#AND I WANT TO SHAKE THEM THROUGH MY COMPUTER SCREEN TO TELL THEM THAT ID KILL TO BE THEIR FRIEND IRL

[strangetheskeleton]

No one is wondering why I'm on Tumblr but this is still the main reason why

This number especially goes out to people with cool ocs (everyone's ocs are cool)

[watcheraurora]

Enemy — An Imaginary Deepfrost AMV

Hi. I'm brainrotting so hard for a Deepfrost animatic/AMV set to Enemy by Imagine Dragons. Specifically the one without rap because I like the ID bridge more (both thematically for Deepfrost and also because I just harbor distaste for most rap in general) so, uh... I wrote it out again, since I can't draw very well or animate

—

The first bam of the music is Deepfrost's eyes opening, glowing pale blue, with black sclera. The next bam is him looking to his left, our right. On "Look out for yourself," his face is obscured by swarming shadows.

"I wake up to the sounds of the silence that allows" shows him sitting up on his cot in his hideout, the dark, cold basement under the abandoned arcade, blond and green-eyed, and run his hand through his hair. He gets out from under the blanket to reveal his under armor leggings and fluffy socks

"For my mind to run around with my ear up to the ground" is him sitting at his hideout computer (with three monitors) and open multiple security camera feeds. One of them is the division. The shot zooms in on it a little

"I'm searching to behold the stories that are told" cross dissolves to Deepfrost out in the field, blue-haired and -eyed, alone, standing opposite Sheriff who is reaching out one hand, the other iced to a wall: You could come back—rehabilitation is always an option on his mouth. Deepfrost wipes his bleeding mouth on the back of his hand

"When my back is to the world that was smiling when I turned" Deepfrost turns away, the hopeful smile dropping off Sheriff's face.

The screen swims to a memory—obviously-younger Deepfrost standing opposite Lore and Arctic Fox. Arctic Fox has a hand on Deepfrost's shoulder, smiling behind his face mask and giving him a little shake of the shoulder in appreciation while Deepfrost smiles as the lyrics say, "Tell you you're the greatest"

"But once you turn, they hate us..." Deepfrost turns away as Arctic Fox releases his shoulder, and the screen shows him change from hero to in-between to villain proper in three cuts as he turns his back on Fox and Lore, hood going from down to up and smile disappearing as he walks toward a shadow on the side of the screen, where Impulse, GeminiSlay, Blood Moon, and Poultry Man linger as silhouettes against the shadow, and Arctic Fox's face turns sad but Lore's becomes angry and hateful toward Deepfrost's retreating back as he goes from teenage hero to adult villain.

The bam right before the chorus is a flash of the first time Deepfrost uses the Sonic Shriek against Doc, concentrated on the rings of blue from the sonic blast

"Oh the misery" cuts to Deepfrost dead-stopping a chop from Sheriff on a column of ice that splinters from the force of Sheriff's strength

"Everybody wants to be my enemyyy-Y!" continues the scene as Deepfrost replies with an attack of his own

The next bam is his own attack being blocked by Sheriff

"Spare the sympathy—everybody wants to be—my enemy" is a quick cut to a similar fight, but between Arctic Fox and Deepfrost, still hand-to-hand that continues, clearly showing Arctic Fox winning, getting Deepfrost's arms wrangled behind him until the first "Look out for yourself" where a flare of jagged ice bursts from Deepfrost's hands between him and Arctic Fox, forcing Fox to release him, and he skates away while the "my enemy—look out for yourself" continues, ending with Deepfrost alone and escaped

The shot pans in tight to his face and his eyes look up to the camera, icy blue but full of fight as the song says "But I'm ready"

"Your words up on the wall as you're praying for my fall" shows Lore and Sheriff talking, Deepfrost on security footage on the computer monitor between the two of them

"And the laughter in the halls and the names that I've been called" zooms in hard on the monitor to cut to a memory (slightly desaturated colors) of teenage Deepfrost smiling as he trains at hand-to-hand with Arctic Fox and then jump cuts to him as he argues with Lore, a little older but still obviously young

"I stack it in my mind, and I'm waiting for the time" cuts back to present-day Deepfrost zipping into his body armor, hefting his coat onto his shoulders, and flipping up his hood

The shot flips quick to him standing alone in a plaza, arms out to either side of him from the elbows like he's challenging someone as the lyrics go, "When I show you what it's like to be words spit in a mic" and as the crescendo turns into a near-scream, a swarm of darkness twists and twines out of his body, consuming the screen

"Tell you you're the greatest" jumps to him standing in front of the other villains, looking straight ahead while they're all prepped for a fight

"But once you turn they hate us" shows the main roster of the division directly facing off against them

At the little "hah" of the vocals in the song, Deepfrost's mouth quirks up into his lopsided, self-satisfied, wicked, playful, devious, smug little smirk

He hurls a burst of white-blue energy across the distance toward the heroes on the first bam of the music that explodes into a shattering of icicles on "oh the misery"

"Everybody wants to be my enemy" is the other villains engaging with the heroes, running, flying, and leaping past him while he takes a step back to do his work from a distance.

"Spare the sympathy—everybody wants to be my enemy" is his angry expression as he does his work in the fight and draws Sheriff right in, keeping himself safe on "look out for yourself!" with a shield of ice blocking one of HoTGuY's arrows from hitting him from a different direction, not even looking at where it came from or where the shield was going, just flinging a hand

The fight continues, the other heroes and villains in the background, Sheriff and Deepfrost in the foreground, showing Deepfrost gaining ground in the fight and at the second "Look out for yourself!" he rips Sheriff's whip from his hands and tosses it away

"They say 'pray it away'" cuts to a brief desaturated shot of teenage Deepfrost with his arms crossed in an armchair, getting lectured by Joel

"I swear that I'll never be a saint, no way" jumps to still-desaturated Deepfrost and Joel fighting—hurling lightning and ice at one another with fury in both of their faces, Deepfrost winning, but only just barely

"A chair in the corner is my place I stay" shows hero Deepfrost lingering at the back of a division meeting with his arms crossed, sitting in the corner, not looking impressed with whatever Joel is presenting on at the front of the room

"I shake and I think about the powers at play, the powers at play" is Deepfrost actually shaking, watching cops descend on a protest in riot gear, baring his teeth in frustration and running to go try and help the protestors, still desaturated

"And the kids in the dark that were doomed from the start" cuts to Deepfrost and Lore fighting again, but now in a dome of darkness where Deepfrost is in full color, eyes glowing and sclera black, but Lore is just a silhouette

The fight continues through "The child in the basement, face to the pavement" including Deepfrost getting slammed down onto the ground and leaping back to his feet

"Oh what a statement, love is embracement, love is a constant, love is a basis" shows Deepfrost stumbling into Skizz's apartment, nose bleeding, blue fading back to blond and green as he sobs and falls into Skizz's arms, who just holds him there. He drops a bundle that is his suit and coat and shakes his head

"He cannot be" shows Deepfrost, Impulse, and Poultry Man all standing together

"She cannot be" shows GeminiSlay and Blood Moon back-to-back, weapons drawn

"They cannot be changed" shows the entire villain crew of the city in a shot that pulls out

"But keep on praying" is Deepfrost sweeping to the front and center, a wicked smile forming on his face

"Goodbye" cloaks the villains in a bubble of darkness

"Oh the misery!" returns and with every heavy beat, the villains are shown destroying a whole bank of factories along the river. Fire, explosions, bursts of ice, a winged silhouette swooping over all of it, accompanied by arrows of light and arcs of an energy sword, one factory crashing down after another while the chorus repeats

Intercut briefly with Lore getting an alert on his screen that shows the villains wrecking carnage on the factories and hitting an emergency button to alert the heroes.

But then back to the villains tearing the buildings down with joy and pleasure.

As the "pray it away, I swear, I'll never be a saint no way" comes back in, the camera starts tightening in on just Deepfrost and his work on the factories, using ice to burst pipes and crumble concrete pillars while the other villains are seen sporadically in the background. The camera spins around him, getting ever closer

On the last "Look out for yourself!" it ends on Deepfrost's glowing eyes and smirk as jags of ice shoot up from the bottom of the frame and cut the 'camera feed' off

[all-the-things-2020]

All Our Future Prospects - Chapter Five

Summary: Claire has dinner with Ezra and Cee and finds it harder to remember that she and Ezra are nothing more than friends.

Rating: PG

The hotel was a charming mix of old fashioned and up to date comfort. Claire’s room was cozy, with an antique style bed piled high with quilts and pillows, an upholstered armchair that would be perfect for reading, and a small wooden desk. French doors opened onto a small balcony that overlooked a garden where guests could wander. The room also boasted a huge holo vid screen embedded in the wall, a fully automatic bathroom, and a computer terminal with the latest gestural control technology.

She was hanging her meager wardrobe in the closet when the comm system chimed. A series of cool blue lights chased each other around the walls until she reached the closest panel and pressed her thumb to the ID plate.

“Hello?,” she said tentatively, wondering what the front desk was calling her about. Had she forgotten to sign something? Had the manager refused the extended stay discount the desk clerk had given her?

“Claire!” Ezra’s voice rang clearly through the tiny speaker, and her heart skipped a couple of beats.

“How …,” she started to ask, but he hurried on.

“Cee wants to have dinner at her favorite restaurant tonight,” he said, and her heart sank. Of course he wanted to spend time with the girl, and was calling to tell her she was on her own this evening. “Can you meet us in about half an hour? It’s not too far from your hotel.”

“Um, yes, of course,” she replied. “I’m almost done unpacking.”

Ezra gave her the address and walking directions, then signed off with a cheery, “See you soon, little owl.”

As the comm panel went dark, Claire took a deep breath. Calm yourself down, you idiot, she told herself. She was far too giddy for someone who was simply meeting a couple of friends for dinner. It most certainly wasn’t a date, not with Cee along. Ezra just wanted to introduce them, so that Claire knew another person and wouldn’t feel so out of place. It was perfectly innocent and logical. But a part of her mind, the part that had lain dormant for far too long, was dancing and spinning around: He wants you to meet his family! It was ridiculous. They’d only known each other a few weeks, were just friends, and Cee wasn’t really related to him. And yet, she couldn’t help smiling as she went into the bathroom to wash her face and attempt to do something halfway attractive with her hair, which was sorely in need of a trim.

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

The restaurant was a tiny diner about two blocks from the school. The front was a shiny conglomeration of glass and chrome with a blinking neon sign above the door. It was garish and brash and geared for teenagers, if the music blasting from the speakers was any indication. Claire almost turned around and walked away, but she saw Ezra waving at her from a booth in the corner. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

The music was loudest near the door and, to her great relief, was at a tolerable level in the corner where Ezra and Cee were sitting, both on the same side of the booth, leaving the other side entirely for her. “Sit down, little owl,” Ezra said. “Claire, this is Cee. Cee, this is Claire.”

Cee smiled and reached across the table to shake Claire’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Claire,” the girl said. She was soft spoken and friendly, but there was an intensity in her eyes that Claire couldn’t help but notice.

“A pleasure to meet you, too, Cee,” she said. “Ezra’s told me quite a bit about you.”

Cee slid her eyes toward Ezra. “Sorry I can’t say the same,” she said. “All he’d tell me is you saved his ass, which I find hard to believe. Not that I don’t think you could save anyone, but because it’s usually the other way around: Ezra’s the one who does the saving, in my experience.” She gave him a good natured poke in the ribs with her elbow.

Ezra shook his head. “It was more a case of mutual saving,” he admitted, “but Claire was the one with the ship, and she convinced the corp to pay me for my troubles, so the endeavor wasn’t a total loss.”

A waiter approached their table. “Hey, Cee,” he said.

“Hey, Glen,” Cee said, too casually. The man was in his early twenties at most, with thick brown hair done in one of the currently popular styles where the ends stuck up in every direction. He had a small silver ring in his right nostril and a tattoo of a blue monkey on his left bicep. Cee was clearly smitten.

“What do you want to drink?” Glen asked. “The usual for you, of course,” he said, nodding at Cee, “but what about your parents?”

Cee looked mortified. “Um, yeah, the Lemon Bright is fine,” she said, looking everywhere but at Glen. “And they aren’t my parents, um …”

Ezra saved her. “I am Cee’s uncle,” he said. “And Claire is a friend of the family.”

Glen nodded. “Oh, okay, yeah, sorry about that,” he said. “So … drinks?”

“A beer for me,” Ezra said.

All eyes turned to Claire and she fumbled with the menu laying on the table in front of her. “Oh, um, what do you have?” She couldn’t find a drinks list anywhere on the laminated paper.

“Beer, wine, all the popular sodas, tea, coffee,” Glen shrugged.

“Tea,” Claire said. “Black tea, iced.” It was usually a safe choice. Some of the sodas had “secret” ingredients that bordered on the pharmaceutical. She’d once made the mistake of accepting a Blast Off Cola and hadn’t slept for nearly 48 hours.

Glen left to fetch their drinks and Ezra nudged Cee with his shoulder. “So … what’s the deal with him?”

Cee rolled her eyes. “Nothing,” she said. “I just come here a lot with my friends.” Ezra started to say something but Cee cut him off. “Don’t. Don’t even think about it, Ezra, I’m not kidding.” She shoved him away and leaned forward. “So, Claire, tell me everything about yourself.”

Ezra chuckled, which earned him a dirty look from Cee. “Well,” Claire said, happy to help the girl out. “There’s not much to tell. I’m an exobotanical chemist for FlanCorp. Basically, that means finding plants on other planets and looking for compounds in them that can be useful. I was on a collection mission this time around, but sometimes I’m assigned to a lab where I prepare specimens for analysis, or to an office where I interpret data. They switch us around every six months or so.”

Glen returned with their drinks. Cee’s glass was filled with a fizzing neon yellow liquid. Ezra shook his head. “I keep telling you that stuff has to be hazardous,” he said.

Cee shrugged. “It’s safe,” she said. “And I like the flavor. It’s not too sweet. Better than that nasty stuff.” She gestured toward his beer and wrinkled her nose.

“You’re the one who just had to sneak a sip,” Ezra replied. “I could have told you you wouldn’t like it.” He lifted his glass and took a long drink, while Cee rolled her eyes again.

“So, you ready to order?” Glen asked.

“Yeah,” Cee said. She looked at Claire. “Do you eat meat?”

“Um, yes,” Claire said.

Cee nodded firmly. “Three Galactic burgers, with the fixings on the side, and a basket of fries,” she told Glen. After he nodded, Cee turned back to Claire. “You’ve got to try this burger, it’s amazing. They use real meat, not that SynthMeat crap they serve us at school. It’s not beef, because there aren’t many cows on this planet, but there’s this big herbivorous animal called a gruffalo that they raise for meat. Kind of like a reptilian buffalo, with green skin. Anyway, it tastes pretty good. Everyone likes it.”

“So,” Ezra said, “how are your grades?”

Cee made a face and stalled by taking a sip of her violently yellow drink. “They’re okay,” she said. “I’m getting an A in shop.”

“What about the rest of them?” Ezra asked quietly but firmly.

Cee sighed. “A B in lit class, C’s in math and bio,” she said. After a pause, she added, “And a D in history.”

Claire braced herself for the dressing down Ezra was about to give Cee, but it didn’t come. Ezra simply nodded slowly and said, “I expect you to bring up that history grade, birdie. I know it’s boring and doesn’t seem to have any practical applications to life, but as the old adage goes ‘he who does not study history is doomed to repeat it.’”

“I know,” Cee said, tracing a figure on the tabletop in the condensation from her glass. “It’s that textbook. And the teacher. They both just drone on and on and on … I like the stuff we read in lit class better. Some of it’s old and weird, but at least it’s stories.”

“History is a story, too,” Ezra said. “They just aren’t presenting it to you as one. There are some fine books out there that will teach you history while not boring you to death. We’ll go to the town library one of these days.”

He took another sip of his beer. And that was that. No haranguing Cee for getting a low grade, no woeful tales of students who did poorly and ended up regretting it, no punishments, no raised voices. Claire was astonished.

The topic turned to Cee’s friends and the outing to a local wildlife preserve they were planning for an upcoming long weekend. “They have this zip line you can go on that takes you through the tree canopy,” the girl said. “And a place where you can feed the jubjub birds. They’re this big flightless bird, kind of like a giant kiwi or something. But they’re blue. And they have claws, so they’re kind of dangerous, and this is the only place you can safely get close to them. It’s pretty neat.” She looked up at Claire. “You should come. The school says we need chaperones. Yung Li’s mom is going, but so far that’s it.”

“It sounds fun,” Claire said, taken aback at the invitation. “I’d be happy to join you.”

“Cool,” Cee said. She fiddled with the straw in her drink. “I hope I’m not being too forward,” she said. “But Ezra said you were here by yourself and you needed stuff to do, so I thought you might like it.”

“It’s not forward at all,” Claire said. “The whole point of me coming here for my vacation was so that I’d know at least two people. I’m — I’m not very good at unstructured time, so I need all the help I can get.”

Ezra smiled. “Our little owl has been confined for too long,” he said. “She needs to stretch her wings.”

Cee glanced quickly between the two of them. “Wow, you already have a nickname,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Should I start calling you Aunt Claire?”

Ezra shoved her with his shoulder. “No teasing,” he said. “Claire and I are just friends.”

Cee nodded her head. “Okay, sure, whatever you say, Uncle Ezra.”

Claire took the opportunity to steer the topic away from her relationship to Ezra. “I noticed that Ezra introduced himself to the waiter as your uncle,” she said. “Is that what you told the school? I don’t want to misstep and say anything to jeopardize your place there.”

Cee shook her head. “No, the school knows he’s just my guardian,” she said. “It’s just easier to tell people he’s my uncle than to try to explain everything. And when the other kids talk about their family, it’s nice to be able to say ‘my uncle’ instead of ‘my guardian’ or whatever.” She shrugged and stirred her drink with the straw, staring into the bright yellow depths. Clearly, Claire had struck a nerve.

Fortunately, the awkward moment was broken by the arrival of their food. The burgers were immense and the basket of fries closer in size to a bucket. Cee helped Ezra assemble his burger before tackling her own. Claire wasn’t sure what all the vegetables were (most planetside settlements grew endemic foodstuff as well as things that originated on Earth) but she gamely piled everything on except something that looked suspiciously like a pickled onion.

Cee devoured her burger, and Ezra, holding his easily in one hand, made quick work of his own. Claire had to agree that the burger was delicious, but it was far too large for her. She managed about two-thirds of it before she had to admit defeat. By that time, Cee and Ezra were stuck into the fries.

“Try one,” Cee said, holding a long, crispy purple fry out to her. “They aren’t potatoes. It’s a local tuber that grows wild but they domesticated it so they get a lot bigger.”

Claire took the offering and it was delicious. “Are they seasoned?,” she asked as she reached for another, even though her stomach protested.

“Nope,” Cee said. “That’s the natural flavor. That’s why they’re so good.” She shoved a small handful into her mouth.

Crispy and savory, with just the right amount of salt … Claire had to force herself to stop eating the fries. She watched in envy as Cee and Ezra polished off the last of them. Of course, Cee was a teenager, still prone to growth spurts, and had the metabolism to match. And Ezra was … Ezra was tall and muscular and male and the burger that Claire had to hold in both hands looked so small in his large, capable hand … she shook her head to rid herself of the thought. Just friends, she told herself. He said it out loud not twenty minutes ago. Just friends.

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

Claire walked back to the school with Ezra and Cee. She certainly needed the extra exercise after that enormous meal, and Cee wanted to show her the dorm building she lived in. “It’s got this really cool fossil embedded in one of the stones by the front door,” the girl explained. “When they built it, no one noticed and then the museum wanted it, but the school said no, the whole building will fall down if we take out that stone, so it got to stay.”

Sure enough, the facade of the dorm building featured an intriguing crinoid-like fossil, with a dozen or more delicate tendrils flaring from a thick stem. Cee smiled quietly at it. “I like to picture it on the bottom of the ocean, just swaying with the currents,” she said. “It’s peaceful.”

“It’s amazing,” Claire said. “Excellent detail. I can see why the museum wanted it.”

Cee nodded. “My friend Dex and I have a debate about what color it was,” she said. “I say it was pink, like a worm, but he thinks it was green, like a plant. We had to do a painting in art class last term and he did this cool scene of a bunch of them, like a carpet of living grass. So maybe he’s right.”

After saying good night to Cee, Ezra led her to the main office, near the entrance gates. There he introduced her to the receptionist and asked for her name to be placed on Cee’s contact list. “This way if you and Cee want to do something and I’m not available,” he explained, “you can sign her out.” The school allowed the students several hours of free time in the evenings, when they could leave the grounds on their own, but during the day, they could only leave if signed out by a parent or other responsible party.

At the gate, Claire paused. “Thank you for letting me join you for dinner,” she said. “I know you haven’t seen Cee in a while. I would certainly have understood if you wanted some private time with her.”

Ezra waved his hand dismissively. “Cee and I will have plenty of time to talk and hang out,” he said. “I’m here until I can get up enough capital to head out on another prospecting trip. And we knew you’d be lonely, first night in a new place.”

“Well, thank you again,” she said. She wasn’t sure how to take her leave. His boarding house and her hotel were in opposite directions, but it felt awkward saying good night standing in front of the school gates. “Um, I guess I’ll see you sometime tomorrow,” she stammered.

“You certainly will,” he said, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him. “Let’s make plans on the way to your hotel.”

“Oh, you don’t have to walk me back,” she said hurriedly. “It’s not far and it’s still light out.”

Ezra put his hand on his hip and tilted his head at her. “A gentleman does not let his friend walk alone through a strange town,” he said firmly. “Besides, I like to walk.”

He shooed her forward and then fell in step beside her. The sidewalk was just wide enough for two people to walk abreast, and she was very conscious of his hand swinging so close to her own. How easy it would be to reach out and slip her hand into his, or for him to place his arm around her shoulder. But they were just friends, she reminded herself. Just friends.

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

Ezra said good night to Claire on the steps of her hotel. He didn’t want to make things awkward by going into the lobby with her; she might feel obligated to ask him up to her room. As he walked toward his boarding house, he felt himself relax for the first time that evening. He knew Cee would like Claire, and vice versa, but it had still been a bit nerve wracking introducing the two. For better or worse, these were the two most important people in his life at the moment, which was more an indication of the paucity of his relationships than anything more momentous.

It would be good for Cee to have a female role model, a nice counterpoint to his own decidedly male experience in life. Cee was at an age when hormones began to complicate things, and having another woman to confide in, even for just a couple of months, would be a great help to her. He liked Claire’s level-headedness, her careful and cautious approach to life; it would give Cee a different outlook, an alternative to his own somewhat reckless example.

Of course, Cee wasn’t the only reason he was happy to have Claire around. Even though he knew there was no chance of things progressing past friendship with them, it was nice to walk down the street with a woman beside him. He’d resisted the urge to take her hand, even after their fingers inadvertently brushed against each other, causing his entire hand to twitch as he pulled it back. Claire was not his “type,” and yet there was something about her …

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. No use going down that mental path. What he needed to focus on was following up on the leads his new landlord had given him, finding a job, and earning some money. The voucher from FlanCorp would keep him going for a little while, but he needed to save up for another prospecting venture. Cee was paid up for the rest of this school year, but in about six months, tuition for the next year would come due, and that would just about wipe out whatever he managed to save during that time. He needed a big score, or at least a medium-sized one, in order to keep her in school until graduation.

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

The next day, Claire availed herself of the free breakfast provided by the hotel, and met Ezra two blocks away as they had arranged.

“Did you sleep well, little owl?,” he asked. He looked rested but a bit rumpled. She fought down the urge to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt. It was the same one he’d worn the night before and she realized with a start that he didn’t have the luxury of multiple changes of clothing like she did. Not that her wardrobe was extensive: five shirts, three pairs of pants, and assorted underthings. All of it was made from lightweight, easily packable materials and could fit into a single duffle bag. Handy for someone who had to move every six months, but still way more than Ezra had at the moment.

“I did, thank you,” she replied. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Ezra smiled. “Before I start my job search, I thought we could enjoy a walking tour of the town. A mini vacation of my own, before the cares of life intrude again.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him and they set off. “Cee is indignant that she has to miss out, but I reminded her that her school is her job and she can join us after her classes are finished. Apparently there are a few places she insists you have to know about.”

The town was not large. Even though there was no need for an environmental dome, it followed the general blueprint of most colony settlements: a densely populated central core, with a ring of green space and other amenities around it. As they traversed the streets, Ezra pointed out places he thought she’d find interesting.

“The museum is nice,” he said. “Not much as far as history goes, since the first colonists only arrived sixty years ago, but very good exhibits on the native flora and fauna. And some nice local art works in the Fine Arts gallery.”

A block or two later, he pointed out the public library. “An excellent establishment. They have a wide selection of books. There is an on-demand printshop a few doors down, and they make sure the library always gets a copy of anything worthwhile. Of course, you can always download books onto a terminal or handscreen, but I prefer a good old fashioned book.”

“So do I,” Claire said. They stopped outside the library, under the shade of a small tree with pale green leaves that were almost yellow. “There’s just something about the weight of them, the texture of the pages …”

“And the smell,” Ezra said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Paper and glue and leather, if you’re lucky enough to get hold of an old one.”

“I never would have pegged you as a bibliophile,” she said.

“Why not?,” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her. “Because prospectors are all illiterate degenerates who can’t make a living any other way than grubbing in the dirt?”

“No, no,” she said. “I don’t think that at all. I just meant … I mean … you’re always fidgeting, full of energy, ready to move. I didn’t expect you to enjoy such a sedentary activity.”

Ezra chuckled. “I was teasing, little owl,” he said gently. “I am a restless person, always looking ahead to the next challenge, but I have my reflective side. Part of prospecting is waiting out bad weather stuck in a tent or other shelter, and a good book makes the time go faster. And after a long day’s work, there is nothing more refreshing to body and soul than an hour or two spent reading.” He winked, and she felt her heart flutter. How in the world could this man take an insult and turn it into a way to flirt?

“I’ll keep that in mind in case I ever need to get you a birthday present,” she replied. I can flirt, too.

“Alas, my birthday has already passed for this year, and you’ll be long gone before it comes around again,” he said. His remark punctured the light mood and they both walked on in silence.

Don’t start something that can never be, Claire reminded herself. You’ll only regret it if you do.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Safe & Sound ~ OT7 [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.5K

GENRE: Angst with a fluffy ending, platonic friendship with the boys, fighting, 

PAIRING: Platonic ot7 x Fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy this my love! Sorry it’s a little late my laptop completely gave out on me so I had to steal my brothers >.< I hope that this fic is okay for you and that Y/n isn’t too easily forgiving! I am working on that for you guys like I said before

The room was so hot it felt as though you were going to melt into a puddle on the seat, a heatwave had made its way through Seoul and Sejin made a decision to have a conference with the boys in the hottest room in the HYBE building. It was one of the hottest days in the year and instead of being out in the sun you were trapped in a meeting room waiting for Jimin to come and meet you, the boys and Sejin to have a nice long discussion about the tour that was going to be coming up.

The way that Sejin paced up and down in front of you made you nervous, he called a meeting with you and the boys and of course, Jimin was running late but Sejin had no idea why leading him to believe that you did. Being close with each of the boys meant you must have known everything, even if you didn't.

"You sure you have no idea?" You shook your head as Sejin asked you for the fifteenth time if you knew where Jimin was, you did, but you weren't going to let onto the fact that you knew. Jimin was on a date with his secret girlfriend and you were covering for him, you and the boys were the only ones who knew who the boys were dating since it was in their contracts that they weren't supposed to but they were boys. They had needs just like everybody else had so you kept their secret. After all, you were their best friend, you'd been with them since they debuted and you were always going to stick by their sides no matter what.

"He probably slept through his alarm Sejin, you know what he's like," You suggested, trying to calm the manager down who simply sighed and nodded his head at you finally taking a seat at the desk while the other six boys thanked you with their eyes. They all knew where he was but you didn't know the exact details, you never wanted to know the details just who they were with and how long they were going to be.

"Sorry, I'm late! The alarm just didn't wake me up," You sighed in relief as a sweaty-looking Jimin sat down in a chair beside Yoongi, Sejin said nothing as he stood up and began making his way over to a whiteboard to begin discussing the arrangements for the new tour.

As their personal assistant, you were going to be going along with them everywhere, as you did every tour, it was fun. You got to explore the world with some of your best friends as well as get some front row seats to the best performances you'd seen, though you had seen them enough times you could probably perform them with the boys. You'd gotten to travel around the world with your best friends, seeing the sights, having fun and just relaxing despite it being your job.

"As usual we'll stay in the cities for two nights and then head out to the plane the next morning, bright and early. That means no one can be late," Sejin said with a stern voice as he stared at Jimin who was hiding behind a cup of iced tea and blushing, you bit down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing and waited for Sejin to finish his speech. Hoping it would be soon so you could get out of the room, it was like sitting in a vivarium, if this was how snakes felt all of the time you never wanted to be one.

"I didn't think he was going to stop talking," Jin moaned as he sat in front of the small mini-fridge that was in Yoongi's studio, the door open as he let the cold air hit his body. You and Namjoon on the other hand were laid on the flooring under the air-con machine being blasted with cold air, 

"I think I lost weight in there," You whined as you looked over at Jimin, his head in his phone clearly trying to apologise to his girlfriend who had ditched, 

"Is she okay with it? I'm sorry I couldn't get you out of it, I already got Jungkook out of a meeting last week," You spoke softly as Jimin glanced up at you, shaking his head. 

"It's not your place to make excused for us, don't be silly," You smiled weakly and laid your head back down on the floor as you watched the ceiling. All of the boys were dating and only you knew about it, no big deal. Namjoon had been together with his partner since the year after they debuted together, it was a surprise to you that no one else knew about them.

"How's your dating life going?" Hoseok asked as he fanned himself with a stack of papers from the coffee table, you scoffed at him whilst shaking your head. 

"I don't have time for dating, I'm too busy looking after you idiots," You mumbled sarcastically as you sat up slowly, thanking Yoongi who came into the room carrying cold drinks for everybody. 

"When was the last time you did something that wasn't for us?" Taehyung questioned, genuinely interested since to him all he seemed to him that you did was work, wor, work and sleep.

"Last week I went to that book shop-"

"Which you went to because Namjoon wanted the knew Leigh Bardugo book," Jungkook interrupted as he smirked at you.

"But I still went and got some things for myself." You grumbled, wanting to move on from this conversation as it made you uncomfortable. 

"Y/n can do what she wants, when she wants she just choices to look after us," Yoongi reminded them as he could see how uncomfortable you were getting about the subject, 

"Anyway, you need to listen to this new song, so come on." He quickly headed over to his computer and began typing as he searched for one of the songs he'd been working on, while you carefully snuck out of the door and headed to your office for the day. 

"I'll walk you to your car," Jimin said as you walked into the elevator together, you glanced up at him and smiled weakly. It had been a long day of organising things for the upcoming tour, making sure the hotels you were going to visit had everything the boys would need as well as running around the building to make sure the boys had what they needed that day. Your head was spinning so fast you thought you were going to need a week-long nap just to make up for it, 

"Can you drive me home instead? I feel like I might fall asleep," You whined, laying your head down on his shoulder as he chuckled hitting the garage floor buttons and nodding his head. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary for one of the boys to drive you home or for you to drive them home you were like a happy family and they always looked out for you. 

"Sure, I'll get Jin-Hyung to pick me up from yours," He chuckled as he waited for the lift to move, laying his head on top of yours as you shut your eyes for a second wanting to rest them. 

"Thank you for covering for me, I didn't mean to stay at Mina's last night, we just had a long night." You laughed softly while shaking your head,

"It's fine, you don't have to explain anything to me Jimin, just make sure you're on time or Sejin might get suspicious. I don't mind you boys dating as long as you can keep it under wraps, you know that." You poked his cheek as you stood up straight, getting out on your floor and giving your car keys to Jimin who began following you in the direction of your company car. 

"What are you doing for your eighth year with the company?" He questioned, trying to make small talk to keep you awake for a little while longer, he knew how bad your sleeping patterns would get if you went to sleep now. 

"I'm thinking of taking a week off, maybe go and have a holiday? You keep pestering me to do," You laughed softly as you got into the passenger side door of the car and watched Jimin as he started the engine, he always looked so confident when he drove compared to when he first passed his test and was always so nervous to even start up an engine. 

"What?" He stared at you thinking he'd done something wrong but you shook your head with a smile, 

"Nothing, you just look confident, it's a good thing." You whispered as you stared out of the window focusing on everything you were passing by as Jimin tried to make some basic conversation with you. 

The next morning there was a weird feeling in your stomach that something was going to happen or that something bad had already happened and you had yet to figure out what it was. The boys hadn't replied to your calls or texts and Sejin was telling you there was an urgent meeting you had to be in right away with no excuses. 

"Morning Ted, did your baby arrive yet?" You laughed softly looking up at the security guard as you signed in. Normally you would exchange small talk about his pregnant wife but today he seemed stand-offish and was ignoring you as he handed you your ID card and took your bag to scan it through. 

"Everything is clear." Frowning at the way he was acting you headed over to the elevators ignoring the glances you were getting from people around you, it could have just been your imagination but they were whispering under their breath and pointing at you.

"I heard that it dropped late last night and she's the only one capable of knowing everything." The doors shut before you could hear anything else that one of the cleaners was saying, the feeling you had that morning tripled in size and your legs felt like jelly, you could have sworn you were going to throw up at any second. Rumours in this place were the worst kind of rumours, they could make you lose your job or have you arrested, no one seemed to think before they spoke around there and any kind of news true or false spread like wildfire. 

"Morning Sejin, everyone is acting rather odd-" You stopped talking when you walked into one of the smaller conference rooms to see the boys sitting around the table with Sejin, all staring at you in silence as Sejin clicked on his laptop. Behind him on the projector screen appeared different articles about the boys all with yesterday's and today's date on them, each of them detailing the dating lives of the members with photographs.

"What the fuck," Your bag dropped from your shoulder and onto the floor as your eyes scanned over the screen, more and more articles popping up the more Sejin clicked on his keyboard.

"What happened? I thought you told me you would be careful!" You yelled staring at the boys who were all staring back at you, Yoongi scoffing as he shook his head at you. 

"There Y/n goes, shifting the blame onto somebody else," Your heart began to pound against your chest as you realised they thought that it had been you to leak the stories to the press. 

"What?" You stuttered out looking from Sejin to the boys, all of them had the same look of disgust on their faces as they looked at you. Well all of them except for Jungkook who seemed to have his head in his hands.

"We trusted you!" Namjoon hissed as he got up from the chair, slamming the palm of his hands against the wood as he locked eyes with you. It felt as though you were being told off by a parent only worse, this time you knew you'd done nothing wrong and yet they were going to blame you without any form of proof. 

"Why would I go to the media? I've been working here for eight years, why would I go and throw away eight years of work and friendship?" You pleased with them, trying to make them see the sense in what they were saying, you would never do anything like this to them. Not to mention you'd signed thousands of contracts stating that you couldn't speak to anybody about what was happening outside of that building.

"No one else knows about it, no one but us and you," Yoongi mumbled, folding his arms over his chest as he stared out of the window. He couldn't bring himself to look at you, he felt betrayed in so many different ways. 

"Is this how one of our songs was leaked four years ago?" Namjoon was hurling accusations at you but you shook your head, there was no way you were going to let them put the blame onto you for this. Not when you had nothing to do with it.

"Why would I do something like that? I'm your friend-"

"No you're not, you've never been our friend. You've been using us since the start," Jungkook finally spoke as he got up from his chair, you glanced over at him to see his eyes were bloodshot from crying, Sejin looked over at the door as someone knocked on it and he excused himself. 

"I haven't been using you, I've been here since you debuted, I've been working with you guys. You're like my brothers, why would I ever hurt you like this?!" You were yelling now as they continued to put the blame onto you, you knew yelling wasn't going to make them see the truth but it was the only way you thought you could heard over them. 

"Tell us we're wrong then, tell us you didn't go to the media with all our date stories," Hoseok said as he stared at you, arms folded over his chest as if he was challenging you to do something. 

"Fine. You're wrong. I would never do something so idiotic," You stared at Jimin who had yet to say a word to you,

"Jimin took me home and I went to bed last night, I could barely lift my head up." You began going over in your mind what you had done the night before, there was no way you would do something like this. 

"The sources came from your email account, your name was used to sign off on each source," Taehyung mumbled, getting up and pointing to the source materials all of the media outlets had been using. 

"It's not that hard to get my email online, it's not that hard to find my name-"

"STOP LYING TO US!" Jimin finally cried out, red in the face from anger as he let tears stream down his cheeks, your heart felt as though it was breaking from the sight alone. 

"Jimin...Please, I would never do something like this to you." Tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes as you wished he would believe you, hoping that was some way he would take your side through all of this. 

"It's a good trick though, pretending to be our friend and then selling stories behind our backs," Yoongi said sarcastically as he sat back down in the chair it looked as though he'd already made up his mind on what had happened, they all had. 

"You're a disappointment," Jungkook hissed, venom dripping from his words as he stormed out of the room, you begged him to stay but he ignored you. 

"Why would we ever trust a snake, like you?" Another stab to the heart as Jin stormed out of the room with the words, you turned to look at Jimin who was normally the one to take both sides during a discussion but this time he seemed to have already made up his mind and he was set in his way. 

"You have to believe me, I would never-"

"Then how do you explain it?! How do you explain everyone knowing it all! You're the only one that knew all of this information Y/n! Just fucking own up to it and don't be so stupid," He yelled in your face making your breathing hitch in your throat, you watched him walk out of the room followed by Yoongi, Taehyung, Hoseok leaving you alone with only Namjoon who was shaking his head at you.

"Joonie-"

"Only my friends get to call me that, we never should have trusted you." He rubbed his temples and you knew what that meant, he was trying to make a decision about something and your heartbroke. It was about you and you knew it. 

"To make things easier, since no one believes me anyway, you can stick your job," You mumbled, snapping the lanyard that carried your ID inside and dropping it onto the desk. Followed by the company car keys, 

"I'll give you the apartment key when I move out," You grumbled, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind you. 

"Don't act like you're better than us! You did this to yourself!" Yoongi yelled as you joined him in the hallway outside of the meeting room, you scoffed at him as you finally let the tears go. 

"You know what, you've already made your decision so it clearly doesn't matter. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?!" You yelled back at him, you didn't need to worry about losing your job since you'd already quit, there was nothing holding you back anymore. 

"What happened to, "Y/n you're our best friend, no matter what?', or is that all just bullshit now?" You yelled out, eyes scanning over their faces as the elevator let you know it was on the floor. Ted got out and you knew he was there for you.

"We never should have hired you," Jimin laughed as he looked at you, everyone on that floor began to come out of their rooms to get a look at what was happening as if it was something happening on their TV show instead of right in front of them, 

"We never should have hired a stupid girl who no one else wanted, someone who ruins everything that she touches!" You stiffened up your back as you heard him, Ted touched your upper arm but you moved away from him walking yourself into the elevator as you shook your head.

"You guys act like you're so sweet and yet you're toxic to the one person who's only ever always been there for you." You mumbled, hitting the bottom floor button before the doors shut, leaving them behind as you sunk down onto the floor crying at the thought of them hating you forever.

"Do you think we were too harsh?" Hoseok whispered as he sat in the dorms later that night with Jungkook and Taehyung, all three of them were regretting what they had said while the others stayed in their rooms not speaking with one another.

"No, I mean...There was no one else it could have been, she didn't have to lie to us," Taehyung grumbled as he poked at his food with his chopsticks, he'd lost his appetite all day being worried about what you were going through back at the apartment you were staying in.

"Well, I mean not really...It could have been any one of the girls we're dating..." Jungkook whispered as he looked over at Hoseok who sighed to himself, none of them had thought it through before accusing you of being the one to leak information.

"Why would they though?" Taehyung frowned, he knew his girlfriend would never do something that could potentially ruin their relationship.

"Why would who, do what?" Namjoon questioned hearing the end of their conversation, 

"Jungkook thinks one of our girlfriends could have been the one to leak the information but why would they? I mean, unless it was out of spite but I don't think they would," Hoseok explained, thinking back to his girlfriend and shaking his head, he knew she would never betray his trust that way but Namjoon's face seemed to turn pale and it looked as though he was beginning to sweat.

"Namjoon?" Jungkook questioned, confused as to why the leader looked as though he'd just seen a ghost roaming around the halls of the dorms. 

"I mean- What if it was one of our girlfriends...I- Me and Jessi had a fight last night and we broke up...She knows everything Y/n knows and more...She never liked Y/n either so she would do it to spite us all..." The room suddenly fell cold even though it was a heatwave and the boys all panicked, darting for their phones to try and contact you while Namjoon tried to piece everything together and think of a way to get it out of his ex that she did or did not do it.

Getting it out of Jessi wasn't easy but after HYBE ordered a warrant to go through her internet histories finding everything came from her IP address, including multiple email accounts created under your name and address the boys instantly tried to get into contact with you but you had blocked their numbers wanting nothing more to do with people who thought that you were lying to them. 

"I bought a coffee, to make up for things," Jungkook said as you walked out of your apartment to find him standing there staring at you. HYBE had allowed you to stay in the apartment until you found another place to live and the boys had been sending over non-stop gifts to try and say sorry to you, this was the first time you'd seen any of them face to face since it happened. 

"You think a coffee, some flowers and a huge 'I'm Beary sorry' teddy bear are going to make up for it?" You scoffed, pulling the strap of your bag over your shoulder, making your way towards the building's main elevator where the rest of the boys were waiting. They knew there was nothing they could do, say or give to you that would even begin to make up for what they said and did to you. Embarrassing you in front of everyone that was in that hallway that day, yelling at you, accusing you of something you'd never done in your life.

"No, but it's a way of us saying sorry and starting to mend what we broke," Jungkook whispered, Jimin glanced up at you as you looked over each of them. It was obvious how sorry they all were but if you forgave them so easily who was to say that they wouldn't do it all over again? You didn't want them to use you like you were some kind of mug.

"Will you think about it?" Namjoon questioned as you got into the elevator without saying anything to them but you had no idea what to say, it was hard. After eight years you thought they trusted you as much as you trusted them but clearly, you were wrong about that fact. 

"I guess...But it hurt, knowing that after all these years you didn't believe me." You looked up at them as they all looked down at the ground apologetically. 

"We're sorry," They each said as the doors shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your vibrating phone. Sejin had been trying to get in contact with you since he found out it was all Jessi, he wanted to get you to come back to your job and apologise for what had happened but you ignored his calls and voicemails. You just needed some time and space to think everything over, things would never go back to the way they were. You'd never be able to be as close with the boys as you once were but it was worth a shot. Right? 

The last few weeks consisted of sneaking into the HYBE building without the members knowing, signing all new contracts to work with a different team and group as well as trying to mend your business relationship with Sejin. Since you felt betrayed by him and the boys you no longer wanted to work under them but that didn't mean you couldn't be friends and still work for the company. After eight years you decided you weren't just going to throw it all away for nothing. 

"You're here?" Jimin questioned as he walked into one of the lounge area's in the building to see you standing with JR from NU'EST, he was talking to you about something he wanted brought to him. 

"I am, I'm working though so if you want something you'll have to walk and talk," Jimin frowned as he followed you out into the hallway, following you around as you headed towards the canteen to get a coffee. 

"You're working for NU'EST now?" He questioned, watching you closely as you nodded your head, turning to look up at him with a weak smile. 

"This was the only way I could think of saving a friendship...I couldn't work for you or Sejin again so I'm with NU'EST...I'll see you around and we can develop our friendships again," He knew that you were coming from a good place and it was nice to know you were willing to work on your friendships with them but he couldn't help but feel hurt by you choosing to sign with a different band after everything you'd done with them.

"Jimin...This was the only way I could come back to work," You whispered as he nodded at you, following you back up to the lounge and he told all of the boys what was happening. 

Days at the company turned into weeks which turned into months of you working for the new group, working alongside them while working on your friendship with the NU'EST members as well as the BTS boys again, wanting nothing more than your friendship to be as strong as it once was and it was back at that point. You felt as though you could trust them and get along with them better, 

"It feels good to have you back," Jungkook said as he handed you a plate of food, all eight of you were at the dorms eating take-out and watching some bad movie that Hoseok had picked out. It was your monthly movie night that you used to have together, it was nice to know that everything was clicking back into place and you were developing growth with them.

"I CALLED IT!" Yoongi yelled as the two side characters began to make out in the forest before being killed by the movie killer, it was a tradition between you all to make bets on movie cliche's that would be used within the movies.

"It was so obvious," You mumbled putting the money you owed him into his hand before stealing one of the spring rolls from his plate and eating it happily. It was safe to say everything was back to the way it should have been in the first place, the way things were happy. You felt as though you were back home safe and sound.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​

[crackheadgeminibby]

better for you

pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader

warnings: age gap, angst, language

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this lowkey sucks and is very poorly edited, i’m sorry but on the plus side, i surpassed 400 followers yesterday!! so thank you to those 400+ people🤍🤍

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape of form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous person. Much less a jealous girlfriend. Not at all. Never had and you thought you never would.

You had practically raised yourself as your parents had always been more preoccupied with their jobs. You loved your parents, you really did, but when your high school counselor told you that you could graduate high school a year and a half early, you took the opportunity to start college immediately and move out of your parents’ house. This drastic change when you were so young made you become extremely independent. Which is why your relationship with Chris worked almost perfectly. You valued your independence, as he did his, and you respected his independence, as he did yours.

As a corporate lawyer that had multiple firms around the country, you traveled a lot, needing to meet with clients. Chris, as an actor, also traveled a lot.

You both trusted the other without a doubt at the beginning of the relationship despite that Chris was, at first, a little wary of being with someone as young as you. As a 24-year-old, he thought that you should be living your life, partying, sleeping with whomever you wanted without being tied down, but you had explained to him that despite your age, those were not the things that you wanted.

You and Chris were truly made for each other, knowing the other more than they knew themselves. You would even dare to call yourselves soulmates.

Which is why you could not fathom why you were in your current situation.

You had left early in the day for California, where you were overseeing the opening and start-up of your newest firm. Chris, on the other hand, had left 3 days ago to go on some trip his publicist had arranged for him. You hadn’t bothered asking what it was about, assuming that it was about ASP. Plus, you didn’t mind it: he had to do what he had to do.

But now, you couldn’t believe yourself.

You were sitting on your hotel bed, in a white and fluffy robe, fresh out of the shower. Your computer was open in front of you, the TV was blaring the news and you had your phone in your hand. It was almost 11pm but you had been doing this for at least 3 hours. All three electronics were talking about the same thing: Are Chris Evans and Lily James dating??

It was a bit your fault that people gave themselves the right to assume things like that, to be honest, since you had been the one to pressure Chris about keeping your relationship secret. You knew that people would talk and judge you for your 15-year age gap. You, personally, didn’t care and neither did Chris but his career was dependent on his public image and you didn’t want to hold him back, especially not at a pivotal moment in his life like right now.

So, you had agreed on telling your families and your very close friends and Chris had convinced you to let him tell his publicist, Megan. God, she fucking hated you. When Chris arranged for you guys to meet, she had called you “a walking, breathing PR disaster”. You had laughed it off calling her funny, but you knew that she was 100% serious. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that she would do something so fucked up at some point.

A bunch of different news outlets were pumping out new stories every 30 minutes, each article a little more detailed than the previous. It was all over the Internet and it seemed to be the only thing that people cared about today.

Considering the 8-hour difference between London and San Francisco, you hadn’t been able to talk to Chris at all since you got to your hotel. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to talk to him. He hadn’t even tried to talk to you. Why was he avoiding you and acting like he had something to hide?

You’re reading the latest Daily Mail article on your computer about how Chris and Lily apparently got to his hotel in the same car when you hear your phone ring on the nightstand. You don’t even bother looking at the caller ID as you reach for your phone, eyes still glued to your computer and answer,

“Hello?”

You hear a loud exhale on the other end of the phone before you hear Chris’ tired voice, “Baby, hi.”

You tense up slightly before asking, trying to seem nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“Have you watched the news today?”

You bite your lip, thinking, before replying, lying through your teeth, “No, why? What’s going on?”

Chris sighs again before answering, “Nothing, it’s fine. How was your day?”

You roll your eyes. Was he seriously not going to say anything?

“Fine, but it’s really late and I have to get up early tomorrow so good night.”

You hang up the phone before Chris can answer anything. You throw the phone at the end of your bed, frustrated beyond belief.

You continue to read the Daily Mail article as you hear a message coming in. You don’t bother to get up to pick up your phone as you see the message appear on your computer screen a couple of seconds later.

chris💙, 11:01pm:

Good night baby girl. Good luck tomorrow🤍

You groan loudly at his message. Even when he had pissed you the fuck off, his words still brought butterflies to your stomach.

You disregard his message and finish reading the article. You roll your eyes as you close your computer and get up to put it on the hotel desk. As you’re walking back to bed, you take your phone from the end of the bed and put it on its charger, ready to go to bed.

You’re not sure how you manage to fall asleep that night as your mind swirls with unending thoughts.

When your alarm wakes you up at 6am the next day, you feel groggy, having slept very badly last night. Which was to be expected.

You get up and change while eating a protein bar before heading to the hotel gym: you needed to do something to get your energy up. Once you finish your workout, you head back to your room to get ready for the day.

When you get out of the shower, you open your computer and, having left the Daily Mail website open last night, you see a new article posted 2 minutes ago: Chris Evans and Lily James seen on a date in a London park.You groan loudly, closing your computer as you hear that your cell phone is receiving multiple texts.

You reach for your phone on the hotel desk and your eyes widen as you see your lock screen.

5 missed calls

12 messages

You open your Phone app seeing one call from Chris, two from your best friend, one from your brother and one from your mom.

You open the Messages app as a new message from your brother comes in.

will, 7:31am:

When did you break up with your boyfriend? And why didn’t you tell me?

you, 7:32am:

i didn’t

yet

will, 7:32am:

You know i’m gonna fucking murder him right?

You smile fondly at your brother’s concern, chuckling softly as you type your reply.

you, 7:33am:

as you should(:

You open the rest of your messages, mostly asking the same thing. You didn’t feel like talking about it anymore so, you ignore them until you get to your conversation with Chris.

chris💙, 5:22am:

Hey, I’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now.

I’m so sorry

Call me when you can, please. I really need to talk to you.

You bite your lip as you think about what to answer. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this right before your firm’s opening. Shaking your head, you lock your phone, putting it back on the desk, getting dressed.

As you get back to your hotel room, exhausted from your day, you hear your phone signal an incoming text for the millionth time today.

You sigh loudly: you knew it was Chris texting you again. You had been ignoring his texts all day because you didn’t want to get in a bad mood while you were opening the firm.

You put your purse and work bag on the floor, unlocking your phone. You open the conversation with Chris, scrolling through his messages.

chris💙, 6:15pm:

I’m leaving a bit earlier than I planned, I should be home tomorrow morning.

Are you back in Boston or are you gonna stay in LA?

You sigh, feeling guilty that you had been ignoring his texts all day. You start typing a reply, your finger hovering over the send button for a couple of seconds before clicking on it.

you, 6:17pm:

i’m still in san francisco i’m leaving tomorrow morning

As soon as your message goes through, you see the three dots pop up in the conversation.

chris💙, 6:17pm:

Oh my God, hi. Are you okay?

Can I call you?

You chew on your bottom lip: you really didn’t think he was going to answer that fast.

you, 6:18pm:

i’m about to take a shower then i’m gonna go to bed i’m really tired sorry

chris💙, 6:18pm:

Okay, I’m sorry

Good night

You groan loudly. You really didn’t know why you felt so guilty: he was the one running around with another woman. As you think about this, you realize that you didn’t really know who she was.

You shake your head at yourself as you pull up Google on your phone and look for her. You don’t even realize it but, 20 minutes later, you were now at the oldest post on her Instagram.

You curse at yourself, dropping your phone on your bed, and head to the shower.

You stay under the hot stream of the shower for at least an hour before you finally get out, toweling off.

You order some room service for dinner, settling down in front of a random show playing on the TV. After pushing your food around for half an hour, you sigh loudly, put the tray on the hotel desk and get under the covers before finally falling asleep.

You had not slept very well so you had been in a rush to leave the hotel and catch your flight to LAX in the morning. You were exhausted and hungry when you got to your shared LA home with Chris but there was no food in sight, considering that neither of you had been here in a couple of months.

As it was not too late in the day, you decide to take a nap and order some food after.

When you wake up a few hours later, the sun has already completely set and the house is pitch black. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and take your phone before heading to the living room to order some food.

As you enter the kitchen and are about to head to the living room, you hear a deep voice, “Hey, you’re up.”

Taken by surprise, you throw your phone in the direction of the sound and scream, “Holy shit!”

“Ow… What the fuck?”

You’re breathing heavily, clutching your chest as you turn on the kitchen lights, brightness illuminating the area as you see Chris holding the side of his head.

“Jesus Christ, Chris! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

Chris rubs at his head as he looks towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heartbeat starts to slow down as you roll your eyes.

“What are you even doing here?”

Chris frowns and replies, “Well, you never told me where you were going to be but when I got back to Boston and you weren’t there, I assumed you were coming here.”

You groan silently, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows,

“So, London seemed to be very fun.”

Chris shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, before making eye contact with you, “I didn’t know that’s what the trip was about.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “Really, Chris? Since when do you go on trips, not knowing what they’re about?”

Chris exhales loudly, taking a couple of steps towards you, “I promise that I didn’t know. Megan planned everything and just sent me the info.”

You snort loudly, rolling your eyes. Chris frowns before asking, “What?”

“Megan, Chris? Really? She fucking hates me, of course she would pull a stunt like this.”

Chris frowns again, shaking his head, “What are you talking about? She doesn’t hate you.”

You laugh, this time, actually finding this funny, “Chris, she literally called me a walking disaster.”

Chris struggles to find an answer to that: he knew that Megan used this exact kind of formulation so he couldn’t deny it.

“And you know what? It’s fine. Maybe you really should be dating her instead of me.”

Chris’ face contorts in a mix of hurt and anger, “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true, Chris. She’s better for you. She’s actually your age, not a fucking child compared to you. She can give you the things you want from life that I can’t. Maybe it’s better that way.”

“What way?”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at your feet, mumbling, “If we weren’t together.”

Chris scoffs, “You literally have to be kidding me.”

Chris takes large steps, making his way towards you and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/N, I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. I do not give a shit about your age. And I thought you didn’t either. So, what’s the problem here?”

You bite your bottom lip nervously, “Because what if what Megan said is true? I mean… If people find out that we’re dating, the shit talking would never stop. I can’t do that to you.”

Chris sighs, enveloping you in a hug.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters if we’re not together.”

He lets you go, stroking your cheek, “You’re it for me. There is no one better for me than you. And no one is going to take that away from us. Not you. Not Megan. And certainly not my fans. If they love me as much as they say they do, then they’ll respect you.”

You chuckle slightly, “Chris, I don’t know what kind of fantasy you live in, but in real life, that’s not how things go.”

“Okay, but who cares? There’s two people in this relationship, you and me. Not you, me, Megan and my fans.”

You scoff, mumbling, “Yeah, tell Megan that.”

“I will. The same goes for her. I didn’t know she actually meant those things about you and I’ll tell her that she needs to knock that shit off.”

You sigh, nodding slightly, “Okay.”

“And, baby, I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, trying to understand, “I never should have agreed to Megan’s little plan thing. But, most importantly, I should have told you as soon as I knew. It’s just that I kinda owed Lily a favor and she needed this. But it doesn’t erase the fact that I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

You sigh, “I know, it’s okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen when I decided to be with you, and I overreacted a bit so I’m sorry too. I knew it wasn’t true and I should have asked you about it instead of ignoring you. I just… couldn’t let go of the fact that maybe you should be with her.”

Chris shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. And I never will be.”

Chris laughs a bit before continuing, “Sorry, but you’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. Looking back at Chris, you smile warmly before hugging him,

“I love you, Chris. Like, a lot.”

Chris chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I love you too.”

[aubreyprc]

four hands bloody

summary -  entropy but, its hotch and emily. and they’re in love. that’s it.  

part seven of my sour series

‘all the things I did, 

just so I could call you mine,

all the things you did, 

well i hope i was your favourite crime’

-

Ten Years Ago

One year, five months and four days. That's how long they had been together when she announced she had been offered a job in Europe. Interpol, to be exact, and that she was leaving for Brussels in less than two months. There was no argument, nor was there a discussion, he simply takes her out for dinner, a celebration on her success so fresh out of college and they spend their last two months preparing for their separation. They pack up her apartment, they place certain things in storage and other things in her Mother's house in D.C, one that was empty for most of the year anyway and they enjoy their last few weeks together. Confessing love under the sheets, whispers of promises they know neither are going to be able to keep and they pretend as though there's a chance they'll meet again, even though in reality, they know its unlikely. Her love for Europe one he's very well aware of, and he knows once she's there she will never leave and he wouldn't want her to, and she's aware that he would never move, too fond of the city, his heart set on a job in the FBI, and she wouldn't ask him to give that up, just like he'd never ask her.

He takes her to the airport, cupping her face, wiping her tears with a sad smile as he holds back his own when they stand at her gate, parting way's for the first and final time.

"I love you." he whispers to her, and the happy laugh she lets out as she sniffles has his own small laugh escaping his chest. She hooks her hands to the back of his neck as she kisses him softly, the cold of her tears latching onto his skin as he pulls her closer.

"I love you, too." she whispers as she pulls away, gently resting her forehead on his, closing her eyes while she takes a small breath. "I—" she says but she stops herself, opening her eyes as she pulls away from him, her eyes on his as they stand there, feeling as though they were the only two people in the area.

"You're going to miss your flight." he tells her gently as the last calling for her plane echo's through the airport.

"I can't say goodbye to you." she whispers sadly, lacing her fingers through his as they rest in the middle of them.

"Then don't." He says, squeezing her hand as he entwines it with his, wiping her tears with the other, and she leans her face into it with a sad smile. "Think of it more as an... I'll see you later." he smiles to her and she laughs.

"Okay." she nods, "I'll see you later." she smirks.

"Go," he tells her, nodding as she slowly backs away, "I'm a phone call away."

"I love you." she tells him again as she steps back.

"I know," he says, "I love you too."

And just like that, with one last smile, she turns, her dark hair moving further out of focus until she is just a memory he can look back on, a woman he loved once.

Had he known just who that woman who turn into, he would have never let her get on the plane. Would have kept her in his arms, and then maybe none of this would have happened.

JJ runs into the briefing room, relief running through her veins as she finally has an ID on the killer they had been chasing for four months, a woman, who had a signature that matches one of an International terrorist, Ian Doyle, their first suspect as soon as the first two body's dropped, two Interpol agents, Clyde Easter and Sean McAllister, until he was found dead, and had been dead, a week longer than the two Agents, as well as his entire inner circle. His son still a missing person.

"I have an ID on her," JJ says as she rushes in, dropping the files on the table as she grabs the attention of the team. "All the Agent's who worked The Valhalla case last year have all been killed, apart from three who have been placed into witsec, using the the same signature Ian Doyle used," she tells them as she clicks on the screen. "Which made me think that it had to be someone Ian knew, right? Someone he trusted."

"What are you getting at?"

"Ian had a fiancé," JJ says, "Which we already knew, I know, however this is where it got interesting." she tells them as she clicks on the screen, "Ian, had a son, Declan, and everyone in Interpol had come to the conclusion that he and his inner circle were killed by another terrorist group and that his Fiancée would have taken Declan at his orders. But," she stops, “His Fiancée was a CIA agent, deep undercover, the Agents on the case just assumed he had killed her the moment she was made, her cover blown just the day before he was killed but there has been no record of her death anywhere."

"Who was she?" Morgan asks, looking through the files.

"Her cover name was Lauren Reynolds, and all files, pictures… everything was completely wiped when the case agents were found dead so its been impossible to find her real identify, to know if she had been found, dead or alive. So, I had Garcia work her magic..."

"Yes," The blonde says, standing up, clicking a few buttons on her computer as she pulls up the files she had recovered. "Lauren Reynolds, arms dealer, you know, everything that would be needed in a fake identify to get into the big leagues, but after searching around and doing several face recognitions, the same woman appeared, and its her. There is no doubt." Penelope tells the team.

"Who?"

"CIA Agent, Emily Prentiss." JJ says and the room goes silent as they stare at her picture on the right of Lauren Reynolds, the similarity leaving no questions, the only difference being in hair colour.

"She's the killer?" Reid asks.

"She's the only one from JTF-12 who's still alive, has the training, knows how to vanish, would have intimate knowledge of Ian, which is why the kills are exactly the same as his were."

"Do we think she's killed other people apart from the Agents?" Morgan questions

"She's vendetta driven, she'd kill anyone who came under that vendetta." JJ answers, "She fits the profile."

"Prentiss..." Rossi mumbles, "Why does that sound familiar?"

The room is silent, neither noticing Aaron pale as he stares at the picture in front of him. His mind running wild with questions.

"You worked for Ambassador Prentiss, right?" Dave asks Hotch, "Before you worked here?"

Hotch just nods, unable to trust his voice as his eye's move from the picture of her to the descriptions of her crime.

"Did you ever meet her?" Morgan asks, but Aaron doesn't answer, just simply stands.

"Excuse me." he says, before basically rushing from the briefing room and to his office, the sound of his door shutting echoing into the room.

"I'll take that as a yes." Morgan says, looking back at the picture on the screen. "That's her, huh."

"That's her."

"Now what?" Reid asks, and Rossi stands.

"I guess that all depends on what Aaron knows about her."

Slamming his office door shut behind him, he closes his eyes, taking deep breathes as his stomach turns to the point where he thinks he might be sick, the image of her on their board making his head spin with reasons, questions, but mostly, it just shows him flashes of the woman he knew, all those years ago, the woman who would smile at him from under his covers when he brought them back breakfast from his morning run, the woman who would kiss him so gently he theorised right there that she could never hurt anyone, the young woman he loved so much and who he knew loved him back just as equally now painted as a murderer, profiled, as a murderer, probably a murderer and he can't wrap his head around it, how someone so innocent and full of joy and happiness could switch so drastically and become of the most notorious and well known killers the BAU had looked for, how someone so light and full of life could become someone who took it from others, killing higher commanding agents from all sorts of government positions, leaving no trace except an M.O that leads back to a man he realises she knew well, probably even loved and he can't understand it.

"Aaron." Dave says as he opens the door, "I gather you knew her, back when you worked security?" he asks almost gently. He closes the door behind him, heading further into the office while Aaron stood at the window, staring out of it while he caught his breath, forcing the sick feeling to vanish.

"Something like that..." he mumbles, looking down to the floor as his heart rate lowers, his breaths evening out.

"How well did you know her?" Dave asks, taking a seat; Aaron turns, looking at his oldest friend with a face that tells him all he needs to know and the older man just looks at him with shock, before nodding his head. "Very well, it seems."

"Dave—" he begins but the older man shakes his head.

"This was years ago, the woman she is now wouldn't have been the woman you knew, there's no reason for explanations, not to me."

Aaron just nods, "So, what now?"

"Now, we come up with a plan of how to get her out of hiding, she hasn't been seen by anyone, that were aware of but she has to be somewhere, right?"

"She's CIA. She could be anywhere, she knows how to work the system better than anyone."

"Then we use something personal, give her a reason to show up, let her play her game."

"She never got on well with her mother I doubt anything like that would bring her out—" he stops when the older man looks at him, "What? Me?"

"Do you think it would work? Were you involved enough to have you be someone she'd want to see?"

"Dave, it was ten years ago."

"Yes," he tells him, "Which is why I'm asking how involved you were..."

"We were— It was..." Aaron says, before sighing, "Using me as bait might not work, she could be—"

"Did she love you?"

"What?"

"Emily, back then, did she love you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then using you as bait will work." Dave says, standing up, "Trust me."

"You have a plan?"

"Sort of, but we have to tell the rest. All of it."

Aaron rolls his eyes, turning again to look out of the window.

"She needs catching, Aaron, she will find the last three, and she will kill them. We need to know why."

"I know," Hotch tells him, "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

He explains it to them, how he and Emily had dated ten years ago, before she got offered a job at Interpol, he explains that he hasn't heard from her in years and that he isn't even sure the plan will work, but they have to try. Said plan, being putting out their first press conference since they got the case, with Aaron, who will explain they have an ID on the killer and that they are close to catching them, their hope being that Emily will see it and reach out to him, knowing that with her ties to the CIA, she would have no issue finding his number.

"And if she reaches out?" Morgan asks, "Then what?"

"We let her set the terms, but we'll get her. If she calls, if this works, we'll get her. We would have found a weak spot." Reid tells them, "Love."

It does work, it take's a few days, but it works.

He's in his office, running through some reports when his phone rings.

"Hotchner."

"You have my attention," The voice on the other line says and he tenses, before he stands, clicking to the team as they follow him to the briefing room. "If I knew you were the Agent on the case I would have called sooner. I always did love it when I was the centre of your attention." she tells him just before he puts the phone on speaker.

"So you know we've figured it out? That it's you who's killing these agents?"

"I'm not worried." she says easily, they can hear her walking around somewhere, as though they were having a causal conversation, as though she wasn't an international killer, an assassin.

"Why's that?"

"Because, if I hadn't have called now, you would never have found me. I'm still two steps ahead." she says with a smirk. "That was the plan, right? For me to call?"

"It was." he says, looking at Garcia as she tries to trace the call.

"How about dinner?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Dinner, you know? Two people at a restauran—"

"I know what dinner is." he grumbles, hates that he can envision the smirk on her face, hates that it gives him butterflies. “What's your game?"

"No game," she tells him, "but, I figured if I'm going to be interrogated it might as well be over a nice three course meal."

"How do you know you won't be arrested on the scene?"

"Because if there was any evidence against me at all, I'd already be in your interrogation room." she tells him, "All you have is Ian's M.O, the death of my old team, and the fact that I was undercover... I'm CIA, Aaron, I know everything."

"So, you want to get dinner?"

"Sure," she says, as though she was accepting an invitation. "How does Saturday fit in with your schedule?"

The team nod at him, so he accepts.

"I have one condition." she tells him, "It's just you. No wire. No team."

"You know we can't do that.”

"Not even if were just two old friends catching up?" she teases, "Where's your sense of adventure, Aaron?"

"It's a wire or my team."

"Dealers choice," she teases, “if I get away don't feel too bad about it, I just don't think orange is my colour." she tells him, before the line goes dead.

"Anything?" Morgan asks Garcia, who shakes her head.

"Somewhere in Italy, no pin point location."

His phone beeps on the table then, and Rossi gently turns the screen to him.

"The name of the Restaurant and a time."

"Do you think this will work?"

"I think it's the best chance we've got."

His phone beeps again.

"Your team or a wire, not both, and if I find out you lied, someone will die, Aaron. I don't play games." Morgan reads aloud.

"You have to have both."

"You read the message—"

"No wire and there's no recorded confession, and we lose her, no back up and she could do anything." JJ tells him.

"We'll figure something out." Dave says, clasping the man on the back. "We're this close."

Aaron nods, but something tells him this wont be as easy as they predict.

Despite his protests, he's told he has to wear a wire, explanations of needing both eyes and ears on him (them) at at times. He steps into the restaurant, noticing JJ and Morgan sat at the table three away from his, sending them a nod as he sits down, he then notices Reid sat at the bar, then Dave sat at the table on the other side.

"You ready sir?" Penelope says down his ear piece from the unmarked van out front, "She's on her way in."

His heart hammers in his chest as he prepares himself, nerves racing through his body as he see's her for the first time in ten years and its nothing like he thought he would. He always imagined they'd get called to a case in Europe and she'd be there, or she would move back to the US and they'd bump into each other in the supermarket. But this? Meeting her in a restaurant because she's killed more than ten people in the span of a year? This he never imagined, because who would?

She's smirking as she walks over, the slit of her dress showing of her left leg and it almost leaves him breathless. She reaches the table in what feels like slow motion, every head in the place turned to face her as her heels clack on the hard floor, each one entranced by her. Even members of the team. Even him.

He stands once she's a few inches from him and soon she's right there, it’s then he realises he's just as enthralled by her as he was ten years ago, it has his stomach tightening. He nods at her as she smiles at him with the tilt of her head and a twinkle in her eye that he's seen before and suddenly it's ten years ago and there's no FBI, no dead Interpol and CIA agents, just them.

"No hug?" she teases, but he just stares, watching as her eyes move around the restaurant before back at him. "I see you went for team. Good choice." she says, taking a seat in the booth. "That mean's no wire, correct?"

"Correct." he lies, taking a seat across from her, watching as she grabs the wine menu.

"Good." she says casually as her eyes cast over the menu. "The one at the bar looks ten, are you sure he's qualified?"

It takes all of him not to laugh, her humour unchanged, the one thing that caught his attention in the first place all those years ago.

"I'm sure." he nods, looking down at his own menu as he rolls his lips.

"You can laugh, you know." Penelope tells him, "She's funny."

He simply clears his throat.

The waiter come over, she orders them a bottle of wine, before looking right back at him.

"It's been awhile." she tells him, "It seems we have a lot to catch up on."

He raises an eyebrow at her, "Yeah, I'd say so."

"Tell me about your life, Aaron." she smirks, knowing full well it's a game he isn't interested in playing.

"You want to have small talk?"

She just smiles, thanking the waiter as he places the wine on the table.

"Like you said, we have a lot to catch up on."

"That's not why were here."

"Then why are we?"

"Emily—" he says and her eyes catch his, her name coming off his tongue catching her off guard; she clears her throat as she picks up the glass.

"You have a tan line on your ring finger," she points out while bringing the glass to her lips, "either you took it off for my benefit, or you're recently divorced." she smirks, raising an eyebrow as he clenches his fist at the table, running his thumb over where his ring used to be, "Does it make me a bad person to hope its the latter?" she whispers to him, leaning over the table to trance her finger across his arms, laughing when he slowly pulls away, bringing her hand back to rest around the glass. "Divorced or game playing, Agent Hotchner?"

"Why?" he asks, "Does it make a difference."

"Yes." she tells him, "Either you're divorced, or you thought you could flirt your way into getting me into the back of a SWAT van, which just insults both our intelligence at this point." she says, before looking at him, "I'm not a toy, Aaron, you cant play with me till I give you want you want."

"I never planned to." he tells her, "Divorced."

"Kids?"

"Yes."

She nods, leaning back on the chair as she throws her eyes over to the blonde woman, an agent, she knows, and waves, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"Your team aren't very good at blending in, Agent Hotchner." she mumbles, looking back at him, "Aren't you supposed to be profilers?"

"You already knew they were coming, why hide them?"

"Hm," she shrugs, "A challenge, maybe."

"Is that why you killed your old team? A challenge?"

"Really keen on getting down to business aren't we..." she chuckles, leaning her chin in her hand as she rests her elbow on the table. "No small talk?"

"Isn't that what we've been doing for the last half an hour?"

"Here I thought we were just reacquainting."

"Why did you do it?"

"I have my reasons."

"Then share them." he says, "You called me, Emily. You came here, why?"

"Maybe I just missed you." she muses, "Would that be so bad?"

"Not if it was the truth, but it's not."

"How do you know?"

"Because I don't think you're capable of those feelings anymore." he tells her, watches as her face falls for a moment before she smirks, her mask back in place, "You were, but something happened and it changed you. You've killed eleven people, five of which you considered friends... I don't think anyone is capable of feeling anything after that, how could they be?"

"Maybe I can compartmentalise." she offers with a smirk.

"Not this well." Aaron sighs, "Why come out of hiding? Why come here knowing there's a chance you could go to jail, why risk it.. If it wasn't to talk?"

Emily looks at her glass, rolling her lips as she sits straighter and clears her throat.

"Like I said," she tells him, "Maybe I just missed you." her voice is more soft as she says it this time, a voice that brings back memories from ten years ago, when she was the woman he loved, when they were happy.

"What happened to you?" he asks gently, looking at her as she catches his eyes, her mask falling and a look of pain staring back at him. She lifts up her glass, brining it to her lips.

"They got me in too deep and left me to die," she tells him, "Karma's a bitch."

"Undercover? As Lauren?"

She sighs, dropping her glass, looking around the restaurant at the other Agents slyly looking in her direction.

"I said no wire," she mutters under her breath and he tenses, "I said you could have your team but no wire. Those were my conditions."

"I'm not���"

"Don't lie to me, Aaron." she tells him, watching as the Agents in the room start to move, another hint that he is in fact wearing one. She looks at him with a head tilt, "I said no wire."

"Rules are rules—" he starts, and she nods, dragging her tongue across her front teeth before she looks him dead in the eye, yet this time it isn't pain that looks back at him, it's something else entirely, something he has never seen from her before and it has terror climbing through him.

"They sure are," she agrees, "Do you remember mine?"

And he does, they all do, if i find out you lied, tricked me in anyway, someone will die, Aaron. I don't play games. Her words running wild in everyone's head as she looks around the restaurant.

"Emily—" he tries but she's already standing as is the rest of his team, their guns aimed at her and she laughs almost viciously once she's on her feet, the team surrounding her at all angles.

"No one shoot." Aaron tells them as they stand, gun's aimed at her.

"You should listen to your boss." she smirks, pulling her own gun from her inner thigh from a slit in her dress, clicking it as she grabs a man from the table behind her, gun to his head as she smiles.

"Now," Emily sighs, "Are you going to let an innocent man die because you couldn't follow my simple instructions?"

"Emily, just, everyone out their guns down." he says, "Now." he orders and the team lower their weapons cautiously. "You want the wire gone the wire can be gone."

"Too little too late for that I'm afraid."

“You wanted to talk, right? You came all this way. You risked a lot.” he tries, “I’ll remove the wire and we can talk. Just us.”

Emily stares at him, catching her eyes on his before she pushes the man down, placing the gun back on the strap on her tigh before she takes small steps towards him, smirking as she the others agents watch her carefully.

She places her hand on his chest, feels the wire and before he knows it she’s yanking it from him, the device falling to the floor and everyone in the room jumps as she slams her heel into it.

“You broke my trust.” she tells him, their eyes meeting. “You want to talk?”

“Yes.” he nods.

“Then come with me,” she smiles, “No team. No wire. And I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Emily. You know I can’t do that.”

“Why?” she asks with the tilt of her head, “You're going to act like there wasn't a plan B? I'm sure there's a voice recorder...” she stops, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him, before she rolls her eyes, pulling the voice recorder from the back of the booth and throws it at him.

"Shall we?" she smirks.

He’s silent for a moment, before he accepts and she smiles, holding her hand out for him to take and he sighs before placing his own in it.

They walk out of the restaurant, as they pass Morgan and Reid she smiles.

“Don’t wait up.” she winks, and they’re out of the building.

“I’ll drive,” she smiles, pulling his car keys from his back pocket with a wink.

He doesn’t dare look back as they get into his car, and as they speed down the road, something tells him this won’t end well. He doesn’t see how it could.

She parks the car on the streets, turning the engine off before she looks at him.

"Do you know where we are?"

He turns to face her, his expression soft as he nods.

"Of course." he tells her, "We're a few blocks from-"

"The car has a tracker," she smirks, "Come on."

She jumps out of the car, all but slamming the door before she ventures down the street, a carefree stride as her heels click against the floor, he follows suite.

As they reach the old building she stops, turns to face him.

"Its a shame they closed it down." she muses, "We used to hide out here all the time."

"It was out of town."

She laughs, before she heads towards the ladder to the roof, ignoring his clear detest to the idea.

Once she's on the floor she inhales, looking up, listening as Aaron came up next to her.

"How long do you think we have?"

"Half an hour, tops."

"That'll do." she smiles, walking aimlessly. "Ask away, I know you want to."

"I want to understand..." he tells her, "Why you did it?"

"I told you."

"Tell me again."

"They— All of them," she starts, "They left me to get killed."

"What do you mean?"

She turns, facing him as she sighs.

"I'd been under for...just over two years and Ian started...asking questions. Normal ones, about kids, and marriage." she explains, "And when I couldn't answer he got suspicious, starting asking around if they knew me, and he was... I don't know but I knew I needed to be pulled out before he found out anything."

"They wouldn't pull you out?"

"Worse," she laughs, "Clyde refused to pull me out, Sean was planning on having the whole organisation Ian was running killed, me along with them."

"Thats—" he stops, "They can't do that."

"They can if they lie to higher ups, claim I've started working against them."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know. I don't care." she tells him, "Tsia, who I thought was my friend was the one who came up with it, the whole plan to have them all taken down, Jeremy helped her."

"So you... Killed them?"

She smiles as she looks at him, "Yes."

"And the higher up's who let it happen?"

"Everyone." she tells him, "Apart from three, who by the way, I was on my way to when I heard your press release."

"You—" he says but stops, shaking his head. "And you... Don't feel any guilt?"

"Why should I? They were going to kill me." she answers, sitting on the edge of the roof, her legs dangling as she lays back, looking at him with a head tilt as it lays on the floor. "Join me."

He sighs, before dropping next to her, the both of them staring at the stars.

"I heard you got stabbed." she says softy, turning to face him as he turns to face her with a frown.

"How?" he asks but she raises an eyebrow and she just chuckles. "I did." he answers.

"The reaper, right? George?"

"You know him?" he asks with wide eyes and she laughs, looking back up at the sky.

"No." she tells him, "I'm sorry about your family."

"Me too." he sighs, and before he can say anything else the surrounding area is lit with blue flashing lights, sounds of sirens echoing in their ears.

"That was quick." she laughs, sitting up. "What's it going to be, Aaron?"

"What?" he asks as they both stand, "You're going to jail."

"No," she says, slowly moving towards him and he want's to move, he should move, but he can't. She reaches out to cup his face, before kissing him, grabbing a needle from her pocket before jabbing him in the shoulder and he goes instantly, falling into a hump in her arms. She lowers him, resting his head gently on the ground before grabbing the voice recording and stroking his cheek.

"I'll come back for you." she whispers, before quickly standing, rushing off the roof and down the streets before the FBI even figure out where she and Aaron were.

Once they find him, once he's given the all clear by the medics, he's asked questions about what happened and he says only that he can't remember, that she'd said something about her team leaving her to be killed and the rest is a blur. It isn't true, and he refuses to think about whether or not they believe him.

His lips feel hot with the pressure of her own lingers on them, the ghost of her hand on his cheek feeing like a burn. He lays awake that night and wonders if he’d never see her again, and he hates that he hopes he does.

Over the course of the next three weeks, she remains on his mind constantly, a mixture of what they used to be, the time they spent together feeling like a life time ago and yesterday all at the same time, but what she became, who she became, reminds him that meeting her again, being reminded how much he had loved her, means nothing. There is no more them, no more hopes for a future with her, no more wonders about her life, just the facts. And the facts are that she’s a murderer, an international serial killer and makes him hate himself more than he is ever thought he could when he realises that he doesn’t even blame her, that he understands why she became who she did, why she did what she did, and it has him unable to look at himself in the mirror, leaves him wondering that maybe he’s just as bad as she is, that if he was given the opportunity to kill the person who had ruined his life, taken his family, he wouldn’t even hesitate to put a bullet through his head makes him her equal, rather than someone who had the right to arrest her.

He doesn’t expect to hear her, when he’s on the phone begging for Foyet to spare his family, racing back to his family home with prayers that he makes it, in fact it’s the first time she’s been off his mind since their reunion, so when the gun shot echos down his ears, the silence on the other end defending as he hits his fists against the dash, it takes a new moments for her voice to even process, to even hit his ears, but when it does his broken heart hammers in his chest.

“Hello George.” she says, and he can see the smirk on her face, can imagine the startled look on his.

“who are you—“ he starts, before there’s a crash, and he’s left with the dial tone, the incessant ringing sounding like a siren as he speeds down the road.

He arrives at the house not twenty minutes later, not even turning the engine off as he rushes into his old home, the home where he ex wife, the mother of his child, lays dead, murdered by a man he brought into her life. He expects there to be shouts, screams, raised voices from the two of them but the house is silent as he walks through it, the only thing he can hear is the sound of his heartbeat as it races in his chest, his whole body on edge, his hand on his gun.

"It's over." her voice say's from across the living room and he turns quickly, his eyes meeting hers from across the room and it takes a few seconds for him to notice the blood on her hands and her shirt, the knife more red than silver as she twists around in her hand, her eyes staring right back at him, a twinkle of something in them that he just can’t describe.

“Where’s my son?” he asks, “what did you do?”

“I didn’t touch your son, Aaron. I have no idea where he is.” she tells him, sitting up, “I did however get into a little bit of a brawl with the man who—” she stops, “I was about three seconds too late. She was dead when I got here…” she says, an almost sadness to her tone that catches him off guard. He's stood in shock, trying to work out his next move, looking around the living room in a sort of haze as he tries to piece together what the hell he's supposed to do now, when she stands, the sound of her heeled boot on the hard floor making his head snap towards her, the sight of her covered in someone else's blood one he never thought he would have imprinted in his brain, and he wants to yell, he wants to scream at her, but he can't because he's grateful. Grateful that she got here in time to stop him from killing his son, grateful that she put an end to his torment, killing the man he would have spent the rest of his life hunting for if he got away, grateful that she took it upon herself, to end the man's life, leaving him free of the burden of taking one, no matter how much he would have been justified, no matter how much it would have been deserved. But then she's walking towards the front door and even though he is grateful, even though he wants to let her go, whisper a small thank you to her as she leaves, he can't because he has a duty, a duty he has sacrificed too much for to let her slip away now, and he find's himself grabbing her wrist as she sips passed him, and is taken aback when she freezes, her eyes snapping up to his.

"I can't let you leave." he tells her, his eyes burning into hers, regret filling them because this is the last thing he wants to do. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," she whispers, and her words have him tensing, unsure of what exactly she could do, knowing far too well what she was capable of, knowing she does not deal well with betrayal, he starts to think that she never really has, even then. He feels her go to pull from his grip and before he knows it, he has her pinned to the door, a gasp leaving her lips as her back knocks into it harshly, his side pf his arm resting on her chest, keeping her pinned as he looks at her. "Ouch." she tells him, smirking as he meets her eye, his face inches from hers.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks her softly, "How did you even know?"

"I was in the area." she tells him, a lie, he knows, and he simply just stares at her. "I was... doing you a favour." she whispers, hating that her mask was slipping, that he still had this hold on her.

"A favour?"

"You've been worried about your family, I thought if I could give you some... If I could insure you that they were okay that you'd, I don't know, stop beating yourself up about it."

"You were with them?"

"Haley didn't hate you, Aaron." she whispers, "If anything she was grateful that they had the option of witsec at all."

"Stop." he growls at her, pinning her to the door more harshly, letting his anger take over. "How did you—"

"I saw him talking to them and I knew... every single one of us are the same, Aaron. I knew. I was just too late." she whispers, lifting a hand to his cheek to wipe the tears she's sure he isn't even aware has fallen. "Go and get your son." she tells him gently, smiling sadly at him as he looks at her.

"You saved his life," he whispers to her, "getting here when you did." he says, "you weren't too late."

Emily smiles softly, running her thumb across his cheek, "Go and find your son, your team will be here soon."

"I—" he says, conflicted between his duty and his love. "If I let you go... you have to promise me that you're done. That you will settle down in a small country and that you will be done." he tells her, "the anger that you're holding, the killing... it won't do what you think it will. If I let you go you have to promise me you will stop, and let yourself be happy."

"I don't think happy is in the cards for me," she whispers, "But I promise." she tells him.

He looks at her, seeing the woman he loved all those years ago, the woman he knows he does and never will stop loving and he tells himself that if this is the last time he ever see's her this will not be how it ends, and he kisses her, his arm moving from across her chest to around her waist, pulling her into him gently as her arm hooks around the back of his neck.

"Go," he whispers against her lips when she pulls away slowly. She meets his lips once again for a chaste kiss, before she drips out of the door, the sound of another one slamming a few yards away making him jump before he heads for his son, the sound of the team arriving outside echoing through the walls.

She walks right passed the team, watching as they rush into the house and she wonder's what he will tell them. She sits in the empty house across the street, looking out of the window as she sips on a glass of whatever wine she had found in their pantry and she watches. Watches him leaving the house with his son in his arms, watches him pass the little boy to the blonde agent, watches as he speaks to officers, lets her mind ponder about just what story he's spinning to them and she's caught completely off guard when he looks up at the window of the house across the street, like he knew if he looked she would be there, and as their eyes meet, he just nods slightly, and looks away, following the older agent into the back of an SUV, he son reaching out for him, and then they're gone.

He tells the team how she slipped right passed him when he went to get his son, that he has no idea what her game is or where she went. He lies because he has to, he lies because he can, he lies because he can not find it in himself to care anymore, and he thinks maybe if he sees her again, he might just run off with her.

Two months and eight days, that how long she waits until she calls him, hidden away in a small city in Paris, her heart hammering in her chest every time she remembers that fateful day. Every time she remembers that kiss.

"Hotchner," he says, half distracted by the paperwork he's filling out on his desk, she remains silent for a few moments, wondering what to say, wondering if he'd even want to speak to her.

"Hey," she says simply, and the silence that follows makes her stomach turn.

He leans back on his chair, the sound of her voice through the phone filling him with something like comfort and he cant' help but smile, even now.

"Hi," he says, "It's been awhile."

"I had a few things to sort out." she teases, smiling to herself. "How have you been?"

"It's been hard but, I think we're through the worst of it." he tells her, "it seems as though you kept your promise."

"Only for you." she jokes, "I needed a break anyway."

"Hm, sure. " he plays, the sound of her easy laughter on the other end making his heart flutter, "where are you?"

"That depends," she says.

"On what?"

"On who's side your on." she whispers, he can hear the pain in her voice, the hurt, and it makes him want to throw up that someone who used to be so free, and kind, has been made into this, forced into this, and he speaks before he even realises he wants to.

"Yours," he tells her, "always" he adds quietly, and the small breath she takes on the other end makes him smile.

"I'll call you again when I can," she whispers, "There's one more part of the promise I need to keep."

"I look forward to it." he smiles, and the line goes dead.

He knows he should feel guilty, dirty, for feeling like this for her, for hiding her like this but he just can't. He loves her, and why shouldn't he?

He hears of Emily Prentiss' death through JJ as she closes the file, and it has his heart snapping in his chest for a moment, until he finds himself thinking that maybe she just created the best get out of jail free card he'd ever seen.

"I heard you died." he tells her over the phone when she calls a few days later, a small smile on his lips. Her laugh sends waves through him.

She calls again two weeks later, it's a short conversation as he sits in a hotel room, whispering soft words of how he’s growing to hate the job he works, missing his son, wishing for a new life, one where his failure doesn't follow him around and she listens, soft words of advice falling from her lips that make his heart warm.

They talk for hours, days, weeks, months and soon enough he breaks.

“I can’t stay here anymore." he confesses as he watches his son play in the living room.

“Then move,” she tells him.

“Where?”

“Where do you want to go?"

“Where are you?" he asks softly, and he can feel the smile on her lips.

"A small town... somewhere in France." she whispers.

"Maybe I'll move there." he offers, a smile on his lips as he listens to her try and hold down her nerves.

“I...suppose that’s always an option,” she agrees after a few moments of silence.

“Are you an option?” he whispers, his true connotation not lost on her, and the question has her heart thudding against her ribs.

“Yes.” she tells him softly, and he knows its the right decision when his heart flutters.

He and Jack move three weeks later, a soft apology to Jessica, who promises to visit once they are settled, a conversation with the team on his last case, a simple explanation that he's moving for Jack, for a better life, and everyone stands in shock when they realise he never did tell them where he was going.

He follows the directions on his phone to a small little town outside of Nice, the sound of Jack's laughter as he steps out of the car and into the sun a sound he'd been wishing to hear for months. He reaches up as they're walking and he scoops the boy into his arms. They're just at the gate of her home when she steps out, leaving agasint the door. He walks, unable to hold back his smile as he heads towards her.

"Hey," she smiles when he reaches her.

"Hi," he smiles back, "Jack, this is Emily." he tells his son, who looks at the new woman with wide eyes, "can you say hello"?

"Hi." the boy smiles, his hand coming out in a small wave and she laughs.

"Hi." she says back, "Come on." she says, opening the door further to let them through. He stops at the side of her, before kissing her softly, the feel of her smile making his heart jump. He smile when he pulls away, before heading into the house, whispering to Jack as the boy points to things around the new surroundings.

Emily walks beside him as they reach the overly large garden and he looks at her.

"Nice place," he smirks and she shrugs.

"I killed the owners." she says nonchalantly, before heading off towards the large garden furniture in the middle of it, the feel of his eyes on her back making her laugh. "Are you coming?" she says, holding out her hand and he takes three steps, grabbing her hand in hers as they walk.

"You didn't really.." he whispers and she holds back a smirk as she looks at him.

"A lady never tells." she answers, and the sound of Jacks happy laughter as he jumps into the pool has the questions dying on his tongue.

She lets him ponder about her words for two weeks before she whispers in the dark that it was her mothers home, one she visited frequently when they were in France, and that after her mother passed it was sold, to her, but the name she put it under is one she'll never share.

fin

[selfignitingimagines]

Stiles- If I Can’t Have You, No One Can (Obsessed Part 4)

A/N: When I was initally writing this series I had a set plan for where I wanted it to end and how. I was recently rewatching the last few episodes of season 2 and I got struck with some inspiration. Let me know down below if you guys want a part 5 so I can continue the series!

TRIGGER WARNING: Stalking, kidnapping

Here are the links for Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

“Right there!” Stiles cried, frantically gesturing toward the computer screen on his dad’s desk. “Stop! Stop! See? There he is again.”

They were scrolling through hours of security footage recorded at the hospital the night one of Matt’s victims was killed. So far, all they had managed to capture were shots of him with his back turned. This tape was no different. 

“You mean there’s the back of his head again,” the Sheriff told him. 

“Okay, but look. He’s talking to someone!”

Scott followed Stiles’ gaze. His eyes widened. “He’s talking to my mom.”

He hastily pulled out his phone out of his jeans and called his mom, hoping she would be able to confirm that it was Matt. Stiles tapped his foot nervously as they talked. His shoulders slumped in relief when he heard her say that Matt was the one she had seen. 

“Alright,” the Sheriff said when she hung up. He picked up a manila evidence folder from his desk. 

“We’ve got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site...”

“And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders,” Stiles said. “The trailer, the hospital, and the rave.”

“Actually four,” the Sheriff told him, flipping through the documents in the folder. “A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt a few hours before the murder.”

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, Dad, if one’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, and three’s a pattern, what’s four?”

“Four’s enough for a warrant.”

Stiles curled his fist in triumph. “We can find Y/n.”

“Scott, call your mom back. See how quickly she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Stiles, go to the front desk. Tell them to let Scott’s mom in when she gets here.”

 “On it.” Stiles nodded hastily and turned down the hall. 

His whole body was humming with adrenaline now. He had spent the whole night terrified, wondering what Matt was doing to you. Stiles knew you were probably betting on the fact that they would find you. After all, it was what he would have done in your situation. 

You have saved each other plenty of times before, and now it was his turn again. He knew he could do it, he just wasn’t sure what Matt would do to you in the meantime. 

Stiles had tried his best to protect you, but he knew it hadn’t been enough. He should have pushed harder when he suggested you go to the police the other night. He should have kept a closer eye on you at the party, but he had been too caught up in his own issues. 

He tried to shake off those thoughts as he walked down the halls of the station, telling himself that he still had time to make up for it. He had told you the other night that everything he did was to keep you safe, and that was still true. 

As he rounded the corner of the hall, Stiles realized that the officer on duty was no longer standing at the front desk. 

“Hello?” he called, looking around for her. 

That was when he noticed her black combat boot sticking out from behind the corner of the desk. He felt a shiver run down his spine, and he realized she was lying on the floor among a mess of fallen papers. Her eyes were wide open, but they weren’t moving, and her tan uniform was stained dark red with blood.

She was dead, but as Stiles took in the horrific sight, he also noticed another chilling detail. The holster on her hip was empty. Someone had taken her gun. 

Stiles stumbled back, turning around, only to come face to face with you.“Y/n?”

Tears were slipping from your eyes, and your lip was trembling. You looked terrified, standing there in your disheveled dress. It was the same one you had been wearing at the party last night.

Matt was standing behind you, one hand one your shoulder as he pressed the dead officer’s gun into your back. 

“If you make one move I’ll shoot her,” he told Stiles. 

Stiles reluctantly held up his hands. “Okay. Okay, fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed, but he shook his head. You had to know this wasn’t your fault. 

Matt kept the barrel of the gun pressed against your back as Stiles led you further into the station. He turned into his dad’s office, and you realized that the Sheriff and your brother were also there. 

“Y/n!” Scott cried. 

He started forward, but Matt ordered him to stop, waving the gun so he and the others could see it. 

“Matt,” the Sheriff said slowly. He held up his hands. 

“It’s Matt, right? Matt, whatever’s going on, I guarantee there’s a solution that doesn’t involve a gun.”

Matt’s lips curled into a sick grin. “You know it’s funny you say that, because I don’t think you’re aware of just how right you are.”

“I know you don’t wanna hurt people-”

“Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people. You four weren’t on my list, but I could be persuaded...and one way is to try calling somebody on your cell phone like McCall is doing.”

Scott ripped his hand out of his pocket, looking between you and Stiles apologetically.

“That...that could definitely get someone hurt.”

“Everyone?” Matt gestured with the gun, and you knew he was telling them to give up their phones. “Now!”

“Come on,” the Sheriff told the boys calmly. 

Stiles looked back at you. 

“Pretty sure he tossed mine out the window last night,” you muttered. 

Matt led the four of you to the tiny jail at the back of the station. There, he made Stiles handcuff his dad to a bench. You felt your stomach drop. Now the three of you were completely on your own with Matt.

He waved the three of you in front of him and forced you to walk up to the front of the station. As you passed by another hallway, you gasped.

Three other officers were lying in the hallway and all of them appeared to be dead. Their chests had been ripped open so forcefully that every wall around them was splattered with blood. 

You looked away, fighting the urge to vomit. 

“What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?” Scott demanded.

“No,” Matt said with a scoff. “That’s what Jackson’s for. I just think about killing them...and he does it.”

He forced you back into Stilinski’s office, where he made Stiles log into his dad’s computer. Matt had him delete every bit of evidence, including the video footage of him at the hospital. Scott was destroying the paper evidence in the shredder, including the shoe prints that would have matched Matt’s boots. 

Stiles glared at Matt from behind the desk, wanting to rip him apart as he stroked his fingers down your hair. He had forced you to sit next to him on the couch, and you were currently staring intently at the tiled floor. 

Stiles had already seen the bruises Matt had left on your throat. The only thing keeping him from jumping across that desk was the knowledge that Matt would have Jackson rip all of you to pieces at a moment’s notice. 

“Deleted,” he told Matt bitterly, gesturing toward the computer. “And we’re done. So, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it, because they killed you first-whatever that means-we’re good here, right? I’ll just get my dad and we’ll go. You know, you continue on the whole vengeance thing, enjoy the Kanima.”

Before he could respond, the glow of headlights swept through the windows. You could hear tires crunching on the gravel of the parking lot outside.

“Sounds like your mom’s here,” Matt told you and Scott.

“Matt, don’t do this,” you begged. 

“When she comes to the door, we’ll just tell her to leave,” Scott added. “I’ll tell her we didn’t find anything! Please, Matt.”

The sound of the metal door creaking open echoed through the station, and Matt grinned. “If you don’t move now, I’m gonna kill Y/n first, and then your mom.”

He pressed the gun up against your back, and Scott glared at him. Matt pulled you up by the back of your dress and gestured for Scott and Stiles to go first. 

“Open it,” he ordered Scott, when you had made your way back to the front lobby.

“Please,” Scott begged one more time.

“Open. The. Door,” Matt told him, enunciating each word carefully. 

Scott reached out, shaking his head regretfully. When he turned the knob, the door slowly creaked open to reveal the person standing there. It wasn’t your mom, but Derek Hale. 

“Oh thank god,” Scott breathed. 

But Derek simply stared at him. Then, he pitched forward and slammed straight onto the floor below. Jackson was standing behind him, half transformed. He held up one scaly hand, still dripping with clear venom, and stalked into the lobby.

Matt walked over and knelt in front of Derek, flipping him on his back. He was now completely paralyzed.

“This is the one controlling him?” Derek asked from the floor. “This kid?”

“Well, Derek, not everyone’s lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf.”

Matt straightened up, glancing between you, Scott, and Stiles. “That’s right! I’ve learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas...it’s like a freakin’ halloween party every full moon.”

He smirked. “Except for you Stiles. What do you turn into?”

Stiles glared at him. 

“Abominable snowman,” he snarked. “But it’s more of, like, a wintertime thing. You know...seasonal.”

Matt rolled his eyes, and in seconds, Jackson was swiping his claws across the back of Stiles neck.

“Hey!” you cried. 

“Bitch,” Stiles swore at Matt, before his knees went out from under him. He crashed onto the ground, right on top of Derek’s chest. 

“Get him off of me,” Derek growled. 

Matt laughed. “Oh, I don’t know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must suck though, having all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you’re not used to feeling this helpless.”

Derek glared up at him from the floor. “Still got some teeth. Scoot down here a little closer, huh? We’ll see how helpless I am.”

“Yeah, bitch.”

Stiles’ voice was muffled from being facedown against Derek’s chest, but you couldn’t help but smile. 

For the second time that night, headlights flashed through the windows of the sheriff’s station. You could hear another car pulling to a stop outside. 

“Is that your mom?” Matt asked. “Do what I tell you to, and I won’t hurt her. I won’t even let Jackson near her. 

“Scott, don’t trust him,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s shirt.

Scott remained frozen in front of the door, but Matt was impatient. He reached forward, snatching you by your hair and tugging you back against him. He wrapped his arm around your neck, squeezing against your windpipe and cutting off your breath.

“This work better for you?” he asked Scott.

You reached up, scratching at his arms, but he didn’t even flinch. 

“Okay, stop, just stop,” your brother begged. 

“Then do what I tell you to!” Matt spat. 

“Okay, alright, stop!”

Matt finally let you go, right as you were on the verge of blacking out. You hit the floor on your hands and knees, gasping and dizzy from the lack of oxygen. 

“You,” Matt said, gesturing to Jackson. “Take them in there. You two, with me.”

He yanked you up off the ground by your arm, and gestured for Scott to open the door as Jackson hauled Derek and Stiles out of the lobby. 

When the door finally opened, Matt pulled you behind the corner of the hallway. You could hear the door squeaking open, and your mom asking “Scott?”

You were trembling as Matt held you back against his chest. What would he do to your mom?”

“You scared me,” you heard her say. “Where is everyone?”

That was when Matt shoved you out in front of him. Your mom gasped your name. As far as she had known, you were still missing. 

When she saw Matt come out behind you and press the gun against your back, she froze. 

“Mom,” Scott told her nervously. “Just do what he says. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“He’s right,” Matt agreed. 

Then, he raised the gun, and shot Scott in the stomach. You and your mom both screamed, but as she rushed forward, Matt pointed the gun at you. 

“But I didn’t say I wouldn’t hurt him.”

Scott was holding himself up using the wall, just barely managing to not fall to his knees. He had one hand pressed against his side, and blood was beginning to pool through his shirt. You knew he would heal from the gunshot wound, but your mom didn’t.

She tried to step forward, but Matt waved the gun.

“Back! Back!” he ordered. 

“Mom,” Scott choked. “Mom, do it. Please mom.”

You could hear Stiles' dad from all the way at the back of the station. He had undoubtedly heard the gunshot. 

“Matt! Matt, listen to me-!”

“Shut up!” Matt roared. “Shut up! Everybody shut the hell up!”

He gestured to Scott before training the gun back on you. “Get up, or I shoot your sister next.”

“Please,” your mom begged. Tears were running down her cheeks. “He needs to see a doctor.”

Matt tilted his head. “You think so?”

“It’s alright,” Scott insisted. “I’m okay.”

“No, sweetie, you’re not,” your mom insisted. 

She began to babble about how he was just feeling the adrenaline, how he needed to get to the hospital. You looked over at your brother, and he met your eyes. There was no way he was going to be able to keep his secret after this, provided you all made it out alive.

“They have no idea, do they?” Matt asked you. 

You didn’t answer him. Your mom was still trying to convince Matt to let her take Scott to the hospital. 

“Lady, if you keep talking, I’m going to put the next bullet in her head.”

He raised the gun to your skull. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt the barrel of the gun against your skin.

Your mom took a deep breath, and held up her hands. Tears were streaming down her face, leaving wet lines of black mascara. “Okay...okay.”

Matt shoved you in front of him, pushing you down the hall. He paraded you back through the station, and locked your mom into the cell next to the bench Stilinski was cuffed to. 

When Matt shut the cell door, your mom reached out through the bars, grasping your hand tightly. “You’re okay?”

You nodded, tears slipping from your own eyes. “I’m okay. Stiles and Scott made sure I was safe.”

“Back to the front McCall!” Matt barked. “Both of you!”

You glanced back at your mom reluctantly as Matt shoved you in front of him. He walked behind you and your brother as you headed out into the hallway. Then, he herded you into the station breakroom. 

There were a few tables and some chairs, but even though you were exhausted, you were too afraid to sit down. Scott leaned against one of the tables, still grasping his bloody side. You guessed the wound wasn’t fully healed yet. If the bullet hadn’t exited, it wouldn’t be able to close unless someone pulled it out. 

“The evidence is gone,” Scott told him. “Why don’t you just go?” Matt raised his eyebrows. “You really think the evidence mattered that much? No. No, I want the book.”

“What book?” Scott asked him,

“The bestiary!” Matt snarled. “And not just a few pages. I want the entire thing.”

“I don’t have it. It’s Gerard’s. You told him that, didn’t you?” He was looking at you now. You shrugged. “I tried.”

Scott glanced back over at Matt. “What do you need it for, anyway?”

“I need answers.”

“Answers to what?”

Frustrated, Matt yanked up the edge of his shirt, revealing his scale-covered side. “To this!”

Scott’s eyes went wide. If Matt was turning into another kanima, there was nothing stopping him from killing whoever he wanted. When you looked at your brother’s face, you had the sneaking suspicion that you two would be next on his list. 

------

Stiles laid on the floor of the station, staring up at the ceiling. The tiled floor was cold against his back, which was a welcome relief considering sweat was dripping down his neck. He wasn’t sure whether it was just hot in the station, or if he was nervous. If he was being honest, it was both. 

He and Derek had been lying there for what felt like hours, but Stiles knew it was probably only thirty minutes. 

“Hey,” he said, breaking the silence. “Do you know what’s happening to Matt?”

“I know the book’s not gonna help him,” Derek said grimly. “You can’t just break the rules. Not like this.”

Stiles tried to look over at him from the corner of his eye. 

“What do you mean?”

“The universe balances things out. It always does.”

“Is it because he’s using Jackson to kill people who don’t deserve it?”

“And killing people himself,” Derek added.

Stiles thought for a moment. “So if he breaks the rules of the Kanima, he becomes the Kanima?”

“Balance,” Derek agreed.

“Will he believe us if we tell him that?”

“Probably not.”

Stiles sighed. “Okay, he’s gonna kill all of us once he gets that book, isn’t he?”

“Yep...except for maybe Scott’s sister.”

Stiles gritted his teeth. “I’m gonna kick his ass the second I can move again.”

“That’s a great way to get her throat ripped out too.”

Stiles didn’t respond. He knew Derek was right, but a part of him wanted to go after Matt without thinking about the consequences. He knew he had left those bruises on your neck. He knew that the minute you shattered Matt’s fantasy, he would kill you too. He had to do something before that happened. 

“I know you’re in love with her.”

Stiles swallowed at Derek’s words. “Maybe.”

“I can tell. I know you’d do anything to save her, but right now, we need to be smarter.”

“Alright,” Stiles relented. “So what do we do? Do we just sit here and wait to die?”

“Unless I can figure out a way to push the toxin out of my body faster, like triggering the healing process.”

“Wha-”

He glanced down, only to realize that Derek’s claws were now protruding from his fingers. They had grown into his jeans, right into his skin, where blood was beginning to ooze.

Stiles gagged. “Oh, gross.” 

-----

Back in the breakroom of the station, Matt shook his head, letting his shirt fall back down. He glanced between you and Scott.

 “You know, I feel sorry for you guys. Cause right now you’re probably thinking ‘How am I gonna explain this when it heals?’. And the sad part is, you don’t even realize how incredible it is that you are healing. Cause you know what happens to anyone else when they get shot? They die!”

You and Scott exchanged uneasy glances.

 “Is that what happened to you?” your brother asked.

Matt was silent. He was staring at the ground, but he didn’t look as vicious as he had earlier. He actually seemed kind of tired. Scott seemed to notice this too, so he continued to press. 

“You drowned, didn’t you?”

“He shouldn’t have let them drink,” Matt muttered, still staring at the floor.

“What?” you asked. “Who? Matt, what do you mean?”

“Lahey!” He suddenly exploded. “He shouldn’t have let them drink.”

You flinched back, closer to your brother.

“What?” Scott asked. “Who was drinking?”

“The swim team, you idiot! I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know they had just won State…”

You and Scott listened to Matt as he went on and on. He explained how, when he was in eighth grade,  he had been heading over to Isaac’s to trade comics. Mr. Lahey was throwing a party for his swim team and letting them drink around the pool. All of Matt’s victims had been there. Tucker, Cara, Bennett, even Jessica and Shawn, the married couple.

 They were joking around when Matt came into the backyard, tossing each other into the pool. Isaac’s brother Camden decided to throw Matt in too. They didn’t know he couldn’t swim.

“And the next thing I know, I’m lying by the pool,” Matt explained. “And Lahey’s standing over me, and he’s saying ‘You don’t know how to swim? What little bastard doesn’t know how to swim? You say nothing. You tell no one.’ And I didn’t.”

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I would wake up every night, gasping for breath. My parents thought I was an asthamatic. They even got me and inhaler. They didn’t know that everytime I closed my eyes, I…I was drowning.”

He was silent for a few moments, and then he looked back at you and Scott. “And then came Kate Argent’s funeral.”

His lips began to curl into a smile as he explained how he had realized he and Jackson were bonded. 

“I was taking some photos, and then, purely by accident, Lahey gets in one of them. I looked down at my camera, and I just had this unbelievable rage that filled up inside of me. I looked at him and I just...I wanted to see him dead.”

Matt let out a disbelieving laugh. “And the next day, he actually was! You know, Einstein was right. Imagination is more important than knowledge. It was like something out of Greek mythology, like...like the Furies coming down to punish Orestes.”

He looked over at Scott, who was staring at him, dumbfounded. Matt rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”

Scott swallowed. “Was that...was that the guy that stabbed out his eyes.”

“That’s Oedipus, you dumbass!” Matt barked. 

His gaze snapped over at you. “You know what I’m talking about don’t you?”

You nodded carefully. “The furies were deities of vengeance, weren’t they?”

 Matt nodded. “Their tears ran of blood and they had snakes for hair. If there was a crime that had gone unpunished, the Furies would do the punishing. Jackson is my Fury. You know, when I saw him the next night, I knew he had killed Lahey for me, and I knew he would do it again.”

Matt began to smile to himself again. “So I went to Tucker’s garage. I even paid for an oil change, and guess what? He didn’t even recognize me! So when he wasn’t looking, I took a shot of him with my camera...and in a few hours, he was dead. So I took more pictures. All I had to do was take their picture, and Jackson would take their life.”

You glanced over at Scott, who looked just as concerned as you were. Matt was giving no indication that he would stop the killings. You were pretty sure that he and Stiles were next on his list. 

Scott opened his mouth, maybe to try and convince Matt to let you all go, but he never got the chance to speak. The thick, acrid smell of smoke filled the air, and suddenly the room was engulfed in a white cloud. 

Sirens began to wail, echoing through the halls of the station. They let out a sharp, bleating sound that hurt your ears.

“What is this?!” Matt demanded. “What’s happening? What’s going on?!”

He suddenly reached out, snatching you by the arm.

“I don’t know!” Scott cried. “Y/n, where are you?”

“I’m right here!” 

He reached out, trying to see if he could grab you, but Matt yanked you backward against him. He pressed his gun against your side and forced you out the nearest exit.

Bright yellow emergency lights began to flicker, illuminating the breakroom. Jackson passed you and Matt as you left the room. He was headed right toward Scott. You tried to pull out of his grasp, but he dug his nails into your arm. 

“Scott!” you screamed.

“I’ll have Jackson rip your mom apart next,” he snarled. 

He dragged you through the halls of the station, keeping the gun pressed tightly against your side. The smoke was starting to dissipate now, and the flashing lights ensured that Matt knew where he was going. 

He shoved open a door and hauled you into a darkened garage. The long room was bordered by bay doors on one side. A few desks littered the room, but it was mostly filled with police squad cars or transport vans.

Matt dragged you past tool carts and spare tires, and you struggled not to trip.

“Please, Matt,” you begged. “Just let me go.”

“Shut up!” Matt snapped. He looked around frantically until he spotted a door with a glowing, red exit sign. He pushed you toward it and forced you outside. 

Cool air hit your face as you stepped out into the night, but you didn’t have time to appreciate it. He broke into a run, keeping one hand on your arm as he pulled you further from the building. Panic began to build in your chest.

  A couple hundred yards ahead, the clearing you and Matt were running through ended with a line of trees. There was a small creek running at the edge of it. Farther downstream, a bridge crossed over the water. Matt began to pull you in the opposite direction. 

Suddenly, you stumbled, falling onto your knees in the grass. Matt reached down to haul you up, but when his guard was down, you knocked the gun out of his hand. It landed somewhere in the grass, and he was unable to see where it went in the dark. 

You scrambled onto your feet as Matt felt for the gun in the grass, but when he realized you were running, he abandoned it. 

“No!”

He tackled you to the ground before you could even make it five feet away, and the impact knocked the wind out of you. 

You squirmed, but he quickly pinned you down into the grass. 

“Get off me!” you gasped, but his hands were pressing your wrists into the grass. 

He smiled down at you, but there was an empty look in his eyes. Your heart began to pound even harder against your chest.

“Do you remember when I said that I’m not the type of guy that’s gonna say something like ‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’?”

You writhed under him, but your exhaustion had caught up with you. He was much stronger, and now that he was turning into another kanima, you didn’t have a chance of fighting him off.

Matt didn’t wait for you to respond to him. He just kept talking and grinning down at you with that sick look in his eyes. 

“See, that’s not entirely true,” he mused. “Because, Y/n, if I can’t have you. No one can.”

Then his hands were on your neck, squeezing. You fought him, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. He was going to kill you. 

You reached up, scratching at his hands and wrists. You could feel his skin peeling away under your nails and the warm, wet blood you were drawing. Still, it wasn’t enough. 

Your vision was beginning to cloud. Your attempts to fight him off were growing weaker by the second. All you could think of was Stiles. 

The two of you always seemed to be saving each other in one way or another. This time, you had hoped he would be able to rescue you, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. You knew there was no use in hoping for anything else. 

Instead, you tried to think about something good. As your mind wandered, you thought of Stiles’ honey brown eyes. You thought of the surprise and delight on his face when you said something funny that he hadn’t expected. You remembered the way he had kissed you the night at the rave, his hands warm on your cheeks. 

Everything was beginning to go dark, but you were content. You swore you could hear Stiles’ voice, warm and soothing...and then it was gone. 

You opened your eyes, taking one painful, gasping breath. Matt’s weight was no longer on top of you. You rolled over onto your side, desperately sucking in air as you struggled to lift yourself up into a sitting position in the grass. 

You looked around, wondering what had happened. That was when you saw Matt being dragged down the hill by Gerard Argent, of all people. You didn’t understand what was happening at first, but then, Gerard threw him down into the bed of the creek. 

Gerard waded out until he was knee-deep in the water. Then he grabbed Matt by his t-shirt and thrust his head under water. You watched, horrified, as he drowned him in the creek. 

That was when you ran, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to make sure Gerard wouldn’t follow you. He didn’t even look up. Either he would come after you later, or he just didn’t care.

You sprinted past the bridge, only to have a pair of arms reach out and snatch you back. You opened your mouth to scream, but a hand clamped down over your lips, muffling the sound.

You were pushed up against the side of the bridge, the rough stone scraping against your back. When you saw who had grabbed you, your eyes went wide. It was Peter Hale.

It suddenly crossed your mind that maybe you hadn’t escaped Matt in the clearing. Maybe you were dead. Maybe that was why you were face to face with Peter, whose throat Derek had slashed open last month. 

He held one finger to his lips as he stared down at you, and while you should have been terrified, you had the odd feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“Watch,” he said quietly.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around, forcing you to look back at Matt and Gerard. You could see Matt’s motionless body floating in the water. Gerard was now standing up on the bank of the creek, his clothes still dripping wet. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. It didn’t seem to matter, because what you saw next told you everything you needed to know. 

The Kanima was creeping out from the shadows, wandering toward Gerard on its hands and feet. Instead of running, Gerard lifted one arm and raised his palm. The Kanima moved closer, hesitantly. Then it lifted up one scaly, clawed hand, and touched its palm to Gerard’s.

He was now its master. 

“Go,” Peter urged in your ear. “Tell your brother what you saw.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “Why?”

A smile played at the edge of Peter’s lips. “I have a feeling we’re all on the same team now.”

He let go of your shoulders and you slowly backed away from him, keeping your eyes trained on his shadowy form the entire time. When you were a few yards away, you turned your back and took off running toward the station.

Your chest was burning as you raced back toward Scott and the others. When you pushed open the doors of the station, several officers whirled around and trained their guns on you. You guessed Stiles’ dad had called for backup at some point. 

As you threw up your hands, you were able to see the Sheriff, your mom, and Stiles all standing in the lobby.

“Y/n!” Stiles cried. “Oh thank god.”

The officers lowered their guns, and Stiles rushed over. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. You froze in his arms, not quite sure how to handle his touch. The feeling of being caged against him made your skin crawl. Though you hated to admit it, it reminded you of Matt.

He pulled away suddenly, realizing you weren’t reciprocating. 

“Hey...are-are you okay?”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The lights of the station were too bright, and the sound of the deputies’ boots thumping on the floor caused you to flinch. You didn’t even know where to start.

Stiles watched in shock as you suddenly burst into tears. He wanted to reach out and hold you, but by the way you had just reacted, he was afraid to touch you. 

“Oh, uh…”

Before he could think of anything to say, your mom rushed over and put a hand on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet, Sweetheart.”

She cast a sympathetic glance in Stiles’ direction and led you down the hall. The Sheriff followed after the two of you, no doubt planning to take your statement. Matt was nowhere to be found, and Stiles was willing to bet you knew what happened to him.

He wanted to follow, but he knew if he did, his dad would just kick him out of the room. You were a witness now, and they would need an official statement from you. 

Scott came jogging down the hallway. Stiles realized he must have heard you come back.

By then, the door to the office you had disappeared into was shut. 

Scott headed over to Stiles. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles admitted. “But I don’t think your sister’s okay.”

[mxtantrights]

past lives | 9

a/n: second to last part? idk. maybe I’ll write an epilogue to smooth everything over.

The sight of police cars swarming the outside of the office building sets you off. It couldn't be good, it could never be good in Gotham. You had called in late to finally get a new phone, which you were busy picking up. That was so abysmal at this point.

You basically jumped out of your ride share and the cold air hit you. You ran right up to the front entrance and saw the yellow tape. That sinking feeling began to set in. Something bad happened. Someone bad came here.

The officer keeping a crowd back is the first one you spot. You go up to her and show her your ID badge.

“I work here- can you tell me what happened?” you ask.

She shakes her head, “I can’t give out the details right now but you can come to the station later on.”

“Later on? Is anyone hurt? Can you at least give me that?” 

She looks around at the people behind you before beckoning you closer. You inch over to her.

“As of right now eleven are dead, about a dozen injured.” she says.

You thank her and move towards the back of the growing crowd. Your hand goes into your jacket pocket and you hit speed dial number 2. It rings and rings in your ear but no answer. You try Fallon again.

Some part of you is screaming inside. Eleven dead. Eleven chances that it could be Fallon. Or twelve chances they are injured.

As you hold the phone up to your ear and you hear the ringing in your ear you hear the crowd become more antsy. You turn around to see the reason why and there they are. Fallon walking out with an office, one of the standard gray blankets wrapped around them.

You end the call and ran over to where they are. The officer looks as if they want to block you but Fallon meets you halfway. They don’t extend their arms around you, but you do around them. You can feel them shivering and you know it’s not just the cold.

“Fallon, you’re alright. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” you say.

They start crying in your arms and you hold them tighter. A few moments pass when you hear them mumble something into your shoulder. You have to pull them back from you.

“It was horrible, they just came in and started stabbing people with fancy blades. I had to use Daniel’s body as a shield- my brother told me to do that in case of emergencies. He did that during that bloody bank robbery a few summers ago and-”

You push their head back into your shoulder and they begin sobbing again. And if it we’re for the info they just relayed to you, you would have gotten emotional too. Fancy blades? A lot of people probably have katanas and such in Gotham. But how many of them would target your office?

This was him. This was punishment.

You reach back into your pocket and pull away from Fallon.

“Use my phone to call your brother. Tell him you’re safe.” you say. 

Fallon nods and takes your phone. You watch as they enter the information into your phone and start the call. On the other hand, your eyes are glazing over the crowd to make sure that none of the league’s lackies are hanging around.

It seemed like your past life was done being past tense. It’s not like you thought you could burry it. You knew things like this didn’t stay buried. But you had no idea that it was go about like this. 

If Ra's knows that you and Damian share a father, Bruce is in trouble. Severe trouble. 

Fallon hands you your phone back. 

“He’s a few blocks away, gonna come with me while I go to the station. Nice phone by the way.” they say.

“I can go with you.”

“No, you need to stay here and handle your boss duties or whatever.” 

“Yeah you’re right. Okay.”

“I added my number in there, so call me when you’re done. Be safe.” 

Fallon then walks away from you, back to the officer they left behind. They no doubt had to give up their clothes for evidence. It had blood all over the front. Probably Daniel’s. 

You spotted the clothing store across the street and it seemed to be open. You waited until it was safe to cross before jogging over to the shop. One of the workers met you at the door.

“Hi I need to buy a warm outfit for my friend, she’s gonna need a change of clothes.”

“Of course.” 

The man lets you in and you run over to the first warm thing you see. A knitted black sweater, in Fallon’s size. Then you grab onto what felt like very soft sweatpants in a large. The man was waiting for you at the register. 

The amount wasn’t your focus you simply swiped your card and it went through. Instead of taking the back out to Fallon, you kept it with the worker. You told him that Fallon’s brother would drop by and pick it up.

You left the store as you searched in your bag for the business card. It took a bit but you did find it. When you did you took out your phone as well and put in his number.

Your finger hit dial and it only took one ring for him to pick up.

“Are you okay? I’m watching the news right now.” he asks.

“I’m fine I wasn’t in the office yet. Are you available to meet?”

“Yeah I can come to you, or-”

You weren’t able to get another word in because someone had gotten the best of you. You heard tires screeching and suddenly two black SUVs were in front of you. Before you had a chance to run you felt an electricity shoot through your back. 

It became too much and you felt your body grow weak, and your eyes slowly started to close.

The last thing you saw was a face from your past.

Nyssa.

-

Bruce went into his other mode fairly quickly. He had heard you speaking, what seemed liked cars coming to a screeching halt. And then he heard your phone thud. The call disconnected after that.

He alerted the others to come to the cave. Bruce knew something was happening but he didn’t know exactly what. He knew he was missing some details.

One things certain, Damian’s undercover mission to Gotham academy ended with a fire. Now there’s been a murder spree at your job. It seems like his children are being targeted. Who was next?

He got down to the cave with speed. Already waiting for him was Damian and Tim. The two watched Bruce bypass them and move toward the computers.

“I need cctv of of Gotham Square, around the Wordsworth building.” he said.

Tim jumped into action and was able to pull it up within mere seconds. Damian watched from behind the two of them.

“What’s this about father?”

“It’s about what happened at Gotham academy and now at the Wordsworth building. Someone’s on the attack.” he answered.

Damian wanted to dig for more, “what do those things have to do with one another?”

“Damian I need you to get in contact with Dick and Jason with their ETAs.” Bruce dodged the question.

He didn’t really need confirmation at this point. If his father dodged the question then the answer he’s thinking must be true. Someone got to you. Not someone, his grandfather. So he moved quickly to get to the comms.

Jason called in with a 15 minute ETA. Richard about the same. Damian knew that Jason would get here first though he was reckless with his bike. 

-

Dick got out of his car and ran up the steps to meet the rest of the family.

“I’m here what’s the situation?” 

“A kidnapping.”

“Woah- who is it?” Dick asked.

Bruce gave him a look before answering. “My long lost child.” 

It was at that moment everyone looked, in some shape or form, at Damian. His face hadn’t changed one bit. 

“The writer who interviewed us right?” Jason asked.

Bruce nodded.

“Alright do we have any idea who was behind it?” Dick asked.

Tim raised his hand and led the group over to the monitors. They all gathered around to watch you on the screen. You were on the phone- Bruce had told them it was him- and then the cars came. Before you could even fight off your attacked, you were tasered with a stick. 

They watched you drop your phone and go down on the sidewalk.

“Look who shows up.” Tim said. Then on cue, Nyssa al Ghul comes onto the screen. She picks up your phone and ends the call. Her henchmen lift you up and carry you into one of the SVUs. It’s all effortless after that. The cars drive off onto the main road and take that all the way until there's a blindspot. Like they knew it would be there. 

The cars aren’t seen after that.

“What does the league want with your child Bruce?” Jason asked.

“Leverage? A trade-off? It’s not clear yet.”

“I’ve got cctv footage from the Gotham Academy fire.” Tim said.

Damian watched in real time as the video started playing. And down in the bottom left corner, there he was with you. You shielded him that day. Tim changes the angles and finds another feed and it gets a closer look at the both of you.

Bruce faces Damian, “Do you wanna explain this to us?”

[bluegarners]

“I have your loved one” with Dick and Jason?

heyyy, it's finally here haha! i'm slowly getting to each request lol

here it is on ao3

I Have Your Loved One

It’s Thursday.

Time: 23:47, or 11:47 p.m.

Bludhaven has hit a rough patch in its weather, a vicious storm battering against thin windows and overflowing gutters and drains. It’s one of those storms that brings in the water but no lightning, dark clouds blanketing the entire sky, remorseless and relentless in its pursuit of smothering any light from escaping. The clouds don’t muffle anything though, perhaps amplifying instead the downpour that floods through Bludhaven’s streets and alleyways. Its citizens like to think this is a New Jersey hurricane, freshly mutated and traveled from the east coast into their humble, mildew covered city.

Dick likes the rain. Likes the way it pounds against his apartment, screaming to be let in but just barely warded off by seven inches of concrete and steel. The blinds are closed against the windows, and he has towels pushed up against the sills just in case the sealing lets up. Even if they were open, Dick is sure all he would see is another wall of gray and black, dozens of delicate raindrops splattered against his windows.

Because of the storm currently wreaking havoc in his city, Dick has elected to stay indoors for the time being. Eventually, the rain will let up, its pattern being close to about 05:00, and then he’ll suit up and do a quick patrol before work. For now, he’s content with sitting on his couch and listening to the water smack against the old building and run rivers down the sides. He’d like to sleep through it, a free white noise service at the ready, but his mind simply refuses to allow him to rest just yet. In a few hours, he’s sure he’ll come to hate himself for not taking NyQuil or some other drug to help him fall asleep, but for now… Well, it’s nice. The rain is nice. It’s also very loud.

He misses the first call.

His phone is face down on the kitchen table, about eight feet away from where he lays on the couch, mindlessly staring up at the ceiling. It vibrates, buzzing for thirty seconds, before falling silent.

He misses the second call too.

Thunder rumbles through the black sky, its force shaking the windows and only encouraging the downpour. His phone buzzes again during it, quieting after another thirty seconds.

Dick hears the third call. Hears the tail-end of the buzzing, getting up from his position on the couch and padding over to pick up his phone only to miss the last few seconds. He unlocks his phone, checking the number, and feels something cold settle into his gut when he sees no caller ID. It’s the same person though, all three times, but no voicemail.

He’s about to call the number back, just in case it’s someone he knows and they’re ringing from a payphone or something else, when the no caller ID flashes across his screen for the fourth time.

Dick answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Richard Grayson?”

“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”

The voice is feminine, a slight, western accent, longer o’s and a faint drawl. Somewhere from Arizona most likely. Lower register too. Older woman, mid-to-late fifties. Smoker.

“That’s good. I was starting to think I had the wrong number, Richard.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t have my phone on me. You didn’t say earlier, but who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter too much right now. What does matter, though, is this.”

She pauses. There’s shuffling he can hear on the other side. A faint, second voice in the background. No, three voices. At least two others in the room with the woman. He can hear the sounds of an air condition unit rattling.

“I think you might’ve cut off there. What were—”

“I have your loved one, Richard.”

Lightning cracks through Bludhaven.

His stomach falls onto the floor, pooling around his ankles. The storm outside grinds to a halt, the quiet louder than any thunder it’s ever managed to produce, and there’s a high pitched ringing reverberating inside his skull. Dick thinks he might be sick.

“What?” he chokes, the air in the room suffocating and weighing down his lungs. “What did you say?”

“I have your loved one,” the woman repeats, calm and slow. “Your brother, actually. Then again, he tells me you aren’t related by name nor blood, so we’ll settle for a loved one.”

“What do you want?” Dick demands, already scrambling to get to his computer, find where they’ve taken Jason. Find his brother.

“He did say you weren’t one for small talk,” the woman carries on, unhurried and unconcerned. “Your brother isn’t either, hardly said a word all this time.”

“Can I speak to him?”

There’s a small huff on the other end of the call, exhalation and a sigh leaving the woman’s mouth. A cigarette. She’s smoking during this conversation, blowing the smoke into the receiver.

“I don’t know,” she finally answers. There. Dick has his general location. Still in Gotham. He needs the tracker to be more precise though. It’s taking time though. Too much. “Your brother here was pretty convinced you wouldn’t answer after his daddy didn’t pick up. Cried pretty hard about it too.”

“What are you talking about?” Dick grounds out, fearing his phone will crack with how tightly he’s gripping it.

“Well, you weren’t our first choice to call, Richard. I’m sure you understand.”

Dick says nothing, focused on the computer screen in front of him. He should contact Barbara. This would be faster with her. Faster to find Jason.

“We called about seven times,” the woman continues, blowing another puff of smoke out into the phone. “Isn’t that right, boy? We called and called and called. His daddy didn’t pick up once, went straight to voicemail each time. A shame, really.”

There’s a sniffle on the other side of the call and Dick’s heart seizes when he realizes it’s probably Jason.

Batman was currently off-world, all communication with him being strictly between Justice League lines. Bruce Wayne was somewhere in the Bahamas, partying with Italian models and Spanish actresses.

Of course he wouldn’t pick up.

“Can I please talk to him?” Dick asks for the second time, fisting a hand into the couch cushions. “Please, I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

More smoke. “I’ll ask him.”

There’s a muffled thud, the phone most likely having been put down, and quiet voices filter through the line. He can’t hear much of what they’re saying, short bursts of comprehensible syllables before fading back to unintelligible noises. His computer dings with a response from Barbara. She’s going to use one of the J.L satellites to better pin-point Jason’s location. She’s also in communication with the police, reporting a child-abduction.

Keep them talking, she writes. Everything is going to be okay, Dick.

It feels like his heart is beating in his throat and his tongue has swollen to the size of a bowling ball. The storm outside is unrelenting. Lightning hasn’t struck again.

There’s more movement on the other side, clattering and scattered noises. The phone’s been picked up.

“Alright,” the woman says, raspy and uncaring. “The boy says he wants to talk to you, Richard.”

Dick holds his breath, waiting. There’s more noises, a transfer he thinks, and another sniffle interrupts it.

“Hello?” a shaky voice asks into the receiver. Dick feels like crying.

“Jason,” he breathes. “We’re going to get you out of there, alright? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” his brother rattles, a sob latching onto the end. “I’m so sorry, Dick. I-I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Dick shushes, feeling himself get choked up at the fear in the younger boy’s voice. “I know you didn’t, bud. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not really. I didn’t think you were gonna pick up,” he admits, voice cracking. “B-Bruce didn’t. He didn’t answer, Dick, and I-I thought you weren’t gonna either. I-I thought—”

“I’ll always answer, Jason, I promise. I’m coming for you, okay? I’m going to come get you and we’ll both go home together. Does that sound good, Jay? You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay,” the thirteen year old relents. “You promise though, right? You’re not gonna leave me here?”

“No, Jay, of course not. I’m not going to leave you there, I’m coming to get you. Right now. I promise, okay? Jason, I would never abandon you. You’re my kid-brother and I love you. I’m not going to-”

“As touching as this is,” the woman interrupts, “I think that’s enough.”

“Put Jason back on the phone,” Dick snarls. “I swear, if you lay a hand on him, if you even touch him, I will end you.”

“Sure, honey,” the woman drawls, puffing into the receiver. “Here’s what’s going to happen, so I want you to listen to me.”

His computer dings. It’s Barbara. She’s got the location. It’s close. Not even twenty minutes away. Border between Bludhaven and Gotham. Motel next to the gas station connecting the freeways. Room 13.

He’s out the door and revving up his motorcycle before the woman has even taken a second drag from her cigarette. The rain is beating against him, gloomy street lights flickering through the shrouded dark of the storm. Thank god for Bludhaven sewers, only slightly better than Gotham’s. The water level is only a few millimetres high.

“Now, I don’t want to keep this kid anymore than you want him to stay here with me,” the woman drones. The streets are empty. Dick blows through every red light he comes across. The tires are new, the grip is fine. “So, I think we can make this simple.”

“What do you want?” Dick growls, transferring the call into his helmet. He prays she can’t hear the rain battering against it. “Just tell me what you want already and I’ll give it to you.”

“Don’t rush me,” the woman snaps, and it is then that Dick realizes that this is all probably by chance. This isn’t some criminal mastermind who plotted to find and kidnap the son of a billionaire. This isn’t a case of a rogue villain piecing together vague details and figuring out Batman and company’s identities. It’s simply someone desperate. Someone who saw the opening and took it. The poor planning is evident, practically spelled out in bold print that these people have no real idea what they’re doing.

“Sorry,” Dick bites out, veering through a short-cut that says, in neon orange, Danger. Construction Zone. “Please continue.”

The woman on the line is vindictive though, choosing to remain quiet as the sound of a lighter clicking open tinnies through the call. She takes her time lighting a new cigarette, taking a long, slow drag and holding it in for a few seconds. Dick jerks his bike to the right, narrowly avoiding a large pothole. A passing car blares its horn at him. Finally, the woman exhales. He can hear Jason cough in the background.

“What I want,” she starts, a new color of intrigue hitting the back of her throat. He’s barely ten minutes away now. Could probably half it if he took more backstreets and increased his speed. “Is for my son to be released from prison.”

“Who is your son?” Dick asks, cursing silently as his back tire skids, hydro-planing for a moment. Thunder crashes above him and the rain continues to pelt at his body. It feels like getting hit with a paint-ball gun.

“Landon Jennings. I want you to get him released. I know you have the access to lawyers, probably have debts owed to you from people in high places. I want him released tonight.”

Time: 00:14.

01:14 a.m standard time.

“I can do that,” Dick says, heart beating faster as he sees the sign for the motel, dim in the gray, “but I’ll need a few hours. I need to contact my lawyers. Where is your son stationed?”

An icon appears in the front of his digitized visor. It’s Barbara. She sees him closing in. Police are on route. Seven minutes out. He has the option to wait on them and keep the kidnappers on the line.

“Same place they all go,” the woman barks. “Use that head of yours and figure it out. I want my son out by tonight, or you’re not going to see your brother again. And,” she rushes, “I don’t want the police involved. If you call them, I’ll know, you understand? I don’t want to hurt the kid, but I’m not scared to. My husband is here with me too, so if you try and—”

Okay, so waiting isn’t an option. He’s going in.

“No police,” Dick interrupts. “I understand. Please, don’t hurt him.”

“If you just do what you’re told, then I won’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Dick whispers, gently getting off of his bike and leaving it on the side of the road. He can’t chance them seeing him pulling into the motel lot. “You said your son’s name was Landon? If you don’t mind me asking, what is he charged with?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Dick jogs towards the motel, careful to stay out of direct light. The general office looks closed. Most of the windows facing the lot are shielded by salmon colored curtains. There’s only one floor, thankfully. Dick sees door 13. He’s shaking. His fingers are numb.

“My lawyers said they need to know in order to file for a judge to repeal his sentence.”

“Is that so?” the woman asks, suspicion tailing her voice. She takes a drag from her cigarette, contemplating. Dick’s clothes are soaking wet and he cringes every time his shoes squelch against the concrete. He decides crawling is best, ducking under windows and avoiding peepholes. “Fine then. Landon got falsely accused of statutory rape and breaking and entering. Is that what your damn lawyers are looking for?”

“Yes,” Dick breathes. He’s at door 10. He can see a faint glow coming from behind the curtains of room 13. He’s so close. “Thank you.”

He taps on the side of his helmet, sending a series of numbers that he’s sure Barbara will understand.

23-26-8-37

E-N-T-R

He can’t wait any longer.

While crawling, Dick made sure to get a good look at the motel’s doors and hinges. They’re standard, and though both Gotham and Bludhaven tend to have better locks than most other cities, Dick recognizes the model of the door and the wood it’s made out of. They’re thin enough for him to ram through. The hinges on the sides are rusted over as well, and Dick thinks they might just be weak enough to break. The windows however. The windows are his best bet. He doubts this kind of motel invests in bullet proof glass, and on some of the sills, he can see water damage. They leak. Poorly made. Meaning, if he ran at them, he could break through pretty easily.

But, if that doesn’t work. Or if he’s not fast enough to get on his feet once in. Or if the window is directly in front of Jason and the glass breaks all over him. Or if—

Stop. He can’t think about the what-ifs right now. Dick knows he can do this. Knows how to do this. There isn’t any more time to wait. He promised he would get Jason out of there, and goddamnit, he’s going to keep his promise.

“You’re being really quiet,” the woman mutters. “What’s going—”

Dick takes a deep breath and tenses. The light behind the curtain flickers. He needs to move. Now. Now.

Lightning splits across the sky and Dick can’t tell if it’s the glass shattering or the thunder that makes the other-worldly crack but it doesn’t matter because Dick lands feet first and is tucking and rolling before the occupants have a chance to react.

“Oh my god!” someone screams, but Dick isn’t paying attention to them because his gaze zeroes in on his brother, tiny, thirteen year old Jason, who’s tied up on one of the beds and staring right at him.

He can’t linger long though because he hears the words, “Get the gun!”, and he’s up on his feet again, rushing the closest person. It turns out to be the husband, a balding man with a patchy neck-beard, and Dick bunches up his fist and swings, socking the man in the stomach. He doubles over, wheezing, and Dick can see the small pistol in the man’s right hand, and Dick strikes down on his shoulder, kneeing him simultaneously. The pistol drops and so does the man, groaning, and Dick turns to the woman, who is staring at him like an animal cornered.

“Don’t come any closer!” she yells, pocket knife trembling in her grip as she shoves it in Jason’s face. “I’ll stab him, I will!”

Dick holds up his hands, sidestepping the groaning man. “Put the knife down.”

“No!” the woman argues, a strand of black hair falling into her mouth. “Now I told you- stay there! Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill this kid, you hear! I’ll fucking slice his throat open!”

With how scared the woman is, and how precarious she holds the pocket knife, which Dick can see is dull even from where he’s standing, he knows it’s not an idle threat. Scared people will do anything to get out of the situation they’re in. Scared people are unpredictable and dangerous.

But so is Dick.

So is Jason.

“I’m not going to move,” Dick reassures, eyes flickering towards his brother, “so, please, drop the knife. We can talk this out.”

“Talk?” the woman shrills, jerking the knife closer to Jason’s jawline. “You just killed my husband!”

“I didn’t kill him,” Dick corrects. “He’s just unconscious. Come on now. It’s just you and me. Let’s talk this over. I can still get Landon out if you give me back my brother. It’s as easy as that, alright? Just put down the knife, and we’ll talk. Does that sound okay?”

The woman looks like she’s considering it, the hand holding the knife still trembling, when the first sirens enter the lot. Red and blue light flash through the broken window as rain seeps into the curtains.

“You rat!” she screams, furious and terrified and desperate all at once. “You fucking called the cops! You broke—”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish before Jason snaps his head back, headbutting the woman directly in the nose. He falls to the side, getting out of range of the knife, and Dick takes his cue, leaping forwards and gripping the woman’s wrist and squeezing, weapon falling from her grasp. There’s blood spurting from her nose and Dick throws her to the floor, getting her on her stomach and hands behind her back. He sits on top of her, his weight overpowering any strength she has left, and in the next few seconds, police are banging on the door.

“This is the GCPD! Open up and put your weapons down!”

“You can come in!” Dick shouts, holding the squirming woman in place. “We’re unarmed!”

Things happen quickly after the door bangs open, several officers pouring in like the Bludhaven storm. As soon as an officer handcuffs the woman he’s on top of, Dick is rushing to Jason’s side, another officer cutting away his bindings. His younger brother turns to him, about to say something, but Dick cuts him off with a crushing hug, cradling the back of Jason’s head to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick whispers, gathering his brother more fully into his arms. “I should’ve been there sooner. God, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

“I-I thought you weren’t going to come for me,” Jason confesses, hiccuping. “When Bruce didn’t pick up, I thought it was because he didn’t want me anymore. I-I told her that, I told her Bruce wasn’t coming but she wouldn’t listen and-and I—”

Dick wraps his arms more securely around the sobbing preteen in response, gently rocking back and forth as the mattress springs squealed under the pressure.

“I know I haven’t always been around,” he says, uncaring about the snot dribbling into his shirt, “and I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t rely on me to come and get you. You’re my brother, though, and I will always come running when you call. No matter what. I promise, Jay. Anywhere, anytime, I promise I’ll be there. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jason wheezes, the adrenaline from before slowly releasing its hold. “I trust you.”

Dick presses his face into his brother’s hair, relief washing over him as his heart slows. He’s never had a sibling before. Things were still tense with Bruce, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a big brother. There isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for this kid in his arms right now.

“What’re brothers for, right?” he mumbles.

The rain doesn’t stop and pours and pours and pours. Dick just holds Jason tighter.

The real storm was over.

Five months later

It’s Thursday.

Time: 11:47 a.m.

The stone is nice. White marble. Shiny. Expensive.

There are fresh flowers. Roses and yellow daisies. The dirt is still new too. Evidence of freshly upturned earth. Dick reaches down and pulls out a weed that’s sprung up at the corner of the stone. Tosses it away.

He doesn’t have flowers. He has a newspaper in his left hand. Reads: Mourning billionaire sets off on trip to Europe.

Jason died a month before he got back from across the universe.

Anywhere, he had said. Anytime. I promise I’ll be there.

He crumples the newspaper into a tight ball and shoves it into his pocket. Stares at the stone. The sun is out. There are no clouds in the sky. It’s nice.

It’s a nice day.

“Fuck,” Dick mutters, a familiar burn in the back of his eyes. “Fuck.”

Anywhere, anytime.

Dick Grayson is an only child once again.

[streaksofpurple]

Promotion

The reader gets a promotion and tells Yoongi...in a clumsy way.

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

The moment you park your car, you are practically running towards the apartment the members of BTS share. You came over straight after work, brimming with glee. While moving forward, you attempt to retrieve your ID but the guard near the front of the building complex recognizes you and waves you through with no problems.

You make your way to the unit in record time and knock furiously on the front door. Seconds later Jungkook grabs the knob and swings the door open, immediately standing back from the entrance inviting you in. “Hey! What are you doing here?!”

“JK!” Your voice is high and your grin is wide - it is very obvious that you are elated. Jungkook finds himself grinning back, not yet knowing the reason but your energy is contagious. 

You clap your hands near your chest and jump up and down as you promptly tell him the news: “I got the promotion!”

“That’s great!” He starts bouncing with you, making a dance of it, swinging his shoulders and hips. You have been around all the guys enough over the last year and they knew you were in contention for this position, so his excitement was genuine.

“Thanks! I’m thrilled about it! I gotta tell Yoongs.” The moment you finish your sentence, you’re off in a mad dash towards your boyfriend's room to relay the news.

“Yeah he’ll want to hea-” Jungkook stops mid-sentence as he remembers something important, his doe eyes widening in fear “WAIT!” 

But by the time he yells for you, you are out of eyesight. He bolts after you, hoping to catch you before you find your target.

You reach Yoongi’s room faster than lightning. The open door gives you the ability to quickly peek inside, realizing he isn’t there. Less than a blink later and you are off running again, your overall excitement giving you boundless energy and now an adrenaline rush from your tiny manhunt.

Since you got inside the residence, you noticed he wasn’t in an open area: kitchen, main room; patio so your last thought is the soundproof room the guys often recorded in.

Your legs are zealous as you once again make haste to your destination and fling the door open “Yoongs guess what?! I go---” You pump the brakes upon your admission into the room, having to grab the door frame from falling forward fully into the web camera's view. You have barged in on Yoongi recording a Live and he’s now watching you through the monitor. Your lips purse and widen your eyes, looking just like a kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

“Sorry I didn’t kno-”

While you were quick enough to stop yourself, Jungkook is not. The full speed and momentum he has built up from chasing you around the apartment abruptly crashes into the back of your form, knocking you both into the room. The two of you propel forward into the wall before toppling over onto each other on the floor.

Yoongi sits in silence, watching the scene behind him on the computer screen. You and the Golden Maknae are groaning and rubbing your affected body parts.

You are holding your wrist to your chest, grimacing at Jungkook. “Think you broke my wrist, dork.” He didn’t of course, but your wrist hit the wall first and it did hurt. Just like Kookie’s head, which had hit the floor first before the rest of him.

He’s rubbing his head apologetically and to alleviate the pain, slowly getting up. “I was going to tell you Suga-hyung was doing a Live.”

You hold out your palm highlighting the scene in front of the two of you - the scene being Yoongi at the computer desk with the camera on, monitors up and comments rolling so fast it would take a superhuman to read them. “I can see that,” you answer sarcastically. 

Yoongi is still watching from the screen, not acknowledging you or the now millions of people who were undoubtedly trying to focus on the events unfolding behind him. He was simply letting the scene run it’s course.

“We should celebrate later,” Jungkook casually suggests, either not remembering or not the least bit concerned with interrupting Yoongi.

“If you guys don’t have anything planned...Let’s get dinner!” You agree with a smile while taking the hand Jungkook offers to help you up off the floor.

“If you idiots don’t mind,” Yoongi finally speaks up in a vexed voice, wanting to get back to his Live.

Jungkook chuckles to himself, used to Yoongi’s comments, and starts re-rolling the sleeves of his shirt back up as they’d come down in his pursuit of you.

“Hey, this idiot just got promoted, thank you,” Your response is swift, reminiscent of the hectic energy you contained just minutes ago.

Your boyfriend spun around in his chair, wanting to congratulate you face to face and not on a digital screen. His expression softens when his eyes locate yours. “Really?! That’s great! I knew you were going to get it.”

“You told me to prepare for failure, Yoongs.”

“In case you didn’t get it,” he defends “I didn’t want you getting upset. I know you worked hard for this.”

You can't help but lovingly smile at the soft tone he had taken and his sudden wave of kindness. He knows more than the others how hard you tried to make a name for yourself. Many times he’d come home late and you were still awake, reeling from your day's efforts, or studying, or wondering if your undertaking of extra tasks would ever pay off.

You shake off your affectionate thoughts when you realize he is still recording. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Did you share the song with them yet?” He finished a demo recently and told you one night he was going to share it on Live, unfortunately he didn’t tell you when.

“Was just about to hit play.”

“Okay, we’re leaving.” You quickly point at Yoongi, remembering to give him both an invitation and a demand: “Dinner later, mister.” He nods his confirmation at once.

“Sorry guys!” You yell into the general direction of the desk not sure where the mic you’re raising your voice for even is. Jungkook mouths a “Sorry” as well and you both wave quickly at the reflections of yourself on the screen, dismissing yourselves. Your hand finds the younger man's bicep, him already having caught on and leading you two out of the recording room.

“Proud of you,” Yoongi whispers as the door closes and he spins his chair back around, once again facing his forgotten audience.

He waits for the blush to leave his face, trying to regain composure before speaking again. He glances over at the comments, coming in by the page full, before staring at the camera, resuming his broadcast. “Hopefully you guys will enjoy this track as much as you enjoyed that…”

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Hope // Jay Halstead x Reader

Description: Jay and Reader get kidnapped for all the wrong reasons. 

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Rape/Sexual Assault

Words: 3363

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader

“Can you tell me what he looked like?” you asked the scared woman who was laying in the hospital bed, knees pulled to her chest as she hugged them close. The bruises were already starting to form on her face and arms, knowing there were more that were scattered and hidden under the gown. You’d kicked everybody else out, leaving just you and her to talk about what happened to her. It was the least you could do to make her feel more comfortable, a little more safe after everything she’d been through. 

You hated these cases with a burning fire. Nobody should have to go through what this girl went through, should have to suffer with knowing it happened for the rest of their life. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right to have that part of you violated in such a violent way, to be forced to give a piece of yourself over. 

“He was tall,” she told you meekly. “A little taller than your partner that was in here earlier. A little younger though.” You could see the tears brimming in her eyes, voice shaking as she held onto herself a little tighter. “White. Blonde hair. But...his eyes are cold. Every time I close my eyes I can see that stare.”

“We’re gonna find him and we’re going to put him away for a long time,” you assured her, gently resting your hand on her forearm. A part of you was surprised she didn’t pull away, instead looking at you.

“It was his eyes, Detective,” she told you again, voice almost a whisper. “Like he has no soul. My momma always told me you can tell who a man is through his eyes. He isn’t a man though. He’s a monster.” 

“Focus on getting you better, Tanya. We’ll focus on getting him,” you told her before standing up, leaving her to her own thoughts. 

Jay was waiting for you in the hallway, arm draping across your shoulders to pull you closer. You could feel him press a kiss to your temple as you sighed, hating these cases. 

“She’s just a kid,” you finally said softly once the two of you were safely in his truck, away from prying ears. “She’s fifteen, Jay. And this is something that she’s going to carry with her for the rest of her life.” 

“That’s why we’re going to find him. So that way she knows he won’t hurt anybody else. And she’ll be able to live her life with that small assurance,” he reminded you, squeezing your hand. “Starbuck?” You just nodded, staring out the window. You hated these cases. 

-----

“We’ve got a hit from the pod footage,” Adam announced two days later, your head snapping up from the computer screen. 

You didn’t register your own movements until you stood behind him, staring at the man on the screen. Tanya wasn’t wrong. He looked to be slightly taller than Jay, mid-to-late twenties, dirty blonde hair. You couldn’t see his eyes, though. There was something that caught you by surprise. A second offender walking next to him, seeming to talk to him. The footage was from ten minutes before Tanya was attacked, piecing it all together. 

“And better yet, we have an ID on him,” Adam added, scooting back. You had to side-step out of his way as he grabbed the photograph off his desk, plastering it on the whiteboard. “Zachary Wells, twenty-eight, one prior for assault and battery, did two years. And his buddy. Connor Woodcock, thirty-one. No prior convictions, but he has a long sheet of allegations of sexual misconduct since he was a teenager. The two went to high school together.” 

Now that you looked at the pictures, you understood what Tanya was saying about Zachary’s eyes. The picture they had was his mug-shot from when he was arrested. There wasn’t something right about to look in his eyes. 

“Do we have a LOA for either of them?” Jay asked, perched on the corner of his desk as he twirled the pen in his hand, staring at the pictures. 

“52nd and South Ellis.” Adam had barely gotten the words out by the time you had your jacket in your hands, walking down to the car. With you back turned, you didn’t see the look that Adam and Jay shared, one of worry and concern. Yet, Jay still followed you downstairs without a word. 

-----

“Look who’s finally waking up,” you heard someone coo next to you, fingers tracing along your collarbone. 

The ringing in your ears was finally dying down, vision coming into focus. You could feel the digging pain of zip-ties around your wrists behind your back as you struggled against their hold before realizing it was pointless. You couldn’t figure out what was happening until you focused on the touch against your skin. It wasn’t Jay, that much you were certain of. It felt wrong, fingers more calloused than your boyfriend’s. He smelled of liquor and sweat, and when you finally looked at him, you truly understood what Tanya was telling you. There was nothing behind his eyes, no soul it seemed. 

“Leave her alone,” Jay groaned, your head whipping over to look at him. 

Blood dripped down from a gash at his hair-line, shoulders slumped as he looked over at you. When your eyes met, you knew it was bad. You had no idea how long you’d been there, and weren't sure if you were at a secondary location or the same house you’d rolled up to to question Connor and Zachary. 

“How about you keep your mouth shut?” Zachary snapped, pushing himself up to walk over to Jay. 

A fist met a face, hearing the distinct crack and a groan of pain. Just hearing the contact made you wince, knowing it had to have hurt. Zachary took one more look at you before going up the stairs. You could vaguely make out the sounds of him talking to someone, but couldn’t make out the words.

“Jay? Jay are you okay?” you asked, concerned by his lack of movement and the blood gushing from his now-most-likely-broken nose. 

“Ugh, yeah. Yeah. How are you?” he countered. Always the gentleman, always wanting to make sure you were okay. 

“I’d be better if I wasn’t zip tied.” You heard him groan again, this time with a bit of a chuckle behind it. “How long was I out?”

“I came to about twenty minutes before you did. I don’t think they moved us, so it shouldn’t be too long before the team realizes we’re gone.” You couldn’t help but nod, hope creeping back in just a tiny bit. “Do you think…?” He didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to understand what he was asking. 

“No. No, nothing,” you assured. This time, Jay was the one to nod. “How did this even happen?” 

“No idea. Just...let’s hope the team realizes we’re gone sooner than later.” 

You didn’t know what else to say, letting your eyes drift shut. Your head was pounding, but that was the only other ache despite your wrists. The only way you could think that it all happened was that they managed to get the drop on you guys when you knocked on the door. It was the last thing you remembered, knocking on the door. 

“Y/N!” Jay whispered in a harsh voice, bringing you back to the world of the living. Your eyes fluttered open, looking around the dimly lit basement. Your eyes met his, worry and concern more evident than before. Blood was caked on his face, mostly dried by that point. 

“It’s going to be okay, Jay,” you assured him, hearing heavy boots coming down the stairs, though you didn’t believe it yourself.

Fear rose as bile in the back of your throat, swallowing it down as Zachary and Connor came into view. You didn’t say anything, didn’t think you could as you tried to anticipate what was about to happen. There had to be a way you could disconnect from it before it happened, had to be a way to make sure it didn’t affect you like it seemed to with Tanya and probably the countless other girls they’d assaulted. 

“Just look at me,” Jay instructed as he caught your eye. A part of you could only hope that they at least took you upstairs, that Jay wouldn’t have to watch this. 

“She’s a lot prettier up close, that’s for sure,” Connor told his friend, kneeling in front of you, roughly grabbing your chin with one hand, turning your head to look at him. “We’re gonna have our fun with you. A lot of fun.”

“Get your fucking hands off her!” Jay snapped. Connor didn’t loosen his grip, if anything he held you tighter in a bruising grip. 

“What do you think, Zach? Think we should make him watch? Maybe that’ll put him in his place, make him realize who the boss actually is,” Connor continued, voice steady as you stared into his equally empty eyes.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Connor.” Your heart dropped, knowing they weren’t going to take you upstairs. Zach walked over to Jay, roughly grabbing him by his hair, keeping him facing you. 

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Jay told you with as much of a nod as he could considering Zach was giving him little room to move. “I’m right here. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Gagged or ungagged, that’s the question. I mean, nobody’s gonna hear you besides us,” Connor mused, mostly to himself. “It’s always a shame we have to gag them. I mean it’s fun to hear them beg and scream, though that just fuels the desire...the-the need.” 

“You’re a fucking sicko,” you spat at him, though it didn’t phase him. 

“Oh now, sweetheart,” he continued calmly, “that’s no way to talk to me.” 

You could feel his hot breath on your face before his lips were against yours, rough and wet. You wanted to gag at the contact, almost did. Yet you didn’t, letting him do whatever he wanted. Fighting it...fighting him as much as you wanted...You couldn’t. Not with Zach standing right over Jay. The thought crossed your mind, yet you knew that if you tried to fight then they might kill Jay. Sacrificing everything was better than sacrificing him. 

The cool blade of a knife was against your skin, cutting your shirt and bra along the middle as Connor pulled his mouth away from yours. Jay was struggling against his binds, against Zach’s hold, yet he was getting nowhere. 

“It’s okay, Jay,” you assured him, repeating his own words. “I’m gonna be okay.” 

“This is going to be even more interesting,” Connor said, hands sliding up your exposed stomach and chest. “Do you see what I see, Zach?”

“What do you see, Connor?” his friend answered, grip tightening in Jay’s hair. 

“These two...they love each other.” He leaned close to your ear, whispering his next words. “Once I’m done with you, sweetheart,” he said softly, you being the only one able to hear him. “He’s never going to want to touch you again. He’s going to leave you far behind. Because I’m going to have my way with you. And he’s going to know that I was the one that made you feel good. Not him.” 

“If you’re gonna do it, then do it,” you replied, looking him in the eye with as much bravery you could muster. “Because it doesn’t matter what you do to me. You’ll never break me. Because you’re a coward! Weak and pathetic.” 

You barely processed the sting of the slap across your face before he pushed you down on your back. The uncomfortable pressure on your shoulders from your hands still being zip-tied behind you caused you to cry out in pain, knowing your joints weren’t supposed to move that way. This time, you listened to what Jay had told you, keeping your eyes on his. 

Connors hands were on your skin, hearing the distinct sound of a belt unbuckling. The rustle of jeans being pushed down. The bile rose again, willing it down. Willing it away. If only you could will your emotions off. But you couldn’t. As much as you wanted to detach from this situation, to just not be there, you were. And you were going to have to live with it for the rest of your life. Like Tanya. Like every other man and woman who had been forced into this situation. 

And for the first time, you understood why they acted the way they did. You understood why Tanya sat on that hospital bed with her knees to her chest. Why she didn’t want Jay in the room. Because Connor and Zach stole something from her that day. They stole her peace of mind, the idea that she could ever be safe again. 

His lips were on your neck now, seeming to savor his time. He figured he had all the time in the world, treating you like his own play-thing. His actions were calculated, none of them rushed as you felt his erection rub along your still clothed leg. The one thing you would never be able to understand was how people got off on this? What was so satisfying about forcing somebody into sex? 

Tears welled in your eyes, rolling down your cheek. Jay sat stiff as a statue, the only indication he was alive was his gaze meeting yours and the sharp rise and fall of his chest with each breath. 

“It’s okay,” you told him again, voice shaking as you did so, bottom lip quivering. Quickly, you took it between your teeth, trying to calm yourself down. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Connor told you with a soft moan as his hands found the buckle of your pants, making quick work. 

You’d lost that hope you’d been holding onto as he pushed the fabric of your jeans down your legs. The team may find you, but it would be too late. Everything would be different. Until you heard the sound of someone forcefully breaching the front door. As soon as you heard it, you knew it was going to be okay. 

“Help!” you screamed before Connor’s hands were around your throat. You didn’t want them wasting time searching the rest of the house before going to the basement. You didn’t want them wasting any time in getting him off you. Your vision swam again, this time the darkness began creeping in on the edges of your vision before it all went dark. 

-----

“How you feelin’?” Hank asked you when you opened your eyes again.

No longer were you in the cold, musty basement of that house, waking to find yourself in a hospital bed. Your body ached, memories flooding back. Yet, the first thing you asked wasn’t about you.

“Where’s Jay?” you countered, sitting up slightly and wincing at the pain in your shoulders.

“He’s here. A couple rooms over with a broken nose. He’s gonna be okay. Now, back to my original question. How you feelin’?”

“Like I got hit by a truck, Voight. My shoulders more than anything. Did he…?” Voight quickly shook his head no. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. 

“We got there just in time,” he assured you. “They both resisted so they might have found themselves with a couple bullet wounds of their own. Let’s just say, Kim’s a better shot than we might have previously thought. Connor isn’t going to have enough use to hurt anybody else.” Of course it would be Kim to shoot a rapist in the dick. 

“Good. When can I go home?”

“The doc said you should be good to go tonight. I figured you’d want to leave with Jay when they finished bandaging him up.” You nodded in agreement, hoping it wouldn’t be too long. All you wanted was to take a shower. “I’m giving the two of you two weeks off to heal. And I don’t just mean physically, Y/N. You’ve been through a lot today. Talk to someone about it.”

“I will. Has anybody told Tanya?” A part of you hoped they hadn’t, wanting to be the one to tell her. Yet, you wouldn’t be upset if somebody else did. 

“Yeah. Kim let her know after the medics brought you and Jay in. Get some rest. Call if you need anything.” You nodded again as he left the room, leaving you to your own thoughts. 

-----

It was a little over three hours later that you and Jay were walking into your apartment. Will had brought you some clothes from your house, knowing the clothes you’d worn to work were ruined. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you stepped into the safety of your own home. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” you told Jay softly, brushing your fingers against his arm before walking away. 

The feeling of the hot water on your skin was soothing, yet you wanted to scrub every trace of Connor off you. You wanted to get rid of the feeling of him touching you, of his lips on your skin, of his breath on your face. You wanted to get rid of all the memories of that basement. You didn’t want to have to remember any of it. Yet, it was one of those days that were going to be plastered in your mind for the rest of your life. 

When you left the shower, your skin was raw and red and stinging. Yet, the stinging feeling overpowered the feeling of his touch. You got dressed in sweatpants and one of Jay’s t-shirts before joining Jay in bed, letting your head rest on his chest as his arms wrapped tightly around you. As much as you didn’t want to, tears came to your eyes as you cried, letting the pent up emotions flow out of you. 

“You’re okay,” Jay whispered softly into your ear as he held you tight. “You’re home. You’re safe.” He kept repeating those three phrases over and over until you started to believe him. Your sobs died down into sniffles until you no longer had the energy or the will to cry. 

“When he whispered in my ear,” you told Jay, voice cracking still despite your lack of tears. “He told me you’d never want to touch me again because you would have known he was able to make me feel good.” 

“I’m with you, no matter what, Y/N,��� he corrected. “I know he didn’t get that far, but even if he had, I’m with you. Through thick and thin. Nothing that ever happens to you will ever change that, I promise.” 

“How can you promise, Jay?” Genuine confusion evident in your voice.

“Because I love you too much to blame you or judge you when it comes to things you have no control over. Because I’ve known since the day we met that you were going to be a big part of my life, no matter what. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Nothing can change any of it. Kidnappings, shootings, assaults. You’re still the girl I fell in love with.” You looked up at him, seeing a soft smile on his face. You tried not to focus on the bruising around his eyes from the broken nose, or the busted lip. 

“I wished they would have taken me upstairs...when we heard them coming down. So that way you wouldn’t have had to watch any of it,” you admitted. 

“I’m glad they didn’t.” Your brows furrowed, letting him talk. “I didn’t want you to have to go through it alone. I wanted you to know that I was there for you.” You couldn’t help but let out a shaking breath, gently cupping his cheek as you kissed him softly. 

It felt right. Like the two of you fit together perfectly. Nothing like Connor and his forceful, rushed actions. No. This kiss -- you knew -- was full of love and understanding. And you knew for sure that nothing that happened to either of you was ever going to change that.  

@babi-correia​

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Wip Wednesday

Untitled Fic (Correspondence)

Summary/Story so far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together – until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. This goes on for months, their tentative friendship turning to flirtatious virtual dates, and now that Hotch knows how old Spencer actually is the barriers just continue to break down one by one. The next escalation? Stepping up from text messages... to a phone call. But it isn’t planned, or how either imagined it would be. In fact, it all begins because of a case...

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Set in late season 6/early season 7, unbeta’d, first draft)

(Without getting into spoilers I’m going to skim over the how and the why of Hotch knowing Spencer’s age now, just know it happens. It had to at some point, right? But they both still don’t know what the other looks like, or even heard each other speak... until now.)

-

Spencer doesn’t even see the caller ID flash across his phone screen. He's too busy with the security work he’s been buried in all morning. A project that the Attorney General sent to their department, specifically, and yet Spencer always gets roped into completing it on his own. Because ‘you can finish it faster than all of us combined, have at it tiger’, and while he may have the Ph.D.’s and titles to back up his academic positions, he’s still the newest and youngest member on the board. Seniority trumps intellect, yet again. He hates bureaucracy with a passion. But Spencer doesn’t even bother to look down at his phone when it rings, just reaches over for it blindly with a half-suffering sigh. Phone calls are always consultations, or requests from other universities, or students and faculty calling in for favors, or something else that isn’t as important to him whatsoever.

Not like Hotch is.

But Hotch is always a text. Spencer knows that text tone, his heart skips when it chimes, his ear is trained for it now. This morning, however, that’s not what happens. His phone rings, and he answers like he always does during office hours. Not even looking up from his work as he puts his phone to his ear.

“This is Dr. Reid.” 

There’s a heavy pause on the line, and Spencer is in the middle of writing out an equation that takes up half a page of his notebook. Too busy to notice it right away.

“... Dr. Reid, this is SSA Hot--” the man stops, clears his throat, voice pitching even lower in an attempt to quiet the conversation. Wherever he is at. “... it’s Hotch.” 

Spencer’s heart literally stops in his chest.

The deep bass, reverberating tones, ring in his ears like church bells and he doesn’t quite comprehend what is happening even as his mind whirls. Stalled, like a car engine that is being revved uselessly, to no avail. 

There’s no way…

“H-Hotch?” 

If he was in his right mind whatsoever, instead of stunned speechless, Spencer would have winced at the breathless sound he just let out.

“I didn’t -- I’m sorry, this wasn’t how I wanted our first phone conversation to go,” Hotch says, his voice clear and concise and smooth as water flowing over river stones. Just as cool, somehow, and yet there’s warmth in the layers underneath. They weave their way in after he apologizes, earnestly, like a small dam breaking in his cadence. He truly was sorry that he had sprung himself on Spencer like this, bringing them into a new light. Another barrier broken between them. “But I need your help.”

That shakes Spencer out of his mild panic. His irrational worry about how he sounds on the phone -- how young he sounds on the phone, because it’s far too late to do anything about that, now -- or how his voice cracks when he answers the older man. Still partially in shock, mind racing to righten itself, somehow.

“R-Right. Yes, of course. You’re still on your case, in Wyoming?” It all comes out in a rush as Spencer closes his notebook and stands up from his desk in a shot, immediately pacing along one of his floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in his office. Free hand raking through his hair to ground himself.

“Yes, the geographical profile is too complex for us to decipher and we don’t have time to cycle it through digitally. There’s a snow storm up here, we have next to no service. I can’t even get text messages or email out… just phone calls. Emergency phone calls.” There’s an authority to Hotch’s voice that just feels like it fits him, and his job, and how Spencer remembers their first emails sounding -- it’s nothing like how they text, how they message each other at all hours of the night and make each other laugh on different sides of the country. He finds he likes it, though, finds it soothing in a way that calms his rattled nerves the more he speaks, and gets Spencer to focus on the task at hand. Hotch’s team is on a case, people are dead, a killer is on the loose. Hotch needs his help. “It also means we can’t access anything from the home office at Quantico, so we’re stuck up a creek at the moment.”

“I’m faster than a computer, anyway, have Ms. Garcia send it all over to me as soon as she can,” Spencer tells him, putting his phone between his ear and shoulder as he scoops up his laptop and races out of his office. Making a beeline towards the conference room where he’ll have more room to work. Spencer is already logging into his email and closing the door with his foot for privacy when he juggles his phone to his hand. “I’m putting you on speaker, but it’s just me in here. I can start when I have everything.” He drops his cell to the table and leans over it as he sets up, clearing off the work space as quick as his frantic hands allow. 

But something stops him. Spencer pauses in his shuffling of papers left over from that morning’s meetings as a thought sticks in the forefront of his mind. Entirely inappropriate, considering the circumstances, but… face flushed red and eyes darting to the phone -- Hotch’s name there above the call time duration -- Spencer licks his lips nervously and asks, anyway. 

“... am I on speaker there?”

“Not yet, I was about to switch you over.”

“Wait! I just --” he pauses, flushing further at his outburst, and he knows his words have gone a little breathless and high and he’s embarrassed by it all but... he has to say it. The development is too shocking, too out of their realm of influence. If and when they had planned on moving up from texts to phone calls, it wouldn’t have gone like this, or have had this much urgency. It’s still the first time Spencer has ever heard Hotch speak, and he can’t ignore how groundbreaking that is. What it’s changing between them, even as they work on a case that requires all their attention.

“-- I really like the sound of your voice,” he admits, his own words quieted because he knows this isn’t the time or the place. “The decibels are soothing, which is so fascinating to me and I’m sure there’s a science behind it, I’ll have to look it up later. And…it’s close to how I pictured you might sound… but better?” God, Spencer never stumbles over words like this and he clears his throat as he tries to righten his composure to something a little less… awestruck. Focus. They have a case. “Will you -- can we talk tonight, too? Please.” 

“Of course,” Hotch says quietly, assuringly, and his voice rumbles through the speaker on the table. Spencer feels it like a shockwave, from shaking breath to numb fingertips. He’s glad he’s leaning against the table, when it happens, because he goes a little lightheaded from it. “You’re… just as I expected.” And there’s a tone there that says it like praise, and Spencer’s heart feels light as air. “We’ll talk more about it later,” Hotch promises, and suddenly Spencer can hear a door opening on the other end of the line and a click of sound as the police station background noise filters through the conference room. “You’re on speaker with my team,” Hotch says, his voice a little bit further away, but not any less stronger for it. “This is Dr. Spencer Reid at CalTech, he’s going to finish the geographical profile for us.”

(tbc...)

[taetaespeaches]

“Do you remember my promise?”

jimin x reader (or oc) genre: fluff; angst word count: 2.6K

a/n: Oh my goodness we’ve reached the last Jimin upload for a bit! So wild. In this one, Dear is feeling some anxiety after Jimin goes on tour for the first time since their brief break up and Jimin helps assure her. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading! :))

Oh and it features a bit of Tae, Guk, and Jinnie. 

YOUR eyes stayed glued to the text conversation as your chest tightened by the second. The anxiety seemingly came out of nowhere, though you realized it must had been building up over the past few weeks Jimin had been away.

When the three dots appeared, alerting you to your boyfriend’s pending response, you held your breath.

Chim: Grab your laptop, I’m calling you.

Dropping the phone to the comforter, you reached to your bedside table, pulling the laptop off. Opening it, you quickly clicked on the video chatting app as you sat up straight, crossing your legs. Lightly chewing on your finger nails, you eagerly answered the call when Jimin’s ID showed up on the screen.

“Hi Dear,” he greeted before his face came into view, the sound of his voice allowing you to release the breath you’d been holding. When his video loaded onto your display, you could have cried at the image of him, sitting in his hotel room, looking at you with a face full of concern.

“Hi,” you exhaled, wishing for nothing more than to reach out and hug him. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to blink them away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, you sighing as you shrugged. “Talk to me,” Jimin told you gently. As he awaited your answer, he thoughtlessly ran his hand through his hair.  

“I don’t know, I just feel on edge,” you admitted. Your boyfriend watched you carefully, scanning your face as he tried to gage your emotions and figure out what was burdening your mind. “I just needed to see your face,” you admitted, Jimin giving you a sad smile. “Hear your voice.”

“I’m here, Dear,” he assured you. Smiling weakly back at him, Jimin stared at you thoughtfully, fully aware of your downhearted spirit. “Be honest, ok?” He started, you nodding in agreement to answer his impending question truthfully. “With me being away, are you feeling uncertain?”

Exhaling shakily, you nodded, watching as Jimin licked his lips, his eyes planted on you. “I just-” you started before pausing as you directed your eyes to the side of the room in thought. “I feel anxious,” you told him, resting your chin on your hand. “I know we’re fine, but my chest is still so tight and I don’t know why,” you said, almost ashamed of what you saw as unwarranted feelings.

“You know that’s understandable, right?” He asked, you shrugging as you stared at your bedroom door, still unable to bring yourself to look at the man. “It is. It’s the first tour since-”

“I know, but that’s in the past, that’s not us,” you told him, looking at him through the screen. “I shouldn’t feel this way when you’ve been so amazing and we’ve been doing so well,” you spoke out of frustration of your anxieties.

“Exactly though,” he told you, his eyes widened with a hint of excitement gleaming from the pretty orbs. “The feelings make sense, but we are doing really well, Dear. So those worries that are pestering your mind are just leftover fears from a shitty experience. We have to replace the last tour with this one,” he explained to you, you watching him thoughtfully as you took in his words.

Observing him as he pushed back his hair again, the soft strands flowing back into place, you smiled weakly. “So what you’re saying is we just have to right the wrongs from the last tour?” Jimin’s lips spreading into a pretty smile. “Create new good memories to push the bad ones aside?”

“Exactly,” he whispered with a nod. His smile slowly morphed into a smirk, causing you to pull your eyebrows together scrutinizingly. “Hey, do you have your ring on?”

Looking at your right-hand ring finger, observing the small inscribed PJM, you toyed with the metal band. He gave it to you the morning he left for tour, promising that he would always love and appreciate you, no matter how much distance is between you. “Of course,” you told him with a nod.

“Do you remember my promise?” He asked, you flashing him a small smile, accompanied by a light giggle; the first genuine one of the night. Nodding, he let out a giddy laugh, his grin widening into a stunning beam as he tossed his head to the side, leaning against the side of his chair. “Tell me,” he nodded at you, you letting out a light scoff with a smile.

“You will love me with your whole being, no matter where you are in the world,” you paraphrased his promise, watching as his smile grew even bigger, his eyes turning to crescents.

Nodding, his expression slowly became more serious as he looked down at his own ring, running his fingertip over the small engraving of your initials. Glancing back up to you, he stared at you with an expression of sincerity. “I’m coming home to you at the end of this thing,” he assured you.

“I know you are,” you told him. “But I want you to have fun while you’re away,” you added, wanting him to know you always supported him. Even if you did miss him unbearably so in that moment.

“I know that, Dear,” he told you genuinely, licking his lips. “You don’t have to pick one or the other, you can support me and my career and miss me and want me home at the same time,” he informed you gently. “I love being on tour, I love seeing the fans, but of course I also want to be home with you. I miss you like crazy every single minute of every day.”

With a sigh, you nodded, tears gathering once again along your bottom lash line. “I know the feeling,” you said simply, Jimin giving you a tight, close-mouthed smile.

“I just want to hold you right now,” Jimin confessed, you letting out a light laugh as a tear slid down your cheek, you quickly wiping it away. “Oh, Dear,” he cooed at you with pouted lips.

Shaking your head, you brushed off your emotions with a bashful smile. “I’m ok, Chim,” you told him. “Just missing you a little more today.”

Nodding in understanding, he watched you through the webcam as you scrunched your nose at him. Giggling at the action, Jimin sat up in his chair as you moved the laptop from your thighs to the bed, lying down as you stared back at Jimin.

“I’m glad you texted me,” he suddenly spoke, your eyes widening slightly at the comment. “Thank you for telling me you weren’t feeling ok, instead of going through it alone,” he expressed his gratitude for your admission of your less than favorable feelings.

“I don’t know,” you pouted, “I still feel bad putting this shit on you while you’re away.”

“That’s silly, Dear,” he insisted with a shake of his head. “I always want to take care of you and when I can’t be there, I have to rely on you to let me know how things are going. Really going, not some fabricated image of how you want to be seen.” The words were spoken with such earnest sincerity, it brought forth your tears again. “Thank you for being honest and letting me be here for you,” he thanked you once more.  

“God, you’re seriously too kind,” you smiled through your tears, wiping them away. “Thank you for being here for me,” you appreciated, Jimin giggling as you continued watching him, almost in disbelief of how amazing your boyfriend was.

Eyes widening in excitement, he held up a hand to you, telling you, “hang on.”

Observing him curiously as he unlocked his phone and started typing and scrolling, your eyebrows pulled together in question. “What are you doing?” You asked him with a sniffle, observing the way Jimin’s lips curved upward into a teasing smirk. “Chim,” you whined, dragging the word out.

“Patience,” he told you, you groaning.

“I have none,” you replied, Jimin scoffing through his big grin.

“That’s for sure,” he teased you, you lightly laughing in response. Setting the phone down, he shot you a close-mouthed smile, and there was a slight delay before the all too familiar song started playing from his device through the computer speakers.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, lifting your head from the mattress, a massive grin forming on your face. “Jimin,” you cooed, your eyes glistening as Jimin smiled lovingly at you. “You’re so cheesy, stop making me cry,” you whined.

As Beyonce’s ‘All Night’ filled your bedroom, the dreamy song soothing your remaining anxieties, Jimin swayed from side to side, wearing that pretty smile you adored so much.

“Aw, Dear,” Jimin giggled adoringly as his own eyes became glassy. “I want to wipe your tears away,” he pouted, you laughing as you dabbed under your eyes.

Lying flat on your back, you waved your arms back and forth gracefully to the smooth beat of the song, Jimin dramatically singing the chorus to you, throwing his head back as he sang in his angelic voice, which sounded amazing even when he was just joking around.

Just as he looked back to the screen, appearing as though he was going to say something, a knock sounded on his hotel room door, followed by three more knocks, all on different areas of the door.

Sighing, you giggled, Jimin shaking his head. “If I don’t let them in-”

“They won’t stop,” you laughed with a nod. “Let them in, Darling. I don’t mind.”

Shaking his head, he stood up, calling out, “I’m sorry,” as he moved further from the laptop to let his members inside the room.

“Wait, any bets on who it is?” You yelled out to him, Jimin popping back into view of the camera with wide eyes. “I bet you dinner it’s the nimrods and Jin,” you teased, feeling confident that it would be Taehyung, Jungkook, and the eldest member.  

“Isn’t it too obvious,” he whined, “who else would it be?” He continued to complain as he headed back toward the hotel room door, the knocks only increasing in both frequency and volume. You listened as the door opened, Jimin immediately groaning.

“It had to be you three?” He grumbled, you giggling on your end of the video call.

“Jiminssi” Jungkook’s loud voice echoed overtop the music, Taehyung and Jin’s voices combining as they all got closer to the computer.

“Looks like I get to pay for dinner when you get home,” you called out to your boyfriend, the man complaining in the background.

“Oh?” Taehyung’s voice sounded suddenly. “Is that my girl?” He asked, peering at the computer screen, his head humorously appearing in the corner of the shot, you silently giggling at how cute he was. “It is,” he said excitedly with an accompanying smile, stepping fully into the camera’s sight, you waving cutely.  

“Hi, Tae,” you greeted sweetly before scolding him. “Stop sending me photos of everything you eat, it’s actual torture,” you complained, Taehyung smiling at your complaint.

“I always eat enough for you, don’t worry,” he told you cutely, you laughing at the comment.

You grinned just as Jimin returned in front of the laptop, taking a seat once again as he turned down the volume on his phone so the song was just humming in the background.

“Ah, it’s Deary,” Jin cheered excitedly as he stepped in front of the camera, Jungkook in tow as he waved at you happily, you giggling as you waved back.

“Hey guys, how are you?”  

“We’re all good, I think,” Taehyung answered for them all, you smiling at how happy they looked to be touring.

“I would ask you how you are but lover boy here literally never stops talking about you so I already know,” Jungkook teased your boyfriend, Jimin taking in a deep breath as he looked up at the younger man, shaking his head before letting the air out in a huff. “Ah, Dear’s eating ramen for lunch, doesn’t that sound so good?” He mimicked your boyfriend, Jimin covering his mouth with his hand as he laughed before using his opposite hand to slap Jungkook’s arm out of embarrassment. “I miss my girlfriend so much,” Jungkook continued, raising the pitch of his voice to further the teasing, “she sent me a selfie today, she looked so pretty.”

“That’s true, he talks about you constantly,” Jin confirmed as Jimin hid behind his hands, “I spoke to him this morning and asked how he slept and you know what he said?” He asked Jungkook and Taehyung, the two men grinning, highly entertained as Jimin silently laughed. “I sleep better at home, I just wanna cuddle my girlfriend.”

You laughed at their playful mocking, directing your gaze to Jimin to see him running his hand through his hair again as he smiled shyly. Shifting his eyes from the boys to you, you scrunched your nose at him, Jimin giggling at your happy expression.

“You know, that’s so weird,” you interjected, all four of the men looking to you. “He never mentions any of you,” you told them with a smirk, Jin’s jaw dropping as he pointed at Jimin accusatorily.

“Hey,” Jungkook complained.

“What the hell, man?” Taehyung joined in, Jimin simply shrugging as he smiled at you.

Jin looked toward the nimrods, cocking his head to the side. “Well, I don’t talk to my girlfriend about you guys either,” Jin joked, the two youngest members complaining.

“Well if I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t talk to her about you either,” Jungkook sassed back, Jin feigning insult as they began bickering.

“What is wrong with you guys? I talk to Peaches about you all the time,” Taehyung looked at them in confusion and offense, everyone looking to him for a moment.

“Are you admitting she’s your girlfriend?” Jungkook asked with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“What?” Taehyung asked, a shy smile gracing his features as he became embarrassed.  “No.” You all laughed at the man, all of you fully aware it was only a matter of time before your best friend and Taehyung got together.

As the conversation continued behind Jimin, the guys’ voices all blending and yelling overtop each other’s, you and Jimin checked out of their joking and bickering, choosing to instead lock eyes with yours through the laptop screen.  

Jimin cutely scrunched his nose at you, you holding back a smile at the adorable action. He mouthed, “you ok?” you nodding sincerely. You were ok, knowing that this tour wasn’t a repeat of the last one. You and Jimin had grown as both individuals and as a couple. You’d never been so sure of anything before than you were of Jimin and your relationship.

“I love you,” you mouthed to him, Jimin dramatically placing his hand to his chest, you giggling at his dorkiness.

“I love you too,” he mouthed back with a stunning smile.

Even with all the chaos of the three men in the background of the video call, all you could see was Jimin, sitting there with a loving expression. He gave you more love than you could have ever asked for. Of course you still missed him immensely, but you were at peace knowing he was doing what he loves all while loving you with his entire being.

And at the end of it all, Jimin would come home to you. He’d barge through your front door and scoop you up into a massive hug and he wouldn’t let go for as long as you’d allow him to hold you. He would come home to you, because you were his home. And he was yours.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s R&S - Youthhood (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (少年时代) was part of the Dream Heart Lake event which will unlikely come to EN🍒

Cancelled Kiro’s R&S:

> top experimental subject (by another user)

> stunning young idol

> youthhood ♡

> heaven’s home for children (by another user)

[ Chapter 1]

Kiro sits on the highest flight of steps of TKTS. With the scorching sun directly overhead, he’s queuing to purchase discounted tickets to “Wicked” with Pei En.

TKTS, which sells discounted tickets, is located in the bustling Times Square in New York, USA. Behind it is the NASDAQ screen, and on both sides are shops selling Disney products and all sorts of fast fashion brands. The buildings in front and in the surroundings have gigantic, neat and pretty advertisements.

Among them, a gigantic “The Avengers” poster above the subway is the most attention grabbing.

This is a representation of the era. It’s a symbol of the 20th century, and is also similar to the cyberpunk world of “Blade Runner”.

“I’ve got the tickets!”

Pei En waves the two tickets to “Wicked” in his hand. Pei En is the guitarist in his band. Kiro’s agency formed a band for him, and most of the band members are French locals. Only Pei En is of mixed blood like Kiro - a child from a Jew and an Asian.

“If the performance had gone smoothly, we would have reached earlier!”

They have a final performance in New York as part of their tour, and would have to leave after, rushing to Los Angeles, California.

“This time, I’m going to hide the donuts in an even more secret location so the person who inspects the tickets wouldn’t discover them!”

While Kiro says this, he finishes the donut in his hand.

Donuts from Dunkin’ Donuts are very sticky. Only Kiro can treat such things as delicacies.

His ringtone sounds. With a glance at the number on the screen, he hangs up immediately. Pei En is very curious to know who the caller is. He has expressed curiosity regarding everything involving Kiro, and Kiro knows why.

“Is it that fellow Lawrence again?” Pei En asks. Lawrence is the agent of their band.

“Nope, but it’s definitely a harassment call.”

“It should be.”

Pei En seems to be a carbon copy of Kiro. Aside from his hair not being golden coloured, he is extremely similar to Kiro in terms of bubbliness and openness, and how simple-minded he is. 

-

[ Chapter 2 ]

After purchasing the tickets, both of them return to the agency. Lawrence is at the side, looking through the program booklet for their performance tonight. Lawrence is overwhelmingly ambitious. He won’t give up until he bags a Grammy Award for the band.

“Did you know? Another group of strange people came to look for you again.”

The moment Lawrence sees Kiro, he pulls the latter to a corner. Pei En curiously watches on.

“What kind of people did you provoke? They look like they shouldn’t be trifled with.”

Kiro shakes his head. “What do you mean by ‘they’? Fans?”

When Lawrence sees the innocent and harmless expression on Kiro’s face again, he knows that his questions wouldn’t get him anywhere. Kiro always manages to find ways to conceal himself.

“How’s the preparation for the concert? You’re the lead singer, and all the girls are flocking here for you!”

“I’ll definitely perform even better than usual!”

Kiro looks to be full of zest and in high spirits. He genuinely loves being on stage, and loves how he radiates brilliance. Who doesn’t like seeing fans go into a frenzy over them and be captivated by them? It enables Kiro to fully feel that he is still living on this earth. And that on this earth, there are still so many people who like him...

“I’m guessing you went to buy a souvenir again today.”

Lawrence comes to such a conclusion after glancing at Kiro’s bag. Kiro has a hobby - to buy some souvenirs wherever he goes, whenever convenient.

From Paris to Munich, Zurich to Stockholm, Vancouver to Montreal - wherever he goes on tour, he would buy local fridge magnets and postcards, and he would always buy two sets.

He wants to collect these things, so if a day comes when he can meet her again, he would show them to her, and say:

“Look! This world is so beautiful, and you no longer have to be afraid.”

But till now, he has yet to find her. He remembers her eyes. One day, he will find her in a vast sea of people. 

“Did you know that the agency from China has sent someone to negotiate with us? They want you to sign on with them, and the amount they’re giving you is basically--”

Lawrence’s tone is exaggerated. “How are people in China so wealthy!”

“What if I said that I wanted to go to China?”

“Hey, buddy, the band can’t do without you.”

“Haha, Pei En is much more outstanding than I am.”

At this point, Pei En is still watching them. Kiro understands him too well. He’s much too curious. Also, he’s only curious about Kiro, which could very quickly expose Kiro’s hidden identity.

Did that group of people actually send Pei En to monitor him...

He kind of underestimates Pei En though.

“But that fellow is always so absent-minded. God knows what he’s thinking about.”

-

[ Chapter Three ]

Americans enjoy overstating things. At one moment, they go “only God knows...”, and at another moment, they go “for the sake of God...”. Some people can’t stand it, but Kiro finds it very interesting.

Very quickly, Kiro begins rehearsing with the band. His style of singing changes a lot. When they were in Europe, they mostly played rock music. When they reached America, they started playing country or jazz music.

Kiro likes the southern accent of the keyboardist from California. But Lawrence prohibits it. “The southern accent is the most crude and coarse form of English! Why can’t you learn the way the British speak?”

Lawrence has always favoured people who can speak eloquent British English - to him, only such people are refined and elegant. But Kiro grew up in France. When he first started learning English, he tended to pronounce “ch” as “sh”. Actually, French is genuinely elegant and pleasant to listen to. And English tinged with a slight French accent can make one absorbed in it.

-

The concert ended smoothly.

The fans are cheering in a frenzy outside, wanting them to perform one more song. But the agent has already told them to leave.

Pei En and Kiro take a car and rush to the theatre to watch “Wicked”. This is the final Broadway show they want to watch, and it was a shame that Kiro didn't get to watch the well-known Hamilton.

At the entrance, that group of fellows stopped him again. 

The person standing at the forefront is a Caucasian woman. She walks up to Kiro elegantly and greets him, signalling for the person next to her to bring Pei En away.

“I’ve already given you a response through e-mail, and I hope you won’t disturb me again.”

The Caucasian woman proceeds as usual, showing him an FBI ID.

Kiro grumbles in his heart.

“I swear I won’t disclose the contents of ‘The Avengers’. Even though I’ve already watched it on my laptop, I’ll definitely watch it again in the cinema!”

The Caucasian woman laughs.

“Mr Kiro, you’re very humorous. Even though we know that apart from Disney, you’ve also hacked into Universal Studios and Paramount Pictures, we’re not here to talk about this.”

She continues: “KEY - that’s you, isn’t it?”

-

[ Chapter 4 ]

Kiro doesn’t respond, his eyes widening as he glances around. 

“In order to track down your IP address, we had to destroy four computers.”

“Are you looking for me to make compensation for the computers?”

“Mr Kiro. Ten years ago, you expended no effort to hack into our computers, and left behind a string of mysterious characters.”

The Caucasian woman smiles at him amiably. Kiro’s expression grows serious. Ten years ago, that KEY who hacked into their organisation wasn’t him...

“Ten years later, you’re back again. I think you're trying to provoke us.”

“I don’t have such an intention.”

“Whether or not you do, we can’t let you continue this way. Mr Kiro, this is a serious issue. We are now sending you a sincere invitation, and we hope to work together to do more noble things.”

Kiro is silent. He had previously found a clue leading to his own master. Finding out that he had entered the American FBI website and left behind a series of symbols - he thinks this is message to him from his master. As such, he entered it as well, and found that series of symbols, but until now hasn’t been able to decipher it.

It’s a series of very strange symbols, reminiscent of a new language formed using Latin and Roman symbols. He managed to decipher it a little, and it appears that the series of symbols seem to be pointing him to a location.

And the FBI had found him quickly, sending him an e-mail. It was a solemn reminder that if he was unwilling to be enlisted by them, he would lose his rights to use a computer forever.

“You’ve stated these things clearly in the e-mail, and I’ve already replied.”

“I don't think you have considered the severity of this matter. Mr Kiro, we can detain you.”

"In that case, I’ll just sing in jail then!”

Seeing the displeased look on the Caucasian woman’s face, Kiro continues smiling simple-mindedly.

“I hope you wouldn’t regret this in the future.” The Caucasian woman leaves a final statement that is often found in a script for a classic villain. She leaves with the large group of people. 

Pei En walks over frantically, and Kiro walks towards him as well.

“Tell them that I’ve met with some trouble, and will need to leave America immediately.”

Pei En pretends to be puzzled.

“You understand the meaning in my words, don’t you?”

For the first time, Kiro looks at him seriously. During serious moments, he doesn’t smile. 

“Where do you plan to go? We can send you to Russia.”

Pei En is no longer smiling. His expression changes, along with his entire aura.

As expected, Pei En is much too similar to him. If Kiro were to leave the band, Pei En could take over his position as the lead singer, and that group of people had considered this fact too.

-

[ Chapter 5 ]

The face of the little girl surfaces in Kiro’s mind again. 

The girl is lying with him, and is all smiles as she looks at him.

“Don’t be afraid. When I’m out, I’ll buy you donuts, okay?”

The girl draws the shape of a donut in the air.

Back then, Kiro didn’t speak. He just stared at the ceiling in a dazed state.

“Don’t worry that I won’t have enough money. My dad will give it to me.”

Kiro remains wordless, quietly listening to the little girl speak.

The little girl struggles to pull on his hand.

Their fingers lace together, the warmth from her palm gradually coursing into Kiro’s heart.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

Kiro turns to look at her - to look at her determined brown eyes, to look at how the corners of her lips angle upwards. Kiro slowly learns how to curl the corners of his lips from her. It’s the first smile to appear on his face. 

Suddenly, the door is flung open. A group of people wearing doctor’s coats enter and drag him away. The little girl watches him in a daze, and he stares back at her. They agreed to go out to have donuts - can they still eat them?

-

“I want to return to China.”

Pei En shakes his head, alarm in his eyes. “Why? There’s so much freedom here, and I’m the only one who monitors you. And I’m inclined to trust you more now. You won’t betray us.”

“No... I still want to go back.”

Not just for the little girl. The symbols left behind by his master seem to point to a certain location in China... Where exactly is it? And why did he leave the symbols with the FBI? Could it be the place he’s hiding at right now?

No matter what, he wants to solve this riddle.

“All right. I’ll handle it for you as soon as I can. I think you’d have to use a false identity this time.”

“As long as everything goes smoothly, it’s fine.”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing they can’t do.”

He wants to wait till he returns to China before telling Lawrence about what happened. Lawrence will definitely be extremely frantic. After all, he’s been following Kiro ever since he debuted in France.

And Pei En will definitely be happy. He can finally take over Kiro and become the favourite member of the group, and obtain love from the fans.

Kiro is someone who doesn’t lack love. But he always subconsciously wishes that he could obtain even more love. More and more...

-

[ Chapter 6 ]

Before Kiro retuned, Pei En gave him materials pertaining to the agency in China.

“Your agent is called Savin. He doesn’t seem as eager for instant success and quick profits as Lawrence. Mr Savin is a very amiable person, and you should be very happy interacting with him.”

“Is he one of your people?”

“I don’t know.”

“You really don’t know?”

Pei En shakes his head. “I rank too low, so I don’t have the right to ask. I’m just an elementary spy.”

Kiro nods, taking his luggage and preparing to leave. He’ll set things straight eventually.

“Kiro, I don’t think you’re transparent. They say that what’s in your heart is easy to guess, which is why they put me by your side. But I think they have underestimated you.”

Kiro looks at Pei En’s troubled eyes, then showcases his signature sunny smile.

“How can that be? Do you want a postcard? When I get to China, I’ll mail you one. I also want to mail them to Lawrence and the members from the band. Treat it as an apology.”

Like Kiro, Pei En showcases a sunny smile. “In that case, we’ll wait for your news. You’ll definitely be at the height of popularity in China.”

“Let’s work hard together.”

“Yes!”

After parting with Pei En, who has been with together with him from morning to night for so long, Kiro lifts his luggage and embarks on an unknown journey. 

As what Pei En said, he isn’t transparent. His brilliant smile conceals something underneath, just as the brilliant sun shrouds darkness underneath.

Hidden in the depths of his secrets are things even darkness doesn’t know of. If darkness had a mind of its own, it might think it doesn’t fit with this pure and simple youth.

Just as how everyone think he’s a simple, innocent Kiro, the sunlight casted on him can pierce through him completely, the rays of light refracting onto the floor. 

Actually, since a very long time ago, he was no longer a youth...

But, for her sake, he's willing to become a youth again.

“Don’t be afraid, I’ll protect you.”

He once again recalls what the girl said to him.

“This time, I’ll be the one protecting you.” Kiro says excitedly. He stands outside the JFK Airport, his eyes staring directly at the sun.

“I’ll find you, and protect you. I even have a mountain of souvenirs stored in my luggage. I’ll give them all to you. And my purest heart - I’ll give it to you too!”

-

Other cancelled R&S: here

[superfanficnatural]

The Choice Part 9

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Christian Grey x Reader 

Summary: Deciding to get over your crush on Dean, you find Christian, a mysterious billionaire that manages to split your heart into two. Finding out hidden truths, your decision becomes a hard one, who will you choose?

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been so long since I’ve posted something let alone written something and I had actually finished up this chapter this morning in a random urge lol. I don’t want to get your hopes up, and I can’t promise I’m going to be posting like I usually was, but at least I can give the people who were waiting for this another chapter! As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Fluff.

Word Count: 2,572

Italics are thoughts

Masterpost

After an unnecessary amount of driving, you finally parked the Impala in the Bunker’s garage, the smile still just as strong on your face. You thought Dean would have gotten bored after the first half hour but he seemed just as content as you were. Of course, he tried to steel his face of emotion but you knew him well enough, he was enjoying it just as much as you were.

“Thanks for that,” you winked at him, handing him the keys.

He rolled his eyes, still attempting to seem annoyed, “Yeah, no problem sweetheart.”

You chuckled and opened the door, walking towards the war room with Dean following closely behind. As if it was muscle memory, you placed your bag down on the table and reached into your pocket to put your phone down as well, only realizing you didn’t have your phone.

“Hey, do you know where my phone is? I can’t find it anywhere,” you muttered, turning to Dean.

He swallowed, a bit heavily, “Uh no, I haven’t.”

You were slightly suspicious of him because of his reaction but didn’t think any more of it, shrugging your shoulders, “I guess I’ll ask Sam, he was the one who found me.”

He nodded and began treading towards his room, the second he turned his back to you, his face turning into one of guilt.

Looking around, you wondered where Sam was, looking in the library as well to find him nowhere in sight. Huffing out, you checked the only other place he could possibly be in, his room. You knocked on his door and called out for him, waiting a few moments for a response. A shouted, ‘come in!’ from the other side confirmed that he indeed was there. Opening the door, you walked in to notice Sam laying on his bed with his computer on his lap, the bed still made underneath him.

“Whatcha up to?” you asked, slightly confused as to what he was doing.

He smiled, “Just looking around for a case, it’s been a bit since the last time we were on one.”

You sat down at the edge of the bed, “Hey, do you have my phone? I’ve been looking for it all day and I have no idea where it is.”

He looked a bit confused, “It should have been with your clothes when you left the Hospital?”

You shook your head, “No, it wasn’t there.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Last time I saw it, it was there, maybe one of the workers stole it?”

You hummed, “It’s possible, unlikely, but possible.” You got up, “Alright Sammy, just let me know when you find a case,” you winked at him and left the room.

You had intended to go back to your room, but for some reason you couldn’t stop thinking about Dean. Walking over to his room, you knocked on the door, hearing an almost instant reply from him. 

“Unless you’re naked and covered in chocolate don’t come in!”

“Fuck off,” you laughed, walking in and closing the door behind you.

He was on his bed with his headphones previously on, obviously listening to music on his phone while he laid on his bed, a similar position to his brother.

“What’s up?” you questioned, sitting on the bed and reaching out to tap his leg.

He smirked at you, “Something you wanna say, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, “Get your dick out of your mind and just answer the damn question.”

He chuckled, “Was just listening to some music, getting ready for bed.”

“I don’t suppose you couldn’t stay up a bit longer to hang out with me?” you asked, an innocent smile on your face.

He feigned being in thought, seeming as if he was really thinking about it, “Fine, but only if you get naked and cover yourself in chocolate.”

You bursted out laughing and slapped him across the back of the head, “Just meet me in the cave for fucks sake.”

As you were walking out of the room, he called out behind you, “Make sure you bring popcorn… and choco-”

You slammed the door shut before you could hear the end of his sentence, chuckling and shaking your head as you made your way to the kitchen. Reaching into one of the cupboards, you pulled out one of the popcorn packages and slipped it into the microwave, setting it to the time written across the back. As you were waiting for the popcorn, you grabbed a case of beers and set it on the countertop, popping one open and taking a sip. After drinking nothing but weird tasting water at the Hospital for the past few days, you were grateful to finally have some flavor to the liquid you were drinking. 

You didn’t want to think about it, but both Christian and Dean began to invade your thoughts. Are me and Christian even dating? And what’s going on with Dean recently? You really couldn’t tell what was going on with Dean, first he stays by your side at the Hospital the entire time, he doesn’t even allow you to thank him for saving your life, and he let you drive Baby? Something was up. You were broken from your thoughts by the beeping of the microwave, signaling the finished product of the popcorn. After grabbing a bowl big enough to fit all of the kernels, you filled it up and held it in one hand, the case of beers in the other. As you opened the cracked door with your hip, you walked in to see Dean on one of the couches facing the TV, scrolling through Netflix and trying to find something to watch. He turned to face you as you had made some noise and stole his attention.

“Come on over,” he patted the spot next to him, beckoning you to sit next to him.

Sitting down and putting the case of beers to the side, you grabbed yours and handed him his, placing the popcorn in the slight gap between you.

“Find something to watch?”

“Not yet, but I’m thinking an old western,” he responded.

“Of course you are,” you rolled your eyes with a smile. “Let me choose, I am not going to fall asleep to some boring old movie,” you grabbed the remote from him.

He gasped, placing a hand over his heart, “How dare you call old westerns ‘boring’?!”

You laughed, “Just call it like I see it.”

“Well then you are blind,” he huffed out, drawing a scoff from you.

You scrolled through Netflix, trying to find a movie the two of you would enjoy, eventually settling on one of the new Marvel movies, Endgame. About an hour into the movie, you looked over to Dean still intently watching the screen, at least he likes it. You had reached the end fight scene where Thor appeared and striked down Thanos with his new weapon.

“Why didn’t he just cut off his head?!” Dean exclaimed from his seat.

“It’s not a vamp, Dean,” you chuckled.

“Shhhhhh! Don’t talk during the movie!” he hushed you.

You were about to retort until you let it go, shaking your head with a silent laugh as he continued to watch the movie. Reaching the end, Thanos had won and obliterated half of the life in the entire universe, Dean nearly jumping out of his seat.

“What kind of ending is that?” he spat, unbelieving.

“Not everything ends with a happy ending, Dean,” you were having way too much fun poking at him throughout the movie.

“Massages do!” he exclaimed.

Your jaw dropped and an unbelieving scoff came out of your mouth, “Oh my god, Dean what the fuck,” you chuckled. 

He turned to you with a smirk, “And so does this.”

He closed the space in between you in milliseconds, his lips brushing up against yours softly. You were shocked at first but almost instantly gave into the kiss, his soft and plump ones feeling like heaven against yours. You didn’t want it to escalate further than it should have so you decided to pull away, seemingly not the first person to think such a thing since Dean was the one who broke off the kiss first. You both pulled away and as you looked at Dean with both adoration and slight confusion, he simply had a smile on his face, the crinkles around his eyes shining brightly in the dim room.

“G’night, Y/N,” he spoke softly before kissing you tenderly on the forehead and leaving the room. 

You sat there in utter shock at his ministrations. Did Dean just... was he being... soft? You were flabbergasted at the least and couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or trying to play some sort of angle. Shaking any of those thoughts from your head, you weren’t too tired so you decided to keep watching some TV on your lonesome. Clicking play on a series you had been meaning to watch for a while, you got comfortable in your seat and began your binge. You got as far as the finale of season one until you decided to call it a night and turn off the screen. You got up and collected the trash, the popcorn bag, the few bottles of beer, and headed towards the kitchen to throw them all away. Discarding all the trash, you walked down the corridor to enter your room, walking past Dean’s and hearing the rumble of a cell phone. Your curiosity got the best of you and you cracked open the door to his room, seeing a small light coming out of the drawer next to his bed. The thing that had your eyebrows furrowing into your face was the fact that Dean’s phone was sitting right on top of the drawer itself. You slowly crept into the room, making sure that you didn’t wake up Dean and opened it, peering inside to see a familiar phone with a name lighting up on the screen. Picking up the phone, you noticed that it was your own, Christian’s name showing as the caller ID. What the hell? Dean has my phone? 

“I can explain,” you heard the worried tone of Dean’s voice.

You looked down to see him awake in his bed, looking at you in fear as his gaze darted from your eyes to the phone resting in your hands. Of course, he was trying to get on my good side.

“Ten seconds and I’m out,” you gritted behind your teeth, moments away from losing it.

His face was littered with guilt and uncertainty but he took a deep breath to compose himself before starting, “At first, I had no intention of even touching your phone.”

You raised your eyebrow in defiance, silently telling him that it makes no difference.

“But then that...asshole started texting you, calling you,” his face was morphing into an expression of anger. “I was sitting next to you, thinking that you were dying as this stupid rich dude who only wants you for your body was making your phone ring.”

You had half the mind to cut him off and tell him how wrong he was but decided against it, letting him finish whatever bullshit excuse he was making up.

“The noise was killin’ me, hell, I couldn’t even hear your heartbeat anymore!” he shouted, shocking you. “So I grabbed the damn phone, shut it off, and put it in my pocket.”

“So this is you ‘explaining’ what happened, Dean? Are you fucking kidding me? You took my phone, lied to my face about it, and tried to cover it up with some bullshit story that doesn’t even make sense?!” you yelled back, his face going pale as he recoiled back into his bed slightly. “You know what, I thought that you actually-” you cut yourself off, shaking your head with a disbelieving laugh. “Fuck you, Dean.”

You turned around and slammed the door behind you, ignoring Dean’s cries to wait and to let him explain.

You stomped your way back to your room, positively fuming, steam practically rising from your ears. Who the hell does he think he is? Playing me for a goddamn fool, acting all sweet and kind just to turn out to be just another asshole as he’s always been. It was like the more you thought about it, the more infuriated you got. Getting into your room and slamming the door once more, you plopped down on your bed and took your phone out of your pocket, opening it to see practically a hundred missed calls from Christian. You closed your eyes and sighed, clicking on his number and putting the phone up to your ear, hearing it ring and praying that he would answer.

“Y/N?” just hearing his voice already managed to calm you down and bring a smile to your face. 

“Hey, Christian,” you breathed, feeling the anger that was once overtaking you dissipating.

“You got your phone back?” he asked.

“Yeah, long story but I got it. How are you?” 

“I should be asking you that, where are you? I saw that the hospital had discharged you,” you smiled at the concern in his voice.

“I’m at home, just resting up a bit more,” you bit your lip, a strange awkwardness coming to light, as if neither of you really knew what to say.

“I also heard that… the shooter came back,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was gritting his teeth.

You already knew how he felt, “Christian, I’m fine, nothing happened... Dean... saved me,” you reluctantly admitted.

You heard a strange noise coming from his line on the phone, “I can’t believe I wasn’t there to protect you!”

A loud crash registered in your ear and you felt horrible, “Christian, please, don’t blame yourself. No one knew that he would have came back to finish the job, but because of it we learned who hired him!” you tried to get him to move past it.

A sudden silence overtook him, “Someone... hired him?”

You began to regret telling him, “Uh... yeah.”

“Who was it?” his tone was very sharp and you knew that he was ready to track down whoever it was and kill them.

“Does it really matter? It’s over now,” you hesitantly tried to move on from the conversation, knowing there was a slim chance of that.

“Y/N, that person hired someone to kill you, and they aren’t going to stop simply because they failed the first time. Please, just tell me their name, I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on,” his tone was so sincere and so warm that your heart felt heavy in your chest.

“Leila, her name is Leila Williams.”

Silence. Complete and utter silence. 

“... Christian?” you began to worry something had happened.

You heard him clear his throat on the other side of the line, “G-got it. Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll check in with you later, alright? Goodnight.”

“Christian? What’s going-” he hung up the phone before you could even finish the sentence.

Pulling the phone away from your ear and looking at the screen incredulously, you gaped at the sudden change of attitude and tone in Christian. He knew more than he was letting on, and you sure as well were going to find out exactly what it was. You got out your laptop and began your search. 

Next Part

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp @shadowsinger11 @donnaintx @flamencodiva @impala-1979 @talesmaniac89 @winchest09 @malfoysqueen14 @deanwanddamons @waywardbeanie @anathewierdo @janicho88 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @jensengirl83

Dean/Jensen Forevers Tag List: @akshi8278 @lyarr24

Female Reader Tag List (All Fandoms): @punof-agun

Tag List for The Choice: @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @spnfamily-j2 @greenarrowhead @vicmc624 @pie-with-hunters @m-winchester-67 @ellewritesfix05 

[crystalstar8]

Eye of the Sky

ch. 4

Pairing: Jimmy K x oc

Genre: heist au, action

word count: 2,174

warnings: action, violence, gun violence, car chases, car crashes, swearing, blood probably

notes: heist au, action, adventure, crime, ooc namjoon, because he has his license lol

Summary: Ten years ago, Namjoon's father was killed by his best friend and partner in crime, A man who now goes by the name Hawthorne. Now, Namjoon wants to get into the family business in order to avenge his father's death. After finding the man who killed his father, Namjoon builds a team and creates an elaborate plan to finally take the man down.

But will they be able to get through Hawthorne's state-of-the-art security system? And will they succeed with a mysterious assassin chasing them? Let's just say, it's a good thing Namjoon's team members keep surprising him with useful skills.

@mozy-j  @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @daechwitad-2

The cafe was bustling around Namjoon as he sat in the corner, flicking his eyes to the door. Almost every table was taken by someone on their laptop, friends meeting each other, or just someone who needed to get out to have a coffee and read the paper.

               The bell above the door jingled and Namjoon looked up. A woman in a purple blazer stepped into the café and looked around. Once she spotted Namjoon’s book he was reading, she headed over and sat across from him. Namjoon bookmarked his book and set it down.

               “Are you Namjoon?” she asked, her wide eyes darting around the café.

               “Yes,” he said. “You must be Ishani.”

               She nodded and brought all her attention onto Namjoon. She looked to be about his age, maybe a bit older, with dark skin and wavy hair pulled back away from her face.

               “This is dangerous, what you’re doing,” she said in a low voice. Namjoon had to lean in and strain to hear her. “Hawthorne is a dangerous man. The only reason I’m even still alive is because I went back to India after I was fired. My family wouldn’t let him find me there.”

               “But you came back?” Namjoon asked.

               “To get my tech back,” Ishani said. “He stole my work. I at least want to be paid and credited for it.”

               “That’s fair,” said Namjoon. “But, you know what we’re doing, right?”

               “Yes. Yoongi told me,” she said with a smirk. “I’m looking forward to seeing that bastard fall.”

               Namjoon grinned. Two lattes were set down in front of them. Namjoon looked up at the waiter. It was Jimin.

               “Can I get you two anything else?” Jimin asked.

               “No thank you,” said Namjoon.

               “She’s so pretty,” Jungkook spoke up through the earpiece in Namjoon’s ear. “Tell her that her Korean is really good.”

               Namjoon ignored him. He wasn’t going to flirt for a man a block away on a roof with binoculars.

               “Didn’t she study here?” Jimin said from behind the counter where he was making drinks for customers. “Of course her Korean is good, you fool.”

               “This is an inappropriate use of these earpieces, guys,” Yoongi said from Namjoon’s apartment where he was watching through the cameras in the street and in the building.

               “I have a floor plan of the lab,” Ishani said, sliding a folded newspaper across the table. Namjoon opened it to find a flash drive tucked inside. “I marked where my office was. The code to the door is 5239. If everything is untouched, the drive should be in the bottom left drawer in my desk. It’s locked. You’ll have to break in.”

               “Thank you,” said Namjoon. “How is security at the lab?”

               “It’s nothing elaborate,” she said. “You’ll have to get ahold of a key card, or replicate one. There’s one other problem though.”

               Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

               “Hawthorne’s system uses facial recognition, along with a thumb print,” said Ishani. “The only face it will open for is Laurel Hawthorne. His son. You’ll need a pretty damn good look-a-like.”

               “Namjoon, don’t look now but check out the woman in the corner on a laptop,” said Jimin.

               “Wait, I thought this was an inappropriate use of the earpieces,” said Jungkook.

As subtly as he could, Namjoon glanced at the woman Jimin was talking about. With her back facing their table, she wore a light pink t-shirt and her blonde hair was up in a ponytail. She was working on her laptop, and Namjoon didn’t see anything unusual about her at first. Then he took a look at her computer screen. She was typing a random string of letters into her word document, eyes on the tiny camera window in the corner of her screen. The camera was aimed right at Namjoon and Ishani’s table. There was a purse on the table beside the woman, which she was reaching for.

               “Jimin-“ Namjoon started, but it was too late. The woman pulled a handgun from her bag and spun around, aiming right at Ishani. Namjoon leapt from his seat and pulled Ishani down, the bullet hitting the wall right where her head was.

               “Oh shit!” Jungkook yelled. “I’m on my way! I’m on my way!”

                               At the sound of the gunshot, the café erupted into chaos. People started screaming and running to the exit. Namjoon used the chaos to his advantage, passing Ishani off to Jimin, who snuck her out with the crowd. As soon as the café was cleared out, Namjoon kicked a table at the mysterious woman, who dropped the gun as she doubled over.

               In an attempt to grab the gun on the ground, they both circled each other, pushing tables and chairs in each other’s way. Namjoon eyed the gun under one of the tables and lunged for it. The woman tackled him, making him knock the gun further away. They struggled for a few seconds, Namjoon in a hold on the ground. He underestimated the woman’s strength. Finally, he flipped them over and threw her to the side. A car pulled up outside the café. Before he could make his escape, the woman threw herself at him, forcing them both to crash through the window and land on the sidewalk.

               Jimin was yelling at Namjoon from the passenger seat of the car. Namjoon kicked the woman away and hopped into the backseat of the car that had pulled up. The tires squealed as they drove off.

               “Who the hell was that?” Jungkook asked from the driver’s seat.

               Namjoon, who was still slumped in the back seat catching his breath said, “I have no idea.”

               “I didn’t recognize her,” Ishani said from the seat next to Namjoon’s. “Do you think Hawthorne sent her to stop us? How would he know what we’re doing?”

               “Get back to the apartment, ASAP,” Yoongi said through their earpieces.

               “You got it, chief,” said Jungkook, speeding down the streets of the city.

               “Wait, Jungkook, behind us,” Namjoon said, peeking over the backseat. A black SUV was fast approaching them. Before Jungkook could even react, the SUV slammed into them from behind, making their car swerve and fishtail. With wide eyes, Jungkook righted the car and sped away.

               “Namjoon, Ishani, get down,” said Jimin. He pulled a gun from his waistband and rolled the window down. Pulling his torso out of the window to sit on the ledge, Jimin aimed the gun at the SUV and fired several rounds. The bullets hit the bumper and one even hit the windshield, but the glass didn’t crack.

               “Does she have an armored car?” Jungkook asked. “Who the hell is she?”

               Jimin ignored him and continued firing at the SUV. He seemed to hit a tire because her car swerved and turned down a side street.

               “Fucking finally,” Jimin mumbled as he pulled himself back into the car. They sped away down the highway beside the Han River. As they stopped at an intersection, Namjoon listened to Yoongi talking into their earpieces.

               “I got a picture of her from the café cameras,” he was saying. “I’m trying to ID her but she’s not a Korean citizen. I’ll try to reach out but-“

               “Guys!” Ishani screamed, seconds before the SUV slammed into them from the side.

               The car tumbled over the guard rail and hit the water.

               There was a moment of panic within the car as it began sinking and filling with water.

               “Everyone, calm down!” Namjoon shouted. “We need to be able to hold our breath once the car fills all the way. Then we can open the doors and swim out. Make sure you’re all unbuckled right now.”

               “Jungkook isn’t awake,” Jimin said in a panicked voice. With shaking hands, he was unbuckling an unconscious Jungkook.

               “Get him to the surface,” said Namjoon. “Ishani?”

               She looked at him with dazed eyes and blood running down her face. At least her seatbelt was off. Before Namjoon could do anything else, the water rose all the way, and he and Jimin pushed their doors open, pulling Ishani and Jungkook out with them.

               Once they broke the surface, they began swimming to the shore, the current pulling them further down the river. They made it to the shore, climbing onto the cement. Namjoon rushed over to help Jimin pull Jungkook out of the water.

               He didn’t look good. There was a wound on his head and glass in his arm. At least nothing looked broken.

               “Come on, we need to get to a hospital or something,” said Namjoon.

               “No, you can’t go to a… -pital…I’m se-ing…car,” Yoongi’s garbled voice said through Namjoon’s earpiece.

               “He’s sending a car?” Jimin asked. “Is that what he said?”

               “I think so…” Namjoon trailed off and watched as the beat-up SUV pulled up near them. The blonde woman hopped out of the driver’s seat and aimed a handgun right at Namjoon. She didn’t hesitate to shoot.

               One bullet grazed his arm, the other hit his square in the chest. It knocked him on his back, punching the breath out of his lungs. As Namjoon laid there trying to catch his breath, the woman grabbed Ishani by the arm and pulled her towards the SUV.

               “Who are you?!” Jimin shouted. Ishani was struggling to get up from where she was laying beside the SUV.

               The woman didn’t respond. She only smirked, then dove straight into river.

               Jimin threw himself over Jungkook. Namjoon only had a split second to turn his back before the SUV exploded.

                 Once the ringing in his ears faded, Namjoon looked up. Jimin was peeling himself off of Jungkook. He looked behind him and his breath caught. Ishani was gone. Her body was one with the flaming wreckage of the SUV.

               “Fuck… FUCK!” Yoongi shouted. He sighed a crackling sigh then said, “Your -ide… almost there. Just -et ba-…”

               Another black SUV pulled up. Namjoon peeled himself off the ground and helped Jimin carry Jungkook to the car. They got him into the backseat with Jimin and Namjoon took the front seat. The man driving didn’t say a word to him. He wore a face mask over the bottom half of his face and sunglasses over his eyes.

               A soon as Namjoon was in his seat, he opened his jacket to see the bullet lodged in the center of his Kevlar vest. He hissed as he pulled it out, knowing there would be a nasty bruise under there later.

               “Who are you?” Namjoon asked.

               “A friend,” the driver said.

               Namjoon eyed the inside of the car, trying to gain some kind of insight to who this man is. The car was clean, everything looked brand new. The screen in the center counsel offered the time, outside temperature, and a compass telling them that they were headed south-east. The little insignia in the corner of the screen caught Namjoon’s attention though.

               “Pull over,” said Namjoon. “We’ll walk from here.”

               “What?” Jimin asked from the backseat. “We can’t carry him like this!”

               “We’re almost there-“ the man  began.

               “No, it’s okay. We can get there ourselves,” said Namjoon. “Stop the car.”

               “Hyung, what are you-“ Jimin said before being interrupted by Yoongi.

               “Namjoon. Trust me,” he said. “He said he’s a friend. Trust that he is.”

               Namjoon’s stomach twisted in knots the whole drive back to the apartment. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run, but he know there would be no way to escape the car with an unconscious team member. When they pulled up to the front of Namjoon’s apartment building, he leapt out of the car and pulled Jungkook out of the backseat himself, carrying him bridal style through the doors of the building, Jimin stumbling to keep up.

               Once they were in the apartment, Namjoon laid Jungkook on the couch and went to Yoongi, who was at the desk. Namjoon tore his earpiece out and said, “What the hell? You said to trust you, and I really want to, but you know what this looks like right?”

               Jin, Taehyung, and Jimin, who was knelt next to Jungkook, stared at the exchange with wide eyes.

               “I can explain,” said Yoongi.

               “Yeah, you’d better fucking explain why our ride was NIS,” said Namjoon. Jin, Taehyung and Jimin gasped.

               “He’s a friend,” said Yoongi. “Just trust me. He’s with us.”

               “How can we be sure?” Namjoon asked.

               Yoongi sighed and looked away. “I don’t know.”

               “Then I can find another hacker,” said Namjoon.

               “Wait! Let him prove himself to you,” said Yoongi. “Next time you’re in trouble, let him get you out of it.”

               “Do you realize how risky that is?” Jin asked, coming around the couch to meet them at the desk. “We’d be putting everything on the line, just on sheer faith. We don’t even know you that well.”

               “I promise you, he wants this to happen as much as you all do,” said Yoongi. “He’ll do everything he can to take Hawthorne down.”

               “Then let him prove it,” said Namjoon. “And if he sabotages us, you both better run.”