#and went from tone policing to getting it

[starlooove]

You could just look at her 💀💀💀

Siobhan isn't white. She's biracial. Calling her the token white girl is just straight-out incorrect.

Oh. Both Lane and Irmgard look white to me. I figured Lane was a sendup of Donald Trump, with his fake tan and fake hairfloof. Did the writers do an interview somewhere saying Lane wasn't white?

Because, if they did not, then the idea that Siobhan is white isn't "straight-out incorrect." It's a canon-compatible idea that doesn't happen to match yours.

Now are you allowed to think that Siobhan's biracial? Absolutely. The movie never says she's not. You'd even be allowed to think that even if the movie did say she wasn't. It's called headcanon. ("Hey you know what gives this movie more depth for me? If Peter Parker were a trans boy/if Superman flies around rescuing people because he's got anxiety/if Bruce Wayne were biracial" or "Eh, Mary Bennett just feels ace to me, you know?") Fiction is meant to be fun and enlightening, so do what works for you.

However, if what you want to do is convince other people that Siobhan is meant to be biracial in canon, you've got an uphill trek because she's portrayed in a way that's usually applied to white characters. The movie's about a famously racist system, the school-to-prison pipeline, and movies about that kind of thing tend to pick white antagonists. In this movie, that's Siobhan's parents. One of them is pale with a Scandinavian first name and the other is portrayed as a parody of a specific real-life white dude. Siobhan's also clueless about why giving a black kid a nickname without permission is bad and other things that rich white kids are usually clueless about.

But I could be wrong.  Maybe all that coding was for artistic effect. If Key and Peele did an interview or an article, and they said Siobhan's biracial, then I want to read that article.  You got a link?

NOTE: This post has been updated with a response from the asker.

[shoveitevil]

ugh its starting to get a lot worse again

[vanweezer]

why is everyone who makes videos abt ******* transphobic like

[flamingpudding]

Jail Buddies

Once a month, Jason makes an effort to meet Dick on purpose. Sometimes even more. After all, he was a good little brother checking in with his brother. Though he had a rather uncontroversial way of doing so. One that involved getting led into a jail cell of your local police department and loudly demanding to speak to Officer Grayson.

Okay, maybe it wasn't like that it was an effort to check on his brother and just one of his many listed dumb moments of recklessness he got caught for. And he was maybe using his brother to get out without having to call Cass, Steph, Duke, Tim, Damian, Alfred or Bruce, in that order depending who was willing to bail him out every time Dick had his 'Little Wing you won't learn if I keep bailing you out.'-Phases again. Or if Dick was being petty because of a recent prank war.

Either way, while Jason was waiting for Dick to make his entrance in his cell he noticed the teen boy sharing the cell with him staring at him wide eyed. He arched an eyebrow, and decided on a whim to make friendly conversation.

"So what got you here kid?"

The teen blinked as if just realizing Jason had addressed him before grinning a bit feral, his blue eyes having an unnatural glow. "Vandalism."

Jason's eyebrow rose again, but the teen continued.

"Trashed mu place and gave my guardian's car a pretty paint job and some other stuff."

"You vandalized your own place? And got arrested."

"Fruitloop decided an overnight stay was a better punishment then leaving me unattended."

The teen shrugged and Jason couldn't help but feel like he just had heard a red flag. He opened his mouth to question the kid more but than his brother finally made his entrance.

"Little Wing! What did you do this time!?" Jason could see that Dick was out to start a rant but changed tunes when he noticed the teen.

"Danny or Dan? You are here again? When did they bring you in? Trouble at home?" Dick asked, and Jason clearly saw the telltale signs of information fishing bat style.

"Danny and the usual." Danny, as Jason now learned the kid's name was, shrugged nonchalantly like this wasn't the first time he and Dick had had that exchange.

"Seriously buddy? I had a rebellious phase as teen too but to regularly trash your home to the point that someone calls the police or vandalize your guardian's cars, buildings, advertisements or anything that has to do with him is not a solution kid." Jason arched an eyebrow at Dicks tone, feeling slightly reminded of whenever Dick lectured one of them.

"Oh I know. But it's a nice stress reliever, plus you guys are nice here. I get pizza as dinner whenever I stay the night." The kid grinned and Jason couldn't help the snort that earned him a little glare from Dick.

Instead of arguing further his brother let out a suffering sigh and let Jason out of the cell, waving him towards the exit and following him shortly after giving the kid one more look that looked like a mix between stern and pleading to stop being a rebellious teen.

Once out of earshot, Jason then chose to ask. "So what's the kid's deal?"

"Nothing, just a rebellious teen reminds me of Damian when he first appeared. He has a twin and a little sister as far as I know, both of them also known here. Their guardian is an upstanding man, though." Jason heard the hidden but.

"Did someone look into it?" He hummed more as a cover.

"Higher ups don't know, but i am running an investigation." Translation Bruce is unaware, but Dick was using Bat resources for looking into the kid's residence.

"Nice kid, didn't think he was a regular." He only commented.

"Nice and polite, you wouldn't think he did some of the things he was brought in for. Distrustful though, despite his friendly nature."

Jason nodded as Dick went through the papers to bail him out, a thought popping up in his head. Clearly, something was up with the kid that had his brother worried, and it looked like he was stuck on just doing his investigation. So, being the thoughtful little brother he was, Jason decided to help his brother.

In his uncontroversial ways, of course.

"Yo Danny, also here?" Jason grinned as he was led into the same cell the teen was in a week later.

[aphrvdisiac]

TO LIE AND LOVE LIKE YOU DO.

ellie williams & abby anderson x fem!reader.

part two of off to the races.

summary — it’s been months since you ran away from the loves of your life. you think you have escaped them forever — only for them to return, with a sick game of cat and mouse coming into play as they remind you just how much you belong to them.

warning tags — adult language. extremely dark content; m*rder, stalking, possessive and obsessive behavior, threats of kidnapping, lowkey blackmail (?), threats made with a weapon. strong adult content; slapping, spitting, double penetration, edging, mommy and daddy kink(s), gun play, bondage, threesomes.

author’s message — let me know if i forgot any important missing tags for this. please proceed with caution as this part is extremely heavier than the first part; ellie and abby are so not nice in here, and it gets dark pretty quickly.

“Where the fuck could she have gone?” Abby asked, her and Ellie frantically searching the penthouse. “She knows better than to turn off her location, or leave unannounced.”

“She was just here, sleeping and resting,” Ellie stated, and their panic was overcomed with frustration and anger instead. You knew that if you went anywhere without them, that you had to tell them exactly where and your location could never go off.

They would chip you if they could. They have thought about it numerous times.

Ellie’s phone rang, and she grabbed it out of her back pocket, noticing Joel’s contact. “Hello?” She answered, irritation playing into her tone. “What’s goin’ on, Joel?”

“The police are heading to your place,” Joel said, and Ellie put the call on speaker. “I don’t know what you two have done this time, but it is bad and I am not helpin’ out with any clean ups.”

“What are you talking about?” Ellie asked.

“I’m not some moron, Ellie!” He yelled, and she rolled her eyes. “They know you killed someone. They know your girlfriend was with you, too. I called her, and asked questions.”

“You did what?” Abby shouted. “Joel, what the fuck!”

That’s how they knew you had run away from them. You were a timid and easily frightened individual, and now that you were aware of what they had done, you scurried away and were going to hide. The pair knew they had some time to track you down to your home.

“Fuck off, Joel,” Ellie cursed, ending the call. “We have time to get her, to make up a story or whatever. We can avoid the police for the night?”

They agreed to find you and explain everything, to lure you back to them as they assured that there was nothing to worry about.

Abby’s eyes go wide. “The shirt.”

Ellie cursed under her breath, running to the closet and into the hamper — only to find the shirt completely gone. You had taken it, and now many possibilities surged through their heads.

“It’s gone!” Ellie yelled, and before the two could leave the penthouse to go to you, two detectives walked in.

The amusing yet realistic part of everything is that even though they knew that you thought you had gotten away for good, they were preparing on how to get you back, and never be able to escape again.

You had a particular interest in Philosophy during high school.

You loved to read the knowledge these scholar men would try to pass on, what they had to say about life, beauty, or death. You wanted to understand their wisdom, their perspective of all things, of everything around them, and how they got to a certain point about it.

You remembered a certain quote from Plato, of how Zeus feared the power of two humans mending together as one, leaving them with four arms, four legs, a head with two faces on it. However, he was so threatened by this that he split them into two, and left them to wander Earth to find each other again.

You had believed in that quote when Ellie and Abby entered your life. These two girls, the most threatening pair, would put a grand shift on your life, and how you perceived it as. They utterly shifted your world, they took you in, and prioritized your needs.

You were worshiped by them.

You couldn’t see beyond the horizon of the world without them there, and in your isolation, you still didn’t know how to.

More than sixty-five days since your departure, leaving them behind, and not hearing a single word from them.

When you came to your parent’s villa, your mother opened the door, and you sobbed into her arms, clutching onto her. She hugged you, stroked your hair, and didn’t know if she should’ve spoken or not.

Your tears soaked into her shirt, and she had to nearly drag you inside, afraid of what was happening with you.

“My dear, what’s going on?” She asked, clear to see the exhausted look on your face, your eyes bloodshot as she sat you both down on the couch. “I haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

“I just… Abby and Ellie,” you sobbed, heavily breathing, and shook your head, still in denial of what they did. “I just need to be here for a while. I’m going to transfer to Oxford.”

“You already decided on Columbia,” your mother stated, and you continued to cry, earning a sigh out of her. “You can’t just drop it now.”

You wanted to scream, “they might kill me if I return. They may never let me go after that.” You knew that they were combing through New York, probably already onto their next target — you knew the lengths they would go to just to have you back.

That was something you couldn’t fucking stomach.

“Mom, please,” you whispered, your voice jagged and shaky. “I just can’t go back to the city.” You stared up at her, and she cradled your face in her hands for a moment before nodding, and let you rest your head on her lap.

“Okay, love. You can stay here,” she assured, rubbing your back, and let you sob until you finally calmed down and fell asleep.

The next morning, your father was telling you about Abby and Ellie, wondering if you had any idea about it.

“They’re in deep shit,” he said, glaring at you. “What are you not telling us?”

“I don’t know anything, dad!” You denied, and your mother stood aside, arms folded. “Joel already asked me the same things that you are! I don’t remember shit from that night!”

“So you were there?” Your dad asked, and you fell quiet. He took your silence as an answer, sighing heavily and rubbed his temple in frustration. “You weren’t with any one of them? At all?”

“I… Ellie gave me some coke,” you confessed, guilt reeling into you as you were partially lying, and throwing her under the rug. “I was having a tough night after this guy was harassing me, and after she gave it to me, I was left with Dina and Jesse.”

An exasperated sigh came from your mother, simply frustrated that you had been doing drugs. You were never going to be her perfect daughter, and you didn’t know how long it was going to take until she accepted that fact.

Your dad took a minute to process this information before grabbing your shoulders, and forcing you to look at him. “From here on out, you know nothing. Do you understand me?”

You nodded, and he brought you into a hug, coddling the back of your head. Your father’s affection was never this tender or earnest, and you knew he was only being protective for the family image, but you didn’t care for that — your father was holding you for the first time since you were eleven.

You had to change your phone number, deactivate any social media you had, and new butlers, maids, and chauffeurs were put into place. Your parents allowed you to move to London a month later, staying in a comfortable flat, but were patrolled by bodyguards in answer to your paranoia.

After your readjustment to life, you prevented yourself from hearing anything Abby or Ellie, or if they were at trial. You needed to focus on yourself, get your shit together, and focus on your classes at Oxford.

A few months into the new school, you kept your head low and isolated — something you were used to doing when at Faye Academy, before they made themselves stuck in your existence.

You considered taking your courses online, but knew you’d only lose your mind being stuck in your flat for days on end.

All in four months, your life was granted something that you’d forgotten — freedom.

Not that Abby and Ellie were extremely possessive, but you haven't known anyone besides them in a while. You were able to make friends at Oxford, go out to bars and diners, without the fear they may kill someone who even breathed in your general direction.

It was a relief. And you felt human again.

Your parents constantly checked in on you, and often tried to visit. It was the first time in a while since they hovered over you, and were concerned for your well being.

“Yes, mom. I’m fine,” you assured over the phone, the device stuck between your shoulder and ear as you were returning your textbooks. “I finished classes early, so I was thinking of going back to Milan for semester break.”

“Well, honey, you see,” your mother started off, clearing her throat. “Your father and I were going to attend a gala tomorrow; Joel is throwing it.”

“I thought you guys cut him off,” you said, rushing out of the library, and to your car. “Especially after everything.”

There was silence.

“Mom?”

“Ellie and Abby were found not guilty,” she said, and your heart sank to your stomach. “The trial concluded yesterday— we didn’t want to say anything.”

You froze in your tracks. “What?”

“They didn’t kill that boy. I guess he had enemies all along,” she continued, and your head spun. “If you come with us, they won’t be there. Joel assured us of it.”

“So everything is just fine now because they’re innocent?” You questioned.

“Honey, you’re acting as if you know something,” she stated, and you exasperatingly sighed, continuing your walk to your vehicle. “But Jerry and Joel did say they were going to get the girls in contact with a psychiatrist.”

“Huh, and why is that?”

“I’m not sure,” she muttered, and you hopped into your car, locking the doors. “Would you like to come? And maybe we can then spend a few days in the city. Shop around Fifth.”

“I’ll think about it, momma. Still unsure about the city,” you said, and she sighed, visibly exasperated with your nerves. “I just don’t want an accidental run in with the girls.”

“You guys were so close,” she remembered. “I don’t know what happened, but I hope you all make up soon; they were the best part of your life.”

“Bye, mom,” is all you said, hanging up the call, and tossed your phone into the passenger seat, along with your book bag. You heavily sighed, staring blankly out into the parking lot.

They were the best part of your life.

They were the tragedy of you. They were Hell masked as Heaven, where their lure was nothing more than a ticket to damnation.

Yet, all of them were bestowed to you. You were their alter, their religion, the only reason as to why they believed in life, as you did with them.

But in your time of being free from their grasp, you could breathe, and find a newer light where nothing could dim it.

Your phone dinged, and your eyes snapped over to it, hands fiddling for the device. You opened up the lock screen to see a message from a random number.

Unknown: Image Attached.

You swallowed thickly, your hands numbing as you unlocked your phone and went to the conversation.

It was a picture of you from last night, hanging out with your friend, Delilah. She was someone you had been fond of since attending Oxford, and you had gotten close to her.

Unknown: Cute girl.

R: Who the fuck is this???

Unknown: Didn’t know running made you so dumb.

Nausea washed over you, and fear rattled in your bones.

Unknown: Hi, little lamb. You miss us?

R: I’ll call the police.

Unknown: I’ll tell them you tampered with evidence. We wouldn’t want that, right? Pretty baby like you isn’t suitable for jail time.

R: You would go down with me.

Unknown: You betrayed us. What makes you think we wouldn’t betray you?

You wanted to break your phone on your steering wheel, and you searched the outside of your car, checking your surroundings. There were only a few students, and it was still light outside.

But you knew they were watching you.

Unknown: You run again, and we will find you.

R: Why now?

Unknown: Had some troubles along the way, baby. But we took our time keeping tabs on you. Oxford treating you nice? How’s every bitch who fucks you?

R: You’re stalking me?

Unknown: You really are fucking stupid.

R: Don’t think I won’t get a restraining order against you.

Unknown: Why would you want that, little lamb? After everything we have done for you? Didn’t take you for an ungrateful brat, you know. We have been there when you needed us, taken care of you, dealt with people for you.

R: You mean murder people.

Unknown: Mhm.

Unknown: Be careful, honey. Scary world we live in.

You tried to send another message, but it wouldn’t go through. “What the fuck, what the fuck!” You screamed, going to your phone contacts, and bringing your phone up to your ear.

“Miss, are you alright?” Carson asked. He had been your personal bodyguard since you moved to London, and was respectful of when you wanted to be alone. “Are you in danger?”

“I need my house and the surrounding area to be checked out,” you said, reviving your car engine, and pressed on the gas. “Check for any sort of security cameras, too. Tell Rosaline to pack a suitcase for me as well, I’m heading to Los Angeles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carson answered, the call dropping, and you put your phone in your lap. You were trying not to get into a car accident on your way back to your flat, but you needed to leave the city immediately. You were just happy you finished your courses on time, and you didn’t need to worry about your education for a while.

About to reach home, your phone started to buzz in your lap. You pulled over to the side to look at the contact, only for it to be unknown again.

You hesitated on answering, just wanting to let it ring through, but a part of you wanted to know what sick agenda they had planned out for you. You knew they weren’t going to stop, that they needed you vulnerable and scared in order for them to pounce at you at the perfect moment; just like a prey and predator situation.

A game of cat and mouse.

You accepted the call, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hi, bunny,” you heard Abby’s voice, and your head spun. It had been so long since you heard either girl's voice, that you frowned at the sound of it, and almost how comforting it could be. “Missed you.”

“Abby…” you whispered out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I… You both need to stop this.”

“Why, bun? You don’t like it?” She asked.

“You and Ellie killed Brandon, and probably many others,” you told her, sniffling as tears carelessly dropped out of your eyes. “I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but murder is wrong.”

“You have the shirt, bunny,” Abby stated, and you went quiet. “Why would you do that, hm? If you really wanted to dispose and run from us, you would’ve left it behind, or turned it over to the police.”

You couldn’t tell her your logic or reasoning behind taking the shirt. It even sounded unreal to you, unbelievable, given the circumstances, and how you ran off.

“I couldn’t help but think of what would happen if you both went to prison,” you admitted, hot water running down your cheeks. “I… You and Ellie protected me, and I thought it was only fair I returned the favor. But that didn’t mean I wanted you in my life again.”

Abby hummed. “And why is that?”

“I’m free,” you muttered, inhaling sharply. “You and her wanted to keep me in a cage, keep me locked up forever. You have done it ever since you stepped into my life, and I couldn’t see it until that evening.”

“You make it sound so horrible, bunny,” she breathily chuckled, able to hear Ellie’s own laughter roughly in the background. “Let me ask you again; who’s going to put up with you? Who was fucking there when Miranda Rhodes was fucking spilling rumors about you having eating disorders? Who the fuck handled Timothy Yales after he said he had sex with you after Winter formal?”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!” You shouted, millions of emotions flooding over you, and taking you at once, drowning “I never once fucking told you or Ellie to go out of your way to do that shit! I can fucking handle myself, and being away from you both has proved that.”

“Oh, bunny. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Abby stated, sharp and clear with you. She talked as if you were dumb, that you were about out of your mind.

You could nearly burst apart, everything of you filled with terror and rage. You weren’t sure if they expected you to bow at their feet for all their maniacal endeavors they willingly decided to partake in, but you weren’t going to.

You had come this far without them, you had managed to escape them for a good time, and you weren’t planning on stopping everything now. You weren’t going to surrender your freedom and life all for them, all because you knew what they were, and what they could do.

“If I have to turn in that shirt to make sure I never see either of you ever again, I will,” you said, and hung up the call, dropping your phone back into your lap, and continued to drive back home.

The moment your car was parked, you rushed up the stairs of the building, and bursted through your front door. Your guards were all there, Rosaline getting finished up with your second suitcase as Carson approached you from the side.

“Miss, we have searched the area,” he stated, following you while you walked into your bedroom. “We found no sort of threat, especially here. I have called your family’s plane to be prepped and ready for take off to Los Angeles.”

“Carson, please close the door,” you said, sitting down on the edge of your naked bed. He listened, shutting it, leaving you and him in your bedroom as you looked up at him. “I need to ask a question, and this stays between us. Do you get that?”

“Of course, ma’am. I am under your and your parents serving,” he reassured, keeping himself near the door, a secure radius between the both of you.

“Is it possible for me to avoid the law? Few months ago, I may or may have not tampered with evidence,” you blurted, and he inhaled heavily, but nodded, tuned in with you. “My reason is so stupid, but I’m regretting keeping it in my possession, and I don’t want to anymore.”

“Well, what is it?” He wondered.

“A shirt,” you began, and he cocked his head to the side. “With blood on it. Someone’s blood who isn’t mine, because my ex-girlfriends in New York beat this dude who was harassing me.”

“And you want to turn this in now?” Carson asked, and you nodded. “Okay, miss. I’m going to see what I can do, and once I do, you can hand it over to me.”

“Thank you so much, Carson,” you smiled, standing up. “Now, let’s head to the city of angels.”

You had your own bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. It was cozy and spacious, everything to your liking, but only stayed at it when you wanted to escape home. You had once brought Abby and Ellie, and to that, you had to undergo a whole alias, and a different room.

You didn’t have much anxiety about being at Chateau, you were packed with protection, and knew the pair wouldn’t make so much time or risks since their trial had concluded, also sure that Abby understood your threat about the shirt.

You had flown late into the night, it was about three in the morning of the next day, and you were drained with exhaustion. Sleep was becoming you, yet you were on high alert, and couldn’t help but to keep checking your phone.

You worried that there would be another call, or a text; that they weren’t quite finished with their game. In your isolation, you had much time to mull over Abby and Ellie, the things they were capable of, or the people they were.

You knew blood and carnage were them. Their beauty and charm was a simple mask that only you were able to see past as violence and cruelty rotted in their souls. Maybe they couldn’t help how callous and aggressive they could be, but they lived off of it; it was all they were. There was nothing to stop them, nothing that could change them.

In a sense, you assumed your presence and soul balanced them out well — you were a complete polar opposite to them, and that’s what stood out to people at Faye Academy.

They were terrorizing, vicious females, standing with you — a loving, and free-spirited person who didn’t do much, and just kept to herself. Nobody understood or could comprehend it, but that didn't matter to them — you were the solace in their life.

You knew that they were still rough with people — mostly men — in high school, but you didn’t know you were the cause behind each act of violence that they performed. But it made sense, even as you built a timeline.

There was Teresa Doles; she had nitpicked at your appearance for weeks. When you had finally gone to Ellie and Abby about it, pictures of her partying, doing drugs, and medical records of her being in rehab had been leaked everywhere. Her family came from a prestigious lineage, and her reckless behavior put a great indent to it. She had to move to England.

Jonathan White had to be admitted to the hospital after an event for the school. Doctors said they found traces of drugs and poison in his system — which made you laugh because he said he would murder you for rejecting him for Junior prom. You recall him shouting at you, calling you a series of derogatory names, but paid no mind. Ellie and Abby weren’t happy when he told you such a thing.

Kayla Lynn was sent to the ER after her body had been found beaten and bloody in the bathroom. She was barely conscious, unrecognizable to those who found her — the doctors had to pull a tooth and fingerprints from her just to get an ID. You remembered how she bullied you for liking girls, calling you derogatory names, and even said she hoped you would be killed for it.

And you knew there just had to be more than those people. So many of your bullies either switched schools, dropped off the face of Earth, or were in physical therapy after you had told Abby and Ellie about what each of those people did to you.

You were too gullible and head over heels in love with the duo to know they were doing so much behind your back. You had been completely tuned in with love and the relationship, all you saw was them as your blessing.

They meant it when they said they would do anything for you.

“We handled it,” Ellie’s voice would play in your head from that morning. It would repeat itself like a broken record, never shutting up.

We handled it.

We handled it.

We murdered someone.

You didn’t know exactly why the murder scared you, or what provoked you to exactly take the shirt.

You were about to close your eyes until a knock tapped at your door. “Ma’am, it’s Carson,” he said, and you welcomed him in, sitting up on your bed.

You turned on the nightstand's lamp, and he gave you a small smile. “I found a way to submit the evidence without it being traced to you,” Carson said, and your heartbeat went still. “If only you’re wanting to give up the shirt, of course.”

“Well, that was quick,” you nervously laughed, staring down at your lap. “What’s the plan to turn it in?”

“I have trusted connections to the NYPD. Some officers work as guards like I do,” Carson reassured, and you hummed, chewing on your lower lip. “We can send the shirt to them as anonymous, and you won’t have to worry about the shipping coming back to you; it’ll be under my name.”

“Are you positive about that?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” he said, and your body trembled, mind hazy. You knew it would be the moral thing to do; the guy harassed you, but Ellie and Abby could’ve done anything else besides murder.

The only murder you were aware of, of course.

These girls protected and defended you and your name. They would put the world on fire, yet never let a flame brush on your skin; they were the poisonous paradise you couldn’t see as Heaven or Hell.

You had to release them, though. You needed to grow up without them by your side, because you were more than them, and they were more than you.

And if the shirt didn’t get them anywhere, at least it was out of your grasp.

You got up from your bed, padding over to your suitcase and opened it up. You grabbed a brown paper bag, and held it close to your chest. “Please make sure I don’t get in trouble for this,” you said, pleading eyes looking into Carson’s soft ones.

He could tell you were beyond frightened. That you were just someone who didn’t mean to do this, that your kind heart thought you were doing something right.

You had absolutely nothing to do with this crime, but somehow, you looked ashamed and guilty as if you did. In a sense, you were — you called Abby about the guy, you knew very well what she was capable of. It was no secret how violent and cruel Abby and Ellie could be — physically or emotionally.

“You’re safe with me,” Carson promised, and you smiled small, hesitantly handing him the bag. “Are you sure about this?”

The bag was out of your hold, Carson grasping onto it. “They need to learn their lesson,” you said, all your logic and thoughts mixed up in your head, utterly brainless at this given rate. “And I just want them to stay out of my life for good.”

He just nodded, taking the bag with him as he exited the room, leaving you alone again.

You couldn’t sleep after that. You couldn’t even try to rest knowing you were going to ruin their lives, putting into consideration all they did for you.

But, you had just regained your freedom, discovered who you were without them. You were able to make friends without their eyes boring into your soul, you could live in peace.

You couldn’t accept anymore threats or violence, just so you could remain theirs forever. Because you knew if they truly loved you, they wouldn’t put you in harm's way.

You stared blankly at the ceiling, trapped in your mind when your phone had a sudden ring to it. Your heart stopped, and you froze, your body wanting to sink into the mattress.

You let your phone ring through, letting silence fall pass after the noise stopped.

Not even a minute ticked by as the phone rang again.

You reached for your device, answering the call and brought it up to your ear. “What?”

“So much attitude, little lamb. You’re going to hurt my feelings,” Ellie's voice came through, and you sighed, sitting up. “I’m starting to like this game. Because I know you’re fucking scared.”

You scoffed. “No I’m not. I’m just wanting you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t deal with the idea of what might happen if we catch you,” she began, and shivers cascaded on your body, holding in your breath. “You want to keep running, baby? I don’t mind the chase— it’s exhilarating.”

“You’re fucking sick.”

“You knew that, bunny,” Abby joined in, taking over the call. “Why are you acting so surprised? You fucking got off on how insane we got about you, don’t act clueless now.”

“I was naive,” you retorted. “I was manipulated and blinded by you two.”

“Manipulated? Big idea for you to get at,” she continued, and you heard Ellie’s cruel laugh in the background of the call. “You knew what you were doing when coming to us about your bullies. You knew what we all would get out of it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered.

“You liked us hurting you too, bunny,” she stated, and your breaths were becoming uneven. “Always in skimpy outfits, flirting with others to get our attention. We fucking saw through you. You’re just as sick as us.”

“Shut the fuck up, Abigail!”

“Using my full name? I’m so frightened,” Abby chuckled, amused and lightened by your poor intimidation act. “Got me shaking in my boots here, sweetheart.”

“I hope you die— both of you.”

“God forbid, right? Then who’ll take care of you?” Ellie returned into the conversation. “Not even that Delilah bitch could do it. Or Holly, Nicole, Emily, Zaya— no one.”

You fell quiet for a moment, your eyes widened in disbelief. “How do you know them?”

“Baby, we told you this,” Ellie reminded you, sighing. “If you were to leave us, we would get you again.”

You zipped your mouth, anxiety surging through you.

“Having fun at the Marmont?” Ellie asked, and you shot up from your bed. “Nice name you got— Emily Dickinson. Really… that name?”

“You’re fucking here?” You asked.

Ellie snickered. “Always in your corner.”

“I have people here, patrolling—“

“Oh, we get it, you fucking princess!” She yelled. “We know you have men, we aren’t idiots. For a valedictorian, you are sure fucking dense. You think you’re always one step ahead, but you aren’t.”

“Fuck you, Williams,” you sneered.

“See you real soon, lamb,” she said, and the call ended. You knew there was no point in trying to reach the number again, it was unknown and a useless line.

Ellie and Abby stood at the top of the hotel, Delilah beaten as cable ties strapped her wrists behind her back. “Alright, you bitch,” Abby picked up Delilah from the ground, adjusting the feeble girl on her feet.

“She’s…. she’ll hate you for this,” Delilah croaked out. “And no one will believe I’ve jumped to my death.” Her head was spinning, barely conscious enough to process what these two random, strange women wanted with her, or why they cared so much. She swore a second ago she was in her flat, sound asleep and relaxed, and now she was on top of the roof of the Chateau Marmont.

None of this made sense.

“We are going to share this little secret with you since you will be dying,” Ellie said, taking out a cigarette from her pocket. “You’re not the first person who has pleaded for their life, or thought their death wouldn’t be convincing. We do this all for her, and unfortunately, she does enjoy it.”

Delilah shook her head. “No, no. You don’t know her whatsoever.”

“She brought you here to your death, sweet Delilah,” Ellie continued on, puffing out a blow. “She knows that whoever tries to steal or touch her, will be either beaten or killed by us.”

“She wanted you dead,” Abby added, and Delilah broke into hysterical sobs. “And we do give our girl whatever she wants.”

Ellie cut off the cable ties, and Abby maneuvered the frail girl over to the ledge. “Anything else you need to say, honey?” Abby asked, and Delilah’s lips parted, prepared to speak. “I don’t give a shit,” the blonde said, pushing her off as her and Ellie watched attentively, grinning to themselves as Delilah’s body splat on the concrete, blood making a river around herself.

It wasn’t long until your guards were shouting, and there were sirens in the distance.

“Ma’am, there’s been an incident on the grounds,” Carson bursted into your room, and you swallowed thickly, your phone grasped in your hands.

You threw on a robe and your slippers, pushing your way through the men. “Let me go!” You shouted, Carson being the one to shove them off. “I need to see what happened outside!”

“It’s for your safety that you don’t!” One of the men, Jackson, protested, but Carson seized your arm, and tugged you outside by your bicep.

“We listen to her,” he reminded the group as they all followed you outside. You could hear a wave of voices and distress, police officers talking to one another. In your gut, you knew something wasn’t right, and you were overwhelmed with nausea.

The noise drew you closer to the entrance of the hotel, where a symphony of shouts were clattering, and police lights mixed into the moon’s gleam. A part of you told yourself to get back into your abode, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your feet tugged your forward, curiosity tingling in your body.

You shoved yourself through a heavy crowd, officers trying to get everyone to back away or stop filming what was happening.

“Excuse me!” You yelled, and pulled yourself further in.

You regretted listening to yourself for another time. Fiery and stressed voices shifted into echoes, banging off the earth’s walls, your eyes struck open by a corpse splashed on the pavement.

Your heart beated in your throat, vomit coating it, and knots twisted in your stomach.

Delilah.

Delilah was on the ground. In front of you.

Your brain didn’t dare register any part of the gory, morbid scene that was plastered in front of you. Blood pooled around her head, her scalp visibly cracked open and her eyes open. You swore she was staring at you, everything in you shaking and trembling with great fear.

“Ma’am, get back!” An officer shouted at you, taking you out of your trance. “Please, this is a crime scene!”

“I… I know her,” you stated, and Carson approached your side. “That’s my friend— her name is Delilah Morse.”

“Please sir, let us get through,” Carson chimed in, and the officer sighed, shaking his head. “This is someone she knows. Only she’ll give you details.”

The officer went to discuss with another official, and your hand buzzed. You flinched to it, not realizing you kept your phone in your hold.

You received a message from Unknown.

Unknown: Want to keep playing, baby?

Unknown: Look at you, so scared and sick. It’ll stop once you give up.

A tear from you covered the screen, and Carson had to push you out of your stare. “Ma’am, let’s go,” he said, and you had not realized the officer was holding up the caution tape to let you through.

You heard a female’s voice come to the side of you. “I’m Detective Anna Blake. What’s your name, and relationship to the victim, miss?”

You stated your name, your voice hush and shaky as you couldn’t look away from Delilah’s body.

“And your relationship?” Anna asked.

“We… I was her friend,” you answered. “What… what did she do?”

“It looks like an apparent suicide,” she responded, and that was enough for her to gain your full attention, a confused expression plastered on your face. “She dropped from the rooftop, and ate it right here.”

“That can’t be,” you shook your head. “Delilah wasn’t at all suicidal, or had any ideations. She was the most positive person I knew.”

“Yeah, but people have personas,” Anna stated, and you furrowed your brows. “She could’ve been acting for you, and everyone else.”

“She’s from London, Detective,” you said, and she stared at you appalled, but intrigued. “She wouldn’t kill herself here.”

Anna was quiet for a sparse second. “Huh… do you know something we don’t?”

Why couldn’t you just shut the fuck up?

There was an open entrance for the vehicles to come through, and for a moment, you swore you saw Ellie and Abby standing across the street.

You knew their silhouettes. And they were watching you, witnessing their crime.

You stared at them back, because now you accepted the truth that no matter where you ran off, that would be there. They would create mess and murder back to back until you gave up the running, and realized you only belonged to them.

Fear was a disease in you, and the only way to kill it was to face them.

Your mother wanted you back in New York. She gave you no choice but to attend the Gala with her and your father.

You tried your best to talk your way out of it, explaining that you had just witnessed your best friend’s corpse the previous evening.

Your mother said the Gala would be a great distraction. You tried to make any point or excuse to stay home, until your father had himself step into the argument. He tended to never insert himself into fights with you and your mom, but this time he felt the need to, and that’s when you were left with no choice.

Of course, your main concern was that Ellie and Abby were going to be there, and confronting them was going to be an inevitable situation. You had to prepare yourself the most as to what to say or do if they were to be in your eye radius.

“This dress is killing me,” you muttered, patting down the bottom part of the simple, yet elegant dress you wore. “And the corset of this is smashing my boobs.”

“Your dress is lovely, dear,” your mother assured, and you scowled. “You have always loved long dresses like this; so long at the bottom, we can’t even see your heels. And you always adored sleeveless corset tops on them, too!”

“You look perfect, honey. You wore this exact dress for junior prom,” your dad reminded, and you shivered to the memory of it. Abby and Ellie were your escort — of course — and everyone adored your dress, even making it into a page in Vogue because it was Vivienne Westwood.

“I just… I don’t want to see them,” you muttered, and the limousine came to a halt. “And it just doesn’t feel right being here, having fun and socializing, when my friend just fucking died.”

“Cherie, Delilah’s death was not your fault or anything,” your mother said, and you glared at her. “It is unfortunate it took place at the same time you were there, but she was just an unhappy girl.”

You didn’t want to converse with her anymore, only getting out of the car before any of them, and were immediately blinded by flashing lights. Your parents stood behind you, and you fixed up a promising smile, making your way into the gala.

The second cameras and screaming men were out of your way, you hunted down a busboy for a glass of champagne. “I will take that!” You grabbed the drink from the silver tray, thanking the man, and earned a groan from your parents.

“Can you at least greet people before you get wasted?” Your father asked, and you shrugged, letting him drag you over to the familiar faces of Jerry Anderson and Joel Miller. You hadn’t seen them since the few days before the murder.

“Ah, there she is!” Jerry exclaimed, and you exchanged a cheek kiss with him, and Joel. “We heard you moved to London. Oxford, right?”

“Yes. It’s been quite delightful,” you shortly shared. “I finished exams early, so I came back into town for the meantime.”

“And do you plan to catch up with the girls?” Joel asked.

You knew at that moment that no one quite understood what really took place that night, and you would never confess to it. They all blindly assumed that there was a great falling out in response to the murder of Brandon James, that you simply didn’t tolerate that behavior, and in some parts of that, it was true.

You had no place or reason to tell the whole truth, or to be honest, when there was an exact, appropriate place to share such a thing. Yet however, if you did, no one would believe you — there was no evidential proof or key to say that Ellie and Abby killed him.

They thought the girls were saints, who were being wronged by another higher power.

The actual case would have them dropping to the ground, and you couldn’t exactly say, “Abby and Ellie are sadistic killers who get off to the pain and torture.”

God fucking forbid, though.

“I’m not so sure,” you answered, taking a light sip of your champagne. “I want to keep to myself for the meantime, and make more goals for my future.”

“Well, if they came tonight, I’m sure it would’ve been lovely,” Jerry said, and you dryly laughed with them.

Champagne wasn’t enough to fill the hollow in you. You needed the strongest shit to exist at the bar.

You had a clear cue to let yourself leave their conversation, leaving you alone in the event. You went to the bar, and sat there, requesting a martini. You put your clutch purse in front of you, and sighed heavily, a migraine coming to your head.

You weren’t used to going to these high class functions by yourself — hell, you didn’t even go until the girls became a part of your life, and would be by your side at each and every one of them. It made your parents happy that they were there to tug you out of your shell, make you more extroverted.

A figure sat at the chair next to you, yet you didn’t pay any mind to it.

Until they said your name, and the voice was familiar.

Your eyes flickered to the side, and you saw Dina. Your eyes widened, your body directing toward her, and she smiled. “How have you been!” She cheered, pulling you into a hug, and you could only hug back. “You fell off the face of planet Earth!”

“Oh, yeah,” you broke the hug, facing her. “I… I decided to do school at Oxford. I just needed to get out of the city.”

“Oxford is nice,” she said, smiling small. “Jesse and I were worried about you. The girls said you had broken up with them.”

You gawked at her in disbelief as she went on to order herself a drink.

Who else was fucking clueless?

“Well, I guess,” you mumbled, your martini set down in front of you. “We just had issues we couldn’t resolve from the night before.”

“Oh shit, that sucks,” she sighed, shaking her head. “The breakup must have been terrible to have you move to London.”

Her glass of tequila on rocks came to her as she took a refreshing sip of it, and you were about to claw out your eyes. Either she had brain damage, was lying, or truly wasn’t aware of what occurred that night, but must have since it happened at Jesse’s club.

“Dina Woodward, be fucking serious with me,” you said, and she raised a brow. “You know what happened. That night.”

She blankly stared at you.

“That night… at your boyfriend’s club…”

Dina shrugged, and you were taken aback. “Jesse must know, then.”

“Ellie and Abby were accused of a serious crime,” she began, and you bitterly scoffed, “which they were found innocent to. They had to go through that trial alone, they went through Hell without you.”

“They killed him, Dina,” you told her, yet lowered your voice due to the gossip crowd that circulated. “You cannot seriously be defending them.”

“I’m not defending them,” Dina stated, and you rolled your eyes, downing your martini. “They have plenty of enemies, and you know that, too. Everyone wants to see them at their absolute worst, and do their own dirty work to make it happen.”

You got up from your seat, grabbing your purse. “It was nice seeing you, Dina.”

You shoved your way through the bustling crowd, and were stuck in the middle as soon as your phone began to buzz.

“Not this shit again,” you mumbled to yourself, and pulled out your phone, putting it up to your ear. “What the fuck can I do for you?”

“You look pretty, sweetheart,” Ellie said. “Don’t you worry, we aren’t in your vicinity.”

“Oh, I’m so fucking pleased to hear that,” you exasperated, rubbing your temple in frustration. “Then how do you know I’m here?”

“You’re right, my apologies,” Ellie laughed, and you heard rustling over the line.

“Bunny, we are going to play a game,” Abby came to the line, and your heart jumped rapidly. “We can see you, but we’ve made sure you can’t catch a glimpse of us.”

“What do you want?” You asked.

“You still don’t get it, darling. But that’s okay,” she took a hast pause, collecting her thoughts. “We told you many times that if you were to run, we would catch you, because you are ours. You can hide, change your name, go to different universities, but we will always be there.”

You swallowed thickly, knowing you were getting stares to your frightened look on your face.

“Your parents don’t give a shit about you, they only kept you away so their image wouldn’t be ruined,” she said, and you knew that was more than true; your parents would do anything to remain prestigious and clean, and you were the taint in their life. “You said you kept that shirt to return the favor, but there’s more than that.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about, Anderson,” you scoffed, and she hummed. “I gave that shirt away; you and Ellie are going to prison for good.”

“We’ll see about that, bunny,” she said, and the line went flat. You rushed yourself to the ladies room, nausea building in you as the room spun, and your nerves weakened your muscles. Laughter and shouts from strangers rang in your ears as you dragged yourself further to the bathroom, and the sickening gut feeling came back to you.

You couldn’t pull apart if you were truly just sick to your stomach, or your intuition was stronger than ever.

You pushed the door open to the ladies room, and to your luck, it was completely empty. You lunged yourself into a stall, and collapsed down on your knees, yucking it up into the toilet. Your anxiety and worry got the best of you, making you a mess so easily, and you were embarrassed by it.

You stood up after a few minutes, taking in slow, steady breaths, and gathered yourself, standing back up. You moved over to the sink, and settled your purse down, opening it up to grab your lipstick. You rinsed out your mouth with the faucet water, and sighed heavily, turning off the sink.

You reapplied your scarlet red lipstick, and put the item back into your purse, along with your phone.

Then a click was made from the side of you, gaining your attention.

The nausea came back, but not in a wave, yet in a violent crash. You swore your heart stopped for a moment, but could hear it violently beat in your eardrums while bile stung inside your throat, threatening to come out again.

Your body trembled, knees about to bring you down, and all you wanted to do was die at this very moment.

“Hey, little lamb,” Ellie said, grinning in pride. Your body pressed back against the sink’s counter, and tears approached over your eyes as you stared at her. “What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

“No… no,” you said, able to take yourself to the bathroom’s entrance. You opened it, only to be met with Abby instead, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “You are both not here.”

“Oh, but we are,” Abby said, moving forward in sync to your steps going backwards. She maintained a fairly safe distance, but one close enough to grab you if you tried to run. “Why so surprised, bunny? We promised this.”

Something about them was gravely different this time. There was a darker energy to them, a sense of evil and anger heating off of them as they stared at you down in the way the predator does when they have finally cornered their prey.

Yes, they got you, and you had no way out anymore — what a fucking terrifying and cruel revalation.

The cat got their little mouse, right by the tail.

You had fallen right into their trap perfectly, in all the ways they wanted you to. It took great cunning patience and practice to get you in this position, to have you trapped.

You were beyond scared; this was the reoccurring nightmare you dreamt of since the night you left. You always tried to consider or plan out what you would do if they were to approach you in any way, but you never paid mind to how methodical and intelligent they were.

You doubted their skills and abilities, and you were dumb to think they wouldn’t get you any time soon, that you would be free from them for a few more months, maybe a year or two – maybe even a lifetime — you wished and prayed upon it.

You were stuck now. The cat and mouse game came to their precise ending.

“Are you going to kill me now?” You asked, and they hummed, shrugging to themselves.

“Well, if we wanted that, we would have done it back in LA,” Abby said, and your eyes averted back and forth between them, trying to see if there was a possible way out. “Or back in London, who knows. We had so many open opportunities to kidnap you, but we liked this little game.”

“Is that what you’re planning to do now? Kidnap me?” You asked, snickering dryly. “Keep me hostage forever? Wouldn’t be anything new to me.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” Ellie told you, tilting her head to the side. “You liked this claim we have on you. You will never admit it and that’s okay, because we know it, baby.”

“Now let’s not be so rude,” Abby said, and you glanced at her. “Let’s say bye to our guests, and go back home, little bunny.”

Ellie and Abby had seemed to have enough time to decorate the penthouse. To your last memory of it, only the shared bedroom was furnished, and now, they had everything perfectly perched in precise spots.

You sat in the living room, on the black velvet couch as you stared out the window with a mindfulness of thoughts. The city was bustling, sirens louder than ever, and traffic stacked up. You tried to concentrate on the noise outside because it would be last time you would hear it.

The pair had finished fixing themselves up a drink, returning to the room, and sat across from you. You didn’t pay attention to them, fits of rage and terror consuming you inside. You don’t know why you thought you would actually escape them, and you had only dug yourself in a deep grave.

The familiar silence moved through the home, and you could feel their eyes spiking into you, waiting for you to say something. You had more than to say and ask, but you didn’t know where exactly to start, or if you were allowed to question certain things.

“You killed Delilah,” you blurted out, your eyes averting from the window. “You killed Brandon James, and many others, I assume.”

“We have,” Ellie answered, drinking her bourbon.

“I don’t get why. Why do you kill people? How do you even get away with it?” You asked, and Abby glanced over at Ellie, communicating to each other through their eyes. “Are you in like a fucking cartel or some shit?”

“Joel didn’t have an easy time getting to where he is,” Ellie began, setting her glass down, and slouched back on the couch. “He has some connections, and so does Jerry. It’s hard to get into it all, but they were doing illegal shit on the side to get money, build their legacies.”

“We didn’t kill until you,” Abby said, and you raised a brow, positioning your body in their direction. They could tell you were now intrigued, and you were; you were more than curious. “It was two months into knowing you, and you told us about Rachel Wayne. Remember her?”

“Of course I do. That bitch bullied me like it was her life’s purpose,” you lightly joked, and she sighed. “Why?”

“It was the day when she beat you in the girl’s bathroom, ramming your face into the blow dryer all because you got a higher score on your SAT,” Abby said, and you hissed at the memory. You were a good fighter, but Rachel’s envy possessed her strength that day, and she kicked you around like an animal in the bathroom.

She locked the door, keeping her friends, you, and herself locked in, while they recorded the whole moment. You went home with a concussion, a busted face, and cried to the girls about it.

“We were so fucking pissed,” Ellie said, scoffing to herself. “We knew Rachel well. We invited her over to my place, and made small talk, getting the information out of her about what occurred. We got names, and everything.”

You remained quiet, but stayed tuned in and fully focused.

“We got her high off cocaine, and once she was zoned out, we beat the fuck out of her,” she explained, and your heart thumped against your chest, about to pop out. “She was crying, and screaming; but it made us think of how that was you previously because of her. Our anger overrode us to the edge, and we started cracking her body in. We didn’t know we had killed her until she was completely fucking limp.”

“Those who had the video were dealt with too,” Abby assured. “If they refused to delete it, we made sure their lives would be ruined, their parents would be left with nothing. We knew how to obliterate these spoiled fucks.”

“Are you serious?” You asked. It was rumored that Rachel ran away to her boyfriend in Spain, and refused to come back because her parents were assholes to her, and just a straight disappointment to them. “How did you clean up your tracks?”

“Well, I called Joel in a panic, and told him everything,” Ellie answered, finishing her drink. “Joel told Abby and I to get ourselves cleaned up, and these men came over like an hour later, picking up after us.”

“They wiped our phones and tracks completely,” Abby said, and slid you forward her glass of whiskey. “And then we did it again, and Joel quickly realized we were doing it for you. He saw that you were our purpose, so he let us use his connections, and everything.”

“He was worried everything was going to collapse the second the cops came about Brandon,” Ellie recalled, and took out a fresh cigarette. “That was a mess we had to fix, of course. Like, I’d never seen Joel so pissed off before, it was insane.”

“How did you get away with the murder?” You questioned.

“Easy shit,” Abby laughed, shrugging. “He had himself in rough, bad business. We basically found someone who he owed money to, planted all the evidence and shit on that dude.”

“Now that motherfucker is serving life,” Ellie lit up the stick, inhaling sharply. “We made sure it wouldn’t come back to us.”

“But the shirt,” you reminded them, and they stared at you for a moment before aweing at your little tactic. “The shirt is with the cops.”

“Is it, though?” Abby teased, and a faint ding of the penthouse elevator chimed, footsteps approaching into the living room. “Right on time, too! God, I fucking love dramatics.”

Your eyes shifted to the noise, a broad and muscular figure walking to everyone; and you swore it was the night you were going to go into shock, or have an aneurysm.

Carson stood before you with the shirt in a clear zipped bag, and Abby stood up. “Thank you so much,” she grinned, and Ellie shook his head. “Your money has been transferred to your offshore account.”

“What the fuck?” You blurted, Carson directing his eyes towards you. “You knew?”

“I’m the one who’s been cleaning up their messes,” he admitted, and Abby opened up the bag, taking out the shirt. “It didn’t take much to convince your parents to hire me. I just needed a believable resume.”

You shot up from the couch, staring him down. “You told them where I was at, and everything! You are a fucking narc!”

“I didn’t have to tell them anything,” Carson dryly chuckled, amused by your terrified expression. “They were able to do that all on their own; I just gave them the starting point, and left it at that.”

You smacked him, the skin contact echoing in the home. He only laughed, finding you childish and weak, and shrugged. “I’ll have you fucking killed!”

“Loved to see you try,” he said, and took his exit, waving to the pair. You stared at where he was in utter shock, widely appalled with slight betrayal hitting your heart. You had trusted Carson wholeheartedly, felt secure and safe with him, and it all was a blinding lie.

Ellie started up the fireplace, and your eyes flickered to the ghostly fire. “No, no!” You shouted, trying to seize the shirt from Abby, but the auburn haired girl entrapped you in her hold, forcing you to watch the shirt to be burned.

“You know, I hope you start to learn tonight,” Abby tossed the shirt into the fire, and you wailed, thrashing in Ellie’s arms, yet it was pointless; in every way, they would always be stronger, you being a weakling.

The shirt crinkled and disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Ellie let go of you, and you glared at her. “We aren’t done talking,” she settled you back on the couch, and Abby brought a glass of chardonnay to you. “Now we want our answers.”

“I’ll fuck you up!” You spat, and they tried not to laugh. “What else shit do you have to say?”

“What did you expect to happen when you came to us about your bullies?” Abby asked, genuine and engrossed. “Did you think we would just have chit chats?”

You took a second to yourself, and you stared down at your lap, fidgeting at your dress. Before Abby and Ellie came into your life for good, they were notorious at the academy, and held that title with such pride. You knew what they were capable of, what they could do, and you saw them as your defenders from everything.

Did a part of you know what you were doing? Yes, but not that it would lead them to murder. You never understood or knew why they were so fixated on you, even before they decided to lure you into their lives. They had been riveted by you, and there was not a clear indication as to why, but you used it to your full advantage.

Your parents didn’t care about you, and they knew that. All three of you played a dangerous, deadly role in the relationship; it was volatile and brutal, but it was all you had, and they were all you wanted.

You spent so much time running and hiding from them, you never took a particular moment to realize your role in everything. You took that shirt because it was a part of you; you had Brandon killed, he was a deadman the second you called Abby about him.

You were just as guilty as them, you were just as part of their games and murder.

No one else was going to do this for you, nobody would burn and tear apart the Earth just to have you in their grasp again.

“There’s our girl,” Abby cooed, and you looked up at them, tears in your eyes. “You finally understand. After these years, now it has come to you.”

“You gave us the cards, we just played them the way you liked,” Ellie said, and you downed the chardonnay, exhaling shakily as you set it down. “We knew you were too much like us, we couldn’t deny you anymore. We had to have you.”

“Every time you said we handled it,” you sucked in a hard, jagged breath, “was that code for ‘we killed someone”?”

“What else would it mean, princess?” She mused, burning her cigarette out alas in the ashtray on the coffee table.

A silence slowly creeped into the room, crinkling of the fire and outside traffic filling it as it lasted what felt like moments.

“You know the first time we say you — God, we just knew we had to have you,” Abby spoke, and your eyes trained focused on them. “You hypnotized us by simply existing, by being in our vicinity. It was like we were blessed to come across one of God’s angels.”

You were always sure that they were attracted to you because you simply co-existed within their class status, and because they knew you were the only girl at Faye Academy that wasn’t corrupted or tainted. You were like this fresh breath for them to use — and you still thought like that after everything they had done for you, and even prove that they did love you beyond your body.

“Why me?” You asked.

“We don’t know what you did to simply draw us in, but we couldn’t resist. Every time I saw you in class, in your nicely ironed pleated skirt, in your dark blue polo sweater… your makeup done so pretty…” Ellie reminisced, a crude grin playing onto her lips as she recalled the first moment she laid eyes on you. “You were so pure, so perfect for us. It was no longer about wanting you, it was about needing you — we had to; everyday that passed by where you weren’t in our grasp, we could almost die from it.”

“You will never truly know how much you have us at our knees for you, sweetheart, and that’s okay,” Abby said, and you sucked in a sharp breath, not knowing you had been barely breathing the entire time they spoke about you. “But understand the risks we would go through for you; we live and breathe you. We crave and yearn for you, despite the fact you are already ours. What is our purpose if you simply don’t exist in our lives?”

There was not much you could say to that, only able to break down. They sat up from the couch, and Ellie reached her hand out for yours, softly looking at you.

“Let’s go upstairs, baby,” she gently spoke to you, and peered up, hesitantly interlocking your fingers with hers. She walked you with her, Abby trailing close behind as an easy quietude settled in place, though your sniffles were the only thing to be heard.

Walking into the bedroom, you were momentarily paralyzed by the memory of your last moment in it. You were on that same bed when you put all the pieces together, and had left them with no letter or anything; you took your absence, and that was that.

Ellie guided you over to the wall mirror, her and Abby brushing up close on your back, the two attentively admiring you. “We would do anything for you, sweet girl,” Abby said, and your sobs slowly came to a halt. “We’ll always happily be your executioner, for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re our girl,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But I think you need a fresh reminder of what you put us through.” Her hand hid behind her for a moment, grabbing something from the back of her jeans. A gun came into your vision, and your breath hitched, but she kept it by her side.

Your neck was met with Abby’s soft lips, her warm breath fanning against your skin, and her fingers loosened the strings of the corset. You softly moaned, Ellie fixated on the sight of you easily falling apart to Abby’s kissing, and grinned to herself. “Doesn’t take much to have you under us,” she said, and you eyed her, nodding.

The dress was undone, and easily dropped off your body, the duo getting the view they had longed for all this time. You were bare and exposed, only in underwear, and a primal urge had shadowed over them, wanting to ruin you without any thought.

“Oh, bunny,” Abby whispered. “Just as perfect as we remembered.”

Her lips separated from your marked neck, and you whimpered as Ellie pressed her gun to your abdomen. “What a sweet sight that I will never get tired of,” she mumbled, kissing your cheek. “Seeing you fucking petrified as if we will kill you at any moment.”

“But you won’t,” you retorted. “Right?”

“No,” she promised as the gun was slowly dragged to your temple, and she clicked the trigger, only for the barrel to be empty. You flinched to the trigger, your heart racing. “But we will hurt you, I can assure you that, little lamb.”

She used the gun to steer you to the foot of the bed. “On your fucking knees,” Abby demanded, and you collapsed to them, your knees thudding against the cold, hard granite tiles. “Anytime you stop, we use this gun, and you can find out yourself if the barrel is cleaned out.”

“Yes, mommy,” you muttered, and they amusingly hummed. Ellie kept the gun in position, using one hand to unbuckle her belt, and strip off her jeans as Abby did the same. It was a rare thing for them to have their straps under their pants, only if they knew they would have to handle you at any given moment, and this was one of them. You were going to come crawling back, and they were prepared for it, to claim and destroy you all in one.

“Mama gets to have you first,” Ellie said, and you parted your mouth open, Abby’s stuffing your mouth full with her cock, careless to your gagging. She had her way with you, her hand holding the top of your head as she thrusted herself into your mouth, trying your best to not pull back and gasp for air. The gun was there to keep you place, and you couldn’t ignore how it pressed deeply into the side of your head.

“That’s right, baby. Fuckin’ whore,” Abby said, and you tried to best out of your nose, desperate for more air. You used whatever strength you had, forcing your head back, and engulfed amounts of oxygen into your lungs. “What the fuck did we say?”

The trigger was pressed, and your ears rang with it. Empty, again.

“You’ve been away too long, princess,” Ellie said, and Abby retrieved your head, your mouth filled with the silicone object again. “Was too busy fucking other girls, huh? I bet they couldn’t make you like this; I can see you fucking dripping through your panties.”

Your arousal was a wildfire in you, spreading through your stomach, and down into your thighs. You could feel the mess you were making, seemingly ashamed and embarrassed how you got wet from their threats, with a gun pointed to you that was possibly clipped.

“There she is, now you are being good,” Abby praised, her thumb pressing away the tears that fell on your apple cheeks. “Always doing your best for us, hm? Knew you missed us too, baby.”

Ellie crouched down to your level, the gun lined up under your head as her grin turned into a twisted smirk. “All that we did for you, little one,” she mocked a frown, sighing. “And you just ran away like that? Coming home to find you gone, and betraying us?”

You were lightheaded and dizzy, your mind hazy, yet tried to stay focused. Your moans and whimpers gargled in your throat, drool running out of the corners of your mouth, and falling down onto your breasts.

“You belong to us, and you better start getting that through your fucking skull,” Ellie seethed, her bitter fury coating her mind. “You are only hurting yourself by doing the shit you do. A fucking brat you are.”

Abby decided to give up on you, your mouth hollow and free. She grabbed you by your throat, a sinister shade lingering in her eyes, and air whistled through her teeth. “Little bunny, you have no clue what you’ve done to yourself.”

You were put in the middle of the bed, and Ellie looked at her gun. “Let’s see if she can still take us,” she said, and Abby hummed, nodding. Ellie adjusted herself in between your legs, shoving them open, and stripped off your underwear, moaning at the sight of your cunt. “Fucking hell. She’s fucking soaking, babe.”

Abby had bunched ropes in her hand, kneeling into the bed, and stared at your cunt. “What a sick bitch you are, bunny,” she teased, running a finger down your slick folds, and you whined. “All of this from a gun, Ellie. She fucking loves it.”

Nothing else was said as Abby grasped onto your legs, and pushed your legs up against your chest. Her hands gripped on your wrists, having you hug the underneath of your legs, and made sure you kept yourself locked in the placement.

Ellie tied your wrists together, tight enough to not cut off any blood supply, and then went on to your ankles, knotting them in one. She used another string of rope to connect your ankles to your wrists, making your position trapped and stuck.

“We don’t want to hear you enjoying this,” Ellie said, and gave the gun over to Abby as the blonde sat herself in front of you. Ellie took off her strap, letting it drop to the ground, and took off her underwear, only to move herself over your face. She carefully lowered herself down on, and her aching cunt met your mouth as you obediently sucked and ran your tongue on it.

Abby slowly slipped the gun into you, yet you were soaked enough to let it easily be fucked into you. She pressed down onto your stomach as she rammed the cold weapon into your pussy, and you tried to muzzle your needy noises, tending to Ellie’s needs.

The auburn girl rutted herself against your mouth, eliciting shaky moans and cursed under her breath. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart,” she muttered, looking over at Abby while she continued to fist the gun into you.

You lathered Ellie’s slick on your tongue, pleased how it dripped over your lips as you moaned to the sweet taste of her. If your wrists weren’t restrained, you would keep your arms around her thighs just to eat her out for hours on end.

Abby and Ellie were intensely dominant, it was unwonted when you gave them pleasure. They were refusing about it, saying that you were the one who needed to be desired and tended to whenever you wanted to be.

You couldn’t tell if you were immensely desperate or if the gun was fucking you so well, that you were already at the peak of your climax. You denied your orgasm, needing to get Ellie to hers, and harshly ate her out, fucking her hole with your tongue, sending her into a moaning, pleading mess for you.

“Oh shit, sweetheart— yeah, keep going,” she softly moaned. “Being such a good girl for daddy, gonna make sure to cum in your pretty mouth.”

“She’s making a mess on your gun and sheets,” Abby said, and for a moment, your cunt was not filled until she pushed her cock into you. “There we fuckin’ go, this is exactly what she needs.”

Ellie craned her body near Abby, the two kissing each other in a sloppy manner as the blonde roughly fucked into you. Abby kept her close as Ellie’s jagged moans and whines breathed into her mouth, doing all she could to keep herself up and close.

“You going to cum, baby, hm?” Abby asked, and Ellie moaned against her lips, nodding. “Go on, cum for us. You can do it.”

Ellie’s orgasm came crashing down as she squirmed and cried out, twitching on your mouth. Ellie pushed herself up, kneeling beside your head and leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning at the taste of her. You sucked on each other’s tongues, Ellie slipping her hand down your stomach, and made way in between your thighs, rubbing your cunt.

She broke apart the kiss, her free hand gripping onto your jaw to make forced eye contact, and spat into your mouth. “Make us proud, baby. Want you to give daddy a good one,” she whispered, and you kept your eyes trained into hers as Abby pounded herself deeper into you, the squelching noises of your slick mixing in with your whimpers and throaty moans.

“So fucking tight, never gonna get enough of this perfect pussy,” Abby breathed, her hands squeezing the back of your thighs. “Made just for us, sweet girl. Everything about you was made for us to worship and ruin.”

“No one fucked you like this back in London, huh?” Ellie asked, and you shook your head. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. Probably had to get off all by yourself while you thought of us, too.”

“Just… just thought of you two the entire time,” you confessed, brows knitted together. “I need you so bad, ‘m sorry.”

“We’re here, baby,” she said, kissing the side of your head. “Next time you try to escape, you’ll absolutely fucking regret it. Got that?”

You nodded, and a warm sensation kindled in the pits of your stomach, knowing the familiar feeling. You squirmed, and Abby glanced over at Ellie. “If she doesn’t understand, we’ll just beat it into her,” she said, making it a sincere promise, and a chaste kiss was made to your forehead. “I would hate to do that, but it might just happen.”

Your approaching orgasm made it too troubling to know if they would harm you in such a way, but you were at the point that you couldn’t put it past them.

“Cum for mommy,” Abby insisted, and you moaned, your hips jittering as your climax broke out of you, broken moans escaping from you. “That was fucking nothing, you crybaby.”

The cum from her strap leaked with yours, dripping out of your hole, and making a puddle in the bedsheets. She unknotted the ropes, tossing them to the ground shortly after, and massaged your wrists.

You laid there for a second before bursting out in a fit of laughter, the two confused by it.

“What?” Ellie bluntly asked.

“Surprised you even let me cum,” you said, laughing a little more. “Usually you have me work for it.”

Abby and Ellie looked at each other before their eyes went back to you as they puckered their lips in thought nodding to themselves. Ellie picked you up from the bed, and brought a violent backhand slap to your cheek, halting your laughter altogether.

“You want to keep fucking laughing!” She yelled, giving you another one. “You are even fucking lucky we are touching you. We could have had you strapped to a vibrator for hours, and hit you every time you tried to cum.” Your lightness turned into sobs, and you stared at her through glossy vision, your pout shaking on your lips. They had simply run over their limit and patience with you, and you no longer doubted the sadism they would lay on you.

Abby just stood by, soaking in your tears and how easy it was to crack you. It was enough for the both of them to get off. She took you from Ellie, putting your arms behind your back as her chest brushed up against it, and Ellie took off her shirt, harnessing back on her strap.

God, I know you hate me, you thought to yourself. But please, have mercy on me.

Abby spat down your ass, using the saliva as lubrication, and dipped you down onto her strap, your ass hole brutally being stretched open. She kept you steady and positioned right for Ellie, who was not far behind as she shoved her cock into you.

“Ride us, bitch,” Abby said, and you obliged, hissing under your breath. The pain lasted longer than you thought, tears flooding into your ears while their size brutalized your cunt. “Such a sensitive cry baby. So easy for us to break you.”

Your head fell back on her shoulder, looking up at her. “Please, mama. ‘M sorry, I’ll be so good for you.”

Ellie grabbed your jaw, a violent smack struck against your cheek. “You enjoy lying to us, all the fuckin’ time. We should’ve disposed of you a while ago, see how you would’ve done without us.”

“What a pity that would be,” Abby taunted, laughing breathily in your laugh. As they found humor at the thought of you being a lost lamb without them, you were ripping at the seams as you went on to ride them at a gentle pace for you, the discomfort shifting into grand pleasure. “I would like to see that. Maybe next time we will leave, have you feel what we did.”

“No no!” You cried, shaking your head, and broke into hysterical sobs. “Didn’t mean to go, swear I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ellie jested, that eerie smirk of hers resting on her lips. “Because who will put up with you? Make you feel like this? Give into your fucking sick desires?”

“That’s why you’re perfect for us,” Abby noted, her hand creeping up to your neck, and viciously gripped on your throat. “Just as twisted and fucked in the head as us, more than you’d care to admit. No one will want or need you the way we do.”

You refused to deny them that. They were what you craved, they were the epitome of your lust and dreams, everything you yearned for, and were the helping hand to expose who you were to yourself. You would’ve done the same as them if they tried to leave; you would fucking slaughter those who they cared for just to have them again.

A match made in the ninth circle of Hell.

Your next high came to you, making it easily known as your noises got high pitched, making it an indicator. “Let me cum, please,” you pleaded, sobbing. “Want to cum, I need to— I’ll do anything you want.”

“We like you this way, stupid whore,” Abby said, and made the gun useful again, pointing it to your ribcage. “You cum, I pull the trigger.”

You body tensed, and you nodded, trying to ignore your unbearable high as it was becoming raw ecstasy to you. Your thighs trembled, about to give up on you, and you looked at Ellie through wettened eyelashes, your face drenched with tears and sweat.

The bedroom was rare filth, you could smell sin and vices burning through it. Your life was in their hands in every literal sense, but you wouldn’t have it any other way; you would rather die than not have them, and if that meant they would have to kill you themselves, you would let them. You were utterly nothing without them, and they knew it, too.

You had all the fucking wealth and privilege in the world to be someone, but you couldn’t be if they weren’t there on your side. You were them, and they were you. Your souls were eternally intertwined, and no matter where you went, you would always come back to them because they were it. They were all you sought out for.

Despite their desecration and souls being planted from Hell, they were Heaven and all things bliss.

You needed them. You would always need them.

You were winded out of your head as your orgasm stung inside of you, crying to be freed. You sobbed with it, shaking your head, but had to consider the gun that was indented into your skin. You had not known how much was passing when holding in your cum, but you couldn’t take it, and it was easily making you fall apart.

“Mommy, please!” You cried, blubbering in your tears. “I have to— ahh, please! I can’t do it, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, and you will, you fucking whore,” Ellie argued. “Unless you want to find out if the next shot has a bullet in it.”

You shook your head, and continued to break into sobs, your orgasm threatening to be released at the edge of you. It was becoming too much, your vision was blurring, and your heart was overwhelmed, almost frightened you would have a heart attack of some sort.

Ellie and Abby gave in, violently and recklessly pounding into you, putting your riding to a complete stop. You placed your hands on Ellie’s shoulders for support, Abby’s nails clawing into your throat as she continued to hold onto it for leverage while she maintained to hold you at gunpoint.

Utter euphoria rode over you, your eyes rolling to the inside of your head, and your back perfectly arched, crying out for the both of them. Your nails scratched at Ellie’s skin, your eyes getting a hast look at her fucking your cunt. Your noises and voice grated like rust at the back of your throat, breaths shuddering in your ribcage.

“You want to fucking cum, bunny?” Abby breathily asked. “Cry for it more if you really want it, sweetheart.”

“Mama, please!” You sobbed loudly, your mewls and cries faltering in your cries. “Want to be full of you, need to be bred by you two, please. Make me a pretty mommy for you, keep me trapped with you.”

They fucking lost it on you, ferociously driving themselves deeper into your wet, abused holes, and were coming to their own high. “Yeah, baby? Want daddy to fuck a baby into you?” Ellie cooed, a faux pout dangling on her lips. “Then you wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

You nodded, on the brink of being braindead. “Yes, yes! I wanna be leaking of you. Wan’ mama and daddy to breed me so badly, please!”

You were an incoherent babbling mess, your voice raw and rough as you cried with your noises of gratification. They easily had you at the tip, and were ready to push you all the way down, keep you sobbing.

“Fucking cum for us, fuck!” Abby demanded, dropping the gun, and let go of your throat. She laid her hands on your torso, her nails scraping against your skin, and you hissed to it. Wanton moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room, and a second hadn’t passed when your climax ran out of you, riding it out as the girls went on to fuck you.

You let them use you like a fucktoy until they had come to their own orgasm, stuffing their cum into you as a symphony of curses sputtered from their lips. All movements came to a stop, bodies trembling and sticky.

You had to internally keep yourself conscious, but it was seeming impossible. You collapsed onto the bed the moment you were unfilled with their cocks, letting them handle themselves before you.

You could feel a warm, wet rag running over your legs, and you stared up at the ceiling, your eyes lazily blinking. “We need to clean you up, sweetheart. C’mon,” Ellie said, and picked you up, carrying you into the bathroom.

The three of you shared a warm bath, sitting in the middle of them as they cleaned you up nice and well, being sure to be gentle to touch you. You had missed the sweet scent of them, or how their violent hands could be so kind to your body, chaste kisses being pressed on your spine and forehead here and there.

It took you a few years for you to figure out your purpose with them, and all that they did for you. It was more than enough. To many, it would seem insane of your justifications and reasonings to why they did what they did for you, but no one else's opinion mattered in the fact. They worshiped you, they devoted every inch and breath of themselves to your protection and well being.

This is all you wanted. You and them forever the rest of your life. If carnage and bloodshed had to present, then so be it; because as long as you had them there by you, it was okay.

It was going to be okay forever.

[pathologicalreid]

Can I please request protective Spencer x BAU!Reader who get "lightly" hurt or put in danger bc SWAT or local police made a mistake, and Spencer goes OFF on them. Hotch or Rossi have to calm him down because no one but the BAU knows theyre dating. I'd love to see protective Spencer if possible :)

no sign of danger | S.R.

when SWAT makes a mistake that puts you in danger, your boyfriend is... displeased

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: bloody nose, concussion, split lip, blood, mild violence. spencer reid says the f word. word count: 1.58k a/n: anon, not to be dramatic but something about writing this changed my brain chemistry. thank you for requesting!!! i hope you like it!

The time between arriving at a scene and when SWAT cleared the building was almost always intolerable. There were too many variables at play. It made you uneasy.

So, you waited, leaning on the side of an SUV with your Kevlar already strapped on, you turned to look at Hotch, “We’ve got an audience.”

Breadcrumbs that Garcia had picked up led the team to a house in a small town in Arizona. Unfortunately, the FBI garnered a lot of attention, and neighbors were starting to gather around the house. Hotch nodded, “Reid, JJ, work with the locals on crowd control, and make sure no one is recording. The last thing we need is for the news crews to show up.”

You offered Spencer a small smile as he turned to follow the blond to the barrier. He waved behind his back as he walked away.

Chuckling from right next to you got your attention, just to see Morgan shaking his head, “You two have it so bad.”

“I like to think we have it good, actually,” you said, flushing slightly. The teasing came with the territory, dating within the BAU meant never knowing a moment of peace – especially with Derek Morgan around.

There wasn’t an opportunity for him to respond, because as soon as he opened his mouth, your radio buzzed to life in your ear, “Building is clear. No sign of danger.” At the sound of the SWAT commander’s voice, you and Morgan surged forward to enter the building, Emily and Hotch following close behind.

Behind you, Hotch cleared his throat, “Morgan, Y/L/N, take the two rooms in the back, we’ll take the front.”

Nodding at your orders, you and Morgan walked past the staircase and to the opposite end of the house, where the kitchen and the den were. “This place looks like it’s been abandoned,” you thought aloud, dragging your index finger along the kitchen counter, and cringing when it came back covered in dust.

As you wiped your hand on your jeans, you looked up to see Morgan sorting through a vinyl record collection. “You’re right. It doesn’t look like anyone’s even entered this house in years.”

You hummed, opening the first cabinet you saw, wrinkling your nose at the discovery that the house also smelled like it had been abandoned. As you went to close the cabinet, the one below you swung open, the force of the doors almost knocking you to the ground.

Stumbling back, you saw a flash of hands before you were slammed into the refrigerator behind you. Immediately, you dropped to the floor, watching as Morgan tackled the guy and shouted for Hotch and Prentiss.

“We need an ambulance, Y/N’s down,” Emily spoke urgently into her radio while Morgan cuffed your attacker.

You winced at the way the radio buzzed in your ear; the way Emily’s voice echoed combined with the throbbing pain in your head made you nauseous. “What do you mean ‘Y/N’s down’?” Spencer’s voice rang through the radios, prompting you to haphazardly yank the coiled wire from your ear.

Everything sounded like you were underwater, Emily and Hotch asked you questions as the fog cleared from your head, “You’re bleeding,” Emily said, there was a worried look in her eyes.

Hesitantly, you pulled your hand from your face, just to see it covered in blood. You weren’t even sure how long you had been holding your hand to your face. “Can you stand?” Hotch asked you, his tone was concerned, but there was something else buried within it.

Nodding slowly, both of them helped you stand. Emily hooked an arm through yours when you stumbled slightly, she led you out of the house and to the ambulance. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Morgan place his hand atop your attacker’s head, protecting it from the top of the police cruiser.

As soon as you sat down on the back of the ambulance, an EMT handed you a towel to hold to your nose. Your eyes flittered up to see Spencer approaching the ambulance, but to your surprise, he turned at the last moment and faced down the SWAT commander. “What happened in there?” He asked, his tone wholly accusatory.

“It looks like the person of interest was hiding in the kitchen when your team entered,” Commander Polk answered, obviously thinking Spencer was just asking for a sort of status report.

Spencer shook his head, “We’re hunting for a serial killer, and you had the audacity to miss the presence of an entire person?” He asked incredulously, “Did you even clear the kitchen?” He pointed in the direction of the house, where Rossi and JJ were now entering to look around more.

The SWAT commander faltered for a moment, “Someone did, but it wasn’t me personally.”

You winced as the EMT prodded at your face, surmising that your nose wasn’t broken, just bleeding badly as a result of the blunt force of the refrigerator. She pulled your hand from your face so she could inspect for any further damage. You opened your mouth to talk, but the EMT was quick to stop you, “You shouldn’t talk, not until we can look at the cut on your lip.”

While the EMTs got more supplies out, Emily helped you take off your Kevlar vest, undoing the Velcro for you and gently tugging it off. The entire front of it was covered in blood, you winced at the sight of the now-red letters.

“You need to figure out whoever checked the kitchen and make sure they know what they’re doing,” Spencer said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Commander Polk’s demeanor instantly changed, “I assure you, agent, we take training our team very seriously. This was just a mistake.”

Even from this distance, you saw Spencer roll his eyes. “First of all, it’s doctor,” he corrected – at which you rolled your eyes. “Second of all, of course, you take training seriously, it’s mandated by the federal government. This was a mistake, a mistake that ended in the injury of a federal agent,” you looked from Hotch to Spencer, hoping your unit chief would do something before Spencer got punched by the SWAT commander. “SWAT making mistakes gets other law enforcement officers killed,” he continued.

“What’s your point, doctor?” The commander asked.

Spencer cleared his throat, “I’m saying you’re fucking lucky she didn’t get killed, or else-“

“Reid!” Hotch called, stalking over to where your boyfriend was nearly getting into a fistfight with SWAT. He muttered something unintelligible to Polk before dragging Spencer away by the elbow, “What was that?”

Your boyfriend threw his hands up in the air, “He needed to be made aware of their mistake.”

Sternly, your unit chief shook his head, “They are aware, Reid, and I assure you I’m not going to drop it and there will be an internal investigation into what went wrong.” He raised his eyebrows, “That being said, it’s not your job to take care of mistakes made by other people.”

“No,” Spencer agreed, “but it is my job to take care of her,” he said, gesturing over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance.

Hotch pointed around to the locals and other SWAT members, “They don’t know that, Reid.” He whispered, keeping his voice down so he didn’t expose your relationship to everyone in the Arizona town. “Let me take care of it,” was his final statement before he walked back to Commander Polk.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Spencer spun around and finally walked over to you. Emily nodded at you before stepping away, “Are you alright?” He asked.

You flashed him a thumbs up, gesturing toward the EMT, who answered for you, “We just glued the gash on her lip, so she can’t really talk right now. She’ll be fine though, maybe a small scar, if anything.”

“Good,” Spencer said, ambling over and taking a seat next to you. “I was so worried about you,” he murmured, and you watched as he restrained himself from touching you.

Humming, you leaned into him for just a moment. Your movement was intentional, but it was quick enough that any passersby would assume you were just unsteady.

The EMTs left once the glue on your lip dried, directing you to ice it periodically to help with swelling and handing you care instructions.

You were left with a mild concussion, a split lip, and ruined clothes. All things considered, you felt like you were pretty lucky. The rest of the team piled into the SUVs, you and Spencer sitting in the back of one with Hotch at the helm and Emily in the passenger seat. “Who knew Reid had it in him?” Emily wondered aloud, eliciting a small laugh from you.

“I can’t believe you almost got into a physical fight with SWAT over a split lip and concussion,” you said, smiling slightly, but stopping as you felt the glue on your lip tugging.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “It wasn’t over the split lip and concussion, it was over the abhorrent display of-“

“Reid,” Hotch said in his no-nonsense tone.

Your boyfriend slouched back in his seat, “So, maybe it was over the split lip and concussion.”

Closing your eyes, you reached over the middle seat and took his hand in yours, “Thanks, Spence.” You whispered so that only he could hear, leaning over the gap between you and setting your head on his shoulder.

please remember to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

[sanakiras]

LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

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

WORD COUNT — 17k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no, i don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that sparks your interest. “who?”

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

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

“what can you tell me about him?”

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

“anything else?”

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

“any particular reason why?”

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

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

“such as?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you proceeded to laugh in his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ii. THE HATRED WE BEAR

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

the funeral was long — too long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you hated your father. with all your heart.

but you grew to hate kim mingyu more.

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

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

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

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

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

“then what do you want?”

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

“please, just... i wanna help you.”

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

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

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

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

and for what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iii. ULTERIOR MOTIVES

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

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

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

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

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

“what does it say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“just tell me what you want already—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

since there’s still a culprit to be named.

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

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

iv. A PROPOSAL

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

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

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

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

so here you are.

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

you’ve become an excellent liar over the years.

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

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

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

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

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

but that day never came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

many consider you cold and calculated.

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

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

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

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

“it’s fine.”

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

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

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

“can i get you something to drink?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s strange. really strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so that’s just fucking great.

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

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

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

you exhale when realizing it’s the right key.

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

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

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

of course he doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that surprises you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

besides, you do feel up for a little adventure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

v. PARTNERS IN CRIME

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

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

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

so far, you’ve had zero luck with it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

god, you’re sick of him already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no one. supposedly.

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

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

nothing.

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

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

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

“hey. are you with mingyu right now?”

“yeah, why?”

“where are you?”

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

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

“he’s kind of—”

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

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

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

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

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

“right now?”

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

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

“we still do.”

“well, something’s changed.”

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

all he does is narrow his dark eyes at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

works like a charm wherever you go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yet his eyes are on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“is that a yes?”

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

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

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

such a shame that he’s an asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi. WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I

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

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

ventilation shafts.

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

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

“what’s wrong?”

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

“nothing.”

“what?”

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

“that’s plenty.”

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

“speak for yourself.”

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

“well… no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

curse him for using your words against you like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“just let go. i’ll catch you.”

“are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he’s suffocatingly close to you.

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

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

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

“you alright?”

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

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

“oh, yeah. sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you do this often?”

“eating in a cheap diner?”

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

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

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

“you don’t agree?”

“i didn’t say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“have you met you?”

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

“you wanna know something, mingyu?”

“yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he welcomes the challenge.

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

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

“i’d be sorely disappointed.”

“so you have high expectations of me?”

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

“tonight wasn’t enough?”

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

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

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

vii. FRIENDS CLOSE, ENEMIES CLOSER

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

“okay. do tell.”

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

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

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

“what’s wrong?”

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

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

“you sound a little too sure of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hide? why?”

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

“are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“and?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

what an idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why would you tell him that?”

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

“would that be so bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

the last sentence really grabs his attention.

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

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

“so you think i’m hot?”

“didn’t quite say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

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

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

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

“god, you’re so tough.”

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

“i never said i liked you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah. how’d you know?”

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

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

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

“sorry. had a rough day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you don’t show it.

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

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

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

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

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

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

“me? ‘m fine. why do you ask?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re not a bad person. he was.”

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

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

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

it was always supposed to be you.

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

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

“like what?”

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

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

“you’d find love for a bad person?”

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

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

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

“am i on that list too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the words intrigue him. “how come?”

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

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

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

when he silently nods, you continue.

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

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

because you don’t hate him anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he needs you.

“maybe we can be lonely together.”

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

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

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

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

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

it’s something that comes alarmingly close to love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

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

READ PART TWO HERE

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

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I keep rereading the overprotective poly marauders fic I love it sm 🫶 can I please request another one it can tie into casual dominance marauders if you want I don’t mind I just can’t get them off my mind. Thanks babe!!

Hi lovely!! So this went a bit off the rails, I had different intentions for it at first but then somehow it became very serious and the boys not so much overprotective as reasonably upset....all in all, I'm not super happy with it but I didn't want to throw it out, I'd be happy to write another overprotective one for you if you'd like!

cw: sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You walk out of your office feeling odd and off-kilter. Your mind seems addled, unable to complete one thought before jumping to the next, and something prickles just underneath your skin that feels like anger and shame and also like panic. 

Your boyfriends are waiting for you, idling at the curb. You’re supposed to go straight from here to the cinema, and you tell yourself you’ll feel better afterwards. Even if not, you have until Monday before you have to deal with this, if you deal with it at all. You may not. You’re not sure. You can’t think straight. 

“Hey, angel,” James says as you get in, and it’s immediately obvious your upset has already been noticed. Probably as soon as you walked outside, your boyfriends observing you through the car windows. Remus, in the driver’s seat, and Sirius, sitting beside you in the back, are both charily silent. “How was work?” 

“It was fine,” you reply. Your voice sounds off even to your own ears, but no one comments as Remus puts the car in drive. 

“Ready for the weekend?” James imbues his voice with a light sort of commiseration. You try to smile for him. 

No one is more surprised than you when a sob chokes you instead. You hide your face in your hands, tears already leaking out from between your lashes. 

“God, sorry.” 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sirius asks, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for you.

Remus pulls into a parking spot just by the exit and shuts off the engine, turning around in his seat.

“Baby.” Sirius wraps his arm around your shaking shoulders, squeezing tight. He sounds anxious. “Did something happen?” 

The worst of your crying passes like a summer storm, over as quickly as it started. Your emotions gone haywire. You lean into Sirius, and he clicks the buckle on your seatbelt for you, pulling you the rest of the way. 

“You’re scaring me,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. “Tell us why you’re upset, angel, please.” 

“I think,” you mumble, face and eyes burning, “my boss grabbed my butt.” 

You say it quieter than a whisper, but you know they’ve all heard. The silence that follows is so complete you could hear a pin drop. 

“What?” James asks. His throat sounds dry. 

You hear Remus sigh. “Oh, sweetheart.” The vinyl of his seat squeaks as he shifts. “When did this happen?” 

“Just now,” you answer. 

“Right.” Sirius’ arms had gone tense around you, but now they fall away completely. He moves for his door. “I’ll be back.” 

“Don’t,” you plead. You worry he will anyway, but Remus locks the doors from the front seat. 

Sirius cuts a glare his way, truly scary with the way wrath seems to gleam in his gray irises. He unlocks his door manually, and Remus locks it again. 

“We can’t be rash,” he says, his own tone sharper than you think is intended for anyone in the car. “We have to think this through.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Sirius snaps. James reaches behind his seat, taking your hand and rubbing comfortingly. “He’s just inside!” 

“You think I don’t want to go in there too?” Remus gives him a look that’s a short fall from incredulous. “But if we have to call the police, it won’t help if you’ve already had a go at him.” 

Your head spins. You hadn’t even thought of calling the police. You hadn’t really gotten past going to the cinema. 

“What do you mean, you think he grabbed you, sweetheart?” James' voice is pointedly kinder than the others. Remus takes a deep breath, calming himself. 

“I don’t know. I just—I feel like I can’t be sure—” 

“That’s alright.” Remus' voice is slower now. Soothing. “Why don’t you tell us how it happened?” 

“I, um.” You swallow. James strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I was looking at something on his computer, because he said he wasn’t getting my emails and I thought they might be going to his spam. He was sitting behind me in his chair, and we were talking and his hand, like, squeezed—” you shudder, your brain trying to shake off the memory “—and then he just kept talking like nothing happened. It was so fast I’m not sure it even did—” 

“Baby.” 

You don’t realize you’re tripping over your words until Sirius’ voice cuts through them. You look at him, and his eyes are already on yours, fierce but solid. 

“Did you feel him touch you?” he asks. 

You rub your lips together. “Yeah,” you murmur. 

Your boyfriend’s expression pinches, but his gaze is steady. “Then he did. Trust yourself. You know what happened.” 

This provokes another wave of tears, less tempestuous than the first but somehow more painful. You wouldn't have expected any one of your boyfriends to blame you, not if you’d thought about it, but you haven’t had time to think yet and the relief that they’re so wholly on your side makes your heart feel cracked open. 

“Dove, I’m so sorry,” Remus says. He’s frowning, a well-worn line etched between his brows. You hate to put it there. “What do you want to do? Do you know if you can contact HR?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, pliable to Sirius’ ministrations as he tucks you securely under one arm and uses the other to thumb at your salty cheeks. “I feel a bit silly. It was a small thing, I don’t think it’s worth a bunch of fuss.” 

“It’s not a small thing,” says James, uncharacteristically severe. “It’s a big thing—a really fucked up thing, that he did—and it’s worth a lot of fuss. A lot.” He leans around his seatback, pressing a firm kiss to your hand. “It’s just a matter of how much fuss you’re willing to go through with, sweetheart. It’s up to you. We can go through HR, we can go to the police. There’s still the option of just going in there and roughing him up to be sure it doesn’t happen again.” He smiles wryly. It looks like it takes effort. “I’m very game for that option. We know Sirius is ready.” 

Sirius makes an affirming humph sound against the side of your head. You try to smile back at James. 

“I think maybe…HR?” Your voice is tentative. “I have a friend, Marcella, who I think would be nice about it.” You realize as it comes out of your mouth what a low bar that is, but that’s the reality of your situation. 

“Do you know if she’s still here?” Remus asks. 

You feel your brow wrinkle. “I think so…” 

Remus unlocks the doors, and James gets out. You barely manage to squeak out a “Wait” before the door shuts behind him. 

You turn to Remus. “Where’s he going?” 

“To find Marcella,” he says. “It’s better that they know when it’s just happened, dovey, but you don’t have to deal with it right now. That’s why James is going instead.” 

You nod. It makes sense, even if the reality of it all makes tears press at your throat again. 

“My sweet girl.” Sirius holds you tight, mashing a kiss into the side of your head. “I’m so sorry this happened, baby. I’m sorry we weren’t there to protect you.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmur, turning in his arms to hug him properly. He seems pleased with this development, and squeezes you ferociously. “You can’t always be with me. And it’s not your responsibility.” 

“Careful what you say.” Sirius seems to muster up some humor, a teasing edge to his tone. “I’ll get us one of those big shirts so the four of us can fit in it together, and then you’ll never be rid of us.” 

“It’s our job to look after you,” says Remus, firm but kind. “It’s true we can’t be with you all of the time, but I’m glad you felt comfortable telling us this. Thank you, sweetheart.” 

You’re about to dismiss his thanks when James gets back in the car, this time in the back seat instead of the front. 

“Did you see him?” Sirius asks immediately, scooching the both of you over to make room. 

“No, he must’ve left right after her.” James looks unhappy, but his touch is gentle as always as he takes your waist in both hands, easing you off of Sirius’ lap and into the seat between them. Sirius sighs but doesn’t complain, likely knowing he’s had more than his fair share of your comfort. 

“Marcella was nice, though,” James says. “She arranged for you to have the morning off on Monday, and she’ll call you then to hear from you what happened. We can be with you, if you like.” 

“Monday.” You blow out a slow breath, though it doesn’t do much to keep your throat from contracting in panic. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you.” 

“No worries, angel.” James rubs your thigh, watching you carefully. “You doing okay?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” Your voice squeaks, and you cover your eyes with a hand. Sirius whines and kisses your shoulder. You try to laugh, but it comes out wet. “I think this might just keep happening for a while.” 

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Remus coos, reaching out a hand to set on the top of your head. He scratches at your scalp with his fingernails the way he knows you like. “It makes sense to be upset. We’ll get you through this, alright? Let us look after you for a bit.” 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

F.I.N.E || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x teacher!reader Summary: When your student gets injured and you can’t get hold of her parents you try call an old contact number hoping he can help. Warnings: slight angst, fluff WC: 3.4K

Max frowned at the unfamiliar number calling him. If it wasn’t for the fact it was a local number he would have ignored it but since few people had his personal number he decided to answer it. Immediately he was hit with the sound of high pitch cries and a soothing voice softly singing a lullaby that eased the knot of anxiety that had formed in an instant. 

“Hello, is this Max?” you asked when you realised the dual tone had stopped and the call had been answered. You shifted the child carefully on your lap and grabbed the old enrolment form to see the name again. “Max Verstappen?”

“Maxy?” the girl in your arms echoed with confusion.

“Yes, who is this?”

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m one of Penelope’s teachers. There’s been an incident and I found your number under her emergency contact list.”

“Oh no, sorry, there must be a mistake. You should call her mother or father. I’m not, we’re not, um, I shouldn’t be on that list anymore.”

You cringed as another piercing cry deafened your ear and you rubbed the little girl's back. “It hurts,” she whimpered.

“I know, sweetheart, someone will be here to get you shortly,” you replied softly and you hoped it was the truth. “Look, Max, I’ve tried every other contact number and no one is answering. Is there any way you could come down here? At least until I can get in touch with someone else.”

Max pinched the bridge of his nose but when he heard P’s shuddering cry he knew he had to go. “Okay, I’ll be there shortly.”

Max didn’t care if he got a parking ticket, he took the loading space right outside the preschool building. He likely would have gotten a speeding ticket too in his rush to cross the city but thankfully there weren’t any police in his path. 

“Maxy!” 

Penelope wriggled in your arms as she spotted the stranger walking into the classroom. His eyes immediately found her and he crossed the space to where you sat holding her.

“Hey, P,” he greeted with a smile and knelt down at your height. “What’s happened, bug?”

Her little eyes welled up again as she lifted her bandaged wrist. “I fell off the playground.”

“I don’t think anything is broken but I would suggest having her doctor check to be sure.”

“I don’t know who her doctor is. I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

“You’re contact details were-”

“Those must have been from when she started. Her mother and I haven’t been together for a while.”

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry to put this on you. I swear I tried every other phone number we have.”

Max nodded and his sigh sounded exhausted as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I just need to make a call. I’ll be back in a minute, bug.”

Max walked along the room, looking over the children’s artwork as he pressed his phone to his ear and waited. Eventually the call went to voicemail and his spine straightened tensely. “Kel, I’ve picked up P from daycare and I’m taking her to the hospital. Call me when you get this.”

You could see the man was stressed when he returned and his short hair pointed in all directions from the hand he kept nervously running through it. It was cute.

“Daniil is in Italy this week for work,” Max said as he returned to your side and picked up Penelope’s Prada backpack before opening his arms. “I’ll keep trying to get a hold of Kelly. Come on, bug.”

Lunchtime was coming to an end and children were starting to file back into the room, a few of the older ones stopping at staring wide eyed at Max. He was tall but not that tall or formidable to draw such a reaction but your question was answered when one of the boys ran to his picture on the wall. Timothée unpinned the drawing of a race car and ran up to Max, holding it out with a pencil.

“Sir, can you please sign this?”

Max looked used to the attention and took the pen with a polite, “Sure.” He stared at the picture for the moment after signing it and chuckled. “Is the RB20?”

Timothée nodded eagerly. “It’s my favourite.”

“Mine too,” he said as handed the picture back and smiled as it was crushed happily to the boy's chest. Max then carefully picked up Penelope, slowly so she wasn’t jostled, and his arms brushed yours. 

“If you need anything you have my number,” you reminded as the weight was lifted from your lap. “Children can be a little overwhelming if you’re not used to it.”

Max smiled fondly at Penelope and shook his head. “This isn’t new. I still have her room set up.”

“You do?” Penelope asked hopefully and Max turned his head as he cursed to himself. “Are we going to live with you again?”

“No, no, sorry, P,” he said softly. “I just haven’t had time to redecorate.”

“Oh.” You both winced at the defeated tone and you knew the fresh tears had nothing to do with her arm this time but you were saved by the bell as it spurred Max to toss the bag over his shoulder and look to the door.

“I hope you feel better soon, Penelope.”

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you,” Max echoed with a nod before departing.

All afternoon you were distracted with thoughts of the two of them until the final bell rang and you grabbed your phone. You had sporadically tried to contact Daniil and Kelly again but the calls went straight to voicemail every time and you found no returned calls.

Y/N: How is Penelope? Max: She is happy watching The Little Mermaid. She has a sprained wrist and the nurse complemented the bandaging so you should be proud. Y/N: And how are you? Max: I’m fine.

Max swore as the pot of water boiled over and he hissed as he grabbed the handle to find it was just as hot. He dropped his phone reaching for the teatowel and then P started calling out from the living room complaining that the movie was boring - the same movie she watched a thousand times and she had specifically asked for.

Y/N: My mentor used to tell me that stood for: freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Are you sure you are fine?

After turning the stove down to a simmer and wiping up the mess of water that had splashed across his floor he went and changed the movie to what would hopefully last longer than ten minutes before she changed her mind. Taking another attempt at making dinner, he grabbed a bag of pasta from his pantry and poured its entirety into the pot.

Max: I’m thinking I am definitely neurotic and possibly starting to freak out. Y/N: I couldn’t have that on my conscience. My offer still stands if you need some help. Max: You don’t have anyone you need to get home to? Y/N: My cat prefers his own company unless he’s hungry and he’s already been fed today so no. Max: I don’t want you to go out of your way. Y/N: I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing to follow through. Let me help. Please?

Max smiled at his phone before sending his address and looking around to see how tidy the place was. His jacket was tossed on the table instead of being hung up and Penelope’s bag was spilled across the entryway floor, not the first impression he wanted to make.

You entered the port address into your phone and locked the classroom behind you, feeling a little unsteady at the thought of seeing Max again. Penelope was a sweet child and she seemed comfortable with Max but you hadn’t really ever heard her talk about him before. You told yourself the only reason you were going there was to check on your student's wellbeing, but a small part of you wanted to see Max again.

You wondered if maybe he hadn’t heard your knock on the door or that you had the wrong apartment and you rapped your knuckles on it again before he called out. There was a crash and then a groan close to the door before it swung open and Max balanced on one leg.

“Uh, is everything okay?” you asked as he clutched his foot.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he rushed before he caught the teasing curl of your brow and he froze before a smile grew on his lips. “Right, freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional.”

“You’re a quick learner.” You stepped inside at his invitation and he closed the door behind you while you rushed towards the burning smell in the kitchen. “Oh, wow.”

“Fucksake,” Max grumbled as he grabbed a wet tea towel before reaching for the tray of garlic bread in the oven. “Ouch, shit!”

“You said a naughty word,” Penelope called out from the next room like it was something that she regularly commented on. “That's another 20.”

Max sighed heavily as he looked at a jar on the bench that was already filled with cash. “Shit.”

“I heard that.”

“Shouldn’t you be watching your movie?”

You giggled at the amusing conversation before turning the tap to cold and taking Max’s hand. “Wet towels and hot trays make steam.”

He watched you guide his hand under the water and flinched as it hit the burn mark on his palm. “I don’t usually cook, if you couldn’t tell.”

“The life of a bachelor. Keep your hand there.” You moved with ease around his kitchen trying to save what was left of dinner but paused at a huge pot of pasta that had swelled up and pushed the lid half off. “Are you expecting a dozen other people?”

Max shrugged innocently. “I didn’t know how much to put in.”

“Well the good news is the top half is edible,” you stated after finding a colander and draining the pasta until only a thick layer remained stuck to the bottom of the pot. “Do you have any sauce?”

“Sauce?”

“What were you going to have with it?”

“Garlic bread.” You both looked at the charred sticks still smoking on the baking tray.

“Do you mind?” you asked as you pointed to his fridge and the cupboards around the kitchen.

“No, please. Go ahead.”

You checked the fridge first and you were pleasantly surprised to find it well stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables. “Do you live off salads or does all this go to waste?”

“Neither, my nutritionist comes by twice a week and he prepares the meals.”

For a moment you had forgotten his profession. You had googled his name after Timothée couldn’t stop talking about meeting the ‘Max Verstappen’. “That must be intense, and restricting. Does your social life suffer?”

“It’s not so bad. I still get to go out for dinner and have a few drinks when I want.” He started to pull his hand out from under the water but you tutted and caught his wrist, holding it back beneath the cold stream.

“Keep still,” you warned with a voice you saved for children who weren’t listening. “It needs 20 minutes under there.”

“You want me to stand here for twenty minutes?”

“No, science wants you to stay there for twenty minutes.”

“Are you a teacher or a nurse?” he asked with a playful roll of his eyes.

“Depends if it's halloween.”

His loud laugh made you smile and you eased your grip on his hand one finger at a time to see if he would stay where he was. He did. “I’ll behave, Miss Y/L/N.”

“You can call me Y//N.”

“I kind of like calling you Miss Y/L/N.”

You checked to see if he was serious but thankfully there was a teasing smile on his face before you returned to the fridge to gather some ingredients.

By some small miracle dinner can’t have been too bad since everyone cleaned their plates of the pasta, though you thought they were likely being polite since you could still taste the hint of smoke from the bottom of the pan. Penelope had spent most of the meal asking Max if he remembered what they used to do when she lived there, how they used to go travelling and shopping. You got to see first hand how much patience the man had as he answered each question despite how it made him uncomfortable.

“You miss her,” you commented after she had gone back to the tv. Max started to collect the dishes with you and sighed as he placed them in the sink. 

“It was a big change when they moved out,” he spoke quietly and you stepped closer so you could hear better. “She kept asking if she did something wrong.”

“That must have been hard for you.” His eyes widened and you wondered what shocked him, but you had a feeling it was the fact someone showed concern for him. Even though you didn’t know the details of the break up, it was clear he had and still did care for Penelope and you felt sorry for him. “Can I hug you? I’m a hugger and I feel like you could really do with one.”

“You want to hug me?”

You tried to shrug it off casually. “If you want to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Everyone needs a hug sometime.”

“I do,” he said quickly, very quickly, before he cleared his throat. “I mean, I-I wouldn’t mind a hug.”

You smiled at his tentativeness and stepped into his personal space, slipping your hands into the narrow openings between his limp arms and his body to curl around his waist. It took a moment for him to respond before his own arms embraced the comfort and curled around your back too.

“You smell really good, Max,” you complimented as you rested your head on his chest and caught the scent of his cologne.

“Thank you,” he chuckled, the amusement relaxing him even more until his entire body curved into yours. “I think you have playdough in your hair.”

You hummed in agreement. “Highly likely. You wouldn’t believe the places I find that stuff at the end of the day, glitter too.”

His bold laugh made you smile and you didn’t care it was at your own expense, you were just happy to know it was because of you. Unfortunately you didn’t have the chance to hear it again as his phone rang from the countertop and you saw Kelly’s name light up the screen.

“I should let you get that,” you said as you stepped back, instantly missing the warmth and his scent. “I’ll go keep Penelope company.”

Max waited for you to leave the kitchen before he accepted the call, his calm state evaporating in an instant. “What the hell, Kelly? Where have you been?”

“My phone was on flight mode, I was on a plane. Is P okay?”

“Her wrist is sprained but she’s alright now.” Max pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself to breathe. “Why would you leave her alone?”

“She wasn’t alone. Maria was meant to pick her up after school and I should have been home in time for dinner but my flight was delayed.”

“Who is Maria?”

“Her nanny.”

Max had to suppress the groan at the news. He knew Daniil hated the idea of a nanny and he had offered to have more custody so that P would be raised by her parents and not a stranger, but Kelly had vetoed that idea.

“Do you want to go out for dinner? I owe you.”

“No, we’ve already eaten.”

“Some other time then.”

Max made a non-committal sound, his eyes darting to the living room where he watched Penelope explain the movie to you. You were so attentive and patient, asking questions that had Penelope thinking deeper and using such a simple interaction as a learning opportunity. He could see why you suited being a teacher.

“Maybe,” he lied, “just let me know when you’re almost here and I’ll bring P out to you, I don’t want to confuse her any more.”

“Right, of course,” Kelly sighed. “I’ll see you soon, Max.”

Max made the most of the time he had left with P, abandoning the dishes so he could sit on the other side of her and watch the movie about a chef rat. She had cozied into his side with a yawn and nudged his arm until he eventually draped it over her shoulder. It was completely innocent but you couldn’t help noticing the heat of his hand touching your arm, the warmth spreading like wildfire.

The fire was doused when his phone vibrated and the moment to leave had come.

While he grabbed Penelope’s backpack, you grabbed your handbag and prepared your own goodbyes. It was silly to feel sad the evening had come to an end but you knew that you would likely never see Max again. You weren’t famous and he didn’t have children, your paths weren’t meant to cross.

“Have a good weekend, Penelope,” you said as you knelt down and gave her a hug. “I’ll see you bright and early on Monday.”

“Bye, Miss Y/L/N.”

You rose to your feet wondering where you stood with Max until he opened his arms. “Anytime you need a hug, you have my number,” you offered as you stepped into his embrace, no matter how unlikely that prospect was.

“Or if I’m feeling fine?”

You giggled and nodded against his chest. “Especially if you’re feeling fine.”

The walk to the elevator was slow, as if no one wanted the strange evening to end, but there was no stopping time as it began making its way down from the penthouse to the ground floor. The doors opened and you instantly spotted Kelly in the reception area, her elegant and effortless beauty reminding you that you still had playdough in your hair.

With one last look at the man beside you, you gave him a small smile and stepped away. “Goodbye, Max.”

He didn’t respond as you headed to the valet area but he pulled his phone out of his pocket and yours vibrated a moment later.

Max: Are you okay?

Y/N: I’m fine.

Max: Me too. Emotional, you?

Y/N: Insecure.

Max: Want a hug?

You stopped and turned to see Max hand Penelope’s bag over before struggling to separate the girl from where she clung to his leg. She didn’t know, couldn’t see how it was hurting Max, but you could. So you waited, and when the mother and daughter had departed you stepped into the elevator with the subdued man, slipping your hand into his.

The elevator rose quickly and you watched Max’s throat bounce with the deep swallow he made before he choked out a broken, “Fuck.”

“I feel like I should remind you about the swear jar,” you teased as you bumped your shoulder gently against his arm. “But I’ll let you off this once because I have a soft spot for you.”

He looked down at you from the corner of his eye and you saw some of the sadness fading from them. “Does that make me the teacher's pet?”

You gasped dramatically and clutched your chest with your free hand. “I could never bestow such high praise after just one day.”

“What are your plans tomorrow then?” he asked with a smirk as the doors opened and he pulled his house key out of his pocket.

“I don’t have any.”

“Lovely, now are you going to answer my question?” He stepped inside the apartment and opened his arms. “Did you want a hug?”

Your smile chased away more of the shadows in his eyes and the last of it was erased when you stepped into his arms with an eager nod. “I will never say no to a hug.”

His chest bounced with a laugh and you felt him rest his cheek on your head with a contented sigh. “That is very good to know.”

[goldsbitch]

You texted...

Y/N and Lando are going through a rough patch in their relationship. Not really on speaking terms. This bad streak ends when there is a massive spider in her bathroom.

angst, one shot

The moment she spotted that creature sent from hell, everything else went out of the window. The dinner in the oven, the fact she was planning on doing a late night session in the gym, the fact her hair was still wet from the shower. The fact she and her boyfriend Lando were on "not speaking" terms.

Y/N was absolutely terrified of spiders her whole life and was never able to over come the fear by getting rid of them on her own. Lando was the one who always ever so kindly rescued her, he overtook this role her neighbor, who overtook it from her mom, who Y/N had trained to react immediately when she heard a very specific scream.

Now she was standing in her apartment, alone with nowhere to go, since her job was to stay frozen at one spot and stare at the creature, in case it moved, and not really sure who to call for help. Her best friend was the first option. Normally, it would have been her boyfriend, but something was stopping her from doing that.

"Come on, come on, come on," she whispered as she dialed her best friend living close by. "Pick up, dammit."

Finally, the tone she was praying for. "Hey, girl, what's up?"

No time for chit chat. "You have to come over now, immediately."

Her friend noticed the immediate distress and tuned herself in. "What's wrong?" she replied, sounding as she was ready to dial the police.

"There's a spider situation going on in my apartment."

"Uhm, I see," she said, more relaxed now, but still taking it seriously.

"It's huge, with like hairy legs and shit. You have to come over, now. We have a deal, remember?"

Her friend was equally terrified of mosquitoes, so they agreed that Y/N would deal with those while spider duty fell on the other lady. This has happened many many times before. Usually ended up with a nice girls evening. Ever since Lando appeared in Y/N life however, the emergency calls stopped.

"I thought Lando was around this week?" her friend asked curiously. "Not that I'm trying to get out of this, but I'm sort of like an hour away from you, so..."

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh. "Fucking hell...Yeah, we're not exactly speaking at the moment," she admitted.

"Wow, that's a first!?" her friend said, clearly surprised. "Why?"

"Look, I'd love to chat, but are you coming or not? There's no one else and I'm not calling Lando!"

"Yes, yes, I'm getting in the car, just let me say good bye to my friends here, we're having a picnic," she replied and muted voices of disapproval came from the background.

Y/N felt guilty about doing this, but she'd dropped everything she was oing for her friend many times, answered phone calls in the middle of the night even though she was an early bird. They just had this kind of friendship.

"Drive fast, please," she said, still stubborn and not about to call Lando.

//

Y/N sat there staring at the spider for good ten minuted before her friend called again.

"Ok, I'm in the car, you can talk about Lando now, keep me busy. I'm going to pass over the fact you and your boyfriend are fighting and I have no idea," she said unapologetically.

"Figured you'd be mad about that. Yeah, he's been acting like a bit of a dick..."

"But you're not broken up, right?" her friend asked, slightly worried about her favorite couple.

"No, I don't think so. I hope so," she realized, the spider in the corner becoming lesser of her problems.

"And what seems to be the problem? Did he cheat?"

"No, not that I'm aware," she replied without thinking.

"Did you cheat?" her friend asked, ready to support her in anything.

"Jesus, no. It's um...I dunno, we've just grown a bit distant. Lately it feels like I'm like at number 50 of his priorities list. It's always only racing, Quadrant, promo event this and that."

"That's shitty, yeah. Would you like to be included? I know you hate things like promo events and such."

"I do! But honestly, I miss him so much and frankly I'd like to be more included in his life somehow. Especially now that I have more time in my life."

"Does he know that?"

"No?"

Her friend let out a deep sigh. "Hm. You have to untangle that. It would be stupid to break up over that."

"Yeah, I'd hate that," she said, panic setting in.

"Text him to come. To save you from the spider. It's a nice excuse and good test. To see if he cares."

"I'm scared. What if he does not respond?"

Few moments of dramatic silence. "Well, at least you'd know."

"Yeah. Ok. Sending it." Y/N quickly typed something up, trying not to overthink it.

"What did you text?"

"Can you come over asap? I need help with a spider. It's urgent."

"Nice. Now you'll see what he does."

They stayed on the phone together for good half an hour. Catching up and distracting Y/N from the fact there was no text from Lando coming her way.

//

A doorbell rang.

"You're here already?" Y/N asked her friend, surprised by her ability to drive this fast.

"Nope, still very much far away. Did I hear a bell? Do you think it's him?"

"I dunno. I'll mute you and if it's him I'll hang up, ok?"

"Gotcha."

She opened the door with a heavy heart. What if it was not him?

But it was. Flustered Lando stood there without saying hello. The two shared a pain-filled look, neither of them enjoying this no contact streak they had.

"You came..." she said finally, ending the phone call.

"You texted..." he said dryly and in full macho mode entered her apartment without being let it. "Can you point me where?"

"That corner," she simply pointed, flushed with emotions. Happy that he came to rescue her, sad about his loveless tone and scared of what was to come after. She watched him from afar, as he skillfully took the spider and threw it out of the balcony.

"Don't say anything about him knowing his way back, please," he said, hinting on the countless debates they'd had before about Lando not wanting to kill every spider they'd encounter.

The air suddenly went very heavy. Lando casually headed to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water while trying so hard to make eye contact with her. The last time they spoke was few days prior - and it was not a nice conversation. Lots of built up emotions got out, frustrated speeches made and confusing sentences jumping one after another. Ending with Lando slamming the door on his way out.

She had no clue where to start. "So, how have you been?" she asked, not sure she was ready for his answer. He finally looked at her, and then with an annoyed eye-roll went back into staring out of the window.

Y/N threw her hands up in the air as the familiar feeling from few days ago kicked back in. "Ok fine, sorry I asked. Thank you so much for your help, truly appreciated, but if you hate being around me, just say so that we can-"

"We can what?" he cut her off, not having any of that.

"I don't know, you tell me!...I'm getting lost at trying to read you," she admitted, not even trying to hide anything from him at this point.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "I don't think I listened to you," he sighed before continuing, "Or more like did not hear what you were saying."

The validation felt rewarding. But she feared what would come next.

"What I heard at that moment was you not respecting my lack of time and the fact that things I'm involved in are important to me."

She took a breath and planned on interrupting him, which he noticed and tried to stop.

"Let me finish, please. But thinking about it, I figured that's not the case, and you were simply pointing out that I've been putting off spending time with you. Which you're absolutely correct. I figured since we've been going to strong lately, this would be fine. But truth is I hate this distance it created. I feel lost, uneasy and unable to focus," he blabbered something, which felt like he might have even rehearsed on the way to her. "What I'm trying to say is - do you still care enough for us to fix it?"

It felt vulnerable, raw and maybe even uncomfortable to have these kinds of talks. But this is ultimately what cements a relationship.

Feeling like he managed to destroy some of the wall they'd put up, she took few steps towards him.

"Lando, of course I do. It's not a rare event that I imagine our future life together, as a couple and one day potentially as a family. Never had this feeling before in my life. Please, let's figure out a way how to prevent the distance from happening. Things have changed now, the relationship has too. We've been together for almost two years. And my love for you has only grown."

He finally smiled, relieved that they seemed to be on the same page.

"I came right from the tennis court, left everyone behind. Would you like to go there with me? Hang out with the Quadrant squad for a bit and then have a nice dinner somewhere? I just want to spend this evening with you."

"And the night hopefully," she teased, trying to ease the mood.

"Always the night, it was absolutely horrible, knowing you're so close to me, yet having to sleep without you."

She closed the distance between them, embracing him into a hug. They bodies were more than familiar with each and it felt right to be that close. Definitely better than each of them standing in a different corner of the room.

"We still have to talk about this. I don't want our love to slip through by our fingers," she said, letting her anxiety out.

"We will. Tonight, we'll come up with a plan. Can you join me on few races later this month?" he asked, hoping for a positive answer.

"Of course, my love. I have to buy new clothes though, the cameras are savage."

He chuckled, relaxed now that he did not have to worry about having lost her. "Yes, they are."

She later call her friend to thank her for dropping everything and driving to save her, even though it was not needed in the end. Her friend was more than happy that she and Lando seemingly found the way back to each other.

She also admitted that she turned back the moment Y/N sent her text to Lando, knowing that this guy would come running anytime his girlfriend asked for help.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Family Friend

Prompt: Jack Hotchner is arrested for underage drinking and the first person he calls to bail him out, is you.

It was almost 2 in the morning when you received the call.

"Y/N?" You heard the familiar voice of Jack Hotchnner's voice speak. He sounded small and almost scared.

"Jack?" You sat up in bed, immediately awake. "Are you alright?"

"I did something stupid Y/N. My dad's gonna kill me."

His words were slightly slurred and slow, imitating that of someone who had been drinking a lot. A million scenarios went through your head as you sprang out from under the covers, rushing to put on a change of clothes, holding your cell between your shoulder and ear.

"What happened Jack? Where are you?"

"I'm in jail. They said I could call someone so I called you. I know my dad is out of the state on a case, please don't tell him," he pleaded.

"Honey, I have to, he's your father. But we can talk about it when I get there. What jail exactly are you at?"

Once you were decent, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

"Fairfax I think- Oh God, Y/N, I'm so stupid, I don't even know why I was there. I-

"Jack, sweetheart. Don't say anymore, I'm headed to you now alright? Just sit tight."

He sniffled and let out an intoxicated hiccup. "Ok."

Hanging up, you dialed Aaron's number and put it on speaker as you got into your SUV, driving in the direction of the jail. The call picked up on the third ring and Aaron's sleepy voice mirrored your concerned tone from earlier.

"Y/N? Everything alright?"

"Jack just called me. I guess he's been arrested in Alexandria. He's fine, he's safe, but he did sound like he had been drinking. I'm on my way to pick him up now."

"What? Did he tell you what happened?" You imagined that he was doing the same as you, getting out of bed and dressing to catch the soonest plane out.

"No, I didn't want him to tell me over the phone. I can call you back once I get there and talk with him, I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Thank you. I'm on my way as well." His voice was low and slightly gruff, telling you that he was pissed but trying to conceal it. You'd memorized all of his subtle tone and posture changes over the years of knowing him, having spent the better part of those years as one of his underlings before transferring units.

"Don't worry about it tonight Aaron, I've got it. You've got a case to solve."

Luckily, all of the lights were working in your favor as you had yet to hit a red, bringing you closer to Jack sooner.

"The team will be fine without me. I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning."

You knew there was no stopping him. He was as stubborn as a mule and you honestly couldn't blame him when it came to the fact that his son was just arrested for God knows what.

"And Y/N. Thank you. For being there."

You were glad he wasn't there to see the slight blush creeping into your face at his words as your voice spoke calmly, a strong opposite of what you were feeling.

"Of course Aaron. I'll always be there for you guys."

Your words lingered in the back of your mind after the both of you hung up, silently mocking your lovesick emotions. For years, the both of you had always kept your friendship that of which it was. A friendship, nothing more. As much as you may have wanted it to be something a little more...intimate. There were times you thought Aaron may have felt the same, by the way he looked at you just a second longer than necessary or how protective he'd get whenever he found out you were going out on a date. But he never voiced such sentiments to you, if he had any at all, causing you to bury your own.

It seemed to be the night that everyone was being arrested as you walked into the police station and towards the booking desk.

"I'm here for Jack Hotchner, he was brought in sometime tonight," you stated to the officer. She gave you a once over before typing into the computer, presumingly looking him up.

"Oh yeah. Looks like he was picked up from a neighborhood party for underage drinking. He's in the drunk tank. Hasn't stopped crying and telling everyone that his father is a FBI agent. That true?"

You sighed at the dramatics she described and sighed before answering. "Yes he is, and I'm Special Agent L/N, a family friend." You flashed your credentials, satisfying her interest and continuing on with the process of bail. 500 dollars later and a short phone call to Aaron to update him on everything, they delivered the still very drunk Jack Hotchner to you.

He practically ran into your arms, crying. "Y/N, I'm so sorry."

If you weren't such a sucker for the kid, you would've been giving him a very stern lecture on his reckless behavior. But you were a sucker and all you could do was hug him back tight and speak gently. "You're alright, I'm just glad you're safe. C'mon, let's get you home."

You thanked the cops and left the building, Jack following close behind obediently. Once the two of you were in the car and on your way back, you decided to have a few words.

"This can't happen again, Jack. You know that, right?"

He seemed to be fading in and out of sleep but was coherent enough to give you a nod of acknowledment.

"Just because you're not in jail anymore, doesn't mean there won't still be a punishment. You broke the law and your dad is not happy about that."

Suddenly at the mention of his father, his eyes sprung open in alarm.

"You told him?"

"Of course I told him Jack. He was planning on flying back the minute I told him the news but I managed to get him to at least wait until tomorrow so you can sleep off the alcohol and he can have some time to calm down. You're welcome."

He threw his head back, cringing his face, making you believe that he was gonna start crying again. "He's gonna kill me."

"Well I highly doubt that sweetheart but I'll be there just in case, to make sure the both of you stay calm, alright?"

He groaned in acceptance and you shook your head smiling at his childlike behavior.

- - - -

Using the spare key Aaron gifted to you a few months back, you helped Jack into his house and led him into his room. Flopping onto his bed and passing out almost immediately, you sighed before straightening him out and taking off his shoes, then covering him up with a blanket and turning out his light.

You knew he was fine to be in the house by himself, but still you stayed, taking minimal space on the massive sectional couch and covering yourself with a throw blanket, noticing how it smelt faintly of Aaron. It didn't take long for the sleep to find you.

- - - -

You woke up with a jolt as the sound of the front door closing echoed in the quiet house, sitting up and catching Aaron's eye. He seemed surprised to see you as he walked over to the dining room table and set his keys and briefcase down.

"Sorry I woke you. I didn't know you spent the night," he spoke softly, loosening his tie.

"Yeah, I didn't want to leave him here alone in the state he was in. He must've had a lot to drink."

A sigh escaped his lips while running a hand over his face, his expression looking tired and overworked. You could only imagine the stress he went through being a single father and Unit Chief as well as the toll it took on his mind and body. Getting up, you folded the throw blanket neatly and walked over into the kitchen, deciding to make the both of you a pot of coffee.

"I don't know why he's so out of control lately. Last week the school told me he's been skipping classes and receiving detention on a daily basis."

You figured Jack was still sound asleep considering that it was only 7 in the morning so there was no chance he'd hear the two of you talking.

"He's not out of control Aaron. He's just being a teenager. A teenager that lost his mother and barely sees his father, he's bound to act out a little."

You prepared the coffee, knowing exactly where everything was, having done these motions numerous times before. Some of your best memories with Aaron were ones where the two of you shared a pot in the late night and talked about anything and everything, just enjoying each others presence. You pushed away the momentary thought and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet.

"I just wish I knew what to do," he sighed. "He's getting more and more distant from me and I feel helpless about it."

You turned to face him, settling you hand on his arm, grabbing his attention. "Just be there for him. And tell him that. He'll come around eventually. He just needs to work through the emotions he's feeling."

He didn't answer but continued holding your gaze, a flicker of something behind his eyes that made you subconsciously hold your breath. "Thank you Y/N. For staying." His voice was soft- tentative almost. You watched his eyes glance down at your lips momentarily, the air now thick with tension. You stood there frozen as he took a small step forward, bringing his body closer to yours and his head tilting down to compensate the height difference.

"Aaron.." you whispered, his name almost spoken as a warning, worried that if he crossed whatever boundary there had been, he'd regret it and that would be the end of your friendship.

"Am I reading this wrong?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer. He didn't lean in any further though. Didn't make a move to kiss you but his close presence was plenty. You could smell the cologne he would wear every once in a while, making your head dizzy.

"I just don't want you to regret this later on," you admitted to him, fearing he's end up agreeing with you. Instead, to your surprise, he reached a hand out to hold your cheek in his hand, making your eyes flutter shut briefly.

"The only regret I have is not doing this sooner." He leaned in, capturing your lips in his which you were more than happy to reciprocate. The kiss was everything you had dreamt it be. He was gentle, loving almost, in the way his arm came around your waist and slowly pulled you in. There was no rush, it was just you and him in the quiet house, everything else forgotten about, including the teenager who had unknowingly left his room to walk right into the living room, seeing everything.

"It's about time," he interrupted, making you practically jump away from Aaron.

"Jack." Your response was breathless, Aaron succeeding in taking it away seconds before. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so early."

You turned to step away from Aaron, which he allowed, but still kept his hand resting on your waist, a small knowing smirk on his face.

"Just because you were right about this, doesn't mean you're off the hook," Aaron said, making Jack roll his eyes lightheartedly. You spun to Aaron with a look of shock.

"Have you two been conspiring about me?" You were surprised of course, but also flattered that Jack felt so comfortable with you to talk with his father about his romantic feelings towards you.

Aaron shrugged his shoulders in admission. "Maybe just a little bit," he said, the tiniest of a blush creeping up his neck. "I just wasn't expecting for it to happen this morning, especially after all the chaos."

"Which I'm totally sorry for, Y/N. Thanks for coming to get me," Jack added. You walked over and brought the boy in for a tight hug that he pretended to not enjoy but eventually gave up and hugged you back. "I'm just glad you're safe and hopefully learned a valuable lesson," you spoke, pulling him back and giving him a once over. "Also, how are you up at 7 in the morning? If I had as much to drink as you looked like you did, I'd be dead till at least noon."

He chuckled and ran a nervous hand through his hair, something you noticed Aaron also did on occasion. "This wasn't my first time, Y/N. I've been drunker."

You gasped and looked over at Aaron who could only shake his head in disapproval but ultimately already knowing about it.

You turned back to Jack. "Well this time, it won't be just your father in charge of punishment. I'm gonna have some say in it as well. I know Spencer has an upcoming lecture on the Theory of Relativity this week. I think it'd be very informational for you."

The horrid expression on his face was exactly what you were looking for. "What?! No! Please, not uncle Spence's lectures. I'll do community service, babysitting, anything but that," he pleaded to his father, who threw his hands up in surrender but didn't lose the amused smile.

"I think it's a great idea. Consider that the beginning of the punishment as well. Now go get showered and dressed, you're gonna come with me to run some errands."

Groaning in disapproval, he did as he said and walked off down the hall to his room. You felt the warmth of Aaron come up behind you and pull you in, resting his head on your shoulder, arms around your stomach. "Good idea on the punishment," he praised, kissing your cheek.

You chuckled while moving to face him, a look of jest in your eyes. "Oh, you're not in the clear either, mister. I think I deserve a proper date after the secret scheming you and Jack have been up to."

The gaze of tenderness and affection glimmered in his eyes gave you butterflies and the ultimate need to pull him in for another kiss. You honestly felt like you could kiss the man forever.

When you both pulled away, he spoke. "How about tonight? I'll pick you up from your place around 6? You could wear that dress you've been talking about wanting to wear."

A big smile appeared on your face at his words, excited for the evening. You stayed just a little longer, sharing a cup of coffee with Aaron, giving some drunk advice to Jack before you all parted your separate ways. Knowing you'd see the both of them so soon, filled your heart with joy and the smiled never faded the whole drive home.

[heartfullofleeches]

"License and Registration?"

Shit.

Seven clowns packed into the seats of an old beat up van. As if luck turned a blind eye to their favor, the crowded space was messing its final member. Stress levels at an all time high through the group, the two clowns capable of descalating the situation they've found themselves in had the fortune of sitting up front that evening.

"Is there a problem, Officer? You must forgive us if our driver here went a tinsy bit over the speed limit. We lost track of someone dear to us and its getting rather late, you see-"

As the driver of the vehicle stares the police officer down, observant of the officer's intriguing in a small, retingular device in hand - a voice chases their ear from the backseat.

"Red- We're wasting too much time here. Mime could be seriously hurt for all we know. There's no other cars around so they're probably on foot and alone. Use Pink's gun if you have to."

Orange swiftly ducks behind Red's chair as a sharp snap rings throughout the quiet night. The officer picks at their lip, jaws in perpetual motion as they chew; absent-mindedly scrapping bits of gum off the corner of their mouth. From the bill of their cap draped over their face, it almost appeared as if they were scratching at nothing.

"Officer. How is your evening going so far?"

Beads of sweat line the officer's neck as they shift, angling their body away from its previous placement against the side of the van. Trembling fingers press at the device gripped tightly in their palms.

"License and Registration?"

There's something odd about their tone of phrase. Spoken in the exact same pattern and robotic droning as before.

"Wait a fucking second...."

Rolling the windows down, a hand snatches the officer's cap before they're given the chance to flee. Startled, the officer drops their device as they take a few steps back - shoes letting out a small squeak with every fall. What upon first speculation seemed to be a walkie-talkie turns out to be a tape recorder.

"Mimey?!"

Your chest rises and falls rapidly with silent laughter as the remainder of the group peek outside the windows to get a look.

"Mimey, what the fuck?! Blue nearly had a heart attack when you disappeared- Get your ass in this van right now!"

Muffled whimpers join the symphony of a fist banging against the windows.

"I'm so glad you're okayyyy."

"That's Mimey?...Arrest me first, officer~"

"Naughty little mime.... This type of behavior calls for punishment. I gotta say you do look... delicious in that outfit..."

Yellow is the last to speak as few of the gazes from the windows turn predatory.

"Twenty second head start sound good to you, Mimey?'

Stealing your cap back from Orange, you bow to your partners in crime - barreling off into the darkness as all four doors unlock simultaneously.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Reader being anxious about JJ getting on the bike since the accident in season 3. Maybe it’s during the bike competition? He promise her he won’t do anything stupid that would get him hurt, but he’s JJ so things always turn to shit

Request: being John b's sister and dating JJ when he's doing that motocross competition. He does it to earn some money back

I have not seen season 4 yet, so I have no idea of the context of the race, so don't come yelling at me because it's not what happened in the show. I also decided to not make it go to shit, because that one accident was enough trauma

Warnings: slight ptsd, JJ making stupid jokes, mention of motocross accident (season 3),

—

‘’I don’t like this...’’ 

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you stood by JJ and his bike, getting flashes of the accident and the utter distress you felt when you couldn’t find him after he fell over the overpass. You never wanted to relive that type of emotion again. 

At your reaction, JJ grabbed your arms, his voice dropping to a soothing tone. ‘’I know you're worried for me, but I need to do this. If I win, I’ll get a lot of money…and make up for spending most of the gold money on my old house,’’ he explained, trying to calm your worries. His eyes shifted to Pope and the others. ‘’No one’s gonna be mad at me anymore.’’

You understood his reason for signing up for the competition, but you couldn’t support it. There had to be something else he could do. Not a fucking motocross competition. Anything but that.

‘’I’m gonna be fine,’’ he added, lifting your chin and looking into your eyes. ‘’This is just a race in the sand, not a police chase.’’ 

That earned him a glare. 

‘’JJ, the last time I saw you on a bike—’’  Your voice faltered, the knot in your stomach tightening painfully.

Realizing his joke fell flat, JJ pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, trying to calm you down. Sometimes he wanted to smack himself for saying stupid things…

The crash haunted him too, no question about it. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a surge of panic when he lost control of the bike and tumbled down the overpass. But it was different for you — you had watched it happen from Topper’s truck, helpless as he fell. You and Sarah screamed for him, only to receive no answers. You thought he had died from the crash. 

Too soon to your liking, a loud noise echoed over the speakers, calling all racers to the starting line. You reluctantly pulled away from JJ and walked off with Kiara, linking her arms with yours in silent support.

You went up the stands to find seats, taking the spot beside your brother. You gripped the edge of the seat as you glanced at the racetrack, then the starting line where JJ sat on his bike, revving up with the others. You’ve been trying to prepare yourself mentally for weeks, but you don’t think you’ll ever be ready to see the boy you loved getting back on a bike that almost took his life.

‘’Don’t worry, he’s got this,’’ John B. said, wrapping an arm around you. He smiled, but you could see the flicker of concern in his eyes too. You all knew what happened last time, even if no one was saying it out loud. ‘’And he’s got protective gear this time.’’

Injuries can still happen with protective gear. You’ve read about it online. 

You could barely breathe as the starter raised the flag, and the crowd fell into an anticipatory hush. JJ pulled down the visor of his helmet, a familiar cocky smile tugging at his lips, then the flag dropped.

The race exploded into motion. The bikes shot off, kicking up a massive cloud of dust. The roar of engines filled your ears, drowning out everything else. Your heart raced faster than the bikes on the track as you gripped the bench beneath you, your knuckles going white.

Kiara followed JJ with her eyes, her voice loud enough to cut through the noise. "He's in third already!" she shouted, trying to add some enthusiasm.

''Come on, JJ,'' Pope added, looking almost just as nervous as you. 

Your eyes stayed glued to JJ, weaving between riders as the pack hurtled toward the first turn. Every bump, every jump had you holding your breath, afraid that any second things could go wrong.

It was impossible not to relive the accident in your mind — the way he flew over the edge, the bike spinning out of control. But this time, you tried to push those images aside, focusing on the present, on him. You needed to believe he could make it through.

The first turn came up fast, the riders leaning hard into it, and your heart lurched as JJ took the inside path, overtaking the guy in second place. The crowd roared, and for a moment, the adrenaline made you forget your worry, just watching him race.

Although this bike brought back bad memories, it held good ones too. All the times you’ve sat behind JJ and held onto his waist as he sped through the streets of Kildare…and the muddy shortcuts. When he tried to teach you how to drive it, but you ended up making out while you were sitting on the bike instead. John B. would kill him if he knew. 

By the third lap, JJ was neck-and-neck with the leader. The crowd around you was on their feet, yelling and cheering, but all you could focus on was JJ, pushing his bike harder, faster, determined to take first place. 

‘’Oh my god, he’s in first!’’ Sarah shouted as he took a turn for the final lap, getting caught up in the excitement. ‘’Come on, JJ! One more lap!’’ 

Your pulse hammered in your ears as he flew toward the line. The guy on the blue bike was trying to go past JJ, the bikes barely separated by inches, but JJ was still leading. 

And then, in a flash, it was over.

JJ crossed the line, just a split second ahead.

Around you, everyone was jumping and cheering while you stood there. A mix of excitement, relief and joy washed through you, together a strange and confusing cocktail. Kiara wrapped her arms around you, a wide grin on his face, and everyone else joined, celebrating JJ’s big win. All the anxiety and fear suddenly melted away, replaced by pure excitement. Your hands were shaking but your heart was pounding with adrenaline and happiness. 

As soon as you could, you all made your way down the stand, wanting to congratulate JJ. You pushed your way through the throngs of people until you finally caught sight of him. He was still in his racing gear, including the helmet, but he had taken the visor off, and you could see his face glistened with sweat. 

You ran toward him, a wide grin on your face, but before you could say anything, he saw you and pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground. 

''I told you I would win,'' he said, mirroring your grin. 

You squealed in surprise as your feet left the ground, holding onto him tightly. The familiar scent of sweat, adrenaline, and just a hint of motor oil filled your nostrils, evoking a mix of feelings. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx   @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife   @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue   @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker   @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage   @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc   @pedrosprincess   @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb   @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom   @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey   @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld   @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble   @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius   @buckyswhxre @emerald-09   @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey  @ynmunson @riddle18  @love4ldr @withfireandbl00d @wonderland2425 @blublock404 @eddieslut69

[luveline]

If you have any interest, how about a Spencer blurb where he's off on a case and gets or misses a late night call from the reader and is super worried, only to call them back and find them drunk and missing him. And of course the team rags on him after.

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

Spencer looks down at his phone and goes ghostly white. 

"What?" Emily asks. "They had a sale at Waterstones and you missed it?" 

Spencer clicks a bunch of buttons on his phone and brings it to his ear, crushing limp hair to his neck. "Seventeen missed calls," he says. 

Derek comes to the rescue, though the lightness in his voice is slightly forced, "Don't panic, wonderboy. Who wouldn't be eager to talk to you at… two AM?" 

"Is that the time difference?" Emily asks, leaning forward in concern. 

Even Hotch puts down his pen. The team listens to the phone ring. It loops, loops, loops, and everybody breathes a sigh of relief when you finally answer. If something happened to you Spencer wouldn't survive it. Nor after everything he's already been through. 

"Hey?" he says. There's a gap of silence. "Y/N, are you there?" 

"Spencer!" 

Spencer turns away from the table they've congregated at and looks through the open window at the parking lot, police cars roaming in and out of spaces. "What's wrong?" 

"I miss you so much." 

Spencer's nose wrinkles of its own accord. "Yeah? You sound odd. Are you– are you drunk?" 

Derek laughs. Like marionettes held tight with strings suddenly cut, the team stop their stressing and send each other knowing, amused looks. 

"Just a little bit!" you promise, clearly lying. Your voice catches on the syllables like they're coated in sticky honey, the slightest slurring tripping you up at the end. "We went for– to Chilli's. I had a blooming onion and seven margaritas!" 

"I can tell." 

"I'm really sorry, Spence, I know I'm not s'posed to call when you're away," you begin. 

Spencer glances back. Rossi and JJ have returned with coffee and a late dinner, neither of them bothering to act as though they aren't listening to the conversation. 

"No," Spencer says, turning back around and hunching inward, "that's the opposite of what we talked about, isn't it? You can call whenever you want to, but I can't, you know, always answer. I thought something bad happened. Maybe next time you could text me?" Rather than call almost twenty times and give him a heart attack.

Laughter echoes from behind. They team act like a teasing family sometimes, Spencer their teenage son who's never dated. 

He would fluster if you weren't talking to him in loud but loving tones, "I can barely walk, texting wasn't happening. I'm para-spelgic." 

"You're not," he says, firmly at first. "Are you? Who's with you? Is Rebecca there?" Rebecca being your best friend. Spencer trusts her to take care of you.

"She was, but she said that I– uh… She said I talked about you too much and made her nauseous. I feel kinda sick, too, but I just needed to talk to you, Spence. I miss you. I miss you, are you home soon?" 

"Is Rebecca really not there?" he asks. He thinks about the room full of special agents he's standing in and drops his voice to a murmur. "I miss you too." 

"She's making toast or something." 

"That's good. It'll soak up the margaritas." 

"I don't want toast, I want you! Please come home safe, angel. I really wish you were here to do that thing with my ear." 

Spencer has to give in. You're speaking so loudly it's impossible the team hadn't heard it, but he can't find the will to be embarrassed any longer. You're drunk and ridiculous and all you can think about is him.

"I wish I was home, too. Do I need to worry about you? Make sure you're drinking water, okay? Alcohol makes you dehydrated, you'll get a bad headache." 

"It makes me miss you," you whine. 

He smiles fondly. "There's no cure for that." A door opens over the line. "Is that Rebecca?" 

"Yeah." Murmurings. "She says sorry for letting me get so drunk, but she didn't let me do anything. It's like you always say, Spence, I can do whatever I set my mind to." 

"And you set your mind to getting drunk at Chili's." 

"Exactly!" 

You talk a little more before he hangs up. He knows you're getting taken care of. 

A gaggle of smiling faces greet him as he turns around. "Everything okay, 'angel'?" Derek asks. 

Spencer puts his phone in his pocket. You'll text him in the morning with a hankering for Tylenol and sore eyes, but you'll be fine. "Everything's great." 

[rafecameronssl4t]

(for DCC!reader) Can you do something inspired by that moment in the last chapter of the documentary, where someone inappropriately touches a cheerleader? If the same thing had happened to reader, how would Rafe act? 💌

In the spotlight || nfl player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reaader

A/n: that ep made me so sad for Sophy :( she deserved so so much better

Warnings: mentions of SA, swearing if theres anything else lmk

Word count: 1,408

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“And my phone—” Kelli starts, but Judy interrupts her, her tone urgent and filled with concern. “Somebody’s inappropriately touched Y/N, and she’s in the hallway talking to a policeman.”

Kelli freezes, absorbing the shocking news, her mind racing with a hundred thoughts. “They told me to let you know. She’s right here in the hallway,” Judy continues, her voice steady but insistent.

“Who?” Kelli asks, her heart pounding. “Y/n—” “No, who?” Kelli interrupts, her voice sharper now. “A cameraman inappropriately touched her. She’s identifying him and giving a statement to the police right here in the hallway,” Judy explains, her words rapid but clear.

Kelli immediately gets up from her seat, her legs moving before her mind fully registers the action. “Does Coach know?” she asks as they walk swiftly toward the hallway.

“Yes, he does,” Judy assures her. Kelli exhales deeply, trying to steady her nerves. As they reach the hallway, another woman approaches Kelli. “Y/n just went back out to dance,” she informs, her eyes darting toward the policeman escorting a cameraman. Kelli’s eyes narrow as she immediately assumes it was him.

“She said that while they were walking back out to start the third quarter, he touched her inappropriately. She gave her statement to the police,” the woman continues. Kelli nods, her concern for Y/N’s well-being etched on her face.

“So they’re talking to him. She asked to press charges.” “They’re what?” Kelli asks loudly, straining to hear over the loudness of the stadium. “Y/n asked the police that she wants to press charges,” the woman repeats firmly.

“She does?” “She does, so she’s back out doing her dance for the third quarter,” the woman confirms as Kelli turns to Judy, her expression troubled. “She probably shouldn’t be dancing if she’s really upset.” A policeman approaches them, looking serious. “Are we 100% sure that was him?” he asks. The woman nods. “She pointed to him and said that was him.”

“Then we need to pull her. She doesn’t need to be dancing. I’ll grab her,” Kelli says firmly, She strides out onto the field, her eyes scanning for you among the cheerleaders.

Kelli walks along the sidelines, her eyes scanning the cheerleaders until she spots you dancing. She can immediately tell from your expression that you’re visibly uncomfortable, even though you’re trying to mask it with a practiced smile. Kelli’s heart aches for you, the worry gnawing at her insides.

Kelli has always taken pride in ensuring the girls’ safety on the team, and when things like this happen, she feels as though she has failed you. Her protective instincts kick into high gear as she moves closer, watching you intently.

As the dance finishes, Kelli is quick to walk up to you, wrapping a secure arm around your shoulder. She pulls you slightly away from the other girls, her presence a comforting shield. You lean down to hear what she is saying. “I’m gonna take you inside, sweetheart. The police wanna talk to you,” Kelli’s voice is calm and steady, trying to soothe you. You nod, grateful for her support.

“Are you okay?” Kelli asks as the two of you make it inside the hallways where it is quieter. “Yeah, I’m fine. It was more that I was taken off guard, and I’m still kinda shaking from it,” you reply, a tear sliding down your cheek. Kelli wipes it away gently, her touch reassuring.

“Okay, well, I’ll grab you a jacket—” Kelli’s cut off by the sound of Coach Johnson’s voice. “Y/N!” he calls out as you turn your head to see your dad moving past people to get to you.

“Dad—” your voice is cut off as he engulfs you in a tight hug. And that was when all the tears finally came out. The overwhelming emotions you had been holding back burst forth. It was all such a blur when it happened. You were just doing what you always did, walking into formation when you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist.

You were very shaken up; you didn’t know how you managed to continue performing without breaking down. “I heard what happened, are you okay?” your dad asks in concern as he strokes your hair, kissing the crown of your head as you let the tears roll down your face.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay, I think. I’m just so shaken up still,” you manage to say, squeezing your dad tighter as he sighs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there—”“Don’t apologize, you’re here now,” you say, pulling back as he kisses your forehead.

“Here, here’s some water,” Kelli comes up with a water bottle as you gratefully take it from her. “The police are in there waiting for you,” she gently says as you nod, taking a deep breath as your dad tucks stray pieces of hair behind your ears before you walk back into the room.

“Coach!” Both Kelli and your dad turn their heads to see Rafe running down the hallway.

~

“Yo, what the fuck’s going on over there?” Chris taps Rafe on the shoulder, pointing towards you, engaged in a tense conversation with a policeman The grand arena is buzzing with game day excitement, but you look visibly shaken, your usual confident demeanor replaced by an unmistakable distress.

Rafe furrows his eyebrows, confusion and concern etched onto his face as he scans the scene. “I don’t know,” he mutters, distracted by the sound of the whistle signaling the continuation of the game.

But Rafe’s mind is not on the game at all. His eyes constantly dart towards where you stand, the unease growing within him. He watches intently as Kelli approaches you, leading you back inside the stadium corridors.

Rafe’s worry intensifies, his need to know what the fuck is going on becoming unbearable. A few minutes later, he notices Coach Johnson, your dad, rushing off the field with an urgency that confirms Rafe’s worst fears.

Determined to find out what’s happening, Rafe breaks numerous rules by swapping places with his teammate, assuring him he’ll take the blame for the unauthorized switch. Without a second thought, Rafe sprints off the field, heading towards the hallways in search of you.

~

“Rafe, what are you doing here?” your dad asks, his voice tinged with both surprise and concern as he sees Rafe enter the inner corridors of the stadium.

“I swapped with Justin. Where’s Y/n? Is she okay?” Rafe’s voice is laced with anxiety. Coach Johnson, momentarily overlooking the rule-breaking, focuses on the more pressing issue at hand. “She’s talking with the police right now, Rafe.” He sighs deeply as Rafe’s face falls. “What happened?”

“A cameraman touched her inappropriately out there—” “What?” Rafe’s voice rises, anger surging through him at the thought of anyone laying a hand on you. “Are you fucking serious?” He moves to charge past Coach Johnson, but is quickly restrained by both him and Kelli.

“Whoa, whoa, Rafe. Let’s think before we do anything stupid, yeah?” your dad says, his tone calm but firm, attempting to ground Rafe’s escalating fury. Rafe is breathing heavily, his eyes locked on the door to the room where you are.

“Listen, why don’t you wait here until Y/n gets out. I’m sure she’ll appreciate you being out here for her,” Kelli suggests, placing a reassuring hand on Rafe’s shoulder. He looks at her, his anger slowly giving way to concern.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do that,” Rafe says, swallowing hard as Coach Johnson pats his back in approval. “Good man,” your dad says, his voice filled with gratitude for Rafe’s loyalty and concern. As Rafe waits anxiously, the bustling sounds of the stadium seem to fade away, his entire focus on making sure you’re okay.

As Rafe waits anxiously, the bustling sounds of the stadium seem to fade away, his entire focus on making sure you’re okay. Moments later, the door to the room where you had been giving your statement to the police opens. You step out, your eyes red and teary, your face etched with the strain of holding back emotions.

Rafe doesn’t hesitate. He strides forward and immediately engulfs you in a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you as if to shield you from any more harm. He couldn’t care less if anyone saw the two of you and took pictures of it. You collapse into his embrace, the tears you’ve been holding back now freely flowing.

[bluerosefox]

A Fair Warning

It was only a matter of time, and a long awaited and well deserved comeuppance, when Joker tried to hurt the wrong person or people.

Not everyone was going to play his games like 'Batsy' does. Not everyone will hesitate or let him live should he put his hands on someone to hurt them. Not everyone will believe Arkham could 'fix' him, he just needed more time and help.

No.

This time Joker bit off more than he could chew when he kidnapped the newly hired Arkham psychiatrist Jasmine Fenton (and he had plans, so many plans, for her. With her mixture of Harley's mind and her looks matching Gordon's daughter would sure to cause some chaos and pain in memories) and the girl's visiting sister Danielle 'Ellie' (and did he laugh when he noticed the 'Wayne' adoptive looks the girl had, on the fun he'll have, maybe he'll beat her the way he beat the second Robin just for funzie's, it'll no doubt upset Batman) from Jasmine's apartment.

He had plans to keep the Bats guessing where he was and by the time they reach him it'll be far to late for them to save either of the two girls, he had just sent the little video he taped to the Bats and the police to get the ball rolling...

So...

So why did a shiver run down his spine for the first time in years when they both looked unafraid (it was their eyes that made him shiver, a look of already dead yet somehow alive, something he never seen before. He's seen the light fade from people's eyes before yes, he's even laughed as he watch people desperately cling onto life only for it to fade into nothing as they took a final breath but never have he seen someone, something alive yet dead at the same time before. It, their eyes, held a natural yet unnatural sense as they stared at him, stared at everything that made him Joker and it unnerved him), honestly they looked very bored, and one of them (the youngest of the two, and the one with more of the look of death than life in their eyes) said with a chill tune in their tone.

"Last chance to back out of this Freakshows Reject. You wont like what'll be waiting for you."

The tone alone was enough to send another bone deep chill down Joker's spine.

But instead of listening to his natural instincts, the deep inkling of run blaring at him, Joker merely placed a grin on his face, ignoring the strain he felt from doing so, and said as nastily as he could in order to scare the two girls (BOTH OF THEM STILL LOOKED BORED WITH HIM?!?! Not even a twitch of fear!)

"OH? And pray tell what is awaiting little ol' me hum?"

His mocking question got a wide feral grin from the smaller girl, a grin with sharp teeth and iris eyes beginning to bleed slowly from sky blue to neon green with each second he stared at her and he barely stopped himself from jumping in his spot when Jasmine answered his question.

"Your end."

-x-x-

By the time the Bats get to the warehouse Joker had taken Dr. Jasmine 'Jazz' Fenton and Danielle 'Ellie' Fenton they were prepared for anything and everything to go wrong. As much as they held the tiniest bit of hope that the two young women were still okay they knew better than to really do, this was the Joker that had them after all.

They had manged to narrow down his location much quicker than normal when they gotten Joker's first video and his little 'game' he was setting the Bats on, most locations he gave them were going to be red herrings or traps to keep them busy and it would had worked. Batman and the others would had been searching for hours for even a hint of the clue of where the Joker and his hostages were actually being kept.

It was nearly, not really, a shame all of Joker's plans went to waste when Red Hood had stumbled onto something when scooping out Jasmine's apartment with Red Robin.

You see, not only were they looking for clues at first but something about the apartment Jasmine rented seemed off, Red Robin noticed it first and called in back up encase there was more to oldest Fenton than what they could dig up (oldest daughter of Dr's. Jackson and Madeline Fenton, grew up in a small Illinois town, straight A student and a goal to become a psychologist, has two younger siblings, etc etc) and their suspension raised up more when the moment Red Hood entered the apartment and seemed to freeze for a moment.

Red Hood couldn't really explain it but he said it felt like something was... strange. Not evil bad danger strange but it felt familiar? Like he was a kid again on the streets and had walked into someone else's territory but knew the person wouldn't be too much of a hardass about it as long as he didn't stur up trouble or disrespect. A kind of... as long as you don't fuck around you won't find out feeling.

It was because of this feeling that Jason had manged to stumble across something in the room, his instincts telling him there was more to it, and they had discovered a clunky old custom PDA hidden away in a false floorboard in the office room. Thankfully Red Robin, was there in person because the old thing apparently had a rather ingenious firewall to keep others (aka Hackers) OUT but it did nothing against someone who held the main thing.

But still it took Red Robin almost frying the damn thing to get to open up, turns out the ghost and star stickers on the PDA was a rather large hint of the pass code. Once Red Robin was in the PDA he noticed some rather interesting files, one of them labeled "Gremlin Tracking" with a tiny green blob with red eyes and a green outlined star as the icons.

Curiosity taking a hold on the most curious of the Bats he opened it up, hoping it would need another password, and watched as the screen split into two maps, one was... strange, there was no land marks or anything but the star icon seemed to be right in the middle of wherever it was and the only hint of anything was the name "baby brother" and the map labeled as IR.

The other one showed an above map of Gotham, before zooming into the city, heading towards some abandoned warehouses Red Robin knew of and stopped right at one. This was the green blob icon, the short abbreviation for Gotham in the corner of the map, and the name for the icon was 'baby sister'

Red Robin immediately got onto coms to tell the others of what apparently was a tracker for Jasmine's younger siblings. Some questioned why the young woman had trackers on her siblings, though some of the others snarked back that "oh didn't know keeping trackers on each other wasn't normal. Mind if I loose the one you got on me than?"

After a quick sweep into the warehouses camera feeds, the very few up that could be accessed, done by Oracle they quickly discovered that yes the tracking on the younger girl of the two, Danielle Fenton, was correct and that was where they and Joker were at.

Despite this, Batman decided that in order to make sure Joker didn't have suspicion that they already know his actual location he made sure to send a few of the others to the fake locations.

So here they were now, staking out the warehouse where they could see a few of the Jokers goons walking around and looking for a way into the building without alerting any of them. As they talked low into coms, Robin mentioning a possible way in for Red Robin by how small it was, Red Robin hissing back a "just because you got a growth spurt doesn't mean you can poke fun at my height you little-"

"Wait!" Red Hood suddenly hissed shouted, his tone startling the rest of them and they all turned their heads to him. Batman made a quick and harsh grunt as a way to say "report."

Under his helmet Jason's eyes were wide and wild. He could feel something, something huge was on the rise, like something was out of sight but the energy of it was felt.

And if Jason could feel it from his spot, the Jokers goons all felt the same thing from the way they all dropped their weapons, turned toward the warehouse and looked ready to bolt like scared animals.

Jason opened his mouth to explain but fell silent when the feeling suddenly popped. Whatever was causing the feeling was here and like the calm before the storm he could only watch as the first drop of rain fall.

The next thing they know, was the noise and the screaming.

It was inhuman, a mixture of noise and sounds to hard to explain. The closest they could explain was a thousand voices coming in all at once mixing with radio static that kept changing volume so only few words could be even hinted at, and the angry cawing of crows along with the flapping of their wings as they took flight. The noise was so bad that many who heard it nearly ripped their coms out, or covered their ears. Thankfully it only lasted a few seconds.

Then, the air itself shifted. It felt like the coldest of winter nights and bone chilling shivers ran down their bodies for a moment. The air was suddenly that sharp cold that hurt to breathe sometimes.

The goons surrounding the warehouse fled in fear. Many scrambling to get far, far away from whatever was happening. If they felt even a fraction of what Jason could feel, he could understand. He honestly felt like a small animal cornered by a predator and there was no escape.

Then just as suddenly as it happened, everything shifted again. The noise of Gotham returned to normal, cars honking, a stray cat hissing or a dog barking, police sirens in the distance, hissing steam from a nearby factory. The air went from winter cold to a chill mid winter harbor feel now.

Once everyone registered what had just happened and not wanting to waste anymore time they bolted towards the warehouse, cautious and alert in case they needed to fight. Batman went in first, quickly making his way to the area he knew Joker would be with the Fenton sisters and wondered just what the fuck was that? Did Joker do something? Was he messing with things outside of his usual MO?!

He walked into the room and stopped.

There was nothing.

The room was in fact the room Joker had used to record his first message to them, the layout was correct and the evidence of two people who had been tied up were still there as well, ropes that weren't cut sitting on them, a lone lamp light above shining down from above no doubt to emphasize the two girls were meant to be the 'stars' of Jokers latest show. Thing was, the two weren't there despite the fact Oracle swore she could see them a few mins ago from a camera set up in the room, she would later explain that she heard the noise as well and that all her tech had glitched hard.

The only other thing in the room was, sitting innocently on one of the chairs was a green sticky note and on a tiny pillow was a tiny sickly green orb with hints of purple, white, and red swirling in it.

A note they would later read the following message written on it after carefully examining it over.

'Joker learned not to touch what is mine to protect. Sorry not sorry, but hey one less killer clown and he was warned not my fault he didn't take it seriously... The massive amount of souls wanting to rip apart the Joker's soul into nothing was quite a sight to be honest.

They were so ruthless. Best not mess with the vengeful dead am I right?

PS. I left a tiny gift for Jason Todd aka Robin Two. It's the tiniest piece of Joker's soul left over after everyone else got done. He can finish it off since he's a reverent and all, and well they need their revenge filled in order to peacefully move on later or else they'll be stuck forever in a loop of madness and revenge. So yeah. Hope he likes the gift.'

D.P.'

It took Jason less than a second after those words were spoken out to reach for the orb, ignoring the cautious and alarmed cries of the others, and could feel deep, deep, deep in his own soul the absolute pure weeping joy as he threw the orb onto the floor, the bottom shattering thus it didn't roll away and stomped hard with his reinforced boots. Crushing the broken orb into more pieces and if one listened closely they could hear the pure screaming terror that came from it.

And Jason for the first time in years felt his rage finally leave him.