#witness protection investigations | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reidrum · 3 months

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close to home | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a/n: this has been rotting in my brain for days now i hope you enjoy the angsty comfort this brought me <3 my requests are open (guidelines in pinned!) or if you wanna just chat hop in my ask box :) gonna hopefully work on a smut fic in the next week so keep an eye out hehe

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, protective!spencer, afab!reader who uses she/her pronouns, non bau!reader, cm type violence, reader sustains injuries from unsub, vague description of injuries, maeve mentions, derek being a good friend, spencer being so in love with reader, this takes place probably a year after maeve, inconsistencies with tls and characters but who cares

wc: 2.4k

summary: the bau is working a local case when their unsub strikes again mid investigation, hotch tells reid and morgan to go check it out but spencer finds the address of the crime to be a little too familar

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whenever the bau has a case based in the dc area, it’s always a little easier on the team. familiar stomping grounds, ease of resources, no major time difference, and everyone can sleep in their own beds. the hard part about home cases is knowing there’s a serial killer in the place they know deeply, with people they cared about deeply.

spencer and callahan are in the middle of the bullpen staring at the giant white board with all the evidence they have so far. the unsub has been killing women in their mid 20s in the local dc area, with the mo currently unknown. there had already been two victims, both killed in their homes. spencer was currently trying to analyze all the information the case had alongside with what garcia was able to provide, and he was still hitting a dead end. morgan had joined them at some point too, trying to offer what he could remember from the crime scenes but to no avail. he felt his eyes straining and dropping so he decided to get more coffee, but was stopped by hotch and garcia entering the bullpen.

“police just got a 911 call about a break in, but there’s a witness this time. she was home when it happened and it looks like he didn’t expect that and tried to knock her out before escaping. i think it sounds like our unsub. morgan and reid i need you to go check out the scene and interview the witness, see what she remembers.” hotch explained.

morgan and reid nodded as garcia spoke up, “i just sent the address to your phones, it’s a house on hillcrest so it's not that far from here.”

spencer froze. he had to have heard wrong, she did not say hillcrest, “did you say hillcrest?”

“yeah hillcrest drive. it’s like, a 15 minute drive it’s not that bad.”

he felt his heart drop to his feet, a sinking feeling building in his gut. that was the street you lived on. he tried to ground himself with logic, the probability of it being your house is only 10%, but he was dreading asking the fated question.

“garcia, what’s the house number?”

“reid, i already sent it to your pho-“

“garcia, what is the house number,” he spoke again.

please don’t say 1159 please don’t say 1159 please don’t say-

“1159.”

fuck. the color drained from his face, and the nausea was building to a head quickly. spencer hurriedly tried to think through the last time he spoke to you, last night? this morning? he doesn’t check on you as much as he does when he’s not on a case, but oh my god why can’t he remember the last time he saw you.

“reid,” hotch bellows, finally breaking spencer out of his trance, “what is it? what do you know?”

he shook his head, “nothing. morgan, let’s go.” he grabbed his jacket and booked it out the door.

morgan, garcia, and hotch all looked at each other in concern, before morgan spoke up, “i’ll see what’s up.” the latter two nodded softly, though the worry didn’t let up in their eyes.

morgan walked up to the car to find spencer repeatedly trying to call someone on the phone, clearly unable to get through and getting really frustrated.

spencer was alerted by morgan’s presence hearing the car unlock but he didn’t even look at him, just immediately got in the car and strapped his seat belt. morgan joined him in the drivers seat giving him a wary look before turning the car on and pulling out of the bureau.

“okay reid, spill it. it’s obvious you know who lives here.” morgan speaks up.

“just drive, please.”

“because if you know something, something that could help the case, it would be helpful if we knew.”

“morgan, just drive.” he borderline yells.

he raises his eyebrows at his raised voice, “listen kid, i’m just trying to help you. i can see you’re upset but we’re on the same side, you know that.”

spencer takes a shaky breath, feeling another shade of guilt at yelling at one of his friends, for something he didn’t even know about. he’d kept you a secret for many reasons— your relationship with him was still new, and he just wanted to keep you to himself for a bit. after what happened with maeve, he felt especially more responsible at keeping you safe and making sure you didn’t get tangled up in his line of work.

some job he did of that.

the one thing he regrets about how he handled the maeve situation, was not asking for help until it was almost too late. for not doing anything about her stalker when he was part of one of the most famous fbi teams built to find people like that. he’d always live with that guilt, but he vowed not to do that with you.

he loved you so much. you were so kind, and smart, and beautiful. a breath of fresh air after feeling lost in a dark tunnel for so long. you were so understanding when he explained what he did for a living, and what had happened to him and people he cared about as a result. he still remembers what you said to him when he told you that you could have an out, if you wanted.

“any risk is worth taking if getting to be with you is the consolation prize.”

tears welled up in eyes thinking about the memory. if you were willing to take any risk, then he should be able to as well.

he cleared his throat, and morgan’s ears perked up, “my uh, my girlfriend lives there. where the unsub, at- attacked.” he voiced softly.

morgan looked at him for a beat while driving, spencer missing the way his face dropped. he tightened his hands on the wheels, and didn’t hesitate to turn the lights and siren on and shift gears to speed up.

the car pulled onto your street and the first thing spencer sees is the flashing light of the ambulances. morgan doesn’t even put the car in park before spencer’s bolting out hoping he can find you quickly.

he’s asking all the paramedics he’s passing if they’ve seen you or know if you’re being treated, were you transferred to a hospital and he didn’t know, the tunnel vision slowly overtaking him until he hears a voice breaking through like sunlight call out his name.

he whips his head in the direction he heard it come from, and he’s never been more grateful to be met with the beautiful sight of you. you watch his eyes widen and let out a sigh before running over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance. he’s definitely not thinking when he goes in to hug you, not even knowing the extent of your injuries. he’s overtaken by the desperate need to hold you in his arms so he knows you’re safe and okay.

“hi,” you choke out muffled, “funny seeing you here.”

he pulls back to inspect your face, taking note of a small cut above your left eyebrow and the beginning splotches of a bruise forming on your lower jaw. his heart aches so much looking at you, knowing what happened to you and who did this to you.

“hi, honey,” he lets out tearfully, “are you okay? i mean, of course you’re not. but what did the paramedics say? did they give you anything? are you sure they checked all your injuries? you know what, let me go call the guy over. i’ll be literally two seconds.” his panicked ramble fading off as he rounds the truck you’re sat in to find the emt.

upon his extensive questioning of the man who treated you, he found out that you had sustained a minor concussion from when the unsub swung at you with an umbrella, superficial cuts caused by a broken vase you threw to defend yourself, and a dislocated shoulder from getting shoved into the wall.

you were okay, but at what cost.

the emt leaves you two and spencer sits himself next to you on the rig. he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you as tight as he can and the other hand cradles your head into the crook of his neck, holding you so tight he’s hoping he can squeeze the bad memories out of you. it’s at this moment of feeling safe and sound in his arms when the adrenaline of your attack wears off.

spencer hears a small whimper and feels a few hot tears trickle down his neck, your breathing gets faster as you’re attempting to beat your body’s fear response. the slow build up of sobs starting to rack your chest, and he immediately holds you tighter.

“it’s over, baby, they won’t hurt you anymore. i promise.”

you sniffle, “i know, i just can’t believe this happened. to me, to us. it’s not fair to you.” trailing off the last two words.

“to me? wh- what do you mean?”

you take a deep breath, “i don’t mean to bring it up again, i just know how eerily similar this is to a past experience you’ve had. and i hoped that i wouldn’t be in a position to make you feel that way again. i don’t know why this happened, i'm sorry.”

he looked down at you incredulously. genuinely unable to believe that you were sitting next to him on an ambulance, beaten up with bruises and scars after a home invasion attack, worried about how he would feel when he got to you. it was enough to finally let the swell of tears saved up in his eyes fall.

“oh sweetheart,” he chokes out, realizing you’ve been trying to be brave for him this whole time, “what happened is not your fault, do you understand me? my job is to always worry about you and your safety. when garcia said the address i…i couldn’t even process it, i don’t even know how i got to the car,” he shook his head, “but i am the last person you need to push your emotions down for. i will always take them in stride and love you even more for that, okay?”

“okay,” you take a shaky breath, “i love you.”

“i love you.” he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

both of your heads look up at an approaching figure, who you quickly recognize to be ssa derek morgan. you knew spencer hadn’t told the team about you yet, so you tried to sit up independently as fast as you could before he came over and suspected something.

spencer’s grip didn’t let up when he bent down and whispered, “it’s okay, he knows.” you look up at him with wide eyes when derek finally reaches you.

“reid, i already talked to the detectives and we’re good to go when you’re ready,” he turns his body to you and gives you a comforting smile, “hi sweetheart, i’m derek morgan, it’s nice to meet you.”

spencer rolls his eyes at the nickname while you giggle softly, “hi derek, i’ve heard so much about you. it's nice to finally meet you too.”

“i wish it were under better circumstances,” he sighs, “listen, i know it’s all still really fresh for you, but it might help the case if you’re able to come in for a cognitive interview, or even talk to a sketch artist.”

spencer doesn’t miss a beat before protesting, “absolutely not. we can do it later, it’s fine.”

“reid-“

you look up at him placing your hand on his chest, “spence, it’s okay. i want to help, please.”

he rests his hand on top yours and gives it a light squeeze, “okay, but i’m not leaving you alone for a second.”

“i didn’t think you would.” you smile.

“alright lovebirds, you can have your private time later, we should go now.” derek teases.

spencer groans, “see this is why i didn’t say anything.”

“you think i’m bad? wait till penelope meets her.”

the three of you pile into the car before starting the drive to spencer’s apartment so he could get you a change of clothes and other things you might need. you end up falling asleep in the back seat, the final stage of your shock sinking in like a rock. spencer checks on you from the rear view mirror and sees you passed out, and smiles.

“she’s cute,” derek starts, “can i ask how long?”

“nine months.” he replies, fishing for something out of his pocket.

“pretty boy hid a girl from all of us for nine months? maybe we’re not as good profilers as we thought.”

“imagine that,” he laughs, and gestures to the item in his hand, “look.”

spencer’s holding out a well loved photo booth strip with three pictures, of you and spencer from the time you went to a local county fair. you’re sitting in his lap, mostly due to the cramped space and the expansive limbs. the first picture is the two of you holding up finger guns attempting to be as back to back as you can. the second picture, you intended it to be a normal one where you both smile at the camera, but spencer couldn’t take his eyes off you and the picture captured the love struck gaze he had on you. the last one you were about to tell him the idea for it, when he grabbed your face and pulled you closer to kiss you, neither of you knowing when the final picture snapped.

the edges were worn out and frayed, clearly broken down by the oils on his fingers from pulling it out frequently. it was his most treasured item, a constant reminder of what was always waiting for him when he got back from grueling cases, and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

“you look really happy, kid.” derek says, thinking about the many times he’s seen his friend at rock bottom, the things that have been so brutally taken from him, and the suffering he’s had at the hands of his job. his heart warms for his friend, who seemed to finally catch a break.

“i am.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #bau team #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction

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papasmoke · 5 months

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This evening, Israeli residents set fire twice to the perimeter of the UNRWA Headquarters in occupied East Jerusalem.

This took place while UNRWA and other UN Agencies’ staff were on the compound.

While there were no casualties among our staff, the fire caused extensive damage to the outdoor areas. The UNRWA headquarters has on its grounds a petrol and diesel station for the Agency’s fleet of cars.

Our director with the help of other staff had to put out the fire themselves as it took the Israeli fire extinguishers and police a while before they turned up.

A crowd accompanied by armed men were witnessed outside the compound chanting “Burn down the United Nations” (see video below 👇 from Israeli media).

This is an outrageous development. Once again, the lives of UN staff were at a serious risk.

In light of this second appalling incident in less than a week, I have taken the decision to close down our coumpound until proper security is restored.

Over the past two months, Israeli extremists have been staging protests outside the UNRWA compound in Jerusalem, called by an elected member of the Jerusalem municipality.

This week, the protest became violent when demonstrators threw stones at UN staff and at the buildings of the compound.

Over the past months, UN staff have regularly been subjected to harassment and intimidation. Our compound has been seriously vandalized and damaged.

On several occasions, Israeli extremists threatened our staff with guns.

It is the responsibility of the State of Israel as an occupying power to ensure that United Nations personnel and facilities are protected at all times.

UN staff, premises and operations should be protected at all times in line with international law.

I call on all those who have influence to put an end to these attacks and hold all those responsible accountable.

The perpetrators of these attacks must be investigated and those responsible must be held accountable.

Anything less will set a new dangerous standard.

-Philippe Lazzarini, commissioner general of UNRWA

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astorianyxkings · 10 months

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There's always people theorizing how the Batfamily hides Jason disappearance and reappearance, but I literally haven't seen anyone use the best explanation: Witness Protection.

Like this literally answers every question. The Death Certificate? They had to fake his death. The empty grave? Obviously it had to be believable. The time when Wayne Heir "Richie Wayne" refused to step foot in Gotham and talk to his father? He was pissed about Jason's (non) death. Brucie Wayne's very real depression after his death? Well he lost contact with his son and he was under immense stress from the government.

Like this literally answers every question I can come up with. Why has no one said he was in witness protection? And if people have done it, send me fics and prompts because I'm obsessed.

And the best part is, the Waynes are so stupidly rich that they could pull it off. Lex Luther could try and conduct his own investigation but somehow he can never find anything concrete. And if he gets too close either Babs hacks them or Tim just calls up Conner for a distraction.

One time Jason gets cornered and asked how he felt about returning to his life after being in Witness Protection. Unfortunately, him and Bruce weren't on the best terms to explain the whole story but he comes in clutch. He spins the tale about how heartbroken he was to see his brother, father and grandfather grieving and how honored he was when he learnt his new little brother idolized him. Tim got ahold of a copy of the interview and will never let Jason live it down.

The media doesn't ask Bruce questions about Jason's death because last time they did he broke down and a suddenly furious reporter chastised them and reminded them that while Jason may be alive Bruce still mourned his death. The picture of Bruce in tears at the interview is currently one of Jason's favourite lockscreens.

Same goes for Dick. Any questions of his brother's death results in (1) Richie Wayne ready to throw hands at any and everybody, (2) his wife (well one of them) Barbara Gordon threatening the reporters or (3) That same Metropolis reporter chastising the whole community again.

#dc comics #batfam #bruce wayne #jason todd #yes the reporter is clark #hes ready to fight for b and dick #vicky vale wonders if jason todd wayne was in witness protection due to something involving the red hood #jason goes on twitter and bashes the red hood's whole persona #dick grayson retweets that red hood is trying and is just a little lost #the official batman twitter likes that tweet #it causes a huge mess for both barbara and jim gordon to clean up #they knew they shouldn't have gotten involved with gothams pet billionaire and his weird kids

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sunderwight · 3 months

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SV AU where Luo Binghe answers Shen Qingqiu's "do you want power?" question differently, so Shen Qingqiu cannot mentally justify pushing him into the Abyss, and resolves to just let the System kill him instead. Even though he doesn't want to die, it's probably still better to just get yeeted out of his body than to be brutally dismembered after forcing his favorite disciple to suffer terribly.

However, the System picks up on this philosophical shift in the user, and begins to take counter-measures.

Without-a-Cure ratchets up exponentially. Around the same time, Luo Binghe discovers an ancient record in the libraries that claims some rare compound or other which can only be found in the Endless Abyss, is reputed to cure all poisons, even the most deadly spiritual kind.

When Shen Qingqiu is too weak to even attend the Immortal Alliance Conference, Luo Binghe initially plans to stay by his bedside. But then he overhears Shang Qinghua whispering about a mysterious plot with a being on the other side of a portal, about arranging a demonic invasion, and afterwards, his shishu mutters something about the Endless Abyss.

Luo Binghe returns to his unconscious master's bedside, and begs him to hold on for however long it will take, because Binghe will return with the cure.

By the time Shen Qingqiu's fever breaks, the Immortal Alliance has come and gone, and with it his poor disciple. What's worse, the whole cultivation world seems to have caught on to the fact that Luo Binghe is a demon! That wasn't supposed to come out yet! But without Shen Qingqiu to help shield him, his seal broke early and in front of more than a few witnesses. Cang Qiong has fallen under a lot of unflattering speculation for harboring such a "creature".

Shen Qingqiu supposes he should have known that there would be no escaping fate. And yet, even with the knowledge that Binghe will come back, and that this time he won't even harbor a grudge against his master for pushing him in, that -- in a sense -- Shen Yuan has been spared and this is probably the 'best case scenario', somehow it's not any easier to deal with. Especially not when he knows that his poor disciple doesn't even want the rewards that will follow after it, that he's suffering for nothing except the fickle mandates of some narrative destiny.

Also, he didn't figure out that Shang Qinghua is Airplane, so he has no fellow transmigrator to understand or help him vent. He's just alone in his knowledge, sickly, fretted over and grieving (not that he can admit the latter), while the sect whispers that the Xiu Ya sword is probably not long for this world now. If the poison doesn't kill him, perhaps his disgrace will. Cang Qiong's good name has been dragged through the mud, and Huan Hua Palace is looking to beat it down further. There are even some who claim that Luo Binghe must have been behind Sha Hualing's earlier invasion, and poisoned his own master because of it! Shen Qingqiu can't stand such talk, nor the pitying, condescending looks he receives whenever he tries to defend his disciple's character.

The writing is on the wall, however. If Shen Qingqiu won't die as a scum villain, the story seems to be planning to kill him off as the tragically deceased mentor.

Meanwhile Luo Binghe takes longer to get out of the Abyss this time. Not for lack of motivation, but because he needs to find his goddamn macguffin first! And then he has to protect it, and get both it and himself safely out of the Abyss! Which means he can't just rush through killing everything, he has to take his time to plan and prepare, even though he wants to rush through because every minute he spends in the Abyss is another minute where Shen Qingqiu could be dying.

When Binghe finally gets out, it's to find that the righteous sects, headed by Huan Hua Palace, are conducting a formal investigation into Cang Qiong Mountain, specifically into the allegations of consorting with demons and the corruption of the Qing Jing Peak Lord. He hurries to the palace to intervene, though by what means even he's not sure.

He arrives just as the Huan Hua Palace disciples are removing Shen Qingqiu's nearly-lifeless body from the water prison.

Just in time for the expected stirring final words of his old shizun, Shen Qingqiu thinks. Imagine his surprise when Luo Binghe force-feeds him a weird potion plus like a liter of blood. Binghe, this is not the dignified end that your shizun had planned!

#bingqiu #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain

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ririblogsss · 6 months

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Danny the park crazy guy

Ok this follows Danny with him deciding he needs to get out of Amity Park cause he's parents are getting more and more obsessed with catching Phantom. And the plans he'd over heard were sending him into panic attacks. Not only that a new management was placed for the GIW, and with that they had become more brutal and accurate with their capturing. Danny couldn't make sure ghosts were safe and protect civilians, so Danny made a deal with Technus in exchange for most of the tech Danny has made in the past 6 months Technus has to hack into the portals that his parents and Vlad owned and permanently destroy them. Technus also made sure to wipe all the information on how to re-build the portal and planted a bug that will corrupt any file trying to mimic the portals code/mechanics.

At first Dannys plan was to play the part of the defenseless boy who just witnessed his parents whole life work go down the drain, and pretend that ghost never happened. He's parents were sad (understatement of the century) but they soon found something to hyper focus on, before becoming ecto-biologist, they were trying to find ways to make liquid that would dissolve plastic in a non-lethal and non-toxic way. So after 2 months of not doing anything and only staying in bed eating ice-cream and fudge its like a light bulb turned on onto of their heads, and Madeline and Jack went back to their old selves. They still had moments were they would gaze back at their projects with heartbroken eyes, and Danny could help but blame himself for his parents suffering.

Its like one day everything was close to normality (as normal as amity park could be) people weren't mentioning ghost in fear that one would appear out of spite. Classes went uninterrupted people were actually happy for that.

But then the GIW started making moves, as they were getting more and more restless with no ghost sightings in the last 6 months.

Then 3 months ago everything went to shit......

Danny could only explain it as if the Salem witch trials had started. But instead it was the 21st century and people were being accused of being / cooperating / aiding ghosts. The GIW had stormed into the town hall and had claimed that Amity park was in full quarantine. No one in no one out. Vlad was taken in for 'investigation' accused of working with the ghost because he never helped the GIW or offered funds, hence committing treason the US government.

After that People would be taken out of their homes and obligated to take tests to prove they weren't with the enemy, if they passed they went back to their homes traumatized. if they failed.... Well no one really knows, but one might guess from all the screaming.

Ironically. Dannys parents were the fist accused of cooperating with the enemy. The GIW stated that they seemed suspicious from the start as they never truly caught anything. he hadn't seen them since they were drugged and stuffed into the back of a van. Danny was thankful that Jazz (for collage) and Dani (traveling in Bangladesh) were out of Amity, but it wasn't like he could contact them and tell them what was happening.

The GIW had cut all contact to the rest of the word from Amity Park probably because what they were doing was considered illegal and definitely were crossing human rights.

Luckily Sams and Tuckers family were able to come to an agreement with the GIW so they could be exempted from the quarentine (buy themselves a way out). Unluckily Danny like most families didn't have those types of resources.

But Danny isn't a Fenton for nothing, craziness, gull and genius ran through his veins. So every morning when they were obligated out of their homes and made to sit on the grass of the park square while the agents searched for any 'evidence' in their homes. Danny would use his core to emit a frequency that only other ghost and some metas could hear. But that wasn't what Danny was communicating to no.

He was sending commands to all the animals he had befriended the last 15 years of his life. You see ever since Danny was a kid he loved how one could be able to domesticate any animal as long as you had food. So Danny when he was a kid applied The Operant conditioning to all the animals he crossed paths with.

A few weeks after his accident (death) when Danny was making his daily feeding times for the animals in exchange for trinkets and money he realized something. He could understand what the animals 'spoke' and the animals could understand him through the vibrations of his core. When he asked CW about it he only told him that ghost speak allowed him to communicate with anything and anyone if he had a close enough relationship towards them.

Basically this meant that Danny had hundreds if not thousands of animals (rats, street dogs and cats, pigeons, squirrels ect.. ) at his disposal. The only reason he never used them when fighting Ghosts was obvious he wasn't going to risk the life of his friends.

And right now his friends were making underground escape routes for all of the Amity Parkers. The plan was already being set in motion. Everyone knew their part.

One group would be distraction, a group of kids would scream and point in the opposite direction of the escape route and say they had seen a ghost and it was trying to hurt them. The GIW would be guided into a wooded area were they would be attacked by the more predatorial animals. Making them call for back up.

One group would composed of the most athletic adults / young adults would go into the main base of the GIW (check for survivors and help them get out).

Another group (the elderly) was in charge of checking that everyone was accounted for.

Mothers, would be evacuated first with their children, they would be the get away drivers. Different drivers would take different routs. Some left the country other the continent itself. Some when to larger cities for hiding amongst the crowd. But the main goal was stick to your family and preferably if you can go alone. The less people the less likely you are to getting caught.

And the teenagers from casper high, would ensure all their traces were lost making sure all phones and gadgets were left behind, as to avoid getting tracked down.

And that's how Amity Park became a dead town (pun intended) in less than 60 minutes.

This leads us to the present.

It had been 7 months since Danny had left Amity park. he hadn't seen anyone or contacted anyone from there since. The over all consensus was that everyone had to go no contact with one another as to not raise awareness as to why so many people from different places were constantly calling one another. Danny was certain that Jazz and Dani had been contacted by Sam and Tucker about the situation in Amity. What he wasn't sure of is if they knew he was out of Amity or even alive for that matter.

Danny was not dealing with what happened well. One of the guys who went into the Town Hall pulled him a aside for a second when they were evacuating to tell him. That he had seen both his parents bodies. They had not survived. Not many who were taken against their will into the Hall came out spared.

Danny was devastated with his parent untimely death, he only hoped they had a humane one.

So no Danny was not ok. he knew Jazz would criticize his copping methods. But if taking over a park in the middle of a crime riddled city was sooooo bad then why did he have the support of the Bats. (not the vigilantes the actual cave bats).

Danny had gotten to Gotham not too long ago (about 4 1/2) months, and decided that the GIW wouldn't dare on their life go into a city were the 'wolds greatest detective and most feared man live'. Danny made an abandoned building overlooking the park his own. he quickly became allies with the fauna there and soon his rein over the part began.

---

It started slowly, honest to god not a single local though anything of the bony kid laughing his ass off as he oversaw birds and other critters alike help him build what looked like a greenhouse. They did what any Gothamite would do mind their own damn business and go on with their day.

It wasn't unlit the trees and torn plants started to build a wall like structure around the park that they started to think that the kid was going to be the next Poison Ivy. Worst of all they some have speculated seeing Pamela and Harley go in and out of the park... both smiling like proud parents. Some say that the kid was an ex Wayne kid that was sent into an asylum, and was kept quiet. Some speculate that the kids a meta that controls all animals. Some state they saw the kid talk to the animals and the animals actually listened and did word for word what he asked.

But Gothamites weren't that worried if they were honest. The kid (Danny as he was now known) brought more entertainment (of the good kind) to Gotham he fit right in. The only thing that made him stand out was his mid-western accent. When asked where he was from he would only stare at you while an animal (different every time mostly racoons) would chase you away. Other than that the kid was a sweetheart he would often bring the veggies and fruits he cultivates in the park to homeless shelters so that the residents would have a 'more nutritious and full diet'.

The kid would send animals to keep watch on kids and be alerted if any were at risk he would drop in and help in a very unusual way. And he always traded money for little things and bottle caps anything handmade (especially by kids) was infinitely rewarded with money and an automatic meal.

Danny was known as the Gotham parks crazy. But he was their crazy and no government (illegal) agency of a brigade of bats and birds was going to take him away from them.

(waaa this was way longer that expected I only wanted to write a sentence of local crazy Danny, and I just ended up writting mostly art other stuff)

#dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton

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privateinvestigatorsuniverse · 2 years

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What is the mandatory investigation process that any investigator does follow?

Missing cases are indeed the toughest ones so far. All of a sudden, when you hear that someone close to you has gone missing breaks your heart. The most difficult is when you don’t understand why a person took such a drastic step. But yes, if something similar happened to your life, without wasting any more time, just contact the missing persons Brisbane professionals. And see how the professionals do investigate the case with heart and soul.

Going through various records

Any experienced investigator will take a deep dig through the various available information. They will scout through public and personal databases. Talking about public records, they will search the marriage certificates, divorce, birth details, official documents, whether working or not and many more.

Social media hunting

Nowadays, you will see that a massive set of information regarding any person is available on their social media account. The investigators use their theory of deduction and try to find out some relevant information regarding the missing person. Like who was majorly in touch with the person and what types of posts they used to share. Also, who is the person who usually comments on the post? So after summing up all the details, they move on with the investigation.

Checking phone logs

Now phone log database is one of the critical pieces of evidence when investigating any missing person case. The investigators take out the full details of the phone log. And after that, they tried to find who was in communication with the missing person. Also, attempts to determine which was the last dialled number on the phone log list. Precisely the investigators try to track the entire activity on the cell phone. And try hard to decipher the psychology of the person during that time.

Final say

These are a few mandatory processes that any Missing Persons Investigation specialists follow.

#Missing Persons Investigation #Missing Persons Investigation brisbane #Missing Persons Investigation detective #Private Investigation Companies #professional Missing Persons Investigation #Missing Persons private Investigation #missing persons case #missing persons specialist #Tracking the Missing Person Information #finding a missing person #Finding & locating missing people #witness protection investigations #Experienced Missing Persons Investigator #Lost friends

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invisibleicewands · 3 months

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Please come and see me because I’ll be dead soon’: how Michael Sheen got sucked into a forever chemicals exposé

An opera-loving member of high society turned eco-activist who was forced into police protection with a panic button round his neck. A Hollywood actor who recorded said activist’s life story as he was dying from exposure to the very chemicals he was investigating. Throw in two investigative journalists who realise not everything is as it seems, then uncover some startling truths, and you have “podcasting’s strangest team” on Buried: The Last Witness.

On their award-winning 2023 podcast Buried, the husband and wife duo Dan Ashby and Lucy Taylor dug into illegal toxic waste dumping in the UK and its links to organised crime. This time, they focus on “forever chemicals”, specifically polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) and set out to discover whether one whistleblower may have been decades ahead of his time in reporting on their harmful impact.

“It’s amazing how big the scale of this story is,” says Ashby, as we sit backstage at the Crucible theatre, where they are doing a live discussion as part of Sheffield DocFest. “With this series, we don’t just want it to make your blood turn cold, we want it to make you question your own blood itself.”

It all started when Taylor and Ashby were sent a lead about the work of former farmer’s representative Douglas Gowan. In 1967, he discovered a deformed calf in a field and began to investigate strange goings on with animals close to the Brofiscin and Maendy quarries in south Wales. He linked them to the dumping of waste by companies including the nearby Monsanto chemical plant, which was producing PCBs.

PCBs were used in products such as paint and paper to act as a fire retardant, but they were discovered to be harmful and have been banned since 1981 in the UK. However, due to their inability to break down – hence the term forever chemical – Gowan predicted their legacy would be a troubling one. “I expect there to be a raft of chronic illness,” he said. He even claimed that his own exposure to PCBs (a result of years of testing polluted grounds) led his pancreas and immune system to stop working. “I’m a mess and I think it can all be attributed to PCBs,” he said.

However, Gowan wasn’t a typical environmentalist. “A blue-blood high-society Tory and a trained lawyer who could out-Mozart anyone,” is how Taylor describes him in the series. He would even borrow helicopters from friends in high places to travel to investigate farmers’ fields. Gowan died in 2018 but the pair managed to get hold of his life’s work – confidential reports, testing and years of evidence. “I’m interested in environmental heroes that aren’t cliche,” says Ashby. “So I was fascinated by him. But then we started to see his flaws and really had to weigh them up. My goodness it’s a murky world we went into.”

The reason they were able to delve even deeper into this murky world is because of the award-winning actor Michael Sheen who, in 2017, came across Gowan’s work in a story he read. He was so blown away by it, and the lack of broader coverage, that he tracked him down. “I got a message back from him saying: ‘Please come and see me because I’ll be dead soon,’” says Sheen. “I took a camera with me and spent a couple of days with him and just heard this extraordinary story.”

What Gowan had been trying to prove for years gained some traction in 2007, with pieces in the Ecologist and a Guardian article exploring how “Monsanto helped to create one of the most contaminated sites in Britain”. One was described as smelling “of sick when it rains and the small brook that flows from it gushes a vivid orange.” But then momentum stalled.

Years later, in 2023, Ashby and Taylor stumbled on a recording of Sheen giving the 2017 Raymond Williams memorial lecture, which referenced Gowan and his work. Before they knew it, they were in the actor’s kitchen drinking tea and learning he had conducted a life-spanning seven-hour interview with Gowan before his death. So they joined forces. Sheen isn’t just a token celebrity name added for clout on this podcast; he is invested. For him, it’s personal as well as political. “Once you dig into it, you realise there’s a pattern,” he says. “All the places where this seems to have happened are poor working-class areas. There’s a sense that areas like the one I come from are being exploited.”

Sheen even goes to visit some contaminated sites in the series, coming away from one feeling sick. “That made it very real,” he says. “To be looking into a field and going: ‘Well, I’m pretty sure that’s toxic waste.’” Sheen was living a double life of sorts. “I went to rehearsals for a play on Monday and people were like, ‘What did you do this weekend?’” he says. “‘Oh, I went to the most contaminated area in the UK and I think I may be poisoned.’ People thought I was joking.” Sheen ended up being OK, but did have some temporary headaches and nausea, which was a worry. “We literally had to work out if we had poisoned Michael Sheen,” says Ashby, who also ponders in the series: “Have I just killed a national treasure?”

The story gets even knottier. Gowan’s findings turn out to be accurate and prescient, but the narrative around his journey gets muddy. As a character with a flair for drama, he turned his investigation into a juicy, riveting story filled with action, which could not always be corroborated. “If he hadn’t done that, and if he’d been a nerdy, analytical, detail-oriented person who just presented the scientific reports and kept them neatly filed, would we have made this podcast?” asks Taylor, which is a fascinating question that runs through this excellent and gripping series.

Ashby feels that Gowan understood how vital storytelling is when it comes to cutting through the noise. “We have so much science proving the scale of these problems we face and yet we don’t seem to have the stories,” he says. “I think Douglas got that. Fundamentally, he understood that stories motivate human beings to act. But then he went too far.”

However, this is not purely about Gowan’s story – it’s about evidence. The Last Witness doubles up as a groundbreaking investigation into the long-lasting impact of PCBs. “We threw the kitchen sink at this,” says Ashby. “The breakthrough for us is that the Royal Society of Chemistry came on board and funded incredibly expensive testing. So we have this commitment to go after the truth in a way that is hardly ever done.”

From shop-bought fish so toxic that it breaches official health advice to off-the-scale levels of banned chemicals found in British soil, the results are staggering. “The scientist almost fell off his chair,” says Ashby. “That reading is the highest he has ever recorded in soil – in the world. That was the moment we knew Douglas was right and we are now realising the scale of this problem. The public doesn’t realise that even a chemical that has been banned for 40 years is still really present in our environment.”

To go even deeper into just how far PCBs have got into our environment and food chain, Ashby and Taylor had their own blood tested. When Taylor found 80 different types of toxic PCB chemicals in her blood it was a sobering moment. “I was genuinely emotional because it’s so personal,” she says. “It was the thought of this thing being in me that was banned before I was even born and the thought of passing that on to my children.” Ashby adds: “We’ve managed physical risk in our life as journalists in Tanzania and with organised crime, but more scary than a gangster is this invisible threat to our health.”

In order to gauge the magnitude of what overexposure to PCBs can do, they headed to Anniston, Alabama, once home to a Monsanto factory. “As a journalist, you have an inbuilt scepticism and think it can’t be that bad,” says Ashby. “But when I got there I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I hate to use words like dystopian, but it was. There is a whole massive school that can��t be used. There’s illnesses in children and cancers. It truly was the most powerful vignette of the worst-case example of these chemicals.”

It’s bleak stuff but instilling fear and panic is not the intention. “Obviously, we’re really concerned about it,” says Ashby. “And although the environmental crises we face do feel overwhelming, it is incredible how a movement has formed and how individuals are taking action in communities. The lesson to take from Douglas is that the response doesn’t have to be resignation. It can be agency.”

#Michael Sheen #Interview #Buried #The Last Witness #BBC Radio 4 #it's interesting that with two little kids at home he went in a poisoned place anyway

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doitforbangchan · 5 months

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All Bark and No Bite- 15

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter warnings: Fem/Afab reader, Smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), kissing, grinding, biting (a lot), blood, blood in mouth, dom!Jeongin, sub!Reader, subspace, virginity loss, breeding kink, loss of control, A/b/o rut symptoms, overstimulation, cursing, crying, pet names, begging, fluff, angst.

WC: 8.1k

You don’t recall how you got to bed last night. Everything after the… intimacy is a big blur. You vaguely remember being put into the huge bathtub, clearly needing a wash down after the copious amount of slick that came from you and covered your thighs. There's a faint memory of both Chan and Felix joining you in the oversized tub, showering you with love and praises.

As you came too that morning, you noticed you were wrapped in not one pair of arms, but two. That's right. During your bath last night you had laid a claiming bite to Felix. You were so delirious as you floated through deep space, that on instinct you had just leaned over and bit into him. Thankfully Felix didn’t mind, though both he and Chan had been shocked at the sudden display. Felix instead just held you tighter to him as you dug your teeth into his skin, tears of happiness and love bursting from his eyes.

You could surmise that after that encounter you had been apprehensive to leave the beta, thus how all three of you ended up in Chan's bed together. Chan had his arm draped over you on one side, snoring soundly and mouth agape. Felix was on your opposite side curled up into you, seemingly as close as he possibly could. You felt at peace there in the comfort and warmth of the two boys. So much so that after reflecting on the previous night your eyes started to droop again. Just before sleep could reclaim you there was a booming thudding that shook the whole house.

All at once, all three of you shot up in panic. Chan immediately went into protective mode, scanning both you and Felix quickly before he clamored out of bed. You and Felix looked at each other in fear and the beta grabbed onto you, pulling you into him. Just as Chan had reached the doorknob to leave his room to go investigate, there was another crash. This time it sounded like something shattered. Then came the deafening cry-

“CHAN HELP!”

His skin felt like it was melting off, the blistering heat in his blood making him sweat bullets. Jeongin hadn’t slept all night. Not a single second. His brain and body would not let him rest for even a moment after what he had witnessed in the living room last night. After seeing you like that, in that blissful and fucked out state. It was enough to drive a man mad.

Or in this case, enough to drive a recently presented alpha into a rut. The last two (and only two) other times he went into a rut he had been able to sense it for days. Had been able to prepare for it and remove himself from the house. This time was different though. There hadn’t been any warning, there hadn't been any signs, nothing.

At first he tried to shake it off. He had skulked back to his room seamlessly last night. He figured he was just having a normal horny reaction, something he’s been dealing with ever since he met you. Sleeping it off would help, right?

Wrong

Jeongin tried, he really did. He drank some water to cool himself down and laid in his bed. Soon enough he threw his blankets off of him, feeling way too hot under them. Then he opened his window, trying to get some air flow to cool him down. When that didn’t work he tore his shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat that was building on his forehead and chest.

Then the pacing began. For some reason he couldn’t sit still, his skin was crawling and he began to feel antsy. Time ran away from him as he paced his room. Back and forth, over and over again. The pain didn’t begin until he started to run his fingers through his hair, when his mind wandered off and he imagined it was you who was touching his hair.

He couldn’t stop the mental images of you he had seen. How deep you took Felix's dick down your throat. Your glassy eyes when you choked on it. The ripple of your ass after each thrust into you from behind. The whimpers and cries of pleasure you let go of as you came. Fuck, don’t even get him started on the smell that permeated out of you. The thick arousal had spread through every orifice of the house, so thick he figured he could have stuck out his tongue and tasted you in the air.

He craved it more than breathing. His cock craved it. His boner had been steadily growing in his pj shorts. A continuous dripping of his precum spouting through the tip and making a wet spot on his shorts.

Jeongin felt a dangerous amount of sheer aggression within him begging to be released. It was at this point he knew exactly what was happening, and by now it was too late to leave or do anything about it. It was nearing dawn by now, he could see the first sign of the sun beginning to crest over the thick forest outside the window.

While he was still somewhat in his right mind he decided the best course of action would be to lock himself up in his room, and pray it ended swiftly. Not only did he lock his door but he also pushed his dresser in front of his door so no one could enter his space. Maybe not his smartest move but in his rattled brain it seemed like the best course of action.

After another hour he couldn’t stop humping into his pillows, begging for some kind of release. He would take literally anything. But nothing came, or more like he couldn’t cum. He was growling and crying as he tried desperately to get off. Deep inside himself he knew why he couldn’t. It’s because he didn’t have you.

“Fuck!” He cursed louding, gripping into his now moistened pillow with both hands and literally tearing it into two pieces. His sense of reality was slipping quickly.

There was a tentative knock on his door that startled the alpha.

“Innie? Are you ok?” The sleepy voice of Jisung rang in his ears through the door. The beta tried the door but was met with it being locked. The handle rattled. “Why is your door locked? You never lock it.”

Jeongin growled at the attempted intrusion. “Go away Jisung.”

Jisung could hear the menace in the younger boy's tone, and it shook him more awake. Then came the overwhelming amount of pheromones that leaked through the cracks in the alphas door. ‘Holy fucking shit. Innie is in a rut.’

“Innie… If you're going into a rut right now, then we gotta get you outta here. You gotta go to the safehouse.” Jisungs words were almost a whisper, the scent was making his throat close up and his eyes water.

“There was no time, it’s too late for that. Leave me alone.” The alpha grumbled, eyes trained on the door with malicious intent. He had never in his life felt so feral. It was kind of scary. He was still sweating profusely.

In hindsight, the next thing the beta said may not have been his brightest, “ Well you can’t stay here. What if you hurt someone? What if you hurt baby?”

At the mention of you, the alpha lost control of himself. There was a deep rumbling coming from within him as his instincts took over and he knew he just needed you. He had to get to his omega immediately.

Jeongin shot off his bed hastily and to the barricade he had created for himself. With all his might he ripped the opposing furniture away from the door, creating a loud boom that shook the house as it clattered away from the door. He then went to unlock the door and rip it open, but was met with the terrified hands of Jisung who gave him a harsh push back into his room. The force caused the alpha to fall back into another desk, knocking down a lamp that resided there. There was a shattering clang as it hit the floor.

Jisung panicked and yanked the door closed, holding it there as tight as he could, but he knew he would be no match for a raging alpha. So he did the only thing he could do… Get help.

“CHAN HELP!”

The second Chan left his room he could tell exactly what was happening. The smell alone was enough to fill him in on the predicament. He sprinted through the halls until he reached the source of the commotion.

Jisung was still holding the door while he fought back cries. “Channie, thank fucking god.”

“What the fuck happened?” The alpha demanded, eyes hard.

“Innie, he -” Ji was cut off by a strong pull against the door, the beta unable to keep position and almost flying forward with it as it was yanked.

Chan pulled Jisung back and flung himself into Jeongin before he could leave the room. “Go get Changbin, now Ji.” He called to the beta, who took off towards Bins room. Chan could see the broken mess on the floor, a sense of understanding coming over him. Then he focused back on Jeongin. He had his arms wrapped around the alpha boy as he thrashed in his hold. “Jeongin, you have to stop. You're in a rut, this isn’t you.” Chan was using his head alpha voice to try and corral the younger, but it did little to quell him.

Back in Chan's room, you and Felix could hear a commotion down on the second floor of the house. Without a thought other than to help, you slipped out of Felix's hold and off the bed, ignoring the intense ache that was settled between your legs.

“Baby stop!” Felix tried to reach for you but you were quicker, shooting out of the room with him hot on your tail. You managed to stay one step ahead of him until right when you made it to the threshold where there was now a gathering of the pack. Felix wrapped you in his hold tightly before you could enter, his bright eyes scanning the situation. You could both tell by the scent that there was an alpha in a rut nearby. “We’re going back to Chan's room. This is no place for you.”

Peering in as you squirmed you could see Jeongin being held tightly against Changbin as Chan had a grip on his face, attempting to calm down the youngest alpha. Jisung was to the side, hands on his face as he observed. Jeongin’s eyes were wild as he attempted to push the other boys off of him, until suddenly the flailing stopped and his nose flared. He could sense you nearby with his currently heightened senses.

His gaze zeroed in on you just beyond his door, held by Felix, as you wore nothing but a t- shirt. “Omega.”

Chan swiftly turned his head to see you there, “Fuck. Felix get her out of here.” He sounded pissed now.

“M’ tryin!” The beta pulled at you, but you dead weighted yourself to make it harder. “Baby come on! Please!”

“No!” You protested, digging your heels in. “He needs me!” Your omega brain only has one mission at this very moment. Help the alpha. Make it better.

By now the other few members had come out of their rooms frantically, now crowding around the scene that was unfolding. It was quite the sight indeed. All alphas were in their underwear; having no time to change into clothes given the circumstances.

“Jesus fucking christ, can we not have one normal day?! For once?!” Minho shouted in exasperation. The eldest beta noticed Felix struggling with you and went to help. “Y/n, go to your room.”

“No!” you yelled again, tears coming to your lashes as you fought. “I can’t! He needs me!”

“For fuck sake, just listen for once!” Minho yelled at you, but it was kind of your thing to not listen to what he said. Instead you shook your head in defiance. The beta wanted to rip his hair out in frustration. “Fine. I won’t be responsible for this fucking mess.” He snarled as he threw his hands up and stomped past Hyunjin who quickly got out of the elder betas way. It was too early for this shit…

You looked to Chan, your eyes pleading and filled with crystalline tears. “Channie, please. Let me help him. I don’t know how or why, but I need to help him. Please, alpha.”

Chan cursed when he heard your begs, but then he noticed something. Once Jeongin had eyes on you he had calmed down. Minimally, but it was a noticeable improvement. The boy wasn’t fighting against them as hard and his breathing wasn’t as labored. He never would have grabbed Jeongin like this in the first place if he wasn’t fighting so bad and knocking shit over.

“Bin, hold him tight, ok?” Changbin nodded, latching onto the youngest alpha. He too had noticed the change. Chan went swiftly to you, grabbing your face in both hands and tilting your face up. “Do you even understand what you’re asking me right now, omega?”

You tried to nod but you couldn’t with his hold on your face. “Yes Chan, I think I do.”

“You think you do? Let me explain something to you, love. Innie has only ever gone through his rut twice before, and never with another person. Fuck, he’s never been with another person period.”

Jeongin was…a virgin?!

“He especially never went through it with an omega. This is a recipe for a man who is almost wild with need. Do you think that’s something you could handle?” His tone was skeptical as he searched for any sign of trepidation in your face. Chan remembers how he used to be when he started getting ruts. He was an insatiable asshole. To be fair, not much has changed.

Your eyes flitted over to Jeongin. He was still standing in the middle of his room being held and whispered to by Changbin. His predatory stare was locked on you; his pupils blown way out of proportion. It didn’t help that you had on nothing but Felix's shirt and nothing else.

“Honestly, Channie.” You looked back at him. “I believe I can handle it. I want to try.”

He stared at you for a moment longer, searching your eyes for anything that would negate what you said. When he found nothing he let out a sigh and dropped his hands from you. “If it becomes too much for you, call for me. Promise me you will.”

“I promise.” you stated with no hesitancy whatsoever.

He looked around at all the worried faces of the pack, then back to you to give you a hard stare. “Ok.. You win, omega.” You went to cheer but he cut you off, “First go take your pill. And you have to be sure to take it every single day, rut or no rut.”

“You got it!” You pulled him in for a swift kiss that surprised him, then you hightailed it back to Chan's room for your pill. You gulped it down with the glass of water that was left on the nightstand.

Honestly you had no clue why you were so excited. You knew how rough and demanding an alpha could be, one during a rut would be a whole other ball game. But something about it excited you. Maybe it was the prospect of a challenge, maybe it was anticipation of helping one of your alphas.

You skipped back down to the second floor, finding none of the betas present anymore. Chan had sent them back to their own devices- there was no need for anymore of a spectacle. The door to Jeongins room was closed now. Chan leaned back up against the door waiting for you.

He cupped your face again as you approached. “You really are the best omega, you know that?” You preened at his praise, leaning into his touch. “Take breaks when you need to. I’ll be out here with food for you both in a few hours.” After you nodded he gave you a passionate kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away. “ I love you.”

“I love you too, Channie.” he gave you another kiss then he let you go and stepped away from the door. You took a deep breath and reached for the door handle but before you could turn the handle it opened, revealing Changbin coming out of the room. He closed the door behind him.

“Hey baby. Be careful in there, Innie is chomping at the bit.” He chuckled, giving you a deep kiss as he passed. “I know you’ll be fine though. He loves you too much to hurt you, rut or not.”

Your face heated up, “He loves me?”

“Are you kidding?” Bin asked in surprise. “That kid loves you more than almost anything. We all do. You’re our special girl. Our precious baby.” He giggled when he saw your eyes fill with tears. “Don’t cry, baby. Save it for Innie.”

“I love you all too, Binnie. So much.” You yanked him down to plant another kiss on his lips. “Ok ok, I’m on a mission here.”

He threw his hands up and stepped back to stand next to Chan who had been watching your interaction. Any other time you would have taken a moment to ogle the two Alphas who were still in their underwear.

You debated knocking on but figured it would be pointless, so with a slight shake to your hands you turned the handle and opened the door. You cracked it open and stepped through the threshold, “Innie?” You heard a pained moan when you said his name.

Nothing could prepare you for the scene you walked into. There was your sweet Jeongin, laying on his bed, his clothes scattered across the room, and his fist jerking his red cock. His motions were jerky and rough, and his body was covered in sweat. His face was flushed and he was panting. His eyes were locked on your form the second you stepped into his room. The pupils in his eyes took over entirely, reminding you he was a predator and you were his prey.

“Omega,” It came out as a deep rumble from the back of his throat. “Come here.” There was no nicety in his voice, only gravelly desire.

With a gulp you took careful steps over to where he laid. The closer you got to him the quicker the pace of his hand went, his nostrils were flaring as he took in your scent. The state of him caused a pool of slick to gather in your core, and by the way he grit his teeth you knew he could smell it. “Hi, Innie..” You reached a tentative hand out to pat down his sweaty hair in an attempt to comfort him. Though comfort was not what he was after.

He took advantage of your outstretched hand, grabbing the appendage with lightning quick reflexes and hauling you onto his bed. In less than a second he had you trapped underneath him. His big hands had a grip on your hips underneath the shirt you wore and his face was shoved into your neck as he breathed in your scent.

Jeongins eyes turned into slits when he smelt the other members of the pack on you. “Take this shit off of you, now.” It came out as an intimidating growl, and with a burst of aggression he gripped the shirt and tore it right down the middle. You gasped when the now torn fabric fell off of you and when he literally tossed the opposing garment to the floor. “Mm that’s better.”

The alpha couldn’t help but gawk at your bare form underneath him. He was salivating at the sight of your breasts; your erect nipples just begging to be sucked on and bitten. You were starting to feel insecure at his excruciating stare. “Innie… You’re making me self conscious…” Your hands went to cover yourself but he grabbed your hands and held them down on each side of you.

A groan of objection left him “None of that, Omega. Don’t you ever hide from me.” He buried his face into your chest, licking over the perked skin. He hummed when you gave him a quiet yelp when he bit particularly hard at your nipple. “Need to hear you make that sound for me, again and again.”

He suckled once again before he let your hands go free, and he laid wet, sloppy kisses and nips down your body. He traveled south as he marked your skin with his mouth. His teeth repeatedly grazed over your skin, gathering the flesh between his teeth with each movement; all the while he still held your hands down by your sides.

Even though you were so sore from yesterday's activities, your body was slowly creating slickness to prepare for the alpha. When he laid a particularly rough nip you couldn’t stop the little whine, “Innie…”

Jeongin let out a growl at your whine, mouthing even further down until he finally reached his destination. He shuffled down until he was face to face with your core. His eyes closed as he breathed in the pure scent of you, finding it immediately mouth watering. Without a second thought he dove face first into your pussy. He rubbed his nose back and forth as he breathed you in, it made your face heat with how lewd it was.

You gasped when his hot mouth made contact. “Ah Jeongin!” You attempted to put your hands on his head but his firm hold kept your hands down still.

Jeongin wasted no time in lapping up your slick. The alpha moaned loudly when he got a taste of your juices. He buried his face as far into you as possible, almost as if he was trying to be absorbed by you completely. The way he licked and sucked at you was desperate and chaotic. He had found no rhythm and was going purely based on instinct. Hell, he wasn’t even breathing, just taking in as much as he could of you.

You moaned and rocked your hips against his face. Even though he was sloppy and untrained you still found yourself swimming in pleasure. When you moved your hips he lost focus on holding you for only a split second, but that was all you needed to remove your hands from his hold. You threw your now freed hands into his hair, tangling in his grown out locks.You pulled on the strands and he groaned raspily, sending vibrations into your clit that he was sucking on.

“Nhggh Innie, Alpha, oh my god.” At your words he increased his speed, thrusting his tongue deep into you, desperate to drink every drop he could. “Fuck, Innie, your gonna make me cum. Keep doing that and I’ll cum.” You wanted to be encouraging but were finding it hard with how intensely he ate at you. He did as you said, continuing his motions until he pushed you right over the precipice.

You felt the cord within you snap as you released all over his face and into his awaiting mouth. You gasped a cry when you came, your toes curling and legs shaking with rapture. The alpha didn’t stop once you had cum, though his slurping did get louder as he drank away your orgasm. You gave a weak push to his forehead in an attempt to make him stop and give you a breather. He didn’t stop. Instead he groaned sharply at you in response, and pulled you even closer. You weren’t sure that was even possible but he did it. Jeongin was so lost in you, he couldn’t get enough. His own hips were rutting themselves against his bed, acting on their own volition. You tried to push at him once again when the sucking became too much, but with lightning quick reflexes he slapped his hand against your thigh as he growled in warning. His blown out eyes pupils found yours as he looked up at you.

“Behave yourself, Omega. I will do as I please with you.” He smacked your thigh again, the sting making you hiss. “I had to wait long enough for you, I won’t wait any more. I’m taking what I want from you.” He didn’t wait for a response as he reburied his face within you.

This time he had begun to find a pattern. He was keeping track of every little moan and breath you released, learning exactly how to get you to make more of that delicious slick he craved. As he suckled and prodded it was only a matter of time before he had you on the cusp once again. Your grip tightened on his hair as you came with a breathless cry, the overstimulation becoming too much for you to handle and tears were streaming down your cheeks. Was he really a virgin? How could a boy who made you feel this good still be a virgin?

This time Jeongin let you push his face away, giving you a much needed moment to collect yourself. Your eyes were screwed shut and your body was trembling. As Jeongin pulled back he gazed at you with a predatory stare. He could see the quiver on your lips and the wetness of your tears. It was making him feral.

“Fuck, you are the most beautiful woman in the entire world.” The words have slipped from him involuntarily, but he meant everyone of them. “M so lucky you're my omega.” He kissed your inner thigh. You opened your eyes to see him staring right at you. “Say it.”

“Huh?” You were still coming down from your orgasm, your brain couldn’t keep up.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding. Alpha commanding it. This is the first time he had ever used his Alpha status in a command before. It made him feel powerful.

“M yours, Alpha.” You whimpered, giving into him. “Your omega.”

The second you finished speaking Jeongin turned his head and bared his sharp teeth, before digging them into the skin of your inner thigh. You screamed from the pinching “Jeongin!” He didn’t relent, instead he bit harder onto your skin. He was getting drunk on the way your blood filled his mouth. He wanted to make sure it would never fade.

After a few seconds he let go, lathing at the mark to soothe the marred skin. His tongue cleaned the area before he locked eyes with you once again. There was a hint of red that escaped the corner of his lips, and with a shaky hand you used your thumb to wipe away your blood from him. It was kind of surreal seeing him like this. Like a beast. You didn’t know he had it in him, even though he had shown you previously that he most certainly had it in him. You guessed that you should have taken him more seriously the last time he almost took you.

After wiping away the blood you cupped the side of his cheek affectionately, offering him a kind smile that made him purr. He slowly crawled up your body once again until he was face to face with you. His cock was red and leaking a steady stream of precum and you felt drip onto your stomach.

Jeongin only gave you a second before he pressed a hot kiss to your mouth, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself on him, both your slick and your blood. Quickly you wrapped your arms around him as he leaned his weight onto you. His hands came up to fondle your breasts, long fingers pulling at your nipples roughly. You squealed when he tugged just a little too hard, the pain making you jump. He huffed into your mouth at your movement.

“Fuck, Omega. I don’t think I can hold back from you any longer.” He shut his eyes tight when he pulled back to speak, as if trying to reign himself in. “I need to have you. Need to feel your pussy, baby.” He gave you no chance to respond, as he leaned back and with a bout of strength he flipped you onto your stomach. Once you were flipped he laid another harsh smack to you- this time on your ass, as he watched it jiggle for him. “Mm fucking hell. Present yourself to me, omega.” Another Alpha command you couldn’t resist even if you wanted too.

Even though you were already exhausted you used your strength to push yourself onto your knees and forearms, giving the alpha a clear view of your pussy from underneath you. And a view of the fresh bite on the inside of your thigh. The alpha groaned lustily when he gazed at the sight.

Jeongin settled himself behind you, running his fingers along your spine as if to soothe you. He leaned over you to coo in your ear “So pretty like this, omega. Never seen a prettier sight in my entire life.” You hummed in response, feeling your cheeks heat up. “ M gonna try not to be too rough with you, baby. Promise I’ll try.”

You nodded, “ Ok Innie.”

Suddenly his gentle touch was gone and replaced with a tight hold on your hips as he lined up with your opening. It took him a moment to line up correctly, having never shoved his dick into anything let alone a woman, it was quite daunting. Though he felt no nerves, only pure need and lust. Finally, without warning, he pushed his full length inside. You screeched at the sudden breach. Jeongin threw his head back in ecstasy, moaning loudly at the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Oh my fuckkkinnngg goooooood, omega. Fuck this feels so good.”

As soon as he said it he leaned over and bit you again, this time on the back of your right shoulder. You screamed again when he clamped on, “Jeongin, fuck!” You couldn’t deny how good it felt, the endorphins running through your whole body.

He dug his teeth further in as he started to thrust violently in and out of your abused hole. His pupils had turned into cat-like slits, and he was growling with each and every movement he made. The wet sound reverberated off the walls, echoes of the proof of your arousal filling the space. He knew deep down he needed to let go of your shoulder and calm down but he just couldn’t. He had never in his entire life felt this ravenous. He could see you white knuckling the sheets beneath you, and hear your labored breaths, but even so, he just could not stop.

His thrusts were sloppy as he rutted against you. He had found no rhythm in his hips, but despite that his angle was still hitting you just right. His cock was long and thick, just as an alphas should be. Little whimpers of his name and designation were leaving your mouth. When he heard his name come from you, Jeongin doubled down subconsciously, putting more of his weight into his thrusts and his grip hardened on your skin. The added pressure caused your arms to give out, and you fell face first into his sheets.

When you fell forward it made the alpha let go of your shoulder. The blood was dripping off the wound, rolling down onto his bed. He wanted to see this sight over and over again. “Precious little girl, look so good with my bite on you. Need to do it again.” His voice was thick and wet, as if he had a mouth full of your blood.

“S-slow d-down pl-eaassse” Your words were slurred as you practically begged him.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? What you signed up for when you begged the pack to let you help me? I thought you wanted to be my good little omega, don’t you baby?” His voice had a slight condensation to it, even through his raspy huffs.

The alpha then took his hands to spread your ass cheeks, getting even closer to you in the process. Now you had entered subspace for the second time in less than 24 hours, your mind was swimming and you couldn’t hold a coherent thought as Jeongin fucked into you. Jeongin was too caught up in his own pleasure to catch onto you slipping away. He scanned your back looking for another suitable spot, and once he had found one he leaned back onto you and bit into you for a third time. This time on the meat of your side by your ribs.

You didn’t hold back the deafening moan that escaped as you came, feeling a flood of emotions from both you and the alpha above you. You clenched around him tightly as you came, squeezing his dick and making him let out a howl as he let go of your skin. By now your back was littered with your smeared blood and his own saliva.

Before you even had a chance to finish shaking he pulled out of you suddenly, making you whine. Though almost instantly after your noise he used his strength to flip your body around so you could now lay on your back. He cared not for how your blood was sure to stain his sheets. You sighed in relief when you were laid down- no longer having to support yourself on exhausted limbs- but your solace was cut short when he pressed against you once again and thrust back into you. You wailed when he entered you again, your wet walls throbbing at the brutality of it.

Jeongin took your thighs and hauled them up as high as your body would allow, getting you into a mating press and holding onto your skin to keep you in that position while he pounds into your pussy.

For Jeongin this new angle was everything. He was so close to you, his cock hit even deeper than before and it felt so fucking good. The noises that escaped him were inhuman, he sounded more like a rabid dog than a person. He was licking fat stripes all over your neck, coating you even further with his saliva and his scent. He wanted you to drown in it.

“Fuck m’ gonna cum. Wanna cum inside you, omega. Wanna fill you up, fuck, wanna breed you.” He was blabbering as he neared his high, saying things he had never said aloud before. “Wanna give you sweet little babies, nngggg, keep you full of me forever. You wan it? Wan’ me to breed your pussy, omega?”

Fuck, his words were so filthy. Those added with the place you mentally free floated you found yourself subconsciously agreeing with everything he said. “Uh huh, br-breed me, alpha.”

The feeling was too much for the boy and with no warning he came inside of you. You shivered as you felt the heat from his cum coat your walls. It was thick and sticky as it shot deep within you. Thank god you had taken your birth control or you were sure he would have knocked you up. Especially with the way his knot inflated, keeping it all trapped within you.

Finally, he had stopped moving, choosing instead to fall on top of you and nuzzle into the side of your neck. He was panting deeply in your ear, the warmth of his breath being comforting somehow.

You had only a split second to enjoy the feeling, before you slipped in and out of unconsciousness.You were so worn out, your body just needed a moment to collect itself. The last thing you remember was the feeling of Jeongins fingers running up and down your sides while he caressed you gently as he felt his right mind return after his orgasm.

You could faintly hear his whispered apologies at the way he treated you and how good you are to him and how he loved you. It was enough to lull you into a peaceful nap. At least until his rut symptoms returned.

Chan was in his office down the hall, he had his door open fully so he was able to clearly hear you if you needed anything. He wasn’t nervous per say- more anxious to see how you handle Innie. If you could come out of it with the younger boy and remain in pleasant spirits, then he would know how well you could handle him when he eventually went into his rut. Chan honestly should have known that soon one of the alphas would go into an early rut. The fact that it was Jeongin really didn’t surprise him much, given how he had reacted when you went into heat. He felt a little guilty for not being better prepared. Chan knew eventually you would need a break, so he had asked Felix to make some goodies for you to enjoy later on.

Speaking of the beta, Felix was attempting to cheer himself up by baking. It was his favorite pastime so usually it brought him great joy. Though this time he couldn’t stop the pout that had settled into his features. To him, he felt like he had just gotten you back and now he’s being forced away again. He didn’t want to be selfish but fuck come on! He just misses his baby. But he’ll be damned if he won’t make you and Innie the best damn cookies you've ever had!

Minho was walking the property, attempting to calm his building irritation. ‘Why can’t she just fucking listen to me for once?’ He thought bitterly. It really stewed within him, making him more pissed off by the second. ‘Little girl just hasn’t learned her place yet, I’ll show her how to behave.’ His thoughts cut off when he was passing by the old greenhouse, hearing laughter and shuffling coming from within.

Minho peered inside to find Changbin, Jisung and Hyunjin inside. The two betas were kneeled on the ground as they pulled out weeds and dead plants from the old soil. Changbin was wiping the windows and getting rid of the cobwebs. Hyunjin was the first to notice the new arrival.

“Hey Min!” Hyunjin smiled but it quickly faded when he noticed the scowl etched into the elders face. “What's wrong?” This caught the attention of the other two, who looked over with worry.

“Nothing. What are you guys doing?” He wanted to take the attention away from him.

“Felix mentioned that Baby wanted to start gardening, so we thought it would be a nice way to surprise her by getting this place cleaned up and ready for her.” Jisung beamed when he mentioned you, clearly excited about their plan.

“Hmm” Minho hummed, walking further into the tiny structure. “That’s very nice of you, Ji.” He patted the top of Jisungs head as if he was rewarding a dog, but Jisung was happy with it either way.

“I’m actually about to head out to the gardening center in town, if you want to join me Min. Then I was gonna meet up with a friend at the Gym. I think it would do you some good to get out of the house for a while, huh?” Chanbin offered, able to tell that Minho needed to get out and let off some steam.

Minho pondered for a second, weighing his options. That sounded better than sitting home and listening to you get railed by Jeongin all day. “Sure, that sounds nice. Let me go get my Gym bag.”

“Awesome. I’ll do the same and meet you by my car in a few minutes.”

Minho just saluted in response and went on his way to grab his stuff. Going up the stairs he could hear your cries and Jeongins moans, making him clench his teeth. Yeah, getting out of the house for the day would definitely do him some good.

All too soon you were awoken by Jeongin. It was the feeling of him scraping his teeth over the curve of your breast that lured you from your nap, the sharpness of his canine catching on your nipple making you jolt awake. You were still laid on your back, with Jeongin once again between your legs and he was leaning on his elbows over you.

“Innie, wha’ are you doin?” You asked groggily, your voice horse from all the previous moaning.

“Shh, omega.” He shushed, attempting to soothe you. “ Started feelin’ needy again, need my sexy omega to make me feel better, yeah?” His lips kissed on your skin, the spit from them leaving a glistening trail. “I’ll be gentle with you this time, promise.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was rutting against you with what was his attempt at delicacy. To be fair, it was much less relentless than the first round. He propped himself up further to rub his dick through your leftover wetness. You whimpered when his tip ran along your folds and caught on your clit.

“Mm, love those little sounds, baby. Think you can make more for me, please baby?” He licked on your flesh behind your ear, suckling there and leaving a deeply flushed mark. You nodded hesitantly, still feeling the tenderness between your thighs. “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good- so special and cared for.”

“It’s cuz I do care about you, Innie, more than I can express.” You lifted your tired arms to wrap over his shoulders, wanting him close. He rolled his hips against you again, this time with a touch more force, listening to the sloshing sound that came from where your bodies met. It was taking everything in him not to slam into you and take you again, but he knew you needed to be cared for right now. The alpha in him still needed to tend to you, even through his grueling rut.

“I know you do, can feel your love radiating off of you. I’ve never felt anything like it from anyone in my entire life, the pure passion that burns in you. Makes me weak, makes me crave you more and more; in a way I’ve never craved anything.” He never stopped his movements, finally finding a pattern that rubbed on you just right. You moaned wantonly and screwed your eyes shut, feeling another dam about to break within you. You just needed a touch more intimacy form him, and you knew you could get there.

“Alpha, please k-kiss me.” You had a tear welling up in your eye, but as soon as it fell down your cheek it was licked up by Jeongins warm tongue. Then he crashed his mouth onto yours, kissing you like it was his job. You tasted the salt from your tears on his lips. The kiss was exactly what you needed, and with a whine into his mouth you came again. You clenched around nothing as you shook.

Your shaking gave the alpha the nudge he needed, following right behind you and cumming on your folds and clit. He shuddered and panted against you as he groaned into your mouth. You stroked his hair as he came down, letting him ride it out for as long as he needed. By this point you were both just panting into each others mouths- not really kissing anymore.

After a few seconds he was able to pull back from you, finally climbing off of you and onto the bed next to you. He looked over at your sweaty form, taking in how fucked out you looked, how debauched he had made you over the last few hours. It made him coo at you and pull you into his embrace from the side. “Come here, sweetheart. Let your alpha hold you.”

You snuggled into him, ignoring the stickiness that settled on your skin and between your thighs. “How are you feeling, Innie?” You asked, kissing his chest.

“Much better for now, baby. All thanks to you.” He purred, making you keen in response. Silence settled over you both for a moment as you just breathed together. He was the one to break it though, “Ya know… I saw you last night.”

“Huh?” You were confused for a second, then it hit you. Last night. When you were getting railed by Chan and Felix in the living room. “You saw that?” You were slightly mortified.

He chuckled nervously, hoping you weren’t upset about it. “I didn’t mean to, but when I walked down the hall I couldn’t help it… I had to see.” He bit his lip, “It kinda set off my rut. I couldn’t get the images of you out of my head. Are you mad?”

You nuzzled into him, sniffling. “M’ sorry, Innie.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who peeped!” He was bewildered by you. “Don’t cry, baby please.”

“You started an early rut because of me. All I do is cause you turmoil. I’m so sorry.”

“That's enough of that. No more crying.” He was exercising his new ability to alpha command you. One might say abusing his power over you, but who's really to say? “ None of it is on you. I’m just so happy to have you here for me, there's no one else I’d rather have lost my v-card too than you, omega.”

You were shocked as you dried your tears, “You mean you were a- a-”

“A virgin, yeah.” He looked sheepish at his admittance. “I guess I hadn’t really been interested in anyone else, maybe it was the romantic in me that was holding out for an omega to love. And looks like I found one, so I can’t be upset.” He winked clumsily.

“I'm just a little surprised. You made me feel.. So good.” Now it was your turn to be shy. You pushed your face into his chest even further as he chuckled.

“I was just following my instincts baby. I'm sorry that I got a little carried away with that first round. We should probably clean those bites before the rut starts to kick my ass again.” He kissed your head and squeezed you. You nodded in agreement and kissed his chest in response.

Changbin and Minho had stopped at the gardening center first. Changbin had a list given to him by Felix full of supplies and seeds that he knew you would need to get started. The two boys had even picked a few things they wanted you to plant, including a baby raspberry bush so Minho could make fresh jams. Then their next stop was Changbins gym that he visited regularly.

When they walked in they were immediately greeted by Changbins new friend. “Hey Bin! Took you long enough!”

“Eh, I would call it fashionably late.” He bro-hugged the beta man, then turned to introduce him to Minho. “Min, this is Wooyoung. He’s in town for the summer, we met at the diner right before we went camping.”

Wooyoung gave Minho a bright smile, showing off his pearly teeth. He stuck out his hand to shake. “What's up, nice to meet you.”

Minho subtly took in Wooyoung. He was slender and had a friendly face. There was a claiming mark etched onto his neck, clearly from an alpha given how deep it is. If Minho didn’t know any better he would say the other beta was generically average. But, Minho could see something hidden in his eyes, something almost sinister.

Still, Changbin had befriended him so he wouldn’t make any assumptions just yet. So he grabbed the outstretched hand and gave a firm shake. “Nice to meet you too.” He didn’t miss the subtle way the other man's nose flared when Minho got closer to him. He made a mental note of it.

Changbin clapped his hands together, “Alright, let's get started. We gotta get you boys into shape. You’re both too scrawny. Weights, chop chop.”

Minho groaned in protest, but it didn’t last long before he was being shoved by Bin, who was laughing at his pack mates displeasure. This time, Min did miss the borderline evil smirk that graced Wooyoung's face as he trailed behind.

A/N: Don't come for me about all the blood in mouths thing... In this universe it's not a harmful thing since they all bite each other :)

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

©doitforbangchan

Taglist- Closed

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mysterycitrus · 5 months

Text

there’s a pattern of behaviour in emergency services wrt police — meaning if emts or firefighters report police misdemeanours or unlawful actions against civilians then police might retaliate by not answering emergency calls from said teams that reported them. this is an established thing, at least among people i know.

reworking nightwing 96’s cop plotline (beloathed) to be dick grayson taking on the role as an emt to investigate a number of suspiciously timed murders and the police who are trying to cover up is a lot more interesting to me than just…. him being a cop. he’s still doing tangible good in bludhaven. he’s able to directly witness how the system has failed the people it’s supposed to protect. it adds an actual, proper investigative element as dick is forced to tactically gather evidence and build alliances. his ability to lead and think rationally during a crisis is a lot more valuable when performing life saving medical care vs kicking down a door with an assault rifle. let him drive an ambulance!!!!

#emt dickie my beloved #dick grayson #dc comics #spokes

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sanguineterrain · 3 months

Note

THE PT2 OF REPORTER! READER AND JASON OH.MY.GOD I LOVEEEED IT could you pleaaase do a pt3? 🙏 i need them to kiss already 😩 maybe someone from the batfam or even roy go to jason's house and be like ??????who are you????? to reader please💕 i love your writing, i hope you have a nice day💖

here it is! hope y'all enjoy :) part 1 | part 2

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. tw: gunshot wounds, injured jason, nightwing cameo, patching up, kissing. almost 2.2k

****

You're being a snoop.

In your defense, you're a reporter with too much time on your hands in the Red Hood's apartment. It's impossible not to snoop.

It's also been four days since you moved in. You kind of feel like a crazy ex, hunting for proof that Hood's cheating on you.

So far, you've found nothing except for a worrying amount of hidden firearms. There's a handgun in the toaster. What the hell.

You've been trying to work on the case, but it's hard to investigate when you're in witness protection. Hood is out right now chasing a lead. He had said not to worry about it, but how can you not? How can you not worry about him?

You glance at the clock. 9:24. Hood was supposed to be home half an hour ago. He said he was chasing a lead. You didn't want him to go alone, but you're also pretty shit at avoiding assassins, so.

You've ordered Chinese food from the select list of restaurants Hood said you can order from. He left a wad of cash for you to use. When you paid, you had a moment's pause.

Is the Red Hood your sugar vigilante?

Hm. Not something you're willing to explore right now.

You chew a nail and pick at a crab rangoon. Hood miraculously (or, maybe not so much, considering his stalker tendencies) chose your favorite Chinese restaurant. Usually, you'd have gobbled up your dinner by now. But you can't stop looking at the clock.

The floorboards in the hall creak. You're up instantly, and you go to the door. You wait for Hood's confirmation text that it's him outside. It doesn't come.

There's hushed voices. You run back to the toaster and grab the gun. You have no idea how to use it, but it can't be that hard, right? Point and shoot?

The door opens. You aim the gun. Right in Nightwing's face.

"Whoa," he says, lifting his free arm. His other holds up Hood, who's bleeding from his shoulder and thigh. Holy fuck.

"Safety's on, smarty," Hood slurs, more than a little out of it. "We gotta fix y'posture."

"Oh my God," you say, dropping the gun and racing to help Hood.

Nightwing takes a step back. Hood grunts as he's dragged along.

"Uh, who are you?" Nightwing asks.

"Gotham Gazette," you say on instinct.

"They're w'me," Hood mumbles. "Pu' me down, Wing."

"Why do you have a civilian in your apartment?" Nightwing asks, helping Hood onto the couch.

You run into your bedroom and return with two pillows to support Hood's head.

"You got shot?" you ask, voice going high. "What the actual fuck, Red?!"

"Hood, why do you have a civilian in your apartment?"

Hood groans. "Can we save questions for th'end?"

"Jesus," Nightwing says. "You're ridiculous."

"That's what I said," you grumble, removing Hood's equipment.

"Great. There's two 'f ya. This is why I didn't wanna come here," Hood says. "My reporter gets nervous, Dickface."

"You coming home shot would make any reasonable person nervous, you jerk," you say, scowling.

"Oh my God," you whisper. "God, Red, what did you—"

You peel back Hood's jacket. His undershirt is sticky with blood and singed skin. Your first real, live gunshot wound.

"Wing's got it, sweet," Hood says. "Go on, y'don't gotta see this. 'S gross, I know."

"I'm not going anywhere," you say firmly. You look at Nightwing. "Do you have a problem with me being here?"

"Well, a civilian shouldn't—"

"Good. What do you need from me?"

"Go have a cup'a tea," Hood says.

You glare. "I wasn't talking to you, Helmet Boy."

"Ever hear'a bedside manner?"

"No. Hence why I'm a reporter."

Hood slumps against the couch. That worries you more—if he doesn't have the energy to fight back, his injuries must be bad.

Anxiously, you look at Nightwing. He presses his lips together and then makes a decision.

"Okay. I need hot water and the first aid kit under the microwave."

You nod. "Got it."

You fetch his requests and return. Nightwing gets to work on Hood's thigh first. You hover, finally settling near Hood's head. He's in his undershirt, his tactical pants, and his boots. You touch the side of his helmet. He turns his head to you.

"Didn't I tell ya t'beat it?" he asks.

"Can't get rid of me that easily." You look at Nightwing. "Is it bad?"

"His thigh isn't bad. Bullet missed anything major and went clean through. I'm just patching him up. Gave him some painkillers. Gonna be a bit before they kick in."

You watch Nightwing pull a needle through Hood's skin for half a second before you turn away. Hood grunts.

"Don't gotta stay," he says quietly. "Lotta blood."

"You're hurt," you say. You don't know what else to say, how to put your urgency into words. Physically, you can't leave Hood's side.

"'M tough," he mumbles. "Toughest guy on the block."

"Dumbest too," Nightwing says, cutting the thread.

"Look who's talkin'."

Their dynamic is odd. Not what you expected, considering how empty the outside of Hood's fridge is. You couldn't find any other photos of friends or family.

"Alright." Nightwing sighs and shifts over. "Now the shoulder. Hood, did it go through?"

"'Fraid not, Blue. Gonna hafta deep dive."

You make a weak noise in your throat. Nightwing pinches Hood's side. Hood winces.

"No, no. I was jokin'. Stupid joke. Sorry."

"I should've never let you go out alone," you say.

"Let me? 'M a stubborn man. Even the Bat can't make me do shit."

"Understatement of the century," Nightwing says, studying the wounds. "You're gonna need to take off your helmet for this one."

They both look at you. You puff up.

"I'm not—"

"Look," Nightwing says gently. "I know you're—"

"Blindfold! You can blindfold me." You get up and look around. "What can we use for a..."

"I think I have a black tie in the top middle drawer," Hood says.

You race to his room and race back with the tie. It smells like the same lavender detergent as your sheets. Nightwing and Hood are whispering when you return; they stop talking as soon as you enter. You pretend not to notice.

"'Kay. Nightwing?" You hand him the tie. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Weirdest patching up I've ever done," Nightwing says.

"I've had weirder," Hood says.

Nightwing ties the tie around your head. "Okay?"

You nod. "Good."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Hood asks.

You roll your eyes. "I don't know, Red."

"Don' roll ya eyes a'me."

You raise your brows. "How did you—"

"Magic. Do it, Wing."

There's some rustling, a click, and then you can hear Hood's breathing, just like you did a few nights ago.

"This is gonna hurt," Nightwing warns.

Hood hums. "Nothing I can't handle."

The sound of a bullet being dug out of flesh is one you never want to hear again. Hood's strangled groan is a million times worse.

"Almost done, Little Wing," Nightwing whispers. "I'm sorry. Almost done."

"Red?" You inch forward, searching for his hand. He takes it and squeezes.

"'M fi–ine," he says, sounding very much not fine. "Ah, shit. Ha-hate shoulder wounds."

You move closer, cradling his whole arm. Hood grunts. He strokes your knuckles with his thumb.

"'S okay," he says. "'M okay."

His breathing returns to normal after several minutes. You hold his hand the entire time. There's some rustling, and you hear Nightwing stand.

"He'll be okay. He just needs to rest."

"What can I do?" you ask, blindfold still on.

"Well—"

"Nothin'," Hood says. "I'm peachy. Just needa sleep it off."

You whip your head around. "You got shot!"

"Not my first bullet and won't be my last. Here, lemme put on my helmet—"

"Hood, no! My God, you're insane."

"You're realizing this now?" he asks. "'S fine, I can do it—"

"Okay!" Nightwing says loudly. "I'm gonna go. It was nice to meet you. I'm glad Hood has a..."

"Reporter," Hood finishes.

"...Right. A reporter who... cares so much about him. Uh-huh."

It's quiet for a moment. You know they're having a conversation, but you can't see them.

"Don't tell B," Hood says.

Nightwing laughs. "Oh, you're in the shit. A reporter in your apartment and two bullet wounds? You owe me big."

"We're working a case together, and I'm not trying to expose Hood," you say. "I don't even care who you two are."

That is a lie, but whatever. Vigilantes are a paranoid breed. You can relate.

Nightwing sighs. "Alright, okay. I won't say anything. Make sure he doesn't bleed out. If anything changes, call me on his phone."

"I will. Thank you for helping him."

"What I'm here for," Nightwing says, and he sounds like he means it. "Hood?"

"'M fine, Wing. Go home to your girl."

"Ahem. Right. Good night."

The window creaks and then it's just you and Hood. You make yourself comfortable on the floor next to the couch, blindfold still on. You don't mind the dark. Touching Hood, you feel safe.

"Red?"

"Hmm?"

"Oh. Thought you were asleep."

"No, but Wing's lecture had me gettin' there." He squeezes your hand. "Y'okay?"

"Yes."

You lace your fingers together. Hood's hand is cold. You hold it close and try to warm it up.

"Take that off," he says. "I'll put the helmet on."

"Don't be an idiot. You'll jostle your stitches."

"Bossy, bossy..."

You sigh. "Red, whatever you did tonight—"

"Y'know I won't let anything happen to you, right?" he says. "Right?"

"What if you'd died tonight, Hood?"

You eyes are damp. He squeezes your hand again.

"I wouldn't. Not goin' anywhere."

"You have no control over that, and making such promises is outrageous. Why wouldn't you get proper medical attention?" you ask.

"'Cause that requires Batman, and he and I had a tiff."

"A tiff."

"Mmhm."

It sounds like more than that, but you drop it.

"Red, I was so worried."

"Smarty, th' others would take care of ya if anything hap—"

"I was worried about you! I was worried you weren't coming back, Red."

Silence.

"I... I care about you. I mean, yeah, I care about the case, and I wanna bring in the bad guys, but shit, Red. Not at your expense."

He lets go of your hand. Then, a finger dances across your cheek. You gasp.

"Y'really trust me, huh?" he asks quietly.

"Of course." You swallow. "Hood, of course I trust you."

"Shit." A thumb on your lip. "Shit, smarty pie. Why y'trust me so easy?"

His accent is thick with exhaustion. You love it.

"You have a nice voice," you say unthinkingly.

"Goddamnit." He huffs. "You gotta go t'bed, sweetheart."

Your heart pounds. "Why?"

"'Cause otherwise I'm gonna kiss ya. And this whole thing is gonna go t'shit. And you're my favorite reporter."

You lean in. "Red—"

"No." He catches your cheek with his hand. "Bad reporter. Breach a' ethics."

"I'll let you," you say. "Do it, I won't stop you."

"This is the adrenaline talkin'. You were scared, that's why."

You shake your head. You've never been more sure of anything. But you have to make sure that he's sure.

You grab his wrist. "Are you thinking clearly? Are you high?"

"Wing gave me one painkiller, sweet. Takes at least three t'knock me out."

And that weighs you down for a moment, remembering that Hood isn't what you thought he was. He isn't a villain. He's a man who's known unfathomable amounts of pain. He's a man who's killed men. Who'd kill for you.

A man made of flesh and blood and scars and dark curls and a warm, warm neck and... and...

"Shit," Hood says.

And then he kisses you. For a second. Then he pulls back.

"Sorry," he whispers against your mouth. "Sorry, I—"

"No."

You pull him back, cupping the back of his neck. He makes a tiny noise. You start to speak, to worry, but Hood keeps you still with a hand on your arm.

His mouth is hot, a little uncoordinated, but sweet all the same. You're careful to follow his lead. His lips are chapped. He has a little scruff; you stroke his face. It suits him. Anything would.

You cannot turn away from this. From him. That is certain.

You pull away for breath and so you don't undo Nightwing's hard work. You listen to Hood's harsh breathing, pleased that you're the reason for it.

"Wait," he says. "Wait, l-lemme—"

Hood starts to pull off your blindfold. You grab it instantly.

"Red, no. Don't show me just because we kissed."

"But y'don't-don't even know what I look like. How d'you know I'm somebody y'wanna kiss?"

"Because I do. And I will kiss you in the dark for as long as you want me to. Don't do it just because you're afraid of losing me otherwise."

He draws circles on your cheek with his thumb. "Trusting me like that 's crazier than anything I've done, smarty."

"Well, don't we make quite the pair?"

"What, crazy?"

You smile. "I was thinking brave. But it is a fine line."

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd x you #jason todd x yn #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd x gender neutral reader #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #dc fanfiction #dc imagine #inbox #blurb

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martyrlamb · 11 months

Text

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer.

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently.

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on.

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night.

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder.

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot.

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air.

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm.

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather.

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh.

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn��t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side.

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot.

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job.

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles.

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you.

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors.

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either.

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency.

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home.

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something.

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it.

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him.

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly.

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that.

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes.

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts.

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him.

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word.

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came.

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals.

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow.

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone.

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed.

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.”

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold.

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?”

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back.

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew.

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort.

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious? You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again.

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag.

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it.

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes.

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath.

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like.

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over.

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic.

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention.

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on.

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all.

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face.

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

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