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beauzos · 6 months

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obligatory yuty for the ask!!! but also if you dont want to only talk abt yuty then Ummm fulbright:3 or both even if youre feeling fancy...

Send me a character and I’ll list:

I already got one for Yuty, but thank you! So Fulbright it is.

Favorite thing about them: His pure of heart, dumb of ass nature... idk! I just feel like his bombastic, friendly personality is so lovable. I was invested in him from the second I met him! He just leaves such an impact with his silly but earnest personality. I love how determined he is, how he's got these big emotions and how much he believes in Blackquill and isn't scared of him one bit even though everyone else is because he sees Blackquill's raw potential. Waaaa. It's nice. Least favorite thing about them: Beyond him tasing Blackquill, um. What they did to his character by having him get murdered off-screen before the game starts lol. I think the way they did the Phantom twist was incredibly lame and I've talked extensively about it before so I'll spare y'all and just link the posts where I've bitched about it instead. 1 | 2

I haven't thought about it in a while so my opinions may have changed a bit idk just read these KRKFNM Second post isn't mine but I did leave a fucking tag essay so there's that. I do plan on replaying Dual Destinies soon to see what I feel about the game after knowing everything I do now, though. Favorite line: idk if it's a favorite line exactly but my favorite moment with him is in Turnabout Academy where he pops out of the art room window and is like "oh it's y'all!! in justice we trust!!" and helps out Athena and Apollo while Athena excitedly greets him n Klav and Apollo are like ??? It's so cute. brOTP: Ummm him with Ema is pretty fun! I want all the detectives to be buddies, and I think that Ema would originally be so pissed off and annoyed by him, but come to appreciate his earnestness and kindness. I think once she cools off and becomes a proper forensic detective she'd mellow out and be much more open to befriending people she works with. I think they'd get along very well. I also like the headcanons where Bobby really looks up to Gumshoe, so I like their dynamic too.

I also think him and Yuty would be fun. I think Nahyuta would be annoyed by Fulbright at first like Ema, though. But Fulbright probably fills a similar environmental niche to Datz, so I think Nahyuta could deal with him eventually. I imagined this scenario (admittedly in a shippy sense-- I think Madhibright is a funny ship and kinda cute, but I don't actually ship it anymore, they're just pals) where they meet post-SOJ and thought it'd be fun. Here's that post I made. OTP: Blackbright, I guess! IDK, I don't ship as much for him as I used to, but this is still my number one. I LOVE their dynamic in DD, I love the possibilities of what a dynamic could be like post-DD had he lived, so on. They're definitely Together but it might be kind of an unlabeled grey area friendship gay thing too. I don't know KRKF but I like them a lot! It's fun. I think they're very cute. nOTP: I dunno. Who are they gonna ship him with if not Blackquill? The Phantom? I've seen cute stuff with the Phantom and him as buddies that I find interesting. I wouldn't call romantically shipping them a NOTP, it's just vaguely weird but I don't really care at all. So, none I guess. Random headcanon: He's from the South and has a Southern accent!!! I love giving characters I like Southern accents it's kind of a thing I do if I have an excuse to, lol. It's why like half the Tazmily villagers were written with accents during my Mother 3 fanfic days. I think it suits him, idk why. It's better than the goofy ass voice they gave him in DD 😭 Unpopular opinion: idk. I don't know what people think about him, aside from him being another character the AA subreddit will try to convince you just absolutely sucks. Aside from, like, I don't know, I think it's a bit off sometimes if AUs where Bobby lives that people try to put all the blame for shitty behavior towards Blackquill on the Phantom. I get why, but I think sometimes it's worth examining how his position of power could be harmful to Blackquill regardless of his pure intentions or whatever. He's a cop, after all.

I know some people are uncomfortable with the ethics of a ship with Blackquill while he's still in prison (which is why some folks will specifically only interpret Blackbright as a post-DD thing) but I'm also like. idk I think THAT'S worth examining too! By people smarter than me. I'm not doing it KRKF I just find their dynamics interesting, warts and all.

I get it, though. Sometimes you just don't wanna fucking get into it SDJN but yeah! Song I associate with them: Never Ever Getting Rid of Me from Waitress. Quintessential Blackbright song Favorite picture of them: This pose is my fave everrr it's adorable.

though I also like the one official art where he's crying looking at Blackquill. ok gay ass

#brutalitybunny #asks #Psy's replies #aa tag #headcanons tag #thank you for sending!!!!!

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

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[Open Your Mouth] Chapter 3 - O

See previous chapters here: AO3 | Tumblr

Summary: She downs her mimosa in one long drink and snaps her fingers. The television shuts blank, and she sashays her way to a room. It looks just like any other wall partition but it opens to an expansive study. It has a day bed on the side, a long table, and her most comfortable swivel chair. Metallic chairs are folded on the side for her clients.Taking up the rest of the space are shelves filled with her favorite books. In the middle, sandwiched by volumes of Crime and Punishment and Les Miserables are jars of teeth submerged in liquid, white, sparkly, well-maintained. On the other end of the wall is a chest box which also functions like a wide ottoman. Except that it isn’t. It’s a freezer for the meat she has yet to eat.

-xxxxxxx-

March 7, 2021, 12:03 PM

“Open your mouth please.” Her bright emerald irises pop out from her mask as she probes the inside of his mouth. Sasuke feels the metal tool scrape against his tooth on the lower left. His tongue is on the edge of making a clucking sound, but he winces from a sharp pain when she moves his tooth from front to back.

“It’s loose,” she confirms for him. He recognizes notes of jasmine in her proximity. “I can extract it for you now. You’ll just have to spend the rest of the day under pain killers.”

He dropped by her clinic during his lunch break, intending to take up her offer in the off chance that she accepts walk-ins.

Of course, it was situated on the 25th floor of one of Senju’s high rise buildings which houses their offshoot businesses in the medical field; one floor for every niche – a chiropractor on the tenth, a hair transplant on the 17th, herbal practitioners on the 20th.

Of course, the brunette receptionist with a very sharp eyeliner sent him away, and looked at him pointedly with visible annoyance when he brought up that the dentist offered the appointment herself. People often tell him he’s handsome, and he gets to use this pretty privilege during the conduct of cases sometimes. But people here are immune to his so-called stoic charm.

Of course, it’s probably because there are far richer, far more aristocratic clients than him that would have naturally made a beeline towards the beautiful dentist.

He clucks nonetheless, his tongue grazing against the cold metal. “Can you do it under thirty?”

“Rushing for an appointment?” She gets the syringe from her assistant and taps it on her delicate wrist.

“Vying if I could get ten more minutes for an ice cream.” Her hands are light and quick to inject the anesthesia in the surrounding gums. He hears her soft chuckle against her mask.

“Not the first time that someone did that move.” She hands him his cone with one scoop of mint chocolate.

“I’m not a fan of sweets if you should know,” he says. “Is strong arm strength needed for a dentist?” Two big bites from the top.

Sakura blushes with an intensity, he notes, and in contrast her actions – she shies away her gaze from his stare with her fingers devoid of any jewelry. “You’re as direct as everyone in your lot goes, huh?”

“Is the topic too morbid for you, Dr. Haruno?”

“I’m keeping tabs with the news but I forego the specifics.” She fiddles with her two scoops of double dutch in a small cup. “But to answer your question, you only need to have the right leverage, an accurate position, and a good angle to ease out the naughtiest of teeth. However, it’s really an advantage to have great arm strength. It can get tiring after the twelve noon patient.”

Sasuke finishes his ice cream in the next three bites, feeling nothing in his mouth, the anesthesia still kicking, but he can taste the blood mingle with the freshness of mint, a tinge of rust in the sweetness on his tongue. “You’re not as bothersome as everyone in your lot.”

She raises both of her eyebrows, not sure if she understands his underlying implications.

“Dr. Tsunade Senju and Dan Haruno, top billing general surgeons of the medical world.”

Her mouth opens to form a small and soundless oh. “Ah I’m sure you already snuffed most information about me – it goes that way, right? Ah? Not at all? – So the thing is….I’m not their legitimate daughter. I’m adopted.”

He didn’t have to snuff, these are all open information in the playground of the rich. “A stroke of luck to land on a high end and well managed orphanage.” Her immense wealth does not translate to jewelry, face jobs, and fancy lash lifts. On her breast pocket are three pilot coletos, an apple watch on her wrist, mid-budget choice of clothes, and comfortable white Nike sneakers to be later replaced with a good fit of block heels. When summed up, they barely make a dent out of her daily worth. The rest of the money must have been channeled to her clinic’s state of the art facilities.

“You could say that I struck gold with my circumstances since then.” She spoons out a big chunk of her ice cream.

“But not prior.” The sugar brown cone also disappears in his mouth, all the chewing done by only one side.

“Amnesia. I reportedly had a traumatic head injury when they found me.” Her pink locks drift to the side, her head tilted in expectation of his further prodding.

Sasuke twists the line to another direction, and he captures the quick change of her microexpression from subtle guarding to surprise. “Would it be possible to inject one strong dose of anesthesia to the full mouth and extract all teeth?”

“Enough to knock them unconscious,” she confirms.

And kill them without sound, Sasuke surmises. He stands up and taps his wristwatch. “My ten minutes with you is up. I take it my extraction procedure is free?”

“I’m sure you’ll afford the next one.” She continues to fiddle with her cup as she watches him go.

Sasuke halts in his exiting steps and looks back at Sakura like it’s an afterthought. “If you’d like a payment, a dinner wouldn’t be so bad.” He turns on his heels and doesn’t stop, he can hear a faint laughter behind his back.

-x-

March 10, 2021, 7:16 PM

“Did I keep you waiting?” He slides on the seat across her and takes in her body language as well as their milieu.

They agreed to meet at seven sharp but Kakashi had asked for another briefing from him so he was held back. Her soft expression, in all its exuding naivety, gives nothing away. “This place doesn’t have no reservations, Detective.”

“Just Sasuke,” he remarks. He clucks his tongue in appreciation. “A hole in the wall noodle place. You frequent this area?”

“A reminder that you gave me the green light to choose.” She’s dressed today in an olive sweatshirt tucked into a neat pair of trousers and velvet loafers – a right mix of classy and casual. “It’s my assistant’s go-to. He would always bring me the best-selling set after a grueling work day so I asked for an address.”

“Thanks for the consideration, Dr. Haruno,” he says. Their order arrives minutes after, and she flashes an apologetic smile. For ordering beforehand Frankly speaking, he expected her to bring him into a Michelin restaurant – one to boost her reputation and second to blanket her in safety of familiar breeds. Or maybe safety is much better in company of anonymity.

“Just Sakura.”

They finish two plates of dimsum and almost empty out the small bottle of chili oil, garlic, sesame, and soy sauce concoction. Sipping a glass of soy milk after a bounty feast, Sasuke reviews the facts again in his mind.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Sakura asks, finished with her drink.

“Give me a hundred bucks then.”

“How many coffee orders would those be worth?”

Sasuke smirks in spite of himself. He changes topics again, on to the mundane life of a Senju-Haruno heir.

“How is the case progressing by the way?”

He glances up and notes the curiosity and fear in her eyes. “Classified information.”

She leans, plates with crumbles and half-empty glasses in between, and tilts her head, her rose locks spilling from her back. “Will they come for me?”

An alarm ticks off somewhere in his mind. “What makes you think so?” They’ve only had one body so far with no other indication of a succeeding death.

He sees that she bites the inside of her mouth, and she fiddles again with the cutlery in front of her. “Maybe I’m just overthinking.”

About ten minutes later, he ushers her outside the rather dingy restaurant but when no car arrives to escort her back to her place, he encourages her to place an uber. He could ask her to ride with him but the mere implications are layered, and he’s not ready for that quite yet. She gives him a look when he opens the door to her uber, an unspoken question she is yet to articulate. When he gets nothing within seconds, he waves goodbye.

“Give me a text when you’re home,” he says although he shouldn’t have.

“It has been an interesting night,” she replies. “Detective.”

The car finally drives away, and he remains with the remnants of her jasmine scent.

-x-

March 13, 2021, 5:49 PM, The second body

“You are not going to release that profile,” the wife of Haru Kagoshi says. She also stands as the chief overseas director of Haru Light, Inc. “Are you insinuating that my husband fucked a gay man?”

“Fuck is a callous word. Watch your tone,” the CEO of Mingwa Industries warn. “Are you sure you’re on the right track?”

“With all due respect, Captain Yamato is the best we have in the country in the field of criminal profiling. He knows what he’s doing,” Asuma assures everyone.

“And are your detectives doing the proper work? Are you covering all fields?” the Mingwa COO pointedly looks at Sasuke. “Because as far as performance goes, you’re allowing that killer to cripple our economy by snuffing out the next best minds.”

Kakashi’s eyes roll in sync with Sasuke’s at the cripple our economy.

Yamato stands up and offers a cup of coffee at the recently widowed which she explicitly ignores. “We will not be identifying the gender of the killer, but we need to narrow it down to males. Of course, it’s up to the public how they will presume it is connected to the genital mutilation.”

“Fuck you,” the widow says. “You know we can cut off your institutional funding, right?”

Kakashi has started massaging his forehead, a sign that he is nearing his bullshit tolerance level. “Yes you can, but we have an annual appropriation from the government. And cutting off our resources won’t solve this case any faster.”

“-with your due respect,” Asuma adds, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

The grandfather CEO of Mingwa Industries scoffs. “We’ll just have to launch our individual investigation then. In case you might be intentionally sabotaging the progress of this case, isn’t that right, Uchiha Sasuke?”

The disdain in his voice when Uchiha rolls off his tongue is jarring and pointed. Sasuke smirks in defiance, willing to push these elites further to the edge of self-destruction. Years in a gray cubicle and thousands of meters walked in company to a reviewing mind, he found that money could get you somewhere – just not the finish line. “You’d better keep an eye out on me then.”

“What the fuck was that about?” Asuma sneers at the detective department after the white collars scampered off. “They are strong lobbyists backing powerful politicians. We shouldn’t be picking a fight with them.”

“He started it,” Sasuke points to Kakashi who shrugs.

“Anyway, Yamato and I will prepare to announce the profile to the media, just a vague description, and then we’ll work on a composite sketch based on these assumptions,” Kakashi pats Asuma’s shoulders. “Ease up. I’m sure Sasuke and his team are doing their best.”

“I’m not doubting an Uchiha, but I’m doubting the way your petty behaviors get in the process of investigation. Now get out and do your jobs.” The Chief Police retrieves a half-emptied pack of cigarettes and lights up a stick. “This job is giving me cancer.”

11:13 PM

She sips her third glass of mimosa as her eyes drift to the sound of her television. A big banner of breaking news is placed below with the caption authorities release a profile: a serial killer at hand?

She chuckles, almost spilling the cocktail on her fingers. She drifts closer to the screen and her nails stick on the necks of the silver-haired man and the man who she assumes is the criminal profiler.

“Authorities confirm that Armando Mingwa and Haru Kagoshi have been killed by the same person. Renowned profiler Captain Yamato reveals the breakdown of the suspect – male with a minimum height of 5’7, age from late 20s to early 30s, and frequents the high-end districts. When asked if we have a serial killer at large, the chief detective and the profiler neither confirmed nor deny.”

She downs her mimosa in one long drink and snaps her fingers. The television shuts blank, and she sashays her way to a room. It looks just like any other wall partition but it opens to an expansive study. It has a day bed on the side, a long table, and her most comfortable swivel chair. Metallic chairs are folded on the side for her clients.Taking up the rest of the space are shelves filled with her favorite books. In the middle, sandwiched by volumes of Crime and Punsihment and Les Miserables are jars of teeth submerged in liquid, white, sparkly, well-maintained.

On the other end of the wall is a chest box which also functions like a wide ottoman. Except that it isn’t. It’s a freezer for the meat she has yet to eat.

March 24, 2021, 1:10 PM

“So what was the dentist’s alibi?” Neji asks the sullen detective.

“He had a meditation class for each date – January 29 and February 27 – which runs for five hours. They time it with the moon cycles. I also called his teacher – she prefers to be called witch – and confirmed his attendance.” Sasuke clucks his tongue. “However, they are a class of 100. He can easily slip out when everyone else is closing their eyes and saying humbda dumda.”

He glances at the map on the wall, pins already on the dumpsites, and he zeroes in on the address smack in the middle. “And he can dump the body with his nondescript car and go back in again. Did you know he has three cars – a Tesla, Mercedes, and a black pick-up?”

Tenten carries a fresh pot of coffee to the table and stares at their evidence board. “I’m guessing it’s the same truck with the garbage ones – those going through the suburbs?”

Sasuke nods. “He says it’s for farming. He has a land on the rural side of the district.”

Jugo raises a brow. “That ends my snooping in with the golden spoons.”

“Not quite Jugo.” Neji fills himself a cup. “These people socialize in the same circles you know.”

Someone knocks on the open door of the room and raises a box of cake. “Delivery for you, Detective Uchiha.” The staff attempts to enter but Jugo raises a finger to stop her.

“Who’s it from?” Jugo asks. “It might be the killer.”

The staff scratches the back of her head. “I don’t think the killer is a beautiful pink-haired lady with green eyes.”

All heads turn curiously to Sasuke who gets the cake from the staff. “It’s my punishment.”

Tenten’s eyes narrow at the name on the card. Haruno Sakura. “How is it a punishment? She brought you – us – sweets.”

“She knows I hate sweets. Help yourself though.”

“So you’re dating?” Neji says it with disbelief. “How? You’re barely in the office and – oh my god, you’re skipping hours aren’t you!”

Jugo repeats the name over and over. “Fuck. You’re seeing the Haruno Sakura? She’s as recluse as the oddball heirs go, but I’ve only heard good things from her. I heard she’s very skilled with her hands. Experienced it yet, Uchiha?”

Sasuke kicks him in the shin as soon as he’s done talking. “Firsthand. A tooth on the lower left. Now shut up and get back to work.”

-x-

April 12, 2021, 6:17 AM, The third body

The team congregates in the morgue. Another body. Only this time, it was found on a ravine, some parts already devoured by wild animals.

“It’s Fugashi Imamu, current overseas director of Imamu Holdings,” the medical examiner tells them. “Same methods done but there’s more clotting on the crotch area, indicating his genital was mutilated while he was still alive.”

Jugo and Neji both groan inwardly.

“He has an eight-year old.” Tenten crosses her arms in front of her. “A math wizard.”

Sasuke closes his eyes, fending off the initial signs of a migraine. The cases kept piling, and they were nowhere close to a lead. “Can you estimate the date of death?”

“I wouldn’t know just yet with all the rigor mortis and animal attacks. But if we pattern this with the recent killings, and the body was dumped within the last two weeks, the killing must have taken place on the last week of March.”

11:13 AM

March 29, Sasuke thinks about the ME’s latest message. There must be a pattern for the dates of killings. And if there was, they are up against an intelligent killer, a methodical one. He must have a list of targets with a step by step process on how to approach and kill each one. He plans weeks ahead with several contingencies.

“Captain Yamato confirms the ME’s assumption. There really is a pattern,” Tenten tells the team. “Unfortunately, the information already reached the golden spoon team.”

Neji comes in with stacks of folders and notebooks. “Got all his stuff from his secretary. Seems like the bastard slept around or may have been just a bad boss, said she couldn’t be more than happy to live in a world rid of such filthy lolita creep – her words, not mine.”

They go through each page, jotting down relevant information. Sasuke, on the other hand, flips through a small wallet-sized planner. Jotted down on March 26 is veneers with Dr. Akugawa. He seems like the go-to dentist of the big shots. He goes further up the dates and there on March 6 is a name he doesn’t expect. Haruno Sakura.

“It’s true. His daughter had an appointment with me,” Sakura confirms over the phone. “But he also dropped by last year for a tooth extraction dislodged by a punch from his grandfather. Old money can be quite controlling.”

“Ah. Doesn’t he have a family dentist?” He taps his pen on his desk, tens of gears running through his mind.

“Told me his dentist was unavailable for an emergency procedure so he dropped by the one nearest his office.”

Sasuke looks at the time on his watch. “Did you have lunch yet?”

“I have an 11:30. But I can see you in 12.”

He gets there fifteen minutes before, and he flashes his badge to Laura who has grown accustomed to his lunch break visits. Nonetheless, her countenance makes apparent her dislike.

“Your cctv records please,” Sasuke tells her. It isn’t a request, Laura knows, so she leads him to the administrative room on the floor and instructs the staff to show the dates he mentions.

Kiyoko Imamu went there on March 6 with her mother and a helper. They backtrack until they find the date when Fugashi had an appointment. A 30-minute visit and he was quickly out.

“Does Dr. Haruno have other clinics? A private location for a niche clientele?” Sasuke asks.

Laura shakes her head. “Only this one, and she doesn’t accept house calls. She likes to concentrate her work in one place.”

He tells the staff to rewind the records on January 29, February 27, and March 29. Nothing was peculiar about Sakura’s body language, Sasuke notes. He commits all records in his memory and allows himself to be ushered out by Laura. They arrive to Sakura waiting at the receptionist’s desk.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” She asks him with a tilt in her head.

“Just right about now.” He offers an open arm to her which she links with hers. Her face immediately blooms in shades of red.

“We have mussel soup today and grilled mackerel. On the other hand, we also serve bolognese. Or do you have any other location in mind?”

“Your cafeteria’s menu sounds nice.”

They’re interrupted by Sasuke’s phone.

“Where are you?” Kakashi’s voice borders on the edge of frustration.

“Lunch,” Sasuke replies.

“Come back asap. The families had Jugo come in and take Akugawa for questioning.”

#open your mouth #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #pinkhairedlily #crime and mystery au #thriller au #am i even doing this right lmao

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

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10 and 24 for the festive prompts :)

(please excuse me while I hang my head in shame, for this was 1: received last year, and 2: still didn’t manage to appear before Christmas this year.) 🤦🏼‍♀️ Best laid plans really do be elusive, huh? @ Anon, I'm sorry this is so late, and I hope you’re still around! ♥️

Prompts - 10: I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween! and 24: Secret Santa is bullshit.

(for the sake of this story and b99′s vague timelines, this is set pre-manhunter and post-casecation). (ao3)

all the lights are shining (so brightly everywhere)

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Amy sighs, tapping her feet - sadly, trapped in a curled up shoe, and does her best to ignore the jingle that comes from its dangling bell.

Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Christmas Carols have always been a favourite of hers, forever singing along to the melody despite being told by many that she really shouldn’t. They were joyful and uplifting and reminders of everything wonderful about the holiday season. But tonight, she’s been standing post for three hours, listening to Z-List celebrity covers of sacred songs of hope; and as a result has spent 85% of her time hatching a plan to find the source of the music and put an end to everyone’s misery.

Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la, fa la la, fa la lahhh …

Jake’s off-key singing voice filters in through her earpiece, and a tiny smile finds it’s way onto her face.

“Troll the ancient yule-tide carol, fa la la la laaaa, la la la laaa! … Wait, troll? That can’t be right! Hey Ames, do you think trolls celebrate Christmas?”

Knowing that answering would blow her cover, Amy remains quiet; nodding slowly both to the beat and her husband’s question as the track fades away and a new atrocity begins.

Seriously, she needs to find out where this music is coming from.

From underneath her undercover position as Head Elf of Candy Cane Lane, Amy shifts uncomfortably, resisting the urge to tug down the tinsel edged skirt that hovered just a little too high for her liking. She wanted to burn the bra she had chosen to wear tonight (digging into her ribcage like it did), save for the fact that it was very expensive and very beautiful, and very much worn this evening with the sole purpose of seducing her husband.

Work had descended into pure madness in the past fortnight, with both her and Jake’s schedules descending from holding relative similarities to polar opposites. And maybe it was the surplus of romantic movies on every single TV channel, or the scores of advertisements reminding her that the holiday season was for being together with loved ones (for Jake Peralta was most certainly Amy’s Loved One) - either way, Amy had begun to miss spending nights alone with her husband something fierce.

Tonight’s plan had been so simple, it had barely required a binder. Wait until it’s nearly Jake’s finish time, don sexy lingerie, cover up with comfy clothes and go pick up her unsuspecting husband from work. Let him unlock the door when finally home, then jump his bones right there on the couch - giving Jake just enough time to discover the red lacy set and look at her the way he always manages to do - like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. Then, sexy timez. Lots of sexy timez.

And it had all been working so well - until she’d shown up at the precinct unannounced (Jake being too distracted to notice the text she’d sent him), and immediately found herself getting wrapped up in a sting her old squad were devising.

In a spark of true evil, one of Brooklyn’s most elusive drug runners - Art Akemi - had invented a new way to dodge any of his drug shipments from being discovered; deciding to build candy canes around the narcotics so that to the unaware eye, they would appear completely innocuous.

Unfortunately, one of his most recent handovers had gotten mixed up with actual candy canes, resulting in several innocent members of the public ending up in hospital with mysterious drug overdoses. It had taken the 99 and their neighbouring precincts days to piece together Akemi’s plans, and just this afternoon Rosa had been given a lead that suggested a handoff with the kingpin and one of his henchmen would be happening at Santa’s Village that very evening.

It was brazen, to set up an exchange of illegal narcotics in a public access area - particularly, one frequented by children and families alike - but also completely on brand for someone like Akemi. The squad needed to work fast, and work smart; running through the finer details of their mission when Amy had arrived.

And yes, perhaps her FOMOW had reached an all-new peak as she listened to the detectives speak, and perhaps she hadn’t really thought about what she was volunteering herself for - but the next thing Amy knew she was Holly the Christmas Elf, toes squeezed into surprisingly curly shoes as she fielded questions from children and waited for any signs of wrong-doing.

It has been twenty-five minutes since Santa had disappeared to ‘feed the reindeer’ (aka disappearing to the back docks for a quick drag of a cigarette), and just as Amy was beginning to wonder if a search party needs to be called, she feels a gentle tug on her hand, looking down to find a little boy no older than five gazing up at her with awe.

“D’ya think Santa is busy making da presents?"

His eyes are wide - filled with the kind of awe that every child seems to get when they are lulled by the magic of Christmas - and as Amy crouches to match his diminutive height, she can’t help but notice how the unkempt curls on his head remind her of a photo with a similar aged Jake that Karen had once shown her.

(He had been mid-discovery of a fairy garden, one built by his Nana and immediately claimed as his own, and the sheer joy in his face had made Amy’s heart swell, even years later through the faded colours of an oft-cherished photograph.)

“You know, I bet he is.” Scanning the crowd for that familiar mixture of red and white but coming up blank, she turns her attention back to the little boy. “Santa’s magic like that, don’t you think?”

The child’s nod is so enthusiastic the tiny curls on his head begin to bounce, turning quickly as his searching father calls out his name. “Just a little longer, and you can tell him all of your wishes, okay?”

“Da elf said Santa’d building da presents Daddy!” The child runs back towards his father’s outstretched hand, and Amy gives the adult an understanding smile as he lifts his son back into his arms. From his undercover position at a nearby popcorn stand; Jake catches Amy’s eye as she returns to her earlier position, giving him a tiny smile when he throws her a wink.

The topic of parenthood - of them trying to have a baby, one day - had been mentioned by both more than a few times since their anniversary; and the regular use of the word when rather than if ignited a sense of hope in Amy that made her stomach flutter every single time. While the enormity of it all still scared Jake - still scared Amy, if she were to be completely honest - what always seemed to remain after each conversation was the understanding that even if it scared them: together they’d figure out how to get through it.

(Last month’s arrival of Miguel’s baby girl Adamaris, and the sight of Jake cradling her in his careful arms, had definitely not helped, playing on a loop in Amy’s mind for several days after their visit.)

“Nothing beats a bit of Santa magic, hey Santiago?” Jake’s tone is light and playful, and only serves to remind Amy just how much she’s missed talking to him these last few weeks.

Rolling her eyes slightly, she tucks her head downward, playing the pretence of adjusting her costume as she speaks into the hidden mic. “Ha ha, Peralta. Santa is magic, especially to cute kids like that one. No way was I going to be the one to burst the Santa bubble.”

With a stuttered gasp, Jake slaps a hand against his chest, and a passing stranger gives him the side eye. “Wait a minute. Are you suggesting that Santa is fake?!”

“Santa is real, Peralta. As is this very real mission to take down Akemi. Time to focus up.” Terry’s firm tone breaks through the earpiece, busting into Jake and Amy’s conversation, and a sheepish grin breaks out on Jake’s face.

“Right you are, sarge. This is Super Serious Santa Shutdown Situation.” Shoving several pieces of popcorn into his mouth, Jake waits a beat before continuing. “Ames wasn’t wrong, tho. That kid was a cutie.”

The unspoken addition of but ours will be cuter lingers between them, and Amy feels her skin warm up under Jake’s faraway gaze.

Maybe this bra was going to come in use after all.

Rosa’s voice cuts through the unsaid, her tone steady as she moves in closer from her position at a nearby payphone. “Heads up - Santa’s back. And it looks like they’ve swapped out their player.”

Immediately switching into detective mode, Jake shields his face from the new Santa’s sight as he passes, already very aware of earlier (unsuccessful) run-in’s with the kingpin. “That really looks like Akemi.”

“Santiago, can you get close enough to confirm?”

Handing out Christmas tree shaped cookies to the children milling around her position, Amy glances up just in time to catch the replacement Santa as he walks into the village. With the cocky swagger of a man who rarely pays any consequences for his actions, this version of Father Christmas looked paler and far more arrogant than the man wearing the costume earlier.

Pushing past the waiting children with barely any acknowledgment of their tiny hellos, New Santa pauses on his way to his plush red throne; snapping his gum and giving Amy a very jolly (read: creepy) once-over with his eyes. Glancing quickly in Terry’s direction, she gives a subtle nod. Akemi’s case file has landed on almost every detective in New York’s desk at one point or another, and she’d recognised that hard gaze anywhere.

“Well, well, well … don’t you look good enough to sit atop my Christmas tree.”

Acutely aware of their audience, and knowing that the red and white striped stockings covering her legs would definitely be restrictive if she needed to go full ninja on Santa’s ass, Amy quickly chooses to plaster on a bright and shiny grin. “So glad you’ve made it back from the North Pole, Santa. We’ve got lots of excited children just bursting to see you!”

“Yeah, whatever.” Akemi leans in, an unwelcome mixture of tobacco and sweat washing over Amy, and it’s all she can do to not recoil in disgust as he lowers his voice. “I’m only interested in one thing, lady, and once I got it I’m outta here. But don’t you worry, there’ll be plenty of room on my sleigh for you.”

“Ok. I don’t give a damn about any Christmas magic, Ames. If he tries to make you kiss him under that mistletoe, I swear to god I will punch Santa right in the face.”

“Cool it, Peralta.” Terry’s clenching jaw is almost audible in his response, and Amy takes a slow and calming breath, safe in the knowledge that her squad most definitely has her back.

“Right. Yep. Cool it. Cool cool cooling it.” Each member of the team watches from their position as Santa saunters over to his seat, throwing several finger guns to waiting mothers as he goes; and Jake lets out a snort of disgust. “So … has everyone gotten their Secret Santa present organised yet? Rosa, you need some shopping tips?”

“No. Secret Santa is bullshit.”

“It’s a fun holiday tradition that you are definitely participating in and if you picked my name I’d really love a voucher for that sneaker store on 28th.”

“I don’t have you, Peralta.”

“Yep. No problemo. Just saying. In case you do.”

To her right, Amy notices Terry’s unmissable frame break through the crowd. “Heads up, guys. Looks like Santa’s buddy has found his way into the queue.” With his wooly beanie and scores of shopping bags clutched in his hands, their sergeant blended in relatively easily as just another father doing some last minute panic shopping; but they all knew one flex of his oversized muscles would break that facade fairly easily.

A silence falls over the comms as they watch Santa breeze through child after child, giving them barely any attention as his target draws closer; and slowly both Jake and Rosa close the gap from the other sides.

Pulling out a poorly wrapped parcel and handing the gift to Akemi, the unshaven man at the front of the queue feigns surprise when Santa reaches into the sack next to his throne, handing the supposed stranger an oversized bag of ‘candy canes’.

“There’s the exchange. Boyle, can you confirm you got the footage?”

“With a beautiful slow zoom that really captures the thrum of festive anticipation hovering amongst the crowd, sarge.”

Cringing slightly, Jake shakes his head at Charles’ description as his eyes follow the bag of candy canes, their new recipient now walking at a steady pace towards the exit. “We’re going to lose this guy if we don’t move now.”

“Go, Peralta. Diaz, you run backup. Amy and I will take care of Santa.”

With a grin, Jake breaks into a fast walk, already focused in his pursuit. “Alright, taking down a bad Santa in a public environment. Now it feels like Christmas!”

“We’re going to wait until Akemi has left the village, Peralta. You know, try not to break a bunch of children’s hearts?”

“You do you, Terry!”

There are still remnants of festive glitter in Amy’s hair as she and Jake walk up the stairs of their apartment building several hours later, both of them slightly weary from the hours of paperwork and debriefing that took place after Santa’s Village.

“Boy, bet thats the last time you come to the precinct and pick me up on your night off, huh Ames?” The apology is obvious in Jake’s tone, and Amy glances over her shoulder to give him a reassuring smile. Even if it hadn’t been in her original plan, she still got to spend the night hanging with her husband (although in a slightly different capacity than originally planned), and she was choosing to count that as a win. (A small win, but a win all the same.)

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m really sorry you got pulled into all of that, babe. I just didn’t see your message in time, or I would have … hey, Ames?” The touch of his hand against her forearm is gentle, pulling her in with the quiet strength she knows her husband to possess, and Amy turns towards Jake without hesitation. His eyes search her face, immediately seeing through her concealed defeat, and he really is the only one for her. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just …” she feels a blush rush over her cheeks again, suddenly feeling ridiculous as she thinks of how to divulge her secret plan. The underwire from the damn bra digs into her skin again as she squirms, and if tonight has taught Amy anything, it’s why lingerie like this is only designed to stay on until your partner rips it off seconds after reveal.

“Babe?”

“It just feels like forever since we’ve had a night at home, just the two of us.” Jake’s brows knit, and Amy leans in to rest both hands against her husbands chest. “And I know that work has been crazy lately, and that it’ll eventually calm down again, I just … I’d sorta planned on tonight going differently once you were home.”

“Oh god, and instead you ended up in a glittery elf costume with a creep leering at you.” Left hand slapping against his face in shame, Jake shakes his head in obvious frustration.

“I mean, we can mainly blame my FOMOW for that, babe. It doesn’t matter, really. If I hadn’t been there, you might have gotten home even later so when you think about it, it’s way better we - mmfph -” the rest of Amy’s argument stops in it’s tracks as Jake pulls her in for a kiss, the gentle but insistent press of his lips against hers casting any other thoughts far to the side.

The familiar touch of his hands as they roam against the outline of her butt causes Amy to melt entirely in Jake’s arms, resting her arms against his steady shoulders as her fingers slide into his hair. This - these tiny moments where the world seemed to fade away and all she could feel was Jake - was what she’d been craving for weeks.

Jake sighs against her lips, letting her tongue slip into his mouth as he shuffles ever so closer to her, and maybe he’d been missing this just as much as she.

“So,” Jake whispers as he pulls away from the kiss, leaning in to brush his lips against Amy’s once more. “Time to get this night back in track.” Another kiss. “What kind of plans did you make for us, Santiago?”

“Lets just say … the lingerie I’ve got on under here is going to blow your mind, Peralta.”

“Going to blow your mind, title of our sex tape.”

Amy nods, biting her lower lip as she steps out of Jake’s embrace, gesturing towards their apartment. “But it’s also really uncomfortable. C’mon, let's get inside before it ends up in the dumpster.”

Jake’s footsteps echo behind Amy’s, hands landing on her hips as she digs for the keys. “I’m declaring it now, Ames. Tomorrow night we’re both leaving early and staying in for movie night at home. Phones off, popcorn, everything for the full movie experience. We can watch Die Hard and Love Actually and Nightmare before Christmas …”

Amy’s nose crinkles at the last movie, unlocking their front door and tugging her husband through as it swings open. “Didn’t we watch that last one for Halloween?”

“I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween!”

“Jake …”

“Christmas is literally in the title, babe!”

Pulling him closer, Amy takes a leaf out of her husband’s handbook, silencing him with a definitely not PG rated kiss now that the risk of being discovered by a neighbour had slimmed to none.

Jake’s arms wrap around her middle in response, holding Amy close as her fingers begin to trace the edge of his buttons, and she lets out a sigh of satisfaction that finally her initial plan was coming to fruition.

Next time, though, she might add a sub-section into the binder about potential diversions, and how to avoid them (not join them) - FOMOW be damned. This stuff was way more fun.

#my writing #very delayed #peraltiago Christmas #pre-mac #sorry anon #undercover peraltiago taking down bad guys #b99 fic #b99 fanfic #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fluff #jake x amy fic #not tagging the prompts as its too long ago

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corie-the-writer · 4 years

Text

Won’t Let Go - Ch.2

Chapter 2

It had been about two weeks since Jay Halstead had gotten Sophia's number. He had been so busy with cases piling up that he hadn't had a chance to stop and see her artwork.

A couple of days after getting her number, Jay had been sitting on a house with Atwater, telling his friend about getting the woman's number, and not being sure of what to text her. He had told Kevin that he definitely wanted to get to know her and to see if anything came from it. Kevin looked at him as if he grew three heads, telling him that he was over thinking the entire thing. Kevin had ended up grabbing his phone and sending a simple text to Sophia saying who it was and asking how she was doing. Jay had realized that it was 1:30 in the morning, and he began freaking out that the text might wake her. Kevin had reminded Jay that she worked at a bar and probably kept weird hours, so when she had text back within ten minutes, Jay felt a sense of relief. The two had been texting off and on ever since.

Jay had enjoyed speaking to Sophia through texting, and then had decided to start calling her on his lunch breaks in order to get to know her a little better. Since his schedule was screwed up because of not being able to catch a lead in the current case, he's had to postpone hanging out outside of the bar while she was working.

He quickly found out that Sophia was extremely witty, but one of the most gentle souls he had ever encountered, but she had assured him there was a mean streak inside of her that rarely came out.

Sophia had started to send him photos the night she had went to Otis, Joe and Sylvie's house for Russian dinner night. She had sent him a photo of the food he was missing out on thanks to sitting on a house with Ruzek, and then a photo of all four of them, offering to bring them food while they worked through the night. That night Jay had asked for a picture of just Sophia, and she had sent one. It had turned out to be his favorite photo of her, set as her contact photo.

Jay would stop into Molly's whenever he had seen the bar light on, whether it be close to closing or in the midst of business hours just to catch a glimpse of her. It had taken two weeks to finally catch a lead in the current case, which led to an arrest earlier that afternoon. Jay had been estactic, and had decided to stop in at Molly's to hang out with Sophia as she worked.

Walking into the crowded bar, Jay's eyes wondered behind the counter to see Kidd and Herrmann working with Otis towel drying glasses. Kidd met his eyes and gave him a nod causing him to approach.

"Is Sophia working?" Jay questioned loud enough for only Stella to hear over the music playing through the jubebox.

"No, she's off tonight." Stella answered, "But the last I saw her, she was over there dancing." Kidd gestured her head towards the open end of the bar and Jay gave her a nod in understanding and casted his eyes towards the area.

Kidd had slid him a beer and Jay took it appreciatively, and then took a sip before heading to the back end of the area in search of Sophia. It didn't take long for his blue eyes to find her in the middle of the dance floor, her hips swaying back and forth slowly, her hands carefree as ever reaching towards the sky, with a man dancing behind her. Jay had to keep his jealousy in check as he approached the dark haired woman.

"Mind if I cut in?" Jay spoke causing Sophia to flutter her eyes open and a bright smile appear on her face.

He watched as she moved towards him, her hands going on his chest, "I didn't think I'd see you tonight..." Sophia breathed out, the song changing, "How was work?" Sophia questioned licking her lips.

"It was good." Jay looked down to her a smile toying at his lips, "Got an arrest, so here I am..." Jay commented, "Should I be worried about the competition?" Jay questioned looking over Sophia's head to the man she was dancing with just a few moments ago.

Sophia looked over her shoulder, "Oh him..." She let out a chuckle, "The only reason I was dancing with him was because he is gay, and I didn't have to deal with him being handsy. Now you on the other hand, I might have some competition if he gets his hands on you." Sophia teased and Jay chuckled.

"There is no competition at all." Jay spoke truthfully, the blush appearing on Sophia's cheeks for a moment, "Do you want to go grab some food?" Jay questioned taking a long drink of his beer, "Like a last minute date?" Jay added eyeing Sophia carefully.

Sophia thought for a moment, "So this is your idea of date then huh? Whisk me away while I'm dancing?" Sophia questioned.

"Yeah, pretty much." Jay nodded his head amused, "So what do you say?" Jay questioned.

"I'll take it." Sophia smiled and Jay held out a hand for her to take. Jay had led her through the bar and towards door, then led her to his truck. Jay had opened the door to his vehicle for her, and smiled when she had thanked him. He had jogged to the driver's side and jumped in quickly.

The man looked to Sophia to see her outfit since he had gotten an idea at the spur of the moment. She had on a pair of black boots, a pair of dark jeans, and a gray t-shirt with a blue flannel over it. Her dark hair was lightly curled falling down to the middle of her back, and her make-up was subtle but stood out elegantly. Jay had looked to his back seat making sure that he had his spare jacket, since he had the idea of picking up food, then taking her to the pier to eat by the water.

"So where are we going Detective?" Sophia questioned as Jay drove off out of the parking spot.

"It's a surprise." Jay teased.

He had known some of Sophia's favorite foods since they would text through out the day and well into the evening, and had realized there was an Indian restaurant open for it being almost eleven at night. As he drove to the restaurant, the inside of the truck was quiet and content, almost peaceful to be exact.

"We're getting food to go by the way..." Jay stated after a short drive to the restaurant and pulled up in front of the place and parked the truck.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Sophia remarked as they both climbed out of the truck, and headed inside to order the food.

Once the food was ordered, they had to wait a few minutes for it to be brought out to them, and Jay had started his truck up and began to drive towards the closest lake. When he had arrived about twenty minutes later, Jay had reached into the backseat of his truck and gotten his spare hoodie instead of his jacket for her.

"You might want this." Jay offered, watching as Sophia took the black hoodie and put it on, and then tilted her head to pile her hair in a bun at the top of her head.

"Such a gentleman." Sophia commented as she had gotten out of the truck, noticing that the truck bed was parked facing the water, slightly in the sand to the small beach, "Do you happen to have a blanket somewhere in there?" Sophia questioned and Jay chuckled as he got out of the truck and into the back seat, pulling out a spare blanket he kept in there for emergencies.

Jay had walked to the end of the truck, pulling the truck bed down and laying the blanket out on the metal, and then laid the food on the truck, then held out a hand for Sophia to take, to help her into the back of the truck, climbing in after her.

Once the food and drinks were situated, Jay and Sophia had eaten quietly, enjoying the silence around them. The sky was dark and clear filled with the stars and the moon allowing enough light to be able to see what they were eating. Once they were finished, Jay had gathered the empty cartons, putting it back into the sacks and then pushed it to the side and leaned back against the truck, with Sophia doing the same, but leaning against Jay's side.

"This is by far one of the better dates I've had." Sophia commented lowly as she cuddled further into Jay's side for warmth, his arm going around her shoulders as a make-shift pillow.

"Really?" Jay questioned almost in shock.

"I like the simplicity of things. It's so quiet and peaceful. There's not a soul around giving judgy eyes. No distractions." Sophia had replied, "Do you do this often with girls?" Sophia questioned curiously.

"Actually, I've never did this with anyone. You're the first." Jay answered honestly.

"Well, I'm flattered." Sophia rested her head against Jay's chest the best she could while they both stared up at the sky.

Jay had used his free hand to lace his fingers around hers that was laying on his chest. He had rolled himself to the side, making sure to not move his arm that she was using as her pillow, and found himself looking directly into her eyes. His large hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her cheek softly. He watched as she licked her bottom lip in anticipation, and he found himself slowly moving in to kiss her lips. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut once his lips made contact with hers, his hand moving to the curve of her neck, pulling her just a little bit closer.

The moment their lips touched, Sophia felt a spark inside of her, her heart swelled at the sensation. She opened her mouth to his, allowing their tongues to explore one another. Jay's hand moved from her neck, down to her hip, giving it a squeeze and then lacing up her back to hold her even closer. Sophia's hand rested against Jay's neck, while the other laced under his jacket to his side. Jay pulled away for a breath, his forehead resting against hers, "If I don't stop now, I don't think I'll be able to stop, and I sure as hell don't want you to think that I'm only here for sex." Jay spoke with a shaky breath.

Sophia had thought that was the most respectable thing anyone has ever said to her before but she had nodded her head in agreement. She did not want to just jump into bed with Jay Halstead because he was charming, sweet and handsome. She had wanted to take the time to get to know him better, because she had been down the road of being carefree before.

"You...you're right." Sophia breathed out, her heart beating fast in her chest, "I want to get to know you a little more before we cross that bridge."

"So you do want to cross that bridge at some point?" Jay questioned, his forehead pressing against hers, pecking her lips with a small smile causing her to let out a laugh.

"Maybe at some point. Let's see what cards you have up your sleeve first." Sophia joked, burying her face into the crook of his neck, feeling his lips press against her head.

"I'm not going anywhere, so you'll see all of the cards at some point." Jay commented as he relaxed against Sophia's body melting against his, "Got nothing but time for this..."

#nbc chicago pd #jay halstead #detective jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead one shot #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x oc #Won't Let Go Chapter 2

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pop-punklouis · 4 years

Note

hi hope! i saw that you’re really big into film and tv. do you have any tv shows you could rec? i need something new to watch.

hiya grey! and of course. i always have tv shows on hand to rec

• Dark (3 Seasons)

When two children go missing in a small German town, its sinful past is exposed along with the double lives and fractured relationships that exist among four families as they search for the kids. The mystery-drama series introduces an intricate puzzle filled with twists that includes a web of curious characters, all of whom have a connection to the town's troubled history -- whether they know it or not. The story includes supernatural elements that tie back to the same town in 1986.

• Portlandia (8 Seasons)

this absurdist series set in Portland, Ore., that gently pokes fun at the laid-back Pacific Northwest city and the many eccentric characters that call it home. Among the many recurring guest stars on the series are Ed Begley Jr., Jeff Goldblum, Natasha Lyonne, Kumail Nanjiani and Kyle MacLachlan, who plays Portlandia's mayor.

• Parfum (limited series)

When a woman is found murdered with scent glands excised from her body, a detective probes a group of friends who attended boarding school with her.

• Trinkets (2 Seasons)

A grieving teenager finds an unexpected connection with two classmates at her new high school when they all land in the same Shoplifters Anonymous group.

• Fleabag (2 Seasons)

A dry-witted woman, known only as Fleabag, has no filter as she navigates life and love in London while trying to cope with tragedy. The angry, grief-riddled woman tries to heal while rejecting anyone who tries to help her, but Fleabag continues to keep up her bravado through it all.

• I Know This Much is True (limited series)

Middle-aged Dominick Birdsey recounts his troubled relationship with Thomas, his paranoid schizophrenic twin brother, and his efforts to get him released from an asylum. (Mark Ruffalo’s best performance to date)

• The Vow (limited series)

Following the experiences of people deeply involved in the self-improvement group NXIVM, an organization under siege with charges including sex trafficking and racketeering conspiracy brought against its highest members and founder Keith Raniere

• The Outsider (limited series)

Based on Stephen King's best-selling novel of the same name, "The Outsider" begins by following an investigation which at first seems like it will be simple and straightforward but things change as it leads into the gruesome murder of a young boy by a seasoned cop. When an insidious supernatural force edges its way into the case, it leads the investigators to question everything they believe in.

• Peaky Blinders (5 Seasons)

Britain is a mixture of despair and hedonism in 1919 in the aftermath of the Great War. Returning soldiers, newly minted revolutions and criminal gangs are fighting for survival in a nation rocked by economic upheaval. One of the most powerful gangs of the time is the Peaky Blinders, run by returning war hero Thomas Shelby and his family. But Thomas has bigger ambitions than just running the streets. When a crate of guns goes missing, he recognizes an opportunity to advance in the world because crime may pay but legitimate business pays better. Trying to rid Britain of its crime is Inspector Chester Campbell, who arrives from Belfast to try to achieve that goal.

• Schitts Creek (6 Seasons)

a wealthy couple -- video store magnate Johnny and his soap opera star wife Moira -- suddenly find themselves completely broke. With only one remaining asset, a small town called Schitt's Creek, which the Roses bought years earlier as a joke, this once-wealthy couple must give up life as they know it. With their two spoiled children in tow and their pampered lives behind them, the Rose family is forced to face their newfound poverty head-on and come together as a family to survive.

• Mindhunter (2 Seasons)

Catching a criminal often requires the authorities to get inside the villain's mind to figure out how he thinks. That's the job of FBI agents Holden Ford and Bill Tench. They attempt to understand and catch serial killers by studying their damaged psyches. Along the way, the agents pioneer the development of modern serial-killer profiling.

• Mr. Robot (4 Seasons)

Young, anti-social computer programmer Elliot works as a cybersecurity engineer during the day, but at night he is a vigilante hacker. He is recruited by the mysterious leader of an underground group of hackers to join their organization. Elliot's task? Help bring down corporate America, including the company he is paid to protect, which presents him with a moral dilemma. Although he works for a corporation, his personal beliefs make it hard to resist the urge to take down the heads of multinational companies that he believes are running -- and ruining -- the world.

• Dark Tourist (1 Season)

Journalist David Farrier focuses on that area of travel, known as dark tourism, in this docuseries. In each episode, Farrier travels to a different locale to visit destinations and have experiences that wouldn't be on most vacationers' bucket lists. He embeds himself in a death-worshipping cult in Mexico, sees tourists soaking up radiation left behind in Fukushima, meets vampires in New Orleans, and travels to the most-nuked place on Earth for atomic swimming and fishing.

• Maniac (Limited Series)

Annie Landsberg and Owen Milgrim are two strangers who are drawn to the late stages of a mysterious pharmaceutical trial. Each has a different reason for participating in the experiment -- she is disaffected and aimless, fixated on broken relationships with her mother and sister, while he has struggled throughout his life with a disputed diagnosis of schizophrenia. The radical treatment, using pills that the inventor claims can repair anything about the mind, draws Annie, Owen and 10 other subjects into a three-day drug trial that they're told will permanently solve all of their problems, with no complications or side effects. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned.

• The Witcher (2 Seasons)

The witcher Geralt, a mutated monster hunter, struggles to find his place in a world where people often prove more wicked than beasts.

• Living with Yourself (Limited Series)

A man who's burned out on life and love undergoes a mysterious treatment, only to find that he's been replaced by a better version of himself.

• The Society (cancelled after one season unfortunately)

The Society follows a group of teenagers who are mysteriously transported to a facsimile of their wealthy New England town, left without any trace of their parents. As they struggle to figure out what has happened to them and how to get home, they must establish order and form alliances if they want to survive. The series is a modern take on Lord of the Flies.

• I Am Not Okay With This (1 Season)

I Am Not Okay With This is an irreverent origin story that follows a teenage girl who's navigating the trials and tribulations of high school, all while dealing with the complexities of her family, her budding sexuality, and mysterious superpowers just beginning to awaken deep within her.

• The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (1 Season)

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance returns to the world of Thra with an all new adventure. When three Gelfling discover the horrifying secret behind the Skeksis' power, they set out on an epic journey to ignite the fires of rebellion and save their world.

• Grace and Frankie (6 Seasons)

Two nemeses become bonded jilted wives after their husbands reveal they have been having an affair with each other since the 1990s and now plan to get married.

• Special (1 Season)

A young gay man with cerebral palsy branches out from his insular existence in hopes of finally going after the life he wants.

• Russian Doll (1 Season)

Russian Doll follows a young woman named Nadia (Natasha Lyonne) on her journey as the guest of honor at a seemingly inescapable party one night in New York City.

• American Vandal (2 Seasons)

American Vandal is a half-hour true-crime satire that explores the aftermath of a costly high school prank that left twenty-seven faculty cars vandalized with phallic images. Over the course of the eight-episode season, an aspiring sophomore documentarian investigates the controversial and potentially unjust expulsion of troubled senior (and known dick-drawer) Dylan Maxwell. Not unlike its now iconic true-crime predecessors, the addictive American Vandal will leave one question on everyone's minds until the very end: Who drew the dicks?

• Immigration Nation (1 Season)

A rare and expansive look into the consequences of unfettered power, Immigration Nation is a powerful, harrowing indictment of the current state of American immigration.

#grey

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batfamfucker · 4 years

Text

Headcanons I have for the batfam (mostly just Bruce actually being a good dad because DC's still on some BS):

-All the batkids + Bruce cuddle a lot, especially on 'nightmare/night terror nights', nightmares and night terrors, unsurprisingly, happen a lot. It's not uncommon for one of the kids to either go to their closest sibling's room and pile in with them, or straight to Bruce's room. Doesn't matter how old they are, it's just a thing they do, and every member of the family just accepts it, embraces it even. No one ever gets shit for it. It doesn't matter how tired person B is, if person A comes in for any reason at all, even if they haven't had a nightmare and just want some cuddles, person B has no complaints. It can either be a no questions asked kinda thing or they can stay up and talk about it. Sometimes person B doesn't even get woken up, but instinctively grabs person A in their sleep and wraps them up in a big protective sleepy embrace. It's also not uncommon for word to get around about which room becomes the designated sleeping area for that night. Like, if Jason walks past Bruce's room and sees Damian curled up at his side, both of them fast asleep, he'll go right in and join. Then it'll continue with more joining depending on how many walk past, sometimes someone will even text the family group chat and be like 'Go to Bruce's room if you want cuddles'. It's also not uncommon for the whole family to be piled into the same bed in a singular night, especially after a rough night of crime fighting. Duke took a while to get used to this, but when he was sleeping at the manor one time, Damian came into his room. He was quiet and nervous, and Duke swears he saw him about to cry, and just opened his arms wide immediately. The moment Damian's small head was buried in his chest, it hit him why they did this, and he immediately understood. The next morning, he woke up to every sibling and one of the dogs in his bed. He couldn't stop smiling for a week.

-Mass sleepovers, which I've already described here

-Mass games of hide and seek around the manor, game night in general. Monopoly has been banned twice and still manages to get played every time

-They have a family group chat

-Steph and Duke are the only two Bruce hasn’t legally adopted, but he has everything ready should he need to

-Movie nights in the manor theatre once every month on the last Friday

-Bruce loves his kids and tells them he's proud of them often, tells them he loves them (sometimes verbal, sometimes silently through gestures, post-it notes, etc), has a separate calendar dedicated just to their birthdays, uses his detective skills to find them the perfect gifts, etc. Sometimes he just gets them gifts at random times. He'll see a cute dress in a shop window and think 'Steph will love this', Tim will complain offhandedly that he's running out of pens, and boom the next time he walks into his room, there's a brand new pack of stationary on his desk.

-Bruce has always tried to take them all to school every day and tried to pick them up as much as he can, which he's done since he first adopted Dick. He remembers how tiny Dick's first school bag was on his own back when he used to carry it for him. All neon blue with neon green straps. Sometimes he'd have Alfred stay at the manor and drive himself just so he could go on a walk and take Dick out for ice cream. He's done this with all his kids at least once.

-Adding on to this, Bruce tries to show them his support about everything, what their passionate about, school events, etc. Parents evening? It's the third one this week but he's going. Cass wants to show him her new dance choreography? He'll grab some popcorn and invite the others. Tim just took a really cool photo and wants to show Bruce? He makes sure to hype it up as much as he possibly can.

-Designated days where Bruce will hang out with a singular kid, which isn't on their birthday, to show them they're important and appreciated and not forgotten. Sometimes one of his kids will come to him, sometimes ask, sometimes some of them just kind of stand there awkwardly until he catches on, and he'll drop everything and take them out to see a movie or something. Just the two of them, just so they feel loved. His family comes first.

-Eat breakfast and dinner together as often as possible, you never know when there'll be an empty chair at the table so they try to savour as many meals (moments together in general) as possible. Every Friday night is designated family dinned night which starts just before patrol.

-Falling outs don't last that long because of this. You never know which fight you'll never get to apologise for or which word you'll never get to take back because anything can happen when you're a vigilante. You may not always return from patrol. Even Tim and Damian try to fight less after a few scares, trying not to take one another for granted. Yeah, they all be stubborn and fight now and again, but in the end, they all love each other and being stubborn and prideful isn't worth possibly leaving things on bad terms every time they put on that uniform

-Every time a newbie joins the family, they have a family meal together to watch the 'moment of truth' where the newbie tastes Alfred's cooking for the first time. They'll all discretely wait for the newbie to eat before digging in themselves, subtly watching as they try the food. It's Alfred's cooking, so they obviously always like it. The moment the newbie looks as though they enjoy the food, Alfred smiles and fills will pride, which makes the rest of the family happy, too.

-Lots of quiet but casual 'I love yous' from the kids. Dick openly says it to every sibling, with a million kisses to someone's cheeks and hair, and a bone crushing hug. Others may be quieter. Jason will leave a post-it on Bruce's computer, get a small plant for Alfred to put in the garden, grabs Tim a coffee if he's going past a coffee place on his way home, ruffles Damian's hair as he walks past and grins when Damian gets annoyed. Damian, like Bruce, takes into account people's interests or what's important to them (like when he found all of Martha's pearls for Bruce), he'll find an original book copy from an author, no matter how old is it, for Jason and Alfred, knows the exact pair of new ballet shoes Cass has been wanting for her birthday. He pays attention to detail and goes the extra mile.

-Older siblings 100% put themselves before the younger ones when in danger, especially if Bruce isn't there. If he is, he puts himself in front of all the kids. Oldest to youngest, starts with Bruce, then Jason and Dick, Tim and Steph, Duke and Cass, then Damian.

-Every Christmas, the kids that live at the manor/stayed the night will all get up and wait for each other outside Bruce's door. When everyone's there, they sneak in and then wake him up by jumping on the bed before piling onto him, crushing both him and each other in the process. Bruce swears they've broken his ribs on more then one occasion. It was fine when it was just eight-year-old Dick, but now it's anywhere between 3-8 kids, some of which are fully grown adults, just playing a game of pile on to wake him up. Either way, it makes them happy so he doesn't mind too much, even if they bruise him

-Alfred also cooks cultural meals. The family is very diverse, after all. He cooks traditional Romanian meals for Dick, Arabic cuisine for Damian, etc. Especially if he sees one of the kids looking a bit down or upset as a way of cheering them up

-Alfred is the real detective of the family, at least when it comes to food. He knows everyone's allergies without them even telling him, knows how everyone likes their food, even if they have the same meal. For example, if they're all having burgers, he knows Damian will have a veggie one, Dick and Steph like extra pickles, Duke likes extra cheese but no ketchup, Tim hates pickes, etc. Also knows how eveyone like their drinks with which meals, which drink they'll likely be in the mood for depending on their day and mood, how Damian likes his tea depending on how he's feeling, how everyone likes their protein shakes. Knows what proportions of food are perfect for each individual, Jason and Bruce eat the most, Cass and Damian the least, knows how much to plate up for each person so they won't get full but will still fill up

-Alfred and Jason bake together a lot

-Alfred and Damain have tea together

-Alfred is the only straight person in the whole family but he is not one of The StraightsTM, strong ally, loves his son and all his grandchildren no matter what. Every time someone new comes out, he just puts on a lil' pride badge and goes about his day

Bonus:

-Kate gets annoyed every time another batperson comes out (not really tho) because it destroys her cred of being the gay cousin/lesbian aunt the more and more it happpens

-Still goes to Christmas dinner with them even if she's Jewish because she likes the atmosphere and the food is good, and because loves them all

-They have a Hanukkah dinner with her in return

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obligatorynasty · 5 years

Photo

Pretty sure stripper!peter has been done before, but my brain wouldn’t let me write anything else unless I wrote this first, so yeah. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Silk and Honey (Stripper!Peter)

“FRI, you’re sure this is the place?” Tony stood atop an adjacent building, donning his stealth suit and staring down at the mess of neon lights, drunk patrons, and loud music spilling from the establishment.

“Yes,” FRIDAY replied. “Surveillance from nearby security and traffic cameras indicate that the target, Spider-Man, was last seen entering this building from a back entrance at approximately 9:50 PM.”

“FRIDAY, this is a strip club.”

“That is a correct assessment of the location, boss.”

“I don’t remember programming any of that sass.” Tony grinned, knowing that the AI must have learned it from him. “Okay, let’s ditch the suit.” He jumped into an alleyway, easing his fall with his boot thrusters as the nanotech melted away from his body to reveal a classic Tony Stark gray suit. “I can see the headlines now: Tony Stark enters Gay Strip Club under the Guise of Night.” He laughed as he fastened his cuff buttons, adjusted his hair, and placed his signature sunglasses on his face. “Pep’s not going to let me hear the end of this one, is she?”

FRIDAY’s interface gleamed across the surface of the glasses, “Analysis of previous instances leads to a no, boss.”

Tony rolled his eyes at his digital assistant and exited the alley. As he approached the building, crowds of eyes and gossip surrounded him, yet, he kept himself in stride, completely unfazed by the chatter. He was used to it after all. At the door, a bouncer’s face lit up, “Oh wow! Sir, you’re Tony Stark!”

“Yes,” Tony sighed. “And you’re nondescript strip club bouncer.” He gave the man a bored look. “And you also happen to be in the way.” The smug grin that undoubtedly appeared on his lips was one that Rhodey always told him not to use because it’s rude and makes people feel inferior. But Tony had no time to worry about the bouncer’s response. He had a spider to catch.

The inside of the club was dimly lit with purple hues, save for the stage which was basked in a warm red spotlight. The place reeked of boozy drinks and the men that drank them. They sat in chairs that encircled the stage, grabbing at the young male servers and throwing dollars at the blonde stripper dancing around the center pole. The music was energetic and the dancer was even more so, popping his body in time and gaining perverted whistles from the groups of men.

Tony took a seat at the bar that spanned the back wall and tapped against the wooden surface to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey, you.”

The bartender peeked up. “Yes, sir?”

“Would you happen to know if any high school kids work here?”

“No, sir! Absolutely not!” The bartender was adamant. “Everyone who works here is eighteen or older. We would never hire someone younger than that.”

“Sure you wouldn’t.” Tony deadpanned. “Then does someone by the name Pe-?”

“Now wasn’t that just a phenomenal performance! Show our boy some love!” The DJ’s voice boomed over the music, and Tony’s conversation, as the blonde boy on stage quickly collected his earnings and sauntered backstage. “The next dancer we have for you is our newest boy-” The men hollered at the announcement like a pack of wild dogs. “And clearly a fan favorite I see. Let’s get those dollars out for the young, gravity-defying beauty himself. Make some noise for Silk and Honey!”

All the lights in the club went dark, except for the stage’s red spotlight, and the men practically howled when it happened. From behind the curtain, a young boy stepped onto the stage and posed, face turned away from the crowd. He wore a loose black outfit that covered every inch of his body and as the music began lowly drumming through the darkness, the fabric flowed in time.

The kid swayed his hips to the sensual rhythms and took ginger steps towards the pole. His feet strapped in shiny sliver stilettos and his nose and mouth covered in a white silk mask that hooked on the ears. He clutched the pole, strutting around it and rolling his body to the music. And when one man screamed a very distracting ‘Take it off!’, the boy obliged. Without halting his mesmerizing movements, the kid’s hands danced at the bottom of the loose shirt in a tease before pulling upwards, revealing a white strappy chest harness that made Tony’s mouth go dry. The pants were next to go. They tore away in a quick motion and unveiled a pair of silk booty shorts that cupped his body in a way that left nothing to the imagination.

“Boss, image analysis indicates that Silk and Honey’s physique is an exact match for Spider-Man’s.”

***

“Okay, let’s just not talk for a sec, FRI.” Tony blushed, realizing that he was being enraptured by his target but making the hasty decision to let himself have this. He wanted to watch.

The kid grabbed the pole again and hopped towards it, his legs hooking the pole at the knees as his body spun around effortlessly. The sensual rotations gained delighted cheers from the men fawning over him. As he eased himself down into a headstand, they threw stacks of ones against the stage, and as he dropped his legs into a split, the crowd clapped and whistled. From his place at the bar, Tony intensely stared, unbelievably enamored with the boy’s flexible body and the way it moved.

The kid commanded the attention of everyone in the room. He was breathtaking. His performance was full of aerial tricks; spins and kicks and climbs and drops. Tony found himself holding his breath, especially when those heels clicked together or those creamy legs spread apart and the light hit them just right. Or when he dropped against the floor on his knees and bent over like he was being fucked. Tony knew it was just typical stripper floor work – there was nothing inherently special about it – but something about the way the kid did it made blood rush to Tony’s pants.

Then the kid’s song began to culminate, and the hollering from the men was in crescendo as if to beg for one final move. And the kid rewarded them. He climbed to the top of the pole and flipped, maintaining his poise and treating the ceiling as the floor. Again, he strutted around the pole, rolling his body to the music, but this time, he was upside down. It was so beautiful and seamless and, just as the DJ said, gravity-defying. Tony wanted to watch more. He almost needed it.

The kid finished his performance with a drop that made the whole room gasp. He was centimeters off the floor, thighs clutching the pole, body in an alluring plank, and eyes smiling at his fans who showered his body in money.

“Give it up for the illustrious Silk and Honey! Always a treat when he hits the stage!” As the DJ spoke and the kid collected his earnings, the low purple lights switched back on. “Before we move on to our next dancer, my boss says I must remind you that private shows can be requested at the bar! Now, next up...” The DJ began announcing the next talent but Tony stopped listening; his brain overrun by thoughts of the kid’s performance.

“Boss, I’m detecting an increased heart rate and blood pooling in the gr-”

“Didn’t I ask for no talking?” Tony whispered under his breath.

“You requested a sec, which, through analyzing your usage statistics, I have calculated to be somewhere in the interval of one second to two hours. Therefore, I am unable to deduce the proper amount of waiting time.”

Tony rolled his eyes at his AI, ignoring her sass once again and, instead, grabbing the bartender’s attention. “Get me a private room with Silk and Honey.”

“Yes, sir.” The bartender nodded and began ringing up Tony’s purchase on the register. “How much time would you like to-?”

“All of it.”

“Excuse me?”

“All of it,” Tony repeated with a sarcastic glint in his eye. “As in from now until closing.”

The bartender gave a surprised face but didn’t dare question the large sum of money Tony dropped on the boy. “You can go to the third room. He will meet you there.”

Without a thank you, Tony moved towards the private room area to the left of the bar. It was separated by a satin curtain and guarded by a bouncer that nodded and waved him in as he approached. The hallway was filled with the aroma of liquor and the sounds of satisfied men. When Tony reached the third door, it had a small sign hanging on it with Silk and Honey written in cursive.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s gaze snapped to the voice behind him. The kid was standing there. His mouth and nose were still hidden behind his mask and his body was still wrapped in that sexy leather harness, those eye-catching heels, and those scandalous short shorts. Tony’s breath caught but he parted his lips to speak anyway. “That would be me, kid.”

The kid’s eyes sparkled and his cheeks raised, and Tony couldn’t help but picture the sweet smile that lay beneath the veil. “Thank you for paying for me tonight.” He placed a hand in Tony’s and pushed open the door. Inside was lit like the club, low and purple. There was a raised platform with a single pole and a sofa facing it. “Sit here, Mr. Stark. I want you to be very comfortable.”

Tony took a seat, “How old are you, kid?”

“I’m of age.” The kid’s heels rhythmically clicked against the black linoleum as he stepped on top of the platform, placing a hand on the pole. “Now, is there anything special that I can do for you, Mr. Stark?”

Tony cleared his throat, knowing that he needed to throw away his attraction to the kid and focus on his mission. He knew he needed to confront him about being Spider-Man. He knew he had to ask why Peter Parker, a seventeen year-old high school student, was working as a stripper. He knew he had to do these things. But he didn’t.

“Why don’t you start by taking those shorts off for me?”

Part 2: x

#starker #obligatorywrites

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daylightinathousandcuts · 4 years

Text

Reddie oneshot - ‘Cheeks As Red As Rudolph’s Nose’

Summary: Richie buys an ugly Christmas jumper, but lies to the shop assistant and says it’s for his mum in embarrassment. Later, Richie sees the cute shop assistant again, while wearing said awful jumper.

Richie loved the idea of Christmas.

Christmas time was a happy, joyful time in which you’d see your family and friends. It seemed amazing, and it was - when you had family or friends, or even a boyfriend, it’s spend it with. But this year, Richie was alone.

He had his family, sure. But after moving out of Derry to New York to fulfil his acting career, which his family were supportive of, he was broke. And so were they. Meaning, he did not have the money to go and visit this Christmas. Be with his family.

Being alone didn't seem so bad anyways. He didn't need people to have a Christmas dinner, and he didn't need people to watch stupid Christmas movies and eat chocolate with.

He didn't need it, but he wanted it.

Taking a long, self-deprecating sigh, Richie glanced at the Christmas decorations as he stepped into his local store, Morrisons.

Deciding to not be a complete grinch and actually have involve himself in the Christmas spirit, he quickly grabbed a basket and popped a few, cheap and tacky Christmas decorations in.

And then, he saw it.

An ugly Christmas jumper, that happened to be the mouldiest shade of yellow possible. It had a bad excuse for a Christmas pudding plastered in the middle, and the designer had made the poor choice to have the pudding dripping off the jumper (when really the pudding just ended up looking like shit, literal shit).

Richie snorted, prancing over time jab at it and make some funny comments to poor shoppers walking by; when he finally touched it.

And holy shit, was this jumper soft. Running his fingers through the fabric felt like heaven.

Trying to keep his pride, Richie quickly scattered through the racks before finding his size, and throwing it in his basket. Grabbing a chocolate bar and a sandwich, he made his way over to the self-checkouts, not in the mood to talk to an overly enthusiastic cashier that day.

But it was just his luck today, because as he scanned his "ugly but looks really

comfortable" Christmas jumper, ‘Satan’s Girlfriend’, as Richie called the self scan alert; making people turn to look at Richie.

'Please place your item in the bagging area.' The voice said, and Richie groaned in annoyance.

"It's in the fucking bagging area!" Richie shouted at the self-scanner gaining him some strange looks from confused shoppers. Some glaring at him for his language.

"Do you need any help?" A quiet, timid voice said from behind him. Richie just nodded in annoyance, not even bothering to turn around and look the shop assistant in the eye.

Richie groaned, “Uh, yeah. This machine has got a major case of dumb bitch disease. It doesn’t even realise my shit is in the bagging area.” He complained, still slamming the Christmas jumper onto the bagging area repeatedly.

"Wait,” the shop assistant said, obviously a little startled by Richie’s aggressive nature. “let me help you out." The man said, and Richie turned around to face him.

And holy shit, was he cute.

Richie grinned, “Can I put you in the bagging area? Or somewhere else, if you’d like?”

The man (or angel, as Richie had just decided) only scoffed, before swiping his badge onto the self scan checkout.

He looked back up at Richie, “There, all sorted.” He said, looking down at Richie’s shopping. “tell me if-“

He paused suddenly. Richie seemed to notice a distraction so he filled the gap, “what’s the matter? Am I too beautiful to handle?”

The man glared at Richie, but it was obvious he was surpressing a smile, “seriously?” He started. “You’re buying that?” He finished, pointing at the ugly and ridiculous Christmas jumper.

Richie, for the first time ever, was lost for words.

"You know, you’re the first person I've seen buying that Christmas jumper." The shop assistant continued. “It’s the ugliest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Richie panicked and tried to think of millions of excuses, before attempting to hide his burning red cheeks and stumbling out a weak, "What?”

The shop assistant pointed down at the Christmas jumper Caspar was now stuffing into his plastic bag. "They aren't very popular, you obviously like the more...different kind of styles."

Richie shrugged, regaining his posture, "It's for my mum." He lied. "She always likes ones like the ugly ones. Makes her feel more christmassy. Do you seriously think I’d put a jumper like that, on a body like this?” He asked, jokingly running a hand on his hip.

Yes, I would, Richie thought.

The shop assistant didn’t respond, and looked slightly flustered at Richie’s action and words.

“Anyways,” Richie started. “What’s your name then, sweet cheeks?”

“Don’t call me that.” The shop assistant quickly responded. “And it’s Eddie.” He smiled.

Richie grinned in return, “Well, Ed’s, I think you’d look pretty damn cute in one of these jumpers. You’d make it work.” He commented.

“Don’t call me that either,” Eddie snapped again. “And-“

Before Eddie could finish his sentence, another one of the self scan machines went off. Eddie flashed him an apologetic grin before quickly jogging over to fix the problem.

Richie, in a moment of quick panic, payed with his contactless card and started for the exits. He felt like he was going to pass out, but, in a good way he convinced himself. Cuteness overload maybe, he thought.

He felt damn stupid walking away, but he knew he’d see him again, he’d make sure of it. But he’d be more prepared.

It was now Christmas Eve and Richie, like planned, was alone. He was frantically cleaning his apartment preparing for Christmas Day, even though nobody was coming over.

"Oh crap," He mumbled to himself. "I haven't brought any lunch."

He rumaged through his cupboards hoping there would be something to eat in there, anything at all. The truth was, if there was nothing in there, then he'd have to go to Morrisons. There were no restaurants or other places where he could get food nearby by walking distance.

He could have punched someone when he realised he had to go to Morrisons. Not because he hates it there, because he might bump into Eddie again. And he was terrified, he's been thinking about him since that day in the Morrisons with the self-scanner.

He was halfway to Morrisons, remembering what had happened. Firstly he ran out the store, and ran straight into the revolving doors straight after the automatic doors. He ate his chocolate bar on the way home out of worry from just meeting Eddie, and for the jumper, he was wearing it right now.

Fucking hell, he thought. He was wearing the Christmas jumper right now. In plain sight, without a coat or anything. He was too lazy to go back and get his coat or change, and not to mention absolutely starving.

There was a chance he could bump into Eddie, and he's probably going to laugh at him for his stupid Christmas jumper. And be angry at him for lying and never ever want to see him again or even breathe the same air and oh no...he was fucked.

After a few moments of waiting outside Morrisons car park planning what to do, he finally decided to turn on his ninja mode and successfully get a sandwich and bag of crisps and pay for them without being spotted by Eddie.

He put his plan into action, by firstly sprinting to the other end of the store to where all the sandwhiches were. Possibly knocking a few things down in the process, but he considered it collateral damage.

He grabbed a chicken sandwhich, and walked over to the crisps. Grabbing a packet of Salt and Vinegar, his plan seemed be turning out very successful.

Paying for it was the hard bit, because that's where Eddie was.

Cute cute cute Eddie. Who made Richie nervous in a good way. Who Richie had chickened out and walked away from in a moment of gay panic.

Richie did some kind of run-jogging thing over to the tills and placed his items down.

Eddie, to Richie’s luck, was at the self scanners. This was his best bet.

"I'm sorry sir, you need ten or more items to use the tills. Can you please take your items to the self-scanner?"

Okay so now this was his worst bet.

He nodded in defeat, and grabbed his food and tried to go over without being spotted. He placed his items down and scanned the crisps, when suddenly the lady blasted out again with the 'place your items in the bagging area.'

"Oh...shh up! I'll pay you extra money if you just be quiet-"

"Hey.” A voice said behind him. It was Eddie, of course it was.

Richie tried not to turn his body around so he wouldn't see his jumper, and he attempted to get out of this.

"Don’t worry, everything is fine. Go back to your scanning shit or whatever!” He almost begged.

Richie, still trying to scan his sandwich hopelessly trying to get out of this, looked like a mad man. It wasn't working affectively because he couldn't see what he was doing, and his hand was shaking. He was sure he hit someone. He couldn't think of any excuses, "I’m not who you think I am.”

"What are you talking about?" Eddie asked with a sigh. “If you need help-“

“No I’m fine.” Richie cut him off.

‘Item not detected’ the lady rang out again.

Eddie huffed loudly, "For Gods sakes, if you don't want to talk to me just say. But at least let me help you so the machine can shut up.”

Richie shook his head, "It's not that." He breathed out. "I'm bisexual and I saw you yesterday and I nearly passed out because you were so hot and nice and stuff.” He glanced up to see Eddie looking at him intently.

“So I ran because I was scared because I've been alone for a while and now I'm here and I'm trying to get away from you because I'm in that ugly Christmas jumper that‘s actually super comfortable but embarrassing.” Richie blurted.

Eddie nodded, a small smile on his lips, “so it’s not for your mum?” He questioned. Richie just shook his head.

He giggled, which Richie almost passed out again at, "I thought you hated me. Now turn around, I want to see you with this Christmas jumper on."

Richie nodded, "Okay." He turned around and Eddie burst out laughing. Richie decided it was his favourite sound.

"I have to be honest, it really suits you." He said muffled by laughter.

"Are you trying to say that I'm ugly?" Richie playfully joked, and Eddie looked up at him.

"No, quite the opposite, actually." Eddie commented. “I never asked your name.”

“Richie,” he breathed out. “Richie Tozier.”

At that moment, a lady in the line for the self-scanner spoke up, "excuse me, you are kind of holding up the que." she said politely.

They both nodded and apologised before Richie paid the money, and took his sandwich and crisps.

"But surely you knew I was going to be here." Eddie told him as they walked a respectable distance from the self-scanners. "So why wear the Christmas jumper? If you said it was for your mum after all.”

Richie shrugged, "I was cleaning my apartment and I decided to be more festive so I put on some Christmas music and my jumper. I then discovered I actually didn't have any thing to eat, and I wouldn't admit it but I really wanted to see you again even though I was worried and...yeah I forgot I was wearing it."

Eddie laughed, "Okay, how's this. I take you out on a date tonight. But one rule, you don't wear the Christmas jumper on our date. I promise I won't wear my ugly Christmas jumper." He giggled.

Richie took his hand to shake, but he didn't let go afterwards, "Yeah,” He agreed. “Sounds groovy.”

Eddie almost groaned, “don’t say groovy.”

Richie only winked in return, “the Christmas jumper won't be the only thing I won't be wearing."

#reddiememe #it chapter ii #it chapter one #richie tozier #richie and eddie #reddiefanfiction #reddie #eddiekaspbrak

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bran-writes · 4 years

Text

AK Character Profile: AJ Longoria

AJ found that in the absence of him speaking, people would sometimes overcompensate and fill the dead space. That taught him a lot about who they were.

TW: Violence, suicide

Abel Jay Longoria

18 years old

Born October 20th, 2022

Mixed- White and Hispanic

Gay

Born in Ventura, California in the fall of 2022, AJ’s early life was fraught with anxiety and constant arguing between his parents until they separated when he was five. Not even a year later, AJ’s life would be turned upside down when he and his mother, Anita, were brutally attacked in their apartment by serial killer David Barnes(nicknamed The Painter by the press). Anita died on the scene and Barnes fled when neighbors approached the door, leaving AJ bound and bleeding on the kitchen floor. Shortly after hearing the news, AJ’s father, Donnie Kitsak, committed suicide.

After the attack that nearly killed the boy, AJ was left only with what hospital doctors would later relay to investigators as traumatic selective mutism- he refused to speak to detectives, hospital personnel, child services, or anyone else. Investigators eventually found his uncle, William Kitsak, and AJ was sent to live with him in town.

While the serial killer would eventually be apprehended and convicted( based off DNA under Anita Longoria’s fingernails), AJ still lived with mutism- despite extensive therapy. When it became apparent to Billy that AJ wasn’t going to be speaking any time soon, the man enrolled both AJ and himself in sign language courses so that the boy could feel more comfortable communicating.

At the age of 9, AJ and Billy moved to Three Pines Colorado where the latter was offered a job working at a gun range as well as supporting a company who trained actors and extras. It was then AJ met Kwin Bergeron and the two became inseparable shortly after.

AJ, in his childhood, quickly realized he was gay and meeting Kwin confirmed that. But, AJ was in a new town, had made new friends and was afraid of losing those friends if he ever told Kwin how he felt. So, the boy kept it to himself and tried to remain satisfied with having a best friend who obviously thought the world of him.

Since moving to Three Pines, AJ’s not only become more fluent in ASL(opting to rely more on PSE between friends and family), but he’s also taught Kwin much of what he knows and the two can hold a basic conversation. With that, AJ also enrolled Knox’s School of Martial Arts with Gabi and Kwin(their parents and Uncle Billy got a discount for signing all three up at the same time and split the fee). He’s become one of Knox’s best students and wants to open up his own Dojo one day.

Outside of martial arts, AJ is a talented, self taught artist. He always loved drawing, and he relied on sketching to help him through therapy and recovery. He currently does the artwork and designs the merchandise for all Outlier Podcast Network shows.

Billy and AJ, while they love each other, have had growing pains in their relationship. Billy never expected to be a father so soon and his role as guardian of his nephew right after the death of his brother and sister-in-law was an abrupt shift. Yet, Billy has tried his best to be what AJ needed, a monumental task, to say the least. AJ appreciates that more than he can express but he often finds it hard to do so. AJ’s relationship with Dana Bergeron, however has grown strong over the years as the woman treats him like her own son and she’s become the mother AJ no longer has. While at home AJ feels comfortable, yet sometimes like a burden to a man who never got the chance to mourn the death of his best friend and only family. At the Bergeron house, he feels welcomed and included in a situation that gives him constant doubt because of his sexuality and feelings for Kwin.

AJ feels he has to reconcile both issues eventually, he just has to find the courage to do so.

Random Facts • AJ’s favorite music genres are indie rock, hip hop(preference for West Coast rappers) and lo-fi/synthwave • His favorite food is sushi • He loves to have his back rubbed/lightly scratched- how his uncle used to help him get back to sleep after nightmares during those early years. • He’s very good at giving foot massages, often doing so for his friends • AJ’s favorite movie genres are sci-fi and adventure • Like Kwin, he enjoys exploring abandoned areas around town • AJ had a girlfriend in freshman year, but it didn’t last long as while he didn’t think it was fair to her, she also couldn’t get over the fact that he never spoke. • AJ and Kwin have created some of their own signed slang- mostly vulgar • He loves coffee, like really loves coffee • He and his uncle have Game Night on Wednesdays where they make weekly progress on beating video games on the hardest difficulty. • His current text pad that he uses to communicate with people who can’t sign doubles as a sketch tablet and was a gift from his 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Hudson and her son, Jake. • Outside of Kwin, AJ’s most comfortable around Gabi and/or Devon alone as they never try to fill the conversational void by over-talking. Unlike Zig. • Zig, Marlo and AJ go on runs together every morning.

_______________________________________________________________________

Tag List

@remi-writes-sometimes @writerinafury @the-violet-writer @anomaly00 @writinglyra @linariouswrites

#my wip #apocalypse kings #ak characters #horror fiction #sci fi #cosmic horror #ak character profile

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skruttet · 5 years

Text

I flicked through the Tuula Karjalainen book and read bits and pieces of it already and there’s this one section about homosexuality in it that I found really interesting so I thought I’d post it here, even though it’s a bit long oops, in case any of y’all were interested in reading it! Like, I never knew Tove had a gay cousin whom Tove was supportive of in terms of her lesbian identity and whose partner wrote a dissertation on Tove’s books?? So fascinating! Also was not expecting the sentence “The Hattifatteners resemble a wandering flock of penises or condoms”; usually they’re referred to more subtly with words like ‘phallic’ but not here xD

OPEN AND CLOSED

Many researchers have looked for references to homosexuality in Tove’s writings. Although she did not talk about it in public, she made no attempt to conceal it either, and her relationship with Tuulikki Pietilä was known to everyone. The two women took part in official state events such as the President’s Independence Day ball, where they were clearly the first to attend the event officially as a lesbian couple. Their relationship was so open and obvious it was that it was not newsworthy. It was hard to build a scandal on something that everyone knew - even the press, which liked to chase stories of that kind.

Psychological explanations of various kinds often have a chapter of their own in the analyses of Tove’s books, and sometimes unusual views have been expressed. The Swedish scholar Barbro K. Gustafsson earned her doctorate in 1992 from Uppsala University’s Theological Faculty with a dissertation on Tove’s books for adults. She made a special study of The Doll’s House, Sun City, ‘The Great Journey’ and Fair Play, and although her thesis also covered the Moomin stories, they were dealt with more briefly.

Perhaps surprisingly, Tove agreed to be interviewed by Gustafsson during her research work, and even participated in it actively by attending Gustafsson’s dissertation defence. The fact that Tove was prepared to do this may partly be explained by a family connection: Gustafsson was the partner of Tove’s beloved cousin Kerstin. When Kerstin, from a religious family, had realised that she was lesbian, Tove had been extremely supportive. Tove and her friends also helped Kerstin with many issues related to her lesbian identity.

Tove refused to give any public interviews about the dissertation defence, and did not want to talk about her private life or relationships. She returned to Finland as soon as the defence and the celebrations for Gustafsson’s Ph.D. were over, though she did issue a press release. In it she followed convention, thanking Gustafsson for the clarity of her book and her extensive knowledge of the subject - she had, Tove thought, succeeded in uncovering a rarely explored area of the unconscious. She also said that though much was written about authors, it was perhaps best done after their death, if at all. As if to soften the blow, she stressed the degree of trust between herself and Gustafsson. She said that following the progress of the research had been like an adventure, and that it had almost allowed her to see herself as a pioneer.

In her study, Gustafsson focuses on a dream that Tove had in the 1930s and found strangely threatening. In it she had seen large, black, wolf-like dogs on a seashore at sunset. A psychologist had explained to her that the dream was about repressed drives and forbidden sensuality.

In her thesis, Gustafsson is perhaps prone to detect elements of homosexuality too easily in very ordinary matters connected with the sea and archipelago life. She also discussed the wild animals that Tove often returned to both in the Moomin books and in her works for adults. In Moominland Midwinter the dog Sorry-oo wants to join the wolves and learn to howl like them. The story concerns the desire to leave the species into which one has been born, something that proves impossible. In The True Deceiver, the wolfhound plays a central role in the power relationship between the two women. Numerous readers have seen allusions to homosexuality in the comic strip about a little dog that falls in love with a cat. It realises that the love is wrong and becomes depressed. In the end the cat turns out to be a dog in disguise. This time the problem has a simple solution.

In Tove’s books there are repeated descriptions of people or Moominvalley creatures becoming ‘electric’, and this is clearly an important theme in her writing. The Hattifatteners resemble a wandering flock of penises or condoms - in thunderstorms they become electric, and then burn anyone who gets close to them. It is very easy to imagine that the electrification is an allegory for oestrus. The Mymble is also able to become electric - with her countless children she is the most sensual character in Moominvalley. The Whomper Toft in Moominvalley in November is the master of thunder and lightning. He lets the Creature out of a locked cupboard, and all that remains is a smell of electricity. The Creature runs away and grows even larger during thunderstorms, when lightning fills the sky, but is too big, angry and bewildered to be so big and angry. In ‘The Doll’s House’, electrification brings about a drama of jealousy between three men that leads to violence. There is a similar outcome in ‘The Great Journey’, where the mother feels the electrifying presence of her daughter’s female friend, whereupon the daughter becomes jealous.

Fair Play is a book about the relationship between two women in their seventies who are set in their ways, and their daily life together. Gustafsson uses the narrative to examine their mutual roles in the light of the old custom of categorising lesbians either as ‘femmes’ or ‘butches’, the latter having more masculine traits - a way of seeing a relationship between two women as a copy of a heterosexual one. Jonna and her prototype Tuulikki correspond to the ‘butch’ profile. Tove also portrayed Tuulikki as Moominvalley’s Too-ticky, a rather burly, masculine figure who keeps a knife in her belt.

Quoting Lord Alfred Douglas and the line of verse that was mentioned at the indecency trial of Oscar Wilde, Gustafsson writes that homosexual love is the love that does not dare speak its name. Although the time in which Tove lived was quite different from Wilde’s, there were similar prejudices and tensions in society - and, of course, they influenced her writing. Over the centuries women were not expected to write blatant erotic descriptions, but had instead to express themselves in allegorical terms. It was supposed that they did experience such feelings - and even more so when they were the result of unlawful love.

Tove’s books contain no openly erotic episodes or writing of a sexual nature and in this her writing is typical of women’s literature of her time. Sometimes it feels as though the characters in her books have to some extent been freed from sexuality. Their relationships are based more on understanding and friendship than on ardent passion, though their jealousy can sometimes take violent forms. Many things are veiled in highly metaphorical language. In the books that Tove wrote for adults, male and female couples are portrayed interchangeably without particular emphasis. In many of her books, as in her life, homosexuality was so natural that there was no need to make a fuss about it. While it was not to be denied, it was not to be given a high profile either. It was almost as though she backed out of dealing with her sexuality too openly, and in fact she forbade her biographer to write about her love affairs. Since the biography was written for children, this kind of advance censorship was possible.

In the story ‘The Great Journey’ (’Den stora resan’), two women in their seventies, Rosa and Elena, together with Rosa’s mother, live a life of humdrum joys and sorrows and work on their creative tasks. Among all three, physical love is a taboo subject. Elena asks Rosa: ‘What does she know, in any case? Nothing. She doesn’t know anything about such matters.’ The two women are unable to show their feelings for each other if Rosa’s mother is present. They plan a holiday together, but Rosa changes her mind and goes away with her mother instead. She remembers the promise she made in the nursery: ‘I’ll take you with me, I’ll steal you from Papa, we’ll go to a jungle or sail out on the Mediterranean... I’ll build you a castle where you shall be queen.’

Organisations that promoted sexual equality in Finland and the Nordic countries gave Tove awards for her pioneering work on behalf of sexual minorities, and she has certainly been an extremely important role model and author in the gay community. She had the ability to be completely open, yet at the same time quite private - as in the case of the dissertation, when she gave Gustafsson interviews and took part in the defence, but would not agree to answer questions from journalists who were interested in her private life. In relation to her lesbian identity, as shown by this very situation, she sometimes came out of the closet, and at other times she concealed the truth.

Tove’s homosexuality inspired a great many researchers and readers to look for the most varied interpretations. Perhaps her slightly sardonic attitude to this excessive interest can be seen in her song ‘Psychomania’ (’Psykofnattvisan’), written in 1963 for the revue Krasch and set to music by Erna Tauro. The song is like an obscure parody, in which psychoanalytic terms form a wild, cacophonous reality all of their own. It is as though she is drifting among people who are intently looking for something and who begin to see the signs of it everywhere. In fact, they can no longer see anything else because their heads are filled with ‘psychomania’. The song is a lengthy one, and operates on many levels. It also demonstrates that its author was familiar with the psychological terminology of the day - Tove had always been fascinated by interpretations of the human mind and she knew the terminology back to front, so well in fact that she could play with it:

I pore and pore and where I pore the symbols gather more and more I sink right through the floor into depression and tendentious apperception...

-Tove Jansson: Work and Love by Tuula Karjalainen

#tove jansson #moomins #LGBT+#krasch #work and love

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

Text

[Open Your Mouth] Chapter 4 - R

See previous chapters here: AO3 | Tumblr

Summary: Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

-xxxxxxx-

April 20, 2021, 11:16 PM

“Still in questioning for two weeks,” Sasuke grits through his phone. “And they didn’t allow him to post bail?”

“Akugawa’s attorneys tried to appeal this week but it’s a no go. Doesn’t help that he’s brought to a different district so it’s completely out of our jurisdiction,” Neji replies. “Have you heard from Jugo?”

“Just a text message saying they lied to him and told him the directive was from Asuma.” Sasuke lets his fingers run through his hair, too frustrated to think straight this evening. “All they have against Akugawa are purely circumstantial. This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but the media ruckus is hungry for the gay serial killer angle. Well, I gotta go Uchiha.”

“Have fun. It’s your wedding anniversary tonight, isn’t it?”

“Shut up. Aren’t you with a woman yourself?” The call ends.

Rid of distractions, he is now at liberty to gaze freely at the rosette reading a book beside him. She gives him a smile and ditches the book to trace lazy circles on his chest. The lunch break meetings have become too short for the both of them thus the need for dinners and coffee. He didn’t plan on making a move, not when there is still an active case, but she’s enthralling in a sense. It’s her presence that pulls him into her orbit – or maybe it’s the pink hair and the emerald eyes that make it difficult to look away.

When he almost hailed her a cab for their fifth dinner, she grabbed his arm and slowly pulled it down to her side, intertwining her fingers with his. It was the first time he held her hand.

With a flushed face under the dim city lights, she asked him, “I would like it if you take me home with you.”

And even after arriving in his flat, he hesitated to kiss her. Only when she brought his fingers to her lips did he move, suddenly gripped with a drive to gently coax her into pleasure. She undressed for him in the dark, already wet and pulsating for his touch, his kisses, and he let the jasmine perfume perforate his senses. He was careful not to leave marks of his trail – after all, it might just be the last as it could be the first – and regrets were felt stronger when there were remainders.

The first time was followed by a second, and she posed a question. “Why are you so gentle with me?”

He looked at her face and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, the color of his dreams. “I’m afraid you’ll break.”

She took his hand and slapped it on her perky breasts. “Try and break me then.”

Where he wavered, she asserted – her nails leaving scratches on his back, bruising his lips, marking his neck, and pulling his hair – but she did it so beautifully that he basked in pain as she yelled his name in ecstatic throes.

He pulls away from reminiscing when the lazy circles start to draw lower. He softly takes her dainty wrist and places an open-mouthed kiss where her pulse is.

“I take it your team is still prohibited from pursuing other leads?” Sakura gasps.

Sasuke shakes his head. “Both chiefs had to save face, particularly when the district attorney got the call first, then the media, and we were the last to know. But it’s more of a pro-forma. My guts don’t tell me they’re still out there.”

“You don’t believe it’s him?”

“He perfectly fits Yamato’s profile. Had several sexual relations with married CEOs, naively accepted promises of secured futures, let down just as quickly as he has been picked up.”

Sakura climbs on top of him and starts to grind on his hardened member. “Too bad. Akugawa is a nice colleague. I was the one who encouraged him to enroll in those meditation classes.”

One arm wraps around her waist to keep her steady while the other tugs away the sheet that comes in between their moist flesh. He brings her breasts closer to his tongue, his words lapping against her skin. “Oh you must be good in yoga too.”

“I’m flexible like that, Detective.” She slips his cock insider her ready core, and the fitting sensation makes the both of them shiver.

“What other things are you good at, Dr, Haruno?”

She locks eyes with him and words are lost as they start to find rhythm in their thrusts.

-xxxxxxx-

April 25, 2021, 6:27 AM

“I take it they’re gonna name you as the director for the overseas expansion.” He asks as soon as they step out of her penthouse.

He didn’t expect to step foot in her domain; he knew it was how the elites operate, but maybe she waited for the sixth date to test him. He couldn’t deny how he was intimidated by her biometrics door, the large cctv panels on her foyer, and her voice-automated house system, but it fascinated him to see the bleak contrast of her plant-filled space against the extravagant automations and sharp marble floor.

“I’m not quite sure.” She angles her eyes on the retina scanner, and the security system beeps to life. The whole floor will be inaccessible even to the administration until she comes home. “Either way, it’s gonna be a success for the Senju-Haruno corporation and its shareholders.”

“Shouldn’t they give you bodyguards then?”

Her fingers ease in into his waiting hand. “I have a detective for a lover. I’ll be fine.”

He leaves soft kisses on her knuckles. “Can’t your lover be worried?”

“I don’t think they’ll come after me. I’m a woman, remember?”

6:41 AM

“Sorry to delay your trip to the office. I’ll just check the ravine again.” They hazard park on the side of the forest. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Sakura nods with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll stretch my legs out for a bit, but I really wouldn’t want to wander. I don’t know the area quite well.”

He hops off the car, unaware that a nondescript black sedan stopped a few meters away from their spot. Sasuke traverses the wide trunks and mossy forest floor until he finds the exact dumping spot – a clump of thorny bristles and rue hedges. His eyes survey the surroundings and notices a disturbed, rather steep area above the ravine, a tricky slope which cannot be possible for someone like Akugawa. With his built, he would have skidded down when he dumped the body. It had to be someone petite.

Light footfalls behind him. Sasuke glances at the sound, his hand ready to pull out his gun.

“Sorry I followed you. I’m kinda jumpy.” Sakura waves at him from above the slope, her silhouette prominent against the morning backlight.

Then his eyes register another bigger, taller, heavier silhouette behind her.

“Sakura!”

Gunshots miss Sasuke by a breadth, but he doesn’t miss how the hooded figure clamps a hand over Sakura’s mouth and drag her away into the forest. He scrambles up and follows their trail, cursing his ineptness.

His breaths are louder than the wakening birds and traffic on the roadside, and his feet feel more like lead for every tree that leads him deeper into the forest. Then he hears two consecutive shots, and he feels all of his sensory motors go into overload.

Sasuke’s feet direct him to the sound. When the vines give way to a clearing, the first thing he sees is her disheveled rose hair, pulled apart from her high bun, tousled like an unkempt mane on her back.

And a dead man on the forest floor, a gunshot to the head, and another on his side.

She was trembling, eyes wide, clenched teeth, and closed fists. Giving her time to adjust to the events, he goes first to the perpetrator and lowers the hoodie. It’s one of the Mingwa private cronies, probably following him to make sure he isn’t doing independent investigations. But since they touched a Haruno-Senju heir, the corporate publicity will angle this as harassment and attempted assault while the private faction will absolve their hands of any involvement. He calls Kakashi and Asuma for help.

After which, he glances at her, and she finally blinks out of daze. She slumps against him as soon as he’s near, and the reverberations of her body immediately hit him.

“I’m sorry,” he says even though he has a lot of questions.

“He slipped and I went for the gun,” she whispers shakily against his shirt.

Yet he still wonders why there were two shots when one to the head could have sufficed, especially with unfamiliar hands. Or how she’s able to take down a man that size with her dainty wrists.

“I’ll call in sick today. Bring me home?”

He tightens his hug before he lets her go then he realizes he’s not familiar with the terrain.

She tugs on his coat and starts to walk. “If we cut across here, we’ll see the road in five minutes.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 5, 2021, 10:22 AM

“Did Dr. Haruno come back okay?” Kakashi sits down across Sasuke’s desk and fidgets with his unused pens. Even though the investigation was halted, his room remains littered with manila papers, bulletins, and notes on the white board. The necessity to preserve becomes apparent when they receive news of Akugawa posting bail this morning.

Sasuke nods in response. “She still went through with her trip to Belgium last April 28. I don’t know when she’ll be back, but I’m not privy to her internal emotions so it’s not my place to say she’s okay.”

“About time they gave her bodyguards.” The chief detective taps an unlit cigarette stick on his desk. “It’s great seeing you like this.”

“This what?”

“Happy?”

Sasuke clucks his tongue. “It’s not official. She just might be in it for the thrills.”

Kakashi smirks and lights up his stick. “Sex must be great then.”

“Get out, Hatake.”

A rap on the door catches both of their attention. Yamato comes in followed by Asuma, Tenten, Jugo, and Neji.

“There’s a fourth body in the same ravine. Body is now with the ME. Estimated time of death is enough for Akugawa to file for several cases. It’s gonna be a media bloodbath,” Asuma says.

As the lot file out of the office, Kakashi pulls Sasuke to fall behind a bit. “Trust no one, Uchiha.”

11:45 AM

There’s something off-putting about the smell.

This body does not follow the two-week gap; the ME estimated the date of his death on April 27. This slight change in MO presents the possibility of a copycat, but other than that, all injuries are the same – a stab in the carotid, teeth pulled out, arms and feet cut, genital missing – which means another thing, the killer slipped somehow and they’re on a rush. For what, they don’t know.

“Ando Suzuki, CEO of Suzuki Airlines for Japan,” Asuma states his name for confirmation. “Let’s do our usual. It’s time we ramp up our progress, Uchiha.”

Sasuke ignores the pointed insinuation and steps closer to the corpse. It didn’t rain last week despite the forecasts so the state of the body is more or less preserved. He brings his nose closer to the neck, right where the murder tool punctured the artery.

“Sasuke, what are you doing?” Tenten asks. “Forensics have close up shots for that.”

“It’s the smell.”

“Like decomposers and rotting flesh?” Jugo scoffs.

“Is it possible that they might have tried to remove him?” Sasuke asks the ME who quickly goes to him and helps him turn the corpse on its side.

They see fresh scar on the pricked wounds, like someone tried to drag them out of the ravine. As if they knew the position would give them away this time. The smell hits him strongly when the ME returns the corpse to a prone position, and Sasuke almost vomits when he recognizes it.

It can’t be. In controlled breaths, he steps away from the examining table and slumps against the wall. Kakashi notices but pretends not to. It’s Tenten who slithers beside him inconspicuously and taps on his arm. She raises a brow which he responds to with a cluck of his tongue.

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts. “Why can’t it be a woman?”

“If you can recreate a position of a woman stabbing the artery without defense wounds, let me know,” Yamato says with a cold smile. It’s meant to shut Tenten up; he doesn’t like his profiles being challenged. “And the smell you’re talking about Sasuke? It’s jasmine. The area probably has blooms.”

2:30 PM

“Something’s weird with Uchiha,” Neji pulls out his badge, ready to present it to the landfill. They’re revisiting dumping sites again for a second go-through. The killer is starting to leave breadcrumbs all over the place. “Did you see how pale his face went earlier?”

“Jasmine and rotting flesh don’t make good perfume,” Tenten figures. The guard sees their badges and gestures for them to come inside.

There’s a peculiar batch of scavengers in the area, people who aren’t part of junkshops or associations, just individual peddlers. A bald man in his 70s glances their way and starts to move towards their directions with only one foot and crutches for the other.

“Police?” He has a putrid gummy smile. “That lad didn’t come here again.”

Neji tugs Tenten away, but his wife stays rooted to the spot. “A lad?”

The old man opens his palm.

“He just wants money, dear,” Neji grumbles. “Let’s go now and talk to the real rational people.”

Tenten pulls out her wallet and sticks a wad of one dollar bills on the man’s hand. “A lad?” She repeats.

“Thought it was our fellow. We have young ones with us, you know, like your age but definitely shorter in height. He comes in dressed in a black raincoat and plastic boots, dragging bulky garbage bags like they’re not heavy at all.” His smile gets bigger by the count of the bills.

“Did you get a good look at this man?” Tenten asks, still unwilling to let go.

“Tenten,” Neji warns.

“This might be our lead. A concrete lead for once.”

“Wind knocked his garbage of a hood one time. Shiny bald head says hi.”

Neji is at the end of his wits. “Dear, you’re not even sure if he’s talking about our guy.”

Tenten sticks a 10-dollar bill on the old man’s almost torn shirt pocket. He proceeds with a guttural laugh, the phlegm oozing through each gasping breath. “He always dumps those bags on a full moon.”

4:30 PM

Sasuke sneaked in earlier to the administration office just before the receptionist’s desk came into view. With slight intimidation into play, he managed to get duplicate recordings of the cctv of the whole floor.

He taps Kakashi for help and another IT staff.

“Looks normal to me,” the silver-haired man remarks. “Why are you snooping on your girlfriend?”

“All of them were her patients at one point,” Sasuke replies. “And we don’t do labels.”

“But their visits were nowhere near their kill dates.”

“Their visits were logged as emergency procedures because Akugawa or their company doctor wasn’t available. So why?”

Kakashi smirks. “Are you insinuating they were there to get a glimpse of her? The recluse medical corporation heir. Nothings amiss in the recordings, right? No sexual body language?”

Sasuke hopes the same, but the lurch in his guts tells him otherwise. He swallows whatever saliva that hasn’t dried yet in his mouth in anticipation of the inevitable.

“The recordings are fine. She’s always accompanied by her assistant when she has clients,” the IT replies. “It’s the code that bothers me. You see, a malware is playing with it, looping the same frames while continuing the time ticks. Either someone knows their technology or this is a complete human error.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 7, 2021, 12:01 PM

“Oh, it’s you,” Laura says nonchalantly, never glancing up from her keyboard, and click-clacking away even though it’s already lunch break. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you know how to code?” He doesn’t spare her a glance either, his eyes trained on the door.

“Is this a side job? I can get Shin if you’d like. He fixes the systems here when he has time. He’s a computer geek before he settled for dentistry.” She stops typing and eyes her wristwatch. “She’s here.”

True enough, the door opens just as Laura tells him. She wears her rose hair loose today, falling like waves against her tucked in white long sleeve polo and denim jeans. She spots him after she gives her white coat to her waiting assistant.

Smile, wave, and unhurried walk to reach him. “A lunch break?”

“Wondering if you were still alive after your trip.” The jasmine in the air transports him to two different scenes, his memory being stretched out in two drastic dimensions, one where she’s writhing beneath him and one where he sees the corpse falling on top of him. The scents mix, and he fails to cover up his gag. Both women look at him with brows raised but he waves them off with his handkerchief.

“Days of absence and your heart grows fonder. That saying is true after all.” She places a hand on his cheek and softly taps it. “A sandwich?”

“I’m starving.”

“Two sandwiches then.”

8:19 PM

She invited him for dinner while they were munching on half-dozen random sandwiches from Subway. He didn’t talk about the case nor did he question her radio silence since her Belgium business trip. This was why she genuinely liked Detective Uchiha Sasuke.

Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

She knew he had an inkling. She messed up in the forest. If she had the luxury of time, she would have dismembered the man who grabbed her. A stab from a scalpel was a merciful way to go, and that man didn’t deserve it. Filthy hands.

The anger rushes to the surface, and she stabs the roasted meat rather too loudly.

“Is your meat still alive?” He emerges in her dining room and continues to look around. “Your wooden mansion is a far cry from your depersonalized penthouse.”

She laughs as she strains the cooked pasta. “I like having two personalities.” He must have triangulated by now that the location of this mansion is smacked in the center of the dump sites, a safe, close distance to the landfills, the forest, and even the meditation place. He must have seen the black pick-up truck on her garage, the one she uses for farming. She can see all the pieces fitting into a completed puzzle in his head, and she’s sad to let him go.

He opens the wine she placed on the counter, and he fills himself a glass. “You also have a crystal collection like Akugawa.”

“I gave him his first obsidian. Their healing properties are supposedly at maximum during full moon.” She places two plated bolognese pasta on the table and a wide platter of medium rare meat. “Dinner’s ready.”

“This looks good.” His tone is genuinely fascinated. “Didn’t know you could cook. We always dined in or ordered take out.”

“A change of pace, wouldn’t you think?” She also fills herself a glass of wine and watches in amusement as he takes a first bite of the meatballs she especially prepared for him.

“You should tell me where you source your meat. I’ll one up you in our next dinner.”

I’m too sad there won’t be a next one.

10:17 PM

Sakura changes position, and she’s on top of him, gyrating her hips in familiar pleasure. Sasuke wants to take it slow, to re-encounter her folds and curves after several days of not seeing her, despite his senses overriding in danger. He took her an hour ago, on her immaculate grainy wood counter, wine spilling on the sink as he thrusted into her unclothed core. She had gone commando, and this drove him insane. Maybe his lust is taking over him, clouding his judgment, muddling his perfect frame by frame memories, but he has to play this game. It’s only a matter of time.

He feels her insides throb in urgency, and he knows she’s near her orgasm. Her juices leak out, and he bucks against her wetness, releasing his load into her with eyes closed.

He waits for the scalpel to puncture his carotid, but nothing comes. “Sakura.”

She continues riding his limp member and rubbing her clit against his balls. A strategic distraction as they are coming down from a high. He expects her to trace lazy circles on his abdomen, a mannerism he picked up from their nights, but the dainty hands go to his neck instead.

He opens his eyes, and he sees a different Sakura. Her microexpressions are different, her eyes throwing daggers, soft pliant lips in hardened scowl, and hollowed cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s your issue with a scalpel, Sakura.” Her voice is different, the accent changed. “You must have fallen in love with him already. Such a frail human.”

“I wanted to prepare myself before I see him go. That is all.” Her face shifts and the emotions return to the Sakura he knows. He also notes the loosening grip on his neck, unaware that he is holding his breath.

Another shift and it’s back to the other Sakura. “She has such a saccharine charm effective in luring me to do things.” She smiles at him, but it’s not the smile he’s familiar with. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna die yet.”

She chokes him with surprising strength. He places pressure on her wrists and elbows, but she doesn’t budge. His legs start to thrash out beneath him, and his sight starts to dim.

“Great work as always, sister. We’ve always wanted the truth about Madara, don’t we?”

#open your mouth #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #pinkhairedlily #crime and mystery au #thriller au #fic!pinkhairedlily #fic!pseudolily

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heauregarde · 4 years

Text

Feel It After Midnight

gif cred

content warning: smut, oral, scissoring, femslash, drinking

summary: Ouma and Saihara get home from a Halloween party and - in Ouma's words - have "crazy lesbian sex".

word count: 2.5k

here it is on ao3

Saihara is watching the way Ouma is pressing up against her, the smaller girl’s body warm and firm against her front side. Ouma is dressed so scandalously and smells so intoxicating that the navy hair colored girl has to hold back her urges to touch and feel and hold with a pained smile when the other looks up at her.

“It’s Halloween! I’m allowed to dress sluttier than usual!”

That had been the excuse she gave when Saihara questioned her about the black and white corset tied tightly around her petite frame. The long, dark cape she wore covered most of the exposed skin she was showing, but the dramatic sways and moves she made with her arms made it easy for anyone to see the black fishnet stockings accentuating her thin pale thighs beneath the white tule skirt. Saihara wondered to herself how Ouma could possibly bear to still be standing on her feet when her thigh-high boots must have been killing her them.

“Get out of your head and get me another drink!” Ouma shouts suddenly, pulling her taller friend’s head out of her own thoughts.

The blue-haired girl was moving before she could even fully comprehend the order given to her. She makes her way into the kitchen of the house party Ouma has dragged her to against her will and fills yet another cup with alcohol. After the smaller female also downs that one in no time, Saihara finally puts her foot down.

“I don’t know how you’re not already drunk, but no more for you. I’m cutting you off.”

“You’re so mean!”

Saihara shrugs, watching the crocodile tears well up in her friend’s indigo eyes, then die off just as quickly.

“Ah, I can’t stay mad at you!” Ouma yells out over the music, grasping at the taller female’s thin wrists to pull her closer. “Now dance with me!”

Saihara isn’t much of a dancer, but she adheres to the other’s request/demand and sways the directions that she is led to. Before long, she can sense a smile tugging at her thin lips, body going more lax. The braid that her long, dark hair is in is starting to unravel with the increasingly jerkier movements and then slender fingers with neatly painted black nails tug at the tie to free the strands. While they fall over her shoulders, Ouma closes in and leans up to speak with her lips inches away from Saihara’s.

“Kay, I’m bored of this place now. Let’s go back home.”

Saihara complies easily, letting the shorter but more assertive female lead her through the crowd and out into the dim night. She drives them back to their shared apartment, watching Ouma fix her sailor’s cap in the mirror where she sits unbothered in the passenger seat. Once they’re through the front door, Ouma is whining and pulling off her boots.

“Saihara-chan, help me!”

With a soft chuckle, the navy-haired girl shrugs off her trenchcoat and abandons her matching deerstalker cap on the couch, then drops to her knees. Ouma steadies herself with one hand on Saihara’s slender shoulder, dainty fingertips digging into clavicle. Once they’re off, the shorter girl lets out a moan of relief and heat rises to the other’s cheeks as the sound reaches her ears. She stands, scooping up the boots and carrying them to Ouma’s bedroom.

The violet-haired girl flops down onto the bed with a sigh, face buried in the checkered comforter and skirt rising up to give the room a few of her black panties. Saihara swallows nervously, tugging at the collar of her black turtleneck and clearing her throat. She heads to the door and hears light rustling.

“Make sure you take your makeup off before you-”

“Why are you always so nervous near me?” Ouma interrupts.

Sputtering, Saihara turns to face the other, who is now sitting up on the bed facing her.

“Wh-what?”

A wicked little smirk stretches across thin lips stained with purple lipgloss. Ouma reaches behind herself and unhooks the corset, with little to no difficulty. Her voice is sultry and taunting when she speaks.

“We’ve known each other since high school and you still act like you did back when we first met,” she notes.

Saihara’s eyes dance between her pale face and the slowly loosening article of clothing on her chest.

“What are you-”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a dirty little dyke with a big, fat crush on me.”

Saihara pales. “Y-you can’t...you shouldn’t say that word, it’s-”

“I’m literally gay.”

The corset is tossed to the side and then Ouma is leaning back on the bed and lifting her hips to pull the tule skirt off, then the fishnets right after. All that the taller girl can do in response is lean her palm against the doorframe behind her and watch with rapt attention as her friend strips oh so shamelessly in front of her. Ouma has milky white skin and everything is so dainty about her. Her thin limbs that carry her around seem longer now that they’re bare to the room, shiny and smooth from the looks of them. Her hair fans out over her head like a halo when she lays back and gives Saihara such a disgustingly cocky smirk.

“Come here,” the smaller girl barks out, and Saihara is following the command obediently, face ablaze with a blush.

Her cheeks are tingling with the pigment as she makes her way over and lowers herself onto the bed beside her friend’s lax form. One small hand reaches up and caresses her jawline with gentle knuckles. Before she can open her mouth to excuse her wandering eyes, Ouma is tangling her fingers in the long navy blue locks and tugging her down into a kiss. More than compliant, Saihara is kissing back in mere seconds, urged on by short fingernails gently scratching at her scalp. She’s giving in so easily, the heels of her palms digging into the mattress as she leans over the other’s smaller form and casts a shadow over the naked body beneath her.

Then, she’s crawling onto the bed and straddling her friend’s waist. Ouma reaches up with her free hand and tugs the plaid coat open, shoving it off of Saihara’s bony shoulders with an impatient grunt. Her fingers dip into the band of the matching plaid pants, unbuttoning them with both hands after dropping her grip on the girl’s hair. She gets them open and wraps one small hand around Saihara’s neck, pushing her away from the kiss with a wet sound. Both of their lips are covered in spit.

She doesn’t even need to say anything before Saihara is standing up and quickly shimmying the pants down her legs. The taller girl has a slender figure too, but she is more developed and proportionate in some areas. Her thighs are thin but toned, the tendons in them flexing as she steps out of the garment. Her shirt comes off next, revealing to Ouma the beige bra cupping her handfuls of breasts. She has a lean body, the curves more dramatic than Ouma’s. The smaller girl finds her hands wanting to cover her own form out of an ancient insecurity stemming from her middle school days, but she suppresses the urge and smirks on.

“A beige bra, you’re such a grandma,” Ouma gripes playfully, waiting for the other to shadow her body again.

Saihara rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are still flushed and her lips are still trembling. With hesitation plaguing her arms, she finally reaches behind herself and unhooks her bra, then reaches for her panties. The shorter girl beats her to it, fingers dipping beneath the elastic and snapping it against her plush skin. Saihara gasps, the sting sending goosebumps down her legs. She quickly leans over Ouma and straddles her waist again, shaggy blue bangs falling over her amber eyes while she takes in the sight beneath her.

Whatever she must have looked like seemed to amuse Ouma.

“As much as I love the way you’re looking at me right now, I should probably stay in control for your first time having super crazy lesbian sex,” the girl jokes, sitting up and craning her neck to look up at the other.

Saihara feels some sort of weight leave her shoulders, the desire to see her friend cry sparkling tears beneath her dissipating as she nods.

“That’s my girl,” a milky white hand closes around her neck again and she melts.

Painted nails dig crescent marks into the tendons in her neck and sends shocks of pleasure throughout her body.

“God, I can feel you dripping on my tummy,” Ouma teases, obviously exaggerating.

Except maybe she isn’t. Saihara knows she’s wet, and she’s sitting with at least half of her weight on the other, so it’s very possible that she’s getting herself all over her friend’s skin. It doesn’t seem to bother Ouma, if anything, the smirk on the other’s lips is telling that she feels just the opposite. Her hips buck forward out of pure instinct and the slick slide that aids the way reveals to both of them that Ouma is correct.

“See? You nasty dyke,” she teases with a sly tint in her voice.

The degrading nature of her words only makes Saihara’s trembling thighs throb with another ache as she once again bucks forward and enjoys the friction between her thighs.

“I bet I know what’ll feel even better than that,” Ouma says as she regards the inexperienced girl above her with captivated eyes.

Saihara only then realizes that her own eyes are hooded, eyebrows knitted together in a form of concentration. Usually her attention and eye for detail is impeccable, but it was safe to say that she was too distracted to rely on her keen detective instincts at the moment. Before she can comprehend what’s happening, Ouma is sitting up and pushing her onto her back, then leaning her own form back once again. She’s balancing her weight on one elbow while she slots their hips together in a way that has more heat enveloping what’s between her legs.

“What are you-”

The violet-haired girl interrupts the other with a slow grind of her hips, turning the ending of Saihara’s question into a broken gasp. Petite fingers and gripping at her thigh, digging more crescent shapes into the expanse of skin and grounding her against the bed. Saihara clenches the bed spread in her fist when she’s granted more rubbing. Unsure of what to respond with, she settles for letting quiet pants leave her dry lips. Ouma is much better at this, taking her pleasure without restraint and drinking up the sounds that her friend makes.

“I bet that feels better than your pillow, doesn’t it Saihara-chan?” she taunts, looking down the length of their bodies and finding the other’s bashful gaze.

“K-Ko-kee-”

“You think I don’t hear you humping your pillow every night? Why can’t you just get a vibrator like a normal girl? I mean, I’d still hear it, but at least you’ll come faster with one,” Ouma explains, never once stopping the movement of her hips.

The muscles in her thighs are tensing and Saihara can feel it against her inner thighs because of the way they were slotted against one another.

“You’re one to t-talk - talk! - about com-m-ming fast!” she pants, sweat glistening underneath her bangs.

She swears that she sees a hint of a blush on Ouma’s cheeks, but the other is flopping down onto the bed completely and is now out of her sight. Seconds later, she feels a press of warm lips against the back of her thigh. Small kisses are littered over the trembling limb while one hand creeps down the front of it and a thumb slides between them. The wetness - was it that or was it sweat, Saihara wonders in embarrassment - provides all the harmony needed for Ouma to slide her thumb right against Saihara’s clit and rub mercilessly in little circles, using only the very end of the pad of her finger.

Saihara figures this is some sort of punishment for talking out of turn, but if this was punishment then it wouldn’t be a very effective one. If anything, it was serving more as an encouragement for her bad behavior. She’s throwing her head back and gripping the sheets and Ouma’s calf at the same time. Despite the pressure being so minimal, she was letting out high-pitched whines and arching her back toward the ceiling in seconds, only warning her friend after she’d felt the damn break.

“God, I’m - I’m coming! I’m-”

Ouma sits up to watch, eyes rapt with their attention on the spasming mess pressed against her. Her hips are moving of their own accord, one hand pressed into the mattress to keep her balance. She watches Saihara struggle so cutely to muffle her keens of pleasure by biting her lip, only bringing her wet thumb to the raw flesh once the girl goes limp against the bed and lets her legs fall open wider. Her teeth release the pink tissue easily and accept the invited digit willingly, eyes growing hungrier when they meet indigo ones.

Amber is burning into Ouma’s soul while Saihara sucks on her thumb. Soon, with the thumb still in her mouth, the slender girl that towers over her is sitting up and pressing her hand against Ouma’s slim chest. The bed spread is cold against her back when she lays down and watches Saihara finally reject the finger, her second wind seemingly hitting her as she sinks down to press her front into the bed. Before the purple-haired girl can spit out some witty remark about this being a whole new - sluttier - side of Saihara, the other’s lips are closing around just her clit while she presses a wet kiss to the damp area.

“Oh, you damn-”

Two fingers are shoved into her mouth to effectively shut her up and she begrudgingly complies. If she were to be shut up by anyone or by any method, this one - with Saihara’s fingertips pressing against her togue - would be her first choice. The tip of the other’s tongue is teasing her, making her eyes cross when Saihara pushes the wet muscle forward just the right way. She isn;t inside, that’s what Ouma is being deprived of, but she is giving just enough attention to that bundle of nerves that in record time Ouma is coming with a string of curses and slurs leaving her lips.

Ouma laughs while she comes, Saihara learns definitively in that moment. She’s heard the other’s muffled laughter late at night before and assumed as much, but seeing up close and in the flesh like this was captivating. Ouma is laughing while she calls Saihara every name in the book at tugs at her navy blue hair viciously. Whimpers weasel their way from her throat but she swallows down the sounds associated with weakness, another habit she’d developed over those long few years of adolescent bullying. Saihara thinks the whimpers are music to her ears, she wants to hear more of them. With a quick glance at the clock, she decides that she will hear more of them tonight.

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danielcooperrp · 4 years

Text

Terror

As much as he loves being around his wife, like, all the time, these days, he’s grateful for the little pockets of time he gets one-on-one with their daughter. Just over the six month mark, Anna tells them something new about herself every day, and the chance to see it, to be the first one to discover that she gets the hiccups when she eats too late or that she’s afraid of the leprechaun on his Celtics sweatshirt, feels like a personal triumph. So when Ally told him that she was going to take a long weekend and help Nat out on a service mission in Ecuador, he sent her off with a kiss and a wave of the baby’s chubby fist, ready for some quality daddy-daughter time in the city.

Around noon on Saturday, after a lazy morning snuggling in bed, Daniel sets them up in the living room, queuing up the Patriots’ 2001 AFC Divisional Playoff game on the TV. “Okay, Jelly Bean,” he says, lowering her into her Pack ‘n’ Play, “if we’re gonna get you caught up on Patriots history, we’re gonna have to start you early. The Snow Bowl is a perfect entry point, so pay attention.” She blinks up at him with wide eyes. "Just be glad I’m not starting you with Red Sox history, little girl. It’s much longer and much more depressing. You don’t need to learn about Bill Buckner ‘til you’re older.”

He settles on the couch with a mug of tea and hits play, and soon he’s narrating the game to Anna. “So the false start means that a set offensive player crossed the line of scrimmage before the ball was snapped. Can you say ‘scrimmage’?” She shrieks, shoving a stuffed bulldog into her mouth. “Fantastic.”

Just after the start of the second quarter, a familiar odor pervades the room. He pauses the game. “Uh-oh!” He grins at the baby. “I think someone needs a diaper change, and since Uncle Connor isn’t here, I have a guess who it might be.”

He bends down to scoop the offender into his arms, dramatically pinching his nose to make her giggle. He carries her into the nursery—what was once Jonathan’s room—and sets her up on the changing table. It takes him longer than strictly necessary, given his penchant for singing operatic ballads to narrate everything he’s doing, much to his audience’s delight. She cackles as he dances the wet wipe in front of her, giving it an impossibly deep baritone.

He’s just finished snapping the closures on her onesie (navy blue and red, for the occasion) when he hears what sounds like exploding glass from the living room. Confused, he picks Anna up and, cradling her against his chest, tentatively leaves the nursery. It takes him a few moments to see what happened—the room looks more or less normal, the usual insane amount of baby toys strewn all over the place, his mug of tea where left it on the coffee table—but before he can register the glittering sea of glass on the floor, something flies across his field of vision.

“Fuck!” he shouts, ducking back into the nursery. He slams the door shut, and the baby starts to wail. Over her cries, though, he can hear the telltale sound of tires screeching on the street below.

“Shh,” he whispers, bouncing her more anxiously than is probably helpful. Anna’s face is growing red, so he presses nervous kisses to her cheeks, murmuring, “It’s okay, baby girl. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He sets Anna in her crib, giving her a random stuffed animal to occupy her, and then he edges carefully to her window, which also faces the street. It’s completely clear, not a person in sight, so he guesses it’s safe to go back out.

When he reenters the common area, he nearly vomits; the front window is entirely shattered, glass shards everywhere, and sitting on the floor in front of the TV, guilty and shocking, is a brick. He stares at it, unblinking, unable to comprehend what happened. It’s like all those years of education suddenly vanished, and he’s left with the mind of a child: Where did that brick come from? Why is in the apartment? What happened to the window?

Stepping carefully in his socked feet, he ventures further into the room, heart pounding in his ears. He peers closer at the brick, like it’s a bomb that could explode at any moment, and something new catches his eye. There’s something in Anna’s Pack ‘n’ Play, something much different than the array of fluffy animals and wooden blocks she’d been playing with earlier. When he sees it, his stomach drops, leaving him woozy: a second brick, right where his baby girl had been sitting just a few minutes earlier.

All caution abandoned, he stumbles forward, skin crawling, itching over his bones, to snatch his phone up from the coffee table. He scrolls frantically for his phone app, ready to call the one person he can think to need in this situation—but pauses, finger hovering over the dial button. No. Panicking is not going to help. There’s a way to handle this, and it involves a different contact. He scrolls again, and makes a call.

“You need to come into the city,” he says flatly, quietly. “Now. Tell no one.” He hangs up.

He moves mechanically back to the nursery, touching as little in the room as possible. He’s vaguely aware of pain in his feet, but he ignores it. He closes the nursery door again once he’s inside and picks Anna up out of her crib. He can’t imagine putting her down again, couldn’t think of not having her directly in sight. He sits stiffly in the glider that they uses to rock her to sleep, bouncing her automatically in his arms. She’s mostly stopped crying at this point, having now worn herself out. She wanders in and out of sleep, her eyes opening and closing with no real sense of reason. They sit in the quiet, her little chest rising and falling, his almost perfectly still as he barely breathes.

He doesn’t know how long it takes, though it feels both like forever and like no time at all. There’s a mechanical crash in the living room—that stirs the baby—and a familiar voice. “DANIEL! ANNA!”

“In here.” He doesn’t even know if his voice is audible.

But it must be, because half a moment later, the nursery door is banging open, and Anna wails in his arms. “What the fuck happened?” Tony demands, suit deconstructing around him. “It’s like a war zone out there.”

He has to work hard to pull himself together into something resembling a human person. “They threw bricks. Through the window. Two of them.”

“Who?”

“No idea.” His eyes fall down to Anna, who’s gripping the front of his shirt in one tiny fist. “One of them landed in her Pack ‘n’ Play.”

Tony staggers to the side. “Jesus Christ—is she—”

“She’s fine. We were in here when it—” He takes a deep breath. “But she had been in there just minutes before.” He finally looks back up at his father-in-law, eyes brimming with tears. “It could have killed her.”

Tony runs a hand over his face. “I don’t understand. Who—why the fuck are people throwing bricks into your place?”

“Did you see them?”

“No, why?”

The words are burned on the inside of Daniel’s eyelids. “They’ve got ‘Die, muties’ written on them.”

The silence echoes, filling the nursery until Daniel thinks the walls are going to collapse.

“You’re hurt,” Tony says finally, voice croaking. He nods to Daniel’s feet. “You’re bleeding.”

Daniel nods. “I know.”

“Does Ally know? Is she on her way back from...Columbia?”

“Ecuador. And no. I haven’t told her. And I’m not going to.”

Tony frowns. “Uh, hate to break it to you, kid, but I think she’s going to notice the massive hole in your window.”

“No, you’re going to help me get that fixed and this place cleaned up before she comes back.”

With a sigh, Tony says, “Look, kid, you can’t keep something like this from her—”

“I’m not going to lie to her,” Daniel snaps, and then quickly adjusts his temperament when the baby starts to fuss. “I’ll tell her everything when she gets home. But I’m not calling her back here early when there’s nothing she can do, and I’m not going to have her coming home to a terror scene. Besides, if she finds out now, she’ll go through every anti-mutant bigot in this town until she’s arrested or dead.”

“And what’ll stop her from doing that once she gets back?”

Daniel looks him straight in the eye. “You will.”

Tony snorts. “Have you ever tried to stop my daughter from doing something she wants to do? I’m a billionaire but I’m not god.”

“She’s not going to find the people who did this because you’re going to find them first.”

Tony blinks in surprise. “Daniel, kid, listen, I get that this has been a shocking experience—”

“A shocking experience?” Daniel laughs derisively. He pushes himself up out of the glider, ignoring the stabbing pain in his feet. Tony winces. “What’s shocking is that this is the first time this has happened. What’s shocking is that we weren’t better prepared for it. What’s shocking is that I let myself drop my guard for five fucking minutes.”

“Daniel—”

“You think this is the first time something like this has happened to me? I was four when I first heard someone call my dad a kike. Walking out of Fenway, first home win of the season, we were floating on air, and some skinhead shouts it at him from across the parking lot. I was seventeen when a group of grown men chased me and Connor with bats through downtown London because they saw us leaving a gay club. I’ve been called a fag more times than I could count, and I’ve been with Ally when she’s had to walk past anti-mutant protesters all around town. Shocking? Tony, this is our fucking lives. And it almost cost my daughter hers.”

He crumbles back into the chair, wiping furiously at the tears on his cheeks. He brushes away the curls from Anna’s face, his heart racing.

The silence is long, ended only when Tony clears his throat. “I can have the window replaced by the end of the day. We’ll get something stronger, bulletproof, brick-proof, whatever. I’ll get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to start scanning the internet for chatter about an attack on you guys, see if we can’t get a lead.”

“You can take the bricks to Detective Shannon McInerney at the station on Myrtle. She owes me a favor, can run fingerprints under the table.”

Tony tips his head to the side. “Why does a BPD detective owe you a favor?”

Daniel shrugs. “I introduced her to her wife. Tell her it’s for me.”

Nodding, Tony turns to head out. “Take care of your feet, before you bleed out.” He’s almost out the door before he stops and turns back. “What’re the odds?”

Daniel’s barely listening, his attention turned back to the fussing baby he’s holding. “Hm?”

“What are the odds that these asswipes would choose to do this when Ally, a mutant who could easily kill them without breaking a sweat, happens to be out of town by herself for the first time in...god, forever.”

Daniel freezes, considering Tony’s words. He’s not wrong. Ally never goes anywhere for an extended period of time without him, especially not since the baby was born. The only reason she went on this trip at all was because it was only for a few days, and it was all logistical on-the-ground stuff, no actual superheroing required. The chances of them picking a random Saturday to throw bricks through their front window and hitting the one when she wasn’t home...

“What does it mean?” he asks quietly. “Why threaten a mutant if the mutant isn’t there to receive the threat?”

Tony chooses his next words carefully. “Unless the mutant they were intending to threaten wasn’t Ally.”

The words rush over him like an icy river. His eyes widen as he stares at his daughter, petrified. No one knows, of course, whether or not Anna will end up being a mutant, but if there’s one things bigots hate more than mutants, it’s mutants making other mutants. Anna poses an existential threat to the anti-mutant agenda: the daughter of a powered superhero, the granddaughter of an Avenger, and possibly part of the next generation of mutants.

The bricks were meant for her.

He nearly vomits.

“I’ll take care of it,” Tony says quickly. “You hear me? You stay here, you stay with her, you get yourself cleaned up. I’ll have this all sorted out before Ally gets back, I promise you that.”

“And what will you do once you find them?” he asks, devoid of emotion.

Tony pauses. “What needs to be done.”

A beat. “Good.”

Tony nods, and then closes the nursery door behind him. Daniel continues to gently rock back and forth, humming tunelessly until Anna’s eyes flutter shut again. He can’t stop looking at her, can’t help but think himself in circles about what he almost lost today. Despite his diatribe to Tony, he is in shock. He’s shocked that despite everything he’s been through, he’s still able to feel the razor-sharp fear of this, the choking panic of how close he came to having his still-beating heart ripped from his chest. There have always been stakes before, the uncertainty of someone else’s behavior, the fierce anxiety of what could be done to him or to Ally or to Connor and Jonathan, but this, this little, impossible thing in his arms, all rounds edges and eyelashes, this is without a doubt going to be the thing that breaks him.

He presses the softest kiss to her forehead. As much as his body is itching, his limbs aching to get up and run, to stash his little girl somewhere the rest of the world could never hope to touch her, he lets her sleep, breath coming slow and even, lost in a dream where only those who love her most can find her.

#drabble #anna banana #tony #connor #v1 #thenamesallison #tw #slur #anti-semitism #homophobia #violence #this was...a lot

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