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ssahoodrathotchner · 4 years ago

Text

There is a Light That Never Goes Out

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you get kidnapped by an unsub and needless to say, it’s not fun

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: swearing, blood, injuries, stabbing, panic attacks, kidnapping, hospitals, angst and fluff

A/N: wanted to write something angsty with a happy ending and here we are! the longest thing i’ve ever written

Masterlist

---

In hindsight, things could have gone better. The case itself was pretty straightforward, with the biggest complication being where the hell Michael Robertson was hidden away. However, no man can hide from Penelope Garcia and within six hours of figuring out Robertson was the unsub, she had his location narrowed down to a small farm in the middle of nowhere. Of course, you thought, where else would a guy like him torture and kill seven women.

Pulling up to the seemingly small farmhouse, you and Reid exchange looks before tightening your bulletproof vests. Double—triple—checking your gun, you tune in to Hotch and Rossi giving directions to the team and local PD about breaching the home. Hotch and Prentiss will take the front door, Morgan and Reid the back, while Rossi and JJ have the barn—you’ll take the side door and meet in the middle, easy. Local PD will secure the perimeter and provide backup as needed. Giving Hotch a reaffirming nod, you disperse to your entry points.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your weapon and prepare to bust this door down in hopes that Robertson will surrender peacefully and you can all go home because fuck do you want to get out of Iowa. Hearing Hotch’s signal, you kick down the door in front of you—a welcome plus of your job—and announce your presence. However, you’re met with a hard elbow to the face. Reeling backwards and tasting blood, you only have the sense to cup your now bleeding—and most likely broken—nose with your free hand.

“Motherfucker,” you spit out in pain, the comms in your vest picking up your voice.

“Y/L/N, report,” Hotch demands, voice scratchy through your earpiece.

However, you are unable to respond as Robertson moves towards you and, taking advantage of your dazed state, hits you over the head with a fucking two-by-four once, twice, nope three times before the jagged wood floor is rushing up to meet you as you collapse into darkness. Oh, fuck. You’re out before you hit the ground.

---

As soon as Aaron hears you swear, he knows it’s bad, but one look at Emily has him forging ahead and clearing each room like he is supposed to. Checking in with the other duos, Hotch can’t help but worry when you don’t respond immediately. When he finally gets to the mid-point of the house and the exact spot where you were supposed to rendezvous with him, Emily, Derek, and Spencer, his worries spike exponentially.

“Where’s Y/L/N,” he spits out.

“We didn’t see her,” Morgan answers carefully. “We assumed she found you guys,” he adds, and Hotch grits his teeth.

“Clear in the barn,” he hears Rossi report, and he sighs.

“Y/L/N is missing,” he says, surprisingly calm. “Report to the house.”

Police officers shuffle through the house, and Aaron tries not to let his irritation show. Turning back to the team, he can’t help but notice how worried the rest of them are.

“Our one and only priority is finding Y/N,” he states.

“I’ll get Garcia onboard to coordinate what happens next,” Morgan says, excusing himself from the tension of the farm house sitting room. “Expect some very distressed calls in your futures,” he finishes with a shake of his head.

“Emily and I will re-check the rest of the house, just in case,” JJ supplies, and Hotch nods. Reid, looking uneasy, makes some excuse about double-checking the floor plans of the property before skirting out the door, leaving Dave and Aaron—and some police officers—to survey the bland artwork on the walls.

Grasping the bridge of his nose, Aaron tries to take a deep breath, but he can’t; not with you missing on the property owned by an unsub fucking known for mutilating women.

“Hey,” Rossi approaches from Hotch’s left. “We’ll figure this out. Y/L/N’s a smart girl; she won’t go down easy,”

Hotch can only hope that Rossi’s right, but he trusts you; trusts your instincts as an agent.

---

You come to in bits and pieces. Some part of your brain recognizes that you’re being dragged by your armpits down some rickety stairs and deep into the earth; another part recognizes that your hands are free, which means your gun is no longer in your grasp. Fuck fuck fuck. A particularly harsh blow to your head from the hands of your captor stops any further thoughts. Fuck you, Robertson.

---

Regrouping with the team outside the house, Hotch starts to get agitated.

“What do you mean there’s an elaborate tunnel system beneath the house, Garcia,” he almost yells. “How did you not catch this before.”

“Well,” Reid steps in, “the only plans that include this system are dated between 1910 and 1924 which means that they were built in at least the 1900s and the fact that they do not appear in any property plans since those dates suggests that the subsequent owners either didn’t know about the tunnels, or they actively chose to not include them for some reason which—”

“—which means that we don’t really have a clue as to what the current tunnels look like,” Morgan finishes for him, and Hotch internally blanches.

No, he thinks to himself. I will not lose her like this, not after Haley.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch tries to re-assess the situation, but finds himself unable to breathe deeply. At all. Gasping, he tries to communicate to the team the severity of their situation, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. Vaguely, he hears Morgan clear the room as JJ gently takes his upper arm and steers him out the back door of the house on to the porch.

“Hotch,” he can’t stand to listen to her voice; her calm demeanor only increasing his anxiety about your current situation.

“Hotch,” JJ tries again, harsher this time. “I need you to take a breath; only one, just now, that’s it.”

I can do that, he thinks. And he does; he takes one solitary breath.

“Good,” she encourages, “now do it again, just once.” And so he does, again, and again, for JJ.

Once his breathing is under control and JJ steps back with an appraising eye, he speaks.

“We need to find her,” he gasps out. “We have to; I can’t—” he trails off.

With a softness he has yet to comprehend, JJ looks into his eyes and sighs.

“We’ll find her, Hotch,” she reassures him. “She’s on the property, she has to be, and we’ll find her.”

With a shaky nod, Hotch allows JJ’s words to take hold of him, and he goes back to being the BAU’s Unit Chief. Gazing out on the field behind the house, his resolve is firm; Aaron Hotchner will find you, Michael Robertson be damned.

---

The next moment you remember—thanks broken nose and probable concussion—is your body being roughly thrown into a plastic chair, sans bullet-proof vest, and then your arms and legs being tightly tied down. A rag of some sort is crudely stuffed into your mouth, and you can’t help but gag because fuck does it do nothing to replace the gross taste of blood in your mouth. At least it’s me, you think to yourself, I’d hate to think of anyone else from the team in this position. And with that thought, you drift out of consciousness with Aaron’s face in the forefront of your addled mind. Love, I hope you find me soon.

---

It’s been three hours and Aaron Hotchner is losing his mind. Garcia, to her credit, is working furiously to uncover literally everything she can on Robertson, his family, friends as well as the closest neighboring farms to the one the BAU is currently ripping apart. Prentiss and Morgan have taken to meticulously going through each and every room of the house and barn in hopes of discovering some new and hidden passageway to the tunnel system that resides under the structure. Reid is creating an enhanced geographical profile of the property and those that encompass it, while JJ and Rossi discuss the nuances of Robertson’s profile somewhere with the local cops. Aaron, however, can only seem to scowl at the field of corn behind the house and remember the last moments he had with you before you disappeared.

“Hotch,” he turns when he hears Morgan’s voice. “We’ve got something.”

Heart racing, Hotch nods and follows Morgan out the side door—the one you entered—before stopping just short of the man in front of him.

“Local crime scene techs just confirmed that there’s blood here, and judging from the placement of the drops, it seems that Robertson got the drop on Y/L/N,” he states with a grimace, and Hotch can’t help but scrutinize the ground where your blood has fallen.

“Reid’s got a better handle on what might have happened, but I thought you’d like to see it for yourself,” Morgan finishes, and Hotch nods tightly before moving off in search of Reid. Finding the young profiler in the front room of the farm house, Hotch only has to look at him before he’s revealing all that he’s learned since your disappearance.

“It seems that the blueprints for the house were updated once since the 1920s, which was in 1953, so that’s our most recent map of what the whole underside of the property looks like,” Reid continues. “From what I can tell, there are at least five entrance points, three main walkways, and eight different chambers that appear to function as some form of bunker for the previous owners, and so my guess is that Y/N is being kept in one of the rooms, just like the previous victims most likely were,” Reid pauses. “Not that Y/N will become another victim, I’m just saying that for the sake of the case it appears that—” Emily enters the room and Hotch has never been so grateful for her presence in a room, ever.

“Hey, I don’t mean to disrupt Reid’s briefing, but local PD has found a possible way into the fuckin’ labyrinth out in the barn,” she states, curiously looking over at the map Reid has scribbled onto the property blueprints.

Turning his head sharply, Hotch nods at Prentiss and uncrosses his arms as she leads him out of the farm house as Reid continues to ponder the blueprints in front of him.

---

The next time you rise to consciousness, Robertson is dragging an ugly hunting knife across your collarbones, shoulder to shoulder, and cooing at you to wake up. Weirdo.

“Ah, there you are baby,” Robertson says sweetly. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up for me.”

You let out a groan and through the gag in your mouth—holy fuck does it taste like dirty socks—you attempt to cuss out your captor.

“Now, now, Sweetness,” Robertson chides. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” and with that terrifying statement, he leans closer to you and pulls the knife across your left shoulder, effectively slicing open your work shirt. Damn, you think to yourself, this was actually one of my favorites. But that’s the last coherent thought you produce because the combination of Robertson’s knife, the searing pain of your broken nose, and your own possibly concussed brain are unable to completely comprehend any more information as the man in question leaves light slices across your upper chest. Thankfully, the rag—sock? —in your mouth muffles your whimpers as you jolt in pain. Aaron, please find me soon you think before the feeling is all-encompassing and your mind shifts to merciful blankness.

---

“I wish I could do more,” Garcia states, but Hotch can only sigh in agreement.

“You’ve done well, Garcia. Let me know if you find anything else,” Hotch states, eyes darting over to the geographical profile Reid is standing in front of, conversing with Emily. The tunnel found by local PD had been a decoy, and they were no closer to finding you.

“Of course, Sir. I’m on it like Sergio on tuna. Garcia out,” and with that statement, the line goes dead.

Putting his phone in his pocket, Hotch walks towards Reid and Prentiss with purpose.

“Reid, have you found anything else about the tunnel system?”

“It appears that there are a series of false entrances that don’t actually connect with the full network of passageways,” Reid states gesturing wildly at the map. “The full system can only be accessed from four different vantage points, but given that this map hasn’t been updated since the 50s, I only have a general idea of where the entryways are given that the buildings on the property have shifted since the last accurate map was compiled.”

“The good news is that two of the entrances seem to be contained within this house, the bad news is that they may have been bricked over by renovations to the building,” Prentiss says with a grimace. “The other two entries are somewhere out in what’s now the fields, so we’ll have less luck finding them, even with all the extra help from the PD.”

Hotch’s shoulders sag under the weight of the new information and he frowns at the agents in front of him. Squinting hard at the blueprints haphazardly tacked to the board in front of him, Hotch tries to make sense of the possible entry points in the house he’s currently standing in.

“Get Morgan in here,” Hotch finally says. “He’s got experience with restoration work and may have a better idea on where the unsub could have taken Y/N from within the house given the structural changes.” And with that, Hotch strides out the front door of the house and leans on the porch railing. Y/N, I’m coming for you, just hold on a little longer.

---

Robertson is a bitch. And he has the knife to prove it.

“So, you’re impotent, that’s why you’re using such a big knife, right?” you taunt him after who knows how fuckin’ long. “You see, we thought you had, mmm, issues, but we didn’t know for sure; this just confirms it.”

He took the gag out of your mouth to hear you scream, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing so. However, instead of responding to your jabs, Robertson just drives the knife a little bit deeper into your torso and you let out a hiss in retaliation, throwing your head back.

“God, you sure know how to treat a girl, don’t ya?” you grit out between pained breaths. “No wonder a charmer like you had so many lady friends.”

“They didn’t appreciate me!” Robertson yells. “Just like you don’t appreciate me!”

The next slash glances off your ribs and yikes does it fuckin’ hurt. Jerking away as best you can, you contemplate your options. At this point, you know your only way out is to either escape—as if—or to make Robertson see some semblance of reason. Otherwise, you aren’t going to make it out of here alive. Fuck, you think, I’m so sorry, Aaron. I promise I’ll find you. Or you’ll find me. A particularly vicious cut to your cheekbone draws you back to reality, and once again, you are only able to focus on the pain and Robertson’s maniacal laughter. Creepy motherfucker.

---

Hotch has never seen Morgan so focused. Scouring the blueprints with Reid and Prentiss, Garcia on speakerphone, Morgan works to figure out where the hell Robertson could have disappeared to inside the house. With you. Hotch has taken to pacing the length of the house in order to keep his nerves and his temper somewhat under control; he needs to be alert and ready to get to you as soon as possible. Running a hand through his hair and over his face, Hotch sighs which draws the attention of Rossi and JJ who slowly drift over to him from their place by a window.

“Hotch—” JJ starts but is cut off by a hard look.

“We’ll find her, Aaron.” Rossi tries. “You know that she’s here somewhere, probably giving Robertson all sorts of hell.”

“We’ve seen what Robertson does to his victims, Dave,” Hotch retorts. “He basically slices women to pieces and beats them,” taking a breath, he tries to calm himself. “We need to find her alive,” he finishes softly.

JJ and Rossi share a concerned look before Rossi sighs and steps forward to place a hand on Hotch’s shoulder.

“We’ll find her. There’s no way—” he’s cut off by an excited yell and the three of them swing around towards the source of the noise which happens to be Prentiss.

Morgan’s already moving, stalking into another room and Reid, accompanied by Garcia on the phone, hurries to catch up.

“We found the door Robertson most likely used to take Y/L/N and we’re pretty sure it connects to the full system under the property,” Prentiss explains and that’s all it takes for Hotch to stride off after Morgan and Reid.

Head spinning, Aaron fluctuates between hope and hopelessness. He knows they’ll find you; Robertson can’t hide in the tunnel system, no matter how well he knows them, but he’s most worried about you. We’re coming for you, Y/N. I won’t let this bastard get away with this.

---

Your whole body fucking hurts and you’re pretty sure it’s not just because you started off your captivity with a broken nose and concussion. Your mouth tastes like blood again from how hard you’ve clamped down on your bottom lip to resist screaming as loud as you can. Robertson is cruel, there’s no question about that. You’d seen the photos of his other victims, and now you were undergoing the same things those women did in their last moments. Your entire body feels heavy, and if you weren’t tied down to a chair, you don’t think you’d be able to hold yourself up. Between the blood loss and head trauma, you’re surprised your thoughts are still relatively coherent.

Robertson is pacing in front of you, muttering to himself, shooting looks your way, and absentmindedly gesturing with the knife in his hand. Fantastic, you think hazily, he’s most likely devolving and I’m the only one around. Yay. Sucking in a breath, you wince as the action reignites a dizzying pain in your torso. Letting out a groan, you flinch as Robertson turns towards you, eyes shining with something that makes your heart race a little quicker.  

“Now, baby,” he states with a twisted grin—grimace? —that makes you grit your teeth even harder. “I’m not done with you yet, don’t worry. I still wanna hear you scream for me.”

Here we go again.

“Do your worst,” you snarl at him, and while that’s probably the worst thing to say to a devolving unsub, you’re too fed up and tired to care at this point; you can take it, you have to take it so you can survive. C’mon, Aaron. Where’s my knight in shining armor? Robertson descends on you with renewed vigor, and after the fourth slice to your leg, your ears rush and your head drops to your chest as you pass out. Fuck.

---

The trap door Robertson dragged you down can only be accessed by sliding one of the wooden floorboards back half an inch before it clicks into place and the adjoining boards lift slightly, revealing the way into the tunnels. How Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss figured that out is beyond Hotch’s current thought process because how many times had he paced over that exact spot? As soon as the hatch is lifted, all he sees is blood—your blood—sprinkled on the steps that descend into the darkened passageway. He takes a sharp breath and somewhere behind him, he can hear JJ gasp and Morgan swear.

“Medics are on stand-by,” comes Rossi’s voice from his shoulder.

Nodding tersely and setting his shoulders, he turns to the team.

“Stay alert and stick together. We don’t know where Robertson is, so clear the rooms and move on.” His voice is hard and leaves no room for debate.

“Let’s go get our girl,” Morgan adds, and with that, the team takes careful steps down into the hallway, following Aaron.

---

The first room they happen across is empty, as are the second, third, and fourth rooms. Forging ahead, knowing that they’re only closer to where you are, they continue. Turning a corner, Hotch can hear movement and his heart speeds up. Robertson. Signaling to the team to pause, he gauges the best course of action. He doesn’t know what state you’re in, or Robertson for that matter, and so he has to approach the situation with caution. Gun in hand and stepping to one side of the door, he lets Morgan and Prentiss move to the other. Backed by JJ, Reid, and Rossi, Hotch nods and Morgan kicks down the door before moving quickly inside, yelling at Robertson. Prentiss follows him and then Hotch steps through and freezes.

Robertson is crouched over your crumpled and bloody body looking wild-eyed at the agents in front of him. Hotch can’t breathe. You aren’t moving.

“She’s mine,” Robertson snarls, brandishing a knife at Morgan as he tries to get closer. “Mine!”

“Okay, Michael,” says Rossi calmly, “Let’s figure this out.”

“No. She’s mine! I’m not done,” Robertson’s reply is harsh, bordering on a yell.

“What do you mean you aren’t done, Michael?” Hotch’s voice is cold and flat. What more could Robertson possibly want?

“She didn’t scream! I need her to scream for me!” and with that, Robertson runs the tip of his blade down your already bloody cheek.

The team is stunned, but then Robertson raises the knife in the air over your chest and—

He falls.

Looking slowly to the right, Hotch sees Prentiss, gun raised, and then to Robertson splayed on the ground, blood pooling under his head. Vaguely, Hotch hears Reid calling for medics and alerting the local officers to what just happened. Morgan’s already at your side, turning you slowly, carefully, gently on to your back, and that’s when Hotch rushes to you, gun holstered.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. There’s blood everywhere. Aaron can’t tell if you’re breathing. He chokes back a sob. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.

“Hotch, she’s alive,” Morgan breathes, and with that, Hotch lets out a sigh of relief and allows himself to fully look at you, blinking a few times to rid his eyes of tears.

Your face is littered with shallow cuts. Your nose is bloody—definitely broken—and there’s already bruising around your eyes. Your shirt is torn and bloodied in so many places, as are your pants. He can see blood leaking slowly multiple places on your thighs, and even more from your arms and midsection. Your eyes are closed.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Hotch presses down on one of the lacerations to your torso, Morgan taking another, and JJ appearing to apply pressure on a cut that’s just a little too close to your femoral artery.

“C’mon, Sweetheart,” his voice shakes. “I need you to open your eyes, Y/N. Have to know you’re okay.”

There’s yelling from down the hallway, medics bustling into the room and taking over. Aaron can’t make himself let go of you, and it takes Rossi’s gentle but firm hand to guide him back and away from you. He can’t stop shaking.

---

You wake, briefly, when you feel yourself being lifted. Squinting, you try to turn your head, as the rest of the world comes crashing back in a wave of sound and movement. Vision blurred, you try and make sense of what’s going on around you.

“She’s awake!” calls a voice from your left, and you can make out the outline of… JJ? They’re here.

You’re shifted around more, and you get the idea that you’re being strapped down to a gurney as medics begin to wheel you out of the hellhole where Robertson held you.

Suddenly, there’s a hand grasping yours, and before your mind can comprehend what’s happening, all you hear is—

“Sweetheart…?” in the most relieved, reverent, adoring, tone you think you’ve ever heard in your life and it’s Aaron holding your hand. He’s here he’s here he’s here. He found me.

“Aaron,” his name leaves you in a sigh. “Y’found me,” you say softly, looking him over.

“Of course, I did, Sweetheart,” he says, just as soft.

“Where’s…?” you don’t want to say his name.

“Dead. Emily shot him,” Aaron answers in a low voice. Good fucking riddance.

You hum and ease back as the gurney jostles you particularly hard. Gritting your teeth, you groan as you head starts to pound even harder. Feeling yourself losing consciousness, you squeeze Aaron’s hand.

“Love you,” and before he can respond, you vision goes black and all is quiet once more.

---

After you get loaded into the nearest ambulance and speed towards the hospital, Rossi confirms that local officers have secured the scene. With not a moment to waste, the team takes off after the ambulance. Morgan calls Garcia to update her on your status and spends a majority of the ride to the hospital convincing her that she doesn’t need to fly over to see you. Hotch stares blankly out the window and replays the entire interaction with Robertson. He saw the damage Robertson did to you—I need her to scream—and can’t help but feel a little bit of pride at the fact that you didn’t give in to Robertson despite the obvious pain you endured.

The SUVs pull up to the hospital, screeching to a halt, before all the doors are thrown open and the team hurries into the lobby. The nurse at the desk looks up to find six disheveled agents crowding around the counter, worry across all of their faces.

“We’re here for Agent Y/L/N, she probably arrived twenty minutes ago,” Hotch states, voice surprisingly calm.

“I can confirm she arrived and that she’s currently being attended to, but I don’t know any more than that at this moment,” the nurse replies, looking at the computer screen.

“Do you know if she’ll be okay?” asks Spencer in a subdued voice.

“The severity of her injuries is yet to be determined, I’m afraid. She has obvious head trauma, numerous lacerations, and possible internal bleeding, but until I get another update, that’s all I can share,” the nurse says with a sad smile.

Nodding, Aaron steps away from the counter. C’mon, Sweetheart.

“Thank you,” comes Rossi’s voice from Hotch’s left, and with that, the team migrates to the largest cluster of chairs where they promptly collapse in exhaustion.

Sitting down heavily, Hotch rests his elbows on his knees and runs a hand over his face. Prentiss drops in to the chair on his left, Rossi settles in on his right. Across from them, Reid and JJ sit on either side of Morgan. Looking down at his hands, Aaron realizes that they still have your blood on them. He glares at them, somehow wishing that if he stares hard enough, it’ll vanish on its own. A hand closes around one of his, and he looks at Emily.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says softly, then, louder, “You guys too, Morgan and JJ. Let’s go.”

It’s then that Aaron looks—really looks—and sees that like him, Morgan and JJ have your blood on their hands as well. With a nod, they all stand. Morgan and Hotch walking into the men’s room while Emily follows JJ to keep her company. Mechanically, the two men stand side-by-side and turn on the taps, starting the slow process of washing away the blood that’s dried on them. Glancing to the side, Hotch sees Morgan, brow furrowed in concentration, as he scrubs under his nails.

“Thank you,” he says, stopping his own motions to fully look at Derek, who turns at the sound of his voice.

“For what?” Morgan asks, slightly confused.

“For going over the blueprints with Reid, Prentiss, and Garcia. For figuring out where in the house Y/N had disappeared. For going above and beyond to find her and— “

“Hotch, you don’t have to thank me for that,” Morgan cuts him off. “I will do everything in my power to make sure this team is okay, you know that,” and with a small grin, he adds “I’m just happy that one of my hobbies was useful for the case.”

Hotch can’t help but smile a little in return, and with that, they go back to washing their hands in a more comfortable silence.

---

Walking back into the waiting area, Hotch is confronted with the sight of Reid and Rossi surrounded by a pile of snacks from one of the vending machines. He pauses for a second, shakes his head, and then continues back to the chair he was sitting in earlier. Once he’s seated, Reid tosses him a bag of something—chips? —which he dutifully opens under the watchful eye of Rossi. Morgan snags his own snack and then leans against the nearest wall, content to stand. A short while later, Emily and JJ return, Emily’s arm secure around JJ’s shoulders, before they too are digging in to the veritable mountain of food that Reid and Rossi managed to accumulate. Sitting in silence—save the crunching of whatever food they were eating—the team takes a second to contemplate and reassess the day.

The sound of Velcro breaks Hotch out of his trance, and he looks over to see Morgan undoing his bulletproof vest. The vests which the rest of them are still wearing. There’s a scramble after that, to rid themselves of their exterior layer, which are then haphazardly stacked on an open seat. Taking a deep breath for what feels like the first time in days, Hotch sinks back in his chair and closes his eyes, head tipped back against the cool wall behind him.

“Anyone want water?” Reid is the first to break the tenuous silence. There’s a chorus of hums and head shakes before he stands and wanders off, presumably in the direction of the vending machines where he first got the food.

“She’ll be fine, you know,” Rossi says looking at Aaron, whose eyes are now open, staring at the ceiling. “She’s tough, tougher than I think we gave her credit for.”

Hotch sighs in response, but Emily is the next to speak up.

“Robertson said she didn’t scream, which…” she trails off, looking at the floor before meeting Aaron’s eyes. “I don’t think I could have done that, not like that. I can’t imagine what that was like for her...”

“I wish we had gotten there sooner,” Hotch finally says. “I wish—”

“No.” Morgan says, a hard edge to his voice. “Don’t do that to yourself, Hotch. Or any of us. We did what we could and we found her alive.”

“I know, but—” Hotch is cut off by JJ this time.

“But nothing, Aaron. She’s going to be okay.” And with that, JJ moves from her chair to the one next to him and gently puts a hand on his shoulder. “She was awake and talking before they took her away, you know that,” she adds softly.

“Hey guys, so I talked to the nurse and—” Reid returns and with those words, Hotch sits straight in his seat, JJ’s hand falling away as his attention and that of his teammates focus on what Reid has to say next. “—and apparently, Y/N only needed minor surgery to repair some internal damage from three of the stab wounds and the other slashes were relatively shallow, so they just needed to be stitched up. She also has contusions on her head from where I’m guessing Robertson hit her to initially subdue her, and she does have a concussion and broken nose, but according to the nurse Y/N only has to stay here for a maximum of three days to make sure that there are no serious effects from the concussion and to keep an eye on her sutures before she’ll be cleared to leave.” Reid’s final statement hangs in the air, sinking in, and once it does, Aaron hangs his head as tears fall down his cheeks. You’re okay. You’re alive you’re alive you’re alive.

Derek immediately calls Garcia to give her the good news and her scream of excitement can be heard by the rest of the team even though Morgan did not have her on speakerphone. Rossi chuckles to himself before looking over at Aaron and his shaking shoulders. Putting a hand on his back, Rossi doesn’t say anything, but instead, provides silent support to the man who almost lost what little he had left.

“Agent Y/L/N?” comes a voice from the desk, and Aaron wipes his eyes before taking a breath and standing and turning with the rest of the team.

“Yes?” It’s Prentiss who replies.

“We’ve moved her to a room; you can see her now,” and with that, the nurse beckons for them to follow her through the set of double-doors that lead further into the hospital. Coming to a stop, the nurse turns and fixes Hotch with a look. “I’ll warn you now, she looks worse off than she actually is, so don’t be put off by her appearance. She shouldn’t move too much because there’s a risk she’ll rip her stitches, but other than that, she’ll be okay,” and with a nod, she opens the door and ushers them inside.

Aaron’s eyes rush to take in your appearance—butterfly bandages across your nose, a few on your cheekbones and forehead, bandages up both arms, and he’s sure there’s more hidden from view. For a moment, he’s taken back to the last time he saw you laying this still. Crumpled on the floor, bloody and unmoving, Robertson with a knife crouched over you, going to kill you—

Prentiss pushes past him, breaking his train of thought, as she moves to your side and gives a low whistle before gingerly taking your hand. Aaron walks to your other side, bending down to place a kiss on the top of your head, and the rest of the team surround your bed, everyone gazing down at your sleeping form.

---

The first thing you notice is the pain in your head, followed by pain that slowly pulses through your whole body, and for a moment, you remember. Robertson, the knife, slicing, slashing, taunting, yelling, don’t scream can’t scream—

But then you feel it. The familiar pressure of Aaron kissing your head and it clears your head a bit. Not with Robertson, not with Robertson, I’m not with that fucker.

“Fuck,” you groan, mind still hazy, pain more intense, as you return to consciousness. “Wh’re am I?” you slur out next, as you blink away the tiredness in your eyes and try not to squint at the fluorescents or the shadows that are sharpening into your team.

Looking to your right, you lock eyes with Aaron, who pushes hair off of your face before smiling sweetly at you and you try to smile back.

“Hi, Love,” you say, voice low and rough. He leans down and kisses your forehead this time, before gently holding your hand.

Realizing you aren’t alone, you look around at the rest of the team, squeezing Emily’s hand in yours.

“You killed ‘im?” you ask, searching her face. She nods. “Good,” you sigh. “He was such an asshole.”

With that, Derek laughs, followed by Rossi. Emily’s shoulders drop as she lets out a chuckle, Spencer smiles, and JJ rolls her eyes with a fond grin. Almost the whole team.

As if summoned by the power of thought, Derek’s phone rings and he answers the call, Garcia’s voice coming through loud and clear on speakerphone.

“Y/N! My poor, poor, goddess divine how are you?” she questions. You clear your throat and attempt to speak, but before you can say anything Morgan is passing the phone to Aaron, who holds it closer to your face. You shoot him a grateful smile before responding.

“I’m fine, Pen. Just some cuts and scrapes,” you joke.

“That’s a lie, Y/L/N and we all know it. Don’t make me ask you again!” she chastises and you roll your eyes, holding back a wince as pain twinges through your side.

“I’ll be okay, Penelope,” you say softly. Another jolt of pain, this time in your arm, almost makes you whimper, but you bite your lip instead. An action which does not go unnoticed in a room full of profilers.

“It’s nice to see you awake, Y/N,” JJ says lightly before shooting a glance at Aaron and then looking at the rest of the team. “But we should get back to the hotel.”

“Bye my lovelies! I’m happy you’re okay, Y/N. Get home safe, please! Garcia out,” and Derek puts his phone away before smiling at you. Reid give you a small wave and Rossi claps a hand on Aaron’s shoulder before they all turn to exit.

With one last squeeze to your hand, Emily lets go and follows the rest of the team, save Aaron, out the door with the promise that they’ll return later.

When everyone is out and the door shuts behind them, you finally let out a pained breath and scrunch your eyes shut with a groan. You feel Aaron smooth a hand over your hair and you try to control your breathing, but it’s hard when your entire body hurts. Slowly, tears make their way down your face and Aaron’s quick to softly brush them away. Turning to look at him, you allow yourself to breakdown in the safety of his presence.

Your breath hitches as the tears fall faster, your head hurts, your chest hurts, everything hurts and you try not to break into a sob, but the tears won’t stop and eventually sobs wrench from your body and you let them. Aaron has tears of his own falling down his face and he holds your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles, fingertips, palm, whatever he can as he watches you break. He wants to hold you, wrap you in his arms and shield you from the pain but he can’t because your injuries prevent him from doing so and it pains him to see you this way. So he does what he can.

“I love you too, Sweetheart. I didn’t get to say it before you passed out and—” he pauses to take a breath. “I love you so much. So so much.”

“I was so scared—” you gasp through a sob. “Terrified, Aaron. I couldn’t—” you can’t speak through the force of your tears. Aaron shushes you and kisses your cheek, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“I know, Sweetheart. I know, but you were so brave, so brave and I am so proud of you for being so strong and—” he breaks off in his own soft sob. “—and for staying alive. You’re alive.”

Lifting a hand to scrub at your face, you take a few deep breaths, but more tears escape.

“I can’t—” your breath hitches at what exactly Robertson had done to you. “He wanted me to scream so I didn’t, I couldn’t. I knew what he did to the others, and I just thought that—” you take another breath. “I just thought that if I could deny him that, not give in, it would buy you guys time to find me,” you pull Aaron’s hand to your lips, resting them on the back of his hand and closing your eyes to ground yourself.

“And you did,” he replies softly, gently. “When we found you—” he takes his own steadying breath. “When we found you, Robertson was angry, he said…he said he needed to make you scream, and hearing that…I just,” he moves his hand to cup your face, softly moving his thumb over the bandage on your cheekbone. “You astound me, Sweetheart. Everyday,” he finishes in a whisper.

“I love you,” you say just as softly.

“I love you more,” he smiles, and you can’t help but smile back.

You lean forward, then. And he meets halfway, hand disentangling from yours so he can cradle both sides of your face as he sinks into the kiss. One of your own hands finds its place on his cheek and you sigh into his lips. This. This is what kept me alive, you think when he gently tilts your head. I love you I love you I love you. Thank you. With tears slowly drying on both your faces, you and Aaron revel in the comfort of each other. In the words you don’t have to speak, and the touch of the one you love. Through the worry, pain, and fear of the day, this is how it always ends. You and Aaron. Together. Safe. Loved.

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ldouble · 4 years ago

Text

Slumming It | Kevin Atwater X Reader (Chicago PD)

summary: When pulled into an undercover op for the Intelligence Unit, you couldn’t be more excited. The only person who catches your hesitation is your boyfriend. A lot is unsaid in the bullpen, your relationship being one of them.

gif is not mine :)

“You keep looking at me like that and they’re gonna know you’re slumming it with a uniform.”

Your words were punctuated by the complete zip of the knee high leather boots. But it wasn’t till the hell smacks the concrete of the locker room does Kevin look up at you, unimpressed with your statement.

You tilted your head at him, hoping it aided your humor. All it did was send the little eye contact held fleeting.

“I’m not slumming it with a uniform.” Kevin shook his head toward the ground, until he realized what he just said. “I’m not slumming it with you, either.”

Your hands found the other boot, a sigh escaping your lips at how much the tight fitting accessory is going to fit. “You’re tripping up, Atwater,” It glided up with little effort, giving you the chance to cross your legs and look across the room. “I can see Ruzek getting on your ass already.”

“Can you stop with-”

“Or is Halstead sending a sly smirk at you?”

Your light heartedness has no place in the backlit changing room and even little place in a situation like this. Joking about your boyfriend’s friends finding out about his relationship, with you standing there dressed like a hooker, all while working an undercover op...you should’ve stuck with commenting about how the color of the dress did absolutely nothing for your eyes.

Still, Kevin would’ve found a way to call you out. He was quiet but that just meant he spent more time listening. He was done with your ill timed jokes.

“Sorry.” You bit your lip, knowing you pinched a nerve. You didn’t know what to worry about more - the way you just embarrassed yourself in front of a member of the Intelligence Unit or how you insulted your boyfriend.

You hated that the latter took priority.

You found Kevin’s eyes, too dark to read. But the look he was giving you - an analytical gaze mixed with what looked like frustration with the furrow in his brow - had you resorting back to your go-to.

“We uniforms aren’t used to working anyone other than a partner.”

You could hear the worry in your voice growing as each word entered the space. If the tone didn’t solidify his assumption, the choked laugh you gave did it. Nothing said “Can I do this?” like a meek laugh.

Girlfriends worried.

Cops did no such thing.

Straightening your posture you released your hair held in a tight ponytail. Shaking it out, you offered a smile. “Having your team at my disposal just got to my head for a second.”

Kevin pursed his lips, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. He looked great, done up in his own undercover wardrobe. Of course, his wasn’t as extreme as yours.

You were pretending to be a hooker. Short dress, fishnet stockings and heels that were nearly half your height. And that wasn’t including the heel. You hadn’t looked in the mirror after Trudy bombarded you. The amount of lipstick you could just feel on you made you want to wipe it off.

Kevin on the other hand was just supposed to be him. Tall and handsome, a drink of water to fit in right among the elites of this Hookah Bar you were raiding. Minus the badge, you could’ve sworn this look of a blazer and dark jeans had made an appearance at your front door. As well as your bedroom floor at one point or another.

He walked forward, hands finding your shoulders gently, his eyes pouring into yours. He took your breathe away. Or maybe that was the anxiety creeping up on you.

“We’re not at your disposal. We’re on your side.” You couldn’t help but lean into his palm as it crept up your shoulder. “We have your back.”

“Better you than this dress.”

Again, he didn’t find it funny. You sighed, nodding in all seriousness. “You have my back.”

Giving up on the idea of convincing him with a look of complete and utter confidence (you were saving that for the mission) you strode past him, grabbing the furry white jacket off the end of the bench.

On your way, you gave him some of the rope to tug at.

“That easy to tell I’m nervous?” You asked, slipped the fur over your shoulders.

He followed your steps, the pink handbag looking teeny in his grasp. “You uniforms got no damn poker face.”

You chuckle at that, feeling better with him in a joking mood. It was forced, you could tell by the way his tongue was sticking out between his lips, but you didn’t call it out. Humor came to everybody in their own ways. Yours was easier to cling to.

“Yeah, well without a uniform I’m sure it’ll get better.” You accepted the bag, twirling it in your fingers.

“Better?” Kevin asked with offense. “Gonna be the best. Why else would we bring you up?” He whispered in your ear as you made your way to the garage.

You pretended to think for a second before turning around, tiptoeing backwards and tracing his collar.

“For you to oggle me.”

The sound of the door opening snapped you back to reality. This was work. You might’ve been pretending to be a hooker but you weren’t on the job yet. Definitely not with a colleague who you would never do such a thing with.

Kevin caught the door, holding it open for you. As you walked past you gave your best respectable-just-another-day-in-the-office smile. But upon his next words, it was hard to keep it up.

“Like I’d show them I’m slumming it with you.”

----

Slumming it, you were definitely not.

You had quested the expensive dress placed in your locker. Why did a hooker did a $500 piece of clothing that barely covered her ass? Because as a high class hooker, expensive taste breeds....expensive tasters.

Men. With money.

But there was only one man you wanted.

He had money, sure.

But he also had guns.

A whole warehouse and business of illegal firearms. Chicago, ever the “Heart of America” was this guy’s selling point. Everything shipped here and then shipped out.

But a man he was. A man with needs. Expensive needs on short time. Besides, he had cash to burn. Made sense he booked it to this club, paid for a girl, had his way with her, and then was onto a business deal with a couple AK-47s by dawn.

Lucky you, getting a front row seat to it all.

You really hoped all you got was a seat. You really didn’t want to have to go to bed with this guy.

Jay would hopefully make sure of that. Imploring a deal on this guy’s “night out”. Who could resist making some money while spending it on something as pretty as me?

You gulped, remembering your first date with Kevin. He paid for the meal, quoting something similar. He couldn’t believe I had said yes to going out. He insisted on paying.

Tough as nails he was in his bullet proof vest. Beneath it, a teddy bear with manners of every mother’s dream.

“Aye, mami, how you doing?”

You turned to the fourth? fifth? guy who approached you, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. He was security, like every other guy who had hit on you yet, and not your target.

They really thought protecting their bosses wasn’t their job. Trying to catch the runner ups was their priortiy.

“Looking for something a bit better than that.” You heard Ruzek say over the comms.

“She’s got standards,” You looked over your shoulder toward Kevin, posted at a table near by. He sent a quick wink before finishing his statement. “As every girl should.”

“High ones, too.” You whispered.

You knew he was rolling his eyes, more so at you chiming in than your hint at your secret boyfriend’s height, but missed it since your view became full by another presence.

“Hi to you, too.”

Bingo.

You smiled at the man you had waiting for all night. One glance at his opening jacket, shimmering from the gun strapped in on both sides, and you knew this was the one. You’d been studying his face for weeks, of course. But nothing said arms dealer like...arms.

Arms that you felt wrapping around you.

Arms that you had to embrace.

It wasn’t the guy that had you nervous. Or the situation. Hell, you felt fine pretending to be a hooker. You had your team behind you.

You also had your boyfriend watching. That’s what made you resistance to accepting the embrace, taking in the fluttery whispers, and nodding at the invitation to his booth.

It was one thing to go undercover and flirt. A whole other when doing it in front of the one person you were undercover with and wanted to flirt with.

You were a cop first, you reminded yourself as you sat down on the plush velvet sofa. You were a cop, you repeated at lips found your neck.

Where the hell was Jay? Swooping in to make this deal? Get you out of this?

“Hey man, hate to intrude here.”

You froze for the first time at the sound of that voice.

A voice you loved to hear. But not here. Not with some other guy all up on you.

The dealer let his grip loosen on you and as he turned toward the newest addition to the booth you got your first clear look at it.

Your secret boyfriend.

Currently playing an undercover role he was not assigned to. All while you were undercover as a hooker attempting to get in good with a well known criminal.

The rest of the team was having just as much of a frenzy on your ear piece. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jay panicking, not so much as ten feet away.

Kevin must’ve beat him to it.

Something told you it wasn’t the want to be the bad guy. Rather, break up the bad guy and you.

He had your back. Too much this time.

The target felt the same way, attempting to shake him off and coming back to you for more.

Your eyes met Kevin’s - more hallow than earlier - over the shoulder of the suspect. It sent you freezing again. What were you to do? Blow cover to save a relationship just as hidden? Or keep this going and lose something you never would’ve really had?

“I like seeing you work.” You giggled, gently pushing him off of you. Your eyes glimmered with fake admiration (really anxiety bubbling up) but it did the trick. You didn’t even have to use your line about how you would work for him later.

Taking the bait, he spun and began chatting with Kevin.

Unfortunately, he liked his work and play mixing. A hand found your leg, circling your knee. Kevin’s gaze never left the dealer’s but you could tell it was killing him. The toothpick, which had been loosely hanging out his mouth earlier, was now being gritted together so loud you could hear it over the music.

What was more obvious than his clear discomfort? The hand sneaking its way up your leg. No amount of disco lights or smoke from nearby bongs could hide the manly grasp on your thigh.

Even when he lifted your skirt up you couldn’t flinch. He was so close to admitting it all. He’d skimmed the numbers and the details but if Kevin pressed a little bit harder...

“Tell me more.”

Kevin’s eyes had swiftly found the connection on your leg. It wasn’t obvious enough for concern but his tone was. It was distant. Unfocused. Everything a dealer didn’t want in a deal, no matter the environment.

“You don’t seem interested in enough.”

“I am.” You giggled.

Damn. You were too quick to jump. He gave you a disapproving look and you could see it all falling. Everything you had worked for. Gone because you were trying to protect this case more than your real relationship.

“Not as much as me, girl.” Kevin spat.

He caught both of your attention’s, scooting closer. “I want armory. I know you have it. I can swear on the things you’re gonna do to this girl tonight, you can get it to be by tomorrow.”

OK, you weren’t the only one putting work before romance.

The thought scared you for a second but you had more to worry about. Most importantly, the feverish squeeze of your thigh that bloomed from the exciting prospect of a business deal.

The guy said it himself, shaking hands with Kevin and giving all the details we needed for a case.

You were stunned how good this was going. It was all falling into place.

Kevin seemed just as shocked too, sitting there silently...which was very unlike the bold player he was pretending to be.

Of course, no story has a perfectly happy ending.

The fault in the plan, the lack of calling out the safe word to trigger the team flying in.

The word slumming (your choice) barely crossed your mind before the guy’s lips were on yours and he was hurting you with such force.

You felt trapped for what felt like eternity (with your boyfriend looking on at least) but what was really seconds before he was ripped off of you.

“Get your hands off of her!” Kevin threw the guy on the ground, the gun in his belt loaded and aimed at his head.

He looked back at you once his hands were up, breathing heavy. OK, it had messed with his head as much as yours.

A little too much, though.

Because the next thing you knew, Kevin was kicked to the ground and the dealer was grabbing his own gun.

Thankfully, you were wearing a uniform more fit for the job.

In seconds you clashed with the arms dealer, hitting down hard on his hand to realize the gun in his grasp while simultaneously grabbing the other pistol from his pocket. Just as you lifted it up to aim it, Kevin was forcing him onto the booth, hands behind his back.

“Chicago PD!” Had just left your lips as the rest of the team came by. You breathed out, no longer having to play it cool.

Kevin was also given a break when Jay came in to take him away. In two steps he was in front of you, releasing the gun from your hand and pulling you close.

“I’m never letting you out of that uniform ever again.” He muffled into your head before tipping your chin up.

You smiled, cutting the distance between your lips till they grazed his when you spoke. “You can try all you want but I know you love seeing me out of it.”

Kevin pulled your close, squashing whatever space lay between you two.

“Woah, what’s going on here?” Ruzek called out with a holler, bringing you both to reality.

Out of the corner of your eye. you saw Kevin stumble a hand flying over his head as he thought on his feet.

You took a step forward, a hand on Kevin’s chest. “Kevin is slumming it with me, a uniform.”

Laughs erupted from the team, Voight shaking his head.

Kevin saddled up beside you, pulling you close once again.

“How many times I gotta say I’m not slumming it with you?”

“A million. “You shrugged. “I did have to lower my very high standards for-”

You words went unfinished as his lips found yours again.

You didn’t mind, thought. There’d be another undercover case sooner or later. You could tell him then how it was you who lucked out.

The End

#kevin atwater #kevin atwater x reader #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd one shot #jay halstead #adam ruzek #hank voight #chicago pd nbc #kevin atwater one shot

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jay4firefic · 4 years ago

Text

Last Train Home

Summary: When a train crashes just outside of LA, Buck doesn’t expect to find his ex-fiance Kelly Severide searching the wreckage for Shay. And this close to the anniversary of Andy Darden’s death - the event that broke them both, and their relationship with them - he’s not willing to stand by and watch any more old friends die. 3x18 rewrite for anon.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Pacific West 1135 from Phoenix to LA has derailed somewhere near the LA County line. Whatever your mass casualty protocol is, activate it. I need fire and rescue, USAR, local PD - everyone you can send, as fast as you can send them.”

“I’ll call them now. It seems like you’ve done this before.”

“I’m a firefighter out of Chicago. Dealt with a train crash before. Look, I’m going back in--”

“Sir, I need you to stay on the line. Help is on the way.”

“Help’s gonna be too late for a lot of these people.”

Click.

------

Buck dozes restlessly for most of the hour long ride to the county line, jerking awake every time Mason hits a pothole or flips the sirens on to speed through traffic. He’s exhausted, has barely slept in days, because every time dreams pull him under he sees a wall of fire rushing toward him and a burning body on the floor. He knows from experience that the rest of the week will be just as bad.

Four years and the anniversary of Darden’s death hasn’t gotten any damn easier.

“Hey, Buckaroo,” Hen calls through the headset, her hand on his knee. When Buck cracks his eyes open he can see her leaning toward him in the darkness of the cab. “You alright? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

��Am I supposed to be cracking jokes on the way to a mass casualty?” he asks, and regrets it immediately. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m fine, Hen, just having a bad day.”

She opens her mouth as if to speak again, Eddie leaning in on Buck’s other side to eye him with concern, only to be cut off when the truck shudders to a stop in the dirt. Buck is first out the door just to get away from those looks. He stops dead just outside and doesn’t move until Eddie runs into his back.

The headlights of the trucks and a few hastily set up flood lights are the only thing illuminating the scene outside, throwing deep shadows and obscuring a good chunk of the wreckage. It still looks like something that belongs on a film set rather than in real life. Twisted plastic and metal litter the ground, smoke is pouring out of one of the train cars, and even in the darkness Buck can see bodies - pieces of them, at least - scattered in every direction.

“Jesus,” Buck breathes, while Eddie mutters what might be a curse or might be a prayer in Spanish beside him. A moment later they turn in unison at the sound of Bobby’s voice.

“Buck, Eddie, go have a look. See if there’s a way to secure that car so we can get those people out.”

Buck nods jerkily as he moves away to pull the rest of his gear on and picks his way across the debris field in Eddie’s wake, trying not to look too hard at what’s under his feet. He’s seen more than his fair share of mass casualties before - the earthquake, the tsunami - but he’s always been in the middle of them, experiencing it right alongside the victims. Something about showing up to pick up the pieces after the worst of it is over hits him differently.

He’s shaken enough that he doesn’t even register the shouting at first. A man’s voice, hoarse and desperate, raised above the more measured tones of another pair of firefighters. He would have walked right past if Eddie hadn’t led them toward the scuffle.

“Get out of my goddamn way, I need to get back into that car!”

Eddie steps forward, lets the other guys escape back to doing the real work of saving people. Buck lingers several feet behind him to continue surveying the precariously tilted train car, but no matter what angle he looks at it from one thing is clear. There’s no good way in. Not without risking the whole thing coming down on them.

“Sir, I’m sorry. We can’t let you inside. It’s too dangerous.”

“I know it’s dangerous, I’m a fucking firefighter. I need to get into that car. My girl is in there.”

“I hear you,” Eddie says, hands extended and voice level. There’s something so familiar about the other voice that Buck finally glances over his shoulder at the argument. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” the man stumbles forward in the dark, grabbing Eddie’s sleeve. The light finally catches the silver in his hair, the piercing blue of his eyes, the blood dripping down his face from a ragged cut across his brow. Buck would recognize that face anywhere. “Are you from the 118?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, voice full of confusion, as Buck’s voice cracks around a soft cry of, “Kelly?”

Kelly’s gaze snaps to him immediately, eyes going wide as Buck pulls off his helmet and turns toward the light. “Buck?”

And suddenly Buck’s feet are moving without his consent and the handful of yards between them have disappeared. His gloves are off and his hands are cupping Kelly’s stubble-roughened cheeks before his brain catches up with his body, and by then it’s too late. He inspects the cut on Kelly’s brow, the way he’s cradling his left arm across his torso at an implausible angle, and barely even sees the strange look Eddie is giving him in his peripheral vision. “You were on the train? Why the hell aren’t you collared and backboarded?”

“I’m fine,” Kelly bites out. He shakes Buck’s hands off and tries to push past him, hissing in pain when their shoulders collide.

“Kelly, we need to get you checked out.”

“No, I’m fine. I need to get back up there. I need--”

“That’s crazy. No, no, Kelly, stop.” Buck hauls Kelly back by his good shoulder, forces him to sit on a nearby piece of rubble. The fact that it’s so easy to move him is proof enough that he shouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Shay is still in there!” Kelly’s voice breaks as he tries to gain his feet again only to wobble and sit down heavily. Clearly concussed, and still too stubborn to stop trying to be the hero. “Shay is still--”

Buck sucks in a sharp breath and feels his heart rate spike with panic. Shay is still in there. Shay is still in there. Andy died four years ago this week and Shay is still in there. “Where were you?” he manages to ask around the lump in his throat.

“We were in the top car, all the way in the back.” Kelly uses his good arm to point to the upended train car, because of course that’s where they were. The only person Buck has ever met with worse luck than himself is Kelly Severide. “She fell asleep. I went to get a drink, and…”

“We’ll find her.” Buck looks up at the groaning slab of metal and glass and swallows back bile. “Eddie and I will find her, alright? But you have to stay here.”

“Hell no--”

“Kel, if you go into that train you’re going to end up another victim we have to rescue. And every second I spend pulling your ass out of the wreckage will be another second Shay isn’t getting help. I’m going to find her. I’m going to bring her back to you. But you need to stay here, alright?” When Kelly keeps fighting him, Buck plays dirty. He smacks Kelly’s shoulder - dislocated, he’s pretty sure - and watches all of the color drain out of his face. “Stay here. I’ll find her.”

Kelly’s glare might frighten someone else - is enough to have Eddie stepping up to Buck’s shoulder to back him up - but Buck knows better. He crosses his arms and glares back and when Buck doesn’t back down Kelly finally folds, nodding his head and then wincing when it clearly pains him. Buck is already starting to turn away when Kelly catches his sleeve and somehow, the look on his face when Buck glances back at him is worse than the glare. Raw and painful and scared like Buck has only seen him a few times.

“If you can’t get her out…”

“We’re going to get her out.”

“Evan,” Kelly says, low and desperate. “If you can’t get her out, tell her I love her, okay? Tell her I love her.”

Buck tugs his sleeve free of Kelly’s grasp and shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m going to get her out.”

------

“So, Kelly, huh?”

Buck knows Eddie is just looking for something to distract them both from crawling over dead bodies to get into the crumpled train car. He just wishes Eddie would pick literally any other topic. Instead of answering he keys his radio, reports, “two black tags at the entrance to the car.”

“Is that the Kelly I’m thinking of, Buck?”

“My ex-fiance Kelly?” Buck replies, because there’s no way he’s getting out of this conversation no matter how much he doesn’t want to have it. “Yep. That’s Kelly.”

“You didn’t tell me he was…”

“A guy? Yeah, well, I didn’t tell you a lot of things, Eds.” His bitter laugh comes out breathless as he starts climbing the seats like the world’s most awkward ladder. There’s another lifeless body halfway up the car - Eddie stops to confirm her obvious death while Buck keeps going, dragging himself a few awkward inches at a time up toward the cascade of blonde hair barely visible at the top of the car. “Shay? Shay, is that you?!”

A pained groan echoes through the train and one of the pale hands hanging over the edge of the furthest seat twitches. Buck’s heart is in his throat as he scrambles up the last few feet to brace himself between a steel beam and a half-crushed seat, reminding himself all the while that it might not be her. It might not be her. But--

It is.

Buck sags with relief as Shay lifts her head to look at him, blinking hard when her eyes won’t seem to focus. “Buck?”

“Hey, Shay.” Buck nearly sobs, covers it with a shaky laugh as Eddie approaches. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this?”

“Dunno.” She looks around as much as she can without moving her head, her eyes widening as she takes in Buck, scraped and covered in grime already, and the disaster behind him. “Shit.”

“Yeah. How are you feeling?” Buck takes one of her hands in his and is relieved when she winds her fingers through his. He yanks the glove off of his other hand with his teeth and checks the pulse in her neck - it’s racing, and he doesn’t like the sound of her breathing. He tries not to look at the way Eddie is frowning as he climbs behind Shay to inspect what’s keeping her pinned.

“Hurts when I breathe,” she replies, squeezing his hand weakly. “You sure I’m not dead?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Weird. Could swear I’m looking at the face of an angel.” There’s blood on her teeth when she smiles, and her eyes still won’t focus on his face, but Buck grins anyway. A moment later it melts off his face when her expression turns to panic. “Kelly--”

“Is fine,” Buck cuts her off. “Busted his arm and he’s gonna need a few stitches, but he’s fine, okay? We’re worrying about you right now. Eddie?”

Eddie grimaces as he slides back down to lean against the seats on the other side of the aisle. He thumbs his radio, speaking to Buck and Bobby at the same time. “Cap, we got a passenger up here. Looks like the support beam from the observation deck broke through the floor. Need you to send up the jaws.”

“Copy that,” Bobby’s voice crackles through both of their radios. “Coming right up.”

The waiting is always the worst part. Shay’s breathing is labored and uneven, her eyes taking longer and longer to open between each blink. Buck cups her jaw and rubs his thumb across her cheek until the forces herself to look at him again, asks, “What the hell are you two doing on a train in Los Angeles anyway?”

“Andy loved trains,” Shay mumbles, leaning her head heavily into his palm. She doesn’t seem to notice the way Buck flinches at Andy’s name, but Eddie sure as hell does. “Kelly found this old list - bucket list, that they made when they joined CFD. Kid stuff, y’know? Buy a motorcycle, marry a beautiful woman, hike the Grand Canyon...we decided to check some things off the list.”

“The train was coming from Arizona.” Buck only remembers bits and snatches of Bobby’s briefing as they had all piled into the truck, but just like always it’s the random pieces of trivia that get stuck in his mind. “Let me guess, Grand Canyon?”

“It’s very grand.” Shay coughs - wheezes, really, because she can’t get enough breath in to do anything more. Buck is pretty sure her ribs are busted, among other things, but as long as the beam is pinning her to the seat it’s impossible to confirm.

“What’s next?” Buck asks, sending a panicked glance toward Eddie when her eyes drift closed again. He can hear someone climbing up below them, hopefully bringing the requested equipment, and sends up a prayer to a God he long ago stopped believing in that it’s soon enough to save her. “What’s next, Shay? Marry a beautiful woman? We’ve got plenty of those in LA.”

Shay shakes her head without opening her eyes. And fuck, her lips are turning blue. “Hollywood Walk of Fame. Surfing in California. Then Mexico.”

“Hey.” The seat Buck is braced against shudders as Bobby uses it to haul himself up the last few feet. “Take this, Buck. Eddie, what’s going on?”

“Think she might have a collapsed lung from the blunt force,” Eddie replies as Buck releases Shay and scrambles to get the jaws in position. “I can relieve the pressure, but we gotta move the beam off her.”

Buck growls in frustration as the jaws shudder and fail to make any progress toward that goal. “Still too heavy, Cap. It’s not gonna budge.”

“Alright. Let’s try the hydraulic ram.”

Buck braces his feet against the seats and grunts as he takes the heavy piece of equipment from Bobby and jams it into the space between the upturned floor and the beam. He determinedly doesn’t pay attention to the way Shay’s head has sagged forward against the seat again, or how Eddie is frowning at the O2 sensor he just slipped onto her finger, his mutter of, “Oxygen levels are dropping. Definitely a collapsed lung.” All he can do is move the damn beam.

With the horrible sound of warping metal, the thing finally starts to move. Shay takes a deeper breath as the pressure holding her against the seat begins to relax - and then the screaming starts. Buck stops the ram before Bobby’s shouts even register, watches Eddie and Bobbie drop down a few seats, and has maybe the most selfish thought he’s ever had in his life. He wishes there was no one else alive up here, because every second they spend treating someone else is a second they aren’t rescuing Shay.

Buck closes his eyes, tries to breathe through the panic as Eddie announces the girl’s broken leg, the fact that it’s still receiving blood flow, over the horrible wet background noise of Shay’s breaths becoming more labored. It takes all of his willpower to put his back to Shay and move down to meet them halfway between the victims, and when he speaks his voice comes out hoarse and breathless. “What’s going on?”

“They’re both trapped by the same beam,” Bobby announces, and Buck’s heart drops into his stomach. “We take the pressure off one and we’re squeezing the other. Which one has the better shot?”

Eddie glances up at Buck once before shaking his head. “Injuries are different, the risk is the same.”

“Wait, what are we saying?” Breathe, Buck reminds himself. Nothing is decided yet. Shay is still getting out of here, she has to get out of here alive. “We gotta pick who to save?”

Bobby looks at him pityingly and Buck is pretty sure his heart stops beating for a second. “I’m saying I don’t think we can save ‘em both.”

“Fuck.” Buck slams his fist against the nearest seat.

“Look,” Bobby says, holding one hand up placatingly while balancing himself with the other. “We’re gonna give them both some pain meds and try to figure this out, okay? We’re not giving up yet. But we have to be prepared.”

Buck nods mutely while Eddie reaches for his bag, climbs back up to Shay so that Eddie can get past with a handful of medical supplies. He takes one of her hands and watches as Eddie pulls his gloves off and then takes the other, looking for a vein in the light of his helmet lamp and making a small triumphant noise when he finds one. “You’re gonna feel a little pinch.”

Shay lets out a shaky exhale that might be a weak attempt at laughter. “Not my biggest concern right now, buddy.”

“I know,” Eddie replies. He gets the needle in on the first try and pushes the painkillers only moments later. “Alright, Shay. This is for the pain. It should hit you pretty soon.”

“I sure as hell hope so.” If she’s got energy to be snarky Buck has to believe she’s got the energy to hang on a little while longer, even if she can’t really lift her head anymore.

“Keep her talking,” Eddie commands as he passes Buck on his way back down to the other woman. Buck determinedly doesn’t listen to Eddie’s low conversation with Bobby and the victim, doesn’t want to know what her chances are because if they’re good it means Shay’s aren’t.

“It’s her...or me, isn’t it?” Shay wheezes, managing to roll her head to the side and watch Buck’s face. Her eyes are dull and tired beneath a tangle of bloody blonde hair, almost resigned.

“No,” Buck says, with more confidence than he feels. She just smiles sadly as he reaches up to brush the hair out of her face - she’s always been able to see right through him. “No, that’s not what we do. Tell me about your trip.”

“God, I missed you, kid,” she says instead, too quiet for anyone else to hear. “Every day. He does too, you know?”

“I know,” Buck replies, even though he doesn’t. If Kelly had really missed him all these years it would have been easy enough to fly out to LA and tell him that, or even just call him - everyone at 51 knew where he was the whole damn time. Hell, Kelly even knew what house he’s with. He’s spared from having to listen to Shay insist by Bobby’s grunt. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, I’m calling it,” Bobby says as soon as Buck has joined their little huddle. “We start with this girl, we get her out.”

“Copy that,” Eddie says, like it’s any other order on any other day, while Buck’s world collapses beneath him.

“No!” He feels sick. He feels dizzy. Andy died four years ago this week and Shay is being crushed by a beam right in front of his eyes and… “No, it’s gonna crush Shay’s other lung. She’ll die.”

“I am aware of that. The protocol dictates that we save whoever has the better chance, and Eddie’s saying that’s the girl.”

“No.” Buck can’t wrap his brain around the concept of a world without Leslie Shay in it. He hasn’t seen her in over three damn years, but she’s always been there on the other end of the phone - sending him pictures of Kelly and the stupid cat he still pretends to hate, updating him on the latest gossip from 51, asking when he’s going to come home. What the hell is he going to do without someone to remind him that he’s always got a home to go back to, no matter how bad things might get in LA?

“Her vitals are stronger, Shay’s starting to decompensate. If we have to choose--”

“We do,” Bobby interjects. “We can’t move that steel beam.”

Buck has his mouth open to argue when the whole train car shudders and tilts. He grabs onto the nearest seatback and risks a glance over his shoulder at Shay, at the way her shoulders are shuddering with every inhale, at the blood on her lips, at the knowing look in her eyes. “Okay,” he says, “okay, you’re right. We can’t move the beam. But the skin on this thing, the skin is stainless. That’s much thinner. I could go outside, I could cut a piece out, pull the girl through, and that will buy us enough time to save Shay.”

“No.” Bobby’s frustration is clear - he thinks Buck is wasting time. And maybe he is, but he’s trying to buy enough of it to keep Shay alive. “This car hasn’t been secured, that’s why we’re working on the inside. If this thing topples, we can ride it down. But if you’re on the outside…”

Buck cuts him off. “Yeah, I know. I will be crushed by 100 tons of train car, and I know that is a lot heavier than a fire truck.” He says it matter of factly, like the thought of being crushed between another piece of metal and the cold, hard ground isn’t making his stomach twist up in knots. Like he doesn’t still wake up screaming and clutching at his bad leg at least two nights a week. Because right now, none of that matters. Only Shay does. “But Bobby…”

“Buck, stop,” Eddie says. Endlessly reasonable Eddie. “I know you made a promise.”

“What promise?”

“To Shay’s boyfriend,” Eddie clarifies, and Buck doesn’t bother to correct him. He’s got bigger problems at the moment than whether Kelly and Shay are still getting mistaken for a couple after all these years.

“I promised I would bring her back to him,” Buck says instead.

“What?” Bobby’s expression is caught somewhere between horror and anger.

“To Kelly,” Eddie says, and his expression is just disgusted. “Her boyfriend is Kelly.”

Shock flickers across Bobby’s face, then resignation. “Okay.”

“No, look,” Buck reaches out one hand desperately, trying to keep Bobby from turning away. From killing Shay. “She’s one of us. She’s a paramedic in Chicago, okay? She saves lives every day. We can’t just let her die.”

“Stop,” Bobby says, finally raising his voice. “You are too close to this. This is too risky.”

“Well, I am willing to take the risk.” Willing to trade his life for his, if that’s what it takes.

This time Bobby snaps. “It’s not yours to take. You can’t just rush into any dangerous situation and assume it’s gonna be okay. ‘Cause sometimes it’s not, and I am tired of being on the wrong side of those hospital visits.”

And Buck is - he’s just sick of it. He’s not a child running headlong into danger because he doesn’t understand the consequences. He’s been a firefighter for nine fucking years, he’s watched friends and strangers die right in front of his eyes. Nearly died himself more than once. There’s no way he would rather go out than saving someone - anyone, but especially a friend.

“Bobby,” he grits out. “I am not Athena. And I am not your son.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Enough!” Eddie shouts over the both of them. “We don’t have time for this. Buck, come on.”

“No.” Buck doesn’t look away from Bobby. Wills him to understand that he has to do this. “Nobody has to die, okay? I can save them both. So stop wasting time and let me do it.”

Bobby switches to a different tactic, visibly pushing his frustration down and reaching for the expression of a disappointed but hopeful father. “Buck, you don’t owe this to Kelly, alright? You don’t owe him your life.”

“This isn’t about Kelly!” Buck can feel his voice raising, hear the other girl crying and the way Shay has started whimpering with every exhale. “This is about Shay. I would dig her out of here with my bare fucking hands whether Kelly is here or not. And I am not going to let her die because you’re more worried about risking harm to me than guaranteeing her death. I’m going out there whether you like it or not - so either help me, or get the hell out of my way.”

Buck turns and scrambles back up the seats to Shay and his gear. He has a harness, rope, a saw. He can do this on his own if he has to, though it would be easier with Eddie’s help. Eddie who is busy having a furiously whispered conversation with Bobby that he doesn’t care to listen in on. If he has to listen to them weighing the value of his life against Shay’s he’s going to start screaming and he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop.

“Buck,” Shay whispers, watching as he ties the rope onto his harness and starts searching for an anchor point near the window he intends to go out of. “I can still hear, you know. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Buck replies. A thrill of triumph runs through him as Bobby shouts up that he’s going down to see if they can stabilize the car and orders Eddie to ‘help Buck, before he gets himself killed.’ “I know, but I want to. No place I’d rather be than between you and certain death.”

“Kelly will forgive you.”

“It’s not about Kelly!” Buck snaps at her, wincing when she flinches away from the noise. He feels Eddie at his shoulder, passes off the rope to him and starts working on busting open a window instead. “I am not going to watch any more friends die, Shay. Not this week, not ever if there’s anything I can do about it. Don’t ask me to do that. And don’t ask me to walk out of here without a scratch and tell Kelly the love of his life is dead either, okay?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Shay sighs, quieter with every word. Buck can barely hear her over the sound of the window shattering. They’re running out of time. “That’s always been you.”

It’s not true, Buck knows. It’s always been Kelly-and-Shay, it always will be Kelly-and-Shay, and he was never jealous of that. They love each other, are meant to grow old and gray and die together. They loved him too, once, and maybe they still do, but it’s not the same.

“Just shut up and let me save you,” he says, as Eddie finishes rigging up the rope and pulley.

He makes the mistake of looking back at her one more time and sees tears cutting tracks in the blood and grime on her face. “If I don’t make it out of this--”

“Don’t.”

“If I don’t make it out of this, Evan, just...tell Kelly I love him, okay?”

“You’re going to make it out of this.”

“I love you too, kid. Never stopped.”

Buck exchanges a tense glance with Eddie and hauls himself and the saw out the window without another word.

------

“That’s Buckley, isn’t it?” Kelly demands of the man wearing Captain’s gear and barking orders into a radio. He had come out of the upended train car looking tense and pissed off, and isn’t any happier when he rounds on Kelly. “What the hell is he doing?”

“Kelly, right?” Captain Nash asks, and he looks a little like he’d rather be punching Kelly than talking to him. “Your girlfriend is alive. And she’s going to stay that way, even if it kills Buck.”

Kelly doesn’t bother to correct him, or to respond to the barely veiled accusation in his words. He only has eyes for Buck and the shuddering, creaking train car he’s descending on a rope, putting his life at risk to save someone else’s. Just like Kelly has watched him do dozens of times before. Except it’s nothing like before, because he can’t stop thinking, I sent him in there. I sent him in there and now he might die. But it was for Shay, and it’s - it’s an impossible choice, Buck or Shay, the woman who’s never left his side or the love he chased away because he couldn’t see past his own grief.

He would trade places with either of them in a heartbeat.

“Come on, Evan,” Kelly murmurs. “Come on. You’ve got this.”

Second half coming later this week.

#chicago fire fanfiction #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 on fox #evan buckley #kelly severide #leslie shay #eddie diaz #buck x kelly severide #my fic #3x18 rewrite

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3racha-placebo · 5 years ago

Text

Photo

masterlist 💌

bang chan x reader

requested by @/aisakaab ❣️

warning: it's sexting, it's light smut, don't worry 😂 no proof reading

part 2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Okay so, don't judge me but what would you do if you're single, horny and alone at your apartment in a Friday night? Dating apps just to sext someone. Logical right?

"If someone doesn't talk to me in the next 5 minutes I'll close this shit" you say to yourself as you go through profiles of guys.

No one caught your attention until a profile came up.

"Chris... let's check you up" you bite your lips as you go through his photos. Dark hair, kinda curly, he has like one photo in color and the rest are B&W.

His bio says he's a producer, songwriter and he works in the music industry.

"If this guy is playing to be Bang Chan, I'll block him, creep" You swipe right hoping to talk with someone decent enough.

Chan gets a notification from the dating app he has on his phone hiding in a folder.

"Shit" He looks up, he's on the studio fixing a track while Changbin is playing on his phone and Jisung is sleeping on the couch.

"Changbinah, I'll go to the bathroom, you want something to eat?" He stand up and puts a black mask over his face.

"No hyung, I'll eat later" He doesn't look up. Chan walks to the door trying to not make sound. "Wait" Changbin calls him. "Maybe grab someone for Ji cuz you know he gets hungry when he wakes up".

Chan nods his head and closes the door behind him.

He starts walking to the "quiet room" far away from the studio. He knows that no one will bother him there cuz: one, it was late and two, the walls were glass but no one could look inside cuz of the protection it has.

He sits in the couch inside the quiet door, opens the app and goes to the notification.

"Fuck she's gorgeous" Chan doesn't hesitate to send a text.

Dating app conversion:

"Hmm, hi baby girl"

"Oh hey you, are you alone?" Fuck am i really that impatient, whatever.

"Yeah, i left my friends to came to talk to you."

"Your photos are nice, I like your hands"

"You like them? Maybe they can go around your neck if you want me to" He smirks and kinda gets shy after sending that text with a photo attached. His sneakers would show in the background, his vascular hand and display with his signature bracelet and rings on his fingers.

"Hmm i would like that daddy" You feel heat in your ears. I mean, what if it was actually him? his hands looked really similar to the ones you have saved on your phone.

"I would love to do that, especially if you're wearing lacy underwear"

"Hm something like this?" You send him a photo, your lacy black bra without showing our face. You're laying down in bed and in the back you have posters of your favorite group, Stray Kids.

"Good, that's perfect" Chan replies and then goes back to the photo, analyzing your body, your curves and then, his phone drops to his lap. "Fuck she's a Stay omg no". He takes back his phone and nervously replies

"Baby girl I have to go back to the studio, I'll send you a little gift later."

Chan goes back, his face looks paler after what he realized. He opens the studio door, Jisung now sleeping in a different position and Changbin with headphones on.

"Bin, come here" He calls Changbin to get into the recording booth. The younger walks in and looks weird at Chan.

"Okay, what did you do?" Changbin crosses his buff arms in front of his body.

"Okay, fuck, I went out to sext a girl and... " Changbin smirks and Chan punches his arm. "Don't laugh idiot, okay so, she sent me a photo and..." He shows the part of the photo where a poster of Miroh was showing.

"hYUNG!" Changbin analyzes the photos as Chan grabs his head. "I mean, she's hot and probably cute so go ahead" Changbin returns the phone back to Chan and he realized it wasn't zoomed as before.

"Fuck Changbin that photo was for me" He punches the younger again and he starts whining.

"Okayyyyy sorry, but go ahead with it, keep it a secret and the most important..." Changbin grabs Chan's shoulder. "Have fun" He walks out while giggling and leaving Chan blushing like crazy inside the recording booth.

"Maybe sexting her despite she being a Stay is not a bad idea" He says to himself as he opens the app again.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I had a laugh writing this, hope you like it love💘 - J.One

pd: i was going through my notifications and im fangirling rn JSJDJAJD SORRY:(

Request are open 👀🔓💘

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secretsofthedarkestkind-arch · 4 years ago

Text

OTP/Romance Prompts: 1/? AKA Verse AU's @storieswrittcn

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you positive about that?" Lee asked almost in disbelief hearing the news her CI had just given her. The girl was never wrong when it came to tips for the detective; Lee paid too much money for her to ever risk being wrong. The confirmation had the brunette's feet slowing to a stop.

No harm list...global level...death to anyone who tried...Petrova crime family...

"Check your bank account in about an hour," Lee mutters lost in thought as she hangs up the phone still standing in one the hallways of NYPD. The SVU-- she'd been offered a spot in Organized Crime more than once but she always denied the transfer for personal reason's-- Detective's life had been chaos for the last month and a half. Ever since that day she'd decided to go into that bank before work.

The day had started like any other; oversleeping, rushing toward PD with traffic being horrible, calling Olivia Benson--her partner-- to tell her she'd be late, and desperately stopping for coffee to try and bring some form of sanity back to her (Really, Lee was sure her body held more caffeine than it did actual blood at this point). After paying for her coffee, Lee had realized she didn't have anymore cash on her, glancing across the street she'd found a branch of her bank. Why not grab some cash from the ATM? Her eldest brother Damon had drove it into her head growing up that it was always smart to have some cash on you. 'You never know when you're going to need it, when your card won't work or somewhere can only accept cash.'

So really what happened next was Damon's fault, it always was right?

As if to prove to Lee her day was not going to go smoothly, the ATM outside was out of order causing her to walk inside. She'd taken maybe less than twenty steps inside when the first gunshot had gone off and screams followed. Instinct had her ducking down for cover, one hand reaching for her cell phone while the other went to the gun holstered on her hip. Quickly, she'd sent out an SOS with her location to Olivia with three words attached; robbery inside gunpoint. Once that was taken care of, Lee glanced around the small counter to see just how many gunmen there were; five that she could see. She couldn't let anyone get hurt though, it wasn't in her nature.

Everything that happened next somewhat happened in a blur. The gunman had been getting everyone down, the leader at the main counter tossing bags to cashiers to fill with money, while another beside him tried to keep everyone calm; the usual of if everyone cooperates no one will get hurt, we just want the banks money not to hurt you. But the way his voice cracked told Lee that wasn't exactly true. So regardless of consequence she's stood up, badge in her hand.

Then her horrible day just got weird; the closest gunman had started to shake with fear, muttering a soft 'Oh Shit'. His eyes telling her that he almost seemed to recognize her. The next one's face paled as he looked at her and he stumbled a few steps back, signaling to get the other three's attention. Their reactions didn't fair much better. All five appeared to forget what they were doing, why they were here in the first place, and run out the door as if their pants had been on fire or Lee had been the Grimm Reaper himself. It didn't make sense--yes, she was a cop but that reaction, the way they almost recognized her? It didn't fit.

So after hours with Internal Affairs, questioning by Robbery and Organized Crime detectives---Lee had contacted her CI to try and get answers. It'd taken the girl a month to find them and another half a month to verify her information.

No harm list...global level...death to anyone who tried...Petrova crime family...

Petrova was a last name she hadn't heard since she was twenty-one, eight whole years ago. It was the reason she denied any transfer to Organized Crime. Katerina Petrova (as most of the world knew her Katherine Pierce) had been not just her childhood crush or high school sweetheart, but the love of her life; the one person she would truly love until the day she took her last breath. Lee's heart, soul, and body still belonged to the brunette all these years later. The detective blamed her lack of a love life on her work, but the true reason was she'd never wanted anyone but Katerina.

The two had grown up together, meeting in Kindergarten, and formed an unbreakable bonds. They'd been with each other through everything; Lee's horrible home life caused by her parents, Katerina's own home life complications being the daughter of mobsters, both never seemingly good enough or as good as their respective twins, their parent's deaths (Well, Lee's mother and both of Katerina's). By middle school they were a couple; possessive/territorial, protective, and madly in love. High school, they were each other's first everything. Katerina not hiding how her life was changing at the young age of sixteen; after her parent's death, she'd started the takeover of the Petrova Crime family while Elena got to play normal high schooler. When Katerina had dropped out, Lee had almost followed suit--planned to be right there at Katerina's side to help her no matter what it was or how dark her soul would become. But her girlfriend had stopped Lee from doing that, she wanted one of them to at least graduate and Lee to have a chance to go to the art school of her dreams.

Then Lee had graduated, plans of art school gone mainly because the Salvatore hadn't wanted to leave Katerina---by eighteen, she'd gained full control of her dead parents empire, caused it grow and was working on a plan of opening a business for cover; exotic dancing, with more than a few illegal activities inside. Lee hadn't batted an eye at the plan, her possessive and jealous nature that normally would have shown through didn't; all because she loved Katerina, trusted her, and knew the woman would never betray her--the small engagement ring on her finger proof of that.

But Lee had wanted to do something to help, anything to make her future wife's life easier. So she'd followed Stefan's example and applied for the academy, going in with the mindset to help those she could but also be as corrupt as needed to help Katerina. But then Katerina had switched up their plans, had made a choice of her own---she'd broken Lee's heart. There hadn't been a fight, hadn't been begging, Katerina hadn't given her that option. Katerina packed up her things and just left, gone before Lee had come home and nowhere to be found.

Lee had hunted, spent weeks out on the streets and going everywhere she could think the woman would have gone. She'd worked herself into a mess of a depression, anxiety, and malnutrition. What had stopped it was when Damon had committed her for her own safety. She'd spent half a year locked away to get herself back. And when she'd come out she'd never looked back. There was no hatred toward the woman she loves, no vendetta, or ill will. Lee had just moved on with the parts of her life she could.

------

Finding the address of one Katherine Pierce had been difficult, Lee had used every off the book resource she could (Lee may have kept the plan to be slightly corrupt in place) and it had taken almost all day to do so, but she'd done it. Lee had half the mind to stop by the woman's club, 'Katherine's' but the detective had ultimately decided that would be too public for this reunion and the topic they needed to discuss. So she'd waited. And really? Lee probably should have known the address she'd received would be where Katerina had bought. But it still surprised her. It was a large old plantation estate that the two had always dreamed of one day owning, their goal home for their future and however many children they could fill it with.

So she'd given Olivia the barest of explanations on where she was going, muttering something about needing to take the rest of the day off for personal reasons--same to Cragen the same line--and she's out the door.

Lee had parked her silver Jeep outside the closed gate and stepped out. Eyes taking in the property she hadn't driven by in almost a decade--she wonders briefly why Katerina had bought it, how she'd done it too. Sadly it seems she isn't going to be getting inside thought, unless she climbs the brick wall (which she's tempted to do). With a sigh she pulls her phone out to call her darkerweb tech guy, "Hey...I need you to get a cell phone number fo---" The words die on her lips though as she hears the engine of a rather luxurious Lamborghini as it pulls up toward the gates. "Nevermind." She's hanging up the phone as she turns to face the approaching car.

The Salvatore's nerves are high, hands slightly shaking but she's come this far, she won't let her nerves stop her now.

"Katerina," The Bulgarian accent rolling perfectly off her lips even after all these years, "We need to talk..."

#closed starter #storieswrittcn #v:tbd #tw murder #disordered eating tw #tw mental instability #tw mention of drugs #tw mention of violence #tw mental hospital #tw crime

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samiii-p · 3 years ago

Text

miss temptation (I don’t think you know) 1/?

aka The Maryan Roommate AU no one asked for 🙃 ao3

“You need a home address by next week or I’m writing you up.”

Fuck

Scratching an 'X' over another available apartment listing in the newspaper, Ryan grunts, blacking it out in her frustration. This one was her last true option within her price range and it was about the size of a walk-in closet with a communal bathroom to boot.

And no, just no. God no.

At least the last one had a view. It was a brick wall of the neighboring apartment but one nonetheless.

“You know for someone who needed this job, you sure don’t look the part.”

Sucking her teeth, Ryan glances up from her troubles, spots Luke in his custom three piece suit, grumbles and glances back at the paper where the only options left cost an arm and a leg to stay. Gotham wasn’t cheap by any stretch of the imagination, but selling her organs on a monthly basis just to get by didn’t seem all that appealing either.

“What do you want, Luke?”

“Can’t a guy just stop by?”

“Sure.” Ryan says, flipping the newspaper to the next page, maybe she could find something outside of town. The commute would be hell, but at least she’d have an address and her parole officer would finally get off her back. “I take it that’s not what you’re here for though.”

She hears him harrumph and nothing else. He does it a second later, again … and again.

“Okay, how can I help you?” She asks, sliding her current issues down the counter. Another 18 months in jail won’t hurt, let alone leaving the city in shambles when Batwoman disappears again .

Luke tilts his chin, hard line forming between his brows, a look Ryan has grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. Even though he’s apologized and promised to give her a chance until Kate’s return, there's still a tiny bit of friction lying beneath the surface no matter how much they both try to ignore it.

Reaching into his breast pocket he unearths a photo and slides it across the bar into Ryan’s line of vision. A picture of a black mask, outlined like a skeleton, stares up at her with cold hard eyes. In the corner a coiled snake is drawn with Luke’s handwriting underneath.

Snakebite - fear toxin/mushrooms

“Um, who or what am I looking at?”

He thumps the photo twice. “I was hoping you could tell me. You said you run in similar circles-”

“- ran.”

“As Victor Zsasz, I was hoping you could tell me a little about our friend here.”

“Sorry to tell you this but, no.” She pushes off the bar with a huff, nodding at the photo. “Whoever this person is, is new in town. At least to me.”

“Yeah, well his snakebite is hitting the streets like a plague and no one knows its source. There’s only this photo as a possible supplier but there’s no name, no facial recognition, no origin or leaks, no nothing.”

“So what do we do?”

“You suit up.”

Heat signature enabled, Ryan takes a look around the abandoned building noting two low level street hands Luke identifies as TJ Pillar: 1 to 3 strike for armed robbery and Curtis Armstrong: out on parole for possession.

“Come on, dude.”

She totally gets how uneasy it is to get back on your feet after spending a little over a year incarcerated but at least try to do better.

“What?” Luke asks through the coms, Ryan ignores him, scouting more of the building. It’s been over an hour and nothing. They wouldn’t be here if no one was coming but it’s growing closer to midnight and she has to be back at work at nine.

“Can’t I just bring them in? It’s late.”

“I mean you could, but it’ll be a waste of time. The guys on the street don’t know anything except to wait for the drop here.”

“And we couldn’t call in Gotham PD or the Crows for surveillance because..?”

“Hey, you wanted the job, this is what it entails.”

Behind the mask, Ryan’s eyes roll, mocking this is what the job entails meh meh, like she's a child grounded for the night, which, all things considered…

“Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“Okay! Okay!” Over the coms, Ryan hears hushed voices arguing, a muffled ‘no’ then the sound of chairs being switched, Luke’s voice replaced by Mary’s, “heeey, girl. How ya’ doing?”

She smirks, attitude vanishing the moment the heiress speaks. Call it a general preference to all things sans-Luke based but she’d one hundred present rather talk to Mary until the butt crack of dawn instead of Mr. Kate would do it like this and Kate would do it like that. For starters Mary’s a lot nicer. Calmer. Funnier, I mean the girl’s one liners are top tier, bone tickling funny.

And well, she was a hell of a lot prettier too.

“Oh, you know, just pulling an all-nighter right before my day shift.”

A hiss sounds dramatically over the intercoms, the image of Mary’s twisted face pops up and Ryan can almost see the apple of her cheeks bunching and her eyes closing in that cute ass scrunchy face she makes when she’s thinking hard or embarrassed clear as day.

“Don’t worry about it, you can always come in later.”

“You enable her by making exceptions.”

“Luke!”

“What!?”

More muffled noises, a bang and yelp later Mary comes back on. “What I was getting at is that if you want to come in a little bit late, it’s totally fine or we can even change your schedule to mid-day, as your boss and fellow bat accomplice, I would totally understand.”

The corner of Ryan lips quirks up, “you don’t have to do that.”

“I do. We don’t know for sure how long you’ll be out tonight. Coming in afterwards is going to be draining-”

“It’ll be draining for all of us.” Luke yells.

“Shh!”

Unfortunately, Luke has a point. It's not fair on the team if she’s the only one taking the easy way out when they all have lives and responsibilities outside of the cave to adhere to, and a mid-day shift would never work anyway. Mid-day is Officer Steven’s favorite time of day to intrude on Ryan’s life.

“No that’s okay,” Ryan says, “Luke’s right. I have to put on my big girl panties and suck it up like everyone else, besides, I’m going to be too busy selling body parts for an overpriced cardboard box in the foreseeable future or it's a one way ticket back to Black Gate-”

“Wait, what-?”

“Oh, hold up.” An engine alerts Ryan to an incoming vehicle speeding into the warehouse disrupting their conversation. “We got action.”

Censors pick up on a lone body inside, facial recognition scanners kick on and work to identify the driver’s profile as well as the car’s make, model design, vehicle number and license plate number are all shot over to home base for further analysis. She twitches them off once complete just in time to see a window roll down and a hand throw two duffle bags out the window before speeding off.

“Did we get anything?”

A beat passes before Mary’s back on, “Not yet. Gotham PD and the Crows database has no facial identification, Luke’s expanding the search but the car is unmarked, plates false, even the tires vin numbers have been scrubbed. Whoever this person is, really doesn’t want to be found.”

From Ryan’s personal experience, news like that is never good. Someone that deep undercover either has a checkbook large enough to make themselves disappear or an iron grip so ruthless the utter mention of their name is probable cause for permanent removal. This was going to be harder than any of them expected.

“Keep me posted.”

Kicking off the beam she leaps down sticking another perfect grand entrance; hoping the acclaimed symbol printed on her chest will be enough to scare off the bad guys for once.

She is really tired after all.

Unfortunately, Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dumb both reach for guns, shooting before she can warn them to stand down. And there goes her ‘early’ night. Figures.

“Ya’ll know I’m fucking bullet proof, right?”

Another bullet ricochets off the suit as she takes a step forward. Idiots. Surprisingly they keep at it until the clip clinks, empty, and Ryan comes face to face with Curtis who tries throwing a punch she easily ducks, coming back up to head butt him so hard his knees crumple. His coworker steps up and he’s a bit more of a challenge throwing blow for blow with her until she ducks up under him and comes back with a roundhouse kick to his Adams apple. He clutches his windpipe, now down on one knee she delivers the final blow to the bridge of his nose.

She picks up the bags and hightails it out of there, latching onto a high beam for an easy escape, and heads towards G.C.P.D where she drops the contraband with a note attached of where they can find the assailants tied up and ready for arrest.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re homeless!?”

Ryan wonders if disrupting her day as a civilian was going to become normal protocol for Luke and Mary going forward and on a recurring basis.

“I wouldn’t say homeless.”

“How else would you classify living out of your van down by the docks?”

“Surviving on wheels – ow!” Ryan giggles, rubbing her shoulder and doesn’t know whether to cower or soothe the frustrating scowl rapidly spreading across her friend’s face. “How’d you find out?”

“I had Luke track you after you left last night.”

“Wow, talk about invasion of privacy.”

“And for good reason, why didn’t you say anything?”

Ryan flips an empty glass, dries it out before placing it on the rack and considers how to move the conversation forward, possibly far, far away from this topic all together. The best she comes up with is, “it’s handled.”

Handled ends up being a 200 square feet one room apartment Mary demands to see. The bedroom, kitchen and living room are all one in the same but at least she has her own bathroom. The walls are paper thin, she’s pretty certain the constant dripping sound is coming from the kitchen, one she can easily fix after a YouTube tutorial or two, and a hotter than hell furnace the landlord warns her not to touch when the temperature is anywhere over 60 F unless she enjoys suffocating.

She watches Mary take in the room, the petite brunette moving in a slow swirl on her heels, lip turned down and Ryan just knows it’s not good when they make eye contact.

“Nu-uh.”

“What do you mean nu-uh?” Confused, Ryan watches Mary storm past her and out the door. “Mary! Mary, what does that mean? Mary!?”

Mary breaks her housing contract. When Ryan tries to object she quickly learns that all 5’2 of Mary Hamilton-Kane is nothing to play against and a powerhouse forced to be reckoned with.

… It kind of gets Ryan hot under the collar watching Mary tell her landlord exactly what’s about to happen, and cutting a check like it's nothing in the process.

Assertive has always kinda been her type.

“You’ll be staying here.”

Mary says, showing Ryan around her penthouse in the upper echelon of Gotham City. The apartment is just shy the size of a department store, the lounge being big enough to take up most of the square footage, built in with four bedrooms, one now officially hers, one for guests and another used for office space and three huge bathrooms big enough to house a football team.

“Jesus,” the name slips under her breath as she takes it all in. This place is – is. It’s too much. “I can’t afford this.”

The carpet under her feet probably cost more money than she'll ever see in her lifetime.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to pay anything.” Ryan quickly gets shut down as Mary carries on, “until you can save enough money to get back on your feet. It’s the least I can do. Being this city’s vigilante is hard work. The last thing you need to worry about is where you’re going to lay your head at night.”

It makes sense, but still. “I’m not comfortable asking you - I won’t use you.”

“You’re not.” The med student emphasizes. Mary takes the box out of her hands and places it on a dresser. “My home is yours now, bestie. Stay as long as you want to.” And before Ryan can prepare herself, Mary’s arms are snug around her waist and her cover girl smile is beaming up at her.

This is going to be terrible.

It’s worse.

Far worse than Ryan could have ever predicted. Not only is Mary super considerate of her new roommate, but she makes her resources Ryan’s own. She’s never slept so good, ate so well or drank water so delicious for that matter. Until recently she thought water was just water but Mary’s fridge is full of this alkaline stuff straight from the mountains, and Ryan swears she can never look back.

“You want pickles?”

Ryan visibly gulps, sitting on the couch, eyes focused on anything other than Mary prancing around the kitchen in her underwear. Mary’s always been super comfortable in her skin but especially at home when she’s surrounded by her things in her place of peace and why shouldn’t she be, this is her home. Ryan wants her to go about as she normally would, actually prefers if Mary pretended Ryan wasn't there altogether. The last thing she wants is to intrude or take up space but she can only take so much. It’s been nearly a month of coming home to Mary asking how her day was, waking up to Mary smiling at her over homemade breakfast or passing out on the couch cuddled together after another failed movie night. There’s only so much she can take.

What they’re doing is borderline domestic. And Ryan’s too gay for this.

“…pickles?”

“Hmm – what?”

“I asked if you want pickles on your sandwich?”

"Uh, sure."

Handing her a plate, Mary plops down on the couch leaving no space between the two and licks the pad of her thumb, humming pleasantly at the taste.

Ryan bites the inside of her cheek. “So, what are we watching?”

Hopefully something gory, and bloody staring a cis-het white male. Anything to take Ryan’s mind off of Mary Hamilton.

Mary chooses Its Okay Not to be Okay on Netflix and by the end of episode 2 both girls are huddled together, simping hard for all the three leading actors. Mary is obsessed with Kim Soo-Hyun's entire face and Ryan’s pretty sure if Seo Ye-Ji stomped on her in six inch heels and dragged her through the mud, she’d thank her.

At least they can agree Oh Jung-se is a freaking king and is killing his role as Moon Sang Tae.

It's nearly midnight before they start to turn in, cleaning up the little mess they made, Ryan shuts off the lights and walks Mary to her room; the first door to the right.

“Night.”

It kind of feels like a date, which is absurd. She knows. But can you blame her when pillow soft lips press against her cheek and Mary breathes, “sleep tight, Ryan” in her ear. Its stupid. She’s being stupid, and seeing things that arent there. Or maybe she needs to get laid. Whatever she needs to do, Mary can’t be a part of it.

After weeks of failed interrogations the team finally manages to catch a break. A source looking to get out and start over leaks the warehouse location where a scheduled supply of ingredients are due to be shipped in at any day now. Niko of course makes Batwoman promise to protect him at all cost and that means working with the Crows.

“Where’s the shipment being dropped?” Sophie asks.

“Unimportant.”

The lieutenant cocks her head to the side, unsurprised at how this conversation is going. The Bat has never worked well with authority in this town, no matter who dons the emblem.

“The only thing I need is for you to make sure Niko is somewhere safe, undetected.”

“Is he at least willing to stand trial in the event you manage to catch this guy?”

“I think that all depends on if your team can keep him alive. Crow.”

The alley is dark, damp and the chill fogs Sophie’s breath as she sighs. “You're going to get yourself killed. I know you have something against my badge and everything it stands for, but it can do some good if you let it. Now, tell me where the shipment is and I can have my team there as back up in seconds. We can get this drug and these thugs off the street.”

That word makes Ryan's jaw tingle. Thug. Of course a Crow wouldn't understand that sometimes people do bad things to make ends meet, but it doesn't make them bad people. To a Crow they’re all the same and need to be locked away never to see the light of day again. Including her.

“Focus on our informant. If I need you for anything else I know how to find you.” And she’s gone, vanished in a cloud of fog.

“Nice job pissing off potential allies.” Ryan switches her coms off.

The warehouse is guarded heavily by six men up top, double the number at the bottom not including the others unloading trucks full of supplies. Photo analysis identifies them and sends the information to Gotham P.D. before she strikes.

“Hope you’re ready for this. If we’re lucky this can all be over tonight.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Taking it as his cue, Luke hits the lights covering the warehouse in complete darkness. Motion sensors switch on and Batwoman moves into action. The training her team insists she go through pans out as she’s able to take out four guys twice her size in fast compact moves. One guy goes over the railing after she cracks him in the nuts with the steel toe of her boot. His strangled whimper is heard all the way down, but hey, no one ever said this was going to be a fair fight.

The team at the bottom catches on and gun fire immediately follows, running across the bridge Ryan spreads her arms and flies through the air, her red and black cape bellows behind her as she sticks another perfect superhero landing. All at once it seems like twenty people are coming at her from all different angles but as always she's quick on her feet tying a handful of them up by their ankles and running through the rest with a non lethal taser, just enough to subdue until she can contain everyone before she starts asking questions.

“We ain’t telling you shit!”

Another guy spits on her shoe, the red of his blood splattering against her boot and she rolls her eyes. There’s no need to be nasty.

“Look, I’m trying to help you guys out here.” Spotting a pair of boobs in the corner, she course corrects, “and girls - theys? Whatever! I’m trying to help you all out here. This thing,” she holds up a box of snakebite, “is killing the community and while it may bring you all brief satisfaction, financially, what’s it going to do for your futures when you get caught, to your families?”

“Who knew the new edition of the Bat came with such a bleeding heart?”

“Well, she does. So if anyone here is willing to tell me anything that’ll point me in the right direction of your boss, I promise I can protect you, get you somewhere safe.”

From the little the authorities have been able to dig up about this gang, anyone willing to betray their leader either winds up dead or living their last days in a vegetative state. That’s why it’s so important to have Niko, no matter the length it takes to protect him, it was for the sake of Gotham.

“I said-!”

“I heard you the first time,” Ryan says, cutting him off, “And I don’t know what you’re used to but I’m only going to tell you how this is played once. I ask the questions and you give me the answers, if you don’t, have fun rotting in jail or better yet … I can let the little I do know out onto the streets.” She bends down right in front of the man and lifts his rabbit mask, exposing his face. In seconds she knows his name. “I’m sure your boss would love to know who’s ratting him out, huh, Robert Michael Humprey?”

The terror in his eyes says it all.

#ryan wilder #mary hamilton #batwoman #maryan

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avpdvoidspace · 3 years ago

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hey you don’t have to answer but do you have any tips on how to avoid sh/c*****g with avpd ? i can’t focus on distractions when i have urges, holding ice/red marker makes it worse , taking a walk just makes me ruminate . it’s basically impossible to be kind to myself because of my really deep self hatred/inferiority complex . sorry for this ask lol

It might not really be adequate advice, but I can only really say what helped me to stop doing it (and I still do feel the urge to in moments of intense self hatred and frustration, but I'm able to resist it now).

The two things that allowed me to stop were moving away from my abusers and then also refusing to continue talking to anyone who leaves me feeling inferior (even if it's not on purpose). Actually accepting my need to just cut people out of my life and not seeing it as a failing and 'proof' that my PD makes me socially inferior really helped.

And then leaning heavily into compulsions/obsessions that don't hurt me or anyone else. For me this means having rigidly structured free time where I alternate through various tasks that are very engaging, challenging, and time consuming. (for me, this is drawing, reading, and studing languages. I have a whole weird little schedule for how I do these things) But I feel like that's a solution tailored very specifically to me, and I think that anyone who's going to stop doing it needs a specific solution that works for them... so it's important to really think about what you need to keep self hatred and feelings of inferiority to a minimum, and go hard on getting more of that into your life.

#avpd #avoidant personality disorder #self harm mention

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jikookandpenguins · 5 years ago

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Here goes nothing...

So because I’ve talked to several people privately and because I’m not only comfortable and entitled to speak my opinion, but I’m also okay with those who don’t agree with me, I’m going to give my thoughts on the V, RM, JH video and the sound in the background at the end. It’s sad that people are afraid to express their opinion. That’s what Tumblr is about. You don’t have to agree but you do have to disagree respectfully. I don’t accept anonymous asks so if you want to come at me you’ll have to put your account name out there and stand by your opinion just as I am doing. I would hope that nobody would choose to “come at me” and would either move along or respectfully disagree.

I realize there was a lot of shit last week about this, unnecessary drama, and I wouldn’t be bringing this up again except for the fact that we now have accurate translations of what RM said which in my opinion matters.

If you think it was a pop can (or 5) being opened, if you think it was Bang PD, staff, a manager, whoever, stop reading now because I’m not here to convince you or try and change your mind. I’m putting this out here because I think a lot of Jikook supporters got a ton of shit, which we usually do, and I think it was wrong.

Obviously if I’m discussing this it’s because I think it is Jikook in the background that we hear. I am a Jikook blog. I talk about Jikook. I am not a shipper, I am someone who supports their relationship. Now onto the video. By the way, I’m not a fancy blogger who links clips, but I think most people who will read this will have heard what I’m discussing.

First, I don’t hear anything that sounds like a pop can. I hear several kisses. Put headphones on and tell me that’s not kissing. The reactions of all three of them speak volumes. There was no shock as if they haven’t seen this before. It was looks of “Are you serious? Right now? Come on.”. Now I’ve seen people say it could be staff. I guess why I think that’s far-fetched is for a few reasons. Why would staff have their partner at their work, walk into the “lounge” where a meeting with three of the companies biggest idols is happening, live or not live? They would have heard their voices walking in the room, even outside the room, yet I’m supposed to believe they would then enter and begin kissing? Even after RM says cut and makes it unbelievably clear that they were taping, you still hear kissing. It doesn’t stop. We also know that their staff is always very professional, respectful, etc., and again, would they bring their partner to work and do that? If they did they’d likely be fired. Could it be a TXT member? It could be anyone, but do you really think any of those boys would do that? They are nervous as hell anytime they’re in the same room as BTS. I don’t think they’d walk into the lounge, meeting or no meeting, and do that. I don’t think they’d bring anyone to work with them. In fact, given how important secrecy is in the business, I bet there’s a rule on who can be in the building if they aren’t employed by BigHit. I also think the reaction would’ve been different by RM, V, and JH.

Now, onto what was said. If you haven’t seen the subs, I at least copied those for you to read. These are from Bangtan Subs who is the most known and is well respected for having accurate translations.

Here they are:

38:34 They all hear the first kiss and look towards the door and stare for 5 seconds.

38:39 RM “Yes, let’s end this already! It’s high time to end it already, others are here already.

38:42 V “Yeah.” RM bangs hand loudly on table

38:43 RM “Okay, this is the end of the first meeting.” and both he and V make the cut motion with their hands.

38:45 All three are looking towards the kissing.

38:46 RM loudly says “Cut!” and JH giggles

38:48 RM stands up, bangs hand on table again and says “Out of all this, something will probably work out, right?”. JH “I’m sure it will.”

38:51 JH “I’m sure it will.” and V stands up and says thank you and walks toward “them” and RM proceeds to turn the camera off.

So a few things that I think are important. The way the meeting, despite them winding up anyways, was immediately ended. It was just...odd. The cut motions by V and RM-would you tell someone whose opening cans of pop to cut? Would it really be necessary to say what he said, do the cut motions, etc. if it was someone other than Jikook? Like what’s the big deal? If it was staff or whoever else you can think of, I can see them acknowledging them and actually saying something to the people like “Hey, we’re just finishing up with a meeting” or one of them waving or saying one more minute or tell them they are taping. Something more professional I guess. Next, RM says “The others are here already”. Could he have meant they were in the building? Sure. But why would that be necessary to say if they’re just ending a meeting? IN MY OPINION he was referring to them being present right there. Maybe they were all meeting after the meeting we saw, who knows, but it’s odd for him to say that.

As for why I think it was Jimin and Jungkook...Yoongi and Jin aren’t going to be kissing someone right there and then. Not. gonna. happen. That doesn’t fit either one of their personalities. That leaves Jikook as far as “others” who would be there.

Because I believe that Jimin and Jungkook are in a relationship and have been for a few years now, I believe the members have obviously seen them kiss. This would be nothing new for them to see. This would explain their reaction but it would also explain why Jimin and Jungkook wouldn’t think twice about kissing in front of them. They lived with them for crying out loud. I can actually seeing them do something like this as a joke or as a way to make those three squirm.

I’m going to end this now. Those are my thoughts. Now, I’m going to take all of the power away from the haters and say this: Of course I have zero proof it was Jikook. I’m simply taking what I saw and heard and speculating. Let me say this again and be very clear, YOU DON’T HAVE TO AGREE WITH A SINGLE THING I SAID. It doesn’t matter to me if you do or you don’t. I did this because I’m tired of Jikook supporters being bullied into not expressing their opinions. I have an entire inbox with people feeling that way. All while there’s huge, hate filled Youtubers and Twitter accounts who think that not only is their opinion the only one that matters, but that it’s also always right. I don’t go to those accounts and tell them they’re full of shit. Don’t come to mine or other Jikook blogs, or in fact, anyone you don’t like and only intend on being an ass too. As much as I disagree with their motives and the fact that they are making money by creating drama and conflict, they have a right to their opinion. However, my opinion and your opinion are just as valid. I make my own decision to ignore the bullshit. I wish more people did the same.

I’m tired of the Jikook and Jikook supporters/shippers hate but what bothers me just as much, and some days much more, is the whiny Jikook people who are so weak and quick to buy into the rumors that are intentionally put out there to make you doubt. If you can’t just enjoy their relationship for what they show us then stop shipping/supporting them. You are only feeding into the ugliness and the antis who already hate them and us. Just stop. Jimin and Jungkook don’t deserve for that toxicity to be magnified. Also, if you can’t understand that the reason you don’t see or hear as much from them lately is because they had their tour cancelled, which decreases content, and we’re in the middle of a pandemic then I can’t help ya. Recognize that they are real people in real relationships, and in Jikook’s case, a long term relationship that has changed and grown. They are not going to behave the same way they did last year, two years ago, three years ago, etc. A healthy relationship changes and grows.

Lastly, to my fellow Jikook supporters who have a right to their opinion just as much as anyone else, stay strong, use your block button, don’t allow anonymous messages, take a break when you need to, and most of all, respect BUT ignore opinions of those you don’t value. If you still don’t feel comfortable then keep messaging me privately.

So there you have it. This is much longer than I expected. If you can’t disagree respectfully, move along because I won’t respond. I don’t have time for it.

P.S. It was so good to see them all today!!!

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ratedbangtann · 4 years ago

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Divided; KNJ

𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗕𝗶𝗴𝗛𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴; 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙬 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮? You just landed your dream job, fought through the audition process to be here when one Kim Namjoon takes an interest in you. Perhaps you let him get a little too close... And now, you’re in more trouble than you bargained for...

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairing Kim: Namjoon x Reader Warnings: Angst, graphic depictions of violence and distressing scenes. Word Count: 9.5k Please consider supporting me here: Tip Jar & Commissions ********************

Never, in your entire life, had you felt as loved as you did with Namjoon. Waking up next to him was the bliss, the peace you had been seeking for years.

You woke up entangled in a mess of limbs and sheets, laying on his bare chest much like you had been when you had fallen asleep. Looking up at him you smiled fondly at the light snores that left his mouth, hanging open a little. His hair looked completely dishevelled; whether that was from sleep or your hair pulling antics the night before, you couldn't be certain. But he just looked so peaceful.

The hand that lay across his chest started tracing patterns along the ridges of his muscles, feeling how soft and smooth the skin was. You noticed the light trail of hair from his bellybutton down to where the sheets covered his modesty; he wasn't a hairy man, just enough to sculpt some definition.

You hadn't even noticed that the snoring had stopped, and Namjoon's eyes were watching your fingers trace pictures into his skin. He didn't want to disturb you; perhaps this was the only time to relax you had had in a long time, he thought.

Until your eyes flickered back up to him, you weren't aware he had woken up.

"Oh... Sorry, did I wake you?" you whispered.

"I don't mind," he said with a smile, sleep making his voice groggy first thing in the morning. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in a long time," you blushed. He chuckled, wrapping his arms tightly around you and pulling you further up the bed to lay your head on his shoulder.

"I don't want to go to the studio today," he said firmly. "I want to lay here, with you, and do nothing."

"Well, good job I don't have to be in today then, hmm?"

"And suddenly, I've got a nasty tickle in my throat. I suppose I'll have to stay home." He grinned from ear to ear, his dimples sinking into his cheeks. You laughed, pulling the sheets up over your shoulder to cover you.

Breakfast was an interesting event; everybody in the dorm was suspiciously quiet, but you would catch them sharing little glances with each other, or smirking at one another. You didn't feel uncomfortable just... a little wary?

Namjoon had made you both toast while the others pottered around the kitchen grabbing something to eat and sitting at the table with you. All apart from Jimin, of course, who was still showering.

"We're gonna have to get you some essentials if you're staying here for a while," Namjoon said, crunching another mouthful of toast. Taehyung and Jungkook looked at each other - another one of those looks - and snickered. You narrowed your eyes at them, wondering what was so funny about that.

"Hey, Joon-hyung; you left me all alone last night. I was hoping we could cuddle," Jungkook whined, pouting dramatically. Taehyung couldn't stop his laughter beside him.

"Sorry Kookie, my cuddles were needed elsewhere," Namjoon retorted, crumbs flying past his lips. And again, Taehyung and Jungkook looked at each other and laughed. The others smiled at each other, annoyingly sharing the same thought.

Before you could question them, Jimin walked down the hall fully dressed but still towelling his hair dry with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Ah, y/n, Namjoon! Good moooorning," he sang.

"Good morning..." you replied, hesitant and suspicious.

"Don't you look sprightly today, hmm? Good sleep?"

"Yes, thanks," Namjoon deadpanned, ignoring the shit-eating grin carved into his cheeks.

"I should think so. You must have been exhausted after uh... well, y'know," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. And then you realised.

They had all heard you. You and Namjoon, when you had... They were laughing at you both.

Your face changed colour almost instantly, a red hue painting your cheeks as your eyes widened. The others couldn't keep it in any longer, the laughter consuming the room and Namjoon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, fighting a smile himself.

You hid your face in his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around yours, rubbing your arm with reassurance.

"Don't worry, y/n. Sounded like Namjoon did a good job. You should be proud of him!" Jimin teased. Namjoon threw his slipper at the younger, hitting him in the chest. "Namjoon-aaahhhh!" he whined, sitting down in the empty seat at the opposite end of the table.

"Eat your granola, Jimin," Yoongi scolded playfully, smirking. Jimin pouted, pouring himself a bowl.

The others decided to take the day off themselves too; by this stage in their career, they were allowed to every so often; provided it really was just once every so often. Before you had joined them for breakfast, they had all discussed it, wanting to spend the day making you feel better and hopefully coming up with a plan...

After a shower and some clean clothes - Namjoon's again - you had sat with them in the living room, talking about possible solutions.

"I need some kind of proof; that's the biggest problem. I don't have any..." you sighed.

"There's CCTV in the halls of BigHit; would they have caught him dragging you to the elevator?" Yoongi asked.

"Maybe... But, that's not sufficient proof of long-term abuse," Jin was right, it wasn't enough.

"Is it enough to go to Bang PD-nim for help getting a restraining order?" asked Tae, hopeful.

"No, we're not going to him. If he took it the wrong way, y/n could be out of a job," Namjoon said sternly.

This was useless, you were going around in circles.

"Can we please just hire a hitman?" Yoongi said, a little venom lacing his tone. He was getting frustrated too. He hated knowing his friend was in trouble, being bullied by a pathetic excuse of a man.

"Waste of money, I'll do it myself," Jungkook mumbled, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back into the couch.

"I know you're kind of joking but... please don't," you said weakly, fiddling with your hands. You hated the thought of any more violence, especially from such wonderful men.

"Sorry, y/n..." Jungkook apologised. A moment of silence passed as everyone thought once again.

"We could google it? 'How to catch a domestic abuser'?" Hoseok suggested. You flinched at the words.

Domestic abuser...

You'd never thought of Sangjun as that, never labelled him as one. But hearing it from Hoseok's mouth, you now realised that was absolutely what he was.

Any other time, you may have laughed at Hoseok's suggestion but you were getting desperate and frankly, it seemed like a good shout.

"Let me go get my laptop; left it in my car last night," Namjoon stood up, grabbing his keys from the hooks by the front door and heading down to the parking lot to grab the bag he had left in his car in a rage last night.

He opened the passenger door, grabbing the strap and slinging it over his shoulder when he heard something drop to the floor by his feet. When he looked, he saw the stupid little dash cam that had fallen off the windshield when he's punched the wheel.

He sighed, picking it up and crawling into the car to stick it back up, but again, it wouldn't stick.

"Useless," he muttered, giving up.

And then, he had an idea...

A horrible, terrible idea, but an idea nonetheless.

When he joined you again, you could see a look of anguish settled on his face. Something was wrong.

"Joonie?" you turned on the couch to look at him stood there, the rest of the guys following suit.

"You said you needed proof, right?" he asked, his tone full of regret and despair.

"Yeah..?"

"I think I know how to get some..." He held up the little dash cam he had tried to stick back in his car. He didn't have to say anything to tell you what he was thinking.

You could plant it, in your apartment. Somewhere Sangjun wouldn't notice it. You could catch him in the act; one assault would be enough to show the police, enough to get a conviction.

"That's brilliant, Joonie!" You seemed happier than you perhaps should be, naive to the reasons Namjoon was so brokenhearted about his idea.

"But... it means you'd have to go through it again. One last time..." You heard the sadness in his voice, the gravity of the proposal weighing heavy on you now. You'd have to let Sangjun beat you again. You'd have to get hurt again.

"No. No, we can't put her in that position again Joon, are you mad?" Jin stood up, angry at his brother that he'd suggest such a thing.

"Do you think I want to see her hurt, Seokjin?!" he yelled, losing his temper. "Do you have any other suggestions? Because I sure as hell don't!"

Jin stayed quiet. Logically, he knew this would work. You all did. But everyone was hesitant to admit it.

"...I'll do it," you squeaked. One last time, for a lifetime of freedom and a possible conviction; worth it. You'd taken it for so long, you could take it one last time.

"It'll be kept under control, though," said Yoongi. It confused you.

"What do you mean?"

"We'll be outside. Waiting. We'll give you a word, you'll yell it at the top of your lungs when it gets too much, if he goes too far. We'll barge in, take him down, get you and the camera out." He was so matter-of-fact, military even. No emotion, just straight talking.

"That's a good idea," Hobi praised, "that way you have control. When you think you have enough evidence you can call to us. We'll just pull him off you and get you out."

"It works..." you pondered, thinking it over. "I'll have to go back home eventually. When I do, he'll be mad... I'll need to plant the camera while he's out. He goes to the gym every day between three and five, then he comes to pick me up from work. But I don't know if his routine will change now; he doesn't know where I am, he could still be out looking for me."

"We'll watch the apartment... see if he's home, see when he leaves. But he knows my car..." Namjoon said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Doesn't know mine though. I'll watch him," Jungkook offered.

"When are we doing this?" asked Tae. Well, the longer you left it, the worse his mood will be; the worse the damage will be. He'd already be livid that you disappeared yesterday, this was time sensitive. With every passing second, Sangjun would only let his anger bubble and fester away, growing and growing...

"Today," you said confidently.

The others were stunned into silence. How could you be so willing to surrender yourself to such a horrific ordeal yet again? So soon?

"A-are you sure, sweetheart?" Joon asked, hushed and leaning over the back of the couch, taking your hands in his. "We don't need to rush this, we can take our time to really go through it and-"

"Actually, we do need to rush this..." you gripped onto his hands, looking up into his wide eyes that were so full of dread. "I just want to be free, Joonie..." you whispered.

Namjoon looked down at your hands in his, running his thumbs along the backs of yours and fighting back the tears. He couldn't bare the thought of you getting hurt again, couldn't bare the idea that you were so willing to get hurt again for your freedom.

"Today it is," he agreed, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a sweet kiss to it. "You'll be free, soon..."

****************

Sat in the backseat of Jungkook's car - far fancier than Namjoon's - you couldn't sit still. You were terrified. Namjoon sat with you, Jin on your other side and Hoseok in the front. The others were waiting in Tae's car just a couple of blocks away.

Having switched your mobile phone on before you left the dorm, you had seen the 134 missed calls and 249 messages from Sangjun. Progressively, the texts became angrier and angrier...

Why weren't you at work?

Met your boyfriend. Where the fuck are you?

y/n, answer my calls.

Stupid girl. Get home, or I will drag you home myself.

Stop being stupid. Where the fuck are you?

ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE. NOW.

You'll regret this.

That last one sent a chill down your spine that made every hair stand to attention.

All of this was simply more evidence stacking up over and over. You took screenshots fo the messages and the call receipts and sent them to Namjoon for back up, in case something were to happen to your phone. You were trying to think of every eventuality.

"There he is," Jungkook broke the still quiet, shuffling in his seat to get a good look as you all watched Sangjun exit your apartment building and get into his car parked out front with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He drove off down the road, turning the corner to head off to his workout. He'd be gone for an hour at least.

"Let's go," Namjoon took hold of your hand, pulling you out of the car and towards your apartment.

Inside, he helped you to set up the camera, hiding it in the bookcase next to the television in the living room. You changed out of your borrowed clothes into something of your own, handing Namjoon's back to him. It wouldn't do to have Sangjun get even more angry, seeing you in another man's clothing.

As Namjoon was about to leave, to hide back in the car until Sangjun made it home, he turned to you with a look on his face you couldn't quite read.

"What are you going to yell through the door? When it gets too much, I mean..." he asked, shuffling his feet and looking everywhere but at you.

"I'll just call to you, so... Namjoon," you shrugged. Your hands trembled with fear and you twiddled your thumbs. He nodded.

"We'll be waiting, okay?" he cupped your cheek with one hand, standing a little closer to you.

"Uh-huh," you agreed.

"I'm sorry we have to do this..." his voice broke, cracking under the weight of his regret.

"It's the only way..." you sighed.

He closed the distance between you, pressing a kiss to your lips so softly you almost couldn't be sure he had done it. At least, until he pressed a little firmer. You returned the gesture, both of you needed the moment of tenderness before the oncoming storm you knew was about to happen.

"You're so, so brave..." he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Someone once told me bravery was just another form of stupidity," you chuckled.

"Not at all. You're the bravest, but also the smartest woman I have ever met."

A moment passed, just enjoying being close to one another until you knew he needed to leave soon in order to get in position.

"You'd better go," you said reluctantly, pushing at his chest until he took a step back. He turned towards the front door, opening it up and looking back at you with one final glance.

"I love you, y/n."

"I know," you smiled. "I love you too."

And with that, he left you alone with the little dash cam rolling and recording everything...

An overwhelming feeling of dread lingered over you as you sat on the couch, waiting... You watched the clock constantly, knowing he would return around 5pm. It was 4:49pm now, and a sickness bubbled in your gut at the thought of what was to come.

You pulled the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands, the anxiety bringing chills to your skin and shivers to your spine.

It'll be over soon, you assured yourself. He'll be stopped. This is going to work.

It had to. This was your only hope, your only conceivable attempt to get out of this hell. Namjoon and his brothers were waiting, they would save you. Just a little more pain, a little more agony...

4:57pm; the sound of a key in the lock made your heart rate elevate to that of a hummingbird; this was it. You heard it shut softly and footsteps in the hall, heading to where you sat. And then they paused in the doorway.

"Y/n..." His voice sent a violent electric shock through your body, but... he didn't sound angry.

This was always worse; when he started out calm. He would always be more violent, terrifyingly so.

You turned your head to look at him, like a scared little girl getting scolded by her headmaster in his office.

"Oh my god, y/n..." he dropped his gym bag to the floor and ran to you, enveloping you in a tight hug and lifting you from the couch as he did so. Your body didn't react, simply staying limp in his arms, hands by your sides in a state of shock that he didn't immediately smack you to the floor when he saw you.

He put you down, holding onto your shoulders and rubbing his hands up and down them, searching your face for signs of any trauma or terror.

"Where were you? You had me worried sick! I went to pick you up from work and you weren't there!" he cried, worry in his tone. You looked up at him, bewildered. Why was he so worried? Why wasn't he beating the shit out of you like you had expected?

This wasn't going to plan. At all.

"I-I was just..." you stuttered, trying to think of something to say.

"You know what? It doesn't matter... I'm just glad you're okay, you're safe!" he pulled you in for another hug, crushing you to his chest but still, never hurting you. Not once.

****************

Outside, Namjoon waited. As soon as he had seen Sangjun walk into the apartment complex, he had signalled the others in Tae's car with a text message, and waited a few minutes for him to get up the first few flights of stairs before exiting the vehicles and following after him.

At the front door, Namjoon could hear everything, every word being said. The others were with him, crowding around the front door to eavesdrop.

He heard the concern in Sangjun's voice, confusing him.

"Why is he acting like that?" Taehyung whispered, voice the thoughts of every one of them. Namjoon's brow creased, overthinking.

Inside, Sangjun acted like a normal, caring boyfriend.

"Do you need anything? Something to eat? Drink? Do you wanna watch a movie?" he fussed over you, sitting you back down on the couch and crouching in front of you.

"She said he'd be angry, what the hell is he doing?" Jimin whispered.

"Wh-what if... what if she was..?" Hoseok began, but he stopped himself. The thought was too horrendous.

"What?" Namjoon whisper-shouted, still never raising his voice enough for you or Sangjun to hear from inside.

"What if she made it up?" replied Hoseok.

"No, she wouldn't..." Namjoon shook his head violently, returning to his position to eavesdrop and ignoring the idea completely. He couldn't entertain the idea that you had lied. He knew you hadn't been honest with him in the beginning, but surely you wouldn't like about this... Would you?

The niggling doubt in the back of his head was quickly silenced by Seokjin speaking the sense he needed to hear.

"You didn't see her, Hoseok. You didn't see the bruises, or watch him drag her through the halls at the studios. Don't you dare question her right now," Seokjin whispered, scorning the younger. He couldn't help getting mad at him for questioning you after what he had seen. Something was wrong, that was for sure, but it most certainly had nothing to do with you fabricating your history of abuse.

****************

Inside, Sangjun was making tea; the most mundane activity you could imagine.

"How many sugars, babe?" he called to you.

"J-just two..." you stammered, feeling more anxious now than you had before he came home. What was going on? Why was he now so concerned for you? Why was he making you bloody tea?!

But what you didn't know, was Sangjun was being clever.

He hadn't seen the camera; it was well hidden. He hadn't seen the boys; they were meticulously quiet.

But he had seen the fancy cars in the neighbourhood as he came home. He had seen the black Bentley around the block that belonged to Tae. He had seen the black Mercedes across the street that belonged to Jungkook. They looked out of place, and he recognised them from the parking garage at BigHit. He knew those license plates, those fancy models...

Sangjun wasn't stupid.

He sat down on the couch with the tea, handing you a mug.

"Do you want to talk about what happened? Where you were?" he asked, feigning concern and innocence. You shook your head no, unable to think of a lie quick enough. You were too busy figuring out what the hell he was playing at.

He was acting so normal; more normal that he had for weeks. And you'd just be MIA for 24 hours...

Your brain ticked over until finally, you realised what was happening. He knew they were waiting for him.

You didn't know if he'd seen them out of the corner of his eye on the stairs of spotted them in their cars but he knew; he had to. He was acting to get them to doubt you...

You had to do something; you had to make the switch in his head flip. You had to make him so angry, he couldn't help himself.

"A-actually, I... I need to tell you the truth. About where I was last night..." you started, your breathing shaky but you knew you had to do this. It was your only shot.

"Hmm? Okay, baby.. what happened?" he asked, placing his tea down on the little side table next to the couch.

"I-I... I stayed with BTS," you lowered your head, scared to look up at him. He was quiet though, simply taking in a long, deep breath.

"Okay... So you stayed with your friends; that's fine," he smiled through his words, but had you looked up you would have seen the anger in his eyes. You would have noticed the smile that didn't quite sit right on his face.

"Y-yeah I did but," you took a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you told him the truth, "I slept in Namjoon's bed. With him."

The more you confessed, the harder Sangjun found it to keep his cool.

"Did you fuck him?" he spat, clenching his fists and staring at you with such harsh eyes you felt the gaze burning into you without looking up at him.

One last truth to push him over the edge...

"Yes."

****************

From outside, the boys listened intently.

"What's happening?" asked Yoongi, from the back of the group.

"She's... I think something is wrong, he's making tea?" Jungkook whispered back. "Why isn't he going mad?"

Namjoon ticked over everything in his head; did he know something was wrong? No, not possible. Right?

"The cars..." Namjoon gasped, leaning back from the door with wide eyes.

"Joon?" Tae saw the look on his face; pure dread.

"He saw the fucking cars... He knows we're here," he whispered to them with anger, frustrated that they overlooked that detail. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. Of course a Mercedes and a fucking Bentley were going to be noticed in a neighbourhood like this...

"Shh!" Jungkook hushed them, his ear pressed to the door. "She's telling him the truth..."

"What?" Namjoon snapped his head to look at Jungkook.

"She's provoking him," he deadpanned.

There was a moment of silence before all seven of the boys heard a loud smash, like pottery smashing against the floor.

Namjoon tensed immediately, the overwhelming urge to break the door in already to save his princess already becoming too much. he fought against it, knowing he needed to trust you, knowing he needed to wait. You needed the evidence; he understood that.

But the array of noises he could hear through the door were building and worsening, so startlingly distressing that he turned to Jin and Hobi with glassy eyes and grit teeth, the tendons in his neck straining fiercly.

"Stop me, hyungs... Don't let me in until she calls..." he begged.

****************

You had confessed. You had told him you slept with Namjoon.

And much like a seismic shift in the earth's tectonic plates causes a volcanic eruption, your confession made Sangjun explode.

Immediately he was on you, knocking the mug out of your hand and ignoring it as it smashed to the floor, spilling tea across the laminate dramatically. He lunged for you, fisting your sweater in both hands up pulling you up to stand in front of him.

"I knew it. I knew you fucked him, you dirty little SLUT!" he screamed, throwing you to the floor amongst the mess. Tea soaked through your jeans and the shards of pottery stuck into your side, luckily not sharp enough to cut.

Sangjun immediately sat over you, holding you to the floor by your shoulders. You saw him retract his hand quickly and before you had time to register it came hurtling towards you face, smacking you across your already bruised cheek. You cried out, a stinging sensation burning through your face.

You didn't have time to compose yourself before the next slap; a backhand to the other cheek. He clipped your nose though, a sharp pain rushing through the centre of your face like it had been cracked open. Blood began to pour out of it as he gripped onto your collar, pulling you up and thrusting you against the wall near the entrance to the hallway.

You tried to push him off, tried kicking his knees to make him buckle but he was wise to your tricks and dodged every single hit you tried to land.

Instead he landed another hit to your face; this time his entire fist slammed into your jaw. You cried out again, wounded and in absolute agony as your whole face felt like it was throbbing.

Blood dripped from your nose, down your face and to your sweater, coating your lips in the strong iron taste that filled your mouth. Whatever he had done to your nose, it was bad. You were almost 100% sure it was broken.

He landed a few more punches to various parts of your body; one to the left shoulder, one to the ribs, one to your stomach. You lost your breath, your diaphragm going into spasm and unable to get the oxygen you needed into your body.

Without the breath you needed you couldn't think straight, couldn't even fathom the idea of screaming to Namjoon let alone actually forcing your vocal chords to work. All you could do was struggle for air and cry out incoherent noises inbetween.

"Where is he now, huh? He's here, isn't he? I saw the fucking cars outside, y/n. DO YOU THINK I'M FUCKING STUPID?" he screamed, landing another punch to your gut. "WHO IS HERE? YOU THINK THEY'LL SAVE YOU, HUH? YOU'RE MINE, Y/N. MINE AND MINE ALONE!"

He wrapped his hands in your hair, pulling it by the roots and dragging you out into the hall.

****************

"She can't breathe, hyung... Listen to her!" Jungkook panicked, hearing your winded state on the other side of the door.

Namjoon stared at the door with his hands tearing his own hair out at the roots, panic in his eyes.

You hadn't called to him yet... That was the plan. When you called, they'd break in. But could you even attempt to if you couldn't breathe?

He battled with himself, his head scrambling through an inner monologue at twice the normal speed to try and draw up a conclusion as to whether he should just get the hell in there right now, or not.

"We need to get in there, Namjoon..." Jin had his hand on Namjoon's shoulder, trying to talk some sense to him but he just kept thinking; she hasn't called, she hasn't called... She needs the footage, she hasn't called yet...

If only he had known you had more than enough footage to go off by now.

All of the boys heard Sangjun screaming at you; they heard him claim you as his, heard him scream of his knowledge that they were there. They all looked at each other, eyes darting between them but before anyone could react they heard a loud and unmistakable thud on the other side of the door.

The front door shook, like something had collided with it. Jungkook fell back from his crouched position, falling at Namjoon's feet. A few more little thuds hit the door from the other side, and the sound of strained breath was once again the most alarming noise they could hear through the wood.

****************

More pain, radiating from the top of your head right to the base of your spine as Sangjun threw you up against the front door by your hair. He let go of the strands and pushed his hands up against your throat, pushing his leg between your knees and pressing himself up against you tightly. You had no wiggle room, no way to get away.

His eyes stared into yours, pupils blown out and rage coursing through them. Slowly, the fingers around your throat started to tighten, like a boa constrictor tightens itself around it's prey, taking its time...

You felt every pad of his fingertips, every tendon in every digit at it pushed the pressure onto your windpipe, cutting off the airway and leaving you breathless once again.

You squirmed and hit out, hitting your fists against his chest. You couldn't look away from his eyes, like when you see a spider across the room and watch it in case it moves.

Namjoon is on the other side of the door, you thought. They all are...

If you didn't get their attention now, Sangjun could easily render you unconscious. Or worse...

But with his hands so tight around your throat you couldn't scream, you couldn't even whisper; there was no air in your lungs to be able to make a sound.

You stopped struggling against Sangjun, instead hitting out and kicking against the flat surface you were pushed up against. You used all the strength you had left in you thump and pound on the door, hoping to get their attention.

Please, please get in here...

****************

Namjoon heard you pounding on the door, struggling for breath. They all did.

"Shit, get IN THERE!" Yoongi yelled.

Namjoon pushed against the door with his shoulder, trying to force it open to no avail. It was going to take more than that to get past a large wooden door, your body weight and Sangjun's strength.

"FUCKING HELP ME!" Namjoon yelled to the others. Jungkook scrambled to his feet, Jin and Hoseok readying themselves to help. They stepped back, the four of them gearing up to break it down.

"One, two, THREE!" Jungkook yelled, and all four of them threw themselves at the door in an assemblage of shoulders and feet using their power to get in. It wasn't enough.

"AGAIN!" Namjoon yelled. They stepped back in unison. "One, two, THREE!" They hurtled towards the door again.

"Keep going, you'll get there!" Jimin yelled, wishing he could help but knowing there wasn't enough room for another person to get in and push.

"He's right on the other side, he's stopping us!" Hoseok yelled as they all stepped back again, ready to throw themselves at it again.

"NOTHING IS GONNA FUCKING STOP ME GETTING IN THERE! ONE, TWO, THREE!" Namjoon screamed, the boys colliding with the wood again. This time they heard a faint crack.

"The hinges are coming off, Joon!" Yoongi yelled, "Keep going!"

The four stood back again, a little further this time, and rushed headlong into the door. Another crack, this time louder. Namjoon could now visibly see the wood splintering by the hinges.

"ONE MORE! LET'S GO! ONE, TWO, THREE!" One final run up, and the door broke of its hinges.

With you still on the other side, it didn't fall down immediately. Sangjun's strength managed to keep it relatively upright but his grip on your throat faltered and you fell to the floor, just as white spots had started to appear in your vision.

Namjoon immediately pushed his way through the gap between the oddly angled door - now off its hinges - and the wall. His hands reached for Sangjun, grabbing his shirt and pinning him to the wall with as much force as he had in him, Sangjun's head hitting the plasterboard of the wall. The remnants of the door hit the wall opposite, leaning against it while Namjoon held Sangjun in place.

"FUCKING ANIMAL," he screamed, landing a vicious right hook to Sangjun's jaw. "YOU'RE SICK, SICK IN THE FUCKING HEAD," he shook him by the collar, followed by another right hook.

Jungkook and Yoongi moved the door out of the way and pushed past Namjoon and Sangjun, coming to your side to assess your state. You lay on your front, face down on the floor covered in a puddle of your own blood and spluttering, oxygen finding its way back into your lungs after being starved for almost too long.

Seokjin and Hoseok rushed to Namjoon's side, Hoseok holding onto Sangjun and Seokjin holding Joon's arms behind his back, doing everything he could to stop him from knocking the asshole out.

As much as Jin thought Sangjun absolutely deserved it, he couldn't see his brother going down for assault and battery.

"Namjoon, hey! HEY! Cool it!" Jin yelled, pulling Namjoon back. He struggled against him, anger ripping through him. The pathetic little man in front of him needed to learn his lesson, needed to know how it felt to be beat down to a fucking pulp.

On the floor, Yoongi rolled you onto your side, Jungkook helping him to pull you up into a sitting position against the far wall of the hall. Your eyes had swollen so much, you could barely see past the blur of tears leaking from the agony your body was feeling.

Your head lolled forward, chin resting on your chest as more blood dripped from your nose to your lap. You still struggled to breathe, the punches to your gut and your ribs making you feel like you were being stabbed with every breath.

"Jimin, call an ambulance! Tae, the police!" Yoongi yelled back to them. Both pulled their phones out immediately, dialling the emergency services.

"I'll go wait outside, stay on the phone Jimin," Tae instructed, running for the steps and hastily making his way down them to wait for the first batch of help to arrive.

Amongst the chaos, Namjoon was still fighting against Jin, trying to lay into Sangjun some more. He had seen red, he was screaming at him; never had Namjoon lost his tempter like this and honestly, Jin was a little scared of him. He knew he would never turn on any of the boys, but he wasn't sure just how much strength he had in him with the adrenaline and pure fury pumping through his veins.

Yoongi did his best by your side, lifting your chin to look at your swollen and bloodied face and checking your breathing, your pulse, everything... just making sure you were okay, that you were still alive. Jimin had found his way inside, passing instructions from the paramedics to Yoongi next to him.

Jungkook looked on in fear, watching Namjoon fighting against Jin to get past Hobi and wrap his hands around Sangjun's damn throat.

"Namjoon-hyung! NAMJOON! StOP!" he yelled, nothing working to calm the chaos.

Through your blurred vision you could only see shapes, violently moving in front of you. You could hardly hear anything, your head clouded with concussion; you felt like you were watching from underwater.

"J-Joon..ie..." you choked, trying your best to speak, to get his attention. You needed to calm him, you didn't care about yourself right now. Your damage had been done, but Namjoon could do so much more...

He heard you, his head finally snapping to look at your broken and beaten body laying up against the wall. He saw your beautiful face, swollen and bloodied and the way your body fell limp with exhaustion and suffering.

He stopped fighting immediately, letting Jin pull him a few feet from where Hobi was restraining Sangjun - who by this stage, had given up trying to get away. Jin let Namjoon go, watching as he fell to his knees by your side, holding your hand in both of his and planting soft little kisses to your knuckles as you sat there, broken.

"I'm here, I'm here... I'm so sorry, y/n. I'm here," he repeated, over and over again. Guilt welled up inside him; you should have been his first thought when he burst through the door, but instead it was your revenge he had craved. He let anger cloud his mind and he lost control.

Jungkook went to help Hobi, cornering Sangjun so he couldn't attempt to run. He had given up though; police had been called, the jig was up.

It took a few minutes for paramedics to arrive, and a little longer for police. You were immediately heaved onto a stretcher and wheeled out to the parking lot outside where an ambulance and police cars were ready and waiting.

Namjoon held your hand the whole time, from the moment you were on that stretcher, down to the parking lot and inside the ambulance as you were checked over at the scene. He refused to leave you alone.

Statements were taken from each of the boys, and Sangjun arrested and shoved into the back of a cop car. Each of the boys made sure to tell the cops about the camera you had hidden to catch the evidence of his abuse, affirming the truth.

It was over. After four years of absolute hell, of agony and terror... you were free. ****************

Hospitals had never been you favourite place on earth, but waking up in one surrounded by beeping monitors and brilliant white lights was - for a change - totally welcome. You didn't mind the annoying, monotonous noises you could hear; they were almost comforting.

As you had opened your eyes, you could only see the bland tiles of the ceiling above you but after a moment of consciousness, you felt the dull ache all over your body, radiating from your face. You winced, trying to sit up in the uncomfortable bed but you arms were too weak to push you up.

"Hey, no... stay put. Hold on," a voice said from beside you. And then you heard a mechanical whirring, and you were slowly sitting up as the bed rose. You turned your head slightly to the side to see Yoongi, sat in the chair beside you with the controls for your bed's mechanics in his hand. "Hey," he said simply, a soft smile on his features.

"Y-Yoongi..." you croaked, your throat strained and dry from the lack of moisture.

"Oh, here..." he picked up a bottle of water from beside the chair, unscrewing the cap and standing by your side you pour a little into your mouth for you. Immediately, the dry burn in your throat was extinguished. "How are you feeling?"

You weren't sure how to answer that, having just woken up, but you didn't feel good; you knew that.

"Hurts," you mumbled, your face aching with the movement of every muscle in your cheeks. There was something attached to your face, covering your nose that muffled everything you tried to say. You raised a hand to touch it, feeling the cold metal brace that was attached to you to hold your nose in place.

"Want a run down of your injuries?" Yoongi asked cautiously. You nodded, bracing yourself for the worst. "Okay, your left eye socket is cracked slightly... Your nose was pretty smashed up, they had to reconstruct it; hence the brace holding it in place now. Two of your ribs are cracked, your lungs were in shock but have since stabilised and you had a pretty bad concussion. Other than that, just bruises..."

Wow, that was... better than you expected. But now you understood the agony in the centre of your face and the ache in your torso.

You noticed the drip attached to your hand too.

"To keep you hydrated, while you were out," Yoongi noticed your eyes following the tubes.

"Where's Namjoon?" you asked.

"Probably asleep in the waiting room with Jin. It's..." he checked the time on his phone, shoving it back into his back pocket, "around 3am. You've been out for almost two days, with surgeries and stuff..."

"Why are you up so late?" you questioned, your face stinging as your creased your brow. You let out a little wince of pain.

"Night owl," he said simply, smirking. "I told Joon I'd wake him if you woke up."

"Oh, no, let him sleep..."

"No can do, my sweet. He'd murder me if I did," he reached for your hand, giving it a comforting and light squeeze, before turning to exit the little room you were bundled into.

Alone with your thoughts for a moment, you let your mind run over what you could remember from the other day.

You remember Sangjun losing his temper, being thrown around... You remember him shoving you against the front door and hearing Jungkook's panic at realising you were being held by your throat. You remember a crash and falling to the floor, but not much else. Only being checked over in the back of an ambulance and whisked off to hospital.

You couldn't be sure if Sangjun was arrested, or if the police had got the footage you had caught. You prayed they had...

The door clicked open and Namjoon's sleepy face poked through the gap, puffy eyes searching for you. You raised your hand off the bed a little, waving meekly.

"Hey," he pushed the door open further, his voice laced with sleep and shut it behind him, coming to drag the chair closer to your bedside to sit with his hands enveloping yours. "How are you feeling?" he asked, concerned.

You sighed internally. You were going to get that question a lot, weren't you? In fact, there would be a lot of questions thrown your way very soon...

"I feel like I was hit by a car," you groaned.

"Yoongi-hyung has gone to find a nurse, try and get you some morphine to numb it," he reassured.

A moment of silence passed by as Namjoon scanned your body from head to toe. He'd seen the state you were in plenty over the last couple of days but seeing you awake and wincing in pain with every small movement hit different. He hadn't known what to expect, and he knew it wouldn't be good, but he couldn't help feeling so incredibly guilty for how things played out.

"I should've got in sooner... I shouldn't have waited, I-"

"Namjoon," you squeezed his hand, stopping him. "You did what you could, it's okay. You got to me when I needed you, that's what matters."

"Yeah but-"

"No... No buts," you silenced him again, watching as he looked down at the floor in shame. Another silence settled over you, the big question on the tip of your tongue. But you were so afraid of the answer, so terrified that you had gone through all of this for nothing.

But you had to ask.

"D-did he... Was he arrested, Joon?" Your voice trembled, your bottom lip quaking.

"Yeah, at the scene. Not before I laid into him a little, mind... He's in custody. The police want to talk to you," he spoke so softly; it was so comforting to you, just having him there.

"The camera?"

"Yoongi-hyung gave it to the police. They have the footage, so he's been convicted. The police just want your statement and background; how long he's been doing it, what he's done etc. They need to compile a list of other charges for court."

Your shoulders relaxed, releasing tension you didn't know you had been holding until then. Another wave of pain flooded through you as you did, and you winced aloud yet again.

"Forgot about court..." you sighed.

"You'll only need to see him once more. And then he's gone, for good." Joon ran his thumb over the back of your hand comfortingly. "He'll be in custody until then. No one is willing to pay his bail."

"No, his family don't speak to him."

"Figures," Joon muttered. "There's maybe something you should know..." he mumbled, fiddling with the drawstrings on his hoodie. You waited, looking at him nervously. "The press got wind of the story. Local journalists caught the incident on the police scanner and came to the scene to see what had happened. You and I had already left in the ambulance but they saw the others giving statements to the police. Bang PD was forced to release a statement..."

Your heart sank. This was how your career was going to start; the career you worked so hard for... And Bang PD knew. Was he mad at you?

"So Bang PD knows everything..."

"We had no choice... But hey, it's okay. He's not angry you kept it from him; he gets it. He's hired the best lawyers and is spending all his time looking into Sangjun's background. He's protective of his own, y/n. We're a family," he reassured. "And actually, he's been very supportive of... well, if we were to... y'know..." he trailed off, not knowing what your relationship was at this point or wanting to ask you; this was not the time nor the place.

"Joonie, I told you I loved you. I mean that," you said, squeezing his hand a little. He looked up, eyes hopeful and smiled shyly.

"Well, once all this is over with... maybe I can take you on a date? A real one. We can..."

"Be together," you finished his sentence for him, sensing his shyness. "I'd like that..." His smile grew again, dimples turning into craters the moon would be jealous of.

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. A nurse wondered in, a cart in tow and Yoongi following in behind, shutting the door.

"Hi sweetie, good to see you awake," the nurse smiled sweetly. She was a pretty young thing, very petite and friendly. "You must be in some pain, so I'm gonna change your drip over for a solution with morphine in, keep it to a minimum," she explained everything as she did it, changing the tube to fix onto the new bag and strapping it to the mechanism next to your bed.

"Give it around 20 minutes, you won't feel it anymore. If you do or there's anything you need at all; food, a drink, there's a call button right here," she pointed to the little red button on the remote Yoongi had left by your side, smiled at you again, and wheeled the cart out, leaving you with Namjoon and Yoongi.

"Did Joon tell you that..?"

"Yeah, he's in custody. Thank you Yoongi; for giving them the footage," you smiled, noticing how awkward he looked with his hands shoved into his pockets and his foot kicking the floor.

"He was amazing, y/n. He took care of you, when I was... well, too preoccupied with beating the life out of him... He did everything the paramedics told him to, knew exactly what to do when we got inside," Joon explained, smiling fondly at his friend. Yoongi scratched the back of his neck, smiling awkwardly.

"Did what I had to," he mumbled.

"Thank you," you smiled. "To all of you. You may well have saved my life," your throat constricted as you swallowed down tears, your face stinging and aching with the force.

"Don't you ever thank us, y/n. You don't need to," Namjoon ran his fingers through your hair and brought your hand up to his lips, pressing soft little kisses to your knuckles.

****************

"Byun Sangjun, you entered a plea of not guilty for the charges against you," the judge began in the courtroom. You sat nervously in the stands with Namjoon and the boys one side of you, and Bang PD on the other side. Namjoon had been right when he said he was supportive. Work went out the window; he focused solely on your recovery - which was going well; bruises yellowing and swelling going down, but bones still extremely tender and healing - and getting as much evidence against Sangjun as possible.

He even found you an apartment close to the boys' dorm complex, which Namjoon had been staying in with you on the sly on the nights you hadn't spent at the dorm. You couldn't bare to be alone; not until Sangjun was behind bars for good.

Sangjun stood in the docks, hands cuffed together in front of him and a vacant look on his face. He looked tired, his cheeks sagged and eyes puffy. Any other person, you'd have felt sorry for. Not for this monster.

Namjoon held your hand in his tightly, jaw clenched as he stared at Sangjun with a fire burning in his eyes. He couldn't look at the man without wanting to beat him into the ground. Your fingers shook in his, fiddling with a little thread hanging from the sleeve of your shirt. You waited patiently, knee bouncing.

The judge continued.

"Therefore, with the evidence against you and the victim and witness testimonies, I have no choice but to come to a conclusion based on the facts presented in my court room today.

"The court has seen the vile footage of abuse recorded during the most recent incident and based on other testimonies and Ms. y/l/n's medical records, we have no choice but to find you guilty of not only repeated domestic violence, but one count of attempted murder for the monstrous attack weeks prior to today. Therefore, this court sentences you to twelve years in prison, with a minimum serve of 10. Dismissed." The judge banged his gavel, and stood to leave the court room.

In your bench, the boys all seemed to let out a long breath of relief at the same time, Namjoon turning to you and enveloping you in a hug. You sat very still, the realisation still not sinking in. You couldn't take your eyes of Sangjun, who was now being escorted out of the court room by officers to his holding cell before transferring to whatever hell-hole prison he was assigned to.

Just as he reached the door, he looked back at you with an expression you couldn't read. Was it...defeat? It almost felt like he was trying to tell you, 'okay, you got me. Fair enough'.

An officer shoved his shoulder roughly, nudging him through the door. That was the last time you would see his face, and the relief that washed over you felt incredible.

You turned to Namjoon, burying your head in his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head, holding you as you started to sob and the rest of the courtroom filed out.

"Shh, hey... It's over now. He's gone," he whispered into your hair.

Bang PD turned to you, his hand on your shoulder. You couldn't believe how sweet he had been throughout the weeks following the incident. You reached your hand to his and squeezed appreciatively.

"Thank you, sir," you whimpered, lifting your head to look at him. His expression was so soft that you felt guilty for ever having doubted he would kick you to the curb or be mad at you for any of this. Never could a man as sweet as him do that to anyone in their time of need. Especially one of his own.

"Pleasure is mine, y/n. Your future is yours now," he smiled, glad to see you out of this hell with the closure you rightfully deserved. You nodded, smiling genuine happiness with tears seeping down your cheeks.

Namjoon led you out of the courthouse with his arm around your shoulder, Bang PD on your other side and the boys trailing behind you.

A flurry of reporters were waiting by the courthouse steps, rushing to you as soon as you appeared. Of course the local reports of a woman attacked had grown into international headlines when they realised BTS were involved somehow.

Bang PD's statement was very matter-of-fact and clear that you - BigHit's new trainee - had been trapped in an abusive relationship for years and the boys had figured something was wrong, rushing to your aid to find you being attacked viciously. That was the official story. Of course they didn't know that they had planned the rescue, or that Namjoon and you were technically together; some things were better left unsaid.

Bang PD had needed to release a second statement when rumours started about Namjoon and you; he simply said you and he were close as friends and colleagues for the moment, as he was your 'producer'. But he had slid into it that if a relationship were to blossom between any of his idols in the future, he welcomed it warmly. You had found that so sweet.

Cameras flashed in your face and you cowered against Namjoon, Seokjin rushing to your side too to dispel rumours of a relationship yet again. You gripped onto him knowingly, having become accustomed to not favouring Namjoon in public. The others crowded you, offering their support also. Bang PD stepped forward, ready to address the press who quietened down, holding audio recorders in his face and clicking their cameras.

"Justice was served here today, and we as a company - a family - at BigHit are elated that our beloved trainee, y/n, is now safe. We would now like to move forward and focus on the wonderful talent that exudes from her as an artist and bring her the career she has worked so hard to obtain. Thank you," he bowed respectfully, keeping it short and sweet.

The chorus of reporters snapped their pictures of you with the boys and Bang PD as you made your way to the two waiting cars, finally leaving this horrific chapter of your life behind.

****************

Six months had passed, time healing the wounds on your body and slowly, the wounds on your soul too. You had gone back to work a few weeks after court, insisting you were ready to pour your heart into your debut.

Songs were finished in a matter of weeks now that you were free to work whenever you wanted, for how ever long you want. Choreography was created for your songs, which after the majority of your wounds had healed, you started to learn day in, day out. Music videos and concepts were created, centring around the idea of rebirth; fitting.

And now, you were stood backstage at MNet, waiting for your chance to debut on national television. The buzz surrounding you and your debut was of course heightened by the unfortunate events of your time as a trainee, but surprisingly it had worked in your favour. People were so interested in who you were, to see how you could come back from such a horrific ordeal.

Namjoon had watched your proudly in the run up to your debut. He had, in fact, become like a producer to you; spending his spare time working so hard on your music with you. His name was in the credits to your songs, on albums ready to be shipped out to stores at 6pm KST. But besides that, he had been your rock; there for you when PTSD woke you in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, trembling. There for you when you needed to vent, to let out your frustrations. There for you when you needed someone to take care of you, cook for you or just to hold you.

And yes, the two of you had become an item in the meantime. God, how you loved him. You adored the ground he walked on, and he the air you breathed. It was no longer a secret, more statements being released to inform fans of your relationship a month prior to your debut. The overwhelming reaction was positive - of course there were some nasty comments, but no boycotting and certainly not enough anger to create a stir.

So now, as you stood at the side of the stage at MNet, you gave a little wave to the love fo your life sat in the sound booth above the audience, looking down at you. He grinned and waved back, excited to see you finally debut.

While he had heard the songs, you refused to let him know anything else about your music. He was as much in the dark about your concept and choreography as the fans were. He had been practically giddy that morning, the other boys mimicking his excitement. They all appeared in the sound booth window too, waving excitedly. You giggled, waiting for the stage director to usher you out to begin the filming.

When the time came, you danced and sang your little heart out, perfectly in time with the music and the rest of your dancers and sounding like you had swallowed the CD. The fans ate it up, already having created an official fan-chant for you and screaming support at you when you ended the first cut. You filmed the song three times over from different angles to make sure they had all the footage they needed, and the fan's buzz never dampened.

Your song had brought Namjoon to tears in the booth, so proud of his baby girl for getting to this stage after everything you had been through. He was watching you live your dream, reliving his own debut and so immensely proud of you; he couldn't help the happiness leaking from his eyes.

You recorded the takes of your second song too after a costume and set change, and once again the fans ate it up. You had never felt so encouraged, so worthy in your life. They were happier for you than you could fathom, loving the girl who had been through so much and yet came out on top, like this.

You were a ray of hope, a beacon of belief that no matter what the hell you have been through, it does not define you, and it will not control you. And you were absolutely certain that this would be your message going forward; you would continue to spread that for as long as your career lasted.

No matter what the hell you have been through, it does not define you and it will not control you.

Fin. **************** Part One | Part Two | Part Three A/N ~ Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this fic, please let me know. You can find my other work in my masterlist below, and if you’d like to leave a tip or commission your own fic from me, the link it also below. Masterlist Tip Jar & Commissions

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years ago

Text

Mysterious Fathoms Below

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 10: Peril in Portland

Their cross country trip so far was a rousing success. They had hit many lakes and beaches along the way and the morning after they arrived in Portland, Snow and David took them to a secluded beach they had found a couple hours from the city. It was their first time seeing the Pacific ocean and they were all very excited. After spending the day together as a family, they headed back to Portland and to a park that was near the office David would be working.

Snow kissed him tenderly, as they prepared to say goodbye for a while.

"Go on...we'll be fine, but we'll miss you," Snow assured him.

"I'll miss you too," he said, as he hugged the kids and headed for the office. Snow sat back down with her book, while the kids ran around the park and Emma joined her.

"Hey Mom...can I go get some snacks for me and the squirts?" Emma asked. Snow noticed that there was a convenience store down the block and nodded.

"Okay...but be careful and try to get more than just sugar laden stuff," Snow said, as she handed her some money and shifted the baby in her lap. Emma smiled and headed down the block, while her brothers and sisters continued to play. Jackson whimpered a little and she dug his teething ring out of his back.

"Oh that tooth is giving you trouble, isn't it baby," she cooed, as he watched onto the teething ring.

"Hey Mom...shouldn't Emmy be back by now?" Ben asked. He was right and she started to get concerned.

"Go round up the twins and Astrid. We can all walk down there together," she said. Ben did as she asked and she put Jackson and Astrid in the double stroller, as they left the park together.

Emma browsed the snack aisle and put a few things in her basket. She smiled, as she picked out some gummy bears. Astrid loved gummy bears. She looked ahead and noticed a boy stuffing a box of pop-tarts in his jacket. He turned and saw that she saw what he was doing, but they were both stunned.

"Bae?" she asked in disbelief.

"Emma...how are you here?" he asked.

"Nevermind that...I'll get that for you," she replied, as she grabbed the box from him.

"You don't have to do that," he insisted.

"Do you have any idea how long me and my family have been looking for you?" she asked.

"Why?" he asked, as she picked up a few other things and waited, as she paid for them. Once she took the sack, they exited the store and she handed him the box. He tore open a package and started eating hungrily.

"Because...we thought of you as family and wanted to help you," Emma replied.

"No...you want me to go back to Storybrooke with you and to my Dad!" he cried.

"Would that be so bad?" she asked.

"Yes! Do you know what he did?" he asked.

"Yes...we have the book, remember?" she replied.

"He abandoned me!" Neal insisted.

"And then made sure the curse happened so he could find you," Emma replied.

"And ruined a bunch of people's lives in the process!" he cried.

"But he told my parents that he knew he made a mistake! I mean, doesn't he deserve a second chance?" Emma asked. He was about to retort when two men approached them.

"Not a peep there lass and start moving," the man said, as he showed her a gun in his coat.

"You too, young man," the other man said, as he also showed his weapon.

"Who the hell are you two?" Neal asked.

"Keep walking, boy...or you'll get lead poisoning," Jasper hissed.

"Emma!" Snow called, as she approached with the kids. Horace smirked.

"Well...you've made this really easy for us," he said, as he grabbed Ben by the arm and held a firm hand on him.

"You'll follow along with all the brats, beautiful or I'll pick a few of them off," he threatened.

"Excuse me?" Snow asked dangerously.

"Do it...or I rip that necklace off your pretty neck and all of Portland will know your secret," he warned. She gasped, wondering how he could know, so she followed them, afraid they would make good on their threat or hurt one of her children.

Once they arrived at an abandoned dock, they were all tied up, except for the little ones, who were frightened by now.

"Shut that brat up!" Jasper snapped, as she did her best to soothe him, even with tied hands.

"He's frightened...lower your voice!" Snow snapped, as Horace looked through her phone.

"Okay...we're going to call the hubby now and then the Madam will be along to meet her catch," Horace said.

"Who is the Madam?" Neal asked.

"Nevermind kid...you're not a part of the plan, but since you seem important to blondie here, you're still alive. But that can change," Horace threatened, as he dialed David and put the phone to Snow's ear.

~*~

David looked through the documents that Cleo had collected.

"So...Neal Cassidy. He jumped a huge bail in Phoenix and now he's been spotted here in Portland?" he asked. Cleo nodded.

"Both the Phoenix PD and Portland PD are clamoring over who gets him. Phoenix wants him for stealing twenty grand in pricey watches. Here in Portland, it's petty stuff mostly, so Phoenix hired us. Either way, we get the payday and their district attorneys can fight over who gets to prosecute," she answered. David squinted, as he looked at the grainy photo of the culprit.

"This is the best photo they have?" he asked. She nodded.

"He's young...but he's good. Knows where all the cameras are and how to avoid them," she replied.

"Okay...well, if he's sticking to petty stuff, we should canvas the convenience stores and the grocery stores," he said.

"Agreed," she replied, as they prepared to head out when he got a call on his cell phone.

"David!" Snow cried, before someone else was speaking.

"She's a lovely lass...a spitfire too," a man said in what sounded like a British accent.

"Who the hell are you and where is my wife?" he demanded to know.

"My name isn't important, mate...but I am enjoying the company of your lovely woman and your noisy brats. Six is quite a brood...but then I guess I wouldn't be able to control myself with a fetch like her," the man said.

"If you touch one hair on her head or any of my children…" he growled.

"You're not in the position to make threats...Mr. Nolan and you'd do yourself well to hold your tongue. I know your secrets, mate. I've seen the...tails and I have the proof," he said. David went pale at that and swallowed thickly.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Come to the Highland Docks tonight at nine pm...it's an old defunct dock on the east side of the city. No cops...or me and my partner will have some fun with your gorgeous wife, if you get my drift," he said.

"I'll be there...but touch them and I'll be your worst nightmare," David warned, as he hung up the phone.

"What's going on?" Cleo asked.

"Someone has S...Margaret and the kids. They want me to come to the Highland docks tonight. No cops or they're going to hurt them," David replied.

"For what? Why would they take your family?" she asked. David didn't know who they were, but he knew that they had somehow seen them in their other form.

"I don't know...but I have to go," he replied.

"I'm going with you," she insisted. He was about to protest, but she put her hands up.

"David...I know you and your wife have secrets. I've been an investigator for a long time. Whatever it is...it's safe with me," she assured him. He sighed.

"Okay...but you'll have to believe it to see it," he said, as he put his jacket on. She got hers and they headed out. Their search for Neal Cassidy would have to wait...or so they thought.

~*~

Snow had finally gotten the little ones to quiet down and she glared at their captors, before turning her attention to Emma and Baelfire.

"We've been looking for you for a long time, Bae," she whispered.

"So Emma told me...but you shouldn't have," he replied.

"We care about you, sweetheart...and I know that your father did some really terrible things. But he does love you," Snow said. He opened his mouth to retort, but she put her hand up to stop him.

"Hear me out," she requested and he remained silent.

"Before David and I had kids, I wouldn't have understood what he had done, because I would have sworn that I wouldn't have done anything remotely close to the things he had done, even for a child," she said, pausing for a moment.

"But then I became a mother and David became a father and that completely changed. I would do anything for my children...and I mean anything if I had to, even bad things, I'm afraid. When it comes to our kids, we would act in the moment and think about our actions later. It's just what a parent does and it makes us very imperfect," she continued.

"And someday, you'll understand that. And maybe, just maybe you'll be ready to give him a second chance then," Snow said, giving him something to think about.

"Right this way, Madam," Horace said and she stiffened at that, as she could hear the clicking of high heels on the floor.

"Well, well...long time no see, Snow White," the woman said and the raven haired beauty was shocked to see the woman before them.

"Mom...do you know her?" Ben asked.

"Mummy huh? My, my, that gorgeous husband of yours has been busy," she purred.

"Cruella De Vil…" Snow said, spitting the name in disgust.

"In the flesh...or fur, rather," she said, as she ran her hands over the monstrosity she was wearing.

"Do you like it? It's my newest purchase," she said, referring to the black and white mink coat she was wearing.

"Why...or how are you here?" Snow demanded to know.

"I could ask you the same thing...though I think I'm about to find out," she said, as she looked at Horace.

"Show me," she requested, as the man advanced on her. She shied away, but he ripped her necklace off.

"No!" she cried, as there was a poof and her legs became a brilliant white mermaid tale.

"So...that's how you and chisel chin escaped the curse," she realized, as she admired her tale.

"A curse?" she asked. Snow glared at her.

"At first…" she answered.

"Ah...then you saw the value in this magic. Tell me though, how did you get your hubby cursed with this?" she asked.

"Our story is none of your business, but if you must know, Charming found me even though I was cursed and had no voice," Snow replied indignantly.

"Yeah and Daddy gave Mommy true love's kiss!" Rose added and then got shy, as the woman's eyes raked toward her.

"Then why do you still have a tail?" Cruella asked.

"Because the Pink fairy told us that we could use true love's kiss to restore me to my human form...or she could use the reverse and make Charming like me...make us both this way. I thought by doing that and escaping that Regina would give up on her revenge," Snow replied. Cruella snorted.

"Well, she didn't," she said.

"I know...how did you escape the curse?" Snow asked curiously. Cruella smirked.

"I have my ways," she said, as Jasper suddenly hit the ground, unconscious.

"Oh good...it's about to get interesting. Come out, dahling...and careful with your movements. I have everything important to you in grave peril," she called. David emerged from the shadows.

"Ooohhh...you are certainly a treat for the eyes," she gushed.

"Cruella?" he asked in disbelief.

"The one and only," she replied.

"What do you want?" he demanded to know.

"Well...as someone who has found a family of mermaids, I could make a fortune, while the lot of you would end up in some circus somewhere," she replied.

"You're going to sell us?" Emma asked in horror. Cruella cackled, as Cleo emerged beside David, her eyes wide at what she was seeing.

"Your wife…" she uttered.

"Yeah…" David said. While he knew it was overwhelming information for Cleo, he had a feeling he could still trust her.

"Just let my family go! You're not making any money off us," he said.

"No...actually that's not why I need you anyway. But if you'd like to keep them breathing, you will all board this yacht with me and take me to Storybrooke," Cruella replied.

"You want to go to Storybrooke?" Snow asked.

"Yes...mummy is in a bit of trouble, you see. The man I married in this land is dripping with money, but he was just indicted by the Feds for fraud and if I don't escape, I'll be going to prison too. But in Storybrooke...I'll be safe," she replied.

"You're worse than Regina...why would we lead you right to Storybrooke?" David asked. Cruella smirked and Horace cocked the gun in his hand.

"Because if you don't...my associate is going to make a terrible mess out of your beloved wife," Cruella threatened. David put his hands up and Cleo did as well. Jasper, who was coming around, frisked them both and confiscated their handguns.

"Now...shall we be on our way? It's a smooth ride on my husband's yacht and it has all the amenities," Cruella said.

"I can't walk without my necklace," Snow replied. Cruella motioned to David.

"No funny business or bullets fly," she said. He picked her and the baby up in his arms and they shared a torn look. He carried them onto the ship, while their children, Baelfire, and Cleo were taken hostage as well. It would be a long trip to Maine and there was no telling what havoc Cruella would unleash on a cursed, unsuspecting Storybrooke...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #AU #Mermaid AU #romance #adventure #family #drama #Mysterious Fathoms Below

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