#He I believe is more morally grey

[echo-nt]

I know this has already been said and I’m super late, but Mia as the protag of RE8 would have been so good. The contrast between Mia, the Lords, and Mother Miranda would have been absolutely interesting. I'm shoving everything under a read more because damn I have so many thoughts about Mia.

Lady Dimitrescu is a woman that cannibalizes and drinks the blood of her servants and intruders. On top of that, she tortures before preying on them. She does this willingly and very much derives pleasure from doing so. Lady D’s gothic triplets hunt any poor fool that wanders in. It’s a fun family activity for them just as much as it’s for sustenance. 

Do you know what this parallels? The Baker family under Eveline’s control. They patrol the estate and anyone who rejects the “gift” either ends up molded or on the dinner table. This family also partakes in a fucked up version of a family dinner, eating the victims that refused their little girl’s “gift.” 

However, a major difference between the Baker and Dimitrescu family is their willingness to participate in these activities. A family of cannibals; one forced while the other relishes in it. 

Mia is still very traumatized by her three years in the Baker’s estate. Breaking into the castle to find her daughter would force her back. Hello to all the emotions that come with those memories, the ones Mia has been trying to forget. The harder you try to forget something, the more you think about it. What better way to make Mia acknowledge Dulvey, Louisiana than by forcing her into something so similar? 

And while she’s still reeling from remembering her time in captivity, why not push her a bit further down memory lane with House Beneviento? Mia has demonstrated at multiple points in RE7 that she does care about other lives. She lies to Ethan to keep him from getting caught up in her work. She tries to save Alan and crew members of "The Annabelle" (the crew members are a bit more indirect, she mainly focused on Alan) by containing Eveline. After Jack finds her, Mia keeps her distance to keep from infecting them while trying to write a warning. She tries her hardest during RE7 to save Ethan. 

Mia’s hallucinations could center on her guilt. The failure to stop Eveline and the lives ruined as a result. How she was always too late to help anyone. Ethan curing her, a criminal, over Zoe, the person helping him. Leaving Zoe behind in the shattered remains of her home and family. Surviving. Visions of Ethan hinting at his “condition” could lure her to the manor. A little nudge to the whole “he was mold the entire time” plot twist without fully giving it away. 

Moreau, lacking in self worth and very attached to a woman who doesn’t give him the time a day, yet still he considers her as his mother. Most of his actions are for the attention and validation from his “mother.” No matter what Moreau does, he’ll never have her affection or time. It’s sad, isn’t it? To witness a man try so hard only to be rejected. And isn’t that familiar? Mia once felt compassion for someone with similar traits. 

Remember the little girl who considered you her mother? The one that spent three years waiting for you to love her after you promised? The one you had a hand in killing? What makes you think you could ever be a good mother after what you did? Why are you trying so hard to save Rose when you didn’t even extend the same courtesy to Eveline?

Y’all know how Mia’s past is a mystery? Like why she was working for the Connections and how she was even recruited and all that. Heisenberg would be a great way to explore it. A man taken, forced into becoming something else, and stuck in a family he doesn’t want. Mia can relate. He wants to use her daughter as a weapon. She was willing to let another child be used as a weapon. They’re alike, so surely Mia would be willing to side with him.

But Heisenberg is cocky and Mia isn’t the person she was prior/during 7. Even if she was on board with using Eveline as a weapon to end all wars or whatever bullshit the Connections told her, she’s not willing now. Not after what she’s seen and been through. This section could be Heisenberg goading her through the tvs/intercoms about her past to change her mind with Mia remaining steadfast in her refusal.

And then there’s Mother Miranda. Two mothers trying to get their daughters back through vastly different means. Because of the group photo showing Mia and Miranda with Eveline this encounter can go one of two ways. 

Miranda and Mia know each other and have worked together before. Whether it be on the E-Series Project (with Mia becoming the caretaker and spending copious amounts of time at the lab) or though some other means at work. 

They’ve only briefly met when the Connections were in a hurry to transport Eveline.

Either way, Miranda would compare them. As a mother, Mia must understand what she’s trying to accomplish. Would Mia not do the same as she? Maybe at this point Miranda shows she killed Ethan to demoralize to prevent her from interfering with the ceremony. Tells her she’s too late once again and to give Rose to her because she’ll be the superior mother.

Idk, I guess you could switch to Ethan instead of Chris so he can still have Eveline tell him he’s moldy. But he’s a stubborn man and he forces himself back to weaken Miranda so Mia can kill her. Chris shows up and Ethan does the same thing he did at the end by blowing himself up with Chris forcing Mia (with Rose) on the helicopter. That way the Shadow of Rose DLC can still be about Rose and Ethan. 

TLDR; Mia should have been the protagonist because it would have allowed us to explore her character and background more. It was a missed opportunity especially since so much of RE8 centers around mothers. It would have played out better as closing off the Winters Family saga as well since we could have tied the loose ends that came with Mia’s mysterious past.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

I like that even though they do questionable things the one constant thing the 141 has is a very high sense of righteousness against injustice especially when it’s against innocent and defenseless people

[essektheylyss]

@smallerthanzer0 reminded me of my love for Lie To Me as a teenager which is a good part of the reason why anytime I encounter the concept that lying will inevitably lead to a tangled web that spirals beyond your control and come back to bite you in the ass, I'm just like, lol. skill issue.

[designernishiki]

interesting to think about how majima was first introduced as a character beating the shit out of someone for not-so-righteous reasons and thus from then on he was/is widely interpreted as morally grey and difficult to trust, but when yakuza 0 starts with an opening scene of kiryu beating someone to near-death for similarly not-so-righteous reasons, it’s just sorta glossed over and forgotten because he’s just so sweet and innocent and can do no wrong. like damn it’s okay to admit the guy has his issues, some just as bad and unresolved as majima’s, that makes him 1000% more interesting than a guy who’s every action is morally justifiable

[araneitela]

Jace: Sends a meta ask about combat preferences Me: Okay, okay, let me make this short and touch on just the katana... The equivalent of piles, and piles of paperwork in my OneNote and FF tabs: 🤔

[drawlfoy]

plsss get tom out of there, i need him and reader together🤕

ofc bae i’ll make it happen 🙏🙏

[hirazuki]

I caught up again with Hunter x Hunter I keep forgetting it’s no longer on hiatus and keep falling behind lmao and

let the kidnappings and murders be associated with the Kurta clan please Togashi I am begging T_T

[jytan2018]

I read the comic in one sitting less than an hour after finishing the movie, and wow I have many Thoughts™.

- It's very obvious the two versions were meant to cater to different audiences AND tell different messages. I don't get why people are going "But the comic was better! It had more nuance!" just because Nimona was easier to root for in the movie.

- The comic was written back when ND Stevenson was still trying to process a lot of stuff, so all the characters are morally grey/straight up evil and the climactic battle is between a Ballister who regrets turning against Nimona, even if it was to save others vs. a Nimona who's too hurt to care if her lashing out was going to hurt innocent people.

- By the time Nimona got a movie adaptation, ND was a lot more secure in his sexuality, so the climactic battle was Nimona vs. the Director, the symbol of religious oppression and bigotry. It's not just about your friends turning on you because you're "too much" for them anymore, it's also about a society that would rather bring itself to the brink of ruin than coexist with you.

- (I totally get why people were upset about Ballister's surname change, though. Like come on, the media dubbing him Blackheart just to be mean was RIGHT THERE).

- Nimona's metaphor for not shifting is such a neurodivergent thing. Even in the comic, Nimona's parents insisting she's a monster who replaced their daughter is reminiscent of the changeling myth, which is what many parents thought their neurodivergent kids were—changelings who replaced their "real" children.

- Ambrosius being trained to cut off HIS BOYFRIEND'S WHOLE FUCKING ARM instead of merely disarming him is a very cop thing to do. As much as cops claim they're trained to de-escalate situations, their training still teaches them to treat everyone as a potential threat, and that level of constant vigilance can turn anyone into a trigger-happy/arm-choppy bastard. Even the Director, who can use a sword but probably hasn't actually fought someone in ages, STILL can't see Ballister reaching for the squire's phone without assuming he has a weapon.

- And on that note, the Queen getting killed simply because she was trying to reform the Institution and allow commoners to become knights? That's the best "no such thing as a good cop" metaphor I've seen. Because even if there ARE good cops and they ARE in leadership positions, the system will crush them before they make any meaningful change. It's not a good institution that turned rotten, it's an institution that only exists to spread its rot and refuses to be good.

- That's why Ballister's characterisation is so different in the movie vs. the comic. Comic Ballister had 15 years to come to terms with his trauma and the Institution's evildoing, while Movie Ballister is still freshly traumatised and hasn't found a way to define himself beyond the role he was assigned by the Institution.

- Not to mention Comic Ambrosius was not very noble to begin with and genuinely believed Ballister was better suited to villainy than heroism, while Movie Ambrosius never wanted the glory that came with his lineage in the first place and only antagonised Ballister because of indoctrination he needed to unlearn (which he did, all by himself, after witnessing the lengths the Director will go to just to kill Nimona).

- It really shows how important it is to surround yourself with loved ones who are open to change. Comic Ambrosius can love Ballister all he wants, but he'll still blast his arm off because he thinks Ballister deserved it anyway. Movie Ambrosius will stop to question what "the right thing" even means, even if he didn't love Ballister enough to defend him unconditionally.

I have so many more thoughts bubbling beneath the surface, but I'll probably address them some other day. In conclusion:

[ID: A pink-haired Nimona grinning evilly while holding up a knife.]

Watch Nimona. This is not a request.

Edit: Added more thoughts!

[starlitwishes]

((TFW I'm starting to think Evan's alignment is more Chaotic Good/Neutral over Chaotic Good. Hmm.))

[dcvina-claires]

i think the six of crows fandom has a real problem with acknowledging complexity in the characters which is ironic because it’s literally a book about morally grey characters. like yes kaz is a cold blooded murderer who cares more about money than being a good person but he’s also a dumb teen boy with a crush and a bad haircut. inej is a knife-wielding spy as well as a deeply religious girl who never stopped believing in kindness. jesper is a confident, reckless sharpshooter but he’s also incredibly scared and angry. wylan is an empathetic and kind artist along with being a dangerously intelligent explosives expert. nina is a fun, food-loving girl but she also stands up for the oppressed and struggles to recover from an addiction. matthias is an angry druskelle but he’s also the boy who learned to love grisha unconditionally. even kuwei has more depth than we give him credit for. he’s the flirty troublemaker as well as a grieving kid who’s had too much pressure put on him. they all have nuance, please don’t take that away because it’s such an important theme in the books

[sanakiras]

LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

❝ AND THE DANCE FLOOR IS FILLING UP WITH BLOOD, BUT OH LORD, YOU’VE NEVER BEEN SO IN LOVE! ❞

WORD COUNT — 17k

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, unrealistic circumstances, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst, medium long hair!gyu bc self-indulgence, tsundere-ish reader again guys sorry i love her so bad, mentions of parental neglect, this ended up so long help

♪ verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex,, florence + the machine - mermaids,, zayn - bordersz,, mikky ekko - who are you, really?,, q - alone,, danna paola - tenemos que hablar,, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, summer camp - i want you

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. the music recs above are also really nice to get into the vibe! enjoyyyy :D

[ ONE ] ✧˚ · .⋆ ★ [ JUMP TO PART TWO ]

i. ASK ME THE TRUTH AND I’LL TELL YOU A LIE

the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.

“on september 2nd, around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police receives a call from you, saying your father hung himself.”

you stare at the the inspector — whose name you did not bother remembering — before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”

with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”

“no, i don’t.”

“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what exactly happened, since there were no witnesses.”

“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”

he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that were the case?”

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.

all you can do is sigh. “i was his daughter in blood and name only. nothing more.”

with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”

that sparks your interest. “who?”

the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.

“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.

“what can you tell me about him?”

leaning back in your chair, you list a few things. “he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”

“anything else?”

keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”

“any particular reason why?”

“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”

the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”

“such as?”

his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”

your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”

“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”

“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”

“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”

scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.

this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.

you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.

which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.

your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.

and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.

as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.

his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”

“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”

your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”

he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”

it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.

“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”

he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”

“neither am i.” you state. like always, there’s a tangible coldness to your voice, which he finds soothing, for whatever reason.

it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.

a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair.

you proceeded to laugh in his face.

mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.

“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”

instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”

you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”

a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”

only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.

so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.

mingyu only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.

ii. THE HATRED WE BEAR

you find yourself staring at your father’s tombstone with a numb face and the wind breezing through your hair. your makeup is slightly smudged under your eyes from the tears you shed just an hour before, while you were giving the public a final speech regarding his passing.

the funeral was long — too long.

at a certain point, once the whole thing was done and everyone left, you decided to take a quiet moment for yourself in the graveyard to let everything sink in.

you made the mistake of thinking you’d left alone.

a voice you’re too familiar with speaks up behind you. “i’m sorry for your loss.”

of course it’s kim mingyu out of all people who’s still here, sneaking up on you.

you don’t have the energy to make a snarky comment this time. “i’d ask why you’re still here, but it’s a question i already know the answer to.”

he still offers you his answer. “i’m here to check up on you.”

well, that takes you by surprise. “why?”

“you lost the one parent you had left. i don’t want you to be alone.”

something about that sentence fuels a sudden anger in you. he’s got some fucking nerve, saying that to you. “maybe you should’ve considered that a couple years ago. you know, before you decided to become my dad’s little protege.”

even as a little girl, your bond with your father was a shitty one. your mother passed when you were young, so you barely have any memories left of her.

in an attempt to win his love and affection, you always did everything your father asked of you, yet your efforts were hardly acknowledged. you found him to be a harsh and cruel man, but surely with you being his daughter, his only child, he must’ve cared for you. or so you always told yourself.

something about your yearning for his approval and support changed for the worse when mingyu’s mother became a prominent business partner to your father, about nine years ago. it made him spend more time with the kim family, and you have no idea how or why it happened, but mingyu became like a son for him.

you saw how well your dad treated him, and you cried for a long, long time as you compared it to his neglect towards you. for every pat on mingyu’s back, you got scolded for not being good enough. whenever he got praised, you got discarded. it’s no miracle that you came to be the way that you are. detached, perceptive, appearing to be just as unfeeling as the man who raised you.

you hated your father. with all your heart.

but you grew to hate kim mingyu more.

so to hear him say that he doesn’t want you to be alone — that takes the goddamn cake.

he lowers his head at your words. “it wasn’t like that.”

“right. of course it wasn’t.” your voice is painfully spiteful.

“i wouldn’t have done it if i knew it was at your expense. i’m sorry.”

he’s trying to be nice to you, not understanding yet that it’s actually doing more damage, making you angrier. “the last thing i want is your fucking pity.”

“then what do you want?”

“nothing you can give me.” it’s a subtle final warning coming from you, because you’re actually about to explode at him. “just leave me be.”

“please, just... i wanna help you.”

like a ticking time bomb, you suddenly hit your limit. finally, you turn around, facing him, and it’s only then that he truly sees how upset you are, like a storm suddenly changing its direction, and he’s in the way.

“help me? you’d help me by getting the fuck out of my face. you wanna know what i want, mingyu? i want to know what in god’s name everyone loves so much about you, what it is that made my father shut me out completely and replace me with you. he gave you more love than he ever gave me. just looking at you makes me sick. what the fuck did he see in you that he didn’t see in me?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from pouring your emotions out to the guy in front of you. “why did he hate me so much? even in death, he favors you over me. he left you... everything. a final ‘fuck you’ to his own child. and for what? for you?”

the fact that you got word from your father’s lawyer that your father chose to leave everything he had to mingyu instead of you was like the straw that broke the camel’s back.

throughout your life, you always did what was expected of you. you were the perfect daughter.

and for what?

the fact that your father grew to hate you and love this asshole so much that he left you not a single penny to your name — that is your tipping point.

and mingyu just wordlessly allows you to continue ranting, almost as if he deserves it.

“what the fuck is so special about you, huh? because i don’t get it. sure, you’ve got a nice face and you’re a smart guy, but i don’t believe you actually give a shit about others. i bet you came here today to rub my dad’s inheritance in my face — you fucking pretentious douchebag.”

“i’m sorry. i never meant—” he stumbles, nearly falling over as he backs away while you keep stepping forward, feeling surprisingly small in front of you, in spite of his tall frame.

“i don’t give a shit if this is what you intended to happen or not! i’m all alone.” you show your sadness right between the anger and hostility, vulnerable in front of him. “no family like everyone else, no money, no house, nothing. abandoned by the one person i had left.”

he looks at you as if you’ve just slapped him across the face. he’s never even shown you a hint of vulnerability — nor have you for that matter — so why is he showing it now?

you’re too deep into your breakdown to think rationally about it. “you took literally everything that i had. and i’ll never forgive you for that.”

“please, let me—let me fix it.” he chokes out, as overwhelmed by your strong emotions as you are yourself.

the harshness of your words makes him feel like he’s crumbling in your presence. “talk to me like you care about me one more goddamn time, and i’ll make you regret ever meeting me in the first place.”

in all the years that you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him flinch — you doubt any of your words have ever hurt him.

until this moment, it seems. but why is he even hurt? you don’t care about him and he doesn’t care about you. it’s always been that way, and you have a hard time believing it’ll ever change.

the moment you walk away from him with a sharp pain in your chest, pushing him to the side by his shoulder, he’s left behind in a shocked and bewildered state, neither of you aware that a pair of curious eyes witnessed the whole exchange.

iii. ULTERIOR MOTIVES

“the full inheritance of your father has been transferred over to you.”

the cup of tea you were raising stills with your hand. your eyes narrow at your lawyer as you’re seated in the garden of your father’s estate. “what—how? why? it wasn’t passed down to me.”

“no, but the person it was passed down to can always make the decision to pass it on. and he did — surprisingly with no strings attached,” he tells you, putting the document from the notary in front of you, “i had it all double-checked. everything’s there, the documents signed by kim mingyu himself.”

just hearing the name makes you grimace, putting you off your tea. “and there’s absolutely nothing he wants from me?”

“nothing was mentioned, no. he did, however, leave you a note.”

“what does it say?”

your lawyer raises his brow as he reads it, handing it to you instead of reading it out loud, which makes you give him a puzzled look before casting your eyes downwards to the piece of paper.

tomorrow, 4:30, my apartment. all you have to do is sign the papers. i look forward to the day you’ll make me regret meeting you.

“that asshole.” you mutter to yourself, not loud enough for your lawyer to hear it, but he’s certainly got an idea of how you feel about the whole situation.

“you do, of course, always have the option to reject the inheritance, but i would highly recommend not to. frankly, in all of my years of experience in this field, i’ve never felt a bigger need to encourage a client to take a deal.”

once you’ve picked up the documents and skimmed over the words, you look back at him. “and if i did accept it, it wouldn’t contain any possible implications for me in the long term?”

“none. it is... fairly remarkable he’s willing to give you the full inheritance for nothing in return, even if he and his family are known for their wealth. but it wouldn’t be a significant loss for him, considering the capital he already has to his name.” the man explains, not needing to spell it out for you.

you put down your cup. “knowing him, i’m not so sure he doesn’t want anything. i suppose i’ll have to talk to him about it myself, tomorrow.”

your lawyer highly encourages you to do so, leaving you to spend the rest of the day wondering what he could possibly want from you.

and so the following day, at 4:30 sharp, you step into his apartment — penthouse is the more fitting term. you’ll admit, though, that he’s got style.

it’s dead silent in his place, save for the metronome in the background and the slow brew of his coffee machine. he’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with black trousers as he approaches you. “glad you could make it. coffee?”

“why are you willing to give me the inheritance?” you ask directly, not feeling up for the unnecessary chitchat. you’ve always hated small talk. “if it was just a set-up, i’m leaving.”

he doesn’t seem to be even the slightest bit surprised by your forwardness. “i’m willing to give it to you because a) i don’t need it, and b) i don’t want it. i think it’s ridiculous your dad set up his will like this.”

“well, that makes two of us.” you fake a polite smile, clearly very sarcastically, putting your hand on your hip. “you asked me to come sign the papers, but i have yet to see them.”

mingyu smiles a little at you. of course you’d skip straight to business — you never were a girl of many words. he walks over to a cupboard and takes a sealed folder with the documents out of a drawer, handing it to you.

when you attempt to take the folder from him, he swiftly retracts his hand like the asshole he is. “it’s not completely free, though.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “of course. i should’ve known better than to believe you were willing to do something out of the kindness of your own heart.”

he just keeps going as if he didn’t hear you, very much used to the little quips you throw at him by now. “don’t worry, i think you can manage this very small task for me.”

“just tell me what you want already—”

“my family’s hosting a gala next week, on friday. i’d like you to be my date.”

you’re baffled. this is what he wants in return for the inheritance worth millions of dollars? to have you on his arm for a single night?

oh, hell no. you’re not falling for it.

“why? you wanna publicly humiliate me or something?” you question, a deep frown settled in your forehead.

he huffs, annoyed that you’d think that low of him. “i know we’ve always hated eachother, but, maybe, during a hard time… it would be nice to have one relaxed night. and yeah, i wouldn’t mind doing that with a pretty girl to keep me company. what do you say? deal?”

not once in all the years you’ve known him has he ever called you pretty.

“fine. but don’t think about pulling any stunts.”

“wouldn’t dare.” his smile sits somewhere beween teasing and serious when he finally hands you the papers.

you sit down and briefly scan the documents, not signing them right away to have them checked by your lawyer first. “if everything in this is according to the plan, you’ll have them signed by tomorrow morning.”

“okay. see you friday.” he winks at you, escorting you to his front door, a subtle grin on his face that gives off the impression he’s planning something, and you can only imagine what it might be.

there is one good thing about having to spend time in his family home, though — and that’s to search his rooms to find anything that might implicate him having something to do with your father’s murder.

since there’s still a culprit to be named.

with your own agenda in mind, you walk out of his apartment, searching for the name of your stylist in your contacts.

you’re going to need a dress, after all.

iv. A PROPOSAL

with a stern look on your face, you look at the entrance of the gala from the tinted window of your car. it’s all bright lights and colorful decorations, candles, flowers — the kim family is well known for their luxurious and memorable parties. you’ve attended plenty of them. while you and mingyu may not get along, his sister and mother are genuine sweethearts, some of the kindest and most welcoming people you know.

if only you could say the same for the asshole you’re about to spend the evening with.

after checking your makeup in the pocket-sized mirror for a final time, your driver opens your door so you can step out of the car, which leaves you on your own in front of the stairs.

mingyu originally mentioned he wanted to pick you up at your home like the gentleman he very much claims to be, but you very quickly shut the idea down and told him you’d just meet him at his family’s mansion.

so here you are.

attending a gala only a month after your father’s funeral must seem like an… interesting choice, to say the least. the people you come across express their condolences and ask if you’re doing well — you wonder if the sentiment is real or not — and you tell them you’re here because it serves well as a distraction.

you’ve become an excellent liar over the years.

as you’re standing at the top of the stairs, leaning on the railing, you observe the people on the dance floor below. those who aren’t dancing are chattering, the noises of clinking glasses and laughter filling your ears.

most of the time, you’re able to somewhat enjoy this life. but the truth is that it can be as exhausting as it is glamorous.

but with your last living parent gone, you do feel a sense of freedom, even if it is lonely at times.

not like you didn’t feel lonely when he was still alive.

you didn’t love him or care for your father. you cared for the hope that someday he would change. that he would show you he did care for you, even a little bit.

but that day never came.

he was primarily an investor, so at least you haven’t been burdened with having to take over a business or anything like it. having no siblings either, you feel like you should take this opportunity to start fresh; focus on building your own career and use your father’s money for things he’d never approve of.

suddenly, you spot your date in the midst of the crowd, breaking you out of your train of thoughts. his half-long hair looks pretty on him, you have to admit, the few strands in front of his face paired with the tailored, navy suit giving him the appearance of a model.

he’s currently talking to an older woman who clearly seems to adore him, the smile he puts up making her give him a gentle, loving squeeze on his upper arms. like always, no one is able to read the bitterness you feel as your face remains neutral.

growing up in your restricted social circle of the country’s wealthiest families, your group of peers wasn’t extremely big. you all went to the same primary school, same private high school. mingyu was always one of if not the most popular kid at school. an effortless ace at every fucking thing. everyone loved him, be it your peers or their parents.

you wouldn’t say you weren’t popular. quite the opposite, actually. your best friend was the queen bee of the school, as she was always striving to be the best in everything. top of the class, highest achievements, a true perfectionist at heart. bold, definitely a bit judgemental and classist too, but once she’s your friend, she’s the sweetest girl in the world. she did like to dabble in some drama with others if it came onto her path.

and you were the opposite. you preferred to steer clear of any drama, much preferring to watch it unfold from the sidelines — as you usually just didn’t care enough to interfere with it — and you were never quite as talkative as your best friend.

the sentences leaving your mouth are always quick, direct, sharp and without stutter. you’re masterful at small talk, even though you hate it. you know how to play people like a fiddle. your father made you use your manipulation skills to good use rather frequently.

many consider you cold and calculated.

which is true, of course. but you still have a heart, even if it barely beats.

the outburst you gave mingyu after your father’s funeral must’ve come as a shock to him. no one has ever seen you in such a vulnerable and weak state, and out of all the people who could’ve seen it, it naturally had to be him — and that makes you uncomfortable.

once he’s finished his conversation, he looks in front of him, then up at the balcony — and he locks eyes with you.

you give him a look of acknowledgment, but that’s it. he doesn’t seem to mind, though, still shining as brightly as ever, making his way up the stairs as fast as he can. “i’m sorry i wasn’t at the entrance to greet you, i didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”

“it’s fine.”

he glances up and down, admiring the dress you chose. “you look gorgeous.”

the deeply dark green dress with its boat neckline, long and fitted sleeves and intricate gold embroidery makes you look elegant. with the dress itself already being quite the statement piece, you chose to pair it with dainty earrings, your hair half-up and curled.

“thank you.” you don’t bother saying anything about his appearance. he must be used to it at this point.

“can i get you something to drink?”

you test the waters by throwing in a joke. “what, planning on poisoning me?”

his eyes flicker for a moment, stricken by something you can’t quite place, which makes you blink at him. his flirtatious and charming self returns within a mere second, and he proceeds to snicker at your joke. “i could, but where’d be the fun in that?”

rolling your eyes at him, you take his arm once he’s offered it, keeping in mind you’re doing this for the inheritance.

the time goes by quicker than expected. he introduces you to some of the people he’s close with, tells you stories you’ve never heard before, even asks you about yours.

a few of his friends come by as well, surprised to see you by mingyu’s side. most people your age here know that you and him have never quite gotten along, to put it lightly.

when they subtly ask about it, mingyu tells them he insisted you came to distract yourself from the death of your father, and that you could probably use a party.

it raises more question marks as to what his motive is for asking you to be here tonight. what is he gaining from this? he hasn’t humiliated you yet. if anything, he’s only spoken of you highly, save for the little snark he keeps between the two of you.

it’s strange. really strange.

after a while, once all the guests have been drinking a bit, you decide to set your own plan in motion. this might be your only chance to snoop around here, as you doubt you’ll find yourself in here again anytime soon.

you’re literally invited in his home — you’d be a fool not to check his room.

unfortunately, just as you try to disappear from the crowd, mingyu extends his hand to you. “dance with me?”

just as you’re about to refuse him, you remember that this is the one night you have to be nice to him, all so he can give you the inheritance that was meant to be yours in the first place.

with a small sigh, you slide your hand in his, at which he grins triumphantly.

before you know it, you’re in the middle of the room together, and he has his one hand on your lower back, the other hand intertwined with yours. he’s smooth with his moves, you have to admit.

the question has already left your mouth when you process it. “why am i here? i’m sure there’s a reason i needed to be your date tonight.”

mingyu cocks his head at you. “i think you’ve had to endure a lot the past couple weeks. the incident, the interrogations, the press, the shit with the inheritance — i’m impressed you haven’t lost your mind yet.”

“how do you know i haven’t?” you ask, and he twirls you around, his hands feeling like they’re burning on your skin. “wasn’t my breakdown after the funeral enough to prove you otherwise?”

“well, looking back, i should’ve probably left you alone in that moment. but i did think about what you said, and you can correct me if i’m wrong, but i feel like your father and our ties to him were what made us hate eachother so much. now that he’s gone, maybe we can… i don’t know. tolerate one another.”

you make sure to hide your confusion from him. does he really not see it? sure, the main reason you’ve always despised mingyu was because of his relationship with your father, but you weren’t exactly best friends before that either.

even putting it like that would still make it the understatement of the year.

if he actually pictures the two of you becoming friends, though, he’s lost it.

unsure of what to tell him, you give him a shitty excuse to escape the conversation. “i’m just gonna use the ladies’ room, if you don’t mind.” you let mingyu know, and he nods at you in acknowledgement, caught off guard by you leaving so suddenly.

so you walk off, the voices of the people and the music in the hall fading into the background as you trail off.

now that you’re alone, you can finally go check his room.

it’s harder to navigate the mansion than you thought. hallways that all look similar, god knows how many rooms — you hope you won’t get lost here.

one of your best friends is good friends with mingyu’s sister, and so she knows the place like the back of her hand. when you asked her for the layout of the place, she did think it strange, but you told her she had nothing to worry about.

mingyu’s bedroom and study are supposedly on the third floor of the east wing, and the party takes place in the west wing.

so that’s just fucking great.

your best friend did warn you that he most often keeps his doors locked whenever visitors are present, so to ensure you could get in, you snatched the key from his pocket when he was dancing with you earlier.

it almost makes you chuckle when you think about how easy it was.

when you’ve finally arrived at what seems to be the door to mingyu’s room, you double-check the environment around you to see whether anyone’s following you, and when it appears to be safe, you shove the key into the lock, twisting it.

you exhale when realizing it’s the right key.

entering the room, you quickly shut it behind you, taking in the sight.

it’s raining outside, which you take notice of through the large windows. several paintings adorn the walls — you didn’t know he was a lover of art — as well as some photos of him with his family.

the room is surprisingly tidy, his clothes all neatly folded on the wooden planks in his closet and the drawers underneath. the few books he has sitting on top of the cupboard are gathering dust — you suppose he doesn’t like to read all that much.

of course he doesn’t.

his king-sized bed seems soft and comfortable, and the room smells of the cologne and perfume he always wears.

you blink a few times, realizing you’re dwelling too much on details that are not a priority right now.

which is enough to snap you awake, a rush of adrenaline moving through your veins as you look for anything interesting. files, documents, notebooks — anything.

you find his agenda in a drawer of his desk. with slightly trembling fingers, you move the pages back to the date of your father’s death, as well as the days before that.

as you’re caught up with doing so, you momentarily forget the first rule of breaking into a forbidden space: never turn your back to a door when you should be watching it.

“you know, i’m starting to think you agreeing to be my date came with ulterior motives on your side.” you suddenly hear mingyu’s voice behind you, at which you turn around, looking a bit too guilty for comfort.

your voice almost gets caught up in your throat, but you keep your composure. “if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t plan this.”

“it’s alright.” he responds, closing the door behind him smoothly, as if he doesn’t want you to see it. “you still think i had something to do with your father’s death, don’t you?”

“i’m not sure. i don’t see why you would, now that you’ve given me the inheritance. what other motive could you have?”

all mingyu does is clench his jaw at the rhetorical question. then he snaps out of it, his eyes trailing to the desk you’re currently leaning on. he takes a few steps closer to you, and you raise a brow, waiting in anticipation what he’ll do.

his face is suddenly very close to yours, and you’re almost convinced he’s leaning in to touch you when he reaches for the drawer behind you instead. “well, as a matter of fact, i did have something to show you.”

that surprises you.

“your father always carried a little red notebook with him. it’s the only part of the inheritance i didn’t give you, solely because i wanted to show you myself. there’s a few strange scribblings in it, with locations and numbers, and look at this—” he opens it up in front of you, pointing at the paper with his index finger, “apparently he felt like he was being followed just days before he died. maybe the police is right and he did get murdered.”

“yeah, i already figured he probably pissed off the wrong guy.” when he looks at you hopefully, you shrug. “what?”

“we should check it out, right? find out who killed him.”

you immediately shake your head at his suggestion. “no.”

mingyu’s whole body language changes, genuine confusion overtaking his features. “what do you mean, no?”

“he was caught up in all kinds of shit, things i never wanted to be a part of. that’s no different now that he’s six feet under.”

“are you not the slightest bit curious who killed him?”

“frankly, no, i’m not. i’d say whoever is guilty did me a favor.”

despite your valid point, he persists. “okay, then how about this — what if this person would come after you for whatever reason? don’t you want to know who you’re dealing with?”

you narrow your eyes at him. “why do you care so much, mingyu? i’m sure this is something you could manage on your own.”

the sudden question surprises him, so he shrugs. “maybe i’m not sure why. but i do. and you know i did care for him.”

“why don’t you just let the police handle it?”

“because they don’t know this world — and we have access to places, people they wouldn’t even know where to find or how to deal with. have you talked to the detectives? they’re amateurs.” he answers, pausing before taking a step closer to you. “he’s dead either way, doing a small bit of research might be interesting. who knows what you might find.”

“and you wanna do this with me of all people because...?”

he rolls his eyes at the question. “you were the only other person directly affected by it. c’mon, am i really so bad that you can’t even deal with me for a little while?”

the fact that you just give him a deadpan stare tells him all he needs to know.

it makes you bite your lip. you don’t feel like doing this at all, certainly not with mingyu of all people, but he appears to be ready to do this with or without you.

besides, you do feel up for a little adventure.

“fine, i’ll bite. hypothetically, what if i were interested in finding out who killed him?”

the young man in front of you tilts his head. “then i’d suggest we work together and do some digging.”

pursing your lips, you watch his pleased expression when he notices you’re actually considering it. “why do i feel like i’m gonna regret this?”

“maybe you will. maybe you won’t. we can go right back to hating eachother after this, but for now, we’ll be partners. deal?”

your eyes linger on the hand he’s stretched out to you, and even as you’re hesitant to take it, he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

with a sigh, you shake his hand. “okay. deal.”

v. PARTNERS IN CRIME

“for someone so organized, he sure as hell has a lot of unnecessary shit lying around here.” mingyu mutters, searching through the drawers of the cupboard.

you scoff in agreement. “tell me about it.”

the two of you are rummaging through your father’s study in your home in an attempt to find anything interesting as to what he might’ve been up to the past few years.

so far, you’ve had zero luck with it.

you already figured there’d probably be nothing of interest here, but mingyu insisted, said it would be stupid not to. so here you are.

“you know, i’m pretty sure my dad wouldn’t be as stupid as to just leave traces of his criminal affiliations lying around in his study.”

mingyu shrugs while simultaneously looking into a drawer. “you never know.”

“he was an asshole, but he was a smart one.” you mumble to yourself as you go through the little notebook mingyu just handed you a few minutes ago.

he watches you with curiosity. “can i ask you something?”

without looking up at him, you give him a rather direct response. “i’m sure you’ll ask me regardless of my answer to that question.”

ever so indifferent, he thinks. if anything, one thing about you he is actually fond of is your unfiltered attitude. more people should be like that. “you said you’d never forgive me for what i did to you."

hearing those words makes you look up at him. you’re surprised he’s taking an approach this straightforward with you. “i know what i said.”

“is there nothing i can do to at least make things more civil between us?”

god, you’re sick of him already.

instead of outright telling him you hate him more than anyone else you know, you cross your arms over your chest and fire a question right back at him. “why do you want things to be different between us? don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over it, now.”

mingyu pauses a moment before he answers you. “i thought about the things you said, when you were upset with me, and i realized i’ve made your life harder without having intended to do so. and yeah, i am losing sleep over it.”

while he does appear earnest, you don’t exactly trust him, so all you do is shrug your shoulders.

he wants to say something right when his phone rings. once he picks up, you figure it must be something business-related, judging by the tone of his voice and formal language.

an apology directed at you leaves his mouth as soon as he’s hit the red button on his screen. “i’m sorry. an important business meeting was moved and i promised my mom i’d be there.”

you’ve met mingyu’s mother a few times, at events. she’s the ceo of a very prominent hotel business. many of the highest ranked hotels around the world are under her care, and she clearly knows what she’s doing, since her business has been thriving for many years at this point. you remember it was her who took over as ceo after mingyu’s father passed in a car accident when he was younger.

“then you better get going.” you tell him, your face not pulling a single muscle. you hope he didn’t think you were going to ask him to stay.

he nods at your words, taking the jacket with his initials embroidered in the tag and slinging it over his arm. “yeah. i’ll call you.” he says, going out the doorway, yet your voice makes him halt in his tracks.

“mingyu.” you say his name to him, an unfamiliar feeling on your tongue, and he turns to look back at you.

he awaits your words, catching the subtle warning in your eyes as you refer back to the question of his you had yet to answer.

“we may be working together now — call us associates, or even partners in crime — but once this is over, we’ll go right back to strangers. let’s just keep this… somewhat professional.”

you find he can be surprisingly hard to read from time to time, for a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. after blankly staring at you for a few seconds, processing the words, he just offers you a little smile and a gentle response. “okay.”

and he walks off, only leaving you more intrigued than before.

for two days, it’s complete radio silence from mingyu. all he asked you over text was if you’d been able to find anything in the study, to which you replied with a simple no. he didn’t say anything else.

you sincerely thought this whole investigation of yours wasn’t actually gonna lead to anything, that it was useless — until now.

it’s eleven o’clock, dark outside, the metronome ticking in the background of your living room as your eyes are glued to the screen of your laptop.

you just got a notification from the bank that someone made a significant withdrawal from one of your father’s bank accounts, one that still needs to be signed over to your name.

question is, who the fuck has access to your father’s bank account besides you?

no one. supposedly.

staring at mingyu’s contact in your phone, you twist your lips, unsure of whether to call him about this or not.

going against your gut, you press on his phone number and wait for him to answer the call.

nothing.

for good measure, you call him a second time. same result.

then it hits you. you spoke to wonwoo last night — he mentioned something about him and mingyu going out together this evening.

wonwoo, thankfully, does pick up his phone. “hey. what’s up?”

“hey. are you with mingyu right now?”

“yeah, why?”

“where are you?”

“uh—” he stutters out an address in the middle of the city, clearly confused by the urgency in your voice. “what’s going on? what do you need mingyu for?”

“well, it’s hard to explain. anyway, i’m coming over.”

“he’s kind of—”

you quickly interrupt him by hanging up. taking your wallet and car keys, you head out. the address wonwoo’s given you is located in the club scene downtown, and you make it there in no-time with the navigation on your phone.

parking your car across the block, you get out and check your phone, heading to wherever wonwoo and mingyu currently are. you usually tend to go for the clubs at the other side of the city, as the vibe feels a little different here, but you’ve been around the neighborhood a couple times, so it’s not entirely unfamiliar to you.

when you arrive at the club, you catch the sight of your friend leaning against the stone wall outside.

jeon wonwoo, all handsome in his expensive jacket and sleek shoes, looks surprised when he notices you of all people coming up to him, even though you told him you were coming. his voice is soft when he greets you. “hey. you gonna tell me what exactly you’re doing here?”

shrugging your shoulders, you put your hands in the pockets of your black coat. “you said you were here with mingyu. i gotta talk to him.”

“right now?”

taking note of his baffled reaction, you tilt your head to the side. “yes, right now. i don’t care if he’s occupied.”

wonwoo brings a cigarette to his lips, pushing the pair of dark-rimmed glasses higher up his nose. “what’s going on with you and him, anyway? i thought you hated each other.”

“we still do.”

“well, something’s changed.”

“believe me, wonwoo, i don’t like him any more than he likes me.”

all he does is narrow his dark eyes at you.

just when you want to open the backdoor to the club, wonwoo stops you. “you do know what kind of establishment this place is, right?”

frowning at him, you open the door just the slightest bit to check whatever he’s getting at, and once you catch sight of the pink and red lights, sensual music and metal poles attached to the ceiling, you momentarily close the door again.

right. this must be one of those clubs that are hidden from the prying eyes of non-customers, to give the illusion there’s nothing going on behind these walls, giving the rich clients some privacy in their activities.

you roll your eyes. “when you said you were going to the club, i didn’t think you meant a strip club.”

“i was about to tell you when you hung up on me.”

“so why are you out here and not in there with him?”

“because i wanted to smoke and he felt like heading into a more secluded space. with company, no doubt.”

oh, this is gonna be fun. since kim mingyu pretty much ruined your life, the very least you can do in return is ruin his night. you briefly chuckle to yourself. “alright. well, have fun smoking.”

“you’re still going in?” he calls after you, and all you can do is scoff.

“you think i care whether kim mingyu’s gonna have a good time or not?”

“forget i asked.” he responds, the hint of a smile tugging at his facial features. “i’ll wait here ‘til you get back.”

you shoot him a knowing smirk before stepping into the club. remaining in the background, you scan the area to see if there’s a glimpse of him somewhere.

at the other side of the bar, a man seems to be on watch in front of a separate hallway, so you figure that’s where the jackpot is.

not bothering to look back at the bartender, whose gaze trails after you, you head over to where you need to be, which is where you’re stopped in your path, as expected.

“these are occupied private rooms, ma’am.” a bouncer tells you.

“look, sir, i…” you begin, coming up with some bullshit excuse to get past him, “i’m pretty sure i saw my boyfriend just go in here with a dancer. all i want is a confirmation, i’m not looking to start drama.”

before the man can respond, you wordlessly hold up a small stack of hundred dollar bills between your index and middle finger, waiting for him to take the bribe.

works like a charm wherever you go.

his demeanor changes once he sees the money. “what’s he look like?”

“tall, dark medium-long hair, brown eyes, pretty handsome — though that’s probably subjective.” you shrug, adding a little fake smile to it. you can get far in life with a little charm and money.

the few generic features seem to be enough for the bouncer to know who you’re talking about. he takes the money from your hand, pointing his finger at one of the more secluded rooms in the back.

“go for room number six.” he says, stepping to the side so you can pass him.

thanking him, you head into the back, the heels of your ankle boots clicking against the floor.

the rooms have their matching numbers on neon signs above them. your eyes curiously take in everything they see, but all rooms grant the people in them privacy with the use of frosted glass.

once you’ve made it to the room with the number six on the sign, you take a breath while your hand rests on the handle.

you enter the room soundlessly. the broad space is dimly lit with its soft lights, a mixture of yellow, pink and red almost convincing you that this place is a mere fever dream.

mingyu is seated on the velvet red couch, his legs spread with a girl in skimpy lingerie dancing between them.

yet his eyes are on you.

with his head tilted down, he looks up at you from beneath his lowered brows, peering right past the bare hips of the girl as if she’s not dancing in front of him at all.

you catch a hint of intrigue in his features. he reaches inside his pocket to hand a small stack of money to the dancer in the exact same way you did with the bouncer only a minute before, and the girl leaves you to your privacy.

“hello to you, too.” he says, not bothering to move a single muscle as he remains on the soft couch.

“next time, answer your damn phone.” you scold him, staring him down with the coldest glare you can muster, and mingyu’s not sure why, but he relishes in it. it doesn’t happen often that someone treats him like this.

“i was occupied.” he casually answers, his hand running through his dark locks.

“well, not anymore.” you grin, handing him your phone to show the photo of the bank transcripts. “apparently, my dead father just took fifty grand out of his account.”

mingyu furrows his brows at the screen. “where?”

“all the way at the other side of the city. question is, who else has access to his account, aside from me?”

“we should go and check the footage.” he says, shrugging his shoulders, and he finally gets up, towering over you again. “i know someone who’s with the municipal authorities, i’ll make the call.”

“right now?” you ask, referring to how deep into the night it is, at which he raises his brow.

“yes, right now. this is the best clue we’ve come across so far. don’t you agree?”

“i do. i just thought you cared more about, y’know, being occupied.” you emphasise the last words with a waving hand, gesturing to the girl that was previously dancing on him, and his flirtatious nature comes right back to him as if it never left.

“why? wanna give me a show before we leave?” he smirks, getting closer, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you, to see what’s lurking underneath your closed-off persona.

fine. both of you can play this game, you think to yourself. “what, are the girls here not enough to get you off?”

“is that a yes?”

“why would you want a lap dance from a girl you can’t stand? i may not like you, mingyu, but i didn’t think you’d stoop so low to go after any woman with a pulse.”

“i feel flattered,” he smiles, eyes trailing down to your exposed collarbones, finding it ridiculously hot in here, “and i don’t particularly like you, either, but we both know you’re gorgeous. besides, i’ve seen you dance at chan’s club. you looked good.”

his honesty almost stuns you in your place. you didn’t think he held that kind of physical attraction towards you, yet it makes you feel good — because you think he’s fucking hot, too.

such a shame that he’s an asshole.

but still, there’s no time to dwell on his words. you have a reputation to uphold and a murder to solve, after all.

so you lean in, whispering your decision. “in your dreams.”

jesus, mingyu thinks, do you even remotely know how much sex appeal you have? it makes him beyond impulsive. “did you know studies have shown that sleeping with someone you can’t stand is arguably the best thing ever?”

you sarcastically reply to him with the exact same tone. “did you know you’d be so much more bearable if you just kept your mouth shut?”

“what? it’s part of my charm.” is all he says in return, snickering a little over your response, and you merely roll your eyes.

“we’ve got a different idea of charm, then.”

“okay, fair enough.” he shrugs, still maintaining the minimal distance between your bodies. “so what do you find charming? i’m dying to know, really.”

“i like men who don’t feel the need to pay for a woman’s touch.” the reply comes fast and sharp as a blade. “i hope you pay them generously, since they have to put up with you out of all people.”

“she didn’t touch me, though. it’s a strip club, not a brothel.”

“how noble of you.” you humorlessly chuckle at him, attitude turning more playful.

“mhm.” mingyu nods his head, the rest of his words sounding lower and suave. “tell me more. c’mon, i’m curious. i gotta know my partner’s preferences, right?”

the look you give your current partner is something. you decide to indulge him this once, face inching closer to his, just to keep things interesting. “i want someone who won’t hold me back. someone who will accept me for who i am — uninhibited.”

there’s something you can’t quite place flashing behind his eyes. it’s close to intrigue, but more intense, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen it in anyone else’s eyes before.

“good to know.” he breathes out, as if your words stole his breath, and you come to the realization that maybe, there’s more to kim mingyu than you thought.

now that he seems to be pretty much speechless, you raise your shoulders. “so, are we heading out or should i tell the dancer to come back in?”

he stutters out a reply, and you find it funny how his attitude is constantly going back and forth between a flustered mess and the most confident guy in the room.

once you’ve returned to the backdoor where you got in, you see wonwoo is still outside, his cigarette put out on the ashtray beside him.

“you leaving?” wonwoo asks, waiting for either of you to answer.

“yeah. duty calls.” mingyu replies while putting his jacket on.

for what it’s worth, wonwoo is actually a dear friend of yours, and one of the few people you show physical affection to, so you give him a kiss on the cheek before walking off. “catch you later, okay?”

he nods, catching mingyu curiously watching the exchange, and when you walk off with him, wonwoo notices him put his hand on your lower back, which you proceed to swat away.

a mere twenty minutes later, you and mingyu are seated in your car in an empty parking lot, looking at a screen displaying street security footage of the bank where the withdrawal was made earlier tonight.

mingyu’s friend seungkwan, who works for the authorities, sent you the footage, and as you’re looking it over, he’s on the phone explaining his observations. “he was wearing a mask and a cap, so we couldn’t recognize him. the car he drove has a license plate that doesn’t match, so likely stolen. he drove from a nearby parking garage to the bank, withdrew the cash, got back in the car and then parked it right here, about six blocks further, in the business district.”

the building the car is parked across is one you’d recognize any time of day. it’s where your father’s main office is — or was — one of the places he never allowed you to get into, or anyone for that matter. it was the only place where he got the peace and quiet he wanted.

you turn your head to glance at mingyu, giving him a knowing look. “that’s where my father’s main office is.”

“you think the guy’s gonna try to break in?”

“if he got his hands on the passcodes and proceeds to wait before the building he always worked in, then yeah, i do.”

you nod in agreement, because he makes a fair point. mingyu looks at the worried expression on your face and decides you’ve gathered enough information now.

he thanks seungkwan and tells him bye before hanging up, then turning his focus to you. “whoever that guy is, if he’s planning on breaking in, we gotta beat him to it.”

“you wanna break into an office on the seventh floor located in a building that neither of us are allowed into? they won’t even let us pass the front desk. i know because i’ve tried.”

he shakes his head. “trust me — we’ll find a way in. i’ve got an idea, but it’s not gonna be easy.”

vi. WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I

the following days are spent analyzing and memorizing blueprints, tracking the people entering and exiting the building and checking security in the hope of finding some kind of loophole in the system.

trying to get in through the front door is too risky, so you’ve opted for the roof instead, because there’s several buildings so closeby that you can get into either of the buildings next to it and reach it from there. you’ll get in with a classic heist movie tactic you pray works in real life as well.

ventilation shafts.

so now, you’re both in dark and practical clothing to attempt breaking in. because your plan is mediocre at best.

as you watch from the rooftop of a currently unoccupied office building nearby with a binocular, you face-palm yourself the moment you notice the security set-up is different than anticipated with the blueprints, meaning the ventilation shafts are most likely not accessible. “well, fuck.”

“what’s wrong?”

you hand the binocular to mingyu, and he mimics your previous actions, huffing in annoyance when he sees it too. “shit. what do we do now?”

“nothing.”

“what?”

“our plan was already risky enough, but now that we pretty much don’t even have a way in, we’d be stupid to try. we only have a fifteen-minute window before a security guard comes up the roof again.”

“that’s plenty.”

“it would be, for like — a swat team. we’re amateurs. at this, anyway.”

“speak for yourself.”

“oh, i’m sorry, have you done anything remotely on this scale before?”

“well… no.”

pinching the bridge of your nose, you roll your eyes to yourself. “we should’ve brought wonwoo.”

mingyu is quick to respond with a sarcastic comment. “and tell him what, exactly? ‘hey, we need your help breaking into one of the best-guarded buildings in the city so we can snoop around and try to find a clue leading to a killer’?”

“well, i don’t know if you’ve noticed, gyu, but we quite literally have no other options.”

“we could always try the front door. you’re still his daughter, they might let you in.”

“i really hope that wasn’t an actual suggestion, because if it was, it would highly diminish the idea i have of your intelligence.”

“is this your way of telling me you think i’m smart?”

“well, currently, i think you’re being an idiot, so no.” you retort, stealing the binocular out of his hand again. “god, i’m starting to respect criminals. this shit is difficult to navigate around.”

mingyu chuckles as he adjusts the black baseball cap on his head. “there has to be another way. maybe we could—”

“—get in through an open window.” you interrupt, handing the device over to him. “you see the glass window in the roof of his office? it looks like it’s ajar.”

once he sees it too, he tilts his head. “it’s almost too easy. it’d have to open manually, otherwise we’re screwed.”

you can only shrug. “it’s only a modern interior on the inside, the building itself is older, so the odds might be on our side. besides, it’s worth a shot, right?”

“can’t argue with that.” he agrees, checking the other buildings around to figure out the best approach.

you watch him as he’s distracted. he’s fully going for the whole partners-in-crime thing you’ve got going on with him, yet a part of you is still unsure what his motives might be.

but for now, you’ll just focus on the task at hand.

every fifteen minutes, a security guard comes up to the roof, checks everything, stays for a minute or two and leaves again. you’ve been keeping track of it. as soon as the one currently on duty closes the door to the staircase behind him, heading back down, you both start a silent timer on your watches, getting to work.

one thing you discover doing said task is that jumping from roof to roof is really not as easy as they make it seem in the movies. if anything, it’s pretty scary, even if they are relatively close to eachother.

the jump from the last building to the one you need to be on top of has the biggest gap, and mingyu takes a solid leap, landing ever so gracefully.

you shuffle your feet for a moment, making the mistake of looking down. mingyu notices your hesitation and tries to encourage you the best he can. “it looks scary, but it’s a relatively easy jump. i swear. that’s gotta mean something coming from a person with a fear of heights.”

clenching your fists, you try to steady your breathing. “don’t you lie to me, kim.”

there’s something strangely charming about you using his last name whenever you’re scolding him. “c’mon. i’ve always thought you were fearless. you’re not gonna diminish the idea i have of you, right?”

curse him for using your words against you like that.

clenching your fists, you bite your lip, the worst case scenario going through your head over and over.

“just go back a couple steps. steady your breathing, and then you run. okay?”

you don’t respond to his words but do as he says anyways. the jump isn’t even that far, you’re just afraid of tripping.

but you won’t go out embarrassing yourself in front of kim mingyu. your pride is too strong for that.

so you take a deep breath and make a run for it, jumping over the gap and landing on top of the other roof, far away from the edge. mingyu laughs triumphantly. “good job.”

“thanks.” you smile as he helps you up to your feet, and you dust off your jacket, proud of yourself for going through with it.

the two of you walk over to the glass window, and you kneel down, inspecting the lock. thank fuck — it’s so simple that all you have to do is click it open. you’re guessing they probably thought the security walking around was enough.

with your hands covered in gloves, you wiggle them through the gap and crack it open, after which mingyu takes the lead. he lets himself drop into the office silently, looking up at you as a gesture for you to follow him.

you attempt to do the same as him, but you figure he must have strong arm muscles, because you’re barely able to hold yourself up the way he can. he notices your struggle and moves to stand underneath you.

“just let go. i’ll catch you.”

“are you sure?”

he nods, his arms up as if he’s waiting for you to jump right into them. “yeah, yeah. i got you.”

not entirely convinced, you try to drop onto the floor in a way you can still hold yourself up, but mingyu proves himself true to his word when he catches you as easily as drawing his next breath. he looks you in the eye while he has you in his arms, his senses feeling heightened as your clothed skin touches with his.

then you tap on his shoulder, and he lets go of you.

the office is bigger than anticipated. the moonlight from outside is bright enough for you to not need a flashlight, so that’s beneficial.

mingyu is awfully quick on his feet for someone as tall and bulky as him. he’s quiet in every step he takes, which is useful in a situation like this.

while he begins to look through a bunch of drawers, you open cabinet after cabinet, going through some documents that don’t really contain anything interesting.

you turn to look at the desk and the painting on the wall behind it. it’s nothing spectacular — your father never had much of an appreciation for art, so you find it strange he’d even have it up here.

out of sheer curiosity, you try to check if there’s a secret stash behind the painting like in those crime movies.

you have to refrain from laughing when your eyes fall onto the safe in the wall. “hey. gyu.”

he turns around, his entire demeanor changing when he sees what you’ve found. “you’re kidding.”

the safe has a surprisingly easy system. it has four dials, so you need a code with four numbers to get access to whatever’s inside. you change the dials to your birth year for fun, but naturally, it doesn’t work. hell, mingyu’s birth year might have a better shot.

while you try out every combination you can think of, mingyu gets the little notebook out of his pocket — the one that was part of your father’s inheritance. he flips to one of the last pages. “try 9-3-6-8.”

going with his suggestion, you rotate the dials until they have the right numbers, and you hear a click. blinking a few times, you turn the small crank wheel beside the dials and open the safe.

there’s not much inside in terms of quantity, but the things that are in there are no joke.

two gold ingots, a stack of files and a loaded handgun with a silencer attached to it.

“what the fuck was he up to?” mingyu asks rhetorically, inspecting the pistol with care, and you shrug, grabbing the files to put them into the bag you took with you.

“i don’t know, but we should hurry up. we can look at whatever all this is later. clock’s ticking.”

he figures you make a good point, so you hold out your bag, and he puts all of the safe’s contents into it.

you’re both scared to death when you suddenly hear voices coming from the other side of the door. you immediately zip up your bag and close the safe back up, putting the painting right back in front of it.

footsteps come approaching your direction, and you realize you don’t have enough time to get back out of the office without being caught red-handed, so you’ll have to find a place to hide.

just as you’re about to go sit underneath the desk, mingyu doesn’t hesitate to grab you by your hand and pull you against his body, both of you hiding in the small gap between the bookcase and the wall, which is right next to the door.

you almost jump in your place when the door is opened by a security guard, and mingyu puts his hand over your mouth to make sure the guard doesn’t hear you.

thankfully, you’re hidden right behind the door now that it’s opened, but your heart is fucking pounding as your chest is pressed against mingyu’s, and all you can focus on is him.

he’s suffocatingly close to you.

the situation forces you to look at him so closely — like never before. your attention trails down from his dark eyes to the litte mole on the bottom of his nose, the shape of his lips, and the glimpse you catch of the silver chain adorning his collarbones.

it’s the first time you see how big of a man he is. he’s been working out a lot in the past few years, with considerable results — standing this close to him highlights the contrast between his frame and yours.

the footsteps leave the office not long after, and the door closes. you’re finally able to breathe properly when he releases his palm from your mouth, and you inhale and exhale deeply.

“you alright?”

“yeah. that was just — scary.” you respond, cracking a little smile.

he nods, neither of you really moving in your places yet. “you can let go of me, y’know.” mingyu whispers, sounding entirely unconvincing, and you frown before looking to your hand that’s apparently been clutching his jacket this whole time.

“oh, yeah. sorry.”

“it’s okay.” he assures you, pointing to the ceiling. “we should probably head back.”

you agree and sling the bag over your shoulders, on your back. he gets onto the desk first so he can climb out the same window you used to get in, and once he’s gotten up the roof again, he extends his hand to you so he can pull you up.

it doesn’t go smoothly. he’s a little clumsy, but he manages, so you take a breather once you’ve made it out of the office with him. you close the window in the exact position it was before you opened it, and you make it to the safety of the rooftop where you started just twenty minutes ago.

as you quickly go down the stairs of the abandoned building to reach the ground floor, he laughs triumphantly. “holy fucking shit. i can’t believe we actually pulled that off.”

you smile at him with adrenaline still rushing through you, heart still pounding in your chest when you realize what you just did.

and honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever felt that… alive.

a mere fifteen minutes later, you’re seated in a half-empty diner with him. he’s across from you in the booth, elbows on the table as he fiddles with his fingers.

while he looks around the place, you take the files you found in the safe out of your bag so you can look them over.

as your eyes fall onto the first page, you frown.

mingyu notices your gaze. “what’s wrong?”

you switch to the other file folders before scoffing to yourself, realization hitting you. “you gotta be fucking kidding me. they’re tabs he kept on the people around him. the staff at home, his driver... even me. and you. well, looks like he didn’t trust you completely.”

before he can even reply to the subtle dig, you slide the folder with his name on it across the table, and he opens it up, noticing a huge chunk of information on him neatly stashed away in separate documents. there’s even candids there that must’ve been made by a private investigator.

“i knew he was paranoid, but this takes the cake.” you mutter, and you throw the folders back into your bag, and mingyu hands you his so you can take it as well.

“well, this sucks.” he sighs. “those files aren’t of much use, so now we’re back to square one.”

you tilt your head. “that’s not entirely true. we might be able to check where the gun came from, or whose name it’s registered under.”

mingyu hums, lifting the cup to his mouth, whispering a compliment, not really expecting for you to hear it. “smart girl.”

with your bag zipped up and everything off the table again, it’s quiet between you and mingyu for a moment.

“god, i’m starving.” he says as you wait for your food to arrive, and where he’s slightly fidgeting in his place, you sit completely still, looking at him with a frown. once he catches your gaze, he raises a brow at you. “what?”

“do you do this often?”

“eating in a cheap diner?”

“trespassing. breaking in. illegal activities. whatever you wanna call it.”

he shrugs. “occasionally. keeps life interesting, y’know?”

the casualness in his attitude makes you scoff. “sure.”

“you don’t agree?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but then again, you don’t really say much at all.” he says bluntly. he doesn’t mean it as an offensive statement in the slightest, but it would’ve probably sounded better if worded differently.

for a moment, he thinks his impulsivity must’ve upset you, seeing as you remain silent for a moment.

then you laugh at him. the sound is completely new to him, yet strangely soothing to his ears.

“you’re bold, i’ll give you that.” you snicker before taking a sip of your coke. “but i assume you don’t have an issue with people who are on the quieter side, since you’re besties with wonwoo and all.”

mingyu mimics your facial expressions. “yeah, i prefer being around quieter people more. but i didn’t—it came out wrong. i meant, you don’t really, like... show who you are. if that makes sense. even back when we were in high school, you were like a mystery. you still are, to me.”

“is this what this whole partnering-up thing is about? you wanting to unravel the mystery about me? because if it is, i’ll give you credit for the creativity.”

mingyu tilts his head. “well, it’s a little more nuanced than that.”

“if you wanted to get to know me, why didn’t you try years ago?”

“have you met you?”

you roll your eyes. he smirks at you, enjoying your company quite a lot, anticipating whatever it is you’ll say in response.

“you wanna know something, mingyu?”

“yeah.”

“you’re telling me i’m the mysterious one, but i’d say that’s you.”

his playfulness falters a bit, and he shows his confusion instead. “me?”

“mhm. you’re popular, good-looking, charming, all of that — and i think you’ve got layers to yourself that no one even knows about. characteristics no one would ever dare imagine when they think of you.”

his breath hitches in his throat. “why do you think that?”

twisting your lips into a pout, you put your drink back down on the table. “wouldn’t be any fun if i outright told you, would it?”

mingyu narrows his eyes at you. you just shrug, as if to tell him he’ll figure it out, if he’s smart enough.

and he welcomes the challenge.

“okay.” he smiles, biting his lip when he leans back in his seat. “but, hypothetically — what if you’re wrong about me? what if i don’t have those layers you’re talking about?”

you eye him up and down, remaining quiet with your arms crossed over your chest. you’ve always had that attitude. like you know more than everyone else, as if you’re the smartest person in the room. usually, you are. and yet you’re never smug about it, unless someone challenges you to be — you’re always calm, cool, collected. stoic. the fact that wonwoo of all people called you an ice princess years ago says enough.

“i’d be sorely disappointed.”

“so you have high expectations of me?”

“in a way, perhaps. though you’ll have to work a little harder to impress me.”

“tonight wasn’t enough?”

“it was a start. we still loathe eachother, remember?”

“right. i’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

sure, you and kim mingyu hate one another, but he still makes you smile the most anyone has in ages, and you make him feel more alive than anyone else has.

vii. FRIENDS CLOSE, ENEMIES CLOSER

“i’ve got bad news.” you say, tapping your nails on the coffee table in your living room as you have mingyu on speaker.

“okay. do tell.”

“the gun isn’t registered, so we pretty much only have the files as evidence.”

“yeah. i doubt your father put those files together himself, since they seem like the work of a professional. we might be smart to seek out the private investigator who gave him the intel.”

you know he hears you sigh at the other end of the line, and your response hardly sound convincing. “yeah, i guess.”

“what’s wrong?”

it’s quiet for a moment. you speak up with a tension rumbling in your chest. “maybe we should just quit, gyu. i don’t feel like what we’re doing is actually going anywhere. we still don’t have a proper lead.”

then it’s his turn to remain silent, and you swear you can hear his breath shudder. “we’ll get there. it just... takes some time.”

“you sound a little too sure of that.”

“i just think it’d be a waste to not continue after the stunt we pulled last week.”

“what’re we gonna be doing next? breaking into the national bank?”

“something tells me you’d find that exciting.”

well, shit. have you become so transparent that kim mingyu of all people can tell the truth about you?

“maybe i would.” you grumble like a child admitting defeat.

the sound of his laughter echoes through the phone. it subconsciously brings a small smile to your face.

“look, i have a meeting ‘til five. i can come by after to brainstorm about things, pick up some food on the way. are you free tonight?”

“yeah. text me when you’re on the way here.”

“yes, ma’am.” he jests, saying he’s got to go before hanging up. it leaves you to stare at your phone for a minute. a past version of yourself would never believe it if you said mingyu would ever get close to you in the way he has over the past two months. it’s been a strange time. it’s come to the point you’re pretty sure you don’t even hate him as much as you used to.

maybe you don’t even hate him at all anymore. maybe.

but something about admitting that to yourself feels scary, so you put your thoughts elsewhere while secretly looking forward to having him come over again.

it’s a quarter past five when he sends you a message, letting you know he’s picked up the food and on the way to your house, and a mere twenty minutes later, you and him are seated in the lounge on the first floor as he tells you about his day – all while shoving a dumpling into his mouth.

what interrupts you, however, is the noise of your doorbell. mingyu frowns instantly, and you mimic his expression, because you weren’t expecting any more company. “who’s that?”

“no idea.” you shrug, so you get up from your seat, jogging down the stairs with mingyu following you, simultaneously chewing the food in his mouth.

checking the screen beside the door that’s connected to the doorbell, you notice a familiar face standing outside.

“isn’t he the main detective on the investigation?” mingyu asks rhetorically, his body language changing to something more stiff. “what is he doing here?”

“good question. i certainly didn’t invite him, but the guy at the front gate probably told him i was home. fuck — you have to hide.”

“hide? why?”

because the detective thinks you still hate mingyu, so seeing him here would make your story hardly plausible. “because he can’t see you, obviously. get upstairs and stay there. i’ll distract him.” 

“are you sure?”

“yeah, so go!” you push him back with your hands on his chest, and he seems hesitant to leave you by yourself, but he eventually jogs up the stairs again to get out of sight.

the inspector smiles only as a formality. you do the same. you haven’t spoken to him since you indirectly accused him of being an asshole, a while before your father’s funeral.

“good evening. i hope i haven’t come at a bad time. may i come in?”

“i have to take a business call soon, actually, so another time would be—”

“i won’t be long. i assume you’d like to have an update on the investigation?”

well, fuck. he’s got you there, so you’re forced to let him in, but you don’t let him wonder and gesture for him to sit down in the living room, on the couch. you move to take the seat directly across from him to ensure his focus is on you, instead of on the huge staircase behind him.

“am i still at the top of your list?” you ask. when the man tries to find the right words to respond, you scoff, filling in the blanks. of course you still are. “but you have no evidence.” 

“it’s not about evidence — moreso the lack thereof. i’m stuck with two people who each have a solid motive, an alibi that’s far from foolproof, and an important tie to the victim. you cannot deny that.” 

“is this another interrogation? because this is all off-record.”

“not an interrogation. i was just wondering something – back when i spoke to you last, before your father’s funeral, i asked what you could tell me about kim mingyu, your father’s former associate.” hearing him say his name makes you anxious, yet you pull every possible muscle to hide it. “you spoke of him as if he were the devil himself. you clearly hated him, perhaps more than you hated your father.”

“and?”

he pulls something from the inside of his jacket, and you discover they’re a few candids, photos taken of you with mingyu while out in the city. well, that’s just fucking great. you’re gonna have to make use of your top-notch acting skills here.

“i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me asking why you’re suddenly seeing someone you claim to hate as much as you do.”

the blankness of your face dissolves as you adapt a more playful and sassy persona. “you came all the way to my home for this? a few photos?”

“a few photos of my two main suspects together for a reason i cannot think of, yes.”

“you can’t think of a single thing? really? no offense, but i was under the impression you were at least a little clever.”

the man stares at you as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. that can only mean one thing – he’s falling for your act.

what an idiot.

you lean forward in your place, the dry smile remaining on your face. “i fucked him. several times, actually.”

he narrows his eyes at your statement. “i thought you told me you hated him.”

“oh, i do. but a good hate-fuck is the best way to release some frustration. you should try it sometime.” the sound of your voice is monotonous as you utter the words in one go.

“i’ll keep it in mind.” he sarcastically responds with a fake smile, and you copy his body language, pleased to see you’ve made him somewhat uncomfortable.

he clearly wants to change the subject, but you don’t feel like continuing this conversation any longer. “if you’ll excuse me, i really have more pressing matters, so i trust you can see yourself out.”

the inspector huffs a bit, but he knows better than to overstay his welcome. he wordlessly allows you to let you walk him to the door before turning around. “i hope you know who you’re dealing with. not everyone is who they say they are.”

leaving you confused, he looks at you a moment, proceeding to walk out your front door, after which you close it. did he know more than he was willing to let on? what a strange visit.

when you finally decide to turn around, you see mingyu standing in the middle of the stairs, looking a little baffled, at which you roll your eyes.

“why would you tell him that?”

“would you have preferred it if i told him the truth?”

“would that be so bad?”

you scoff, passing him on the staircase. “see, this is what i mean when i say you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

mingyu follows you back up to the lounge. “i’m just saying — maybe it’d make us look less suspicious.”

“it’d do the opposite, gyu. trust me.”

“okay. fine. but out of all the things you could’ve said, why that?”

“well, it made him uncomfortable, making it easier to get him to leave early. and, well… you know what you look like.”

the last sentence really grabs his attention.

“what i look like?” he repeats, knowing damn well what you’re getting at, but he’s eager to hear you spell it out for him.

“well, you’re somewhat good-looking. it’s one of your few strong points, actually.”

“so you think i’m hot?”

“didn’t quite say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“not really. you may be conventionally handsome, gyu, but attraction is a whole different thing.”

“oh, c’mon. admit it. i’m willing to, so…”

“do i need to remind you i said we’d keep things professional? which you agreed to.”

“god, you’re so tough.”

“part of my charm. maybe that’s why you like me so much.”

“i never said i liked you.”

“no, you didn’t have to.” you scoff, laughing at him, and mingyu feels the corners of his lips curling up — because you’re right.

then, as you plop down on the seats in the lounge again, you sigh as you look at the papers scattered across the table.

“you know, it’s been weeks, and we still haven’t got the slightest clue who’s the killer,” you frown, fingers resting on your collarbone, “and if i’m being honest, i doubt we ever will.”

mingyu briefly narrows his eyes at you, proceeding to take his laptop out of his bag. you watch curiously when he silently types away at his keyboard, then turning the device around and clicking on the play button.

suddenly you hear your own voice, and the words — you said those during the interrogations. how the hell did he get his hands on those recordings?

he seems to be able to read your mind. “i’ve got a contact in the force. he sent me the sorted files of everyone who was interrogated. we should probably listen to them, right? after all, we know more about the situation than the detectives.”

blinking a few times, you shrug and nod in agreement, so he increases the volume and presses the button again.

the following two and a half hours are spent listening to the recordings and taking notes of important things. you’re only halfway through them, but doing this the whole time really sucks you dry of energy.

at a certain point, you press the pause button and get up from your seat, moving to the liquor cabinet a few meters away. “you like a good whiskey, right?”

“yeah. how’d you know?”

“i observe and listen. that, and i heard you say it to wonwoo one time.”

he chuckles at your words, watching you take the bottle with two glasses and set it down on the table.

once you’ve poured the liquid into the glass, he takes what you offer him and down it in one go, after which you give him a judgemental stare. “seriously?”

“sorry. had a rough day.”

your gaze softens, and you pour him a second glass as he holds it out. “why?”

“i just… haven’t been feeling great lately. not really sure why.”

well, that’s interesting. “your conscience eating away at you?”

his eyes widen an uncharacteristical amount, and your face is blank for a few moments until you crack a smile. he laughs it off, squeezing his hands together, which you take notice of.

“guess you could say that. no, i don’t know. my sister’s been stressed and she won’t tell me why, which is odd ‘cause she always comes to me — and my mother’s been overworking herself, and i’m worried for her.”

pursing your lips together, you cast your eyes down for a moment.

for some reason, you feel a sense of repulsiveness whenever mingyu speaks of his family like that. as if it’s a reminder of what you didn’t have.

but you don’t show it.

“sounds tough.” you reply, not intending to sound distant — you just find it difficult to know what to say.

what you fail to recognize is that mingyu sees it. he sees your struggle and the emotions you think are so deeply hidden underneath the surface. they actually are, to be honest, but he’s come to know you and with that the way you hold yourself. and he’s suddenly able to read you better.

you’re made of sharp edges only — broken glass on all sides.

he takes another sip of his drink. you down yours in one go.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

mingyu’s eyes curiously follow your every move, the alcohol in his system making him bolder. “how are you holding up?”

“me? ‘m fine. why do you ask?”

“i think mostly ‘cause i’ve asked you a lot of questions, but not that one.”

the words make you silent for a moment, and you let out a knowing sigh when you realize what he’s getting at. “i told you i was glad he died, gyu.”

“i know. but even if you are, you can still find it difficult to deal with.”

you inhale and exhale slowly, leaning back against the wall for a moment, staring into nothing. “i’m not sad that he’s gone. i never will be. but there’s things i wanted to ask him.”

when you don’t continue, he asks you to. “what things?”

“things about my youth, my mother… hell, maybe even about you.” you shrug, chuckling for a brief moment, but the sound is gone as soon as it came. “but i think, mostly, i’d ask if he saw himself in me.”

mingyu is intrigued by your answer. “why would you wanna know that?”

you shrug, your tiredness contributing to you opening up. “because maybe i’d hear the answer i want to hear, and not the one i currently have. my worst nightmare has always been to turn into him.”

“you won’t be like him.” he tries to tell you, but you shake your head.

“i already am. i hated him to the bone, and yet i act like him, sound like him, handle things like him — because he taught me everything i know. at the end of the day, i am my father’s daughter. there’s no changing that.”

“you’re not a bad person. he was.”

“how would you know? he was nice to you. stand-offish, probably, but nice.”

“you don’t think i had an idea of what kind of person he was? i cared for him, but i knew he could be harsh. i caught some bits and pieces when he… yelled at you after our high school graduation.”

you have an almost visceral reaction as he mentions the incident. your father had yelled at you after the graduation, because the best student of your class got a prize on the big podium, and it wasn’t you. and that as a result made your father angry, because being in the top five wasn’t enough — because it should’ve been you.

it was always supposed to be you.

“why did you even want to be around him at all? if you knew how much of an asshole he was all this time.”

mingyu stares at the wall for a few seconds when he thinks about it. “he came into my life when i needed it the most. but looking back, i feel guilty. i shouldn’t have cared for someone like that.”

“like what?”

“someone that cruel. he didn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, not in any way.”

“can only good people be loved?” you ask in return, and he seems positively surprised at your question.

“you’d find love for a bad person?”

“mingyu.” you say his name in a brief chuckle, and it steals his breath away. “do you think you have that much of a choice over who we love? we don’t. that’s what makes it so complicated.”

he seems to grow increasingly stressed with each thing you say, much to your surprise. “but would you want to love someone like that?”

looking away from him for a moment, you think his words over. “if that person was good to me, and had the same values… yeah, i would. trust me, the few people i care about are no saints, and yet i’d go to hell and back for them.”

“am i on that list too?”

you meet his eyes, and his expression is so beautifully genuine, full of raw emotion you’ve never seen him show before. it’s then that it finally hits you — kim mingyu actually cares about you.

the worst thing is that you just might care about him, too.

so you gently smile at him with a light shrug of your shoulders. “maybe.”

he reciprocates it, his brown eyes blown wide as he gazes at you. “i’m glad. you’re on my list too, y’know.”

“am i?” you tease, and he nods cheerfully, happy to have verbalized his appreciation for you. “well, i didn’t really see it coming, that’s for sure.”

your words bring mingyu’s thoughts back to the death of your father, the rift you accused him of causing between the two of you. a wave of guilt comes flooding in once more.

“look, i… i know you may not believe me, but i genuinely feel sorry for what happened. for taking something from you. despite the things i saw and heard, i really was too stupid to see that your dad treated you as badly as he did.”

staring him right in the eye, you don’t fail to catch the earnestness in them. “it’s alright. you’re not half as much to blame as i’ve tried to make myself believe you were.”

the words intrigue him. “how come?”

swallowing the lump in your throat, you press your lips together. “because he didn’t care about me. he never did. maybe he was different before my mother died, maybe he wasn’t. i wouldn’t know.”

mingyu tries to hold his ground as he watches you get emotional. he remains quiet in his spot next to you.

“can i tell you something?” your voice is hesitant and almost inaudible, like a child who’s trying to tell their parent they did something wrong.

when he silently nods, you continue.

“you wanted to know why i hated you, right? well, i...” you pause in an attempt to find the right words, “i felt invisible to my father. like i didn’t matter — i was treated like nothing more than a tool to improve his businesses. but you... he treated you like a son. like a person. and i spent years trying to figure out what i did wrong and you did right, and i just... i didn’t get it. i still don’t. but whatever it was, i was jealous that you had it and i didn’t. and everyone loved you and praised you, be it our friends or their parents. everyone in our social circle. from my point of view, no one had ever uttered a single bad word about you, and then when my father began to take a liking towards you as well... i just hated you. you were my perfect scapegoat.”

the guilt on his face is clear as day. when he parts his lips, you already know he wants to apologize again, but you shake your head, speaking up first.

because you don’t hate him anymore.

“mingyu, there was nothing for you to take away from me to begin with. long before you were even present in his life, he didn’t care for me either.” with the corners of your lips turned down, you continue. “i did everything he asked. perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect social life. but he didn’t care. it’s not often i say people have no heart, but he just… he just didn’t have one. for his job, perhaps, for his business partners — but not for anyone outside of his work. i just didn’t think that would go for his own child, too.”

you reach for your forehead, trying to take his attention away from your face, running your hand through your hair while blinking your tears away. why are you telling him all this?

but it just feels so good to finally get it all out.

“you did the best you could.” he tells you, and you nod with watery eyes.

“i did. and somehow, none of it mattered.”

when the first heavy sob leaves you, you try to hold it back, not wanting him to see you break down.

he doesn’t let you. he moves to sit next to you and takes you into his arms, and for the first time in however long, you let yourself break. the tears are your acknowledgement of the pain it has caused you over the years, the damage that will never quite heal and always follow you wherever you go.

you’re not sure why you’re falling apart this easily. you hardly ever cry anymore, perhaps a few times a year, and you usually feel strong enough to hold it all back when you’re in front of others, but this time — this time, you just can’t.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. it’s okay. you’re alright. he’s gone now.” he whispers into your ear as comfort. “but you’re not alone. not anymore.”

his heart shatters when he internally makes the comparison between the loving family he grew up in and the lonely, broken family you could hardly call home.

“why wasn’t i enough? why didn’t he like me?” you mutter to yourself, having lost control as you cry into mingyu’s neck, clinging onto his body as your chest aches.

“because he couldn’t. he didn’t have it in him to care for anyone. that says more about him than it does about you.” he responds, gently stroking your hair, even pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel… cared for. like you truly matter to someone.

something that feels scary, perhaps even strange, but good.

mingyu’s big arms cage you into his hold, a comforting feeling. to be honest, you wish you could stay with him like this for the whole night. maybe even longer than that.

he rubs your back, feeling the pain in your chest as if it were his own. he’d take all of it if he could. you were damaged in a way that no one deserves, and seeing how much it still affects you and most likely will in the long term, that tears him apart.

the heavy ache in your chest subsides, yet you still cling onto him. you feel the most at ease you’ve ever been with anyone.

“thank you.” you mumble, giving him a tight hug with you wrapping your arms around him ‘till he’s almost suffocating. “i needed that.”

“anytime.”

you eventually finally come down from your breakdown, body slightly twitching as the last tears silently roll down your cheeks.

with your head in his lap, you lay on your side, closing your eyes for a while as the pain in your chest slowly subsides. he’s still rubbing at your clothed skin, and you’re curious if he’s aware it does wonders for calming you down.

“i’m sorry for yelling at you, gyu. after the funeral.” you speak up, voice still raspy. “i was wrong about you.”

mingyu feels his throat tighten up. “it’s okay. i was wrong about you, too. we have more in common than i initially thought we did.”

you wipe your tears away and move to sit upright, finally feeling confident enough to look him in the eye again. “like what?”

both of you are tired. everything that’s happened the past weeks has definitely been causing some sleepless nights for both of you, and with all the alcohol and emotions running high, you’re both feeling a tad drowsy.

he runs a hand through his dark locks. “this part of society — i think it’s exhausting, a lot of the time. full of noise, small talk that’s supposed to hide how cold half these people are, social pressure, all of that. but here, at home, it’s quiet. maybe a little too quiet. the thing is, i have my friends and family that i care about more than anyone else, but i still feel… hollow. like i’m missing something.”

you nod at him. “you can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely.”

“yeah.” he sighs. “do you feel it too?”

“well, i may not have a family, but i have my friends. and they mean so much to me, and i can talk to them if i need to, but… yeah. i feel it too.”

he wonders if you feel the same connection that he’s feeling right now. he’s drawn to you like a damn magnet.

mingyu already knows he’s a goner when he gently puts his hand on your cheek. he feels electrified by your presence, your voice, even the way you look at him.

he needs you.

“maybe we can be lonely together.”

his words are enough for your breath to hitch in your throat. you doubt you’ve ever wanted to have someone as much as you do now.

and so you cross a line you never thought you would and press your lips to his, desperately needing his touch.

the kiss is harsh but slow, as if you’re aching to taste eachother. his hand makes its way to the back of your head, the other on your back to pull you closer to him.

his heart might as well be lurching out of his chest. god, he feels that excitement and nervousness as if he were his teenage self sharing a first kiss with his crush — yet whatever feeling is clouding his mind is something darker and deeper, something that transcends what he can describe with words.

he kisses you like his life depends on it. once you’ve both pulled back to get some air, looking the other straight in the eye, it’s like you’re silently admitting that the relationship you share is more than just being partners.

it’s something that comes alarmingly close to love.

the moment is harshly interrupted when his phone rings. he blinks a few times before rolling his eyes at the timing, as he’s still half on top of you.

you can do nothing but wait underneath him as he takes the call, and when he closes his eyes and releases a sigh, you know it’s not positive.

“alright, thank you.” he says before hanging up, turning his focus to you. “the alarm at my apartment in the city was triggered. i gotta check it out, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you mutter out, suddenly unsure of how to talk to him now that you’ve crossed the line that you have.

but mingyu is much more straightforward. his gaze is warm and intense as it finds your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to stay here with you. so he shows you that.

just when your lips are about to touch again, he smirks, gently holding your chin. “i’ll be back for this.”

with those words, he catches his breath and gets up from the couch, after which he jogs down the stairs, and half a minute later, you hear the front doors open and close.

the sound allows you to release the breath you’ve been holding.

what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x

READ PART TWO HERE

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[mrs-kmikaelson]

What's in a Name?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader Summary: 5 times you and Agent Hotchner questionably cross paths over the years, just for him to watch you walk away (+1 time you don't). Warnings: long asf, murder, violence, addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, corruption in government, allusions to abuse, one made-up case, hotch is a lil ooc (not rlly), and reader has grey morals (lmk if there's more) Eps incl: S1E21 (secrets and lies), S3E20 (lo-fi), S4E1 (mayhem) Words: 24.4K

Masterlist | Bonus (no.6)

a/n: this is the longest fic i have ever written. guys, one section is literally 10k words long— and i didn't notice!! it's too long for one part (there's a 1k block limit on tumblr) so the bonus is linked above and at the bottom. it took me... a while. so i hope u enjoy! might do a part 2. also i'm only on s4 of cm rn (even tho i know too much alr) so pls don't spoil. ly guys!!

1. The myth

Quantico, Virginia, 2004

The interrogation room was cold and your fingers felt frozen against the metal of the table, but you doubted it had anything to do with the fact that it was December. If anything, you'd bet good money that as soon as you stepped out of the room, the heat would return. You'd bet good money that a certain Agent Hotchner sitting across from you had fucked with the AC unit.

Nonetheless, you didn't show your discomfort, keeping a poker face.

Well, as much of a poker face that you could keep.

You had a smile on your face, a twinkle in your eye. While you preferred not to spend time in police stations, this really was turning out to be quite interesting.

Agent Hotchner didn't seem to hold the same opinion as you. The frown on his face was unmoving, his expression stone cold. High-strung, you thought, and then you wondered what crazy things he might've seen to make him that way.

You turn to the man sitting next to him (the boy really), and asked, "Does he ever smile?" You pointed to the man in question to emphasize your point, even though it was clear as day who you were referring to.

Spencer, as you'd learned his name was, looked somewhat flustered at your question, like he wasn't expecting you to speak to him, but he ignored you regardless. You took that as a no. "Ms. Y/L/N, you're known throughout the United States and many other European countries as 'The Angel of Death.'" Your smile widened at your nickname. "They say that, as soon as you contact someone, they're as good as dead."

"Oh? Is that what they say?" Your voice was sly and teasing.

Spencer ignored you yet again. Rude. "You send them a message through various online media, and then they mysteriously turn up deceased."

"Do they?" you drawled.

The stoic and silent Agent Hotchner took this as his cue to speak up. "As of late, your existence has been nothing more than a rumour, an urban legend amongst criminals and internet sleuths. A myth."

You hummed.

"But your recent attempt on Congressman Baylor has failed. You got sloppy," he deadpanned. "You went for a fish bigger than you could handle, and now the myth is likely headed for life without parole unless you tell me who you're working for."

You were silent for a moment as you held his stare, and he thought that finally, he was getting somewhere with you, but then you broke that silence with a giggle so bubbly it was almost hard to believe you were assassin.

"That's cute," you remarked.

He narrowed his eyes. "What's cute?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "The fact that you think you can convict me."

It was Spencer this time that spoke up, his voice soft in comparison to the jagged edges of his partner's. Perhaps this job hadn't broken him yet, you thought. "Y/N, arrogance isn't gonna get you out of this."

You snorted. "No, trust me, this isn't arrogant. It's self-assured." You didn't give them a chance to get another thing in. "Tell me, what exactly has your technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, been able to dig up on me?" You saw slight alarm flare up in Agent Hotchner's eyes, surprise in Spencer's. "She's FBI, yeah, and you guys sure do like to play by the rules, but she isn't an agent like you, Hotchner. She must get impatient, bend the rules, perform some illegal activity that you don't question because it helps you with your case. That's why I'm a bit surprised that, even though she likely did run an illegal background on me, she didn't find my records. I mean, they're not that sealed. I bet I could unseal those bad boys right now."

He's lucky you didn't put money on that bet, because you would've won.

Aside from his eyes, no emotion other than irritation showed on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you poor sweet things." Another chuckle left you. "Have you ever heard of this little thing called immunity?"

Hotch was quick to dispute. "No. You do not have immunity."

You contested, "Oh, yes, sweetheart, I do. And if you had checked my pockets for anything other than a pistol, then perhaps you'd have noticed this." Since they hadn't cuffed you, you reached into your back pocket easily and pulled out your badge, the words Central Intelligence Agency catching their eyes immediately. 

Hotchner scoffed, the most emotion you'd seen from him since you met. "You're CIA?"

You cocked your head. "Y'know, for some of America's supposed best minds, I'm a little unimpressed."

Reid leaned forward in his seat. "You're—"

"Yes, I am. So your girl back at HQ seemed to miss a few details about me, and you have missed more than a few details about this case— if a case is even what you could call it." You stood up and rested your hands on the table, getting bored of this game already. "What you have, SSA Hotchner and Dr. Reid, is not a serial killer. I hope your victimology analysis picked this up already, but the quote-unquote victims you have are all bad people, people who have broken the law in irreparable ways. And when I say irreparable, I don't just mean Bill Clintoning it up with minors, despite many of them having done that. I mean selling government secrets, espionage, treason. Things that threaten national security, things that my bosses do not like. I'm sure you catch my drift, don't you?"

Before Agent Hotchner could respond, the door to the interrogation room was opening, and a smirk automatically arose on your face. About damn time. 

A man who you instantly recognized as Jason Gideon stood in the doorway. You briefly met once, but you doubt he remembered you. His face was stern, too, and reluctance shined through his voice. "Hotch, the Secretary of Defense is here, and the DOD is demanding she be released."

You maintained Hotch's stare all the while Gideon spoke. The clench in his jaw was small, but you caught it. Something told you this man didn't like to be challenged—you'd keep that in mind.

Eventually, he nodded.

You grabbed your coat from behind your chair, stowed your badge away and flashed them your million-dollar smile. "Well, it was nice meeting you, boys. Let's do this again sometime, yeah?"

Then you were out the door, and Hotch thought that if he went forever without seeing you, it'd still be too soon.

And when Congressman Baylor was found dead a few hours later, he wasn't surprised.

2. Smile

Langley, Virginia, 2006

"I've got the personnel files all set up for you guys. Video, whatnot—it's all there in the conference room. Now if you have any questions, feel free to talk to my senior officers. This is Gina Sanchez, she's the Associate Director of Field Operations. And that guy up there is Kruger Spence, the Assistant Director of Operations. The lady with him is his second-in-command, Olivia Hopkins. And then there's, of course, my boss."

Gideon's brows went up. "Your boss?" he echoed. The rest of the team's confusion was just as palpable. When he was brought in by Bruno Hawks to assist the CIA in finding their mole, he assumed he was the one running point. As far as he was concerned, Hawks didn't even have a boss that'd be there.

"Yes, she's flown in from an assignment to help with this case." Right on cue, you walked out of an office, heels clicking on the floor and the same smile on your face that Hotch could remember from two years ago. "Meet Director Y/N Y/L/N; she's head of a CIA black ops initiative and envoy from the NSA."

Your voice was smug. "Oh, trust me, Bruno, we've met before." This time, Hotch couldn't conceal his scoff. He felt Elle glance at him in confusion—she's the only one who didn't know who you were. "Agent Gideon, it's a pleasure to meet you formally." He shook your hand, albeit unenthusiastically. "Agent Hotchner, I knew I'd be seeing you again." He rolled his eyes, making your smile widen, but out of his strong urge to be polite above all other things, he shook your hand, too, pulling away as fast as he could. "Dr. Reid." He nodded back to you, almost hesitant. You nodded to the rest of them individually. "You two I haven't met, but you must be Derek Morgan and Elle Greenaway. I wish we had more time for pleasantries, but lives are on the line, so I'd like to get moving ASAP."

With that, you swiftly turned and walked back to the office you'd made your own. You didn't often spend time at headquarters, but a mole in the Agency was enough to pull you away from the case you'd been working previously.

As you left, you heard Reid explain to Elle in a hushed tone, "That was The Angel of Death."

You stifled a chuckle. Let's see if Agent Hotchner's team was as good as they claimed to be.

❧

You and Hotch stood on either side of Bruno on the platform as he spoke to the entire office, Gideon off standing alone, seemingly in thought. "Now, we all know why BAU and Ms. Y/L/N are here. They have their job and we have ours. And we're down to the wire on this. Aaliyah Nadir risked everything, and now she and her children deserve our fullest attention. Let's find her."

They all walked off after Bruno dismissed them, all but Gina Sanchez. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye as she went to talk to Agent Gideon. You didn't hear their conversation, but you saw the hostility painted all over her face. Interesting.

After she left, Gideon made his way over to where you were standing, speaking quietly. "We think the agent who's tipping off Hassan may have had some kind of extreme event in their life."

"Something that distorted or redefined their belief system," Hotch added.

Bruno was quick to get defensive. Why, you weren't sure. "No, every agent undergoes regular psych evals. You know that. They're trained to cope with extreme events"

"Well, whatever turned this agent must not've been something you can train for," you cut in. You didn't miss the way Hotch glanced at you.

Bruno gestured outward with his hands. "Well, you're welcome to everything I have. Every op undertaken by these guys is on file."

You snickered a bit under your breath. Your ops certainly weren't "on file."

"What about the ones that aren't on file, like the wiretaps of the Saudi Embassy?" Hotch questioned.

"Those don't even exist," Bruno said. You didn't confirm nor deny that statement.

"How long has your department been running operations in Riyadh?" Hotch turned to Bruno, back straight and eyes sharp.

"We have a declared presence in Riyadh, monitoring US interests there. You know that. Now if that's all, I have an informant to save." You hummed as Bruno walked off, finding his attitude quite intriguing.

"And you, Agent Y/L/N?" You turned to face Gideon. "What do you think?"

You tilted your head. "Aren't you and Bruno friends? Why not ask him?" Because he had the same feeling you have.

He responded without missing a beat. "You don't have a belief system—this job is all you believe in."

This caused you to chuckle. He wasn't wrong. "Good profiling, Agent Gideon. And yes, I have my suspicions, but until further information is gathered, I'm not at liberty to discuss them. For everyone's safety." You gave one last glance to Agent Hotchner. "I look forward to see what your team has brought together."

❧

Not long after your talk with Hotch and Gideon, you stood with the latter and Agent Greenaway in a supply office where the body of Olivia Hopkins was lying dead.

Gideon turned to you expectantly. "It's your job to clean house. You do this?"

You scoffed. "If I wanted to kill a CIA senior officer, believe me, you wouldn't have thought it was a murder at all." You glanced around the room you were in. "And I certainly wouldn't have done it in a federal building."

He must've believed you because he ended his line of questioning there, turning back to Elle. "Have any other agents seen the body?" When she shook her head, he replied, "Good. We can use this to our advantage. Get the others."

You met up with the rest of the BAU in their designated conference room as Gideon quickly explained the situation. Your suspects filed into the room shortly after, each confused and annoyed. You analyzed their body language closely, standing next to Agent Hotchner.

"You're pulling us away from our assignments?" questioned Kruger. "There's a woman out there whose life depends on us."

Defensive. Self-centred. Rude. But not your guy.

Gina was the first to ask where Olivia was, which was either genuine or she was covering her ass.

Hotch was the one to answer. "Olivia Hopkins was murdered 10 minutes ago. Her neck was snapped."

"Just like John Summers," you drawled.

Kruger let out a scoff, but you kept your eyes on the other two as he spoke. "What are you talking about?" Gina looked spooked, but Bruno's expression was cold, even as he tried to imitate warmth. "You're lying. Where is she?"

"Right now, she's dead," you emphasized, not really caring to be sensitive.

Kruger looked at you like you'd just killed his dog. "Look, people don't just... get murdered inside the CIA."

Gina looked at him with betrayal in her eyes as if he were a traitor. Shifting blame.

Hawks spoke up. "I realize the enormity of this, but Hassan Nadir is still out there looking to kill his wife, and I need every agent on this." You tilted your head. Deflecting. He didn't even acknowledge that his own colleague, his responsibility, was dead.

Gina was the first to leave the room, deeply frazzled. Gideon followed after Hawks, but you didn't go with him. You stayed in the room with Hotch while the rest of his team filed out.

You weren't expecting him to talk to you, let alone ask for your opinion, but he did. "What are you thinking, Y/L/N?"

You hid your surprise, nodding to the door Gina and Kruger walked out of. "My money's not on her; it's not on Kruger, either."

He furrowed his brows, lowering his voice. "You think Bruno Hawks is the mole?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "Bruno's been leading this unit for all of, what, ten years? And he hasn't advanced at all? Someone like him must have higher ambitions, like leading the Agency one day, but that's not in his cards. Gina Sanchez and Kruger Spence have bright futures here; Hawks is already at the end of the line. So what's the next best thing in this city besides power?"

Realization dawned upon him. "Money."

"And by the looks of the old car he drives, that's something he's lacking, but something that he wants," you deduced, pausing. "But I'll let you continue your investigation."

He caught your hand just as you turned away, and you ignored the small spark that was sent through your body. His eyes were earnest and curious, but most of all you realized that they were beautiful. "Y/N, what's going to happen to the mole when we find them?"

You ignore the unfamiliar flutter you felt after he said your name for the first time, and it's then that you remember Hotch was a prosecutor. Before he was unit chief Agent Hotchner, he was just Aaron Hotchner, a man who valued balance and believed in justice. Even now, after climbing the ladder, he still didn't seem to understand that his own government was different.

In matters like these, the United States government didn't value justice.

They valued revenge.

But still, if not just to help him retain his faith in his country, you shrugged and told him, "The scales will be evened, Hotchner." 

Then you pulled your wrist out of his light grip and walked away, and he couldn't tell if he wanted to know what you meant.

❧

Sanchez and Morgan were on their way to rescue Aaliyah and her children, and then you were made aware that Hassan was already there.

Bruno turned to Gideon. "Look, we can't arrest him. This is still a CIA matter. You do know that?" He then turned to you, like he was expecting to you to back him up.

You shook your head as Gideon said what you were thinking. "How are you going to explain this to the Saudi government?"

"Explain what?" he fired back. "This isn't happening."

You crossed your arms. "That's not how this works, Bruno. You don't just kill a Saudi diplomat and get away with it—that is how wars begin."

He scoffed at you. "Look who's talking. The Angel of Death, giving me a lecture on in-house cleaning."

You narrowed your eyes and stepped forward. "I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to right now, but you need to double back because, at the end of the day, what I. say. goes."

Bruno opened his mouth to argue, but Jason mediated, "Let's just get Aaliyah and her children back alive. We'll worry about Hassan's life after."

You gave Bruno one last hard stare before you turned back to the screen showing the Nadirs with Morgan and Gina outside. "Make the arrest, Morgan," Gideon called out. "It's FBI jurisdiction. You're in charge."

You listened to them over the comms. [FBI! Let the lady go and put the gun down. I said, put the gun down!]

The movement of heat on the screen told you that Hassan listened. [Diplomatic immunity, my friend], he said, and you chuckled.

[Uh-uh, you got it wrong, my friend. This container hasn't passed through customs. Officially, we're not on US soil. Summers was a smart man.]

Suddenly, you heard Gina's voice. [That he was.] Pause. [Drop the gun.]

The feed cut in and out as the figures moved out of the container. Confused, you called out, "Morgan, Sanchez, what's going on?"

Hawks turned to you and Gideon, and you wanted to wipe the smug look right off his face. "You two still certain that Gina isn't the mole?"

Gideon ignored him. "Morgan." No answer. "Morgan, what's going on?"

[Gideon, we got a situation here.]

You raised your voice. "Gina, don't do this. Do not do this."

"She doesn't take orders from you," Bruno snided. 

You took another step forward to him. "Listen here, asshole—"

Gina cut in, [Bruno, what do you want me to do?]

"Gina, you put down that gun. That is an order—"

[Bruno?]

This made you turn to Bruno, and if you were in an animation, smoke must've been coming out of your ears. "Hawks, I swear to god, if you don't stand down, you will be endangering the security of this country—"

Bruno only responded to Gina. "You know what to do."

[Say it!]

"This is not your call. It is not your fucking call, Bruno."

He finally turned to you. "This is strictly in-house and you know it."

"I don't give a damn. It is still not. your. call."

"Finish him."

"Gina, don't you dare do this."

[You're going to cut the visual feed, right, Bruno?]

"Of course. Cut it now. Cut it," he ordered, and the feed was off before you could even protest.

And then you heard four gunshots. 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. White hot anger rushed through your veins in contrast to your normal playful demeanour. Meanwhile, Bruno turned to Gideon, saying, "I want to thank you, Jason, for your help."

You stayed quiet as Gideon responded, too angry to speak. "Why?" He paused, genuine disbelief evident in his tone. "Why'd you turn against everything you believe in?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When someone asks you how you feel about... losing one of your colleagues, the only human answer is 'I feel guilty,' isn't it?"

Bruno nodded and mocked, "But as you so brilliantly deduced, Kruger Spence is the guilty one." Following that statement, you watched as Elle walked up to where you three stood, a tiny paper in hand that she gave to him. Based on the ignorant smile that graced his face upon reading it, you could guess what it said. "Ridiculous," he deflected, tucking the paper into his jacket pocket. "Absurd."

That's when you snapped out of your anger-induced stupor. "No, Bruno." You shook your head. "The only thing that's absurd is how arrogant you are to believe that you're getting away with this."

Bruno pursed his lips, flashing you a sarcastic smile. "Unfortunately, with Hassan now dead, you have no proof."

"Oh, you son of a—"

Dr. Reid cut you off, announcing to everyone, "Actually, Hassan is alive and well. He's en route—that's all the proof we'll need." At this, you let out a chuckle. You certainly didn't need that proof, but it was nice to prove Hawks wrong before he was sent to where he deserved to be.

He clenched his jaw, stepping closer to Gideon instead of you, likely because he knew he couldn't shake you. "You are a fool if you think they're going to put me in prison with all that I know." He glanced at you and your lips quirked upward, because this was true.

"Why'd you have to kill Olivia?" Elle interrogated. She was straight to the point; you liked her. 

"Economics," Gideon replied, staring straight at Bruno. "Olivia was looking into your financial records when you snapped her neck."

Elle scoffed under her breath. "So she knew your dirty little secret."

"Which one?" Bruno asked. "I have so many."

You stepped closer to the trio. "The one that involves you cashing out through Hassan, maybe buying a real Rolex instead of the fake you don so proudly."

You could see Bruno's façade cracking, his frustration leaking through. "Twenty-million from Hassan will go a very long way to help occupy my mind on a beach somewhere."

Gideon wasn't fazed. "The only beach you'll see is on a postcard I send you from my vacation. Let me have your gun."

Knowing there was no way out of this, Bruno did what he said willingly, but he still had to taunt. "You know, I think the consequences of what you're doing to me, my friend, are going to be a lot harder to live with than you think."

Jason stared at him without blinking, and he stared until Bruno walked out, escorted by agents left and right of him. You found it comical, that petty thieves were escorted to the back of police cars in chains, yet a man who nearly started a war could walk out freely.

Well, you supposed Bruno Hawks wouldn't be free for much longer.

And it was your job to see to that.

❧

You were packing up your things in your office when a knock sounded. You turned to see a raven-haired man in a suit standing there, a hand in his pocket. A grin came to your face. "Agent Hotchner," you greeted. "Congrats on solving the case."

He let out a chuckle that surprised you. Aaron Hotchner didn't look like a man who laughed often. "Yeah, well, thank you, but I have a feeling you knew from the beginning."

Your grin widened. "Ah, I just needed proof." You continued to pack your things. "And besides, I wanted to see what your team was capable of."

He hummed, and you thought he'd leave after that, but he stayed, looking around the room with a careful interest. "No pictures," he noted. "No personal artifacts. It's extremely clean in here—untouched, almost. How much time do you spend here?"

You fully turned to him after that, giving him your full attention. With comments like those, that must've been what he was after. You crossed your arms, but the smile never left your face. "Perceptive, Hotchner," you remarked. "Profiling me now?"

He shook his head. "Not profiling, just observing."

Now it was your turn to hum, looking him up and down. You found that you liked what you saw, visually, but the implications to what you saw weren't very fond. "Well, what I observe, is an accomplished man in a nice suit, but you don't wear that suit because you're unit chief, you wear it because you got used to it as a prosecutor and now it makes you feel on top of things... professional. You're stiff and stoic, but that's because you like to separate your work life from your home life. At home, with your wife and kid, you're lively and relaxed, but that's also to compensate for the fact that this job takes a lot out of you; you're not home often, and that puts a strain on your marriage, which is why you haven't called your wife once today." Your voice was soft as you delivered that final blow. Hotch looked both uncomfortable and, surprisingly, impressed. But thus far, nothing about Aaron Hotchner was what you were used to. "Tell me, Agent Hotchner, was I correct?"

Hotch lightly snorted, but he didn't answer. Instead, he took to staring right back at you. You'd been stared at by bad men, murderers, rapists, terrorists and the like, but for some reason, his stare bothered you. You turned back around and packed one last thing into your bag. Then you walked toward the door, stopping just before you made your exit like an invisible barrier was holding you back. 

You patted his shoulder, telling him, "You should smile more, Hotchner. It'd suit you."

And then Aaron watched you leave for the second time in his life, except this time—for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom—he hoped he'd see you again.

3. The games we play

Washington, D.C., 2007

The air in Washington was always crisp. There was something different about it—like you could smell the power in the air, like you feel it. When you were home, in your apartment, it was suffocating. There was enough politics in this city that you could drown in it, politics you didn't care for. You saw enough of it as is.

Nevertheless, you weren't home often, so it wasn't too troublesome. Today, however, you were home, except you weren't here to rest.

You stepped out of your Mercedes as soon as you parked, locking the car and walking straight into the alleyway. Men in blue stood in your path, hands out. "Ma'am, this is a crime scene—"

You wordlessly held up your badge, effectively shutting him up. With red climbing up his neck, he nodded and lifted up the yellow tape for you.

When you made it past them, there was a woman in a red dress there. She'd be beautiful, you thought, if she weren't sprawled out dead on the ground. Her dress was so dark you almost couldn't see the blood stain. 

But the blood pooled around her was a telltale.

Next to her body was a card with typed-out letters and numbers that appeared random. 

But you knew better than that.

There was a woman taking photographs of the scene and a detective analyzing it. He was just as confused as those officers when you showed up. "Excuse me, who are you?"

You gave him a short smile. "Detective Walker, I wish we could've met under better circumstances. I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You held one hand out and simultaneously held up the other with your badge. "I've been instructed to take over this case."

He furrowed his brows. "I'm sorry, Ms. Y/L/N, but I've already alerted—"

"Detective Walker."

At that, you screwed your eyes shut and cursed under your breath. You recognized that voice—hell, you recognized the sound of his footsteps. And he was exactly what you didn't need.

Composing yourself, you spun around with your signature smile. "SSA Hotchner."

Hotch looked momentarily stunned at your being there, but that was quickly wiped away. "Y/N. What are you doing here?"

"Well, if you mean in the city, I live here. And if you mean at this scene, then that's because it's mine." You paused, letting that soak in. "This is my case."

Confusion was visible on his face. For a second, you thought it was cute. "No, this is a BAU case. Series of murders, victimizing high-level escorts—forgive me, but I don't see why this would require a CIA presence."

Of course, you don't, you thought, but for once, you didn't say what you were thinking. Instead, you explained, "I understand that 4 women have died in the past week, but believe me, Agent Hotchner, that is not the case I'm here to solve." When his brows knitted together, you elaborated, "These women are not the targets of these attacks."

"What do you mean?" 

You sighed, pointing over to the woman's body. "See that card over there?"

"Yeah, it's the unsub's signature."

"No, it's more than that. It's not a way for him to get off; it's not something he does compulsively. It is a taunt," you stressed. "Those letters aren't random. They're part of a code."

"A code to what?"

"A code to an NSA file recording every single undercover operation the United States has in foreign countries." Like your words were a vacuum, they sucked anything lighthearted out of the atmosphere—if there was any to begin with—and left tension in their wake. "6 high-level analysts have parts of that code. I'm guessing that 4 of them are already dead." You glanced back at the dead body before looking back at Hotch. "The unsub isn't a serial killer, Agent Hotchner. He's a traitor with a mission to annihilate everything in his wake."

❧

After looking at the scene, you sent Detective Walker away, telling him it wasn't personal but this case was too sensitive to be worked by local police. They didn't have the clearance nor did they have the means to help. You asked him to send you all of his evidence, and he complied easily, but someone wasn't so easily persuaded.

"You're going to need help."

You snorted. "Thank you, but I think I'll do just fine without it." Just as you reached your car, Hotch grabbed your wrist. 

You turned around, but before you could say anything, he spoke. "You could use my team, and you know it."

Your eyes ever so slightly narrowed. "All due respect, Agent Hotchner, but this is above your pay grade."

He held your stare for a few seconds until you saw his jaw tense. He glanced to the side before he exasperatedly muttered, "Please, Y/N." He looked up at you. "I want to help with this case."

Unknowingly, you straightened your back. Aaron Hotchner surprised you more and more each time you saw him. The corners of your lips curved upward, but something about your smile was more sincere. "You're not a man who says please much, are you?"

He rolled his eyes and neglected to answer. "Does that mean you'll accept our help?"

You paused. Was that what you meant? Your mouth didn't correspond with your brain as you replied, "I'm running point on this." Hotch's shoulders imperceptibly relaxed and he nodded. "I'll tell Detective Walker to send his stuff over to the BAU. I'll meet you there to brief your team." You turned away before you could see him nod a second time.

You don't know why you said yes, but you did. On the drive over, you told yourself it was because he was right, you could use some extra hands, and it helped that the BAU were good at what they did.

Yes, that's why I didn't send him away. 

You didn't explore any other option.

❧

Hotch got to the BAU before you but waited for you to arrive before walking into the building. To make sure you got to the right place, you reasoned. 

You went through the typical security procedure: removed your guns, walked through the metal detector, and showed your ID. In the elevator, you cracked a couple jokes that he didn't laugh at, asshole, but you nearly caught him slipping at one.

"This city's so damn power-hungry that even the serial killers would prefer a fucking computer code over sex. What a nerd. Hey, how often does that happen in your line of work, Hotchner?" You turned your head for his response when you saw his lips twitching.

You let out a dramatic gasp. "Agent. Hotchner. Are you..." you lowered your voice, a devious smile crawling to your lips. "smiling?"

His efforts to suppress his little smile failed after that. "Let's focus on the case, Y/L/N."

"Sureeee," you drawled. The elevator dinged and opened. "Better be careful, Agent. I might just start thinking you have a soul."

He shook his head at you and walked out of the elevator ahead of you so that you couldn't see him as a full smile graced his face. However, once you got to the conference, Hotch erased any sign of that smile and walked in full-stride.

You gave the room a cursory glance, duly noting that they must've spent a lot of time in here. You noticed immediately afterward that some faces were missing, and on the other hand, some new ones had appeared.

You followed Hotch to the front of the room in front of their TV. 

"Everyone, this is Director Y/N Y/L/N from the CIA. She'll be leading this case—and as some of you may recall, she's already worked with us on an investigation about a year ago," he announced, subsequently gesturing around the table. "Y/N, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, SSA David Rossi, our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau, and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

You nodded, smiling at them. "It's nice to meet you all—"

"You're— you're her."

You turned to the blonde with pink highlights that'd cut you off, Penelope, and furrowed your brows. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh my god, you're her," she whispered, her eyes wide and her face awestruck. "You're The Angel of Death."

You held back a laugh. "That is what people to tend to call me, yes."

She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly before eventually blurting, "I— you're an icon. I've read some of your code before in snippets, and it's beautiful. And, I mean, when you can code like that and then do what you do, it's no wonder that the government would want you all to themselv—"

"Garcia." At Hotch's command, Penelope's mouth snapped shut and snickers were heard around the table. "We are here to work," he told her, trying to be serious, but you could hear the amusement hiding behind his tone.

"Yes— yes, Sir. Work. Working," she said, but her eyes remained trained on you even as she spoke.

Morgan laughed, swivelling his chair toward you. "Sorry, angel. She gets a little..." he twirled his finger next to his head, "Comicon-y whenever things involve computers."

This snapped her out of her trance and made her whip around to point her finger at him. "You better shut it, Morgan, before I show everyone those pictures of you at Comicon with me."

His smile dropped. "Babygirl, you wouldn't."

"Oh, yes, sugar, I would."

Hotch exasperatedly cut their very entertaining banter off. "Work."

"Morgan, you've been to Comicon?" Without even looking at him, you could hear the smirk in the man's words.

"Leave it, Rossi. You heard the bossman: we've got work," he changed the subject, but based on the fiery look being sent his way by Reid and the teasing one by Emily, you'd bet that this conversation wasn't over.

Hotch signalled for you to start, so you stepped forward, got a little more serious for his sake, and began, "The serial killer you've been phoned in on is not a serial killer. The women he's killed are unfortunately collateral damage to a much bigger problem." Behind you, pictures of the paper left next to the bodies appear on screen. "The unsub is going after high-level members of the NSA who have fragments of a specific code. He's been leaving those fragments at the crime scenes. So far, he has 4—there are only 2 more. Once he gets the last two, it'll only be a matter of time before he's able to unlock a classified file, detailing every undercover op we have or have had in other countries."

The room was quiet. Morgan was the first to question, "So, he's a whistleblower?"

"No, not necessarily. Given his M.O. and need to taunt us with these papers, his goal isn't to expose the government—it's only a stepping stone to what he truly wants, which is chaos."

Emily spoke up next. "Well, he's clearly a narcissist, and he's sadistic at that. Otherwise, he wouldn't have killed these women like this."

Dr. Reid nodded, keeping his eyes on the file in front of him. "Craves control, finds a way to manipulate the situation and mold it into what he wants it to be." He looked up, talking with his hands while explaining, "Narcissists are devoted to themselves and will further themselves in whatever way possible. They lack empathy and find enjoyment in causing others pain, stemming from their grandiose sense of self-importance. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were drawn in and obsessed with Nietzsche's idea of Übermenschen, supermen who possessed such high intelligence that it put them above the law. They later confessed to the police that they sought to commit 'perfect crime.' This unsub is likely suffering from the same sense of entitlement."

Rossi tipped his pen at him, agreeing, "Yeah, he's arrogant and he believes he can get away with this, hence the taunting. All he wants is to feed his ego, but he hides behind the whistleblower façade to absolve himself of blame."

"And he's impatient," Derek added. "4 bodies in one week. We don't have much time before he strikes again."

"No, we don't," you said. The screen changed to display the pictures of two men. "The last two people with the code are Malik Hussein and Ethan Torrie. I believe he'll go after Ethan first; he's in D.C. for this big gala tonight. That's where the unsub will make his move."

Emily looked between you and Hotch, almost as if she was unsure who she was addressing her question to. "So what's our plan?"

You, too, glanced at Hotch before looking back at her, splaying your hands out in front of yourself. "Well, we only have one course of action: wait for the unsub to approach Ethan."

Unexpectedly, Hotch interrupted you, saying, "Y/N and I will go in undercover." What? You held yourself back from widening your eyes and whipping your head around. "The rest of you will be waiting for our signal. Garcia, can you get us on the guest-list?"

"Already on it, Sir."

He nodded, firing orders away, "Alright, Morgan and Prentiss, I want you both to go back to the crime scenes. Talk to the owners of the establishments, bartenders, doormen—anybody who could've seen the unsub leave the building with the victims. Garcia, consult with CCTV footage. Rossi and Reid, I want you looking at his M.O. and why he didn't leave the men there with the women. JJ, contact The Post and tell them not to run the latest murder; it's imperative we keep this and the unsub's true motives out of the press. Y/N and I will go over tonight's plan."

They all voiced their confirmations and, like clockwork, filed out of the room until it was just you and Hotch left standing. The air suddenly got heavier—with what, you had no idea.

It felt different, old and new all at the same time, like everything and nothing you'd ever felt before. You couldn't pinpoint it, couldn't describe it.

Growing bored of the silence, you raised a brow, repeating, "'Y/N and I will go undercover?'"

Hotch, who was in the middle of collecting his things, paused and raised a brow of his own, turning to face you. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

You looked him up and down, taking your time and not bothering to be subtle about it. After a moment, you responded, "No." A smirk slowly came to your face. "Let's go over that plan."

He maintained his stare for a few seconds, reminding you of when you met. Eventually, he nodded and got to it. All the while, your mind ran rampant—but not with the case.

Agent Hotchner continued to surprise you.

And you'd be sure to return the favour.

❧

After planning for hours, you and Hotch came up with a decent story. He'd be going as himself. You'd pretend you were his girlfriend, his tag-along for the party, with a fake identity. His presence would make sense, but if people found out Y/N Y/L/N was there, they'd start to wonder things that this plan couldn't afford.

Your name wasn't widely known, nor was your face, but at a party like this, you had to be careful.

That's what you explained to Hotch.

"I don't understand. Nobody knows who you are. Not even Garcia could figure out who you really were when we met." He furrowed his brows in confusion.

You sighed, "There's going to be a lot of powerful people there, Hotchner. Everybody knows The Angel of Death, but there are some big fish in Washington that know she's Y/N."

This seemed to confuse him more. You surmised that he didn't like not knowing things. "Why do you say it like that—say your name as if it's not your name?" 

You gave him a look.

His eyes widened. And for the second time that day, you found yourself thinking that Aaron Hotchner was cute. "It's not your name?"

"Why do you think Penelope had such a hard time finding my credentials?" you inquired. You went on before he could answer. "I take it she didn't find my records at The Academy, either. She found that I went to Caltech, but she didn't find yearbook photos or my social media. She found that I grew up in Massachusetts, that my parents are dead, that I was born in '79. But otherwise, I'm a ghost, aren't I?" Your voice was somewhat playful.

Hotch didn't seem to find the humour in what you were saying.

"So everything about you is a lie." It wasn't a question.

Your eyes glinted with amusement. You leaned in to where he sat across from you on the other side of the table. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that Agent Hotchner stiffened. "'Nothing more than a rumour, an urban legend amongst criminals and internet sleuths. A myth,'" you whispered. "Does that sound familiar?"

He didn't respond.

"As you said, Agent Hotchner, I am a myth. I am not meant to exist. So find me another identity and show me that you're up for the task before this entire plan is derailed by a name."

Your memory was cut off by a knock at your door. You swiped your lipstick across your lips and they immediately quirked upward right after.

You took your time getting the door. Whether Agent Hotchner realized it or not—or rather, whether he was willing to admit it or not—this was a game. And you were nothing if not a damn good player.

Without knowing it, he started it when he picked you up off the street that day in '04. He moved another piece on the board when he walked into your office in '06. And then he asked to work on this case.

It didn't matter what he thought about you or what your name really was. All that mattered was the next move.

You opened the door and his eyes immediately widened on their own accord. They travelled down your body, tracing the outline of the red dress you'd picked out, finding the slit on the side. But this was all within a split-second.

In the blink of an eye, his eyes were back on yours. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would've missed it. He was hoping you did.

But you didn't.

You did, however, miss his ears going red when you turned around, leaving the door open as an invitation inside. 

"You're wearing a suit," you noted, smirking. "How out of character for you."

You heard the door shut, and then footsteps behind you. "Funny, Y/N."

You chuckled. "Please, I know you think I'm hilarious."

He lightly shook his head as you stood in front of your mirror, putting on your earrings. He took that moment to look around your apartment, eyes scanning over your living room. No pictures anywhere, no plants or art. You had a couch, but no television. He glanced to the adjoining kitchen. There was an espresso machine, but he was willing to bet that if he checked your fridge, it'd be empty. 

"You can stop trying to profile my apartment," you informed him, still adding the finishing touches to your outfit. "I don't stay here often."

"I can tell."

He watched as you picked up your heels then went to sit on the couch to put them on. He tried not to let his eyes wander, instead trying to look around the room some more, but even without having his eyes on you, he still couldn't get your picture out of his head.

Distractedly, he heard you absentmindedly ask, "Hey, whatever happened to Gideon and Greenaway?"

He looked at you to respond, seeing you get up. "Things with the job. Certain cases take more of a toll on others." He didn't explain that Elle spiralled or that Gideon lost everything he held dear. He preferred not to think about it.

You tilted your head. "Did things happen with you, too?"

He didn't answer, instead opting to suggest, "Let's go over the case one more time."

You nodded and let him get away with it.

Hotch schooled his expression. "You're Deirdre Carter. You're a CPA. We met years ago on a work conference but hit it off recently. We've been dating for five months."

"Dating," you repeat.

His brows furrowed. "Yes." He didn't understand why you were hung up on it until he saw you glance down at his hand. It's then that he realized he was still wearing his ring. "Oh."

Your voice got softer, and you didn't know if that was part of the game or not. "Look, Hotchner, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can do this solo."

"No—" he sighed, looking down at the ring he'd worn everyday for years on end. "I'm divorced. I guess I just wear it out of habit," he revealed.

"Oh."

He took it off and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "Let's head out," he said. You nodded, leading him out.

And you didn't mention the ring again.

❧

Once you got to the building, you met Derek, who was in a secuirty uniform, at the front. He momentarily disabled the metal detector for you so that the guns on your thigh and in Hotch's boot weren't caught.

In the hall, the music played ceremoniously, an orchestra of jazz players working tirelessly to entertain D.C.'s wealthiest and most powerful. The President would be making an appearance later. You hoped to get this done and get out of here before that happened.

Your eyes found Torrie within a minute, subtly signalling his location to Hotch. He was by the bar, a redhead on his arm. The two of you went that way.

He ordered you drinks at the bar that he wouldn't drink, but as soon as your martini was in front of you, you were picking it up and taking a sip.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, talking through his teeth. "We don't drink on the job."

You smirked at him. "You don't drink on the job. I'm just keeping up appearances." You then took the olive and bit into it. For some reason, you enjoyed getting under Hotchner's skin.

He rolled his eyes at you, likely about to reprimand you again, but a voice in your ears stopped him. "Do the two of you have eyes on Torrie?"

Hotch turned to you and brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek. To those surrounding you, he was just a man caressing his girlfriend—hell, the leap in your chest told you that you nearly bought it. But you knew he did this so that the mic hidden in his sleeve would be at your mouth. You held his stare, a sweet smile gracing your face as you replied to Rossi, "Yes. By the bar."

"Good. Prentiss is on the floor with the ambassador if you need her."

You leaned into Hotch, too, running your hands down his suit jacket while he glanced around for Emily. "Got it."

The next voice you heard was Garcia's. "Hello, my lovelies, I am watching you on camera. Hotch, to your left is the door through which you'll take our bad guy. It's being guarded by Reid and JJ as we speak."

You lowly thanked her, to which she stammered out a "you're welcome." Hotch took his hand away from your face and you removed yours from his chest, cursing the part of yourself that missed his touch.

If you weren't on a case, you'd have thought more about how pretty his eyes were.

The music suddenly changed, becoming a slow song. Your eyes darted behind Hotch to see Ethan and his date making their way to the dance floor. You downed the rest of your martini then grabbed onto his hand, wordlessly pulling him to the floor.

You felt him lightly tense when you put your hands around his neck. "Relax," you whispered. "Just go with it."

At that, he eased up, wrapping his hands around your waist. You moved to the beat of the song, taking control of your dance while he kept a close eye on Torrie. No one had approached them yet, you gathered.

The dance came easy to you, too easy, like it'd been rehearsed or like it was something you'd been doing all your life. Your feet moved synchronously like they had a mind of their own. You didn't have to think about it—it just happened.

It was funny, almost. The stiff and stoic Aaron Hotchner could dance. Your mind went back to when he smiled in the elevator earlier. It made you wonder what he was like before. Before he was a profiler or unit chief.

You know you were different before you were in this life, before you became Y/N.

You wondered what would've happened if you met back then, when you were just you and he was just him.

And just as soon as you started wondering, you no longer wanted to think about it. Instead, you asked him, "Did you ever think you and I would be dancing together like this when we met?"

He glanced down at you then looked away. "No." A ghost of a smirk came to his lips. "I thought I'd be putting you behind bars."

You chuckled. "I know. It was quite entertaining."

"To you, maybe." He glanced down at you again. "I don't like being blindsided."

"Oh, I know." When he glanced down at you this time, he saw your eyes twinkling. "That is precisely why it was so entertaining, Agent Hotchner."

He chuckled under his breath, and something in you fluttered. "You're something else, Y/L/N."

You hummed, murmuring, "And don't I know it?"

He was gonna say something else but then something in his expression changed. He was back to stoic, eyes hardening. You straightened your back and stopped dancing. "7 o'clock," he muttered.

You unwound your hands from his neck, turning around to see a man beelining at Torrie from across the room. But if you had your way, which you would, then he wouldn't make it to Ethan at all.

With Hotch hot on your heels, you headed his way, moving through the crowd effortlessly. Just before he was about to reach them, you inconspicuously unholstered your gun from your thigh and pressed it against his back, stopping him in his tracks.

Hotch caught up to you, standing to the side and obstructing the view. "Careful, friend. I wouldn't want to shoot you in front of all these people, but I will." As a warning, you clicked the safety off. 

The man tensed as Hotch grabbed his arm. Your voice was sweet in comparison to your sour words. "Now, you're gonna follow him or I'm gonna pump you full of lead. Capisce?" Neither you nor Hotch waited for a response, leading him towards the side doors that Garcia had notified you of.

Upon getting there, Reid and JJ opened the doors without a word and closed them immediately after you'd gone through them.

As soon as the doors closed, the unsub twisted Hotch's arm, prompting him to yelp. Simultaneously, he knocked the gun out of your hand, sending it thudding across the floor. 

He shoved you against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Meanwhile, Hotch threw a punch his way. A crack resounded through the hallway followed by the unsub growling. He threw a punch back that Hotch narrowly dodged, but in one quick motion, he pulled Hotch's tie, catching him off guard.

In a flash, he had Hotch in a chokehold, fighting for breath. You acted quickly, reaching for the knife sheathed on your thigh, running up behind the ubsub and holding it to his throat, causing him to go rigid.

"Let him go or I slit your fucking throat," you spat.

He didn't ease his hold, making you bring the knife closer, knicking him. "I said, let. him. go."

Begrudgingly, he let Hotch go, who was gasping for breath. You let him catch his bearings for a moment, but you had to alert him, "Hotchner, the cuffs."

He coughed but nodded, grabbing the cuffs from his pocket. You took them from him, shoving the unsub against the wall just as he did to you and pulling his arms behind him. You wrapped the cuffs around his wrists and tightened them until you heard him grunt.

"In case you didn't get the memo, you're under arrest, asshole."

Knowing this would never reach a courtroom, you didn't read him his rights or tell him what he was being arrested for. He knew.

Where he was going, he'd never forget it.

❧

You and Hotch stood to the side in an alley after you'd shoved the unsub into the back of a black sedan, watching the car drive off. 

"I know that you're just itching to interrogate him," you commented, your voice echoing in the night. "But trust me, that's somebody else's job now." You felt Hotch's eyes on you, but you didn't look at him.

His stare burned into the side of your head. "That wasn't a cop car," he said.

"No," you finally looked back at him. "it wasn't."

"Who was driving that car?"

"A CIA agent."

"And where is he going now?"

"To pay for his crimes," you slowly answered, narrowing your eyes. "Stop worrying about it."

He stepped closer to you. "He should be doing that in a federal prison, with a sentence decided by a judge and a jury. The families of those analysts, those women— they deserve closure."

You shook your head, an incredulous laugh leaving you. "You still don't get it, do you?" Your voice was teasing, but your undertone was hard and serious. "A trial means telling a bunch of people, including civilians, about ops that are not meant to exist. It's just not gonna happen."

Hotch kept staring at you for what felt like forever but was really only a few seconds, giving you the urge to squirm under his gaze. For some reason, you didn't like the way he was looking at you. Finally, he looked away, exhaling, "It's not right, Y/N."

Somewhere, deep inside, you felt a pang. You touched his shoulder, softly telling him, "You should know better than anyone that the law isn't about right and wrong." 

He still didn't look at you.

You sighed. "Thank you for your help, Agent Hotchner." You patted his shoulder one last time and then left the alley, walking through the door you came out of and, in doing so, you felt something change. 

The game was over.

You just couldn't tell who won.

By the time Aaron had noticed this change, he tried to follow you, but when he opened the door only to see an empty hallway, he realized it was too late.

You were gone.

And he didn't know why that disappointed him so much.

4. Unpredictable

New York, New York, 2008

Whenever Aaron was in New York, he liked to pick up good coffee and eat good food. But as he stood over a dead man's corpse, he felt his appetite vanish.

He and his team stood at the crime scene, analyzing it. It was different, but he couldn't shake the feeling that everything about these murders were different. There was something off about them, and he couldn't figure out exactly what it was.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black car pull up next to the yellow tape, the Mercedes logo glinting in the light. He furrowed his brows then shook his head, thinking better of it. Stop thinking about her.

"Uniforms are rounding up witnesses."

Detective Cooper and Brustin's arrival made him look away from the car and toward them instead. "Doesn't sound like anyone got a clean look," Cooper said.

Morgan looked up at the security camera that should've caught everything but in reality caught nothing useful. "It's over in a flash," he remarked. "He's probably gone before anyone even realizes what's happening."

Right beside him, Kate asked, "Is this what it felt during the Son of Sam?"

Just as Brustin was about to answer, a new voice sounded from behind them. "Son of Sam is the least of your worries." His breath hitched. They all turned around, and Hotch instantly realized that he was right: that car was yours—and now you stood right in front of him.

You gave him a glance but then your eyes were back on Kate. "What you should be focused on is another 9/11."

Kate lightly scoffed. "My apologies— who are you?" 

"Y/N Y/L/N, CIA," you introduced yourself, flashing your badge. Recognition briefly flickered through her eyes. "And you must Kate Joyner, head of New York's field office." To be polite, you held out your hand, and she reluctantly shook it. "I'm here as the Agency's delegate, and I'll also be representing Homeland Security for the time being."

"Homeland Security?" You looked to Morgan. "It's nice to see you again, angel, but what does Homeland Security have to do here?"

You went to answer, but Joyner cut you off, "I'll ask the questions, Agent Morgan, thank you." Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, and a quick look at Derek told you that his did, too, but then Kate was looking at you again, waiting for you to answer.

Your mind was brought back to the situation at hand. You glanced at Hotch once more to see he was already looking at you, but then you looked away. "I have reason to believe that this guy is more than a serial killer. In fact, I have reason to believe this is more than one guy."

Kate crossed her arms. "What are you suggesting?"

Every time Hotch had seen you, no matter how serious the situation was, you were lighthearted, amused, knowing you'd come out on top. But this time, your voice was devoid of its usual playfulness as you disclosed to them a fact that changed their entire investigation.

"If I'm right, Agent Joyner, then we're dealing with terrorists."

❧

Once the initial shock from your revelation died down, you told them that you'd explain everything back at the field office. Unexpectedly, Morgan asked to ride back with you and you obliged, figuring his company wasn't too bad.

Hotch stared at you the entire time as you got in the car, and he continued to stare at you until you sped out of sight.

You didn't look back once.

"So, terrorism, huh?"

You glanced at Derek and smirked, finding that playful nature again. "I told you, I'd explain at the Bureau."

He shook his head at you, a similar smirk on his face, then he quizzed, "Hey, did Hotch happen to tell you why Joyner's giving me attitude?"

You furrowed your brows as you came to a stop light, turning toward him. "What makes you think I've talked to him?"

Derek snorted. "Please, every time I've seen the two of you together, you're all flirty—even when he was still with Haley."

"So what? I've flirted with Spencer before—doesn't mean I wanted to get into his pants," you defended.

His smirk widened. "I never said you wanted to get into the boss' pants."

"You insinuated it."

"Why, angel? Do you want to get into his pants?"

You deadpanned, "No, I do not." Despite yourself, you couldn't stop red from crawling to your cheeks.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Right after, the light turned green, as if saving you from whatever this was. Then the teasing disappeared from Morgan's voice, replaced with curiosity. "Wait, so you're seriously telling me Hotch didn't call you?"

"Yes, Derek. That is exactly what I am telling you," you insisted, then you glanced back at him. "But to answer your question, Kate doesn't like you for the same reason she doesn't like me: power." He stared at you confusedly, so you elaborated, "Word on the steet is that the FBI wants to reassign her, and you're their star replacement."

"What?" Shock laced through his voice.

"What, are you telling me you actually didn't know?"

"No, I thought the Bureau was so proud of itself for stealing her away from Scotland Yard."

"Well, don't ask me to explain FBI politics to you. I'm in an entirely different organization, my guy."

Derek groaned in exasperation, making you laugh and forget about Hotch, even if it was only for a second.

❧

By the time you and Derek got to the field office, you were all business, unlike any time Hotch had ever seen you.

With the team gathered around you, you stood in front of the evidence board and started, "The unsubs' behaviour is questionable. They're disciplined, they're using countersurveillance. They take a quick shot then leave the scene immediately, not stopping to watch or enjoy the kill at all. There is nothing sexual about it, and that is because these killings are not the work of a serial killer. They're methodical. They look like mob hits at first glance, simulate gang initiations. They seem random, but they're not. The murders, just like the Death card you received, are a smoke screen."

Kate cut you off. "How can you be so sure?"

You suppressed your irritation at being interrupted and kept calm. Cooly, you explained, "Murders like these create panic— not just amongst the general population, but amongst law enforcement, as well; it is terror. It serves their greater goal." You gestured with your hands as you spoke. "The murders simulate a bombing. From there, they station someone to watch, gauge how long it takes police to respond."

Understanding flashed through Morgan's eyes. "At which point they bring in a second bomb."

"Exactly," you affirmed. "The goal is always to take out a first round of civilians, followed by a second wave of emergency responders. It's trial and error—it's how they practice. And if someone catches the shooter, that's fine because we just end up thinking we have a murderer; the cell is never compromised. And in creating such panic, they ensure the most urgent response time short of a bombing. It's by far the smartest way to plan for a terrorist attack."

You crossed your arms, giving them time to absorb your words. You didn't expect anyone to respond so soon, and you certainly didn't expect that person to be Hotch. "It's a theory, Y/N." His voice was soft, and that seemed to only add fuel to the fire.

You resisted the urge to scoff, sharply retorting, "Isn't any profile?"

He didn't answer. Perhaps that was the smartest choice; he didn't want to pick an argument with you, not now.

Hesistantly, Spencer spoke up, "I think— I think she's right." He walked behind you to the board, picking up a red marker and circling spots on the map before turning back around to face you. "I think they're targeting points of entry. All the murders have taken place near a bridge or tunnel."

"Holland Tunnel, Midtown Tunnel, Manhattan Bridge," Emily muttered.

"If bombs went off, emergency response would shut down any ability to get in or out of the city," JJ remarked. "It's— it's like people would be trapped on the island."

It looked like you had everyone convinced, even Hotch—despite his reluctance to believe you—but for some reason, Kate Joyner just couldn't let up. She crossed her arms. "I still fail to see how you came to the conclusion of multiple shooters."

Unbothered, you replied, "Having followers do the shootings would ensure they're willing to kill or be killed for their cause."

She countered, "But is there any evidence that that's the case?" 

You narrowed your eyes, going to respond when someone's ringtone sounded. Derek picked up his phone and put it on speaker. You could almost thank whoever it was for stopping you from saying something you would or wouldn't regret. 

"Talk to me, babygirl."

Penelope's voice came through the phone. "Okay, I have bad news then badder, connected news. What would you like me to start with?"

Derek glanced up at you, then at Hotch. "Gimme the bad news, Garcia."

"Alright, well, I was looking at the surveillance footage from the murders, specifically the most recent compared to the previous, and found something very, very off. I'll share my screen with you." Emily turned on the laptop on the table closest to all of you, and the footage immediately appeared. Silently, you watched the videos one after the other, and you had a feeling that Garcia was just about to vindicate you. "You guys see what I saw?"

"Well, he sprints off in one and walks calmly in the other. It's two entirely different demeanours," Morgan said.

"Exactly, my dove. So check it out, I did a digital perspective analysis rendering on all the shootings we have footage of. Now the first two were inconclusive, but again, in the last two, I found something très weird." Garcia did a freeze-frame, her analysis software appearing. "Your calm, walking type—he's about 6 foot 1." The screen changed to the other scene. "But your sprinter, he's like 5'9", 5'10" tops."

While the air in the office got colder, you stood there holding back the urge to smirk. You saw both Morgan and Hotch glance at you from the corner of your eye, but you only turned to Kate, seeing somewhat of a defeated expression on her face.

"Is this evidence enough for you, Agent Joyner?"

❧

That surveillance footage was enough confirmation for you, no matter what Joyner had to say about it. Following Garcia's revelation, you walked away from the team's makeshift conference room and walked into the bullpen, pulling out your phone and dialling Homeland Security.

You notified them of the situation at hand and that you were expecting something big soon, but not yet, telling them not to act without your say-so. It was of vital importance that you controlled the situation; you couldn't let the unsubs know you were onto them, so you couldn't make any moves just yet, either.

You hung up the phone, sighing. You hated cases like these. Being The Angel of Death was something you got used to; you could control that, but dealing with a cell like this wasn't just more challenging—it was unpredictable, and unpredictable was something you weren't quite fond of.

You turned around and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Hotch standing right behind you. Your hand slapped against your chest. "Holy shit, Hotchner, don't they teach you not to a sneak up on a girl in FBI school?"

Something almost like a smile came to his lips, the last thing you were expecting from him, especially at a time like this. "I'd hardly call that sneaking up on you. And according to you, you've been to 'FBI school,' so you should know."

You scoffed. "Regardless." Hotch's eyes remained on you, and the corners of his lips never went down. An uncomfortable silence then settled between you, despite the loud bustling in your surroundings.

You were hoping you could've gone this entire visit without speaking to him alone.

He must've noticed this, because his next words were, "You've been avoiding me."

You tensed ever so slightly. You'd been here all of five minutes, and he thought you were avoiding him. "I have not been avoiding you—"

"Yes, you have."

"We have bigger problems to deal with. Not everything is about you, Hotchner."

"Why are you avoiding me, Y/N?" You hated how his voice sounded, calm and soft. You hated the fact that he was even asking you this right now. You wanted him to be the stoic guy he always was. You didn't like this. And deep down, you knew that that was why you were avoiding him.

You didn't like the unpredictable.

And Aaron Hotchner was just that.

In lieu of responding, you dodged the question, biting back, "Why do you care?"

Hotch stilled as if you'd just hit him with the question of the century. It was then that he realized he didn't know. He couldn't answer you because he didn't have the answer himself.

He didn't know what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, and he supposed he never would, because a second later, a phone rang.

A sigh left his lips as he went to pick the phone up off some agent's desk, and you watched as the stoic man you knew returned. Yet, for some reason, you weren't as relieved as you thought you'd be.

"Hotchner." Kate chose that moment to walk out of her office while Morgan and Rossi came up from behind you. Hotch's voice became grave. "Does it look it could be one of our guys?"

Derek took the words right from your mouth. "What's going on?"

Hotch put down the phone. "We've got eyes on one of them," he answered. "He's on the subway platform at 59th and Lex."

"59th—? We could've been right there." He looked at Kate with an accusatory glare. The fury that lit up in his eyes and the way she refused to look back told you there was a conversation between them that you missed.

Over the phone, you heard Garcia let out a shaky breath, telling you all that the unsub shot the woman.

Kate paced. "Where the hell are the police?" 

Meanwhile, you picked up another telephone from the adjacent desk. "This is Y/N Y/L/N with the CIA. We have a murder suspect on 59th and Lex, subway platform. Hurry."

You slammed the phone down as you heard Penelope fret, "God, he's getting away."

"Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?"

A few clicks were audible as she responded, "He's heading west on 59th Street."

Kate spoke up, stating what you already knew. "If he makes it to the park, we've lost him."

"We lost the visual," another woman said.

Derek scoffed while Rossi questioned, "Are the police on the scene?"

"Negative."

And just like that, without another word, it was clear to everyone in the room that you just lost your only suspect. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, cursing under your breath. Next to you, Derek made his frustrations much more known. "We could've had that guy," he snapped.

Kate finally looked at him. "Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated."

This didn't console him at all. "Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot—"

"I had every available man on the street."

Morgan stepped forward, seething. "And I suggested to you that you use this team." Realization came over you. Now you understood why he was so angry; Kate let her resentment of him get in the way of the case, and that decision may have just cost you a life.

Just as you thought Hotch couldn't get any more unpredictable, he scolded, "Morgan, second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now."

Your brows raised, but he didn't look at you, nor did he look at Derek. 

"Hotch, we have a possible terrorist attack coming. How am I supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them?"

Hotch's reply was sharp. "We're here to present a profile. That's what we need to do."

Derek ignored him, pressing, "I said to put as express stops. 14th, 42nd, 59th— and that's exactly where they hit—"

"It's not your place to have this discussion." This time, Hotch did look at him, and his eyes were hard.

Immediately, you cut in, spitting out his name. "Agent Hotchner." Hotch's eyes went right to you. You stepped forward, firing, "We have six bodies. And right now, I have to call Homeland Security and tell them that we not only have another one, but we also just lost a valuable chance to find one of the perpetrators."

"Which is exactly why we need to stay focused."

"Focused?" Derek echoed. Then he took a step closer, standing eye to eye with his boss. "From where I'm standing, all your focus is on her."

Kate's head ducked down, and from there, it didn't take much for you to connect the dots. All of a sudden, it made sense why Derek had asked you about Kate earlier instead of going straight to Hotch.

And to think that, just a few moments ago, he'd been going after you.

With a tick in his jaw, Hotch commanded, "Take a walk. Now."

Derek stared at him for a split-second before walking off without another word. 

"You know, I think I'm gonna take that walk with him," you muttered. And just like that, it was as if Hotch realized you were still there.

He went to say your name, but you were turning your back and walking away before he could even utter the first syllable.

Unpredictability. What a fickle thing.

You hated it.

❧

You found Derek at a nearby bar, the closest bar to the field office. Contrary to what you said to Hotch, you didn't come looking for him; he just so happened to find the same place you did.

Before you even pulled out the barstool, he was sighing. "I know. I was out of line."

You lightly snorted. "I'm not here to chastise you, Derek." He looked up at you, surprise flashing through his eyes. "I'm just here to drink." Right on cue, the bartender came up to you and asked you wanted to drink, to which you ordered brandy, neat.

When said drink arrived in front of you and you downed it in one go, it prompted him to ask, "Aren't you still on the job?"

A slight chuckle left you. "Morgan, I run an entire CIA ops division and then I also get asked to do things like this." You then deadpanned, "Trust me, I can hold my liquor."

He held his hands up in surrender, an amused expression on his face before something serious took it over, wiping the smile from his face. "I'm sorry about Joyner, by the way." When you look at him confused, he explained, "I didn't have to say that. Not in front of you."

You sighed. Not this again. "Derek, I have nothing going on with your boss. So whatever the deal is with him and Kate is absolutely none of my business." For some reason, the words stung coming out of your mouth, and you didn't like it one bit.

He left it alone and didn't press the issue further (thankfully). You glanced at the beer in front of him. You nodded toward it, stating, "You haven't touched that."

He glanced at it. "Guess I don't have the appetite for it right now."

You hummed. "Or you want to go back."

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, nearly making you laugh. "I have to apologize to her, don't I?" This time, when you nodded and he ran a hand over his bald head, you did laugh. "Fucking hell."

You sarcastically patted his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, sweetheart. I'll walk back with you."

"Sweetheart?" you heard him question as you stood up, putting enough money down for both of your drinks. "And now you're paying for me? You're threatening my manhood here, angel."

"Get over it, Morgan."

And as he let out a hearty laugh, you let yourself pretend that you didn't have a different agent on your mind entirely.

❧

Upon getting back to the office, you suddenly wished you'd had another drink as you were informed that there was not only another shooting, but Detective Cooper was shot after he and Prentiss chased after him.

Kate seemed to have taken Derek's suggestion and sent the team out on the streets in the hour and a half you were away. In that time, Prentiss and Cooper nearly got one of the shooters, but he was fast; he could've gotten away. Yet he stopped and shot Cooper, prompting Emily to fire a shot of her own.

Suicide by cop.

You hung up the phone, walking back into the room after telling Homeland that you'd be calling with another update soon. "Three shootings in one day," you said, catching everyone's attention. "They're ramping up to something."

Morgan held his phone up in the air and wiggled it. "Yeah, well, while you were on the phone, Garcia called. They hacked into at least one camera at every scene and have been watching from day one."

You cursed under your breath just as Kate called your name. "Y/N." You looked up at her in half-veiled surprise, seeing her standing with her arms crossed, a somewhat uncomfortable look on her face. "Aaron told me more about your position in the CIA, how you're more well-versed in situations such as these." It looked like she had a hard time getting the words out, despite the sincerity in her tone. "I'd like you to take the lead on this." 

You were sure that the surprise must've shown on your face, courtesy of fatigue, but you quickly masked it and nodded. You took one deep breath, and then you dived in. "We need to hit the ground running." You turned to everyone individually as you gave them instructions. "Rossi, I'd like you to talk to the Commissioner. He'll be familiar with you." He nodded and left the room. "Derek, you brief Homeland Security, tell them I sent you. I want them to know we're expecting them to strike any minute now."

"You got it, angel."

You turned to Emily, who was already ahead of you. "I'll head to the hospital, check on Cooper, and brief Detective Brustin."

"Good. And Spencer—"

He (with a creepy accuracy) anticipated what you were going to say before you even said it. "JJ and I will talk to the Port Authority Police."

You nodded then realized that left only two people, unwelcome dread filling you. Out of a stubborn attempt to prove his earlier claim about avoiding him wrong, you looked to Hotch but still didn't meet his eyes. "Agent Hotchner, you and Kate should speak to the mayor. I have to make some calls to the DOD. We'll all meet back here as soon as possible. We are crunched for time, but the one advantage that we have is that they don't know we know they're watching."

Everyone who hadn't already left nodded and got to their tasks. Hotch looked like he wanted to stick around and say something to you, but as you said, the clock was ticking. 

You called the DOD and briefly explained what Homeland Security had likely already spoken to them about, that you saw a terrorist event on the horizon. They told you that, luckily, the Deputy Secretary of Defense was in town, only ten, maybe twenty minutes away from where you were. 

Quickly, you gathered your things and made your way out of the building. At the exit, however, you found exactly who you didn't want to see.

Hotch and Kate.

They hadn't left yet.

They stood outside the door, facing each other. He had his hand on her elbow, and he was saying something you couldn't make out. Whatever it was, it made her lips upturn.

You couldn't recognize the feeling that crawled through your veins at that moment. The green monster and you hadn't been acquainted in a while, but for some reason, she was showing up, making your body her home, and you hated it.

Shaking off whatever it was you were feeling, you pushed the door open. Hotch noticed you first. "Y/N," he said. He took his hand off her arm. A weight was lifted off your chest.

"Agent Hotchner," you greeted, promptly turning to the blonde and doing the same. "Agent Joyner. I've gotten word that the Deputy Secretary of Defense is in New York; I'm heading to see her."

Kate nodded. "Good. Aaron and I are on our way to the mayor's office now." She turned, starting to walk away, and then you realized she was heading in the same direction as your car.

Fuck. They parked next to you.

You started walking, too, Hotch now at your side. Kate was ahead of you guys. You're sure that Hotch could naturally walk faster than you, but he remained at your side. This is deliberate, you thought.

Your conversation from earlier hung in the air. With Kate gone, the tension between you was now palpable. But he wouldn't say anything, you assured yourself, not with her in earshot.

But perhaps you underestimated him. With every meeting, Aaron Hotchner continued to surprise you. He had become unpredictable to you.

Yet, the two of you would soon bear witness to just how unpredictable life could truly be.

Just as you were nearing your vehicles, Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but a loud boom cut him off.

Before either of you could register it, you were sent flying backward, shockwaves rippling through your body.

And then everything went black.

❧

New York City has never been so quiet, you thought, blinking your eyes open. And you've never been able to see the stars in this city, either, but tonight, you saw them just fine. Part of you wondered if you were dreaming.

No, not a dream. A hallucination.

There's been an accident.

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks as pain erupted in your side. A groan left you unwarranted. You went to touch it then hissed at the throbbing. There was no blood there, though, no wound, so it must've been the bones.

Nowhere else hurt—not that bad, at least. You tested yourself, trying to sit up. It hurt to do so, but you did it. And when you did, you were met with the sight of an SUV, up in flames.

No, not an accident. This was planned.

But it wasn't your car. It would've made sense if it were your car, if you were the direct target, but you weren't. Your mind ran a mile a minute. Why would they blow up a random SUV?

It's then that you remember it wasn't a random SUV. It was Hotch's.

Hotch and Kate.

They were with you.

With that realization, any and all intellectual thought escape your grasp. You shot upward, the pain becoming nonexistent as a surge of adrenaline flowed through your body. "Hotch!" you screamed. No answer. "Hotch! Kate!" No one answered. "Aaron!" You continued to cry his name but no one answered.

Tears you welled up in your eyes. It was lost on you that you hadn't cried in years. It was equally lost on you that this was the first time you'd ever said his name.

You spun around, letting go of a breath you didn't know you were holding when you spotted a man in a suit, standing there, just staring at the fire. You jogged over to him and called out his name, but he didn't move his head. You tried again. "Aaron." No response. "Aaron!"

Finally, he looked at you. A plethora of emotions could be seen on his face. Confusion. Anger. Fear. Then worry. "Y/N," he breathed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." That was a lie, but you could handle the pain well. You had good experience. "Are you?"

"Yes, I think so." 

You took a quick moment to examine him, the cut by his brow, the blood by his ear; you think back to how he didn't respond to your calls. Concussion, you thought, and a ruptured ear drum.

You take ahold of his arm, gently but firmly, and slowly asked him, "Aaron, where's Kate?" 

He blinked, glancing back at the wreck and then back at you. You watched him swallow. "I—"

"Hey! Are the two of you okay?"

Your eyes and his simultaneously snapped to the voice that'd just appeared, seeing a scrawny kid stand in front of you. Like a switch had been flipped, the abundance of emotions on his face dissipated into one.

Determination.

"What's your name?" he questioned.

The kid looked at him, confused. "What?"

Hotch repeated, "What's your name?"

As if he thought you two were crazy, he glanced between you warily. "Sam," he replied.

Hotch didn't look at him or acknowledge his name as he ordered, "Call 911." 

"Yeah— yeah, I did."

"Call 911— tell that there's been an explosion."

"Sir, are you okay?" His eyes darted to you. "Ma'am, are you hurt?" Momentarily, he glanced down, his eyes catching the gun on your belt. He looked to Hotch, finding the same thing. Stunned, he looked back up. "Are you guys cops?"

Hotch's eyes were still on the fire. "Call 911. Tell them... that a— that a federal agent—" Without warning, he took off running towards the car, yelling, "Kate!"

"Hotch!" You went to follow him but the kid stopped you.

"Okay so you want me to say you're a federal agent?"

You turned around, eyes blazing. "Call 911. Tell them that there's been a car explosion, involving two FBI agents and one CIA officer." You barely finished your sentence before you were running after Hotch.

By the time you got to him, he was taking off his jacket, about to shield himself and run right into the car but you stopped him. "Aaron!" 

His eyes darted to you then travelled behind you. The dread painted on his features mixed with relief, but you couldn't tell which emotion was stronger. You turned, following his line of sight, and saw Kate lying on the ground, a trail of blood leading to her body.

Without missing a beat, you both ran to her, her coughing becoming more audible as you got closer. Aaron got down immediately, and her first words were, "My purse. I can't find my purse."

He shushed her. "Don't move, don't move."

"Aaron, my purse."

Shock. She's in shock.

If only just to placate her, Hotch glanced around for it. "I don't think you had one," he said.

"I must've dropped it," she gasped, moving her head.

"Kate—" you cut in from above, "Kate, you need to stop trying to move."

She looked up at you, her eyes widening at whatever she saw. "Y/N. Y/N, what happened?"

You ran a hand through your hair. "I don't— I don't know. A bomb. An IED, I think." You glanced back at the car, your mind going back to the same race it was racing in before you found Aaron.

"An IED?" she echoed. "I have to get up."

"No. No, no, no. Lie down. Lie still. You need to lie still," he pleaded with her.

Suddenly, she caught your attention back. "Am I moving my legs?"

Hotch shushed her again at first, then he questioned, "What?"

Both of you glanced down at her legs at the same time. You resisted the urge to cup your mouth.

You were gonna be sick.

Weakly, she asked again, "Am I moving my legs?"

You didn't have the heart to answer her. From the looks of it, neither did Aaron, because he changed the subject. "I'm going to have to turn you and see where the blood is coming from," he said.

"Do it."

"Alright? Okay." He turned her while you focused on the sirens wailing in the distance, getting closer. The sound blended in with Kate's crying until it was all one and the same to you.

Police cars and ambulances soon pulled up just ahead of you, maybe a hundred yards away. You stood taller, yelling, "Officer down!" When they didn't come any closer, you flailed your arms. "Officer down! Here! There's an officer down!"

Kate's voice, ever so quiet, cut through the noise like a knife. "They're not coming." You turned to her, seeing her look at both of you defeatedly. "We told them not to. Remember?"

Your own words rang through your head. The goal is always to take out a first round of civilians, followed by a second wave of emergency responders.

The reality of the situation struck you. They weren't coming.

"The first wave of responders are the targets," she got out. "ESU orders are not— to let anyone in until the area is cleared."

"No." You shook your head. "I'm not taking that as an answer."

"Y/N—"

"We are getting you out of here, Kate, come hell or high water." Your previous aversion to her no longer mattered. She was lying on the ground covered in blood, unable to move her legs. All that mattered was getting her out.

Without wasting another second, you ran toward the barricade. ESU officer braced their rifles, but you had your badge ready as you stood a safe distance away from them. You were trying to think calmly, as calmly as you could. Your ribs stung as you held the badge up in the air.

The words were spoken in an erratic panic. "My name is Director Y/N Y/L/N, I'm a senior officer of the CIA. Behind me are SSAs Aaron Hotchner and Kate Joyner. She is injured— badly—"

A man stepped forward and cut you off cooly, "I understand that, ma'am, but I have orders not to let anyone in—"

You lost it. "Screw your orders! She can't fucking move!"

"Ma'am, my orders are what they are."

"Your orders are what they are," you repeated under your breath, a humourless chuckle escaping. "What's your name?"

He squared his shoulders. "It's Captain Warner, ma'am."

"Well, Captain Warner," you spat. "Allow me to re-introduce myself. My name is Director or Agent Y/L/N, not ma'am. Director. And I am quite familiar with your orders, Captain; I gave them. You are here because I made the call that put you here. And, so help me God, if you don't listen to this order, I will make the call that relieves you of your position."

Warner didn't appear to be shaken, but you could see the cloud of doubt floating in his eyes. You'd think that anyone would grapple for their job, but Warner was being difficult. "I apologize, Director, but I can't do that."

Your nostrils flared. You were just about to continue telling him off when an awfully familiar voice sounded, asking for someone in charge. Your eyes widened. "Derek!"

Derek's head snapped your way. "Holy shit. Y/N!" He came running towards you but was stopped by the same officers that kept you from crossing the barricade, holding up their guns.

"This area is restricted," he said.

He held up his badge. "I'm Agent Morgan, FBI. That's my friend—"

"This area is restricted," Warner repeated, barely looking at him. "I will take care of your friend. Now go back to the Federal Building. There are evac marshaling spots. Check in and make sure they know where you are."

Morgan held his ground, stepping in front of Warner and retaliating, "I am not about to do that."

"Get out of my face or I'll have you bodily removed, Agent."

"Derek." You caught his attention. "Hotch and Kate are down there."

He spun around. "That's my boss down there!"

"My orders are what they are." 

You scoffed at the recycled statement while Derek argued, "I don't give a damn what your orders are!"

"I get it, Agent, but we've been told by you" he gave you a glance "'Responders are the targets.' So, until the blast site is cleared, no one goes in."

Morgan looked back at you then back at the Captain with a renewed resolution, trying a different approach. "You're Marine Corps, right?" Warner didn't respond, looking down. "Right?"

"Please. Go back to the marshaling point."

"I'm not doing it." He pointed to the site. "I'm not just going to let my man lie down there like that."

As if on cue, Hotch screamed, "Someone! Damnit, we're here!" You nearly flinched at the sheer pain in his voice, and Derek certainly didn't look unaffected, either.

"'Never leave a man behind.' You do remember that, don't you?"

Hotch kept screaming as Morgan and Warner stared each other down. It seemed that he must've gotten to him, because within just a moment, he said, "Go."

Derek didn't waste another second, immediately running to you and grabbing onto your shoulders. "Y/N, are you alright?"

"I'm fine! I'm fine, it's Kate."

He nodded and then took off following with you trailing closely behind, but not before you gave Captain Warner a pointed glare.

When you got to Hotch, the kid was back, seemingly tending to Kate as Morgan explained, "They're not letting any ambulances down here until they clear the scene." He glanced at the kid like he just noticed he was there. "Kid, you've gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go." The kid didn't move. "Go!"

"Go, Sam." At Hotch's word, the kid got up and ran, but your attention was focused solely on Kate, checking her vitals.

"Talk to me. Can we carry her?" Morgan barely gave him time to respond. "Hotch, can we carry her?"

"No, I tried. Morgan—" he paused, intaking a shaky breath, "she's going to bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We've got to do something."

Derek's phone ringing cut off whatever he was going to say. He picked it up immediately. "Garcia, I got Hotch and Y/N, but listen to me, you got to get somebody down here right away. You hear me? Right now." You didn't hear what Garcia said next, but it caused his head to snap up. "What? You're absolutely sure?" He glanced at you then to the kid who you realized never left.

The kid held his hands out like he was asking what you were waiting for, causing you to tilt your head, confused.

Morgan hung up the phone and then his next words shocked you. "Hotch. The kid. He's the bomber."

Your eyes went wide before instantly going to Hotch. "Are you okay to stay here?" you asked.

He didn't even think about it. "Go."

With that, you and Morgan took off running. The kid bolted, leaving you to chase after him.

Despite the heels on your feet (that luckily weren't stilettos) and obvious bruise to your side, you couldn't feel pain. All you feel was the pure adrenaline pumping through your veins. You hadn't been so ready to fight in ages. The anger coursing through your body was unparalleled.

This kid wasn't getting away with this, and you'd make sure of it.

You chased the kid down the street, Morgan ahead of you. An ambulance passed you while you ran, and you prayed it'd be heading Hotch's way.

You kept chasing after the kid, turning a corner and he was gone, but Morgan was already heading down the stairs for the subway, so you knew he was down there.

You ran down the stairs, skipping steps as you went, following Morgan's lead and pulling out your gun. Civilians filled the station, evacuating. "Out of the way!" you screamed, pushing past them.

"Move! Where'd he go? Where?" Some pointed straight ahead, so you kept running.

You got down to where the subway was, but by now, it was empty. You came to a stop next to Morgan, holding up your gun.

"Show your face, you son of a bitch!"

No one showed. You nodded to the train and panted, "Morgan, I'll take the back. You take the front."

Heaving, he nodded, going for the front. You entered the train with your gun held high, pointing it on either side of the door. You walked through the cart slowly, checking beheind yourself periodically to ensure the kid wouldn't sneak up on you.

You pushed open the door to the next cart warily. It was just as empty as the previous one. You went for the next cart. Nothing again. You met Morgan in the middle. "Nothing," you said.

"Me neither. But there's a door at the front. I'm thinking he could've hopped through there," he told you.

You nodded and followed him there, accepting his help and jumping down. Carefully, with your gun and flashlight in hand, you walked on the tracks, avoiding the power supply. You shouted, "We know you're in here, kid. Show your fucking face, you coward!"

A noise sounded, making you turn around to check it while Morgan continued forward. "You've got nowhere to run, man. You hear me? There's nothing down here for you."

"Is that all you see?" At the sound of the kid's voice, you spun around, moving your flashlight around. "Huh? Darkness?"

You caught up to Morgan, and then the kid showed himself. Your flashlight revealed his shoes lying on the ground while he slowly walked on the rail, balancing himself like this was a game. You cocked your gun. "You listen to me, you little shit. This is not a fucking game. Get your ass off the tracks and put your hands on top of your fucking head. Do it now."

When he failed to listen to you, Derek yelled, "Do it now!"

The kid did as you said, but not to listen to you. It was to mock you. "You will lose in the end," he said.

Derek moved forward. "Shut up. Shut your mouth."

"You wanna know why?" He continued on like he'd never said a word. "Because you fear what we embrace."

Before you could do anything, he took one foot off the track and put it on the third rail. "Get off the— no! No, no!" Derek and you were forced backward as the light blinded your eyes. Without even lifting your eyes up, you knew undoubtedly that the kid was dead.

He just killed himself right in front you.

"Damnit." You reached to run a hand through your hair but you were stopped by the stabbing pain in your ribs, suddenly reappearing. You hissed, "Ah, shit."

"Y/N?" Within a blink, Derek was in front of you. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fi— fuck." Your knees buckled, but Morgan caught you, holding onto by your waist. When that caused another hiss, he switched his hold to your arms.

"I think you might've broken some ribs. How the hell didn't you notice this before?"

"I— it didn't feel this bad before."

Morgan cursed under his breath. "Your adrenaline is wearing off. We need to get you to a hospital."

"No, I'm o—" a sharp stab cut you off, making you grunt. "Fine. But what about Kate?" 

"We both saw that ambulance drive their way," he reasoned. "They're gonna be okay. Look, if we get back and they're still there, we can stay, alright?"

You thought over his proposal and eventually relented and let him lead you off the tracks, giving in to the pain. You just hoped that he was right, that they were okay.

Please let them be okay.

❧

You arrived at the hospital in record time, passing through the streets like light work. After receiving confirmation that Hotch and Kate were at Saint Barclays, he drove the two of you there, too, insisting that a doctor see you despite your equal insistence that you were fine.

Now, you sat on an ER bed. You had a few cuts here and there but nothing too deep; you were given sutures for one cut across your cheek. The doctor wasn't looking at you right now; she was looking at your chart, giving you time to glance around the triage room.

You weren't a big fan of hospitals, never were. They were never a source of good news, and every hospital you stepped into smelled the same, like bleach and chemicals. When you were younger, you were convinced that this was to cover up the smell of death.

That wasn't too far off.

The doctor pulled you out of your revierie, snapping the chart shut. "So, Ms. Y/L/N, I've ruled out the possibility of a collapsed lung, but you've broken 4 of your left true ribs," she informed you. "From what your partner has told me, you've over-exerted yourself, and thus exacerbated the issue."

"I'm a CIA officer and had to chase a suspect," was the only explanation you offered.

She deadpanned. "I understand that, Ms. Y/L/N, but you've just made your healing process ten time harder."

You gave her a short smile. "I've been through worse."

She looked at you for a few more seconds before she sighed, re-opening the chart book. "I can prescribe you some medication for the pain."

You declined perhaps a bit too quickly. "No, that's alright."

Slowly, she looked up at you, her eyes questioning. "No? Why not? I can imagine you're in a great deal of pain right now."

At her inquiry, you were reminded of someone else's interrogative questions. Hotch's voice filled your head, Why do you say it like that—say your name as if it's not your name?

Your mind travelled back to a time you weren't Y/N. There was a girl with a different name who wore your face, a girl you separated yourself from entirely. She didn't grow up thinking she'd have a future in law enforcement—she didn't even think she'd have a future at all.

She hung around the wrong crowd and picked up bad habits, habits like oxycodone and amphetamines. But you weren't her anymore.

You were 7 years sober.

You'd rather not explain all of this to the attending in front of you—you'd rather not explain it to anyone. Instead, you just said, "I have a high pain tolerance. I can handle it."

She stared at you warily, but otherwise, there wasn't much she could do but accept your decision. "I'd advise against that, but it is your choice."

You pursed your lips into what you hoped was a small smile. "It is."

She kept her persistent stare until she eventually gave up, leaving the makeshift room. You didn't wait long before you left, too, jumping off the table and pushing back the curtain. You walked through the halls in search of the tan-skinned man you came in with, avoiding looking anywhere but ahead of you.

Hospitals were unpredictacle.

You didn't like that.

You turned a corner, and as if you just had good luck, Derek was there, already walking your way. 

He raised a brow at you. "You all good, angel?" 

You fell into step beside him, letting him lead the way to wherever you were going and flashing him a flirtatious smile. "Never been better, muscles." It wasn't a total lie; the pain had mostly subsided, and you'd felt worse in your life.

Morgan didn't bat an eyelash. "Well, that's good because we need to get moving. The team's on the way."

At the mention of the BAU, your thoughts were re-directed. Without stopping, you glanced over at Derek and gave him a quick once-over. He seemed normal: he was flirting with you, no signs of dejection. So Hotch must've been alright. Still, though, you felt compelled to ask, "Hotchner and Joyner. Are they okay?"

If Derek noticed the small blip in your voice, he didn't say anything. You weren't sure if you even noticed it, either. "Hotch is fine, back to barking orders and being a drill sergeant. Kate's in surgery, though."

You couldn't explain the wave of calm that came over you at that moment. You couldn't explain why you even cared.

But you did.

You nodded in response and changed subjects. "Has anything happened since the first blast?"

"No. Nothing."

An exasperated sigh left you. "That doesn't make any sense. Something should've happened by now." You ran a hand through your hair, your gears turning. "I mean, why go through all this trouble just to hit a single SUV with a few agents? Why not wait until we were in our cars?"

"I don't know," he replied. "What I'm still stuck on is why the kid would stay knowing we'd figure him out."

"Yeah, why would he stay—" suddenly, you halted in your tracks, cutting yourself off as memories rushed to the forefront of your brain.

[Thank you for your input, Ms. Y/L/N. The Secretary of Defense is unavailable at the moment, so the Deputy Secretary will be fielding all defense matters for the moment. She happens to be in town, and she'd like to be briefed in person, if that's alright.]

Yes, I can do that. Just send me an address.

Then you heard the voices of Secret Service agents in your head: I'm sorry, but this hospital is on strict bypass.

"What? What is it?" Derek's voice shook you out of your reverie. You looked up to see him standing in front of you, a worried expression on his face. You would've laughed if it weren't so serious. He probably thought you had a concussion—and while you didn't, what you were going to say was worse than that.

"Derek," you started.

Your tone must've scared him because he stepped closer. "What?"

You paused, mulling over the details in your head. Secret Service was here. Someone important was in the building, someone like the Secretary of Defense. And that bomber just so happened to stick around until an ambulance showed up, taking Hotch and Kate straight here. 

Sam didn't wait until you were cars, and that wasn't a careless mistake. It wasn't because he was so excited that he couldn't wait. It was because that blast wasn't meant to kill you, not on impact.

It was meant to take you here.

When you made up your mind, you took a step closer to him and lowered your voice, not wanting to attract panic in spite of the fact that it'd happen, anyway. Your voice was rigid.

"I think there's a bomb in this hospital."

❧

After quickly explaining your theory to Derek, you parted ways; he went to go find the team while you took off to find the head of that Secret Service detail.

Any uneasiness you felt being in this hospital increased a tenfold, no longer because of the fact that it was a hospital but because it could blow any minute now. You knew you weren't scared, though—and maybe you should've been, but this was the job.

You found the SS soon enough, calling out to them, "Hey, men in black!"

Your volume turned heads, including theirs. The bald man stood up from where he was leaned over on a counter and greeted you first, leading you to believe he was in charge. "Ms. Y/L/N." So he knew who you were. That made this a lot easier.

You didn't waste any time. "The Secretary of Defense is in this hospital, isn't he?"

"Ma'am, I know you're high up on the ladder, but—"

You cut him off briskly, "There is a bomb in this building, and it's rigged to assassinate the Secretary." 

The agent whose name you didn't ask for stiffened but adapted quickly, ordering the agents behind him to hit the alarms all without looking away from you. "Where is it?" he then questioned.

"The ambulance my colleague drove in, I believe." The word colleague tasted wrong on your tongue, but you didn't have the time to dwell on it. "Is it already in the basement?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then you need to evac the building. You need to get the Secretary and everybody else out of here right now."

"We can't do that," he answered. "He's undergoing surgery as we speak."

You were sure that the next words to leave your mouth would be curses, but before you could even get them out, a band of rushed footsteps became audible from behind you. It didn't take you long to recognize who they belonged to.

The footsteps stopped where you were. You glanced to see the team surrounding you, Derek on your left and Hotch on your right. So he was alright. You held back a sigh of relief and kept your eyes off him, directing all your focus to the task at hand. 

Silently, Morgan handed you a Kevlar vest. You nodded to him in thanks and put it on while Hotch hurriedly interrogated, "The paramedic I came in with—do you have eyes on him?"

The Secret Service Agent briefly glanced at you, to which you nodded, prompting him to turn over a computer playing a live feed. 

"Is that a cell in his hands?"

Rossi pressed onto a mic on his chest. "Garcia, can you remote access the grid I'm in and jam all the frequencies?" She said something you couldn't hear and then he added, tone clipped, "There's a bomb in the basement of this building."

Garcia worked quickly, disrupting the satellite feeds in your location within seconds. You could tell she did this by paramedic's actions on the screen. "Look. He's coming back," Prentiss said. "He's going to detonate the bomb manually if he has to."

"Where did Morgan go?" At Hotch's abrupt words, you turned to your left but Derek was no longer there. He'd snuck off while you were paying attention to the feed, and you had no doubt as to where. 

His appearance on the computer screen confirmed your suspicions. You sighed, before tiredly voicing, "He went to find the ambulance."

Hotch's voice was incredulous. "Alone?"

Rossi didn't share Hotch's surprise. "Let's head down."

You were off before he even finished the sentence, trusting the Secret Service agents to do their jobs well enough while you all did yours. You removed your gun from your holster, holding it up and jogging through the now empty hallways with tunnel vision.

You barely noticed the others behind you until Hotch somehow got ahead of you. "He's going to the basement," he called out.

You think it was Emily that replied. "Stairs."

You pushed the door to the stairwell open and Hotch entered quickly, scanning the area with his gun as he moved. It was eerily silent, the only sound being the alarms in the distance and your footsteps rapidly hitting the stairs as you took them two at a time. 

None of you said a word.

By the time you reached the basement, the alarm was non-existent. Your loud footsteps became quieted, soundless with the precision only people like you could have. You could hear a pin drop. 

At the end of the hallway, you wordlessly split into two groups: you with Hotch and Rossi, and Prentiss with Reid.

Hotch led the way while you and Rossi covered him. Your bomber was sitting criss-crossed against the netted gate, gun tossed on the ground with a cellphone in one hand and a knife in the other. Fuck.

You could only pray that Morgan got out before that signal came back online.

You had your gun in the air, even though you knew what was gonna happen. You all did.

Rossi's voice cut through the air. "FBI."

The bomber didn't flinch, staring at the ground with a lifeless look in his eyes. He was a dead man. 

He raised the knife to his neck—and if you weren't with FBI agents right now, you would've shot his shaking hand and knocked that knife straight to the ground. You would've forced him to take accountability—perhaps not in a courtroom, but in a place that would still enforce a semblance of justice.

But you were with FBI agents. And Hotch reminded you of this as he spoke up, "Put it down. It's over."

Yes, it was. Because the coward slit his throat thereafter, and the knife clattered to the ground.

Slowly, you lowered your guns. You holstered yours, and then you were walking away. You didn't spare the body another glance. It wasn't a life lost.

Either way, he would've died. It just shouldn't have been on his terms.

Emily was behind you. She flipped her phone open and then you heard a sigh of relief. "Garcia just messaged me," she told you. "Morgan's okay."

Spencer and Rossi let out their own sighs while you muttered a small "Thank God" under your breath. You hadn't known Derek Morgan for long, but he was good, and he felt like a friend.

You didn't have many of those.

You got back to the floor you were on in little time, and everyone parted ways, likely going to rest. The night was over—this was over. You, on the other hand, still had some administrative work to do, starting with checking on the Secretary of Defense.

But before you did anything, you stood there. You stood there and watched the team trickle out of the area, everyone but Hotch. He was still down there.

You went to glance back to see if he was coming up but then thought better of it, choosing to walk away instead.

He's fine, you thought. He was fine.

And so were you.

❧

You got off the phone with the DOD, your last in a long line of phone calls, telling them that the threat had been eliminated as far as you were concerned. You would've been out of that hospital ASAP, but they asked you to stay there until the new Secret Service detail arrived, and you couldn't really say no.

The lack of action suddenly made you more aware of your surroundings. Your senses returned to you; the smell of bleach became more pungent, and the fluorescent lights seemed to just bounce off the white tile.

With nothing else to focus on, the pain in your side returned, too, but you were good at handling pain. It hurt to breathe, but the alternative was relapsing, and you'd come too far for that.

Normally, when you were craving drugs or just stressed, you'd find a drink. It wasn't the best coping mechanism, but it worked. Alcohol wasn't strong enough to hook you; it was just enough to sate you, to take your mind off the pills.

However, you were in a hospital, and none of that was around. So you went looking for the next best thing: coffee.

You found a mini coffee bar in a nearby waiting room, right next to a vending machine. It was one of the automatic ones that took capsules. The selection was pretty shitty, but you weren't exactly expecting premium Italian coffee, so you plopped a pod into the machine, anyway.

You waited for your coffee to brew in silence, listening to the sound of the machine whirring. The PA dinged in the background and footsteps were muffled. You had a habit of listening for those, for footsteps. Most times, like now, if you weren't preoccupied, you could detect them right away.

You sensed Hotch when he was 5 feet away. You could recognize his footsteps so easily, but that was the habit.

You told yourself it was the job.

Without turning around, you quietly greeted, "Agent Hotchner."

He returned your greeting, grabbing a styrofoam cup and going to stand next to you. "Y/N." His voice was as saccharine as the sugar you poured into your coffee.

 You hated that, and you hated what it implied.

The case was over. The threat was defeated. And now you were alone together with a conversation unfinished, a conversation you'd much rather not have.

To think that, when you last saw Hotch in Virginia, you were all for the game, the chase. But now it felt like the roles were reversed. This was different. He shouldn't be talking to me.

But he was.

"Yo���"

You cut him off, "How's Kate?" Low blow, Y/N. The breath of air he sucked in made you look up from the creamer to his face. His eyes were no longer on you; they were on the machine as it poured his coffee, but you understood. You could taste apology on your lips before you even said the words. "I'm sorry."

Hotch nodded, grabbing his coffee from the tray when it was finished brewing. "She wasn't in pain," he said. That's all there was to say, really. She wasn't in pain when she died, nor was she in pain when you found her.

Kate Joyner was dead the second that blast hit.

But you spoke none of this. You went to grab your cup, intending to walk away, but Hotch stopped you, placing his hand on your arm before you could fully turn away. You stopped yourself from intaking a sharp breath.

"You're avoiding me."

He said it so plainly, like you were talking about a case or the weather, like this was normal, like the two of you didn't see each other every other year at most, like you weren't you and he wasn't him. It made you want to screw your eyes shut, but you didn't. As if to prove a point, you turned yourself toward him fully, facing him head on.

"I'm not."

"You are."

Your eyes narrowed. "I'm not an unsub, Hotchner. I'm not gonna fold to this interrogation tactic."

"I met you as an unsub," he retorted.

"But I wasn't." You let out a little scoff, half amused, half annoyed. "How would you know if I was avoiding you? You didn't know me then, and you don't know me now."

"But I want to."

Whatever reply you were expecting, it wasn't that. Your breath got caught in your throat. His voice was still so soft, a harsh contrast to the cuts littered across his face. He took a step closer to you. "I want to know you."

You blinked once in shock, almost like you were checking if you were hallucinating, but when your eyes opened, he was still there. When you blinked a second time, it was in realization.

He's just been told Kate's dead, and now whatever pain meds they gave him are kicking in.

Reality slapped you across the face. You took a step back, slowly shaking your head. "You don't want to know me, Hotchner."

He took another step forward. "I do."

Another step back. "You don't." You shook your head again, emphasizing your point. "You really don't."

"Y/N—"

The shrill sound of your ringtone cut him off, and you'd never been so grateful. You picked it up immediately. "Y/L/N." The lady on the other end got to it quick; all you had to do was agree. "Okay, I'll be there momentarily. Thanks."

You hung up your cell, snapping it shut. You gave Hotch a glance before you were looking away, letting your eyes wander everywhere else. "That was the DOD. Secret Service is here. I have to go check out with them." You didn't let him get a word in. "I'll see you around, Agent Hotchner."

And then, just like every other time Aaron Hotchner had ever been in your proximity, you were leaving. In his grasp one second, in the mist in the next.

He watched you walk away wordlessly, not knowing when he'd see you again, words he was going to say dying on his lips.

And then you were gone.

He let out a long sigh, and then looked to his coffee on the mini table, spotting a similar one right next to it. 

You left your coffee there, he realized.

With all the other things you left, too.

5. The gavel and the gun

Southbridge, Virginia, 2008

You didn't find yourself down in Virginia too often, not unless you were on business, but Derek assured you that tonight was about everything but that.

"I'm breaking you out of your shell, angel," he said, making a turn on Curtis Drive. "You need to get out more."

You snorted. "One, I don't have a shell. Two, I am literally out so much that my apartment collects dust, and three," you held up a third finger, despite his close attention to the road, "that's bullshit. You just want me to score you some hot chicks."

He let out a burly laugh, something you'd gotten used to after hanging out with him. "Baby, I don't need you to pick anyone up for me. I can do that all on my own."

"What, are you afraid that I'll steal all your girls, Morgan?"

His reply was swift. "Couldn't do that if you tried, Y/N/N. You're still hung up on Hotch."

Your jaw nearly fell, but you were used to this banter you had. You quipped back, "Please, the only one hung up on anyone here is you. You want Garcia."

He choked on his own spit, making you throw your head back and laugh. He didn't see that one coming.

You caught onto Derek's feelings for Garcia early on, but they became especially prominent when he was buzzed one night and told you she was the one on call with him when he drove that ambulance into the field.

That was six months ago. And now, you were in Derek Morgan's car, trying to coax him into asking out a woman with whom he violated many HR regulations.

Derek clearly didn't have a response which only made you laugh harder. You patted his back while he recovered. "Caaaaareful, muscles. I don't want to die on my way to a bar. I'm literally in the CIA—that would be so heavily anti-climactic."

The only thing he heard in that sentence was his nickname, snapping out of his stupor. "Okay, this 'muscles' thing is starting to feel less like a compliment and more condescending." 

You huffed out a little chuckle as he put the car in park. "And 'angel' isn't?"

He furrowed his brows, opening his door. "You love that name."

You copied his movements, getting out of the car before pointedly looking at him. "Yeah, when the words 'of death' follow it."

He snorted. "Cryptic." He held his arm out for you, to which you obliged, wrapping yours in his before walking into the estabishment with him.

You would've responded and teased him further had you not been cut off by an oddly familiar voice. "Morgan!" Your head snapped to a table where not only the object of your teasing stood, but all of their crime-fighting friends. From afar, you watched Penelope's eyes widen behind her glasses. Then she squealed, "And Y/N!" 

To her credit, she did look just the slightest bit embarrassed when people turned to stare at her.

She still wasn't used to you. And God, was that comical.

A smirk crawled onto your face as you walked to their table, glancing at Derek and recalling your earlier quip. "Ooh, careful, Morgan. Your girl's a fan. I might just take her."

For a guy that nearly died in the car at the mention of her, he didn't seem all that startled. In fact, a smirk of his own graced his face. "I doubt you'll be focused on Penelope tonight, angel."

Your brows pinched together, but before you could question what he meant, you reached the table. JJ and Emily greeted you with wide smiles, the latter pulling you in for a hug that was surprising but not unwelcome. Garcia followed right behind her, hesitantly wrapping her arms around you. You cleared this hesitancy by embracing her tightly. Goodness, she's precious.

Over her shoulder, you mouthed to Morgan, Don't fuck it up.

When you let her go, Rossi tipped his glass at you while Reid just gave you an awkward wave. For his benefit, you resisted the urge to laugh.

You spun back around to flash a smug smile at Morgan, eager for him to see that you weren't fazed by this little surprise he so clearly wanted to jar you with, but then your eyes locked with a darker pair and you realized, oh. They weren't the surprise.

He was.

"Y/N."

What was this feeling? Winded? Was it— breathless? You couldn't describe it; you'd only felt it a few times in life, and you didn't know why you felt it right now. Eventually, you realized you had to answer. 

"Hotchner."

You were going to fucking strangle Derek Morgan.

❧

If it wasn't considered rude and you weren't surrounded by a horde of profilers, you would've been texting Derek furiously. It didn't help that the only spot left at the table was next to the man you'd be texting about.

Derek was fun to party with—you went out with him all the time—but whenever he invited you out with the rest of the BAU, you politely declined and came up with whatever excuse was available. Clearly, he caught on to the reason.

You've been avoiding me.

And maybe that was true.

A gasp broke you out of your thoughts. You looked over to see Penelope jumping out of her seat. "Oh, my god, I love this song. Derek, get up right now, we're going to dance," she all but demanded.

It's then that you noticed that JJ and Emily had already beat them to the dance floor, and Spencer was being talked up by some girl at the bar. 

No— "Alright, alright, calm down, mama, I'm coming." You glared daggers at him as he flashed you a sly grin, then he wrapped an arm around Penelope and left. He left you alone with Hotch and Rossi.

At least Rossi's still here— "You know, I think I'm going to get another drink." You're kidding.

Apparently, he was not kidding. Rossi got up, and you could've sworn you saw him wink at Hotch before he left for the bar.

And then there were two.

Fuck.

Now that the others were all gone, you felt his proximity much more prominently. If you moved just the slightest bit, your knees would touch. You hated that the thought even crossed your mind.

But you couldn't leave. If you left, then it'd be obvious that you were, in fact, avoiding him, and you didn't want it to be obvious. It shouldn't have been obvious because there was nothing there to avoid; the two of you were nothing, so you had no reason to avoid him.

You were nothing.

Even if, for a second, you might've felt something.

"What's wrong?" His voice cut into the tension like it was butter. But the question didn't sound like concern; if you didn't know any better, you'd say it was almost teasing. 

You finally looked at him, turning your head and realizing he was closer than you thought. Close enough to see the specks of green in his eyes and the locks of hair falling over his face. Close enough that you could push those locks back if you wanted to. And you wanted to. 

But you didn't.

You schooled your expression and raised a brow, causing him to elaborate, "You were much more flirtatious when we didn't know each other."

Of course, I was, is what you wanted to say. Of course, you were; that was before whatever happened in D.C., before you danced with him and before you let him down. Before reality came knocking and showed him that you were polar opposites, that he was a man of the gavel and you were a woman of the gun. Before he confronted you. Before he told you that he wanted to know you.

So, of course. Of course, I was. Because what the hell was I supposed to do with that?

That's what you wanted to say, but you didn't. Instead, you countered, "Why do you assume something's wrong? Maybe I've just lost interest in our game."

Hotch looked at you like he knew that was a load of bull. He looked you up and down like he could see right through you, and you hated that, because if he looked hard enough, he just might. You thought, for a second, he'd drop it, but then he came back harder. "Is that because you're not winning?"

Taken aback, you laughed to hide how astounded you were, looking away as you deflected, "You must've been one hell of a lawyer, Agent Hotchner." 

He let you re-route the conversation, humming. "I was good at my field," he admitted, pausing briefly. "I actually got my nickname while I was working at the DA's office, Hotch."

"Oh?" you uttered, disinterest shining through your voice that you hoped he'd pick up on.

"Yeah. And now it's what everybody calls me." Another pause. "Everybody but you."

You turned back to him. Clearly, that's what he wanted from you with that statement. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting on you for something—you just didn't know what. "You dwell on what I call you?"

He shrugged like he was unbothered. "It's just an observation. You refer to everyone using their first name, even Kate. At one point, I think you even said our names consecutively. Agent Hotchner and then Kate."

Shit, you didn't remember that, but he was probably right. It must've been a blip, you must not have been paying attention. Still, you shrugged right back at him. "I don't put that much thought into it."

He continued like you'd never said anything. "You said my name after the blast." You stiffened. "Repeatedly. And then, once we were in the hospital, you were back to formality."

You forced a smile onto your face in attempts to mask the discomfort. "So?" you said. Like you weren't affected. Like you weren't surprised that he noticed or equally surprised that he was calling you out on it.

"So," he repeated. "What's holding you back from saying my name?"

Damnit, he had you. He had you, and he knew it. You knew he knew it based on the fire in his eyes, fire with intent to burn.

But you had more. 

You had walked through fire; you were forged in fire, so this was a challenge you'd accept.

You leaned in closer, just until your mouth was next to his ear. He inhaled sharply. Good. Slowly, you breathed, "What's in a name... Hotchner?"

When you leaned back, you were met with a thrown-off-Hotch, but you didn't stick around to savour the image. You hopped off your barstool and left the table, opting to go dance with Emily and JJ as opposed to let him have the last word.

If you had it your way, he wouldn't get another word in for the rest of the night.

If only you could always have it your way.

❧

You danced with the girls the rest of the night, Hotch forgotten. The others were elsewhere, off on their own. They were good company, and it was nice to hang out with other women. Eventually, the dancing wore them out and they decided it was time to head out, making sure to exchange numbers with you and add you to their group chat before they bid you farewell.

Something told you they were a little more than friends, but you weren't sure if they even knew that.

Alone, you decided to get off the dance floor, making your way over to the bar to text Derek. It was getting late; the bar would close soon, and you wanted to head home. But when you opened your phone, you already had a message from him—timestamped an hour ago. Furrowing your brows, you clicked on it.

Sorry, angel, but Pen opened a window for me and I had to take it.

If you know what I mean ;)

Please don't kill me. I'll send a car for you when you're ready.

Audibly, you groaned, closing your eyes in exhaustion. Of course, he shot his shot with Garcia on the night he's meant to drive you home. And you couldn't even be that mad about it. 

You sighed, accepting it and going to open your Uber app when a voice queried from behind you, "Are you alright?"

Fuckkkkkk, you were really hoping he left by now. Reluctantly, you turned around, facing Hotch. "Yeah, Derek was my ride home, but he um," you paused, wiping a hand across your face, "he got lucky."

"With Garcia?"

You laughed at how transparent it was and how quick he, their boss, was to get it. "Yeah, so I'm just gonna catch an Uber home."

"Don't be ridiculous; I'll drive you home." You were shocked at how quickly he shot you down, looking up at him to see he was being totally serious.

"No, you are being ridiculous. I live all the way in Washington."

He shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing, like you were friends and his offer was normal. "I live in Arlington—it's not out of the way. Besides, would you rather pay for an hour-long car ride or have me drive you for free?" 

Honestly, you'd rather do many things besides let Hotch drive you home for an hour, so you excused, "I'm good for the money."

He rolled his eyes. "It's 1AM, Y/N; I'm not gonna let you take an Uber home." He nodded to the exit. "Come on, let's go."

Now you rolled your eyes. He'd made up his mind, despite your disapproval. Yet you still glanced down at your phone, debating it. You supposed that he was better than a total stranger, and it was only an hour.

Maybe you were tired and your judgement was impaired, but for some reason, you obliged. "Fine."

You didn't know if it was a trick of light, but for a second there, it looked like Hotch's lips quirked upward.

For a second.

❧

The car ride was silent if not for the music drumming lowly in the background. You didn't crack any jokes or say anything playful or innapropriate; you were a silence filler, you hated silence, but you'd rather sit in silence than talk to Aaron Hotchner any longer than you had to.

His presence was already pushing it.

If Hotch noticed how quiet you were, which he likely did, then he didn't comment on it. You were sure that he was profiling you silently, though, the same way you were silently profiling him.

He wasn't driving his official government vehicle, but it was still a black SUV. Not a Tahoe, though; it was an Escalade. It wasn't too proud or boastful but it wasn't too unassuming, either. Expensive but not too much of a head-turner.

A glance to the back displayed a car seat. You suspected that his son was with his ex-wife, since he was here at one in the morning and not at home. He was a stable father, and you could tell.

You knew what instability looked like.

The CD he had in when you got into the car was the White Album, Beatles. That, you could've guessed easily. It fit.

The car was clean. It smelled like peppermint and his cologne. If you opened the glove box, you'd probably find a gun. He carried two on his person while working, so he probably had one in here and then another at his place.

Prepared.

But what neither of you were prepared for was the sudden downpour of rain.

Hotch turned on his windshield wipers, then you saw a flash of white followed by a loud clap of thunder. He cursed under his breath, and you then cursed yourself for finding it attractive. "It's a storm."

"I can see that."

He ignored your quip. "Well, we're already in Arlington. My apartment is two minutes away—we could stop there until it's clear."

You held back a sigh. Regardless of your feelings, it was unsafe to drive in this weather. That's why you agreed. "Okay."

He wasn't lying about being two minutes away. With in no time, you were in front of his complex. Running inside barely did anything; you were drenched after being outside for maybe ten seconds.

The thunder was loud and continuous; the only place you didn't hear it was in the elevator. Then it returned once you were out, walking through the halls to his apartment.

You were on your phone while he unlocked the door, checking the weather app. This time you couldn't repress the sigh that left you. "Forecast says this storm's going all night."

"Oh." He opened the door, holding it open for you. "Well, you can stay the night." What? "I'll drive you home first thing in the morning."

"Um—"

He gestured to his living room, suggesting, "I'll take the couch. You can have the bed." Well, it wasn't really a suggestion, and you didn't have much of a choice, either.

So you nodded. He said something about going to change and fetch you clothes, and then you were alone in Aaron Hotchner's foyer.

You. In his apartment.

You thought back to when you met him, in an interrogation room as he accused you of being a serial killer. And you were a killer, just not that kind. Yet, now, he willingly had you, a gun for the government, in his apartment. This was the same Aaron Hotchner who prosecuted criminals, who hunted down evil, and believed in justice and court of law. The same Aaron Hotchner who frowned upon your unseriousness and grey morals. And he was also the same Aaron Hotchner that stood next to you in a hospital waiting room and told you he wanted to know you.

God, it was ironic. Him wanting to know you. You didn't know if he understood what that meant, what that entailed. 

He was the gavel, and you were the gun.

And that was that.

He walked back into the room after a good three minutes, changed into attire more informal than you'd ever seen him. He wore a button-down and jeans to the bar, but you didn't imagine you'd ever see him in sweats.

"Bathroom's on the left," he told you, pointing to it. "Feel free to use the shower. I left some clothes on the bed for you, and if you need anything, I'll be out here."

You nodded, saying a quiet "thanks" before you walked past him to his room. You'd skip the shower; you didn't have any underwear for that.

Closing the door, you took a moment to scan his room. Bed in the middle, navy blue sheets. Window facing the door, dark red curtains covering them. There was a closet to the side, likely filled with suits, then a dresser across from the bed for ties and everything else.

There were two nightstands on either side of the bed, a frame on one. When you got closer, you saw it was a picture of a little boy with a grin so wide that it brought a smile to your face. 

On the bed, Hotch left you a pair of grey jogging pants and a worn blue hoodie with George Washington University painted on in chipped white in the middle. You changed out of your wet dress, and all hesitation for wearing Hotch's clothes went out the door the second you put on his hoodie.

The sweatpants were just as comfortable, despite having to pull the drawstrings immensely far. You could fall asleep like this no problem, but then just as you went for the bed, the light cut out, drowning you in darkness.

You're kidding me.

There was a knock on the bedroom door soon after. You weren't sure if you could find it without stumbling or knocking something over, so you just shouted, "Come in."

Hotch's head poked in, illuminating the room with the flashlight on his phone. "It's the whole neighbourhood. Do you want a candle?"

Yes, I do. You had a thing about sleeping in the dark, but like hell if you were gonna tell him that. A CIA agent, afraid of the dark—you weren't telling anybody that. "No, I'm good, but um," why am I stammering? "Could I get some water, please?"

"Yes, of course." Hotch was quick to leave the room for what you requested, and you were quick to follow him. He was the one with the flashlight.

His kitchen was barely visible, but you caught a glimpse of a few drawings on the fridge. When he lit a candle and placed it on the counter, you saw the the drawings were finger paintings, one of a whole child's hand. Again, you couldn't stop the corners of your lips from curving upwards.

Aaron Hotchner. You'd seen the prosecutor, the profiler, the unit chief, and now the father.

"Here." Hotch's voice cut through your thoughts as he handed you a glass of water. You didn't even hear when he turned the tap on.

You wordlessly took the water, thanking him with a nod. He stood there as you took a sip, watching you with a gaze that felt scrutinizing but probably wasn't. He was good at hiding what he was thinking, but you could still tell that he was thinking, nonetheless.

In a split-second decision, you lost the battle with yourself not to engage in conversation. "What? Did you poison this?"

He ignored you, like always, and questioned, "Are you afraid of the dark?"

You just barely stopped yourself from choking, masking your cough with a chuckle. "What?" How the fuck did he guess that?

Vaguely, he added, "You seem like the type."

"Oh, 'I seem like the type?'" you echoed. "Is that your normal-person way of saying 'it fits with my profile?'"

He shrugged. "More or less."

Another chuckle left you, this time unforced. You were wondering if he was drinking before you and Derek showed up. This confidence and nonchalance was new, but amusing. Maybe you had one too many drinks, too, or maybe something about this version of Aaron was drawing you in, but you indulged him. "Okay, Hotchner. Give me my profile."

He paused, looking at you like he was debating if you really meant it but you saw the moment he made up his mind, decision flashing through his eyes. He gave you a once-over, but not because he needed to; you had a feeling this profile had been brewing for a while now.

"You're a control freak," he started. "This doesn't just shine through in your work—it also appears in your day-to-day life, like your overwhelming need to fill silence or dislike for the dark. This comes from a period of your life when you weren't in control, and now you have to control every situation you encounter. You come off as easygoing, but in reality, you're closed off. You hide behind jokes and arrogance because you don't want people to know the real you, but every once in a while, she reveals herself. She cares, but you can't have that be used against you, so you pretend you don't. You don't have many friends because that opens doors, and you are afraid of what is behind them. That is why, even as you stand in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, you still refuse to say my name. It's a defense mechanism, a way for you to create distance because, as much as you deny it, you feel something."

Somewhere in his explanation, he got closer to you. He never broke eye contact, not once. He stared at you like you were a puzzle he was waiting to solve, and he had too many pieces. You suddenly wished you'd never asked.

You intook a deep breath. "Ho—"

He cut you off, voice now just above a whisper. "What are you hiding from, Y/N?"

What am I hiding from?

Your eyes involuntarily darted down to his lips, and he caught it. He took another step closer, and you let him. What am I hiding from?

Your breath was shaky as Hotch leaned down, resting his forehead against yours. One movement and your lips would touch. You wondered what it'd feel like. To kiss him. To stop hiding. 

What are you hiding from, Y/N?

You leaned in, and then just before your lips met his, the lights turned back on.

Just like that, you pulled away, the sound of your racing heart concealed by the sound of the heater kicking back on. "I should— I should get back to bed now." You kept your eyes on the tile.

"Y/N—"

"Um, thank you for the water—"

"Y/N."

Finally, you looked up at him, concern and confusion swimming in his eyes, and you understood it. One second, you were on the verge of kissing, and now you were on the verge of tears. You didn't understand it, either.

But this, whatever it was, it couldn't happen. This was a lapse of your judgement. He was Aaron Hotchner, the prosecutor, the profiler, the unit chief, and the father: the gavel. You were Y/N Y/L/N, the hacker, the director, the addict, and the killer: the gun. 

This wasn't gonna happen.

So you loaded a round into the chamber, put your finger on the trigger, and took the safety off. Then you aimed it at yourself and fired, "You're a good man, Aaron." Too good for me.

You think he was too shocked by his own name, and that's why he let you walk away.

And as you closed his bedroom door, you had a feeling that it wasn't the only door you just closed.

6. A lie is the truth (link)

taglist: @flow33didontsmoke

extra a/n: guys i'm so mad ab this block limit and how this can't be one part but wtv!!

[byeoltoyuki]

Criminal Love

↳ Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

❧ Genre : romance , smut, forced proximity, morally grey reader

❧ Words: +25k

❧ Warnings: violence, mention of knives, guns, smut

❧ Summary: Hyunjin was a good agent. At least, he thought he was. The moment he is ordered to work with a very unpredictable, dangerous you (who also happens to be his little crush), things change. At every step you test his patience, push his limits only to see how far he’s ready to go.

❧ A/N : Aaaaaand it's finally out! It took me longer than I expected to finish this piece. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it! Like and reblogs are appreciated, comments too ♥

❧ Taglist: @lostgirlinthewoodss , @rylea08 , @minimin1993 , @avokralaim , @cheekycountesschoi , @rockyhedgehog , @skzfelixlove , @hyundai432 , @hyunlvrs , @naoristerling

“Did you hear? She got suspended. Again.”

Hyunjin was not eavesdropping. Not really. Not completely. It wasn’t even his fault in the first place if people weren’t being discrete and he just happened to be having his coffee right here. It wasn’t also his fault that the simple mention of suspension and again meant only one thing: you.

And that did get his attention. Without even realizing it, Hyunjin leant a little closer while sipping his coffee, wanting to hear more about their complaints.

“Again?” The second woman sighed and shook her head in disapproval. “It’s the second time this month alone! I really don’t understand how they allow her to work here.”

To that Hyunjin actually had an answer. Or at least half of it. The bosses could disagree with your behavior, your rudeness, your methods all they wanted – you were the only one who didn’t hesitate to dirty your hands, to infiltrate the darkest places and succeed. The results were staggering. No other agents managed to accomplish as much as you did in only two years. They hated you and admired you at the same time. And those women were no different. They could complain about you all they wanted, but they were simply jealous.

Yes, you were an incredible agent. Yes, your methods were questionable and a little bit bloody for Hyunjin’s liking (he shivered at the memory of you throwing a knife at another agent, grazing his ear, because he had offended you). But you were also a dangerous, cold beauty that they envied.

Jisung plopped beside Hyunjin with his own coffee in one hand. He observed his friend for a moment before smirking. “Why the long face? It’s only nine in the morning.”

Hyunjin ignored his comment, his attention was still on the women, straining to hear more about you. Unfortunately for him, they were done complaining. Or maybe they stopped because of the two men’s presence.

He sighed. “They’re talking about Y/N.”

Jisung snickers. “Of course they are.” He took a sip of his coffee, smiling knowingly into the cup. “And you’ve been eavesdropping because?”

Hyunjin shrugged, pretending that it was nothing. As if Jisung wasn’t already aware of why he was so interested. He took a sip of his own coffee, only to wince and realize that while he had been so concentrated on the conversation, his coffee got cold. What a lovely day, it couldn’t get worse.

“Because I thrive on gossips.” Hyunjin tried to make it sound like it was not a big deal. He wasn’t lying, not completely at least. He did enjoy office gossips; sometimes because the gossips were so ridiculous, he couldn’t understand how people could believe their words. Sometimes, because he would catch info he could use later.

“Yeah. It has nothing to do with our sweet and lovely Y/N.” Jisung mocked.

Hyunjin sighed in defeat. There was no use pretending with Jisung, despite his looks and his nonchalant attitude, he was incredibly observant and Hyunjin’s little (fat) crush on you didn’t go unnoticed. “Fine. I couldn’t help myself.”

Jisung’s grin stretched and he leaned closer, ready to either tease him till he would cry or be a good friend and end his misery. “See, not so hard! And since I’m an amazing friend, I will even help you. I know why they’re talking about Y/N.”

Hyunjin cocked a brow, taken off guard. But it made sense. The two of you were friends, Hyunjin just never guessed you would talk about your cases with him.

“Our little Y/N was hunting a criminal for the past week. Can’t remember his name even if I helped her to track him. He took a hostage, threatened the man’s life. What a bad idea, but he couldn’t know that, could he? She shot the victim in the leg to shock the dude. Worked marvelously. She got him.”

Was it anyone else, Hyunjin would have been surprised. But he wasn’t. The only thing that still surprised him was your creative ways at getting things done. Apparently, nothing could stop you. Not even someone’s else life was on the line.

“How did she even explain herself?” Hyunjin wondered out loud.

“That’s a good question.” Jisung admitted and shrugged, “She has her ways, I guess. She doesn’t tell me everything.”

“Sure about that?”

Jisung gave him a lazy smile. “By the way, boss wants to see you. Right now.”

Hyunjin groaned and quickly got back on his feet. “And you couldn’t tell me sooner?”

“Nope.” Jisung laughed, “Was enjoying the moment, you know.”

***

Hyunjin was not excited to see the boss. Not because he didn’t do his work and risked to get scolded, but more like every time he went to his office he could be sure to leave with some bad news. And that, he wished to avoid. He was tired and frustrated with his case. He had been working on the same case for the past few weeks and unfortunately, even with Jisung’s help, he couldn’t track the hacker that had been attacking big companies. The man or the woman was a ghost, leaving little clues to his or hers identity and it was slowly driving him crazy. 

Before he could even knock at the door, he heard voices. Especially one voice. Yours. And by the sound of it, he could easily guess that you were not pleased. Not to say pissed. He hesitated, hand frozen mid-air. Should he knock? Should he wait? But then, Namjoon wanted to see him and if you were already inside, he wondered if whatever the news was, you were supposed to hear it too. Curious, really. And unheard of.

Hyunjin took a deep breath and then pushed the door, deciding that with all the yelling, his knock would go unnoticed. Barely one foot in the office and Hyunjin halted, flinching as a vase flew straight to the wall beside him, shattering in pieces.

Well, you were in a mood.

Hyunjin was highly aware of your temper, heard stories about it, witnessed a few times too. It amazed him how you didn’t try to hide it. Some agents were just like you, anger eating them from inside, but they would do their best to hide their feelings just to avoid the troubles.

You didn’t and he had to admit that he found it a little hot. Maybe there was something wrong with him too.

He had been working for Namjoon for a little over five years and it was definitely a first for him to see someone show so much anger before him. Or was it directed at him? Which would be even odder. 

He cleared his throat and before he could utter a single word, your eyes found his. He froze, forgetting how to breathe for a second. There was so much fire, so much rage in your eyes, it was unsettling. Hyunjin wasn’t a coward, in fact, because of his pretty face people often underestimated him, when really, he was a great manipulator when needed and could fight for his life if required. But facing your fiery character and the anger in your eyes made his skin crawl and wish for the floor to swallow him whole. 

What a lovely creature. 

One last angry glare from you and then you huffed, crossed your arms over your chest and took a seat, ignoring his existence. 

Namjoon shook his head and sighed. Apparently, Hyunjin wasn’t the only tired one, the man looked like a ghost himself with dark circles under his eyes. “Come in, Hyunjin. Take a seat.” And then he looked at you again, pinning you with his stare, a silent communication going on. 

Whatever Namjoon had to say, you were part of it, now he was sure about it. He didn’t know how he felt about it. 

Hyunjin sat in the empty chair beside you, having a hard time not to look at you. He didn’t have many opportunities to be in your presence or even talk to you. No, you weren’t a kind of person who appreciated getting involved with others. Quite the opposite. Less you saw them and happier you were. And yet, despite this coldness, you were Jisung’s friend and Hyunjin couldn’t stop but wonder how Jisung managed to convince you that he was worth a shot. He was the opposite of you; lively, always friendly, spending half of his time cracking jokes. And yet, it worked. Unfortunately, Hyunjin never managed to get close to you which left him with no choice but admire you from afar. 

“I’ll make it short.” Namjoon started, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, looking stern and at the same time, preparing for another storm to blow up his office. Namjoon was indeed very tired and wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit. “I need both of you to work together on a case. And before you protest,” He pointed at you, his scowl deepening as he noticed you clenching your fists, ready to jump and protest, “It’s not negotiable.”

“You got to be kidding me!” You groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “You know I can’t work with him.” You pointed an accusing finger at Hyunjin as if he had personally offended you. Which he didn’t. Or at least, Hyunjin wasn’t aware.

“I’m not leaving you a choice, Y/N. Not this time.” Namjoon didn’t budge, his mind set. “Moreover, there’s no way you can succeed without his help.”

Hyunjin observed you in silence, his mind still trying to come to terms with the idea of working with you. He didn’t dislike the idea as much as you did, for obvious reasons. It was his chance to find out more about you, to solve a mystery he was so curious about. But it was obvious you didn’t share the sentiment; you were gritting your teeth, ready to snap.

“Is it a challenge?” You tried, hoping to avoid to work with Hyunjin.

Namjoon leaned on his elbows and looked straight into your eyes. “You can scream and kick all you want; I’m not changing my mind.” Then, he averted his gaze on Hyunjin. “I promise, she’ll come around.”

Hyunjin wasn’t so sure and you proved him right by mumbling a ‘like hell I will’. This was going to be an interesting experience.

“What’s the case?” Hyunjin asked, ignoring the thick tension in the room. He fought the urge to glance at you and instead gave his full attention to Namjoon.

“The two of you are going to fly to Hong Kong. I got you an invitation to a gallery opening party. You must attend it as a newly married.” Hyunjin blinked in confusion. When he was called into Namjoon’s office, he did not expect this turn of events.

“What do you know about Park Minjun?” Namjoon asked and eyed the two of you, his eyes lingering a little longer on you.

Hyunjin had a feeling he had heard the name before but couldn’t pinpoint from where. You, on the other hand, knew. You straightened up on your chair, all business. “He’s the CEO of PM Security. Worth billions if I remember correctly.”

Namjoon nodded. “We got a tip. Apparently he’s been selling weapons to dangerous people. Another deal is about to happen. I need you to find out what’s the deal about and find the names.” Namjoon finished, then with one final look at the two of you. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, “ You started and, without even looking at you, Hyunjin felt your murderous aura. “Can I punch you for this brilliant idea?”

Yeah. It’s gonna work out just fine.

***

You were still fuming at the idea of working with Hyunjin as the two of you stepped out of Namjoon’s office. Just because you couldn’t actually punch Namjoon as you desperately wished, you slammed the door behind you to make your point.

“Asshole.” You cursed under your breath, forgetting for a second that you were not alone in the hall and Hyunjin was still observing you. But for safety reason, he put some space between the two of you. He could tell you were craving violence and someone to blame for the outcome. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to get into a fight with his supposed partner for the next case.

Hyunjin watched you with crossed arms over his chest as you took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching your fists in hope to cool down. Impressive temper indeed. He wasn’t a violent person and wasn’t really attracted to violence but as he stared at you, from head to toe, he couldn’t deny that it suited you. You’re in deep shit, Hyunjin.

He thought about the mission, thought about pretending to be a couple and playing his part. Could he really play pretend? He did it a few times, of course. But with you? He wasn’t sure he would come out unscathed.

“We can make it work.” Hyunjin tried to convince you. Or maybe he was trying to convince himself with those words.

It didn’t convince you. You snapped your head towards him and assessed him. You knew who he was, not only because you had memorized every faces and names of people working here, but also because Jisung couldn’t shut up about him and about how amazing he was. He was a handsome man, that you could admit, as for being amazing, you weren’t convinced. The men working for Namjoon tended to be all the same; some with pretty faces and arrogant attitude. Not your cup of tea. And yet, even if it pained you to admit, Hyunjin looked different from them. Just by the way he was watching you, you could tell he wasn’t underestimating you just because you were a woman. No, he was also assessing you and wondering how it could work.

“It can’t be that bad.” He tried again, sounding a little bit more enthusiastic.

You finally moved from your spot and slowly approached him, watching him like a predator that you were. Hyunjin tensed. You grabbed him by his tie and pulled him closer to you. “You better watch out, Hwang or I might kill you in your sleep and make it look like an accident.”

Such a lovely creature, working with you surely would be fun.

***

Jisung was laughing so hard at the news, he fell from his chair. It didn’t stop him from laughing, quite the opposite. He held his stomach, unable to calm down. He had expected Namjoon to give Hyunjin shit for not having any break in his case. But it was so much better. Oh how he wished he could have witnessed the whole mess. Knowing you, Jisung had no problem imagining how delighted you were with the mission.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin groaned, palming his face.

It had been two hours since he found out about the mission. Two hours since your threat. Two hours since he couldn’t shake off the image of you pulling at his tie, threatening him so close to his lips. Yes, he wanted to find out more about you. Yes, he wanted to get close to you. But maybe he got more than he bargained for.

“Oh hell man, I’m having a blast.” Jisung cackled and wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes. “You and Y/N? Working together? Pretending to be married?” Just from saying it again, he laughed and Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself; he kicked his shin. “Ouch!”

“You deserved it.” Hyunjin responded unapologetic.

“Can you blame me? You two are so different. I don’t know how Namjoon came up with this idea.” He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I know you’re going to try and make it work but Y/N…”

Hyunjin could only hope that your wish to succeed would be stronger than your aversion to working with him.

“She’s going to eat you alive.”

***

Hyunjin didn’t get even have a wink of sleep last night. Not this close to the departure for the mission. One week was what Namjoon gave the two of you to get your shit together and prepare.

Easy to say.

Hyunjin tried to reach out to you in hope to talk and prepare your story in case you had to share it with people, especially about your marriage. You ignored all his attempts. He had tried. He tried to talk to you, to get to you through Jisung, tried to corner you. And failed. You were slowly driving him nuts and even his optimism was slowly fading.

He was waiting for you at the airport, nervous. After ignoring him for a week, you finally texted him last night, giving the time and spot to meet at the airport. A message that frustrated him to no end.

He checked his watch and frowned. You were running late. Maybe the traffic or maybe you were toying with him. Probably the latter. But then, as he raised his head, he saw you. He spotted you among the parting crowd, walking confidently and looking too good to be real. You wore white jeans, a black tank top with a leather jacket. Your hairs were tied up in a messy bun with few strands framing your flawless face.

Hyunjin forgot how to breath as you drew nearer.

“Hello, Hwang.” You smiled wickedly, your smile promising torture.

“You’re late.” Hyunjin wanted to slap himself. He wasn’t planning to pick a fight with you, but somehow his brain refused to cooperate.

You arched a brow, amused. “Am I?” And took another step towards him. “Or were you just too eager to see me?”

Yes, you were definitely toying with him. He refused to play your game and instead he kept his face as neutral as possible. “You know I’m not happy about this mission either.” What a big liar he was.

“Sure about that?” You asked, unfazed with his attempt. “Because a little birdie told me you were delighted to find out we were paired for the mission.”

Hyunjin gawked at you, not believing his ears. “What? Who?”

Hyunjin knew way before you answered, who was behind those words but he needed to hear it.

“Your favorite hacker.”

Little shit. Han Jisung was a dead man. If he survives first.

You laughed at his pained face. Not a mocking laugh but a genuine one that made him blink and stare blankly at you. Hyunjin realized that he had never heard you laugh before and it was a nice melody to his ears. Playful, cheerful, warm.

“Come on, hubby.” You looped your arm through his, “Let’s do this.”

***

Surprisingly enough, the flight to Hong Kong was eventless.

Except for the part where you didn’t shut him out like he thought you would. No, after a whole week of trying to talk to you and plan, it was during the flight that you chose to talk. You took him completely off guard by admitting that he was right and you needed a story in case someone ask. The two of you established that you had been married for three months and had been together for two years. 

Hyunjin was bewildered how easy it was to talk to you when you weren’t threatening to kill him in his sleep. The moment you got your mind set on the mission, your feelings and opinions didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was to succeed and if for that you had to deal with him, you would do your best.

A very nice surprise.

Namjoon had thought about every little details that even Hyunjin hadn’t thought about. For instance, not even for a second Hyunjin had imagined that the two of you would have to share a room. It made sense, in a way, but it still shocked him. He was not ready for it. 

Hyunjin glanced at you, palms sweaty. He thought you would start a riot and curse Namjoon and his whole family. You did none of that. In fact, you looked completely relaxed. You pushed your suitcase toward the middle of the room and then stopped to observe the place. The room was big, huge windows that led to a small private balcony. A king size bed covered with petals of red roses and a couch that looked rather uncomfortable.  

You scoffed at the flowers, finding this little detail ridiculous. And so did Hyunjin. “He didn’t need to go to this extent.” But you didn’t seem surprised too which made him wonder how many times Namjoon had arranged things for you. 

Hyunjin followed you with his own suitcase. If there was only one bed and one couch, he would choose the couch, even if it didn’t look comfortable. He didn’t think you would accept to share a bed and he wasn’t sure he could sleep beside you at all. Not that he was scared for his life but sleeping with his crush did make him nervous. 

“Dibs on the right side of the bed.” You interrupted his trail of thoughts and threw yourself on your side of bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched Hyunjin with a smirk. 

Hyunjin gasped loudly and looked at you as if you had grown a second head. “Wait what?” 

You watched him from the bed, looking too smug for his liking. “What? Were you about to offer to sleep on the couch?” 

Hyunjin wondered if he was that predictable or if you were just that good at reading people. For a second, he considered lying to avoid embarrassment but one look at you and he knew it was pointless. He shrugged. “Yes.” 

“Don’t bother. I don’t care.” 

“Sure about that?” 

“Unless you’re a hugger, no, I don’t care.”

***

While you were taking a long, deserved shower, Hyunjin went through the few information Namjoon gave you about Park Minjun. Nothing really impressive; his family, about his wife, his kids, about his involvement with many powerful men in the society. Nothing really indicated that he had any involvement with the underground world. But then again, Hyunjin guessed that it wouldn’t be something obvious and they had to dig deeper.

Hyunjin threw his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes for a moment. The party, the CEO, pretend to be a married, happy man, you. It kept replaying in his mind. There were few hours left before the party and he couldn’t stop wondering how it would work out. How should they get close to the man and gather the needed proofs?

Before Hyunjin could delve more on the matter, you came out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around your body, water still dripping from your hair. Hyunjin opened his eyes only to gulp nervously at the sight of you. No make-up, amazing, toned body – he was both in hell and heaven. His pants grew tighter.

Instead of hiding from his intense gaze, you stopped by the bed, staring back. “Need a moment, Hwang?”

Yes. He cleared his throat and tried not to look at your legs. He knew, he shouldn’t be staring so much, but you looked just so flawless, he couldn’t tear his eyes from you.

“Still staring, darling.” You teased

Hyunjin squirmed under your amused stare. “I’m-“ sorry he wanted to say. But you didn’t want to hear his apology. No. Instead, you winked at him and then turned your back, letting him admire the view. You knew you looked good. You dropped your towel on the floor.

Hyunjin shrieked and quickly covered his eyes with his hands. You were toying with him, enjoying your moment judging by your sweet laugh.

“Cute.” He heard you whisper.

For a second, he peaked through his fingers, hoping you put some clothes on. But no. Still perfectly naked and with a glorious ass.

Shit.

“You’re enjoying this.” Hyunjin complained through gritted teeth.

You hummed, not disagreeing. You drew closer to the bed, enjoying how tensed Hyunjin got. How he desperately was trying to hide his eyes with his hands. Sadly for him, his body betrayed him. You smiled sweetly at him. “Just as much as you’re enjoying the view.” And you pointed at his pants, cackling at his pained face.

I need a shower. And a cold one.

***

Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin was ready for the party way before you. Instead of waiting for you in the room, he chose to wait in the main hall of the hotel, taking a moment to compose himself and repeat the made-up story in his head. Everything to distract him from the thought of you, naked with water dripping from your hair. He tried to shake off the image, but his mind refused to cooperate and replayed the moment over and over again like a broken record. This was torture and there was nothing he could do to escape.

“There you are, darling.” Your sweet voice echoed from behind him.

Hyunjin, very slowly, turned to face you. He sucked in his breath, taking in the sight of you. Obviously and objectively speaking, he knew you were a gorgeous woman, but tonight you had outdone yourself. The red silky dress hugged all your curves perfectly, the deep split on the left side exposed your thigh. Everything was flawless; from your dress to your hair, to your makeup – he was bewitched.

Hyunjin stared and stared, his eyes shining brightly. “You look dashing.”

You flipped your hair to make a point. “I know.”

He laughed and shook his head in fondness. Of course, you would say something like that. But then, your lips stretched into a big, genuine smile. “You look good too, hubby.” You stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand. “Let’s do it.”

***

The venue was huge and smelled of money. Impressive paintings, tables spread all around the place with food and drinks. Waiter and waitress walking around with drinks, trying not to disturb the important people. Everything was shining and glittering. A place, Hyunjin didn’t feel like he belonged to. Celebrities, politicians, the whole society had gathered at the same place. He wasn’t used to it, and he felt out of place.

You noticed it too. You nudged him playfully with your hips, grabbed his hand and squeeze it lightly. “Relax. Pretend you have loads of money and you will be just fine.”

Hyunjin glanced at you. It amazed him how natural you were. Nothing surprised you, nothing impressed you. No, you looked at the crowd, unimpressed, assessing them in silence. He bet, slowly a plan was forming in your mind. You grabbed two glasses of champagne from the closest waiter, thanking him with a smile before giving one glass to Hyunjin.

“Look,” you pointed at a person talking vividly with a man. “Park Minjun is already here. The man he’s talking to? He’s in charge of research for the army. Heard the army is developing a new weapon.”

Impressive. Hyunjin eyed the man; he looked to him like any other middle aged man in this room. Rich, wearing an expensive suit, arrogant, trying to make any more alliances.

“How do you know all that?” Hyunjin asked, admiring your knowledge.

You shrugged, your eyes still on the CEO. “I’ve been spying on them for so long. It helps.”

“Do you think Park Minjun is interested in what the army is developing?”

“Who knows.”

Hyunjin was tempted to ask more, to see what else you were hiding from him. He did none of that as he noticed some men staring at you. He recognized the look in their eyes: lust. He couldn’t blame them for lusting after his fake wife, you looked gorgeous and your dress was attracting attention. His body, as if having a mind of its own, moved; he put a hand on your hip, marking his territory. They could stare all they wanted, you were his for at least the upcoming days.

You didn’t shy away from his touch, quite the opposite. You leaned into his touch, feeling completely comfortable with his presence and his touch.

“Well, what’s a lovely surprise.” A man around Hyunjin’s age, or maybe a little older now that he looked at him, interrupted the two of you. He smiled widely, his eyes on you and then slowly his gaze slid to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin had to admit, the man before him was probably the only decent one in the place. Or at least, the vibe around him made Hyunjin believe that. He was terribly handsome and looked just as rich as any other person in this gallery and yet, where others looked arrogant and judgy, he looked genuinely friendly and apparently delighted to see you.

And yet, your whole body tensed at his presence. You leaned even closer to Hyunjin as if he could protect you from the man or help you to disappear. It made Hyunjin only curious. Where was the confident woman? The one ready to snap some necks and kick some asses? Odd.  

“Hello Chris.” You finally found your voice and straightened your back, a sly smile on your face.

There she is.

If Chris noticed your uneasiness, he made no comment. Instead, he grabbed your hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing your knuckles, eyes on you. “It has been a while.”

“I’m a busy woman.” You chuckled.

“Don’t I know that.”

Hyunjin knew he wasn’t supposed to feel possessive over you but he couldn’t ignore the little, angry voice inside his head, telling him to yank you from this Chris’s hold. Fake husband or not, he wanted to keep you for himself while he could.

“This is Hyunjin, my husband.” You finished.

And just like that he relaxed.  He eyed you discretely, feeling proud, even if it was fake.

Chris arched a brow at the presentation. “Oh? Since when?” He eyed Hyunjin, assessing him. Despite his intense staring, Hyunjin kept his composure and stared back with as much intensity and still wondering who the hell this man was.

“I’m offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding. Or did my invitation got lost?”

You laughed heartily at his pained expression. “Don’t be sad. It was a small wedding.”

Chris put his hand over his heart feigning pain; you only slapped his arm playfully, leaving Hyunjin’s warmth for a moment.

“Fine, fine.” Chris conceded. “Knowing you, I expected a big fancy venue with at least hundred people.”

You only glanced at Hyunjin, your eyes softening at the sight of his face. Hyunjin almost dropped his glass, completely taken off guard with how sincere, how convincing you looked. He could read love on your face when he knew there was none.  

“I had everything I needed.” You said softly.

Chris gasped. “Who are you and what did you do to my snarky, little Y/N?”

You took a sip of your champagne and looked at him. “Don’t worry, she’s still here.” You leaned closer to him, your smile turning from gentle to wicked. “Ready to bite your head off for last time.”

Chris raised his hands in defeat and took a step back for good measure. Whoever he was to you, he knew about your character and tendencies. Hyunjin watched your interaction with even more curiosity.

“I apologized at least three times already. You can’t hold a grudge for so long, can you?” Chris complained.

You eyed him with a knowing look on your face, a silent message passing between you and him. “Fine, I forgive you. For good this time.��

“Thank you, love.” He joked, “Call me. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Chris left the two of you and yet you kept your eyes on his back as he began talking with a group of people.

“Who was that?” Hyunjin finally asked.

“A friend.” You simply said without elaborating.

Hyunjin wanted to know more but from the corner of his eyes he saw the CEO moving. “He’s moving. Let’s go?”

***

The two of you followed Park Minjun and three other men as discretely as you could manage. If the CEO seemed completely oblivious of his surrounding, the two men seemed more anxious; they kept glancing behind them, almost as if they were expecting someone to follow them or maybe even feared that they would get ambushed. Hyunjin supposed, in a way, they were right to be so wary since the two of you were indeed spying on them.

The noise from the main hall of the gallery was getting scarce until Hyunjin heard nothing except for their light steps.

“I think Namjoon was right. Minjun is involved with some questionable people.” You whispered as you watched the men get inside a room, closing the door behind them and locking it for good measure. “I recognize two of men with him. The third must be his bodyguard.”

Hyunjin looked at you with raised brows, surprised once more how it seemed you knew everything and everybody. He wondered again; what kind of missions Namjoon entrusted you with. “Who are they?”

Without looking at him, you neared the door. “They belong to the crows.”

Hyunjin’s whole body froze at the name. He had heard about them. The name had popped in many cases, but they never could find anything to dismantle the gang and arrest the leaders. It was frustrating how they always seemed to be few steps ahead of them.

“What are we doing now?” Hyunjin asked.

You looked at him, a wicked smile plastered on your face. “We eavesdrop of course!” You didn’t hesitate; body pressed against the closed door you strained your ears to hear their conversation.

Hyunjin followed your lead. He stood close to you, his arm brushing yours. A good agent would keep his mind clear and concentrate on the mission. Hyunjin was not a good agent. He couldn’t help but notice how smooth your skin was. Your sweet scent. And the smile that never left your lips. Get a grip, Hyunjin!

“I expected your boss to show up.” Minjun’s rough voice could be heard from behind the door. He sounded displeased and annoyed.

“I’m his right hand and tonight I represent the crows.” The other man didn’t sound fazed with Minjun’s annoyance and yet Hyunjin could detect a hint of threat in his voice. “I’m sure it’s acceptable to you. Or maybe you should find another willing party. After all, we’re not the one in need, are we?” Now he was taunting the man.

You glanced at Hyunjin, exchanging a knowing look. Just few words but enough to prove that they didn’t come here for nothing. Few words to incriminate the man.

Minjun grumbled, displeased with the man’s attitude. “Fine. Where is it?”

Whatever the ‘it’ was, you couldn’t hear the rest of it. Steps echoed in the hall, alerting the two of you that you were no longer safe and had little time to no time at all to hide. Hyunjin’s heart leapt in his throat as he tried to find a solution, a way out. But you. You didn’t panic, you barely looked at him. Instead, you straightened your back and slid your hand under your dress and took a knife out.

“What the hell.” Hyunjin muttered to himself, eyes bulging at the sight of the knife. “We’re not fighting.”

You scoffed and stepped before him, ignoring his remark. Hyunjin wasn’t a fighter, but you were and right now you were itching to fight the intruder.

At the sound of steps growing louder, closer; his body moved on its own accord. He pushed you against the closest wall, trapping you with his body. He cupped the side of your face, his thumb rubbing a spot on your cheek.

Your sweet scent hit him like a truck. All he wanted in the first place was just to pretend, to make it look like the two of you were making out in the hall, to make the intruder feel out of place. But your fucking addicting scent drove him absolutely crazy. His eyes kept darting back and forth between your eyes, another kind of fire glowing in them, and your plump, red lips that were slightly parted in surprise. God, how much he wanted to kiss you. To smear your perfect lipstick.

Pretend. Mission. Fake.  He repeated those words in his head, trying to persuade himself that this was more than enough.

It wasn’t.

“Do it, hubby.” You encouraged him after seeing him struggle to keep his control.

And Hyunjin did. His mouth crashed against yours. The kiss was bruising, needy, he had absolutely no control over his body, over his mouth. He wanted to taste every inch of you, to memorize how good you felt against him, how nice your lips felt against his.

His grip on your face tightened as you parted your pretty lips, inviting him in. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pushing his face even closer to you.

Hyunjin’s free hand slid slowly from your chest, to your stomach, to your left, exposed, thigh. He grabbed your leg with strength and wrap it around him, giving him more access to your body, to feel more of you. To let you feel just how affected he was. How hard he was with just one kiss. You moaned into the kiss as his fingers dug into your skin.

So. Damn. Addicting. Hyunjin forgot all about their problem, all about the steps that grew only louder. He heard nothing. Saw nothing. There was only you and your gentle moans, urging him to ravish you right on the spot.

“Hey!” A loud, croaky voice interrupted them. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re not allowed in there!”

Hyunjin’s deep growl made your grip on him only tighten. You didn’t care about the intruder, but you cared about those stupidly addictive lips.

“What the-“ The man halted not far from you.

Hyunjin, unwillingly, slowly dropped your leg and parted from you. He wiped the corner of his lips and winked playfully at you before facing the man. “Sorry. I wanted a moment with my wife. She’s just so beautiful, I can’t have enough. Can you blame me?”

The man contemplated the idea of telling Hyunjin once more that you weren’t supposed to be there but one look at you and your disheveled self and swollen lips – he hesitated.

He ruffled his hair in frustration. “Just leave.”

***

“What do you think is his business with the crows?” Hyunjin asked as you stepped inside your room.

“No clue. They’re dangerous and powerful. It can’t be good.” You commented.

Barely inside and you were already undressing, with still no consideration for Hyunjin. He froze right on the spot as he watched you unzip your dress and let it pool at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your high heels and panties. He gulped, unable to avert his eyes even if a little voice was screaming at him not to look. He couldn’t. Not when you looked absolutely breath taking with your smooth skin, legs to die for and your long hair falling over your exposed breasts.

Another time, Hyunjin would have managed to keep his head cool and look away. Now? Now he knew how your lips tasted and how your skin felt under his touch. He couldn’t think straight.

“You can’t keep doing that.” Hyunjin managed to complain, his trousers grew tighter.

“Doing what?” You batted your eyelashes, trying to look innocent but your proud smile betrayed your intentions.

“That!” He pointed at your body. “I’m a man and I’m trying to be respectful.”

“I see that. You’re staring. Respectfully.” You laughed and slowly approached him, your smile turning into a smirk, knowing you were playing with fire and testing his patience.

Hyunjin should have known from the beginning that you were a menace. Jisung was right, you would eat him alive and he would say thank you.

“Must be hard watching and not being able to touch.” You cooed at him and poked his chest.

“You’re a terrible human being.” He complained without meaning his words.

“Am I?”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Bad idea. Your sweet scent hit his nose, making him slowly lose his self-control. He couldn’t think about anything else, only you and your body too close to his. All he needed to do was take the last step towards you, grab your neck and kiss you.

Think about the mission, Hyunjin. You can’t do that. But did he listen to the little voice? Hell no.

“Play with me, hubby.” You whispered, pushing his last limit.

Hyunjin snapped.

Or more like his self-control snapped. He grabbed the back of your neck and claimed your mouth. He devoured your mouth, showing you no mercy. He bit on your lips and pulled your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss.

“You’re driving me nuts.” He groaned against your lips. “And I do not appreciate that.” He gave your hair a harsher tug, exposing the tender flesh of your neck. A perfect canvas for him. His lips slid from your mouth to your jaw, to your neck, leaving pretty marks on his way, claiming you just the way he wanted.

“I’m glad.” You moaned as your hands found their way to his head, pushing him closer to you, wanting to feel more of him. “It won’t be fun otherwise.”

Hyunjin bit on your collarbone in response. He wanted to make you pay for testing his patience, for making him yield so easily. He wanted to hear you plead for more, to hear your scream his name and ask for more. It was his mission for the night and he refused to stop. He scooped you in his arms, taking you off guard – you yelped in surprise. He carried you to the bed and dropped you on the mattress.

The sight before him was his personal hell. Your pretty lips swollen, your hair spread around you, your nipples hard and begging for attention. A goddess waiting for someone to worship her and he was more than willing. But slowly. Despite his own needs and wish to jump on you, he took his time to memorize your body; every little scar, and you had many of them, every mole.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.” You teased, resting on your elbows as you watched him, biting your lips.

Hyunjin chuckled at your attempt at provoking him. He unbuttoned his shirt, button by button, watching as your eyes followed his every move, watching as you licked your lips at the sight of his bare skin.

“Might do it later.” He admitted. After all, he wouldn’t mind to immortalize the moment.

Hyunjin threw his shirt somewhere on the floor before his hands found their way to your ankles. Gently, he stroked your ankles that were probably tired after a long night wearing heels. Without a warning, he pulled you to the edge of the bed, closer to him, a wicked smile on his face.

Slowly and without breaking the eye-contact, he dropped to his knees. He grabbed your panties and tugged down, exposing your pretty and already wet pussy. Whenever you had planned to get him on his knees or not, you were ready for him and he had to admit he enjoyed the sight before him.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N.” Hyunjin asked. His soft lips leaving a trail of kisses across your thigh, setting your skin on fire.

“Don’t be a tease.” You ordered and nudged him with your knee but Hyunjin was having none of that.

“Come on. Tell me. Is it my tongue you want?” And to make his point he licked your skin, from your knee to your thigh, getting dangerously close to the place you really wanted him. “Or is it my fingers?” Still teasing, he barely brushed his fingers against your pussy, making you hiss in frustration.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” You threatened him, refusing to give him the power over you.

Hyunjin only laughed against your skin and bit your thigh playfully, your threat doing nothing except turning him on.

“Come on, Y/N. it’s not that hard.”

Your ego demanded that you kept your mouth shut, but your body was on fire and on edge and growing impatient. You needed him to touch you.

Your body won the war. “Please, Hyunjin. I really, really need you.” You begged as prettily as you could.

And how could he refuse when asked so nicely? Hyunjin delved in, eagerly, letting the taste of you consume him. There was no stopping, not when you sweet taste invaded all his senses and turned him into an addict.

“Fuck.” You cried out and arched your back.

Hyunjin devoured you, licking, sucking, knowing exactly what you needed. It was as if he already knew how your body worked, what made you curl your toes, what brought out your sweet cries.

One particular strong suck had you reach out for his head, tugging at his locks. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to bring him closer to your pussy or put some space – it didn’t stop him. Hyunjin’s gaze met yours, eyes shining with mischief.

He kept his mouth on you and slid two fingers inside you, stretching you. Your every little cries made him suck only harder, pump his fingers faster until you were nothing but a mess, writhing and begging to come.

And you came hard in a silent scream, body trembling.

If you thought, Hyunjin would give you a minute to recover, you were wrong. He flipped you on your stomach, his hands slid from your shoulders, to your back, to your ass. Such a nice and beautiful ass. Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from giving it a strong slap.

He hurried to unzip his pants, the urge to sink inside you getting unbearable. He nudged your pussy with his cock and you pushed back, whimpering, needing to feel him inside. Hyunjin, despite his own needs, still had some control left. Seeing you so wet, so desperate and lost to your own pleasure because of him pleased him.

“Hwang, I swear to god-“ You started but all words died on your tongue the moment Hyunjin buried himself deep inside you with one strong push. “Fuck!” You cried out.

The pain, the stretch, followed by pure bliss made you grab the sheets, holding for your dear life. You expected Hyunjin to take his sweet time, to make his thrusts slow and controlled.

You were wrong.

Maybe it was because of your pleas, maybe because of how nice and perfect your walls felt around him. Or maybe the little control left had finally snapped. He set a brutal rhythm. His grip on your hips strong, almost painful and that would leave, without a single doubt, marks. And you didn’t care.

“So. Damn. Perfect.” Hyunjin managed to say in between strong, deep thrusts.

Hyunjin leaned over you, slowing his thrusts for a moment, only to fist your hair and yank your head back. His warm breath caressed your neck. “This is payback for all the teasing, Y/N.” His voice sounded rough and ominous.

It should have been a warning and you would have given a damn any other time. But Hyunjin was good. Felt too good. Your mind was blank. You could barely remember your own name.

As Hyunjin forced you to arch against him, his fucking increased, reaching deeper, making you see stars. Mouth opened, tears in the corner of your eyes, there was no stopping. With one particularly strong push, he tipped you over the edge. Your orgasm tore through you, violent, powerful, toe-curling. For a second you couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. And Hyunjin kept going, seeking his own release.

Fingers digging into your skin, Hyunjin came with a loud groan, spilling himself inside you.

With his release came a realization. I’m fucked.

***

Hyunjin woke up with a feeling that something was off. He looked for his phone on the bedside table, only to see that it was three in the morning. He yawned and rolled on the other side, wanting to get closer to you and to your warmth. Only to find your side of the bed empty and cold. He straightened up on the bed, staring blankly at the empty spot. Slowly, he touched it, confirming that his mind hadn’t imagined it being cold. No, you had left the bed and apparently the room a long time ago.

Hyunjin didn’t know how he felt about it. Should he worry? Did you need space after what happened between the two of you? Or worse, did you regret it? Hyunjin refused to imagine the worst scenario, but he struggled. He considered, for a short moment, to get out of bed and start looking for you. What if something bad happened?

He heard the bip from the door and quickly lay down on the bed. He squinted, forcing his eyes to adapt to the darkness. 

You walked inside the room on your tiptoes, trying not to make any noise, trying not to wake Hyunjin up. Too late for that, but he did his best pretending to be asleep. Hyunjin hoped you couldn’t see how he was peeking at you or how fast his breathing got.

You paid no attention to him as you got closer to the bed. You untied your hair and ruffled them in frustration. Whatever you were doing at this hour of the night, you didn’t look too happy about it. Slowly you took off your leather jacket and threw it on the chair and then, and it made Hyunjin fight a gasp, you pulled out your gun.

Where the hell were you? What were you doing? He wished he could just ask you these questions, but he wasn’t sure you would take it well. Not yet at least.

Hyunjin tried to calm his heart, to steady his breathing; you got closer to the bed and watched his sleeping form.

“Such a pretty boy.” You hummed, face relaxing at his sight. You gently brushed some strands of hair from his face and Hyunjin fought a shiver.

***

He woke up a second time but much later. He expected to see you sleeping beside him, after all, weren’t you supposed to be tired after going out in the middle of the night? Yet, he found once more your side of the bed empty. He groaned and quickly crawled out of bed. He had questions and for that he needed to find you.

Turns out, finding you wasn’t as hard as he expected. Maybe for a moment, he had forgotten that you were also human and needed to eat. Hyunjin found you at the restaurant, dressed in a pretty white dress that gave you an almost innocent look which unsettled him. But not only that; you were talking vividly, laughing and smiling with Park Minjun.

Hyunjin paused, staring blankly at you and the man. It amazed him how easily you talked with the man, how genuinely interested you looked. If he didn’t know about the mission, he would have believed you were long lost friends. It impressed him how easily you adapted to different situations, different people, letting them see and hear what they needed, what they wanted.

When you spotted Hyunjin, your whole face lit up. Hyunjin gulped, not liking how his heart reacted, not liking how your smile cheered his soul. He couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the images of your kisses, of your touches, of your smooth skin against his, of your lovely voice. He didn’t regret his choice, but he was also aware that he was in deep shit.

Hyunjin took a deep breath and started walking toward your table, confident. A small smile crept across his face as your own widened.

“Oh, babe!” You called for him, pretending so well to be completely smitten with your husband. You welcomed him with a sweet smile and a kiss on his cheek (he swore his heart missed a beat). “Sorry, I was too hungry and you looked so sweet. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Voice sweet like honey, Hyunjin found himself at the loss of words. There was no way you left him without a word just because he looked sweet, but you were so damn convincing. He shook his head before chuckling. Two could play this game. He took a strand of your hair, curled it around his finger before bringing it to his lips. You sucked in a breath, your eyes locked on him.

“It’s fine.” Hyunjin leaned and pressed his lips against yours. As much as he wanted the moment to last, he couldn’t ignore any longer the man’s presence. “Hello, sir.”

The CEO eyed him from head to toe, nodded as if he liked what he saw. If only he knew. “You must be Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin pulled the chair and sat beside you. “The one and only.” He smiled at the man while his hand slipped to your thigh and rested there comfortably, loving the warmth of your skin under the palm of his hand.

Park Minjun smiled as he brought his cup to his mouth. “You have a fabulous wife. So passionate.”

Hyunjin looked at you, eyes softening. “I know. I’m a lucky man.”

Slowly, he rubbed circles on your thigh and you had to fight back a shiver. You could have stopped him, quite easily, but his touch was too addictive.

Minjun cleared his throat. “Y/N, it was lovely meeting you. But I believe I should leave the two of you alone. Enjoy your stay.”

The moment he was out of sight, you dropped your act. A long and tired sigh escaped your lips and you sank further into your seat. And yet, you still didn’t try to pry his hand off your thigh.

“Learnt anything?” Hyunjin asked, resting his head in the palm of his free hand.

“Nothing important. I thought charming him would serve me. Maybe not now, but later.”

Hyunjin hummed. You were right, it could be useful. “He looked charmed.”

You chuckled and poked his side playfully. “Why? Are you jealous, Hwang?”

Hyunjin could have stopped the little game, could have dropped his own act – he didn’t. He leaned closer, looking at you with a smirk. “Why should I be? I was the one making you scream my name. Not this old man.”

You gasped and feigned outrage. “My, my. Scandalous.”

“I know.”

“Now, that being said,” Your smile turned wicked. “I put a tracker on him.”

***

Jisung took his sweet time to answer the phone. It almost comforted Hyunjin to know that even with you, he acted this way. Except for the fact that you weren’t as patient as him. You groaned and threw your arms in the air, growing annoyed with every attempt at reaching for your friend.

“Hello my lovely, favorite couple ever!” Jisung’s cheerfulness brought a tiny smile to Hyunjin’s face, until he remembered that he wanted and needed to kick his ass. “How’s your honeymoon?”

“A lot of fucking. Something you can’t relate to because you’re forever bitchless.” You didn’t hesitate to humble him.

Hyunjin tried to stifle his laugh, only for you to glance at him with a frown, silently warning him.

Jisung gasped through the phone, offended. “Rude.” And for good measure, added, “Bitch.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well,” Jisung began, “I know for sure that there is no way you fucked Hyunjin.” Jisung sounded so confident and yet none of you tried to correct him.

Hyunjin glanced at you but you ignored him, staring at your phone instead and looking tired. Finally, the consequences of your late night activities were showing. You needed to rest but something told him that a comment from him would earn him an even deeper frown.

At the silence, Jisung squealed. “Right?”

“I put a tracker on Minjun. I need you to tell me what he’s doing.” You said instead, refusing to satisfy his curiosity.

Hyunjin heard Jisung tapping on his computer, guessing he was already on it.

“I’m not done with you.” He warned the two of you. “He’s coming back home.”

Only then, you finally looked at Hyunjin, nodding. “Then so do we.”

***

Namjoon was in a bad mood. Hyunjin guessed it the moment he stepped inside his office. He kept tugging at his hair and muttering under his nose. Whatever was bothering him, meant probably no good to him too.

Hyunjin had been back for only few days which left him little time to check on his other cases, make a report about Park Minjun, meet with Jisung to know about the man’s whereabouts.

And you. You simply vanished. He should have known it would happen. He should have guessed that whatever happened between the two of you during your mission would end the moment you stepped out of the plane. It still left a bitter taste.

“I read you report.” Namjoon finally said.

“Did Y/N make her own report too?” Hyunjin wondered.

Namjoon quirked a brow at him. “She did.” He sighed. “The crows are bad news. I hoped you would be able to gather more information.”

“Y/N made contact with Park Minjun.. Maybe if we meet him again, she could gather more.”

Speaking of the devil, you barged into the office as if you owned the place. Namjoon barely reacted at your rudeness, obviously too used to your behavior. You dropped on the chair beside Hyunjin, refusing to acknowledge his presence which pissed him off more than he was willing to admit to himself.

“Weapons.” You announced, “Your tip was right. Minjun does sell weapons to dangerous people and now he’s going to sell them to the crows which sucks. They’re already powerful enough.”

Hyunjin almost jumped out of his seat and grabbed you to question you. He held back. Barely. “How did you find out?”

Instead of looking at him, you checked your nails, looking disinterested if not bored. “I don’t think you want to know.”

Hyunjin took a deep breath, counting till ten to calm himself down. If there was one thing, he disliked about you it was how easily you switched from being nice to the bitchy-old-self. It made him wonder if the side you showed him was real.

“What did you do?” Namjoon asked instead, sensing the tension in the room.

You sighed and slid your gaze to him. “Let’s just say that some men are eager to talk in promise of a blowjob.”

Hyunjin winced, unable to stop himself.

Namjoon nodded, unfazed with your explanation. “We need tangible proof. I’m counting on the two of you.”

Great. Just great.

***

Despite Namjoon’s words, Hyunjin doubted you would agree to partner with him. It was one thing when it was expected of you to pretend and be seen, but looking for information was different. You obviously had your ways and Hyunjin would be a nuisance.

Before you could leave him, Hyunjin grabbed your wrist and forced you to stop and look at him. There was so many things he wished to say but one look at you and only one question remained in his brain.

“You didn’t really give him a blowjob in exchange for information, did you?” He asked, his voice rough.

You scoffed at his question and pulled away from his grasp. “Why? Jealous?”

“Y/N.”

You pushed him away from you by poking his chest angrily. “I have my ways to get the job done, Hwang. Just because we fucked, doesn’t mean I owe you shit.”

Of course, you would go back to being the cold, unpredictable and distant self. He wanted to yell at you, to shake you and remind you that you didn’t always have to work alone, that you could rely on him.

“Namjoon needs proof.” You added, “I’m going to give him that.”

“And I’m going to help you.” Hyunjin insisted.

“No fucking way.

You had been staring at your computer’s screen for the past twenty minutes as if the solution to your problems would magically pop up on the screen. Obviously, it didn’t which turned your mood even sourer.

The deal with the crows and Park Minjun bothered you. Despite knowing that the man was selling weapons, you had to find a way to get close and get a real proof. But how? You couldn’t really show at his doorstep and ask him about the details. And getting closer to the crows would be too troublesome. With a long and tired sigh, you threw your head back and closed your eyes to think. Sadly, your brain didn’t want to think about work and possible solutions. No, it chose to think about a very cute, yet annoying man.

“Fuck it.” You groaned and tried to erase his image from your mind. You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to remember the night you spent together. You didn’t want to remember how easily your body craved his touches. And you certainly didn’t want to admit how much you still wanted more.

Your doorbell rang and brought you back to reality. You glanced at the door, tempted to ignore whoever dared to disturb you at your place. Not many knew where you lived, it was better this way for your safety.

It rang a second time followed by a loud knock.

“Open the damn door, Y/N!” Jisung’s loud voice reached your ear.

“Of-fucking-course.” The temptation to ignore him was strong but you also knew that Jisung was a stubborn one; he would alert the whole neighborhood if it meant you would open the damn door.

Unwillingly, you forced yourself out of the couch to open the door. “What the fuck do you want?!”

Jisung lifted his bag and wiggled it playfully before you as if it would change your mind about his presence. “Let’s get drunk.”

Tempting, you had to admit it. You stared at the bag before sliding your gaze to him. Jisung was smiling so widely, knowingly, it annoyed you. He didn’t come here just to get drunk; he wanted information and the best way was through alcohol.

“Fine.” You stepped out of his way. “Come in.”

Jisung didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried inside before you could change your mind. He eyed the room, gasping at the mess. Folders were spread all around your table along with your clothes. Despite being back for few days now, instead of properly unpacking, you left your clothes all around the living room.

“Are you going to tell me?” Jisung asked and glanced at you over his shoulder, “Or should I make you talk?”

You eyed him, incredulous. Jisung tried to sound intimidating as if he could actually make you talk but with his boyish looks it just didn’t work. You drew nearer, a dangerous glint in your eyes. You were the predator in the room and you didn’t mind reminding him. You stopped, barely any space left between your bodies.

“And how are you going to make me talk, Ji?” You flicked his nose playfully.

Jisung gulped, not so confident anymore. You laughed and pulled back to give him space. You pulled out a bottle of bear from his bag and walked to the couch. “What exactly do you want to know?”

You plopped on the couch and relaxed.

“How’s work with Hyunjin?” He asked as he grabbed his own bottle and sat on the chair, watching you.

His question didn’t surprise you but it still annoyed you. “He’s a pain in my ass.”

Jisung wiggled his brows playfully. “I’m sure you’re the perfect partner too.”

You already regretted letting him in. You didn’t want to talk about Hyunjin with him. You didn’t want to talk about him at all in fact. But one look at Jisung and you knew he wouldn’t leave until he got his answers. God help me.

“You know I prefer working alone. It’s easier. I don’t want his life to depend on me.” You explained.

Jisung hummed, knowing how your brain worked. “But sometimes it’s nice to know someone has your back. Hyunjin is loyal and will do anything to help you.”

You knew. Your last interaction showed just how much he was willing to help even if you were a cold bitch to him. You wanted to keep him away from you, from the danger that you loved to surround yourself with. He didn’t need this drama in his life. Hyunjin was a nice guy. Even before working with him, you had heard stories about him and you had witnessed on many occasions how wiling he was to help people. Even those who didn’t deserve his help.

“You know I’ll put him in danger.” You sighed in defeat.

Jisung pointed at you with his bottle. “Pretty sure it’s not your call to make.”

***

You didn’t know how you felt about visiting Hyunjin’s office out of the blue. On one hand you knew the reasonable thing to do would be to apologize for your behavior and have a truce with him. But on the other hand, you weren’t particularly fond of the idea of working with him again. You feared that more time you spent with him and more likely you would put him in danger. And maybe grow fond of him too. It was dangerous for your plans and so out of your character. You didn’t have time for men or the patience. You could deal with one night stands; you had your needs to fulfill after all. But more? No. Not your thing. 

But Hyunjin was testing your boundaries, your willpower without even knowing it, therefore it made him dangerous. 

You stared at his half-opened door, hesitating. All you had to do was to walk in, offer him a coffee and apologize. And then ask for his help. Not so hard, was it? It was. You took a deep breath, composed your face and walked inside his office confidently. 

“Hello, Hwang.” You hummed, sounding as friendly as you could manage.

If you had thought it would go easy, you were terribly wrong. Hyunjin barely acknowledged your presence, the only sign that told you he had perfectly heard you, was the way his body tensed at the sound of your voice and how he stopped taping on his computer. Yeah, easy peasy. 

His reaction didn’t deter you. You got to his desk and put the cup of coffee you got him beside his computer, pretending that everything was alright.  

And yet still no reaction. 

You observed him in silence for a moment, taking your time to memorize every part of his face. You smiled when he crunched his nose, his resolution to ignore you slowly crumbling. The corner of your lips quirked up. You sat on the edge of his desk and gently grabbed his chin, tilting his head. “I didn’t give him a blowjob. But I beat the shit out of him when I got the information.” 

Here was the truth of what really happened. Of course, you were ready to do a lot to succeed but you still had your own limits. And you had other effective means to make someone talk. You let go of his chin and tried not to smile at his reaction. 

Hyunjin tried to keep his face straight, to hide his emotions but you saw a glimpse of surprise on his face anyway. You noticed how his body relaxed instantly at your confession. Slowly, he outstretched his arm and grabbed your peace offering. You watched him, eyes never leaving him as he brought the cup of coffee to his damn tempting lips and took a sip. If from outside you were smiling at the little win, inside you were slapping yourself for admiring him a little too much. 

“Thank you for the coffee.” Hyunjin held the cup with one hand and leaned back against his chair. “Why are you here, Y/N?”

‘Because I was an ass to you and I’m sorry. And I need your help.’ You wanted to say. Instead, you eyed him, captivated with his lips and some creams in the corner of his lips. 

“According to Namjoon and also you, we are partners. Can’t I visit my partner?” You tried to play coy, when really, all you had to do was be sincere with him. But it went against your nature and your damn ego. 

Hyunjin wasn’t impressed, judging by the way he quirked a brow and didn’t comment. 

Yeah. It wasn’t so easy after all. You were too hopeful. Who would have guessed that the sweet and gentle Hyunjin could actually hold a (totally justified) grudge. You underestimated him and that was your mistake. 

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. I need your help.” 

Hyunjin whistled, impressed with how long it took you to admit the reason behind your visit. “And here I thought you didn’t need a partner.” 

You chewed on your lips, so tempted to make a snarky comment but you couldn’t. You did need his help. “You won’t make it easy, will you?” 

Hyunjin shrugged as if it was nothing and took another sip, waiting for your explanation, not agreeing right away. You had to admit that you were impressed how easily he managed to keep a straight face, not giving in right away. You knew better than to underestimate an opponent but somehow you did. 

“Fine.” You raised your hands in defeat. “Do you remember Chris? There’s a party and I know Minjun will also attend it. The two of them know that I’m married, it would be weird if I show up without my handsome husband.” 

You waited for him to show any sign, but Hyunjin only stared at you, making you feel uneasy for the first time. He wouldn’t refuse, would he? Not that you couldn’t make it work without him. You were pretty sure you could convince anyone. But deep inside, you wanted him to be by your side. Even if it was a very dangerous game. But then, he stood up and took a step towards you. He put his hands on the desk, on every side of you, trapping you between the desk and him. 

“And how badly do you need my presence, wifey?” He asked, face a little too close to your liking. You could see every little mark, his pretty mole and those damn lips. You could barely remember his question, your attention on his lips only. Someone talked about a mission? A plan? Who cared when you could just tilt your face and claim those lips for yourself.

Seeing how unresponsive you were and with your eyes locked on his lips, Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from leaning even closer. His lips brushed the shell of your ear; your body reacted on its own, shivering in both excitement and need. “Are you even listening, wifey?”

“I am.” A big fat liar, yes.

He clicked his tongue at your blatant lie and pulled completely away, freeing your body and also your damn brain from his spell. You blinked in confusion and had to fight back the urge to pull him back.

“I’ll help you.”

***

It had been ages since the last time you attended one of Chris’s parties. You avoided those kind of parties if you could. You hated the people that attended it, always the same one: arrogant, rich, who still managed to complain about every little thing when they had everything they needed. You loathed them and hated their conversation. But at least with Chris it was different. Maybe it was because of him and how genuine he was about what he did or maybe he just always managed to ground you.

Tonight was no exception. The venue was huge, classy and smelled of money. Fortunately for you, this time around you didn’t need Chris’s presence to help you to go through the night. You had someone better and definitely more distracting than your friend.

Hyunjin looked insanely good in his red suit and with his hair pushed back. A model. If he ever got tired of his current job, you had no doubt that he could revert to modeling and he would succeed. Apparently, you weren’t the only one who noticed how good he looked tonight; many women had their eyes on him. Too bad, he wasn’t there for them. To mark your claim, you looped your arms with his and gave him a sweet smile. Take that bitches, he’s mine. Very adult of you.

“I know what you’re doing.” Hyunjin whispered and brushed his lips against your forehead.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feigned innocence and took a sip of your drink, nevertheless a smug smile spread on your lips.

Hyunjin chuckled and shook his head, fond with your attempt at hiding your intentions. “I don’t care about those women. But do you know what bothers me?” His fingers slid slowly from your shoulder to your arm to your hand – you shivered in response and looked at him expectantly. “Those men eye-fucking you.”

Oh dear, where was the sweet Hyunjin? He looked anything but gentle right now. In fact, the murder in his eyes reminded you a lot of you. Maybe, he wasn’t that different from you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, making sure not to spill your drink over him, you pressed your body against him. “Maybe fuck me in the middle of the room and they’ll get the hint.”

Despite the display of affection that clearly attracted more attention on the two of you, Hyunjin played the game perfectly. He put his hands on your hips, his grip strong and delicious. “Is it a challenge?”

This time, you were the one to shake your head, amused with the outcome. Here you thought, you could make him blush and change the subject. But no, Hyunjin still managed to surprise you. “When did you get so bold, Hwang?”

“I believe you’re rubbing on me.”

“Namjoon is going to have a heart attack if you start behaving like me.”

Hyunjin could actually imagine Namjoon’s reaction and shivered. “I’m sure it would please you.”

You didn’t comment but your silence spoke louder. So did your smirk.

Reluctantly, Hyunjin let go of you. “He’s here.” Hyunjin commented as he finally spotted Minjun. And as much as you wanted to enjoy your time with your fake husband, you had a job to do. “He’s with his wife.” 

You groaned at the mention of the wife. “I can deal with him but her-“ While investigating about Minjun you found plenty of interesting and disturbing information on his wife. From outside she looked like the typical rich wife. Inside? She was an ugly, manipulative bitch. She had no problem with using her power to bully the weak, to use her influence to get what she wanted. Whoever she wanted. The kind of person you just wished you could shoot and never look at again. Sadly, if you wanted to find out more about the CEO you also needed to face her. 

“I can’t promise I won’t snap.” You finished. 

“Well, my lovely wife,” Hyunjin took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m more than willing to hold you back.” 

Park Minjun spotted the two of you before you could even reach them. His whole face lit up like a Christmas tree, genuinely delighted seeing you again. Maybe not Hyunjin, but you for sure. 

“What a lovely surprise!” He took you completely off guard by reaching for you and giving you a hug. You didn’t peg him for a hugger, but apparently he was. “Such a delight! You look lovely, Y/N.” And then he shook Hyunjin’s hand, surprisingly with enthusiasm. 

“Thank you M. Park.” You gave him your prettiest smile, trying to look as genuine as possible which with Hyunjin’s presence influencing you, wasn’t that hard. At least, until your gaze found the old hag’s face. The urge to slap her was strong; she was ogling Hyunjin as if he was a piece of meat and not a human being. 

“Darling, this is Y/N and Hyunjin.” He introduced you. 

Lazily her gaze slid to you, looking at you as if you were nothing but dirt under her feet. Such a lovely piece of shit, you thought. 

“He’s way too pretty to be your husband.” She commented with a huff of disdain. 

You are going to die. Slowly and painfully.

“He’s way too pretty to be tied to a woman like her.” She completely disregarded you, her attention fully back on Hyunjin.

“Come on darling.” Minjun tried, sensing that her comment brought a tension that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Don’t be rude. Y/N is a lovely and charming woman.” 

“For a whore maybe.” 

Mission, mission, mission. You repeated the word in your head, trying to calm the fire spreading through your veins. Trying to keep your temper in check and not give in to your urge to slice her open with your knife and see if she bled the same color as you. 

Fuck the mission. Discretely, you pushed back the sleeve of your left arm, ready to grab your knife. Before you could get it, Chris appeared right beside you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles as a greeting, his smile charming but his eyes were burning with fire and a threat. A fire that would usually appease you and remind you your place. Not tonight. You were too gone.

“And she is family to me.” Chris announced as he let go of your hand and turned to face the couple. Despite now the polite smile on his face, the threat was obvious. “Please refrain from insulting her or I’ll take it personally.” 

Minjun’s face paled at the threat. It would have amused you to see him squirm if it wasn’t for your wish to fight. He cleared his throat and hurried to take his wife’s hand. “We’re going to grab another drink, let’s talk later.” 

The moment they left, Hyunjin let out a long sigh and looked at you with a knowing look. Someone wanted to scold you but you didn’t give two shits.

“Piece of shit.” The two of you said at the same time.

Hyunjin surprised you with his words and reaction, but oddly, it soothed your nerves and the fire burning inside your veins. Yeah, he was right, you were rubbing on him. 

Chris palmed his face. He barely avoided a massacre right in the middle of the party; just thinking about what could have happened tired him. 

“As much as I hate the woman, you can’t hurt her.” Chris’s hard gaze fell on you and you would have winced at it if not for Hyunjin’s comforting presence. 

“She’s a bitch!” You protested.

“And you have dozens of witnesses.” He gestured at the people surrounding you. “Don’t get sloppy.”

Fine. Chris was right, but you still felt the need to get rid the world of another ugly human-being. Hyunjin sensed that; he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him. 

“It’s not like she was going to kill her.” Hyunjin told him, confident. 

Oh Hyunjin, if only you knew.

You wished he hadn’t said that. Not only because he was wrong, but also because it would alert Chris. 

“Sure about that? Y/N was ready to pull out her knife and end her right on the spot.” He looked at your covered arm, knowing a small knife was hiding under it. “She craves violence but I’m sure,” his gaze slid to Hyunjin, “you already knew that.” 

Your palms were sweaty. Chris made you squirm under his mocking gaze. He knew this whole couple thing was fake, he felt it from the first time he had seen Hyunjin and Hyunjin’s faith in you only proved it. 

“Have fun.” Chris said with one good look at the two of you. “But don’t cause trouble.” 

So tempting to tell him to fuck off but you resisted only for the sake of pretense. 

“You weren’t really planning to hurt her?” Hyunjin asked.

“She insulted you. This old damn hag-“

“Simp.”

“Take that back, Hwang!” 

****

It was only much later that you managed to have a second chance with Minjun, without his wife scowling at you. You didn’t even have much to do to attract his attention; the moment you found yourself alone with your drink, he didn’t hesitate to approach you. Obviously, Hyunjin’s presence never bothered him, but Chris? He clearly didn’t want to attract his attention a second time.

“I’m so sorry for my wife’s behavior.” He apologized, standing close to you.

You smiled sweetly at him, batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s fine. No harm done.” But what you really wanted to say was that his wife would not live another day if she ever made another comment about Hyunjin or even dared to look his way.

He smiled, grateful for your gentleness.

Another man, in black suit, joined the two of you. He nodded his head at Minjun and stood closely to the two of you. You remembered him. The same man that went with Minjun to meet the crows. You listened to the man, looking invested in whatever he was saying while your mind was going through different ways you could get information out of him. Instead, you spotted something else on the bodyguard as he moved: a gun.

“Nice gun.” You commented, taking the two men off guard. Of course, they judged you for your looks and underestimated you. As if a woman who looked like a doll could know anything about guns. You stared at the gun for a moment before averting your eyes. “I don’t recognize the model.”

Minjun whistled, impressed. “You are full of surprises, Y/N.”

That you were. You smiled into your drink, trying not to look too smug. “My uncle is an avid collector.” You glanced once more at the gun. “He taught me how to shoot.”

Minjun made a sign with his hand and the bodyguard took few steps towards you before pulling his gun and handing it to you. You glanced at the man, making sure he didn’t mind you touching it; he nodded his head and smiled.

“Oh. I expected it to be heavier.” You commented as you admired the gun. You moved it around, weighing it.

“It’s a new design. I wanted to make life easier for my men.” Minjun admitted, proudly.

You handed the gun back to the bodyguard, your gaze on the older man. “Guess you’re full of surprises too, M. Park.”

“It’s a hobby of mine.” He confessed.

“That reminds me of my uncle.”

“I bet I’d get along with your uncle.”

He wouldn’t.

***

Of course the crows would want the best guns on the market and if Park Minjun was the one making them, it was no surprise they agreed to work with him. But still, you needed more to be able to stop them. Maybe talking with Hyunjin would clear your mind and help you to find a solution to your problem. But before you could do any of that, Chris grabbed your arm and pulled you to the balcony where nobody could hear you.

Chris did not look amused when he met your eyes. In fact, you were pretty sure he was upset and was trying really bad to keep his own temper in check.

“What’s wrong Chris?”

“The fuck you’re doing, Y/N?” He scowled.

It wouldn’t be very wise of you to play pretend with him; Chris could read people easily, even you which annoyed you half of the time. Tonight was no exception. He could tell you were up to something and probably something bad. He wasn’t wrong.

“Nothing.” You raised your arms in defense. “Yet.”

Chris took a deep breath to calm himself. “What’s your business with Park Minjun?”

Nothing went unnoticed, how sad. Unfortunately, you couldn’t share your mission with him, no matter how close the two of you were. “None. We met not long ago while I was enjoying a nice weekend with Hyunjin.”

Chris scoffed at the mention of your fake husband. “Who clearly knows shit about you.”

In a blink of an eye you stood before him, your knife no longer hidden under your sleeve and pressed against his throat. “And you better keep it that way.”

Chris didn’t even blink, he stared at you, unimpressed. Wouldn’t be the first time you threatened him. Nor the last. “You and your love for knives is terrifying.”

“Don’t see why.” You shrugged and pulled away. It would do you no good to fight him and you weren’t that confident either. Behind his calmness, Chris was a sleeping storm; a storm you would rather avoid.

“Did you know Minjun sells weapons?” You asked instead.

Chris raised his brow at the change of subject. “Yes. He’s been a little paranoid recently. Some people want him dead, I heard. Beomseok offered him a deal: he will protect him but in exchange he will decide to who he sells the weapons.”

What a shitty deal, you thought. From outside, it looked nice; Minjun kept his business and his life, but really, he lost everything. “Basically, the crows are taking control over his business in exchange for his life.”

“Yes, nothing good will come out of this deal.” Chris admitted as he kept his eyes on you. You could tell there was more he wanted to say but chose to hold back.

“What?”

“You’re asking questions but you already know the answers.” He noted, expecting you to spill all your secrets.

Your only reaction came in the form of a lazy, knowing smile.

***

Hyunjin was going to be pissed. Rightfully so. And you would probably need to find another peace offering quite soon. You knew leaving him behind wasn’t the nicest thing to do, especially not since you were the one who requested his presence at the party. But you couldn’t involve him in your plans. Not only he wouldn’t approve of your ideas but you bet he would try to stop you. Therefore, you left the party without looking back.

Just in case, you had left your car in the parking lot with clothes and weapons. You hurried to change, ditching your dress for a more comfortable outfit: black pants, grey t-shirt, a jacket and a cap to hide your identity if needed. You hid your favorite gun under your t-shirt, reveling in the feeling of it against your skin. You hid another knife in your boots, tucking it safely.

Once ready, you slumped in your seat, you waited and watched people coming in and out of the venue. Your plan wasn’t the best one and you weren’t fully sure it would lead you anywhere but you were tired of waiting and trying to find other ways to get proofs.

You didn’t need to wait long for Minjun to leave the party along with his wife and the bodyguard. Perfect. You waited for the car to start, gave them a moment to leave the parking lot and then you followed.

Obviously, you couldn’t invite yourself at his house and search the place, too dangerous. But the bodyguard? He was there the night the deal happened which meant he had valuable information and stalking him would be a piece of cake. And it was exactly what you did.

The bodyguard dropped the Parks at their house, stayed barely five minutes inside before leaving again. You hoped he would drive to his place – it would be easier to slip inside and get to him. But no, you supposed like many men he needed to unwind after a long day of work and the best place for many happened to be a bar.

You followed him inside and observed him from a corner, watching as he talked to some other men. You weren’t a very patient person, half of the time, but when it came to work and your preys, you didn’t mind waiting as long as it helped you to get what you needed.

And you were rewarded. He left through the backdoor to smoke. And it was your chance. The place was perfect; barely any light and nobody outside. And no security cameras. He shouldn’t have used the backdoor.

Satisfied, you moved closer to him without making any noise and pointed your gun at his head. “Let’s play a game.”

He froze at the sound of your voice and the feel of the gun pressed against his head. He was sloppy and it was his mistake. He should have known that working for Park Minjun would bring him trouble; he should have watched his back. Too bad for him, but good for you.

You got around to face him. The moment his eyes fell on you; you knew he recognized you. His arm twitched, wanting probably to reach for his own gun but you shook your gun and pressed it a little harder against his head.

“Now come on, play nice.”

“What the fuck do you want?” He spat angrily, fuming that a woman managed to ambush him so easily. You bet, he was even angrier with himself for underestimating you, for being deceived with your sweet looks.

“Told you, let’s play a game. I ask you questions and if you play nice you stay alive. Easy right?” You would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the little game. You enjoyed making the strong men squirm.

He scoffed. “You won’t kill me.” And here he was underestimating you again.

You sighed, disappointed. Fine, if he wanted to play the tough guy. With a blink of an eye, you grabbed his arm and kicked his right knee making him fall on his knees. “Ah, men on their knees, always such a nice sight.” You smiled sweetly at him. “Now. I heard that your boss is working with the crows. Where can I find the contract?”

He looked at you. Really looked at you. You were a different person and he had finally realized it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You hovered over him and shook your head. “I really want to play nice but you’re making things unnecessary complicated.”

He spat at your feet in response.

“Rude. Sure you don’t want to answer?” You tried to give him another chance. “No?”

Because he was so concentrated on your gun, he didn’t notice you pulling out your knife, you stuck it right into his left thigh. He screamed and grabbed his thigh, cursing loudly.

“Now, let’s try again. Where can I find the contract?” You asked again, your voice much colder.

“I don’t know!” He wailed.

You applauded his attempt at lying to your face. He should have understood by now that you were ready to get your hands dirty to get your answers, but he still tried to resist.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket which made you pause. You took it out of your pocket to see Hyunjin’s name on the screen. As tempting as it was to ignore his call, you couldn’t, not after leaving him without a word at the party.

You sighed and looked down at the man. “Be a good boy and keep your mouth shut.” And then you answered your phone. “Hi darling!”

“Where the fuck are you, Y/N?” Hyunjin almost growled on the phone.

Yeah, he was pissed. “Somewhere. Busy.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m sorry. I should have texted you but I got carried away.” Which wasn’t far from the truth. The moment the plan formed in your head, you couldn’t really think about anything else. “And I didn’t warn you because I knew you wouldn’t agree.”

The man at your feet opened his mouth, wanting probably to scream and hope to get some help. You were faster; you put the gun into his mouth. He whimpered, eyes wide.

“Y/N.” Hyunjin’s voice sounded darker.

“I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

There was a silence on the other end and then he exhaled loudly. “And is the other person with you fine?”

Busted. You glared angrily at the man. “For at least another ten minutes, yes.”

You imagined Hyunjin ruffling his hair in frustration, torn between the wish to tell you to stop and something else.

“Be careful.” Was what he chose to say.

“Aw darling, you almost sound like you really care for me.” You grinned, delighted with his words.

Hyunjin hung up first. Satisfied, you turned your attention back on the bleeding man. “So? How about you end your misery? I was there when he signed the contract.”

“You’re not going to spare my life.” He managed to say. It wasn’t a question; he had realized by now that you weren’t a nice person.

“No. But if you play along I’ll make it painless.” You admitted.

He considered it for a moment. There was only the two of you, the gun still pointed at him and his thigh was bleeding. He could try to overpower you but the way you looked at him made him pause. There was no trace of the gentle woman he had seen before. No, your smile was cruel and eyes cold. The eyes of a killer.

He was fucked.

“They kept the contract. Boss was furious that they didn’t even get him a copy.”

You crouched down to his level, watching him closely. You needed to know if he wasn’t trying to lie to you. He wasn’t. He looked tired and paler. “They never play nice.”

He nodded, agreeing. “There’s something else. When he signed the contract, they showed him the list of clients he could sell to.”

“Let me guess,” You hummed, “Bunch of assholes he didn’t want to sell to?”

“Yes. They kept it too.”

“I see.” You straightened up and pointed your gun at his head once more. “Thank you for your help.” And shot.

***

You came straight home after dealing with the bodyguard, desperately needing a good shower to get rid of some blood on your hands and get rid of your bloodied t-shirt. But more importantly, you needed to plan now that you knew who had the contract. All your plans for the rest of the night vanished the moment you spotted Hyunjin, sitting on the floor against your door.

What the hell. You were going to kill Han Jisung for not minding his god-damn-business. There was no way Hyunjin found your address without his help. You didn’t want him to know where you lived. You didn’t want him to get even closer to you; it was too risky for both you and him.

You stared at him, forgetting how to breath. You didn’t expect to see him so soon and definitely not after you had killed someone. You didn’t want him to witness you in this state but there was no way you could hide now. So you stared, thinking about what you could do, what you would say. What you could say.

Hyunjin looked tired and worried. His hair a mess, you bet he kept ruffling his hair in frustration, wondering what exactly you were doing. Or maybe he was messing his hair because he knew exactly what you were up to and it scared him. But even like this, he looked insanely good. You’re insane, Y/N.

You exhaled and chuckled. “I’m surprise my neighbor didn’t call the cops.”

Easily, Hyunjin got back on his feet and waited for you to join him. “Oh don’t worry. The old lady did threaten to call them. But I charmed her.”

Of course, he did. Nobody could possibly resist him. And yet, you wondered how he managed this miracle. You knew Mrs. Kim; she was an old, cold lady, who loved her peace and didn’t appreciate strangers. In fact, she didn’t like many people, you included. Not that you minded.

“And how exactly did you charm her?”

“I told her that we fought and I was willing to stay at your door the whole night if it means you will forgive me. Turns out she’s a romantic. She wished me good luck.” Hyunjin admitted, a faint blush on his face.

You would have never guessed. But then again, you avoided the old woman as much as you could.

Hyunjin’s eyes roamed your face and then your body, silently checking for any injuries. You winced because he couldn’t miss the blood on your clothes. He closed the distance between the two of you and cupped your face, worry written all over his face. “Are you hurt?”

You should be annoyed. Annoyed that Jisung told him where you lived. Annoyed that he came here. Annoyed that he cared so much for you when you were half of the time a bitch to him. Annoyed how your heartbeat quickened at his touch. Annoyed how your insides melted. But you didn’t feel annoyance. No, you felt the butterflies in your stomach and the need to wrap yourself around him and let his warmth consume you.

“I’m fine.” You assured him, your throat suddenly dry.

Despite your answer, Hyunjin didn’t look fully convinced. You held your breath as his hands slowly slid from your face to your neck and then to your unzipped jacket. His frown only deepened at the sight of blood. Sensing what he was about to do, you grabbed his hands and forced him to stop, remembering too late that your hands weren’t very clean either. “It’s not my blood.”

“Are you sure?”

It appeased your heart to know that he wasn’t worried about what you did, only about you. A small smile crept across your face. “Yes. I was too fast for him.”

Hyunjin took you off guard; he pressed his forehead against yours, exhaling in relief. “Good.”

The reasonable thing to do would be to tell him to go home. The reasonable thing would be to put some distance between the two of you, but your body refused to move and your words got stuck in your throat. The little voice inside your head screamed at you to escape his warmth – you didn’t even try. No, you closed your eyes and reveled in the moment. It felt too nice. Too good. Girl, you’re fucked.

“Want to come in?”

***

You didn’t want to get used to the feeling of waking up beside a still sleeping Hyunjin. It went against your rules and compromised everything you worked for. And yet, as you watched him sleeping, a few strands of hair hiding his eyes, you barely cared. You hadn’t felt this calm, this peaceful in years. It disturbed you but it was also nice.

You reached out to touch his face, but Hyunjin grabbed your wrist and instead pulled you right in his arms, his grip strong around you. You squealed, surprised. And here you thought he was still sleeping. He tricked you.  

“Were you pretending, Hwang?” You tried to sound annoyed to hide your own embarrassment.

Hyunjin held you a little tighter as he planted a kiss to the crown of your head. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

You huffed against his chest and pressed yourself a little more against him, wrapping a leg over him. Yeah, it was a nice change. 

Hyunjin chuckled at your unusual behavior. “And here I thought you didn’t mind sharing a bed with me as long as I wasn’t a hugger.” He threw back your own words at you. 

And he was damn right. You never liked huggers and yet you couldn’t deny that you were enjoying it with Hyunjin. To save your face, you tried to extract yourself from the safety of his arms. You barely made it before he pulled you back with even more strength and wrapped his limbs around you. 

“No, no. Don’t even try. You’re stuck with me.” He warned you. 

“Let me go, Hwang.” You tried again. But he didn’t let go. “Hyunjin.” 

He hummed against you and brushed his lips against your skin, shutting you up pretty quickly. “Try calling me Hyunjin again and you won’t leave this bed at all.” 

You were glad your face was hidden from his eyes, preventing him from seeing the light blush that formed on your face. He was a menace and was getting better at it with every moment he spent with you. You were in trouble. 

***

By some kind of miracle, the two of you managed to get ready and leave on time. Hyunjin thought the two of you would get to the office together, but sadly for him you had other plans in mind and you couldn’t let him come with you. 

“Wait, you’re not coming with me?” Hyunjin realized when you were finally ready to part from him. 

“Yeah. I have few things to do.” You admitted, feeling a little nervous under his knowing gaze. Of course, he knew you were up to something again. 

Hyunjin stayed close to you, watching you, thinking about what he should do. The reasonable thing to do, and especially because he was your partner, would to push you to tell him your plan. But Hyunjin knew better. He could try to force you but he wanted you to willingly include him in your plans, to show him that you trusted him. 

“Does it involve you ending up with blood on your clothes?” He asked instead. 

“No.” You said. 

“And you won’t get hurt either right?” 

Did your heart miss a beat at his genuine concern for your wellbeing? Absolutely. You cleared your throat and avoided his eyes; you didn’t need him to see the different emotions in your eyes. 

“No. I’ll be fine.” 

Hyunjin gently grabbed your face and brushed his lips against yours. “No more killing, Y/N.” He insisted.

You opened your mouth to protest but he hurried to add. “For the week.” 

You shook your head, chuckling to yourself. “Careful, Hwang. You’re becoming like me.” 

***

You arrived at the restaurant shortly after. Despite your intentions, you hesitated at the entrance. You easily spotted the person you were looking for through the window; your cousin looked just the same. Still cheerful, still loud and just like every time you saw him, he was surrounded by his friends. You felt a pang in your heart. You used to love spending time with him, he was the only family that still mattered to you, the only you cared about. You didn’t want to involve him in your plan, but he was the safest choice.

You took a deep breath and pushed the door. You walked in as if you owned the place. A small smile towards the waiter and then, you walked straight to your cousin’s table. He was too busy telling a story, he didn’t notice you until it was too late. The moment his eyes locked with yours, a huge grin spread on your lips.

“Hi, sweet boy.” You plopped on the empty chair beside him. “Hello boys.”

A hush fell over the table; all they did was stare at you.

“Well look at that. Isn’t it your sweet little cousin?” One of his friend beamed in delight and mischief. Beomgyu was still this mischievous kid that followed your cousin. You could scowl at him all you wanted, he never cared which you couldn’t help but appreciate.

“It has been a while kiddo.” You leaned closer to him and nudged his arm playfully. “Still a troublemaker?”

“Look who’s talking.” He teased back. “Hey, Yeonjun, when was the last time you saw your cousin?”

You rolled your eyes in response. It wasn’t even that long. Maybe two or three months ago. At best.

“Six months ago.” Yeonjun answered, tapping his fingers on the table, unamused.

Oops. So maybe you got carried away with your work and forgot to visit him. You didn’t look so smug anymore. “It can’t be that long!” But it probably was. “I’m sorry.” You raised your hands in defense. “I’m a bad cousin but you already knew that.” 

You weren’t really bad cousin. You knew that. And so did Yeonjun. When he needed you the most, you were there. When he finally found the courage to put his past behind him, you were delighted to help him to have a fresh start.

Yeonjun sighed and just when you thought he would make it harder than it had to be, he threw a fry right at you, an devilish grin on his face. 

You gasped loudly. “Asshole!” 

“Love you too, pumpkin.” He blew you a kiss. 

“Ugh not this nickname.” You groaned but even if you didn’t like it, your inside warmed at his words. You shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. 

“Are we about to start a food fight?” Beomgyu asked, already grabbing a tomato, ready to aim. 

“No!” You both answered. Yeonjun probably because he didn’t want to be banned from this restaurant and you because you didn’t want to dirty your clothes. 

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Yeonjun leaned a little closer. 

“What do you mean?” You feigned innocence. “I miss my cousin.” 

Yeonjun rolled his eyes at your bad acting. “As if.” 

You did miss him, but he was right, you weren’t here because of that. “Fine. I need your help.”

He cocked a brow, a little intrigued. Usually, it was the other way around and it made him curious. “I’m listening.”

“I need you to steal a very important contract from your old daddy.” 

He wasn’t supposed to follow you. He should have headed straight to work and forget about the different plans that were probably forming in your head. But could someone blame him for worrying? He knew how reckless you were and no matter how good you were at your work, one day it could fireback. So instead of doing his own job, he followed you as discretely as possible, knowing that if you ever caught him, you would be pissed. 

Out of all the places he expected you to go, a restaurant wasn’t one of them. He waited and watched from across the street. You looked comfortable with the group of men, smiling and laughing. A sight he still wasn’t used to see but couldn’t deny worked against him. Your smile warmed him and his heart beat a little faster, imagining it was for him. It dawned on him that your smile meant a lot to him and if he could, he would keep it only for himself. If he could, he would keep you for himself.

Seeing you safe and sound should have been enough for him to leave and go back to his business. But did he? No. He stood rooted to the spot, staring at you.

Hyunjin was not a jealous person. Or insecure. At least, he thought he wasn’t. But apparently, when it came to you, everything changed. The moment he saw one of the men lean into you and wrap his arms around you, Hyunjin couldn’t ignore the green monster inside him. He wanted to talk to the two of you and yank you away from the man. He wanted to ask you the difficult questions. But he did none of that. Because there was one thing he didn’t want: fight with you. 

Or maybe he was just a coward. 

***

Hyunjin came back to his office feeling suddenly tired but also needing a distraction. He thought working on his other case would distract him from thoughts of you, from the image of another man holding you. It was a useless attempt when you lived rent free in his head. 

“Fuck.” He cursed and gripped his pen so tightly he broke it in two. 

“Someone is in a mood.” Jisung’s cheerful voice interrupted his trail of thoughts.

Hyunjin blinked in confusion, his eyes on his broken pen. He was a mess and he bet it was written all over his face. He tried to compose himself as Jisung approached, but failed.

“Dude, you look miserable.” Jisung commented and plopped on a chair, making himself comfortable.

For once, Hyunjin didn’t feel like talking to his friend, knowing damn well he would seek information out of him, knowing he would read right through him.  “What are you doing here, Ji?”

“I was bored.” Jisung shrugged as if it was nothing which earnt him a scowl from Hyunjin, ready to fight him. Jisung raised his hands in defense. “Fine. Stop looking at me like that. You’re becoming like her.”

But his scowl only deepened at the mention of you.

Jisung sighed in defeat. “Fine. I saw you earlier, you looked pissed as hell. I tried calling for you a few times – you either didn’t hear me or ignored me on purpose.”

“And you don’t like being ignored.” Hyunjin commented.

“That,” Jisung agreed with a nod, “And I was worried too.”

Hyunjin considered not telling him what was bothering him but he quickly figured that if he couldn’t openly tell you that he was jealous, he could at least share it with Jisung. Hyunjin ruffled his hair in frustration and groaned. “I followed her this morning and saw her with a bunch of men.”

Jisung leaned closer, his attention fully on him, a tiny smirk on his face that irked Hyunjin. “Nothing unusual for the moment.”

“She looked really close with one of them. I-“

“Damn man, you’re so whipped.” Jisung couldn’t hold back.

“Am not.” Hyunjin protested in vain. He stared at Jisung for a moment, sensing that he had lied not only to his friend but also to himself. Hyunjin buried his face in his hands to stifle another groan. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Jisung chuckled at his misery. “Well, a piece of advice; you should talk to her and clear the air.”

“You know her better than me.” Hyunjin reminded him. “Do you really think she will take it well?”

Jisung considered his question for a moment. “Probably not.”

***

9pm.

On a normal day, Hyunjin would have been already back at his place, relaxing with some food and a TV show. Tonight, however, he dreaded the moment he would have to go back home and found himself stuck with thoughts he wanted to avoid. But if Hyunjin thought staying at work would save him from you, he was wrong.

The door to his office was pushed, the sound making him realize that he wasn’t alone on the floor as he initially thought. His eyes widened in shock to see you standing by the door. He gulped nervously as he eyed you from head to toe. Hyunjin didn’t think you could look any better but you proved him wrong again. You wore different clothes from this morning; a leather skirt along with a white blouse. Hair tied in a ponytail, red lips. Sexy, confident and delighted with his reaction. He quickly averted his eyes, refusing to let you see how affected he was with just your presence.

Foolish of him to think it would stop you.

Hyunjin heard your light steps getting closer to him. He tried to pretend you weren’t here but as you got closer, so did your sweet, intoxicating scent. He watched from the corner of his eyes as you sat on his desk, your skirt hiking in the process. He shouldn’t be staring at your lovely legs but the temptation was too strong and he was just too weak when it came to you. Hyunjin closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself.

“What’s wrong, Hwang?” You asked and gently grabbed his chin, forcing him to face you.

Such a simple touch and yet it sent shivers down his spine. A simple touch that set his body on fire. “Nothing.” But maybe, Hyunjin was a little stubborn too. “I’m just tired.”

You scoffed at his blatant lie. “You’re a terrible liar. Try again.”

Hyunjin resisted. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“Why not?” You asked instead. “You’re my partner.”

‘Am I only that?’ he wanted to ask instead but no words left his mouth. He simply stared back at you, watching as a frown formed on your face at his silence and refusal to cooperate. It only proved you that there was something wrong with him.

Hyunjin easily freed himself from your grip and slumped further into his chair. “I’m sure you have better things to do, Y/N.” Maybe pushing you away wasn’t his brightest idea, but Hyunjin wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself and to hide his emotions. He didn’t want you to see just how affected he was.

“You’re right.” You said and jumped from his desk. For once, you didn’t want to push his limits. You didn’t want to fight. “I should probably go back to people who actually miss me.”

The moment you turned your back to leave, Hyunjin saw again the image of you, happy, with a man other than him and he didn’t like it. Before you could take another step, Hyunjin bolted from his chair and grabbed your arm. He spun you in his arms and claimed your mouth, any protests swallowed by his mouth.

There was absolutely no way, he could let you leave.

Contrary to what he thought you would do; you didn’t try to push him away. No, he felt you smiling against his lips, knowing you had win this game so damn easily. It should alarm him, but he didn’t find it in him to care. Not when you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to your body. Not when you fought him just as hardly for dominance.

Hyunjin lifted you from the floor, bringing you back on top of his desk. He stood between your legs, grinding against you. His whole body was begging him to do something, to taste you, to devour you. You were his drug and he was more than eager to indulge in his addiction.

“And here I thought you wanted me to leave, Hwang.” You managed to say, wanting to sound smug, but instead your voice came out breathy.  

Hyunjin refused to answer to your provocation. Instead, he hiked your skirt and slid his hand between your legs, humming in satisfaction. You were soaked and he barely touched you. “How come you’re already this wet, darling?”

Hyunjin slipped two fingers inside you with ease, teasing. So wet. So warm. So perfect. And only for him.

You bit on your lips to prevent a moan from escaping. Futile attempt. “Mmmh, maybe because I was thinking about you.”

Hyunjin smiled lazily. “Is that so?” He pulled out his fingers and brought them to his lips, to have a taste. His drug. “Are you hoping to get fucked tonight, Y/N?”

Judging by the glint in his eyes, you guessed that trying to play coy would get you nowhere. “Yes.” You admitted. Because truth was, you couldn’t get enough of him too.

Hyunjin’s smile stretched wider. His hands left your body to unzip his pants, showing you your prize. His pretty cock. Hard and needy. “And who am I to deny you?”

You licked your lips in hunger and anticipation, your body remembering how nice he felt. How nice his cock could stretch you. 

Hyunjin pushed your legs further apart and filled you to the hilt with one strong push. You threw your head back as a loud and needy moan escaped your lips. Hyunjin groaned as you clenched without thinking around him.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He growled and slowly pulled out until just the tip of his cock was inside of you.

“Don’t hold back.” You pleaded. You wanted him to show you no mercy. To ruin you completely. To leave you begging, drooling, unable to do anything except beg for his cock.

Hyunjin hovered over you and planted a sweet kiss. The last one before he let go. He thrust back in. Strong. Deep. Every thrust harder than the last.

You thrashed under him, trying to grab at anything to keep you grounded.

Pointless. 

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the intensity. But his hand closed around your neck, forcing you to keep your eyes open. Forcing you to look him in the eyes as he fucked you with intensity, bringing you closer to your sweet release. So close you could taste it. You could feel it.

“Please, Hyunjin,” You begged, tears pricking your eyes. Your whole body was burning, shaking, begging for release. “I’m so close.”

Hyunjin smirked, “I love when you beg, Y/N.”

Just when you thought you would explode, Hyunjin slowed down. He did once. Twice. By the third time you writhed and cried. You grabbed his arms, scratching him in retribution but it only made him grin.

“Say what you need.”

“Hyunjin, I can’t. Please.” You pleaded, too desperate for relief.

And he complied. He fucked you with force, hitting the sweet spot inside you that made your toes curl. You tried to keep your eyes open, but you couldn’t. Not when your orgasm hit you, waves of pleasures. Your body shook, unable to stop as Hyunjin kept fucking you.

Hyunjin came with a shudder before collapsing on top of you, his head pressed to your breasts. You stayed in silence. The only sound in the room were your pants and the loud beating of your hearts.

“Come to my place?” You found your voice and yet you didn’t sound like yourself. Too vulnerable.

Hyunjin peeked at you, his hair sticking to his face. “Round two?”

***

You were full of surprises.

Hyunjin realized as he stood in the middle of your living room that he should definitely stop making assumptions about you. He came to terms that despite the time the two of you had spent together there were still so many layers of your personality, many things about your life that he didn’t know but was more than eager to find out.

Who would have guessed that you enjoyed cooking? It seemed so out of character. He thought your hobbies would definitely revolve around knives and different kind of weapons. And maybe a shopping addict because your outfits always looked on point. And yet when he glanced over his shoulder and saw you cooking and humming to yourself, it seemed so natural. You had tied your hair in a messy bun and had changed into more comfortable clothes; grey sweatpants and an oversized white t-shirt. You looked so homey, so comfortable, Hyunjin had to fight the urge to join you and backhug you.

He shook off the image of you and him for the sake of his sanity and instead took his time to observe your place. Last night, his attention was fully on you, he barely noticed the details. Hyunjin expected to see a place cold, without personality and with only few furniture because you seemed like someone who just didn’t have time to linger for long in one place.

Boy wrong he was. Warm colors, fluffy blankets and pillows spread all over the couch and on a single chair. Dozens of shelves with books occupied two walls. Pictures all over the main wall in the living room. So many pictures. Hyunjin walked to the wall, his hands in his pockets. Pictures that showed you at different stages of your life. On some you looked like a high-schooler, on some a little older, and always surrounded by people. You looked happy, a big smile plastered on your face on every pictures and sometimes you were making silly faces. On one picture he recognized Chris; he had one arm around your shoulders, dimples on full display and another girl with the two of you. But what got his full attention was the picture of you and the man he recognized from earlier. You were on his back, laughing.

“Ah. You found my wall of memories.” You joined him and looked fondly at the pictures.

“You look different.” Hyunjin admitted without looking at you. You looked free, happy and so warm. A side of you he saw glimpses from time to time but he wondered what it would be like if you were always like this.

You hummed in response.

“Who are they?” Hyunjin asked when really all he wanted to ask was: who is this guy?

“Friends. Some I met years ago and some during my missions.”

“And him?” Hyunjin ended up pointing at the mysterious guy. Was he another of your friends? He looked too comfortable with you, too touchy, too close.

Your face softened at the picture. “My cousin and the only family left. He’s a pain in my ass but I love him.”

Did Hyunjin feel a little dumb for believing he was something more? Yeah. But was he also relieved? Hell yes. He almost wept in relief. He didn’t dare to look at you, scared you would see the emotions written all over his face. But if he thought he could hide from you, he was once more wrong. You saw how tensed he was before he found out the identity of the guy and you didn’t forget his behaviour in his office.

You drew nearer, watching him. “Tell me, Hwang,” You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently tug at his hair. “Did you think he was my man?” You brushed your lips against his, smiling against him. “You’re a terrible spy by the way.”

Fuck my life. Hyunjin should have known that his spying skill weren’t on par with yours but he still thought he was being discrete. Or maybe he was too caught up in his head when he saw you with your cousin and simply didn’t hide well enough.

You bit on his lower lip making him growl. “Were you jealous?”

Hyunjin opened his mouth to protest but closed it as quickly. Who was he kidding? He was jealous and you both knew it.

You laughed fondly and pecked his lips once more before going back to the kitchen without a word.

Jisung was right. He was completely and utterly whipped for you.

***

When Namjoon asked to see him, Hyunjin almost expected another meeting with you. Yet, this time around he was the only one to come. Was it an ominous sign? Maybe but Hyunjin refused to think about it. The past week was incredible. It seemed that the universe was finally smiling at him. Or maybe he got lucky. Either way, he was thriving.

A lead in his case. Many nights tangled up in your sheets. Many stolen kisses. Many giggles. Everything to be happy.

“Should I worry?” Namjoon asked as he eyed him. “You look too happy.” He added seeing his confused face.

Hyunjin bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his smile and shook his head.

Namjoon quirked a brow but didn’t comment. He pushed some papers instead towards him. Hyunjin leaned closer and took a look. He stiffened as he saw the names mentioned on the papers.

“What the,” Hyunjin stopped himself on time. His eyes darted back and forth between what clearly was the contract between the crows and Park Minjun. “How?” But Hyunjin had a feeling, he already knew how. The image of you and blood on your clothes popped in his mind. It had to be you.

“Y/N brought it yesterday. Along with the list of people the crows wanted to sell the weapons too.” Namjoon explained and relaxed in his seat. “I have everything I need for the next step. Which also means the two of you don’t need to work together anymore.”

Hyunjin’s stomach sank at his words. Of course, it was bound to happen sooner or later and it shouldn’t worry him so much now that he was spending more time with you without even talking about work. But then, he was with you last night, you could have told him. But you didn’t. Why?

Namjoon observed him in silence. He expected Hyunjin to be happy to finally be free of you and your temper, but he guessed easily he was wrong. “You seem disappointed.” 

“I-“ Hyunjin began and stopped himself. Disappointed was an understatement but he couldn’t tell him that. Instead, he cleared his throat and straightened his back. “No, I’m good.” 

“Is that so?” Namjoon wasn’t convinced but didn’t insist, it wasn’t his business. “But in case you’re wondering, Y/N asked for few days off. You won’t see her around.” 

***

Hyunjin had a bad feeling that had everything to do with the damn contract you had brought to Namjoon. You kept doing things on your own, things that clearly were dangerous if not impossible to accomplish. And yet, you somehow managed to pull it off. Did you get help? Did you somehow manage to infiltrate the crows? Or maybe you had someone inside who was willing to take a huge risk for you. There were so many possible theories in his mind. One thing was sure, he needed to make sure you weren’t in trouble. 

Like any normal person, Hyunjin tried calling you. Once, twice. Ten times and with no result. It was his first clue that something he didn’t know about was going on. Then, he called Jisung. He didn’t want to overstep some boundaries but he couldn’t ignore how his worries were consuming him from inside. 

Thankfully, Jisung didn’t send him straight to his voicemail. “Whatever it is, I can’t help you.” As if Jisung knew from the start why he was calling.

Hyunjin’s nostrils flared at his words. “Where is she?” 

“Who?” 

“My mother.” Hyunjin snapped. It wasn’t in his character to snap at people and especially not at his friends but his patience was running thin. “Y/N. Who else?” 

“No clue, why?” 

Hyunjin took a deep breath, clenched his fist and counted to ten. Why did it need to be so damn complicated? “Jisung. You’re a terrible liar. You have tabs on everyone. Even Namjoon. So tell me, where is she?”

Jisung gasped loudly, offended that he would use his little secret against him. “I do-“

“Please.” Hyunjin cut him. “I just need to make sure she’s okay.” 

“I promise you she’s more than okay.” Jisung tried to appease him.

“Jisung.”

“You can’t call me every time you need help with her! I’m also her friend and it sucks to be stuck between you two.”

Hyunjin winced at his words that felt like a slap. Jisung was right. And Hyunjin did feel bad about it. Except, when it came to you, he became a selfish bastard. “And I’m sorry for that. But please, help me out.”

“She’s going to have my head.” Jisung grumbled more to himself than to Hyunjin, but despite his words, Hyunjin heard him doing his little magic trick on his computer.  

***

Getting inside a bar, unnoticed, in the middle of the day was harder than Hyunjin had imagined. And just maybe he had overestimated his spying skills. Again. The first person to notice him was the barman; he stared at him with a quirked brow, clearly curious with Hyunjin’s little game. Hyunjin expected him to say something and maybe call the security– he didn’t. He shrugged as if he didn’t care, as if it wasn’t his business.

Hyunjin was not complaining with his little luck.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” Hyunjin recognized your voice instantly. He found you at the other side of the room, heading to the hall along with two other men. And boy you looked pissed. He didn’t know what these men did to offend you, but he bet they were about to spend a very bad time with you.

Any other day, Hyunjin would have felt sympathy for these poor men, but then, Hyunjin really looked at them. One face, he was familiar with. A man he recognized from an old case; he had been a suspect but because of lack of proof he was still a free man. Why are you with him, Y/N?

Curiosity got the best of him; Hyunjin followed you, trying not to make any sound.

“He’s furious.” The second man commented, sounding nervous as he spoke.

“I don’t see how it’s my problem.” You completely disregarded his worries.

“Y/N, you don’t understand. He’s ready to shoot us all if we don’t confess-“ He tried again but you raised your hand, without even looking at him, and it was enough to shut him up.

Hyunjin had to admit it; he was impressed with how your whole body radiated with authority and power. They obeyed you as if they were scared of what you could possibly do to them if they utter one more wrong word.

“And I think,” A voice echoed right from behind Hyunjin. He realized too late that while he thought he was being discrete, someone else had spotted him and had a gun pointed right at his head. Shit.

“You should have this conversation somewhere else.” The man behind him finished.

You glanced over your shoulder. Instead of freezing on the spot or calling for him, you simply stared blankly at them. For once, Hyunjin couldn’t read you, couldn’t tell how you felt about seeing him here. And maybe it worried him a little. Whatever you were doing, he wondered if it was on Namjoon’s behalf. Would you compromise your mission to help him out?

“Walk.” The man behind him gave him a nudge, forcing Hyunjin to get closer to you.

Hyunjin tried to keep his cool, tried not to show how he truly felt but his heart was beating fast and loud inside his chest.

Hyunjin was shoved inside a room. He barely had time to react and to steady himself that a man punched him in the stomach. He stumbled and cursed under his breath. Maybe following you wasn’t his brightest idea after all. Despite the pain, he managed to have a proper look at you. To others, you looked cold, but he saw how your body was tense, your fists clenched. You weren’t indifferent after all and this small fact comforted him.

“What should we do with him?” One of them asked, eying you as if you were the one to decide.

“We should kill him.” Another suggested as he pointed at Hyunjin with his gun. Someone was eager to get rid of him. Hyunjin would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit worried for his safety. If you didn’t intervene, he would have to fight his way out.

Too concentrated on you, Hyunjin didn’t pay any attention to the other three men. He should have. One of them closed the distance between them and drove his knee into the back of Hyunjin’s, forcing him to the ground. Hyunjin groaned, his instincts wanting him to fight back – he didn’t. No, Hyunjin’s whole attention was only on you.

“Who sent you?” One of them crunched to his level but despite his closeness, Hyunjin’s eye were still on you. That, didn’t go unnoticed. The man punched his face, not liking Hyunjin’s behavior. “I asked you a question.”

“What make you think someone sent me?” Hyunjin finally answered but still was not looking at him. He was watching you. And only you. He didn’t want to miss any flinch, any twitch of your eyes, every twitch in your jaw. He wanted to see how you reacted to the violence. See if you cared. “Have you seen this lady?” Hyunjin pointed at you. “What make you think that I’m not here because of her? Because she had me completely bewitched?”

The man scoffed and straightened up. “This bastard is crazy.”

The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Nobody talked. Hyunjin because there was nothing left to say. You, because you were staring back at him. As for the men, they felt there was something going on but couldn’t understand it.

 “Leave us.” You ordered without looking at the men.

“Y/N. You don’t have time. Boss wants to see you.” One of them reminded you.

The only sign of your annoyance was your clenched jaw but you still weren’t looking at them.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You warned them.

But they weren’t listening to you. Or maybe they didn’t know you well enough not to push you. “Let us deal with him.”

A knife flew straight to the man’s shoulder making him cry out in pain and stumble.

“I’ll deal with him and then I’ll meet with boss.” You assured them with one deadly glare. “Now, get lost.”

And this time, they did.

Hyunjin had hoped you would drop your act with their absence, that you would explain yourself – except you didn’t. You stared at him with annoyance and already another knife in your hand.

Hyunjin got back on his feet. He wished he could come closer to you, could wrap his arms around you and make sure that everything was fine. But for once, he listened to the little voice in his head, telling him to stay alert. It wasn’t over yet.

“They respect you.”  He commented.

You shrugged and your eyes darted on your knife. “They do. Most of the time.”

“Who are they, Y/N?” Hyunjin wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to his question.

“Idiots working for the crows.”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched in his throat. “And their boss wants to see you.”

You tuck the knife back in your boot and took a deep breath. The situation couldn’t get any worse, but it somehow did. “Yes.”

There was one question that Hyunjin should be asking. One question that was right on the tip of his tongue and yet, he couldn’t do it. Asking it would complicate things.

“Ask it, Hyunjin.” As you grew nearer, Hyunjin’s heart beat faster. The way you looked at him, the way your body moved – it screamed danger. You halted right before him. Gently, you stroked his cheek.

Hyunjin didn’t want to ask because now he knew, the moment you would give him your answer; his bubble of happiness would burst for good. He did it anyway. “Are you working for the crows?”

Please, say no.

“Yes.”

Hyunjin barely had time to hear your answer. To understand it. Everything turned black.

Rage nearly consumed you.

Hyunjin shouldn’t have been here. He shouldn’t have been seen by these idiots. The moment Jun had pointed his gun at Hyunjin, you had to fight the need to step in and damn the consequences. But then, when Doyun forced Hyunjin on his knees, the urge to hurt someone got so strong, you weren’t sure what compelled you to keep your composure. From outside you had looked indifferent, cold, but inside? You were screaming and burning with the urge to kill and get Hyunjin far from this damn place.  

You were late and judging by how anxious the guys were, you could only imagine in what kind of mood the boss was. But you didn’t care. Not when another man occupied all your thoughts.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and dialed Jisung’s number. You prayed for his own good that he wouldn’t make you wait and answer the god damn phone. There was only one, insufferable person, who could have told Hyunjin where you were.

He answered. “Listen,” Jisung tried but you didn’t let him talk.

“Shut up! You little piece of shit!” You yelled, your grip on your phone was so strong, you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked. “What were you thinking, Jisung?”

Jisung sighed on the other side. He had been your friend long enough to know that whatever excuses he would try to give you, in this state, you wouldn’t listen. You wouldn’t care. “Hello to you too, sunshine.” He chose to say instead.

He had a dead wish. “Don’t.” you warned him with a growl.

“Y/N…”

“What were you thinking?” You repeated again.

There was a loud noise from Jisung’s side, as if he had either pushed something or maybe smashed it. “He was worried, ok? What were you expecting me to tell him?”

“Anything! What if I was with my uncle?” You refused to imagine what could have possibly happened but your brain still did it. You closed your eyes, wanting to erase the image from your mind but it wouldn’t go. You kept seeing Hyunjin and the damn gun.

Your hand shook and at any moment you could let go of your phone. “He would have killed him on the spot, Ji. No question asked.”

Jisung didn’t say anything for a moment, proceeding your words. “And it bothers you?”

“Of course, it does!” The moment those words left your mouth, you realized two things: one, how true they sounded and two, you regretted admitting it to Jisung out of all people. You adored your friend, but he was noisy and would make sure to remind you every day your confession.

“Oh Y/N,” Jisung cooed, forgetting for a second that you were in a sour mood. “Do you actually like Hyunjin?”

Yes. But you held back those words. He didn’t need to know it. “You’re next on my shit list.” And you hung up.

He wasn’t really on your list. Would probably never be, but you didn’t mind him worrying over it.

You stared at your phone for a moment, considering your next step. The reasonable thing to do would go and meet with the boss as it was expected of you but one glance at the door behind you and your resolution wavered. You couldn’t leave Hyunjin unattended. You couldn’t let someone find him and hurt him.

Fuck it.

You opened your conversation with Chris and quickly texted him.

‘I need your help.’

***

Your uncle was indeed incredibly pissed. Not that you expected anything less and not that you could blame him. After all, he had been working on his little project for a year, making sure that everybody was on board with his plan. Making sure to drive Park Minjun in a corner, leaving him with no choice but beg for his help. And what help. A shitty contract. The control of his business in exchange for safety. If only he knew that his current situation was because of him.

Lee Beomseok, your uncle, and the boss of the crows. A man known for his business, for his methods, for his cruelty and zero bullshit policy. He was respected and feared in the underground world. Sometimes, you were impressed with his accomplishment. But most of the times, you wanted to see his world burn.

“Confess!” He yelled at the poor, shaking man at his feet. So maybe Jun wasn’t exaggerating when he said your uncle had finally lost it and started killing every suspect, even if it meant killing his own men.

“Please.” The man begged, his shaking only intensifying as your uncle pressed the gun harder to his head. “It’s not me. I would ne-“ But your uncle didn’t give a damn about his talk of loyalty. He shot the poor man in the head.

You whistled, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest, a look of indifference on your face. “Someone is in a mood.”

You didn’t think his face could get any angrier but it did. The veins in his neck were showing, his face red. “Leave us!” he barked.

Nobody protested, they scurried away in fright.

Your uncle stared at you, his breath shallow. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, probably trying to calm himself down. You weren’t one of his men, his outbursts didn’t faze you. Not anymore. You weren’t ten anymore and he knew it.

“You were supposed to lead them astray.” He said after a moment of silence. He walked to his chair and took seat.

“I did.” You reminded him without bothering to look at him, instead you checked your nails, knowing damn well that your lack of reaction would only fuel his anger. Maybe it amused you a little to see him in this state, his composure long forgotten.

“Y/N.” He warned you.

“What?” You sighed and looked at him, “It’s not my fault if someone gave them your stupid contract and the list. How did you even manage to lose it?” Were you enjoying yourself reminding him his own failures? Absolutely.

You noticed how his left eye twitched at your words, you bet he wanted to grab his gun and shot you on the spot – he wouldn’t. After years of working for him, you knew he valued you too much to kill you.

He slumped further into his chair. “I’m still looking for the fucker who dared to betray me.”

You pushed yourself of the wall and took seat. “Where did you keep it?”

He looked at you, annoyed. “Where do you think?”

“Your safe then. Not many people know where you hide it.” You noted, “Maybe, instead of shooting all your poor men, you should look into your closest circle.” Not that he would find the traitor among them but you wouldn’t mind seeing him kill some of his trusted men.

He considered your advice for a moment and nodded his head. “When I find the traitor, I’ll make him pay his mistake.” He promised.

Except he would never find the traitor. For two simple reasons. One, he underestimated his own son too much and two you made sure while Yeonjun was helping you to steal from his old daddy, Jisung erased all traces of him ever being present in this place.

“Do you need my help?”

Your uncle shook his head. “No. I need you to take care of some business partners who became too bold.”

Of course, the answer to all his problems was always to kill.

“How should I deal with them?”

“Do what you do best.”

A small smile spread on your face. His order was clear. But there was something else you were better at. He just didn’t know it yet.

Hyunjin woke up with his head killing him. It took him a moment to force his eyes to open. He tried to straighten himself in the bed, only to groan in pain. Fuck my life. He palmed his forehead, trying to sooth the pain.

It took him another five minutes to notice his surroundings.

A room. A very unfamiliar room. And then everything flashed through his mind.

The bar. You. The crows. You. Him almost dying because he cared too much. Him being an idiot. You. A damn spy right under their noses.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His head was no longer the only thing that hurt. His chest. His heart clenching so tightly, he thought he could die. Hyunjin couldn’t breathe properly with all the thoughts and images running wild in his head. And yet, with his panic came one realization.

He was still alive.

Hyunjin forced his breath to slow down and had a proper look at his surroundings. It was clear to him that he was no longer in the bar. The room was too nice and looked to expensive. Had he been taken prisoner?

Hyunjin climbed off the bed and slowly approached the door, expecting that any second someone would pop out of nowhere and attack him and finish the job.

None of that happened.

He tried the door and surprisingly it was unlocked which left Hyunjin even more confused. Was he not a prisoner? Why would they let him roam free? With this thought on mind, he left his room, trying not to make any sound until he was certain that he wasn’t in danger.

Hyunjin’s confusion grew with every step he took. The place he was being held in was really too nice and looked expensive. He quickly realized it wasn’t a house but a damn penthouse. Would the crows keep him in a place like this? He doubted.

Instead of finding a stranger or you, Hyunjin found Chris on his phone, wearing comfortable clothes. That was not how he expected things to turn out.

“Oh. Good, you’re awake.” Chris offered him a comforting smile. “How’s your head?”

Hyunjin opened his mouth and closed it right away. He didn’t know what to say, what to ask. Nothing made sense anymore. He went for the easy answer, “I’ll survive.”

Chris hummed. “She didn’t need to smash your head so hard. But then again, it’s Y/N we’re talking about.”

“Why am I alive?” Hyunjin asked. It was the question that had been plaguing his mind the most.

Chris looked confused for a second. He cocked his brow, “Why shouldn’t you be?”

Because you had betrayed them all. Because while Hyunjin was slowly falling in love, you were only using him as a distraction and a means to an end. And yet, despite your harsh words, he was alive and safe. It bothered him and left him with even more questions.

“Because none of it was real.” Hyunjin finally admitted.

Chris got back on his feet and slowly approached him. “You’re alive because most of it was real.”

Hyunjin wanted to protest but Chris was right. He was alive which had to mean something. “You knew.” He said instead.

“Which part exactly?”

“That I couldn’t be her husband. And that she’s working for the crows.” The first time Hyunjin had met Chris, he had thought the man was suspicious because there was something going on between him and you. But maybe, he was wrong. Maybe, it had everything to do with Chris knowing exactly who you were.

“I had my suspicions for the husband part. But honestly, knowing Y/N, I wouldn’t be completely surprised either. As for the last part.” Chris paused and for a second it seemed to Hyunjin that he was somewhere else, lost in a memory. But then, his smile widened, his dimples showing up. “Yes. I wouldn’t have met her otherwise. She saved my ass.”

Chris put his hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder and gave it a strong yet comforting squeeze. “I think you know by now that our little Y/N is a little crazy and dangerous. She has been working her ass off to get what she wants. She was ready to sacrifice everything and everybody in exchange for her revenge. But not you.”

It was obvious by now that Chris knew everything about you. It would have bothered him another time, but now it comforted him more than he was willing to admit. Your betrayal still left him confused and hurt, but he found solace in his words.

Chris’s eyes softened while observing him. “She asked me to get you out and keep you safe for a while. But I figured you’d need some company, so I called for back-ups. They should arrive shortly.”

****

When Chris mentioned back-ups, Hyunjin didn’t think much of it, mainly because he had no clue who could help him out. Turns out, Chris knew exactly who Hyunjin needed to see. How he knew Jisung, Hyunjin could guess. But Namjoon? That was a whole new mystery for him to figure out.

“Dude, you look like shit.” Jisung commented and playfully patted his cheeks.

Hyunjin swatted his hands away from his face. He should probably feel concerned that Jisung kept telling him how bad he looked, but he was too tired and not in the mood for his playfulness. “Oh, fuck you.”

If he thought Jisung would be offended, he was wrong. Jisung chuckled and glanced at Chris, sharing a knowing look. “Sounds a lot like her.”

Namjoon sighed. “I think I need a drink. Or two.” As if Chris had sensed his need, he brought him a glass of what looked like whiskey and a second one for himself. “Thank you. Did you hear from her?”

Chris shook his head as he took a sip. “Not since I confirmed her I retrieved Hyunjin from the bar.”

While they talked, Hyunjin listened and watched. They all seemed so relaxed, unbothered and friendly with each other. And Hyunjin just couldn’t understand why. He never would have guessed that Jisung and Namjoon would actually meet outside of work. Scratch that, he wasn’t even aware they talked, despite Namjoon being their boss.

Sensing Hyunjin’s eyes on him, Namjoon stopped talking and instead approached him. “I have something for you.” He took out his phone and shoved it into his hands. “It’s all the information I have on Y/N.”

Hyunjin hesitated for only a second. Or maybe two. He started reading, surprised Namjoon had so much on her. After his encounter with you, Hyunjin didn’t know what to expect but every word he read about you made his heart clench painfully. A happy family torn apart by a terrible accident which left you an orphan at such young age.

“Lee Beomseok is her uncle. He took her in after her parents’ death.” Namjoon stopped his reading. “Instead of giving her a loving family, he raised her to become a killer. His personal weapon.”

No wonder they respected and feared her so much.

“He made sure she was the best at everything. And she is.” Namjoon continued, “But despite knowing how clever she was, he underestimated her.”

Hyunjin could barely imagine what life was for you. You were just a child, grieving, and yet forced to become something that was not in your nature. Hyunjin’s heart ached for your lost childhood, for the little girl turned into a killer for someone’s greediness.

“What changed?” Hyunjin asked. They hadn’t confirmed him that you weren’t a villain in the story, but it was implied.

“She found out he killed her parents.” Chris was the one to answer his question.

“What?” Hyunjin couldn’t believe it.

Namjoon nodded, confirming Chris’s words. “Being the closest to him, she could have easily killed him. But Y/N plays the long game. When he asked her to infiltrate our ranks, she saw it as an opportunity.”

“And you let her?” Hyunjin had a hard time believing that. Namjoon seemed as someone who always went by the rules. But apparently, Hyunjin was wrong once again.

“Oh believe me, I wanted to arrest her the moment she told me who she was.” Namjoon confessed, his eyes on his glass as he swirled the whiskey around in his glass, a small smile on his face. “But she was hella convincing.”

Yeah, he bet you were.

***

When Jisung and Namjoon left, Hyunjin returned to his room. He needed some time alone, even if he appreciated Chris’s company and willingness to answer almost all his questions. He needed to think, to proceed with all the information he had heard tonight about you.

Tonight, Hyunjin realized just how strong you were. Not only physical strength but also mentally. You managed to hide all your hatred, anger and resentment for years for the man only to have a chance to watch his empire crumble. But also, he admired how despite all the ugliness and death you had witnessed through the years, you still saw the good in people and the world.

Only one question remained. What of you two?

Before Hyunjin could dwell on the matter, he heard familiar voices from afar. Your voice. You were back and safe. It should have been enough for him, for now. But no. Bewitched, he followed your voice.

“You should talk to him.” Chris advised you.

You disregarded your jacket along with your gun and few knives. “That’s not a good idea.”

You didn’t look like yourself. Your hair was a mess. Dark circles under your eyes. He wondered how long he had been unconscious because you looked exhausted and unsteady. At least, you weren’t hurt.

Chris sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. “Stop being a coward.” You snarled in response, eyes shooting daggers. But Chris wasn’t impressed with your attempt at intimidating him. “You care for him and he cares for you. Don’t run away from something good in your life.”

“Me caring for someone never ends well.” You whispered and avoided his eyes.

“I disagree.” Chris put his hands on your shoulders and gave it a squeeze. “Yeonjun would disagree too.”

“You know it will put a target on his back.” You protested.

Hyunjin decided that you should have this conversation with him and not Chris. He couldn’t hide his presence any longer. “I think; I have a say in this.”

Chris didn’t seem surprised seeing him in the room. Or maybe he had spotted him from the beginning and was trying to make you confess so Hyunjin would know how you truly felt. You, on the other hand, froze on the spot. You couldn’t look at him.

Chris walked to Hyunjin, patted his back and smiled. “Good luck.”

Yeah, he would need it.

For a while, you looked everywhere but at him. It annoyed Hyunjin that you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t talk to him. After everything they went through together, he didn’t think you would try to avoid a confrontation.

Hyunjin considered what he should say. Ask about your life with the crows? Ask about your family? Or should he just ask what he meant to you? Now, he knew that you cared more than you were willing to admit and this thought comforted him. Not everything was a lie. Not everything was a game.

“Namjoon told me your story.” Hyunjin finally said and started walking toward you.

That got a reaction from you. Your eyes widened in surprise. “Namjoon was here?”

Hyunjin nodded. “Chris called Namjoon and Jisung. He figured I’d need their help to understand.” And then another step toward you. But you, you took a step back, trying to keep the distance between the two of you. As if it would stop Hyunjin.

More you tried to escape and more it amused him. Until there was nowhere else to go. You had your back pressed to the wall and Hyunjin stood right before you, giving you no choice but to look at him.

“Stop it.” You put your hands on his chest and gave it a push. He didn’t budge. “Hyunjin.”

“I’m sorry he stole your childhood.” He said instead. His voice soft. Compassionate.

You averted your eyes. You didn’t want to see the emotions in his eyes. You didn’t want him to convince you there was a something out there for the two of you. “Don’t be.”

“You deserve to be happy too, Y/N.”

“I’ll be happy if you stay away from me.” You snapped and looked at him. The need to push him away was strong but the moment your eyes locked, your heart missed a beat. Despite your outburst, Hyunjin was smiling fondly at you. “There’s something incredibly wrong with you, Hwang.”

Hyunjin chuckled, agreeing with you. He leaned closer, his lips hovering over yours. “You’re a very bad influence.”

You sucked in a breath. “Even more reasons for you to stay away from me.”

He hummed. His lips brushed yours, so lightly, it could have been your imagination. “I don’t want to. And I don’t think you really want me to either.” And then another press of his lips, this time a little stronger. “You can’t get rid of me now.”

“I’m going to kick you.” You threatened. You would do no such things. Not when he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Or punch you.” You sounded less and less convincing. With every small kiss, your resolution crumbled.

But then he stopped. Hyunjin grabbed your chin, his grip strong. “You’re not getting rid of me, Y/N.”

“When did you get so bold?”

“When I realized I fell for you.” Hyunjin admitted. There was no point denying it. No point hiding it. Despite knowing now everything you had done, some terrible things to get what you wanted, Hyunjin couldn’t deny how he felt. Couldn’t unsee the good person hiding in you. “That’s why, my lovely, murderous, Y/N, there’s no getting rid of me.”

Slowly, you pushed yourself from the wall and wrapped your arms around his neck. “You are in trouble, Hwang.”

“Worth it.”

[delirious-donna]

His Hands [Nanami Kento]

an: it's been a hot minute since I wrote for him, but with the latest developments and the insane amount of Kento content on my dash, I couldn't help myself. This is a love letter to his hands...

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: hair pulling, manhandling, light choking, mark marking, daddy kink, dirty talk, mating press, doggy (all implied), some comfort and fluff because he deserves it

Masterlist

Nanami Kento is not a white knight.

He is not a righteous man, nor is he morally virtuous. Nanami makes no qualms about expressing what matters most to him – his time, his students and most importantly, you. If that means he has to stray into the murky grey areas of ethics then so be it. If that means there is collateral damage in ensuring the safety of his precious priorities, it matters not. However, Nanami Kento is a good man.

Fatigue has been his constant companion these past few weeks. His eyes are weary and less focused than usual, his jaw tight with seemingly endless worry and his hair tousled as if he had run fingers through it time and again. You didn’t know the exact cause of his current demeanour, all you did know was that it was your job to relieve it, at least temporarily.

Hazel eyes met yours. A tight smile faint on his lips whilst you moved from being tucked into his side to straddling his lap. Kento’s head fell back against the couch, his gaze bouncing between your eyes, simply content to observe whatever it was you were up to. Your fingers delicately wrapped around his wrist, brushing against the heavy weight of his timepiece and lifting it to your chest. His hands were rough, callouses built up along the edges of his fingertips and palm through extended training and workouts that would see him dripping in sweat.

“Y’know… I’ve always loved these hands.” An exploratory finger ran over his knuckles, the skin shiny and new from where they had not long been split open. It wasn’t an exaggeration–you did love his hands and what they could do.

An amused huff was his reply, fingers flexing in and out of a loose fist whilst you continued your journey over the wide expanse that was his hand—traversing the depths of his life line only to circle down and stroke over the pad of his thumb. How many times had you helped to patch him up after being injured in the line of duty? Too many. Bloody rags filled the bathroom sink and the smell of antiseptic stung your nose, but you’d rather do it yourself than let him tend to himself. There was no point in telling him you worried, he knew that, instead you filled the silence with the mundane moments of your day to distract him from the stark contrast of his horror-filled one.

“They’re strong and they keep me safe,” you muse almost to yourself. Unbeknownst to you, Kento’s eyebrows lift. His eyes sharpen, throwing off the dregs of tiredness to watch more fixedly at you touching him with a reverence he didn’t believe he deserved. Would you still love them if you knew what he had done with them? Of the violence they had been a part of, the injuries and deaths he had inflicted with them. As if you didn’t already know…

“Sweetheart–” The argument he had readied fell away when you lifted his hand higher, towards your throat. His thick fingers could feel the steady beat of your pulse, no jump in fear of danger, only complete trust. He swallowed; the bob of his Adam’s apple near painful.

Your breathing sped up, knees shuffling forward to bracket his lean hips and pressing your delicate skin further into his careful grasp. Memories rose to the surface of your mind like stones skimming across a peaceful lake, rippling outward until the phantom sensations of days gone by washed over you.

The searing burn of Kento’s large palm swatting at your soft ass; whether in encouragement when your thighs tired of riding him to completion or in admonishment for some very deliberate attempts at stealing away his attention in the midst of his paperwork.

The gentle grip of your ankles when he folded your thighs flush against your chest to be able to plunge deeper into your sopping cunt. His tender hold was the perfect counterbalance to how savagely he was splitting you open. Lazy circles of his thumbs against your delicate ankle bones all whilst you ringed his cock with thick cream and his pelvis smacked wetly against you.

The prickle of your scalp at the sudden yank at the roots of your hair. That deliciously big, thick hand that you adored wrapping your hair so tightly into a makeshift ponytail that you had no choice but to rear back. Warm breath fanning your cheek and neck, the deep rasp of Kento’s words caressing your ear despite how depraved his words were. “Fuck… that’s it, baby… Taking Daddy’s cock like a champ… Let me see that arch… Look at this pretty pussy sucking me back in…”

Nanami had a way of handling you exactly as you needed at any given moment. He wasn’t afraid you’d break like some fragile doll, knowing that you more than enjoyed his manhandling. He could sense how turned on it made you when he would scoop you up like you weighed nothing. Taking your weight into his arms when he fucked you against the hallway wall in those moments he simply couldn’t wait to reach the bedroom. You were his pliant little cocksleeve. His perfect pussy.

With the rough came the smooth. How tenderly his fingers would coast down the length of your spine in the warmth of the morning, stopping to admire the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips and the ripple of your backside when he squeezed it lightly. 

The soft touches against the bruises he had left the night before on your waist and hips. Each one a mark of his possession that he would never fail to become aroused by. The marks of his fingertips, the indent of his teeth on the swell of your sensitive inner thigh. If he were an animal he would scent mark you like the dog he sometimes felt like, rub himself all over you until you were bathed in his musk.

Interlocked fingers and tickles on the palm of your hands. The reassurance that you were by his side when you strolled the sidewalk together, Kento always nearest the traffic and the ability to tug you close with the flick of his wrist.

“I don’t care what these hands might have done to those that deserved whatever fate they befell. All I know is that I love them, and there isn’t anyone I would trust more to hold my heart.”

He nodded, and you knew that would be the best you would get in the form of agreement to your words. The coiled muscles in his forearm tightened, tendons contracting and his fingers squeezing a fraction tighter atop your carotid arteries. You hummed in contentment, eyelids growing heavy and his hand slipped free of your loose hold to rest over your heart whilst the other pressed between your shoulder blades to bring you to his lips.

So, no, Nanami isn’t a white knight but he is the best man you’ve ever been fortunate enough to meet. You would help him face whatever demons were lurking nearby, and with your support and unconditional love, maybe–just maybe–he’d make it back to you in one piece. 

Heaven knows he deserved some time off.

[nixnephili]

Kitsunezai

Posting this on a whim

Here's a little Kitsunezai concept

I always felt like the outfit could be really cool if they could've detailed it a lot more.

When looking at the folkloric feel to Dazai's official Kitsune concept, a few things are identifiable. Here's some stuff-:

-He would be over 100, as kitsune are believed to grow more tails only after reaching that age.

-He's a Yako or Nogitune- which are the more 'morally grey' kitsune. Having a tendency to lean towards mischief and are likely to interact with humans.

-white and black coats of fur are rare, but they are present for nogitune.

In Japanese folk and mythos, kitsune can hold one of 13 powers

celestial, wind, spirit, darkness, fire, earth, river, ocean, forest, mountain, thunder, sound, and time

so they often may wear beads around their necks/ on their person to symbolize the elements

they only wear 12 out of the 13 because they exclude the one element the wearer represents.

So Dazai has 12 beads.

-Nix🌙

[tiredandlonelymuse]

My therapist once told me, “You are the guiltiest feeling person I’ve ever met” and just to prove her right, I took it to heart. An astrologer said, “You have so much water in your chart. What is it like to feel the emotions of every single person alive, everyday?” and I wept because I sensed he was displeased. A teacher told my parents “She’s very sensitive. Far more than the other kids in her class.” I took my SATs at 9 years old, but they encouraged my mother to hold me back because of how my eyes glistened when I heard the word no. She told them to go to hell. So I cried my way through my education until high school when they said “You take everything so personally, you’ll never survive in a company environment. You wouldn’t make a good employee.” So I employed myself (out of spite or…necessity) and then later, I hired 200 people. A boyfriend told me “Don’t be so dramatic, everything isn’t a movie.” Fine, so it’ll be an album then. The doctor said “This shouldn’t hurt a bit.” I tread daily on a minefield that leaves me classifying the variations in footsteps, the tonality in voice, a change in breath. “Is everything okay? You seem mad” is my pledge of allegiance to this tightly wound bundle of flesh. I am cut open, butterflied and flayed, with every single nerve exposed like live wires and, yes, they all hurt to touch. Each interaction is a litmus test of how well liked I am, and therefore how worthy to live. I wake up every morning and the moral barometer resets, T-minus 12 hours to prove to myself that I am not the bad person I believe I must be. Sleep, repeat. An amnesiac nightmare. Prometheus on a rock and the gull in my guts is myself. I once envied those with greater armor, but not anymore. “Why do you care so much?” Guard yourself from the little grievances, but the shield does not differentiate. The space where I am vulnerable to the pain that passes through is an entry point for the microscopic good that others may miss. I live in technicolor torment. If I could do it over again and choose the comfortable grey, I would seize a knife and cut the little keyholes back into my every limb. So the light can get in.