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ebiemidnightlibrarian · 3 years ago

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Cornucopia | II — Castimonium III | Father Paul X Fem!Reader | English

SUMMARY | AO3 | MY MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: Miriam goes to the Ash Wednesday Mass and the Crock Pot Luck, and feel that maybe her faith have some chance of redemption; She meets Hassan and tries to convince the good Sheriff to help her investigate the island. She drowns herself in a certain pair of brown eyes.

Chapter Title: Castimonium (/castīmōniae/; latin): abstinence; abstinence (sexual/from meat) for ritual; purity of morals; chastity.

Warnings: Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Past Religious Trauma, Mentions of Xenophobia, Religious Imagery, Dialogues from the Show, Mentions of Blood, Minor Mentions of feeding your dog with inappropriate food, Minor Mentions of Animal Death, Minor Mentions of Alcoholism.

Word Count: 12.7K (Yeah, I know, this is HUGE)

Note: Skin, hair and body descriptions were purposely vague, everything has been handled as vague as possible so that everything can be read as a reader fic.

Again, English isn’t my mother language, so I’m sorry for any orthography or writing mistakes you might find.

A/N: I should have mentioned this in chapter 1, but anyway, let's see… Here's the thing, I was raised Catholic, but in name only, you know? Honestly, I've only been to church five times in twenty years, four seventh-day services and the opening of a family-founded chapel. That said, it's not like I've really suffered from religion, as I know some people have.

In general, Catholicism was only a thorn in my side during my teen years for a variety of reasons, so if the way the OFC deals with their faith seems vague, that's because I'm putting my point of view in theirs.

I have my share of childhood traumas linked to religion (just a few, mostly about my sexuality), but nothing that has made me completely abandon the feeling of faith has only made it numb. What I mean is that every part where I describe the OFC's reactions to Paul's sermon was my own, watching the series.

Having said that, I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next one might take a while to come out, but I'll do what I can to prevent that. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND KINDNESS!!

THE WOODEN FLOOR at the entrance to the Church of St. Patrick's creaked under her foot. The scent of incense, paraffin, and varnish filled Miriam's nostrils as soon as she entered the church aisle.

That was, in a way, familiar. So many people filled the varnished pews, sharing their faith as they waited hopefully for an answer to their prayers. Harper remembered walking into St. Agnes weekly, obediently sitting on the third bench from the left, praying for the day to come when she would get rid of that place.

Not the worst of memories, she rationalized.

Miriam walked calmly around the side of the church, she was slightly late, but it was clear that the mass had not yet started due to the incessant hustle. Scanning the people seated on the benches, the young woman looked for Erin Greene among the islanders. As soon as her eyes landed on the expectant mother, she felt an unwanted shiver run down her spine as she heard the voice of the last person she wanted to talk to.

“Well, I certainly did not expect to see you here, Miss. Harper.” Beverly Keane's squeaky, smugly sugary voice seemed to poke holes in the accountant's ears.

Slowly, Miriam turned to face the deaconess. With an equally sugary smile on her face, the young woman took a few steps closer. Her shrewd eyes returned to Bev, she was wearing some sort of white ceremonial clause, so long it almost swept the floor. The sunlight streaming through the church's glass windows cast a shadow against the deaconess. That strange detail unnerved another shiver down Miriam's back. Taking a deep breath, the young woman greeted the devotee.

“Good morning, Miss. Keane.” Greeted the accountant, her tone mimicking the sickeningly sweet tone the woman in white customarily used with her, the condescending timbre of someone confident in the certainty of being God's favourite. “In fact, it is not common for me to come to Mass, but I was so kindly invited by Father Paul. That I felt compelled to come and witness one of his much-lauded homilies.” Miriam gave a discreet emphasis when she mentioned the fact that she had been invited, an emphasis she knew the deaconess would not miss.

“I see.” The sugary smile Bev gave her faded and turned sour at the mention of the dark-haired priest. “I found it curious that someone who so openly despises Catholic dogmas should deign to set foot in a church of their own free will. Isn’t that just a guess?” The deaconess clasped her slender hands in front of her, a lopsided smile painting the freckles across her face.

“I assure you, Miss. Keane, that I didn't feel any burning on my heathen skin as I passed through the entrance arch,” the young accountant told her, a simple gaze brushing the orbs, as if innocently not noticing the sarcasm in the words.

Miriam normally harboured a demure tenacity in her responses to the deaconess, but this particular morning she felt especially astute. Beverly Keane grinned, not amused at the insult uttered, but still she didn't give up and very subtly tilted her neck, studying the robes the woman in front of her wore. A slight look of disapproval twisting her face.

Despite not wanting to, Miriam let her gaze stray to her own clothes. Her robes weren't flashy. She was slipping into a plain leaf green dress that stopped just past her knees, — knees that were covered in long, dark-coloured tights for the sole purpose of shielding her legs from the icy breeze. The cleavage she possessed mimicked the clothes that peasant women used to wear. It exposed her bust and shoulders, but she had remembered to cover them with a knitted shawl in the same colour, thick enough in case the weather changed. Or even in case she got some unwanted looks, such as the one the deaconess sent her.

She looked decent, nothing that could be considered vulgar, but obviously Bev had looked at her as if she were wearing a hooker's clothes. Arching an eyebrow, the young woman waited for the deaconess to utter the insult she so clearly wanted. Beverly pretended not to understand the questioning look sent her. The obvious trepidation pricked Miriam's patience.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, still using the condescending tone the deaconess used when addressing her. However, there was a hint of impatience in the words that escaped the young woman. The deaconess smiled.

With a deep inhalation, Miriam shoved her hands into the front pockets of her dress and glanced toward the organist as he began to play one of the hymns from the red hymnal. The murmurs and whispers that filled the church were suddenly silenced. That seemed enough to wake Bev from her silent judgment.

“None. Well, at least, coming to church, maybe, you don't rethink your faith. After all, Lent is a time of repentance.”, she said with a lopsided smile and a nod. The deaconess began to move toward her usual spot in front of the altar, each step firm, an irritating cockiness in the way she moved.

There was a clear contempt in the way she had pronounced the words 'repentance' and 'lent', but not a contempt per se, directed at the words, as if they represented something repugnant, but something more subjective, the disgust and decadent look were directed at the woman with whom she spoke. Miriam, at that moment, assumed that, definitively and utterly, she didn't like Beverly Keane. She also concluded that she was okay with the deaconess not liking her either. Mutual displeasure was indeed simpler to deal with than one-sided displeasure.

“Certainly Ms. Keane. Certainly…”, her exasperated whisper, was covered by the chorus of voices fervently intoning the anthem.

There weren't enough people to fill all the seats, but enough to allow Harper to feel a slightly agonizing feeling of claustrophobia. With steady strides, Miriam took her place beside Erin with a sigh. A knowing look was exchanged between them, the curly woman having spotted the small, disgusted interaction with the outrageous warrior of Christ. Handling her wrist, the pregnant woman turned the hymnal of a vibrant red between them so that both could sing the hymn.

Miriam felt an agony seize her breath, as if there wasn't enough air in that small nave, lit by the golden rays of morning. The melancholy lyrics weighed heavily on the woman's tongue. Taking a deep breath, she caught in her peripheral vision a purple figure beside her. A deep, smoky voice sounding beside her, the very words she chanted so dispassionately.

The priest had his chin resting on the tips of his long fingers, his forehead bowed to the central crucifix. Tiptoeing, the cleric climbed the short staircase that led to the altar, but not without first bowing to his Lord. The purple clause licked the floor as the priest bowed, and returned to hover low to the floor once he rose to his full height.

Miriam could smell the lemongrass and myrrh from the thurible in Warren's hands burning its way into her lungs. The entire devoted chorus of voices fell silent as the good priest took his place behind the pulpit, the organist having stopped playing just before each had taken their seats.

Affectionate warmth spread through Paul's chest as his eyes landed on the small female figure dressed in green. In a way, his awkward visit to the newcomer's abode had inspired him to improve his homily. The preacher in his mind hoped she would appreciate his words.

His dark eyes then darted from the accountant to the growing huddle of worshippers in front of him, honest joy pumping through his veins at the sight. Once again the word of God was becoming necessary and present in the peaceful lives of each one of those individuals of faith who prostrated themselves before him, and once again he would be the messenger of good news to the people of the Lord.

“It's great to see so many of you here today,” he began, his deep, rich voice reverberating through the church aisle effortlessly. “But I do have to ask, why not every Sunday?” The rhetorical question had a graceful air on his lips. His big brown eyes pierced the faces of the faithful in attendance, a little doubt in some of those who didn't usually show up on a weekly basis.

Harper listened to his words, curious to have proof of the validity of Erin's praise. Still, she was lost for a moment in the lighting coming from the window beside the pulpit, the faint gray light adorning the priest's thick black curls like a kind of halo. A silly smile curved her lips without her awareness.

“Christmas, Easter, I get that,” continued the man of God. “But there’s also always an uptick around the start of Lent.” His long fingers played briefly with the red ribbon that demarcated the pages of holy scripture. “Why’s that? What's so special today?” His hands forgot the marker and hovered in the air in front of him momentarily.

The young newcomer watched with unquestioning attention the subtle enthusiasm that hovered in every word uttered by the good priest. The way the man moved his hands, gesticulating as he spoke, and the expectant glint that gleamed in the dark pools of his eyes was almost youthful. Miriam saw a man passionate about his mission.

“Ash Wednesday, beginning of Lent. It's hardly a crowd pleaser.” His rich voice wore a chaste smile at the comment. Both hands rested on the pulpit, a deep inhalation followed, a pause. “The beginning of repentance, making amends for our sins.” Paul averted his eyes the slightest bit from everyone, his gaze wandering briefly to the Holy book in front of him.

There was a weight on his chest. Guilt.

“Sin,” looking up, the word slipped from the preacher's lips just as his orbs inconveniently fell on Miriam.

Harper caught the restrained look the good priest had sent her, the contrition of the word slipping into her mind like a fungus. Her serene expression was slightly disturbed by a confused little crease between her brows. She wondered if he did it intentionally, but the seed of insecurity shouldn't take root, not about this. She blinked a few times to clear her mind as she continued to listen to him.

“This darkness, this blackness that spilled into us.” His tone carries a strange shadow, as do his eyes, a glimpse of the demons guarded in his mind, his conscience heavy. “That darkness, we wear it on our forehead today.” A flick of his hand towards his forehead, a glance at the spot where dear Millie used to be.

The restless shadow that momentarily reflects in the priest's eyes does not escape Miriam's perception. A feeling of familiarity lodged in her chest. There was something about Paul that disturbed her, something she still couldn't name. The most beautiful flowers also have their thorns, the saying rips her mind. Maybe there was something in her soul that shared that thing in his brown eyes, but it was too early to tell.

“Just a smudge of it. Uh…” Paul trailed off for a moment, the scrape of a mournful voice in the back of his mind, derailing his thoughts.

His eyes seek focus on the small, reddened notebook he's jotted down his sermon in, the yellowed pages and the words written on them drowning out the angel's whispers.

“A smudge of death, of ash, of sin for repentance.”, another gesture of his pianist's hand, which soon returned to firm itself in the varnished wood of the pulpit. “Because of where this is all actually heading, which is Easter. Rebirth, resurrection, eternal life. Life that rises again.” There is a clarity in the way he pronounces the words, a timely sincerity that imparts serenity to those who listen. So many years on the job must have drained him, but since his miracle, his faith had been renewed, as had he.

The words are crystal clear, each one expressing a singular purpose, a chaste intention to reinvigorate the faith of those people who so often faced disgrace. Miriam allowed herself to look away from the messenger and pay attention to the way each believer absorbed the Word. The priest's booming voice continues his sermon.

“Even out of blackness, love rises again,” the resurrected messenger intones the words with conviction, a welcome musicality peppering an extra layer of vigor into his message. “Even out of sin. And this island, it will rise again.” A new wave of pure contentment is injected through his veins as he watches the emotional faces of those he has known so intimately for so many years.

Harper feels a brief excitement well up in her core, her long-forgotten faith moving ever so slightly, an affable hope ignited by the dark-haired priest's words.

“Even out of disaster, rebirth, restoration, eternal life.” As he utters those words once more, Paul almost breaks away from the uncertainty that he is right in his mission, the fire of his own faith rekindling mournfully. God chose him, gifted him, and the gift should be shared. “Jesus sees you.” His voice rises, his ebony orbs fondly studying each slightly refreshed face. “Sees you, best of all, and he sees you true.” He flicked his wrist again, gesturing to no one in particular.

Miriam looked closely at the faces of the islanders. Ed Flynn, who sat forward, was nodding with conviction, the scorching pride of his faith reflected in his drooping gaze. His wife, sweet Anne, had a bluish handkerchief pressed up to her nostrils, a fervent emotion pushing tears into her pale eyes. There was a passion contained in that sermon, realizing it spread a welcoming warmth in the newcomer's chest, the words moved something inside her. Looks like I still have some chance of redemption, don't I? She thought, her shrewd gaze straying to the crucified Jesus in front of the altar.

“Because, don’t forget, who did he seek out?” His tone had risen an octave, the lyrical excitement gradually taking hold of him. “Who did he turn to, to build his church? His apostles.”, the good cleric could no longer contain his own delight in recognizing the joy of belief in the teary eyes of those people. His people. “Jesus' first disciples, they were fishermen. One of his first miracles, right?” His hands, once restrained on the pulpit, now gesticulated expansively, like a conductor's ghost. The clause sleeves fluttering around him.

Harper's heart pounded with the passion of the words he spoke. She reflected on the weight that passionate homily had on the island's residents. It was certainly moving to watch these people nurture their belief so beautifully, even for her.

“The nets are empty, fishermen desperate. Jesus said, 'Put out into deep water and let down your nets for a catch’, and when they pulled up those nets, amounts of fish.”, the smile that painted his face and his voice singing was capable of lighting up an entire city. “He sees you.” In his voice was a relentless conviction, bringing tears to the eyes of the children he had seen grow up. “Oh yes, he sees you, brothers and sisters, and he will resurrect this island, and he will fill your nets.” Hope gleamed in the parishioners' eyes. Looking forward to having your prayers finally heard.

Paul felt nourished. Nourished by the love of God, and he now had his heart warmed by the love of his parish.

“It’s great you’re here today, but please keep coming back.”, the presbytery pleaded in its lilting voice, a polite plea for them not to lose faith. “Those doors, they’re always open, as the gates are always open. You just bring yourself. God will do the rest.”, the good priest wished his beloved parishioners to remain resolute. Blessings would come. “As Psalm 60 tells us, ‘God, You have rejected us, You have broken us down, You have been angry. Restore us again.'” His ebony orbs rose to the heavens, emphasizing his speech.

They'll need your faith intact for what's to come, a voice similar to his, — but not his —, whispered in his mind. God's chosen must show that faith is to be rewarded, another rather more sullen voice covered his own thoughts for not less than an instant. A chill ran down his spine and there was a heaviness in his chest.

Suddenly, there was a slightly overwhelming energy in the church. Miriam could feel the constricting of air in her lungs, the cosy warmth that had covered her chest evaporated into an awkward feeling, an uncomfortable heaviness, one that only she seemed to cherish. A shiver snaked through her back and she shifted uncomfortably against the old wooden bench. She averted her eyes to the red hymnal in front of her, one hand running involuntarily over the white coats of her rosary.

“Do you know what psalms are? They're songs.” Paul turned his gaze to the believers listening to him, their orbs reflecting a now dimmed glow. “The word psalm from the Greek psalmoi. It means ‘music’.”, the bows that his hand executed, slightly waved his clause, giving the impression of being the slender fan of a blue bird. “Songs of prayer. Songs of praise.” The musicianship had found its way back into his voice. “That's who we are. That's who we must be.” As a true and experienced preacher, Paul presided over the mass hypnotically, everyone's eyes fixed on him and his persuasive words.

Each small pearly dimension marked its spherical shape in the young woman's fingers. A deep breath of closed eyes, and she returned the orbs to the cloth man at the altar. Miriam no longer felt the strange sensation, as suddenly as it came, it was gone in the musicality of the priest's voice, leaving in its wake a strange feeling of disturbance, the kind you get just after hearing an abnormal noise in a house where only you reside.

“That’s what it means to have faith,” a deep breath, and then his eyes dropped to the figure in green once more. “That in the darkness, in the worst of it, in the absence of light and hope, we sing.”, An involuntary smile paints his face at the end of the sentence. “‘Restore us,’ we sing to the sky. And He will, my friends. He will.” Averting his gaze from the huddled female form in the background, he turned his gaze to the open Bible, the shimmering glow of the gold-edged pages soothing his mind, drowning out the voice and the weight of his gift. “That same hand that dealt you your hardship, that same hand will make you whole.” And with the same serenity with which it began, his homily ended.

There was a long silence after the sermon ended. Each parishioner absorbed the good priest's refreshing words in silence. And for what felt like the first time in months, Miriam's mind was completely and utterly silent. There was no paperwork, no cat corpses, no anxiety, no grief. Just a sepulchral silence in her awareness.

She remembered those moments of strange peace. As much as she harboured a contempt for the way she had spent her years in St. Agnes, Miriam had bittersweet memories of her times of solitude in the boarding school's small, dark chapel. However, this time, a feeling of familiarity blossomed. Her mind fast-forwarding to the Sundays her mother took her to church, her youthful self little interested in the old abbot's words. She recalled with a slight frown that on the way home, Lyanna had made a point of explaining to her every parable the abbot had quoted during his sermon.

The gloomy notes of the organ suddenly pulled her out of her mournful reverie, along with Erin's harmonious voice murmuring her name. Looking up, — having blinked a few plaintive tears away —, Miriam paid attention around her. A line of parishioners had quickly formed, up ahead, at the head of the line, was Father Paul. The purple clause demarcating his presence. He patiently blessed with a blackened cross the forehead of every link in that chain of faith.

“Are you okay?” Erin asked with her brows drawn together in her typical maternal concern. Harper smiled weakly, and nodded, stroking the expectant mother's hand that was touching her forearm.

“Yes, just,” the woman considered her words, it would not be appropriate to fill the expectant young woman of hopeful eyes with her melancholy. She shook her head once more, purging some unwanted thoughts. “… taking it all in. You were right to sing him praises.” A simple smile curves her full lips, and Erin gives her a look that says, “I told you so.”

Both women rose from their seats and positioned themselves in the row of sinners. On instinct, Miriam wraps herself more tightly in her shawl. The smoky voice of the black-haired priest creeps into her ears, reverberating through the damp-swollen woodwork of the church and back again, in a ghostly echo.

“Ben, remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

With each step closer to her blessing, a disconcerting tightness crept into her chest. Since the visit the good priest had paid her, Miriam had not seen him in the days that followed, the unspoken tension that had built up on the day in question never being undone. Besides, against her better judgment and self-control, her restless mind began to trouble her with at least profane images about the black-haired priest.

“Fiona, remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

Impure thoughts in the house of God? You will burn if he touches you. A cruel, childish voice scratched at her brain. Having the main agent of such thoughts so close to her could certainly provoke an unconscious reaction in her, something that would give her away. This particular line of reasoning sent an embarrassed shudder through her body. Calm down, it's just a blessing, it's not like you're going to combust. An irritating voice whispered in her mind, giving her some reason. Her tense shoulders cause a numb throb in her neck.

The next step was taken, Erin prostrated herself in front of the vicar, her delicate hands clasped under her chin in reverence. Taking a deep breath and straightening her posture, Miriam felt the priest's voice vibrate within her bones.

“Erin, remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

Once the pregnant woman took a step to the side, crossing herself, and returned through the pews to her place among the parishioners. Miriam inhaled deeply, taking a step forward. The green-clad woman kept her eyes down on her black boots, the same mud-stained boots she'd acquired the first day she set foot on that island. The wooden floor looked worn and unkempt beneath her small heels. The distance is less than a step between her and the priest.

“Miriam, remember you are dust…”, his resonant voice trailed off. He had his fist raised to the height of her forehead, yet he stopped, his thumb dipped in dark ash flush with the skin of her forehead, but never touching. Paul wanted to look her in the eye when he blessed her.

A doubt scratched the surface of her mind. Why did he stop? An inconvenient blush crept up the newcomer's cheeks as she reluctantly lifted her shy gaze from the wood floor to the priest's warm ebony irises, she prayed her eyes wouldn't give her away.

Paul was staring at her tenderly, a stubborn lock of black hair hanging disobediently in front of those huge eyes of his. Harper inhaled deeply as she faced him, a dizzying sensation lapping at her skin. The woody scent of sandalwood, myrrh, and something minty like mint filled her lungs abundantly, the scent intensifying as the cloth man moved, tracing his thumb across her forehead, smearing her with the mark of sin.

“And to dust you shall return.”, a warmth covered the words that flowed from the priest's well-designed lips. He lowered his fist, his brown orbs about to engulf the woman in front of him. Paul studied her face, wanting to keep the sight of the lovely blush that covered her cheeks to himself. “Bless you, child.”, he uttered in a subtly knowing tone, after a moment of silence.

Their gazes held for a few moments longer than would be considered appropriate. Miriam lowered her eyes, a trembling hand crossing herself, her face so hot it felt like it was burning. Her heart in her chest resembled a caged sparrow, a heavy breath later, she found her voice.

“Amen.”

The mass did not take long to end after the blessing. In a way, there was a general anxiety on the part of all those present to be early to the end of the service so that they could enjoy the community event for a longer time.

Miriam felt her hands damp in her pockets. A few minutes had passed, her heartbeat had slowed, and as she got up to leave, she hoped Erin hadn't noticed how the measly touch on her forehead had disconcerted her. With a deep breath, she composed herself, eager to leave the oppressive environment she was in. Before she could even set foot outside the church, Harper felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, what a good thing to see you here, Miss. Harper!” Wade said with a smile on his face. Miriam turned, the tension in her shoulders causing a small, fleeting cramp in her neck.

There was an awkward moment when Miriam's eyes landed on the mayor. He looked slightly younger than she remembered, it looked like even some of the gray hairs that had sprouted at his temples and coloured his moustache were gone. The accountant blinked a few times. No, it's all in your head, maybe he just figured it out how to paint them naturally. Anyway, that wasn't the only reason she felt uncomfortable in the politician's presence.

Her investigation into Crockett Island's financial woes turned out not to be limited to just the 'Bev Keane Money Laundering Center' — as Joe had kindly dubbed it. In fact, according to her most recent information there were years of fiduciary fraud going on, on the Island, and not coincidentally, such fraud had started in the records of the year that dated Wade Scarborough's first election as mayor. It was ridiculous how often this sort of thing happened in small towns. After all, if there are no opponents you are always sure to be elected, then there is no reason to worry about having your illicit activities discovered.

Miriam's gaze shifted from the mayor to the two figures behind him: Dolly and Leeza. She wondered if the Mayoress knew her husband was corrupt. She felt sorry for Leeza, after all she would be the most harmed if Dolly knew, and they were both arrested.

“Good morning, Mayor Scarborough. Mrs. Scarborough, Leeza.” Miriam disguised her concern with her best friendly tone and greeted everyone. The young woman in the wheelchair had a bright smile on her face as she waved at the accountant.

The youthful glint in Leeza's eyes returned to Dolly, to whom she whispered something indistinct and expectant. The bespectacled woman nodded, watching her daughter make her way happily towards the altar boys and young Ali. They all smiled in an excitement that only youth can provide.

Harper looked back at the mayor a moment later, her orbs having followed Leeza.

“It's a great thing to have you here,” Dolly said, taking a few steps closer, her slender fingers pushing the clear stem of her glasses back to where they slipped. Miriam kept a thin smile on her lips, not wanting to let her contempt for the mayor's actions show on her face.

“It was a beautiful homily indeed, I haven't heard anything this refreshing since Christmas.” Wade's voice sounded slightly choked, as if he'd cried at the priest's words not long before he addressed her.

“Yes…”, an almost imperceptible blush stained the young woman's skin at the unwelcome memory of the light touch left on her forehead. “Father Paul has a gift for words.” Her voice was serene, but there was an affection that reached only her eyes. She admired how eloquent the man was, of that there was no doubt.

“I'm glad to hear that.”, the priest's booming voice sounded, as if he had been evoked with the mere mention of the name, Paul appeared behind Dolly, Erin followed him and in her beautiful face she had a shrewd look at Miriam.

The expectant mother turned to her lodger with a smile, casting a suggestive look between her and the clergy. Erin said goodbye to the good priest, Dolly, and the mayor, walking with an even more suggestive smile away from the group. The couple did not take long to leave either, both holding hands in calm strides in the direction where their offspring had gone.

Harper's cheeks felt hot, but she didn't let the feeling of self-consciousness overwhelm her this time. Keeping her back straight, she took the remaining steps to exit the interior of the church. A fresh breath of air filling her lungs with the smell of sea air and burnt lemongrass. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the calm for a moment, the warmth of a body beside her bringing her back to the present.

“So you came.” There was a smile curving the priest's lips, a gentle warmth once more spread through his being at the sight of her.

Paul kept his hands clasped in front of his body and studied carefully the way the accountant's face had softened, her hair held on the sides by bobby pins releasing a few strands that caressed the young woman's face. He looked down momentarily for fear of being caught staring when she turned her eyes to him. He scolded himself for his childish behaviour and looked up at the fair that began ahead, around the city's founding monument.

“I said I would.”, she replies with a shy smile, taking a hand out of her pocket to adjust some unruly strands of her hair that had escaped her bobby pins. “I don't say this just to please you, since lying isn't really my thing, but…”, Miriam pondered her words and turned fully to the priest, an absolutely serious look in her eyes. “It was the best sermon I ever heard,” she declares seriously. The accountant smiles as she sees him smother a laugh, a rosy colour covering his cheeks.

“I'll be spoiled if this continues.”, Paul nods, laughing at the ridiculously serious tone she gave the sentence. For a moment, he really feared he'd let her down. His own smile widens when he sees her smiling at his foolishness.

“I'm serious,” a female hand rises dramatically towards her chest to emphasize her speech. “You almost converted me.��, she says with a smile, seeing him bite his lip and shake his head a little at the affirmation. “Almost. There was very little left.”, Her sweet voice has a humorous tone, and she symbolizes with her hands the little that was missing for her so-called ‘conversion’.

“It's a pity my plan to bring this sheep back to the fold has failed.” There is a subtlety in the pronunciation of the words, a delicate sarcasm coupled with the unconvincing way in which it was spoken.

“More luck next time, Father.”, she murmurs with a half smile. There's a biting timbre to her voice, a slight sarcasm. Taking a deep breath, she shoves her hands in her pockets again. An icy breeze makes her shiver.

He lowers his eyes for a moment with a slight smile, turning back to face her a little later. There was an unusual beauty about the young woman, a melancholy that crept into her features, as if there was a strange pain that kept her always at bay, her overworked mind taking her to a dark place, away from the present, away from him.

She looked a lot healthier since the last time he saw her. In the shinier, flowing locks of hair, her skin had a healthier tone, and her lips looked more flushed and smoother than ever. A heretical memory crept through the meanderings of his mind, and he cringed in the slightest. Lust is your new virtue? Will you shame God by breaking your vows, Father? Paul shudders at the dark whisper that pollutes his mind.

Miriam took a step down the steps of St. Patrick, and the glimpse of movement was enough for him to force himself to deviate from that train of thought.

His watchful eyes then capture the rather distant figure of Sheriff Hassan, he is approaching slowly, one hand smoothing the back of his brown neck as if to expunge the tension from his shoulders, the other tucked in his pocket. Harper seems to notice him too, as she takes another step closer to the lawman.

Spread the word… You still have a flock, Father, forget about the straying sheep, the voice of the messenger sent by the lord scratched in his mind. The good priest blinked once hard and watched as Hassan approached. The whispers getting angrier in his mind.

“Good morning, Father Paul,” greeted the policeman with a restrained wave, his black eyes turning in the accountant's direction. “Miriam.”

Harper waved back at him, a patient, suddenly tired smile curving her lips. With her hands still in her pockets, she turned to the priest, her gaze dropping before meeting him, an almost imperceptible blush staining her cheeks.

“Well, I-” Miriam is suddenly interrupted by the squeaky voice of a very prim Bev Keane from inside the church. She no longer wore her ceremonial robes and seemed energetic to introduce her pastor to the local customs.

“Oh! Father, finally.” Her freckled face flashes a cheek-splitting smile for Paul, but as soon as her green eyes fall on the newcomer and the sheriff, she stiffens.

“Well, is there a problem, Sheriff?” she asks, stepping in front of the priest, putting herself in the path between him and the muslim policeman as if she were a shield against the two heathens ahead.

“None, Bev. I'm here to see the event. I saw Ms. Harper, and I took the opportunity to speak with her. We have some things to talk about.” Hassan spoke in a calm tone, exchanging a knowing look with the accountant, hands on hips, at the sudden appearance of the deaconess.

“Exactly.” Miriam began, amending the good sheriff's line. “And I was talking to Father Paul, but I don't want to rob him of his duties. Well…”, she casts a glance in the direction of the purple-clad cleric. “See you later, Father. Ms. Keane.” A restrained nod to both of them and she walks towards the festival, seeing Hassan follow her with a glance over her shoulder. “Having fun?” she asked the lawman with a smile. He snorted briefly.

“The food doesn't look bad,” he begins, taking his hands off his hips and tucking them into the pockets of his blue jeans, shrugging. “The greengrocers don't have anything very different, you know, antiques, flowers, handmade candles… Ali made me buy something in each one of them. He even made me buy a bar of green tea acne soap.” He pulls a brown paper wrapper from a jacket pocket and displays it briefly before putting it back.

“Ali seems like a good boy. Give him a break, he's just wanting to participate.”, Miriam says with a smile curving her lips. She looks up from the unkempt lawn to look around, taking in her surroundings.

The sun is no longer shrouded by heavy rain clouds, its golden rays barely shining, glistening in the white tents of the small greengrocers arranged around the town monument. Flowers, soaps, handmade candles and antiques dot each one. The devout residents of that tiny island crowded among the tents, smiling, drinking and eating to the tune of a local folk band called 'Timmy & The Whack Shack'.

Miriam recognized the lead singer, he was at mass right behind her. A laugh escaped her nose. Hassan looked at her questioningly for a moment as they made their way to the liquor store. He followed her gaze and smiled weakly.

“No cars, or digital files, or any technology that didn't become obsolete in the nineties, but still… They have a folk band. A fucking folk band living right here in Crockett. This is amazing. I'm stuck in a David Pinner book!” Harper exclaimed, raising her eyebrows with an incredulous laugh, earning the looks of a few people who heard her outrage.

“Wonders never cease.” muttered the sheriff, exasperated.

Without delay, as they approached the small makeshift wooden counter, — where a large aluminium barrel rested —, blue drink tickets were handed to them, restrained greetings were extended to the sheriff. Politely, Hassan declined his notes and Miriam accepted hers, even though she had no intention of using them.

Her peripheral vision caught the squat, gangly figure of Joe Collie, hunched over one end of the counter, his scraggly beard and gray-blended moustache drowned in a beer glass. Hassan and Harper exchanged a worried look. As the sheriff walked away to have a few words with Joe, Miriam was more interested in the diligent animal playing with something in the grass.

When she got close enough, Miriam frowned as she saw Pike muzzle a piece of bread. The sausage had rolled away on the grass, and the dog was still lying down, trying to reach the pink chunk of meat. Lowering herself onto the grass, the accountant gained the animal's gleeful attention. She caressed his cheeks and the middle of his ears with one hand, while with the other she picked up the intact piece of bread and sausage. Before the dog could snatch her hand, she walked over to a dustbin next to a bench and threw the thing away.

Miriam had had a dog a few years ago. A huge tricolour fur Bernese named Bento. Harper loved him madly and loved stroking his long, shiny fur, but like anyone who had just had their first dog, she didn't have much of a sense of what he should or shouldn't eat. She would often give him some of her pasta during lunch, after all, Bento seemed to like it so much that it felt cruel not to share her food with her best friend. Over time, obviously, the animal's silky fur started to lose its shine and softness, and poor Bento started to have dandruff and hives due to his improper diet.

Shortly afterward, Lenz informed younger Miriam that she should never feed her dog with flour. The habit of avoiding this kind of food around dogs acted naturally on her, convincing Pike not to eat it.

Harper grimaced, wiping her hand of the dog's saliva from the back of the hem of her dress. Once she approached the dog, it wagged its tail, having risen from its comfortable spot on the fresh grass, only to nearly knock the woman over as it gleefully leapt on her.

“Hello, Pike.”, she smiled widely, balancing again on the small heels and stroking the animal's big head eagerly. “You shouldn't eat wheat, boy, it will make that beautiful fur of yours fall out.” Her voice held a sweet tone, as if Pike was actually a mischievous child and not a dog.

Bento was quite different from Pike, instead of being so gangly and playful, the Bernese was quiet and sleepy, but she decided to like Pike as much as she liked Bento.

She ran her fingers over the creature's thick, glossy fur, scratching with her nails, chin, and ears. When she stood up, Miriam took a few steps closer to Joe and Hassan, both of whom were watching the interaction without much interest.

“What did he have?” Joe asked, his voice still slightly choked, but this time from the alcohol. The dog happily approached its owner, sat proudly and diligently beside him, and received a caress on the chin.

“Someone must have dropped a hot dog. He was snooping around, but I managed to throw it away before he ate.” She gestured briefly towards the trash can.

Hassan stared at the animal gaily prostrate next to him, its big pink tongue hanging out, dripping saliva, almost in a smile.

“Don't let him eat anything that has wheat or sugar, it will make him sick.” Seeing Joe's brows knit, she decided to complete it. “My brother-in-law is a veterinarian, he told me the same thing when I had a dog.”, she pointed and reached into her pocket again.

“I'll remember that.” whispered the animal's owner. With this new information, the stocky old man turned his attention to his nearly empty beer glass with a wave.

Gesturing at the dark fur-covered creature, Miriam sat down on the nearby bench. Pike trotted interestedly toward her, ears pricked, attentive, as he sat on the accountant's feet, his long tongue darting out to lick his own muzzle as the woman began scratching her nails behind his ear.

Having finished his conversation with Joe Collie, Hassan walked over to the newcomer and sat down beside him.

“You don't have a brother-in-law,” he murmured to her in his deep, husky voice. “Actually you don’t even have a brother… or a sister.” She smiled, her discerning eyes very intent on the animal between her thighs.

“No, but I consider Abel my brother, which in turn makes his husband my brother-in-law,” she explained tersely, never taking her eyes off Pike. “It doesn't matter,” concluded the accountant, finally leaning back on the bench, shoulder to shoulder with the sheriff.

“Fair.” There was a pause, the soft air in the policeman's dark eyes fading. “What did Abel say about the files?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning closer to Miriam. His black orbs watched people farther away, making sure no one but them was listening.

Miriam took a deep breath, it was obvious that her peace would only last for a short time, after all, problems just don't solve themselves.

The day after the priest's unexpected visit, Miriam found part of the documentation that implied fiduciary fraud, the fraud that had arisen during the tenure of the current mayor of Crockett. This new information added an extra headache for the accountant, and she ended up emailing her cousin with the prints of the documentation. Abel, like the good lawyer he was, asked if there were any reliable law enforcement officers on the island that she could talk to. Thus, Hassan ended up being abruptly introduced into this situation.

It wasn't enough for Bev to persecute him and his faith, now he had confirmation that she had taken advantage of poor, deranged Pruitt's plight to steal money from the construction of the Recreation Center, overpricing the materials. Besides, less than a day ago, he'd discovered that not only Bev but the mayor had been looting the island's resources.

“It's enough to subpoena them, but I don't have the legal power to do that.”, Miriam says with a sigh, blinking slowly in Hassan's direction. She stared at him for a moment, hoping he would understand what she was asking of him.

“What exactly are you asking me for?” the good sheriff asked, a stern look on his face, dark brows drawn together tightly.

“I'm asking you to investigate. See if there's anything else we missed. There's a limit to what I can do, and I've already reached it.”, she looks him in the eyes heavily, there's a raw honesty in Miriam's voice. She doesn't seem happy to ask him to put himself in the line of fire, but she does anyway.

“Investigate, exactly what? Bev? The Recreation Center? City Hall and Mayor? My God, Miriam. Even St. Patrick?” Hassan shifts uncomfortably against the damp-swollen boards of the bench, his voice low, subdued, as he again traverses the surrounding area.

No intruders in sight.

He takes a deep breath, seeing the disgusted look traced on his companion's face.

“Did I ever tell you why I moved here?” he asks, turning a sideways glance at the blackened stain at the accountant's feet.

“No, I don't think so.” Miriam's voice trails off in response, tiredness digging into her words. She runs her fingers through her hair and pulls the shawl closer to her body, an uncomfortable feeling welling up in her chest.

“Didn’t tell anybody, now that I think about it.” A contemplative bitterness covers the sheriff's husky voice. He continues, his timbre taking on a dry tone. “It’s almost as if nobody asked.” He gestures with a strong hand briefly, then goes back to wrapping it around his biceps.

Suddenly, Miriam realizes that this will not be an easy conversation.

“You know, I was, um, 21 when the Towers went down.”, Hassan says, his voice getting lower and regretful. “Watched it on TV in my dorm room just weepin’” he continued, looking at the beaming faces of the children. “When I was a kid, I wasn’t religious at all, really. But I went to the mosque that day, because they had a blood drive, and the line went for blocks.” A flick of his strong wrist illustrated his speech.

Harper felt that initial embarrassment rise in her chest.

“I wanted to help. I wanted to protect this country.” Another wary look around and the sheriff continued, his disappointment reflected in the way his thick brows drew together. “So I moved to New York and enrolled in NYPD training. Now, some of my friends, they weren't happy.” A frown formed on his lips as Hassan shifted uncomfortably in the seat, glancing peripherally at the woman listening to him.

“‘The NYPD is against us,’ they’d say. But I’d tell them, 'No. You're wrong.'” A pause, a sigh, and the next breath of air brings with it the scent of lavender and cedar. “‘I’ll show them they don’t have to be afraid of us. I'll show them who we are.'’” Uncrossing his arms, Hassan sits more properly, now facing Miriam.

Harper couldn't look at him intently, so she stared at the small flaw he had in one eyebrow. She should have better considered what it would be like to ask for something of that scope from the good man who cooperated so much with her. She should have considered his position in that den of bigotry.

“So I worked my way up.” the sheriff gestured, his breathing steady but almost imperceptibly panting, exhausted. “You know, traffic, and translating and transcribing wiretaps, then Vice” He's gesturing with his brown hands, punctuating his words until he stops, looking away from her to his son.

“I get married. Ali is born, and I’m promoted again. Detective now.” Hassan turns his eyes heavy with weariness to the huddled figure beside him and sighs. “Top-Secret Security Clearance for the Joint Terrorism Task Force. I'm helping the FBI fight terrorists.” With another flick of his wrist he gestures, conviction in gesture and words.

“We’re taking collars. You know, petty stuff, pot, parking tickets and leaning on them hard if they’re Muslim.” There's disgust in his voice as he leans back in his seat. “‘You know, we’ll drop the charge, help you out. You go to the mosque and listen. ’” A sneer breaks out on his lips at the following words.

“I thought we were supposed to be fighting terrorists.” Another sigh, this time one of disappointment. “Not flipping some pothead student in Queens to spy on Americans.” Hassan clears his throat and takes a deep breath, his dark orbs flashing around again as a girl with blonde braids and flowers in her hands walks past them.

Miriam feels the need to say something, but bites her tongue, shifting uncomfortably in the seat, because she wouldn't know what to say. So she just takes a deep breath and wraps herself more tightly in her shawl, one hand snaking down to the damn beads. She looks away from watching a giggling Erin chatting with a withdrawn Riley to a depleted lawman beside her.

“So I complain. Gently…”, a male hand raises a single index finger, in a representative gesture, before the sheriff's deep voice completes. “One time.” Hassan has a palpable disappointment etched in his features. “Everything changed.” There was another pause, an indignant silence. “I was surveilled by other cops. I mean, they even had an official file on me.” Hassan took a deep breath, one hand running through his black hair that was starting to gray wearily.

“And not just me. See, like, after the Towers, Muslim officers were promoted fast. Especially if we knew the language, like, linguistic knowledge, cultural knowledge. We were very desirable for that.” The man's weary gaze focused on some uninteresting fixed point just at the accountant's feet. “But it started to occur to them, with so many of us on the force, elevated to positions of real authority, what if that had been our plan all along?” His normally serene expression twists into a frown.

“What if we were interlopers? What if we were infiltrators? What if we were double agents? And they fucking panicked.” The curse ran emphatically across the cop's bearded lips. “Internal Affairs was suddenly all over us. We were being followed. We’re being recorded. Civilians too. Surveilled at mosques, cafes.”

The entire situation described brought the bitterness of bile onto the accountant's tongue, and a shiver of discomfort unnerved her spine. Pike stood up, sitting up and leaning his big head against the woman's covered knee. Miriam ran her fingers over the animal's ears, staring straight ahead.

“And suddenly I’m out of plain clothes, and I’m back in uniform. Night shift, street beat.” There was an indignation that never left his words, the pain spiked in his tone. “And more and more, I realize that I've lost their trust.” Hassan shrugs wearily. “I roll with it. I keep my head high.” Harper watches the sheriff's bearded chin lift with pride.

“Dignity.” Hassan's voice is raw, bitter. Miriam looks up from the panting dog at her feet to look into the good sheriff's black eyes. There was something reflected in them, a pain, an agony, but also something she knew all too well, grief.

“Dignity is a word my wife uses.”, the good cop's gaze drops, for a moment he just stares at his own hands folded in his lap. “‘Show them dignity. ’” The pain of loss punctuates his words, and Harper feels something tighten in her chest. “And then she's diagnosed.” Hassan's voice drops, almost fails, and Miriam can't look him in the eye.

“And she's robbed of her dignity so fast.”, his words escape in the form of a pained whisper. “And then she’s gone. And I couldn't…”, his controlled tone breaks into something choked, packed with grief. “Ali and I get as far away as we can. And I find this gig. This little island.” Hassan takes a deep breath, lifting his dark eyes back to Miriam, and he realizes she's finally looking at him, a sad furrow marring her forehead.

“So sleepy, it could be dead. No elections, no staff. Just a tiny room at the back of a grocery store, and a bunch of fishermen without a notable incident of intentional violence in almost a century, and I beg for the post.” speech. “Dignity.” He punctuates the word in a firm voice. “Ali is bored to tears. But he's safe.” Looking around, he makes a small nod towards the smiling boy next to Ooker.

Harper straightens up and looks in the direction of young Ali Hassan. The boy was sweet and dedicated, he always carried a bright smile and an infinite desire to help and cooperate. He wanted to belong to that small community without realizing how bad it would do him, how much it would contaminate him. The accountant sighs, lowering her eyes and turning her melancholy orbs to the sheriff.

“And I still think I could maybe move the world that one millimeter. You know, maybe here’s where we make a difference. Not in the big city, but in this tiny village.”, the policeman gestures around, his tone low and controlled to avoid being heard over the music. “Win over the fucking PTA and call it a victory for Islam.”, impetuously he throws his hands up emphatically.

“So I don’t intimidate. I don't overshare or overstep or intrude in any way.” Hassan's tone is cautious, and Miriam knows there's nothing to argue about. So she resigns herself to scratching Pike's head and calming the anxiety. “Miriam, I don't even carry a gun.” He gestures vaguely to the empty holster on his belt, his expression softening for a slight second.

“And still…” he looks around, his tone even lower, before continuing. “Beverly Keane and a few others too look at me like I’m Osama bin-Fucking-Laden.” Miriam looks away once more and feels her cheeks burn with the disgrace of her request. “And you’d like me to investigate them?” it is a rhetorical question, she knows, and guiltily she drops her gaze to the floor, turning as he does, both of them, shoulder to shoulder.

Miriam bites the inside of her cheek and considers her friend's words.

“I'm sorry.”, she says in a low whisper, not meeting his eyes, her fingers playing with the black fur of the dog that was staring at her. “I will not insist that you do this. But I ask that you just consider nominating someone you trust to do this for you. Please.” She hears an exhausted sigh beside her and decides to add. “If it's still complicated, and I know it is, just keep your distance and if someone asks, say that I hired the person and that you didn't know anything, you know, blame the newly arrived and nosy accountant.” weak laugh that escapes the grieving policeman. “I guarantee everyone would believe it.”, Miriam shrugs, letting her eyes roam over the faces of the people around her.

Hassan turns to her from his seat on the bench, his pointed gaze fixed on the accountant's serious profile. When she realizes he's staring at her, she does the same to him, pure and absolute conviction in her features. The sheriff takes a deep breath in silent agreement.

“I think I might know someone, but I need to check if she's still available.” Hassan muttered, folding his hands in his lap. “Otherwise, there's nothing else I can do.”, the sheriff completes between one breath and the next, his dark eyes focusing on Joe's intoxicated figure.

“Thank you,” she murmured in a gentle tone, patting the officer's thigh reassuringly.

For a moment, most of the tension in Miriam's shoulders is gone, and both friends share a comfortable silence.

The sugary scent of candy floss, lavender, cedar, and sea air fills the young woman's nostrils, and she feels calm for a moment. She closes her eyes and absorbs the distant bass of the small band's music. A loud snore from Pike abruptly reminded her of where she was, and jointly awoke something else.

“And the cats? Any news?” Miriam asked suddenly, turning her head on the back of the seat and staring at Hassan's tired profile as he sighed.

“The vet mentioned something about an unusual thing at the autopsy.” He knits his brows together in an effort to remember exactly what it was. “According to him, it wasn't just the laceration that caused the death of all those cats, it looks like something drained the blood from the bodies, completely.”, the dark-bearded man makes a strange face as he says those words, almost as if it makes no sense put them together in a sentence.

A pair of glowing eyes flashes through Harper's mind. With a shake of her head, she pushes the dark memory to a corner of her mind. Taking a deep breath, she ignores a shiver that enervates up her spine and lays her head back on the back, her eyes turned to the mingled immensity of the celestial above.

“Well, at least that explains why there was no blood on the beach despite the biblical amount of bodies.”, she mutters with a frown, gesturing minimally around. The mere memory of the putrid stench of the bodies made her stomach churn.

“Speaking of the bible…” Hassan glances for a moment at the slender cleric approaching them. The sheriff is silently amused as he watches his company's posture stiffen in realization.

Harper takes a deep breath and watches the man of the cassock approach in the distance, he no longer wears the purple clause, but his typical set of boots, jeans, black button-down shirt and cardigan. The mere glimpse of his lush curly mane unnerved a flurry of butterflies beneath her skin.

“Are you staying here?” she asks the dark-haired sheriff in a low voice, her posture straight, her eyes never leaving the tall figure that stood out among the islanders. She blinked after a moment and saw him nod toward old Joe Collie and his glass that never seemed to be empty.

“Just a little longer. I want to make sure he doesn't see any giant-albatross chasing him again.”, he muttered, crossing his arms in a tighter posture with the cleric's proximity.

Miriam reacted to his comment with a noise close to a laugh and nodded in agreement as she stood up. A knowing look was all that ran between the two of them before the pastor's melodic voice filtered into their ears. Tucking her hands into her pockets, she watched the two men.

“Morning again, Sheriff.”, the priest waved one hand briefly at both of them while the other dangled hidden behind his back. His ebony eyes flicker briefly to the woman with a slightly embarrassed smile.

Miriam absorbed the awkward silence between the three of them, biting the inside of her cheek to contain her embarrassment. The good priest seemed to sense the uncomfortable silence he had unintentionally caused, and offered to correct it.

“I'm sorry to interrupt, I-” he started, taking a half step back. His rich tone was abruptly interrupted by Miriam's serene speech.

“Oh no. It's not interrupting, we're done.” She turned to Hassan and nodded. “Give me news about your friend.”, Miriam used her most worried tone, just in case she needed to elude some questions from the parish priest.

The black-haired sheriff nodded and ran a strong hand between Pike's furry ears, briefly losing interest in the interaction between the priest and the accountant.

“Want to go for a walk?” Paul asked, turning to the young woman, a hopeful glint in the dark pools of his eyes. She shrugged and whispered a 'sure', contained, a wave of heat rising up her neck.

Taking a few steps closer to the stocky man who was intently focusing on his drink, Harper asked:

“Joe, do you mind if I take Pike for a walk? He looks bored.”, she added with a smile, casting a gentle look at the animal, who promptly glanced at her upon hearing his name. Joe looked her up and down for less than a moment and nodded.

“Make yourself comfortable, he already got used to you.”, Joe shrugged, watching his canine friend trot towards the woman with childlike glee once she called out to him.

“Come on, Pike.”, she called to the big dog, who happily trotted towards her. Rising from her crouched position, Miriam casts a glance at those left behind and nods to the priest who was watching her with his hands behind his back.

Soon they began to walk shoulder to shoulder. Pike wagged his tail and made his diligent patrol a few steps ahead.

Paul looks at his companion's features for a long moment before taking a shallow breath and extending the hand he'd hidden behind his back toward her, unpretentiously, it took a minute for her to register the gesture. Between the preacher's long fingers is a flower. But not just any flower, it was a gardenia. Miriam wondered if he knew what each white petal of those meant. Secret love, how appropriate. She bit her lip to hold back her laughter.

She runs her fingers over the white petals and picks it up as if it were made of glass, a bubbling blush rushing to her cheeks as her fingers brush the bare tips of his.

“Why the flower?”, she asks, glancing at him before she can hold her tongue. Paul has both hands shoved in the pockets of those damn tight jeans as he shrugs and looks around, a serene look on his features. There's a tenderness in his dark eyes that blows tender heat into her throbbing chest as he looks at her.

“I don't know…” he says, a simple smile curving his well-designed cupid's bow. “A thanks. Maybe I just want you to feel comfortable with me,” he says casually, as if the gesture itself isn't short of priestly manners.

Miriam smiles slightly at the answer, but she can't help but tease him about it.

“Oh, and why is that, Father?” she asks, twirling the short, hairy stem of the flower between her fingers. Paul could feel the smile in her words, the slight teasing in her use of his title. The elder takes a moment to find his words.

“It's just… you usually seem so nervous, so overwhelmed…”, near me. He catches the words on his tongue before they leave his mouth, stubborn heat covering his face. Paul simply gestures with one hand for nothing in particular and goes back to hiding his hands in his pockets. “I just want to fix this.” He looks at her briefly, an expectant look well hidden in his eyes.

A nasal understanding noise escapes the woman, and she lets her eyes roam around her surroundings before responding in a restrained way.

“You’re very kind. Thank you.”, her tone is sweet and soft, like the hum of a bird, and it nurtures an unquestionable affability.

A simple smile curves the corners of Paul's lips as they stare at each other for a short moment, studying each other. Then immediately turn their eyes to the path in front of them.

The crackling of the still icy grass beneath their feet is continually drowned out by the laughter and excited voices all around. Miriam sinks into the sweet scent of the flower bud in her hands, a scent almost as intoxicating as his own. Thinking about it carries her to the disturbing moment when their bodies were pressed together in her kitchen. The way she could feel the heat of his skin even under his clothes. The way he tightly wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her from collapsing, how it felt a little too tight to be unintentional or meaningless. Harper felt herself almost shiver as she remembered how his thick black lashes had so seductively darkened those kind, half-closed eyes.

Her mind was pulled from its blasphemous spiral by the priest's rich tone as he waved to Melinda in her flower shop. Paul turned his attention back to her.

“…so, how are you feeling on your first crock pot luck?” he asks, a chaste smile painting his lips, a dark brow arched in curiosity. The good priest watches her huff a faint laugh as he lifts his head and looks up around.

“Well, it's your first one, too. I believe we both have to answer that. However, I suppose your response will be much more enthusiastic than mine.” This time there was a vague exhaustion bubbling under each word, but still she shot him a weak smile.

“Oh… having a bad day?” he asks in a compassionate tone, his features empathetic to the heralded difficulty. When Miriam glances at him for a second, he has his brows drawn together and his eyes squint at the sun, her mind crawling with images again, and she almost gasps.

“Not exactly, but I've received news that won't make my week any easier.”, the young woman blurts out in a weary murmur. She feels an uneasy bubble piercing her brain as her gaze rests on Bev's rigid, impertinent figure a few steps away.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Paul murmurs, his hand lightly stroking Miriam's back in a comforting way. The cleric feels his companionship shudder under his fingertips.

“Laws of the trade, I suppose,” she whispers, correcting her shallow breathing with a sigh. Her shrewd eyes fell on Beverly Keane's judgmental gaze, who glared repulsively at the diligent animal trotting between Paul and Harper. “Tell me, Father Paul, have you noticed something wrong with your books?” The question runs through the woman's lips once the deaconess is out of reach.

Paul stares at her confused for a moment, and runs a hand through his curls as he crumples to the floor. Miriam notices and stops her steps soon after, facing him.

“What do you mean?” the cloth man asks, tilting his head slightly and watching the accountant approach a few steps, so she doesn't need to speak above a whisper.

“Sorry, I should have been more specific.”, she stops staring at him for a moment. Miriam lets her free hand run along the back of her neck, the tips of her nails scratching her skin weakly as she scolds herself for not being clearer. “I mean, have you noticed anything wrong or weird with the church bills since you arrived?” the young woman rephrases her question, looking around slightly just in case Bev is lurking.

“To be honest, I don’t know, Bev always does the maths…”, the priest is dumbfounded at the perception of the frivolous suggestion of the question. Paul wonders what antics Bev was up to as he drowned in the dark. Certainly nothing good.

“If I may, Father, I believe you should look for yourself, just as a matter of conscience. If you find something wrong, I'd be very grateful if you let me know.” Harper watches in her peripheral vision as Pike circles some plant near the cemetery and relieves himself on it. She turns to look at him. “I'm facing some problems as an accountant. So many things wrong on such a small island…” she rambles, turning the gardenia in her fingers as if it were a hypnotic circle.

“I'll be more attentive, I promise.”, the black haired man forms, briefly touching the woman's forearm with his fingertips, triggering a shaky sigh from her. Forcing himself not to get caught up in that detail, Paul stares at the grass floor for a moment or two. “But why not ask Ms. Keane?” the good priest asks, his gaze still squinted against the blinding glare of the sun.

“Ah…”, she laughs, stepping to the side, making her way towards Pike. An almost bitter laugh escapes her as she tucked a strand of her flowing hair behind her ear. “I'm sure you've heard her opinion of me in her confessions.”, she comments when he places himself side by side with her again. Now it was his turn to laugh.

“I can't say, priest-confessor secrecy.” There is an air of laughter that covers his words as he responds, a sardonic smile on his lips. Paul watches Miriam nod grimly with dramatic seriousness, and it only makes him smile more.

“Um…sure…”, the young woman murmurs, enjoying the simple, comfortable intimacy between them.

Like it or not, the newspaper clipping she'd seen in the rectory from time to time crept into her mind, whether she was in the presence of the good clergyman or alone. Obviously, she'd already heard that ridiculous rumour that every person has at least seven doppelgangers around the world, but good God! She had never seen such a stark resemblance before. Every little mark or crease in his features reminded her of old Monsignor. The more Harper studied him, the more she had an almost dizzying certainty that the two men were somehow connected, almost like an intuition.

“You still have the weird habit of staring at people, don't you?”, Paul had caught her staring at him with his peripheral vision. Once again, she had that clinical, analysing look at him. She knows, get rid of her. The messenger's voice whispered in his mind, but he muffled the noise by focusing only on her.

“You really look like him,” the woman whispers, her intent eyes studying the priest's features. He felt a chill at the puzzled tone she used.

“Who?”, the priest pretended not to know who she was referring to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at the mere possibility of her wondering who he really was. However, he always guarded himself so that fear didn't show on his features.

“Pruitt.”, she says as if it's absolutely obvious. There is a break. “If I hadn't been told he's about 100 years old, I'd say you're twins.”, Miriam shakes her head as she reads without much interest the writing at the entrance to the cemetery.

“He’s not that old, he’s more like he's eighty-year-old.”, he argues with a soft smile, a tiny pinch of offence in his voice.

“Sometimes I suppose he could be your father.”, she laughs at her bullshit, shaking her head, and he feels a shiver run down his spine. “You look ridiculously alike.” Harper looks at the good priest for a long moment after that. Paul is suddenly interested in a tombstone epigraph.

“Same person at different stages of life, maybe.” He blurts out his own mind a little too far away as he reads the name 'Alice Mary Pruitt' almost erased on the lichen-covered concrete. Miriam looks at him confused as he runs his long fingers over the headstone. Strange thing to say.

Suddenly, Paul seems to wake up from a dream. Back straight, he shoves his big hands in his pockets and starts walking out of the morbid, melancholy graveyard he knew so well. Once Miriam was close enough, he asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“I see you're close with Joe Collie.” There's a subtle suggestion beneath the words that he knows she won't miss. The good priest glances at her when he sees her sigh.

“I wouldn't say that, but I believe we're friends, somehow.”, she suggests with a shrug. The accountant's sly gaze looked him over from head to toe in an attempt to dig up his intentions.

“I think you should know that Flynn's oldest son, Riley, had a problem with alcohol,” the priest begins, his steps calculated to keep her close, as if he's telling a secret.

“Yes, I heard about something like that.”, the woman says. Of course, she knew about Riley's alcoholic issues, by God, she shared a house with Erin, it would be impossible for her not to know about what happened to poor, withdrawn Riley Flynn. However, she wouldn't make it so clear that she knew, not without first knowing the priest's agenda.

“Well, so he doesn't have to waste a whole day on a trip to the mainland. I volunteered to lead an AA here in Crockett,” the dark haired priest's rich voice begins. Even before all the words escape his lips, Harper already knows what he's going to ask for. She sighs. “I know I might be being invasive by asking you this, but you know it would do him good to go. I'm not asking you to tie him up and throw him in there with me. Just suggest it to him.”

Paul is subtle in his request. There is a chaste, compassionate tone to his words, one that would warm Miriam's cheeks if she weren't pondering the meaning of his words.

“You could do that yourself…”, the accountant counters, looking at the man in front of her with a tired look. She really wouldn't mind, but under the current circumstances, she's too exhausted to have this conversation with Joe.

“He doesn't know me, and besides, Joe Collie harbours a sharp contempt for much of the congregation. But not for you. Please, just try,” he argues, those damn puppy eyes pleading so gently. She releases a defeated sigh.

“Alright…”, there is a long pause in which they both look at each other, the cleric looks at her expectantly. “I can do that.”, the accountant confirms, running her slender fingers through her hair slightly messy from the wind and starts walking towards the fair. Before she takes another step, he wraps a warm hand around her wrist.

“There's one more thing I'd like to ask.” This time Miriam shows no reluctance, her rational brain too paralysed by the touch of him in her wrist to argue, she nods. “I wonder if you wouldn't like to show up at the rectory once in a while. Just to talk.”

Of all the things Paul Hill could say to her right now, this was certainly not what she expected. With a confused look and brows drawn together in uncertainty, she takes a step closer to the priest. His pianist's fingers tickling almost imperceptibly against the skin of her wrist almost made her gasp. With what's left of her self-control, Miriam stabilizes her shallow breathing.

“I feel like there's something bothering you,” he began in his rich, booming voice, making her shiver in her bones as he took a step closer to her. “I just want you to know that you can count on me if you need to talk. I really appreciate our conversations, and I think it would be good for you to unload what bothers you so much. Don't think I'm offering Catholic redemption, I'm not asking you to come to confession, that's not it.”, the man is silent for a moment, his mind working to give him the right words.

He still hasn't let go of her wrist. Paul can feel the heart beating of the woman's pulse against his fingertips, realizing it spreads an inconvenient heat at the base of his spine. Miriam felt the blood boil under her cheeks, she could almost feel every breather of his breath against her eyelashes.

“I just think you’re overworked. And I want you to know that you can count on a friend to vent to whenever things feel too… oppressive.” There is a long pause. The good priest runs his fingers from the woman's racing pulse to the palm of her trembling hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “What I'm offering is just a cup of tea and someone to talk to…” for the first time she really looks him deeply in the eyes, getting lost in those puddles of chocolate.

He has such kind eyes, she remembers thinking when she'd first seen him at church, nearly a week ago. It was still true, but now, after some time together, she could see beyond kindness. There was a darkness in those eyes, pain, guilt, grief, and so many other things she still couldn't name. Miriam wanted to touch him, touch his face, feel the warm skin under her fingers and hold him, until she drowned in those eyes and discovered every little secret hidden in them.

“Father Paul!”

Before she could even think of answering him, a voice called out to him in the distance, and he smiled at her one last time, hopefully. Slowly releasing her hand. The marks around his eyes turned that affable smile into something that made her knees tremble.

“No need to answer now. Just keep it in mind. See you soon, Miriam.” Father Paul said goodbye, and the way her name sounded melodic in his voice crumbled every little resilient nerve in her body, if it were humanly possible she would have turned into a puddle, right there in front of his feet.

Harper was silent for a long moment and felt her cheeks burn.

Pike's tearful bark brought her gaze back.

“Come on, boy, let's take you back to your dad.” Gently, she snapped her fingers a few times and considered making her way to the drinks stall, where a probably drunk Joe Collie was waiting.

However, she didn't move, scrutiny fixed on the cleric's slender figure while her mind could only ask her: Who is this man?

Taglist:

@stardustandgunpowder, @liesandghosts, @pruitts-tight-fucking-jeans, @un-kiss-the-breakfast, @girlwiththenegantattoo, @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade, @sterwild, @thegardenarcher, @snapessecretdiary, @judarspeach, @hungrhay, @midnight-mess, @ledzeppelindeanmon, @vivi-venus, @novywhere

If your name is striped, it’s because Tumblr don’t let me tag you for some reason. =(

Here's a Google form, where you can tell me where you want to be tagged.

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princess-of-riviaa · 4 years ago

Text

Claiming

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Erin Quincy (1st person POV)

Summary: You experience your first heat as a brand new shifter. Walter, being the good alpha he is, helps out his struggling omega.

Warning(s): depictions of animal attack, age gap (Erin is 25, Walter is 38), alcohol use, a bit of angsty Walter, dirty talk, possessiveness

Author’s note: This is my first piece of work I made for the ABO Universe. I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 3,931

Two weeks ago, I’d been on a camping trip with my two step-brothers, Scott and Chris, when my life had forever changed. One second, the hiking trail had been clear and safe; the next, some kind of animal was jumping out of the brush and fighting my breakfast sausage out of my hands. I later learned that the animal had been a wolf, but that realization only came when I had my first Shift three days later.

Though the night had escaped my memories, when I woke up in an unfamiliar mansion to an unfamiliar group of faces the next day, they filled me in on the details. The man in front—tall, with deep brown curls that were almost as distracting as his thick, muscular shape—had told me that I had Shifted the night before and ended up on their doorstep. And yes, Shifters—not werewolves, as most fantasy books called them—were real, Walter informed me during my surprised silence.

Walter Marshall—that was the stunning stranger’s name. He was an Alpha of one of the two packs that lived in this mansion, and I was more than welcome to join them. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what had become of myself—and I knew better than to hope that my family would understand—so I accepted the generous offer.

I had been with the pack for three weeks now. Winnie Marshall, Walter’s twin sister, was the Alpha for the mansion’s other pack. Walter had found me first—he had actually been the one to stop me from giving into my animalistic instincts on the night he found me, and had been the one to bring me in from the pouring rain—and technically had claim to me. But, because I hadn’t officially been claimed by him, Winnie argued that she had as much right to me as her brother did. So she took me under her wing. She’d explained everything to me, been there in my moments of panic and embarrassment to assure me that everyone goes through this, and it’s not going to last forever.

The only other two people in the house that were my age were two betas. One of them, a young man named Mike (though everyone called him Mikey), was the center of attention at the mansion, though he surprisingly had his eyes set on the quiet girl who loved books. Her name—I met her last, simply because she’d locked herself in the library for a week-long reading challenge—was Amber Connelly. As the only other beta under the age of thirty, she had an… interesting relationship with Mikey. And by that I mean they were both head over heels for each other, though they only ever bickered, and neither of them seemed aware of the others’ feelings. But they never acted on their feelings, and no one ever expected them to, simply because Mikey was Walter’s Beta, and Amber was Winnie’s, and packs didn’t mix, especially if their was a chance of a Claiming.

Claiming—that was the part of all of this that had intrigued me the most. It started with a bite. One person had to bite their partner directly over the heart, hard enough to leave a scar that would be there forever. In another sense, one wolf had to mark their partner as their territory. It was possessive in every sense of the word, and I couldn’t deny that deep down inside of me, I wanted to share that intimate, lifelong promise with Walter.

It was insane for a number of reasons. Not only had I met the Alpha just a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t even officially in his pack, and a Claiming with an Alpha would make me second-in-command. There were a few steps I would be skipping if that happened. Not to mention that Walter Marshall was the only unclaimed Alpha over the age of thirty-five in the entire city, and there was a reason for that. I didn’t know the details, but I knew it had something to do with his past. Our age was another factor. He was almost 40, while I had just turned 25.

And yet, here I was, wanting his mark anyways. He was quiet and reserved enough to make him mysterious, and that only pulled me in more. In the first week I was there, I found any way I could to talk to him, mainly to thank him for giving me a safe place for this new season of life. But he had disappeared with Andy and Charles Barber—two Beta brothers—for an entire week. Winnie had only said that they were taking care of business on the other side of the city, but when the three men came back, there was a darkness to all of them that told me whatever they had been doing… It hadn’t been fun.

Walter was harder to reach in the days that followed. When I would knock on his office door and ask him if he was able to train me today—something both he and Winnie insisted on their packs doing in their daily routine—he would snap and order me to leave, the sound of his growl following me out the door. He apologized for his behavior three days later, and bought takeout from my favorite restaurant to make it up to me, but I still couldn’t forget that side of him. The side of him that turned his soft blue eyes completely black. The part of him that was all animal, only selfishness and cold edges.

And yet, even after all of that, I still wanted him. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d woken up panting in the middle of the night, rising out of a dream of those blue eyes looking down at me as he fucked my throat, making me gag and cry around his cock. The sound of my own moans had forced me awake before dawn this morning. The memory of Walter’s intense gaze holding my reflection’s as he fucked me in the bathroom had followed me all day.

I was still wound up as I made my way to the game room. The smell of alcohol was strong throughout the house. The packs were celebrating Walter and Winnie’s thirty-eighth birthday tonight, and everyone, it seemed, was intent on getting blackout drunk. There were three kegs in the living room. It took Shifters a lot longer to get drunk, so I wasn’t surprised to find that the kegs were already halfway empty by the time I filled a cup for myself.

But I was surprised to find Walter perched on the roof when I made my way up to my regular hiding spot. He didn’t look over at me when I climbed onto the roof, but he didn’t seem startled when I took a seat beside him, and I knew his Shifter senses had probably heard me before I’d even climbed up the stairs that led up here.

“I see you stole my hiding spot,” I remarked as I took a sip of my beer.

“This way my hiding spot first, actually.” There’s amusement in his eyes as he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, but the amusement is only a cover. I note the darker emotion hiding beneath, and I recognize it instantly. It’s the same thing I’ve been feeling since my first Shift.

Loneliness.

“So technically you stole it from me,” Walter continued, giving me a ghost of a smile.

Though the air was light between us for once, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Why are you hiding on your birthday?”

He sighed and looked out at the valley below us. The city lights reflected in his eyes, making the blue in them sparkle. He chugged back the rest of his beer before answering, “I’m thirty-eight tonight.”

“So I’ve heard.” The light tone was clearly forced, but I continued anyways. “Congratulations.”

His long fingers parted thick curls before he clutched the roots of his hair and squeezed, looking frustrated and… defeated. “I’m thirty-eight—and I still don’t have a goddamn mate.”

Oh.

I didn’t know what to do. Part of me was more than ready to say, Take me. Claim me. I’ll be your mate. But I knew that was overstepping. I didn’t know how to comfort him.

“Walter—” I began.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with this. I think I’ve had a few too many drinks.”

We both knew that was a lie. He was too collected to be drunk. Everything—save for his brutal honesty—screamed completely sober.

“I just…” He went on, then stopped himself.

I put a hand on his arm and had to physically force myself not to lean into the warmth of his body heat. When his blue eyes met mine, I nearly lost control. God, I wanted him. I wanted to ran my hands through his hair; wanted to know the way his moans sounded as he filled me up; wanted to feel his mouth on me—

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind. “It’s okay,” I told him. “You can tell me.”

He hesitated.

“You’ve been there for me since I got here,” I pointed out. “It’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

His eyes scanned my face, and I got the feeling that he could see into my soul. It unnerved me as much as it made me want to bear myself to him. He finally said, “You don’t owe me anything, Erin. I was being a good Alpha.”

“You let a stranger into your home,” I argued. “That qualifies as more than simply being a good Alpha. There’s other packs in the city, yet you were the only one who opened your door to me. And you’ve let me stay here when you could have just as easily sent me away. You’re not just a good Alpha, Walter, you’re…” I almost said, you’re everything, but I caught myself.

But the way he looked at me… I had a feeling that he heard what I didn’t say.

“And maybe you think I don’t owe you,” I went on, “but I want to be there for you. I want to give you whatever you need.”

His eyes left my face to stare at the hand I placed on his arm. He reached for it, and at first I thought he was going to push me away, but he simply held my hand between his own. He opened my fingers and stared at my palm as if he was going to tell me my future. A thick, calloused finger traced across the lines on my palm. The touch was simple and gentle, but it made me shiver nonetheless.

“I’m the only Alpha in the city without a mate,” he finally admitted. “That fact has never bothered me before. I always liked being on my old. I thought I was better that way. It was enough always having to keep an eye on Winnie; I never had a want for someone else to look out for.”

“But now…?” I guessed there was a “but” in that sentence.

His focus was locked on his fingers as he traced the outline of my hand. Something about the way his rough skin felt against mine… It made heat stir in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t realize I had started to lean into him until there was just a few inches of space left between us.

“But now,” he finally said, and sighed. “Now I find myself wanting something I don’t know if I can have.”

“A mate?” Why couldn’t he have that?

“You.” He finally met my gaze, just as the words clicked in my mind.

Heat made my cheeks burn bright red as I repeated his words. “M-me? What do you mean?”

“I mean I want you.” His gaze was unapologetic, yet the twist of his mouth… I could tell he was fighting some internal battle. “When I first saw you in that back alley, hiding under that shed from the rain…”

I was silent as he spoke, simply because I’d never heard all the details of what had happened that night, and Walter was the only one with that memory.

“I had Shifted too,” he admitted. “The pack Shifts together on full moons. The Omegas and some of the Betas are less overwhelmed by it if we’re all together. But something had drawn me away from the pack, like some string had pulled me out onto the streets…”

Only once he said something did I realize that I did remember a part of that night. It wasn’t a memory of what had happened, but rather… a feeling I had gotten. Like someone had been calling my name and I had gone in search of them.

“I’d never experienced anything like that before,” Walter continued. “And when I found you, shaking from fear and the cold… I knew I had to do something. The urge to protect you was overbearing. So I brought you home. I told myself it just from the intensity of the Shift that I felt like that, but when you Shifted back the next morning… I knew I couldn’t just let you walk away. So I told you to stay, and I knew that if you had said no, I would have done anything to change your mind.”

“Walter…” My voice was a quiet whisper as my thoughts began to race. “Do you think… That feeling… I felt it too. Is that what…”

“What having a mate feels like?” he guessed.

All I could do was nod. Somehow I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear him say it.

“Maybe.” When his gaze met mine, I realized he looked as lost as I felt. “I couldn’t say one way or another; I’ve never had a mate. But if it is…” He finally dropped my hand, only to cup my face and pull me towards him. “Listen to me, Erin. Even if…” He paused, as if he was struggling to say it out loud, too. “Even if we’re mates, that doesn’t mean you have to choose me. You can walk away. Hell, you can even…” He practically flinched at these words, as if saying them was a physical blow—“You can even choose someone else. Another man. I’m not going to force you into anything.”

I didn’t know what to say. “I think I want another drink.”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but it was gone in a blink. He rose to his feet, insisting that he get it for me. I watched him walk away. He took four steps—and froze. His entire back went rigid, too stiff for a human. His Shifter instincts had picked up on something.

I froze, wondering what was happening, what he had picked up on.

But he merely turned to face me again. Slowly. “Erin.”

I tried to sense his source of distress, but I couldn’t pick up on anything. The only thing I picked up on was how that look in his eyes sent heat straight to my core. “What is it, Walter?” I was on my feet and closing the distance between us in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t move!” he practically yelled.

I paused, almost jumping at his volume.

His eyes were wild, frantic, looking like an animal caught in a trap.

“What’s wrong?” I asked again, resisting the urge to reach out to him.

“Do you know what’s happening to you?” Every muscle in his body was taut as he asked the question.

I frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He simply said, “You’re going through heat.”

Oh.

Winnie had explained that to me on one of my first days here. She’d said it happens to every female Shifter. Her hormones—particularly the horny ones—exploded, and every male Shifter around her could sense it. Apparently, it drove the males as crazy as the females, though it was dangerous to be an Omega—specifically an unclaimedOmega—around any Alphas while in heat.

That’s why Walter wasn’t moving, wasn’t even breathing: he was trying not to pounce on me and take what he wanted. What we both needed.

All those dreams about him… They finally made sense. I was preparing for my first heat.

Only once he brought it to my attention did I realize just how hot I was. My heart was hammering in my chest, flames boiling beneath my skin, and—god, when had I gotten so wet?

“Walter…” My voice was a high-pitched whine.

“You’ll be okay.” He didn’t sound convincing in the slightest. The look in his eyes matched the relentless ferocity rising in my core.

God, I needed him. “Please…”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t, Erin. We’re both unclaimed. I won’t be able to control myself—”

I took a step towards him—and practically cried out. The burning in my core—between my legs—it was unbearable. I needed to ease the ache inside of me. My hand moved of its own accord towards my legs, and before I knew it I was touching myself over my jeans.

Walter’s eyes were locked on my hand. “Erin… you’re killing me.”

“Please, Walter,” I begged, my body no longer under my control. “I need you. I can’t breathe—”

That was when he kissed me. He wasn’t the first person I had kissed, but he felt like the first person who mattered. Our mouths molded together and I moved against him in a way that said, I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you.

“God, I can smell you,” he breathed into my neck, his low voice nothing more than a moan. “You’re already wet for me, baby.”

All I could do was moan as he pressed me against his erection. His mouth trailed down my neck, over my clavicle, and stopped over my heart.

“I want you,” I cried out as I ran my hands through his hair. “Mark me, Walter. Please.”

He brought his mouth to my chest, but he didn’t bite me like I expected him to. Instead, he brushed a soft kiss against my skin. I whined as he pulled away and moved me from his lap.

“Did I do something wrong?” I panicked, feeling like an idiot—

“No,” he assured me. “You’re… god, you’re perfect. But I’m not about to fuck you on the roof. I doubt you’ll want the entire neighborhood to hear you moaning for me.”

My face flushed instantly, but I didn’t say anything as he rose to his feet and pulled me inside, not stopping until we were in his room. An Alpha’s room was a place very few people ever saw. It was more intimate than a regular bedroom; it was stepping into his territory, walking onto his turf, and I knew that something had permanently changed between us as I crossed the threshold into the room.

The room was rather simple. A king-sized bed was pressed against the left wall. The crimson sheets were the only color in the room. The right side of the wall had a desk covered in files and papers. Newspaper clippings hung above it, stamped into the wall with thumb tacks. I didn’t have a moment to read what all the papers were about before Walter distracted me.

He arms wrapped around me as he lifted me up in the air. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. I clung to his shoulders, but he held me easily, as if I weighed no more than a few pounds. The show of pure strength did nothing to help the wet mess between my legs.

Walter walked us to the bed and lied me down on my back. He hovered over me but didn’t move to touch me. The longing and lust in his eyes was so vibrant, so undeniable, that I writher beneath him.

But his tone was calm as he said, “I need to ask you again. Is this what you want, Erin?”

“So much,” I breathed before pulling him against me.

His thigh moved between my legs, and he deepened the kiss as his leg pressed tightly against my core, applying pressure where I needed it most. Though our hands ran along each other’s bodies in a hungry frenzy, he kissed me differently than he had on the roof. It wasn’t rushed or desperate this time, but rather deep and slow and just as sensual. My toes curled.

I cried out as his mouth moved to my ear. He nipped at my earlobe—an action that sent shivers through my body—before whispering, “What is it, baby girl? What do you want? My fingers?”

I writhed against him.

“My mouth?”

Oh, fuck.

“Both?”

A wanton moan escaped me before I could stop it.

“Or are you already too desperate? That’s what it smells like to me. My little omega’s falling apart and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’re already desperate for me to fill your aching cunt, aren’t you, baby girl?”

His tone was different than I’d ever heard it. He spoke in a low, husky voice, and his tone was teasing but demanding at the same time. It made me dizzy.

“Already forgotten your words, omega? Has the heat gotten to your brain?” He buried his face in the crook of my neck and rubbed his nose along the skin below my ear. He was scenting me. “Or is it your Alpha who’s gotten to you?”

Instead of answering, I clawed at his clothes desperately, trying to undress him in my lustful haze. He allowed me to take his shirt off, though he undid his pants himself. His body… how was he even more impressive naked? I took one look at those sculpted muscles, at the dark swirls of hair that covered his chest and stomach, and knew that that was the kind of body that put the gods to shame. His cock bounced against his stomach as he stepped out of his underwear. It was thick and long, and as I watched the red, aching tip release pre-cum, I wondered how I could possibly fit his girth inside of me.

“My turn,” he breathed before moving to hover over me again.

One minute I was clad in my shorts and t-shirt, and the neck my clothes were in shreds on the floor. Walter’s hungry gaze made note of every inch of skin I beared for him, and I was too fucked out to feel self-conscious.

“Fuck me, Alpha,” I begged. “I need you inside of me!”

He growled before spreading my legs and pressing his length against my core. Our lips met just as he pushed inside me, and my nails dug into his shoulder at the burst of pleasure that ripped from me. His mouth was on my chest a second later, and as he kneaded my breasts in his hands, his teeth cut into the skin over my heart.

Claiming me.

...

tag squad:

@agniavateira @littlefreya @celestial-vomit @lestersglitterglue @honeychicana @penwieldingdreamer @mary-ann84 @elixasays @buckysgoldenheart @noz4a2 @trippedmetaldetector @omgkatinka @lunedelorient @aphrodites-punch @yespolkadotkitty @sweetybuzz25 @iloveyouyen @deathonyourtongue @wondersofdreaming @tsukuyomi011 @the-soot-sprite @desperate-and-broken @palaiasaurus64 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @henrythickcavill @secretlyactivated @madbaddic7ed @wheretheriversrunintothesea @ravenclawvsfairytales @eldarwen333 @mzchievous-blog @myloveforhenrycavill @jayismz

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from my taglist

#walter marshall #walter marshall night hunter #henry cavill smut #walter marshall smut

103 notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

tell.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i cannot tell yall how long i have been working on this one, so i'll save it. thanks to @ssaic-jareau for hanging in there with me as i pulled late nights to make this happen over the weekend!! i love you!! i know it's broad daylight for you while im being irresponsible, but i appreciate it nevertheless. let me know what you think, my lovelies! i cherish your thoughts!

words: 7.4k warnings: language, discussion of sex, canon-typical case events

summary: “we are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.” veronica roth, allegiant. au!may 2012

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

It’s always tough to spend time away from home when you aren’t on a case, but a conference kept you from your boys the last couple of days, on Strauss’s request. Aaron was none too happy about it, but as the junior-most agent in the unit (even with five years under your belt), the shitty seminars and professional development events fell on your shoulders.

Even though you landed early in the morning, flying coach all the way back from California, there was a whole day with Jack waiting for you and Aaron upon your return. A rare Saturday - no case, no paperwork, just family.

You knock on the door with a knuckle, unable to reach your keys around your bags and breakfast.

Aaron opens the door with a “Hey!” coated in laughter, kissing your cheek. He’s still in his pajamas.

You squint at him. “Am I early?”

He snorts. “Never. We’re running late.” He takes the takeout bags and coffee from your hands. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Of course. I wanted -”

Jack runs across the apartment and slams into you full force. “You’re home!”

You curl around him, your hands on his head and shoulder as he cuddles into you. “I am! I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

His voice is muffled by your shirt and it makes you smile. You glance at Aaron over Jack’s head to find a smile.

“Come look at our fort!” Jack, wearing a blanket cape, takes you by the hand and brings you into the dining room, where the dining room table has been turned into a massive fort fit for a king.

Or, rather, two kings.

“Oh my goodness, Jack. This is incredible, little bug. Your architectural prowess knows no bounds.” You look up at Aaron from your place on the floor. “Where’s your cape?”

His deadpan, as usual, never fails to make you laugh. “Uh, I’m wearing it.”

Jack continues to drag you all the way under the table until you’re laying on your bellies in the little slap-dash shelter.

Aaron flops down on the floor on the other side of Jack. “We slept in here all night.”

“Really? That sounds like so much fun.”

What you mean is, What, with your bad back?

“Mmhmm,” he replies, only to really say -

Yep. I feel like shit.

“Can we sleep in here again tonight, Dad?” Jack asks, turning to Aaron. “All together?”

You exchange a glance with Aaron, who laughs.

So much for grown-up plans...

+++

You’re both scrambling to get ready for the bike ride across the mall and day at the Smithsonian when the phone call comes in.

“Hotchner,” Aaron says, still at the counter, tucking his phone under his chin as he finishes packing the rest of the picnic basket.

He freezes, hastily bagging some carrots and putting them in the basket before holding the phone in his hand and leaning heavily against the counter. “You’re kidding.”

That’s not a good tone.

Jack looks up at you, and you rest your hands on his chest over his shoulders, backing him into you as you watch Aaron with your lip between your teeth.

“Did they raise the terror alert?”

Shit.

“Okay. That’s for the best. Um…” He checks his watch. “I’ll get down there now. Yeah….Do you need the rest -”

With a huff, he meets your eyes and nods.

You let out a sigh and kiss Jack’s head. He knows the drill and runs off for your phone, still charging in the bedroom.

“Understood, ma’am. I’ll be there first. We gotta get Jack squared away but I’ll get going while -” He pauses, probably interrupted by Strauss again. “Thank you...Yes...I’ll be there as soon as I can and the rest of the team will meet at the scene.”

You know that also means you. You also can’t ignore the prick of anxiety that shoots through your belly, knowing he’ll likely be in danger without you for at least a half-hour.

Jack returns with your phone, Jessica already on the line.

+++

Aaron, of course, leaves right away while you wait for Jess.

You sit on the couch with Jack. “I’m so sorry, buddy. We’ll have to do a big day, just the three of us, another time.”

Jack shrugs. “It’s okay. Sometimes you just gotta catch the bad guys.”

The offhand nature of his understanding strikes you as instantly hilarious, and he laughs with you when you double over, wiping tears from your eyes.

“Yeah. Sometimes you just do, kiddo.”

+++

When you finally arrive at the scene, Dave’s already set up hostage negotiation. You cross the street, finding Will and JJ huddled with Emily and Derek.

“You okay?” You ask, placing your hand on Will’s shoulder. He’s not just JJ’s not-husband. He’s your friend, too, all on his own.

“Yeah, jus’ fine.” He shakes his head. “Jus’ a little rattled, is all.”

“Understandable.”

His mouth presses into a thin line as he exhales. “Thanks.” He checks his watch. “Y’all should get on back. I think Strauss just showed up.”

JJ kisses his cheek and trots off to meet the rest of the unit. After another hug for Will, you follow suit.

+++

“The media's calling them the Face Cards. Seven bank robberies in seven months. They've killed one person at each robbery.” Aaron leads the rest of you to the trailer, where the monitors are all set up.

Dave furrows his brow. “M. O.?”

“Single gunshot wound. Each of the victims has bled out.”

That doesn’t make much sense.

You jump in. “Serial killers with a 30-day cooling-off period and we're only just hearing about this now?”

“Well, headquarters has always characterized them robbers first and killers second,” Aaron replies, glancing back at you. You roll your eyes.

Of course they did.

“No one kills seven people without serious psychopathic tendencies,” Spencer notes. He’s more than right, and you thought the same thing - it’s almost like he took the words out of your mouth.

“I disagreed with the original assessment. I was overruled.” Aaron’s bland version of frustration is clear in his tone, but he knows, just as you do, that ship has sailed. All you can do now is handle what’s in front of you.

“So why are we here now?” Dave asks.

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

Aaron starts to walk again as JJ asks after more information. Aaron usually rattles it off pretty quickly, but with the quick start this morning, you know he trusts the rest of you to ask the questions you need. “What more do we know about them?

“They're organized, they're efficient. Each strike lasts about two minutes.”

Derek, walking beside you, finally joins the conversation. “They gotta be scouting the banks in advance. Why haven't we been able to identify them off of surveillance footage?”

“They hack the security feed and turn off the cameras, both during the initial canvass and during the robbery, until the masks come back on, and then we're allowed to watch.” Aaron leads you all into the tactical staging truck, watching the security feeds.

+++

As you continue to watch, the scene becomes clearer, the power dynamics more tangible.

Dave sees it, too. “They're using the hostages as human shields.”

JJ, with Will beside her, studies the footage, watching the Queen run around while the King finds himself preoccupied with the Jack’s wound. “This is the first time they've been interrupted. What went wrong?”

“It's a big bank,” Emily says. “It's possible they weren't about to round everybody up before someone triggered an alarm.”

That’s a fair point, but you ask your question anyway. “Why haven't they cut the feed now that they've been cornered?”

Derek, still beside you, answers. “Letting us see inside gives up a tactical advantage. They gotta know that.”

They don't seem to care,” Aaron says, from your other side.

You’re all silent for another minute, watching to see what happens next. Even though their plans went awry, the team still looks fairly calm and collected, all things considered.

JJ’s frown only deepens. “They're overconfident. Arrogant, even.”

“The face card masks add to their narcissism.” Spencer’s voice comes from the end of the line. “Their personas are the royalty of poker.”

You nod - it’s a great point - while Aaron starts making assignments.

“JJ, Reid, and Prentiss, look at past robberies. That's gonna be our victimology. Pull another analyst if you need to.” He turns to you, then Dave, on his other side. “I want you two to handle negotiations. And, Morgan, strategize tactical options with MPD.”

You shuffle, gathering your radio and earpiece from the charger next to Penelope’s computer.

When the rest of the team leaves, you hang back with Dave, keying into the radio channels and standing by for further instruction - you know there’s more for you in the trailer at the moment.

Further instruction, though, may have to wait. Strauss climbs the steps into the rig and Aaron greets her. “Chief Strauss.”

“The Director ordered me to supervise your operation.”

Of course he did.

“Puts you right in the spotlight,” Dave says, not unkindly. It’s almost fond.

You can’t help but hold back a little bit of a smile. If the situation were reversed and it was Aaron at the helm, you’d be proud of him, too.

“Well, you've got gunmen with hostages in the Capital. The Hill's concerned.”

Aaron nods, gesturing to you and Dave. “We're about to open lines of communication.”

“What about a tactical assault?”

The three of you shake your heads as Aaron responds. “I don't think it's a good idea. There are hostages in front of the doors and windows.”

Erin, finally onboard, turns to Dave. “What's your negotiation strategy?”

“The Jack's bleeding out. They'll ask for medical attention.”

You hum, a little skeptical, and look back at the feed. “The female unsub might have something to say about that. Look at her body language.”

Dave follows your gaze. “She is cold and detached. The King seems genuinely concerned about his partner's welfare. But she couldn't give a damn.”

Your eyebrows raise. “The men probably know each other.”

Aaron, picking up on your train of thought, flags Penelope, “Garcia?”

She turns in her chair, already typing. “Shuffling my techno-fabulous deck of databases, sir.”

And so it begins.

+++

“I’ll do the talking - I’ll need to establish some rapport with them, but I’ll need you keeping the team updated and coordinating any allowances or personnel as things come up, okay?”

You nod, a little smile pulling at the side of your mouth. “You got it.”

Dave claps your shoulder. “You’ll be in this chair one day, so pay attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

He dials in and the phone starts ringing through the speaker. You’ll be able to hear everything.

“Who the hell's this?” You check the monitor. The King picked up the phone.

Obviously, the Jack can’t pick up the phone, stupid, he’s bleeding out!

“My name is David Rossi. I'm with the FBI. To whom am I speaking?”

The King doesn’t address the question, but rather looks back toward his fallen compatriot. “All right, I want a doctor sent in, and then I want out of here.”

Dave checks his watch. “Well, we certainly can discuss that. Let the hostages go and we'll give you all the medical help you need.”

You take a mental note. Your memories from Dave’s lectures at the academy are fuzzy at best, and you haven’t had very much time handling these things in the field. The last time a major hostage crisis was at hand, you were a hostage yourself.

A shot hostage, if the chronic nerve pain in your shoulder is any reminder.

“I can't do that. I need the leverage.”

“How about a sign of good faith? Send out the women and children and I'll see what I can do.”

You watch as the King takes the phone away from his mouth. You can vaguely hear him update the Queen, but she’s not having it. She pulls a child from the lineup and your lower lip disappears between your teeth.

A man, you presume the girl’s father, speaks to the Queen before she shoots him in the abdomen. The King gets back on the line.

“You better send in some more help or more people are gonna die.” He hangs up.

Shit.

+++

“You’re not seriously considering sending an agent in there?” You turn on Hotch and he sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“We don’t have much of a choice. I’m not the authority on-site and with the director pressing Strauss, there’s not much I can do.”

The two of you are alone for the time being, so you’re able to rib him for a second to lighten the tension.

“What’s the point of being unit chief if you can’t lord it over everyone all the time?”

You're rewarded with a shadow of a smile and a snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. I lord it over you plenty.”

“Not enough.” Your tone is childish, the words murmured under your breath.

When he walks away, he taps the side of your ass with the back of his hand. If you weren’t in a professional setting, you could mistake it for a promise.

But, Aaron, that would be unprofessional!

You turn to look at him and just catch his wink as he hops up the steps behind Strauss.

+++

With Garcia’s magic and Aaron’s genius, you figure out that the men are related.

While Rossi hops on the next phone call, you help Derek outfit the medic with a bug and a weapon.

“We're sending in the medic now, Chris. Tell Oliver help is on the way.”

Derek nods at the medic and he hops off, heading into the bank. You jog over to the trailer only to find a humorously horrified look on Strauss’s face.

“Is she…”

You get closer, looking up at the monitor.

“...putting on lipstick?”

You scoff. “She’s vain. Only contributes to a profile of vanity and narcissism. She likes to be seen - this is a game for her.”

You jog back out before Strauss can respond, taking your place between Aaron and Derek.

“Green. You gotta go. Green. Go,” Derek says into his mic.

The agent-turned-medic makes a move and immediately gets a shot between the eyes for his trouble. Your hand files over your mouth and Derek ducks away, taking a second.

Well, that couldn’t have been any worse.

You look at Aaron, still staring at the screen, beside you. He’s thinking the same thing.

+++

Derek walks up to you, kevlar and sunglasses firmly in place. “Tactical's been deployed, snipers are moving into position.”

At your questioning look, Strauss clarifies. “The Director's ordered a full tactical assault.”

The look doesn’t leave your face. “His last orders cost us an agent.”

Radio transmissions fly one ear and out the other, not to mention the flurry of activity around the negotiation tent. Before Strauss can reply, Will’s call shoots past you to Aaron.

“SWAT's getting itchy fingers.”

Aaron turns, covering his comm mic at his chest. “You remind SWAT that bank robberies are federal jurisdiction. No one fires until they're ordered to.”

“Right.”

Will disappears and you suppress a little pleased shudder. Aaron’s very much in control now and it is doing things to your body that are better suited for, well, anywhere else. You tighten the velcro across your chest as if to compress another rush of… nothing useful.

Aaron turns back to you, Dave, Derek, and Strauss. “All right, when the crossfire starts, what's gonna happen to the hostages caught in the middle?”

The question is a trap, and Dave doubles down. “That's the wrong call, Erin, and you know it.”

Strauss falters for a minute, leveling with the rest of you. “It's not my call.”

Aaron doesn’t let up. “You're here and you're in charge.” His tone is sharper than yours would be in the same situation, but you’re nearly fifteen years younger and a whole four steps down on the totem pole.

Not for the first time, a rush of affection and gratitude for him crests over your in a wave and you have to look away, taking a deep breath to collect yourself. When you look back, he’s watching you.

I’m okay.

He nods as Erin speaks again.

“So you want me to disobey the Director?” Erin sounds dubious, at best.

Dave responds quickly. “Yes.”

Aaron amends, and if the situation wasn’t so tense his correction would almost be funny. “No. I just want you to buy us a little time.” He pauses, wavering for a second as he rephrases. “Don't be quite so efficient.”

You’re never surprised by Aaron’s political savvy, but it is a nice reminder that he can run circles around every bureaucrat in the district if given the chance.

“Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast.”

+++

“It’s an impossible ask, Dave. You know JJ will never go for it.”

“It’s not up to JJ.” Aaron’s voice approaches from behind you. “It’s the director’s call, but mine first.”

He comes to rest beside you as Dave leaves the two of you alone.

“What are you gonna do?” You look at Aaron, finding his eyes trained on the monitor, arms crossed over his chest.

He sighs. “If it was you he asked for...”

You bump his shoulder. “What, not interested in feeding me to serial killers today?”

It’s a loaded joke, especially for the two of you, but after Emily, you’re past such things. If the situation were reversed, Haley would never stop giving you hell for getting serial-killed the way she did. It’s only fair to return the favor.

“Over my dead body, baby.” He reaches down to squeeze your hand for a second before letting you go. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Stay here.”

+++

You can hear JJ’s anguished shouts from here, beside Dave and the phone.

Derek has a good enough hold on her, Emily and Aaron protecting him from JJ’s wild elbows. She’s beside herself but eventually breaks free and sprints back toward the trailer. You turn to follow her, just in time to hear a gunshot.

Will.

+++

You’re all gathered in the trailer as JJ asks the same questions over and over again. Garcia, just like the first time, doesn’t have any answers.

The static on the monitors is nearly deafening in its silence.

JJ looks at you for a moment and takes a shaky breath before looking at Hotch. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her voice is broken when she speaks. “Aaron.”

You know he’s never been able to deny her anything. In the entire time you’ve known him, it’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed.

His eyes don’t budge from hers. “We’re going in.”

+++

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, trying to stem the stinging from the heat and debris. Your ears ring and you’ve got a scrape on your chin from where you face-planted into the asphalt.

Eventually, you remove your hands and open your eyes to the early summer sunshine. Your bias is clear enough - Aaron’s the first one you look for and the first one you find.

He’s looking a little dazed and more than a little ruffled, but alive.

Ignoring the whine in your ears and swiping some blood off your face, you jog over to him, taking stock of him from head to toe. “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you realize he probably can’t hear you. An image of Kate reaching for you and the smell of blood flashes into your head, but you push it away.

His ear…

“Aaron?” You lay a hand on his shoulder and he startles a little, meeting your eyes and coming back to himself all at once.

He puts his hands on your shoulders, tipping your jaw up with one finger to examine your chin. “You’re hurt.”

“Honey, I’m fine. Your ear…” You follow a small trickle of blood up the side of his neck, rounding him to get a better look. Just as you’d feared, his bad ear is bleeding again.

He waves off your concern and taps his comm mic, calling for support in quick, clear soundbites. You snag the back of his vest before he can get too far away from you.

“As soon as you’re done with that, please get it looked at.”

With a sigh, he nods and gestures to your chin. “I will if you do.”

You roll your eyes.

“Where’s Emily?” You hear Morgan ask JJ as they get their bearings around you.

With a start, you follow them into the building, attached to a couple of SWAT agents. You know Aaron will get after you for going in before everything’s cleared by bomb squad, but you can’t keep still.

The heartache you feel for JJ supersedes anything else going on in your head. It’s something that plagues you all the time - the both of you doing this job. Losing Aaron in the field is a stark reality you can hardly consider at any point, especially when evidence of its reality is right in front of you.

+++

Aaron can’t help himself - he pulls you close after you’re both released by the paramedics, pressing a kiss to your head. It’s almost desperate as he leans back and pulls your collar from your vest, his hands smoothing over your shoulders.

“I need to debrief SWAT and first responders - can you stay with Dave and help with the media?”

“Okay. Let me know if you need any extra hands - I’ll send ‘em right over.”

He smiles at you, soft, small, and affectionate. “Thank you.”

+++

You pull your phone from your pocket.

She picks up on the second ring. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Jess.”

“Hey.” She pauses. “You okay?”

With a shaky sigh, you reply. “Yeah. I’m fine. Aaron’s fine.”

“I heard about the explosion. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, we’re fine. Just...Just stay out of the city.” After another breath. “Is Jack okay?”

She laughs a little. “Yeah. He’s fine. He’s a little anxious but I turned off the TV and we’re headed out to the park for a little while.”

“Good.” You look over at Aaron, who holds your eyes for a second before returning to his EMS strategy huddle.

“Be safe and come home to us soon, okay?”

“Yeah. We will. We love you. Tell Jack we -”

“ - Of course.”

+++

You follow Spencer through the debris once you’re done handling the media storm with Dave. Picking through the rubble, searching for something - anything - but not finding much.

Derek’s voice echoes through the ruined, cavernous space that used to be the main lobby. “Everything they've said and done was for a reason. But what doesn't make any sense is she switched the negotiation demand. Chris wanted to go to Switzerland. She changed it to Chad.”

“They also requested a private plane,” you note, “but no mention of a pilot.”

Spencer stops, and you almost run into him. Emily stops as well, looking back at the pair of you as Spencer organizes his thoughts. When he’s ready to speak, he says, “Guys, if you think about it, even the dates mean something. In 2004, while she was wreaking havoc abroad, he was dishonorably discharged. Then in 2008, they likely met in Chad. And now this in 2012.”

Good thought. But then again, when is one of Spencer’s thoughts bad?

It’s a decent enough question, and you run the gamut of all the surprising and absurd things Spencer’s said in your presence over the years. One in particular comes to mind.

Evil twin, eviler twin.

You hold back a little laugh, despite the harrowing circumstances.

Yeah, that one was pretty bad.

“Okay.” Derek grabs your attention again. “So, is it a coincidence that those are all election years and they attacked D.C.? Maybe this is a political statement.”

Emily’s eyes are stuck on something on the ground, but you’re not sure if it’s what she’s really looking at. “No. It's more personal than that. It's their story.”

Derek’s brow pinches. “What?”

“All of the details are a part of their story.”

She starts to leave through one of the shattered windows and you follow her back to the trailer, Spencer and Derek not far behind. She hops up the steps and you take your place beside Aaron once you’re all inside. It’s much cozier in here, with eight of you.

Spencer fills the rest of the team in on your conversation inside. Unsurprisingly, it’s rote - read like a cold script.

Emily picks up when he’s done. “Their timeline suggests they were both destructive before they met.”

“So we're talking about ex-military turning on their country.” Strauss looks and sounds skeptical, but you can’t blame her. In American culture, it’s rather incongruous.

Now who sounds like Spencer?

“It's rare, but soldiers become disenfranchised no matter what the nationality. And if he met someone like-minded at that time, there'd be no stopping them.”

“So you're thinking they met during the civil unrest in Chad in '08.” Aaron’s voice isn’t skeptical - more probing. You can see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” Spencer says. “And one or both of them are pilots.”

“So if Garcia concentrates on that region,” Emily points to an area on a map, lit up on the monitor, “specifically weapons running in and out of Libya, there's a good chance we'll find their paths crossed.”

Penelope types furiously for a moment, her fingers flying over the keys. “Okay, multiple entries into Libya for a private pilot named Matthew Downs in '08, but I don't have her name.”

“Well, because she had aliases. It's the only way to stay a ghost.”

Looks like Emily’s Interpol knowledge is coming in handy.

She continues. “Here's the thing - they are a couple. Regardless of what we believe of them, they will celebrate themselves and their connection.” She turns to Penelope, a thought sparking behind her eyes. “Is there anything that happened on this date in Chad?”

“Oh, you are good, Emily Prentiss.” Penelope types for a moment and you lean forward, watching her work. “But this news is not. Yes, there were multiple explosions on this date in '08.”

Aaron speaks from beside you. He’s a little closer than you thought, and it startles you a little.

In fairness, you’re still jumpy from the explosion.

“Where were the most casualties?”

“At a church-- no, no, a train. Yep.”

Morgan squints at the photos of the hulled-out building. “Semtex and C-4?”

Penelope nods while Aaron turns toward Strauss. “Are trains still arriving at Union Station?”

“Yes, but only the authorities are allowed in.” There’s a moment where she almost looks panicked, but collects herself as the rest of you gear up to leave.

Emily exhales down her nose. “That’s why they needed Will.”

+++

Aaron drives impossibly fast through the district. You sit in the back seat with Emily, holding onto the handles above the door for dear life.

You’ve never flashed your badge so many times in such a short period. Aaron tucked his badge into a strap of his vest, just to save time, but still has his credentials locked between his fingers as he drives. If you didn’t trust him so much, it would freak you out a little.

+++

The comm in your ear crackles as Emily speaks. “I found Will.”

“Is he mobile?” Aaron’s voice comes both from beside you and your comm - it’s a little disorienting, but you push through.

“Negative. He's got 6 transmitters on him and this whole place is gonna blow.”

There’s hardly a hesitation in Aaron’s steps as he processes the information. “All right, where are you? I'm on my way.”

He’d like to think he’s made of steel.

Sometimes he is.

“No,” Emily asserts. “You gotta get everyone out. Is the bomb squad here yet?”

“They're 3 minutes away.”

“Copy.” She sounds a little disappointed, or maybe frustrated, but doesn’t say anything else.

He turns back to you, holding you by the shoulders. “I want you leading evacuation. Get out of here.”

Tears prick at your eyes and honestly, this is the first moment you’ve really been afraid. Existentially afraid. Afraid of walking out of this train station and leaving Aaron and Emily and Will to blow up. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yep. Go.” He tries to push you away, but you resist.

“Promise?”

His brown eyes soften as his mouth presses into a thin line. “Can’t. I love you. Get outta here.”

You bounce on your toes for a second, acutely aware you’re wasting valuable time, before yanking him forward to kiss his cheek before you sprint away from him, shouting instructions to the panicked crowd as you go.

+++

You catch up with Derek, racing to catch your suspect. He corners him in an alley but can’t quite overpower him. You reach for your sidearm, but by the time you take aim, Downs is already on the ground, a gunshot ringing through the air.

Startled, you turn over your shoulder to find Aaron still staring down the sight of his Glock.

Could take an eye out, with that thing.

You sigh and holster your weapon. Derek looks plenty dazed and you don’t blame him. It’s not often he’s on the receiving end of a near-miss in close combat. He looks over your shoulder and you can see something pass between him and Aaron.

Maybe one day, Derek will know how much Aaron loves and respects him.

You watch Derek shake it off and stumble as he attempts to rise to his feet.

Today is not that day.

Coming to your senses, you trot forward and help him to his feet, brushing wayward asphalt off of him. You turn back to Aaron. “Everything alright?”

He ignores you, pressing the mic at his chest as he begins to run back toward the station. “Prentiss, what’s your status?”

+++

Seeing Will and Emily leave the building in one piece is a relief. You meet Aaron’s gaze and his eyes are exhausted. The gears in his head still whir. He’s still in game-mode, and it’s a good thing.

With the logistical nightmare of two bomb threats in one day, there’s a lot of work ahead of you.

+++

You swing back and forth in your desk chair, brain completely numb from the paperwork. It’s been a long day, and you’ve been up since three this morning, what with your flight back from California. You’re certain you’ve had longer days than this one, but you’re approaching twenty-one hours without sleep and it feels worse than you remember.

What were we planning to do today?

A bike ride and museum day with Jack seems impossibly long ago. Last week, maybe.

Derek and Emily sit on their desks, attempting to keep a conversation going without much luck.

They were house-hunting this morning.

Penelope slowly descends the stairs as Spencer turns in his seat. “The convention’s still happening tomorrow if you want to go.”

They were at a convention this morning.

Everyone had lives this morning. Weird.

She makes an uncertain noise. “That whole city-on-the-brink-of-destruction thing kinda took the wind out of my sails, you know?”

You look up at her as she takes her place beside Spencer. “It’ll get you every time.”

“You gotta watch out for that,” Emily adds. It makes you smile a little.

Derek looks a little less amused, reminding Emily they’ll have to finish the inspection another time. Between Spencer and Penelope, Emily cops to a crack in the foundation of her almost-home.

“That does not sound good,” Penelope says. You can’t help but agree.

There’s a weird look on Derek’s face, but you ignore it in favor of Strauss’s descent on the stairs.

“Our unsub,” she says, “is Izzy Rogers. She'll be charged with multiple counts domestically, and our international counterparts will have their turn with her. She will never see the light of day.” A little smile graces her lips.

You realize with the tiniest of laughs (really - it’s a one on the Aaron Hotchner scale of laugher, which means it’s hardly noticeable to the naked eye) that you don’t hate her or even dislike her as much as you used to. Maybe, you even want her around.

Don’t push it.

“I just thought you'd like to know that.”

The five of you murmur something that sounds like, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pulls Derek, probably to kick his ass for something or another and send herself back on your shit list.

That’s a problem for another time.

You take Izzy Rogers’s file from Emily, looking over an impressive rap sheet. You’re happy for a few things.

The first - that Aaron’s not a federal prosecutor anymore. This’ll be a case for the ages.

The second - you’ll never have to think about her again.

The third - you’re not sure. You’re sleep-deprived. It’ll come to you.

She cost me my precious eight hours and I’ll never forgive her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aaron leave his office. You set the file down and look up at him, halfway-hoping for once he’ll tell you to go home without him.

“Dave wants to know if everyone is free tomorrow night.”

Without any inflection at all, you reply. “We better not be doing anything tomorrow night.”

“Well,” Derek says, interrupting Emily’s snort. “If he’s buying, then I’m definitely in.”

Emily, Spencer, and Penelope jump onto Derek’s conditional acceptance and a rare smile pulls at Aaron’s face, his dimples on full display.

“Hear that? We’re in.”

+++

When you get home, Aaron all-but carries you to bed. With the tenderest of hands, he removes your shoes and socks, unbuttons your pants, slides them down your legs, and throws them in the laundry basket.

You’re practically wilting where you sit, feeling more and more like a sleepy toddler by the minute.

Aaron unbuttons your shirt and slips it off your shoulders, kissing each cheek in turn. “I’ll start a shower.”

You move to protest, but he strips and that mostly shuts you up. He starts the water before he returns to your side.

“I just want to sleep, Aar. Please.”

“Baby,” he says, a fond little pleading note in his tone. “We just changed the sheets. Do you really want to get semtex all over them?”

With a huff - “No.”

He smiles and helps you to your feet. “Didn’t think so.”

You’re so tired, it doesn't even cross your mind to take advantage of the shared shower or his lack of clothes. By the time he dries you off, tucks you in, and locks the bedroom door to ward off the over-eager six-year-old down the hall, you’re asleep.

His own exhaustion pulling at him, he doesn’t have the time or energy to cherish how peaceful, safe, and warm you look. He just draws you close to him until he can feel your heartbeat.

Sleep takes him rapidly after that.

+++

As Will and JJ exchange their vows, you tuck further into Aaron’s arms. His whisper floats past your ear, barely audible. “Wanna do that sometime?”

“What? Get married?” Your voice is just as quiet.

“Mhmm.”

“Only if it’s you.”

There’s a kiss pressed to your temple with a smile behind it. “I think I can make that happen.”

You turn your head to the side to keep your snark from carrying. “Please don’t propose to me right now. This weekend’s been long enough.”

Derek kicks the side of your foot from where he stands beside you, unable to hear the conversation but knowing you both well enough to keep you from tumbling down the rabbit hole of distraction.

Aaron presses another kiss to your temple. “I love you.” You feel it rather than hear it.

You pick up one of his hands and kiss the back of it. You don’t need to say anything.

+++

Aaron holds you close as you dance together, surrounded by your family. JJ and Will sway back and forth nearby, wrapped entirely in each other. Erin and Dave have been surprisingly brave, dancing and laughing quietly together throughout the evening.

As nice as it was to just have something for the two of you, sharing your love with your family has its own set of perks. You don’t have to hide anymore or justify your pigheaded protection of the other.

You can just… be.

+++

Eventually, Dave calls all the “...fortunately unmarried individuals to the dance floor,” and refuses to let anyone slip through the cracks.

When Aaron hangs back, drink in-hand and a little smile on his face, Dave calls him out. “Divorcés and widowers, too, c’mon.” He pauses, finding another tactic when Aaron doesn’t move. “If you’re both, you get extra points!”

Aaron rolls his eyes and you look around, finding an inappropriate amount of humor in JJ’s confused relatives. You can’t help but bark a loud laugh when you see how hard Derek’s trying to keep his mirth at bay.

Too soon for the dead wife jokes? He seems to ask. Can I laugh?

Something in your eyes gives him tacit permission and he nearly blinds you with his smile.

When Dave’s tricks fall short, you do your best to pull Aaron from the sideline with your best set of bedroom eyes. He courageously resists, so you give up and settle next to Anderson. “What do you think Dave’s come up with, this time?”

“God only knows.”

Anderson, like the rest of you, knows that Dave’s hosting abilities know no bounds.

“Because so many of you are joyfully unmarried, the newlyweds wanted to make sure there was someone else to suffer the slings and arrows of matrimony with them in the near future. Thus,” he opens his arm to JJ, who appears with her bouquet and a smile, “the bouquet toss will be an equal-opportunity event.”

With a laugh and a shake of your head, you prepare to duck out of the way.

You look over at Aaron. This is ridiculous.

He only shakes his head, hiding his smile behind his drink. And yet…

He leaves the rest of the implication unsaid, but you flip him off for good measure. Your exchange must have taken longer than you thought because before you know it, you have a face full of white roses. It’s over.

You pull the flowers from your face and level JJ with a glare across the dance floor. “Really?”

She raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “I turned my back and everything.”

There are whoops and hollers from your team and you can only roll your eyes. Derek and Will strong-arm Aaron onto the dance floor (you know he let them - if he really wanted to avoid you, they wouldn’t be able to move him an inch), where you’re both cajoled into a kiss and a photo. Penelope’s on the other side of the camera, grinning from ear to ear.

She waves at Aaron over the camera. “Smile for real, damn you!”

She amends, adding, “Sir,” for good measure. It has its intended effect and she’s rewarded with a rare, bright laugh from her unit chief.

Absurd traditions aside, you’d be lying if said you stopped smiling even once.

+++

As the party settles, some couples stay out on the dance floor, sedately twirling and swaying to the music that continues to play across the yard.

You and Aaron have relaxed significantly since the Great Bouquet Debacle, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. You’re sitting across his lap, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, with one of his arms wrapped around your middle and the other draped over your knees - the picture of relaxation.

Penelope, Derek, Emily, and Will have taken up residence on the other side of the dance floor, their heads close together and voices low.

Aaron’s eyes slide over them as he watches the room, scanning out of habit. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

You lean further into him as four pairs of eyes flicker over to you before returning to their huddle. “Us, probably.”

He hums, understanding and pensive. “Probably our sex life, right?”

“Probably,” you sigh, playing at boredom. He covers your hand with one of his and you play with his fingers - lacing, unlacing, kissing his knuckles.

It’s nice to feel safe, comfortable enough to love each other where curious eyes can see you.

You can feel his smile against your forehead as he presses a kiss between your brows.

“I mean,” you continue, “there is a lot to talk about.”

He shrugs, adjusting his arm where it lays across your legs to keep you both comfortable in the seat you share. “That’s true enough. Though, I can’t imagine any of their projections being right.”

+++

“I bet they’re into like…tantric sex. Like hours and hours and hours you know?” Penelope says, conspiracy the top note in her tone.

Derek looks at her and she backtracks, only a little on the defensive.

“What? Spencer’s talked to me about it before and I...read.”

He rolls his eyes, but Emily spares Penelope from any further interrogation.

“I could see that.” She watches the way your fingers wander over Aaron’s bare forearm, playing with the ridges of his watch, the way his thumb absent-mindedly draws small circles on your outer thigh. “Yeah, actually I think that’s exactly what happens.”

+++

“What do you think they’ve got so far?”

He plays at boredom. “They’re probably trying to take a guess at anything they can reach - with both of our profiles in Derek’s pocket, he’s going to have the most luck, I think.”

“Really?” You ask. “Not Emily?”

He snorts. “No. She has her mind on other things.”

That holds you up for a second, and you’re not sure if he’s still playing into the bit. “Wait, what do you mean?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

“She’s resigning, isn’t she?” You give up the fun and lay your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

Without thinking, his hand rises to your cheek, affectionately brushing over your cheekbone before dropping back down. “She might be.”

“Did she do that thing where she sighs really big and then looks off to the upper right middle distance?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, just enjoying the low lull of the music and the lights and the sights and smiles of your family.

“Hey.”

You lean back a little and meet Aaron’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“What’s my tell?”

The concern drops out of your face all at once. “You think I’m gonna spill just like that so you can go and change it on me? Not a chance.”

He sighs and his chin tips up in defeat. “So I have one?”

“Of course you do, stupid.” You flick his chest and a laugh rumbles through him. “Everyone does. You know mine, I know yours. You’re gonna have to get over it.”

“So you’ve caught me in lies before?” He asks, not without humor.

“Duh. I’m pretty sure I’ve caught every lie you’ve ever told, but you seemed so proud of yourself that I just let you have it.”

You can almost feel the eye roll. “Really?” He sounds skeptical. “Name one lie you’ve caught me in.”

“Alright.” You count off on your fingers. “You dinged my car door a couple of weeks ago, you definitely didn’t drop the bags at Goodwill, you do know it wasn’t Jack who finished the ice cream in the freezer, you -”

“Okay.” He covers your hands with his and kisses your fingers. “That’s enough. I get it.”

You kiss his cheek. “I’m sure you’ve caught me in every single lie I’ve ever told, too, huh?”

“Only every once since the day we met. Yours is obvious.”

It’s a trap. You don’t take it. “Hmm. That’s convenient.”

“Isn’t it?”

You lean back to look at him. “You’re a shit, you know that?”

He nods and raises his eyebrows, a cheeky, close-mouthed smile slowly creeping across his face.

You playfully smack his chest with the back of your hand. “Fucker.”

He says something under his breath and you level him with a look that has him repeating himself.

“I said, you wish.”

You roll your eyes and tuck back into his neck, kissing the skin above his collar. You can feel him shiver and you know you’ve got him. “Not just wish, honey. Know.”

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @bwbatta @wakatoshislover @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @arthurmorrgans @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @bispences @thebivirgin

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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another-fantasy-world · 4 years ago

Text

Theirs, In Every Way Possible

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Pairing: Jemily x Fem! Reader, JJ x Reader x Emily

Summary: JJ and Emily thought that their life couldn’t get any better, until they met you. However, what happens when you aren’t completely truthful to them and the team who was already a family to you?

Warnings: Canon Violence, Reader came from a serial killer family, Reader has so many traumas, Homophobia, Reader has trust issues and is very indecisive. Y/N might frustrate you. Major Character Injuries.

Word Count: 3816 words

GIF isn’t mine

This case is completely made up from the top of my head, so if there are any similarities in the episodes in CM, they were probably just carved in my brain. Also, this might be a little ooc because I can’t just seem to tap into their personalities just yet

I’m sorry, I tried making this as angsty as I possibly could, I’m still working on my angst.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were fairly new to the BAU, only working there for about 6 months, and yet you fit in really easily. It definitely helped that you were the sunshine- Penelope Garcia’s bestfriend and that Erin Strauss couldn’t bring herself to dislike you. But what matters the most to them is that fact that you were a genius. No, not like Dr. Reid genius. You understood the serial killers in a personal level, and you would often coax the weapon out of their hand and get them to submit and surrender. Of course, when they confronted you about it, you easily lied and they somehow accepted that. So much for being profilers.

You never really did know when you first started seeing the couple in a new light. Yes you liked them both. It never really mattered since you just knew that it would just fade away. It was already embedded in your brain that everyone eventually leaves and that being too close to anyone would only get them killed. You learned that the hard way. But that didn’t stop you from admiring them from the shadows. It didn’t stop you from smiling whenever they talk, it didn’t stop you from memorizing their features like they were about to vanish into thin air, it didn’t stop you from admiring how JJ controlled the media, or how Emily used that voice when she’s speaking to the unsub and it didn’t stop you from admiring how well they fit each other, how their hands fit like puzzle pieces, and how your heart clenches in awe when you see them cuddled up with each other. You didn’t know what you would do with yourself, you desperately needed to get away from them, but you also wanted and needed to be around them. God, you knew you sounded like a hormonal teenager.

“This is Daryln Garcia, Ahron Balydyn, Abbey Banagher and Jehoushua Castiel. Their names are on top of the list of the recent chain of murders all over each state.” Garcia winced at the pictures that she had to present to the whole team, she never did seem to get used to it

“Some of these are from waaaaay long before, why only now?” Emily asks from her seat , which was coincidentally next to yours

“The M.O’s are all over the place, which is why they didn’t connect the murders until now. The only thing connecting them are black sticky notes that are posted on the wall and on their body.” Rossi reads out.

“Where’s the latest one?” You ask, sipping your coffee

“...Los Angeles, California.”

“Wheels up in Five.” Hotch concludes, as everyone gets up to gather themselves.

After talking and discussing the case a bit more, You all decide to calm down for a few hours, and each and everyone of you set off to do your own things.

“Uh-huh, you’re staring at them again huh.” Garcia teased you through the screen.

Spencer was memorizing and rereading the case files,

Hotch was talking with Rossi, probably discussing the case,

Morgan has his headphones clogging his ears,

JJ and Emily were cuddling with each other as JJ munched on her cheetos.

You were currently seated away from the team, just out of earshot because you knew that Garcia would begin spouting non-sense.

“Shut up...” You blushed bright red. “...I told you this once, while I was drunk and now you bring it up in every conversation that we have. It’s just a silly little crush, sunshine. It’ll pass.” You told her, playfully glaring at the screen, to which she laughed

“Sure, Gummy Bear. Keep telling yourself that.” She grinned.

When you were about to land, you hung up on your bestfriend before steeling yourself, You didn’t need to acknowledge the gut feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you most certainly ignored the growing headache that you have.

JJ and Emily certainly noticed you right from the start. The woman who had no experience in the field whatsoever is suddenly the finest one they ever seen. (or maybe that’s just because they were so attracted to you that they happen to pay too much attention) That wasn’t the only thing they noticed though: They also noticed the tiny change in tone when you talk to either or both of them at the same time, or the way that your head would be the first to turn when they walk in the bullpen, or the way that your eyes would quickly scan them from head to toe before you bury your face into the paperwork that Hotch gave you, just a slight hint of embarrassment in your eyes peeking out from the cover or maybe it was the way that you would breathe a little heavier and talk a little faster when you discussed the case with them. You weren’t painfully obvious, but they were profilers for God’s sake, they notice everything, especially if it’s about you. There was just something so painfully attractive about you that interests them so much. The way your hair flowed as it dances with the wind, The way you licked your lips since they were dry (They tried to get you to use a lip gloss or a lip balm but you fought them, real hard.), The way your body tackled unsubs who got into your nerves (They always had to change clothes after that...), The way your eyes shined when you successfully return and reunite families, The way your mind worked: How you analyze quick, How you look at things in all angles, How you tried to put yourself in the very scene, How you work so well with Spencer and How you always seem to know what to say, every damn time. Maybe it was the way you broke social construct just by wearing a suit everytime you go to work, or it’s probably the smirks you give them when you’re right about something and they were in the wrong. (It makes them want to pounce on you, but they restrain themselves, taking their frustrations out on each other in the privacy of their own home.) But what they hate the most, it how dense you are. At this point, JJ could send you a love letter and you would think that it’s a recent case evidence.

"...This is Dr. Reid, SSA Prentiss, Y/LN, Morgan, Jareau, and Rossi."

“Right this way, we have arrested a prime suspect this morning.”

“How?” You ask, lifting two duffle bags and setting them down to your designated table

“She was found lurking around the crime scene and a bloody shirt matching one of the latest victims in his backpack.”

“Can we have her bag?” Emily asks, approaching the officer

“Yeah sure. Right this way Agent.” He leads her to somewhere while you trail Hotch to the interrogation room, only to freeze in your tracks.

“What the hell” you whispered under your breath, feeling the same suffocating aura when you felt like your past is catching up to you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” You hear Derek ask you.

“I can’t do this. I need to call Garcia. Excuse me.” You replied with a look in your eyes. Derek recognized that same look with Emily when she ran away, pursuing Doyle to protect the team, and he’ll be damned if he let’s history repeat itself.

“Nuh-uh sweetcheeks. I know that look. Tell me.” Derek grips your forearm gently.

“Derek. I promise I won’t run away. And if I’m not back within an hour, track my phone and my ring.” you assured him, pulling your phone out and hurrying outside.

“Garcia. Please tell me that my identity is still concealed.” You begged Penelope while you were stress smoking at the back of the precinct.

“It is! I promise! There’s no way they would find you! through technology at least.” she ranted. You see, Penelope Garcia doesn’t do well with secrets, but you really needed her, and she understood that. Which is why your secret is the best kept secret she has, she hid your secret for a year now.

“Then tell me why my aunt, who might I add is an absolute psychopath, is in our major suspect list right now?” you panicked, knowing that your “family” has somehow tracked you

“It might be a coincidence, Gummy Bear. But I will look into it! I promise.”

“Garcia. One more favor. Back up all my files, all of it. From my work laptop, my FBI files, my personal devices, all of it. Then delete them all. I’m going to use a disposable starting now. Pull up the GPS service for my ring, keep an eye on me at all times. I’ll be damned if I see more of my family.” You spat out, stomping out the light of your cigarette, before popping a mint.

“Consider it done. Don’t you think it’s time to tell them?” she carefully asks, knowing how sensitive you are.

“Thank you Garcia, And I will. Once the time is right.” You grumbled, knowing that it’ll be sooner than later.

“Y/N. Tell them before it’s too late. Please, for your sake and for ours too.”

“I will short stuff. I will.”

For days you successfully evaded interrogating your aunt, subtly helping them as much as you can without raising suspicion. You knew that this secrecy is going to be revealed soon

“Y/N. We picked up coffee for you.” You suddenly hear JJ behind you, Emily’s hand gently placing the coffee in front of you, her eyes filled with concern

“You didn’t go to your hotel room did you?” Emily accused

“...No” You dropped your head onto the files in front of you

“You need your sleep Y/N. You’re no use when your brain can’t even function.” JJ retorted, taking a seat beside you, with Emily by her side.

“...Fine. A nap on that sofa. That’s it.” You bargained, determination shines in your eyes

“Okay. Go.”

And then, the moment your head hits the arm rest, you blacked out. Only waking up to Derek’s frantic shaking of your body

“Y/N! Get up!” It was rare for Derek to be this panicked and scared, and that gave you anxiety

“What? What is it?!” You stood up, feeling yourself get dizzy my how fast you got up.

“JJ and Emily are gone.”

What?

“Wait- What do you mean- How long was I asleep?” You blinked

“Precisely 4 hours, 36 minutes and 56 seconds.” Reid blurts out from infront the whiteboard.

“What happened for fuck’s sake?” You sat back down, rubbling your head

“Hotch was about to send you in on a lead, but they both volunteered instead.” Rossi explained

“And no one sent backup?” You were angry, barely keeping it in, you were slowly regretting keeping your secret now

“No one knew until now, when JJ and Emily didn’t come back after an hour, Derek went after them, only to find this.” Rossi lifts up the black sticky note.

“Family for Family, Blood for Blood”

“Is it possible that Rayna Torres, is their relative?”

“ Call and Tell Penelope I said Yes.” You point to Derek, knowing that Garcia will know what to do. You’ll let your bestfriend explain, she’ll explain it better since your mind is fogged

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your face hardened, clenching your jaw. You rarely showed anger, or annoyance for that matter, so they didn’t know what to do when you stormed off in pursuit of Hotch.

You found Hotch in the interrogation room, silently observing your Aunt

“Let me talk to her.” You say, earning a nod from him

You stormed in, slamming the door behind you.

“Listen here, you little psychopath. Where are they.” His eyes widened slightly, Hotch didn’t expect you to be so hostile

“There you are. I was beginning to think that we got the wrong team.” She grinned, intertwining her fingers, her wrists still bound to the table by a handcuff.

“I am not in the mood for your games.” You deadpanned, gripping the table to conceal your anger

“Hmmn. You always did have your father’s temper.”

“WHERE. ARE. THEY.” You slammed your palms on the metal table, making a slight dent on it. Ignoring the pain, you glared at her hard

“You know where they are child. I know that you know where they are.” The devilish grin once again appeared on her face.

“If I step foot inside that warehouse, and they are not there, I can’t guarantee your head will still be attached to your shoulders when they prepare you for your casket. Auntie.” At that statement, you walked away with a surprised Hotch on your trail.

He treated you like his very own ever since you knocked on his door, crying your eyes out, ranting about your family. Of course he noticed the small slip-ups you accidentally let out especially when you’re drunk. But it was never enough to completely put the picture together. He knows that you treat him as a father figure. Which is why he can’t let you go in there alone.

“No. Absolutely not. You might die Y/N!” You raised your brow at him, the bulletproof vest never felt as heavy as it is now

“You’ve known me for 6 months, you’ve known them for years. Why are you picking me over them? You know that I’m what they want. You or any other person steps in though that door, they’re all going to be dead before they see JJ and Emily. Not to mention they might kill JJ and Emily too. Please Hotch. This is my battle. If I die, I die. I don’t want to live knowing I could’ve done something.” Those were your last words before you slowly walked to the warehouse door after getting wired.

“This really isn’t the best first impressions you could make on your future daughters-in-law. Father.” You spoke as you saw him pointing a revolver at her, at your Emily.

You almost collapse at their state. JJ’s beautiful blonde hair caked with dirt and blood, she was staring at you, shaking her head, tears welling up in her eyes. Her lip is swollen and you could see multiple bruises forming.

However, Emily’s state was much worse. Her eyebrow was bleeding, her knuckles are bruised, she has small cuts everywhere and you could see that she was struggling to stand up despite being tied by her hands to the ceiling

“This one has a sharp tongue daughter. i don’t appreciate it.” He snarled, now pointing his gun at you

“Last one who said that exact words to had his dick cut in half. Where’s my jerkwad of a brother anyways? How’s his dick? Still has my bite marks? Scars maybe?” You smirked, hearing your “mother” load her gun

“Disrespectful Bitch. Don’t talk to your brother like that, he’s better than you ever will be” She snarled, firing at your feet, slashing through your pants, making you bleed slightly, making JJ scream through her gag.

“Your aim’s getting rusty.” You pulled out both your guns, pointing them at you biological “parents”

“And you’re wearing a bulletproof vest. Take it off and kick your guns to us. You know what’ll happen if you don’t” you gritted your teeth, taking off the vest despite the protests of Hotch and the rest of the team

“Happy?” “Very.”

“Now let them go.” You frowned

“No. You see, since you do love them right?” Your father smirked, making you frown

“Yes. I do. I’m in the same team as them for fuck’s sake!”

“No. No. That’s not just it. You love them in a different way as well. Say it.”

“...” Your mother rolled her eyes at your silence and fired two bullets to Emily and JJ, scraping Emily’s cheek and JJ’s shoulder.

You flinched, you knew not to show emotion, but it’s painful to see the women you love get hurt.

“Okay! Fine! You want me to say that I love them? I will.” You gritted out

“Go on then, you know how I love my drama shows.” You glared at them, taking a deep breath in, watching them walk out of the room, a bright spotlight aligns itself on the three of you, It really is a sick TV show that your parents would love to watch.

“What they say is true. I don’t know if you noticed it yet. But I do love you, both of you. I really hoped that I could tell you over dinner, or a cup of coffee, but I guess life has other plans. Loving the both of you seems so weird, and unconventional, but who wants to be normal and boring am I right?” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, which they didn’t appreciate.

You moved your hand to their gags slowly, listening for complains from your parents, hearing none, your grabbed their gags and pull them down.

“Y/N-” They both started

“Shhh. Let me speak, you know I don’t have much time.” You smiled, implying that you wouldn’t get out of this alive.

“I notice everything. I do. I’m not as dense as you think I am. I just... I didn’t like the thought of you both getting attached to me. I love you both so much that I knew that if they catch up to me, I could die, or you could get hurt. And now this happened.” JJ shook her head as if to say it isn’t your fault.

“I love you both so much, I love the way you look at each other, often wished I could look at you both like that. I love the way you both force me to sleep then give me coffee in the morning. I love the way your brow furrows when you see a detail in the reports that displeases you, and then you’ll playfully glare at JJ and I when you notice that we’re laughing at you. There’s a lot more that I want to say to you, but I don’t have enough time.” you say, moving closer to them, tears staining their bruised cheek.

“I’ll see you in our usual spot in the coffee shop across the street?” You whisper to JJ, kissing her cheek

“I’ll be copying your move now.” You chuckle lightly, kissing her cheek

A slow clap rang throughout the room.

“Now that is a perfect drama and revenge.” You whipped your head around, only seeing your father. Pulling out your knife from your thigh, you run towards him recklessly, the screams of JJ and Emily’s pleads piercing your ears.

And then three gunshots rang throughout the warehouse, Derek kicked the door down, chasing after your laughing family. Your ears were ringing, you didn’t even notice that you collapsed from the impact. You couldn’t believe it actually worked. You could feel the sticky, red colored cornstarch mixture on your abdomen. However the growing pain on your shoulders prevented you from celebrating.

“Fuck.” You whimpered out, the impact of the bullets on your abdomen radiating throughout your body, yet you can also feel the bullet that’s still in your shoulder.

“Y/N. Stay with us come on” Emily whispered, despite her being in a worse condition that you, She still has your hand in a death grip.

“I’ll be fine Em.” You reassure her through jagged breaths, JJ’s crying face invading your view made you smile too.

The moment that Emily and JJ were free from their binds, they immediately limped towards you as fast as they can, both of them on each of your side, silently wishing that they had more time

“They only managed to shoot me on my shoulder okay? I’ll be fine.” You could see the confusion in their faces, which faded when the paramedics unbuttoned your stained white shirts, only to find another bulletproof vest and an empty plastic bag, previously filled with what they can assume was fake blood.

Emily’s eyes widen, what you did was dangerous, and extremely risky. You gambled on a unpredictable mess and she wondered how you got Hotch to approve of what you did, only to find out later that Hotch didn’t know either.

You could only smile at them, feeling the drugs the paramedics injected take effect, slowly drowsing off. You were happy they were somewhat safe. You were also happy that you managed to stab your father in his arm. Even if your brother did shoot your shoulder from behind, you were still happy with how things turned out.

Almost regretting what you did when you woke up to a staring Emily, JJ quietly handing you water, before they both scolded you like there’s no tomorrow.

However, after what seemed like ages of reprimanding from the older women, they both pecked your lips before asking you out on a date.

I guess it all worked out in the end.

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau x reader #emily prentiss x reader #jemily x reader #emily prentiss imagine

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shelby-love · 4 years ago

Text

HANK VOIGHT

Dating the Big Boss.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): mentions of r*pe and p*dophilia (it's a tough case)

Author's note: I had a lot of fun writing this one. Especially since everyone is a lot older so I could play with maturity a little. Hope you enjoyed and sorry for the long wait! I'm just starting to get back to writing.

"What's up with him?" Erin whispered when she saw Voight barge into the unit's personal quarters. Hank didn't look at any of them as he strode into his office with a frown on his face.

He was angry, that's for sure.

Still hot on his tail, your senior detective self arrived right on que with him. Every pair of eyes was on you, knowing that you were the only one who had magic to calm him. You waved your hands, dismissing their burning questions all at once. You just crossed your fingers for them all to see and walked into your lover's office without knocking.

"Hank let's talk about this," You approached him carefully.

"There's nothing to talk about here Y/N."

"Yes, there is." You sat at the edge of his desk casually, although your heart was still racing upon hearing the news delivered to you this morning. "We have a serial rapist and pedophile out there. It's okay to be affected by it honey."

"Well I don't have any leads on this case," He told you strictly, although the anxiety was visible on his shoulders. He had his back turned to you and face focused on the city in front of him. The wheels turning and working in his brain were practically visible for the whole world to see.

"Then maybe we should look into our contacts and see who can help us," You proposed quietly. "This is far from over Hank. We can still turn this around."

You could see him nod, which instantly calmed you down. "Come here."

He, as surprising as it may sound, listened to your words, and walked over to your arms.

He placed his rough hands on your thighs while you ran your hands over his arms soothingly. Eventually your cold hands grasped his face as you gave him a soft look, "Do you want me to brief the team?"

"Thank you," You giggled, still not used to those words leaving his mouth.

The two of you shared a kiss before you left him alone with his thoughts to brief the team. Upon joining them you felt tension rise again, it made you remember what you were meant to do at that moment. "Is he alright?" Erin asked you quietly. You only managed to nod your head before ushering her to her seat.

Then you took a stand in front of them, a file filled with gore pictures secure in your hand. "A few days ago we found a female that was beaten, raped and murdered just outside the Riverwalk area. She was found in a dumpster just outside the Belle Hotel. Roughly 9 years old and unfortunately not the only case."

You spoke with authority that matched Voight's to a certain level. As a senior to all of them it was your job to deliver the details loud and clear. "There have been a few more cases similar to this one. Brody Thompson declared as missing just over a week ago was found two days ago in an area like this one. His left pinky was cut of just like the first victim's..." You placed a picture of a little boy on the board.

"Same MO?" Erin asked, scribbling things vigorously into her notepad. You nodded sadly.

"Are all of the victims children?" Burgess asked from the other side of the room. When you bobbed your head to her in confirmation you could practically see the heartbreak that struck her.

"We believe that we're dealing with a serial rapist and pedophile." You sighed.

"The MO is unique, and it doesn't look like he's been very careful with where he dumps the bodies," Jay notes. "It should be easy to find him since he's bound to make a mistake."

"That's where it gets tricky," You tell him, appreciating his quickness in noticing the details. "These are only cases reported in Chicago within the last few weeks. If we expand the search, which we did, there are dozens of other reported cases all around Ohio, Virginia, Rhode Island and lastly… New York."

A cool cloak of silence fell over the room once you've finished marking the spots. "Some date back to 10 years so we're looking for someone in his early to mid-forties. Maybe even older. Virginia State Police was only able to give us cases within the last 5 years, and we've hit four matches so far."

"Why are they handing the case to us? NYPD should be able to handle this." It was Alvin who had asked that question to which you opened your mouth to answer immediately.

But Hank, your boyfriend and partner, was quicker.

"Because we're the most qualified to do it," He explained, voice booming across the room. He joined your side and placed his hand on your hip; it was that after all, only the members of this very unit knew about you two. "Now, I've pulled out some old contacts from New York. They should be arriving here on the first jet they get their hands on. Until then I want you guys everywhere."

When his gaze slid to yours a twinkle of determination shone within his irises, "Let's get this son of a bitch."

***

"Sargent Benson," you greet the woman that just descended the stairs of the jet. The only people on the tarmac are the two of you and the officers you brought here. "Thank you for coming on a such short notice."

"Voight sounded stressed when he called. Is he alright?" She asked you quietly, matching your footing and walking toward the black SUV next to you.

You shook your head, "This case has been really hard on us is all. It's not every day we have cases like this one."

"Well, our job isn't pretty." She agreed. "Rape cases are already hard on their own."

"But when it's kids…"

"Do you have kids, detective?"

"None that are my own."

"Then I guess you're lucky."

"I suppose so."

***

The drive back to the district wasn't all that comfortable. Benson carried an air of importance around her that would get some rookies sweating with nerves.

Decades in this line of work showed just how good of a match you were for her.

"Hey Trudy," You greeted your friend in passing. Benson was hot on your heels as you lead her upstairs.

Upon reaching your destination you felt her walk straight pass you into Hank's arms. She brushed her hand against the lapels of his jackets when she asked him how he was doing. You felt your chest rise with jealousy but that diminished quickly when you saw him lead her to his office.

"You're not seeing that?"

"Seeing what Jay?"

The younger man narrowed his eyes at you, "She's obviously into him."

You sent him a glare. "We're not kids Jay, we're adults that lived long enough to see what's worthy being petty about and what's not."

"If you say so."

You rolled your eyes, but still went to retrieve your man, nevertheless.

***

You knocked twice before Voight let you in. "Sorry detective, this is a private conversation."

It was Benson who had told you this. You fought an eyebrow that wanted to rise.

"Y/N runs this unit as much as I do," Your boyfriend interfered. "She can stay."

You smiled, that not being able to suppress. "What do you have?"

"A possible location," She told you, still eerie about you being there.

You perked your eyes at that, taking your usual seat in Voight's office. Hank came to stand behind your chair, hands on the back of it. Olivia eyed you quietly and came to retrieve some papers. With her back turned to you both you turned your head, eyes travelling to Voight. Silently, you asked about what was going on. He only shook his head and pressed his hand against your shoulder, rubbing it in comfort.

Olivia saw the interaction and raised her brow.

***

You held your M16 in your hands securely. Officers were bustling all around you, greeting you in passing. The house in front of you looked like a fortress having god knows what protecting it. "We don't go in by force. There are still kids inside."

While the members of your unit nodded in agreement, a few voiced their distaste.

"We go in now. Cut off his ability to retaliate."

"I understand Olivia, but-"

"Sergeant."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm your sergeant. Let's keep it that way."

You gritted your teeth, seemingly offended by the fact that she had used the chain of command to put you in your place.

"My sergeant is Voight. I answer only to him," You corrected her. "I just want those kids to come out of there alive, and that's not going to be possible if we barge in. He'll panic. Kill them instantly."

"Why don't you go in then?" She proposed. "Scope and give us inside information so we can work our way around it. You find the kids and let us do the rest."

You thought about it. "I need –"

"Nothing." Your sergeant appeared by your side, eyes hard and body as still as a rock. Unlike Benson, you could see his anger. You almost reached out to calm him. "You're not doing it."

"This could be our shot." You told him.

He only shook his head, "Trust me it's not. A word, sergeant?"

She nodded and followed him.

You watched as the distance became bigger.

Jay and Adam came to stand next to you, Adam at your right side and Jay at your left.

"Holy hell." Adam muttered.

"She almost got you killed." Jay commented after him.

"Holy hell indeed guys."

***

"Hank I'm trying to do right by these kids!"

"The hell you are," Hank outright yelled at her. As the only person at the scene that had guts to stand up to her, he took the chance to put her in her place. "The way I see it you want Y/N in direct danger with no back up."

She stayed silent.

"You don't get to boss around my unit. Especially not my most trusted detective."

"Oh, come on Hank." She sighed, not quite believing what she was hearing.

"You're here to assist. The case is still mine so don't get ahead of yourself."

And with that, he left her to be.

"We're waiting for him. SWAT is on standby."

You smiled gratefully at him before mouthing a thank you.

***

"You did great today," You complimented him, smiling from ear to ear. All the children that went missing within the last few weeks have been found alive. Wounded yes, but alive. And the man was, much to your satisfaction, shot dead when he tried to run. By none other than yourself. Being able to put down a monster like him brought you satisfaction.

It brought Hank pride too.

He pulled you in by the hip and rested your back against the wall. Chicago was lightly lit up outside, bringing peaceful atmosphere to the district. Your fingers brushed against his rigid jawline; eyes locked with his.

Kisses between you two were shared ever so often at work. While you would both usually leave to the privacy of your home, today was a day you both needed reassurances immediately.

Your lips were pressed together and moving in a way possible for only people with experience.

When someone opened the door without knocking, you pushed him away in fright. Hank didn't even stumble as he narrowed his eyes at the person who had intruded.

"Sergeant Benson?!" You shrieked, cheeks flushing a bright red.

"It all makes sense now." She mused.

MASTERLIST

#hank voight #hank voight fanfiction #hank voight imagine #hank voight imagines #hank voight x reader #chicago #Chicago PD #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader

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kuroopaisen · 5 years ago

Text

the in-between | i (kuroo tetsurou)

➵ it took you and kuroo 24,000 words and 69 pages of pure behemoth far too long to learn that love was never singularly defined. it can be both striking and understated, sudden and unhurried, gentle and all-consuming. and most of all, it can be anything else in-between.

wc: 9k (part 1 of 3)

warnings: f!reader, good old f2l (do i write anything else?), depictions of anxiety & depression, cursing

a/n: i cannot thank @w-yuren enough for all the love and care she poured into beta-ing this :( i’m honestly so touched you worked through this absolute monstrosity w me (and put up w my incoherence) ren u deserve the world <3 (also @jupiturde erin ilysm thank you for reading this over So Many times you’re incredible!!)

m. list | ch. 1 ↠ ch. 2

"I'll help you," Kuroo sighed. "On one condition."

The scant bit of confidence you’d worked up was starting to crumble. You clenched your fists, steeling yourself. At this point, you're willing to do just about anything.

"Manage the volleyball team for a while."

Your face fell. "What, really?"

"Mhm," Kuroo nodded, still slouched over his desk.

"You're kidding, right?"

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh."

This wasn't quite how you’d expected the situation to go. And quite frankly, you were just upset that you were even in this situation in the first place. But, who wouldn't be?

Begging Kuroo Tetsurou to help you with chemistry wasn’t a situation you’d envisioned yourself ending up in. But, something had to be done about those abysmal exam marks. Your grades in everything else were fine; good, even. Certainly high enough to earn you your spot in Class 5. But that chemistry grade was something to be concerned about. Your homeroom teacher had warned you as much on the very first day of the school year.

And for the handful of weeks since, you’d been driving yourself mad trying to think of a solution. Hard work had only gotten you so far, and none of your friends felt they were competent enough to tutor you. You needed help – desperately.

So there you stood, in front of the desk of a boy you’d never had a proper conversation with before, asking for his help – all while uncomfortably aware that this was cutting into his lunch break.

You hadn’t quite known what to expect from this interaction. You weren't really friends, after all; you’d been vaguely aware of him over this past year and a bit, but knew little, if anything, about him. All you knew was that he was topping the grade when it came to chemistry, and therefore, turning to him in this time of need might help.

You hadn't expected this ultimatum.

"Why?"

It was a genuine question.

"Hm?"

"Why ask me to be your manager?" You asked, tilting your head at him. "I know nothing about volleyball."

"You'll learn."

You frowned. "This is the only way you'll tutor me?"

"It's not the only way," Kuroo shrugged, raising an eyebrow at you. "But it'd certainly bump it up my priority list."

The worst thing was that it didn't even seem like he was trying to be a dick.

Right, you thought. Pros and cons.

Cons: being a manager would eat up a lot of your time. Presumably. Maybe. You didn't have any real idea.

Also, it would mean spending a lot more time around sweaty boys. That sounded kind of gross.

And what time did practice finish? Walking home after sunset was always a little scary. Certainly scary enough to stoke a bit of anxiety.

More importantly, it sounded like responsibility. Maybe you were overestimating just what being a manager meant, but it sounded like there was plenty of stuff you could mess up.

Pros: it'd look really, really good on your college applications.

Just like a passing chemistry grade would. Which you weren't going to get all on your own.

“It doesn’t have to be for long,” he offered, raising an eyebrow at you. “Just a couple of months. And I’ll be your resource to use as you please.”

You blinked at him, baffled at his choice of phrasing.

“How about you just drop by practice this afternoon?” He suggested, balancing his chin on his fist. “You can get a feel for it.”

You sighed.

“Alright.”

You were willing to do just about anything, after all.

✧ ✧ ✧

Teenage boys, no matter how polite or kind or accommodating, are always scary in packs.

That little revelation came to mind as you pressed yourself meekly against the wall of the gym, watching a gaggle of boys running back and forth, jumping and hitting and shouting. Part of you wanted to melt into the wall, hoping that none of these giants would pay you much attention.

You’re painfully aware of one of them staring at you; a first-year, judging by his use of honorifics. He’s tallish, but not enough to be scary, with close-cropped hair and grumpy eyebrows. There’s a certain intensity to him – he seemed like the sort of person with too much tenacity for his own good.

And yet, he seemed terrified of you. Was he the sort of boy who couldn’t talk to girls?

You smiled to yourself. Such dichotomy in one personality, huh?

There was another boy that caught your eye. A quiet one, with chin-length black hair who seemed to want to sink into the ground. He didn’t look like the sort of boy you’d expect to find on a high school sports team. He was a little shorter than everyone else – except for Yaku, who’d greeted you quite amiably when you’d first arrived.

But Yaku seemed like he wanted to be there. Like he enjoyed it. This kid? He looked like he just wanted to melt into the shadows. He always flinched whenever anyone called out to him. Hell, he seemed to flinch even when someone so much as looked at him. Was he okay? Should you ask if he’s okay? Should you point him out to Kuroo? But Kuroo had already spoken to him a few times…

Well, checking in with people’s well-being would be part of your job as a manager, right? It’d be your duty to make sure that the club members were doing okay.

But practice was still going. You’d have to put a pin in that thought.

The third years were frightening, as expected. But, you felt as though your upperclassmen would always be somewhat scary. The captain had traded a handful of words with you – hellos, nice to meet yous, a what are you even doing here – but he hadn’t made any particular point to help you out.

That job was left to the coach, who, thankfully, seemed quite kind. You had said very little to him, but you could tell that he loved his job just from the serene smile that graced his face as he watched his team go at it.

Practice was over before you knew it. The sun was setting outside the windows, the sky blushing orange. You bit your lip. Maybe you’d be able to get home before it got too dark…

You sighed, turning your gaze back to the gym floor. Maybe you should try talking to one of the boys… Yaku had always been friendly. Maybe he’d tolerate a conversation with you? Oh, what about Kai? He’d been very quiet, but he seemed nice… There was Kuroo, too…

You pressed your lips together, eyes scanning over the gaggle of boys in front of you as your mind ran through the pros and cons all at once.

You frowned. The third years were yapping at that quiet boy; whatever they were saying, it didn’t seem exactly friendly. You froze. Should you do something? Was this normal? Was it a problem? He looked terrified – not that he showed it outright, but it was in his eyes.

Kuroo was standing behind him, saying something to one of the third years. You couldn’t quite hear them, but Kuroo’s expression was… cold. Not confrontational, just unyielding. Whatever he’d said, the third years stalked away.

You watched closely as Kuroo’s expression softened as he looked at the shorter boy. He looked concerned. Were they friends?

“Oi, manager chick!”

You cringed. It’s one of the third years – not the captain, but someone you’d noted had quite the nasty serve.

“Help clean up!”

“Right!” You gave a quick half-bow, your head flicking around almost frantically as you looked for something to do.

You settled for collecting stray balls, rushing them back to the ball bins. All the while you watched the sky darken beyond the gym windows – and with it, your anxiety began to blossom.

By the time you were picking up your bag to go home, the sky was positively black. You bit your lip as you stared out the gym windows, your eyebrows a little furrowed.

“Hey.”

You looked up, a little startled. Kuroo, forehead slick with sweat and cheeks tinged red from exertion. You resisted the urge to scrunch up your nose. Being this close to a sweaty teenage boy wasn’t high on your priorities list.

“What’d you think?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a towel.

You shrugged. “Seems intense.”

“But you don’t hate it, right?” He smiled. It’s hopeful. Almost pitifully so.

You bit the inside of your cheek. In truth, you didn’t. There’s something quite fun about watching them play volleyball up close. They all got so into it. It was always nice, watching people care about something so deeply that enjoyment seeped through every part of their being.

“We’ll see,” you said. “Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow.”

He smiled brightly at that half-promise. Brightly enough that you knew you didn’t want to let him down.

This side of him was already a far cry from that trickster-like figure you’d negotiated with this morning.

“Hey, uh…” He cleared his throat, one hand finding its way to the back of his head. “I was wondering… did you need me to walk you home? I know it’s getting kind of late, so…”

You felt something that’s not quite elation, but certainly a bit more intense than relief. Tokyo’s a safe enough place, yes, but that fact’s never enough to quell the anxiety you’d always felt from walking home in the dark.

“If it’s not too much trouble.” You tried to make your smile look relaxed and natural, but you knew some hint of tension had made its way in there.

“Cool,” Kuroo said, giving you a little nod as his eyes scanned your face. He relaxed his shoulders a bit, slouching down a little. Was he… trying to make himself smaller? “But, uh… where do you live?”

By some miracle, it’s not all that far from his place. You caught the relief on his face, even if he made an effort to hide it. Would he really have walked you all the way to your house, even if it wasn’t in the same area?

He didn’t give you time to think about it, turning around and waving a hand in the air.

“Hey, Kenma!”

Your brows rose instinctively as the shy kid scurried over, head hunched down and hands stuffed into his pockets.

“This is Kenma,” Kuroo smiled, nodding at him. “He’s my next-door neighbour.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled, tilting your head at him.

“Yeah,” Kenma nodded in a quiet response, not quite able to meet your eyes. You didn’t press it. You offered him your name quickly, a bit like an afterthought, but Kenma gave you a little nod in recognition.

“You guys ready to go?” Kuroo looked between the both of you, tilting his head at the door.

You glanced over at Kenma. He didn’t glance back.

“Yeah,” you nodded, relieved that you wouldn’t have to walk the dark streets on your own.

✉

[YOU] 7:21 PM: hello! Is this kuroo?

[Kuroo] 7:34 PM: you got it

[YOU] 7:36 PM: thank goodness! I just wanted to say, thank you for walking me home today. I was a bit worried about it, but I didn’t want to impose

[Kuroo] 7:38 PM: not a problem. I’m more than happy to do it again tomorrow

[Kuroo] 7:38 PM: since you are coming to practice, right?

[YOU] 7:40 PM: Sure :)

✧ ✧ ✧

Kuroo Tetsurou hadn’t been what you’d expected.

For one thing, he’d actually made good on your deal. You’d half-expected him to bail on tutoring you – though you couldn’t exactly say why. But, you supposed it would be hard for him to dodge the ire of his club manager. Regardless, he dedicated most afternoons to helping you study.

You’d meet up in the library before practice and you’d always start with chemistry. He was actually kind of good at explaining the concepts to you in a way you understood, without all the bells and whistles. He had a way of simplifying the concepts to their bare bones. That’s not to say that it wasn’t difficult; you still felt like you’d been left far, far behind. But, Kuroo was something of a comfort.

Somehow, you’d end up working on other subjects. Apparently, Kuroo’s surprisingly bad at literature. He was doing well enough, but it was something he just couldn’t wrap his head around. Maybe you’d been a bit gung-ho about offering your help, but you were just glad you finally had something to offer in this arrangement. Even though you were still managing the volleyball team, overwhelming as that could be sometimes.

But, you’d made a deal, and the whole manager business was less scary than you’d first thought. And you felt that with time, you’d get the hang of it. Maybe.

More often than not, your study session before practice wasn’t enough time to cover all the content you needed. So, sometimes, you’d continue it after practice, holed up in the library until you got kicked out. Kenma usually stuck with you guys, sitting in the corner with whatever game console he’d brought that day.

And without fail, Kuroo walked you all the way to your house every night. And during those walks, you talked. Rather animatedly.

“What I’m saying is that the divide between the arts and the sciences is arbitrary,” Kuroo shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “When they work together, incredible things happen. Genuine art happens.” He cocked his head at you, that perceptive grin of his spread across his face. “You’d really disagree with me on that?”

“I didn’t say I disagree,” you grinned. “I’m just surprised that you’re not one of those sciencey people who thinks that the arts are worthless.”

He scoffed at that, shaking his head. “Excuse you. I’ve got more nuance than that.”

“Sorry for doubting you,” you giggled.

“You better be.”

The thing you’d been most surprised about, above everything else, was just how enjoyable it was to talk to him. How easy it was to get lost in a conversation that most of your other friends might get bored by. It’s not that your other friends treated you badly, but Kuroo had a way of naturally drawing out your thoughts, and he usually treated them with enough respect to engage with them. Of course, there were times when he loved to tease, and you’d learnt to not take it too personally.

Kuroo Tetsurou was far more interesting than you’d first given him credit for. And you felt kind of bad for that. You’d known he wasn’t just some dumb jock – he wasn’t topping chemistry for nothing – but you hadn’t expected him to be so… clever. So playful. So fun to talk to.

You were beginning to feel that maybe, just maybe, he was someone you could end up being quite close to.

✉

[YOU] 10:41 PM: hey, kuroo?

[Kuroo] 10:46 PM: what's up?

[YOU] 10:47 PM: i was just wondering, why did you ask me to become manager?

[Kuroo] 10:48 PM: oh ahaha

[Kuroo] 10:48 PM: i thought having an extra pair of hands around would help the coach out a bit

[YOU] 10:48 PM: wait really

[YOU] 10:48 PM: that's it?

[Kuroo] 10:50 PM: ??????

[YOU] 10:51 PM: you were so seedy about it!

[Kuroo] 10:51 PM: was i?

[YOU] 10:52 PM: i–

[Kuroo] 10:53 PM: :)

✧ ✧ ✧

“Kenma wants to quit.”

Your head shot up, turning to Kuroo with wide eyes. “What?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, one hand raking through his hair. “The third years have been giving him a really rough time.” He bit his lip, glancing at you. “You’ve seen it yourself.”

You swallowed. “I hoped I was just being too sensitive, but…”

Kuroo groaned, running a hand down his face. “They’re such assholes.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. The third years had almost made you want to quit in the early days. They were scary, sharp, unrelenting. But they’d left you alone pretty quickly once you’d settled into the thrum of your responsibilities.

Kenma hadn’t been so lucky.

“Is he okay?” You murmured, brows knitted together. “I mean, I know he’s getting picked on, but is he… is he… I don’t know…”

“I get it,” Kuroo sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. He doesn’t really talk about that sort of stuff.”

You set your pen down on the dining table, shifting in your chair to face him directly.

Practice had been cancelled for the afternoon, and Kuroo had bustled you out of school before you even had a chance to ask why. You’d been surprised when he had asked if the two of you could study at your place that afternoon – and some part of you had dreaded what your parents might say about you bringing a boy home – but you’d conceded. He’d seemed stuck in his head; something not unusual for him, but he’d been just withdrawn enough to pique your concern.

This must’ve been why.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I don’t want to push him too hard or anything, but I don’t think he’s making the right choice.”

You bit your lip.

“Why?” You asked, feeling bold.

“Huh?”

“Tell me why you don’t want him to quit,” you said. “Other than the obvious.” You sat up a little straighter, grabbing your notebook and picking up your pen. “We can brainstorm together.”

“Other than the obvious?” He tilted his head at you.

“You know,” you shrugged. “I know you want him to stay around because he’s your best friend, but... there’s more to it, right?”

“Well…” Kuroo swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as he leant back in his chair. “We’re not gonna get very far without him.”

You scribbled that down quickly. “Why’s that?”

“He’s a good strategist,” Kuroo said carefully, “And he’s great at running through all the potential outcomes on the spot. And nobody on the team’s as observant as he is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you transcribed. You weren’t narcissistic enough to think you knew Kenma better than Kuroo did. Nor did you want to presume you were closer to the second-year than you actually were. But you wanted to help.

“Why don’t you… explain that to him?” You asked, peering down at your notebook.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… just tell him the logical reasons you want him to stick around,” you shrugged. “I think he’d respond well to that.”

“I guess…” Kuroo pursed his lips, looking at you with a frown.

“What I’m trying to say is that… maybe putting it into terms that’ll resonate with him is the best way to go.” You weren’t quite sure if your point was getting across. You just had to hope that he understood.

“I get you,” he nodded, crossing his arms. “I dunno if it’ll work though.”

“He’ll listen to you,” you mused, propping your hand on your chin.

“Huh?”

“It’s obvious you mean a lot to him,” you shrugged. “Even if he doesn’t really use his words to express that.”

Kuroo blinked at you, a touch of pink to his cheeks.

“I mean, he’s stuck it out with volleyball this long, hasn’t he?” You smiled at him, watching his cheeks grow even pinker. “That’s because of you.”

He cleared his throat as he looked down at his lap. It was strange to see him so… speechless. He was the sort of person that always had a comeback. You were never able to get a one up on him. Sincerity, however, seemed to be his hamartia.

“I just… I wanna go as far as I can with this team,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, me and the other second years… when we first joined the team, we were asked about our goals.”

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “We all said that we wanted to win nationals.”

He wasn’t quite sure why he was telling you all this. He didn’t know where it came from. But he knew he’s grateful to be able to just talk. To share this with someone.

“Yaku and I used to fight all the time,” he smiled sheepishly, casting his gaze at you.

“I can see that,” you giggled. There was always a little fire between the two of them; it’d given you a good laugh many times.

“It was kind of stupid, but… we got over it. We learned to work together,” Kuroo sighed.

“I feel bad for poor Kai,” you smiled.

Kuroo laughed. “Yeah…” He sighed as he leaned over the table, resting his chin on his folded arms. “Nekoma used to be hot shit, you know.”

“Did we?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Made it to nationals a couple of times. But, we sort of… fell off. We haven’t been as good as we could be for a while. And… I want to change that.”

He pressed his lips together, his brows furrowing. “We can’t do that if we don’t work together. And I know that sounds obvious, but… we need to focus on our teamwork more. We’ll only be great if we all learn to rely on and trust each other. We’ve gotta make the best use of all our strengths while covering our weaknesses.”

You nodded, making a little noise of agreement. You couldn’t help but smile as you listened to him. This side of Kuroo – this genuine, honest one – was quickly becoming your favourite.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, sitting up straight. “Didn’t mean to ramble at you there.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” You shook your head. “Ramble all you’d like.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you for that, but he was smiling.

“Hey, Kuroo?” Normally, you wouldn’t have thought to ask the questions that were currently poking at the back of your mind. But he’d just been so honest, so open with you in a way he’d never been before. Maybe it was okay to be a little bit curious. Just this once.

“Hm?”

“I have a genuine question,” you said, folding your hands in your lap.

He looked at you, pouting a little.

“Why volleyball?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, brow creased ever so slightly. Usually, he’d just dodge a conversation like this; not because he was particularly embarrassed by it or anything like that, but because he didn’t want to talk about himself too much. He didn’t want to be rude and dominate the conversation.

But, you were asking. And, you seemed genuinely interested.

A little bit of sincerity wouldn’t hurt, right?

“My family moved here when I was pretty young,” he said, shrugging. “And I didn’t really… know how to make friends. Before I moved, I’d been part of a volleyball team. All my friends were on it, and… I had to move away from them.”

It was a little strange, trying to pull up all these memories. And trying to condense them was harder than he’d expected. “When I first met Kenma, we just played video games. I didn’t really… know how to talk to him. But he agreed to play volleyball with me, and that made things so much easier. I had something to talk about.”

You smiled to yourself, the image of a shy little Kuroo more endearing than it should be.

“I even convinced him to go to a weekend class with me,” he smiled, looking down. “You know, I even remember when I first met Coach Nekomata.”

“Huh?” You frowned.

“The old coach who used to work here. Rumour is he’ll come out of retirement sometime soon,” he smiled.

You nodded, even though you didn’t quite understand.

We bumped into him at one of those classes,” Kuroo said. “He told me, ‘do what you love, and success will come.’ I still think about that.”

Do what you love, and success will come. Yeah, that definitely sounded like something that’d resonate with Kuroo.

“Anyway, I joined the team in middle school, and that made it a lot easier to make friends,” Kuroo shrugged. “I don’t know. I love volleyball. Have for as long as I can remember. It’s fun. And… it helped me connect with people, even when… even when I couldn’t find the right words.”

He looked at you, a bit more tentative than usual. But, you were smiling, your chin propped up on one of your palms as you listened to him talk.

“Believe it or not, but I was a really shy kid.” He didn’t know why he’s still talking. And honestly, he’s a little embarrassed by it. But, you’re still listening. And for that, he’s grateful.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you grinned.

His eyes widened a little. “Huh?”

“You think so much,” you mused, looking upwards. “But, like… in the way introverts do, you know?” You blushed, looking down at your hands. “Well, I mean… I tend to overthink everything I say, right?”

“No, really?” Kuroo gasped, covering his mouth with one hand.

“Shush,” you shot him a half-glare, suppressing the urge to stick your tongue out at him like a child. “It’s just that… I see a little bit of that in you, too. Not… massively, but it’s there.”

You couldn’t quite read his expression. It wasn’t one you��d seen before. And honestly, he wouldn’t know how to describe it himself. He was caught between the relief at being seen, at being understood, and the embarrassment of being called out. People didn’t tend to pick up on that part of him – and yet, you had.

He wasn’t used to being the one getting read.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I really didn’t mean to ramble so much.”

“Oi,” you giggled, “I said it’s fine, didn’t I?”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“It’s nice that you care so much about the game.” You were smiling at him. Nothing unusual. But the look in your eyes was so genuine, so bright that he could feel his face burning up from looking at it.

“Yeah,” he smiled, breaking eye contact with you. God, he really didn’t know what to do in conversations like these. “Anyway, should we get back to chem?”

✉

[closet introvert] 9:22 PM: so

[YOU] 9:25 PM: so

[closet introvert] 9:25 PM: i think i’m gonna try to talk to kenma after school tomorrow

✧ ✧ ✧

If there was one thing you were fairly decent at as manager, it was looking after the first and second years. Bit by bit, you’d worked up an adequate rapport with each of them, and you had most of their personalities sorted out. Most importantly, you knew what to do when they were down.

You just had to let Yaku rant – let him shout and gripe and swear, and he’d be okay. Kai liked a constructive conversation, had in soft, measured tones, and offering a solution or two. Yamamoto wanted fire and conviction, a challenge to do better, to be better. Fukunaga liked a distraction, something to take his mind off of whatever was bothering him. Kenma liked to be left alone to sort things out for himself – but you were permitted to make him a care package or two.

You’d known Kuroo long enough by now to know that he was rather reticent when it came to his own feelings. He wasn’t the sort to talk about them upfront; you had to peer at the silences and the spaces between his words to find out what he really meant. You had to look at his behaviour; he was never too straightforward. That sort of thing seemed to overwhelm him.

That presented a bit of a problem. If he didn’t want to talk about his feelings, he simply wouldn’t. He’d deflect the conversation, or downplay how he was feeling. Sometimes he gave you bits and pieces, but he rarely spilled his true thoughts and feelings. They were exceedingly difficult to draw out of him – he had to offer them up himself. And most of the time, he bounced back pretty quickly from his more melancholic moods on his own.

But not today.

Kuroo wasn’t exactly loud. At least, not in the same way Yamamoto was – or that rambunctious wing spiker from Fukurodani. It was well within Kuroo’s abilities to be obnoxious, but he wasn’t loud. But even for him, he was being uncharacteristically quiet today.

Practice had gone fine, as far as you could tell. Nothing had gone obviously wrong, and nobody had gotten injured. From your perspective, things had even gone well. Admittedly, your knowledge of volleyball didn’t run particularly deep just yet, but you were trying your best.

Kuroo was usually so bright after practice, always grinning or cackling at something despite his exhaustion. Half the time he’d point things out to you, explaining certain moves they’d practised or formations they were trying out.

But today, he’d just picked up his bag dourly, waiting at the door for you and Kenma to leave. He’d said very little on the walk to the train station when usually he’d be rambling about something or other. You and Kenma exchanged a look; he was just as concerned as you were.

And just like you, he didn’t know how to breach the conversation.

“So… how do they even work?” You asked, blinking down at Kenma’s DS screen.

You couldn’t stand the silence for much longer. And you knew that a sure-fire way to get Kenma talking was by asking him about video games – especially optimization.

“EVs are gained by defeating specific Pokemon,” Kenma murmured. “If you defeat a Pokemon with naturally high HP like Chansey, you’ll gain EVs towards your own HP. However, you can only gain 252 EV’s towards any one stat.”

You nodded, opting to let him ramble. Usually, Kuroo would’ve led the conversation between the three of you. But, you’d valiantly taken that task up yourself today – and the easiest way to help things go smoothly was to get Kenma on a roll.

“You can gain a maximum of five-hundred and twelve total, so realistically you can only optimise two stats at a time,” he continued, eyes still glued to his screen. You took a moment to glance at Kuroo. He was staring out the window of the train, his expression worryingly forlorn. Was he even listening?

“IVs are a Pokemon’s innate capabilities.” Kenma was still going. You made an affirmative noise in the back of your throat, nodding. “A Pokemon with a high attack IV will have a naturally higher attack stat than a Pokemon with a low attack IV, even at the same level.”

On the one hand, it was nice to know that Kenma was comfortable enough with you to ramble like this. It was also nice to see Kenma talking freely; a rare and precious sight.

On the other hand, it just made you more stressed about Kuroo. He hadn’t breathed a word the entire ride. He hadn’t even taken a moment to gaze fondly at Kenma while he was rambling. And he always did that when Kenma was on a roll.

You managed to ask enough questions to fill the distance to Kenma’s house. He was speaking more than usual. That much was obvious, yes – but even for a Kenma that was geeking out, this was unusual.

And with the way his gaze kept flicking to Kuroo, you knew it was because he was truly, deeply concerned.

Kuroo still made somewhat of an effort to say goodbye to Kenma, despite his mood. The usual “make sure you don’t go to sleep too late, okay?” and “make sure you drink enough water, so you don’t get a headache.”

But before Kenma walked through his front door, he looked at you. And when you looked back, he held eye contact. Then he looked very pointedly at Kuroo, who was staring up at the sky. By the time you turned to look at Kenma again, he was already scurrying through his front door.

“You ready?” Kuroo asked, now looking at you.

You nodded, half-jogging to join him on the street. Even today, even when it seemed like he just wanted to go home and sleep, he was still walking you home. Sure, your house wasn’t all that far from his, but he still went out of his way every night, just to make sure you felt comfortable.

That quiet thoughtfulness was part of who he was. You’d seen him direct it at Kenma all the time.

The same Kenma who’d just sent you a silent plea.

The Kenma, who never looked you in the eyes for longer than half a second.

The Kenma, who had just asked you to speak to his best friend.

That was all the push you needed.

“Hey, Kuroo?” You murmured.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” You asked.

Kuroo looked at you, one eyebrow raised. He was torn.

Should he really burden you with this? Was it right for him to worry you again?

But you’re looking at him with such genuine concern, such genuine care. And the advice you’d given him when he was worried about Kenma had been both helpful and effective. And surely, you wouldn’t have asked that question if you didn’t want a proper answer, right?

Fuck it, he thought.

“I feel like I’m not measuring up,” he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “My blocking hasn’t been improving. And I don’t know why. I’ve been trying to work on my read blocking but I just can’t get it down. I can’t even fix the problem because I don’t know what the problem is.”

He took a deep breath, his steps slowing to a stop. “I convinced Kenma to stay on, but I’m not a team-mate he can be proud of.”

“Kuroo…”

You looked at him, cloaked in the shadows of the street. His gaze was cast at the ground, his brow furrowed and the smallest of pouts on his lips. You wanted to hug him, but you weren’t sure if that’d help.

You didn’t quite know what to say. You knew what it was like to get caught up in your own insecurities – you were sure most people did. You knew he couldn’t see himself the way you saw him; tenacious, hard-working, passionate.

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” you murmured. No, that was too soft – too wishy-washy. “I know that it… seems kind of silly for me to say, but you are.”

You clenched your fists to steel yourself, taking a step closer to him. That got his attention – he looked up at you, eyes slightly wide.

“You feel like you’re not measuring up, or that you’re not improving… but I don’t see it that way.” It was true. You watched him push himself harder each and every day, improving little by little. And when he wasn’t, he’d learn from those mistakes.

“It must be easy to lose yourself on the court, but from where I’m standing… you’re improving every day.” Your eyes searched his face, looking for any indication that your words were having some kind of impact.

“And… you don’t need to be the world’s best middle blocker, you know?” You said, tilting your head at him. “You’re good, Kuroo. And you know you’ve got space to improve – that’s your strength. That makes you a team-mate worth being proud of.”

He was staring at you, eyes still wide. The dim light of the street hid the blush on his cheeks. For that, he was thankful.

“Uh…” He felt like he should say something. But he didn’t quite know what. ‘Thank you’ would’ve been the natural response, but those words just wouldn’t come.

“Sorry,” you blushed, your nerves finally catching up with you as you looked away from him. “I didn’t mean to… push your boundaries or anything like that, but… if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Had you overstepped his boundaries? Had you made him uncomfortable? Those questions plagued you for the rest of the way home, Kuroo still quiet and reticent at your side.

You hadn’t overstepped his boundaries at all. Kuroo just couldn’t find the right words, even as you closed the distance to your house.

In all honesty, he’s touched. Touched that you cared so much. Touched that you reached out, even though he could tell how nervous you were. Touched that you were paying that much attention.

As he walked through the door of his own home, he couldn’t get the image of you looking up at him so resolutely out of his head.

He’d have to thank some deity above for the fact you were bad at chemistry, wouldn’t he?

✉

[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:57 PM: hey so uh

[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:57 PM: i just wanted to say thanks

[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:58 PM: for listening to me be all emotional like that

[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:58 PM: i put a lot on you but you were really nice about it

[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:59 PM: so yeah

[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:59 PM: thanks

[YOU] 10:59 PM: NO! DON’T APOLOGISE!

[japan’s okayest tutor] 10:59 PM: !?!?!?!

[YOU] 11:00 PM: honestly, i don’t mind! and i’m happy to listen :(

[YOU] 11:00 PM: i’m here if you need to talk to anyone, okay?

[japan’s okayest tutor] 11:04 PM: you too

✧ ✧ ✧

You were alone.

Your sobs were the only sound fracturing the fragile silence of the empty gym as you slumped against the wall, your knees brought up to your chest.

Why did you have to fuck up so bad? You’d managed to survive your first year with no drama, the only cause of concern being your studies. They were overwhelming enough to deal with on their own. You’d certainly felt down about your grades and whatnot before, but those ruts were a little easier to pull yourself out of. ‘They’re just grades,’ you’d try and tell yourself. ‘You can improve next time. And they don’t define you as a person.’ Even if you didn’t quite believe any of that, it was nice to have some rhetoric to at least attempt to counteract those thoughts.

But now? Now you truly felt alone. Like no-one cared about you.

You felt like you deserved it. Like anyone who cared about you was wasting their time. Like you were taking up their time and attention undeservedly.

It was all too overwhelming.

The pain choked you. Every thought, every feeling you’d been trying to fend off for so long ripped through you like an arrow.

Fuck, why couldn’t you just hold yourself together? Why did you have to be so weak?

You let go. And you cried. And cried. And cried.

The sound shattered the vacuous silence of the gym. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there, letting your sobs rack through your body.

Your throat was sore.

Your eyes stung.

You were alone.

And you deserved it.

“Woah.”

You froze. You knew that voice.

“Hey.” Kuroo knelt in front of you, his hands finding their way to your forearms. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He was knelt in front of you, eyebrows knitted together as his eyes roamed your face.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Shit, why was he here? Why hadn’t he just headed home?

You didn’t want anyone to see you like this. You didn’t want to worry them.

Kuroo’s arms found their way around you, coaxing you gently towards his chest. You collapsed into him, burying your face in his chest.

Fuck, that didn’t help at all. Your sobs came with more voracity, rawer and harsher than they had been.

He just held you, chin propped on your head and one hand rubbing your back. He didn’t say anything; he knew you didn’t need that right now. He knew that in moments like this, it was nice just to be held. To feel like someone’s there.

And then slowly, breath by breath, everything seemed to calm. Your sobs grew softer and softer against his chest, his gentle hums setting a new rhythm for your fractured mind. He was grounding you; each touch, each sound was an attempt to bring you back down to earth. You could tell it wasn’t the most comfortable position for him, crouched awkwardly in front of you while holding you to his chest, but he stayed.

He stayed until your breathing had levelled out, and your grip on his shirt had loosened.

“There you go,” Kuroo murmured, letting you go. He shifted to sit next to you, and you immediately missed his warmth. You found a little comfort as he looped an arm around your shoulder.

You took a long, shaky breath. You weren’t sure how long you’d keep it together for, but you were glad for the reprieve.

“What are you doing here?” You sniffed, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand. He shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have made him worry about you.

“You didn’t show up for our little study session,” he said, eyebrows knitted together. “I tried texting you, but you didn’t respond. And I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Shit. You’d forgotten to tell him you’d ‘headed home early.’

“I was worried about you,” he murmured, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You swallowed roughly, the guilt bubbling up in your chest.

“I’m sorry–”

“No.” Kuroo shook his head. “Don’t apologize. If you need to get it out, you need to get it out.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands. Your knuckles blanched pale as you clenched the fabric of your skirt.

“And,” he swallowed, “if you need to talk to someone… I’m here.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt everything rush back. The fight. The loneliness. The insomnia.

Kuroo didn’t need to hear this. And you didn’t want to burden him with this.

But God, you needed to talk to someone.

“I- I had an argument with Hana,” you sniffed, fingers playing with the hem of your jacket.

You could barely remember how it started. Something stupid, probably. Something immature. But it had blown way out of proportion, and she wasn’t speaking to you anymore. You’d been spending your lunchtimes alone, behind the gym or in an empty classroom. You didn’t have the strength to face the rest of your friends, nor did you know what she’d been telling them.

It had struck at the worst possible time, too. The usual anxieties about grades and the future had been compounding recently. You’d been a bit more down than usual, and this whole Hana debacle had exacerbated that. You were usually able to manage feelings like this, finding ways to keep your head above water.

But not this time.

“I just,” you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut. “I just feel like something’s missing. And, and I’m… there’s… there’s this gap in my heart, and I don’t know how to stop feeling so empty.”

You took a deep breath, feeling it tremble through your body. “But… but I also just feel so numb.”

And all of it, even the numbness, was overwhelming. No matter how desperately you tried to distract yourself, you couldn’t. Nothing worked. You’d lost too many nights sitting at the bottom of your shower, letting the water run down your back as your mind ran in the same repeating circles.

You were exhausted.

“And part of me,” you swallowed, your throat rough and dry as your emotions tried to hammer themselves into something coherent. “Part of me feels like… like it’s wrong to feel like this.”

God, that felt stupid. Stupid, but true. On top of everything, you felt defunct.

And frankly, you couldn’t say why. Was it shame? Guilt? Something else?

“Hey.” Kuroo’s voice was low, almost soft as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “You’re gonna feel what you’re gonna feel,” he murmured, “You shouldn’t feel guilty about that, okay?”

He felt you tremble as you tried to take a deep breath.

He knew that your pain wasn’t a one-to-one reflection of his own. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to understand exactly what you were going through.

But he knew what it was like to be a small child, so afraid, so alone, without an understanding of what was really going on around him.

He knew what it was like to feel as if something was missing, like there was a constant gap in your heart. He’d felt that way when his parents had split up. He’d only been a kid, too young to properly comprehend why that had been happening.

All he had known was that his family had crumbled to pieces around him. And then his mother was gone, half a world away with little more than a kiss on his forehead as a goodbye. He hadn’t been ready for it. He had felt like he might never be.

That feeling of separation had followed him, even into his teen years. It was quieter now, a half-whisper on the bad days. Usually, he could ignore it, setting his mind to more productive concerns. But, it never quite disappeared.

Kuroo knew what it was like to be lonely.

And he hated seeing you go through the exact same thing.

Lonely. Afraid. Probably hoping that someone, somewhere, would acknowledge your pain.

That was the worst part. Wanting your suffering to be known. Wanting someone to look at all of it, to see it for what it was. But no matter how palpable that desire was, how desperately you wanted it, it was too terrifying. To speak up was to be a burden. To speak up was to expose yourself to pity; and that was always the last thing you needed.

Pity’s useless. All you were asking for, all you really wanted was understanding. Acknowledgment. To have someone see.

He knew exactly what that was like.

“You, uh…” The sentiment caught in his throat, somehow both persistent and reticent.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

They were the very words he’d wished someone had said to him all those years ago. The words he’d wanted someone to offer him, a child who didn’t know how to reach out. To cry out for help.

And in that moment, with his arms around the manager who had looked after him and his boys so well, Kuroo felt that call.

✉

[passable at best] 8:30 PM: hey

[passable at best] 8:30 PM: how are you feeling?

[YOU] 8:45 PM: alright

[YOU] 8:45 PM: i ate dinner and i’ve just been watching youtube

[YOU] 8:46 PM: and i’ve been drinking a lot of water

[passable at best] 8:46 PM: i’m glad to hear that

[passable at best] 8:46 PM: make sure you get an early night, yeah?

[YOU] 8:47 PM: i’ll try

[passable at best] 8:47 PM: and if you need anything, please text me

✧ ✧ ✧

"Come to the temple with me."

The surprise was evident on your face. You’re glad he couldn’t see you. "What… just us?"

"Yeah." There's a pause. An almost painful one. "I couldn't get Kenma to leave the house, so…"

You pretended you weren’t disappointed. If anyone could see you, they wouldn't be convinced.

"Oh, well, uh…" Your fists curled into your nightgown. "Sure."

"Great!" You could hear the smile in his voice. It's the one you like best; full of sunlight, pure and whole. The one that reached his eyes. "I'll, uh… see you at eight?"

Usually, if someone had called you at seven-thirty in the morning, you would've simply ignored them. But when you’d seen that it was him, you’d answered immediately. The lack of hesitation was almost frightening.

There was no reason that your fondness for a certain Kuroo Tetsurou should scare you. You just knew that you adored the guy. In less than a year, he’d become one of your favourite people. And, he’d been such a solid support for you. Of course you’d go to the temple with him.

But as you stood at the temple steps, swallowed up by a coat and two jumpers, you wondered if anyone was worth being this cold for.

“Sorry I’m late.”

You glared up at him, nose embarrassingly red.

“What?” He groaned, hands dug deep in his pockets.

“It’s cold.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“It’s eight in the morning.”

“Hey,” he grinned, reaching up and ruffling your hair with a gloved hand. “You could’ve said no.”

You huffed. Unfortunately, he was right.

“Well, I’m touched,” he chuckled, looking up at the sky. “It’s a nice morning, though.” He looked back down at you with a grin. He was far too peppy for this hour of the morning. “You ready?”

The walk up the steps was almost laborious, given just how cold it was. Your breath misted in front of you as you told each other about your first dreams of the year; he’s still regaling a tale about Kenma turning into a dragon with five heads and chasing him through the streets of Tokyo by the time you reach the fortunes.

You tried to shake off the superstitious jitters as you carefully chose one of the knots on the string. Kuroo showed much less care.

As you read the fortune written out on your strip, you let out a surreptitious sigh of relief. You looked at Kuroo, tilting your head.

“What’d you get?” You sniffled. You hoped you wouldn’t get a cold from this.

“Bad luck,” he said, turning the strip towards you.

You snorted. “Oh, ow.”

He shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.” His expression said otherwise; it was that half-grimace he had whenever he didn’t want to admit he was wrong. Or that Bokuto had done something cool.

“Really?” You grinned, tilting your head at him. “You’re not bothered by it at all?”

“Alright, what did you get then?” He peered down at you, puffing out his chest.

“A little luck.” You held your strip towards him, and he scowled.

“Bad luck’s more exciting,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be mad about it,” you smiled, nudging him with your elbow. “God just likes me more.”

“Oi,” he huffed, ruffling your hair with a cold hand.

“Hey!” You wacked his hand away, but he just cackled.

“Anyway, you’ve forgotten the most important part of a temple visit,” he yawned, looking back at the fortunes lined up on the strings.

“Hm?” You frowned.

"You gotta make a promise," he sniffled, his fortune scrunched up in his hand.

You pouted, your hands dug deep in your pockets. A promise, huh? Did he mean a wish? You weren’t about to argue the point. He’d win it, anyway.

“You go first,” you mumbled, a little embarrassed by the fact that nothing was coming to mind.

He paused, staring at you for a moment. You squinted back, perhaps half as a challenge.

"Hm," Kuroo puffed his cheeks out, looking up at the sky for a moment. "I promise… to always be there for you. No matter what."

You blushed. What sort of promise was that? And why did it make you feel like… this?

Thwump!

You were only half aware of it as you punched him in the stomach.

“What was that for?” He wheezed, hands clamped on his stomach as he stumbled back a few steps.

“You can’t say things like that!” You whined, feeling the colour in your cheeks growing deeper.

“Why not?” There was something a little too genuine in his frown.

“Because I was going to say something really lame!” It was only eight-thirty in the morning, and Kuroo had already worked his way under your skin. And you weren’t entirely sure he’d meant to. “If I knew you were gonna say something like that, I’d’ve said it back.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You still can, you know.”

“Oh.” Yeah. You could.

That was all he needed. In an instant, that familiar grin was once again adorning his face, and he was towering over you. A little closer than maybe was appropriate.

“Is that… a blush I see?” Oh, he looked far too pleased with himself. You had half a mind to punch him again.

“Shut up,” you huffed.

“Aw, have I made you all embarrassed?” He grinned, ruffling your hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words spoiled by his fake pout.

“If you don’t shut up, I won’t say it,” you threatened, glaring at him as resolutely as you could. The weird twang in your chest made it more difficult than it usually was.

He shut his mouth immediately, eyes a little bigger and much more expectant than usual.

“Kuroo Tetsurou–”

“Are you about to propose?”

“You know what? Nevermind–”

“No, no, no! I’m sorry!” His shoulders were slouched towards you, head tilted to the side and a bright smile on his face. “I’ll shut up.”

You took a deep breath. It certainly felt a bit like you were trying to propose to him. You shuffled that thought out of your mind as quickly as you could. Once again, Kuroo had put you in a situation you hadn’t quite anticipated.

“No matter what comes, and no matter how irritating you are–”

“Hey!”

“–I promise that I’ll be there to support you,” you managed to say, cheeks flaring and fists clenched. “I… really care about you.”

You couldn’t bear the look he was giving you. It was the look you’d give something you positively adored – something you believed would bring nothing but light to your life. It was a look so full of affection that you felt like you might shatter beneath it.

He reached out and wrapped you in his arms, pulling you gently into his chest. You snuck your arms under his jacket, circling them around his waist. You’d done it mostly on instinct, but you weren’t upset about it. It’s warm, and it’s nice, and you didn’t want to question it.

There’s too much to worry about – studies, volleyball, the fact that it’s really not all that long until you’re third years. That took precedence. Whatever’s going on here – whatever this was – couldn’t take priority.

All you knew for certain was that you loved Kuroo Tetsurou. In what way didn’t matter. And this in-between, this unnamed space was comfortable. And, as far as you could tell, it belonged to both of you. If he didn’t want to say anything about it, then neither did you.

✉

[i can be your angle] 5:21 PM: hey hey

[YOU] 5:21 PM: hey hey hey!

[i can be your angle] 5:21 PM: no don’t do that

[i can be your angle] 5:21 PM: anyway, i just wanted to make sure you’re practicing appropriate after-cold care

[YOU] 5:21 PM: why do you always have to phrase things Like That

[i can be your angle] 5:22 PM: no idea what you’re talking about

[i can be your angle] 5:22 PM: anyway, drink a tea or two, stick a heat pack (or seven) in the microwave, and rug up

[i can be your angle] 5:22 PM: can’t have you going and catching a cold

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuuwritersnet #once again what are tags #i didn't want to cut this up but it got Too Long i'm so sorry #n e way hope you like it??#the in between

1K notes · View notes

elldell1204 · 5 years ago

Text

I Always Have Your Back - Jay Halstead x Reader

Anonymous: Drabble challenge Nr. 17 - “Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion”? With Jay Halstead Thank you! 😊

Thank you so much for the request! 🥰 I do have to confess that this is one of the most recent requests, but I got so inspired by the prompt that I felt I just needed to write it. Don’t fret! I do have ideas for the others, it’s just finding inspiration, but they will be coming soon. I hope you enjoy this one, I’m super proud of it! ❤️

(slightly inspired by this Linstead fic on Ao3, feel free to check it out!)

Warning: Mention of drugs, implied attempted rape (not graphic), mention of sex trafficking. Don’t read if this will upset you! 💕

wc - 7,464

You’ve always hated when the criminals fall through your fingers. Just when you think you’ve got ‘em, all ready to be wrapped up with a bow and sent off to Statesville, something crops up and (wrongfully) gets them off the hook by the skin of their teeth and they walk, but not without a smug grin over the shoulder at you first.

That’s why for the past month, whilst you’ve been trying to find incriminating evidence on a suspect in a missing persons case, every little thing just pisses you off. It’s like the case is all you think about, night and day. You even dream about it in your sleep, though it’s more like a nightmare. Trying to solve this case has been like torture for every member of the Intelligence unit, making everyone more irritable than usual, resulting in arguments and eyes that shoot daggers being a daily occurrence. Something which didn’t exactly help your already rocky relationship with your partner, Jay Halstead.

It wasn’t like you didn’t get along. In fact, at work, it was the complete opposite. He was the best partner you’ve ever had, seeing as you both worked liked clockwork as a duo and even got praise from Voight after a case one day saying you were the best partnership he’s ever had in his unit. You hated to admit it (and even then you never did out loud, only in the quiet of your own heart), but you’d actually fallen for your partner, something you vowed never to let happen in your lifetime as a Chicago police officer. You wanted a successful career, not be the ‘slut’ who throws herself at every male cop she works with. You’d seen many a colleague go down the road of dating a partner, and nearly every time it ended badly, but even worse for the female half of the relationship.

But every day, the little things he did or said just made you want to throw caution to the wind, push him up against the wall and kiss him breathless. And sometimes you thought you saw the same glimmer of lust in his eye as you felt.

Only, he acted like he hated you. Well, not exactly. He was nice to you, cracking jokes with you and being friendly, but whenever the conversation steered anywhere close to flirtatious, he often caught himself and put up a wall. A cold, icy wall; the complete opposite of anything you would associate with Jay Halstead. You loved the cheeky, boyish side of him, but the iron clad exterior really broke your heart, mainly because to you it meant that your love was unrequited and the partner you cared for so much was having trouble opening up to you, shutting down before your very eyes like he would when a case hit a long-forgotten nerve. Though your spirits were dampened every time it happened, you understood, especially after Kim told you the story about Erin and Jay’s downwards spiral after she left. You wished you knew him before Erin, because according to Kim, he never used to be as angry at the world. Before, he knew he could do some good, put in his bet and that helping one person would mean something. You knew he still did, but that need for justice wasn’t quite satiated anymore. It was as if, over time, the job had dampened Jay, and he needed help seeing the sunshine again.

At least that’s what Voight had told you, not in as many words, when you’d been with the unit for a few months. According to him, you were the person that coaxed the raincloud away from over Jay’s head, bit by bit, so that he could start to enjoy the sun again. Jay didn’t notice at first, but when he did, that’s when he started reverting back to the colder version of himself when things got too close to the dangerous waters of flirtation.

Lately, neither of you had gotten within ten feet of what could be considered flirting, let alone friendly jokes and conversation, and it was all thanks to this case. The unit was tasked with finding out what happened to seven young women, all addicts, who let their addiction take over to the point where they couldn’t afford their next meal when they suddenly go missing. Like, off-the-face-of-the-earth, vanished-into-a-cloud-of-smoke, left-no-trace missing. You made huge progress within the first week, finding out that all the girls were supplied by one common dealer: Elena Perez. A forty-two-year old, divorced woman who owned her own restaurant in a pretty nice area in the south side. You found she was a ‘business in the front, party in the back’ kind of dealer, so to speak. Only, you had no way of getting to her without raising her suspicions. For weeks you did surveillance, watching two different girls approach her restaurant and walking away with a bag of white power in their hands, each on different nights to the other, until one time when they entered but didn’t leave.

Which meant you were back at square one.

Every other attempt to gain more info was met with a dead end, so walking into the precinct this morning, you didn’t feel too hopeful. You were one of the last to arrive (not that you were late, you were actually half an hour early), trudging up the stairs to the bullpen with two to-go cups of coffee in hand from your local coffeehouse around the block from your apartment. One was for you, seeing as your energy levels were pretty low, and one was for Jay, half because you wanted to cheer him up and half as a peace offering after the argument you both had last night when you were both frustrated, getting absolutely nowhere in the case after combing over all your notes from the past month or so. Let’s just say you were glad you were the only two left in the bullpen, and the door to the break room was closed to avoid any prying ears.

Yours and Jay’s desks faced each other and were the closest to Voight’s office, with Jay’s back being to it. You made it to yours without passing out from exhaustion and placed Jay’s cup in front of him with a small, sorry smile on your face. Jay eyed the coffee before looking up and mirroring your expression, and that was all that was needed to repair the very minor crack in your bond (one that seemed to be needing repair too often during this case) before getting on with your day.

It was only ten or so minutes later when Voight stormed out of his office and over to the board at the top of the stairs with a tempestuous expression, his bad mood only amplified in his body language. His exit prompted the rest of Intelligence to jump up. Well, jump was an understatement, given that you were all the definition of defeated. Jay came and propped himself on the edge of your desk, whilst you spun your chair to face your boss.

“Tell me you have a lead, any lead. I don’t care if it’s less than a shoeprint, we need something to go on.”

He glanced round at each and every one of you, showing a steely glare before moving onto the next person. No one had anything. You’d had an idea for a while now, but you knew it was immensely dangerous, and therefore you decided you would only bring it up as a last resort. Now seemed like the right time.

“I know this won’t be favourable,” You began, and you could feel all eye direct their attention to you without even breaking eye contact with Voight. “But I could go in undercover?”

“No.” Jay all but shouted. You immediately diverted your eyes to your partner, an anger bubbling deep in your chest. “Absolutely not. It’s a huge risk. We don’t even know what she does to the girls! In my opinion, that’s way too dangerous and downright stupid.”

He had his jaw set tight as he spoke, making you wonder how the words didn’t come out more strained than they already did. His arms were folded tightly over his chest, his fingers gripping his biceps so hard his knuckles had turned as white as paper. In hindsight, you realise that he had your safety at heart, and he meant well with his words, however, at the time, all you could see was red, mostly thanks to sleep deprivation.

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.” You seethed, and your partner looked at you like you’d just shot him in the heart. You turned to face your boss before continuing. “Sarge, you know about my work from Vice. I know what I’m doing, and I’m one of the damn best undercovers in the entire department. And what else do we have to go on? This is our only hope at finding those girls.”

Before Jay could refute, Voight agreed and told everyone to begin prepping, dishing out tasks to everyone in the unit. You were whisked away by Hailey and Vanessa to put together your cover story before you could even look at Jay, let alone discuss what the hell you had just gotten yourself into.

***

Twenty-four hours later and you’re now Riley Hensley. It was your cover from the last bust you did in Vice, which was luckily still intact, so you managed to slot right back into it, even getting your old job at the corner store back within minutes of talking to the owner. You were sat sipping one of the worst coffees ever to touch your tastebuds whilst reading over your pseudo-life. You’d arrived at your undercover apartment last night with just a scruffy duffel bag to your name, and it was then that you’d realised it was the smallest apartment you had ever set foot in, and you’d lived alone in New York straight out of college with a student’s salary. Once you got there, you set it up a little more to your taste, putting a few personal touches to make it seemed more lived in.

The rest of the team had left you to do your thing back in the district before you went under (which consisted of a lot of psyching yourself up and getting yourself in the mindset of your new character), getting busy with setting out surveillance plans and shift changes and places to put bugs. You managed to have very small and brief conversation with the team before you left last night at 7pm to spend your first night in the apartment. Most were quick goodbyes and ‘stay safe’s, but Jay’s was different. You felt a little bad about your earlier encounter, but now wasn’t the time. For all you know, that could have been the last time you ever spoke to him, so you didn’t want to waste it on possibly unnecessary apologies. He seemed repressed, like there was something he wanted to say but just couldn’t find the words or the strength to do so, but the encounter ended up being more friendly than you had interacted with each other in weeks.

He handed you a little zip up bag, telling you it was full of Narcan in case you were accidentally dosed. You had taken it, your fingertips brushing against his for less than a second, but enough for you to feel comforted. You thanked him, and he gave you a small fleeting smile before his eyes went back to his feet. “I don’t doubt that you know what you’re doing, but please, be safe.” He had said. You had to hold back tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, but you felt guilty for snapping at him earlier and you didn’t know how to apologise (damn your sleep-deprived brain). You also felt the urge to just tell him everything; your feelings, your favourite moments with him, how much you were going to miss seeing him every day. And although you desperately wanted to throw your arms around him and hug him so tight you might stop his lungs from working, you just nodded, and he walked away, leaving you to go back to reading your files, or at least try to.

Now, after surprisingly one of the best sleeps you’d had in the last month, you were nearly ready for your first meet with Perez this evening. You were dressed in a tattered hoodie you usually only wore to bed, some leggings that had begun to thin out from wear and a pair of canvas pumps that had a hole in the front. Your usually pristinely-kept hair was looking more like a rat’s nest than an actually rat’s nest, and you were planning on going for a run or doing some sort of workout before you went to the meet to work up a sweat and make it more believable that you were an addict in withdrawal. Also, the bags and dark circles under your eyes from the recent sleepless nights actually worked in your favour.

You were so engrossed in reading the file and going over your plan that the knock at your door startled you more than it should have. You stood from your chair at the kitchen table, pushing it back under before stepping carefully over to the front door. You peered through the spyhole, being surprised to see your partner stood outside. You assumed he had brought you something you had forgotten, but you had to let him in quick before anyone saw and suspected anything, so you opened the door and roughly pulled him in by his arm.

“Nice to see you too.” He joked as you stuck your head out of the door and looked around for anyone, but being satisfied that there was no one there, you came back in and locked it before turning around. You could tell he was surprised to see you looking so…not you. He lifted an eyebrow as he looked you up and down, and if it wasn’t for how worn down you looked and how self-conscious you were of your appearance right now, the action would have sent a heat straight to your core. “On second thoughts, maybe not.”

“Well, I am trying to sell the ‘utterly broke drug addict’ act, so you shouldn’t have expected a ball gown.” You shot back, teasingly.

“I wasn’t, it’s just so different to how good you look normally.” He said, walking over to your couch, unaware of what he just let slip out. It made your mind race ridiculously fast, just like your heart, but you realised he probably didn’t mean it in the way you hoped he did.

“As much as I am enjoying your company, what are you doing here?” You went and leant up against the wall facing him.

“I’m here to let you know it’s not too late to pull out of this.” He looked straight into your eyes as he said it, so deeply you were worried he might have seen how nervous you were under your brave facade.

“Well, I’m not going to.”

“Y/N, it’s too dangerous. We don’t know what Perez does to the girls. She could kill you.”

“I know how to handle myself, Jay.” You squinted your eyes at him, as if you thought he was speaking utter nonsense. Really, you just didn’t want to think about the possibility of him being right.

“But you won’t have back-up in there with you.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Halstead! You don’t need to be my knight in shining armour. I know what I’m doing, and most of the unit will be outside at all times in case I need you, anyways.”

“Don’t do this, Y/N. We can find another way in-”

“Don’t you see? I have to do this! There is no other way. I owe it to the girls and their families to find them and stop any more from getting hurt. If I don’t, I won’t be able to live with myself. So let me decide what I can and can’t do, Jay, please.”

You didn’t realise you were both shouting now, not until you noticed how out of breath you both were and that Jay was now very close to you after standing up to have the shouting match. You could smell him, that mix of eucalyptus and cedarwood you love, so close that if you were to reach out a hand, you could grab the back of his neck and pull his lips to yours. You even think you might have seen his eyes fleeting down to your own lips for a second. Only you didn’t act on your desires. Instead, you walked over to the kitchen, wrapping your arms around yourself in some sort of hug, keeping your back to him.

“I appreciate your concern,” You practically whispered, so quiet you were unsure if he could even hear you. “But I’ll be fine. Plus, you have my back. You always have my back.”

You turned slowly to see that he hadn’t moved an inch, only his eyes had followed you to where you were, excruciatingly far from where you were mere seconds earlier.

“And I always will.” He muttered in reply. He began to walk towards the door with soft steps, passing you on his way, unlatching it when he got there, but before he could open it, he turned back to you once more. “Stay safe, Y/N. I need my partner.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you to slump down into the couch with your head spinning, in the same place he was sat before, desperate to savour the faint scent he left behind to calm your nerves.

***

The first thing you noticed when you turned onto the street was the van. It had “A. Johnson & Sons Plumbing” printed onto the side of it, the vinyl sticker peeling slightly at the edges with age. It was one of three the 21st precinct owned, each one a different company on the outside, but practically the same layout on the inside. You knew they were watching the visual and listening to the audio that the tiny camera and microphone picked up in your necklace, whilst the unmarked car that housed another two members of your unit would only be listening to the audio.

You checked your work phone before you left the apartment with just your undercover burner, being met with a message from Hailey telling you how Jay had pushed for the first shift in the van, which made you smile. You kept that close to your heart as you walked down the cold dark street, getting closer to the restaurant with each step.

“Everything okay?” You said a few feet from the restaurant after checking nobody was around you.

“All good. Do your thing, Y/N.” Hailey’s reassuring voice came through the small earpiece you had in.

You pulled open the door to the front of the restaurant, immediately aware of how out of place you looked in your scruffy clothes compared to the smartly dressed patrons dotted around at their tables. You caught one of the waitresses’ eye, who, after scrunching her nose up at you, made her way over.

“Table for one?” She asked you, her voice a little strained as she looked you up and down with a slight hint of disgust. You really were a sight; sweaty from your run, shaking and scruffy in an attempt to sell your act.

“I’m here to see Ms Perez?” You asked, your eyes frantic, unable to focus on anything. At least that’s what you wanted her to think.

“Um, I’ll go see if she’s busy. Wait here.” The waitress said before disappearing through the doors at the back of the restaurant.

You had earned some interest from some diners now, being the topic of a few hushed discussions and wary glances. You knew that it’d be caught on the camera you wore, and you could only imagine Jay’s massive eye roll at how sheltered and rude they were acting, which calmed you slightly and made you smile on the inside. You saw the waitress returning, looking uneasy at the news you were about to receive from her. You expected what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

“Ms Perez gives her apologies, but she’s very busy right now. She said to ask you to leave.”

You began to plead with her, quietly but not too quiet that you wouldn’t appear erratic and in need of a fix, but she didn’t budge, and so you left with a huff, your hand shaking as you reached for the door handle.

You’d expected this to happen, seeing as the same had occurred to a girl you saw when you were doing surveillance. You followed what she did that night a few weeks ago. You looked behind you to check if the waitress watched you leave, which she hadn’t, so you turned to the right and made your way to the back of the restaurant to where the deliveries went. It was even darker down there, with no streetlights to illuminate your way, only the mild moonlight. You made it to the back, seeing nobody to stop you, and so you entered through the door that you assumed led to the corridor where her office was. You were right, as the second door on the left had a plaque on the door that read “Ms Elena Perez, Owner and Manageress”, and so you knocked.

“Enter!” You heard from inside, the call muffled by the door. So you did, timidly opening the door and stepping in. She hadn’t looked up from her computer yet, so she hadn’t seen you, but you definitely saw her. She definitely wasn’t your average drug dealer, that’s for sure; dressed to the nines in her figure-hugging dress, a scarlet red that reminded you of fresh blood complemented her caramel features perfectly. The same shade was painted onto her lips and her nails, like a wolf who had just feasted. If you weren’t so confident in your skills, you would have instantly been intimidated, and so that’s the front you put on. You hugged yourself with one arm, trying to make yourself as small as possible, whilst the other was busy scratching some imaginary itch on your arm. You immediately dropped your focus from her before she got suspicious, your eyes fleeting around the room at where you could place a bug, but to her, you would just be acting like a normal addict going through withdrawal.

She probably expected you to speak first, thinking you were one of her staff, but when you stayed quiet, she raised her eyes. At first, they were imitating the kindness a good boss might show to her workers, but when she saw it was a drug addict, the one she had told to get lost, her eyes became icy with manipulation. It was like she was a lion and her prey was about to walk directly where she wanted it.

“I thought I told you to leave.” She questioned, standing as she tilted her head at you. With her heels, she was definitely taller than you, something she must have took pleasure in.

“Please, Ms Perez, I was told…I, um, I need…” You began, mumbling and stumbling over your words.

Game time.

“A fix? Anyone within fifty feet of you would be able to tell that. But why would I be able to help you with that?”

“Um, Rachel said you could help me? I was clean until I lost my job a few months ago, but then I slipped back into old habits and I’m really struggling with money right now, I thought you might be more understanding than other…you know…and let me pay you over time and in other ways than money.”

“I don’t usually.”

“Please.” You beg, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. You see her consider it, because her eyes seem to go to a dark place, and you know that you were right in going with this approach. It followed the pattern of the other girls, so it was your best bet after all.

“What’s your name?”

“Riley. Riley Hensley.”

“Okay, Riley. I hope I can take you for your word.” Perez concedes, walking over to a safe she has in the corner of the room, typing in a code to open it and then pulling out a little dime bag of a white powder. “Heroin?”

You nod, beginning to act excited. Before you can say anything, though, she reached out her empty hand, palm up.

“Give me what you have on you today, and I’ll see what you owe.”

You stuck a hand into the pocket of your hoodie, grabbing the crumpled-up bills you had brought with you. Two tens. You put them in her palm, and after inspecting them, she handed you over the bag, which you took eagerly.

“This is enough for today.” She held up the bills before walking back to sit down. “If you come back to see me, don’t go to the front again.”

“Yes, yes, of course, thank you.” You nodded before leaving quickly. Perez thought she had laid the bait, and you had snatched it right up, when really it was you who had her right where you wanted her.

***

It went on like this for a week or so; you bringing the right amount for what she gave you. But it soon became a deal of you bringing whatever cash you could scrounge with anything valuable you had to offer. For a while, the bags got bigger and bigger, fuelling your faux addiction, until the value of the items you brought decreased and you had no cash to your name.

You had gone a couple of days without seeing her, pretending that you didn’t have anything to give, and so when you turned up tonight with a measly pair of tarnished silver earrings that ‘belonged to your mother before she died’, she didn’t seem pleased.

“You realise these aren’t even worth ten bucks, right?” She laughed in your face to degrade you. You began to fumble with your fingers.

“They’re real silver-“

“I don’t give a shit. I’m not giving you anything.” She shrugged and sat back down at her desk.

You looked at her, dumbfounded and desperate. “Please, Ms Perez. I need it.”

She didn’t even acknowledge you.

“Ms Perez, please, I’ll bring you something better tomorrow, I promise.”

She seems to perk up at your words, looking up at you with what can only be described as an evil smile.

“I don’t take promises as payment, little girl.”

You sighed audibly. “You know I keep my promises, Ms Perez. I always have before.”

“If I give you something now, you promise me that you will come back here tomorrow with something worth it?”

You nod eagerly.

“Okay then.”

She stands, getting you the same size bag that she gave you the first time a few weeks ago. As you take it from her, she grips your forearm hard, making you yelp in pain.

“You better keep your promise, girly, or you’ll have to pay me back another way.”

You whimper your consent to her, and, satisfied, she releases your arm. You left quickly, rubbing at your arm. It was definitely going to bruise. Once in the fresh air, you took a deep breath, going over the encounter in your head. ‘Pay me back another way.’ You felt a smile tug at your lips. You were getting somewhere.

Walking away from the restaurant, you saw the familiar van parked at the end of the road, so you said, “Pull round the corner. I’ll meet you there.”

You saw someone get out of the back and walk round to the driver’s side before the van drove off. You carried on the same way, and when you got to the van, you opened the back doors and got in, finding Adam and Jay sat waiting for you.

It was the first time since he came to your undercover apartment that you had seen Jay, but he looked a lot rougher than he had that day. His hair was messier, his eyes more tired and he looked overwhelmingly worried. But you didn’t have the time to ask him how he was doing. You knew you were close to finding the much-needed answers, you just had to keep going.

“Wow, you look rough.” Adam teased, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Ha ha, funny. Did you hear all that?” You asked.

“Yeah, we did.” Adam replied, serious this time.

“Another way to pay her…” Jay repeated what he heard, and you saw a sliver of hope flash across his face.

You nodded, the same smile you had earlier returning. “Yeah, I really think we’re getting somewhere.”

“Just…be careful, Y/N.” Jay met your eyes, and you could read a million more things he wanted to say to you right now, but you both didn’t have the time.

“I will. I better be going, then.” You said, slipping out of the van and walking back to your apartment, a little more bounce in your step than you had before.

***

Another week went by, and each time you met with Perez, you brought next to nothing, but she always said very little at all in protest. You knew it wasn’t enough to pay for what she was giving you, but she was being extremely lenient. Of course, you did this on purpose, wanting to see what the alternative form of payment would be, but you were beginning to give up hope after seven days. That was until you turned up tonight, at your usual time, and Perez wasn’t alone. The man in her office wasn’t one you ever saw before, and you knew that the team in the van would be running him through facial rec to put a name to the face.

“Who is this?” You said to Perez, glancing between them both. He was tall, rather muscular, good-looking, the same caramel skin and dark hair that Perez had, but they didn’t share similar features, so they definitely weren’t related. You might have been attracted to him if you didn’t know what he was probably involved in, or if your heart didn’t love someone else.

“This is Nicolas.” Perez replied, the same evil smile she wore so well was resting on her face.

“And why is Nicolas here?” You decided to go with the sassy approach.

“You owe me.” She stated simply. “Nicolas works for me, in a different branch, so to speak.”

You furrow your brows. What the hell is she on about? “And?”

“You are going to work off your debt.”

Your eyes go wide. “I can’t, I already have a job.”

“At the convenience store. I know. But it isn’t paying you nearly enough to pay your debt. Plus, we’d provide you with whatever you need.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” It was Nicolas that spoke this time. His voice was smooth, comforting even, but it still put you on edge. “You can start tonight. You’d earn a lot of money with your body.”

“Um, I don’t know…” You mumble, starting to back towards the door. Nicolas began to walk slowly towards you. You’d expected some sort of sex trafficking, but didn’t think this was how you’d be integrated into it.

“Y/N, don’t go anywhere. We don’t have GPS on you, it’s not safe for you to go mobile.” You heard Jay through your earpiece.

“I need to go quit my job at the store. I don’t want to leave on bad terms. I promise I’ll come back tomorrow, and then I’ll start working for you.” You tried to compromise, but both of them had a hungry look in their eyes.

You knew they weren’t going to budge. You had to escape. So you turned to run, pushing down hard on the door handle when you felt Nicolas grab your arm. You tried to thrash around to get him off, but when that didn’t work, you threw your head back, hearing what you assumed was his nose crunch with the force, which worked.

You swung open the door, ready to sprint, when this time you were pulled back by your necklace, which snapped off, and two arms wrapped around you from behind, stopping you from going. You began to scream, knowing the team would be starting to move in, but you had to hold your own for maybe thirty seconds. Only, you didn’t have that, as you felt the sharp jab of a needle in your thigh, and suddenly you felt an overwhelming urge to sleep, your eyes feeling heavy and every muscle growing weak. The last thing you saw was darkness as some sort of bag was pulled over your head.

***

You felt groggy when you began to stir, the feeling starting to flood back into your limbs, but still you couldn’t move. You looked around with fear-filled eyes, realising you were alone in a dingy basement. It wasn’t big enough to be that of a warehouse, more like a normal house. You listened hard for any sounds, but all you could hear was the occasional car driving past, nothing distinctive.

You tried to move, getting jolted back as you rolled over. You looked to the wall, finding a chain than lead to some sort of cuff on your wrist, and you knew then that you were stuck there until someone came to find you. You felt a chilled draught rush over your skin, and when you looked down you saw you were only in your underwear, sprawled out on a filthy mattress.

Immediately you felt violated, and you had yet to feel any pain associated with what you thought they would have already done to you. Still, you were angry. Upset. Furious. Disappointed in yourself for being in that position, the one where you couldn’t escape. But, even in hindsight, you couldn’t think of anything you could have done differently to save yourself from this situation, besides wearing a GPS tracker, which none of expected to need.

Your only hope was the team had caught the licence plate before you were driven off to wherever you were. For now, all you could do was wait. And with waiting came thinking, something you barely had enough energy to do right now, but as soon as your mind flooded with the thoughts of your friends and family, you were more than happy to use whatever power you had left on them.

First, your mind went to your family, the last holiday you spent together, all the time you spent without thinking once about work. Next, you thought of your unit, how they were like your second family, the fun you had each day with them, even when you were dealing with the worst mankind had to offer. The laughs from the after-work drinks at Molly’s in celebration as jokes were shared around the table. And then, you thought of Jay.

Why the hell hadn’t you told him before you left? You knew this was one of the most dangerous operations you had ever been on, and yet you were too cowardly to let him know your feelings. You didn’t want to think like that right now, though, so your mind just went to him. His jokes that made you laugh so hard you could barely breathe, his little chuckle that was like a music to your ears you yearned to hear every day, the way he was able to comfort you like no one else after a rough case, making you content and at peace with the world once more, a feat that wasn’t easy to achieve when the darkness hit you hard.

It was then that your little reverie was interrupted by the bolt on the door being slid across, the heavy metal clanging sound reverberating around the room, or was it in your head? You were still a little fuzzy, after all. The footsteps sounded menacing as whoever it was made their way towards you. You were trying to focus on their face, but it was proving to be more difficult than it should have been.

“You’re awake.” The voice was familiar, not overly so but you had definitely heard it before. You saw the hand coming towards your face in a blur before you felt it, but that did nothing to quell the sting when it collided with your cheek. You managed to supress the cry of pain, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. That’s when he gripped your jaw roughly, his fingers and thumb digging into opposite cheeks to give you that ridiculous pout to humiliate you. “Ah, I expected you to be stubborn. No need to worry, we’ll wear you down and fuck you so hard that by the end of the week, you’ll be begging for mercy through tears. Call it your initiation.”

You took a sharp intake of breath at the words, and he chuckled darkly. Your eyes finally focused, seeing the same caramel skin and dark chocolate hair you mistrusted earlier.

Nicolas.

“The ketamine still wearing off?” He laughed, throwing your face down with ease. That’s when you heard him start to unbuckle his belt. “That should make the next part easier then…”

It was like the adrenaline began to surge in waves through your veins at those words, and you began to thrash around, smacking away his hands and screaming bloody murder until your throat felt raw, but you didn’t stop. He grabbed each ankle in his hands, tight as vices, and still you lashed out, kicking your legs, trying to connect with his body anywhere you could. There was absolutely no way you would go down without a fight.

He'd managed to pin your legs down with his knees when his fingertips found the fabric of your panties, your arms still flailing with purpose in his direction, and before he could pull them down, the metal door swung open, crashing into the brick wall with a crack.

Nicolas got distracted, turning his once hungry eyes away from you to see the cause of the noise, which allowed you to dislodge a leg from underneath him, wrapping one and then the other tightly around his neck before squeezing them so hard you were surprised you didn’t break it.

You were still crying, still so flooded with adrenaline and the overwhelming need to survive that you jumped at the warm hand placed on your arm, beginning to lash out at it once again, when the hand turned into an arm, and then two, wrapped tightly but not overly so around your torso, prompting you to let go of the man you had now knocked out cold. You felt a hard chest meet your back, calming you and somehow you knew it was safe to let go, to just cry, to let it all out.

“Ssh, Y/N, I got you, I got you.” The voice was warm, inviting, comforting, one you loved so much, one you trusted with your life.

“Jay.” You whimpered in between cries, and his arms loosened slightly at your realisation. You turned ever so slightly so you could tuck your head into his neck, the tears still flowing. He rocked you gently in an effort to comfort you, but he knew you needed to get this out of your system.

You were still crying when you felt the blanket wrap around you, when you were practically carried out by Jay and into the back of a car, still sat in his lap with your head nuzzled into his neck, craving that familiar eucalyptus and cedarwood smell that would calm you. You had relaxed by the time the car pulled to a stop, and you were helped into the pristine building and onto a gurney, a hospital gown placed onto the bed for you to put on whilst everyone cleared out of the room with a few lingering looks your way before the curtain was pulled across.

You did just that, giving yourself a moment to reflect before opening the curtain. You were safe. You were unharmed, mostly. You were shaken up, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t work through. You were okay.

“I’m ready.” You said as you pulled back the curtain. You were met with a warm smile from Natalie before you got situated on the bed.

***

About an hour later, after you had endured countless tests and a visit from Dr Charles, your team was given the go ahead to come in to see you. They walked in with caution, but at your bright smile, they seemed to relax.

“Did you find the other girls?” You got out before they could even ask you how you were, which earned a chuckle.

“There’s our Y/N,” Adam laughed. “Always straight down to business.”

You merely smiled and shrugged before looking around at each member, expecting an answer.

“Yeah, we found all of them upstairs in various rooms. Looked like the start of a sex trafficking ring, so we did good to catch it early, but it was all thanks to you, Y/N.” Hailey was the one to provide you with it.

“Don’t be silly, we all worked hard, and we did it together, although I do expect a couple of days off, boss. I’m exhausted.” You laughed along with the rest of the room.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Voight smiled at you genuinely.

You saw everyone’s eyes fleet towards Jay, who was yet to say anything, when Vanessa coughed lightly. “Well, we’ll give you some space to rest up. See you soon, Y/N.”

You thanked everyone for coming, exchanging goodbyes as they all walked out one by one, except for Jay.

He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes looking anywhere but yours until everyone had left. When he finally looked up, seeing you smiling at him, he relaxed, taking a few steps towards you so he could sit on the edge of the bed.

“Hi.” He said a little sheepishly.

“Hi.” You replied. You felt a small blush creeping up your neck.

“How are you?” He asked, lightly checking you over for any visible injuries.

“I’m better. They didn’t…do anything. Like that.”

“Good. Otherwise they wouldn’t be leaving the cage for a couple of days.”

“Yeah…” You smiled weakly. There was a little bit of tension in the air. You weren’t used to being so close and open with him, but it felt…nice. “How’d you find me?”

“We saw the plate on the van as it sped off but couldn’t get back to the car in time to tail it. We put a BOLO out and started canvassing, but it was a couple hours later when we found it in the driveway of some house, so we thought we were too late. Luckily, we weren’t.”

You nodded along slowly before the silence resumed, but not for long. “Thank you.” You whispered meekly.

“Hm?” He furrowed his brows as you locked eyes.

“You know, for getting to me before…”

“Y/N, I told you I always have your back, and I meant it.” He said, and you saw something in his eyes you had never seen before.

“I know.” You hummed, and you felt an overwhelming urge to tell him. To tell him how you felt, that you had loved him for months and were too scared to say anything. “Listen, Jay, I need to tell you something.”

“I do too, Y/N, and I know, I’m the same, but not now. It wouldn’t be right.”

You didn’t feel deterred or ashamed. You completely understood him and wholeheartedly agreed. Although you weren’t sure if you were going to say the same thing, you just nodded, but you craved that comfort you knew he gave you, whilst also wanting to reassure yourself.

So you reached out your hand for his, and he met yours, interlacing your fingers together, his thumb running gently over the back of your hand. He lifted it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin, letting his lips linger there longer than would be considered just friendly, before lowering them back down to the bed. He leaned forward, not to kiss you, put to place your foreheads together, an action that seemed more intimate than a kiss right now. He lifted his eyes to yours once more, and looking into them, that’s when you knew for sure.

You loved Jay Halstead, and Jay Halstead loved you.

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead angst #Chicago PD #One Chicago #chicago pd imagine

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 4 years ago

Text

The Struggle of Loving You - Chapter 25

Chapter Selection

"I'm so proud of you", Aaron whispered into my ear as I laid down on his chest.

I was finished... everything. I passed top of my class in the academy and I couldn't be happier. He was by my side the entire time. I wanted to just stay inside the whole day.

But that couldn't happen, "I got to go to work sweetheart."

I shook my head and mumbled, "Five more minutes."

"I can't be late", I rested my chin on him and glared. "You're the boss... you can be a few minutes late."

He rose his hand to rub up and down my spine, "But I know you're perfect so... I guess you can go."

Rolled off of him, laying down on my back. He chuckled and stood up going into his closet and changing into his suit. The grey suit, white dress shirt and black shoes. "You're staring again."

"Cause you have a nice ass." We laughed and I sat up, crossing my legs.

"What am I going to do today", I muttered to myself. I really had zero clue, I could go out with Chloe and them but they have jobs now. Ones that require a lot of attention.

I was living at the apartment by myself since Chloe moved out a few months after we graduated.

Before I knew it Aaron pressed a soft kiss to my lips, "I'm going."

"Bye."

"Bye", I heard the door close and he was gone. I felt lonely within seconds, being bored out of my mind even though Aaron just left. He'll be back later.

When he left it was 6am, Aaron was always getting in extremely early and because he had just gotten back to work he was eager to catch up on the paperwork that he missed.

It was 8am when I actually looked back at the clock. Only taking a peak at the time when I got a phone call. I lifted my phone and brought it up to my ear, "Hello."

"Hello this is Section Chief Erin Strauss. Am I speaking to y/n l/n."

"Yes ma'am."

"Good Morning Miss. L/n. I'm calling in regard to a position in our Behavioral Analysis Unit. Could you be by FBI headquarters in an hour?"

I was in disbelief, believing in the fact that this woman was calling me. I only knew it was really Strauss because Aaron had mention her before. She had finished talking and was waiting for my response.

"Yes ma'am."

"I look forward to meeting you." She ended the call and I tossed my phone on the bed. I was practically jumping up and down. "Hell Yeah", I darted to my closet and started looking for clothes to wear.

I laid them on the bed and jumped in the shower. Wanting to look my best, getting out I put on some light makeup. Definitely covering the faded hickeys on my neck. After I was finished I locked up the apartment and got into the car.

Still having 20 minutes to spare, I was so excited I forgot to call Aaron about the offer.

Once I was there I got a visitors pass and found Strauss's office. I knocked on her door, "Come in."

I opened the door and took nervous steps inside. She was sitting at her desk, "Agent Y/l/n?"

"Yes ma'am", she stood shaking my hand as I got closer. Both of us taking a seat; she gave me an interview but I could tell she already was going to give it to me. Asking me questions on my education and personal experience.

"Let me take you to BAU", I followed her out of her office and down the hallway. Seeing multiple people, almost every single one of them looked intimating. "Here we are", holding open the bullpen door I walked in first.

Passing the desks sitting in the middle of the room, I saw what I assume was the team. Why does he look familiar.

We walked up the stairs and I read the name on the door, Aaron Hotchner...

And there he was, sitting behind the desk scribbling notes down on his paperwork. "Agent Hotchner this is Agent Y/l/n she'll be filling in the spot of Agent Jareau", Aaron stared up at me. He was holding it together for everyone else but I saw behind that.

He wasn't crazy about me being hired in his unit, he seemed more... upset. I swallowed hard, my mouth felt dry, "Well I'll leave you two." Strauss walked out.

Aaron stood up closing the blinds, "Shut the door." I did as he asked.

"What are you doing here?"

I was in front of him as he stood his ground, "She called me a few hours after you left saying she there was an open position for the BAU... I didn't know you would be here though."

His face got even sadder, "Y/n..." He said quietly. "We can't keep doing this if you're here-- working with me."

I was taken back, my heart sank with every word that spilled. "What are you saying?"

Taking a step back he put his hands in his pockets, "Keep dating..."

I felt the tears welling up and I could tell he could too, "Why?" I tried to keep my composure but barely held on.

"If you were here before we got together it wouldn't matter but y/n... you just got hired." He paused.

"Sleeping with your boss, the unit chief of the place you work isn't exactly going to go well-- for either of us, I'll be seen as the boss that took advantage of a younger new hire. The bureau will think you slept your way in and that's not how I want people to see you."

"You didn't have a problem when you were my teacher... remember that. Wasn't exactly a good spot to be but we made it work." He lifted a hand to his forehead, "That was different, I didn't work at the university."

My voice was strained, trying to hold back the tears. "Bullshit."

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be... please." I scoffed and the tear rolled down my cheek. I could see the restraint in Aaron. Trying to hold himself back from walking over to me and wiping my face.

I stepped towards the door, "You know what-- you're right." I pressed my back to the wall and stared at him.

Right there, that's when our hearts broke. I understood his position and what would happen if we were caught. His reputation would be ruined and mine would dissipate even though it hadn't even gotten started yet.

Although we both wanted to keep seeing each other this was a way of protecting us. I knew this job was important to him. We would still be able to be around each other even if we couldn't do anything about it.

Knowing deep down this was complete and utter bullshit... both of us thought that. Aaron was breaking up with me for the sake of my future career and that was...

I really didn't want to walk out of the office. I wanted to convince him to try anyways but this was a mutual agreement, this needed to end if we wanted to keep our jobs.

"So this is it." I muttered.

"Yeah", he said quietly like he wasn't saying it to me but himself. I stayed where I was recollecting myself before I put my hand on the handle.

"Goodbye Aaron."

"Bye", whispering. I walked out to the bullpen and joined the team. Throwing on a happy face I went to their desks.

They all crowded around talking about the new hire, "There she is." Garcia whispered before they all turned around to look at me.

"You were in there for awhile, was Hotch treating you okay?" Morgan said and I smiled and nodded.

Sucking in a small breath, "Yeah he was fine it. Told me a little about you guys." I lied trying to seem normal about what actually just happened a couple of minutes ago.

Everyone introduced themselves one by one. Each of them welcoming me with open arms, I heard the door open behind me.

My turned my head to the side and saw Hotch against the rail. Both of us getting a wave of regret.

I slightly nodded and went back to the conversation the team and I were having.

——————————

Permanent tag list : @errorcosplay67 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @wanniiieeee @oreogutz @qtip-blog @aberrant-annie

#aaron #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotchner #SSA HOTCHNER #hotch #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #aaron hotch fanfiction #hotch x you

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.1

this arid world has turned my deep heart dry

This is the first chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Chapter Summary: follows S5E1 and Spencer's depression and disordered thinking is introduced.

TW: depression, disordered thinking, loneliness, the events of s5e1 (guns and knives)

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

"She simply said this arid world has turned her deep heart dry, there was just one way she knew of to finally feel like she was free, and it was 1400 feet beneath the cold and stormy sea." — Erin Hanson

Spencer’s entire body feels heavy as he drags himself into work, and it’s not exactly a good sign when he can’t even find the energy to press the button for the right floor; he just stares pitifully at the array of numbers as if the elevator will read his mind and resolve the issue for him. Eventually, he brings himself to move his finger the short distance, cold metal colliding with cold flesh, and the doors shudder close, catapulting him up several storeys towards his fate.

Some might call the emotions Spencer’s experience typical burnout, far too common in the FBI and even more so in units that deal directly with horrific crime on the regular, but he knows it’s more than that. His entire life is operating in a minor key, he’s functioning entirely on auto-pilot, and chunks of his day are a blur, almost impossible to recall. He knows he’s depressed. Knowing such a fact, however, does little to cure the actual problem. He has no idea what to do with information like this except bottle it up and shove it as far down as possible while pretending as much as possible that absolutely everything is fine.

Emily and Derek are laughing about something as he approaches their group of desks. Only weeks ago he would’ve been crushed when they don’t so much as look over to say hello, but now he’s glad to not have to fake a smile, invent a story to tell about his weekend, pretend he’s not currently being held together with slowly peeling sellotape.

Instead, he focuses on feeling grateful that no one’s commented on him arriving a whole hour later than he used to as he unpacks his messenger bag. It’s not like it’s his fault he can’t pull his exhausted body out of bed in the morning, but since he’d rather not disclose such sorry information and finding an excuse is way too much effort, spending the morning in solitude seems the only option.

He doesn’t really understand how he’s gone from being a genuinely happy person, thick as thieves with everybody on the team, to this. It’s almost as though somebody’s cut the rope tying him to the others and now he’s drifting away, sinking without everyone else’s buoyancy to keep him afloat. He can see them all still tied together, barely seeming to notice their drowning team member, clearly not missing his presence.

This misery over his inevitable isolation, though, is his own fault: he can’t believe he let himself forget his place. He’s useful, good to keep around for his intelligence, his reading speed, his problem-solving skills, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Spencer is not friendship material. And he certainly isn’t relationship material.

The day starts off slow, everyone burying themselves in their paperwork, but Spencer finishes it far too quickly for it to really serve as much of a distraction. Depressingly, it’s still miles slower than he’s used to. Since his pile of consults seems too exhausting to even look at, he decides another coffee is very much in order.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ says happily as soon as he pushes his way into the breakroom. She’s leaning casually against the counter as she drinks her coffee, reading through what looks like case notes at the same time.

“Hi,” he says, trying for a smile but he knows there’s no way he could possibly match her relaxed grin. Instead of trying to converse, he just heads straight for the coffee machine, fixing his eyes on the steady stream of coffee pouring into his mug already piled high with sugar.

“You alright?” JJ asks, sounding a little suspicious. Not concerned, Spencer notes, just suspicious.

“Hmm?” He looks up and catches her eye before deciding he should probably answer verbally. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a bit off the past few weeks.”

Spencer sighs. Maybe this is an opportunity to actually communicate his feelings. He doubts JJ will be able to help but really he’d just like a bit of comfort: he’s in so much pain that a hug would feel really nice right now. And besides Penelope, she’s probably the team member he’s most comfortable with. If he’s going to share with anybody, it should be JJ.

“I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, I guess,” he admits, looking up as his left-hand fidgets on the hot ceramic side of his coffee mug. He resents how vulnerable his voice sounds, he’s giving far too much of himself over to hands he’s not sure he can trust, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

“Really?” JJ sounds surprised. Spencer recognises the tone as that of anyone who has a certain perspective on him realising that he also has feelings alongside his intelligence, and it hurts. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer just presses his lips into a thin line and nods awkwardly in thanks.

“I mean… at least you’re not going through what Hotch is,” she offers, completely unhelpfully. “He’s still trying to cope with his divorce and isn’t seeing Jack as much as he used to. Derek was almost killed by the Reaper just a few months ago, Emily only recently lost a childhood friend — I mean, the whole team has been through a lot. Keep your chin up.”

She smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder, before leaving the break room and heading back to her office, leaving Spencer standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. He wants to shout that he was literally poisoned with anthrax only a month ago, if they’re tallying bad things happening as a method of tracking who has the right to be miserable. The others might be going through a lot, that’s true, but it doesn’t lessen any of the pain thudding in his chest and stirring in his stomach.

As he walks back to his desk, he realises he’s learned one thing: opening up = not a good idea.

As completely fucking miserable as he might be, there’s exactly one person in this world who doesn’t deserve to be burdened with any of it, so he carefully tucks it away in his pockets and plasters on the mask he’d perfected so many years ago. It might be a little rusty, after all, it’s been little used in recent years, but it works just as well as it used to do when he pushes the door open to Penelope’s office.

“I bring blueberry muffins,” he says as cheerfully as he can muster, and something inside him does warm as Penelope’s face lights up, squealing a little as she reaches her arms out eagerly, making grabby hands at the paper bag he’s holding.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I love you,” she moans, keen to rip the bag open as he pulls up a chair next to hers.

“I think I do,” Spencer chuckles, and it’s one of the only genuine reactions he’s given in months, “mostly because you tell me every day.”

“Mm, that’s right,” she concedes through a mouthful of warm muffin, pointing a finger at his chest. “I love you even more than I love coding.”

“That’s a lot,” Spencer says, trying for serious but he can’t stop a fond smile slipping across his face.

Penelope swallows her rather large bite of blueberry muffin and passes him his one. “It is,” she says. “How are you, anyway? You look tired, poor baby.”

Spencer looks down for a moment, schooling his expression for a second before he forces himself to look back up at her. “Yeah, I didn’t… didn’t sleep well last night, I guess.” He tries for a reassuring smile but he knows it’s more of a grimace.

Penelope’s face immediately morphs into one of grave concern. Spencer knows that that’s just the way she is, melodrama and fierce protectiveness is virtually her brand at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t any less agonising to see, or the anxiety of being found out any less paralysing. He decides not to give her any room to actually address it.

“I’ll be fine, Penelope, don’t worry,” he says, turning away to brush some muffin crumbs off the desk and into his hand, purely so he doesn’t have to attempt another pathetic smile. “A good night’s sleep tonight will fix me right up.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still looking far too worried for Spencer’s liking.

“Of course, Pen.” He feels sick at lying to her, but he has no idea how to broach any of the tumultuous emotions raging inside of him, especially after JJ shut him down so brutally. “It’s only a bad nights’ sleep.”

He’s saved from her inevitable continued line of questioning by Emily poking her head round the door and asking for Spencer’s opinion on a consult.

While getting out of bed in the morning might be an almost impossible task at the moment, the idea of getting into it at night seems rather depressing, really. That’s probably the reason he’s still at the office, despite the time nearing 8 o’clock and exhaustion settling into every muscle fibre of his being. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s just a little more time in close proximity to one Aaron Hotchner.

Of course, he’d had to accept the fact that he was maybe, just a little bit in love with his boss a long time ago. He just refuses to admit that he’s this embarrassing about it. Perhaps staying late to spend more time with someone you like this much wouldn’t be so weird if there was a reasonable chance of conversation — if he ever even saw him — but there isn’t even that: Spencer sits and works quietly at his desk, Aaron sits and works quietly in his office.

Today, though, today his lingering finally pays off.

Aaron is on his way back from the photocopier when he stops by Spencer’s desk. He doesn’t see him coming, though, is the thing: he has no time to try and make himself look even a smidge less miserable or to school his surprised yet utterly lovesick expression.

“Won’t you want to be heading off soon, Reid?” he asks, clearly curious as to why Spencer remains at his desk when there’s no real work to be doing, but he cleverly paints it in a light-hearted tone. Even though Spencer is completely aware of what Aaron’s doing, he doesn’t feel attacked or under pressure.

“Oh,” Spencer says unintelligently, stammering a little as he scrambles desperately at a somewhat coherent reply, “yes, yeah, I’ll get going soon.” He doesn’t want to lie when he doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t try and offer an explanation for his staying late, and he knows Aaron won’t push. He manages an almost entirely genuine smile, though, which must count for something, even if it’s only because he’s hopelessly in love with the man leaning casually against his desk.

“Right then,” Aaron says, offering a small smile in response, letting his hard exterior drop in the nearly empty office, and even though it’s nothing special, not really, Spencer carefully files it away as his heart pitter-patters against his ribcage and his stomach pools with warmth. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

Spencer just nods in response and gathers his things, placing them carefully in his messenger bag and shrugging his jacket on before walking out of the building. When he glances back, just as he pulls the glass door open, Aaron is watching him carefully. He doesn’t turn away but instead offers a small wave, which Spencer returns bashfully, blushing scarlet in the elevator and on the walk out of the HQ and during the whole trek down the street and sat on the metro train and on the final stretch home. He fumbles with his keys and curses himself for being so goddamn pathetic.

He doesn’t consider it for long, though, because he’s utterly exhausted and his tired bones collapse on the sofa, and who is he to try and get them to move again? Sleep is a mercy.

🌧

The case is gruelling and stressful enough without the endless and constant worry about where on earth Aaron is. He never turns his phone off and Spencer can’t think of a time he’s worked a case without him, not properly; he’s always the first one at the office, the first one on the plane, the first to jump out of bed towards the chance to make a real difference in the world. It’s so out of character for him and it’s utterly distressing.

Nevertheless, he focuses all his attention on the job; on protecting Jeffrey and Tom Barton, on bringing justice to the perpetrator when they inevitably find them. He offers lame and desperate excuses for Aaron not being there, all the while knowing full well that none of them are likely. Something is wrong and he’s powerless to help.

Emily tells him why. He sort of forgets how to breathe.

Getting shot in the leg while simultaneously petrified for the livelihood of the person you’re in love with is inconvenient at best when trying to talk down an unsub and protect a victim and eventually fatal at worst, but somehow he half-manages and Tom escapes unscathed, though he isn’t quite as lucky with the unsub.

That’s what matters, really, isn’t it? That others are safe, even if it means he’s in danger? After all, Tom Barton has lives to save and a son to raise, a wide social circle, and a loving family. What does Spencer have? No, it’s much better that he’s the one hurt than anyone else.

Of course, once the adrenaline of the situation starts to wear off and medics arrive on scene, he realises quite how badly he’s hurt. Already feeling woozy, energy seems to seep out of him as roaring, raging agony takes its place. It’s the first time he’s ever been shot and it’s worse than he could have imagined: no amount of studying literature and anecdotal evidence could prepare him for the feeling of a small metal ball tearing through the flesh and muscle and tendons — though, hopefully, and judging by the amount of blood he’s lost, no arteries or large blood vessels — of his thigh.

His team arrives, minus Emily and minus Hotch, and they’re concerned, of course they are. That is, until he presents them with someone they see as much more important, someone whose life is worth something, someone they care about deeply being hurt. And they leave.

He doesn’t get a chance to tell the medics that he doesn’t want narcotics, so the ride to the hospital is a blur of morphine and voices talking to him, though he can’t quite piece together what they’re saying. He wonders vaguely where everybody is, whether Hotch is alright, whether he’s about to die, but no real emotion is attached to any of these thoughts, they just… are.

He’s rushed into surgery almost immediately after he arrives at the hospital, and the next thing he’s aware of is a dull, ever-present, agonising ache in his upper thigh and exhaustion settled into his bones like his body is pain’s home, fatigue’s resting place. The last time he’d blinked himself awake in a hospital bed, blinding pain burning in one part of his body or another, Derek had been sat by his bed, eating jello.

There’s nobody by his bed this time.

A PCA pump is resting by his right hand but he doesn’t touch it. Clearly, nobody from his team has informed the hospital staff of his previous addiction; he doesn’t even know if they’re at the hospital; if they know what’s going on. The morphine he’s already had is going to be hard enough to deal with, he can feel the future cravings itching beneath his skin already, scarred-over track marks simmering away.

It’s over twenty-five minutes of lying helplessly on a hospital bed in a cool, impersonal room, feeling a certain kind of emptiness sitting in his stomach, before a nurse comes by. She looks pleased enough to see him awake, but he doesn’t care about her satisfaction, he cares about his team, about Penelope, about Aaron, and he’s too exhausted to do anything about it.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says cheerily and for once, he doesn’t try and conceal his despondency. It’s oddly freeing. “I’ll get the doctor to come and explain the situation.”

She bumbles out of the room, clearly not fazed by Spencer’s expression, so he resumes staring at the wall, allowing his thoughts to wander, still not managing to attach much emotion to them other than a miserable sort of emptiness.

The doctor is nice enough, making sure he understands his injury and the procedures he’s had done, as well as the recovery ahead of him, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s as though this is the last straw; this is the proof, the evidence to win the case he’s been fighting in the court of his mind. His team doesn't care. His life is worthless. He will always, always be alone.

JJ stops by briefly. This feels like it should be a consolation, but it isn’t. He learns of what’s happened to Aaron, what his family is going through, and suddenly he feels selfish: how dare he demand and crave attention when Aaron is far more hurt and injured than he is? When he’s far more important and far more deserving of the team’s attention? Self-loathing creeps up his throat and settles into grey cotton wool that won’t melt in his mouth.

Spencer doesn’t know how to react to the incredibly overwhelming events of the day, and JJ doesn’t seem to have time for this. “Right, Spencer,” she says, visibly impatient with his emotional floundering, his lack of verbal response, “I need to go. We need to sort this out for Hotch. We owe it to him.”

She leaves, and all Spencer can think is how much more worthless not being able to work on his case makes him. If he can’t even work to save the man he loves; if he can’t strive effortlessly to protect him and make him happy, then what is he doing here? Aaron will be furious when he finds out Spencer laid in bed lazily instead of diving headfirst into the case.

No. That’s not true. He’ll be sickeningly nice about it, while on the inside suppressing his disappointment, and Spencer will feel even more guilty, he’ll be even more irate with himself, and life will seem just a little bit bleaker.

He’s discharged a few days later, and nobody has visited, barring JJ’s fleeting, impatient stop by. He goes home in a taxi and struggles up the stairs on his crutches, almost glad he didn’t have many personal items at the hospital. Then again, that was because he was completely isolated. And if he did have people to bring him things in the hospital, then he’d probably have someone to help him up the stairs too.

It’s a moot point, really. He dives straight for the non-narcotic painkillers he’d been prescribed as soon as he sits down on his dusty couch in his messy apartment, desperate to relieve at least some of the agony throbbing in his leg still. Clearly, the universe decided he wasn’t in enough pain already; that the unrequited love and the growing depression and the recurring stomach cramps and clenches in his chest weren’t quite sufficient.

He knows the team is working flat out on the Foyet case. But even Penelope, who probably works the hardest of all of them, has had time to send him an encouraging text message promising to pop round as soon as she can. Other than that, his phone is dry and his heart slowly freezing over.

Truthfully, he’s not sure how much more of this he can stand. He’s feeling the same way he did as a child: isolated, othered, hurt, and utterly, utterly alone. When he’d joined the BAU and was welcomed immediately into the arms of a family, he promised himself he’d never feel like that again. He would never, ever allow himself to sink so low; not when he was surrounded by so many people who proved day in day out how much they loved him. Surely, feeling like this would simply be impossible.

For once, Doctor Spencer Reid is proved wrong. And it burns, festers, and screams like nothing else.

Chapter Two

taglist:@criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

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#hotchreid #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #hurt spencer reid #spencer reid whump #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #spencer reid/aaron hotchner #hotch x reid #spencer reid x aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #my writing #RCT #RCT 1

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

Text

Jay Halstead x Reader

The Return

Written by @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: swearing, pregnancy, birth, medical jargon that may not be accurate, Erin Lindsay bashing

Meeting detective Hailey Upton had been more nerve wracking than meeting Jay’s brother Will. He and Hailey were just closer, they had the same job, saw the same things, and had an irreplaceable trusting bond. You never, at any point felt threatened or worried by her presence or relationship with Jay. It was because of their bond that you were nervous, it was important for her to give you the stamp of approval.

You’d all met up at a nice family owned Italian restaurant. You’d all talked about movies, the blackhawks, and food before finally coming to a crucial topic; work. You were an OR nurse at MED while putting yourself through med school, you’d seen and operated on enough cops to know what you were getting into. It could happen at any point, it could easily go south, and you would not be alone in the waiting room if it happened. Miraculously you passed with flying colours, becoming good friends with her.

After that you met the rest of the team when they all went to Adam and Kim’s place to watch the cubs game. Kim was glowing, pregnancy going well aside from her vicious morning sickness, and she took to liking you as well when you made sure she got to eat first. Adam, Kevin, and yourself bonded over your love of puns and bad jokes. Vanessa and Antonio started speaking in rapid Spanish with you, creating a quick and lovable bond. Hank just shook your hand and nodded at you, you weren’t sure what that meant but Antonio assured you it was a good thing.

——————————————————

You were putting the finishing touches on your ensemble for the CPD Chief’s gala when Jay appeared behind you. “Hey hon, are you ready to- holy fuck you’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you Jay. You look handsome.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

——————————————————-

You made your way to Vanessa who was talking with Kevin with a distressed look on her face. “Hey! What’s wrong? We’re at a party with an open bar, what’s with the long face?”

“Uh....... Nothing? You know what, let’s find Hailey. And bug her about Dr Bekker.” You already suspected something was off but knew for sure when you felt Jay go completely rigid. “Jay?” You’d turned to look at him and he was completely pale, looking like he was seeing a nightmare. You followed his eyes to a gorgeous woman standing next to Hank and arguing with Kim in a sleek black dress. “What is she doing here? Why is she here?”

“Who? Who is she Jay?” Kevin and Adam came up to try and support Jay, move him into a chair. The lost and betrayed look in his eyes made it all click in place for you. “Erin.” It was as if she heard you from across the room, she turned and looked at Jay before meeting your eyes with a guarded look.

————————————

You were all seated at the same table and it was fucking awkward. Jay had his arm or hand on or around you the whole time. Erin was clenching her jaw and looked like there should’ve been steam coming out of her ears. Food was served and speeches were made and it was clear that Erin was still unhappy. Despite the fact that she was seated across from him, Jay refused to look her in the eye. It wasn’t nerves, those had worn off, he was pissed. And rightfully so. Voight invited her as his plus one. He didn’t tell anybody, didn’t warn anybody. Everyone was exchanging funny stories, barring Jay, Erin, and Voight. Jay wasn’t opening his mouth except to eat, Voight was glared into silence, and Erin was always cut off by Kim or Hailey.

“So, Y/N/N, any funny patient stories for us?” Erin perked up at Adam’s question. “Oh, you’re a doctor?”

“No, I’m an OR nurse at Chicago med.”

“Hmph. Not smart enough to be a doctor, then?”

“I just couldn’t afford medical school at the time I went to university. I managed to save up enough and get enough scholarship money to start medical school and stuff a few years ago. So now I’m working part time in the OR and I finish medical school this year. As long as I do well, I’ll get a placement for my residency in three months.”

“Oh.”

“So, to answer Adam’s question, last week we had to surgically remove a brand-new toilet brush that a man had shoved so far up his own anus, that it looked like he had a bunny tail.” Kevin choked on his water for a moment before spitting it out all over the centrepiece flowers. “Hahaha, oh my god! Are you serious?!”

“Unfortunately.”

Erin’s bitter voice broke through the hyena-like laughter of the rest of the table. “Saying the word ‘anus’ is a bit uncouth don’t you think?” Kim stared at her, regarding her in disbelief as she mouthed the word ‘uncouth’.

“Not particularly, no, considering it is the medical term for that part of the body and part of the name of a planet.” You shrugged her comment and mood off. It was pretty damn clear why she was behaving like a bratty spoiled child, and it said a lot more about her than it did about you. Besides, it felt like it would be a complete waste of energy to entertain her need for a verbal martial arts battle. She just wasn’t worth it.

“She’s got a point, besides Lindsay, if you make what she says dirty that’s really on you and not her.” Jay shrugged and kiss the top of your forehead.

———————————————

You were encompassed in the warmth of Jay. Low jazz was playing through the speakers as the two of you swayed softly, your head on his chest soothed by his steady heartbeat. At some point Jay had started to hum along to the music and you felt all the stress and anxiety buried deep inside of you just melt away. Nothing but you and the man you love existed. You were in your own glowing golden bubble of warmth and love.

You moved your head up and kissed him on the side of the mouth, humming along with him. He spun you around, tugging a joyous laugh from you throat before tugging you back and leaning his forehead against yours. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, his around your lower back. Your noses moved around one another as your dancing slowed to a stop. It didn’t matter that you lived together, or that you’d been dating for four years, your heart was beating faster than it had the first time you kissed Jay. Suddenly your bubble had burst, you screamed and jumped away from Jay when you felt cold and wet all over your exposed back. The warmth was gone, replaced by a pitcher of ice and water that had been dumped on you courtesy of one Erin Lindsay.

———————————————

The floral smelling bath bomb you’d decided to finally use was just the thing to treat yourself to after your boyfriend’s ex decided to dump ice water on you at a public and major gala right before being called into an emergency at work. While your boyfriend had jumped into action, moving you towards the bathroom to dry up and offering his coat, your newly-made friends jumped to help you and defend you. A very angry and very pregnant Kim escorted you to her car with her husband while Voight made Jay and Erin ‘have a talk’. The only person who didn’t scowl at that news was Erin. Adam kept looking at you and asking if you were okay in the rear view mirror. “Adam, I’m okay. Annoyed, fuck yes, but I’m okay. And I know Jay will be too. I’m not worried.”

“You’re not? Even with their history?”

“No, I’m not worried. We talked about her when we started getting serious actually. She was an incredibly important person in his life, and she turned into a very vicious skeleton in the closet. I’ve got my own skeletons, too, everyone does. I know that he was hurt. Little shocked when he saw her at first, but Jay didn’t talk about everything that happened with her in depth with anyone but me. So I know what’s going on in his head, and I have a pretty good idea of what he’s going to say to her.”

You’d only been home (and dry) for half an hour before you got an ‘all hands on deck’ page from MED. Hastily pulling yourself together and running the three blocks between your apartment and the hospital. There had been a collision which caused several others, leading you to the OR for back to back surgeries for a total of fifteen hours. You’d been dismissed with the promise of forty eight hours off and an impressed nod from your boss.

You’d missed Jay because he’d had to go into work but smiled at the loving note he’d left on the fridge, along with a container of your favourite take out. Your heart absolutely soared at the thought of him.

Stepping out of the tub you patted yourself dry and dressed in soft shorts and sweater. Padding down to the kitchen, excitement at the thought of food bubbling up. The smell of your favourite take out wafted out of the container as you moved it onto a plate. Exhaustion was creeping up and taking hold of you as you shovelled food into your mouth. You welcomed the exhaustion and went to bed, leaving your dirty plate in the kitchen, something you wouldn’t normally do.

———————————————

When Jay returned to your shared apartment well into the evening you could tell that he was worn out. “Tough case?”

“No, actually. It was pretty straight forward, it’s just that Erin kept trying to call me. Since we were in the middle of a case Voight wouldn’t let her up but she kept calling me and Voight kept giving me these looks... I’m just glad that the case is shut, the day is over, and that I got to come home to you.” He gave you a peck on the lips, you could feel the soft smile that he had. “Dinner’s almost ready, would you mind setting the table?”

“Not at all.” You sat across from him at the small table pushed to the side of your kitchen, really looking at him. He looked tired, weighed down, but the tension gripping his body did seem to be lessening the more he was home, the more he ate, and the more he spoke. His eyes were light and happy, truthfully he looked a bit like a puppy. “I have time off tomorrow. Would you want to head up to the cabin?”

“Just for the day?”

“I know that it would be a lot of driving just for a day trip, but yeah.”

“Just to get out of the city for a bit?”

“Exactly.”

“You know it’s not that late, if we left now we could be there in a couple of hours, pick up some groceries on the way, we won’t need much. Wake up there, drive back in the evening.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“On a regular basis. And I love you too, so, so much.”

“How about you pack the necessities and I’ll clean up the kitchen?”

—————————————————-

You and Jay were on the road in forty minutes, just leaving Chicago as dusk started to dissolve into night. Jay’s secret country playlist was winding its was out of the speakers, the silence between the two of you was peaceful. The cooler bag filled with quick meals and leftovers Jay whipped together, removing the need for a grocery store. The coolness of the night encompassed you both, and the further you got from Chicago the heavier your eyelids got. A deep chuckle left your boyfriends throat. “Get some sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

——————————————

Jay Halstead was a dirty liar. He didn’t wake you up when he got to the cabin, instead he went in ahead to put the power and water on, put away the food, changed the sheets, dusted quickly, and then carried you in and put you in bed. And when you woke up and realized what he did, he even put on your pajamas for you, all he could do was kiss your nose and tell you how adorable you were when you pouted. Leftover stir fry was breakfast for the both of you. You were miffed that he did everything alone last night, and in the back of your mind you knew it was because he felt guilty about Erin showing up, but you couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he’d made your favourite food while you were packing last night. “Are you wanting to fish at all today or just swim?”

“Just swim around, we’ve missed the part of the morning that’s best for fishing and honestly I’m not really in the mood for it, unless you want to fish. I can take the boat over to the marina and pick up some bait if you want.”

“I’m okay for today too, Jay. But I think it would be nice to take the boat over to the marina and get ice cream before we leave.”

“Ooh, yes. I’ll go check to see how much fuel we have for the boat.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you out on the dock in a minute, I’m just gonna deal with the dishes.”

“That’s a funny expression, ‘deal with the dishes’ you sound like your going to ground them for throwing a baseball through a window or something.”

“Haha, I guess it does.”

——————————————

The bottom of the lake was brown, a result of the rocky bottom, but it didn’t matter that it didn’t look like the perfect insta post. It was fresh, and clean, and stunning, even with the mosquitos the size of a dog. And that’s how the morning was spent, swimming around the lake and laughing, enjoying the lighter air and the refreshing feeling from swimming around underwater amongst the algae and skittish fish. Carefree joy was a good look on Jay. The image of him throwing his head back as he tread water with the lake glistening around him, the sun enhancing the beauty of all the trees, plants, and cabin on the shore far back behind him as birds called out to each other was one that captivated you. “What?” His shoulders were sagging back to their regular position and Jay tilted his head slightly at you. You swam a few strokes closer and kissed him. As deeply as you could while both of you were treading water in the middle of a lake. Your legs kicked each other’s as you worked to stay afloat without your arms. You gripped onto each other, just reveling in the love you both shared. It didn’t last long unfortunately, because neither of you could tread water entangled in another persons limbs and without your arms. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“On a regular basis. And I love you too. So, so much.”

——————————

Lunch had been absolutely delicious. What could be better than your favourite food, with your favourite person, in your favourite vacation spot, after a breathtaking kiss in the middle of a lake? Absolutely nothing. That’s what. What made the day even better was Jay taking you both over to the marina in the boat to get locally made ice cream. “Halstead, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Martin.”

“And who’s the lady you’ve brought with you?”

“This is Y/N, my girlfriend. How have you been? I didn’t see you the last couple of times i was here.”

“I was retired in Florida. Didn’t like the heat though, so I came back. I’m living in the old O’Reilly property, they needed something bigger cause it’s only one bedroom, but it’s perfect for a retiree like me.”

“So you’re back to micromanaging Josie?”

“No, she’s run this place better than I ever did, it’s in the best possible hands. What are you guys here for? It’s too late in the day for bait.”

“Ice cream, we’re driving back to Chicago tonight cause we both have to work tomorrow.”

“Shame, how long have you guys been up here for?”

“Oh, just today, we drove up last night. Just needed a break from the city, you know?”

“I do. Well I don’t want to keep the two of you from ice cream, but you’ll have to give me a holler the next time you or Will are up here, we’ll have dinner or something.”

”Definitely. I'll see you around.”

”And you should come too, Y/N, I have plenty of stories about your boy from when he was wee.”

”Oh, well, I would not miss that for anything.”

”What? No, come on, you don't want to listen to embarrassing stories about me.”

”I really, really do.”

”They have mint chip.”

”One day, I will hear those stories. One day.”

”I like you already, Y/N.”

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

You were a little sad to leave the cabin, even though you'd only really been there for 24 hours. It had been a nice escape of reality, and Josie had been more teasing than her father. As you packed the rest of the bags in the car, there had only been three in total, really, you let out a bit of a sigh. The crickets we're playing a concert and the dreaded mosquito dogs had come out to hunt, but the aura was something you'd miss, even though you and Jay could come back.

The car ride back was filled with soft rock this time, and you felt yourself mouthing along to the songs.

---–--------------–

You were both a bit groggy the next day but it wasn't anything either of you couldn't handle. You arrived to your shift relaxed and we'll rested. ”Good morning Y/L/N. You look well rested, I take it the 48 treated you and Jay well?”

”Yeah, it did.” Your bubbly mood was it short though, when Dr. Bekker stormed into the prep room, clearly angry. “Well I should hope so, considering the rest of us had to pay for it.”

“What? There are other OR nurses, and I didn’t think either of you were scheduled for that time either.”

“No, it we did go to Molly’s. And do you know who else went to Molly’s?”

“Ava-“

“Erin Lindsay.”

“Oh no.”

“Damn right. She spent hours pulling on people’s arms and shouting about how you’re a whore-“

“Excuse me?!”

“Ava, really-“

“Okay!” She stopped her ranting for a moment. She leaned on the metal basin, completely ignore the suds on her arms and that she’d have to wash them again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak to you like that. It not your fault and you’re not a whore, no woman is. I just- it was the first time Hailey and I have been to Molly’s together since we started dating and your boyfriend’s cow of an ex had to ruin it.”

“I’m sorry, Ava. I- it’s not my place to handle her or anything. She’s not my ex.”

“No, but she is Jay’s, and the reason she was unhappy at Molly’s is because Jay apparently told her that they’re never getting back together.”

“Yeah, she was screaming at everyone, mostly intelligence that Jay had to still love her and all that. She got pretty hammered, Voight had to be called in to take her home.”

“What do you think- they just rolled the patient in, time to get in there and repair his left ventricle.”

———————————————

Your day was long and so was Jay’s so you decided to eat out, at a great Thai place Jay had introduced you to. “Erin wants me to move to New York to be with her, I don’t want to and I’m not going to, I just figured I should let you know.”

“Okay... I have to be honest Jay, I don’t know what to make of any of this.”

“Erin just got out of a bad relationship and I guess she remembered the good times we had together, and forgot that we had more bad times. It was both of our faults really. We both lied, and omitted, and kept things from each other. Our relationship wasn’t healthy, and it took me a long time and therapy to realize that. I don’t have anything against her and I wish her well, but I don’t feel the need to have her as a significant person in my life anymore, or be one in hers. I think that our story ended four years ago and that she’s just in a bad place right now, like I was when I dated Camila.”

“Okay. That doesn’t make her behaviour okay-“

“Oh absolutely not-“

“But I get it. I’ve been in that place too, so I get it.”

——————————————

Erin wasn’t as ready to let go of the subject as Jay, apparently. Voight remained quiet on the subject, something that infuriated you because he brought Erin back into everyone’s lives with no notice and no concern for their well being. Kim was still mad, so angry that she had banned Erin from meeting her newborn baby. “I deliberately never said a word about you to her all this time bec- ahhhhhhhhh.”

“Okay, Kim, I get it. You were a good friend and didn’t tell her anything about my life since she left because you knew I wouldn’t want her to know, it seriously, please stop focusing on an unnecessary apology to me when you should be focused on breathing until we get to the hospital.”

“Adam will meet us there?”

“Yes.”

“You promise you’re not ma-aaaaaaaaaaaaadddddd!!!”

“I promise, you never did anything wrong. Okay we’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re having a baby with ruzek. He’s kindof annoying-“

“KEV! Let’s focus on getting Kim out of my truck and into the hospital so that she can have her baby in a sterilized environment, okay?”

“Right, let’s go girl.”

Kim hadn’t needed to worry about epidural as it turned out, the baby went into distress almost immediately after she passed through MED’s doors, causing her to go into distress, and resulting in her needing an emergency C-section. You weren’t part of the OR team for that surgery because of how close you were, it you knew everyone who was and knew she was in good hands. You had been put in charge of giving the anxious police officers updates.

“They just finished the surgery, it went amazing. Kim’s in recovery and they baby’s getting checked out as we speak. And, Adam didn’t faint. He did very well, actually cut the cord.” Grumbles filled the waiting room as money was passed to Hailey. “Come on guys, you really had that little faith in him?”

“No one will be able to see Kim or the baby until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, but it might be longer. They both need time to recover.”

A few days later the waiting room was once again filled with police officers, this time some of their relatives were in attendance. You sat beside Jay, in regular clothes this time, waiting to be given the all clear to visit. You two were called over with Hailey and Ava, clutching a homemade blanket for the baby and a homemade meal for the parents. They were immensely grateful, Kim especially since she’d just been told that she could go back to non-hospital food. You were sitting on the recliner cradling baby Eliza, who was cooing in your arms when there were shouts and crashes in the hall. Everyone turned towards the door. The cops who hadn’t given birth less than a week ago, Hailey, Jay, and Adam, went into tactical mode, Kim stopped eating and took Eliza back, Ava grabbed the hospital phone to figure out what was going on, and you stood in between Kim and the door as the three cops made their way slowly into the hall. You’d locked the door after they left, peeking out of the small window. “I don’t see anything.”

“Erin.” You turned towards Kim, who just looked tired. “I talked to hospital security when she first got here, said that I didn’t want her to be able to see me. Or the baby. I just... I don’t trust her anymore. I spoke to her the day before she flew down here, I actually asked if she was ever coming back to visit. She said ‘no’. And then she just showed up at the gala... I feel pretty betrayed by her, honestly. She never initiates contact. Ever, it always falls on me. She’s spent years trying to get me to say something about Jay every once in a while, but I’ve always just said that she left him, you know? She left and didn’t say good bye or call or text so she doesn’t have any right to know anything about him now. And she’s been acting like a spoiled brat, you know she’s used the excuse of hanging out with me to try and get information about you and your relationship. I don’t feel like I’m her friend anymore. I feel like I’m her tool. And I just had a baby, a tiny human who relies on me, I don’t have time for toxic friends who make me feel like that. So I told her not to come and for security not to let her in.”

“Do you feel a bit better now that you’ve said all that out loud and to someone who isn’t Adam?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, well, if you don’t want to see her, you don’t have to. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks.”

——————————————-

Erin had burned pretty much every bridge she had in Chicago in the two weeks she was there. She lost a lot of people’s respect after the incident in the hospital. When it became clear that some of her once closest friends were done with her, people felt it was okay to voice their grievances. After being shunned at 51, MED, 21, Molly’s, and her mother’s house, she showed up at your and jay’s apartment. A last ditch attempt at... Something.

“Please Jay, I love you.”

“No Erin, you don’t. You haven’t even seen me in four years. You’re just in a bad place right now. Go back to New York, okay? Your life is there now.”

She’d been in tears when she left, ugly crying, her face blotchy and make up running, as horrifying sounds ripped out of her throat. Jay just looked sad as he called Voight to pick her up.

———————————————

TWO WEEKS LATER

You were in stitches beside Jay, trying to breathe while laughing so hard. “Seriously?!”

“Hey, I was seven!”

“And I was five! Just listening to my idiot older brother!”

“We couldn’t believe it, the two Halstead boys running across the marina docks completely naked, and covered in blue paint!”

“Hey, I thought it was funny, and I ended up a doctor Jay, and I’ve stitched you up a few times, I’m not so much of an idiot, huh? Nat, c’mon, it’s not that funny.”

“Yes it is!”

“Y/N.”

“What? It is!” Another round of laughter peeled out from you, Natalie, Owen, and Martin’s daughter Josie as Martin continued to make gestures. “It took us a good minute to round them up. Me and Miriam, mind you, Pat just sat in the boat. Your mom was laughing so hard by the time we caught you both.”

“Please tell us more stories, Martin. That was REALLY funny.”

“Owen! You want to hear more embarrassing stories about me?”

“They’re funny!”

“Alright, well you heard the little man, Martin, more stories.” Will and Jay sighed, tried to relax, and resigned themselves to their fate. Their girlfriends and surrogate son/nephew were going to hear every single embarrassing story that Martin had. Which was a lot considering he was their father’s childhood best friend, had spent most of their summers around him, and he had a memory like a steel trap. “Don’t worry Jay, I’ll still love you after this, I promise.”

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thatesqcrush · 4 years ago

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Neighbors, Pt. 3

Rafael Barba x Reader. CW: angst, pining, language. Episode references: Nationwide Manhunt (SVU) & The Song of Gregory William Yates (CPD). WC: 1892

AN: A non-smut chapter? Who am I? Forgive me for typos.

The next morning you woke up startled. You rubbed your eyes and tried to make sense of your surroundings: you had fallen asleep on your couch, the TV screen black (with the flashing reminder to turn off your TV if not watching). Your alarm was screeching from the bedroom and there was pounding on your door. You reached for the remote and turned off the TV before going to answer the door. You stood and paused, groaning as your head began to throb.

You undid the deadbolt but left the security chain on and cracked the door open. “Oh, Raf – it’s you.” You replied with a sigh of relief. “Hold on.” You closed the door and undid the chain and then re-opened the door. You both stood there in the doorway, staring at each other, nothing being said. Finally, Rafael opened his mouth, taking the first step.

Can I come in?” Rafael looked fashionably sensitive, in his dark tapered jeans and oxford shirt, with his sleeves rolled up. You cocked your head and wondered if the Harvard lawyer truly knew how handsome he was.

“Sure.” You replied, opening the door wider to let him in. “I have to turn off my alarm, give me a second.” You walked down the hall to your room. “Look about last night…” You called out as you turned it off.

Rafael gave you a shrug. “Don’t worry about it, detective.”

You gave him a look that was half-bemused and half annoyance. “I have a name. What did I tell you about that?”

Rafael crossed his arms and grumbled an expletive in Spanish, which made the corner of your lips twitch slightly, knowing that you could get under his skin a little. “Y/N.” He replied, his voice clipped.

You let out a small laugh. “I am just teasing.” Your smile faded quickly. “Seriously, though, I’m really sorry.”

Rafael eyed your unkempt appearance and gave you a small smile before shaking his head. “You were hurting and drunk.” He pulled you into a tight hug, squeeze and you took a deep inhalation of his cologne which comforted you. Reluctantly, you broke the hug.

“I think we should keep things professional from now on.” Rafael announced quietly. He shifted his footing and shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn’t miss the hurt that flashed across your face.

You straightened and took a deep breath. “Duly noted.” After a beat, you continued. “And I think that’s best.”

Rafael nodded slowly, taken a bit by your quick agreeance. “So…” Tension quickly filled the room and the pounding in your head intensified.

“Want to get some breakfast before work?” Rafael suggested. “Just as colleagues.” He added for good measure.

“If you don’t mind waiting…” You waved your arm over your haphazard appearance.

“Not at all.”

You started walking backwards towards your bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a bit.”

Under the hot steam of your shower, you wondered when everything got so fucked up and longed for the days when things were so simple. When you emerged back into the living room, you paused as you slipped on your watch. Rafael was sitting on the couch, watching CNN. There was something so domestic about it. Your heart skipped a beat.

‘No. Focus.’ You thought to yourself. You plastered a smile on your face and put the kibosh on any feelings that were forming. “Ready?”

Rafael turned off your TV and stood, turning to face you. “Absolutely.”

As you walked by, Rafael grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey – are we okay?” He pointed his finger at you, then at himself. You winked.

“Of course. Now, lets get some food. I’m starved.” The waft of your lavender shampoo made its way to Rafael’s olfactory sensors and he felt his stomach twist painfully as he followed you out the door.

You both settled at a diner near One Hogan Place. You ordered an egg scramble and whole wheat toast and Rafael ordered an everything bagel with lox. Copious amounts of coffee were had. You were grateful for easy, though at times stilted, conversation. As Rafael settled the bill – which he insisted on doing – a breaking news alert on the overhead TV caught your eye.

You flagged down a waitress. “Excuse me, can you raise that?” The waitress nodded and raised the volume. The reporter’s words shook you to your core. Rafael watched as the color drained from your face.

Breaking news: two inmates from Green Haven Correctional have escaped. Both Yates and Rudnick were serving life sentences for multiple counts of rape and murder. They should be considered extremely dangerous. Officials are cautioning that anyone who sees them or has information on either of the two men should not attempt to interact with them. We will keep you updated as this story continues.

You stormed into the bullpen with Rafael following at your heels. “Liv! What the hell are we going to do?”

Olivia cocked her brow at your outburst. “Y/N, I take it that you heard the news.” She took off her glasses and sat on the corner of Amanda’s desk.

“We’re going to run this by the book. We’re headed up to Green Haven. Hank and I spoke, the 21st is going to meet us there. Y/N, you’re staying here.”

“Like hell I am!” You snarled.

“Y/N, it’s best if you stay here. We are keeping you safe.” Liv replied softly. “Yate’s baiting you.”

“After using me to talk to him, you decide now to bench me? If he wanted me, he would have had me already.” You replied angrily. You slammed your hand on your desk. Rafael put a hand on your shoulder and you shoved his hand off.

“If I'm bait, let me be bait. I can draw him in. Let me do my job.”

“You are too personally invested. You need to stand down.” Olivia replied sternly.

“No. I need to come up. Just… I can help from behind the scenes. I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Famous last words.” You whipped around and stared at Amanda who gave you a knowing look. “Look Y/N, I know how Yates works too. I can put myself out there – use me.” Amanda replied.

“All due respect, but no.” You retorted. At that moment, your phone buzzed. You pulled out your phone and looked at the text. “It’s Erin; I have to take this.” Rafael didn’t miss how your face crumbled as you walked out to take the call.

State troopers, FBI, ATF, SVU and CPD all converged at a local church in Stormville, just 90 minutes outside of Manhattan to begin the search for Yates and Rudnick.

“NYPD's Special Victims Unit and Chicago Intelligence are here to give specifics about the fugitives.” Warden Lucille Fenton announced.

“These guys are intelligent. They're motivated. They're charming, and they are without conscience.” Olivia began. She listed their heinous acts on her fingers. “Their crimes include rape, kidnapping, torture, and murder.”

“Now, Yates is definitely capable of hot-wiring cars. He's adept at identity theft, and he is highly manipulative. Especially when preying on young women.” You continued.

“Rudnick can blend in easily. We know that he assumes disguises, usually of an older female.” Sonny finished.

“We've already begun house-to-house searches and roadblocks. Air support with heat sensors and infrared will be in the air within the half hour.” Major Bowman with the State Troopers announced.

“Search every inch of this county. My staff has pulled security cameras, visitors' logs, and personnel files.” Lucille turned to Olivia.

“Okay, my team can help with the interviews.” Olivia agreed, before going over to you.

Rafael watched as you and Olivia spoke from the other side of the room. “Hey, how bad are these guys?” Lucille asked Rafael quietly.

Rafael swallowed hard. “Think Robert Durst and Ted Bundy on the run together.”

After an exhaustive search that came up empty, Olivia advised that a local hotel was putting up everyone for the time being. “Those who can keep going, we appreciate it. Those who need to rest… rest and come back.”

“Y/N, why don’t you get some sleep.” Rafael suggested, taking in your worn appearance. “It’s been a long and hard day.”

“I’ll rest when we have Yates and Rudnick.” You replied, pouring another coffee. As you reached for the sugar, you knocked over your coffee, spilling it all over on a table that had been set up at the church. You swore and scrambled for napkins to clean up. As Rafael helped you, your ex-fiancé, Adam approached.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Adam questioned. “Need help?”

“I got it!” You snapped. You took a deep breath. “Sorry. Just on edge.”

Adam walked around and reached for your arm, stopping you. You looked at Adam and Rafael watched as Adam pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapped around you. Rafael could see the appeal of Adam with his rugged looks. You melded into Adam’s embrace. You opened your eyes and met Rafael’s. You tried to read his face, but he appeared stoic and impassive.

“I think I am going to head to the hotel a bit and get some rest.” You replied breaking the hug. You grabbed the soiled napkins and shoving them into the now empty coffee cup. Your hands were sticky and smelled like coffee, to which you crinkled your nose in disgust.

“I am too.” Rafael replied, shaking himself back to present. “Want to ride together?”

“I’ll drive.” Adam offered. “Come on.” Rafael followed behind slowly as Adam and you walked ahead, Adam’s arm wrapped around you.

Rafael felt something in his guts churn that felt an awful like jealousy. Rafael let out a huff and you turned your attention to Rafael. Rafael didn’t say anything and you felt more puzzled than before.

The next morning, Rafael knocked on your hotel door, hoping to check in on you. You opened the door, clad in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs. Rafael swallowed hard.

“Hey – “ Rafael began. His voice trailed as he looked past your shoulder, watching Adam walk in the background.

“What’s up? I told Liv I’d be down in 20. Has there been an update?”

“Um, yeah – overnight Carisi and Rollins apprehended Rudnick. He was discovered hiding in a docked boat by Caroga Lake. Rudnick suffered multiple injuries.” Rafael replied. Adam joined from behind, tugging on his shirt. Rafael ignored him, focusing on you.

“I'm not shedding any tears.” You replied, as you crossed your arms, leaning against the door frame.

“Yates hobbled him - broke both his knees, his ankles, pierced his eardrum. Just left him to die.” Rafael continued.

“Should have let him. Is he talking yet?”

“Only to Carisi, and he's in and out of consciousness. He did indicate the plan was to cross the border at the Saint Lawrence River.”

You turned, pushing past Adam and grabbed your jeans, which were laying on a heap on the floor. “Come on – lets go.”

“What are you going to do?” Rafael asked.

You holstered your gun into your waistband. “What I should have done a long time ago.”

“Olivia…”

“Olivia nothing. Now, Rafael – just get out of my way.”

Rafael looked at Adam. “You’re going to let her just go after a serial killer?” Adam scoffed. “No. I’ll go with her. We’ll see you at the church.”

TBC.

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#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #chicago pd x svu imagine

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katehuntington · 4 years ago

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Title: Black Dog - part three Word count: ±2700 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part three summary: Two leads point into different directions. Which one are the Winchester brothers going to follow? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 & @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

Dean gives his Chevrolet Impala a final clean up and looks at the end result. Ronny nods satisfied, too. “Good as new.” They mechanics carefully beat out the small dent in the lid and restored the paint with a polisher. The lock of the trunk took some time to replace, but now it closes perfectly.

“Thanks, man,” Dean says gratefully, offering him some money for the work. “Any time. Put that away. I owe you Winchesters more than that,” Ronny reminds him. “Sure you guys don’t want a beer?” Dean hesitates, but then shakes his head. “I’d love to catch up, but we should get going. The world isn’t rid of all evil motherfuckers just yet.” Ronny chuckles at that. “Fair enough. Good to see you again, though.” “You too. Take care, Ron,” the oldest Winchester brother returns.

The ex-hunter retreats back into his garage, and Dean glances at the trunk for the second time and smiles satisfied. He’s glad he got it fixed. The clunking sound every time they hit a pothole was driving him crazy, and with enough arsenal for a small military operation inside, he wasn’t really keen on leaving it unlocked either.

As he takes a look around the abandoned street, he realizes he’s missing the tall individual that usually occupies the passenger’s seat. Where the hell did Sam go? Instinctively, Dean scans the area, uneasiness evident in his stomach, a sensation which arises ever since he was a kid, whenever he loses sight of his little brother. Then he spots him a bit further down the road. He’s on the phone with someone, and for a second he wonders if it’s Zoë he’s having a conversation with.

Waiting for his brother to return, he leans against his car, shoving his hands in his pockets. The sun feels nice and warm on his back as it burns away the coolness of the night. Now that he has nothing to do for a moment, his thoughts sneak off. He doesn’t like it one bit, but he can’t help but think of the huntress they crossed paths with a little under a week ago. He may pretend that he doesn’t give a shit, but he has to admit that she has been on his mind more than a couple of times. Not that he likes her, fuck no, but Sullivan left an impression that has him wondering. She has been through more in the twenty-five years that she has walked this earth than most endure in an entire lifetime. Maybe that is why he deep down cares; he can relate to her.

Dean exhales, not dwelling too long on the reason behind the intrigue. Instead, he wonders if Sam’s presumption is actually true. The fierce Zoë Sullivan being in deep shit; he can barely picture it. She always seems in control, even when things don't go as planned. She caught him off guard. He, Dean Winchester, can you fuckin’ believe that? The older Winchester sibling rolls his harmed shoulder, testing its mobility. She shot me, for fuck’s sake.

Even though he has been in the field longer than she has, Zoë seems to expertly know her way around the world of monsters that is their reality. She’s a bright girl, skilled, fast, fearless. She has every aspect of a perfect hunter. But after those last words back in Paragould, he was left with the impression that the battle she was going towards, is one she didn’t expect to win. It truly felt like a final goodbye. A disturbing question pops up in his head; did he make a mistake not going after her? The two guys they saved from a werewolf in Waco probably don’t think so.

Dean stares ahead, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth while contemplating his choices. Maybe they should go after her anyway, see if they can pick up her trail. North is indeed a big place, but then again, a hot chick on a Harley Davidson would stand out. It’s a long shot, but if they play this right, they may be able to find her.

The matter escapes his mind when he feels his phone vibrating, the buzzing device startling him slightly. Somewhat annoyed by his own reflex, the hunter takes his Motorola and notices the small icon of an envelope in the right upper corner; he has received a text message. It’s probably Erin, his hook up back in Waco, who had to wake up alone this morning. She must be wondering where the man she met in a bar three days prior has gone. But when Dean opens his inbox, his eyes widen in shock.

At the top of the list of incoming messages, it says ‘Dad’.

Dean’s heart has picked up speed, now pounding twice as fast than it was seconds ago. Last time he checked, his father’s phone was inactive, and now there’s a message coming in from that number? Different scenarios flash through his mind, not sure if he should prepare for good or bad news. With shaky fingers, he opens the text.

Job: 48°13’11.00”N 121°41’4045”W

Dean exhales, still staring at his cell. He can’t fucking believe it. John disappeared from the face of the earth, nowhere to be found, and after all this time he sent a few numbers and letters. The older Winchester brother huffs out a laugh. It doesn’t matter, though. Relief frees Dean from the crippling worry that he has tried to stuff down for over a month now, but kept him up at night nonetheless. This text confirms what he’s been hoping for; Dad is alive.

Thrilled, Dean turns around and glances down the street, noticing Sam, who hastens towards the car. He can’t wait to share the news, knowing they have both been so desperate for a breakthrough.

“We’ve gotta go,” they both say at the same time. “Me first,” Dean demands, childish. “What are you? Seven?” Sam huffs, raising an eyebrow to match with the sass. Despite his accusation, he counters in the same manner. “What I’ve just heard is bigger.” “Bigger than this?” Dean brags while flashing a grin, victoriously handing his brother the Motorola.

Curiosity wins and Sam takes it, attentively reading the message. His eyes narrow, but then his jaw falls open when he realizes who the sender is. John’s youngest son isn’t impressed, though. In fact, what shows on the display infuriates him.

“That’s it?” he scoffs, agitated, giving the phone back to his brother. “After a month of silence, that’s what he gives us?” “Sam, don’t you realize what this means? He’s okay!” Dean brings to mind. “Don’t bitch about this.” “Just because he’s able to send us a text message, doesn’t mean that he’s okay. We’re not even sure it’s him!” Sam returns bitterly. “Oh, come on. This is so Dad. One word and coordinates, that’s straight up Marine Corps right there. It’s more convincing than his fuckin’ signature,” the older brother argues.

“And what the hell are we supposed to do with this? Trust him blindly and do a job he can’t find the time for because he’s hunting whatever the thing is that killed Mom?” Sam assumes, his arms flying up before he lets them come down to his sides again. “Exactly,” Dean states, matter of factly. “Don’t you see, Sam? This is what I’ve been telling you. He doesn’t want to be found, he wants us to hunt.”

Dean opens the passenger side door and rummages in the dashboard locker. When he straightens his back, he pulls out a brown notebook; it’s John’s journal. “This book. This is dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. He could’ve taken it with him, but he didn’t. He’s passed it on to us.” Dean looks deep into his brother's eyes while he points at the leather bound book that is the representation of the Bible to the Winchesters. “Dad’s journal, the text... Dad is telling us he wants us to do what we were trained for.”

“You know what I want? I want to find him,” Sam returns determined, handing back the phone. “And how the fuck were you planning to achieve that, huh?” Dean returns. “I don’t need a plan, I already know where he is,” the younger brother states.

Puzzled, Dean stares at him, waiting for an explanation. There has been zero contact between their old man and Sam for years, and now all of a sudden he has figured out where John is at? “How?” he questions, suspicion rising. “I just received a call. He’s in Tennessee. In Nashville to be precise,” his sibling states. Dean frowns. “A call? From who?”

The shrug of Sam’s shoulders is nonchalant. “I think she might be a hunter or something.” “She? Does this mystery lady have a name?” Dean questions further, trying to get details while frustration bubbles in his chest, triggered by his brother’s short answers. “She didn’t give it, but it doesn’t matter. We’re going to Tennessee,” Sam decides.

Dean laughs out loud, dropping the journal on the passenger’s seat before he turns away. Then he returns to glare at Sam as if he just made a joke. “You wanna go to fucking Nashville based on an anonymous call? Did the sun fry your brain or something? This could be a fucking trap, Sam!” Dean shouts, indignant. But his sibling is determined. “I don’t care. If he’s there, I’m going.”

Dean steps closer and halts right in front of him. He has to look up to stare into the eyes of his taller brother, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating.

“Dad has given us an order,” he growls, his words spoken in a low tone. “I said: I. don’t. care,” Sam battles him. “Well I do, you stubborn dumbass!” Dean counters with a raised voice. “What you are planning to do is fucking dangerous! Dad doesn’t want you on his tail, you’ll blow his cover!”

“You’re calling me a dumbass?! Dad is after an incredibly powerful monster by himself, alone! He’s the dumbass for not accepting our help! We already lost Mom, I lost Jess, I’m not going to lose him too. I want answers, I want a piece of that son of a bitch that ruined our lives and I want it right fucking now! If Dad doesn’t want me there, that’s his problem!” Sam shouts angrily.

“You’re going against him?” Dean isn’t impressed with the outbreak, and slightly shakes his head. “Oh right, I forgot. That’s what you always do; the exact opposite of what he asks!” he continues cynically. “He doesn’t ask. He orders,” his brother corrects. “And you follow those orders like a fucking lapdog.” “It doesn’t matter how he tells us what to do, Sam! He’s our God damn father, so you better suck it up and fucking LISTEN!!!”

Dean is sure one of Ronny’s neighbors is going to emerge from one of the houses, telling them to shut up and take this argument elsewhere, instead of fighting it out in the middle of the street. He doesn’t care, however. His little brother has forgotten his place, and he needs to set him straight.

“I do whatever the hell he tells me to do because I trust him, because I respect him, which is something I’m gonna strongly advise you to do as well, because your attitude fucking stinks,” Dean lectures, his moss green eyes penetrating, fire burning in his irises. “Now get in the fucking car, because we’re going to drive to wherever those coordinates lead us to.”

Puffing his chest while straightening his back to make himself seem even taller, Sam crosses his arms. His older sibling might think he has all the authority, but he’s not a little kid anymore who he can boss around. Those days are long gone. He thought his departure to Stanford taught Dean a lesson or two, but apparently he needs to remind his brother that he plays by his own rules, and no one else's. “I’m not going with you,” he decides, standing his ground.

For a moment, Dean just stares at him, giving him a second to reconsider that conclusion, but Sam doesn’t even blink. Their gazes battle, the air between them almost too thick to breathe, rivalry carving a deep canyon between the two. “I’m gonna give you a choice,” Dean snarls. “You can come with me and solve that case, or you can go fuck yourself.”

Sam gulps, but stands his ground. His facial expression doesn’t change as he steps back, away from his brother, and heads over to the back of the Impala without breaking eye contact, until he opens the trunk to grab his duffel. The glare Dean receives when he slams the lid closed says enough; he’s not coming along for the ride.

Stunned, Dean stares at him and huffs in disbelief. Un-fucking-believable. He has always known Sam was stubborn, but now he takes the cake. Disappointed, the older brother shakes his head. This is the second time Sam has chosen a different path and leaves him without even batting an eye, but it scares Dean just as much as when he left and went to college. He’s not alright with what he’s about to do, but he can’t give in. He has to listen to his father. Frustratingly, he pulls open the door of the Impala. “Goodbye, Sam.”

Trying to hide his unpleasant surprise, the man left in the road watches him. He didn’t expect this, Dean taking off without him, but then again, how could he not expect a soldier to follow orders from his general? It doesn’t change anything, though. He is dead set on investigating this lead and finding his father.

The man who is about to put a distance between himself and the one person he swore to never part with again, glances in the rearview mirror. He wishes he hadn’t, because the coldness in Sam’s hazel eyes seems foreign, yet familiar. As Dean starts the engine, he realizes he is either having a major deja-vu, or is reliving one of the worst days of his life. Despite the painful pressure that’s building in his chest and the panic that floods his brain, he lowers his right foot on the gas pedal, and the car rolls away. He doesn’t drive off as fast as he normally would, because he’s fighting the urge to turn around. Pained, he glances in his mirror again. “C’mon, Sam. Move,” he begs.

But Sam doesn’t even lift a finger, and he remains in the exact same spot. Then he does move, but not in the way Dean hoped. His little brother turns his back on him and heads towards downtown Hillsboro, in the opposite direction.

With a deep sigh, Dean shakes his head, clamping his left hand around the wheel until his knuckles turn white. “Stubborn bastard,” he sighs.

His jaw clenches, as West Elm Street flows over in Route 22 and the landscape around him changes. Small homes and sheds make room for stretched out farmlands. But he doesn’t notice the scenery. His conscience is fighting his heart. He wants to hit the brakes and pull the car into a 180° so badly, but he has to listen to his father. Never in his life has Dean done anything else than that, disobedience not being a word one could find in his dictionary. Yet in this situation, both of the options are pitfalls. It doesn’t matter which way he goes, he will make a mistake either way. Because the one line that his father drilled in his mind over and over again keeps haunting him.

Take care of Sammy.

He grinds his teeth, but continues to drive further and further away, his upbringing leaving him no choice. The hunter has made his decision; he’s going to find the location of those coordinates and do the job his Dad has given him. He knows what he’s doing, he’s just hoping Sam does too, because if something happens to his little brother, Dean knows he will never be able to forgive himself.

Well, shit. The boys have gone separate ways. Who do you think will find what he’s looking for?

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part four here

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