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mydearzero · 9 months

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Prey | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

PART 2

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You were determined to stay collected and have your professor make the first move. To make him believe he's the one desperate for you. He's onto you though. He knows what you want, what you need. And he's going to give it to you.

Warnings: Professor!Spencer, fem!Reader, Teacher/student relationship, age gap, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), NO Y/N, fingering, praise kink, degradation, dacryphilia, humiliation, semi-public sex, rough sex, creampie, choking, aftercare. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.9K words

Criminology wasn't the first class you'd voluntarily take. It was interesting enough, really. But not at all necessary for your degree.

You loved true crime as much as the next college-aged girl. That's what your excuse would be, at least, when people would inevitably ask why the hell you signed up for the class. But the real reason?

You'd seen him on campus a couple times, only a semester ago. His jagged yet put-together exterior intrigued you. His eyes met yours, if only for a split second. He was perceptive. Very perceptive.

The third time you saw him meeting with the dean, you knew you were hooked. You felt yourself mouth the syllables of his name. Heard the sound falling off your lips in a whispered tone as you overheard him introduce himself to the Criminal Law professor.

Doctor Spencer Reid.

You'd done your research, as any self-respecting student would. He was an FBI agent working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was a proper genius with several degrees under his belt, even when he was your age.

He wasn't anymore, your age.

A notice got posted on the college's website a few days after your last sighting. Doctor Spencer Reid of the FBI would teach several seminars this semester, with voluntary attendance and limited availability.

You signed up in a heartbeat. You told yourself it was because he was an enigma, a puzzle for you to solve. His posture, eyes and even how he spoke screamed 'Solve me!' You, someone notorious for your ability to read people, couldn't figure him out. It frustrated you. Everything about him invited you to try and peel back the layers to let you see inside.

Were you maybe a tad too obsessed with the man without ever having spoken to him? Obviously, but you couldn't help yourself. You loved a good mystery. And this was one gorgeous mystery.

You tried to be deliberate about everything when you entered the first seminar. Don't spare the professor a second glance, but be genuinely interested. Don't hang off every word falling from his lips but raise your hand often enough to appear engaged. You wanted him to be the one to notice you first, even if it was anything but the truth.

But Professor Reid was a professor in his field for a good reason. He caught your calculated gaze a few times. Watched as you schooled your expression to perfection. Spencer had to admit, you were good. But he was better. He noticed how your stare dropped to his hands as he moved them while speaking. Noticed how the pattern of your breathing was unnatural. If his hearing was superhuman, he would've heard your heart beat irregularly.

You could seek control of the situation as much as you wanted, but your body would betray you time and time again. Spencer thrived in this little cat-and-mouse game you'd tried to set him up for. He knew you'd convinced yourself you were the cat, calculated, ready to pounce. He smiled to himself at the comparison. If only you knew you were the mouse in this situation, insignificant and small under his watchful eye. Something for him to feast on.

He'd seen you that day; the first time he was on campus. Captured your observant eye with amusement simmering in his mind. He knew who you were, and why you were here, the second you walked into the classroom. You'd tried to appear confident, sure of yourself, by walking to a spot near the front without sparing anybody around you a second glance. But Spencer saw it for what it was. A nervous but powerful stride of a girl begging for a grain of validation.

It had been brought to his attention that several girls in the class were only auditing, but not you. You were here for the real deal. You were committed to figuring him out. He could see it in the way your eyes raked over his body, reading his body language with every syllable spoken. You were genuinely interested in the subject matter, even if it was only to listen to him explain it.

He was flattered, really. Although your interest in the professor might've started as superficial as the other girls', he could see himself in the way you lost yourself in the infatuation. It wasn't just his looks that pulled you into his orbit. You were intrinsically aware of the grief, trauma and heartache he'd built up over the years. You were dying to be a part of the gravity that shaped him.

He could see how you had the power to mould people when you had your claws in them. Though, he wasn't sure it was a conscious ability you possessed. Maybe it was just who you were. You had a need for control in every sense of the word. And God, did he want to take it away from you.

If he didn't know any better, he'd be afraid you'd commit a string of murders if only it meant he would have to read into it. Consider every detail of the crime scene so he'd have to figure you out. It was admirable; your passion for complete dominance. But you couldn't fool Spencer.

He saw the way you crossed your arms, bit the skin on your lips until they bled, and picked at the skin around your nails, not quite bringing them up to your mouth to bite them, knowing it would convey insecurity. You were an insecure little girl, convincing yourself of the opposite.

Your need to understand him and domineer every situation was likely a defence mechanism, but he couldn't judge. Not when your little game got him right where you wanted him. Spencer had to applaud your dedication. The anticipation kept him on his toes every time he set foot on campus. He knew you wanted him to break, to make the first move, and he just might have to if he wanted to rid himself of the everlasting tension that seemed to have taken over his body.

Fine. Spencer would play your little game if that's what you wanted.

He saw you getting more confident, convinced he was falling into your trap the second he gave in. How the corners of your lips curled up ever so slightly when his gaze lingered on them. You were so caught up in your success that you failed to notice every action was premeditated on his part. It was only inevitable your eyes would light up with glee and triumph when he requested you to meet him in his office after class.

You knocked on his door tentatively, trying to slow your racing heart.

"Come in." Spencer's voice carried through the door. You turned the handle and stepped inside the dimly lit office.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?" You spoke as your hand lingered on the door, a calculated move to come across as unsure. It was a complete 180 of your usual behaviour in class, but it was a surefire way to let him let you in. You were no threat.

If only you knew how true that was.

"Yes, close the door and have a seat, please." Spencer motioned to the chair across from him. You nodded and closed the door quietly before pulling the chair out and sitting down.

"I would like to discuss your paper with you if you don't mind." Spencer held up the printed copy he insisted everybody hand in. You scoffed when you read the specifications of the assignment. Figures he'd be old school.

"That's fine. Is there something wrong, Professor?" You batted your eyelashes the way you knew no man could resist. The act of the meek, helpless deer.

"There's nothing wrong with it, necessarily. I would simply like to discuss the subject matter with you. You sure picked an interesting topic." Spencer leaned against the back of his chair and interlocked his fingers as he saw you smile.

"What can I say? Your job intrigued me. Though, as I'm sure you could tell from my essay, I can't say I completely agree with the logic behind it." You gave him a small smile to let him know you weren't antagonising but stood behind your choices.

"Some critiques definitely can be taken into account. But it's been proven time and time again, with every case we solve through behavioural analysis, that the science and logic behind it work. Sure, we can be wrong, even way off. But it's a rare occasion." His eyebrows raised in challenge as he spoke. A small smile threatened to appear on his face as he awaited your answer.

You squinted at his apparent amusement. He wasn't taking you seriously. He knew he'd cracked you when your facade dropped. You looked genuinely offended at his lack of interest in your opinion. He almost wanted to laugh at how easy it turned out to be, to get you to drop the act.

"Don't look so smug, Professor. It's not a good look on you." You jabbed. You cursed at yourself. That wasn't an argument. You crossed your arms as you leaned back in the chair, never breaking eye contact.

"I must say, I'm kind of disappointed in you. You seemed to have a great grasp on the subject matter while in class, yet you failed one of the biggest requirements of the assignment."

You frowned at his words, genuinely confused. You egged him to continue talking.

"You see, the main requirement was to stay objective. This essay was anything but. I guess I misjudged you. I assumed you were above letting your personal opinions and vendettas get in the way of your academics. Apparently not." Spencer tsked. He was taunting you.

"How was my essay subjective?" You asked. The more you thought back to it, the more you realized how tainted the words on the pages in his hands were by your disdain for your attraction to him.

You hated him for making you feel the way you did, and you hadn't even realized it until now.

"I expected factual work. The only fact I can get from this essay is that you're driving yourself crazy with how much you want me to fuck you."

You gaped at his vulgar words.

Hook.

"Don't look so scandalized. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for my class. You made your bed. Now lie in it." Spencer leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, crossing his fingers once again.

"I think you're full of shit, Spencer Reid." You sneered.

Line.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart. And it's Doctor or Professor. I'm not picky." He had the gall to laugh.

"Profile me then, professor. If you're so damn sure of yourself." You rolled your eyes but looked at him expectantly.

Sinker.

"Stand up, lock the door." He instructed. You did as he asked with no rebuttal. He raised from his chair and walked around the desk. You followed him closely with your eyes, unable to predict his next steps.

He placed a singular finger under your chin and lifted it to make you look up at him. "Good girl." He whispered with intent. You tried to give no outward reaction to the words, but as Spencer had come to predict, your body betrayed you. Goosebumps raced down your crossed arms, and your breathing hitched, even if only slightly.

You didn't break eye contact, to Spencer's amusement. You really should've known better.

"You want me to profile you? Sure. In your essay, you kept mentioning speculation. But, you see, it's not speculation. It's deduction. You would've known and been able to differentiate the two if you weren't so busy rubbing your thighs and biting your lips in my class." His words were accompanied by his thumb coming up to your mouth, running it over the chewed-up skin of your bottom lip.

"You want to know what else I deduced just now?" He didn't wait for your reply as he brought his face closer to yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"I think you like being called a good girl. But not because of the validation... No... It's the implication that turns you on." His breath scalded the delicate skin of your neck as he spoke.

You urged him to continue with your silence, breath stuck in your throat.

"You see, most girls like you like being called a good girl because they lack external male validation. They're desperate to hear those words from anyone. Not you, though... No..." Spencer laughed before continuing.

"You like it because it implies a level of authority. You love hearing it, especially from me, because it implies that I have the authority to decide for you what you are. And you wanna know what I think?" He leaned back a little to be able to look you in your wide eyes. He traced his finger over your jaw.

"I think you're a little whore. You don't want someone to validate you. You need someone to completely dominate you." He grabbed your chin forcefully. A soft whimper left your lips before you could stop it.

"Your pupils are dilated, your skin is flushed, and you're barely breathing. That's how I know I'm right. And I'm not speculating, darling." The alarmed look you gave him did nothing to deter him.

"Get on your knees." He demanded as he let go of your chin. You did so without question. You looked up at him expectantly, heart beating in your throat.

"Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up. Though, I can think of other ways. You're going to address me as 'Sir' from now on. You won't speak unless spoken to. Am I clear?"

You nodded quickly, spreading your legs to alleviate the pressure quickly building. Spencer raised an eyebrow before putting his shoe between your thighs, putting even more pressure than before.

"I asked. Am. I. Clear?"

"Yes!" You yelped. A smile that could only be described as devilish made itself apparent on your professor's face.

"Yes, what?" He asked as he pushed the point of his shoe further between your thighs.

"Yes, Sir." You all but moaned as you tried to hold yourself up, keeping your back as straight as it would allow you.

"Good girl." He said the riveting words.

You expected him to pull his pants down and force your mouth on him, but he did no such thing.

"You're gonna make yourself cum on my shoe. You better not make any noise." He instructed.

"Yes, Sir." You mumbled as you slowly started grinding against him. You felt your cheeks get redder and redder in embarrassment. You were mortified at the realization that the humiliated feeling only added to the ease of your grinding, getting wetter and wetter. Your underwear was no longer doing much to keep his shoe clean.

You looked up at Spencer, who looked unaffected. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as if the current situation was nothing but an inconvenience to him. You slowly put your arms around his leg as you moved closer to him.

Soft whines left your mouth as you felt yourself getting closer. You'd never felt as conflicted before. So incredibly turned on, yet so embarrassed to be basically humping his leg.

Suddenly, Spencer ripped his leg away. You lost your support and fell flat on the floor in front of his feet. "That's enough."

"I thought you said I had to make myself cum, Sir?" You could hear you sounded as desperate as you probably looked.

"And I decided I'm not going to let you. Now, who said you could speak?" You quickly closed your mouth. "That's what I thought."

He gripped your upper arm harshly and hoisted you off the floor. You dared to peek at the shoe that had just now been your seat and were embarrassed to find it reflecting the light, unlike its matte counterpart.

Your legs wobbled as Spencer guided you to his desk. It was only now you realized the shutters weren't completely shut, light from the hallway shining down on your face as he pushed it down against the mahogany when he bent you over at the waist. Spencer followed your gaze.

"I guess you'll really have to be quiet, baby. My office hours start in less than an hour." You met his eyes with your own panicked ones. Anybody who did as much as try and look inside past the shutters would see you bent over his desk. He brushed your hair out of your face before flipping your skirt up and examining the sight before him.

"You soaked right through those panties of yours. Better take 'em off." He said as he hooked his fingers under them and pulled them down. You stepped out of them to the best of your ability.

Spencer picked them up, and gave them a short whiff, before walking around his desk. You didn't dare move but followed him with your eyes, confused. He looked at you as he unlocked a drawer, put them inside, and locked it again. You weren't getting those back.

He walked back around and admired the sight for a little before he unexpectantly gave your ass a harsh smack. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt yourself get wetter at the stinging sensation it left behind.

You jumped as he pushed two fingers inside without preparation. He placed his other hand on your back to push you back down against the desk. His eyes were warning you to stay still as he moved his finger expertly inside you. He brought his thumb to your clit, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. The circumstances from before had ensured you were nearing the edge concerningly fast.

When Spencer sped up, you brought a hand to your mouth to muffle any noise. You felt your eyes tear up at the intensity of the sensation, so you squeezed them closed. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, Spencer stepped away. His weight against you was what was keeping you up. You felt your knees buckle as a desperate cry left your lips.

"Please, Spencer. Please."

He looked furious as he grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and pushing you back on the desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He pushed your shirt up, exposing more skin to him. He tugged your bra down, not bothering to unclasp it. He tugged roughly at your nipples, making you keen, and the tears finally spill from your eyes.

"Not so tough now, huh?" He mumbled as he undid his belt with one hand. The other was still pawing at your crudely exposed breasts. He didn't bother properly pulling his pants down, only taking his cock out of its confines. You imagined you looked downright filthy compared to how composed the man in front of you still managed to appear. There was a stain on his pants from where your crotch had met his, but other than that, he was pristine.

He gave his cock a few tugs before lining himself up, grabbing your thighs and pushing inside. You couldn't contain the guttural groan that escaped you as the strength of his thrust forced your head off the desk, hanging over the edge. He didn't care as he started pounding away, using his grip on your thighs as leverage.

You could barely breathe, the angle of your neck not allowing much air to flow. Your ears started to ring as blood pooled in your head, making you dizzy as Spencer kept his brutal pace. You tried gripping his arms to pull yourself back up before you passed out, but hardly to any avail. Spencer noticed your struggle and pulled your head back on the desk. The blood rushing back down, along with a particularly harsh thrust, had you moaning his name.

You heard his haggard breath as he continued filling you again and again. The sensation of him inside you drove you crazy, the tears from earlier still fresh on your cheeks. Low groans fell from Spencer's lips when one of his hands moved to your clit, rubbing rough circles.

Just as you'd recovered from your little upside-down stint, Spencer brought the hand still resting on your thigh up to your throat, reclaiming your ability to breathe freely. He squeezed in the exact right spot. Your hands moved to his wrist, not to get him to stop, but as leverage.

"You look so good like this, like a slut for your Professor. Crying on my cock while I decide if you get to breathe." You moaned as your nails dug harshly into his wrist. You were slowly getting lightheaded again.

"You're gonna cum on my cock when I tell you to." He spoke through the sound of skin hitting skin. His voice was strained, low moans reaching your ears.

"Yes, Sir." You struggled to get the words out.

"Good girl," Spencer said once more, giving a few more intentional thrusts deep inside you. A noise that could only be classified as a scream bubbles straight out of your chest when he hit the right spot over and over and over again. He finally released the hold on your neck.

"Cum." The demand had barely reached your ears as your vision went white. You felt his hips stutter against your own, shooting his load in tandem with your own orgasm.

He slowly pulled out and admired the sight of you still trying to recover, legs wide open, dripping with his cum on his desk.

You were on the edge of hyperventilating, all the sensations overwhelming you. Spencer slowly helped you sit up, careful to not let your privates touch the harsh wood of the desk. You let yourself fall against his chest as he held you up.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. Come on, look at me." He spoke softly, in complete contrast to just mere minutes ago. You met his eyes, which had softened tremendously.

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh on you." He quietly apologized, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks.

You shook your head. "No, no... You were right. That was exactly what I needed, I suppose. Good profiler." You chuckled emptily.

Spencer stifled a laugh as he wrapped his arms around you. "Next time, you can just ask for what you want, okay? No more of this little game."

"It was fun, though. Guess I underestimated you, Sir."

Spencer groaned at the title.

"Too soon, baby girl. Maybe clean yourself up before going there again."

You winced as you felt a trickle of his cum down your leg.

"Yeah, maybe." You grimaced. You were going to be sore for the next week.

He lifted your face to his, the action feeling a lot less domineering. His eyes were gentle as he slowly leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on your lips.

"You'll still need to rewrite that essay." He muttered as he pulled away.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly before giving him a peck. "Sure thing, Professor."

PART 2

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

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Dressing for revenge [K. B]

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

word count: 7k

summary: when Kaz and his crows return from Ravka they run into trouble, and to solve it, he looks for a childhood friend who is too resentful and too in love with him

warnings: trauma, PTSD, spoilers for S&B season 2, no physical contact, here Kaz has no romantic feelings for Inej

A/N: I LOVE Kanej, but I wanted to write something with Kazzle Dazzle because I love him too, lol. I hope you like it!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @rustyyyyspoonz

The rumor had already spread throughout the Barrel: “Kaz Brekker and his crows are back” How long had it been since they had embarked into the Fold? Just a couple of months? They had felt like years, if you were being honest.

If it was true that they were back, you felt sorry for the trouble they were going to run into. The change of ownership of their club, the strengthening of the other gangs, and mainly the fact that they were being tried for murder thanks to the fact that Pekka Rollins had awarded it to them... all these problems were going to fall on them like a bucket of water cold. It had already fallen on them, in fact, since the rumor was accompanied that they had escaped from the stadwatch once they were captured.

You didn't know how much of what everyone was saying was true and how much was false, trying to stay as calm as possible when the name Kaz came from someone's lips for fear that Pekka had some magical ability and could read your mind or sense the fear in your eyes every time you met him. Afraid of him and afraid of what he might do to you if he knew you knew the black-haired man.

Things had changed a lot since the last time you saw the boy and that was more than noticeable. Your story goes back long before he made his reputation when you were just a couple of neighbor kids playing on the farms. You two arrived in Ketterdam together, with nothing but hopes for a better future and Jordie as your protector (or an attempt at that, at least), after your father and Mr. Rietveld died in the same accident, reuniting with Kaz’s mother and later to be matched by your mother, who had died of sadness, if that was possible. Three helpless children thrown into the cruel world were what came of that and the rest is history.

Crime, robbery, gangs, and a life of hardship were what you had to adjust to as a child, but you doubted very much that a single person living in The Barrel would be in a different situation. You weren't fully involved in the disgraced jobs of the majority, but if there was one true thing, it was that when it came to obtaining information you were, to say the least, excellent. You and Kaz had to fend for yourselves, and you learned what you could from the streets. In this way he and you became a team, so to speak, for a few teenage years, and for that period of your lives having each other was the only thing in the world. Over time he became ruthless, rude, a great fighter and earned the nickname 'dirtyhands' thanks to his gambling skills, from which he obtained most of the things you had. You learned to move quickly, to go unnoticed, and to defend yourself from those who tried to harm you, always supporting the boy’s plans.

Less than a year was enough for his name to become known and he began to think big. Sometimes he would tell you about the plans he had: to run Fifth Harbor, to establish the crow club, to become the best of The Barrel. All of that sounded like crazy ideas at first, but looking back you realized that he had accomplished too much in that pit for your relatively young age.

You never knew what made you and Kaz go their separate ways, but somehow it had happened. It was gradual, maybe that's why it was hard for you to notice, but one day you woke up and realized the distance that existed between him, who previously was practically the only family you knew, and you. It didn't take much for him to decide to break the bond that had held you together from a very early age; he never gave reasons for this and you never asked him.

You lived under some protection from the leader of The Crows, of course, but very few people could link you to The Bastard of the Barrel. Sometimes you still provided him with information, but when he found someone else, the inquiries became less and less frequent until one day they turned into none. You managed to eat and have a roof over your head pretty well (and mostly honestly) and you tried to stay out of trouble for a long time.

Until one day he flew away from Ketterdam without warning and order in the Barrel was disturbed in every possible way. With his team gone, it didn't take long for Pekka to seize control and anyone who didn't work for him was inevitably against him. It was only a matter of time before he found out the talent you had tried to hide and forced you to carry his lion shield... figuratively speaking.

If he ever knew that you used to work with Kaz he never mentioned it or maybe your relationship with him had been severed so long that no one remembered it anymore. Now you were just a little girl, as he used to call you, slippery enough that she seemed so harmless that, in his eyes, that became a benefit. You were never one to look rude, unfortunately for you, and that allowed men like him to feel entitled to take advantage of you. You thanked the saints that Rollins didn't find you attractive or who knows what other services he would have requested from you. It was always better to provide him with the information he needed than for him to force you to be his lover.

You weren't a part of the meetings that the Dime Lions had and you weren't considered a member either, which kept you calm every night. You were just another piece in the enormous chess game that Pekka moved at his convenience, the same game that was threatened by the mere existence of Kaz Brekker and much more so now that he had returned.

In the middle of the night it was logical to ask yourself, what kind of strange plans would he have in mind now?

One, two, and three knocks surprised you at the rickety wooden door and made you jump out of your chair, where you were already asleep. An old lamp was on the even older table and it illuminated the little space that your provisional home had so you took it to approach to open the door. It was raining outside (quite unusual for that time of year) and by the time it was you figured it was one of Rollins' idiots coming to do a job for you. What would he want now? Harbor information? Talk to a policeman? He was supposed to control everything, sometimes you kept wondering why he asked for your help.

When you opened the door, the air slipped in and almost extinguished the flame of the fire, but the temperature of the night wasn’t what left you freezing, but the presence that was in front of you. With his hat, a completely black outfit, and his cane in hand, but above all soaked from head to toe, there was him; Kaz. You almost feared you were imagining it, but you knew it was him by the clear, penetrating eyes that were watching you, even though you admitted that he had changed so much that in other circumstances you would have had trouble recognizing him.

“Did I arrive at a bad time?” he asked. No warm greetings, no smiles, no explanations. Just a cold, serious question, just the way he was.

“Someone followed you? If this place is horrible by itself, I don't want blood staining the floor” you replied with the same tone. You wanted to tell him that you had missed him, ask him if he was okay, and give him a huge hug, but those actions should be reserved for your nocturnal fantasies, because as soon as you took a step forward he would be able to hit you with his cane. Or at least that's what the Kaz you knew would do, but you doubted very much that the passing of the years would have softened his heart.

"Nobody followed me" was all he said and you stepped aside at the door so he could go inside. Even with his words, you felt the need to look out on both sides of the street in search of someone, but with the level of rain, you doubted very much that someone would want to stay and spy because he would probably die of pneumonia.

When you closed the door and turned around he didn't say anything, he just stood in front of you while the water drained from his coat. During that moment of silence, you allowed yourself to admire it under the warm light of the candle; his eyes definitely hadn't changed one bit, but now there was a tinge of contempt more noticeable than before. His features had hardened and he was thinner, barely resembling the boy you remembered, perhaps as a reminder of just that... that he was now a man.

“So the rumors are true…” you started to say “You are back”

"I think that's more than obvious," he exclaimed. For a second you forgot that it was he who had knocked on your door and you felt uncomfortable as if you were an intruder who had to get out of there.

There was silence again and you two just looked at each other. Kaz had made his own mental list of changes he noticed in you and was reflecting on when was the last time he had looked at you in such detail. You were wearing light clothes, because before he arrived you were about to go to sleep, and your face, although as childish as always, looked more tired than before. You had also cut your hair, which was messy around your shoulders and a bit darker in tone.

“And may I know to what I owe your visit? I guess you don't want to have tea” you said to break the silence. The dryness of your words in a certain way was to protect yourself because you never knew how much a sharp tongue like his could hurt you.

"I'm in a job and I need people"

Of course it was going to be due to a job, and of course that was why he had sought you out after so many years. A part of you, tremendously stupid, to tell you the truth, was hoping that during the time your friend was away from Ketterdam some divine clarity would have illuminated him so that he would realize that he had to look for you to repair your relationship and offer at least apologies. But you would have to pay him every kruge in the country for him to do something like that.

"I'm glad you considered me, but I'm sorry I have to decline."

"Why?" he asked immediately, his raspy voice showing annoyance at the refusal.

“Because it happens that you can’t work for opposing sides. At least not at the same time” you replied. Maybe it was due to fatigue, but you swore you saw a slight look of surprise on the man's face when you answered that. Most likely, he had assumed that you would be one of the few people who wouldn’t be on Pekka’s side and therefore a safe option.

“Do you work for Pekka?” he muttered. You knew him well enough to know that he was hurt, you could see it in his posture, in his voice, and especially in his look “After all he did to us?”

"And what did you want him to do?" you said, trying to ignore the fact that he had spoken in the plural. Us “You practically handed us over to him. My options were that or receive a bullet in the forehead."

"I didn’t hand you over to anyone"

"You abandoned us and left us in his hands, it's the same thing" you replied, shrugging. There was so much resentment and pain from never-closed wounds floating in the air that it was hard for him and you to think clearly. “Your vacation in Ravka may have been nice, but things only just went to hell here. So don't you dare judge me by the choices I made” you exclaimed defensively.

You didn't imagine that your first conversation with him after so long would be like this, but unfortunately, things never turned out the way you expected. After all, they were a crook and a spy talking in the dead of night.

"You could get information from him more easily," Kaz concluded, shrugging the same way you did. "And so we sink him from the inside."

"And risk him finding out and killing me?"

“You know that would never happen,” he said firmly “The thing about killing you. I wouldn't allow him” his eyes stared at you almost offended by the lack of trust you had towards him. There was silence for the third time and this time your gaze moved away to focus on anything but him.

"Plus you have this girl you took out of The Menagerie, don't you?" you said in your defense. The one you replaced me with, you wanted to add, but held back "So I don't know what you might need me for"

"With so many problems going on, I thought it would be better to have as many alliances as possible," he explained to you. You continued without looking at him, with your head still full of worries and sorrows, and when he didn’t receive an answer, he spoke again "You know that it is your best option"

"I don't know that, but I do know that I would have liked you to at least ask how I am before asking me to join the team you never wanted me in and from which you separated me as soon as you had the chance" you exhaled, in an attempt to lighten the weight on your chest.

It was no secret that you had always felt betrayed by Kaz’s treatment of you, even though he treated dozens of others the same way, because you somehow thought that your backstory was enough to deserve at least the sympathy or some consideration on the part of the crow. And of course you wanted to run from Pekka's clutches and plunge him into the deepest muck, but the resentment for what you considered your friend’s abandonment was stronger. You didn't even know if it was correct to call him ‘friend’.

"You would be a good ace up my sleeve" was all he replied, in an attempt to convince you. Kaz begged absolutely no one, but if there was one thing he had decided before coming to find you, it was that he wouldn't leave until you agreed to help him. Although the nature of your current job made things a bit difficult for him, "Pekka never knew you worked for me, did he?"

"With you" you corrected him "I didn't work for you but with you. We got to The Barrel at the same time”

"Y/N" he murmured. Your name sounded strange coming from his lips after so long without hearing it and that caught you off guard “I'm trying to help you so you don't end up hurt or dead. If you work for… with me, I can tell you where not to be. Otherwise I could find you in the rubble of some confrontation or with a knife from Inej or a bullet from Jesper through your chest”

"Always so thoughtful," you replied with a smirk, but as much as it pained you to admit it, he had a point. You knew what he was capable of and what Pekka was capable of… which side was more convenient to be on? "How much are you going to pay me?" you asked and Kaz smiled, but it wasn't a sign of happiness but mockery “You've always said that's what's really important, haven't you?”

He took something out of his coat and tossed it on the table. They were bills.

"An advance, when I recover the crow club, I will pay you the rest"

“So my pay depends on whether we win or not. That doesn't sound so convenient to me,” you muttered, clicking your tongue, as you fought the urge to say yes just to be near him. It was cold outside, the rain was making a lot of noise and you just wanted to sleep at once, but you knew that you could have been arguing with him all night and neither of you would back down. Kaz was stubborn, one way or another he would get what he wanted. "This isn't just about the club, is it?" you said, with your voice noticeably lower and you would even say with a touch of softness. You and Kaz never talked about what had happened, but each of you was dealing with the weight of the trauma in your own way. He didn't say anything and this time you saw something in him that was different from his usual behavior, knowing that it was those ghosts from the past tormenting him.

"If someone should make him pay, it's us"

Us, again.

"I'll think about it" was what you answered, after reflecting on what would be the appropriate response. The speechless moment gave you something else to think about, and you knew that a huge flaw of yours was how easily you let your heart take over. Because even with all the other feelings on top, you still worried about him "Now that the crow club isn't yours..." you started to say, afraid of what he might say "do you have a place to stay?"

You would have offered to sleep there if he said no, but instead he said he’d manage. That didn't completely reassure you, but you decided not to insist.

“First thing tomorrow, send a reply to this address,” he asked you, holding out a piece of paper that had a few drops on it “Don't go there personally or you'll screw everything up, just send me a note. A yes or a no will suffice”

“What if someone tracks down the note?” you asked, which was a totally valid concern.

Kaz was silent while he thought of an alternative, and then spoke again.

“Just write crows of a feather, murder together. I'll understand” he murmured and you nodded. You knew the poem he was quoting from, had read it many times from the worn-out book he had gotten for you. Kaz didn't wait for anything else and took long steps to the door, which he opened as soon as he could. "Good night, Y/N."

And then he left.

That night you thought a lot about the solution you would give him in the morning, thinking about the pros and cons of each possible answer, until you decided that it was best to say yes. You needed to do it if you wanted to live peacefully (as much as the place allowed) but the main reason was to support him. If he had been about any stupid dispute you would have said no, but you knew this was something else. Kaz missed Jordie every day of his life and his way of honoring him was by planning revenge against the one who led him to that fate, so it was kind of an obligation for you to help him with that too.

You wrote the note on a piece of paper and carefully folded it to put it in an envelope. You signed the outside with his name, written in the best handwriting you had, and although you were hesitant to do so, at the end you wrote a little ‘from a friend’ in the hope of making it clear to him, and perhaps even encouraging him that, if he was willing, you could recover a little of what you had lost. And you weren’t referring to physical things, but to what existed between you.

All your life you had lived with almost opposite feelings when it came to Kaz. Somehow you were upset with him for only seeing you as an instrument that he could dispose of for his interests, but this was linked to the feeling of affection that you wanted him to experience for you and that apparently didn’t exist. It was difficult to decipher anything he was thinking, not just about you, since he had taken it upon himself to build such a convincing facade that it made it complicated to see beyond. Added to that was his aversion to touch of any kind, which, while quite understandable and justified, still made you feel sad. More than once you tried, in vain, to be able to touch him in some way, even if it was something tiny, but he always pushed you away. He pushed you away physically and eventually emotionally, and yet with all this background you wanted to help him.

You knew you couldn't expect a reply to your note, but you were confident that he had received it, and your suspicions were confirmed when another letter came back a couple of days later. It contained a day, a time, and a place, which you assumed was a meeting with him.

You were very careful when you headed there, because you thought that the fewer people saw you together, the better, or else Pekka might suspect something. You covered yourself with a long black cloak for this task and when you arrived you noticed that it wasn't Kaz who was there, but a couple of boys.

"Who are you?"

"And you?" you asked, with the same defensive tone. The place seemed to be an experiment workshop and looking at it in more detail you noticed that there was a bed, so it could even be some kind of apartment. The two men, one brown-skinned and the other pale as snow, wore simple brown suits and were looking at you warily.

“She is Y/N,” said a voice behind you. By the sound of the cane accompanied by the footsteps you knew it was Kaz, “she will work with us”

"Oh," said the dark-haired boy, looking happier with the answer, as he walked in your direction "Welcome, in that case" he muttered flirtatiously, as he held out his hand for you to greet him "Jesper Fahey, at your service”

"I am Wylan" intervened the other, from his place, timidly and quickly.

"You arrived" Kaz spoke again. You turned and a couple of women appeared, you guessed that the shorter one with Suli features was the famous wraith of Kaz. And she was beautiful, you couldn't help but notice.

There was a brief conversation with the six of you there and then Kaz asked you to walk him up to the roof of the place. Once there you instinctively stood next to the only one you knew and he just looked at you out of the corner of his eye while he adopted the typical position of him leaning on the cane.

“Brick by brick” whispered the man’s raspy voice and you were about to ask what you were supposed to do there when an explosion went off in the distance so impressively that you stepped back a bit. It didn't take you more than a few seconds to locate the space and realize the place it was.

"The crow club" you said in a low voice, only for the black-haired man to hear you, while you watched him in profile. But he didn't look at you, just exchanged words with the others and talked about how Pekka's apparent reign was coming to an end.

You'd always known that Kaz Brekker was a little unhinged, and that night you proved it for sure, but you weren't even the least bit afraid. Rather, it was some strange hope that this madness would allow you to go far. Even freedom, perhaps.

After that clear declaration of war, things got considerably complicated, especially when you were summoned before Pekka and he asked you to investigate someone in particular and it turned out to be none other than the man you were now secretly working with. You assumed it was something logical, but even so you feared that Rollins had noticed the slight tremor in your hands when he asked you to complete the task.

You summoned Kaz to Black Veil Cemetery, late at night, and there you confessed to him everything that had happened. He of course found something good in this and devised a way to use it to your advantage, which put you at ease. It still amazed you a little at how nervous you became around him as if you knew nothing of what you were doing, but when you regained your composure you thought it was an excellent plan.

Meetings with Kaz were regular, but always in secret and alone, and they worked to exchange information that you considered useful for him with what he would allow Pekka to know.

You didn't know the full plans and you weren't part of them in any way, or you would be found out, but you knew about almost everything that was going on. The attacks, the fights, the traps, the injuries... you had to look at everything from the outside without being able to intervene. It was frustrating for you, more than anything in the world, and you had to admit that you had taken a liking to crows, even if you had seen them only a couple of times, so you also looked after their safety.

One day you received a note and went to a meeting with all the members of his group present, to finally hear the full version of what Kaz intended to do to finish off your boss. It was a brilliant idea, but you were a little worried about your position in all of this.

“You mean I'm going to be there watching everything Pekka and his thugs do?”

"It will be the best" he answered you. His face still had a bruise on his cheek, a memory from the last fight he had, and he looked exhausted "Jesper and Nina will be there, plus you'll be in disguise" he added and you nodded at that.

When the moment came you thought it would be an easy task, but when Kaz started to get brutally beaten you had to muster all your willpower not to throw yourself into trying to face Pekka, even with your zero skill. He sounded so convincing when he said about Alby that even you believed it, feeling suddenly awed by the cynical smile on Kaz's blood-smeared face. And he also mentioned you in the story, although not directly, saying that it was all about revenge for having abandoned you two when you were children.

You were able to breathe again until Pekka and his entire gang left the place in search of a son who wasn't really buried and you four were left alone. Under other circumstances you would have run to Kaz, cupped his face in your hands, sobbed, and told him it was over. But instead, you just stood in front of him and watched him; his eyes were wild with fury and a thirst for revenge that had already been quenched, but you sensed a hint of calm when he became aware of your presence.

"Breathe," you said in a whisper. Jesper and Nina were dismayed by the closeness with which you spoke to him, as they knew little of your history together “You're fine. We all are,” you assured him. That situation took you back to multiple panic attacks in the past where, given the impossibility of physical contact, all you could do for him was talk to calm him down. It always worked and Kaz had forgotten how soft your voice was and the way you brought him back to the real world. You decided to risk trying to do something else to comfort him and cautiously stretched out your hand towards him, instantly seeing his eyes widen in terror. But your hand ended up landing, more like a touch than a squeeze, on the man's bicep, which was covered by his coat; it wasn't intrusive, or abrupt, and Kaz was surprised that he didn't feel anything negative about it. He looked at your hand and then he looked at you with that usual serious expression, but he didn't push you away and allowed you to stay that way for just a few seconds, after which you decided to move your limb back.

You didn’t receive a verbal response at any time, but you did see him exhale shakily (so softly that you barely noticed) and nod his head while still looking at you, as if he were letting go of a huge weight that was stuck in his chest and at the same time assure you that it felt like a victory. Victory for beating Pekka, victory because he wasn't engulfed by an attack when you touched him, and victory because somehow you were there. You were with him, again.

“Now can we go back to normal?” Jesper asked, to break the silence, and you felt like laughing. Have they ever had a normal life? you asked yourself, but you didn't say.

"Yes" was all Kaz said and taking one last look at you he began to walk in the direction of the exit.

Both of them were curious about the type of relationship you had with Kaz but neither thought it wise to ask at the time, although Nina was getting an idea of things thanks to your racing heartbeat and his that it was impossible not to hear a moment ago. You stayed there just long enough to have a drink with Jesper and then you left the Emerald Palace. You didn't want to go back home, but going with one of them didn't seem like an option either, and once you were on the street you felt worried about remembering the state the black-haired man had left. You trusted that by that time he would be calmer and as if they thought for themselves your legs began to walk to look for him.

It was cold again and you feared you would meet someone dangerous on the road, but you only saw a couple of drunks and a girl looking for clients. Until you were in front of the door, you wondered if it was a good idea to go in, thinking that you would probably be crossing a line that Kaz was not going to allow you to, and wondering if you were going to put up with his refusal, which was a pretty good chance.

With trembling hands you opened the door, which luckily was unlocked, and as if some unknown instinct were guiding you, you found Kaz's room; it was the only one from which light came out through the crack in the door and something told you that he was there. You knocked twice, fearing you had knocked so low that he hadn't heard, and even considered walking back the way you came, but didn't have time to as the door opened a few seconds later. He had already taken off his coat and vest, probably because they were stained with blood, and his black shirt was open at the top buttons, with the suspenders that held up his pants hanging on his thighs. But what caught your attention the most were his pale, gloveless hands.

"What do you need?" he asked you directly. His face looked worse now that the bruises had swollen and the blood was dry. He'd probably have them for a couple of days, and he was definitely going to have a scar over his eyebrow.

"I wanted to see you" you replied, instantly regretting not having considered your sincere words better "I mean... to see how you were" you tried to correct. You thought he would slam the door in your face, but instead he scooted to the side to let you in, then closed the door behind you with a soft click.

Again you felt alien to the place for a moment, thanks to the fact that he looked at you from head to toe as if your presence bothered him. You had to mentally remind yourself that he saw most of them that way.

“Your pay will be ready soon”

"That doesn't matter," you said softly. Several things had changed since the first conversation you had with him, because now that you knew why Kaz had done everything he had done and the traumatic memories returned to both of you, the money had taken a backseat.

You didn't say anything for a moment and you looked for a place where you could sit later. Kaz’s room, once painted green but now just damp walls, had a small bed by the window, a desk littered with papers and a lamp facing another window, with a simple bookcase placed on the top of the side wall; a nightstand, a place to wash your hands with a mirror above it, a circular table in the middle of the free space, and a single armchair that at least looked comfortable. It wasn't the prettiest place, but at least it was cozy.

"Your girl, did she leave?"

“Inej is not my girl. Or from anyone, she is free now” he answered you. He still wasn't looking at you and you noticed that he was having a hard time staying on his feet.

"I'm glad to hear it. She deserves it” you murmured sincerely. You thought that she would be important to Kaz, like all his partners, and you decided to venture out to see if he revealed something else to you. "She's very smart."

"She is"

"And she's pretty too" you added and without moving his head he looked out at yours. You felt as if he was reading your intentions through your eyes, a quality he had always had.

"I think so," he said without much interest.

"Are you very hurt?" you asked, changing the subject, as you took a step towards him. By inertia he took the same step, in the opposite direction, and that made you stop abruptly.

"Nothing to worry about" he exclaimed and though he thought, you couldn't have known, of course, get close to you, you decided to take that step back before he did anything else.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm"

"What did I do to make you walk away?" you exclaimed, finally expressing a question that had been eating away at your chest and tormenting you for many nights in a row. And since there was silence, you spoke again: “Not like right now, but a long time ago. It's just… I never understood it. Before we were friends and for me… you were even like a family. I loved your brother too and I know losing him never affected us the same, but I was glad you were there for me after that. Then we got older and things got more difficult, but I still had you and that calmed me down. And then… we just drifted apart,” you muttered, shrugging, as you avoided his gaze. Kaz still didn't answer anything and you felt the obligation to fill the silence “Sometimes I remember the things we went through when we were young. The good ones, of course. Like that time we stole a cake to celebrate your birthday and it was probably the best sweet I've ever eaten” you commented, smiling at the memory "And when I made you laugh with my bad jokes, no matter how angry or sad you were... I haven't seen you smile for a long time and I don't know if you celebrate your birthday anymore” you reflected wistfully, almost as if you were talking to yourself. And well, in the face of Kaz's inexpressiveness, that's practically what you were doing.

He hadn't said anything yet and you concluded that all your effort was useless. It had been a mistake to go looking for him, as well as trying to get even the slightest proof that he had ever missed you and you wished you had never opened your mouth. You sighed to contain the urge to cry and without saying anything else you turned towards the exit, intending to leave and return only for your money, but Kaz's voice echoed.

"Do you remember what I told Pekka?"

You stopped.

“You told him many things, you will have to be more specific”

"About not loving anything" he replied. Your hand trembled on the doorknob at the mere thought of what he was implying and I was able to hear your racing heart pounding in your chest. You heard footsteps and, still without moving, you heard him speak again "That's why I drifted apart”

You never, even in your wildest dreams, imagined that he would say something like that to you and perhaps you were just deluding yourself with the implication of the words, but it was enough to make you freeze in place.

"I still don't understand how that relates to me” you expressed in a low voice. Kaz took a few more steps towards you until you could see his shadow mingling with yours and you felt it was time to turn. He was watching you from above, seriously.

"I didn't want…" he trailed off. You would almost say he was nervous “I didn't want you to be…”

"A weak spot," you said without thinking, followed by a sigh that sounded almost amused "That's your problem, Kaz," you continued, your gaze far across the room, "You think love is a person's greatest weakness, when it's not like that"

"It is not?"

"No" you exclaimed with determination "I believe that... many times love is what keeps us alive. Struggling"

You were speaking for yourself when you said this. What was your motivation every day? In the past, the love for Kaz. Now, it was love for yourself and the hope that one day someone could love you with the intensity with which you loved others.

“I had already lost Jordie. I didn't want to lose you too,” he finally said and that's when your eyes locked with his. You never thought he would verbally express something like that.

“And did you prefer that I lose you?" you whispered in pain. You wanted him to be aware of things, because it seemed like it had never crossed his mind to stop thinking about your well-being and start thinking about your feelings. “You don't just lose someone when they die, Kaz. You can also lose those who are fully alive”

He didn't say anything, because he clearly didn't know what to answer to that, and while he reflected on your words, you caught a glimpse of a certain vulnerability in his blue eyes that you had rarely seen. I couldn't say that you knew the man in front of you better than anyone, but you had a considerable advantage thanks to the years you had lived with him.

“Okay, just… listen” you started to say, knowing he most likely wouldn't give you an answer “I know it's hard to live as we do— as all of us at The Barrel live, but the risks I decide or don't take. They are my decision, not yours. These years you have sought to keep me out of danger and I appreciate it, but you have to learn to trust me”

"I do. I trust you"

"Then show me," you replied. You couldn't help noticing that, even with his stained face, Kaz was still the most handsome man you'd ever seen “Friends do not avoid each other, nor do they move away and despite that, during all these years I have trusted you as from the first moment we were left alone”

You didn't know if you were saying the right thing, but at least you were saying something.

"And if it's too late?"

It was too late? Kaz wondered. He wondered if it was too late to open up to someone, to try to get over his trauma, to let go and finally love you the way he wanted to.

But all this remained as a thought, phrases that couldn’t leave his throat.

“It's not for me,” you assured him. “But my patience won't last forever. I think you should know that”

You couldn't even imagine how many emotions Kaz was trying to process at that moment, but even he himself didn't understand what a mess you'd made of him with that conversation. From his perception, he had admitted that he loved you, but from his eyes, you didn't seem affected by it. And you, contrary to what he thought, felt like you were going to faint.

You were about to leave, for the second time, but he spoke:

“Stay,” he said, sounding more desperate than he would have liked. “I don't know what to say, but… just stay here. I don't want us to be alone tonight”

Us. That fucking habit of Kaz's to speak in the plural and make you a nervous wreck.

You looked at the bed and found that it was too small for both of you, to which we had to add his refusal to be close to others. Proof of this was the unconscious movement of sticking your hands as close as possible to his body during the entire time you were talking.

"Use the bed, obviously you need it more than me" you muttered and went directly to the armchair. Fortunately your first impression wasn’t wrong, it was very comfortable.

The room was so small that the apparent distance between the pieces of furniture didn't mean much, so when he sat on the bed you could see him perfectly.

The memory of one of the times when both of you were in similar situations came to your mind. That night you had been woken by frightened screams from the next room, in that abandoned house where you and Kaz found shelter, forcing you out of bed to investigate.

It was hard to comfort a person without physically touching them, especially when he had nightmares, and over the months you'd had to get used to it. The boy hated waking you up, it made him feel guilty and stupid, but you always kept him company. You never spoke, never asked questions, you just stayed there so he knew he wasn't alone.

Maybe something like that was what Kaz needed tonight.

"Rest" you exclaimed. His head turned to look at you and you detected a different and special glow in his eyes; as if it were a mixture of fear, softness, and gentleness. You appreciated that look for a few more seconds, which you feared you would never see again in your life, and then you reached out your hand to turn off the light on the desk.

Silence reigned in the darkness.

You settled in the chair, trying to figure out what would be the best sleeping position, and at the same time you heard Kaz slide between the sheets on the bed. After a while, your eyelids felt heavy, a consequence of the fatigue that the hustle and bustle of the day had left you, and when you were about to fall asleep, a voice pulled you out of your reverie.

"Thank you. For everything”

The phrase was a whisper, a delicate caress in your ear, but you understood it clearly. And you decided to think that when Kaz said 'for everything' he meant literally everything you had selflessly done for him during his life; like he just realized you were important. But it's not that he had just noticed it, but that he had just accepted it.

You wanted to stretch out the moment as long as you could because, even if you weren't looking at him, you knew he was awake thanks to the sound of his breathing, but at some point sleep overcame you and you fell fast asleep.

Kaz had nightmares that night, like always, but the difference was that when he woke up in shock in the morning, you were in the same room. So seeing you there, keeping him company, was reason enough to calm him down.

And like every time this had happened, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #the crows #six of crows #jesper fahey #inej gafha #wylan van eck #nina zenik #mathias helvar #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine

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massiveharmonytiger · 6 months

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So some people were very confused by this post, which would not exist were it not for the very specific form of Hannibal brainrot I'm afflicted with that can be summed up with the following sentence: Everything is about my blorbos. So I thought I should make a series of posts, because of reasons. Yes, I am very hinged and normal, thank you for asking.

First up, Zootopia.

A prey-coded character with lots of empathy, a passion for solving crime and big blue eyes tries to become a cop.

They get told that they don't have what it takes to be a cop for very similar reasons.

Their boss is a big, burly, slightly grumpy character.

He keeps assigning them cases that they're a bit reluctant to take on, but they do their job nonetheless. After all, they're professionals. They're here to save lives.

Their work leads to them meeting a sassy gay couple.

And a handsome, suave, honey-tongued predator-coded character who wears a tie everywhere.

He has an appreciation for fresh produce:

And has worn a muzzle at some point because the people around him feared getting eaten:

They team up and solve crimes together for a while.

There's a significant part of the plot takes place in a psychiatric hospital.

At one point the main character's very rich friend gets pregnant. They agree to become a parental type figure in the child's life.

The prey-coded character betrays the predator-coded character. The betrayal involves them denying the savagery inside them.

This betrayal is only fixed when the prey-coded character realizes they are not immune to going savage.

The prey-coded character leaves their family and returns to the predator, who means a lot to them.

They celebrate by sacrificing a lamb.

Bonus bunny cannibal joke:

#hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #the hannibal effect #hannibal brainrot #zootopia #nick wilde #judy hopps #wildehopps

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thelovelyghostwriter · 5 months

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As a Kuraneon shipper and a shipper of non-canon ships, I am totally at peace that they have a low to zero possibility of being canon. Shipping is just a fun activity for me and to create content, have that creative relaxation for shits and giggles.

The exception for this is CoAi from Detective Conan. It was my first ship, shipping that pairing is so painful because you can really see their chemistry and all the things they had gone through together in canon. But because the writer prefers childhood love stories (it seems), it can never be canon. And this year, there's a lot of CoAi content, especially this year's 2023 movie and even that Uniqlo shirt. We all know it's just money but ahhhh seeing this beautiful ship have its spotlight again. This is that one pairing I really wished for it to be canon. Like, it could have been one of the best couples in shonen manga. A story about two people going through the same adversity, solving crimes together, and getting to know each other. I still remember how they progressed from the episode they had first met. Conan grew to trust her and saw a softer side of her, and Ai slowly tried to live her life again. They had a lot of moments together that was really romantic.

(In my opinion only), this pairing is much more interesting than the one we got. Yes, Ran is a very nice and sweet girl, I really like her as a person. But I think Gosho's mistake is having Ai (who is vital in the BO plot), take the secondary role and one-sided love. It would make more sense if the main love interest had a vital role in the plot, but instead, we got the opposite for this series.

Another factor is that since there are so many childhood love stories in the series, it makes the main pairing less unique because it's like a copy-paste of many other pairings in the series. Lastly, Ai is more interesting and layered character-wise, even more than Shinichi I believe. We see her grow in the series and her background story is really sad, yet she tries to overcome that. She has flaws that are directly related to her childhood, unlike Ran who seems to lack any flaws. Sometimes it's better to have a flawed character than someone perfect. It encourages character growth and this is why I always find myself being drawn to her, and wanting the best ending for her.

This is just my opinion only. It's okay if others don't share the same perspective, but these are just my thoughts.

#coai #shinshi #conan x ai #conan x ai haibara #detective conan #detective conan movie 26 #haibara ai

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nycbabyjoey · 6 months

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Jinkies!

NSFW 18+ Only

Contains ABDL Content

"Jeepers," Daphne exclaimed as she approached the run-down spooky building. "This place is giving me the willies."

"No one said solving this mystery would be for the faint of heart," Velma replied. "But a series of spooky disappearances in a historically haunted town just before Halloween is nothing we can't handle."

Velma and Daphne stood shoulder to shoulder outside the Mystery Machine with their flashlights armed. Mystery Incorporated had gotten a tip a few days ago about tourists going missing in the Halloween destination town of Yawning Creek, Massachusetts.

"The town gets an influx of tourism around Halloween because of the Legend of Yawning Creek," Velma had explained to the gang.

"Zoinks!" Shaggy quivered. "Is that, like, the story where that scary monster hypnotizes people to walk in the creek where they're, like, never heard from again?!"

"The very same," Velma had responded, ambivalent to Shaggy's usual fright towards any mystery that came across their desks.

It was part of the dynamic that had lead to Mystery Incorporated's overwhelming success rate of solving mysteries over the past couple of years and made them world-renowned crime stoppers. Velma was the brains behind the group, analyzing details, collecting clues, and piecing it all together to unmask the supposed "monster" as just another average person with a grievance. Daphne brought the beauty, which allowed her to get accustomed with people, discover their motives, get kidnapped... only sometimes, and help the crew trap the culprit.

The others contributed as well, but it was Velma and Daphne's strong chemistry that landed the two of them here in front of the abandoned building, following a lead they had picked up from the town historian about the disappearances.

Who could've done it? Was it Mayor Bushwell in an effort to stir even more tourism to Yawning Creek in a sick ploy for reelection? Could it be Sheriff Walker, frustrated at the surge of Halloween mischief that the town's spooky origins attracted? Or maybe even the town historian himself, Old Man Jenkins, sending the girls on a wild goose chase so that they didn't catch on to his scheme to show people the true horrors of the town's capitalized-upon history?

The pair hoped that the answers to where these missing people were could be found here - the abandoned Yawning Creek Daycare Center. It was certainly a peculiar crime scene, Velma thought. But she couldn't afford to leave one stone unturned.

"Let's split up," Daphne suggested.

"Good idea," Velma said. "That way, we can cover more ground. Try not to get kidnapped again."

"Hardy-har," Daphne mocked back.

The two went their separate ways once inside the daycare. Velma went right at the reception area and Daphne turned left.

Velma opened the door to discover a large classroom setting that she suspected could fit nearly twenty students. It was quite a big space for a preschool classroom, fitted with shared tables for all the students, a play area with a chest stuffed full of toys like firetrucks and building blocks, and a reading carpet with shelves of childrens' books behind it. Velma always had an interest in reading, even at that young age. She reminisced about sitting criss-cross applesauce on the carpet and listening to her teacher reading The Rainbow Fish for the class, stopping after each page to show all the pictures.

Velma snapped out of her nostalgic thoughts. It was all very nice, but what did any of this have to do with the missing townspeople? A vengeful mother seeking revenge for the city's decreasing options for childcare? Seems farfetched, Velma figured. I have to look for more clues.

As she made a quick motion to reinspect the classroom, Velma accidentally stumbled on an old-fashioned Farm Animal Noises Wheel, which made a sustained "Mooo!" sound, as she fell to the ground. She caught herself on her two hands and her glasses flew off, sliding across the floor to an unknown destination.

"Oh no, my glasses!" Velma bemoaned. "I can't see a thing without my glasses!"

Velma began crawling on all floors around the Pre-K classroom, attempting to feel out for her spectacles. As she felt around, she grabbed something that felt like a small wooden box. She pulled it close to her face so she could make it out with her poor vision. It was a shape-sorter toy! The one where you had to fit the different shaped pegs in the correct holes. Velma used to love them when she was a tyke! Testing her geometrical knowledge and sharpening her brain was a treat to her at that age.

Velma indulged in her nostalgia by picking up one of the square pegs and placing it in the... wait, which hole did it go in again? Velma sat on the playmat, dumbfounded as she was unable to think of the correct option. She was a genius, after all! After a moment, she tried to jam it through a circle-shaped hole, but it didn't work. She went back to her train of confusion, not noticing as a stream of drool flowed from the side of her mouth onto her bright, orange sweater.

Suddenly, Velma's vision returned as a pair of foreign hands placed her glasses onto her face for her.

"Don't worry," the person said. "You don't have to worry about thinking anymore."

Meanwhile, Daphne searched what appeared to be the infant care area. There were large changing tables and shelves full of fresh diapers. Daphne gagged at the thought of having to change diapers. Gross!

Daphne was not the one to get her hands dirty, literally or metaphorically. Even for Mystery Inc., she wasn't the one collecting clues or putting all the puzzle pieces together; that was Velma. Daphne had the people skills to balance out Velma's analytical mind.

In this abandoned daycare, those skills may not have come in handy as much, Daphne thought to herself. There was no one here and even if they're were toddlers abound, she doubted it would make for rousing conversation.

It was these isolated situations where Daphne usually found herself being kidnapped - a typical damsel in distress. But, Daphne knew she was more than that and so she was sure to be checking every corner for anyone or anything that may be lurking.

She made her way towards a sleeping area where the little ones could be tucked in for naptime. However, a realization hit Daphne - these cribs weren't that little. In fact, they were pretty large! Large enough for Daphne herself to fit in. That must be a clue, Daphne figured. She had found a clue! And not gotten kidnapped! She almost couldn't wait to go share with Velma.

Unfortunately, Daphne celebrated far too early as, all of a sudden, a pair of ropes sprung out from amidst the darkness and wrapped themselves around Daphne's hands and feet, causing her to fall to the ground.

"Eep!" Daphne shouted as she hit the cushioned floor. With a thud, Daphne began to scream, "Velmaahhh-" Her cries for help were cut short by a piece of thick, black tape that came out of nowhere and covered up her mouth.

Daphne thrashed around on the ground while her yells were muffled.

"That's a lovely outfit," a voice said from the darkness, causing Daphne to pause in fear. "But I think it's time for a change."

Daphne's eyes widened as her clothes were magically ripped off her body one by one. First, her iconic long-sleeved purple dress flew forward after tearing at the back. She felt her bra magically unclasp at the back before it flew off into the darkness, followed by her panties. She was left completely exposed by the undressing, which ended with her lime-green scarf being pulled from her neck.

Daphne screamed as the invisible force yanked on her hair, pulling her to an upright sitting position. She tried moving her head around to escape the magic's grasp, but she was helpless as it began tying and knotting her hair. Daphne couldn't make out what it was doing until the pulling stopped and two pigtails fell down on either side of her head.

Suddenly, Daphne found herself laid with her back flat against the floor again as the mysterious force grabbed her feet and pushed them up towards her head, laying her ass bare for anyone who came through the door. She felt as something was slipped under it, but she was unable to lift her head high enough to make out what it was. It felt a little like medical exam table paper on Daphne's butt, but it was thicker. Daphne squealed as her legs were dropped and the rope binding them was undone so that the strange object could be folded up in between her legs. As it was fastened together on either side of her hips, Daphne realized what it was - it was a large diaper!

Finally, the rope that was shackling Daphne's hands and the muzzle that was constricting her mouth fell to the ground. "WHAT THE FU-" Daphne shrieked with tears in her eyes, but as her mouth was open a large pink pacifier flew inside, silencing her once again.

The magic force dragged Daphne by the legs out of the sleeping area and back towards the daycare. Daphne desperately dug her nails into the carpet in an attempt to fight back, but the force was too strong and she wailed as her body was tugged back through the door.

Once she was through the door and the force let go, she turned her body over and immediately spotted Velma. Daphne would have ordinarily been humiliated with her situation - this was certainly the worst kidnapping she had found herself in yet - but she realized Velma was also dressed like a giant baby! Her orange jumper and glasses were missing, leaving her in only a diaper and pigtails. Velma had no pacifier though; in fact, she drooled from her mouth with a vacant expression in her eyes. "Dafdee!" Velma celebrated with her arms raised high in the air at the sight of her friend Daphne.

"Velma?" Daphne managed past her pacifier. "Wha happen'd to-"

Daphne's inquiry was cut short as a figure came out of the darkness behind Velma. "Forn?" Daphne managed.

It was Thorn, the friendly rocker witch from Oakhaven. "Surprised, Daphne?"

"Forn, wha aw you doin'?" Daphne lisped her way through.

Thorn used her magic to pull Daphne's pacifier into her hand at a speed so fast it made an audible pop exiting Daphne's mouth.

"Sorry baby, I didn't quite catch that," Thorn teased. "Try annunciating."

"Thorn!" Daphne yelled in frustration. "Why'd you dress us like babies? We're your friends!"

"Fwiends! Fwiends!" Velma cheered, mindlessly clapping her hands together while bouncing up and down on her padded bottom.

"Friends?" Thorn questioned in disgust. "Ugh, classic Daphne. So sure that everyone must absolutely love you! We did get along long enough to stop The Witch's Ghost, entirely thanks to me! But I'm guessing you don't even remember what you said to me after that, do you?"

Daphne shook her head.

"Really? When I asked to join Mystery, Inc.?" Thorn recalled. "You and Velma laughed in my face, saying that there wasn't room for another girl on the team. You guys boasted about how you had the 'brains' and the 'looks' covered and that I had neither to offer. You told me to go run along and play with my 'little band.'"

Daphne was stunned. "Thorn, that's not how we meant it. You took it the wrong way! Besides, you lead innocent visitors to their demise just because of some stupid vendetta against us?"

Thorn cackled. "Nobody's missing!" she revealed. "See, if you and Velma were as clever as you think you are, you would have investigated to see if anyone had gone missing instead of blindly believing some anonymous tip!"

"That was you?!" Daphne realized, eyes wide. Thorn nodded her head with a grin.

"So now you're going to transform me into some mindless bimbo like her?" Daphne cried, gesturing towards Velma who was unintelligibly making noises with her mouth like "buhbuhbuh" while rolling around on the floor in her diaper.

Thorn laughed again. "Oh Daphne, don't give yourself so much credit. I took away Velma's 'brains', but you - you already have about a grade school reading level. There's barely any 'brains' to take! No, you were the 'looks,' weren't you? Always loving your cute little outfits and believing that being the team slut was actually important to solving mysteries! You'll be in only one outfit from now on - your diaper. My spell makes it so you can't wear anything else. And you won't be able to remove it yourself."

Daphne fumed, both at the accusation that she was stupid and at the prospect of toddling around in thick diapers for the rest of her life! She pulled at the tapes, trying to rip them off to no avail.

"It's not a total loss," Thorn mocked. "You'll still be able to accessorize! They make lots of cute diapers with fairy princesses or unicorns or mermaids on them! We'll see how many men are fawning over you in that getup! I'm sure Fred will find it so hot when you tug on his ascot and ask him to change your stinky diaper!"

Tears ran down Daphne's face. "You can't do this! You ca-" Daphne was once again interrupted by the large pacifier flying into her mouth.

"That's better," Thorn said. "Now, one last spell."

Thorn snapped her fingers and Daphne immediately felt her stomach rumble. She grasped it, clenching every muscle in her body to block what was about to happen. She heard a fart escape Velma's diaper, followed by a giggle. Her counterpart was blissfully content with the spell's effects and didn't fight them, audibly unloading a mess in the backseat of her diaper. Daphne's face turned red from strain, praying to avoid the same fate. But at long last, Daphne couldn't take it and destroyed her diaper, filling it from front to back with liquid mush.

"Oh, how cute!" Thorn derided. "It smells like you babies left me two clues! Now, you two are going to change each others' dirty diapers after a quick game of 'humpies'. Then, I'll bring you two back to Shaggy and Fred where we'll introduce them to the newest member of Mystery, Inc. - me! My crime-solving intuition suspects that there may be a spot for a girl on the team after all. Even if that spot involves changing diapers and warming up bottles for this dynamic diaper duo!"

I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids and your Patreon!

#ab/dl #diaper caption #ab/dl caption #diaper humiliation #ab/dl girl #ab/dl fiction #ab/dl story #ab/dl story time #ab/dl babygirl

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 3 months

Text

Love Bites

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader (feat. Max Phillips!)

Rating: M (adult content, non-explicit smut, 18+)

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings: Vampires! Blood drinking, talk of hunger (for blooooood) and killing (for bloooooood!). An art crime which is never actually solved, Soft Marcus, sarcastic asshole with a heart of gold Max. IDK if this is a threesome but it’s definitely threesome-adjacent, idiots in love, vampire venom causes euphoria and spontaneous orgasms because I said so, kissing, men kissing men, vampire bites, feeding, sharing blood through kissing,

Summary: You and your partner, Marcus Pike make a house call to the home of a wealthy art collector who just reported the theft of a two-million dollar glass, er, “sculpture.” At first, you can’t stand the smarmy Max Phillips, but when you find Marcus unconscious in the man’s living room, you find you have bigger problems than Max’s gross overuse of vampire puns…

A/N: I hallucinated this entire thing one night a few weeks ago instead of sleeping. Many, many thanks to @littlebirdsbookshelf for enduring and encouraging an endless line of screenshots of this fic and for helping with the moodboard!

Masterlist

As you read your newest assigned case file, your eyebrows feel as though they’re skyrocketing up into your hairline. You look up, shooting your partner a skeptical, unamused stare.

“Someone’s pulling your leg, Pike.”

Your partner playfully rolls his pretty brown eyes and flashes you that boyish smile that you lov–that you think is really nice, that’s all.

“You don’t think I had the presence of mind to fact check and verify this guy’s story? You wound me.”

“Who the hell spends that kind of money on this?”

Marcus shrugs. “It’s not uncommon for affluent art collectors to buy million-dollar pieces for their collections.”

“Yeah, but this?”

“Don’t tell me that you, of all people, are going to give me that old, tired dismissal of modern art simply because you don’t understand it.”

“This is a dildo,” you deadpan.

Marcus presses his lips together, nodding slowly. “...Some people have more money than sense.”

“Apparently.”

Your partner crosses over and picks up the file you’d dropped on your desk. “I spoke to the collector on the phone earlier,” he says as he scans the page. “Has a penthouse up in West End, told him we’d be up to do forensics this afternoon.”

“Yipee.”

“This is serious. It’s not every day that… ‘Arthur Feathermoore’s… Animals of Pleasure’… goes missing,” Marcus says, squinting down at the file as he reads the name of the sculpture.

You can’t help but snort at the title, and it causes your partner’s serious facade to dissolve into laughter himself, and the two of you giggling like rookies for a few moments before your eyes meet. Marcus’s face is the very picture of warmth, and as you often do, you feel as though you’re falling into his dark brown pools. The mirth is suddenly replaced by an uncomfortable silence that he breaks first, coughing awkwardly and looking back down at the case file in his hand.

“So anyways,” Marcus says brightly, “how about a little field trip up to West End?”

“You got it. I need to meet the idiot who spent a million dollars on a glass dildo.”

“Feathermoore’s Animals of Pleasure,” your partner corrects with a teasing smile.

“Quite the place,” Marcus comments as the two of you enter the ornate lobby of Maplebrook Heights, the building of luxury condominiums where your art collector lives on the top floor penthouse.

“I think it’s shit,” you say, eyeing the crystal chandelier hanging near the elevators. Something about the place makes you want to leave greasy handprints all over the spotless mirrors and stainless steel elevator doors.

You flash your badges to the lobby attendant, who picks up a phone receiver, listens for a couple minutes, nods, and sets it back down again.

“Mr. Phillips has been expecting you,” they say, leading you over to the elevators and pressing the top button without saying anything more.

When the doors open again, they reveal a man in a well-tailored suit with an overly-starched shirt and even starchier expression. The overall effect evokes a sort of statuesque rigidity–a man made out of stone. Suddenly, though, as if just noticing your appearance in the elevator, the man’s lips curl up into a smarmy, affectatious smile.

“You must be the feds,” he says in a buttery-smooth tone that you aren’t sure is real or as artificial as the rest of him seems to be.

“That’s us,” Marcus replies cheerfully, stepping forward and offering his hand. The man seems to pause, looking your partner up and down with his head cocked to the side before taking it and shaking it firmly.

Trying to be professional, you extend yours as well. Rather than give you the same firm handshake he offered Marcus, the man gently grasps your fingers and ducks his head as though he were about to kiss the back of your hand. Feeling off-balance, you give his hand an awkward squeeze and shake before stepping back quickly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Phillips,” Marcus says, expertly disguising your discomfort, much to your relief.

“Max, please,” the man replies with an amused pout. “Come this way, I’m sure you’re both dying to see the scene of the crime.”

You shoot Marcus a look behind Max’s back, raising one eyebrow at his odd phrasing. Your partner shrugs gamefully before following the suited man through the double-doors to his penthouse.

As soon as you’re inside, your eyes widen at the décor. Every available inch of wall is covered in artwork from the Renaissance to the Modern, and you suppress the urge to gasp in amazement.

“Quite the collection,” Marcus comments.

“Mm, yes. You could say that I've spent generations acquiring it.”

“So art collecting runs in the family?”

“Of course.”

“This piece, er–Animals of Pleasure–was that an inherited piece, or…?”

Max grins widely, showing a row of alarmingly white teeth. “That one was a personal favorite–the sculptor is an acquaintance of mine.” He walks through the living room to an empty display case and regards it with a little frown. “Look at that. Like a wooden stake to the heart.”

“Apparently it was the personal favorite of someone else, too,” Marcus remarks.

“You’re a funny one, I like that,” Max drawls.

“In your report, you said you noticed it was gone on the morning of Sunday the 25th,” you interject. “What were the circumstances leading up to that discovery?”

“I had a… rather sizable party here the night before,” Max answers with a crooked smile. “I assume the culprit was one of my esteemed guests.”

“Got a guest list?” Marcus asks.

“Of course I do.” Max produces a paper from a nearby desk with an exaggerated flourish.

“Anyone on this list that might have shown particular interest in the piece?”

“They’re all a bunch of vampires,” Max scoffs dismissively, waving his hand. “I’m sure there are more than a few of them who’d love to sink their… teeth… into my collection.”

“Are you suggesting this theft was out of revenge?” you ask with a confused frown. “Did any guests have a personal vendetta against you?”

“Now, now, I’m practically the life of the party,” Max chuckles. “Most of the attendees and I go way back. There’s no bad blood between us; if anything, I’d say this is simply a distasteful prank.”

“You called the FBI for a prank?” you can’t help but ask.

“I like it,” Max says, putting on what’s clearly his best ‘sad puppy dog’ face with exaggeratedly upturned eyebrows and pouted lips. “It’s the crown jewel of my collection, and I want it back.”

“Of course,” Marcus reassures the other man. “We in the Art Crimes division treat art theft with the utmost importance it deserves.”

“Ah, yes, the FBI, always as serious as the grave.” Max says teasingly, giving Marcus a simpering smile. You don’t like the way he’s looking at your partner–sizing him up in the same way one would a conquest… or a meal.

“We’ve got what we need, Mr. Phillips,” you say brusquely, snapping your notebook shut a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Of course, of course,” the other man says dismissively, as if he couldn’t care less about the whole affair.

“We’ll keep you informed of any progress,” Marcus adds, smiling amicably. He always did do a better job than you of hiding his distaste for unpleasant characters.

“You should go use the little girl’s room before you leave,” Max suggests, again flashing you a row of perfectly white, straight teeth. “Long drive back to HQ.”

You’re just about to tell him where to shove that condescending suggestion, when you suddenly realize it’s a great idea. It is a long drive back, and you don’t remember needing to before, but for some reason as soon as the suggestion leaves his lips, you find yourself needing to find a bathroom sooner rather than later. You nod and excuse yourself, turning your back on the odd twinkle in Max’s eyes.

What a weirdo. You’ve worked with some characters before–and sometimes it seems the richer they are, the more eccentric and out of touch–but Max Phillips really takes the cake. The uncanny smile, the stupid puns, the uncomfortable innuendo that you never could figure out were intended for you or for Marcus…

You hope the case wraps up quickly, is the point. You finish washing your hands on a towel that feels as though it has a higher thread count than any set of sheets you’ve ever owned and hurry back to the sitting room where the two men are waiting for you.

When you get there, Marcus is lying on the floor, unmoving.

“Marcus!” you exclaim in alarm, pushing past Max–who is standing calmly as though nothing unusual has happened–and drop to your knees beside him. “What the hell happened?” you demand, staring up at the other man.

“Dunno. He just collapsed.”

You want to scream at him. How can you be so indifferent? A man just collapsed in your home. Before you can say anything, though, Marcus coughs.

You whirl back around, cataloging Marcus’s face frantically as he opens his eyes and blinks dazedly.

“What–Why am I on the floor?” he asks, staring up at you in utter confusion.

“You tell me,” you murmur, placing your hand on his clammy forehead. “I came back and you were on the ground. Mr. Phillips says you collapsed.”

Marcus sits up blearily. You watch as he frowns and shakily brings one hand to his neck, feeling it gingerly as though he’d been injured, although you don’t see anything to indicate it.

“Yeah,” he agrees breathlessly. “Yeah, just… collapsed. Uh–” He looks around the room with wary eyes.

“Can you get up?” you ask, standing yourself and extending your hand.

Marcus nods and allows you to pull him to his feet. Once standing, he sways and blinks rapidly, as if he were dizzy. When you place your hands on his shoulders to steady him, he giggles, like he suddenly finds the entire situation hilarious.

You don’t share his humor.

“C’mon,” you say, grabbing his wrist and trying to lead him away. You can’t explain why, but something in your lizard brain is telling you to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“Feel better soon,” Max offers lightly, smiling that unsettling smile again. “Drink plenty of fluids.”

You don’t bother answering.

Marcus continues to be unsteady on his feet, and you end up having to help him down the front steps of the building and into the passenger seat of the car.

“Hi!” he slurs enthusiastically when you enter and sit down in the driver’s seat. “Wow, I feel really funny.” You watch with growing concern as he holds up his hands and examines them as though he’d never seen them before.

You don’t know how to respond, so you busy yourself with adjusting the seat to your height, since Marcus had driven you there. Pressing and holding the button, the electric motor whines as you slowly slide upward, then a good deal forward.

Marcus giggles again. “You have short legs.”

“Astute observation,” you grumble as you turn the key into the ignition.

“Legs,” he repeats, and laughs again.

“Jesus,” you mutter. “Marcus… were you drugged? Did Max Phillips drug you?”

“No!” he protests. “I… I don’t think so?” he adds, sounding less sure.

“What happened when I was gone?” you asked. “Before you collapsed.”

Marcus shrugs exaggeratedly and makes a nonchalant ‘nnNNnn’ sound.

“You don’t remember?’

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “Wait… he said… the–the guy?”

“Max?”

“Max! Yeah. He said uh…” Marcus giggles again. “He said… I was pretty? That’s weird. Is that weird?” he looks over at you, looking so concerned and worried that you almost laugh in spite of yourself.

“Little weird,” you agree.

“He said that I was pretty… and that it would be a shame to let that go to waste,” he adds, frowning down at his hands as he remembers.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I guess it means I’m pretty,” Marcus says matter-of-factly, sitting back in his seat and grinning for a few moments before suddenly sobering again. “I think he was… gonna hug me?”

“Hug you?” you ask, looking at your partner in confusion.

“Yeah, he… he was really close, and–” Marcus’s hand absentmindedly touches his neck again. “Nah. Never mind. I don’t think that’s right.”

“I think he gave you something,” you tell him, starting to feel more and more worried by the minute. “You aren’t acting like yourself.”

“Hey! You know what sounds really good?” Marcus suddenly asks, sounding excited. “Tomato juice. Except… not tomato juice. Something like tomato juice, but… different.”

“Like a bloody mary?” you ask skeptically, humoring him.

He purses his lips, as though thinking deeply about something.

“Yep,” he finally agrees. “That’s it. Bloody mary.”

“Great,” you say as you pull in front of Marcus’s building. “Tell you what, you go to bed and sleep off whatever the fuck this is, and I’ll buy you all the bloody marys you can drink.”

You help Marcus up the stairs (nearly an impossible task, because he keeps stopping and looking around him as though he’s never seen a stairwell with chipped paint and cracks in the walls before) and when you finally reach his apartment, you unceremoniously deposit him onto his bed.

He’s asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

You watch him snore for a couple of minutes, completely at a loss for what to do now. All you know is that you can’t leave him–not when you don’t know what’s wrong with him. And something is wrong. Every nerve in your body is in agreement there: Marcus is not okay.

You resist the urge to press your palm to his cheek and gently trace the line of his cheekbone. He’s asleep. He wouldn’t know.

No. Even now, you can’t bring yourself to give into that temptation. Even with as worried about him as you are, physical affection is still way off limits. You’d be showing too much of yourself.

Shaking the thought, you turn and walk from the room, quietly latching the door on your way out.

And you wait.

And wait.

By the time Marcus’s bedroom door opens again, you’re nearly frantic with worry. Just the soft sound of the doorknob turning has you jumping to your feet and muting his TV. You watch as he stumbles out, one hand pressed to his forehead and the other steadying himself against the wall.

“How… How long did I sleep?” he asks, face a maelstrom of confusion.

You glance quickly at the clock. “Twenty-five hours.” And seventeen minutes. Not that you were counting.

“What? Jesus…” he mutters.

“How are you feeling?”

“Starving. Like I haven’t had a proper meal in years,” Marcus answers, moving past you into the kitchen, where he starts opening cabinet doors at random, pulling out food items, examining them with a frown, and discarding them on the counter.

“I could, uh, order something?” you suggest warily, watching him go about his task in a whirlwind of movement.

“That’s not necessary,” he answers absentmindedly, staring blankly at a can of pinto beans before putting it on the counter next to a jar of artichoke hearts.

“Well, I’m hungry,” you say, grabbing a takeout menu at random off of Marcus’s fridge with a little more irritation than is warranted. “Shit.” You hiss, jerking your hand back and watching as a sliver of red appears on your thumb, a little bead of blood welling up and threatening to spill out of the newly-created crack.

Before you can blink; before you can even react, before your brain even registers the movement, Marcus is there. With a low, desperate, almost animal sound, he grabs your injured hand and brings it to his mouth.

The taste of you seems to make him moan louder; he greedily licks and sucks at the wound as though he were parched and this small papercut his only oasis.

At the touch of his tongue, or maybe the feel of his saliva, a sudden, inexplicable wave of euphoria washes over you. You gasp softly, watching with open-mouthed shock as he licks and licks and licks until there’s nothing left.

Eventually, Marcus slowly–almost reluctantly–releases your hand and blinks rapidly as though he were waking from a deep sleep all over again.

Whatever spell that seemed to be holding you in place breaks; you jerk your hand back and stare at him in horrified confusion.

“Marcus… what the hell?!”

“S-Sorry,” he offers weakly.

“Have you lost your mind?” You can’t tell if your question is intended rhetorically or not.

“I… I don’t know,” he answers softly. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not a comforting answer,” you say dryly.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Marcus murmurs, quietly enough that you aren’t sure if he intended to speak the words out loud.

“Thinking about what?”

“How I want to– I want–” he begins, but whatever it is he wants, he never manages to say. Rather than finishing the sentence, his hand slowly comes up to–alarmingly–wrap around your neck, his thumb pressing directly on your pulse point. He’s too close; you can feel his rapid, heavy breathing against your face and all you can do is stare up at him, the silent question of what the fuck written in your eyes.

Suddenly, you’re being released and Marcus pushes you away, stepping back from you with an expression of abject horror all over his face.

“Leave,” he commands raggedly. “Please, you have to.”

You shake your head in protest, frowning. “Marcus, you’re not well–”

“LEAVE!” he roars, and you flinch as though he’d slapped you. In all your years as his partner, you’d never heard him yell. You take one more look at him–really looking, taking in his clenched fists, his heaving chest, and the odd, almost inhuman look in his eyes–and obey. Backing away slowly at first, and then increasingly quickly, you flee the kitchen.

Your hand is on his front door when you suddenly come to a halt. No. You can’t. You can’t leave him. You cast your eyes around until they fall on the door to the nearby guest bathroom. With a hissed curse under your breath, you open that door instead, slipping inside and locking it behind you.

For a few moments, all you can hear is the sound of your shaky breathing. Then, footsteps as Marcus approaches. They pause, as though he’s working out what happened. You jump, suppressing a shriek, when a loud thump resonates in the small room before you hear the unmistakable sound of someone sliding down the wall and onto the floor.

The heavy, defeated sigh is audible through the bathroom door.

“I told you to leave,” Marcus remarks sullenly.

“I left the kitchen,” you point out.

The answering silence lets you know what your partner thinks of that response.

“I’m scared,” he admits quietly. “Something’s… not right.”

“I’m here,” you tell him. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Marcus is quiet for so long, you almost begin to wonder if he’d fallen back asleep.

“I can feel you,” he suddenly whispers. “There’s a door between us, but I can feel your pulse like it’s still under my thumb.”

“Wh-what?”

“I can sense it all. Your heartbeat. The blood rushing in your veins. It’s unbearable,” he chokes out, voice breaking on the last word as though he were at the end of his wits.

“I don’t understand what that means,” you admit. “And I’m not gonna lie, that’s freaking me out more than a little bit, but I meant what I said. I’m right here and I’m going to help you, okay?”

“Okay,” Marcus whispers shakily. “I… I appreciate that. You–it–means the world to me. You being here, I mean.”

“Marcus,” you say, your heart pounding even more than it had been, “I–”

Whatever you had planned on saying is interrupted by Marcus’s cell phone.

“It’s Max Phillips,” your partner announces, somehow, after everything, jumping into work mode. “I’ll put it on speaker. This is Pike,” he answers.

“Hey, buddy!” Max’s voice is so cheerful compared to the tense situation you find yourselves in that it feels jarring and almost makes you physically recoil. “How ya feeling?”

“You,” Marcus hisses accusingly. “You did something to me.”

“Oh, that,” Max says dismissively. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Help what,” your partner growls.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Max laughs.

“Stop playing stupid and help us!” you shriek through the bathroom door, completely out of patience and good manners.

You’re greeted by crackling silence on the other end of the call. Then… “She’s… she’s still with you?” For the first time, the careless demeanor seems to have dropped. Max sounds… concerned.

“Not that it’s any of your goddamn business,” you snap, unable to stop the flood of anger now that you’ve released it, “but I was fucking worried about my partner after he left your house acting drugged–”

“Where are you?” Max interrupts. “I’ll come to you. Bring supplies. But she needs to leave. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you shoot back belligerently.

“Your funeral,” Max says, adopting the aloof nonchalance once more. To Marcus, he says, “Text me your address.” Then the line goes dead.

“Are you going to tell him where you live?” you ask skeptically.

“I don’t think I have a choice,” Marcus says quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on with me, but it’s clear that Max does. And if he knows, then maybe he can… stop it, somehow.”

“What did he mean, ‘bring supplies’?” you ask.

“Dunno,” Marcus sighs. “Guess we’re gonna find out.”

You’re forced to listen to Max’s arrival through the safety of the bathroom door.

No sooner than he walks into the apartment, you hear him stop and–is he sniffing the air?

“She’s still here,” he accuses.

“‘She’ can hear you,” you snap.

“She’s in there?” Max asks, sounding indignant. “Behind that flimsy-ass door?”

“It’s not that flimsy…” Marcus begins, but Max cuts him off.

“Pal, I’ve seen newly-turned vampires claw through cinder block walls with their bare hands to get at a food source. You could have ripped that door from its hinges, but here you are–”

“I didn’t want to hurt her,” Marcus interrupts. “I couldn’t fathom it, I– Hang on, did you say ‘vampires’?”

“Yup. Like, y’know, Dracula and all that. Undead. Drinks blood. Vampire.”

“This was a mistake,” Marcus mutters. “You’re clearly insane, and I don’t have time to listen to the bullshit ramblings of a sociopath.”

“Oh, it’s bullshit now, is it?” Max says airily. “You’re going to sit there and tell me you haven’t been sitting there desperately trying to stop yourself from ripping your pretty partner’s delicate little throat wide open and gorging yourself until she’s a withered corpse?”

You can hear Marcus sputtering angrily… but he doesn’t deny Max’s accusation.

“Great. Now, we can continue arguing over semantics and nomenclature while you just get more and more hungry, or you can accept the truth and drink this.”

A zipper–on a backpack, you assume–unzips, and the faint sound of crinkling plastic reaches your ears.

“What the hell is that?” Marcus asks, voicing your question for you.

“B positive. I won’t lie to you, O-neg is where it’s at in terms of flavor and mouthfeel, but beggars can’t be choosers, pretty boy.”

“Are you giving him blood?” you shriek through the door, but no one answers you. Irate, you bang on the wood. “Hello!?”

“He’ll be right with you,” Max says in a sing-song voice. “He’s busy at the moment.”

“Marcus,” you say lowly, “please tell me you are not drinking blood right now.”

“Mmph–so good,” your partner groans through mouthfuls of… something.

“I’m coming out there,” you announce, jumping to your feet.

“Wait,” Max commands, an odd timbre to his voice, and you stop immediately, your hand hovering six inches from the doorknob. “Not until pretty boy here has another pint.”

“Marcus,” you say warily, pressing your palm against the door as if you could somehow feel him through it.

“I’m okay.” And strangely, Marcus’s voice is calmer, more… human… than it’s been since the moment he woke up from his day-long nap. You still don’t trust Max. But Marcus has been your partner for years. You’d trust him with your life–and you find yourself believing him when he says it’s okay.

“One more,” Max says. “O-positive from 2020. Practically a vintage at this point.”

You shudder, imagining your partner with red tinged lips, a trickle of blood running down his chin as he–

“How are you feeling now?” Max asks.

“Better,” Marcus answers. “Can… Can she come out? Is it safe? I won’t… I won’t hurt her?”

“Depends on the vamp,” Max says. “Most newborns I wouldn’t trust within fifty feet of a pulse, but you? You’re an odd one.”

“I’d never hurt her,” Marcus says again. “I’d rather die.”

Max lets out a loud, barking laugh, as if Marcus had just told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “That might be easier said than done,” he chuckles. “But I get the sentiment. Come on out, doll.”

In any other situation, you might have scolded Max for even daring to call you ‘doll,’ but your body is thrumming with anticipation–and a little fear–to see Marcus again.

Carefully, slowly, you unlock the bathroom door and swing it open.

Your gaze–as it usually does–finds Marcus before anything else. He’s sitting on the floor opposite the bathroom, his long legs awkwardly bent in the narrow hallway, with two crumpled blood donation bags laying beside him. He’s staring back, his eyes swimming with apprehension and worry. The strange, animalistic glint you’d seen earlier is completely absent.

Still, you find yourself moving cautiously and deliberately, as though a sudden movement might break this tenuous moment of peace. You carefully sink to your knees, at his level, and extend your hand.

Marcus swallows thickly, watching you. For a few tense moments, he doesn’t move. Then, he shifts–and oh, how you hate yourself for flinching. You try to hide it, but you can tell by the hurt in his eyes that he definitely noticed. Never once taking his eyes off yours, he slowly reaches back until his fingertips are just barely brushing against yours.

You don’t miss how Marcus’s breath catches at your touch. His eyes slip closed for just a moment, and he lets out a shaky exhale.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hey,” he whispers back.

“You scared me.”

“I know. I scared me, too.”

“Is this real?” you whisper, hardly daring to voice the question. “You’re really–?”

“I think I might be,” Marcus says softly. “It’s… it’s the only thing that makes any of this make sense.” He gestures at the two empty blood bags he’d been given by Max.

Max.

In a fury, you round on the other man, grabbing the collar of his stupid-expensive shirt and slamming him against the wall.

“What the shit–” Max exclaims in surprise.

“You did this,” you hiss, pressing against his throat. “You… you made him into this.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Max wheedles, putting his hands up in supplication. “I thought he’d make a really sexy vamp.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” you growl.

“I’d love to see you try,” the man drawls with a lazy smile.

“Hey.” Marcus says softly, putting a hand on your forearm and encouraging you to release Max. “What’s done is done. This isn’t going to help anyone.”

“It’ll help me,” you say dryly, still glaring at Max.

“I can see why you like her,” Max grins.

You shove harder, your other hand coming up to join the first as you take out your anger on the man’s dress shirt. “Here’s an idea. Stop talking about ‘her’ while she’s still in the room.”

Max suddenly sobers, sniffing the air again. “You were bleeding,” he says accusingly. “When?”

“What? No I wasn’t,” you protest. “Well, okay, I got a papercut, but it stopped bleeding ages ago, after–”

“After what,” Max prompts.

“He–” you begin weakly, your eyes flitting quickly to Marcus and then back to Max again.

Max moves you away from him as if you weighed nothing at all, before turning to Marcus with a look of utter disbelief. “You fed from her?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess I did,” Marcus answers slowly. “I… I didn’t really realize what I was doing, I–”

“Did you puncture her skin at all?” Max interrupts. “This is important.”

“No,” you answer for him. “He just… licked it clean, I guess?”

Max stares at Marcus skeptically, then turns to you. “He just licked it,” he repeats.

“And… sorta… sucked?” you add weakly.

“What’s the problem?” Marcus interjects.

“Newly-turned vampires aren’t exactly in control of their bodily functions,” Max explains. “A puncture might mean inadvertently injecting venom into your bloodstream.”

“Which means…?”

“Which means this would have turned into a two-for-one vamp special.”

“He can make me a vampire?”

“How do you think he became one in the first place?”

“I wouldn’t remind me of your role in this too much, if I were you,” you growl at Max.

“...Venom?” Marcus asks, interrupting your standoff.

“It’s got some interesting properties,” Max says with a grin. “Injecting it in its pure form will a vamp create, but the trace amounts in your saliva is what makes feeding fun.”

“Do you ever actually explain yourself?” you ask irritably.

“Let me put it this way. When pretty boy here licked that little papercut of yours, what did you feel?”

You think back to the moment–through the fear, through the unease, back to the sensation of Marcus’s lips and tongue on your skin. Finally.

“It felt… good,” you admit quietly.

“Just good?” Max asks, pouting his lip teasingly.

“Better than good,” you whisper. “It felt like… joy. Like everything was right with the world.”

You risk a glance at Marcus, who is staring at you open-mouthed with an inscrutable expression.

“That’s the venom,” Max says with a shrug. “Creates a feeling of euphoria in small doses. Can also cause spontaneous orgasm.”

Marcus makes a pained choking sound, and Max slaps him on the back. “That’s the fun part.��

“How the hell do you… feed… from someone without accidentally killing them?” Marcus asks.

“Carefully.”

“No shit.”

“I can show you if you want,” Max says lecherously, making a show of sweeping his gaze up and down your body in the most exaggerated way possible.

“I think the fuck not.”

Max guffaws loudly, slapping his knee. “I knew you'd be a good time.”

“He is not your good time,” you interject.

“At least let him speak for himself, princess! Nah, as… interesting… as that could be, I can tell when a guy's unavailable.”

“Oh,” you laugh awkwardly, shaking your head. “He's not–I mean, we're not–”

“We're partners,” Marcus adds helpfully.

“Oh yeah,” Max agrees condescendingly. “For sure. Just partners. Well anyway, apropos of nothing in particular, I wouldn't recommend feeding from anyone you particularly care about for quite some time. Not until you can control yourself.”

“Speaking of,” Marcus says, clearing his throat, “got any more of these?” He holds up one of the empty blood bags.

“No,” Max says indignantly. “I have got some backup supplies, but I wasn't exactly prepared for this situation.”

“What are you talking about? You turned him yourself.”

“No, this situation. The situation where you're here, with your pulse and rushing blood and warm flesh. Your presence would be fucking kryptonite for any new vamp,” Max hisses. “You're a neon sign of temptation. A little hen in a henhouse with a very hard-to-control fox. Had you not been here, two bags would have lasted until pretty boy here could arrange his own supply, but you complicate things.”

“Well, excuse me for making sure he was all right,” you say, placing your hand on Marcus’s arm in a way you hope is comforting.

Marcus murmurs your name softly, but urgently. “Can... Can you… back up? Just a little,” he asks, looking pained.

Eyes widening, you take several hasty steps backward.

“How long will it take you to get more?” you ask, not taking your eyes off of Marcus.

“Any amount of time is too long when you insist on staying here,” Max says.

“It worked out fine the last time,” you point out. “I'll just go back into the bathroom and lock the door again.”

Marcus shakes his head warily. “I–I don't know… Maybe you should leave.”

“Not a chance.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Marcus says softly. “I don't even want the idea of it. Please. You don't know what you–”

“What I… what?”

“What you mean to me,” he confesses, and you could swear time stops. “I could never risk it. I can't… I can't bear the idea of losing you.”

“You won't,” you promise.

“I didn't want this,” he says bitterly, casting an agonized glance at Max, who, for once, has the decency to look regretful. “All I ever wanted was you.”

You feel as though you’d just had the wind knocked out of you, the words affect you so deeply. Resisting the urge to steady yourself on the wall, you fix Marcus with a stare that you hope conveys every single emotion you’ve ever felt for him.

“I'm staying here,” you say. “And that's final.”

Both men shake their heads at the same time.

“What if... what if he uses me?” you ask Max, ignoring Marcus's protest. “You said it's normal to uh… feed off of live humans.”

“I believe I also said it's something he shouldn't even begin to consider until he's out of the newborn phase,” Max says.

“What if he's careful?” you ask. “What if you help him?”

Marcus softly says your name in warning, but you don't back down.

“Whatever I mean to you,” you tell him earnestly, “you mean the same to me. The same and more, Marcus.”

Time seems to come to a standstill as his eyes widen with realization.

“You… You feel the same?” he asks breathlessly.

“For a long time now,” you find yourself admitting.

You watch as a slough of emotions flicker across Marcus’s face–yearning, longing, affection, and regret.

“I… I wish I had known,” he murmurs sorrowfully. “Before now. I’d… God, I’ve imagined this moment so many times, and in none of those times did I ever tell you to back away because I’m worried I’d just as soon kill you as kiss you.”

“I guess you owe me,” you tell him with a little chuckle. “When this is over. When you aren’t hungry anymore. You can drink from me without hurting me, I know it. And Max is here to stop you if you–”

“This is all very cute,” Max drawls, interrupting you, “but okay. Let's say he's careful. Let's say I stick around to help and intervene if he loses control. I want to make sure you understand that this is… intimate, you understand? Like, I'm all for a sexy romp, myself, but I don't know if I stressed the effects of the venom enough before.”

“You mean the uh–”

“Spontaneous orgasms,” Max finishes for you. “Yeah. Wasn't kidding about that.”

“So, what you're saying is–”

“Is that I'm usually all-in for a feeding orgy, but you two have something else going on entirely, and call me a romantic, but I'd rather not get between you.”

“So you do have a conscience,” Marcus deadpans.

“If you tell anyone, I'll deny it.”

Marcus takes a deep breath, and suddenly shudders. “Shit,” he mumbles to himself. “Shit, I feel–”

“Like you’ve been wandering a desert for days on end with no water? Yeah,” Max shrugs. “That wears off, or gets easier to manage, I dunno. But after a while it’ll start to feel more like normal hunger and less like a–” he trails off, waving his hands back and forth.

“Like an all-consuming fire threatening to stamp out every last shred of my humanity?” Marcus fills in wryly.

“Yup,” Max answers. “Something like that.”

“Does it hurt?” you ask softly, reaching out to touch him again.

This time, it’s Marcus’s turn to flinch. He pulls back, eyes widening in alarm and leaving you to wonder whether you really should be this close. But no, your desire to comfort the man you’ve been secretly harboring feelings for for years overrides your sense of personal safety.

Or any kind of sense, whatsoever.

So you persist, running your hand up and down his arm soothingly and watching his eyes flutter shut at the feel of your skin. The expression on his face–agony, yearning, desperation–causes an ache to sink like a stone in your chest.

“Yeah,” he answers with a rough, strained note to his voice. “Yeah, it hurts.”

You look to Max with pleading eyes. “Help him,” you demand. “Help us. It was you who got us into this situation, so if you have any sense of morality left in there, make it stop hurting.”

Max’s eyes flicker dangerously. “As long as you acknowledge what that entails,” he says quietly.

“Blood,” you deadpan (Marcus shudders pitifully again), “I assume.”

The other vampire rolls his eyes. “Sure, right. Fine,” he mutters, scooting closer to you and Marcus. “First lesson. You don’t bite here–” he carefully taps his index finger on your neck. “That’s either gonna get you another vampire, or a corpse. The, uh, thighs–” he clears his throat awkwardly– “are good places to feed, but you’ve gotta be careful about the femoral artery.”

Marcus lets out a pained sound and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes with gritted teeth, rocking slightly back and forth.

“Alright, that’s enough lessons,” Max says brightly. “Good place to start for a newbie is the wrist. So, uh, you’re just going to want to puncture the skin a teeny tiny bit, and drink from that. Less is more, waste not, et cetera, et cetera.”

No sooner than the words leave the other man’s lips, Marcus’s fingers curl around your wrist like a vice grip, and you gasp.

“Jesus, hang on a minute,” Max sighs. “New vamps, always so lacking in table manners. Listen to me–you’re gonna probably lose control and try to take more than what she can give, and I’m going to do everything in my power to restrain you and get her away. Up to and including violence.”

Just as Max’s words leave you wondering whether this is actually a terrible idea and you should have done what Marcus had asked in the beginning and simply left, Marcus’s eyes meet yours again, his expression surprisingly clear-headed.

“I won’t,” he says softly. “I said I’d never hurt you. That’s a promise.”

Solemnly, you nod. “I know,” you tell him. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

You slowly reach toward Marcus with your palm facing upward like an offering. You’re suddenly hyper aware of your heartbeat racing, thrumming loudly and quickly in your chest, and you somehow have the wherewithal to wonder whether Marcus will get more of you as a result.

Marcus cradles your forearm as though it were a precious gift. You can feel the trembling in his hands, see the quiver in his lower lip as he tries to keep all his emotions–the hunger, the fear, the worry–in check.

“Tiny bite,” Max reminds him in a low voice. “Just the tip.”

You shoot him a disparaging look, but when you see the ghost of a smile on Marcus’s face, you realize he successfully broke the tension.

Hesitantly, he lowers his mouth to the delicate skin of your wrist, and just as you’re wondering where the hell the vampire teeth are supposed to be, his face… changes. You do your best to hold in the gasp that threatens to escape; you don’t want to startle the man and risk him accidentally tearing your flesh. He’d put a stake through his heart himself, you muse. Wait–is that a superstition or a fact? You make it a point to ask Max later as you watch Marcus with curiosity. His face, it’s not ugly, exactly, but certainly monstrous. It’s grotesque in the same way the circus can be grotesque–in a way that fascinates you, thrills you, draws you in…

Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp as you feel his teeth sink into you.

The split-second of pain melts immediately to a wave of pleasure like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Every nerve ending seems to tingle, sending a frisson of electricity up and down your spine–again, and again, with every lick of Marcus’s tongue. It’s every good sensation you’ve ever felt condensed into one moment, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if any human has ever become addicted to being vampire food. You wouldn’t blame them.

Soon, though, the fact that a vampire is drinking your blood completely fades, because all you feel is unadulterated euphoria. Euphoria… and Marcus. Now you’re consumed with one thought and one thought only: get closer to Marcus. You scramble into his lap without a second’s hesitation, not hearing the sudden sound of surprise that comes from Max.

Marcus, who had been single-mindedly consumed in his task, looks up in apparent awe as you straddle him. The hand not gently holding your wrist immediately winds around your waist and pulls you even closer. Now that your eyes are locked, you can’t look away. Those beautiful brown eyes that you know so well are flecked with an animalistic yellow-amber, his brow sharper and more pronounced in his monstrous form but still very much Marcus. He holds your gaze as he lathes his tongue across your skin over and over, each lick causing flames of ecstasy to course within you. You can’t look away–not even when he swallows gratefully with red-tinged lips and dives back in for more. You start to squirm in his lap, each little wave of euphoria–a side effect of his venom, you know, but it feels so real–causing warmth to build in your core. Marcus moans around your wrist when he feels you grind against his leg, and you start to whimper every time your clothed center meets the delicious resistance of his thigh muscle.

As your movements become more and more frenzied, so do Marcus’s; he licks and sucks at the little twin puncture wounds with a fervor that could only be described as carnal. Everything starts to pull up tight deep inside you, and you know, you know what’s about to happen–but suddenly, another arm is there pulling you back, away from Marcus, away from this beautiful pleasure unlike anything you’ve felt before and how dare they, you’re so close, you’re so close, soclosesoclosesoclose–

“That’s enough. Enough,” someone is saying behind you. “It’s time to stop.”

Marcus lifts his head, his lips still smeared with your blood and his eyes dazed and glassy. His face, although still contorted into this macabre new form, is open and unguarded as he tries to comprehend the source of the interruption. As Max pulls you away more forcefully, however, Marcus bares his teeth and hisses at the other man in what’s clearly a show of territoriality.

In a split-second, before you can even begin to worry about being in the middle of a fight between two vampires, Marcus regains his wide-eyed, earnest expression, and his exaggerated features seem to melt, giving way to the face you know so well.

“I’m fine,” he promises, chest heaving. “I’m okay. I’m done, I’ve stopped. Please, can–” he swallows, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Can you come back? I just–I need–”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re scrambling back into Marcus’s arms to kiss him with everything you’ve got. He opens to you immediately, his tongue darting out to explore your mouth, and you shudder when you taste the tang of iron. It should disturb you, you think to yourself. The blood, the fangs, the fact that he could kill you at any second. You should find his distorted face horrifying, but you can’t help but be mesmerized by his features in any form.

Marcus’s hands are everywhere–rubbing up and down your spine, gently palming your face, reverently stroking the skin of your wrist as if to apologize for taking what he so desperately needed from you. You sigh contentedly into his mouth as your hands explore him in kind–carding through the hair at the nape of his neck, pressing against the soft muscle of his chest, tenderly tracing the little crease in his brow in an unspoken promise of forgiveness.

You’ve imagined kissing this man so many times, and yet you now know you’ve never once come close to the reality of how it feels to have his lips against yours. It might be cliché, you might be projecting your own desires here, but everything about Marcus’s mouth simply fits, like a puzzle piece. Like recovering a long-lost part of you. Kissing him is coming home.

When Marcus pulls back, you follow him, causing a joyful smile to spread across his face as he whispers, “Are you okay?”

You smile back as you nod.

“Here.” Something orange is thrusted into your field of vision, and you look up to see Max standing awkwardly next to the two of you, still entwined on the floor against the wall of Marcus’s apartment.

You accept the fruit–because it is fruit–and start to messily peel it before popping a slice into your mouth.

“Do you feel dizzy at all? Lightheaded?” Max asks as he watches you chew.

You shake your head. “Nope. Nothing like that. Just… kinda tingly,” you giggle, glancing back at Marcus. “Not in a blood loss way, more like in a um, well. You know.”

Marcus grins and pulls you back down for another soft, chaste kiss.

Pulling back, you give Max a smug look. “Told you he wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I won’t lie, I’m pretty surprised,” the other man replies, frowning slightly. “You don’t have any frame of reference for this, so you’ll just have to take my word for it that this is not normal. New vampires cannot control themselves and kill any living thing they try to feed from. Every time.”

“How many of those new vampires were deeply in love with the person they tried it with?” Marcus asks, meeting your eyes with an ardent gaze.

“Of all the times I’ve dreamed of hearing that from you, I never imagined it would come out quite like that,” you say with a wry smile.

Max makes something like a strained choking noise in his throat, grimacing uncomfortably. “Well kids, this has been fun, but I’m gonna get out of here.”

He sticks out his hand and you accept it, letting him pull you up to standing. Once on your feet, all the blood seems to rush away from your head, and you sway slightly.

“She should lie down,” Max comments, watching you.

Marcus nods in agreement and wordlessly (and effortlessly) lifts you into his arms and moves in the direction of his bedroom.

“Does ‘she’ get a say in this?” you protest, although this time it’s somewhat more good-natured than before.

Your answer is another kiss from Marcus before he gently sets you down on the comforter.

Sitting here, on Marcus’s bed, with him hovering over you, opens up an entirely new set of opportunities. The look in Marcus’s eyes lets you know his thoughts are along the same lines, and when he inhales, his breath catches in his chest.

“I’d caution you against that,” Max says in his characteristic deadpan tone from the doorway. “Really easy to lose control in the heat of the moment, and he’s still hungry.”

“Are you?” you ask Marcus hesitantly, who shrugs and drops his gaze.

“Was trying to be polite about it.”

“I didn’t let him take much,” Max explains. “Far easier to rectify taking too little than too much.”

“Does that mean he could do it again?” you ask, the breathlessness in your voice giving you away immediately.

Marcus is, predictably, the one who quickly tries to shut that idea down, murmuring your name and shaking his head in concern.

“You don’t know how it felt,” you whisper. “I think I’d do it every day if I could.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Marcus answers for what feels like the hundredth time.

“You won’t,” you promise. “And besides, Max will be here just in case.”

The two of you turn to the other vampire, who’s leaning against the doorway with an exaggerated sulk. “Oh sure, let’s ask Max. I’m sure he won’t mind watching you feed in the throes of ecstasy… again. Max has no opinion, Max can manage his own hunger, it’s fine.”

“Done pouting?” Marcus asks pointedly. “I think I’m justified in saying that you fucking owe me one.”

Max glowers, but offers no further protest.

“Is this wrist sore?” Marcus asks you, running one fingertip across your skin. “Should I do the other one?”

You shake your head slowly. “I had somewhere else in mind.” Capturing Marcus’s hand, you guide it downward until it rests on your inner thigh. “Here,” you whisper.

Max makes another garbled noise, which Marcus deliberately ignores. Keeping his eyes fixed on your face, he carefully sinks down onto his knees before you. Carefully, so carefully he unbuttons your pants and draws them down your legs, leaving you in your underwear.

“Fuck, I can’t–” comes the sudden exclamation from the bedroom doorway. “If this is retribution, I guess I deserve it, but still.”

You turn your head to look at Max, who appears to be doubled over in pain, and something pangs in your chest. Marcus, who is still fixated on the crux of your thighs, ignores the interruption.

“Marcus,” you whisper, getting his attention.

“He’s fine,” the man murmurs, clearly distracted.

“He’s hungry,” Max groans pitifully. “I might not be a newborn anymore, but I have feelings.”

“He can wait,” Marcus growls. The words sound slightly slurred, and when you look down again, you can see his fangs already protruding.

Max makes another pathetic whimper as Marcus runs his nose along your upper thigh and inhales greedily. You stop him with a gentle hand carding through his hair.

“Maybe we are being cruel,” you say softly. “He’s been trying to help.”

“He’s not feeding from you,” Marcus insists darkly. The possessiveness seems to make his face transform even more–his brow thickening and his eyes flickering with an eerie yellow glint.

“She’s–she’s yours,” Max agrees weakly. “I know. Just—shit.”

Marcus pauses, his tongue darting out to touch the tip of one elongated canine as though testing their unfamiliar shape.

“Come here,” he commands.

Max frowns, hesitating.

“Before I change my mind.” Turning to you again, Marcus strokes the sensitive skin just below the seam of your underwear. “May I?”

“You might be the politest vampire I’ve ever known,” Max muses to himself as he walks toward the bed with cautious steps.

“Please,” you whisper.

Marcus runs his nose against your thigh again before he lowers his mouth. You feel the sharp sting of his fangs for only a second before a sudden wave of pleasure overtakes you.

Perhaps it’s the change in location–from your wrist to somewhere much more… intimate, but this time the sensation of his venom feels even stronger. So much so, in fact, that everything pulls up tight without warning and you come undone while Marcus’s fangs are still buried within you.

You shriek in surprise, bucking your hips instinctively, but Marcus follows, sealing his lips around your thigh and sucking. Each aftershock makes the wound feel like it’s pulsing, but all you can do is writhe on the bed and whimper as the vampire–the man you love–takes from you.

Suddenly, though, Marcus pulls back, pressing his hand against the twin puncture wounds, which are still bleeding openly. With his mouth clearly full, he fists Max’s shirt collar, pulling him in for a rough kiss. Max makes a shocked noise–you think you do, too–but quickly groans in pleasure as Marcus gives him your blood from his own mouth.

Over and over he repeats the action: gently licking and sucking your thigh as you gasp and squirm under the euphoric influence of his venom, then pulling back to give some to Max before swallowing it himself.

The constant waves of pleasure reach a peak several more times, although you can hardly keep track. The combination of the venom and the blood loss, perhaps, is making you woozy, and you’re already drifting in and out when Max gently tugs Marcus’s hair and draws him back. You hear him say, “That’s probably enough,” before you lose consciousness entirely.

Everything is peaceful. You don’t think you’ve ever slept this deeply or felt relaxation this profound. When your eyes open again some untold amount of time later, you do so with a lazy, serene smile.

You blink lazily, trying to gather your senses and focus on the scene in front of you. You can feel the rise and fall of a strong chest beneath you, comforting arms surrounding you as you lay on Marcus’s bed. You know without looking that it’s him that’s holding you, keeping you safe and protected with his body.

To your surprise, Max–you figured he’d be long gone by now–sits at the bedside, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“She��s awake,” he says to Marcus, who immediately loosens his hold and gently tilts your head back onto his shoulder to look at you.

“Hey,” he says softly, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone. “You scared me a little, there.”

“Told him it was normal,” Max says, with the air of someone who’s said the exact same sentence fifty times already, “and that she wasn’t in any danger.”

“Still,” Marcus fusses gently, scanning your face with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Here,” Max interjects, handing you a small bottle of gatorade and making sure your hands are wrapped around it before pulling back. “Drink this, and once you can sit up, you need to eat a little something.”

You accept the drink gratefully and take greedy sips until the bottle is empty. When it is, Max sets it back on the nightstand and hands you a couple of oreos pilfered from Marcus’s cabinets, and the rest of the orange from before.

“How are you feeling?” Marcus asks–still with a hint of concern in his voice–as you eat.

“Really good, actually,” you answer with a sigh. “That was–listen, not to be weird or anything, but that was… amazing.”

Marcus chuckles low in his chest as Max smirks next to you.

“Can’t say I minded that particular method of feeding,” the other vampire comments wryly. “Might almost be better than from the source.”

Marcus clears his throat awkwardly, and when you glance up at him again, his ears are tinged pink.

“I didn’t know that about you,” you say softly.

Marcus tries to shrug noncommittally, blushing deeper as he does. “I like to keep my private life private.”

“Fair enough.”

“Don’t mind sharing with the people I care about, though,” he adds.

“Awww, he cares about me!” Max simpers with a teasing pout.

“I hate you,” Marcus counters with no conviction or malice behind the words whatsoever.

“No you don’t.”

“I was talking about her, though.”

“And me!”

“Children,” you sigh, shaking your head in exasperation. “I hate to interrupt, but can I trouble one of you bloodsuckers for some juice or something?”

Marcus raises one eyebrow at Max, who salutes sarcastically and marches out of the room.

“I can’t tell if I like him or if I can’t stand him,” you murmur to Marcus when the two of you are alone.

“Makes two of us,” your partner hums, ducking down to kiss your temple.

“Really?” you ask incredulously. “Didn’t look like you minded so much before.”

Marcus huffs quietly. “It was the solution that came to me at the time.”

“Is that all it was?”

He lets out a slow, even breath as he tightens his hold on you. “No.”

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, as Max comes back with a glass of juice and another handful of oreos.

“Maybe later,” Marcus answers, sounding a bit bashful.

“Vampires have super-hearing, you know that–right?” Max comments as he moves back toward the bed.

“Wh–what?” the other man chokes out nervously. “Really?”

“...No.” Max hands you the glass of juice with a deadpan stare.

You try and fail to contain your laughter, snorting as you cover your hand with your mouth to disguise the smile.

“But now I know you were talking about me,” Max purrs, leaning toward the two of you.

“No,” Marcus lies–unconvincingly.

“Pretty boy,” Max chastises with that same childish, teasing pout he’s done before. “I thought so highly of you–don’t tell me you’re in the middle of some silly gay panic right now.”

Marcus snorts. “We’re too old for that, don’t you think?”

“You tell me.” Max’s expression is guarded, but you can tell he’s very invested in the other man’s answer.

“Truth is, I’ve harbored feelings for this one for a long time,” Marcus says affectionately, looking down and brushing his hand up your forehead and over the top of your head. “A long time. And it feels disingenuous to even consider the idea of treading on that, somehow.”

“Right,” Max says, standing up stiffly and quickly. “I’m gonna–”

“Wait.”

The vampire pauses, eyeing the two of you warily.

“In a way, it was you who… brought us together, in a way,” Marcus continues. “In a weird fucking way, I’ll add, but I can’t deny that this day has been… beyond my wildest dreams. And–” he swallows thickly, licking his lips before continuing, “–you were a part of that, for better or for worse.”

You carefully sit up, extricating yourself from Marcus’s arms to lean up and kiss him on the cheek.

“I’m not used to this much attention,” he adds, laughing self-deprecatingly as he shakes his head in apparent bewilderment. “And now I’ve got the two of you looking at me like that, and I’m not sure what to do with myself.”

“Enjoy it,” you tell him with a soft smile. “I love you. Max likes you. Maybe that’s all we need to know right now.”

“He can speak for himself,” Max teases, parroting your earlier words.

You look at him. “Did you really turn him because you thought he was pretty?”

“Can you blame me?”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x reader x max phillips #max phillips #the mentalist #bloodsucking bastards #pedro pascal

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anqelically · 3 months

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IKIGAI | OSAMU DAZAI X FEM!READER

001. THE AZURE APOSTLE

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Y/N and Ranpo return from Kyushu in order to help solve the case of the Azure Apostle. At the agency, the pair meet their newest co-worker— Osamu Dazai

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 2.8K words

SERIES INTRODUCTION | CH2

DIM LIGHTS AND THE SMELL OF RAMEN made the atmosphere feel like home. Conversations among the customers in the ramen shop overlapped each other, so much that the distinct voices blended together. The busy atmosphere was oddly calming...

"Wah, why do babies cry so much?"

...Well, maybe not to everyone.

Y/N Kirino looked up at the man she was working alongside. He rested his chin on top of his palm as his head looked towards the right, a childish pout on his face. Y/N looked in the direction Ranpo Edogawa was looking in to see what he was talking about.

A couple of tables down was a little girl, who was no older than 3 years old, crying. She was amazed that she ignored the wailing until that point. She looked back at Ranpo with an answer to his question earlier in mind.

"Babies and little kids cry for plenty of reasons, but I think that girl burned her tongue by eating whatever was on her plate too soon. She was sticking her tongue out as she cried," Y/N replied before she ate more of her Hakata ramen.

Ranpo took one of his wooden chopsticks and stirred his noodles like a bored child, "She actually tried Sriracha. The bottle was right near her plate."

Bored and grumpy. Those were the two feelings Y/N could practically feel radiating off of Ranpo. She silently observed him as she ate her food. The slight furrow of his brows and the way he left the remains of his food untouched told Natsuo that he didn't want to be there anymore.

"Oniisan," she called for him, "don't tell me that the girl's crying made you lose your appetite."

"Nope!" Ranpo sat up straight and complained, "Why do we have to leave Kyushu early? We just got here! I want to stay, hmph!"

"We can come some other time, Oniisan. I'm sure Fukuzawa-sama would let us if we asked."

"They can just send you the details over text and we could stay."

"I was told that they wanted you nearby in case you were needed again. There are lives on the line in this case, which is also the newcomer's entrance exam. Oh, and we leave for the train tomorrow at 9 o'clock in the morning. If we leave the inn early, we can also go shopping for some snacks you want."

The Armed Detective Agency.

It was a licensed group consisting of almost entirely ability users who worked in Yokohama. They worked on cases that the police or military police couldn't handle either because it was too difficult, or they were already placing their staff's effort elsewhere. Most cases dealt with fellow ability users.

Not every case of theirs is dealt with in Yokohama. That's why Y/N and Ranpo were hours away from home. As members of the small group, they were sent out to Kyushu for a case.

Ranpo was the smartest detective in the agency, probably the smartest in the entire country. He solved many cases with his so-called ability called Ultra Deduction. In a blink of an eye, he'd identify the culprit from the evidence and explain the steps they took to commit the crime, if necessary.

The skill of his played a large part in keeping the agency running. If it weren't for Ranpo, there would've been plenty of cases either left unsolved or solved too late. Y/N picked up on some of the ways he thought as a detective, but it still wasn't near his level at all.

She admired him for it. Although Ultra Deduction was not an actual ability and just Ranpo's innate talent, it didn't make him any less admirable. If anything, it made him greater than an ability user in Y/N's mind. He was proof that an ability wasn’t necessary to be great.

The woman finished her ramen before she and Ranpo left. They checked into their rooms at a local inn after they got some onsen tamago to satisfy the male's stomach.

In order to go shopping as Y/N promised, she and Ranpo had to wake up early. Y/N was peacefully sleeping on her futon until a loud slam awoke her. Actually, she was sure that it woke up some of the people in the rooms nearby as well.

Y/N tiredly rubbed her eyes before looking up at the figure that stood by her side. It wasn't shocking for her to see Ranpo standing with his hands on his hips. It reminded her of how Ranpo used to wake her up for late-night snack runs when she lived with Akiko Yosano, her older sister figure and co-worker, while he was sleeping over.

"What time is it?" she croaked, sitting up.

He replied, "Time for you to get up! We got 3 hours until we leave, starting right now. Come on, I want to eat soufflé pancakes!"

Y/N knew better than to keep someone like Ranpo waiting. She got ready as quickly as possible before they checked out of the inn. Her hair blew with the breeze that passed.

"Hey, Oniisan," Y/N called for Ranpo during breakfast.

He licked the whipped cream at his lips, "Hm?"

"What do you think he's like? The new member," she inquired.

"Doesn't matter to me!" He took another bite before he continued, "I'm the better detective in the end. Nobody can match my Ultra Deduction."

'He's definitely still grumpy we're leaving early'

"Kunikida-san told me that 'He's a suicidal child in a grown man's body.' I wasn't sure what to say after that."

"Well then, don't go having a crush on him too like you did with Kunikida, N/N-chan."

The woman immediately cringed, "You said you wouldn't bring that up again! I don't even want to think about that." She buried her face in her hands after thinking about her past feelings.

Doppo Kunikida, another colleague of theirs in the agency, was quite a professional man. He heavily believed in his ideals and was determined to follow them.

Y/N was sure of the two reasons why she initially developed a crush on Kunikida. The first was how organized he was with his life. Kunikida had plans and the resolve to see them through. He worked hard for morals that she also abided by.

The second reason? Y/N was simply surrounded by family figures until she met Kunikida. Y/N lived in her family's estate until she was 16. After she was saved by the Armed Detective Agency, they became her family. Ranpo, Yosano, and Yukichi Fukuzawa were not only years older than her, but there was only room for familial bonds.

So since Y/N was drawn to his demeanor and didn't see him as a brother figure, she developed a crush. 3 months passed before she stopped seeing him that way.

"Well then, don't go having a crush on him too like you did with Kunikida, N/N-chan."

Y/N glanced out the window, "I'm used to other people's presence in my daily life now. I won't fall for him like how I did with Kunikida."

She'd fall much harder.

| 生きがい |

Y/N GOES ABOUT HER DAILY LIFE with a list of tasks to do. Although the days are different, the things on her to-do list for work continue to stay the same. She was not as strict about her schedule as Kunikida was, however. While he had every hour planned with something to do, all of it written in his small book, Y/N had a short list engraved in her mind.

-Get drinks for everyone before going to work

-Make sure Ranpo has snacks at his desk before he comes in (which is a bit late)

-Check any e-mails sent to the ADA

-Hand in any finished paperwork from everybody to Kunikida towards the end of the day

The list was not long or complicated, but it wasn't always completed by the end of every day. Urgent cases or cases far away were the main reasons that these errands would sometimes remain undone. The case Y/N followed Ranpo to Kyushu for was an example.

They returned to Yokohama about 3 hours before sunset, Y/N unable to do anything on her to-do list. The case of the Azure Messenger was too important to deal with. A bomb was planted somewhere in Yokohama, set to blow up and kill over a hundred people at sunset, and almost every worker had their minds running in circles until Ranpo made his appearance. They were sure that he would find out where it was the moment Kunikida and the new recruit returned with the files they were fetching.

Hell, Ranpo could probably deduce possible areas for the bomb without the files.

So Y/N sat at her desk, reading over what had happened so far. The news, written reports, and accounts from some of the workers here, Y/N wanted to be caught up to every detail. She spent about 30 minutes reviewing and theorizing before Ranpo asked her what she thought.

Ever since she started working at the agency, Y/N tried to challenge her ways of thinking. Ranpo helped her by handing her old cases that were already solved and letting her solve them with all the evidence provided. It was routine for her to explain her thinking to him.

"Well, I think it's safe to cross out major buildings. If those buildings exploded, it would take down many more in the process. The message they sent made it seem like they weren't aiming for victims exceeding... let's say three hundred people. Exploding towers and nearby buildings would kill way more than that."

Ranpo hummed, "Then what place would it be in? If it's not a major building, where is our bomb?"

Y/N leaned back in her chair, "If the bomb isn't found in time, people will probably blame the agency again. These crimes seem to be trying to make us look bad, so far. So if I were a bomber, I'd bomb some place with victims that have done absolutely nothing wrong. A popular park is a place I'd bomb, if it weren't a school... That's really dark of me, isn't it?"

"Kinda is. Final answer?"

"Yup, is it right?"

"Just wait and see, N/N-chan~ They'll be here in 5 seconds.”

Y/N was confused until she saw the door to the office open in her peripheral vision. 5 seconds later, to be exact. The first one to walk inside was Kunikida, who seemed relieved at the sight of Ranpo. Slowly trailing behind him was the man she'd never met before.

"Oh, Ranpo-san! How did the case in Kyushu go?" Kunikida greeted. He pushed up rectangle-shaped glasses with his finger.

"That? Took me one look at the body before figuring out who it was," He took another sip of his soda. "We heard what happened, Kunikida-Kun. Everyone's been running in circles over some little bomb, huh? I really wish my colleagues could take care of themselves sometimes. You know, I didn't get to slack off in Kyushu thanks to you. N/N-chan saved me from being completely bored there."

"Kirino?"

"Right here," Y/N popped up beside Ranpo's desk with a wave. "I was looking at everything that's happened so far before you walked in. It's quite a case we've got here."

"Yeah, and we've got to figure out where this bomb is, and we need help."

"That's why I'm here to help you out! After all, Ultra Deduction is the greatest skill in the world, so coming to me for help is only natural!" With a laugh, Ranpo patted Kunikida on the shoulder.

The blond wholeheartedly agreed. This, in turn, made Dazai finally speak up. "K-Kunikida, are you okay? You don't have to hold it in," he timidly said.

The glasses-wearing ability user only gave him a blank look. Y/N, on the other hand, found herself admiring Dazai's features. For someone her age, his face was devilishly handsome. Peaking through his bangs, Dazai's chocolate-colored eyes met hers.

"Dazai, give Kirino the files."

He held out the papers they'd gotten but retracted them the moment Y/N held her hands out to grab them. Dazai, instead of handing over the files, tucked them under his arm before he took a couple of steps closer. He clasped Y/N's hands with his own, their eye contact never breaking.

"If I'd known a beauty like you was hiding in the agency, I would've come to join sooner," he smiled at her, feigning innocence as Y/N's cheeks heated up. "A wonderful, young woman like you should partner up with a charming, equally young man like- GWUAH!"

Abruptly, Kunikida punched Dazai down on his head. Both Y/N and Ranpo watched the brunet get angrily pulled back by the blond.

The idealist scolded, "Do you seriously have no shame!? Kirino is your senior as a worker here, so don't go flirting with her at first sight! There is a time and place for-"

"Are you saying that because she crosses off a couple of requirements on your list?" Dazai smirked.

"Huh!?"

"Oh, come on~! I've just met this Kirino-chan and I can tell! She looks polite, well-mannered, organized, someone that'll always fight for what's right-"

"Dazai," Kunikida glared.

It was an interesting dynamic to watch, to be honest.

"What's going on out here? You guys are awfully noisy," a feminine voice joined.

Everyone glanced to the side to see the agency's doctor outside the infirmary's door. Yosano's heels clicked as she walked towards Y/N. Her arm draped over the younger one's shoulders as she stared at Kunikida.

"So hey, what's this list Dazai was talking about, Kunikida? Last time I checked, listing attributes about Y/N had nothing to do with the bomb," Yosano interrogated.

They all stared at the woman.

"Oneesan's right," Y/N spoke up. "Lives are on the line with the bomb. Dazai-san, may I have the files?"

"Right, of course. Dazai Osamu, by the way. Nice to meet the both of you, Kirino-chan and Ranpo-san." He got up from the floor and handed Y/N the files.

"So, newbie," Ranpo called out to Dazai, momentarily forgetting his name. "Uh... Dazai, was it? Where did you work prior to coming here?"

Thus, an awkward, short conversation occurred between the two. Ranpo had asked Dazai what he was doing before the agency, to which he replied that he was merely roaming around. It was an awfully convenient excuse for someone who had no information in the police database's records.

The pair had a short staredown before Ranpo moved back to check over the papers Y/N and Yosano had laid out. He digested the information before he put on his black-framed glasses. Dazai stepped behind him to watch closer.

Ranpo's bright green eyes sharpened before he supposedly activated his ability. He set his glasses on his desk, "I've got it."

"Wait, seriously?" Dazai held his breath.

"N/N-chan," Ranpo pointed at the bookshelf, "get the map for me?"

"Of course," she turned around to get the map on the bookshelf behind her. She spread it out over the papers.

"The bomb is..." everyone else leaned closer to the map in anticipation. Ranpo then lightly pressed his finger on top of the map, "...right here. The bomb was set up in this fishing-gear shop."

"Then I guess my theory of it being a popular park was wrong," Y/N commented. She didn't dare to say anything about what Dazai did.

Amazed, he urged Kunikida out of the agency by pulling his sleeve. Ranpo remarked that Dazai was simply amazed by his ability, but the two women present knew otherwise.

Osamu Dazai figured out that Ranpo Edogawa was not an ability user.

The moment the senior detective activated his "ability", Dazai held a piece of his hair from behind. His ability nullifies the effects of any ability he touches, so Ranpo shouldn't have been able to figure out where the bomb was if Ultra Deduction was an actual ability.

"He didn't seem like the type to be that amazed, but I get it," Y/N murmured.

Ranpo, however, caught onto her words, "He should be amazed! Ultra Deduction is the best ability out there for cases."

Yosano patted her co-worker on the shoulder, "Of course it is. What would the Armed Detective Agency be without you solving many cases for us?"

"We just have to hope that they disable the bomb in time," Y/N began to fold the map. She asked Ranpo, "Do you think they'll make it in time?"

The oldest of the trio only sat back on his desk's chair, "I know they will."

WRITTEN: 01/02/2023

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

first fic i’m bringing to tumblr!! i hope you guys enjoy it, and any reblogs will be greatly appreciated <33 ily guys mwah

@seneon @chuuyrr @kentopedia @cloudwisp

#୨୧ [ ikigai ]#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #bsd #bungou stray dogs

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emmalily · 3 months

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So I've been watching this show called Rosemary & Thyme about two middle aged women who work as professional gardeners/solve crime and I swear. It's so early 2000s down to the ...whatever the f/f version of bromance is.

I mean they u-haul it from the jump! They know each other all of 48 hours (ish? Not sure) and decide to go into business together despite having just met.

There's a lot of exposition done in bedrooms that conveniently always have double beds like it's 1940 & we can't possibly show a couple in the same bed, it would /imply/ things.

There's an episode with a shitty homophobic cop who implies they're an item and both women get angry with him in turn but never actually deny anything.

Both women get hit on/asked out by different men (& it's kind of gratifying to see two women in their mid 50s still getting attention like that) but in the end, they always turn down the would-be suitor for a life of traveling around in an ancient Range Rover, digging up weeds with one another instead.

(also love that Pam Ferris who played the butchest butch to ever butch aka Miss Trunchbull is the femme in the relationship)

It's extremely silly and the plots aren't all that great but it's fun to watch a detective show that features two women who are obviously a couple.

#rosemary & thyme #Rosemary Boxer #Laura Thyme

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xxstraymoonchildxx · 5 months

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This Couple is unusual

Synopsis: You and Satan are currently hyper-fixating on the human world’s Victorian-era and True Crime. Since your birthday is coming up, you ask Barbatos for a special gift - a trip to Old London to find out the culprit behind the Jack the Ripper case. Who would have thought you’d met one Hell of a Butler? (Kuroshitsuji x Obey Me! Crossover)

Prologue

cw: none

You and Satan sat hurdled together in his room, a book in each of your hands. It was quiet, only your calm breathing and the occasional rustling of a page being turned filled the room. It was pleasant. The other brothers knew better than to bother you two when engaging in your weekly reading session, only Lucifer forced the both of you to eat when lunch or dinner was ready. The two of you were currently inhaling the Sherlock Holmes series from the human realm and after finishing the current edition you’d usually engage in various discussions. Occasionally, Simeon was part of your little book club, being a writer himself, but he was sometimes unavailable when Lord Diavolo called for meetings and such.

“Did you know that they never solved a famous murder case in England in the 1800s?” You threw the question into the room when both of you closed your editions at nearly the same time. “Huh, I think I’ve heard about them. Jack the Ripper, if I’m remembering correctly”

You hummed “Right, it’s one of the most popular serial killer cases that is still unsolved. Victims were all women, prostitutes to be exact and they were mutilated from the inside, really nasty if you ask me.”

Satan nodded curtly “Some humans are definitely up to par with our kind regarding violence and brutality.”

“True, true. Still, I am strangely fascinated by that mystery. Makes me want to travel back in time to solve it.”

A pause.

Satan’s lips curved upwards, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well, I think there could be a way. If we can manage to persuade a certain demon that is.”

“Not fair, I wanna go, too!” Mammon hollared, glaring daggers at his blond younger brother. Satan, joined by Belphegor, rolled his eyes at his antics. “Lololol, Mammon’s being desperate again” Leviathan snickered while the others decided to ignore the Avatar of Greed’s tantrum altogether. Everyone knew he was interested in swiping up valuable items from the past to sell as authentic antiques in the present and being jealous on top of that.

“Sorry Mammon,” you tried to calm him with a soothing tone “We do something together when we come back, okay? I’ll even bring souvenirs for everyone~”

“You better,” Mammon huffed and pouted, cheeks dusting pink from your cute expression.

“Don’t forget to wear the outfits I picked out for your trip!” The avatar of lust chimed in “And make lots of cute pictures!”

“Will do, Asmo.”

Satan huffed, growing agitated by the minute “We should take our leave”

“Satan,” Lucifer stepped closer, signaling his brother to step aside for a private talk while you were being encircled by the other five “I entrust that you protect her from any harm. You know how careless she can get.” Satan mentally huffed, glaring at his brother “I’m very much capable. She’s safe with me,” Lucifer nodded, unaffected by the harsh tone. “Good, come back safely”

“Don’t need to tell me that”

You left the House of Lamentation, each of you carrying a large suitcase, and headed over to the demon lord's castle, leaving a bunch of disappointed brothers behind.

On your way, you ran into Simeon and Luke who were on their way back to Purgatory Hall. They greeted you two; Luke gave you a tight hug as well. “Simeon told me you’re about to go to the past in the human world, is that true?”

“Yep, we want to do some hands-on research. We won’t be gone for long, so please don’t be worried about us”

“I’m not worried,” Luke denied with a blush (he was). “Of course you don’t have to be, I’m with her as well” Satan chimed in with a smirk. Simeon chuckled “I must admit, I am a bit jealous. It sounds like quite the adventure. I can’t wait to hear about your experience.” Luke let go of you “Uh-huh. Me too! Simeon told me the 1800s are a bit dangerous, so please accept my blessing!”

“I thought you weren’t worried, Luke,” Simeon said with a chuckle. The child’s cheeks burn brightly “S-still. Just to be safe! Better safe than sorry, right?”

“That is kind of you. I make sure to bring you a gift.”

His eyes sparkled and his smile widened. Then he closed his eyes, muttering a blessing. A colorful light engulfed you and you felt suddenly very light and warm inside.

“Stay safe you two!”

Barbatos greeted you near the entrance, standing proudly in the entrance area; looking fiendishly handsome like always.

“I was awaiting you, please follow me” He led the two of you through the majestic golden Hall down to a familiar room. You went there back in your first year when you had to prevent Belphegor from killing you (You prefer not to think about it)

“Diavolo sends his best regards but he is currently buried in work and is unable to leave his office” You don’t doubt it was thanks to Barbatos but didn’t comment on it. “We appreciate him thinking about us,” Satan stated and you nodded in agreement. “Thank you again for my early birthday gift, you’re the best” The butler smiled with closed eyes “Don’t forget the rare tea leaves for my payment. And try to not make too much of a mess” You feigned a gasp “I would never!”

“Are you ready?” Barbatos opened a portal in a mirror.

Satan met your gaze, a soft smile on his lips as he grabbed your hand.

“Let’s go!”

Alright, so what do we think?

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winterchimez · 4 months

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Nightmare Before Christmas | Kevin Moon

SUMMARY: your uncle has always been a crime and supernatural fan and would often plan fun little games for your family to solve before Boxing Day. However, things have taken a turn this year as never would you and your friendly neighbour Kevin imagined that the both of you would actually have to solve a decades-old murder case, and eventually finding out the culprit behind all of this was someone much closer than you have expected.

PAIRING: neighbour!Kevin x f!reader

GENRE: horror, thriller, supernatural, crime, angst, some fluff

WARNINGS: nc-17, mentions about dead bodies & severed body parts (nothing too gory though dw!!), missing person case, haunted house, mentions of blood, supernatural (ghosts, black mass), yn's descriptive nightmare (about the ghost-like character she would often see in the past), kissing, betrayal, dual personalities, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

WORD COUNT: 4,465

A/N: so this was supposed to be released on the 25th....but we will pretend that never happened 🫡 massive thankiew to @from-izzy for beta reading and giving me tons of ideas (and just giving me the support bcs i was so done and upset with everything bjasnjsdn) tagging the kevin enthusiast aka @hyungseos-cafe for this 👀✨

“Sissy, wake up!”

You were jolted awake by your little brother, who was violently shaking your entire body as you groaned in annoyance and lifted your bedsheets above your head in hopes that he would leave you alone. But you have forgotten that he was a wild and energetic fourteen-year-old teenager, and there was no way he was giving up that easily.

As your brother pulled your bedsheet off you, your eyes squinted, and you were about to curse at him out loud before he eventually beat you to it.

“It’s Christmas Eve, sissy! Uncle Ben has already left a note on the dining table, and we must start before the clock strikes midnight!” Your brother announced out loud before running out of your room back to the living room downstairs.

You sighed before pinching your eyebrows together, trying to make sense of your surroundings and what your brother had told you moments before.

It was that time of the year for your annual family tradition. Your uncle has always been into supernatural and playing detective. He would often devise a different scenario where he would get you and your siblings to solve the puzzles or cases before you would eventually earn a Christmas present from him. He had a different scenario in mind every year and was full of ideas to ensure each year stood out.

Not only were your siblings encouraged to participate in the hunt, but he would also get your neighbour next door to experience every year, and he had done so for the past decade.

Your best friend, Kevin Moon.

It was a joy to have him aboard, especially when he had the wits and brains to help crack and solve most puzzle pieces or clues in your uncle’s little game each year. Because of that, your uncle has taken a liking to him, eventually pairing you guys up, often thinking that you both would end up great as a couple.

Which isn’t something you were totally against if you were to be completely honest.

You liked him a lot, and he has been your best friend throughout middle school up till university. He has always been someone you could always count on and gave you the support you needed.

You just weren’t sure if you liked him more than just a friend at this point.

Trying to shake away all of the unnecessary thoughts, you quickly rushed down to your dining hall to find the letter that your uncle always left on the table the night before when all of you were asleep. However, you froze as you saw that your brother was already holding one in his hands, reading it internally while another was left on the table.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that uncle made two separate invitation cards and that on the table is specifically just for you and Kevin-hyung next door,” your brother said half-heartedly before he walked out with his invitation, getting ready to get all geared up before heading out the door. You suspected Uncle Ben had probably given him some scavenger hunt games again, given the looks of your brother’s outfit and the big shovel he had just brought out the door seconds ago.

As you diverted your attention back to the invitation card on the table, you slowly picked it up before opening the envelope and pulling up the letter tucked within.

Oh, Uncle Ben, what exactly have you plotted for us this Christmas?

“Your uncle must be nuts going all out for Christmas this year. He must’ve been itching to get this year’s theme out as soon as possible, don’t you think?” Kevin questioned you while chuckling at the side, trying his best to hide his uneasiness.

But that was when you didn’t respond and quietly began looking for clues; that was when Kevin knew that it probably wasn’t a joke this time.

“There’s no actual dead bodies, right, Y/N?”

When you quickly skimmed through the entire letter, your eyes widened at the envelope's contents. You wasted no time and hurriedly scurried out the door to Kevin right next door. With a few knocks, your best friend was out with a hot mug of cocoa, with his hair slightly ruffled, indicating that he had just woken up not too long ago. His eyes widened as he did not expect you to be on his doorstep this early in the day, and he was a bit embarrassed with how he looked.

Deep down, you wanted to tell him how he looked absolutely adorable and how you would snuggle up on the couch with him for the holiday seasons, but there was no way you would admit you had a crush on him just yet.

Shaking off your initial thoughts, you quickly redirect your attention back to the envelope, trying to fill Kevin in with all your uncle wrote on the invitation. He had the same initial response that you had, thinking that this was all some sort of sick joke. All while he was getting ready by changing his pyjamas into a cosy sweater sufficient to last till the destination, you couldn’t help but spare a few glances back at him a few times to take a sneaky little peak at his toned body.

He worked really hard during the summer anyway, and you have seen how he basically went from being all skinny and slim to being toned and bulky within the span of half a year, and you couldn’t stop ogling at the sight whenever you saw a little skin from him.

But again, you would not admit that to him just yet.

As soon as he was ready to go, you both took the pathway down to the written location as the sky quickly turned dark due to the winter season. By the time you both arrived at the entrance of the abandoned house, you needed to grab the torchlight hidden within your sweater and turn it on to navigate the place.

As you both opened the front door with an awful creak, you were met with nothing but complete darkness. The power lights were completely cut off so there was no chance of even having a little bit of electricity within the premises.

There was this eerie feeling in the air that neither of you could describe; it almost felt like a little haunted house, as much as you did not want to admit it. But given the details that Uncle Ben has written in the envelope, that spooky and sinister feeling you’ve had was valid, and it would probably remain this way until the both of you could crack the case open.

“To answer your question, Kevin, I really hope we won’t be stumbling upon any dead bodies too. It’s the Christmas holidays, goddamit,” you spat, still thinking that Uncle Ben was totally out of his mind with this whole dilemma that was going on right now.

“Well, we’ve lived in this neighbour for a good decade now, and never in my life have I heard about a Madam Nee Nee residing in a house right at the end of the road and was actually murdered without a trace,” Kevin replied worriedly, thinking that this whole situation is slowly getting much creepier by the minute.

As much as you wanted to agree with the male, you have heard something or two about Madam Nee Nee through your uncle’s stories. All you knew about her was that she was the one who would often bake cupcakes for the children across the streets and would pass them to Uncle Ben so that all of you were able to get your hands on them every Christmas.

Those cupcakes were indeed one of the best you have ever tried in your entire life; they were not too sweet and were just enough to fit everyone’s liking and taste buds. It seemed as if Madam Nee Nee knew exactly what each child’s favourite television show was as she would make an effort to pipe and decorate each cupcake exactly as each character looked. You would often get your favourite Tinker Bell design, and she would alternate between the different fairies each year, while your younger brother often got his favourite DC superheroes.

But there was only one problem: you had actually never met the baker herself, and each time you tried to bring it up, your Uncle Ben would often tell you that she was too busy delivering the goodies to the other children out of town.

In other words, you didn’t really know if you could trust Uncle Ben’s words on whether such an individual really existed and if this whole murder case was actually a reality or not.

Regardless, you were not going to get anywhere if neither of you was going to make progress in solving the riddles that your uncle had made specifically for you two, adding onto the fact that you really did want to get your hands on the presents as your uncle always knew exactly what you liked.

Hence, you and Kevin moved forward and deeper into the house as you both tried to see where or what could potentially help you both get a kick start on the investigation. Suddenly, the doors behind you both slammed shut with a loud thud, and you both were now in complete darkness, heavily relying on the torchlight you brought to navigate the house.

“We’re really doing this right, Y/N?” Kevin asked as he grabbed your wrist to drag you closer to him, making sure that you both stuck together, especially in the given circumstances. Not going to lie, your heart skipped a beat with that sudden gesture of his, and you prayed that he was unable to hear that loud thumping noise coming from your chest, given how silent the whole place was, to the point that you were able to hear a pin drop if there ever was one.

“Y-Yeah… to face Uncle Ben and get our hands on the gift. And besides, we could always have a little fun mystery for the holiday season.”

After ten minutes, you both arrived at the house's second floor. You both tried your best to scavenge through the bottom floor, but there wasn’t much you found that could potentially help with the investigation.

So here you both were, slowly taking your steps up the old wooden stairs that creaked with every single step, making the uncomfortable feeling you have had since stepping into the house a lot worse than before.

Thankfully, Kevin stuck close to you and took the lead in front, where you naturally held onto his sweater from behind, which caused him to turn behind for a second and offer his hand to you instead. You stared at him blankly at first, blinking your eyes a few times to see if you weren’t hallucinating, but he eventually linked his hands with yours and pulled you slightly forward.

You were thankful that the electricity was out in the entire house, and Kevin held onto the torchlight and shone the pathway in front of him instead; you definitely did not need the male to know how red and flushed your face was right now.

As you both moved forward, you eventually stepped onto something firm and hard, causing you to stop in your tracks, nudging Kevin’s elbow to shine the light directly onto your feet.

You truly wished you hadn’t done that at all.

A severed hand was situated right below your new pair of white shoes, and a little blood splatter was visible around the corners of your shoes. You immediately screamed and took a little jump back, causing you to cower into Kevin’s arms immediately. His eyes widened at the sight, and he tried his best to calm you down by rubbing your back with one of his hands while the other continued to shine the torchlight all around the room.

And there it was: another severed hand, located close to what used to be the fireplace.

“Th-This must be a joke…” Kevin muttered, not wanting to accept reality and thinking, ‘this was all a dream.’

It couldn’t be real.

There haven’t been any reported murder cases around town for the last thirty years. In fact, your town has been regarded as one of the safest in the state for the past decades, and it is also known as the best town to reside in. Whatever situation you both were in now must be wholly made up by your uncle, who was always full of surprises.

…right?

That was until Kevin redirected the light source towards the fireplace above, where there were clearly a few picture frames damaged through time or by someone. As you both began moving closer to examine them, you noticed they all had one thing in common.

All of them had the same person cut out from the pictures themselves.

Three picture frames stood above the fireplace, each depicting a family of five smiling brightly as if the world was free from all sorts of nightmares and misery. At least it was before. Something must have happened for whoever removed the person in question from the pictures—perhaps it must’ve been a bad memory for them, or that person is probably no longer associated with them.

You slowly moved close enough for you to be able to examine it well, gently wiping off the dust from each frame with your thumbs to see who exactly was the family in the old pictures. You didn’t recognise them at first until you squinted your eyes and saw the famous signature on the bottom right of each frame.

It belonged to the Jamaisons; the very first family that moved into this town many years ago.

From what you have heard about the tales from your uncle, they were the ones to be grateful for as they built up and raised the town's reputation as it is known today. Their family have since then lived for generations, constantly passing down their legacy for years until the last heir passed on without a successor ten years ago.

As everyone has been told, the very first generation of the Jamaisons was a family of four: a dotting father, a loving mother, and a set of twins. But then, who was the mysterious missing cut-out person from the pictures? Did they have another sibling they have kept secret for years, and nobody knew about them? And if yes, why did they do that?

Countless questions are pondered within your mind, and you can’t help but want to dig much deeper to discover the truth.

“Kevin…how much do you know about the Jamaisons?”

“As much as they have taught us in the textbooks. Why?”

“I have a bad feeling about this…” You muttered, slowly showing and telling Kevin about the missing person from each picture.

His eyes widened too, and you could tell he had the same thoughts as you.

“You don’t mean…”

“I really hope it isn’t true. Why would Uncle Ben even want us to meddle with their history if it was? Does he think we were detectives that could solve a potential murder case that was decades old?” You questioned, tugging his arm around you even tighter.

He pondered for a bit before answering. “Why not? I have always wanted to go to an actual crime scene.”

“Kevin Moon, this is serious,” you firmly reminded him.

He sighed before giving you a little smile back. “I know, Y/N. Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out then.”

Along with your friendly little neighbour, you both begin scouring through the bookshelves, hoping to find any potential records that could prove that they had someone else in the original line-up of the family.

However, all of your luck was pointless as there was zero to no evidence proving that the missing person from the pictures existed. It was as if the family themselves had erased whoever it was to the best of their abilities.

You groaned as you ran your fingers through your hair. “Ugh, I guess we’re back at square one again.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you,” Kevin responded, which caused you to turn your head towards him to see that he was pointing towards the empty room across the room, where the door slowly creaked open.

You were sure that the doors were closed tight when you both made your way up an hour ago, and now you were witnessing the door slowly pry open by seemingly nothing.

Oh hell, there is no way ghosts are real.

“Do not say the g-word, I swear,” you immediately placed one of your fingers directly onto Kevin’s lips, preventing him from saying it out loud.

“Not until we go check it, Y/N.”

“Can we just…not…”

“I think you know what the answer to that is.”

You rolled your eyeballs at Kevin’s words; you knew there was no way you both were leaving this place until you found the answers to the case. Without a choice, you reluctantly allowed Kevin to drag you along step-by-step as you both got closer towards the room.

If you were in an actual horror movie, you were pretty sure there would be creepy and high-pitched violin sounds playing in the background right now. The siren by your ear was beginning to resonate aloud, causing you to have a slight headache while you were trying your best not to shit your pants at this point.

As you were a step right before entering the room, your grip against Kevin’s arm tightened, giving him the signal that you were having second thoughts and would gladly dash right out of the house right now. But he returned a little rub on your palms with his, telling you that everything would be alright and that he was here with you.

With one final gulp and nod, you both took that long-awaited step into the room, when you were met with your worst nightmare.

You have never told anyone about how your deepest and darkest fear was about how you once had this dream where a black mass consisted of a white face with a lipped mouth paired with large black eyes used to lurk at the corners of your room watching you sleep. You eventually got terrified to the point that you would think about it all day, which then interfered with your daily routine.

And it was the same nightmare that stood right in front of you, slowly expanding as it crept nearer towards you both as if it was going to swallow you up as a whole.

“No…please don’t…” You whimpered.

Before you could even think straight, the huge mass eventually engulfed Kevin, and he was gone within a second. Just like that, the mass turned in your direction, approaching you slowly as you took a few steps back each time.

With one final huff from the mass, it quickly expanded one last time before jumping right onto you, slowly dissolving your entire body and turning it into the mass just like it was.

You were helpless, and you eventually felt your entire body go numb as if it was all over and done for.

Before you were taken over by darkness, you slowly peered your eyes upon the doors, noticing a bright white figure approaching you before everything was a blur.

“Sissy! SISSY WAKE UP!!”

You immediately jolted awake with that scream coming from the side of your ear, drenched in sweat, and your eyes widened as you tried to calm your fast breathing down.

“Whatever the nightmare you have been having since last night, it must have been a wild one I must say,” your brother responded as he slowly grabbed a cloth to wipe your sweat away.

“N-Nightmare? What are you talking about?”

“Do you really not remember anything at all? You have been sleeping for the entire day yesterday! You have been tossing and turning in your sleep, mumbling incoherent words as you broke out in sweat.”

What? That can’t be.

You slowly looked down to see your hands trembling before moving them to your face, trying to take in everything your brother had just told you.

“What about the scavenger hunt, then?”

“Scavenger hunt? You mean Uncle Ben’s?”

“Y-Yeah…what happened to it?”

“Well, you were in bed for the entire day and wouldn’t wake up, so you actually missed the whole thing,” he bluntly replied.

That can’t be true. You remembered walking down to the kitchen table and grabbing the envelope placed neatly on the dining table, which shocked you as you read the contents.

“Uncle Ben came up to check on you, though; he said it was fine to let you continue to sleep since you were probably exhausted with finals.”

No…this is just not making sense at all.

Wait.

“Kevin! Where’s Kevin?!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as you grabbed your brother’s shoulders, shaking them vigorously.

Your brother stared at you as if a ghost had possessed you because the next thing that happened was that you immediately jumped out from your bed and dashed towards the front door.

You speed ran through your open gates right towards your neighbour’s front porch, banging on the door, not caring if you were creating a scene. You needed to know if he was doing alright and in one piece.

After a few seconds, the doorknob eventually turned and the door was opened. There stood your best friend, exactly like he was the day before when you went up to him to talk about the strange envelope Uncle Ben had left specifically just for you both.

Well, supposedly, at least.

It wasn’t unusual for you to come banging at Kevin’s door in the middle of the day, as you have done it multiple times. What he did not expect was that you would immediately dive into his embrace and begin sobbing into his sweater.

“Y-Y/N? What’s wrong? What happened?”

You couldn’t even give him a proper answer as your tears poured profusely. You were glad to see that he was fine, still in one piece and unharmed.

“Thank God…THANK GOD KEVIN!!!!”

You were not budging an inch, and Kevin only did what he knew was best at the moment, returning the hug and slowly caressing your back as if to calm you down. He eventually rested his lips on your head, leaving you little kiss.

After what seemed like a couple of minutes resting in his embrace, you eventually pulled away and cupped his face with your palms, gently caressing his cheek as you looked at him lovingly.

“Kevin…promise me…you’re never leaving my sight again.”

He chuckled. “Why would I? Y/N, you know I would never—”

“Please, a little pinky promise?” You begged, and Kevin could never resist that little puppy doe eyes you have.

He smiled before he eventually leaned down and connected your lips with his. Your eyes widened upon the contact before you eventually eased into the kiss seconds later, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

When you both eventually broke off for some air, there was this surge of adrenaline within you, and you felt your face heat up quickly, causing you to duck your head down as you cupped both cheeks to cover up the redness away from the man.

Kevin could only laugh at that little sight. “Come on, Y/N. It’s not like I have not seen your iconic red-flushed-tomato-like face before.”

“It’s not iconic, and whatever that was wasn’t necessary at all,” you pouted.

He took a few moments just admiring how you looked before leaning down and resting his palm on your head. “That kiss is a promise that I’ll always be yours.”

“Even stronger than a pinky promise?”

“Absolutely.”

With that, you reconnected your lips with his warm ones again, trying to savour them as best as possible before leaning your forehead against his.

“Oh, Kevin. You truly are the best thing that has happened to me during Christmas this year.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered by that?” He teased.

You sulked for a bit before slapping him on the arm. “Obviously, silly.”

With a deep huff, you stretched out your arms before wrapping them back around Kevin’s arm, trying to drag him out of his house and head straight towards yours instead for a cup of hot cocoa.

“Say, why don’t we go find Uncle Ben? I’m sure he might have some other tricks to keep us occupied until unboxing night.”

As you tried your best to pull Kevin with you, you were stunned by him standing still at the front of your doorstep, staring at you with a straight face.

“Kevin? Is everything alright?”

There was this odd ten-second silence before Kevin eventually spoke up, which actually sent chills down your spine.

“I’m afraid that Uncle Ben will not be coming anytime soon, sweetheart.”

Within a swift motion, Kevin pulled you vigorously back into his embrace, locking you tight with his arms. You then noticed how his demeanour began to change and was completely different from before.

You began to panic, shivering even, as you looked into his now-turning hollow eyes.

“W-What are you talking about?”

“That little nightmare you had was a reality, princess. Your little Uncle Ben has been trying his best to warn you all these years, and who would’ve thought he would actually get you to head towards the murder site yourself to crack open the case.”

“K-Kevin…you’re scaring me…” you began pushing yourself away, but it seemed that his grip had then gotten a lot tighter, which was when you began to feel the pain that was slowly travelling across your whole body.

“Let me tell you a little story, Y/N. A long time ago, a certain group used to think Christmas was all sparkly and bright. But what if I told you that things would never be the same? That the people around them now think that Christmas is a nightmare. After all, a sparkly Christmas can only happen if there is a drop of blood, right? I think that’s enough for you to figure things out, no?”

It was. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew exactly what he meant.

Not only was Kevin your Christmas, but he was also your Nightmare.

Just like that, he slowly began leaning down as he pushed your hair on your shoulders towards the other side, leaving a clear opening for him to start rubbing your sensitive skin as he leaned down slowly to the point that his lips brushed against them.

“From now on, I’ll always be your Nightmare Before Christmas.”

A/N: a lil belated spooky Christmas to yall 😚

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hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds · 10 months

Note

BAU x teen!fem!reader where she is Rossi's niece who had moved in with him a couple years ago. The team is at a new bar that has been trending after returning for a case and Rossi is the only one not present. The team sees reader dancing with her friends and know she lied to Rossi as he had been talking about her having a movie night and sleepover at a friend's house. They scold her and take her home, making her confess what she did to Rossi.

-✨

BAU Team x Niece!Rossi!Reader

Request : BAU x teen!fem!reader where she is Rossi's niece who had moved in with him a couple years ago. The team is at a new bar that has been trending after returning for a case and Rossi is the only one not present. The team sees reader dancing with her friends and know she lied to Rossi as he had been talking about her having a movie night and sleepover at a friend's house. They scold her and take her home, making her confess what she did to Rossi.

I love this idea!

Third person pov...

The BAU team had been summoned to investigate a case within a small town in the country. After a few days of lifting prints, following leads, and interviewing suspects, the team was finally able to narrow down the suspect. Exhausted from the long and gruelling case but satisfied with the progress they had made, Garcia decided to suggest they visit the new bar that had been buzzing around town.

Hotch nodded his agreement and the team left in glee, finally able to get away from crime scene after crime scene. As they arrived, they immediately noticed how busy the bar seemed to be; everyone it seemed was in some kind of a good mood.

After they had been seating around a table for some time, the team noticed something peculiar; Rossi wasn't there. When Hotch asked where he had gone they suddenly remembered that Rossi had mentioned that his niece had a sleepover at a friend's house and was going to the movies that night.

Little did he know, Y/N wasn't at Sally's house. In fact, she had lied to him about where she would be spending the evening.

It had been years since Rossi's niece had come to stay with him. She had been having a tough time since her parents had died in a horrible accident when she was 12, so Rossi had taken her in. He had treated her like his own daughter, Taking care of her had become his priority and he often kept an eye on her, not wanting her to get into too much trouble and the team had all grown to care for her like their own family.

Penelope soon came back with a tray of drinks for everyone who cheered. "to solving another case and making it home" said Hotch, they all clink there drinks together smiles on their faces. "whoop go team!" exclaims Emily they all drink.

For the next few hours they have fun drinking and talking, JJ eventually drifted away to the other side where she saw two people playing darts, Emily followed her leaving Penelope and the men.

Penelope then dragged Derek to the dance floor leaving Hotch and Reid, the genius was happy to sit and read at the table, Hotch was finishing of his drink when he heard a familiar voice in the crowd of dancers.

"Hey lets get a drink" called a young female voice, the agent searched the crowd and saw someone who definitely shouldn't be there. 16 year old Y/N Rossi. She was in the middle of the dance floor, showing off her moves with a group of friends with a drink in her hand definitely not where she was supposed to be.

Hotch knew immediately what had happened. Kayla had lied to Rossi—pretending to have a movie night and sleepover at a friend's house—but instead she had snuck out to go to the bar. As Hotch was frozen Spencer realised and looked up.

When he saw his boss frozen in place he looked to where Hotch was looking and saw Y/N, he then motioned to Derek and Penelope, who then went of to find the girls. "whats up?" yells Emily over the noise, the others were confused as to why they were called back.

"it is a case? Hotch?" asks Derek this made Hotch snap out of his daze. "there isn't a case, but look over there" he yelled over the noise, Penelope, Derek, JJ and Emily all look to where Hotch was pointing.

Their mouths open in shock. "what on earth!" exclaimed Penelope while Emily and Derek were celebrating just surprised to see the usually well behaved Y/N Rossi dancing in a bar.

The team moved quickly. They didn't want to cause any trouble at the bar, and were sure Y/N had just done something foolish, so they quietly but firmly sent Derek over. The man then surprised the teen by throwing her over his shoulder.

"Hey! Derek!" exclaimed Y/N surprised to see one of her Uncles team members at the bar, she was then taken to where the rest of the team was and stood in front of Hotch the man had a disappointing look directed at her.

Y/N seemed to shrink under the glare "shiittt this wont end well will it?" she questioned making Hotch glare more, she sighs and looks at the floor "sorry Hotch, just take me home already" she says knowing her fate, Hotch then nods and Y/N is taken to one of the cars the team used to drive to the bar.

They drove her to her uncle's house. As soon as they arrived, before she could even open the door, Rossi was there waiting for her. His stern face, enough to make Mia instantly regret her decision to lie. One of the team had called the Italian ahead and told him what happened.

He took her into the living room and the BAU team respectfully stayed outside and gave them some privacy. Rossi then had a serious conversation with Y/N, letting her know that it was wrong of her to lie to him in the first place as well as the dangers that lurk in the night.

Y/N listened and apologized sincerely and vowed to never lie to her uncle again.

From then on, Rossi started to pay more attention to Y/N and the friends she hung out with in order to protect her from the potential of getting into trouble

The next day, as the team prepared to go out on a new case, Rossi was finally ready to join them. He had a big smile on his face and the team had the impression Rossi and Y/N had had a good talk.

Rossi gave Y/N a a big hug before he left and the team knew Rossi was more than just her uncle—he was a loving guardian.

The team was glad Rossi had had another chance to prove just how much he cared about her. And from now on, Y/N knew she could always talk to Rossi—even when it came to making her own decisions.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, sorry for grammar and spelling mistakes

Request are open!

Word count: 1150

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #x daughter!reader #david rossi #uncle niece fluff #david rossi x niece reader #bar #x teen!reader #bau x teen!reader

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 6 months

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Gay wrongs tournament, round 1 of the minor bracket

Propaganda:

For Dean Cain and Herbert West:

They are bit less of murder husbands, and more corpse desecration husbands. Homoeroticism in the service of science! and spitting in the face of nature!

For Charn and Tinn:

look what sold me on watching the show was all the gifs I saw of Charn looking like the most batshit insane evil babygirl of all time even though he's like a lawyer. and he's an arsonist. before I started the show I saw this gif of Charn pointing a gun at Tinn and biting his lip like he's a fuckboy and I knew that this show was for me

Tinn is a grieving uncle trying to get justice for his niece's death at the hands of a powerful politician. Charn is, in his own words, just a cute little lawyer :3 Sure, Charn burned down Tinn's house, slandered his name, and destroyed an entire village in revenge. But hey! He was only working with the opposition for like, a week. He's on Tinn's side now! It's good to have a smart, slightly evil lawyer in your corner. And in your bed. And possibly also your hotel room. They work together to solve crimes... kinda. Mostly, they just cause them.

#minor bracket round 1 #laws of attraction #reanimator #re animator #charn #tinn #herbert west #dean cain #laws of attraction the series #tinncharn

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jesuisici33 · 4 months

Text

Fuck it Friday

tagged by @daffi-990 @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela

really saying fuck it, by posting snippets from two wips! first is from you have my heart, and the second one is from a new wip i started based on the current book i'm reading, thank you for listening, in which buck and eddie are romance novel audiobook narrators.

Hen walks over to Bobby, who seems tired and exhausted over the whole ordeal. She doesn’t blame him. Bobby always seems so good at keeping it together, the man deserves to let go of his mask once everyone is gone. However once he sees her, the smile slips back on. She shakes her head, letting him know it’s okay to be human with her. “It’s been a long day, Cap. I’m just glad this one ended happily for everyone this time.” He nods at that. Bobby gets up, meaning to head for the fire truck. Hen reaches a hand to stop him. “I wanted to let you know. I noticed – Chimney and I noticed – something. Something we think you should know.” Closing her eyes, she musters up the courage to say what Chimney and she silently agreed on between themselves. She told Chimney about Buck a little before he came back out of the house, and she was there as Chimney took care of Eddie’s vitals. They had to keep Buck from being in the ambulance bay as they checked Eddie over during that portion. “Neither Buck or Eddie have their hearts.” Bobby takes a breath at that information. “I see,” he says after a moment of silence. “Cap?” Hen searches his face, which has turned to his Captain Face. All blank and void of emotion as if he’s assessing a critical scene. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” Bobby meets her gaze. He’s exhausted, and clearly wants to go home to Athena. Hen feels the same way. Wants to go home and bring Denny into her and Karen’s bed so she can cuddle with him like when he was a toddler. “I’m thinking…that they’ll tell us when they’re ready. And when they are, I’m going to have a bitch of a time filling out new paperwork.” Bobby claps her on the back and lets her drive home that night. Hen can’t say he isn’t right. They technically don’t know how long Buck and Eddie have had each other’s hearts. However, she hopes Bobby isn’t making the wrong decision of letting those boys take their time to tell the 118. After all, despite how tired she is, she does have money on them telling them they’re a couple soon.

Second snippet under the cut.

Buck looks up from his book to greet everyone when he stops in his tracks. Already there’s someone recording in the booth. In his booth.

He ignores the glares and eyerolls from Bobby, Hen, Chimney, and…Athena? She doesn’t often come to Buck’s recording sessions. Only to quickly see her husband and check how well their employees are doing. With Bobby primarily in charge of the romance side of things, Athena is primarily in charge of the mysteries and thriller novels. Buck’s sister, Maddie likes to narrate those types of books. Her speciality being ones where the female lead solves the crime.

Buck watches as this new guy continues reading from something that sounds like a Western. A Texan accent easily slips through his lips. “‘As I watch Thomas carefully set his blanket down on the ground, wiping away any wrinkles to make sure it’s nice and neat, I can’t help but remember how sheltered this man is. Sure, he’s had a few tumbles getting through the mountains, but to his core, Thomas is a city boy meant to go back into polite and humble society. Once I get him back to his family, that’s where we part ways.’”

He’s…fine, Buck grumbles. Hen turns to him, a smirk on her lips. He must have made some sort of noise for her to be looking at him like that. Buck quickly morphs his features into a smile, although from her widening grin, he doesn’t think he pulls it off.

Keeping quiet, he whispers to Bobby, “Who is this guy?”

“Eddie Diaz, new narrator. Athena finally convinced him to join us. Been trying to get him to join the 118 for months.”

Buck’s eyes widened in shock. Eddie Diaz? He’s practically as famous as Buck in the romance genre. Buck’s been guilty of looking himself up in the audiobook romance spaces, and saw that time and time again, he and Eddie tended to be neck and neck on the most popular male narrator. With both women and men swooning over their voices. The last poll he saw, he lost by one percentage point to Eddie thanks to his latest book having an impressive amount of dirty talk. (Buck’s not bitter about it. He swears he’s not.)

“What do we need him for?” Everyone laughs as if Buck has told a joke. He didn’t. Buck already has to deal with Eddie stealing his thunder on the internet, he doesn’t need to deal with the same thing at work. Buck worked hard on getting where he is. Soon, Eddie will be taking book deals that should be going to Buck and Buck will be right where he was when he started at this record company. He’s not going to let that happen.

“I’m going to be another half hour with Eddie, Buck. If you want you can listen, or you can wait outside for your time to record,” Bobby tells him. Buck considers it. He’s heard some of Eddie’s narration before, however getting to see how Bobby directs him this last half hour would be beneficial to see just where he lands now that he knows there’s competition.

“Yeah, alright.” He plops down on the couch next to Athena. He sees she’s got a copy of what he assumes is the book Eddie is narrating. The cover depicts two men on it – one dressed as a cowboy and the other in a Victorian suit. Buck files the name of the novel to find it later on his Kindle. Meanwhile, he listens to Eddie read to everyone in the booth.

the book Eddie is reading from is completely made up, sorry! tagging @hippolotamus @malewifediaz @911-on-abc @loserdiaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @liminalmemories21 @apothecarose @mammameesh @rmd-writes @wandering-night19 @rosedavid @alrightbuckaroo @carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @eowon @pirrusstuff @your-catfish-friend @theotherbuckley @aroeddiediaz @ramonaflow @spotsandsocks

#your have my heart wip #buddie audiobook narrators wip

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

Text

The Waiting Game

Alex Cabot x reader Req'd by anon. Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, hurt, angst. For the sake of what happens we're basing this early seasons Alex, it may be a little ooc, but whatever, we're going with it. Just under 2k words.

You’d been watching hot wax drip down the side of the candle into its holder for what felt like hours. Then again, you’d had time to slowly sip through two and a half glasses of wine so maybe it had been hours, you’d been avoiding looking at the time. Waiting on Alex was nothing new, while she was known to be punctual, having her schedule down to a perfectly timed dance, there were often steps that she fumbled, or completely forgot. It seemed like tonight you were one of those steps.

You’d waited at the hostess stand, thinking maybe she was just running late, caught on the subway or something. Eventually your reservation time had come and gone, the hostess letting you know if they didn’t seat you, they would have to give away your table. You’d been dreaming of dinner at River Café for months, the waitlist was huge so there was no missing tonight, at least, not for you. Fifteen minutes passed your reservation time you buckled and ordered a glass of wine, feeling bad every time the server came over, though you could feel the awkward sympathy wafting off her with each interaction. Forty minutes after that you’d gotten another glass of wine and guilted yourself into ordering a gnocchi appetizer, you were starting to feel terrible for holding up a table in the girl’s section.

As you watched another trail of wax drip down the candle in front of you, the flame flickered before snuffing itself out and you felt the tears burning their way into your eyes, knowing that wasn’t the only thing with an expired shelf life tonight. The server came by once more, asking if you wanted a fresh glass of wine and you felt that terrible feeling surge through you once again, you both knew that she’d be making a much larger tip off a couple at your table, one who was probably waiting in the lobby. The self pity morphed into anger as you asked for the cheque, it wasn’t your fault, Alex’s not showing up was what caused this entire awkward situation. And by now, you were done waiting.

Part of you wasn’t surprised at all when you unlocked your shared apartment to find it dark. You’d originally been hoping that moving in together would help solve the problem of Alex never being around. You knew she was busy, that her work required a lot of having dinner interrupted, calls in the middle of the night, or court days going into overtime. But if you lived together she could be doing that paperwork on the couch while you cooked dinner, you’d get the hours of at least eight pm to seven am together. The mundane tasks of everyday life would be brightened by the other’s existence in the shared space rather than trying to find time to meet up during the week only for Alex to have to shift it around three times before her schedule finally calmed down. Instead the apartment was just as dark and cold as your entire relationship felt at the moment.

You stepped out of your heels, hanging up your coat and plopped the to go bag down onto the kitchen island before you moved through the space, flicking on a couple of lights and grabbing a cardigan from over the back of the couch. You poured yourself a glass of wine, settling in at the island. While you weren’t really hungry, the waitress had taken pity on you when you asked for the untouched gnocchi to be packed up and had thrown in a free slice of cake. Solidarity between those who had been stood up. At least someone was looking out for you.

A glass and a half of wine later and you finally heard keys clinking in the lock, the door swinging open a moment later and Alex finally graced you with her presence.

“Hey.” She greeted, a small, tired smile on her cheeks while she slid out of her coat, her bag finding a home on the small table in the entrance.

“Were you stuck at a crime scene?”

“No. No new cases all week, I was getting ahead on paperwork when Liz came by with a couple of law journals for the Henderson case.”

“When does that one go to trial again?” You asked, exhaustion seeping through your body.

“God, with the way his lawyer’s pushing motion after motion probably not for months.”

You pushed away from the island, expertly avoiding her embrace as you moved past her toward the hallway, “wow. I think I would’ve preferred you be cheating on me.”

“What?” Her brow furrowed, her brain finally catching up to realize that something was wrong, there was more going on than just her coming home late. “Why are you so dressed up? Did I miss something?”

“Clearly nothing important!” Your voice raised as you disappeared into the bedroom, hastily tearing the dress and fancy clothing off your body, to replace it with leggings and a tee, pulling a hoodie on top of it all. “Would it kill you to look at a fucking calendar for once? You were the one who wanted it colour coded so you wouldn’t miss things!”

Alex’s head swivelled to look at the fridge, her heart sinking into her stomach as her eyes swept over the last two weeks. There were more than two notes written in pink that she’d completely missed, no wonder you were upset.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, turning back your way as you re-entered the main part of the apartment, “work’s just been a bit hectic this week.”

“Don’t start. For the love of God. You just said you were getting ahead on paperwork and your next trial isn’t for months.”

“Where is this coming from?” Her hand reached out to grab your forearm and it took all your power to not shove away from her, “you don’t act like this…. One dinner and one movie night. I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”

“You don’t get to tell me how I act.” You took a shaky breath, “because you’re never here Alex! You barely even know who I am anymore! I ‘don’t act like this’ because every time you miss a date, are late coming home or maybe you’re physically here but you’re mentally not I just let it slide. Because it’s always work!”

“So you’d rather me be cheating than have a heavy work load?” She fired back and you huffed, so she had heard that after all.

“Honestly?!” You raised a brow, “yeah, yeah I would. Because then I would know what to do. But instead you’re not here because you’re off saving the world, putting rapists behind bars, holding victims hands while they panic over testifying. I can’t even remember the last time you actually held my hand.”

“I can’t help that I have a demanding job!” Alex could feel her blood beginning to boil now, to her, this was coming out of nowhere. You’d always been good at talking your issues out, especially when it came to each other, she’d already had a long week and it was only Wednesday. She was frustrated with defence attorneys, judges turning down motions, she was tired. She’d been looking forward to a quiet night, a nice glass of wine to wind down with but instead you were getting up in her face.

“That you chose, I know. But you also chose to have a girlfriend Alex, or have you forgotten that? Because I’m starting to feel like you have.”

“I always come home to you.” She protested and you rolled your eyes with a groan, which riled her up even more.

“You come home here because these are the apartment keys you have.” You shook your head, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, “I’m just an extra body in the apartment, the weight on the opposite side of the bed that you’ve gotten used to. And I’m fucking sick of it. You didn’t just work late tonight, you completely forgot about dinner, about me, left me feeling like an idiot in a fancy restaurant and it wasn’t the first time you’ve done so. You make me feel insignificant. Isn’t your significant other supposed to be important, a crucial part of your life? But you, you’ll run off at any hour of the day, any hour of the night to go be the highly esteemed, important big girl lawyer that needs to save the entire world. You’re not a fucking super hero. You ever think of that? Ever think that maybe an actual human being who you claim to love, should come before your fucking career?”

“Did it ever occur to you that nothing is more important than my career?” She was pissed now, sure she’d been frustrated before but you were doing nothing but dig into her, your words sharper the longer you went on, “you’re acting like a fucking child!”

“So that makes me insignificant? Your job really means more to you?”

“Nothing! Not even you!” The words slipped from her lips before she’d really thought about what she was saying. That maybe now was the time for a proper, full meaning apology, that the right kind of words could solve this. She needed to be on your side, understand where you were coming from, talk things out strategically, right now she was just going for blood.

But she’d said it.

She couldn’t take it back.

Even if she wanted to, she probably wouldn’t, because in that moment she realized it was true. Not specifically trained on you, but she did value her career over everything else. It was why she let it consume every ounce of her life. She had to prove she was good, capable, that she could do anything she put her mind to.

The room froze. Your head was spinning. You’d never expected Alex to just go out there and admit it, but here she was, apparently all it took was a little bit of push back from you. Maybe you should have had this fight earlier.

“Wow…” You whispered, slowly stepping back from her in the direction of the door, “that’s cold. Even from you.”

“Sweetheart…”

“No!” You yelled, “you said what you meant and you meant what you said.”

“We can try and fix this….”

“We’re way passed that point by now. You’re married to your job, just accept that. And maybe lead with that point for anyone in the future, let them know they’re not going to be anything more than a side piece because we all know what you actually care about.” Two more steps and you were scooping up your bag, hand on the door handle, “goodbye Alex.”

Your final words to her were whispered, knowing if you tried to say it any louder she would hear the shake in your voice, that you wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. You needed to at least make it to the elevator, you refused to let her see you cry, refused to be tricked into her embrace. You would break, the warmth of her arms fooling you into a false sense that something like this would never happen again when you knew within a matter of days it would. You needed to stand your ground.

Alex watched the door swing shut, the gust of air from it poofing through the room, a wave of coolness following it and she shivered. The moment you stepped out of the apartment you’d taken all the warmth with you and she suddenly realized exactly what you’d been saying. She’d become so adjusted to having you silently around it was as if you were as inanimate as the glow of light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the warmth seeping from your side of the bed to hers.

No matter how long she waited, the heat never kicked in, the apartment had never felt so cold.

__________________

@mickey-gomez @naturalxselection @cabotfan42 @giftedchildturns40 @detective-giggles @red1culous @melindawarnersgf @beccabarba @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl @svushots @mspetey @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @gaylorrds @venablemayfairgoode @whimsicallymad @screenee @mysticfalls01 @littlegaybabe @bumblebear30 @jamiethetrans @ssaic-jareau @wosoimagines @solemnnova @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @momlifebehard @borg-queer @poisonedcrowns @anlin2058 @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @somethingimaginative17 @summergeezburr @alexxavicry @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @alcabots @7thavenger @disneyfan624 @msvenablesbitch @kdaghayy @thisisraes

#alex cabot #alex cabot x reader #law and order svu #alexandra cabot #law and order special vicimts unit #svu

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