#i not only need to get given another pd but i need to train her up without her dying

[hearties-circus]

What do we do now?

[homoose]

Through the Smoke

Request: could you do spencer x bau reader where they aren't dating yet but they both feel for each other? where both spencer and reader are very closed off people and the whole team knows that. but after one rough case on the flight back, they're both just exhausted mentally and physically and seek comfort in each other. then spend the night at reader's apartment and kiss for the first time there. sorry if this is specific but thank you (:

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst with a happy ending

Warnings/Includes: typical CM stuff, cults, kidnapping, violence, etc.

Word count: 8.1k

Music recs: Through the Fire by Jake Etheridge and Margot Todd; scared by Jeremy Zucker

a/n: anon, I have no idea if this is what you were looking for, but this is where it went. It’s a generous rewrite of 300, substituting the reader for Garcia. Also this blog operates with the understanding that the season 14 jeid arc does not exist lmao. JJ is firmly in the “I love you as a brother” camp and I will not be taking questions at this time. Also, this is a reminder that my requests are open! send me some fresh ideas, head cannons, rambles, whatever! 

———

“Metro PD and the Bureau have been made aware of the Believers and possible activity following their leader’s arrest,” Prentiss confirmed, looking out over the team mingling in the bullpen. “But taking Theo at his word—”

“We only arrested three. There’s probably more out there, but if they follow cult dynamics, they’ll break down on their own without the messiah,” Matt finished.

“Typical cults: you think it’s a cast of thousands when really it’s just four whackos sitting around in the dark,” Tara mused.

Prentiss smiled. “I think we deserve some decompression time, and Rossi’s kind enough to host.”

Rossi leaned over the railing and nodded. “And I have some top shelf wine picked just for the occasion.”

The team started gathering their belongings and heading towards the elevators. Y/N hesitated, looking toward the case file still sitting on her desk. Something about how this had all wrapped up just… didn’t sit right. Her nearly five years with the Critical Incident Response Group had given her an up close view of some of the most prolific cults in American history. She’d studied Jonestown, Waco, Ruby Ridge, Liberty Ranch; new cults emerged onto CIRG’s radar regularly. And there was something about The Believers that just didn’t add up.

Y/N began shuffling things around on her desk, trying to look busy. She caught Spencer and JJ out of the corner of her eye, talking quietly. They ended their conversation with a hug, lingering just a little longer than Y/N would have preferred. She shook her head to try to physically clear the thought from her brain. She knew that Spencer had been through a lifetime’s worth of trauma before she joined the team, and that JJ had been an integral support for him. Y/N was also aware that she had zero grounds to be concerned with any of Spencer’s relationships, romantic or otherwise.

“Y/N, you coming?” JJ asked, walking toward her desk. Spencer headed out of the bullpen and down the hall.

Y/N gave her a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit. Just wanted to finish up a couple things here.”

“Well, don’t stay too late.” JJ pressed her lips together for a moment before adding, “Maybe you and Spence could drive together. He said he might not make it, but if he had some company...”

Y/N hoped her immediate flush wasn’t too obvious. After nearly a year in the unit, she finally felt like she had built some solid relationships with the team, and Spencer was no exception. She relished their card games on the jet, the laughs over too-sweet coffee, discussions about books and films and music. But she also adored the way his hair sometimes curled and fell into his eyes, his animated and rambling tangents, the way his hands traced over the tiny print of his books. Most of her adult life had been spent surrounded by men who would gather up her trust in their pitted hands and crush it on a whim. She’d kept her heart behind glass for a long while, but Spencer was slowly chipping away at the fragile panels. She was certain he had no idea that he was even holding the chisel; but just about everyone else seemed to have figured it out. JJ, with her hands clasped together and an eager smile, definitely had. Y/N smiled, too. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“So we’ll see you in a bit?” When Y/N nodded, JJ gave her a warm smile and headed out.

Turning back to the case file, Y/N pressed her fingers to her temple and looked over the documents. Some of the pieces fit together, but the whole case felt littered with gaps and holes. The tale that Theo had woven about The Believers seemed true enough— his parents were simply the suppliers of potential cult members. Although, she still couldn’t figure out the reason for the kidnapping and torture. There were much easier ways to recruit vulnerable people.

She flipped past the pages of written statements and read over the report from the warehouse raid. It was short— the take down of Merva was too easy. Why was he sitting alone in an empty warehouse with only two unarmed, sleeping followers as a defense? Where was the rest of the cult? Matt was correct that most cults fall apart without their leader; unless the loss of a leader was a possibility they’d already prepared for.

The burns on Quinn’s hands didn’t make sense, either. Why use the initiation ritual as a torture device? Shouldn’t that be saved for people who had accepted the invitation? And then there was the one coincidence that nagged at her the most: what were the chances that Theo just happened to be enrolled in Spencer's course? Why did Spencer seem to be at the center of the whole thing?

Y/N sighed as her phone lit up with a message from JJ. She realized she’d been poring over the file for twenty-five minutes, and she had to laugh. As the least experienced profiler on the team, what could she possibly see that the others hadn’t? She closed the case file and quickly packed up, grabbing her jacket and bag and making her way toward the elevator lobby. She paused at the glass doors, retrieving her phone and pulling up Spencer’s contact information. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment before she huffed out a breath. If even JJ hadn’t been able to convince him to go, there was no way she’d be able to change his mind. Despite herself, she glanced down the hall, allowing herself one moment to imagine an alternate timeline where she asked him to come along with her— to Rossi’s, to the moon, anywhere.

With a sigh, Y/N pushed open the glass doors and saw Agent Meadows leading Quinn to the elevator. She pushed down the little red flag in the back of her mind. As she stepped onto the elevator, she smiled politely at the two agents.

“I knew you didn’t do it. I just knew,” Meadows said to Quinn. She turned to Y/N. “And I can’t tell you what a privilege it’s been working with the A-Team on this case.”

Something about the calm in her voice made Y/N uneasy. “Yeah, it’s— um. It’s a great team to be a part of.” Her phone lit up again, this time with a phone call from JJ. “Okay, okay,” she muttered under her breath. Y/N answered the call, half an ear still listening to Meadows speak to Quinn. “Hey, I’m just leaving now.”

“Are you still at the BAU?” JJ demanded, voice low.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. But I’m in the elevator,” Y/N answered.

“Listen, we’re pretty sure Quinn was converted,” JJ told her. Y/N’s heart dropped into her shoes. “I need you to make sure he doesn’t leave that building. We’re coming back now. Where’s Spence?”

Y/N took a breath to try to even out her voice before speaking again. “Mom, we already talked about this. I don’t know.”

JJ paused. “Is Quinn in the elevator with you?”

“Yep.” JJ spoke quietly to someone on the other end of the phone. Y/N watched as the elevator dinged to the floor of the parking garage. “I’m going to have to hang up, mom. I’m gonna lose you, but I’ll try to take care of it tonight, okay?”

“Y/N, we’re on our—” The call dropped as the elevator hit the basement level.

Y/N took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Ugh, lost her.” She glanced at Meadows and Quinn, forced a smile and shrugged. “Elevators, right?”

The elevator doors began to open and Y/N stepped out, surreptitiously reaching for her holster. She had just lifted the strap when she heard the crack of metal hitting bone. Her face hit the concrete before she realized it was her own skull that bore the impact. She watched as her gun skidded across the parking lot floor, the taste of iron flooding her mouth. “Fuck,” she muttered, wincing in pain and scrambling up off the ground as a gunshot went off.

She didn’t feel the impact of the bullet. She looked down at her body, expecting to see a blooming rose of blood. She stared dumbly for a second too long, before remembering that she needed to get to her gun. Her hand instinctively went to her nose as she stumbled forward, coming away wet with blood.

“Stop, Agent Y/L/N.”

She heard the sound of a gun cocking, and then another. She closed her eyes and ran through an internal stream of curses. Raising her hands up, she turned slowly around. An older white man stood to her left, his gun trained on her. Meadows walked slowly towards her, lowering her own weapon. Quinn leaned against the back of the elevator, clutching his abdomen and blood staining the front of his shirt.

“Surprise,” Meadows sang, a sick smile spreading across her face. She stopped in front of Y/N, sweeping her hand in the direction of the man. “Now, John’s going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Get in the car.”

Y/N glanced in the direction of the vehicle, a dark sedan, driver armed to the teeth as well. “The team knows something’s up. You won’t make it out of this garage alive.”

Meadows laughed, loud and unhinged. “Oh honey. They’re not looking for lil ol’ me. And they sure as hell won’t be looking for an ambulance.” Her smile returned. “Plus, I already erased 299 murders from the Bureau’s radar. What’s a couple more? Now, shut up... and get in the car.”

Y/N moved to the open car door, keeping her back as straight as possible and her chin up, refusing to show them any cowardice. The barrel of the gun jabbed her in the back as she lowered herself into the vehicle. The door slammed shut, and in a moment, the gun was back on her, the man sitting next to her in the backseat. Y/N waited for the car to pull out, still trying to make sense of it all. Meadows was a Believer? What did she mean by “erased” 299 murders? Why would she blow her cover to shoot Quinn? Did she think that he had figured her out? Or that Y/N had? If that was the case, why not just shoot her? Why wasn’t the car moving?

“Drop your gun, Agent Reid,” Meadows’ muffled voice penetrated the inside of the vehicle. Y/N’s heart began to race. John dug the gun further into her side.

“It’s been you the whole time,” Spencer deduced.

“Yes, it was. Quinn somehow figured it out first. Pity having to shoot him,” Meadows mocked. “But he can’t give me what I want. And you can.”

“What’s that?” Y/N’s brain scrambled to put the pieces together as she listened to the exchange. Spencer was at the heart of it after all. It was right there, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Meadows continued, “You and I are going to go upstairs and free my Messiah.”

“You’re in the heart of the FBI. As soon as the rest of my team figures out it’s you, you’ll be dead before you’re out the door.” Y/N hoped to god that he was right.

“Then we need to work quickly.”

“I’m not going to cooperate with you,” Spencer told her. “Might as well shoot me.” Y/N didn’t even have time to panic before the car shifted into drive.

“I have a better idea.” On Meadows’ cue, the driver squealed out of the parking space and into Spencer’s line of sight. His eyes fell on Y/N, hands nearly pressed against the window, John’s gun pointed at her head. “Now, what’s it gonna be? Because you can either join us, or she dies.”

Y/N tried to radiate her rage through her eyes and screamed, “Reid, just shoot her! Shoot her!” The last thing she saw before the second crack of steel against her skull was the hesitation in Spencer’s eyes.

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and she groaned at the pounding of her head, the rhythm of her heartbeat throbbing in the space behind her ears. She tried to lift her hand to check for blood, only to strain against the hold of a zip tie attached to the base of the chair. Instead, she surveyed the room around her. A warehouse, lots of shipping containers, and even more men— this time armed with assault rifles and machine guns. One stood at the entrance point of the small area she was being kept in.

She worked through her memory, putting the pieces together. Meadows was a Believer, had been for quite some time to pull all of this off. Quinn wasn’t special, he just got in the way of her real target. Ben Merva might have been the messiah, but Spencer Reid was clearly just as important to whatever mission they were carrying out. Every twisting thread of information somehow traced back to him: Theo in his class, Quinn’s attachment to him, Meadows’ demand that he be the one to free Merva.

“Good, you’re awake.” Meadows strode through the space with a laptop in hand. “I need your handiwork.”

Y/N stared at her. “Is that so?’

Meadows set the laptop on the barrel in front of Y/N and then leaned down to cut the zip tie. “Besides being my collateral for the good doctor, you’re also going to help me access CIRG’s surveillance data.”

“Fuck you.” Y/N spat on Meadows’ shoes. “I’m doing nothing for you.” Her head rolled back, eyes piercing daggers into Meadows. “You should just kill me now, because this is a waste of your time. And I’m sure you know the A-Team isn’t going to waste theirs.”

Meadows narrowed her eyes and gave a theatrical sigh. “I should’ve known you’d make this difficult.” She nodded to John, standing at the entranceway.

Y/N spat again, this time to rid her mouth of the taste of blood. She steeled herself for the next onslaught, compartmentalizing every emotion outside of her fury. Her mind raced to salvage and scrutinize the memories from her time in CIRG, trying desperately to identify what Meadows could be looking for in the surveillance reports. The Believers hadn’t even been on the Bureau’s radar. The reason had to be linked to their interest in Spencer… a piece of information that involved both Spencer Reid and the existing surveillance data. A single grain that could bring the whole damn bushel down.

She heard a scuffle at the entrance of the room and raised her head. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of Spencer, bloodied and bruised. John dragged him into the room, throwing him down onto his knees in front of Y/N. His eyes tracked over her face and clouded over with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“Shit, Reid—”

“I’m fine—I’m sure it looks worse than it is,” he murmured. The concern in his eyes told Y/N she looked about as bad as she felt. “Are you all right?”

“I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known—”

“No,” Spencer interrupted. “This isn’t your fault. We all missed it.”

“What’s the end game here?” Y/N asked. “What’re they doing?”

“I’m going to be their last victim.” Spencer shook his head, barely able to keep himself upright. “I don’t know why, but I overheard them. There have been hundreds.”

Meadows stepped up behind Spencer, grinning at Y/N. “Have you changed your mind? I sure hope you have.” She raised her gun to his head. “Because if you don’t do what I want, I’ll blow his big, beautiful brains out.”

Spencer locked eyes with Y/N. She held his gaze for a moment, then tilted her head slightly as the gears started turning. The tie between Spencer and Benjamin was where it all unraveled. “No, I don’t think you will.”

Meadows’ grin faltered for less than a second, but it was long enough that Y/N knew she was right. “Is that right?” Meadows questioned.

“Yeah, it is.” She furrowed her brow, and Spencer looked at her. “You need him, don’t you? Alive.” Meadows’ tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Y/N was sure. “Because this isn’t just about Benjamin Merva. It’s about Benjamin Cyrus. It’s about Liberty Ranch.”

Meadows held her gaze for five seconds, then ten seconds. Y/N raised her chin, refusing to be the one to blink first. Meadows shifted the trajectory of her gun a foot to her right and fired off one shot. The breeze from the bullet shifted Y/N’s hair.

“You have two minutes to decide,” Meadows advised. The phone in her hand began ringing. “The next one won’t miss.” She answered the phone and stepped out.

Spencer spoke quickly. “Do whatever she’s asking. We have to get you out of here.”

“Reid, are your eyes broken?” Y/N snapped. “There’s a cult loyalist with a machine gun every five feet. You got a plan for that?”

“Listen to me.” His voice was calm, determined. “You’re right about them wanting me alive.”

The frustration bled through Y/N’s voice. “You should have just shot her.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t do that.”

“You could’ve shot all three of them and ended this in the garage,” Y/N argued.

“And then I would have watched you die,” he said quietly. “That was never even an option.”

“I’m failing to see how that would have been any worse than this. Look at us.” She gestured wildly between them. She watched as the storm of emotion returned, a cyclone swirling in seas of gold and brown. “The team needs you. Spencer, I—” I need you. She reached a hand up, almost touching his face before dropping it back in her lap. He had found the chink in her carefully constructed armor; a fissure he’d fractured a little further with every smile, every look, every moment. All at once she knew she’d never be able to keep him out, no matter how much it might hurt.

“You’ve got one minute,” Meadows barked, hovering over them.

“Y/L/N, listen to me… Please...” Spencer’s voice was thick with tears. “Tell my mom—” The phone rang again, and Meadows stepped away to answer it. Spencer dropped to a whisper. His eyes flashed with urgency. “They’re taking me and Theo. We’ll distract them. The car we were in is right outside the door. We’re 18 minutes from Quantico. Turn left outside the parking lot, take a right at the light, you’ll recognize the rest. They stay off the highways.”

Y/N’s voice was frantic when she asked, “What about you?”

His eyes pleaded with her to respect what he was asking her to do. “I’ll delay them. Get the rest of the team back here. And do not worry about me.” John hauled up him off the floor.

“Time’s up.” Meadows, in a rare display of mercy, allowed them a hug.

Spencer leaned into her and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She squeezed as hard as she could and whispered his name. She felt him take a deep breath into her hair, holding it for one impossibly long moment. Just before she released her hold on him, he mumbled, “It’s all happening. 10:23.” John dragged him back out the way they’d came.

“I gave you what you wanted.” Meadows ordered, “Get to it. Now.”

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N worked and waited, then watched and worried. Spencer spoke to Meadows. He was stalling her, offering a deal, boosting her ego, granting Y/N the opportunity to mentally prepare. But no matter how much time he gave her, she would never be prepared to leave him in that warehouse. He met her eyes across the movements of the operation and gave her an imperceptible nod before lunging forward to reach for John’s gun.

Chaos exploded throughout the warehouse. Theo ran in one direction, accosted by half a dozen Believers. Spencer and John tussled over the gun, one fighting for control and the other fighting the inevitable. Y/N sprinted, largely unnoticed, toward the huge sliding doors left slightly ajar. Bursting out into the night air, she immediately spotted one of the black sedans, unbelievably unlocked and with the keys in the ignition. She slammed the door behind her, turned the key, hesitated with her eyes on the door and her mind on Spencer for one moment too long. A single gunshot sounded from inside the warehouse.

Meadows raced out of the doorway, gun drawn. “Stop!” She pointed her gun at Y/N and there was nothing to do but step on the gas. Y/N had her eyes wide open as Meadows bounced off the windshield and onto the asphalt. She didn’t look back.

She drove. Left out of the parking lot. Just a dark, rural road—nothing particularly special or descript. She drove. Right at the stoplight. Then it was, just as Spencer said, familiar terrain. She wondered how it was possible to have seemed so far away— a world away— when it was right under their proverbial nose. She drove.

Her brain navigated of its own volition. Her mind couldn’t have been farther from the inside of the vehicle. She didn’t realize she’d arrived at the Bureau until she was attempting to pull into her usual parking spot, only to be met with her own abandoned car.

She turned the car off, left the keys in the ignition, and nearly floated out into the garage; up the elevator; across the cold floors of the lobby. Her body had walked this same path so many times before; it carried her without hesitation. She could hear the voices of the team, drifting through the open glass doors.

“She accepted their help knowing she would betray the government,” Tara deduced.

“Not every survivor wanted help,” JJ clarified.

Rossi continued, “We ran those who left the ranch and kept their names. A few relocated in rural Maryland and Virginia.”

“They could be helping now,” Luke suggested. “Any of them have large pieces of property?”

“A few,” Emily confirmed. Y/N turned the corner as she continued, “The Washington field office has started searches in Maryland. We’ll take the lead in Virginia.”

As she moved into the doorway, JJ’s eyes went wide and she rushed to Y/N’s side. “Oh my god, are you hurt?” She gently grabbed Y/N by the shoulders.

“It’s a warehouse in Hillcrest,” Y/N said flatly, eyes unfocused. “I can take you there, but we have to hurry. They hurt Reid; he looked— bad. He told me to r-run and take the car, but he’s still there.” Everyone headed for the doors except JJ and Garcia. “They won’t be there long, they have lots of trucks.” Y/N’s eyes locked on JJ, and for the first time since the whole ordeal started, she allowed herself to splinter, just a little. “I heard a gunshot. JJ, I heard a gunshot. I tried—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” JJ nodded, drawing her into a hug. “I know. I know you tr—”

“I left him there.” Her voice broke, but she couldn’t cry. Not yet. “I couldn’t get him. There was no way to save hi—”

“Stop,” JJ ordered, pulling out of the hug. “Y/N, look at me. You got out, you got back to us. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t even know about the warehouse.”

“What if— what if I got him killed?” Y/N asked.

“You didn’t get anyone killed. Spence knew what he was doing.” JJ’s voice softened. “That’s what he does. He always figures things out before the rest of us. He has a plan and getting you back to Quantico was part of it.” She raised her eyebrows, making sure Y/N was listening. “And now we have to help him by putting the rest of it together.”

Y/N ran a hand over her face. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”

Garcia stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we’ll get Reid back.”

They cleaned the blood from her face and hair as best they could in the bathroom sink. JJ patched up the lacerations with steri-strips. Back in the conference room, Garcia insisted she should get screened for a concussion as Y/N rubbed the knot on the back of her head. “There’s no time. Reid said, ‘It’s all happening. 10:23.’”

“But it’s past that,” JJ considered.

“So what did he mean?” Garcia asked.

“Could be a clue here.” Rossi's voice came over the speakerphone from inside the warehouse. “They got sloppy since they left in a hurry.”

“Okay, well you can’t be that far behind them,” JJ insisted.

“I know,” Emily agreed. “But there’s easy access to three major highways, and we don’t know which way they went.”

“Right, but they’re in tractor trailers. That means we can track them through weigh stations.”

“Garcia?” Emily prompted.

“In order to do that, I’d need the transponder identification numbers,” Garcia answered.

“Which we have no way of knowing,” Rossi sighed. “Everything they used was almost definitely forged.”

“We’re going to do another sweep here, and then we’ll head back,” Emily said. “Try to map out the most likely routes they’d use to get out of dodge.”

JJ hung up and looked to Y/N. “What do you remember about the warehouse?”

Y/N pressed her fingers into her temples. “It was full of supplies. They were disguising them, but they had stockpiles of weapons and ammunition; non-perishables and other food items; water. Enough to be off the grid for at least a year.” Y/N leaned back in her chair. “But it wasn’t just about The Believers. I mean, we know they’re a reincarnation of the Separatarian Sect.” She looked at JJ and Garcia. “It was more than that, though. Reid was at the center of everything; he was the target all along. Merva is the messiah, but it somehow all comes back to Spence.”

“Makes sense. They blame him for the downfall of the Sect,” JJ supplied.

“Yeah.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “But—and I can’t—I can’t really explain it, but Meadows really wanted to kill Reid right then. She was— she was irritated, more than anything else.”

“So what stopped her?” Garcia asked.

“That’s what I can’t figure out. She threatened me with it, with ‘blowing his brains out,’ but I— called her bluff. And she was pissed.” Y/N rapped her knuckles on the table. “I mean, really, really furious. Which tells me that, even though she wanted to,  she couldn’t kill him.” She looked between the two of them. “Merva was pulling the strings, and he wouldn’t let her do it there.”

“So it matters where the final sacrifice takes place,” JJ concluded. “We’ve got to figure out where they’re going.”

⧭⧭⧭

They’d been rehashing the details over and over. Liberty Ranch, The Strangler investigation, The Believers, Meadows, Merva, Cyrus, 300 victims, the hyoid bones, all of it. About the only thing they knew for sure was how far the cult could get in the trucks. Spencer could have told them the exact square mileage, but the potential geographical range of the trucks was dauntingly large. Y/N tried not to panic as she stared at the map.

“If this is about a Believer's rebirth, babies are born with 300 bones,” JJ said. “And they’re taking the hyoids.”

“And the hyoids we had in evidence are missing, which means Merva needed them back,” Tara reasoned. “And that means they mean more to the end game than we thought.”

Y/N felt her patience waning. “But why did Reid need us to know it all happens at 10:23?” Y/N hated that her voice sounded snappy and desperate. “That’s got to be important. It’s the last thing he said to me.”

Matt put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you’re right. It means something to him. We’re trying to figure it out.”

“Yeah, well, we better figure it out soon.” Y/N shrugged off his hand, pushed back from her seat at the conference room table, and turned for the door. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Every minute they spent floating ideas was another mile between them and Spencer. Another moment closer to losing him. She shoved the bathroom door open, hurrying into the stall and emptying the contents of her stomach.

She slumped back against the side of the stall, head gently knocking into the cool metal. She needed to pull herself together. The team was always strongest when they did their group think sessions, building upon each other’s knowledge and perspectives and filling in the gaps. If they’d done more of that earlier— if she’d had the confidence to call it out as soon as she saw the holes, Spencer might not be locked in the back of a truck, hundreds of miles away.

Y/N hoisted herself off the ground and out of the stall. She braced her hands on the counter top and tried to breathe evenly. She turned on the water and splashed her face, tapping against her cheeks. With water dripping down the planes of her face, she stared herself down in the mirror, willing her tired brain to make that last connection, to find that missing thread. It was all about the Benjamins, and she had a feeling that Cyrus was the key.

Y/N rolled her shoulders back and made her way to the conference room. She listened to their rotating conversation, knowing that this team was the only group of people capable of getting Spencer back alive.

“We have confirmation that there’s been no activity in or around the old ranch,” Matt informed them, pocketing his phone.

“If this is about rebirth, they’ll choose a new place,” Luke posited, arms crossed.

Tara leaned over the table. “Given their adoration of Cyrus and his love for the country, he’d want them to stay within our borders.”

“But Benjamin Cyrus wasn’t his real name, and he wasn’t born into the Sect,” Y/N reminded them quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. She gave an apology grimace to Matt. He just shrugged and smiled, motioning her over to the table.

Garcia nodded. “Right, let’s see. Uh, he and his mom arrived there when he was a teenager. He was kicked out for molesting girls. And then he served time in prison in Kentucky.”

“And that’s where he found religion,” Y/N recalled, thinking back to the report she’d studied dozens of times. “So he was reborn as Benjamin Cyrus in Kentucky.” She closed her eyes and flipped through her mental file cabinet, looking for 10:23.

“That’s within the area,” Garcia confirmed. “Maybe that’s where they’re headed?”

“Find out what city he was born in or where he was in prison,” Luke said. “We’ll spread out from there.”

“He found religion,” Y/N repeated, mostly to herself. “Chapter ten, verse twenty-three. 10:23 isn’t a time.” Y/N shook her head and then dragged her hand through her hair. “It’s scripture.”

“Let’s get in the air; we can narrow down which verse and city before we land,” Emily instructed.

⧭⧭⧭

“We’re approaching Kentucky; the pilot needs to know where to touch down,” Rossi informed them.

The team was scattered throughout the jet, scrolling through scripture on their tablets, reading out verses. Y/N held her chin in her hand, eyes unfocused, dragging a net along the furthest corners of her mind.

“Hey guys, listen to this,” JJ said. “Matthew chapter ten, verse twenty-three: ‘When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another.’”

“They’re going to the next town,” Emily said.

“Flee to the next town. But which one?” asked Garcia.

“Their end game is also a new beginning,” Rossi explained. “Cyrus brought religion back to the cult. They’d honor that by wanting to start fresh.”

Y/N raised her head. “Like the Garden of Eden.”

“That’s how 300 fits,” Tara concluded. “That was the number of angels that protected the Garden of Eden. Are there any Edens in Kentucky?”

The sound of Garcia tapping across the keyboard came through the laptop. “Um, no, but there are two synonyms: Canaan and Arcadia.”

“Cyrus is the original messiah. Which one is closer to where he was born?” Y/N asked.

“Arcadia,” Garcia informed them.

Y/N stood up. “That’s where they’re going.”

“Garcia, pull land deeds. I’ll notify SWAT,” Emily instructed.

JJ grabbed Y/N’s hand. “We’re going to get him.”

Y/N met her eyes. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

⧭⧭⧭

The new compound proved easy to find. In the middle of nowhere but illuminated by hundreds of lights, there were rows and rows of tents. The team began strategizing, looking for the best route to Spencer.

Emily tried to convince Y/N, now showing clear concussion symptoms, to stay with the SUVs.

“With all due respect, there is no way in hell that I’m going to sit in this car while Reid gets sacrificed by a homicidal cult leader,” Y/N said. There was a hushed pause, the team exchanging knowing glances.

“Fair enough,” Emily conceded. “Matt and JJ, I want you on the left side. Luke and Tara, the right. Dave and Y/N, you’re with me. We’re clearing every tent; eliminate any threat that would give away your position.” She unholstered her gun and swept her eyes across the team. “Our objective is to extract Reid with minimal loss.”

As they approached the first line of tents, Y/N could faintly hear Spencer speaking. “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” Her heart hammered against her ribcage. “A time to be born and a time to die.” She could feel the blood rushing through her ears. “A time to weep and a time to pluck up that which has been planted.”

“Okay, he’s stalling,” Meadows snapped. “That’s enough!”

“All right. Let the sacrifice begin.” That was Merva now, riling up the followers. “Protect us from all harm.”

As Merva led The Believers in a monotone chant, Y/N tried to block it out. She scanned a tent, watched as SWAT took out a bodyguard, looked for Spencer. Rinse and repeat, again and again. It was taking too long.

“And we thank Our Guardian, who will protect this family now and always,” Merva’s voice rang out. “Spencer: keeper of provisions!” Y/N saw the gathering of followers, but she couldn’t see Spencer.

The SWAT commander stopped them. They had reached the final line of tents. He signaled to the leaders on each side. They were ready to strike.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the crowd. She could just barely make out some sort of hanging mobile, white u-shaped decorations suspended from string. The hyoids, she realized, a wave of nausea hitting her like a truck.

Merva continued, “You have given selflessly to others and will be rewarded by the highest honor we could bestow. Your blood will be our blood. Your life will fuel ours.”

A gunshot rang out. The followers gasped. There was a split second of calm before the bedlam. Y/N took a single breath. Then she heard Matt yell; saw John lift his rifle and be felled by a solo shot to the head; watched Luke take down another bodyguard directly after.

And then she saw him. Strapped down under a canopy of bones, Spencer was silent and unmoving. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t call out. And there was Merva, knife in hand— still trying to complete his mission.

She didn’t vacillate, barely breathed, just let her legs carry her forward. She heard Emily call out his name. When Merva turned, the curved blade of the knife poised at the column of Spencer's throat, Y/N’s trigger finger compressed. She felt the gun recoil, felt the force of the shot travel up her arm as she put a single bullet in his chest. As he fell, she didn’t stop, just stepped over him, knew one of the others would take care of it.

She tripped over the small platform Spencer was restrained on, stumbling and holstering her gun. Her hands moved over the straps, loosening the one over his waist, then the ones at his hands, finally pushing the leather from his head. He panted and muttered his thanks, but she didn’t dare speak, afraid that if she did, she’d never be able to stop. Instead, she flung her arms over his shoulders, pulling him down and close and over her heart. She wondered if he could feel the way it pummeled against her chest, because to her it felt like it might smash through at any moment. His arms came around her, chin resting on her shoulder, nose in her hair. She heard him inhale and hold his breath, a mirror of that last moment together in the warehouse. She held onto him as an overboard sailor holds a life ring: single-minded, unrelenting, desperate.

There was a touch on her opposite shoulder and Y/N swung around, adrenaline still racing through her veins. JJ put her hand out in a placating motion, and Y/N came back to herself, allowing JJ to step forward and help Spencer off the platform. Y/N let out a breath and reached a hand out to steady herself, only to flinch when it brushed one of the straps that had held Spencer down. Luke caught her on one side, Tara on the other. She grasped at them, her emotions teetering right along with her physical form. Luke pulled her out from under the macabre canopy and into a hug. Tara held her hand. For the first time since the parking garage, she let herself go.

⧭⧭⧭

The jet was quiet. The team was spread out around the cabin, each of them lost in their own heads. There was a tranquility over the space, one that only ever happened when unmitigated relief overwhelmed even the joy or fulfillment of a life saved.

Y/N sat in one of the single seats, across the aisle from where Spencer was settled. Tara and Luke had finally convinced her to get checked out by the EMTs, who had confirmed her concussion. She convinced herself that the fuzziness on the corners of her vision was just a symptom of that, not a product of the tears she was struggling to hold back.  

The team each stopped by Spencer’s seat, patting his shoulder, squeezing his hand, or in Rossi’s case, gently ruffling his hair. They all spoke briefly in hushed, grateful tones. All except Y/N. She couldn’t formulate a sentence that seemed adequate. There was simultaneously too much and nothing to say. Everything felt contrived or insufficient or intemperate.

Spencer was safe. They hadn’t been too late. He was bruised and undoubtedly sore, but ultimately, he’d been through worse. So why was her heart still aching? Why couldn’t she catch her breath? She hadn’t spoken more than a few words since leaving the raid, so why did her throat feel like it was on fire? She closed her eyes, leaned her head back. She incessantly pressed her hands together, trying to crack her sore knuckles over and over again.

A pair of hands gently closed over her own, stopping the abuse, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to know who they belonged to. His thumbs stroked over the backs of her hands and she cursed the tears that spilled over her bottom lashes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t force her to look at him or acknowledge her shattering. He waited her out, rubbing a rhythm on her skin and steadying her without a word. She opened her eyes but couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet. Instead she focused on their joined hands, reciprocating the gentle pulses he gave every so often.

She turned her head to wipe her wet cheeks on her shoulder as the landing announcement came over the cabin speaker. She did look at him then, and the emotion in his gaze left her feeling raw and exposed. Their hands reluctantly separated to buckle their seat belts. Y/N closed her eyes again, turning her face into the warmth of the early morning sun as the jet began its descent.

When they landed, everyone wearily shuffled off the plane, eager to get home to their beds. Penelope met them at the elevator, enveloping Spencer in a long hug, the rest of the team smiling at their embrace. They each moved through the bullpen, gathering their things and talking quietly. Y/N’s eyes paused on her bag, brought up from the parking garage by one of the team after she’d gone missing. They lingered for a long moment on the case file, still sitting where she’d left it hours ago, before she let herself let it go. She grabbed her bag and turned to see Spencer standing in the aisle, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on her.

“Hey,” she said dumbly.

He smiled. “Hi.”

Her hands wrung the straps of her bag. “How—how’re you holding up?”

“I’ve been worse.” He shrugged. “How’s your head?”

“I’ve been worse,” she agreed.

“That’s good. Because I think after all that, the least you could do is give me a ride home,” he joked.

Y/N knew he was trying to reassure her that he was fine, but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. If anything, his attempts to provide comfort made her feel worse. Because she couldn’t forget the sound of the gunshot at the warehouse, the sight of the knife at his throat, the feeling of nearly losing someone whom she knew she could love if she just had more time. Too exhausted to hide her emotions, she could tell by the change in Spencer’s eyes that the pain was apparent on her face.

“Actually, you probably shouldn’t be driving, even if it’s just a mild concussion. Where are your keys?”

“It’s fine. I’m all ri—” Y/N started.

“I know I phrased that as a question, but I’m not really asking.” He held out his hand.

Normally she would have argued, but she just didn’t have the energy. Y/N dug into her bag, fishing out the keys and dropping them into his hand. He closed his fingers around them and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on,” he murmured. He waved to the rest of the team, and Y/N nodded, avoiding their eyes.

The ride in the elevator was silent. The walk to the car, too. They were pulling out of the garage before Spencer finally broke the silence.

“You know this wasn’t your fault, right?” he asked. Y/N stayed quiet. “We all missed the connection to Liberty Ranch.”

“But I knew something was off, and I didn’t say anything. I— I almost came to find you before I left, and if I had just done that—”

“Y/N,” Spencer interrupted. “The plan was already in motion. Meadows and Merva would have just figured out another way to execute it.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “And without you and the leads from the warehouse, the team might not have figured it out in time.”

Y/N opened her mouth before realizing she didn’t have a response. She didn’t even want to consider that possibility. She leaned her head against the window, pressing the thumb and fingers of one hand into her eyes to stave off the throbbing.

Graciously, Spencer let her remain in silence the rest of the ride to her apartment. There was so much to say, especially now; she didn’t know where to begin. And even after everything, she couldn’t stop herself from bringing up that wall— protecting herself from what she knew could hurt her more than any unsub.

They pulled onto her street, fairly empty at such an early hour. Spencer parked in front of her apartment, opening the car door and coming around the other side of the car. She expected him to give her the keys, but as she exited the car, he waited by the gate for her. “I’ll walk you up.”

Spencer opened the gate, allowing her to walk through before closing it behind them and following her up the sidewalk. “I need the keys,” she told him.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Right, right.” He placed them into her outstretched hand, and she wondered if she imagined his fingers lingering over hers.

When they reached her door, she unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open, stepping over the threshold. He waited outside, hands in his pockets. Y/N rolled her keys in her hand, and Spencer watched them.

“Um— thank you for—” Y/N started.

“I told Emily on the jet, and I’ll tell you now.” Spencer raised his eyes to meet hers. There was that look again, the one she couldn’t quite identify. “I’ve always had a hard time saying what I feel. And maybe sometimes it’s because I’m afraid of being disappointed. But sometimes it’s because the words I’m looking for don’t exist in the English language.”

“Spence—”

“Please just let me get this out,” he said. “There have been a couple moments over the past few months where I thought maybe we were sharing mamihlapinatapei.”

“Mamih what?” Y/N asked.

“Mamihlapinatapei.” He repeated, gesturing with his hands. “It’s a Yagan word that originates on the Tierra del Fuego archipelago off the southern tip of Argentina. It translates succinctly as ‘the wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.’”

“Oh.” Y/N felt a flush rising up in her cheeks.

Suddenly, Spencer couldn’t meet her eyes. “I, um—I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize our friendship or make things awkward at work. But last night, I… I just— I’ve had too many moments in my life where I thought it might be my last, and I hadn’t said all the things I needed to say.” He met her eyes again, and there was that familiar storm. “Last night I was out of time, and I hadn’t told you how I feel, and I realized that I wouldn’t get another chance, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I needed to—”

Y/N stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed their mouths together. She tried to pour everything into the kiss: every blush, every worry, every laugh, every panicked moment, every mamihlapinatapei. Spencer cradled her face in his hands, opening his mouth and capturing her bottom lip, accepting everything she gave him. She wound one of her hands into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and grounding herself to this new reality that almost wasn’t. The height of the kiss tapered off, and Y/N drew back, untangling her fingers from his hair and her heart from his grasp. Spencer watched her carefully, honey eyes uncertain.

“I do. Feel the same,” Y/N confirmed. Spencer’s lips twitched. “I’m not good at vulnerability. I’ve got a great track record of getting hurt.” Spencer grabbed her hand and opened his mouth, but Y/N continued, “But then I thought we might lose you, that time was out, and that I— I wouldn’t get the chance to see if you could be— if this could be more.” She gestured between them and then met his eyes again. “And I guess being vulnerable isn’t so bad in comparison. Because I think I could fall in love with you. I think maybe it’s already happening.” She held her breath and pressed her lips together, fighting the regret of saying too much.  

“Actually, there’s a word for that, too.” Spencer smiled, warm and soft and genuine. “Forelsket. The origin is Norwegian, and it roughly translates to ‘the euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.’”

“Forelsket?” Y/N asked.

“Well, it’s more like forelsket,” Spencer corrected.

“Wow, okay, 187.” Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like days. “Forelsket.”

“Better,” Spencer praised. “There’s also the Tagalog version, kilig.”

Y/N took a step closer to him and smoothed his shirt where her hands had wrinkled it. “Translation?”

“‘The sudden feeling of an inexplicable joy one gets when something romantic happens,’ or alternatively ‘the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.’” Spencer moved his hand to her waist and stepped over the threshold.

Y/N cupped his cheek in her hand, soothing the bruises and guiding him back to her. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

[procrastinatorimagines]

Evidence

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: shooting

Word Count: 1,615

Request:  Hi ! Can you do a jay halstead × reader where jay and y/n are dating secretly but one night jay left a hickey on y/n necks and on the next day y/n try to cover it up before work but can't and the rest of the intelligence team spot it and jay blush but she makes up a story but the intelligence team know and y/n and jay come clean and tell the rest of the team they are together ❤ thank you

All in all, you thought you’d done pretty well, giving your neck one last look in your rearview mirror before turning on the ignition and heading to the 21st. 

Jay had left your place early, neither of you arriving at work at the same time so as to not raise suspicions, so he’d been heading out the door when you’d finally gotten out of bed, already driving away by the time you spotted the hickey on your neck in your bedroom mirror. 

You were not impressed to say the least, what part of a secret relationship had escaped his mind? With an annoyed groan you got to work covering it up the best you could, applying foundation more skillfully than you’d expected as you got ready for work.

There would be time for words later. 

You were still driving in when the call came over the radio, shooting nearby your location with officers in need of backup, one down. Quickly throwing on your lights you expertly did a u-turn and headed back up the street you’d just passed, noticing people running for covering in the opposite direction to where you were going, frightened with their heads down.

It didn’t take long to stop the suspect, mask over his head and gun waving about in his hands as he shot behind him with reckless abandon at the uniformed officer in pursuit. 

Slamming on your brakes you dove out of your vehicle, gun out and ready to engage. “Hey!” You called, diverting his attention from the other officers as his gun swung in your direction, diving behind a nearby car just as the bullets began to fly. 

You poked your head up after a moment, getting off a shot before he realised the odds weren’t in his favour and took off into the garden of the car behind him. Cursing you slid over the bonnet of the car you were behind. 

“I’ll get him, you get your partner!” You told the officer, who nodded gratefully and ran back to his fallen colleague, his led badly bleeding.

“This is 50 21 Foxtrot responding to the 10 1 on West 47th, I’m on the tail of an armed offender fleeing the scene of the shooting making his way South-” you paused, a little breathless as you hopped a fence and quickly dived to the side, narrowly avoiding another bullet as the offender kept running. You gave your most apologetic look to the women screaming in the garden you’d just entered but kept going, you couldn’t stop now - “through the neighbouring gardens, we should be coming out onto West 48th soon.” 

The sound of cars was getting louder as you ran, a tall fence looking like it separated the two of you and the main road as the offender opened for a narrow side path out onto the street. 

You were gaining on him fast as he tried to climb over it, grabbing his coat and pulling him down. His gun fell from his hand and you kicked it away as he scrambled after it, punching him hard in the jaw as he turned back to lash out at you.

“Stay down,” you ordered breathlessly, gun out and aimed square in his direction as the gate opened behind you, back up coming through. “You have the right to remain silent...” you relayed, getting out a pair of cuffs as you read him his rights and passed him off to the unis to bring back to the 21st in their squad car.

And then you were off to work.

-

“Hell of a morning,” Trudy commented as soon as you eventually stepped into the district, pushing her glasses up onto her head as you approached, an eyebrow going up as you reached the desk, “in more than one way I see.”

Your brow creased, “pardon?” You asked, unsure of what she was suggesting with her tone.

“My mistake, you must have got that bruise during the chase,” Trudy said sarcastically, gesturing to her own neck. Your eyes went a little wide, your hand going to where you’d spent way too much of your morning covering up the hickey Jay had given you. 

“Of course,” you hummed unconvincingly, rushing to the bathroom as Trudy laughed. All that effort to cover it up and your sweat had washed it away, hopefully you could cover it up again before anyone wondered why you weren’t upstairs yet.

Barging into the bathroom you riffled through your bag for the foundation you’d brought, just in case you’d needed to touch it up throughout the day, but in all the excitement of the morning you’d forgotten all about it. Oops.

You were putting the finishing touches on covering it up when the door swung open again, too late to hide what you were doing as you found yourself face to face with Burgess. 

“Voight’s looking for you upstairs,” she relayed, clearly amused as you hurriedly shoved your things back into your bag, embarrassed at being caught red-handed. 

You were going to kill Jay.

She didn’t say anything on the walk up the stairs, but you avoid her eye guiltily as she buzzed you both up and you made your way to the bull pen.

“Took you long enough,” Adam commented when you both emerged, a coffee in his hand as he leaned against the breakroom door. 

“Yeah, sorry, Y/N was busy covering up a hickey in the bathroom,” Burgess replied non-chalantly, much to your emence embarrassment. Kev snorted out a laugh and Jay choked on his drink as you tried not to meet his eye. 

“Was she now?” Hailey laughed, the others clearly enjoying how flustered you were getting. 

“I er- no- it was during the call this morning-” you tried and failed to sound believable as the others laughed more, Adam being the first to notice how red Jay had gotten since the converation began.

“No one’s buying that Y/N,” Kim informed you as Adam clapped Jay on the shoulder. 

“Well that’s interesting,” he commented, watching the way Jay awkwardly cleared his throat, not daring to look at you. The others picked up on it too, the both of you looking very guilty in a room full of trained detectives. 

“Got something to share there Halstead?” Kev asked, Jay finally looking at you with apology in his eyes as he finally saw the pourly applied foundation covering the very visible hickey he’d left.

You both hesitated before answering - was there really any use hiding it anymore? A room full of your closest friends who also happened to be detectives weren’t exactly going to drop the subject, or believe whateve bs you gave them in the moment.

Sharing a mutual resigned nod Jay rubbed the back of his neck, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Okay, well, we’ve kind of...”

“...being seeing each other,” you finished for him, realising he was unsure how to put into words exactly what you’d both been doing. If you were honest, you didn’t know exactly what this was either, you hadn’t discussed labels, but you both had feelings for each other, that much you knew for sure. 

“For how long?” Hailey asked, looking at her partner with slightly narrowed eyes, wondering how long he’d been keeping this from her more than anything.

“A couple months,” Jay said, glancing back up at you with a little smile.

“Months?” Adam was shocked you’d both managed to keep this a secret from them for so long, “and this is the first we’re hearing about it?”

“Well, we didn’t want to get our wires crossed,” you shrugged, gesturing to try and get your point across, “we work together.” That had been one of the first things you’d talked about the first time you’d spent the night together, keeping your personal and professional lives as separate as you could. 

“Yes, you do,” you heard your Sergeant say, jumping as Voight emerged from his office, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. Uh-oh. “Is this going to get in the way of doing your job?”

You swallowed and shook your head, “no, sir.”

“We’re good Sarge,” Jay said at the same time.

All the teasing and joking smiles from the unit had vanished, waiting for Voight’s reaction with bated breath as he mulled it over in his head. 

“Good,” he nodded, much to your relief, though you knew the conversation was far from over, “because we’ve got a case to get back to.”

He was right, this was work, there’d be time to think and talk about this more later - right now you had a dead city official and a cop in the hospital.

Burgess winked at you as you made your way to your desk, picking up a scrunched up piece of paper you had lying around and throwing at her once Voight’s back is turned. He paused, shaking his head, but didn’t turn back around as he went back to his desk. 

You rolled your eyes at her and settled into your chair, knowing you had a report to write up about this morning’s incident, your perp down in holding at that very moment. 

Still, you couldn’t help but look over at Jay, who was looking right back at you, offering you a small smile which you returned in kind. Voight wasn’t the only one who’d want to finish this conversation later, you and Jay had a lot to talk about now too, given that everything was out in the open. 

Still, as you turned back to your desk and tried to focus on the task at hand, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to turn out okay.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Rangers, Lead the Way

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: Swearing, canon compliant violence, I had to use a lot of material from the actual episode, mention of domestic abuse

tagging: @detectiveinchicago​

A/N: So, this is a new series. Basically, OA Zidan (FBI), Jay Halstead (Chicago PD), and Kenny Crosby (FBI: Most Wanted) all went to Ranger training together and kept in touch, something that was useful when they couldn’t be the one to keep their ‘partner’ safe and need to call one of the others for assistance when their ‘paartners’ are temporarily working with another member of the trio.

OA wasn't a name that he'd heard in a long time. They weren't in the same unit but they were in Rangers training together. Jay was one of the only two people there who didn't have it out for him solely because of his religion, while he was shocked to find a Muslim among the ranks at first, he quickly got over it. Not only did he trust that his superiors wouldn't let a terrorist into the army at all, let alone Ranger training, but OA was a U.S. citizen, and had a very personal hatred for everyone who sullied the name of Islam and used it for violence and their own personal gain. So he and Kenny Crosby befriended OA despite the shock and ignorance from their brothers and sisters in arms. They studied together, trained together, ate together, and bunked together. When they'd all been given different assignments they made sure to stay in touch. And they continued to call, email, and text each other after they'd all been discharged.

When Hailey got temporarily assigned to New York Jay was... Well, it's hard to describe how he felt. It was such a nightmarish combination of devastated, terrified, and heartbroken. It was like an icy hand had enclosed around his throat and was slowly squeezing, painfully closing his throat, all while his heart was being dissected out of his chest by another. Not only was he reliving one of the most traumatic moments of his life all over again, but Hailey was going to be in the field without him. She was going to be in danger without him there to watch her back.

And since Hailey was amazing, she could tell just by looking at him that his mind was dropping down into a dark place faster than Alice tumbled into Wonderland. "It's just temporary. And I'll be okay, Jay."

"Hailey..."

"I'm going to put in my time and come back as quickly as possible. It's okay. It's all going to be okay." Hailey's words didn't reassure him in the slightest. How could they, when they didn't even reassure Hailey?

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

"Special Agent Zidan."

"Hey OA, it's Jay."

"Hey man, how are you?"

"Honestly, not great."

"What's wrong?"

"My- uh my partner..."

"Hailey Upton."

"Yeah. She's getting detailed out to the FBI for a bit. I found out that she's getting assigned to your unit."

"That makes sense, my partner's doing a UC detail right now, we'll probably be partnered together."

"OA... Watch out for her. Please. She is strong and more than capable of defending herself, and you quite frankly, but- she's my- I..."

"Don't worry, Jay. I'll have her back. She'll make it back to you."

"Thank you. Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me."

OA looked at the now-empty desk that had been causing his heart to ache at the sight of it. His shoulder sagged at the pain that was pulling in his chest, the dark fog that filled his mind whenever he started to think, started to wonder, caused his head to throb. "Actually, I know exactly how you feel."

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

"You will be partnered with Agent Zidan."

"Hi, I'm OA."

"Hi. Hailey."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Listen up, everyone. This is Detective Hailey Upton from Chicago PD. She will be with us for the next few weeks as part of our interagency training program."

"All right, so let's, uh, direct our attention to the screens here. Found the body of a young John Doe in St. Nicholas Park. A hundred yards from Alexander Hamilton's house. Federal land, federal case- and no, it is not where Aaron Burr shot him. The famed duel took place in-- anyone, anyone? Weehawken, New Jersey. Kristen knew. Unfortunately, there's far less clarity in the present homicide case. Evidence of torture and abuse, the victim was brown-skinned, but there was no other evidence of a hate crime. So let's dig in, get to work, start filling in the blanks. Yeah? Go."

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

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

"So, Chicago PD? Should I be nervous?"

"Nervous?"

"You guys have been in the news a lot and not for good reasons."

"Uh, yeah, we've had some issues, but they're being addressed. It's a great place. I'm proud to be a part of it. The next time you want to insult me, just come out and say it, you don't need to disguise it as a compliment. This car right here?"

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just my way of saying we do things differently here."

"Mhmm."

"Just trying to keep it real." And keep you from getting hurt so that Halstead doesn't develop a full head of grey hair. "So, you spend much time in New York?"

"Nah, first time here."

"Any early observations?"

"Pizza's too thin. It's like a cracker with sauce on it. Just trying to keep it real."... Okay, so maybe it would've been nice if Jay had warned him that she had an axe to grind, but he could make do.

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

"If I hear you're harassing any more immigrants, I'm gonna come back here, and I'm gonna break your arm. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"I forwarded Kristen the pictures of Aman. She'll get us a street block number based on the license plates in the background."

"Just like that, huh?"

"The FBI, Upton. Our tech resources are pretty sick. Look, it's not a big deal, but now that you're working with us, just try and be a little bit more careful. If that guy Prichard calls the Bureau complaining that you threatened to use force..."

"Look, man, I don't need a lesson on how to talk to people, all right?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with someone breaking that idiot's arm, it's just... It's just that the Bureau is hardcore, and they take that stuff really seriously."

"You're right. I'm sorry. If he files a beef, I'll eat it and make sure you're clear. All right?"

"Appreciate that. But what the hell's a beef?"

"It's an expression."

"I'm kidding. Kristen said Aman's house is around this area."

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

So, Hailey is a badass. That was pretty damn cool to witness. Sidenote; Jay is going to murder him.

Hailey was fine, more than fine, she actually saved his ass. But that didn't matter, Jay had trusted him to protect Hailey and hadn't failed, but he hadn't done the best job either.

They'd been searching a house, and after coming down the stairs he completely missed an assailant in the kitchen. But Hailey hadn't. No, she saw him and got him out of the line of fire. He provided cover fire while she jumped back over to the wall at the end of the stairs. OA tensed, more than usual when he was in a firefight unless Maggie was- nope, not going there, the point is, he didn't miss the way a bullet penetrated the wall a few centimetres from Hailey's head.

"Halstead."

"Don't be mad-"

"Oh god-"

"Hailey's fine. One-hundred percent fine, not even a scratch. We just, uh, we got into a shootout with an assailant. He got a shot off close to her head. She's fine- more than fine! I swear! She actually saved my ass in that altercation! And I was covering her the whole time!"

"... That's it? That's a pretty normal day for us, OA. She's okay, you're okay... So, everything, is... Okay. And seriously, thanks again, man. I can't even begin to tell you how much this means to me. I know that she can take care of herself and the others around her, but it's hard when I'm not the one there to have her six. So I really appreciate that I know and trust the person who is."

"Well, I'm glad that you're not gonna come at me like you did when I stole one of the cookies your mom made from your care package."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of that."

"Plus, I know how it feels to... Not know. My partner is under right now and..."

"You're going out of your mind?"

"More than you can believe. I can't eat or sleep, and every time my phone buzzes I think it's a death notification instead of an emergency call from work."

"Sounds like you've got your own Hailey. You'll have to introduce me to Maggie one day."

"Yeah, I will. And Ken's definitely gonna have to introduce Hana. We have heard far too much about her to not even be able to put a face to the name."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I regret our 'no search' rule, but then I remember how much we embarrass each other."

"By the way, thank you."

"Huh? For what?"

"For saving my ass back there. In the house."

"Oh. Okay. Cool. You're welcome."

"Halstead, how much do get shot at, exactly?"

"Why are you asking?"

"She pushed me out of the path of a bullet and when I thanked her afterwards she treated it like it was nothing."

"... I mean, there's not exactly a whole lot I can do about people trying to kill us..."

"Jay. Dude."

"I can try to stop being 'idiotically reckless' as Hailey calls it, but I'm not trying to be a hero or a dumbass or anything, it's just that... If it's not me getting hurt..."

"...It's her."

"Yeah."

"We're both whipped, aren't we?"

"Oh, ridiculously whipped. The desk Sergeant at my precinct is constantly making fun of me for it."

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

"Just got ballistics back on the slugs fired at OA and Upton. They match the bullets that killed Aman, but get this; they also match the bullets pulled from a drive-by murder victim two months ago."

"Could they ID a suspect yet?"

"Yeah, arrested him too. Name is Santiago Gonzalez, known associate of the Latin Players. He's being held at MDC pending trial."

"Latin Players. That's a Chicago gang."

"Hmm, looks like they're expanding."

"So the Latin Players killed someone, they get arrested, go to jail, and the gun

stays on the street."

"And the new owner uses said gun to kill Aman, a studious Indian engineering student?"

"Right. What are we missing? How are these two murders connected?"

"Have OA and Upton pay a visit to Inmate Gonzalez. Maybe he can help us answer that question."

"Right."

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

"So this guy, Gonzalez, is originally from Chicago. Runs with the Latin Players, so maybe you should take the lead on this one. But go hard on him." Hailey and Gonzales were from the same city, same blood, this was her turf, and OA wanted to make sure that he abided by that.

"You want a reaction?" Hailey seemed to get exactly what he meant, what he wanted, but she also seemed hesitant, like she needed more than clarification. It was like she needed permission.

"A big one. Big enough to force him to call his people."

"I think I can do that." And just like that, she had a smirk in her voice and was walking ahead of him. OA could see the wheels turning in her head and a coolness to her features let him know that she'd come up with a game plan. He didn't know if he should be afraid or not.

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

"Where's the gun you used in the drive-by?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." They were less than a minute into the interrogation and he was already annoyed. Why did these guys always have to be so smug? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and just let Hailey do her thing, only popping in to keep the flow going. "One of your friends used it to kill a civilian last night."

"Used it again this afternoon on us. Fired off ten rounds."

"Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about." OA had to hold in a sigh.

"You're staring 20 to life on the case you're riding. Give us the name of the person you gave the gun to, and maybe I'll be able to get you a reduced sentence."

"Get my ass, blondie." OA quickly debated the pros and cons of stepping in. Honestly, this guy would probably just make him angrier with his smug attitude and sexist remarks, plus Hailey wasn't even phased. She was still in control, and she actually seemed a little... Bored.

"I'm not a fed like him. I'm Chicago police."

"So what?"

"Means I play by different rules. Also means I know the names of all the shot callers in the Latin Players. Tomorrow morning, we're gonna do a warrant sweep. Means a lot of people you know are gonna get arrested."

"That's not my problem."

"But it is. Because I'm gonna make sure that they know you are the snitch who gave them up."

"Now, you know nobody's gonna believe that."

"Really? Because in my experience, pissed-off bangers don't do their homework, and if they think you're a snitch, you're a snitch. In the street, rumours become facts like that."

"I'm done talking."

"Alright."

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

"So you think he believed us?"

"I don't know. What?"

"Nothing, you just reminded me of my partner, Maggie, in there."

"Oh."

"In a good way."

"Then thank you."

"Can you cue up the audio feed?" The prison guard nodded back at OA and did as he asked.

"So where is your partner?"

"Uh, she is on an undercover assignment. That I know absolutely nothing about besides the fact that she is gone and unreachable."

"That's gotta be pretty tough."

"Yeah, but she's really good, so she'll be fine."

"We're up." The guard unmuted the computer and moved out of the way so that he and Hailey could see it clearly.

"Yo, just say the word, man. Chicago about to throw that heat."

"What are you talking about?"

Gonzalez sighed. "Police and FBI here sweating me, man."

"About what?"

"That piece that I left behind. I'm guess it's all connected to what happened on the night at Highbridge Park."

"All right, thanks for looking out."

"No doubt."

"Can you trace the number that he called?" OA was ansty, ready to get moving fast before their lead disappeared and from the honed in look in Hailey's eyes he could see she felt the same.

"Payphone up in Washington Heights." The prison guard was curt and efficient, exactly what they needed and OA was silently grateful.

"Okay. Thank you."

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

"I'm guessing that's his girlfriend."

"Hold on. I talked to her at the park, right before we found Ernesto's body." From the way her body tensed OA could tell Hailey wasn't happy she'd let this girl slip through her fingers. He could tell her that it wasn't her fault, no one was even remotely aware of this connection, but he knew that was pointless. Any passionate law enforcement officer would beat themselves over something like this, himself included.

"Ah, and we have a hit off of social rec. Her name is Harper Quinlan, 23 years old, last known address is 84 Groton Street, Queens, New York."

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

"Why were you at the park?" OA sat across from the young woman, dead set on getting all the information she knew. Arman's murder was quickly dissolving into a larger more horrifying crime and he was worried that the poor man who this had all started with would be forgotten and he didn't want to think about why that enraged him so much.

"I told you before. I was walking."

"Or was it to recover the glove that Lucas dropped after he killed his drug supplier?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"We have video of you in the driver's seat of Lucas' Range Rover at Highbridge Park the night that Lucas killed Ernesto Garcia, so you are now an official suspect in a murder investigation. That means no more lying, no more protecting your boyfriend. You either cooperate with us here and now, or you go to prison."

"I'm not gonna help you ruin Lucas' life. I just won't. He's a good person."

"Harper, good people don't sell drugs or kill people."

"Yeah, you don't know him like I do. He's so nice, and... he's sweet... He really loves me."

"Lucas isn't who you think he is, Harper. Protecting him will only get you and more innocent people hurt. Tell me why you think he was in the park that night."

"I'm not gonna help you."

"Are you listening to what I'm saying to you? You're a suspect in a murder investigation here. Lying to protect him makes this worse. You're putting more lives at risk. Be smart. Tell me why you were there that night. Harper, you don't need to go to prison for him." OA knew he wasn't getting anywhere and was trying to think of some other- any other method- to try and get Harper to talk, when Hailey burst into the room. She looked calculated, like she had a plan or idea that needed to be executed exactly or else the worst might befall those she was trying to protect. Which, if he read her character right, was everyone.

"Unlock it."

"What's going on?" Harper was just as confused as he was, but he knew better than to show it.

"Do it. Pull up your texts."

"Oh, my God."

"What does it say?" Hailey already knew, that much was obvious, but whatever was going on needed to be as brutally real as possible to Harper, and voicing it out loud would drive whatever was going on home for Harper.

"'Return the product, or he's dead. You have four hours. Tell your man to meet us at the place we did our first deal.' Oh, my- oh, my God." Harper's sobs quickly took up the space of the interrogation room, it didn't matter that she hadn't seen her father in so long, losing him would devastate her, and the Latin Players knew that well.

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

"Let me take a run at her. I might have an angle to play." OA watched Hailey carefully, trying to make out was she was thinking, what angle she could possibly have, but he hadn't known her nearly long enough for any of that. There was this... Knowing glint in her eyes, and a sort of dark confidence had taken over her aura. She was confident in whatever plan she had, obviously, he just had no way of predicting what it was. In that moment, OA could really see what made Jay all twisted over her. She didn't look excited to break the accomplice of a drug dealer, or eager to impress the FBI. She looked like she was ready to get elbow deep in someone else's mess just for the sake of protecting as many people as possible with her quick wit and razor-sharp intelligence. So he just inclined his head and got ready to watch her work from the other side of the glass.

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

"You're in a tough place right now, Harper. We have video of you at the scene of a murder, which makes you an accessory. You're looking at 15 to 20 years in prison. But if you cooperate, we can help you. We'll talk to the prosecutor, explain why you were there, help him understand the nature of your relationship with Lucas."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know what's going on. He hurts you, doesn't he?"

"No. That's not true. He's a good guy-"

"No, he's not. What are those bruises on your neck? You tried to cover them up, but I can see them. When you first met, I bet he was great. You guys hit it off, you had fun. He was everything you wanted. But then he started chipping away at your friends and your family. So you pop a pill to numb the pain and tell yourself everything's okay, just hoping that the abuse is gonna stop. Harper. It won't. I talked to your dad. He loves you very much. And he needs you right now. He's in a lot of danger. If these guys don't get their drugs back, they will kill him. The only thing that matters now is you helping us to find Lucas, so we can recover the drugs and find your dad." Watching Hailey in the interrogation room really was something else. From the slight waver of her tone, the palpable understanding in her voice that seemed to wrap a crying Harper in the first hug she's had in a long time, he could tell that she was exposing a pain-filled part of herself to this- this girl, this accomplice in drug dealing and murder. And still, she was able to remain professional and in control, and OA could honestly say that her incredible ability to do her job both made his heart ache for her and impressed him far more than he thought she would.

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

They were in the surveillance van, waiting for Harper and the SWAT team to get in to place. What OA was itching to ask her was highly personal. He did not expect her to feel comfortable talking to him about it, but she'd given Harper some of her strength and after revealing something so heart-wrenching, the protective Egyptian older brother in him needed to make sure that she'd left enough for herself. "So, how do you know so much about abuse? I am sorry, I did not mean anything by that."

"No, it's fine. It's all good. Everyone becomes a cop for a reason. I guess that's mine."

"Uh, yeah."

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

"Don't forget, Harper. He wants the cash to get out of town, but we need the location where he first met his dealer. That's where your dad is." OA nodded along to Hailey's instruction, keeping a critical eye on the emotionally distraught Harper.

"Babe. They took my father."

"What are you talking about?"

"That guy that you deal with, they grabbed my father and texted me that they're gonna kill him unless we return the drugs that you took."

"Oh, no, no. I can't- I can't do that."

"They took my father!"

"Look, I feel bad, but they will kill me. Oh, Jesus, don't-"

"Lucas."

"Don't give me the sad eyes look."

"Lucas."

"I'm screwed. Look, I gotta look out for me- for us, you understand?"

"Look, I need to know where you and Ernesto did your first deal 'cause that's where they wanna meet."

"I just told you, I'm not going-"

"I will go! I'll call my uncle. He has a lot of money. Maybe I can negotiate a deal or something."

"I gotta get moving, all right, so give me the money."

"Where did you meet him?"

"Stay strong." Hailey could see her waver, could see her lose her ground and need someone to keep her steady. "Location first, then give him the money."

"Lucas. Lucas. Lucas!"

"I'll call you later on, all right?" Lucas, being the selfish douchebag that he is, grabs the bag of money and moves to book it, leaving his girlfriend who needs him behind.

"Damn it. Move in now!" OA sounded the call and immediately all agents left their posts and honed in on Lucas.

"Lucas!"

"You lying sack of..." Lucas, in an effort to prove that he really is a stellar guy, pulls out a gun and starts shooting at the agents, causing panic and fear in the civilians around them. Really, Harper? This guy?

"Get down! Get down!" Hailey pulled Harper out of the line of fire and pushed her to the ground before covering her with her own body, amazing OA with her selflessness yet again. You really picked a good one, Jay.

"Move, move!"

"Drop it!" Scola had joined them when Lucas went for the kill, forcing OA to do the same. Only OA was a good shot, though.

"Lucas! Lucas! Lucas! Lucas..." Harper couldn't stop calling for him, and OA was certain that the only reason she hadn't crawled over to his body was that Hailey was holding her in place. "It's okay." Hailey seemed to be stuck on repeat, comforting Harper. OA personally couldn't see how someone who had been abused would mourn their abuser... But then again, he thankfully had never had to suffer through that. Unlike Hailey.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Sounded like he was ready to hit the road, so I'm guessing his dope is close by. Nothing back here." OA went to the Range Rover with Scola to look for anything- finding the drugs would've been preferable, but as long as it was a tangible clue, they could call it a win.

"Yeah. There's nothing here either."

"Any luck?" Hailey approached them, her I-know-something-that-you-don't-but-don't-worry-I'll-tell-you plastered on her face.

"Nope. Nothing."

"You have the keys on you?"

"Yeah."

"Here, let me try something. Hop in. Shut the trunk." Hailey closed the driver's door, started the engine, pushed a button on the stereo and on the car door. A drawer illuminated by blue light opens, containing the missing drugs.

"I already pushed it. Nothing happened." Scola sounded mildly insulted, but OA just chuckled internally.

"Okay, Chicago." He was impressed, and he wasn't going to hide that. He was also going to give Jay a call later to tell him to ask her out already. There's no way a woman this amazing stays single for long.

"I have a CI who installs these things. Engine has to be on and doors closed in order for it to open."

"Okay, we got the dope. Now we just gotta figure out where to deliver it to."- OA

"Yep."

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

"We have Lucas' texts from the phone he was carrying since Harper said he started doing business with the Latin Players about a month ago-" Kristen was leading their group of field agents and Jubal towards the front desks, explaining what she found, and while normally they would have totally enjoyed her explaining just how smart she is, things were a little time-sensitive.

"Yeah."

"We need to scrub that time period."

"There, on the 28th. There's a text that says, 'Meetings at 2. Let's do 9 instead of 8.'" One of the analysts pulled the info onto the computer screen in front of them, showing them the text records.

"'Let's do 9 instead of 8'? But the meeting's at 2:00. Is that some sort of code?" Jubal's mind was whirring away with Kristen's, figuring out exactly what it meant.

"Well, here's Lucas' GPS data from that day around that time." Kristen worked her magic so that Jubal could work his.

"All right, so from 1:37 to 3:12, he was in Brooklyn down by the river. Kris, can you zoom in? Get a more specific look at this. Yeah, over here. Can you drill down right there?"

"Okay."

"They met at 2:00 at a dock. Pier nine instead of pier eight. That's the meeting place." Scola voiced it out loud, like he was still in thought and hadn't had time to put all of the pieces in place internally first.

"There it is." Jubal's prideful voice made OA smirk.

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

"We've got 67 minutes to get the drugs down to pier nine. Unfortunately, the guy we need to deliver the drugs is at the city morgue." Isobel voiced the dreadful obvious from her office, forcing them all to sigh and start their plan to catch Arman's killer from scratch.

"I'll go under as Lucas' friend. I'll give him the coke in exchange for Harper's dad." Hailey volunteered herself, but not with the same gusto she'd been working the entire case. Something was off and OA's 'spidey senses' were giving him no peace.

"No. These guys have done their homework. They're not gonna buy that." OA knew he made a good point, but he hoped that no one saw the way his shoulders went rigid.

"I get it, but I think I can pull it off."

"No, I agree with OA. It's too risky." Isobel agreed with him and OA felt like he could breathe again, he promised Jay that he'd watch her back, something he couldn't really do if he was watching her not with her. And if he were honest with himself, he'd become a little attached to her in the time they'd been partnered together, hoping that they would become friends.

"So we need a plan C."

"Let me do it. He's my father. I'm the one who got him into this awful situation. So let me do it. Let me do something meaningful. Something that will make me feel good about myself... Please. Gotta let me do it." Harper looked at Hailey, not even acknowledging the rest of the room.

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

"You're gonna do great. Just follow the plan we laid out."

"He doesn't get the second bag until you see your father."

"Right. Got it."

"And if your dad's not at the meeting place, you tell the man to bring him there. He'll say no. You stand your ground." Hailey seemed to be offering more comforting advice.

"You have more leverage than you think. This dope is worth a lot of money, and that's all they really care about." While he seemed to be offering more calculated advice.

"It's okay to be nervous. They'd be suspicious if you weren't. You good?"

"I'm good."

"Okay."

"Okay. Here we go."

"Alpha team in position."

"Where's Lucas?" The gang leader, covered in tattoos was menacing as he approached.

"He sent me instead."

"And my product? There's only one kilo here."

"The other four are close by."

"Close by doesn't do me no good."

"Show me where my father is, and I'll get you the other four."

"Don't get cute with me, mama. I'll cut your throat. Go get my dope."

"Let's get ready to move in."

"No, no. Give her a chance."- Hailey was confident, but OA couldn't help but side-eye her. Wondering just what made her so sure.

"You trying to get your dad killed? 'Cause, that's what's happen if you keep playing."

"I need to see him."

"He's alive. I promise."

"I need proof."

"[whistles] Right over there, chica."

"Okay, we got eyes on the dad. We're good to go."

"Wait, wait, wait. Let's see if we can get him talking about Aman's murder. As soon as we see a weapon, we roll."

"Okay." OA knew that Hailey was smart, and she had been making great calls throughout this case, but he was still hesitant. An innocent man's life was in the balance, but he wanted justice for Arman too.

"Be a good girl, go get my dope. Do that, Big Papa walks. I'll go with you."

"So... So... How do I know you're not gonna kill me and my father once I give you the dope?"

"I don't kill civilians. Bad for business."

"You kill that Indian guy? He was a civilian."

"I try my best, but I'm not perfect, mama." Harper meekly retrieved the second bag from behind construction equipment.

"You did good, Harper." But 'good' wasn't enough for him. Suddenly a large silver gun was pointing at the middle of her forehead.

"FBI! Don't move!" OA lead the charge, coming out of hiding and announcing himself the second that they got confirmation that he murdered Arman they'd burst out of the van and beat SWAT to Harper, the Latin Players, and Harper's father.

"Drop your weapon now! Let me see your hands now! Put the gun on the ground! Step away! Put it down now!"

"Get on the ground! Get on the ground, now!"

"Dad!"

"Let me go! Dad! Dad! Dad!" Honestly, he didn't give the tearful father-daughter reunion much attention or thought, but he noticed that Hailey did, if only for a couple of seconds longer than necessary. He didn't know what to make of that, though.

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

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I just filed my 302. Do you need help with yours?"

"Nah, I just finished."

"So, I have to admit, I wasn't so sure about you."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure about you either. But you're all right. For a fed."

"You wanna grab a beer?"

"I'm okay. You don't have to look after the new kid."

"I am pretty sure you don't need looking after. Come on, you saved my life. The least you can do is let me buy you a drink."

"For the tenth time, I didn't save your life. All right, let's grab a beer, but only if you tell me why you became a fed. I told you my reason. It's only fair you tell me yours."

"Deal."

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

They didn't quite 'go out for a beer'. When OA heard Hailey's stomach throw a temper tantrum in the elevator he suggested going out for food that was accompanied by a beer. She'd agreed as long as they didn't go out for "crackers with sauce on them". OA had laughed, not even remotely or phased by Hailey's obsession with Chicago pizza. It's just another thing she shares with Jay. Besides, he wanted to take her somewhere else.

When they sat down Hailey looked around, taking it all in. Omar has been coming to this restaurant all his life. It had been open longer than he'd been alive, he'd even had his tenth birthday here. He hadn't brought Maggie here yet, not because he didn't think they were close enough, he just didn't know how she'd react to realizing that they are that close. "I hope you like Egyptian food."

"I've never had it, but I'm Greek and I know that there are a few shared foods and ingredients."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed Greek from 'Upton'."

"My parents changed it when they moved here, their name was too difficult for Americans to pronounce, and there was some... Other stuff."

"I'm familiar with 'other stuff'. Do you want any recommendations or need me to explain anything on the menu?"

"You know what? You can choose what I eat tonight. If I like what you pick, I won't tease you for it the rest of the time I'm here."

"Well, for the record-"

"What record?" Hailey laughed.

"For the record, I am completely confident in my knowledge of food so I know I'll find something you'll like. After all, it can't really be bad so long as it's not non-Chicago pizza. Right?"

OA ended up choosing a dish called 'kushari', it wasn't like the Chicago or Mediterranean food Hailey was used to but she'd loved it. OA was smiling at her, proud of his victory, Hailey rolled her eyes, smirking at his impishness. "Tell me about your partner." The question caught him off guard and for a moment he'd felt a significant crack in his walls, leaving him exposed. Suddenly all the feelings he'd been pushing back since Maggie went UC enveloped and starting drowning him. Fear gripped his heart, haunting curiousity stabbed his mind, and loneliness hooked onto his soul. "OA? We don't have to talk about her, I'm sorry I asked, I didn't mean to upset you."

"She's one of the most amazing people I know. She's smart, strong, generous, empathetic, courageous... She's honestly one of the most amazing people in my life and I love having her as my partner." Hailey looked at him the same way his sisters and mother did whenever he spoke about one of the most important people in his life. Like they were able to listen between his words and decipher another meaning to what he'd said. But like his mother, his sisters always gave him hell for it, she said nothing. I couldn't even dispute it if she did say anything.

"She sounds badass."

"She is. What about your partner? Tell me about them?" He'd narrowly averted saying 'him', unsure how she'd react if she knew just how close she and Jay really were, and just how much Jay had told him about her. She got this smitten grin on her face, and OA knew that the roles were reversed from a few moments ago when he had that same smirk and far off look in his eyes. "His name is Jay Halstead, and he's an amazing person, except for when he's getting himself shot, the reckless idiot. He would rather get shot at than get a needle which rattles me to no end, especially because he's so much more kind and intelligent than he gives himself credit for and we need him you know, alive, but still, I admire him so much. He makes me laugh and he just knows how to get to me, you know? I would... I would follow him anywhere. Wow... What is in this food? Truth serum? I'm not usually that open..." It was like he could literally see a forcefield shaping around her. Shrinking in on herself, her face hardening, hastily putting a forkful of food in her mouth. She looked at the wall behind him, pretending to be interested in the decorations, trying to pass off the slight panic in her eyes.

"Maybe it's just my charming demeanour, or that I got personal first, really personal. Or maybe it's because you needed to tell that to someone you don't see every day."

"Yeah. Maybe." She still wouldn't look at him and a tense silence enveloped them until she took a deep breath and shook herself. Light seemingly went off in her head before she gave him an absolutely devilish smirk. "I believe I was promised your origin story."

"Is that what we're calling it? An 'origin story'?"

"It is now."

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"Halstead."

"Get your head out of your dumb ass and ask Hailey out."

"I- OA-"

"You won't regret it, Jay. I actually think that you will regret it if you don't."

"I just don't know if I'm ready to admit anything to myself, forget Hailey."

"When does life ever wait until you're ready, man? Neither of you work in a stable occupation, and even then the universe isn't exactly known for working on anyone else's timeline. I can literally feel you aching for her from here."

"But what if I'm not good enough."

"Oh, I've only known her for a few days and I already know that no one's good enough for her-"

"Damn have you adopted her as another honourary sibling? How many do you have now? And Hailey actually knows you've adopted her, right?"

"Not important, and don't try and change the subject."

"But if no one's good enough for her, then..."

"You're too hard on yourself Jay. No one's good enough for you either. Why shouldn't two people who are far too good for the world be together? You deserve happiness, Jay. You both do, and I think telling her that you're far gone with her would be a great start."

"Thanks, man. Really."

"No problem."

"... So you think that I'm 'far too good for the world'?"

"And now I'm regretting every word we've spoken." No I don't, but your head really doesn't to get bigger.

"Nope, no take-backs. You think that I'm badass and amazing."

"I never said 'badass' or 'amazing'."

"Jay Halstead- described as 'far too good for the world' by the humble and decorated OA Zidan-"

"I also called you a 'dumbass' but whatever, goodnight Jay. And seriously, ask Hailey out."

[study-coffee-chicago]

Contract Killer (A Halstead brothers + Halstead! sister + Hailey Upton imagine)

Very, very loosely based off of season 2 ep 3 of PD titled "The Weigh Station".

What if Hailey's story meeting Jay is a little different? And it's all because of one big bad decision and seeing Y/N.

Hailey looked through her binoculars at the man who, if she could help it, would be dead within 48 hours. She could make it 24 if she really wanted to, but she needed to make sure she was alone and that she had time to get it to whoever needed to see him dead. Even though she was the one tasked with killing him, she had no idea who actually put the bounty out on his head. Someone she had put in prison (ironically, the reason they were in prison was for being a contract killer) when she worked in robbery-homicide had called her once they were out and told her about this opportunity. And, since Hailey had been fired from her job for a rumor that went around that she was sleeping with a superior officer and didn't actually pass the detective's exam (both were lies), she needed money, so she agreed to the hit.

A girl walked out of the house, surprising her. She looked too young to be one of Halstead's flings. She looked between 15 and 20 from where she was looking. Maybe she just had a babyface, though. Yeah, definitely just a babyface.

The girl walked outside and to her car with a backpack. She was starting her car when Jay Halstead ran out of the house and handed her what Hailey assumed was a textbook.

Shit, she thought, this girl's in high school or college, so it definitely wasn't a fling or a one night stand. If this was a younger sibling or relative that he was taking care of, then there was no way she was going through with this. When people were helping out their younger family members, well, that's where Hailey drew the line. She knew that Jay had an older brother, Will, but he was a doctor and could take care of himself. If Halstead had a younger sister that was still dependent on him financially or otherwise, well then there was no way she could do this.

Hailey pulled out her burner phone and called the burner number that was given to her in case she needed more information or she encountered any problems.

"JP," she started, "does Halstead have any siblings besides Will? There's a girl at his house and she looks too young to be sleeping with him."

She heard keys clacking on the other end. It took longer than she had expected. "Shit," JP said. "He's got a younger sister, Y/N Halstead. She's twenty and according to this, she lives with him since their parents are dead and she's in college. Need me to hand this off to someone else?"

"Yeah, you know I only did this for the money and my one drawback is people who are dependent on the people you want me to kill."

"What do you know about this guy?" JP asked. He assumed she didn't know much about him.

"They just told me that he was an ex-army ranger who killed innocent civilians in Afghanistan."

"God, they lied to you so hard, Upton," JP told her. "He's a detective with the Intelligence Unit of the CPD. And, he saved people overseas, he didn't kill them."

"Shit. I'm out. I'm definitely out."

Then, she hung up. But, she promised herself that he'd try her best to protect him. After all, she had taken this job, so maybe she could fix it by trying to protect him. She wasn't doing it for him, though. She was only doing it for his little sister. If it were just him, he'd be dead in less than two days.

***

You poured syrup on your waffles at the small diner you and your brothers had gone out to. It was a rare night where you didn't have any major studying to do, Will wasn't working or on call, and Jay wasn't working on a case or undercover, so you were all out for dinner together.

"How's school?" Will asked.

"You know, the usual. Homework, tests, papers," you answered.

"That's code for she constantly complains about how much homework she has, but does it anyway," Jay joked.

"At least I have less school than him," you said, pointing at Will. "And, I'll still get the doctor title."

You wanted to be a sports psychologist, which required a doctorate degree. So, instead of there just being one doctor in your family, there'd be two.

"And you're crazy to think that I'll address as Dr. Halstead."

"Hey, at least it's not a medical doctor," you pointed out, knowing Jay's hatred for needles and hospitals in general.

"But a shrink might be even worse, Jay. She'll be able to see through your shitty I'm fine excuses for how you're feeling mentally after you take yet another bullet."

"You've used up how many of your nine lives now? Four? Five?" you laughed.

"One day he'll realize he isn't invincible," Will said, agreeing with you.

Hailey was watching from afar when she saw a man in a black hoodie enter the diner. She didn't think anything of it, but in hindsight, she wishes she would have been able to look a little closer.

You heard a Pop! and then you were roughly pushed off your stool by Jay and onto the ground, all while hearing him yell.

"Get down! Get down!"

The shots continued and you screamed from underneath your brother.

"You're okay, you're covered," Jay told you.

And then, silence. The shots had stopped.

Slowly, Jay looked up, making sure the shooter was in fact gone.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he got up.

Before you could even answer him, Will was next to you, looking you over in a way that only a trained medical professional would.

"Did we- did we just get shot at?"

"We did," Jay answered. "But, we're gonna get out of here. I'm gonna call Voight and we're gonna figure this out. Did I hurt you at all when I pushed you off that stool?"

"No."

"Stay with Will."

And you did just that while Jay went off to call his unit.

Meanwhile, Hailey watched as squad cars pulled up a few minutes later. From the side of their cars, Hailey saw that Jay's unit was in the 21st district. Now whoever got hired to do the hit wasn't just going after Jay, he was going after his family. And, that's where Hailey drew the line. She knew where she'd be going tomorrow morning.

***

"Sergeant Platt," Hailey said as she walked into the 21st district of Chicago at promptly 8 o'clock the next morning.

"Goldilocks! What can I do for you?" Platt always had a soft spot for the young detective (hence the nickname) since she had responded to a call at her father's restaurant when Hailey was a kid and she was working the beat. And, they had kept in contact ever since. Platt may or may not have been the reason that Hailey got into the academy on her first try.

"I need to talk to you." Hailey looked around, and seeing a bunch of patrol officers, she decided this might not be the best place. "Alone. Somewhere preferably without cameras."

Platt gave Hailey a confused look but led her downstairs anyway. "What's going on?"

"So, I may or may not have taken a job to kill Jay Halstead, but--"

"Wait, wait, wait. I think my hearing is going. Did you just say you took a job to kill detective Halstead?"

"I said I may or may not have, but it's closer to may have."

"Jesus Christ, Hailey, I know you got fired, but why?" Platt asked, stunned.

"Before you tell anyone, once I learned he had a sister, I backed out. But, I needed money and I got terrible information because whoever wanted this hit said that he killed innocent civilians when he was overseas. So, excuse me for trying to rid the world of someone who I thought was the scum of the earth."

"So, you didn't even take one shot at him?" she asked, trying to figure out how she could keep Hailey out of trouble.

"Not even one."

"Please tell me you have useful information because I have to hand this over to Voight...and he will not hesitate to put you away if you have nothing useful."

"I have a name, but he won't get it unless my name isn't even mentioned with this case. And, I want to help. After all, it is kind of my fault this started in the first place."

"You are so lucky Voight owes me a favor, Goldilocks."

***

Hailey was currently sitting in Voight's office with Platt next to her. Platt had explained the whole thing to him, but Voight still wanted to talk to her. He had one more proposition.

"Since there's no evidence tying you to the shooting, I can't press charges anyway. Do you know who happened to have shot at Halstead and his family last night?" Voight asked, all of his anger was gone by now because he had used it up when Trudy Platt first came to him.

"I was there watching, just to make sure nothing happened. But, I didn't get a good look at his face. And, he reached into his pocket so fast and I was so far away that I didn't realize it was a gun. If I had known, I wouldn't have hesitated to try and stop him." Voight nodded. "All I saw was that the shooter was wearing a black hoodie. Sorry I don't have more."

"Okay, Upton, here's the deal," Voight started, "I need a name and I need someone to watch over Halstead and his sister during this, make sure his sister doesn't go out anywhere alone, and that Halstead doesn't do anything stupid. You can do those two things, and I'll leave your name out of this and you can work the case. You have my word."

"So, you want me to be their bodyguard?" Hailey asked, cocking one eyebrow.

"If you want to put it that way, yeah. Only certain times when we're short patrolman or it's nighttime because I know a lot of them sleep when they're supposed to be paying attention."

"Okay, I'm in. The name's JP."

"Any phone number? Other important personal information?" Voight asked.

"I called a burner last time I talked to him, but I doubt he's still using it. I can still give it to you if you want it though." Voight handed her a sticky note and a pen from his desk and Hailey quickly scribbled down the number and handed it back to him. "As for personal information, I know he has a son. I don't know his exact age, but I know he's at least 18."

"Good to know," Voight nodded. "Thanks, Trudy," she turned to leave, but Voight stopped her. "Can you send Halstead in? Need him to meet his new protection detail."

"Platt said you needed me, Sarge?" Jay asked as he entered Voight's office, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, Halstead, take a seat. Upton, you too," he added, seeing as Hailey was still standing.

Jay furrowed an eyebrow as he saw the new blond detective. She was short, had wavy blond hair, and was wearing jeans and a blue flannel, which she wore with the sleeves buttoned up to just below her elbows.

"Am I getting a new partner?" Jay asked.

"Something like that. Meet your new protection detail, Jay. This is detective Hailey Upton."

"Sarge, no offense, but I don't need protecting. If this is about the person who shot at me last night, I can handle it." He wouldn't admit it, but he didn't want a girl as his personal bodyguard. He'd dealt with partner problems in the past with Erin, and now that she was gone, he didn't want another workplace romance. And, he was more than capable of defending himself. Also, he wouldn't say this out loud, but if someone tried to come after him, he had doubts that she'd be able to protect them both, just because of her small stature.

"It's not you that I'm worried about. It's Y/N," Voight stated.

"Oh, yeah, of course." He wasn't going to lie, after last night he didn't want his sister going out alone either. Despite you being in college, he still worried about you.

"She'll only be there at night, just in case you get called on a case. That way, Y/N won't be alone."

"Is that really necessary? Every night until this gets figured out? Will can stay with her, he's got a permit to carry. So, the only time she really needs to be over there is when he's on a night shift at Med."

"Your- Will," Hailey quickly stopped herself, before she let Jay know that she knew that Will was his older brother, "Will's not a cop, is he?"

"No. My brother's a doctor. Why does that matter anyway?" Jay asked, annoyance in his voice.

"Because I'm pretty sure that I'm a better shot than he is."

"Another reason is that, if someone is really watching you, they won't think twice about Hailey being there," Voight said.

"What?"

"Think about it, Halstead. If a random guy is at your house all the time, whoever's watching will know someone's protecting you. But, if it's a girl, they won't think that."

Jay turned his head, digesting what his sergeant had just told him. "Wait, wait, wait, you want her to pretend to be my girlfriend? You want us off pretending to play house while my life, Will's life, and Y/N's life are in danger?" Jay was raising his voice at this point, and it kind of scared Hailey, but she remained calm on the outside.

At this, Voight slammed his hands on his desk. And, Jay didn't miss how Hailey jumped at the sudden action but quickly regained her composure. "Dammit, Halstead! She's staying with you and that's final! There will be a patrol car parked outside your and Will's houses at all times. But, I can't risk patrol falling asleep at your house at night, so Upton's staying with you. End of discussion." He looked at both detectives. "You're dismissed."

"I'm gonna go pack a bag," Hailey broke the uncomfortable silence between the two. "Be at your house tonight at 6?"

"Yeah. Here's my address." He wrote his address down and handed it to her. God, he had some explaining to do.

***

Hailey quickly scribbled a note to her boyfriend, thanking God that he wasn't home from work yet before she had to leave.

Going undercover. Don't try to call my phone. Don't want a repeat from last time. Idk how long this job will be.

~Hailey.

One time when she was undercover, she didn't have time to go home and grab her things; they just threw her right in with a robbery crew in hopes that they could bust them. They did, but not before her boyfriend, Zach, came looking for her and almost blew her cover. When they talked about it afterward, he said that he thought she was cheating on him, so he went to find her.

That should have been her first red flag.

Hailey shook her head at the memories and left their barely furnished apartment. After putting the address into her phone, she started the drive to the Halsteads.

***

When she got there, she knocked and was met with the one and only Y/N Halstead.

"Can I help you?" you asked, seeing a girl you didn't know with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

"I'm a friend of Jay's. Can I come in?"

"Uh, sure." You stepped out of the doorway to allow this mystery girl to come in. "Jay!" you yelled to your brother who was currently in the kitchen with Will. "Your friend's here!"

Jay walked into the living room, followed by Will, to see both you and Hailey. "I wouldn't necessarily call her a friend," Jay stated.

"Well, then your fuck buddy's here."

Will smacked you upside the head before Jay could even scold you for doing that. "Y/N, just go upstairs to your room for a bit to cool down," Will told you.

"I don't need to cool down," you argued.

"You sure as hell do," Jay told you. "Go upstairs. Now."

And that was the voice that scared you the most: Jay's stern, do what I say or else voice, which had you turning on your heels and almost jogging upstairs to your room.

Jay, Hailey, and Will made their way to the kitchen where Jay had been making pasta before Hailey arrived.

"Is she always like this?" Hailey asked, just now realizing what she had gotten herself into.

"Not typically," Will answered. "It's just that, after last night..." he trailed off, not wanting to say what actually happened in case Hailey didn't know or couldn't know.

"She knows," Jay said. "She's actually here to make sure Y/N's never alone through all of this so nothing like last night happens again."

"Oh, wow. Okay. Does she know that?"

"I was gonna tell her before she went off the rails like that," Jay answered his older brother. He turned back to Hailey. "I'm sorry about her, really. After last night, she's kinda pissed at me for putting her in danger like that."

Hailey furrowed her eyebrows, wondering if that was actually the truth. "You mind if I go talk to her?" She knew she might have been overstepping, after all, she had just met you, but she knew it was better than either one of your brothers talking to you.

"I guess it couldn't hurt," Jay agreed. "I'll show you your room too since it's right next to hers."

Hailey nodded and the three of them walked upstairs. They showed Hailey to the guest room, where she set her bag on the bed. It was a normal-sized bedroom, with a bed, a dresser, and a tv atop the dresser.

They walked next door to your room, and Hailey knocked on your door. "Hey, Y/N? It's Hailey. Can I come in please?"

"Are my brothers with you?" you asked as you slumped against your bed, tears of embarrassment rolling down your face.

Hailey tilted her head towards the stairs, silently telling the two boys to go back downstairs. To her surprise, they both actually listened.

"No, it's just me," Hailey confirmed.

"It's open." Hailey walked over to you, but not before you started apologizing. "I'm really sorry. It's just, a lot of things happened last night and I don't know how to feel and I just took all my emotions out on you. I'm really sorry," you told her, barely pausing for breath during your explanation.

"Hey, it's okay. Lots of emotions come out when you get shot at...especially when loved ones are in the picture," Hailey reassured you.

"How did you know about that?" It's not like you had seen her around here before, so she wasn't enough in the loop that Jay or Will would tell her. She wasn't in Intelligence. She wasn't one of the responding officers from the scene last night. And, she wasn't a customer at the diner at the time of the shooting.

"That's actually why I'm here. I'm essentially your bodyguard."

"Wow, didn't know I was special enough to have a bodyguard. Are you a cop?" Hailey nodded. "Can I see your badge?" That was one thing Jay had drilled into you: always ask a cop to see their badge.

Hailey handed you her badge and you quickly studied it, seeing it wasn't just a regular badge, but rather a detective's badge. "You're a detective?"

"Yeah, just like your brother," Hailey answered.

"So, do you know how long you're gonna be here for?" you asked, wondering how long another girl would be in the house. And, you didn't mind it, you liked her already, despite how rude you had been to her just fifteen minutes ago.

"As long as the case takes," she answered. "Now, are you good to go downstairs, or do you need some more time alone?"

"I'll be down there in a minute," you answered. "I just need to wash my face really quick."

A few minutes later, you walked downstairs to be met with Jay, Will, and Hailey all sitting at the table, plates full of pasta.

"Is that fettuccine alfredo?" you asked, looking at Jay. It had been your favorite dinner since the first time you went to Olive Garden when you were eight. And, after your mom died and your dad just kinda gave up as a parent, Jay took it upon himself to make sure that he made it for your birthday or any other special occasions you were involved in, such as your high school graduation.

"Figured you could use a pick me up after everything that happened last night," Jay answered.

"Thanks. And, I'm really sorry about earlier."

"I thought I raised you better than that," Will joked.

"You raised her?" Jay asked rhetorically. "I'm sorry, who is she living with right now? Who stepped up when someone was off partying in New York and feeling up girls?"

You almost choked on your pasta at Jay's description of plastic surgery. "First of all, they're called breast implants," Will pointed out. "Second of all, I cleaned up my act...eventually."

"Okay, let me answer this," you butted in. "Mom and Dad basically raised me, but you both helped me out when I was still a minor. There, problem solved."

"Fair enough, " Jay conceded. "But one last question: who taught you how to drive?"

"You."

"Which explains why she went into a ditch the first time she drove by herself in the snow and why she's always adding at least five miles to the speed limit," Will argued.

"Oh, shut up, Will. You drive like an old grandpa. I'm surprised you make it to work on time."

"Enough about us," Will started, turning to Hailey. "Tell us about yourself."

"Not much to tell. Born and raised in Chicago, used to be a detective for robbery-homicide until something, uh, popped off. And, now here I am," Hailey answered, easily avoiding saying that she was fired.

"Did you always wanna be a cop?" you asked.

"I guess I did. Someone broke into my dad's restaurant when I was a kid and I met the most badass female cop and from then on, I wanted to be like her. My dad wanted me to be a lawyer, but I thought that was boring, so here I am."

You nodded, thinking that it wouldn't be as fun to be a lawyer.

"Oh, before I forget," Jay began, "Y/N, as of tomorrow, all of your classes are switched to online."

"Okay."

"You're not mad about that?" Will asked.

"Oh hell no. Half the time I don't even get anything out of my lectures anyway. It just feels like time that could be spent doing homework for that class."

The four of you went back to your food, eating in comfortable silence. But, after a few minutes, you realized that you still had one more question.

"So, where am I going tomorrow? Am I staying here with Hailey or...?" you trailed off, secretly hoping you'd get to spend your days with the new detective. It was just nice to have someone with estrogen around the house instead of the amount of testosterone that was your brothers.

"Since Hailey's helping us work the case, you'll come to the district with me so that Hailey has time to sleep." That wasn't the real reason. There was a patrol car most of the time, but if they were short patrolman, Jay wanted to make sure that you'd be safe. And, the best way to do that would be for you to be in a building full of cops.

"Why can't I go to Med with Will?" you whined. Jay gave you a look that read you know why. "What? All I'm saying is the hospital has better vending machines than the district. But, I mean the district has better wifi, so there's that plus I guess."

"And you don't have to see Will's ugly mug all day," Jay joked.

"Hey! I'll have you know some women think I'm handsome."

"What women? Blind ones?"

And that's how the rest of the evening went, you all getting to know Hailey better and Hailey getting to know you all better.

***

You laid awake in bed, replaying the events of the day. You could see from the crack at the bottom of the door that there was a dim light coming from the hallway, so you assumed Hailey was still awake. Since Jay typically woke up at 5 due to his training in the military, they had agreed that Hailey would go to sleep at the time that he woke up and then would meet them at the district to work the case early in the afternoon. That way, she could still get some sleep and you'd still be safe during the hours that most criminal activity occurs. Despite this, you still couldn't sleep. It wasn't that you were scared, it was just that you felt terrible and knew that Jay deserved a better explanation as to why you lashed out earlier.

You got out of bed and quietly walked across the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible so Hailey didn't run out of her room, gun drawn, thinking that you were an intruder. You opened Jay's bedroom door just a crack when you heard the tv playing in the background. Seeing that he was still awake, you walked in.

"Hey."

"Hey, what's up?" Jay asked, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie that was currently playing.

"I'm sorry about earlier, with the fuck buddy comment."

"You already apologized. Is there something you're not telling me?"

You moved to sit on the edge of his bed so that you were facing him. "It's just, yesterday when we were shot at, it made me realize how you could be gone so fast. I guess the reason I lashed out is that I was sad and scared."

Even in the dim light from the tv, you could see how much your words had affected Jay. "It's okay to be scared, Y/N. But just know that I have the best unit in the whole city that's got my back okay?"

"But they didn't yesterday and that's the scary part." You felt tears prick your eyes and knew that there was no point in holding them back, so you just let them roll down your cheeks. "If someone you put away gets out of prison and then wants revenge, they can come up to you and get you anytime, Jay. I- Me and Will thought we lost you when you got shot the last time. We can't go through that again. Because next time, you might- you might not make it. And, I need my big brother."

Jay sighed, trying to convince himself not to cry. You had never really talked about the night that he got shot trying to help Angela, and he'd be lying if it didn't worry both him and Will about how much you were bottling up those feelings. He thought you had gotten over it, hell he thought he had gotten over it, but last night had brought up those old fears for you.

Gently, Jay placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I need my little sister, too. I don't think Will can be as intimidating as me when it comes to boys either, so you need me." Despite your tears, your lips turned up into a slight smile at Jay trying to make light of the situation at hand. "And, I will always try my best to come home to you and Will. Always. And, you don't need to worry about me, because you'll be stuck with me at the district until we figure this out."

"Voight put you on desk duty?"

"I'm not thrilled, but he made the right call."

"Yeah, he did. And, you should talk to Hailey. She seems like your type."

***

When Hailey woke up the next day, she was surprised to look in the fridge to find a Tupperware container and a mug, stuck to both was a sticky note with her name on it.

Hailey, made extra for breakfast. There's eggs and bacon in here.

~Jay

And on the mug, he wrote:

Didn't know how you like your coffee, and I had some leftover in the pot this morning before I washed it, so it's yours. There's milk and creamer in the fridge and sugar in the cabinet to the left of the stove.

~Also Jay

Hailey smiled at his little notes and then put the food in the microwave. "Not bad," she said to herself after she took the first few bites. Then, she heated up the coffee and drank it as is...she liked black coffee, so she didn't bother with creamer or milk.

She started to get ready and then pulled out her phone. Y/N was probably bored at the district, so she figured she could grab her some good coffee on her way in. If the coffee at Intelligence was the same as the kind at robbery-homicide, she was sure that a twenty-year-old wouldn't like it.

You were sitting at the table in the breakroom when your phone buzzed, alerting you that you had a text message. Hailey had said it was her and asked what coffee you liked and mentioned Starbucks. So, you told her a vanilla sweet cream cold brew would be great and thanked her and also offered to give her five bucks when she got to the district. But, she told you she'd get it.

You went to rummage around in your backpack for a different notebook when Jay walked in. "How's it goin'?" he asked as he walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself more coffee.

"I don't know how you drink that stuff. The kind here is gross."

Jay shrugged, "Eh, you get used to it after a while."

"I guess," you agreed, grabbing your notebook but not zipping up your backpack.

"What are you working on now?"

"I have to watch some boring ass sociology lectures," you answered, opening your laptop.

"Ew," he took a seat next to you and started drinking his coffee, but not without knocking over your backpack. "No way," he said as he repositioned your bag and reached into it.

"What?" When you saw his hand in your backpack, you tried to grab it back, but he already had his hand wrapped around the object that you wanted to stay hidden. "Give her back!" you shouted as Jay ran out of the room with your stuffed cat in his hand.

You had brought your stuffed animal with you in case you had gotten stuck at the district overnight. Who knows, Hailey and Jay could be out working a case and you wouldn't have been able to go home. So, as a way of making yourself feel secure, you had put your stuffed animal, whom you affectionately named Kitty as you were three years old when it was gifted to you, in the bottom of your backpack. That way, if you had to sleep on the couch in the breakroom, you could tuck it away between the back of the couch and you, so that no one could see that you still slept with a stuffed animal.

"Jay!" you yelled, chasing after him, "Give it back!"

"Never!" he yelled back, running into an interrogation room. You followed him, hoping that he forgot to lock the door.

But, you were both lucky and unlucky as Jay was currently standing with his back to the door, keeping it closed despite how hard you pushed. You heard footsteps walking up the stairs into the bullpen, and he still wasn't budging. "Jay, someone's coming! Please!" you begged, not wanting the entire unit to know that you still slept with a stuffed animal.

You heard laughing from him on the other side of the door. "Give it back!" you tried again, fists pounding on the door.

"Give what back?"

"You know what!"

"No, I don't. What do I have that you want, Y/N?"

"Kitty. Now C'mon Jay!" You heard footsteps coming down the hall where the interrogation rooms were. God, you hoped it wasn't Ruzek; he'd never let you live this one down.

"You'll have to be more specific than that." Even though you could only hear him, you knew he was smirking on the other side of that door.

"Give me Kitty, my stuffed animal, Jay!"

"There it is." He opened the door just as you saw Hailey approaching the both of you. He quickly handed you back your stuffed animal and you hid it behind your back.

"Was that a toy?" Hailey asked, holding your coffee.

"Y/N sleeps with a--" you elbowed your brother in the stomach, and he groaned, which shut him up.

Then, you heard more voices. This wasn't good. You didn't have a jacket on, so had no way of hiding it on your way back to the breakroom. "Jay, I think they need you," Hailey said.

"And you got coffee for who?" he asked her.

"Y/N. Now go. They have to get you up to speed."

"They'll have to get you up to speed, too," he argued. "You just got here."

"Just tell them I'll be there in a minute."

Jay walked away, a smirk still plastered on his face because of how embarrassed he made you. When he was for sure out of earshot, Hailey held out her hand. "Give it to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you denied.

"The stuffed animal, Y/N. I'll hide it in my jacket on our way back to the breakroom and then you can hide it from there. I grew up with three older brothers, so I know how it is."

You handed it over to her and she placed it in her jacket, then you walked to the breakroom, but not without glaring at your brother on your way there. Once it was securely stashed in your backpack and you tried to give Hailey money for the coffee, but she refused as she had told you she'd do, only then did Hailey leave you alone in the breakroom to be with the rest of the unit.

"That was mean," Hailey whispered to Jay when she was in the bullpen.

"Something wrong?" Voight asked, looking at the two detectives.

"No, what do we got so far?" Jay asked, turning his attention to Voight.

Voight stuck a picture on the board, causing Hailey to swallow. It was JP.

"This scumbag is JP." Hailey wanted to say he wasn't as much of a scumbag as they probably thought, but since he associated with her boyfriend, Zach, and knew what happened in that apartment and didn't say anything, he was still sort of a scumbag. But, then again, Hailey hadn't talked about what happened in that apartment either, so maybe she was a scumbag for keeping Zach safe. But, he swore he had cut ties with Zach, so who knows what he'd do to keep himself out of jail. "CI said that he might know some information about who wanted the hit. Swears it wasn't JP, that he was just the person hiring."

Great, so she was a CI now, Hailey thought to herself.

"So we just get him to give up the guy who wants the hit done?" Ruzek suggested. "Simple enough."

"Not when he's not talking," Voight said. "He hasn't given us a single thing. But, we can hold him for 48 hours on conspiracy, so hopefully, he'll give something up or whoever wanted the hit will get sloppy within that time."

Hailey knew that JP wouldn't crack, so her only hope was that whoever wanted the hit would get sloppy.

***

"We have five more hours or this son of a bitch gets cut loose. So, do whatever you gotta do," Voight told his unit almost two days later. It had been 43 hours since they had arrested JP and so far all they had learned was that his real name was Joe Price. He wasn't talking and they were running out of time. "Upton, a quick word?"

Hailey followed Voight to his office and she closed the door behind them. "You mentioned JP's got a son who's at least 18. Anything you think we could use as leverage? Because at the moment, he ain't talkin'."

Hailey thought for a moment. "He mentioned once that his son was going to apply for the TSA, but couldn't get in because of a misdemeanor I think."

Voight nodded, thinking. "Maybe he'll flip if I get the charges sealed." Then, they left his office and he made his way to the interrogation room.

"We know about your son, JP," Voight said as he entered the room where Jay and Kevin were currently trying to get him to spill information, even though trying was useless at this point.

At this, JP lifted his eyes to meet the sergeant's. "What's there to know?" he asked bitterly.

"We know that he applied for TSA but can't get in."

"Yeah, because of this pissant obstruction charge from when he was eighteen. But, you don't really care about that unless there's something in it for you, do you?"

"You could say that," Voight started, walking around the table."Tell us who's behind this and I can get those charges sealed. It'd take time, but I can get it done."

JP pondered this for a moment. "You're not just blowing smoke up my ass?"

"You have my word," Voight answered.

JP nodded. "Patrick Shostack. New breed of contract killer. He'll kill the kids if he can't get to the parents. Take out an entire city block just for one target. What I did before I went in, there was honor in it. I've got the stomach for a lot of things, but not for this. This new breed, I ain't got the stomach for that."

"Can we get in contact with this Shostack guy?" Jay asked.

"He's got a messaging service. Whether he calls back, I don't know."

Voight slid a phone over to him and JP dialed the number. "Tell him you have Halstead," Voight told him. "You wanna make a deal. We'll take a photo of him dead. We'll rig it."

"And if he doesn't go for it?"

"Improvise."

JP left a message and then the three left the room.

"Think this will work?" Hailey asked Jay since she had been watching the interview from the next room.

"We'll see."

It had been ten minutes and Voight and Halstead were sitting in the interview room with JP, waiting for the phone to ring. Ruzek had rigged up a line so that they could all hear what Shostack was saying.

The phone rang, and Hailey held her breath.

"Hello?"

"JP." Shostack said on the other end. "Didn't expect a call from you."

"Well, I have something you may want, Shostack."

"And that is? I'm a man who desires many things."

"Halstead," JP answered.

"Thought you backed out."

Please God, do not say my name, Hailey thought to herself.

"I did. But then, I heard they were paying you more and I want in."

"What do you want?"

"Half," JP answered. "And you better make a decision quick because the drugs I pumped into him are gonna wear off soon."

"One third and we have a deal," Shostack told him.

"Deal. I'll take care of it and bring you a photo for proof."

"No, no, no. Just because I trust you, doesn't mean I don't want to see him alive. Well, I couldn't care either way to be frank with you. But, there's someone else who needs to see him alive."

Before he could even think about how what he was going to do could affect other people, Jay pointed to the phone and gave a thumbs up. "Deal," JP told Shostack.

They decided on a meeting place and then walked out. Hailey quickly grabbed Jay's arm and dragged him into the other interrogation room.

"What the hell was that?" she shouted. "Y/N was so worried about you when you guys were shot at the other day and now you're putting yourself in danger not even three days later!"

"Last I checked, your title was detective and not sergeant Upton. I can make my own choices!" Jay argued.

"Did you even think? Your choices affect other people besides you, Halstead!"

"I can handle myself out there! Have a little faith would you?"

"Someone wants your head on a silver platter and all you can think about is making this case! Do you even have regard for your own safety?"

Jay pointed an accusing finger at Hailey, inches away from her face. "You are just here to babysit Y/N. So get back to her and do the job you're here to do and I'll do mine...without you fucking interfering with it."

Hailey scoffed and left the room, leaving him alone. And, Jay went downstairs to get ready for the meet.

***

"Is he always a dick?" Hailey asked, walking into the breakroom after taking some time to cool off.

"Who? Ruzek? He never means for his jokes to go that far. If you tell him they're upsetting you, then he'll stop," you answered.

"No, not Ruzek. Your brother."

You turned to face Hailey dead on. "You questioned his abilities to do his job, didn't you?"

"Now that you put it that way, I guess I did," Hailey answered, trying to figure out why that would make Jay so mad.

Luckily, she didn't have to ask as you decided to explain. "That's one of the only times he gets really mad--unless I do something stupid like that comment the other day. Our dad was always telling him to go into the workforce instead of the military and then becoming a cop. He didn't have respect for what Jay did. He didn't have respect for what Will did either, which is why he had to put himself through undergrad and med school."

Hailey nodded. Stuff from your past coming into the present and making emotions run high was something that she was all too familiar with.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Hailey suggested, hoping that would keep you occupied until Jay and the rest of the team got back.

You opened Netflix and then started the movie, thinking nothing of it. Hailey on the other hand, was silently worried about Jay, even if he had just yelled at her. She was only worrying about what would happen to you though if something happened to him...at least, that's what she told herself anyway.

***

You and Hailey looked up from the movie when you heard movement in the bullpen. Seeing that everyone was back, you both left to see what was up.

The first thing you noticed was how red Jay's wrists were. "Jay, what happened?" you asked, walking closer to him.

"I learned that I could choke out a suspect when my hands are zip-tied in front of me." You put your hands on your hips, not appreciating his sass. "I'm fine, Y/N, really. Now, let the big kids do their jobs and go back and do whatever you were doing. I gotta go do an interrogation."

"Can I watch?" you asked.

"I'm sorry," Ruzek stepped in. "Did you just ask if you could watch Halstead do an interrogation?"

"Adam," you whined, "I'm bored."

"Then go for a walk or get food or something," he suggested.

"Dude!" Jay yelled. "She can't be alone right now!"

"Oh yeah, right. Go get something from the vending machines or something."

"Halstead, Atwater," Voight said, breaking up the little quarrel, "Go interrogate Shostack."

"Voight, can I talk to you for a second?" Hailey asked as you walked back into the breakroom.

You were scrolling through social media, trying to find something interesting that kept your attention, when you started to hear Voight and Hailey's conversation. His office was right next to the breakroom, and it's not like the walls were soundproof. You put in your headphones so that if anyone peeked in, it wouldn't look like you were eavesdropping.

"Just let me interview Shostack," you heard Hailey say.

"Hailey, I know you feel bad about starting this mess, but I can't let you in there. If word gets out that you were a snitch, then that would spell bad news."

What did Voight mean by that? you thought to yourself. How was Hailey in on the hit on Jay's life?

"Could be an asset. I might be able to say I know JP and then he'll tell me more."

"I gave you an out so that you could work this case and not get taken down for stalking Halstead and wanting to kill him. You go in there now, and the deal's off the table. I will bury you." Voight paused and you held your breath. "You said you took the murder for hire because you needed money. Why?"

"It's my boyfriend." Hailey was so quiet when she said that, that you had to strain your ears to even hear it.

"Is he hurting you?" Silence. "I can help you, Hailey. Just tell me what's going on."

"I'm gonna go. I promise you I won't interview him." Then, Hailey left Voight's office.

But, you knew one thing: there was no way you'd be staying at your house tonight with Hailey.

***

Hailey said that she had to take a shower, and Jay was still at the district doing paperwork, so you figured now was as good a time as any.

You knew there was a party going on a few blocks from here, so you decided you'd go. You grabbed your wallet and phone and slowly slipped down the stairs and out the back door. Now you just had to make sure that Jay didn't find out. You couldn't give a damn if Hailey lost her mind over your disappearance. She deserved it after all.

Jay was sitting at his desk, trying not to fall asleep when his phone rang. "Hailey? What's going--"

"I need you to ping Y/N's phone now! I got out of the shower and she was gone and I don't know where she is and she didn't leave a note or anything!"

"Slow down," he told her, even though he wanted to freak out as much as she was. "How long were you in the shower?"

"Fifteen minutes."

Jay cradled the phone with his shoulder as he typed away at his computer. "Is her car there?"

There was a pause as Hailey looked out the window. "Yeah, it's here."

"Okay, she couldn't have gone far." He moved his mouse to zoom in. "I got a location."

When you got close to the party, you decided you didn't really want to go there. If by some miracle Jay's unit found you, you didn't want to wreck their fun. So, you kept walking. That was until you heard your name being called from behind you.

"Shit," you muttered, breaking into a run.

"Y/N, stop!"

Dammit, that one was definitely worse. You looked ahead and then turned around. There was nowhere to go; you were cornered between two detectives.

You tried to dodge Jay, but he was too fast and quickly grabbed onto you and held you tight against him until you calmed down. "Stop fighting! Stop fighting, Y/N! We're going home! What the hell were you thinking?"

You calmed down enough to stop squirming, but you were still furious. "What was I thinking?" you yelled. "I was thinking that she--" You pointed an accusing finger at Hailey. "wanted to kill you. She got hired to do that hit, Jay! She was going to fucking kill you and you want me to be alone with her?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard her! I heard her talking to Voight earlier about interviewing that one guy and he said she couldn't because no one could know that she was hired to kill you! I don't give a flying fuck if you need the money, Hailey! Yow wanted my big brother dead!"

Still holding onto you, Jay looked directly at Hailey. "Please tell me it's not true. That she tripped and hit her head or something."

Hailey looked at the ground. "It's true but--"

"Unbelievable!"

"Just let me explain, okay?" Hailey argued.

"What's there to explain?"

"Just listen to the reason I needed the money!"

"So you needing money takes priority over my life!" Jay spat.

"God, I got bad information! They said you killed innocent people overseas and I didn't know you had a little sister, so I stopped when I saw that--"

"So you were stalking me?"

"Dammit, Jay! I needed the money to get away from my boyfriend! But like you fucking care! I was just starting to care about your life and now it's just become a big inconvenience!"

"Go home, Hailey! I never wanna see you again." He looked down at you. "We never wanna see you again!"

"Fine! Get a new protection detail because the person who wants you dead is still out there until Shostack gives Intelligence something!"

Then, Hailey got in her car and drove away and Jay finally let go of you. "Get in the car," he told you sternly.

"Jay, I'm sorry--"

"Just get in the damn car, Y/N!"

You walked over to the car and pulled on the handle. "Jay."

"What?" It took all his strength not to blow up on you when you were both still outside.

"It's locked."

He unlocked the car and got into the driver's seat, you in the passenger seat. "I'm sorry," was all you said as Jay started driving.

"You could've gotten yourself killed! Whoever this new breed of contract killer is, apparently they won't stop until they get me and they'll do it by whatever means necessary! So, excuse me for being worried!"

"It's not like I could stay home with Hailey when I knew she wanted to kill you!"

"But you could've told someone! You could've told me!" The next part, he said quieter, which almost made it worse than if he would've yelled it. "How fucking stupid can you get?"

It's not like he had never called you stupid, he had, but it was always jokingly and when you were kids. But, this time, it felt different, like he meant every single word he said. You put your hand over your mouth, to try and stop yourself from sobbing, but one came out anyway.

Jay didn't even seem to notice, just kept his eyes focused on the road and his jaw clenched.

When you got home, you jumped out of the car, not even waiting for Jay to completely put it in park. Then, you ran into the house, only to crash into Will.

"Whoa! Slow down!" he said, grabbing ahold of you to stop you from falling.

You yanked your arm out of his hand. "Let go of me!" you yelled and then ran straight to your room and slammed the door shut for good measure.

"What happened?" Will asked as Jay walked inside.

At this, Jay finally grasped the gravity of the moment and what he had done. "I fucked up, Will. I fucked up so bad."

"So, you let Y/N sneak out. That's happened to everyone. If I remember correctly, me and you did it all the time," Will said, trying to lighten the mood.

"This isn't like that and you know it." Jay paused and took a deep breath. "God, I should've never left her alone with Hailey."

"Why? What's wrong with Hailey?" Will asked. And so, Jay told him. And Will was as shocked as Jay was.

"What did you say to Y/N?"

Jay sat on the couch and put his head in his hands. He hated what he had done only because their dad had said the same thing to Jay when he was younger and you were in the room and defended your big brother, telling your dad that Jay wasn't in fact stupid, but smart. "I called her fucking stupid, Will." He rubbed his hands on his face, pissed at himself. "God, I did what Dad did that one day and she stood up for me. I'm a terrible brother."

Will sat down next to his younger brother and put a comforting arm around him. "Jay, look at me." Jay lifted his head. "You are not a terrible brother, you are far from that. She'll come around and realize that. Now, do you know why Hailey needed the money?"

"Said she needed it to get away from her boyfriend or something like that," Jay shrugged.

"Do you know where she is right now?"

"No, and I really couldn't care less."

"Jay, listen to me. She said she needed it to get away from her boyfriend."

At this, Jay's head snapped up. "Oh, God. Oh, God. I gotta find her. Stay with Y/N!"

***

"How was the undercover assignment?" Zach asked Hailey as she let himself into their little apartment.

"Was good. You know I can't talk about an open investigation, Zach."

"Hmmm, so you weren't working with other cops?"

Hailey looked at him like he was crazy. How did he know that she was working with Halstead? "No, it was just me."

Then, he pulled a gun from his waistband. Hailey put her hands above her head in surrender. "Zach, let's just take a moment to think this through. How about you tell me what you think happened undercover?"

"And you'll answer my questions honestly?" he asked, but with a gun now pointed at her, it was more like a command.

"Why didn't you kill him?"

"Kill who?" she yelled.

"Jay Halstead! Why didn't you kill him?"

I don't know what you're talking about!" She lied, but then instantly regretted it as Zach took the gun and hit her in the stomach. She reached for her gun in her holster, but then Zach took his arm that wasn't holding the gun and twisted it behind her back. Hailey screamed out in pain and she screamed loud.

***

"Shostack," Voight began as he was pacing back in front of Patrick Shostack who was handcuffed in the cage, "you tell me everything you know about who wanted Halstead murdered and how and why a Chicago PD detective got brought in to kill him. Only then, when you tell me everything, will I even consider making a deal."

Shostack was already beginning to bruise from where Voight had hit him, so he decided it was in his best interest if he talked. He had heard rumors about this dirty cop and he knew that Voight wouldn't think twice about killing him to get answers. "The person who wants Halstead dead is Zach Grey."

Voight pulled out his phone and texted the name to Ruzek, telling him that they now had a suspect and to start going through everything about this guy. "What can you tell me about this Grey? How'd he know Halstead?"

"They were in the army together. Apparently, Grey wasn't good at following orders and made really stupid decisions out in the field. So, Halstead told their supervisor about it, and after a few more mess-ups that almost cost the unit their lives, Grey was dishonorably discharged."

"Why wait this long?" Voight asked.

"Dunno. I know Grey just moved to Chicago two years ago from California. He got a girlfriend and then he hatched this elaborate plan to get her to kill him."

"What's the girlfriend's name?"

"I don't know her name, man. I just know she was short and she was blond. Pretty little thing. Apparently, she was a cop, too. He figured that if anyone could get away with killing Halstead, she could."

"Did she know Grey was behind it?" Voight asked, thanking God that Hailey was with Jay because that description Shostack just gave him sounded a hell of a lot like Detective Hailey Upton.

"Not a chance. He called me and I got her to agree to the hit."

"I thought JP got her to agree to the hit?"

"That's where things get tricky. I used a voice modulator to disguise my voice. I told her, that if she needed money, she could kill this guy. I told her that Halstead killed innocents overseas and that he had no family other than his older brother, Will. Once she agreed to it, I gave her a number to call."

"And that number was JP?"

"Yeah. I think he knows Grey but doesn't know that he's the one behind all this. Told Upton that JP'd know what to do since he'd done it before. And, then it was all up to them after that. Didn't know she'd flip and try to help you, though. Now that was a shock."

"Did you know that Halstead has a little sister and that he's also a cop?"

"Yeah, but Grey told me what to say and promised me some of the money if the hit went through."

"Boss!" Adam yelled as he ran downstairs. "You gotta come see this!"

"We're done here," Voight said, turning back to Shostack and then going back upstairs into the bullpen.

Kevin turned the screen of his computer towards Voight. "If we got the right Zach Grey, then Hailey's got some explaining to do." In front of him was a picture from Instagram of Hailey and Zach, Zach kissing her on the cheek and it was posted only a few weeks ago.

"Please tell me you got an address for this prick."

Ruzek flipped through some papers and pulled one out. "Here's his LKA."

Voight nodded. "Let's roll out. I'll loop in Halstead."

Before Voight could even get a word in edgewise to the young detective on the other end of the phone, Jay butted in. "Did you know that Hailey was gonna kill me?"

"I know, but she backed out because she had gotten bad information--"

"You sound just like her! Why are you defending her?"

"She was trying to get out of a bad situation! Shostack told us everything, just trust me on this one. Please tell me that she's with you."

"She's not. I'm driving around looking for her right now. She said she needed to get away from her boyfriend before she left."

"Shit. Try this address."

Voight gave him the address, but Jay was wondering how they had gotten it. "How do you know where she is?"

"Does the name Zach Grey ring a bell?"

"We served together. I got him dishonorably discharged because he was being reckless and me and other guys almost died because of him. But, why is this important?"

"He's the one who wants you dead, Jay. He found out you were in Chicago and since he's Hailey's boyfriend, he figured she'd be able to get away with killing you."

"But he told her that I was the scum of the earth and didn't know I was a cop or had a little sister, so then she backed out," Jay said, piecing it together.

"Exactly."

"I'm on my way to Grey's place. Hopefully, he has no idea Hailey's been with me because Grey's got a temper."

Jay turned on his lights and sirens and sped through Chicago and into a more rundown place on the southside. He knew that Grey wasn't the best with money just based on how much he gambled overseas, so it made sense to him why he was living in this dump of an apartment complex.

Jay flashed his badge at the person who worked "security" and then made his way to the third floor, gun already drawn. He redialed Voight's number and held the phone between his shoulder and his ear. "What's your ETA?" he asked, creeping closer and closer to the apartment.

"Two minutes out."

Then, Jay heard an ear-piercing scream coming from the apartment where Grey was supposed to be. It sounded like a woman. It sounded like Hailey. "Sarge, I'm going in."

"Halstead, do you have protective gear?"

"Yeah, I grabbed it when I went looking for Y/N. Don't worry, it's on." Then, he ended the call.

"Chicago PD!" Jay yelled and then kicked in the door.

"Jay! Get out of here! He's gonna--"

"Shut it, bitch!" Zach twisted Hailey's arm even more, causing her to scream out in pain.

"Listen, Grey, I know you're pissed at me for what I did all those years ago, but Hailey didn't do any of that. You gotta let her go, man," Jay pleaded, gun trained on Zach.

"She was supposed to kill you!" He moved the gun so that it was now against Hailey's temple.

She whimpered, terrified. He had thrown her gun across the room, so she had no way of defending herself, not that she'd try with a gun against her head. She knew what to do in these situations, which was, wait until a moment of weakness and then get him. Or, wait for backup.

"You want me, right?" Jay asked, putting his hands above his head, gun still in hand. "Take the gun off her and point it at me."

"No!" But all Hailey got in response was Grey digging the gun further into her temple.

"Drop your gun," Grey ordered.

"Okay." Jay dropped the magazine out of his gun and then set it down on the floor.

"Now kick it away."

"Kicking it away," Jay narrated as he kicked his gun across the room.

Only then did Grey take the gun away from Hailey and point it at Jay. "Any last words Halstead?"

Now was Hailey's chance. He was distracted so Hailey swung around and knocked the gun from his hand. The minute the gun was on the ground, Jay jumped into action, tackling Grey as Hailey run at the guns, making sure that Grey couldn't get them. Jay flipped Grey around and pulled out his cuffs. "Get up," he told him after he was finished handcuffing him.

"Chicago-- Oh," Ruzek said as he and Voight entered the apartment to see Grey already handcuffed.

"Let's go get him booked," Voight said. Then, he looked at Hailey. "You should probably get to the hospital just to get checked out."

"I'm fine, really," she protested. "And I don't really want to spend the night in the hospital. It's the least I can do to help Jay with paperwork anyway."

"I'll call Will," Jay said as he handed Zach Grey off to Voight.

***

"Where's Jay?" you asked Will as you walked into the kitchen. You had cried enough and now needed to rehydrate.

"He went to go find Hailey."

That's when it hit you. I needed the money to get away from my boyfriend. Shit, he was hurting her.

"It's all my fault! If he hurts her, it's all my fault, Will!" you yelled.

"Hey, hey, no it's not," he said, taking the water glass from your hand. "We don't even know if he's physically abusing her. It could be emotional abuse. We could be wrong altogether. Don't worry about it."

You sighed and took the glass back to get some water. "Thaks, but that doesn't make me feel any better."

"I think there's hockey on," Will said, changing the subject. "Let's go watch that."

"Yeah, I guess. I'll be right back." You finished your water and put the glass in the dishwasher. Then, you went to your room to grab a blanket.

When you looked on your bed, you saw it was missing something. Kitty. Quickly, you grabbed your backpack and dumped out its contents. "Shit," you muttered as you realized you had left it on the couch of the breakroom at the district.

You ran downstairs, blanket forgotten. "Will! We gotta go to the--" He held up a hand, effectively silencing you. It was only then you saw that he was on the phone.

"Yeah, it's in my car. Yeah, I'll bring Y/N. We're on our way," Will said to whoever was on the other end and then hung up.

"What was that about?" you asked. You had a right to know because, from what you had heard, you had to go somewhere with Will.

"We gotta go to the district. Jay wants me to have a look at Hailey's shoulder, says she doesn't want to go to the hospital this late at night."

"Oh, okay. Can't be that bad because if it was broken or something Voight would make her go to the ED right?" you asked, partially blaming yourself.

"I'd hope so. Let's go."

You were walking up the stairs into the bullpen fifteen minutes later when one of your worst nightmares came true.

"Hey, did some kid leave their stuffed animal here?" Ruzek asked, holding up Kitty as he exited the breakroom.

You and Will shared a look that you hoped nobody else saw as you made your way over to Jay and Hailey. You were about to open your mouth and admit it was yours because you figured, if you didn't do it in the next few seconds, Jay would do it for you. But were surprisingly saved by Hailey.

"It's mine," Hailey lied. "My mom gave it to me and I wanted to get it out of the apartment before it became a crime scene."

"Oh," Ruzek said, furrowing his eyebrows and handing it to her. "Here you go I guess."

"Thanks."

When he turned around, Hailey handed it to you and you quickly shoved Kitty into one of Jay's desk drawers.

"Y/N, I just wanna apologize--"

"No, you were in trouble and trying your best to get out of it." Then, you stooped down and whispered in her ear, since she was sitting down, waiting for Will to examine her. "And you told Adam that that was yours, so it's the least I can do."

"So, we're all good?" she asked.

"We're all good," you confirmed.

"Now, let's take a look at that shoulder," Will said, unzipping his doctor's bag.

After a few minutes, he declared that it was just a light sprain, so it should be fine, even though it might hurt like hell.

"Good, because I need her to be okay," Voight said, exiting his office.

"What do you mean?" Hailey asked. It's not like she was one of his detectives.

"You helped us solve this case and led us to Grey. This wouldn't have been possible without you, Hailey," Voight told her.

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"Since Kim's on furlough right now and Erin left to go to New York, this unit is short...especially on female cops. What you did earlier, disarming Grey, you proved you can handle it here. So, what do you say? You wanna stay?"

"I'd be honored," Hailey answered, breaking out into a smile.

"Welcome to Intelligence, Detective Upton."

A/N: That was long! Sorry, it's taken me so long to update! I got a few ideas and never stuck with them until this one! Please vote and comment and tell me what you thought! Do you like more upstead centric stories or do you like the ones that mainly focus on Y/N and the Halstead bros? Also on my wattpad @ malewk172

[puckluck28]

A Merry Upstead Christmas!

This one is for my lovely Chicago PD Secret Santa recipient @upsteadhc for the prompt: “any prompt from an angst or fluff list” so I figured what’s better than an Upstead pregnancy oneshot. A little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas and a Happy Holiday Season!

*The prompts I’ve used are highlighted in bold. 

For Better or For Worse, Even When Pregnant

Hailey glanced at their front from her spot on the couch in their dimly lit living room before checking the time on her phone for what felt like the hundredth time. At reading the numbers that read 1:28 AM plastered over her background that was a photo of her and Jay from their gender reveal party a few months ago, she sighed and took another sip from her now semi-cold tea. Fighting the urge to close her eyes with each passing moment, she’d been hoping for a voice mail, a quick text, something, anything that would give her enough relief so she could at least attempt to sleep, but there was nothing, and the wait was driving her crazy. Since their last call, there was an uncomfortable feeling eating at her insides, something in the pit of her stomach that had been growing for a few days, and she knew it wasn’t just her nerves growing from being only a week away from her due date. She’d gotten this same feeling a few times in the past few years, and she prayed to God that this time wasn’t like those other times. 

Where the hell are you, Jay?

The unit had caught a big case a week ago: a dead pregnant girl that led the team to an international human and child trafficking ring smuggling young girls from all around the world into the States, forcing them to get pregnant, and selling the babies to God knows what kind of people. It was an understatement to say it was a rough case, even for Intelligence’s standards, and from the limited information Hailey knew about it from her lunch dates with Jay at the precinct, and the occasional calls and visits from Kim and Vanessa so Hailey wouldn’t actually lose her mind staying at home, it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park to solve. 

On a regular night, Hailey wouldn’t worry about Jay staying late to go over evidence or to work on paperwork, especially while they were working a new case, but this time felt different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about the way Jay had been especially quiet at home the past few days, those days that he had actually made it home before Hailey went to bed. It was almost as if he had been trying to avoid her, and successfully so. Then there were his texts: one word answers after taking forever to respond, that was if he responded. It wasn’t like she was expecting immediate responses or constant texting either. She knew that whenever a big case, especially something this big hit, it was all hands on deck with no room for distraction, but she at least expected a response, any response, when she asked if he’d be coming home for dinner, or if he was okay.

Now, having been partners with Jay for seven years, dated for two of those and married for one, Hailey could tell when a case, or someone, was irking him. So when he had started acting a little off the first time, she had given it to the combination of the caseload and having to work with a new partner now that she was officially on maternity leave, and done with desk duty, as per Voight and Platt’s orders. Jay’d been looking to find something to complain about his new partner from the day Voight had brought in Detective Aiden Thomas, a freshly minted detective from narcotics, as Hailey’s temporary replacement. Whether it was the way the young detective tabbed evidence files or the way he sipped his coffee during stakeouts, Jay found an excuse to text her, whining about being stuck with the new kid. So when the texts got more staggered and eventually stopped, Hailey had started getting suspicious and when she hit absolute radio silence the entire day that day, with no luck during the night either, Hailey knew it was time to call in back-up.

Around 10:00pm or so, Will had been the first person on her call list, not wanting to alert anyone on the team just yet if the older Halstead could reassure her enough to get that sleep she oh so craved. It also helped that she knew that Will was on call that night, him having shared his work schedule with Hailey since she was so close to her due date and who knew where Jay would be if she went into labor. Unlike his younger brother, Will had picked up Hailey’s call in two short rings. “Hailey? What’s up? Are you okay? Is it the baby?” He had asked in doctor mode. 

“Yea, we’re good. I was calling to see if you heard anything from Jay today?”

“Jay? He was here this morning to talk to an injured suspect but that’s about it.”

“Did you realize anything off with him?”

“Not that I could tell. He and his new partner were in and out. I didn’t even see them leaving.” Hailey sighed in defeat at her brother-in-law’s response. She had really hoped he would say something that would ease her growing nerves. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yea, yea things are fine.” Hailey took a deep breath. “I just haven’t heard from him the whole day and he hasn’t come home yet and…” Her voice trailed off as her words died.

“I can-”

“No, that’s alright.” She cut him off, turning down his offer. “I don’t want him to worry if they are working.”

“You sure?”

“Yea, knowing Jay, he’ll think I’m in labor or something and freak out.” She attempted at a joke to hide her worry. 

“You know, it would teach him not to ignore his pregnant wife.” That even earned a soft chuckle from Hailey.

“Thanks, Will. It’s not even that late, I’m sure it’s just me being paranoid.” She tried brushing it off. “You know how much I love staying home all day.”

“Don’t I know it?” Will went along even though he knew that for Hailey to be calling him, she must have a good reason to worry. “You and Jay are the worst people at enjoying doing nothing.”

“Yea, I’m ready to go back to work once your niece finally graces us with her presence.” She told him, her hands instinctively rubbing her 38, almost 39, week along belly at the thought of finally getting to meet her baby.

“I’d be careful wishing on that this close to your due date, Hailey. It might happen any day now.” He jokingly warned her, hoping he was providing some comfort with this distraction.

“I think it’s safe to say when it happens, you’ll be one of the first ones to know. I guess the first one to know if it happens during this call.” Hailey responded, though the only thing she could think of as silence fell was what she’d do if she were to go into labor now and Jay was nowhere to be found.

“Regardless, you know I’m here if you need me.” Will broke the silence.

“Thanks, Will. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Alright, but seriously, call me if you need anything. I’ll be up all night.”

“I will. Thanks, again. Good luck with your shift.”

“Any time. Now stop worrying about that knucklehead and try to get some sleep.” Will jokingly ordered and with a mumble of agreement, Hailey hung up. Sleep… She really hoped she’d be able to get a little bit of it that night.

She’d given him about an hour after calling Will, called and texted a few times, but when those had gone unanswered once again, she’d moved to the next person on her list and called Kim, really hoping that they were really just working late and she wasn’t waking her up. “Hey, Hails, everything okay?” Like Will, Kim picked up the call in a few rings. It was almost as if everyone who knew Hailey was on call to answer her calls except for her husband. 

“Hey, sorry I’m calling so late. Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, no, actually Kev just came back from a coffee run so I was taking a break.” Kim answered, followed by a yawn. 

“Case wearing you down?”

“It’s a bad one. We found two of our suspects, who of course didn’t go down without a fight. One of them took a bullet to the knee so we are waiting for Med to release him into our custody when he’s done and the other’s downstairs.” Another yawn. “But looks like it’s gonna be a rough night. Well, I guess morning.”

“Everyone okay?” Hailey asked after hearing that their suspect had put up a fight. If he had gotten shot, it meant that he had started the shooting, and her heart started racing thinking all the worst case scenarios. Surely she would have been notified if something serious had happened to Jay, but with the way he had been so distant lately, maybe that had been it: he had gotten injured and was avoiding her calls. 

“Everyone’s good, came out without a scratch.” Hailey released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Hey, is everything okay with you?” Kim asked upon hearing Hailey’s loud exhale of breath. “Oh my god are you in labor?”

“No, everything’s good here. No baby just yet.” She answered quickly, getting that out of the way. “I was calling to see if Jay’s around. I’ve tried calling him a few times but his phone kept going to voicemail, but I guess you guys are busy so I’ll let you go.”

“Ummm, Hails, Jay left a while ago.”

“Oh?” Kim’s answer took Hailey by surprise, an unpleasant one. She lost her train of thoughts and stuttered as she tried finding the words to ask her next question. “Did he- umm, did he say where he was going?”

“No, sorry. We all figured he was gonna go home and get some sleep. It’s been a rough day for him.”

“What happened? Is he okay?” It felt weird to not know that Jay’d had a rough day. It felt weird being the one to ask what was happening with him. 

“One of the suspects we caught turned out to be ex-military. Someone Jay knew back in the day.” Kim told her. “I think Jay was hoping the lead would turn out to be bogus since his name came up a few days ago but…” The rest was obvious. Finding out an old buddy involved in such a disgusting case must have taken a toll on him, and understandably so. What Hailey couldn’t figure out was why he hadn’t talked to her about it, and the question hurt her more than she thought it would. “Jay must have gone on a drive or something. I’m sure he’s on his way home though.” 

“Yea, yea, you’re right. I’ve probably just been losing my mind from having to stay home.” She tried laughing it off again, just like she had done it with Will, but this new found

“Oh, tell me about it! A few days is enough to drive you insane.” Kim commented, as bittersweet it was, remembering having to stay back during her short lived pregnancy so many years ago. 

“Oh yea.” Hailey tried acting her usual chipper self but the fake smile plastered on her face failed to reach her voice. “Anyway, I should let you enjoy your break.”

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yea, yea, everything’s fine. I’m getting pretty tired anyway and you guys are busy.” She added a fake yawn to her sentence which made Kim yawn as well. “Thanks for the conversation.”

“You want one of us to drop by? I know Kevin’s about to head home for a quick nap and-”

“No, that’s fine.” Hailey cut her friend off before she could finish the sentence. “It’s pretty late.”

“Alright, well Adam, V and I are gonna be staying here tonight if you need anything. Just give us a call, alright?”

“Thanks, Kim. I really appreciate it. Enjoy your break and good luck!”

“Good night, Hails.” The line went dead, leaving Hailey to her thoughts, wondering where her husband was, worst case scenarios running through her head. The last time he had gone awol, he’d gotten kidnapped, shot and almost died. She couldn’t go through that again. Not now. Not when they were about to have it all. With tears in her eyes, Hailey swore he would never forgive Jay if he left them alone.

About another hour or so later, the clock almost hitting three in the morning, Hailey was just about ready to give up, go to bed. She was exhausted, achy, and really, all she wanted was to know that Jay was safe. They could deal with this, whatever it was, in the morning. Hell she didn't even care if it meant that he’d continue avoiding her, and she’d have to wobble to the precinct in her pajamas. That being said, she knew sleep was her enemy tonight and the moment she would decide to go to bed, the oh so tempting sleep that had been trying to pull her into dreamland would disappear the moment her head’d hit the pillow. Not that sleep was really an option with their daughter kicking up a storm in her belly either.

“It’s okay, munchkin.” Hailey rubbed the spot she kept feeling the kicks. “It’s all gonna be okay.” Realizing she had no tea left, she threw her blankets off and stood up to stretch. If she was going to stay up, she needed to keep herself otherwise occupied. “Let’s get mommy some tea and you some of those cookies you crave so much.”

Hailey was about to head to the kitchen to get herself another cup of tea and get a snack when the sound of the door opening startled her. Her head instinctively turned towards the source of the noise, and watched frozen as Jay’s silent silhouette moved in the foyer. She held her breath as her eyes followed his every move: The way he snuck into his own house, the way he took his jacket and shoes off as quietly as possible, thinking Hailey was already asleep, the way he tiptoed further into the dark house.  Watching his arm reach for living room light switch, Hailey prepared herself to face their current situation, and when the lights turned on, bringing the couple face to face, a loud silence surrounded them. “Hails? Why are you awake? Everything okay? Is it the baby?” Jay listed his questions, alarmed. 

“Yea, yea we are fine but I guess I should be the one asking you that.” Hailey shot back, needing him to know that what happened today was NOT okay. “What’s going on, Jay?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’m fine.” He gave her his staple bullshit of an answer as he walked further in and towards her in the living room. “Just a long day at work.”

“Well, I know for a fact you’re not “fine”, so wanna try again?” Hailey crossed her arms over her chest, her words stopping him on his tracks to walk over to greet her.

“I-” He started but seemed to be at a loss of words. 

“Jay, I’m worried about you.” She cut him off at the realization that he needed a push before he’d really open up. “You haven’t picked up your phone or answered any of my texts and I had to find out from Kim that you had a rough day. What’s going on?”

“Hails, I’m just really tired and just want to go to sleep.” He was hiding behind an excuse, but at least it was an honest one, and Hailey considered that a good start.

“Alright, if that’s what you want, we can go to bed. I’m glad you’re safely home.” She told him with a flat yet soft tone. She didn’t want to discourage him from opening up, but his actions had terrified and hurt her, and she couldn’t just pretend that it was all fine now that he was home. “But we are gonna talk about this, Jay.” She added, letting him know he wasn’t off the hook. “What happened today, the radio silence… The last time that happened, I almost lost you and the thought of losing you, especially while I can’t even be out there,” The memory of what Angela Nelson put them through hitting her straight in the pregnancy hormones and feelings, she could feel tears welling in her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry. She refused to. “It, it terrified me,” She looked down her body in an attempt to avoid his eyes and blink away the tears as she protectively put both her hands on her bulging belly. “It terrified us.” She sighed. “We, we have to talk about it.”

“I can’t do anything right, can I?” Jay muttered more to himself than Hailey, disappointed in himself. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he shouldn’t have pushed Hailey away, but this case, these past few days, then what happened in the morning… It had brought up so many painful memories, so much rage, so much fear that he simply hadn’t known where to start. “You must hate me for what I put you through today, huh?”

“I don’t hate you, Jay. I will never hate you.” Hailey’s voice softened. “But I hate that after all this, you’re still trying to lie to me.”

“Hails…”

“Yes, Jay?”

“This case has been terrifying.” He started to confess. “When we found that pregnant girl, the way her body was left behind, all I could think of was you and what I would do if I found you like that.” He was finally opening up. “Then we found out that one of the suspects is an old army buddy of mine and when we interviewed him today…” He shook his head, the memory of the interrogation room replaying in his mind and he collapsed on the couch in defeat. “He looked me in the eyes and said “You’d make pretty babies. Should consider changing careers.” with the smuggest smile, and Hailey, the things I wanted to do to him for bringing our kid into it… And then all my anger turned into this fear of failing you and Aislyn and, God, Hailey, it paralyzed me. I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Jay,” She got it. She really did, but the silence and distance had hurt. “Holding everything in doesn’t help you know.” She told him as she walked over to take a seat next to him and put a supportive hand on his back. “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening?”

“I know I should have.” He looked at her with tear sheathed eyes, his greens tired and broken. “I mean I know I could have come to you. I trust you more than I ever trust myself, but I didn’t want to worry you especially with how close you are to your due date. It felt like by burdening you with my worries, I’d be failing you two before we even became parents.”

“I understand, Jay, but not knowing what was going on with you and having to call our friends and family only to find out from Kim that you’ve been having a rough time with this case worried me so much. I felt like an outsider and not your wife and best friend.” She took a deep breath, giving Jay some time to process her words. “Your worries and fears and rage will never be a burden on me, Jay. We said for better or for worse when we said I do. Being pregnant doesn’t change that.”

“God, I love you and I’m so damn sorry.” Jay pulled Hailey into his body and apologized with a broken voice upon realizing how much he had hurt her. The last thing he wanted to do had been to hurt her, but he realized trying to not be a burden was more hurtful to their partnership than anything. “I promise I’ll do better.”

“I know you will.” Hailey snuggled into his embrace before turning in his arms to be able to look him in the eyes again. “I love you, Jay.” She cupped his cheek in her one hand, and grabbed and guided his hand to rest over her belly with her other. “We love you. Unconditionally. Just remember that the next time you feel overwhelmed and I’m not there.” Feeling their daughter’s kicks under their palms, Jay leaned down to press a kiss on her lips; a kiss meant to seal his promise, to show his love, to give them both hope that they were stronger for facing their challenges. 

Their last few days had really taken a toll on both of them, but with everything out in the open now, and promises of love and hope had been made, they knew they could tackle anything as long as they trusted in each other, even when they didn’t trust themselves. 

So when they finally got into bed, tightly holding one another close, their daughter’s soft movements between them, they finally got the relieved rest they had been needing that day.

- @puckluck28

[kim-ruzek]

Girl Code Duty

Summary: Fix-it for 3x20. Sylvie stops Kim making the bad decision to sleep with Roman.

Warnings: Sean Roman bashing.

Word Count: 3.4k

Read on AO3

Notes: This is the quickest I've wrote a fic in so long and I loved every second of it. This was basically just written as an excuse to Roman bash, and I like fixing things so that Kim never slept with him. I'm just sad I had to acknowledge that my girl Sylvie also had.

Also, a thank you to @justanoffalygirl because one) this fic idea was created when talking to them, and two) for letting me steal a line from their fic.

Sylvie sits at the counter at Molly’s by herself, quietly drinking her beer. It’s one of those nights at the bar, where it’s full—not full-full, that it was loud and overwhelming, but enough that you could sit alone in the crowd peacefully unnoticed—but not that much by fifty-one, or really with their friends from the twenty-first or Chicago med.

It had been a quiet few days. Her shift—which ended that morning—was an uneventful one, nothing too straining happening the whole shift. Those shifts can be hit and miss, for Sylvie. On one hand, they’re a breath of fresh air, a welcome break from the chaos that comes with her work, but in the other hand, they tire her in a whole different way to a chaotic shift.

Sylvie’s born to be a paramedic, and she truly thrives in the situations the profession demands of her, and the days where she does nothing but sit around itches her feet, tiring her with boredom.

And of course she’s still mentally exhausted by all the drama that went down with Chilli.

Sylvie had a rather uneventful day even after the shift. A day spent watching home renovation shows, which though entertaining, just made her even more itchy to do something. And all that did was make Sylvie realise she’s gotten herself into a really boring rut recently.

So in the evening, she found herself at Molly’s.

She had gone thinking at least she’ll get some excitement hanging with her co-workers and friends. Otis isn’t on shift today, but Gabby and Herrmann are and it’s always exciting around them. But the punters are keeping them rather occupied, and the rest of the bar is rather empty of friends.he had gone thinking at least she’ll get some excitement hanging with her co-workers and friends. Otis isn’t on shift today, but Gabby and Herrmann are and it’s always exciting around them. But the punters are keeping them rather occupied, and the rest of the bar is rather empty of friends.

It’s okay, though, she finds herself thinking, enjoying the beer and the peacefulness of just among the crowd. The perks of drinking at a bar, with none of the anxious worries of perverts or being in danger; not with this being a firefighter run bar.

“Herrmann! Another beer, please?” Sylvie’s attention is drawn to where Kim Burgess sits, at a table not too far away from the bar. Her voice is a few octaves louder than it normally is, and Sylvie wonders how many beers she’s had. Having gotten drunk with Kim before, Sylvie would think at least a few.

Kim had been Molly’s when she had came in herself, and Sylvie had not been surprised having heard from Gabby the events that pd and med was focused on today. No one could say they didn’t have a quiet day.

Sylvie briefly had considered going over, but Kim had been sitting with Sean Roman and Natalie Manning, the three looking as if they were processing the day’s events together. Knowing how important those decompressing moments are in their line of work, especially decompressing with those you were ‘in the trenches’ with, as it were, Sylvie had decided against it.

And up until now, Sylvie had forgotten all about them.

In the time between Sylvie getting here, and this moment, Natalie had left, just leaving Kim and Sean remaining, and there is a couple of empty beer bottles on the table.

Sylvie watches them for a few minutes. She’s aware that it’s rude to stare—her mother’s words to her when she was a young girl echoing in her mind—and that she should either look away or go over to them, but something, right at the back of her head, niggles at her, telling her to watch. And as a trained paramedic, Sylvie has learnt to listen to those feelings.

Kim is drunk, that Sylvie could see. Not so much that Herrmann should cut her off, but definitely slightly more than her usual preferred tipsy. Sean is also buzzed, which makes sense depending the case they had. They’re sitting very close to each other, very much in each other’s space, and they’re clearly having a good time as they’re laughing. Kim’s hand keeps touching Sean’s shoulder, a touch he’s very much returning at every given moment.

Yet again, this makes sense; Kim gets super affectionate the more drunk she gets.

But at the same time, Sylvie understands that isn’t Kim’s usual affectionate touch and it dawns on Sylvie why her friend senses have been activated. Sylvie isn’t watching her friend get drunk after a tough day: she’s watching her friend considering making a very stupid, drunken mistake.

Kim is considering sleeping with Sean.

Or, she should say, Kim’s considering letting Sean fuck her, quickly, because Sylvie’s own experience very much told her that there’s no way that man knows the woman is also meant to be satisfied. And what a glow down that would be for her, as from what Kim’s told her drunkenly before, Adam is very good in that area.

No, Sylvie thinks to herself. There’s no way her girl code can allow Kim to have such disappointing dick. It’s a bad decision for Kim to have her post-engagement rebound like this anyway, and even if that wasn’t enough for Sylvie to interfere, she couldn’t in good consciousness subject her friend to that.

Every time Sylvie looks at Sean and remembers that night, all she can think is how she wished someone was able to do that for her.

Sylvie jumps off her stool, walking towards Kim and Sean now stand. It looks like this is their last beer before they’re going to leave, and Sylvie’s glad she spotted them when she did.

“Hello, you two,” Sylvie greets them, inserting herself between the two of them. Cock-blocking her friends to stop them making bad decisions is something she’s rather good at—she’s not just an amazing paramedic who saves people on duty, medically.

A look of irritation passes across Sean’s face, but Kim’s far from annoyed at her sudden presence, evident by how she throws her arms around Sylvie the moment she gets there. Kim hugs her tight, her drunkenness making her squeeze maybe a little too hard.

“Sylvie! Hi.” Kim grins widely at her. “We saw a baby survive today. It was, Sylvie, it was incredible! And amazing! Medicine is truly incredible,”

Sylvie smiles at her friend’s excited amazement. Kim then gasps.

“But I don’t need to tell you that, do I? That’s basically what you do every day. Like a blonde, pretty superhero.” Kim squeezes her again.

“Oh, I don’t know if—” Sylvie begins to protest, but Kim cuts her off.

“Yes. You’re a superhero.” She nods with enthusiasm, certain in her belief. A smile appears on Sylvie’s lips again.

“Okay. I’m a superhero.” She concedes, before adding, “but if I am, you definitely are. You’re a kickass cop!”

“Hm. But you save lives. Like actual lives, people call you when they’re dying. I’m like the sidekick to your superhero. Like you’re the boss, the one people go to. I just help,” Kim rambles on. Sylvie’s got an urge to point out to that technically, paramedics generally turn up to assist cops, not the other way around, but she pushes it down, knowing drunkenness knows no reason or logic.

“Okay, then, sidekick. Let’s get you home,” Sylvie says, thinking that it’s not only best if she stops Kim from leaving with him, but ensuring that even after she leaves the bar that she doesn’t make the bad decision.

“Oh. Brett, actually, Kim and I, uh, we were getting a taxi together,” Sean speaks up then, reminding them of his presence. At the use of her last name, Sylvie almost rolls her eyes. It’s almost as if he was trying to pretend he hadn’t seen her naked, that they hadn’t also “got a taxi together”.

Sylvie must’ve drank more of her beer than she thought as she’s tempted to remind him of such—and how Sylvie had left alone in another taxi only fifty-two minutes later.

“Well, I’m here now,” Sylvie dismisses him, acting as if his meaning of getting a taxi together had gone over her head. She links her arm with Kim’s, keeping her attached to her side. Kim looks between the two of them, as if trying to decide which one to go with. (Like Sylvie would be giving her a choice).

“No, uh—” Sean continues to protest, but Sylvie sticks to doing her friend duty, interrupting him by talking over him.

“Come on, Kim. I’ve had a boring day today, I can use some girl time,” Sylvie tells her friend. At her words, Kim pouts sympathetically at her, and Sylvie knows she’s successfully diverted her friend’s attention away from Roman. Kim then looks at Sean, giving him an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Sean, she needs girl time.” Kim tells him and Sylvie would be lying if she didn’t get some satisfaction in how disappointed Sean looks.

Annoyance is also wrapped up in his expression, but Sylvie can see he’s trying to hide it, presumably so to ensure Kim wouldn’t dismiss whatever was going to happen from happening another day. Sylvie makes a mental note to make sure, when her friend is sober, that this was a one off, that Kim shouldn’t ever consider going there again.

With that settled, Sylvie lightly tugs at Kim, to get them moving towards the door. Sometimes, leading drunken friends can feel very much like herding farm animals, but Kim moves with little encouragement, barely taking the time to say (well, yell rather loudly) a goodbye to Sean before she heads to the exit with Sylvie.

“Can we go to yours instead?” Kim asks, yet again her voice louder than usual, as soon as they get into Sylvie’s car. “You know, for girl time? I really don’t want to be at mine,” she adds on.

“Sure, that’s fine,” Sylvie nods. She understands Kim’s unwillingness to go back to her apartment; just a few weeks ago, she was thinking it would soon not be her home, that she’d be building a life in another apartment with Adam.

After Kim asks her that, she stares out the window for a minute or so, a troubled and sombre expression on her face. All Sylvie does, all she knows Kim needs from her at that moment, is reach over and lightly squeeze her hand.

Then, whatever dark thoughts were swirling around in Kim’s mind passes, and Kim’s her animated drunken self, rambling on about the baby again for the rest of the journey to Sylvie’s apartment.

“So what do you want to do?” Kim asks her when they enter Sylvie’s place. Before Sylvie can answer, Kim gasps, spinning around to face her.

“We could put on some music? I’ve missed dancing. I love Molly’s and all, but it’s not always the best place to just let loose. Or do you want to watch a movie? Oh! Let’s watch one we can make a drinking game to play while watching. Or do you just want to drink and talk? Or a game? But what game would be fun just the two of us? Maybe we should call others. Gabby’s working isn’t she? But maybe—” Kim talks a million miles a minute, her mind jumping all over the place.

“Kim. Kim.” Sylvie grabs her attention, interrupting her friend. “How about we don’t drink, and you go to sleep?”

“But what about you? You wanted girl time.” Kim tilts her head, her drunken confusion amusing Sylvie. Sometimes Sylvie thinks there’s nothing funnier than being sober, or more sober at least, than your drunk friend.

“I’m fine. But you need to sleep. This has already been enough excitement to make up for my boring day,” Sylvie reassures her, expertly leading Kim to get bedroom while she talks.

“Oh. Okay.” Kim accepts. “But do I have to sleep? I’m not tired,”

“That’s because you’re drunk, Kim. You’re buzzed. But you’ll thank me tomorrow, so come on. Get off your shoes. You can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in if you want?” Sylvie offers as Kim sits down on her bed, doing as she said and taking off her shoes. Kim shakes her head.

“’s alright. I can just sleep in this.” She responds. Sylvie can see that she’s starting to loose her buzz, her eyes getting tired.

“You sure?” Sylvie double checks.

“Yeah. But I don’t feel right sleeping here. This is your bed, I’ll take the sofa,” At Kim’s words, Sylvie shakes her head.

“No, I want you to sleep here. It’ll help your hangover to get some good rest. And I’m not on shift tomorrow, so I can sleep the whole day if I want, so it’s fine.” Sylvie reassures her, holding up a hand as Kim goes to protest.

“Kim. I’m a paramedic, remember? You should listen to me.” That stops her, and so Sylvie nudges her, moving onto the next part—actually getting her in the bed. Because it has been a while since Kim’s last drink now, and her buzz is going, leaving a sleepy drunk Kim in it’s wake, that is a relatively easy task.

“You’re such a good friend,” Kim tells her, her voice sleepy, after Sylvie’s gotten her into her bed. Sylvie smiles at the brunette. “An amazing kickass, sweet wonderful friend,”

“You want to know something?” Sylvie asks softly as Kim snuggles down into the sheets, settling. “You’re an amazing kickass, sweet wonderful friend too,”

“No, I’m not.” Kim protests. Her voice is quiet, full of sleep still, but Sylvie can also hear the pain, the hurt, that’s in it. “I’m an idiot. Why did I think I’d get to be happy, that I’d get my happy ever after? And now I never will. Who’ll want to be with me, when they find out I’ve had a failed engagement? I never wanted this, I only ever wanted to be engaged once, and now. I’ll probably never be again.”

Sylvie sits on her bed, next to where Kim lies. Kim’s looking at her with such pain and hurt in her eyes, a pain and hurt that Sylvie has known herself, and she’s glad she intervened because this Kim, this drunken hurt Kim, is most definitely not ready for a rebound.

“Kim. That’s not true. You will find love again, I mean, you’re a catch! And who cares if you’ve had a failed engagement—so have I, remember? It doesn’t define you or stop you from getting dates. Yeah, it’s a little bit more than this, but it’s still essentially just another break-up.” Sylvie strokes some of Kim’s hair, in the way her mother did to her when she was a little girl.

“And you are many things, Kim Burgess, but an idiot is not one of them. You deserve happiness, and you will get it. I promise. And if anyone ever tells you otherwise, give me their names and I’ll kick their ass. And that includes you, yourself. You’re a wonderful person, and you should recognise that.” Sylvie reassures her friend, her voice firm, showing how serious she is.

Kim gives her a small smile, her eyes having become watery at Sylvie’s words. Sylvie can still see the pain in her, but she can also see that her words has had an affect on Kim, in a positive way. From her own experience, Sylvie knows Kim is far off from being totally okay, but she knows that a small part of her has been healed ever so slightly. And that is a win, for both of them.

It’s not long after that Kim falls asleep. Sylvie turns off her bedroom light, after putting a glass of water and paracetamol in her bedside table for when Kim wakes up in the morning.

Sylvie’s already awake, sitting at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee, pancakes and a newspaper when Kim sleepily stumbles out of her bedroom rubbing her eyes.

“Good Morning,” Sylvie smiles at her in greeting. Kim blinks at her for a few seconds before returning the smile.

“Morning,” Kim’s voice is still groggy from sleep. Sylvie pushes her plate towards her.

“Here. Eat.” Sylvie tells her. Kim opens her mouth, and sensing protestions, she holds up her hand. “You look like you could do with it, and I can always make more.”

Sylvie watches as Kim sits down at the table, obediently beginning to eat. She rises, heading for her fridge. “I’ve got some bacon you can eat with that, if you want? It’ll help you with your energy. Also, I can make you some coffee,”

At that, Kim’s head lifts up. “Coffee,”

Sylvie laughs at that reaction, and how Kim’s voice sounds so desperate and she realises offering the coffee should’ve been her first move.

“Please,” Kim then adds, as if realising that she could be coming off rude. She isn’t, of course. Sylvie recognises she’s just sleepy and hungover, but Kim is always so conscious of being polite. “Thank you. And could I have some of that bacon, please? It sounds like such a good option right now,”

Sylvie places the freshly made cup of coffee in front of Kim before working on the bacon. It’s silent in the apartment, as Sylvie cooks and Kim eats, and she finds herself thinking that if she hadn’t been at Molly’s, Kim would’ve been having a very different, awkward morning instead.

“Sylvie?” Kim says as she eats the bacon. Sylvie looks up from her newspaper. “Thanks. For what you said last night. I, I needed to hear that.” Kim smiles at her and Sylvie returns it.

“No problem. Really, Kim. I’ve been there, remember? And at least I didn’t have to see my ex-fiancé every day at work.” Sylvie affectionately squeezes Kim’s hand. “Anytime you need to talk, especially to someone who understands, I’m here. Even if you just want to get drunk and talk about anything else,” Kim smiles appreciatively at her words.

After Kim’s finished her coffee and food, she tells Sylvie that she’s going to go, needing to go back to hers and shower and get dressed before work. Sylvie offers to drive her, but Kim shakes her off, saying she’ll get a taxi. Sylvie wants to protest, insist, but she can tell that Kim isn’t just wanting a taxi because of not wanting to a burden, but because she needs the time alone, so Sylvie drops the matter.

“Thank you. Really.” Kim says to her as she goes to leave. She hugs Sylvie tightly, appreciatively, a hug Sylvie happily returns. “And not just for this, breakfast and letting me sleep here, or even not just for what you said but for the whole night. I, I was feeling very emotional and that combined with the alcohol... I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for making decisions,” Sylvie nods, getting exactly what Kim meant.

“It’s fine. My duty, really, as your friend.” Sylvie replies, continuing.

“I mean not just because I’ve been there, and because you were drunk, but because honestly? As your friend, it’s my duty to save you from disappointing dick,” Sylvie pulls a face, remembering her encounter with Roman.

A laugh splutters out of Kim, and she leans forward towards Sylvie. “Really? He’s no good? I mean...I get that vibe, but really?”

“Kim. I was out of his apartment fifty-two minutes later. He’s not just disappointing, he’s quick and awful. Very in-out, selfish kind of man.” Sylvie grimaces as she remembers. Kim laughs again, and Sylvie’s happy at least something good came out of that night.

“Oh god. Really, then. Thank you. I mean, I get the vibe, but you seriously left that soon after?” Kim shakes her head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,”

“Trust me, so am I. So, please, Kim, never ever consider that again, no matter how drunk. It will not be worth it.” Sylvie shivers at the memory. Kim pulls her in for another hug.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I don’t even know why I even considered it. Maybe because I know how much Adam hates him, so I was kind of being a bit destructive? I don’t know. But whatever the reason, it has passed. If I’m going to make a bad decision, I better be getting satisfaction from it,” she reassures her. Sylvie grins.

“Good. My job here is done, then.” Sylvie pauses. “And Kim, for what it’s worth? If I was you, I’d probably spend some time thinking about that reason why—maybe your relationship with Adam isn’t as failed as you think. But I know I don’t know the ins and outs, so maybe don’t give my opinion much thought. Now, you should get a move on! You’ve got work.”

Kim gives Sylvie a thoughtful look, before nodding. “Yeah, I should go. Bye, and uh, thanks again,” she says, before heading out of the door.

[backseatsiren]

A Dramatic Day

It’s been awhile since I’ve written here! There are a couple of reasons: first, my life has reached brave new heights of busy - I was promoted to Editor in Chief at work a bit over a year ago, and my responsibilities there obviously take a lot of time. I’m also teaching more courses than usual at Berklee (right now, one section of Film and TV and two of Game Design Principles), and, as usual, I’m training grappling on top of it all. Plus, naturally, the ambulance. I’m hitting my tour hours, and proud to do it, and as pumped as ever to be an EMT in this neighborhood.

I’m also... very, very, VERY slowly *actually writing a book* about all of this. I’ve begun interviewing a few fellow EMTs, mainly volunteers, about what it is we do. Because of how insane my schedule is, it’ll be a very long term project, and I can’t put any pressure to finish soon. But, especially through the pandemic, I’ve felt a desire to document and interview and report on the idea of volunteer emergency medical services in New York City, here in Brooklyn and Queens, and I think other folks might be interested in reading a bit about it.

But I’d like to get back into the practice of writing about calls and concepts and experiences. As always, I’ll respect patients and patient privacy, and will never reveal identifying information or anything inappropriate.

Today was a fairly busy day, but it started with a bit of a dramatic call. We were called to an unknown, and flagged down by a bystander. A man called us over and told us that he saw a man lying on the train tracks (a less-used track, not the subway or commuter rail or anything). He said he regularly feeds a colony of feral cats there, and noticed the gentleman lying down the way.

We thanked him and high tailed it over, yelling out to him (the usual “sir are you ok?”). My more experienced (many, many years in EMS, including at a much higher level of certification) partner took a look at him and said “he might be dead” and began looking forward a pulse. He went for more help (another ambulance was arriving and they needed to be directed over, the physical layout of the space was weird), and he instructed me to look for a pulse. I did, and found nothing. My other partner (a newer EMT, just cleared for CC status, who I also love working with), said “he’s cold to the touch.”

It was raining lightly. The tracks were a little slick, and there was some litter. It’s early may, and the grass had that beautiful sheen on it, that it gets in the rain. Weird things, visual and sense memory things, are coming back as I write about it.

He was lying down on his face on the tracks. I checked for a carotid pulse again and felt nothing. I checked his hands - they were closed and held tight. Rigor Mortis. I checked his arms, his coat, his clothing, careful not to mess with anything, but looking for lividity. He was bleeding from his face, and, on inspection, his face was very clearly badly injured, bruised, and bloated. I was wearing an N95, but even so, you could smell that he was deceased.

I told my more experienced partner that when he arrived with the other crew. We inspected the scene - noting a shovel and some other tools. There was a little encampment nearby - possibly where this man lived. Beer and food in a little shelter.

It certainly looked like foul play was possible. I learned a few minutes later (on my next call) that the cops did start an investigation there.

As one of the other EMTs from the other crew noted, it was “like a movie scene.” Something about the rain and the light, the way the blood pooled, the way the ants crawled around in it... was surreal. It may have been my less experienced partner’s first DOA when they were first on the scene (it wasn’t mine, but it was certainly the first *outdoor* DOA where I’ve been first and had to help establish that). It was my first suspected murder scene.

And yes, it was deeply sad. There’s some initial adrenaline, for me, in every call. There would be more on my other calls today. There is a voice in my head that repeats a lot of the basic instructions and goes through scenarios: “ABCs” (a note to always prioritize airway, breathing, and circulation). I think about what happened in any given situation and what I should do for my patient. I look for threats to everyone’s safety. And when I can breathe and get a clearer picture of what’s going on, that’s when I can start to process things a bit.

We covered him with a clean sheet from the ambulance and did all the things we needed to do. We talked about it a little, after the call. But I always need to think about things for a few hours after, which is what I’m doing here, by writing about it a bit.

I’m a deeply, empathetic person. I feel for my patients. The call I’m about to talk about - the very next call - required that of me in a different way. But in this scenario, I want to first do everything right for the person and situation, and next, be as respectful as humanly possible. This poor man died - was very probably killed - and was left outside in the rain. I don’t know much about his life, and very little about his death. The whole scenario is very sad, and very surreal.

Every time I’ve had a dead patient, it’s stuck with me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget my first, a woman who very probably died of a heart attack or in her sleep, and her son found her. He was mourning. He was on top of the body, hugging her, crying “I’m sorry, mommy,” and there’s... I guess there’s nothing on earth like that. Nothing like that kind of pain. People, as a rule, do not expect to see their loved ones deceased, and when we do, we usually have a ceremony for it.

I’m just a bystander to that. I can do nothing to help the deceased person, and very little for a mourning loved one, besides being a respectful, empathetic human presence. For my deceased patient today, all we could do was establish that he was dead and do the proper things to ensure his remains would be taken care of (and his death investigated).

My next call was very different, but it was heavy in a different way. We got a call for, basically, a suicidal young woman. We arrived, with PD, to her door. The officers assessed things to an extent, but she revealed that she had been traumatized by police in the recent past, and didn’t want any police in her home. I talked with her calmly, and was able to relieve the cops and take this one, with my partner.

We listened to her. She had obviously been through some extreme trauma and needed mental health resources. I won’t reveal any details here, but I had to keep assuring her that I had no handcuffs and wasn’t interested in taking her against her will. She was terrified of being taken somewhere she didn’t want to go, and I basically sat calmly with her and talked to her about her options. Just talking. Just listening.

This is a case, like a patient a couple of years ago, where I’m very happy to take my time. I’m a volunteer, man. I’m not grinding through a shift for miserable pay, as most EMTs are - I’m here because I frankly want to be useful in this manner.

And I’m happy to sit with a person going through emotional hell, because this is what I can help with. I’m five years into being an EMT with RVAC. I do this 2-3 shifts per month, so I’ll never be the fastest, best, EMT in NYC. But I can be the most patient EMT, and I can give plenty of extra time to a person.

I’m not a therapist, and I don’t pretend to be. That’s what I told her - first, that I’m not a cop, I don’t have cuffs, I have no interest in taking her if she’s of sound mind and doesn’t want to go. Then, second, that I’m no doctor, and no therapist, and that I want her to have resources if she needs them.

We talked more, and did more vitals, and she decided she wanted to come to a mental health facility. We explained every step of the process to her, and what she could expect, and what to bring.

Do I wish I was an actual therapist who could help this girl right away? Yeah. Do I wish I had the ability to make mental health policy that provides good, effective, supportive therapy to all human beings who need it? Yeah. Do I wish I could do better for her than an ER with psych specialists? Where she could easily get lost in the cracks or simply never connect with what she truly needs? Yeah.

I can only take her to a place where people are at least trained to assess her and offer her further resources. I can only hope they actually can help, and do so.

I had another call where we did a bit of *psychological first aid* not long after that. A dramatic scene! A young woman fainted at work at a store, and several people were surrounding her and holding her at the scene! Folks were holding her hands and crying.

It looked wild at first glance, but our patient was completely ok - we got her out, had medics assess her completely, and brought her to the ER while assuring her parents that things looked ok. Her mother was extremely upset, and we had a bit of a language barrier, but we were able to assure her and let her know things looked ok, that her child had very promising vitals and EKG readings, and we just needed the ER visit to make sure.

The medics helping us out were INCREDIBLE. They offered a full walkthrough for us of what was going on physiologically with her and gave a very helpful tip on scenes like that - give bystanders little jobs (just simple stuff, like holding the door, or looking for something like a towel) to do! It helps (caring, kind, just want to help) folks feel helpful when they get scared, especially in dramatic-looking situations.

A lot of drama today. A lot of learning. I felt really good about taking charge with my psych patient and helping her to feel safe and able to make her own decision. Im glad we were able to help our young fainting patient. And as much as it’s heavy, I’m glad I was at least on scene today for our first call. I know I can do nothing but confirm obvious death, but, I take some heart in the kind bystander who called for him (the gentleman who feeds cats nearby).

At least someone cared enough to try.

I’m forever grateful for my partners, for the folks who have taken the time to teach me (back when I was VERY green and still, to this day, as I am learning every single shift), and for the patients who trust me to do my best for them. 

I noticed today, this month marks five years of doing this, with my volunteer corps. I can only hope I learn more and become a more effective EMT as I go.

[babi-correia]

The Hunt

Words: 3527 Pairing: Sean Roman x Reader Warnings: Some violence and violent situations

From Anon: Hi there, I was wondering if you could write for Sean Roman from Chicago PD. I love him and I think he's hot but can't find anything written for him. Something along the lines of the reader being a detective in Intelligence and Roman a patrol officer and the reader being very flirty with him, sitting on his lap, giving him hugs, touching his arm everytime she walks past him in the precinct, etc and he just loves the attention from her. Thank you x

I altered it a bit but here you go!

When Hank Voight contacted you about joining Intelligence, you never thought it would be this interesting; especially when Atwater moved up, and a new officer took his place as Burgess's partner. 

You set your sights on him the first day he sets foot in the precinct: you're chatting with Trudy, catching up about whatever gossip currently runs downstairs.

"You know, deep down I'm proud of Atwater," She whispers to you, refusing to let anyone know she isn't the ice queen she so expertly pretends to be. "But I'm also sad for Burgess. She's a good officer, but she has a heart of gold; as much as she wants to make it to Intelligence, it would break her."

"Atwater moved up, does she have a new partner yet?" You ask, genuinely curious as she strolls in. You raise your hand to her. "Hi, Burgess! I might need your help later."

"You got it, Detective." She says, walking backward into the locker room.

"New guy is supposed to come in today." Platt mutters as soon as Burgess leaves her line of sight, looking at the door. "He's late already."

As if on cue, a blond man rushes into the precinct. 

"I-I'm sorry I'm late Seargent, I'm just going to change quickly." He says, scrambling to the locker rooms. 

You and Platt exchange a look, a smirk plastered on your face. She chuckles, knowing you set your marks on the new officer.

"Already?" She whispers, her eyes glinting mischievously. 

"What can I say, I'm effective like that. Call me down when they decide it's time for their shift to start." You say, turning around and going up the stairs. 

You sit at your desk, smirk still plastered on your face. Erin notices your expression and comes over, curiousness plastered on her face. 

"Detective (Y/N) (Y/L/N), what are you plotting?" She asks as she sits on the corner of your desk, the sassy tone on her raspy voice making your smirk widen further.

"Oh, my dear Detective Erin Lindsay, we seem to have acquired a fine piece of eye candy, and I'm planning on having my fair share of fun with him." You respond, making her laugh.

"What's the lucky bastard's name?"

"Well, I don't know that yet, but I'm about to." As if on cue, your desk phone rings. "Well, I'm off on a hunt, my dearest friend."

You grab your jacket from the chair and mockingly salute Erin as you trot down the stairs, the small heel of your shoes clicking against the marble. Looking down on yourself, you consider that you may have overdressed today: a blue sleeveless blouse, black pegged pants, and simple, small heeled pumps. 

You snap out of your self-judgment as you hear bickering at the front desk. You see Trudy, her arms crossed as she judgingly stares at the two officers on the other side of the desk, not amused by their banter in the slightest. Her gaze averts to you, some hope glinting in her eyes, expecting you to break up whatever that could be before she had to slam their faces on the counter.

"Hey!" You call out, earning a thankful look from Trudy and confused looks from the two officers and just about anyone in the lobby. "Burgess and Boytoy, grab the keys to a squad car and quit whatever it is you were bickering about." 

They nod as Trudy hands them a set of keys, her unamused expression never leaving her face as she beckons the two officers closer.

"If you ever set up another circus like that in my lobby, I'll have you passing parking tickets until I forget about it." She threatens, making you chuckle. "And not even my favorite detective over there will be able to save your asses."

You trudge the space between you and the two officers, leaning against the counter as you size the new guy up. Satisfied with what you're looking at, you reach out your hand towards him.

"You sure look like the kind of trouble I'd like to be in." You say, noticing how the man's ears turn slightly red and how both Burgess and Trudy try to smother their laugh at his perplexed expression as he gingerly reaches his hand out, giving it a firm shake. "I'm Detective (Y/N) (Y/L/N), upstairs with the bad guys in Intelligence."

"Sean Roman, patrol officer." He manages, making you smirk.

"I believe the blue uniform gave it away, darling." You say, turning to Burgess. "Is he being a pain in your ass already?" 

"Nothing I can't handle." She mutters proudly, making you turn back to him with a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on your face. You can see Trudy looking as she pretends to do something else.

"You see, Sean, I can call you Sean right?" You ask rhetorically, continuing your speech before he even has an opportunity to reply. "Sean, I happen to like Burgess very, very much, and I'm not the only one around this precinct to feel like that. If you keep that attitude up, I might have to become the pain in your ass, and not in a pleasurable way. Capisce?"

You turn on your heels, not waiting for a reply as you walk towards the door with Burgess hot on your trail.

"Take the cruiser and meet me at Buckingham Fountain, I'm meeting a CI there." You say to Burgess, patting her shoulder. 

You get in your car and make the short drive there, parking your car and getting out, checking your gun as you wait for the two officers to turn off their car as they park next to yours. 

"This looks too exposed for a meet-up with a CI." Sean says, exiting the car. You raise your finger and put it to your lips. 

"Don't say anything, you're cute, you're gonna mess it up." You say, shushing him. Burgess laughs and you turn around. "I'm going to sit on that bench over there, wander around but stay close."

They nod and start walking around as you go and sit on a bench, waiting for your CI to grace you with his presence. 

A few minutes later he sits by your side, rubbing his hands up and down his pants. 

"You better have something I'll benefit from, Fred." You say, not even making eye-contact with him. "So far, every intel you've given me has been complete and utter rubbish. You have this chance to redeem yourself, or I'm cutting you loose." 

"What!?" He raises his voice a little too much and you glare at him, making him quiet down. "You can't do that to me!" 

"I can, and I will, unless you give me something good." You say, crossing your legs. "I wouldn't keep me waiting too long."

"There's something weird going on at some storage warehouse down at West Ohio Street." Fred mumbles. "I think I heard something about a gun shipment." 

"You think or you did?" You snap, glaring at him. "Your payment and safety depends on your answer to that question." 

You can see the two officers from the corner of your eye, each with a coffee cup and a donut on hand, seemingly on a break but paying close attention to what you're doing. 

"Take me in." Your CI mumbles. 

"Excuse me?" You do a double-take, raising a brow at the man in front of you.

"Arrest me. Then you can go and raid the warehouse, but arrest me first. I'll be safer in lock-up." 

You just stare at him for a while, unable to believe what you just heard. 

"Fred, you became my CI to avoid jail, and now you're asking me to arrest you? After all the trouble I went through to keep you out?"

"It's bad enough for me to want to be arrested, if that gives you any indication of how they can fuck me up for speaking." 

"How big of an operation are we talking here?" You ask, resting your elbows on your knees and your face on your hands. 

You see a suspicious-looking man in a hoodie coming in your direction from the other side of the park and your hand darts for your gun as you see the man reach into his pocket. He brings out a gun and point it in your general direction, making you get up and point your gun at him, hearing the screams of the passerby's as they realize what's happening. 

"Chicago PD, drop your gun or I will drop you." You snarl, inching closer to the man. You see him tremble, his gun aimed at your CI. "Odds are I shoot you before you get to shoot him." 

You stand your ground, gun expertly aimed at the unknown man, until you feel the cold end of a barrel against your head. 

"Drop your weapon!" You hear Burgess call out, both her and Sean with their guns trained on whoever's behind you. "Drop your weapon!"

You can hear the frantic laugh behind you and you roll your eyes.

"Fred, put the goddamn gun down before I get angry." You say, your voice eerily cool. "I will shoot this unlucky bastard, and the two officers will shoot you before either of you get a chance at getting close to pulling those triggers."

The man in front of you turns the safety off and cocks his gun, prompting you to do the same as you stare him off. The second you see his finger start to move, you throw yourself into the floor and roll away, shooting a couple of rounds into the hooded man as he mistakingly shoots Fred before getting hit. Both men crumble into the floor and you move quickly, kicking their guns away. You know the man you shot was dead before he hit the ground, but you check for a pulse anyway, feeling nothing. 

"He's still alive, (Y/L/N)." Burgess calls to you, making you turn around. "Are you ok? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine, just wasn't expecting a double-crossing like that." You sigh, looking down at Fred. "Dumbass choices lead to dumbass consequences, Fred. You're going to jail for the rest of your miserable little life."

You swipe your hands through your face, trying to make sense of what happened as the paramedics rush to aid the men on the floor. A sudden hand on your shoulder makes you jolt, and you turn around to see Sean.

"Are you really ok?" He asks, his blue eyes attempting to assess your mind and soul. You throw him a disarming smile, a sultry expression making its' appearance on your face.

"I am, but I can think of a few ways I could be better." You say, throwing him a wink and catching him off guard. You turn around and saunter to your car, needing the comfort of your desk and a cup of shitty coffee.

--

"Is she always like that?" Sean inquiries Burgess as they both make it back to the precinct. 

"Who? Like what?" She asks, giving Trudy the car keys as she puts her radio back on the shelf. 

"The detective, with all the seduction shebang." He continues, mimicking her actions.

"Oh, (Y/L/N). It depends, I guess." Burgess shrugs before looking behind him, her eyebrows shooting up. "Oh wow." 

Sean turns around to find you in the middle of the lobby, doing a twirl with the help of none other than detective Jay Halstead. Your hair is loose and the red dress you're wearing clings to all the right places. Jay's tie matches your dress, he too sharply dressed in a black suit and black shirt, the only splash of color being his tie. 

"You two look just like two kids heading off to prom." Trudy remarks, noticing the two officers and giving you a subtle nudge in their direction. 

"We're two kids heading off to arrest a drug baron, it's not too different." You remark, flashing Trudy a dazzling smile. 

"Roman, you're drooling." Burgess warns in a whisper, elbowing his ribs. He quickly regains his composure, a pang of jealousy shooting through him and leaving him even more confused than he was. 

"What do you think, officers?" You ask, coming closer to them and twirling again, doing a little bow at the end. "Do I look like an up and coming black widow baroness?" 

"You look stunning, wow." Burgess gushes, giving you a huge smile and noticing how Sean seems distracted. "And I think Roman's silence is a statement itself, he's in too much of a daze to reply."

The mention of his name makes him snap back from whatever thoughts were running through his mind and you smile, leaning close to him. 

"Like what you see, pretty boy?" You whisper for only him to hear, your hand resting on his upper arm. "You don't have to be jealous of Jay... at least for now. You know what they say about guys with blue eyes, don't you Officer Roman?" He shakes his head, unable to form words. Your hand on his arm, your proximity, the smell of your perfume invading his nose, it's all leaving him in a pleasant hypnosis as he hears you whisper into his ear. "They say that you're knowledgable. Say, what would be your area of expertise?" 

You give him a hearty chuckle as he freezes and his ears turn red, moving away and snaking your arm around Jay's as you move to the exit, the car waiting out front. 

He just watches you leave, too stunned to say or do anything until Burgess snaps her fingers in front of his face. 

"Sorry, yeah, no, I need a cold shower." He rushed, walking past her briskly and into the locker rooms. Burgess and Trudy trade a look, Burgess coming up to the desk. 

"Twenty in her having him wrapped around her finger in a couple of weeks." The officer says, laying a crumpled twenty on the counter. 

"Fifty in her having him on her bed by the end of the week." Trudy counters, smirk on her face as she puts a fifty over Burgess's twenty.

--

"What do you have there, Burgess?" Trudy calls out, seeing the officer slithering towards the Intelligence door stop dead in her tracks. 

"Coffee for detective (Y/L/N). We happened to go by a coffee shop she loves and I got her a cup." Burgess explains. "Can you open the door, please?"

Trudy smirks, the smugness in her face partially concerning Burgess. 

"I need you for something here, Burgess." The Sargent says, beckoning her to come closer as Sean walks through the door. "Officer Roman there will take the coffee to (Y/N)."

Burgess's eyes go wide as she rushes to the counter, setting the coffee on top of it.

"You can't intervene, Sarge!" She hisses, watching as Trudy laughs.

"Watch me." Trudy whispers to her. "Roman, the coffee is getting cold."

The two of them watch as the man takes the coffee and makes his way towards the stairs, the smirk never leaving Trudy's face. 

You're leaning against your desk, your gaze fixed on the whiteboard with your current case as you fiddle with a pen, barely registering the footsteps coming up the stairs. 

"Uhm, Detective (Y/L/N)?" You hear the familiar voice call out, prompting you to turn around. Lo and behold, there stands Sean, with a coffee cup in hand. Your eyes go wide as you inspect the cup further.

"Is that coffee from that shop by the river?" You ask, eager for a good caffeine fix other than the crappy coffee from the break room. He nods, handing you the cup, which you take eagerly before bouncing around. "I got decent caffeine, at last!"

You notice the blond man still looking at you, and you raise him a brow. 

"Can I help you with anything, Officer Roman?" You ask, leaning back against your desk and brushing your shoulder on his. "Are you checking me out again? Not that I mind, of course."

You smirk as you notice the pink tinge coming up his ears and neck as he sputters for an answer. 

"No, I was going already, have a great day." He stumbles over his words as he backpedals out of the bullpen, leaving you and Erin to trade a look before laughing. 

"I hear there's a bet going on downstairs." Ruzek teases, making you raise a brow. "Particularly on how long it will take you to break him with all that teasing and flirting, (Y/N)."

"Can't a girl have fun?" You ask, taking another sip from your coffee. "But it won't take long. He always gets flustered, and he doesn't seem to get used to it. Must have a lot of pent up sexual frustration."

You wiggle your brows at the last part, making Ruzek choke on his coffee and Erin burst out laughing. 

"You do you (Y/N), I'll support you." Ruzek says, raising his hands in defeat. You grin at him, straightening your shoulders as you see Voight rush inside, followed by Jay and Atwater. 

"We got a lead on the gang war." He barks out. "Someone called in about a bunch of men going towards an empty field, looking suspicious. Officers are meeting us on the scene."

You grab your jacket, thanking your past self for deciding on comfortable sneakers today as you rush downstairs and into your car, Atwater hopping into the passenger's seat. 

Arriving near the field, you park your car behind a tree and exit, locking it as soon as Atwater also gets out. You unlock and open the trunk, pulling your vest out and putting it on as you hear tires skid to a halt behind you. You secure the last strap and grab your assault rifle, hooking the strap around your shoulders before you turn around, finding Burgess and Roman exiting their patrol car. 

"Are you stalking me, Sean?" You say, leaning against your car with one hand propped on the rifle. "You can stop playing hard to get with all the silence you give me, I can be better at it if I want; luckily for you tho, I don't." 

You pat his arm as you pass by him, shooting him a wink as you go towards Voight, deciding what your angle would be. 

All of you move stealthily, heading towards the barn on the other side of the empty field, getting ready to breach as you get closer and closer. 

You take lead on one door, keeping Atwater, Burgess, Sean, and Jay with you, as Voight, Antonio, Al, Erin, and Ruzek head to the other door. 

"Ready?" You whisper into your radio, ready to kick the door down. Once you get confirmation from the other group you charge, the door slamming open. "CHICAGO PD!" 

You take cover behind a beam as the men inside start shooting at you, watching as the rest of your group stalks in before they take cover behind stalls and abandoned boxes. 

You pull the two officers into your place, shooting a few rounds into the men as you move forward, taking a round to the vest that takes the air out of your lungs. You feel a hand on the back of your vest pulling you backward and you stumble, falling on your ass. 

"Hey, you ok?" Jay asks, feeling around the vest for any signs of blood as Atwater, Burgess, Sean, and the other group work on subduing the criminals. 

"I'm fine, it hit the vest and winded me, but I'm fine." You use Jay as leverage to get back up, watching as the remaining criminals are hauled off in cuffs. You take off the vest, raising your shirt to see a red spot on your ribs. 

"That doesn’t look good." You hear Sean's voice beside you, making you raise a hand to your chest.

"Ouch, and here I was thinking you were being wowed by my wonderful flirting tactics and actually starting to feel attracted to me." You say, making a hurt face and watching as he scrambles for an adequate reply. "I'm joking, Sean, chill. You're a total blond fluff ball."

"Well..." He says, his arm brushing against yours. "You do know you don't have to get shot at just to get my attention, right?"

You laugh, doubling over as the action sends a spark of pain through your whole abdomen. You feel his arm around your waist, holding you up as your knees threaten to give out. 

"Anything goes to have your hands on me, huh?" You rasp, straightening yourself up slightly, looking at him through your lashes. 

"I'm beginning to think that you are trying to get me in your bed." He says, raising his brows at you.

"At last, he caught up." You declare dramatically, feeling his arm around your waist pull you flush against him, your noses almost touching. "Well, hello there."

His cologne pleasantly fills your nose, partially distracting you from the pain on your ribs, and the two of you lock eyes for a moment before you lean up and close the space between you with a kiss. 

“Platt won the bet.” You hear Burgess mutter. “There go my 20 dollars.”

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 4

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Some fluff, angst 

WC: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

By the time another week and a half passed, I started to get the hang of balancing everything without over-exhausting myself so much – although of course, it still wasn’t easy. If Bang PD-nim will let me stay after my contract is up, I am definitely not going to stay full-time as a student, but I’m just glad I won’t feel like I’m suffering as much from now on.

Sejin oppa has been spending his time with me to show me everything a manager is supposed to do. I’ve learned that the managers work directly with the celebrities and in particular, anything to do with their schedule. From setting up the schedule, to taking them to the different schedules and back, to making sure everything runs smoothly at each place. There were other things as well of course, but that’s one of the biggest parts of the job.

So that’s mostly what we’ve been doing – he’s been showing me all the duties of a manager and teaching me how he does it. Since they haven’t debuted there’s not a lot of things for us to technically do quite yet, but there are still small things the boys can do, like being a backup dancer for someone else’s music video, prior to debut. When they get closer to being ready for their debut, we will have to start working really hard to get their official debut scheduled. He’s already warned me that it won’t be easy to convince a station to debut a group from a company who hasn’t had any big celebrities yet.

It was a Saturday and there were no classes, so when I woke up early I went to the boys’ shared dorm to meet them there before heading to the company. Sejin oppa shared  the boys’ schedules with me now so I knew when they had anything to do. Whenever possible, I’ll be helping with getting them to their schedules. And I had a particularly difficult person to wake up today.

I knocked on the door. I had a spare key, but there was no way I would enter without at least making my presence known. I didn’t want to see any boys walking around in their underwear.

To my surprise, Jin answered the door quickly. “Good morning, (Y/n). What brings you here so early?”

I made eye contact with him and said, “Yoongi.” He understood right away and placed a hand on my shoulder to offer his sympathies.

“Well, I am making breakfast so once you manage to wake him up, you’re welcome to eat,” he suggested.

“If I make it out alive, I will definitely take you up on that offer,” I replied as I entered the dorm and placed my belongings in the living room. I turned towards Namjoon who was the only other one awake in the dorm. “Is it safe for me to enter?” I asked.

Namjoon flashed a smile. “They’re all presentable, no mental scars for you today noona.”

I took a deep breath as I slowly opened the door to the boys’ bedroom where five very sound asleep bodies lay in their beds. I looked for the 2 who needed to be at the company for lessons in an hour, contemplating if I should start with easy or hard mode. I decided to climb the ladder to the bunk of the boy curled up hugging a pillow.

“Taehyung, time to wake up,” I gently tried to shake him awake. When he didn’t respond, I tried pulling the pillow out of his grasp, but he just held onto it tighter. Was he actually awake, or does his sleeping body have that good of reflexes? “Taetae,” I called in a sing-song voice. “Seokjin is making you breakfast.”

His eyes opened just slightly at that. “Really?” he asked groggily.

I giggled at the adorable picture. “Yes, really. Now get up before you have to witness my massacre at the hands of Yoongi.”

He sat up and deciding I no longer had to worry about him, I made my way to the bunk where my biggest obstacle lay still. I breathed in a large gulp of air as I prepared myself for what was to come. “Yoongi,” I tried in the same sing-song voice I used with his younger brother. “Time to get up, Yoongi.”

I heard a grumble come from the otherwise lifeless rock. I tried nudging his shoulder but still nothing. “Come on, wake up Yoongi,” I tried again. He responded with weak swats of his hand to tell me to go away. I paused for a second while I thought of how to best wake him up.

I watched Taehyung climb down from his bed and an idea popped into my head. Before he could walk away, I stopped him and gestured to Yoongi’s bed followed by a hugging motion, hoping he’d understand what I was asking of him. He frowned back at me, not wanting to die today, but after I pleaded with my eyes he sighed and shuffled over to Yoongi’s bed. He laid next to his hyung, curling around him and wrapping him in his arms. I quickly snapped a picture with my phone while the older boy tried shoving him off. I gave Tae a thumbs up so he knew it was safe to run for his life.

“Yoongi, if you don’t wake up I’m going to show this picture of you and Tae snuggling to everyone in the company.”

At that, the reluctant sleeper sat up in bed, turning his head in my direction. I’m sure if his eyes were open, I’d see him glaring at me. “Noona, don’t you dare,” he grumbled.

“Then wake up, sleepyhead. Seokjin’s making you breakfast anyway.”

He slowly pushed his covers to the side as I pulled him out of his bed and pushed him out the door to make sure he didn’t go lay back down.

As we walked out, Namjoon looked up surprised. “You made it out in one piece, noona?”

I nodded, happy that my mission had been accomplished so easily.

Yoongi sat down at the table and held his hand out towards me. “Give me your phone, noona.”

“Nope!” I teased him. “I need to keep this for future blackmail.”

“Yah, don’t even think about it,” the grumpier boy retaliated.

Ignoring him, I sat down at the table across from Taehyung to wait while Jin finished making breakfast and placed a very delicious looking meal in front of me. The five of us had a quiet, peaceful breakfast together and Seokjin covered the leftovers for the rest to eat when they woke up.

I walked with Taehyung and Yoongi to the company while the older boy lectured his younger brother for our conspiracy this morning. Despite Yoongi’s seemingly angry demeanor, I swear I saw hints of a smile and a look of endearment flash on his features a few times. It was a rather cute scene.

When we got to the company, they went to their individual lessons – Taehyung to his vocal lesson and Yoongi to dance. I’d be getting some more training today, but Sejin oppa was busy until afternoon, so my only mission for the morning was accomplished. With nothing else to do, I decided to hang outside of the room where Tae was receiving his coaching and pulled out my schoolwork to pass the time.

I was quietly listening to music and after sitting there for a little while, I heard some other employees talking nearby. I was going to ignore them, if it wasn’t for the fact that I heard my name.

“What do you think about the boss hiring that (Y/n) girl?” a voice asked, enticing me to remove my ear buds.

“I don’t get what’s going on in his head sometimes. She’s so young, probably has no job experience, and she’s not even Korean. What did he see in her?” another responded.

“I have no idea. He’s trusting her to be able to debut a group. Sejin no doubt could do it, but I’m sure all that girl is doing is pulling him down and making it harder for him.”

“At least she’s a temp employee, she’ll be gone in a few months then he can get them back on track with their debut.”

“Yeah, I’d hate to see their potential and everyone’s work get wasted over a stupid spur-of-the-moment choice.”

“I can’t wai-“ the voice stopped abruptly and the conversation seemed to end.

I finally placed the earbud in my ear. I had heard small whispers and seen people giving me strange looks out of the corner of my eye here and there throughout the past couple of weeks so I had my suspicions that there were those in the company unhappy with me. But I had never heard anyone talk about me like that before. I knew they didn’t matter and it shouldn’t bother me, but I couldn’t help but find myself upset over the words.

I leaned my head against the wall behind me. As I looked up, I saw a very silent Seokjin staring at me.

“Oh, you’re here?” I conjured up a smile for my friend while putting my ear buds away, music no longer needed with him here.

He sat next to me. “You heard them, didn’t you?” I guessed him walking past them is what halted their conversation.

I placed my head on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.”

Seokjin wrapped his arm around me, gently caressing my side to comfort me. “We have faith in you, (Y/n). I hope you know that.”

I sighed. “I learned to not pay attention to what other people think of me a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t bother you, though.”

“The only opinions here that matter to me are you and the boys, Sejin oppa, and Bang PD-nim’s. Everyone else is insignificant to me.” I said the words more in an attempt to convince myself, and I’m sure Jin knew that because his grip on my side tightened as he lay his head on top of mine.

We sat in silence for a while until I felt the familiar vibration of my phone. I looked to see a message from Sejin oppa telling me he’s here and it’s time for me to go to his office. Jin let his hold on me go so I could meet with my mentor, and jokingly blew me a kiss as I walked away. I shot him a hand heart back and he grabbed his chest, pretending to faint at the gesture. I giggled, glad that I could always count on my friend to be there for me.

Since we had more time today than most other days today, Sejin oppa took advantage of that to test the knowledge he had given me up to this point. He ran a bunch of management scenarios past me, such as issues that could happen during various events, and I had to explain how I would handle them on the spot. I understood a lot of what was expected of a manager and I seemed to have a good grasp on how to do these things in theory, I just hoped that I’d be confident and stable enough to be able to do the same in practice too.

Eventually, hours had somehow passed and Sejin oppa had other things he had to do, so he let me go and I was free to do what I wanted. Not wanting to go back to my dorm just yet, I made my way to the boys’ usual dance studio. I knew it was about time for their group dance lesson, but I planned on hiding in the corner and to do some school assignments by myself. I just wanted to be somewhere I was much more comfortable.

I snuck my way into the room while they were attentively following their instructor’s lesson and found my way to the back corner where the couch was. I quietly pulled out my work and put in my headphones to help me focus.

I would periodically glance up at the boys’ hard work, admiring their skill. No matter how many times I saw them it still always amazed me. The amount of work and effort that the trainees put into improving their skills was so admirable, it made me almost feel motivated to work equally as hard at what I wanted to accomplish in my life too.

But what did I want to accomplish? When I chose my college major I was so sure of what I wanted to do, but ever since coming here I can’t help but find my schoolwork tedious and almost pointless now. I found myself wanting to focus on learning how to be the best manager I could be for the group of wonderful boys working hard in front of me.

I stopped working on my schoolwork as my mind flooded with thoughts. I felt like I really wanted to stay here, but could I? I wanted to help my new friends achieve their dreams but what if I wasn’t good enough and ended up messing it up for them? Suddenly the conversation I overheard earlier plagued my mind. As much as I wanted to be here and prove those people wrong, as much as I felt that I could do well if I just tried my best at this job, there was a part of me deep down that just made me feel so insecure about if I really could do it.

Someone quite literally snapped my mind back into reality. I looked up to see Jimin looking at me curiously.

I pulled my earbuds out of my ears. “Yes, Jimin?”

“Nothing. Our lesson is over,” the boy responded. “You seemed really lost in thought there, noona. Everything okay?”

I offered him a smile. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” I looked around the room and noticed that they were putting on jackets and gathering some belongings.

“We’re going to go get some dinner, want to come?” Jimin asked.

“Sure! And you know what? It’ll be my treat,” I said.

Hoseok seemed to be the only other one to hear my offer. “NOONA! You’ll buy us food? Oh my gosh, can we get samgyeopsal? Please? Please, please, please, please?”

His volume got the attention of the rest of the group, so they all started chiming in asking the same.

“Okay, okay. I can splurge on you guys, just this once,” I teased as I made my way out the door first. Everyone followed closely behind.

Eating dinner was about the same atmosphere as it usually was with these seven, full of chatting, laughing, and playful banter. I found myself laughing along with them as we ate.

I sat across the table from Seokjin. He placed about the twentieth piece of meat that night on my plate and I shot him a look.

“Seokjin, stop feeding me and just eat,” I lectured. “I can feed myself.”

“But (Y/n), you need to eat more,” my friend defended.

“And so do you,” I retorted. “You guys work hard all day, you need to eat.”

He gave me an unreadable look as he somehow stuffed 5 pieces in his mouth at once, making me laugh.

As the boys kept conversing, I tried to enter the conversation here and there. It was hard, with there being seven other voices and of course a lot of the things they talked about where from before I knew them or things that I didn’t have much to say about. As we were starting to wind down and finish our food, I excused myself to the bathroom but I’m not sure any of them noticed.

It made me happy seeing them all have a good time like that, but I couldn’t help but feel a little left out. I didn’t necessarily blame them; it couldn’t be easy to add one more person into the mold when they were all so close and fit together perfectly already. I closed my eyes and shook my head, as if to literally get rid of any negative thoughts that were surfacing in there.

When I walked back to the table, I was shocked to see it void of any people. I quickly walked up to the register to pay for the meal and left the restaurant as fast as I could to go find the boys. Relief washed over me when I saw Seokjin leaning against the wall just before the door. He pushed himself upright when he saw me so we could leave and start walking.

“Thanks for waiting, Jin,” I said.

He put his arm around my shoulder, “Of course, (Y/n).”

“Why’d they all leave?”

He shrugged. “I guess they just didn’t pay attention, maybe they thought you left first? I saw you head to the bathroom though, so I waited for you.”

I looked at the ground as we walked, contemplating the words of my friend. It was hard to not feel upset that I was that unnoticeable, for them to just leave without me as if I were never there in the first place. No, I can’t think those kinds of things. They’re not like other people I’ve known, they wouldn’t do that. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. I shook my head to rid myself of the thoughts once more.

“You alright, (Y/n)?” Jin asked, looking down at me.

I mustered up as much of a smile as I could and nodded. “Let’s just get back.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence as we headed back to the dance studio, where the boys were planning on getting some more practice in before heading back home. Jin opened the door to the studio but paused for a second before turning to look at me. I was about to ask him what was wrong as he went to close the door before I heard a voice from inside.

“She’s just going to leave us anyway, so what’s the point of trying to be close?” I heard Jungkook say.

I stopped Seokjin from closing to door to listen in on the conversation a bit more.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh, though?” Jimin responded.

“I don’t know, aren’t we just temporary to her too? It’s not like she’ll see us after she leaves,” Yoongi’s voice pierced my heart.

“We should still be nice to her while she’s here,” Namjoon said. “It’s not like we can just ignore her.”

I couldn’t register the rest of the conversation, as their voices turned to inaudible mumbles while my head started spinning. I felt Seokjin’s concerned gaze on me as he closed the door, my hand no longer holding it open.

“(Y/n)…” he started.

I didn’t let him finish. All I could think about was getting out of here. Getting out of this place where I clearly wasn’t wanted. So I ran.

(A/N) - I'm not an expert on anything related to being a celebrity manager so I'm sorry if any of the information I put in this chapter regarding what the job entails is inaccurate. This is just how I picture the job to be. I'm trying my best to be as accurate as I can with most things, but I can't know everything about everything lol. 

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope

Send me a message or ask if you want tagged!

[singledarkshade]

New Recruit

Summary: We have a slightly unusual hiring method here. Author’s Note: Set after the original story Protection in the Legends Security Series, just a little foray back into this universe. Enjoy.                                ********************************************* The offices of Legends Security were bright and airy, she could hear laughter from along the corridor which made her even more nervous. Felicity took a long deep breath, trying to remember what Toby, the barman in the club her mother worked, had told her about keeping herself centred.

The door opened and Rip Hunter stepped out, his arm in a sling, but even that didn’t take away from how cool and professional he appeared.

“Miss Smoak,” he greeted her with a small smile, “Please, come in and we can talk.”

Standing, Felicity continued her mantra of ‘breathe’ in her head, while she walked into the office.

“Take a seat,” he told her, gesturing to the chair on the opposite of the desk as he slid into his own.

Felicity took the seat, her eyes drawn to the shelf just behind Rip which held a picture of Rip and a small group of people in front of the Legends Security office, and a metal sculpture of a dragon with emerald eyes.

Tapping at the keyboard, he glanced at her, “You’ll have to forgive my typing, I’m only allowed to use one hand at the moment.”

“I heard about the incident with Zaman Druce,” Felicity noted before asking, “Mr Hunter, why did you ask me here this morning?”

“Call me Rip,” he said, “And I asked you here because I want to offer you a job.”

“A job?” Felicity asked stunned. She’d only left Vegas two days ago and expected she’d have to live off her savings for a while before she even got an interview with anyone.

Rip nodded, “You worked for Queen Consolidated for six months, after graduating from MIT with an impressive record. You then returned to Las Vegas to look after your mother who was in a car accident. Has she recovered fully?”

“Yes,” Felicity smiled, “She’s back to her old self.”

“So, you’ve returned to Star City,” Rip continued, “Do you have a job lined up?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Felicity shook her head.

“Then that works perfectly,” Rip replied.

Felicity smiled before noting, “I’ve been checking jobs all month and I didn’t see that you were looking for anyone. So, what kind of job are you offering?”

Rip shrugged slightly, “We have a slightly unusual hiring method here. I have friends who keep an eye out for people they feel will work well with my team. Detective Jim Brass of Vegas PD was very enthusiastic about how intelligent and intuitive you are.”

“You still haven’t explained what job you’re offering me,” Felicity noted.

“I know. Follow me and I’ll show you around.” Before he could move, his watch began to beep and Rip sighed, “Excuse me, I need to take my painkillers.”

Felicity watched him struggle for a second before taking the pill bottle out his hand and opening it.

“How many?” she asked.

“Two,” he replied. She dropped two pills into his hand and Rip smiled, “Thank you,” he pulled a sports bottle from the drawer. Throwing back the pills he quickly drank some water before returning everything.

As she waited Felicity’s eye was caught by a photograph of Gideon Ryder, owner of Waverider Tech, sitting on his desk. She’d heard they were dating; well her mother had told her about it from the gossip rag she was reading.

“Okay,” Rip said, bringing her focus back to him, “Follow me.”

 Rip watched the young blonde as she took in her surroundings. Her resume wasn’t that long, but Rip had a specific criteria for bringing people into the team and she fit that. He started towards the main meeting room where he knew Digg was in the middle of a meeting with the main team. It was dark, with Digg going through plans on the projector at the front of the room. Motioning her to keep quiet, he opened the door and stood them at the back.

Keeping an eye on Felicity, Rip watched Digg as he went through the security plans for the concert they were working on later in the week. A new client that had defected from Reverse Star Solutions which always made Rip happy.

“Any questions?” Digg said as he turned the lights on, his eye caught Rip who simply tilted his head to indicate Felicity standing quietly at his side.

Digg nodded to Rip before moving on with his briefing. Rip gently touched Felicity’s shoulder and moved her out the room leaving Digg to his work.

“John Diggle is one of the first people I hired,” Rip told her as they continued through the offices, “He runs the main security team who deal with the larger jobs like concerts, parties and other events as well as setting up security arrangements for things like museums and hotels or even homes.”

“Okay,” she said, looking a little confused.

“Come on,” Rip moved her to the small group of offices, reaching the first one he knocked quickly before opening it, “Sara?”

 Rip motioned Felicity into Sara’s office, which as normal had at least three people in it. Nate and Curtis were sitting each with a notepad as they worked on upcoming clients.

“Felicity,” Rip moved her inside, “I’d like you to meet Sara Lance, the head of our discreet bodyguard programme.”

“Hi,” Sara smiled.

Rip grimaced as his phone buzzed, “Can you give Felicity a quick introduction to what you do. I will only be moment, Miss Smoak.”

Stepping outside the room, Rip answered his phone, “You know I’m busy.”

“So am I,” the amused voice of his girlfriend came, “I wanted to check you took your painkillers.”

Rip smiled, “I did.”

“Good,” Gideon replied, “I’ll let John know he doesn’t need to call.”

“I worry how much you and John are teaming up against me,” Rip grimaced.

Gideon chuckled, “I simply want to ensure you’re getting healthy so I can have my way with you sooner.”

Rip felt his cheeks heat slightly, “I have to go.”

“I’ll pick you up for dinner,” Gideon told him.

“Looking forward to it,” Rip replied and hung up.

Rip smiled to himself, he’d never thought he’d ever feel like this for anyone ever again after losing Miranda, but Gideon had simply slipped past the walls he’d built up. Shaking himself Rip headed back into the office to check on his possible new recruit.

 Felicity was a little overwhelmed by the tour she was being given. First the security team, then the discreet bodyguard (which she had to admit was a smart idea) but the moment Rip opened the next door, Felicity was in love.

“We call this the Bridge,” Rip told her with a smile.

Felicity stared at the room that did look like the bridge of a Starship, she moved to the computer closest to her and marvelled at the sophistication of the set-up.

“This is where our back-up team monitor anyone in the field,” Rip explained, “Our discreet bodyguards are never on their own, they always have one member of the back-up team watching over them. For the larger projects, like the concert Diggle is working on just now, three or four of the team work together.”

“And this is the job you’re offering me?” Felicity asked.

Rip shrugged, “At first but I also thought you would be a good member of Sara’s team.”

Surprise filled her, “I’ve taken a few self-defence classes but…”

“Which is why we’ll train you,” Rip explained.

Felicity stared at him for a moment, “What if I don’t want to train?”

“Then I will still offer you the job on the back-up team,” Rip replied, “You’re an IT expert, but you also have an eye for detail that we need for back-up crew.”

A woman with long dark hair appeared and passed him an envelope, which Rip took with a smile.

“This is the offer I have for you,” Rip told her, “I hope you decide to join us, Felicity.”

Taking the envelope, Felicity fought the urge to check it there and then.

“Zari will see you out,” Rip told her, “I have another meeting now. Call me as soon as you have an answer either way.”

With that said he left the room and Felicity looked at the envelope again.

“If you want to know,” the woman, Zari, said, “The pay is good, the perks are good, the people are fantastic and the job interesting. Rip is a great boss and, if he thinks you should join Sara’s team, he is surprisingly good at knowing people’s strengths.”

“Okay,” Felicity said softly as she walked towards the exit with the other woman, “I’ll think it over.”

 Felicity sat in her small apartment with the envelope on the table in front of her as she made herself some tea. She had wanted to rip it open and see what he was offering but forced herself to take a step backwards.

She had been impressed by the place, by how enthusiastic everyone who worked there was and especially the tech they had.

Finally, now she’d had time to process everything, Felicity opened the envelope and read over the job offer fully.

Grabbing her phone, she quickly called the number at the top of the page.

“I’m in.”

[thewriterwithnoplan]

Dirty and Useless (Part 1)

Summary: Jason Todd had always said there were only two types of cop; Dirty and Useless. So when Y/N comes along with a spunky partner and a laughable code name it’s safe to say they don’t exactly see eye to eye. But if they’ve got anything in common it’s their secrets. Both are hiding behind masks whether they know it or not. Will the Robin get the Nightingale to come out of the shadows?  Pairing: Titans!Jason Todd x Reader  Word Count: 1234 Warnings: Swearing

"Morning Y/N!" Melisa chorused with a grin, climbing into her colleague's car and handing the driver a travel mug of F/D. "Thanks for picking me up today, the car should be back from the mechanic tonight so you won't be stuck with me for much longer.

Y/N chuckled and murmured around the lip of her mug as they pulled out of the driveway, "Much as I'd like that, Mel, we've both just been assigned a new case. So I guess we're stuck with each other a while longer."

Melisa gave an exaggerated groan and nursed her own coffee. The pair were always on assignment, rarely did the two get time off and even then the holidays were often tense. The life of a federal agent was like that, especially when you were one of the Sparrows. Or at least that's what the others over at the Federal Burea of Investigation called them.

Y/N and Melisa were fairly famous among both the FBI and the CIA. They had the highest closing rate, having solved more cases than anyone else. And to top it all off they were versatile, whether it be an under-over case, a stakeout, an interrogation or a good old fashion high-speed chase, you called the Sparrows. So neither was exactly surprised that they'd been assigned a new case so quickly.

"What have we got this time?"

Y/N gave the woman a bemused side grin, "Something fun."

***

Y/N parked her car in front of the covert FBI headquarters and turned in her seat to face Melisa. The H/C haired woman produced a manila folder and began pulling out photos to show her partner. The two sat in solemn silence for a while as they examined the gruesome pictures and the mutilated bodies behind each.

"So these five bodies drop, I get that bit." Melisa handed back the images. "But why are they involving the feds, moreover us?"

Y/N didn't look up from the folder as she said, "These photos weren't done by our guys, they were taken by the murderer and sent to Gotham PD addressed to the Robin."

"Okay fine, it's a big-league killer and we get to catch him, but it says the bodies were from all over the country. Why send the case all the way to Chicago, especially if the photos are for Robin?"

Y/N shuffled through the file again and pulled out two new images. One depicted a couple laying broken by a severed trapeze swing. Another showed someone called 'Atlas the Strong Man'. She let Melisa scrutinise them as she exited the car wandered to a nearby food stand. When Y/N returned her partner was standing there with an expression that asked; Well?

"So the couple," Y/N handed Melisa a doughnut, pausing long enough to lick the sugar from her fingers. "Worked at the same circus as all of the other vics. But get this, they died fifteen years ago, their ropes were disintegrated with hydrofluoric acid."

"The same acid used on the new bodies?" Melisa guessed, ripping a chunk from her sugary treat. "And strongman? When did he drop?"

"That's the thing, he hasn't. Clayton Williams is still kicking, he's the last one from Haly's circus."

"Is he a suspect?"

"Nah," Y/N shrugged, leading the other woman into their office building. "Williams is clean, besides hydrofluoric acid sound familiar?"

Melisa licked her lips as she plopped down onto her desk chair, "Do we still have contacts in the Maroni crime family from the Tony Zucco case?"

"Sure do."

***

How had everything gone to shit so fast?

It was supposed to have been a simple mission. They'd done the hard part in figuring out that Nick Zucco was the melting man - a name the press had given the killer, one that the girls had delighted in taunting. This was supposed to be the easy part, sending the police in and waiting as back up that they likely didn't need. One moment Y/N was stretching her legs up and down the sidewalk while Melisa monitored the police scanner. And then the next moment...

"Help me."

"Where's that backup? We need that backup!"

"Send in the Sparrows!"

Melisa had bolted from the car before Y/N could ask what had happened. There was perhaps only one of the major difference between the two women; Melisa could outrun Y/N any day. So the H/C girl was left to eat dust as she made her way into the abandoned building. The emptiness of the place and the utter silence within should have been the first give away that something was amiss. The second was the grunting and the screaming.

"Mel!" Y/N yelled, racing toward the anguished cries. "Mel! Melisa!"

The H/C haired woman skidded around the corner just as a caped man landed one last punch. Gun raised the woman approached, taking in the countless bodies groaning on the floor. Melisa laid beneath the assailant's feet, her body curled in on itself as she whimpered. Y/N trained her firearm on the strange man as she crept toward his shadowed back.

"Put your hands up," She forced her fleeting confidence to arise once again as her hands shook.

It wasn't that Y/N was scared, or that she hadn't been in countless situations like this. Rather, it was the fact that this man had taken down Melisa and that wasn't supposed to be possible. Not for an everyday serial murderer like Nick Zucco. But who else would be here? Wearing a cape and mask and a chest plate?

Y/N realised her mistake the moment she got within arms reach of the man. He lunged for her, clamping a hand onto her wrist even as she shot, once, twice. The man didn't even flinch. What in gods name was he wearing? She'd just shot him point blank and he was completely fine. Panic would have risen in the girl if this wasn't her job. If bad guys and murderers and villains weren't her life.

He twisted her arm behind her back, grunting when she threw her head back and spun out of his grip. Y/N let years of training come to the surface as she blocked the man's fists blow for blow. She dodged and dipped, dancing away from his sweeping kicks and reeling fists. Something in the fighting style was familiar to Y/N, she knew it well.

So when the man twisted the girl was perfectly delighted to find his entire left side unguarded - just as she'd predicted. Y/N threw a swift punch to his side, driving an elbow up into his nose the next moment. The man stumbled backwards giving Y/N the perfect window. With all the force she could muster the girl drove her foot into his chest, sending him sprawling onto the floor underneath one of few lights.

"Dead." Y/N growled, gun aimed between the man's mask covered eyes.

He heaved an exhausted breath, glaring up at the girl, "Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm a Sparrow," She bared her teeth, "The question is; Who do you think you are?"

"I'm Robin, bitch." Something hissed beside them and then smoke exploded to life through the room. A foot connected with Y/N's wrist, sending her gun flying with a horrible crack.

"See you around Sparrow."

[forallyourikemensengokuneeds]

Something every person should read.

Tonight was one of those waking moments when my daughter came to me to go over a moment she was writing about for her English class. They read a book I do not know the author, but the name of it was “Stranger in the Village.” All I could think about when she told me was the weird coincidence that I was writing a story titled the Village. Weird, I know, but this is my life.

She went on to explain the paper was a time when they, the students, felt like they were a stranger in the village. I thought how apt. She is the oldest child of a military family. She more than the others moved around, had to start new schools, had to deal with being a stranger in a new place many times. She chose to go a different route. She went to the fact she is a taxidermist. How the online people went after her for being one. How she had to deal with the masks of people calling her horrid names and even calling her a serial killer to be. This was a difficult time for her, but I do have to say she handled it with a grace that I am glad I inspired. I told her that it was a good paper and that she should be happy with it. It did meet the requirements that her teacher asked for.

I told her after she explained to me why she chose to do that instead of the cliché moments of being that military brat I, of course, laughed and said I was surprised she didn’t chose her freshmen year and the events that unfolded near the end. She looked at me and said I didn’t even think of that. She and I talked about those few months we lived in terror, and she went off to write a second essay, which included the series of events that made her an outsider in a place she should feel safe.

As we discussed the events, one thing kept coming up. The fact she didn’t want to tell me what was going on. She repeated it over and over again. The reason she didn’t want to tell me was she thought she did something wrong. It was somehow her fault any of this happened.

She went upstairs of course with the knowledge that she didn’t do anything wrong, that it wasn’t her fault, but even knowing it, it took a few years for it to finally sink in.

This is personal, and I do have permission from my daughter to share this. It has to be addressed, and I know I have many younger followers, so this needs to be said. Any of my followers should read this. It does have some touchy subjects, but here is the thing, if you don’t read this, if you don’t hear this, it will always be something that haunts you.

 *Names changed*

Alex came home from school and didn’t want to leave my side. I had a few errands to run, and they usually came with me but that day was weird. They were almost clinging. Alex never clung. It was a joke between us that she never wanted to hold my hand since she had become a teenager. I never expected her too, she was after all fourteen going on thirty. For all the differences we had we were close. Alex wanted to speak, I could see, but like me she could not be pushed. She had this tell that warned me that something big was going to be dropped on me at some point in the next few hours. Something that she thought was huge in her fourteen-year-old mind but was probably not a big deal. She had a boyfriend. She had a girlfriend, she was failing a class. These were the things that ran through my head. I was not prepared in the least for the words that came out of her mouth.

“Mom, Hypothetically…..” Alex began, and I stopped her about halfway and asked if her friend that hypothetically was really her. I told her it was more important that I had the details from the start so I could help with whatever was bothering her.

“Yes. Mom. I am scared.” She said. That was my first warning. This was not going to be a typical nor a straightforward teenage problem. The words started pouring from her mouth as we sat outside and I simply listened as I tried to piece together from the ramblings of a teenager that did focus on all the wrong things. A boy in her school, another freshman, was stalking her. She had turned down his advances repeatedly and politely, but he could not accept the words for what they were. That by itself was bad enough, but then she started to go into more detail, and things started coming up that she was glossing over. I would ask questions and pry more information out of her which lead to more questions. After hours of talking I sent her to bed. She was tired and the weeks of worry that she had dealt with this on her shoulders alone had taken their toll. Now it was on my shoulders.

The reality was my firstborn, my headstrong look-alike daughter, had stumbled headfirst into a nightmare. Now it was my nightmare as well. As a parent you are somewhat prepared to deal with bumps and bruises, cuts and scapes, broken hearts, bad grades, and a whole host of other things but never this. I sat on the front steps of my house, smoking a cigarette trying to figure out what my next step was. How was I going to fix this for her? There was no answer. I had nothing. I was now scared in a way I did not know could happen. My daughter was a target of not only a stalker but a highly delusional boy who was making death threats toward her and the school. It was not just about my kid anymore but hundreds of kids.

She had told me she had proof, but somehow I neglected to ask her for it. So I walked up to her room to find her next closest sister, putting a blanket over her as she was asleep. Her sister then told me she hadn’t been sleeping and she was glad that her sister had finally told me and she now could. I left her and went back downstairs comforted that she had told me, and she could now sleep, knowing full well I wasn’t getting any that night. Instead I made a phone call. One of my good friends was the one person in the world who could help me, and he dropped everything and raced over to my house, and we sat outside and discussed every possibility and what I had to do. Fifteen years as a cop and a child task force officer he was now a lawyer and my personal advisor on all things in the legal system. He was a blessing.

The next day I asked her to send me every screenshot, every conversation, every detail she could gather to me. As the day unfolded and the more I read, the more I knew what I had to do. By the last screenshot that was forwarded to her by a friend I was already on the phone with the school and the police in that town. After dealing with that for a few hours I waited until she got off the bus and had printed out the screenshots and we went to the police in our town. It seemed there was a disagreement on whose jurisdiction it really was though it was clear there was something very wrong. The school was also notified by me in both an email and a very long phone call from the principle and the vice principal. Two people I will be forever grateful for in the next coming weeks.

Now we had two soon to be three police districts involved, the school was actively involved, and at this point, only one police officer had seen the proof. He was also a godsend. He questioned her for over an hour, realizing this was not a he-said-she-said thing, and he began the report. He also made it so she could get a restraining order in the morning. I already had the paperwork because of my friend, who was waiting for me to say the word. I called him, and within the hour, he had a closed chamber meeting, and she was granted a special order of protection.  

Everyone saw the same thing I did. Sandy Hook happened a few years before that only thirty miles away. The idea of another tragedy like that was simply too much when there was this much evidence at hand and a mother who would fight this hard to get people to listen. The school’s part was the most critical and I was hoping that they would take it seriously. I know had the backing of a few other friends behind me who were telling me everything would be fine. Everything was going to fine. I knew everything was not going to be fine. This was my kid. My demon child. It was words people could say, but nothing can express the fear I had those days. My husband was more laid back about it. He is always laid back out things like this. It is his military training. Don’t panic. Don’t react. I had the same training. That flew out the door when I hear that my baby has a bulls-eye on her back.

The next day was nothing short of walking into hell. Alex, upon arriving at school was whisked away into the office to hand over the proof. She was then locked away in a closet while the administration had the police there, members of the school board, and her. They kept the boy micheal**Not real name** away from her. He gave his statement, and whatever he said was determined not to be the truth. His parents refused to come and get him and refused for him to be questioned by the police further.

The school then came up with a detailed plan to keep Alex safe while in the school. This was nothing short of a miracle in itself. They had a guard with her at all times for the next three weeks. She was given a map of the school with all the “Hidden” rooms students aren’t supposed to know about. They were her safe places. Micheal was suspended for the rest of the school year after a week of looking further into him, due to active threats made to the school. He was taken out yelling they all would pay.

We had the schools backing. We had the help of the PD, we had the PO, but we still lived in fear for a while. It wasn’t until after the school year ended, and that principle retired that I found out more when he called to tell me so I would be aware. Michael had been expelled from the school, but they had to wait till after the school year to do it for some reason from the school board. The police had been called in after a few days after the major breakthrough again because of threats being made online towards the school. This was his second offense for doing this, and they got a search warrant. What was found when they searched his house still send chills down my spine.

They found fourteen handguns in his room. They also found pictures of her plastered on his wall with his blood dripping down the pictures. He had taken her eyes out of most of them, and they found those next to his bed. He had an article that had been written about her for a local newspaper the year before and it had not only our address but also pictures of her sisters and brother under it. He had a notebook. It was not a manifesto it was a record of his stalking and everything about her.

EVERYTHING. Her shirt size, she dress size, her pant size, her ring size, her friends, her classes, her likes, her dislikes, my name, her fathers name, her siblings names, her birthdate, her classes, and the most disturbing thing, her period cycle “So he could make sure to get her at the right time.”

It also had the routes drawn out to her classes, when she would go, who she talked too. The days she had not spoken to him was tallied. This was all the proof they need to charge him with stalking, threats to a school, plans of discharging a weapon in a school, and the arranging online for the kidnapping and torture of a minor.

He is locked up in a juvenile facility. One that is supposed to focus on mental health as well. We are okay with that. She walked away alive, and though she has her moment, she is mostly normal though she can’t be in crowds for long. she is also hyper-aware of who is around her, and she will not go out of her way to make friends.

The point is she somehow thought this, all of this was her fault. It is not. It never was. If you or someone you know is going something even remotely like this IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT or THEIRS. Do not try to go through this alone. Find someone, anyone to tell. A teacher, a friend, your parents, a friends parents, hell me just tell someone.

That day we went to the police, the school, and everything else we did probably prevented a school shooting. He was prepared. He had a plan. He was doing everything step by step. He was only two steps away from his ultimate goal. Two steps. She prevented a school shooting. She had to live it. No one at the school knew the full extent of what was going on. No one knew what she had done for them. To this day, a lot of those kids are alive because she had the realization to tell me this was going on. She is really my hero.

Don’t be afraid. Say something.

[ninaahelvar]

The Stakeout (3/5)

Summary: In order to get all the information they can, the detective duo, Bakugou and Uraraka, must go on a stakeout. But close proximity may force some underlying feelings to come to the surface. Also known as “Bakugou had a really bad date and it gives him perspective”

AO3

A/N: Hi. Hello. So....@doesitsaysassonmyuniform wrote A FUCKTONNE of this chapter. so like....i feel weird taking credit for it. But i /did/ write it. Enjoy this cause omg we sure as hell did. and not to put this lightly...chapter 4 is gonna have you guys pissing in laughter. have fun with the wait time on that.

also, play the guessing game who writes which section: me or doesitsaysassonmyuniform

xx

The stakeout had been difficult - infiltrating the gang like that, learning when their attack was meant to happen. By the end, they were easy to understand, fill them up with booze and they’d be ready to give you any information they had stored up. You just had to know which drink was the right one in order to get the info you needed.

Unfortunately, they also went shot for shot. Uraraka took the fall every time; she could hang with the best - not a lightweight at all, but she’d usually be hammered by the end of the night. It wasn’t her fault, they needed the information, and well...she was happy to get piss drunk for work. She was getting paid for it, so why the fuck not?

By the time the fucking back up arrived, info in hand and arrests made, Bakugou was left to walk the drunken toddler home. She was bouncing around the streets, going to street lamps to sing songs and dance by herself. She was a mess most of the time, and now? It was chaotic. It would have been funny to watch if he wasn’t the one taking her the fuck home.

“Round face, get here or I’ll blow you into the fucking sky,” he grunted, trying to catch up as she skipped. It irritated him, the pressure behind his eyes building to a point where he felt like a steel rod was being pushed through his temples. Uraraka stopped and turned on her heels, almost stumbling at the quick movement of her body.

“I can do that, watch!” she giggled, her hands just missing each other, before trying to align one more.

“Fucking stop, ya goddamn idiot,” he snapped, grabbing hold of her wrist and guiding her loosely up the street. This was going to be a long fucking night if he didn’t hurry the fuck up.

By his side, the night air could knock Uraraka over at any second, as though she were a piece of paper, adrift until guided elsewhere by outside forces. It was weird seeing her like this - a tension in her shoulders gone and the brightness in her cheeks far pinker than they were in daylight.

Uraraka grinned, face flushed and breath heavy as she leaned into him, the alcohol rushing to her head. Her weight pushed into his side, too hot through their clothes and when she swayed it made him stumble. He reached to stabilize her on instinct, her hands landing on his chest as she looked up at him. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused, filled with something he couldn’t bring himself to understand, catching him off guard…

Her hands felt like fire, searing into his skin, even through the layers of clothes. His gaze dropped to her body, watching as it lightly swayed, rocking as her cheeks bunched and a smile of alcohol and joy mixed together. She looked….peaceful, like she was free of a burden on her shoulders. And in a moment, stopped in time and frozen in place, she stunned him in a way that couldn’t be explained.

If he looked closer, he’d be able to see the tiny freckles on her nose, and the way her eyelashes cast shadows against her cheeks. Bakugou swallowed, pushing her back upright, hands lingering around her arms before he forced himself to let go.  

Uraraka sighed, the air puffing out between them like she was disappointed, and he fought the strange urge to lean back in.

“You caught me,” she rasped, voice humming with the tune of tequila on her breath, and it sent shivers down his spine. He wasn’t used to this. The only time he’d heard her voice go this weird was when she had the flu, and it had never made his palms sweat, or his mouth go dry.

“Can’t have you face-planting in the middle of the street - not unless I have a fucking camera.” Uraraka stared up at him before giggling, breaking into a wild laugh that ended in snorting.

The smile that crept onto his face may have been unwelcome at any other moment, but for once, he didn’t push it back.

*

Bakugou was screwed man. A very screwed man. Fucking screwed. How the fuck did this even happen? One second, she was in his partner, and now this woman was making him feel like he was a goddamn teenager. Even when he was a fucking teenager he never felt like this? Was he reverting back to his younger self to live a horny teenage life? Was this what that Benjamin Button movie was all about? What in the world was fucking happening to him?

It had been two weeks since the stakeout, and in those two weeks he had walked into wall twice, spilled coffee on work documents at least eight time, and had several stunted conversations. Hell, he’d fucking stuttered when she asked if he wanted a donut - Stuttered! He’d never stuttered in his entire fucking life, that was that idiot Deku’s forte, and he hadn’t planned on starting.

It didn’t help that every time she walked past him, he could smell her shitty perfume, or that she had tackled him a few times during training sessions. She was something attractive now and it made him all weird and nervous, like a switch had been flipped and now he couldn’t ignore it. It didn’t help that he knew for a fact that everyone saw right through him. He didn’t act like an idiot unless there was good reason.

Walking into work, he pushed his backpack off his shoulder and onto the floor by his chair. He instinctively sat down until he felt awkward sitting alone - as though he were waiting for Uraraka to arrive to be a complete fucking idiot. Bakugou realised he needed to get a new routine, to fix this old broken one in order to move on. That’s what he needed to do. He couldn’t have her, so he would push the feelings aside.

In the kitchen, he started the coffee machine up, watching as the strong coffee poured into the cup. Bakugou hit the button on the fancy machine again, watching as the hit that would be given would most likely send Uraraka into a caffeine frenzy. No. Not her. Kirishima. When it was finished, he was about to sip at it when someone came charging into his back, spilling his coffee all over his shirt.

“Hey Blasty!” Her voice chimed, too bright this early in the morning. God, why the fuck was she so happy?! She hated mornings!

“Fuck!” Bakugou swore, airing out his black shirt. He was lucky it wouldn’t fucking show, but the burning hot caffeine that ran down him sure hurt. Regardless of his quirk, heat could still be a bitch.

Uraraka stood in front of him, fixing up her leather jacket as she grimaced at him. She looked hotter than normal - which was saying something in his opinion. She was wearing a teal tank top and some jeans, which wasn’t exactly high fashion by any means, but her clothes clung to her in a way that made him get a dry mouth. It also didn’t help that the necklace she wore was now dangling over her shirt and pulling it down across her cleavage. He wasn’t going to stare. But that male part of his brain was finally sparking to life cause that was all he wanted to stare at. “Sorry, but did you hear? There’s a new case we’re getting today!”

“What kind of case?” he asked, shaking off his shirt before leaning on the kitchen counter.

“Stakeout,” she said, and Bakugou stiffened. Fuck this couldn’t be - “Joking!” Bakugou rolled his eyes.  “It’s just some dude being an asshole, Aizawa is waiting for us,” she said, gesturing towards the main office. Bakugou nodded, following her as she walked.

Bakugou tried to think of anything else; watching her was making him an idiot. It was an odd thing to concentrate on something that wasn’t following someone. He knew the route - he could do this and ignore her. Coffee. The coffee cup in his hand was somewhat heavy. He wondered if it was what the cup was made of or the combination of both his coffee and the cup.

Bakugou fucking tripped, foot catching on a bag and spilling coffee down himself for the second time that day. He was a goddamn fucking idiot.

“Fuck,” he cursed, trying to untangle his foot from the bag that only seemed to snare him tighter as the struggled continued. “Shit, can you idiots not leave your shit on the floor,” he spat, kicking at the bag, then Uraraka giggled and he froze, looking back up at her.

“That’s your bag, Bakugou,” Uraraka said, and as Bakugou looked down, he wanted to fucking explode the precinct. Why...did bad things happen to semi-good people? He finally was able to get the bag loose and get to the office without another delay. He kinda wished a meteor came down from the sky and killed the entire office - that’s how he wanted to go, no heroics, just death.

Entering Aizawa’s office, they were met with a face of disdain - which wasn’t anything new, but in Bakugou’s state of mind, he felt seen. Swallowing hard, Bakugou took a seat opposite his commanding officer and next to Uraraka.

“Good to see you two,” he greeted with the same drawl he said most things with, “here’s the case file we have from PD.” Aizawa handed over a large case file to Uraraka, Bakugou leaned over her shoulder slightly to check on some of the stats. He grimaced when he saw the quirk. This would be a hard case. Fun, but hard. “He’s Nakamura Genzo, quirk: electro bomb. As far as we know, he can draw power from electricity around him and use it to his advantage, manipulating the electric impulses in the human body for example. He’s committed a spate of robberies, and killed a few different people. If we don’t catch him quickly, we suspect he’ll commit mass murder any day,” Aizawa explained and Uraraka perked. Bakugou shut his eyes - he knew this would be a hard case….but not like this.

“So, we’re going to have to analyse a lot of data and go on a raid in the next few days,” she confirmed, and Aizawa gave a nod.

“Exactly, I’m expecting long days and nights, you two. Just get this done quickly. I don’t need another trigger stakeout,” he commented, and Bakugou stood, giving a vague nod of agreement to Aizawa.

“You and me both,” Bakugou muttered underneath his breath. The two left the office, heading towards their desks and started to work. It had felt like a long time since Bakugou felt himself, a case was needed in order to feel centred once again. At their desks, Bakugou and Uraraka immediately started to comb through his file, picking up on his MO and understanding that it was crime of opportunity, not planning. He didn’t need to plan in order to execute what he wanted.

Over the course of a week, Uraraka and Bakugou had late nights hovering over maps and analysing the perps MO. He struck in relatively low populated areas, which meant little police or quirk agencies. The way he would attack at night, and make sure power didn’t return for another hour afterwards.

“Wouldn’t it make sense that he’s still around the area, at least,” Uraraka suggested. Bakugou looked at her, the lowlight of a desk lamp on her desk the only thing in the office brightening up the space. Bakugou took the reports from her hand as she went to the maps, looking over the radius of each area. Bakugou’s brow furrowed.

“We always thought that he left it dark an hour after to give himself time, but how far can his quirk reach? It wouldn’t make much fucking sense if he could wipe out a specific space just cause he fucking could,” Bakugou said and Uraraka nodded, tucking the long strands behind her ear as she hovered over more papers on her desk.

“What if the area he wipes power from is his furthest reach,” she said, finger circling one of the spots, “here,” she said, then showing the distance wasn’t much different in each area.

“He doesn’t run off to give himself time…”

“He stays and watches to make sure the victims die,” Uraraka finished.

“Sadistic fuck,” Bakugou spat. Looking over the areas he hit, Bakugou remembered one from his childhood, somewhat close to the areas the guy had already attacked. Finger firmly pressing into the map. “And look, he’s got a perfect spot here. Given how often he attacks, he’d attack tomorrow if we’re lucky.”

“We’ll start a mission tomorrow,” Uraraka beamed and Bakugou relaxed into his chair, rubbing at his eyes.

“God, I’m fucking tired,” he groaned. The night had run its course, the case stalled due to the late hour, which left the two of them sitting there like exhausted idiots.

“So,” Uraraka said with a slight yawn, “are you going to tell me what’s going on with you, or am I going to have to guess?” Bakugou looked at her out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed as he wasn’t quite catching up.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve been acting weird! You don’t act weird. I know how you act when you’re excited or mad, or even the difference between when you’re upset and raging. These past few weeks have shown you being...clumsy,” she said, and it was as though Bakugou was suddenly reminded of how he was feeling. He shook it off, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What if I bumped my fucking head, got a concussion or something?” he asked with a shrug. It wasn’t until after the excuse was made did he feel like an idiot.

“Unlikely,” Uraraka laughed, leaning forward on her knees, elbows pressed down and chin cupped in her hands. “Did your mom get you new shoes to wear to work?”

“That was one fucking time, and I’m telling you now, never mention it again or I’ll kill you,” he warned, eyeing her down.

Uraraka began to think, deeply wondering what her next guess would be. “What about…”

“Stop guessing!”

“Do you like someone in the precinct? You see them and get all weird?” she said, and Bakugou’s jaw went tight. “Am I right for once! You actually like someone!” God why did she have to be fucking looking at him?

“I don’t like anyone, round face! Or did my date send you the wrong fucking idea?” he snarled, and Uraraka hissed.

“Jeez, sorry,” Uraraka laughed before bending to the side of her desk and picking up her bag. “I’m going to head home. See you tomorrow,” she yawned again, standing up and patting Bakugou’s shoulder.

“Whatever,” he muttered as he gave a wager wave over his shoulder.

There was part of him that wanted to apologise, wanted to say sorry for handling her roughly - but that wasn’t him. He didn’t say sorry, he wasn’t affectionate, Bakugou wouldn’t know how to be any of those things even if he tried. He took a rough hold on her - he always did that. He yelled. He always did that.

But somehow, it felt mean to say it to her. That he shouldn’t be treating her that way. But he had already been doing that - acting like a fucking fool because acting himself seemed so fucking foreign to him. It was Uraraka! Why did it have to be Uraraka?

Leaning back in his chair, the backrest allowing him to recline, and his hands ran over his face. He sighed, and tried to remember himself. He was Katsuki fucking Bakugou, he didn’t need to be anyone else. But...didn’t she deserve someone else? Someone like Deku, that treated her like she was a girl? Bakugou couldn’t do that - wouldn’t do that. She was Uraraka, a fucking great agent that could take down an army if she thought she had to. Treating her as anything but a badass that could put up with his shit was difficult for him.

She wasn’t like everyone else, his date had proven that...

*

“Hey, Bakugou right?” The chick with glasses asked, standing up from the small, intimate table to greet him.

“Yeah.” he said, grabbing onto her extended hand to shake it. She’d had her arm outstretched weirdly - as though she was going for a hug - and she made a face when he redirected it. The fuck was her problem? “You’re Takahashi yeah?  Sorry I’m late - Kirishima talked my fucking ears off before I left.”

She smiled - damn her mouth was big, weird - and laughed slightly, moving to take her seat once more. Her glass of water was almost empty already, how long had she fucking been there for? “Kirishima is quite the talker. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Bakugou snorted, collapsing into the free chair, it scraping loudly against the floor. “Only the good shit I hope - I’ll kill him if he’s been bad mouthing me to the whole agency. You work in Accounting right?”

Her smile fell for a moment. “Archives actually.”

Oh. He knew it started with an A. He leaned forward to grab his water glass. “Oh yeah. Archives. Must be boring down there - all those fucking files.” The water slurped as he drank, and he saw her flinch slightly. Jesus. What kind of uptight bitch had Kirishima set him up with.

“Actually, I quite enjoy it.” She pushed up her glasses - huh, she didn’t have bad eyes though. They were a nice green. “ It may not be as glamorous as being an agent, but it’s just as important to keep track of the agency’s files and make sure everything runs smoothly.” Bakugou nodded. “ No I hear ya - our paperwork has to go somewhere, and someone has to keep track of everything. If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be able to connect all the cold cases we do. Not to mention making sure all the departments are able to coordinate. “

Takahashi blinked in surprise, as though she hadn’t expected him to see the reason why that shit was important.

“Yes. You’re exactly right.” She said, leaning forward ever so slightly, her elbow resting on the table.

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill myself out of boredom - I don’t know how you do it, Glasses.” Bakugou crossed his arms, pushing up to lean on the table like she was.

“Glasses?”

“You’re wearing ‘em aren’t ya?”

“Yes but -”

“I could call you something else if you’d prefer.”

“My name would be nice.”

“Nah. I like glasses better. Easier to remember” He reached for the menu. “What were you thinking of getting? I’ve been to this place a few times before, it’s good.”

The night continued with stunted conversations, awkward silences and a fuck ton of Bakugou shoving his face with food for a lack of anything better to do. If someone had told him that the shitty beginning had been the highlight, he could have cut and bolted sooner. Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened. So far he’d learnt three things about this woman. One - she wore glasses. Two - She worked in Archives. Three - she wasn’t too bad to look at.

Wait. He needed to add a fourth.

Four - she wasn’t enjoying this date at all.

They had one thing in common then.

“Did you want to fuck or?” Bakugou asked.

Glasses paused in whatever diatribe she’d been on - he really hadn’t been paying attention at this point, which probably wasn’t good. She dropped her chopsticks in surprise, “Excuse me?”

Shit, that probably didn’t come out the way he wanted.

“I mean this isn’t going how we both wanted. So. What do ya want?” He wiped his face with a napkin, before smirking. “You looking for a hot night or what?”

Her jaw dropped, her glasses slightly slipping on her nose. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that! Kirishima told me you were crass but this is unbelievable!”

“If he told you I was crass, than he’s more honest than I expected. But he obviously didn’t tell you that I hate wasting time,” he started, reclining back into the chair. “All I can tell you is that I’m not looking for anything long term right now, and I don’t think we’re compatible for that either way - but you’re not unattractive and I like you well enough. So I’m gonna ask again - you wanna fuck?”

Rice wine hit his face, the bottle that they had been sharing hitting the table cloth in a dull thump. The patrons around them turned, sensing drama like fucking vultures, and he took a deep breath. His hands twitched, sweat automatically pooling in his palms and he had to force himself not to detonate them even slightly. He shook his head, the wine dripping onto his nice shirt, and down his arms. “You could have just said no.”

“I thought you said you like action Bakugou,” she challenged, anger in her voice which must have been a first for her.  

“I do - I don’t appreciate you throwing a fucking tantrum like a child,” he said, spitting away the wine that dripped into his mouth.  

“I can’t belie - Do you even know how to talk to women?”

“I do it everyday, so I’d say so.”

“You’re such an asshole. I don’t know why I let Kirishima talk me into this!”

He shoved himself away from the table. “I don’t know why he even thought this would work - he knows I don’t like frigid bitches like you!”

The crowd gasped, and he could see the nearby waitstaff looking nervous.

To Glasses credit, she barely reacted beyond the initial shock of the statement. Instead, she calmly grabbed her nearby mug, and in a surprisingly fluid motion, threw it at his face. “Asshole!”

Only years of training his reflexes had Bakugou ducking in time, and the cup flew over his head and smashed into the wall. A snarl tore at his lips and his hands popped against his control, sparks flying up his now flammable shirt sleeves. “You bitch! Are you trying to hurt someone?”

Her eyes widened and she took a step back as several patrons started to scream. Heat rushed up his arms, and when he looked down it was to flames creeping up his arms. “Fuck!” He patted the shirt frantically, trying to put them out. Glasses ran over, water glass in hand and as the cool liquid hit him, he couldn’t help but think it was the third time that night she’d thrown something at him.

“I’m calling the police,” a waiter shouted, and Bakugou  whipped around to face him, scorch marks and wine stains covering his shirt, a crazed look in his eyes. “ Don’t fucking bother - I’ll do it myself.” He turned back to Glasses, who was now quietly gathering her things.  “Thanks for the date Frigid. I’ll pay, but if you tell anyone what happened here I’ll set your office on fire.”

She nodded, and a moment later she was out the door.

He threw down a wad of cash onto the table, glared at the waiter and walked to the corner of the restaurant. He pulled out his phone, and clicked the contact he still hated having, even after the almost fifteen years he’d had it.  

The patrons stared and whispered, and Bakugou did his best not to hunch over, he refused to look ashamed. Even if he… maybe was.

The call connected.

“Kacchan? What’s wr-”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, holding his fist tight. “I need you to come fucking pick me up okay - and come deal with a few assholes at this restaurant.”

“I’m off duty - did you call it into the station and file a public disturbance report?”

“I’m the public disturbance, and you’re the only shitty officer I know. So come to this goddamn restaurant.”

There was a sigh over the phone, and he could hear muffled whispers, like Deku was talking to whoever the fuck he was with. Fucking Nerd.

“What’s the address?”

This was gonna suck balls.

~

When Deku arrived, his police lights flashing in the dark and casting its colours across the restaurant, it was empty. Only Bakugou remained along with the staff, as everyone else had quickly left after all the drama, all promised a free meal at another time.

Bakugou had gotten a ban. They hadn’t even let him leave to stand out the front, afraid he’d walk off and not deal with the police. He’d tried showing them his badge, but they remained unimpressed. Fucking assholes. He could have left, but he really didn’t want this getting out.

Deku shut the building door behind him, and raised an eyebrow at the sight before him.

“Not a fucking word,” Bakugou warned.

Deku simply smiled, smug cunt, and brought out his little notebook, pen at the ready. When Bakugou looked closer, he could tell the dick didn’t even have the pen clicked into position Deku turned to the waiters that had held Bakugou hostage. “I heard there was a disturbance Sirs?”

Asshole number one nodded. “Yeah. This guy caused a huge scene, set the place on fire and everything.”

Bakugou snorted. “Do you see anything else that’s burnt dumbass?” He gestured towards his scorched self, crossing his arms.  

Deku sighed. “So you got into a fight Bakugou? With who?”

Bakugou opened his mouth, but the waiter cut him off. “His date.”

Deku blinked rapidly, barely maintaining a calm composure. “Your date? You were here on a date?”

Trying to play it cool, Bakugou shrugged. “Wasn’t a very good one.”

“I can see that,” the Detective replied.  Bakugou could see the amusement in his eyes, the fucking asshole.  Deku focused back on the waiter, “So a basic public disturbance report? Nothing was damaged?”

The waiter nodded. “I wouldn’t have bothered but the manager has a strict policy now. Plus they did break several glasses, and cost us a restaurant full of customers.”

A frown crossed Deku’s face, and he shot Bakugou a judging glance. Bakugou sneered back. He knew it was bad, and if Aizawa ever found out the man would tear him a new asshole, but it wasn’t that bad. Deku had seen him much worse than this.

“To be fair, she broke all the glasses.” Bakugou chimed in. “If anything, I’m the victim here.”

Deku rolled his eyes. “All right, that should be enough for the report. I can get more details from this one on my way to the station.” He gave the waiter a smile, “He’ll be properly dealt with, I assure you.”  He was never going back to the station, but they didn’t have to know that.

“Good.” The waiter replied, before he ushered them out of the restaurant. “If I ever see you here again Sir, I’ll be forced to call security.”

“Yeah yeah,” Bakugou grumbled, already walking to the car. He couldn’t wait to get out of here and forget this night happened.

“Kacchan, I have to tell you -”

“I said not a fucking word Deku. Don’t start.”

“But you-”

“No.”

He grabbed the door handle, and flopped into the back seat, slamming the door behind him.

Finally. Some peace and quiet.

“Hey Blasty.”

Bakugou jumped, a strangled sound escaping his throat and he stared.

And stared.

And fucking Uraraka stared back, shit eating grin on her face.

He opened the door and slammed it behind him, grabbing onto Deku who was about to walk around. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

Deku sighed. “I tried to tell you, you told me to shut up.”

Bakugou swore, his grip on Deku’s arm tightening. The nerd didn’t even flinch. “I mean why the fuck is she here?”

Shrugging out of his hold Deku stepped back. “I was off duty - which if you’d listened to me when you called you would have remembered, and we were getting coffee. She wanted to tag along.”

Bakugou groaned, his suffering just wasn’t fucking ending. “Deku, I swear to god if you weren’t my ride out of here I’d fucking murder you right now.”

“How was I supposed to know you had a bad date? Besides, she’s your partner, you know she’d find out eventually.” He replied calmly. How the fuck he always remained so calm now, Bakugou would never know.

“Yeah. Eventually. Preferably never!”

A cheery voice chimed in. “I can hear you guys you know. You’re not exactly quiet.”

Fuck.

*

When Bakugou headed into work, still groggy from the late night investigation, he knew he needed to do something about this fucking mess. Bakugou felt like he was ready to get the whole thing over with. That morning had been one of the first times where Bakugou didn’t want to go to work. He knew they had a lead, he knew they were going on an active mission...but he just wanted to do the most pathetic thing and hide. He never wanted to hide, but she was beginning to see him, and he didn’t like being seen. She was too close, and he needed distance.

When Kirishima walked into the office before Uraraka, Bakugou almost cheered.

“Shitty hair! Come here,” Bakugou shouted, and Kirishima turned, smiling as he skipped over.

“What’s up dude?” he asked, punching at Bakugou’s shoulder.

“I need you to switch with me on the mission today,” he said, hoping the idiot wouldn’t ask. But he did. The crease in his brow told Bakugou enough.

“What? Why? It’s definitely going to be a firefight, you sure you wanna -”

“Yes! I’m sure,” Bakugou snapped. Why did Kirishima have to be Bakugou’s best friend? Although Uraraka was close, Kirishima knew Bakugou just as well.

Kirishima stared at Bakugou, as though cogs were working in his mind, finally fitting pieces together. “Dude...what’s going on with you?”

“I can’t…” Bakugou stopped himself, licking at his lips and combing his fingers through his hair. “I can’t go on a mission with her,” he said with a quieter voice. Shame. He felt ashamed to ask.

“With Uraraka?” he asked, and as Bakugou gave one firm nod, Kirishima gave Bakugou space - a foot back was all he needed. “What happened?”

Bakugou looked down at his feet before he looked back at Kirishima. “...you know what happened,” Bakugou’s jaw set tight as it became harder to swallow.

“You..” Kirishima started, hand hesitating to land on Bakugou’s shoulder. “Are you saying you just realised you like her?”

Seen.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he snapped, hands bound like a vice at either side of him, “but yes,” he cleared his throat, letting Kirishima’s hand fall from his shoulder

“Well why are you -”

“I can’t be around her right now, okay! And like you said, this is gonna be a firefight and I can’t afford to make a mistake.” Bakugou finally broke, his voice cracking as he shouted. Kirishima didn’t flinch like Bakugou thought he would. He sighed simply and smiled.

“Okay,” and Bakugou felt himself let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. “I’ll talk it over with Aizawa. Just...try and relax dude,” he said, voice warm with comfort. Bakugou knew Kirishima could calm him down, but this was different. Comfort. Stop freaking out, I got you.

“I’m trying,” Bakugou said, carding his fingers through

When Kirishima came out of Aizawa’s office, an eager nod on his shoulders, Bakugou went to the filing office. Unfortunately, Bakugou was trading a mission for a large amount of paperwork. Kirishima and Kaminari were the worst in the precinct with paperwork - always late, always a mess, and oftentimes...ruining their cases. If it meant these idiots closed a few cases, Bakugou was willing to get on with this - he couldn’t be in a precinct with a bunch of rejects. It also meant that when he was sitting with Kaminari - the moron that never shut up - he was away from Uraraka when she got there.

The entire day of Bakugou was hearing Electric Pikachu blasting on about another shitty thing going on in his personal life and whatever else. Bakugou snapped the idiot back to attention when he got too friendly and made sure he got back on track. It didn’t take much - just a strategic stare when pikachu was getting too off topic. In all, Bakugou was able to get a majority of shitty hair’s paperwork done over the day. It wasn’t hard - Kirishima always started them, but never had the attention span to expand where he needed.

When Bakugou’s shift was ending close to 11pm, the doors to the elevator dinged and out came a raging Uraraka. She and Kirishima looked beat - physically and emotionally. Uraraka spotted him and pointed directly at him, eyes burning like the pits of hell. She was angry beyond word could say.

“You swapped with Kirishima? What the fuck, Bakugou?” she yelled.

Bakugou slammed down the paperwork on Kirishima’s desk and the red haired idiot went to look over it. “It’s not a big deal I just didn’t want to deal with it-”

“- You didn’t fucking tell me, you cunt!” she snapped and the room went still. Not many people were around, but the word alone stunned the entire precinct.

“....” he paused before he could reply. “Wow okay.” He’d never heard her swear like that before. It was...attractive. No! Stop it!

“It’s fine if you wanna pull out ‘cause of whatever bullshit you’re on this week - you’ve been acting weird over the last month but give me some warning next time. I’d already planned a take down with you in mind, and Kirishima’s great but it’s not the same.”

Kirishima coughed in the corner.

Right. She only cared because it fucked with her plans. Not that he should be surprised, she’d made a habit of slaving over those things. He prefered to wing it. “Sorry I didn’t give you my two weeks notice boss, I’ll do better next time, Fucking christ.”

Uraraka seemed hurt - as though not telling her was a painful act. Bakugou didn’t understand - he was the one in the emotional turmoil, not her! She was the best fighter beside Bakugou, she could handle any criminal without him. Whatever bullshit she was spouting was some weird insecurity that he didn’t have time to unpack.

The two stared each other down, and as Uraraka broke, she turned on her heel only to halt herself. She couldn’t put pressure on her foot and Bakugou caught the wince that escaped her lips. She bound her hands tight and didn’t budge, as though she was waiting for Bakugou to turn away, but he wasn’t going to.

“Wait, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked, standing and getting her to face him.

“Nothing, I just miscalculated a landing is all,” she spat, trying to get back to the  elevator with that stupid limp she was trying to walk with.

“You’ve been injured this whole time and you decided to fucking scream at me instead? You crazy fucking banshee.” Bakugou swore under his breath as he moved towards her, taking her up by the waist to get the pressure off her foot.

“Hey - I’m still pissed!” she cursed as him, though there wasn’t much she could do except float away - but regardless, he would be guiding her to the lounge - they kept a first aid kit there. She tried to fight against him, but as his hand tightened on her waist, she stiffened.

“Don’t care, stop struggling dipshit,” he said, pulling a majority of her weight on his hip as he moved to the next room. He put her down on the couch, dragging the coffee table over for her foot as he tried to find the first aid kit.

“You act like you don’t care, now you’re my fucking mother,” Uraraka snarled, and Bakugou looked over his shoulder. She rested back into the cushions as she started to take off her shoe.

“You’re hurt, you fucking moron, of course I care,” he said over his shoulder, getting back to the first aid kit. He couldn’t do much, but he could give basic first aid.

There was silence among them once more - and under most circumstances it would have been fine, but they were both angry, which led to yelling in the long run. Yet, Uraraka was stewing with rage. Her rage was like an inferno, billowing out like an out of control forest fire. Now...she let herself sit in it, not quite erupting, but ready to scorch him when she felt it was necessary.

“Did you at least catch the guy?” he asked, sitting down on the coffee table, hoisting her foot onto his lap and inspecting it. He twisted it slightly, from right to left, back and forth, over and over to find where it was the worst.

“Yeah,” Uraraka said just before she winced. Bakugou lightened his grip on her ankle, letting his finger gingerly touch at her foot.

“Well, why are you whining?” Bakugou shot her a look, finding her not as angry, but worried, as though she were to blame for something. Bakugou’s look softened, watching as she chewed on her lip.

“Why did you swap with Kirishima?” she asked, voice soft and barely present. Bakugou swallowed, focusing back on her foot and wrapping it up with the bandages from the first aid kit.

“I just did. What’s wrong with switching things up?”

“You usually tell me first, what’s with the silent treatment?”

Bakugou slid his hand further up her calf, a small form of pleasure - touching her bare skin to whatever extent he wanted. He wasn’t used to touching her so softly, and somewhat enjoying the fact that she was so tender under his hand. When he finally tucked the bandage up and made sure it was secure. “I didn’t think I needed to. Now I realise you keep me around to stop you from fucking up on missions,” he challenged.

“Hey, that’s not true,” she replied forcefully, and he scoffed.

“I was kidding around,” Bakugou cracked a smirk, looking back at her to find her still as worried as before.

“Why did you switch?” she asked again.

Bakugou’s jaw went tight, his mouth dry and hands feeling unsteady. “I’m switching for the next few weeks,” he said, putting her foot on the table and leaving to go towards the door.

“What? What are you saying, you don’t wanna be partners anymore?” Bakugou stopped, turning back quickly.

“No! I just…” he had to stop himself, for all the truth he shared with her - he couldn’t let this slip. “I’m not just working with you, Round Face. Don’t get so fucking worked up over it,” he shook his head, watching as Uraraka struggled to understand.

“You can’t just leave like that! You have to tell me for once what -” she said, starting to stand, only to fall victim to the pain in her ankle. “Ah!” Uraraka fell back against the couch.

“Stay still, idiot,” he warned her. “Kirishima is just as good. Not me, but, he can measure up.” Clearing his throat, he tucked his hands into his pockets and left.

“Asshole!” He heard Uraraka yelled.

He wasn’t going to argue with that.

What happened next none of them expected. When transporting Nakamura Genzo, the electric based prick sapped all the electricity from surrounding buildings and cars and set off an explosion within the truck. He killed four federal agents and injured two others. Kirishima and Uraraka were not needed for the transport, but now, it meant their case was still on going. Which also meant, even if Bakugou wanted to go back and be partners with Uraraka, he needed to wait until she closed her case with Kirishima.

The next two months of hateful looks, wandering glances and utter agony, Bakugou had finally had enough of the loneliness. Uraraka made it hard, the spiteful way she looked at him, and making sure he felt bad every single time he came close to her. He never felt bad for anything, especially not her. But now….she made it hard. She just kept making it hard.

Bakugou hadn’t ever really experienced attraction like this - sure, he’d fucked a few people, been able to move on in no time. But this was different. It wasn’t a one night stand, it was a person that he had to work with - it was fucking Uraraka. She wasn’t someone that he could fuck around with to get over the feelings that were brewing inside - she’d see her every day, have to be close to her, touch her. And through it all, he didn’t want to hurt her.

He said to himself that he wanted to push the feelings aside, that he needed to get into a new routine in order to move on from whatever he was doing with himself. But he realised...it was already hidden, just below the surface, simmering until just the right amount of heat was added to have him boiling over. There was no way to cool down until the heat was gone for good.

The heat was Uraraka. And he couldn’t get rid of her.

He never wanted to. In the past, Aizawa had asked if Bakugou wanted a different partner, because he and Uraraka argued all the time. But...he couldn’t say yes. He wanted her more than he wanted anyone else. He couldn’t explain it at the time; a combination of attraction and admiration. Bakugou just didn’t understand what attraction truly meant for him. What it would conjure deep down. He wanted Uraraka to stay by his side through missions, through days and nights, to have her like no one else had.

And he didn’t know how to handle that.

So...he had to run. He had to run from it all or risk everything. Push her aside so they’d never be where they were once. Bakugou had to give her up, in order to be better.

Bakugou hated everything that was happening, understanding why he was feeling the way he was. He hated it all. He hated that he felt at all!

When his shift ended, the shitty colleagues trying to get a goodbye out of him - Bakugou just pushed them all aside. He needed to get out of the office, needed to be anywhere else. And with all these feelings that he had never experienced and had a terrible time of keeping control of, he needed to drown them out. Quite literally.

He found the closest club to his apartment, sat at the bar, and ordered a drink. He felt like an idiot, letting himself buy into thoughts that he was feeling something. All the signs were there. He didn’t need to control how he spoke to Uraraka - years of being around each other, she knew him better than anyone. Kirishima was an exception, but he still wanted Bakugou to relax - which he never understood. Bakugou could rage and rant to Uraraka during late night investigations, but she never tried to get him to rephrase anything. Bakugou had limited connections, especially people he called friends, but Uraraka was something different - a partner, but more.

He was an idiot that didn’t know what attraction meant until now. And now its caught a fixation and he can’t fucking shake it. Why couldn’t he shake it? It wasn’t as if he liked Uraraka in a romantic way. He thought she was attractive sure, and she was unlike any other woman he’d met. She never let him get away with anything, and made him a better person. He felt like a better person around her, and the past two months had been agony, even though it had been self inflicted. But it didn’t mean…

Wait...did it?

Fuck.

Bakugou downed his drink, the burn against his throat so much easier to acknowledge than the one in his chest, and he ordered another.

He couldn’t remember much after that. It started with one more drink. Then it lead to four others. Soon it became shot for shot with whoever was willing to give him the time of day. By the time his phone was in his hand, a smile that was mostly the alcohol, he didn’t remember much. He just remembered seeing Uraraka’s name, the stupid - yet adorable - picture of her puffed up cheeks in his hand as she stared him down. She looked grumpy, but it fit Uraraka to a tee. And then he was home. Blissful and unaware of what had actually transpired that night.

*~*~*

Uraraka was about to go to sleep, nearly 2am and her body was exhausted, when her phone received a text.

[stunudo]

Infiltrated: Part 7

A FBI Agent reader thrusts herself in the middle of the Reaper investigation, leaving the BAU questioning if they need her. Foyet unleashes another layer to his manipulation of Aaron Hotchner and his team. Is this consulting agent trustworthy? Something about her tells Hotch that this case is just as important to her as it is him. Can she work both sides of the law to meet her means? A salacious series of smut and betrayal….

Featuring: George Foyet x Female Reader, Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Setting: Season 5

A/N:  This is dark and dangerous. Our reader goes by Agent Turner to protect her identity. xoxo Stu

Series

Warnings: Minor mentions of violence, moral repugnancy, and general unsub behavior. Alcohol. Only implied of smut this time.

Your name: submit What is this?

There were days when you felt almost normal: going to work, grabbing groceries, drinking heavily, both coffee and other dark liquids. Then there were patches of time when you felt yourself cracking like a fraying rope, each layer of twine snapping as the two directions you had tied yourself to drew you apart. Splitting you open. The stress had you edgy, the booze made you weepy.

George was angry that you had no sway with the marshals, you told him to go find himself a hole to fill in that agency instead. It was petty, but you weren’t above that at the moment. You needed time to breathe and whenever you closed your eyes you saw Hotch in that hospital bed. It had been twenty days, when your phone rang unexpectedly.

“Turner?” You sat at your desk, mindlessly filling out a report. You coffee cold and your mind unfocused when his gruff voice woke you up.

“Y/N, it’s me.” Aaron Hotchner had all but dropped off the face of the earth since you left his hospital room to give him and his ex-wife privacy.

“Caller ID. How are you?” You kept your voice low and your tone light, each word clipped.

“Been better, apparently being stabbed is a real inconvenience.” He was being glib? Honestly.

“And you call yourself a profiler... So did you need something or just wanted to save me from the mountain of reports I’d rather not do?”

“If you’re busy, Y/N, by all means--”

“Aaron?” You cut him off. “Look, I should be out on time tonight. Do you want me to pick up some take out and stop by?”

“I’m not looking for pity,” He replied simply.

“That’s good, because I don’t feel sorry for you.” You switched ears as you let him work through your bluntness. “Aaron Hotchner, you faced the Reaper and lived to hunt him down. You have my respect.... Now, can I invite myself over or would you rather continue to wallow alone?”

“Call when you’re downstairs, the building’s security has been ramped up.”

You couldn’t help but smirk into the mouthpiece. “7-ish?”

Stepping through the glass doors into the BAU’s bullpen made you feel like a substitute teacher walking in on the wrong lecture. Slowly, the profilers unwrapped their brains from their previous case to acknowledge your presence.

“Sorry to bother you all,” you tried overtly polite as your invitation was getting stale after the attack on their beloved Unit Chief. “Just wanted to check in since, everything.”

Morgan’s eyebrows practically lept off his face, Reid’s mouth drooped widely as JJ froze. Prentiss was the first to break the uncomfortable silence, “Turner, have you been given a copy of the evidence and Hotch’s accounts of the attack?”

“I haven’t received any updates to the case files since Hotch has been out of the office,” you admitted, trying not to take the oversight personally.

“There’s an easy solution and she likes unicorns.” Prentiss smiled without teeth. “Walk with me?”

You fell into step with the raven haired beauty. “Thanks, I didn’t want to barge in, but I want to help. Especially--”

“Since its Hotch?” Her voice wasn’t condescending, it was almost curious. Her wise eyes held a kindness in them, one that you didn’t instinctively turn away from. “Look, we all want to get the bastard, but the others, they sort of circle the wagons when a profiler is down.”

“The strength of the wolf is the pack.” You recited a bit of Kipling.

“Pretty much. I might still be the novice profiler, but I’m not going to turn away an extra brain.” You smiled, appreciating her pragmatism. “Hey, Garcia-”

Prentiss got you squared away with all of the new details and listed on the BAU’s latest communication list with Strauss and the Boston PD. If there was anything more than a blip about Foyet, you’d be one of the first to be alerted. It was time to be a team player.

He woke you by nuzzling your elbow, his nose trailing up your arm as his strong hands found your backside and drew it to him. His breath was warm in the crisp night air, your body melding to his, you clutched his hand in yours, holding it to your heart.

“About time.” You mumbled, letting his huff of amusement fall against your hair. There was something oddly comforting about him lying beside you, his murderous hands stroking your body while at any moment he could end you. Sleeping with George was like sleeping with a boa constrictor, the pressure hurt so good, until you couldn’t take it anymore. Before long you were both asleep, relaxing in the fake safety of your circumstances.

It was just before dawn when he started with the questions, each one pulling you closer to consciousness until his voice was desperate.

“Y/N, are fucking Hotchner?!” It was a strangled plea. You sat up blinking, staring at George as if he was a figure from a dream come to life.

“What’s going on? What are you talking about?” Your heart banged against your chest, the shock of being woken and accused in the same instant adding to the adrenaline. He stood over your bed, dangling your work phone above your face like the proverbial carrot on a stick.

“Lots of calls for someone on medical leave... look here a winky emoticon.”

You rolled over and hid your head in between your pillows, there was nothing he could have figured out from that phone anyway. He was jumping to conclusions and all you had to do was maintain a perfect level of annoyance before he would drop the subject entirely. You kind of hated how much you could predict his moods at this point. Narcissistic ass.

You groaned dramatically and pulled the duvet up to your chin, leaving him to stew in his search. He plopped down at your feet not ten minutes later, almost sheepishly. “Done with your little tantrum?” you asked, not bothering to open your eyes.

He had stripped in his sleep, wearing just his shorts. His tawny body hunched over as he licked his teeth at your sass. “God, there isn’t anything better than making you eat your words, Y/N.”

Your head perked up, catching his drift.

You knew he was ready to get back on that jet, ready to be the man he was before he was broken and robbed of his family. But you didn’t want him back at Headquarters, not yet. You were far from a poster child of healthy coping habits, but you could spot the anger and bitterness before it slipped from his mouth. The stress of profiling would only exacerbate the resentment, but, naturally he passed every interview and clearance exam.

He was set to start in the morning, the files and photos covered his dining table. You had only been over a handful of times, just meals and movies. You made it clear that you wouldn’t overstep and he made it clear that he wasn’t ready to be with you, yet. That strand of possibility that brought you back and kept you at arm’s length.

“Tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” You made small talk, glancing briefly at the images you had memorized.

“Has the team kept you up to date on the case?” Hotch was in his concerned teacher mode.

“There hasn’t been much to update, unless--”

“Unless he kills again.” You pursed your lips at the stalemate you both felt. “Y/N, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you and before I do, I want to assure you that this stays between us, unless it is absolutely necessary to the case.”

Your stomach fell through the floor, his tone was methodical as if he was walking you through a cognitive interview. It made your skin crawl.

“Shoot.” You tried blase.

“Were you ever going to tell me who you were?” He watched you with those tar pit eyes, waiting for you to slip up.

“I was waiting for you to remember me. We met.” You bobbed your head, “Before.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, daughter to George Foyet’s fifth and sixth victims.” Hotch recited your past stoically, as only he could. “I remember a devastated teenager telling me to do my damn job. Contacts?”

“And Botox.” You shrugged. “Where does that leave us?”

@benedictcumberbatchstolemyheart @a-unique-girls-heaven @gummiishark @rottendaisies @sunnygubler @lovebodymindstuff @archaic-zugswang @darkheartednerdwithglasses @mikri-oneiropola @princesswagger14 @justwinchesterme96 @profiler-in-training @kennybud @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @conversations-with-you-61065 @dontshootmespence @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown @cynbx @cherry-loves-fanfic @hotchnerfuckmeup @illegalcerebral @omallieallie @creativecody16 @kandii395 @tiny-potato-lives @april1535 @gabriellewritermua @daisydukes34 @fandomsxo @sonhadoraativa @nea90sweetie @mimiashton @thespaceprincess @emeliapondraggedymanfan @hgal @yellow-goddess @kindlekix @shawtygonemad @praisethetalos @fand0trash03 @sweetmurder12345 @etp666 @briannavillian @heartsaved @beingbluntlyblount @musicalglitterunicorn @burningmusicmachine @whatwhatwhat

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON NITRO’S MAIN VOCAL HA MINSOO...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Min CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 18 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 13 COMPANY: Koala.T SECONDARY SKILL: Acting

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): “Minnie Mouse” - A result of Minsoo’s startled reaction to a prank during a variety show in his rookie years. The host’s witty comment had stuck to his image. That was back when he was freshly debuted and grasping for any sort of distinction. Now it’s more of an inside joke between older fans, but he’s still the highlight to every haunted house special, and he still obediently grins and dons a minnie mouse headband at every other fansign.

“Min-ergy” - He’s the mood-maker. The man with the brightest smile. The energizing force that drives conversations forward and fills in the awkward gaps.

“White Knight” - A fairly recent one that took off following a viral video of him “saving” his music show co-host from falling down the stairs. It’s suspected the nickname began as a mocking throwaway comment by an anon, but fans were quick to seize upon it and spin it into genuine praise. INSPIRATION: When asked, his greatest inspiration is trot singer Lee Mi-Ja. He says he grew up with his grandparents listening to her 24/7. He remembers being starstruck by her stage presence and may have had a little crush on her for most of his formative years. SPECIAL TALENTS:

His eye smile

Crying on demand

Making the soda bottle opening + pouring sound with his mouth

NOTABLE FACTS:

Appeared on the TV Show ‘Star King’ as the seven year old child who loved to sing trot  

He used to be a somewhat well-known trainee at Midas, but got convinced to join Koala.T after uncertainty of his chances of debut

He is an only child, but has publicly lamented many times of this fact and has frequently restated his lifelong dream to be an older brother.

It takes him longer than most to memorize choreography, and his movements are notably more stiff than those with natural talent.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

Minsoo wants to capitalize on his viral moment. He wants to ride the momentum into landing more roles in dramas. He wants to do well in them. Really well. Well enough to make every girl in the nation dream about him as their boyfriend. Minsoo wants Nitro to win a daesang. It might be unthinkable with where they are now, but who knows? Maybe after a stint in a successful drama or two… A couple ace comebacks… Anything can happen, and Minsoo’s nothing but ambitious.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

He predicts he’ll always be typecast for roles as the lovable nice guy due to his ironclad public image. He’s fine with that. If anything, that’s what he’s hoping for. The acting industry is saturated with rising talents, idol or otherwise. Minsoo’s planning on staying around for the long haul, and he’ll do so by carving out a niche that only he can occupy. He wants to be unforgettable. He wants to build a legacy. He wants to touch the ceiling then retire, gracefully, maybe to a house somewhere with the ocean right next door.

IDOL IMAGE

As far as Koala.T is concerned, there’s no such thing as a Nitro member with a bad personality. They’re the well-behaved, hardworking, “Oppa-I-hope-you-only-walk-the-flower-road” boys who fill their fans with purpose from rooting for the underdogs.

Minsoo falls in line seamlessly.

For the longest time, his company markets him as the bubbly, slightly ditzy, mischievous type who incites equal parts mirth and exasperation from his members. His youthful features and boyish grin practically seals the deal. Variety shows documenting the group’s lives would frame him as the funny “younger brother” in need of constant monitoring but also as the emotional center of the group, a sensitive soul who reveals through tears in the customary letter-reading segment that he just wants his brothers-in-arms to be happy and successful.

It works. More importantly, it sells. Fans scramble to bulk-buy albums and help fund their idols’ biggest dreams. Minsoo cries some more and chokes out in award speeches that none of this would have been possible without their precious Gens.  

For the longest time, Minsoo’s content to play the role. Even when as the years add up, the role wraps tighter and tighter around his frame like a shirt that no longer fits, he’s fine with it. But it’s getting old. The same diamond-in-the-rough sob story loses its impact as Nitro crawls towards slow, yes, but respectable success.

So Minsoo refocuses his image.

He adjusts his actions and reactions from cute-younger-brother to charming-boy-next-door: less throwing pies and more baking pies to bring over to the next door neighbors.

An opportunity for that arrives in the form of a role as a long term host for MBC Music Premier. It there where he balances his bright stage-personality with dependable coordination into subject points and a tasteful back-and-forth dialogue with his co-host.

He painstakingly times the process to be as natural as possible, so that his fans comment on his maturity with appreciation rather than confusion.

But the transition is truly cemented when a stroke of luck lets Minsoo be a hero for a minute and have it get caught on camera. The drama-esque moment of him stopping his co-host’s fall circulates the internet and brushes the last specks of dust from his new image.

He’s never been one to waste opportunity. So Minsoo evolves. And he plans to keep on evolving.  

IDOL HISTORY

Ha Minsoo is not a genius.

His parents are working-class citizens. His dad’s a salaryman and his mom’s a piano teacher. He grew up in a quiet seaside town where the doors and windows were always open and the grandparents all knew each other and the ocean lived right next door. He grew up listening to seagulls and trot music, sounds that seemed to permeate the air like the smell of smoke and seaweed.

Ha Minsoo is not a genius.

It’s just that when his grandma boils mackerel stew and the handheld radio crackles out the same music that’s been playing on repeat in this part of the countryside, Minsoo sings along.

And when the neighbor who came over for lunch mentions that she’s got a friend whose son is a PD in Seoul, that he’s looking for cute little kids who can sing or dance in front of a camera, Minsoo doesn’t recognize the sounds out of her mouth for what they were– the axis of his world shifting just so.

Ha Minsoo is not a genius.

But wrapped in a tuxedo, hair gelled back, and oversized microphone in hand, he becomes the seven year old trot prodigy, paraded around stage and showered with praise and applause. Standing there in the bright lights of the recording studio, he feels the ground beneath his feet start to move.

His parents feel it too.

His dad finally earns his work promotion, and the raise means the Ha family can move out of the country and into an apartment in the city. That’s also when the private lessons start. High off Minsoo’s 15 minutes of fame, they pay for a vocal trainer. It’ll all be worth it, they say, when Minsoo earns himself a lucrative career in the music industry.

The hours of practice only get longer once he starts middle school. While the bell at the end of the day signals all the other students to go to cram classes, Minsoo goes straight to the vocal studio to practice until the sun sets. If he ever held promise as a student, he wasn’t given the chance to find out. On the other hand, the relentless training starts to pay off. He wins community talent festivals, small neighborhood contests, and his instructor switches him permanently to modern music. Little by little, his efforts begin to reap results.

Ha Minsoo is not a genius.

He wrestles for every minuscule amount of improvement. He works twice as hard to close the gaps where natural talent might have filled, easily. He grows from the ground up with only two advantages: an early start and an ingrained understanding to never squander an opportunity.

When a Midas scout approaches him after a competition and hands him a business card, it feels like a sign that he’s on the right track. He sweats through auditions. Flubs the dance portion. Miraculously passes. Signs the contract and finds it curious that satisfaction feels less like a buoyancy and more like a weight settling on his shoulders. He’s not done yet. The real work starts here.

His adolescence passes by in a blur of trainee activities and last minute school obligations. He becomes relatively well-known in his company for his young age, pretty face, and the hours he would spend training into the night.

It’s a little creepy, one of the staff members mutters to another. It’s like he never leaves the building.

Look at his pale skin. / Practically translucent. / Like a ghost. / Does he have any friends?  

He decides to learn how to mask his awkwardness with bravado. His irritation with kindness. He hides behind both like spear and shield. He pieces together how to talk with charisma by observing how the older trainees interact and listening into snatches of conversations.

The most popular point of discussion soon becomes rumors about Midas’ upcoming boy group. How many members? When’s the next evaluation? Who are they looking for?

Competition for the spots is violently fierce. There’s no one in the room who doesn’t want to debut. That’s why they’re here, at Midas Media, clawing and fighting to make it to the top. Minsoo gets so close, so close he can almost taste it. But in the end, he’s not enough (not old enough. not confident enough. not good enough at dancing.) Years of meticulous planning, of calculated sacrifice, of careful control crumble at his feet.

The results devastate him. Minsoo falls, hard, hits rock bottom and coughs up gravel.

He allows himself three panic attacks and two packs of cigarettes in total, (burned down to the filter without taking a drag, of course. He doesn’t need the nicotine, just the smoke that calms him).  

Then he tenses his shoulders, picks himself up, and trains with nothing but cold ambition to drive him forward. It’s the most hollow he’s ever been: propelling himself into an uncertain future with no strategy, no plan b, and no clear goal in sight.

Breakthrough comes in the form of Koala.T Music.  

The timing is perfect, with his Midas contract coming to a close and with little chance of a second boy group to be formed anytime soon. Minsoo switches companies. Koala.T is a new an unfamiliar environment, but it’s alright. He’s done this before. It’s easier to adapt this time around, and he knows now how to mold and shape his personality to be the person they need him to be.

Two more years of sweat drenched practice rooms and finally, finally he debuts.

The happily ever after is sweet but short-lived. As a rookie group, Nitro is faced with challenges almost right after the showcase stage. They now have to compete for the public’s affection with dozens of other idols all vying for the spotlight. The cut-throat competition, the ladder climbing, none of that changes. But while others might hate the pressure, Minsoo enjoys it. He savors every step forward because he believes every inch of progress is the culmination of his efforts.

He doesn’t mind the wait.

2015 seems to be the year where everything rolls into motion. Nitro’s slow and steady rise to popularity breaks into their first music show win. Minsoo even lands a supporting role in a rom-com drama by a screenwriter with a solid track history, an rare opportunity for an idol of his standing with only years of company sponsored acting training under his belt.

While it’s by no means easy, Minsoo finds that he takes to acting faster than choreography. His performance is especially aided by the fact that he’s playing a role similar to the one he already plays as Min from Nitro. Just a few extra tweaks, an adjustment here and there, and it’s essentially a different form of the same familiar mask.

The drama earns respectable ratings and the ground beneath Minsoo’s feet moves once more.

It’s just enough momentum to push forward his acting career, albeit slowly in the form of more supporting roles. But this realization comes at the same time Nitro is just beginning to gain traction, and Koala.T pushes to present the group as a united front of underdogs. A front that would break if one member begins to gain attention disproportionately to the rest, especially in a side job.

They tell him to wait, so Minsoo waits. He promotes diligently with his members and spends the rest of his time polishing his clean image and practicing his acting. He keeps his plans for the future close to his chest.

In 2018 a viral moment gives his public personality an electric boost. That combined with Nitro’s continued steady ascent gives Minsoo the agency to start setting his sights on acting again. He’s cast in an idol-driven drama, this time as a lead, and just glancing at the character description fills him with anticipation.

This year he will set his plans in motion, one by one. The real work starts now.