#the fact that he got arrested immediately after the opening scene I was like man this is always happening to you lol

[spacepunksupreme]

just finished watching From Beyond and man … Jeffery Combs Barbara Crampton Freakification: The Movie

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Tuesday all. Yay for writers strike being over. Now we just need to get the actors a good deal as and we'll get our couple back hopefully soon enough. Or have some kind of premiere on the horizon. Till then let's continue on with our rewatch. :) Getting to the crux is this whole Stanton SL. Their moments get better as we approach the climax of this whole ordeal. We don't have a ton of content but its pretty solid what we do get. Off we go.

3x05 Lockdown

We start out with our couple already in process of booking someone. Lucy is telling Tim that Stanton gave Jackson a blue page with leaving the drugs behind. She see's the guilt wash over him. She immediately stops Tim from blaming himself. Says it’s not his fault. Tim is riddled with guilt regardless and says it is. It was his fault because it was his idea to reach out to Doug's old rookie.

Then Tim sees Stanton enter the building and goes into aggressive protector mode. I’m here for it. If looks could kill oooh boy. That look in his eye is like a fight on sight clause. *fans self* Nothing love more than protective/aggro Tim. Lucy spots where his eyes are going. Quickly tries to deescalate Tim from knocking Stanton out cold immediately. Saying they don’t want to make things even worse for Jackson. Tim doesn’t hold back in the slightest when he comes up to Stanton. Asking if he wants to brush up on any arrest control techniques. Get em Tim. (Tim would've totally owned his ass if they had)

First off I love Lucy trying to ground Tim by touching him. Bringing him back to earth by saying hey we’re on duty… let's go. Doing what she does best by de-escalating him in the moment. He is ready to throw down with this putz. He doesn't care the consequences at this point. Lucy is very aware of this and is trying to head it off as quickly as possible. Doesn't want to risk Tim in the war they are waging against Stanton. She is doing her damndest to protect him from himself in this moment. Then Doug makes his next mistake... Trying to incite Tim by using Lucy and saying very inappropriate things about her.

Tim doesn’t have to step in because Lucy is gonna stand up for her damn self. Goes toe to toe with Stanton. Just like Tim does. Suddenly it's not just Tim. It's Lucy ready to take him down as well. Tells Doug he’s the one who is going to need rescuing. Whew lord This is getting good. Pass me the popcorn. Stanton is messing with the wrong couple. Separate they'll kick his ass. Together? Utter desolation. Fool of a man to try and take them on. Had no idea the hornets nest he just kicked.

Lucy telling Stanton she has a great hair pull takedown she’s been dying to try. LMAO Amazing. Don't mess someone they care about. Tim then becomes the one to ground her with his touch. Having them walk away before either of them do something they’ll regret. The fact that both of them wanna kick his ass in this moment is *chef kiss*. Best part is their natural instinct to protect one another.

Could care less about themselves but always instinctively shield the other. God I love them. Let's talk about how casual and natural they are about the touching to calm each other. Especially in front of others. My heart. Friggin love how they both wanna take Stanton down but also want to protect the other. Lucy calmed Tim down and then when Doug went after Tim through Lucy he had to be the one to calm her down. What a pair these two.

Tim can't help but give her crap about going after Stanton after she made him stand down. Lucy cracks me up with her testosterone line. How she got a contact high off of it LOL It was that and she was protecting both of the men in her life. The most important relationships to her. He threatened both in one moment and she was not going to have it. Ugh so good. Great opening scene for them hot damn. I will take this kind of content all day.

They follow up with a hilarious scene with the girl they booked. She’s asking for the bagels she stole back. The balls on this chick my god. Tim tells her they’ve been disposed of. She goes on saying how bad that is for the environment. His eye roll and his head tilting back LMFAO. I love this man so much your honor. He's in no mood to deal with this person. Lucy steps in and offers some logic to her ‘whole ethos’ Adore her stepping in and trying to run interference for Tim.

They’re both so over this girl by the end of their interaction I’m dying. They have much bigger problems today than her. She continues her obnoxious annoyance and says she doesn’t believe in money. But wants them to call her a cab. Sassy Tim arrives on the scene and he is most welcome. I’m laughing so hard at his reply. He is beyond done with this girl and her BS. Forever love how sassy he is now. Thank you Lucy haha

Lucy turns around and asks Nolan how his exam was. He says he passed but doesn’t seem psyched about it. Lucy notes this and Nolan says Grey just confirmed he’ll never make detective. Tim does this deep chuckle that does things to my insides and says ‘You mean you still thought you had a shot?’ LMFAO He’s so mean to Nolan and I love it sfm. Legit brings me joy how constantly underwhelmed he is by John.

His body language the whole scene has me rolling. Legit tickled pink Nolan with his letter of reprimand thought he still had a shot at detective LOL It’s the giant laugh that proceeds his line that kills me the most. Tim can't believe John could actually think he still had a legit shot at it after what he did. He’s such a jerk to Nolan and it makes me happy. I’m a bad person I know haha

They get pulled away by their freegan. She goes and gets herself arrested again by breaking into a car in their parking lot. John follows them out and quickly gets pulled away by a man in a van while they arrest her again. Nolan of course gets caught in a bomb threat outside the station. Leaving Tim and Lucy stuck there until the threat is neutralized. Hence the name of the ep. They're locked down till this mess is resolved.

They bring everyone in the lobby and in holding down to the parking garage. I love the chat they have about it. Lucy is voicing her concerns and anxiety for Jackson. Tim is instantly the calm presence she needs. He knows she is stressed because now they can’t be Jackson’s backup. Advises her the best he can till they are out of this current mess. The more they focus on the task at hand faster they're back out there to help him. I just can’t get over them being this united front to protect Jackson best they can. Makes my heart happy.

Once they're out of the garage Tim and Lucy do some digging on Graham their bomber. They find out he has a GF Kelsey Adams. She set up a page to fund his medical bills. Yet they haven't asked for money. Another thing is she’s going under an assumed name and they have no pictures of her. She wasn’t home when Lopez tracked her address down. All their leads aren’t going anywhere. It’s not about money or about the convict this man pretended to want release at first. So feels like they're back to square one. All they know is Kelsey must be involved in this circus. That they're close enough for her to have a hand in this with Graham. The issue is figuring why they're both doing this.

Lucy then has an epiphany and says what if it’s meant to distract them? Since this isn't about money or releasing someone. That the real reason is to pull their focus outside the station. When it should it really be focused inside. Harper then asks what kind of crazy person would be inside while her BF threatens that same building with explosives? I love this beautiful look between them. Their silent communication at its finest right here. All she has to do is look at Tim and they have the same thought. Their Freegan who got herself arrested twice in one hour is crazy enough.

They go to confront Freegan Freida and I love their dynamic. How confident they are and the back and forth they display. Trying to get her to break. Tag teaming it. Explaining how they caught her and her reasons why. Until they realize she’s not Kelsey Adams…. It was real good till then guys haha The real Kelsey takes off and breaks the keypad trapping them down there.

Harper is able to catch Kelsey in the evidence room and figure out why she’s there. They’re trying to get her fingerprints before they’re scanned into the system. Her ex-husband was abusive and has cops on his payroll. Why she was under an assumed name. Harper also finds out the bomb is a fake. Only needed them to think it was real to buy time. Also get him arrested so his medical care could be paid for in prison. With this mess resolved Tim and Lucy are finally able to return to their shift.

Lucy tells Tim about a text she receives from Jackson. Saying everything came to a head with Doug. That Jackson pulled his dad running IA card. That Jackson thinks he'll back off now. Hearing this sets Tim on edge. He wants to go find Jackson ASAP. He’s worried about what Doug is going to do since Jackson pulled his dad card. Say's he's not the type of guy you can back into corner and not react. Tim is afraid of what he’s going to do now that he is. Has them leave the station immediately to find him.

Tim and Lucy hear a call come over the radio. It’s the exact situation Tim was worried about. He’s having him and Jackson go into an area where they should have serious backup. Doing a ‘premise check’ solo. Doug is up to something and it’s not good. Sounds like he’s leading Jackson into the lions den. Which is exactly what happens. They split up and Jackson gets jumped. He is overwhelmed by 4 guys. Makes a call over the radio and Stanton says he’s coming to help then leaves him there be beaten to death.

Tim and Lucy show up on scene and run into Stanton and he “claims” to have lost Jackson. They quickly find Jackson and rush over to him. Tim calling in ambulance and RA. Beautiful thing about this moment is Jackson grabbing for his body cam. The cam footage that ends up condemning Stanton.

Watching Tim march over with Grey to suspend him. Phew lord Tim telling him 'Give me a reason'. Yum. Stanton gets the ending he so richly deserved. That ends quite an intense episode. Loved the United Front that is them in this episode. The way he fiercely protects Jackson the entire episode while keeping Lucy calm. So damn good. Not a ton like I said but enough goodies to enjoy especially the beginning.

~~~~~

Side notes none really this episode was truly intertwined. Glad to see Stanton finally get what’s coming to him. Awful that took Jackson nearly dying to get it done but glad he was finally removed.

As always thank you to everyone who supports these reviews. Been so fun for me to Analyze and share with you all. All the likes/comments and reblogs mean a lot ❤️ see you all in 3x06

[colorcodedbeanies]

S1E6-"Crazy Handful of Nothin'"

Everytime I see Tuco I wind up wondering about how his abuelita's doing I hope he still visits. Pictured below: a man with absolutely nothing to hide why do you ask Hank.

TW: Racism, drug use, Nazi mention

The episode opens with Walt laying down a few boundaries about life going forward. Two things stand out: one, he wants nothing to do with their customer base. Walt will happily profit off addicts but he won't be in the same room with more than he absolutely has to be. Two, no more violence. There's a dramatic irony, of course, with the scene cutting forward in time to show Walt walking away from a bombed out building. But even within the moment, there's something hysterical about Walter White, who's at this point killed two people, saying this to Jesse Pinkman, who hasn't killed anyone at all. Its a subtle way of offsetting the blame without stating it out loud. Any violence must come from Jesse's end even if Walt participated. After all, Walt's the "silent partner".

Another episode demonstrating Walt's dislike of being seen as sick. In addition to shooing Skyler out of the room during his chemotherapy as quickly as he can, he reacts with discomfort and resentment in any space that's structured to provide him with a repeat performance. Within this episode, he's only truly vulnerable with two people. Jesse, who Walt at least gets to serve as an authority figure to since the work depends on his talents. And Hugo, the school janitor who provides immediate and quiet support during a few incredibly low moment for Walt. These moments are undoubtedly important. In the midst of all his physical suffering there's a catharsis in Walt getting some actual relief, whether that's a stick of gum after he vomits or advice about using an ice pack to alleviate hairloss. However, to me what stands out is that these are both people who Walt retains a degree of social privilege over. He doesn't have to worry about ceding power to them, because both don't have a chance of doing what he does (as opposed to someone like Hank, who Walt fears will step into his role as the provider for the White family).

Speaking of, poor Hugo. He's underdiscussed as the first real innocent who has their life ruined by Walt's crimes. During his limited screentime Hugo is presented as nothing but selfless and kind, helping Walt not only deal with his sickness but also protect a little of his dignity. Inadvertently, Walt repays him by getting him arrested. After weed is found in Hugo's car, that's it. He's arrested in front of the school, loses his job, and is sent straight to county prison for a few months. Whatever life he's built for himself since his last run-in with the law is now taken away. And while they quickly realize he didn't steal the glassware, pretty much every adult involved in the situation seems to think he got what he had coming. Skyler tisks during family poker night, wondering how the school let someone with such a record work on campus. "I mean, that's pretty scary right?" Walt, seemingly riddled with guilt, does meekly suggest Hugo never struck him as a thief, but makes no effort to deny having weed around the house doesn't merit all this loss. Every adult in that room has partaken in weed, and in fact believe one of them to be a frequent user. But the brown (the actor is Lakota. I'm unsure what tribe Hugo is) janitor, as a "major pothead", will "lose his job, as he should". Walt's conscience is pricked by this, but he never makes any attempt to make amends. No anonymous donations, no vouching for Hugo in front of the school board. Hell, next episode he is going to get EXTREMELY horned up at the meeting discussing his termination, so. Gives you a pretty good picture how much Walt's guilt is worth.

Walt may posit himself as a silent partner but he sure gets opinionated about Jesse's half of the business. The "speak to the manager" impulse reignites, with him barking "This is unacceptable. I am breaking the law here. This return is too little for the risk". 2600 a night (1300 for Walt. Minus 25 for a burner phone) doesn't match Walt's suburban visions of a highrolling kingpin sitting on his millions in cash. He doesn't seem to grasp how much caution and risk is involved for both his seller and his buyers, how everyone else has to make their own cost-benefit analysis. He describes it as a motivation issue, and seems to expect Jesse to be able to bootstrap his way into the goddamn cartel. He doesn't listen, and overrides his concerns by snapping at Jesse to grow some fucking balls already (bold words for a guy in the RV).

This brings us to Tuco (loud uproarious cheering).

Tuco's notable as our first major nonwhite character who's not locked in a basement almost immediately (as in, multiple speaking lines and present throughout multiple episodes/seasons). And for as much as I think the writing around him evolves into something genuinely emotionally compelling, especially in Better Call Saul....its worth noting how much of a racialized nightmare this character is. Tuco is characterized as violent, demanding, unpredictable, and having a taste for excessive luxury (as demonstrated by his diamond grilles). This only grows worse when he uses, which turns him into a screaming, frenetic whirlwind of bloodshed. In contrast to Domingo, Tuco is pretty much exactly what the audience expects out of a cartel kingpin. He's uncontrolled chaos, and even in the late game of BrBa still one of the largest threats Walt's ever faced. The kind of fear he inspires in the white protagonist is only going to get more heavily coded as time goes on. For now, suffice to say that in some sense Tuco acts as Walt's liberator. In the face of such uncontrollable violence, he's able to internally justify much worse violence than he executed towards Krazy-8 and Emilio. Against Domingo he squirms and agonizes over even holding a gun. Against Tuco, Walt tosses explosives.

(Speaking of. What was his plan if Tuco just snorted the mercury before realizing what it was because that seems like it could've gone south in a hurry)

This is the first time Walt uses the name Heisenberg. As I understand it, this wasn't necessarily meant to be his Great Big Pseudonym at the time, but was something the writer's returned to later on. Fortunately, for the purposes of analysis there are no accidents. I think its pretty well known by now that Werner Heisenberg was a Nazi. Specifically, he was a German physicist employed by the Nazi party to develop an atomic bomb for Germany as part of the war effort. Accounts seem to conflict a bit regarding Werner's personal politics. Some historians cast him as a decent man doing his best under a tyrannical system to protect his non-Aryan students. Others find that he was a terminal centrist willfully deluding himself about the endgames of the Nazi regime. Regardless of the actuality I think its a weirdly fitting name for Walt. A guy who may, or may not, be a Nazi himself, but sure is put into positions that make him willing to work for them and devise weapons on their behalf

Not an analysis point. How does every Salamanca have this much homoerotic tension with other men while being this notoriously homophobic.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Pizza Comes Third

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: E (smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Nipple clamps. Yeah, I said it. Lots of nipple play, obvs. Overstimulation, PIV sex (unprotected), implied oral sex, bad puns and good aftercare.

Summary: You’ve harbored a crush on your partner in the FBI Art Crimes Department for ages. When he accidentally knocks over your purse and a recent sex toy purchase falls out, how will he react? And how does acclaimed boy-scout Agent Marcus Pike know anything about nipple clamps?

A/N: PLEASE don’t come for me about my utter lack of knowledge about how arrests work. You’d think I’d’ve watched enough SVU that I could put together a convincing scene where they arrest someone, but I wanted to stop talking about crimes and get to the smut so it’s rather vague.

Masterlist

"Hey, got a package for you."

You fight down the first, immature thought that comes to mind when your partner at the Art Crimes department of the FBI drops the small envelope on your desk.

The problem is that Agent Marcus Pike is just too damn attractive for his own good. And when he walks up to your desk saying things like "got a package for you," you can't help that your mind goes immediately into the gutter.

From the moment he had glanced up at you from his desk on your first day on the job when you met him, you had a crush. How could you not? You could spend all day staring at that chiseled jawline and strong nose, at those dark eyes, and beautiful plush lips.

And, because Marcus’s desk is right next to yours, you have. You basically have his profile memorized. If you had any skill at art (your profession of recovering stolen paintings did not translate into any artistic talent of your own), you could draw him from memory, down to each artfully-mussed lock of hair on his stupid head.

You lost track of how many times you had to remind yourself that Marcus was not only a colleague, but your partner. Any associations outside of your professional relationship would be disastrous if the relationship ever soured for any reason. So. As much as you want to ask the man out on a date, you can only admire him from afar and keep your musings about his 'package' to yourself.

"Thanks," you reply, grabbing the item and sticking it in your bottom drawer.

"Why do you get so much mail delivered here?" Marcus asks as he walks to his own desk.

"Got tired of my shit being stolen," you tell him. "After the third package went missing, I changed my delivery address to the office."

"I should do that," Marcus says with a laugh. "I had something stolen last week. The joke's on them, though. I hope they enjoyed the uh, the dandruff shampoo I ordered." He looks down at his feet with a bashful little chuckle that you find frustratingly endearing.

Huh, you think. At least there's one thing about Marcus fucking Pike that isn't just one hundred percent perfect.

"I'm heading to Thai Commons to grab some lunch," Marcus says. "Want anything?"

You shake your head. "No thanks."

"You sure? Not even an order of spring rolls? I know you like them better than the ones from 'Thai and Stop Me.'"

"I'm good."

The fact that Marcus knew not only your order, but your opinion on which spot had the best spring rolls, made you burn.

You watch Marcus leave. Maybe you could switch to another department. Is thirty-seven too late for a career change?

You shake the thought from your mind. Don't be stupid. This is your dream job. It just happens to come with a dream guy who’s depressingly off-limits.

You suddenly remember the package in your bottom drawer and a little frisson of excitement courses through you. You look around you–yep, empty office. Everyone else is getting lunch or out doing fieldwork.

It wouldn't hurt to open the envelope and at least see them, right?

You retrieve the package from your bottom drawer. You'd always wanted to try these. And now, newly single and having a little bit of a self-discovery phase, you had ordered some one night after too many glasses of wine.

You rip open the envelope and look at the little box. Nipple clamps. They are bigger than you had expected—both the clamps themselves and the chain connecting them.

You have a sudden urge to hold them in your hand.

The thing is, you are a tactile person. Always have been. It was one of those things you never really grew out of as a kid. In a store, you have to touch the blankets to see how soft they are. Or on a walk, you have to poke the pretty leaf, or feel the smooth pebble. You have to touch the hot plate that the server just told you was hot.

It’s like a compulsion, sometimes

Or, today, you have to open the packaging and take out the nipple clamps you just purchased to feel the weight of them in your palm.

They are heavier than you had expected, the chain thicker. You feel a thrill run down your spine and a little bit of wetness spread in your underwear. Oh, these are going to be fun, later. You stuff the packaging and clamps into your purse to take home. The act makes you giggle a little. You’re at work and you have nipple clamps in your purse.

Just then, your phone rings. You set your purse down on the edge of your desk absentmindedly and take the call. It ends up being an anonymous tip regarding the case you and Marcus have been working on, and you spend quite a while talking to the informant and gathering information. It’s a lot of great information–leads that you and Marcus did not yet have. It might mean a breakthrough on a case that had been at a standstill for weeks.

Marcus comes back in just as you are finishing the call, carrying a plastic takeout bag with a smiley-face on the front.

"I got an order of rolls to share," he said with a little wink. You smile. He knows you would have stolen half of his, anyway.

He places a little box on your desk before walking to his own, but his elbow bumps into your purse–still perched precariously on the edge of your desk, forgotten after that phone call. The purse comes crashing to the floor, landing upside down and spilling the contents all over the floor.

You watch in what feels like slow motion as the clamps you had stuffed into the side pocket skitter across the floor and slide to a halt almost directly at Marcus’s feet.

You both stare at them.

Marcus is a sweet, upright kind of guy, you tell yourself. He has no idea what those are. Right?

Except he’s picking them up and the second you meet his eyes, you know that he knows exactly what they are. There’s a knowing glint in his irises, a slight narrowing of his lids that seems to say, ‘Why are these in your purse?’ Had you not been absolutely mortified at the moment, his apparent recognition would have surprised you.

You happened to be correct about one thing, though: Marcus is a sweet, upright kind of guy. The kind of guy who doesn’t react when someone’s newly-purchased nipple clamps fall out of their purse at work and land right at his feet even when he knows damn well what they are. He’s the kind of guy who schools his face into a neutral, friendly expression, says “Here you go,” hands them to you, then bends over and helps pick up the rest of your belongings, all the while apologizing for knocking over your purse in the first place.

You could almost pretend that you didn’t see that wave of confused surprise wash over Marcus’s face as he picked them up.

Almost.

You hastily shove the entire purse into your bottom drawer, your cheeks burning.

Marcus returns to his desk and opens his container–Pad See Ew, his favorite–but spends some time poking at it with a far-off look on his face before any of the noodles actually make it to his mouth.

Shit. You just made things so awkward between you.

“Oh!” you say suddenly and far too loudly, making Marcus jump slightly. “Guess what that phone call was!”

“Mmmph?” he says, his mouth still full of noodles.

“Anonymous tip for the DeBrunner case. They had a lot of new information.”

Marcus swallows quickly.

“Holy shit, really?” he asks, his eyes alight with excitement. “Anything we can follow up on?”

“There’s a few names here that we didn’t have. If they turn up any hits, we could be out following them down as early as this afternoon,” you reply.

“Atta girl,” Marcus exclaims emphatically with a cute little fist pump. You try to ignore how that makes you feel.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“What time is it?”

“About five minutes later than the last time you asked.”

“I already forgot.”

“It’s eight thirty-four.”

“Ugh!” You dramatically throw your head back against the headrest. The two of you had been sitting in the squad car for hours already, waiting for your suspect. “I didn’t know this was going to turn into a stakeout.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I got you those spring rolls earlier, huh?” Marcus said with a wry grin.

“Yeah, well, this wasn’t really part of my evening plans,” you mutter.

Marcus’s head snaps up, and you cringe inwardly. You had forgotten about… well, about your very own personal ‘nipplegate.’

“Got a hot date or something?” he asks nonchalantly.

“No.”

“Riiiiiiight.”

The two of you are silent for a while, watching the street, waiting for your suspect.

“So…” Marcus starts, “just a… relaxing night in, then?”

You gulp. “Yeah.”

More silence. You want to disappear into the leather upholstery of the black squad car.

You both speak again at the same time.

“Listen, can I–”

“Can we please just fucking forget about what happened today? Yeah, you know what? I’m a single woman in my thirties. Yeah, I ordered something ‘fun’ for myself. Yeah, I had it sent to work because people keep stealing shit off my doorstep. And yeah, it fell out of my purse. Can we please be professional about it and just fucking forget it?” you snap angrily.

Marcus holds up his hands. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t– okay.” He sighs, and looks out of his window.

More silence.

“No, you know what?” Marcus says suddenly, “I wanna say something. I figure this evening is going to be awkward as fuck no matter what say even if I start talking about the Nationals game last night–”

“Please don’t,” you interrupt with a groan.

“Just stop,” Marcus continues. “So if it’s going to be awkward anyway, I may as well say what’s on my mind, right?” He looks over at you expectantly.

“Sure,” you offer weakly.

“I can’t fucking stop thinking about it,” Marcus confesses in a hoarse voice. “I can’t get the image out of my head.”

Your heart immediately starts rattling out of its cage. “You… you can’t–?”

“I think about you all the time,” Marcus admits quietly. “I know I shouldn’t. I’ve wanted to ask you out so many times but you’re my partner and–” he trails off. “But now I–I know this thing about you that I shouldn’t know, and I keep fucking picturing you wearing them and I wanna…” he slaps his palm to his forehead in exasperation. “Jesus. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

You sit in stunned silence for a few moments, barely daring to breathe. Finally, you gather the courage to ask, “You wanna… what? How does that sentence end?”

Marcus closes his eyes in defeat. “Please don’t ask me that,” he says, shaking his head and grimacing.

“Marcus, please,” you say, your voice small and pleading.

His eyes snap to yours.

“I want to put them on you myself,” Marcus begins quietly. “I want to see your eyes as I do it, wanna see your face, your goddamn gorgeous face as they tighten. I want to hear the sounds you make and I want to hear you begging for me to touch you.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I want to watch that little chain bounce as you move on me. Fuck, baby,” he groans. “That sentence can end so many ways. There’s no shortage of things I want to do to you.”

You breathe–a sharp, shaky inhale, your eyes not leaving Marcus’s.

“I… I want that too,” you say breathlessly. “C-can we–can we do that? I–would you–”

“Fuck, look. Over there,” Marcus is saying suddenly, his eyes snapping back to the sidewalk. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

The change in tone has you reeling, your entire body working to catch back up to reality–back to what you were supposed to be doing. You take a few heaving breaths, force your heart to stop hammering, as you scan the street.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agree, your voice still slightly breathy with desire, but your mind is–however sluggishly–devoted to the task at hand.

“Time to go,” Marcus says, but you’re already opening your door.

“Mister Ottenweller,” you call out brightly as you and Marcus step onto the sidewalk. “Could we have a word?”

Mr. Ottenweller bolts.

Marcus spits a curse as you start to chase the suspect. The man ducks into an alleyway and you follow at his heels, but he’s moving too fast for you to attempt to catch him. You keep on his tail, not letting him out of your sight, as he turns another corner and runs straight into Marcus.

“Oh hey again!” Marcus says cheerfully as he forces the suspect against the brick façade of a building. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You got nothin’ on me!” the man snarls. “I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Right, and that’s why you’re running from the police?” Marcus quips. “Because of all that nothing you’re doing?”

“Then you won’t mind answering a few questions for us about your association with James DeBrunner,” you add. “We hear you’ve been moving a lot more than just stolen vehicle parts lately.”

“I didn’t take any of the paintings!” Ottenweller yelled.

Marcus’s grin was predatory. “What paintings?”

“FUCK!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You and Marcus stagger out of FBI headquarters several hours later–exhausted, but in high spirits–with a confession in hand and another art thief behind bars.

“It’s nice when they make it so easy,” Marcus laughs.

“What paintings?” you parrot Marcus’s question from earlier and dissolve into your own giggles.

You stare at each other for a few beats. The tension that had been cut by the appearance of the world’s dumbest art thief returned in an instant.

“Dinner?” you suggest, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled in between you.

You watch as Marcus’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. He has those two little lines on the bridge of his nose that tend to appear when he’s considering something. Your skin flushes under his scrutiny.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, in the car?” he finally asks. “When you said you wanted it, too?”

Oh, shit.

Marcus is direct. It’s one of the things you like about him as a partner, but in this context, it makes your heart hammer in your chest and fills your stomach with butterflies. It can be refreshing, to have someone you know is always frank with you; but at the same time, his candor can be intimidating. Marcus never beats around the bush; he says what he means, says what’s in his heart no matter the consequences. You know it’s given him trouble in past relationships. It’s a double-edged sword–on the one hand, his direct nature makes it clear where he stands. On the other hand, the openness leaves him vulnerable to heartbreak.

Marcus is still looking at you with an uneasy expression.

“Yes,” you whisper. “To everything. I’ve wanted to ask you out as well, and–and… I want, um, the other stuff that you said, too.” (You have a much harder time being direct.)

A slow smile spreads across his face. He raises his eyebrows. “You mean the stuff about the–” he nods his head at your purse, where, yes, those stupid clamps were still tucked away.

You nod.

Marcus steps deliberately into your personal space and you suddenly have a hard time catching your breath.

“It’s late,” he says quietly. “Instead of dinner, how about you come over to my place? I can throw a pizza in the oven and we can–” he exhales shakily.

“We can… what?” you ask breathlessly.

Marcus lowers his face to yours. “We can find out exactly what it’s like for you to ride my cock with those little clamps on, baby,” he says darkly.

Your cunt bottoms out. Marcus’s face is just inches from yours as he husks out this sentence, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it before.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” he parrots, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Take me home, Marcus.”

You step inside Marcus’s apartment for the first time what seems like mere moments later. The car ride had passed in a flash–the awkward silence had returned, but Marcus’s hand came to rest on your upper thigh as he drove, the casual touch leaving no doubt as to what was going to happen tonight.

It seems that Marcus is tired of waiting. The instant the door closes, he is on you, pushing you up against the wall and slanting his lips over yours. His hands roam–grabbing your backside and drawing your hips into his, moving up to cage your face as he deepens the kiss with a moan, and gently cupping the side of your breast, letting his thumb ghost over your nipple like a promise. You whimper into the kiss.

"Any objections to having the pizza after rather than before?" Marcus asks, coming up for air.

"Yeah, pizza comes second," you agree, and you finally give in to the urge to run your fingers through his hair and muss it further.

"Pizza comes third," Marcus corrects with a little wink. "Or maybe fourth, or fifth, or–"

You use your grip on his locks to pull him in for another kiss to shut him up. He's still smiling into the kiss, tickled by his own goofy joke. You love how the change in the shape of his mouth leads to an entirely different kiss–this one is playful, tender. Marcus nips at your bottom lip and chuckles when you moan softly.

"C'mere," Marcus says, still smiling, as he grabs your hands and walks backwards, stopping every few steps to steal more kisses. Eventually you're in his living room, and when Marcus’s calves hit the couch cushions, you playfully shove him down onto it and climb onto his lap.

The angle, when you kiss him again, is different, and you both groan at the new sensations the position brings. You're above him now, and you take the lead–pouring all the longing you've ever felt for him into the kiss. Marcus, in turn, grabs your hips and pulls you down on him, letting you feel his cock straining against his pants as he meets your mouth over and over and over again.

You suddenly want to feel more of him, want to skim your hands down the planes of his broad chest or scrape your nails gently down his back. You start hastily undoing the buttons to his dress shirt and Marcus moans loudly when he realizes what you’re doing. When you get to the waistband of his pants, he untucks it and pushes it off his shoulders before shedding the plain white t-shirt he wore underneath.

As Marcus’s hands come to the buttons of your blouse, you take the opportunity to study him and let your hands roam across his warm, soft skin. Your fingertips map out the little constellations of freckles you can see, and you smile when he jerks slightly as you hit a ticklish spot beneath his ribs.

Marcus gently slides your shirt off of your shoulders, letting his hands feel as much of your skin as they possibly can as he does so. The urgency of the moment has abated, somewhat–the two of you have slowed, distracted by the newly revealed skin. The frantic kisses from before have turned tender and soft as you both savor each other.

Marcus’s hands slide to your back as he starts pressing his lips to your collarbone, mouthing against the skin, occasionally darting his tongue out to taste. Before you can register what he’s doing, the clasp on your bra is undone and Marcus’s hands are coming around your sides to hold the garment in place for a moment.

“Is this still okay?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word automatically shaping your lips into a smile as you gaze down at Marcus.

He lets your bra fall then, drawing the straps down your arms and casting it aside on the couch, never removing his eyes from your chest. Marcus’s tongue darts out to wet his lips unconsciously.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathes quietly. He traces his fingertip down the underside of one breast reverently before cupping them in his hands. Your eyes flutter shut as your head falls back and you automatically push your chest further into his hands, seeking more. More… everything.

“Let’s get the rest of these clothes off, hmm?” Marcus murmurs, moving to unbutton his own pants. You do the same, and you stand briefly to push them past your ankles to kick them off. Marcus takes the opportunity to raise his hips and push his down too, and your breath catches at the sight of his nude form before you.

You’re both completely bare to each other for the first time–Marcus on the couch gazing up at you with wonderment and you, standing above him, breath shaky with anticipation. This is really happening.

You move to straddle Marcus’s lap again, but he stops you gently, and with a little grin, reaches for your purse. Oh. It’s funny, you had forgotten the catalyst that led you to this moment in the first place, but apparently Marcus hadn’t. He retrieves the nipple clamps with a thoughtful expression, testing the weight of them in his palm just as you had done earlier that day.

“Heavier than I would have expected,” Marcus remarks quietly.

You giggle breathlessly. “That’s what I thought, too.”

You watch as he fiddles with the mechanism that tightens the clamps.

“I wouldn’t think Agent Marcus Pike would know anything about nipple clamps,” you tease him gently.

Marcus’s dark eyes snap up to meet yours. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says.

“I just wouldn’t have taken you for a ‘nipple clamps’ kind of guy.”

“I would have said the same thing about you until today,” Marcus counters with a wry grin. “I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you, as well.”

With that, he beckons you back onto his lap, and you obey. He’s still holding the clamps in his hand, and he lets the cool metal of the chain drape over your chest, slowly moving his hand down until it touches your nipple.

You gasp softly at the sensation.

“Yeah,” Marcus continues softly. “You walk around in those austere suits of yours, never a hair out of place, always in control of every situation, but look at you now,” he remarks, letting the chain sway back and forth against the sensitive bud. “You’re filthy, aren’t you?” he asks. “You want me to put these on and tease you with them while I fuck you, don’t you?”

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you whimper.

Marcus smiles. “Thought so,” he teases. Then his gaze turns meditative as he places the first clamp around your nipple. You’re already panting in anticipation, whining softly, and Marcus shushes you gently as he slowly, achingly slowly, starts to tighten it.

“I need you to tell me when it’s tight enough,” he says, keeping his eyes on you for any sign of discomfort.

You wait until you feel it pinch slightly–pleasure shooting up and down your spine at the delicious pressure.

“T-there,” you gasp.

“Good,” Marcus praises you.

He slowly lets the chain drop down and you keen softly as you feel the weight of it pulling slightly. Marcus repeats the action on the other side, slowly tightening the clamp around your sensitive bud until you say ‘when.’

He holds your gaze as he lets go of the chain and lets it hang. You whimper pitifully as he watches–just watches–his cock achingly hard against his stomach as he just fucking looks at you with unmasked desire in his eyes.

“I wanna put my mouth on them,” he murmurs. “Can I?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod, and then you nearly sob as your nipple is engulfed by Marcus’s mouth. Fuck, they’re sensitive like this. You can feel his tongue flicking against it, making the clamp wiggle back and forth a little before switching to the other one, and you swear you can feel it deep inside your cunt and suddenly you feel empty.

“Marcus,” you plead. “I need–inside, I–fuck!”

“Okay,” he soothes, “okay.” You watch as Marcus licks his palm–which has no right to look as sexy as it does–and spreads the wetness on his cock.

You’re already dripping, so you raise up slightly and start to slowly sink down on him. The stretch of him is delicious. Perhaps you should have had him prepare you with a few fingers first, but right now the overwhelming burn is exactly what you need.

Marcus hisses with pleasure as you take him. “Shit, you’re tight, baby. Oh, fuck, you feel so good.”

You both moan when he’s finally seated completely inside you. You take a moment to breathe, to adjust to his size, but Marcus gently pushes on one hypersensitive nipple with his thumb and says playfully, “C’mon, baby.”

You cry out as a wave of pleasure shoots down your spine, and you instinctively start rocking your hips, grinding yourself on Marcus’s cock. The chain connecting the clamps starts to sway with your movement and your pussy seems to throb with the same rhythm. You realize quickly that you can’t go as hard as you’d normally go–the chain bouncing does not feel nearly as good as the gentle sway as you rock back and forth on him. You can feel your orgasm slowly building at the base of your spine, but it isn’t nearly enough, not with how restricted your movements are with the clamps.

Marcus seems to realize this too–he can’t thrust his hips up to meet yours without making you hiss with overstimulation as the chain jerks around. You need it harder–you both do.

“Lean over the back of the couch, baby,” he directs.

Marcus positions you on your knees, with your chest resting against the plush back of the couch–the clamps drag against the soft fabric, creating delicious friction, but the chain is no longer bouncing back and forth as he slides slowly back into you. His arms come to frame yours, hands gripping the back of the couch as he starts fucking you from behind.

“Hmm, that better?” Marcus hums, nipping at your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Good,” he says, and you can feel the smile against your skin. “Last thing I want is for it to hurt.”

“F-feels good, now,” you confirm, and it does. Each thrust of Marcus’s hips rocks you gently into the couch, putting exactly the right amount of pressure on your chest from the clamps.

“Fuck, you have no idea how many times I’ve pictured this,” Marcus admits from behind you. “How many times I’ve pictured this exact view.” He grabs a large handful of your ass and grips hard, jiggling it back and forth a little. “Your perfect ass bouncing just like this as I fuck you,” he says, and you can tell his jaw is clenched by the way he bites the words out at the end.

“Harder,” you mumble into the couch. “Please.”

“She wants more, hmm?” Marcus growls playfully, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto him as he starts snapping his hips into you with more force. “You are a filthy little thing,” he teases under his breath. He reaches around you to rub little circles over your clit.

You moan loudly into the couch as you feel your orgasm build.

"That's it, baby, let me hear how good it feels," Marcus is saying behind you. "You're gonna make my neighbors look at me funny tomorrow."

You laugh breathlessly. In all your wildest fantasies, you never thought Marcus would be like this. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but the reality is that Marcus is sweet, dirty, playful, funny, and fucking skilled.

It’s not like sex for you before was always a serious affair, but something about Marcus’s energy makes this night the most fun you’ve ever had being fucked. You’re having a blast. You don’t think you’ve ever smiled this much during sex.

And then, if that isn’t enough, Marcus is currently hitting exactly the right spot inside you–snapping his hips into you with the perfect amount of roughness, still rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure. And then, as you feel yourself spiraling higher, Marcus finds the chain to the clamps and gently tugs on it.

The unexpected hint of pain sends you over the edge, and you all-but-scream into the couch cushions as Marcus fucks you through your orgasm. The oversensitivity has you sobbing out his name over and over as he increases the speed and intensity of his thrusts, nearing his own end.

“Oh shit, I’m not wearing a–hey, you gotta tell me where, I–” he stammers, trying to get your attention as you cry out for him.

“‘m on birth control, it’s fine,” you say hastily, your voice wavering. “Don’t you dare stop.”

You hear Marcus chuckling behind you and then suddenly he’s coming, slamming his hips into yours one more time with a satisfied groan, bracing himself on the back of the couch as he slumps over you. He stays inside you for a few moments, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder as he catches his breath and comes down from the high.

Eventually he pulls out, and you turn around and sink onto the couch with a sated sigh. Now that the moment is over, you realize that your nipples are starting to ache.

Marcus seems to be on the same page, because he kneels in front of you and says softly, “We need to take these off,” as he reaches to undo them.

The sudden flow of blood back into such a sensitive area all at once leaves you gasping.

Marcus grimaces. “Is it bad?”

"Hurts a bit," you hiss.

"Oh, baby I'm sorry," Marcus says with an apologetic look. "Hang on." He pops up off the couch and fixes you with a firm stare that is quickly betrayed by the fond quirk of his lips. "Don't. Move."

You giggle. "Wouldn't dream of it."

You bask in the afterglow, sprawled on Marcus’s couch, legs akimbo and unconcerned with your nudity. Part of you still can’t believe this is happening, that you really are in Marcus’s apartment, blissed out after having sex with the man you’ve fantasized about for months. If your nipples weren’t throbbing right now, you could have convinced yourself that this was an overly detailed dream.

Speaking of dreams, Marcus walks back into the room holding a glass of water, a damp cloth, and what looks like a balled-up towel in his other hand. He hands you the water and you take a few sips as he swipes the cloth through your folds, gently cleaning you. You hum happily. Of course Marcus would be this fucking attentive after sex. Of course.

“What’s the other thing?” you ask him curiously.

“Oh–this has a couple of ice cubes folded into it,” Marcus says, holding up the towel. “So it won’t be too cold. Can I–?” he gestures toward your chest.

“Oh,” you say, understanding. “You don’t have to–I can do it, here.” You open your palm, expecting Marcus to hand it to you.

Marcus looks affronted. “Excuse me, I pride myself on my excellent aftercare. I’m offended that you’d think I’d ever make you hold your own makeshift ice-pack. Now,” he says, pouting his lips slightly and fixing you with a devastating puppy-dog stare, “can I?”

Your face broke out into a grin and you nodded. “Aftercare, huh? I guess there is a lot I don’t know about you.” You hissed as he delicately touched the towel-wrapped ice to one aching nipple. “You don’t have a secret sex dungeon, do you?” you joked.

“I plead the fifth,” Marcus said with a smile. “But you should definitely not pull on the copy of Great Expectations on my bookshelf that definitely is not a lever to a secret passageway behind it.”

You glance at his bookshelf. “Marcus, your bookshelf is on an outside wall.”

Marcus presses a hand to his chest in mock-offense. “Such insolence,” he tuts. “Is this helping?” he asks, dropping the goofy bit and looking at the ice pack again.

“It is, actually,” you say, letting your head drop back to rest on the couch, enjoying the relief of the cool ice combined with the gentle touch of Marcus’s hands on you.

Marcus’s hands on you. The situation suddenly hits you like a ton of bricks. You want more of this. You want it again, and again, and again. It’s not like it’s unheard of for partners to fall for each other–there are tons of little FBI love stories that you’ve heard over the years. Before you moved to D.C., the field office where you had worked had its own example–two men who, when they became partners at work, came to the realization well into their forties that they were not straight, and, more importantly, had found their soulmate in one another.

You risk a glance at Marcus, who is still absorbed in his task. Or maybe he’s just staring at your tits. Marcus would be direct, you think. Marcus, who says exactly what he means, who never utters a word that isn’t straight from his heart. You could stand to take a few cues from Marcus. You take a deep breath.

“I like you,” you begin. Best to get the hardest thing to say out first. “I, um, I like you a lot. I want–can we do this… more? Again?”

Marcus looks up at you, his expression a mixture of surprise, happiness, and hope.

“How about next time I take you out first,” he says with a smile.

“You mean a real date that doesn’t start with a stakeout and end with a foot chase?”

Marcus laughs. “How about a nice dinner, instead. No chasing involved.”

“It was fucking hot when you shoved that guy against the bricks, though” you say with a little wink. “Couldn’t help but picture me in his place.”

Marcus’s voice drops to a lower register. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he rasps, then leans over to press a lingering, sensual kiss to your mouth. Then he straightens with a smile. “Until then,” he says brightly, “I’m sure the oven is preheated. Let me put the pizza in and I’ll be right back.”

When Marcus returns, he doesn’t sit on the couch. Instead, he kneels between your legs, his hooded eyes staring up at you, darkened with desire.

“I did promise the pizza would come third,” he jokes. “I have exactly twelve minutes to make that happen.”

The pizza came fourth.

-

Taglist: @leslie-lyman @beyourobsession @coastielaceispunk @balekanemohafe @lovesbiggerthanpride @Wildmoonflower @hotchlover @honestly-shite @ezrasbirdie @stilettoforbeginners @bison-writes @green-socks @mandocrasis @musings-of-a-rose @beskarprincessjenny @iamskyereads @janebby @amneris21 @littlemisspascal @buckybarneshairpullingkink @pascalove

[recklessmark]

arrested

—mark lee x reader

pairings: police officer x gangster

genre: smut

words: 2586

warnings: unprotected sex (be safe guys), public play, oral sex, face-cumming, fingering, dirty talk, humilation, gun-play, mention of blood, mark slaps you once, a rough sex ig

"we've got a possible suspect at 396 broadway st." the radio suddenly blares while mark is wandering around on the pathway.

he says into his portable two-way radio, "i'm on my way." shoving the device into his pocket, he decides to have a look since broadway st is only a couple blocks from his post.

he turns on his siren and lights, quickly speeds off to the scene. as he walks towards the house with the given address, hand on his gun holster. he can see through the window that there's some motions inside. carefully approaches the house, he kicks the door open.

“where the fuck is my money you-“

mark can see, with the the occasional street light through the window and the opened door, that the figure has long hair tied up in a ponytail. there’s also a man sitting on the floor.

the suspect turns around due to the sudden sound of the door banging against the wall. the cold air burns mark’s lungs, but that doesn't stop him from pushing through.

“hands up!”, he says while stepping towards the suspected criminal.

“hey hey calm down.”

you obediently drop the crowbar in your hand onto the floor, raising your hands up behind your head. you didn’t think that there will be any police around here. mark immediately runs up and kicks the crowbar away from you, holding you down as he puts you in handcuffs.

"hello this is officer lee, i've got the suspe- are you fucking kidding me?" he cuts off and absentmindedly clips his radio back onto his uniform.

mark realizes he knows this person when he gets to see your face clearly. y/n l/n. your eyes bring him all the way back to high school, which wasn't too long ago, but was long enough to see who got the short end of the stick. your eyes narrow when you also recognize mark, though still manage not to say anything. you two just look at each other for what feels like eternities. finally mark makes the first move.

"what are you doing here?" he strolls towards the man who is still sitting numbly with some blood on his forehead, helping him off the ground.

“this asshole took out a loan from me, that’s my money, you can’t just arrest me!”, you try to explain.

mark doesn’t say anything, once again takes out his radio to call someone else to take the man back to the office after he decides he will take you there alone with him.

you give the pathetically injured man the last warning stare before mark leads you outside the house. your start walking towards where his police car is parked, and from a distance you can see there’s already another police car pulled up. the walk is long and silent, only the sound of your footsteps fills the cold night air. you make it to mark's car, the blue and red lights still flashing. he shoves you on the car, pressing your back against the door.

"what the hell were you doing?" he asks, now sounding more like an ex-boyfriend than a cop.

"you know i never say anything twice." you roll your eyes, why should you explain what you were doing if he already knows?

"why?" he asks, yet it doesn't seem like a question.

"because that’s my fucking money!” you answer aggressively.

"that's not an excuse for terrorizing someone." mark coos.

"as if that’s your money, i worked my ass off for that shit, and he should be thankful that i came there alone." you reply, now excessively belligerent.

if it wasn’t for the handcuffs, you would poke his eyes out right away. mark is your ex-boyfriend, he’s not your dad to interrogate you. and for mark, even if you were lovers but he always dislikes the fact that you’re too stubborn to listen to anyone including your used-to-be boyfriend.

"so what now?" you annoyingly ask.

"shut your mouth." he replies, messing with his radio again, "why won't this thing work?"

"may be if you just fucking throw it on the ground, it should work then." you mumble under your breath. it’s literally night time, you really want to go home to take a good sleep, that’s the last thing you could do since you didn’t have your money back tonight.

"that wasn't a rhetorical question." mark scoffs as he quits trying to fix his obviously broken radio. "this has to be the worst situation." he thinks to himself.

you stare at mark, the street lights enhance his face features perfectly. it has been a long time since you last saw him, he was a good boyfriend when you were nothing better than a brat, and you have to ironically admit it.

"hey you look good." you say unexpectedly.

"t-thanks?" mark doesn't know whether he should take the compliment, but it gives him butterflies.

"to be honest, i would still date you." you blurt out, your voice almost flat with no emotion. you turn your head away, extremely embarrassed that you even said that, what were you thinking? you were just getting angry at him less than 5 minutes ago.

mark's mood shifts. "yeah? i wasn’t a bad boyfriend, was i? physically, mentally and..." he says, putting his hands on his hips, “...sexually.”

your cheeks flush. you didn't anticipate he would return the energy, you were just playing around.

his eyes become hungry, he checks you out up and down. something inside him awakens when he sees your flustered face. "get in the car." he demands, giving in to his thoughts.

you frown, giving him a befuddled look.

"backseat. now. or will i have to force you in?" he barks.

mark opens the door for you since your wrists are locked in hanfcuff behind your back. you climb in the back of the police car feeling so defeated, wishing that you have brought a gun tonight, you want to see whether your gun or his gun, which one is faster.

mark drives in silence until he makes a turn at the corner which is on the opposite direction of the police station.

"where are we going?" you notice he’s going somewhere. mark doesn't respond and you sigh, decide not to push it. soon the street lights disappear, only some are lefts as you turn into an alley. your are utterly confused. where are you?

he drives for a little longer before parking his car alongside the road. he comes around to the door to opens it and let you out, uncuffing you in the process.

looking up into the night sky, you try to point out constellations, trying to get your thoughts together. you suddenly feel hands tracing up from your hips to your shoulders. you fall back into mark's chest in surprise, eyes open widely.

"you like that? i knew you would." he breathes into your ear.

one of his hand make its way down your belly and into your box pants. mark cups your clothing core causing you to gasp. his hand is cold, but it feel good against your heat.

he gently pushes your panty aside, slips two of his fingers into your pussy while leaving kisses on your neck. he then urgently removes your shirt and pants, along with your underwear and bra, leaving you vulnerable and completely naked. embarrassment is running in your veins. you’re completely naked while mark his still in his uniform, making a good contrast as the street light illuminates you. he examines your body with lustful eyes, fingers playing with your cunt, and nipples.

mark unzips his pants, letting his cock through.

he doesn't have to say a word before your are on your knees. he leans up against the car and throws his head back in pleasure as you take his member into your hand, stroking it. you try to estimate how much has it grown because the last time you checked he wasn’t this big, he was still big though. he places a hand on the back of your head and pushes you further down onto his shaft. small gags and winces come from you and spit spills from your mouth, down to your chin.

“yeah suck it.”

mark missed the feeling of your mouth on his cock. your lips wrap around the officer’s dick so gracefully. you hollow your cheek, swirling your tongue around his tip. he thrusts harshly into your mouth, making sure he gets every last inch of it down your throat. "still the dirty little slut i remember." he growls when he’s about to cum.

he pulls away and you gasp for air as much as you can. he strokes his cock with his hand, directing his tip at your face.

“stick your tongue out.”

only few seconds later, thick loads of cum land on all over your face, some on your tongue, some in your mouth. you swipe them off your face with your fingers, shoving them in your mouth.

“good girl.”, he helps you to stand up and kisses you softly. mark then gestures to the car, specifically the back seat.

you bend yourself over in the backseat of the police car, ass up so he can have easy access. you turn your head to see mark undress himself. his biceps are much bigger than before due to his career of a police officer and his abs look like they were sculpted by god himself. his hair is messy and sweaty from getting worked up.

mark positions himself and lines his cock up with your pussy. he spits in his hand and smears it all over his tip.

"wait, you need a con- fuck." you hiss. now you’re sure he is so much bigger than he was, you were even always having a hard time to adjust with his size.

not letting you adjust, he eagerly bottoms out and starts moving. your struggle to stay up on your hands and knees. with every thrust of him, your vision becomes more and more blurry, your eyes tearing up from the mix of pain and pleasure. you let out lewd moans, each getting louder and louder as you approaches your orgasm, forget that you’re in public.

"damn, i missed this dirty tight pussy of you." mark groans. he puts his hands on the ceiling of the car, trying to get as deep as he could into his ex-girlfriend. with a loud breath, he gives some deep and slow strokes. you feel the urge to cum more and more with the pleasure. mark can sense this and he stops moving.

"are you gonna cum, y/n?" he leans in to ask you.

"n-no.." you say apprehensively.

"you know what happens when you lie." his voice goes deeper, his hand wraps around your throat.

"yes, mark! i'm close!" you cry out.

"you better not cum without my permission, fucking slut, always so desperate." mark scolds and chokes you harder.

he lightly rubs your back while he begins to fuck you again. your breathing is heavy, your eyes struggle to stay open, you feel like you could explode from the amount of pleasure he is giving you.

“who fucks you so good? can anyone fuck you like this?”, he yanks your head back by your ponytail.

“you mark! on-only you can fuck m-me this good!”, you babble.

his grunts fill your ears as you seemingly slip in and out of consciousness. your brain is so fuzzy that you don't even realize how close you are to reach your climax. he stops again.

"what did i say about you cumming?" mark asks.

"i'm sorry-." you explain, coming back to full consciousness

unexpectedly, you hear a click and a cold metal thing is being held to you head, which you assume to be his gun.

"if you cum without my permission, i'll blow your brain out. got it slut?" mark whispers into your ear, his other hand is wrapping around your neck. his words are bone-chilling.

you are filled with fear, you aren’t scared of the gun but it’s mark, since when he has a kink with a fucking gun, it’s quite outrageous, isn’t it?

mark traces the barrel of the gun from your ear to your chin, he flips you over onto your back. "open." he asks, calmly as you look up at him with unconscious eyes.

"open it." he repeats, agitated. you still do nothing. he puts the gun in his left hand and uses his right hand to slap you across the face, leaving the left side of your face with his handprint.

"are you gonna fucking listen now?" mark asks again, he looks like he’s really about to blow your brain out. you nod, still in shocked. your head is spinning and you can't even think.

"good. now open wide." you obey and he places the loaded gun into your mouth, shoving it as far back as he can.

mark slowly presses his dick back inside you and places his finger on the trigger. "be quiet, don't cum before me. understood?" it sounds more like a command than a question.

he begins fucking you again, causing you to gag on the barrel of the gun, but you didn't dare make a sound. tears streaming down your face as mark smiles down onto his poor slut.

before long, mark is telling you he's going to cum.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum so deep into that pretty little cunt of yours, i’m gonna fill you up." he growls.

as he approaches orgasm, he takes the gun out of your mouth and places it on your neck, using the barrel to tilt your chin up. you are terrified but turned on at the same time with the idea that your ex-boyfriend as a cop is fucking you in an dark alley where anyone can see you. however, can he completely control himself when he cums?

mark grunts and moans louder than ever and you can feel him unload into your hole. his cum is hot and feels like it's burning your walls. that’s when you give up, cumming on his cock.

he falls onto you, gun falling onto the floor of the car. his sweaty chest landing on your stomach. he springs up and tries to comfort you. "i know it was scary, but it's over now. don't worry, shhh." mark cradles you as you both sit in the backseat of the cop car. "i was never going to hurt you.", he helps you to put on your clothes.

“what the fuck are you talking about, i wasn’t that scared, not only you can blow my brain out.”, you bark as you pick up the gun, pretend like you’re going to shoot him.

he zips up your pants, there’s not even a small hint of fear, “okay, i know, ms gangster.”

you fully expected mark to put you back in handcuffs and send you off to the police station, but he drops you off near the center of town.

"hopefully we can stay in touch." mark says as you step out of the car.

you roll your eyes, "just say it if you wanna fuck me, that was fake as hell." you say as you give him a death stare

"in lieu of physically abuse someone, getting a good fuck is not that stupid, is it?" mark muses with a smirk on his face, eyes sparkling.

"fucking you was the only stupid thing, asking my money back has nothing to do with it." you say sarcastically, “and that asshole is not going anywhere, i’m going to take my money back at your very office tomorrow, see you.”

“i fucking know you want it either.”, mark rolls the car window up and drives away.

©️  DREAMYKRAM. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (10/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: A case brings you back to Cat Adams - and there’s a lot she has to say.

Warnings: angst, be prepared

Word Count: 1.9k 

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long and it’s so short, but.i tried really hard. hope you enjoy. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

Annoyed, you slap the steering wheel with the flat of your hand as if it will magically make the traffic jam in front of you disappear.

Ever since you ended the friendship between Spencer and you, the universe seems to want to punish you. First, a pipe broke in your apartment, flooding your bathroom. Apparently, it was fixed so well that two days later, suddenly no water arrived in your apartment, right when you were in the shower. Yesterday morning, none of your three alarm clocks rang, which is why you were way late for work.

And now you've been stuck in traffic for about an hour, and even though all the lights are green, you're not moving forward at all. You are lucky that you left an hour earlier than usual today and apparently you had a good nose. In the next few days you would leave nothing to chance.

The only positive thing about your bad luck is that all the stress doesn't leave you any time to think about Spencer, and since he's currently still teaching and not on BAU, you don't have to see him either. You wouldn't be able to stand wanting to be close to him without being able to. Even though it was your choice to turn away from him. But that doesn't mean it's any less painful.

When you finally get to the office, you head straight to the round table where everyone is already waiting for you. Even Spencer is sitting at his seat, and as your eyes meet, your blood freezes in your veins. What is he doing here? Did you miscount the days he wasn't supposed to be here? Or are you just unlucky again?

Emily stands next to Penelope next to the screen. In her hand she holds a file that looks very familiar. "Top secret" is written on it, and the fact that you're all here now - even Spencer - is definitely not a good sign. "Married men have been found dead in several states," she begins to speak, and Penelope shows the crime scene images on the screen. "They were always shot at close range."

"Seems personal", JJ says.

"What about the wives?", asks Tara. "Were they unhappy marriages?"

As the team speculates, you look more closely at the photos on your tablet. One of the men is wearing an expensive watch; another has a black American Express in his wallet.All of the men are dressed fancier, as if they had been on a date, but apparently not with their own wives, because they all had water-tight alibis.  Something about this case feels eerily familiar.

You take a look at the family pictures that had been sent to you. Some of the men had children, others didn't, but they all lived very luxuriously. Big houses, several cars. Bigwigs. Their lives seemed perfect. Maybe a little too perfect.

"So the killer is targeting rich, married men?", speaks up Luke. "But why these particular men? There are no connections between them, and I doubt they were chosen at random."

It wasn't random, you add in thought. Somewhere in your brain synapses link and it lays on the tip of your tongue, but you can't name it. The thought is like an itch you can't get rid of and you'd love to rip the hair off your head, it bothers you so much.

"Who throws themselves at married men only to kill them?", asks Matt. "An avenging angel who kills cheaters?"

You glance at the bank statements, and the scales fall from your eyes. Running a hand through your hair, you look first at Emily, who gives you a knowing look before casting a furtive glance in Spencer's direction. But he's already looking at you. Is he thinking the same thing you are? Has he figured it out, too? Does Emily know? Is that why she called him in?

"That's impossible", Spencer says without taking his eyes off you. The team looks at him before their questioning gazes move to you. Apparently, they haven't figured it out yet. "She's in jail."

You interlace your fingers in your lap so they don't see how much you're shaking. Just the thought of it makes you shudder. "It has to be a copycat", you return, to which Spencer's eyes narrow.

"Who are you talking about?", JJ asks, putting her hand on his arm, but he's so focused on you that he doesn't even notice.

Emily clears her throat and everyone looks to her except for Spencer and you. "Cat Adams."

-

"I talked to the warden", Emily says when you're in her office. She stands leaning against her desk while Spencer and JJ face her. You've taken the seat on the couch against the wall, elbows propped on your knees, foot bobbing up and down.

Really bad. Really, really bad.

"Adams is ready to talk. But only with you, Spencer."Though her words are directed at him, her gaze is calmly on you. Apparently, she wants to make sure you don't throw up on the floor.  You can't promise her. "In twenty minutes, you'll be flying out. As soon as the three of you find out anything, I want to be informed immediately."

Spencer's whole body tenses, but he doesn't respond. The two of them leave the office while you stay behind. Emily sits down next to you on the couch and grabs your hands.

"I'd rather you didn't go with them, Y/N," she begins. "But I'm afraid you have to go with them. You know why."

You look at her, her expression concerned, and you'd like to hug her as an assurance that everything would be okay. "It just doesn't make things any easier, unfortunately."

During the flight, no one speaks a word. You each turn your attention to other things to calm yourselves. JJ watches videos on her phone, Spencer reads a book about astronomy, and you close your eyes, trying not to think too much, but each time you do, you see her face.

The streak of bad luck continues to haunt you.

The warden takes you straight to the interrogation room. He says something, but you don't listen to him. You're far too preoccupied with the fact that everything could go to hell in a minute. To say you're scared would be an understatement.

The three of you stand in front of the glass, allowing you to peer into the room. Cat Adams looks worse than you imagined. Her hair hangs stringy and disheveled from her head, there are jet-black shadows under her eyes, and her overall appearance could be straight out of a horror movie.

"Are you okay, Spence?" asks JJ, but Spencer doesn't answer. "Take all the time you need. No one is forcing you to talk to her right now."

"The longer I don't talk to her, the more potential victims there are," he replies coolly and firmly, looking to his blonde friend. There's a hardness in his gaze that's only been directed at you lately. So that's how much he despises you. He puts you on the same level as a man-killing psychopath.

He squeezes JJ's hand before giving you a quick look that says more than a thousand words could. Then he opens the door and enters the interrogation room. Spencer sits down across from Cat at the table and folds his hands on the table.

"Spencie. It's been a long time."At the sound of her voice and nickname, Spencer barely flinches, and you want to flee.  But even if you could-you wouldn't let Spencer go through this alone. No matter what might come.

"It could have been a lot longer."

Cat leans back in her chair, relaxed, and looks at him. "Your hair has gotten longer. It suits you very well."

"Thanks." You can't see his face, but you're pretty sure he's raising an eyebrow. "We're not here to exchange pleasantries or compliments, though."

She nods curtly. "That's right. From what I hear, there's someone running around outside who gets as much pleasure out of killing married men as I do." She bites her lower lip, which makes her look even crazier than she already does. "I never thought there'd be a copycat of me. It's kind of cool, though. I have to admit."

"Do you know anything about that?" Spencer's voice is cold. Apparently he wants to get out of there as fast as he can, and you can't blame him.

Cat's gaze moves from Spencer's face to his hands. Slowly, she reaches across the table and untangles his fingers so she can look at his left hand. "From what I can see, you're not wearing a wedding ring at all, Spencie. What happened to your fiancée?"

You inhale sharply, and JJ's hand rubs your arm reassuringly for a moment. It was only a matter of time before she asked, but secretly you hoped she wouldn't.

Spencer's back muscles tighten under his dark blue shirt. "She left me when I got arrested."

Cat can't help but grin, and you'd love to punch her right in the face. "I'd say I'm sorry about that, but it's not like we're lying to each other." She plays with his fingers like it's the most normal thing in the world. "Must have been pretty hard for you."

"It wasn't easy."

"And you haven't heard from her since." It's more of a question than a statement. When Spencer doesn't answer, she drops his fingers. Her expression darkens abruptly. Your heart slips into your pants. "Right?"

Please don't say anything. Don't go into it.

"I'm not here to talk about her or me", he finally replies, and you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. JJ looks at you in confusion, and a faint smile creeps onto your lips. But your moment of relief is short-lived, because Cat doesn't seem to want to give in.

"I want answers as much as you do, Spencie.  If you give me some, I'll give you some. A fair trade," she grins, leaning back in her chair again, arms crossed in front of her chest. "So?"

"She came back a few weeks ago", he replies coolly, and Cat's eyes widen as if she really wasn't expecting it.

"Oh, no. Really?" Again she leans forward, so curious is she. "And what did she say? Did she apologize? Or told you the reason she left?" Her grin is so wide it almost reaches her ears. It makes you want to throw up.

"She said she didn't love me anymore."

"And you just believed her?" She shakes her head, but waits for no response. "I thought you were a better profiler, Spencie. After all, you cracked me. You should have realized something was up."

"What do you mean, something's up?" he asks.

Your whole body tenses with panic, but inside you're screaming, pleading, and a small part of you is sinking into a black hole right now.

"At least one thing she stuck to." Cat's grin is false, and sly and insidious as she speaks. "She didn't tell you about our deal?"

next part

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[hamsterboos]

Met Him Last Night

I literally speed wrote this in an hour so I'm sorry if this is a mess lmaooo but hopefully this will be continued, we'll see :D If anyone wants to be tagged in upcoming updates to this, please let me know! Just be warned, this first chapter does have (not very specific) details of a panic attack!

Title is from Demi Lovato's Met Him Last Night

Word Count: 2181 Read on AO3 Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Day 17 of Rowaelin Month Prompt: Bodyguard AU

~~~~~

Aelin was just about ready to murder someone, and that someone would most definitely be her cousin.

“Aelin, I’m serious, you need protection.”

She growled as she slammed her palms down on the dining table, loudly, as she stood up. “And I’m serious when I say that I need sleep. This stupid bodyguard business can wait two days for me to hibernate.”

Aedion also stood up, mirroring her stance as he leaned in closer to her. “Your life is in literal danger, Aelin. I hope you understand what that means.”

“It was one instance!” she insisted, pushing herself away from the table and moving to the kitchen to put her empty dinner plate into the sink. She was so exhausted from all the travel she’d done in the last few days that all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep — dishes be damned.

“One instance of the guy mailing you pictures of you from the hotel and on the sidewalk,” he responded, moving beside her. He was following her on purpose to make sure she couldn’t escape him, and Aelin was pissed off that he knew her so well to do that. “He’s been sending you those weird as hell letters for years.”

“It’s not exactly a trade secret which hotels I stay in when I’m going on book tours, Aedion. You know that.”

“If you stopped posting Instagram pictures with the hotel in the background, then it would be more of a secret considering that you are a public figure now. Besides, it’s only going to get worse now that Crescent City season 1 press shoots start soon. Your face will be more famous than just in the book world, Aelin. People will see articles of the author behind the next biggest fantasy show on television. Things are already bad, and we shouldn’t let it get past that.”

“Okay, fine, but why can’t we talk about this later? My body clock thinks it’s the middle of the freaking night, and I haven’t slept in fifteen hours. Please get out of my face so I can sleep.”

“Aelin, if you don’t take this seriously, I’m going to do it for you.”

“Oh dear cousin, owner of a security company, please do. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with it, especially now that I’m going to be much busier.”

“You’re so annoying,” he grumbled as he stalked towards the door.

“Love you too!” she called after him, finally, finally, heading towards her bedroom. Fleetfoot trotted after her happily, and Aelin snorted as her dog’s wet snout kept bumping into her bare calves. The dog was way too excited to see her after two long months away from home with Aelin travelling all over the world for the release of her latest book. It wasn’t like she could deny the fact that she had missed her dear, sweet dog so much as well, so when Aelin flopped down onto her soft bed for the first time in months, she let Fleetfoot join her.

Fleetfoot circled the same spot three times before curling up against Aelin, her tail slowly thumping against the mattress as Aelin got comfortable as well. The feeling of warmth from her dog and the happiness from being in her own bed after so long had Aelin falling asleep faster than she normally did, and she was just about entirely asleep when she barely heard the click of her front door opening.

Figuring it was Aedion, she just tried to drown out the sound, not having the willpower nor the strength to move. He could let himself out after taking whatever he had probably forgotten at her place, and Aelin would be happily dozing for the next several hours.

Until a crash broke the haze Aelin was in, and her eyes shot open. Heart pounding in her chest, she looked at Fleetfoot who was staring at the closed door with alarm as well.

Aelin was confused. Aedion was careful to not drop ceramic or glass objects within the house, knowing how much her mother would always be on the two of them growing up to be careful with such things, and it didn’t help that she was still half asleep. Nothing made sense to her.

Slowly getting out of bed, she winced as she stood up entirely, her feet aching after days of standing in heels. Aelin walked over to the bedroom door and creaked it open, and she scanned the immediate vicinity for Aedion, trying to see if he was anywhere near the living room or corridor. When she didn’t see him, she creeped out of her room, trying to be quiet but the sluggishness had already taken over body as she stumbled into the wall a few times. Fleetfoot was at her tail, but Aelin forced her to stay before turning the corner into the living room. If there was glass on the ground, she didn’t want it getting in her dog’s paws.

Once Aelin turned the corner, she immediately stopped, finding the scene in front of her unwelcome and incredibly jarring.

There was a man standing in her room, one that didn’t have the same blond hair she did, and the broken object was a picture frame, the shards of glass littered about on the ground as he gripped a photo of her and Fleetfoot.

Aelin swallowed slowly, the saliva getting stuck in her throat as her mouth went dry, as she realized that a man had broken into her home.

As quietly as she could, she placed a hand over her mouth, trying not to breathe too loudly as she quickly made her way back into her bedroom, herding Fleetfoot with her, and she locked the door to the bedroom. Wildly glancing around, she took the chair from her vanity and jammed it under the door knob so the door wouldn’t open.

“What do I do,” she whispered, scared of her mind as she sat down on her bed. She was shaking, that much was sure as Fleetfoot tried to lick her hands and face in an attempt to calm her down. How was Aelin supposed to calm down when there was someone in her house?

Realizing that Aedion must’ve not gotten far, she lunged for her phone on the bed and dialed Aedion’s number.

“Weren’t you supposed to be asleep?” was his greeting, but all she could get out at first was a shuddering gasp.

“Aedion,” she whispered.

“Aelin? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice immediately alert.

“There’s someone in my apartment.”

“What?!”

“Hurry, please,” she cried, trying to muffle her voice to make it seem that she wasn’t at home. She didn’t know if the man had known that she was in the apartment, but she didn’t want him to find out.

“Aelin, listen to me, you’ll be fine. I’m almost there. Are you still in your room?”

“I, uh, I’m in my bedroom with Fleetfoot. I went out when there was a crash, and then ran back to my room,” she managed to get out. “I locked the door and jammed a chair underneath.”

“Go into the bathroom and lock that door too,” he urged, and she got up to move to the bathroom. “If he manages to get your room door unlocked, then at least you have some more time. I’m almost there, but you need to call 911, too.”

“Aedion, I can’t—” Aelin gasped out, leaning against the bathroom counter after locking the door behind her and her dog. Her breaths were coming in faster, and there wasn’t anything she could do to control the way her eyesight was beginning to blur. “I can’t let him know I’m in here.”

“He won’t find out,” he urged.

“But Aedion,” she cried, “the plates in the sink. He’ll see them, and he’ll know I was home. He’ll know I’m here.” The pounding in her chest had gotten louder than what Aedion was saying, and all she could do was sob into her hands. She wasn’t safe anymore outside, but now she wasn’t safe in her own room.

“Aelin! Aelin, it’s okay, I’m here.”

The next thing Aelin heard were shouts and yells before it got all quiet. She clambered up to her feet, throwing the door to the bathroom open before trying to get the chair back out, but it wouldn’t budge. It was stuck, and her limbs weren’t cooperating. There wasn’t anything she could do, and she tugged at the chair with a cry.

“Come on,” she cried, tugging at it more before it finally came free, clattering to the ground. Unlocking the door, she took a few unsteady steps before Aedion came into view, the man lying on the ground unconscious. Aelin lost all control of her body, and she fell into Aedion’s arm as he ran for her, and that was the last thing she saw before blackness encompassed her.

~~~

When Aelin awoke several hours later, it was to the commotion coming from downstairs. At first, she blinked a few times, trying to readjust to where she was because it wasn’t the drab hotel room view she’d gotten accustomed to, and once her brain was awake enough to process that she was in Aedion and Lysandra’s spare bedroom, she got out of bed and padded over to the bathroom to brush her teeth and her hair. If she was going to show her face after a major panic attack that caused her to faint for a few minutes, she should at least look decent.

Fleetfoot was, thankfully, also with her in the room, and Aelin sat on the ground for a few minutes just to hug her dog before getting up and going to the living room.

As soon as she made her entrance, everyone went silent, the only sound was Fleetfoot’s paws as she went straight for Lysandra to nose at her for treats.

“Okay,” Aelin swallowed. “I get it. I need a bodyguard, but at least that guy was arrested,” she continued, hopefully. Aedion beckoned her to sit next to him, and it was then that she realized that besides her cousin and his wife, Elide was also there and a man that she’d never met before. He was striking, to say the least. Silver hair with a sharp jawline and beautifully green eyes. His short-sleeved shirt also showed off swirls of tattoo creeping up his bicep, and Aelin had to say that she was intrigued by who this man was.

“Look,” her cousin started, directing her attention back to him. His face showed concern, and she was suddenly worried that this entire ordeal might not be over. “That man wasn’t the same one who stalked you. He was just a burglar trying to score after noticing that no one had been going in or out of the apartment for a while. It just helped that the security guard downstairs is of no use, so he broke in.”

Aelin was having a hard time processing all this information being thrown at her. “So you’re telling me that it was just...unlucky?”

“I have been telling you to move,” he unhelpfully added, and she let him know exactly that.

“Anyway, we’ve come up with a solution,” Elide butt in. “Aelin, meet Rowan Whitethorn. He works in Aedion’s company. He was working for a different client for a few years, but they switched companies, so he’s now free to protect you.”

“Hey,” she greeted without any of her previous enthusiasm.

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Galanthynius,” Rowan responded, and she noticed the slight accent to his words.

“Doranelle?” she asked, and he nodded.

“I will be protecting you from now on, uh, in a close manner.”

Aelin slightly jerked in her spot at his shy demeanor over his words, and the way he said it caught her attention.

“What do you mean?” No one answered her at first, peaking her anxiety again. “Aedion?” she asked, looking to him for an explanation.

“Since it’s also not safe for you to be at home alone, we’re going to have Rowan pretend to be your boyfriend.”

~~~

Aelin stepped out of the car, hand placed in Rowan’s as he led her into the paparazzi filled lot that led to the building where the final press shoots and poster shoots would be taking place for her show. It was still absolutely insane that someone she had written was actually going to be a TV show for the whole world to see, but another absolutely insane thing was the fact that she was pressed up against Rowan’s hard body, trying to pretend to be absolutely in love with him.

“Who is this man?” she heard one of the journalists ask, and she wanted to say that she didn’t exactly know either considering she had just met him last night, but this was the perfect opportunity for the world to know that she had a boyfriend.

Technically.

Smiling, she pulled Rowan to a stop as she turned to the vague direction from where she heard the voice. “This is my boyfriend.”

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

I came back for you

Word count: 2123

Genre: Angst but happy end

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: Abusive prison/government (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: Hey, so this is kind of a weird request, but could you do a Nattie x Powered! Reader during Civil War, where Nat, of course, is on Tony's team, and the Reader is trying to keep the peace between the two teams. Maybe the government takes (Y/n) and puts her in a shock collar like Wanda's because they think she was on Steve's team? Sorry this is so weird . . .

Summary: You are neutral in the fight, or so you think before you are told you can't be and are taken away with the rest of Cap's team.

A/n: Thanks @thewidowsghost for requesting this! Honestly I didn't plan on writing anything or posting anything today but I saw that I had a little bit of this done and to be honest my day has sucked so I needed a distraction and this worked perfectly. Also I could someone tell me how the formatting looks? I'm trying the new beta editor and I think I'm doing things right but idk. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!

As you take in the scene that surrounds you you can’t believe that you once considered everybody to be a big weird family. Certainly none of them are acting like it now. It breaks your heart to see them on opposite sides, throwing themselves at each other because apparently their personal beliefs are more important than their friends.

Neither of them are right or wrong in your opinion. There’s too many factors and both options suck, it’s the government’s fault for placing the team in this situation. However you are not happy with the way anyone is handling it, especially Steve, Tony and Natasha. Both Tony and Steve are acting based on what they think is right without considering the other sides to the story, although you can’t say that’s surprising coming from them. You do know that they genuinely do care for others but they can be very hard headed and neither of them like to be wrong.

It’s Natasha who you’re most disappointed in though, you thought that she would be a better negotiation, helping ease the tension but she’s out there fighting like the rest of the idiots. You thought that she would agree with you and try to bring together the two sides.

You narrow your eyes and zoom in your vision to the far side of the airport where you see Spiderman. You have no idea who he is but you can tell just by looking at him that he’s only a kid and it was irresponsible of everyone to let him be here and to fight him. You use your superspeed to get to him quickly and take him out of the way of flying cars and leave him by the side where it should be relatively safe.

“Stay here.” you tell him.

“But-”

You glare. “Stay here.”

You rush off before you can make sure he listens because you can hear a grunt of pain from Rhodney. He’s lying on the ground with Tony standing over him and Sam a few meters back. The fight seems to be ending now, you see the plane leaving and the rest of the avengers start to gather but it doesn’t matter because the damage is already done. You don’t know exactly what happened but it looks like a freak accident, somehow nobody’s fault and yet everybody’s fault for getting into this situation in the first place.

The mood is weird, as if everybody is holding their breath and taking in what they’ve done. In the background you can hear trucks pulling up and footsteps follow soon after. The first man grabs Wanda and she blasts him back lightly so he falls down. Immediately a circle forms around her, everyone pointing their guns. Clint takes a step in, raising his arms and trying to calm the situation down but the guns shift to him and one agent steps forward and roughly grabs him, forcing his wrists into cuffs.

They go for Sam next and he looks pissed but lets them cuff him without comment. Scott looks completely confused and out of his depth. You don’t know him but it’s obvious that he is not trained for these types of situations and is in over his head.

It’s Wanda that makes your heart break the most though. She’s like a little sister to you so seeing the tears in her eyes and the terror on her face as the agents move in to cuff her makes you want to wrap your arms around her and promise it will all be okay. But you can’t, that would be a lie because everything is not okay and trying to hug her would only make things worse.

The agents start to move away, leading Cap's team to their trucks to be taken away. One of them turns back and notices you, murmuring something to the agents beside them. Before you can even understand what is happening they are right back and grabbing at your arms roughly. Naturally you try to pull away but they are strong and once you realize what is happening you stop struggling.

“I didn’t pick a side,” you try to explain, “I was just trying to make sure everyone was okay.”

“You didn’t sign the accords and therefore have no right to be here.” one of the men tells you. You look towards Tony’s team for help but they all seem to be busy. Tony and Vision are trying to make sure Rhodney is okay and the kid is luckily back where you left him. T’challa is shaking hands with one of the agents and although it makes you sick because of the way they are treating some of the others you understand, he does have a country to run and his people must come first after all.

Natasha is the only one not doing anything and she meets your eyes. You silently beg her to do something, anything against what is happening. She stares you straight in the eye and shakes her head. You actually shiver at how cold her look is because you never thought that would be directed at you, you thought that the two of you were close.

“I’m not going to help you Y/n, you made your own choice and I made mine.” Is all she says before turning away. You watch her back as long as you can as you are led into the trucks, wondering how everything went wrong so quickly.

---

Nobody talks. You aren’t even sure if you’re allowed to. There is no way what they are doing is legal but who is going to argue with the government. A secret prison built just for enhanced individuals and imprisoning people without trial isn’t right. You were neutral before but the more you see of how the government operates the more you start to lean towards supporting Steve and the rest of his “team”.

You shift slightly because the shock collar is getting even more uncomfortable. Wanda is wearing one too, probably since the two of you are the only ones that have powers unrelated to technology and suits. She looks smaller than ever in her cell and you close your eyes because if you continue to look at her you know you’ll end up crying.

Nothing changes throughout the day until you hear the door creak open. Everyone glares when they see it’s Tony and he and Clint share a few words before Tony practically begs Sam for information. Sam’s reluctant but gives in, seeing that Tony is sincere and knowing that although he disagrees with Tony it’s not really his fault that you’re all here, it’s the government’s.

When Tony leaves things go silent again for a few hours. You haven’t been fed since you’ve gotten here, you realize, but you aren’t hungry anyways, your mind can’t stop picturing the fight, being arrested and most of all Natasha’s attitude towards you. It hurts even more than you would like to admit. You considered her your best friend but you also had feelings for her and you were dumb enough to think that just maybe she felt the same things about you. Obviously that is completely untrue and you wonder if even your friendship was a lie.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here for?” Wanda asks finally and although her voice is quiet you wince at how it breaks the silence.

“I don’t know kid.” Clint responds. “Too long. My wife is going to kill me and my kids-”

He stops himself, getting a little choked up which surprises you. You’ve never seen him this emotional before.

“I already miss my daughter.” Scott adds on and there is a moment of understanding that passes between the two of them.

“I don’t have my own family but I’m going to miss my sister.” Sam says. “She probably won’t even find out what’s happening until it’s on the news, if the news even covers it.”

“I miss the team.” you add. “Before this fight, we weren’t perfect but I considered everyone family.”

“So did I.” Wanda says and you all take a moment to miss what used to be.

“I miss pizza.” Sam jokes, trying to lighten the mood. It works and soon everyone is adding on ridiculous things they miss and things they want to do when you get out (you can’t even think about the fact that the “when” might actually be “if”).

Your eyes snap to the door when it opens and everyone shuts up immediately. You look warily at Natasha, unsure of why she’s here. Maybe the government sent her in to interrogate, god knows she is amazing at that and you honestly wouldn’t be able to not talk to her, as much as you’re mad at her right now.

She doesn’t speak, going straight towards Sam’s door and kneeling down, fiddling with the lock. After a few seconds it clicks and the door swings open.

“When did you switch sides?” He asks, raising his eyebrows, impressed.

“I don’t pick sides, I do what makes the most sense and right now breaking you out is the right thing to do. Besides I’m wanted now too, apparently the government doesn’t like it when you aid fugitives in escaping.” she responds smoothly, moving onto Wanda’s cell and repeating her actions until it opens.

“Do you know how to take the collar off?” she asks and Sam nods. He gets to work while Natasha moves on. Both Clint and Scott pass at her offer of freeing them. They both look like they’re itching to escape but you respect that they’re putting their families first.

You’re surprised by how emotional you get when she unlocks your cell. You thought she didn’t care about you so to have her here now is amazing and makes you feel bad you ever doubted that she would do the right thing.

“Y/n, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” she tells you as she undoes your shock collar carefully, doing her best to not hurt you.

“I-I thought you didn’t care about me anymore.” you admit, a single tear dripping down your face.

She wipes it away with her thumb. “Oh sweetheart I care about you so much, more than you could ever know and I want you to always remember that, promise me.”

You nod, sniffing. “I promise Tasha.”

“Good because I came back for you and I will always come back for you.” she says, leaning in closer. You look down at her lips as she continues to lean in because she is so close and it seems like she’s going to kiss you.

“Glad to know Y/n was the only reason you came back.” Sam says, smirking. You love him but you also want to strangle him right now, that bastard could totally see what was happening and ruined the moment on purpose.

Natasha flips him the finger but otherwise ignores him. “Steve and Bucky are waiting in the jet outside, I was able to dismantle alarms and cameras but we only have a few minutes left so follow me and be quiet.”

She grabs your hand as she moves out of your cell and you walk with her, the others trailing behind slightly. The halls are clear and it’s only a few turns before she ushers everyone into a vent. It’s a tight squeeze but you make it through and you pop out to find sturdy wires attached to the side of the raft coming from a nearby jet. Wanda and Sam each take one and their wires retract, pulling them into the jet. You gulp nervously, heights are definitely not one of your favourite things.

“We have to go Y/n.” Natasha whispers just as alarms start to sound, the noises loud with flashing lights.

You take a deep breath and grab the remaining wire and once you’re secure Natasha grabs it too. Closing your eyes tightly so you don’t look down you feel a strange whooshing sensation before it disappears and your feet touch down on the jet floor.

“So what next?” Sam asks once you’ve all collected yourselves, directing his question at Steve.

“We lie low and try to help as best we can.” he responds, sighing heavily. “We’ll figure out the details as we go, what matters is that everybody is safe.”

Natasha holds your hand again and squeezes it tightly. “And that we are together.” she whispers into your ear so only you hear.

You squeeze her hand tightly back. Your relationship with her has gone through a rollercoaster of a day and is mostly undefined but she’s right, all that matters is that you’re together now and you wouldn’t rather be with anyone else.

---

Taglist: @fayhar @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @acertainredhead @madamevirgo @megaqueenmaeve @cherryblossomskye @aaron-despair @chickenhavewisdom @emril-osvigne @nyankitty987 @agathaharkness-simp @thewidowsghost @nyx-aira @stephanieromanoff @satxnsupreme @likefirenrain @wlwlovesreading @stop-drop-and-drumroll @peggycarter-steverogers @casperlikej @redswing @mochamoff @king-star @blackbat2020

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Anonymous said: Shiggy with a reader that was Forced to be a pro hero and don’t really care about hero and villains and is just super chill

Note: Hey Anon!! Thanks for requesting :) You didn’t specify what you wanted and I got a little carried away and ended up writing a one shot.

I hope you enjoy!

Shigaraki with a Hero S/O

Characters: Shigaraki x GN! Reader

Warnings: None

997 words

I General Mastelist I

You were out doing groceries in a store near your house as you noticed the lack of products in your apartment. 

When you were about to grab something from one of the selves your hand accidentally brushed against someone else's arm. You retreated your hand immediately and looked up to the stranger's face to apologize.

Except that he wasn't a stranger, when your eyes met his both of you gasped in recognition. One of the most persecuted villains was staring at you with surprise filling his eyes. 

You quickly broke eye contact and picked up the product you were looking for. 

"If I were you, I wouldn't make any suspicious movement, I'm not on duty right now and I don't feel like dealing with this, I won't be forced to imprison you unless you make a scene." You murmured before turning away from the villain. 

You left him there, completely dumbfounded at your words and actions. He recognized you, of course he did, you were one of the top pro heroes of Japan, usually working side to side with Mirko or Hawks. Why did you let him get away? Especially when capturing a villain of his rank would assure you fame and popularity. What were you thinking? 

 

During the next weeks after his encounter with you he couldn't get you out of his mind. He felt the need to understand you and your behavior, he researched about you and even more doubts aroused. It seemed like you didn’t care about your popularity, almost no interviews could be found and you never attended hero events. That only caught his attention even more and soon he found himself following you around. 

He would usually do it at night, slyly following your steps while you were on patrol or walking back home, trying to make sure you wouldn't notice him. 

"If you are going to keep following me around, why don't you at least walk by my side?" Shigaraki jumped in surprised when you talked to him. Nonetheless he actually started walking by your side. 

For days it was like this, not a single word was uttered from any of you. Still the silence was not uncomfortable, it was even soothing. 

"Why didn't you arrest me?" One day he finally asked, saying what he had been wondering for a while out loud. 

You shrugged your shoulders, resting its importance. "You weren't doing anything illegal; I don't know why should've arrested you" 

He gaped at you, were you being serious? 

"I'm a wanted villain and you are a hero, isn't that enough reason?" 

You looked him in the eyes "I really couldn't care less, in fact most of the times I agree with the league's ideology. Your way never seems the correct one though. However, is none of my business" 

The conversation ended there, he couldn't think of anything to say while you disappeared from his sight, stepping in your apartment. 

You would've expected him to stop following you around after that conversation. However, he didn't. He only grew more interested in you after having talked with you. 

This time instead of walking in complete silence there were several conversations from time to time. Mostly short and vague as it was Shigaraki who would ask about the day you met. 

There was an odd feeling of bonding that grew stronger with the time. These meetings almost feeling like an old friends’ conversation after years without seeing each other. Getting to the point where both of you would actually look forward to the specific moment when he would walk you home.

"You know? Hero society is really messed up, I mean, I know you are aware of that fact. But as a hero I'm always seeing the corruption." You confessed once. 

"Then why did you decide to become a hero?" He asked with sincere interest.

“It was never really my choice; I was scouted by the hero commission as a kid and basically forced into this life.” You replied shrugging your shoulders as you were speaking.

Shigaraki’s eyes grew bigger in surprise. “Have you ever considered quitting?” He questioned.

“Not really, I’m honestly unsure on how the commission would take it. Plus, I don’t hate the job. It's just something I wouldn’t have chosen if given the opportunity to decide” You finished, looking back at Shigaraki and giving him a smile.

“Well, that’s enough talk about me. Aren’t you gonna tell me your villain origin?” You joked, not really expecting the man at your side to open up with you.

Surprisingly he did. Not because you had just told him about your life and he felt the need to pay you back somehow. He actually was willing to open up to you, even if that meant showing himself vulnerable. For some reason, not even himself could understand, he felt safe around you. 

You stared at him, glassy eyes with tears threatening to fall at his words. He was looking down once he stopped talking. You had arrived at your door long ago and were sitting on the stairs while he was still talking. You moved without thinking twice and wrapped your arms around him, he stiffened at first but relaxed in your touch and hugged you back. Your embrace gave him a sense of safety he hadn’t felt for a long time and he allowed himself to silently cry while mourning all what he couldn’t before.

 

From that moment on the relationship only grew stronger and soon it was beyond a simple friendship. Your natural laidback and non judgmental personality made it really easy to forget your really different social positions when the two of you were together.

He did eventually introduce you to the league and after some time of suspicion they ended up loving you as well.

In general, the highlight of the relationship is how for those moments alone you two can be yourselves instead of having to live to everyone’s perception and expectations on how you should behave.

Thanks for reading!! Likes and reblogs are appreciated

Requests are open!!  

Taglist: @luci58 @lonleyweeb77

Send me an ask if you'd like to be added to my bnha taglist!

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Call 911

GIF by lostinsantacarla

Paul x Reader

Word Count: 2,550

Summary: Reader is out on patrol as part of the Santa Carla PD when they respond to a call out at the wharf. 

Amid the riotous flare of fireworks and fire crackers, it was difficult to make out the quickly approaching cop car but Marko prided himself on being observative.

Paul, Paulie, P-Man, his forever partner on the other hand…

Grabbing Paul by the front of his tank, he pulled the other vampire down to hiss in his ear. “We got company. We bail on my signal, got it?”

The honey blonde nodded distractedly, mesmerized by the bright bursts of colors overhead. The reds and blues and whites and pinks mixed with the curtain of smoke, creating a kaleidoscope against the inky night sky. 

He only heard part of what Marko was gripping about—something about a signal—but it wasn’t his fault he was having so much fun.

Another of their fireworks went off from behind Max’s Video, making him laugh even harder when some empty pallets became collateral. They splintered into pieces, the crunching sound of the wood masked by the other explosions.

Nothing said summer time fun like launching some Big Boys at the video store. It was a rockin’ light show and piss-off-Max scheme all wrapped in one. The crochety, old douche in question would no doubt have some choice words for them later but Paul wasn’t thinking about that; the only thing on his mind was blowing shit up.

In fact, he was so into it that he wasn’t prepared for the sharp punch to his ribs. He flew into the wall as Marko ran past, scampering to get airborne. “Go, go, go!”

The back door to the store opened with such force that it banged into the wall with a loud crack. Paul could sympathize. Two officers came through and before he could even think to pick himself up and run, they were on him.

The rounder of the two sat on his back, putting all his pounds into pinning Paul down. Normally, he would’ve thrown him off and maybe, probably, killed him, no sweat.

But.

There were too many people around that could catch him in the act. There’s no way Max would step in and not even Paul was stupid enough to slaughter that many people in plain sight.

Marko, he whined through the bond. A little help, bud? I’m kinda stuck.

All he got back was a manic cackle.

Paul squawked in outrage, knowing that the other would not be lending an assist. That traitor was all too content to sit back and laugh at him.

Whatever.

Screw him then.

It’s not like Paul had never been hauled in before anyhow.

“You know,” he grunted to the cop on his back, “It’s a good thing you’re not fat or anything, otherwise this would be more difficult.”

The knee dug into his back even harder and his head was pulled back by his hair. It didn’t hurt that much but still! He worked for hours to make his hair look good!

“Police brutality! I have rights, you know!” he yelled. The cop was starting to get on his nerves.

His face was shoved back into the ground and he ate gravel, sputtering to get the pebbles and grime out of his mouth with mixed success. The taste lingered and the only way to get rid of it would be to wash it down with something—

Hmm. He hadn’t planned on feeding that night but some pig blood would take care of it nicely.

He attempted to at least think of an isolated spot to rip out his throat without getting caught. Maybe in the cop car. Maybe he could drag him to the bushes outside of the station.

Oh! If the guy stopped for doughnuts, he could steal the car—doughnuts sounded good though. A nice chocolate glaze with sprinkles or something filled with strawberry jelly! The corner store on the boulevard had the best selection this time of night. He needed more hairspray, too, as long as he was at it, a magazine or three—he shook his head.

Come on, self, get it together!

“I’m going to find the one that ran. Officer Y/LN, you take this idiot back to the car and sit tight until I get back.”

Roughly, he was hauled to his feet and he had been so focused on the tub of lard that had him on the ground that he forgot two cops had burst through the door.

He planted his feet and refused to be moved as he glanced at the second one. It was like pushing at a stone wall, the other at his back unable to shove him into motion.

Immediately, Paul realized his mistake.

Why was he so occupied with that other asshole when he could’ve been looking at you, been pressed up against you the entire time?

The saying was that everyone loved a person in uniform and Paul was no exception. You made the normally dull standard navy uniform look good, the short sleeves showing off your arms and the pants managed to cup your ass in the tastiest way.

He’d cup your ass even better, if you gave him the chance.

Even the serious, disapproving scowl on your face was hot. What he wouldn’t do to get you to make that face with you on top of him, manhandling him any which way you wanted.

Screw his little feeding plan. He was willing to spare your partner in exchange for getting to know you better.

A big happy smile stretching across his face, he finally moved, dragging your partner rather than being forced forward.

“Hey, sexy,” he said with his signature wink, the one that always got him what he wanted with people. “Name’s Paul.”

To his disappointment, you didn’t respond and merely took control of his handcuffed hands as they were passed over.

As you lead him back through the video store, he pulled his arms to the left, acting like he was trying to resist. Just like he expected, you corrected him with a strong, tight grip that sent a rush down his spine.

“Ouch, babe, not so rough,” he purred. “I’m very sensitive.”

He glanced back quick to see your reaction and his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. You still wore a straight face that gave nothing away. No clenched jaw, no embarrassed tightening of your eyes. Definitely no hint of an amused smile.  

Gods, babe. You were really testing him.

Guess he’d have to try harder.

*** 

You were new to the Santa Carla Police Department. Very new. New as in it was your first incident on your first night on patrol.

It was just your luck that you’d ended up with airhead who’d set off a whole fireworks display right outside of a crowded store, which could have serious injury, and was now trying to flirt his way out of it.

Hell—was he pouting?

For a city of its size, Santa Carla PD had a surprising number of job openings. You were new to the area, having moved because it seemed like a nice, sunny California beach town and you were in need of a change.

You didn’t have any prior experience but you’d passed all the screenings and tests and expected the job offer they made. It had benefits, the pay was good, and, importantly, it was legal which seemed to be in short supply around these parts.

That last part was a surprise, especially with the high number of missing people’s cases; you’d think that more places would be desperate to fill jobs, too.

Steering the suspect towards the check out counter, you flagged down the owner who had been the called in to the station.

He turned towards you with a smile on his face and greeted you politely. “Hello, officer.”

“We caught one suspect, sir. The other fled the scene and my partner went after him. I’ll get started on the report—are you planning to press charges?”

The smile was suddenly no where to be seen and he casted a glare at the handcuffed blonde.

“But of course. I’ve told this degenerate and the others in this gang to stay out of here a hundred times before. They’ve gone too far this time.”

The suspect merely shrugged his shoulders and winked at you which set the owner off further.

“That! That right there is what I’m talking about. No respect, no conduct. How is a father supposed to parent if he gets no respect? Maybe they’re missing a motherly influence,” he trailed off.

A motherly influence? Okaaay, then.

Clearing your throat, you tried to bring the conversation back to topic. “Yeah…Well let me put him in the car and then we can get started on the report. Have a good night, sir.”

That should’ve been the end of it but of course the blonde had to open his big mouth. “Bye daddy!”

Max’s hand came down heavy on the counter and you jostled the boy away before he managed to start a full-blown confrontation.

“You surely have a big mouth for someone who’s being arrested. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”

His head perked up and you had to really plant your weight to keep him from turning around and sending you flying into a display in the process. Definitely stronger than he looked.

You noted that piece of information just in case he tried anything else.

“Aww. Are you worried about me?” he cooed. “Don’t be. I trust you to protect me, officer.”

“Any one ever tell you that you’re ridiculous?”

“All the time,” he nodded happily.

The profile of the suspect was coming together in your mind. Clearly, he was simple.

Happy and excitable, and yes, even pretty, but simple.

There’s no way he had been the mastermind behind the firework plot; that honor was likely saved for the one who escaped. He probably hadn’t agreed to do it with malicious intent either. Unfortunately, his inability to think things through had landed him in trouble and he was your problem now.

When you got to the entryway he even tried to the door open. “After you, officer.”

With a resigned sigh, you prodded him forward. Again. Really, this guy was worse than a puppy. A puppy could eventually be trained to listen but seeing as how he was late teens/early twenties, it was doubtful he ever would.

“You said your name was Paul?”

The p in his ‘yep’ popped.

“Last name?”

“Just Paul. I wouldn’t mind getting your name though.”

There’s no way you were telling him that. He would be that much more insufferable if he knew. And try as he might to hide his full name, that would come out when you booked him at the station.

“Well, Paul. You’re being charged with public endangerment and vandalism. Under California law, those are both misdemeanor crimes so most likely—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved away your words with a flick of his head. Annoyed, you yanked on the cuffs, causing him to moan. “I do appreciate a good pair of handcuffs.”

“You—!” You had to stop yourself from calling him a little shit out loud. No one would’ve stopped you, but you felt weird about it, almost like it would come off as being unprofessional.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to bring your voice back down. “Saying crazy things is only going to make things worse for you.”

“Promise to punish me if I don’t?” Another wink was flashed at you.

It was at that point you noticed he had long lashes for a male. They fluttered like butterfly wings whenever he blinked. Except you had a job to do and really shouldn’t care about how pretty he was.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that it took you by surprise when he leaned in close. Acting on tactical instinct, you threw him against the police vehicle, his torso pressed against the hood with legs spread wide.

The position was designed to be as uncomfortable as it looked so that there was little to no chance of him bucking you off. Good.

“Need I remind you,” you said gruffly, “That you are under arrest. Don’t test me.” 

“You should most definitely frisk me,” he panted.

You sincerely hoped it was pain, and not from pleasure, but from your brief encounter with Paul, it honestly could be the latter. Your own heart was pounding in your chest as well but that was due to the adrenaline pumping through your system.

Or so you maintained.

Still, he had a point. Frisking was standard procedure to make sure the suspect was carrying anything potentially dangerous, or illegal. Hell. You were going to have to give into this particular demand, weren’t you?

Wanting to get it over with, you tried to be as fast as possible while still be thorough.

His muscles were surprisingly cold as you felt up his arms and then his back. It was summertime and when most people had problems overheating, it didn’t seem to be an issue for him.

You dreaded going anywhere near his ass but it had to be done. He even insisted on ‘helping’ by pushing his cheeks further into your hands by curving his lower back as you patted down his pants pockets.

“Check the front too. I could have anything down my pants, ya know.”

That didn’t sound suggestive at all. His flirtations were so over the top is was near comical at that point. You couldn’t let him know that though. You were the authority figure in this situation.

“Alright smart guy, the frisking is over with. And surprise, surprise there was exactly nothing in your pants.”

“You wound me, babe.” If he had use of his arms, his hand would’ve definitely been placed over his heart.  

Standing him upright, you opened the door to seat him in the back. That had been the plan any way.

One second you held his metal clad wrists firmly in your grip and in the next, he twisted himself away effortlessly.

He spread his hands apart and although they each had a shiny steel band around them, the chain that had connected them broke off with a metallic clink.

Just like that he was completely mobile and he wasted no time.

In another imperceptible move, he covered your back with his front, his breath tickling you.

You couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“It’s been a pleasure, officer, but I really should get going. I’m just too cute for jail.” He rolled his head and his nose traced the shell of your ear with a deep inhale. “This was fun though. Let’s do it again, hmm?”

He shoved you into the back seat and luckily your reflexes were fast enough to catch yourself before you face planted into the leather seat. Thrashing like mad, you spun around as fast as you could but it was no use: Paul was already gone.

Stumbling out, you looked back and forth hoping to catch a glimpse of what direction he went but it was useless. Not only was that little shit stronger than he seemed, he was also faster.

Noted.

With a sinking realization, you knew you were going to have to explain this to your partner.

Oh, you were not looking forward to this…

Worst first night on a job ever.

_______________

Hope you enjoyed Paul! I feel like this is goofy and over the top but I guess that’s basically Paul’s vibes in a nutshell. Marko has definitely gotten Paul arrested before and Max has definitely called the cops on them before too haha. Thanks for reading <3

[meryamthebadassbitch]

𝕯𝖎𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖆𝖚𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊 & 𝖈𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖘// 𝖆 𝕵𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝕵𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖐𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

Listen, bitch, is it fucking bad that I am addicted to 'Daddy Issues by the neighbourhood suddenly got a whole ass fanfic idea on my mind, so here fucking I am, thank you so much for the likes in my other disgusting fanfics and if you would like to share this one with your friend I would be happy since my mother told me if you have more than 55 likes on the next, I'll buy you a BTS t-shirt, I'm NOT FORCING YOU GUYS LOL, thank you and enjoy! oh, I'm planning on writing a Levi book on Wattpad tell me your opinion @meryamchaline45

Based on a song called: Daddy Issues

Warning: Blood, smoking, sexual harassment, daddy issues, mention of death, slight smut, harassment, Thief!Reader, Skategirl!Reader, abuse, abusive parents, parents cheating, ANGST, swearing!!

abusive parents, parents cheating, ANGST!!

(IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF, DON'T READ!! don't report this please you have been warned)

Munching the food quietly she thought of nothing but how Seoul looked beautiful at night, a small scoff escaped her lips as she paid for the delicious food, looking at her wallet sighing, no money left. Taking her skateboard she stole a cap and a mask on her way out her E/C eyes immediately wide at the sound of the cashier yelling at her with a bat in his hand about to catch, slamming the door open she ran down the stairs not looking back, the cold breeze hitting her face as she ran grabbing her skateboard she skated between the cars so the man wouldn't catch her.

Her father grabbed her harshly by the hair followed by her skateboard and bag in the other hand, throwing her out of the house in the middle of the streets, every neighbor not even daring to welcome her even though they could see the pain and fear in her E/C eyes, but worst of all they still dared to watch and film her out of the window, I know it must be rough? damn, right it is.

Jungkook was hanging out with his group as usual and it seems like they got out of the café, but stopped brutally upon noticing cops chasing a H/C haired girl and grabbed her, slamming her face harshly against the car in front of them, a wince left the girls lips as she raised her hand in the air as she yelled out some words "it's a water bottle, please !" but the cops didn't seem to care since they cuffed her and decided to take her with them, as they turned around the girl cold eyes met Jungkook's dark brown ones, and that was his opportunity to study her face, she had beautiful H/C hair which was pretty messy, S/C skin, and had blood running down her nose and a cut on the corner of her soft lips, and it seems like she got into a fight for what? a bottle of water.

Watching the scene happening in front of them he stared as one of the cops broke her skateboard in half earning a bloody scream from her. "NO! how dare you!" she yelled with rage in her eyes as she was about to attack the police officer and punch the hell out of him but couldn't since the handcuffs stopped her from doing so but still the girl fell on her knees trying so hard to grab hold of the broken skateboard.

Sitting in front of the police officer she stared into nothing but emptiness; blinking ever so slightly her throat dry and didn't even dare to ask for water, "can I leave?" she asked her voice cracking as she sat on the chair, wanting to just kill herself. Grabbing her bag, phone, and broken skateboard she walked out of the police station to the place where she usually slept, the park.

Surprisingly she got a job the next day, and that is selling some street food with an old woman, the job got pretty handy, well, at least she would have 10$ to eat something and have a single water bottle for the day and not die from hunger, packing some dumplings in the small box she grabbed one of the bags signaling to the women "I'll go take these and will be right back Ajumma?" a small smile was on her lips as she walked away holding the hot food in her hand, the aged women seemed to be caring for her and would always give her some money even though she was poor and more broke than Y/N was, but still considered her as her daughter.

Knocking at one of the doors, she could hear the sound of music blasting and laughter, smiling at the memory of her being the best dancer back at school she opened the door peaking inside, the sight of a group of boys she recognized when getting arrested she handed the pink-haired boy the bag, "Jimin-ah~ you pay this time!" said a brown-haired boy behind him with a boxy smile, Jimin slightly rolled his eyes before smiling brightly at the girl taking his wallet out, a Gucci wallet which looked expensive, not like she wanted to steal it but these boys must be rich.

Bowing one last time, she walked away making sure to thank them and have a good day, "Ajumma, no I can't take them anymore what about you, you need your medicine so keep them besides I'll be okay for one day?" she said pushing them gently with a small smile, nodded Ajumma defeated but still thanked the girl a 100 times. "it was nice working with you, Ajumma, but I think I should go to either Busan or Daegu, I can't stay here anymore or dad will find me and- you know? so I'm gonna need you to go right now to the pharmacy and buy that medicine, we worked so hard for that now go!" she said pushing her gently toward the pharmacy with a small smile, pulling her into one last hug she kissed her forehead before walking away, waving slightly one last time before continuing her 'travel' in search of some way to escape Seoul before her father takes her back once again.

Sitting beside the boy she took his cigarette from his hand throwing it on the ocean in front of her, as he was about to grab another one she threw the box on the water, "so, do you want me to teach you that this mother fucker is a killer?" she said chuckling slightly at how he hated her already for throwing his precious addiction, "anyways, I need your help?" she said out of the blue, Jungkook raised his eyebrow waiting for her to continue her words "we all know you're rich as fuck, and I need you to buy me tickets to Daegu?" listening slightly to her words he took a picture of the couple kissing inside a laundromat with his camera, nodding slowly she almost squealed but stopped upon hearing his next words "in one condition?" "and that is ?" "I'll help you sneak inside my ex-house and go inside her room, to the drawer and there will be my clothes" "fine, when?" she said agreeing with his plan.

Standing in front of his ex house, she nodded at him before starting to climb the windows and could hear the sound of him talking to that girl more like flirting, looking at the window she could see them making out on the couch she had, opening the room window she did as told opening the drawer and grabbing all his stuff, a ripped book, AirPods, music DVDs and laptop looking at the polaroid with Jungkook smiling she stuffed it inside her pocket before looking at the room one last time.

Walking down the empty road beside Jungkook she handed him her bag full of his stuff, "you give it back tomorrow, you know where to find me? stay cool." she said smiling while flicking him off, the maknae staring at the girl with a small smile, this was her way on how to say goodbye or goodnight, the boy slowly waved back taking his keys from his pocket, opening the door of the black mansion greeting his mother on the way who seemed to smile sheepishly at him "who's the girl?" "mom I just met her" Jungkook looked so done as he stared at his mother dumbfounded

Opening the wagon door she ruffled her H/C hair after doing her routine, jumping down the wagon, she closed the door making sure to lock it with padlock, walking down the road she hid behind the wall watching as the man turned around running she grabbed a croissant, hiding it inside her jacket, thank god, he didn't notice and no one seemed to be out yet this neighborhood was always empty. the girl didn't have anything to think of but only the fact that this month was rough, she would eat once a day or not for a week, the asshole of the policeman broke her skateboard her mother got her before passing away and now she's a very famous thief in Seoul, what a beautiful life?

Nah, she always thought of giving up and standing at the edge of one of these buildings surrounding her, letting her body fall and join her mother. but couldn't, she didn't want to die and also promised her mother. Cursing under her breath Y/N limped to the front door of the beautiful black mansion, the door was suddenly slammed open and a woman stood there with wide eyes full of worry, glancing at the H/C haired leg Jungkook's mother immediately pulled her in sitting the girl down, the girl on the other side was shocked 'is this the wrong house? no, I remember JK saying this is his house' she thought confused but could see him coming out of a room holding a box, the boy slowly sat in front of her and started treating her wound out of as she sat there defeated and stared at him, his black curly hair looked so soft and his perfume was just UGH ravishing.

The food in front of her immediately got her attention as she started eating fastly, Jungkook mom laughing slightly at the girl "how many days didn't you eat something delicious?" "2 months, but don't worry- I only ate ramen 2 days ago!" she said munching slightly, Jungkook could see how her E/C eyes showed hope and slight happiness whenever she's eating, the girl was shining slightly than the last time he saw her, she was about to attack a police officer for breaking her skateboard and next was her handing a bag of dumpling to Jimin.

Sitting in front of the pool they had, she slowly took Jungkook's lighter from her pocket she found back in his ex house, playing with it she wrapped his sweater around her waist to great some heat, it was freezing but she needed to clear her mind a little bit, she was thankful of them, they gave her food, treated her wounds, gave her warm comfy clothes and welcomed her to stay with them...

And how much the girl wanted to kiss their hands for that, they made her feel safe after 8 years of the trauma and problematic life she finally felt home. The sound of someone walking behind made her stop from playing with the fire, wiping her head behind she smiled slightly at Jungkook who held a blanket sitting beside her putting the cover around both their bodies suggesting for her to get closer and not be afraid.

The handsome boy slowly handed her the phone back, it was midnight, thanking him she opened her phone, 1 notification, that's odd. Frowning she looked at the boy asking whenever to do it or not, nodding at her she tapped on the notification, her dad.

-------------------------------- 𝘼𝙨𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚 🖕-------------------------------

Happy birthday Darling, you turned 19, don't worry you're still my little girl right?

Fuck you.

Dad.

Seen 00:00

Just before he could even answer her text, she blocked him and deleted his number feeling calm and free, clenching the blanket around her hand she looked away trying not to let her tears fall, not wanting to show her weak side in front of Jungkook who seemed to know the situation and reason why she was cold and wants to run away. His anger was boiling, how dare a dad do this to his daughter? tomorrow was his final day alive he swore to make him pay for what he has done to his daughter. "it's your birthday?" he asked waiting for her to answer the question or at least look at him, 'why am I feeling empty when she's like that?' he thought nudging her shoulder, nodding she looked at him straight in the eyes tears covered her orbs as she stared at him deeply, her walls breaking down as she finally let them fall after staying strong for years.

살아남아야 한다."~Namjoon BTS (방탄소년단) 화양연화

Jungkook stared at her with guilt in his eyes pulling her into his embrace the girl cried quietly in his chest letting it all out. Not even noticing she fell asleep in his arms.

Holding the notebook in her hand, she knocked on the door of his room, hearing a groan behind the door she opened it looking at Jungkook who was fixing his hair, giving him a poker face she closed the door behind looking around his room, "shit, this place is fire" "I know right?!" he said on the other side trying to tie his hair into a ponytail, chuckling slightly she walked toward him standing on her tiptoe, "give it to me" doing as told he handed her the tie, her fingers slowly trailed down his hair sending a shiver down his spine at how cold her hands are, but a small smirk raised on the corner of his lips as his playboy self started showing Jungkook suddenly turned around before she could even finish his hair, landing on top of her his leg between hers as their faces were inches away from each other, his bunny smile on his face as he innocently grinned at her as if nothing happened.

Her eyes were dull and numb, but they lit upon seeing his beautiful smile

Having an amazing plan, she wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer as she leaned in, her nose bumping his, with Jungkook staring at her parted lips not pulling away and liking the way how she pulled him closer, his lips so soft that she wanted to kiss them so badly but couldn't, twirling him around it was now her turn to smirk, she was on top of him grinning innocently while ruffling his black hair

"come on, time for dinner"

Walking down the streets of Seoul while listening to some music, she slowly walked into one of the cafes that lined up the street of Seoul. Pushing the door open the little bell at the door jingled when she walked in and the scent of coffee hit her like a truck, this café wasn't crowded and it was one of her favorites, for these past days both the teenagers got closer day by day and still couldn't open up to him yet, it was so hard. and it would be a terrible lie if she doesn't catch feelings for him. "hello, can I get an iced-americano please?" she said looking at the cashier taking out the money from her pocket she slammed it on the counter before making her way toward one of the tables, playing with the flannel shirt she burrowed from Jungkook the girl waited for her order, phone ringing she slowly answered the call

"Hello? are you fucking kidding me what has he done?!" yelled the girl hanging up, slamming the door open the girl ran down the streets

Jungkook on the other side drove in rage toward where her 'father' worked, sitting down on one of the chairs his feet tapping on the ground nervously as he glared at the ground, a man came toward him with a smirk on his face, Breathless with anger, he stood up and immediately punched the man square in the jaw he didn't care about anything at the

moment but to just make him pay for what he did to his daughter.

Dashing down the streets pushing past the people, everyone at first thought that flash just passed by them while it was just a girl running with panic in her eyes, walking inside the police station the H/C haired girl immediately pulling the boy into a hug, tears covering her E/C eyes, as she pushed the strand of hair from his face staring lovingly at him she cupped his cheek looking for any injury. Sighing she glared sharply at her father "you deserved it" she said spitting in his face one last time before walking out of the police station asking Jungkook if he was okay, driving back home in silence the girl thought 'why did he do that?'

Sitting him down she grabbed the first aid kit and some alcohol, it was now her turn to help him, "this will hurt, so grab my hand" sitting down in front of him Y/N gently pressed the cotton on the huge bruise he had in his hand not caring the fact he's hurting her hand due to the pain he felt, "I'm so sorry" she said out of nowhere not even glancing at him, wrapping the bandage around his bruised hand she tried to ignore how bad she wanted to hug him by trying to get up but Jungkook already beat her to it, with one simple fucking move. Cupping her cheek the boy pulled her back down and made her face him stopping her from moving, his hand pressing on her cheeks as his soft fingers caressed her ear sending a shiver down her spine, her legs suddenly became weak as she stared back into his doe eyes, his gorgeous orbs shining under the moonlight like a diamond in the center of a museum was everything for her

His Dior Sauvage perfume only made it worse, it was her favorite scent aside from coffee, she felt giddy and happy whenever she sees him and just want to squeeze him tight and never let go. but now it was her whole body burning like fire

"Y/N please, tell me what is going on and I promise I'll help you with anything?" he said looking at her E/C eyes back and forth still holding her cheek butterflies dancing on her stomach as she stayed silent not wanting to ruin this moment with her fucked up past, she was about to pull him into a kiss, the same feeling kicked in, she just wanted to feel his lips on hers for few seconds was is a hard thing to ask? the sound of the door slamming open made them snap out of their position and fall on the ground.

"dude..."

There stood the boys staring at them awkwardly, coughing she got up wiping her clothes from any dust making her way to her room "wait, Y/N you promised me!" "I'm sorry Tae but I don't feel like playing..." "no, you're coming now sit down" rolling her eyes annoyingly she walked back down and sat on the ground waiting for the boys to follow her movement. Watching as the bottle spun in front of her, the girl breathing hitched upon seeing the green bottle landing on her, slightly panicking she shot a look that could make the bravest of warriors scream in terror, but Tae who didn't seem to care, challenged her "Truth or dare?" "Truth" "what were you both doing when we came in?" "talking duh." her simple sarcastic answer only annoyed Tae more than he was and that made her smirk proudly 'i'm not falling for one of those plans, Taehyung' she thought raising an eyebrow at the boy who smirked back at her "then why the sexual tension, and you about to kiss him?" grin fading and eyebrow falling she stared coldly at the boy his blood running cold at the look the girl just sent him "i-i take that back" stuttered the boy still feeling her staring straight into his soul, the game continued but surprisingly it didn't land on her anymore.

Sitting on her bed, she pushed the blanket away from her cold body, opening the door slightly trying not to make a noise as possible, making sure to close it behind her before she made her way toward Jungkook's room knocking 3 times. Jungkook jolted up from his bed at the thought of Y/N and immediately ran to open the door, he was right, there she was standing slightly shivering from the cold but before he could even protest to give her something to warm up or say anything, she already pulled him toward the Kitchen, opening the fridge she slowly grabbed hold of ice cream box and two spoons, sitting beside him she stared at the clock ticking in front of her "wanna know why I always throw your cigarettes whenever I see you holding one?" she said glancing at the boy who already stared at her continuing her words "because my mother was so addicted to this fucker, sure, it revealed her stress but it also made her sick, we would always go to the rooftop and talk about anything that comes to our mind, that was until he decided to cheat on her out of nowhere and started going to clubs, she didn't find out by herself, but I did, I told her in our usual ted talk we had at night while watching the stars flicker, surprisingly my mom didn't seem to care since she already noticed his sudden behavior, so being a good mother she wanted divorce and when she told him I told her about the whole thing, of me coming home from school and seeing a bitch on top off him, he started doing it to her. Days passed and mom got weaker day by day and everything was becoming worse as she started smoking 2 packs of cigarettes a day, and I don't want to lose you too after losing my own mother" she said scoffing a little bit at the memory flashing on her mind tears covering her E/C eyes.

Jungkook on the other side listened carefully and couldn't help but to intertwine his fingers with hers, and could feel her tensed up and her hand becoming warmer and not the usual coldness, looking at her he smiled happily at the sight of her looking at the moon through the balcony with a small blush on her cheek, as he was about to pull away afraid of hurting her she grabbed his hand back planting a gentle kiss on his veiny fingers and on top of the smiley face tattoo he had.

What are they?

A couple, close friends, just friends (pack it up, Adrien). She didn't understand why is the constant hand grabbing? cupping cheeks, the almost kiss in his room, He was so kind towards her and being his usual, bad boy self in front of the others?

Why would he like her anyway? she always thought of that which only broke her more remembering the fact she's going to run away and live in Busan and not stay with him anymore, her life was so confusing, should she stay with him or move away?

"Wanna know something?" asked the boy glancing at the girl who nodded at his question "you're living with me from now on, and this is the reason why," he said pulling her toward him by the hand, picking her up easily placing her in front of him and on top of the counter, with her staring directly into his eyes and his hand on both her side, the boy gently cupped her cheek. Heat rose from Y/N's stomach to her chest and behind her back. Jungkook's lips were getting closer and her heart decided to skip a beat, she could tell he heard it since the same bad-boy smirk came back on the corner of his lips. parting her lips she felt him washing over like a wave of warmth, curling her toes, unfurling all her senses as the taste of him nearly silenced all thoughts. The boys silently watched the scene happening in front of them Jimin and Taehyung taking pictures on the other side

the feel of his frame leaning on hers as his arms wrapped around her felt nearly forbidden. He pulled her in, claiming her mouth again, hungry and intense, until her knees gave in. Sure, she was a famous thief but in moments like these she's so nervous, he was her first kiss, what if it's bad?!. Her thoughts were stopped dead when his lips were gently pressed against hers, not knowing what to do she scooted closer toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck following the steps she remembered seeing in kdramas, he puts his hand on the back of her head and reassuringly strokes her H/C hair.

Heaven.

Pulling away gently the girl chuckled "you stole my first kiss-" "-and I'll do it again" he said cutting her off again with his lips on hers, a passionate and heated kiss made her melt in his arms, it was illegal for him to make her fall in love with him more with one simple fucking move. the next movement she made drove him crazy was the way her fingers played on his curly black hair, Picking her up his hand slid under her thigh, as he walked toward her room not breaking the kiss, closing the door behind them with his foot.

Jungkook's head rested on top of hers as he played with her H/C hair, "I never told you this, but do you know how much the Dior Sauvage & cigarette scent drove me crazy whenever I smell it on the outfits, I borrowed from you?" "oh yeah? new kink developed I guess" "yeah, I guess it's my kink," she said glancing lovingly at the boy in front of her, his fingers slowly pushed the strand of hair from her face as he smiled back at her, his fingers under her chin as he pulled her into a kiss.

"I'm in love with you girl with Dior Sauvage kink, Y/N L/N "

"and I'm in love with you too cigarette addicted bad boy, Jeon Jungkook"

[mandoalorian]

Pain Is For The Living [Javier Peña x F!Reader] - Chapter 2 (SMUT)

Summary: Sex work in the heat of 1980’s Colombia was never going to be a walk in the park. Especially not when you had a crush on your number one client, agent Javier Peña. You’d been warned about him and his reputation, but after one very specific incident that would change your life forever, you find yourself attached to him like never before and you’d do anything to make him yours. Even if it means endangering your own life.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (protected p in v), allusions to sex, reader works in a brothel, PTSD, anxiety, panic attack, mention of drugs, guns, character death, typical Narcos themes.

Word count: 4000>

Pain Is For The Living Masterlist

*reblogs appreciated! Ko-Fi in bio if you want to support me!

The office was dead, like it had been for the last three weeks. No new leads. Nothing. The days dragged and honestly, it felt like the case was growing colder and colder. Escobar had gone completely off the grid, hiding out in La Catedral, his very own self-built prison in the depths of Medellín. But the DEA didn’t know that yet. So, they made an attempt to shift focus, at least just for now. After all, any narco they captured would be a win. They’d been tracing Juan Diego Diaz, otherwise known as La Quica, believing that the sicario would eventually lead them to Escobar himself. But La Quica was just as cunning as any other narco and following him was not an easy challenge. If it wasn’t for Steve Murphy, the DEA would’ve most likely shifted focus again - but Murphy and La Qucia went way back. In 1981, just a few years ago, La Quica shot dead Kevin Brady, Steve’s old partner back from Miami, and so to say that Steve had a personal feud against La Quica was an understatement.

Javier Peña didn’t realise he was about to gain a whole vendetta against him too.

Within a second, every phone in the damn embassy began to ring. Javier and his partner, Steve Murphy exchanged a glance, and their eyes trailed up to Horacio Carrillo who answered the call. “Colonel Carrillo,” he introduced himself. Javier and Steve watched as their colleague took in the information on the other end of the line. Carillo erratically gestured for a notepad and pen, and Steve quickly threw him one his way. “Wait, wait… are you sure? Are you sure you saw him? How many eyes? With another man? Who? Who?” Carillo pressed pencil to paper and began to scribble the details down. “How many dead?... Shit, okay. We’re on our way now.”

Carrillo slammed the phone down on the hook and took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face in dismay. “We got eyes on La Quica,” he announced, and Steve immediately grabbed the handgun from his desk drawer and shoved it into his jeans. The whole office cheered, apart from Javier and Steve. This was good news considering the DEA had no lead whatsoever for the past three weeks, but if Carrillo’s demeanor over the phone was anything to go by, Javier and Steve knew they shouldn’t be celebrating just yet. “No. No,” Carrillo chanted, raising his voice in order to silence the rest of the department. “Three hookers. Dead. Shot.”

Javier froze up completely as he processed the words.

“By La Quica?” Steve beckoned, his voice dripping with venom.

“We don’t know. But we have eyes on him. He was seen.”

“Where?” Javier asked finally, his face expression stone cold.

Carrillo eyed Javier up and down, swallowing a nervous lump in his throat. He knew it was the brothel that Javier frequented...and Javier Peña was quite unpredictable. So, after taking a brief moment to prepare for Javier’s reaction, Carrillo finally gave the name of the location. “Desiderio.”

Desiderio. It was the brothel where you worked. His eyes flicked over to the wallclock before his gaze met back with Carrillo’s dark eyes. He had literally been there, with you, two hours ago. If he had just gone two hours later… he could’ve put a stop to the attack. Hell, he could’ve been the one to find an arrest La Quica. But Javier’s hero complex was short lived when all he could think about was you.

“Do we have names?” Javier asked. “Who was killed?”

What if it had been you? What would Javier do then? You were younger than the other girls, polite and bright eyed. You were brand new to Colombia, and Javier swore you were too good for the dangerous life you had managed to get yourself caught up in. Being a sex worker in 1980’s Bogotá? It was only a matter of time something happened to you. 

“No names,” Carrillo confirmed. “Peña, with all due respect, I ask that you go in and investigate the scene. You know the girls better than anyone else in the department. Maybe you could identify some of the bodies.”

It was like time was frozen, and Javier felt sick to his core. Javier was used to death and bloodshed; this was a war on drugs - however, it hit different when it was close to home. When it was a place he had been, or it was people who he knew.

Javier Peña was a complicated man. He didn’t talk about himself or his feelings. Truth be told, he didn’t even let himself feel. But right now, as anger swirled in his stomach, he decided he wasn’t going to waste anytime at all. He paced back over his desk and grabbed his handgun before bolting to the car that was already waiting outside for him. All eyes followed Javier’s movements but no one dared to make a comment. Apart from Bill Stechner, of course.

“Not everyday you see the department of drug enforcement’s noted womanizer get worked up over a whorehouse shooting,” Bill commented, a smug grin playing on his lips. “Didn’t think agent Peña had it in him.”

“Shut the fuck up Bill.” Steve rolled his eyes, not even bothering to humour the CIA agent’s out-of-pocket remark. Everyone in the district knew about Javier Peña’s reputation with the ladies. But of course, you were new.

“The Search Bloc and I will go after La Quica. Steve, you stay on the down low with agent Peña and investigate the crime scene. We’ll have guards protecting you from outside the brothel.”

“I want to go after La Quica.” Steve argued but Carrillo pointed a finger.

“No. You stay with Javi. Partners,” Carrillo reminded the blonde haired man. “Besides, you’re the DEA’s best photographer.” Carrillo smirked, thrusting a Polaroid camera into Steve’s chest. Steve let out a low grumble in response, before shaking his head and following Javier out of the office. Partners. And right now, Steve saw the primal glint in Javier’s eye. Agent Peña was seeing red.

As both Javier and Steve were being transported to Desiderio, Javier made an attempt to dial a number on the carphone multiple times. Your number. Of course it was a dead line. And that only worked up Javier more. The never ending ringing sound signified that you weren’t there, and Javier’s heart was pounding against his chest. It was the same kind of adrenaline as when he found Helena tortured by Gacha’s men in Medellín. Steve knew better than to ask his friend who he was so desperately trying to call, but it was the last of his instincts to assume it was one of the sex workers from the brothel. Because renowned womanizer Javier Peña didn’t form attachments, especially not to women, right?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

At some point or another, you had passed out. Maybe you’d cried yourself to the point of exhaustion. Maybe the reality of what you had seen had hit you like a ton of bricks and you had fainted. How could you possibly know? But when Javier and Steve stormed the lobby of your workplace, you were laying on top of Rosa’s body, as still as could be. And that’s when Javier’s heart sank.

You weren’t moving, and his mind shot to the worst possible outcome. He raced over to you and fell on his knees, dragging your body off Rosa and cradling you in his arms. You were absolutely saturated in your best friends blood, and by holding you, now Javier was too. He briefly glanced down at Rosa and placed a hand on her forehead, trying to feel for any sign of warmth -  any sign of life. Javi sighed and ran his hand through his dark locks of hair before bringing it back down to you. He cooed your name a few times, desperate to earn some sort of reaction. Thankfully, on the third calling, you stirred a little, indicating that you were in fact alive.

Your perfect eyes fluttered open and in that moment, Javi swore his heart stopped. Thank God you were breathing. “You’re safe now,” Javier whispered. “I’ve got you.”

“Javi?” you asked in disbelief. Surely not. The way he was holding you was the most affectionate he’d ever been with you, and it felt like a dream. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe you were dead and this was your journey to the afterlife. God was finally giving you a chance with the one you loved so much. You said his name again, raising a shaky hand to cup his cheek. You brushed your thumb over his jaw and along his mustache, and when you smelt his familiar musky cologne, you knew you were somehow going to be okay.

Javier picked you up and carried you back to the car. “We have a survivor!”

Steve replied but to you it was just a haze. You could hardly keep your eyes open and when you did, everything was a blur. Your clothes were stuck to your skin, due to the mixture of blood, sweat and tears. You knew the second you were outside because the orange setting son burned against your skin. You stirred and mumbled, but Javier smoothed out your hair and hushed you. He opened the back seat of the DEA car and lay you down.

“Hey, hey listen, I’m DEA,” Javier whispered. “I don’t talk about it, but I’m here to help you. I need to head back inside now and help my partner out, but I won’t be long. I promise.” As Javier turned to leave, you grabbed his hand and he looked back at you.

“Please don’t go.” you sniffed, tears free falling down your cheeks.

And normally, Javier would’ve shrugged it off. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t just stick around you because you felt unsafe. They had counsellor’s back at the embassy for that. All he had to do was use the carphone and call them out. It wouldn’t take him two minutes. The only problem was, Javier didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want anyone else to hold you and comfort you. He wanted it to be him.

So, he swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and slid into the back seat next to you. He maneuvered your body so your head was resting against his jean clad lap, and he continued to smooth out your hair. Despite your red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, you were still so beautiful.

“Hermosa, what happened back there?” he asked quietly after a moment. Between you and Javier, there was never an uncomfortable silence. It was his job to find out, but asking you straight up when you were so clearly traumatized, felt insensitive. Nevertheless, what else was there to say? He had to do it sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry.” Javier mused, closing his dark brown eyes as he mourned.

“They killed Rosa,” you whispered shakily, doing your absolute best to remain composed and not fall back into an abundance of tears. Javier looked out the car window and held back a sigh. Well, he knew they killed Rosa already. “And Juliet and Martzia.”

Javier didn’t know who Juliet and Martzia were, but his heart sank at the revelation. Three deaths that could’ve been stopped.

“La Quica,” you croaked, and Javier’s head snapped to face you. “Was his name. But there were two, I think.”

La Quica… that was the name Carrillo had come up with. It was who the DEA had spent so much time looking for. But two? That was the first he’d heard of it. Carrillo and the cop department only had eyes on La Quica.

“Do you know the name of the other man? Or what he looked like?”

You did. At one point, his name rang like bells in your ears. He was friends with Rosa, or so you had thought. You knew his name… you knew his face until suddenly you didn’t. You couldn’t make sense of it or understand it, but it was like everything that happened back there had just become a fuzzy blur. It still hurt so much but… you couldn’t match actions to faces, or names to bodies. All you could see was Rosa and her sacrifice. All you could see was the way her body fell to the ground, crumpled up in a pool of her own blood. And then the screams and cries.

“Are you okay?” Javier asked due to the delay in communication. Your mouth felt dry and your fingers felt numb. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, I can take you home, but the embassy is gonna want to interview you at some point in the near future. La Quica is dangerous, and I don’t know who this other guy is but I wouldn’t feel good about bringing you back to your apartment and leaving you there. I can send over additional security measures but, listen. I know you. And,” Javier took a deep breath not sure if he was about to regret the proposal. “If you’d prefer, you can come back to my place. Stay there for a few days. High security and you’ll be with me. Someone you know. I know that, if I was you, I wouldn’t wanna be alone right now.”

And for the very first time, your pretty plush lips curled into a smile. “You’d really do that for me?” You whimpered, nuzzling your face into his shirt.

“Of course.” Javier hummed, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead.

Was it unprofessional, inviting you over to live with him for the foreseeable future, the moment you had become an essential asset to the case? Yes. Fuck yes. But Javier Peña was not someone who played by the rules. He’d done this plenty of times before, when he shouldn’t have… but it was truly the right thing to do. Besides, you weren’t like any other informants. He knew you. He cared about you, more so than he’d like to admit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were very sleepy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk all that much. Javier understood better than anyone. He helped you out the car, carried you through the embassy apartment complex, unlocked his door (albeit with great difficulty), threw his keys haphazardly on the kitchen counter and gently plopped you down on the brown leather couch. Pulled out a crocheted blanket, he wrapped it over you, ensuring your warmth. He padded into the kitchen and filled you a glass of tepid water before looking in the refrigerator. Empty. Javier didn’t cook. In fact, he rarely even ate. When he did eat, it was take-out or fast food. Something quick and easy that he didn’t have to bother with. But now he had company. He sighed, and closed the fridge, glancing back at your sleeping body. He figured he’d have to go grocery shopping.

He picked up the phone and dialled Steve’s number, but his wife, Connie was the one who picked up. “Hey Con, Steve there?”

“Yeah. But he’s pissed with you Javi.” Connie sighed on the other end of the line. Javier scowled. He understood. It seemed like he pissed off people quite easily.

“Could you put him on?”

Connie didn’t reply but judging from the scuffling, Javier assumed she was handing the phone to her husband.

“Javi,” (“Steve,”)

“What’s up?” (“I need to ask you a favour,”)

“After today’s stunt? Not a chance.” (“Y/N was a mess, Steve. One of her best friends died in the shoot-out. I wasn’t just going to leave her,”)

“Javier Peña. Ever the hero. What do you need?” (Groceries. She’s gonna be staying with me for a few days. I can use the time I spend with her to gain her trust. Try and work out what exactly went on,”)

“Javi, she’s vulnerable. She’ll need therapy. You really want to use her as an informant?” (We’ll get her therapy from the embassy. Steve, I don’t think we have any other choice.”)

“I just think it’s a bad idea, but, it’s your call Peña.” (“I’m going to head to the market before it closes. Can you or Connie come over to watch her? She’s asleep so she won’t be much trouble.”)

“We have Olivia.” (“So bring her. Or don’t. I don’t care. Steve, please.”)

Javier waited patiently through a silence followed by a long sigh. “Okay Jav, but you owe us. We’ll be over in five minutes.”

“Thanks Steve, I’ll see you soon.”

Javier put the phone down on the hook quietly and padded back over to the sofa where you slept, crouching down and taking your hand. You didn’t deserve this. You were so soft and full of life, and everytime Javier saw you at the brothel you were always beaming. You were too good for this life. He knew you’d get hurt, one of these days, but that didn’t mean it was right. And suddenly, Javier was filled with vengeance. He couldn’t bear to think how the shoot-out would come to affect you, but he knew, in that moment, he would seek justice. Too many deaths, too close to home. Javier whispered your name, his breath fanning over your ear. You were somewhere in between consciousness. You could feel his presence but everything felt so dream-like. “If you can hear me, I’m going to head to the store. Buy us some food, okay? I won’t be long, and I have friends who will be watching over you. You’ll be safe, I promise.” Javier said before pressing another kiss to your forehead. He just couldn’t resist it. You stirred upon feeling the bristle of his mustache graze your skin and he drew his face away, not wanting to wake you completely.

“Hi Liv,” Javi cooed, leaning down to Steve and Connie’s little girl and pulling a face.

“So that’s her?” Connie asked, putting Olivia down.

“Yeah,” Javier sighed, and began to introduce you.

“Why do I get the feeling that you know her?” Steve quirked an eyebrow and Javier felt his cheeks flush with heat. “Are you one of her regulars?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, I suppose I am,” Javier retorted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Con, if I’m gonna cook her dinner, what would you recommend?”

Connie stifled a laugh before turning to Steve. “Steve, you hungry? Javier’s offering to cook.”

“Hey that’s not what I meant--”

“He does owe us…” Steve smirked. “Paella sounds good.”

Fucking paella. 

“I could just bring her Taco Bell,” Javier considered out loud.

“I like paella.” Steve reiterated.

“Me too,” Connie agreed. “Paella is delicious.”

“Everyone likes paella.” Steve commented.

“Oh my god would you shut the fuck up about paella?” Javier groaned, causing Connie and Steve to laugh in unison. 

“Make her paella and bring us the leftovers,” Steve grinned, patting his friend on the shoulder. “And be quick about it.”

“Whatever, Murph.” Javier sighed, rolling his eyes before grabbing his wallet and car keys.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Seeing Nina working as the supermarket cashier was the last thing Javier expected.

“Javi?” she smiled that familiar gorgeous smile, her eyes sparkling as she scanned through the items of food. “It’s so good to see you. Been a while.” she commented, her gaze not leaving the agent’s once. 

And for the first time in a long while, Javier smiled. The stress of the stake-out and investigating the brothel, and taking you home had been a lot on him, but seeing his ex-girlfriend helped bring him back down to earth. If Nina could even be called ‘ex-girlfriend’. It wasn’t ever official, but he and Nina had been fucking on and off for around 6 months last summer and Javier was actually committed to Nina during that time. She came into his life unexpectedly, to say the least.

“How long have you worked here?” Javier charmed as he bagged the groceries.

“Two months, it’s been good to get out of the house,” Nina grinned. “You're still working for the DEA I assume?”

“Yeah.” Javier hummed, quickly reminding himself of you and the way you were sleeping on his sofa. He looked back up from the bag of rice and at Nina. Come to think of it, she resembled you quite a bit. Same hair colour, eye colour, skin tone… only she wasn’t as distinct. She didn’t have that flare about her, like you did. Maybe Javier had a type after all. 

“I get off work now,” Nina announced, flicking her wrist upright and checking the time on her watch. “Are you busy or? I was thinking… it would be nice to catch up, maybe, if you wanted.” Nina ducked her head down awkwardly.

Javier didn’t forget about you once. He didn’t forget about the fact he had a traumatized sex worker sleeping on his couch, or how he’d invited his partner and his partner’s family over to watch over you while he got ‘groceries’. But catching up with Nina would be nice. The right thing to do would be to reject Nina, and perhaps make plans to see her when Javier wasn’t so swamped with work commitments (if he could even call you that). But this was Javier Peña. He supposed Steve and Connie could wait just a little while longer, besides, they’d never find out. Javier was a good liar. He could make up some excuse about having to travel to a different grocery store or something. So, he agreed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nina’s apartment had barely changed since she and Javier had ended things. Still quaint, decorated with plants in every corner and full bookshelves. It was a clash of tongues and teeth as Nina navigated inside of her home, not pulling away from Javier once. She moaned against his lips and he grabbed onto her back, pinning her against the wall and knocking a few things off the coffee table.

“Missed this,” Javier confessed, nudging his nose against Nina. In the moment, he’d forgotten why he’d ended things in the first place. Nina wrapped her hands in Javi’s dark hair and tugged on the locks at the nape of his neck. Javier groaned wantonly and reattached his lips to hers as she let her hands maneuver down his body, unbuttoning his shirt and working at the zipper of his jeans. “Fuck Ni.”

She pulled off him and began to discard her clothes. “Bedroom Javi, I have condoms.” she hummed, taking Javier’s hand and guiding him through her apartment as if he didn’t already know the way. He’d never forgotten, really. 

This was wrong. On so many levels, this was wrong. He should be back home, with you. If anyone was to find out about this… well, Steve would be furious, for a start. But Javier genuinely couldn’t stop thinking about you. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, because if he wanted to be with you so bad he could easily just go back to his place and sit with you on the couch. The idea of that wasn’t the worst in the world. But also, he was about to get laid by Nina who looked so much like you… he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He was whipped. Thinking about your lips on his… your hands caressing his muscles. She might have resembled you, but she tasted different, her voice was different, and her attitude. She just wasn’t you. 

Once Javi was all wrapped up, he pushed into Nina, and settled deep, his movements rough and fast. He grabbed onto her tits and gave them a squeeze, but they just didn’t feel like yours. They’d do though, for now. His grunts and her moans filled the room as she chanted his name, and he could feel himself nearing orgasm. He dipped his head in the crook of her neck, biting down on her skin that just wasn’t as soft as yours, and as his dick throbbed inside of Nina, and when he reached his climax, he made the biggest mistake of all.

He gasped your name like it was the sweetest prayer to leave his lips. He was fucking Nina but shit, he said your name.

Javier Peña said your name.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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[teawaffles]

The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 3

Note: Some language.

Showers of sparks flew in all directions, fanned by blasts of hot air; amidst all that, both police officers and locals were using buckets and pots to throw water on the flames, in a strenuous bid to put out the fire.

“……Oi oi, we’ve already got a problem?” Sherlock mumbled, half in shock.

It wouldn’t be easily resolved — in an unexpected way, those words had come true. Lestrade grabbed a nearby officer by the arm.

“What the hell happened here?!”

The officer answered loudly, almost in a scream.

“A fire broke out! The building we were holding the criminal in caught fire!”

“……Jesus!”

Lestrade spat that word out, and threw himself into the firefighting effort right away.

“I’ll help too! Someone give me water!”

A split second later, Sherlock also moved to help. He took a bucket of water from the man closest to him — but the moment he saw his face, he stopped.

“……Gregson?” [1]

The man — Assistant Inspector Gregson — widened his eyes in shock.

“Holmes! You bastard — why’re you here?!”

As a famous detective, Sherlock often disregarded the police when solving his cases; Gregson could never stand the sight of him, and so it was no wonder he’d raised his voice. However, having grown accustomed to that enmity, Sherlock spoke quickly in response.

“Lestrade called me in himself. Anyway, were you the one sent to secure the other fugitive?”

Gregson waved the question away, as if he was in a terrible gloom.

“Dammit, quit yammering! Let’s talk about the details later! Our priority now’s to put out the fire!”

Saying that, he rushed off to draw more water. It was a reasonable point, so Sherlock refrained from pursuing the matter. Still, he found Gregson’s unusually impatient manner strange.

The quick arrest of the first fugitive. The burning building. And Assistant Inspector Gregson.

From all the elements that had presented themselves at this stage, Sherlock Holmes was certain that this case would be a tough one.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Roughly five hours after Sherlock and Lestrade arrived at the scene, the fire had finally been extinguished.

Having given their all in putting out the fire, the volunteer firefighters were now sitting on the roads as they caught their breath. But the building had been reduced to nothing more than a charred skeleton — it had completely burnt down. A heap of blackened wood lay on the ground where it once stood; within it, tiny embers still smouldered away, and thin trails of smoke wafted into the air. It was still too dangerous to enter the site, but as a small blessing amidst this misfortune, the adjacent buildings had been left largely unscathed, with only their outer walls scorched by the flames.

“……It feels like one job’s been completed, but the real work starts here, huh.”

A worn-out Sherlock muttered to himself, having already shed his jacket. Then, the familiar voice of his partner rang out in his mind.

“Sherlock. Isn’t it too convenient for a fire to break out at this time? If the fugitive they were interrogating had been caught in the blaze……”

——I know. But first, let’s remain calm, and listen to what they have to say.

He answered John in his heart, then walked over to Lestrade, who was conferring with another officer a short distance away. It seemed he was in the middle of asking the other officer what had happened.

“O—y, Lestrade. Did you find anything useful?”

“Yeah: it seems it’s going to be a while before we can inspect the scene, but from my subordinate’s report, I’ve gotten the details of what happened before this. I’ll explain.”

Saying that, Lestrade began to narrate the sequence of events, and Sherlock listened in silence.

From what he’d heard from his subordinate, the building was a cheap old three-storey inn built from wood. After searching the interior based on the tip-off, they quickly found and arrested one of the fugitives. After which, in order to find the location of the other criminal, they immediately brought the arrested man to a room and began to interrogate him.

“Where’s the room located?”

Sherlock cut in, and Lestrade looked up at the spot where the room had likely once stood.

“It was at the end of the second floor — the one the man himself had rented. Each floor had three rooms: taking the ground floor as an example, the room numbers had been assigned as 101, 102 and 103. ” [2]

“So the one at the end of the second floor would be number 303. Did all the officers storm the room together?”

“No; out of the ten men who arrived first, five of them entered the building while the other five stood by in the vicinity. Among the five who entered, two were questioning the man in room 303, one stood watch outside the room, while the remaining two stood in the ground and first floor corridors respectively, observing the movements of the guests in the inn.”

Listening to the breakdown of the officers’ positions, Sherlock looked at the ruins of the building as they lay heaped on the ground.

“If the building was only this large, leaving five people outside would be enough…… But why have men stationed on each floor at the corridors?”

“The other fugitive might’ve been hiding in the building, so they wanted to interview the guests and ascertain their backgrounds. However, it seems the innkeeper detests the Yard: they allowed us to question the fugitive, but refused to let us to visit the other rooms, insisting it would bother the guests. So the officers had no choice but to quietly stand watch in the corridors.”

Having realised yet again the animosity in the slums towards the police, Lestrade sighed, and Sherlock nodded in reply.

“From the start, the source of the information had been an anonymous tip-off, which is　suspicious. The story up to that point was that the police arrived here half in doubt, then actually found the criminal — from that alone, it would’ve been difficult to insist on advancing the investigation any further.”

Sherlock understood the bind the officers had found themselves in back then. He continued.

“During the interrogation, they did check everyone who entered and left the inn, didn’t they?”

“Of course. But I didn’t receive any reports about any suspicious characters.”

“Okay. I’ve got the deployment of the officers at the time; please continue.”

The arrested fugitive had been surprisingly stubborn, and refused to utter a word about the other man’s whereabouts. At that rate, the officers had judged that they were getting nowhere, and left the room for a short break. Their strategy had been to give the man time to relax, then force him into a state of tension once again, in order to strain his mental state.

In addition, by this time, the locals had gotten wind of the Yard’s presence. They’d begun to gather around the inn and create a commotion: the atmosphere had turned bleak. In order to avoid the situation escalating into a riot, out of the five officers in the building, four went outside to appeal to them to remain calm.

Just like this, the fugitive had been left alone in the room. The man had been made to sit in a wooden chair that had been furnished as part of the room, with each of his hands cuffed to the chair’s armrests. The only entry point to the room — the door — had one officer standing guard in front of it. Moreover, even if he were to leave by the window opposite the door, as the room was on the second floor, he couldn’t simply escape by jumping out. With these conditions in place, the officers had thought that there was no chance of him escaping.

——In fact, that line of thought had held true. The criminal had not escaped; rather, he had been murdered inside the room.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Five minutes after their break had started. In the vicinity of the inn, something odd had arisen. Complaints and jeers had suddenly turned into shrieks and screams. The lone police officer who’d remained in the building thought it strange, and immediately after, someone yelled “Fire!”.

He went downstairs to see for himself: true enough, flames were rising up from the ground floor. The officer rushed to spread the word to everyone in the building, directing them to evacuate. Of course, he then went to release the man handcuffed in room 303, but the door couldn’t open: it had been locked from the inside.

At this point, Sherlock placed a hand under his chin as he muttered.

“If he had been bound to a chair, then even with his hands cuffed to the armrests, he would still be able to move around the room. If it’d been a bed, depending on the size of it, he might still be able to move. The man could’ve locked the door from the inside, but…… By the way, was it really locked? And not that the door had been warped and gotten stuck, or something?”

“It seems that much was certain: I understood he tried many times, but found the door locked from within.”

“I see. Sorry, I’ve been interrupting you quite a bit.”

“No, I don’t mind……. After that, the officer peeked into the room via the keyhole. And then, inside the room, he saw something he would never have imagined.”

From Lestrade’s tone, Sherlock was fairly certain what had happened in there.

“The room was locked from the inside, and the man lay dead within it……?”

It seemed his prediction had been spot on: startled, Lestrade stared at him, then muttered “Yeah” in a sombre tone as he continued.

——From the keyhole, the officer saw the man lying prone on the floor while still cuffed to the chair. His back had been soaked in a red substance akin to blood, and he showed absolutely no sign of movement. Amidst the commotion from the fire, it was as if time had stood still for him alone.

Panicked, the officer rammed the door in a bid to break it down. But no matter how many times he slammed himself against it, the door merely creaked, showing no signs of opening. Apparently, the innkeeper had taken precautions to prevent the police from entering the rooms without their permission — it seemed the doors had been robustly built. Making matters worse, his fellow officers were desperately engaged in fighting the fire, as well as evacuating the surrounding residents: they had no leeway to come to the second floor and help.

After that, the officer kept trying to break the door open. But the fire swept through the wooden building, and soon, the flames had reached the floor right beneath him. Inside the room, the man remained motionless. After a further struggle, the police officer gave up on rescuing him, and ensured that there was no one else left in the building as he made his escape.

That was the gist of how the inn had been burnt to the ground.

“…………”

A sudden fire. A room with its door firmly shut. And a man who’d collapsed in a prone position.

Having listened till the end of the story, Sherlock replayed the situation back then in his head. In his heart, he cracked a wry smile.

The search for a fugitive had turned into a locked-room case.

T/N: It’s a proper mystery this time!! I quite like this one :3

Footnotes:

[1] Gregson first appeared in Chapter 8 (“A Study in ‘S’, Act 2") after Lestrade arrested Sherlock on suspicion of Count Drebber’s murder. This is his first panel:

(Taken from the official translation of Volume 2)

[2] Similar to Story 1, I’ll be using the British way of referring to building levels (i.e. ground floor, first floor, second floor).

[littlefreya]

The Kitten & The Bear - Part 2

Read Part 1

Summary: Walter’s bratty wife has gotten herself in trouble with the law. meaning her own husband. 

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC (first person pov)

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Bratty behaviour, dominant BDE husband, abuse of power, arrest, bondage, teasing, grinding, loads of sexual innuendo, mentions of oral, promiscuous behavior, fingering, lewd and dirty talk, manum sasquatch Walter.  

A/N: So both Marti and I were so anxious you guys won’t like it and we were literally overwhelmed by the amazing reception, so thank you so much guys! As promised, here is part 2! The thickens plot! Reminding you this is a collab between @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ and I based on your role play game. 

Title: The Kitten & the Bear

With the alcohol flushing through my veins, mingled with the sheer exhilaration of anger, I became more daring than ever.

“I think you are just scared because we both know you are never going to tame me.”

With the harsh grip of Walter's arm, I was yanked from the hood, turned and forced to look at his face.

"Do I look like I'm enjoying it?" It resonated in his mind that he was going to have to take his own wife, whom he'd just arrested, to the precinct where everyone knows him. 

'For fuck's sake!' This may jeopardise his career at MPD. A detective having a wife with a police record... 

'Fucking great'.

It's one thing that I acted like a brat at home, but that was his workplace, where he'd have to take me - looking like that. 

His cock twitched as he looked at my dress again.

~~~

Colder than the air itself, the deprived energy in Walter's cerulean gaze cut like diamonds. There was a battle in his glassy cold stare, and I recognised that furious desire, being the only person who really knew Walter Marshall. His hand was still on my wrists, pressing the cuffs hard against the small of my back and my thighs slightly parted as he stood too close.

I trembled and not just from the chilling cold. "If you are asking for my sincere opinion, then yes, I think you are, by the look of it," I answered and gandered down his groin and back at his face, giving him a bitchy grin. "I strictly remember ending with your head between my thighs last time I wore this dress" I provoked. "Hold on to that memory, it's going to be a while." 

Walter cocked his head to the side, pretending to think about my ultimatum, before suddenly stepping closer to haul me flush against him. I felt not only the warmth of the bulge at his groin but the cold hard outline of his gun against my stomach. I gasped as he leant close to my face and his lips hovered over mine while he ground his hips against me. 

A moan escaped me when he suddenly pulled back.

"Don't make threats you can't keep. Your little cunt is always hungry for attention."

Keylah and Stephanie exchanged astonished glares between them as they watched the heated battle. I continued to frown, trying to remain stoic, but the creeping chill made me tremble as the freezing metal of the car pressed against the back of my knees.

His obliviousness to how cold I was, the way he was treating me and his words only further fuelled my anger. I was like an unleashed hellcat, unable to stop my own stupid mouth.

"Don't test me. Both you and I know how clingy you are Mr. "promise-me-you'll-never-leave-me." I spat back his own words to him. Words he blurted out in a vulnerable moment the night before while he was making sweet, intimate, passionate love to me. 

It really was a low blow from my side.

Walter felt like his stomach got headbutted by an angry bull when my cruel words registered. The previous night he found me at home with the entrance door unlocked while I'd been blasting music. He had an exceptionally shitty day as a criminal who abducted a woman from her own home had to be set free for lack of enough evidence against him.

The fight that followed between us culminated in passionate makeup sex. He asked to be handcuffed to the headboard so that he wouldn't unleash all his desperate anger and accidentally hurt me. In an especially vulnerable moment, he begged me never to leave him, not for what he does nor for who he is. 

And here I was, throwing it back to his face.

"Fucking bitch," he hissed so only I could hear it. I gasped as I could see the exact moment Walter transformed back from my husband to the cop who responded to the crime scene. As if he suddenly needed to hide behind the mask of a stoic, invulnerable officer.

Without another statement, he grabbed one of my forearms, dragged me to the open back door of the car and tossed me inside. My upper body landed on Keylah's lap while he circled the car, got in the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Pig!" I shouted at him as Keylah helped me adjust and deliberately pushed me to sit in the middle seat so I could stare at him during the ride to the station. I leaned back, looking at him through the rearview mirror. He was not staring back, keeping his forbearing eyes on the road.

"Sooooo…" Stephanie uttered, "Magnum, is it really 10 inches?"

Walter just glared at Stephanie but provided no answer. After a moment's pondering, he threw a glance at me through the mirror, and drew one of his brows up, challenging me to answer Steph.

I crooked my eyebrow back at him, spreading my legs to show him the red silk panties I wore beneath my dress. 

"Well you know, it's basically a cock that has a man attached to it." 

Keylah snorted and shook her head with disbelief, "No fucking way she is that lucky, I call bullshit, sorry Walter." 

Again Walter didn't reply to her, just straightened in his seat a little and cocked his chin forward, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. If his whole demeanour wouldn't have answered Steph's question, it was my blush, visible even in the dark backseat, that made it clear that Walter's big dick energy did not end with the energy. Both girls gasped. 

"Fuck, bitch!" Keylah squealed, and they both started giggling while I remained silent as the blush permeated to my chest. 

"But what I want to know is if the police baton's thick too," Stephanie added and stared at me. I remained quiet for a moment, spreading my legs further for him to see the sticky patch at the apex of my body. Between every street lamp, the light danced over the backseat, illuminating the girls and me.

"Look at him," I finally uttered, "everything is thick and girthy, especially his skull".

The girls howled with excitement.

My lewd reference to Walter's size and girth made the corner of his mouth twitch almost unnoticeably as he was watching the road with an unbearably cocky expression. His eyes then ventured to the rearview mirror. Immediately they widened, and his face hardened simultaneously when he noticed the little dark spot on my panties between my spread legs. He instantly turned his head back to the road and switched the radio on. 

I could see the little twitching muscle in his cheek, his jaw straining as he noticed me spreading my legs. The fact that the gals wouldn't shut up about his cock and began making jokes didn't help either. I squirmed slightly on the leather seat and bit my lip, letting him see what he can't have. 

"Magnum, I bet you are one of them who likes it when she gags on your big fat cock."

"Steph, I'm sitting right here!" I called out. "You can just ask me, and I'll tell you how deep he likes to go!"

"I bet, Jen has a broken cervix, that's why she takes a lot of days off from work," Keylah laughed. "Detective Walter Marshall, cervix destroyer." 

Losing all patience Walter slammed the break, and we scrambled forward against the partition.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALL THREE OF YOU!" His eyes were blazing as he turned his head back and looked at us between the two front seats. "Do you even understand you're going to a holding cell?" 

But before Keylah or Steph could blurt out some snarky comment, I breathed out "Yes, sir", which immediately short-circuited Walter's mind. He was the one yelling for silence, yet I quieted him with two syllables. He bit both his lips, turned back and started driving again.

The girls glared at one another, shivering, unable to hide the twinge of exhilaration from Walter's alpha behaviour and how it broke me into submission. On any other day, I'd have told them to back off from my man, but we all knew it was prohibited to speak right now.

The rest of the drive to the station passed in lingering silence. Keylah brushed and fixed my hair carefully while I glared at Walter - half angry, half lustful and utterly missing my husband. Still, my ego prevented me from showing any emotion other than rage. 

As he finally parked the car, I looked at the giant stuffed bear next to him. Still rather intoxicated I whispered to the girls "there are two of them."

~~~

After Walter parked the car, he remained seated for a couple of seconds. The reference that he was my big bear sent little tendrils of softness straight into his heart at a most inconvenient moment and looking at me through the mirror he only started to realise that I will be exposed at the police station. 

Care, duty and the desire to discipline me were warring inside of him.

"Keylah, Stephanie, get out and give us a minute" he orders the girls. 

~~~

The girls opened the doors from each side. They quietly exited the police car, giving me a sympathetic look and standing outside, hugging themselves from the cold of the night. I kept quiet, looking at Walter and waiting for him to speak while chewing the inside of my cheeks.

 It was then that I realised how painful my wrists were with the cuffs around them. I wanted to go home, I hated him right now. 

Walter sensed my hatred and distress and opened his mouth to speak, "The better you'll behave, the quicker this will be over." 

He waited for a response, but I said nothing, so he drew his brows. "If you decide to behave yourself, I'll take off your handcuffs right now, and you can retain a shred of dignity at my workplace." Still nothing. "So the way this will go down depends entirely on you." 

My legs began to jump anxiously while I kept gnawing at the soft tissue of my mouth until it began hurting, "you proved your point, Walter, I want to go home now," I answered with irritation, feeling completely helpless. He gave a heavy sigh and lowered his gaze to the red slutty pumps around my feet, 

"This wouldn't have happened if…" I began speaking.

Forcing his eyes from my red shoes and mouth-watering legs, Walter interrupted me by shooting me a hard look, "...if you hadn't vandalised the store. Don't even try shifting the blame."

He got out, stepped to the back seat door, leaned in and pulled me out. I stood on wobbly legs when he gave me one last chance. "I ask again. Can you behave yourself enough to go in without handcuffs?"

His sheer hulking height and his broad shoulders dwarfed me. Even with these heels, I was puny compared to him. But then again, Walter was known as the largest guy in town. Visibly shaking, my legs almost bucked down as he looked at my face anticipating an answer. What agitated and excited me most was how professional he remained.

"I'm not going to run or hurt anyone," I said matter-of-factly. "I'm still your wife, not some criminal in case you forgot." I looked away from him, indicating that I was hurt by his mistreatment, wrongly thinking I deserved special treatment.

"I haven't forgotten that you're my wife," Walter retorted. 

How could he ever? 

Taking out a small key from his pocket, he turned me to uncuff my wrists and continued behind me, "But as far as this whole ordeal is concerned, tonight you are first and foremost a person in custody, and I'm the arresting cop, so behave accordingly."

His words and the sensation of his fingers around my wrists made my entire skin tingle and become riddled with goosebumps. For whatever reason other than him being my husband, I was longing for him despite my anger and how degrading this situation was, perhaps even because of it.

"Yes, Sir", I answered coldly, my eyes floating to the dark sky before he guided me toward him and our eyes met fiercely. 

The way our gaze clashed made time stop. He could see the scared longing in my glare, and I could see for the first time tonight his inner conflict.

I didn't have time to further contemplate this because Walter's hand shot out, grabbed my nape and pulled me close to a devastating kiss. He drew my head so that my ear almost touched his mouth so he could whisper, "It's going to be alright, my little wild cat."

Both Stephanie and Keylah gasped behind us and then whispered between them, giggling like cheerleaders. 

My chest was nearly empty as I looked up to his gaze, my lips swollen with need. It became very apparent that we hadn't touched one another for the last 24 hours and fuck, I just wanted more. No matter how aggravated and humiliated I felt, I wanted my big grizzly bear to touch me. 

He spun me around to lead me in. My legs almost failed me. It was cold, I was shaken from the kiss, and the last thing I needed was all his colleagues seeing me like this. 

Walter headed into the building followed by us. It provided a very comical scene as I insisted that Walter bring the teddy bear in for me. When we entered the bullpen, everyone got quiet seeing the big scary cop with a huge stuffed bear under an arm, surrounded by the three dolled up, tipsy babes. 

The sergeant blurted out "What the hell?"

I beamed at him "Hey, Sarge. How's Sue? We came to party!"

"No, they didn't." Walter cut in angrily as everyone was ogling me.

I couldn't help but smile and wink at all the guys, behaving as if this was nothing but a show, while both Stephanie and Keylah snickered seeing all the baffled looks. It was as if the moment we had an audience, we regressed into thinking we owned the place, marching past Walter as if he was our guard dog rather than our captor.

I flung my hair from side to side, snapping my heels and swaying my hips to emphasise the curve of my ass. I could feel the shift in Walter's demeanour, and I suddenly paused and bent over in front of him, pretending to fix the strap of my heel so he could get a good look of my ass.

"What's going on?" the sarge asked amused and Walter had to blink fast to drag his eyes off my slutty pose.

"They are the perps of the store vandalism." 

Everyone's jaw dropped, but I shrugged innocently.

"I just wanted a teddy bear," I pouted.

Having had enough, Walter grabbed my upper arm and signalled to the girls to follow us to a desk.

"You want some coffee, ladies?" Toby asked with literal heart eyes.

"They are NOT guests." Walter hissed, but I answered sweetly, "Milk, no sugar, please."

He pushed me down on the chair, and by the firmness of his grip, I knew he was forcing himself to be as gentle as possible. My ass hit the hard plastic with a small huff, and I giggled at the smack.

"Don't move!" Walter grunted as he went to get the paperwork. Obviously, the girls and I began whispering between us, giving Walter sneaky glances and then chuckling loudly.

Not understanding Walter's message, Toby came along with a hearty cup of coffee, handing it to me.

"You're a saint," I thanked him and took a gulp, groaning as the liquid hit the back of my throat. "That's a really great tie, Toby," I then added and got up to lean forward on the desk, grabbing his tie and examining it up close.

I knew every single guy at the station was currently staring at my ass, whether they wanted to or not. It took me back to prom year when every guy in school had wanted to get a piece of me, and none of them had a flying chance. I couldn't deny I loved the attention, especially after having none of it all day long as my husband was acting more like a cop than a lover. 

Walter marched back to the desk, ordering the lovestruck Toby to fill out the reports of Keylah and Steph, and dragged me away. 

The officer at fingerprinting jumped as a huge sasquatch of a detective kicked the door open and marched in, dragging a smirking babe with him. 

"C-can I he-"

"I'll handle it. Get out" Walter barked at him. The guy scurried away, and Walter sat me down, circling the fingerprinting station. I watched mesmerised as he silently, methodically prepared the ink pad.

Intimidation struck the chords of my heart as I watched my husband being completely efficient and professional. I was impressed, having met him when he'd already been in the police force I never had a chance to see this part of his life. It's something he always kept away from me, afraid it would terrify me.

Well, I was terrified indeed, and the fact that he was actually going through with the entire process made me tremble.

"Can we drop the act?" I asked when there was no audience left. I crossed my legs together and folded my arms around my chest defensively, "or are you keen on putting your wife behind bars as well, so no one but you gets to have her?"  

Walter's nostrils flared, but he simply said "It's not an act. Charges will be brought against you. My guess is parole or community service," he explained as he pressed my fingers on the ink pad and then on the respective brackets on the paper one by one.

My lips trembled as the information sank in and I jumped up from the chair just as Walter finished with my left pinky. 

"I don't want it! Neither parole nor community service!" I burst out, "You're my husband!" my voice hitched, "Do something!"

I looked at the stern, unimpressed glare he was giving me and then frowned as he simply rolled his eyes at me. But of course, what made me think I was the first person to beg him not to charge them? 

"Sit. Down." He answered calmly while I stood infuriated and shook my head with protest.

"You have the very power to make these charges go away! You are doing this on purpose!" I pointed my ink-stained finger at him and started stomping my feet in the ground. 

"What if I'll march right out of this room? You going to throw me into a cell, Walter? Oh oh, excuse me, Office Marshall, SIR!" I slurred with disrespect.

"I don't know what you mean by "this", but the only thing I'm doing on purpose is my fucking job", Walter said in a menacingly low voice. "And yes, if you march out of this room without my permission as arresting officer, I am obligated to throw you in a cell." He leaned back in his chair and stared in my eyes with unflinching confidence.

"You gonna throw me in a cell!? Your wife!?" I cocked my eyebrow at him daringly. "You sure about that?" I stretched up and straightened my dress, pulling the hem down over my thigh as it kept riding up.

Walter tilted his head unimpressed, his brows rising as if he was waiting to see if I was really willing to risk challenging both his authority and power. 

"I'd think of the consequences if I were you!" I spat out and turned on my heels and snapped at the door, opening it wide open and stepping outside courageously. 

I walked out of the room and started running in the empty hallway, my heels clicking loud. It didn't even take me ten steps when Walter's body pressed to my back, pushing me against the wall. He turned me toward him, and by the time I understood what was going on, he put back the handcuffs on my hands in the front. He then dragged me to the interrogation room's anteroom where people were working. 

Walter didn't stop at the sight of them, he took me to the interrogation room where one wall was a one-way mirror. 

"WALTER!!!" I shrieked, panting with both shock and effort while he hauled me by my nape and forced me down on the chair, making the metal chair hit me hard on the ass. 

Adrenaline surged through me, my breasts rose up and down in the cleave of my tight dress.

"Are you fucking out of your fucking mind?!" I screamed at him and then peered at the mirror, realising everyone could see us. "If you don't take me home now I will never speak to you again!" 

Walter refused to be baited. Stepping out to the anteroom, he shut the door behind him so that I won't hear what he was saying to them. The officers gawked at him. "Get out", he said in a low voice, and they jumped and rushed out. 

Unbeknownst to me, Walter locked the anteroom's door with a flick of his wrist, making sure no one would disturb us, then he turned back and marched in. He circled the desk and sat on the edge, one of his thighs almost touching me. My glossy eyes rounded up as I stared at him. 

"That's enough," he said in a low voice as if there were still someone watching through the mirror. 

I looked at the mirror frightened, thinking of the audience who sat there before redirecting my gaze to Walter. My heart was racing so badly I could feel it in my ears. 

"Walter, I swear I'm not going to speak to you ever again" I fumed. He was giving me a condescending look and fuck, he was too attractive when he was angry and pumped of authority. I couldn't help but clench my thighs beneath the desk.

Walter ignored the pang I caused him by blackmailing him with our relationship as he watched the top of my thighs rubbing together. He hardened his face, stood up and walked back to the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

He said nothing but I got inspired by his arousingly hard look. Glancing at the mirror behind where the cops were watching, I decided that the only way to get to that thick cop brain of his is causing a scandal that will force him to take me home.

Taking a deep breath, I regained my forces and tried to appear as strong as I could. An opposing force to his absolute control of the situation.

"Do your colleagues know you stalk your wife?" I asked him, my voice dropping lower, my eyes cutting into his like daggers. Walter gave an unimpressed glare, slightly shaking his head at me.

"Tell them, Walter," I spread my legs wider only for him to see my striking red panties again as I angled my pelvis to give him a better glimpse. "Tell your friends at work what a sick, controlling perv you are, following me like the guys you arrest." 

Walter put his elbows and forearms down on the desk interlocking his fingers, and leaning forward, his burly shoulders appearing even more intimidating. 

"I could tell them", he said in a calm voice, "but they'd see that the way you're behaving totally justifies it."

He knew exactly what I needed. I needed to be put in my place, but not by the cop. 

By the husband.

He made a show of glancing down my soaked panties, and he licked his lips, not entirely an act. I WAS delectable for him.

"The way I'm behaving?…" 

Fury simmered in my veins, my breath short and slightly heavy as Walter not only kept his cool but also visibly exhibited his raw sexual desire. It did nothing but made me want to grind myself on the chair.  

I shifted involuntarily, spreading my thighs even wider in a primal invitation for him to conquer my defenceless offering. I was like a soft little rabbit caged in a room with a big hungry wolf, and his hunger was for more than just food.

"How exactly am I behaving, detective?" I drawled, challenging him, unwilling to back down.

Walter shifted his eyes from my face to my spread legs, then looked back in my eyes. At the same time, he leaned back against the back-rest of the chair, arms crossed on his chest, his lax pose, implying that he was completely comfortable with what he was about to say.

"Like an attention-seeking, cock hungry whore," he stated in an even tone.

His words hit me like a slap on the face, whatever decency I had left was completely lost to me right now. I pushed myself up from the chair, causing it to fall behind me with a sharp echo. 

"Excuse me?!" I called out angrily, holding my cuffed fists against my chest, knuckles white with tension. 

"YOU ARE THE ONE ACTING LIKE A PERV STALKING ME AND MY FRIENDS!!!" I shouted and looked at the mirror, trying to peer through the people sitting in the room. 

"Yeah, you hear me? This is the man who should be under arrest!" 

Not thinking twice I climbed onto the desk and marched toward him, peeling my dress up my thighs, exposing myself above his face. 

"Tell them, tell them how much of a big fucking pervert you are, sitting in the dark and stalking women. Did you jack off in the patrol car thinking about this all night long?"

When I finished shouting and just stood on the desk panting, he slowly stood up, turned around and walked to the door. My heart dropped thinking he was leaving me here, but Walter only went to look the door. The clicking sound reverberated in my core, causing a spike of fear and adrenaline in me. 

He walked back to the desk, and quick as lightning, grabbed my hip and thigh and yanked me down. His powerful arms braced the impact so it won't hurt me, but the air was knocked out of my lungs. 

I was lying on the desk, knees drawn up, while Walter leaned above me, one of his palms on the desk next to my waist, the other grabbing one of my knees, and slowly trailing up on my thigh with an ominous caress.

"Now that you've informed them about what kind of man I am, I don't need to hold back, now do I?" he drawled, the hand reaching the apex of my thigh and his thumb sweeping against the wet fabric of my panties. 

The world turned black for a moment as the initial shock took over. My body was spasming with fear and as I regained my control over my muscles again my eyes floated to the huge windowed mirror.

A terrible chill coursed through me as I saw him hovering above me in our reflection. All big and burly, my protective husband looked like nothing but a large predator while I was his helpless victim, and the thought that people were watching us and not doing anything to stop him was horrifying.

His thumb caressed over my covered mount, making my whimper and shaking my head with protest.

"Stop…" I called out, my voice puny and weak as my lungs gave in. I held my cuffed wrists to my chest and stared at him begging. "Stop, they're watching, Walter!"

"You kept on throwing at me that you are my wife, demanding special treatment here," he said coldly as he grabbed the chain of my handcuffs, yanked it over my head and slammed it down to the table, forcing me to stretch my arms and arch my back meanwhile his other hand pulled the line of my wet panties aside, and to my utter horror and forbidden excitement he slowly, very slowly pushed a long thick finger inside me. 

"How's that for special treatment?" he drawled in a dark, lustful voice.

"Walter!!" I whispered urgently, shuddering across the desk while my body unwillingly pressed further into his finger by natural, primal instincts. My face rested to the side, and I glared at the mirror again. "Walter, please, don't! They're watching us!"

I was at a complete loss of power, bound, defeated, knowing very well he could do whatever he wanted, and I wouldn't even have a fighting chance. My body was taken captive by the forbidden desire, and I did all I could to mentally fight him. I tried to close my thighs around his arm and desperately kicked my legs while shooting my glossy gaze back at him. 

Walter pulled his finger out, causing my pelvis to lift as my pussy mourned the loss. He reached over my torso and pushed his wet finger in my mouth, pressing down my tongue with it, forcing me to taste myself. 

"Let them watch," he growled. He pulled his digit out and licked my wetness and saliva off it. He let go of the chain, and I pulled my arms back to my chest as I watched him sit down on his chair, pull my panties down and stuff it in his pocket. 

"Ready?"

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Kakashi Week- Day 2: Hatake Legacy/Au

My Father's Son

Words: 2662

AU: Mafia Au

@kakashiweek

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Mention of Sakumo's Death

Every time there was someone in need of rescuing from the precinct, without fail, Shikaku sent Kakashi. Even though he had an entire gang full of people that he could use, he always chose to send Kakashi.

Whether it was because Kakashi was able to make even the most seasoned cop tremble at the mere sight of him, or because he was somehow also able to smooth talk his way out of any sort of trouble he was faced with, he wasn’t quite sure. If he had an answer, he’d do something to fix it. To get Shikaku to send someone else, anyone else.

Just not him.

Climbing off of his motorcycle, he headed straight for the police station. As he made his way up the stairs, police officers who had been chatting to each other while watching him from afar scrambled to get out of his way. Desperate to put as much distance between them and Shikaku’s ‘Scarecrow’.

It was these moments that made these stupid little trips worth it. Seeing just how his reputation had bled into every corner of the city, and straight into the souls of cops. The people who would usually stand tall and proud, confident in their freedom to do as they please with the law supporting their actions.

“Pathetic,” he huffed, using his shoulder to shove the door open and stepping into a building that was all too familiar to him. Not just because of all the visits he had made in the past two years to pick up those unfortunate members of Shikaku’s gang who had been picked up by the cops. Sometimes because they had actually done something wrong, and sometimes just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was his job to find out which one it was today. If he had to drag an idiot out of there and scold them for getting caught, or if he was going to have to argue with a cop or two about why they actually weren’t allowed to just arrest someone and throw them into a cell for existing in a public space.

“Look who’s back,” A familiar redhead moved in front of him, her finger poking deep into his chest as she looked at him through the motorcycle helmet that he still wore. “You know the rules. No helmets on when you’re in the building.”

Swatting her hand away, Kakashi huffed. “And you know that I’m not taking it off,” he reminded her. “Can we stop wasting time, Kushina-San? You know I’m here to pick up the man you whisked off of the street in front of the coffee shop on 156th. I’d appreciate if we skipped the argument today and you just handed him over.”

“Mmm, sorry Can’t do that,” Crossing her arms over her chest, Kushina smirked up at him. “See, we actually have evidence on this one. His fingerprints were all over the knife we found at a crime scene a few days ago and…”

“Do you have enough proof for a conviction?”

“I…what?”

“You heard the question,” matching her stance, Kakashi watched as she narrowed her eyes. “Do you have enough proof for a conviction? If not, then you might as well release him. We all know you’re not going to find the proof.”

Kushina opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but before she could get a single word out a hand came down on her shoulder. Pulling both of their attention to the smiling blond now standing at her side. “Now, I think that’s a rather unfair assumption, but it doesn’t matter,” Minato responded with his usual cool demeanour. An attitude fitting a Police chief. “We can’t just release a suspect to you because you walk in here looking intimidating, Scarecrow-san.”

It was always interesting hearing the ‘San’ after his nickname. Like the Chief of Police was trying to show him some respect, even knowing that he was a member of Shikaku’s gang and a feared name among other gangs.

“And why can’t you?” he asked, dropping his hands to his side and resting the right hand on his hip. “If you have solid evidence against him, I’ll just bring him back.”

“And you think that’s enough?” Minato chuckled. “The word of a man that half of my officers would love to see behind bars?”

“Are you saying that you don’t trust me, Minato-san? I’m hurt. I thought we were starting to build a trusting, open relationship,” The sarcasm is so thick that he’s pretty sure even the dumbest cop in the room could hear it. “What if I give you my word? If you can actually produce evidence to prove he did something wrong, I’ll bring him back myself.”

After all, what use was a person if they weren’t careful enough to clean up after themselves? If what Kushina was saying was true, the bastard was already in trouble for leaving behind a knife with his prints. There’s no way that Yamato approved him for the big jobs before making sure he learned not to be a careless idiot.

“Again, that’s just words,” Minato sighed. “I have no proof that you’ll keep your word. For all I know, you’ll get him out of here and immediately transfer him far away so that we never see him again.”

Proof. That was a hard thing to come up with on the spot, and there was no doubt that Minato knew that. That he was counting on his failure to produce the kind of proof that would work for him. Something that would actually give him even the tiniest bit of trust in the man standing in front of him.

Glancing over the Police Chief's shoulder, Kakashi focused on the wall on the other side of the room. There, for everyone to see, a fine selection of pictures on display. Past chiefs that had done their duty and retired. Spending the rest of their days in a comfy home with family surrounding them until they finally died of old age. Each of them dressed up in their best uniform with a smile on their face and a proud look in their eyes.

Though there was one picture that stood out among them all.

It didn’t stand out because of the way the Police Chief looked in the picture. For any random passerby, he was the same as every other picture on the wall. A proud man doing his duty, protecting the city that he loved so much.

Behind the smile though, there was a story that only a few knew. One of a life cut short with bullets and blood. Of a child standing over his father’s body, blood staining his tiny fingers as he cried for help.

A story that was known among the officers of this station. Whispered among each other as they stared upon the child sitting outside of his father’s office waiting for someone to come pick him up. To claim guardianship over a boy who had lost everything, and had no one.

“I have proof,” he spoke softly, his hand leaving his hip and coming up to undo the buckle under his helmet. The room around him suddenly went quiet, all eyes turning towards him as he undid the buckle. Even Kushina had her full attention on him now, eyes wide as she watched him grab the underside of his helmet.

As he pulled the helmet off, his hair fell free. The long silver ponytail falling against his back was met with gasps, and as the helmet slides off he can feel the tension in the air. Thick enough that he’s certain he could cut it if he felt the urge.

“S-scarecrow…” Opening his eyes, he met Minato’s gaze. A soft smile on his face that looked nothing like the one in the picture. A smile he had been told many times growing up resembled his mother more than anyone. “I-“

“I think you know that’s the wrong name,” He offered, sunken eyes focused on the police chief. “Though, I guess you wouldn’t know any better, hmm?”

Scanning the room, he focused on one of the many cops that had been so afraid of him moments ago. Watching him with cautious eyes as he made his way into the station, and never letting him out of his sight.

“Ahhh, you’ll know it,” he smiled at the older man, chuckling when his words were met with stuttered confusion. “Come on, don’t tell me you forgot. It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

Twenty years. It would make sense if they had forgotten his name, it wasn’t like they had ever cared to remember it even when he made daily trips to the station before his father took him to his school. Most of them would simply pat his head and smile down at him, perhaps offering him a cup of water or a treat while he waited outside of the office while his father quickly sorted out his day.

“K-Kakashi.”

He was actually surprised to hear his name being spoken. Not just because someone managed to remember it, but because of who it was who had spoken it. Out of everyone in the room, he didn’t expect to hear his name from Kushina of all people.

“Kushina, how…”

Taking a step back, Kushina narrowed her eyes. Taking a moment to examine the silver-haired man standing in front of her. Almost as if she didn’t believe that he was real. “When we first started here people always talked about Chief Sakumo and his son,” she explained. “I heard so much about them that I got curious and decided to check out his old files. It didn’t take long to find information on the Chief’s death.”

Rolling his shoulders, Kakashi tried to force himself not to clench his jaw. To keep that same relaxed appearance he always had when he was in front of people. The last thing he wanted to do was show weakness.

To allow anyone in the room to know just how much it hurt, being reminded of his father’s end.

“You were listed as missing, presumed dead,” she growled. “You vanished from foster care when you were twelve.”

“I got bored,” he stated. “There was nothing interesting going on in that place, and the schools weren’t any better. What was I supposed to do? Hang around and become a cop like you?” his mouth burned when he spoke. Anger boiling inside of him. “I wasn’t going to sit around and wait to become another body on the floor.”

“And you think this is the escape you need from that?” Kushina bit back, taking a step forward and poking him in the chest. “You think that this is the life your old man would want for you?”

“Don’t-“

“Afraid of the truth?” She growled, swatting Minato’s hand away when he tried to grab her shoulder. “Scared to face the fact that you turned into the exact type of person your father would be ashamed of? The type of person who made him a body on the floor!?”

Calm shattered.

For the first time in years, Kakashi felt the anger he worked so hard to keep hidden deep inside of himself boiling over. Breaking through the calm facade that the ‘Scarecrow’ was so well known for.

Now wasn’t the time for anger though. The last thing he wanted to do was give Kushina and Minato a reason to put him behind bars. He had worked too hard to get where he was. Struggled and fought too much for his anger to be his downfall.

Taking a step back, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

One

The memories flooded his mind. His father’s smile, the way he’d put a hand in his hair and mess it up, the sound of his laughter. Memories Kakashi had tried so hard to bury. The ones that were better to forget.

Two

His heart beat slowed. Returning to a steady pace and easing the pain in his chest caused by the vibe grip that was his anger.

Three

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” He spoke calmly, opening his eyes to meet Kushina’s gaze. The anger still boiling deep inside of him. Fighting to get out even as he tried to push it back down into hiding. “He’s not here.”

Four

“You can’t seriously-“

“Kushina.”

` Five

Finally the anger gave in, allowing him to shove it back into that small corner of his soul where it always sat, waiting for him to find a quiet deserted place to let it out.

“What my father would have wanted for me holds no weight over my life,” he continued. “He’s dead. He has been dead since I was a kid, and if anyone in this room had wanted me to have a different path perhaps they would have done something about it themselves.”

Eyes darting around the room, he watched as every single cop diverted their gaze away from him. Shame evident in all of their eyes.

“Now, I believe the issue we were talking about was my trustworthiness,” he continued, finally meeting Minato’s gaze once again. “You said you needed proof that I would keep my word. Do you have that proof now?”

Bright blue eyes stared at him, only breaking eye contact long enough to flick back towards the picture of Hatake Sakumo hanging on the wall before returning. “Alright.”

“What!?” Kushina spun around to face Minato, her eyes wide with surprise. “You can’t be serious. Minato if he leaves we’ll never see him again!”

Sighing, Kakashi directed his attention back to the red-head. “I told you, didn’t I? If you find any substantial evidence against him, I’ll bring him back myself.”

“There’s no reason we have to trust you,” She snapped. “You’re a thug, Scarecrow.”

Hearing his nickname being used once again, Kakashi sighed.

“I am also the Son of Hatake Sakumo,” he stated firmly. “Regardless of what you think of me, that fact will always stand above all others. And as much as I hate every single coward in this room-“ murmured protests filled the station. Words of anger and aggravation spoken just low enough that Kakashi could barely make them out. “I will never disrespect my father so much as to lie to the person who took his job.”

Kushina’s mouth hung open, no words leaving her lips for the first time since he had walked through the door. For once, Kakashi had managed to stun her into silence, and the feeling that came from that knowledge was beautiful.

When all was said and done, he was going to enjoy bugging her about this moment for years to come.

“Fine,” straightening herself up, she met Kakashi’s eye. “I’ll hold you to that.”

A challenge. He could handle that.

“You know how to get hold of me if you do end up finding anything, right?” Watching as Minato signalled to one of the other cops, Kakashi allowed his eyes to wander over. Lingering on the officer as he made his way towards the back where all of the cells were. “Of course, if you’re having trouble contacting me you can always stop at my favourite Coffee shop. I could always do with a free cup while you’re proving his guilt to me.”

As if the last five minutes didn’t exist, vanishing into distant memory, Kushina squared off on him once again and started arguing about ‘not buying gang members coffee’ and ‘having better things to do’

Statements that Kakashi knew were bold-faced lies. Kushina would buy him a coffee even while complaining about him being a cheap bastard and saying she had better things to spend her money on, and as much as she refused to admit it she would love every second of it.

Because if Kushina didn’t have him to challenge her, she’d be bored. They both knew that even if they would never say it out loud.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Creation”

Happy Saturday, everyone! Oh man, oh man, oh man. I think I'll need to steer clear of the general RWBY tags this week, simply because I know the sort of responses I'll see to this episode. From smug celebration at Ironwood's downfall, to bad takes about what makes us human, this episode is a petri dish of sensitive material handled insensitively.

Let’s unpack it, shall we? 

We open on an action that feels like a summery of the last three volumes: a grimm attacks an airship from the front, no doubt killing its pilot, while the other grimm conveniently ignore our heroes, no masking in sight. The group looks a little sad at the destruction around them, but ultimately ignore it because they have bigger, heroic things to do. I could write a whole, additional essay on how the huntsmen code — to protect the people — has been warped and abandoned by our protagonists in their effort to do what they think is right. It's a tale that might have been compelling if only RT knew they were writing it.

We get a shot of Atlas drones unloading the bomb before one is taken out, presumably by Qrow and Robyn. Segueing to Ironwood and the Ace Ops, they're waiting for Penny to arrive, the former carrying a massive gun presumably capable of capturing her. Despite the horror we saw on their faces last episode at the realization that Ironwood would kill Marrow for speaking up, it seems that now the Ace Ops are entirely in agreement with these measures. A week ago the implication was that they fell back in line out of fear, but now Harriet talks passionately about "putting down" the group if they were stupid enough to accompany Penny. "The General gave his terms." Vine sighs at this, but doesn't actively disagree. He's just "retracing the steps that led us here."

So, congratulations on introducing four new characters, not bothering to develop any of them, killing one off while ignoring Qrow's hand in that, and having the other three become all, "Yeah! Mass murder is a perfect solution!" off screen. Marrow is the only one with something resembling development and, as covered in these recaps, that's been pretty badly executed too.

Ironwood sends them to deal with Robyn and Qrow after Winter reappears to "assist" him. That gets quotation marks because most viewers at this point have realized that she's who our two birbs spotted in the elevator. Winter isn't on Ironwood's side anymore, she's just skillfully clearing the field for the final attack. Indeed, we get a moment where she hesitantly brings up the bomb and Ironwood responds that he hopes she's not going to try and talk him out of it. No. Winter doesn't think that's possible. This was her final attempt at peace.

One of the reasons why I think I'll stick to my own blog for a while is because the fandom has a tendency to paint broad personality traits as evil when applied to some characters, yet simultaneously heroic when applied to others, when really it's about how that those traits are used. What I mean is, I've seen a lot of Ironwood critical posts that emphasize how stubborn he is. He thinks he's right and he won't back down. He wont listen to others. He's going through with this plan and if anyone tries to stop him? That's their mistake. Totally evil, right? Except, this is the exact same behavior Ruby displays, particularly in Volumes 6 and 7. She was stubborn about stealing from Argus and continuing the fight to the point where it endangered her and her teammates, to say nothing of the rest of the city. She refused to listen to Qrow, or Ironwood, or the Ace Ops, loudly announcing that she was right about, well, everything. If they didn't agree with her, the options were to leave the group entirely, or fight her. The actual difference here is that the writers have taken Ironwood to an extreme, one that's incredibly easy to understand as bad because it is bad: bombing Mantle has no defense. Ruby pulls the exact same nonsense, it's just not to that same extreme and her actions are followed by scenes that are meant to make us forgive her: a sad look because she didn't mean to get a city attacked by a leviathan grimm, a cry on the staircase because she didn't mean to risk the lives of an entire kingdom... even though she did. Ironwood is the bad guy because he's been written to take specific, OOC actions like shooting unarmed kids. He's not the bad guy because when other characters go, "Don't do this" his response is, "I have to." Because that's been Ruby's motto ever since she "had" to use the Lamp to rip Ozpin’s life story away. RWBY introduced those extreme actions of shooting the youngest in the group (for no reason) and threatening to bomb a city (for no reason) or shooting a councilman (for no reason) because when you remove those you've got a man who looks exactly like our hero. Ironwood's arc has been peppered with these confusing, unpersuasive actions because if you just keep the story as him stubbornly keeping to a plan he thinks will save the world, you're left with the reminder that all Ruby has done lately is stubbornly keep to plans she thinks will save the world. This moment with Winter just highlights how ill thought out Ironwood's descent has been because he does everything Ruby does... with a few, tacked on, “and randomly shoots people!” moments to ensure we understand that he’s definitely evil. No comparison to our heroes here, folks! 

Ironwood is a bad guy now. That’s certain, but he was made that way so the story never had to grapple with the question of what that means for Ruby if we really start condemning things like lying, secrets, stubbornness, or endangering others for the greater good. Well then damn, if we strip away the hypocrisy then she might not be a good person after all. Or the people she’s simplistically labeled as bad might not be the devils Ruby claims they are. 

But that’s a level of nuance RWBY would rather pretend doesn’t exist. 

All of which is highlighted by Ironwood’s reaction to "Penny." He sighs and sags over the gun, immediately putting it aside. With his hand on her shoulder, Ironwood tells her she's "done the right thing." Precisely the same way Ruby would lower Crescent Rose and give someone a smile when they decided to fall in line with her.

Which, of course, is the moment when Emerald reveals herself, dispelling the Penny illusion and revealing Team JNPR The Second behind her. She gives a quip about it feeling "weird" to do the right thing before disappearing.

From there the action picks up fast. I really enjoyed this battle simply from a choreography and energy standpoint. It gets the blood pumping, Ironwood's hand-to-hand is spectacular — especially that moment against Ren — and the group actually displays teamwork for the first time in what feels like forever, all of them needed to land a hit on Ironwood. As always, out of the context of the rest of the show it feels and looks great. My primary issue is that we get this fantastic fight against Ironwood. Not Salem, not Cinder, not Watts (like last volume when Ironwood was still a hero), not even Emerald as a means of transitioning from murderous villain to the group's best bud. No, what's arguably the best action sequence in the volume thus far goes to beating up the guy they betrayed from the start. There's no catharsis for me here, only frustration as we watch Ironwood stand in shock as Winter powers up Nora — who's fine now, I guess — and she slams her hammer into his face. 

It never should have come to this and when a good character is done so dirty, their downfall doesn't evoke the emotions the writers are looking for. Watching Ironwood fall doesn't generate feelings of victory, or even tragedy at a course of events others were powerless to stop. It's just frustration at watching years worth of bad writing, sprinkled with fantastic ideas that never go anywhere.

Oscar gets a few hits in, Ironwood snatches his cane, and just as he's about to throw a punch, Winter arrives with the most dramatic sword slash I've ever seen.

Ironwood's aura breaks and he falls, unconscious. We cut to an image of a droid's head separated from its body, one of Robyn's arrows through its skull. That doesn't have meaning or anything.

I suppose I should be grateful they didn't rip Ironwood's arm away during the fight, or outright kill him, though I'm still expecting him to die before the end of the volume.

Hmm. Wouldn't that be something? If after Salem's arrival, freezing cold, a Hound attack, grimm soup, a giant whale, a massive army, and a hack ending in self-destruction, the one character who actually dies is Ironwood. 

It's looking more and more likely.

Honestly, beyond all the obvious, what's so frustrating about this fight is that characters are only now using their impressive abilities to their fullest. Emerald creates an entire fantasy of what's happening and then straight up disappears, but she only does a half-assed version of that when fighting against Penny. (And really, she put more effort into helping the heroes she just joined over Cinder, the woman she's been obsessed with since the start?) Marrow refuses to use "Stay" against a group they wanted to peacefully arrest because that's just too horrible an act, I guess, but he'll do it on his own teammates the second Qrow and Robyn don’t want to fight.  

This is what I mean when I say the rules of the world bend to assist the protagonists in absurd ways. It's not nearly as egregious as Amity suddenly being up and running, but the fact that characters become substantially more powerful while fighting for the protagonists than they do against them is still a significant problem.

So Ironwood is down and out. As much as I hated watching that and didn't necessarily want more, am I the only one who felt like it was... a bit lackluster? I mean, the action was great, yes, but relatively short. There was no dialogue, such as another delve into the moral questions that led to this fight in the first place. There certainly wasn’t any hesitance against fighting a former ally. (Again, we’re meant to believe that the Ace Ops won because they just couldn’t bear to fight the group seriously, but every former ally here is capable of wailing on Ironwood without a single pause or pained look?) Ironwood just skillfully blocks for a while, is blindsided by Winter's betrayal, and then falls unconscious. Given that we learn he and Jacques will be evacuated after the rest of the kingdom, it's possible he'll escape somehow and we'll get a fight 2.0, but if not that feels like a rather tame end to the guy forced into the antagonist seat. Plus, what was the point of having Qrow frothing at the mouth to kill him this whole volume? I never wanted that to happen, I'm glad it hasn't, but I'm nevertheless left to ask why we bothered with that eleven episode side plot if we were going to erase it with one sentence from Robyn about Qrow being better than this. If that's all it took, let them work through Qrow's irrational anger while sitting around in a cell.

Winter tells the group to move onto "phase two" which is when we're treated to a flashback. We return to the ending of the last episode, with Ruby realizing that opening the vault is an option. Jaune, all smiles, goes, "We never considered using what's inside!"

This is what I mean about no consequences! This is what I mean about it all being a meaningless circle that ends with undeserved praise for the group! We started this horror show with Ironwood going, "We don't have a plan to protect the people, so I'm going to take what people we do have to safety" and the group going, "We don't have a plan either, but we're going to stop you implementing your plan because it's not perfect, risking a kingdom's worth of lives in the process." Now, the group has used two plans, one of which two characters knew about at the start and another they could have devised with the information they had. Oscar and Ozpin's, "We have an all powerful magical blast in our cane" and the group's "What if we used the Staff for something other than raising Atlas?" are both things that could have come up in the office debate. These were both always on the table! Instead, Ruby grew furious over the mere thought of cutting their losses, betrayed Ironwood again, attacked his people, denounced him to the world, and then two days later goes, "Oh wait! We could do something now that we could have easily done before if we hadn't made a needless enemy!" 

Everyone realizes how much worse they made things, right? Turning against Ironwood, bringing everyone left in Mantle directly under Atlas, sitting around while an army was devoured, drawing it out until Penny was hacked... all of it would have been avoided if the group had thought and discussed things for a few minutes, not jumping straight to violently resisting what Ironwood came up with first. "We never considered..." Ruby says. Yeah, you didn't, except that's not something to smile about. The group made the situation a thousand times worse with their reaction when they could have just magically evacuated the kingdom from the start. “Maybe we could use it to save Penny and get everyone in Atlas and Mantle back to safety." Nothing has changed! They had this ability the whole time! Nothing about the last twelve episodes led them here, they just randomly thought of it after RT had padded the volume with needless drama. Considering that they're heading to Vacuo now, we could have just made this the finale of Volume 7 instead: big fight with Ironwood, revelation, get everyone  evacuated while Salem attacks, leave her behind, then Volume 8 begins in Vacuo with the group knowing Salem is out there looking for them. This entire volume has been pointless. What did they accomplish?

Oscar got kidnapped and beat up, Nora was scarred, Ruby and Yang realized horrible things about Summer, and the whole world is panicking about a witch. Good things are... Ren and Ruby unlocked some semblance stuff? Weiss loves her brother again after he proved himself useful to her? Great work, team.

So this one moment makes everything they've done up to this point useless and, of course, once thought up the plan goes off without a hitch. Note that the summary of this episode says, "It's risky, dangerous, and nearly impossible — but it's the only plan they've got." Nearly impossible? That's a whole lot of talk for a plan that was implemented perfectly.

There is, admittedly, one snag, but one that is likewise made meaningless just seconds later. We'll get to that.

We see Winter call Weiss who also smiles at hearing from her sister. Obviously interactions like the group's with Emerald are the bigger concern, but it's still an issue that no one reacts as they should to people reappearing in their lives. Rather, RWBY continually confuses audience knowledge with character knowledge. We know Winter is on their side now, but Weiss hasn't a clue. Last she saw, she and Winter were agreeing to head down different paths. She has no reason to think her sister isn't loyal to Ironwood, so why isn't the group treating this call with suspicion? What if it's Ironwood trying to mess with them through a presumably safe party? I swear to god, with any consistency in the story this group would be dead ten times over because their decisions are so stupid. Oscar decides to believe in the guy currently beating him to a pulp, the group decides to trust a villain over a flawed ally, and now they see Ironwood’s second calling and are like, “Great, big sister Winter is checking in!” There’s a difference between a hopeful story filled with second chances and characters whose reliance on the narrative bending to assist them makes them come across as insanely naive. 

None of which even touches on characters forgetting that other characters are presumably dead. Ironwood shot Oscar off the edge of Atlas, but doesn't react to learning he was kidnapped, or when he shows up to the fight. Thanks to Marrow's comment, Winter thinks YJOR have perished in the whale, but also has no reaction to them appearing to help with this plan. Absolutely nothing is followed up on.

We then get a flashback within the flashback (fun) of Winter — shock — not arresting Marrow. It's precisely as I assumed, with Marrow angrily asking why she hit him and Winter responding with, “Because you were about to get killed if I didn’t do something!” As I said last recap, I feel like I should let the marginalized groups lead this discussion, but I do want to add that no matter how well intentioned — or strategic, as I mentioned last time — the imagery itself is still harmful. No matter the context, we were still left with white woman Winter putting her knee on black man Marrow's back to arrest him, and it’s an image that everyone in the U.S. should be familiar with the horror of. Far more of a problem than the (presumed) ignorance of this scene is, I think, the choice to make Winter entirely unrepentant. I think some of this discomfort could have been alleviated if RT had written Winter as apologetic, contrite that it came to that and asking Marrow to understand that she only did it as a means of assisting him. Asking his forgiveness. Instead, we get this

So what, the only emotion we have room for is gratitude that Winter beat him up? Yikes.

As a lighter side note, I find the animation here unintentionally hilarious. Winter's assistive device makes her shoulders look too high, making this gesture more, "Woman exaggeratedly pouts about not getting ice cream for dinner" and less, "Woman sternly closes off during a disagreement about saving lives and betraying their general." Gotta find our humor where we can, right?

What's intentional, but far less funny, is the needless animation to show us that, yes, Marrow is peering at Winter calling Weiss. Oh, the shenanigans. 

The elevator opens where Qrow and Robyn spot them. "Speaking of help," Winter says, as if she has any reason to believe Qrow didn't kill Clover. He and Robyn lower their weapons a bit, as if they have any reason to believe Winter and Marrow aren't still loyal to Ironwood. Would it really be so hard to have Winter immediately throw up her hands in the face of their almost-attack, blurting that she's not their enemy and needs their help, please listen? Again, RWBY can't remember which characters know what, let alone what their motivations and reactions should be.

We then enter the third part of the flashback where everyone piles into the Schnee dining room and discusses doing the things they could have done from the start. I'm metaphorically banging my head against that table. In RWBY's favor though, we also get a long shot of Jaune continuing to boost Penny’s aura.

Though it's only one of many issues, just the other day I asked, "Hey, why has Jaune always needed to hold onto the person he's assisting, but now suddenly he can touch Penny once and the boost remains?" It still doesn't explain why he was letting go before/why him needing to boost her continuously didn't put a hard time limit on their plan — not that Mantle's hour limit meant a thing — but at least they're showing more of that here.

Oscar notes that Atlas has enough gravity dust that it won't fall immediately when they use the Relic, but they will have to move fast to ensure no one is underneath. Yeah, like all the civilians you put there. He also cautions that the Staff isn't a "magic wand" that they can just wave to make all their problems go away... even though that's precisely what they're going to do. Ozpin gets some lines that aren't apologies or followed by attacks — hallelujah! — about how the Staff's spirit is a "character" and requires that you be able to precisely explain anything you want him to make. Blueprints, examples, a firm knowledge of how this will be accomplished — all of it is required to actually get what you're after. That's a cool limitation. It's just too bad we didn't know about it episodes ago, forcing our heroes to find ways to meet those requirements. Instead, they already have everything ready to go the moment they learn about it: Penny has her own schematics and Whitley apparently has knowledge of the entire kingdom after sending some ships out. Normally I'd go, "Really?" but I'm still just struck by how much good he's done compared to everyone else in this room. Your show is seriously broken when the side character the writers didn't even want the audience to like until a few episodes ago is more active, mature, and sensible than the heroes.

From there we see the group implementing the plan. They fly up through the hole Oscar left, straight to the vault. Penny opens it without any trouble and Ruby uses her speed to grab the Relic and stop time, halting her self-termination. I do like that combination of skill and their knowledge of how this magic works. That felt like a smart move. What's interesting though is that the Relic appears to stop time in the entire kingdom. We see people in Mantle and Atlas slowing to a halt too. I assume no one remembers that happening after time restarts, otherwise people would be freaked out by suddenly being frozen in place.

Wouldn't that have been cool though? The group often takes a while to use the Relics, either deciding what they need, or watching Jinn's information, so what if you had a population that blinks and suddenly, from their perspective, half an hour has passed? How long might Ozpin have sat on his knees after Jinn told him he wasn't able to defeat Salem? How long was that space frozen? We could have had a world built around rumors and fairy tales. Not the random stories Ozpin brings up to make a point and that we never hear about again, but tiny details that foreshadow these revelations. A Beacon where the kids tell each other spooky stories of people suddenly losing time, once a whole day. The wives, sisters, daughters, and nieces who disappear, or wake up one day with horrifying, unnatural powers. We see magic influence the world around it, but we've seen very little of the world reacting to that influence. The one time I can think of is Blake reading a book about "a man with two souls," the fiction clearly inspired by knowledge of Ozpin. And indeed, it felt great to recognize that as a significant detail and then be proven right years later as the lore was revealed. We could have gotten so much more of that if RWBY was better planned out.

I'm getting off track though. As time stops we see a series of images: Ironwood being led to a cell with Jacques, Penny succumbing to her hack, Team JNPR The Second preparing to contact the kingdom about what's going on. Then everyone is distracted by the giant, blue, buff Ambrosius who comes out of the Staff.

...there's a lot of innuendo in that last statement lol. At least RWBY is committed to the crazy design they chose? I was never particularly comfortable with the image of characters gaping up at a giant, naked woman in chains, so it's nice to balance that a bit with an equally giant, naked dude in chains.

From here things get confusing. In all honesty, I'm not sure if this is another moment where RWBY is trying to pass off a retcon as the group being brilliant, or if I, as an individual, simply didn't follow the logic. I won't bother to rehash the slow, meandering way that Ruby reveals their plan — that certainly didn't help with the clarity. Not in an episode where we didn’t even know these rules ahead of time — but it boils down to this:

The moment they have Ambrosius create something new Atlas will start to fall. Two of his creations can't exist at the same time.

He needs clear instructions about what he's making in order to create it.

The group has brought him Penny's schematics so that he understands how she's built.

They want, specifically, "a new version of her... using her exact robot parts."  

They can't just create an exact duplicate of Penny because that would carry the virus with it.

They can't create an exact duplicate without the virus because that Penny would cease to exist as soon as they used Ambrosius to make an evacuation plan instead.

So they essentially want Ambrosius to create a new Penny by removing all the robot parts from the Penny that currently exists, carrying the virus with them, and leaving only the human parts of Penny behind: her aura/soul. Then, the purely robot version is destroyed when Ambrosius creates something new.

Except... this new Penny, this human Penny, still needed a human body. That's what Ambrosius created and that's the snag I don't understand. They want a version of Penny that's just her aura, just her soul, but that soul still needs something to be housed in. Ambrosius himself notes that. At first I thought the group would just have some wisp-like version of Penny they'd have to find a new body for — perhaps leading to a new one for Ozpin too — but she's just... given a human body when he takes the technology away, something she absolutely didn't have before. That is Ambrosius' creation. That is what should have disappeared along with the removed parts of Penny, leaving only her soul — what Ambrosius didn't touch — behind. Instead, the plot oh so conveniently has Penny get a new body for free and it's untouched as they move onto the next task.

Ruby drops a casual line about Ambrosius not being able to kill, or destroy, or something, which I think is meant to be the justification here. The rule (which, again, we JUST learned) about not killing anyone supersedes the rule of two creations not allowed to exist, allowing Penny to stick around. But even if that’s true, it’s a load of bull. What, does the magic think no one in an entire city might die if the floating mechanism is removed and it plummets to the ground? Ambrosius didn’t say, “Sorry, can’t stop floating Atlas because thousands of people are still here and they’ll die if I create something new,” but we’re supposed to believe the group skated by on, “Sorry, can’t destroy the last creation like everything else because there’s a single person still using that body and she’ll die if I create something new”? 

Seriously, did I miss something? Or is this another, "Amity is ready because the group needs it" situation? The rule of creations ceasing to exist is bent because the group needs to have their friend around. Ambrosius is certainly enthusiastically complimentary, saying how "smart" the group is and that they've "done their homework," but I'm not so sure. It feels like a moment where the show is (once again) insistent that the group is far more talented and brilliant than their actions actually imply. It's only the rules of the world twisting and turning that allows for their success. To say nothing of how the episode dropped all these rules on the viewer in a ten minute info dump, ensuring we didn’t have any time to think about them before the deed was done. 

It doesn't add up for me and honestly, even putting that aside? I hate this. I absolutely despise it. Look, if it turns out this really does make sense then props to the group for coming up with that plan. Our snag aside, the rest is a legitimately well thought out wish. I don't have a problem with the execution so much as the message. I've been saying since Volume 7 that RWBY has done Penny a disservice in terms of her "real girl" narrative. Whereas before we had a firm message that you don't need "squishy guts" to be human, to be real, Volume 8 continued to carry us further and further into the idea that it is necessary. That Penny's body is entirely inhuman, something to hate, but at least her soul is human and good. That's what the virus arc taught us: your terrible, technological body might be betraying you, but hold onto the parts of you that are really human. I hated that too, but I never thought RWBY would go this far. They made Penny fully human and went, “THIS is the version that always should have existed.”

And this isn't just me reading into the implications. It's right there in the text. Blake says that they're looking for “Penny, the girl who’s always been there underneath." Meaning, underneath the metal. The girl exists trapped in the robot body. Yang holds up her arm and says that the metal is only "extra," it's not really who you are. 

That gets into two perspectives on disability that RWBY just doesn't have the nuance for: what's an integral and celebratory part of one person's existence can be seen as something separate and discomforting to another. Though there are many people with disabilities who would happily cure themselves with a magic Staff if given the chance, there are just as many who say no, this is a part of my identity. I don't want to change, I just want the world to accommodate my existence. However, RWBY takes a hard stance here, saying that any metal in your body is intrinsically bad. We didn’t use to have this take, but now the show has embraced it. Blake says the real Penny is trapped in there. Yang's words implies that she'd get rid of this "extra" bit of her if possible. Mercury with his metal legs is the enemy. Ironwood with half his metal body is the enemy. Whereas once difference was truly accepted, now it's shunned and fixed whenever possible. Those who can't be fixed, like Yang, must simply deal with the lot they've been dealt, reassuring themselves that the metal isn't really them. But Penny? Penny they can fix.

So they do and the very first thing Penny does is hug Ruby, exclaiming, “Do hugs always make you feel this warm inside? Wow. More!” and proceeds to hug all the others. 

What's the underlying message there? Penny didn't understand hugs before this moment. She never experienced the "warmth" of them while an android, despite the fact that here warmth is entirely metaphorical and has nothing to do with a literally cold body. RWBY really went and said that the "real girl” android was never actually real at all — not as real as she could be — because it's only when she's given "squishy guts" that she understands the true happiness of a hug.

Wow.

I mean seriously, wow. 

Never-mind that, you know, we've seen that happiness and warmth since she was first introduced.

RWBY is really rewriting all the core themes introduced in Volumes 1-3 and it sucks. The show is absolutely the worse for it.

To say nothing of all the other disservices to Penny's character here. There's all this buildup about whether she'll still be the same Penny once the wish is complete, but of course she is. We wouldn't want to have Penny struggle when she becomes something other than what she's always been, would we? After all, it took Yang an entire volume to work through the shock of a metal arm, but taking away a metal body for a human one is in no way traumatic. Having a normal, human body is intrinsically a good thing! Of course Penny accepts it with nothing but smiles. Becoming human is celebratory, but becoming more machine is a horror.

She gets to watch her body self-destruct, glitching out and collapsing in front of her. But again, nothing to unpack there that can't be covered with a hand over her mouth.

There's no discussion of whether Penny still has the Maiden powers, or whether a wish like that would mess with the transfer in any way. How did the group know this action wouldn't register as a clear-cut death, forcing the power out of her and into someone new? Obviously they couldn’t know, but no one even thought to bring it up? 

And the entire time they're formulating their evacuation plan, there's no talk of whether these portals will appear before everyone currently alive in the kingdom. I mean, if they do then Ironwood and Jacques can just waltz through and escape into Vacuo. If they don’t, then Maria and Pietro don't necessarily have a way out. We still don't know if they're stuck floating in Amity, or if Amity crashed, or if they made their way back to Mantle or Atlas. More importantly, the characters don't know. I have no problem with RWBY keeping that a surprise until the finale, but I absolutely take issue with Pietro's daughter walking through a portal, seemingly not to care whether her father is going to make it out too.

It's been the same with Qrow and his nieces' relationships. The show is good at insisting that these families love each other because they hug and smile while on screen together, but when shit is actually going down, none of them care about pesky things like disappearances, arrests, or “The last time I saw you, you were with an old woman on a damaged station after a villain attack, potentially stranded in deadly cold if life support failed.” 

So yeah, this entire arc with Penny has been a disaster. From throwing away her framing subplot, to giving her a virus that did absolutely nothing, to giving her the Maiden powers which she's also done nothing with, to erasing her android status for a “She's really human now” message, Penny has been done dirty by the show these last two volumes. Not nearly to the extent Ironwood has, but still. At this point I wish they'd just kept her dead dead. Why do I want her back when that resurrection produces no reaction, her conflicts lead nowhere, and one of the core things that made Penny Penny has now been magically erased?

I've been saying for weeks that killing Penny off and keeping Penny around each had serious downsides attached, yet I never expected RWBY to do BOTH.

Also, I'm warding off any, "But Pinocchio was made into a real boy too" defenses. RWBY is not Pinocchio. Penny is not Pinocchio. I thought the allusion was going to be the Pinocchio inspired girl heading into the whale, not the show forcing the exact plotline  —  down to a blue, magical creature — onto a character whose entire journey has been about accepting herself as an android. Congratulations, RT. You just obliterated years of work.

Again, if you'd like an example of how to do this far better:

As Penny's character falls apart, Atlas shakes, alerting Jaune and the other that a new wish has been granted. Jaune pecks at the screen and realizes "That did, uh, something…?” but doesn’t realize that there's a giant, red "LIVE" up in the corner.

Jaune tries to warn the entire kingdom about their plan, but what he actually says is

“Atlas is falling, but — !”

And then the communications cut out. 

Watts, perhaps?

Our heroes are really good at saying things that make large populaces panic, huh? This is the one (1) snag in their "impossible" plan, but as said above, it doesn't amount to anything. We get a shot of Nora, horrified at the thought of kingdom-wide communications being down, but literally seconds later Team RWBY has made portals appear that everyone can walk through. So... why do we care about communications? More importantly, why does the show try to make us care? So much time is spent getting the viewer invested in problems that never come to mean anything. 

Including the problem of Salem herself.

Because the group successfully creates that evacuation plan. This is it. Everyone is leaving while Salem still reforms. 

Yang asks if they can use the vaults themselves as a single point for everyone to go to and Ambrosius agrees. So everyone is going to pile into the Vacuo vault that can only be opened by an unknown Maiden? They're going to put an entire kingdom's worth of people, including their enemies, into the vault where the Relic of Destruction is? Yeah, that's great. Prior to this — like if this had been the plan at the end of Volume 7 — I would have 100% agreed that these risks are better than death by Salem/grimm/cold. Now though, Oscar as axed Salem for an unknown length of time, the cold is having no impact on the civilians outside, and the grimm only attack background military personnel that supposedly no one cares about. They couldn't have spent another few minutes (especially with time stopped!) to figure out a means of getting to Vacuo that doesn't involve revealing and providing access to the location of a super secret vault? To say nothing of what they're going to do if Salem wakes up and snags one of those portals for herself. Two kingdoms for the price of one!

But that's what they're going with. Weiss gives Ambrosius a schematic of the kingdom, I guess, and he makes branching pathways appear with numerous portals for everyone to step through. They'll enter through one and, when they exit another, will be in Vacuo. Easy peasy, right? Especially since Ambrosius doesn't seem to have any limitations about how often his power is used. Is it three creations every 100 years like Jinn? We're not told, at least not to my recollection. However, I was expecting there to be a waiting period, that they'd fix Penny, go to evacuate the kingdom, and learn that sorry, I can't make another creation just yet. It feels like the sort of shit move these beings would pull — "Don't cry to me when it's not what you wanted" —  it would have been another commentary on the group's insistence on putting friends over the people's safety (like demanding the Ace Ops not bomb the whale because of Oscar), and crucially, would have kept the action in Atlas. Isn't that what this volume is? The battle for and potential destruction of the Kingdom of Atlas? We have two episodes left and, unless something unexpected happens, we're moving that action to Vacuo. Why? 

Meanwhile, Penny's corpse is just chilling in the background 😬

While all this is going on, Winter reassures Jacques that he and Ironwood will be evacuated too, though she makes it clear saving him was Weiss' idea. It checks out, considering Weiss is the one who turned her father's arrest into a joke last volume. Winter still takes his abuse seriously.

The group prepares to leave with a celebratory, "We did it!" from Weiss. I'm still banging my head against that dining room table. Before they can pass through the portal though, Ambrosius leaves them with one, dire warning: "Do not fall." 

In any other story a line like that is a neon sign announcing to the audience that someone will absolutely fall, and maybe they will, but RWBY has dodged consequences so often I wouldn't be surprised if this was merely another way to string us along. Remember all the hype surrounding Salem? The cold combined with her army and magic? How she was going to decimate Atlas and leave our group broken in a Fall 2.0?

I mean, we still have two episodes left. Forty minutes of content. Salem might still decimate them, especially since something has to happen in the finale. But god, it's a problem that we've come this far without a payoff. Salem randomly decided not to attack anyone, was stopped by a weapon added in solely for this purpose, and now the whole kingdom is being evacuated with a plan the group could have used at the start. This volume really is meaningless. 

“We go to vacuo and hope we’ve thought of everything” they say as the camera zooms in on Cinder's smiling face. For the second week in a row.

Bingo time!

Winter betrayed Ironwood, the group used the Staff of Creation, and I'm axing Maria on behalf of Pietro. You can't have the guy's daughter become human — after he was killing himself to give her his aura?? — and magically walk to Vacuo, not knowing if he's even survived since she last saw him, and expect me to think he hasn't been forgotten. Same with Maria. Has the group mentioned her since Amity cut out, notably for reasons they couldn’t explain? Of course not. Did they care to find out what happened? Of course not. I have no doubt they'll both re-appear in the next two episodes, Pietro crying over how perfect his girl is now and Maria congratulating the group on their actions, but we're still marking it.

This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever created, I hope you all are enjoying it :D

Another week, another couple feet added to the hole we’re digging. I know I keep saying I have no idea what's going to happen next... but I have no idea what's going to happen next. A Vacuo ending was not in the cards, not outside of them miraculously showing up in ships. Maybe they have been on their way to Atlas (somehow...) and will arrive precisely when everyone has left! Anything is possible at this point.

See you next Saturday, everyone. Hold on until then lol. 💜