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tae-cup · 4 years

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The Analyst | Night Terrors (2)

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Summary: The prestigious department of police and investigations in Seoul, Korea, is called to the small town of Cape Springs in rural California. Nothing is quite what it seems here.

Warnings: Blood, violence, you know crime stuff? Fluffy stuff somehow

Genre: Mystery, Crime, Angst, a lil humor, sexual innuendos, BUT I S W E AR DON’T WRITE SMUT OKAY

Word Count: 8k Words (they just keep getting longer omg)

A/N: Let me know your thoughts! Any suspects? Just message me if you want to be tagged!

Thank you so much to @kingbewwy for helping with my story planning and ideas!!

Beautiful header by the wonderful @dnrequests

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You were leaving class, head down, trying to stay out of the way of the students in front of you. Blending into the background was something that you wanted, but you also couldn’t hide your passion for forensic analysis. The entire process fascinated you, plus it was a job that had you easily disappearing from the public eye. You were taking biochemistry, toxicology, and criminal justice to bolster your dreams.

It was a normal day. Normal as it could be for you, anyway. You were currently interning at the local police station on a work study permit. You would go and observe how things worked in your free time, often shadowing the forensic analyst of the team. Jae-hwa was an older man with years of experience, yet no cases to use that experience on. The man would often grumble about the slowness of the town as he showed you how to work the equipment.

Today, you made your way to the station, shoulders drooping under the weight of your backpack.

“Y/N!” Your mentor called. “Come here, we want to introduce you to somebody.”

“Okay?” You dropped your bag in the office lounge and made your way to where you could hear his voice. He stood, a younger man next to him.

“This is Namjoon, he’s interning here as well now.”

You smiled warmly, Namjoon did the same. He had dimples, which you couldn’t help thinking were adorable.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N, I hope we work well together.” You held out your hand and he shook it. His grip was firm, but not tight.

“Nice to meet you as well, and same to you.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement. He seemed cool, calm, and collected. He would make a great police chief. If it weren’t for that hair.You thought to yourself. His bright blue hair might be a little too...funky?

“I’ll let you two get acquainted.” The forensic autopsy technician passed you some money. “Here, go out to lunch or something.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I can pay.” You smiled, offering the cash back to him. You may be a broke college student, but you still refused handouts. The man sighed.

“Just take it, Y/N.” Then he left.

There was an awkward silence as you and the other intern stared at each other. He swallowed, you blinked a couple times. Finally, you cleared your throat.

“I guess we should get going, then I’ll show you around the station.” You announced, headed towards the exit. The blue haired male snapped out of his daze and raced after you.

“So what brings you here?” You asked, turning the corner and scanning the street before quickly crossing the road.

“You just jaywalked.” He brushed past your question. For some reason, his tone made you feel as if you’d just been convicted of murder. Your eyes darted around the block before turning to face him.

“And you have bright blue hair. Don’t point out the obvious. Besides, I don’t see any cops. What are you going to do, arrest me?” You rolled your eyes.

“My hair is perfectly fine- it was just a stupid dare, and anyway aren’t you supposed to be representing the station?”

“It’s not like I’m wearing a uniform or holding a sign screaming that I intern at the police department.” You pursed your lips. Why did he make you so nervous?

“Maybe not, but I am about to be a police chief.” He raised an eyebrow.

Your face went pale.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m assembling the best of the best to create Bangtan Police Department. We’re going to take the police world by storm.” His chest puffed slightly in pride. You only laughed, watching his expression deflate.

“Namjoon you are hilarious. You’re so young. Just get through this internship and think over it again.” You patted his arm and continued walking down the street. He gaped, once again having to catch up to you.

“Excuse me, I’m sure you’re actually younger than me! And it’s true, it’s going to be great!”

“What are you going to do? Call out every person who jaywalks?” A small smile slid onto your face. He was not as amused.

“I’m going to help with solving murder cases, cold cases, help the poor, anything.”

“Uh huh.” You opened the door to the cafe. “Got any people in mind?”

“I have a couple friends. Yoongi is already known as a top notch investigator and he’s training a rookie named Taehyung, but they’re on board with joining.”

“Min Yoongi? The person who helped solve the murders of Hyun and In-sun?” You tilted your head in interest.

The murders of Hyun and In-sun were a famous case in Korea. The case itself was filled with weird holes and inconsistencies, along with the fact that the local police had been bribed. In the end, the case had gone cold until Min Yoongi came in and solved it within a month. It was...extraordinary. There was something different in the way that man’s mind worked.

“Yeah!” Namjoon nodded enthusiastically. “My father trained him.”

You narrowed your eyes, not believing his story.

“Okay, okay, who else?”

“Well, my second in command will be my long term partner and friend, Kim Seokjin. He’s a reasonable man with experience in the field as a police officer and investigative reporter.”

“Interesting, continue.”

The drinks arrived, condensation dripping off the glasses.

“Well, that’s all I have so far. I’m planning on recruiting more once we get more well known.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Okay, let me get this straight, lover boy.” You ignored his flushed his face at the nickname you just appointed. “You have four people and you want to start the world’s best investigative slash police team.”

“Yes.” He said, his voice softer and you could tell he was losing his energy. “But I still need an analyst.” He gave you a pointed look.

With a sigh, you studied the man. He had potential, he just needed to cultivate it. With a little growing and pushing, he’d make a great police chief. You sipped your water, mulling over the idea. It was definitely enticing, to offer yourself to him once you were done with your studies, but he was looking for the best of the best.

“You should ask Mr. Jae-hwa.” You decided.

“Who?”

“My mentor. Surely he introduced himself.”

“Well yeah, I remember him I-” He sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, he’s your mentor, right? So why don’t you just...join?”

“I’m inexperienced.” You frowned. “I’ve only been an intern for a year and studying for two.”

“Once you graduate.” He amended. “I think we’d work well together.”

You chuckled, thinking over the opportunity. It was a risk. Every police department was looking for a good forensic analyst, you could find a good job at an established department if you wanted. Still, the offer he was giving you was enticing. Being partners with him didn’t even seem so bad. Namjoon had a hunger inside him. A hunger to prove himself and you could see him going the distance. You picked up your menu, a little smile gracing your lips. You shook your head with amusement.

“You’re too hungry, Namjoon.”

You had been busy. You were already working on several cases and had traveled out to Daegu to personally investigate a case. It was about a head found in a car, the body found a few days later in a house. There was lots of blood. You placed the cotton swab into a tube and sealed it up to test later. Then you maneuvered around the crime scene, trying to avoid all the police doing their jobs. You had a habit of trying to shrink, to stay out of everyone’s way as much as possible.

That’s when Namjoon called you. You frowned. Isn’t he in America? You glanced at the time. 4:15 P.M. You sighed, picking it up. Typical, for him to call in the middle of the night.

“Namjoon, why the fuck are you calling me? You know I’m busy, as I said, you could just send your samples to the forensic analyst back at Bangtan….are you doubting my team’s capabilities?” You scoffed at his urgent tone. “There’s no reason for an ‘on site’ analyst.”

You put him onto speaker phone and stepped into your car.

“Yeah, we also have murders over here, what makes you so special?”

“And here I remembered you being so nice.” His muffled voice came through the speaker.

“Excuse me! I am nice! I just don’t enjoy being pulled away, I have an important job to do here too.” You complained to him, indicating and turning left.

“Please!” A new voice came through the phone, audio cracking and popping from bad connection.

“Taehyung, is that you?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “The connection is so poor here.” You glanced at your samples.

You could send these to your team and join Namjoon and the others. It had been a little under a week since you last saw them and your skin was just itching to be near them again. Perhaps it was a silly little crush, or crushes if you factored in the fact that there were seven of them. You didn’t think it possible, but here you were, pining after seven of your coworkers.

“Fine!” You cried over their voices shouting into the phone. You parked in front of your hotel. You were already clearing your schedule and arranging for the samples to be sent to your team of analysts. “I’ll be there in two days, just please grab some blood swabs for me.” You huffed, hanging up.

You pressed your forehead to the wheel of the car, a sigh escaping your lips as you pressed your eyes shut. These boys were already giving you a headache and you weren’t even with them yet.

Two days later, a Tuesday, you set your bags down in the empty lobby of the Cape Springs police station. You arrived like the plague doctor, briefcase and everything, the fading sun behind you. The dust made you want to sneeze, your nose scrunching up as you fought the urge. You decided to go straight to the police station, y’know, for funsies; and also to surprise them. The hard suitcase that held your equipment was in hand as you sneakily made your way through the building.

You could hear the murmur of their voices and you turned right down a short hallway. There was an open door that led to a conference room with a large round table. Eight chairs were pulled up, one empty, a ninth chair in the corner occupied by a small looking girl. She was eagerly taking notes of the conversation.

“Once Y/N arrives, we can finally look over the samples. My best guess is Rohypnol but you never know, it could be something less traceable, like oxygen injected into the bloodstream.” Namjoon declared.

“But we’ve never found any discarded needles, that seems nonsensical.” Jimin pointed out.

“Rohypnol is a good guess, based on the reports you sent in.” You leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. A sly smile graced your lips.

Startled, eight heads turned to face you. Seven smiles broke out.

“Y/N! You’re finally here!” Taehyung jumped up, Jungkook following suit. You opened your arms, used to their tag team hugs.

You peer over the taller men’s shoulders, just barely, to catch Namjoon smiling with, perhaps, relief. Jin was observing the sight, amusement evident in his posture, Hoseok was quick to wait behind Jimin who was also awaiting your hug. Then there was Yoongi who didn’t seem bothered at all, yielding no reaction.

You weren’t exactly disappointed, this was his usual behavior, but it was surprising. Time to fix that attitude. You had always been a motherly figure, despite your lack of interest in having children. The two younger ones pulled away and before Jimin and Hoseok could launch forward, you put up a hand to stop them.

“Yoongi.” You barked harshly, placing your hands on your hips. He groaned loudly, like a reluctant teenager. “Is that any way to greet your mother?” You frowned in mock disapproval. “Come give me a hug.” You opened your arms up to him and made a grabbing motion with your fingers.

“You’re not my mother, I’m way older than you.” He grumbled, standing and giving you a quick hug. You flushed proudly. Everyone, you included, knew Yoongi would follow your orders, begrudgingly, yes, but he would still follow them no matter what. He held a deep respect for you, despite being four years older. You never knew where it came from, but it was there.

After the awkward hug, Jimin and Hoseok embraced you. They giggled and easily snitched on the misbehavior of their friends, receiving annoyed shouts from the other boys.

“Taehyung!” You cried, horrified. “Is it true you’ve only been eating french toast for all your meals?!”

“That’s not completely true. I ate regular toast once when they were out of ingredients for french toast.” Taehyung said grimly, his face without a trace of humor. You just huffed and turned to the remaining people.

The girl was visibly startled by all the commotion and she stood next to Jin and Namjoon. A little too close. Your eyes narrowed, but you shook your head. You needed to focus on the task at hand.

There was still a twinge of jealousy. You were the only female in the inner circle, the best of the best. The eight wonders of the crime world. Each specializing in a different area, constantly called upon for the biggest of mysteries. Every single one, without fail, ended with a stamp on the file; Case solved.

“And who is this?” You tried to hide the slightest twinge of jealousy in your gut. She seemed to be a perfectly nice girl, a bit fragile looking, but someone with the face of an angel. She looks like she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“This is Hae-won.” Jungkook grinned. “She’s my age and she’s here to study the process!” He explained excitedly.

“That’s great, Jungkook. Lovely to meet you, Hae-won.” You passed off her slight narrowing of eyes to a trick of the light. After all, the sun was coming in low at this hour and it could have been shining in her eyes. You held up the hard suitcase that had your heavy equipment. “Where can I set up my equipment?”

“O-over here.” Hae-won stuttered, rushing ahead to show you the old forensic room. “We haven’t had the need for it in a while, I’m sorry it’s so dusty.” She apologized, dipping her head in embarrassment.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You bowed to her and she left the room to leave you to set up.

You took out your plastic test tubes, ziplocs, microscope, and petri dishes. Then you checked to make sure your camera wasn’t scratched before throwing open the blinds. The window was facing the opposite direction from the sun so all you could see was a long shadow hitting the building next door.

“Joonie?” You barked from your room. You made a note to pick up wipes to clean up the place.

“Yes?” His footsteps pounded down the hallway and then skidded to a halt outside the door.

“Did you get the blood samples like I asked?” You asked, a cheery tone to your voice.

“Yes, but can’t you wait? I know you’re a workaholic, but we’re heading out to the diner for some dinner.”

“No wonder you guys haven’t been able to solve anything.” You rolled your eyes.

“First of all!” Namjoon sputtered, “Betty’s diner has excellent food and second of all, we need to eat, unlike you. You’re like a vampire, you only need blood to survive.”

“I enjoy my work.” You said dryly, giving him a hard look, fingertips pressed together.

“Yeah, yeah, just a little too much.”

“If this is your way of asking me to live a little, I will have you know that my work is very fulfilling.” Especially when I get to work 24/7 with you guys.

Namjoon sighed and crossed his arms. “You will only get the samples once we go out for food. You will eat at all mealtimes and that’s an order.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, turning around to take out the last lense. “Who else is going to supervise that Tae gets a balanced diet?”

“That’s the spirit.”

He turned to leave, but he lingered in the doorway. His hand rested on the wooden door frame, tethering him to the room. You admired the way his smooth brown hair looked as it became dusk.

It had taken forever, but you had convinced him to stop dying it blue in college. It’s damaging the hell out of your roots and how is anyone going to take you seriously with vibrant blue hair? That’s what you had said. He had relented after some push back and now you were blessed to see his beautiful hazel brown hair.

“By the way, we missed you.” Namjoon murmured softly, you almost didn’t catch it. It was a surprise, but the fearless police chief had a soft voice, one that could easily be missed if you weren’t listening.

“I was gone for under a week before you needed my help.”

His lips quirked into a smile, hand slipping from the door frame as he retreated back to the meeting room.

You decided Hae-won didn’t talk much. You tried to engage her in conversation, but she had responded half-heartedly several times and you gave up trying to push it. A part of you had hoped you would become friends, maybe talk about something other than the murders. Because contrary to popular belief, you weren’t a complete workaholic. Which, now that you thought about it, Namjoon was being a huge ass hypocrite.

Whenever you were on a job with the other seven men, all they could talk about was the case and if they were going to drag you out to dinner, you didn’t want to be regaled with tales of disembodied heads and people being cut open. It just wasn’t polite.

“Hae-won, what did you order?” You asked, trying to include the girl who seemed to shrink with every passing minute.

She avoided your gaze, mumbling something to the table, or it may have been to you. You couldn’t tell because she refused to look anywhere except the ground.

“She said she ordered a burger.” Jungkook nodded at you. You raised an eyebrow.

“She can tell me that herself, yeah?” You didn’t mean it so harshly, it just came out that way.

“Hae-won is just a little shy!” Taehyung interjected, rushing to the girl’s defense. You just narrowed your eyes further.

“And what did you say she was studying to be?” You weren’t an interrogator or investigator by any means, but you had seen Yoongi and Taehyung at work before.

“An interrogation officer.” Yoongi drawled, taking a sip of his water and looking like he wished it were alcohol instead.

“Interesting.” You murmured. Maybe she was just nervous about meeting new people, but she would have to get over that quickly if she wanted to last.

“Oh yeah, I found something at the crime scene yesterday. I wanted to check again.” Jimin said, bringing the conversation back.

“And?” Namjoon looked expectantly at him.

“Well it was after we went to retrieve the samples for Y/N and…” He shook his head. “I think it’s better to discuss it in detail in the meeting tomorrow.” He sighed. “I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Too bad we didn’t bring in a forensic autopsy technician.” Taehyung sighed, head resting on Jimin’s shoulder.

It made the man tense, but Taehyung had never been good at reading the room. Namjoon kicked the poor boy under the table, making him jolt upright with an awkward chuckle. Small town, things are different here. It was like the token red dot in a sea of blue.

“I interned under a forensic autopsy technician. I don’t know much, but I understand the process.” You cracked your knuckles, already trying to recall the steps you’d seen Jae-hwa, your mentor, go through. Namjoon nodded along with your statement, having worked alongside you.

“Of course our very own specialist isn’t just experienced in one area.” Jungkook puffed his chest out and you tried to hide the flutter in your heart and the heat crawling up your neck.

“Can I visit the crime scene tomorrow?” You asked, though you would even if they told you no.

“Yes, of course. Do it before the meeting so you can discuss your findings.” Jin nodded.

“When is the meeting?” You were exhausted, jetlag wearing you down.

“2:00 P.M. tomorrow.”

“Okay.” You made a mental note of it. “I’ll be there. Would anyone like to join me?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jimin quickly raised his hand. “I’d like to check it out more.”

“I’ll go too.” Hoseok said, having not spoken much, which was odd for the hyper police officer.

He had spent the time whispering things to Hae-won. It looked like they were in their own little fantasy, their own fan club. For some reason, your blood began to boil at the thought. Calm down. It’s nothing. There’s nothing going on here. You’ve known these boys forever. If anyone is going to be with them, it’ll be you. The last sentence in your mental monologue made you internally slap yourself. How can you think like that? Just shut up and do your job.

Right, maybe your job could distract you from whatever feelings you had towards your incredibly handsome coworkers. Besides, they had a job to do too. The last thing on their minds should be their love life, so the same should apply to you.

“I have french toast?” The waiter asked. You turned your head to face Taehyung so fast you almost got whiplash.

“You bastard, you said you were getting the hamburger.”

He just grinned evilly and leaned over the table to take his plate.

You had seen plenty of dead bodies before, but usually it was easier when they were cleaned up. God, it was like no one understood how autopsies worked in this place. You couldn’t just deal with this bloodied corpse, you need to be able to see and analyse the wound.

Having Namjoon there helped you with your frustration as you swiped at the blood staining the victim’s, Hak-kun, neck. You ignored the goosebumps that broke out when your finger brushed over his very cold and very dead skin. Namjoon looked more disturbed while you held a calm facade.

Right, he’d seen Hak-kun alive and breathing just days prior. The man had seen him warm and full of blood pumping through his heart. The contrast must be disconcerting.

“Namjoon, you really don’t have to be here.” You said softly. You may be a dumb ass sometimes when it came to emotions, but you weren’t heartless. Besides, you could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off him.

Ever the brave chief, he shook his head and took a step closer.

“It’s fine, really.” He swallowed thickly in a way that screamed definitely not fine. “I want to help.”

He could be a real help, you knew that, but your guilt won out. “No it’s okay, I insist. Actually, it would be better if you left while I examined the body.”

“I don’t believe you.” There wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Okay, fine, but just stand where you won’t be in the way and take note of everything I say.” You quickly amend. Once Namjoon pulls the ‘I don’t believe you’ card, there’s no escaping his words.

“Alright.” He seemed content with that.

You picked up your scissors to get ready to cut away at the dirtied fabric. You took another moment to look at him. He was standing dutifully, a pen and notepad in hand. He waited expectantly.

“If this becomes too much for you to watch, I won’t fault you for leaving.” Your eyes clouded over in sympathy. He scoffed.

“You underestimate your chief.”

“If you say so.” You then set to cutting away the strips of cloth that covered the abdomen. You took a moment to search for bruising. You found none. “No bruising visible on abdomen, though I speculate there are some on the back, according to Jimin’s description.” Your voice was monotone, calm, without a single waver.

“The neck has been cut deep. I can guess that the killer is experienced. It’s a clean cut, straight down and cutting through the sternocleidomastoid.” You leaned down, surveying for any other nicks.

“I see no other points of contact, the neck being the only surface bloodied. No extra cuts, it’s not messy.” You rolled the body over and cut away the back. Your eyebrows furrowed together. Your lack of speaking caused Namjoon to look up.

He eyed the bruises warily as you moved more cloth aside.

“There is severe bruising along the vertebrae.” You dictated, eyeing the dark spots along the spine. “Most likely caused by dragging. There are other bruises, they look roughly the size of fingerprints.”

You took out the tape set on the tray beside you and pressed a strip to one of the dark spots. “I’ll analyse this, see if there’s any fingerprints. From where they’re located and from the bruising, I can guess that the killer is smaller in stature. Most likely having to drag the victim to his final resting place, unable to support his weight.” You thought for a moment. “That’s enough for now.”

You cut some fabric and placed them in ziploc bags. Then you wheeled the body back into a cold storage unit. You cleaned up your workstation and then left Namjoon trailing behind you.

“How did you figure all that out?” He asked after a moment.

“Those are just my guesses, they aren’t the law.” You smiled gently. “I’m trained to give my best guesses.” You walked ahead. “Now, let’s go visit that crime scene.”

The ground was free of blood. You had even gotten on your stomach to check and found nothing. This could only mean that Hak-kun was murdered in his car. That also made little sense and his positioning was confusing as well. He had been resting against the dashboard, looking peacefully asleep. It was also odd how he even managed to get into his car. A small town like this didn’t have security cameras up and around so that could give no answers.

The only traces of blood were in the car. Drugs must have played a part in this, why else didn’t he fight back? Your stomach turned. This was definitely an odd case. The murders were cold, calculated, well thought out and tracks well covered. It was exceptionally easy to get away with these in such a small town.

You arrived back at the police station to see if your samples were done. They were, and the results were not surprising. Rohypnol. Most commonly known as the date rape drug, it acted fast to immobilize an unsuspecting person. You printed out the results, because thank god they had wifi here at least, and left for the meeting.

The meeting room wasn’t big and with nine of you in it, the walls were suffocatingly close.

“Okay, let’s begin.” Namjoon said as everyone settled into their seats. Hae-won took the seat in the corner. “Jimin, start.”

The detective nodded to his superior and turned to grab his briefcase off the floor. He placed it on the table with a thump. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath. The pink haired man pulled on blue plastic gloves and took out a plastic bag. Inside of it was a beret. It was black with a little gold button in the center. It could be considered cute if it wasn’t found at a murder sight.

“I was looking around and I accidentally bumped open the glove compartment. I found this.” He explained, pulling it out with a gloved hand and turning it to show everyone. Hae-won let out a small gasp.

“That’s mine!” She squeaked. “It went missing a few days ago.”

You exchanged a worried look with your coworkers. Carefully, you placed your files on the table and stood. You crouched in front of her, the men watching you. You placed your hands on hers; she was trembling.

“Hae-won, love.” You smiled softly. “You realize this incriminates you, yes?”

She shook her head violently and pulled her hands away from you. In her eyes, you didn’t see any sign of a killer. You only saw a scared girl, a shaking, terrified out of her mind, girl.

“I-I didn’t-didn’t-” She stuttered, breathless.

Jungkook quickly jumped up, rushing over to comfort the girl. You were pushed aside and you tried your best to keep a frown off your face. You settled for an impassive look.

“Y/N! How could you suggest such a thing, can’t you see Hae-won wouldn’t even hurt a fly. She’s scared of walking home alone at night, you think she’s going to murder five people?” Jungkook seethed. You ignored the rage boiling in your stomach.

“It’s proper procedure, she needs to know.” You tutted.

“And you’re being heartless.” Jungkook hissed. You were taken aback, lips pressing into a thin line.

“I’m doing my job, Jeon.” You said coldly. “Listen, I read the case file, I know you found Hak-kun’s tie and then he was murdered, so there’s a possibility that these talismans are a sign of who is next.” You pointed to the beret as you spoke, trying to shrug off your pain.

“In that case, we need Hae-won under constant surveillance when Saturday rolls around.” Jin said. Instantly they all looked to Hoseok.

“What? Why me?” The man furrowed his eyebrows.

“Have you forgotten? You’re one of the only formally trained and active police officers we have. Jin is too old.” Yoongi smirked.

“Excuse me!” Jin gaped, mouth opening and closing to find a response.

“And if she is the murderer, then we can watch her carefully.” Namjoon turned to you, seeing if this placated you. It wasn’t like you needed to be satisfied by any agreement. You were just doing your damn job, why couldn’t they?

“I have no problem with that.” You sat down in your chair. “Anyway,” You opened your file as the room went back to order. “I found, very obviously, traces of Rohypnol. The victim was definitely drugged, the question is how.”

“All the evidence we have is the glass of spilt water we found. I can only guess he took it voluntarily.” Jin pointed out.

“Well, didn’t he mention having a headache in that tape? He could have easily been convinced.” Jimin leaned back, crossing his arms. There was a tense silence as everyone worked to put pieces together.

“There has to be a motive, there hasn’t to be a reason these people are connected.” You drummed your fingers on the table restlessly.

You didn’t want to be suspicious of Jin, but you were. If he wasn’t the murderer, was it possible he was involved with them? He was the last one in the surveillance room. You didn’t want to accuse him and you were busy denying it to yourself, but it was a possibility. Surely, Yoongi and Taehyung had thought of it as well and brushed it off.

“Hyung, don’t you think that it’s odd that the footage was looping.” Jungkook turned to Jin. “Isn’t security footage one of your specialties? You stayed late, you didn’t notice that he was looping?”

The second in command narrowed his eyes at the young male. “Are you suggesting I have something to do with this?”

There was an intense stare off as they glared at each other. Namjoon reached up to put a hand on his partner’s shoulder and Taehyung frowned at Jungkook. These seven men were the only ones you could trust in a case, what happens when that comes into question? The distrust would run rampant. Namjoon must have been on the same thought line as you because he broke the stare off by clearing his throat.

“Absolutely not, it would make no sense and Seokjin has been nothing but loyal all these years. He has no motive and he’s a trustworthy man.”

“I just think it’s something to ponder over.” The glorified coffee boy said.

“No. We don’t throw accusations around like that, Jeon.” Yoongi turned to scold the maknae. The boy simply shrugged, swiping his bangs off his face.

“It’s odd, that’s all.” He shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the redness of Seokjin’s face.

Your eyes surveyed the room, noting the tense posture of Jin, the frown still plastered on Taehyung’s lips, the laid back nature of Yoongi, Hoseok’s arm around Jimin, and you decided to break it up.

“Okay, that’s enough. Apologize, Jeon.” You said sternly. The young man, who had been so confident a second before, now looked like a kicked puppy.

“I’m doing my job.”

“You don’t have a job here.” Namjoon drawled.

Jungkook’s face lit up red, embarrassment taking over.

“Yah! We let you sit here and then you go and accuse our second!” Taehyung shouted, jumping up. Jungkook scrambled back as the tall man stalked over to him.

“Kim Taehyung, sit the fuck back down.” You hissed. “And you too, Jungkook.”

They both halted immediately and sat back down. Taehyung swallowed.

“You guys are acting like children.” You huffed. “Now, let me continue.” You took out some papers and shuffled them. “First, it was a clean job. The stroke was purposeful along the jugular. There were no other signs of struggle except the bruises on his back, which could be attributed to being dragged along the pavement. I found no other DNA except Hak-kun’s.” You read.

“The killer was very clean indeed.” Namjoon responded, everyone remained silent. The tensions falling over the room like a thick blanket.

“Okay, I can’t think in this tension. You guys work your shit out, I’m going to look over the tapes again.” Yoongi stood and promptly left.

Your eyes trailed his figure as he stormed down the hall. The door to the room currently dubbed the ‘investigator’s nest’ slammed shut. Taehyung sighed and some of the tension left the room when he stood as well.

“I better go check up on him and work through some files.” He announced, not waiting for Namjoon to dismiss him before he left. You could hear him padding softly down the hall and knocking on the door.

The others gradually stood, making up some excuse or another before it was just you, sitting dumbfounded along with Namjoon, and Hae-won. There was a long, drawn out, silence that stretched between you three. You were an unlikely trio with no Jungkook to bridge the gap. You just stood and left, no further words needed. Besides, you wanted to test for fingerprints on the fabric.

Down the hallway, to the left, the Investigator’s Nest was closed to prying eyes. Taehyung sat on the floor, surrounded by old case files and manila folders. Yoongi sat at the desk, earbuds in as he listened to the tapes once more.

“You know, hyung, no matter how many times you listen to those tapes, nothing new is going to come up. Hak-kun obviously isn’t guilty.” Taehyung said, picking up a paper and reading it. The head investigator didn’t look up from the screen, but he did take an earbud out.

“I don’t think he’s guilty, I’m just wondering if he knew who it was. Maybe that’s why he so willingly took the drugs, maybe he recognized them.”

“You and I have both listened to those tapes so many times I could recite every line from memory.” Taehyung grumbled. He stretched out his legs, avoiding the neat stacks he had littered around.

“I know, I know.” Yoongi sighed and lightly slapped his face to stay awake. His eyes hurt.

“And we both know that he doesn’t mention anyone other than Mun-hee.”

“Maybe he was working with the killer?”

“Why would he be dead now then?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” Yoongi said through gritted teeth.

“Hyung…” The younger male stood and walked over standing behind him. His slender fingers started kneading Yoongi’s shoulders.

Taehyung had been feeling lonely, just a little. Though Yoongi and him slept together, the older man rarely showed his affections. It was the opposite to Taehyung’s openly affectionate personality. Now that they were in a small town, the prejudice was palpable everytime they hugged so Yoongi had basically cut him off from that as well.

“What’s wrong, Tae?” Of course he knew something was up with his young lover.

Yoongi had learned over the years how Taehyung ticked, how he functioned. He knew he had been somewhat neglectful, but he was more concerned about being beat up if the town found out about them.

“You know you haven’t kissed me since we arrived at the airport?” Taehyung murmured in Yoongi’s ear. It would be seductive if Taehyung didn’t genuinely want a kiss. Instead, it came across more whiny.

The investigator sighed and turned around in his chair to look over the taller man. He placed his hands on his hips.

“Is that really all you want?” He fought to keep the flush off his face.

Taehyung nodded wordlessly, leaning down, but Yoongi spotted an odd file on the ground. He moved his head, causing Taehyung to shout in anguish as he just missed his lips.

“In a moment, Tae.” Yoongi stood abruptly, causing Taehyung to stumble back a few steps.

The other man looked hurt, opening his mouth to say something when he saw Yoongi bend down to pick up a file. The head investigator opened the file, flipping through it until he suddenly stopped.

“What is it, Yoongs?” Taehyung peered over the man’s shoulder, but he turned the other way. With a huff, he stood back, studying Yoongi’s face.

“I found something interesting.” His eyes were focused on one spot, one picture.

A girl, her throat slit, blood pooling on the dashboard. She looked like she fell asleep at the wheel. Her hair splayed around her head, soaked in her own red liquid. His eyes trailed up the page. It was dated two years before. The picture was labeled ‘People V.S. Paek Cho, exhibit A’. He flipped to the next page. There was a newspaper article cut out. He examined it, frowning.

“Farmer Chung-hee’s daughter, Joo-Eun, found dead in her car, Rohypnol in her system. Officers claim there was no sign of sexual trauma, however. Paek Cho, an accomplished student and outstanding citizen is convicted of her murder…” Yoongi murmured, reading over the article.

“....Father had to be dragged out of the room by officers once the sentence was read out. An anonymous friend of Joo-Eun testifies against Paek Cho, stating ‘he always gave them the creeps’. Paek Cho receives one year of community service after being convicted of collusion in the murder, but in the end there was not enough evidence to convict the young man of first degree murder or even manslaughter.” He stopped, reading the last sentence in his mind. It’s odd, considering the amount of indisputable evidence stacked against Mr. Paek. His mind was racing with possibilities.

These murders and the murder of Joo-Eun held a shocking resemblance. It could be a way to get back at the town, but the only person mentioned who would have such a motive would be Chung-hee, the farmer, and no one in town had even mentioned him. He threw the file onto the desk.

“Taehyung, tell me what you see.”

The dark haired man picked up the file and flipped through it. “Oh.” was all he said.

His eyes were surveying the same picture, the article, everything.

“Why is the file so empty?” He murmured. He then skipped to the last few pages. “Wait.” He took out the article and placed it carefully down. The paper was old and worn.

“What is it?” Yoongi leaned over, placing his hands on the desk.

“It says here that Mun-hee was a juror at the trial, so was our Jane Doe.” Taehyung pointed to their names.

Yoongi’s eyes snapped up to meet Taehyung’s.

“Taehyung, we need those court documents, now.”

Slam. A thick binder of papers was dropped onto the desks. Jin looked up from his studies, Namjoon leaning over him as they spoke in hushed voices. Jimin was joking about something with Hoseok and Hae-won, who was now under 24/7 surveillance. You stood to the side, talking to Jungkook about your results and also trying to give him some pointers on holding his tongue.

Everyone’s eyes trailed to Taehyung and Yoongi’s panting forms in the doorway then to the binder on the desk. Dust flew from underneath, making Taehyung cough, the sound turning to a wheeze because of how out of breath he was.

“Did you guys just run a marathon or something?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up, Y/N. You know I would never put myself through such torture.” Yoongi scoffed.

“We went to town hall to retrieve some court documents.” Taehyung explained quickly. He then went on to explain their previous discussion in detail, Yoongi chiming in every so often.

“Hae-won, are you alright?” Namjoon interrupted, looking at the trembling girl. She looked like she was panicking, sweat beading on her forehead.

“It’s just not right! They let Cho off so easily, it’s not justice, it’s against everything the law stands for.” She cried out, literally shaking with rage as she spoke. You, along with everyone else, were surprised by her outburst. Hae-won was a curious creature, hm?

“Were you a part of the case?” You prodded, subtly asking why she was so worked up. There would be no other reason for these emotions.

She had such bitterness apparent in her eyes. You watched her carefully, eyes drinking in her movements. You took note of the slightest twitch in her fingers, the crescent prints she left in the palms of her hands, the way her lips tugged downwards.

“N-no.” She said, her voice reverted to the quiet girl you all knew her as. She sat back down, taking in a shaky breath. “I just love this town, this is a sore spot for a lot of the good people in town.” She said sweetly.

“But you knew the jury members?” Jin asked.

“Yes, I...I went to school with them. We were seniors, a lot of us were 18 and the town is small, they don’t have a big pool of choices for jury members.” She explained.

“Right.” Yoongi nodded, seemingly understanding. He then turned his attention to the file in front of him and you did the same. “It looks like, just as we suspected, Hak-kun, Mun-hee, Jane Doe, and the two previous murders were jury members.”

“Poor Chung-hee was never the same after that trial.” Hae-won suddenly said, her voice ladened with pain. “He lives alone now, outside of town; doesn’t speak to anyone, refuses to even look the folks here in the eye.”

Once again, your attention drifted back to Hae-won.

“Did you know her, Joo-Eun?” You asked the girl.

“Yeah, but only a little. We went to the same high school, but she was always nice!” Hae-won said. “I just remember once she came out to meet me when I was about to head home. It was winter and the sun set early, you know? So anyway, it was getting dark and I remember how she grabbed my arm, her face pale. She said to me ‘I think someone is following me, please walk home with me.’ I didn’t think much of it. We don’t have any creepers, you know? But Paek Cho was always off.” She shrugged. Then suddenly she looked stricken, like she didn’t mean to say that much. The dark haired girl covered her face with her hands.

“Can you tell us anything else?” You asked softly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t-I don’t remember. I think she asked me to walk her home from a party once but I refused.” She sighed. “Then she was dead the next day. I was too busy studying for my finals.”

She may have been a harmless bystander, but it was obvious this weighed on her. “I often think about how I was the last person she contacted. I barely knew her and suddenly I was roped in.” She looked close to tears so you went over and hugged her.

The others remained silent, watching the interaction. Namjoon felt his heart flutter when you made eye contact with him. He couldn’t help imagining your arms wrapped around him.

“You said Chung-hee remained outside of town?” Namjoon questioned, not daring to take a step. He was worried he would throw off the delicate balance of tension in the room.

“Yes, but he’s not the murderer! He wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’s just a little grumpy, a real loner.” Hae-won cried.

“How are you connected with him, Hae-won?” Yoongi asked, his voice gentle, but prying.

“I’ve just-I used to buy my produce fresh from him.” She answered easily. “He was always kind.”

�� Yoongi nodded at her response.

“Jungkook, please take Hae-won out for some fresh air. It’s stuffy and dusty in here, it can’t be helping the situation.” Jin said factually. Jungkook nodded, despite their earlier differences, he still listened to his superior.

Once they were gone, you all stared at each other.

“Okay, I’ll say it then.” Taehyung broke the silence. “Chung-hee is the most obvious suspect here. He fits all the descriptions, he has a motive, he doesn’t speak to anyone in town.”

“But Hae-won said-” Hoseok began.

“I don’t give a rats ass about what Hae-won said.” Yoongi interrupted. “We need to investigate him.”

“It just doesn’t feel right. Something about it isn’t right, but it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, I suppose.” Hoseok relented. You noted that he spent a lot of time giving in to the others. It could be that he had an inferiority complex, being seen as your run of the mill police officer.

“Hoseok, you have opinions too, we’re okay with hearing them out, right Yoongi?” Jimin seemed to follow your thoughts.

“Uh, uh, right.” Hoseok murmured, suddenly bashful now that the spotlight was on him.

He realized that he so rarely was asked what he thought. The man spent a lot of time just following their orders; he trusted them wholly and completely. His faith had never wavered in his partners, his coworkers, his lovers. It felt unreasonable, rude, and downgrading if he tried to bring up his lowly opinions; as if he was tainting their genius by bringing his own stupidity into it. After all, he never finished college. He went straight to the police academy, deciding school just wasn’t for him.

“I just, Chung-hee doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to-to do such a petty thing.” He tried to explain his gut feeling.

“We don’t know what kind of person he is, yet, Hobi.” Jin narrowed his eyes, almost accusing him of colluding with the murderer.

Once again, Hoseok was reminded of his inferiority. Of course, of course. But then an angel sang and came to his defense.

“I have to agree with Hobi.” You said firmly. “My mind is saying ‘it’s obviously him’, but my gut is telling me no.”

Hoseok was...shocked. No one really defended him in these sorts of discussions. It felt out of character for you to do such a thing, often found laughing alongside the others.

“As much as I respect your gut, Y/N.” Taehyung began, a condescending tone dripping from his words, “This is our job. We can’t just not investigate people who are obviously linked to a crime.”

“But in what way? Because this poor man’s daughter was murdered two years ago? You think that’s enough to implicate him in a crime today?”

“No! But you’re missing the point!” Taehyung hissed, running a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t be a big deal if the crime wasn’t exactly the same.”

You sighed, giving up your fight as your gut twisted. Poor Chung-hee, a farmer who probably just wanted to live his life and get far away from the law, was about to be dragged into another mess.

“Hoseok, go get Kookie and Hae-won. We leave tomorrow.” Namjoon’s eyes were cold, not a hint of emotion betrayed in his stance. “Dismissed.”

You turned away, taking Hoseok’s arm in yours.

“I hope you’re doing the right thing, Namjoon.” Venom fell from your lips. You turned away and followed Hoseok out the door.

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Taglist: @lovelyseomin

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thundergrace · 3 years

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hi, idk if you've answered this before (then im sorry) but who're the gaydies in your header? and from where's "less sarcasm, more focus"? sounds fun. thank you!

The header is from a show called Rookie Blue, Holly Stewart & Gail Peck were the couple.

And the quote is from a show called Grey's Anatomy, said by a character named Arizona Robbins. It...it was not a fun moment though.

#also gosh you must be a baby 🥺 hi hello aww

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raendown · 4 years

Link

I was bribed in to this by @rookie-d and @sleepysenseis and I regret nothing. Show some love to Rookie’s art for this au as well!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1893 Rated: G Summary: Owning and running a bakery with his husband isn't exactly where he thought life would take him but Tobirama wouldn't trade this for the world.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Patissier-pation Award

The familiar chime of a bell greeted him first as he walked through the front door, eyes down to inspect the mail he had gathered on his way in. Mostly junk, a couple of bills, and a letter that he would bet his entire bank account had come from Hashirama. He would know those graceless spiky letters anywhere. Off on some nature retreat for the past month, there was little doubt this letter would be filled with the same rambling nonsense as the last one had been, lengthy descriptions of the woman he had apparently fallen in love with at first sight.

Under the hum of halogen lights and the ever present smell of baked goods Tobirama could hear a slight groaning sound that made him smile. Instead of going to look for the source right away he continued to flip through the mail until he had sorted junk from bills, slipping behind the till counter to put everything in its right place. Running their own shop was hard work some days but always worth it in the end. While he was there he tidied a few receipts from the day before and used a nearby rag to wipe off a bit of icing probably smeared around by a customer’s child. Only when he was satisfied that everything was in order did he finally turn to look at the plush couch set just a little ways apart from the rest of the seating area. During peak hours the various armchairs and stools were usually filled with people taking a few minutes to enjoy the treats they had just purchased.

Since right now was not peak hours the only person to be found was Madara, stretched out across the couch that Tobirama had quietly purchased just for moments like these. A fond smile touched his lips as he watched his favorite idiot rub at a full belly with furrowed brows.

“How many of those tarts actually made it on to the shelves?” Tobirama called out to him with a lightly scolding tone.

“Most of them!” Madara shot back. Then he groaned again while both hands paused to delicately cup his stomach. “I could have sworn I only ate a few. Just to taste test. Quality checking is important!”

“I see.”

The argument might have been a bit more believable if Madara didn’t use the same one every time he overindulged in his own products. He was the one who initially came up with the idea for the two of them to open their own bakery and Tobirama supposed he should have known then that doing so would lead to regular episodes like this one. His husband was an amazing patissier but he was also his own biggest fan. Or his stomach was, at least, and Madara had never been known for denying whatever his stomach wanted.

“Did you by any chance happen to find time to finish the Sarutobi order before you took your little snack break?”

“Of course I did,”’ Madara huffed. Generously sacrificing one hand for a moment, he pointed imperiously towards the order counter where there indeed were three boxes with the shop logo printed on the front stacked neatly together and tied with ribbon. Inside there would be a dozen cupcakes each with, if Tobirama was remembering currently, blue icing and rainbow sprinkles arranged to spell out the recipient’s name. A fairly simple order. He wasn’t surprised Madara had finished the whole thing while he was gone, though he was surprised there had been enough time left over to gorge on the tarts he’d put in the oven before he left.

Since he trusted his partner Tobirama didn’t offer the insult of going to check the order. Instead he mentally checked it off his list of things to do before heading in to the back to go wash his hands. There was still another order he needed to get a start on, although most of it would have to be finished tomorrow. He was fairly sure they wouldn’t have enough icing until their shipment arrived the next morning.

A quick peek in to the fridge on his way by confirmed his suspicions. Although they still had a tub each of pink and white, yellow was running low and the red was all but entirely gone. If he tried to decorate anything he might have enough to use red for a couple of accents but certainly not enough to cover several dozen cookies in the pattern the order called for. It was a good thing all this wasn’t due to be picked up until late tomorrow.

Hands clean, Tobirama tied an apron around his middle and began pulling out the ingredients necessary for making his specialty gingerbread, one of the quickest selling items on their menu every winter. When he was younger he never would have believed that life would take him here. As a child he’d mostly been obsessed with science and little else. Most of his career dreams had centered around NASA or biochemical research, plans for changing the world with his magnificent discoveries. Now he co-owned a bakery with his husband and spent most of his days rolling dough or decorating cakes, all in between manning the till and watching children’s faces light up as they picked out which treat they wanted to take home. It was hardly the auspicious career he’d always imagined but it was a good life, full and happy, one that he wouldn’t trade for anything. Not even for the trips to outer space he used to dream about.

So lost in his own musings was he that it felt as though he’d only just begun mixing the dough when he looked down and found row upon row of perfectly shaped cookies all laid out before him. Some were made to look like people, some like trees, and others still were laid out in thick flat sheets with which he would later build a house. Gingerbread was always quite fun to work with. A quick count told him that he already had everything he needed as well as a couple of spares in case one or two of them burnt in the oven yet there was still just a bit of dough left over.

With a whimsical smile he reached for his tools again and began to shape a new pair of cookies.

Baking gingerbread didn’t take all that long, almost as much time as it took for them to cool once they were back out of the oven, and as he packaged everything to keep it safe for tomorrow he set his final two creations aside. It may have been a whim but he’d never sent anything out of this kitchen that hadn’t received his full effort and he wasn’t about to now. There was, after all, just enough red icing left - not to mention plenty of black.

Madara was still draped across the couch in the front shop when Tobirama came out to check on him, one of their fancier order boxes in hand. The bellyache appeared to have passed and instead pulled the man down in to a light food coma. Long dark lashes fluttered against pale cheeks when Tobirama bent to stroke one of them, rousing his husband from what looked to a very peaceful if possibly undeserved nap.

“Mnng? I wasn’t asleep.”

“Your snoring tells another story.”

“T-that wasn’t snoring! I was just humming a song under my breath!”

Lifting one eyebrow, Tobirama shook his head. “Mhm, very convincing.”

“Shut up! What’s that? I didn’t think we had anything else going out today. Did I forget something?” Madara frowned and his eyes grew distant as he went over their orders for the week in his head.

Rather than let him suffer Tobirama simply placed the box in his lap.

“You forgot to greet me properly when I came back from running errands but I’ll forgive you for that just this once. These are for you, if you’ve still got room in your belly.”

“Oh?”

Always intrigued by the promise of more sweets, Madara plucked at the edge of the box to pull the tab keeping it closed out of its slot. He lifted the lid with an almost childish expression of anticipation that morphed in to a graceless full-mouthed gawk when he spotted the gift inside. Much to Tobirama’s horror, he caught sight of what looked to be tears gathering in his husband’s eye.

“Is that...us?”

“Yes it is.”

“We’re holding hands. And you gave yourself a little fur collar just like your favorite jacket!”

Tobirama rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. He really liked that jacket. “A little extra detail never hurt anyone,” he murmured as though in protest.

He was mortified to see Madara cradle the cookies in one palm so he could use his other hand to gently stroke the little red icing lines marking where Tobirama had tattooed his own face during a rebellious youth. The number of times Madara had given those marks the same gentle attention were uncountable and it never failed to draw a little color in to his cheeks, embarrassed that his heart could be so softened by such a simple gesture.

“Just eat them and go back to moaning about your belly,” he grumbled even as he leaned in to the touch. Madara huffed at him in amusement.

“What brought this on, hm? I feel like I’m being rewarded for something.”

“It was a whim and nothing more.”

Something about that seemed the right thing to say as Madara puffed up like he’d been complimented, as though being gifted cookies made out of leftover dough were the greatest gesture of love.

“Thinking about me, were you?” his husband asked with a sly undertone.

“I am always thinking of you,” Tobirama admitted. It was true so he saw no reason to deny it.

Madara blinked once. “Oh. Well...I’m always thinking of you too. So there!”

Both of them blushing and flustered, two silly little gingerbread men still held ever so carefully in one of Madara’s palms, Tobirama was eternally grateful there were no customers in the shop to witness the disgustingly sweet scene they were surely making. With a rough clearing of his throat he pulled away and cast his eyes anywhere else in the room.

“Right,” he said gruffly, “eat your cookies. I’m going to go take inventory so we can call in another supply order tomorrow.” Spinning on his heel relieved him of the sight of his beloved husband cradling such precious if silly gifts but it did not spare him the sound of a quiet voice trailing after his rapid footsteps.

“I love you.”

Tobirama wrinkled his nose against the wave of mushy feelings in his chest until the urge to turn around and throw himself down on the couch with his partner had faded. He stepped out with purpose, with dignity, with every intention of going to make himself useful for the rest of the afternoon. But he did pause in the doorway to the kitchen long enough to turn his head to one side.

“Love you too,” he murmured.

It felt like capitulation but, then, Madara had already won his heart many years before and the life they’d built together would always be sweeter than any treat he could bake for himself.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #modern au #bakery au #fanfiction #yes the title is a pun #would you expect anything less???#i considered two other puns as well xD

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nomorelonelydays · 5 years

Text

kick your pretty feet up on my dash

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 – It’ll Be

Header made by the lovely @withlovefromfeona

Sidney thinks he could’ve stood there for an eternity.

Samantha coughs from the side, a little impatiently. “Sid,” she says, her eyebrows raised as she glances at Geno.

“Oh! Oh, I—here. Have a nice day.” He tapes the cupcake box shut and hands it over to her, and she leaves the store with the bell jingling behind her.

Geno turns his head to watch her go, conflicted and almost worried. “She’s—”

“Customer,” Sidney says quickly. “Samantha. PTA President.”

“PTA—” Geno repeats, confused. “Like, school?”

“Yeah, there’s an elementary school here,” Sidney says, then feels like a dummy. There’s an elementary school in every town. “Geno, that photo—”

“Sidney, did Samantha leave yet?” Deidre calls from the kitchen. He hears her footsteps get closer. “If she tries to give me more advice on how to make my cupcakes, I swear I’ll—” She stops abruptly at the sight of Geno, her expression morphing into back neutral politeness. “Oh, hello! Welcome! I’m Deidre. How can I help you, handsome?”

Oh, God. “Dee, this is—”

Geno’s already extending his hand. “I’m Geno. Nice to meet.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re Geno? Sidney’s Geno?”

Sidney’s face feels like it’s on fire. “He’s not—”

“Sidney, why don’t you take Geno around the block to that ice cream place on First? I can handle the shop by myself for the rest of the day.”

“It’s okay, he’s just—”

“Ice cream, Sid,” she insists, ushering him out from behind the counter. “Show him the ice cream store.”

Deidre’s already waving at them from inside the store when she successfully maneuvers both Sidney and Geno out on the street. Ice cream store, she mouths at them with a grin, pointing helpfully to their right.

Sidney sighs and looks up at Geno with a ‘what can you do?’ expression. “Let’s go to the ice cream store then.” Geno used to demolish milkshakes when they were both rookies anyways, out late at some fast food chain that he convinced Sidney to go to past curfew. He’d probably enjoy this.

“I love ice cream,” Geno says earnestly, without taking his eyes off Sidney.

Geno orders cookies and cream, two scoops in a cone, with a healthy drizzle of chocolate sauce and extra crushed Oreos. Sidney opts for vanilla, no toppings, in a cup. It almost feels like the date they never had (the same one Sidney has on replay in his mind on lonely afternoons as he walks home from the bakery), if Geno ever liked him the way Sidney liked him.

“Boring,” Geno says, chasing the dripping ice cream by plastering his mouth against the waffle cone. He looks like a walrus. “They have ice cream with four colors.”

“Neither of us are twenty anymore,” Sidney says, halfheartedly digging into his cup. “Besides, I don’t work out like I used to, and—wait, you shouldn’t be eating this either. I know that’s not on your diet plan.”

“I’m on vacation,” Geno teases. “Let me have fun.”

“It’s in the middle of the season.”

“Like I say, no game until Frid—”

“I know, G. But—” Sidney’s fingers drum lightly against the table, mostly because he doesn’t know what else to do. “You skipped town in the middle of the week. Does anyone know?”

Geno remains quiet, confirming his suspicions.

“Oh my God, G, you can’t—”

“It’s just quick trip, one day, be back soon.” He looks like a scolded child—petulant in spite of everything. “I want to see you.”

“You could’ve seen me after the season,” Sidney says gently. “You know I’ll always be here.” For you, he thinks, but what ends up coming out of his mouth is, “In Oregon.”

Geno stews over this. “Why you pick Oregon?”

“I figured The Oregon Trail was a thing for a reason,” he tries, but the reference must’ve flown over Geno’s head. He shrugs. “I don’t know. I—I really don’t know.”

Because it had been the farthest place he could think of. Because he needed time away from Pittsburgh, where he’d fell in love and gotten his heart torn up like tissue paper, even though it’s been on his mind like a piece of gum stuck in the crevices of his sole the last few months.

“You could have stayed. Penguins always need you.”

“I couldn’t. It’d—it’d be too much.”

Geno looks slightly alarmed. “Too much for knee?”

“No, I—” He lowers his gaze and concentrates on the ice cream mash his cup is holding. “It’d just be too much. I wanted to play. I still want to play. I think about what it’d be like if I didn’t have to retire, every day.”

“Sid.” Geno sounds devastated, and it’s all Sidney can do to keep from falling to pieces as he ducks his head lower. “Sid, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” He blinks several times, taking a deep exhale. “But. But I’m not unhappy with how things turned out. You deserve to be Captain, you really do.”

“I’m not kidding when I say I miss you,” Geno mumbles. “Like, when something new happening, I find new restaurant that open, I think how much you love it, but you’re already gone. Or sometimes after we lose, you know, drive home and halfway I realize I’m head to your house.”

Sidney lets out a sharp breath. “Geno—why didn’t you tell me this before? You could’ve—on the phone—”

Geno’s free hand is clenched like he’s restraining himself. “Tried to, but I’m scared. It’s big change, I know it’s big change, but then it really happen and you already settle in, have bakery, have...secret admirers, have happy life after hockey. So I just think, okay, no more room for me. So. It’s okay.”

“G, Oregon’s not keeping me hostage,” Sidney croaks. “I would’ve come back to visit if you asked. And there’s always room for you.”

“But I don’t want just visit. I want—” The topmost scoop of his ice cream decides to fall with a disappointing plop on his lap at that point, and Geno jerks away like he’s been scalded. “Oh, fuc—”

“Oh my God.” He starts throwing napkins at Geno, and Geno dabbing uselessly at his ripped, probably $500 jeans while trying to mouth at the rest of his ice cream cone to save it is so ridiculous that Sidney starts giggling despite himself. “I’m sorry—I’m not—I’m not laughing at you. It’s—God, I’m sorry, I need a minute—”

But Geno’s laughing too.

“I miss hear this,” Geno says. “I miss your laugh.”

It comes out easily, like he’s just stating another fact. The sky is blue. The earth is round. He misses Sidney’s laugh. Misses Sidney himself, even.

“Come on.” He pushes his chair back, grabbing his empty cup and stuffing the dirty napkins inside. “Let’s go to my place. You can borrow my pants.”

Geno gives him a dubious glance. “You think I fit?”

“You’re such an ass. You can take my sweatpants or go back to the airport in your underwear.”

They walk side by side down the avenue, with Sidney pointing out the sights along the way, from the candy store with its dusty, thousand-year-old taffy and the abandoned 1950s hole-in-the-wall lounge that is supposedly haunted. Geno nods along the whole time, like Cardwell’s town history genuinely fascinates him. Sidney shoves his hands deep in his pockets and ignores how Geno’s arm keeps brushing against his, and how much he wants to reach out and grab it.

“You’re flying back tomorrow, right? We can just toss it in the washer and I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow. Unless you can’t tumble dry it.” He knows all about Geno’s eclectic fashion choices, and he’s learned early on to just not ask. “I mean, I can mail it back to you when it finishes drying?”

“Sid, always think so much,” Geno tells him with a smile. “Gotta be Captain here too.”

“Old habits die hard,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Here give me your jeans. Oh—”

He turns around, and Geno is much closer than he’d expected. Even though he still towers over Sidney, he makes for a mournful sight in his ruined pants and airplane-wrinkled button-up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I—” Geno’s still staring at his feet. “You just tell me and I go back Pittsburgh, okay, Sid? Won’t bother you anymore. But want to know if biggest reason you move here because you don’t want to see me anymore. It’s okay if—if that’s why. Tanger say that you want to get away, that you told him it’s too much be here in the city. I just want to know if it’s me so I—”

“Geno, no.” His feet may as well have been rooted to the ground. “I mean, yes it was too much. And maybe it was also because of you—but not because I hated you. I—I could never hate you.”

Geno remains silent.

“Did you think it was because of you the whole time?”

He shrugs, a small, uncertain motion. “You leave so fast. Don’t tell me until you already packed, but Flower knows about you move. And Tanger, and Phil, and Jake and baby Pens. Call less and less, think maybe is how you say you done.”

Sidney takes a faltering step towards Geno, then another, until he’s close enough to dare to reach for Geno’s wrists. Geno looks up then, eyes red-rimmed like he’s bracing for the worst.

“I left because I liked you,” Sidney says, his voice raw. He then amends, quickly, because ‘like’ isn’t enough to describe what he’s always felt about Geno. “I love you. And I was selfish. I didn’t want to stay because I knew you didn’t love me like that, and I didn’t want to wait for you to tell me that you didn’t need me anymore. So. I just. I don’t know. I ran, I guess.”

“Sid. Sid.” Geno’s shaking his hands free from Sidney’s grasp, and Sidney takes half a step back as his heart plummets to his feet. But he’s only raising them to cup Sidney’s face, running his thumb tenderly across his cheek. “Sid, you—I always need you.”

And he very, very carefully places a kiss on Sidney’s open mouth.

“Sid?” Geno asks, when Sidney’s remains stock-still after he pulls back. “Sid, you—”

“Kiss me again,” he says, his arms snaking around Geno’s shoulders—he needs to touch—something, anything. “Kiss me now.”

Geno wastes no time in complying, too dazed to come up with anything snarky. He kisses Sidney like he’s been holding back for years, maybe even decades. Sidney’s fingers are tangling themselves in his hair and the moment he feels Geno’s arms under his ass, he jumps like he’s going for a celly, his thighs clinging to Geno’s waist.

“Shit—oh, fuck—” He knows he’s not light, but Geno only stumbles for a bit, pushing Sidney against the wall to right himself as he seals his mouth against Sidney’s neck. “Oh my God—oh my God—”

“I see photo,” Geno says hoarsely. “Flower send Instagram, and I see, think, I hope so much, want it to mean what I think so bad—”

“Yes, yes.” His brain is definitely melting at this point, and suddenly Geno’s jeans are impossible to unbutton. It’s fucking terrible. “Take your stupid ice cream pants off.”

Geno looks like he wants to say something about that, but Sidney quickly follows up with, “I want to blow you,” and it visibly seems like every single rational thought is flying out of Geno’s head.

He leads Geno down the hall and practically drags him onto the mattress. Geno’s stubble grazes against the soft part of his neck, trailing down to his collar, then chest as he mouths at his nipple, and Sidney knows he’s going to fucking regret the burn the next day but it’s so, so good and all he can think of is holy shit, this is really happening.

Sidney wouldn’t even categorize himself as out of practice. He’s pretty much never had a hands-on experience, because the NHL is so generous with providing him the privacy and support to do so. He feels like he’s skating blindfolded, headfirst into nowhere as he pulls down Geno’s waistband. But he knows what he likes, he’s seen enough videos to make it up as he goes along, so he sinks to his knees and takes as much of Geno as he can in his mouth, alternating between kitten licks and slow, long stripes from the base. His entire body feels like it’s shaking because for once, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He only knows that he wants to touch and keep touching, knows the familiar thudding of his heart thundering loudly against his ribcage that he’s sure Geno must hear it. But Geno’s eyes stay closed, his hands gripping the sheets as he tries his best to breathe through his nose.

“Wait, wait,” Geno says suddenly. “Fuck, I’m close.”

Sidney hums, swirling his tongue on the tip of Geno’s cock until Geno pushes him off.

“Need minute—” He looks like he’d tumbled off two hills in a row. He thumbs at Sidney’s reddened mouth with a shaky hand, mesmerized. “Sid. Holy shit. Sid. You look—”

He probably looks like a mess. But Geno cups his face almost reverently, like he’s fragile.

“Look so gorgeous,” he says, like it’s simply the truth. “Always look so good.” Then he must’ve noticed that Sidney’s still achingly hard, his dick straining in his underwear and leaking against the fabric. “Up, up.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I take care of you,” Geno says, one hand reaching out to fumble blindly in the nightstand drawer. “Where’s—”

He really just wants Geno’s hands on him, anywhere, so he guides them, wrapping both their fingers around his already sensitive cock until Geno gets into a rhythm and all the noises Sidney can make is shallow gasps against Geno’s neck.

“Is this good?” Geno asks. He may as well have been fucking talking to Sidney from Mars. “Tell me what to do.”

“I—sometimes I like it—with my fingers. Inside,” Sidney pants out. He fishes the lube out from the drawers for Geno. “Geno, please—”

“Jesus.” Geno makes another hitching noise. “What you want?”

“Want you in me,” Sidney manages.

He lets out an embarrassing whine when Geno’s hands leave, but Geno’s only flipping them so Sidney’s on his back. He thinks he hears the condom wrapper crinkling. “Sidney, can I—”

“Yes, yes, yes.” He hooks one leg around Geno’s waist, his arms pulling Geno down by his shoulders desperately. “Hurry up.”

The rest is a blur. Geno’s fingers are bigger than he had expected, the feeling electric when he crooks them and hits a particularly delicious spot and better than when he does it himself. Geno lets Sidney ride himself silly on his hand until Sidney grows frustrated with his own clumsy back-and-forth. He’s never had more than two, three fingers in him, but he sinks down on Geno’s cock, inch by inch, until he’s stretched and wet and full to the brim, until it feels like he’s swallowed the sky. It’s all he can do to squirm on Geno’s lap without losing his mind.

“Sid, Sid,” Geno says, his mouth against Sidney’s shoulders as he presses the hundredth, thousandth kiss on Sidney’s skin. “Love you, Sid.”

“Do you have to go?” Sidney says, whispering even though it’s only the two of them. He’s tucked in Geno’s arms, and every once in a while, he makes as if to move so Geno’s limbs don’t fall off, but Geno refuses to let go. “No games until Friday, right?”

“I’m tell Tanger you say that. Sidney Crosby say is okay for Captain to not go to practice, it’s okay not win Cup this year,” Geno teases, but he’s also grimacing at the prospect of leaving the bed. He nuzzles in, planting a tender kiss on Sidney’s shoulder. “Don’t want to go.”

“I want another Cup,” Sidney says stubbornly, mostly because he knows it’ll make Geno laugh.

It does. But Geno sobers quickly.

“Come back to Pittsburgh with me.”

Six months ago, if Geno had asked him the same question, he would’ve agreed in a heartbeat.

“And leave Dee to fend off Samantha by herself? She’ll never forgive me.” He sighs. “But I don’t want you to go back and forg—”

He stops short, biting his lips. He’s waited so long already.

“I’ll come back.” It’s heavy, the way Geno says it. Like it’s more than a promise. “I come back in June and stay the whole summer.”

“You’ll be here for the 4th of July Carnival Bash then.”

Geno squints. “The what?”

“It’s a Cardwell Point thing. There’s fireworks and games. Apparently they’ll also bring in a Ferris wheel, but I don’t know how safe portable Ferris wheels are.”

“You not American.”

“Yeah, but I think I’m an honorary Cardweller now. Cardwellite. Cardwelly?” he grumbles. “Besides, I want to—never mind.”

“What?” A grin starts to bloom as he squeezes Sidney’s hips. “What you want?”

“Hey, quit it. I wanted to—I mean, I don’t know, I thought it might be fun to—”

“Come on, Sid,” Geno coaxes, his fingers dancing on the curve of Sidney’s waist.

“I wanted to make out with you when the fireworks go off,” he mutters, his words stringing together. “It’s a thing. It’s stupid. Forget I said it.”

But Geno only kisses him, his lips like honey. “Okay. No problem. And if I miss fireworks, guess have to bring Cup here, kiss you in front of that instead.”

“Okay,” Sidney says. His heart feels too full, and he wants to keep feeling like this into the next century. “It’s a deal.”

“What else you want do?” He brushes Sidney’s stray curl behind his ear. “Before I go back.”

“Dinner,” he decides, tangling his legs with Geno’s and rubbing their calves together. “But then I want to come back here.”

He wants to do everything with Geno. And for the first time in his life, he thinks he can.

The next morning, he sends Geno back to the airport with a full cheesecake. (Deidre doesn’t even bat an eyelash when Geno pre-orders three other specialty cakes—except for The Jack; he’d wrinkled his nose at the name—to be shipped to Pittsburgh.)

“Make sure rookies don’t take,” Geno promises.

“Be nice,” Sidney says against Geno’s mouth, when Geno kisses him goodbye for the fifth time in the car. “You should share with them.”

“Is my cake. Literally have my name.”

Geno ends up accidentally leaving the cake out in the dining nook for approximately fifteen minutes, when he gets called away by the coaches for an impromptu meeting. It gets demolished in less time than that, when a lone rookie coming back from the trainer’s room spies it and alerts five other players and an intern on the PR team. According to Tanger’s amused text, Geno had sulked for literal hours.

“Only save one slice,” he mopes on the phone. “Turn my back and is gone.”

“Guess you have to come back for more,” Sidney smiles, not feeling very sorry at all.

The Penguins make it into the playoffs. It’s a good start to April.

“What if we made little Stanley Cup cookies,” he suggests to Deidre. “To show support.”

“I don’t know if people here will get it,” Deidre says. “But we can.”

No one in Cardwell Point gets it. Samantha from PTA buys three when she hears that the design had been Sidney’s idea, but she calls them ‘the little Harry Potter goblet biscuits.’

He’s trying to take a photo of a half-eaten cookie for Geno when Deidre asks, “So do you just watch hockey or do you actually play?”

“Oh, yeah, used to. All the time,” Sidney says, pressing send. “I played for the Pittsburgh Penguins. I was the Captain.”

Deidre rolls her eyes. “That’s funny. Because I also played for the Penguins as the Captain.”

“I knew it.” Sidney grins, barely managing to dodge the towel when she swats it at his arm.

(Two days later, a 15-year old tourist wanders into the store to buy a cookie and nearly drops all of his quarters when he realizes exactly who is giving him his change.

“Are you Sidney Crosby?” the boy squeaks. “Penguins Sidney Crosby?”

He can’t hold in his laughter when he sees the moment Deidre connects the dots and her jaw drops).

Deidre is Sidney’s unofficial date to the May neighborhood potluck. She begrudging makes just one chocolate cherry cake due to popular demand, but she complains the whole time.

It’s more fun that he’d anticipated—small talk, good beer, friendly faces, and just the right amount of whispered gossip over Samantha’s bake sale blunder involving store-bought scones pretending to be homemade. He also ends up offering babysitting services to about three separate families. It’s easy to imagine the rest of retired life being well, as easy as this.

He can’t wait to share it with Geno.

Sidney has one of the neighborhood kids, Sharon, in his arms. She’s busy chatting his ear off about her favorite animals at the lake (“Squirrels, but not gooses. They chase me and they got teeth and they’re too big.”) when someone taps Sidney’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the man says. He has a nice, shy smile when Sidney turns to him. Behind them stands three guys in a huddle near the drinks table, whispering among each other with big grins and giving them thumbs-ups for some reason. “Uh, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Jeremy.”

Sidney blinks. “Oh. Oh!”

So there’s that.

“I’m exhausted,” he tells Geno on the phone later that evening. “Samantha kept making me eat her potato salad. How’d the game go today? Sorry I missed half of it.”

“Wait, wait, go back.” It’s hilarious when Geno’s voice actually squeaked when Sidney mentioned that Jeremy is, in fact, a real person. “You meet stalker?”

“He’s not a stalker. He’s nice. He teaches middle school.”

Geno is clearly distressed. “And what happen?”

“Don’t you want to hear about Samantha’s potato salad?”

“Sidney.”

“Okay,” he laughs. “We just talked a little bit. He’s from a small town in Texas. He asked me if I wanted to get coffee. Doesn’t know hockey. He likes dogs, has a corgi named Biscuit.”

“Wait—”

“Then Deidre comes in and says, ‘Sidney’s boyfriend loves hockey.’ She’s had half a margarita. I think the whole backyard heard her. And then Samantha dropped her potato salad, but that might’ve been someone else.”

“Sid,” Geno groans. “I fly out tomorrow.”

“You are literally in the middle of playoffs. Do not come here.”

Deidre confirms that Samantha had been, in fact, the one who dropped the potato salad. But no one had really thought it a shame.

Geno shows up at Sidney’s front door exactly three days after the season ends. The Cup won’t arrive in Oregon until a month or two later, but Sidney surprises himself when he realizes that he could care less.

“Told you I come back in time,” Geno says, when he finally pulls back from kissing the breath out of Sidney. “I make you something”

It’s only then that Sidney notices the box Geno is holding. He pops the lid open, revealing a round, lumpy, very homemade thing that apparently had gotten an extra generous sprinkling of powdered sugar.

“Um, wow.” Sidney swallows, because otherwise he’s sure whatever is trying to bubble up his throat will just float right out of him, light as clouds, clear as bells, so the entire town, from Deidre to Samantha to Biscuit the Corgi, can see just how impossibly happy he is. “You really made it snow here.”

“Apple sharlotka. Is cake,” Geno tells him. “I call it The Sidney.”

And. Well. How can he not kiss Geno again?

So he does, pulling Geno down by his lapels so he can press his lips against Geno’s once more, slow and sweet and unapologetically indulgent like cheesecake, right on his front porch in Cardwell Point.

@DeesBakeryCafe

Lord Stanley’s come to Cardwell Point! Come by for a free Stanley Cup(cake) today from 1 – 2 PM, made by our very own Sidney Crosby (yes, that Sidney) and another special guest 👀

End

#retirement fic #theres dicks in this one guys #also can you tell how much I'm in love with the header #im crying you guys #thanks for sticking with me on this 3 part fic!!!!#maybe we can do timestamps for all the moments I wasn't able to fit in it #WHATEVER here just take it #typos and OOC and all #i'll fix it later

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gaycocksmodels64 · 4 years

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Big peewee Boy Got play From Backside Hanceville

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confessions-of-a-shipperholic · 4 years

Text

Behind the blog

Thanks for the tag @novemberhush

Icon: Daniel Radcliffe lol

My content: lots of ships and random shit, from Jamko (blue bloods) to Thiam (Teen wolf) to Bellarke (the 100) Johnlock (sherlock) to Mcshep (stargate atlantis) to mcdanno (hawaii 5-0) to buddie (9-1-1) to Chenford (The rookie) and everything in between.

Things that bring me joy, this blog is 100% a coping mechanism. I often vent about my mental health issues, I suffer from OCD and Anxiety. When I say this blog is a shambles, I mean it's a s h a m b l e s

Letter colour: minty green

Header: buddie by @/nicolettbuckley

URL: when I started this blog a few years ago, I needed a place to vent about my obsessions and 'confessions of a shipperholic' just came to me one night and I stuck with it. Still seems appropriate years on

My blog title: Weasel-bee, random but I was watching one of the Harry Potter movies (prisoner of azkaban I think?) and Draco calls Ron "weasel-bee" and it just made me laugh

I tag: @thegreatgherkin87 @popkin16 @chimbuckleys @grumpylittledoctor @ohblackberryblue you don't have to do it if you don't want to, take care

#behind the blog

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usuallyamazinglyaverage · 3 years

Text

Side By Side [Ethan x MC]

Hey there, ya lovely people!

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and got to celebrate the season of giving with your family and friends. To end this year properly, I’m back with a bit of writing :)

I’m not gonna lie, the two months before the holidays were really rough and I had to sort so much shit out. It just kept me from most things I love doing in my free time, including talking with my friends and writing. That’s why this one took me a while to finish.

(Nevermind the fact that I rewrote this fic like two times, but that’s a story for another day)

I’ll most likely take a break from OH oneshots for a while (unless inspiration strikes me), but I am still working on stuff, inluding one or two AUs and fics for some other fandoms. I hope a breather to get my muse back on track is alright with you all ;)

I wish you all a safe journey into the next year - let’s pray it’ll be a better one <3

As always, I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Please enjoy!

Summary: Big steps in a relationship are always difficult - this one is no exception.

Warnings: Just some light teasing and a bit of language - this is mostly cheesy fluff <3 (I know, I’m surprised as well)

Note: MC of the fic is Annabelle Dawson. I created the header myself, hope it’s pleasing to the eye :) This is set a few months after the end of Book 2.

Taglist: @perriewinklenerdie @andromedasinclaire @radlovedreamer @amillionmoonsred @hopelessromantic1352 @cordoniaqueensworld @paisleylovergirl @fangirlingmum @bucket-harrington @lu-ciq @fairyrink @princess-geek @cyb3r-kat @whenyourheartskipsabeat @lady-kato @queenof1000days @sunflowergirl05 @jlpplays1 @tacohead13 @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @padfoot0415 @desiree-0816 @togetherwearerapture @thisperfectmemory @furiouscloddonutpeanut @tabootheunicorn @rookie-ramsey @theroseduelist @drakewalkerfantasy @lapisreviewsstuff @jooous @aworldoffandoms @edgiestwinter @inlovewithrebels @topsyturvy-dream @cerisesayeed-ramsey @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @marywitchjane @adrianrainesworld @zodiacsign1 @silverlitskies @trappedinfandoms @sherlockedmcu @drethanramslay @awhmilkywey @htgawparksandrec @theeccentricbibliophile @mvalentine @desmaranj @schnitzelbutterfingers @colourmeshy @mal-volaris @kaavyaethanramsey @riverrune @honeyandsunfl0wers @humanpokemon @ethandaddyramsey @lilyvalentine @mrsdrakewalkerblog @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @datynasuha @caseyvalentineramsey @ethxnrxmsey @squishywizardhq @custaroonie @beckaroo @colossalpainintheass @takemyopenheart @justanotherrookie @honeyandsunfl0wers @maurine07 @grandnachoconnoisseur @dr-ramseys-rookie @myusualnerdyself @mrs-raleighcarrera @akshara16 @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @alookseeblog

Song: If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

Ethan tried very hard to not look like he was running – and was failing spectacularly.

Some of his colleagues had to dodge out of his way as he strode through the hallways, white coat fluttering behind him, hands stuffed into the pockets. Slipping into the stairwell, the attending took two steps at a time, reaching the bottom floor quickly.

The atrium was packed, lit by the bright gray sky beyond the ceiling windows - reminding him that he was supposed to be busy in his office right now. Christmas was just around the corner, and after Edenbrook’s reopening, the paperwork had simply piled up, barely giving him time to bring some distance between him and his desk.

He dreaded going back already - but there was something he had to take care of first. Something that felt pivotal for his motivation right now.

Turning his head, Ethan let his eyes wander through the spacious room, from the stairs to the entrance and back again. Finally, he spotted a mess of golden locks, tucked into the usual practical ponytail.

She was with her friends, Trinh and Varma, already dressed in her day-to-day clothes, the strap of her bag slung over one shoulder. The two other women gave her a hug, shooing her along.

Ethan couldn’t help but feel silly when her bell-like, resounding laugh made his heart lurch in his chest, lifting his mood immediately.

Anna turned on her heels with one last wave and headed towards the doors, tucking up her scarf and the lapels of her jacket to ward off the oncoming cold. He waited until her friends went back to their conversation before following her, maneuvering through the crowd and catching up with the younger doctor in the light snowdrift outside.

His hand on her shoulder coaxed a tiny yelp from her, hazel eyes looking up at him with a gratified sort of wonder.

"Ethan? What-"

The older doctor cut Anna off by directing her against the wall framing the entrance, cupping her chin and gently tilting it up for easier access. The kiss was rougher than he would have liked, muscle memory taking over as he nipped on the corner of her mouth.

His former intern, however, didn’t seem to mind, parting her lips with a soft sigh.

Sliding his hands to the back of her jaw, he drew Anna closer, the sugary taste of her dissipating the rest of his stress. He smiled when she grew boneless against him, delicate fingers twirling his tie.

Eventually, they had to come up for oxygen, both drawing away with barely audible hums. Anna’s thoroughly addled expression filled him with an odd pride, her lashes fluttering against her reddened cheeks.

"Is it my birthday?“ she breathed. "Did I accidentally invent the cure for cancer? There must be something I did to deserve this."

"Actually, I just... wanted to wish you a good day," Ethan murmured, tucking a lock behind her ear. "We barely saw each other the past few days. I feel like I can’t catch a break at the moment."

Tenderness seeped into her gaze, liquefying the color to a point where he wanted to drown in it and never come out again.

"Did this help?"

He chuckled. "More than you know."

"Well, feel free to do that anyti-"

"Anna?"

Ethan jumped away from her, whirling around.

This is what you get for leaving your office, a perfidious voice nagged at the very back of his tumbling thoughts.

The tip of his ears flushed hot and he had to force himself to not look away from the woman standing a few feet from them, a grin plastered on her face.

"Hi, gran," Anna offered weakly, pushing herself off the wall. "You, um, you remember Doctor Ramsey?"

Greta Dawson gave them both an impish wink. "Hard to forget this one, right?" She looked between the two for a moment. "You don’t call him 'doctor' usually though, do you? Not that I’m one to judge."

Jesus.

Ethan rubbed the flushed back of his neck, desperately trying to find his dignity among the thick snowflakes swirling from the sky.

He had met Anna’s pint-sized grandmother a little over a year ago, after assisting in an operation that had ultimately saved her life. She was a cheeky, terrifying force of nature, intimidating in a very specific way. Mostly because meeting her had felt substantial – even then. Greta was the only relative Anna had left and as such, the older doctor didn’t want to make a bad impression.

Which he probably just did. Wonderful.

Straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat, he offered his palm. "It’s nice to see you again, Greta." The old woman chortled, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "Likewise, Doctor Dreamy.“

Next to him, Anna groaned, burying her face against his chest. "Please take me back to work." Despite his still burning ears, Ethan frowned down at her. "Absolutely not. You worked the longest shifts this week." The blonde answered his frown with one of her own. "Traitor."

Her pout was distracting and painfully cute, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight. "Go," he urged after a moment of indulgence. "Spend some time with your family.“ The jig was already up, so he leaned down to press another gentle kiss to her lips, this one far more modest than he would have liked. "I’ll see you on Monday."

"I have a better idea," Greta interrupted cheerfully, twiddling her fingers at the two doctors. "How about you join our dinner tomorrow?" Opening and closing her mouth, Anna glanced at Ethan while shuffling her feet. "I mean I... I like that thought. We're making lasagna?"

There was that coyness of hers again, making him wonder if she really didn’t know how utterly charming she was – and that there were very few things that he wouldn't do for her.

"I like that thought too,“ he said, his voice quiet but certain, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Call me when you get home?“

"I will." Anna brushed her thumb along his scruffy jaw, smiling hesitantly.

"Have fun, Rookie." His blues flicked over to her grandmother, who was watching their exchange with obvious curiosity. "And, ah, you too, Greta."

The old woman winked once again. "We’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan."

“Damn.”

Anna stared into the mirror, grimacing at the smudge of mascara, just below her left eye. Sighing, she slipped the tiny brush back into the silver tube, exchanging it for q-tip to correct the mistake.

Her fingers were still shaky.

Wiping the black from her skin, she tried not to think about the man waiting for her in the kitchen – a hard thing to do when there were reminders of him all around her.

Her toothbrush rested next to his in a tall cup on the spacious sink.

Her towel occupied a shelf next to the shower.

His cologne and her perfume both permeated the air.

Reminders of him – reminders of them. All things she never would have thought possible half a year ago. Usually, the sight of shared commitment was a beautiful, giddiness-inducing facet of their relationship for her. Tonight, she couldn't help but wonder if Ethan was feeling smothered by it all.

Dinner with her grandmother was a step Anna hadn't even considered until she had caught them red-handed yesterday. Greta knew about Ethan, knew about the chaotic circumstances that had brought them together at last, but she had never expressed the wish to meet him in an official capacity.

Just one of the many firsts that he had been a part of.

Taking a deep breath, the young doctor tossed the q-tip into the trash bin, smoothing her hands along the burgundy fabric of her casual dress and her black tights – a last effort to calm herself.

The hallway outside of the bathroom was much cooler, making Anna shiver as she made her way to the kitchen.

Ethan was leaning against the island, his crisp white oxford peeking through his unbuttoned coat. Tapping away on his phone, he uncrossed his legs, dark slacks rustling quietly. He looked a little bit unreal in the dim light. An apparition, summoned by the farthest reaches of her mind.

“You're staring,” he informed her, finally looking up and interrupting her ogling.

Anna tried her hardest not to appear embarrassed, but her traitorous face heated at the comment anyway.

“You look nice,” she muttered, casting her gaze to the ceiling for a moment before meeting his once again.

Ethan chuckled, pushing himself off the island and crossing the distance between them. “You just stole my line.” His eyes swept over the dress, the blue heavy and eager. “Though 'nice' seems very much insufficient.” Stopping a few inches away from her, he pressed a lingering kiss to Anna's cheekbone. “You're stunning.”

The warmth in his voice broke her heart just a little. Anna wrapped her arms around his waist, letting his scent wash over her. Ethan stilled, one of his hands finding the back of her neck and weaving through the loose golden curls there. He didn't say anything right away, granting this moment of respite.

“You're nervous, aren't you.”

Perceptive as ever.

She released a long breath and traced the pattern of his coat. “Not because of the dinner itself.” Lifting her head, she studied his face before pressing on. “I'm just wondering if you're alright. We've really picked up the pace.”

Surprised, Ethan raised his brows. “Are you asking me if I have cold feet?”

“I... suppose I am.”

“Anna.” There was a note of gentle admonishment in his voice, urging her to listen. “You're here every second weekend. Yesterday, I practically begged you to come over, because we're barely seeing each other at work. Does that sound like I'm questioning my decision to be with you?” His lips brushed her temple. “I'll admit that your grandmother terrifies me. But that doesn't mean I don't want to get to know her better.”

“Well, now I feel silly,” she murmured sheepishly.

Ethan huffed out a soft laugh, tickling the shell of her ear. “Maybe I like that about you.” He pulled away, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You and your busy brain.” Lacing their fingers for a brief moment, he nodded his head towards the door. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Anna sighed, letting him help her put on her jacket and lead her out of the apartment.

The drive to her grandmother's place felt far too short.

Her leg wiggled every time they passed another green light, forcing Ethan to rest his palm on it to soothe her. He did so wordlessly, keeping it there until he shut off the motor and offering it to her when they walked up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment complex. She took it, ever grateful for his quiet support.

The blonde fumbled with her set of keys when they reached the door, almost dropping them when it opened on it's own, revealing a her apron-clad grandmother.

“Gran,” she chastised, letting the old woman pull her into a hug. “Were you waiting by the door?”

“Nonsense, dear,” Greta sniffed, rubbing her back with a little too much enthusiasm.

Anna could practically hear the lie in her affronted tone, masking her pained sigh with a small cough. “Right. A preposterous notion.”

“Just as preposterous as denying me this view for past few months.” Her grandmother gestured over to Ethan, who had watched their exchange with a subdued smile. “The women in our family did always have an eye for the finer things in life, I must say,” she mused. “Come in, you two.”

Anna couldn't help but swallow as she watched Ethan hang up his coat and enter her childhood home. The furniture, the décor and even the comforting smell of chamomile and laundry detergent was the same, reminding her of days past.

With him in the middle of it all, it felt like two separate dimensions colliding and forming something she couldn't quite name. He looked both out of place and like he belonged as they followed Greta into the kitchen.

Handing her grandmother the expensive bottle of Château Monbrison the young doctor had chosen from his wine stash a few hours ago, Ethan rubbed the side of neck. “Anna told me this is your favorite. Thank you again for the invitation.”

Greta regarded him with amusement. “That's a very sweet gesture, Ethan. Tell me, how good is your cooking?”

“I -” At a loss for words, he looked over at Anna.

“He's great,” she affirmed hastily, flushing at her choice of defense. “I mean his cooking. It's great. Very good.”

“Wonderful. How about you help me prepare the rest of the lasagna then, my boy?” Her grandmother patted Anna's shoulder. “Could you be a dear and set the table? I've already left the plates in the dining room.”

“But-”

“Snowbell.” Greta brushed a lock out of her granddaughters face. “Don't worry. You'll get him back without even one hair out of place.”

On her way out of the kitchen, Anna caught Ethan's gaze, the two doctors exchanging a small, equally nervous smile before they were separated.

In the quiet of the dining room, the blonde took a shaky breath, trying to sort her thoughts as she moved plates, glasses and silverware around.

She should have expected this.

Anna trusted and loved her grandmother, dearly, but she could be a bit much at times. Then again, she had never taken such an interest in any of her partners. In Canada, she had been too far away to truly introduce her first long-term boyfriend and once she had finally returned to Boston, the relationship was already over.

And Michael – well. Nothing good had come of being with him.

Ethan was the most complicated man she had ever met by far – but he was her future. The thought strengthened every day she spend with him, every time she looked into his eyes and every time he held her close.

It was far too soon to tell him, however.

And that was exactly why she was nervous about the prospect of her Greta and Ethan alone together.

“You've been holding that fork for quite a while now.”

Startled out of her musings, Anna turned around, almost stumbling into the older doctor. He caught her by the elbows, gently prying the silverware from her fingers and setting it down.

“You're done already?” she wondered, blinking at him.

Ethan chuckled. “It's been a little over ten minutes. Lost in thought again?”

“...Can you blame me?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it wasn't as bad as you probably imagined. You're supposed to show me your room, by the way. Something about it being the prelude to embarrassing baby pictures.”

The blonde groaned, hooking her arm around his and pulling him back into the hallway. “Fine. But you better be gentle. It hasn't been renovated since I was sixteen.”

“I thought you liked it when I'm not gentle,” Ethan teased, earning himself a smack to his chest when they entered the room on the far end.

Closing the battered wood behind them, Anna watched nervously as he moved to the middle of the room, his height dwarfing the old furniture to ridiculous proportions.

His gaze wandered over the walls, the faded teal plastered over by posters and photographs. Taking a few steps closer to the scratched up vanity next to her bed, the older doctor plucked a picture from the frame of the mirror.

She fought to urge to take it from him, mashing her lips together.

Her twenty-year-old self in this particular photo looked like a textbook nerd, much shorter locks braided into two pigtails and clutching her acceptance letter for Boston's med school, while she and Greta grinned at the camera.

Ethan reattached the picture with another chuckle. Then, his gaze fell on her nightstand - and on the book sitting on it.

More specifically, his book.

The unassuming cover was well worn, some of the pages dog-eared. Picking it up, he thumbed through it, raising a brow at Anna.

"What?" she asked a bit too forcefully, cheeks burning.

His mouth twitched, eventually losing the fight against the complacent expression overtaking his features.

"Someone’s a fan," he hummed. "Want to me to sign this one too?"

"That depends," the blonde huffed, crossing her arms. "Do I need to undertake another ridiculous task before you do it?“

Grinning, Ethan tossed the book back and crooked a finger at her. "How about you come over here and kiss me, Rookie? You can decide after if that’s asking too much."

"You’re ridiculous," she murmured, walking up to him hesitantly and slipping her hands around his neck with a pout. Something utterly triumphant twinkled in his deep blues as he craned his head down, meeting her in the middle.

The kiss was soft, slow and warm, tasting faintly of toothpaste. Ethan wrapped his arms around Anna’s waist, lifting her from her tiptoes and setting her down on the bed, his lips never leaving hers.

There was a comfort in his body covering her own, the pleasant buzz of it all coaxing a faint moan from her throat.

Eventually, they had to come up for air, Ethan’s nose nuzzling her cheek.

"You know, you're the first guy to make out with me on this bed," she said thoughtfully and brushed her knuckles over his jaw, enjoying the texture of his beard against her skin.

The attending pushed himself onto one elbow, his free fingers mapping the curve of her hip. "I'm not sure how much more information my ego can take. I'm this close to begging for mercy."

"Oh my god." Anna pulled him back to her by his hair, their laughter mingling until they were breathless once more.

Eventually, Ethan rolled off to the side, facing the younger doctor on the mattress. It was oddly soothing, having him share the tiny bed with her. A peaceful little bubble, after the start of what was bound to be an eventful afternoon.

It gave her courage to ask the question sitting at the forefront of her mind.

“What did you and my grandmother talk about?”

Ethan's jaw tensed for a brief second, his palm lifting to find her face.

“She told me about the state you were in the week after I had left for the Amazon.” His calloused thumb drew a half circle. “And to be more careful with your heart this time around.”

“Or she'll put you six-feet-under?” Anna questioned weakly.

“No.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “No, she asked me while offering me a glass of wine. She's just worried, princess. And she has every right to be.”

“Ethan...”

“I can't ever take back what I did, Anna,” he sighed. “We both know that. You forgive me so easily every time I mess up and I shouldn't take it for granted. Even your endless patience will run out eventually.”

“You're worth it. You always were.”

Hazel and blue connected, both achingly soft.

“So are you.”

Unspoken words, unspoken emotions, enriched by the dim light falling through pale curtains, drowning the space in silence and contentment.

“Should we get back?” Anna murmured, careful not to disturb the tender moment with her voice. “My grandmother is probably waiting for us.”

“In a minute.” Forehead tipping down to meet hers, Ethan dragged her close, breathing her in. “In a minute, sweetheart.”

A/N: So cheesy. Was a lot of fun to write though :3

#ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #choices oh #open heart #open heart 2 #playchoices #choices: stories you play #my writing #can you tell I enjoy Hallmark movies and bad humor #probably

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