#they were detective partners back when they worked for the police so they bounce off of each other quite well

[silverselfshippingchaos]

mako being relentlessly teased for his crush on the bartender lady is sooo funny

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter two || the proxies

tw: mentions of murder, brief descriptions of gore

a/n: i’ve gotten a lot of love for this series and i just wanted to say thank you!! as a tribute of my appreciation i present a question: would you guys prefer this story on another platform ADDITIONAL to tumblr? i’ve gotten a few ask. i’m not familiar with ao3 but id like to learn if yall want it :)<3

<— chapter one

You had Toby absolutely mesmerized.

He swallowed nervously as he sat beside you in the diner’s booth. Brian had specifically requested the booth farthest away from everyone else. He sought out privacy, even when you curiously arched an eyebrow when he informed the waitress of his request.

Toby couldn’t help but admire your figure, your curves begging to be acknowledged in that slimming white dress of yours. The sight borderline made his mouth water. Toby shifted uncomfortably in his seat, refraining from anxiously chewing on the inside of his mouth. This would be the first time in years he would be eating in public. Usually he was never concerned with his appearance. That was until he met you.

Now he was slouched in a booth at a diner, a large bandage tightly secured to the decaying side of his face. You were kind enough to not stare, Toby only having noticed your eyes flickering to it once. You hadn’t question his ghoul gray skin or bandage. You didn’t stare at him like he was a freak. You just carried on the conversation like he was a normal person like Tim and Brian. He glanced over at Tim and Brian, his leg bouncing up and down under the table.

The four of you had been served glasses of water, the waitress apologizing and ushering to a different table. You began to unwrap a straw, before putting it into your glass.

“So, what do you guys do for work?”

The question almost made Brian spit out his drink. Tim elbowed his partner. “We’re private consultants,” He replied casually. You sipped your water, grabbing the lemon off of the rim. “Private consultants for what?” You asked, squeezing the juice into your water. Toby watched Brian and Tim carefully, both of them tongue tied. “K-kind of like detective-es. Just without the license,” Toby answered. He hoped you hadn’t noticed how shaky his hand was as he grabbed his glass. He didn’t bother with a straw, carelessly gulping down the water.

“Detectives? Thats nice. Hired by a private client I assume? One that’s behind the scenes,” You suggest. Toby exchanged looks with Tim, giving him a slight nod to suggest they go along with your explanation. “Yeah victims families sometimes aren’t satisfied with the police’s answer for disappearances or murders. They hire people like us to do some of our own investigating,” Tim replied. He hadn’t touched his water. The waitress returned, a small notebook in hand.

“What will you all have to drink?”

Tim gestured for you to go first.

“I’ll have a coke, thank you.”

You looked over at Toby, whose leg was bouncing under the table at a million miles per hour.

“Dr Pepper i-if you have it.”

The waitress gave a confirming nod, looking over at Brian.

“I’ll just stick with water.”

She nodded, her gaze landing on Tim.

“I’ll just have black coffee, thanks.”

Once she left, you were eager to resume the conversation. “Must be exciting work, traveling all of the time. I assume it’s all paid right? Like traveling fees and food,” You say. Toby couldn’t help but feel nervous around you, the brunette forcing himself to join the conversation. “Y-yeah it’s p-pretty nice,” He replied. He felt his neck begin to twitch, Brian’s eyes shooting daggers at him across the table. “You guys should meet my best friend Nova. She just became the lead detective around here,” You suggested. Tim exchanged glances with Brian. Toby clutched his cup, practically reading their thoughts.

They finally had justification for keeping you around.

The waitress came back, setting the drinks on the table. She clicked her pen as she brought out her notepad from the apron, the sound making Toby’s left arm twitch. “What will you have?” She asked you. You glanced at the menu, clearing your throat. Oddly enough it felt weird having all three of their eyes on you, watching you intently. “I’ll have the barbecue burger with fries, thanks,” You tell her. She took the menu from your hands, looking over at Toby. “I’ll have the same but with two burgers instead of one,” Toby said, giving her a small smile. The waitresses eyebrows raised, but she scribbled it onto her notepad without comment.

Her eyes landed on Brian, who hadn’t glanced at the menu. “I’ll take a veggie burger with no tomato, thank you,” He said simply, handing the waitress the menu. She turned to Tim, who was quick to dismiss her. “Just coffee for me,” He told her. Your eyebrows furrowed as the waitress walked away. You wanted to questions Tim’s denial of food, Toby quick to cut you off. It was far too risky to have you aware of his crippling insomnia. “So what d-do you do for wor-rk?” He asked you. You grinned shyly, hoping the heat that was dashing across your cheeks wasn’t visible. It was.

“It’s a bit silly but I want to be an actress. I’ve always dreamed of being up on the big screen,” You admitted, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Tim sipped his coffee, listening intently. “For now though I work at Olive Garden. Just until I get my big break,” You finished. Toby stared at you in awe. He thought you deserved to be in every movie ever. Including the x rated ones. “You’ll be in Hollywood in no tim-me,” Toby told you, flashing you a big smile. His words provided you relief, Brian’s judgment written across his face. You could tell he didn’t want to be there. You returned Toby’s smile before turning back to Tim.

You had said something, Toby’s sight able to see your lips moving. But his hearing went dull, the diners lights flickering. He set his cup down on the table, trying to count his breathes. One. Two. Inhale. Exhale. This wasn’t real, right? It couldn’t be real. The Operator wouldn’t sought them out here, in such a public place. Right? His gaze landed past Brian, past the heads of the few other people left in the diner. Clear as day in the window, Toby saw a face. Or better said, a mask. He blinked and his breath became shallow as he took in the observers appearance.

Mangled jet black hair, now grown out past her shoulders. A snow white mask with black eyes stared back at Toby through the window, her eyes ominously hidden. Toby would recognize the faded white walmart jacket from anywhere.

What the fuck was Kate doing here?

Toby’s attention came back to the table as the waitress arrived, setting their food in front of them. He looked back at the window, Kate now gone. “You good Tob?” You asked. The brunette turned to look at you, silently shocked you cared. He nodded, giving you a weak smile. “F-fine just thought I saw something,” He replied. Toby shot Brian and Tim a look, one both of them were oblivious to. Did they not see the flickering lights? Brian was too invested in his food, while Tim’s attention was completely focused on you. Toby quietly picked up his burger, taking a bite. Man, you had good taste.

Toby was aware he was schizophrenic. He knew that when his mind went a little too into overdrive he’d see things that weren’t there. Over the years he had grown accustomed to it, making significant progress from his first year with the Operator. Sometimes he’d see his parents or Lyra. If he was in a bad episode he’d even be able to convince himself he was touching Lyra. Like she was really there. He hadn’t seen Lyra or his parents in years. Nor had he seen Kate in at least a year.

Kate the Chaser was a fellow proxy, who spent most of her missions alone. She was quiet and mysterious, never saying too much. As you continued to talk to Tim and Brian, Toby’s mind began to wander. Why was she here? He didn’t show any other signs of being in an episode. The colors in the diner were the same, no strange voices were whispering in his ears. Toby took another bite of his burger, his mind continuing to rack itself for an answer. Kate only came around for one of two reasons. 1. She was doing a favor for one of the Operators brothers or 2. She was there to check on the status of a mission. If it was option two, the three of them were fucked.

“What do you think Toby?” You asked. Your sweet voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry what?” He asked meekly. You pointed at his burger. “About the burger? It’s my favorite. They always have apple bacon,” You say. You were so peacefully oblivious, Toby’s scrambled mind feeling like it was glitching. “Very good, love b-barbecue,” He answered. He gave you a weak smile, dipping a fry into some ketchup. “So what’s your family like? They live out here as well?” Brian asked. Toby couldn’t help but feel unsettled, like they were being watched. Out of the three of them Toby was the least prone to excessive paranoia, but right now he felt like it was all too real.

“No I moved away from home. Originally I wanted to go to New York but I ended up here along the way. It’s the closest I can afford to the big city. Besides it’s not too far away,” You say, shrugging. Considering they were in Ohio, Toby concluded this to not be true. However you seemed to be trying to play off your own insecurities and Toby was determined to play along. “Where are you guys from?” You asked, sipping your coke. The lights in the diner flickered again. Toby’s eyes narrowed. “Alabama, nothing special,” Tim answered, earning a kick from Brian under the table. You took another bit of your burger, the sound of faint static flooding your eardrums. Your new friends didn’t seem to hear it, the three of them unnerved.

You decided to try to ignore it, a slight pounding sensation ensuing in your temple. You had no idea the other three heard it as well, four hundred times worse. Toby watched Tim’s head begin to pound, his adam’s apple swallowing as he tried to endure the headache. His gaze flickered over to Brian, his head twitching to the left. “Oh shit,” Toby muttered, dropping his fry. He grabbed the nearby steak knife, watching as Masky and Hoodie nonchalantly began to front. You looked over at Toby, who was shaking as he clutched the black handle of the knife. He was ready to defend your life with his own and a shitty steak knife.

“Tob? You alright?” You asked, eyes widening at the sight of the knife. Toby watched Masky and Hoodie carefully, waiting for them to attack. It was getting late, the four of them the only ones left in the diner. It wouldn’t be hard to kill you and the only waitress left. But you were so kind. So pleasant to be around. Plus, you smelled good. Masky frowned at the sight of you. If he could’ve had it his way he would’ve followed you home, disposing your body in a rancid dumpster. But he knew his place, the Operators request of his presence coming first. Masky dug in his pocket, Toby’s gaze darkening. He placed a wad of cash on the table, sliding out of the booth. “We have something we have to take care of. Why don’t you walk her home Toby?” Masky suggested blandly. Hoodie followed suit, hands dug in his jeans as he trailed after Masky. Hoodie’s lips curled into a cocky smirk, shamelessly checking you out. The duo left the diner quickly, leaving you and Toby dumbfounded.

“Are they bipolar or something?” You asked. Toby released the knife, trying to ignore your bewildered expression. A flash of white ran across the window, Kate’s presence confirmed. “S-something like that-t. Let’s get you home,” Toby suggested nervously. He ushered you out of the diner, anxiously looking around. He couldn’t spot Masky or Hoodie anywhere, nor Kate or the Operator. He sighed in relief, the cold night wind brutal. “I live down this way,” You say, pointing to down town. You wanted to question Tim and Brian’s odd behavior, but ultimately decided against it. Toby walked beside you, the orange street lights illuminating the path. He tried to be quiet, trying to uncover what they did wrong in his mind.

The cold didn’t bother him, but his eyes flickered over to you. You were a shivering mess, goosebumps littering your smooth skin. “H-here. Might n-not smell the best,” He said quickly. He slid off his signature hoodie, handing it to you. “But you’ll be cold,” You pointed out. Toby shook his head. “I don’t get cold-d. Here,” He insisted. Hesitantly you accepted Toby’s hoodie, sliding it on. It smelled like dirt, cologne, and a metallic scent you couldn’t place. “Thank you Toby,” You say, giving him a grin. Toby thought back to the dismemberment of the body. He followed the usual routine. Depending on the victim there were two possible routines.

One being what they called mystery. Toby would extract the teeth, slicing fingerprints and toes off of the victim. Next he’d scoop out the eyes, before slicing out the tongue. After that he’d cut off the head. He’d distribute the fingertips, toes, teeth, eyes, and head to Masky and Hoodie. The three would divide them up evenly, before going their own ways for the night to discard of the evidence. Toby had an all too familiar lake he preferred to dispose his in. The alligators there were practically his friends by now.

The other method, one Toby named chop chop. Or chop for short. His axe skills were utilized, each leg and arm, and of course the head, cut apart limb from limb. This method was recommended when the victim had been attacked from the front. The more raw mushy organs on display, the more likely the wolves would get to the body before a human did. As for the body parts, the proxies had been using barrels full of acid. It was a grueling process, but they were able to bury them in the forest without a long drive to discard of them.

For detective Winston, they had opted to use route two. Chop was quicker. Of course they used chop, wanting to see you as quickly as possible. That’s when it finally hit Toby: Hoodie had slashed his throat. His chest cavity and organs were intact. He was a detective in the force for years. He had a chest tattoo. Thats why the Operator sent Kate. The body had been discovered and identified.

“I know this isn’t the best part of town but it’s all I can afford right now,” You say. Toby snapped out of his thoughts, turning his attention back to you. You had taken his silent pondering as judgment. “I’ve slept in trees before, i’m sure y-your apartment is l-lovel-ly,” Toby told you. You subtly began to walk closer to him, purple neon signs illuminating the rest of the pathway. “It’s not normal I know but i’ve always wanted a tattoo from that shop,” You told him, pointing at ‘Ray’s tattoos’. Toby examined the shop, his eyes scanning over the multiple people getting tatted. He made eye contact with what appeared to be a biker, his gaze returning to you.

“H-how about I go w-with you sometime? I d-don’t have one,” He admitted. You gave him a sheepish smile. “I have one but it’s kinda embarrassing,” You confessed. Toby chuckled, following you into your apartment building. “C-can’t be that bad,” Toby replied. He trailed behind you as you entered the elevator, clicking the button to the fourth floor. “Promise you won’t tell Tim and Brian?” You asked. Toby nodded, preparing himself to see whatever exposure of skin you were going to provide him. Instead you leaned close to him, whispering into his ear, “I have a tramp stamp.”

Toby felt a shiver of ecstasy run down his spine, soaking in the sensation of your hot breath. “O-oh wow,” He blushed. You giggled as the elevator doors opened, walking to your apartment. You stood in front of door 401, turning to Toby. “I really do like you guys you know. Despite their social awkwardness, it’s nice seeing some new faces around here,” You say. Toby could hardly get enough of your praise, his imagination now playing with the idea of your tramp stamp. “T-thank you. We like-e you too,” He said. You gave him a small smile. “I don’t think Brian likes me,” You told him honestly. Toby pretended to play dumb. “Pfft, B-Brian’s just a l-loner. He didn’t like m-me either at first,” He replied. Which, was technically true.

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes flickering to your apartment door. You grabbed your keys, unlocking it. You were about to invite Toby in, the invitation on your lips. Just as you opened your mouth, Nova appeared in front of you. You jumped in surprise. “Nova? Holy shit what are you doing here?” You questioned. You had given Nova your key ages ago for emergencies. There she stood in her pajamas, a file in hand. Toby frowned at the sight of Nova. Why was she there? He wanted time alone with you. Why couldn’t he have you to himself for the night? “I’m sorry I know you were on your date but something new just happened in my case!” She said excitedly. Date? The word date made Toby’s heart flutter. His annoyance of Nova’s presence had temporarily subsided. Her chocolate orbs flickered over to Toby.

“Who’s this?”

You awkwardly turned to Toby. “Oh shit sorry, uh, Toby this is Nova, Nova this is Toby,” You say, introducing the two. Nova stuck out her hand, an apple watch secured on her wrist. “So you’re the hitchhiker,” She mused. Toby could sense her protectiveness of you. “And you’re the detective,” He replied, shaking her hand. The two of them purposefully gave the other a tight squeeze before Nova pulled away. “Alrighty then. Well i’d like to discuss this case with you before dawn,” Nova said, gesturing to the file.

“Of course of course,” You say awkwardly. You turned to Toby. “Here let me give you back your hoodie,” You said. Your fingers began to grab at the hem, Toby’s larger hand stopping you. You hadn’t realized bandages covered a majority of his hands until then. “Keep i-it. I’ll come get it from you late-er,” He told you. You could feel heat dash across your cheeks from his touch. You stood on your tippy toes, planting a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you Toby. I’ll see you soon?”

Toby nodded affirmatively, wishing you a goodnight.

He shoved his hands in his jeans as he walked down the hallway, grinning to himself. You’d be seeing him a lot sooner than you thought.

—> next chapter

[itstheghostofmypast]

Loyalties

Kim HongJoong x (f) Detective Reader

Summary: He held her itty bitty heart in his bloody palm and she knew that, but did she love him enough to let him win his little game everytime? Did he love her enough to risk her safety?

Genre: Hurt/Comfort Fluff

Warnings: Joong's a perv (Idk okay), mention of gunshots, strong language.

Word Count: 2.5K

Read Time: 12 min

Rating: nc-17

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

She hated him, no she despised him, no she loathed that disgusting, horrid, weasel of a man. She despised his cheap ass fur coat, his unnecessary bling and those pants! Her blood would boil at the mere name of that demonic, immature moron, she despised every little detail about him; his angular face, his sharp eyes that would glimmer like the stars swirling with pure mischief, his light chuckle that would ring in her ears like the voice of an angel, oh and she really, really, abhorred the way he'd look at her, with the warmth of pure love - NO!

Mentally slapping herself she cleared her throat, rehearsing the first stanza of hatred that ran hot in her veins for the infamous leader of MATZ. Technically it was just two men, boys who were usually called in for petty crimes turned into men who were now challenging the system- a knock-off of any vigilante out there. Batman, Daredevil, even the Punisher, see these men had class and style- MATZ, well, they had style...but perhaps the fact that explaining how her once high school friends are now notorious criminals or wannabe Robinhood would be a bit difficult. Perhaps this little fact only added to her current presiding problem, one she had mentioned to her lover, explicitly mentioning her concerns; for the safety of his life and her professional career. Once again, that bastard let his deflated ego in the way, her words bouncing off it without ever reaching his useless, dysfunctional brain.

So, here she stood, in front of her captain, watching him go on and on about the need for order and justice, the need for law and police work, and more importantly the need for loyalty. Loyalty, a trait that was of importance, though her's was being questioned.

"Where do your loyalties lie detective?"

"With the force, Sir" With a salute she looked dead ahead, not at him, no, through him, trying to figure out the answer to this very question. Where did her loyalties lie?

"Then how is it, you've been leading the task force to capture MATZ for three years and each time you are close they miraculously slip away!" his large, meaty hands slammed on the table, her partner beside her flinching, though not a jerk left her bones. Instead, her eyes flickered to his face, instantly scanning his form, this man looked like anything but eh definition of justice, safety and security - if anything, he looked more like a criminal than that moron of hers.

"I assure you, Sergeant, my loyalties lie where my heart has ever since I was a little girl. My friendship with Joong- " pausing she cleared her throat, ignoring the way he raised a brow at he before glancing at her partner as if hinting at something "MATZ, both Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa ended as soon as they started this life of crime."

"I don't trust you an ounce detective, not one bit." slumping back in his seat he stared up at her, "But the Captain trusts ya for some reason, believes you a good egg- I just think you're a cracked egg, too far gone for anything else- so I'll tell you this, I'm on to ya, I'll be watching you, listening to you, from the moment you step into his precinct ill be watching your every move."

.

"Well, that was something." Jongho muttered, closing the door behind him, "Do you...want to grab a bite or something?"

"I'm good." giving him a small smile she sat back at her desk, sifting through the papers, not a word written processing in her already occupied mind. The traffic of thoughts only stopped when a hand rested on hers, "I may be younger than you, but we're partners, and my mentor has always told to me trust my partner. "

His soft words, followed by his cute smile had her sigh in defeat, sitting back down and nodding, "Some mentor you have, huh?"

"She's the best of the best." Puffing up his chest with pride he placed his hands on her desk, "Now, what can I do, to make my mentor feel better."

"Nothing, really Jong, I- " her words caught up as she noticed something. Her eyes caught the way her system was on, the screen lit up, the mouse icon moving on its own, she was being - shit. Instantly reaching for the cable, she pulled the plug on the CPU.

"Um...did you see what I just saw?"

"Jongho, get Yunho and tell him to track whatever the hell that was."

"Yes, Ma'am."

.

The door slammed shut, the darkness just adding to her anger, of course, he wouldn't turn on the lights, no lamp or bulb, choosing to sit on the small balcony - maybe she should just push him off, the idea extremely tempting at this point.

Placing her badge and gun on the table she made her way to the small balcony at the other end of the living room, making sure to turn on a lamp on the way out. Sliding the door open she sighed, the cool breeze prickling her warm skin, a shiver running down her spine as she stepped out completely, barely missing the small table as she made her way to the seat her boyfriend was currently sprawled on, limbs extending like the roots of the potted plants behind him. His head lay against the cushioned headrest, turning his head to face her, an easy smile making its way to his face, the warm glow of the fairy lights from the wall beside him only adding onto his beautiful face, making him appear oh so soft and lovable.

"Hey babe." his words barely above a whisper.

"Joong~" she sang, slowly getting on top of him, making herself comfortable until she was fully straddling him, his hands automatically finding their place on her back, holding onto her tight, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, "Did you miss me?"

"You bet your pretty ass, I did," he mumbled, eying the way she moved closer, her chest pressed against his, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his head.

"Aw~ baby" she pouted before gripping onto the ends of his hair and tugging hard, his head tilting back as a whimper escaped him, damn, his girl was in the mood- or so he thought.

"I didn't you f*cker." her grip tightened, tilting his head further back with another tug, his own fingers digging into her sides, trying to keep some form of control.

"Why~" whining with his eyes closed, he treasured the burning sensation, his princess knew how to play and he liked it so very much.

"Did you get Youngie to tap into my system? Do you want me to get fired? Or do you want me to shoot you in the d*ck?"

"Aw baby~ it's just work." his eyes finally snapped open, standing up without warning as a high-pitched squeak left her lips, arms instantly locking around his neck, much like her legs around his waist, staring up at him wide-eyed.

A chuckle echoed in the dark of the night as his hands finally gripped her close, "Don't worry doll, I'd never let ya fall." Walking them into the apartment he looked down at her frowning, "Did someone piss off my princess ?"

"Joong, " sighing she glanced away, letting him carry her around like she weighed nothing, like she was a mere muse he was addicted to, clinging onto him, onto his fur coat- wait God, he was wearing the orange one, she hated it.

"Yes, love?" slowly setting her down on the bed he shrugged off his jacket, going to the cupboard to hang it, his precious baby wasn't cheap!

"I can only protect you if you trust me, but if you hack into my system or pull shit like that and they fire me, who knows what- I- I just can't lose you" her words clogging up in her throat, the burning sensation all too evident behind her eyes, " what I mean is" sighing she paused to rephrase, his casual attitude just adding to the frustration as he walked towards her, swaying like a cat, stopping right in front of her sitting form, "Hongjoong, I'm serious, with me, it is just a game of cat and mouse but if I get replaced, if its someone else, it'll be serious and they might even-"

"Shhh..." placing a finger on her lips he hushed her, his hand caressing her cheek, admiring how she nuzzled into his palm, "You know love, " he whispered leaning closer till their noses touched, "I am a very dangerous man, I am more than just your lover."

"But-"

"I'll lay off your system," brushing his lips against hers, "Detective." Pulling back he smiled down at her, admiring how she looked up at him with teary eyes filled with nothing but love and worry, letting his intrusive thoughts win and squishing her cheeks with one hand, laughing at her whining in protest.

His other hand pulled out something from his back, showing her the shiny metal toy of his, "If it were someone else, other than you, that f*cker would already be dead, you're the only reason why I haven't torn this system down to shreds." with one last kiss to the forehead, her lovable idiot of a man once again promised to stay out of her way, at least for a while.

.

"This is team two, The ground floor is clear."

He did it again, he must've done it again, no way in hell did he not do it.

"Team three reporting from floor 1, all clear."

"Boss" Jongho mumbled beside her, turning off his comm, "Did you tell him?"

Sighing she adjusted her bulletproof west as the two walked into the basement, "Yes, I told that bastard, my system wasn't tapped, I double-checked." Of course, her junior knew about her little relationship, she did teach him that a mentor and mentee should have no secrets, even ones like these. It didn't take him long to accept it either, saying something along the lines of, "Is he really that bad if he's fighting against a system that has failed us?"

"Because Yunho just texted me saying your phone was tapped instead. "

"I hate him."

"Team two reporting, roof's all clear boss."

"This doesn't look good," he mumbled, trailing hot on her heels as the two entered the basement, a parking lot with two entrances. They were going to split up, "We can't go empty-handed, we need something at least."

"I know. Let's split up, and be on your guard."

With that the two parted ways, her footsteps echoing across the empty parking lot, the scraping of her boots muffling the jingle of her gun, one that was aimed and ready to shoot. A low chuckle caught her ear.

"STOP RIGHT THERE." She yelled, turning to aim at the fool, his smirk pissing her off even more, "Don't.Move."

"Hey doll." the deep voice from beside her alerting her senses, "You should go check up on your partner, baby bear's knocked out like Goldilocks." Seonghwa chuckled, making his way to stand next to Hongjoong who had his hands up for a show, the smug look never leaving his face.

"Aw, come on detective, just let us go and we can call it a night."

A loud bang, followed by a series of bangs, resonated across the entire parking lot.

"ALL UNITS TO THE BASEMENT, NOW!"

.

"You okay?" she asked, pressing the icepack against the bump on his head, "Told you to wear the helmet."

"Are YOU okay?" he asked, others around them looking at their head's bulletproof jacket, staring at the four shots right across it. Though that's not what he meant, he was definitely asking about something else.

"Yeah, great actually." Patting her head she turned around when someone called her name, eying the office who handed her a phone, "It's the sergeant, detective." rolling her eyes she pressed it against her ear, "Hello?"

"Detective. I heard about the encounter but didn't think you had it in ya to shoot him. Glad the bulletproof vest worked though, you're a good agent, we can't risk losing. I take it back, you have my trust and support. Get home safe."

.

Slamming the door shut she sighed in relief, kicking off her shoes she made her way into the living room, oh? The lights were on, what a pleasant surprise, wonder what happened?

"Hey honey how was work?" she smirked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as she watched her shirtless boyfriend glare back at her, both ignoring the other man in the room who was tending to the gunshot wound.

Raising a brow, he scoffed, "Oh great love I got shot today by a bitch-"

"I'm still holding my gun Joong, don't test me"

Slamming his hand on his thigh he yelled "YOU SHOT ME- you SHOT ME IN THE SHOULDER!" hissing in pain as Seonghwa clicked his tongue, mumbling a stay still as he patched up the hole. This was all he could do before Yeosang could come over and have a proper look at it.

"YOU TAPPED MY PHONE"

"WELL YOUR SERGEANT WAS GETTING TOO COZY WITH YA- man's a perv, I know it" he spat back, shoving Seonghwa out of the way with his free hand, earning a curse in return.

"HONGJOONG, HE WAS DOUBTING MY LOYALTIES!" she explained and pointed at herself, "AND YOU SHOT ME TOO!"

A dramatic gasp echoed across the room followed by a hand placed on his chest - his heart, mind you-, causing Seonghwa to roll his eyes, here we go again, he should've never befriended these two in high school. Mumbling to himself about their idiocy he walked out to the balcony, deciding to smoke instead of listening to these idiots.

"First of all, YOU shot ME first and" he yelled and turned to point at the balcony, "That motherf*cker shot you, not me! I agree four times was a bit excessive but hey you were the one who kept going on and on about us being too soft on ya." Turning to her with raised brows, "And loyalties? Babe, come on, I mean, you and I- like we like- I've been in you multiple times, day or night and-"

"CAN YOU NOT!" she screamed, gesturing at the open door of the balcony.

'I don't care, pretend I'm not here, that's what I'm pretending too!' was all they could hear from the balcony, causing her face to resemble a tomato, though her shameless boyfriend was as nonchalant as ever, continuing his little speech, half naked in the living room.

"All I'm saying is, I don't question your loyalties because I know you've got the hots for me like I completely get it, I'd wanna sleep with me too, but your creep of a boss knows his soggy sausage aint worth your time and-"

"I should've aimed for your d*ck"

"Would you really though? Cause I know you loyal to my d-"

"And this conversation is over." with that she stomped away, speed walking when she heard the loud cackles of Seonghwa followed by the laughter of her own idiot of a man. No, boys, they were still the same shameless teenage boys, she accidentally had the unfortunate fate of meeting in school, when she was nothing but a victim of loneliness, turning her grey dull days into chaotic, colourful ones pulled out of the ass of the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.

[pyropsychiccollector]

Ace Attorney: IF (... Part 8)

February rolls around. Everything's relatively quiet, with no one getting any game-changing cases like the December one. Not the attorneys, not the police, not the prosecutors…

Until one day, Ema approaches the Fey and Co. Law Offices. Naturally, Mia remembers her. She's Lana's sister… And reminds her so much of Maya that she's a little overwhelmed. But Mia keeps composed and hears Ema out when she says that she needs help, Diego curiously tuning in as well. But before Ema can get too far in explaining the case, Lana barges in and accosts her sister, coming across rather harsh and weary. Way stressed out. Ema argues back, claiming they should just ask Mia for help. That's who Lana always said to go to, and she doesn't understand why Lana is so aggro.

… Lana understands her sister's intent, but that doesn't change the fact this case is far more delicate and complicated than Ema can possibly know. They can't just… disseminate information, let alone seek out representation when it isn't their decision to make. Of course Mia doesn't let it die here; she can tell Lana isn't behaving like her usual rational self. It has her worried for her longtime friend.

Lana crumples on one of the couches and reluctantly opens up. Last week, a series of bizarre murders began popping up, and investigations were very sluggish because they couldn't pick up any definitive clues pointing to any single culprit. No fingerprints, no unexplained bloodstains, no hairs or discarded items near the bodies… So far, three people have lost their lives. And no, they don't even have proof this is the same killer for all three; it's just a theory based off the lack of evidence…

But last night, a suspect was finally brought in. He was at the scene of the third victim, lingering long before the whole department was notified. A witness phoned him in, suspecting him of the deed because he was up to his elbows in blood as he hovered over the victim, on his knees. … It was Damon Gant. The Chief of Police was suspected of these possibly connected murders. Understandably, the department was in an uproar, and the prosecutor's office seemed full of people all too eager to get "payback" because of the case in December… Chief Byrne was in a rather delicate position of delegating who should prosecute this sticky affair. Franziska was out of the country, and he wasn't so sure he should assign Wright because of Calisto working under Tyrell… Not that the grizzled detective was out for blood, but he did harbor doubts about Gant's true nature. And that could lead to a biased investigation. The police were already sending out Jake Marshall and Angel Starr as initial investigators, and Detective Goodman was assigned to the two murders from last week so there was a chance he'd get involved as well. Byrne was wavering between assigning Lana and Neil Marshall, and he didn't particularly like either option for obvious reasons. Lana because she was partners with Gant before transferring, and Neil because his brother was currently one of the detectives in charge. Byrne couldn't prosecute because that'd drive a wedge between the police and prosecutors… Not that they weren't already on brittle terms.

The whole mess was a nightmare, and Damon hadn't requested for an attorney yet. He seemed to be waiting to see how the investigation unfolded. Which…aggravated Lana. He cooperated with questioning thus far, but Damon always gave off this air like he knew more than he was letting on… He would bounce between his grandfatherly routine and his ace detective routine like it was just two sides of the same coin. He CLAIMED to be innocent, that he was just the first on the scene… And yet he didn't call for backup or anything. No one even knew he'd stepped out of his office. Then again, nights were usually more lax anyway in terms of the number of people around the office. It was so vexing.

Mia promises to give a good ol' college try, seeing how bothered her friend is with this sticky case. First Gant has to agree to representation, and that could go sourly if he's as reticent as Lana implies. Still, there's no harm in TRYING…

Damon easily enough accepts his visitors, though he gives the impression this arrest is no big deal. Damon seems to know Lana was behind Mia's arrival, and says the ol' girl should relax and take some time off with some swimming. (人◕ω◕) It's vexing to see a defendant so at peace with his circumstances. Damon isn't even a little bit peeved at his subordinates or trying to assert his innocence. Damon simply says there's no point in getting worked up; letting 'em see you sweat will only fuel the fires of suspicion even more. This isn't his first rodeo, and he's confident the investigation will inevitably reach the truth. So why should he panic or vent? (人◕ω◕)

Damon isn't that fussed about who his attorney winds up being. It's nice that Mia came out all this way for a lump of coal like him, but the Chief isn't in any rush, and there's probably worthier clients than him just waiting to pound down Mia's door. If Mia's so fussed, he can give her a letter of request to investigate the scene. Doesn't mean he accepts her defense, or that he'll tell her anything worthy of note just yet. But Damon does think it's sweet to see one of Lana's friends is such a go-getter. (人◕ω◕) He'll give Mia 'til the end of the day (or visiting hours rather) to have one last chat. He leaves it up to her to decide if his case is worth her attention.

Mia can see why her friend is so stressed. With a defendant like Gant, who needs prosecutors? (人◕ω◕) Is it his position as Chief that allows him to be so easygoing? Is it the lack of evidence they've been suffering that makes him think they won't be able to pronounce him Guilty? Whatever the case, he's brash, and all too smug. Mia doesn't understand why Lana respects this guy so much. (人◕ω◕)

Regardless, while Diego stays behind to watch the office, Mia heads out to the most recent crime scene with Ema and Lana... Or rather, the site where the body was discovered. Because in spite of the bloodstains around the body, investigators have their doubts about this being where the victim died. For one, it was behind a restaurant next to a dumpster area; the victim was never known to travel to this part of town, living farther north. Restaurant regulars have never seen the man before, at least as far as they've dug up so far.

There are other reasons, but sadly none that Lana are privy to. She's too close to Damon to be trusted with case information. And there's some really motivated investigators who have been suspicious of Gant for a while. Hence, Jake turns Lana away at the scene, and only through her recommendation is Mia (and Ema) allowed in. With his brother possibly on this case, Jake is determined to do this by the book and be ever watchful of the attorney.

... That said, Jake's easy to soften up because of two factors: One, his brother's alive and he's still a detective so he's not as lazy or bitter. Two, the fact that Mia is best friends with Lana means Jake puts a lot of stock in her as well. After all, he's still dating Lana. Mia and Jake have heard a lot about each other through Lana, they simply haven't had much time to properly be introduced. Conflicting schedules and all that. They have met before... Just don't know each other that well.

With Ema's forensic tools (luminol, fingerprinting powder, etc.), they determine the bloodstains around the body are rather one-sided (no stains were wiped or washed away). And Jake confirms the police have determined this as well; it's their theory these stains here are just from Gant kneeling down and...poking around the victim's body. For reasons he will not disclose. It's not a good look for him, but Mia's adamant that it's not... a noose around his neck. Not yet. Jake admires Mia for keeping it together under pressure, but he's pretty convinced of Gant's guilt. The old man's been up to something for a while, and the two of them aren't super fond of one another. Always quick to criticize one another... That's just how Jake's felt. And Angel is about the same; admired Lana and Damon as a pair of sleuthing legends, but the old man's been giving off weird vibes for the past couple years.

The investigation and subsequent trial days are... slow. They only have three days under the current system, so there's a lot of pressure to find anything that strongly implicates Gant... Double jeopardy and all that. Hence Chief Byrne's executive decision to have Phoenix and Calisto help on the investigation end of things, while Neil handles the courtroom. This turns out for the best as two more victims are found throughout those days... A total of five victims, and they can't even say the two latest discoveries were killed while Damon was in custody. The autopsies are tricky due to the people being reported as missing months ago... They seem fresh, but there's a chance they were kept in a refrigerated area.

Three days, a lot of pressure and a lot of tension... A number of witnesses are called in, investigators are questioned at length, Damon keeps getting pressed for his side of the story... Eventually, Mia homes in on Joe Darke. Not because he particularly stood out in his witness accounts, but because he didn't stand out... There was this mysterious air about him, how calm and collected he was on the stand despite the scenes he purportedly bore witness to and despite being questioned at length. Oh, he seemed caught off-guard with some of the inquiries, but it was always more of a...very casual surprise. Like if someone told you it was raining, and you looked out the window to check before returning to what you were doing. That sort of nonchalance.

Joe never went hard on Damon with his testimonies. That was why it took until the last day of the trial for Mia to home in on him. Joe's alibi for the murders was never ironclad, and he did get jumpy when they talked about the times of death being thrown off... The switchblade knife he carried with him had its tip broken off, and he had no ready answer for where it went.

... Damon does. At long last, he reveals just what he was up to with that third victim he found. The reason he inspected the body himself, without letting forensics take care of it... was that he wanted to ensure there was no foul play with the investigation. The M.O. with these murders is that not a single clue is left behind, ever - this got Damon thinking it might be an inside job, but overall he couldn't be too sure. But when he found the knife tip in the body that he very luckily came across... Damon knew he had something to blow the case wide open.

All he needed to do was lure out the perp by becoming a suspect. Joe Darke had never come forward until this trial, yet he was so intimately aware with some of the details... A broken switchblade knife was just what Damon needed to compare the knife tip with. Sure, he'll take the rap for concealing evidence, but it's a pittance compared to what Darke will receive if the tip matches the blade, and if the weapon matches with the victim's wound.

This is enough to send Joe into wild hysterics and try assaulting the defendant... But Neil steps in and restrains Joe before he can do any real harm. Once subdued and in police custody, all they have to do is wait and hear back from the lab about the evidence that Damon produced. To everyone's relief, it all checks out. It's not phony, there's little room for doubt that Joe's knife was the murder weapon for that victim... And what's more, Damon never knew the locations they found the fourth and fifth bodies in. He knew nothing about them. But Joe seemed to, and that's a lead to follow up on. With nothing incriminating Damon in any of these five serial killings, they have no choice but to declare him innocent as the day draws to a close. Joe Darke will be seized as a new suspect.

It's not, precisely, the happiest victory. Damon did perform a dirty trick to lure the culprit in... And there are those in the department who still don't trust him completely. But the fact remains, Damon didn't kill anyone, and he wasn't twisting people to do his bidding... Damon allowed them to reach this verdict on their own merits. All he did was produce the knife tip that he...preserved.

In the end, Damon liked what he saw from this new generation of lawyers and investigators. He never begrudged them suspecting him - after all, he couldn't be sure of who to trust either. It bothered him the murders were so meticulously handled... He really just wanted this culprit caught. The law seemed so... powerless. Against one anonymous man.

But in this trial, Damon saw hope. Lawyers, prosecutors, and police were working hand-in-hand. Sure, they butted heads at times... But they held out for those three days. Never gave up no matter how bleak things got... It was nowhere near like Manny or Blaise pulling their "miracles" back in the day. This was legit, and Damon only wished he didn't complicate matters with his actions.

Damon would let the prosecutors be. See where Chief Byrne steered that ship. He'd ease up the the department's stances against attorneys, at least the ones who earned their trust... Couldn't share everything prior to trials, but they didn't have to stonewall people legitimately trying to prove others' innocence.

They were entering a new age of the law. (人◕ω◕) There wasn't a need for Damon to interfere. Let the kiddos stumble and learn their way.

No one gets fired or laid off. Lana and Neil can continue prosecuting, Jake, Angel, and Goodman can all still be detectives... Damon's just here in a grandfatherly capacity now (still the Chief of Police), being tough on 'em at times but overall wishing them the best with their respective careers. (人◕ω◕)

It's gonna be different with all these new colorful faces sprinkled into the mix... But overall, it'll be great for fleshing out Mia and all the usual cast. There is more than one attorney in Japan. ... More than one detective. ... More than one prosecutor. (人◕ω◕) This is what we call fun~... \(人◕ω◕)/

[spicy-picklez]

Hiya! Can I request a Miranda x reader? Reader is a new detective in the precinct and reader and Miranda get partnered up for a case. Reader seems quiet when she’s not working but she kind of gets serious, Sherlock-style when working and Miranda finds it attractive. Reader is quite oblivious and is confused because Miranda would look away from her, blushing when she’s voicing out her observations. It takes a fellow detective pointing out how smitten Miranda is with her for reader to notice and she confesses that she likes her too. Tnx!

Hey Anon!

Thank you so much for this request, it is going to have multiple parts because I got rather carried away and I still have so many more ideas for this. Hope you like it!

-Picklez

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Unconfessed Feelings

Includes:

Dead body, talk of murder, mentions of gang activity,

Characters:

Miranda Hilmarson x fem!detective!colleague!reader

Summary:

It's your first day at your new precinct and the partner you've been assigned is simply magnetic. Neither of you can stop your thoughts from wandering as the two of you try to solve the murder and potential kidnapping of 28 year old Sophie Brown.

Word Count:

3.8k

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“Alright everyone, settle down.” Detective Sergeant Adrian Parker stands behind his podium, his voice booming around the debriefing room as the chatter dies down. “Thank you, ok. Today is a great day for our precinct, we have a new detective joining us. Detective Y/L/N has the highest close rate for her cases out of her entire last precinct and I hope you all make her feel welcome.” At this, you step out from the corner of the room you’ve been hiding in, giving a small wave to the other detectives and constables.

One constable in particular caught your eye. Not only because of her tall stature but because of her eagerness, leaning forwards, placing her elbows on the table as she watches you with an excited expression. Her gorgeous blue eyes glowed with genuine curiosity as they peek out from underneath her short blonde hair. You were at the centre of her attention, it’s not often the precinct gets a new detective and certainly not one that captivated her interests so easily. Dressed in black pants and a black blazer, your light blue undershirt is tucked into the waistband of your belted pants. Her eyes can’t help but travel down your body, admiring the way your shirt curved over your breasts and outlined your figure.

Taking a seat, you lean your forearms on the edge of the table as Adrian gives out case assignments. “Y/L/N, there’s been a body found in the trunk of an abandoned car. I’m giving you control of the case, take Hilmarson with you.” You nod, watching as the constable from before sits up, excitement coursing through her veins. Adrian places the case file in front of you as he continues to hand out assignments. Flipping through the pages, your eyes are immediately drawn to the photo of the car. You couldn’t be sure until you saw it in person but if what you noticed was right, you knew who the car belonged to.

“Dismissed.” Adrian’s voice pulls you back to reality. Standing up, you’re met with the tall figure of Constable Hilmarson. Excitement twists her features into an eager grin. “Hi, I’m Miranda Hilmarson, I’m assigned to help you with your case.” You smile, she looks even more enticing up close. “Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you.”

The duration of the car ride to the crime scene was spent conversing with Miranda. While most of the conversation was the two of you bouncing theories about the case off of each other, you had also learned a lot about each other. Parking the car, the two of you step out, ducking under the yellow police tape as you make your way to the car. The boot was popped open, revealing a mangled body sitting in a pool of blood. The amount of flies and the horrible smell told you that the body had been there for a while. Taking a closer look, you can see foam filled blood trickling from the victim’s nose and mouth. “Foamy blood from the mouth and nose, no rigor mortis, incredibly dark livor mortis, I’d say our poor vic has been dead for about 4-5 days.” You say, taking in notes of the corpse’s appearance as Miranda watches you work with pure fascination.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, you examine the wounds marking the corpse’s skin. Multiple gashes covered her body but what you're interested in is under her hair. Lifting the strands of her black hair, clamped together with dry blood, you see a bullet wound just behind her ear, angled upwards. An overwhelming sense of dread fills your veins as you see it, only the most skilled of gunmen could get such a perfect shot. Bending down, your hand reaches under the bumper of the car. “What are you doing?” Curiosity is evident in Miranda’s voice as she watches you lie down on the ground, sliding yourself under the car. Taped to the inside of the bumper was what confirmed your hunch. Ripping off the black coin, you pull yourself back out from under the car, blood on your blazer from the liquid seeping through the bottom of the trunk.

“Serbian Mafia.” You say, holding up the black coin, engraved with their symbol. Dropping it into an evidence bag, you continue with your explanation. “I thought I recognised the car when I saw the photo. 2005 black Holden Monaro, equipped with a 5,030 cc Chevrolet sourced V8 engine. There were only 580 Monaros made in 2005, even less of them black so it’s hard to miss them. I worked on a previous case where the Serbian Mafia were involved, again, it involved a black 2005 Holden Monaro identical to this one.”

Miranda's attention to you is unwavering, feeling her cheeks flush with heat as she watches you work. Your attention to detail and willingness to involve her in your work only made her more attracted to you. Due to her appearance and bubbly personality, others had held her at arm's length, often lashing out at her when something went wrong. You, however, include Miranda in the case as an equal despite only knowing her for all of an hour. Realising she's been staring, she clears her throat, her hand rubbing the inside of her wrist to ground herself.

"Right so if it is a member, how do we get them to talk? Or even find them in the first place? I doubt they'd be willing to come down to the station." Miranda asks, trying to regain her composure. Sucking your lip into your mouth in thought, dread fills your veins knowing what your next plan of action is. "We go to their bar. They meet there every night and we'll try to see what we can find out. For now, we'll go see the victim's family and find out what they know… do we have an ID on her yet?"

"Hey, I'm Lucas Darnell, forensic scientist. The vic's name is Sophie Brown, 28 year old vet nurse from Brisbane." Lucas says, passing you a sheet of paper as he does. Looking over her photo, a twinge of sadness hits you as you see her laughing with presumably her husband and kids. "What are you doing so far from home Sophie?" You murmur, reading through the details on her paper. A strong presence comes behind you as Miranda bends down to look over your shoulder at the paper. The faint scent of cigarettes covered by her deodorant fills your nose as she does.

"Sweet woman. Who'd do something like this to her?" She says, as your heart rate increases at having her so close to you. Her scent and her presence behind you is enticing, you never want her to leave. Trailing your finger down the paper, her brother catches your attention. "Does her brother sound familiar to you? James Brown. Known criminal, just got out of jail a month ago for armed robbery. Maybe he's done something to the wrong people and this is their way of payback?"

Miranda nods as you say this, not really listening to your words as she realises how close she is behind you. Feeling the warmth radiating off your body, she breathes in your perfume, enjoying the subtle vanilla scent. “Miranda?” Your voice brings her back to reality. “Hmm? Sorry.” She says, her breath warm against your skin. “Did you want to try to get a hold of her family? We need to figure out why she’s so far away from Brisbane.”

Taking a step back, she regains her composure as she exhales sharply. “Right, yes. Of course. Sorry.” She quickly says, heat rising over her cheeks as she walks off. A small smile appears on your lips as she does, watching her as she nearly trips over Lucas who’s swabbing the car’s steering wheel for DNA. Turning back to Sophie’s body, you notice a small mark on the inside of her wrist. A small M is branded onto her skin. Running your fingers over the bumps, you call Lucas over. “How much do you know about brands?”

You move over as he leans forward to get a closer look. “I’ve seen it before. M is the brand the Serbian Mafia gives to those they use as blackmail. The last time I saw it, I was a new employee at the precinct. The victim was the husband of a rival gang member. He was kidnapped and branded, the photo was sent to the wife along with a threatening message. He was found dead the next day.” This sparks your interest. If your theory is correct and it is to do with the brother, it means that you need to speak to James.

Searching around the scene, you see Miranda leaning against a police vehicle, one hand in her pocket as the other holds her phone to her ear. She shakes her head, hanging up the call as you come over. “James has been missing for the past week and Sophie's husband, Ray, set up a missing person report for her 5 days ago. The last time anyone saw her was 1.39am Saturday morning. She disappeared with a hooded guy while out in town for her friend’s birthday.”

“A hooded guy? Like her brother? A lover? Gang member?” You ask, new possible theories popping up in your head. Miranda shrugs as she responds. “That’s all I could find out. I’ve put out an APB for James and have got the police on their way to contact Sophie’s friends and family to see what they can find out.”

“Ah you’re incredible, thank you. I just need to check out one more thing before we should start getting ready for the bar.” You say as Miranda blushes at your words. The single compliment means everything to the constable, butterflies crowding her stomach. “Alright, what were you wanting to check out?” She falls into step with you as you duck back under the police tape. “The car. It’s been abandoned and clearly belongs to the Serbian Mafia so I wouldn’t be surprised if it has fake plates. But, I want to see if anyone’s put anything out about it.”

Pulling out your phone, you search up the plate number. “Yep. Fake plates. These ones are registered to a silver Nissan Note.” Your breath hitches as you see the owner’s name. “Hold on… it belongs to Mrs Margaret Brown. It can’t be a coincidence that the last names are the same.” A soft smile pulls at Miranda’s lips as she watches you emerge in your thoughts, mumbling theories out loud as each one pops into your head. Checking her watch, she brings you back to reality. “Right, so… it’s 6pm. We can either stay here creating theories all night or we can go mix in with the Serbian Mafia. Pick your poison detective.” She grins as a small chuckle escapes you at her enthusiasm. “Of course, sorry. I get rather carried away when I’m working. We should get ready.” You say, the two of you walking towards the car.

“It’s ok, I think your determination when working is rather cu- inspiring.” She catches herself before completing her sentence as heat rises on her cheeks yet again. Getting into the car, she rubs her sweaty palms on the fabric of her pants. You grin. “Well thank you.” Turning on the car, the two of you exchange eager conversation until you pull into her apartment complex carpark. “I’ll pick you up at 7.30.” You say, giving her a cheeky grin. “I look forward to it.”

Getting back to your apartment, you quickly jump in the shower, lathering your hair with shampoo and conditioner in turn. Washing your hair out, you turn the shower off as you wrap a towel around yourself. You glance at the time as you run a brush through your hair, pulling it up out of your face. 6.43pm. Right, 45 minutes to apply makeup, find an outfit and drive to Miranda’s. Pulling out your makeup, you place it on the edge of the sink, quickly rubbing primer onto your skin. Twenty minutes later, you rummage through your wardrobe desperately trying to find something to wear. Eventually you decide on a white low cut tank top and ripped, black, denim jeans. Grabbing a leather jacket, you pull it over your shoulders as you grab your keys and exit your apartment.

“Well, don’t you look gorgeous?” Miranda says, opening up the car door. A grin pulls at your lips as you respond. “I could say the same to you.” Miranda had traded her police uniform for light blue jeans, a black shirt with lace sleeves tucked into her waistband. The familiar red blush spreads over her cheeks. “I-... Thank you. I don’t really wear this often.” You nod, a genuine smile pulling at both of your faces as you reverse out of the park. “So… you ready to meet the Serbian Mafia?” The look she gives you is priceless. “Absolutely not.” You can’t help the chuckle escaping you at her response.

The duration of the car ride is spent full of eager conversation between the two of you. Both of you are pinging off each other, your energy sky-rocketing as you talk about anything and everything. Turning into the car park, you grin as you see the bar’s owner Marco talking with a group of people outside. “SEND IT COBRA!” Giving you a wave, he calls out across the carpark. “Cobra?” Miranda asks, confusion evident in her voice. “Hold on to something.” You say as a grin pulls at your lips. Putting your Commodore into first gear, you depress the clutch and begin revving the engine. She didn’t have time to respond before you lock your handbrake and release the clutch, the smell of burning rubber filling your nose as your tires spin beneath you. The sound of your wheels squealing echoes through the carpark as Marco cheers you on. Miranda’s eyes are wide, grasping onto the door handle as you pull the car into a donut, avoiding the parked cars with ease.

As she realises you know what you’re doing, Miranda relaxes her white knuckled grip and a grin pulls at her lips, an excited whoop escaping her. Flinging the back end of your car around, you switch directions, tyres still squealing as smoke flies from them. You bring your car back under control, pulling calmly into an empty parking space with a grin spreading across your face. Looking over at Miranda, she has the same grin on her face, her chest rising heavily with each adrenaline filled breath. “I do apologise, I was going to tell you about me doing that then I decided against it, I wanted to see your reaction.” An excited laugh escapes her, her face lighting up with joy. “Y/N, you little minx.”

Opening up the door to your car, you give her a cheeky wink. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.” Her cheeks burn with an all too familiar blush as you say this. “Yo Cobra! That was sick!” Marco’s Italian accent fills your ears as he comes up to bring you into a hug. “Marco, my bro!” You heartily slap him on the back of the shoulder as the hug breaks away. “Miranda, this is my childhood mate Marco. Marco, meet Miranda.”

“Hey, nice to meet you.” Miranda says, offering her hand out to Marco which he shakes. “You too, any mate of Cobra’s is a mate of mine.” Scanning your gaze over the carpark, you remember what you’re here to do as a black Harley-Davidson Breakout catches your eye. The Serbian Mafia symbol is engraved in the back. “Hey, Marco. We’ll catch up with you later, we’re actually here for work.” You say as Marco nods. “I’ll see you later Cobra, be careful in there.” Falling into step with Miranda, the two of you walk across the carpark, your eyes still hooked on the bike.

“So where did the nickname Cobra come from?” Curiosity is evident in Miranda’s voice as she asks this, making you grin. Stopping in your tracks, you bend down to roll up your jeans on your left leg. Halfway up your calf are two fang marks and a gasp escapes her as she sees them. “When Marco and I were in our early twenties, we decided to take a trip to Thailand. I was young and dumb, and thought it’d be funny to go bush-bashing in the middle of the night. Accidentally stood on a monocled cobra and suddenly it wasn’t so funny after that. Lucky for me, there was no envenomation and I lived to tell the tale. He’s called me Cobra since then.”

“Jesus christ Y/N.” She says, as you walk into the pub, loud cheers and bottles clinking sound from the corner. Walking up to the bar, you pull out your card. “Smirnoff Double Black please.” You say, turning to Miranda for her drink choice. “I’ll have a Heineken.” She says, beginning to pull out her credit card before you stop her. “My shout.” You say, holding your card out to Paywave it. “Thank you.” She puts her card back in her pocket, grateful that the dimmer lighting hides the blush on her cheeks. She can’t help it, never before has she been so easily flustered. Whenever she’s around you, however, she gets butterflies in her stomach, a constant blush over her cheeks.

Grabbing your drinks, you walk over to a table in the corner, pulling out the stools for both of you as your eyes scan over the room. Your attention is caught on the group of men drunkenly playing darts opposite you. Heavily tattooed and wearing biker jackets, you weren’t quite able to read their patches but you knew to keep watch on them. “Don’t make it obvious what you’re doing, but those six men behind you playing darts? Can you make out any of their patches?” You say under your breath as Miranda pretends to drop her wallet on the ground. Bending down, she looks back before sitting back up moments later shaking her head. “None of them look like they’re our guys but still keep an eye on them.” You nod, taking a sip from your bottle as a loud cheer sounds from the pool table. “Skivvy run! Skivvy run! Skivvy run! Skivvy run!” The group starts chanting, slamming their fists down on the table as they pull the loser to the middle of the room.

A grin spreads over both of your faces as the two of you join in, banging your fists on the table as you chant. By the time the man took off his clothes, the entire bar was chanting along with drunken words. Cheering and wolf-whistles sound amongst applause as he strips down to his underwear. Taking a deep breath, he runs out the door whooping in his underpants through the car park as both you and Miranda start laughing. Shaking her head, she catches your eye which only makes the two of you laugh harder. “Don’t miss that.” You grin, watching as he comes back in panting, bending over to lean his hands on his knees. “You’ve done a skivvy run before?” She says, an all too familiar heat spreading through her as she imagines you in your underwear running down the street. You nod, laughing at the many memories of it. “Oh I’ve done a lot more than I’d care to admit… you?” Sticking her lower lip out, she shakes her head. “Nah, can’t say I have.”

A mischievous glint appears in your eyes as you hear this. “Ooh okay, when we’re not working, we’re going out drinking and you’re doing your first skivvy run.” Her mouth hangs agape as a breath sharply escapes her in shock. “And what makes you think I’d want to do that?” She asks, taking a drink from her beer as you grin. “Because I know you’d always be down for a fun time. Besides, you haven’t lived if you haven’t done a skivvy run at least once.” Your grin dies down as you see the bathroom doors open and a middle aged man in a biker’s jacket walks out, one of his patches catching your eye. “I think I found the owner of the bike outside.” You say, nodding your head in his direction for Miranda to look. Turning her head, she nods as she sees the same symbol on his patches.

Standing up from your seat, you down the rest of your drink as she does the same. Quickly making your way through the crowd, you approach your suspect who’s now sitting at a table in the corner, eyes hooked on the TV screen. “Excuse me, sir? Detective Y/L/N, Sydney Police, this is my partner, Constable Hilmarson. We just want to ask you a few questions regarding a body found in the back of an abandoned car.” You say, opening your jacket slightly to reveal your police badge hanging from the inside pocket. His face remains expressionless as his eyes slowly move down to your badge before looking up at you. “Thomas Parkes, and you assume because of my patch that I’m involved? I’m just here to enjoy a few drinks and the game detective. I’m not looking for any trouble.”

“Neither are we Thomas. Which is why we just want to ask a few questions. If you’re innocent, you have nothing to worry about and will be able to return to your drinks and the game.” Miranda says, as his attention turns to her. Picking up his beer, he takes a sip, contemplating his choices. He nods as he returns his drink to the table, swallowing the liquid. “Alright.” Relief floods your veins at the single word uttered from his mouth. “Thank you, sir. Please come with us.” Miranda falls behind him, keeping an eye on his actions as he follows you outside. Finding a quiet place in the corner of the car park, you pull out your voice recorder. “Sir, can you please state your name and number in case we need to contact you with further questions?”

Sighing, you lean forward in your seat, resting your elbows on the table as you cradle your head in your hands. “So… that was useless.” You say as Miranda nods, taking a swig from her newly opened beer as the two of you sit defeated in the corner of the pub. Thomas, so far, isn’t your guy. He had an iron-clad alibi, sober driving his wife home from town the night Sophie went missing and claimed he didn’t know anything about the Brown family. “Only one thing we can do now, given this time of night.” You say, taking a sip from your Smirnoff before putting it back down on the wooden table as Miranda looks at you to continue. A smile pulls at both of your lips as you say your next word. “Drink.”

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

A/N: Me? Know how to skid? Pssshhh never, I'm a good girl. *Is about to head out for a night of skids even though the last time I went for skids was last week and the car caught fire and I was trapped in the back over the gas tank with the door being melded shut by the heat.*

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

[wearethefandomsthatwaited]

Vagos pt. 1 - Lassiter? More like Assiter!

It was way too early in the morning for the sun to be shining so pleasantly. Glancing at her watch, she notes that it was only just pushing six thirty. Scowling up at the sun from behind her sunglasses, she breathes the warm ocean breeze, salty air filling her nostrils. She takes a deep sip of her coffee, wincing when it pulls at the bruise on her cheek. She savores the coffee, breath hitching, waiting for the caffeine to take effect. It had been a long night…too long. This moment of reprieve was long past due, as she slouched into the bench at her back.

The station was still quiet behind her, though she did note a few rookies leaving the building, no doubt having clocked off from night patrol. They stepped past her warily, eyeing her appearance and the motorcycle to her left with concern. The parking lot was practically empty, save for her vintage Harley. She smiled at them slightly, before scowling when it seemed that they weren’t leaving their gawking anytime soon. It seemed to do the trick, for they scampered to their personal vehicles.

Santa Barbara’s finest my ass.

She finishes her coffee slowly, waiting for the three extra shots of espresso to do their trick. It was closer to seven by the time she felt the caffeine take hold, pushing the exhaustion from her all-nighter, at bay. With a deep, steadying breath, she stood, groaning at the pang she felt from her tired muscles, joints popping loudly. She eyed a little blue car and an exceedingly waxed Crown Vic, police issued no doubt, as she untied the green bandana from her Harley, before stuffing it into the saddlebag on the side. Better safe than sorry.

A tall, suit-clad, man lept from the Vic, dark hair glinting in the sun, as his long legs carried him up the steps of the precinct, a similarly clad petite blonde woman close at his heels. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, and from the serious looks on their faces, it was, no doubt, about a case. Detectives.

She watched them pass from where she leaned against her bike, though they paid no mind to the stranger, too absorbed in case specifics. As they disappeared into the building, she glanced back to the little blue car, whose occupants were still inside, seemingly arguing, hands being thrown around animatedly by the lighter of the two. The other man only rolled his eyes, before exiting the car, albeit grudgingly. The flailer bounced out, a large smile on his face. His partner did not seem as enthused as he adjusted his lavender dress shirt under his charcoal jacket. “But Gus!” The dark, handsome man sent his friend a glare, which resulted in both sucking their teeth at each other, repeatedly, as if at war. She snorted at the two, their childish behavior so unlike what she expected. Her action didn’t go unnoticed, however, as the more child-like of the two stopped the fight, head turning her way. His eyes were keen, she could tell that even across the parking lot, as they quickly flicked over her, before lighting up as he pulled his friend toward her.

“You,” he said, “have fantastic hair…And I don’t say that about anyone.” She smiled slightly from behind her large, dark tinted sunglasses. Her hair had just started to curl at the nape of her neck, soft platinum curls growing into a proper pixie cut. She’d had to shave it for work a few months back, long story, and it was finally at a length that she felt comfortable with, though the buzzcut had made her feel badass.

“It’s true,” the other man interjected, pointedly elbowing his friend in the ribs, as he tried to meet her eyes through the sunglasses, “He’s only ever said that about himself.” She snorted again, shaking her head, slightly, at the two. “Burton Gustor,” he added, puffing his chest out and slipping into a pseudo-suave voice as he thumbed his nose, in a way that she guessed he thought was cool. She met his hand halfway, capturing it in a handshake, as he added, “You heard about Pluto?”

She felt her lips upturn again, replying seriously, “Jewel Stewart. And yes, it’s a travesty.” The man agreed, emphatically, about to devolve into an impassioned speech about Pluto, before the other one, who had been silently watching the ordeal with horror, suddenly broke in, pulling their attention.

“Before he goes full nerd, and bores us all to death,” Gus exclaims, but his friend continues over the noise, “I’m Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic of the SBPD.” Her eyebrows rise at this, once again forcing a wince to her face.

“Head Psychic huh?” She peers at him carefully. “Didn’t know SBPD had one of those.”

Spencer smiles brightly, “Oh yes,” he begins sagely, shaking his head in a serious manner, “I’m integral in solving cases here. The spirits always find the truth.”

Jewel hums in a disbelieving manner. “Just like they know that you were in a brawl with some tough dudes, and sustained several injuries.” He says all this with his fingers to his temple, an almost constipated look on his face. Jewel looks down at her dark green, short sleeved button down, noticing the once lustrous material is dusty, ripped in places. There’s one large tear at her torso, near the top of her dark jeans where the shirt is slightly tucked, which has blood staining the material. She notices, faintly, that it has also dripped onto her white chelsea docs. My favorite boots! With a frown, she pulls her leather jacket tighter on her body, hoping he doesn’t see the fresh blood still oozing sluggishly from the wound.

“Obvious,” she states gruffly, “but true.” With that, she nods at them, “Mr. Guster, Mr. Spencer, pleasure to meet you.” Making an about face, she lets her docs carry her up the steps of the precinct, the platforms heavy as they thud on the cement. Each step shoots a pain up her side, but she ignores it, gritting her teeth as she ascends. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. She hears clombering footsteps behind her, but ignores them, rolling her eyes as she hears the two whisper fighting as they follow her. She pushes the doors open, taking in the room with a scan.

Officers are already lost in their work, bustling around with files, staring determinitely at their computer screens, and talking in hushed tones over open reports. Jewel notices the tall, dark haired detective from before, standing imperiously as he barks orders at a very tall patrol officer, who surprisingly, scampers away to do as he’s told. The detective sips from his coffee mug, impossibly blue eyes scanning the room, power and authority radiating off his being. Jewel can’t help but stare as he commands the room, a flush coming to her face. She clears her throat when his eyes land on her, quickly scanning her body critically, before falling on the two men behind her. His expression darkens, and soon enough, long strides bring him to where they stand. Her eyes quickly scan his body, noting the leather shoulder holster over his broad shoulders. He’s removed his jacket since coming inside, his blue shirt-sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s definitely attractive, in a gruff, clean cut sort of way.

As he barks the last names of the men behind her, Jewel returns to her original mission, trying to locate the chief's office. She’s pulled back into the conversation when Spencer shouts, “But we have to report a crime!” She turns to them, only to notice that all eyes are suddenly on her. The psychic is looking at her with a querying gaze, as if he’s figuring out a puzzle, while Guster grins at her. She notices that the blonde detective from before has joined them, and is wearing a similar inscrutable expression as her male counterpart.

“Who are you?” The male detective questions, deep voice gruff. Before she can reply, the psychic talks over her.

“This lovely lady,” he smiles, gesturing to Jewel, who absolutely rolls her eyes behind the sunglasses, “Is Jewel --”

“Jewel,” he interrupts, letting the words stretch out, before glancing at her clothing. “Are you a stripper?” She gawks at the question, not even wincing as her jaw hits the floor. I did not expect that. Who does this guy think he is?

“Lassiter,” the blonde woman admonishes strictly, voice sharp as she sends an apologetic look her way. Jewel bristles, a growl wanting to escape, as the man merely shrugs, trying to defend himself.

“What, O’Hara,” he argues, “It’s an honest question. Jewel?” he throws his arms in the air, as if what he’s explaining is obvious, “It’s a stripper name! I never said there was anything wrong with her being a stripper…or hooking, or whatever. Though hooking is illegal in California.”

He’s about to continue his rant, when Spencer interrupts him, “Uh, Lassiter…Lassie,” the man hedges, glancing at Jewel’s back, where she’s hiding her service weapon and badge within her waistband, “You might want to shut up now.” His voice rises at the end, sending a warning glance Lassiter’s way. The detective bristles at Spencer’s words, preparing to argue with him too, before Shawn finally whisper yells at him, cutting off Lassiter before he begins. “She’s undercover Lassie!”

Jewel freezes, tearing off her sunglasses to glare at Spencer from behind a swelling black eye…which probably isn’t as intimidating as she would like… her split lip twitching up into a smile at how proud he looks at having figured it out. The rest of the group of five stare at her, bewildered. Lassiter looks pink in the cheeks, but not apologetic. She pulls her badge from her waistband, flashing it, before securing it once more. “I’m terribly sorry about my partner,” O’Hara begins, though she is silenced by Jewel with a wave of a hand.

“Detective O’Hara,” Jewel begins, voice stern yet gentle as she looks into the sweet eyes of the young woman, “Don’t worry, I can handle my own against Assiter.” A smirk pulls at Jewel’s face as Guster squeaks, while Shawn and O’Hara try to hold back grins.

Lassiter’s eyes flash, face taking on a deep red hue at her insult, but he reigns himself in before he lets his anger out. “Is Jewel an alias?”

“No,” Jewel replies curtly, “I was named after the singer.”

“Just, exactly, how old are you?” He questions indignantly as a door opens up across the bullpen.

“Old enough,” she replies, standing to her full height, even if it sends a wave of pain through her abdomen. With the platform boots, her height reaches the tops of his red ears, eyes level with Lassiter’s mouth, a fact which she promptly ignores, raising her eyes slightly to stare into his bright, icy blue eyes. He stares right back, the silent reverie witnessed in amused bewilderment by the rest of the group.

“Detective Stewart,” a voice across the bullpen breaks their focus, the sound of approaching heels clicking on the terra-cotta tile, as a woman that can be none other than Chief Vick approaches their circle. “Welcome to the SBPD.”

Part 2 In the Chief's Office

Notes:

THERE IS NOT NEARLY ENOUGH LASSITER fic!!! This is because I needed more of our grumpy detective. I've begun this, purely, with the knowledge of being from California, and the midnight research I've done about Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs. Could not get the idea out of my head, and thus Vagos, a REAL motorcycle club, (which I borrowed the name from) was born. I do not own any characters from psych, only my original female character, and I do not have any affiliation with the Vagos. I really hope you enjoyed this, and I can't wait to see where it leads. Please let me know what you think!!!

[bonkersdbobcat]

~~a whole Thing that was written a little while back involving characters from @anotherhumanpet (Jaden), @codenamejudas (Judas), and of course this blog~~

~~~~

 Judas rocked back and forth in the office chair, “Before we start I’d just like to claim that those tuna cans weren’t nailed down and therefore anyone could have taken them so you can’t really call it theft.”

 “We were hoping you’d-” Detective Piquel’s brow furrowed, his voice dropping low, “what tuna cans?”

 “ᴺᵒᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ. No tuna cans.”

  Jaden frowned, “Judas.”

 He made a point of not looking Jaden in the eye while whining, “I was hungry.”

 “We have food.”

 Piquel’s arm waved frantically, dismissing the distraction. “Nevermind! We need you to cooperate with us on a case.” The smile spreading over Judas’ face could have lit up the room if the shoddy lighting gave out. “Toon division only has two officers and we’re getting easy to pick out on the streets.”

 “Really?” Jaden deadpanned,” Thought you were aiming for stealth with the bright orange bobcat.”

 “So!” Judas balanced on the back legs of his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk in a dramatic display, “you two spend all this time berating my petty crimes and now you’re crawling on your knees for my help.”

 “Actually,” Piquel said dryly, keeping his eyes locked with Jaden’s, “we want his help.”

 The chair slid out from under him and Judas hit the floor with a shout. “What?” His head popped up to peer over the desk, “But he’s not a toon!”

 “Neither am I.”

 Jaden looked just as confused, “Why me?”

 Bonkers bounded over to Jaden’s side, arms outstretched like he was showing off a prize car, “Look at that stance!” He crawled up on the back of Jaden’s shoulders, “That jacket!” Then swung around front, “Those eyes that stare deep into your soul,” Bonkers shuddered. “Who else looks like the picture perfect crook?” Jaden plucked him off and let him drop to the floor, only to have him spring back up on his tail and pause mid-air to point, “Not to mention the motorcycle.” When Jaden crossed arms and stared him down, Bonkers dropped onto the floor laughing nervously, “Of course, we know you’re a good guy.”

 “I’m not doing it.”

 Bonkers’ face fell, “But Jaden! We need you! You’re the perfect cri-mi-nal.”

 “Do I look like I work for the fucking police department?”

 “No! That’s why it’ll work!”

 “You fit the narrative, babe.” Judas winced at the look he got but smiled through it, “To normal people you might look like any guy on the street but toons don’t think normal.”

 “Tell me about it,” Piquel muttered.

 Bonkers slid on his knees and gently came to a stop against Jaden’s leg, “I didn’t mean it in any bad way. I meant it in a good way. A great way! Think of it like the perfect casting for a part in stopping crime. By becoming crime and taking it out from the inside! Pleeeeeease.”

 There was a long, sharp intake of breath from Jaden. “What do we get?”

 Bonkers bounced up standing perfectly straight with a beaming smile, “Half my week’s paycheck and a few days of getting to be my partner!”

 “Nope.” He promptly scooped Judas under his arm and headed for the stairs up out of the basement office.

 One step in and Bonkers was clinging to his collar, “But this could be a major break in the case for us!”

 Jaden leaned his head back, sneering, "And you're asking me to risk my life doing you a favour for half a paycheck because I wear a leather jacket. I'm not doing this. Not for chump change."

 Bonkers leaned over, looking to Judas for help. Judas gave it some solid thought, “Half your paycheck and I get dessert at family dinners for a year.”

 “Deal.”

 “We’re in.”

 “Excuse you?”

 “Heh...whaaat, it was a good deal. Besides, I wouldn’t have you off on your own. Bonkers and I’ll be there to keep you safe.”

 Jaden used his free hand to pry Bonkers off and set him down. “So what exactly did I just get signed up for?”

 “There's these toons, led by Dresden Greed, who are making fake jewellery and swapping them out with the real stuff. But we can't find their manufacturing facility. We need someone to get in with them and find it so we can bust it!”

 “Okay. And you think they’ll let me in because of my jacket because...?”

 “Because you're tall and mysterious and you drive a motorcycle! All you need is a pair of shades and a little trick we set up with the owner of the jewellers and BAM you're in!”

 “Am I the only one who hears how stupid this plan is?”

 “No.” A chorus from Judas and Lucky. “But you know what?” Judas added. “Might be stupid enough to work.”

 There was the deepest, heaviest sigh from Jaden, “How much is half a paycheck exactly?”

 “Enough to keep a place in Hollywood Hills!”

 “He lives in a trailer on the edge of a cliff, we’ll be lucky to get $30.”

 “I’m risking my life for $30!?”

 “And a year of dessert.” Jaden’s grip on Judas ‘slipped’ and Judas yelped as he hit the floor. “But Jaaadeeen!”

 “I ain’t dying for a $30 stereotype!”

 Judas flopped down on the cement as Jaden shut the office door a little harder than necessary, “There goes my meal ticket.”

 “Can’t blame him,” Piquel sighed, “I wouldn’t do it either. But Bonkers insisted.”

 “Yea, he’s real good at that. Where the hell’d he go anyway?”

~~

 “Waaaait!”

 “I already told you-”

 “I know! But I thought I’d tell you something too.” There was a long silent pause, filled with...nothing.

 “Well?”

 “Right!” Bonkers took a deep breath in that puffed his chest out, and Jaden winced instinctively expecting something loud. But when he straightened out, Bonkers threw on the puppy dog eyes, working them hard. He started a count down from four in his head, and just as he hit ‘one’...

 “Alright, fine, I’ll do the stupid plan!”

 “Great! Because I already got the shades,” he sprang up and slid them over Jaden’s eyes.

 “But I want an apology.”

 “For what??”

 "For lumping me into this shit because I have a motorcycle and a jacket."

 “I! But!” After some frantic gesturing, Bonkers slumped over in a pout, mumbling, “Sorry.”

 “Thank you.” Jaden huffed, “Now where do we start this disaster?”

~~

 Jaden leaned against the brick wall of the alley. The leaning was very important. Apparently. It had been circled and underlined three times on the script. And yes, there had been a script. As much as he hated to say it, he was grateful to have Lucky present going over it to add a bit of sanity to the whole process. But Judas had also given it a few glances over. Bonkers was a show toon, him and Judas both grew up here. He’d have to trust their process. And maybe start believing in some kind of god. Just in case.

 As the thugs were crashing through the wall into the back alley for their escape, they didn’t even see Jaden. They’d got the pattern right for the store they’d hit next. At least something was going to plan. “So you guys are the toons ripping me off, huh?”

 The three of them jumped and shrieked, then spun on Jaden. He got a good look at their ragtag group; a cat, a raccoon and a weasel. “What’s it to you?”

 “You want us to ice this guy, boss?” The weasel was holding a gun up, though it clearly wasn’t real. Not in a fake sense, but a toon one. Jaden fought the urge to raise his hands placatingly. “Heeey, this guy ain’t no toon.”

 “Observant,” Jaden did his best to keep his voice from shaking. One of these guys definitely had a gun and toon version or not, it would do something to him if it went off. “Should use that skill for your product.”

 “Ay, what’s wrong with our jewels, huh? Ow! What was that for?”

 “Shut your mouth,” Dresden hissed. “what if he’s a cop!”

 “Your diamonds, for one thing.” Jaden popped his fist open, showing off a handful of small diamonds some of which were real and others were evidence retrieved from the target shops, and a jewellers eyeglass. “The round cuts you’re imitating are supposed to have 58 facets.”

 “Let me see those!” Dresden swiped Jaden’s hand clean, spying through the glass and counting under his breath. Annoyed at the correction, he dropped the collection into one of his goons’ hands who took a look as well. “This your place then?”

 Jaden laughed in a way he hoped was convincing, “I look like some overstuffed jeweller? No, I’ve been swiping from stores where your stuff’s ended up.” When they instinctively started to hand back what was Jaden’s originally, he held his hand up. “Don’t worry about it, half it’s fake anyway. Consider it my investment.”

 “Investment?”

 “Yeah. In our future business together.”

 Dresden nodded slowly, turning the diamonds over in his hands, “Yea, alright.” A card was fished out from a pocket and got a time scribbled on it before being handed over.

 “Scrap metal recycling,” Jaden nodded in appreciation. “Can’t wait to see it in action.”

 Waiting a few beats for the group to get out of earshot, Judas and Bonkers popped up from one of the garbage cans in the alley. “You did it!” Bonkers hopped up and swiped the card, “Our first clue!”

 Jaden swiped it back just as fast. He wasn’t about to have the one thing they got out of the ordeal get shredded.

~~

 Jaden slid the card over Detective Piquel’s desk, “Got an address. Whether it’s the right one or not,” he shrugged.

 Bonkers plucked the card up, squinting at it. “Why would a bunch of low lifes want to help the planet?”

 “They don’t. This way nobody questions all the cheap metal coming in to make the rings and parts for the accessories.”

 “That’s smart, Lucky.” Jaden didn’t say it as a compliment.

 “It’s creative. One thing toons are good at.”

 “So you guys go bust it, and we take our cut on payday.”

 “Not yeeet~” Bonkers singsonged. “We gotta make sure it’s the right place or they’ll know we’re onto them.”

 “Yea, and if it’s the wrong place then it’s a trap. For me.”

 “If we show up at the wrong factory, Dresden’s gonna hightail it outta there and we’ll have to start all over!”

 “So,” Judas said, catching Bonkers around the shoulder, “we go with him, yea?”

 “Uhh-”

 “We use that scooter of yours, duct tape its mouth shut, and follow Jaden to his meeting. That way if anything goes wrong-”

 “Which it won’t!”

 “We step in and create a distraction so he can tap out.”

 “He can tap out now if he wants,” Piquel chimed in, straightening out the paperwork started for the case.

 Bonkers gasped, “But Lucky! We’re so close!”

 “He’s a civilian, Bonkers, a human one at that. We aren’t risking him getting hurt or worse.”

 The toon took a deep breath and sighed, “Yea. I guess you’re right.”

 He didn’t want to do it. At the end of the day, if a bunch of jewellery got replaced with nearly-perfect fakes, what did it matter? “I’ll do it.” Bonkers brightened considerably, but Jaden kept his attention on the detective, “One condition. You owe me a favour.”

 “What kinda favour?”

 “I won’t know until I need it.”

 “Oooo, he could ask for anything, boss. You could ask for anything, Jaden.”

 If it were Judas, Piquel would have said no instantly. But Jaden had a good head on his shoulders. “You’ve got a deal.”

~~

 Place certainly looked the part. Jaden arrived fashionably late; another ‘script’ cue. Bad guys never showed up on time, they always had to make people sweat. As he walked in the door he could hear the hushed banter of the crooks.

 “He ain’t comin’. I told ya-”

 “He’ll be here,” Dresden purred calmly. The click of the door shutting signalled his arrival, and the toon cat spun around with arms held out high, “Ah, our guest!”

 “Business partner.”

 “He sounds serious, boss.”

 “Humans are surprisingly good at that. But before we talk business, I think we should show our new partner around. So tell me,” Dresden balanced a particularly large diamond on his claws, “why does a human want to get in work with a bunch of toons.”

 “Creativity.” Jaden parroted Lucky’s words, “It’s something toons do better than anyone I know. And the operation you’ve got going here isn’t just creative, it’s downright intelligent.”

 Dresden’s face lit up at the compliment, “You really think so?”

 “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

 The claws disappeared and Dresden took Jaden around the waist, since he had no hope in hell of reaching the man’s shoulders. Cheerfully he talked while leading Jaden into another room.

 “I don’t like’im.”

 “He gets cozy with the boss, we might be outta our jobs.”

 “Not to mention our cut!”

 “Sounds like we oughta cut him outta the picture.”

~~

 The perks of cat-like reflexes meant getting a view from above came easy. While Judas shimmied along the upper beams he sighed. “You really wore your uniform?”

 “I’m on the clock!”

 “Yea and if we get caught they’ll take one look at you and that badge and we’re done for. Gimme that. And lose the hat.”

 “Hands off! If I don’t have my badge how’ll they know the long arm of the law has arrived to bring them to justice?”

 “They won’t! That’s the point, now settle down and hand them over.”

 “Quit it!”

 Somewhere in the scuffle, a bolt in the beam wiggled loose and hit the ground. Both of them froze. Judas’ toes barely clung to the edge as the two of them held a 45 degree angle, threatening to teeter over while they caught the bandits’ last exchange.

 “Jaden,” Judas gasped under his breath then locked eyes with Bonkers. “Sorry buddy.” He pulled his hands away with the expectation Bonkers would fall. Instead the toon kicked in mid-air and slammed into Judas’ chest, sliding them perfectly backwards off the rafter and pausing only a moment before gravity clued in. “Oh f-” They landed in a dazed heap on the floor, catching the full attention of the raccoon and weasel.

 “It’s that toon cop!”

 Judas shook his head clear, smacking Bonkers, “I told you!”

 Bonkers sprang up, holding his hand out making finger guns, “Freeze!”

 The thugs put their hands up in the air, before slowly cluing in, “Hey, wait a second.” The weasel pulled his gun and held it barrel-to-finger tip, grinning, “I think mine wins.”

 Bonkers gave a nervous laugh, “Best two out of three?”

 “Oh for fuck sake,” Judas caught his brother around the chest and scooped him up before bolting.

 “Get’em!”

 Bonkers got a good look at the guys after them and pushed free from Judas’ grip, speeding ahead, tripping over is tail and sending both of them rolling against a post.

 “Nice footwork, buddy,” Judas hissed, rubbing the back of his head. He kicked at the goons grabbing their legs but it was a little too delayed to have a good effect.

 Both of them clung to the post on opposite sides, keeping a good grip despite the round shape. They might have lasted longer if the raccoon trying to pry Judas free hadn’t opened his eyes from the physical effort and caught sight of Judas’ body stretching. He yelped, the sudden noise startling his partner, and both Judas and Bonkers snapped forward like rubber bands smacking backwards into the wall. While they’d each taken the hit the same way, it was Judas who got the attention.

 “That can’t be normal, can it? No human I’ve ever seen splattered like that before.”

 “I’m only half human,” Judas croaked out, still reeling from the impact. “My other half’s a little more flexible.”

 “Heh, guess that’s lucky for you. C’mon, boss’ll know what to do with these two.”

 The moment they were alone, Bonkers popped free and back into shape, “Come on, we gotta get to Jaden before they do! Say, you’re not stuck are you?”

 “No, I’ve always wanted to be a poster boy for crime.”

 Bonkers closed one eye and held his fingers up as a frame, “It does suit you.”

 “Get me down!”

~~

 If Jaden had guessed he’d spend the night listening to a literal cat burglar recounting his rise and fall into jewellery theft, he would have brought a coffee. The guy was so caught up in his stories, snapping a few photos of the plant in action and sending them to Lucky had been a cinch. Now he just had to survive the exposition.

 “With your keen eye and sticky fingers, and my,” Dresden chuckled, “creativity, we’ll soon have all the jewels in the city!”

 “And there won’t be a single toon or human who doesn’t know the name Dresden Greed.”

 “Yes! You, you, understand!”

 I don’t, Jaden didn’t dare say out loud. Instead he flashed the barest hint of a smile that only faltered when the other half of the group came busting into the factory line.

 “Boss we got trouble. Newbie’s with the cops.”

 Dresden stood to his full, unimpressive height, showing full offence, “Jaden is no cop!”

 “Hold it right there!” Bonkers jumped the weasel, only to get nabbed by the collar and tossed across the room. Jaden caught the toon as he hit his chest, “Hi Jaden.”

 “Where’s Lucky?”

 “Uhh, he’s not here yet,” Bonkers shrank in on himself and shrugged.

 There was a clear expression of hurt and betrayal on Dresden’s face that very quickly shifted to rage. “You double-crosser!”

 “Can we ice’em now, boss?”

 “Yes,” Dresden drawled, “now.”

 Jaden and Bonkers tightened their grip on each other while the weasel clicked the trigger. There was a loud bang. Jaden startled then slowly opened his eyes to find Bonkers covered in...frosting?

 “Buttercream!” Bonkers whined, “Jaden if this dries in my fur it’ll be weeks before it comes out!”

 “Get them you idiots!”

 Bonkers caught Jaden around the wrist and dragged him up onto one of the conveyors so they could climb the machine. Not that Jaden had anywhere else to go but he thought he’d add, “You remember I’m solid, right?”

 “Of course!”

 “Where’s Judas, shouldn’t he be doing the distraction thing we planned out?”

 “Oh! He’s in my pocket.” Jaden froze while Bonkers pulled up what could have passed for a colourful  rolled up newspaper that sounded very angry in a muffled way. “We ran into an itty bitty bit of trouble.”

 “Is he okay?” Jaden let Judas unroll.

 “Fine,” Judas snapped. “Peachy even.”

 “You mind if I...?”

 “Please.”

 With a deep breath from Jaden, Judas popped into shape.

 “You still can’t do that, huh?”

 Judas turned pink, “I can...it just takes a while.”

 “We’re running out of distance up here, guys.”

 “Hey, Bonkers, how’s your aim?”

 “Sharp and straight as ever! Why?”

 “Gonna borrow it for a second.”

 Judas grabbed him around the neck, “Alright, but watch the-” then yanked his tail back like a bow string and let go, “tail!” He smacked into the three toons approaching them with the sound of a cat fighting in an alleyway as they tumbled off the machine and across the floor.

 “Come on, come on, come on!” Now Jaden was getting dragged back down by Judas. His focus had to stay on the strange shape of the machinery so he didn’t slip. He wouldn’t bounce as easily if he went down.

 “Shouldn’t we do something?”

 “It’s you I’m worried about, Bonkers is-”

 “HELP!”

 Their heads snapped up to see Bonkers tied to a rope line, heading towards a vat of molten metal.

 “Okay,” Judas choked out, “maybe he needs a liiittle help.”

 “That...that won’t kill him will it?”

 “Nope. But if they cast him they might drop him in the ocean and finding him’s gonna be an absolute bitch. Go, go, go! I’ll get him, you just get out.” With that, Judas was off up the rope, dodging the frosting bullets as he tight-roped and crawled closer to Bonkers. Just as he was close enough to reach the knots, one of the shots caught his side and sent him spinning around. By the time he stopped, he’d gotten tangled up back-to-back with his brother. “Oh this is gonna be murder on my hair.”

 “Funny. I thought you liked heavy metal.”

 Of course he knew they’d be fine...but he also didn’t trust Judas not to try something new that might not be fine.

 Toon logic was still a budding new experience for Jaden, but he could guess that if the crank on the vat was to pour it into the conveyor molds, then he could rotate it backwards. Right? Jaden rushed over and cranked the lever as fast as he could, whispering a mantra of “This is so dangerous, what am I doing,” to himself. But the vat tipped over as he hoped, its molten contents hitting the group like a wave. Judas and Bonkers swung until they could kick the sprinkler above, setting off the suppression system and instantly cooling the metal coating the floor and their assailants.

  They had a few minutes to get themselves untangled and clamber down to Jaden before Detective Piquel arrived on the scene with a squad. “I’m not gonna ask,” he said. “Just tell me where they are.”

 Judas gave the three metallic statuettes little knocks and grinned terribly at the muffled complaints from inside. “I don’t suppose I get to take these home as a souvenir?”

 Piquel didn’t need the social cues Jaden and Bonkers were giving him to know that wasn’t a humane answer to their problems. Even if they were toons. He motioned for the guys to start work on cutting them out of the floor, “Not a chance. I can’t believe this worked.”

 “I caaan,” Bonkers singsonged. Then he paused as if something just occurred to him. He shot off and slammed into Jaden’s leg, nearly toppling him over. “You saved me! You do care!”

 “It was mostly for Judas now get off me,” he did his best to shake him free. Bonkers clung tight, tongue stuck out and eyes rolling in his head. When it finally came to a stop Bonkers let go, dizzy and wobbling on his feet.

 Piquel caught him before he hit the ground and tossed the toon over his shoulder, “You guys really pulled through for us. We owe you, and I’m not gonna forget that.”

 “Good,” Jaden said. “You need statements or anything you know where we are but I’m going home. Now.”

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Wormhole | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 10k

A/N: This is a comfort fic disguised as a CM episode. Also, I had a lot of fun writing this.

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, murder, general CM things, hospitals, mentions of blood, psychopaths

You weren’t normally nervous to talk to Agent Aaron Hotchner. Sure, he was your boss, but he had also been leading the BAU for so long that you always trusted his reactions and motives. Still, the reason you had asked him to meet was so far out of left field that you were nervous he would tell you you were insane.

You were the first one in the office for the morning, perching on your desk in the empty bullpen while you waited for Hotch to arrive. You stood up when he entered the office, but waited to move until he made it to his office door and beckoned you to follow him inside.

“Good morning, (y/n).”

“Morning, Hotch,” you stood awkwardly in front of his desk, clutching the file in your hands.

“Please, sit. Is everything ok?” As soon as you made eye contact with him, your nerves settled. Everything about his behavior showed that he was genuinely concerned for you and interested in what you had to say. You took a deep breath, sliding the file onto his desk.

“I was looking into this cold case from the eighties, in Illinois. Mia-Rose Horn, 16, found murdered under a bridge. I have a theory, and I was hoping I could take a couple of days to go check it out.” You bit your lip while he picked up the file, thumbing through it.

“What’s your theory?”

“The only suspects considered were older transients in the area because the town was so biased against migrant workers. My preliminary research shows that the unsub profiles as younger, someone who knew the victim and her family personally. It feels like there’s a piece of the puzzle missing, and I think victimology can really help this case. I’d like to visit the dumpsite and walk the crime scene. I’d also like to go through the evidence to see if I can narrow it down a little more, and possibly do updated DNA analysis. I’ve already contacted the lead detective, he said it would be fine if I went out there.”

Hotch was quiet for a minute, reading the case information from the file. The longer you sat in silence, the more you feared he would say no. Finally, he closed the file and handed it back to you, “the FBI wasn’t invited in on this case when it was active, how did you find it?”

You blushed, hard. “I was watching a cold case documentary and when they talked about this one it just didn’t feel right, so I asked Garcia to pull the file. Once I looked it over more I realized my hunch was correct. They barely built a profile and the one they did make was wrong.”

“Do you work on cold cases often?”

“I’ve only worked on it when we don’t have an active case and I’m caught up on my paperwork, it makes me feel like I’m still making a difference when things are slow here.”

Hotch nodded, “you’re a good agent, (y/n). I trust that you’ll represent the BAU well. I can’t let you take the jet but you’re welcome to an SUV. However, as soon as we get an active case it takes priority. Do you understand?”

You stood up quickly, excitedly gripping at the file, “Yes sir, of course. Thank you so much. I promise I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think I could do something. I won’t let you down, sir.” Hotch smiled softly at your energy. You had reached for the door handle before he spoke again, calling after you.

“(y/n),” you turned, hand still on the doorknob, “take Reid with you, I assume he knows the details of this case, too?” You nodded quickly, practically bouncing back to your desk with excitement. You checked the clock, Spencer would probably arrive in the next ten minutes or so, giving you time to arrange everything you’d need for the trip.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, you were waiting for him, go bag in hand.

“Hotch said you could go?”

“Not only that, he said you could come with me,” you smirked, falling in step next to him as he walked to his desk.

“Really?”

“We’re leaving now, so get your go bag.” You did a little happy dance as he started to gather his things.

“Ooh! Where are you going?” Penelope joined you at Spencer’s desk, hot cup of coffee in her hands.

“(y/n) is solving a cold case, we’re going out to Illinois to get more information.”

“The one I pulled for you? You actually solved it? Is there anything you can’t do?” Penelope asked in disbelief. Just last week she had explained to you why she was convinced you were a superhero.

You laughed brightly, “I don’t know if I can solve it yet, that’s why I need to go check it out for myself. Yes, I’ll call you if I need anything,” you answered when she opened her mouth to speak again. She hugged both you and Spencer before you left, making you promise you’d call her with updates and letting you know she’d call the detective to let him know you were on your way.

In true Spencer fashion, he had brought enough audiobooks to last the whole drive. You didn’t mind, your brain was more focused on driving. You didn’t talk about the case until you were nearing the end of the twelve hour road trip. Spencer was the one to bring it up, turning down the volume knob on the console.

“How are you feeling about this?”

“To be honest, Spence, I haven’t really been listening.”

“I meant about the case,” he chuckled.

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up. It’s been a cold case for over three decades for a reason, you know?”

“We wouldn’t be in Illinois right now if you weren’t on to something. Instincts exist for a reason, and your instincts are usually right.”

You fiddled with the air conditioning vents absentmindedly, “I don’t want to dredge up old wounds for the family and the town unless I’m absolutely certain I can bring some closure to them as well. The detective is the only person who knows we’re coming. I don’t want to start interviewing witnesses until I know I can do something to help.”

Spencer nodded, “I’ll follow your lead, you just tell me what you need.”

You spent the rest of the time discussing the details of the case, Spencer looking over the file again while you navigated to the police office. Having Spencer with you made you feel a lot better. You knew the case front to back, but this was your first time leading an investigation and you didn’t want to accidentally miss something in the file out of nervousness. Spencer’s eidetic memory and genius brain would keep you on track and ask you questions you knew would only help you in the grand scheme of things. Spencer was also your best friend, your biggest supporter. Any considerations he had would always come from a place of love and mutual respect.

When you arrived at the police station it was late in the evening, but the detective was waiting for you. He was an older man, tall and mostly bald.

“Hi, you must be Agent (y/l/n). Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Detective Reeves, nice to finally meet you, too. This is my partner, Doctor Reid.” Spencer brought a hand up to wave. “Thanks for letting us take a look at this.”

“Thanks for making the drive out here. This case…” he sighed, “Mia-Rose went missing two months after I started this job and I’ve been hunting her killer ever since. It’s been thirty two years, a fresh pair of eyes will do this case good. It’ll do the whole town good if you can see somethin’ I haven’t.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” you said, not wanting to promise any results to him. “Is there a room we can set up in?”

“I’ve brought all of the evidence to our conference room. Use it for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” you took off to the door that he had pointed at, Spencer on your heels. He shut the door behind you, dropping his bag on a chair while you picked up examination gloves.

The next few hours were spent meticulously going over the evidence that had been collected. You occasionally made comments to Spencer about where the item had come from and any notes that had already been documented about it.

The clock had just passed midnight when you were ready to move on to the next part of your investigation. You wanted to walk the dumpsite, but it would be useless to go while it was still dark. Instead, you retreated to a small motel at Spencer’s insistence that you needed sleep.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to shut my brain off enough to actually sleep,” you confessed once you were wearing sweatpants and leaning up against the headboard of the bed.

Spencer wandered out of the bathroom, giving you the softest look as he sat down next to you.

“What are you thinking about the most?”

“The evidence told me exactly what I thought it would, but I can’t build a decent mental picture of what happened until I see the dump site. What if I get there and it still doesn’t make sense? What if I’m in too deep on this one, Spence?”

“This case has been cold for thirty years, it can wait one more night. You are an incredible FBI agent. You’re an incredible human, at that. I know you can handle this, and Hotch knows you can handle this, too. If you aren’t able to solve it, you’re not letting anyone down. It’s been a cold case for a reason, I’m sure you’ll solve the next one.”

“Logically I know you’re right, but that isn’t making sleep happen any easier,” you sighed, sinking down onto a pillow. You could tell from Spencer’s expression that he had an idea when he reached up, turning off the lamp beside him and laying down next to you in the dark.

“This is called Image Distraction, all you have to do is close your eyes, try to relax, and listen to my voice.”

“Are you hypnotizing me?” you giggled into the darkness, feeling like a small kid at a sleepover with their best friend.

“No, it’s just a strategy to help you fall asleep. I’m going to describe a scene to you and the idea is that it takes up enough space in your brain to prevent you from re-engaging with other thoughts. Hypnosis doesn’t actually put you to sleep, just in a trance that seems like you’re sleeping. It’s been proven to help change habits and thoughts around sleeping though. There was a study done in 2010-”

“Is that what I’m supposed to be picturing? I’m seeing dudes in lab coats and creepy hospital walls.”

You felt the mattress shake next to you as Spencer laughed.

“No, that wasn’t it. I’m going to start now, picture a waterfall. As you walk closer it gets louder, pounding onto the rocks below it and spraying a mist into the air. The droplets of water stick to your face. You can see a rainbow that touches the pool at the base of the waterfall. The plants growing around the pool of water are greener than emeralds, bright and shining in the sun…”

That was the last thing you remembered him saying before succumbing to sleep. You had a very vivid dream while you were sleeping, not uncommon for someone in your field, but it wasn’t one you had had before.

There was a teenage girl walking in front of you down a long hallway. You instantly recognized her as Mia-Rose. She turned around every so often, beckoning you to come closer, but no matter how fast you tried to move your feet it was impossible for you to catch up. The hallway was familiar, you realized it was one in Quantico that you walked down every day to get to the elevator. It took longer than normal to reach the end, and just when you thought you could catch up to Mia-Rose, Hotch stepped out in front of you, holding Spencer with one arm and holding his gun to your best friend’s temple with the other.

“You have to choose, (y/n).”

“Choose what?”

“One of them has to die. Him or her?” he moved his gun to point the barrel at Mia-Rose.

“I don’t understand, why can’t I save them both?”

“One of them has to die.”

It only took you a moment to consider, “me. Shoot me. Let them live.”

“Brave choice,” Hotch’s gun came to point at you and his finger squeezed the trigger.

You woke up.

Soft morning light was coming in through the window and Spencer was already awake, quietly tying his tie while perched on the edge of the bed.

“Morning,” he grinned when he noticed you watching him.

“Morning,” you panted, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“You were dreaming.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hotch made me choose between him shooting Mia-Rose or shooting you.”

“What did you choose?”

“I made him shoot me instead.”

You expected Spencer to launch into an analysis of your dream and what it meant, but instead he asked another question, changing the subject.

“Can we stop for coffee before we walk the dumpsite?” he pulled a blue cardigan out from his go bag and stuck his arms through the sleeves.

“Sure,” you said, stretching as you stood up. While you got ready, Spencer found the nearest place to get coffee, and you stopped there before continuing on to the bridge where Mia-Rose’s body had been found thirty years ago.

“I’m too used to walking active crime scenes,” you murmured when you pulled over to the empty dumpsite. Normally dumpsites like this were taped off with officers present, as well as some news reporters and civilian gawkers. You were sure that it had looked like that when the crime had first happened, but now it was just a bridge that nobody thought about.

When you stepped out of the SUV you noticed a small memorial for Mia-Rose nailed to a tree, wilted and weathered flowers around it. You stopped for a minute to look at it, then continued through the brush to the overpass.

Mia-Rose had fallen off of the bridge onto the ground beneath, where you were standing now. Her death was originally ruled a suicide, which had slowed the investigation until her parents insisted she wasn’t suicidal and had her autopsied, revealing ligature marks and evidence of assault. Just from reading the file, you knew that her parents were right. She didn’t profile as suicidal, and if she was she could have jumped from further down the bridge into the flowing river to your right, not onto the ground where she likely would have survived.

“Mia-Rose was found right here,” you pointed, “and her belongings…” you turned to your left, Spencer moving from behind you to stand where the girl’s school backpack and shoes had been found, a handful of yards away.

“They were found next to this rock.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, facing him from where you stood, “the ME found traces of motor oil on her skin, so she must have been transported in a car. That means the unsub was driving on this road, stopped here by the bridge, then tossed her over the side. Why not just toss her stuff after her?” After thinking in silence for a minute, you started moving. “Stay where you are,” you instructed Spencer as you climbed the embankment. Once you reached the bridge, you stood on the edge so you could see both locations of dump sites.

“Spence,” you called to him, “how long is the average car?”

“Anywhere between 10 and 18 feet, depending on the size of the vehicle,” he answered quickly. You positioned yourself in line with where Mia-Rose’s body was found, then paced out roughly fifteen feet, landing you almost squarely in line with where Spencer was standing down the hill.

“What are you thinking?”

“This might sound kind of out there, but what if there was a partner?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out how you had gotten there. He climbed up to where you were standing before asking you about it, “what makes you think that?”

“Eyewitness accounts said they saw Mia-Rose in a car with a man the night she went missing, and they were both sitting in the front of the car, but that’s about all anyone can agree on. What if there was a second unsub sitting in the back? If I’m the unsub getting Mia-Rose out of the front, you’re taking her stuff out of the trunk and tossing it over the side,” you acted out.

“Which means my DNA should be on her belongings,” Spencer concluded, finishing your thought, “I’ll call the lab and start getting things processed.”

“Good idea, I’m going to call Garcia and then we can head back to the station,” you said, pulling out your own phone as Spencer took a step away to make his call.

“Crimefighter! What have you’ve got?” Garcia answered her phone quickly.

“Hey Penelope, can you go through the list of Mia-Rose’s family members and get me some updated contact info?”

“Of course! Did you get a lead? I knew you could solve this,” she rambled. You could hear the clicking of her keyboard as she multitasked.

“Not quite, just a better understanding of the situation. I want to start interviewing family members to really nail down victimology and see if they know of anyone who fits my profile. Spencer’s calling the lab to get some evidence re-examined. When they send you results can you run them through CODIS?”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now, thanks Garcia.”

“Anytime, my love. I just sent the updated contacts to your tablet. Garcia out!”

Spencer was waiting for you in the SUV, once you finished your call with Garcia you drove back to the station. Detective Reeves assigned an officer to help you call the family members and invite them in for interviews.

“Mrs. Horn, thank you for coming in to talk with us,” you said gently to the elderly woman sitting across from you.

“Anything to help you find my little girl’s killer. Do you really think you can solve it?”

“We’re trying our best. Any information you can give us will make our job easier. Mia-Rose was walking home from school when she went missing, and was later seen getting into a blue car. Is there anyone she would have willingly accepted a ride home from?”

“No, she always walked, rain or shine so she could say hello to the neighbors on her way home. Except for Tuesdays, my brother Dylan would drive her home from band practice on Tuesdays because it was after dark.”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, silently acknowledging that Mia-Rose was abducted on a Friday.

“Did she have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt her, bullies or friends she might have had a falling out with?”

“No, she was sweet to everyone. That’s why it was such a shock to the town when she was killed. There wasn’t a soul who hadn’t been touched by her kindness.” Mrs. Horn spoke so highly of her daughter, further validating your theory.

“Let’s take a break,” you said, noting the way she was tearing up, “excuse us.” You stepped out of the room with Spencer.

“We should talk to Dylan,” he said once you were out of earshot of Mrs. Horn.

“I agree. He was interrogated by police when Mia-Rose first went missing, but I don’t think he’s a suspect. His alibi was rock solid, but he might know something about what happened.”

You had the detective bring in Mrs. Horn’s brother, Dylan Godfrey. While he agreed to an interview, he was much less cooperative than Mrs. Horn.

“I told the police thirty years ago, I had nothing to do with it,” he drawled, “I was at home with my wife, God rest her soul. I didn’t even have my car to kidnap Mia if I wanted to.”

“Where was your car?” Spencer asked quickly.

“My boy had it, out with his friends. He had just gotten his driver’s license. You know how kids are, impossible to control.”

This was the first you were hearing of his son. Nowhere in the records from the original investigation did it say Dylan Godfrey had a son, let alone a son who’s whereabouts were unknown on the night of the crime.

“Mr. Godfrey, let me ask you this. How old was your son the year Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“Eighteen.”

“Do you know where he was that night?”

“Out, like I said. He didn’t come home until after two o’clock in the morning.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Last I knew he was working on a farm just out of town, the McGilroy’s place.”

As soon as Spencer had gotten the information out of him, you were firing off texts to Garcia. She sent you the address of the farm, and you called her once you were en route.

“You’re on speaker, Garcia. What have you found about this guy and why didn’t we know about him before?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. He wasn’t included in any of the original witness statements. I’ve barely been able to find information about him online. I know he’s still alive because I don’t have a death certificate, but other than that no home address, no phone number, no nothing. Everything I know about him is from his childhood, before Mia-Rose went missing.”

“Something is better than nothing, what did you find?”

“Daniel Godfrey, born in 1965 to Mary and Dylan Godfrey. He was a decent kid from what I can tell. He got good grades in school, even got a scholarship to a college in Chicago but he turned it down at the last minute. I’ll hit you back if I figure out why.”

“Thanks Garcia,” you chirped before she hung up. You pulled up the long dirt drive of the McGilroy’s farm, putting the SUV in park and getting out. Spencer was by your side in an instant, you noticed the way his hand rested on his revolver.

“My goal is to get him in for a voluntary interview. If we can get him talking, we can figure out what happened that night and why his known locations on that night fit our timeline. Best case, we get a confession and the name of his partner, worst case, he had nothing to do with it and we’re back where we started.”

Spencer nodded, so you reached up to knock on the door. After a moment, a blonde woman opened the door.

You flashed your credentials, “hi, I’m SSA (y/l/n) with the FBI, we’re looking for Daniel Godfrey and we were told he might be here.”

“He’s out back in the barn,” she said, pointing down a gravel path.

“Thanks so much,” Spencer said as you stepped off the porch. You reached the barn and pushed open the large door, revealing a man inside. He was carrying a bucket of water that he poured into a trough for a horse before acknowledging you.

“What can I do ya for?”

“Are you Daniel Godfrey?” you asked.

“Depend’s who’s asking,” he chuffed, wiping his hands on his dirty coveralls. You held up your credentials.

“I’m Agent (y/l/n) and this is Doctor Reid. We’re with the FBI investigating the murder of your cousin, Mia-Rose Horn. We were hoping you’d come in to the station so we could get some more information about her.”

“What kinda information? Mia’s been dead a long time now.”

You had to play this carefully, one wrong word and he wouldn’t voluntarily interview with you, “your father told us you were out with friends the night she disappeared. We were hoping you could tell us what town was like that night and if you saw anything unusual.”

“You talked to my father? I can tell ya right now, it was quiet. Just like any other night in this town.”

“Great, that’s exactly the kind of information we’re looking for. Would you be able to come with us to the station so we can get that statement through the official channels? While we’re there I’d like to ask you a few more questions, if that’s ok.”

“Are ya saying I’m being arrested?”

“No, not at all. This is completely voluntary.”

Daniel fell silent, considering your offer. When he finally spoke again it was gruff and hostile, “will my old man still be there?”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, hoping he had a better read on what answer would be your best choice. Spencer’s tongue flickered over his lips, then he cautioned a response, “he’s there right now, will that be a problem?”

Daniel looked dejected, scuffing his feet in the hay below his boots, “not unless he makes it a problem.”

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Our car is out front, is there anything you need to do before we go?”

Daniel shook his head and quietly followed you and Spencer back to the SUV. He didn’t say much while you were driving back to the police station, and neither did you. You escorted Daniel inside the station, walking quickly past where his father was sitting, still talking to the officer Reeves had assigned to your case. Dylan stood up when he noticed his son, but Daniel just kept his head down and quickened his pace. You brought him to an interrogation room, a small space with just a table and a couple of chairs.

“You can wait here, we just have to go collect some materials and then we’ll be back, alright?”

“Whatever,” Daniel said, taking the seat closest to the door. You stepped out, shutting the door behind you.

“Did you see the way Dylan reacted when he saw Daniel?” you asked Spencer quietly. He nodded.

“Did you see the way Daniel reacted when he saw Dylan?”

“Do you think it’s relevant to this case? I don’t want to waste time asking about it if it’s just some squabble they had once. Hotch said I could only work this case until we got an active one back at Quantico, and you and I both know serial killers don’t take extended vacations.”

Spencer considered the situation, you could almost see the gears turning in his mind, “it might be a way we can get him comfortable talking to us, irrelevant or not. This is the best lead we have. Just like you said earlier, you have to get him talking.”

You trusted Spencer’s opinion, not just because he was your best friend, but because he had led his fair share of interrogations during his time in the FBI. He was really good at it, his accelerated mind picking up patterns of words and behaviors that you could only be envious of.

“What do you mean ‘I’ have to get him talking? I thought this was a team effort.”

“It is, but you have to lead this interrogation.”

You weren’t surprised at his statement, but you resented the fact that he was right. Your favorite part of your job was the quick thinking, the on-the-fly deductions you had to make in the field that helped you put all of the clues together. You liked helping people and actively putting bad guys away for the greater good of the country you served. You were good at your job, too, having spent so much time developing your skills with arguably some of the best agents in the Bureau. You couldn’t not be good at your job surrounded by minds like the ones at the BAU.

Like everyone though, there were some aspects of your career that you were better at than others. You usually excelled in the takedown and arrests of suspects and left the mind games to your colleagues that were much better equipped to handle them. Sure, you could talk a suspect into putting their weapon down instead of pointing it at you or a victim, but that was a heat of the moment interaction. Cool, collected interrogation rooms just weren’t your strong suit, and nothing during your time at the BAU so far had changed it.

“You really think I can do this?”

“Absolutely. You have the skills, knowledge, and rapport to conduct this interview,” Spencer showed no hesitation in his answer.

“Promise to let me know if I’m going down the wrong rabbit hole?”

Spencer smiled, “of course. Let’s go solve this case.” He handed you a sheet of paper, a form for Daniel to sign with his Miranda rights on it.

Once you were seated across from Daniel, you handed him the paper and read him his rights.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Daniel, what happened between you and your father?”

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between you and Spencer, “what kind of FBI agents are you?”

“We’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. We use psychology to solve crimes. I hope my question wasn’t intrusive, Doctor Reid and I both just noticed the way your behavior changed when you saw your father. He’s been helpful in our investigation and I don’t want any family conflicts to interfere if you’re going to help us too.”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Just a disagreement?” you pressed carefully.

“Just a disagreement.”

“Alright,” you said, deciding to leave it at that and move on. He was giving you too much resistance for the direction you had wanted to take the conversation, so you changed the subject. If his disagreement with his father was relevant to the case, you’d have to get that information out of him another way.

You started off by asking about Mia-Rose and gathering any information Daniel had about her. At first he was reluctant, just explaining that they saw each other during family gatherings and when his father would drive them both home from band practice.

“You went to the same high school then, if you were in band together?”

“Uh huh. It’s a small town, everyone goes to the same school.”

“Can you tell us about who Mia-Rose spent time with? Who were her friends?”

“Everyone was her friend. She was the friendliest kid in school.”

“Who were your friends?” Spencer asked, tilting his head. It wasn’t a question you had thought to ask, but as soon as he did you saw where he was going.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” Spencer answered.

“Alec Krause, Markus Sparrow, Nicolas Rush,” Daniel listed.

“Where are they now?” you asked while Spencer pulled out his phone, presumably to text Garcia for a background check, “are you still in contact with them?”

“They all moved out of town for college. Haven’t seen or talked to ‘em since,” Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“You were supposed to go to college, in Chicago, right?” you prompted. Daniel’s eyes flickered between you and Spencer, probably wondering how much about him you knew.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Got a job at the farm,” he shrugged.

“Daniel, I’m going to be real with you,” you squared up, “I’ve seen plenty of small towns in this job. I’ve talked to many people from small towns just like this one, and almost all of them in your position would have taken the out. They would have moved to the city as soon as they got the chance, so why didn’t you? Why did you choose to stay in this town?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Daniel was quick to correct you.

“You didn’t?” Now you were on to something.

“The disagreement I had with my father was about me leaving. He wouldn’t let me leave, so he got me the job at the farm.”

“Alright, let’s take a break,” you said, standing up and stepping out of the room. Spencer exchanged a few words with Daniel, then followed you out.

“That was big,” you panted, trying to shake out the jump of adrenaline that you were feeling.

“You’re doing great,” Spencer confirmed.

“When Dylan was talking about his son earlier, during his interview, it seemed like he didn’t have control over Daniel. What was it he said, ‘you know how kids are’? Something must have changed to make Daniel listen to his father telling him to stay, something that changed after Mia-Rose was murdered.”

Right before you were going to go back into the interrogation room, your phone rang. Hotch’s name lit up the screen.

“Hold on, Spence. (y/l/n),” you answered, praying that Hotch wasn’t going to tell you to abandon the case and get back to Quantico right when you were making strides.

“I’m just checking in to see how things are going.”

“We’re talking to a person of interest right now, it’s just very slow going. We think he had been working with a partner when the murder took place, but he’s not giving up names,” you explained, “please don’t tell me we have a case that we have to come back for, we just got a break that might open this case up for us.”

Hotch chuckled on the other end of the line, “no, we don’t have a case. Garcia told me you had a lead and I was curious.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how you were a prosecutor before joining the BAU. This is exhausting, and every time I say something I feel like he’s going to invoke.”

“You’re doing fine,” Spencer whispered reassuringly.

“Spencer says I’m doing fine,” you relayed to Hotch.

“I’m sure you are. Sometimes unsubs like this take time to crack,” he reminded you.

“It’s already been thirty years, I’d like to close it now,” you decided, squaring your shoulders. “I’m going to go back in there and wrap this up. I’ll call you back when we’re done.” You hung up with Hotch, then turned to Spencer. “Let’s do this.”

Daniel seemed to tense up when you walked back in, sitting down across the table from him once again.

“Thanks for being patient, Daniel. I’d like to know why your father wouldn’t let you leave town. From what he told us, he gave you a lot of freedom in high school. What happened?”

“We had a disagreement, like I said.”

“Right, we’ve covered that. It must have been hard going from being able to do whatever you wanted to working a farm job under your father’s thumb. I was hoping you could tell us exactly what kind of disagreement. Was it because Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel nodded, “ok, that’s a start. Was there a specific reason beyond Mia-Rose’s murder?”

Your tactic was deliberate, validating his feelings before pressing harder in hopes that he would give something up.

“He didn’t want me getting into more trouble.”

“More trouble? As in, you got into trouble here first?”

“Correct.”

“We don’t have any police records for you, Mr. Godfrey. Usually that’s the kind of ‘trouble’ that stops kids from going to college,” Spencer chimed in.

“The police don’t know I was there.”

“Where?” Your question was burning hot, and you watched Daniel squirm as he realized he had dug himself into a hole.

“I was in the car.”

“Which car?” you hoped he meant the car you thought he did, but you needed a true confession.

“My father’s car…” you chose not to say anything and instead let him sit in uncomfortable silence, “the night Mia was killed.”

“With her? Was Mia in the car with you?”

“Yes, she was.”

You had to maintain your composure, even though your insides were doing cartwheels out of excitement. This was exactly the kind of lead you were looking for, you couldn’t blow it now.

“Your father said you were out with friends, were any of the people you mentioned earlier with you? Alec, Markus, and Nicholas?”

“No, it wasn’t with them.”

“Who else was in the car then, Daniel? It wasn’t just you and Mia-Rose.”

“I don’t remember,” he started backpedaling, a clear sign that you were closing in.

“We’re going to step out and give you some time to think about it, see if you can try to remember,” Spencer interrupted before you could say anything, nodding towards the door when you made eye contact with him. You followed him out, turning to him abruptly once the door was shut behind you.

“I was getting somewhere with him.” You were fired up, to say the least. Now that you were in the comfortable privacy of Spencer’s company, you could let your emotions come forward.

“I know, I know,” Spencer smirked, “Garcia got a hit with Daniel’s friends, we should call and see what she has so we have more leverage when we go back in there.”

You took a deep breath, pulling out your phone and calling Garcia.

“Boy Wonder got my text!” she answered after the first ring.

“What did you find, Garcia? We’re really making strides here and anything you’ve got could really close this for us.”

“I ran the names of Daniel’s friends, like you asked. Almost all of them checked out, normal guys with normal lives.”

“Almost all of them?” you caught the specificity of her words.

“Right. One of them, Markus, he checks out too… but his brother, oh my his brother has done some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Spencer asked, brows furrowed in thought.

“Kyle Sparrow. When he was 11 he attempted to rob a bank, and not just as a joke. When he was 14 he was suspended from school after locking students in storage closets. He’s been in and out of jail his whole adult life. He got out a year ago and hasn’t been back since.”

“That fits our profile. How old was he when Mia-Rose was killed?” Spencer followed up.

“That’s where things get weird, I was hoping you guys would have a good explanation because this really doesn’t make sense.”

“Garcia,” you called, refocusing her.

“Right. Kyle Sparrow was 10 years old when Mia-Rose was murdered.”

“What?” you whipped around to look at Spencer incredulously, hoping he would have some kind of information about child serial killers that would clarify the situation. Instead, he just frowned and shook his head. You had to decide if it was worth bringing up to Daniel and risk wasting precious time. You considered for a moment, then spoke. “Send us his address, we’re going to ask Daniel about him. If he seems like a viable lead then we’ll head out there. Thanks Garcia.”

“Done and done. You’ve got this, crimefighters!”

“Are you ready to go back in there?” Spencer asked when you reached for the interrogation room door handle.

“Do I have a choice? This case just took a turn that I wasn’t expecting.”

“It’s been four hours and thirty six minutes. We can take another minute to get coffee if you need a longer break,” he suggested.

“I’m too close to cracking this. I can feel it,” you confessed. Spencer nodded, acknowledging that your gut feelings were usually right. You opened the door, sitting back down across from Daniel. Spencer stood in the corner behind you, hands in his pockets.

“Did you remember who was in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel shook his head. “Ok, that’s fine. I have some names that we’ve collected as people of interest for this case. I’m going to read them off and you tell me if one sounds familiar, ok?” Daniel nodded, so you opened your file and pulled out a blank piece of paper, holding it so Daniel couldn’t see the lack of information on your side.

“Emily Prentiss.”

He shook his head.

“Derek Morgan.”

Again, nothing.

“Penelope Garcia.”

Your list was intentional, listing people you were certain Daniel wouldn’t know so you could get a baseline for his behavior. It paid off when you listed the next name, “Kyle Sparrow.”

You could practically see Daniel tense up. Though he shook his head, his leg started bouncing nervously and his eyes were flickering frantically around the room, looking anywhere but at you and Spencer.

“Daniel,” you started, keeping your voice low, “remember when I told you Doctor Reid and I use psychology and behavior to solve crimes? You may not have noticed it, but your behavior shifted when you heard Kyle’s name. You know something about him, don’t you? Was he in the car with you that night?”

Daniel finally looked up at you, eyes watering, “I’m not a criminal.”

“I didn’t say you were. Was Kyle in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“He was just a kid, my best friend’s little brother. We were out in my dad’s car, I had just gotten my license so I skipped class and took Markus and Alec for a spin around town. When I dropped them off back home Kyle said he was lookin’ to go across town to the library so I offered him a ride. I even made him sit in the back because he was still just a small kid. Then we saw Mia walking home. It always took her longer because she stopped to say hi to everyone she passed. Kyle suggested we offer her a ride too, so I did.

“It all happened so fast, first she was getting into the car and then Kyle had a knife at her throat. He told me he’d kill her if I didn’t do what he wanted. He made me drive out of town to the woods and watch as he tied her up and did horrible, horrible things to her. I didn’t even know a kid was capable of doing those things. When he was done with her he made me help put her back in the car and drive to the bridge. She wasn’t dead when he made me push her over the edge, that’s why I didn’t throw her in the river. I thought she’d survive it without Kyle knowing because he was too busy getting rid of her stuff in the trunk. He still made me drop him off at the library after, even though it was closed on account of it being real late at night, and swear that I’d never tell anyone what we did or he’d kill me too.”

“How did your father find out?” you asked.

“He found blood in the car the next morning. I told him it was from Markus, that he had gotten scratched up while we were messing around in the afternoon. He made me clean it out with bleach, told me I’d have to learn responsibility if I wanted to move out. When my auntie called him later and told him about Mia being missing, he connected the dots. He told me he didn’t want to know what I had been doing the night before, but if I tried to move away it would make me a suspect. He got me the job at the farm and I’ve been there ever since.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Daniel. We’ll tell the court how cooperative you’ve been, they might ease your sentence because of it.”

“The court? What?” Pure fear crossed Daniel’s face. It didn’t sit right with you that he had to be arrested, knowing he had been coerced into helping murder his cousin, but he had still committed a felony. You had to let the court decide his fate.

“Daniel Godfrey, you’re under arrest for accessory to the murder of Mia-Rose Horn,” Spencer moved behind Daniel, taking his hands to cuff them. As soon as he was done Daniel was passed off to an officer and you and Spencer took off, SUV keys in hand.

You sped towards the home address Garcia had sent you for Kyle Sparrow, wishing the rest of the team was there so you could split up in case he was at work. This part of your job was where you felt the most comfortable, the tactical side of an arrest that was more physical than the mind games you had just played in the interrogation room. It was just starting to rain, a light drizzle that darkened the skies as you drove to what you hoped was your final location for this case.

“Is there Kevlar in the back?” you asked, realizing you hadn’t gotten vests from the police station before you had left. Spencer turned around in his seat, checking around the vehicle.

“Nope.”

“Great,” you sighed, “let’s try not to get shot at then, alright?”

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer agreed.

You pulled up to Kyle’s house, which was more of a rundown shack on the outskirts of town. You drew your weapon as soon as your boots were on the ground, approaching the door cautiously.

“Where’s Morgan when you need him,” you mumbled, hoping you wouldn’t have to kick the door down, “Kyle Sparrow, FBI,” you announced, knocking on the door. A gunshot flew through the window next to you, shattering the glass. That was all the invitation you needed to bust open the door, but Kyle wasn’t in the room inside. You moved quickly through the maze of rooms, taking one side while Spencer took the other.

“Clear,” you called every time you ensured a room was empty. You heard Spencer clear a couple of spaces, then fall silent. You worked your way to the kitchen, finding him in a standoff with Kyle.

“I’m not going to jail again. You can’t make me,” Kyle seemed unreasonably calm, grinning slightly to himself while he pointed a pistol at Spencer.

“You’re wanted for the murder of Mia-Rose, Kyle. There’s no way to get out of this one,” you had to keep things simple for him and talk him down as quickly as possible before he shot at you again, “let’s just talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to jail for a person I killed thirty years ago.”

“There’s no other option. We know it was you, this ends here.”

“If I have to go back, it has to be for something better. You’re right, this ends here, but not because I killed Mia-Rose Horn.”

“How does it end, Kyle?” Spencer asked. You noticed the glint in Kyle’s eye, giving you a split second to push Spencer out of the way and get hit with a searing pain in your side. You heard Spencer’s revolver fire as you hit the floor.

“Get him first,” you grunted, putting a hand on your side to try to stem the bleeding. Spencer crouched next to you, worried eyes looking you over before he pulled your handcuffs out of your pocket. Your ears were ringing, but you could just make out the sounds of Spencer talking before you blacked out.

You woke up in the hospital, an all too familiar experience. Spencer was beside you, nose in a book. You weren’t sure how much he was paying attention to it though, considering the way his brows were furrowed and his fingers were tapping against the cover. He was lost in thought somewhere, you just didn’t know where.

“Spence,” you managed to croak through your dry throat. His eyes shot up from the page, lips turning up in a small smile when his gaze met yours.

“Hi,” he practically whispered.

“Is Kyle dead?”

Spencer hesitated, no doubt weighing the value of telling you the outcome now or waiting until you were better rested. He chose the former, shaking his head.

“I did what you would have done and shot him in the hip. He’s not dead, and once he’s healed he’ll go to trial. You did it, (y/n). You solved the case.”

“We solved the case. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You also wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“So?” you shrugged, “I lived. Where’s Garcia? Usually she’s the first one at the hospital.”

Spencer’s smile returned, “she wanted to but a case came in right right after you went into surgery. She sends her love and said she’d make up for not being here when we get back to Quantico.”

“A case? We should get back to help,” though you were exhausted, you brain immediately went into profiling mode.

“No, you’re going to stay here and rest. You should be staying for longer than you’re going to, but I was able to convince your doctor that I was more than capable of making sure you got home safely.”

“I didn’t realize you were a rule-breaker,” you teased, feeling your eyelids droop.

“I’m not, I just thought you would want to go home as soon as possible. You’re not the kind of person who likes being away from their family, and we’ve already been gone three days. Staying here doing nothing, although it would be good for you, would just torment you more.”

“Thanks, Spence,” you murmured, falling back to sleep. You dozed on and off for the better part of the day, Spencer staying by your side the whole time. Towards the end of the afternoon, you woke up to his seat vacant. The immediate panic you felt was squashed by calculated thoughts, he’s probably getting food or in the bathroom. You fought to stay awake while you waited for him to come back. He surprised you by returning with someone behind him.

“Mrs. Horn wanted to talk to you, if you’re feeling up for it,” he said, resuming his position in the chair next to you. You nodded, watching the older woman enter the room from where she had been standing in the doorway.

“I wanted to thank you for finding my daughter’s killer, even though it put you in the line of danger.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” you reassured her, sitting up a little against your pillows.

“I wish her father could have been here to see it solved. He always told me not to lose faith, that a blessing would come our way. You were our blessing,” she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I was just doing my job, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to figure this out.”

Mrs. Horn tutted, telling you she was just glad that her daughter could rest in peace now. Before she left, she made sure to tell you that if you were ever in Illinois you and Spencer were welcome to come over for dinner, and that she hoped you got better quickly so you could go help other victims.

Once she was gone, your doctor came in to follow up with you. You had been shot in the side, the bullet passing through and exiting out of your back without hitting any major organs. Spencer did most of the talking for you, asking questions you couldn’t make sense of and checking over your chart for what was probably the hundredth time that day.

“You seem to be healing well and have a… knowledgable… support system, so I’m going to clear you for discharge. If anything changes you’ll need to go into the nearest hospital, ok?”

“Yes ma’am,” you answered. A nurse came in later with your discharge papers, which you signed before Spencer helped you in a wheelchair and out to where the SUV was parked.

“Are you sure you want to drive in this rain? I can-“ you winced in pain, hand flying to your side, “I can do it if you don’t feel comfortable.” Spencer stifled a laugh, reaching his hands out to give you something to brace yourself against as you moved from the wheelchair the SUV.

“I don’t mind driving,” he said simply.

“Yes you do,” you quipped quickly, exhaling as you settled into the passenger seat.

“Ok, yes. Under normal circumstances, I do mind driving, but I think I can make an exception when my favorite driver has been shot.”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” you smirked, still struggling to breathe in a way that would make your side hurt less.

“Are you warm enough?” Spencer fiddled with the heating knobs once he was settled behind the wheel. You nodded, but the shiver that ran down your body betrayed you.

“You’re the one driving. I want you to be comfortable,” you mumbled.

“You’re the one who just got shot. Here,” he reached behind him into the back where both of your go bags were stored. He unzipped his own and pulled out a cardigan, then leaned over the console to drape it across you. “The wool will help you retain heat.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, relishing in the comfort of his gesture.

“You didn’t have to take that bullet for me.”

“I did. I pulled you into this mess, I wasn’t going to let you get hurt because of it.”

“Hotch sent me with you so that you wouldn’t get yourself hurt,” he rebutted.

You brushed him off, “I’ve been shot before, I’m going to be fine.”

“I’ve also been shot before, you didn’t have to push me out of the way.”

You were quick to counter, “you didn’t have to push Blake out of the way either.”

It was an unnecessary squabble, a fact you both caught onto quickly once you realized the direction the conversation was going. Instead, Spencer changed the subject to explain the history of the small towns you were passing through on your way to the interstate.

Miraculously, once the car was comfortably cruising on the highway, Spencer fell silent. You suspected it had to do with his intense concentration on driving in the elements as the rain got harder, though he also could have been giving you the space to sleep if you needed to.

It wasn’t until you were over an hour into your journey that he spoke again, after a quick glance at you revealed fresh tear tracks down your cheeks under the passing street lights.

“(Y/n), are you crying?” His question was so soft you almost missed it, “is it the pain? You’re not due to take your meds for another three hours but I know you have ibuprofen in your bag that would be ok to take now. I can pull over-“ his hand was about to move back to the steering wheel from where it had come to rest on the console, but you reached out to grab it instead.

You and Spencer didn’t really ‘do’ physical contact. You both had reasons not to, instead finding comfort just in proximity. As long as he was around, you were happy. This time, though, it was different. Maybe it was because you were touch starved, or because you had just been poked and prodded at all angles while in the hospital. Whatever the reason, the light grip you had on Spencer’s hand to stop him from pulling over was enough to make you feel the tiniest bit better. He was there with you, he was real.

“It’s not the pain,” you managed to hold your composure, knowing that letting any kind of sob escape the confines of your soul would only physically hurt you more.

“Are you tired? I drank enough coffee to get us home by morning but if you really need to sleep we can find a hotel somewhere. There are three off the next exit.”

“Spencer,” you ran your thumb over the prominent vein in his hand, “it isn’t something you can fix.”

“What do you mean?” He was puzzled, and by the way his hands were twitching you could tell he was deciding whether or not to stop the car anyways.

“There are hundreds of thousands of cold cases. Hundreds of thousands of families that don’t have closure. Hundreds of thousands of victims that haven’t gotten justice.”

“There’s one less because of you. You made a difference to Mia-Rose’s family, you got her the justice she deserves.”

“She deserved justice thirty years ago. I feel like the system failed her, the very system I work for. She was just a kid, and the answer was right there the whole time. Why did I have to be the one to figure it out, thirty years too late?”

Spencer’s response was soft and gentle, “because you’re exceptional, (y/n).”

“I didn’t have to be exceptional to solve this case, though. That’s what I’ve learned from all of the cold case documentaries I’ve watched. The ones that get solved are because someone knew what happened and didn’t come forward about it until years later. There was a psychopathic kid on the streets for thirty years because the police didn’t think to talk to Daniel Godfrey.”

“We can’t change what happened in the past, but we can make a difference in our futures.”

“I’m just so tired, Spence. I chose this job, I love this job, but it’s exhausting.”

“Then rest, (y/n). It’s ok if the only person you save some days is yourself.”

He was right, of course. You wanted to keep saving others, but you couldn’t do that if you didn't make time to save yourself too. You finally closed your eyes and pulled his cardigan up to your chin. Though you were still conscious, limiting your sensory input helped calm you down enough that you found yourself flitting in and out of dissociation. Even when Spencer’s hand gently moved out from under yours to answer his phone, you kept your eyes closed.

“Hey JJ,” his voice was quiet, barely audible over the rain pounding against the windshield, “they’re doing ok.” He paused while he listened to JJ’s response. “No, they keep reminding me that it’s not the first time they’ve been shot. I’m worried about them though.” He trailed off.

“They’ve been shouldering this burden of over 185,000 cold cases since we started working on this one, and now that it’s solved they’re finally feeling the weight of it. I don’t want them to drive themselves crazy trying to solve all of them on their own. We deal with enough active cases as it is.”

Though you were barely in a state of mind to process his words, he had hit the nail right on the head.

“How is the case you’re working on?” You presumed JJ was filling him in on what they knew, “have Garcia look into large purchases of triacetone triperoxide… Call me if anything changes. We should be back by morning.”

“Yes,” his change in tone indicated that JJ had asked him a question, “that would be great, JJ. Thank you so much.”

He must have hung up with JJ because his hand found yours again, fingers just barely touching. It was a simple action, loaded with a lot of meaning. Spencer was your best friend, and would always be your best friend. Bullets, cold cases, marriages, there was nothing that could break the bond you had with him.

You didn’t understand why people called their significant others their “better half”. It insinuated that you weren’t a whole person to begin with, a fractured existence that only found completion by the means of someone else. The idea that your life couldn’t be fulfilling until someone else made it whole was a concept that was set up for failure and self-loathing.

Instead, you believed that you were a whole person who could live a fulfilling life without the necessity of another. Instead, you surrounded yourself with people who lifted you up and helped you achieve your goals without being the direct cause of your success. Instead, you followed your dreams and somehow found Spencer Reid along the way.

Spencer was your best friend, your confidant, the one person who you knew you couldn’t live without, but he was not your other half. He was his own whole person, a mirror image of your own being. You found solace in his companionship, safety in the complexities of his brain. When the stress of your job got to be too much, you could reliably turn to each other and exist in the little slice of the world you called yours for a moment.

No, he was not your other half. He wasn’t even yours, for that matter, but he was there. He was there in a capacity that nobody else could achieve.

This is part of my GALAXY universe! If you liked this relationship, check out the MASTERLIST for more content!

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection  @thatsonezesty13  @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @bazzleslynn @tj-drinks-tea @willa-wonky @eddiesbifocals @tee-mbrown @reniescarlett @bone-hurty-bitch @messyacademia

[shadyteacup]

May I ask a scenario with ADA dazai who falls for an agency member and she's really strong both mentally and physically and is loved by everyone in the agency? She also used to be a soldier in that war so she has seen plenty of things and she's not afraid of dark thing etc... Hope I wasn't so demanding have a nice day (forgive me for my English)

Heyyyy :>

This was such a good ask, I went all out and wrote a bit too much. So I'll be posting it as two parts. :)

And don't worry, love, you're English is immaculate!

Do lemme know if you like this... I'll probably be posting part two tmrw or in some hours... I just need to do one final touch up :D

Partners (part 1)

Dazai x gn! Reader

Tw: Lots of action and fighting, a little blood, implied death.

If u can handle bsd fight scenes, then u can read this... dw, it's not gory or too violent..

"I have your back, go!", you say as you shoot at the enemy hiding behind the car.

"Got it!", Dazai says, as he jogs to the adjacent safe place.

You two were assigned a job, one that you had initially thought was a simple task: Find the missing girl.

You hadn't expected any foul play. Apparently, the girl in pursuit wasn't kidnapped. She had run away from her home. She had a record of disappearing out of the blue, so you had figured she was just taking some time away from her family, like she usually does. The parents approached the ada when the police were unable to find her. So you guys concluded that she was kidnapped. There had been no calls for any ransom, so you chalked up the possibility of her kidnapper being a sex offender, a sadist, or a cult member. You knew you had to act quick before he hurt her. You and Dazai had worked together to collect all the breadcrumbs, and had triangulated the location of a criminal who had just gotten out of prison. He had served 6 years for various sexual assaults and rapes. You had concluded that this must be his doing. It was too much of a coincidence for a girl to get kidnapped just one week after a criminal had been released.

You both had walked right into the enemie's trap.

The man, Ito Sōta, held the girl at gun point at the center of an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse belonged to a small criminal group. He must have joined this group after being released.

The group, a small organization in need of monetary support, wanted to impress the mafia. They had arranged for this ploy to defeat a few members of the ada and hopefully get in the mafia's goodbooks.

They had used Ito's criminal record to lure the ada into the warehouse, and rain fire upon them, hoping to defeat them.

"That's the most logical explanation", Dazai had said, when you two had been ambushed by ten or so men and their many bullets.

Dazai hid behind a cargo container.

"We have to move fast. I manged to neutralize them, but I'm pretty sure there are more on the way, and some more protecting Ito.", you say, leaning against the box.

Dazai hummed.

"So, what's the plan?"

He thought for a second, then said,

"You are good at combat, so why don't you take them on, and clear a path for me.."

" I see.. I distract while you sneak an attack on Ito."

"Exactly."

You change the magazine of your glock,inserting a fresh one.

"Sounds good."

At your count, you began running towards the guards ahead. You had a shielding ability, allowing you to shield yourself from bullets, fire explosions, and prevent it from touching you. Ofcourse, you couldn't control heat, so if you were to be near an explosion, while the fire wouldn't burn your skin, the heat radiating from it would definitely hurt you.

Your ability only worked when you activated it. It wasn't always activated, and would take quite a lot of your energy if you kept it on at all times.

A few men had noticed you, and had started shooting you. The bullets bounced off your shield, falling to the ground. You continued charging towards the center, aiming at the men that were in Dazai's path. Taking them down was easy enough; they were just meat and bones that could shoot, and desperately lacked a brain. If bullets don't work, shouldn't they try hand to hand combat? But no. These idiots were so hopelessly dumb, that they kept shooting you, standing tall and proud, and presenting themselves as easy targets for your bullets.

'Well, it works for me... so keep being stupid, guys!' You thought as you shot a majority of them down.

Dazai hid behind the containers, jogging over to the center. He handled a few men that were in his way, as you cleared almost all of them for him.

Soon enough, you approached a man and two women, clad in suits, that charged at you with an assortment of weapons. They dodged your bullets, and tried to attack you.

'These guys are smart'

The first bulky guy swung his dagger at you. You dodged; the knife brushing past your cheek in the process. It was OK, you were a master in martial arts, afterall. Taking them down wouldn't be so difficult.

You grabbed his arm, jumping off the ground and twisting your torso midway to land behind him. His arm was now twisted, and you swiped at his legs, resulting in him falling to the ground. You swiped the dagger from his palm, stabbing him in the knees and his dominant arm. The spots you had targeted were sensitive points, that paralyzed his limbs.

Moving on to the woman charging at you with a club, you threw the dagger at her. She twisted to dodge it. The dagger plunged in her shoulder. She cried out in pain. You had tricked her by throwing your own dagger a split second later, aiming in the direction of her reflex duck.

The other woman had used her partners as a distraction to sneak up behind you. She held a thick metal chain, that she wound around your neck, choking you. You tried prying it off, but she was too powerful. So you slammed back into her, your head hitting her nose, pushing her back and effectively loosening her grip on the chain. Grabbing the front, you slipped your fingers between the chain and your neck, crating some space to breathe. You then yanked it forward, bruising your neck in the process. Slipping out from the chain, you wound it on your palm, halving it. You used it as a whip on the woman, drawing blood from her nose. She dodged your next swing, punching you in the gut. She was really strong, that's for sure. You spit out blood from the impact. You were about to stab her when a bullet hit her head.

"Thanks.", you say to Dazai, who had shot her from his position; very close to Ito.

He nodded, continuing his journey towards the girl.

Fighting your way through, you finally reached Ito. You stood right opposite him.

"Well done! You successfully defeated fifty of my men!"

He said, pressing the gun against the girl's temple. He wanted to play a game with you. He wanted to make you choose whom he should kill; the girl, or you.

"But, alas, you won't be able to save her."

Ito felt a cool sensation on his head, and heard a click of a gun right behind him.

You smirked.

"You sure about that?"

He grit his teeth, raising his arms in defeat.

Dazai pushed him on the ground, handcuffing him.

"It was quite a smart plan. It wasn't elaborate, though. Such a pitiful organization you have. No wonder you're desperate for the Mafia's attention."

Dazai said.

"Did you really believe you could trick the armed detective agency?"

He glared down at the man, his face adorning a menacing look.

"If the mafia hears about this, you will be dead before you can even think of the word 'escape'. Whoever breaks the peace between the Mafia and the A.D.A, will have hell to pay."

You scoffed.

"If you had half a brain, you would know to never mess with the two organizations. Did you really think you could use us?" You laughed.

"How naive!"

You heard a whimper.

You looked at the girl, noticing her fearful expression. You deactivated your ability, now that the job was done. The girl whimpered again, but it sounded abnormal. It sounded artificial. Something didn't feel right.

"Hey, it's alright now. You're safe."

You say to the girl. She looks at you with wide eyes.

"It's all under control. We're here to take you back home. This guy can't hurt you anymore."

You move closer to her, crouching down to her level.

"Tell me. Did he hurt you?"

You place a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

She stared at you for a second, then grinned. All the fear had vanished from her eyes. They now held a malicious gleam.

"You fell right in!"

She cackled.

"Right in the rabbit hole!"

She giggled, snapping her fingers.

All you heard was a sharp sound. A ringing in your ears. And a scream. Was that Dazai? Or was it you? Who knows.

You look down to your torso, and notice a dark red stain on your shirt.

Suddenly, you felt it. The pain was overwhelming. You had been shot before; you were a part of a war, afterall. But it was always in the shoulder, or limbs. This was your first time getting hit on the torso. You had probably broken a rib or two. You could feel your lungs being filled with something. It felt heavy.

Blood? Yeah probably. You couldn't think straight. You remember feeling tired. You didn't even register your knees giving away, or the pair of strong arms that caught you right before you fell.

[yoontopia]

𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: detective au; fluff, a smidgen of angst, childhood friends to lovers

rating: 18+ (mentions of assault, domestic abuse and suicide; minor character death, serial killers are mentioned, minor mention of alcohol and weapons, most likely an inaccurate portrayal of policework)

word count: 7.7k

summary: when a case forces you to re-visit your hometown, you’re also forced to re-visit your past and one particular jeon jungkook, your childhood friend, and the man you’d fallen in love with -- while he’d been been engaged to someone else.

author’s note: whew this is me coming back to writing for the first time in a WHILE.  happy (belated) birthday jungkook! I’m sorry for being 8 days late T_T

The first thing you do when you get into work is make coffee. The lieutenant has recently invested in a rather pricey looking coffee machine after giving the entire team a loud and exasperated lecture about “leaving the precinct to take too many coffee breaks”. You can’t say that you complain about this new arrangement.

The second thing you do when you get into work is check the files on your desk. It is when you’re rifling through these, a mug of steaming black liquid next to you, that your partner slaps another folder on your desk.

“What is this?” you ask, looking up at his tired demeanour. Min Yoongi is an excellent detective, but talent and success come at a price. You don’t think the man has ever gotten a good night’s rest.

“A 16-year old girl found murdered by the piers in Busan,” Yoongi says, pulling the chair from the empty desk next to you and subsequently collapsing in it. “The fishermen found her early this morning.”

“Busan?” you ask, the name of your hometown heavy on your tongue. “What business does that have with the Seoul Major Crimes Unit?”

“It becomes our business when you see how she was killed.” Yoongi states, leaning forward and flipping open the file for you. You look down at the medical examiner’s report, light finally shedding on your situation.

“Legs and hands tied with plastic cable ties, throat slashed, face carved into a permanent mangled grin – its Him. The age and description of the girl match with his previous victims and Busan PD asked us to come down since we’re handling The Joker’s case.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “What did I tell you about enabling him?” Yoongi shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

You stare back down at the photos of the crime scene, your brain trying to piece together the information. This particular serial killer – nicknamed The Joker by the general public for the way he dismembered his victims’ faces – had been at large for a couple years now and had murdered five young girls. Well, you muse, the count is up to six now.

“He’s never struck outside Seoul before,” you murmur. In your periphery, Yoongi nods, taking a sip out of his own coffee. “This is so out of his way. Are we sure its not a copycat?”

“I considered that,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “The lead detectives in charge of this case want us to check it out and see if we can figure out of it’s the real deal. If it is The Joker, the case is ours anyway.”

“I know some cops in Busan,” you say, closing the file. You had grown up there and worked there before transferring. “Who’s in charge?” Yoongi stares at you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper with names scribbled on it.

“Let’s see—the man who called this morning – a Kim Taehyung – do you know him?” You blink.

“Yeah, we-we went to college together,” you say, your voice suddenly hushed.

“Aw that’s cute, a little reunion,” Yoongi grins but then studies your expression. “Is it not a happy occasion?”

“No no,” you laugh weakly. “Taehyung is fine – great actually! He’s good at what he does too. I’m grateful he’s in charge of this one.”

“Great, we leave tomorrow first thing,” Yoongi says, electing to ignore your high voice and nervousness. “I got us KTX tickets for the first train out.”

You nod, swallowing. Kim Taehyung isn’t the problem, it’s who he’s partners with that has your stomach in knots.

Your train pulls into Busan at a very early hour that even coffee can’t fix. You heave your duffel bag over your shoulder and wait for Yoongi to grab his before stepping off onto the platform. Yawning, you look around.

The dawn has left behind a slight fog around the city and the morning October air has a slight chill in it. You haven’t been back in Busan since the day you left, some two years ago. Your parents had moved to Seoul recently, taking with them the only reason you’d ever have to visit this seaside city.

Yoongi hops off the train next to you and looks around. He’s a Daegu native, but knows this city like the back of his hand.

“I booked us a hotel near the crime scene,” is the first thing he says.

“That’s not morbid at all,” you chuckle, and he rolls his eyes. “But first I’m guessing we head straight to the precinct?” Yoongi nods and the two of you opt to share a cab instead of taking the public transport.

Before you know it, you’re getting off at the police department. Two officers at the entrance have been alerted of your arrival and show you the way. Yoongi shoots you a surprised look, but you grin back. Busan has always been known for its friendly and amicable citizens.

When you enter what is obviously the homicide department, Taehyung is the first person you see. He shouts your name from across the room, turning several heads, and bounces towards you like a golden retriever reunited with its long-lost owner.

“That is Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi asks and you’re not sure if he’s impressed or disappointed.

“Its so good to see you!” he says, a boxy grin painting his face. You take him in. Taehyung hasn’t changed much since college, but the dyed blonde hair he used to sport when he was younger has now been swapped for his natural black curls, which bounce every time he walks. “And you must be Detective Min, we spoke on the phone”

“Ah—yes,” Yoongi utters, thoroughly thrown off. You hide a smile.

“Come in, come in! Ah you can leave your bags by my desk for now.” The two of you do as you’re told, and Taehyung then leads you to a small conference room which holds a projector screen, a small round table, and a few chairs.

“I assume you’ve read the case file?” he asks and when you nod, he continues. “We haven’t had anything quite like this before – at least not during my career. I realize the two of you are the leads on The Joker right now, so any help you’re willing to provide is appreciated really.”

“Any new developments?” you ask, pulling out the file from your backpack. Taehyung hums before sitting down across from you.

“The toxicology report came back right as you arrived, I got a text from my partner,” Taehyung says, and you try to keep a straight face. “He’s over there right now he should be here soon, by the way,” You’re thankful that he doesn’t dwell on the topic for too long, most likely out of respect for you. “They found morphine in her system, so we’re inclined to believe that she was drugged before being tied up and killed. Your raise your eyebrows at this piece of information.

“The Joker doesn’t drug his victims.” You state. “They’re all very much awake when he ties them up and slashes their throats. The carved smile is always scratched in post-mortem.”

“Well there are inconsistencies then,” Taehyung says, running a hand through his hair. “All the wounds here were caused after he actually killed her – and that includes… whatever he did to her face.”

“So, we’re looking at a copycat.” You state.

“Or he’s changed his MO.” Yoongi adds.

“He hasn’t changed it for his first five victims what was special about this one that he had to drug her to knock her out first? No, this sounds like someone plotting murder and covering it up. Either way let’s explore all avenues.” You say.

“I agree,” comes a voice from behind you and you almost jump out of your seat. You turn to see the very person you’d been dreading running into since stepping foot on the platform this morning. Jeon Jungkook walks in, two cups in his hands, setting one down in front of Taehyung. He leans over to shake hands with Yoongi, giving you a mere side-glance. He sits down across from the two of you and takes a sip of his drink. Distractedly, you wonder if its coffee – as far as you know he was never a big fan.

The again, you muse, you’re not sure you really know him anymore.

There’s an awkward sort of silence and Yoongi’s body language tells you he’s noticed something’s off. Taehyung clears his throat.

“I’m assuming the two of you will want to check the crime scene out?”

“And the body.” You add. Taehyung nods and stands up.

“Do you want to split up or do both together?” You look at Yoongi.

“Together,” the two of you say at the same time. Yoongi’s smiling. You smile back.

Getting into the back of Taehyung’s sleek black SUV, you watch Yoongi jump in from the other side, dark hair slightly tousled from trying to get some sleep on the train. He’d been your partner for the entirety of your career with the Seoul PD. The two of you had started as rookie cops and had spent the first few months catching small-time criminals. Yoongi was easy to work with, and you’d found a fast friend in him, being alone in a big, unfamiliar city. You closed cases like no one else and before you knew it, the two of you were promoted to Major Crimes as detectives. The Joker was one of your first cases and it was a real thorn in your side that you hadn’t managed to catch the bastard yet.

Jungkook gets in the passenger seat next to Taehyung. He hasn’t so much as addressed you yet, except for agreeing with your previous statement. You had expected as much. He’s still sipping on his drink. Taehyung is talking to one of the officers by the main gate and you take this time to really take in Jungkook’s appearance.

He hasn’t changed – gotten broader maybe. His hair is slightly longer, falling into his eyes. His ears are still pierced in multiple places, although right now he’s only wearing simple rings in both ears. He’s wearing a dark sweatshirt, which you recognize is from the Busan Police Academy as you own the same one. His right hand is littered with tattoos you can’t make out, and they disappear into his arm. That is new and you wonder when he got them done. Unable to help yourself, your eyes travel to his left hand, his ring finger. You’re surprised to find it empty. The last time you saw him, there was definitely a ring there. It was the last time you were in Busan. You haven’t returned since.

“Did Namjoon text you?” Yoongi’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. You look at your partner distractedly. “He said he was going to.”

“Oh, I haven’t checked.” You mutter, before pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. There is an unread message, surely enough from your co-worker.

“Yeah he says Holly’s fine,” You tell Yoongi, scrolling through the message. “He was a little shy last night but seems to have taken a liking to Joon.” Yoongi heaves a sigh of relief. Yoongi was also your roommate back home, and his dog meant more to him more than anything else. You secretly were also extremely fond of the little brown poodle. “He says he’ll send pictures later.” Yoongi scoffs at that.

“He better, I do not trust that man with our dog.” Yoongi says and you smile at his wording. Holly was definitely Yoongi’s dog, you had just moved into his apartment when he was in need of a roommate to help cover the rent. It was so easy to be platonically domestic with Min Yoongi.

“Why didn’t you just leave him with your brother?” you ask, putting your phone away, looking out through the window to see if Taehyung is done.

“Geumjae’s in Daegu for my Mom’s birthday.” you turn to Yoongi in surprise.

“It’s your Mom’s birthday and you’re here?” you ask in surprise. Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe we should stop in Daegu on the way back.”

“I considered it,” he says. “If we have time.”

“I’d like to meet her.” You say warmly.

Jungkook clears his throat and you look at him, having forgotten he’s in the car too. He’s about to say something when Taehyung opens the door and gets in on the driver’s side.

“Sorry,” he says. “We have another ongoing case.”

“It’s not a problem,” Yoongi says. “You could’ve just left us to go do all this by ourselves.”

“No this case takes precedent for us too,” Taehyung says, starting up the car. “Plus, we’re here to help you if you ever need anything.”

The rest of the drive is silent, but its an almost-comfortable type of silence. You look out the window, taking in the familiar streets from your younger years. Nothing really has changed but then again, two years isn’t a long time at all. Or maybe it is. You’re not sure anymore.

“You say she was found near Haeundae?”

“Near the Haeundae market, yes.” Jungkook answers, surprising you. “She hadn’t been in the water and no water was found in her lungs, so she wasn’t drowned. No blood or signs of struggle in the surrounding area meaning she was killed elsewhere and brought to the market. We aren’t sure why this particular location was chosen--”

“The killer wanted her to be found,” you say, your voice soft, cutting him off. “The markets open before anything else. Everyone who lives here knows that.” Jungkook turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since he’d walked into the conference room.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I think so too.”

“ID?” Yoongi asks, and either he’s pretending not to feel the tension in the car, or he doesn’t notice it. Knowing Yoongi, it’s probably the former.

“16-year-old Park Sohee,” Jungkook says, turning back to look at the little black notebook he has open. “Attended high school in Haeundae, grew up in the area too.”

“Have you spoken to the parents?” You ask.

“Yesterday,” he replies. “She was on the swim and dive team at school. Had excellent grades and many friends. A popular kid. Parents say she had no enemies, and no boyfriend, and wasn’t involved in anything ‘bad’.”

“Yeah well a parent is always going to say that,” you muse. “Have you spoken with her school? Friends? Swim coach?”

“Not yet. We waited for you.” You nod at that.

“I’d like to see the body after this if that’s okay. Yoongi can go talk to the school.” Yoongi nods beside you.

“Sure, one of us can go with you and the other can go with Detective Min.” Taehyung says, pulling up near the fish markets. You step out of the car, the smell of fish immediately overpowering you. You wrinkle your nose and look around. The market is exactly the same as you remember it. The familiar stalls selling everything from fresh produce to seafood to small trinkets and jewelry. It isn’t too busy right now considering it’s a weekday, which means you can look around easily.

“Nostalgic?” Jungkook asks stepping in beside you. You smile slightly.

“Only a little,” you answer him. “We used to come here a lot.”

“I still do to be honest,” he jokes. “The naengmyeon here is unrivalled.”

“Still?” you ask surprised, and he nods.

“Have some while you’re here,” he says, tossing his now empty cup in the nearby trashcan. “I know you like it.” He’s looking at you once again looking like he wants to say something. You understand, there are so many words left unsaid between you after all. You’re not sure you want to open that door though. Jungkook has always worn his heart on his sleeve.

“Over here,” Taehyung motions from some distance away and the two of you make your way to him. Yoongi is already standing there and he hands you a pair of gloves. Pulling them on, you lift the yellow police tape to make your way to the scene.

“They found her in front of this stall, on her back.”

“On display,” you say, kneeling near the chalk outline of the body. “Killer wanted us to see her face and neck.” You looked up at Jungkook and Taehyung, who were looking at you in confusion.

“It’s another inconsistency,” you say, standing up. “The Joker’s victims are all found face down. This guy totally didn’t do his research considering he was trying to be a copycat.”

“He wanted us to see the slashed throat,” Yoongi says. “He’s an amateur at this.” You nod.

“The cause of death was the morphine, I’m guessing. The wounds were all inflicted post-mortem”

“She had no other inflictions,” Jungkook says. “You can look at the tox screen when we go see the body and talk to the M.E. too.”

“Who found her?”

“A couple fishermen,” Taehyung reads off his notes. “Time of death is approximately 3-4 AM and both their alibis check out, they were out on the docks ready to head out.”

“I say we tell the press we’re convinced it’s the Joker,” you say, taking off your gloves and pocketing them.

“I agree,” pipes up Jungkook.

“Detective Min, if you can come with me to go talk to the family,” Taehyung says to Yoongi and then turns to you. “Go with Jungkook to see the body,” he says. You nod hesitantly, half-hoping it would’ve been the other way around. “We’ll drop you off on our way.”

Before you know it, you’re standing next to Jungkook outside the medical examiner’s office. Jungkook pushes the door open, letting you go through first.

“Hey Jin, I’m back,” he says and you hear a crash and a man appears from behind some shelves. He’s wearing a lab coat, dark hair disheveled. He looks at you.

“Oh, the detective from Seoul I’m guessing!” he says, his voice oddly melodious. “Kim Seokjin, MD.” You shake his hand, grinning and introducing yourself. You already like him.

“She wants to take a look at the body.”

“Of course, of course,” Seokjin says rushing around to the many shelves in the wall, popping one open and pulling out the body of Park Sohee.

You and Jungkook make your way towards it. You peer down at the young girl.

“The morphine is likely what killed her,” Seokjin says, watching you.

“She has bruises,” you say softly, staring at her abdomen. “Post-mortem?”

“No.” Seokjin replies. “She got those when she was alive. The coloring indicates they’re old.”

“Swimming and diving aren’t high contact sports,” you say. “Where did she get these bruises on her arms and chest?”

“You thinking domestic abuse?” Jungkook asks from behind you

“The parents said she didn’t have a partner. How did the parents seem?”

“Upset,” Jungkook starts, then stops. “You think the parents did this?”

“Just considering all options. Her team coach is also a possibility. I won’t know until we’ve checked all of them.” You look down at her again. “A pretty girl.” You say. “Can I have copies of the tox screen?”

“Sure,” Seokjin replies, walking over to his desk to print out a copy. “There isn’t much other than the morphine. An overwhelming amount.”

“Where would they get access to so much morphine?”

“No idea,” he says walking over and handing you the toxicology report, which you subsequently put in your bag. “But it was way over the lethal amount. The killer isn’t an expert on dosage. My guess? Someone who has no idea how killing works.”

You and Jungkook walk out of the building. The afternoon sun is peaking out, making you shed your jacket.

“You hungry?” he asks, and you realize you are. All you’ve had since arriving in Busan is coffee. “There’s a galbi place around here.”

He leads you around the corner into a small restaurant and you enter behind him.

“Jungkookie!” comes an excited voice and you see an elderly woman wearing a flowery apron making her way towards you. “It’s been a while!”

Jungkook grins at the woman and greets her politely and she ushers you over to a small table by the window facing the busy street. Handing you a menu, she smiles kindly at you.

“You’re a regular?” you ask.

“I used to be. It’s been a while honestly.”

You scan the menu, your mouth immediately watering.

“The dak-galbi here is unreal,” he tells you and you pretend to throw the menu away.

“Well how dare I eat anything else then!” Jungkook laughs, high and melodic. Its been a while since you’ve heard that laugh. “Let us split the dak-galbi. I also want rice.”

Jungkook gets up and walks over to the counter himself to give your order. You watch him, a small smile on your face. He collapses back in his seat, bringing over two glasses of water.

“So,” he says.

“What’s with the tattoos.” You blurt out, eyeing his hand. He stares down at it too.

“Wanted a change, I guess,” he says slowly. “Life was getting pretty dull around here.”

“So, you got inked,” you say grinning. He grins back.

“I’m happy this isn’t awkward,” he says after a while and you freeze. “I’m glad we can sit and talk like this still.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Me too.”

“About back then—” he starts, and you sigh. You want desperately to avoid this conversation but Jungkook, ever the straight arrow, has never liked underlying tension, and prefers everything laid out on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” you tell him, but he shakes his head vigorously.

“No, I am sorry,” his tone is firm. “I ruined our friendship, made everything weird and drove you away. I know I’m the reason you’ve avoided this place until now and even now you’re only here because you have to be—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt gently, and he halts mid-rant, his doe-like eyes wide. “Stop talking. I’m the one who’s sorry. I acted immature and it was me who ruined everything, not you. I didn’t come back because-because it hurt at first and then I didn’t come back because I thought you’d be happier without having to deal with me.”

“How could you think that?” He’s gripping the table, knuckles white. It makes the ink on his hand stand out even more. You see a sketch of a small rose, about an inch tall, right below his index finger, and bite your lip. “You were my best friend.”

“It’s different now,” you assure him, still staring at the rose. It’s staring back at you, a silent taunt. It brings up repressed memories you rather not face. “Things are different. I’m happy—in Seoul. Please don’t blame yourself for everything that happened. I wasn’t angry to see you, I was just worried you wouldn’t want to see me. I’m happy now and I’ve moved on from all that.”

“With Yoongi.” Jungkook says, and you’re not sure why he sounds so bitter.

“With Yoongi, yes,” you say. Yoongi’s your work partner and a steady shoulder when you need one. He’s your roommate and best friend. Seoul is lonely and even after two years of living there, he’s one of your only friends. But as soon as you say it, something in Jungkook’s expression shifts, like a door slamming shut. He sits back. “He’s the best partner anyone can ask for, and a damn good detective.”

Jungkook nods once, jaw clenched. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, your food arrives and you’re too hungry to think of much else.

After that, the two of you only make polite small talk. There’s no tension but you can’t help but feel like the wall that was crumbling has somehow repaired itself. Jungkook’s phone rings as he’s finishing his rice.

“Tae, hey,” he says, phone in his left hand as he eats with his right. You distractedly wonder why he doesn’t wear his ring anymore. “Okay sounds good. No, we can just walk to the station its only a couple blocks. Yeah man see you there.”

“They done talking to the school?”

“Yeah they’ll fill us in when we get there.”

“So, what’s the deal?” Yoongi asks, his lithe body curled up on the hotel armchair in your room. His room is next door, but the two of you had ordered room service for dinner. Empty bowls of jajangmyeon lie littered on the small side table next to him.

“The deal with what?”

“Detective Jeon,” You turn to Yoongi and fix him with a stare. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Nonsense,” you reply.

“You two have a history? It got seriously weird at times today.”

“No history—it’s the same as Taehyung, we attended the police academy together. Taehyung was a couple years ahead of us though.”

“And?”

“And I’ve also attended middle school and high school with Jungkook. He was my neighbour growing up.”

“Ah childhood friends,” Yoongi hums. “But what went wrong?”

“What makes you think something went wrong?”

“Because you left behind a perfectly good life here when you moved to Seoul? Because you never talk about these people? Before today I didn’t even know of them. And also, because you were absolutely dreading coming here.” You sigh, hating Yoongi’s astute personality.

“Jungkook found out how I felt,” You say quietly. “About him.”

“Oh.”

“While he had a girlfriend.”

“…Oh.”

“Who he was engaged to.”

“What the fuck,” Yoongi’s tone makes you giggle, relieving the pain a little.

“Obviously, he never felt the same way, but then things got so weird. It was like we could never go back to what was. Jungkook skirted around me, his girlfriend hated my guts, I had to avoid our whole friend-group because all of his friends were my friends. It felt claustrophobic.”

“So, you left.”

“Not exactly,” you say. “I wasn’t actively looking to run away, but when the option to move was presented to me, I hesitated way less than I originally would have.”

“And are you still in love with him?” Yoongi asks, voice casual.

“I don’t know,” you reply, thinking of the small rose tattooed on Jungkook’s hand. It’s easier to deny. “It’s been two years and as far as I know he could be married by now.”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Yoongi answers, like the detective he is. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “He was head over heels for Jangmi.”

“What a delicate name,” Yoongi muses.

“She was the delicate kind,” you agree. “Kind, pretty, gentle – just like her name—like a rose.”

“Every rose has its thorns though,” Yoongi says wisely. “He cares about you, you know.”

“Who?”

“Detective Jeon. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You’re such a romantic at heart Min,” You tease. Yoongi only smiles softly in return. “It doesn’t matter. Jungkook’s life is here and mine is in Seoul. After we wrap this case up, I probably won’t see him again. I’m happy with my life right now.”

“Maybe if you tell yourself that enough times, it’ll one day become the truth.”

“Anyway, go over what you saw with the victim’s school again.” You sit on your bed cross-legged, your go-to posture when you’re trying to focus.

“Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. Her swim coach is a well-respected man. Usually men in power take advantage of multiple people under them but none of the other girls in the team seemed out of sorts to me. Her teachers all spoke highly of her—she really did have excellent grades. It seemed she was friendly with everyone in her class and on her team. I’ve hit a block.”

“That’s frustrating.”

“The bruises you mentioned are bothering me,” Yoongi adds. “They don’t seem to have an explanation and the parents seemed surprised when we asked them about it.”

“Alibis for the parents?”

“Asleep at home,” he hums. “No way for us to check that. Sohee was on her way back from swim practice and when she didn’t show up at home at the regular time by 10pm her mother started worrying. They claimed they would call the police the next day, but of course it was too late.”

“They didn’t think their daughter not showing up at home was a cause for panic?” You ask. “It’s weird to me. She wasn’t the rebellious type, so this must not have been normal behaviour.”

“You’re set on the parents, aren’t you?” Yoongi grins, stretching his legs out.

“It’s just this feeling, I don’t even have an explanation for it.”

“A hunch.”

“Yes but no proof,” You grit your teeth in frustration.

It rains on your second day in Busan. You roll out of bed to the sound of the tell-tale pitter patter and groan. Getting ready and putting on the jeans from yesterday along with a black dress shirt, you hop around trying to tuck it into the waistband. There’s a knock on your door and you open it to greet Jungkook.

“Oh—hey,” he is not who you expected to be at your door so early in the morning.

“Your partner left your hotel info with Tae.” He says, curious eyes peering around your hotel room. You quirk a small smile and let him in. He sits down on the chair Yoongi was occupying last night.

“So, what’s up?”

“We found a suspiciously large amount of money in a savings account under Park Sohee’s name,” Jungkook is still looking around your room curiously and you don’t know why.

“Suspicious?”

“She was sixteen,” he says. “What’s a 16 year old doing with fifty million won?” Your eyes widen at the amount.

“Do her parents know?”

“We’re going down to see them now that’s why I’m here.” Jungkook stands up. “Where’s Min?”

“In his room probably. He’s not a morning person.” Jungkook blinks down at you.

“You two aren’t sharing a room?”

“Huh?” You pause mid-way of packing your backpack for the day. “Why would we?”

“Because… you’re together—wait what,” Jungkook looks so confused you almost find it adorable.

“What the fuck Jeon, we’re not together – not like that.” You say.

“B-but yesterday you said you’d moved on with him—”

“Yes, as partners – you know? The thing we do for work.” You’re trying not to laugh.

“B-but you own a dog together and live together.”

“We’re cops, Jeon, not billionaires. Rent in Seoul is atrocious, he’s my roommate. Also, Holly is Yoongi’s dog, not mine.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook hides his face behind his hands and sits back down. You’re laughing. “I’m sorry for assuming.”

“You know—you should ask Yoongi how Jung Hoseok is doing.” You say, grinning.

“Who?” Jungkook looks up.

“His boyfriend,” you’re trying hard not to burst back into giggles. “Lives in Gwangju on a temporary assignment. The guy whose room I’m technically renting out. They were roommates before getting together. When he had to move out for work, Yoongi needed someone to help cover the rent.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans, hiding behind his hands again. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say laughing. “Easy mistake to make… I think?” Jungkook is looking at you from in-between his fingers.

“So then, are you seeing anyone?” His direct tone throws you off. You turn to fully look at him, but a knock on the door interrupts you both.

It’s Yoongi, and he doesn’t look surprised to see Jungkook in your room.

“Taehyung texted me,” he says. “Detective Jeon,” he adds in greeting.

“Please,” Jungkook smiles, “call me Jungkook.” Yoongi raises both his eyebrows and looks at you in question and you’re trying to fight laughter once again.

The ride to the victim’s parents’ house is quiet. Taehyung drives and you spend the time pondering over Jungkook’s words from earlier. He’d been angry yesterday because he’d assumed you and Yoongi were together. You frown to yourself because nothing makes sense. Had he fallen out with Jangmi? But it’s not like Jungkook had ever thought about you as anything other than a friend. You remember his words from back then, loud and clear, and they come back to you now.

“I’m sorry.”

You remember his apologetic eyes, the glint of his wedding band; he had looked like a child who’d been told off. You hate that look, the pity staring down at you. But most of all you hate the fact that you’d been rejected before you’d even had a chance to explain. A mutual friend had let the cat out of the bag at a party, and Jungkook being Jungkook had confronted you right away. None of it had been on your own terms.

You’d brushed it off as a small crush, defence mechanisms kicking in, but things had never been the same afterwards. Jungkook had always been good at seeing right through you and he could tell you’d been lying about the depth of your feelings.

You clench your fist. Moving to Seoul had meant burying all this behind you, pretending none of it had happened, forgetting about Jungkook and how madly in love you’d been with him. You’d always been good at compartmentalizing, it’s what made you a good cop. You’d ignored everything for two years. Until now.

Yoongi calls your name, breaking you out of your reverie. You’re at Park Sohee’s home, but you can see from your seat in the car that the main door is ajar. Jungkook is already tossing you a vest which you hastily put on. He pulls out his gun and exits out the car. The three of you follow suit.

“Stand guard at the back, we’ll clear the house.” Taehyung tells you and you and Yoongi nod. The two of you position yourself near the backdoor. After about 10 minutes you hear Jungkook shout. The backdoor opens, and his head peeks out.

“Father missing, but we found his wife,” at your expression, he continues, “Dead, in the bathtub. Overdosed, it seems, in an apparent suicide. She left a note.” He holds up a piece of paper.

“Her husband, a nasty man, is our guy.”  

“Where is he?”

“Taehyung is putting a trace on his credit cards and cellphone as we speak.”

You’re reading the note, disgust piling up inside you. Sohee’s father had been an abusive man, and she was planning on running away and going to the police. She sold some of her clothes and other belongs to earn money through the years. The mother, an abused woman herself was complicit in the crime but had been unable to handle the guilt.

“This man killed his daughter and is directly responsible for another woman’s death. We better find him.”

At that moment, Taehyung appears at the door.

“Got him, let’s go.”

“When we said he was amateur at this, I didn’t mean this amateur.” You say, staring at the balding man through the one-sided mirror.

“He panicked when his daughter threatened to go to the police and killed her in a fit of rage. Then he tried to cover it up.”

“Only a psychopath tries to copy other psychopaths.” Yoongi says behind you. Jungkook is in the interrogation room, dark jeans and a dark t-shirt on, looking like he’s going to strangle the living daylights out of Park Sohee’s killer. His arms are bare for the first time since you’ve been back, and you can see the black ink swirling all the way up and disappearing into his sleeve. They’re all little designs, instead of a cohesive piece, as though he got them done separately.

“When are you guys heading out?” Taehyung asks. “We should at least grab a drink before you go.”

“We managed to get in on a train this evening,” Yoongi says apologetically. “Duty calls back home.”

“We’re still going to stop in Daegu for the night to wish Yoongi’s mother a happy birthday.” You tell Taehyung. “Early morning tomorrow, we head back to Seoul.”

“That’s too bad,” Taehyung nudges you playfully. “We barely had time to catch up.” You smile slightly, still staring at Jungkook, who’s coaxing a confession out of the man. You can’t deny that you want to leave Busan as soon as possible, but somewhere deep inside your heart breaks.

Park Sohee’s father confesses not too shortly after that and the case is officially closed. Taehyung suggests a late lunch at a nearby restaurant as a final get-together before you and Yoongi have to leave in the evening. Jungkook doesn’t say much throughout the meal, only offering a distracted smile every now and then.

When the four of you are heading out Jungkook grabs your wrist.

“Can we talk?” he asks and you look over at Yoongi who gives you a small smile.

“I’ll meet you at the train station tonight then,” is all he says before pulling Taehyung away towards his car. Jungkook is still looking at you.

“Walk with me,” he says, and you do, falling into step beside him. “I think we need to clear up some misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings?”

“I broke up with Jangmi,” he starts and you’re genuinely surprised to hear that. “Actually—she broke up with me. It’s been over a year since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say carefully, hating yourself for the selfish happiness that blooms inside you. “What happened?”

“She left me for someone else,” Jungkook says, smiling lightly. He doesn’t look hurt. “Someone who can love her way more than I ever could.”

“That’s so not true,” you argue back. “You loved her.”

“I did,” he agrees, and you try not to wince. It’s harder to hear it than say it. “To an extent. When she left, I didn’t cry. In fact, I was barely upset, and I hated myself even more for that. But then Jangmi pointed something out that made me see things very clearly.”

“What was that?” you whisper. The two of you are standing beside Nakdong river now, cyclists and runners passing by you in the blink of an eye. The air smells fresh and cold, the rain having left behind a chill and bright blue sky.

“She pointed out that I was more upset when you moved away than I was when she told me there was someone else for her.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“Oh.” Is all you say.

“When I apologized yesterday, for ruining everything, I meant that I was sorry that I was so confused. My confusion and indecisiveness ruined everything. When everything became clear to me, you were already gone.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?” you ask, your voice still hushed.

“I tried,” he is being earnest now. “Your parents had already moved to Seoul, and I contacted Kim Jooyoung from school to see if she knew of your contact information, she was your best friend in college after all. All she had was a cellphone and a landline phone number, but it was worth a shot. When I called, your old roommate picked up and said you’d moved in with some guy. When I tried your cellphone, it was dead.”

“Oh I-I changed my number,” you say, your voice shaky. “I don’t even remember why now—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jungkook’s voice is urgent. “Before today I’d made peace with the fact that you were the one that got away. I could look you up using my connections but until today I was under the assumption you’d moved on. But you’re here now, by some miracle, if I can even call it that given the circumstances, but to me its too big of a coincidence to just pass up.”

You watch him quietly. He’s slightly out of breath and the wind ruffles through his dark hair.

“You never got to answer my question from earlier,” he says. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“N-no I’m not but—” You never get to finish your sentence because Jungkook is leaning in and crushing his lips to yours. His hands come up to rest on your shoulders, then your neck and then your cheeks, which he grazes with his thumbs. Once you get over your initial shock, you reach up to tentatively grasp his t-shirt on both sides. He tastes like the hot chocolate he had with his lunch. You feel his tongue tentatively swiping at you and you open yourself up to him. Immediately, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

After what feels like both, and eternity and a few short seconds, he pulls away. His lips are glistening and swollen and he’s out of breath.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, hands still cupping your cheeks. “Stay here.” Slowly, you pull away, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself.

“You’re asking a lot of me,” you start. “My entire life is in Seoul, Jungkook, I can’t just up and leave—”

“You just up and left Busan,” he says, and you freeze. Studying your sudden shift in expression, he hastily corrects himself, “I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong.”

“Jungkook,” you say, hoping you sound more patient than you feel. “Things are different now; I’m almost settled down in Seoul. I love Busan, I do, but I have no intention of moving back here. My family lives in Seoul now too and my lease with Yoongi isn’t even up, and I love my job, I wouldn’t dream to leave it.” Jungkook abruptly pulls away. “And I won’t ask you to leave Busan, I know how much you love it here.”

“Then what now,” he asks, a small smile on his face. “That’s it? You leave tonight and I never hear from you again?”

“I never said that,” you say softly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic is my middle name,” he mumbles, and you giggle.  “Do you at least feel the same way?”

“Of course, I do,” you say. “Otherwise I’d have pushed you into the river by now for your advances. Give me some time to think things through alright?”

“But—”

“We have a case back home that needs us, I really do have to go back today. Yoongi’s visiting his family tonight and I’ve made him a promise to come along and they’re expecting me. I won’t go back on that.”

Jungkook is now silent, staring wordlessly at you.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

“Yes.” He answers. There’s no hesitation in his voice. You smile.

Six Months Later

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks. The party is in full swing, loud music almost drowning out his voice. He’s holding a cup of clear liquid in his hands and you doubt it’s water.

“Yeah it’s not a problem, I can watch Holly for the weekend.”

“I’ll drop him off on Friday then,”

“That’s fine! You and Hobi deserve the weekend away.”

“But it’s not a hassle for you? It’s your weekend off too,”

“Yoongi I’m not going to try and convince you to let me take care of your dog in the middle of Hoseok’s welcome-back-bash.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Hoseok slithers in next to you, tossing an arm around your neck.

“Yoongi’s worried about his dog,” you roll your eyes. “This has never happened before.”

“I’m not worried,” Yoongi seethes, making you and Hoseok laugh. “I just don’t want my dog being neglected because you and Jeon are copulating like rabbits all weekend.” Blood rushes to your ears and you grit your teeth.

“Jungkook’s going to be too busy this weekend for that, I promise you.”

“Oh yeah, has he found an apartment yet?” Hoseok asks conversationally.

“Yeah, he’s signing the lease on Friday, and then moving here over the weekend.”

“And he starts work on Monday?” You nod.

“The Organized Crime boys are gonna love him,” Yoongi grins. “Man will fit right in. Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him since you two arrived.”

“Right here Min,” Jungkook pops out of nowhere, a wide grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes. “What’s up?”

“Yoongi thinks we aren’t responsible enough to take care of his precious dog.”

“I believe the phrase he used was, ‘copulating like rabbits’” Hoseok chimes in unhelpfully. You elbow him in the stomach. Jungkook eyes you, grin fading a little and you recognize the dangerous spark in his eyes.

“Well he’s not wrong—” he starts, but is met by loud interruptions from you, Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Too much information!” Yoongi yells, downing his drink. “You two are disgusting! Lets go Hobi.”

Jungkook comes up to you, still grinning slyly and you automatically slip your arm around his waist.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” you ask, looking up at him. Jungkook has an arm around your shoulder as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Bit too late to ask me that, don’t you think babe?” You pinch his waist and he yells out loud. “I didn’t move to Seoul for you, I moved here for the job.”

“Ha. Ha,” you roll your eyes, but a part of you knows it’s partially true anyway. Long distance between Busan and Seoul hadn’t treated you too badly and things had been going surprisingly well. You were a good five months into your newfound relationship when there had been a sudden opening in the Organized Crime unit, a real step-up for Jungkook’s career. Jungkook had told you once he’d applied for the job that he’d have applied anyway regardless if you were in the picture or not, and you appreciated his honesty. Both of you had always been the type to put your careers first, but you couldn’t believe your luck that things had just fallen into place like this. You’re happy for him.

“Although having you here is a pretty sweet bonus,” Jungkook adds, making you smile. The two of you stand there in silence, arm-in-arm, enjoying the celebrations from afar.

[pro-deviant-girl]

You & Nines With an almost annoyed sigh, [y/n] looked up at the large building in front of her. If they had known that their first assignment when they were transferred to the Detroit Police would be a police ball, they would have come a day later. Nervously, they brushed a strand of hair behind their ears. [y/n] was worried about how they would react, after all, it had been a long time since she had started in Detroit after the police academy. Briefly they closed their eyes and tried to calm down. It had been a long time since they had made a career in New York and were now lieutenants. As the new, at her age and as a woman, it had not been easy. Then they had broken off their engagement a week before the wedding and fled to New York. They had vowed never to return, and yet here they stood in a runaway dream of dark red silk while their shoes threatened to kill them. [y/n] straightened their shoulders and entered the hall, looking around for familiar faces. Further back, [y/n] spotted Lieutenant Anderson who had once been like a mentor and father. Next to him was a young man with brown hair and Captain Fowler. Careful not to trip in their shoes they approached the group. In fact, it was the lieutenant who recognized them first, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Holy crap...when did you get so big? I don't even dare hug you to not crumple anything!" he declared jokingly.

With a warm smile, they simply took over and hugged him.

"Good to see you Lieutenant Anderson." They commented.

"Do an old man a favor and call me Hank." he teased them lightly.

Before they could introduce the young man, however, they were interrupted by a voice that sounded so cold and penetrating that it made them shiver. They were so distracted by the goosebumps spreading on their arms that they didn't even hear his words.

"How appropriate Rk900. May I introduce you to your new partner? Lieutenant [y/l/n] she is new from New York." the Captain spoke.

They could feel his gaze on them and swallowing hard, they turned around. The first thing they noticed was that they had to look really far up to meet his gaze. Then they were irritated because he was so similar to the young man next to Lieutenant Anderson. The android seemed to look at them as well and so there was a really uncomfortable silence for a moment.

"Is everything alright with you Lieutenant [y/l/n]?" asked the Rk900.

"Absolutely out of the question that I keep addressing you as Rk900..." it blurted out of them.

"Get used to Nines." they determined and made their way to the bar without another word. As they did so, she could literally feel her partner's eyes boring into her back.

"Damn you Kamski." they cursed softly and ordered a bourbon.

When Kamski asked you how you imagined a perfect man, you didn't expect that he would use it to really create him and by God he had hit it perfectly.

"To hell with you..." they cursed again and finished the glass in one go.

Their hearts were pounding like crazy in their chests again that night all they could do was close their eyes to calm down. At least they would have if they hadn't heard a very familiar voice next to them.

"Are you all right kid?" asked Hank worriedly and they just nodded.

"Do you feel like dancing?" they asked instead of an explanation.

"I think I'm too rusty for that, but I'm sure Conner would love to," the lieutenant said with a grin.

Before they could answer, Hank waved Conner over and smiled.

"Boy will you do me a favor and dance with this young lady for me? Her feet will thank me."

Her eyes fell on Conner and a smile automatically settled on her lips. Even though Nines and he were so similar, there was something warmly friendly about Conner that cheered her right up.

" I would be honored." the android declared and not even a minute later they found themselves on the dance floor in his arms, finally feeling like they were having a good time. At least for most of the evening. It had been hours since she had started dancing with Conner and no matter how much they enjoyed it they had to excuse themselves as their feet were starting to hurt a lot now. Inconspicuously they disappeared on the balcony and looked at the sky before they sat down on the parapet and took off their shoes. Gladly they would have had now a cigarette but unfortunately they had forgotten the box at home. They weren't sure how long they had been sitting there with their eyes closed, but they opened them abruptly when they heard their partner's cool voice again.

"I can understand if you feel uncomfortable working with Android, but I assure you that I will do everything I can to complete our mission successfully." he began, but they interrupted him.

"I have no problem working with androids..."

"I don't really understand your reaction to me then."

"It's personal...me and Kamski.... We..." you attempted to explain.

"You were engaged... I heard that... I don't usually listen to gossip but Detective Reed was incredibly loud."

For the first time that evening, a laugh bounced from her lips and she nodded.

"Well I guess people like him never change." they replied.

"Yeah. He was my partner before and it's really counterproductive when your partner rejects you out of hand. I hope this gets better now so I can finally be effective."

A small smile formed on their lips and they nodded.

"I'll try my best."

Briskly they jumped off the parapet and were about to go back in but a clearing of their throats stopped them, so they turned back around. There stood Nines, holding her shoes.

"Oh sorry." they mumbled and wanted to come back but Nines was faster.

He got down on his knees in front of them and helped them into their shoes and even fastened the little strap. They could have sworn that his fingertips brushed against their ankle, but maybe they were wrong. Their eyes met his and without commenting he offered them his hand, which they took as if they knew he would. Nines led them back into the hall and then let go of her hand.

"I'm confident I can be more productive now," he explained as he walked away, leaving them where they were.

The rest of the evening passed quietly and hazily, but as they lay in their bed at night they could still feel his fingers on her ankle.

" This is not good...not good at all. " they whispered as their eyes fell closed.

Since English is not my mother tongue, there may be some mistakes. My beta is working on it. Maybe I'm just writing bad xDD

[draco-kasai]

Hero Collaboration Program

Summery: High School Hero Collaboration Program! Helping Sophomore hero students connect with others around the world! Come join us for a two-week-long trip to one of our schools for an amazing once in a lifetime experience with students of Yuuei! Only a lucky 40 students will be selected for this program. They will be split into two groups of 20 and sent to different schools to have completely unique experiences! 

 A/N: AKA, A very ambitious fanfic I started because even though I have another fanfic in progress my brain decided to give me an idea and I just had to do it. These are all characters I adore and I even did lots of reasurch on them to hopefuly get them down right. I also too many backstories and threw them into a meat grinder to remold them in a way that would make them fit into this universe.

 I love Class 1-A, but like they need to be taken down a peg or two, and I want to see them get their asses handed to them.  

Ch. 1 part 1 of 3 Program sign-ups.  -->

Chapter 1 Part 2 

High School Hero Collaboration Program

Helping first year hero students connect with others around the world!

What is the HSHC Program?

Our program has had a partnership with Yuuei High School for 15 long years! Their first-year students would come to our schools to interact, learn and study with other sophomore students for two weeks! - For those who don’t know, first year high school students in Japan would be considered sophomores here in the states! - A select few students nationwide as well as worldwide are selected to participate. All services and activities are offered and provided at no cost to participants or their families. This program is geared to help young heroes become (1) more informed of the educational, social, and cultural aspects available, (2) learn how to work with others they are unfamiliar with, (3) gain a better understanding of hero agencies and laws around the world, (4) assist students in successfully gaining connections with other aspiring heroes around the world their own age.

 Student Participants

A total of 40 lucky students are hand selected to take part in this 16 day long program. 28 slots are open for Nationwide applications. The remaining 12 slots are open for applicants across the world! Students are to go through a long application process and in person interview. Once admitted, students will be staying within the dorms that are provided. All plane tickets will be paid for by our program. This program will take place in two schools; Marina High School located in California and Chandler High School located in Arizona.

All partners who wish to apply together must submit a joint application and answer an extra essay question. Only accepting duo teams. Bigger teams are asked to either pair off and sign up as duos, or sign up individually. The whole purpose of this program is for young aspiring heroes to meet others and form connections.

 Application

All applicants are required to turn in two essays (unless a team). There is no page or word limit, 12 size text, font New Times Roman, single space. Along with your essays, please send in two teacher recommendation letters. A checklist will be provided at the end of this packet. Make sure to use it to assist you in keeping organized. Everything can be either faxed to (951-262-3062), given to school office faculty to hand to us or through mailed to 1640 Riverside Drive, Hill Valley, California.

Applicants that make it past the first stage of the application process will be scheduled for an in-person interview. A letter will be sent out within two weeks after the interview confirming whether or not you have been accepted.

 Essay 1.

When you become a hero, what do you hope to accomplish?

 Essay 2.

What major event in your life has led you to where you are now and your decision to become a hero?

Essay question for hero teams.

How did you meet, and when did you decide to work together as a team?

Emerald eyes narrowed as they skimmed over the packet that had been handed to them. With one last look over, they turned to face the person who had given them the packet. Bright blue eyes stared back with a large smile plastered on their lips. “What is this, Grayson?”

“It’s the Hero Collaboration Program!” Richard Grayson – Part-time Gotham Police officer and Underground Hero: Nightwing - responded enthusiastically.

Green eyes rolled skyward at the older boy’s words, “I can see that. All my teachers at school had even taken the liberty to constantly remind us about it. What I mean is, why did you give this to me?”

“Awe common, Kiddo, I thought you were smart.” Jason Todd – Vigilante: Red Hood – joked as he ruffled the younger boy’s black hair. With an annoyed grunt, his hand was swatted away, “We want you to apply for the program.”

With a huff, the youngest fixed his hair, “And why would I do such a thing?” 

The oldest boy grinned wider, “It’ll be fun!”

“No.” The youngest replied with a deadpan expression as he tossed the thin packet on the coffee table in front of him.

With a click of his tongue, Jason crossed his arms over his chest. Leaning back on the loveseat, he responded, “Just apply you brat, it’s not even that bad.”

“What’s ‘not that bad’?” Another voice asked as they walked into the living room, laptop in one hand, a cup of coffee in another.

“The Hero Collaboration Program.” Jason responded as he glanced over at the sleep-deprived man as he flopped down next to him.

“Oh! They started accepting applicants already?!” Timothy Drake – CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Underground Hero: Red Robin - sat up enthusiastically.  

“Yeah, but Damian doesn’t want to apply!” Dick pouts

“I’m not going to apply to a program that does not benefit me in any way shape or form.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Wha- but it teaches you so much! Your teachers must have told you about the benefits!” Tim frowned, taking a sip of his coffee.

“They did, but I don’t have any need for socializing.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been six years and your only friends are Jon and Maya, and honestly, I don’t think it counts. Maya is in her last year of high school and Jon is a year below you. You need friends your own age.” Jason responded, then waved his hand about, “Even if they're scattered across the continent.”

“I thought he made friends when he was sent to that boarding school in San Francisco for two years when he was eleven?” Dick raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, Titan middle school, right?" Tim hums, "I mean, they helped him become better, I guess?"

"Honestly, I feel like that was the work of the school itself, not them. Besides, Damian doesn't even text or call them like he does Maya and Jon." Jason huffs

“You've been snooping through my phone.” Damian glares as he pulls a knife from nowhere like magic.

"In that case, how will this help him if he isn't even close to people he went to school with for two years?" Tim thought out loud. 

"Well, back then it was regular school and classes. Schools don't offer more hero electives till sophomore year in high school. The program does lots of team building and training. What better way to make friends than when your life's in their hands?"

"That's a good point," Tim nods in agreement. 

“Didn’t you, like, date Raven while you were over there?” Dick teased, elbowing his brother

“No. I did NOT date Raven.”

“Wha- really? You seemed so close.” Dick blinks in surprise.

"Dude, she's dating Garfield."

"What?! Really?"

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Kori." 

"Oh… right, I forgot she mentioned that."

"Dude, she's your wife. If she knows you block out her rants, she's going to kill you."

"... I don't…  block out her rants."

“We’re straying off-topic.” Tim hums, hiding his smirk with his drink as Damian, who proceeded to slowly stand, shoots him a glare before a hand grabs the back of his color and pulled him back down. 

“Oh! Right, the Hero Collaboration Program!” Dick grins

“I think Damian taking part in the program is a good idea.” Everyone's eyes flickered over to the entrance where Bruce Wayne – Owner of Wayne Enterprises and Underground Hero: Batman – stood with Alfred Pennyworth, besides him. “This program will benefit you and help you make friends with people your own age, maybe even teach you something new.”

“Your brothers all attended the program, master Damian.” Alfred gave the boy an encouraging smile as he handed out drinks for everyone in the room, “In a way you could consider it a tradition at this point.” The younger boy took his drink silently as he pondered the words the older man had given him.

“Oh yeah, I guess it kind of is tradition at this point, huh…” Tim hummed, finishing his coffee and graciously handing the empty cup to Alfred, who shoved a cup of water in his hands.

“I joined during… what? During their third year of existence?” Dick wondered out loud as he leaned back on the couch.

“That’s correct, master Dick.”

“Haa~ I was Bruce’s test dummy to make sure the program was actually useful.” Dick chuckled softly.

“Pft seriously? Thanks for your sacrifice.” Jason smirked, making Tim let out a soft laugh.

“I suppose.” Everyone fell silent to look at the youngest Wayne, “If it’s a tradition at this point, I suppose I have no other choice but to partake in it as well.”

“That’s the spirit, Lil D!” Jason grinned.

“You’ll have fun. You’ll learn a lot, too.” Tim smiled, taking the smallest of sip of his water. With a glare from Alfred, he took a bigger gulp.

“Yes! Oh, man! I can’t wait for you to tell us about it when you get back! Maybe we should tell him stories of our experience!?” Dick energetically exclaimed as he practically bounced in his seat.

Bruce gave the boys a soft appeasing smile as they all cheered, making Damian scrunch up his face at the loud sound. With a soft sigh, he walked across the room to his office. Along the way, he gave his youngest a soft hair ruffle, making him groan.

Damian Wayne. Age 16. Seat 11. Student Rank 1. Hero Name: Red Bird. Quirk: Quirkless

Martial arts, hand-to-hand, sword, expert detective, hacker, stealth.

___

“Alright, class, make sure to think about signing up for that program! It’s a very good opportunity! You’re dismissed for lunch!” Mr. Barkin, a big man with an obvious werewolf mutation, dismissed his class.

A slim girl with long bright brown hair walked next to a beautiful dark-skinned girl with wavy black locks. The ginger hummed as she stared down at the packet that had been handed to them near the end of class, “I don’t know, what do you think Monique?”

 “I think it sounds like a lot of fun! Kim, girl, this is an O.I.A.L.T. E; Once In A Life Time Experience!” Monique paused and frowned.

“That was a long one.” Kim smirks at her friend.

“Ugh, I know. Never gonna use that one again.” The girl waved her hand in the air. Both girls stopped in front of a locker, “But It still stands! You should totally do it!”

“But what about you? And – and Ron?” Kim leans against the lockers, watching as her friend opens hers to put away her books.

“Psssh~ Pu-lease, I’ll be fine! I’ve got work at Club Banana and a bunch of homework to keep me company!” The brown eyed girl closed her locker, and they began their trip to Kim’s locker, “As for Ron, well-“

“K.P!!” Both girls turn to see a blond rushing over, “Did you hear about the exchange program!? Are you signing up? Please tell me you’re not leaving me! We’re supposed to be a team!!” He cried out as he hugged his friend.

The redhead huffed softly before prying her friend off her, “Ron, so not cool.”

“Yeah I – sorry K.P I just – I heard about the program and assumed you’d sign up and leave without me.” Ron sniffled dramatically. From his pocket, a small pink rodent climbed up to his shoulder and nodded in agreement, making small squeaking noises. “See! Rufus and I would miss you…” 

Monique rolled her eyes with a smirked as she gently pushed the two forward to keep walking, “You know, the program is accepting team sign ups~”

“Wait really!?” Ron gasped as he brought the packet back up to read. “Oh my god, they are!”

Kim frowns, “I don’t know, then you’d really be alone, Monique.” They stop at her locker.

“Oh common Kim. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity! You have to S. I; seize it! You’re not going to be a sophomore forever, girl.” Monique leaned on the lockers with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yeah! It’s a good opportunity to learn about other school systems! Did you see who they're partnered with K. P? It’s Yuuei High school! Yuuei! They're, like, the best in Japan! At least that's what the rest of this thing says and what Yori told me when I did that whole” Ron waves his hand in a circle as he shrugs, “seven day long Japan exchange thing during First Semester.”  

“You still have yet to tell us much about that.” Kim smirks as she opens her locker, “Japan is one of those places that have schools that specialize in training hero’s, right?”

“That’s right!” Everyone looked up to the projection of a boy their age sitting at a desk, “Hey girls! Hi Ron, Rufus, Whatcha guys talkin’ bout?”

“Hey Wade. We’re just talking about Some program that’s partnered with Yuuei.” Kim smiled at the screen as she put her things in the locker.

“Oh! The Hero Collaboration Program?” Wade’s smile widens.

Kim rolls her eyes half-heartedly at her friends' excitement. “Of course you’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah! Tell Kim that She’s GOT to GO!” Monique gave her friend a glare.

“Wade! Tell us about Yuuei High School!” Ron practically begged, shoving past Kim before standing behind her again. His best friend shot him an annoyed glare.

With a sigh, Kim finally nods, “Tell us about the school.”

Wade grins and begins quickly typing away on his laptop. A few images began appearing next to him, “As you know, Yuuei High School is known as a hero school. They’re known for ranking number 1 in hero schools across Japan. Their competitor, coming in second by just a bit, is Shiketsu High School. If you ask me though, Shiketsu is obviously better, I mean, look at those uniforms! So wicked! Look at those hats and blazers!”

“Right, about Yuuei.” Kim gently reprimands when she notices her friend is straying off-topic.

“Oh, right! So, from what I’m seeing so far, I think Yuuei has an unfair entrance exam.”

“They have Entrance Exams?” Monique asked with a raised brow.  

Wade nods, “Yeah. In Japan, to get into high schools, students are required to take an entrance exam.” 

“Right, so, why do you think it’s unfair?” Kim raised a brow

“Well, looking at their sports festival, Just about everyone in the hero program has a “flashy” quirk. When you compare it to other hero school’s and their graduating classes, their quirks are more balanced. Um, one sec” Wade’s eyes narrowed, his pointer finger stretches out like a wire, and he connects to his computer. A moment later, his eyes turn blue and data begins to quickly rush through.

“Is it just me or is he… taking longer than usual?” Ron raises an eyebrow after four minutes pass. 

“Mm, another reason to be glad our school has an hour-long lunch…” Monique hums as she leans on a leg, a hand on her hip. They watched in silence as Wade frowned and bit his lower lip. After three more minutes, the boy smirks, disconnecting himself, making his eyes turn back to normal. “Got it.” he grins as he leans back in his seat.

“Uuuuh, got what?” Ron tilts his head in confusion.

“I hacked into their system. It was pretty tricky considering it was made by the smartest being in the world, but nothing compared to me and my quirk. They had a bunch of firewalls and backups too, I think it was a lot of fun to get through.” Wade smirks as he shows them different class schedules for different courses, “I redacted all the important information, but it seems like this school also separates all of their courses. Hero course students, General Education, business, and support. They all learn different things, never interacting unless necessary.”

“That’s… different.” Kim raises an eyebrow. “Um, should you really be hacking into the system of the ‘world's smartest being’ Wade?” 

“Ah, don’t worry about it, Kim. Hack helps make sure I’m untraceable and if Nedzu did get an alert, which I worked my way around, and somehow traces a location it’ll just lead him to random computers in a random location of Japan.”

“Wow, The support course students don’t have any combat classes.” Ron frowned, obviously preferring to look at the schedules to listening to the conversation. 

“Hold up - Why does General Education have a Quirk Positivity class? This is high school? Shouldn't they have that class in elementary school?” Monique crossed her arms over her chest. Face filled with confusion.

“Right? Not just that, but the school conducts a sports festival, that they compare to the Olympics every year, that puts all the courses against one another.” Wade closes and erases the schedules, replacing them with a video reel of fights and highlights. 

“Wha - why even call it a sports festival!? All they're doing is fighting?” Ron frowns before grinning as he watches one of the students punch another, “Booya! Look at that right hook!”

“Oh snap! He flipped him like a pancake!” Monique grinned as they watched the highlight reels. 

“Why would they do that? Isn’t that practically advertising your quirk to all the villains in the area?” Kim rose an eyebrow

“It says that it’s done to ‘promote their students to other heroes for field studies.’ The kids receive internship requests by heroes that want to take them on. It’s dumb though because, according to this, only fifteen students from both hero classes combined got internship requests! And one of them got 4,123 requests!” 

“They're promoting their students like they're the newest fashion trend.” Monique frowns, looking away from the video. 

“That’s… only fifteen kids? Seriously? What about the others? Do they just… not do anything? Why can’t they all just apply like we do? I - My brain can’t process...” Rufus squeaks in sympathy as he pats Ron’s cheek with his paw. 

Monique frowns in thought,  “Hey, wait a minute… you said that the sports festival includes all the students, right?”

“Yeah, Three day’s worth of sports festival, one for each grade.” 

The girl scoffed, “They're using the other courses to make the hero course look better, aren’t they?” 

“What do you mean, Monique?” Kim frowns

“Think about it, girl, you saw the schedules. The hero course is the only course with combat training.” Kim’s eyes widened in realization. 

“Duuuude, not cool! If they all had at least the same level of experience, it would be a lot better.” Ron frowns as he crosses his arms. 

“Exactly! Personally, I prefer the way our school system is set up. Anyone who wants to take hero classes can take them, and if you don’t finish the credits, you’re in the academy longer. Not to mention, anyone who wants field experience could just apply and do the internships.” Wade crossed his hands over his chest.

“Wade, you're taking support course electives.” Kim smiled softly, “but you have a point.”

“Of course I do! I’m doing field study with the space center! You and Ron go every other weekend to work with the hero agency, and when vacation comes along you’ll be allowed to do more than just patrol. I just… this is just... “Wade signs, “At least I know how to fight and defend myself if anything were to occur.”

“A little worked up there huh, Wade...” Ron gave him a sympathetic smile

“Sorry.” He smiles sheepishly, “Anyway, will you and Kim be applying guys? They accept duo teams.” Kim thinks about it for a moment before letting out a soft sigh and smile.

“You know what? What the heck, let’s do it, Ron.” Kim smiles, “I think it’ll be really cool to get in and talk to other people not from around here. Make some new friends, and possible future partners.”

“Boo-ya! We’re so getting in!” Ron held up a finger for Rufus to high five.

Kim and Monique smile at one another, thanking Wade, the redhead closes her locker, “We can celebrate with Bueno Nacho AFTER we get accepted. For now, let's go get lunch before the break ends.”

“You think they’d let Rufus in?”

“Ron, I don’t know if they’d let your pet in the program.” Monique smiled

“Gasp! Pet? Rufus is NOT a pet! He is our partner!” the little rodent nods in agreement as he squeaks in response. 

“Maybe we could ask when we get past the interview process. We’ll have to see, don’t get your hopes up, though, Ron.” Kim smiles softly, patting the boy's shoulder.

Kim Possible. Age 16. Seat 2. Student Rank 2. Hero Name: Possible. Quirk: Quirkless.

Kung fu, acrobatics and gymnastics, cheerleading skills, martial arts, hand to hand

Ron Stoppable. Age 16. Seat 9. Student Rank 11. Hero Name: Koi. Quirk: Karmic Luck.

His good luck fixes his bad luck. His natural bad luck places him in bad situations, however thanks to his quirk they always turn in his favor. For example, He once tripped over a rock, which caused him to dodge bird poop coming at him. 

Basic Hand to hand, Ninjutsu

____

A young teen with black hair sat in a chair in their room, the red sleeves of his sweater pulled up to his elbows as he tinkered with a few things. The door to the room slowly opened to show a scrawny man with his blond hair in a beanie. Seeing his younger friend working, he walked in and waved the others in. Walking in, everyone made themselves comfortable in the room. A buff, burly man, walked closer to the teen. With a good slap on the back, making the boy shout in surprise, he greeted him.

“Hey there, little man!” He grinned widely, crossing his arms over his chest. Brown eyes blinked in surprise as he spun around on his chair to face the four adults. 

“Oh! Hey guys! What brings you four here?” The younger boy asked with a smile as he adjusts himself in his seat. The adults all glanced at each other for a moment. A girl with purple streaks in her hair held out a packet to him, a small smile on her lips.

“We wanted you to apply for the Hero Collaboration Program.” Honey Lemon began as the boy began to read it.

“You’re a really smart kid, Hiro. Graduated from high school early, taking hero and support classes at the same time at the institute.” Gogo smiles.

“You’ve made awesome support weapons and during battle training you’re, like, wicked smart.” Fred praises. 

“Buuuut you’re also a kid. A kid that’s friends with a bunch of adults, we want you to make some friends your own age.” Wasabi grinned sheepishly, everyone nodded in agreement.

“Do… you guys not like being my friends?” Hiro frowns, looking back up at them, dejection clear on his face. 

“No!” They all shouted at once.

“It’s not like that!” 

“We love being your friend, little dude!” 

“You’re an awesome dude!”

“We don’t hate you!”

“We’re not trying to make you feel like we hate you!” Wasabi sighed as he ran a hand down his face, “We just want you to make friends your own age.”

“Yeah, you graduated from high school pretty early on general studies, and are now taking both hero and support classes at the institute, but you never really got a chance to make friends your age.” Honey Lemon explained.

“We already called to ask if you’d be able to apply.” Gogo smiled.

“Yeah! They said that they understand the circumstances considering your quirk and will make an exception! Of course, they said that just because they’re letting you apply doesn’t mean you will be accepted! That’s all on you, my dude!” Fred grinned as he shot the young teen finger guns.

Hiro stared down at the packet in his hands for a moment. They're not wrong. Because of his quirk, he had practically breezed through school and graduated at 11. He’s never been interested in heroics or any of that stuff, but even if he wanted to, no hero school would have accepted him because of his young age. Finding boredom in just staying home, he began to tinker with things and began to build small robots for fun - and maybe to con a few people out of their money - but he’s never pursued anything specific. 

He hadn’t even thought about going into support until his older brother had brought it up when he was thirteen. After lots of hard work, he had gotten into the biggest hero school in the Tokyo prefecture, Institute for Heroics and Technology. He thought about applying to UA in shizuoka but he decided that the school was too over rated and stayed in Tokyo. He had stuck to the technical side of things, at least till his brother was killed in an explosion. It had taken a lot of convincing, but he was able to get his friends to help him take down the villain that caused it. He and his friends had become vigilantes and once they had captured the culprit he was reluctant to stop. It wasn’t long till he found himself in the heroics courses as well. 

Now that he’s reflecting on it, they're right. He doesn’t have any friends his own age. Taking a deep breath, he nods, “Alright, sure. I’ll apply.”

“Really!?” Honey Lemon practically squeals in excitement.

“Yeah, besides, it says that the kids at Yuuei are participating. They’ve been through a bunch of villain attacks already, It’ll be interesting to see how they compare to other heroes in training.” Hiro leaned back in his seat, a leg crossing to rest on the other. 

“Oh… Oh, no, that’s his ‘I have plans’ smirk, guys.” Fred stage whispered to the others.

“Should I be feeling bad for the Yuuei kids or the exchange kids he’ll be with if he’s accepted?” Wasabi asked, making Hiro burst into a fit of laughter.

“... Both.” Honey Lemon squeaked.

“He’s going to have fun.” Gogo smirked.

Hiro Hamada. Age: 15. Seat 13. Student rank 3. Hero Name: Zero. Quirk: Prodigy 

His brain functions at a faster rate than possible, making it easy for him to process and retain information, giving him genius level intelligence. 

Hand to hand, Martial Arts, builds his own support items.

_____

“No way man.” A dark skinned boy groaned as he tossed his backpack on the ground and sat himself on his desk chair, the wheels sending him back a bit. 

“What? Miles, dude common. This event is for sophomores ONLY. You’re never getting this opportunity, ever again!” Another male walked into the shared room and closed the door behind him. 

“Ganke I just got the hang of swinging around, the school year is going to end in a few months meaning finals are coming up, I don’t need to stress myself out more with this program.” Miles huffed in response, riffling through his backpack he pulled out his textbooks. 

Sitting himself at his own desk, the boy responded as he grabbed his own things, “That was three months ago dude. The school year doesn’t even end until June, we’re barely getting into November, and this program is supposed to be fun. Did you even read that packet? You’ve been stressing yourself too much by adding so much training on top of your school work.” 

“...... I can’t rest Ganke, you know that. I have to hurry up and graduate, so I can take over what Peter had left for me.” Miles let out a tired sigh as he slumped back on his chair and stared at the ceiling. “I know what happened to him wasn’t my fault, I get that, but… I just… I could have done more, you know? Like, I know he took me in for field studies because we have similar quirks, but I’ve looked up to him for so long and to be acknowledged only for it to be torn away all of a sudden… We became so close… He wanted me to take over the mantle of Spider-man and I just… I can’t let him down…”

Ganke sat in silence for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts before speaking, “I get that you want to take over the mantle of your mentor, but common man. Take a breather. We’re teenagers and you're burning yourself out. Peter wouldn’t want you to burn yourself out like this. You need this break.” 

Silence fell in the dorm room once again as both boys started their homework. It wasn’t long for Miles to find himself tapping his pencil against his desk. Ganke’s words floating about in his mind. With a weary sigh, Miles re-read the packet that he pulled out from where he had stuffed it in a text book. “Your right… I do need a break.” 

Ganke grinned widely and kicked off to roll over to his friend, “That a boy!” he cheered, slapping his friend’s shoulder, “Now then, let's talk support items! I've had this idea on making little nubs for your gloves that can discharge electricity for like a week now! I bet you’d like it! The trip is supposed to be in Late February, right? We have so much time! We can test them after school! You can even put them to use on the field when you do actual combat during Christmas break’s field studies!” Miles snorted at his friend's enthusiasm. 

Miles Morales. Age 15. Seat 9. Student Rank 4. Hero Name: Spider-man. Quirk: Dolophanes Conifera.

Has characteristics of a wrap around spider. He can camouflage with his surroundings and shoot spiderwebs from a small hole from his wrists. He can effortlessly cling and climb walls thanks to the settles on his hands and feet. Is most active during the night. If he bites anyone, a venom is injected to temporarily stun his victim.

Hand to hand, fast reflexes, flexible

____

A raven haired boy with bright blue eyes groaned in frustration as he slammed his face on the kitchen table. His older sister with red hair frowned with worry, “What’s wrong, Danny?”

“Mr. Lancer handed out some packet for heroes and, like it sounds like fun, but it doesn’t allow trio teams.” Danny responded as he rested his chin on the table.

“Hero? I thought Tucker is in for support, while Sam handles the business aspect when you guys started your own agency?” The older sibling frowned in confusion.

Danny sticks his lower lip out in a pout, “Well, yeah but…” He sits up right, “Sam and Tucker are encouraging me to sign up, and It’s cool and all, but… I just…” The boy paused, turning over the words in his head in an attempt to organize them. His sister waited patiently for him to speak again, “I’ve never felt so… lonely I guess. Like… Tucker and, surprisingly enough, Kyle are going to be handling the Support items and any other tech-savvy stuff. Sam has Wes for business stuff, even if they do argue a lot, but I… have nobody.” The boy buries his face in his hands, “It’s stupid, I know…”

“W - what about Valery? She wants to be a hero too, right? You two were pretty close…?” His sister tries to reassure.

“Yeah, but she hates my guts now, Jazz. Remember the whole incident I told you about with quirk training?”

His older sister frowns at this. Her blue eyes looked over to the packet her brother had set aside. Taking it, she read it over silently before smiling softly, “Well, I definitely agree with Sam and Tucker that you should apply.” 

Danny looks up with a frown, “But I’d be all alone…” 

“Danny, the whole point of the program is to meet young aspiring heroes your own age. I'm sure you’ll make a friend or two while you’re out there.” Handing her brother the packet, she watched as his eyes roamed over the words again. 

“I… I guess you’re right.”

Jazz smiles reassuringly at her brother, “Of course I’m right. Now then, let me help you fill that thing out.” 

Daniel James Fenton. Age 16. Seat 8. Student Rank 5. Hero Name: Phantom, Quirk: - REDACTED - Ghost.

After turning four, his quirk, cryokinesis, had manifested. When he was 11 he was involved in a lab accident that -REDACTED- mutated his quirk. He can now turn invisible at will, walk through solid objects, fly, minor telekinesis, ghost wail, cryokinesis. He has no need to breathe, can last a week without food. 

Hand to hand, night vision, stealth, enhanced hearing. 

Chapter 1 Part 2

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CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: KANTO

So this is a character description for the character Kanto that @precious-metal-girl and I created for AUs where he is in a loving and committed relationship with Toph Beifong. Part of this is to help me keep track of all of his features and personality traits, and if others are looking to write about Kanto but aren't sure about how to describe him, feel free to pick and choose characteristics that meet your AU needs! This will (hopefully) be a living document where characteristics are added and changed over time. If you are curious about our AUs or want to know about a particular trait/personality, feel free to ask us questions!

......

Born: ~88/89 AG (summer)

Residence: Republic City

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Green

Element: Earthbending/Metalbending

Occupation: Deputy for the Republic City Police Department, Metalbender Division

Nicknames: Hotshot, Dep (short for Deputy), Slick, Botany Boy, Pretty Boy, Metalbrain, Metalhead, Rockhead, K, My Rock

Relationship: Toph Beifong

Background:

Kanto grew up near one of the Fire Nation colonies close to what is Republic City today (part of the reason why his name has FN influence). His father took many different jobs and tried to avoid fighting in the war as long as possible so he could stay with his family, while his mother was a seamstress for the town. Often, he would help his mother sew clothes, and because of that he was pretty crafty and good with his hands. He lost his parents at age 7; old enough to remember them and his childhood, but all the memories are pretty blurry.

What he does remember is that his family was pretty poor, but they always had something to laugh about.

He loved learning new skills with his dad, and had his mom read the same two books they had every single night. And one thing he always remembers is eating together as a family.

His parents died either in an accident for rebelling against a FN rule (maybe the FN wanted to take Kanto away for being an earthbender), or from protecting Kanto in general.

Kanto was always pretty feisty as a boy, pushing people’s buttons and egging people on. It only got worse when his parents died because he pushed buttons out of anger now.

He also had a lot of friends, but after, he didn’t talk to anyone for a while because he ran away. Most of his fighting skills were learned while on the run, he never got any formal training until he went to the metalbending academy (maybe 17 or 18? Toph managed a different part of the academy so she didn’t know him. That or he went to a different academy branch entirely).

One thing he remembers is that he was happiest with his family, so he cherishes the idea of a happy family unit, and he constantly searched for something that made him feel close to that happiness.

Personality:

The first impression people get of Kanto is that he is a no-good, arrogant, bad boy. He acts as if he’s the coolest person in town and always has something sassy to say in response. More than half of the words that come out of Kanto’s mouth are flirtatious and sarcastic, a combination that initially drives Toph Beifong crazy.

But in reality, Kanto is an extremely loyal man who’s rather selfless, putting himself in harm’s way so no one else has to. His initial personality is a front to protect himself so that he doesn’t befriend anyone too much, because he knows what it’s like to love people and lose them. He hated how he felt when he was orphaned and never wanted to feel that way again.

When his facade finally cracks with Toph and she sees the real him, he’s actually… a dork.

He’s got a very goofy personality, he gets excited about little things, and his passions do not necessarily align with his looks and his first impression. When he loves people, he does so with his full heart, but again, he’s hesitant to do so with many… His family are essentially the only ones that see him this way.

Looks:

Kanto is most certainly a hunk. He’s got a similar skin complexion to Toph, thick and wavy (borderline curly) black hair (Toph loves playing with it), broad chest and shoulders (a fit and toned body overall), a mischievous, slightly crooked grin (left corner turns up higher than the right) that makes all the women of RC swoon, a crooked nose from being punched in the face one too many times, and classic earthbender green eyes. He’s also pretty tall, that’s where Lin gets her height from, well over a head taller than Toph And despite being an earthbender, his hands and fingers are actually rather long and nimble. Some popular fanart interpretations of Kanto can be found here and here and here and here and here.

Interests:

Kanto likes flowers, he often brings new ones home (especially when he’s with Toph) so he can teach her about its qualities and so they have a nice and natural floral scent in their home. He’s obsessed with pro bending like Toph, and often will attend matches with her. Astronomy and biology are also interests of his. Toph and Kanto also have a cool rock collection, both are trying to best each other to find the coolest one. Kanto reads science fiction novels to Toph in their downtime and he’ll play the guitar or pipa.

Fears:

Kanto is afraid of bugs, he doesn’t care for large fires that can get out of control, and big animals make him nervous at first contact. When Lin’s in the picture, he freaks out when there are too many sharp corners in one place. He’s always afraid she’s gonna fall and hit her head. Kanto also doesn’t like those rip tides or currents in oceans/large bodies of water.

Some of his deeper level fears include losing his family. He cannot stand the idea of losing Lin or Toph, especially if the reason they are missing or gone is because of him. He’s lost his family before, and he’ll be damned if he loses them again.

Flaws:

A lot of his flaws stem from his stubbornness and confidence. He’s arrogant, overconfident, prideful, and impatient. He knows he’s good at his job and he’s not afraid to talk about his skills and talents, and unless he’s working specifically with Toph, he assumes he’s the best for the job.

He’s flirty, sarcastic, reckless, and a bit of a slob (just his home, he keeps a clean appearance). Kanto’s constantly ragging on coworkers, has comments for days, and it’s rare for him to speak in a serious tone while on the job. Just doesn’t happen.

He’s protective, reckless, a troublemaker, skeptical, and vengeful. When he actually finds love and has a family, he is extremely protective, to the point where if criminals threaten his family, he’s not afraid to take the law into his own hands to eradicate the problem. One of these would be his fatal flaw, maybe vengeful? His vengeful tendency could be from a need to retaliate to protect his family from a threat, and that ultimately may take him down.

His flaws mainly seem to come from his overconfident front that he gives to the world. He doesn’t let too many in, or, he lets people in, but they don’t see the real him. Kanto doesn’t trust people right away, but it’s easy to get along with everyone if you just have this confident and charismatic face on. But his ‘face’ seeped into his actual personality, so there are times when he shouldn’t blurt out the first stupid comment in his head, but he does.

Gaang First Impressions:

Aang: He’s always extremely happy and excited to meet new partners, so he was thrilled to meet Kanto. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but Aang is great at being friends with everyone despite the differences, so there’s no animosity.

Katara: She’s skeptical at first, because Kanto acts like a douche and has a bad boy persona. Katara just doesn’t want to see Toph get hurt, so she interrogates the man a bit (a lot), but even though the things he says concern her, he’s a gentleman to Toph, very attentive to her needs. So, maybe he’s not so bad… Later on, she knows the bad boy look was all a facade and that Kanto is a sweetheart, and she grows to really like Kanto.

Zuko: He gives Kanto a very cold shoulder at first. He’s very protective of Toph because he thinks of her as a little sister. So, he crosses his arms, glares a bit, and Kanto glares back because that’s what he does at first. But then, they start going on double dates, and Zuko and Kanto turn out to have a lot more in common than they realize. They’re buddies now!

Sokka: Sokka’s attitude really depends on ship preference with him, but in most HC’s, he’s Toph’s best friend, so he would also be distant with Kanto. He wouldn’t like how cocky he is, or that he’s super tall and talented at many things… he’s not a fan. However, Toph is always super happy around Kanto, he makes her laugh, and no one is allowed to insult Toph without an ass whooping from both Kanto and Toph, so, he warms up to the guy. He’s been seen buying Kanto a beer after a long day of work as a truce, and he often goes to Kanto if he needs police paper signed and expedited (Kanto does the same with Sokka, it evens out).

Suki: Suki is pretty chill about it all. She’s pretty perceptive about personalities and whatnot, and she can detect a bit of a bad boy mask. So, she treats the introduction casually and is super cordial with Kanto. They never become best friends or anything, but she was one of his first “allies” in the Gaang, and for that he is forever grateful.

Other Facts:

His mannerisms are that he walks with a slow swagger. Often the slowest of the group, he takes his time whenever he walks places. But don’t let that fool you—he can sprint really fast. He leans back in almost all of his chairs, sometimes he leans too far back. Kanto was a notorious manspreader when he would sit down, but since being with Toph, she put a stop to that instantly. When he’s restless, he bounces his leg a lot, and usually only stops if Toph reminds him (usually a hand to his leg to calm him down). Kanto also runs his hand through his hair a ton to either push it off his face, or just on instinct. He fidgets with his hands, too, Toph does as well. Usually, the two will hold hands or play with each other’s fingers to ‘remedy’ their nervous tick. In extremely stressful situations (like an AU where Lin is kidnapped), Kanto usually throws up and doesn’t sleep at all.

Kanto’s voice is a mix of a rural and city accent, once Republic City becomes prominent. He uses slang in his speech often and mainly uses city words (he picked up a lot of city lingo when interacting with criminals and undercover work back in the day). There are a few words and phrases from his childhood that he uses that scream ‘rural kid’ and that is mainly when the distinction in his accent and speech is picked up. His voice is smooth and deep when he casually talks. When he yells, it becomes a bit gravelly and husky sounding. Oddly enough, when he whispers, the same thing happens.

Kanto smells like the earth or something with a forestry scent (cedar comes to mind). He wears cologne, and the scents he usually goes for are ones that smell like earth, wood, or resin. Kanto likes wearing cologne, but he can’t put too much on, otherwise it bothers Toph’s nose, and he typically checks to see which ones Toph likes, and he’ll purchase that cologne again because he knows she likes the smell. He naturally smells a bit like metal and dirt and a bit of smoke (he was a casual smoker before he had Lin). All these scents are not prominent, but by the end of the day, these are the scents that can usually be detected.

Some of his pet peeves include fake apologies, when people kick or shake the chair he is sitting in, any slightly insulting remark toward Toph, close talkers, people that interrupt frequently, and those that correct his grammar.

Kanto canonically only has one daughter, Lin. In this AU, he’s a loving and committed father who emphasizes putting his family first and protecting them. He doted and hovered over Toph while she was pregnant, cried tears of joy when Lin was born, and is very attentive and caring toward Lin. He’s the one that soothes her when she cries out at night, he’ll get up in the morning with her so Toph can sleep in, and when he comes home from work, he smothers her in kisses and gives her raspberries on the belly (affectionate). Even as a baby, Lin was a Daddy’s girl and Kanto spoiled her as much as possible.

In the relatively canon compliant AU, Kanto dies when Lin is about 6 months old. He left for work, had a run-in with a bloodbender (or an accident on the job), and never returned home. On the day of his death, Kanto planned on proposing to Toph, but never got the chance.

Lin knew about her father growing up, but he wasn’t talked about often because it is a touchy subject for Toph (and for most that knew him well). On her 13th birthday, Lin receives the engagement ring on a necklace, along with a handwritten letter from Kanto.

There are many AUs and headcanons related to where he lives, but those are very fluid and change all the time!

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Loyalty

A/N: I got inspiration for this piece from the Tumblr account @xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx​ (I got their permission to tag them!) however I think they’re a wonderful writer and always one of the top ones with a huge amount of Gerard x Reader fics that I keep on crawling back to. They have a work called “Gotham City Rivals” (with two parts) that I fell in love with and decided to do my own spinoff of with their idea. I also don’t know that much about any DC comics, most of Gerard’s character in this is based off of Bruce Wayne, but I didn’t do a bunch of research so I apologize for any inaccuracies. Hope you guys enjoy! Pairing: Batman!Gerard x Catwoman!Reader Word count: 2,781 Warnings: Angst, minor fighting, swear words, injury, mentions of blood.

You slipped off your skin tight suit with a harsh gasp, your teeth grinding together at the rough cuts that the latex and leather of your suit now brushed against. Yet the sounds of a hot shower and the steam that you could already see promised some element of relief to the pain. “You alright?” You heard your boyfriend walk in the room, armor still on in it’s completion besides his mask and gloves that he was currently carelessly throwing on the marble counter.

“Yeah, I think so.” You responded, examining the damage of your wounds in the mirror. “Not the worse I’ve taken.” Reflecting back on the various gun shots and stabs you’ve received over the years.

He came over, standing behind you. His metal armor always looked so good on him, solid black with small decals that you felt lucky enough you only got to see. He gave small kisses on the cuts and bruises along your shoulder and collarbones. It wasn’t in a sexual way, more in a caring one.

He finally decided to take off his suit as well, revealing his soft muscles but well built frame. You always found it funny how comic and cartoon artists portrayed real life heroes. They ignore your hip dips, made your waist the size of a pencil, and even overemphasized your boobs. And with Gerard, well, he was actually a lot like what artists portrayed him as, maybe just a little less triangle shaped.

“Next time,” You sighed as you look at him in the mirror that was now fogging with steam, his eyes on yours through the reflection, “You’re taking more hits.” He lightly laughed.

“Fine.” He agreed with a kind smile, “If you insist.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Gerard, I don’t know anything about those two!” You paced around his marble office trying to explain to him, “They are batshit crazy. They hold no patterns, no compunction, it’s part of their game and it makes it fun for them.” Your feet hastily moved back and forth on the gray tiled floor, the only light source was the sun creeping through the gray clouds outside and small desk-lamps around the large room.

“You’ve worked with her a few times,” He argued back from across his desk where he sat, “You have to know something.” “Those ‘two times’ happened probably five years ago, and it was exchanging files for some cash that’s it.” You sighed, “They don’t have a plan, ever, that’s what I’m telling you. Gerard, I know you’re incredibly smart and think with a plan. And the Joker’s really fucking smart too, but he’s also mentally insane and has no grip on himself other than to kill. He’s like a wild fucking animal.” Your boyfriend leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, his finger holding his temple together as he collected himself. “If I could help you on this, you know I would in a heartbeat.”

“Would you though?” His anger was growing, both he and you knew it. In fact, the entire room and all its objects were now drowning in the tension.

“What?” You asked barely above a whisper and through teeth clenched together, eyebrows furrowing as your vision grew red. There was no response. “If you’re questioning the integrity of my current work then fuck off. You’re too scared to kill the man, and now you’re gonna put some of this one me?” You snapped, he remained emotionless. Damn he was good at his job. “Go fuck yourself Gerard.” And with that, you stormed out of the room and up to your shared bedroom.

This stupid mansion he lived in was still a maze to you, and stomping through it in your utter fit of rage didn’t help, the sound of your feet bouncing off the large halls. It made your head want to explode.

You had never once blown up on him in your two years of dating and partnership. But never had he ever questioned your morals, or more importantly your loyalty. And you were expecting some form of an apology in the least.

Sure, you felt a little bad about bringing up his own methods of working. He had his extremely valid reasons, but it was a button to push in response to him pushing yours. You knew you would apologize eventually, but you needed him to come to you first.

After all, he was the one acting like a child. It was almost like an interrogation of you, despite the fact you had told him countless times that you knew nothing about the Joker or Harley. Other than the two deals you made with them in your early days for some extra money, those two were wild cards.

So you sat in the absurdly big California king with decorated in a gray and black and decided to do some breathing exercises so you didn’t use the wall as a knife throwing target.

It was hours, no, more than hours before you saw your lover again. And if it wasn’t for your stomach grumbling in hunger you would’ve stayed cooped up in the room. You wandered your way into the grand kitchen, beginning to look for whatever you could.

Grabbing a cookie from a batch you had baked just the day before, you began brewing some coffee for yourself. Of course you didn’t hear Gerard walk in, since you two had begun this whole partner/dating thing he had begun picking up on some of your specialties, such as being extremely quiet. On missions and such you were thankful for it, considering his armor was quite clunky, but now you regretted it.

The two of you didn’t even acknowledge each other’s presence, despite the fact that you were only a few feet a way. It was like a silent game, but just completely ignoring each other. It was like the other person didn’t even exist.

But the tension was a whole other level. You literally felt suffocated by how tense it was. And you knew your lover felt the same. With the extremely small glances you took you were able to piece together how he was definitely a form of uncomfortable, his emotions starting to break through, which you knew they would eventually.

You decided once your drink was done to leave the room, leaving Gerard and the extreme conflict behind. Well, some of it at least. And back in your room you grew bored, fast.

You didn’t want to show your weak side, determination to not be the first to apologize flowed through your veins. So, you decided to relieve your stress the way you always did.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You heard Gerard’s voice echo through the hallway next to you. Your skintight suit hugged your body, kitten heels hitting the ground in rhythm.

“Going out.” You replied.

“In your suit?” He questioned, this time grabbing your arm tightly with his hand. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh?” You questioned, turning to him and eyeing him through your mask, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Don’t test me.” He warned, his voice growing deep. This time, you pulled your arm harshly from his grip, which he didn’t fight back.

“That’s what I thought.” You spat, walking off.

Patrols were not the most enjoyable thing, the only time they were was when you were stressed and needed something to take your mind off of all your problems. A relationship limiting argument between you and your boyfriend was a perfect example.

Very rarely, if ever, did big stuff happen in Gotham. Small crimes like robberies, domestic cases, so on and so forth could be dealt with by the excuse of a police department the city had to offer. You were wondering when the federal government would finally come and kick a shoe up their ass.

It was funny, Gerard with all his power, I mean being the Gerard Way (despite the fact absolutely no one knew he was Batman) still couldn’t convince major officials to bring in more backup despite his numerous requests hidden in comments within conversations. The excuse was always that Gotham didn’t need help: they had Batman.

And let’s not forget his stealthy partner who did a lot of the work as well, the wonderful Catwoman who always got overlooked by the patriarchal influences that still flushed their way into society today. You scoffed at it.

On your earpiece you heard an incoming for an “escalating situation” at one of the prisons, which was just icing on the already destroyed caked for “a bunch of dangerous prisoners just got out.” Great.

It took you less than five minutes to be at the scene, strutting in and flashing your badge. It wasn’t that you actually needed one, it was just for good measure.

You got led through the dozens of police cars lining the outside of the prison all with flashing lights and a few sirens still going, escorted by one of the main detective inside where you were met with another officer talking to the one and only man himself.

Those hazels eyes hidden well under the mask looked up and met yours, softening just a bit from the black optics of Batman’s as you approached him. “Catwoman.” He said in a stern tone.

“Batman.” You responded the same, arms crossed over your chest.

You were briefed on the situation: A bunch of highly dangerous criminals did escape and were on the loose. The police felt that they needed help because some may or may not have ties to the Joker, therefore it made it a case for you and Gerard to deal with.

“Be careful,” Gerard told you, the two of you walking side by side in the street on patrol and looking out, “I don’t want you getting hurt again.” “Please,” You scoffed, “These guys probably have guns and a destructed god complex. I don’t see a problem.” “Some of these are former Arkham patients.” He warned, “They could be dangerous. And crazy.” “Like we haven’t dealt with that before.” You reminded him, “Or more specifically me, because I could have connections, ya know?” A verbal stab for sure. He looked over and glared.

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” “So when we get home are you finally going to grow up and have one after the entirety of today?”

“I told you-” Before he could even finish the two of you were surrounded by men with guns and various other forms of highly illegal weaponry. “Shit.” He muttered.

“Yeah shit.” You responded as bullets began shooting towards you. A few of them managed to ricochet off of nearby metal beams hitting your attackers, while other nearly missed you as you managed to jump behind them. With a few solid kicks and swings you were able to disarm and knock out four or five of them, Gerard getting the other 10 of them or so considering his suit and physical ability was greater than yours.

“How many were there again?” You asked him.

“15.” He responded. You looked around, mentally counting the bodies.

“Perfect, 15.” You responded with a sigh. “Do they not know how to scatter?” He shook his head.

A deafening silence filled the car on your way home, the only thing being heard was the soft engine rumbling of the mobile. You were still going to be strong about this whole thing, despite the fact that you wanted it to be over with.

You looked around out of boredom, and down at your suit to see if there was any damage. And, well, there was more than damage. “Well, would you look at that,” You lightly laughed, looking at the left side of your torso where a big slash and blood was seeping through. You hadn’t noticed any pain or anything until you looked down.

“What the fuck?” He asked, looking down to from the road.

“Gee, pay attention to the road.” He reluctantly huffed and put his gaze back there.

“You have a huge fucking slash on your side.” “I know,” You commented, “Oh well, we’ll fix it when we get home.”

You hadn’t noticed his increase in speed or the extra few minutes he cut off as you pulled into the large and modern mansion. Before you could even step out of the car in the garage Gerard had already opened your car door and picked you up, carrying you bridal style.

“You know I can walk.” You lightly laughed, holding on to his arms, “I think it was just a bullet graze.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He placed you down on the couch, “Let me grab the first aid kit.”

He was gone for only a few moments, coming back with the kit in handy, no mask and gloves this time, with no time to remove his armor. It wasn’t a life threatening wound, that’s for sure. “May I?” He asked, motioning to the zipper on the back of your suit. It was so cute to you how he always asked, despite your years of being together. You nodded, moving your hair out of the way.

He took your suit off with ease, helping you step out despite the harsh feeling you got from the slash. Carefully he sat you back down, dabbing your wound with a bit of alcohol and making sure not to directly touch the affected area. There was a certain spot where he had to touch the wound with the cottonball. You couldn’t help but cringe and gasp at the painful feeling, shutting your eyes as it felt like your flesh was burning. “I’m sorry baby.” He commented, squeezing your thigh for support. “You’re doing so great.”

It took him only a few more minutes, and the two of you deciding stitches may be stretching it too far, for you to finally be all bandaged up. You slowly got up, Gerard coming right to you and helping to hold your hips up. “I would suggest a bath but-” “Not a good idea.” You lightly laughed, placing your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” You mumbled.

“No problem.” He responded, kissing the top of your head. “You alright?” You nodded as he picked you up again, taking you to the bedroom to rest.

He placed you lightly on the bed while removing the covers on the side you always slept. You crawled into the open area he had created, placing your wounded body onto the sheets and covering it up. “Do you want some pajamas?” He asked, now removing some of his suit, his unbrushed and tangled black hair fell just below his eyes.

“Yeah, actually,” You lightly smiled, “If you wouldn’t mind. This sports bra is kinda tight.” He nodded, walking into your closet and grabbing some sweatpants, while walking into his own to grab an old t-shirt, knowing those were your favorite things to wear.

He gave them to you, and stood there watching to which you rolled your eyes, “C’mon now, turn around.” You instructed, his eyes went wide with a form of embarrassment, “You don’t get to see my tits, yet.” He sighed, complying with you as you slipped your bra off and shirt on in a few seconds.

You decided against pants, considering that would take a lot of extra effort. So you just pulled the covers over you, sinking back in. “You can turn around now.” And Gerard did, looking at you with the shirt on and residing to his own side of the bed next to you.

You chose a petty play next, completely ignoring him, waiting for an apology. “I’m sorry.” He said, leaning back on the frame of the bed and looking at you. You looked back at him signaling him to do more explaining, “I’m sorry for questioning your loyalty and moral of your work. I know those two things matter to you very much, and I had no right to question either of those.” You took a moment to let the words settle in.

“Thank you,” You responded, “I’m sorry for bringing up the way you work. I know why you do it and I, too, didn’t have the right to do that either.” “Thank you.” He responded, both of you taking sighs of relief as most of the tension alleviated. “I love you.” He told you next. It had taken him a full year to speak those wonderful three words to you, and whenever he said them you always cherished the way they sounded.

“I love you too.” You responded with a small smile, placing your head on his shoulder which he happily complied with.

[sirrwritesalots]

Dance With Me? ~ Spencer Reid (fluff)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader [Y/n] Warnings: none, just fluff, and possibly mention of PG-13 (if it's even considered that?) Summary: The team is invited to an FBI gala-type event with food, music, and casual conversation, and everyone ultimately has a good time, especially you and Spencer, who find the chance to have a dance with one another as the air shifts between the two of you. [The imagine is set with all characters -Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia- and post-Maeve] Word Count: 1871 A/N: I love to write, but for the last few years, I’ve had horrible writer’s block, and I miss writing so much. This is my first imagine/creative writing thing I’ve posted on Tumblr, so bare with me please! I recently started watching Criminal Minds again, and this just popped into my head, so I figured why not? Though, Criminal Minds is not usually my genre, I wanted to give it a try (it might be cringy in some parts, I apologize). I hope whoever reads this enjoys it :)

Seeing as everyone on the BAU team was given a three-day-weekend off to have somewhat of a break, you all agreed to attend the FBI Ball Saturday night, giving you the day to relax and get ready.

That morning after you woke up, you had some breakfast and read a book by the window, followed by lunch and a nice, relaxing bath with rose oil, bath salts, and a lit candle. Once the water had gone cold and you were done with the bath, you decided to start getting ready for the plans you had later that evening, which consisted of blow drying and styling your hair, then applying some light - yet natural - makeup. Slipping into the dark blue evening dress with the strappy, laced-up back you picked out two weeks ago, you looked yourself up and down in the full-length mirror in your room with a smile on your face. It had been a long time since you had the chance to get dressed up and have a night of fun with friends, which is exactly what you were planning on doing; having fun. 

Work had been extremely stressful lately, for everyone - more so than usual, considering your line of work; being in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, where you work with serial killers day-in and day-out. One case in particular was rough on everyone; picked by the team’s communications liaison, JJ, you were flown out to Omaha, Nebraska to find an unsub who had a wide victimology and almost no similarities when it came down to location or anything else. You were there coming up on two whole weeks, when, after spending nearly forty-eight hours awake studying every detail, Spencer had found a similar signature connecting each murder. It wasn’t previously detected because it was so small it was easily overlooked, that is, until Derek and Rossi revisited every site and concluded that Spencer was right. At each location where a victim was found, a trinket of some sort was hidden, left behind as a sign of remorse. At first it made no sense, because each killing seemed too extreme to leave any room for remorse, not until the idea of a partner in crime was bounced around. Meaning that there were now two unsubs, one who was the alpha that controlled everything, and a second who most likely lured in the victims but only because they were told to rather than because they wanted to. Luckily, all the trinkets had traces of the unsub and their partner’s DNA left on it. That discovery soon led to tracking the unsub and chasing him down, where you and Emily went into the building first, to try and appeal to and reason with the submissive unsub, and would ultimately save the life of their latest victim. The plan went sideways when you two were met with the wrong one, and stepped into the middle of a trap... The unsub wanted a trade - the final victim for the two FBI agents - but the rest of the team, including the police force backing them up, were not about to have that. In the end, everyone was extracted and brought back to the precinct, except for the second unsub, who lost their life in the midst of the fight. 

To say the least, the team needed a break, and to have some fun.

Adding the final touch to your look -- a pair of black heels -- you grabbed your purse and jacket before locking the front door behind you and making your way to the car.

Once you were at the venue, a valet took your keys and parked your car for you. You stood on the curb, looking up at the gorgeous entrance of a high-end hotel. Before you could think about how all-out the bureau went, a familiar, deep voice spoke up on your right, “Damn Mama, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Turning, you came face-to-face with the most iconic duo of your team, Derek Morgan with Penelope Garcia standing beside him. Your cheeks flushed as you smiled, “You don’t look too bad yourself, hot stuff. Penelope, sweetheart, you look as wonderful as ever.”

“Please, I don’t think anyone here looks as good as you.” She waved her hand, a dismissal to your comment as she noticeably gawked at you.

“Why don’t we find out. Shall we?” You raised an eyebrow at them, tilting your head in the direction of the hotel.

“We shall.” Penelope disconnected herself from her chocolate thunder, and looped her arm with yours with a giggle as the three of you entered the building and followed the signs to the ballroom.

Tables filled with assorted foods line one wall while tables are scattered throughout the front half of the room, a live band played against the back wall, and the floor of the other half of the room was left unoccupied by furniture to leave space for dancing and mingling. You mentally thanked the event coordinator, whoever they might be, for ensuring the lights were dimmer than usual, since it gave your eyes a rest from the usual harsh office lights. 

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for the rest of your team, when your gaze landed on a man wearing a slick, dark gray suit and a maroon tie with his hair flopped perfectly over his forehead yet just out of reach of his eyes. You hadn't realized you were staring until Penelope had to practically drag you to where Emily and JJ were standing while Derek split with you guys to meet up with Rossi, Hotch, and Spencer.

“So, is anyone looking particularly yummy tonight?” Penelope asked Emily and JJ, bubbly before her first drink of the night as her eyes eagerly swept across the room. Typical Garcia. Gotta love her, though.

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m going to get a drink, anyone else want a one?” The girls gave you their requests, and you were off to the bar stationed near the wonderful display of food that you were sure to raid in a matter of time - that is, if your stomach had any say about it. "One-"

A voice interrupted you and finished your order before you could get more than a single word out, "Gin martini with a lemon twist." A smirk formed on your lips as you see who was standing next to you. "Oh! And chilled, but not on the rocks," Spencer added with a wink in your direction, a goofy smile plastered on his face to match your own.

"Spence, you remembered!"

"Y/n, I have an idetic memory; of course I remembered."

You rolled your eyes in response and ordered for the girls before you forgot as the bartender handed you your drink. "So, how's your evening so far?"

"Good. Met a couple of Rossi's friends, one of which was an older woman who touched my arm a lot, though I don't know why..."

You chuckled and shook your head. "Oh, you poor innocent boy."

"Innocent?" He raised an eyebrow at you, faking offense, as he helped you carry the drinks to the table the girls were standing around. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Why shouldn't I be when you make comments like that?" you countered. "Alright," you announced, cutting the conversation short before it can lead to anywhere presumptuous in front of company, you name off the drinks as you and Spencer place them in front of their respective owners.

Spencer took his place by your side, his arm pressed against yours and his gaze fixated on you, waiting patiently for you to notice or make another comment from your earlier conversation. The girls hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, seeing as you and Spencer had become the absolute best of friends in a short amount of time when you first joined the group, which meant the two of you were in very close proximity to one another about ninety-percent of the time. They were also too busy to notice over their ogling of the other attendees.

"You're staring," you murmured over your glass to him as you took a sip of your martini before stealing a quick glance up at him, then returning your eyes back to the crowd forming in the room. Rossi, Hotch, and Derek were still nowhere to be seen from your spot.

"Sorry," you heard him whisper, his eyes still stationed on you for a moment before he looked around as well. 

The live band began to play one of your favorite songs by Frank Sinatra, Fly Me To The Moon, and you couldn't help the smile that brightened your whole face after you took another sip of your drink.

The warmth that accompanied Spencer when he stood as close to you as he had been suddenly disappeared, making your heart unexpectedly quicken in a mix of worry and disappointment at the loss of contact. Then, when a throat cleared, and you saw him still standing next to you only a little farther away than he originally was with his hand extended and a lopsided smile on his face as hope flickered bright in his eyes. Your anxiety calmed, and was replaced with joy.

"Care to dance?"

Taking his hand, you stepped closer to him and replied, "I'd love to," as he led the two of you to the dance floor.

There, he pulled you closer to him, your bodies pressed against one another, as his hand slid behind you to rest easily on the small of your back while his other hand held one of yours, and your other hand took place on his shoulder. The two of you swayed as the music filled your ears.

You felt content in that moment. So happy with your friends, music, and food and drink. You couldn't think of a better way to spend an evening during your weekend off. Hopefully you wouldn't spoil it all by accidentally drinking too much and either a) managing to somehow embarrass yourself before the night is over or b) having to nurse a killer hangover the next morning - the last day of freedom before being called back into work the following day.

You felt Spencer's eyes on you once more. Though it wasn't creepy or unsettling; with him it never seemed to feel that way. Instead, it warmed your body, making your cheeks flush and your chest flutter.

"You're staring again." When he refused to take his eyes off you, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "You seem to do it a lot. Why is that?"

"Possibly because you always look amazing. Except tonight; tonight you look... radiant."

"Oh, please... you're only saying that because you've never seen me all dressed up like this before." You dip your head rest on the side of his own in an attempt to hide your face, not from embarrassment, but rather to hide how red your cheeks had become in a mere matter of seconds by the few simple words he uttered.

"No, I'm not. Y/n, look at me, please." His voice was gentle yet serious as his fingers gently guided your chin up so you could properly look at him. "I mean it."

[procrastinatorimagines]

I Want Us Part 3

Fandom: SVU / One Chicago

Series: I Want Us

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 (Final)

Pairing: Carisi x Reader

Warning/s: kidnapping, guns/shooting

Word Count: 2,602

Summary:  When a child abduction case crosses state lines in New York, Intelligence flies out to meet the Special Victims Unit and track down the missing boy. With the clock ticking, both units decide to mix up partners in order to combine their knowledge of the case with knowledge of New York City, pairing Intelligence’s newest member Y/N with Detective Carisi. After a successful stakeout the pair finds themselves on the tail of the suspect, determined to bring him to justice and bring the boy back home.

Tags: @the-baby-bookworm​ // @inlovewith3​ //

Action came sooner than you were expecting, both you and Carisi silently agreeing that the gun shots that sounded from inside the building constituted absolutely necessary as burst from the car, gun out your holster in seconds as you peered around the fence.

A man was running out of the building, Ronny you assumed by the child he was forcefully dragging along under his left arm. Even in the available light, it was clear both were unharmed, the metalic glint of an object in Ronny’s right hand causing you to make the fair assumption that he’d fired the shots you heard.

There was no way to sneak up on him, but soon you lost all need to as he paused by the car he’d arrived in, hesitating before frantically looking around and taking off down the road and into the night.

“We can’t lose him,” you said forcefully, both of you making your way quickly to the entrance of the bar just as another car rolled up. Halstead and Rollins jumping out.

“We’ve got Ronny and Logan, there are at least two men inside, potentially injured,” Carisi told the others, you and Halstead sharing a nod as you followed Carisi down the street, hearing the others disappear into the building followed shortly by a request for two ambulances to their location over the radio.

You followed just behind Carisi, hands gripping your gun as you made your way down the street, footsteps echoing in the silent night. Ronny had heard, glancing back at you before picking up his pace, but if your footsteps could be heard down the road, Logan’s cries and shouts were unmissable. He disappeared around a corner and you lowered your gun slightly in one hand, sprinting with Carisi, the sound of Logan’s despair all the motivation you needed to not slow down for a second.

Not only had this man abducted his own child, he’d just shot two men in front of him. You didn’t understand how anyone could do that, and you never wanted to.

As you reached the corner Carisi signaled for you to hold back, checking the coast was clear before you took off running again, Ronny still on the move. He was getting slower though, you realised, and you weren’t surprised given the uncooperative child under his arm.

He peeled off down and ally as you continued to give chase, seemingly trying to lose you both with his various twists and turns. It wouldn’t work though, you had him now and he wasn’t getting away.

Stopping again to check the coast it was your turn to peer around the edge of a wall, your head barely going an inch before you jumped back, brick breaking off where your head had just been.

“Dead end,” Carisi whispered to you, apparently knowing where you were. Ronny was trapped, which may have been worse you realised with a sinking feeling. He was already a desperate man, and desperate men often thought they had nothing left to lose.

“Ronny!” You called down the ally, your voice bouncing off the stones as Logan’s sobs quietened. “Ronny there’s nowhere else to go, just put the gun down and let us take you in, it’s over, no one else has to get hurt.” You tried to sound demanding but it came out as more of a plea.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said back, though it sounded like he was talking more to himself than you, “he’s my son, mine! He should be with me, it’s what I deserve-”

Your blood was boiling, knowing full well that all that man deserved was a jail cell. Still, you could tell he was unravelling, and that wasn’t good for anyone, least of all Logan. With a ‘trust me’ look to Carisi you holstered your gun, taking a breath as you stepped out into the opening of the ally, in full view of Ronny and his gun.

Carisi’s eyes went wide in protest and he reached out to pull you back but you shook your head at him. Looking down to Ronny and Logan, you were staring down the barrel of a gun, hands raised as Ronny stood frozen, not expecting you to be so stupid probably. You got that a lot.

“Hey Ronny, hey Logan, my name’s Y/N, I’m a detective with the Chicago police department,” you told them, keeping your hands where he could see them at all times. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Carisi with his finger on the trigger, ready to jump in if this got out of hand.

“Don’t come any closer!” Ronny waved the gun in his hand at you.

“I won’t,” you told him, “okay, I just want to talk okay? See if we can figure this out huh, so how about you tell me what happened?” Make him think you understand him, sympathise with him, make him think your on his side and let his guard down, de-escalate the situation.

“He’s my son, but she wouldn’t let me have him, wouldn’t even let me see him when I was inside, and when I got out... a restraining order?! What gave her the right? No... no no no, so I took him, I took what was mine and I came here, O’Connell promised- he promised!” Ronny ranted as you tried to keep your features neutral as images of the beat down he’d done to his ex wife flashed through your head.

“He lied to you, broke that promise,” you prodded, trying to sound indignant on his behalf so he’d open up more.

“Yes! Said there was too much publicity, he wouldn’t risk getting us out the country, I mean the selfishness- I did what I had to do,” He told you, gun lowering slightly as he poured out some of his frustration.

You inched yourself forward a step, then another, noticing Carisi practically stop breathing from where he stood, completely alert and ready to step in.

“And he shouldn’t have done that, okay, I get it, you’re the victim here alright, so why don’t you put the gun down and we can talk about that huh,” you tried, “it’s clear you love your son okay? Look at him Ronny, look at how scared he is.”

Ronny glanced down at his boy as you took the chance to take another couple of small steps. He was shaking and pale, snot and tears covering his face as his bottom lip shook uncontrollably.

“No!” Ronny snapped, gun back up at you as Logan shrunk back in fear, “you’re scaring him, this is all you!”

You level your breathing and straightened up, “I’m not the one holding a gun Ronny,” you said with a scary calm, watching the realisation dawn on Ronny as he looked from the gun in hand, to his son, who was staring at the weapon with trepidation.

“I...” he floundered. Was he a monster? Yes, but every monster had a weakness.

“Give me the gun Ronny,” you told him as he glanced from it to you, not really registering how much closer to him you had been in the beginning.

“You’ll take me back to jail, I can’t go back to jail,” he muttered, but the gun looked suddenly very heavy in his outstretched hand as he weighed the decision in his mind.

You were very close to him now, so close that what happened next was too quick for Carisi to react to. Logan took that moment to bolt, his father’s grip on him slacking enough for him to break free as he ran past you to try and get away. You didn’t blame him for a second, if you were his age you would have done the same thing, you’d even been anticipating it.

So when Ronny’s focus snapped back, rage filling his eyes again as he now viewed you as someone else trying to keep him from his son, grip tightening back on his gun again with a new found purpose as he began to take aim, you were ready.

Carisi barely had time to step out from around the corner, gun raised but unable to take a clear shot as a small boy collided with him, hiding behind his legs as his father let out a cry of anger.

Ronny was fast, but you were faster, catching his wrist and twisting it around so you ended up behind him, his arm behind his back as you aimed a kick to the back of one of his knees, knocking him to the ground. Ronny tried to twist but you was it coming, shoving him forward so he lost balance and sprawled onto his front on the floor. You kicked the gun across the floor and out of his reach, planting your knee on his back as he struggled, grappling with his wrists as you cuffed him.

“Ronny Parker, you’re under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder,” you told him, looking up and grinning at a relieved Carisi just as the glorious sound of sirens could be heard approaching from down the street.

Carisi put a comforting hand on Logan’s head as he continued to hug the man’s knees, shaking his head at your actions as you hauled the protesting Ronny to his feet.

Logan looked away as his father was brought past him, struggling to get away from you as you held him fast.

“That was... reckless,” Carisi commented, earning a smug wink from you as you passed Ronny off to a couple of uniforms that had arrived on the scene, the rest of Intelligence and SVU in tow.

“It’s her middle name,” you heard Antonio say, turning to see him approaching with Voight and Benson, who carefully coaxed Logan away from Carisi’s legs.

“Well Logan’s safe and Ronny’s going back to jail for a long time, good job guys,” Benson congratulated you both.

“Honestly Cap? All her,” Carisi told her, gesturing with his head in your direction as Antonio clapped you on the back. You put your hands in your pockets, accepting the praise as you tried to cover up the fact that your hands were shaking.

“Good job detective, you ever consider a change of scenery you let me know,” Benson told you.

“You trying to poach my detectives?” Voight asked and Benson chuckled, saying something to a uniform before Logan was escorted back to a vehicle. He seemed a little reluctant, but at the mention of his mom he couldn’t have moved quicker if he’d tried.

You smiled as you watched Logan wander off, back to his family and his home. You wanted to go with him, but you knew you’d have a lot of paperwork to do before the night was actually over, and it was already past 3 am.

“Hey,” Carisi appeared beside you as he removed his vest, “want a ride back to the station?”

You took a breath of the not so cool night air, sweaty from the heat and the chase, in desperate need of some food and a shower, then sleep. But you weren’t finished just yet, so you gave an appreciative nod to Carisi and let Voight know that you were going to make your statement and write up your report.

He let you go and soon you were making your way down the street with Carisi, back to your car near the bar, which was currently swarming with police and forensics. Carisi greeted a few of them in passing and before you knew it you were driving back to the district.

“Your gut was right afterall,” Carisi noted. You’d found Logan, he was safe, and Ronny wasn’t going to ever be able to hurt him again. It had been a long night, but you’d done good, so you allowed yourself a moment of satisfaction.

“Hell of a night, but yeah I guess so,” you replied, staring off out of the window as the buildings and lights passed by. New York was something else, and you wished you’d gotten a chance to see more of it under better circumstances, and during the day, but it had certainly been memorable.

Your hands weren’t shaking quite so much anymore, but jumping in front of a man with a loaded gun had certainly rattled you more than you’d let on. It had been reckless, more so than usual, but your need to protect Logan and get Ronny behind bars had overridden that bit of sense. It had paid off this time, but you really did have to be more careful, or so Antonio kept telling you.

You turned back from the window when you noticed Carisi throw you a couple of glances as he drove. “You know, there’s a pizza place not too far from here, they’re not gourmet, but they are open this time of night.”

Before you could answer, your stomach growled, earning a laugh from Carisi as he changed course, discussing the best toppings as he did.

Soon, you were both back at his desk at the district, a couple of others had came and went, offering pats on the back for a job well done, but you and Carisi found yourself talking even further into the night until both the paperwork and pizza were done, feeling very satisfied.

“I’ll be the first to admit this isn’t the truest representation of the best New York pizza,” Carisi laughed, throwing on his jacket as you both got up to leave.

It was going on half 4 in the morning, and any food and drink you had after dark hit differently, especially after a long case on a nearly empty stomach. “You won’t hear me complaining,” you replied.

God, you needed a shower, you thought as you put your jacket over your arm, knowing that it would just feel way too uncomfortable and hot to put it on. Voight had booked you all into some cheap motels for the night, but the picture Vanessa had sent you earlier on was making you dread the experience. Carisi had visibly cringed when he’d seen it.

“I know I should probably head to sleep when I get home, but I’m still a little too wired,” Carisi said as you made your way towards the exit.

“I know what you mean,” you told him, eyes and mind still wide awake after the events of the night.

“What, not looking forward to getting back to your five star accommodation?” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“God don’t remind me,” you complained, earning a laugh at your expense, “but it’s either that or sleep on the street... though the street might actually be more appealing.”

A odd kind of silence filled the elevator then, neither of you seeming to know what to say next before the doors dinged open and you wandered out back into the night, or well, more like very early morning.

“You could... stay somewhere else?” Carisi offered, half awkwardly half suggestively. Was he, suggesting what you thought he was?

Your heart skipped a beat, taking in Carisi as he stood before you, a look on his face that definitely told you he was unsure of whether he should have said that or not. You were still wired, and you’d had half a mind to do a quick workout back at the motel to let off some more steam to try and take a grimey shower and sleep, but that was before you now had another option...

“Lead the way,” you answered, smiling as he did too, your night in New York continuing to surprise you in the best possible ways...