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moonylantsovs · 3 years ago

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RULES | 1.01: THE PILOT

summary: the daughter of Marcus Kane gets sent down to the ground with 99 other teenage criminals and a fake guard on her eighteenth birthday, deciding to take charge of the camp along with the two people she never thought she'd get along with after her previous experience with authority and the privileged.

pairings: john murphy x fem!oc, bellamy blake x fem!oc ( slowburn )

warnings: best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, swearing, daddy issues, minor character deaths, nothing major/graphic yet

series masterlist

a/n: I've made some changes to the story so I chose to delete all the chapters I've posted here and just republish everything again. expect updates coming every monday and friday!

Gabriella Kane never knew peace.

At least not in this stupid metal box that sucked all of her will to live right out of her.

It has been ninety-seven years since the nuclear apocalypse killed everyone on Earth and left the planet simmering in radiation. Unfortunately for Gabriella Kane, there were survivors. Twelve nations had operational space stations at the time of the bombs. The only station left was called The Ark. Everyone was told the Earth needed another hundred years to become survivable again. That meant there were supposed to be four more space-locked generations until the human race could go home, back to the ground.

And that was what Gabriella always wanted.

To go down to Earth and finally be free from The Ark and Jaha's rules. If people knew better they would think she's your typical spoiled brat from Alpha Station. Since her father was Marcus Kane. But they knew better

Gabriella got arrested at the age of seventeen along with her best friend John Murphy for setting fire to a guard's room. She knew that if they were found out they would get arrested. And every person that commits any type of crime would be punished by death, if they were underage they'd get executed as soon as they turned eighteen. But Gabriella didn't have much to lose. She and Murphy met around the age of fifteen and they soon became inseparable. By the time she turned sixteen, she stopped hanging out with her privileged friends and only hung out with him and some kids from Mecha Station who worked with her.

She has spent years reading books about the Earth and looking down at it through the windows. She always wanted to feel what the ground felt like beneath her feet and how the rain would feel on her skin.

That was her dream.

But her reality? Today was her eighteenth birthday and she was supposed to be floated any time soon.

Gabriella has been in the sky-box for more than a year, only being allowed outside so she could attend classes. Even then, she was usually separated from Murphy, something she was sure her father made sure of.

There were a lot of things she realized while locked up. The first one was that she was pretty much in love with her best friend and the second one...she hated her father more than she originally thought.

Surprisingly, Gabriella didn't really care that she was gonna get floated today. To her, it just meant she wouldn't have to stare at The Ark walls until she died from old age. The bonus was if Marcus Kane was the one who was supposed to press the button. First doing it to his wife and then his daughter.

It would be ironic really.

And because of that, she didn't fight when the guards barged into her room. She just raised an eyebrow, put the knife she was previously twirling around in her hands, and tucked it in the old boots she was wearing. For extra measure.

"Prisoner 3-2-4, face the wall."

She did as she was told hearing the other guard say, "Hold out your right arm."

Gabriella furrowed her eyebrows, she was pretty sure that wasn't how the procedure is supposed to go, "I get it if you're into some kinky shit but I'm supposed to be getting floated, not reenact Fifty Shades of Grey."

The guards ignored her and one of them stepped forward to grab her arm, putting a metal wristband around her wrist. She felt a sting in her arm but didn't want to give them the satisfaction of wincing so she kept glaring at them.

She quickly grew confused when she saw her father walk in but that confusion shifted into anger at his blank expression.

"Came here to gloat?" she barked out but her father didn't seem affected by the venom in her voice.

Kane shook his head and placed his hands on her shoulders, "Listen to me closely. You are not being floated. You are being sent to the ground. All one hundred of you."

Gabriella furrowed her eyebrows, "What the hell are you talking about? It's not safe yet. Not for another four generations."

She saw her father's face fall before he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, the action making her blink in surprise, "Take care of yourself."

And then everything went black.

When Gabriella finally opened her eyes she was strapped to a chair in a dropship with ninety-nine other delinquents. She looked around in alarm, soon finding herself face to face with a smirking blue-eyed boy who sat opposite her.

"John? Where are we?"

"Hell." He stated with an amused smirk.

She rolled her eyes and sat up more, "Explains you being here."

Murphy's smirk slowly turned into a genuine smile, "I missed you too, Ellie."

Gabriella tried to fight back a smile but failed miserably, "Of course you did. I'm awesome. What's not to miss?"

The only response she got was a breathy chuckle before the dropship lights flickered and a crash was heard. Murphy sat up straight with a slightly panicked look on his pale face, "What the hell was that?"

Trying to suppress a groan at the situation she found herself in, the Kane girl simply responded, "The atmosphere."

Murphy didn't even have time to react since the monitor turned on revealing a video with Thelonious Jaha on it, "Prisoners of The Ark, hear me now. You've been given a second chance. And as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you but a chance for all of us. Indeed for mankind itself. We have no idea what's waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better we would've sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable."

Gabriella and Murphy both wore similar scowls when they looked back at each other.

"Your dad's a dick, Wells!" a male voice yelled, making Gabriella look around in confusion.

Wells was here?

She scoffed to herself and turned to look at Murphy "I can't believe Jaha would actually send his own son down here to die."

He huffed "Nothing surprises me anymore."

"Your crimes will be forgotten and records wiped clean. The drop site has been chosen carefully. Before the Last War, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain 300 people."

Gabriella tuned out the rest of his speech once she saw a familiar boy floating around the dropship.

"Spacewalker bandit strikes again!"

The teenager floated straight towards her as other delinquents kept cheering him on "Long time no see, Ella."

Gabriella and Finn have known each other for a while now. They met through their mutual friend Raven and stayed friends mainly through her but Gabriella wouldn't say she was close to the boy.

She still grinned cooly at him and nodded "Hey, Collins. I heard all about your spacewalk back in the sky-box."

"I'm popular even in jail. What a surprise." he joked making her chuckle lightly while he continued floating around.

"Mount Weather is life. You must locate those supplies immediately. You have one responsibility, stay alive."

In a flash, Finn and the two boys who followed him out of their seats crashed to the floor and the dropship started speeding, lights flickering even more.

"We are so gonna die!" Gabriella faintly heard her best friend panic over the loud noise in the crowded dropship.

"Everything here is over a hundred years old. Give it a minute to start working." the blonde snapped in return but gripped his hand tightly nonetheless.

There was a loud crash telling them the dropship landed and everyone slowly caught their breath. Gabriella looked around to see if she could spot any familiar faces before she let go of Murphy's hand and let out a sigh.

"Listen. No machine hum." a familiar voice was heard and Gabriella smiled to herself already recognizing who the voice belonged to.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and faintly heard another voice add a sarcastic 'well that's a first' but didn't have time to process who it belonged to because she worriedly rushed over to stand next to Finn who was hovering above the two unconscious boys on the floor.

"Finn, is he breathing?" she asked, putting an arm on his shoulder. The girl let out a sigh when he shook his head and looked towards the stairs leading to the bottom floor.

Murphy grabbed her wrist and nodded towards the door getting a nod in return. As the pair got to the first floor, they heard a familiar female voice call out, "We can't just open the doors!"

"Just back it up guys!" a deep male voice yelled causing Gabriella to furrow her eyebrows. She made her way to the front of the crowd to see an older guy dressed in a guard's uniform that made her narrow her eyes.

"Stop! The air could be toxic!" the same girl yelled as she made her way to the front, not aware her ex-best friend was standing a few steps next to her.

"If the air's toxic we're all dead anyway." the man in the guard's uniform simply shrugged.

It was obvious Clarke was about to argue but a voice from the back interrupted with a soft, "Bellamy?"

His head snapped to the sound of the female voice and his features completely softened once she walked in front of him. "Oh my, God. Look how big you are."

They exchanged a heartfelt hug that made Gabriella's eyes slightly soften. She knew who the girl was. Everyone did. But she actually remembered her from a few of her classes. The girls were not really friends but they talked a few times. It was enough to know she was a good kid.

"What the hell are you wearing?" the raven-haired girl asked, pointing to his jacket. "A guard's uniform?"

"I borrowed it to get in the dropship. Someone's gotta keep an eye on you." he told her quietly but the people at the front could still hear the conversation.

Gabriella turned around to whisper to Murphy with a small smirk, "So he is not a real guard. Which means we are gonna have freedom until The Ark comes down."

The boy mirrored her smirk. "You mean if they come down."

The duo snapped out of their little bubble when the siblings shared another hug which Clarke interrupted with another one of her unnecessary questions, "Where's your wristband?"

Way to ruin the moment Clarke. Gabriella thought with a bitter scowl on her face, a contrast to the easy-going look she was sporting before.

"Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a year." Octavia snapped, making the Kane girl smirk at her attitude. She already liked her.

That sentence was enough to make the crowd start whispering and Octavia quickly snapped her attention to them. The young girl was about to lunge forward but her brother held her back, leaning down to whisper, "Hey, let's give them something else to remember you by."

"Yeah, like what?"

Bellamy grinned at his annoyed sister, "Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years."

"Ninety-seven." Gabriella corrected under her breath and heard her male best friend let out a faint chuckle.

The older Blake either did not hear her comment or chose to ignore her correction. He turned his back on the impatient crowd of delinquents and reached for the lever, opening the doors and making them come face to face with planet Earth. Bellamy made everyone get behind so Octavia could walk out on her own. She took a few small steps and breathed the air in, then made her way to the bottom of the door and finally stepped on the ground to yell "We're back bitches!"

Gabriella watched as the delinquents made their way outside while jumping around and cheering. She turned to look at Murphy who was standing behind her and watching her with a small smile. "Ladies first."

The blonde chuckled before slowly stepping down the door and breathing in the fresh air that made her smile. She looked around at the trees and flowers all around her and her smile grew impossibly larger. She was on Earth.

Before she actually stepped on the ground she turned back at Murphy and offered him her hand, "Together?"

He nodded and took her hand. "Together."

The pair took a step down and stood firmly on the ground. Gabriella turned around to look at Murphy but before she could think about saying anything he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight, spinning her a little in the process.

She squealed in surprise but didn't hesitate to hug the boy back, "Yeah, yeah, I missed you too."

"I think this is the best gift you could have gotten today." Murphy announced with a grin.

Gabriella faked a disappointed expression. "I mean I'd really prefer getting floated over being here with you but a girl can dream right?"

"Ouch." he mocked hurt, making her chuckle.

"You, mind?" A voice echoed through the camp, making the pair turn their attention to the dropship door where Wells just pushed a boy with goggles back. Gabriella recognized the boy as Jasper Jordan and the way the chancellor's son pushed him back made her blood boil.

"Hey!" The blonde called as she walked up to them with John and a few other delinquents behind her, "Back off, Chancellor Junior. He's with us."

"We're just trying to figure out where we are." He defended himself, making her scoff.

"We're on the ground. That not good enough for you?" A male voice from behind them asked.

Gabriella turned around to see it was Bellamy with his sister right next to him. Wells followed her gaze and said, "We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority."

"Screw your father." Octavia sneered, joining the discussion, "What? You think you're in charge here? You and your little princess?"

Gabriella nodded with a smirk which dropped into a scowl once again as her blonde ex-best friend spoke up, "You think we care who's in charge? We need to get to Mount Weather. Not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this will be. How long do you think we'll last without those supplies? We're looking at a twenty-mile trek, okay? So if we wanna get there before dark, we need to leave. Now."

The Kane girl cleared her throat to bring everyone's attention to her and stepped closer, "Or you and your little boyfriend can go and do the hard work since you care about getting there so much. I don't know about you Princess, but we took Earth Skills for a reason. We don't need to do what Jaha says anymore. But you heard him, we're on the ground now, which means we're on our own."

Bellamy looked at the girl with a smirk before turning to look at Clarke and agreeing, "She's right. We should let the privileged do the hard work for a change."

There were sounds of agreement coming from the criminals around them, but Clarke didn't hear them since she was completely focused on the Kane that just told her off. The girls have not spoken in what felt like ages. They were inseparable since they were kids but Clarke just started pulling away and Gabriella didn't know what else to do so she just let her go. Neither of them made any effort to reconnect; with Clarke basically ghosting her and with Gabriella not wanting to put effort into a one-sided friendship.

"You're not listening. We all need to go." Wells yelled pleadingly, but Murphy cut him off by pushing him back.

"Look at this, everybody. It's the chancellor of Earth."

Gabriella chuckled at her best friend's words and crossed her arms over her chest with a small amused smirk.

"You think that's funny?"

The only response that Wells got was Murphy pushing him back further. He stumbled before he fell to the ground and twisted his ankle in the process. Murphy chuckled under his breath, "No, but that was."

Wells quickly got off the floor, stumbling a bit because of his foot. The boys got ready to fight before a male figure jumped from the dropship and between them. Gabriella only realized that that was Finn when he faced Murphy with a challenging look on his face and spoke up, "The kid's got one leg. How about you wait until it's a fair fight?"

Gabriella raised an eyebrow at the boy and shrugged. "Or Griffin here, could keep her dog on a leash and do us all a favour."

Wells made a show of scowling at her but Clarke couldn't find herself meeting her gaze and kept looking at the floor.

"Hey, Spacewalker." Octavia broke the argument by stepping closer to Finn and giving him a flirty look, "Rescue me next."

Finn grinned at the younger girl while Gabriella rolled her eyes and grabbed Murphy's arm, preparing to walk away. But before she did, she gave Jasper and Monty ( who barely took their eyes off of her since she stepped into the conversation ) a toothy grin, "Good to see you boys too."

The two best friends grinned as they watched her walk away, excited that one of their closest friends was there too.

Gabriella was distracted watching Clarke and Finn gather their group for Mount Weather so she didn't notice a taller male figure come up behind her.

"You're not going? I thought you were gonna be the first to sign up?"

The blonde snapped her head to the source of the voice and quickly tackled the taller male in a hug "Sam? What the hell are you doing here?"

Sam Sydney was Gabriella's oldest friend and the only childhood friend she kept in touch with. He may didn't like the fact that she was hanging out with people like John Murphy but they still kept hanging out. Murphy's dislike for him had more to do with the fact that Sam always had a thing for her than the fact that he was one of the privileged. But he never said anything about it so he remained her only friend from Alpha.

He grinned teasingly, "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"I am! It's just ── how the hell did you get arrested?" she asked, pulling away.

"I helped Wells burn the last Ark tree. I wanted to keep an eye on you and you know Wells goes wherever Clarke goes, even now that she hates his guts." he shrugged with a smirk, "You still didn't answer my question."

"What do you want me to do? Go on a day trip with Clarke? Willingly?" she shook her head and scoffed, "Someone's gotta keep things here in place. And I'll be damned if that turns out to be the fake guard."

"Someone doesn't handle authority well." Sam said, knowingly.

Gabriella pursed her lips with a shrug. "Depends on who it is. But that guy is up to something and I'm gonna figure out what it is. I'll see you around." She gave him one last grin before walking away.

"Find any water yet?" Murphy asked as he, Gabriella, and Mbege walked up to Wells, who was gathering wood for the fire.

"Not yet." He looked up. "I'm going back out if you wanna come."

He turned around to continue what he was doing but the words on the drop ship caught his attention:

"First son first to dye"

Gabriella figured Murphy and Mbege wrote that while she left them alone and couldn't help but chuckle at the terrible spelling. Murphy rubbed his nose with the hand that was still holding the knife he carved the writing in the dropship with, before he spoke coldly "You know, my father, he begged for mercy in the air-lock chamber when your father floated him."

Wells ignored his words and started walking off, bumping their shoulders together when he brushed passed him and huffing, "You spelled die wrong, geniuses."

Gabriella crossed her arms over her chest as she watched Wells walk away, addressing the two boys next to her with a ghost of a smirk, "That kid is gonna be easy to break."

"If you're gonna kill someone, it's probably best not to announce it."

The blonde turned around to see Bellamy standing in front of them. She narrowed her blue eyes at his uniform before letting them connect with his own. "Just trying to scare him a bit. There is no need to take any drastic measures yet."

Murphy nodded and chuckled, him too eying the guards uniform Bellamy was wearing. "You're not really a member of the Guard, are you?"

"No. The real Guard will be here soon unless we stop it. You don't actually think they're gonna forgive your crimes?" Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest, "Even if they do, then what? People like us, we're gonna become citizens now? Get jobs? If we're lucky, maybe pick up their trash."

Gabriella looked at him with narrowed eyes before letting a small smirk ghost her lips. For some reason, he didn't want The Ark to come down. But it wasn't for the reason he was telling them. He must've done something so fucked up to get down here. The Ark would probably kill him instantly if they found him on the ground with the hundred. She doubted that his sneaking onto that ship was legal. Especially since he was not an actual guard.

"You got a point?" Mbege snapped, getting impatient listening to his mocking.

"No. I have a question. They locked you up, dumped you down here like lab rats to die. So why are you helping them?" Bellamy questioned, faking curiosity.

"The hell we are."

"You're wearing those bracelets aren't you?" he taunted, "Those things are telling them whether or not it's safe to follow us down."

"Okay, so you said we could stop it. How?" Murphy asked, making his best friend raise an eyebrow at him. She couldn't believe he was really buying this bullshit.

"Take them off. The Ark will think you're dead. That it isn't safe to follow. You follow?"

"Right." Murphy grinned. "And if we do, I mean what's in it for us?"

Bellamy's smirk grew at how easy it was to get them to follow along with his plan. "Someone's gotta help me run things." His attention quickly turned to the girl in the group and he added, "Especially you. They seem to listen to you. You're from Alpa, right? But you are still one of them."

"Oh, I know they listen to me." Gabriella lifted her chin up to meet his gaze, "But I'm not gonna be using that to help you."

She had two options. She could take the wristband off and piss her father off which was getting exhausting since she realized he stopped caring a long time ago, and she could keep the wristband on and piss Bellamy off. The second option seemed much more appealing at the moment. She could always take the wristband off when she got bored.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow "And why is that?"

Gabriella turned to the two Johns behind her and motioned for them to leave them alone. Once they walked away far enough so they were out of earshot, she turned back to Bellamy.

"I don't know if you already realized this, Blake, but I don't do well with authority." She stepped closer so they were almost chest-to-chest. "I don't know what you did to get down here. But unless you get out of my way, I won't hesitate to find out. You aren't one of us and it's only a matter of time until they realize that. It's obvious you're only here to protect your little sister. You don't actually care about any of us. I get that. You're her big brother and that is what you are supposed to do. But I'm also pretty sure there's another reason you don't want The Ark to come down here." She swore she saw a flash of fear in his eyes which he instantly tried to cover up with anger. Her smirk grew and she tilted her head. "I'd be extra nice to me down here, Blake. Haven't you heard that a foreign king usually ends up dead?"

Bellamy narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched tight. "Was that a threat?"

She smiled innocently and shrugged, "I don't know. Was it?"

#the 100 #the hundred #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #john murphy #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x reader #john murphy x reader #john murphy imagine #john murphy x oc #clarke griffin #octavia blake #wells jaha

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opal-earrings · 3 years ago

Text

On So Many Levels

Chapter 1/3

by @opal-earrings for @imyoursavinggrace for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange ! I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Summary:

Tony’s supposed to be finding Spider-Man’s identity--but that’s the last thing on his mind right now. Avengers Tower is under attack, and Tony’s trapped in an elevator with the surprisingly resourceful teenager he’s just discovered is his soulmate.

AO3 Link

How hard could it really be to fake your own death?

Well, just a medical emergency would suffice, Tony supposed. A heart attack, maybe, given how regularly he liked to remind the rest of the Avengers about the delicate state of his cardiovascular system. Or perhaps just a mild dysrhythmia to explain away his immediate recovery as soon as he got away from his damned conference room.

The conference room, and Steve’s festive crime against Tony’s retinas.

Seriously, where had the guy who refused to learn what “the Google” was found a Captain America-themed Christmas sweater that was simultaneously red, white, blue, and such an alarming shade of green? No wonder Tony could barely focus on whatever the hell Fury was talking about.

Tony wasn’t even convinced this meeting required his presence. Steve had decided it did, however, and unfortunately Tony had to listen to Steve. For some godforsaken reason, someone had put Captain Spangles in charge of the Avengers, and now it was Tony who had to suffer the consequences.

Maybe Fury had been right when he’d originally rejected him from the Avengers Initiative for—how had SHIELD phrased it? —not playing well with others.

Tony couldn’t see it himself.

But Pepper insisted that listening to their fearless leader, even when he was wearing a headache-inducing sweater, was A, part of being a team player, and B, something Tony needed to work on. And Tony loved Pepper, so regrettably, he had to listen to her when she told him to listen to Steve.

Loving Pepper, however, didn’t make this meeting and less unbearable. This one, or any of the other meetings Tony was forced to attend because he was an Avenger. They were his own personal purgatory, his cross to bear, and other melodramatic metaphors that always made Pepper roll her eyes and joke that this was why the two of them weren’t soulmates.

“I’d never have a soulmate who was such an ass,” she often told him.

“No, but you’d agree to marry one,” had been Tony’s go-to response ever since she finally actually had.

Deciding that Pepper definitely wouldn’t be impressed if she learned he’d faked a medical emergency, Tony forced himself to tune back into Fury’s lecture.

In theory, this meeting had been of vague interest to Tony: possible recruits to the Avengers. Had. After fifteen minutes of discussing vigilantes’ possible character flaws, Tony had kind of tuned out. And, regrettably, he chose to tune back in just as a certain red-and-blue menace appeared on the next slide of Fury’s very fancy PowerPoint presentation.

Maybe facing Pepper’s wrath wouldn’t be so bad, Tony lamented as everyone turned to him.

“Stark,” said Fury, the first interesting thing to come out of his mouth today. “It’s been months. Are you any closer to finding Spider-Man’s identity?”

Right. The crime-fighting Spider-Man. Well, ‘Man’. The Spiderling wished. Head-to-toe spandex couldn’t hide when his voice cracked.

Tony knew Spider-Man was on his to-do list. It was just a lot of things were. Finding the guy’s identity was more of an ego thing to Tony, but, as a superhero, his ego wasn’t exactly withering.

“You know,” said Tony, “he’s surprisingly technologically literate, that one. FRIDAY’s got his YouTube notifications on, but he’s really scrambling that old signal. He could be posting from Siberia for all FRIDAY can find.”

Fury was unimpressed, but when wasn’t he? “You haven’t started.”

Tony sighed. “Look, I’ll get around to it. He’s not exactly going anywhere. And I highly doubt he’s going to crack and become a supervillain any time soon. I swear to God, if FRIDAY sends me a video of him trying and failing to rescue a cat from a tree one more time—”

“I want results, Stark.”

“Don’t we all?”

Tony didn’t really understand why SHIELD wanted to recruit these vigilantes anyway. New recruits could throw the team’s whole dynamic off, especially given Tony was notoriously difficult to get along with. Tony also thought the animal kingdom was already well represented with Sam, Natasha, and Clint. Did they strictly need various cats, squirrels or, God forbid, spiders joining the team?

Thankfully, before Fury could rip into Tony again, Tony’s watch buzzed. It was Pepper, reminding him that he was scheduled to make an appearance in the R&D department in ten.

Tony stood. “Gonna have to cut you short, Nick. That was Pepper. I’ve got to run.”

Namedropping Pepper instantly lent his excuse more credibility, and Nick nodded his reluctant acknowledgment.

A smattering of goodbyes followed Tony out the door. He heaved a sigh of relief once finally free of that oppressive conference room, filing the meeting away in the back of his mind to never think about again. Maybe he’d actually remember to make some progress on Spider-Boy’s identity before the next one.

The beginnings of a headache twinged at Tony’s temples as he waited for the elevator. God damn it, Steve. As soon as he took that damn sweater off Tony was going to order FRIDAY to incinerate it.

The elevator arrived with a quiet ding.

When the doors opened, however, it was not the empty, quiet haven Tony had hoped for. Instead, a pale, slightly panicked teenager occupied one corner. There was a white visitor’s badge pinned to his plaid shirt and he nervously tugged at the shirt’s hem. His face went slack when he recognized Tony, that starstruck look Tony knew all too well. Tony waited for him to recover with a raised eyebrow. After a moment, the kid gathered himself and awkwardly stepped out of the way of the buttons.

Tony’s stomach swooped as the elevator started moving. In the mirror, he saw the teenager glance at him, eyebrows still screwed up in panic. Tony caught his eye and raised an eyebrow.

“You good there? You’re looking a little green around the edges.”

The teenager startled. He smiled hesitantly before he apparently decided against it and schooled his features.

“Uh, yeah, it’s just… I got separated from my tour group and I ended up somewhere I don’t think I was meant to be, and I thought I’d gotten away with it and then literally Iron Man shows up. Iron Man. I’ve been sleeping in bedsheets with your face on them since I was nine.”

The kid went white a moment later.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself. “Oh my God, why the hell did I just tell him that?”

Tony snorted. “Don’t worry, kid. Reprimanding a teenager who wandered away from their tour group is a little below Iron Man’s pay grade. And given my track record of avoiding meetings, reporting you for not being where you’re meant to would be a little hypocritical of me.”

The kid nodded. He looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet.

“Um… Mr. Stark? Iron Man? Sir?”

Christ. “Just Tony’s fine, kid. Spit it out.”

“Right. Um… I don’t want to bother you, but since we’re both here, um, would you mind taking a selfie? My friends will never believe me when I say I met you. Um… if that’s okay?”

“Sure. Bring it in.”

Tony always liked to indulge the fans, especially the kids.

The kid smiled like he couldn’t believe Tony had said yes, and then he began rooting around in his backpack. Before he could pull out his phone, however, the elevator shuddered to an abrupt halt. The lights flickered and went out, as did the screen displaying their floor number. After a moment, emergency lighting washed the elevator in red LED light.

Tony frowned. Was that a power outage? In his building? That shouldn’t be able to happen.

He jabbed at the button to open the doors. Nothing happened.

The elevator was stuck.

Ignoring the kid, who was watching Tony awkwardly with his phone grasped in one hand, Tony tried the alert bell. After a few minutes with no response, Tony gave that up for lost and tapped his watch.

“FRIDAY?”

She didn’t respond, which also shouldn’t happen. That was two shouldn’t happens in a row and it made Tony’s stomach sink.

“Is something happening?”

Tony looked up from his watch. The kid was staring at him with a worried crease between his eyebrows, and one of his hands had crept up to rub at the back of his neck.

For a moment, Tony considered his usual tactic with young civilians—everything is fine, look, Iron Man is here, he’ll save the day—but he stopped himself. There was something perceptive and almost resigned in the kid’s eyes, as if he’d already caught on to Tony’s growing suspicions even before Tony was willing to admit to them.

By something, Tony knew the kid meant more than just the elevator getting stuck.

“Possibly,” said Tony, deciding not to condescend the kid’s intelligence. FRIDAY was still silent, so he dropped his wrist. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Uh, Peter.”

“Okay Uh, Peter.” Tony dug his fingers into his left arm, trying to remain poised for Peter’s sake. “Let’s hope your tour group isn’t missing you took much. And—uh, you’re not claustrophobic, are you?”

“No?”

“Oh, good. ‘cause we might be here for a while.”

The kid’s eyes widened.

“But not for too long!” Tony interjected. He didn’t want Peter to panic. Being trapped in an elevator with something possibly sinister happening was bad enough. He didn’t need to be trapped with a panicking civilian. “I’m working on it. I’ve got it.”

“You don’t look like you’ve got it. Your AI isn’t responding!”

Uh. What? No. Tony didn’t like that. Teenagers Tony was trying to keep safe should not be calling Tony out on his barely structurally stable lies.

Before Tony could defend himself, however, a nearby explosion cut him off. The entire elevator shuddered. Peter flinched and turned to Tony, eyes wide with fear. It brought out a protective instinct in Tony that he didn’t much care to examine.

“That sounded close,” said Peter, one hand braced against the wall.

“Felt it, too. Goddammit, I already had to renovate half the tower after the Chitauri.”

Tony sighed. This situation was rapidly spiraling, and he could already tell this kid was too intelligent to trust him if he kept spouting lies.

“Right. Well. You were correct. I haven’t got it. Well done, gold star for you. My AI isn’t responding, which shouldn’t be able to happen, and without her I can’t contact the rest of the Avengers.”

Peter nodded, eyes serious. You didn’t call the Avengers to rescue you from an elevator.

The kid went to speak but changed his mind and chewed his lip for a moment instead. “What… what should we do?”

“Give me your phone.”

Tony’s own phone had been strategically forgotten in his office, left to blink quietly with all the calls FRIDAY knew not to forward to his watch.

Peter was still holding his phone from their now forgotten selfie. The thing was cracked and looked old enough that it was a wonder it even had the processing power to make a phone call.

“I haven’t got signal,” Peter said as he handed it over.

Tony fiddled with Peter’s phone for a moment, but the kid was right. There was no way that hunk of junk was going to help him contact the team.

Tony groaned and handed the phone back to Peter. “I won’t hold that against it. That thing looks like it couldn’t get signal if you were standing under a tower. Hate to plug my own products, but—”

He was interrupted by a second explosion. This time, it was further away, but still close enough to rattle the floor. Tony gripped the support rail, cursing himself for being so eager to leave the meeting. Would it really have hurt to stare at Steve’s disgusting sweater for another minute if it meant he wouldn’t have been trapped in an elevator while someone tried to break his damn building?

Another explosion, even closer. Tony slammed against the wall, and, with a cry, Peter was knocked off his feet. Tony’s hand shot out to catch him—and the second Tony’s fingers brushed against Peter’s palm, a hot spark shot down Tony’s wrist. He gasped and reflexively yanked his hand backward; Peter landed on his ass and did the same thing. Hissing between his teeth, Peter cradled his arm against his chest.

Everything seemed to fade into slow motion. The burning heat faded out to a strange warmth beneath Tony’s skin, simmering behind his sternum. Endorphins shot through his bloodstream, and all Tony could focus on was the kid right in front of him.

No.

No—this—this wasn’t possible—

Tony’s usually great mind misfired. Intellectually, he knew what had just happened, but he didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it—this wasn’t something that happened to him. This was a distant dream, something he only ever witnessed second-hand—

“Oh my God,” Peter groaned from the floor. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and frowned to himself. “What the hell just—”

He yanked his sleeve down and cut himself off with a choked gasp.

A second later, his eyes shot up to meet Tony’s.

“Oh my—oh my God—!”

Head spinning, Tony yanked his own sleeve down, revealing the vein-streaked skin of his inner wrist. There written in youthful, spiky handwriting, was—

Peter Parker.

Only one word flitted back and forth across Tony’s mind.

“Soulmate,” Peter whispered, reverent. “You’re my—you’re my soulmate?”

Tony’s wrist snapped back down. He forced himself to look Peter in the eyes—to look his soulmate in the eyes—and try to come to terms with the fact that the greatest moment of his life had just happened, just then, and he was entirely uncertain what he was supposed to do now.

“I—” he stuttered. Him, Tony Stark, stuttering.

This far into his life, he’d long since given up hope of ever finding his soulmate. He’d convinced himself he was just one of the unlucky ones, and despite everything he’d given to the universe over the last few years, all the sacrifices he’d made as a superhero, the universe hadn’t decided to give him anything back.

And yet—and yet here he was. Here was Tony’s reward for changing his ways. His soulmate, in the flesh, the greatest gift the universe could ever have given him.

“I—”

Whatever Tony had been about to say was cut off by another explosion that rattled the elevator.

Right. Tony shook his head, like that could get rid of the endorphins coursing through his body. The greatest moment of his life, and yet outside the mirrored walls of this elevator, the Tower was still under attack.

“Okay,” he said gently, helping Peter back onto his feet. “Alright. Okay. Damn, kid—is this common for you? Giving people absolute heart attacks? Cause, Jeez—anyway. Biggest moment of our lives, kid, but I’m about to ruin it, okay? Trust me, I’m finding it pretty damn hard to think right now but we need to shelve this.”

“Right,” said Peter, nodding up at him earnestly.

If Tony had thought Peter looked at him like he’d hung the moon and stars before…

“Right,” Tony agreed. “Sorry to ruin the moment. Welcome to being associated with Iron Man, I guess. Goddamn. Biggest moment of my life and the Tower’s still under attack. Okay. I—Jesus, kid, you couldn’t have sent a memo or something to warn me you weren’t even born yet back when I was having midlife crises about never finding my soulmate?”

Shit. Goddammit. That was a little more personal than Tony had intended. Those soulmate endorphins really were something, huh?

“I mean, I sent you fan mail,” Peter said. “Pretty sure I wrote my age on it. It’s your own fault if you didn’t read it.”

“You sent me fan mail?”

As soon as this was over, Tony would be sending someone to search the archive for that. If they even still had it. They’d better still have it.

Peter’s ears went red. “Look, I wasn’t kidding about the Iron Man bedsheets, okay?”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll have to tell me where you got those things. I’m thinking Christmas gifts for all the Avengers.” Then Tony forced himself to set his jaw. “But for now—we need to get out of here, kid.”

Tony looked over the elevator again, as though the mirrored walls would offer any help.

��We need to get you to safety. That’s our number one goal, okay? Whether that means leaving you in a secure location within the Tower, or getting you outside and behind the safety barriers, I’m not sure yet. We’ll assess that as we go. Just—listen to me. I’ll figure it out when I figure it out, okay?”

“Listen to you, and don’t wander off, right?” Peter said with a wry grin.

“Yes. No wandering off. Don’t even think about it. We—we need to talk after this is all over. Exchange phone numbers, life stories, and all that.”

Peter looked up at Tony like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“First thing’s first, I’m going to rewire this elevator and see if I can safely get us out. Alright?”

Peter nodded, his lips pressed together. Tony leaned over and ripped the control panel away from the elevator wall, revealing the exposed wiring underneath. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work, narrating for Peter’s sake as he worked.

“Rewiring an elevator should be pretty simple. For me. Do not try this at home, kiddo. I’ve shocked myself enough times on the suits that I’m immune, but that is not the human standard. I also would not recommend tampering with any elevator you are currently standing in, although hopefully that’s common sense—”

Tony was cut off by a sudden, metallic groaning. His eyes snapped up to the kid’s reflection in the mirror. Peter had his fingers wedged between the doors of the elevator, and his face was screwed up with effort.

“Um,” said Tony, turning to look over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Peter jumped and blinked at Tony innocently. “Uh, well, I think I can get the doors open.”

Tony glanced at Peter’s skinny arms. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I… I got it.”

And to Tony’s amazement, he did. The hydraulic doors tried to close on Peter a few times, but with a grunt of effort, Peter forced them open.

The grimy, oil-stained wall of the elevator shaft greeted them. Perfect.

Curse the upper floors’ high ceilings.

Tony glanced at Peter, mentally preparing himself to have to calm a panicking, claustrophobic teenager—but Peter’s head had already snapped upwards to look at the ceiling.

“There has to be an escape hatch!” he said determinedly.

Peter looked up at the ceiling, several feet above his head, and then smiled sheepishly at Tony.

“Mr. Stark, I… um, could you… I mean, would you mind—sorry, but I can’t quite reach—”

“Don’t give yourself an aneurysm, kid.”

Tony laced his hands together to give Peter a leg up. Peter took a moment to babble in embarrassment (“I can’t believe I’m about to step on Iron Man with my dirty sneakers! I’m so sorry!”) before he shrugged off his backpack and went for it (“And Iron Man is my soulmate!”). Tony lifted him, shooting pain through his aching knees, but after a moment Peter reached up and he must have grabbed ahold of something Tony couldn’t see, because his weight lifted slightly. A godsend for Tony’s joints, and he couldn’t help but groan.

“I’m so sorry!” cried Peter. His weight lifted even more. “Are you alright?”

Tony readjusted his footing. “Yeah, just—hurry up, kid. Chronic heart problems, and all that.”

“Oh my God!”

Peter used his free hand to hammer against the ceiling tiles, testing them until one finally gave a little. The kid pushed it inwards. Tony could hear him scrambling to release the hatch.

“Ugh, it won’t open!”

“That’s fine—let’s just—take a rain check—” Tony’s legs were beginning to shake.

Peter’s weight shifted and then there was a loud bang.

Did—did Peter just punch the ceiling? Was he trying to fight his way out of an elevator?

Whatever he’d done, it must have worked, because a moment later Peter whooped and climbed through.

“I did it!”

Peter disappeared through the ceiling tiles. His footsteps banged across the ceiling, and then he stuck his hand back down the gap. Tony passed up the kid’s backpack, warily eyeing the height of the ceiling.

Peter beckoned with the hand stuck through the ceiling tiles. “C’mon. Can you reach?”

“Yeah. Not sure if I’m gonna be able to climb up there, though.”

There was a long pause. “Don’t worry, Mr. Stark! Just grab my hand. I’ll pull you up.”

The kid’s arms definitely looked too skinny for that.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I got you.”

Well then. “On your back be it.”

Tony reached for Peter’s hand. The kid’s grip was surprisingly strong, and to Tony’s astonishment, he lifted Tony out of the elevator without even breaking a sweat. Peter lightly deposited Tony on the grimy top of the elevator, all without even having the grace to make it look like he was straining.

“Mr. Stark, are you alright?” Peter fussed, biting his lower lip sheepishly. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, kid. Just—wow. Is your diet one hundred percent protein?”

Peter looked downright horrified by the mere suggestion. “No! I mean—what? What do you mean?”

“Never mind. You’re just making me feel frail.”

Was he really that old, that this skinny teenager had him beat for upper body strength? Was he so old that he’d forgotten he’d ever been as strong as Peter? Seriously, his memories of teenagerhood involved a lot of struggling through mandated fitness tests, not lifting grown men with one hand.

Tony shook the thought out of his mind. Priorities. Number one: Peter’s safety. And the top of a broken-down elevator was definitely not safe.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s go.”

Peter scooped up his backpack, which was now stained with black oil, and moved past Tony to force open the doors to the elevator shaft. Strobing red light poured through the gap, along with a screeching alarm that instantly aggravated the headache Tony had almost forgotten about. There was a bit of a step up into a long corridor of offices, but it was manageable.

Feeling rather useless, Tony stepped through the gap Peter had created, then helped the kid through after him. The elevator doors shut with a clang.

Resolution settled in Tony’s gut. Okay. The alarms going off meant that one of the Avengers had initiated lockdown, which wasn’t good news. That either meant the threat was completely spiraling out of control—or that they were panicking because one member of the Avengers was entirely unaccounted for.

Tony clenched his jaw as he drew up his plans, all the moving pieces struggling to fit together.

“Okay, kid,” Tony said, raising his voice to be heard over the alarms. “We’re closer to the top of the Tower than we are the bottom, so we’re going to find a staircase and head up, okay? Once we get to the penthouse, we’ll plan from there.”

Peter’s face lit up. “We’re going up to the Avengers penthouse?”

“Yep. You can take a look around, enjoy the sights. Take your pick of the spare rooms. Once the building isn’t under siege, we’ll look into getting it redecorated for you.”

Peter’s face lit up even more. “Yeah. Yeah—wow. You’re gonna let me sleep over?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, amused. “Soulmates, right?”

Peter hugged himself. “Wow. This is the greatest day of my life.”

“Let’s hope we can actually celebrate it sometime soon,” Tony said. He patted Peter’s shoulder and then set off down the corridor, ignoring the strobing lights and whining alarms. Peter followed behind. “Now—focus up. I can’t remember where the stairwells are on this floor, so we’re going to have to go look for them, and the building might be compromised. We could be running into unfriendlies any moment now, and they’re usually not that pleased to find Avengers. So I need you to be alert, okay?”

“Not like I have much choice but to be alert with this going on.”

Tony glanced back at Peter. The kid’s face was red and screwed up, and his hands were clamped over his ears.

“Hey. Are you alright?”

Peter jumped like he’d been caught committing a crime. “Uh—yeah! I’m, um, it’s just a little loud.”

Yeah. Tony’s headache was very much making itself known with every heartbeat.

“Manageably so? Because I can’t deactivate lockdown remotely without my AI, and the Avengers aren’t going to do it either until they know where I am. Believe me, it’s driving me nuts too.”

Peter gingerly pulled his hands away from his ears. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, I… I think I can handle it.”

“Sorry about that,” Tony said as they continued past various offices, all left in various states of disarray. The staff knew to head to saferooms as soon as lockdown was initiated. Tony didn’t know where the saferooms were—this building was too damn large to memorize every inch of it—and he was fast learning that he also didn’t know where the stairwells were.

“So,” Tony continued as they took another turn down another, identical corridor. “What was I saying? Oh, right. Staying alert. Just try and tune out the alarms. You’re with me, and I’m going to keep you safe, but this situation is unpredictable. So I need you to stay alert, and the moment anything happens—anything at all—I want you to get behind me, understood?”

Silence. Tony glanced at Peter. His lips were pressed together and he was resolutely avoiding Tony’s gaze.

Tony frowned. “What, kid? Spit it out.”

Peter chewed on his lower lip. “I… I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me, Mr. Stark. You’re Iron Man!”

Tony stopped walking. Was this kid serious? “You do know who Iron Man is, right? Those bed sheets weren’t an unwanted gift? It’s my job to protect kids like you are in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But you might get hurt!”

“It doesn’t matter if I get hurt. I’m Iron Man. You, on the other hand, are a kid—”

“And you’re not Iron Man right now! You don’t have your suit. You’re just Tony Stark.”

Tony… was not sure what to make of that. But bless the universe for gifting him a soulmate who wasn’t afraid to talk back within minutes of meeting him.

“First of all,” Tony said, trying to buy himself time to think, “I resent the implication that I am ‘just’ anything—”

“You know what I mean,” Peter interrupted. “You don’t have powers. If you try to protect me, you’ll just get hurt. That’s not fair.”

Tony blinked at him.

“Peter,” he said slowly. “You don’t have to worry about me. You’re in my building, and we’re only in this situation because my security measures failed. Well, and because you wandered away from your tour group, but I promised to let that go. But it’s my fault you’re here, so it’s my job to get you to safety, okay?”

“But I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

Tony sighed deeply. “Kid. I’m the adult. And the superhero here. And your soulmate. This isn’t up for debate right now. If things start pointing south, you get behind me, because I’m not going to walk out of this knowing I let you get hurt. Capiche?”

Peter looked away, his jaw tightly clenched. For a long moment Tony thought he was going to argue again, but eventually he muttered a tight “okay” that sounded more like a “fuck you” to Tony.

Seriously, where did the universe find this kid?

Tony wouldn’t let this stubbornly selfless kid get hurt. He refused to have spent so many years longing for his soulmate, only to immediately fail to protect him.

Vowing to keep a close eye on the kid, Tony continued down the corridor.

“Come on, Pete. We’ve got to find the stairwell.”

Peter followed, his arms crossed across his chest. “Why aren’t your stairwells next to the elevators?”

“Yeah, yeah, everyone’s a critic,” Tony said, although he silently agreed. “They would have ruined the lobby’s chi. You should have suggested something when I was actually designing the building. How old would you have been then? Five? Six?”

“Ten,” Peter grumbled.

Tony smirked at Peter knowing off the top of his head when the Tower was built. And then his brain automatically did the math. Fourteen. He’d spent so long searching for someone who hadn’t even been born until Tony was thirty?

“I’m sure your expertise would have saved us both from a long and arduous trek through my air-conditioned Tower,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady as he struggled to come to terms with Peter’s age.

Peter smiled. “Well, if you ever wanna build another tower, I’m free for consultations outside of school hours and—uh. Yeah. Just don’t call me when I’m in school.”

“Noted.”

Peter grinned up at him, and then flinched as another explosion rocked the building, quickly followed by a deep rumble of thunder.

“Oh, perfect. The cavalry is here,” Tony commented as they approached a sharp corner. All the windows were shuttered, so he couldn’t tell what was going on outside, but that rumble of thunder was unmistakable. “Now if only hammer-wielding Norse gods came with a telepathy feature so we could call for an assist.”

Peter’s voice shot up several octaves. “Thor’s here?”

Tony scoffed. “I see where your loyalties lie. A Thor fan, huh? Try not to die and I’ll ask him to sign your autograph book, or whatever it is kids want these days. What was it earlier? A selfie?”

“I mean—wow. A selfie would be amazing.”

Tony turned to Peter, planning to tease him, but Peter’s face abruptly dropped and his gaze snapped to the side.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Mr. Stark!”

Peter’s hands collided with Tony’s chest and violently shoved him backward. Tony hit the wall heavily just as gunfire rained down upon them from behind the corner. The sound was deafening, and Tony’s hands flew up to cover his ears.

Peter.

The gunfire stopped, and Tony grabbed out for Peter, desperate to put himself between Peter and their attackers. But Peter dodged past him just as three black-clad men burst from around the corner. Tony cried out. In warning or in fear, he wasn’t sure.

Before Tony had a chance to think, Peter threw his weight into the first attacker. His elbow caught the man in the windpipe and he hit the floor heavily.

“Kid—!”

The other two men were hot on the other’s heels, and Peter rose to meet them. The first went down with a sharp kick to the sternum, but the next managed to land a punch square on Peter’s face. The kid stumbled backward, stunned. Tony leaped forwards, lack of tech be damned, but Peter recovered before Tony could do anything and swept the man’s feet out from underneath him. He hit his head on the way down and went still.

Peter stumbled to a halt, panting. That seemed to be the last of them, but Tony’s heart was still pounding in his ringing ears. He almost felt like he might faint.

Tony rushed to Peter and grabbed him by the shoulders. Blood poured from Peter’s nose, and his eyes were watering.

“Are you okay?” Tony demanded.

Peter wiped beneath his nose and grimaced at the blood that stained the back of his hand. “I—I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Relieved that the kid was okay, Tony immediately felt heat rush to his face.

“Then what the hell was that?” he snapped. Peter flinched and went white. “I told you to stay behind me. I don’t know if you like to think yourself a hero or what, but you’re a teenager and when I tell you to stay behind me, you stay behind me.”

For a moment Tony thought Peter might start crying, but then his face twisted in anger. “I’m not gonna stand there and do nothing if I know I can help! I knew I could fight them, and I did! I kept you safe!”

“I told you, you don’t need to protect me. My priority is getting you out of here safe, back to your family so they don’t have to worry. Now I have to give you back hurt.”

“I’m not that hurt.” Peter’s voice was sullen.

“You shouldn’t be hurt at all. Your nose might be broken.”

Peter prodded it roughly. “It’s not,” he said, suppressing a wince.

“You—” He’d heard teenagers were difficult, but he hadn’t realized that was a guarantee and not a warning. “Look, kid. Pretend to be a hero all you want once you’re back with the kids from your class. Tell them you saved Iron Man’s life if you want. But right now you’re in danger and you need to do what I tell you.”

“But—I solved the problem! I stopped the bad guys!”

“You got lucky and now your nose is split halfway across your face. If you deliberately put yourself in danger, I can’t promise I’ll be able to protect you. Do you want me to get Thor to spend his afternoon scraping your guts off the floor? Because that’s where we’re headed unless you listen from now on. Capiche?”

Peter stared at the floor, scuffing his shoes. Eventually, he grumbled, “Capiche.”

Tony nodded. “Focus up. There might be more shooters on this floor. Let’s go.”

They walked with one of Tony’s hands on Peter’s shoulder, ready to pull him behind him at a moment’s notice.

“Where did you learn to fight, anyway?”

“Uh… karate?”

“Right.”

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long before they finally found the door to the stairwell. Tony held it open for Peter with a wry smile.

They climbed the stairs slowly, wary of how many flights they needed to take up to the penthouse. In the quiet of the stairwell, their footsteps seemed as loud as the gunshots from before.

“So,” said Tony, trying not to sound quite as out of breath as he truly was. “Karate, huh?”

Peter nearly missed a step. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, karate. I, uh, my aunt always says it’s good to have loads of extracurriculars. I’m actually on this field trip with my academic decathlon team. There’s about ten of us.” He paused. “I hope they’re not worried about me.” His voice picked up speed. “Oh my God. They’re so gonna be worried about me. They have no idea where I am. What if they’ve called my aunt and she thinks I’m dead?”

Oh, panicking wasn’t good. “Peter, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Somehow, after that ridiculous display.

Peter pulled out his phone. “But my aunt doesn’t know that. She’s gonna be so mad.”

“She a worrier?”

“She’s… she’s beyond a worrier. I don’t have any signal, but if I did, my phone would just be, like, on fire.”

“Then let’s focus on getting you somewhere safe, and then you can give your aunt all the heart attacks you want when you tell her who your soulmate is.”

And I’ll give her one too when I tell her all about that stunt you pulled back there…

The penthouse levels required a passcode to access. When Peter realized they were nearly at the top, he perked up.

“How many private floors are there? Are you guys roommates? Do you all room together? Or do you have your own apartments? Or do you and Miss Potts get your own room and then everyone else is crammed into bunk beds in a guest room?”

Tony snorted. “How did you know we went with the bunk beds? Gotta save space, it’s only a penthouse.” He nodded to a door as they passed. “That’s Thor’s floor.”

Peter’s face lit up.

After two more flights of stairs—God, Tony missed elevators already—they arrived at the level of Tony’s workshop, which was one level below the main penthouse. Tony quickly entered the code and held the door open for Peter to step through. Peter’s mouth dropped open as they stepped into the lab, his eyes glowing blue with the reflected light of the various abandoned holoscreens that hovered around the lab.

“Mr. Stark, this is incredible! Is this where you make the suits?”

Tony gestured to a half-assembled suit strewn across a workbench. “This is the birthing suite. Or at least it was, until Pepper vetoed the name. We’re not here for the suits, though.”

He crossed the lab to the computers that hosted FRIDAY’s servers. It didn’t take him long to bring the AI back online, as whatever the attackers had done had simply turned her off, not done anything else to scramble her coding or prevent her from being brought back online.

“FRIDAY needs some time to wake up,” Tony said to Peter, who had been admiring the in-progress Iron Man suit the way one might admire the Mona Lisa. “Let’s see if we can get in contact with the team.”

The kid was obviously struggling to reel in his curiosity and excitement, and it was so endearing that Tony almost ignored the niggling thought in the back of his mind as they climbed the stairs up to the penthouse and stepped out into the grand living room.

It was as Tony’s eyes fell on the Chrysler building, fully visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows past the oversized Christmas tree, that it dawned on him.

Why wasn’t the penthouse locked down?

He’d entered the security code, but that was only basic security measures—

“Mr. Stark, move!”

A weight tackled Tony onto the floor behind a couch just as a gunshot exploded somewhere nearby. The weight landed heavily on top of Tony as, for the second time that day, bullets rained down upon them.

The weight was Peter, of course, his head resting on Tony’s chest just above the arc reactor. Tony grabbed him and rolled them over, pressing Peter closer to the safety of the couch as the gunfire tapered off, leaving Tony’s ears ringing.

He looked down at Peter. The kid’s eyes were blown wide in shock and his face had lost all color.

The expression was… wrong. All sorts of wrong.

Confused panic overcame Tony. His hand, the one he’d used to roll Peter over, was slick, and it slipped on something wet and warm and—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Shit!

Tony stared at the red smeared across his hand in shock, then back at Peter. There was blood all across Peter’s stomach, staining the fabric of his plaid shirt and pooling on the tiles beneath him.

Peter choked. Heavy footsteps pounded towards them as they both realized what had happened.

Peter had just taken a bullet for Tony.

#the friendly neighborhood exchange #friendly neighborhood exchange #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #irondad fanfic #iron man #spider-man #my fic

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folkloreguk · 4 years ago

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❥ My Sweet Evil Heart (C.Chanhee)

A/N: I wrote this as part of an angel/demon collab for The Boyz! You can find the masterlist HERE. This was really fun to write and I got to live out my alternate universe dream in which I'm a detective...I hope you like it, I'm always welcome to any form of feedback!

genre: demon!Chanhee, detective!reader, angst, fluff, reader is constantly sleep deprived, Chanhee is the sweetest demon ever

synopsis: You, a highly respected detective in your department, are investigating a case of a very strange demon who seems hesitant to do evil...but can you trust someone who is supposed to be the personification of wickedness?

words: ~ 10.6k

Have you ever met someone deeply unhappy? Someone who seems to, at all times, be fighting a war inside of themselves? Have you ever felt empathy for somebody, even though they tested you, over and over, as if the worst part inside of them was trying to make them lose you on purpose? Did you hold on and never stop believing in them? Or did you say something to drive them away, making them think they would only hurt you in the process of you trying to make them see clearer?

This is the story of a demon, whose every cell demurred at his evil nature. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and start with the basics.

Being one of the head detectives at the local police station was not an easy-going, nor an amusing job. Whilst working on serious cases, lacking proper sleep was not an uncommon occurrence for you, and in some instances, self-care came up short until the mystery had been solved and the guilty ones were locked away. Every case pulled you in and swallowed you whole, keeping you deeply invested for days and nights until your brain felt like it had turned to mush and your body worked on autopilot, until you functioned a little like a highly intelligent zombie. And yet, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else in your life. The thrill was close to an obsession, and seeing justice being served thanks to your work was more addicting than any drug could ever be to you.

Most crimes in your world were committed by demons, of course. They were your worst enemies, the monsters you saw in your nightmares and the reason you never strolled down a street without a gun by your hip. It wasn’t forbidden for them to walk the earth, so long as they kept to themselves. Their evil nature made it almost impossible for them to uphold these terms, though. You wished you could lock them all away in some putrid prison cell, or better yet, send them back to where they crawled out from originally. But the law couldn’t convict beings before they had done anything wrong. So, it was on you to make sure you kept an eye on the sinister beings, figure out what they were up to and stop them before they could actually hurt somebody. Like that morning, when you were called to a liquor store to investigate a break-in.

“My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, I am the lead investigator,” you greeted the store owner with a handshake upon arrival. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I came here this morning at around 7 to open up the store. When I got out of my car, I saw the broken glass of the window,” he explained.

“What was taken from inside the store?” you inquired further.

“That’s the weird thing. Nothing is missing from inside,” he said.

“We might just be dealing with vandalism,” you thought out loud. “Do you have security cameras?”

He did, and so you went along with him to the back of the store. It was true, the interior of the shop seemed completely untouched. You suspected whoever had done this had never even intentioned on entering. There was a college campus not too far from the store, and you recalled countless times you had witnessed careless vandalism done by some intoxicated students during a Friday night. It was a very human-like crime. Demons weren’t known to do things by halves. Their crimes were usually the go-big-or-go-home-type of crimes. But then, when you watched the security footage, you were stunned.

At precisely 3:29 am, a dark figure appeared in front of the window. They lifted their arms, swinging a baseball bat against the glass. And against your speculation, they did climb through the hole in the window. With no mask or disguise whatsoever, the demon man looked right into the camera in the corner of the room. The abyss of darkness in his pitch black eyes was unmistakable. He looked around, as if he was debating on whether he should have done more, but then, to your utter confusion, spun around on his heel and climbed right back out the window.

You assured the store owner you would be looking into this case. With nothing left to do, you headed back to the police station. You had taken the security footage with you, and the moment you arrived in your office, you played it on your computer screen. Over and over - only puzzling you more, with each rerun you saw. You worried this might only be a warning. Not seldom had you been a witness to demons playing with their prey, feeding off the fear of innocent souls. Was this one indulging in one of those little twisted games? Right away, you uploaded the demon’s face onto the database for criminals, even if vandalism didn’t compare to the serious allegations that stood against other faces on that list. While you turned your attention to other cases, his features wouldn’t leave your mind. Even when you left your office at night, he was still the most prominent person in your memory.

By the time you began your walk to your home, the sun had disappeared. You couldn’t help it, even if technically you could finish work earlier, your desire to solve your assigned cases was always higher. Had you just walked home at 5 pm, you were sure to end up on your computer at home, researching and digging around on the web to discover possible clues. This way, at least you had all resources you would need at your office at the police station.

Now, in the dark, the streets were rather abandoned, most shops had already closed, and the moon dimly cast light through the clouds. Those conditions were what made it a breeze for you to notice your shadow. The figure had been following you for 5 minutes now. Judging by how carelessly loud their steps sounded and by their not-so subtle choices of hiding spots, you could tell this wasn’t something they had practice in. Purposely, you didn’t turn around, so they wouldn’t realize you had caught on to them a while ago. Instead, only a minute or so from your home, you took a turn left into an abandoned alleyway. Your hand was on the gun in your belt.

Just as you had stepped into the alley, you turned. He was right behind you. With dark orbs glaring and teeth snarling he came at you, knife in hand. Your eyes widened – you recalled his face vividly – as you took in the situation in the blink of an eye. After all, you had watched the security tape of him breaking into the liquor store countless times only hours ago. But you had the upper hand from the very moment you had spun around. His build wasn’t particularly strong, but you knew you should never underestimate demons. You grabbed his shoulders and along with him, your body crashed against the red brick wall to your left. He struggled against your grip, but his determined and feisty expression was the by far the most intimidating part about him. His face was inches from yours but looking into the sort of darkness that were demon’s eyes did nothing to you. Your hand was around his wrist with the knife – which he was aggressively trying to bring down on you – but only at first.

Because suddenly, something uncommon occurred. So uncommon, in fact, that not a single cell in your body could believe it. He willingly dropped the blade. It hit the asphalt, the metallic sound echoing in your ears. He relaxed his arm in your iron grip. Demons never gave up. They fought until you had forcefully brought them to the ground or done worse to them. Their ironic god-complex and evilness didn’t allow them to step away from a fight – until this one had come along, apparently. And then, as if his behavior hadn’t already stunned you enough, he did the unthinkable.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Without a doubt you thought you had misheard him. Swiftly, you pulled your gun out of your belt and pointed it at his face. One thing you knew. You weren’t going to play along in his little games. In panic, he rose his hands, showing defeat.

“Quit playing games, devil’s son,” you hissed. “What is it you’re trying to achieve here? You’re sorry? For what?”

He was hesitant. With every second, your curiosity only grew. Either, he was a skilled actor or…you had no idea what else it could’ve been about him.

“I almost killed you. That’s what I’m sorry for,” he said. “Does that get me a prison sentence?”

Your eye twitched because this didn’t seem right at all.

“You broke into a shop and attacked me, but then stopped out of your free will,” you assessed the situation. “You’ll most likely get away with a fine and your name in our register.”

If you had been awaiting an evil grin or any sort of enjoyment in his face, you’d be waiting endlessly. If anything, he seemed to be…disappointed?

“But you’re a cop, right?” he said. “You can lock me up, can’t you?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? You won’t be locked up if you don’t commit a crime severe enough. As much as I hate it, considering you demons are running free, it’s the law,” you said.

“You don’t get it,” he said. And he was right, you really had no idea. “I should be locked up. You need to get me to jail before I hurt somebody.”

His face was dead serious, but you didn’t want to believe a single word. How could you, when your daily life consisted of hunting down his kind, because all they brought upon the earth was chaos and death?

“Give me one good reason why I should believe you,” you said, unimpressed.

“I will tell you anything you want to hear,” he said. “If you bring me to a police station. You guys have these lie detectors, don’t you? I will take a test if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

So, that was how half an hour later you still hadn’t returned at home, but rather found yourself back at the police station. Almost everyone had gone home by now, so you took the liberty to choose the biggest interrogation room available. A few minutes and he was sitting in front of you, hands in handcuffs and his body connected to the lie detector.

“Okay, here’s how this works. I’ll start by asking some simple questions, and then we’ll get to the bottom of whatever your intentions are,” you explained.

“Alright. Go ahead,” he said. This was your first time seeing a demon take this sort of test. Usually, you couldn’t be bothered because you knew all they did was lie whilst smiling you in the face.

“What’s your name?”

“Choi Chanhee.”

“Where were you born?”

“In hell.”

“Did you break into a liquor store last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you intend on killing me tonight?”

“…Yes.”

“Is that your definite answer?”

“…No.”

“How come both of your last two answers are lies?” you asked. “You didn’t intend on killing me, but yes is your definite answer?”

“I can’t stop the evil in me but I’m trying,” he said. You were stunned. The answer was the most truthful of them all.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I was never like the others since I came to earth. I’ve never felt a rush like they do, causing mischief and hurting humans. I don’t belong. It’s as if there was a demon inside of me, but it’s not controlling all of me, do you understand?” he said.

“I’m not sure, but go on,” you said.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody or destroy things. But on some days, I’m walking down the street and my body starts following the devil’s orders instead. I usually snap out of it quickly and stop myself. That’s why you’re still alive,” he explained.

“You’re telling me you’re some sort of good demon?” you asked. “Why don’t you go back to hell, if you’re struggling so much on earth?”

“I hate it there,” he said. “And either way, I’m banned from there forever.”

Your head raised as you stared at him.

“Banned?” you asked.

“I stopped a bunch of demons from killing a woman once,” he said. “Safe to say they weren’t happy to hear that, back at home. I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.”

“Can you tell me the name of the woman?” you asked. And he did. All this time, he really had been telling the truth. When you searched up the woman’s name in the computer, it only confirmed your suspicion. She really had been under attack when an unidentified person had interrupted and saved her life.

“I can tell you names of demons,” he said. “If you do me the favor of locking me up, I can sell out everyone I know about.”

You massaged the sides of your head and sighed. This guy really was one of a kind.

“I already told you, I can’t put you in jail for something you didn’t do,” you said. “That’s against the law, and then it’ll be me who ends up behind bars instead of you. I’ll have to let you go.”

“What if I mess up?” he said. The amounts of firsts you were experiencing in the timespan of an hour were giving you a headache. Never had you felt compassion for a demon before. But you were only human, and when you noticed the genuine concern and insecurity in his soft voice, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“How long have you been on earth for?” you asked.

“I don’t know, a few years, I guess?” he said.

“And in those few years, which of your deeds would you rate the most criminal out of all?” you asked. Any other demon would have been able to give you multiple answers, one more vicious than the other. He, on the other hand, took his time and even when he answered, he didn’t sound at all sure.

“I’ve broken into a house before, destroyed a car window and one time I stole a dog,” he confessed with his head tilted towards the floor.

“What happened to the dog?”

“I…gave it back,” he said. A laughter erupted from your throat against your will. In a friendly manner, you pat his shoulder before retrieving the keys to his handcuffs.

“Trust me, you’ll be just fine out there,” you said. “Whatever it is you’re doing to stop yourself from being evil, it’s working. I will let you go now."

Even though he wasn’t happy with your answer, he knew he had no choice but to comply. As you walked him through the hallways towards the exit of the station, you could only think of one thing: your beloved bed. Not only your body but especially your brain was drained from energy. You desperately needed a refill by getting a good night’s sleep.

“You’re the first person who’s been really kind to me,” he said, as you held the door open for him. The night air was cool, and you quickly zipped up your jacket to your chin.

“You gave me no reason not to be,” you replied.

“I almost stabbed you,” he said, bluntly.

“Almost.”

“For most people, me being a demon is reason enough to loathe me.”

“Well I guess I’m not most people,” you said. His smile was gentle, but his black eyes would always give him away. “I’ll be here at the station every day, if you have any concerns or need somebody to consult. But right now, all I want is my bed.”

“I understand,” he replied. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Good night,” you said, before you parted ways. Once more, you journeyed home. He remained on your mind until the moment you slipped off to dreamland that night.

The days passed without a trace of him. You followed your routine, but one thing you couldn’t help. You simply had to tell every person who worked with you about the changed demon you had met. No one really wanted to believe you. It was kind of understandable. Some thought you were testing their skills, seeing if they could figure out you were lying. Others went as far as to suspect your lack of sleep had given you hallucinations. But you didn’t let it go. And after all, you were a highly respected member of the police force. Some said they wanted to meet this demon gentleman, as they had renamed him.

But then you were called to a brand new homicide investigation and all of the jokes at the station were blown away by the intensity and buzz the case brought with it. You had a murder to solve. There was no place for sweet demon men in any part of your brain. Not for now. And as always, you slipped into old habits – staying up all night, living on coffee and quick meals – the toxic behavior was almost inescapable. Your fellow detectives tried their best to keep you healthy and most importantly, sane. They took you with them to get salad for lunch, invited you over for game nights (a futile attempt at giving you a break) and told you to go to sleep on time. After all, they needed your brain to function at full capacity for the case. You knew people were relying on your knowledge, and you weren’t doubting your capabilities. But a highly intelligent zombie was still a zombie. And so it happened that one Thursday night your boss sent you home. Not because you weren’t doing a good job – rather for of the opposite reason.

“You are allowed back at the station when you’ve caught a full night’s sleep. Do what it takes to take care of yourself,” your boss had said. Her tone displayed as much strictness as her eyes showed concern. Truth be told, you were too exhausted to even argue against her order. That’s when you knew. You really needed a rest. You dragged your body home.

“Hello sweetheart,” you greeted your pet bird, who chirped excitedly when you set foot into your apartment. “Guess what. I’m home early.”

As much as you wanted to drop into a slumber right away, your stomach growled. And you weren’t in the mood to wake up half-starved. As you prepared some left-overs from the fridge, you heard your bird call from the living room. “Peek-a-boo!” he sang. It caught your attention. He only played this game with you – when you were outside in your small garden and he was watching you through the window. So who exactly was he talking to, now?

You picked up a knife, because as a detective it was practically your job to be paranoid, and tiptoed into the living room. It would be harder for an intruder to spot you in the dark, so you pushed the light switch. Slowly, you advanced to the window and gently pulled the curtains aside. A shiver ran down your spine when you saw the figure standing between the trees. They didn’t seem to be hiding, if anything they were lazily resting their back against the garden fence. Maybe they weren’t aware you were watching them. Bold of them to assume they could intimidate you by acting so nonchalant. You cracked the window open slightly.

“If you don’t leave my property within the next ten seconds, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” you announced. The figure flinched. The moment he stepped into the moonlight and raised his arms, you remembered his face.

“Choi Chanhee?” You opened the terrasse door and stepped outside.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he asked, eyes glued to the knife in your hands. Quickly, you lowered your hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked instead of answering his question.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted.

“And so you thought creeping around in a police woman’s backyard was an appropriate thing to do? Wait…have you been stalking me?” you asked. You should have cut back on the sharp tone, but you felt half-asleep and this was the last thing you needed. Plus, the immanent realization hit you, that you had not noticed him at all. You had been so caught up in your work that you had not recognized a demon lingering around your home address, watching you. It hurt your pride a little – and could have ended very differently, had it been a more malovent demon than the one standing in front of you. This one looked terrified, kneading his hands nervously.

“I thought you wouldn’t be upset with me…that maybe you would understand. Because you’ve been the only one who’s listened to me. I’m just trying to find a purpose,” he said, “And my head tells me you’re the right direction.”

Demons. They’ve always had a fondness for the dramatic. But his words tore at your heart strings. His behavior resembled a child who had done wrong and was in the process of being scolded.

“Do you have no home?” you asked, softening your voice.

“I’ve lived with other demons. But they don’t want me there, anymore,” he said. For obvious reasons, you thought. Your head was racing. There was no way you could leave him standing there in the cold. But letting a demon into your home sounded like you must have had a death wish. It’s not like you didn’t have enough space, though. With an extra guest bedroom that nobody had ever used before, he would be just fine. There was no excuse. You cursed your parents for making you get a bigger apartment “In case you got married and had children soon.” You never know what could happen, they had said. And how wrong they had been, but how right they had been on that last part.

“Would you say you’re a tidy person?” you asked. A gigantic yawn came over you, and once again your stomach grumbled.

“What? I mean…I think so?” he said.

“Are you hungry?” You were in disbelief. Maybe it was the zombie in you that had a heart so soft, it took pity on a demon.

“I’m starving,” he said.

And that was how you came to have dinner with a demon. Spoiler alert: It wouldn’t be the last time. You ate quietly, trying hard to fight tiredness but it was no use. Afterwards, you showed him the room he could stay in.

“How do I make this up to you?” he asked.

“We’ll think about that another time, alright?” you said, “I need to sleep now. I’ve got an unsolved murder case waiting on me tomorrow.”

That night, you locked your bedroom door and slept with your gun on your nightstand. Just in case. Even though you were almost fully convinced the demon in the bedroom across the hall was more harmless than a five-year-old, he was still a demon.

When you woke up and saw your boss’ message on your phone, you couldn’t believe it. She wanted you to stay at home for the day. Apparently, you needed the rest and she had no interest in getting into trouble for overworking you (which she obviously wasn’t, you were the one doing this to yourself). When you walked down the stairs, you had almost forgotten about the previous night. It felt a little like it had all just been one wild fever dream – that was, until you spotted the demon sitting on your sofa, your pet bird on his shoulder.

“I let him out, I hope that was okay,” he said. You were dumbfounded. “Listen, I just wanted to say…thank you. Tell me whatever you need me to do and I’ll get it done for you.”

You wanted to go to work. But you knew he would be no help making that possible. Your mind was already wandering off to your case, the tips of your fingers burning with anticipation to search the internet for clues. Your grumbling belly interrupted your eagerness.

“Um…you could go to the grocery store for me?” you asked.

You went back to work the next day. Unsure of what to do, you decided to keep your demon housemate a secret for now. The other detectives would have probably written you off as insane, and you needed them to take you seriously. To be fair, maybe you were a little crazy. But he had been really good on the first day. Only one incident, which involved him dropping an egg on the kitchen floor, stood out to you. Of course, that could happen to anyone. But any other person would not have apologized in the way that he did. Normal people wouldn’t have acted so guilty, had it been an accident. But as long as his malice remained to that extent, you could live with it. You almost laughed at the idea of him purposely watching the egg roll off the counter and not doing anything.

He sure was strange. But little did you know, his egg-dropping shananigans were only the beginning of his uncontrollable little pranks he would pull on you.

Once he let your bird fly out the window. When you came home you discovered him outside, talking to your bird, begging him to come back inside. Little did he know, all it took was a whistle and a few treats and you had him sitting on your shoulder, ready to go back inside. One night you returned home to find him staring at the ceiling in the dining room, a kitchen towel in his hand. When you asked him what he was trying to achieve there, he told you there was a mosquito sitting above him.

“So, why don’t you kill it?” you asked. He looked shocked.

“Kill it?” he asked, “We should probably just shoo it outside.”

That’s when you knew. Choi Chanhee wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. All those times you had worried about leaving him home alone with your bird vanished in an instant as you laughed.

“You’re right. Killing is one of the worst sins. But sometimes, especially when it comes to mosquitoes, you don’t need to worry about any consequences. If anything, I’ll be grateful,” you assured him.

Another instance made you think maybe you had been too quick to judge him as harmless. When you walked into your bathroom in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you almost jumped out of your skin. A red substance stuck to your mirror in what seemed to be random shapes. On impulse, you called his name. On second look, you realized what he had done. The red was merely ketchup, and the random shapes weren’t so random, but they spelled “meeting at 2 pm”. When Chanhee appeared in the doorframe, he already wore his sorry expression.

“What did you think you were doing here?” you said. “You know where the post-it notes are!”

“I- He- The demon in me wanted to scare you…I’m so sorry,” he said. It was difficult to be mad at him when he was so sweet. You had, after all, told him to remind you of your meeting you had that day. He was so easy to forgive, too. Whenever he went to buy groceries, he returned with a bouquet of flowers, and after he had figured out your favorite candy, he made sure you never ran out of your supply. You liked being alone, but suddenly it felt nice to have someone waiting for you at home. A warm sensation filled your heart whenever he asked you about your day during dinner.

Even if after dinner you had to argue with him as if he was your son, because the demon in him had decided to take on the form of a teenage boy who was too lazy to take out the trash. You were still seated at the table, rolling your eyes at the demon’s horrible attempt at being evil.

“Don’t make me ask you one more time,” you threatened him, although you didn’t know what you would have done had he continued to argue against you. Only when he reached for the knife that he had already put down tidily on his plate, your eyes widened. His knuckles were white around the metal and you leaned back instinctively. Your gun was still in your belt – you had sat down for dinner straight after returning home – but you didn’t want to use it. Not on him.

“Chanhee,” you spoke in a calm tone. His face was unreadable. He wasn’t making eye contact. Instead, his gaze was glued onto the blade in his hand, staring blankly. His eyes blinked, almost robotically. Something changed in his demeanor then. There was a tremble in the hand that was clutching the knife. It grew more uneasy by each passing moment. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you kept your eyes trained on him, trusting your reflexes.

“Fine,” he suddenly said in a grumpy tone. Then he dropped the knife. The metallic sound rang in your ears for seconds afterward. You let out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding on to, as you watched him get up and retrieve the full trash bag from under the sink. You had been sleeping with your bedroom door unlocked for weeks. Even though it pained you, that night you locked your door again.

At 3:28 am you awoke to the sound of breaking glass. You allowed yourself to yawn and rub the sleep out of your eyes for just a moment, then you were on your feet. Gun in hand, you opened your door. Across the hall, the door to Chanhee’s room stood ajar. Light came from downstairs.

“Chanhee?” you called quietly. No answer. But your ears picked up shuffling and the sound of shards of glass being moved around. You approached slowly, trying not to give yourself away. Then you heard the quiet sobs. Your arm with the gun dropped to your side when you stepped into the kitchen.

He was sitting on the floor like he was one of the shattered pieces of glass himself. When he saw you, he flinched and tried to dry away his tears. But it was no use. They kept coming, and you had already seen them either way.

“I dropped it on purpose,” he said, referring to the broken glass. Another sob went through his body, making your chest ache at the sight of him. “I’m sorry.”

“I have nine more of those. It’s alright,” you assured him. Gently, you sat down by his side. You put your arms around his hunched frame. He stiffened at first but calmed his muscles after a moment and let you hold him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you said. Whatever it was that was hurting him so much, you’d be here to fight it off for him.

“I can’t stop the evil in me,” he cried. His weeps seeped through your skin and tugged at your organs. It felt like a thousand tiny, sharp needles in your heart.

“It’s a part of you. It’ll never fully go away. But look at you, you’re doing such a good job holding it inside of you,” you whispered. He shuddered.

“I tried to kill you,” he stated. “I don’t deserve you. You’re so kind. You do all this for me, and I tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “And that’s what counts. We all have urges inside of us…but it’s what we end up doing that truly counts and makes us who we are.”

“But it’s so hard,” he cried. His face was in the crook of your neck as he sniffled. The small teardrops that touched your skin felt like ice. “And all I do is bother you. I’m an inconvenience. Why don’t you just lock me up with the other demons? Why give me another chance every time I mess up?”

You couldn’t believe he would hate himself so much. Chanhee had more compassion than a lot of the humans you knew had. Some days he sat and pet your bird for hours just because it made him happy, he always had money on him to give to the homeless people in front of the grocery store and he almost cried thinking he forgot to pay for an item at the store (which you had obviously paid for).

“How could you even compare yourself to other demons?” you said. “If you want, I will take you in to work with me sometime. Then you’ll see the atrocities others commit. Even among humans, you’d still be sorted into the best of the best. I believe in you and that you will do good.”

He only sobbed harder at what you had said, and you felt the need to pull him in just a little tighter. You softly rocked your bodies in an attempt to calm him down.

“I would fall apart without you.” Between the hiccups and tears his words sounded like a broken confession, but that’s why they hit so hard.

“You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” you whispered, lips right by his ear. Your hands were in his hair, stroking his head as if you could pour all your emotions into this one gesture. What else could you do to show him you would never abandon him the way his demon people had? And it seemed to do the trick. His fists that had been clutching your shirt loosened up and his sorrowful crying turned into mellow breathing on your skin.

“Aren’t you sleepy?” you asked. “Let’s get you back to sleep. Tomorrow things will be better.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep well for three days,” he said. “But I need to clean this up first.”

He let go of you and started to pick up shards of glass. There was still a haggard expression on him, and his cheeks were painted red and tear stained. And yet he was determined.

“Let me do this,” you said, touching his arm. “You can’t even keep your eyes open. Go to bed, Chanhee.”

This time, he didn’t argue. But his good behavior didn’t stop the apologetic, almost battered look at you. He knew you would be by his side no matter what – but what he needed most was his own forgiveness. And you could tell by the way he spoke about himself that it would take a while until he was ready to accept himself as he was.

You heard his heavy steps on the stairs as he walked to his room. Quickly, you gathered the biggest shards of glass and then used a hand brush to collect the tiny pieces. This wasn’t what you had signed up for when you had taken him in. You thought you’d have to argue with him daily and that you’d miss having your personal space and privacy. You knew it would be new, living with another person after living alone for so long. But nothing could have prepared you for the way Chanhee had swept you off your feet with his adorable charms. You didn’t need to fake excitement when you came home to him, nor did you ever have to force yourself to tell him about your day or have any conversation with him, for that matter. He was truly enchanting with the way he made you care so much. Especially when you had assumed all demons were your sworn enemies.

When you finally dragged your tired body upstairs, you softly pushed open the door to his room, only to see him lying wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. “Even though you’re so exhausted?”

“No,” he spoke. Even his voice made no attempt at hiding the sleepiness. His look was pleading. “Can you please stay with me…just for a little while?”

There was no way you could say no to his lovely gaze and messy hair and outstretched arms. So, you crawled in next to him under the covers. Your faces were inches apart. The last time you had been looking into a demon’s eyes this close-up he had been lying face-up and dead on the side of a road. Those eyes had been lifeless, and yet you felt like they had still held so much ferociousness, even in death. Now you only saw concern and genuine care in the black orbs across from you. You admired his softly sculpted face. It was one that seemed like it would much rather belong to an angel.

“You’ve been working so much,” he whispered. “You must be much more tired than me.”

“I’m used to it,” you said, “I enjoy my work because I’m doing it to help others.”

“You’re a good person,” he stated. There was something in his voice you couldn’t make out. Regret? Admiration?Maybe it was both.

“So are you, Chanhee,” you said. Without second thought, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek. He didn’t flinch nor pull away. Instead, his pretty lips curled into a smile as he closed his eyes, ready to finally drift off to dreamland.

From that night on he seemed to improve a little, day by day. No more breaking things or having to argue about simple house chores. It occurred to you almost as if he had turned into something more human – so much that you dared to take him to work with you. People there had found the idea of your new demon friend strange, and you were sure some would take more than a little convincing to let down their guard around him. You couldn’t blame them for the prejudices – you had once been the same, after all. But Chanhee was okay with it, even when you had explained to him that some people might hate him, just because of his black eyes and what they meant to people. He had lived years of receiving that sort of treatment. Nonetheless, it pained you to think about how used he was to it. It took bravery and thick skin to walk into a police station the way he did that day. He was fascinated, looking behind the scenes. Perhaps you found it amusing how alarmed everyone was when they first laid eyes on him at the station. His ability to turn around their views of his species within twenty seconds or less was nothing but astonishing. He very willingly took it upon himself to walk down to the nearest coffee shop and order ten cups, also earning him the sympathy from the last few sceptics. When you were deep in conversation with another detective, discussing the possible whereabouts of a highly wanted demon, Chanhee suddenly interrupted you.

“I know an underground club where they like to go after…committing crimes,” he said. “Every demon in this city knows about it.”

At that moment you realized his full potential and what good he could really do. That was, if he was ready to sacrifice his people. But he just had – without even blinking. He could be an immense help to you.

“Young man I can see you have a bright future, should you ever decide to join the police force,” said your boss from across the room. Seemed like she had the same idea as you. Chanhee only smiled shyly but couldn’t hide the glint of pride in his eyes.

The following days you instantly made arrangements to get Chanhee an interview with the head of the station. He had been scared, at first.

“What if the other people there hate me?” he suspected.

“They might make assumptions about you in their heads, you know, because you’re a demon. They only know demons to be evil. But the moment they realize how good of a person you are, I promise they’ll change their mind,” you said. “You’ll be precious to us, and if you want to do good, the police is where you can be the most helpful. You’ll change lives, maybe even save people.”

“Yes, I want to help,” he said. “I’m done with my kind.”

“I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow,” you assured him. “If you’re too anxious to come in to the station, maybe she’ll allow you to work from home, from my office here. This is just a try, okay? If you really enjoy this work, you’ll have to learn and earn your badge.”

The way he looked at you filled you with so much pride. He seemed to have found some hope. Like he could finally spend his time in a productive and truly good manner. You couldn’t wait to see how he would do.

A tiring day and many discussions with higher-ups at workplace later, you returned at your home, late at always. Your fingers tingled with excitement and you wanted to yell for Chanhee the moment you walked through your door. You had managed to score an internship for him at your station. He was allowed to start as early as the following week. As you walked up the stairs, following the shuffling noise you heard, you imagined his face when you told him the news. You knew he’d be ecstatic. His smile would make you so happy, and you almost grinned at the mere thought of it. The noises were coming out of your office.

“Hi, Chanhee. Guess what my boss-,” you started. Then you fell speechless. Paper was scattered all over the floor. Drawers stood wide open. The orderly sorted piles of case files you had been working on were dispersed into every corner of the small room. Photos and pieces of paper were falling out of the folders. And in midst of it all stood Chanhee.

“Y/N- I’m so-,” he said, helpless.

“Don’t,” you said. Every ounce of excitement was gone from your voice, replaced by an ice cold tone you didn’t know you had in you. He flinched, but you couldn’t keep in what you had to say. “You’re impossible. I can’t fucking believe this! These are real cases, Chanhee! I’m trying to save real people here! This isn’t some broken mirror or a spilled cup of water. I can look past a shattered glass, but this is too much…I honestly thought you were getting better…”

Somewhere you knew you were being too harsh. But your job was your entire reason for existing. This was your life mission, laid out in front of you as if a hurricane had rampaged through the room. It would take days for you to rearrange the files. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find the correct places for each piece of paper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking because he was about to cry.

“I don’t want to see you right now. Please get out. I need to clean this up and you can’t help me with this,” you said, trying hard not to scream out of frustration. Your eyes were already scanning the floor. You had no idea where to even start. With low-hanging shoulders and teary eyes that were threatening to spill over, Chanhee slipped past you. He granted you one more look before he scurried out of the office like a frightened animal.

Even though your stomach was grumbling from starvation and you could barely stay awake – as always – you needed to get some of the cleaning done. Now. Or you would go insane. Plus, you needed time away from Chanhee. While you collected the paper from every inch of the wooden floor, guilt slowly started to nag at you. You had never raised your voice at him to this extent. And he was sensitive. It wasn’t his fault, that’s what you always told him when he blamed himself for messing things up. He knew that. You cursed at yourself. How could you be so impulsive? All too well you knew how he felt about his demon half. You were supposed to be there for him, to tell him he was doing a good job and to make sure he didn’t beat himself up. Now you had achieved the complete opposite. A dull ache in your chest accompanied your hungry stomach.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. In a haze, you stepped down the stairs and to the door. You needed to apologize to Chanhee. When you opened the door, a delivery girl from your favorite restaurant stood there, handing you an order. You were puzzled.

“Already payed for,” she checked with a beaming smile, “Enjoy your meal!”

“Thank you,” you said, voice numb. Before you knew it, she had turned on her heel and was on the way back to the car.

“Chanhee! Your food is here,” you shouted, assuming he was the one who had made the order. You got no answer. When you set the bag down on the kitchen table, you saw a note, addressed to you.

Y/N,

Words can’t express how sorry I am about what I’ve done. All my life I only wanted someone to love me. In you, I thought I might have found what I had been searching for all this time. But I messed up. I always do. I drove you away from what we had. I’ve wondered why I always end up disappointing people. Now I know it’s because it’s the only thing I’m truly good at. You deserve someone you can trust blindly, someone who will walk through fire for you, someone who will take a bullet for you. I can’t give you that. I can’t even trust myself. Thank you for giving me a home and for being the most generous person I have ever met. You will always be in my sweet evil heart. Don’t worry about me too much. I will find my way and you will find yours. Who knows, our paths may cross again. I ordered your favorite food. I know you’re always starving when you get home from work. Enjoy it and don’t let it go cold. Make sure you get enough sleep tonight, and don’t forget to take your water bottle with you tomorrow, you left it here this morning.

I’ll hold you in my happiest thoughts forever,

Chanhee

You only snapped out of your motionless state when one single tear dropped down your cheek and onto the note. A heavy blanket of sorrow and regret sunk into your whole body. The emotions seeped through your skin and before you knew it, you were a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor. You wanted to take him in your arms and tell him you forgave him. Hell, you had forgiven him minutes after you had yelled at him. You should have gone to him then. Had you only apologized quickly enough, perhaps he’d still be here. Then he’d be eating dinner with you, and although you’d be frustrated, you both wouldn’t be alone.

Your tears fell into your food while you ate it, unable to control your sadness and frustration you had against yourself. They mixed with the shower water as you stood in silence under the hot stream, overthinking everything. Your pillow was wet from the crying as you struggled to fall asleep. Like a broken-hearted zombie you trudged across the hall and into his room. Chanhee’s covers still smelled like him and you hugged them tightly, as if you could hold a piece of him and bring him back that way. But there was nothing you could have done. He had left, and it was alone your fault.

The next day passed like a vivid fever dream. While you were sat in your meeting, you couldn’t possibly focus on the case your team was discussing. Instead, you pondered whether your makeup was able to conceal your puffy face and the dark circles under your eyes. If it was obvious, at least people didn’t seem to point it out. Maybe they were so used to seeing you tired that it would take a lot more than some tiredness and lack of concentration to arise concern. It was the first time in years you really wanted to go home after work. In fact, you couldn’t stand the laughter and good mood at the police station for one more second. All you wanted to do was scream and cry, and seeing people joke around without any idea about your feelings only intensified your desire. Of course, you could have confided in somebody. But you were afraid they would tell you Serves you right or I told you. You don’t think you’d be able to handle those blatant assumptions and the mocking.

Your plan for the night was set: You’d sit in the bathtub for half an hour, then you’d wrap yourself into a human burrito in a blanket and fill your brain with some brutal movie that would make your life seem like it was mere child’s play. But as most things in your life lately, nothing went as planned. Because after only five minutes in the hot tub, your phone rang on the other side of the room. The first time you ignored it. You really tried. But then it rang again, and you looked up to see the caller ID. It was your boss.

You groaned and quickly stood up, not giving up on the prospects of a peaceful night just yet. But then you heard her message – a break-in at a bank, one dead bank employee, five hostages, a possible shoot out. They were calling for back up. And when there was a chance to throw bad guys behind bars, the most inviting bath or an exciting movie suddenly turned dull.

Not fifteen minutes later you had jumped out the bath, gotten dressed in your uniform, taken your gun and ammunition, and were pulling up at the scene your boss had ordered you to. The bank was in the city center, close to the main square. The police team was stationed in a side street. Some of the team had already been sent to the front of the bank, where the police was attempting to make contact with the robbers.

“They’re holding four hostages in the back of the bank. One of them is at the front, right by the glass doors for us to see. The robbers have guns to their heads. If we come closer, they’ll shoot them,” your colleague informed you.

“Demons?” you asked. Against your will, Chanhee appeared in your mind. You wondered how he was doing. Was he hiding out in somebody else’s garden right now? Had he found a bed to sleep in? Then you quickly shook your head. This was not the time for heavy emotions of any kind.

“Yes. Five of them,” your colleague added. You huffed.

“What do they want us to do? Are they demanding anything?” you asked.

“They want us to let them leave with the money,” she said. You grinned bitterly and nodded.

“What about the back entrance?” you asked. You knew the layout of this bank and had been there multiple times in the past.

“That’s our route. Besides the one at the front, the other demons are inside the bank. The entrance isn’t guarded. A team of four will go to the back and try to sneak up on them. When we have a clear line of fire on all the robbers, we’ll take them out at the same time,” she explained.

“Alright,” you nodded, fixing your bulletproof vest around your upper body. You were ready for this. To others, missions like these would have been nerve-wrecking, and you would have been lying if you said you were completely calm. But the adrenaline was already rushing through your body, and fear was something you hadn’t felt since your very first operation.

“All ready?” your colleague asked the other two members of the team who would go into the bank. You received nods and professional expressions. You had all trained together and were used to functioning like one unit. Sticking close together, you rounded the bank, using a side street so the demons wouldn’t see you approaching. In your ear, the voice of your boss was giving orders and checking in on you. The street was dark and devoid of any life except for your team. Multiple of the surrounding streets had been evacuated and shut off to the public. The scene had something straight out of a heist movie. Except this time, the robbers weren’t going to pull of the perfect theft and get away. You would make sure of it.

“We’re almost there,” you said. “Twenty meters to the entrance. Awaiting permission to go inside.”

“You have permission,” your boss spoke over your earpiece. One last look at your teammates, and you were on the move. Sneaking inside soundlessly was easy. The backrooms were all empty. As you passed abandoned offices, you saw knocked over office equipment and paper scattered on the floors. Lamps had been left on and you heard the faint buzzing of a running computer that was most certainly unoccupied. Moving swiftly, you walked along the corridors, guns pointed ahead at all times. Your teamwork was untouchable. One of you made sure the path was clear, then the rest followed.

“You are one room away from the entry hall,” your boss said.

“Understood,” you answered and slowed down your steps. A cat wouldn’t have been able to walk more silently than you did. Now your ears picked up voices. Somebody was crying. There was shuffling of feet on marble.

“Shut up!” a male voice yelled. The crying faded out into muteness. In the dark, you could make out figures. A few countertops and a good distance separated you and your team from the demons and the hostages. You nodded to your colleagues and they understood. The four of you parted ways, moving into the room and taking shelter behind the bank counters. Once again, you checked the situation. Close to you, four hostages sat on the floor. A woman was still crying, and you could tell she was struggling to keep herself quiet. Around them, four demons stood, dressed in black. Their ski masks kept their faces hidden, but their body languages told you enough. They were not to be messed with. By the far entrance, the fifth demon was positioned with the remaining hostage, and you could spot the police cars outside in the town square. From behind your hiding spots, each of your teammates had a clear line of fire on the demons. The fifth one would be taken out from police outside the bank. You were just about to send a signal to your boss to let her know you were in position. Suddenly, the scraping of feet on the floor alarmed you.

“What was that?” one of the demons barked. The noise had come from your colleague beside you, who was now flinching. You had no time to think. No time to complain about her mistake. If you didn’t act now, they were going to close in on you.

You jumped up, pointing your gun at the closest demon. Right away, the remaining demons had their guns aimed at the hostages’ heads. Your colleagues had done as you, guns held towards the demons. Now you got a proper look at them. They were towering over the hostages, who were crouched on the floor in intimidation. The one in front of you only chuckled. Humans didn’t laugh like this. It was pure malice and recklessness displayed in front of you.

“I thought we told you to stay away,” he began. The only thing you could truly note about him was his mouth. The rest was covered by his mask and where the white of eyes should have been, two orbs of darkness sat, eying you like prey.

“Let the hostages go and we won’t shoot you,” you ordered, with a surprisingly calm voice.

“And why would we do that when we can just kill them?” he asked. His gaze momentarily focused on his fellow demons, as if he was a stand-up comedian and he had just delivered the funniest punch line.

“You will die if you harm even one of the hostages,” you stated.

“Oh, is that so? Humans never learn, do they?” he said. This monster was completely insane. And suicidal too, it seemed. “Go on, shoot.”

First, you thought he was urging your team to shoot. Then you realized, he was looking at the demon closest to you. The very demon you had your gun pointed at. He was asking the other demon to shoot at the hostages. You were preparing to pull the trigger.

But then your mind started racing. You stared at him intensely as your heartbeat quickened uncontrollably in your chest. The dark eyes. The soft lips. His skinny frame and gentle hands. You knew exactly who this demon was. You’d be able to pick him out of any crowd. What the hell was he doing here?

“Shoot!” the bigger demon shouted again, but Chanhee didn’t budge.

“I told you he was goddamn useless,” one of the others said. “Get rid of him.”

“You don’t deserve any of this money,” the bigger demon snarled, and his hand went to his belt. You knew there were human lives on the line. What you were about to do could be considered not only stupid, but wildly imprudent. Emotions were supposed to be left out of police operations. But how could you not have been blind with shock? You were going to let your heart control your body over your mind, and if it was deadly so be it. The bigger demon was now raising his arm at Chanhee.

Before you knew it, you had jumped out from behind the counter. You mirrored the demon’s actions and you pointed at him, pulling the trigger. At the same time, his gun went off. Just in time, you had pushed your body between the two demons.

“Y/N!” Chanhee shouted.

The bullet hit your shoulder and you fell backwards. Burning heat spread through your insides as you stumbled and reached for anything, anyone to hold on to. You could only think of Chanhee, and how your bullet had pierced through the big demon’s skull perfectly. Then, your colleagues opened the gunfire. The shots sounded almost muffled through the intense amount of adrenaline in your blood and the initial effect of being hit. Your body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and a wave of agony spread through you. You grimaced at the excruciating pain, hands grasping at your shoulder. All you could see was white, before you sank onto your back and the world went dark.

~approximately 18 months later~

“Y/N,” Chanhee said, for the sixth time within the last ten minutes. You pressed your phone harder against your ear, holding it up with your shoulder. Your hands were too busy writing a police report on your laptop.

“Chanhee, I promise I’m writing the last few sentences already,” you assured him. He liked it when you came home early, leaving enough time to relax on the couch with him, instead of falling into bed like a corpse. Today, he was especially insistent, urging you to stay on the phone with him until you had finally packed up your things and left the police department. You guessed he was just trying to make sure you couldn’t stop somewhere along the way and start working on something new. And maybe that fear wasn’t so far off the truth.

“I’m done,” you said. “Status report: I’m switching off the laptop. Now I’m taking my bag. I’m getting up. I’m locking my office behind me. I’ll be home in twenty minutes or less.”

His laughter on the other side of the line made you smile. You couldn’t wait to see his face and get to hug him.

“Alright. I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll see you.”

The walk home was calm. A soft breeze went through your hair and in the distance, you heard sirens of an ambulance. Promptly you were catapulted back to your memories and into the vehicle after you had been shot. Going in and out of consciousness, you kept repeating one name: Chanhee. When you woke up in the hospital bed, you half-expected him to be sitting there, waiting for you to wake up. But of course that was not the case. He had committed a crime – or at least tried to commit one. The prosecution was in his favor. They acknowledged his compliance with the police and his hesitation to hurt the hostage. Plus, he sold out the other demons and showed no resistance at any point. His regret and sorrow was apparent, nonetheless his mistake caused him 11 months in prison – by far less than the other robbers got.

People had called you insane for standing by him. Others thought you brave and newspapers named him the first good demon in the world. Every week you visited him in prison, often more than once. You made the most of your short time to talk, and with your kindest words you let him know that you were still here for him. Every visit you learned a bit more about how he had ended up in that bank.

After he had walked out on you, he had nowhere to go. So, after strolling the street mazes for days he found himself in the very demon night club he had once warned you about. Most unsavory figures twisted his mind into thinking doing good was no use. They made him believe he would never be able to escape the demon in him, and he might as well embrace the malice. They more or less pulled him along to the robbery, while he overthought the whole thing. It hurt you, seeing him cry as he recounted how scared he was when he saw the hostages. Some of them ended up injured, but all survived. You knew he would have never forgiven himself, had one of them died.

The day you picked him up from prison was a day you’d never forget. Holding each other in your arms felt so right, and you had missed it tremendously. His months at the prison hadn’t been easy, but you made sure he felt loved and cared for when he finally returned. He almost refused to believe that you would open your doors to him again. It was no question to you. You’d always be here for him. Even when he insisted you keep your office at home locked at all times. You trusted him almost a hundred percent by now. His demon only came out rarely, especially in times of stress or intense negative emotions. But you only treated him with kindness, and he gave back just as much of it.

“Chanhee I’m home!” you shouted as you entered your home.

“I’m up here,” he spoke. You ran up the stairs, excited to see him. Your eyes fell onto the open door of your office. For a moment, your heartbeat quickened as you approached it. You must have forgotten to lock the door that morning. Slowly, you pushed it open.

“Hello,” he grinned. You only chuckled as you watched him, sitting by your desk, a book in his hands. “I hope you don’t mind me being in here. This chair is so comfortable.”

“It’s all good,” you said. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Umm…Friday?” he asked.

“It’s been exactly two years since you first started living here,” you said. “I think we should get some take out and celebrate, what do you say?”

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” he said. “I’d love that. And you know what? I think I’m ready to start the internship at the police station.”

You smiled proudly. He had put his book down and was getting up.

“You’re going to do good things,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. He finally had found his place. His home. And you were never going to give up on him.

#chanhee scenarios #new scenarios #tbz new scenarios #tattoos #the boyz icons #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #tbz angst #tbz fluff #chanhee fluff #chanhee angst #chanhee x reader #kpop fluff #kpop angst #demon au #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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sunlit-squid · 4 years ago

Note

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

#sbsp #my fics #spongebob squarepants #squidbob #spongeward #spongebob #squidward #ask #asks #sunlit-squid

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shewholovestoread · 4 years ago

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Fear Street Trilogy Review

Beware, spoilers ahead.

I love horror movies but good horror movies are so hard to come by. Fear Street grabbed my attention as soon as they released the first trailer, it looked like a call-back to the slasher films of old, back when they were still good. And the best part was the apparent presence of lesbians, count me in!

Fear Street is based on the books by the same name by R. L. Stine, a lot of us remember Stine for another horror classic, Goosebumps. The Fear Street novels were aimed at older audiences and were way more bloody than Goosebumps- lots of teenagers dying. The films don’t adapt any particular book but rather the tone and rough setting and I think that works to its advantage.

The Setting:

Fear Street is based on the fictional town of Shadyside, the poorer and more unfortunate twin of its sister-town Sunnyside. Sunnyside is sunny, wealthy and where nothing bad ever happens. Shadyside in contrast is poorer, the homes more run-down and where, every few years, some resident snaps and goes on a murderous rampage, killing their own friends, family or whoever they can get their hands on. There are those who believe that Shadyside is cursed by Sarah Fier, a witch who was hanged in the 1600s when she cut off her hand and used it to curse the town.

Fear Street Part 1:

1994 functions like the introduction and set-up for the trilogy. It introduces us to the characters, Deena (Kiana Madeira), Sam (Olivia Scott Welch), Josh (Benjamin Flores Jr.), Kate (Julia Rehwald) and Simon (Fred Hechinger). They unwittingly trigger the curse when they stumble across the bones of Sarah Fiers, soon killers are chasing them, killing-machines powered by the curse and who can’t be killed. Deena, Sam, Josh, Kate and Simon have to put aside their differences and work together to survive the night.

Fear Street Part 2: 1978

1978 opens with the survivors of 1994 going to C. Berman (Gillian Jacobs), the lone survivor of the Camp Nightwing massacre. It provides insight into the massacre that saw dozens of Shadyside kids being killed. 1978 takes us back to the day leading up to the bloody night. We meet the Berman sisters, Ziggy and Cindy (Sadie Sink and Emily Rudd respectively), Alice (Ryan Simpkins) and Tommy (McCabe Syle) When an axe-wielding murderer starts butchering the camp residents, Cindy and Alice, while trying to escape, stumble into the cave system that runs under the camp and discover Sarah’s hand and that the only way to break the curse is to reunite the hand with her body. However, they are unable to break the curse when they realise that the body is not buried where they thought it would be. Alice, Cindy and Ziggy are killed by the cursed murderers with only Ziggy being revived thus being labeled the lone survivor. In the present day, Deena and Josh dig out the hand from where Ziggy and Cindy left it, when Deena reunites the hand with the body, she sees visions of Sarah Fiers, leading us into the third and final film.

Fear Street Part 3: 1666

1666, the year it all started. We see the events play out leading up to the hanging. Deena is inside Sarah’s body, seeing and experiencing her life as if it were own. We learn that it was never Sarah’s curse, but in fact it was the Goodes who had made a deal with the devil, securing power for themselves (their descendants are the mayor and sheriff in 1994) Sarah Fiers was just the scapegoat. Every time someone saw a vision of Sarah, she was trying to show them the truth and un-dead killers hunted them to keep them from exposing it.

The films work individually but their impact really hits home once you’ve watched all 3. Leigh Janiak crafts such an intricate story and links 3 time periods, weaving them through each other seamlessly. With 3 films, she also has the time to invest in these different time periods and the characters that inhabit them.

The story, both in terms of individual films as well as the trilogy as a whole, is engaging and engrossing. It keeps the audience on their toes and the edge of their seats, waiting and dreading as the bodies pile up. Janiak also grounds the story so that it feels real even as the characters are fighting off un-dead killers, adding to the nail-biting tension.

There’s plenty to admire for a horror film buff, from the Scream reference in 1994, to Friday the 13th in 1978 and The Witch (or VVitch) in 1666. There’s also a good amount of gore to be found along with some really inventive ways of killing, who knew bread cutters/slicers could be so menacing.

There’s so much attention to detail in terms of costume and production design that you really feel like you’re in 1994, 1978 or even 1666. All of these work to draw you in as the viewer, adding to the authenticity on screen. The clothes and places feel lived-in. The song choices are amazing with popular hits from 1994 and 1978, the soundtrack definitely elevates the visuals. The original score in 1666 was absolutely gorgeous, especially Deena and Sam’s theme.

The sequence of the films with 1994 being the first, followed by 1978 and finally 1666 was a great choice with each film revealing a little more of the puzzle till all the pieces are revealed in 1666. It keeps the tension alive and keeps the characters and the audience constantly guessing. It also allows Janiak to sprinkle just enough subtle clues that become apparent when rewatching the films.

The characters are one of the best things in the trilogy, they are so well written, and I mean that for almost all of the main cast which is rare. One of the best things that Janiak does is repeat actors, especially the principle cast. For instance, a lot of actors we see in 1994 and 1978 appear in 1666 playing different roles but with a similar dynamic. It helps tell the story without worrying about too many new faces and worrying about whether or not the audience will be able to keep track of them. The return of old faces also ensures that the audience is already a little invested in them and their well-being.

Small side-note: I really appreciated that there was no sexual violence. It always worries me when I start a horror show/film and it was such a relief that they did not go that route. There is a lot of violence and a lot of people and kids die but it’s always just slightly campy enough that keeps it from being genuinely disturbing.

One of the things that always irk me with slasher films (especially the old ones) are how white they were, no characters of colour and if there were any, they always died. There were also no queer characters. Fear Street undoes that beautifully, all of our main characters are outsiders, they are people of colour, they are queer. In another film, they would have been nameless characters, among the first to die. Here they are the heroes. I loved all of them and I hated that Alice, Kate and Simon died, to be honest, I expected the core group to survive, Kate especially.

Fear Street is also unapologetically feminist and Janiak does this without it being too obvious. The central conflicts in the story are between women (sister/ friends/ ex-girlfriends) but they also band together and fight for each other. It’s worth noting that most of the core relationships are between women (Deena-Sam, Ziggy-Cindy-Alice, Sarah-Hannah) and those are not coincidences.

I loved how gay this trilogy was, Deena and Sam’s love for each other was the driving force and was at the heart of the story. Even in 1666, Sarah’s crime was not so much witchcraft as it was daring to love someone you’re not supposed to and fighting back against the proprietary nature of the men who sought to control them. Sarah and Hannah loved each other fiercely and we see that same love reflected hundreds of years later in Deena and Sam who fight for each other relentlessly. I also appreciated that Deena and Sam were exes instead of a new relationship. It meant that they already had history, they shared a familiarity and comfort with each other that a new relationship would have had to build onscreen.

The Fear Street Trilogy is one of the best horror trilogies I’ve seen in a while, each film is consistently great and delivers gore and violence coupled with immense heart. It has one of the best queer relationships I’ve seen on screen and spoiler alert, they get a happy ending. I’m sick and tired of lesbian women dying or separating because of realism. Damn realism, give me happy women loving women and who live through their traumatic ordeal. Watch Fear Street for them if for nothing else. Now excuse me as I prepare to rewatch the trilogy.

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

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a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 10.6k (yeah i have a spacing problem)

a/n: part 2 of this series is here! some dialogue, cases, and themes taken directly from criminal minds (S03 EP20, S04 EP01, & S05 EP08). originally, i had it planned to be 3 parts, but after editing, and looking at the word count, it makes more sense to be 5 parts. i don’t want to inundate you lovely people with massive word counts (even though 10k is massive) so this is the finalized count. because i finally got my shit together and finished this out, part 3 will be up wednesday morning, part 4 will be up friday morning, and the final part 5 will be up sunday morning. thank you to everyone who showed some love for part one, and thank you to anyone else who stumbled across my crazy writing and read along!

at the end, I’ve tagged the peeps that interacted with part 1. if you don’t want to be tagged for the other parts, just let me know :)

ok enough of my rambling inner monologue, here we go friends!

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

We were in New York, investigating what started out as five connected shootings in the city. After twelve hours, we were up to nine fatalities.

We delivered the profile at nine thirty, finally satisfied with the outcome after a day's worth of combing over crime scene photos and witness statements. Hotch didn’t want to waste another second, making sure the profile went out before the night shift went out to patrol.

“Now, our first theory is that we’re dealing with a team.” Derek started. “In the case of the D.C. snipers, there was actually one intended victim.”

“John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex wife, but he knew if he did, he’d be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation.”

Spencer added before turning to SSA Joyner. “Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub.”

“We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They’re opening a line of communication.”

There was an outpouring of judgement focused on us, since we were in charge of the D.C. snipers case as well. These unsubs know we’re here, and they’re trying to show they can outthink us.

“Yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence.” You tried to hold your ground, and not let their opinions get to you.

“And like I said,” Prentiss interrupted, ready to put these cops in their place. “They know these cases. He’s also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection.”

“We’ve asked officers to canvass their precincts, and look out for a father-son type of duo that fit the dominant-submissive profile.” Rossi had Reid hand out some gang related profiles, just in case the profile shifted. But we were pretty confident in our first go.

“Talk to the people on your beats, look out for anything suspicious. And let's pray that this isn’t random.” The detective in charge finished and let his precinct disperse.

“Hey y/n/n, we’re gonna head back in five if you want a spot in the fun suburban.” JJ teased and lightly shoved Spencer’s shoulder.

You smiled and started packing up your backpack. “Okay. Just, leave the fragile doctor alone.”

After packing up any files you wanted to review when you got back to the hotel room, you let Morgan and Rossi know the four of you were headed out. They weren’t much further behind with Prentiss and Garcia.

You met Reid and JJ in the lobby, droopy eyes and mouths full of yawns adorning the three of you. It was a long day, and it was only going to be worse tomorrow.

“Where’s Hotch?” You asked, ready to get your feet out of these narrow leather dress shoes. You were wearing your combat boots tomorrow.

“He’s checking in with the lady friend.” JJ nodded her head toward Hotch, who was conversing with Joyner in her office. They were standing close, and you thought you caught a smile on his face. “Do you think they’re into each other?”

“She looks like she could be Haley’s twin,” Spencer added and you sighed.

The moment the team arrived at HQ this morning, everybody noticed the resemblance to Hotch’s ex-wife. SSA Kate Joyner went pretty far back with our unit chief. They went through the academy together and had some assignments overlap over the years. If it were up to Morgan and Garcia, the two of them would be out on a date right now. But you and Rossi quickly quieted the rumors, not wanting to deal with the rage that was Aaron Hotchner if he knew we were discussing his love life.

It had barely been six months since Haley left with Jack, and Hotch had just taken off his wedding band a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell any of you until you all witnessed him getting served in the office. It slapped you across the face, especially since you’d just met Haley and Jack for a quick lunch a month and a half before. I guess she wanted Hotch to tell you when he was ready.

As much as you valued your three year friendship with Aaron Hotchner, you knew Haley deserved better. Hotch adored his wife and son, and would fight heaven and earth to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he was too busy fighting the demons from hell to be a present father and husband. Everyone had their breaking point, and Haley had hit hers. From what Hotch has told you, they’re still amicable, and are trying to be friends again. After all, it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their marriage. It was a lack of prioritizing his family.

“Knock it off. He’s on his way over.” The three of you turned to one another, pretending to hold an intriguing conversation about one of Spencer’s magic tricks. Truthfully, you were always intrigued in his magic tricks; you never understood how he could pull endless quarters out of your ear. But that conversation would have to wait for another day.

“Ready to go?” Hotch pulled the keys out of his pant pocket, and the three of you nodded as Spencer called shotgun. A smile crossed your lips, never getting over the jovial things Spencer loved to claim when his intellect wasn’t needed to solve a case.

The fifteen minute ride to the hotel downtown was silent. You were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, sick of having to watch people die over and over again.

The four of you made it into the lobby, tomorrow morning’s papers already spread across the table. “The late edition didn’t miss a beat.” You said and picked up one of the papers, the headline reading ‘Execution Style’ with a still from one of the murders. You showed it to Hotch and he shook his head.

“I’m glad I never stooped to this level when I was publishing.” You murmured, reading the first paragraph of the article.

“JJ,” Spencer started and pointed across the lobby, causing all of us to turn. It was Detective Will LaMontagne Jr., JJ’s adorably chivalrous Louisiana boyfriend.

“Will.” You could practically hear the smile on her face as she led the walk over to him.

He was supposed to fly into D.C. to visit JJ for the weekend, but came to surprise her in New York when he heard the news. Spencer and I shared a look as Hotch extended a hand to him.

“Detective.”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, I know you’re working. But, um. I can’t stand you being on this case. And me not being here, not with what’s going on.”

JJ shook her head in the slightest, and you started to get nervous.

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, concern completely taking over his voice at the thought of any harm happening to his team. The couple shared a knowing look, and your patience was starting to run thin with the information being withheld. JJ meant the world to you, and you wanted to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, she turned to face you all, a shy smile covering her face. “I’m pregnant.”

Spencer looked over at you, not knowing how to react to the news. But you couldn’t help the smile widening on your face.

“Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations!” You wrapped your arms around her and she laughed, most likely out of relief. This was a secret she kept for a long time.

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,”

“Will.” She cut him off as Hotch gave him a congratulatory handshake.

“We’re working out some kinks.” He added as Spencer was next to hug your blonde friend. A baby, in the BAU. You might have been more excited than JJ.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” Hotch started towards the elevator, and JJ was quick to follow.

“Hotch,” She didn’t continue, you knew this wasn’t the exact situation she wanted to tell everyone she was having a baby.

“JJ, you could have told me.”

The tenderness in his voice could have broken your heart in two right then and there, but add on the fact that you swore you could see Hotch’s eyes tear in the slightest, you were done. You didn’t want to mention it in front of Reid, but you knew this had to do with Haley. You’d be an idiot not to notice.

The three of you filed into the elevator, leaving JJ and Will to talk in private. You all got off on the fourth floor, Reid’s room the first to come up in the hallway.

“Night Spencer.”

“Goodnight. Seven a.m.,” He reminded you as he opened the door with his keycard.

You and Hotch walked down another ten feet before he found his room.

“Goodnight,” He mumbled out and reached for his key.

“Hotch,” He closed his eyes, nodding his head in the slightest.

“I’m tired, y/n.” You could’ve pushed harder. You could have gotten him to crack if you started nagging enough. You’d earned the title as baby sister from the team since you could whine and nag them into doing anything. But tonight didn’t seem like a good time for your skills.

You nodded, understanding this conversation wasn’t going to happen.

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t sleep a wink. Hotch had gone over his files and called for Kate to meet him in the lobby. But then there was an explosion, and you had to watch from your window as Hotch sat by Joyner, waiting for her to die.

Once the team had caught the second unsub and wrapped everything up at the precinct, you headed to the hospital to check on Hotch. And unsurprisingly, he was refusing any further treatment for the ringing in his ears he tried to deny. You saw him kick Rossi out of the room, the third member that couldn’t get through to him.

“Bobo, why don’t you give it a try. Can’t yell at the baby with a broken arm.” You were the one to tackle the unsub, and landed pretty hard on the pavement downtown. Nothing a black cast covered in smiley faces from Spencer and Garcia couldn’t fix.

“I know you can’t tell, but I’m flipping you off right now.” You responded to Morgan as you raised your casted hand toward him.

You headed to Hotch’s room, knocking on the window before you walked in.

“I swear to god if you try to put me in another MRI,” He started to raise his voice when you interrupted him.

“Shit, I should go tell Morgan he was wrong. Boss is willing to yell at the baby with a broken arm.”

He turned around to face you, the lines on his forehead disappearing once he saw it was you and not Rossi.

“What happened to your arm?” You smiled and glanced down at the cast. “Just another day on the job. Tackled the unsub, the pavement was not very kind to me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put his tie back around his neck. You scoffed, stepping over to him.

“Why the hell would you want to put that back on?”

“Because it’s part of my suit.”

You knew better than to pull it out of his hands. He was holding on to any semblance of control, and his outfit was all that he had left. Instead you took a seat in the stiff chair across from him, watching as he grimaced every time he lifted his arms too high.

“If your goal is to get me to stay another minute here under observation, you’re not gonna win.”

You shook your head. “That’s not my goal.”

He sighed, giving up on putting his tie on. He moved to finish his top button, he was at least going to be covered.

“You should be excited for JJ.” You started, testing the water on this subject.

“Did I suggest otherwise?” He asked and you shook your head.

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” His eyes widened the slightest, and you regretted asking the question. You gripped the arms of the chair, ready to be ripped a new one.

Instead, Hotch let out a sigh, and you snapped your head up. “Two weeks. Haley went to visit her mother for a week, and then we went from Florida to New York in three days.”

He was already away from Jack half the week when they were still living under the same roof. Now he was lucky if he got to say goodnight on a weekend.

“Why don’t you take some time off? I’m sure you have weeks saved up. I’ve been here three years and have never seen a tan on you.”

He shook his head. “Strauss would never approve of it.”

“Hotch,”

“Y/n, I really want to get out of this hospital room and call my son.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine. But you’re not flying home. You have a choice between Morgan and Rossi to drive you home. My recommendation would be Morgan, you don’t want to sit through four hours of Opera music.”

You stood up, refusing to meet his eye. You were sick of dealing with stubborn men.

“I’ll see if they can fax your records to D.C. before we leave.”

He muttered out a thank you as you left the room, shaking your head at the rest of the team.

“Nothing?” Morgan asked as you returned to them.

“Nothing. Even the baby gets yelled at.” Spencer spared you a glance and you gave him a small smile. You would be fine. “And Derek, you’re driving him back.”

***

January 2010

You didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Hotch with nine stab wounds at the hands of Foyet. You desperately wanted to believe that it couldn’t be worse than that. But you were naive to think that he would let Aaron survive and not make him suffer.

None of you would be able to erase the image of Haley’s bloody body lying in the home where she and Aaron created their family. You wouldn’t forget the sight of Hotch beating into Foyet’s face, or the sobs that raked through his body once Derek had shaken him off. This was a tragedy that shaped the entire team.

After Haley’s death, the seven of you took turns checking in on Hotch, Jack, and Haley’s sister Jessica. She stayed close by when Hotch was on leave, helping him with Jack’s routine, and how to explain to the four year old where his mommy went. She moved back into her apartment a few blocks away before Aaron returned to work. He wanted to prove to her that he could do this on his own, that he could be the strong father that Jack deserved, and that Haley would be proud of.

While the three of them were together, the team would try and make it over every Saturday for dinner. Hotch needed to be around friends, and Jessica needed a guilt free night to spend with the people that made her feel good. He was reluctant at first, not wanting us over the apartment, complaining that it was a mess, and it was too small to fit everyone. But it was impeccably neat, the result of a widow not being able to sleep. Once he became comfortable with us coming around on Saturday’s, we’d pick two weeknights to stop by with a dinner, movie, or game to help take their minds off of the pain. Although you and JJ stopped by every friday regardless of whose week it was, Hotch really appreciated the extra company, and so did Jack.

Despite his attempts at being independent, there were one too many distressed calls being made to you or JJ if he couldn’t get a hold of Jess, or if he didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility.

Your feelings about Jack Hotchner hadn’t changed in the four years since you met him. You would still do anything to see the adorable little boy smile. So, it was easy to say that you didn’t mind the late night phone calls worrying about Jack’s stuffy nose or when he should take the chicken out of the freezer without it going bad. Because the more he reached out to any one of you, the closer he was to finding a new normal.

However, all of you were surprised to see SSA Aaron Hotchner in his office only a month and a half after the event. Sure, he made remarkable progress, but you all assumed he would take a little more time, maybe take Jack on a well deserved vacation. Instead, you walked into the office on a monday morning, Hotch the first one in attendance.

That was two weeks ago.

The readjustment period had worn off, and Hotch was back to being a drill sergeant. Even more aggressive than he was before.

The case we were working was local, saving us the discomfort of sleeping in a hotel bed. We were in Virginia, investigating two murdered families, similar to ‘The Fox’.

“Who?” You asked, not familiar with the creepy nickname.

“Four years ago Karl Arnold, aka the fox, killed eight families.” Derek informed you. It must have been just before you started at the BAU.

“Similar to this case he took the father’s wedding rings, except in his case he took them as trophies.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch, you gave evidence at Arnold’s trial. I think you should go see him.” Derek was acting unit chief since before Haley’s death, and continued his position even with Hotch’s return. Strauss was weary now more than ever to give Aaron the title back so quick.

“I’d like to take l/n with me.” You looked over to Hotch, his eyes resting on yours, waiting for your approval.

You gave a small nod, placing your sunglasses over your eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hotch got the keys to a suburban and before you could meet him at the car, Prentiss pulled you back.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” She was always looking out for you, heck she was the one that made you pack extra barf bags for crime scenes. She knew meeting face to face with a family killer would do a number on you. But Hotch can’t face this guy on his own. Not after what happened.

“I’m good. Not the first time I've interrogated a psychopath.” She reluctantly nodded.

“Okay. Just, let Hotch take the lead.”

You gave her arm a squeeze. “I will. Let’s find this guy.”

The ride to Red Onion Supermax was a short and quiet one. Hotch filled you in on the particulars of Arnold’s case, making sure you knew it inside and out. This was a team effort after all.

You couldn’t get a clean read on Hotch, however, on the ride over. He’d yet to crack a true smile or laugh in the weeks he’d been back, which normally wouldn’t be so out of character for him. But Reid had been trying to get him to crack with every magic trick he knew, even agreeing to let Derek joke about his lack of childhood and understanding of pop culture. But nothing worked.

It worried you to see the regression he’s made since coming back. You knew how happy he was at home with Jack, that a smile crossed his face most of the day when he was playing legos with his son. You hoped he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he had an obligation to the team or the Bureau.

“Karl has a big ego. He’s going to answer every question with a question. He’ll try to gain the advantage with me by asking why I’m not wearing my wedding ring.” You looked down at his left hand, the gold band that you noticed on your first day, now gone, along with the woman he loved. “And then he will turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

“Your presence will throw him off guard. And he’s going to want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families.”

“To freak me out?” Because you haven’t even met this sick bastard and you were certainly already freaked out.

Hotch met your eye, and you knew this was only going to get worse. “To pull you into his fantasy.”

The guard radioed for the gate to open, and you tried to contain the tremors in your hands. This was a wing of psychotic sexual sadists, they would pick up on your nervous ticks.

You looked to Hotch once the gate opened, and he nodded for you to go in.

“Go ahead.” You followed the guard in, surprised at the lack of noise you were welcomed with. “Keep your eyes forward. More than anything he’s going to want to see images of the children.”

“We can’t give him that.” You argued, as you started to hear the men from their cells.

“We have to give him something or we’ll get nothing from him.”

You’d kept your breathing under control the entire walk down the hallway, until a man crashed against the glass, causing you to flinch and spare a glance.

“Isn’t that, uh,-”

“Derek Payne.” He finished for you, his eyes still straight ahead.

“It’s reinforced glass.” You scoffed. Of course he wasn’t worried about another man ripping him apart.

“Easy for you to say, he tore apart fourteen women.”

The door opened to the interrogation room, and this time Hotch entered first. You were met with Karl Arnold, red bushy hair and a beard to match. He was average height, and a little stocky, not what you pictured him to look like.

“Hello Karl,” Hotch greeted him as we settled in on the other side of the table.

“Agent Hotchner,” He stood. “I wasn’t informed you were bringing a, uh,” He glanced at you, looking you up and down before turning back to Hotch. You really regretted wearing a white silk top with your dress pants today. “They just said two agents.”

“This is Agent-”

“Y/n, l/n.” You tried to control the dilation of your eyes as he looked right through you. “I know all about you.”

Now you understood why Emily asked you if you were sure about this. He kept his eyes on Hotch as he started the interrogation, never looking you in the eyes longer than a second. Even if you directed a question toward him, he would only answer to Hotch. He was a misogynist. You don’t know why you’re so surprised at this discovery, he tortured wives and families.

When he offered up his book of dialogue between him and his fans, he smelled your perfume as you reached across the table to grab it. Hotch quickly took it for you, letting you sit back down in your seat. Your gut was no longer in your stomach, it was lodged in your throat.

“How’d you lose your ring, Agent Hotchner?” It was beyond your level of profiling to understand how Hotch could just sit there and take the assault on his personal life from a man who ruined families, especially with what he’d just been through. You’d never mastered the art of compartmentalization quite like Hotch. But right now, you were thankful for your uncontrollable emotions.

“I can look past your refusal to answer my question, if you let me see the children. It’s the only way I can truly help you.” You gripped the files harder at the mention of the victims and looked at Hotch.

“Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded and the two of you stood.

“Is there something wrong, y/n?” You bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to fall from your mouth.

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

You exited the interrogation room, still clutching the files close to your chest.

“We cannot show him these.”

He looked at Arnold, who seemed to find your eyes, even through the reflective mirror. “These images will be his undoing and will lead us to the killer.”

“These are not just images.”

“That’s exactly what they are.”

“Hotch, I am not about to parade a dead twelve year old girl in a bathing suit in front of a serial killer who gets off on it.” You raised your voice, not willing to compromise any respect you had left for these victims.

“Then show him the others. It’ll gain his trust and get him talking. He won’t talk to me, he knows I know everything that gets him off. But he’ll want to tell you just what he would do to them. I told you, he wants to pull you in.”

You shook your head. “These are children! Helpless children whose fathers have to live with what this animal did to their families! These strangers do not get to see the torture and humiliation that they went through.”

“If you can’t stomach showing him what he desires, then I’ll do it. Because we’re not leaving until we get a name out of him. You’re either with the team or you’re not.”

You scoffed. “You’re not the unit chief anymore. I do what Morgan says if we can’t come to an agreement.”

It was bold of you to remind him of his subordinate place. But you were equals now, despite the decade between you two. You didn’t have to listen to his orders if you felt they were wrong.

He reached for the files, but you turned away from him. “I’m going in there. Not you. But I’m going to run the interrogation my way, not exposing these children. If you have a problem with that, you can call Morgan.”

You motioned for the guard to let you back in. You took your seat across from Karl, a smirk still evident on his face.

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

“You know, yours was one of the first cases I studied,” You started, trying to loosen up the muscles in your face. Going against every natural instinct in your body was making it hard to relax. “I’ve been fascinated ever since. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was embarrassed with him in the room.”

“You’re embarrassed because you want to know what I did, don’t you.” You pushed out a smile, a little giggle behind it to entice him.

And of course it did. “Yes.”

“I can show you exactly what I did to them.”

“Tell me.” You tilted your head to the side, pushing some hair behind your ear. You were fighting the bile rising in your throat with every word you exchanged with him.

“Children are so precious, so clean. But they need guidance, especially the girls.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Girls have much more to lose than boys. It’s a fact, the female body can handle pain much better.” If this wasn’t a serial killer across from you, you’d agree with him and make some jokes about the female anatomy. But he was enjoying this, just like Hotch said. He was pulling you in.

“What did you do to them?”

He smiled. “I showed them, what men, their fathers, and brothers, are capable of.”

“And what is that?”

“Once I killed the children, It always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable, the dying.”

“I never thought I would get these answers, let alone from the man himself.” You pushed out another smile, because you knew he was holding back. He was almost willing to trust you, he just needed to be groomed a little more.

“It takes a good woman, to make an honest man. And you’re prettier than Agent Hotchner.”

He was dancing around the information now, knowing that he had your time and attention. “Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?”

“I already told you why.”

You dropped the sweet tone, and pushed up on your elbows. “No, you told me how. And your motivations were all driven by sex, motivations you learned from your father.”

You saw him flinch, and you knew you were getting somewhere.

“You assert your dominance by making the father, the head of the household, watch you torture, assault, and take anything you wanted from the people he’s supposed to protect. Now your admirer, they don’t have the same ambitions as you do. And normally, that would bother a man like you. You want to be adored for every single part of your mess. But like you said, they’re an admirer, not a fan. So I’m guessing it’s a woman, who you’ve really come to care for.”

He tugged on his shackled wrists, you clearly got what you were looking for.

“Those women, those girls, they needed to be taught a lesson. How to obey who’s in charge. And you,” he laughed as he inched as far across the table as he could. “The things I would do to you if I weren’t nailed to this table. You’d be done before I could call your name.”

Before you could respond, Hotch came into the room, demanding a name. You stood up, no longer needing to play a role.

“It must be distracting, working with such a beautiful woman everyday.” You didn’t spare him another glance as you heard him mumble out a name to Hotch, finally getting what he wanted: power over you.

“Morgan, we’ve got a name. It’s a female guard in intake. Get everybody here ASAP.” The guard led you and Hotch back down the hallway, through the lion's den, and back to the elevator. Once inside, you let out a breath. Hotch turned to look at you, but you spoke up before he had the chance.

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

You would’ve yelled at him, tore him to pieces in the elevator ride from the fourth floor to the exit, but there was a guard escorting you out. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of watching two FBI agents battle it out. And honestly, you weren’t sure if you had the heart to yell at him after all he’d been through.

But once you were escorted through the exterior gates, your team in sight, you regained the nerve to give Hotch a piece of your mind.

Not before he spoke first though.

“You did exactly what needed to be done. I didn’t ask you to act that way toward him, and I’m sorry you feel that that was your only way in. But I’m not going to apologize for getting the name of the killer.”

“So you would have acted in the same degrading way if the roles were reversed?”

He scoffed. “Yes, I would have. Because unlike you, my feelings don’t impair my judgement or ability to do this job. You’re an asset to this team, you need to find a way to get your emotions in check.”

You stopped walking, turning around to face him. You were in the middle of the driveway now, SWAT and BAU canvassing the scene. But you were going to do this here and now.

“The only reason you brought me here was to appeal to that sick son of a bitch. The only thing that makes me an asset to you is the fact that I have a vagina and you don’t. You turned me from a Supervisory Special Agent into a fighting fuck toy! You watched as I drained every ounce of respect I had for myself to turn into what that psychopath desired, all because I wouldn’t show him pictures of innocent children.” He looked over your shoulder to the team, embarrassed that they were hearing this. “At least have the respect to look at me while I’m talking to you!”

Hotch had never heard you yell like this. You were the calm one, the baby, as Derek called you. No one ever pushed you so far over the edge to get a reaction out of you. At least, not until he did.

“The next time you ask me, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia to flirt our way into a serial killer's mind, to expect us to degrade ourselves in order to save another woman, I will not hesitate to report you to Strauss.” You could hear footsteps behind you, but you continued on as tears started to form in your eyes. “You used to say that my empathy was what made me an amazing agent. That my ability to connect with victims and families was the reason I’m here. So do not try and make me feel worthless for possessing something that you wish you could have. Because the way you act, with no capability for empathy, is a depressing way to live.”

“Y/n,” Spencer rested a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off.

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

Before you could say anything else, Spencer dragged you away from Hotch and towards the cars. You could feel the tears freely falling down your cheeks, but you made no effort to remove them. You ignored the stares from the rest of your team, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing what went down in that interrogation room. Instead, you got into the passenger seat of the suburban, and Spencer started the drive back to the office.

Rationally, you knew you went off too hard at him. He never deliberately asked you to flirt with Arnold. He asked you to show him the pictures of Lucy, to get him to crack under the fantasy. But you refused. You would rather make yourself go through that pain than any young child. It’s what you’d always done.

Spencer tried to convince you they hadn’t heard the conversation. That they were all too focused on SWAT’s apprehending of the guard to pay attention.

“Spence,” You started and looked over at him. “We all had our earpieces in. You heard every word.”

And he was silent the rest of the ride back. You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep on your couch with reruns playing in the background. But you had a mountain of paperwork to finish, and still needed to debrief when the team got back.

Halfway through your stack, the team came back to the bullpen. Prentiss gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by, heading for her desk. Derek had agreed to let everyone go home without debriefing. This was the earliest we’d been done with a case so close to home. We needed to capitalize on our rest.

JJ was the first to go home, excited to be home in time for dinner with Will and Henry. Prentiss and Rossi followed shortly after, going to celebrate the win of this case at an expensive restaurant, at Dave’s expense.

“Come on you two, don’t make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Derek addressed you and Reid as he pulled his coat on.

“We’re right behind you boss man.” Spencer said and turned his desk light off, grabbing his cane. He should be able to ditch all mobility aids soon.

You swung your backpack over a shoulder and turned off your own light. You didn’t even make it out of your four foot space before Hotch called out to you.

“Y/n, could I see you before you leave?” He was standing in front of his office, on higher ground than the rest of us. Power move, you thought to yourself. But he wouldn’t be that petty.

You looked back to Reid and Moran, the former nodding to you before seeing himself to the elevator. Now it was just Spencer, his eyes begging for you to leave.

“I don’t need to remind you how deeply you care for all of us. But if you keep putting yourself out there to comfort him, you’re going to get destroyed.” This was the first time Spencer had mentioned this to you. Sure, you’d been helping Hotch out at home, a little more than normal, but everybody was pitching in. His wife died for god's sake.

“Spence, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let out a sigh and fidgeted with his cane. You found it at a consignment shop on one of your weekends off, and bought it for him without hesitation. It had an eagle engraved in it’s clutch, something regal, medieval, and screamed Spencer Reid. You ignored the price, a forty dollars more than you would’ve liked to spend on a walking stick, but the look on his face when you gave it to him was priceless.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Nothing excuses the way he treated you today. Regardless of your decision to play a character.”

God, could he read you.

“No pair of rose colored glasses could cloud that. Not even yours.” He gave you one last shadow of a smile before limping his way to the elevator.

Once you regained your composure, you turned to make your way up to Hotch’s office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the paperwork waiting to be filled out before him. You knocked on the open door, and he stood up without even looking at you. You were going to take Spencer’s advice and stick up for yourself, so you had to set the pace.

“Can this be quick? I wanted to get home before traffic started up.” He rounded the front of his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you back at the prison.” You nodded, not wanting to verbally accept the apology that was due to you hours ago. “I was out of line and completely blinded by the case. I should’ve listened to you and taken your reservations into consideration. It was narcissistic of me to think I was the only one capable of making the right decision.”

“Thank you.” You stuttered out, still absorbing the tone of his voice. His word choice was self deprecating, a cry for help if you didn’t know any better.

“Y/n,” He started but was interrupted by a shaky breath. “I hate that I made you feel like all you’re good for is to romance your way into their heads. You deserve to be treated with respect, to be valued because of your empathy and your psychological understanding of victims and their families. If I’ve ever made you feel like you were worthless before this afternoon, please tell me.”

“No, you’ve never made me feel that way.”

He nodded before turning to grab a piece of paper from his desk.

“Good. Because I’ve written up a complaint for Strauss, describing my behavior and language directed toward you today. You shouldn’t have to wait for a next time to file it.”

He extended the paper to you, and you walked until you were standing in front of him, accepting the complaint into your hands. But you didn’t even read it before tearing it in two.

“What are you doing?”

“Hotch, I’m not filing a complaint against you. Everything that I did today was my choice. You didn’t force me into anything.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the first time you’ve seen it tousled in the office.

“I was uncomfortable showing Arnold those pictures. So I made the choice to play a character, to appeal to his fantasy. You weren’t in the room, and you didn’t suggest that. If anything, you tried more than anything to get me to stick to the script. Did you have some choice words for me that weren’t necessarily appropriate? Yes. But we all have our moments. After we got out of there, I felt sick that I had to do that to get a name out of him. It wasn’t the first time I’ve camouflaged myself for the greater good, and it won’t be the last. I took out the self hatred I had on you, because you were there. Because if I did it your way, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror again without feeling ashamed. But you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I do. I deserve to be ridiculed for telling you that your empathy is a weakness. I deserve to be ridiculed for yelling at Garcia for missing something on a search. I deserve,”

His voice broke, and you froze in place. You were about to see Aaron Hotchner cry for the first time in four years. “I deserve to be punished for Haley’s death.”

Your own eyes started to water as you saw a single tear roll down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached forward and held his hands in your own. They were shaking, and he tried to pull them away from you. But you held on tight, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hotch, look at me.” He kept his gaze on the windows, looking out onto the concrete roof.

“Hotch, please.” You were quieter the second time, and that’s what got him to meet your eyes.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you could’ve prevented Haley’s death if you did one thing instead of the other. Because no matter what you did, Foyet would’ve found her, and done this all over again.” He tried to look away from you, but you tugged on his hands, begging him to stay. “But what you did prevent, was Foyet taking away the greatest thing you and Haley ever made. You saved your son, Hotch. And you ended Foyet’s reign of terror. You get to spend every day reminding Jack how amazing his mother was. How strong, resilient, and fierce she was. How she looked death in the eye and didn’t even flinch. You get to live the rest of your life for your son.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting the few remaining tears fall down his face. You let your own fall with the reprieve of no longer being under his stare, not wanting to fall apart when he needed you.

“I love her. I never stopped loving her. The divorce, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of this job.”

You squeezed his hands before letting them go, letting him wipe off his face.

“I know. And I know she never stopped loving you.”

You never thought you would get to this moment when you first met Haley. You let out a small laugh while remembering your first encounter, how pregnant and angry she was at Hotch.

“What?” You smiled and shook your head.

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.”

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was.

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in.

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?”

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot.

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.”

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground.

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level.

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.”

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back.

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again.

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack.

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded.

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack.

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name.

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?”

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed.

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges.

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.”

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little.

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.”

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile.

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,”

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.”

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home.

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking.

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip.

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house.

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.”

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter.

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!”

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!”

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests.

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed.

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times.

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite.

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar.

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him.

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair.

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.”

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top.

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces.

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked.

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.”

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five.

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.”

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom.

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door.

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life.

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?”

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much.

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder.

“So who’s in the lead now?”

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping.

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could.

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.”

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.”

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms · 4 years ago

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Outsmart

(I’m putting the request at the bottom this time to not give anything away!)

*Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: Sherlock(BBC)

Warnings: Death(Murder), very brief mentions of arson and abuse.

Pairings/Characters: Fem!reader, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson

Sherlock didn't like this. Not one bit. He didn't like not knowing something. And he certainly wasn't pleased that you had, somehow, figured it out before him. He had his blue eyes fixed on you in a way that made you slightly uncomfortable. Instead of telling him that though, you used your best defense. A little snark.

"Is that jealousy I detect, Sherlock? I only did what you do. You taught me well, after all." Sherlock said nothing for a moment but finally turned his eyes away from you. "How? How did you deduce that it wasn't his colleague? The colleague had the means, motive, and the time." You gave a little shrug.

"Easy. The other professor may have had all those things, but he also had an alibi. You see, the other professor always pays a visit to a…a house of ill repute on Friday and Saturday evenings. He partakes in various vices, although the one we should be looking at is his weekend drug cocktail. Based on the time of death, the suspect would have had no physical way of committing the murder even though he was also in the building with the victim. Too many different drugs floating through his system."

Sherlock knew that. Of course he knew that! He was an addict. But the question was, how did you know that? How had you even discovered the professor's secret habits? How had you eliminated a suspect before he had? There was hardly any evidence to suggest it. "Anyway, I have to go. I have things to do. Good day, Sherlock. Let me know if you need me again." With that, you flitted out the door, leaving Sherlock behind, thinking.

"I think you've met your match, Sherlock," Watson stated, sipping his tea. Sherlock didn't reply. His mind going over the same question again and again. How had you outsmarted him? How had you beaten him to a conclusion? He pondered on this for what seemed like hours until his phone rang again. Another victim. His newest mystery would have to wait. He had a murderer to catch.

*short time skip*

Sherlock breathed a little sigh of relief when he looked at the smoking hole he'd left in the wall. Three bodies, no real leads, yet somehow, you'd been managing to find information and deduce something about each victim. It was never much, like the first suspect's weekend habits or the second victim's love for setting things on fire or the third's enjoyment of hitting his wife. It wasn't enough to completely solve the case, just to rule out a suspect or motive or two.

"Why don't you just ask her to help with the case?" Watson had suggested. Sherlock glared at his flat mate. "I do not need her help. I just need to think. I need to go to my Mind Palace." Sherlock practically plopped himself down on the floor and closed his eyes. He let his mind sort through everything he knew about the case. Who the victims were, how they were killed, and all the possible suspects. The pieces were fitting together like a puzzle, but there was a piece missing. Who or what in their lives to all the victims have in common other than having some sort of vice that be deadly?

Nothing was fitting and it certainly didn't help that you kept popping into his Mind Palace, taunting him with your presence. It wouldn't have bothered him if you were actually helpful, but you weren't. You were just standing there. It was like you were children, keeping that last piece of the puzzle out of his reach. A piece that you couldn't possibly have unless…

Sherlock's eyes flew open and he shot to his feet. "Come, Watson!" He darted out the door, barely stopping to grab his coat, hat, and scarf. As quickly as he could, Sherlock found his way to your flat. Your flat mate refused him entry, but handed him a note saying five words. To where it all began

Sherlock let his mind wander through all the scenarios in his head, all the places you could be. It didn't take him long to figure it out, of course. The first case you worked on with him. The victim had been found in the sewer tunnels connecting all of London. He briefly heard Watson thank your flat mate as he ran off. He didn't need to look over his shoulder know Watson was following. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He was almost there. He was so close to solving this case. He just needed to get to you.

Just as he suspected, another victim was waiting for them. One glance at the body on the ground confirmed Sherlock's suspicions. The victim wasn't you. That meant…

"Oh good. I was beginning to think you'd never figure it out." You stepped out of the shadows, a smirk painted on your lips. "The great Sherlock Holmes. You know, I never expected it would take this long. I expected to be caught after victim number one as soon as Lestrade called you in. Three, well now four, bodies. I must say I'm…disappointed, Sherlock. I thought you were better than this. I gave you all the clues you could need."

You sank down into a squat to look over your handiwork. "Such a shame. This one's pretty. Still, it was inevitable." You stood again, your (e/c) eyes piercing into Sherlock's. "I congratulate you, Miss Y/L/N. You managed to convince me you weren't part of this. Right up until the end." Your smirk grew.

"But why?" Watson asked, "Why do it at all when you knew Lestrade would call Sherlock in?" Sherlock scoffed, placing one hand in his pocket. "It's obvious, John. Y/N wanted me to catch her. But why? Why go through all this trouble? Why kill so many only to be caught on purpose?"

"You're NOT THINKING!" you shouted, "STOP THINKING LIKE A DETECTIVE AND START THINKING LIKE ME! Like a…murderer," you whispered that last word, confusing Sherlock. A moment ago, you had seemed proud of what you'd done. Now, you seemed unsure. It wasn't any type of mental illness. No. This was something else.

"Think about it. What did all your victim's have in common, Sherlock?" you asked, "What were they?" Sherlock let his mind go over the facts of the case before looking down at the last victim. "Who is this?" You scoffed lightly. "My former friend. At least, I thought he was my friend once." Sherlock's brows furrowed. You hadn't known any of the others personally.

"What was his name?" You gave it to him with a smile. That was all he needed. He'd seen the name in Scotland Yard's files. He was once accused of assaulting a young woman, but there was never enough corroborating evidence to support the claim. Eventually, the young woman died of her wounds and it was ruled an accidental death.

"Your sister…he was responsible for your sister's death." You nodded. "My poor, sweet sister. All she wanted was to be loved. He was there for her. He treated her well…until he didn't. When he didn't receive any consequences, I snapped. I knew he would have to pay somehow."

"And the others?" You shook your head and clenched your fists at your sides. "More of the same. Victim 2 set a house on fire with an elderly couple inside. Ruled an accident because the woman had dementia. Victim 3 beat his wife. That alone wasn't enough. He was also responsible for the death of his previous wife, but nothing was ever proven."

All the pieces finally clicked in Sherlock's mind. You weren't the person who killed for the thrill of it. You were an avenging angel. You killed to get justice for those who couldn't get it for themselves. "And the first?" Sherlock asked and you looked sheepishly down at your feet.

"An unfortunate accident. He wasn't my intended victim." Sherlock nodded as you confirmed his suspicions. "You were intending on killing the other professor. My original suspect. I suppose he too was responsible for a crime and did not face justice." You gave him a nod. "Yes. You see, I didn't kill just to kill. But now it's done and I need to face my own justice."

Sherlock sighed. "You've already called the police," he stated. As soon as he'd seen you step out of the shadows, he'd figured everything out. The sounds of sirens confirmed it. What kind of Avenging Angel would you be if you didn't accept your own justice when it came? "Thank you, Sherlock." With that, you climbed out of the sewers and raised your hands. Sherlock and Watson climbed up in time to see Donovan slamming the door of the car. Your eyes met Sherlock's and you did something he didn't expect. You smiled.

(a/n; I couldn’t make you lovelies just some random serial killer this time! Based on this request: Hi! I was wondering if I may request a Sherlock × Fem!reader where the reader kinda outsmarts Sherlock on a case but really she was in on the crime the entire time? Apologies if it doesn’t make sense 😅 )

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #x reader #john watson

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adamdriverwrites · 5 years ago

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Carpe Noctem || Part 3

Plot summary: Mob boss’s daughter & bodyguard au ft. Kylo Ren. Based off this plot bunny (x)

Warnings: nothing worth mentioning. So your basic mentions of death, swearing, implications of crime.

Word count: 3888

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader

A/N: Here is part 3! Thank you to everyone who commented, I never knew this many people would like my story! I can’t believe the amount of people who have liked and reblogged so thank you so much xxx

Taglist: @helloimindelaware, @dandydragonz, @musicalcoffeebean, @driverficarchive, @hazydespair, @maybell88, @bikinibrattoms, @fanfic-fangirl, @stillreadingfantasy, @0nevergrowoldnevergrowold0, @sarasxe, @um-well,

Masterlist here

You sat in your parked car outside the Supremacy. The facade of the building was seemingly unchanged since you had last seen it all those years ago. It was a large, two story building in a relatively nice neighborhood. Dark stone stretching almost half a block, black windows obscuring a view inside, and a neon red sign with 'The Supremacy' in a cursive font hanging over the door.

It was a long shot coming here, but you were still working up the courage to go to Mallory's apartment. You figured this was a suitable stepping stone. She had mentioned her friend in passing conversations, had apparently worked at the establishment for years. You didn't know what time she worked, day or night, and she probably wasn't even here today but you didn't want to head back home right away. And it was a long shot in which you were wiling to investigate a little further. You had to start somewhere.

There was a lone member of security outside the front doors. Black clothes, tall figure, imposing; completely the modus operandi of your father's workers. There was no line to get in, not unsurprising given it was mid afternoon on a Friday so you straightened your leather jacket and walked up to the bald, intimidating bouncer.

His eyes looked you up and down, before quirking an eyebrow. "ID?"

You pulled your ID from your pocket, where it was nestled in between your card and your phone and handed it to him without fault. He looked it over, eyes checking the photo matched your profile before he looked back at the driver's license. His brown eyes widened profusely, and he handed it back to you.

"Sorry, Miss Snoke." He stepped the side, an arm outstretched to welcome you into the establishment your father owned. You entered a dark hallway, bass in the music traveling further, blackout curtains separated as you walked through. Your eyes were assaulted by bright, colourful lights. Dancing wildly around the room in perfect time with the music. Four elevated stages, with poles that stretched to the ceiling were placed around the room, seats arranged the stage. Tables were littered in between and a long bar was nestled against the far wall. It was slightly more busy that you thought it would be, your expectations exceeded to see a woman dancing on a stage, six men littered around her in various seats. A few more patrons sat at a table, two women talking to the group, flirting and petting the men in their suits.

You had never actually been in the Supremacy. But it was a classier joint than you extrapolated. Surfaces looked clean, and the air was fresh with a hint of perfume. Black furniture, and red silk curtains hanging from the ceiling provided some tables extravagant privacy on the wall opposite the bar. Large stairs in front of you wound up to the second floor. Another set of double doors were open, revealing a long hallway that disappeared. A glass railing on the second floor surrounded the deck, and you noticed it linked all the way around to a second floor office. The front wall of the office consisted entirely of glass, a suitable viewing precipice for whoever ran this place for your father now.

You spotted a male bartender working, polishing glasses and stocking the bar. A young man, maybe in his late twenties, blonde hair and blue eyes, black uniform t-shirt that simply had 'The Supremacy' in the same font. You walked forward, weaving through the empty tables before you stepped up to the bar. He looked up, smile painted on his previously vacant face, and put down a glass and a polishing rag.

"Welcome!" His eyes raked over your form quickly, and it felt like he was vaguely ogling you. "What's your poison?"

You gave a half assed attempt at a smile, "I'm not here for a drink."

"Hmm," he hummed in interruption, leaning forward on the bar. "A dance? A job, then?"

You bit your lip, "No-"

"I mean, you've got a great body but, darlin’, this is one of the best clubs in town. Girls are dying to dance here."

You were sick of him interrupting you. Ogling you. You had little patience today, so you decided to tell a half-lie just to shut him up. "I know. My Father owns this place." You had no idea of the waiting list to work here, but you pretended.

His face stilled and he leaned back slightly. You pulled your ID from your pocket once again and waved it in front of his face for good measure, then placed it back into your jacket. "I want to talk to Lacy. Is she around?"

He reeled, "Look, I didn't mean no disrespect, I had no idea-"

"I don't give a shit." You interrupted him in turn. "It's important, I just want to see Lacy. I don't know her stripper name but I know she works here."

"She's not in, she hasn't been in for a few days, I don't know her work schedule but I can get the manager? He'll know more than me."

You nodded your head. "Okay, sure."

He leaned over, leaning his hand under the bar, he pressed something and his eyes averted up to the office you had spied previously. He withdrew his hand and picked up the glass and rag once more. "He'll be down in a moment. Wait here."

You nodded, and watched as he moved down the bar slightly, back to restocking the glasses on the wall.

You gazed around, music changing as the dancer walked off the stage after collecting her money, another dancer filling her spot. The men didn't move, cigars between their lips and drinks in hand, patiently waiting to get their fill. All men looked successful, and had amber liquid swirling in their glasses. Suits adorned their bodies and shiny watches adorned their wrists. It was easy to assume this was a classy establishment, catering to more high paying clientele.

Which confused you slightly because this business had originally started as a front. It was a way for your father to launder money from his other ventures that were less than legal. Or a way to siphon a small amount anyway - he had a few legitimate businesses for this purpose now but the Supremacy had been one of the first.

Clearly, the Snoke name was still among high standards of rich and elite of New York. Your father had all sorts of friends in all sorts of places, and almost all of them owed him favors. Politicians, lawyers, moguls - clearly they all wanted to be a part of something bigger, something mysterious. The Snoke crime family.

A blur out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. At the top of the stairs you noticed a tall figure in a dark, all black suit. Pale skin, bright red hair, and a caustic confidence you could feel from basically halfway across the room.

Armitage Hux.

You didn't fight the smirk that curved your lips as your eyes locked with his. A chilling smirk mirrored his lips and he made his way down the stairs. Eyes completely focused on you.

You couldn't believe he was still alive - let alone running the fucking Supremacy. His father had been an advisor of your own. A part of a small council that ran the whole operation. Hux had been around when you were a kid, though he was closer to Ares' and Roman's age than yours.

He had been a smarmy, confident piece of shit growing up. Like a lot of people, he was at your house often. You didn't start getting to know each other until you were a little older, around 12 or 13, before you left for boarding school. You still thought he was a cocky shit, but the two of you had something in common.

A disdain for Lyon.

He seemed to rub a lot of people the wrong way, though you never seemed to mind him too much. But you were a good judge of character - you knew he was manipulative, cunning, cruel even. But he had always had a good head for business, and was loyal to the Snoke family and the Order. If you knew what you were expecting, then it wasn't that bad.

Hux approached the bar, green eyes piercing as he walked closer. He spoke your name with an almost unbelievable exhale. "I didn't know you were back in town."

"Well, you don't know everything."

"Ah, but I do. That's my expertise." He came to stand in front of you, looking you over before leaning against the bar nonchalantly. He looked exactly the same as you remembered, if only aged slightly, soft wrinkles around his eyes. Otherwise his hair was still perfectly gelled back, not a strand out of place, his clothes still immaculately pressed with his usual stiff and rigid posture.

"Never the less, to what do I owe the pleasure?" His eyes shifted to the bartender behind you and he flicked his finger, his attention returned to you. Pale green eyes absorbing your figure. "Tell me you're here for me." You knew you were rather heavy in the chest area, and had an ass to boot, but you weren't under the allusion you were pretty, or gorgeous by any means. In fact you felt particularly plain enough to go under the radar. Though since being home, you hadn't felt more like the opposite. You figured it was the stark growth spurt you had under gone since you were last back home. Last everyone knew - you were just a teenager. Prepubescent and awkward.

"Not quite," you huffed, "I actually just wanted to talk to Lacy." His head raised slightly, eyebrow cocked before realization dawned on his face but you spoke anyway. "She was friends with Mallory."

"Oh... yes. I'm sorry for your loss, I suppose.” You wanted to smile at his awkwardness before he sighed. “Your father has been... never mind. You came all the way here just to talk and reminisce with a stripper?"

Again, you felt the instinctual need to lie, but resisted. "I just wanted to hear some things about Mallory's life, since I've been gone so long." It wasn't a lie, technically.

The bartender's presence interrupted your conversation, and he placed two glasses of scotch down on the bar before making himself scarce. You didn't want to drink, though now it was placed in front of you, you wanted to knock the whole thing back.

"Anything for you." An almost evil, calculating smirk curved his lips. "But first, let's catch up in my office. You owe me that much."

"I don't owe you anything."

He hummed out a laugh, signalling something you didn't know to the bartender and gestured up the stairs towards his office. It was a short walk, though his close presence felt behind you made it feel longer than it actually was. You reached his office, and he opened the double doors, allowing you inside before shutting them behind you.

It was a big area, not wide, but particularly long as it recessed into the building. Half of the office was glass, giving a perfect view to the club below. It was dark grey walls with a flourish of a red velvet couch. A desk with a few papers were scattered on it, and you noticed it was devoid of any type of computer. You guessed your father was still paranoid about any digital trails leading to evidence that could prove hurtful.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the red velvet seat situated opposite his desk. "It’s been a long time. What have you been up to all these years?"

You walked forward, taking a sip of your drink before collapsing into the comfortable seat, eyes watching Hux as he rounded the desk and followed suit. "Studying..." you shrugged, "working... enjoying life away from my family."

"It would appear so." Hux's eyes flashed with something, and a smirk graced his lips again. "He sent you off to boarding school, you graduated, and never came back. Clearly you were off having fun."

"Fun is for children."

"Which you are not." Again Hux looked over your form.

"You know what he's like, it’s why I didn't come back. Why are you still here?"

"I've worked hard to get where I am today, my loyalty and allegiance to the First Order and the Snoke family-"

"And look what you have to show for it; a strip club?" You interrupted his tirade. "You've done far more than Lyon has and less to show for it. You respect nepotism?"

His nostrils flared at the mention of your brother and you knew that he was still a sore spot for Armitage. "That is but one instance. Not everyone of import in the Order is of your father's blood."

You nodded, "Phasma?"

"Ren."

It was your turn for your nostrils to flare and you quirked a brow. "My father's bodyguard?"

"That's a simplification. I wish his duties were that insignificant."

"Well they are now."

"What do you mean?"

"He's been tasked as my bodyguard while I'm here."

Hux leaned forward at this, elbows resting on his desk, his interest suddenly focused. "Is that so?"

"Why is that so interesting?" This piqued your curiosity. "What does he do for my father exactly?"

Hux seemed to choose his next words carefully. "Ren is his... fidus Achates, his saboteur, his right hand man."

You got that sense with how often he was in your father's office. He was even in his office when he had kicked Lyon out earlier. If anything that was conducive to the fact that he was more trusted than any other man you knew about in the Order. Even when you were a kid, your father didn't have any men that seemed permanently glued to the shadowy corners of the room.

"Whatever problems your father has, Ren makes them go away."

"So like his hitman?" You ask.

"More like a rabid animal." Hux spat the words, and you gathered there was a little contempt from the red headed man. "Kept on leash by only your father and let loose whenever he pleases. You thought he was ruthless before you left? Well, Ren is solving every problem with bloodshed and violence."

"Unnecessarily?" You sipped your drink, leaning back into your seat.

"No, your father points his finger, and Ren takes care of the rest... destroys everything in his path."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. "If he’s so important why would my Dad assign him to me?"

This made Hux smirk. "Precisely."

You had your perceptions about Armitage, you had known him since you were young. While you didn't trust him exactly, you trusted that you knew him well enough to talk about Mallory.

"He thinks something happened to Mallory."

"I know." Hux sipped the amber liquid. "We've talked about it. While Ren handles the... messier assignments, my strength is acquiring knowledge and intel."

"And what have you found out?"

"Nothing." He didn't look like he was lying, not that you were sure what that even looked like. "Not yet, anyway. Is that why you're here?"

You sipped your drink again, if only to stall time before you answered. "I just wanted to talk to Lacy, but yes."

"And now look at you, talking to me. Isn't this so much better?"

Your mind couldn't help but wander, back to Kylo. So much mystery surrounded him, leaving you in the dark and Hux was finally providing a little light on the situation. And he seemed rather accepting to share. You made a mental note to think of some questions to ask him, hoping that he would give some truthful answers.

About to open your mouth, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you pulled it out of your pocket to see a message from your father. And two missed calls.

Where are you? We're having an early dinner. Just family.

You withheld a sigh that wanted to escape, and you looked back to your company. "I've got to go." You threw back the rest of your whiskey and put it on his desk before standing up.

"So soon?" Hux mirrored your movements. "You just got here."

"I'll see you soon."

He grabbed a pen and paper off his desk, handing it to you. "write down your number, when Lacy comes in I'll let you know."

You wanted to question his helpfulness but decided against it. Feverishly writing down your digits and handing it back to him instead. "Thanks, Hux."

"Of course."

Leaving the Supremacy left you feeling a little defeated. Even though Hux said he would text you when Lacy was next in, it meant today had come to a standstill, stagnant in your search for information. Your next plan was to head to the penthouse, see what possessions of Mallory's was still around, however, your fathers text had brought that idea to a standstill. Maybe you could go later tonight, when everything had calmed down? Jumping back into your car, you sent a quick reply to your Dad

Just at the store getting tampons, leaving now.

You hoped he was grossed out enough by a woman’s basic bodily functions to not want to reply. Starting your car, the V8 grumbling loudly. You pulled from the curb and headed to the direction of your house.

Seeing Hux again after so many years was a refreshing change of pace. He acted the same as he did all those years ago and looked the same too, save for a few wrinkles displaying the passage of time. The two of you catching up was good, and he had divulged some impertinent information regarding your new ‘bodyguard’ that proved fruitful. You hoped next time he would be even more forthcoming.

The drive home was shorter than you expected, just less than an hour. Traffic was light, and you were pulling into the Snoke driveway before you knew it. You wished it had dragged on longer, you half preferred sitting in your car than going inside to drink and eat with your family. You hadn't shed a single tear at the funeral earlier today, and you expected the strong facade you had adapted was going to falter.

As you drove down the long winding driveway, rounding the towering willow trees either side you came into view of the house, and then the garage. The electronic door at the very end already open, you didn’t have time to be confused as a tall, dark form came into view.

Kylo.

He was standing in your spot, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as his dark eyes stared at you. His stoic form didn't move until you came forward, moving so you could park your car in the area he had occupied. You killed the engine once you parked and didn't have time to open your door before he had done it for you.

"Welcome home." You grabbed your belongings from the seat beside you and looked up at the man standing over you. Once you were clear, he shut the drivers side door, and blocked the way to inside the house. You tried to maneuver around him but he moved to defer you.

This caused you to sigh. Your eyes darted up to meet his.

"Yes?"

"Your father’s been worried."

You rolled your eyes. "I was gone for a few hours, so that's his problem."

"And his problems become my own." He stepped forward, the small distance between you became even smaller. "If you don't want me to come with you then you at least need to tell me where you're going."

It was obvious now what he was getting at. Your little field trip to go see Hux had apparently not gone unnoticed. Or, well, to the store to get tampons if your message was to be believed. You didn't think your father was going to be enforcing the whole bodyguard thing so intensely, or so quickly. Though an idea came to mind.

"You seem like a moderately intelligent guy..." Your eyes looked over his form. "Built for brute force rather than a boring protective detail of the little old likes of me." His full, pink lips encompassed the cigarette to take a puff and it almost momentarily made you falter. His hum pulled you from your thoughts of what they could have felt like and you continued. "I have a proposition for you."

"And what would that be?"

"Surely you have more important things to deal with. Which is why, if you want to do your own thing while I do my own, that's totally understandable - in fact, its actually preferable." For the first time since you've been home you tried to plaster a welcoming smile on your face. Trying hard to seem like a demure little girl your Dad had painted you to be.

Kylo expelled a huff of breath, something akin to a laugh. Your smile faltered slightly at the thought of him laughing at you.

"Your father relies on my ability to perfectly..." he searched for the proper words, throwing his cigarette over your shoulder onto the concrete behind you. "execute whatever he asks of me."

"And you can do that, really make a difference!" It was hard to try appear as chipper as you were. Manipulation was a hard game, and you were not a happy person. "Instead of following me to the mall, or to see my friends while I'm here, you can strive to make my Dad proud."

You weren't much of a shopper, and you had no friends here to speak of. It was a low shot, but you hoped by his assumptions on your gender and what most women liked to do, you could get away with the lie.

"Your father informed me of your shrewd capabilities." You didn't know it was possible but he walked forward another step, closing the distance between you two. You had to strain your head to look up at him. He spoke with a deep conviction that conveyed anger being tethered by a small sliver of control. "It's why he chose me for the job. I won't be swayed so easily, especially by a spoiled little princess."

Your smile faltered, and you felt your rage flourish at his words. Suddenly, you couldn't be bothered with this shit. You would think about it later, when your mind wasn't so clouded with the thought of Mallory. "Good luck." You moved past him, looking over your shoulder as you walked into the door that led to the house, shooting him one last look. "Haven’t you heard? I’m cursed.”

He watched you walk away, exhaling the last cloud of smoke through his nostrils. The door to the garage slammed before he dug his hand deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a small gps tracker. Getting down on the floor, he leaned underneath your car by the rear wheel frame. Pulling off the small adhesive backing, he pressed it to the metal where it would be hidden. Flicking the switch to activate, he quickly paired the device to the app on his phone before getting up, and following suit into the Snoke manor.

#kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo x you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren au #kylo ren imagine #carpe noctem #adam driver #adam driver x reader

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starrybbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

high flying, pt. 3 | [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x superhero!Reader

Summary: bucky has no memory of you using magic. certain teammates are catching on, but you’re standing your ground. trouble brews as you’re training yourself.

Word Count: 1932 (more substance! i promise this one is worth it)

Author’s note: originally, this was supposed to be a 3 part thing, but i’m pretty sure there’s be 4 total. don’t worry I’ve tried to make these next two as long as possible, but also still entertaining. but, the main attraction is coming soon. as i’ve said before, i appreciate all of your feedback! :)

Warnings: more swearing, some more magic, and a cliffhanger.. maybe. I’ve sprinkled some fluff to make up for it. also if you know someone from mit, i apologize in advanced.

Part 1 Part 2

Smack smack smack went your feet across the padding... It became mundane as you kept fighting the still punching bag, and much more tiring.

While practicing some combat moves, you started thinking about the meeting. Surely, no one was able to identify you, but you’re sure as hell Steve and Bucky might have an inclination. And rightfully so, as you partially wiped the mind of a friend.

You thought about the moment Bucky stared you down in the conference room, his mind trying to put two and two together, but alas couldn’t make a connection. Maybe he is that clueless, you thought to yourself.

However, if Steve is able to connect the dots as to why Bucky can’t remember certain moments of certain days, then you might be into some hefty trouble. And if he were to find out you casted a spell on his best friend, you might jeopardize your job.

But at the same time, you thought about your own safety, your privacy. You weren’t ready to take on a huge role, much less when you’re not used to your powers. It was a tug and pull, but you were committed to letting everyone know once you had the capacity to control it.

You were deep in thought when you felt yourself levitate slightly. It was a force of habit, but you let it happen, letting your thoughts occupy you.

As you stood, er- floated, there while pondering, you heard the gym door open and you quickly grabbed a hold of the pull up bar. Making their way towards you is Steve and Bucky, both carrying duffle bags on their side. The boys stare at you incredulously as you’re holding onto the bar.

“How’s it hanging down there?” you half joked, as Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky was suppressing a smile.

“Very funny,” Steve said, “we were looking for you all over, figured this might be the last place to look.”

“Well,” you started, still on the pull-up bar, “your inclinations were correct.”

Bucky eyed you, gears churning in his head, trying to see why you doing pull-ups felt… off.

You sensed Bucky’s confusion as he stared at you just dangling from the bar, and so you thought fast. You fell on your knees as you abruptly let go of the bar and planted onto the floor. A loud oof was heard as Steve audibly gasped at the sight.

“I’m fine!” you said nonchalantly as Bucky scooped you up and stood in front of you.

Bucky shook his head and began to speak, “we came by to find you—”

“You came to find her,” Steve interrupted, “I just came to support Bucky because he’s always afraid to talk to ya.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Bucky interjected, “but anyways, the team and I are headed out of the country for 5 days. Ireland, specifically. I think it’s business related. So we won’t be long.”

A slight hum escaped your mouth, nodding at the statement Bucky had said. “Look at you two, being business-y,” you joked as Bucky cracked a smile, while Steve rolled his eyes.

“Well, sweetheart, I’ll have you know I’m all business, all the time,” he added, earning a groan from you and Steve.

You stood in front of the duo. If anyone knew awkward, it’s definitely these two centenarians. Another moment of silence overcame the gym, as three of you just stared at each other, and you crossed your arms, waiting.

“Oh, for god’s sake Buck,” Steve sighed, “Y/N, Bucky told me he was going to miss you and he didn’t know if you felt the same way.”

You raised your eyebrows at the duo, Bucky blushing ever so slightly and Steve looking more exasperated than usual.

“Well,” you coughed, “Let Bucky know that I will miss the team equally… but, I’ll miss him slightly more.”

Bucky smiled at the last comment and went to hug you. Steve came in for a hug too and broke away and said they should get going, as they shouldn’t be running late. Bucky slowly let go and sheepishly waved goodbye as the duo started to head out.

As the two walked away, you carefully shot some magic their way, a safe travel spell, and he closed the door. You saw through the windows that Steve and Bucky looked confused at the slight lavender aura around them, how they smelled of rose and vanilla all of sudden.

Steve shoots you a look through the window, and all you do is laugh and shrug. You go towards the back of the gym, and reveal your silver staff hiding in plain sight, and begin to twirl it. It begins to glow with its purple hue, and you start practicing with it.

Maybe they’ll figure it out, it doesn’t matter. But, it is kind of fun messing with the guys.

。。

6:45 pm, 5 days later

The compound had been eerily quiet the past five days, and you were elated that your friends were coming back in a couple of hours. Most importantly, Bucky was coming back.

You promised yourself it was now the time to make a move. You pondered for hours with your stuffed animal and your best friend, the latter being slightly more responsive.

You also let your friend Betsy know that you have completely gotten a hang of your powers, and your friend suggested that you might be ready to fight alongside the Avengers.

You hesitated at that suggestion. You were really good, but that’s only because you kept practicing in the simulation room at the gym. Sometimes you're thrown a curveball in the real world. But you knew you’d have the support of your friends whenever you’re crime fighting.

Betsy asked about Bucky’s flight back. It left at around 7 this morning, so you predicted they might come around the afternoon. She commented that a normal flight from Ireland usually is 8 hours long, if there are no layovers.

That means they should’ve arrived here at around 3. The quinjet is fairly punctual, and it isn’t like the team to be taking that long. Especially with the time differences, everyone would’ve been eager to come back home to sleep off the jet lag.

You asked FRIDAY if there was any GPS location of the quinjet the team was boarded on, but oddly enough there wasn’t any. FRIDAY reported that the last signal was sent from Queens, which meant they were almost here. Flying from the city to upstate New York took an hour, tops.

“This isn’t looking good,” you said to your friend with concern. Both of you kept throwing off ideas as to why there was a delay, when FRIDAY notified you of an incoming message.

You opened up the hologram and there said a message that read: In trouble. Top of building. Call backup. B.

“Call backup?” you questioned, “but there’s no one except me and Peter. All the other other Avengers were either with Steve or they’re doing other minor missions. And I’m pretty sure other agents don’t have the clearance to do this type of stuff… right?”

That only leaves once choice, Y/N, your friend commented. You’re gonna have to brave this out with Peter.

“Peter’s a child,” you argued.

When he wants to be, your friend interjects. He can put up a fight, I’ve seen him on the news.

You keep weighing your options, when you hear a knock on the door.

“Uh, Y/N?” Peter asked, “did you get that text from FRIDAY? I think the guys are in trouble. Most importantly your secret boyfriend is in trouble but that’s beside the point. I want to do this, but I’m by myself and I can’t do the saving by myself, I mean I can, but I need your help.”

Peter is dressed in his suit, minus the mask, and he peeks inside more to see you talking to your friend. You look at your friend, back to Peter, to the message, back to your friend, and then back to Peter.

You opened your closet and then opened a secret drawer. You saw your suit, and next to it, your silver staff.

“Peter,” you sighed, “Let’s grab a small jet and get to the bottom of this. Lord knows I’ve prepared myself for this.”

。。

As the jet got closer to the main city, you and Peter tried to intercept any signal or clue to find your friends. You put the jet on autopilot, and pulled up a map of the city to see the roofs of any tall building.

You groaned slightly, “this is hopeless, there’s no way we can pinpoint a place quickly.”

You wondered as to how a quinjet of such size can’t be detected by just plain eyesight. Either that, or it was time to get your vision checked out.

Then Peter started to sense something: it was by a building on Liberty Street. He then pulled up a hologram and started zooming in on the roof of that building. It was difficult to see, but there was a ball of light sort of floating above the roof.

You were called over by Peter to check it out, and as the jet slowly started to get closer, and you pulled out some binoculars, you can vaguely recognize some burly men all bunch up together.

“Peter, try to land on the roof that is two buildings over from that building,” you suggested. As the jet neared the roof, you decided to turn off the engines and used your magic to safely land the jet. It was no easy feat, but it was done.

Getting out of the jet, you and Peter went towards the roof’s ledge that got as close as possible to the building with the floating light ball.

Using your binoculars once again, you got a clearer image of who was on top.

It was the boys. And they were surrounded by a bunch of guys dressed in black, with one scrawny dude standing by a weird contraption.

“That doesn’t look pretty,” Peter commented through his suit. His AI was explained to you and Peter that the scrawny was an ex-Stark employee, and the machine was used to keep the Avengers captive, while also a finding way to try and blow up the compound. Karen, the AI, proclaimed that the machine had major flaws and said it wouldn’t take much to take it down.

“Can you tell Karen that while that sounds optimistic, there are also only two of us, and bunch of bad guys,” you groaned. This definitely wasn’t in a gym simulation.

“Sure... but,” Peter started, “we do have your powers, and my strength, and my ability to distract people. Also, I think it’s your time to shine, I think we’re both ready to do this.”

You looked over to the other roof. You vaguely saw Bucky’s arm glistening in the sunlight. He looked confused and afraid. It looked like was looking upwards in every direction, trying to find any sign of backup. Luckily for him, it isn’t that far away.

“Peter, you’re right,” you replied. “And I think I have a surefire way to save our boys.”

You took your staff out of the sheath that was on your back. It slowly started to glow, and your whole demeanor changed. Now wasn’t the time to back down, it’s time to fight. And fight hard.

“Karen, give us a rundown of our surroundings. I have a plan that will make sure than Peter and I can kick scrawny intern ass.”

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yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

Text

The Crucible (part eight)

[Carrie AU; UK Tour]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Word count: 10,126

TW: None, for once lol

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

-Dreamer In Disguise-

“Tell us about the night of May 28th. Of the events leading up to the incident.”

Katherine grit her teeth tightly, then exhaled a sharp breath through her nose, releasing her mounting anger. Her eyes were stinging, like fire ants were infested in the sockets and wouldn’t come out no matter how hard she scratched. Her face was still blotchy and washed out from crying, but she held herself as confidently as always, not willing to give into the crime Mulaney so desperately wanted her to be a part of.

“It was meant to be a celebration.” Katherine said strongly. Her voice held no evidence that she had been crying just a few minutes ago. “It was supposed to be the biggest night of our high school lives. The ending of one chapter and the beginning of the next. If only--” Her words caught for a moment, but she would not break again. “If only--”

“If only what?” Mulaney urged.

“If only I hadn’t told Anna to go to prom with Joan!” Katherine exploded, slamming her palms on the table and making even Madeline jump and Mulaney look at her more warily. It pleased her, and she eased back down, steadying her sharpening breath. “Then maybe nobody would have died. But just because I should have done that, doesn’t mean I regret having her go.”

Mulaney’s eyes glinted and he leaned in, hungry for a confession.

“Anna sent me a picture.” Katherine said. She took out her phone and slid it over the tabletop. The screen showed an image of Anna and Joan, grinning brightly at the camera with two other kids, George Boleyn, Anne’s younger brother, and his girlfriend, Jane Parker. “Look at how happy she is… I’ve never seen her smile like that before. So carefree and peaceful…”

She put her phone back into her pocket and shook her head. She blew out a sigh from her nose.

“That’s why I don’t wish I didn’t have Anna ask her.” She said. “She was happy for the first time in her life. Truly happy. And who am I to take that away from her?”

Her eyes began to burn again. She fingered her shredded tissue, a whirlwind of emotions storming inside her skull. She wanted to release it on this skeptical detective before her and show him that she was innocent.

“I hope it was good for her. That prom. Before things went to hell.”

------

It was like a dream. An actual perfect dream.

The prom glimmered in droplets of amber and gold, sapphire and jade, obsidian and pearl. Fragments of gods and goddesses and mythical creatures prowled across the walls in detailed murals, capturing ancient battles in their canvases forever.

The gym had been morphed into a huge, vaulted space that hummed with activity. Intricately carved Greek pillars and spires and arches dotted the space, and green and silver drapes of silk dipped from the ceiling. White fairy lights were lit up everywhere, casting soft glows across various tapestries and weavings decorating the walls and architecture. Miniature recreations of temples acted as buffets for the hundreds of partygoers, bearing chips and cookies and cakes and other treats. There was even a large bowl-like piece that was shaped like the Great Theater of Epidaurus, holding salad condiments around the wide sides and lettuce in the middle. A chocolate fountain burbled on a nearby table, the most modern-looking piece of decor in there.

The food temples encircled a giant white fake-marble tree that the origins of were unknown to mostly everyone. The trunk was carved with intricate designs that looked like they had taken hours to scratch away, and the lush shrubbery it bore was braided with silver lights, making the entire decoration a beacon of sterling radiance. Transparent ice blue globes hung from the many reaching branches, lit up with fake candles inside of their hallowed out interior. They glowed like captured moons within the party.

The stage was set up to look like the Parthenon, with white pillars along the apron and wings, coiled by ivy and flowers. Golden and iridescent fabric braided the top, glistening in the fairy lights. A hired band was set up at the center, along with the DJ booth, which played most of the music. Behind them were the thrones for prom king and queen, all shiny and poised, ready for their royals.

Music catapulted around the high, canvas-covered walls like thread winding around and around the assembled students. The sound seemed to swallow Joan up, reverberating in her bones. Partygoers whirled together on the dance floor, the colors of their suits and dresses sparkling in bright tornadoes. They stomped and jumped and clapped in time to the beat of the music, a kaleidoscope of rainbow rhythm.

However, the highlight of the ball were the sculptures. There were at least ten different elaborate carvings sparkling importantly in the party space. Twisting spirals, weaving tendrils, and delicate beads mingled with glorious bells and vast shipwrecks, towering trees and clusters of griffon feathers. Joan wanted to run her hands over all of their smooth, bubbly surfaces.

“Anna.” Joan squeezed Anna’s arm tightly. “Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna--”

“Yeah?” Anna looked down at her.

“Look.” Joan pointed to the sculpture garden with her free hand.

“Wanna go look at them?”

Joan nodded vigorously. Anna chuckled. They both began to walk over, and Joan nearly dragged Anna when she leapt forward to look at the closest sculpture, a beautiful, branching ice tree with fat orbs of sugary fruit.

“It’s so pretty…” Joan murmured, her eyes sparkling.

“No wonder it’s so cold in here,” Anna observed. “They have to keep these from melting. Damn, this must have taken forever.”

“Yeah…” Joan nodded slowly, like she was taking in the secrets of the universe. “Ooh, look at that one!”

The two of them went over to a sculpture of roaring waves with captured pieces of poetry within their depths. Joan ogled at the ice with great interest, taking the time to read every piece of paper inside. Anna patiently let her, smiling at her look of awestruck wonderment. She was glad she was distracted so she didn’t notice all the stares they were getting.

But Joan did. She had picked up on it from the moment they stepped inside. It seemed like everyone in the entire gym was staring at her like she was an alien from outer space. She did her best to ignore all of them, but she could feel their eyes burning holes into her skin.

She’s never felt so exposed before, not even in the showers last Friday.

“Why, Anna von Cleves!”

A voice cut through the music and talking and laughter rebounding throughout the gym. Joan spun around and saw two people approaching them- a brunette boy with amber eyes, wearing a black tux, a silvery grey undershirt peeking out around the collar, and a blood red rose boutonniere, and a girl she didn’t recognize. She was taller than her date and had curled dirty blonde hair and grey-green eyes. Her dress was long and flowing, ebony black like the boy’s but dappled with silver specks like stars. The straps were thin and the bodice was gathered and fitted snugly against her bust.

“George!” Anna embraced the boy tightly in one of those “man hugs” men always seem to do, rapping his back so hard it sounded a little painful.

“You look good enough to eat, honey!” George whistled, looking Anna up and down.

“Some would say I am delicious.” Anna said.

“Okay, if you two knew how many people thought you were dating, you wouldn’t be joking about it.” The girl piped up, looking amused.

“Tell Anna to stop looking so goddamn queer!” George chortled.

“You know I always gotta look a little lesbo.” Anna said.

Then, George raised his fists and Joan flinched back a little. She flexed her powers, prepared to save Anna, but then Anna raised her fists, too, and began throwing playful jabs and poked at George’s stomach and chest. George did the same, and they began circling each other like two tuxedo-clad cats standing off against each other for a dead mouse. Joan realized that it was a game of sorts.

“Don’t let it bother you,” The girl said to Joan. “If they kill each other, I’ll dance with you.”

Joan couldn’t smother the smile that came to her lips. She looked down shyly for a moment, then lifted her head again to watch George’s and Anna’s sparring match. Anna tagged George twice, then got jabbed in the waist. They kept grunting and gobbling playful threats to each other.

“They’re too silly to kill,” Joan observed, tilting her head at them. “Like dinosaurs.”

The girl laughed and smiled, and Joan felt something warm flood through her.

Was this what delight felt like?

“Joan,” Anna said. She and George had stopped fighting and she now had an arm around his shoulders. “This is my best buddy, George Boleyn! And this is his girlfriend, Jane Parker. She goes to Chamberlain.”

She didn’t go to Kingston. So maybe that’s why she was being so friendly.

Joan liked it.

“George, Jane, this is Joan.” Anna continued.

“Joan, hi,” Jane smiled down at the girl.

“Joan!” George exclaimed. “Oh shit. Hey, can I just personally apologize for all my sister’s bullshit? I wish I could say she isn’t always like that, but…” He trailed off with a dry laugh.

“Wait…” Joan began to put the pieces together. “George Boleyn… You’re Anne’s brother?”

George laughed. “Yup. The youngest of the bunch. We have an older sister in college named Mary. She turned out pretty okay.”

“...I’m sorry.”

George burst out into even louder laughter. He shook Anna’s side, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Oh, Anna, I love this girl!” He said.

Joan blushed dark red, ducking her head. Anna grinned at her.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” She said.

There was a light touch on Joan’s shoulder, warm and soft, easy for her to shrug off if she wanted. She turned her head to see that it was Jane’s hand.

“I love your dress,” Jane said. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it.” Joan told her.

“Made it?” Jane gaped, looking the length of the sparkling silk gown up and down. “No shit!”

Joan blinked a few times, then echoed, “No shit.”

Jane laughed. Anna grinned even more. Joan felt like a sinful little rebel.

“You really made that?” George asked.

“Oh, now who’s queer?” Anna said, earning her a smack on the arm.

“I did.” Joan answered George. “I like to sew.”

“You have got to teach me sometime!” Anna said. “I tried before but it didn’t turn out so well. A sweater somehow became a snake warmer.”

They all laughed. Joan felt glee bubbling up inside of her the longer and longer she talked to Anna and her friends. It was so nice to be a part of conversations and share her talents with other people.

“Yeah, of course,” Joan said to Anna.

“Hey, ladies,” Said a heavily sneering voice. “And Anne’s brother.”

Maggie, Maria, and a boy came gliding over. Maggie was wearing a pure white toga with gold lace to fit the Greek theme, while the boy, tall and tired-looking, was in a maroon tux. Maria wore a bright tangerine orange dress that had no sleeves and was loaded with fake jewels to make her gown sparkle.

“Hello,” Anna said. There was a sort of warning in her voice, like she was daring the three of them to try something and see what happened.

“Joan!” Maggie exclaimed in a very forced friendly voice. “Wow. You look so...different!”

Joan struggled not to squirm. She didn’t like the way Maggie was looking at her, like she was being sized up. Jane stood tall beside her, a protector of sorts, narrowing her eyes at Maggie.

“Thanks,” Joan mumbled. The bedazzled gems encrusted on Maria’s dress caught her attention and she looked at her in wonder. “Wow… You’re so shiny.”

Maggie snorted. “Shiny?” She said. “Joan, what are you talking about?”

“You made The Human Tide,” Joan went on, ignoring her. She lifted one of Maria’s hands in her own, tracing the lines on her palms. “Passion and lust, envy and yearning, wrath and guilt…” She looked up at her, eyes shining. “Did you put some Sylvia Plath in there?”

“What?” Maggie said uneasily.

“I-I did,” Maria stammered in an oddly rapt way. “I didn’t think anyone would have noticed… Nobody ever understands my pieces.”

“I’m very observant,” Joan stated. “Charles Dickens and Edgar Allen Poe and lines from the Odyssey…”

“Okay, not you’re literally just saying random names.” Maggie said. She looked at the others. “What is going on?”

“Shh.” George shushed her, earning him an evil glare that he deftly dodged around Anna.

“It was very beautiful.” Joan said, releasing Maria’s hand.

“Thank you,” Maria said, wide-eyed. “That--that means a lot. Thank you.”

Joan smiled at her. She looked at Anna in a sort of glance of approval and Anna grinned back at her.

“This is so fucking weird,” Maggie hissed under her breath, the swept away into the crowd. Maria and her date lingered around.

“Oh, hey,” George suddenly said to the boy in the maroon tux. “I know you from...Trigonometry? You’re William, right?”

“Yeah,” The boy, William, nodded.

“Where’d you get your dress?” Maria asked Joan at the same time.

“She made it.” Jane said.

“I made it.”

Maria looked Joan up and down, sort of like Jane did, then said, “Shut up!”

Joan flinched slightly and bristled. “You shut up!”

Maria laughed. Anna set a hand on Joan’s shoulder to relax her, chuckling slightly.

“Really, you made that?” Maria asked.

Joan nodded. “It’s a really simple pattern. I also got the fabric really cheap.”

“Wow.” Maria said. “Give it a twirl!”

“What?”

“Twirl your dress!” Maria specified, then demonstrated, spinning in a shimmering circle of orange and silver. “Like that!”

“Oh--” Joan blinked. “Okay.” She twirled for them.

Maria gasped loudly. “LOOK AT YOUR ASS!!!”

Joan yelped and leapt backwards against Anna, eyes bulging. George burst into laughter. William leaned to the side slightly to get a look and nodded in approval.

“Now THAT’S queer!” George chortled.

“Okay, after seeing your ass, the whole ‘nun in street clothes’ thing is no longer acceptable.” Maria said to Joan.

Joan’s bewildered expression does not lessen. In fact, she looked even more confused and startled after hearing that. Jane leaned down to her and whispered, “It was a compliment.”

“You’re glowing,” Maria said. “You really do look great, Joan. So different!”

Joan blushed shyly. “Thank you.”

Someone gently took Joan’s arm. “Let’s go find our table.” Jane said, and began guiding Joan through the crowd. “Yikes. Why is everyone acting so weird around you?”

“I’m not--usually like this.” Joan said. “All nice and pretty and dressed up. I’m kinda weird…”

“I like weird.” Jane said. “It makes you special.”

Joan ducked her head to hide her bashful expression. Jane chuckled.

“Here we are!” They stop at an empty table that was coiled with ivy and violets. Three candles flickered on the tabletop. Anna and George caught up to them.

“They’re really trusting us with real candles?” George said, peering at the small flames. “Not the best decision they could have made.”

“How are you doing?” Anna asked, sitting down next to Joan. “Feeling alright? Need to go out and get some fresh air? I know parties like this can be a little much. With everyone packed together and whatnot.”

Joan’s heart fluttered in her chest. She’s never had someone be so worried about her before. Anna genuinely cared about how she was feeling.

“I’m okay,” She answered. “It’s a lot, though. I’ve never been to a place like this before. It’s amazing.”

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Jane put in.

Joan nodded. “I hope I’m doing okay. Again, this isn’t really my crowd, you know?”

“You’re doing great.” Anna told her. “Trust me.”

“Joan?” A voice called.

George leapt to his feet instantly and dragged Jane with him to go visit with another table, saluting Anna and Joan as he careened away. The remaining duo blinked, then realized what he was fleeing from.

It was Miss Aragon.

The gym coach appeared from the crowd in glistening swathes of gold, like an angel descending from heaven. Her dark brown hair was elegantly curled, framing her makeup-covered face perfectly. The dress she wore was smooth, with no wrinkles or frills, and had short sleeves so her muscles could be revealed to wandering eyes. A black pendant hung around her strong neck, glinting like polished onyx in the light.

“Oh, Miss Aragon!” A smile came to Joan’s face the moment she saw her favorite teacher. “You look incredible!”

“Thank you.” Miss Aragon said. “You look beautiful.”

Joan ducked her head humbly. “That’s very nice of you,” She said. “I know it isn’t true, but thank you anyway.”

Miss Aragon and Anna both ruffled slightly at that.

“Don’t be modest,” Miss Aragon said. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Joan blushed. “Thank you… Really, thank you.”

“Hey, Miss Aragon!” Anna said to the coach.

“Anna.”

Joan blinked and glanced back and forth between the two of them. Why did Miss Aragon look so threatening? Why did Anna look slightly nervous? Was there something going on that she didn’t know?

“You guys want some punch?” Anna said briskly, standing up. She smoothed out her tux and straightened her flower crown. “I heard Henry and Francis spiked it.” She snickered.

“Oh no,” Joan said in a woebegone voice. “Isn’t it dangerous to drink spikes? What if someone chokes?”

“Really?” Miss Aragon said to Anna at the same time.

Anna laughed, then noticed Miss Aragon’s unamused, deadpan expression. She stopped instantly.

“Uh-- No.” She said. “I’m joking.”

Miss Aragon’s expression did not change. Anna cleared her throat, then sidled off towards the food temples. Miss Aragon rolled her eyes and sat down next to Joan.

“So,” Miss Aragon smiled at her. “Is it everything you dreamed?”

“It’s nice.” Joan said.

Miss Aragon laughed. “Just nice?”

“It’s like being on Mars,” Joan admitted. “Now that I’m here, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”

“I remember my prom,” Miss Aragon mused. Joan tipped her head in interest. “I went with the captain of the basketball team. She was six foot seven inches tall!” They both laughed. “So, I went out and bought a pair of these Stiletto heels so the kiss goodnight would be less awkward. Anyway, we went in her pickup truck, which of course broke down, so we had to walk the last half mile to the prom.”

“Oh no!” Joan gasped.

“By the time we finally got there, my feet were so blistered that all I could do was just sit there. I was sure I ruined the night, I couldn’t dance, but you know what? We just sat there and talked for hours. And it turned out to be one of the best nights of my entire life.”

“Wow,” Joan said. “I’m so happy for you, Miss Aragon! I’m sorry you couldn’t dance, though.”

“Could have been worse,” Miss Aragon shrugged. “There was this one girl whose boyfriend brought a toy gun so he could pose like James Bond in the picture.”

“Oh,” Joan giggled, despite not knowing who James Bond was. “He sounds like fun.”

“Yeah,” Miss Aragon nodded. “He was arrested.”

Joan stopped giggling instantly. Miss Aragon chuckled.

“But it’s okay.” Miss Aragon said. “It’s just a dance. Not that special.”

Joan nodded. Her gaze began to slide back to the party around them, to the mass of writhing limbs that was the dance floor. Mostly everyone was dancing or talking, but she spotted a few people staring over at her and whispering to each other. Some glanced away when she noticed, pretending they weren’t gossiping about her, while others didn’t even try to make it seem like they weren’t talking behind her back. She turned her head towards them fully, unable to look away, and felt fear and shame bubbling back up inside of her.

(Mama was right Mama was right Mama was right Mama was right)

Miss Aragon smothered those thoughts for her.

“Are you excited for summer?” Her coach asked. Joan turned her head back to her, successfully pulling her attention away. “Then you’ll be in Year 12. One grade closer until graduation!”

“I don’t know,” Joan admitted. “Graduation makes me nervous. I don’t even know what I want to study.”

“That’s understandable,” Miss Aragon said, nodding. “I couldn’t wait to graduate.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Miss Aragon said. “I hated high school.”

“Oh, god.” Joan leaned in. “I do, too. I know you’re not supposed to say that, but I do. I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Preach it to the choir.” Miss Aragon said. “No offense.”

Joan smiled slightly. Miss Aragon took one of her hands and stroked the knuckles with her thumb.

“Just remember,” She said. “Nothing that has happened will matter after graduation. Nothing. Except, you know, things like good grades and studying. You take what you want and leave the rest behind. You don’t even have to see any of these people again if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” Miss Aragon said. “Oh, but I highly recommend the ten year reunion.”

“Why?” Joan asked eagerly.

“Everybody’s different. People will say, ‘Oh my god, so-and-so hasn’t changed a bit,’ but they’re LYING.” Miss Aragon told her, a devilish smirk twitching on her lips. “Everybody changes. And not always for the better.” She scanned the crowd, her smirk curving fully. She leaned into Joan, subtly nodding towards a trio of girls in insanely expensive dresses. “Like, those girls over there? Right now, they’re at their peak. They will never be more pretty or more popular, and in ten years, they’ll be fat.” She snickered. “And the fat girls, some of them will be thin, and the cute boys will be bald. The jocks will have beer bellies-- it’s fantastic!”

Joan dissolved into giggles and had to cover her mouth.

“And the ones who were miserable?”

Joan stopped giggling. She watched Miss Aragon nervously. Her hand was squeezed comfortingly.

“They turn out just fine.”

A grin came to Joan’s lips and she didn’t try to stamp it down.

(i’m okay i’ll be okay)

“They do,” Miss Aragon said, squeezing Joan’s hand again. “So enjoy yourself, and try not to take it too seriously. Everything is going to be okay.”

Joan vaulted into Miss Aragon’s arms, unable to hold herself back. Miss Aragon chuckled and hugged her back, cupping the back of her head to her chest with one hand and rubbing up and down her spine with the other.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Miss Aragon told her.

“Woah,” A voice said. “I better not catch you hugging any other girls like that!”

Joan and Miss Aragon parted as Anna set two cups on the table, grinning.

“Have a good talk?”

“Uh huh,” Joan nodded.

“We did.” Miss Aragon said. “And on that note- Anna. Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Sure.” Anna said, sounding slightly guarded.

Miss Aragon smiled at Joan and kissed the top of her head before standing up. She took Anna by the arm and guided her away, far out of earshot from Joan.

“Having fun?” Miss Aragon asked. Her voice wasn’t nearly as loud as the blasting music, but the biting words still cut smoothly through all the noise.

“Yeah,” Anna nodded. “Yeah, I am. I think Joan is having fun, too. She’s making a lot of progress!” She looked over her shoulder for a moment, seeing that Joan was pulled over to one of the desert tables by Jane and George. George put some whipped cream on a brownie, then handed it to Joan, who observed the canister seriously for a moment and then promptly sprayed herself in the face. She dropped the can with an alarmed screech and tottered backwards as laughter erupted around her. She was laughing, too.

“That’s good,” Miss Aragon said, smiling fondly at Joan as she was trying to wipe her face off. “I just thought you should know,” She turned her smile to Anna, “that if you show Joan anything less than the time of her life, I will personally see to it that you are expelled.”

Anna gaped at her, mouth hanging open slightly. All the color drained from her face. Miss Aragon narrowed her eyes dangerously, leaning in.

“Do you understand the words that just came out of my mouth?”

Anna swallowed hard and nodded. Miss Aragon smiled again.

“Very good.” The coach said, pleased. “Now go get back to her.” She caught Anna’s arm when she tried to walk away. “Oh, and wait for a slow song to dance with her to. She’ll look stupid dancing to anything fast.”

Anna nodded again and was released. She scampered back over to the table, glancing over her shoulder at the coach as she went.

“Everything okay?” Joan asked as Anna sat back down.

“Yeah!” Anna answered. “Yeah, don’t worry.” She looked up as a slower song by Billie Eilish began to play. “You wanna dance?”

“No.” Joan said instantly.

“Oh--” Anna blinked. “Alright.”

“Sorry…” Joan hunched her shoulders in. “Maybe later. But not right now, please? I still wanna get settled in completely.”

“Yeah, of course,” Anna said. “We can just talk, alright?”

“I like that idea.”

“So…” Anna shifted in her seat slightly. She looked Joan over, then plunged into a question she really hoped wouldn’t upset her date (and make her have to retake Year 13 when Miss Aragon found out), “If I may...how’d you get those scars on your hands?”

“Ah--” Joan coiled her scarred hands into her cowl, looking embarrassed. “Um-- It’s really stupid…”

“No, no, no--” Anna caught her before she could tuck herself back into the shell she was just starting to come out of. “Hey, why don’t I tell you one of my dumb scar stories?”

Joan looked up at her in interest.

“Okay, so--” Anna looked around like she was making sure no one was around, despite there being dozens of people all around them. “I have this little hole in my lower stomach because when I was eight, I put a pencil in my pants and it stabbed me when I went to pee.”

Joan instantly burst out into laughter. It was such a pleasant sound to hear coming out of her, slightly high pitched and adorable.

“Really?” She sputtered out.

“I swear to god!” Anna said, laughing with her. “You can’t really see it anymore, but you can feel the indent of where the hole is. I also have this bad boy,” She rolled her left pant leg up enough to reveal a giant, faded burn scar on her inner thigh. Joan ogled it.

“What happened?” The younger girl gaped.

“When I was 13, me, my younger sister, and my cousin were riding around in a golf cart. My cousin was driving, and he ended up turning in a cul-de-sac way too fast, flipping the entire golf cart on my side. I hit the asphalt and, since I was sitting next to my cousin in the front, that whole loaf fell onto me, breaking his fall and letting him come out completely unscathed. I, however, got this burn.”

“Wow…” Joan murmured. “Were you scared?”

“At the time, oh yeah,” Anna said. “My sister wasn’t moving at all. I thought she was dead. So we got a helicopter air lift to the hospital. That was pretty neat!”

“You aren’t...ashamed of it?” Joan asked softly. “Your scar?”

“I used to be,” Anna admitted. “But it’s a part of me, you know? It’ll only look worse if I try to get rid of it. Besides, it looks pretty cool, and it's not like anyone sees it that often anyway. It’s always too cold to wear shorts.”

Joan nodded. She unconsciously traced one of the webs of scar tissue lacing across her left hand. She looked up at Anna with courage in her eyes.

“I stuck my hands in fire.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Joan nodded. “I found a picture of my father and my Mama threw it into the fire. I tried to grab it and burned myself pretty badly in the process.” She splayed her hands open, revealing the entire spider web of burns to Anna’s eyes. They were white than her already-porcelain skin, like someone had tried to paint over them. “They used to look really bad. All red and peeling a lot. But they’re gotten better, I think.” She rubbed her rough palms together.

“Wow.” Anna said. “That’s pretty metal.”

Joan looked at her strangely. “They’re not metal? This is skin.” She looked down at the scars.

Anna laughed.

“So… Did you know him?”

“Hm?” Joan looked back up at her.

“Your father.” Anna clarified. “If I may. Did you know him?”

Joan shook her head. “No. He left when I was just a baby.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I have his eyes.”

“Oh,” Anna said. “I mean, I’m glad the rumors aren’t true. Not that him leaving is a good thing, it absolutely isn’t, but it’s better than people saying--”

“My Mama killed him?” Joan finished. She looked up at Anna thoughtfully. “I don’t think she did. But you still never know…” She shook her head and rubbed her palms against her dress. “Can we--go outside?”

“Need some air?” Anna asked.

“Yeah,” Beads of sweat were welling up on the crown of Joan’s head. “It’s getting kinda hot in here.”

“Come on.”

The two of them slipped out of the prom through the door that fed into the rest of the school. It was much cooler in that hallway and much quieter, with only dim storm lights turned on overhead. They walked a few paces down until they got to the entrance hall. They sat down on the huge main staircase.

“Are you okay?” Anna asked, gently touching Joan’s arm. There was worry in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Joan answered, nodding. “Trust me. I just need to get away from all that noise for a moment.”

“Gotcha.” Anna said. “It was getting pretty wild in there.”

Joan nodded again. She was staring forward, looking out the huge windows all along the entrance way of the school. The sky was completely black now, even with the layer of clouds, and sheets of drizzling rain could be seen sparkling in the outside lights.

“So…” Anna said, hoping to ease back into some small talk. “What do you want to study in college? I know you’re only in Year 11, but I’m curious.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Joan shrugged. “Is sewing an option?”

Anna laughed slightly. “I’m not sure.”

“What about you?”

“Something with agriculture,” Anna told her. “I kinda wanna be a game warden. I like animals. A park ranger would be cool, too. I could get an entire tower all to myself!”

“That sounds scary.” Joan said. “Being all alone in a tower in the middle of the woods...”

“Don’t put it like that! You’ll crush my dreams!” Anna teased. “I actually thought about being a singer at one point, too. Can you believe that?” She snorted and shook her head.

“A singer?” Joan echoed. “Can you sing?”

“I like to think I can.”

“Can you show me?”

Anna blinked, slightly shy. “Right now?”

Joan nodded eagerly.

“What would I sing?”

“Your poem!”

“What?”

“Your poem, silly.” Joan said again. “It’s basically a song, you know. Just give it a rhythm!”

“Oh.” Anna blinked. “Right. Okay.” She cleared her throat meaningfully. “Let’s see…

An eagle's just another bird

Until he can spread his wings

A river's just a sheet of ice

Till winter turns to spring,”

Her voice came out husky and smooth, like molten caramel. Each word flicked languidly off of her tongue, dripping easily into open ears. Joan watched her in amazement and great interest and then, shockingly, began to sing the next few stanzas.

“And though the clouds may block the sun

Don't mean that it's left the sky,”

Joan’s voice was soft and slightly raspy, but higher pitched and easy on the ears. It was light and airy and pronounced each word with silky gentleness. Anna was so startled from hearing it that she faltered for a moment. Joan giggled at her bewildered expression.

“What?” She asked.

“You sing beautifully.” Anna blurted.

Joan blushed. “Thank you. I hope you don’t mind. Your poem was just so amazing that I sorta kinda memorized it… Sorry.”

Anna blinked at her in amazement. Nobody had ever been so interested in any of her writing pieces before, not even Katherine.

“No, no it’s okay!” She said quickly. “That’s so cool. That you like it that much. It means a lot to me.”

Joan smiled. “I’m glad.” She said. “Now, what was the next part?”

“Umm… Oh!” Anna cleared her throat again, then began singing once more,

“Just when you think you've seen it all

There's more than meets the eye,”

“Like, things I dream,”

“And things I feel,”

“There’s more to me,”

“Than I reveal,” The harmony they pulled off together was like nothing Anna had ever heard before. Her deep alto and Joan’s light soprano mixed together beautifully, sounding like liquid sugar in their ears.

“And cause I shine in quiet ways

I'm someone you don't recognize,” Joan sang, a smile twitching on her lips.

“I’m a diamond in the rough

A dreamer in disguise…”

They finished in another chilling harmony. Joan beamed at Anna. Anna smiled back at her brightly.

“That...was incredible.” Anna breathed.

“I know!” Joan exclaimed gleefully. “We sounded SO GOOD! I didn’t even know I could sing like that!”

Anna had never seen her so energetic before. Even Joan never felt this way before, so happy and at ease. She must have come out of her shell a lot more than she thought.

“You’re great, Joan.” Anna said. “We should really hang out more often! Are you free tomorrow by any chance? Katherine, George, Jane, and I were going to have an after party at my house. We have a pool!”

Joan looked absolutely thrilled to be invited. “I would love to go.” She said, eyes glowing. “Do you really mean it, Anna?”

“Of course!” Anna said. “We were also going to watch a few movies, too. Have you ever seen Star Wars?”

“No.”

Anna gaped at her in shock. “Really? You’ve never seen a single Star Wars movie before?”

“We don’t have a TV at my house.” Joan admitted. “What is Star Wars? Is it, like, World War I in outer space?”

Anna burst into laughter. Joan blinked at her in a delighted way.

“Now I REALLY have to show you!” Anna said, wiping an eye. “It’s a date!”

“Yeah,” Joan said excitedly.

They hung out on the main staircase for a little bit longer, discussing plans for the next day and Anna giving Joan permission to wear one of her bathing suits (since she didn’t have her own), then ventured back into the prom.

“I still can’t get over how pretty it is,” Joan said as they walked past a sculpture shaped like temple ruins. “It’s like a dream. A perfect dream.”

The plants were one her favorite parts by far. All around her there were glorious purple exploding star-shaped flowers, delicate pale orange orchids, clusters of petals the color of bananas, odd little orbs in ruby red and sapphire blue. Hanging moss and trailing vines and reaching willow were like curtain doorways to new parts of the prom in all shades of emerald green. And then, there was the tree glowing brightly among all the greenery.

It was so much more beautiful up close. Joan could see all the little details in the pure white trunk, which must have taken forever to get just right. The globes hanging from the branches were the same icy blue as her eyes, she realized, and she blinked at them in wonder. Was the color really that beautiful?

Looking closer, she noticed something in the hollow of the closest globe. A rolled up piece of paper! In fact, several of the globes had one or more, folded or rolled up to sit inside. There was also a small brown table next to the tree with pens and pieces of paper for anyone who wanted to write something. George was currently doing just that, looking very dutiful as he did so, while Jane waited by his side. She noticed Joan and Anna and perked up.

“There you guys are!” She said. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Sorry,” Anna said. “We just went out to get some air. What are you guys doing?”

“Making wishes,” Jane told her. “That’s what the tree is about. You’re supposed to write a wish or desire on a piece of paper and then put it into one of the fruit things.”

“So the decoration committee can laugh at you when they read all of them after prom,” George added as he was writing. “So don’t mark your name. And hope your handwriting doesn’t get recognized.”

“Wanna write one?” Jane asked.

Anna nodded, then nudged Joan questioningly.

“Sure,” Joan said.

They went over to the table George was hunched over at and each took a pen and piece of paper. Anna thought for just a moment, then began writing something, while Joan hesitated a little bit longer.

She had so many wishes that she thought about all the time. Being adopted into a nicer family, Mama loving her like a normal mother would, having friends, finding her father, getting a kitten… There were so many things to put down, and so little room, so, after a moment of deciding, she wrote, “I wish to always be happy like I am now.”

She rolled her paper up like a scroll and tucked it into an empty globe. Jane did the same, then Anna, and then, finally, George.

“So, what did you guys wish for?” George asked as they walked back over to their table. “Because I wished for something practical. Money.”

“I should have known,” Jane chuckled. “I wished for an easy, hopefully painless transition into college after summer is over.”

“Eternal love,” Anna said.

“A pet cat,” Joan lied, feeling too sappy to say her actual one.

“That’s a good wish, that’s a good wish,” George nodded in approval.

The four of them began to chat for several minutes, discussing summer plans and swapping funny stories. Joan didn’t have much to share, seeing as her life wasn’t exactly very easy to bring up in a lighthearted conversation, but Anna, Jane, and George each made sure she was included. She was perfectly happy with just listening quietly, but actually getting to partake in the talk felt like an honor she didn’t deserve.

“What about you, Joan?” George had been asking. “Got any embarrassing secrets?”

Joan thought for a moment, sifting out several way-too-dark things to share.

“I can’t swim,” She finally admitted.

“Woah, really?” George said. “I thought everyone learned how to swim.”

“Where? In school?” Anna snorted. She turned her head to Joan, eyebrows furrowed. “I guess that makes tomorrow’s pool party a little unfortunate, huh?”

“I still wanna come.” Joan said quickly, afraid the opportunity will be taken from her. “I agreed regardless, didn’t I? And I’ll be okay. I just had a bad experience with water one time, that’s all. It’s been years, anyway.”

(the tepid water and her wrinkled fingertips marked the end of her bubble bath. Mama just checked on her, but her patience had doubled since then. she called for Mama to help her out of the tub, but Mama did not respond. she tried twice more but she heard no returning calls. she decided that she did not really need Mama’s help; she was five and a big girl.

the slippery acrylic tub and her misplaced feet resulted in her arm roughly slicing on the sharp faucet. a metallic and unknown smell engulfed her. all she saw was red, just like candy apples. so much red falling from her arm and coloring the bathwater. unexplainable fear and pain overcame her. she started to cry and within seconds, Mama was standing at the door.

she had always been beautiful, but the flour smeared on her face and the stress lines present on her features did not do much for her. the sheer horror on her expression scared her further and transformed weak cries into wailing screams. Mama appeared white as a sheet as they stared at each other, motionless. the tub water was noticeably darker when she started to feel a painful sensation shooting down her arm. in a flash, Mama was carrying her onto the sink counter, swaddling her in a towel that turned crimson red almost instantly. Mama was wearing her special apron and bore a grim look on her face.

Mama left for just a moment, then returned with something gleaming.

there was no warning given before Mama started putting a needle and thread through her skin. it reminded her of sewing a dress together. she can only feel a light tugging, but it did not quiet her cries. Mama finally cut the thread after what felt like forever. the cuddles she got after that were like angel hugs. she thought she should hurt herself more often.)

“What happened?” George asked with great interest. Jane lightly whacked his arm.

“Don’t be pushy.” She chided him, then looked at Joan. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, hun.”

The pet name sent flickers of pink flames glowing on Joan’s ears. Her heart fluttered wildly inside of her chest, like a butterfly flapping its wings for the first time.

“Well--”

(the shower. the blood in the water like when she was five. her blood. girls all around her laughing, throwing things, humiliating her.)

“I was twelve, and I snuck away from home to this Christian summer camp because I wanted to make some friends,” She said. “That, of course, went south, and all the kids participated in a game where they would dunk me in the pool until I started drowning.”

Silence filled the table. Joan instantly felt guilty and lowered her head.

“Sorry…” She mumbled. “I-I shouldn’t have…”

“I’m so sorry, Joan.” Jane looked sympathetic and concerned. “That sounds awful.”

“Those kids are awful.” George corrected her. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Me too.” Anna nodded. She gently took one of Joan’s hands and squeezed it. “That’ll never happen ever again, I promise.”

Joan smiled at her. “Thank you.” She wanted to dive into Anna’s honey brown eyes and catch the reflected flames in there. She wanted to tell her and George and Jane how much this meant to her.

Suddenly, Anna’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, but kept her other hand holding Joan’s.

“Oh, it’s Kat!” She said to the other three. “She’s asking how the night is going.”

“Amazing!” George declared. “Really amazing! Isn’t this prom the GREATEST?”

Jane tipped her head at him and smiled, and Joan realized that THAT was what it looked like when someone was in love.

“It is amazing,” Jane agreed.

“Yeah,” Joan nodded.

“I’m gonna send a picture to her,” Anna said. “Come on, guys! Everyone get in!”

They all huddled together, even Joan, who got snugly sandwiched between Anna and Jane. Anna snapped a picture and then sent it to Katherine, along with a quick text telling her how things were going. By the time she finished, the music had changed into a slow, soothing song, and couples began to group together on the dance floor, including Jane and George.

“Oh--” Anna looked up with a smile. “It’s a slow song, Joan.”

Joan froze, her eyes widening. She began shaking her head, but Anna was already standing up and gently taking her hands. She pulled them back quickly.

“No, Anna, I can't--” Joan stammered nervously. She glanced at all the couples dancing, noting how smoothly they moved, and couldn’t possibly imagine herself swaying among them. She would be much too clumsy. “I’ve never danced before.”

“That’s okay,” Anna said dismissively.

“No, no, Anna--” Joan’s fear was mounting. This was where everything went wrong, this was where things got messed up, this was where her perfect night fell apart--

“Hey.” Anna knelt down in front of her. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just one little dance, and all we do is hold each other and sway. Just like everyone else is doing.”

Joan glanced at the dancers again. It didn’t look too hard…

“B-but what if--”

“Shh,” Anna carefully adjusted Joan’s flower crown so it would be straight again. “Everything is alright, Joan. Nothing bad will happen. Remember: if anyone laughs, I kick their ass.”

That got a tiny smile from Joan. Anna smiled back and lifted Joan to her feet, guiding her onto the dance floor.

“Okay, so you’re going to grab my hand like this. See?” Their right hands clasped together in the air. “And then set the other one on my shoulder.” Joan’s left hand rested on Anna’s shoulder, while Anna’s gently cupped her waist. “And then we sway…” They swayed. “See? It’s easy. You’re a natural!”

Joan smiled shyly up at Anna. She glanced around them, and realized mainly everyone was too absorbed in their partners to notice she was dancing with them.

“And...if you wanna get fancy with it…” Anna smirked. “We can do the Dancing With The Stars move.”

Joan had no idea what that was, but it still sent lightning bolts of anxiety shooting through her.

“N-no, Anna, no, I can’t--”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Anna hushed her gently. “Just trust me.” And then she stepped back slightly and spun around slowly so her arm would be draped across her torso and Joan would be pressed against her chest. Joan looked up at her with a mix between an amazed and deer-in-headlights look. “See? Easy! Wasn’t that fun?”

Joan nodded wordlessly, lost in her wonder. Her icy blue eyes were sparkling like starlight twinkling on fresh snow. Anna gently uncoiled her and they got back into position.

“You’re a good learner.” Anna told her partner.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered, ducking her head. “Can I spin you?”

Anna laughed. “Sure.”

Joan spun Anna, but ended up twisting their arms quite painfully before the full rotation could be complete, so they had to break away and come back together with unknotted muscles. They both laughed.

“Good first try!” Anna said.

Joan giggled.

A serene silence fell between the two of them as the music went on. They swayed together like a white and pink boat drifting on the quiet waves of the ocean at night. The rhythm they rocked to was conducted by years worth of longing and desire from Joan’s part, and now it was all blooming before her. Everything she’s ever wanted was happening. Friends, a fun night away from home, people who actually give a damn about her… She could feel tears of joy pricking in her eyes and she quickly blinked them back.

“Do you really have to be home by eleven?”

Anna’s voice, smooth and caring and not a bit cruel, cut though the singing playing from the large speakers set up. Joan looked up at her. It felt like she had just woken up from a nap, that the music had lulled her into sleep and she slipped away into a blissful dream. But it wasn’t a dream. This was real. The bodies rocking around her and the beautiful decorations and her perfect dress and Anna’s hand in her own--it was all real.

“Yes,” Joan said, processing what Anna had asked her. She frowned. “I’m sorry. I promised.”

“No, that’s okay!” Anna said quickly. “It’s just that after prom, a few of us were going to go to--”

“OKAY.” Joan said, pulling away and hugging her hands in close.

Anna blinked. “Um. What?”

“No, no, if you want to go off with your friends, I understand. I-I-I don’t want to spoil anything.” Joan sputtered out, feeling her heart sink back into the black abyss it had finally climbed out of for the first time in fifteen years.

“What I was going to say was,” Anna said, taking Joan’s hands again and pulling her back against her. She began to sway again. “If you’d like to, after prom, we could stop at the Blazer for awhile.”

Joan blinked. She suddenly felt embarrassed about how she had jumped to conclusions so easily, that just goes to show how much she truly trusted Anna, but Anna didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve never been there.” She said, unsurprisingly. She didn’t go to many places.

“They have the BEST fries!” Anna stated, grinning.

“I’d love to.” Joan said.

“Then it’s decided!”

A smile was starting to come to Joan’s lips, one that felt like it would stay there for the entire night no matter how hard she tried to smother it. After years of vicious bullying and constant teasing and unfriendly looks, she suddenly found herself wrapped in attention and warmth. Anna or Jane or George didn’t hate her or were afraid of her like Mama had said at all. More than that, they seemed to actually like her. They were talking to her and being nice to her and making her laugh, and none of it seemed forced in even the slightest way. They were making her forget, for all these hours, how miserable she had been and how miserable she truly was. The pain was numbed.

For once in her life, for the first time in fifteen years, she truly felt happy.

“Thank you.” Joan whispered, breaking another few peaceful seconds of silence between them.

“What for?” Anna asked, tilting her head slightly.

“For everything.” Joan clarified. “For taking me to prom. For the limo. For being so nice to me.” The tears were coming back, but she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to blink them back this time. “I know you don’t like me like that, and I know it’s only one night, but…” She looked up at Anna, her eyes sparkling. “I’m glad I got to be your date tonight.”

“Me too.” Anna said, taking Joan by surprise.

“R-really?”

For a moment, Anna frowned at her disbelief, but then she shook her head and chuckled slightly.

“Of course,” She said. “I’m having the best time with you.”

“B-but what about Katherine--” Joan stammered, her voice catching in her throat.

“Katherine isn’t here right now,” Anna said, wiping away the tear that rolled down Joan’s left cheek. “Tonight, you’re all that matters to me. I’m going to make sure this is the best night of your life. And the nights and days and everything else after that. You aren’t alone anymore, Joan.”

That’s what broke Joan.

The girl whimpered, bottom lip quivering, and a cascade of sparkling silver tears began pouring down her face. Anna cupped the back of her head and brought it to press into the crook of her neck for security. Joan cried steadily, thanking her over and over again through squeaking sobs.

“How about this?” Anna said when Joan began to quiet down and was able to pull her head back. Her makeup was slightly smeared, but Anna still thought she looked amazing. “We dance for a little longer, see what poor fools get elected as prom king and queen, and then head to the Blazers for a bite to eat. And I’ll have you home by eleven.” She smiled warmly. “How does that sound to you?”

Joan nodded.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Joan squeaked. “Maybe eleven-thirty…”

“Whatever you want.”

“Eleven-thirty.”

Anna smiled even more. “Wonderful.”

They fell into blissful silence as the song began to wrap up. Joan’s eyes were starting to sting, but she didn’t care. She tucked her head underneath Anna’s chin and rested her head on her chest, relaxing. Anna swayed them both gently, acting as a protective barrier that Joan never wanted to be away from.

The song soon ended and the two of them parted. George and Jane bounded over to them, with George grinning his head off and tapping his feet energetically. Jane rolled her eyes at him fondly, then smiled at Joan and Anna.

“I saw you guys dancing,” She said. “You were really good for your first time! This one,” She jerked her head at George, “tripped on MY FEET and dragged me to the ground when he fell the first time we danced together.”

Anna and Joan laughed. George was not fazed by his girlfriend spilling embarrassing things about him. In fact, he seemed a little proud.

“It’s going to be funny to tell our kids one day!” He said.

“Oh, you,” Jane rolled her eyes again and poked his nose. “Oh, Joan. Your makeup smeared.”

Joan blinked and lifted a hand to her face. “Oh dear,” She murmured in dismay.

“Not to worry!” Jane waved a hand. “I have some makeup in my car. I can help you fix it.”

“Really?” Joan said. “Thank you.”

“No problem, lovely!” Jane said. She gently took Joan by the arm. “Anna, I’m going to borrow your girl for a moment. George, don’t do anything dumb.”

“Yes sir!” George beamed. When Jane and Joan whisked through the crowd and out into the parking lot, he sighed lovingly, “I love her so much…”

Anna laughed and patted his back. “I can tell!”

Meanwhile, in Jane Parker’s blue Hummer, Jane was dutifully applying fresh makeup onto Joan’s youthful face and thinking back to some of the things she overheard Anne Boleyn saying about her when she was over at the Boleyn residence to hang out with George. The young girl before her didn’t look ugly at all, despite what Anne had said, nor did she look like a freak. Her eyes may be a strange color, but they were the most beautiful shade of blue Jane had ever seen before.

Jane suspected that, deep down, Joan actually enjoyed the kind of pampering she was giving her in the car, despite the distrust in her eyes as Jane drew near with a mascara wand. Not that she needed anything more, but still. Little Miss Five Minute Skincare had obviously missed out on a lot of the girly stuff that had saturated Jane’s existence since birth.

It made sense, though. From the rumors she heard and from everything Anne griped about, she didn’t have a normal upbringing like most people should have. Something much darker lurked beneath those silly stories.

Something terrible has happened to this girl.

And, judging by the “hideous” hand-made flannels Joan apparently wore quite often to school, her mother hadn't been much of a fashion mentor either.

Once Jane had achieved the smoky eye effect she wanted, she applied some gloss to Joan’s lips. The girl had quite an amazing tone to her mouth. Pity it was drooped in a sullen pout at that moment.

Jane leaned back to admire her handwork.

“Well?” She adjusted the rear view mirror down so Joan could see her reflection. “How does it look?”

“Pretty…” Joan murmured. “But it feels like I have dirt on my face.” She pouted adorably again.

Jane laughed. “Makeup has that effect, unfortunately.” She said. “But you look lovely. Now, come on, let’s get back inside.”

They journeyed back into the prom, chatting idly as they went. Joan was smiling again, but her hands kept twitching like she wanted to rub her eyes. This was probably the first time she’s ever worn mascara, Jane realized.

“Wow,” Anna murmured breathlessly when Jane and Joan got back to their table. Even George looked a little starstruck at the newer, better makeup applied to Joan’s face.

“Do I look alright?” Joan asked shyly.

“Better than alright!” George said.

“You look beautiful.” Anna added. “Gorgeous.”

Joan blushed bright red. “I’m glad.” She said. “Because this black stuff is making my eyes sticky. And itchy.”

“That’s mascara, sweetheart.” Jane corrected her.

“It’s AWFUL.” Joan said. “Do girls wearing makeup always have to feel this? How do they do that? I’d rather pluck all my eyelashes out!”

Jane, Anna, and George laugh. After a moment, Joan joined them, giggling.

“I’m going to go grab a drink,” Anna said, parting from the group and going over to the bufett temples.

“Excuse me?”

Anna spun around and found herself facing a young woman, maybe a Year 12 or Year 13, with tassels of red hair and striking smoky grey eyes. Her dress was scarlet, accenting her hair perfectly.

“Sorry,” She said, smiling slightly, “I just had to ask before I made a fool of myself. Are you two a couple?” She nodded in Joan’s direction.

“What? No!” Anna barked. The laugh came out more harshly-sounding than she meant, making her instantly guilty. But she was right- she wouldn’t date Joan. She was too young for one, and for another, she was already with Katherine.

The redhead was devouring Joan as the girl giggled over something George was saying, effortlessly adorable.

“No, we’re not a couple,” Anna found herself repeating as the redhead purred her appreciation. “But Joan” Anna couldn't resist. She really wanted Joan to open up to new people. “…Joan’s a total stud.”

God, that felt a lot weirder to say than she expected. She did NOT like that.

“Really?” The redhead’s gaze shot to Anna’s face and then back to her object of attraction. “Joan?” She teased the name with her tongue. “God, she's cute. Do you think I have a chance?”

Anna shrugged and sipped her drink to stifle a giggle. To be honest, she didn’t actually know. She had never ever seen Joan with anyone romantically before, making her believe she was a raging asexual or mother-superior-in-training.

The reality was that Joan was left tongue-tied by male and female nudity alike. Two years into high school gym, and Anne would say she STILL averted her eyes when changing out with other girls in the locker room. She was just hopelessly shy when it came to all matters sex-related.

“She may play hard-to-get.” Anna finally said.

“Ah,” The redhead nodded slowly. She chuckled. “Thank you.” Then, like that, she glided back off into the mass of writhing limbs that was the prom. Anna respectfully waited ten seconds after she left to snort her laughter.

“You’ve got some fans, Jo,” She said, walking back over her friends.

“What?” Joan blinked up at her innocently.

“I think someone has a crush on you.”

Joan’s face flamed red instantly. She stammered on a reply, but all her words came out squeaking.

“O-oh.” She choked. “Nice?”

Anna chuckled and patted her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it was nothing. And you can always say no.”

Joan nodded. A second later, the music switched to an upbeat Lady Gaga song. George began to bound excitedly.

“Oh, I LOVE this song!!” He yelled. “Let’s dance!”

Anna glanced at Joan, who appeared to be a little more confident at dancing. They all moved to an emptier spot on the dance floor and began to dance.

“Come on, Joan!” Jane encouraged, noticing that Joan was just bobbing her head to the beat of the song. “Shake that bony white ass!”

Joan was flabbergasted at that, but was motivated to get a little more into the song. Anna, Jane, and George all clapped and cheered for her as she did so.

Unbeknownst to them, Maggie watched on with Bessie at her side. Bessie’s amethyst purple dress went with her bleached white hair surprisingly well, but Maggie wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not, seeing as Bessie’s head was filled with quite a few moths. Anthony was somewhere in the crowd near the food temples, lost in the cluster of black tuxedos so much like his own, fetching drinks like Maggie had asked.

“God, just look at them.” Maggie sneered in disgust, watching Joan dance like an idiot and Anna, Anne’s younger brother, and Anne’s younger brother’s girlfriend actually make it seem like they liked her. “Couldn’t you just vomit?”

“I can’t believe Anne is missing this.” Bessie said, wide-eyed. Maggie definitely saw flickers of longing and jealousy in her dark brown eyes; she wasn’t exactly very subtle with her big gay crush on Anna von Cleves.

“Trust me, doll,” Maggie said dismissively. She shot a smirk at the stage. “She isn’t missing a thing.”

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jbbarnesnnoble · 5 years ago

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Vulnerability and Other Things (Part Two)

Chapter Title: Dancing with Your Best Foot Forward

Summary: You’re the newest Avenger still trying to figure out where you fit in and determined to prove yourself, no matter how many times people tell you you don’t need to. Balancing your pre-Avenger life with your new life is a challenge, one that is threatening to fall apart.

Features: Angst; unhealthy relationship

Pairing: Reader/Original Male Character; eventual Bucky/Natasha/Reader

Notes: The Reader/OMC relationship is going to be unhealthy. If that’s triggering in any way, skip this story!

We meet Danny in person this chapter, and learn a bit more about their relationship.

Word Count: 1801

Part One

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The lunch rush was in full swing when you arrived at the little diner. It was a popular spot in town. You spotted Danny as soon as you walked in and headed over to him, sliding in across from him.

“You’re late,” he said, not even bothering to greet you. You frowned.

“I had some things I had to get done before I left for lunch,” you said, looking around for the menu.

“I already ordered for us. Burger for me with the soup, a turkey sandwich and salad for you with water,” he said. You felt annoyance coming to the surface but tried to push it down, not wanting to ruin lunch. You hated that habit of his. It would be endearing if he would choose what you actually wanted instead of what he thought you should be eating. As much as you loved Ruth’s Homestyle Diner, the turkey was always dry because people rarely ordered it. It was a joke among the regulars. The only person you’d ever seen actually enjoy the turkey sandwiches was Bruce Banner.

“Did you at least get it with the fixings?” you asked him as you picked up a bread roll from the basket left on the table and took a bite. He made a face as he watched you.

“The stuffing is way too unhealthy,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“It makes it edible. I would have been fine with a burger. It’s what I wanted when you said you wanted to get lunch here,” you said, irritation showing.

“I’m sorry. I figured you would rather have something light if you were training today. You know greasy food can upset your stomach if you work out after,” he said softly, taking your hand in his. You sighed.

“I worked out this morning. It’s what I was doing when you called. My schedule got rearranged today. We have a mission brief and then we head out tomorrow,” you said, taking a sip of the water sitting on the table as your salad was set down. You refrained from allowing your face to twist in disgust when you realized it wasn’t a salad you liked.

“But I thought we were hanging out tonight,” he said.

“I found out this morning. I was going to tell you when you called me earlier, but you didn’t let me finish what I was saying before you hung up. I’ll be gone for a few days at the least, maybe more. I won’t be able to call or text you. I won’t have my phone on me,” you said.

“What? You’ve always been allowed to contact me on missions. Babe, you can’t leave your phone,” he said. There was an edge of desperation in his voice.

“I’ve never been on a mission that requires this level of stealth. They’re starting to give me more responsibility an--,” you started to say before he interjected.

“And you’re going to tell them thank you but you’re okay with the amount of work they’re giving you? Honey, if you’re going on a mission where you can’t call me to say goodnight, it’s too dangerous,” he said. Anger flared.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Daniel, but my entire existence is dangerous. You can’t just say no, I’m not going on a mission. It doesn’t work like that. I know you’re worried, but I’ve got the best team with me. It’ll be fine,” you said.

“I just...I worry about you. You’ve only been doing this hero thing a few months with them. It’s not like you’re dealing with petty crimes,” he said. Your expression softened.

“Danny, it’s my job. You knew this when I took the position,” you said. He squeezed your hand, a little too tight if you were being honest.

“And I tried to tell you when you took it not to. Look at the toll it’s taking on us, on our relationship. I barely see you anymore,” he said. You stifled a laugh.

“Danny, we talk every day and we see each other at least four days a week,” you said.

“Yeah, but we used to see each other every day. And now you’re saying I might not see or talk to you for at least a few days? What if something happens?” he asked.

“Someone will tell you, I promise. This is important. I love you and I need you to trust me when it comes to my job. This is part of the package that comes with dating me now. I know it's not what you signed up for when we started dating,” you said.

“I’m sorry, I’m just being, I’m being overbearing,” he said. The two of you changed subjects to something lighter, avoiding what had become the elephant in the room.

As the two of you parted ways at the diner, Danny pulled you into a kiss. When the two of you parted, you whispered that you loved him, heading for your car.

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When you got back to the compound, you headed for the briefing room, arriving at the same time as Bucky and Nat. Sam was already there. The only person missing was Steve.

“I thought you were supposed to be taking it easy,” Sam said.

“So did I. But, FRIDAY told me my schedule changed this morning,” you said as you sat down in your usual seat.

“Is that why you were working out this morning?” Bucky asked. You laughed.

“No, I was working out this morning because I’m stubborn and if anyone tells me to take it easy when I feel fine, I’m just not going to listen,” you said. You heard an exasperated sigh from the doorway and looked up to see Steve.

“I argued that you shouldn’t be sent on this mission, but the point was made that your skillset would make it a lot easier. I still think you should be resting. And don’t think I don’t know you were in the gym this morning,” Steve said, giving you a pointed look. You just groaned and threw your hands up.

“You’d almost think I wasn’t an adult capable of making decisions,” you grumbled, drawing a laugh from everyone except Steve, who just had a small smile on his face as he shook his head.

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It had been a few days since the mission started. You were close to wrapping it up and so far, things had gone off without a hitch. That was, until you and Nat were destroying the lab and grabbing what you had been sent to get. You were taken by surprise, thrown back through the glass of one of the walls in the lab. You could feel the blood trickling down your face as you got back up. Natasha was calling for backup as the two of you went hand to hand with the new combatants that had entered the room.

By the time the last of them were dealt with, the adrenaline of the fight had started to wear off and you were well aware of the pain setting in. The next thing you knew, you were collapsing onto the ground, the pain too much. The last thing you thought before going unconscious was that Steve was really going to tear into you for this one.

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You woke up while in the air on the quinjet. You moved to sit up, only for someone to push you back down gently.

“Careful, you need to rest,” Natasha said quietly.

“What happened?” you asked, your throat feeling raw and scratchy. She handed you a bottle of water and you took a sip while waiting for her response.

“Your body was trying to deal with the pain as the adrenaline wore off. You’ve been out for about an hour. We handled what we could with your injuries, mostly just stitching up the deeper cuts from when you went through the glass,” she said. You groaned.

“Can’t wait to get lectured by the Captain again,” you grumbled. She laughed lightly and shook her head.

“Not this time. This time you didn’t do something reckless to end up injured,” she said.

“You say reckless, I say “would totally look badass in an action movie”. But, I get your point,” you conceded.

“We’re still about an hour out from the compound. You’re going straight to medical,” she said. You nodded, though it caused a small bit of pain to do so.

“When we get back, can you grab my phone for me from my room? I doubt medical is going to let me go back until tomorrow,” you said. She nodded.

“Sure,” she said. An hour later, you were taken off the jet and wheeled off to medical for more testing on your injuries. Luckily, you didn’t suffer anything worse than a minor sprain that would keep you sidelined for a week.

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Natasha headed to your room to grab your phone as soon as the mission debrief finished. It lit up as she turned it back on, notifications flooding the screen, the majority from someone listed as Danny. She wasn’t trying to snoop, but the last messages that popped up caught her attention.

Danny <3: You said it would be a few days. Call me. I love you.

Danny <3: Baby please call me

Danny <3: You love me right?

Natasha frowned as she scrolled down the notifications, seeing partial messages. She didn’t want to snoop, she didn’t want to invade your privacy, but everything about the messages was setting off alarm bells for her. Whoever Danny was to you, it wasn’t healthy. She was tempted to erase the messages, but knew that would only cause issues, and when you found out, because it would only be a matter of when, not if, your trust in her would be broken.

She knew there wasn’t much she could do. It wasn’t coming from a place of jealousy. If you were seeing someone, it was fine. What wasn’t fine was how frantic the messages got, how manipulative they seemed. She headed for medical and right to you, handing you your phone. She watched as you unlocked it, your smile dropping and your expression changing to one of annoyance and frustration.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah...just...a friend who was worried when they didn’t hear from me for a few days,” you said, the lie slipping out of your mouth. Though, you could argue it wasn’t entirely a lie. Danny had been your friend first, before he was your boyfriend. Natasha had caught a glimpse of the notification bubble on your text app. 547 texts. If just 500 were from him, he had sent at least two an hour, if not more, in the four days you had been away. An uneasy feeling had made itself at home.

#bucky barnes/natasha romanoff/reader #BuckyNat/Reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #buckynat x reader #marvel reader insert #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff/reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #vulnerability and other things

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joysmercer · 6 years ago

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b99 season 6: a timeline

*****ONLY ACCURATE FOR 6x06 AND LATER******

E1 (“HONEYMOON”): Tuesday, 5/15 - Tuesday, 5/29/2018

First day of Jake and Amy’s Holt-less honeymoon – Wednesday, 5/23, which also happens to be the date Jake was originally planning to propose on (x)

E2 (“HITCHCOCK AND SCULLY”): Wednesday, 5/30/2018 E3 (“THE TATTLER”): Thursday, 5/31/2018

E4 (“FOUR MOVEMENTS”): Friday, 6/1 - Friday, 6/22/2018

Jake’s Birthday – sometime between 6/18-6/20

E5 (“A TALE OF TWO BANDITS”): Day 1 – Day 2 2018 (?)

Gas Explosion on Halloween – Wednesday, 10/31/2018

The Santiago’s visit for Thanksgiving – Thursday, 11/22/2018

Secret Santa, hosted by Jake and Amy – around Tuesday, 12/25/2018

The Coldest Night of the Year – Sunday, 1/6/2019

E6 (“THE CRIME SCENE”): Monday, 1/7 – Sunday, 3/10/2019

Amy punches Jake – Wednesday, 2/27/2019

E7 (“HONEYPOT”): Wednesday, 3/13/2019 – Sunday, 3/17/2019 E8 (“HE SAID, SHE SAID”): Monday, 3/18 - Friday, 3/22/2019 E9 (“THE GOLDEN CHILD”): Monday, 3/25 - Wednesday, 3/27/2019 E10 (“GINTARS”): Saturday, 3/30 - Tuesday, 4/2/2019 E11 (“THE THERAPIST”): Monday, 4/8 - Wednesday, 4/10/2019

E12 (“CASECATION”): Friday, 4/19/2019

Waterpark – Saturday, 4/20 - Wednesday, 4/24/2019

E13 (“THE BIMBO”): Thursday, 4/25 - Sunday, 4/28/2019

B-Plot ends – Tuesday, 4/30/2019

E14 (“TICKING CLOCKS”): Wednesday, 5/1/2019 E15 (“RETURN OF THE KING”): Thursday, 5/2 - Saturday, 5/4/2019 E16 (“CINCO DE MAYO”): Sunday, 5/5/2019

E17/18 (“SICKO & SUICIDE SQUAD”): Wednesday, 5/8 – Wednesday, 5/15/2019*

* if 7x01 begins right where 6x18 left off, Season 7 will probably open on Jake and Amy’s actual wedding anniversary. Cheers!

explanations for the dates are under the cut!

Things to keep in mind:

The B/C-plots, for the most part, are not included in the calculation of the times here, because they rarely line up with the A-plot. For example, it’s unlikely that Terry spent more than a few days unable to have enough confidence to make decisions in “Honeymoon,” let alone a few weeks.

I didn’t take weekends into consideration unless otherwise noted. There is a weekend squad, but we know that the regular detectives also sometimes work weekends (enough so that on more than one occasion, Holt has rewarded them with “weekends off”).

Time-stamps within the episode are used as guidelines, but not always as the rule, unless there is a specific number of days given.

Jake’s birthday is somewhere between 5/21 and 6/20, so the one that Gina missed (referenced in “Return of the King”) had to have been the 2018 one, which means that Gina had to be out of the office before 6/24 (the Sunday after 6/20) – hence why the first 4 episodes are all squeezed together.

E1 (“HONEYMOON”): Tuesday, 5/15 - Tuesday, 5/29/2018

The first post-cold-open scene probably happens on Thursday, 5/17: Gina says that Holt is taking “another personal day,” implying that he was gone at least one day after the wedding.

Jake and Amy reach Mexico two days later after, so Saturday, 5/19. Based on dialogue / events they attend / shirt changes, Holt leaves on Tuesday, 5/22. Jake and Amy’s extension begins the next day, 5/23. They are back at work “one week” after Holt leaves, so Tuesday, 5/29 (it could also be Monday 5/28, but it doesn’t really matter because the start date of 6x04 is locked in on a Friday anyway, so might as well give them a full week.)

Continuity Problem: “Captain Holt is at a 49 & improving 8.6% per day” implies that the first scene takes place ~5-6 days after the cold-open, but given Holt’s lack of usual Holt-ness the rest of the episode, we can assume his calculations are off.

Continuity Problem: Amy says that “This is the first time all week” Holt has left them alone, but based on the activities they’ve shown, he’s really only been tagging around with them for, like, 4 days. I’m using the shorter version because 6x04 has to end as early as possible.

E2 (“HITCHCOCK AND SCULLY”): Wednesday, 5/30/2018

Jake is wearing a different shirt here than he was wearing in 6x01. So, the earliest that 6x02 can take place is Wednesday, 5/30.

E3 (“THE TATTLER”): Thursday, 5/31/2018

The next day. It’s a bit odd to have a reunion on a Thursday, but roll with it.

E4 (“FOUR MOVEMENTS”): Friday, 6/1 - Friday, 6/22/2018

Like I said before, because of Jake’s canonical birthday, Gina has to be out of the office before 6/24.

Gina gives her two-week notice in the cold-open.

She stays back Monday-Friday the week after she’s supposed to have left, implying that her official last day was a Friday (assuming that the squad had the weekend off after the Gina-rama festivities, and, of course, she meant exactly 2 weeks). Therefore, she gives her two-week notice on 6/1, her official last day is 6/15, She leaves 6/21, and the episode ends on 6/22.

This timeline locks Jake’s birthday in to the very end of Gemini season, between 6/18-6/20 (with his birthday drinks being the weekend after). Either that, or he (for whatever reason) decided to hold his celebrations a week or more after the actual day.

E5 (“A TALE OF TWO BANDITS”): Day 1 – Day 2 2018

I literally have no idea when this is supposed to happen, except that Day 1 happens on the same day as some kid’s Bar Mitzvah (so probably over the weekend) and the whole thing takes place before Christmas (Trudy says “see you at Christmas!” at the end).

It’s probably also before Halloween/Thanksgiving (so over the summer/early fall) because those events + the holiday season happen pretty close together and we would have probably gotten some indication of those dates approaching during the episode otherwise.

E6 (“THE CRIME SCENE”): Monday, 1/7 – Sunday, 3/10/2019

The murder happens on a Sunday, so Day 1 is a Monday.

Day 51: the briefing room shows 2019 monthly stats on the board, indicating that we’ve officially gotten to the new year, and it’s already February (or later)…

Since it has to be February by the time Day 51 rolls around and Day 1 is a Monday, the episode can start on either December 17, Christmas Eve, New Year’s Eve, or January 7.

December 17 as a start date means that they were working straight through the holidays, which seems unlikely. Christmas/NY Eve as start dates are also unlikely, for obvious reasons. Therefore, Day 1 is Monday, January 7 (and Day 51 is 2/26/2019).

Day 52: Amy punches Jake – 2/27/2019

The Episode takes 8 weeks, 6 days (56 days + “one week later”): the episode ends 3/10/2019.

E7 (“HONEYPOT”): Wednesday, 3/13/2019 – Sunday, 3/17/2019

The episode starts with Jake saying, “this is the third secretary you’ve fired in 3 days,” which indicates that it’s been at least 3 days since the end of 6x06.

E8 (“HE SAID, SHE SAID”): Monday, 3/18 - Friday, 3/22/2019

Day 1: start case

Days 2-4: amy working nonstop; Beefer gives text messages

Day 5: final 2 scenes

Everything has to happen on a weekday because the office that they’re investigating is open throughout.

Continuity Problem: Amy has 3 weeks off; she’s caught up on her paperwork (by which the show meant that she really had no Sergeant duties), and it’s unlikely that Holt would let her sit around and do nothing for that amount of time. However, things always come up unexpectedly, and she’s not doing much anyway in E9-10.

E9 (“THE GOLDEN CHILD”): Monday, 3/25 - Wednesday, 3/27/2019

E10 (“GINTARS”): Saturday, 3/30 - Tuesday, 4/2/2019

Nikolaj probably isn’t in school during this time, at least in the beginning.

E11 (“THE THERAPIST”): Monday, 4/8 - Wednesday, 4/10/2019

As per the B/C-plots, and the fact that therapists probably don’t schedule appointments on the weekends unless absolutely necessary, all of this had to have happened on a weekday.

E12 (“CASECATION”): Friday, 4/19/2019

The earliest this could occur is 4/17; otherwise, it’s illogical to say “our anniversary is coming up.” It’s also been “almost a month” since 6x09 (when they last “hung out”).

I made it a Friday so they could take “next week off” without having to go back to work first.

E13 (“THE BIMBO”): Thursday, 4/25 - Sunday, 4/28/2019

Continuity Problem:

The B-plot takes 6 days (5 tallies on the whiteboard, plus 1 more where Amy’s squad tells her to stop competing for lunchtime greatness), which poses some…problems.

Four of these happen at the same time as the A-plot; two are unaccounted for. However, there aren’t enough days left if Jake and Amy come back from their week off on Monday, 4/29 like they’re supposed to. The latest date they could conceivably come back to work (which would also serve as the first day for the episode) is Saturday, 4/27.

There were three choices here:

Jake and Amy return on Saturday, 4/27. The A-plot lasts until 4/30. The two “remaining” days for the B-plot occur at the same time as “Ticking Clocks” (5/1) and “Return of the King” (5/2).

Jake and Amy return on Friday, 4/26. The A-plot lasts until 4/29. 1 remaining day occurs on the “Free Day” of 4/30, and the other happens at the same time as “Ticking Clocks,” on 5/1.

Jake and Amy return on Thursday, 4/25. The A-plot lasts until 4/28. Both remaining days occur on the “Free Days” of 4/29 and 4/30.

Logistically, it wouldn’t make sense for one of the remaining days to happen during 6x15: Terry would have to a) randomly change his shirt multiple times/day for some reason, and b) comes back to the Precinct more times than shown while dealing with Gina’s problem. Option 1 doesn’t work.

Amy’s dentist appointment is the morning of 6x14, and the last day of “The Bimbo” is 9:07am-lunchtime, so Option 2 doesn’t work either.

Therefore, Jake and Amy start work again on Thursday and The B-plot continues into the afternoon of 4/30. I mean, do you really need a whole week at the waterpark anyway?

(why was the heist on Cinco de Mayo, instead of, like, anything in June. why)

E14 (“TICKING CLOCKS”): Wednesday, 5/1/2019

E15 (“RETURN OF THE KING”): Thursday, 5/2 - Saturday, 5/4/2019

Day 1 is a weekday – Gina has a business meeting on this day.

Continuity Problem: Jake tells Gina that she’s been blowing him off for “the last few months,” but it’s been much longer than just a few months.

Continuity Problem: The B-plot supposedly takes place on Mariano Rivera’s birthday, which is actually in November.

E16 (“CINCO DE MAYO”): Sunday, 5/5/2019

E17/18 (“SICKO & SUICIDE SQUAD”): Wednesday, 5/8 – Wednesday, 5/15/2019

Day 3 is a Friday (at least, that’s what CJ says in his video). Considering that Terry is only just receiving his Lieutenant’s package, the finale probably occurs right after 6x16.

The episode takes 7 days (until 5/14); I’m assuming that the final scene of Holt as a Patrol Cop occurs the day after, or 5/15/2019. This should also be when the first scene of 7x01 happens. Happy anniversary, Jake and Amy!

#brooklyn nine nine #c: jake peralta #c: amy santiago #p: screw light and breezy {jake & amy}#c: raymond holt #c: rosa diaz #c: charles boyle #c: terry jeffords #c: gina linetti #b99 season 6 #idk what else to tag #b99timelinepost #myposts

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thesilverstaganddoe · 6 years ago

Text

The Beginning: Psychology and the Law (Killing Eve Fic) Chapter 11

AO3 Link Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Chapter 11: You’re You

Late on a lazy Saturday morning in early February, Eve found herself knocking on Oksana’s apartment door. When Oksana didn’t answer, Eve, without really thinking about it, pushed it open. It was, of course, unlocked, which was typical of Oksana. She rarely seemed to have a care in the world.

Oksana poked her head over the top of the couch when she heard Eve’s voice. She was sprawled there on her stomach wearing the dark blue, silken dressing gown that Eve had become more the slightly familiar with over the past few weeks.

“Hi, Eve. I did not know you were coming over.”

“I texted you, but I guess you didn’t see it. I was just hoping I could get a copy of that packet of materials from Dr. Marten’s presentation on Friday.”

“Ah, yes...I do not know where my phone is.”

Eve heard a door open from across the apartment and looked up to see a woman she did not recognize emerging from Oksana’s bedroom.

Oh.

The woman froze when she saw Eve and her eyes drifted back and forth between the two of them and eventually settled on Oksana.

“Uh...thank you...for…”

Oksana raised an eyebrow. “For the sex?”

“Yes.” The woman stared at her feet. So did Eve. Oksana looked entirely unbothered.

Without another word, the woman hurried towards to door and Eve took at step forward so they wouldn’t brush up against each other.

As soon as the door closed, Oksana made a face at Eve. “I couldn’t remember her name. Could you tell?”

Eve just blinked at her. She knew Oksana was sleeping with other people, obviously. It was casual, they weren’t exclusive, there was nothing wrong with that. It was just...very awkward to actually run into them. And especially strange that Oksana didn’t seem to notice that it was awkward.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t tend to remember names.”

“You remembered my name after we first slept together.” Eve said it before she could think about it and determine if it was really the most appropriate comment. It seemed to confuse Oksana more than anything.

“Well, of course. You’re you. They’re just hook-ups.”

Eve somehow felt even more uncomfortable than she had before.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come over, I didn’t realize you had someone staying over.”

“It’s fine. And they weren’t really staying over the night we only got here a few hours ago.”

Eve glanced at her watch, but before she had time to actually do that math, she heard the bedroom door open again.

It was a different girl.

Eve stared at Oksana, who feigned a sheepish grin.

The second girl didn’t even attempt to say a goodbye and just quickly slipped out the door.

“My God, Oksana, you’re a nymphomaniac.”

“I’m just enjoying myself.” She popped up from the couch and headed for the kitchen. “I am going to make a smoothie for breakfast. Would you like a smoothie, Eve?”

“I don’t think it’s really breakfast if you haven’t gone to sleep yet.”

“Anything can be breakfast, Eve.”

Eve rolled her eyes and Oksana paused throwing things in a blender so she could study her over the island.

“Are you jealous, Eve? Don’t be jealous. I thought about calling you, but it didn’t really seem like your kind of thing. And you were probably asleep at six in the morning. Would you have wanted me to?

“I…”

“I can call you next time, if you like. It’s a lot of fun, I promise.”

“I…”

“I will text you and you can decide then.”

Eve blinked twice. “Okay.” Oksana grinned. “Here, the smoothie is almost ready. It is strawberries and mango, you will like it.”

Eve accepted the smoothie and Oksana was right, it was delicious.

After she'd finished, she rinsed the glass off in the sink and glanced over at Oksana sitting at the counter flipping through a clothing catalogue.

“Well, if you have that packet, I can get out of your hair. Or I can grab it later, whatever.”

Oksana looked up at her, seeming surprised.

“You don’t want to stay? We can watch movies, I recorded a bunch of really dumb stuff, it would fill the entire day. And I have all sorts of snacks. Five flavors of popcorn!”

“Um…” Eve fiddled with the zipper on her coat. “Shouldn’t you sleep? It sounds like you had a long night.”

Oksana gave her a chipper grin. “I feel fine! I want to watch movies.” She did, indeed, look wide awake. Oksana pushed her glass over to Eve. “Will you wash it for me? I will start the TV.”

Eve nodded and took the glass, while Oksana wandered back to the living room area and began fiddling with the remote. Apparently, Eve was going to stay.

Oksana called to her, “What do you want to watch? I have true crime shows and old horror films, like The Shining and some other. And some stupid shit like The Princess Bride. Have you seen that? I think it’s supposed to be very stupid.”

Eve came to stand behind Oksana sitting on the couch and looked through the list on the TV screen. “It’s not stupid, it’s sweet.”

“I think sweet is probably stupid.”

“Well, then you won’t like it.”

“I think I will. Stupid is funny.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Okay. Whatever you say. But don’t blame me if you get bored.”

She settled down in the arm chair that was to the side of Oksana’s couch and Oksana immediately gave her a critical look.

“Eve, why would you sit there? You cannot see the TV properly at that angle, it will ruin the movie. Come sit on the couch with me.”

Eve was finding the situation slightly uncomfortable for no clearly discernible reason.

“Um, okay.”

Oskana patted the spot next to her, clearly slightly annoyed with what she considered to Eve’s poor movie watching decision making, and Eve sat herself down in the desired location.

It was fine. She’d watch the movie, head home after. No big deal. There was no reason to feel weird. Oksana had just made it awkward with her hypersexual shenanigans. Which was typical Oksana, as usual.

———-

Oksana mocked the majority of the movie. About halfway through, she found her favorite point of criticism.

“Why does he keep saying ‘as you wish’? Does he have no original thoughts? Does it mean something? Is there a secret code or something here?”

“Why would you assume it’s a code?”

“I don’t know, it’s better than him being unoriginal. But he probably is. The movie is stupid, I told you it would be.”

“It does mean something. Do you want me to tell you what it is?”

“Is it relevant to the ending?”

“I guess, kind of.”

“Then, no. I want to be surprised. I’ll bet it’s a code.”

“I wouldn’t really call it a code, exactly.”

“Eve, no clues! I want to be surprised.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

“You should have said ‘as you wish’.”

Eve’s stomach flipped. “I think I’m fine with what I said.”

Oksana shrugged. “As you wish.”

Eve sighed out a breath, hissing through her front teeth. “You probably shouldn’t say that until you know it’s underlying meaning.”

“I assume it’s funny. Either intentionally or in a stupid way. So regardless I am good with it.”

Eve closed her eyes and took another deep breath.

Oksana was a very difficult person.

———-

“I don’t understand,” Oksana said when the movie finished.

“What do you mean?”

“You said there was some meaning behind the ‘as you wish' thing.”

“Well, yeah they told you. He way telling her he loved her when he said it.”

“But, why?”

“What? Because he loved her.”

“Well, yeah. But why does that mean ‘I love you’.”

Eve’s stomach felt very weird. “I...don’t know how to explain this.”

Oksana rolled her eyes. “Whatever, I thought that movie was strange. Except for that rat, I liked that rat. We will watch a cartoon next. One with animals.” She crawled over the back of the couch and went back into the kitchen. “I’m getting the popcorn. And ordering a pizza. What do you want on it? Nevermind, I shall get several.”

Eve lay her head back against the couch, trying to figure out how she felt more tired than Oksana seemed.

———

Apparently, Oksana was at least somewhat exhausted from her sleepless night filled with...exuberant activities. She fell asleep halfway through the third animal cartoon, after eating a bag of caramel corn and several pieces of pizza.

More specifically, she fell asleep and eventually slipped over until she was snoring slightly on Eve’s lap.

Eve wasn’t really sure what to do about that.

Oksana's dressing gown had slipped open quite a bit and Eve could see the full curve of her breasts and the smooth skin between them stretching down across her stomach towards her hips where the belt of the gown just barely held the fabric across her.

It wasn’t a big deal, by any means. Eve had seen her naked more times than she could possibly count at that point. But somehow it felt...far too intimate.

And yet, she let Oksana lay there. She thought about leaving, wondered if it was the right thing to do. It might have made her feel better, might have been less awkward in the somewhat ambiguous situation. But Oksana looked so peaceful, so exhausted, the Eve couldn't bring herself to disturb her. So she just turned on another film and let her sleep.

Night had just started to fall when Oksana finally drifted awake. She blinked sleep from her eyes slowly and then finally seemed to notice the dark that had settled around her. “Oh,” she said, pushing herself up into a sitting position, “I fell asleep.”

“Yes, you did. For several hours,” Eve said, hitting pause on the TV. She’d moved on to one of the murder documentaries and the screen was filled with blood. Oksana didn’t seem to notice or care.

Oksana swept some sleep dust from her eye with a long finger. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It was probably good for you.”

“Eh.”

She got up and stretched and the gown slipped further away from her body. Eve’s eyes involuntarily followed the fabric as it fell. Oksana turned to look at her and caught her gaze before Eve could look away. She grinned and stretched again, a much more purposefully sensual display.

“Were you checking me out while I slept, Eve?”

Eve knew she was blushing. “No.”

Oksana plopped herself on Eve’s lap, hands on her shoulders. The gown was no longer doing anything in terms of coverage. “I think you’re lying. I know you like my body.”

Eve sighed, not bothering to even pretend anymore, and slipped her hands under the fabric, so she could settle them on Oksana’s bare waist.

“Maybe I was.”

“Mmmhm.”

Oksana leaned in and wrapped her arms around Eve’s neck, pressing a kiss to her lips. It was slow and soft, gentler than was typical for Oksana. She pulled away and got back up, pulling Eve with her by the hand.

“Come in here,” she said, heading towards the bedroom.

Eve, of course, followed without question.

Oksana pushed her down onto the bed, but it wasn’t with her usual strength, more lighthearted and playful than anything. She still seemed slightly dazed from her nap, but happily crawled on top of Eve anyway, quick to bring their lips back together and fumble for the buttons on Eve’s shirt. Her kisses were a bit sloppy, but still in no way lacking their usual passion.

She had the shirt pushed halfway off Eve’s shoulders when she paused and planted her hands on either side of Eve's chest and leaned her forehead against Eve’s. Her eyes drifted closed and she sighed.

Eve ran her fingers down Oksana’s spine and felt goosebumps rise up on her skin.

“Are you okay?”

She hummed and nodded. “Yes, very good. I just got tired for a moment. I will perk up now.”

Eve laughed lightly and rested her hands against Oksana’s sides. “You’ve slept like four hours in the past 48 hours. You should be tired. We can just sleep, you know. We don’t have to have sex.”

“Mmm, but I want to fuck you.” She pressed kisses down the side of Eve’s neck and pushed her hands under Eve’s bra so she could cup her breasts.

“We could do that tomorrow.”

“Mmm.” She nipped lightly at Eve’s earlobe and her fingers dug into Eve’s breasts a little more. “Maybe.”

“Go to sleep, Oksana, it’s okay.”

Instead of answering right away, she kissed Eve’s neck again, long and slow, and her lips rested against Eve’s neck even after the kiss had passed. Eve felt them move against her skin as Oksana mumbled, “You will be here for sex in the morning, yes?”

Eve laughed and wrapped her arms around Oksana’s waist, pulling her closer. It pressed their hips together a bit and Oksana rolled her hips against Eve’s immediately and sighed.

“Yes. I will be here for sex in the morning.”

Oksana nodded against Eve’s neck and relaxed completely, dropping her full body weight on top of Eve.

“Are you going to sleep on top of me?”

Oksana nodded again.

Eve let it go. Based on the sound of Oksana’s heavy breathing, she was asleep within minutes. Eve fell asleep, fully clothed, not long after.

#killing eve fic #killing eve #killing eve ao3 #villanelle #eve x oksana #eve x Villanelle #oksana #oksana astankova #Eve Polastri #my posts #my fics

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