#i want him to shoot his lo*gunshot*

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price (Warren Chapin) scares his wife, Isabelle, by shooting her with blanks, so he can learn about fear and the "Tingler"...

Vincent Price And Patricia Cutts -

The Tingler (1959) dir. William Castle

[jujutsukgojo]

The boy in art

gangster!Sukuna x reader

Chapter Two

Summary:

Minutes later you hear screams and more gunshots. None inside though. You peek around to see a group of men shoot others. Quickly, you turn around, so you don’t see anything. You don’t want to.

Tears stream down your face. This isn’t you! You aren't cut out for this. You did not sign up for all of this!

"You know you're my girl, right?"

a/n: Not the best but oh well. i was supposed to write something for Gojo because of his birthday yet here i am with sukuna i dont own jjk tw: implied violence, vandalism, implied drug deals, etc. fast paced! ooc sukuna (oh well :)) fast paced! characters: Reader, Sukuna, OC, Nobara, mentioned Megumi and yuuji, and a little mahito (sorry)

 

 

 As you are walking to your classroom, you hear swearing. The hallway is empty and brightly lit. You are the only one here now since you decided to arrive early for class. Entering the classroom, you sit your bag down. Much to your annoyance, the noises don’t stop. Curious, you get up to go to the source. 

  In the middle of the hallway is a window. You open it to see two men talking. Everything is normal until you see what is in their hands. You gasp, causing the two men to look at you. “What are you two doing?” 

“Mind your own business.” The one with pink hair and tattoos says.  “You can’t do that here!” 

“Get inside, little girl.” The other rolls his eyes at you and leaves. “There, you happy? It’s all over now.” 

 “Whatever you do in your free time is up to you. But you cannot do this here.” 

“You own this place?” He gestures the area.

“No, I take classes here.” He pops out a cigarette and lights it. You noticed that his ears move a little when he does that. “Then why are you so pressed about it?” 

“This is my school!” He looks around at the building. “That’s your name?” 

“Why would my name be “Community College”, dumbass?” The pink haired man shrugs. “The hell I know. What is it anyway?” 

“This is a community school that offers art co-” 

“Now look who’s the dumbass, you’re just as stupid as I am. I mean your name.” He interrupts you. You bite your lip and tap your fingers.

“(Y/n). What's it to you?” You place your hands on the windowsill. He laughs and walks away. “Nothing at all. See you later.” You slam the window shut.  

It isn’t your business, yeah, but it is around you. They can say whatever about you who cares. However, you don’t want that type of shit anywhere near you. With a goal in mind, you cannot afford to be bothered with that.  

  Over-achiever, prude, rude, and whatever else they say. Let them talk. It will be you who has a good, decent, life that is secure and stable. 

“He was cute though.” You won’t ever see him again. There is nothing to hold onto. 

---

Your professor points to the stack of papers on his desk. “For those who would like to, the papers are right here to fill out. Turn them in accordingly and on time.” 

This is what you have been waiting for. Your heart is racing. Finally, you got an opportunity for an internship at the art museum. With your good grades you should be a shoo in for the position. After class, you get up and grab a paper to fill it out. Since you have some time on your hands, you fill it out right then. It is not every day that the museum allows interns.  

With the final signature of your name, you turn in the paper. Leaving the room, you exit the school with a pep in your step. Lo’ and behold, there is the pink haired guy at the corner of the street. You roll your eyes and walk past him, mentally kicking yourself for forgetting your headphones.  

“So that’s how it is?”  

You shouldn’t acknowledge him. “What do you want?” 

He hisses as if you hurt him. “You’re not going to say hello?” 

Rolling your eyes, you ask, “Why the hell would I do that for?” 

He chuckles and leans back further onto the wall. “No reason at all.” 

 Scoffing, you walk away. “Sukuna!” He yells. You turn around and ask what he meant. “That’s my name, Sukuna.” 

“I didn’t ask you.” 

“Alright then, brat.”   

You smack your lips and leave. He's bad news. As pretty as he is, he’s no good. You have all this going for you, you can’t afford to be around him. With the possible internship, your part time job, to school, you can’t be associated with him.   

  You take out the store’s keys to open the door. A little bell goes off when you do. You set your things down on the counter and open the blinds. Nobara had been here earlier, so there was not much else to do. And by the looks of things, business was slow.  

  Even though it is a small shop, you don’t want it to close. You don't really see bookstores like this anymore. Unfortunately, closure may be soon since you, Nobara, and the owner are the only workers.  

  After settling down, you flip the sign to ‘open’. Nobara didn’t finish putting the newly donated books away. Sighing, you check the books and push the small cart to the aisle so you can put them away.  

You hum a light tune until the bell dings. “Welcome!”  

Pushing the cart to the front, you greet the person with a smile. They tell you what they’re looking for in exchange for the bag full of classic books they give you. As mandatory, you study the books for any rips, stains, writings, drawings, and other signs of wear that would make the book ineligible to be donated.  

  Only three of them passed.  

  “Alright, you have a credit of five. You can use it now or later.” They frown. “I just gave you a shit ton of books?” 

“Yeah, but other than these three, the rest are too messed up for us to take.” Please, don’t argue. 

And of course, your prayers go unanswered as they begin to raise their voice at you. “Stop yelling. Please understand that these books here,” You push them towards the owner. “Are in terrible condition. I cannot take them.” 

  They really are. A giant coffee stain in one, a ripped page in another, and one of the covers are barely together. The three that passed inspection barely made the cut. They will have to be half price. 

“I’ll take my business elsewhere then.” Tired of them, you push the three towards them as well. “Here. Please go.” 

 They huff and shove all their books into the plastic bag. Grouching and complaining, they slam the door open and leave.  

It isn’t every day that this happens but lately it is becoming common. Ever since summer vacation is over, there have been a few students here and there looking for books. Mainly, textbooks. Unfortunately, not many people donate them. Even if they did, many schools tend to switch books frequently, which makes textbooks age like milk and practically useless.  

  Still, donations would be nice to those who still need those editions.  

  Rubbing your hands together, you put on a pot of coffee. If you are going to have to deal with customers, you should at least have a pot or so.  

The bell dings again. Your day is ruined by that one worm, so you don’t smile. Dramatic? Yes. Do you care? No. 

  The customer walks to one of the aisles and begins to search. You'll be of assistance if they need help. The pot of coffee is not brewing fast enough. It is about halfway done by the time the customer comes to the front. You face the customer and don’t quite know what to expect when it is that one pink haired guy from before.  

  “You stalking me, sweets?”  

“No, I work here! You are stalking me.”  

“If you say so.” He places the book on the counter. Quickly, you check it out, not wanting to talk to him more than you have to. “Hey, why are you so rude?” 

“I’m not rude.” You say in a matter of fact-tone. “Yeah, you are. I’ve been nice to you all day and you’ve been so snooty.”  

“I am not snooty.”  You cross your arms and frown. It is the condescending feeling he’s giving, and the fact that he thinks he knows you so well.  

No one knows you better than you.  

“What do you call all that then?” 

“Goal oriented.” He hums and runs his tongue along his teeth. “What are your goals?” 

You begin to check out his books. “Art. You?” 

You don’t tell him the ultimate goal, of course. And like almost every person in your predicament, it’s stability, security. You're tired of the unknown and the possibility of losing everything. Tired of caring for everyone and everything else because of someone else’s irresponsibility. 

You want to live and do it for yourself. 

 “Normal stuff.”  

You look up at him with an eyebrow raised. “ It'll be ten fifty, please.” 

He hands it to you in cash. His book is placed in the store’s bag. Before he can leave, you shoot him a question. “You don’t read, do you?” 

“Not much.” He leaves you. 

----

After meeting him, you end up seeing a lot of Sukuna. He comes by the store every day to bother you, teases you, and walks you to school. Lately you’ve noticed the crime rate going up, but not a single crime is near you. For a bit, the owner was scared for the shop. Fortunately, nothing has happened. Nobara, of course, is suspicious but you can’t blame her.   

  Out and about with Sukuna, you reveal that you take care of your baby sister. Even though Sukuna has become a constant in your life, you are still leery about them meeting. “You understand, right?” 

He carries the items you intend to buy. “Yeah, I’d be freaked if you were too eager.” 

“It’s just the damn crime rate’s up and we just met-” 

“And here we are.” 

“Shut up. Anyway, I’m being cautious.” Sukuna chuckles. “I know. You don’t have to explain,” 

  You smile at him. Talking to him is so refreshing. There isn’t pressure and you don’t have to watch what you say. The two of you come together so naturally.  

   “What do you know about the crime rates anyway?” You pick up a candle and smell it first, then have him smell it. Sukuna hums and gives you a slight, ‘gimme’. You place a candle in his large hand.  

“I know that they’re becoming more frequent. Way more violent, too. Not much as robbing as it is assaults and murder and drugs.” 

“Murder?” 

  “Yep. Just the other day, a guy was in an ‘accident’ and what did they find? A message carved on his stomach or something. It's crazy!” It was on the news. The accident is believed to be staged, obviously. You found out about it at work. Nobara and you of course had your theories and assumptions on what the message could have been and who the culprit was.

   “Well, don’t worry about all of that, alright? You're fine.” You side eye him as you put your items on the belt to check out. Immediately, he cuts in front of you to pay. “You don’t have to...” 

“I’m doing it anyway.” 

    Most of it is for your sister anyway. A coloring book and crayons, some fruit snacks, a toy that she’s been wanting for months, and a cheap pair of sneakers. The candle was something on sale that you picked up on a whim. 

  “Sukuna, you don’t have to. I'm serious.” 

He carries the bags. “Always this stubborn? You can’t even accept help?” 

“I’m used to doing it all.” You awkwardly laugh as guilt settles in your gut. It makes you so uncomfortable knowing someone else bought your sister’s things. You have been taking care of her for so long, it’s weird. 

   He stares at her little shoes. “You need to relax, sweets.” After noticing that you are still uncomfortable, he adds, “I enjoy it. Let me take care of you.” 

Your head is down so he can’t see how wide your eyes have gotten. The last time someone took care of you, you were a child and your sibling wasn’t thought of. Now, Sukuna, someone you met not long ago, wants to?  

After all these years, you don’t know how to handle that. 

You find yourself at another store trying on the cheapest shoes there. Sukuna comes up to you with an adorable pair of kid shoes. “What size shoe do you think I wear?” 

“They’re not for you, dumbass. They’re for the kid.”  

“She already has a pair, remember?” 

He rolls his eyes. “And now she has two. And these are better.” You sigh, giving up on explaining that she’ll grow out of them in no time.  

  “Here, put these on.” You sigh as he gently places a heel on your foot. It's black and with the finest leather and comes to a delicate point. “What am I going to wear this for?” 

Sukuna buckles the straps on your ankle. “For me.” You scowl at his smirk and laughter at your expense. “Here, look,”  

He has you stand in front of a mirror. “See how good you look?” You hum in response. They're pretty and make you feel pretty. You find them to be a pair that’ll fit for different occasions. “What’s not to like, sweets?” 

  You suck in your lips. “You’re right, fine. I do look good in them.” You would have been able to keep that mindset had you not seen the price point. “They’re hideous, put them back.” 

  “They’re yours.” 

“I can’t afford them.” He has already done too much. Sukuna rolls his eyes at you. “I can.” 

All the pairs of shoes ring up to a ridiculous amount. You can’t even look at it or Sukuna. He grabs your chin. “Stop it.”  

No matter what, the feeling of guilt and unease is too strong to just ignore. 

The next time you see Sukuna, you are at a park during your lunch break. In your bag are art supplies that you thought of bringing in case you got bored. Now, it is just up to finding what to draw.  

“Sweets, what’re you doing out here?” You shrug your shoulders. He sighs and sits down next to you on the grass. “Why are you still mad?” 

“I’m not mad. I'm just not used to it. I'm always the one taking care of things and you pop up taking my responsibility away...I don’t like it.” 

He plucks the blades of grass. “I will only say this once. So, fucking listen," He takes a deep breath and mumbles, "I’m sorry. I wanted to do something for you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

  “You didn’t hurt me, Sukuna. You couldn’t.” Sukuna looks at the birds in the sky flying freely. In the silence between you two, you take it. With each stroke Sukuna manifests on the paper. The essence of peace and security is slowly being captured on the canvas.  

“What’re you doing you little brat?” He takes a peek at it. It is a rough version of him. It captures the serenity and beauty of him, though. “Hm.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“Hm.” Is all he says with the slightest curve of his lips and tiniest hint of pink on his cheeks. Although this is also picturesque, you’ll keep this part of Sukuna for yourself. For your blessed eyes only. 

  Soon, the rough portrait is done. You are so focused on it, you don’t see the softness in his eyes, but you do feel the roughness of his calloused fingertips as they caress your face in adoration. 

------

“(Y/n), I'm just saying I saw him there. Not that he did anything!” Nobara exclaims after sipping her overly sweet coffee. 

“Well, it sounds like it.” The two of you have been going back and forth for about thirty minutes because Nobara saw Sukuna standing and acting suspiciously. And, well, doing what you thought he did when you first met him. 

Not that you’d admit it. 

“Damn it, Nobara. What were you doing there anyway?” You ask as you pour yourself a cup of strong coffee. You need something to distract you. Anything to deflect this.  

  “Don’t do that. I was passing by to go to the fucking station. He was out in the open.” After a moment or two of complete silence, she breathes. “I want you to be safe and know what you’re getting into.” 

  Immediately you scoff. 

  “You act like he’s some dangerous criminal ready to chop me up into little pieces. Would a criminal tuck my sister into bed? Or let me read to him? Keep my paintings and support me? Protect me? Or-” 

“Oh my God. I’m not saying he isn’t sweet to you. I am just telling you what I saw!” 

“Am I interrupting?” Both of you turn around to see a tall man stand there with his eyebrows raised. You suck in your lips and shake your head no. Nobara recovers quicker than you and smiles at the man.  

 “No, no, no! Just a tiff among friends. Y'know, friends who look out for each other and recognize danger.” 

Your eye twitches but you don’t retaliate. Not when there is a much needed customer.  

   “Have a look around! Let us know if you need anything.” You put on a smile for the man. He nods and looks around. There is something off about him. At first, you think the cold aura is in your head, but Nobara sticks close to you with the same thing in mind. 

He's dangerous. Something is wrong. 

What is he doing here? No way is he actually looking for a book. All he’s doing is looking at the walls and pretending to skim the novels. Nobara grabs your hand and squeezes. She's shaking and he hasn’t even done anything remotely threatening. 

Maybe it is the way he moves. Gracefully, like a ghost. Or the muscles that form his body that his shirt struggles to contain. It doesn’t look like he has a weapon on him. Perhaps it isn’t needed. 

  What is this heaviness around him? The chill you get when he turns the corner of every shelf. How he looks at you with a curious and studying gaze. Is this bloodlust? The hair on your arms is raised. Nobara, who isn’t afraid of anything or anyone, is scared. 

  “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for, sir?” You are pinching your thigh to keep a steady voice. “No.” 

  He grabs a random book that he didn’t even look at and places it on the counter. The nameless man says nothing when you ring it up. He pays with crinkled up cash and a wink in Nobara’s direction. 

   Once he leaves, she runs to the door and locks it. “Did you see what he did?!” 

“What?” 

She groans and explains that he checked out the store to rob it. “Why would he rob it? A bookstore of all places?” 

  “I don’t know...but tell me you weren’t scared!” You cannot deny it. There's something wrong. 

  Nobara goes out with Megumi and Yuuji to lunch immediately after. She makes you swear to lock the door and not let anyone in until she comes back. Lately, the usual busy time isn’t until another hour anyway, so it’s an easy promise. 

   You’re putting on another pot of coffee when the first shot happens. The bullet goes right through the pot that you’re holding and shatters the glass. A scream is caught in your throat. More bullets come through barely missing you. You duck and see the store’s merchandise suffer from the insanity.  

You grab your phone and in a state of panic, call Sukuna and tell him everything. He can hear the glass and the wicked noise.  

“Stay down, and crawl to the back hallway. I'll handle it.”  

It was the hallway the man didn’t see.  

  You do as he says and wonder if you should call the authorities. Maybe Sukuna will. You don’t know why you called him instead of the police. It was just a quick reaction. 

Minutes later you hear screams and more gunshots. None inside though. You peek around to see a group of men shoot others. Quickly, you turn around, so you don’t see anything. You don’t want to.  

Tears stream down your face. This isn’t you! You aren't cut out for this. You did not sign up for all of this. 

And yet, you don’t want to look outside and see what is happening. 

The police did come after Sukuna came in through the backdoor. He told you that the bad men were gone and for you to tell the cops that the shop was attacked and that you hid the entire time. You did as you were told. 

  Who they were, why they were there, what could have happened to them? You don’t know. You were hiding. 

  The shop keeper was furious but grateful for your safety. Nobara, too. But she knows better.  

-----

“What’d you doing now, brat?” Sukuna likes to bother you at work, home, and especially at the museum now that you got accepted as an intern. “Working!” 

  “That’s too heavy for you.” He grabs it. “Where do I put it?”  

“Here.” You gently guide him on where to put the sign. After, he decides to stick around and help you with the heavy things. Of course, you watch as his arms flex whenever he picks something up.  

   “Hey, Sukuna,” you start. The two of you are alone right now with nothing but the art witnessing the conversation.  

“What are we doing?” 

  He stops and furrows his brows. “What?” 

“Like, what are we?” Do you really want to know his answer? Then again, the rejection will make it easier to let go, you think. Or maybe you want him to release you? To push you away so you don’t have to think about that night anymore. 

  He comes up to you from behind. Sukuna's arms wrap around you and his chin rests on your shoulder. “I’d like for you to be mine.” 

  You scoff and try to step on his toes. Playfully, Sukuna bites your ear, causing you to shriek and laugh.  

“If you two are done now-” 

 You jump at the sound of your boss. “Sorry!” You grab your boyfriend’s hand and rush past her.  

Boyfriend...wow. 

-----

  

 You tuck your little sibling into the bed. After reading their favorite book in the character’s voices, she went fast asleep. Sukuna wished her a goodnight on the phone, too. The smile she had on her face was picture worthy. She seems to like him a lot. 

  Although, you couldn’t tell her the truth as to why he wasn’t there in person. So, telling her that he was just at work sufficed. 

   After putting away her new shoes and the dinner dishes, you rest on the couch. The museum has a big showing tomorrow. All the lifting and organizing took a lot out of you. However, you are excited more than anything. He doesn’t know it yet, but your drawing of him got a place in the local’s art section. 

   Right as you close your eyes, your phone rings. “Hello?” 

“Come to the museum, right now.” Your boss demands before she hangs up. Her tone gave you pause. Not because of how rude it was, but because of how stressed and worried. 

   Quickly, you put your sister’s shoes on and wrap her up in her blanket. Unfortunately, you don’t have anyone to watch her. Your mother is as useless as your father is.  

   “Where are we going?” She sleepily asks. “Sh, go back to sleep.” Immediately, she does.  

  Besides, you aren’t sure if you really want her to be awake during this. 

- 

 

Your breath is taken away at the sight. Flashing colors of the police cars illuminated the night. Everything you worked at was completely destroyed. The museum walls, the art, and most specifically, Sukuna’s portrait, are ruined. 

   Your boss is tapping her foot as she is lost in thought. Suddenly, she notices you. “There you ar-” She stops when she sees the bundle you are carrying. 

“I didn’t have a babysitter.” 

She takes a deep breath. “Look around. Do you see all of this? The museum is totaled.” 

“I see that, ma’am.” She walks to you. “Your boyfriend’s picture in particular suffered.” She stops walking. “I need to know. Are you involved in this?” 

  “No! Not at all!”  

“I won’t press charges on you. But I do need honesty.” Your eyes are wide. “I am serious! I really don’t know!” 

You pray that she can hear the sincerity in your voice. 

 She sighs. “Ok, I believe you had nothing to do with it.” She looks down before she continues. “But I do not believe that you are ignorant as to why it happened. (Y/n), I’m going to have to terminate the internship.” 

Your breath is caught in your throat. “F-for what?! I didn’t do anything!” 

“You are a smart girl. You need to choose who you are around better.” She leaves you in the street, surrounded by darkness. 

Your arms begin to get tired from your sister’s weight.  

“Lord, I am so tired...” You whisper in the night. 

  After this, you didn’t get another internship. Not with Sukuna’s mark on you. 

-----

You go to the park a few days later so your sister can play with the other kids. She wanted to call Sukuna and ask him to come. He never showed up even though he said he would. 

By the time dusk broke, you packed everything and went home to think. 

  After the museum incident, you got blacklisted by other museums around the city. Even private artists avoid you. Your professor, naturally, heard of the incident and lectured you about safety and how you should not have taken the internship for granted.  

It spread like wildfire. Your boss at the bookshop had a talk with you as well. Wanting to know if Sukuna was connected with the vandalism at the shop. You told him you didn’t know and that it was possible. He decided to let you keep your job, but you are on leave. 

Nobara filled the room with ‘I-told-you-so's. Though she stopped when she saw your vacant expression. 

  Everything you worked for is crumbling around you. At least Sukuna is looking for the bastard who did it, right? 

Sukuna kisses your cheek when he walks in. It's late and your little sister is already in bed. “I’m here. Sorry I'm late.” He settles down next to you, grabbing your hand and kisses it.  

“Sukuna, we have to talk.”  

“Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again. There was just a little hitch.” You shake your head. “I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about it, either.” You reply quickly with a snappish tone. 

  He looks confused at first then his face settles in a raised eyebrow. “Look, Sukuna, I can’t continue to endanger my sister and I anymore.” 

  Sukuna sighs. “You won’t be. I took care of it.” 

“I’m blacklisted and almost got fired. My boss is watching me tread on thin ice. I can’t lose my job or anything else.” 

  He says nothing but stares at you. “I think we should break up.” 

Pain shoots through your heart as the words exit your trembling mouth. You really, really, like him. Maybe even love him. “No.” 

  “Sukuna-” 

“I said no.” 

“That’s not how it works. I can’t keep doing this. I'm losing everything because of you.” 

“Me? You think I did all of this?”  

“No! You are connected to it! Everything all leads back to you!” 

  He grabs your face gently but firmly. “I took care of it, (Y/n). You’re safe with me.” 

“But my future isn’t!” You stand up. “I have dreams, goals, all of it! My sister does too!” 

“I’ll give you it all, for fuck’s sake!” He stands up too. 

“No, Sukuna. I'm not cut out for this life. Everything you do...it isn’t me.” 

“Thank God you’re not doing it then, huh?” You want to touch his face. To comfort him and take back everything you said. At the same time, you want to shake him into understanding.  “Sukuna, it’s over.” 

  He looks shocked. Like it is finally settling in that it is over, done. The lovely chapter is finished, and the page flipped.  

“I love you, (Y/n).” The air is sucked out of the room. Neither of you have said it before. You always thought you’d be the first one to admit it. “I love you too. God knows I do. But I am so tired.” 

  You worked so hard for it all to crash down so suddenly. Those nights of the attacks were a special breed of terrifying. You could have died that day in the bookshop. The internship is gone, your work unsalvageable. The bookshop put you on unpaid leave. 

   He walks over to you and presses his lips to yours. Despite what has just been said, you fall into it with passion. He presses his forehead to yours.  

   “You know you’re my girl, right?” You don’t say anything. “Give the kid a hug for me, will ya?” 

  He leaves. 

You cry. 

____

Two years later 

As it turns out, your gut feeling was right. The shop owner fired you when your weeklong leave was up. Nobara talks to you from time to time. You finished school quickly, too. Now, you have got a local factory job. Hell, you even sell a few art pieces here and there. It all pays decently but not enough to keep your old apartment. So, you had to get a smaller one in the less savory part of town. It’s alright as long as your head’s down.  

  You walk home with your sister in your arms. She talks about her school and her kindergarten teacher. Apparently, she does not like her and insists on calling her teacher a witch. 

  You try to pay attention but it’s hard to. Lately, your mind has been all over the place since the violence in the city has gotten a bit more frequent. From what you can tell, it is all due to one man: Sukuna Ryoumen. 

 At least, that’s what you heard. That he has gotten so big that the police won’t touch him and that this whole thing is just punishment for those who thought they could go against him. Whatever. It has nothing to do with you. 

That's what you have to remind yourself. Sukuna's dangerous. Not just to others but to you and your sister, no matter how much your sister says the opposite. That he was kind and that there was happiness. She isn't wrong about that part. But just because he showed you a part of himself, does not mean it's enough.  

 “Well, well, what do we have here?” You look up to see a man with scars on his face. Long grey hair and heterochromia add to his uniqueness.  

  “We don’t want any trouble.” You try to ease the situation and go around him. “That’s just too bad. I like the fight.” 

  “Ew.” Your sister looks at him with disgust. Just as he gets ready to take another step, you hear a deep voice from behind him. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

  “Kuna!” Your sister calls with a big smile on her face. The man steps aside enough for you to see Sukuna stand there with his hands in his pockets. He has more tattoos and is bigger now. He’s stronger and looks a lot meaner than he did when you knew him. 

  The man with the grey hair sputters. “Sukuna! Long time no see! How ya been?” 

“Ew.” Your sister says again. “Yeah, ew.” Sukuna agrees with her. Not that you don’t.  

    “I was just-” 

“Get out of my sight.” The guy doesn’t wait. He takes off down the street so fast. Something tells you he won’t get far, though. 

  Awkwardly, you say, “Thanks...”  

“You’re my girl, right?” He asks you. Your cheeks get warm at the question, but you don't answer. Not when the answer is obvious. Your sister jumps down and runs to him. Sukuna doesn’t hesitate to pick her up. He was always soft towards her. 

  “Come on, I'll take you two home.” A car pulls up, a model you can’t identify. He puts your sister inside and waits for you.  

  With a smile and warmth, you get inside. 

[piratesfromspace]

Shell-Shocked (Price x Reader)

Pairing: Reader x Price Rated: Explicit Word count: 4.8k Summary: Price and his unit have been tasked with retrieving an important asset: you. (Lots of self-indulgent hurt/comfort) Note: It's been almost a year since I posted a real fic, 2024 ended quite awfully for me with the passing of two family members and me losing my job for economic reasons. So I'm back with a classic hurt/comfort fic because that's how I cope.

Content: fem!reader, kidnapping, violence, physical torture (light), threat of noncon, hurt/comfort, sexual tensions, description of caring for wounds and burns

MASTERLIST

“Bloody hell, Kate, what is this about?” Price’s voice is even rougher than usual.

Price can’t believe what he’s hearing. He had been summoned inside Laswell’s office in the middle of the night, and it sounded important. But he wasn’t ready for the news that Graves and his Shadows had betrayed them and stormed the Los Vaqueros base. He was even less prepared to learn that the mission Laswell was tasking him with was not to capture Graves but rather to retrieve an agent.

“You heard me, there was a girl stationed with Los Vaqueros, she’s an asset of mine. Graves must have captured her when he took over the base. You need to retrieve her and bring her back to me. Unharmed.” Kate is trying her best to control the waver in her tone, but John knows her enough to understand something is wrong - terribly wrong - worse than the treason of Graves.

“Are you even sure your agent is still alive?” he asks, trying to make sense of the situation.

“I’m not sure of anything right now, but you must do everything you can to find her.” Laswell sighs and then she says something Price has only heard her say a couple times in the decade he’s known her “ Please , John”.

“Must be really important if you’re saying please �� “It’s… it’s personal.” she admits, lighting a cigarette.

John pauses for a bit, a concerned frown on his face “Wait, is it who I think it is?”

“ Please John”, she begs again, “you’re the only one I trust for this mission.” Laswell sounds so unlike her usual self, it’s unsettling to him. “What about Graves?” John inquires, anger lacing his voice when he says the name of the traitor. “I don’t give a fuck about Graves anymore. Kill him for all I care. Just bring her back.”  “Whatever the cost?” He asks, making sure Laswell understands what she’s asking of him and his team. Kate blows the smoke of her cigarette upwards before answering. “I know you’ll make the right choices.” and her words have a finality in them John doesn’t dare to challenge.

A few hours before, on Los Vaqueros base

You’re getting ready to crash in your cot after a day of training. Your hair is still damp from your shower, and you can’t wait to shed your clothes and boots for something more comfy.

The training had been rough, but as a young CIA agent, it was a rare opportunity to be able to train here with Los Vaqueros. Actually, you wouldn’t even have heard of this opportunity, if not for your aunt Kate Laswell. Your presence here was a favor to your aunt and everyday you try your best to not disappoint her or Alejandro and his men. Even if the pressure doesn’t make it easy.

You’re just about to get in your pj, when you hear clear gunshots outside. Nothing like the dulled and regular sound from the shooting range, no, it was way too loud and chaotic. There are shouts, alarms - something is wrong. When you open your door to peak into the corridor, you understand the base is under attack. You’re used to gunshots, to police swipes of drug or weapon labs, but the chaos in front of you - it immediately sends you into a state of high alert, senses overwhelmed by the bright neon lights, the overlapping sound of fighting and siren, the distant smell of smoke and tear gas, the acidic taste of stress on your tongue. 

You have to think quick, because the sound of heavy boots and gunfire is coming at you real fast. You don’t want to hide under your bed risking getting caught in the dead end of your room, and for a lack of a better option, you decide to flee. You’re glad you still have your combat boots on, pushing your already-exhausted body through the long corridor. You run for your life, until you take a hard turn and just end up face to face with a bunch of soldiers, all clad in black, clearly not Vaqueros - but rather your assailants.

You’re stunned for a few seconds, stuck in place, just as they are. One of them doesn't have a mask on - white male, dark blond hair, and an insufferable air - Philipp Graves himself. You’ve seen him already in briefing video calls, you know his reputation, and it takes you a couple seconds to understand that he’s betraying what are supposed to be his allies. His eyes grow big with the surprise of recognizing you as well. 

“Grab the girl, I want her alive!” he barks at his soldiers.

You don’t linger, start running back from where you came. Bullets are coming from everywhere and windows on your right are breaking into myriads of glass shards as you dash through the corridor. You try to focus, to conjure up the map of the building in your mind to plan an escape, but the stress of the situation is sinking its fangs into your nape, an icy feeling turning your thoughts into useless panic.

You’re a fast runner, but it’s not enough. One shadow crashes into you from behind and topples you to the floor. The shock steals the air from your lungs, and it’s a small miracle you don’t bash open your skull on the hard floor. But you’re not gonna yield just now. You squirm in his grasp, try to fight him off, aiming for the tender parts of his face, just like you learned in your self-defense classes. You manage to draw blood with a mean scratch of your nails near his eyes, but his fellow soldiers are on you before you can do more damage. Two more Shadows seize your limbs, lean their weight on you, glass shards slashing your bare skin in dozens of cuts when they force your arm and the side of your face flat against the floor. You scream - more so in anger than in pain - and the inhumane cry coming out of your mouth scares you. You didn’t know you could sound like this. 

The acrid smell of tobacco is what wakes you up. You’re fully awake in an instant, adrenaline spiking in your system the second you open your eyes and remember your situation. You must have dozed off after your capture, but now you’re faced with one of the guards blowing off the smoke of his cigarette right into your face. You cough and it’s like all your nerves have a misfire, your whole body hurts like hell. From sleeping on the hard floor with your hands bound behind your back and from the cuts all over your arms and the left side of your face. Cigarette in mouth, his colleague laughs at your pained reaction, cruel bastard . 

“Fuck you” you manage to utter out between two coughing fits. The first guard is unimpressed, he just laughs, but his colleague makes a crude joke about teaching you a lesson or two while he grabs his crotch in an unambiguous threat, punctuating his sentence by a few kicks in your legs. It’s far from the first time a man has made this type of comment, and in a rageful reaction, you retaliate by trying to kick him back. You know you made a mistake when he easily grabs your ankle, pushes your pants back up your leg, removes the cigarette from his lips and brings the glowing head right to the fragile skin of your shin. The burn fucking hurts. You scream, and trash against his hold. It’s no use and he has the time to inflict a second burn, before the whole commotion attracts the attention of the rest of the room - including Graves himself.

He’s visibly not very happy to stop the fight and to remind his guards that he needs you untouched for now. He also orders them to allow you a trip to the bathroom and to give you some water. What a gentleman - you want to taunt him and be all cynical, but you’re also scared he will withdraw his little crumb of a peace offering. 

You’d be so easy to break, you realize bluntly. If Graves decided he wanted to ask a few questions about your aunt, you’d be fucked. A dash of torture, the promise of a glass of water, and you would spill the beans. You don’t know much about Laswell’s missions, but you know where she lives, the name of her wife, you know one alias or two. You could probably guess a few of her passwords. Fuck , you think you’re all tough and shit, promising CIA agent sent to train with some badass men, ready to take on the bad guys all over the world - that’s bullshit . Nothing can prepare you for the real deal.

You could keep wallowing about how bad you’d be at resisting interrogation, but you settle for trying to understand whatever the fuck Graves thinks he’s doing here.

“Why are you doing this Graves?” you ask, voice raw and on edge. “That’s none of your business darling” he answers, insufferable swaggers on, no matter that it's probably 5am by now. “Then release me. You must know who I am, otherwise I’d be dead by now, so you also know it can’t end well for you to keep me here like this.” you plead. “I’ll take my chances” he concludes with a smirk, leaving you to the surveillance of the two cruel Shadows.

After this, you can’t fall asleep again. No matter how exhausted you still feel, your anxiety is through the roof, and your whole body is vibrating with it - the pain not helping. It’s still dark outside, even though dawn is just minutes away.That’s when you start hearing gunshots all over again. Everything is turning into chaos, but it seems this chaos is the result of someone coming to take the base back.

Graves is yelling orders to his shadows, the sound of grenades coming off is getting closer and closer, and you try to think of a plan. The sudden shot of adrenaline at the prospect of a rescue mission on the way makes you bold. Maybe you can turn this diversion into the opportunity to flee? Your train of thoughts is cut short when one of the Shadows grabs you by the arm, massive gloved hand yanking you up, leaving mean bruises in its wake. You scream to let you go, but the giant is deaf to your protests and he drags you across the room, following Graves and a couple more soldiers into the stairs.

You quickly understand their plan is to reach the roof so they can fly away from this clusterfuck safely tucked into their helicopter. And apparently you’re supposed to come with them. As a literal human shield and as a guarantee the assailants won’t shoot their heli down and risk your life. And who knows what they’ll do to you once they successfully leave this place. No matter what you can think of, one thing is for sure: it’s not gonna be pretty and whatever it takes, you can’t board this helicopter.

Floor after floor, your little group is closing on their exfil point way too quickly. You keep screaming, trashing with all your strength against the grip of the Shadow holding you. With one vicious kick, you almost got free, but the Shadow has enough of your fighting. With nothing more than an exasperated grunt, he hauls you up on his large shoulder like you were a naughty child, tightly securing your legs against him, holding you with so much pressure, you’re afraid he’s gonna break a bone. You see black spots for a few seconds, head dizzy with the sudden move and all your blood rushing to your skull.

All your screams and squirming are not stopping your captor in its track, and you reach the final floor. You remember its layout: a few desks and shelves are scattered through the open plan. And on the other side of it: a flight of narrow stairs going to the roof. Graves yells to the group to hurry up and starts sprinting through the floor. The man carrying you follows, his shoulder digging painfully into your stomach with each of his heavy steps. It’s only a matter of minutes before you all will finally board this helicopter. If you can’t escape right now, it’s gonna be too late. But you won’t go down without a fight. It’s frantic and probably a little pathetic the way you fight back against the grip of steel on your legs. You throw everything you got into it. The last scraps of your energy burning in your desperate attempt to break free - to no avail. 

You’re halfway through the floor when the terrifying whizz of bullets come from behind you. Shadows drop dead around you.You raise your head up at the best of your ability, and spot a few soldiers coming after you. Their gear looks familiar. American-issued helmets. Boots you recognize. Allies. Allies are here, but for now, they are also shooting at enemies dangerously close to you.

The guard holding you doesn’t falter, heading even more rapidly towards the stairs to the roof. More bullets are grazing you both and some Shadows are returning fire. You feel more helpless than ever, not a single inch of protective gear on your body, just your thin skin, already slashed and bloody. Gunshots and screams fill the air. The soldier holding you turns to face the opponents. You momentarily lose sight of your saviors, your hearing now the only way of knowing what is happening behind you. That’s when the sound of a shot is perfectly timed with the recoil of your captor, who falls to his knees with a grunt of pain. 

Hit . He’s been hit . 

His grasp on you grows weak, his balance undermined by your dead weight. And now that you’re closer to the ground, you don’t hesitate, roll yourself violently on the side, and fall hard on the floor. Free, at last . Not for long though, because after a moment of pause, another round echoes in the air and the giant Shadow falls down for good, his limp body crushing you under him, pushing the air out of your lungs. Everything goes fuzzy around you for a moment as statics fill your ears.

Are you dead? That’s what you think until you hear the noise of the room again, the screams of Graves and his men as they flee to the roof and leave you there. You can hear the low rumble from the heli starting up, and then the hurried steps of the men who shot your captor growing louder as they got closer to you.

Panic grows when you realize you’re now trapped under the heavy dead body of the guard, your wrists still tied, his warm blood drenching your clothes, in a disgusting tepid embrace. You gasp for air, breathing made difficult by the weight pressing you down. Until someone carefully lifts the body of the dead guard from you. That’s when you finally see your savior. Striking blue eyes, straight nose, and a thick beard covering a square jaw. You… know him somehow?  

“John?!” you whisper, too stunned to address him by his rank or family name like you’re supposed to - you’re not even sure it’s him and you’re not just being delirious.  “Careful, dear.” he crouches next to you, promptly cutting the zip ties with his knife. You can’t believe it, but in front of you is John Price. You spent a couple months with him a few years ago when you shared a training facility. He taught you a few tricks back then, became your sparring partner and a friendly face you were always happy to see. Well, now even more than ever. “Are you hurt? Can you stand?” he asks as he helps you sit up, eyes scanning your body, methodical, efficient, just like he used to be. You don’t understand why he’s losing time helping you, the traitor is fleeing just a few stairs away, you’re definitely not a priority.

“Graves, he’s gonna to escape, you need to go after him…” you wheeze between two coughs. Your protest is cut short by his answer. “I’m not here for Graves.” “Then, what are you…” the question dies on your lips when the realization sinks in. There are 3 other men with him you notice, taking defensive positions around you. Price is already getting body armor out of his backpack, and starts securing it on your chest. Orders are being given to his men, his voice soft but assured, confident. You understand now. He’s not here for Graves. He’s here for you .

You let him work the straps without any fuss, still light-headed from it all: the bullets that grazed at you, the pain from your numerous cuts and bruises, the tiredness, the lack of food, the sticky blood from the dead guard coating your clothes. The rest of it is a bit of a blur. You’re slowly feeling yourself getting into some sort of shock. You only register the sound of Graves’ heli flying away, and then being escorted out of the building, Price holding you upright while the rest of his squad opens the way for you. You’re finally hauled into a jeep, and you’re on the road just as the sun rises, sky bathed in oranges and pinks, peaceful and oblivious to the massacre you just escaped.

You can’t say how long the ride was before you parked in front of a random farm - a safehouse John provides. The place looks old but clean enough, the kitchen you’re ushered into definitely more inviting than the room you spent the night in.

You want to ask a million questions to John, but you settle for a very simple what is the plan now? His familiar low voice is a blessing after all the noise of the battlefield, but you can sense the worry in his tone.

“We have an exfil plan for you, but right now we need to focus on keeping you alive, yeah? Can’t have you die from septic shock or Laswell will have my head.” 

You wince when he removes the body armor from your chest, revealing your blood-drenched tank top. Price orders you to sit on a wooden chair, as he carefully cleans his hands in the kitchen sink. He drags a stool to sit next to you, and gives a glance to the rest of his team that conveys in a silent request that they leave you both alone. You’re oddly grateful for that, because you could sense your growing unease at being under the watchful gazes of the 3 other unknown soldiers. Especially the black-clad giant with a literal skull mask who looks a little bit too much like a Death allegory for your peace of mind.

“Let me see” Price finally asks and he takes hold of your wrist to turn your arm a little bit, trying his best to assess the damage under the grime and the caked blood - yours and the one from your captor. His touch is firm but gentle, his fingers dry and warm against your sticky skin. You’re mesmerized for a second by the sheer size of his hands, closing so easily around your whole wrists, dwarfing your own, holding your whole head when he checks you for concussion  - you had forgotten how much space his body is taking. 

He takes some time prodding at your skull before he hums, satisfied by your encouraging answers, and turns his attention to your injured arm. He pours the contents of his water bottle on your upper arm, and the feeling of the cold water is soothing until it awakens the numerous cuts from the broken glass, making some of the tiny wounds bleed again. Bright red streaks mixing with the dark crimson in a gory painting. Price tries his best to clean them with a pad of cotton dipped in antiseptic, the sting of it making you hiss between gritted teeth.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, but I can see a couple of glass shards still in your arm.” the captain states clinically “I’m sorry, darling, it’s gonna hurt a bit.” he adds more softly, apologetic.  You flinch when he brings the thin tweezers he fished out of his medkit near one of the most painful cuts. “Easy, girl, stay still.” He commands although there is no anger in his words. “I’ll be gentle.”

You’re pretty sure you’ve already known worse pain - but it was different. Minor medical issues or training injuries that had nothing to do with being thrown on the ground in a sea of broken glass by real enemies before being tied down for a whole night and thrown over a shoulder like a vulgar sack. It’s… a lot. And now that you’re somewhat safe, with the release of the pressure comes the release of all the fear and pain that were dulled by the adrenaline and the stress. 

You’re shaking by the time Price has disinfected every wound and removed all the shards from your arm - almost a dozen of them, tiny cristales leaving red drops on the white porcelain of the plate he drops them on.

“Good, you’re doing good, breathe for me love.” he encourages, his voice low and soothing. “I just need to bandage your arm now”. 

He wraps gauze around your arm in small sections, careful not to tighten it too much, before taping it in place. He presses the final bit of tape on the top of your hand, and gives your palm the gentlest squeeze. You respond to it immediately, and your uninjured hand settles on top of his, silently asking him to keep it on your bandaged skin. His warmth seeps through the gauze, helping less with the pain and more with the bubbling cocktail of awful emotions clawing its way through your initial defense mechanism. It reminds you of the time you spent together a couple years ago - the firm hand that brings you up from the training mattress, your fingers touching when he hands you a bottle of water, the light touches against your elbow or your hips to correct your fighting stance, never lingering more than necessary, professional and respectful, that made you crave him even more.

It reminds you of the drinks you shared on a few occasions in that lively pub next to the base. How you were dancing on the line between regular camaraderie and coy flirting when tucked against his side on those too small benches. But nothing ever happened. It’s not like he openly turned you down, more so you both did not know how to take the final step, too afraid to break something that would be impossible to mend. So you had to settle for late night reveries, your fingers between your feverish legs under your thin sheets, pretending it were his. You knew your attempt would feel nothing like his capable hands, but you still came the hardest when thinking about him.

Pain brings you back to the here and now, and your eyes find his, the light of the morning sun catching in the baby blue of his gaze. He looks older than the last time you saw him. He used to shave clean but now a thick beard styled in mutton chops covers the lower half of his face. When he smiles gently at you, the corners of his eyes wrinkle. The grizzled look talks of experience and wisdom, and he’s even more handsome than before , you think to your own surprise - the crush you hardboarded for him had been long locked away in your memory as an unrequited and hopeless thing, frivolous and naive. But here, in the shambles of your life, covered in dry blood and antiseptic, shell-shocked in this unknown kitchen, his kind hand laying on top of yours is enough to reignite the amber of your dormant love.

“Let me look at your face, dove”.

The captain is thorough, cleaning the superficial wounds there, shushing you with gentle mouth sounds when you whimper because it bloody stings, he even promises morphine once he’s done examining you. He puts a strand of hair back from your face to have a better view of your bloodied brow bone and he smooths his palm absent-mindedly over your hair, just once or twice. A reflexive attempt at comforting you like you were a frightened kitten and the intimacy of the gesture makes your heart flutter.

You thank him once he’s done with your face. He keeps busy, cleaning and putting his tools away, feigning detachment when he asks you with careful words if you’re wounded anywhere else. When you answer a weak no, he can’t help himself to finally look at you, concern written all over his face. 

“I’m good” you whisper. He wants to believe you, really, so he doesn’t push for now. Instead he stands up and calls for one of the boys - callsign Gaz - to bring some fresh clothes and some warm water for you, grumbles something about how it’s not possible to let you in those blood-drenched pants. The younger soldier sets a plastic bucket filled with steaming water, a towel and a pile of black clothing on the table next to you, and quickly leaves the room when Price gives him a glance and a nod that clearly says you can leave the lady alone now . 

John takes a few steps himself, ready to leave you to clean and change yourself, but you stop him. The fabric of your top is way too tight, stiff from the dried blood, and you’re pretty sure you’re gonna rip off half your bandages if you try to remove it on your own. Plus, the pain from your ribs and legs is starting to seriously hinder your move range.

“Okay this is embarrassing but… I think you’ll need to cut off my top” you confess, feeling the warmth of shame heat your cheeks.

The metal of the trauma shears is cold against your skin, making your breath catch in your throat - how close Price is from your body as he’s cutting open the front of your tank top is definitely not helping. He’s going slowly, concentrating on not hurting you in the process. The fabric finally parts, and reveals large bruises that extend across your ribs. More bruises appear when you shyly remove your pants to expose the skin for his examination. His eyes zero in on your shin. Amongst scratches and smaller bruises that Price recognizes for “grab mark” contusions, there are two circular wounds from the cigarette burns, their clearly defined shape unmistakable. His gaze flicks to your gray panty, also stained with blood, and suddenly he’s not so sure it’s not your own.

“What have they done to you?” his voice stays calm but you can hear the tinge of anger behind it. “I need you to tell me exactly what” he continues, the commanding tone of Captain Price replacing the soft voice of John - it’s enough to spook you. You must have flinched too visibly, because he immediately adjusts his request “It’s not an order. I- I just need to understand so I can help you, dove.” 

The word of endearment is what breaks your resistance, and you tell him what happened. How Graves’ guards found it fun to torture you for a minute - not even asking questions, just for their cruel amusement. You don’t shed a tear, you just feel a bit sick and tired - so fucking tired - and you’re shaking and everything hurt. He listens, cerulean eyes focused on your face, not straying for a single moment until you’re done. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” his voice is low, wants to be reassuring, but you can hear the underlying guilt, the part he leaves out, that he’s sorry for coming in too late, sorry for not being more aware of Graves’ allegiance .

You swallow gratefully the mix of painkillers and anxiety meds he places into your hand, before he kneels in front of you to carefully tend to the burn wounds. The meds kick in almost immediately, sticky heat dropping heavy and soothing on your limbs. You’re grateful for it, because you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t have let him touch your ankle otherwise. 

“Torture. Can’t say I’m surprised.” Ghost comments dryly, while inspecting his gun, getting ready to leave the safehouse for exfil.  “Bastard” Soap provides, his accent thick on the word, betraying his anger. “What did they ask her?” Gaz inquires, serious and focused. “Nothing. Was for the sake of it.” Price answers, and his boys are quick to pick the unusual sadness in his tone. 

They finish gearing up in silence, until they are ready to escort you to the car, where Price takes the wheel. The exfil point is a short ride away, and the moment you hear the familiar sound of a Black Hawk filling the sky, something lifts from your chest.

(please let me know what you liked, comments and reblogs are very important for writers and the community overall! Also let me know if you want a part 2?)

[aaronhotchnersworld]

aaron hotchner x bau wife reader

hurt

The unsub we’ve have been trying to find is a very smart man. We’ve been here for a week and still have nothing. Everyone’s frustrated, especially aaron. I love aaron, of course i do, im his wife. I just wish he would take a breather sometimes.

The unsub had been luring young women out of bars at night, torturing them for 3 days, then shooting them in the back of the head.

Spencer has just figured out where the unsub had been taking them, 3 abandoned building with a huge field next to it. There were all side by side meaning we had to split up.

Aaron and I had decided that it’s best if we split when getting an unsub, because we both get overprotective and we don’t want anything to affect our performance.

“reid and jareau, take the last building. y/l/n and morgan, take the second building, prentiss and i will take the first building” Hotch directed us. My last name is hotchner now, but we keep is y/l/n at work so it’s not confusing.

I feel nervous, like something bad is going to happen. Aaron noticed, as he came over and gave me a touch on the shoulder and a reassuring smile. I love Aaron so much.

Everyone quickly went to where they were supposed to be. As derek and I approached the building, I heard a noise coming from the field. “Derek I think he’s in the field” i told him. Derek agreed and radioed to aaron to tell him.

We quickly made our way down to the field, separating due to how big it was. “are you sure you’re okay if we separate?” derek asked me. I told him yes. He went left and I went right.

After about 5 minutes of going into the field, I heard a noise behind me. I quickly tried to radio “I think I hea-” but was quickly cut off when I got thrown to the ground. “you fucking bitch” he told me.

I tried to get up but then a loud gunshot rang out and I quickly realized I had just been shot in the abdomen.

The unsub quickly ran.

“Y/L/N do you copy” aaron shouted into the radio.

“Y/L/N I repeat do you copy?!” He said louder this time.

“Y/N” he shouted with fear in his voice.

I did everything I could to try and answer but I couldn’t. I can’t even imagine how scared aaron is right now. I really wish he was here.

“y/n” i heard and quickly realized it was aaron. thank god he found me. He quickly rushed over to me and screamed into his radio “I need a medic immediately, agent down, gunshot wound to the abdomen, medic now”

I looked at the love of my life as tears rolled down my cheeks. I could see the fear in his eyes. “It’s okay you’re gonna be okay” He told me. “I lo- love you aaron” I told him in fear. “I love you so much y/n you are going to be okay I promise” I began to cry more as my eye lids became heavier.

“no no no you can’t close your eyes let me see those beautiful eyes of yours”

“i’m scared”

I could see how that made him more upset. “you are going to be okay, we’re gonna grow old together and have children. You are the love of my life and I promise you it will all be okay” He told me as he put pressure on my abdomen and stroked my hair.

“tha- that” i try to say but I choke on my blood coming out of my mouth. He turns me on my side and screams “WHERE IS THE FUCKING MEDIC” I can hear the fear in his voice. “a- aaron” i say desperately. “it’s okay sweetie it’s all okay” he told me.

“i’m- im so tired” “i know sweetie i know but keep those pretty eyes open alittle longer” I can see the tears rolling down his cheeks and I so desperately want to close my eyes but I do my best not too.

We hear sirens and aaron starts screaming “WE’RE OVER HERE”

I begin to close my eyes. “no no no no please open your eyes y/n.” he cries out. you do your best to open your eyes but you can’t and the last thing you remember is him screaming for you to open your eyes.

aarons pov:

Derek has to practically drag me away from y/n as the paramedics hurry on over. “gunshot wound to the abdomen” i quickly tell them as tears run down my cheeks. “I have to go with her” i tell derek. “aaron listen to me, you are in no condition to go with her. they will take care of her but you need to listen to me, jj is going to ride with her, she’ll be okay” derek told me.

We all quickly arrive at the hospital and I am a mess. I go to the restroom and look in the mirror. I have so much blood on me. It looks like i’ve been shot. My breath catches in the back of my throat. I can’t believe. I don’t know what i’ll do if she doesn’t make it. She is the love of my life she has to be okay. “aaron you should change your clothes” I look up to see derek holding out a bag of clothes. I can tell he’s scared.

“derek, what if she dies? i- i can’t live without her she has to be okay” i say as tears roll down my cheeks.

“y/n is one of the strongest girls I have ever met, she will be okay and she has you waiting for her when she wakes up. I know she will wake up” he reassures me.

He leaves the bathroom giving me time to compose myself. I start to think about all the memories I have with y/n.

y/n joined the team 8 years ago. We started dating 6 years ago and got married 3 years ago. She is the love of my life. y/n has been there for me through everything, she is kind, smart, beautiful and my girl.

i decide to change my clothes because i have so much blood on mine. i change my clothes and try my best to wash my hands but there is still blood on them no matter how much i wash them. I punch the mirror out of frustration. I NEED her to be okay.

I walk out of the bathroom and go back to the waiting room. “y/f/n y/l/n” we hear. I quickly stand up as the doctor walks over to us. “y/n lost a lot of blood, it was touch and go for awhile but we managed to get her back. The bullet did a lot of damage. she should wake up within the next few hours but we recommend one person at a time in there so she doesn’t get overwhelmed. She will need to stay here in the hospital for about a week or two. She will need help and I highly recommend she does not stay alone.” He told us. The entire team sighs in relief knowing that y/n will be okay. They all tell me to go see her first.

“i’m her husband, she’ll be with me” I quickly told him. “Am i able to see her?” “yes you can, follow me please”

I quickly stand up and follow him to y/n’s room. “Once you take her home in about a week or two, it’s important to make sure her wound doesn’t get infected. you are going to have to change her bandage once a day, she can’t do it herself. It’ll be very painful but if you don’t do it, it could get infected. She is going to be in alot of pain and it will be hard for her to do most things. It’s important to make sure she rests and doesn’t overdo it.” He informs me.

“I’ll take care of her” I tell him. I walk into her room and the doctors leaves. A tear rolls down my cheek as I look at her. I know she is going to be okay but I don’t want her to be in pain. I pull up a chair and sit next to her. I take her hand into mine. I don’t know how long i’ve been sitting here, it might have been 5 minutes or it might have been 2 hours. I feel her squeeze my hand.

“y/n” I say softly as I stroke her hair. She squeezes my hand again. “hey hey hey y/n open your eyes my love” I tell her. She slowly opens her eyes. “hi beautiful” I tell her as a tears runs down my cheek. “aaron” she says but it comes out all raspy. “it’s okay” I say as I wipe the tears that fall from her eyes

“what happened” she asks. “we went to catch the unsub and you got shot in the abdomen” I softly told her as I stroked her hair. “I wanna go home” she cried out. “I know baby I know, you have to stay here for about a week but then we’ll go home and i’ll take care of you y/n/n” I tell her.

“I love you aaron” “I love you y/n”

“Do you want to see the rest of the team?” I softly asked her. She nods her head. I go and get the rest of the team, they are all so happy to see her awake. They all stay for about 2 hours but then we can all see how tired y/n is. They say there goodbyes and head out.

“where is jack?” she asks me

“he is staying with Jessica right now, i’ll go get him tomorrow and bring him here”

“I’d love to see him tomorrow”

“I’ll make sure he is here . You should get some rest sweetheart” I tell her softly. “i’m not tired” “I can tell when you’re lying, I know you are tired why don’t you rest those pretty little eyes of yours?”

“I want to spend time with you” I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll be right here when you wake up”

“promise?”

“I promise” I say as I kiss her forehead and stroke her hair. I watch as she slowly falls asleep.

one week later

The doctors have cleared y/n to go home today. I know how badly she wants to go home.

“Are you ready to go home?” I ask her. “yes please. can you- can you help me change into my clothes?” she asks me as she looks at the floor.

“Of course i’ll help you, don’t be ashamed” I softly tell her.

I guide her into the bathroom with her clothes in my hand. I pull the string on her gown and pull it off of her. I help her put her underwear and sweatpants on as she groans in pain. “i know sweetie i’m sorry” i tell her. I help her put her bra and sweatshirt on.

We eventually arrive home and I help her up the stairs and into the house. We make our way to the couch and I slowly help her sit down. She groans in pain.

“I’m sorry sweetie I know it hurts”

I see her eyes fill with tears as she leans into me. I give her a hug and ask her “what do you need?”

“I just need you aaron, I love you”

“I love you too” I say as I kiss her forehead. “Do you think you’re up for Jack to come back home? I’ve been having him stay with Jessica while you were in the hospital”

“i’d love for Jack to come back home”

Two hours later

It is now 8pm and Jessica has just brought Jack back over and i’m so happy to see y/n and Jack happy. I made sure to let Jack know he needs to be careful because y/n is very hurt.

“Y/N” I hear jack yell happily

“hi buddy” I hear y/n say happily. Jack gives her a hug but he makes sure to be careful. I can see how tired y/n is. “How about we watch a movie?” I say to both Jack and y/n

“YAY MOVIE” jack yells and y/n giggles. I sit on the end, y/n in the middle and Jack next to y/n. We let jack pick the movie. He picks the polar express.

About 30 minutes into the movie, I can really tell y/n is struggling to stay awake. “lean on my shoulder y/n it’s okay if you fall asleep” I whisper to her. She slowly leans her head on my shoulder and I ask her if she is in any pain, she says she isn’t.

She quickly falls asleep and I kiss her forehead. After the movie is over, y/n is still sleeping and Jack looks tired.

“Jack” I whisper

“yes daddy?”

“why don’t we get you to bed?”

“what about y/n?”

“don’t worry about her buddy, I got her”

I slowly stand up and lay y/n’s head down on the pillow. Jack gives y/n a kiss on the forehead and I smile. He really loves her. He doesn’t call her mom which I completely understand but I know he looks up to her like a mother figure.

I take Jack to bed. “I love you Jack, good night buddy” I tell him.

“Goodnight daddy I love you too”

I go back out to y/n and slowly pick her up, being extra careful. She groans in pain. “It’s okay sweetie i’m just taking you to bed”

I lay her under the covers and sit next to her. I stroke her hair and ask her “are you in pain sweetie?”

she nods her head yes as tears fill her eyes

“I’ll go get you one of your pain pills”

I quickly go get her a painkiller and a glass of water. She takes it and I get in bed with her.

“what do you need?”

“I just need you”

I slowly move over so i’m directly next to her and lay her head on my chest carefully.

“is this good?” I ask her

“it’s perfect”

“go to sleep sweetheart” I tell her. I can feel her breathing slow down as she falls asleep.

[simplyundeniable98]

without you n.s

Warnings ~ MAJOR ANGST *please do not read this if you are sensitive to any kind of loss or heartbreak*, character deaths, depression, happy ending kinda because I couldn't help myself.

Word count ~ 1.4k

"Neteyam wait! This is not smart, we do not know what the sky people have on this ship, we need to leave!" You pleaded as you grabbed ahold of your mate.

You and Neteyam had successfully managed to help poor Tuk, Tsireya, and Lo'ak escape the sky people, however, Lo'ak had convinced Neteyam to save the human boy that was somewhere on the huge ship.

It was a bad idea. You knew that. The sky people had many machines the three of you were not strong enough to bear. But Ewya forbid, Lo'ak was your brother now and if he desperately wanted to save the boy then you would help him.

"Stay behind me yawne" Neteyam whispered as he crept up closer to where Spider resided surrounded by humans. The three of you made your move pouncing on the tiny humans.

You hissed raising your bow and shooting an arrow straight through the chest of a sky demon all while using the same bow to knock another one into the water.

One by one the sky people were no match for the three Na'vis. Lo'ak elbowed the human causing him to drop his gun. Lo'ak picked it up and frantically pulled the trigger surprising himself.

"Let's go!" Neteyam called to you, Lo'ak, and Spider. You all followed and knelt behind a wall as Neteyam ripped the gun from Lo'aks hands and shooting at the sky people.

He motioned with his arm to jump off the ship as Spider and Lo'ak followed his orders and dove off the ship.

"Nete come on! We don't have much time!" You yelled pulling him along with you as you made your way off the ship.

You heard gunshots ring through your ears as you crashed into the water.

You looked over at Lo'ak and Spider cheering before turning to your mate.

You gasped at the sight of him. Blood. So much blood. He was shot.

"Lo! Neteyam's been shot!" You screamed out reaching for Neteyam and putting pressure on his wound.

The bullet had gone straight through his chest.

The moments in-between were a blur. Tsireya had managed to help you lift your mate onto the ilu and onto a rock where you had to drag him up.

You vaguely hear Lo'ak call for his father as you knelt next to Neteyam.

"Nete please don't leave me" You cried resting your hand on his cheek.

He was in pain. You could see it, feel it almost as if you were the one with a bullet hole in your chest.

"My y/n" His voice was hoarse and forced as he reached for you. He sputtered as blood began to seep out of his mouth.

By now, Jake and Neytiri arrived and were next to you as they looked down at their son. Your head was beginning to throb as the voices around you became muffled.

Neytiri's screams were coming through in waves. Not all there but enough to register.

"I want to go home" he spoke roughly as Jake tried to reassure him as much as possible.

There was nothing anyone could do at this point. Ewya had chosen his fate.

You felt a hand on your cheek as you snapped back into reality, looking down at your mate.

"I see you y/n" You let out another sob at his voice.

"Oh, Neteyam. I see you always" You spoke.

You gasped as he went rigid. His face relaxed as he let out one last ragged breath.

Oh god. There were no words to ever explain the feeling when he died. You could physically feel the bond break.

You screamed. You screamed for so long that you hadn't realized you were even doing into until Tsireya's forehead rested against yours.

"Mawey y/n, mawey" Her voice was merely a shadow at the back of your mind as you curled up next to your mate for the last time. The rest of the family had left to go finish the fight, but your fight had already been finished the moment Neteyam was laid on this rock.

You hadn't known how long you lay there with him until Lo'ak had to physically tear you away from him and carry you back to Awatulu on his ilu.

Your heart had been shattered into a million fragments that lay scattered on that rock left there with the blood that had spilled from his chest.

"I'm so sorry y/n, god I'm so sorry" You remember hearing Lo'ak whisper and feeling the ghost of a kiss on the top of your head. You winced as you fought the hurt in his voice. "It's not your fault Lo. He was so proud of you." Your voice was quiet and almost inaudible, but Lo'ak heard you and that's all that mattered.

From then on it was like being underwater. Every movement was slowed and every voice was muffled.

Neteyam had filled a hole in your heart that you didn't realize was there until it was empty.

And that hole was spreading. Spreading like a nasty wildfire that was blistering every ounce of your body, destroying everything in its wake.

The glowing forest of Pandora was dim, and the brightest of coral reefs didn't glow the same without your Neteyam.

The only emotion you felt for weeks was anger. So much anger. Anger at the sky people, at yourself for not doing enough to save him, at Ewya for taking him away, and at the boy. The stupid human boy who was alive, when your Neteyam wasn't.

The human boy knew not to come around you. For it was him who sealed the fate of Neteyam, and Ewya if you could only get ahold of him he would pay.

Jake had made sure to keep him at a distance. The anger in your now dull eyes had made the grown man shudder as you stared Spider down when he came even close to your mauri.

After anger it was nothing. Like a bottomless void. The anger had fled just as fast as it had arrived and had taken everything with it like a flood. You couldn't feel anything.

You had no appetite, no energy. All you did was sleep.

"My Jake, I am worried about y/n. I fear she does not have much longer in this state" Neytiri spoke to her husband as she glanced at you with worried eyes as you lay facing the wall of the mauri.

Jake could only nod as he swallowed down the lump in his throat.

Neytiri had been right. You could only go so long without any food or water before you had slowly began to deteriorate.

Death by heartbreak. What a beautiful way to go.

You remember being surrounded by the Sullys and the Olo'ektans family as Ronal placed a loving hand on your forehead.

"Im afraid she does not have much time." She spoke as Lo'ak turned away biting back the sob that threatened to curl up his throat.

The rest of that day consisted of all of your friends and family coming to visit. Some cried, and some just sat and talked. You barely registered that they were even there. Only humming in response and slightly nodding your head.

Hours later as Lo'ak, Kiri, Tuk, Neytiri, and Jake all surrounded you, you felt something.

For the first time in weeks you felt something.

It was her. It was Ewya.

She was so beautiful. It was like a comet. Building and building brighter until it consumed your entire being until the voices around you calling your name faded into the beautiful sounds of the forest.

Opening your eyes, you found that you were back home. In the depths of a beautiful forest, where you could smell the air that wasn't tainted with salt. You could feel the rich soil soft underneath your toes that weren't course and grainy like sand.

You were home.

"Hello, my love".

You gasped turning around to see your mate standing behind you. Healthy. Alive.

"Nete- how? How are you-" you frantically spoke as tears rushed your eyes.

He chuckled and reached for you, bringing you into his arms for the first time since that day.

"shh yawne, do not worry. We are together now. Ewya has brought us together again." He spoke softly pressing featherlight kisses all over your face kissing away the tears.

Maybe that had been the plan all along.

You should have never doubted the great mother, for she had made sure the two of you would never part again.

So the two of you stayed, together happy and healthy. So much love between the two of you due to the fear of loss.

Together for eternity.

~

~

Authors note ~ please do not hate me for this lol. but I was feeling sad and thought of this idea and couldn't help myself.

[itwoodbeprefect]

911 season 7 episode 2:

we know this man waving a gun around and shooting people is eeeeevil because he says lady captain.

mr. cruise director has the dongle! because he's eeeeevil too. or at least stupid

fjdk i was expecting them to pull a "i'm not a medical doctor" with how this guy was acting, but no, he IS a gp, it's just that for the drama we need bobby to have to tackle this alone

asshole driver: "are you important? do you matter?" fjkdfd. cool it with the existential questions, my guy

"you come at me again, i'll have your badge." "i'm not a police officer." "a- and you won't be anymore either!" smooth save! well done! also love that when chimney says he's not police we see him just turning away from giving hen a confused Look. besties!

ah, of course we need to give hen a guilt complex over a choice she makes as captain.

having a firefighter be in charge of taking care of your gunshot wound is really...... gambling with your life! ba-dum tss!

bobby answering to "are you happy?" with "yeah. yeah, i am." somewhat bafflingly had me close to tearing up. god, i love that for him.

said "nooo" out loud when machine room man followed the cable and opened the door. the poor guy did not deserve that :(

anyway, a bomb! if only starsky and hutch had been on this boat doing tense homoerotic bomb collection in weirdly long sweaty scenes, this could all have been prevented

not at ALL the point here (everything is sad and awkward in understandable ways, i'm not getting into it), but this is such a gorgeous jacket

guy who desperately wants his chips cashed out: "did we hit an iceberg or something?" fjdkfd. do you think they ever play titanic in cruise ship movie theaters, or is that a subtly banned sort of movie? also, second titanic reference in two episodes, together with the comment athena's therapist made! can we get three?

i know the wife guy trope has fallen out of favor, but. bobby is doing it very well.

SO annoying that athena doesn't pick up her phone while she's on a sinking cruise ship taking on duties that the injured captain can't perform. >:(

fdjkf i love that karen is absolutely right when she tells hen that athena and bobby's cruise is going to be totally fine and there's nothing to worry about, except this is the world of People Who Are Involved In Big Giant Emergencies Every Two Weeks, so hen, in worrying way too much, is the one who's actually right. these two episodes are just married couples with one partner WAY overreacting in a way that turns out to be Correct. if things keep going this way in a few more seasons they might start to figure out they're main characters.

now bobby is WET and still looking for his wife. the universe just doesn't want to give this man the normal sweet honeymoon he was trying to have.

"where is she?" "saving the ship." "of course she is." tired wet middle aged golden retriever man considers wishing his wife were a little less heroic: part [insert number here].

fjdkfd. hen on her hunch going straight to the 911 call center, my god.

"you wanted an activity we could do together." taking a wild guess, i'd say this wasn't on bobby's list, but at least you've got some nice mood lighting

they ARE getting me with the bobby/athena scene here. they absolutely are.

also. i can't not think about due south mountie on the bounty at least a little bit. truly impossible not to do that

fjdkfd. always nice if you're a fictional character who does terrible things and then gets a very dramatic chance to prove you're maybe also an okay person

the chief going "YOU can't find their cruise ship?" seems like a deeply correct sort of response to me

fjdjfkdjk. hen looking shocked and upset when the chief tells her that the los angeles fire department isn't responsible for actively looking for ships that haven't sent out any sign of distress and are in an area they're not responsible for in the middle of the ocean, which is also not the fire department's usual sort of thing... that's very funny, very 911.

"i really don't feel like being second-guessed right now" says hen, while following a slightly insane hunch that could cost her her job and probably deserves a little second-guessing. or one-and-a-half-guessing, at least. love you so much, hen, but the only reason this will work out is because you've got writers behind you.

fdjkfdjkfdfd. of COURSE a man had to drop onto the (very pretty!) skylight after the boat turns upside down. we can't be told about a goofy thing athena fears because it happened in a tv movie and then NOT have that pay off at the end of the next episode! wonderful, i love it, this is huge dramatic 911 nonsense at its best. <3

[beardedmrbean]

The suspect accused of killing 10 people in a mass shooting in Monterey Park, California was found dead in a van from a self-inflicted gunshot wound as law enforcement closed in on him, authorities said.

Los Angeles County Sheriff Robert Luna on Sunday identified the man as 72-year-old Huu Can Tran and said no other suspects were at large. The motive for the attack remains unknown.

The sheriff said the suspect was carrying what he described as a semi-automatic pistol with an extended magazine. A second handgun was discovered inside the van where Tran was found dead. Earlier, Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department released photos of the suspect.

Tran is accused of opening fire inside the Star Ballroom Dance Studio on Saturday night, killing 10 and wounding another 10.

Minutes later, he allegedly entered a second club – the Lai Lai club in the neighbouring city of Alhambra – but was disarmed by bystanders before anyone could get hurt. The suspect then fled the scene.

On Sunday, investigators tracked Tran down to a parking lot in Torrance where police said he shot himself inside a white van during a standoff.

Here’s what we know so far about the suspect:

Who is Huu Can Tran?

Tran was identified as the suspect behind the Monterey Park shooting by Los Angeles County Sheriff Robert Luna.

Authorities found him dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound in the white van he used to flee in after people reportedly thwarted the suspect’s attempt at a second shooting.

The suspect’s van was found about 22 miles away in Torrance, another community home to many Asian Americans.

A motive behind the attack is still not clear.

However, it has emerged that Tran frequently visited the Star Ballroom Dance Studio and met his ex-wife there two decades ago.

Tran used to give informal lessons at the dance studio, his ex-wife, who did not want to be identified, told CNN.

The two met for the first time at the popular community centre two decades ago and got married. While she said the 72-year-old was never violent to her, she added that he could be quick to anger.

The couple got divorced in 2005.

Another long-time acquaintance was quoted by CNN saying that the gunman used to be a frequent presence at the dance studio. It, however, isn’t clear when he last visited the club.

One friend, who knew Tran in the late 2000s and early 2010s when they both attended the studio, said that Tran was “hostile to a lot of people” at the club.

The friend, who did not want to be named, told CNN that the suspect often complained to him that he thought the dance instructors didn’t like him and said “evil things about him”.

At the time, Tran lived around a five-minute drive from the club and would visit it almost every night, he said.

The two friends hadn’t seen each other in years before Saturday’s shooting, he said.

Now, he said he is “totally shocked” to learn that he was allegedly responsible for the mass shooting as he voiced fears that some of his friends may be among the victims.

“I know lots of people, and if they go to Star studio, they frequent there,” he said.

Now, investigators are looking into Tran’s criminal and mental health history for clues as to what led to Saturday’s massacre.

California Representative Judy Chu said residents were “no longer in danger”.

“The community was in fear thinking that they should not go to any events because there was an active shooter,” she said.

“You are no longer in danger.”

“What was the motive for this shooter?” she said. “Did he have a mental illness? Was he a domestic violence abuser? How did he get these guns and was it through legal means or not?”

What we know about the shooting

On Saturday night, approximately seven miles east of downtown Los Angeles, visitors gathered to celebrate the Lunar New Year. The two-day festival draws tens of thousands, making it one of the largest celebrations of its kind in the region, according to the paper.

Around 10.22pm, a man entered the dance club and began shooting. Police do not know if he was targeting individuals, firing indiscriminately, or both.

Seung Won Choi, the owner a seafood restaurant across the street from the ballroom, told the Los Angeles Times that party attendees fled the building and ran into his business, warning him to close and lock his doors.

Police arrived at the scene and found that the party-goers were already fighting to escape the building.

“When officers arrived on scene, they observed numerous individuals, patrons… pouring out of the location, screaming,” officials told reporters Sunday. “The officers made entry to the location and located additional victims.”

According to Monterey Park Police Chief Scott Wiese, officers arrived at the scene within three minutes of receiving a distress call.

They found extensive carnage inside and people trying to flee through all the doors.

Ten people were killed in the attack while another 10 were also wounded but survived and were taken to hospital for treatment.

The gunman then allegedly travelled to the Lai Lai Ballroom where he was disarmed by a heroic worker.

Surveillance footage captured the terrifying moment 26-year-old Brandon Tsay, a 26-year-old coder whose family runs the Lai Lai club, bravely wrestled the gun away from Tran.

Mr Tsay told the New York Times that he was in the office off the lobby watching the ballroom when he heard the front doors swing close and a noise that sounded like metal hitting metal.

At that moment, he said he turned around to see the suspect pointing a gun at him.

Mr Tsay described the suspect as “menacing” saying: “He was looking at me and looking around, not hiding that he was trying to do harm.” The two men got into a struggle before the 26-year-old managed to disarm the gunman.

Tran fled the scene.

What we know about the standoff

A huge manhunt was launched to track down the suspect, culminating around 12 hours later with a police standoff in Torrance, about 30 miles from Monterey Park.

Witnesses at the Alhambra incident had reported seeing a white van at the scene and officers spotted Tran driving the van around Torrance on Sunday morning.

Los Angeles County Sheriff Robert Luna said at a press conference on Sunday that, as police closed in, Tran drove into a parking lot and shot himself dead.

“When officers exited their patrol vehicle to contact the occupant, they heard one gunshot coming from within the van,” the sheriff said.

SWAT teams surrounded the vehicle before approaching the van and finding Tran dead inside from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, he said.

Evidence found inside the vehicle – including a handgun – allegedly ties the 72-year-old to the shooting.

Authorities believe Tran acted alone and are not seeking anyone else in connection to the mass shooting.

[briamichellewrites]

Chester and Bria get caught outside during the Purge

“Chessy, don’t do something stupid like getting yourself killed”, Bria said.

He nodded. They had twelve hours to survive. It was kill or be killed. The New Founding Fathers called it The Purge, where all crime was legal for twelve hours – including murder. Chester and Bria were prepared with guns and ammunition. They were out on the streets of Los Angeles trying desperately to get back to Bria’s. Mike and Brad told them how stupid it was to be out that late but her car broke down. Their only option was to walk.

Everyone else had taken shelter. Where did they get the guns? He bought them before the purge started from a local gun store. Did either of them know how to shoot? No, but they were better than not being protected. The streets were quiet. Too quiet. They hoped his tattoos would make him look intimidating, even though he wasn’t.

They turned their phones off, so they wouldn’t give them away and they avoided being out in the open because that would only make them a target. Thankfully, they were both sober. Being high would not help them.

They already saw one guy getting stabbed by someone in a bloody mask. They came across a convenience store, where the manager pointed a gun at them and shouted at them in Spanish. They put their hands up and shouted they were not purging. After a moment, the manager discovered they were innocent, so he let them inside. Thank you! He closed the security gate before taking them into the back where he and the other employees were hiding.

“Thank you”, Chester said again.

“Why you outside? It’s dangerous.”

“We were on our way back to her place, but her car broke down. The only thing we could do was start walking.”

Chessy and I are hiding in a convenience store. Phoenix, Mike, Joe, Brad, and Rob all got the same text from Bria. She explained what happened and that they were safe. After spending all day in the studio, they told everyone to get home as quickly and safely as possible. It was not a time to fuck around. They all promised to keep in contact throughout the twelve hours. Bria was anxious, so Chester volunteered himself to stay with her.

Thank god! You guys stay there until it’s safe! – Mike

They would. Outside, they heard gunshots and screams. Even from behind the security door. They hated the purge because they hated murder, which most people had chosen to do. It wasn’t petty crimes but felonies. The manager offered them free food and drinks. He offered to pay because they had money, but he refused. Thank you. They quietly went back into the store and picked out some things to keep them going for twelve hours.

They then went back into their hiding place. The band were all hiding at home with makeshift weapons. Just in case they needed them. Fuck the purge! Mike had asthma as a child, which he felt coming back. Emergency medical care wouldn’t come out if he had an asthma attack. He tried calming himself down, so he could breathe. But, he was too scared and anxious.

In. Out. In. Out. Misty stayed with him. She sat on his lap. He focused his attention on her, which helped his breathing. Gradually, he felt better. He petted her and called her a good girl! Yes, she was! Thank you, human! The lights in his house were off to make it appear he wasn’t home. The sun had gone down, so it was dark outside. Their neighborhood was supposed to be safe, but he could hear cars and gunshots outside his home.

Neither he, Bria, nor the band had ever done anything worthy of being killed during the past year. They treated people with respect, paid their taxes, and didn’t owe any debt to anyone. Why would anyone want to kill them? Because they were in a very successful rock band? If they wanted to steal from them, they would give them whatever they wanted.

It was better than getting shot at. They would do whatever it took to avoid getting killed. Until the purge was over, they had food, water, cell phones, and chargers to keep them going. They could not turn any lights on. Everything would have to be done in the dark with as little noise as possible.

A group of purgers found their hiding spot in the convenience store. White supremacists. They threw everyone out and had them stand outside by a wall. Everyone did as they were told. They walked slowly in front of them. The manager and employees were all Hispanic, while Bria and Chester were white. They all begged for their lives as they separated them.

Bria had her gun in her pocket. Chester read her mind. They looked at each other and he subtly shook his head. They were outnumbered. Before they could shoot, the purgers were shot in the back of their heads. They all screamed before running away to escape. Bria was splattered with blood. Chester grabbed her hand and they both started running. When they got far enough away, he asked her what the hell she was thinking!

“I don’t know, Chessy. I don’t know.”

“Don’t be a hero, Bria. Don’t fight back. You’re covered in blood.”

He took his shirt off and handed it to her. She used it to wipe herself off as best she could. They then started walking again. It had been a few hours since they were stranded, but it felt like longer than that. They needed a new hiding spot. Where the hell were they? They were disoriented by the darkness. Finally, he recognized where they were. They were only a block away from Brad’s.

Let us in. – Chester

Brad got up from where he was hiding and slowly walked to the front door. He looked outside before quietly opening the door. Chester and Bria! He had them come inside quickly. Once they had, he closed and locked the door behind them. They then followed him upstairs to his bedroom closet. The light was on, but he stuffed clothes underneath to block it out. He also closed the bedroom blinds and curtains.

“What the hell happened? Where did you get the guns?”

“We bought them. Thank god we didn’t have to use them”, she said.

He nodded. “You guys are fucking insane! You’re both lucky you didn’t get killed!”

“It’s a fucking war zone out there. You don’t want to know the shit we saw tonight. I’m going to have fucking nightmares for the rest of my life”, Chester said.

Seven in the morning. The purge was over. Everyone checked in with each other. They were all still alive. They survived. Chester and Bria just wanted to get home, so Brad gave them rides. He reminded them to store their guns up high and with the ammo stored separately. They would do that. Get some rest. They would. Thank you.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia

[quandaryqueen]

Oops I forgot to mention it was for YJ, BTAS, Harley Quinn Riddlers with ex-spouse who is hero and sometimes old flame comes back  so he wants to kiss them just for S/O to go " No, no. We made a mistake, we're not doing it again."

Sorry for mistake, you can delete that last ask.

Don't let old flames burn ya

Edward Nygma X Reader

Ohoho, this should be fun *rubs hands together with malicious intent*

💚 Young Justice

It was... A heat of a moment.

He forgot that your relationship was over since five years ago, he still fucking loves you, and there's a certain excitement the current predicament that had him wanting to pull you in for a celebratory smooch.

"Whoa, whoa," you nervously chuckled, palm held up to stop him from leaning his head forward. "We are not repeating mistakes from ancient history, understood?"

... he's hurt, but he can't exactly fault you for thinking that way.

"Oh... Haha, yeah... I was... Um..." He awkwardly clears his throat, placing his hand at the back of his neck to avoid fidgeting in front of you.

But when he meets your gaze again, you were holding your hand up for him. Instinctively, he gives you a high five and finds himself smiling, eased from the awkward mess he has dug himself into. At least this was somewhat has the semblance of what your relationship had back then.

"Let's just stick to high fives, okay?"

💚 Batman the animated series

"Thank you for being here." Edward looks up at you with tears in his eyes.

💚 Harley Quinn

"No problem. I'm always here to help."

After finding himself pathless upon his release from Arkham, he didn't know where else to go. He didn't want to come to this, but he was just desperate. He had no place to come home to, no one to greet him, he was all alone. You were his only one, and you were the one that got away.

Caught in his longing to be welcomed in one's arms again, he leans in, but his closed eyes flew open when your finger stops him in his tracks. He looks up at you with pitiful, waterfall eyes.

"No Edward. That was the past. We are not doing that again."

"Apologies..." He swallows thickly, running the cuff oh his sleeves under his eyes. "Thank you for letting me know that I crossed a line."

"Heeeeeeeeey there--"

"Edward, are you drunk?"

"Mmmmm, don't know whatchu mean babes~"

... Yep, he's drunk. Hell , a 3 AM call is enough of a giveaway for his intoxicated state, as even he won't be much of a dick to call you at these unholy hours. But, you geared up nonetheless. Can't have a vulnerable crook who's made enemies everywhere in the middle of the night.

"Do you have anyone with you?" You asked, sitting up from your bed.

"Yeah, Jonathan. But he's gone. I don't know where the fuck he is... And where the fuck I am..."

"Okay, Edward. Can you turn on your locations for me?" You asked, shrugging on your coat.

"Of course, doll, anything for you~" he slurs and you swore you heard something in the background, probably a gunshot. The more reasons to get to him as soon as possible.

Checking on his location, you find him in a secluded destination located between alleyways of the active spots of crime. Sighing, you risked your good night sleep and stepped on the gas to get to him. Lo and behold, there he was hugging his knees to his chest by the trash bin.

"You came!" He slurred, shooting up from his seating position and wrapped his arms around your neck.

He reeks of alcohol and he's had lots of them. But you didn't bother to ask, you just wanted to get him to your car and drive him back to your place to look after him. Before you can make any step, he then tries to lean forward, with his lips puckered. You held your palm up, encasing his whole face with it.

"No Eddie, you're drunk and we're not making the same mistake again."

"... Yeah, you're probably right..."

"Let's just get to the car, okay?"

"Okay..."

He cooperates to get to your car, trying his best not to completely rely on you. Once he's strapped to his seat, he dozes off at the duration of the drive, thinking how grateful he is for you.

[geo-winchester]

Could I have Santi/Reader with the prompts 'Can you hold me?' 'I think I'm bleeding' & 'i'm not going anywhere.

CONFESSION

Prompts: 09: Can you hold me?”, 32:I think I’m bleeding, 30:I’m not going anywhere.

A/N: hi love thanks for your request! I hope you’re great and I’m sorry it took me a lot of time of doin this, hope you like this and that this was what you expect it, lots of loves 💙 if you or anyone had any requests please send me an ask!

Masterlist

250 celebration

————

You like to say that your life was as simple as you always thought it would be, but that would be a totally lie, it all start when you finish highschool you decide to join the army, after a few days of training you were assigned to a team, that’s when you meet Santiago Garcia and his friends, you remember those first months around him, everyone on the team welcome you excited except for Santiago, when you went with the group his face changed and it seems like suddenly something smell really bad or if he was able to, he avoid you every time he could, like that day he rolled his eyes every time you said something in he meeting, he always avoid your gaze and the minute the meeting was done he try to leave but you follow him.

-Santiago- you call him but he didn’t stop only making you more angry -Hey, Garcia!

-What?- he asked you angry.

-Is this some kind of game you play?- you asked.

-What are you talking about?

-you been treating me like crap, like if I was dumb and doesn’t deserve to be- you told him angry -why do you hate me, I haven’t do anything wrong, I follow the orders, I’m good with guns and fights…

-And why do you care how I feel about you?- he asked.

-Because you’re my superior, your one of the best soldiers, you and your team are legends and I want to learn from you but don’t worry I’ll asked for my change tomorrow- you said as you were to walk away but he stop you, he took you from the arm, he look at you in the eyes, you could see he was struggling with something before you could say that he kiss you, for a moment you didn’t know what to do but after a few seconds you push him -what the hell Pope…

-I’m sorry- he said you could see his frustration in his face -mierda- he said as he laugh a little -I don’t know what you do to me, I feel like there’s this part of me that really don’t want to be around you…

-Gracias por eso- you said.

-No, no lo entiendes- he said -I don’t want to be around you because I hate the fact that you don’t feel the same way I feel, but what’s the point you’re going to leave even when I told you this- he said before he start to walk away.

-Hey- you said but he ignore you -Pope- he still ignored you -

Santiago- you said as you took his arm and make you face you, you look at each other for a few seconds before you kiss him, he kiss you back at the second he realize what’s happening but you back off and slap him.

-Carajo- he said.

-What was that? You tell me how you feel and then you walk away, pero que es lo qué pasa por tu cabeza?

But before he could say anything the sounds of the gunshots start to appear, Santiago took you from the arm and put you behind his back as he tried to found out where the gunshots come from, when he found out he told you to stay close to you, you took your gun and start to shoot back, you saw everyone move you were about to run to them but you saw how Santiago fall beside you.

-Hey what’s going on?- you asked as you scan him and then you see his hand with blood.

-Mierda, I’m bleeding- he said, in a second he start to get worse.

-Hey hey hey, vamos Santiago, hang in there, this is going to be ok- he look at you and brush your cheek.

-I wish I have told you how much I like you before and asked you for a dance- you smiled but you get distracted by the sound of someone yelling.

-You have to go- you shook your head -go Yn… esto no es seguro…

-I don’t care! I’m not going anywhere! I’m not going anywhere.

-Yn please…

-No! I’m not going to leave you alone.

The next thing that Santiago remember was to wake up on a hospital bed, he could feel the pain where the bullet hit him, he try to move his hand but he couldn’t, your hand was holding his hand, at the feeling of the movement you open your eyes and smile when your see him awake.

-Hola- You said.

-Hey, how’s the rest of the team?- you giggled.

-Only you could get hurt and still be more worried about the others- he smiled -you scared the hell out of me, I was worried that I couldn’t had the chance…

-The chance of what?- he asked you when you didn’t say anything.

-To say that I like you too- you finally said -you’re amazing in what you do, except for yesterday, you let yourself get shot- you joked.

-Ha ha ha well I was just trying to protect you.

-yeah I know and thank you- you said -but as you were on surgery

I couldn’t stop thinking on what you said and i feel the same, I like you since the moment I put a foot in this camp, you’re handsome, loyal and don’t make start when you speak Spanish, that’s why i hated that you treated me that way.

-I’m sorry- he said as he took your hand and kiss is making you smile -so you like when I speak Spanish, debería de hacerlo más seguido -you rolled your eyes -when I get out of here, would you like to had a date with me?

-yes, I like that- you said -do you want me to call one of the boys?- he shook his head.

-I have everything I need in this room- you smile -Yn, i know is going to sound weird but can you hold me?

-I would but the nurse would kill me if she saw me in the bed with you- you said but the you think about it -but what’s life without danger- you said he smiled before he move and put his arms around you -Are you ok?

-Much better now.

Xxxxxxx

Tag list: @anetteaneta @writefightandflightclub @mariesackler @multifandomlife22 @wasicskosgirl @phoenixhalliwell @autumnleaves1991-blog @supernovafeather @ofstarsandvibranium @santigarcia @itspdameronthings

If you want me to add you to my taglist please let me know🙈

[unearthitaly]

Lyrics of “La Guerra di Piero”, the Italian “Blowin’ in the Wind” ( + Translation )

If you watch Italian TV, in these days you might have heard “La Guerra di Piero” (literally “Piero’s war”) by Fabrizio De Andrè, a song which is considered some sort of Italian “Blowin’ in the wind” for its pacifist themes.

The song was published in 1964 and became successful only 5 years later, in conjunction with the 1968 Protest Movement. It was inspired by the story of Francesco (Fabrizio De Andrè’s uncle), who was a concentration camp’s survivor.

The song is about Piero, a soldier at the front that, when finding himself facing the enemy, hesitates to shoot because he sees himself in the other soldier. The song underlines the fact that, most of the times, soldiers don’t kill each other due to hate or cruelty, but only in order to survive. They don’t want the war, they are sent to war.

Lyrics

Dormi sepolto in un campo di grano, non è la rosa non è il tulipano che ti fan veglia nell’ombra dei fossi, ma son mille papaveri rossi…

“lungo le sponde del mio torrente voglio che scendano i lucci argentati, non più i cadaveri dei soldati portati in braccio dalla corrente”

Così dicevi ed era inverno e come gli altri verso l’inferno te ne vai triste come chi deve, il vento ti sputa in faccia la neve.

Fermati Piero, fermati adesso, lascia che il vento ti passi un po’ addosso, dei morti in battaglia ti porti la voce. Chi diede la  vita ebbe in cambio una croce.

Ma tu non lo udisti e il tempo passava con le stagioni a passo di giava ed arrivasti a varcar la frontiera in un bel giorno di primavera

E mentre marciavi con l’anima in spalle vedesti un uomo in fondo alla valle che aveva il tuo stesso identico umore, ma la divisa di un altro colore.

Sparagli Piero, sparagli ora e dopo un colpo sparagli ancora fino a che non lo vedrai esangue cadere in terra a coprire il suo sangue

E se gli sparo in fronte o nel cuore soltanto il tempo avrà per morire, ma il tempo a me resterà per vedere vedere gli occhi di un uomo che muore

E mentre gli usi questa premura quello si volta, ti vede e ha paura ed imbraccia l’artiglieria, non ti ricambia la cortesia

Cadesti in terra senza un lamento e ti accorgesti in un solo momento che il tempo non ti sarebbe bastato a chiedere perdono per ogni peccato

Cadesti in terra senza un lamento e ti accorgesti in un solo momento che la tua vita finiva quel giorno e non ci sarebbe stato un ritorno

Ninetta mia crepare di maggio ci vuole tanto troppo coraggio, Ninetta bella dritto all’inferno, avrei preferito andarci in inverno

E mentre il grano ti stava a sentire dentro alle mani stringevi un fucile, dentro alla bocca stringevi parole, troppo gelate per sciogliersi al sole.

Translation

Sleep, buried in a wheat field, it’s not the rose, nor the tulip, that keeps watching you from the ditches, but it’s a thousand red poppies

“along the riverbanks I want to see the silver pikes, not the soldier’s s corpses carried by the current”

You used to say so, and it was winter and, as the others, sad you go toward the hell like someone who must. The wind spits the snow in your face.

Stop Piero, stop now, allow the wind to sweep you off, let it carry the voice of those who died in the battle. Those who gave life, had a cross in return.

But you didn’t hear it and time went on with the seasons at a Java’s beat and you crossed the border in a beautiful spring day

While you’re marching with a heavy heart you saw a man at the valley’s end, who had your same mood, but the uniform of another colour.

Shoot him Piero, shoot him now and after a gunshot, shoot him again until you can see him falling down to cover his own blood

And if I shoot him in the forehead or in the heart, he’ll only have time to die, but I will have time to see, to see the eyes of a dying man

And while you do him this favour, he turns, he sees you, he’s scared, he takes the gun and he doen’t return the courtesy

You fell down without a complain and you suddenly realized you didn’t have enough time to ask  forgiveness for all of your sins

You fell down without a complain and you suddenly realized that your life was about to end that day and there was no coming back

Little Nina, it takes so much courage to die in May, little Nina, I’m heading to hell, I would have preferred to go there in winter.

And while the wheat was listening to you, you held a rifle in your hands. In your mouth you held words, too icy to melt in the sun.

-

Find the original article, with more info, on Wordpress.

Find this song in my Spotify playlist “Songs Italians Consider Great Classics”, track nr. 28.

-

Sara - Unearth Italy. I'm on Wordpress - Twitter - Instagram . Subscribe to Malacopia, my newsletter.

[extasiswings]

"Offer Me" for Buddie :D

Technically this prompt was about giving a gift, but you know how I like to get metaphorical. Also, I understand that it's TV and therefore that they can and will insist on introducing debilitating trauma and then pretending it doesn't exist until it becomes plot relevant again, but if these writers don't stop putting Eddie in hugely triggering situations for his PTSD and not addressing it at all they're gonna catch these hands. Post-4x11.

Eddie makes it through the end of the shift by sheer force of will. And then, when he gets home to a dark, empty house—Christopher wanted to spend some time with Isabel so he’s staying at her house for a few days—

He makes it as far as the kitchen before everything he’s been holding back slams into him at once and has him retching into the sink.

Fuck. Fuck.

It’s not that they never end up around guns on shifts. Sometimes things happen. Hell, Eddie can remember all too well holding a line while Buck talked down a woman hanging out on a freeway sign who had a gun. Things happen.

But that’s different from what happened earlier. They’re not cops. They’re firefighters. They’re medics. People aren’t usually shooting at them. Being pinned down in a shipping container by gunfire, surrounded by his team, trying to keep a patient alive—

Eddie spits into the sink again as he shudders, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead and the back of his neck. His hands grip the counter tight, the edge digging into the palms, giving him something solid to focus on.

"ETA six minutes."

"We don’t have six minutes."

"Diaz—"

Eddie forces himself to take deep breaths and lets his gaze flick over the kitchen, cataloguing everything that’s out in the open. He’s in his house in Los Angeles. He’s not in Afghanistan. He’s not fighting a war.

He’s not fighting for his life.

And it was fine. Earlier. No one was hurt. They got the girl to the hospital. The asshole who kidnapped her was arrested.

"Diaz—"

No one was shot.

He’s alive. He’s fine.

They got the girl to the hospital.

They got her to the hospital.

Eddie’s eyes burn as the panic slowly begins to recede. He releases the counter and drags a hand over his jaw, exhaling shakily. For a minute he just stands there—the echoes of gunshots slowly fade from his ears—but finally he flicks on the sink to rinse his mouth and splashes water on his face for good measure. He’s just shut it off again when his phone rings. The sound is abrupt and jarring in the silence of the house—he flinches at the suddenness and yanks it out of his pocket.

“Hello?” Eddie answers without looking at the id, wincing at how rough his voice sounds.

“Eddie.” Buck’s voice is a relieved sigh. “Hey.”

Eddie’s pulse is still too fast, albeit slower than it had been. He pads out of the kitchen and collapses on the living room couch, stretching out and closing his eyes.

“Did I hear Bobby right that you got arrested today?” He asks as exhaustion settles into his very bones. His hand rests on his chest, over his heart, so he can feel the steady thrum level out to normal—it beats a tattoo of alive, alive, alive against his skin.

“Okay, I wasn’t arrested, Athena just stuck me in an interrogation room for a couple hours to keep an eye on me. And I still helped solve the case!”

Eddie’s lips curve up despite himself. He hadn’t planned on talking to anyone tonight, had dodged Bobby’s concerned looks to avoid getting pulled into conversation before he left the station, clenching his hands so no one would see them shake. He hadn’t wanted to talk. But he hadn’t really been thinking clearly either about the reality of coming home to empty space. To silence. Left entirely alone with his own head.

“Yeah...that still sounds kind of like you were arrested to me. But you were probably having more fun than we were.”

Buck’s quiet for a moment before he clears his throat.

“Chim said you guys were shot at in the container yard.”

Eddie swallows hard. “Yeah. Yeah, for a couple minutes.”

“Are you okay?”

The way Eddie’s stomach twists at the question, at the softness in Buck’s voice, isn’t the same as the roiling nausea that gripped him before. It’s not entirely comfortable—but then it never is when he feels like this. Vulnerable. Exposed. Because he knows why Buck’s asking.

They lived together for months during the second wave of the pandemic. It was a stressful time, and god knows Eddie hadn’t always slept easily.

Buck hadn’t shied away. Not once. Hadn’t judged. Hadn’t demanded explanations—which is why Eddie gave him one anyway.

Buck just listened every time. Listened until Eddie couldn’t wrap his tongue around words anymore and then wrapped his arms around Eddie instead, listing off random facts about anxiety and skin pressure depressing the central nervous system, and maybe Eddie wouldn’t have let Buck hold him out of pity but if it was for science well—

So. He knows why Buck’s asking. What Buck’s thinking.

“Not really,” he admits after a long stretch of silence. “But I will be.”

Buck makes a quiet sound over the line.

"I should have been there—"

“No,” Eddie interrupts, because being trapped with everyone else had been bad enough, but the thought of being in that situation with Buck? Makes something in him recoil violently. “You’re allowed to take a day off, Buck. Don’t do that to yourself. Nobody got hurt and you being there wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Buck sighs, but accepts that.

"Christopher’s at Isabel’s, right?" He asks. "Do you want me to come over? Or—"

Buck seems to trip over his words for some reason Eddie can’t quite understand.

"—I guess you could call Ana—"

“No.” Another recoil. Buck is one thing. Buck is safe, Buck has seen all of his raw, dark, ugly places and Eddie has seen Buck’s. Ana—they’re nowhere close to being there. He would sooner go throw up again than let her in like that.

Eddie swallows again. Takes another deep breath. He hates asking for anything, but—

“Would you—would you just talk? You don’t have to come over, I’m pretty wiped anyway, but...you could talk for a little. I don’t really care what about.”

“Yeah,” Buck says quietly. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Eddie falls asleep on the couch with Buck’s voice in his ear. And he blessedly doesn’t dream.

[excessive-levels-of-lesbianism]

Trauma

Sae-Byeok was drowning.

She can't breathe; it's suffocating. Her throat hurts, and her chest feels like it would burst. She tried kicking up, jumping, desperately trying to reach the surface. Turning her head to find a way, she came face to face with her father.

His face was pale, his eyes were devoid of life, and his body was full of bullet holes. She remembered that they were going to escape but, the soldiers started shooting at them when they were seen crossing the border. Her father...

"Why did you leave me?"

"Why did you let me die?"

He didn't make it.

Sae-Byeok wanted to say something, to tell him that it wasn't her fault, but she couldn't. She swallowed a lot of water earlier, and she was starting to feel dizzy. She closed her eyes, letting the abyss consume her. When she opened them, she saw her mother getting taken away in front of her.

Sae-Byeok tried running to her mother; to try and save her but... she couldn't move. She tried moving her body, but it looked like she was paralyzed. She couldn't do anything but watch as her mother screamed for help, her brother crying for her to come back.

"Why didn't you help mom?!"

"Why did you let them take her?!"

Cheol yelled at her, was distraught, and ran away. Sae-Byeok tried to run after him but, she lost sight of him a few seconds later. She tried running again but froze when she heard a gunshot. Looking at her surroundings, she saw several people in tracksuits being gunned down, an ominously giant doll staring right into her soul.

She opened her mouth, only for blood to come out of it. She staggered, her body feeling numb. One moment and she was on her knees, blood spattering across the floor. She looked down and, there was a fatal cut on her stomach. She tried pressing her hands tightly against the wound, but to no avail, she couldn't stop it.

The people around her were screaming for help and shrieking in horror. She just wants it to stop, to leave her alone because she can't take it anymore. She was starting to lose consciousness from the blood loss but, she could still hear them.

"I'm Seong Gi-hun. I live in Ssangnum-dong."

Leave me alone!

"Sae?"

"Kang Sae-Byeok! Thank you for playing with me."

Don't!

"-Sae!"

"067, remember our promise, okay? Take care of my mother for me."

Stop!

"-Wake up!"

Sae-Byeok shot up from her bed, shaking, her heart pounding. She frantically looked around, hoping that there weren't any corpses lying around the room. She suddenly felt warm arms enveloping her, hands rubbing her back, soothing her.

"Hey, it's all a dream. You're here with me, not there but here. You're safe. Breathe. It's all over now." a soft voice said. Sae-Byeok could only hold onto them as tears silently slipped from her eyes and down her face.

After a few minutes, she calmed down but still held (Y/N)'s hand, afraid they would be gone the moment she let go.

"Please, don't go. I don't want to lose you too." Sae-Byeok whimpered when she felt (Y/N) move away, only to find her sitting beside her in a much more comfortable position, holding a glass of water.

She found herself staring at (Y/N), who gave her a smile of reassurance, giving her the water before asking, "I'm not going anywhere. Do you want to tell me about it?"

Sae-Byeok, after drinking the water, contemplated her answer. She could still remember all of the painful events.

She tried to tell herself that it wasn't her fault, that everyone who she had lost had died knowing the risks. They died for a reason...but it didn't help that she was the only one left alive.

"I don't want you to suffer alone but, I'm not going to force you. You can tell me when you're ready. I'm your girlfriend and, I'm here for you, okay?"

(Y/N) said, giving her hand a comforting squeeze when she noticed her hesitancy.

"I dreamed... my parents... the games..." Sae-Byeok choked up, knowing if she said another word, she would burst into tears again.

"It's okay. You don't have to force yourself."

"I'm sorry." Sae-Byeok suddenly said, making (Y/N) look at her questioningly.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this. I'm a burden to you and everyone," Sae-Byeok said, looking down in guilt.

"Hey, don't say that. There's nothing for you to be sorry for." (Y/N) replied, shaking her head when she pulled Sae-Byeok's chin to look at her.

"We chose to help you because we care for you. I don't care if I have to do this every night. I'll stay up with you for as long as it takes." she continued, kissing Sae-Byeok in the forehead.

"Do you want to go back to bed?" she asked but, Sae-Byeok only shook her head, muttering, "I don't want to have a nightmare again."

"Okay, how about we watch something to take your mind of it?"

"You'll stay with me?"

"Of course. You can't get rid of me that easily."

"I have no plans to."

They spent the night watching until they fell asleep, content in each other's arms.

[gamerwoo]

[SVT Imprinted] Mingyu: Change of Heart (part 2)

Anonymous asked: can i request imprinted with mingyu when his mate kind of shot hyojin (yes i just came back after reading two timing) and how mingyu or the pack scold(?) her for shooting him??? sorry if its confusing -the anon who always check your blog every night-

Characters: Mingyu x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, angst, ✨murder✨, there’s not really any fluff idk i’m sorry

Word count: 2,074

Summary: Apparently you have luck with shooting all the werewolves you’re not supposed to. You’ve already shot your own mate once, and now you’ve shot and killed the mate of someone else. Now, you’re on “probation”.

Tags: @psshwa​ @uglyratlmao​ @brokenbutchocolate​ @shra-vasti​ @killcomet​​

Unable to tag: @junuoyi

Previous | Next | Imprinted Masterlist

You had noticed over the weekend there was an unfamiliar dirty-blond wolf that had been stalking around the property. You didn’t know if the pack couldn’t tell, or if they were too distracted by their mates. Either way, you always remembered to keep an eye on the situation.

“Just let it be, we don’t want another incident like what happened with Juri,” Mingyu had told you when you tried to explain the situation to him.

After Juri got her arm torn into, Mingyu was extra careful now. He even somehow became ten times more affectionate toward you, which you didn’t even think was possible. 

But that Monday, the wolf had gotten much closer this time. It was at the very edge of the backyard, and you had a bad feeling about it. You quickly went in search of your weapons, knowing they must’ve been kept somewhere you wouldn’t ever think to look -- and probably wouldn’t dare to look.

Seungcheol’s room.

Lo and behold, he kept them on the top shelf in his closet. Quickly, you grabbed your gun and raced down the stairs. The few members of the pack that were home – Chan, Seokmin, Aya, Jun, Yoona, and Eunmi – didn’t pay any attention to you as there were always people running around the house.

Bursting through the back door, you saw the wolf was now in the yard and sniffing at the vegetable garden. He looked up when he saw you, immediately smelling the silver in the air and baring his teeth. His golden eyes slipped into a blood red as he stared you down. You held your gun steadily in front of you, aimed right at him.

You had to protect your family. You had shot Mingyu once before, and you had to make it up to him – to everyone. They were your family now, and you had to keep them safe.

You could easily tell this wasn’t anyone from that pack they were friends with. If it was, they wouldn’t be keeping tabs on the house for no reason, and they wouldn’t be sneaking around the yard. Every single one of your senses told you this wolf was danger.

He suddenly went to leap at you, so you pulled the trigger, the shot ringing out into the air. There was no doubt the pack inside heard it and would be out soon.

The wolf landed on it’s feet, but you could clearly see the red liquid coming from a wound in it’s shoulder. As it tensed to jump again, you shot straight into it’s chest, watching as it almost instantly fell to the ground with a thud.

Meanwhile, the pack in the house was sent into a panic. Eunmi and Aya were together in the living room, Chan was in the kitchen, and the rest of the wolves were in their rooms. Around sundown was when people tended to start returning home. However, the noise they heard outside wasn’t a car door closing or a motorcycle pulling into the driveway. It was a gunshot.

Eunmi and Aya had exchanged looks before they stood up to go check what they noise was. Jun was rushing down the stairs with Seokmin behind him, and Chan had run down the hall from the kitchen.

“What was that?” Yoona asked, chasing after her mate.

“I told you to stay upstairs,” he groaned.

“Where’s _____?” Seokmin asked, noticing Eunmi and Aya were the only two in the living room.

All eyes went wide before the entire group was rushing out the back door. As expected, you were outside. However, you weren’t keeled over or bleeding out like they expected. You had a gun in your hand, pointed toward the forest. The look in your eyes was deadly as smoke flowed out of the hole in the gun where the bullet had come from.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Aya yelled, causing you to finally look away from the wolf whose breathing was becoming slower and slower with each second. 

She turned and spoke with the pack behind her before Seokmin was leading Yoona and Eunmi back inside. Jun and Chan joined the female wolf as she stalked across the yard over to you. Jun went over to the wolf and saw that by now, his heart had stopped.

“Not only did you kill somebody, but you went and found the weapons that were specifically taken from you,” Aya continued her scolding, looking at you with red eyes that had you backing away from her.

“Well,” Jun sighed as he finally walked over, “you’re lucky it wasn’t anyone from Bang Chan’s pack.”

“So, if it wasn’t from a pack we know,” Aya began slowly, “then…who is it?”

Inside the house, the three were wondering who the wolf could’ve been. Seokmin reassured them it was nobody from a pack they were friends with or knew, so nobody had any ideas who could’ve been wandering their backyard.

“I can’t imagine it would be anyone with good intentions...” Yoona frowned, trying to calm herself while Seokmin rubbed her back.

But suddenly, Eunmi’s eyes widened, realizing the only person who would come here would be…

“Jinsoo!”

Eunmi left the small group to go see if she recognized the wolf. The wolves outside had heard her, and Junhui repeated the name in a questioning tone. With how big of a threat Jinsoo seemed to be, it seemed almost too easy for him to be killed so suddenly now.

As Eunmi pushed past you to examine the wolf, you couldn’t even bring yourself to move. Had you really killed the wolf that was after your family? Had you single-handedly ended the feud?

“Oh fuck,” Eunmi groaned, grabbing the attention of you and the two wolves. The scarred mate looked over at you, looking somewhere between worried and confused. “This isn’t Jinsoo, it’s Hyojin...Jaehee’s mate.”

Jun hung his head with a sigh, while Aya did the opposite and looked up at the sky, running her hands over her face. Chan could only look between everyone’s faces in shock before his eyes finally settled back on the dead wolf. You dropped to your knees in shock. You just killed your pack sister’s mate. What were you going to do now? Could you even do anything?

“Call the pack,” Aya ordered, sounding more annoyed than concerned. She gripped you under one arm and pulled you to stand up. “Eunmi, you’ll go with Joshua to go get Jaehee. We need to take care of this and figure out what to do next.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jun asked as they began to walk back inside.

“I mean that our pack just killed a member of his pack,” Aya explained. “Jinsoo’s going to retaliate, and it’s not going to be pretty. We need a plan.”

-

Mingyu, Jeonghan, Juri, Seungcheol, and Minghao were the first ones to arrive. Mingyu raced through the door first, running straight to you as you sat in one corner of the couch while Aya continued to yell at you for being careless and thoughtless. She didn’t stop yelling until Jeonghan came over, wrapped his arms around her, and physically carried her away.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asked frantically as he hugged you to him. “Are you hurt? Did you--”

“I just killed Jaehee’s mate, Gyu!” you burst, angry that he was so worried about you when you were the one who hurt somebody – two people, actually.

Everyone seemed shocked except for Seungcheol. Apparently Jun had only told the alpha the details about the situation. Seungcheol also looked incredibly disappointed with you.

“You…you what?” Mingyu asked softly, pulling away to look at you like you just told him you ran over his puppy.

“It was an accident, I--”

“Did you ‘accidentally’ go through my stuff, too?” Seungcheol questioned, looking a lot like a scolding father as he crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at you. “You knew what you were doing, ____, you just didn’t stop and think about who you could be doing it to, and what the consequences would be.”

“Seungcheol,” Mingyu whined softly, holding you to his side protectively, “go easy on her.”

“Mingyu, she murdered someone’s mate,” Seungcheol growled, and everyone in the room visibly backed down. “I don’t give a shit if it was someone in a pack we don’t like, Jaehee’s going to have to go through the worst heartache she will ever feel in her life. Would you want me to go easy on someone for ‘accidentally’ taking your mate from you?”

Mingyu stayed quiet, but you didn’t blame him. You had fucked up, and you deserved everything Seungcheol said to you. You knew he was right, and you knew there was no way you could fix this or take it back. Jaehee would have to come home and be told her mate was dead, and you knew she would hate you for it.

You hated yourself for it.

“What do we do, Cheol?” Juri asked quietly, her small hands wrapping around one of Seungcheol’s.

He sighed, relaxing a least a little at the touch of his mate, “Mingyu and _____ shouldn’t be around when Jaehee gets here.”

“What about the…corpse?” Minghao wondered, holding Yoona to him almost like he was trying to comfort her. “How do we get rid of a giant wolf body?”

“I know how…” you spoke up meekly, raising your hand a little bit.

“I’ll help,” Mingyu offered.

“We’ll start talking about what to do next,” Seungcheol sighed, carding his fingers of his free hand through his hair.

Seungcheol was definitely pissed at you. Joshua, despite the fact his mate was hurting because of you, tried to show you kindness anyway. You knew it was forced, but you were still thankful for it. He was pretty much the only person not upset with you. Even the other mates were a bit pissed – save for Eunmi, but she was mad because this couldn’t have been planned out or talked through beforehand. It was abrupt and unplanned for, and that was what annoyed Eunmi.

Mingyu stayed by your side because, well, he wanted to, but also because Seungcheol told him not to let you out of his sight. But you really knew Seungcheol was upset with you when he willingly handed your weapons back over to you, and told you to do what you wanted with them.

-

That first week after killing Hyojin was definitely the hardest for you. Nobody seemed to want anything to do with you, and you were being supervised more than Kaito was when he was over. The only person who seemed happy to talk to you except for Mingyu was Rini, and that was only because she didn’t live at the house with the pack.

You tried to just focus on yourself for the most part, although Mingyu dragged you to classes with him because you couldn’t be left alone. You couldn’t tell if you were being treated more like a child or a prisoner.

Then again, you did murder somebody.

After two weeks of not seeing Jaehee at all, you saw her for the first time while you were in the kitchen making lunch. You turned away from the stove to grab the cutting board Juri asked for, and you were met with a hand slapping against your face, making your cheek sting and your eyes water. You looked up just in time to see Joshua pushing Jaehee out of the room.

The kitchen was left in stunned silence, staring at the doorway until Joshua’s back disappeared, and then they looked to you.

“Are you okay?” Juri wondered, lightly holding your chin so she could take a look at the red mark forming on your cheek.

An ice pack was held out to you, and you looked up to see Seungcheol looking back at you expressionless. You gave him a small, awkward smile as you took it and placed it to your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke up, which actually surprised you. “You just wanted to protect us. Next time, though, just…ask one of us first.”

“I did,” you insisted, “but Mingyu told me to leave it alone.”

The alpha turned around to glare at your mate, “She warned you about Hyojin wandering around, and you didn’t tell us?”

Mingyu’s eyes widened, his mouth full of food, “_____, don’t throw me under the bus with you!”

[winterscaptain]

focused.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thanks to kira for helping me through the last dregs of this!! you’re amazing!! As promised, here’s lo-fi/mayhem in our ajf world. as (usually) usual, no context required to enjoy, but it’s pretty fun over here!

words: 6.4k warnings: language, canon-typical injury/violence, everyone’s mad and everyone’s worried!

summary: “knowing when to fight is just as important as knowing how.” terry goodkind, faith of the fallen. au!may 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? updated: february 1st, 2021

“Don’t get comfortable. There will be time to debrief on the plane.” Hotch’s eyes are trained on the monitor, where grainy security footage plays and replays an exceedingly casual murder in an underground subway station. 

Reid, entering behind you, squints at the monitor. “Where are we headed?”

“New York.”

Rossi advances on the monitor. “Five shootings in two weeks. It’s about time we got the call.” 

You watch as Hotch replays the tape again. “Why the delay?”

Aaron doesn��t answer you, but rather addresses Derek. “I want to take Garcia with us. Hopefully they’ll give us access to their surveillance systems.”

He’s distracted, almost absent-minded. It’s odd. 

“What do we know?” You try again with another question, and Emily dips her chin - she had the same one. 

Hotch pauses the video, turning toward the rest of you - loosely circled around the table. “All the killings are mid-day. Single gunshot to the head with a .22.”

“Any witnesses?” As always, JJ looks for somewhere to go as soon as wheels are down. 

She really doesn’t get paid enough. 

There’s something odd in her voice and temperament this morning, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Now that you’re really awake and looking around, everyone's a little jumpy this morning. It doesn't help that the two most grounded people on the team are the most absent-minded of you all. 

“No.” 

Spencer pipes up. “.22-caliber pistol’s only 152 decibels. New York streets and subways are routinely well over a hundred.”

“So,” you ask, “could it be such that possible witnesses don’t even clock it before the unsub’s already on their way?”

Spencer nods. 

Derek shifts beside you. “They sound like mob hits.” 

Aaron dips his chin, but says, “Except none of them have ties to organized crime.”

The rest of the facts and questions fly past you - no connection between victims, no communication or contact, surveillance footage that shows next to nothing, an establishment that the unsub is bold and well-trained. 

Seems completely random. 

Spencer voices your next thought. “Son of Sam all over again.”

The grim look on Aaron’s face tells you all you need to know. 

+++

Derek, Penelope, and Emily shoot the shit as they get on the plane, but you notice JJ staring forlornly out the window. You resolve to discover what that’s about as soon as possible. Having her down was odd…

But she has been acting strange lately, not just today. 

You sit beside Hotch, across from Reid as Rossi flips through photos of the victims. 

Spencer makes astute observations about the continued pattern of, well, no pattern at all, while Hotch provides some remarks here and there. 

One of them catches your attention. “It’s a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce?” 

Yeah, because those always go over so well. 

“Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office. She’s running point on the case and called me directly.” He calls out to JJ, who then informs the pilot you’re all ready to get wheels up. “Kate’s starting to butt heads with the local detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes.” 

There’s something in his voice you can’t place. History, maybe? 

“Joyner, I know her,” Derek says. “She’s a Brit, right?” 

Hotch shrugs. “Well, dual citizenship. Her father’s British, her mother’s American. She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before coming to the Bureau.”

You look over at him. 

That’s a ridiculous amount of knowledge for someone who doesn’t work in the same state, Aaron. 

“I heard she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass.” It’s a test. The defiant tip of Derek’s chin tells you as much. 

Hotch takes the bait. “I didn’t think so.”

You can’t help it. “You know her?”

“We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard.”

You look at Emily, who shrugs. 

“And she’s good?” You wouldn’t call Dave’s tone skeptical, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was another test. He’s a lot subtler than Morgan. 

Hotch looks back at Dave. “I think we’re lucky to have her.” 

+++

You all step out of the elevator, and you stay closest to JJ. Her absent-mindedness had yet to leave her, and as the person closest to her age, you were doing your best to support her with your presence alone. 

JJ leans toward you as you approach the center of the office. “Is it just me or does she look -”

“- exactly like Haley?” You finish JJ’s thought. “Yeah.”

There’s a little smile you can see on Aaron’s face, just touching his profile. Agent Joyner has one too, and it makes you feel...something. 

Whatever it is, it isn’t comfortable. 

“Kate.”

“Aaron. How’ve you been?”

You take another glance at JJ. She seems to have the same thought as you. 

First name basis? How close are they?

“Well, thank you. This is my team.” He introduces you all one by one, and you attempt to plaster a polite smile on your face, just like everyone else. Derek’s the only one who doesn’t make an effort, and you tap the side of his shoe with your foot. 

Penelope gets settled right away, and the NYPD detectives approach shortly after that. Of course, they start with a snide remark at Spencer. Your hackles rise, and you take a little huff of a breath. 

Calm down. 

Kate introduces Detectives Brustin and Cooper. Dave gets right to the point, doing his best to establish baseline rapport. 

It doesn’t work. 

You don’t notice that you’ve crept closer to Aaron throughout the proceedings, now standing just off his shoulder, next to Emily, until Kate leans into him. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

The crumpling of your brow is quick, and you hope nobody noticed. Emily’s head, whirling around to look at Derek, is far less subtle. 

“Sure.”

Emily tracks back to JJ, who looks confused. In a hushed and suggestive tone, she tells her, “They...liaised when she was at Scotland Yard.”

You hide your laugh in your shoulder, covering your movement with an attempt to adjust your backpack. 

Derek steps up behind you. “Let me get that for you, kiddo.” 

You look up at him, hard-pressed to keep your mirth to yourself. A little smile plays at the edge of his lips as well. He turns you around when he’s done pretending to be helpful, holding you in the little huddle that develops between the rest of you and the NYPD detectives. 

Derek’s eyes keep flickering to Kate’s office, where she and Hotch chat informally and perhaps even fondly, to an extent. Heat rises in your cheeks. 

Get over yourself. 

+++

You attempt to ignore the sheer amount of time Aaron spends looking over Kate’s shoulder behind her desk. Tearing your eyes from her office window, you return to your task. 

The whiteboard marker in your hand is seeing lots of use as you follow Spencer’s instructions, tracing lines between key points, making notes, etc. Cooper’s banter with Emily puts a little smile on your face. 

“Anti-geographical profiling? Now you wonder why we’re so skeptical?” Cooper’s voice is full of play, but there’s a very real concern behind it. 

Emily laughs, but then explains, “This unsub’s organized. He strikes at the same time of day, he knows where the cameras are placed. That means he’s doing his own surveillance.”

You offer your two cents in support of Spencer, who outlines the difference between need-motivated killers and organized killers. Cooper looks a little impressed by the time you add, “So, essentially, we need to look everywhere this unsub isn’t to find where he lives. He has a comfort zone, and we just have to find it.” 

“What are we finding?” Hotch and Kate roll out of her office, and he settles beside you, peering at the map.

You look over your shoulder at him. “He’s organized, so we’ve redirected to an anti-geographical profile.” 

“Keep looking.” He turns on his heel and walks out the door, Kate trailing behind him with a confidence that tightens your jaw. 

Maybe Derek was right. Maybe she is a pain in the ass. 

+++

You keep your eyes up as Rossi and Hotch inspect the body on the busy New York street. Your mind wanders to a lecture at the academy, the voice of the late Jennifer Shepard echoing through your head. 

“Always watch the watchers.” 

But then again, she’d always backed it up with another story about “the man with all the rules” to undermine the rules in question. The stories did more than make you laugh - they helped you remember. 

“See anything?” Hotch looks up, not at you, but you know you have his attention. 

You shake your head, your eyes still on the crowd. “Nothing obvious.” 

He hums, and tunes back in as Derek says, “From the placement of that camera, odds are the only view they’re gonna get is the back of his head.”

“Let’s not be too quick to decide what we do or don’t have.” Kate meets Derek’s eyes and stares him down. You bristle, but Hotch turns just the smallest bit toward you, reminding you to behave. 

The detective makes another snide remark as Kate brushes past the rest of you. 

Derek turns toward Hotch, and you step back, giving them the illusion of privacy. “You mind telling me why I’m catching attitude from her?”

Because you’re better at your job? Because you don’t have a chip on your shoulder the size of the Atlantic? Because you probably haven’t maybe slept with our unit chief, maybe?

“FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn’t bring this case home, she’s gonna be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her.” 

“You’re kidding me.” 

Aaron squints a little, but his words are deeply genuine. “Why should you be surprised? You’re good at your job. People notice that.” 

He’s right. 

“What happened to the Bureau patting itself on the back from stealing her away from Scotland Yard?” 

Hotch shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know. Politics here are different. And you can see she doesn’t pull punches.” He walks away, and Derek looks over his shoulder at you. 

With a little smile, you say, “He’s right, you know.” 

“You’re a terrible ass-kisser, kid.” 

Nevertheless, he taps your shoulder with his knuckle and you both make your way to Rossi, examining a tarot card. 

+++

“We’ve got more than one unsub.” Hotch’s tone is more than defeated, and you peer further over his shoulder, your fingers pressing lightly into the back of his arm for balance. 

Rossi circles the desk. “So, we have more than one unsub. What does that tell us?”

“Most teams stick together,” Spencer says. “Ng and Lake. The Krays. Bittaker and Norris. They don’t usually kill separately.” 

Derek is next, offering, “Could be some kind of gang initiation.” 

Emily and JJ volley about gang operations and local task forces for a moment before Kate asks. “Do you think we have enough for a working profile?”

You startle a little. She’s closer than you thought, on the other side of Hotch. You lean around him, the soft wool of his suit sleeve still under your fingers. “Broad strokes, maybe. Nothing specific, yet.”

Hotch makes a few assignments, but you’re focused on Derek. As you suspected, he has an idea. “I think we should get out on the streets.”

Also unsurprising, Kate has an immediate rebuttal. “I brought you here to create a profile.” 

“Which we can give in the morning, and they can share it with the afternoon shift.” 

She huffs. “We’ve allocated every extra man we have.” You don’t miss the warning glance Hotch shoots Derek or the way Derek ignores it. “This is New York City. It’s not like adding a few more people is gonna blanket the city.” 

“I understand it’s a long shot. But these guys, they hit at mid-day. We could target ingress and egress to particular neighborhoods. Position us near express stops - 14th, 42nd, 59th -”

“Morgan. It’s not your call.” Hotch’s rebuke is harsh, surprising. 

You inhale sharply and tuck your lip between your teeth, retracting your hand. 

This is gonna be a long case. 

+++

Thankfully, you’re all headed back to the hotel in fairly short order. Hotch has all but ordered Kate to bed, and you try not to let your thoughts stray too far in response. 

Spencer’s eyes wander up, and you follow them. “JJ -” 

Will?

You’d only met him once but like him well enough. He was polite, pleasant, and even funny. Seeing as you hadn’t heard much about him in the last few months, you assumed JJ had broken it off. 

Guess not. 

She turns. “Will.” 

“Hey,” he says, “took a shot and flew to D.C. but it didn’t work. I figured I’d train up to New York - only a few more hours.” 

Hotch looks a little surprised, which probably means you do too. He extends his hand. “Detective.” 

Will takes it. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. I know you’re working. But, um…” He drops his voice. “I can’t stand you being on this case and me not being here - not with what’s going on.” 

You look at JJ, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then Hotch, who looks a little confused. Aaron’s the first one to speak, and you’re more than a little touched by the concern in his voice as he addresses JJ and JJ alone. “Is there a problem?”

Will dips his head, and you know he’s disappointed. 

What the hell is going on? 

She turns toward the team. With a little laugh, she says, “I’m pregnant.”

Hotch freezes, and you step close to him as Emily congratulates her. Will extends his hand and Hotch shakes it again. “I’ve asked JJ to marry me.” 

JJ whirls around, and there’s a warning in her voice. “Will.”

“We’re, ah, working out some kinks.” 

“We’ll, um” Aaron says, coming back to himself, “give you both some privacy.” He nods and steps away. You follow close behind him, but you fall back as JJ hops after him. 

“Hotch -”

There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before when he replies. “JJ, you could have told me.” He almost sounds...hurt? Your brow crumples, and you try to stay out of his eye line as they chat. 

Pin that for later...

“I know.” 

“I understand if you need to take some time.” 

“No, I want to be here.” She’s firm in her conviction, and you can’t say you’d be any different if you were in any similar situation - injury, illness, otherwise. 

“Okay. Seven AM.” 

She nods and turns back to Will while Hotch continues toward the elevators. The rest of the team passes ahead of you, leaping into the open lift. Aaron hangs back and you follow his lead, letting the doors close. 

“Are you okay?” 

He sighs. “Yeah. Just unexpected.” 

Taking a little leap, you step close to him in a show of camaraderie. He’d never let on, but he needs contact sometimes. You might even go so far as to say the poor man is touch-starved. 

He wraps his arm around you, and you bite back a pleased smile, feeling more than a little chuffed. You examine his profile. “What’s on your mind?”

His shrug says many things. His sigh says more. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I know.”

+++

“We’re not having that discussion, right now.” Hotch’s cutoff is flat, and it shoots irritation through you.

Your brow furrows, and you sputter for a second before turning on him. “What’s with you? That’s like the sixth time you’ve shut me down today.” 

Hotch opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Kate’s voice chirps from behind you. 

“Are all your younger agents this insubordinate, Aaron, or is it limited to this one?”

You grit your teeth, and blatantly ignore the apology blossoming in Hotch’s eyes as you say, “Excuse me, sir.” You turn your head, not quite looking at Kate. “Agent Joyner.” You brush past Hotch, almost shoulder-checking him, and leave the room. The door shuts loudly behind you. 

Derek looks up, and you wave him off as he rises to follow. 

Throwing the stairway door open, you fly down two flights of stairs before sitting heavily upon the landing. You throw your blazer off, the heat under the fabric only fueling your anger. 

Your hands cover your face and you manage three deep breaths before tears press in at your eyes. Molten humiliation courses through you, your face hot and hands shaking. 

It’s not fair to expect Kate to understand the rapport you have with Hotch, why you can push him inexplicably further than the rest of your team. It’s not fair, but you still feel betrayed by Hotch’s accommodation of her insecurity and Kate’s own ridiculousness. 

The lack of sleep doesn’t help.

A few relevant thoughts regarding the profile float through your head and you pin them for later. 

The door opens two floors above, and you hear Aaron’s familiar footsteps hesitate before they slowly descend to your level. You keep your face pressed into your hands as he sits beside you, resting his arms on his knees. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you today.”

You sniff, but don’t answer. He waits for you, a few minutes passing in silence, but you don’t have anything to say. 

“I’ve done my best to make Kate feel supported, but I -” he huffs, and you know he’s working hard to properly articulate his feelings. You appreciate it. “I’ve failed both you and Morgan in the process. I’ve explained the situation to him, but I didn’t speak to you before I…” He trails off. “For that, I’m sorry.” 

You drop your hands from your face, wiping at the evidence of your anger. “Just...remember who’s on your team, would you?”

“I do.” 

“Then -” You throw your arms up and huff at him, his response inspiring a new wave of irritation in your chest. “Then why the fuck are you riding my ass about this shit today? You haven’t taken a single one of my ideas, and all but one has been really good.” 

He sighs. “I know. I also know that you can take it. I trust you to be resilient in difficult political situations such as this one. I don’t have that same trust in Kate right now.” He pauses and you watch his left thumb worry a track back and forth over the knuckle of his middle finger. Your eyes wander to the barely-noticeable tan line where his wedding ring used to sit. With a start, you realize you didn’t notice its absence and you don’t know when he took it off. When he speaks again, your eyes snap back to your feet. “Your ability to step away instead of rightfully lashing out at Kate speaks to your excellence and professionalism in your role, and shows me my faith is not misplaced.” 

You look at him, finding his brown eyes soft and apologetic. “Thanks.” 

He grabs your blazer off the ground and stands. He straightens his suit jacket, offering you a hand. You take it and rise, using the back of your other hand to rid yourself entirely of tears. 

With gentle hands, he slips your blazer over your shoulders, fixing the collar and brushing debris off the back. You let him fuss, knowing all the while his concern is another apology. 

“It’s far too organized to be just organized crime, by the way,” you inform him casually, as if remarking on the weather. 

He looks almost startled. “What?”

You tug on his arm and take the stairs two at a time back up to Kate’s floor. “Look.” He follows you as you burst back through both sets of doors into the conference room, stepping in front of Kate for access to the map. “We have more than one unsub. They’ve attacked different neighborhoods across Manhattan - all different demographic and socio-economic backgrounds. They’re trying to send a message, and each attack is a play to build their audience. If anything, our presence tells them that it’s working.” 

A look of realization crosses Hotch’s face, and he presses a hand to your shoulder, his fingertips squeezing just a little before he lets go. “Well done.” He turns to Kate. “We’re ready to update the working profile.” 

You keep your eyes trained on Aaron, but Kate’s clenched jaw doesn’t escape your notice. 

+++

“Focused? From where I’m standing, your focus is on her.” 

It’s finally come to a head. Derek has absolutely lost it, rightfully so, in the middle of the federal building, while Hotch tries to keep the peace, and Kate looks appropriately chastised. 

You reach for Derek’s elbow with gentle fingers, but he shakes you off. 

“Take a walk. Now.” Aaron’s tone is nothing to trifle with, and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

Fuck. 

“Derek. C’mon.” You yank once on his sleeve and lead him out the doors. He’s pissed, almost vibrating with energy. 

You look over your shoulder exactly once to check on Aaron, who leans heavily over a desk. When he looks up, you turn your head before he can meet your gaze. 

Yes, it’s a punishment. Yes, he knows it. He'll get your attention once he’s earned it again. 

Derek cools off a little once you get outside, and he leads the way to the hotel bar. You’re sure you'd be better off returning to your post upstairs, but he needs you more than anyone else right now. 

You also don’t trust yourself to be in the same room as Aaron - the likelihood of losing your usually-endless patience with him is dangerously high. At this rate, you’d get yourself a first-class ticket to Suspension City - at worst ending with your removal from the unit. 

There was no way on this green earth that you’d end up off the unit of Hotch had any say, but your exhausted brain was only giving you the worst-case scenario at the moment. 

He sits heavily on a barstool and orders a Stella. You don’t comment on his choice to drink while on the clock. You take a water, and wait for him to speak. He doesn’t touch his beer. 

“Thanks for coming with me.” 

“Of course.” 

“You should go back.” 

Looking up, you see Rossi walking through the doors. “Alright, but you’re not getting out of anything.” By the time you’ve finished, Dave is at Derek’s other side, getting comfortable. You press a hand to Derek’s shoulder, leaving them alone. 

You take a few deep breaths before returning to the proper floor. Kate is in her office with Hotch over her shoulder. 

He looks up when you walk in. How’s Morgan?

“He’ll be back.” 

+++

You reach Emily with Derek and JJ, and she looks flustered. 

“Are you okay?” Derek takes stock of Emily, but you figure out there’s nothing to know about Cooper. 

Emily walks through the moments before and during the shooting, growing increasingly intense. You watch her as Derek digs and digs - finding the right questions for the answers she wants to share. 

“Wait,” you ask. “You think he deliberately shot someone where he could be caught?”

“What if he did?” Her eyes are wild, angry. “What if they chose this spot because we were here?”

“What are you thinking?” Derek leans forward, searching her face for answers.

She enumerates her points. “He had no ID on him. He waited until we caught up to him. He was strangely calm- it’s almost like suicide by cop.”

“Why?” You hear yourself ask. “Why would he do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to make us think everything was finished.” 

You look at Derek. He looks back at you. 

“We need to walk back through this profile.”

Just then, Aaron and Kate dip under the police tape and make a beeline for Rossi and Reid. Dave looks grim and you can’t hear what they’re saying, but you’re sure they’ve come to the same conclusion as you. 

Terrorism. 

+++

“So much for theory.” Dave uncrosses his arms and the room leaps into action. 

Kate grabs her blazer and looks at Aaron. “We need to hit the ground running.” 

“I'm gonna head to the hospital,” Emily says, already headed for the door. “I'll check on Cooper and brief detective Brustin.” 

“Good.” Aaron makes the rest of the assignments. “Dave, will you go talk to the commissioner?” He assigns you and Derek to Homeland Security for a briefing, and you grab your things. You will be Derek’s shadow for the duration, and you’re more than happy you’re with him. 

So why does something feel...wrong?

You look at Aaron, and his brow is furrowed. He meets your eyes. What’s wrong?

I don’t know. 

His mouth presses into a thin line. This first, then that. 

You nod and he starts talking again. “Kate and I will go talk to the mayor and we'll meet back here as soon as possible.”

“One advantage that we have right now is that they don't know we know they're watching.”

For once, you agree with Kate. It’s about damn time. 

+++

You get into the car with Derek and head toward the DHS field office. 

“I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve done well.” 

Smiling a little, you thank him. “Though I do think we’ve pushed Hotch to the absolute limit this week, between the two of us.” 

He rolls his eyes, speeding down the shockingly barren New York streets. “If one of us isn’t, who is?”

“Rossi.” 

You both freeze as an explosion goes off. You don’t know where it is, but Derek turns around with a spectacular screech of tires. 

“Derek...What -”

“We’re going back. That’s not good. Let’s go.” He guns the engine, and you’re on your way back to the federal building with sirens blaring. 

His phone rings and he checks the caller ID as he answers. “Yeah. I'm still here.” He looks at you. “We’re still here.” 

“Yes, you are. Thank God.”

Garcia. 

“I'm almost back at the federal building. What the hell's going on?” 

“Alright, we're going over the closed-circuit footage right now.” You can hear her faintly through the phone, and he puts her on speaker. 

“Who else have you checked on?”

“You're the first. Rossi and Reid called me.”

“All right. Keep me on the line while you check on everyone else.” 

Emily picks up next. “Is everyone ok?”

Garcia tells her she’s got the both of you on the line, and she’s already spoken to Rossi and Reid. 

Your body is almost completely bowed toward Derek, twisted in the passenger seat. “Emily, where are you?” 

“I'm following detective Brustin to one of the NYPD’s Critical Incident Command Posts.”

“One of them?” Garcia’s confusion is only a little frantic, and you more than sympathize with her tangent. Anything is a better thought than the one you’re all sharing at this very moment. 

Derek explains the decentralization of the CICP’s following 9/11 - too many eggs in one basket. 

Garcia cuts him off, getting back on track. “Has anyone talked to JJ?”

Emily answers her. “She was headed back to the hotel.” 

“In an SUV? 

“I think so. Stay with me a minute. I'll dial her mobile.” 

JJ’s voicemail rings through Derek’s phone, and your heart sinks. “This is Agent Jareau, Communications Director for the FBI’s Behavioral--” It cuts off.

You lean over the center console. “What was that? What happened?”

Garcia’s voice is flustered when she answers, “It went dead mid-message.”

“Try her again. She's probably back at--” You lose Emily. 

You lost all of them in the middle of a sentence, and all the blood drains out of your face. Derek drops his phone into one of the cupholders and reaches out. You grab his hand, holding it in both of yours. 

This is a nightmare. 

Derek keeps driving, and you find a police barricade on your way back to the federal building. Derek throws the car into park and you both leap out of the car, flashing your badges at anyone who will look. You find the man in charge, but he tells you to get back to the federal building. 

Hot anger flies through you. 

Who does he think he is? 

You stick close to Derek, but startle when you hear Hotch cry out. Pressing along the barricade, you call across the block. “Aaron! Aaron! We’re here!” 

You get leave to go, and you and Derek sprint toward Aaron and Kate. He’s covered in blood, both his and Kate’s and you get on one side of him while Derek crouches on the other side of Kate. Your hands flutter over him for a moment, one of them landing on the nape of his neck. The softness of his hair is the same as it’s always been, and it grounds you. 

“Aaron -” 

He’s not looking at you. “Morgan, we've got to get her out of here.” 

Derek throws his arm out of the side, outlining the situation. “They're not letting any ambulances down here ‘til they clear the scene.” He turns to the young man hovering behind Aaron. “Kid, you gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go. Go!”

Hotch nods at him. “Go, Sam.”

“Good luck.” The kid sprints off, and Derek draws Hotch’s focus again. 

“Talk to me. Can we carry her?” He leans further over Kate, into Aaron’s eye line. “Hotch, can we carry her?”

“No, I tried. Morgan, she's gonna bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We gotta do something.” The ache in his voice is horrible. You reach out, brushing some hair off Kate’s forehead. She’s cold to the touch, and you press your hand to the side of her face, willing your warmth into her. 

“C’mon Kate.” You whisper to yourself. She’s still not your favorite person, but Aaron’s agony as he literally holds her body together tears your heart in two.

Derek’s phone rings, and it’s Penelope. “Garcia, I got Hotch. But listen to me. You gotta get somebody down here right away, you hear me? Right now. What? You're absolutely sure?” Derek looks up, finding the kid standing by the shelled remains of the car. “Hotch. The kid. He's the bomber.” 

“Go.” Aaron’s voice is defeated, and you hesitate as your body coils to chase after Derek. Aaron looks at you. “Please. Stay.” 

You nod, and tuck in close to him, keeping one hand on his arm and another on Kate’s cheek. An ambulance pulls up, and you’re more than relieved. 

Hotch briefs the paramedic. “She's got an arterial bleed in her back and I'm doing my best to hold it closed. 

“You ok?”

Isn’t that the question of the hour. 

“I just want to get her out of here.”

That’s not a fucking answer, Aaron. 

You let it go, for now. He’s a mess, but he’s alive and he’s conscious. That’s what’s important right now. You tune back in. 

“You were calling for help and I couldn't listen anymore. My partner was too afraid to come in here with me.” 

Aaron leans into Kate, and your heart pulls again. “Kate, we're gonna get you out of here. We're on our way out of here.”

You help as much as you can, following instructions and making sure Kate’s stable. 

+++

When you’re all finished, you get into the passenger seat of the ambulance. Hotch is on autopilot and he shouldn’t be driving, but you’re ready to take over at a moment’s notice. 

When you’re stopped at the emergency room entrance, you flash your credentials as Hotch explains the situation as clearly as he can. The Secret Service agent reluctantly waves you through. Kate’s crashing in the back, and Aaron’s agitation flies through the roof. 

It’s a blur, but you finally end up in the hospital, shadowing Aaron. He collapses, and you cry out for help, holding his hands as he hits the ground. 

Everything's happening so fast. 

When will it end?

+++

“Kiddo, where’s Hotch?” Derek comes flying through the doors of the ER, and you throw yourself into him. 

“He’s fine. Massive trauma to his right ear and a shrapnel wound. Kate’s in surgery.” 

There’s a commotion from behind the open door, and you both rush in when you hear Hotch’s voice.

You get in between Hotch and the attending, doing your best to calm him down. “Aaron, Hotch. Calm down. Slow down. You’re really hurt.” 

“Where’s Kate?” 

You press your hands into his wrists, and he twists his arms, surprising you by gripping your forearms. “She’s in surgery. Your go-bag is on its way. Nothing’s happened since the first blast.” 

He looks somewhat placated but looks over at Derek. “Sam?”

“He’s dead.” 

Hotch releases you. “Morgan, the profile's wrong. Call JJ.” 

+++

“Are you ok?” Emily takes full stock of him, and isn’t happy with what she finds. 

“Yeah. I just want to understand why I'm still alive.” You help him with his vest, minding his shoulder. You’re not sure what’s wrong with it, but he’s favoring one over the other. He looks at you, and there are thanks in his brown eyes. You offer him a quick, soft smile but continue with your task, gently tightening the vest around his tender ribs, smoothing over the velcro with even pressure. 

You’re listening as they go along, talking signatures and bomb-making and all manner of horrific precedent. You pass two pieces of fresh cotton to Hotch, who immediately replaces the bloodied cotton in his right ear. He shakes his head with two deep blinks.

His ears are ringing something stupid right now, I bet. 

I wish I could do more. 

Just be here. Do your job. That’s what you can do. 

All at once, you figure out that the ambulance is the bomb. You spot Hotch as he moves (way too fast) down the hallway. 

Goddamn it, Aaron. 

+++

The bastard slit his throat. 

Fuck. 

The look on Aaron’s face is nothing short of disgust, and you’re sure yours matches. 

+++

You’re waiting for him when he walks out of the operating room. His eyes are hollow and they seem to look through you rather than at you. 

“Hotch - Aaron - I’m so sorry.” 

You didn’t particularly like Kate, but you know how much he cared for her. His pain often feels like yours - even more frequently, you can't parse his from yours. While you didn’t expect to mourn her, you find that weight in your belly anyway. Your eyes mist up against your will, your breath hitching in your throat. 

He doesn’t say anything, and your voice is almost desperate when you ask, “What can I do?”

Brown eyes flicker around the room. He looks more like a caged animal in this moment than in any other you’ve ever seen. You approach him slowly, and you’re not sure if he heard you. There’s still blood on his neck from his ear, and you’re terrified he’s lost his hearing for good. 

“Aaron?”

He finally acknowledges you when you’re close enough to him to take his hand. You catch him as he wilts, pressing a hand to the back of his head as he tucks his head into your neck. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Aaron.” 

He mumbles something into your shoulder, and you lean back, holding him up with your hands on his biceps. 

“What?”

“Call Haley. Tell her, please. They got along really well. She’d want to know.” 

You nod and guide him to a chair. He sits heavily, tilting his head against the wall. Pulling your phone from your belt, you ask, “Do you want me to stay here?”

He nods, his eyes closed. 

You dial the familiar number and hold the phone to your ear, settling down on his left so he can hear. 

Haley answers the phone, a question at the end of your name. 

“Yeah, Haley, it’s me. Hi.” 

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

You look at Aaron, who’s still and quiet beside you. “Not really.” 

“I heard about the bombing in New York, the murders...Is everyone alright?”

“We’re alright. Aaron’s fine - some mild injuries but nothing serious.” 

“Okay?” You hear the unspoken question. Then why are you calling?

“I was told you’d - um.” You take a deep breath, and it catches. Aaron flips his hand palm-up on his knee, and you take it. “I was told you were close with Kate Joyner, from the New York field office. She used to be at Scotland Yard?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Her voice falters. “Wait. Oh, God…”

“Haley I’m so sorry.” You swallow some tears. “I’m so sorry, but she was killed in the bombing.” 

You hear a shaky breath on the other side of the line. “Oh.” There’s a pause, and you suspect she has more to say. You’re right. “Aaron told you to call, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” 

She sighs. “Can I talk to him?”

You look over and he nods, releasing your hand and holding it out for the phone. “Yeah, he’s right here.” She says something else, and you put the phone back to your ear. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for telling me.” 

You nod to yourself. “Of course. Here’s Aaron.” 

He takes the phone from you. An exhausted, “Hi,” leaves him. 

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re alright.” 

A little smile pulls at his lips. “I’m alright. How’re you?”

Her bright laugh echoes faintly through the phone, but there’s a solemn edge to it. “You’re asking me how I am?”

His eyebrows rise, his eyes still closed. “Isn’t that polite?”

You can almost see her suppressed smile. “It is. I’m fine. Jessica and I just finished dinner and put Jack down for the night.” 

“How’s Jack?”

You tune out, the exhaustion taking over. Aaron pats the seat on his other side and you shuffle around, tucking yourself under his open arm. Leaning against his shoulder, you close your eyes, letting the voices of two divorced people who love each other very much lull you into something that feels a little like sleep. 

+++

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[beardedmrbean]

Rapper PnB Rock, an up-and-coming hip-hop artist from Philadelphia, was fatally shot Monday afternoon during a robbery at Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles in South Los Angeles, police sources told ABC News. He was 30 years old.

Although the Los Angeles Police Department did not officially name the victim, sources at the LAPD told ABC News on Monday evening that the rapper, whose legal name is Rakim Hasheem Allen, was the victim seen in social media videos of the incident captured by witnesses.

The rapper was at the South LA eatery with his girlfriend and according to social media posts, their location was reportedly shared on social media in since-deleted messages.

Police said they received a call about a shooting at 1:23 p.m. ET and found a male victim with gunshot wounds. He was transported to an area hospital. According to the LAPD, the victim and a woman were eating in the restaurant when they were approached by at least one suspect who pulled a firearm demanding property. The suspect shot the victim multiple times, removed property and left in a getaway car, according to police.

"What occurred was the victim, along with a female witness, were in this area eating at a restaurant when they were approached by at least one suspect, who brandished a firearm and demanded property from the victim," LAPD Capt. Kelly Muniz said during a Monday afternoon press conference. "The suspect then shot the victim multiple times, and removed property and then left the location in a getaway car."

Muniz said that multiple shots were fired, and that others on the scene were not injured.

When asked about reports that Allen's location was shared on social media ahead of the robbery, Muniz said, "We always are gonna look into the social media," but added that police couldn't "verify" that yet.

LAPD detectives are aware of a social media post where his location was tagged, sources told ABC News and police said they are examining surveillance video to identify potential suspects.

The rapper reflected on previous robbery attempts that he experienced in Los Angeles during a Sept. 2 interview on the podcast "Off the Record with DJ Akademiks."

Allen said that he was targeted while he was out with his girlfriend and their daughter.

"Somebody shot me on Fairfax, like, mid-pandemic," he said.

Asked by host DJ Akademiks if they were trying to take his jewelry, Allen said, "I don't know," but noted the boldness of robbery attempts in the city.

"Where I'm from, we like sneaky criminals," he said. "In L.A. it's like they bold."

"I flagged him off and I walked out the store," he said, reflecting on how he tried to diffuse the situation.

Asked if he was nervous, Allen said that he tries to "be cool" because he was with his family.

"You want to be as calm as possible," he said.

Allen and DJ Akademiks, whose legal name is Livingston Allen, noted that rappers often get targeted in robberies, especially for their jewelry.

"I never got robbed, ever in my life," Allen said. "I ain't gonna say never because I don't like saying never. I'm not superstitious or nothing like that, but I haven't been robbed."

"That's why I feel like L.A.'s spooky, man," Akademiks said. "It's just so bold."

"Broad daylight, that's when they really do it," he added.

"It's just a new generation. Everybody is on some demon s--," Allen said.

Although it is unclear whether the suspect or suspects in the case were aware of the rapper's location ahead of time, his killing launched a conversation about the dangers of tagging locations on social media.

Fans reflected on other robberies where celebrities were targeted after sharing their locations, including Kim Kardashian who was robbed in Paris in 2016 and the late rapper Pop Smoke, who was killed in Feb. 2020 in an attempted robbery at his Hollywood Hills home after he shared his location.

Allen, an independent artist, gained popularity on SoundCloud and released a number of hits that charted on the Billboard Hot 100. He was featured in XXL Magazine's Freshman Class of rappers to watch in 2017.

He is known for songs like "Selfish" and "Cross Me," featuring Chance the Rapper, which have hundreds of millions of streams on Spotify. He released his latest single, "Luv Me Again," on Sept. 2.