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personwhowrites · 1 year

Note

Hi! I wanna say I love your work! I had a request and I was wondering if that’s okay with you. It’s okay if you don’t want to do it.

How TF141 + Alejandro + König react when Y/n die who was shot by enemy aiming at her heart. After the funeral, they found a flash drive when they look around in Y/n room missing her. The flash drive was a record video, they watch Y/n telling them a about great memories they’re having. Before the video is over, Y/n tell them they left a gift in their room before she die.

Floorboard

"Take down the target!" You transmit urgently over the radio. "Moving eastward."

"Lavender, hold up," Soap's voice crackles through the comms, stopping you in your tracks. "I see movement in that direction. Sniper!"

Scanning your surroundings, you spot König nearby. A gunshot echoes through the air and you hit the ground, König doing the same. Soap confirms the elimination of the sniper over the radio.

"Regroup at the safe house," Price commands over the comms. "Move out, soldiers!"

You and König exchange a look and get to your feet, ready to follow orders. Unbeknownst to Soap, another sniper lies in wait, their crosshairs trained on you. Before König can react, a bullet pierces your heart, sending you tumbling to the ground. König screams in shock and rushes to your side, cradling you in your final moments as the world fades to black.

".....My room...." You gasp, clutching König's hand. "My....ro...."

John “Captain” Price

Price struggled to accept that you were gone. He, too, was haunted by your death in the following days, much like the others. Often, he would find himself in your room after a night of heavy drinking, but he refused to smoke his cigars in there. He remembered how much you detested the smell, and he couldn't bear to add to the hurt that he felt in your absence.

On the day of your funeral, Price couldn't bring himself to look at the coffin that held your body. It was then that the finality of your loss hit him. The memories of all the times you had spent together were now nothing more than a painful reminder of what he had lost. Price found himself wishing he could relive those moments with you over and over again, but deep down he knew that was impossible now that you were truly gone.

As Price and Gaz stood alongside Soap, they overheard König mumbling to himself about your final words: "My room." Confused as to why König had never shared this information before, they wondered whether anyone else had been told. After the funeral, the group of men went out to drink, with Price and Gaz prodding König to reveal what he knew about your last words. Eventually, König let slip that you had indeed said something about your room.

Price and Gaz left the bar immediately and made their way back to the base. With a sense of urgency, they began tearing apart your room, searching for whatever it was that you wanted to show them. As they worked, Soap, Alejandro, Ghost, and König stood by, watching the scene unfold. Eventually, Soap and Alejandro joined in the search, combing every inch of your room for any clues. The room became a frenzy of activity as the group scoured it for anything that might have been important to you.

Soap eventually found a flash drive, but as soon as he did, Price snatched it out of his hands and ran to his office, not stopping until he was at his computer. Without a second thought, he plugged the flash drive in, not caring what might open. When he saw a file titled "141 team," he clicked it and began playing the videos. As the videos played, Soap and Gaz appeared behind him, watching over his shoulder with great interest. The three of them were transfixed by the footage, each lost in their own thoughts as they watched.

As the video played, Price's eyes were drawn to the date: just two days before your death. In the video, you looked incredibly excited as you pointed to the floorboard under the bed. The video ended abruptly, but Price had seen enough. He got up and pushed past Soap and Gaz, enlisting Alejandro's help to move the bed. They lifted the floorboard and found gift boxes and a note that read, "To my wonderful team."

Price grabbed a box with his name on it and opened it, revealing a hat. He held it close to himself, feeling the weight of your loss more deeply than ever before. Tears streamed down his face as he whispered your name, rubbing the material of the hat in his hands.

"Oh, y/n," he said, his voice breaking. "Y/n..."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

At first, Gaz was like Price, struggling to accept your death. He felt a deep sense of loss and guilt for not being there in your final moments. Gaz found himself drawn to your room, where he would sit in silence with Price, sharing the weight of their collective grief. Gaz didn't know how to confront the pain and confusion he felt, and found comfort in your presence even though you were gone. In those quiet moments, he tried to make sense of the void you left behind and find some sense of closure.

On the day of your funeral, Gaz stood by Price's side. He knew how much you meant to him, almost like a daughter. At first, Gaz couldn't bear to look at your open casket, the one your family had chosen for you. Eventually, he approached your lifeless body and tears welled up in his eyes. To him, you looked like you were just sleeping, but he knew you wouldn't wake up. Gaz made his way back to Price, who was with Soap and overheard König mumbling about your last words. Gaz looked at Price and Soap, making sure they had heard him too.

Gaz suggested going to the bar, but Alejandro declined and left without saying a word. König, Soap, Price, and Ghost went to the bar. Price was the first to ask about your last words, and Gaz and Soap followed suit when they noticed König was about to break. Finally, König revealed your last words about your room. Gaz and Price left the bar without paying for their drinks to immediately go to your room. As soon as they arrived, Gaz started moving tubes and searching for anything you might have hidden. When Soap and the others arrived at the door, Gaz gestured for their help, and he was relieved when they joined the search.

As soon as Soap found something, Gaz watched Price immediately snatch it and dash off to his office. Gaz saw Soap was also curious and without hesitation, they both followed Price. When they entered the room, Gaz saw that Price was watching videos of you and him. They clicked through the videos until they reached the last one. Gaz peered over Price's shoulder and saw the date. It was only two days before your death. Price abruptly stood up and rushed past Gaz and Soap, determined to go back to your room.

As Gaz watched the videos, he realized how much of your life you had recorded with them. Your voice echoed in the office as the videos played. Gaz couldn't take it anymore and ran to your room leaving Soap behind. The first thing he sees is Alejandro and Price moving your bed away. He was shocked to see them revealing something under the floorboards.

As Price started crying, Gaz ran over to him and saw the gifts, picking up the one in his name. It was a new British hat, something he had been needing. He heard Price mumbling to himself and whispering your name. Soon, Gaz found himself crying too

“..Bloody hell..” Gaz mumbles taking his own hat off. “Bloody hell.. y/n..”

John “Soap” MacTavish

Soap was just a few miles away from the location where you died, when he heard König call out that you had been hit. A wave of guilt hit him as he quickly shot the hidden sniper who had taken your life. The weight of your death was too much for him to bear, and he couldn't even bring himself to enter the hallway where your room was located. The pain was overwhelming, and Soap believed that it was his fault that you had died.

On the day of your funeral, Soap made an effort to meet every single family member he could. However, he couldn't help but feel crushed when he saw how different you were from your own family. The team knew you better than they did. As he saw your lifeless body in the casket, his heart ached. Soap closed the casket, not caring what others thought. He noticed Price standing alone and walked over, soon followed by Gaz. König was standing to the far right, muttering to himself about your last words and blaming himself for not seeing the sniper. Both Gaz and Soap exchanged a look, silently agreeing that they had heard König's words.

When Gaz suggested going to the bar, Soap reluctantly agreed, torn between wanting to mourn your death in private and wanting to be with his team. He looked around and was surprised to see Ghost already at the bar, but he didn't mention it to the others. As they drank, Price started questioning König about your final words, and Soap joined in, putting pressure on König to reveal what you had said. Eventually, König spoke up, causing Gaz and Price to leave without paying. Soap ended up paying for the drinks, while König and Ghost paid their share and hurried out of the bar. Alejandro was waiting outside the base, and Soap ran to your room, consumed by guilt and desperate to know what you had meant. He paused at the door when he saw Price and Gaz searching the room frantically, searching for something.

Soap nudges Alejandro for help as Gaz looks to them for assistance. Alejandro quickly gets to work while Soap hesitates for a moment before taking a deep breath and beginning to search through your desk. In the process, a flash drive falls out - everyone is aware that you weren't allowed to keep such a thing in your room. Soap brings it up, but before he can do anything, Price snatches it out of his hands and rushes off. Soap looks to König and Alejandro, both surprised by Price's behavior. Soap decides to follow Price and finds Gaz already there. Price proceeds to play the videos, but Gaz soon leaves the room. Ghost enters and watches the videos with Soap until he can't take it anymore and leaves Ghost alone. As Soap walks out of the room, he comes across Gaz and Price holding hats and crying.

Soap walks over to where Gaz and Price are holding hats and crying. He looks at the gifts and picks one up with his name on it. It's a handkerchief with the Scottish flag on the side. As he holds it up to his cheek, tears well up in his eyes. He realizes how much you will be missed by everyone, and he keeps himself silent as he listens to Gaz. The handkerchief feels like a tangible representation of your hand, and it makes him feel closer to you even though you are gone.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

As soon as König announced that you had been hit, Ghost felt paralyzed. He couldn't move or breathe, and the news that you had passed away in König's arms was too much to bear. He fell to his knees and let out a sob, realizing that he had lost someone else in his life whom he had promised to protect. Ghost was unable to process your death in a healthy way and closed off his feelings to everyone, even pushing Price away and leaving him to drink alone. Ghost forced himself to work until he was close to passing out, trying to distract himself from thinking about your death.

On the day of your funeral, Ghost found himself unable to attend. Instead, he went to the bar and ordered your favorite drinks, savoring each one slowly as if trying to hold onto the memories of you. He pulled out a photo of the group and you, staring at it with a heavy heart. The day you died, a part of him died too, leaving him feeling empty and hopeless.

Unbeknownst to him, the others had also decided to go to the same bar. As Soap entered, his eyes met Ghost's, and he slowly made his way over to join the rest of the team.

As Ghost listened to the men's conversation, he sensed an uneasiness in the air. Price was pressing König for something that he couldn't quite comprehend. But when König mentioned your last words, Ghost's attention was immediately grabbed. Gaz and Price quickly left the bar, leaving only Soap, König, and Ghost behind. Ghost watched as Soap offered to pay for their drinks, but he refused to let him pay for his own. König did the same and paid for his own drinks.

As the group rushed to the base, Alejandro was already waiting for them as if he knew what was going on. Ghost observed as Gaz and Price hurried to your room, with Soap and Alejandro following closely behind. König hesitated for a moment before following suit. Ghost trailed behind the others, but froze at the door to your room. Seeing people frantically searching for something made him feel a strange sense of distress. Just as Ghost was about to speak up, Soap announced that they had found a flash drive, which Price quickly snatched away.

Ghost observed as Gaz and Soap trailed behind, while Alejandro shook his head in exasperation and König hung his head, unwilling to witness the chaos caused by the group of four. Ghost surveyed the room, which was in complete disarray. He walked towards the desk, picked up a journal, and slipped it into his jacket slowly. As Ghost moved towards the door, he noticed Price rushing towards the room. Feeling concerned, he followed Price into his office, with Gaz passing by him. Inside, Soap was watching videos silently before finally leaving the room. Ghost glanced at the computer screen and noticed the dates on the videos. The last video played, revealing you pointing under your bed, wearing his favorite jacket. His heart sank, and he removed the flash drive, tucking it into his pocket. With frustration, Ghost took off his balaclava, sat down on Price's chair, and let out a deep, angry sigh.

“Fucking hell..” Ghost mumbles under his breath. “Y/n.. I never got to tell you.. how I felt..”

Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro's world plunged into darkness when everything occurred. The announcement of your death and the details surrounding it left him in utter despair. Coping with the situation was a challenge for Alejandro, particularly given the closeness he shared with you. Eventually, Alejandro composed himself enough to contact Rodolfo and recount the tragic events that had transpired. As he watched his formerly strong and compassionate acquaintances become numb, his own sense of isolation and grief intensified. The knowledge that he had no one to confide in about his feelings only compounded his pain.

On the day of your funeral, Alejandro remains in the background, intentionally avoiding anyone who tries to approach him. The last thing he desires is to have one of your family members interrogate him. Although he watches as Soap closes the casket, Alejandro experiences a sense of relief upon seeing it happen. He takes note of Ghost's absence and observes König standing in attendance, staring at his hands. Alejandro doesn't want to linger, as the sight of the blackness in the room causes his body to ache. He fears that one day, this same tragedy may befall him or someone he loves.

When Gaz suggests going to the bar, Alejandro declines and walks away. His feet carry him through the town, but his mind remains fixated on memories from the past, memories he wishes he could relive with you. He walks past each store, imagining how you would have loved to go inside and grab anything within your reach. Eventually, he makes his way to the base, gazing at it as he approaches. Memories flood back, recalling the first time he met you and how the team had initially thought he was crazy for not wanting to meet the entire team at once. He reminisces about how Soap would try to "translate" for you when he spoke Spanish, often saying the wrong things.

Alejandro soon hears the heavy footsteps of Gaz and Price as they run up to the base. He feels a sense of anger rising within him, although he can't quite understand why. He has a feeling that something is about to happen in your room. Alejandro follows Price, Gaz, and Soap to your room and observes as Gaz and Price search for something desperately. Soap elbows Alejandro to help, and he does his best, although he doesn't know what he's searching for.

After what feels like hours, Soap finally finds something. Price takes it away with Gaz following along after him. Soap waits for a few minutes before running after them. Meanwhile, Alejandro watches as Ghost takes a journal. His mind drifts off as König stares at the floor. Suddenly, Price rushes into the room once more, preparing to move the bed you once laid in. Alejandro quickly reacts and helps Price, slowly moving the bed as Price picks up a floorboard.

The sight of the gifts labeled with each member's name causes Alejandro's heart to sink even further. He hears Price softly sobbing as he holds a hat, and soon Gaz joins in, with Soap staring silently at his own gift. Alejandro kneels down and picks up a lighter, which has self-drawn roses with the Mexican flag on it. He sits down and leans against the wall, soon joining Gaz and Price in their sobs. The weight of the moment is almost too much for Alejandro to bear, and he feels as if the world is collapsing around him. The pain of losing you is almost unbearable, and he wishes he could turn back time and relive those moments with you again.

“Amor.. ay mi amor..” Alejandro mumbles softly holding the lighter in his hand. “Mi amor…”

König

König cannot and will never be able to get rid of the image of your death. The memory of how he held your hands while you whispered your last words made his entire world shatter. The sight of your eyes slowly closing and a smile on your face, even after death, has left an indelible mark on König's mind. He wasn't the kind of person to be impacted by someone's death, yet yours has made him crumble into dust. He wishes that the dust would fly away and he could forget the pain of that moment.

König will always feel guilty for not holding you closer in his arms, for not doing more to protect you. He can only stare at his hands and remember the weight of your body in them, as he replays the events of that day over and over in his mind. The grief and regret that he feels are almost too much to bear, and he wishes that he could turn back time and change the course of events.

On the day of your funeral, König was overcome with grief. The sight of all the black attire worn by your family and friends only served to intensify his sadness. He felt like he was on the verge of leaving the place, unable to bear the weight of his emotions. However, something kept him rooted to the spot. He stood there, his body stiff and unresponsive, staring at his hands, which felt empty and useless.

He couldn't help but think of your last words to him, which replayed over and over in his mind. He muttered them to himself, unable to shake the memory of you whispering them to him as he held your hand.

When Gaz suggested they go to the bar, he agreed, hoping that a drink or two could ease the immense pain he was feeling. However, he was unaware of what was about to unfold. Once they arrived, he ordered himself a few drinks, slowly sipping on them. Price then asked König a question that caused his entire body to freeze. König remained silent, but Gaz and Soap started to pressure him too. Eventually, König broke down and revealed the information they were seeking. Watching Price and Gaz rush out made him feel uneasy. He wondered if they were going to cause some trouble. Soap offered to pay for everyone's drinks, but he paid for his own. König didn't want Soap to pay for his drinks, so he followed Ghost's example and paid for them himself. Upon returning to the base, König saw a hint of anger on Alejandro's face, something he wished he could understand.

Everything that happened afterwards was a blur for König. At first, most of the group was searching through your room, but then it suddenly stopped. König felt people rushing out of your room but he didn't notice anything. He stared at his hands again, not wanting to see the mess in your room. When he felt two more people walking away from the room, he looked up and saw Ghost stuffing something into his jacket before walking away. It was a couple of minutes later that Price returned, and König was still lost in his own thoughts, unaware of the movement of your bed. He took some time to look up again, only to find Soap, Gaz, Price, and Alejandro looking down at the floor, each holding something in their hands. König walked over to them and saw that they were all holding gifts that he had helped you secretly get. König knelt down and picked up his own gift - a small stuffed cat. He then looked at the rest of the gifts and saw that they were all in perfect condition, even after so many months.

“..Y/n.. Im sorry..” König mumbles holding the stuffed cat close to his heart. “I’m sorry..”

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

Text

Wrong Bat

Winter Whumperland: Day 10. Abducted

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, gn!reader

Summary: Someone discovers your boyfriend is part of the Batfamily so you are abducted and tortured for their identities. Too bad they didn't realize which Bat you were dating.

Word Count: 1229

TW: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Capture, Rescue, Slight Blood, Slight Beating, Shoulder Dislocation, Tied by Wrists to Ceiling, Mentions of Guns

Whack.

Your head snapped to the side as yet another blow slammed into your battered body, this time your face. You tasted blood as your lip split open, just another injury to add to your growing list. The chains that were suspending your arms above your head rattled as your momentum caused you to sway slightly with your bare toes dragging across the floor. Your shoulders were screaming out in pain but you refused to give your captures the satisfaction of crying or groaning. You just had to hold out a little longer….

The lead man, the one who introduced himself as Fisher, grinned as you lifted your head and he saw the blood running down your chin. “You had enough yet? Or do I have to mess that pretty face up even more?”

“Go to hell,” you growled.

Fisher muttered something to his men in a language you didn’t understand, but whatever it was made them all laugh. Turning back to you, he said, “Just one name and we will free you. It doesn’t have to be your bat boyfriend, any one of them will do. Tell us a single one of their true identities and I won’t have to keep hurting you.”

Glaring daggers at the man before you, you hissed, “You idiots think you’re so smart using me as bait. But just wait until he comes for me. When he’s done, you’ll be lucky if you can even wipe your asses by yourself.”

Fisher pulled a long knife from his belt and twirled it playfully. “Oh yeah? And what’s he gonna do? Bust in here and hit us with his little sticks?”

The other men started to laugh again but the sound died down as they all saw the wide, bloody smile spreading across your lips. Spitting out a large glob of red-tinted saliva, you said, “Wrong bat, asshole. My boyfriend’s the one who uses guns.”

As if on cue, the glass ceiling above you shattered, and a large figure dropped heavily to the floor. Slowly rising up to his full height amongst the dust and debris caused by his entrance, Jason looked like your own personal demon rising from the depths of hell to rescue you. In some ways, it wasn’t a completely inaccurate description.

“Hey, baby,” you said as he turned towards you. “Welcome to the party.”

Though Jason was wearing his helmet, you could feel his eyes scouring your body, cataloging each and every cut or bruise they had given you. You gave him a small nod to let him know you were okay but the rage emanating off of him was so intense it was almost a visible wave of fury. Giving you his own nod in return, he turned towards the men as he drew his guns.

You couldn’t see a lot of what was going on from your position, but you heard the screaming and gunfire. Cursing silently under your breath, you just hoped that Jason could restrain himself somewhat in his current rage-fueled rampage. The last thing either one of you needed was to deal with Bruce’s outrage over the death of one of these assholes.

After a few minutes, the sounds began to dwindle until the room was mostly silent save for the occasional low moan of pain. Then you heard the familiar sound of heavy combat boots stalking in your direction and Jason’s helmet suddenly appeared before you. Slipping it off to reveal the small red domino mask underneath, he cupped your battered face in his hand.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked as he gently ran his thumb over the bruise on your cheek.

Leaning into his touch, you murmured, “I am now. Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Every time,” he said, pressing his lips to your forehead. “But let’s not make this a habit, alright?”

You chuckled. “Aww, but I love seeing you in action.”

“Then watch the bodycam footage from the Batcave.” He dropped his hand and turned to examine the bodies strewn around the room. “Which one’s got the keys?”

You nodded your head towards Fisher. “Inside jacket pocket.”

As Jason bent down and began digging through his pockets, Fisher started to raise his head with a groan. However, a quick punch to the face made him unconscious once more.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do that,” you said as Jason returned to your side with the keys.

He didn’t respond as he unlocked your cuffs and you collapsed into his arms. Your legs felt numb after hanging for so long and Jason wrapped his arms around your waist while you regained your footing. Once you were able to take a few steps on your own, he slowly released you.

You tried rolling your shoulders but between the stiffness and pain, you quickly gave up that idea. However, Jason must have seen your expression because he reached out and ran his hand lightly over your shoulder. “Where’s it hurt?”

“Just all over. My shoulders are stiff from hanging like that for so long and I think the left one might be dislocated. Also, my ribs are pretty bruised, but I don’t think they’re broken.” You ran your fingers gently across your midsection and groaned

Jason stepped closer and brushed his lips against the edge of your ear, “How about I take you home and give you one of my deep tissue massages? I’ll even use that expensive lotion that you like.”

You closed your eyes and hummed, “Mmm, don’t threaten me with a good time, mister. You know what your massages do to me.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” He nuzzled his nose deeper into your hair. “A deep massage, followed by a long bath together, and then we’ll see where the night takes us.”

“That sounds like Heave– AH!” you cried out as Jason suddenly grabbed your arm and shoved your shoulder back into place. However, the blinding pain only lasted a few seconds before fading to a dull ache, which was a huge improvement from moments before. “Thanks.”

Jason nodded. Reaching out, he swiped his thumb across your chin and when he removed it, you saw it was covered in blood. Jason stared down at it as he growled, “You have nothing to thank me for. I’m the reason you’re here in the first place.”

Grabbing his chin between your finger and thumb, you forced his head up so he was looking at you. “Hey, this wasn’t your fault, it was mine. I got sloppy and let someone see us together while you were in the suit. Then I wasn’t paying attention and let them grab me. I should’ve been more careful. But I’ll be fine, babe. Because you saved me. Okay?” He nodded softly and you released his face. “Good. Now take me home. I seem to remember you mentioning a back rub? And afterward, maybe I’ll think of some way of repaying you for saving me.”

Jason grinned. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.” Despite the split in your lip, you pressed your mouth against his.

As he kissed you back, Jason pulled out his grappling gun with one hand and wrapped his other arm around your waist. Holding you tightly, he fired the gun and the two of you were lifted up out of the warehouse and into the night.

Taglist: @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @lolzghost, @thefictionalcharacterssimp, @venomsvl, @sugarysweetsandpainfulteeth, @your-friendly-neighborhood-al, @hellfire-fan-club, @blue-aconite

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fizzyxcustard · 10 months

Text

Covert Eyes (21)

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references, angst, smut, heartbreak, gunshot wounds and recovery, abduction, hostage situation.

Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control. Amy is now working for MI-5, after being recruited by Ros. But will her involvement with Lucas cause even more problems and heartbreak?

Official soundtrack list: here

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in.

The first day back was quiet, slow and fairly uneventful. Amy remained with Tariq, scouring CCTV footage from a new case that had landed on the main desk of section D. Lucas was in a three hour meeting with Ros, Jo and Harry, discussing the Robert Spiller case.

“Lunch time in a bit,” Amy said, swivelling on her chair, in her usual child-like manner.

“You are obsessed with food,” Tariq chuckled. “Are you sure Lucas feeds you enough at home?”

“I know my priorities, and food is one of them.” With that, Amy opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a Mars bar from a multi pack. “Want one?”

Tariq chuckled again. “Go on, then. I was supposed to be starting back at the gym tonight. Looks like I’ll have to forego another day.”

“Come on, one chocolate bar won’t hurt you.”

Once Lucas’ meeting was finished, he dashed out of the room and over to Amy’s desk. He perched on the table next to her, looking down as she smiled up at him from her chair. His heart filled with so much love for her, that he knew he’d never felt anything like this before. Whenever her large, green eyes focused on him, he found himself dissociating from the world around him. He reached out and took her hand, holding it for a few seconds, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. Then his thumb grazed her engagement ring.

“I’m going to be home late tonight,” Lucas said. “I’ve got a fair bit to do on Spiller, and Harry’s asked me to brief the Midlands team who are going out tonight on surveillance. Will you be okay going home on your own?”

“Of course I will. I’m a big girl, after all.”

Lucas sighed. “Aim, I just worry, that’s all.”

“Come on, let’s go and grab something to eat. I think I’ve driven Tariq mad keep talking about food.”

“You’ve got that right!” Tariq’s playful voice came from across the room as he walked away, ready to make another mug of coffee.

***

Amy left the office around 5:15pm that evening with Tariq and Ruth. All three of them ventured out into the cold air, pulling their scarves and gloves on tighter. They separated, going in different directions. Amy continued on towards Lambeth Bridge, crossing over it, weaving between fellow commuters and tourists. The sky was pitch black and littered with silver stars, as if someone had thrown glitter against a silk backdrop.

Amy took her phone from her pocket and saw a new message from Lucas.

Be safe. I love you. Xxx

Whenever he said or wrote those words ‘I love you’, Amy still felt a slight pang of disbelief amongst her excitement. Thankfully, that voice which had always boldly told her she would never be enough, was gradually turning into a whisper.

She looked out across the river at the London Eye, watching the colours change. One day she would come out early, grab a coffee, and sit down at the riverside and draw it; she’d already planned it all in her mind. Maybe even draw Big Ben and Parliament. Amy had always liked coming out into London when it was early and few people were yet roaming the street. She felt comfortable and safe, being more alone and less likely to be disturbed.

***

Lucas took the underground back to his and Amy’s flat. For the duration of the journey, Lucas flicked through photos of himself and Amy. A few of them were from New Year up in Coventry, with Amy’s brother in law and nephew photobombing in the background of one, and in another, Amy’s dad had been caught to the side, his eyes closed and his mouth puckered, just ready to take a sip of beer: not the most flattering of poses. His favourite was still a photo of them snuggled up on the sofa together, Amy with her head on his shoulder, grinning childishly. They’d only been together two months or so when he took this photo, and already they both looked happy.

It was around seven weeks away from their one year anniversary, and Lucas had begun thinking of gift ideas. He had already brought her jewellery for Christmas. And Amy’s birthday was also approaching, being the last day of January. Lucas had been taking mental notes of items Amy had mentioned, like a pair of tartan Converse she been eyeing on their last shopping trip. Then there was Valentine’s Day! It was all coming together in one swoop. However, Amy’s training was due to start the second week of February, so Valentine’s and their anniversary would need to be celebrated over their available weekends.

It had been strange that she had not text him that evening since leaving Thames House. Normally if one of them was in the office and the other at home, they would text back and forth. Their texts were usually about what meals were planned for dinner and what film they would be watching, with some playful banter in between.

Upon the walk from the underground station to their street, Lucas checked his phone. No new messages.

Maybe she had been tired and went for a nap ahead of him returning home. Possibly? But doubtful. It was rare, if not completely out of character, for Amy to not text him while they were apart.

As Lucas turned his key in the lock and opened the door to the flat, he was surprised to see that no lights were on. Normally if Lucas returned and Amy was already there, she would leave a lamp on in the hallway, which cast a faint light through into the kitchen and dining area.

Immediately he sensed that something was amiss. It was just past eleven at night, so Amy was probably in bed, either reading, scrolling on her phone, or sleeping.

Lucas went to the bedroom. Dark and empty.

He called her name and stepped into the bathroom. Nothing.

Lucas took his phone from his pocket and found Amy’s number and called.

“The person you are calling is not available…”

Lucas growled and then called Harry.

“Lucas? Is everything alright?” Harry Pearce’s professional yet concerned voice came.

“Have you requested Amy go back in?”

“No, why?”

“She’s not at home. All the lights were off and she hasn’t told me she’s going anywhere, which isn’t like her.”

“Maybe she’s met up with a friend. There are many reasons she might not be home. Try not to worry.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Lucas said, sighing in frustration. He knew her. Amy would never have left the flat without leaving the lamp on, and certainly would never have disappeared so late and not told him. Even if she had bumped into a friend on the way home, for instance, she would have still text Lucas to let him know she would be late returning home.

The only other person who Lucas could think of who might have seen her was Debbie from her old work place. But Lucas didn’t have her number to contact. For a minute, he sat down on the bed, on Amy’s side and looked at her bedside table. Her current reading book, an empty mug, a Tinkerbell figurine, a black Moleskine journal for her doodles.

Of course no one would believe him at this point that Amy was missing; no one knew her patterns like him. He picked up her purple pyjama bottoms and felt dread fill him to the core. Something was definitely wrong. Even if no one could yet see it.

“Where are you, angel?” he whispered. “Tell me where you are.”

By the time it had turned midnight, Lucas knew with absolute certainty that Amy was missing. He grabbed his Belstaff jacket from the hallway, and picked up his keys off the small table next to the letter rack. At the front was an electricity bill that had come that morning. Lucas eyed their names: Miss. A. Holland and Mr. L. North. She’d been so happy when their first joint mail had come, giggling happily.

“One day, not too far away, and it’ll say Mrs. A North.” Something so simple had made her so ecstatic. It was in those moments, when something so simple made her smile, that Lucas fell even more deeply in love with her.

Back on the Grid, Lucas logged on to one of the computers. Only one or two people flitted past him, disappearing down corridors, until a familiar face appeared from around the edge of one of the computers.

“Malcolm?” Lucas exclaimed.

“You’re in late.” The middle aged man was shocked to see Lucas in the office so late of a night. “Are you back for the Spiller case.”

“I think Amy’s missing,” Lucas told him. “She never came home tonight. I got back and the flat was empty and there were no lights on. She always leaves the lamp on in the hallway when I get in after her.”

“Maybe she forgot…”

“Malcolm, I know her. I live with her. She hasn’t text me all evening, which is unlike her. We constantly text. Can you run all recent footage in the area and track her phone?”

Malcolm started by opening Amy’s employee record. Her photo filled the screen, and as it did, Lucas smiled sadly. The memory of her lying unconscious in hospital surfaced. His beautiful Amy. His wife-to-be. The future Mrs. Lucas North.

“What’s her mobile number?”

Lucas reeled off her number by memory, and Malcolm entered the number into the tracking programme, whilst he run her photo against all CCTV in London. Amy’s photo remained locked on the monitor in the left hand corner as random faces appeared and disappeared, within milliseconds, hundreds of faces being analysed.

“Her phone was last monitored by a local cell tower at 5:32pm. Coordinates show that she was at South Bank…”

“Heading for the train home,” Lucas interrupted. “That must have been when I sent her my last text message.”

“Her phone has no reception and hasn’t been used since, not even on the Wi-Fi.”

Terror racked through Lucas and he eyed the faces which were still flipping, none of them staying on screen for longer than a quarter of a second. A blur of eyes, noses, skin colours and hairstyles. “Come on, angel,” he whispered. “Come on! Give us something.”

A match appeared on the screen; a scene of Amy walking past a pub enlarged on the screen. An address appeared and the coordinate of the building. “South facing camera from the front door of The King’s Head…”

The rest of Malcolm’s words seemed to dissolve away as Lucas began writing down the address of the pub from the screen. “What time was this?”

“5:40.”

“Just before she got to the underground station. Did your search then include all the underground lines?”

“Yes.”

“So she didn’t get on a train because she would’ve been picked up on the cameras. Can you check all the vehicles parked in that street and also within a half mile radius, see if anything stands out? And…” Lucas’ voice broke and he hung his head, resting back on the desk behind him.

“We’ll find her,” Malcolm reassured.

All Lucas could see in his mind was Amy in his arms, and blood staining his hands and shirt. He could hear her whimpers as he held her, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. There was no way he could let that happen again. It was his duty to protect her, first and foremost. Fuck everyone else. Only Amy mattered.

“This has got to be connected with Sarah. Why else would anyone target her?” Lucas asked, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Even in death and the bitch wouldn’t leave him alone.

An hour later and Harry and Ros had arrived, both with a coffee in hand to attempt to wake them. Harry immediately approached Malcolm, who was sifting through all the vehicle registrations that had been in the vicinity of where Amy was last seen.

Meanwhile, Lucas was sat at Amy’s desk.

“Is he absolutely sure Amy is missing?” Harry enquired, whispering to Malcolm. “Could he be jumping the gun on this one?”

Malcolm sighed. “I wouldn’t have called you in, Harry, if I didn’t feel there was something wrong. Amy was last seen here,” and with that, Malcolm pointed to a map on the screen. “CCTV footage caught her walking past The King’s Head, approaching the underground station. Then she went out of shot. None of the underground cameras saw her. She must have disappeared in that street.”

Ros stood next to Lucas, remaining silent. She felt sadness at the sight of him with his head held low. Next to the time when Amy had been shot, Ros had never encountered Lucas looking so beaten down.

“I’m not going to say it, Ros, but you know I’m thinking it,” Lucas sighed.

“I know you all too well by now, Lucas. Of course you’re thinking it. And you still blame me for recruiting her.”

Lucas stared at Amy’s empty Winnie the Pooh mug on the desk and felt as if his whole chest were compressing, about to implode.

“You shouldn’t be here. We’ll take this from here. Go home.”

Lucas looked up at Ros, his ice blue eyes full of turmoil. “How can I go home? I need to find her.”

Harry walked over. “Ros is right. You can’t be working on this. You’re far too close to her.”

“And that’s exactly the reason I should be working on this. I knew as soon as I got home that something was wrong. I know her behaviour, her ways. You need me to be on this. You barely know her yet.”

“Lucas…” Harry began sternly.

“No, Harry! She’s almost died once because of me, and now I know in my gut that this is connected to Sarah again. I’ve pulled her too far into my life, and it’s constantly putting hers at stake. I should never have got involved with her. I shouldn’t have ever spoken to her in the café and just ignored that want to get to know her…” Tears fell down Lucas’ cheeks in quick procession, and he put his hands to his face, weeping behind them.

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @xxbyimm @knittastically @middleearthpixie @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @meganlpie @luna-xial @evenstaredits @missihart23 @quiall321 @sazzlep @lemond57 @rachel1959 @mrsdurin @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @bookworm-with-coffee @danzalladaggers

#Lucas North #Richard Armitage #Spooks #MI-5 #Lucas North x OC #Lucas North x OFC #Lucas North x Original Female Character

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 year

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Wrong Bat

Winter Whumperland: Day 10. Abducted

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, gn!reader

Summary: Someone discovers your boyfriend is part of the Batfamily so you are abducted and tortured for their identities. Too bad they didn't realize which Bat you were dating.

Word Count: 1229

TW: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Capture, Rescue, Slight Blood, Slight Beating, Shoulder Dislocation, Tied by Wrists to Ceiling, Mentions of Guns

Whack.

“Go to hell,” you growled.

Fisher pulled a long knife from his belt and twirled it playfully. “Oh yeah? And what’s he gonna do? Bust in here and hit us with his little sticks?”

“Hey, baby,” you said as he turned towards you. “Welcome to the party.”

“Are you okay?” Jason asked as he gently ran his thumb over the bruise on your cheek.

Leaning into his touch, you murmured, “I am now. Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Every time,” he said, pressing his lips to your forehead. “But let’s not make this a habit, alright?”

You chuckled. “Aww, but I love seeing you in action.”

“Then watch the bodycam footage from the Batcave.” He dropped his hand and turned to examine the bodies strewn around the room. “Which one’s got the keys?”

You nodded your head towards Fisher. “Inside jacket pocket.”

As Jason bent down and began digging through his pockets, Fisher started to raise his head with a groan. However, a quick punch to the face made him unconscious once more.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do that,” you said as Jason returned to your side with the keys.

You closed your eyes and hummed, “Mmm, don’t threaten me with a good time, mister. You know what your massages do to me.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” He nuzzled his nose deeper into your hair. “A deep massage, followed by a long bath together, and then we’ll see where the night takes us.”

Jason grinned. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.” Despite the split in your lip, you pressed your mouth against his.

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @11thstreetvigilante, @merlehs,@mayhem24-7forever, @sunshineflowerchild789, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @schaarfyx, @happinessricardotapia

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ankhisms · 7 months

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ok so the other day i was looking thru my queueuee just a little bit (not all of it bc theres 900 posts in there) and deleting some posts that i didnt really want to reblog anymore/retagging things and i saw this image again and i desperately want that red buster plushie. but my dillemma is that i KNOW that super sentai shows from the 2010s like gobusters didnt get cute marketable plushies like zenkaiger/donbros/kingoh have gotten. so i was like okay where did this plushie come from is it a custom order thing and i stopped thinking about it and then yesterday evening i had an epiphany. i realized that i had never looked up merch for the power rangers show they made out of the gobusters suit footage.

and it was a fucking treasure trove because first of all i found incredibly endearing old 90s power ranger plushies and other toys which were very wonky and very cute and i love them but also this is important to me because toei never made any action figures of my beloved computer freak duo sadly. i have scoured the face of the earth to figure out if toei and bandai ever made escape and enter suit action figures and im about 99.9% sure that they never did. but you know who fucking did? thats right baby

i choked on the chips i was eating when i saw these like HEY THATS MY FUCKING WEIRDO

but even more important than this are these right beneath the awful computer guy

THEY GAVE USADA CARROT GUNS AND A HELICOPTER FUNCTION AND THEY GAVE NICK A FUCKING BAZOOKA

so anyway that was my adventure last night. unfortunately i did not find any plushies for gobusters and i want the one in the original picture desperately so if you know where the hell i can get my grubby hands on one let me know thanks

#gobusters lb

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brightatmidnight · 1 year

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Understanding the Art Behind Trailer Making

For this week's blog, we wanted to share some behind the scenes info on how Eos made our latest trailer so awesome and reflections on our past trailers as well! Enjoy!

Last week, we made a post showing off the new trailer for The Chaser’s Voyage and it’s a video I’m personally very proud of. To make it, I went back to the basics to learn more about video editing and, specifically, more about how to make good trailers.

First, let me go over some of the follies I think I made during our last trailers. I’m okay with admitting that they weren’t the best trailers, or even “good” game trailers, because I’m still learning this whole process. Trust me, when I started making this game with Cameron, I had no idea about all the things I’d have to learn and do for marketing purposes.

Do not be mistaken though, I am proud of those older trailers. I think editing and style wise they are pretty good. Our reveal trailer is pretty boring visually, but there are hints of something stylish buried beneath an understandably amateurish composition. Our steam trailer, I like to think, has a lot more flair with trailer unique animations and swooshing character introductions, but it was flair in the wrong direction. Seeing hypothetical people’s perspectives can be really rough. I’ve spent so much time with Edwin, Tai, Nila, and Wolfe, that I forget that most people don’t know how awesome they are. Still, this trailer came about after I redid our entire user interface, meaning my skills in GIMP were still burgeoning.

I really like this composition and still think the effects are really cool, but without anyone really knowing our characters, most people would tune this out.

Our early access trailer wasn’t actually meant to be our “big trailer.” It was meant to be a smaller trailer that used the flashier steam trailer as a supplement. You can actually tell though that some of the problems with our marketing strategy were starting to be addressed. Less emphasis on the characters nobody knows about and an attempt to better communicate the mechanics of the game. Still, more often than not, audiences did not seem to see what made our game unique and why it was fun. Your advertisements are often the first time people encounter your game, especially in the wild, so making a good first impression that catches people’s attention is absolutely essential.

As I detailed a couple months ago, for this new video, I went back to the basics and scoured the internet for resources to learn how to make a better game trailer. Luckily, professional game trailer editor Derek Lieu has many videos and articles all about the art form. There’s still so much more to learn and do, but for anyone who wants to learn how to make a trailer on their own, I couldn’t recommend Derek’s stuff more.

For our newest trailer, there’s a few key things I experimented with. The first was zooming in to block off the UI. Unlike many other games, our game is VERY UI dependent. How you interact with the UI is how you play the game, so turning it off completely was just not going to happen. For a long time, I was worried that zooming in so much to completely block off the UI would make the game look not as crisp and that might leave a bad impression, but after some tests, I found that it actually looked really great at 1080p. So with that fear assuaged, I used a lot of zoomed in footage to better get across the daring space adventurer vibe without worrying about the UI detracting at all from that. It also made the beginning of the trailer feel much more dynamic.

It’s worrying that this could give a false impression of how The Chaser’s Voyage is played, but what was more important was just hooking people’s attention.

I also learned how to do picture-in-picture in order to better highlight certain elements (and by that I mean the power management mechanics). This actually allowed me to still show off our characters a bit by connecting them to the primary mechanics. A little pip shows which system is going up, a banner says what action the player will get to do, and the character lets the audience associate the system with the character.

Sound mixing and balancing was also a big focus this time on the trailer. I made sure that every cut was on some sort of beat and that the music was properly balanced to emphasize the voices when they were talking, but to also emphasize the music when nobody was talking. Which is important because our music is still incredible. These are all things I learned from Derek’s videos and articles.

Lastly, it was just making sure we showed off everything we’ve done since the last trailer and this one. Showing off cutscenes, using our new Steam thumbnail art, and even using new character art for the villain of the game, that we showed off as a wallpaper a while back. We also were able to include our player death stops for a very dramatic and suspenseful ending.

While progress can be slow, I feel like we’ve made a lot of progress nonetheless. Cutscenes were a huge milestone for us!

The results were a better trailer. One that I think really shows off what we love about The Chaser’s Voyage and will hopefully be the reason everyone else loves it too. It was totally a lot of work, but it goes to show you that as long as you’re willing to put in the work, check your ego at the door, and always be trying and doing, you can go from a know-nothing novice to a knows-a-little-bit novice like me.

For more updates on The Chaser’s Voyage, be sure to check back on our blog, follow us on Twitter, or join our Discord! If you wish to play The Chaser’s Voyage, you can buy it while we’re in Early Access on Steam! (On sale for 49% off, $10.19, till 03/23/2023!)

-Eos//G

#The Chaser's Voyage #roguelike #early access #Steam #indie #indie games #indie dev #game dev #game development #video games #game #Bright at Midnight

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gcsly · 3 years

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Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsunoda as very professional colleagues

#pierre gasly #yuki tsunoda #they’re emitting too much wholesomeness red bull don’t h dare touch them #f1 #*rins #*gif #*pg10 #*yt22 #okay let’s scoure more footage #realiszation:fuck i think i forget sharpen maybe i’ll come back

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yoongsisbae · 2 years

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it's that time again where I get excited and happy about the new chapter I'm about to release instead of wanting to set fire to my computer. :D

Here is the intro to HOAL ch9 just for my followers, thank you for liking this chaotic blog 💗💗

---

Against your better judgment you open the link. A radio station had taped some behind the scenes footage. When you track the video to the time...you saw it, your face, going over your notes while the members joke and laugh in the foreground.

Another Facebook alert from your ex pulls down from the top of your screen.

‘Let’s talk?’

The van door opens at that moment, and the members look at your wide eyes full of fear.

--- ---

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, he doesn’t know anything. I didn’t tell him anything,” you repeat.

“He knew I was leaving the country for a new job, that’s it.” Saying it out loud made you feel horrible, but what he did just confirms you had been right not to give your ex any details.

��Do you have any reason to believe he will try to start a rumor, go to the media, or do anything to try to hurt you, BTS, or the BTS brand?” The PR woman looks up from her tablet expectantly.

Ugh, this is not what you signed up for. Or maybe you did, when you signed off on all those NDAs, remember? ‘Stupid stupid, what are you about to do?’

“I don’t know,” you grimace, muttering, looking over to Namjoon, the leader seated next to you. “We weren’t even that serious, I don’t know what more he wants.”

Namjoon places his fingers over your fidgety ones, thumb running along your knuckles. “Everything will be fine, the company handles things like this all the time.”

The PR woman looks between you, “Is there anything either of you would like to share so we can get ahead of it?” You pull your hands away from underneath Namjoon’s, feeling sick under her scrutinizing gaze.

This is your worst nightmare coming to life right before your eyes. This is why it took so long to even entertain the idea of reaching out to Namjoon. The thought of your name linked to theirs in headlines, netizens scouring every corner of your digital past to ruin you makes your stomach turn. You turn your head, searching for the answers to your problems in Namjoon’s determined eyes.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, ready to recite the information the group all agreed on...

---

The car ride back to Hybe remained tense and quiet. The group’s leader and his manager were quietly going over the video and your phone messages, while Jimin held your shaking hand in his. ‘Let’s talk?’ had started it, then he became more aggressive when you didn’t answer.

The van travels over a bump in the road and it jolts you out of your thoughts. Was it still your own inner dialogue that now tries to calm you, or was that voice of reason a remnant of your past selves? Or more worrying, was that voice of reason, the last remnant of who you used to be before your life changed? Who are you now?

This time, Yoongi’s calm voice replayed in your ears, to count and focus before you really lose your mind.

As buildings blurred past, you felt like running, you imagined yourself running, escaping, falling through sand, falling through water, always running…

But you were stuck, in a car, amongst the souls you ran with. You didn’t want to run away from them. You couldn’t, even if your toes and fingers felt jittery with fear and anxiousness.

“Hey,” he whispers, “Look at me.” You lift your head away from the window to look Jimin in the eyes. “It will be okay, y/n.”

Seokjin turns around in his seat to look at you, repeating Jimin’s soothing words. “It’s going to be okay, our company is great at stopping rumors.”

‘It’s not a rumor though, is it?’ you think, looking into Jin’s loving eyes and feeling the weight of his ring around your finger. If you aren’t careful you could ruin everything. You were afraid of this. The universe is telling you to stay away from them.

---

That night you slept next to Jungkook.

He looked more worried than you when you said goodbye to the group. His worries were of losing you instead, hyper aware of when you begin to close off, so he pleaded with you to let him drive you home and stay at the dorms for another night.

His comforting presence helped calm your nerves. And when you woke, you were in a bed of hay. It’s a dream, you know it’s a dream, even as you sit up and run your hands across the strands of dead grass and you feel the hay scratch your palms. You feel Jungkook close to you, and a soft voice quietly begs you not to let him go this time. And another voice, more stern and apathetic, tells you not to let your ex walk over you, if it was her, and someone was threatening the person she loved, she would have killed him.

You let go of the hay, rest your head on your knees, your hands bracing your head, letting the warmth of the day soak into your skin to feel comforted. ‘Go away, stop.’

But you know they won’t go away. Because those voices, no matter how different, all sound the same...

Because they’re all you.

#HOAL #I'm so impatient with myself but I also don't want to release something that isn't the best! I'm sorry for the wait!!!

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bananaofswifts · 3 years

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Taylor Swift appears to be waging war over the serial resale of her old master recordings on two fronts. She recently confirmed that she is already underway in the process of re-recording the six albums she made for the Big Machine label, in order to steer her fans (and sync licensing execs) toward the coming alternate versions she’ll control. But now that she’s followed the surprise release of “Folklore” with the very, very surprise release of “Evermore” less than five months later, the thought may occur: If she keeps up this pace, she may have more new albums out on the Republic label than she ever did on Big Machine in a quarter of the time. Flooding the zone to further crowd out the oldies is unlikely to be Swift’s real motivation for giving the world a full-blown “Folklore” sequel this instantaneously: As motivations for prolific activity go, relieving and sublimating quarantine pressure is probably even better than revenge. Anyway, this is not a gift horse to be looked in the mouth. “Evermore,” like its mid-pandemic predecessor, feels like something that’s been labored over — in the best possible way — for years, not something that was written and recorded beginning in August, with the bow said to be put on it only about a week ago. Albums don’t get graded on a curve for how hastily they came together, or shouldn’t be, but this one doesn’t need the handicap. It’d be a jewel even if it’d been in progress forevermore and a day.The closest analog for the relation the new album bears to its predecessor might be one that’d seem ancient to much of Swift’s audience: U2 following “Achtung Baby” with “Zooropa” while still touring behind the previous album. It’s hard to remember now that a whole year and a half separated those two related projects; In that very different era, it seemed like a ridiculously fast follow-up. But the real comparison lies in how U2, having been rewarded for making a pretty gutsy change of pace with “Achtung,” seemed to say: You’re okay with a little experimentation? Let’s see how you like it when we really boil things down to our least commercial impulses, then — while we’ve still got you in the mood.Swift isn’t going avant-garde with “Evermore.” If anything, she’s just stripping things down to even more of an acoustic core, so that the new album often sounds like the folk record that the title of the previous one promised — albeit with nearly subliminal layers of Mellotrons, flutes, French horns and cellos that are so well embedded beneath the profuse finger-picking, you probably won’t notice them till you scour the credits. But it’s taking the risk of “Folklore” one step further by not even offering such an obvious banger (irony intended) as “Cardigan.” Aaron Dessner of the National produced or co-produced about two-thirds of the last record, but he’s on 14 out of 15 tracks here (Jack Antonoff gets the remaining spot), and so the new album is even more all of a piece with his arpeggiated chamber-pop impulses, Warmth amid iciness is a recurring lyrical motif here, and kind of a musical one, too, as Swift’s still increasingly agile vocal acting breathes heat into arrangements that might otherwise seem pretty controlled. At one point Swift sings, “Hey, December, I’m feeling unmoored,” like a woman who might even know she’s going to put her album out a couple of weeks before Christmas. It’s a wintry record — suitable for double-cardigan wearing! — and if you’re among the 99% who have been feeling unmoored, too, then perhaps you are Ready For It. Swift said in announcing the album that she was moving further into fiction songwriting after finding out it was a good fit on much of “Folklore,” a probably inevitable move for someone who’s turning 31 in a few days and appears to have a fairly settled personal life. Which is not to say that there aren’t scores to settle, and a few intriguing tracks whose real-life associations will be speculated upon. But just as the “Betty”/”August” love triangle of mid-year established that modern pop’s most celebrated confessional writer can just make shit up, too, so, here, do we get the narrator of “Dorothea,” a honey in Tupelo who is telling a childhood friend who moved away and became famous that she’s always welcome back in her hometown. (Swift may be doing a bit of empathic wondering in a couple of tracks here how it feels to be at the other end of the telescope.) One time the album takes a turn away from rumination into a pure spirit of fun — while getting dark anyway — is “No Body, No Crime,” a spirited double-murder ballad that may have more than a little inspiration in “Goodbye, Earl.” Since Swift already used the Dixie Chicks for background vocals two albums ago, for this one she brings in two of the sisters from Haim, Danielle and Este, and even uses the latter’s name for one of the characters. Yes, the rock band Haim’s featured appearance is on the only really country-sounding song on the record… there’s one you didn’t see coming, in the 16 hours you had to wonder about it. Yet there are also a handful of songs that clearly represent a Swiftian state of mind. At least, it’s easy to suppose that the love songs that opens the album, “Willow,” is a cousin to the previous record’s “Invisible String” and “Peace,” even if it doesn’t offer quite as many clearly corroborating details about her current relationship as those did. On the sadder side, Swift is apparently determined to run through her entire family tree for heartrending material. On “Lover,” she sang for her stricken mother; on “Folklore,” for her grandfather in wartime. In that tradition the new album offers “Marjorie,” about the beloved grandmother she lost in 2003, when she was 13. (The lyric videos that are being offered online mostly offer static visual loops, but the one for “Marjorie” is an exception, reviving a wealth of stills and home-movie footage of Grandma, who was quite a looker in a miniskirt in her day.) Rue is not something Swift is afraid of here anymore than anywhere else, as she sings, “I should’ve asked you questions / I should’ve asked you how to be / Asked you to write it down for me / Should’ve kept every grocery store receipt / ‘Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me,” lines that will leave a dry eye only in houses that have never known death. The piece de resistance in its poignance is Swift actually resurrecting faint audio clips of Marjorie, who was an opera singer back in the day. It’s almost like ELO’s “Rockaria,” played for weeping instead of a laugh. Swift has not given up, thank God, on the medium that brought her to the dance — the breakup song — but most of them here have more to do with dimming memories and the search for forgiveness, however slowly and incompletely achieved, than feist. But doesn’t Swift know that we like her when she’s angry? She does, and so she delves deep into something like venom just once, but it’s a good one. The ire in “Closure,” a pulsating song about an unwelcome “we can still be friends, right?” letter from an ex, seems so fresh and close to the surface that it would be reasonable to speculate that it is not about a romantic relationship at all, but a professional one she has no intention of ever recalling in a sweet light. Or maybe she does harbor that a disdain for an actual former love with that machinelike a level of intensity. What “Evermore” is full of is narratives that, like the music that accompanies them, really come into focus on second or third listen, usually because of a detail or two that turns her sometimes impressionistic modes completely vivid. “Champagne Problems” is a superb example of her abilities as a storyteller who doesn’t always tell all: She’s playing the role of a woman who quickly ruins a relationship by balking at a marriage proposal the guy had assumed was an easy enough yes that he’d tipped off his nearby family. “Sometimes you just don’t know the answer ‘ Til someone’s on their knees and asks you / ‘She would’ve made such a lovely bride / What a shame she’s fucked in the head’ / They said / But you’ll find the real thing instead / She’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.” (Swift has doubled the F-bomb quotient this time around, among other expletives, for anyone who may be wondering whether there’s rough wordplay amid Dessner’s delicacy — that would an effing yes.) “‘Tis the Damn Season,” representing a gentler expletive, gives us a character who is willing to settle, or at least share a Christmas-time bed with an ex back in the hometown, till something better comes along. The pleasures here are shared, though not many more fellow artists have broken into her quarantine bubble this time around. Besides Haim’s cameo, Marcus Mumford offers a lovely harmony vocal on “Cowboy Like Me,” which might count as the other country song on the album, and even throws in something Swift never much favored in her Nashville days, a bit of lap steel. Its tale of male and female grifters meeting and maybe — maybe — falling in love is really more determinedly Western than C&W, per se, though. The National itself, as a group, finally gets featured billing on “Coney Island,” with Matt Berninger taking a duet vocal on a track that recalls the previous album’s celebrated Bon Iver collaboration “Exile,” with ex-lovers taking quiet turns deciding who was to blame. (Swift saves the rare laugh line for herself: “We were like the mall before the internet / It was the one place to be.) Don’t worry, legions of new Bon Iver fans: Dessner has not kicked Justin Vernon out of his inner circle just to make room for Berninger. The Bon Iver frontman whose appearance on “Folklore” came as a bit of a shock to some of his fan base actually makes several appearances on this album, and the one that gets him elevated to featured status again, as a duet, the closing “Evermore,” is different from “Exile” in two key ways. Vernon gets to sing in his high register… and he gets the girl. As it turned out, the year 2020 did not involve any such waiting for Swift fans; it’s an embarrassment of stunning albums-ending-in-“ore” that she’s mined out of a locked-down muse.

#taylor swift #evermore #review

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amphtaminedreams · 3 years

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Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart.

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out.

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway.

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

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venusoliver · 3 years

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The Taste of Sweet Silk on Your Lips; Chapter 11 BTS

NOTE: This post will discuss plot points from Chapter 11 my Ao3 fanfiction, The Taste of Sweet Silk on Your Lips. Please refrain from reading further if you'd like to avoid spoilers!

This chapter, if I'm not mistaken, is my longest chapter yet. Woah.

I've almost completely strayed from my original outline. Almost. For the past couple of chapters my outline didn't reasonate with the final result at all, but I think I'm starting to get back on track.

The BDSM chapters are always the most difficult. There's a lot of terminology that can come into play rather quickly, not to mention the struggle to keep things consistent and clear. (Where are Mikasa's hands? How do I describe that? How do I phrase this differently than the last three paragraphs I wrote? Okay, hold on, what's a synonym for—)

Long story short, it's a handful. But when I'm done writing the chapter, when I can finally delete "DRAFT" from the title of my chapter page, it's a feeling I don't feel to often.

I feel proud of myself. And that's an amazing thing :D

But along with BDSM chapters comes references!

Now, my original plan was to actually watch live BDSM performances online. I watched a very solid handful before I started writing this fic, and I learned quite a lot, but in the end..

I'm a procrastinator, okay?

My schoolwork was starting to pile up. I was failing multiple classes (I'm only failing one now, yay for me!), and what does my brain do when there's actual work to be done? Not that. Anything but that.

Now, writing my fic isn't work. I LOVE writing this fic. But typing out extensive cartography notes and typing out prolonged sexual tension can start to get grouped together, and before I knew it—

A week had passed since my last update. That's always when I start to get anxious.

So, instead of taking this slow and watching low-quality footage of shibari clubs in russia, it was just me— my brain— and a very aggressive google searching session.

In the end, I'm still very happy with how things went.

The issue arose initially when I just.. couldn't find the right references. I had the picture in my head of what was going on, but I still needed a picture to look at so that my descriptions wouldn't become to vague and absurd.

Let's start off easy, Mikasa's lingerie.

I had a lot of options when deciding what Mikasa should wear. Something risque, of course, but nothing too revealing. It was a tough decision, but I think this picture does my vision justice! Aside from the shoes. Mikasa is a little too powerful in heels like that.

The next order of business was getting references for the bondage rigging.

The spreader bar was easy. Legs spread, bar in the middle, you're good to go!

Next up was the harness. I had a couple of other options I was debating when deciding on what type of harness I wanted on Mikasa. I originally went with something more dainty, with thinner rope and smaller knots— but once I decided on suspension-esqe rigging near the end of the performance, it only made sense for the harness to be more secure.

As for the arms.. that was the most difficult part of this chapter. Finding a reference, writing it out— when I go back to make minor revisions on the fic (grammatical errors)— it's going to be very hard to stop myself from rewriting that portion of the chapter.

The sheer joy that raced through me when I found this image is unmatched. I had scoured the internet looking for a clean, clear reference for what I wanted. After rephrasing my google search multiple times (shibari arm rigging, arms behind head, arms behind head shibari, etc.)— and praying I wouldn't have to use a p 0rn screenshot as reference, I found this image.

This is precisely what I was going for with her arms. Mikasa is a very fit woman, and I don't doubt that she wouldn't have a problem getting her arms behind herself like this.

In my mind when I pictured Mikasa bent at the hip, legs spread wide, arms lifted upwards behind her— this is precisely the position I envisioned her arms in. I used that reference when describing the actual rigging for the arms as well.

But enough about all the k!nky stuff! This chapter was a lot more sentimental than originally planned.

I'm consistently at odds with myself when writing these chapters, trying to give them the smut I intended while also making their relationship believable.

I ship these two insanely hard, but their dynamic is a really tough one to pinpoint and make work.

They're both very cold and shut off from people in day to day life, so for their relationship to work— they need to be forced together, and they have to be in a situation where their stubbornness pulls them closer rather than pries them apart.

With all of that to keep in mind, bringing in some fluffy aspects is crucial. It makes their connection make more sense. After all, neither one of this girl's is doing random hookups. Not often, anyway.

The fluff ended up coming organically. Even if their performance this chapter was still just a performance and not an actual BDSM scene, aftercare still comes into play.

Hitch and Annie had a far different dynamic because they were friends. They were friends, and experienced in the BDSM scene. They're able to perform without getting emotionally invested— because they don't love each other romantically. There's not this same intimate connection.

As for Mikasa and Annie, it's completely different. Annie loves Mikasa to the point that she's risking quite a lot to keep the girl in her life. Mikasa is new to the scene, but she's enthralled by the idea of letting down her guard and letting someone else pull the reigns for once.

They compliment each other in an intimate, romantic, and s3xual way. The performance itself and the aftermath should reflect that.

So, it does! I found myself smiling quite a bit at the end of the chapter. I really do love these two.

The next chapter will include full fledged smut, thank goodness. I'm both nervous and excited to start writing the chapter. But, for now, I'm probably gonna get some rest.

Thank you all so much for your support. I wouldn't still be writing this fic if I didn't know that there were people out there who enjoyed my work. It makes me smile even when I'm struggling :) I hope to see you all again when I post the next chapter. Thanks so much!!

#annie leonhardt #annie x mikasa #ao3 update #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #mikannie #mikannie fanfiction #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x annie

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albertasunrise · 3 years

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Amateur Heist - Chapter 1

Summary: You know his name is Marcus Pike. You know he works for the FBI. You’ve seen him around the gallery the past week, or so. Thrown him longing looks when his back's turned but he's here for a reason, a tip that the gallery was going to be a robbed. What you don’t know is that you are about to get a lot more acquainted with him as his life will literally be in your hands.

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Hostage situation, Angst.

Relationship: Marcus x Reader

You know his name is Marcus Pike. You know he works for the FBI. You’ve seen him around the gallery the past week, or so. Thrown him longing looks when his back's turned but he's here for a reason, a tip that the gallery was going to be a robbed. What you don’t know is that you are about to get a lot more acquainted with him as his life will literally be in your hands.

The day started out like any other. You opened up the gallery as normal and busied yourself with cleaning and paperwork as you did every day. Your boss usually arrives around 9 with a coffee for you and he in hand, he never fails to bring you your latte with a single shot of Caramel syrup.

‘Good morning Sweet.’ He says with a smile as he hands you your to-go cup, pecking you on the cheek before heading to his office in the back.

Marcus doesn’t have a particular time that he arrives but he usually pops in around mid-morning to scour the CCTV footage and speak to you and your boss about anything suspicious that you may have seen. He’s always dressed down, never looks like an FBI agent and he explained that this was in case they were scoping the place. He didn't want to raise suspicion which was why he always enters from the rear of the gallery also as the alley made anyone spying on the place easier to spot.

‘I have a lunchtime reservation with Fiona today so I will be out until around 2.’ States your boss as he emerges from his office a little while later, iPad in hand ‘You think you’ll be able to hold the fort whilst I'm out?’

‘Oh, I think I’ll be able to handle it.’ You chuckle as you look around at the empty gallery.

‘Perfect!’ He exclaims before returning to tapping away at the tablet in his hand.

You busy yourself again after he leaves, busy typing up emails when the bell above to door dings, alerting you to someone entering.

‘I will be with you in just a moment.’ You say as you finish up a receipt for your latest sale.

‘You’ll deal with me now.’ A voice growls and you look up slowly to see a gun pointing straight at you.

You don’t know where the sudden confidence comes from but you manage to blindly dial Marcus’ number, knowing he was the last person you’d called on your work mobile to confirm something the previous day.

‘Step away from the counter with your hands above your head.’ He spits and you do as you’re told, your eyes fixed on his ‘Lock the door. You run, I shoot you.’

You nod, slowly making your way to the door and turning the key in the lock before turning back to face him. What now?

‘You going to swing by the gallery today boss?’ Asks Matt as Marcus walks into the communal kitchen.

‘I’m not sure yet.’ He replies, shrugging as he pours some coffee into this mug ‘It’s been over a week and there have been no hits on the gallery.’ He pauses to take a sip ‘Maybe we were given a bad tip.’

‘So you’re not even going to pop by just so you can see her?’ Matt asks suggestively as he wiggles his eyebrows at his boss.

‘Don’t Matt.’ He warns as he points at him.

‘Oh come on. I've seen the way you look at her.’ He states ‘Just ask her out. I’m sure she’d say yes.’

‘How would you know. My dealings with her have been nothing but professional.’

‘Because I’ve seen the way she looks at you when your back is turned.’ Matt finishes and Marcus feels a warm feeling wash over him.

Did you like him? He couldn’t deny that he had a rather large crush on you. He found you irresistible. You not only had a vast knowledge about art but you were also just as passionate as he was about it. His phone ringing in his pocket tugs him back to reality and he pulls it out to see your name flashing on the screen.

‘Who is it?’ Asks Matt quizzically.

‘It’s her.’

‘Maybe she’s calling to see where you are?’ He states, giving his boss a wink as Marcus answers.

‘Pike.’

He doesn’t hear anything initially and he wonders if you may have dialled him by mistake but just as he was about to pull his phone away from his ear he heard it.

‘Step away from the counter with your hands above your head’

Marcus’ face drops.

‘Boss, what is it?’ Matt asks upon noticing his bosses change in demeanour.

‘We need to get down to the gallery now.’ He states, hanging up the phone ‘It’s being robbed.’

In less than an hour, the gallery is surrounded, the whole street closed off as FBI and Police vehicles line the street. Marcus jumps out of his car and makes his way to the rest of his team that is eagerly awaiting his instruction and he glances inside to see you curled up against the wall as the assailant paces nervously.

‘We have both the front and rear entrance’s covered.’ States Alice as she nods at her boss in greeting ‘We don’t think he is aware that there is another way into the gallery. I think it’s likely that he’s new to this boss.’

‘Right,’ Marcus starts, looking down at the blueprint spread across the hood of Alice’s car ‘Matt and I are going to enter from the rear. If he isn't aware of it then we should be able to get in and subdue him easily. Alice, I want you and James to stay here and keep the local police instructed on what the plan is. If we aren’t able to get in then he may start making demands.’

‘You got it.’ She replies as she folds up the blueprint and makes her way over to a cluster of officers stood a little further down the street from them.

‘Right. Vest on. We’re going in.’ Orders Marcus and Matt nods.

As soon as they were suited up they were sprinting down the alleyway, Marcus pulling out the key the owner had given him and gingerly turning it in the lock.

‘Stay behind me.’ He says to Matt before opening the door and stepping inside, both of them watching their footing carefully as not to alert the robber to their presence.

Meanwhile, you have been made to move to the other side of the divide that sits proudly at the centre of the gallery and thats when you’d realised that this man wasn’t alone. There is two of them. You’d managed to keep yourself somewhat calm but you were starting to feel the adrenaline wearing off and your body had started to betray you. From the corner of your eye, you notice the storeroom door creaking open, your eyes growing wide when Marcus’s face comes into view and he raises his pointer finger up to his lips. You nod, just enough that he knows that you understand but not enough to rouse suspicion and then your gaze flits to the man across from you, you shut your eyes and pray for it to be over.

‘FBI, HANDS UP.’ Shouts Marcus as he jumps into the room, aiming his weapon at the man behind you, the only one he knows about.

‘MARCUS, WATCH OUT.’ You scream as your eyes shoot open and you see the second man aim his weapon at the agent.

It happens in a flash. Pike turns just quick enough to see his attacker before they pull the trigger, the agent hitting the ground with a loud thud. You look over at him, his face already painted in blood and he's blinking rapidly in what you assume is an attempt to try and clear his mind.

‘BACK UP.’ Shouts the man behind you as he steps closer to Matt ‘Back up or my partner here will shoot him between the eyes.' He spits as he waves his weapon at a dazed Marcus.

Matt did as he was bid, backing up with his hands raised in surrender. He glances at his boss, there's is blood and a lot of it. Marcus is laying there still blinking, desperately trying to make sense of what has just happened but all he could hear is a ringing in his ears as his vision starts to grey around the edges.

‘You tell your colleagues that we’ll have some demands.’ Growls, who you had decided must be in charge ‘If they aren’t met. These two die.’ He states and you lock eyes with Matt in a silent plea to save you ‘Now run along and tell them that we’ll be in touch!’

Matt turns and leaves, sprinting through the back door with Marcus’ attacker hot on his heels.

‘Make sure no one can get through that door!' He yells before turning his attention back to you, and then to the bleeding agent on the floor ‘You best take a look at that.’ He orders as he watches Marcus flop on the floor ‘He don’t look so good.’

You pull off your blazer and scoot over to him, pressing it firmly against his gushing head wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Now you were no doctor but you’d watched House. You know head wounds bleed a lot but do they normally bleed this much? You peel your blazer back a moment to get a better look at the damage and you gasp at what you see. This grabs Marcus’ attention.

‘That bad eh?’ He asks, his brown eyes full of fear.

‘No.’ You reply, shaking your head ‘Just grazed you. You’ll be okay.’ You lie, not able to bring yourself to tell him the truth. The bullet had grazed him alright but from the looks of it, it had fractured his skull in the process.

His eyes were starting to droop. You know that people with head injuries need to stay awake and so you shake his shoulder and you speak to him ‘You need to stay awake agent Pike.’ You urge, feeling tears start to sting your eyes ‘Just keep those pretty brown eyes on me.’

‘You think my eyes are pretty?’ He questions, smirking at you and you let out a breathy chuckle.

‘Yes.’ You reply with a nod ‘I think they’re very pretty Agent Pike.’

'Marcus.'

'Hmm?'

'Marcus.' He repeats 'Call me Marcus.'

‘Matt, what the hell is going on?’ Yells James upon seeing the younger agent sprinting across the street ‘Where the hell is Marcus? We heard gunshots!’

‘He’s been shot.’ Matt states as he leans heavily on the car whilst he attempts to catch his breath ‘There's two of them.’ One’s hiding just on the other side of that divide. He caught Pike by surprise, got him in the head.’

‘FUCK!.’ Yells James ‘He alive?’

‘He was when I left.’ Matt replies ‘They’re going to be calling with demands soon so we need to make sure someone's ready to take that call. He was bleeding badly so I’m not sure how long he’s going to hold out.’

‘Right grab Alice.’ James orders, motioning to the female agent ‘She’ll be our best bet at getting them out alive.’

‘How did you get into art.’ He asks, his eyes growing heavier by the minute.

‘Well, it's the only thing I'm any good at.’ You chuckle before noticing how cold his skins gone Shit he’s going into shock ‘I went to school in England where I studied for 6 years. Learned that it’s impossible to make any money selling work no one wants. Then I met Simon and he offered me a job here. What about you?’

‘Pretty much the same.’ He replies, shivering as he looks sideways at the painting on the wall beside you ‘Apart from the studying on England part. Discovered that I was also quite the detective and ended up working for the FBI Art Crimes Division. I hadn’t even known there was one till I joined.’

‘I’ll confess I didn’t either. It almost seems like something out of a movie.’ You say and he smiles warmly at you before his eyes slip closed ‘Hey Marcus no. Keep your eyes open for me.’

You can see he’s trying but he’s failing miserably and so you rack your brain for something, anything you can do to get his attention.

Then it hits you.

You lean down and press your soft lips against his, smiling when he gasps in surprise before kissing you back and letting out a small hum of approval.

‘Normally I like to be wined and dined first.’ He jokes as you pull away, his brown eyes sparkling.

‘Well how about we make a deal? You keep your eyes open for me and stay awake and as a reward, I will take you out to dinner.’ You say and he grins at you.

‘Are you asking me on a date?’

‘Maybe I am.’ You reply, returning his toothy smile with your own.

‘I’m supposed to do that.’ He mumbles, eyes starting to flutter again.

‘Well, you’ve had over a week!’ You exclaim and he chuckles weakly ‘I guess I’ve had to take matters into my own hands.’

He looks up at you through hooded lids, his smile, though weak, still spreading to his eyes.

‘Okay. I will on one con-condition.’ He stutters and you tilt your head in curiosity ‘I pay.’

‘Hmmm, I think I can accept those terms.’ You reply, smiling sweetly at him as one hand presses down your blood-soaked blazer to his head as the other cups his cheek, thumb rubbing circles on the soft skin there.

‘Then it’s a date.’ He chuckles before scrunching his eyes as the pain starts to filter through.

‘What are they demanding?’ Asks Matt, watching as Alice listens to the perps over the phone.

‘They want to walk out of there.’ She states ‘They haven’t taken anything and they won’t if we let them go without charge. They want a car and the promise that when they leave, they won’t be followed.’

‘Are they insane?’ Matt whisper shouts ‘One of them shot a fucking federal agent in the head!’

‘Well, we might have to concede to their demands.’ She states ‘Marcus isn’t doing well according to him.'

‘Headquarters aren’t going to just let them walk out.’ States James and Alice throws the phone down as she lets out an exasperated sigh ‘Well it's that or Pike bleeds to death.’ She growls ‘Which will it be?’

You notice that Marcus’ eyes are starting to slip shut again. His skin is now a scary shade of white and his breathing has become erratic. You know the warning signs for shock and he is definitely ticking those boxes. You also know he didn’t have long before his organs would start to shut down. It would most likely kill him before the blood loss.

‘Where shall we go on our date then?’ You ask, desperate to keep him with you ‘Now I don’t know about you but I live for Pancakes.’

‘I l-love p…pan-cakes.’ Your heart twists at how hard it is for him to speak now.

‘Well, I know this super cute little diner. Does the best pancakes.’ You state as you pull him a little closer to you ‘They do the Canadian special. Thick, fluffy pancakes topped in crispy chicken and maple-cured bacon. Of course, it's then drowned in maple syrup.’

‘S-sounds good.’ He says, his hand grabbing your forearm and giving it a squeeze ‘I think I'd like t-to try th-that.’

‘Well, then that settles it. We’ll go there for dinner and order two Canadian Specials.’ You declare and he gives you a dopey smile.

‘Then what will we do?’ He asks, his eyes a little brighter than before.

‘Then we can go for a walk. There’s a lovely park a little way down from there. They light up the trees at night, it's magical.’ You state and he smiles as he listens to you speak ‘Then you can walk me back to my apartment, I don't live far from there, and you can kiss me goodnight on my doorstep.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘Just a kiss mind.’ You state as you feign a serious expression ‘I don’t do any funny business on the first date.’

‘Noted.’ He replies, his laugh followed by dry coughing that makes him groan in pain.

When the pain settles a little he looks up at you again. That fear you’d first seen has returned and you feel your stomach twisting in knots.

‘I’m so cold.’ He states and you feel your blood turn to ice.

‘You just need to hold on a little longer.’ You plead, shaking him gently as his eyes slip shut for a moment ‘Come on Marcus, let me see those eyes again.’

He graces you with his gaze. Brow knitted together as tears start to leak from the corner of his eyes ‘I’m scared.’ He sobs and you swear your heart shatters.

‘There’s no reason to be scared, Marcus.’ You say softly as you rock him gently in your arms ‘You’re going to be fine.’ You state as you look up and your captors who are busy growling down the phone ‘Everything’s going to be okay. We're going to get out of here. Okay? Marcus?’

Nothing.

‘Marcus?’ You glance down and sob.

He’s lost the battle to keep his eyes open.

Chapter 2

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike Fanfiction #Mentalist fanfiction #pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal characters

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

Stay With Me Pt. 2 Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 1.7k

LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

My favorite AU is backkkk! I’m so happy you guys liked it as much as I did and special shoutout to the people who requested pt 2!

checkout part one HERE.

checkout part three HERE.

“See you soon Timmy”

As he watched you tear away from the manor he let out a scream. Tim was never one for noise but the hurt and passion built up in him needed a release. The screech was guttural, you could practically hear his heart breaking, but you couldn’t turn back. As much as your heart ached to run into his arms you were an Al-Ghul, bred for evil and destruction not to run with the good guys. As you ran through the unlocked gates of the Wayne Manor you chided yourself for crying over Tim, feeling tears slip out against your will. But you were free now, and you had a couple gigs this month, the love bird would have to find you not the other way around.

“I’m gonna find her” Tim had easily maneuvered out of the cuffs and pulled the net off of Bruce, currently unlocking the manor as Damian screeched from inside his room, completely locked in. “Tim how did she escape? You were with her almost all the time?” Bruce had taken to the BatComputer, noticing all the programs you had put into place during your three month stay. It didn’t take a genius to realize he’d been played.

Hearing a click unlock his door Damian came bounding out of his room, full robin attire, sword raised, ready for a fight. “Where is y/n” he hissed. Eventually he realized you were gone, his own sister locked him up before escaping with no words of goodbye. Damian tried to feign strength deciding you were “a betrayer and not his sister” to anyone who asked if he were okay. Tim on the other hand took it upon himself to find you.

While he stayed up late and enjoyed coffee like any other genius, after you he became obsessive. Together Tim and Damian stayed up night after night determined to find you, Damian trying to list off any information he’d gathered in your talks together while Tim scoured the web for any sign. He knew you had a gig, you sounded reluctant to be leaving, so he knew he had to keep a careful eye out.

Dick, Bruce, and even Jason were worried about their youngest brothers. Bruce could convince/force Damian to rest by pulling the father card or the you’re too young card but neither worked for Tim. This was especially hard on Dick, who took Tim as his responsibility while Bruce was trying to wrangle Dami. After restless nights Dick would drag Tim to bed and the kid would sleep for 20 hours straight before returning to his post, determined not to lose you. “Dick she said she’ll see me soon. Soon! I have to be ready!” Tim would recount every word you’d said, pouring over the tapes of the two of you together, reliving every moment as he realized you did care about him. You’d been proud of your escape, not disabling the cameras so Tim could follow you out of the manor during your escape. What you missed was that it meant he found the tape from the entrance, he watched on replay as you wiped tears from your eyes, running out of shot.

Eventually he shared this footage with Dick. Needing to share this information with the only person in the family who had a grasp on their emotions. “Tim you know what this means, she feels the same. Look, (he zoomed in on your face) Tim you know how to read body language, this is breaking y/n as much as it is you” Tim agreed, but he didn’t know if this hurt more or less, but it gave him the drive he needed to find you.

“This is boring” You complained as you sat with one of Savage’s lackeys while your programs obliterated some small countries homeland defense system. “Hacking the BatCave was easier than this” you noted, loving the shock that some of the men couldn’t hide at your most recent accomplishment. About to fall asleep you heard the alarm you’d been waiting to hear for months, he’d finally found you - took him long enough.

“DAMIAN I GOT HER” Tim shouted from the main computer as Damian raced into the cave. “She’s in fucking Europe, how the hell do we get there? Look she’s wrecking their homeland security - hey! Did you see that hop from defense to offense? I taught her that!” Tim had set a bar at the top of the computer tracking your progress. 10 minutes left before you were in complete control, Tim was sure it was all your programs, there was no way you were lifting a finger. “Drake I can’t get there in 10 can you slow her down?” Tim shook his head, these weren’t American defense systems which meant he couldn’t drive his way in from his source on the inside like normal. “I’m gonna send her a message - see if she’s at her computer”

You smirked as you saw a new rabbit hole pop up, your programs highlighted it because it wasn’t yours. Pulling out another computer Savage had so graciously gifted you, you began down the path, hoping for Tim to lead you to a server where you could chat while your systems did the rest of your work.

“She’s here! Dami what should I say?” Tim squealed as Damian paced back and forth behind his chair. “I don’t know Drake I had assumed when you found her it meant I could go to her, not be stuck here behind the computer TT” Damian was frustrated, but Tim was elated.

(LB) Hey, long time no see

(RH) Hello Timothy fancy seeing you here

(LB) You’re one to talk Ms. RHood, what’s the LB?

(RH) Well love bird, I’m just happy you found me

(LB) We both know you made it easy, come back to me y/n, stay this time

(RH) I can’t Tim, Dami knows as well as I do we were trained for evil not good. You’ve brainwashed him better than I thought if he actually thinks Ah-Ghul’s can be good.

“What the hell does that mean?” Damian shouted as he read the text. “It’s in my blood - father’s blood! We are half and half. Tell her that!”

(LB) He says good is 50% you. Isn’t it?

(RH) Never met my father. I’m 50% hard work and the rest is Al-Ghul. Sad to think Dami went soft

You felt bad, but you knew only an angry Damian could find you so you could see him again. You didn’t need to anger Tim more than already, you just needed to remind him why you were worth searching for.

(RH) So you found me love bird. Any final questions before you let me go?

(LB) I’m not letting you go y/n, I’ll find you, you said so yourself “see you soon remember? I’m gonna make you stay”

(RH) I’m glad you’ll keep your promise. I miss you Timmy. Tell me - do you still remember our kiss?

“YOUR WHAT” Damian lunged for Tim who pushed him off, pointing to the progress bar which was almost complete. “Only a couple more messages Dames we have to get some information.

(LB) Good to know you’re missing me too y/n, we both know you’re almost gone so how long until I see you again?

(RH) I said see you soon didn’t I? Plus how could I leave my dear brother without a goodbye hug? Now as I’m sure you’re aware I must go - evil awaits!

(LB) No! Y/n wait stay with me, just tell me where you will be and I’ll come get you! Stay! Choose good y/n. Choose me

(RH) Oh lovebird we both know that’s not quite my speed. But I’d choose you anyday ; ) So I guess the only promise I can make you is that I’ll see you soon! xoxo

~ log closed ~

Watching from the cameras as Savage’s assassins infiltrated and grabbed whatever stupid object would end the world this time you thought about Tim, hoping you’d given him enough passion to continue. You’d make it easier on him next time, seeing as Poison Ivy needed you back in Gotham this meant “see you soon” was a lot closer than Tim thought. You thought back to Tim begging you to stay on the chat, again a rogue tear slipped but not before you could destroy it, it was useless to cry over Timothy Drake Wayne - he should be crying over you. Not the other way around. Shaking off rogue emotions you packed up, collecting your pay from Savage and moving on to your next project.

“Drake we lost her, y/n is gone again” Damian slammed his fist against the wall, but he realized Tim’s entire body was shaking. Upon closer examination Tim was shaking with laughter. “Dami, that was perfect! Y/n is totally in love with me! She was so focused on me begging her to stay she didn’t even realize I used my own tech whiz skills to bug her computer! Next time she opens it up we’ve got her!” Tim jumped up from the chair, punching excited fists in the air.

“Dear y/n has no idea what’s coming for her” Damian nodded in approval as Tim ran to his room to pack, knowing you would be opening that computer soon. Again he couldn’t hold back a shout, this time of joy as he knew what was coming:

“See you soon y/n!”

~~~

part three is up!

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #damian wayne #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne x sister!reader #tim drake angst

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

a/n: drabble dump time aka random stuff i just felt like writing! ft. spy!au, iwaizumi x fem!reader. all characters are aged up.

warnings: description of an explosion, presumed reader death, unedited. mainly angst

It’s not often that Iwaizumi wakes up like this, drenched in sweat, chest heaving, and lungs screaming desperately for oxygen. Anyone can agree that it’s never fun to wake up to a damp pillowcase and sheets that stick to skin, yet here he was, experiencing just that. What pisses him off more than anything is the fact that he knows the exact reason why he’s been acting this way. He knows the reason and yet, he’s unable to do anything about it.

When he shuts his eyes again, the vivid nightmare plays on his eyelids like the screen of a movie theatre. His vision fights to discern details through the smoke and dust, his ears are ringing from the blast, his feet stumble over broken concrete and cobblestone, his hands tremble in their hold on his spare pistol; he’s searching, pleading to an unknown force, that you’re around here somewhere.

He brings on hand up to use the collar of his shirt as a temporary dust filter. His choice of weaponry has never felt so heavy before, but he was trained to fight against the strain and the odds. You always stand back up. When you have no choice but to run, run. This was one of those moments where he’d be advised to run.

“Damn it, where the fuck are you?” Iwaizumi curses to himself, trudging through the half-collapsed building to find any sign of you. You had been too many meters away from him and out of his sight when the blast happened. There was no way for him to determine just exactly where it had come from, especially when the licks of flames behind were only growing higher and higher towards the skies. He was on a countdown to find you and get you safely to the rendezvous point, something he never thought he’d have to worry about.

He decides to take his chances and yells out your name, his voice cracking and breaking as the dust scratches at his throat like nails on a chalkboard. Gritting through the pain, he calls out again, looking in every possible direction. The earpiece in his right ear comes alive, static crackling before a familiar voice comes through.

“—jime, can you hear me? Hajime?”

“Fuck, yeah, I’m here, Kenma,” he bites, eyes still flitting everywhere.

“Are you okay? Where’s (y/n)?”

“Really fucking beat up, and trying to find her right now. I can’t see shit though.”

“Tooru’s coming around to the rendezvous point in three minutes and you need to be there. Local police and firemen are already on their way, we have to get you out.”

“Can you locate her?”

“Signal’s lost. She was last seen on the north side of the building.”

“Well fuck,” Iwaizumi groans as he recalls the layout of the building in his mind. “That side’s entirely in flames, do you think…”

“She wouldn’t go down that easy. Two and a half minutes.”

“She has to be here somewhere,” Iwaizumi argues, tone becoming frantic. There’s nothing he can do but turn back towards the fire, desperate for any sort of clue. “(Y/n)! Are you there?”

He stumbles on the path once traveled, scouring the floor and in the rubble. Then his eyes catch a flash of rose gold, buried underneath fragments of brick and stone. His fingers and knees protest when he kneels down to push all of it aside, reaching to pick up the dust-covered chain. His heart sinks past his feet and into the earth beneath him when he gets a good look at the design.

In his hands is the very necklace he had gifted you months ago, one that you never took off, one that he had eyed and seen in many nights of passion, one that he had personally clasped underneath your hair. A thin rose gold chain holding a circular pendant of the same material, no larger than the size of your fingernail, with a small diamond suspended in the middle.

It can’t be.

“Hajime, ninety seconds. You need to get out of there.”

“But—”

“We’ll find her. You have to go.”

Iwaizumi takes one more look at the fires just a foot in front of him before standing back up and heading for the nearest exit. When he stumbles out, a sleek black vehicle pulls up and he wrenches open the passenger door. Not a second longer after his bottom hits the seat, Oikawa steps on the gas, the force aiding Iwaizumi in shutting the door. With deft skills and hands, his longtime friend secures an inconspicuous escape, merging onto the highway in the direction of their headquarter facilities.

Both ignore the incessant beeping from the car, the vehicle protesting the fact that Iwaizumi isn’t wearing his seatbelt. Oikawa only needs to take one look at the chain hanging from Iwaizumi’s fist to understand the situation, quickly letting Kenma know that the retrieval was a success and they were on their way back. His eyes take a glance in the rearview mirror to ensure no one is following them before addressing the elephant in the room.

“She probably made it out and went into hiding,” Tooru hypothesizes. “Maybe she left the necklace as a sign.”

“She better fucking have or she’ll never hear the end of it from me.”

“Must you be so harsh on your girlfriend, Iwa-chan?” He attempts to tease, but it falls flat. Iwaizumi lets out a staggered sigh and leans back against the seat, staring out the tinted window. His heart beats heavily against his ribcage, hoping that in the next few hours, you’ll securely contact them and let them know you’re safe and sound.

But night comes around and there’s no word from you. Iwaizumi can’t sleep, not when the other side of his bed is empty and cold. The morning sun peeks above the horizon as Iwaizumi downs his second cup of coffee, his phone out on the dining table, sitting silent and motionless. Even when Sugawara hands him a bowl of rice, miso soup and natto on the side, Iwaizumi only eats a few grains at a time. He skips his workout routine for the day, instead taking a seat silently by Kenma and scourges through the footage of the previous day’s events.

The hours turn into days, and the days turn into weeks. The agency begins to lose hope and when the two-month mark hits, Iwaizumi watches in despair as your photo in the database gets slapped with an ‘M.I.A.” stamp on it. Oikawa tries to convey his comfort and own pain through the hand placed on his friend’s shoulder. For the rest of the day, everyone who passes by Iwaizumi gives him their best apologetic look. He can only nod and train his gaze to the floor to avoid the pity. Losing a partner is never easy, and even more so when you’re romantically attached to them.

Yet inside his gut, he doesn’t believe it. Kenma had shown him the crime scene report as well as the autopsy results – all bodies found were accounted for and none of the samples matched to any characteristics describing you. There were no Jane Does, nothing that indicated you were there besides the necklace. Whether you had hacked into the database yourself before Kenma got to it or you had just simply disappeared into the flames, you were simply…gone. It just didn’t make sense and Iwaizumi needed to get down to the bottom of all of this. You were alive – he could feel it.

The head of the agency gives him fewer missions and often pairs him with Oikawa, the best person to keep him on his toes. Iwaizumi shuts off his emotions during these times, completely zoned in on the objectives and goals, senses on high alert. He trains and trains until his abs hurt and his arms are jelly, causing Daichi to forcibly lock him out of the gym and demand that he takes a day off. This happens more times than Iwaizumi can count on his fingers and toes, so he spends his free time searching for clues. Sometimes, even Kiyoko and Yachi come by to help.

He’ll find you. He has to.

Four months after the incident, Iwaizumi takes a train into a small town in Germany. Thankfully, there are very few people in his cart, and he looks like the odd visiting businessman. He’s got a messenger bag leaning against his body with a worn journal in his lap, one that he had found under the floorboards of your apartment. This was the third place your journal had strung him along to, and he was really hoping you would be here.

“You have two months,” the head told him. “If you don’t find her…”

You’ll need to give up.

The unspoken words had left a bad taste in Iwaizumi’s mouth. He was a month in and beginning to lose his sanity. Reading your journal made him realize how there was so much he hadn’t learned about you, yet you knew so much about him. Had he given over his heart too easily? Were you toying with him? Did you even want to be found?

The train comes to a stop, ripping him away from his thoughts. He steps off and looks around before spotting the street he wanted. Down that road would lead him to the main plaza of the town, the one that had been vaguely mentioned in your writings. Iwaizumi begins setting himself up for disappointment so the pain would be more bearable if he doesn’t find you here in the next few days.

It’s about a 15 minute walk – cream-colored houses in an old European style tower over him as he ambles down the curvy street. He passes by bikers and crepe stands, sometimes the occasional antique store. The ambient noise of nature begins to melt into sounds of spoken word, Iwaizumi’s first sign that he’s nearing the plaza. Eventually, the street opens up into a large square. He’s greeted by restaurants and gelato shops, many people enjoying the fresh air in the outdoor seating. Children run around playing with balloons and each other, no care in the world except for their current enjoyment. Iwaizumi looks around and freezes.

There you are, sitting at a shaded table by a café, sipping on what he presumes to be a latte. A book is spread open on the metal surface and you haven’t noticed him yet. He drinks in all your features, noticing your hair color has changed and your face thinner than before. But despite these concerning changes, you still look as beautiful as ever to him.

He can’t believe it. He finally found you.

As though you felt his eyes, you look up from your book in his direction. They bore right into yours and you process all the emotions running through him. There’s confusion, pain, determination, exhaustion, but most of all, there’s love. Your heart aches at the sight of him – with no doubt in the world, there was nothing, no one you missed more than Iwaizumi Hajime, the love of your life. But it’s too early for him to find you. There was something that you needed to do, and you had to do it alone. For him.

Iwaizumi watches you warily stand from your chair. Your body is tense and ready to act, and he recognizes that stance all too well. No, don’t – !

You run.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t chase after you.

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that-winged-rat · 4 years

Text

Platonic Soulmates

*not my gif*

Summary: After a demon hunt gone wrong, you are victim to a sick game which might just cost you your life.

Pairing: Charlie Bradbury x reader!platonic

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Charlie Bradbury, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Angst, language, mentions/descriptions of torture, mentions/descriptions of blood, thought of death.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Holy shit I literally wrote this whole fucking thing in one sitting. I legit just sat down and did not get distracted once, which is like a once in a blue moon thing so I hope it was worth it haha. Also I've been reading a bunch of whump tropes recently and this is the result. Anyhoo, feedback is always welcomed and encouraged. Enjoy :)

Your eyes shot open when the rattling of chains pulled you from your unconscious state. It took a good few minutes for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, and even when they did, you still couldn’t see much of your surroundings. But you didn’t need to see to know that you were on your knees and your hands were tied to the walls at either side of you. You tried to pull your hands close to your body but winced when something sharp dug into your wrist, blood dripped down your arm and splashed on the concrete ground.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to wake up,” a voice called out from a corner in the room. You squinted your eyes, trying to see who it was, and could just about make out a figure, hunched over something on the floor. How you didn’t notice him before now, was beyond you. It wasn’t like he was trying to be quiet with whatever he was doing.

“Who are you?” You asked with a hoarse voice. He stopped what he was doing then, and turned to face you. He walked over to you and knelt down so he was eye-level with you.

“I’m the guy who’s gonna haunt your dreams, doll,” he said lowly.

“Doll? What is this, the 40′s?” You scoffed. He ignored your comment, got up and walked away. He walked to the other side of the room and flipped on the lights. Your eyes instinctively closed at the sudden brightness. When they opened, they immediately fell on what the man was standing over earlier.

“Charlie?” You asked, hoping that she would wake up. She was sitting up against the wall, her hands tied above her head with chain, which must have been what woke you up. She was sporting a couple of injuries on her face; a nasty looking bruise by her hairline, and a split lip. No doubt why she was out cold.

“Oh, she won’t be waking up anytime soon,” he said and walked back over to Charlie, tilting his head as he looked down upon her sleeping form as if he were admiring her.

“What did you do to her?” You demanded, your voice laced with venom and disgust. You pulled against your restraints again and looked over when it cut into you for the second time. You furrowed your brows when you saw you weren’t being held by chains like Charlie, but barbed wire, hence the pain.

He spun around with what you would call urgency. “Oh, no, no, no, she’ll–she’ll be fine. I just gave her an extra little konk on the head; she might be out a little longer than you,” he explained.

“What are you?” You asked as he turned back to Charlie. “Demon? Shifter? Demigod?”

He chuckled a bit. “No, I’m all human, baby.” You groaned at the nickname. “But... there is a demon who has a lot of beef with you.” He pulled out a knife from the back of his jeans and pointed it at you as he started pacing in front of you.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, great,” you muttered. “And let me guess, he said he'd give you anything you could ever wish for?”

“Bingo.” He walked back over to you and crouched down again, this time slightly to the side of you. His arms were resting on his knees and his head turned to look at Charlie. “She looks so... delicate when she’s asleep,” he whispered with a chuckle. Although he wasn’t facing you, you could tell he was smirking as his eyes gazed over your best friend.

You leaned towards him, ignoring the metal spikes digging into your skin. “Fuck you,” you spat.

“Shhh.” The man put a finger up to his lips. “You wouldn’t want to wake her up, now would you? Not when she’s so peaceful.” A grin broke out on his face. A grin that filled your stomach with dread. You had seen it enough times to know that nothing good ever followed.

He took in a sharp intake of breath and you could practically see the lightbulb above his head. You warily watched his hands as he played with his knife, flipping it over in his palm. “I have a little game for us to play,” he whispered and brought the knife up to your cheek, caressing it with the cold metal without doing any damage. You pulled your head back, but he just followed.

“You wake her up–” he jerked his head back towards Charlie who was still unconscious– “and she’s dead.” You clenched your jaw and clamped your eyes shut when he put pressure on the knife and it sliced through your cheek with ease. “Actually...let me change that. You speak words, she gets a slice. You scream, and cupcake over there gets something more permanent.”

You closed your eyes and accepted your fate. Sure you had been kidnapped and tortured before, but you were allowed to express your pain through screams. Now, you weren’t only not allowed to scream, but Charlie’s life was on the line here. You slip up and that’s it for her.

You sighed, knowing that only one of you was going to make it out alive. And you were going to do everything in your power to make sure that person was Charlie. She has so much more to live for; friends, passions, hobbies. All you had was Charlie.

The torture continued for days; punching, slicing, kicking, slapping, hell, sometimes even whipping. You were actually proud that you hadn’t screamed yet; not that you didn’t want to. The insides of your lips had been destroyed by how hard you had been biting down on them in successful attempts to silence yourself.

Throughout your stay, Charlie had stirred awake a couple of times. But each time, the man would come through and knock her out again before she could reach full consciousness. You figured he probably had a camera somewhere in the room, where the sick fucker could watch your every move.

You were in pain 24/7. You could feel yourself slipping from the land of the living. If you weren’t going to die from the injuries, it would be blood loss; there was a steady flow of blood dripping from your wrists because of your captors choice of restraint, and of course, the other wounds that covered your body.

You were going to die here.

---

Dean stepped out of the Impala and stared up at the building that towered before him. A few seconds later, Sam joined his brother, stopping next to Dean with a duffel bag, slung over his shoulder. They went over the plan they had both agreed on and marched inside, guns at the ready.

They scoured the building, looking for their nerdy friend, eventually coming across a room with a wall of monitors, showing surveillance footage from all over the old factory. If the whole building was rigged up, the son of a bitch that did this, was probably long gone. They observed each screen before finding what they were looking for.

After a few minutes of looking, the brothers found Charlie, tied up in a corner, her face littered with bruises. Sam was the first one to run to her, then Dean a few seconds later, neither noticing you, strung up in the middle of the room.

“Charlie?” Sam called out, shaking her shoulders gently. Dean pulled out his lock-picking kit and worked on the chains. “C’mon, you gotta wake up. Charlie.” He shook her again, this time getting a response. She groaned and rolled her head to the side, gradually coming to her senses before opening her eyes. Dean muttered a celebratory ‘yes’ when he managed to get her hands free.

She groaned again, rubbing her wrists before her hands went to her forehead to feel her wounds. A few tears made their way down her face.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re alright,” Dean assured her, helping her to her feet. She froze when she looked past the brothers, her eyes catching your mutilated form. Upon noticing her distress, Dean turned around, having the same reaction as Charlie. “Holy crap.”

He passed Charlie over to Sam before running to you. His eyes and hands hovered over you, not sure where to start or what to do. Charlie convinced Sam that she was okay and begged him to go check on you.

“Sam, help me get her down,” Dean urged. The two brothers took out a knife and cut the barbed wire, causing you to instantly fall to the ground and cry out in pain.

“Dean... we need to get her to a hospital. Like now.” Sam looked over your wounds, putting pressure on the major ones to stop the bleeding. Charlie pulled herself up off the ground, using the wall for assistance. She stumbled over to you, gasping when she saw the state you were in.

Sam and Dean were careful as they tried to lift you up off of the ground; both of them acting as crutches under your arms. They got you a couple of inches up before you cried out in pain.

“Stop,” you choked out. They delicately placed you back down on the ground. Charlie ran to your side and fell to her knees, grabbing your face in her hands. You winced at the contact but she didn’t pull back.

“Hey, it’s just me,” she said, a reassuring smile on her face, keeping up a strong façade for you. “Listen, I know this is going to hurt like a bitch but we need to get you help–we need to get you to a hospital.”

Charlie was safe. That’s all that mattered to you. You wouldn’t mind dying right there, because you knew that she would be safe. But if you did die, she wouldn’t be okay. Safe, sure. But not okay.

You nodded and scrunched up your face, bracing yourself for the coming pain. And it did come. The second Sam scooped you up, it washed over your entire being. You gritted your teeth and groaned in pain for the first time in nearly a week.

There was a shooting pain constantly travelling up both of your knees, presumably from the position you were held in, throbbing even more whenever Sam took a long stride. Not to mention the searing pain surrounding each and every one of your injuries.

Dean helped his brother lower you into the backseat when they reached the black muscle car. Charlie climbed into the back next to you, and the brothers into their designated seats in the front.

The half-an-hour drive to the hospital consisted of you slipping in and out of consciousness and Charlie reassuring you that everything was going to be okay and begging you to keep your eyes open. It got kind of annoying after the first five minutes, but she was just being there for you, she was being the good friend she’s always been.

You passed out again, just before Dean pulled into the hospital.

---

“Charlie, what exactly happened?” Sam asked when they were sat in the waiting room an hour later. Once they had brought you in, you had been taken into surgery to fix you as best as they could.

“I don’t–I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “She called for my help on a demon hunt. We, uh, we tracked it down to the warehouse you found us in and then... lights out.”

“When did this happen?”

“Uh, we went to the warehouse on the 9th, so, six days ago,” Charlie said. Just then, a doctor walked down the hallway, stopping before the three of them.

They confirmed that they were the people who were with you and listened to the doctor as she went over your injuries; broken ribs, dislocated knees, lacerations, internal bleeding, blood loss, a slight concussion, and a bunch of other shit.

“When can we see her?” Charlie asked.

“She’s just getting settled into a room upstairs so sometime within the next half hour,” the doctor said with a polite smile. “I’ll let you know when you can see her.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you.” The doctor smiled again and left. Sam, Dean and Charlie sat back in their seats.

“This reminds me of my parents,” Charlie started, prompting Sam and Dean to look up at her. “You know, the waiting, the awkward doctor smile, the fancy words. Except this time, I actually know what some of the words mean.”

Dean threw an arm over Charlie’s shoulder and gently coaxed her into a hug. “She’ll be okay, Charlie. I’ve never met her before, but from what I’ve heard from her best friend, she’s strong and stubborn. She’s gonna pull through.”

She looked up at him and smiled before leaning back into his hold.

---

“Y/N/N, what actually happened?” Charlie asked a while after you woke up, deciding to give you time before you relived whatever you went through. “I mean, I get knocked out and wake up six days later and you’re half dead.”

You cleared your throat. “Um, yeah, so you probably remember going into the warehouse, right?” You looked up and Charlie nodded. “He, uh, got me too. I woke up in that room; on my knees, and my hands were tied to the walls with barbed wire. He said...” you trailed off, wondering if you should tell Charlie what actually happened. You knew that she would blame herself, and you didn’t want that.

“He said what?” Charlie pushed.

“He said... that there was a demon that wanted to see me suffer,” you lied. “He was just a man. A man who was too greedy for his own good.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to look at you. “Friends shouldn’t lie to each other.” You opened your mouth to speak but Charlie beat you to it. “You have a tell.” She shrugged.

You dropped your head in defeat. “He said that if I spoke, he’d cut you and if I screamed...”

“...He’d kill me,” Charlie completed when you, yet again trailed off. You nodded your head slowly as you numbly stared at the bottom of your bed. Your gaze was brought up to hers as she grabbed your hand. “You are frickin’ amazing, you know that?”

“What?”

“I mean it. Most people wouldn’t go through all of that pain just so their friend would be okay. And for six days!”

“Because we’re not just friends, Charlie... we’re platonic soulmates,” you said. The two of you laughing before your laugh turned into a pained grunt.

When the two of you met a few years back, you clicked instantly. It was like something you only see in movies. Within the first day of knowing each other, you already had a bunch of inside jokes. One of them being that the two of you got along so well because you were platonic soulmates.

“How could I forget? Platonic soulmates,” she repeated, a wide and genuine smile reaching her eyes.

You gladly returned the smile. “You are frickin’ amazing too, nerd,” you smiled. She playfully shoved you, being careful of your injuries.

Sure you were in agonising pain, but now you knew that Charlie was safe and okay. And you would take sore and happy over dead and... well, dead, any day. You had your platonic soulmate and you knew that she would be there every step of the way on your who-know-how-long road to recovery.

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dregstrash · 4 years

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Knife in the Back (ch. 3)

a/n: Here’s chapter 3 of the collab fic I did with @wafflesandkruge for the @grishaversebigbang. Definitely check out all the art that came with this in the first chapter! Hope you guys enjoy!

AO3 // Chapter 1

Anyone can make a mistake.

That single thought spun in Inej’s mind as she drove back to the station after her brief meeting with Kaz Brekker.

No one was infallible. Human error was always going to be a factor. Even self-proclaimed experts could make the stupidest mistakes. Brekker shouldn’t be an exception. It should have been simple to believe that he had taken off his glove after dumping the girl, and had thrown it away by accident.

If she could manage to believe that, and when Wylan was done analyzing the glove, she could have enough evidence to bring Kaz in with one concrete piece of evidence. It could be enough to prosecute him for this murder, and then tie that back to the unsolved murder from five years ago which she had always suspected he was behind. In one fell swoop, she could bring Kaz Brekker down. But, unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to believe that someone as meticulous as him would ever just take his gloves off at the end of a job, and leave them out in the open.

She’s spent the better part of three years following the murky and unclear path of Kaz Brekker, and if she knew anything about the Bastard of the Barrel it was that he always got the job done, and he always left no trace. Rumors say that he was a sleeper agent from Shu-Han, waiting for the right moment to strike against the Kerch. Others say that he was tied to dozens of murders of high dignitaries and ambassadors, and that if you ever wanted to make someone disappear, he was the best. Inej has spent countless hours pouring over the stories and the hearsays, but nothing could ever point to anything conclusive.

And with this one perfectly wrapped crime scene sitting on her lap, it was hard for her to take it as it was. She pulled up to the police parking lot, and headed straight for the forensics department. Wylan had texted that he had something promising, and Inej was ready to hear about anything that didn’t have a massive question mark attached to it.

“Hey, Inej.” Wylan called from the back of the room as the sliding doors let Inej in her friend’s office.

“Wylan,” Inej greeted as she reached where her friend was hunched over his computer looking at a document that made Inej’s eyes swim. “You said you had something for me?”

He looked up and his sky blue eyes danced excitedly, making his red gold curls appear more disheveled than usual.

“Yes! You were right. The glove does match the DNA evidence that was found in your cold case from five years ago. So it’s definitely Kaz Brekker’s.” Inej didn’t even have time to be surprised before Wylan continued. “With the state of the body, I think you can probably guess to the cause of death.” He pointed to the bullet hole through the hear of the corpse. “But there was a significant penetration at her kidney that happened ante-mortem.”

“Torture?”

Wylan lifted his shoulders, “Most likely.”

Curious, Inej thought. The murder was almost exactly like her cold case, but while she was positive Kaz Brekker was the culprit to the former, she couldn’t be positive about him being responsible for the latter.

“What about the clothes? Did you get anything on those?”

At this Wylan’s eyes dimmed slightly, “Unfortunately no. I can only really tell you that they had been freshly washed. No traces of hair or any carpet fibers or anything. If Brekker really did this, then he was pretty careful about taking out any evidence that could even remotely connect him to this murder.”

“Except for the glove.” Inej reminded him.

Wylan tilted his head and nodded.

Inej sighed, “It just doesn’t make any sense. How can all the evidence point to Brekker, but then not point to him all at the same time?”

Wylan shrugged, and ran his hands through his hair, the gesture making him appear younger. It was so easy to forget that Wylan was just a little younger than Inej. He was the youngest forensic expert to ever work in their precinct, and he was a kid genius on top of it all. If things didn’t make any sense to him then something truly wasn’t adding up.

Inej stared at the glove sitting innocently in an evidence container and tried to iron out the doubts that were sitting restlessly in her mind. Forgetting everything else, if the culprit wasn’t Kaz Brekker, then who would it be? And why go through all the trouble to frame him?

Her thoughts were disrupted as she heard the sliding doors of Wylan’s office slide open.

Matthias appeared with his usual scowl, and Inej suppressed a smile at Wylan’s suddenly straight posture. Wylan would never admit it aloud, but Inej suspected he was still afraid of Matthias.

“The CCTV footage has been sent over.” Matthias told Inej.

“Great.” She said. “Thanks for all you help, Wy. Let us know if you find anything else.”

“Will do.” He saluted and turned to face his computer.

“Also,” Inej brought up before she could leave, “Try to lighten up on the coffee.” She gestured to the three empty coffee cups on his otherwise organized desk. It didn’t escape her notice that they all came from Brekker’s Brews. “That stuff will kill you, you know?”

Wylan blushed a bright red at Inej’s insinuation, but he only offered a nod in acknowledgement. It seems that even if she had told him who was the owner of that particular establishment, it couldn’t quite keep their lab tech away.

“What did Wylan say about the glove?” Matthias said as he sat back on his chair, waiting for the grainy video to hint at any clue that could help them in their case.

Inej didn’t turn to look at him, but she responded anyway, “He said that it could point to being Brekker’s and could link him to the murder that happened five years ago.”

“But you don’t think it’s him, do you?”

Inej sighed, “I don’t know what I think. I want it to be him. I want the evidence to be nice and clean and I can finally put his ass behind bars. But I’ve been on Brekker’s tail for a long time, and he’s not this sloppy.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.” Matthias responded. And while that was exactly her thought, she just couldn’t get herself to believe it, even if it came from her trusty partner.

Inej was about to tell him her doubts when a movement happened on screen.

“Okay looks like we got something here.” Matthias said.

There were two figures that entered the periphery of the camera. One was clearly shorter than the other, but built like a brick wall, while the other had the stature of a football player. Despite the grainy footage, Inej was still able to discern the faint presence of a tattoo on both of their forearms.

She held her breath as they both looked over their shoulders, clearly looking on the lookout for something. The football player smiled and nudged his friend roughly. The other shook his head and shoved him away. He walked to where the body was found and made another comment to his friend. The shorter man walked off screen, and before the video could continue white static filled the screen.

“What--”

“The wires got cut around there, unfortunately.” Matthias sighed. “This was the only street cam facing the alley, and there was nothing that showed up on the closest street cameras. But did you see those tattoos?”

Inej nodded, “Razorgulls. Do you still have contacts in the gang unit?”

“No need.” He said. “I remember those guys from my gang unit days. They hang around the docks. If we don’t find them there, I know a couple more popular hangs for these guys.”

“Let’s go.”

By the time Matthias and Inej had caught sight of the two figures from the surveillance cameras, they were a little late. It had nothing to do with the fact that they had been scouring the city long enough for the true dark of the night to descend upon them. It had to with the fact that someone had gotten to the two gang bangers first. And that someone was Kaz Brekker. If that wasn’t bad enough, it looked like he was in the middle of beating them to death.

“Hey! Stop! Police!” Matthias’s deep voice cut through the cries of pain coming from the two men. But it was like he said nothing at all because Brekker used the cane in his hand to swing down on a shin. Inej struggled to prevent her shudder as she heard the distinct sound of bone shattering.

“I’ve told you all that I know!” The man screamed through his pain.

“I consider myself a good judge of character, Geels, and I know for a fact you’re lying.” Kaz opened his mouth to say something else, but Matthias was almost on him and he growled in frustration, “Looks like we’re going to have to continue this conversation later. That is if you can post bail.”

Kaz broke for a run just as Matthias got within arms reach, and Inej had to hand it to him, for someone who needed a cane to navigate through the world, he moved faster than shadow. But unfortunately for him, Inej knew she was faster.

“Matthias arrest those two,” She gestured to the two injured men, “I’ll take Brekker!”

She broke out into a run, and while Kaz had a head start, she would argue she knew this harbor better than anyone. Including Kaz. So when he had turned a left into a row of cargo containers in an attempt to confuse her though the maze of metal boxes, she just smiled to herself and climbed one with practiced ease. It took her almost no time to see his path and even less time for her to sprint and jump and land right on top of him.

His body cushioned her fall, and if her mind wasn’t so preoccupied with the bruise she knows she’s going to have on the knee that took some of the fall, she would have had room to ponder at the heat emanating from him, as well as the way she felt his muscles freeze in what seemed like panic when her hand brushed against the exposed skin of his wrists.

“Kaz Brekker, you’re under arrest for the assault of two key witnesses in a murder.” Inej grunted reaching around her waist for her handcuffs.

She waited for his inevitable comeback, but for the first time of ever talking to Kaz Brekker, he was silent. Inej studied him, and noticed the clench in his jaw and the glazed expression in his eyes. She’s arrested her fair share of criminals, and one way or another they had the same panicked, trapped expression. But Brekker wasn’t acting like a trapped criminal, he was a cornered animal that looked like he might pass out at any given moment.

Is he okay?

No sooner had she thought it, Matthias materialized at her shoulder breathing heavily.

“Leave it to the great Inej Ghafa to catch the most uncatchable killer.” He said.

Inej wrenched her mind away from Kaz’s strange behavior and scrambled off of him after securing the metal cuffs.

Matthias grabbed Kaz roughly and had a tight hold on his shoulder.

“Watch his hands, Helvar. He’s a slippery one.” Inej managed, still puzzled by Brekker’s uncharacteristic silence.

Matthias nodded, but Inej’s focus wasn’t on him. She just watched Kaz get led to the police car, pondering the simple fact that the great Kaz Brekker seemed to be having a panic attack.

#grishabigbang20 #knife in the back #soc #six of crows #KANEJ #kaz x inej #matthias helvar #wylan van eck

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