#and if i shoot back n kill them then there's ALWAYS a witness who reports it as murder christ

[cerbreus]

i may be bad at many, many video games. but i am comically bad at rdr2

[thetraingotsetonfireonmidnight]

Do u know the ”i chose my path you chose the way of a hero. And they found you amusing for a while…” etc tiktok sound. Or it’s from spiderman originally.

So. What if someone has a quirk that they can show the futute to class 1a and maybe all might. And they see y/n actually saying it to someone. Maybe deku?So he has turned to villain. What would class 1a/teachers think? And what would be the reason y/n did it?🫣

If you want to do character x reader you can choose who.

Interesting prompt! Hope this suits your needs:

𝔈𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔪𝔞

[Class 1-A x reader (no romance)]

Warning: mentions of blood and injury.

Enigma.

He was a mysterious villain that showed up out of no where years ago.

Many theorized that he was the man behind strange and sudden disappearances of random civilians. None of them had anything in common, but they were all killed in a similar fashion. Quick and painless.

More so you.

No one knew who he was or what kind of quirk he possessed, but what they did know was that he wanted Deku and you dead.

You were his main target.

You had to have body guards follow you around everywhere you went.

You were unable to attend your normal classes.

There had been multiple times in the last few weeks when you'd hear a loud bang and immediately duck to hide. You didn't wonder where the shooting was coming from, you knew it was Enigma, trying to take you out from wherever he hid.

The only person you had was Deku, as you two decided to stay close and support each other. It wasn't easy, but you both tried to be as positive as you could.

You'd often catch Deku muttering to himself possible theories as of to why you two could possibly be the main targets. If you had stopped villains that he had connections with, if there was something of yours he'd want...so many theories, not enough answers.

He never seemed to get anywhere.

Eventually, the pros caught Enigma. It was all over the news. Reporters immediately rushed to the scene to get answers. Everyone wanted an explanation.

Though students weren't authoritized to witness villain questioning, they made an exception for your class. You all stood safely behind pro heroes such as All Might, Aizawa, and Present Mic.

There he sat, tied up in a chair. Though he studied everyone in the room, he refused to make eye contact with you or Deku. Almost like he was disgusted by you.

Aizawa was the first one to speak, "Do you want to try to explain yourself?"

Enigma stayed silent.

Beside you, Iida stepped forward, "Are you not going to say anything? You can't back out now! Explain why you tried to kill my classmates!"

"It's not about what they've done." His voice was low and gravely. He spoke quietly, yet that one sentence alone managed to silence everyone.

Ochaco tried to calm Iida down, but all it did was fire him up more, "You've stalked them, terrorized them, and tried to murder them, yet when confronted you can't at least speak to them? Explain yourself villain! What could they possibly have done to deserve this?!"

"You are all doomed if you don't let me kill them...doomed, I tell you."

Enigma didn't respond.

"Why would we be doomed?" Aizawa's voice was calm. He didn't seem to take Enigma's words seriously.

"Yeah, is there something we don't know?" Present Mic pushed.

Aizawa tried a different approach, "What's your quirk?"

"Honest eye...whenever I look at someone, I know exactly who they are and what they'll become."

"Is that why you kill?"

"You should thank me. I cleared out the majority of potential future villains."

If Enigma only killed people who would grow to become terrible people, then...

A chill ran down your spine. Could it really have been true? Had this man been saving everyone?

There had been a popular question that had always been debated; If you could go back in time and kill an evil person while they were just a baby, would you?

The whole idea behind it was that there was no real right answer.

Some saying they would to save everyone.

Some saying they wouldn't because they fear the consequences it could bring.

Thankfully, no one ever had to think about it for too long because it was impossible to do. No one ever had to make that decision.

But Enigma did.

He faced that decision everytime he looked at someone.

You wondered what his victims would've grown up to do had he not stopped them.

Had he made the right choice?

As you wondered about his past targets, you began to wonder about yourself.

"You're doomed," Enigma sang, "doomed, doomed, doomed."

"What did you see in your vision?" Aizawa asked. For the first time during this whole questioning, your mentor actually seemed...slightly worried.

"Cities destroyed. Lives lost. All at the hands of two of your students."

"Young Y/N and Midoryia?" All Might gasped. "No, that's impossible."

A few chuckles were heard, followed by amused whispers.

"Oh please, as if Deku could do any of that." Bakugou scoffed, "He'd break all of his bones, blow up, and die before he'd ever get the chance to kill anyone."

"Very helpful, Kacchan." Deku muttered.

"Do you think this is a joke?"

Everyone went silent.

"Do you think this is funny? The sights I've seen? Oh yes, let's laugh at the crazy man. None of you ever listen." Enigma writhed in his seat, "Let's see if you all start laughing once you see this."

A giant eye materialized before you. Aizawa went to use his quirk, but All Might stopped him.

"Look..."

The eye blinked, and inside you could all see a vision. Enigma's vision.

You circled him, looking at him as if he were a kicked puppy, "Oh get up, Deku. Don't tell me you're already tapped out."

Crumbling buildings, foggy skies. At the center of this horror landscape, lied you and Deku.

Deku sat, his back rested against a rock. He held onto his side in pain, blood spilling from between his fingers as he tried to even out his breathing.

Deku tried to stand on his wobbly feet, his breaths short and shallow. "It's not too late to change. You don't have to keep doing this."

"I chose my path and you chose yours. There's no going back. Why do you even bother? Isn't it tiring always having to be the good guy?" You swept a foot underneath Deku's, and he fell to the floor. "Poor little hero...all alone... with no love or support. The people you're saving aren't even greatful."

"You don't know that."

"Oh but I do. I'm sure your fans found you amusing for awhile...but the one thing they love more than a hero, is to see a hero fall."

"That's not true–" You kicked him in the stomach.

"You've seen how quickly the crowd turns against the heroes. How easily their minds can be changed. What makes you the exception?" You kneeled down, grabbing a fistful of Deku's messy hair. You lifted his head, staring him dead in the eyes, "In spite of everything you've done for them, eventually they'll hate you. Remember that." You dropped his head, letting it land against the cement.

You stepped away, off to who knows where before Deku spoke up, "Will the League...really...make things better?"

You smiled, "Of course."

"I'm in."

The vision ended.

Silence.

"Not so funny now, is it?" Enigma laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed so loud that it was all you could focus on.

You don't remember being pushed out of the room.

You don't remember all of your friends arguing about whether or not the vision was true.

You don't remember Deku avoiding you for the rest of the day.

You just remember Enigma's laughs,

And his promises of the inevitable doom you would bring.

[hexiva]

I have now read every single one of Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels, except for Live and Let Die, which I had to stop once I hit the chapter title which includes the N-word. Here’s a list of things you will encounter in these books:

James Bond throws up due to trauma at least once per book

Racism

No, really, more racism than you’re expecting

Yes, even for the 50s

At one point Bond writes a letter in his own pee

“All the real hep-cats smoke reefers!”

Many comments on the nature of American culture, including the “exotic pungency” of American road signs

Extended passages of James Bond being racist against various ethnicities you didn’t even know one COULD be racist towards

No seriously, James Bond inexplicably despises Bulgarians

A lengthy passage in which Bond shares his opinion that homosexuality is caused by giving women the right to vote

Bond gets tortured for the first time and immediately comes over all political and philosophical like, “Maybe communism is good actually, and also the Devil is a good guy?”

At one point Bond gets brainwashed by the KGB into trying to kill M

Bond is a grade-A Karen who delivers all of his restaurant orders with lengthy specifics as to how the food should be prepared, and gets pissy if it’s not up to his specifications.

“a gay, happy little crocodile” 

Bond is very excited to learn that in New York there are places where you can watch porn with sound AND color.

James Bond is The Most Boring Man in the World. His hobbies include golf and complaining about food.

Late in the books, Bond’s fiancee is killed right in front of him, and he starts showing PTSD symptoms and, instead of being all macho-man “I don’t need no help,” immediately starts going to every doctor available trying to get treatment

At one point the government tries to offer him a knighthood or some such and Bond messages back that he refuses the knighthood and that “My principal reason is that I don’t want to pay more at hotels and restaurants.” When told that this is too rude, he amends it to, “I am a Scottish peasant and I will always feel at home being a Scottish peasant.”

At one point the Bond girl is tied down by the villain of the book to await being eaten alive by crabs. Bond is terrified for her, but she, being something of an amateur zoologist, knows perfectly well that crabs aren’t gonna eat a living human, so she just chills there on the beach and waits for them to go away.

There is literally a damsel in distress tied to the actual train tracks, presented without irony

An MI6 agent speculates, in an official report to headquarters, that the target may be homosexual because he can’t whistle. Apparently men who can’t whistle are gay.

Bond is drafted to act as the villain’s secretary not once, but two separate times in two separate books. 

When Bond is at a boring party at a hotel conference room and is ordered by his employer to liven up the party, he accomplishes this by ORDERING THE HOTEL BAND, who were previously singing a censored version of some song, TO PERFORM A STRIP SHOW FOR HIM AND THE GUESTS WHILE SINGING THE DIRTY VERSION. This is his second idea, after he previously livened up the party by using one of the girls in the hotel band - the same one he wants to strip for him - as target practice by balancing a false pineapple on her head and shooting it. 

Bond exchanges a look with a fellow secret agent that is said to be “the recognition that exists between crooks, between homosexuals, between secret agents.”

“A hand-painted sign said ‘SNAX’ and, underneath, ‘Hot Cock Soup Fresh Daily’.”

The backstory of the villain of The Man with the Golden Gun is as follows: there was once a circus elephant who got REALLY HORNY and then went on a rampage and was shot by the cops, and then came back to the circus to  pathetically and tragically attempt to perform its circus act one last time. The child who was supposed to ride the elephant in the circus act witnessed all of this, and when the cops shot the elephant dead while performing its tragic act, the boy grabbed a pistol and SHOT ONE OF THE COPS in revenge for HIS ELEPHANT DYING. And that boy grew up to be a deadly, womanizing, hired gun, with three nipples, whom MI6 speculates must be gay because he can’t whistle. And that’s the villain of the book.

These books will make you hate the British as much as every single villain seems to

Waaaayyy more casual drug use than you would expect

like, seriously, at one point Bond is AT DINNER WITH HIS BOSS in his boss’s fancy-ass club, and he orders an envelope full of benzedrine from HQ and just casually pours it into his glass to drink with his champagne.

M lives with the man who used to be M’s Chief Petty Officer on his last naval posting, and who had followed M into retirement, and I am pretty sure they are boyfriends.

When Bond sleeps with the Bond Girl of Dr. No, she orders him to “Take those off and come in” and “You owe me slave-time. Do as you’re told,” proving once and for all that James Bond is a switch, I rest my case your honor

[mediocre-writerr]

safe and sound [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x reader

requested by anon: Hi! I love your Criminal Minds fics and was wondering if I could make a request? Where JJ and reader are dating and it’s set during the season 7 finale where reader is the one who shot the robber and is the one who was taken instead of Will. JJ and reader reunite with a fluffy ending. 

*not my gif*

Kings and Queens. Jacks and Jokers. 

Sound familiar, right? When you hear that you think of the playing cards, not some bank robbers who have been robbing internationally. 

It was a bank robbery. Something that you have been reported to at least five times throughout your career, but this time it was different. The robbers known as the “Face Cards” have been robbing banks all over the DC area, only this time were you called onto the scene.

You and your partner Will were driving around on patrol when your police radio went off, “All units in the vicinity of Penn and Southeast, robbery in progress at Colonial Liberty Bank. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at the Colonial Liberty Bank. All units.”

Will and you looked at each other as you grabbed the radio, turning the steering wheel to make a U-turn, “426 responding,” 

Will flicked on the sirens as you started to pick up speed. The two of you finally parked on the side of the bank to prevent them from escaping through the side doors, “Better pull back and see if they respond-” Will was about to go on went a shot rang out and a bullet narrowly missed his head. 

“Shit! Cover!” you yelled. 

The two of you took behind the car as you fired at the man who tried shooting Will. The bullet ripping through the man’s shirt and through his shoulder. You watched as the other man began pulling him away from the door and back inside. 

You called for backup and not too long after JJ came running towards you, embracing you in a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Will over here got pretty lucky,” you said with a smile on your face, patting his back. 

JJ scanned your face, her hands never leaving your cheeks. You grabbed a hold of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm of them, “I’m okay, let’s just try catching these guys okay?” you whispered and she nodded letting out a sigh. 

Most of the day was spent talking to Chris as you all watched Oliver die. The only goal was to get the hostages out of there without anyone getting hurt, “No more feds. I want the cop who killed my brother,” you let out a sigh, placing your head in your hands.

You, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch all stood there in the van, “Well, I gotta go out there, don’t I?”

“No, absolutely not!” JJ exclaimed.

You looked at your girlfriend with a sad smile, “What other choice do we have?”

“Something! Anything else! They will shoot you the second you walk in, is that not running through your brain?!” she basically yelled.

Hotch and Morgan met your eyes and they took your face to give the two of you some space. Once they left, you looked at JJ and placed your hands on her waist.

She finally leaned in to your touch and placed her hands softly along your neck. You placed your forehead on hers as she sighed. You pressed your lips on hers, kissing her intensely. You wanted to show her how much you love her and care for her even if you’re about to run into a bank full of robbers who probably want you dead.

Once you pulled away, she noticed the determined look in your eyes, “No, no, no! You can’t do this! What about us? What about Henry?” 

“Four people are dead because I killed his brother,” I whispered. 

You pulled away from your short embrace, walking backwards towards the door of the van, “No please! Please don’t leave me!” she exclaimed, tears running down her face as she slid her back against the wall.

You wanted nothing more than to run up and hold her, but you knew that this needed to be done. So no one else could die for your mistakes. “I don’t have a choice baby,” you whispered again, “I love you and I love Henry. Remember that, always,” 

Hotch already knew what you were gonna choose, SWAT members hid behind the cop cars, already pointing their guns inside. You took a deep breath as you started to walk towards the bank. 

You could hear JJ’s screams as you slowly walked towards the bank, “Morgan! Let go of me! Y/N! Y/N stop!” 

You raised your hands up immediately, walking into the bank, “C’mon Chris, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now please, let them go,” 

“You go,” Chris said, forcing a mom and her children out of there, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him. 

There was no response from him as he just shot you twice. The bullets firing echoing throughout the entire building and outside. JJ scrambled in Morgan’s arms, her bright blue eyes widening, “No!” 

The team sat there in the van with JJ. All eyeing her like she was about to just explode. One wrong word would just cause her to go crazy, “Where were they shot?” she asked. Garcia just stared at her unsure of what to say, “Where were they shot?!” 

“I don’t know,” Garcia muttered. 

JJ picked up the stack of papers that were lying next to her and threw them at the wall of the van. Smacking her hands down onto the cool metal. Everyone just stared in shock, unsure of whether you’re alive or dead.

Luckily, he didn’t go for the kill shot.

You laid there as you could feel your body going cold. Your shoulder was bleeding out and the hostages who were helping you started to get a little blurry. 

All you could think about was JJ and Henry. The way Henry would run up to you when you’d go over to their house and hug you tightly. 

Or the nights where both you and JJ were off, Henry would lie in the middle of you as a movie played. Eventually, Henry would fall asleep cuddled up next you. Then JJ’s lazy arm would wrap the both of you. Once you made sure they were both sleeping soundly, you’d wrap your arms around both of them safely and securely. 

“I need to cause a distraction while you guys get out of here,” you told the man, who was applying pressure to your wound, “But I need you to tell my girlfriend Jennifer and her son Henry that I love them so much and I’m sorry,” 

The rest of the time you spent at the bank was a little fuzzy. You were more focused on trying to get Chris to turn on the woman and trying not to pass out from blood loss, than anything else. 

Before you knew it there was an explosion and you were just getting pushed into a car. The whole car ride, you focused your breathing, trying your hardest to stay awake. 

The only thing keeping you going were JJ and Henry. What you would do just to hold them one last time. 

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when you arrived at a fire station. The fireman helped patched you up much to Izzy’s choice. You watched as she shot him multiple times before sneaking into the firehouse to grab you a change of clothes. 

“You didn’t have to kill him,” you muttered.

“He was a witness, he needed to go,” she shot back without an ounce of remorse. 

Then the next thing you know you were transported back to the car. Everything was going fine or well okay for being a hostage to two psychopaths. Until Izzy just started opening fire on Chris.

“Well Detective Y/L/N, take Chris out of the car and get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a little drive,” she told you, the gun pointed straight at you, “Stop here,” she muttered after a little bit.

The backdoor opened to reveal the Joker himself. He was the former Marine who helped keep pressure on your wound. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight before ultimately remaining your composure.

“Hey Y/N!” he patted your wounded shoulder and you tried your absolute hardest not to wince, “Sorry, forgot about that,” 

“Drive,” she said again.

“Where?” 

“Take me to see your son,” Izzy said and you shook your head. Henry wasn’t your sign biologically, but the longer you and JJ dated the longer it felt like he was. Like your entire life he was actually yours, “I said, drive!” 

You took a deep breath in before driving towards JJ’s house. The drive was tense as your knuckled turned white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. You just hoped and prayed to whatever type of God there was that they could keep Henry safe. 

JJ would be able to get over the loss of you, but the loss of Henry. That’s a different kind of loss she’ll never be able to survive. 

You finally parked across the street. You smiled softly at the sight of Henry playing in the front with Miss Kate and her daughter. 

“He’s a cutie,” Izzy told you and your smile quickly faded, “Looks a lot like Jennifer. Where’s the hospitality Y/N? Come on introduce me!” 

You got out of the car slowly walking up to the house, “Y/N!” Henry yelled, running towards you as he wrapped his arms around your legs. 

You crouched down so his tiny arms can wrap around your neck. You held him tight and close, sucking in a deep breath. Just for a moment, you were transported back to one of your favorite parts of the week. Just for a moment, he was safe in your arms.

Until he wasn’t. 

You told Miss Kate that it was okay to go as Izzy followed you into JJ’s home. Once Henry ran off to grab some toys, you turned your head and looked straight at her, “You touch my kid and I will kill you!” you said with teeth gritted.

Izzy clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making a tsk noise, “Now do you remember the deal Y/N? You touch me and both you and Jennifer die. Who’s gonna take care of Henry then?” 

“Y/N! Come play with me!” he exclaimed, running back in.

You crouched down again, ruffling his blonde hair, “I would love to, but I can’t right now buddy. You see, I have to go back to fighting bad guys, okay? Izzy over here is gonna take care of you until mommy comes home,” you could feel the tears start stinging your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling.

“So you’re gonna be a good boy for Izzy, okay? Listen to everything she says, okay?” you ask him

“Okay,” he replies innocently. 

“One more thing bud,” you pull him close to you as you hug him tightly, “I know I am not your mom or dad, but I love you so much. Did you know that?” 

He nods and you smile softly, “I will never let anything hurt you. Everything is going to be okay,” 

“Everything will be okay,” he mumbled back, “I love you Y/N,” 

You sniffled, “I love you too buddy,” 

You take a deep breath and back away from him. Before you walked out of the house, you looked Izzy dead in the eye, pushing your shoulder against hers on the way out. 

You sung open the car door before slamming it shut, “What the fuck do you want?!” you asked. 

“Woah, easy tiger,” Matthew told you, “You’re going to listen to everything I say. If you as dare mutter the two lettered word, your boy is as good as gone. Or should I say Jennifer’s boy is as good as gone because he’s not yours. He will never be your own kid,” 

Matthew made you drive to the train station where he strapped a bunch of bombs to your chest and chained you up like you’re some random zoo animal. Then he ran, like the coward he is, he ran. 

You thought you were as good as gone. But that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was that Henry was safe. He was stuck with the psychopath that is the quote on quote “Queen”. 

Just when all hope was lost Prentiss came running in, “I found Y/N!” 

She ripped the duct tape off your mouth, “Izzy’s got Henry. Forget about me! Make sure Henry’s safe, please!” 

“JJ’s there right now. She’s gonna keep him safe,” Emily tried calming you down, “I’m not leaving your side, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can be with your family,” 

Emily was panicking as she tried to find a way to keep you from blowing up into bits. She punched in one passcode and it beeped, showing that she only had two tries left. 

You shook your head, knowing that in a minute you’ll be gone, and Emily could not be here to be included in the damage.

“Emily, just go. Get everyone out of here,” you pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, I told you you’ll get to be with your family and that’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to leave you,” 

When she finally unlocked the code, another box opened. 30 seconds flashing and taunting you. This is how long you have left live. 

“Emily, tell JJ that I love her and that I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Now leave please! There’s still a chance that you could save yourself so go!” you screamed. 

She sat there looking at the wires before out of nowhere without speaking she just cut one, “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, shutting your eyes close.

After a couple seconds, nothing happened. You opened one eye and looked down at the timer. It stopped. You let out a breath and an empty laugh, leaning your head against the pole.

“Emily, I love you and I love that you’re JJ’s best friend. But let me just say, I did not think we’d get this close to where I trust you with my life...literally!” you joked and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get you to your family,” she told you.

As soon as the bomb squad came to disarm you, you wrapped your arms around Emily, pulling her into a tight hug, “Thank you,” 

“Of course,” 

You were finally discharged from the hospital after a couple hours. Rossi reassured JJ that she could stay home with Henry and that he’ll drive you to the house. She was hesitant at first, but Rossi basically forced her to stay home.

Rossi parked in front of JJ’s patting your shoulder softly, “Enjoy your time off,” he joked.

“Oh trust me, I will,” you fired back and the two of you let out a hearty laugh.

You walked into the house slowly. Henry’s little voice echoing throughout the foyer was like music to your ears, “Y/N! You’re back!” he yelled.

You kneeled down as he made a bee line towards your arms with your arm that wasn’t in a sling, you hugged him tight. Even with one arm you could tell that he was struggling to breathe at how tight you were hugging him.

“I am! Did you pick out a movie tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows up at him.

“Yup!”

“Which one did you pick?” you asked and he showed you the DVD case of Shrek 2, “Nice choice bud!”

You looked up to the sound of footsteps to see JJ walking towards the two of you, “How about you brush your teeth and change into your PJ’s and me and your mom we’ll get the bed and movie all set up? How does that sound?” 

“Great!” he replied with a big smile.

“Great!” you responded, ruffling his hair, pulling him into another hug, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too,” he told you before running off. 

You stood back up to face JJ. At first she looked angry before her anger turned to sadness. You took her into your arm as she buried her face into your neck, “It’s okay,” you whispered, “Everyone’s safe. I’m safe, Henry’s safe, you’re safe. We’re okay,” 

JJ took your face into her hands, running circles on your cheekbones, “I know Henry’s not biologically mine, but he means the world to me Jay. I wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to him,” 

“You’re just as much as a parent as I am,” she whispered.

“But he’s not mine,” you told her. 

“Then let’s change that, Y/N Y/L/N, marry me. We’ll get married in front of all of our friends and family. Henry will be your son, blood or not. And I will be your wife,” JJ whispered.

You smiled at her softly, “You know, I always wanted a wife and son,” you whispered to her.

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

“In every single language,” you murmured, pressing your lips upon hers. 

You and JJ stood there for a minute, just relishing in each other’s embrace. Your lips moving in sync. When all of a sudden you hear a little, “Ewwwww,” 

The two of you pulled apart and you saw Henry all dressed up in his Captain America pajamas, “Who are you ‘eww-ing’ Mr?” you asked him and he giggled as he ran away from you.

You immediately ran after him, JJ yelling after you, “Y/N! Be careful of your arm!” 

Henry squealed as you picked him up with your one healthy arm, spinning him around the bedroom before dropping him onto the bed. You crashed in your usual spot next to him as JJ put on the movie. 

You felt Henry’s little arm wrap around your body and once his grip loosened you knew he was asleep. Your eyes glanced over to JJ who was sleeping safe and soundly, her chin resting on top of Henry’s blonde head of hair. 

You sighed contently, as you turned on your side, wrapping your arms around the two of them. Henry’s head close to your chest as your forehead rested on top of JJ’s. 

Just for a moment, everything was right where it needed to be.

[heliads]

Never Trust Your Friends

Y/N might have feelings for Newt, the newly arrived blond runner. Newt might have feelings for Y/N, the second in command who’s been in the Glade longer than anyone except Alby. When Minho and Alby assign them both to work together on a project, they’re sure it won’t end well.

masterlist

If he were smart, Newt would not be staring. He would be focused on his friends, on the bubble of chatter surrounding him. He would most certainly not be staring at the girl and boy across the Glade who stand together, speaking in hushed tones. They’re leaning against a wall of the Homestead, exchanging words as their eyes cut across the Glade, lingering on different people. Alby gestures towards the scraggly woods of the Deadheads and says something, Y/N nods and counters his point. But Newt doesn’t know any of this, because he is decidedly not looking at them. Not at all.

There’s a laugh from behind him, and Newt belatedly turns to see Minho striding up next to him. “If you spend any more time focusing at Y/N instead of your food, Frypan’s going to burst into tears.” Newt glares at his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Minho just grins. “I’m sure you don’t. Are you obsessed with Alby instead? Is that why you keep looking over at them?” Newt shoves Minho, but the dark-haired boy just laughs harder.

Maybe Newt’s not exactly being subtle. Yet even after Minho walks away, still chuckling quietly to himself, Newt’s gaze flickers back to Y/N and Alby. Their heads are bowed in conversation as they talk over every aspect of life in the Glade. Alby’s first in command and Y/N is second, and between the two of them, they’ve managed to make life here in the Maze make sense. At least, as well as you can when you’re a group of teenagers living in a giant bugging labyrinth.

Alby was the first one to show up in the Glade. Newt can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like to arrive in the Box, utterly alone except for the shrieks of the Grievers at night. Y/N came up next, and the two of them had to figure out how to survive with no one else around. They don’t trust anyone as well as they trust each other, although that’s no surprise. They had each other’s backs when nothing made sense, and their friendship has only grown as more and more people arrived at the Glade.

Some days, Newt wonders if he could have been able to do the same- show up in the Glade with only one other person and not lose his bloody mind. No matter how hard it was, how many times they came close to giving in, Y/N and Alby still managed to set up the Glade and all of its rules, which have lasted the months until now. Newt came up a couple months after them, and he’s been able to watch as Y/N and Alby shape the very lifestyle of the Glade.

Somehow, it doesn’t surprise Newt that Y/N and Alby were the first ones sent up through the Box. He doubts anyone else could have managed the daunting task of running the Glade and keeping everyone in line. Newt can still see them now, where they always meet at the end of the day to run through everything that happened and make mental checklists of what needs to be accomplished tomorrow. Newt is lucky he’s a runner- all he has to do is keep moving. Y/N and Alby have to consider the wellbeing of every single one of these poor shanks, and Newt just wears holes in his trainers alongside Minho.

Newt stands up, stretching. He hands his empty plate to Frypan, heading back towards the Map Room to make sure the day’s run has been properly catalogued. Just before he disappears into the only half-completed wooden hut, Newt glances over his shoulder one last time. A slight smile appears on his face when he sees Y/N. Of all the Gladers, she might just be his favorite.

You’re considering a tomato plant in front of you when you first see them. Today, you’ve been directed to work with the track-hoes: some slinthead was fool enough to mess with the builders and now he’s spending the day under the watchful gaze of the Med-jacks. There are barely enough track-hoes as it is, so you’ll be filling in the spot until the guy heals sufficiently to garden once more. That’s the role of a second-in-command, you suppose, doing whatever needs to be done.

The tomato plant in question is finally ripe. You’ve been eyeing it for a couple of days now, and you think it looks good. You reach for a makeshift basket, propping it up on your hip while you pluck the crimson red vegetables (or is it fruits?) from the stem. A sudden movement beyond the rows of plants distracts you, and you look up to see the figures of two boys running through the Glade, having just left the towering walls of the Maze behind them. Newt and Minho, done with their day’s work as Runners.

They spot you and smile, and you raise a hand in greeting. You do your best to look casual, effortlessly cool, but you’re not sure that you’ve succeeded. Your eyes linger on Newt for maybe a second longer than they should, and you watch as the boys head towards the Map Room while their path is still locked in their memory. You thought no one else was around to witness the blush creeping onto your cheeks, but if there’s one thing you should have learned throughout all of your months in the Glade, it’s that nothing will ever go your way. Ever.

Alby leans a hand against the tomato plant in front of you, startling you from your thoughts. You do your best to quell your flinch of surprise, but it’s no good. He’s already grinning with barely suppressed laughter. “I thought you were supposed to be staring at the tomatoes, not the Runners.” You hit him with your gardening glove, but it does nothing to staunch the gleam of triumph in his eyes. “Am I not allowed to greet my friends? Should I turn my back and ignore them instead?”

Alby crosses his arms on his chest. “I didn’t realize greeting your friends involved watching the blond one from the second he entered the Glade.” You look around frantically, making sure Zart and the others can’t hear you, before reaching to swat Alby once more, although this time he’s expecting it and dodges out of the way. He frowns at you. “Hey, rule number two. Never hurt another Glader. I thought you were the one who came up with that.”

You shoot him a look. “I wrote that rule before you started making fun of me. If you’re not careful I’ll revoke it.” Alby shakes his head. “Afraid not. I outrank you.” You mutter something under your breath. “Not if I get rid of you first. I’d have to replace you.” Alby just grins. “If you kill me, you’ll have to explain a homicide to Newt. How would he like you then?” You can only hope that Newt is still in the Map Room, because otherwise the blond boy would see you chasing a laughing Alby out of the gardens with an outraged shout.

It’s a new month, a new day. Newt hears the loud alarm of the Box before he sees it show up, and he and a few others make their way to the center of the Glade to see what new Greenie has been brought before them. He and Minho had managed to get through their section early, so they get to witness the arrival of the latest Greenbean along with the others. About ten minutes later, there’s a shuddering jolt as the Box locks into position.

Newt helps the others fling the doors to the Box open, and just like clockwork, a boy lies on the ground, flung back by the force of the Box coming to a stop. He squints up at the Gladers lining the edge of the Box, blinded by the sunlight. Gally jumps into the Box, offering a hand and the usual declaration- “Day one, Greenie. Rise and shine.”

The Greenie looks as confused as anyone else. He’s tall, with dirty blond hair and a faded off-white t-shirt. The guy’s apparently got the chops to be a runner, as he takes off in a sprint the second his feet touch the ground of the Glade. He doesn’t go far, though, too stunned by the looming walls of the Maze to leave the grassy clearing. Later, Newt hears him shout out his name in a stunned gasp- Ben, Newt thinks he said.

Some Glader arrives to take the Greenie on a tour, so Newt turns his attention back to the Box and the crates awaiting attention within. Newt sees Minho head over to Alby, and the Runner says a few words in a low whisper. Identical, crafty grins spread over both of the boys’ faces, and a sudden feeling of dread rolls over in Newt’s stomach as the boys glance over at him. Alby steps forward. “Okay, you know the drill. Time to check the contents of the Box. This time, the lucky shanks will be, uh, Y/N and Newt.”

Newt stares at Minho in barely suppressed outrage, while his friend does his best to contain a laugh. Newt can practically read the boy’s mind- You won’t talk to her yourself, I’ll do it for you. After a second’s hesitation, Newt strides over, jumping down into the Box and landing with a mild impact on the metal floor. Y/N leaps down a few moments after him, and Newt can hear the sound of the other Gladers returning to their usual jobs above them. Within seconds, it’s just Newt and Y/N in the Box. What is he supposed to do now?

The only thing he can do is what Alby asked him to do- unload the crates of supplies. Y/N pulls a worn pad of paper from her pocket, flipping to a fresh sheet and beginning to jot down the contents. Newt helps to pry open some boxes, checking what’s inside and reporting back. After the fifth box or so, Y/N groans, leaning against the cool metal walls of the Box as a reprieve from the boredom of the tasks. “Shuck, I hate Greenie Day.”

Newt smiles in spite of himself. “Because of the Box or because of the greenie?” Y/N glances over at him. “Both. Too many boxes, and now some new guy’s going to follow me around all day asking questions.” Newt leans over a nearby crate, trying and failing to drum up the energy to continue cataloging the supplies. “Hey, you made Alby go take the tour with the Greenie. That puts the majority of the questions on him.”

Y/N smirks at that. “It’s what he deserves for making me do manual labor.” Newt frowns. “You work with the track-hoes all the time.” Y/N flashes him a grin that makes Newt’s heart freeze in his chest. “That’s different.” Newt returns her grin. “Is it, or are you just complaining?” Y/N sticks her tongue out at him, but she stands up and continues on to the next crate. “I’m ignoring that.” When she hands him another box, their hands touch briefly, and Newt’s distracted from all thoughts of greenies and track-hoes or anything in this bloody Maze. Maybe Minho isn’t so bad after all for sending him down here.

You’re going to kill Alby. There’s no question about it. You’re going to kill him, and there’s nothing he can do to stop you. He knew exactly what he was doing when he sent you down here, and that triumphant smirk on his face when he announced you’d be working with Newt was just the icing on the cake. Of course he’d send you down to the enclosed box with the boy you’ve been crushing on since he arrived here- Alby’s out for blood. Why would he pass up such a golden, perfect, absolutely ruthless opportunity?

It’s all you can do to focus on the crates. You’re gripping the pad of paper like it’s a lifesaver, and honestly, it just might be. Every moment that you spend meticulously copying down the supplies is a moment that you don’t spend looking over at Newt, and the way his golden hair flops down just slightly over his eyes, or the way his arms move when he’s lifting the boxes, or that slight curve of a smile when he looks over at you-

Yes, there’s no question about it- you’re absolutely smitten. If you weren’t sure before, you’re positive now. You do your best to focus on the work at hand instead of the unfairly attractive boy next to you, but it only does so much. That being said, there are enough crates to last far longer than you’d want. The light of late afternoon is shifting into dusk, and by the time Newt is tossing the final crate out onto the grass of the Glade, it’s dark enough that the walls of the Box seem to melt away into the dimly lit air.

Newt stretches his arms. “Well, I’m glad that’s over.” You can’t help a joke. “I can’t wait for next month.” He frowns. “You’re the second in command, aren’t you? Just write us out of this job in particular.” You roll your eyes. “Even second in commands have to follow the rules, even if I’d rather break them.” Newt grins, leaning casually against the wall. “I’ve seen the amount of stuff you and Alby have to handle. I think it would be alright if you skipped out on Box duty every now and then.”

You consider him for a second. “I like the way you think. Honestly, I think you would make a good second in command. If you ever get tired of being a Runner, the position is always open.” Newt shakes his head. “What about you? I can’t take your job away.” You shrug. “I’d step aside for you. You’re the only one in this entire Glade that I think could handle it.”

Newt straightens up, stepping away from the wall to move closer to you. “You mean it?” You stare at him, at the few inches separating him from you. “Yes. I trust you.” Newt nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, as if on an impulse, he leans forward and kisses you. You barely have a moment to realize it’s happening before he breaks away, something like regret beginning to color his eyes. “I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry-”

You cut off his whispers by kissing him again. This time, he doesn’t lean away, not for a while. The two of you stay there, arms wrapped around each other as the darkness falls fully against you, until the lights of the bonfire begin to blaze through the night. Newt smiles down at you, eyes shining with the starlight. “We should probably go before Minho and Alby come to see why we’re taking so long.” You laugh at that. “I’d hate to give them the satisfaction of being right.” Newt shares your laugh, then bends down to kiss you one last time before jumping out of the Box. You watch him as he stands there, silhouette barely visible against the dark, and when he extends a hand down to help you up, you take it without a second’s hesitation.

[dread-on-arrival]

Richard Ramirez - The Night Stalker

Serial Killer Masterlist

General Information

Full Name: Ricardo Leyva Muñoz Ramírez

Born: 29th of February 1960, El Paso, Texas, United States.

Died: 7th of June 2013, MarinHealth Medical Center, Kentfield, California, United States.

Cause of Death: B cell lymphoma 

Faith: Satanism

Heavy drug abuse from around the age of 14 and a highly sugar filled diet caused his teeth to practically rot away, many victims described one of his most notable features as the putrid smell he gave off.

Family

Parents:

Julian Ramirez (Father)

Mercedes Ramirez (Mother)

Siblings:

Ruben Ramirez (Oldest brother)

Jospeh Ramirez (Brother)

Robert Ramirez  (Brother)

Ruth Ramirez (Sister)

Wife:

Doreen Lioy (m. 1996–2013)

Children:

None

Physical Description

Height: 6′0 or 1.85

Weight: When caught he was 155lbs/11 stone but once put on a more consistent diet in prison he weighed 182lbs/13 stone.

Ethnicity: Latino

Hair Colour: Black

Eye Colour: Dark Brown

IQ: N/a

Mental/Physical Illnesses

He suffered with antisocial personality disorder and after two significant head injuries he was diagnosed with Temporal Lobe Epilepsy in 5th grade. Some sources also claim he was a diagnosed schizophrenic or had severe bipolar.

Crimes

Known Crimes: Murder, attempted murder, assault, sexual assault, rape, attempted rape, sodomy, abduction, theft, grand theft auto, possession of drugs.

Nickname(s): ‘The Night Stalker’, ‘Valley Intruder’ and ‘The Walk-in Killer’.

Span of Known Murders: 10th of April 1984 - 24th of August 1985.

Known Number of Murder Victims: 15

Possible Number of Murder Victims: 20+

Youngest Murder Victim: 9 years old.

Oldest Murder Victim: 84 years old.

Caught and Arrested: 31st of August 1985

Trial: 22nd of July 1988 - 20th of September 1989

Charged with:

14 counts of burglary

11 counts of sexual assault 

5 counts of attempted murder

13 counts of murder

Sentenced to: Sentenced to death 19 times.

M.O: Most of his victims were chosen at random when he would break into someone house. Usually he would go for houses with no alarm system or no dogs. If in a house with a couple he would kill the man first, usually by shooting, and then assault the women in various horrific ways. He wouldn’t always kill the women though which allowed for some reports of his appearance to police although most of these proved to be inaccurate. His methods of killing varied from shooting, strangulation, stabbing, bludgeoning and in one case he even stamped an old women to death. At many crime scenes he left Satanic symbols on the victim or on walls such as pentagram and at one he left the phrase ‘Jack the knife’ on a bedroom wall. In one attack he told a women not to scream she said ‘I swear upon God I'm not going to scream’ to which Richard responded ‘Don’t swear upon God, swear upon Satan.’

What created the Killer: He grew up with a very abusive father, the abuse often got so bad that Richard would sleep in the graveyard not far from his childhood home to avoid it. His cousin Miguel came back from Vietnam and would often tell stories of the atrocities that he committed against women there, he showed Richard who was around 12 at the time polaroids of decapitated women or of him raping them. It only got worse when Richard witnessed Miguel shoot his own wife in front of Richard and Miguel’s own children. Richard’s brothers were victims of sexual abuse from one of their teachers however its unconfirmed if Richard too was a victim of this. Injuries he sustained to his frontal lobe as a child can also have contributed to personality defects and he abused drugs from 14 up until his arrest at age 25. Read more about his childhood here.

Quote

“Serial killers do, on a small scale, what governments do on a large one. They are products of our times and these are bloodthirsty times.”- Richard Ramirez

A/N

This is a rewrite of my original summary on Ramirez as Tumblr deleted it not long ago. I really wish I could put more time into this blog but school has become very overwhelming, I am hoping to continue my Ramirez series though but no promises on when that will finally be published. Now time to back up files just in case anything else gets deleted lmao.

[fnf-amateur-writing]

Hello! Can I request a scenario where l Updike with an s/o who got kidnapped and now he has to go save them- if u feel uncomfortable with that you can just do general relationship headcanons for him!

Hey there, Anon. I'm cool with your prompt, no worries!

TW: Kidnapping and violence.

Updike finding out S/O was kidnapped

Everything was rather dull at work. Sure, dealing with anomalies can be cool, but it wears on Updike after a while. Everyday was starting to become nothing more than paperwork, keeping tabs on the freely roaming safer anomalies, and trying and failing to kill Whitmore. Fortunately, his lunch break finally started after a long and boring morning.

Once he readjusted his tie and tucked away his trusty gun in his pocket, he went on a near daily walk to a local cafe. To be honest, it wasn't all that boring, since he now got to be with you during his lunch breaks. About a month ago, you two found out that you took your breaks at the same time. The cafe was also conveniently in between your workplaces, allowing you to walk an equal distance.

Without any incidents or that pestering metal head, Updike made his last turn, with the cafe now being just two buildings down. Strangely, the police were also two buildings down, talking to an employee that Updike recognised in front of the prematurely closed cafe. Avoiding involvement, Updike quickly turned around, waiting until he out of sight of them before checking his phone. You were always there first, so you probably texted him a heads up, but his phone showed no new messages.

It was pretty annoying, but no big deal. He'll just go somewhere else, and maybe you'll be there too if he's lucky.

~~~

The phone next to him rings, whilst Updike sat alone in his office, showing the front desk receptionist's name. That was rather unusual; that number almost never calls him directly, so it was probably important enough to be an exception. "Updike speaking," he spoke in his monotone voice, which was in a tone that easily showed how he says that a dozen times a day.

"Mr. Updike, the police are requesting your presence outside."

Okay, now that was very unusual. Not that the police are here, they show up all the time whenever a case involves an anomaly. But for them to make him go outside, when they usually go up to see him or a collegue, was odd. And he had a clean record too, so it's not like they were going to arrest him.

"I'll be right there," he said. He felt somewhat stressed from the sudden request, so he went a faster pace to the lift--to which he almost pressed the wrong button. He and a cop quickly made eye contact the moment the lift opened, and he followed the man as he beckoned him outside.

"Now, I know you're busy, so I'll get right to the point," the officer says, pulling a phone from his pocket. "Do you recognise this phone and the owner of it?" Updike wish he could say no, but he couldn't; it was clearly your phone, except it now has a large crack on the screen. "Yes, it belongs to my partner. Their name is (Y/N) (L/N)." As clear as he made those sentences, his throat was sore from the dread.

"Sir, are you aware that they've been kidnapped."

... No.

~~~

Looking back at it, he wasn't sure how he kept calm the whole time as the police explained what had happened. Some man had taken you right in front of the cafe. It happened so quickly, that the witnesses didn't seem to notice anything wrong until it was too late. They contacted him when told by employees that he always sat at the same table as you.

As he rushed home, he didn't quite know what he felt. It was a mixture of sadness, anger, stress, and whatever the hell else that couldn't be named that made his hair grey. But he wasn't going home just to wait in misery until the police did something; he was going to look for some clues, as recommended by the authorities. He wasn't aware of any troubles you may have wih your family and friends, but he was informed that most kidnappings are done by people the victim knows, so he had to snoop around your stuff to see if he could find anything to report.

However, he almost slammed himself into his own front door when something else caught his attention: a plain white envelope taped to the door. There was no markings or writing on the outside, Updike noted as he took it for inspection, but he could tell it had a letter in it. Surely, it couldn't be a coincidence this showed up the same day you were taken.

As he went inside, closing the door behind him, he didn't take another step away from the door before tearing the letter open. Within the envelope was a typed letter, which had a clear message despite never mentioning you or Updike by name. Also made clear was that this was nobody you knew, nor was it an anomaly trying to spite him, but rather a particularly greedy criminal who took notice of who you were with.

The letter demanded an absurd amount of cash to be hand delivered, an amount that clearly overestimated even his own wealth. And if he brought anyone with him or brought a weapon, then you would be shot on the spot. Finally, he had until midnight to do so, too, adding onto the stress.

The stress started to become a bit much as his hair grew darker. He had no way of knowing whether the bastard was bluffing, but it wasn't worth trying to find out. But still, there didn't seem to be a good way out anyways. It felt like he was about to snap, feeling some sparks from his head and... a spark of an idea.

He went up a flight of stairs to a closet within the hallway. There wasn't anything remarkable about it's contents, but he took interest on one side, where some suitcases of his were stored. Only one of these was useful right now: a sleek metal suitcase he can't remember even using, but he remembered it being there. After grabbing the case, he ran back downstairs while neglecting to close the closet door.

Now, he wasn't going to place any money in it. No, nothing would be in it. But he had an idea, because maybe the guy didn't quite know who they decided to mess with.

~~~

Updike parked his car on the side of the road, getting out in the abandoned yet familiar area. It was a small part of the outskirts of the city that eventually lost it's population and was left to rot, which amazed him that it hasn't been torn down yet. The only people who regularly come here are the homeless and obnoxious teenagers with cameras who pretend that one of the buildings are haunted for internet clout. However, he does remember coming here too a long time ago to hunt down Whitmore a couple times.

The meeting place was a short walk away, having used to be a local library. The evening sky was getting darker by the minute, and the sun was near set behind Updike as he looked into the old library. As dark as it was, a light was barely visible from the entrance, partially blocked by empty bookshelves. With the case in hand, he walked through the shattered glass double doors and in between two of the shelves.

"I'm here."

The light across the library shifted and footsteps approached. The man looked as dodgy as he expected, except with a bit of a 1950's greaser look to him, and the gun the man held never pointed to anything but Updike. He placed the lantern onto the shelve and approached, saying "hand it over." Definitely not a negotiating type.

Time passed too slow, yet also too fast. Though he normally used his head, Updike had to channel what was within him elsewhere or else the man would shoot him seeing the thunder from his head. Hard, sure, but dong it for you was a pretty good motivator.

In three, two...

As soon as both hands were on the case's handle, Updike managed to give a hard zap through his hand. The case's material made it guaranteed it would shock him, and shock him very badly. He shouted at the sensation comparable to that of a taser, unable to pull the trigger before collapsing. Updike wasn't sure if he was conscious, but it didn't matter since he was already slamming the case into his face. Giving a man a free nose bleed such as this one was usually seen as too barbaric for Updike's taste, but damn it was satisfying.

He took the man's gun and briefly searched his pockets for anything else he might use as a weapon. He pocketed the lighter for the box of cigarettes he carried, since he might wake up and pull a fast one by burning the place down. And then there was a key, and not a usual key one would think of. In fact, Updike knew from the shape that it was meant to unlock a pair of handcuffs. It may be best if he took that as well.

"(Y/N)!" he called out, "are you there?" He made his way to the back, peeking into some rooms as he passed. He heard some sounds coming from nearby, causing him to peek through the old bathroom door. There you were, gagged with a cloth and both hands cuffed to a pipe beneath a sink. You were trying to say something, so he quickly worked the cloth off your mouth and let it fall under your chin. Upon closer inspection he now saw how disheveled you looked and that one of your eyes was black and swollen.

"G-GABRIEL!" you finally managed to scream before coughing from finally having your mouth to breathe through. "I thought you- I thought..." He hushed you before using the key he found on your cuffs, allowing you give him a much needed embrace. "Shhh, it's okay," he said as you cried, "I've dealt with him."

"Now," he picks you off the ground and carries you away from the dreaded building, "let's go. I have an interesting story for the cops."

Now for a surprise bonus ;)

Aftermath headcanons:

Unsurprisingly, you both took off work for a while.

Regardless of how well you can handle trauma, Updike WILL take you to a therapist. He's already got one booked, so you don't have a choice really.

For the first time in the relationship, Updike has been the one to initiate cuddles. He's also just as paranoid as you are, and has become somewhat clingy as a result.

When it was nearing the day you two would return to work, you discussed plans on preventing another incident. Though it may seem a bit far, you agreed on wearing a small tracking device clipped to your clothes until the fear wore off.

The forced therapy sessions did come with benefits for the future. When you eventually had to testify against your kidnapper in court, you felt more confident in your words and managed to tell them everything without a breakdown.

The man didn't stand a chance and earned himself several years in prison.

Finally, once you felt everything was behind you, you walked together to the cafe again. It was a nice cafe and it would be a shame if they stopped visiting.

Some of the regulars and employees recognised you two, and welcomed you back. And as you two sat in your usual spots with drinks on the house, you could finally say it was a pretty nice day with nothing to worry about.

[winterscaptain]

a horrible first.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this takes place during rite of passage, where the unsub is the cop committing murder of undocumented immigrants crossing the border. we pick up right at the end, at the quasi-standoff in the desert. let me know what you think and i hope you enjoy it!! 

words: 1.3k warnings: language, canon-typical violence and death, reader shoots and kills the unsub, mild dissociative symptoms following trauma, nothing too horribly graphic

summary:  “the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” ― g.k. chesterton. au!march 2010

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You brace yourself for a screaming stop in the SUV, immediately following Aaron to cover as Boyd flies out of the decrepit structure on an ATV, firing an automatic weapon of some kind. 

You take a shot.

Time seems to slow as you watch Boyd go down, tzhe innocuous red dot in the middle of his forehead beginning to weep even before he hits the ground. 

Derek fires his rifle from inside the car, but the deed is done. Boyd’s dead. 

Aaron raises his head. If you had your wits about you, you’d see him counting off, making sure all of you are there. “You all right?” 

“Yeah!” Morgan shouts as he leaves the car, but you’re stuck in place. 

“No!” Emily immediately answers, turning on Derek. “Are you out of your mind? You blew out my eardrum.”

Aaron’s been there - the ringing is damn near unbearable. 

“What did you want me to do? He was coming right at us!” 

“I told you I had him.” She’s holding both hands over her ears, but you’re sure that’s not the only reason Derek’s raising his voice. 

“He was shooting at us, Emily.” 

“Well, you could have given me a heads-up!” 

“The loaded MP-5 and the lunatic shooting at us wasn't enough? Come on.”

Aaron lets them bicker, but notices something odd. 

You haven’t moved. You’re staring at Boyd’s body, your service weapon still in your shaking hand, your breath shallow. 

He approaches you slowly from the side, extending a hand toward your gun. He says your name quietly, but you can’t hear him. He repeats himself and you startle as he gets a little closer. 

He’s not as brave as you were when you pulled him off Foyet. He’s almost afraid to touch you, afraid you’ll hurt yourself or draw away from him. 

The look on your face also scares him - it’s simultaneously blank and absolutely horrified. For a moment, he thinks back and realizes, with a little bit of shock, that he knows what it is.

You’ve never shot to kill before. 

“Hey hey hey,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. He places a hand over the barrel of your gun. “Give that to me, okay?” 

Another voice echoes in front of you. It’s Derek, who’s reached Boyd’s body. “Great shot, kid! Right between the eyes on a moving target. They teach you that at the academy?”

You let Aaron take your weapon from your hand, blinking a couple of times. He flips the safety and tucks it into his pants at his lower back, keeping his hands free.

Derek catches on, turning around and sobering. 

Aaron can feel the rest of the unit creep up behind him, but he waves them off. They take a few steps back, watching with bated breath. 

They all remember the first time they shot an unsub, their first kills in the field. A horrible, wretched first. 

“Can you take a step back toward me?” Aaron asks.

You take a step back and trip, stumbling over your feet. 

Aaron’s there to catch you under your arms, pulling you close. All at once, the levee breaks and you let out a sob, turning into him for refuge. 

He closes his eyes and wraps around you. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You did the right thing. It’s okay.” He huffs, and it’s almost a laugh. “That was a really good shot.”  

You clutch his vest, your arms locked around his waist. He keeps whispering to you as the crime scene techs arrive and start their work, shielding you with his body. 

+++

You sleep on the plane home. Aaron sits across from you, working on the after-action report on your behalf. He looks up every couple of minutes as if he’s afraid you’ve disappeared in the time between his last check-in and that moment. 

Derek, Spencer, and Emily watch him watch you. 

“That sucks,” Emily says. “My first hit me hard, too, I think, but like… days later.” 

Derek nods. “Yeah. It’s a shitty first, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m glad Hotch is over there. Probably the best person for this kind of thing.”

“Best person for the kid, too,” Dave says. Derek and Spencer frown. 

Dave continues, clarifying, “Every one of us has someone we prefer when the day gets hard, whether we know it or not. Anchors, if you will. Good to have.” He looks over at the two of you again and doesn’t elaborate further. 

You stir, and when you open your eyes, there’s a fresh glass of cold water next to you on the little side table. You take it gratefully, taking a couple of sips.

Aaron watches you orient yourself, check the time, and start your search for your report. 

“I’ve got it here,” he says, offering it to you. “You have a bit more to do, and I have to keep your gun until all the paperwork goes through - protocol for use of lethal force with a firearm. It’s a simple review, no need to worry.” 

You nod, taking it and thumbing through the extra pages in the back. You’ll probably ask Derek about the best way to fill them out. 

Could ask Aaron, too. 

Hotch. 

Ask Hotch. 

“How should I fill these out? 

He takes a second, interrupting his own reply to stand and promptly plop himself in the seat beside you. “First things first - tell the truth. You did the right thing and nobody in their right mind will dispute that.” 

“Thanks.” 

The shadow of a smile passes across his face. “You’re lucky - this is cut and dry. Not all of us get a dirty cop on an ATV wielding an MP-5 for our first review.” 

“Lucky?” You sound skeptical, at best. 

His mouth quirks. “I know. Poor choice of words. You’ll probably have some rough nights. Do you want me to set up an appointment with the psychologist? The unit technically has one on retainer but -” 

“You never use them because you’d rather hold all your emotions right there -” You poke his chest “- until you die?” 

 The little smile appears again. “You been listening to Haley again?” 

“What, from beyond the grave? You bet. So, watch your ass, Hotchner.” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll be sure to do that.” He sobers, his eyebrows pinching in an adorable look of concern. “But really, if you want…” 

“That might be nice, actually. To talk to someone.” 

“And you know you can always come to me, right?” 

You nod. “Of course.” 

The dull hum of the plane fills the silence between you for a little while. 

“I was really scared, Hotch.” 

He resumes his listening posture, leaning on his elbow with his fingers laced together. 

“It all happened so slow - and so fast? - at the same time. I don’t know. He just… He went down and I was so afraid that he’d shot Derek or Emily I mean -” You take a breath. “I heard the gunfire behind me and the glass breaking and I just didn't want to turn around and find them dead you know?”

“Yeah,” Aaron whispers. “I know.” 

“I was so stuck that I didn’t even realize Derek was talking to me - he was right in front of me and I couldn’t see him. And then I started thinking about Boyd and all that hate and…”

You trail off, unable to continue with any degree of coherency, so you ask a question instead. 

“Is it always this hard? Does it get easier?” 

Aaron wavers for a minute. “Yes and no. It’s never ideal - you know you’ve made a mistake when you have to use lethal force, but you get more confident about making the right call in those situations as you see more of them. You’ve been with us for two years - I’m - No.” 

He stops and his brow crumples. 

“I was going to say I’m surprised you made it this far, but I’m not. I’m impressed. And proud. It took a dirty cop on an ATV -” 

“Wielding an MP-5?” You finish for him. 

“Yeah. It took that much for you to pull your trigger with any lethal intent, and even then you didn’t want to. The entire way you were talking about a de-escalation strategy - don’t think I didn’t hear you.” 

A flicker of warmth blossoms in your chest and maybe, just maybe, you feel a little better.

+++ 

tagging:  @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @s-unflowxr @imlottiie @stummdummrumstehen @hqtchner @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner

[bruhstories]

Vogel und Jäger

Summary: You accidentally witness a murder, but the murderer takes pity on you. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (mafia AU) Warnings & Content: murder, language, angst Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: i've been dying for a mafia au with zeke so here's part one of the series Vogel und Jäger. i have two more chapters drafted, and i'll try to post for this series weekly so i can write some moooore for it.

Bang!

The blood-curling sound was familiar to your ears. A gunshot — followed by the gurgling of a man.

Bang!

Another shot and the gurgling stopped. Panic settled in your heart, making you jump back and knock the metallic bin which served as a shield against the perpetrators.

Shit.

Footsteps drew closer and you began to pray. Running was futile. Running was always futile. Your throat was dry, your mascara was smeared all over your cheeks from all the tears, lips chapped and bleeding.

Our Father, who art in Heaven...

The cold muzzle of the gun pressed onto your forehead and you shivered, breath hitching, eyes glued to the wet pavement.

Hollowed be thy name...

The Mafia never spared any witnesses, you knew that all too well, even if you happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Thy Kingdom come...

"Hey, boss, we got a girl."

"Kill her."

"No, please!" You threw yourself at the feet and mercy of the armed man. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please, I'm only nineteen!" Through the sobs, your voice was still melodious, syrupy. So sweet that the boss stopped in his tracks.

Thy will be done...

Another pair of footsteps approached, tentatively, not as eager as the first person. You still haven't looked up, too scared to even blink, to even breathe.

On earth, as it is in Heaven...

"Hand me the gun, Yelena."

"As you wish, boss."

You felt someone crouch down next to you, someone dressed in expensive clothing, by the look of the trousers and polished shoes.

Give us this day our daily bread...

"You've got a very pretty voice." He lifted your chin up with the barrel of the gun, chills running down your spine.

"T-thank y-you..."

"Can you sing, little bird?"

"Y-yes."

And forgive us our trespasses...

Finally, you looked at the perpetrator — spellbinding grey eyes, platinum blonde hair slicked back and a matching goatee. His gaze was either boring or pitiful.

"Lucky you, we're hiring."

As we forgive those who trespass against us...

Anxiety coiled in your stomach, words caught up in your throat. You were still praying, unaware if this was all a sadistic joke or a miracle.

And lead us not into temptation...

Dark lashes fluttered, more tears streaming down your beautiful face as the gears in your head turned in a desperate attempt to understand what was happening.

But deliver us from evil...

"Hiring?" Your voice went up an octave when you saw the small stag pinned to the man's chest. The Jaeger family — the most feared mafia family in Paradis City.

For thine is the kingdom...

"A pretty voice like yours shouldn't go to waste." He got up and offered you his hand.

And the power, and the glory...

Reluctantly, you took it, helping yourself up and chewing your lower lip.

For ever and ever...

"T-thank you!" You told him, slender fingers squeezing his hand tightly. "I owe you m-my life."

Amen.

"Correct. Your life, your soul, your eyes and ears." He walked you to a car and opened the door for you. "Yelena, take us to the club. We've got business to discuss with my little brother."

•°.•°.•°.•°

Your eyes wandered all over the soundproof office, situated one floor above and opposite the stage. Every inch of the bar, the seating areas, everything was visible from that room. You tapped a finger on the wide window, eyes narrowed at the idea that it might, in fact, be bulletproof. These men were not playing, and you were now their property. The door opened and you jolted at the sound of music filling the office as your saviour walked in with two other people.

"This is my younger brother, Eren. You already know Yelena. I assume you know my name."

You nodded.

"Zeke Jaeger."

"Good girl." Zeke was pleased with your answer as he poured himself a glass of bourbon.

"I thought we didn't spare any witnesses." Eren shot you a look that made you regret being alive.

"Settle down, little brother. Tell us your name."

"Y/N, sir. Y/N Y/L/N." You swallowed, fingers fiddling with the hem of your blouse in an attempt to calm your nerves.

"You see, Eren, Y/N can sing." Zeke opened a drawer and pulled a gun out. More guns, more panic. Your eyes widened and your plump lips quivered when he aimed the gun at you with one hand, glass of alcohol in the other. "Sing or I paint the walls with your brains."

Your legs almost gave in at the threat — you knew it wasn't an empty one, and with all the courage you could muster, you closed your eyes and sang the first song that came to your mind, fucking Kiss from a Rose.

Your voice seemed to coat the people with honey, all three of them somewhat relaxing at the sweet sounds coming from your vocal cords.

"See, I told you she can sing." Zeke put the gun back in the drawer and closed it, swirling the bourbon in his glass before finishing it.

"Where do you live?" Eren crossed his arms, still suspicious of you.

"Historia's." You told him, eyes drifting to the ugly fur rug on the floor.

"The orphanage?"

"Yes."

"But you said you're nineteen." Zeke intervened, a brow quirked at you.

"I am. I try to help as much as possible in exchange for a bed and a roof over my head." You explained, eyeing the white couch that looked so incredibly comfortable.

"Just sit down already." Eren scoffed and you rushed to the furniture, mumbling thank you’s over and over.

"And why were you on that street tonight?" Yelena spoke for the first time since you came to the club. You looked at her and she seemed just as suspicious about you as Eren.

"I... the man you k-killed... he was... I'm-"

"A prostitute." Zeke nonchalantly interrupted you.

It was true. People like you, orphans, didn't have the privilege of being properly educated and finding well-paid jobs. Paradis was a jungle, and you did everything you could to survive. Everything.

"Well on the bright side you don't have to do that anymore." Zeke shrugged as he sunk deeper in his chair, feet on the desk, but you sensed he wasn't entirely honest. "You do have a beautiful voice, and our last girl had some... business to attend to, so you'll be taking her place."

"Is this why you called me here?" Eren sighed, leg impatiently shaking.

"Don't be stupid, of course not. I need Armin to prepare this month's tax reports and I need you to keep an eye on the police. They're sticking their nose in our business again, and I want them out of it. You two can go. Y/N, you stay." Zeke waved his hand and Eren and Yelena left, music briefly filling the office again.

You twiddled with the cushion in your lap, waiting for your new boss to say something. Being in that room was nerve-wracking, and you felt the air grow thick. Eventually Zeke took off his glasses, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

"Sir?" You dared, voice feeble and frail.

"What?" He clicked his tongue and you instantly regretted speaking.

"Sir, I'm not educated, but I've been on the streets long enough to know that every man or woman has a purpose..." You placed the cushion back. "...and a price. What's my purpose? I doubt it's only to sing."

Zeke nodded, fingers tracing the wooden desk.

"You're right, it isn't just to sing. It's to distract."

"Distract who? And from what?"

"You're asking an awful lot of questions for someone who's just witnessed a murder. You best not go to the police." He narrowed his eyes, piercing your soul. You sighed and walked to the desk, taking a seat opposite Zeke.

"It's not... my first murder." You confessed to him.

"Oh? My dear, you're full of surprises. Pray, tell. Drink?"

"Yes please." You answered, throat dry as a desert. "I can't go to the police. And even if I could, I wouldn't." The drink earned a disgusted look from you, but it was better than nothing. "Two years ago, I ended someone's life. He deserved it, he broke into Miss Historia's orphanage and tried to... to..."

"I understand." Zeke stopped you. "And if you go to the police, they'd do a background check on you." He continued, satisfied that he had a leverage in case you decided to turn against him.

"Exactly. And Historia helped me so much, I wouldn't want to put her in danger. So, I'm asking again, distract who from what?"

Zeke walked to the window, telling you to follow him. He pointed at two men, a tall blond one, and a short brunette one.

"See those two? They're policemen. They work for us, but we suspect they're double agents." He explained before pointing at three other men. "Those we suspect of being Marleyan mobsters. You see, Y/N, we have a lot of enemies. And we must keep our guard up every second of our lives."

You nodded, perfectly understanding Zeke's words. Paradis was a chess board and only the filthy rich played — the rest of you were pawns.

"Sir, you spared my life, and I know I can't ask for anything in return. But please, please don't drag Miss Historia into this. The children there did nothing wrong." Tears pooled at your eyes, rolling down your cheeks and you wiped them with the back of your hand. "I swear my loyalty to you."

"For someone uneducated, you're extremely clever." Zeke's voice was serious. You half-smiled at the compliment, but you knew the mess you got yourself into cut your lifespan severely. "Can you shoot?"

"No, sir."

"It's alright, Mikasa will teach you. Sleep on the couch tonight, I'll have Yelena bring you a blanket. Tomorrow you'll swear an oath in front of the family. And if you want to protect Historia, you'll move out of the orphanage."

You nodded. You understood that mingling with the mafia endangered everyone you loved, but you couldn't stop yourself from crying the entire night. Historia was but a few months older than you, yet she gladly took you in when she invested in that orphanage. Now you had to leave everything behind for her safety — and yours.

[thefanbasewhore]

I loved your Javier preference can you do "You're not alone, I'm here." With Javier? 💞💞

Summary: based off the prompt list I reblogged. Javier is there for the new DEA agent after her first shoot out.

This is short, I'm getting ready to go to bed but wanted to fit a little something in. Enjoy! No use of Y/N.

Warning/content: Fluffy Javier, descriptions of shooting and killing. Reader is a young agent but her and Javi kind of have a thing.

Paring: Javier Peña/Female Reader

Colombia is beautiful, absolutely breath taking between the thick green forests, clear beaches and warm weather it's almost a dream. Family from the states would often stare how jealous they are of her, saying that one should be grateful for an opportunity like this.

But it was lonely.

Let's face it, being new anywhere sucks, the agents who have been here for years had their own clique, friends bonded by time and even blood which left her an unknowing outsider. While the other fellow DEA agents were grouping at a bar trying to forget the demons of the day she found herself alone every single night.

There's something about silence that makes chills creep up the devil's neck, the over thinking it entitles and she's has plenty of time personally witnessing how soul crushing it could be. After particularly rough days, seeing things that make her skin burn she would contemplate resigning, going home to face failure but at least have company again.

Two agents in particular are the only two who would bother talking to her. Agent Murphy and Agent Peña, desks only feet away from her own but she even thinks it's out of pure pity, they're nice men but work too much. Always busy, never around when the office dies and she's faced with the predicament of going home or staying longer at the office to avoid the insecure hours of silence that were bound to come.

"Agent." The words make her snap her head up away from the paper work scattered across the desk, peering into the dark swirls of brown, they match the curling hair at the base of his neck. "You ready to go?"

"Where?" The small dimples that pop through the patches of facial hair are enough to make anyone's knees weak, but luckily she's sitting, just admiring the beautiful man in front of her.

While she did believe it was only out of pity, she might have a teeny, tiny crush on him. How could she help it? Javier was hot headed, a fool with emotions, slept with a too many woman but was compassionate, smart, brave, handsome but most of all called her Hermosa.

She has no idea what it means, her spanish is shit but the way the words roll to perfectly from his tongue, the way his dimples peak smirking after they are muttered literally makes it hard to breath. Much like now, eyebrows raised in a teasing matter, a small chuckle falls from his perfect pout as he leans against the desk. "You didn't listen to a word I said did you?"

"I, um.." Hating the way her cheeks heat up she clears her throat, acting as if there's something stuck that causing the change of color in her face. "Was reading the report.."

"We need to head out to check a tip, meet you outside in ten hermosa." Theres thosd words again, she's completely speechless only nods a validation of understanding. She can't help as her eyes run down the back of his silhouette, a pink shirt stretches over his broad shoulders dipping into the curve of his slim waist then to his jeans that curve so perfectly over his -.

Shaking her head from the thoughts she stands, pulling her jacket over shoulders to joint Javier outside.

Javier is the perfect gentleman, opening the door to the car, asking if the air conditioning setting are okay not only once but twice not wanting her to be uncomfortable. Despite only knowing the man for a few months, and crushing embarrassingly hard, she felt more comfortable in this car then she did at her own home.

It's almost impossible to stop looking at him, one hand on the wheel, the other bringing a cigarette to his pout, lips wrapping around to take a large puff. His shirt is buttoned to the middle of his chest, even though it is scarce there are a few dark hairs that poke out from it, down his lean torso to his flattening thighs due to the pressure of the seat under him. He's looks so good, it's not right, he has to be at least ten or more years older but she wants nothing more than to lean against him, touch those lips with her own, run her fingers around the fatness of his bottom lip, feel his tongue poke out to suck on them.

"See something you like?" It's a tease, smirk that not only makes her cheek ignite but chest blush with pink patches. She's been caught, silent as her mouth drops to say something but Javier beats her to it. "I'm kidding, you should have seen your face."

"You're an asshole." The words are said with harsh tone, but with a smile and an eye roll that softens it up. "I was just actually wondering how many of those things you smoke a day, I heard they were bad for you."

The playful tone of earlier is gone, it's replaced by a lingering silence, a mix of anxiety and anticipation makes her stomach flip. The wall his cold against her skin but it helps hide her from the impending danger. Her breath is trembling, chest is expanding so fast she swears she can't breath.

It all happened so fast, Javier and her doing a sweep of the building then yelling, chaos erupting in the form of unforgiving bullets. Javier and her separated but him pushing her away from the danger only to face it head on himself.

One of them chasing and following her. While anyone would believe they would act heroic in the moment, run head first like Javi at the danger she couldn't, she ran up the stairs, hid in one of the bedrooms shooting the passerbys.

But now she realizes how much of a bad idea it was, trapping herself with the man only stands a few feet from her, a sickly smile matches his words as he points the gun at her. "There you are princess."

She's immobilized, pausing as eyes squeeze together expecting searing pain but the loud sound the echos the room has blood painting her face, body falling limp at her feet. Curled up in the most ridiculous position but eyes open wide with shock as Javier stands in front of her, gun still held high despite the dead man pooling blood on her legs, his own chest heaving with adrenaline.

She can't help it, the way the tears swell up, chin quivers no matter how much she tries to hide it. Javi's eyes never leave, only lower his gun, extending his hand for she can take it.

She reaches for it but the body the separates them makes her falter. "Hey -- look up, eyes on me. It's alright."

"I'm sorry. I ran away, I left you all alone." Word are breathlessly whispered with breaks, her lungs didn't want to work crushing her chest with deep sorrow. "I've never done this before."

Hands run over her face, feeling the blood smear across it, pulling her hand away to see the redness to meet the cause again before Javi is speaking again. "Eyes on me, take my hand."

The shift from the house to the car is blurry, between the tears and the blood it was nearly impossible to see anything, all she could think about was how slimy it felt against her pant leg, how the smell was almost metallically.

Javier had started the car, taking a drag of his cigarette and squeezing the bridge of his nose with the same hand. His eyes meet her again, noticing the blank stare directed at blood stained hands, Javi reaches over taking his jacket from the back seat to try and rub the blood away but it makes it worse, staining fingers a dark pink.

"I was the same way." Guessing it was her first time seeing a dead body but truthfully it doesn't get any easier, just starts to fade into normalcy. "Let's get you home hermosa."

"No --." The words are choked, loud as eye meet his with fear. Anything but the lingering silence home entitles, it would be a punishment not a relief. "Please, I don't want to go home. I am alone, I don't want to be alone."

Javi pauses to take in her words, eyebrows expressing confusion at the out burst. The way her chin quivers with uncertainty, tears push past eye lids if it wasn't for the situation he would tell her how beautiful she looks like this but instead slowly extends his hand to cup her cheek, moving closer to feel her warmth, thumb running over the highest point of her cheeks feeling them soak with a mixture of tears and blood. "You're not alone, I'm here sweet girl."

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-Three [PT. 1]

Words: 3k

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse

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NIKKI

1987

I throw another drink back not long after yelling obscurities at Viv as she stomped out of VIP to leave and go home, between more lines of blow, a trip to the bathroom to get a fix and some drinks, we decide to take the party to Steven's new place. 

"You guys just can't be too loud, though, got it?" He says as sternly as he can as we get inside and he fumbles for his key. 

"Alright, alright, alright," I mumble, stepping inside, grabbing his bottle of Jack off the counter before getting comfortable on the floor by the window. 

We all talk--as best we can--for a little while, Steven and the boys making some calls to get some dealers here, and the only thing on my mind is getting a potent fix, until I hear something...very faint, very familiar...very, very, familiar...I furrow my brows to focus more, ignoring the guys' laughter and voices, my eyes training on the wall opposite of me. 

My subconscious puts it together before my conscious does, like smelling a blanket from a childhood home and immediately being taken back before your brain can quite grasp the feeling. 

Multiple memories shrouding that sound of Vivian that only she can really pull off. 

It doesn't take rocket science equation solving skills to put together why I'm currently hearing her soft, pretty moans carry on next door. 

I'm pretty sure more members of Guns, aside from Steven, are staying here right now. 

Apparently Stevie hears it not long after and slips into the next suite, where the sound is coming from, that's connected to his suite. 

I don't hear it anymore after he gets back in here. 

"Dealer's coming or what?" I ask Steven, my high starting to get blowed from the fact that my wife is next door on her back for someone who isn't me. 

I'd be jealous if I weren't numb to it by now.

"They're all tied up, man." Steven tells me and I groan, thinking for a second. 

An idea comes to mind that makes me want to bang my head against the wall, but I'm desperate and left with no option at this point. 

"I know a guy," I mumble, dragging myself up to the phone in the little kitchen area, reluctantly dialing a number I never wanted to dial again. 

It rings once...twice...three times… 

"Hello?" He answers and I roll my eyes. 

"'Sup man, it's Nikki." I reply, trying to put on my best "friendly" voice, even though it's making my blood boil that the bastard I could see myself killing is ultimately the one that's gonna be able to save the day. 

"Hey, dude." He replies. 

"Me and a few buddies of mine are out here at the Franklin Plaza Suites and need a few things." I rub the back of my neck. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

It's quiet, and he reluctantly breathes out. 

"I'll see what I can do." I can hear the satisfaction in his voice that I'm having to call him. 

Within the next forty minutes there's more people here than I'm comfortable with, groupies, and hangerson, and other drug adoring morons, and then my saving grace comes through the door once Steven lets him in. 

Slash is already slipping into a Jack induced stupor. Sally came in a few minutes ago screaming at all of us guys for leaving her at the Cat House. 

We didn't even realize we'd forgotten her. 

She's in the bathroom, probably keeping herself in there to keep from starting an argument with Slash in front of everyone. 

Robbin's on the phone with Laurie.

Apparently it's just in men's nature to get fucked up, call our wives, and profess our undying love for them despite the fact we cheat on them nearly every time we hangout with our friends. 

I wonder what would happen if I went in there on her and Duff right now. 

What would she say? 

Probably nothing. 

She'd just look at the floor and try not to cry, probably. 

What would I do? 

I know that I know what's going on between them, but if I actually walked in and saw them together, caught in the act…

I'd either be a pussy and cry over it, or kill them both--him first and make her watch, and then just slowly torture her or something. God, I'm fucked up. Even though I'm pretty sure being married to me is torture enough to her. 

I know it's torture to me, too. 

"Here dude," Sparkie hands me a syringe and a spoon, and I look at him, too out of focus to concentrate on getting it right. 

"Fix me." I say to him and he scoffs. 

"Okay, dude." He starts getting it ready and I look at that wall again. Staring at it, taking a sip of my drink. 

Fucking Vivian. 

Of course. Her. Of all the women I've hooked up with and dated in my life, she--the most harmless, at least in my dumbfuck mind when I first met her--is the one to screw me over like this. 

And I've let her. 

If I did what Vince does to Sharise and have that whole, "no hanging out with your boy friends without me" rule, this wouldn't even be an issue. 

That's the problem. Somewhere along the way I loosened her leash a little too much and now she's chewed her way through it entirely. 

"You look like you're in hell, you know," Sparkie tells me, fixing the tourniquet around my arm… "But that's okay, you're about to be in heaven in just a few seconds." He assures me. 

I know he's right. I just need to hang on to that. 

In just a few seconds, I'll be--

I hear Vivian, again, and I reach around my neck and grab onto her cross I've been wearing for weeks, now, squeezing it at the sting of the needle going into my skin. 

I feel him shoot me up, my mind waiting to chase and catch the high that I just know is about to come. 

My fingers slip from the crucifix, and I feel myself fall back before a weightless feeling washes over me.

Present

I keep rereading the damn paper, repeatedly, trying my hardest not to throw a fit...

Nikki Sixx and his wife, Vivian, recently confirmed that she is indeed pregnant issuing a simple and straightforward,"Yes, it's true," statement earlier this week through Nikki's manager, and--as speculated--her pregnancy is not with Nikki. Many fans and some friends of the couple are blown out of the water by this sudden turn of events, others who are familiar with the rockstar and his band but never really paid much attention to his personal relationships, are now curious as to who exactly Vivian Sixx is. Well, in an open letter, rumored to be intended for print in Rolling Stone, a few anonymous former roadies of Mötley Crüe--who partook on their Girls, Girls, Girls, tour in 1987--are here to introduce who they saw behind the scenes of flashing cameras and public sweet moments with husband Nikki. 

"This is a letter to Mötley Crüe fans, we're a mere handful of people out of the many who witnessed monstrosities behind the scenes while on tour with the Crüe since Summer of 1987, none of which were caused by the band or any members, themselves, but one woman in particular. We had no reason to really bring any of this up, but in light of recent news, we are disheartened and angered of the betrayal against one of the four men who gave us an opportunity to live several months in our lives that will forever impact us in the best way known, and provide heartwarming memories by the dozen. This is not an attack on Nikki Sixx, especially given his past struggles with opioid addiction, alcoholism, as well as his abusive wife. The first time we met Vivian, she was polite and friendly, but very assertive. It was obvious it would be her way or no way,  and often times she and Nikki would go back and forth with who was running things. It was obvious Nikki was unwell at times, whether it'd be hungover, sick from withdrawal or simply tired from a show the night before. Vivian would choose these times when he was at his most exhausted to pick fights with him. He'd tell her to go away or 'f**k off,' and she'd continue to verbally and mentally beat him down more than he clearly already was. When Rolling Stone came to interview the band shortly after the wild rumor Vanity started publicly, we were told Vivian had tried to physically attack the reporter working on the story, simply because he made the comment that Pepsi wasn't good for her. Small things like that would often set her off, leaving security, managers, and band members to try to dodge fists while pulling her off of her unsuspecting victim, who was typically Nikki. Many times we'd hear them arguing in the hotel rooms, dressing rooms, bathrooms, tour bus, etc., usually followed by sounds of what we can only describe as 'pitchy, hungry, pornstar moans' on her part--clearly using her body to get back in his good graces after wearing him down. After their fights, Nikki would always have a bottle of alcohol on hand, some kind of drug, and would keep to himself. Our comradery with him soon began to dwindle with each month because it was obvious she was beginning to suck the life out of him. He was more introverted overtime, and higher more often than he was at the beginning of the tour. It really got bad when Guns N' Roses came on tour for a month, because Vivian's attacks on him and the other members of Mötley Crüe, began to pop off as randomly and explosively as fireworks. We'd witness some foul exchange (brought on by Vivian)  between her and Nikki backstage, either verbal or physical, nearly every night. People can talk down on the Crüe for being bad boys, but they've shown everybody that's helped them on tour, gratitude. All the wives and girlfriends that would come on that we'd offer food and drinks to would always express gratitude with a smile and a warm heart, but Vivian would always stay silent and cold towards us. She's a trashy, bitchy, whiney, hateful, spiteful, conniving, plotting python that now has her cold-blooded grasp around not only Nikki's neck, but also Duff's. Her game is to find the most well rounded guys while maintaining under her guise that she's a kind, Christianly woman, and see how far she can push them until they work themselves to death, literally, with trying to please her. We aren't surprised that she's pregnant, she probably video taped herself conceiving the damn thing and sent it to Nikki. We hope she did so it can be practice  for her inevitable low-budget porn career when she runs out of rockstars to f**k and kill, as we've mentioned, she already sounds like one in the throws of passion. Anyway, Nikki, we're hoping you decide to kick her aside and start fresh. Duff, get a paternity test, dude. Crüe fans, don't let that red-headed bitch fool you."

"Who the hell is Page Six to give these bastards a platform in the first place, Doc?!" I snap.

"Nikki, I am handling it, I'm on it--"

"--You tell the L.A. Times and Rolling fucking Stone if they take this shit and run with it, too, I'm personally coming to their offices and fucking them up. Not the publications themselves, but the people trying to put this out there in print, individually." I hiss.

"Nikki, just--" 

"--And who the hell--what roadies did this?!" 

"I don't know, Nikki, but I'm trying my hardest to get it cleaned up." He assures me. 

"'She's a trashy, bitchy, whiney, hateful, spiteful, conniving, plotting python that now has her cold-blooded grasp around not only Nikki's neck, but also Duff's. Her game is to find the most well rounded guys while maintaining under her guise that she's a kind, Christianly woman, and see how far she can push them until they work themselves to death, literally, with trying to please her'?!" I read that snippet, just so he can be reminded how fucked this is, trying my hardest not to start pitching a fucking fit. 

"Fucking AJaxx isn't even cleaning this up! Press mongrels are gonna be humping these bastards legs for giving them sales for the next nine months!" I outburst. 

"Sixx, don't worry about it, alright? It won't go past this shitty Page Six story, okay?" 

"It's fucking horse shit." I ignore him, trying to keep my cool. "Fuck." I kick at the leg of the table, running a hand through my hair.

"I guess one decently positive thing is that Viv doesn't know about this," he says next and I shake my head a little, feeling a migraine starting to come on, strong. 

I was tempted then to check myself out of rehab and 'handle' it myself, but decided it wouldn't be worth it. I hoped it would go away and it would all blow over eventually.

"Vivian, don't listen to any of it, alright? Me and you and everyone on that tour know damn well it wasn't just you being a bitch and us being the innocent victims." I say through the phone as Viv tries to calm down, her breathing shaky and ragged from crying so much. 

"I know that but the fans and other people don't know that." She says to me, her voice quiet and tired. "I'm so embarrassed, Nikki." She adds. "I'm already embarrassed that everybody knows I cheated on you but now this whole thing…" she trails off and I feel guilt tug at my heart. 

I don't know what the fuck to say. 

I'm used to criticism from the press, but none of them have tore into me or any of the guys--except Vince after the Razzle accident--so personally and extensively as they're tearing at her. 

Calling me a devil worshipper and saying my music is shitty gets annoying and frustrating and even infuriating at times, but attacking my wife and calling her a low budget porn star and telling me to kick her aside? 

Fuck that. 

"I'm sorry, Viv. I really am." I assure her, honestly, closing my eyes when I hear her stifle a little sob out. "Where are you at right now?" I ask. 

"Duff wanted me to meet his family." She tells me. "I'll be back Saturday." 

I'm relieved she actually has a reason for not being here, but I'm also hurt that she didn't give me a heads up. But I don't want to talk about it right now. I think she's been punished enough today. 

"Okay...you didn't show yesterday and I was just worried." I admit. 

"I know, it was just a spur of the moment thing. He asked me last week and I didn't think it'd be an issue." 

"Oh." 

I glance around and let out a breath. 

"I, um, I'm gonna go. I got a group thing with the guys at 3:00." I tell her. 

"Okay." 

"Are you gonna be okay or do I need to break out and kick someone's ass?" I ask her, half-joking, and she laughs, making me smile. 

"I'll be okay." She tells me. 

"I'll see you next week, Sixx." 

I can practically hear the smile in her voice when she says, "see you next week." 

We hang up and I rub my lips together, taking a few deep breaths before heading to where me and the guys meet with Amber three times a week now. 

Tommy and Vince are waiting for me, and I plop down beside them, leaning forward, elbows on my knees, hands running over my face…

"Psst," Tommy nudges me and I look at him as Vince gets up to grab a cup of coffee. 

"What?" I ask him, and he puts his finger over his mouth. 

"You seen the shit they're on Vivian for?" He whispers and I furrow my brows, looking around. 

"The room is empty except us, dude, why are you--"

"--Shh," he says. 

"Why are you whispering?" I finish my sentence. 

"Because they probably have this motherfucker bugged out the ass." He replies, glancing around again. "I'm thinking of breaking outta here, man." He whispers very, very quietly. 

"You do know we're not being held here by legal obligation, right? They won't chase us down and have the cops on us if we just check ourselves out." I point out and he furrows his brows a little. 

"Oh." 

"Why do you wanna 'break out'?" I ask. 

"I miss Heather and my dogs and I wanna be able to be there Viv, dude. She fucking needs us right now and we're, like, over an hour away--disconnected from shit. I mean we wouldn't even know what the fuck was going on in the world if Doc wasn't keeping us in the loop, ya know?" 

I think about it for a second. 

"We're over a month into our three month stay, dude." I state. "We can't just throw in the towel, now." 

"I don't mean ditch it and stay gone. I just mean check out for a few days, go back home, see what all is going on and come back." He shrugs. 

It seems oddly appealing. 

Way too appealing, actually. 

"I don't know, Tommy…" I rub the back of my neck.

"I already talked to Vince about it and he's down."

"Of course he is." 

"And we wouldn't be doing it tomorrow or anything. I'm thinking next week." 

"Does Doc know?" I ask. 

"Fuck Doc." He scoffs. 

"Agreed." I nod, chuckling. 

"So, you in or not, man?" 

"Just for a few days?" 

"Just for a few days." 

"Then we're all coming back in?" 

"Like we never left to begin with." 

"No drugs, no parties, not even alcohol." 

"Just spending time with our families and then back to the grindstone." He states. 

"...I'm in."

 ...You know when you're on a shitty diet, eating boring, tasteless, "healthy" food, and then decide you've been stuck to your diet long enough that you can have one slice of cake because you're disciplined enough to control yourself? And now, two years later, you're still telling yourself you'll get back on your diet because after that slice of cake you just said, "fuck it," and never thought about forcing yourself to eat lettuce again? Let's just say leaving rehab prematurely works the same damn way.

[cutie1365]

Winchester Part 1/4

Pairing: Sherlock x Winchester!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Violence, language, blood

Request from imboredsueme, and I think their account is deactivated now :( I swear this request is from like over 3 years ago and I’m just the worst. I finally got some good inspiration for this story and I really like it so far. Not sure how many more parts there will be of this, it’s gonna be a mini series so we’ll see as I write the next few parts.

Any and all feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated :)

Masterlist in bio. Link to join taglist is at the bottom of my masterlist.

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Sherlock liked you from the moment he met you, and that didn’t happen often... maybe ever.

“Any witnesses?” Sherlock turned to Lestrade and asked as they approached the crime scene.

“Yeah one, one of my guys is talking to her now.” He lifted his finger in the direction of the woman down the road with her hands in her coat pockets. She almost looked... bored? She had just witnessed a murder, shouldn’t she look more... distraught? Emotional? He clearly didn’t know who he was dealing with.

Sherlock was accustomed to useless witnesses, none of them really noticed what’s important.

American. He noted her accent as they got closer, the officer talking to her nodded and left, flipping his notebook shut.

“We’ve just got a few more questions for you Ms. Winchester.” The Detective Inspector said, but Sherlock was too focused on her. No signs of shock, no crying, no emotions, much unlike any other female witnesses to gruesome murders he’d seen. Interesting.

“What did you see?” Sherlock asked, squinting his eyes to examine her.

“This guy,” you pointed to one of the white cloth covered bodies as you spoke, “shot this guy in the face, then blew his brains out. Seems pretty open and shut to me.” You shrugged.

“So it would seem...” Sherlock turned to Lestrade with an annoyed look as if to say why the hell was I brought in then?

“That is, unless you take into account the sniper from two buildings over.” You pointed over your shoulder.

“What?” Both Sherlock and Lestrade turned back to you, surprise evident in their voice.

“Sure, this guy was pointing a gun at him, but it was as if the shot came from behind him, it scared him. When the other guy dropped, he panicked and stuck the gun in his mouth... seems odd.” You spoke calmly.

“Why do you believe it’s a sniper?” Sherlock asked suspiciously.

“I’ll let you analyze the entrance wound and ballistics report, but I guarantee that that bullet didn’t come from this man’s gun.” You said, confidently.

Sherlock strutted over to the body, not wanting to believe you on your word alone. He pulled the sheet back and sure enough the entrance wound was higher on the forehead near the hairline, with the exit wound down near the base of his head where it meets his neck. A man standing a few feet in front of him wouldn’t be able to get that kind of angle. He silently moved towards the other body, and slipping a glove on his hand, picked up the gun lying on the ground. He opened the revolver, and to his surprise, only one bullet was missing. It would have taken two, one to shoot the man and one for himself. Lestrade watched him intently, waiting for him to speak. He looked up at you, he couldn’t read you... you were different, useful.

“She’s right.” Sherlock muttered, and Lestrade’s eyes went wide.

He moved to stand in front of you, he looked taller than on TV where you’d seen him in the news.

“Winchester, was it?” He asked.

“Y/N.” You smirked, placing your hand in front of you for him to shake, which he did.

“Come with me.” He said, beginning to walk down the street, and you followed him.

You followed him that day, and you’d do it again, everyday. You’d follow him into hell itself and do it with a smile.

He took you along on one case, and that was all it took. He liked having you around, you were insightful and helpful, not to mention unphased in the face of death. One case enough for him to realize you were going to be trouble. Good trouble or bad trouble, of that he wasn’t sure yet, but the thought of you always brought a smirk to his lips.

The more time Sherlock spent around you, the more it became clear: you had secrets. He liked that, he couldn’t read everything about you. He was quite sure he’d never met a woman like you before, and likely never would again. Someone who challenged him intellectually, made him laugh (a rare sight, admittedly), and made him feel alive.

They say your past has a way of coming back to bite you in the ass... and your past had fangs. Literally.

Sometimes all it takes is one second, one tiny moment to bring you back to where you were, to what you’d thought you left behind. You can’t go home, but maybe home can come to you.

You didn’t realize it until it was too late... but everything you’d come to hold dear was going to be tested and threatened like never before.

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

It seemed like a simple case, a simple stabbing, it should have been cut and dry but something was bugging both of you about it. Something was off.

The murder weapon wasn’t recovered, and it wasn’t just a simple knife. Truthfully neither of you knew what the man was stabbed with, and it was going to drive you crazy.

You and Sherlock sat in his bedroom, well... based on the amount of time you spent in it, you could almost call it ‘your’ bedroom. Sherlock paced in front of you as you sat with your back against the headboard, the pictures of the crime scene spread on the bed before you.

“Arrow?” Sherlock suggested.

“Mm, too thin.” You glanced at the picture, shaking your head.

“Harpoon?” You tilted your head, eyes dancing across the pictures.

“Cut’s too clean for that.” He shook his head.

You’d been at this for hours now, naming every pointy, knife-like object you could think of to find the murder weapon. The wound was so odd. It was almost squared on the front entrance wound, but thin and a quarter of the diameter on the back where it had run him through.

“We need a fresh perspective on this.” You said, running your fingers through your hair, quickly pulling it up into a messy bun as you moved to get off the bed, “You go check out his girlfriend’s place again, and I’ll go check the bookshop he worked at, there’s gotta be something we’re missing.”

Sherlock tossed you your coat as he slipped his own on and you both made your way out of the flat, going in opposite directions.

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

The bookstore was only a couple blocks away from Baker Street, so you were there in no time. You decided to look around the shop for a few minutes before approaching the manager. You flitted through the different sections of the store, the same shelves the recently departed victim would pass each day.

You stopped as your eyes caught something in the Science Fiction section - Supernatural by Carver Edlund. You picked it up with a smirk, of course they’d made it international, you shook your head.

“Can I help you find something?” The manager comes around the corner and asks you with a smile.

“Oh, no,” You smiled, placing the book back on the shelf, “I’m actually here to ask you a few questions about Ben Whitman.”

Her face turned into a sort of sad smile.

“Of course, how can I help?” She said somberly.

As you interviewed the manager your eye caught something outside the window. Her back is to the front door, as the manager goes on about Ben’s punctuality you see two large men move like they were going to come into the store. They caught you talking to the manager and suddenly diverted course around the side of the building.

“Has anyone ever come in looking for Ben, or asked about him?” You pulled your attention back to the manager.

“Not before you lot.” She smiled.

You thanked the manager for her time and helpful information, although she didn’t give you anything you didn’t already know. As you left the store, you turned down the same side alley you’d seen the men disappear in. You heard voices coming from all the way back behind the bookshop.

You peaked your head around the corner, seeing the two men standing, talking to each other. You knew something felt wrong about them, but weren’t sure what it was until you saw their eyes turn black.

Your breath caught in your throat, that was the last thing you expected to see today. You thought you had successfully stayed out of sight until your foot shifted on the gravel as you tried to take a step back.

Immediately, their eyes went back to normal as they whipped their heads in your direction.

“What are you looking at?” The shorter one asked aggressively, they both stepped toward you. You stepped away from the wall, there was no point hiding now, they knew you were there.

Suddenly, everything clicked, and you were overcome with a wave of confidence.

“I don’t think Crowley would be pleased to hear about a couple of demons going rogue. You killed the bookstore clerk with a stolen angel blade didn’t you.” You spoke bravely, although in hindsight, it might have been stupidity and not bravery that guided your actions.

“Who the hell are you?” The taller one asked, with venom in his voice.

“Oh Lucifer, you’re that little Winchester bitch aren’t you,” His mouth morphed into a sadistic smile as they realized, “You’re far from home.”

“No big brothers here to fight your battles.” The other pulled out an angel blade as they began to stalk towards you.

“Fuck.” You muttered, putting your fists up as they attacked you.

You fought back, but took a few hits. You were able to disarm the one with the blade. You were pretty sure you broke his arm when he came towards you. Unfortunately you hadn’t realized the blade had sliced your side as you took a hit to the face from the other demon. Running on pure adrenaline, your fist rammed into his face, blood coming from his nose. The demon with the broken arm muttered something you couldn’t hear to his partner, before they both left their vessels. Your ears were still ringing as you felt the blood begin to drip from your brow bone.

You knew you couldn’t make it all the way back to your flat like this to get cleaned up. You held your side to slow the bleeding. Baker Street was just around the corner. You could use the back streets to get to Sherlock’s flat and not scare too many bystanders on the street.

You knew Sherlock wouldn’t be in, he’d gone to investigate the girlfriends house with John and that was on the other side of London.

The adrenaline began to wear off as you hobbled up the stairs of 221B, thanking god Mrs. Hudson hadn’t greeted you at the door. You hurried into the bathroom and began pulling out the alcohol and suture kit from the cabinet.

You cleaned the wound on your brow quickly before slapping a butterfly bandage over it for the time being. As you looked at yourself in the mirror you saw the dried blood on your face; and the bruises were already littering your arms and abdomen when you slipped off your shirt.

You sat on the edge of the tub as you began to clean the laceration on your side. You started to stitch it up, holding some extra gauze in your mouth. You were so focused on what you were doing you didn’t hear the door opening.

“What the hell Y/N.” Sherlock’s voice made you jump and drop the gauze from your mouth.

“Um, o this. This is nothing.” You tried to smile, but he wasn’t having it.

“Y/N! This is not nothing. John!” He called out through the door into the flat.

John came around the corner and his eyes went wide as they landed on you. He quickly took the suture kit from you and helped to stitch up the remaining open laceration. You hissed slightly as he poured alcohol over it once more before covering the wound with sterile bandages.

The three of you sat in silence, Sherlock no doubt running a million scenarios in his mind, as you concentrated on not passing out. When John finished, you stood in front of the mirror, wiping the rest of the dried blood off of your face before slipping your shirt back on and turning towards the two men who hadn’t said a word.

“So I guess I have a little explaining to do.” You admitted.

“You think?” Sherlock retorted in a protective tone.

You sighed as you made your way into the living room, the two men in tow.

“You might want to sit down.” You motioned towards the couch, you know what you had to do. You’d kept your past a secret for as long as you could, but now it was time to come clean. Now it meant life or death.

Sherlock and John hesitantly sat before you on the couch as you stood in front of the coffee table.

“I solved the case.” You said after a moment, unsure of where to begin.

“You solved the case?” Sherlock asked slowly, in disbelief.

“I know who killed Ben and with what, but I don’t know why.” You admitted.

“Well who did it?” Sherlock asked, impatiently, still not believing you.

“Um so, the problem is we’re not going to be able to find them.” You danced around the real answer, knowing what their reaction would be.

“Why not?” John asked, with furrowed brows.

“Because they’re never going to look the same, one day to the next.” You tried to explain without sounding crazy, but you knew that wasn’t really an option anymore.

“Care to elaborate?” Sherlock raised a brow.

“They’ll be in different bodies.” You spoke quickly, knowing how it sounded.

“John did you check her for a head injury?” Sherlock turned to John and asked, completely ignoring what you were saying.

“Yeah you’re probably concussed.” John nodded.

“I’m not concussed,” You yelled, but thinking back to the beating you took today it was likely, “Ok, maybe I am but that doesn’t mean I’m not telling the truth.”

“They’ll be in different bodies? That doesn’t make any sense Y/N.” Sherlock shook his head, not entertaining these fantasies.

“I know, I’m trying to word this in a way that doesn’t freak you out. The murder was done with a special kind of blade, it’s about this long with a wide almost square blade that comes to a point.” You moved your hands as you tried to describe the angel blade.

“That would match the autopsy report.” John nodded to Sherlock, as if to say maybe she’s not all that crazy.

“Ok, there’s no delicate way to put this,” you clapped your hands together, knowing there was no point delaying the inevitable anymore, “They were demons.”

Sherlock immediately laughed and stood up.

“Why don’t you go lay down Y/N, you’re obviously not feeling well.” Sherlock moved towards you with a patronizing tone.

“I’m not done. Sit down,” You ordered, seriously, “There were two demons, I saw them and they recognized me, so they’ll be back.”

“Why would these “demons” recognize you?” Sherlock asked with air quotes, clearly not taking you seriously.

“Because it’s like my family business. My brothers and I hunted things like this, but I got out of that life.” You shook your head, desperately trying to make them understand.

“And when you say ‘things’?” John asked slowly.

“Ghosts, demons, wendigos, shape shifters, vampires, werewolves.” You listed off quickly, shrugging.

“We might need to order an MRI.” Sherlock turned to John and spoke as if you weren’t there.

“Sherlock would you shut up for five minutes? I know you don’t believe me. And I know you won’t until you see it for yourself but I’m being serious here. Ok? Lives are at risk. There’s two rogue demons running around London and this can’t be the first murder they’ve committed. And now that they know I’m here, there’ll be more.” You spoke so seriously that Sherlock stayed quiet. He didn’t believe you, but he believed that you believed what you were saying was true. Did he still want you to be psychologically checked out? Yes. But for the time being he kept his mouth shut.

“So what do we do?” John asked.

“We call in the big guns.”

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Please let me know what you think! And since I’m still writing the next few parts let me know if there’s anything in particular you’d like to see happen :)

Taglist in reblog.

[sery-chan-13]

Doll

Part 11 of '100 Promises'

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Warnings: swearing, harassment, weapon mentions, mentions of sex(again, it's mentioned, not explicitly written) I think that's it, let me know if I missed any!

"Hey, um... my professor asked me to help him after school. I'll be home late tonight," you said. His faced scrunched up in disgust, and he was glad you couldn't see him due to the two of you being on call. "Which professor?" He questioned, knowing you'd been having trouble with one of your professors making you uncomfortable. "My... um... my law professor," you stammered. There was something off about the way your voice sounded. Worried and nervous. Like a little mouse. You were never one to act like that unless you were really scared. And that was the professor you'd been having trouble with, so he wasn't surprised. He scowled at the thought. Your law teacher was constantly touching you, or making you uncomfortable, seeing as you were one of three girls in his class. But it was always you. "Say you want to get pizza for dinner if you want me to come get you right now," he stated, being smart enough to know what you were going to say. He was already walking to the door, getting his shoes and jacket on. "Yeah, pizza sounds great," you said. He could hear how nervous you were. There were occasional sounds of footsteps or a man whispering in the background, and it was pissing him off. "Ok, I'll be there as fast as I can," he said. You said your goodbyes, and at that point he was already out the door.

He burst into the classroom, seeing you pushed onto the desk, your teacher pinning you to it, as you explicitly told him to stay away. The teacher turned to face him. " 'R-ragi!" You shouted, pushing him off of you, jumping off the desk, and running into Niragi. He wrapped his arms protectively around you, hiding your face in his chest, glaring at the professor. "Ah, I'm assuming you're the infamous Niragi she mentions so often?" He questioned. The man didn't falter, he acted as if nothing happened, which made sense. He knew how to use court tactics to change the view to his. "Yeah. I guess I am. Something came up, sorry to interrupt, but she needs to come with me," Niragi said harshly. The lie was believable enough. He didn't say what happened, just a vague idea. Even if the professor could see through the lie, Niragi didn't care.

"Oh? Then let me take her bac-"

"I have a car, I can drive, she's coming with me. Goodnight."

Niragi, quickly lead you out of the school, and arm tightly around your shoulders. Once you got to his car, he let you get in first. He walked around the car, getting in the driver's seat. You sat, shaking in your seat. "You ok?" He asked. You shook your head. "So... operation J, or operation C?" He asked, turning on the car. "Operation H," you whispered. "Shit, it's that bad? Well.. yeah it's that bad, sorry i- I I'm not thinking correctly right now, I'm sorry... Ok, you talk to me about it, and tomorrow we can file a report yeah?" He said, keeping his eyes on the road. "Uh uh... no report," you said quietly, turning up the radio. He turned it back down. "Why? If I hadn't gotten there sooner who knows what would have happened to you. And it's been happening in other ways throughout the school day. People like that... people like that don't deserve anything," he stated, drumming his hands on the steering wheel to calm himself, and stopping from turning back around and hitting the professor. Gods how he wanted to in the minute he was there. He knew why you didn't want to file a report, however. It was the law professor. Not only could he make a compelling argument, and gaslight everyone, he was higher up in importance to the school as well.  "L-lets just leave it... it's not that important anyways. It could've happened to any other girl... just sucks it was me."

___________________

You sighed, stretching and getting up from the chair. There had been a two hour meeting today, and you had to go. It had been about two weeks since you first got to the beach, and things were going rather well. You'd built a reputation for yourself, being equally as dangerous as Niragi, with wit and intelligence to match up to even Chishiya. Most people were very impressed by you, as well as feared you. Diamond games were your specialty. So far, you hadn't had to play a hearts game. Everyone else told you that you should be grateful, but you were bored of always playing the same things. Spades, Diamonds, Clubs. When were you finally going to get to feel the fear and excitement of playing a hearts game? You were excited to show off how you could use your background in psychology in heart games.

"Last Boss? Can we do something or hang out? 'M bored," you whined, pouting at the man. He shut the book he was reading, and looked up at you. "Don't you have Niragi?" He questioned. "Well, yeah... but he's busy. And I've hung out with him plenty. Wanna hang out with you," you said. He sighed, nodding his head

Niragi didn't know what to do. It was obvious people feared you, but they also knew you were his weakness. They would definitely use that against him. He just had to keep you safe. He continued walking around on his patrol, catching a glimpse of white. That triggered his fight or fight reflexes. Sure, others had fight or flight, but when it came to Chishiya, Niragi felt only pure rage towards the man.

"She's quite amazing, don't you think?" Chishiya asked. God how he hated the taunting tone of voice Chishiya always used when he spoke to him. And he also knew the she Chishiya was talking about was you. "Yeah. What's your game?" He questioned. "Oh absolutely no game. I just... want to see your reaction when I take her from you. Obviously, she's told me all about those promises you two made... but you seem to have forgotten a few, no?" Chishiya taunted. Had he forgotten any? No, of course not. He remembered all 99 of them just as you did. They were stupid things you used to do when you were kids, but since it made you both feel safer or better, you kept them. Not only that, but it kept a routine for you two. It also gave you the security that he couldn't hurt you like others in your life did. He stayed silent. "Hm, that's what I thought. You like her, don't you? I'll take her from you just to piss you off. She's interesting, and I don't think I'd get bored.... but you never know. I think I'll have fun playing with her," Chishiya said. Was he serious? Or was he just looking for a reaction from Niragi? "Don't you fucking dare play with her feelings just because. I'll kill you before you get the fucking chance," Niragi threatened, his grip on his gun getting tighter. "It's what she wants. And from what I've gotten out of her... I think she'll be easy," Chishiya stated. Niragi scowled at his words. He'd dealt with so many of your asshole exs, douchebags that tried to get in your pants, teachers who didn't know limits, and everything in between. Chishiya was a new breed of annoying and fuckboy, and it pissed him off. "Stay away from her, talk to her, be friends with her. I don't give a fuck. But do not hurt her. I'm serious about that Chishiya. Don't you fucking dare," Niragi threatened. Chishiya only laughed, shaking his head. "I do whatever I want. Whoever I want, for that matter. It just so happens (Y/N) is in my eyesight. I think Last Boss also has an interest in her," Chishiya said back. "Better him than you," Niragi stated, starting to walk off.

"Oh, by the way... (Y/N)'s not as innocent as you think," Chishiya mentioned, sticking his hands in his pockets, looking out to the lobby. "What do you mean by that?" Niragi questioned, glaring at the blonde man. "I think you know full well what I mean. It's so easy to get emotionally vulnerable girls to trust you," Chishiya smirked. "You little fucker!" Niragi exclaimed. Usually, it would be the other way around, where Niragi found some girl who was sad enough about being in the borderlands, and then they would go back to his hotel room with him. But it angered him that Chishiya did that to you. "What? Not so fun when it happens to a girl you know, hm?" Chishiya questioned. Niragi glared at him, knowing he wasn't allowed to shoot him right this second. His finger kept lightly pressing on the trigger, and he bit his tongue. "Don't fucking hurt her. Don't you fucking dare," Niragi said finally, walking away.

"Sugu... I um... I..." you stuttered, twiddling with your hands. He turned away from his desk. "What's up?" He asked. "I... N-nevermind," you said, going to leave. He stood up, grabbing your arm. "Tell me. 'S ok," he said with a smile. "No, no, it's fine, I'll just... um talk with your mom for a bit, I'm-" you stammered. "My mom is out. What's up?" He asked, leading you over to his bed. You took a big breath in. "Idontwannalosemyvcardtoaguywhodoesntcareaboutmecanyoutakeit?" You jumbled out. He stared at you weirdly as he couldn't understand your words.

"Do you need some lady things? I have some chocolate in my snack drawer if y-" he started. "No... no, it's embarrassing..." you muttered. "You know I'm willing to talk about or do anything with you," he smiled. "I-i said... I don't wanna lose my v-card to a guy who doesn't care about me... C-can... can you t-take it?" You whispered, your face red. He felt his face get hot. "I-i-i-i -i-" he stammered, looking at you. You averted your eyes to the floor.

"I-if you don't w-want to, it's OK I-i just i-i-"

"I-I'll do it."

You looked up at him in shock. "Really?" You asked. "Yeah. Yeah, I... don't have mine anymore... but I-i can help you... if you want," he explained. You were both blushing, and he was still holding arm. "When do... do you-"

"Suguru, (Y/N), I'm back!" You heard his mother shout up the stairs. You heard her walk up the stairs. She knocked on the door, opening it. "Is she staying for dinner? Because your father and I decided to go out for the night. We'll be back in the morning,  so I'm going to get ready, and there's money downstairs for pizza," she said. You both looked at each other nodding. "As always-"

"We know mom... we know."

How convenient for both of you.

"S-suguru... w-what do I do?" You stuttered, sitting on your knees on a bean bag chair. You two had gone up to a tree house you two had built in the woods behind his house. "Depends on what you feel comfortable with. Just... go with it I guess," he said, trying to make sure you were ok. "You lead... you've done this before, haven't you?" You asked. He nodded, and you grabbed his hand tightly. " 'M scared," you whispered. "We don't have to do anything. It's ok," he said. You hugged him tightly, and shook your head. "I-i wanna... it's just... what if it gets weird between us?" You asked. "We've been friends for over 4 years... I don't plan on leaving you," he whispered. "Best friends," you corrected. "Yeah, best friends," he repeated. "I want to do this though... only if you want to," you said. "Tell me where I can touch you for now, and if at any point you want or need to stop, tell me,ok?" He said, rubbing circles into your back.

___________________

He was angry at the fact Chishiya had taken advantage of you. Especially when he knew how hard you tried to keep people out of your walls. But would he believe that Chishiya, being Chishiya, had weaseled his way in. Would you belive him if he told you? No, probably not... but you might? What was he thinking, of course you'd believe him over someone you'd just met two weeks ago. Now to find you was the problem. The beach wasn't huge, but large enough for you to be hiding somewhere if the first few days you were here said anything. "Now to go find her... wherever she is," he muttered to himself.

"Ok, ok, here's my question to you. Is Last Boss your actual name, or is it a nickname?" You asked. "And why should I tell you that," he said, leaning his head back on the wall. "Because it's the rules," you answered, poking his shoulder. "Nickname," he stated. You nodded, and before Last Boss could ask you a question back, he got interrupted by Chishiya.

"Hey. Am I interrupting something?" Chishiya asked, standing in front of you. He gave you a small smile. "Oh... um... kinda?" You responded. Last Boss nodded besides you, knowing full well Chishiya was planning something. "Oh well, when you're finished with your game of... 50 questions... come to my hotel room?" He asked, looking at you. You hated that you couldn't read his eyes. All you got out of him was amusement, judgemental looks to others, and looks of lust. But no more than that.

"Oh, yeah, after I'm done her-"

"You can go ahead. My patrol starts in... right now, actually."

Walking back to Chishiya's room made you a bit nervous this time. Last time, you definitely remembered what happened. You still hadn't told Niragi, and you usually told him everything.

Niragi could only imagine where you were. Last Boss was on a patrol, and Chishiya was- That's where he had to check. Around Chishiya's room. "That sneaky little bastard."

You were walking besides Chishiya, trying to find some emotion on his face, but couldn't. "Ah, Chishiya um wha-" you didn't get to finish your sentence as he pinned you to the wall. You slid down slowly in embarrassment. He crouched down in front of you, tilting your head up with his fingers. "Good girl," he praised, studying your face. You blushed at his praise, not understanding what it was for. He brought his face close to your own, and you could feel his breath on your lips. "Such a flustered, pretty girl," he cooed. You felt so small under his gaze, and you tried to look away. "Ah ah ah, no. Look at me," he teased, making you look back at him. "You're so good at following orders... good girl," he praised once more. "Ch-chishiya, I... I, um... we should... we should head back to your room, we shouldn't-" you started, tripping over your words. "Hm? What? You don't want people to know what a submissive little-"

"Oi, I suggest you step the fuck away from her."

You looked up at the person, seeing it was Niragi. "She's busy," Chishiya stated with a board tone. "Yeah, busy my ass. (Y/N), get over here. Now," Niragi ordered. You flinched at his tone. He sounded like your dad. "I don't think she wants to. Isn't that right, pretty girl?" He questioned, looking at you. You couldn't speak, it was a very hard situation for you. "(Y/N), come on. Get away from him now," Niragi said, pointing his gun at Chishiya. You shuddered, closing your eyes. "Aw, you're scaring her. You don't want to scare my little doll, now do you?" Chishiya taunted. You tried blocking both of them out as it was back and forth.

"S-sugu... stop it."

Hellooooo! So sorry I haven't updated this in a while, I've been on vacation on Arizona (still am) and I've barely had time to write but I hope you enjoyed!

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Don’t Breathe | 3.0

»Genre: hitman!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of potential Stockholm syndrome, mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is pure fiction ok, kidnappers and stalkers DON’T love you.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was told to get rid of everyone who witnessed the conversation between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month ago, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3.0 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt.4.5

A/n: it’s literally been a long a** while, but it’s here💙 ps will edit later probably

“Okay, ma’am, can you explain to me how you found out she was missing one more time? I just want to verify that the report is consistent with what you told us previously.”

“Sure,” Suzy squirmed in her seat, feeling squeamish due to the busy police station. “I went to her apartment to check on her because her upcoming article was missing and she never forgets to log in her articles. She wasn’t answering my calls or texts, I got worried. When I knocked on her door, I didn’t get an answer, but that’s when I saw that the door was unlocked. I walked inside and everything looked normal but she wasn’t there, and her necklace was on the floor,”

Her mouth goes dry the more she recalls the emptiness of your home, the sheer horror she felt when she saw your most prized possession on the ground.

“She never goes anywhere without that necklace.”

“Alright ma’am, have you seen or heard from her on any social media in the last 24 hours?”

“No, I haven’t…”

She smiled. “Okay. Our officers will do everything they can to find her, alright? So don’t worry too much, she might’ve left her phone off or something, things like that happen all the time.” The woman laughed a bit, nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t talking about a human being who could be scared for her life. 

“Alright, thank you…”

She left the station, heart heavy. And she couldn’t figure out why, but something about the woman’s words made her feel worse.

You woke up really early, around 4 or 5 in the morning, and you were trying so hard to quietly try to open the window but it was bolted shut. You tried the door, but even that was locked from the outside. After an hour or so, you gave up and went to sleep.

But you’re up now, and you’re trying to escape, again. 

You screamed at the top of your lungs but you know you weren’t heard by a soul. He had cuffed you again while you were asleep and it was extra tight, you felt like your wrists were being crushed. You were furious. You were mad at that monster, the restraints, and the stupid bed he left you on. You started to think, how will I be able to escape? What did I do wrong? Is this really the life I have to live now?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a wobbling doorknob and you freeze, watching it open slowly. It’s him of course.

“Why are you screaming?” He looks annoyed and you curl into the corner, brows furrowed. 

“Why do you think?” You spat, yanking against the cuff instinctively as you have the strongest urge to scratch him.

“Listen,” He approaches the bed and you lean into the corner as he takes a seat on the edge, “I’m being very generous. I’ve given you food, left you in very humane living conditions...Do you want to go down to the basement like an animal? Is that what you want?”

“I want you to let me go.” 

“Well, that’s not gonna happen,” He stands to his feet and stares down at you, making you feel ten times smaller than you already did. 

“We need to talk about some things. I have someone coming over, someone who wanted you dead and thinks you’re dead. So, if you want to stay alive, you need to listen. I’m going to put you in my room and you’re gonna stay there until he leaves.”

“Who- Who wants me dead?...” You stutter.

“My boss, he gave me the job. If he finds out I took a hostage in instead of selling you to him or killing you, he won’t be happy.” He takes in a breath and looks you over, your wrists are all bruised up. “Are you going to cooperate and walk to the room or do I have to drag you?”

“Take these ropes off my hands and you’ll find out.”

He shrugs. “Ok.” 

You’re taken aback when he kneels on the bed and waits for you to turn your back towards him. Cautiously, you turn your back to him and he starts to loosen your binds. When you feel that your hands are free, you turn to sit on your butt and rub your wrists. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it...” It’s only now that you realize that he’s staring at you, and you make the mistake of meeting his gaze. His eyes are surprisingly soft and you hadn’t noticed it before, they’re captivating and you force yourself to look away.

“Come on, he’ll be here soon.” With that, he walks out of the room, assuming that you’ll follow him, you don’t.

He looks at you, waiting for you to realize that you’re being unnecessarily difficult. When you see the slight move towards you, you decide to get up and follow him. He takes you down the hall and after a few turns, he walks into a large bedroom, one that’s well kept and fresh-smelling. Once you’re both inside, he closes the door.

“If you get hungry, there’s a mini-fridge in the closet,”  He points to the closet, “If he finds out you’re here, we’ll both be in trouble.” With that, he closes the door—funny how he doesn’t lock its door, assuming you won’t try to leave.

This isn’t the best idea, having the person who thinks you’re dead in the house with you. But there was no way he could say no to Minho, that’s his boss and it would look odd if he canceled. While waiting for his guest, he orders some food. He placed the order at his regular take out place and went to the kitchen to wait.

What am I doing? This is the most reckless decision he’s ever made. In an attempt to reason with himself, he blamed his change of heart on the fact that he met you—he should have never run into you. The rules are simple, don’t make contact with the target, don’t get attached, don’t watch them for too long or you will get attached. He did all of that, and now he’s finding out why those rules were made in the first place. 

He hears a knock on the door and pushes those thoughts away.

When he lets his boss inside, any thoughts he had of you vanished and he became the person his boss knows him as. Emotionless, calm. 

“I wanted to talk to you about your last job,” Minho takes a seat in his living room, in his usual seat in near the window—he always said the view was priceless and to let him know if he were ever willing to sell, “I heard from an informant at the police station that she was reported as missing, do you know anything about that,” He takes a sip of the tea Tae always gives him.

“No, I don’t,” He deadpans, taking a seat and turning the music down with a low command to the speaker, “the girl is gone.”

“They found a necklace at the scene, the woman who went to check on her, I think it was her boss or something, said she doesn’t go anywhere without it,” Minho relaxes, exhaling in thought, “it’s getting a little messy.”

“That comes with the job sometimes,” the doorbell rings and Tae is thankful for the speedy delivery, the growing tense air was beginning to suffocate him. After putting the portion he bought for you in the fridge, he brings the food to the living room.

“But she’s not a high-profile target, she’s a writer,” Yet, people are worried about your disappearance.

After a few minutes of sitting on his massive bed, you choose to disregard his instructions and crack the door to try to listen to what they were saying. Gosh, the food smelled good.

“What did you do with her?”

“You know I don’t like to tell, but she’s taken care of,” Taehyung opened up his food, “this will blow over eventually.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Not much I can do about that,” 

Minho laughs, wondering why some useless girl would be the issue they have to face with a case as sensitive as this one. “You should have sold her to me, I’d make good use of her. And teach her a lesson on minding her own business, if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t have had to go back to the job. She was your first female and your youngest target yet, I went through your headcount file.”

“Yeah, she was around my age,” 

“She was cute too, would’ve done well at House Lucia’s,” That dreaded place, “but I know you don’t like that place but it’s better than the other options.” Minho pulls a letter out of his suit and sits it on the coffee table.

“That’s your next job, Park’s gonna join you.”

Taehyung cringed, anyone but Park.

“Why Park?” He opens up the envelope and examines the case.

“He’s skilled with squeezing information out of people. Besides, it’s not an eliminate the target case. Go to the Gala, Park will handle the mistresses and you find the guy. Do you accept it? It’s a 75k payout.”

“Yeah, when is it?”

“Tonight,” Minho gets up, “he’ll be here tonight. Attire is formal and he’ll have your invitations. I enjoyed lunch, as always,” Tae walks him to the door and his boss goes to the backseat of the car that came for him.

“Same here,” He bids him goodbye and closes the door he breathing a sigh of relief.

“You can come out, I know you’re listening.”

Shoot.

You creep out of the hallway and stand at the banister, looking down at him. 

“I bought you some food, you can eat it in my room,” He walks to the kitchen to get it out of the fridge and when he walks upstairs, you’re already back in his room. 

You eye him as he enters the room, glancing at you when he sits the food on the end of the bed. He kneels down and suddenly he’s cuffing your ankles together, you frown, not responding fast enough to move

“Why are you-”

“I’m gonna let you stay in here while I work on some things, I don’t want you to run.” He stands to his feet and you sit on his bed, you wondered, how could he have known that you planned to run from him.

 “I’m bringing you back to the basement tonight, so enjoy this while it lasts.” 

It’s a Styrofoam plate, harmless enough. You hesitantly lift the lid to see white rice and other little sides, it looks good but you don’t want to eat it, not while he’s in here.

“How could I enjoy this? You have me chained up, how could anyone enjoy this...” You mumble. 

“Eat.” 

That’s all he says before sitting at his desk and turning on his desk top, ignoring you.

Eventually, you decided that you weren’t going to miss out on getting food. If you’re going back to the basement, there’s no telling if he’ll forget you again. 

So you eat, but you do it spitefully.

He scrolls through the hundreds of file his target database with the letter G until he finds the mans name. Gorka, Ulysses. The man is a big-time statesmen, he has his hands in a lot of underground stuff and it seems like the ex-wife did too, she’s the one who paid for job. He scoffs, the man probably has no idea she’s hiring people to end his entire empire—this is one of the interesting parts of his job, the research.

“Um,” You clear your throat and he looks back at you from writing something in his notebook, “I have to use the restroom...”

“Go ahead,” Pointing to his bathroom, he turns back and continues his writing.

You take small steps towards the his bathroom and you close the door behind you, locking it.

Even though he’s fine with the job, he’s never liked working with partners, disturbs his process a little bit. But he’s fine with being flexible, looks good on his resume.

When you finish washing your hands, you slowly open the bathroom door to see him looking through a drawer under his bed. It’s hard to see what he picked up, but you look a little harder and realize that it’s some of your clothes. You shudder, thinking of how he acquired your belongings when he took you from your house.

He looks back at you when you walk further into the room, your awkward search for somewhere to sit catching his attention.

“You’re in a better situation than you would have been,” He turns to you, hair dangling over his piercing eyes, “you’re lucky...”

You frown, unsure of where he’s going with that. How could you be lucky? Right before your big article, you get kidnapped and forced to live with your kidnapper. “Are you serious?...” You couldn’t believe what he just said. “How am I lucky?” 

No response. 

“Hey, did you hear me?” You raise your voice, standing to your feet. “This isn’t luck!”

Calmly, he eyes you.

“I want to go to the basement, put me in there.” Your request catches him off guard but he shrugs, turning back around as if you didn’t even say anything. “Fine, I’ll go myself...”

You try to walk to the door anyway, your shuffling not letting you leave as quick as you wanted to. Before you can even make it halfway, he’s closing the door with a slam and locking it. 

“Get on the bed.” His eyes lock on yours like a predator to prey—you have goosebumps.

“But I just want to go back to the basement, I won’t run.” You’re frozen where you stand, trying to determine his temperament. “Just leave me down there-”

“What did I just say?” His tone firms as he slowly approaches you.

“But- But you’re gonna put me down there anyway- Ah!” You gasp when you’re shoved back first onto the bed, holding you down by your arms as he kneels one knee between your legs. Eyes wide and heart-pounding, you whine, words not leaving your mouth.

“Do you know how lucky you are that you’re here? Had you been assigned to someone else, do you have any idea where you’d be right now,” He leans down, limiting the proximity between your faces but you turn your face to the side, trying to push your face into the comforter below you, “you’re a target, you’re not being treated like a target and you need to realize that. Stop acting out.” 

He let’s go of one of your arms in favor of turning your face to him. “Look at me.” 

“No, no-” Tears stream down your face and your nose glows red, your sinuses responding to your weeping. You use your now free arm to try to push his chest, he shakes his head at your poor attempt. 

He let’s go of your arm so he can snatch both your wrists and holds them to your abdomen with one hand. 

“You’re gonna stay in this room until I take you downstairs. If you act like this when I try to grant you some freedom, I’ll give you something to cry about.” Your breathing is shaky and you sniffle, eyes watery and wide. He wipes a tear from your eye with his knuckle and lets you go, walking back to his chair as if he didn’t just threaten your life.

Still in shock, you curl up on the bed and do the only thing you can do—you cry. He’s not phased by your fit at all, he continues to finish his work as your whimpers accompany his soft piano music on his Bluetooth speaker. 

This is really happening. 

Normally, you’d scold yourself for feeling sorry for yourself. You’d tell yourself that there are people who are suffering far more than you are—that you shouldn’t complain, you’re lucky. But you’ve never felt more unlucky, you’ve never felt more alone.

After a good two hours, he notices that your cries aren’t heard anymore and he looks at the bed, you had cried yourself to sleep. Poor thing, he thinks to himself. It’s about time for him to get ready to go, so you finally get your wish to return to the basement. He picks you up and walks you down the stairs, your out cold the whole walk. 

He hopes you’ll find it more comfortable, he made you a fluffy safe haven on the corner of the large space. While you slept, he set up the plushy floor cushion that he ordered last night so you wouldn’t have to sleep on a padding-less mat. It was pretty expensive but he didn’t mind the price, it actually complimented the basement nicely. Laying you on the cushion, he un-cuffs your ankles. Instead of the small ones, he uses a long-chained cuff attached to the steel on the wall behind the cushion and hooks it to your wrist.

He covers you up with a fluffy blanket, caressing the side of your face when you snuggle against the cover, sighing in comfort.

Admittedly, he wishes you’d look that comfortable with him one day, sigh in his arms. In time, he hopes you’ll be able to realize that everything he’s doing is to spare your life.

He slips his gloves off, tossing them in the bin outside the lavish room in the wide-open halls of the mansion. After adjusting his suit jacket, he looks down at his watch, it’s getting late. 

The party is still going on downstairs and now that the dirty work is done, he needs to find Park Jimin. A short walk past the many bedrooms and just when he thinks he should go look downstairs, he hears a giggling female. That means Jimin isn’t far. He approaches what looks like a powder room.

When he slowly opens the door he immediately turns his head, rolling his eyes, such class.

He takes out his phone and calls him, hoping that’ll get him to hurry up. With that, he takes a walk to the stairs and not long after, Jimin is fumbling out of the room, hair disheveled.

Our little secret, remember? Taehyung nearly throws up when he hears him say that to the woman who’s at least ten years older than him. He looks back at his temporary partner, watching as he zips his fly with the utmost class if that were possible.

“Hey, I got a little sidetrack, but I have what I need,” He walks beside him, a red glow on his cheeks, “you?”

“Of course.” Tae shrugs, “We should head out.”

“Already?” Jimin scoffs. “You’re no fun, Kim.” 

Shaking his head, the two of them leave the party swiftly, Jimin’s Lambo growling in the night as Taehyung sits restless, he left you too long. He wonders if Jimin can pick up on his eagerness to get home, he’s sure it’s not that detectable. These jobs were never his thing, alcohol, too many people, too many distractions. 

When Jimin drops him off but asks to come in so he can use the restroom.

“Down the hall, to your right.” Taehyung points, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it on the couch. For the life of him, he hopes you don’t start screaming, the last thing he needs is for Jimin to find out that you’re here.

It's painstakingly long few minutes before he breathes in relief, Jimin is walking down the hall, wiping his hands.

“It was a pleasure Taehyung, as always,” He leaves out of the front door with a wave.

Locking the door with the app on his phone, he waits for a few minutes. Just long enough to know Jimin had pulled out of the hallway and is halfway down the road.

Quickly, he goes to the kitchen to get you a snack and some water. He puts it on a plate and goes to the basement door, he presses his ear against the door to see if he could hear you moving around. Sniffling, he hears your sniffling and his heart drops a little bit.

He opens the door, the sound of his footsteps prompts you to wipe your face, he doesn’t get to see me cry again, that’s what you told yourself. You stare at him as he walks down the stairs, he’s wearing a dress shirt and dress pants. The dark blue silk shirt is rolled up to his elbows and a little unbuttoned, you assume he went somewhere fancy.

“Are you hungry?”

You shake your head no, not looking him the eyes.

“Well, I’ll leave it, just in case you change your mind,” He sits it on the cushion right beside you. For a moment, he stares at you for a bit longer than what most would deem comfortable.

“I bought this for you,” He’s referring to the cushion he so kindly chained you to, “hopefully you’ll sleep better.” Still refusing to give him eye contact, you bite at your lip anxiously, why won’t he just leave you alone?

He lightly touches your hand and you flinch away, a panicked glint in your eyes as you press yourself to the back of the cushion to be as far from his as possible. He backs away from you, a little confused. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” He furrows his brows, eyes landing on your wrists, still bruised from your previous attempts to get away, “You need something on those bruises, I have a salve that’ll help,” He stands from his kneeling position.

“I’ll be back,” With that, he retreats upstairs.

As soon as the door closes, you wait a few seconds but eventually, you reach for the water and take a small sip. For all you know, he could have put something in the water, but you choose not to care.

It’s not long before he’s open the door, skipping down the stairs in sweats and a t-shirt, the salve in his hands, and what looks like cloth bandage.

“You drank some water, that’s good,” He’s scarily observant. Naturally, as if he had done it a thousand times, he reaches for your arm but you don’t shy away. What he had said to you early today comes to your mind so you decide not to give him any reason to fulfill the threats. 

Sitting on the cushion beside you, he brings one of your wrists to his lap. You watch him gather some of the salves on his fingers before gently applying it to your skin. He does the same thing to the one hand he has chained and then wraps them in the soft cloth, careful not to make it to tight. When he closes up the jar, you bring your hands to yourself and you look at him, his face illuminated by the dim lights.

“I’ve never done this before,” He speaks suddenly, “I don’t know if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t...” You mutter, staring down at the metal circle on your wrist. 

“I don’t expect you to trust me, but everything I’ve done, it’s not what you think.” He turns to you, causing you to look away once again. “You’re a good person, it’s nothing you did.”

“Then let me leave,” You swallow, “I- I promise, I won’t tell anyone, just let me go home, my family will be devastated when if they find out. I heard that guy you were talking to, someone reported me as a missing person, that means someone is looking for me... ”

He sighs. “I can’t.”

“Why not? You don’t seem like a bad person. If something in you is telling you to let me go, why don’t you listen to it?” You quietly plead, hoping your desperate tone affected him in some way.

“If they find out that I let you go, if my boss finds out that you’re still alive-...I can’t let that happen, you know too much, he’ll kill you.”

“The article is destroyed, so the guy who wanted it gone has nothing to worry about, I don’t understand why I even matter...”

“You just do. You can’t bargain with me about this. If there was a way for me to let you free without anything bad happening to me or you, I’d do it, but there’s not...” He pushes his hair back, brows furrowed in what seems to be distress.

He sighs, “I’ve never been assigned someone so young, you’re so close to my age. And I probably could’ve completed the job, but when I met you, and I looked in your eyes...” His words trail off and he stands up. “I couldn’t do it.”

“I feel like I’m being punished...” You look away, hands finicky, “I don’t feel like I’m being saved or protected, do you have any idea how afraid I am of you? You’re a stranger who’s saying all the things that I don’t know anything about, and you’re keeping me locked up in a basement. What you’re doing to me, it’s wrong...”

He suddenly gets on his knees and kneels in front of you, taking your hands into his despite your efforts to pull away.

“I hope you’ll understand that this is the only way like I said...You might eventually learn to like me, but you don’t have to,” He looks up at you, his doe eyes looking incredibly sincere, very different from how you’ve been seeing him, “and I won’t make you.”

You bite your bottom lip, “I don’t want to be here...” 

Suddenly, he reaches a hand up and cups the back of your head. “it’ll be okay,” The size of his hand is now brought to your realization when his finger grazes your ear. He presses his forehead to yours and your eyes squeeze shut a the contact. When you feel your nose almost touch his, you instinctively jerk back and your hand responds on its own accord.

The sound of skin bluntly meeting skin is heard and you’re cowering back, immediately regretting your innate response. He lifts his hand to his now reddened cheek, he didn’t expect it to hurt so bad—you’re stronger than you look.

“Don’t- I just- Were you trying to kiss me?...” You stammer, a frown on your face. When you don’t fully elaborate, you settle on your own conclusion that he knows what you’re trying to say. He looks up at you finally, now standing tall above you. 

He grabs your wrist, tugging you forward. It hurts a little but you stay silent, “This is why I like you, Y/n, that fiery spirit,” He suddenly drops your hand, seeming as if he decided not to physically respond. His response leaves you speechless, it’s not what you expected, “keep it up, you’re tempting me...”

With that, he leaves the basement and flicks off the light. “Goodnight,”

After staring at the door for a good minute, you decide it’s safe enough for you to lay down. You’re not sure how to feel about him right now. But for some reason, fear and apprehension aren’t as intense as before. And you might be wrong, but he sounded like he was convicted about doing all of this to you. Maybe he was just trying to make you feel like you could trust him, it’s hard to tell. But if there’s one thing for sure, something in your gut tells you that he’s not bad, he’s not the monster that you thought he was...

“She’s missing, her supervisor called me, said I was on her old emergency contact list,” He holds his phone between his shoulder and ear, not in a million years did he think he’d be calling his ex-girlfriend's mother with information like this, “don’t worry too much, I’ll try to get in contact with her.” 

It’s been a few weeks since you two have talked, so when Suzy called him, his heart just dropped. Even after your break-up, almost a year ago, you two considered yourselves friends. The two years you shared together were great. You were thriving in your career, he finishing Med-school so he could begin his residency. Many nights were spent with you staying late at the office, or him pressing for finals—your lives just weren’t merging. That’s when you both decided you were better off as friends. But you still have platonic love for each other

“Dr. Kim, I switched shifts with Katelyn,” Sara, the new medical assistant at the clinic peeked on through the open office door, ”I’ll make sure she gets those messages,”

He nods, getting his keys so he can head out too. When he leaves, getting his car, he decides to shoot you a text, hoping you might respond.

Jin: Hey love, I know it’s been awhile, hope you’re doing okay. I got a call from your supervisor this morning, apparently I was still on your emergency contact list at work. She said she went to your house and you were’t there. She waited 24 hours and you still hadn’t shown up to work , contacted anybody. She went to the police station, reported you as missing. If you’re okay, please contact me or anyone, I’m a little worried

Taehyung lies in his bed, not bothering to slide under the sheets, his skin is warm to-touch. His cheek still stings, the feeling brings the image of your face to his mind, and he feels remorse. Never in all his years alone, did he think he’d long for someone's company, someone's gaze meeting his. This penthouse has always been a bit lonely, all this money and space, it can’t take the form of a person. A companion. 

He feels guilty. He doesn’t have the right to think of your face, your eyes, your gentle hands that can inflict such pain, your spirit, what right does he have to grow so fond of those things. He’s never kidnapped anyone, especially not someone he was supposed to have killed months ago. But he did it to you, to the one he missed, in the words of his boss. The guild’s warnings prove to have been true all along. Don’t keep a target as a hostage, don’t get attached—it’s happening. He’s starting to want to get to know you, to get you to smile for him, at least once—it’s damn selfish, he hates himself for it.

When he hears a buzz coming from the drawer of his nightstand. He sits up, confused for a moment until he opens it up, realizing he had put your phone in there. He picks up the phone and presses on the message. He reads the message, eyes narrowing at the endearing term he used. Curious, he unlocks your phones and goes through your text vigorously, searching for what he hoped wasn’t there. As he goes to your past old messages from months ago, he sees I love yous, I miss yous, dinner at 7 my place? Then the texts become less frequent, the tender tone is no more and there’s apologizing on both ends. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this guy is your ex, now he’s on the list of people who are worried about you. 

He drops your phone back in the drawer. There’s no way anyone could find you yet, he’s nervous. This is getting too close, and at this point, he shouldn’t, but he wants you closer.

[oneirataxxiaa]

Give Us A Little Love

Request from Anon : Oof i pressed ask before i could end it. Here we go again:"Do you trust me?" "Always" "Look,a shooting star! Make a wish." "Take my hand." "Are you...blushing?" with YJ Kaldur.

Im so sorry for the wait Anon, I had some things I had to deal with. Made it long for you to make up for it! I’ve been listening to the song ‘ Give Us A Little Love ‘ by Fallulah so I kinda based the Y/N off that? used this as bit of a vent piece, Idk. Missed a prompt cause i couldn’t fit it in. Enjoy! *opens writing angst playlist*

warnings: serious angst. mentions of suicide, swearing, neglect, trust issues?

“Give us a little love, give us a little love . We never had enough, we never had enough”

***

Trouble seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

Never able to settle down, each time she felt as though she had found herself a forever home, Y/n L/n experienced something that would send her foster parents running to send her away. The daughter of an unnamed member of the League of Assassins and a civilian, the child who dealt with horrors no one should have to witness at an age such as that, Y/n learned early on to trust no one, do what's best for herself to stay alive another day.

Y/n was raised by her mother's guild until she was old enough to fight, being subjected to the terrors dealt by the League of Assassins, her childhood was disrupted. She developed little social skills beyond basic polite greetings and formal conversations. She understood the human body, not for science exams, but to know what the fastest way to kill a person was. She could fight her way out of any battle, but place her in a social situation and she would shut down. Unable to think for herself.

Y/n was fourteen when she was put into foster care, after Talia Al Gaul became pregnant with a son and there was a new heir to the league. Tossed away like a bag of trash, her mother didn't stand up for her, and her father wouldn't care for her. Pushed into the system and forgotten.

"What happened now?" Mrs Davis asked her husband. She looked tired, resting her head on her hand, her eyes half closed. Her husband of ten years shook his head.

"She punched someone, one of the upperclassmen bumped into her and she reacted by sending them across the hallway" the man was in his early forties, tired from work and stressed from the current situation.

"God, what are we going to do with her Luke? We can't home-school her, and she refuses to see a therapist! we've tried punishing her, rewarding good behaviour, doing nothing! I don't know what to do anymore" the woman sounded desperate. Her and her husband thought a good idea would be to take in a seventeen year old trouble child through fostering. Over the three months they had her, nothing quelled her radical behaviour.

Luke Davies sighed. Exhaling and rubbing a hand over his eyes with frustration. "There's nothing we can do" he paused, hating the idea that crossed his mind. "we'll have to put her back into the system. Our health and life is important as well, so, we have to take care of that" his wife nodded, looking down at her hands, tears of guilt pricking in the corners of her brown eyes, becoming heavy.

"I'll call Ruth in the morning then".

Beyond the kitchen, Y/n sat with her back against the wall, a scowl on her face as tears threatened to spill. 'emotions betray us, control them' her mothers voice rang in her ears, a memory of toddlers and nightmares and staying awake hoping and praying the monsters from the green pool wouldn't come for her. Y/n sniffed, her tears drying as she willed them to do. The teen hiked her bag further up her shoulder and took a breath, walking past the entrance to the kitchen and out the front door, ignoring the yells of her foster parents, Y/n started into a run, disappearing into the streets as dusk set in.

She didn't know when she ended up a the waters edge, but it was plenty after dark. The sun long gone and her foster parents left far behind. Y/n walked along the boardwalk, feet kicking at pebbles on the ground, sending them skipping across the concrete. Giving herself an idea, she picked up the pebbles as she walked, placing each small stone into the pocket of her jacket until she had quite the collection growing there. Further down the coast she could see a peir, stretching out over the water. That was her destination.

Voices were heard to her left, making the girl turn to see a couple whispering to each other, on dragging the other - who was laughing - towards the closed fairground further down. Y/n frowned at the freedom the two seemed to think they had, too distracted by each other to care about consequences of their actions. That was dangerous, a thrill that many couples took the chance on as far as she knew. As far as she knew, having no experience in that department anyway. The couple vanished from sight and their laughter faded into the night like a memory. 

The concrete ground turned to wood, and the crunching of stones turned to occasional creaks and groans from the old wooden plants supporting the jetty. Y/n walked the length of it, reaching the end and standing still. The girl enjoyed the smell of sea salt, the crashing ambience of the waves and calls of birds gliding over the water. The moonlight seemed only to amplify the wild beauty of the ocean, making her want to stay there forever. Y/n picked a stone from her pocket, flicking it out with her wrist, it didn't even skip. Simply crashing into the water with a dissatisfying plop. The teen tried again, angling it further down and still failing to achieve the skip she wanted.

"you should bend your whole body, it helps get the right angle" Y/n jumped back, pulling a pocket knife from her jeans and flicking the blade out. Her eyes were narrowed at the person who snuck up on her out of nowhere. "its alright, I'm not planning on hurting you" raising his hands in a calming motion. Y/n didn't move. "if I was planning to, I would have done it when you didn't know I was here don't you think?" he reasoned, motioning for her to put down the weapon. A minute passed of the boy eyeing the weapon, then looking her up and down. Any movement either made sent the other into a split second panic. Seconds ticked by, and slowly, Y/n lowered the knife, tucking it back into her pocket. The boy let out a breath and walked a little closer. Now that he was out of the shadow of the buildings on the shore, Y/n could see his features clearly. A strange suit with two handles strapped on his back. Dark skin, glossy from the salt water, blonde hair in a close shaved buzz-cut, and pale turquoise eyes that looked darker in the night air.

"can i ask what you're doing out here on your own, throwing rocks into the water?" he walks closer, eventually standing beside her.

"you may not ask" she replies, taking another rock in her hand, pausing and considering the boys first words to her. Y/n bent sideways at the waist, bending her knees and swinging her arm, being sure to flick her wrist. With the added momentum and angle, the rock bounced three times of the surface of the water before sinking on the forth landing and vanishing under the waves. Content with the one victory, Y/n dug out the rest of the rocks in her pocket, holding out her full hand and dropping them into the water with a series of splashes. She watched the fall.

"A waste of rocks if you ask me" The boy said, now leaning against one of the support poles.

"I didn't"

"didn't what?"

"ask you, I didn't ask you" Y/n clarified, sitting down on the wood, watching the waves like a mesmerising swirl of hypnotising spirals, pulling her deeper in. It felt dark in her mind, dark and scary. She felt her own emotions smothering her, suffocating her and clawing to get out.

A tear fell.

Almost instantly, the boy was by her side, sitting on the wood beside her, legs hanging over the edge in the cold water. He didn't say anything, but every action he made clarified the idea that he would listen.

Y/n opened her mouth, throwing words into the wind, venting frustration, anger and confusion, her words a spiral of fear and unfamiliarity. She felt afraid, afraid she would get a proper family. It was her fault, her behaviour and actions drove these kind people away. But she could help it, couldn't stop herself from doing things that made foster parents scared to have her around them. She couldn’t control herself some times, lashing out in fear and anger to those around her. People were scared of her, avoiding her in the hallways, refusing to work with her for projects. It hurt, to be isolated, but she knew it was her fault. She closed her mouth, halting her words and looking down at the water, tears falling freely now, though there were few. She didn’t know why she was speaking to him, telling him everything that had happened. She didn’t want to 

“you’re allowed to react how you have been, nobody should expect you to stay quiet through everything that happened” The boy said, crossing his legs underneath himself. Y/n stayed silent, looking out at the water. “do you feel better? letting everything out?” 

She nodded, raising to her feet, Y/n kicked her foot against the ground, frowning.

“Uh- thank you-”

“Kaldur” he said.

“Thank you Kaldur” she nodded, sticking her hands in her pockets and turning on her heel to head back towards the Davis’ house. Leaving the strange boy behind her.

***

It shouldn’t have surprised her that her foster parents had called to return her. She found herself sitting in the police station, being picked up by a cop car when the Davis’ reported her as a runaway. Sitting with her head rolled back on the chair, her legs kicked out in front of her and her hands behind her head, Her mind was slow, running over scenarios in her head of what would happen to her. Would she be thrown back into the system? Would they put her out on her own? She would be eighteen in a month. Would they just throw her out on her own, to deal with what lay ahead with nowhere to turn?

 Y/n looked conflicted, alone and confused. Which is what interested one of the training detectives. He was young, around eighteen or nineteen, but his connections helped jump start his dream career.

“What are you in for?” He asked. Y/n looked up. This one had dark hair and blue eyes with a spark in them that made her wonder what was going on in his head. He looked like he was planning something, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out exactly what it was going on in his head.

“Running away apparently” she shrugged, sitting up and crossing one leg over the other in a more comfortable position. Dick frowned, sitting himself in the chair across from her and leaning his arms on his knees. He didn’t wear a uniform like most of the officers in the station, having on a blue shirt, black cotton jacket and jeans. He looked almost casual, at home in the station among officers much older them himself. But something told Y/n he was smarter then he looked.

“Why’d you run away?”

“Why should I tell you?” Suspicion rose on her voice. Dick sighed and shrugged his shoulders. 

“I’ve done the same stuff, when I first moved in with my adopted dad I ran away three times in the first week” that made Y/n laugh a little, shaking her head with amusement. 

“In one week?”

“yep, was probably my best achievement at that point in my life” he grinned, “I was thirteen as well”

“Good on you” the girl nodded, picking at the corner of her shirt, pulling a thread out and watching the fabric bunch up.

“Yeah, then I settled into the house, and well, thats that I guess”. He trailed off, making Y/n frown and look down.

“Its not that easy” 

“Its not, not when you don’t try” He looked like he was trying to help, but he was just pushing her further out of her comfort zone.

“I did try!” Y/n exclaimed. “I tried so hard to be a good kid, I can’t help it . . .” her outburst faded quickly and Dick got to his feet. 

“I’m going to make a quick call, i’ll be back, I promise” his smile was infectious, and Y/n returned it, looking at the floor again as she ran a hand over her face and then rested her arms on her knees, an uncomfortable position, but she didn’t seem to care about it in the moment. Time passed, and Y/n seemed to be ignored by officers who walked past. The occasional person would send a smile her way but ultimately, she felt like she was on an island, in the middle of the sea of people who were judging her for being there.

“Alright, you’re all set!” Dick appeared out of nowhere, phone and keys in hand. His sudden appearance made Y/n start in surprise, looking at him with wide eyes for a second before calming down and settling again.

“What?” Y/n asked, confused, getting to her feet and following the boy as he gestured for her to follow him. They walked from the office, out into the hallway and towards the lobby room, filled with various civilians and criminals being brought in for holding.

“I, being myself, made a call to my dad, we’ve got this big house in Gotham City, and there’s heaps of room for someone to stay, even with Tim living there and Barbara dropping in from time to time” Y/n didn’t recognise any of the names he dropped, but things were starting to click in her mind. “I’m Dick Grayson by the way” and that was when it all came together in her mind. 

“You’re Bruce Wayne's son!” The girl stopped walking, eyes wide in surprise. She wasn’t sure how she didn’t see it before, the man looked just like the pictures of Bruce and his kids that she had seen on the news online. He was usually pictured with Bruce, and a shorter boy with dark hair. Seeing her reaction to it, Dick took a breath and rolled his eyes. As if he had to deal with such reactions on the daily - which was probably the actual case.

“Yep, now come on, or do you want to stay here moping all day?” the boy grinned and walked out of the building. Y/n looked back at the officers, milling around the station, nothing interesting catching her eyes. Taking a breath and holding it for a moment, Y/n followed him out the door as she let said breath out. 

The car park was fairly empty, considering how early in the morning it was, and that most people had just walked there to avoid traffic considering the station was central in the city of Bludhaven. Dick lead her towards a car parked on the far side. Y/n wasn’t an expert on cars, but she could tell that this was expensive - far more then she could afford - and certainly in the price range of a billionaires son.

“Can I ask where we are going?” Y/n questioned when he opened the door for her. He nodded, closing the door behind her and walking around to the drivers side of the vehicle. Closing his own door and pushing the keys into the ignition, he replied.

“I called Bruce, as I said, he’s finalising some paperwork to foster you - so we are heading to the manor in Gotham! Not too long of a drive”. Y/n stared at the dashboard in front of her with wide eyes, processing what was happening. A few hours before, she was sobbing and venting everything to some random boy on the pier, and now she was moving in with a billionaire. It was a startling change, the suddenness of it started crashing down on her. “Do you have anything you want to pick up from your old place?” Dick asked, turning the wheel to get them out onto the road, following the signs towards Gotham City.

“No” was her simple reply, tucking up her legs, Y/n positioned herself to look out the window, watching the city flash by, a swirl of bright lights and dark corners and alleys. 

***

“Are you sure you’re ready to work with everyone?” Dick asked, tapping on the zeta panel, his stance was casual enough, but his eyes kept glancing towards Y/n checking up on her to make sure she was alright. Something he’d been doing since she’d moved into Wayne manor all those months ago. Y/n herself however felt nervousness curling in the base of her stomach, clutching at her chest and making her feel a little sick. Not like she was going to throw up, but it certainly wasn’t helping to steady her nerves. The girl looked towards him when he spoke, shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine Dick, I already know most of the Team anyways, i’ve known Kaldur longer then i’ve known you” Dick shook his head with a small laugh leaving his lips. A beep emitted from the panel, and their location was locked in.

“Alright, first official team mission here we come then!”

“what are you going on about, you’ve been on missions before”

“that’s not what I- you know what, no, i’m not letting you have this win” he grinned, securing his mask and walking up to the platform, Y/n following him.

“sore loser?” she asked, matching his grin and standing beside her adopted brother.

“says you” was his quick reply before they were swallowed by the bright yellow light of the zeta tube. It was always strange to travel this way, stretched across a far distance only to be snapped back into place where they had set their destination. This mixed with the feeling of unease that already settled within her system made her clutch her stomach as they reappeared in the zeta entrance to the cave the mission room sprawling out in front of them, various heroes spread out, chatting amongst themselves as if there wasn’t a serious mission about to occur. Heads raised when her and her brothers names were announced by the computer, most turned back to their conversations, but one stayed up, looking towards them, and eventually walking in their direction. Y/n heard him before she saw him.

“Nightwing said you’d be joining us” Kaldur smiled as a greeting, “Are you alright? you look like you’re going to be sick” the smile turned to a neutral expression of concern, something that seemed to appear a lot when Y/n was around. He always had an eye out on her, to make sure she was alright, make sure she was feeling her best. Y/n smiled softly.

“I’m fine, just a lot of people that I haven’t met” she replied. When Y/n first encountered the Team, she had just started vigilante work with Nightwing, and was only  introduced to Artemis, Wally and Zatanna, and reintroduced to Kaldur. It was awkward for a few weeks before the two fell into a comfortable friendship. Still confiding in each other with troubles and fears, but their relationship with each other was more stable then the random meetups on the pier. They became close, usually found together when they both had free time. Y/n could confidently say that he was one of her closest friends, alongside Nightwing and Zatanna. 

His expression changed, from concern to understanding, the smile returning. 

“you’ll be alright, its not a big mission, just some surveillance” his words helped her a little, the nerves calming down. He rested a hand on her shoulder as perhaps some kind of reassuring act, but it sent a strange feeling through her mind. 

“yeah, alright” she swallowed, looking forwards, and hoping beyond hope that the burning feeling rising to her cheeks and ears was covered by her domino mask. Unfortunately, luck didn’t seem to be on her side at that moment.

“Y/n, are you . . . blushing?” Kaldur asked, drawing her attention back to him, instead of hyper fixating on making the blush fade.

“No” she replied, glad that her training with Nightwing and Batman left her with a good control over her voice and expressions - the blush was something she had little to no control over unfortunately. She continued however, the question throwing her into a defensive reply. “Its not your business anyways”. That made her cringe at her own words and guilt crawled in her. Kaldur seemed to let out a breath, dropping his hand from her shoulders and stepping back a little.Y/n frowned at the movement. Had she offended him? Was what she said - lying - wrong? Y/n looked at the ground, fiddling now with the corner of her suits belt, her hands moving with nervous energy. Nightwing announced the mission details, explaining what each squad would be doing. He would be keeping an eye on everything from the cave, but Y/n herself was on a lookout team with Kaldur and Zatanna. Once the group split up into the teams and started heading out, Zatanna approached Y/n, smiling.

“Where’s Kaldur? I assumed he’d be with you” she looked confused, around as if Kaldur would be hiding.

“I’m not sure, he left a little while ago” Y/n turned, and Kaldur was indeed gone from where he had been standing. Zatanna lit up when she spotted him by the Zeta Tube. 

“There he is, come on Y/h/n” Zatanna walked towards him, the other female following quickly behind. They were silent when travelling to their location. Even Zatanna seemed to see there was some sort of strange tension between the two heroes, though not sure where it had sprouted from. As far as Zatanna understood, the two were close friends. After arriving at the location, Kaldur spoke to Zatanna quietly for a moment, the girl nodded and Kaldur walked towards Y/n, holding his hand out. 

“take my hand, please?” he asked, making Y/n frown as she couldn’t decern the tone of voice he was using. So, she took his hand and he pulled her off to the side, out of the earshot of Zatanna, who took over the job of keeping an eye out for what they were looking for.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, sitting her down on the ground and sitting across from her.

“Always” Y/n replied, quicker then she would have liked. Kaldur nodded.

“Then why don’t you tell me whats wrong? You’ve been cold lately, colder then usual, and I want to make sure you are alright, and if there is anything that I can do to help you” Y/n looked down, scratching her arm nervously. She mustn’t have been as subtle as she would have liked then. Kaldur sat up a little straighter. “I don’t mind you taking your time, but I would like to know if I can help you in any way”

“I like you” she replied. Cringing at her bluntness. He was definitely sitting up straighter now. “And I don’t know how to deal with it - and i’m sorry if I've been rude to you, or anything like that” she paused. “I’m just not sure what to do, and I don’t think i’m ready for anything serious, but i’d like to see where it goes and-” Y/n paused to take a breath. Thats when Kaldur interjected.

“Y/n, slow down a little bit please, you don’t need to explain anything to me” he smiled. 

“I’m sorry”

“don’t be, you don’t need to apologise for experiencing hardships, you take your time and take steps at your own pace, and i’ll be right there beside you when you need me” He got to his feet, offering his hand to help her up.

“Sorry- uh, thank you Kaldur” she smiled, and he returned the expression.

“If you guys are done? We’ve got some movement down there” Zatanna called to them from where she was set, watching over the empty cortyard.

“We should probably get back to work” Y/n laughed nervously.

“Probably” Kaldur replied, the two walking towards Zatanna. 

Some relationships aren’t sudden. They require communication between both parties, settling on what best fits them. And Y/n? She just needed time. So Kaldur would wait until she was ready.

***

THIS TOOK 10000 YEARS . HERE YOU GO

onto DCACB chapter 3

requests are open! tag list : @silverdecepticon93 @izzieg3987​   @starr60​

[estoniacobaltpayne]

Judgement Day

Chapter 3: Temptation

Summary: Desperate, a force user bargains for her freedom; if she acquires the ‘asset’ deemed top priority, she would be free from the life that has enslaved her. Years of training has prepared her, but she’s stubborn and unlucky and more often than not she’s biting off more than she can chew. Maybe pulling the long con is the only path to freedom, but if it is, there’s a Mandalorian blocking it.

Warnings: language, sexual themes

Parirings: Din Djarin X Reader

Prologue: Here!

Chapter 1: Here!

Chapter 2: Here!

The air filling the cockpit of the ship is somehow both hotter than Arvala-7, and stuffier than Sorgan. The only sounds were the faint beeping from the dashboard, and the child’s playful cooing. Ragna sat in the copilot’s seat behind Mando’s left, and mulled over why she would bother to save him from the AT-ST walker back on Sorgan. What was the point? She just hindered her own damn plan! What the fuck is wrong with me? She thought hopelessly to herself.

Mando, in the pilot’s chair, was mulling over similar thoughts, and was just as confused. If Ragna was plotting against him, why would she bother saving him when she could have just as easily let him die? He wanted so badly to ask her why she helped him; to talk about the last few weeks and the child and her father and everything in between. He had to, really. He was going to. Yeah, he was going to.

“(Y/N)-“

But that’s as far as he got, because all of a sudden, another ship jumped out of hyperspace behind them and immediately got to work on shooting them down. Mando was quick to engage and fight back, but the abruptness of the engaging fighter caused all three of the them to be lurched from their seats. As Mando warded off the aggressor, Ragna leaped up to strap the child into the other copilot’s seat. She could hear an incoming message claiming that Mando’s insubordination to the Bounty Hunter’s Guild was to soon be his demise, but she paid little attention. The two hunters continued to converse, and after Ragna strapped in the child, she turned to help Mando. As much as she wanted to see him dead, if she didn’t help him take this other bounty hunter out, they’d both be nothing more than a waste of and in space. And then where would she be? She did her best to hold their opponent still using her abilities, but he was a slippery little bastard.

“I have an idea,” Mando declared. “I’m going to break. When I do, he’ll jut in front of us. You hold him still, and I’ll shoot. Brace yourself.”

And he did just that. (Y/N) braced herself on the dashboard, but the force of the manoeuvre was so strong, it threw her back onto the Mandalorian’s lap; she had no time to pay it any mind, because all conscious thought went into using the force to hold the other bounty hunter’s ship still. Once she knew their attacker had been terminated though, she began lamenting the fact that it was a random bounty hunter that was vaporised out of existence and not her.

Because being strewn across this man’s lap was bad enough, but looking up and meeting his visor’s gaze was worse. Instinctively, he had wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, and his legs had been spread further apart to make more room for her form. The two were unable to look away from each other- all reasonable thought had been thrown out the window, and they were stuck in time, once again. It wasn’t until the warning sirens blared out in panicked shrills that they pulled out of their trance. (Y/N) quickly stood up and moved back to the vacant copilot’s seat.

Not another word was said until they reached Tatooine.

Mando landed and exchanged quick words with the owner of the hanger before making to exit, off to find work. Ragna rushed out of the ship.

“Shouldn’t I come with you? You might need my help?” Ragna stated, realising that the Tatooinian dunes would be the perfect place to leave a Mandalorian corpse.

If that’s even what I want now. She was quick to push that thought aside.  

“No, stay here and make sure nothing happens to the child,” came the Mandalorian’s response.

She tried not to let her face drop in earnest annoyance. “Yeah, I suppose that’s my job anyways!” she responded, trying to appear lighthearted.

Well, she could make that work too, she supposed. As soon as the ship was stable enough to fly, she’d take the child and leave. It didn’t matter if the bounty hunter was left dead or alive after his excursion. She’d be gone, ship controls in one hand, and child in the other.

Gods, please let this work this round, she thought. She was starting to get the feeling that if she didn’t end this soon, she’d never gain her freedom from the Empire. Or worse- she wouldn’t want to gain it if it meant bringing harm to the Mandalorian and the child. Whatever happens to the Mandalorian and the child is not my damn problem! she kept reassuring herself. But the repeated mantra was quickly beginning to lose its effect.

——

Mando had found that his guard was slipping throughout this whole ordeal in bringing in Fennec Shand. Catching her shouldn’t have been so hard, and he knew for damned sure he shouldn’t have entrusted Toro Calican with jack shit. And yet here he was, moping on the back of a damned dewback. But it wasn’t even that which contributed the most to his mood.

It was (Y/N).

The sight of her strewn across his lap had been nearly too much. It had been a while since he’d been able to… take care of himself in any way, and an even longer time since he’d been able to do so with someone he cared about in any capacity. He tried to reason with himself that he didn’t hold a single iota of deeper feelings for (Y/N), but he was beginning to realise that he couldn’t keep pushing these feelings back, no matter how terribly they were conflicting with the logic that he usually kept on autopilot. And, oh, was the ingrained image of her looking up at him from his lap interfering with that autopilot. She was becoming a problem.

More than anything, she perplexed Mando to no end. She had had several chances to slip behind his back and betray him in any number of ways, and yet, she hadn’t. But then why had both Cara and Omera been unable to trust her? Sure she had been caught in the middle of some weird situations that she had been able to explain away as mere extenuating circumstances, but if she had been attempting to betray him this whole time, why did she bother to save him not once, not twice, but three times now?

And why did he like it so damn much when she feel into his lap earlier? Oh, man. That was going to a persistent little reoccurring thought, wasn’t it?

——

Meanwhile, Ragna was beginning to realise that enacting any part of her grander scheme was going to be easier in theory. While conning the Mandalorian was proving to be easier that she originally anticipated (or so she liked to think), it was the detail in the plan of finding a moment of solitude that was really bearing problems.

The mechanic who owned the hangar, Peli Motto, was yet another of such obstacles in her plot. She was always around; always shouting at her droids, insisting that Ragna help her with the ship, and then there was the incessant talking. Oh, the talking. Ragna’s patience was beginning to wear thin. If she spent half as much time focusing on fixing the ship as she did talking at me, I could have left already! Ragna found herself thinking more often than not.

It wasn’t until Ragna was reporting back to her father the next evening where she began to grow restlessly desperate. His words had been particularly harsh that night, more so than usual, and it caused an untameable panic to rise in her throat, and her mind recalled the fear she felt when she was taken as a child, and paralleled it to her hunt for freedom in the present. Ragna could do nothing but helplessly watch the images flash by in her head.

A younger, though still just as terrifying version of Ragna’s Imperial father dragged away from a burning city. Though just a child, the severity of the situation had visibly wised her up instantly.

“I don’t want to go! Leave me be!” the young girl shouted.

“Quiet, girl! You’d do well to learn your place!” the man spit back.

“No! I won’t go with you! I won’t!” she pleaded, tears running down her round, adolescent face.

The older man sneered and let out a cynical laugh. “Oh? And what, pray tell, do you intend to do to stop me?”

“I’ll fight! I’ll never be one of you! I swear it!” she thrashed in the man’s arms as he led her away from her burning home. She thrashed and thrashed until she tired herself out.

She remembers being awake as he carted her away. Across the galaxy. To the Imperial Cruiser she would be forced to know as home. She was awake to witness this, but she was numb.

She was numb when her new ‘father’ laid her down in her new bed and told her this was her home now.

She was numb when he took her to a wrinkly old man who had the same powers as her. The same powers that her family had died trying to shelter her from.

She was numb when the wrinkly old man told her he was the Emperor, and, lord, was she thankful she was numb when he tortured her into using the force that her family had kept her from using.

The memories faded with dark echoes of, “you must embrace your potential,” and, “we are the only ones who want you.” Years of this brainwashing had been lost on her; trying to make her believe her family- her real family- didn’t want her. But she knew they had broken her in so many other ways; she knew when they sent her out on her first mission. She was not even eighteen years of age, and yet, she had killed so many so easily. This, of course, was not the first circumstance where she had been made to take another’s life, but this was the first time she had actually enjoyed it to some extent. She liked to tell herself that it was just the thrill of being let out on her own for the first time, but deep down, she knew that that was not the case.

She couldn’t settle after her reverie; her anxiety was pumping her blood through her head too hard. She needed to go. Immediately. The ship, whatever state it was in, would have to do.

She desperately clambered out of the ship to fetch the child, who had been playing with Peli’s droids in the shipyard. But, oh, so conveniently, he was no longer there.

“Kid? Kid where are you!” she whispered around the shipyard, doing her best to not be noticed by Peli or one of her many droids.

She was not expecting another, unknown person to catch her, though.

“The kid’s stayin’ right here.”

So close. She was so damn close to obtaining her freedom. If it wasn’t for this new asshole, Toro-fucking-Calican and his damned existence, she’d have already been out of here. He knocked her unconscious with one of Peli’s wrenches before she even had a chance to turn around and stare him in the eyes.

——

When she came to a few hours later, Calican had Peli Motto held hostage at gunpoint. The child was held in his arms, close enough to gunpoint to be a problem. She reckoned that her best bet was to try and manipulate him into doing what she wanted, but either Calican was smarter than he looked, or his head was too thick to penetrate, because nothing she said was having an effect on him. Eventually, she realised manipulating his mind wasn’t going to work, either.

So, out of options, she pulled out one of her oldest tricks. She hated using it, really, and had only used it a handful of times. It left a sour taste in her mouth, as she was made to use it for the first time at only the age of ten to force a prisoner of war into giving information. When he didn’t… Ragna didn’t like to think about that.

And she didn’t like to think about the world tuning out around her; she didn’t like thinking about how, even though her hand was at least twelve feet away from his neck, she could feel the blood clogging on either end of where the force was cutting off his air. She absolutely didn’t want to think about the panic that was flowing through the areas in his veins that his blood no longer could. She didn’t want to think about the child that was calling to her through the force to stop. She couldn’t stop. This was what she was supposed to do. Designed to do.

Ragna didn’t hear the Mandalorian arrive in the hangar. Neither did she hear him calling out to her. She didn’t hear him the second time, or the third. She couldn’t hear anything outside her head and Calican’s; only his pleading in his head, his screaming, and the screams of her past drilling holes in her sanity.

She was violently ripped from her spiralling when Mando laid a gentle hand on her upper arm and whispered her name, her real name, into her ear. Calican doubled over and sucked in gulps of air. (Y/N) could only spin around and stare into the dark visor. Ironically, it was the lightest thing in her line of sight, the rest of the world still dark around her. He gripped her arm tighter and leaned in, whispering her name again as she began to come back into the real world.

“Your girlfriend’s a psycho, Mando!” Calican exclaimed, regaining his breath. He was quick to aim his blaster again, his aim trying to decide between Mando, Ragna, and Peli Motto.

Mando only shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly, his aim at Calican’s head not once faltering. “Yeah? That’s not sayin’ much coming from you.” Mando’s words were pointed, calculated; their intended effect to sway Calican punctual and precise.

But what Ragna couldn’t stop focusing on was that Mando didn’t deny Calican’s statement about her being his girlfriend. The logical side of her knew that Mando wasn’t going to go into details with this man; he’d be dead within moments anyways, so why bother prolonging the conversation? But another part of her, a part buried deep down, liked that he hadn’t denied it. Which was dangerous, Ragna concluded, and something that should not, under any circumstance, be further considered or dwelled upon.

Mando and Calican only bickered for another second or two before things got messy. Blasters started firing, and Calican dropped the child in favour of an extra appendage. Ragna knew this was her last chance to bolt; with the Mandalorian still preoccupied with a shootout with Calican, she scooped up the child, dashed up the ramp of the ship and ascended in to the cockpit, closing the doors behind her. She had to get this ship in the air. It was cutting it close- too close- with the Mandalorian still in the hangar, but it was what it was.

The blood pumping through her ears muffled the sounds of gunfire outside, which was to her detriment, because just as she was about to finish firing up the ship, the Mandalorian entered the cockpit.

“What are you doing?” he said, pulling her out of her trance-like focus.

Ragna jumped; how did he crawl himself out of that so quickly? Actually, she thought, I really shouldn’t be so fucking surprised, at this point.

She knew she had to get herself out of this one on the spot. She pulled a pleasantly surprised face and turned to face him. “Oh thank the maker it’s you, Mando!” She let out a fake breath she wasn’t really holding. Or at least, not for the reason she wanted Mando to think.

He just continued to stare at her inquisitively. “Yes, but… what were you doing, Ragna?”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times while she thought up a quick lie. “It… it was purely instinctual! I couldn’t let Calican get the child! I…” she called upon every acting skill she could muster to look truly defeated in the chair. “So I ran up here. If I locked us in the cockpit, he wouldn’t be able to get in! I thought that by starting up the ship, I’d have time to get away should he get the upper hand!”

The Mandalorian tilted his head in a patronising manor. “Really? You think Calican would be able to out-gun me?”

“Well, you were the one who got himself out-witted by the novice in the middle of the desert!” Ragna gave him a teasing look. “Perhaps your reputation no longer precedes you. Maybe you’re really just the ‘okayest’ bounty hunter in the parsec.”

Mando only shrugged his shoulders and dismissed her teasing, before ushering her up and out of the pilot’s chair. She was heading out of the cockpit when Mando let out a final, “good job.”

Her head spun around faster than the rest of her body could, leaving her in an awkward, disjointed position. It reflected her shattered inner thoughts quite fittingly, she supposed.

“What did you say?” she inquired. She had heard him just fine, but she was having a hard time believing that he had said it at all. It knocked the air out of her, and it showed in her words.

“You… you did the right thing. If Calican had gotten the upper hand, I would have wanted you to have taken the kid and bailed. And that goes for any situation in the future, too. So… good job.”

Ragna could only let out a pathetic ‘thank you’ as she exited the cockpit. How could he thank her? How dare he thank her after what she had just attempted, and then lied about? How dare he make her feel welcomed, something she hadn’t felt in such a long time, when she was doing everything in her power to double cross him? How dare he make her question every moral, or lack thereof, she was trained to push aside in favour of the advancement of the Empire?

How dare he tempt her out of the darkness she had shrouded herself in for personal security?