesterday he hadn’t had much sleep. Killian had remained mostly quiet, letting his lawyer do most of the talking. But the few times Emma managed to make eye contact with him he looked a bit pained. She couldn’t imagine her face looked any more relaxed.

“Let us know if anything else comes up.” Liam stood next to Regina. He remained overall silent during conversations, only speaking when asked a direct question. He was kinder though than his brother and usually finished his responses with an understanding smile.

“We will. Thank you for coming in.” Graham stated as he stood, signaling to Emma and David that that was enough for today. The three of them led the way to the hallway outside the conference room. Graham and David made a point to shake everyone’s hand as they passed. Emma held back a little, still standing close to the doorway. She felt someone brush against her arm, only the briefest of touches before grabbing her hand to shake it when she realized it was Killian Jones who was now ever so slightly leaning into her while the others were distracted with their departing pleasantries. She took in an audible breath at the contact. “Wait five minutes and then follow me.” He whispered directly into her ear in a low register only she could hear, sending a tingle down her spine. And somewhere else as well.

[reincarnatedasacupcake]

art by Stellaarts

Another month has gone by and I am really enjoying this whole summer vacation thing. That being said, I can't wait to go back to school in the fall, but I will take the time to relax and read while I have it. Here's what I read this month:

Long May She Reign

by Rhiannon Thomas

422 Pages (10:30 Hours)

Freya was never meant to be queen. Twenty-third in line to the throne, she never dreamed of a life in the palace, and would much rather research in her laboratory than participate in the intrigues of the court. However, when an extravagant banquet turns deadly and the king and those closest to him are poisoned, Freya suddenly finds herself on the throne. She may have escaped the massacre, but she is far from safe. The nobles don't respect her, her councillors want to control her, and with the mystery of who killed the king still unsolved, she knows that a single mistake could cost her the kingdom-and her life. Freya is determined to survive, and that means uncovering the murderers herself. Until then, she can't trust anyone. Not her advisers. Not the king's dashing and enigmatic illegitimate son. Not even her own father, who always wanted the best for her but also wanted more power for himself. As Freya's enemies close in and her loyalties are tested, she must decide if she is ready to rule and, if so, how far she is willing to go to keep the crown.

This was a lovely book that I truly enjoyed. Only in fantasy can you find an awkward girl who loves science and has severe anxiety who becomes queen simply because she couldn't stand to be social. I love it! As soon as I finished it I went to look for the next book in the series, only to find out that it was a stand alone book! Don't see much of that these days. It's kind of nice that it can stand on it's own, although I would totally read more about this amazing woman trying to do her best to be queen and still be herself.

Soppy

by Philippa Rice

108 Pages

True love isn’t always about the big romantic gestures. 

Sometimes it’s about sympathizing with someone whose tea has gone cold or reading together and sharing a quilt. When two people move in together, it soon becomes apparent that the little things mean an awful lot. The throwaway moments in life become meaningful when you spend them in the company of someone you love. 

SOPPY is Philippa Rice’s collection of comics and illustrations based on real-life moments with her boyfriend. From grocery shopping to silly arguments and snuggling in front of the television, SOPPY captures the universal experience of sharing a life together, and celebrates the beauty of finding romance all around us.

This is a very sweet book and I see a lot of reflection of this love in my real life, which is super nice. It reminds you that love is in the little things and that we all show our love differently. I had always loved when I came across some of these comics online, so I was thrilled when I found the whole collection of them.

The Kitchen House

by Kathleen Grissom

369 Pages

When a white servant girl violates the order of plantation society, she unleashes a tragedy that exposes the worst and best in the people she has come to call her family. Orphaned while onboard ship from Ireland, seven-year-old Lavinia arrives on the steps of a tobacco plantation where she is to live and work with the slaves of the kitchen house. Under the care of Belle, the master's illegitimate daughter, Lavinia becomes deeply bonded to her adopted family, though she is set apart from them by her white skin. 

Eventually, Lavinia is accepted into the world of the big house, where the master is absent and the mistress battles opium addiction. Lavinia finds herself perilously straddling two very different worlds. When she is forced to make a choice, loyalties are brought into question, dangerous truths are laid bare, and lives are put at risk.

A masterfully written book that really hits you in the heart. This was one of my LLB for the year and I'm really glad that I finally decided to pick it up. It's one of those books that discuss race, gender and the terrible treatment of each in the past. For people that loved The Help, The Secret Life of Bees, The Invention Of Wings and other similar books that break our hearts and remind up that we need to do better.

Garnet's Story (The Lone City #1.25)

by Amy Ewing

100 Pages

In The Jewel and The White Rose, we follow Violet in her servitude under the Duchess of the Lake. Now we’ll hear the Duchess’s son, Garnet’s, story in this digital novella—a companion story to the New York Times bestselling Lone City trilogy.

Garnet, the son of the Duchess of the Lake, has always been a spoiled playboy. But now, for the first time, Garnet is beginning to realize the horrors that his family, and the ruling community, have perpetrated. And he just may be ready to do something about it.

Unlike the other short stories for this series, I actually really enjoyed this one. Yes, it is a reiteration of the other book, but is a totally different, unique story. I really enjoyed watching Garnet and the beginning of his transformation. 

Adventure Time Vol. 1 (Adventure Time Volume 1; issues 1-4)

by Ryan North, Braden Lamb & Shelli Paroline

128 Pages

It's ADVENTURE TIME! Join Finn the Human, Jake the Dog, and Princess Bubblegum for all-new adventures through The Land of Ooo.

The totally algebraic adventures of Finn and Jake have come to the comic book page! The Lich, a super-lame, SUPER-SCARY skeleton dude, has returned to the the Land of Ooo, and he’s bent on total destruction! Luckily, Finn and Jake are on the case...but can they succeed against their most destructive foe yet? Featuring fan-favorite characters Marceline the Vampire Queen, Princess Bubblegum, Lumpy Space Princess and the Ice King!

Adventure Time... come on and grab a friend... This was pretty much what you would expect from an Adventure Time comic. I think my favorite part was that they introduced a new princess; desert princess, who is a cupcake who had sand powers. Love it.

It's All Absolutely Fine

by Ruby Elliot

256 Pages

IT'S ALL ABSOLUTELY FINE is a darkly comic, honest and unapologetic illustrated account of the daily struggles with mental health. Ruby Elliot, aka Rubyetc, is the talent behind the hit tumblr account, 'Rubyetc', which has over 220k followers and growing. Taking readers on a journey through the ups and downs of life, the book will encompass everything from anxiety, bipolar disorder and body image to depression and identity, shining a light on very real problems - all framed with Ruby's trademark humour and originality.

Ruby balances mental health with humour, making serious issues accessible - and very funny. With the superb talent to capture the essence of human emotion (and to make you laugh out loud), this book is as important and necessary as it is entertaining. IT'S ALL ABSOLUTELY FINE will include mostly never-before-seen material, both written and illustrated, and will be an empowering book that will make you laugh, make you think, and make things ok.

This is another of those comics that I always loved when I saw online, but wow was this book intense. I wasn't quite expecting that. Her comics can be too real and really hit you when you aren't expecting it and her writing gives you a look into her sometimes gritty reality that she tries to deal with through her humor. That be said, the humor is great, but not something to read to cheer yourself up. I made that mistake.

666 Park Avenue (666 Park Avenue #1)

by Gabriella Pierce

320 Pages (9:28 Hours)

What if your mother-in-law turned out to be an evil, cold-blooded witch . . . literally?

Ever since fabulously wealthy Malcolm Doran walked into her life and swept her off her feet, fledgling architect Jane Boyle has been living a fairy tale. When he proposes with a stunning diamond to seal the deal, Jane can't believe her incredible luck and decides to leave her Paris-based job to make a new start with Malcolm in New York.

But when Malcolm introduces Jane to the esteemed Doran clan, one of Manhattan's most feared and revered families, Jane's fairy tale takes a darker turn. Soon everything she thought she knew about the world—and herself—is upended. Now Jane must struggle with newfound magical abilities and the threat of those who will stop at nothing to get them.

This is the other LLB for the month. Yes, I am trying to catch up, since I am already so far behind with these. I tried to read this book a few times and kept putting it back down in favour of something better. Finally I found a copy of the audiobook on the Library and decided to listen to it instead. MUCH better idea. That being said, it still wasn't a great book. There were so many red flags going on that it was hard not to grimace through most of it. I'm glad it ended like it did, but I'm not going to pick up the next book.

A Wicked Thing (A Wicked Thing #1)

by Rhiannon Thomas

337 Pages (8:42 Hours)

A spinning wheel.

A prick of a finger.

A Terrible curse.

One hundred years after falling asleep, Princess Aurora wakes up to the kiss of a handsome prince and a broken kingdom that has been dreaming of her return. All the books say that she should be living happily ever after. But as Aurora understands all too well, the truth is nothing like the fairy tale.

Her family is long dead. Her "true love" is a kind stranger. And her whole life has been planned out by political foes while she slept. Everyone expects Aurora to marry her betrothed and restore magic and peace to the kingdom before revolution tears it apart. But after a lifetime spent locked in a tower for her own safety, Aurora longs for the freedom to make her own choices. When she meets a handsome rebel, she is tempted to abandon everything for a different kind of life.

As Aurora struggles to make sense of her new world, she begins to fear that the curse has left its mark on her, a fiery and dangerous thing that might be as wicked as the witch who once ensnared her. With her wedding day drawing near, Aurora must make the ultimate decision on how to save her kingdom: marry the prince or run.

A Wicked Thing is a surprising, spellbinding reimagining of what happens after happily ever after.

I enjoyed Long May She Reign (see above) so much, I looked to see what else she had written and came across another series by her that was right up my ally. What? A retelling of Sleeping Beauty after she wakes up waaaay in the future! Yes! Gimme gimme gimme....

I inhaled this book, listening to it as often as I could and finding excuses to have it on in the background. I would've gone right into the second book (yes, this one has a second book!) had I not had a few other audiobooks waiting in my auto-checkout. But I can't wait to get back into it.  

Suffragette: The Battle for Equality

by David Roberts

128 Pages

2018 marks a century since the first women won the vote in the United Kingdom, and Suffragette tells the story of their fight. This is a tale of astounding bravery, ingenuity, and strength. 

David's conversational style is accessible and his artwork full of rich detail, bringing to life the many vivid characters of the Suffragette movement - from the militant activist Rosa May Billinghurst to the world-famous Emmeline Pankhurst. Covering the whole range of suffragette experiences - from aristocrats to the middle and working classes, as well as a look at the global struggle for universal suffrage, Suffragette is a fantastic introduction to a fascinating topic.

This book was really neat; part book and part comic. History always seems to skip over these brave and crazy women that got us the vote and it was really neat to get to know more about them. Wow, some of them were super intense with their methods and suffered awful consequences. The one thing that I was sad about was that the last couple of pages were dedicated to women of colour who had helped in their own countries, but there was almost no acknowledgement of the fact that WOC fought along side these other women and were relegated to the back of the parades and congregations. 

Temporally Out of Order

by Joshua Palmatier & Patricia Bray

294 Pages

It’s frustrating when a gadget stops working. But what if the gadget is working fine, it’s just “temporally” out of order? What would you do if you discovered your cell phone linked you to a different time? Or that your camera took pictures of the past? 

In this collection, seventeen leading science fiction authors share their take on what happens when gadgets run temporally amok. From past to future, humor to horror, there’s something for everyone. 

Join Seanan McGuire, Elektra Hammond, David B. Coe, Chuck Rothman, Faith Hunter, Edmund R. Schubert, Steve Ruskin, Sofie Bird, Laura Resnick, Amy Griswold, Laura Anne Gilman, Susan Jett, Gini Koch, Christopher Barili, Stephen Leigh, Juliet E. McKenna, and Jeremy Sim as they investigate how ordinary objects behaving temporally out of order can change our everyday lives.

I pick up this book because it had a Seanan McGuire story in it and not really realizing that it was a bunch of short stories. As all collections like this, they can be super hard to read. I'm not a huge fan of short stories and I find very few people can tell them well. There were only a few that I really enjoyed and they others ranged from okay to (when will this be over) terrible. The authors I did like I ended up looking up to see if I could find other books by them, so if nothing else, I did find more books to read.

Spell on Wheels, Vol. 1 (Spell on Wheels #1-5)

by Kate Leth, Megan Levens, Marissa Louise, Jen Bartel & Nate Piekos

136 Pages

A road trip story. A magical revenge fantasy. A sisters-over-misters tale of three witches out to get back what was taken fom them.

Andy, Jolene, and Claire aren't your average twenty-somethings. They're legacy witches making their way through a modern world. When a jealous nonmagical ex breaks into their home and steals a spell that could awaken potentials with magical powers, the witches plan their revenge. Traveling down the East Coast, they must retrieve their powerful stolen artifacts and strengthen their friendship... the big bad is even worse than they imagined.

I need more of this. Why isn't there more of this? This comic was so fun and fabulous that I couldn't put it down. I want more stories about these 3 women. I want novels about them; full series of them. Or at least more comics if you please.

Lumberjanes (Lumberjanes #3)

by Noelle Stevenson, Grace Ellis & Brooke A. Allen

27 Pages

The girls have a lot more to worry about than crazy creatures and supernatural events...they have FIELD DAY. It's a competition between the Lumberjanes and the Genteel boy camp next door that's going to be filled with surprises!

I love this gaggle of girls who are ready for crazy adventures. I really wish that these comics had been out when I was younger. It's nice to see. In this volume they come across a secret cave full of magical traps and pit falls and it will take all of them working together to make it through.

A Tangled Web (Five Hundred Kingdoms #5.5)

by Mercedes Lackey

91 Pages

Kidnapping Persephone should have been an easy task. But in the Five Hundred Kingdoms, nothing's ever simple—and the wrong blonde goddess is stolen by mistake, leaving Prince Leopold without his new bride. At least until he braves the realm of the dead to get her back...

I think I've mentioned over the last couple of years that I've been disappointing in the material that Mercedes Lackey has been putting out. But I remembered loving this series of fairy tales turned on their head and couldn't wait to read this short story about Persephone. I shouldn't gotten my hopes up. It wasn't very good. The story takes place on Olympus and in the Underworld, which was interesting, but none of the characters had any life to them. Some of the main characters are secondary characters from the book before, but I can't recall them at all. It spends half the book trying to remind you of their adventures from before (which I am still coming up blank on. 2010 was a long time ago) and doesn't really go into the story that it's in. The only flipping of the story is that these 2 other people are involved in helping and that Persephone knows who Hades actually is from the beginning. 

Henchgirl

by Kristen Gudsnuk

304 Pages

Mary Posa hates her job. She works long hours for little pay, no insurance, and worst of all, no respect. Her co-workers are jerks and her boss doesn't appreciate her. He's also a supervillain. And her parents... well, they're the most famous superhero couple in Crepe City, along with her sister. Cursed with a conscience, Mary would give anything to be something other than a Henchgirl, but no matter what she does her plans always seem to go awry.

This was a really fun comic. Sometimes it's nice to read about the bad guy or his henchpeople. This comic takes a lot of wacky twists and turns that I wasn't expecting and has a great cast of heroes and villains. I also love all the little pop culture Easter-eggs that keep popping up. This is another series that I want more of.

Fraggle Rock: Journey to the Everspring #1

by Kate Leth & Jake Myler

27 Pages

When the water supply of Fraggle Rock mysteriously runs dry, the Fraggles have to journey deep into the caves of Fraggle Rock to find the fabled Everspring where adventure awaits and no Fraggle has gone before! It's the beloved characters of Fraggle Rock in their biggest story yet!

I thought this would be another fun volume to read, but it turned out to only be the first comic. It's very cute and reminded me how much I use to love the Fraggles. I actually had to stop and think about what each of them sounded like so I could get a better sense of them in the comic I wandered around for the next few days with the theme song stuck in my head... and there it is again....

Dance your cares away. Worry's for another day. Let the music play. Down in Fraggle Rock

Antigoddess (Goddess War #1)

by Kendare Blake

333 Pages (10:28 Hours)

Old Gods never die…

Or so Athena thought. But then the feathers started sprouting beneath her skin, invading her lungs like a strange cancer, and Hermes showed up with a fever eating away his flesh. So much for living a quiet eternity in perpetual health.

Desperately seeking the cause of their slow, miserable deaths, Athena and Hermes travel the world, gathering allies and discovering enemies both new and old. Their search leads them to Cassandra—an ordinary girl who was once an extraordinary prophetess, protected and loved by a god. 

These days, Cassandra doesn’t involve herself in the business of gods—in fact, she doesn’t even know they exist. But she could be the key in a war that is only just beginning. 

Because Hera, the queen of the gods, has aligned herself with other of the ancient Olympians, who are killing off rivals in an attempt to prolong their own lives. But these anti-gods have become corrupted in their desperation to survive, horrific caricatures of their former glory. Athena will need every advantage she can get, because immortals don’t just flicker out. 

Every one of them dies in their own way. Some choke on feathers. Others become monsters. All of them rage against their last breath.

The Goddess War is about to begin.

I picked this book up because I really enjoyed Blake's Three Dark Crown series. But the 3rd one isn't out in audio form yet, si I though I would give this one a go. Like a lot of Urban Fantasy, the first book of the series didn't start out very strong. It's not that it was bad, it just seemed to be ramping up. As in setting the stage for the later books. The Olympians were interesting and I loved reading about them, but Cassandra and her posse were down right boring most of the time. Again, I realize that not much can happen until they find her and get her on their team. I will read the next book for sure, hoping that it will follow the trend of always getting better.

The Young Queens (Three Dark Crowns 0.2)

by Kendare Blake

112 Pages

Three black witches, born to a descending queen. One would rise to become queen in her place. Perhaps the strongest of the three. Perhaps the cleverest. Or perhaps it would be the girl born under the best shield of luck.

Katharine, Arsinoe and Mirabella - three young queens born to fulfil their destiny - to fight to the death to win the crown. But before they were poisoner, elemental and naturalist, they were children, sisters and friends . . .

I find it strange that there seems to be a trend of writing these novellas that fir in between other books. I mean, I get it, but I just find that most of them aren't very good and don't really fill my need of them. This was one such book. It was ripe with possibility, but the mark was totally missed. She could've written the entire thing about Arsinoe's attempted escape from the island, but she just skipped over it entirely. I don't get it. It was okay, and I liked reading about the Black Cottage and the old Queen, but the rest fell flat for me. 

Lumberjanes (Lumberjanes #4)

by Noelle Stevenson, Grace Ellis & Brooke A. Allen

27 Pages

After a lot of convincing, the girls are able to agree to get Jen to take them on a hike. Making their way up to the tower and hoping to finally get some answers, they make their way closer only to be stopped by the neighboring boy camp! April, Mal, Molly, Jo, and Ripley have to figure out how to get to the tower, even if they have to use Jen as a distraction to do it.

Another great comic! I still really love this story line. Sadly this was the last comic I had so I have to go out and get the rest so that I can find out what happens next.

The Emperor and I (The Emperor and I #1)

by Mato

147 Pages

One day something emerges from high school girl Kaho’s refrigerator—an emperor penguin, the largest of all penguins! When this emperor joins the household, fun and wacky antics with family and friends ensue!

When I was a little girl, I used to dream about one day having a pet penguin and all the fun things that we would do together. This comic made me long for those dreams again. I've got to admit, I've been looking a little longer and harder into the fridge every time I open it. Can't wait to read more.

Herding Cats (Sarah's Scribbles #3)

by Sarah Andersen

108 Pages

Adjusting to life as a world-famous cartoonist isn't easy. Terrifying deadlines, piles of junk-food wrappers under a glowing computer screen, and an ever-growing horde of pets....umm, never mind--it's pretty much the same.

With characteristic wit and charm, Sarah Andersen's third collection of comics and illustrated personal essays offers a survival guide for frantic modern life: from the importance of avoiding morning people, to Internet troll defense 101, to the not-so-life-changing futility of tidying up. But when all else fails and the world around you is collapsing, make a hot chocolate, count the days until Halloween, and snuggle up next to your furry beacon of hope.

This book wasn't long enough. I loved it so much and I want it to go on forever. This comic always finds the right spot of funny, sad and relatable that I love so much. I hope she puts out more books in the future.  

The Winter Long (October Daye #8)

by Seanan McGuire

358 Pages

For once, it seems like the Kingdom of the Mists has reached a point of, if not perfection, at least relative peace. Queen Arden Windermere is getting settled on her family's throne; no one's going to war with anyone else; it's almost like everything is going to be okay. Even October "Toby" Daye is starting to relax her constant vigilance, allowing herself to think about the future, and what it might entail.

And then Simon Torquill comes back, and everything begins to fall apart. In Faerie, nothing stays buried forever. No matter how much you might want it to.

After 8 books, I finally thought all of my questions would be answered. Turns out only some of them were. I need more answers! I guess I'll just have to keep reading. Good thing I've got the next book sitting on my shelf just waiting for me. As always, it was hard to put this book down at any time. Usually it was because my eyelids were getting too heavy and I kept reading the same paragraph over and over.

Leia, Princess of Alderaan (Journey to Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

409 Pages (9:53 Hours)

A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY....THERE WAS A PRINCESS WHO BECAME A LEGEND.

Sixteen-year-old Princess Leia Organa faces the most challenging task of her life so far: proving herself in the areas of body, mind, and heart to be formally named heir to the thrown of Alderaan. She's taking rigorous survival courses, practicing politics, and spearheading relief missions to worlds under Imperial control. But Leia has worries beyond her claim to the crown. Her parents, Breha and Bail, aren't acting like themselves lately; they are distant and preoccupied, seemingly more concerned with throwing dinner parties for their allies in the Senate than they are with their own daughter. Determined to uncover her parents' secrets, Leia starts down an increasingly dangerous path that puts her right under the watchful eye of the Empire. And when Leia discovers what her parents and their allies are planning behind closed doors, she finds herself facing what seems like an impossible choice; dedicate herself to the people of Alderaan--including the make she loves--or the galaxy at large, which is in desperate need of a rebel hero.

I wanted this to be amazing. It wasn't. It was still pretty good though. My main concern with it was that Leia didn't feel like Leia. She didn't have that cockiness and temper that makes her who she is. She felt a little more like a generic fantasy heroine in a Star Wars novel. This book is more about her "coming of age" and felt a little young at times. I loved that Amilyn Holdo (aka the kick-ass purple-haired Vice-Admiral from The Last Jedi) was a character in it and that her and Leia were friends, but at times she felt like she was just Luna Lovegood in a different skin.

Books that I am currently reading

A Fine Balance

by Rohinton Mistry

65 of 603 Pages

Ascent of Women

by Sally Armstrong

150 of 320 Pages

The Forbidden Heir (The Four Arts #2)

by M.J. Scott

 155 of 352 Pages

The Mermaid Chair

by Sue Monk Kidd

50 of 368 Pages