#need to start putting police tape at child level

[kugisakiss]

better work it out quick keibu, before conan steals your job

#detective conan #megure juuzo #takagi wataru #edogawa conan #need to start putting police tape at child level #my art

[marshmallow-phd]

Bottom of the Glass

Genre: Bodyguard!AU, Angst

Pairing: Jinyoung  x Reader

Summary: It’d been almost ten years since you left the life of glitz and cameras behind, never looking back. But someone refused to let go. When danger comes knocking, your father insists on hiring the best to keep you safe. Reluctant, you agree. Park Jinyoung is constantly by your side, but as the stalker gets closer, will he be able to keep you safe without getting too close himself?

Part: 1 I 2

**

This was the kind of life you always should have lived.

Teenage you wouldn’t be able to understand. That girl was too lost in the flashing lights and the glamor of magazine covers to understand the sacrifices that came with that lifestyle. Those things felt trivial: regular school, normal sleeping hours, being in charge of your own image and your daily activities. What was a classroom compared to flying to Paris for Fashion Week and being photographed on the red carpet?

As a child, you were used to being told what to do and how to behave, so it seemed like routine when your handler changed over from your parents to your manager. You understood that doing what you were told kept you on schedule and in work. They say that hindsight is twenty-twenty. An understatement if you’d ever heard one.

The paperwork and awaiting decisions could feel overwhelming at times, but at least you were the one making the decisions. You had a say and you weren’t treated as a money machine. Yes, as someone with employees, you had people depending on you for their paychecks, but the relationship was different. You weren’t being exploited. Rather, you were looked to for guidance. You might not have been the head honcho of the hotel business, but someday you would be. That was a legacy you truly held on to.

“A package arrived for you, Miss.”

You didn’t even bother to look up as you waved uninterested to your assistant. “Just set it down on the table.” Right now, these budget papers needed your attention. “I’ll open it later.” You hadn’t been expecting anything, but that wasn’t unusual. Partners or sponsors occasionally sent new products to test out or as a gift to keep the mutually beneficial relationship going strong.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jun put the small cardboard box on the coffee table set up on the other side of your office before bowing and leaving.

For another hour, you poured over the suggestions from the different departments of what they believed they needed to fully function for the upcoming fiscal year. All the numbers were beginning to blur together as a headache was starting to pound against your skull. You needed a break.

Yes, this was a much better career for you. Although those looking from the outside might see it as a step down, they didn’t fully understand. It was easy to look at the smiling face on a promotional campaign and stop. They didn’t dig deeper. The need to appear perfect but never reaching that level, the lack of decisions placed in your hands, the lack of privacy. What extremes had you gone to avoid paparazzi or overly adoring fans? How many dates had you gone on that were ruined either because the guy didn’t want all the attention or because that was exactly what they wanted?

Standing up, you stretched your legs by pacing around your office. Thankfully it was spacious enough to give you a good amount of room, letting you make large laps to get the blood flowing again. It was an office fit for a director with its tall windows on the top floor. Your father’s office was a few doors down the hall and even larger than yours. Maybe you should pace in there instead, to get more steps in. With the sun going down on the horizon, the chances of your father still being around were slim. Unlike you, he tried to keep to normal working hours. It made your mother feel more at ease about his health. A troubling concern that bothered you, too. When you were child, your father was Superman, invincible. As an adult, you were no longer shielded from the truths of an ailing body.

Before you could decide to check if his office was indeed empty, the package caught your eye.  The return address was a P.O. Box, absent of a name of whom it belonged to. Strange. It was also addressed directly to you, no formal title preceding it, as was often the case with promotional packages. You didn’t get too many delivers in this manner that weren’t of the router or legal envelopes variety. Grabbing a pair of scissors from your desk, you cut the tape and pulled back the cardboard flaps.

And then you screamed.

The box fell from your hands as Jun came running back into the room.

“Ma’am, what happened?” he asked frantically. With a trembling hand, you pointed to the package that was now spilling out all over your carpet.

Old magazine clippings covered in red smears - smears that were obviously made of blood.

“Don’t touch anything,” Jun swallowed thickly as he backed you away. “I’ll call the police and have security review who dropped it off.”

You nodded, unable to voice anything, too paralyzed by fear. Because this was no ordinary threat. This had nothing to do with who you were today. You knew those clippings, those old articles that you hadn’t thought about in years. That part of your life had long been behind you. The only remnant of it was the rare “Where are they now?” tabloid entry that no one read. So why had someone done this? Why now?

**

No.

No, no, no, no, and no.

There was no way you were going to agree to this. Your life was exactly the way you wanted it to be and you didn’t need some over muscled buffoon messing it all up. In your opinion, you should let the detectives do their work while you let this creep know that you weren’t scared of him. The initial shock of the first package had worn off and now you were just pissed.

“I don’t think that this is necessary. At all.” You were determined to with this argument as you sat across from your father in his living room. His face was scrunched with worry and dark circles pulled at the skin underneath his eyes. When he called you over to your childhood home, you thought he was simply going to give you an update on the police investigation into your stalker.

Hah.

Instead he had a bomb to drop on you – no pun intended. His idea of keeping you safe with this stalker on the loose. If it had just been the one package, you would have had a stronger argument. But the phone calls started two days later. No words were spoken, just heavy breathing. You couldn’t even get a creative psychopath.

“I will not lose my only child,” your father insisted.

“I can take care of myself,” you said. “Increase security in the main lobby and start screening all packages that come in. We don’t need to go to extremes.”

Your father was much better at presenting counter arguments. “What if the stalker manages to get through the front lobby? Or if the mail comes to your home next time? Or if he approaches you at a restaurant or the park? Distanced security will only go so far. I need someone who will be there in a split second if something were to happen.”

“Father, please, do not stick some stuck up, full-of-himself babysitter on me at all times.”

“A babysitter is meant for children, and from what I see, you’re a grown woman in trouble.”

In the doorway leading from the main hallway to the living room stood three very different, yet very imposing men in tailored black suits. The one who spoke stepped forward. His black hair was parted on the side, curling slightly over his forehead. Two little dots sat below his left eyebrow. He possessed a fierce sharp face that had the ability to look… bored, almost. The others that flanked either side were complete opposites: one short with light brown hair and a stocky build, the other tall with platinum hair and a lankier frame. Not exactly the run-of-the-mill bodyguards. Were these the ones that would be stuck with you all day and night?

“Ah, Jaebeom,” your father greeted as he stood from his spot on the couch opposite of where you stood. Walking around, he shook this Jaebeom’s hand enthusiastically. “Thank you for coming. Your agency came highly recommended.”

Jaebeom placed his hand against his chest, bowing gratefully. “We’ve worked hard to gain our reputation.”

“And will one of you three be guarding my daughter?”

“Only in the areas where extra protection is needed,” Jaebeom said. “Given the gravity of the situation, I’m putting my best man on this.”

Crossing your arms, you felt like the child who got caught with their Halloween candy under the bed and now the parents were talking about what punishment to deal out. “And who would that be?”

“Park Jinyoung,” the silver haired one smirked.

“He’s finishing up another assignment at the moment, so he couldn’t be with us today,” Jaebeom said.

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of assignment?”

“A short term one.”

A bit cryptic, but you were smart enough to know when a battle wasn’t worth fighting. Whatever this Park Jinyoung was doing before he would stick to you like flypaper, it was none of your business. A small little prayer that his assignment would take longer than expected and wouldn’t show up at all was cited in your head. Pointless. Surely, Jaebeom would just insert another guard until “his best man” was available again. Your father would insist.

“I thank you for your attentiveness on this.” For the first time in weeks, the tension in your father’s shoulders released. Guilt twisted at your stomach. Though you were sure that, with a little bit of time, this stalker would get bored and move on, your father’s worry was unsurmountable.

You didn’t want to deal with this. Turning away from the others, your arms moved from a defensive position to one where you were holding yourself together. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not now that you were the boss, now that you were behind the scenes, away from the red-carpet premieres and flashing bulbs that burned your retinas. You had a grip on all aspects of your life. Your apartment was decorated the way you wanted, not your mother. You made final decisions for the company. That package was snatching the control of your life from your hands.

“Hey.”

You turned your head to glance over your shoulder. The stockier bodyguard had approached you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. A sympathetic expression softened the sharper features of his face. He could be intimidating, with his broad shoulders yet lithe build shown off by the tailored suit.

“Jinyoung really is the best among us,” he said. “He’ll make sure you’re safe and I wouldn’t be surprised if he caught this guy in the meantime.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you sighed as you turned around fully, “but it's not the stalker that I’m worried about. I like my privacy, my life the way it is now. With a guard following me around all day, word about this will get out. And then the paparazzi will be back on me like clumps of sticky rice.” They wouldn’t be able to resist a story like this.

“I know it sucks, but it won’t be forever.”

You nodded, but more in acknowledgment that he had spoken rather than in agreement. It was easy enough to say that something would end; everything does. But what you wanted was to be able to physically be close to the end. You wanted to see it, reach out and graze it with the tips of your fingers. But there was no light in this tunnel. If you ever met this stalker, you would make sure that at least one of you ended up in the hospital.

“Jackson,” Jaebeom called out, catching both of your attentions. The leader motioned out the door with his head. “Let’s go.” He turned back to your father. “We’ll make another round at the office, get to know your security there, and create a rotation that will cover the area sufficiently.”

“I thank you again for all your work. I look forward to meeting this Park Jinyoung.”

“He should arrive by tomorrow evening. If something holds him up, we’ll contact you.”

Your father shook his hand before the three bodyguards left. When it was just the two of you again, you leaned up against the wall and let out a rather unseemly raspberry between your lips.

“Please, don’t be like that,” your father begged. “I’m only trying to do what I think is best to protect you.”

“I know, I know,” you said, exasperated. “I just… I feel like I’m sixteen again.”

Your father chuckled. “If I remember correctly, you enjoyed your bodyguards back then.”

“Because I was stupid and it made me feel important.” Very important, indeed. Not just anyone had big burly men surrounding them as they walked through airport to get to the blacked-out van waiting for you in the car park. They were the ones who kept the photographers and overzealous fans at bay. When you were young, you looked at those pictures where you were wearing sunglasses to block out the flashing and thought you were one of the coolest people in the world. Now the very thought of that situation made you feel pity – whether it was old pictures of yourself or newer one of the latest generation of young stars. There was nothing to envy. Not when all you wanted was to be able to walk through the airport and make it to your flight without worrying around being crowded or pulled at or hear the constant screaming. And you weren’t even a heartthrob popstar. You’d dated a few, though.

“Well, things are different now,” you father said in an attempt to be comforting. “and I spoke to others who had used Lim Jaebeom’s services and they said it was like his men were hardly even there.”

It took a lot of self-control to bite down and keep your tongue from spouting off. Because it didn’t matter how invisible the guards felt to the others – they were probably used to treating employees like they didn’t exist. You were not going to be able to do that. You were going to be too hyperaware of the extra presence in your life. Like a shadow creeping behind you down a dark alley. Always there in the corner of your eye, lurking and waiting.

“I should probably be getting home,” you said.

Your father nodded in agreement. “I’ll have Seonjo see you there.”

“Father, I-” One quick, stern look cut off any argument. “Yes, sir.” So much for being a grown woman.

Seonjo was one of your father’s own security. He was loyal to the family, your father most of all. He once sent a disgruntled employee to the hospital for trying to harm your father. He never directly admitted to having a license to kill, but you wouldn’t be surprised. As a child, he’d intimidated you. One time, he caught you trying to sneak out through the back kitchen door past midnight so you could go hang out with your friends. You thought that being thrown over someone’s shoulder was a stunt you would only have to perform in front of a camera. Needless to say, you didn’t try that again.

Out front, Seonjo was already leaning up against your car, waiting for you to unlock the doors. You didn’t fight him on who got to drive. You simply pulled your keys out and tossed them to the bodyguard before jumping into the passenger’s seat.

“How do you plan on get home?” you asked once you were down the road a ways.

“Rideshares are very common, you know,” Seonjo snorted. He’d become more playful as you’d gotten older. Your only guess as to why was perhaps he wasn’t very comfortable around children. Those little creatures were even more unpredictable than adults and from you had observed, Seonjo liked things… quiet. And orderly. Kids tended to be neither.

“But wouldn’t that break protocol?”

“They won’t enter the property,” Seonjo countered. “I’ll have them drop me off a little down the road and walk the rest of the way.”

“Always the man with a plan,” you laughed.

“That’s the job,” he replied with a smile.

Safe and sound in your own apartment, Seonjo bid you a goodnight and headed down the elevator to meet his rideshare driver down on the sidewalk. You were a bit surprised that he wasn’t staying the night to watch over you, but you were thankful. One last night of freedom in your own home before the lion came a’ prowling. It didn’t feel fair at all. But it just goes to show that the past never stays asleep for long.

**

“So, wait, let me get this straight: you… are… complaining at the fact that a man has to protect you and keep you safe from your crazy, maniacal stalker?”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend, knowing that you should have been prepared for this.

Dan had been by your side since the two of you costarred in a short-lived comedy series about high school students. Not that either of you were that sad about its less-than-a-season lifespan. Right after that, you snagged the lead in the show was the defining role of your acting life and Dan was able to move on to create his own fashion line. You couldn’t say what your other costars were up to now, but Dan was always – and would always be – a constant in your life.

“Its not that serious,” you said again as you leaned forward on your desk. Dan had come to your office to have dinner with you since he was sure that it wasn’t safe for you to eat out in the open in a crowded restaurant. You know, where witnesses were present.

“See, you keep saying that, but I’m not sure if you’re aware of the actual definition of serious.” Dan folded his hands and pulled up on his knee as he crossed his legs. “The phone callss might be passable, but the package of pig’s blood with old magazine articles about you isn’t as easily overlooked.”

“I get it. I really do. But I like how my life is right now. I don’t want to think about that pompous brat of an actress I was.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dan held up a finger, “you weren’t that bad because I never would have been your friend if you were.” Now a second finger. “Second of all, you can’t control other people, honey. I don’t know why they’re suddenly fixated on you after nearly eight years, but they are. And you have to deal with it.” A cheeky look came across his face as he lifted his glass of wine to his lips. “Besides, you never know. Maybe this Park guy will be handsome and the two of you will fall in love while he protects you from the axe wielding maniac.”

You gave him your best deadpan look. “You’ve watched The Bodyguard too many times.”

“Whitney Houston is an icon. She created one of the greatest ballads of all time with that movie.”

“Actually, the song was originally written by Dolly Parton.”

Dan jumped at the third voice, nearly spilling his wine. Thankfully, the liquid didn’t leave the glass, and he was wearing black pants anyway.

Standing in your open doorway was a man in a sharp black suit with a simple cut. It was the causal kind, like your father never wore. Hair almost as dark as the suit was parted on the side and slicked back away from his forehead. The smallest of smirks rested in the corner of his mouth, giving a little bit of light to his otherwise serious expression.

Surprised that he finally showed up after waiting all day, you stood to your feet and walked over to your new bodyguard. You held out your hand for him to take. It was a strong grip, but not so much so that it was intimidating. He kept eye contact with you, but in a way that was creepy or uncomfortable. “Hi. I’m (y/n).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). My name is Park Jinyoung. Jaebeom already informed you that I was assigned to watch over you until this stalker is caught.”

“Yes, he did.”

Dan hopped up from his seat and came to stand beside you. With his own hand stretched out, he took the liberty of introducing himself. “Hi, I’m Daniel Larken. The fashion designer? You might have heard of me.”

Jinyoung shook his hand, obviously amused by the forwardness. “The one with the reflective suits?”

“It’s actually a shimmer sewn in with the thread,” Dan corrected.

“Ah,” Jinyoung nodded. “Good work.”

“Thank you.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flickered back and forth between you and Dan, smirking. He was enjoying this. Well, at least one of you would be. And now that Dan was fully onboard, there was no one left to stand by you. It was official. You were stuck with this Park Jinyoung. As long as he agreed to stay out of your way and not completely upend your life, then this shouldn’t be too bad of an arrangement.

With a brewing smile of his own, Dan turned to you. “I want one.”

You crossed your arms sternly. “No.”

#got7 #got7 bodyguard au #got7 bodyguard!au #jinyoung x reader #park jinyoung #got7 series #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfiction #lim jaebeom #jackson wang #kim yugyeom #bambam #choi youngjae #mark tuan #Bottom of the Glass

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Poison: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"What is food to one is to others bitter poison." - Lucretius

Cases involving children are never your strong suit. The last one with Billie Copeland was just so hard, you’re not sure if you can be involved in another one--that is until you learned what this case is really all about. Yes, there is a child involved, but the bigger picture has a much larger scale than children.

You have to remind yourself that you need to focus on the case and not on Spencer. It shouldn’t even be a hard thing to do, but something happened between you two when you took him to the bookstore right next to your apartment. After checking out a couple of books, and after Spencer had read virtually all of them, you decided it was kind of late and that you needed to get home. The store was closing very soon anyway, so Spencer opted to walk you home.

When you got to your door, he decided to give you a kiss on your cheek, but you moved your head at the last minute. He accidentally got the corner of your mouth, and that messed up his whole thing. Based on his reaction to your mouths almost touching, you know he can’t be that interested in you. If he were, then he would have just kissed you right there and then. Instead, he stuttered a goodbye and left.

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. Does he like you? If so, then why won’t he just kiss you? If he doesn’t, then why does he agree to go on these dates with you. Whenever you two go out, you clearly state that this is a date, and he doesn’t say anything that dismisses that idea. Sometimes, you just wish you knew what was going on inside that big brain of his so you can dejumble it and tell him what the fuck is going on. You’d do it now, but you have a case that needs your full attention.

Apparently, a man and his son were driving down the road one night when the father pulled to the side of the road and got out. He walked into the woods, the son followed after him, and the father beat him almost to death. The son is in the hospital undergoing critical care while the father is in the psych ward. You’re not sure how it happened or why, but you know that it did. Hotch and Gideon got hold of the interrogation video sent over by the New Jersey Police Department.

Detective Hanover is the person who is going to be in charge and is also the person who you will be working with the entire time you’re in Jersey.

“State trooper took this before the paramedics showed up,” the detective says and shows Jack Fisher, the father of Eric Fisher, a picture of his unconscious body. “He's unconscious and has four broken bones. He's gonna be in the hospital for a month.”

“I didn't hurt my son,” Jack sighs.

“Do you remember removing the tire iron from the trunk?”

What, he used a tire iron? You gasp softly and put your hand to your mouth as you continue to watch.

“No! No!”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“I picked Eric up from school on Friday, for the weekend. Who would do this?” he cries softly.

Hotch ends the video there and addresses the entire briefing room.

“This happened two days ago in Beechwood, New Jersey. Mr. Fisher had ingested LSD one afternoon and didn't come down until eighteen hours later.”

“The hospital reported six other patients who ingested LSD in the last twenty-four hours. The hospital called the CDC, then the CDC called us,” JJ finishes.

“So, a bunch of people got spiked. What makes it a BAU case?” Derek wonders.

“They each received ten to twenty times the normal dose.”

“That’s enough to kill a small child,” Spencer informs.

“Or cause a grown man to try and kill him with a tire iron apparently,” you sigh.

“Of the seven victims, there was one death and one coma. This is from the hospital's security footage the same night Fisher lost it,” JJ explains and uses the remote to put a different video on the screen.

It’s of the hospital that is in complete chaos. People are shouting, pushing, yelling, and apparently, having seizures. One man is on a stretcher, and he’s clearly on something. The doctors around him try to push past the madness of people to get him to a room while the nurses have their hands full of scared and angry patients. This wasn’t a spike or an overdose…

“These people didn’t get spiked. They were poisoned,” you reveal.

“Of the seven victims, Gail Norman was the only death. She was seventy-eight. She ran out into the middle of the road, and she was hit by a car. She was DOA,” JJ reveals on the plane ride over to New Jersey.

You’re sitting next to Spencer in one of the seats that are super cramped so that they can fit four of them in on either side of a small table. You’re sitting by the window, so essentially, Spencer is blocking you in. He’s not a big person, but because you have romantic feelings for him, it feels like a fucking trap.

“The other potentially fatal case is nine-year-old Brittany Canon. She fell out of a treehouse and fractured her skull. She's in a coma, but the doctors don't know if she's going to come out of it,” Hotch says.

“How do you wanna handle the press?” Gideon asks the liaison.

“We still don't know how these people even got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics. It'll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet.”

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Derek wonders.

“None of them remembers anything about the day it happened,” you say and gesture, but your hand brushes up against Spencer’s leg.

You blush and mutter an apology, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He looks at you and blushes as well, but he is better at hiding it than you are.

“These people were so messed up; it's made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victim's steps.”

“So, we need to go on precedent. We know there are four types of poisoners who target multiple victims,” Gideon starts.

“There's the true believer--the political terrorist/religious cult. There's the extortionist--the product tamperer that holds the business hostage in exchange for money. The prankster--it’s usually a younger offender who doesn't mean any harm, and it's basically just a big practical joke to them. Then we have the avenger--someone with a personal vendetta who chooses poison as their weapon,” you explain the different types of offenders.

“We need to find out as quickly as possible which type he is. Because with the exception of the prankster, all these types commonly test their poison on a small scale before appearing at a larger attack.”

“Then, let's hope this one was just a prank,” Derek scoffs.

"I suggest we split up the victims and see if there's a pattern to the victimology,” Gideon suggests.

“Most of them are still in the hospital. I'll call local PD to meet us there,” Hotch confirms.

“I'll check the lab reports. Maybe there's a clue to the unsub's motive in the specific nature of the poison he used,” Spencer calls dibs.

“I can't imagine anybody could want this to happen.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll head to the hospital with you. The kid may not be able to tell the doctor anything, but I certainly can. I’ll be able to see what really happened if his mother allows it.”

“Good,” Gideon nods once. “We need all the answers we can get.”

The hospital is buzzing with panic, fear, sadness, and grief. Many people are dying in this hospital, and to someone like you, you’re not sure you can be here for much longer. Hotch, Gideon, and the rest of the team don’t really understand how this all affects you. Normal people like the ones on your team see this hospital for what it is. They see people grieving and people crying, but they allow themselves to be separated from their emotions. They can walk into a loud crowd and tune out all the conversations and emotions without even thinking about it.

Not you. You’re completely different.

You walk into a crowd, and you’re overwhelmed by not only the physical sensation of people all around you, but your mind is also crowded. Your mind goes into overdrive as it inspects each person to make sure they are not a threat. To make sure that they are who they say they are. A normal person can see a kid walking down the street and not know they are kidnapped while you are able to determine that.

You walk into this hospital, and every single emotion of every single nurse, doctor, patient, and family member immediately go to your shoulders. Someone can be dying on the very top floor, and you’d feel how sad their family members are as they watch their beloved ones slip away. There could be someone in the next room receiving bad news, and it’ll be like you’re receiving the same news. It’s not fun living with your abilities, and you’ve caught yourself wishing it would all just end. However, you think about everyone you’ve saved, and it somehow all makes it okay.

“Detective Hanover, Beechwood PD,” the detective that was on the surveillance tape introduces himself to you, Gideon, and Hotch.

“Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Gideon and Agent Y/L/N.”

“Thanks for coming down on such short notice. The doctor said he may have permanent brain damage. I've never seen anything like this,” he sighs and looks at Eric, the little boy who was beaten by his own father.

“Well, let's hope we can help him.”

“Have you had a chance to review the victim's files?”

“We're especially interested in talking to the boy's father,” Gideon says.

“We'd like to get a sense of why he turned violent while the lab analyzes the specific nature of the LSD he was dosed with. we'd like to get our own sense: was it the drug itself or was there something else going on? Hopefully, that can give us a little bit of a window into the motive of the offender,” Hotch explains.

“He's in the psych ward.”

“Well, we'll keep it short,” Gideon replies.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet up with you two. I’m going to talk to the mother,” you offer, and Hotch just nods.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@averyhotchner @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @fan-girl-97 @paulaern @inkstainedwritergirl @estrela-rogers @abitchforjay @kwbaby24 @redsalv20 @joonie-centric @spencerreid-mgg @sixpencespencee @boygenius-reid @reidemandweep @prophecyflame @happynekochan1​

#poison #series rewrite #criminal minds series rewrite #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm fanfiction #season 1 episode 13 #s1e13

[harringtonheartache]

Daybreak | Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part fifteen of this fic. Slow it down, what is going on here? Hopper needs to know.

Word Count: 2,300 +

Warning(s): Mild cussing

A/N: I’m not entirely fond of how I ended this chapter but I need to decide what direction I want the story to go in... Anyway, I hope you can forgive me and enjoy reading! 

Stacked neatly, Mike’s VHS tapes sat on Steve’s coffee table centered in front of the living room couch. Next to them were Steve’s socked feet, also stacked on top of one another as his legs stretched out before him. The credits for Indiana Jones rolled down the TV screen, and Nine’s eyes trailed across the words. Steve stood from his spot next to her on the couch, and gave her a puzzled look when she shot him one first. “You’re not-” she started, but her eyes traveled back to the screen. “Are you actually reading the credits?” Steve said, amusement in his voice. She looked back to him, giving up on the fast-scrolling text. “I didn’t know what they were,” she told him.

A smile dragged slowly across Steve’s face as he progressed into light laughter. “You don’t have to read those, they aren’t part of the story,” he explained. Nine cracked a smile as well, a breath of air leaving her mouth between her curled lips as if she were relieved. “Oh”. 

Steve crouched by the TV now, removing the tape from the player and finding its respective cover to put it away in. “So, what did you think?” he asked, turning his head to Nine as the tape snapped into place in the plastic case. 

“I liked it, it was nice to focus on other people’s problems for a while,” she said, and he laughed again. “Agreed”. 

About to engage in further discussion of the plot, Nine sat up and parted her lips to speak. Beating her to action, a chime rang through the house as someone outside pressed the doorbell. A recurring situation that had grown less scary and more irritating. Steve sighed as he stood up and looked to Nine with an apologetic expression, as if it were him outside ringing to be let in. 

It was Hopper. Chief of police returned to the Harrington residence as he said he would. The site of an authority at his door was inherently startling to Steve, but he let him inside as he thought over how long ago it was Hopper had been in his home, eyeing the empty space and scolding him to put an ice pack on his face. He realized now that he never did. 

-

Nine sat in the same seat she had occupied before, but this time her posture was stiff. She had first crossed her legs, one on top of the other, but moved to undo this after a minute. Her fingertips squeezed at folds in the fabric of her borrowed sweatpants, and she wished her injured arm hadn’t left her unable to borrow a shirt with long sleeves as well. So she substituted one jittery act for another. Beside Nine to her right, Steve was close; turned towards her slightly and hunched over just a little as if he were going to whisper to her a secret. Maybe he’d give her all the answers to the questions she would be asked. 

Hopper sat across from the two like a marriage counselor for a young couple. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees as if to get down to Nine’s level, to seem less dominating. She still wanted to back up, despite the intention.

“I don’t want to unsettle you, I just have to understand”. He started off with a half-apology after reading her body language, but continued on even when his sentence didn’t seem to make a dent in her demeanor. “I need to know more about where you came from — the lab”. He said the last two words as if he were reading them from a list, although looked straight ahead, trying to steal a moment of eye contact, even if it were accidental on Nine’s part. She only looked down, counting how long she could stand to hold her fingernail sharply against the pad of her thumb before ceasing the pain and taking the pressure away to watch the indent she had made in her skin fade. 

“Do we really have to do this?” Steve interrupted an interview that had hardly begun, opposing it with one question. 

“Yes, Steve, we do”. Hopper’s tone was more harsh when speaking to the boy. “Be grateful that I didn’t make her come into the station. I am going beyond off-road in terms of formalities,” he scolded. “I have a lot on my plate here, I just need to ask a few questions for now and the rest can be sorted out later”. 

Nine looked up, but only to catch a look at Steve’s face. He was sighing through his nose, biting into his lower lip and looking off to his right as he halfway rolled his eyes. His head swiveled back to face forward, then he peaked at Nine with large eyes. 

“How did you first end up there?” Hopper asked. Nine squinted, almost offended he hadn’t caught up on the basics of the story. She looked up to study the sheriff’s face for a moment, seeing only genuine curiosity on his features. She looked him straight in the eye as she responded. “I was born there”. Her tone was blunt, angry words leaving her mouth like weaponry. 

Hopper’s brows twitched, unexpectant of her harsh delivery or the answer itself. He sat back against his chair and opened his mouth to retaliate with another question. “Are there others, then?” he said simply, prettying his tone as if to ask nicely. 

“Other what? Kids?” Nine returned with another question, although she had understood his without the need for specification. He only nodded. “Yeah, there are others. I’m only number nine,” she said. 

Steve’s eyes were stuck on her as she spoke, a look of unease on his face. He appeared more concerned than Nine did at this point, but her twitching fingers reminded her of her anxiety. Another crescent-shaped impression faded slowly from her skin. 

Hopper’s next question was thick. “What did they do to you?”

Now Nine sighed, eyes traveling back to her lap for a moment as if recharging. “A lot. Ran tests — different things that evaluate and challenge our abilities.” She knew her response would set her up for a plethora of further questions, trying to keep it short in an attempt to fend off this inevitability. The look of confusion wasn’t wavering from Hopper’s expression, and she watched him gear up to ask another question. 

“Abilities? What does that mean?” 

Next to Nine, Steve shifted, his own two hands wringing together as if he had been asked the question himself. She glanced at him, then continued. “Specifically? Telekinesis, mostly.” She left out details of her other capabilities, leaving Hopper with a summary she’d hope would satisfy him. 

“Okay, come on… what?” He wasn’t satisfied. 

Nine’s voice was smaller this time, as if to make up for the increased tension in Hopper’s delivery. “I’d show you-” Steve cut her off, finally getting another word in. “No! You passed out at the lab because you over-exerted yourself. You’re still recovering, you can’t use your powers”. He didn’t even look at Hopper, acting as if he weren’t there at all. He searched Nine’s eyes, his own wavering back and forth in his attempt to read her expression. Hopper spoke again and the two broke their intense eye-contact. “Let’s just - calm down”. He sensed that he was losing both of those in front of him to the swelling unease of the room. Sitting up straight in his chair, he exhaled in demonstration. 

He dropped the subject, mentally scribbling the words telekinetic abilities with a question mark after them in his mind. “How did you escape? It’s a pretty secure building from my personal experience,” Hopper huffed, leaning back as cigarette-scented air left his mouth. 

Nine looked up this time, searching for an answer on the ceiling between cracks in the plaster. The sound of the Hawkins' Lab security alarm played in her head, uninvited and accompanied by vibrant visuals of running underneath it’s red light. “Something went wrong that night,” she started. “I-” she altered her speech, abandoning words that painted her responsible. “They reached the upside-down. Something from inside escaped, and I took advantage of the distraction.” 

She watched Hopper’s face as he processed her summary of events, then stole a glance at Steve like a child who was desperate for their parents to believe a poor excuse. Hopper moved along — the specifics of her getaway weren’t important to him right now anyway. What stood taller than Nine’s breakout was the something that escaped from somewhere he didn’t know of. “The upside down? What is that? That a place?” His tone was becoming more ragged, the unconventionality of this interview getting to him. He was used to routine, if anything boring work: a group of teenagers caught stealing candy from Mrs. Alexander’s corner store, a stale argument turned violent between two men at a local bar - things expected from a small town. This past week had introduced Hop to first-ever’s. First ever missing child case. First ever superhuman lab experiment escapee. 

Steve opened his mouth, shut it immediately. This felt invasive. This had been a secret between three, and this fourth member of the club brought doubtful glares and true consequence. He hadn’t known what he had expected, (Nine to spend the rest of her life hiding in his bedroom as his personal little secret?) but with the town’s sheriff sitting across from him in his own home, his reality felt menacing. Something about it seemed punishable. 

“There is a gate, like a passageway. It leads to the upside down, this place that- that’s like another dimension beyond our own,” Nine spoke. “A flip-side.” Hopper looked defeated, and felt his pants pocket to make sure his pack of cigarettes still laid underneath the fabric. It did, but he didn’t take them out. 

“There isn’t much else. We filled you in. Can we be done?” Steve phrased his question as if he were a kid wishing to be excused from dinner with his parents. A bit of expectancy in his voice; confidence he hoped would end the ‘check-in’ turned interview sooner. 

“No, no, no,” Hopper spoke aggressively again as he shifted back to conversation with Steve. “You did not fill me in on anything, she did.” Credit where credit was due. “There is still a lot I don’t know about Hawkins’ lab, and if I have more questions,” he spoke with passive-aggressive simplicity, like letters typed out in bold, “I will ask them”. 

Nine didn’t like his deserving attitude; it was flashy and ugly, although fitting of the uniform. “I’m done,” she spoke with Steve’s confidence. 

Hopper looked back to her, unhidden shock on his face as he had not considered his head-butting with Steve a true threat until now. He looked over the bruised girl in front of him, and sighed into his hands as he reevaluated the situation. Bringing his head back up, he spoke with a more controlled tone. “Okay, look. I am sorry.” His mustache twitched as he tried to find the words. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice, I'm just… confused.”

Silence draped over the room as Nine contemplated forgiveness. “I just have a few more questions, please.” Hopper added. As much as he wanted to butt in, Steve stayed quiet and let Nine decide if she would hear the sheriff’s finalizing questions. She looked at the man with an unchanging look on her face, one close to anger. She only nodded though, signaling him to continue despite her facial expression that had already convinced him the answer was ‘no’. He raised his eyebrows, almost in awe at her permission, then mentally stumbled over what it was he had intended to ask next. “Something escaped. What the hell was it?” 

Now it was Steve with violent visuals flashing in his mind. His ankle stung in remembrance. 

“I don’t know, some kind of creature. It’s big. It stands on two legs and towers over any human it encounters. It has no face, just a huge mouth with sharp teeth. Claws, too,” Nine said. Next to her, Steve wondered how she had such a clean mental picture of the ‘creature’. His own was scribbled and dark, an outcome of that night in the woods. 

“Okay…” Hopper was at a loss, flipping through an index of his personal experiences in his mind to try and find something to compare this to. “A creature with no face...” Hopper breathed out. Nine only nodded in response, and he looked to Steve as if he could verify the information. The teenager nodded his head slowly, his lips pressed together. An ‘I know, but it’s true,’ look. 

Hopper turned a page over in his mental notebook. “Uhm,” he started, his question lodging in his throat. He looked at the floor as he tried to loosen it. “One more thing,” he started. “I was told that you may have information on Will Byers. Is this true?” He regained his confidence, finding the natural groove of his speaking voice. Steve felt a surge of dread, air filling space deep in his chest as he inhaled. He wished that information hadn’t been used to barter for Hopper’s help. The visual of Nine sitting in a room painted a stark white — a setting his mind borrowed from Hawkins’ Lab, he realized — being pricked at and questioned, tested and retested under the idea that she would be useful to the investigation. Authorities from Hawkins’ own police station standing over her as she was returned to a place similar to the one she had escaped; a room filled with people who wanted to use her for her powers. 

Nine answered truthfully, and Steve chewed at his tongue. Hopper stayed silent for a moment, as if he weren’t expecting something he was already told to be true when he repeated it himself. “What do you know?” 

Her voice was softest when answering this question above all asked previously, words spoken slowly like they’d run off it delivered too eagerly. “I know where he is”.

---

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#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper #steve harrington series #st #ST fic #ST fanfic

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 10

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1856

Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​ , and @cracksinthewalls​ for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do. 

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”

“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says. 

“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”

She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee. 

“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”

“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”

“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”

 “Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?” 

She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.

“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”

Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.

“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.” 

Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.

“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.

“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”

“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers. 

“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”

“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”

“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.

The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.

“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.” 

She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.

“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”

Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”

Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”

Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.

“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.

“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.

“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.

“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy. 

“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”

She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”

“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile. 

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”

...

In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.

“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long. 

For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.

Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”

And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.

…

The end.

#SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #original character #original female character #teen dean #teen sam #teen winchesters #high school romance #high school sweethearts #angst #Drama #all done

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Title: The Survivors

Gif credit @multi-goodness

Requested on wattpad

Taglist: @nocturnalherb16 @jesseswartzwelder

Warning: attempted suicide, abandonment all involving children.

"Trudy, I'm expecting a file. When it arrives can you let me know"? Hank asked as he put in his password on the key pad.

"Yeah". She said not looking up from her desk.

Hank went on his way and up the stairs. His team were at their desk working on the case at hand. Hank passed Jay's desk and something caught Jay's eye.

"Sarge"? Hank turned to Jay and Jay pointed behind Hank. Hank swifty turned and there stood behind him a four foot seven inch little girl with pigtails. She was in overalls, dirty ones. Her face was covered in dirt.

"Can I help you"? Hank bent down to the child's level.

The little girl didnt say anything and went into Hanks office. Like she was meant to be there.

"Get social services here and find her parents. Check the cameras. There has to be something". Hank told Jay as he went into his office.

"What's your name"? He asked as he took off his jacket. She was spinning in his office chair.

"Penelope". She said with a smile.

"Penelope. That's a pretty name. Where's your parents, Penelope"? Hank sat down on the couch, giving her space and letting her do what she wanted.

"They left".

"Left? Where did they go"?

Penelope shrugged her shoulders as she scrunched up her nose.

"Can I get you something? A soda"?

Her eyes light up. "Really"?

"Any kind you want".

"Pepsi. No. Cola. No. Pepsi". Penelope tried to make up her mind.

"Sarge"? Jay knocked on the door.

"I'll be right back, Penelope". Hank got up from the couch and went outside of the office. Penelope followed him. Standing right beside him with a grin.

Hank cracked a smile with a chuckle. "I thought I told you I would be right back"?

"You did. But I'm thirsty".

"Okay, will you go with Erin and she'll get you a soda and whatever else you want"?

Penelope thought about it for a second and nodded in agreement. "Anything"?

"Just dont go to nuts with the sugar". Hank warned Erin as Penelope held her hand.

"So why did a little girl wander into my station without her parents"?

"I got a plate number  and the car is registered to a Rick Ford. He's a dead beat junkie. He's married to a Scarlett Danielson another junkie. I've got their car on look out. So they shouldnt get to far".

"What else did the security tapes show us"?

"They just stopped the car and let her out. Probably on they're way to get another fix".

"Probably. Where are we will social services"?

"They said it'll be awhile. They're backed up".

Hank sighed, running his hand down his face. "Alright. I'll see what else I can get out of her. Maybe it'll help".

Hank went back to his office as Penelope and Erin came up the stairs. She was happy and giggling.

"Hi". Penelope came in quietly, with her hands behind her back and a smile.

"Hi. What do you have there"?

"Erin said this was your favorite". She put a can of soda on the table with a candy bar for Hank.

"It is. Thank you. That's very sweet of you, Penelope".

"You're welcome". She hummed as she sat down on the chair in front of Hank.

"How old are you"?

"Eight. How old are you"?

Penelope asked making Hank chuckle under his breath. "Old enough".

"Do you know where you live"?

"At my house". She popped the top of her soda and started to slurp.

"Do you know the address"?

"It's in front of a play ground. I use to play there all the time. But now I can't". Penelope sounds sad.

"Why cant you"?

"Bad people are after my daddy. So I can't go outside anymore".

"Okay". Hank got up from his chair and poked his head out the door.

"Places that have a playground in front of houses or apartments". He told Jay.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters"?

"No".

"Voight, I got a address but they could have easily moved". Antonio said from his desk.

"Alright we'll go check it out". Hank grabbed his jacket. Penelope got up from the couch.

"You're going to go with Erin, shes going to show you the station. Take some pictures and make finger prints. Okay"? Hank kneeled down in front of Penelope.

"Okay. You're coming back right"?

"Yeah, I'm coming back. I promise". He smiled with a broken heart for this little girl.

"Okay". She waved goodbye and giggled with Erin.

Hank and his team were on their way to the address.

They were crossing over the Franklin street bridge when Alvin stopped the car wheels squealing.

"We got a jumper". He rushed outside of the car. Hank called it in and got out.

They walked closer to the bridge, a young man was standing on top of the railing.

"Hey". Hank said softly.

"Stay back. Stay back or I'll jump". The young man was panicked and he was scared.

"You don't want to do this. Come down and we can talk".

"No, theres talking. I have to do this. I cant live like this anymore".

"What cant you live with"?

"Just go away".

"No. Tell me why you're on there about to jump"? Hank inched his way towards the railing.

"I hate my life. School is hell. Everyone hates me. I can't go a day without getting picked on or beat up. I get shoved into the lockers. I've had four broken arms and no one has done anything to stop it. This is the only way". The young man was about to jump.

"Woah. Dont do it. If you do this then you let the bullies win. You wont be able to show them that you're better than them. That you weren't torn down by them. They meant nothing. You are young, you have so much to see in this world. Theres so much life in you that you will never be able to explore it. Trust me. There's greatness out there and you will want to see it".

The young man started to sob. "I cant take it anymore. No one will care".

"I care. I dont want to see you lose your life over this. I understand that high school is hard and people are evil. But that's why I do what I do. I help people that are going through what you are going through now. I will help you do whatever you want to do. Whatever it is I will be there beside you every step of the way. I know theres something in your life that you want to do".

"There is". He sniffled.

"Tell me, what do you want to do"?

"I want to be a cop, like my dad and my grandfather".

"Then let's get you where you need to be. I'm Sergeant Hank Voight of the intelligence unit of Chicago police department".

"I'm Calvin Matthews".

Hank held out his hand for Calvin to take and he took his hand. Hank pulled him into a hug. "I'm glad I got to meet you Calvin". Hank said as Calvin sobbed into his chest. Relief rushing over them.

Hank promised Calvin that he'll help him out and be there for him after he gets the help he needed.

"You saved two kids lifes today, great job Hank". Alvin patted Hanks back with a smile.

"Yeah". Hank said with a sigh as he got back in the car heading to Penelopes address.

They arrived and found that her parents skipped town. Leaving everything behind, except for their needles.

"What are we going to do about Penelope"? Jay asked as Hank and Alvin walked up the stairs.

"She okay"?

"Yeah. Social services doesnt have a place for her".

"She can come live with me.  I have extra space. A good school district and she needs a good life".

"You sure"?

"Yeah, just tell them shes with me". 

"Alright". Jay walked back to his desk.

Hank walked into his office seeing Penelope sleeping on the couch. He smiled and went to pick her up.

"You came back"? She said sleepy.

"I told you I would. Now let's go home". He carried her to his car and drove home. Where she slept peacefully for the first time in years. Hank felt his life was complete now. He had a great job, a great team and friends, now a child that needed him to be there for her. He even kept up his promise to Calvin.

Five years later

"Come on, Penelope. We're going to be late". Hank called up the stairs.

"I'm coming dad". She came down the stairs.

They both hopped in the ccx ar and drove to the police academy. Calvin was graduating. He did it, with the help of Hank.

"Congratulations, officer Calvin Matthews". Hank greeted Calvin.

"Thank you. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. Thank you for believing in me when no one else did".

"Anytime, kid.  Hey, I have a job offer for you if you like"?

"Really"? Calvin said excited.

"You'll be working with the finest of Chicago. I'll be there with you every step of the way".

"Thanks, Hank. I dont know what to say".

"Dont say anything. Just go out there and be yourself. Give hope to people".

"I'll make you proud".

"I know you will, son". Hank said with proudness as he looked at the two kids he save that day standing right in front of him better than ever. Their  lives were completely changed because of him. But so was his, they changed him in many ways that he didn't know he needed.

#hank voight imagines #hank voight chicago pd #hank voight fanfiction #hank voight #chicago pd drabble #chicago pd fic #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #happys crazy queen22

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable Ch 28: Memoriam (S4E7)

Warnings: mentions of murder and sexual assault to children, discussion of nightmares

Ch 27 | Ch 29

~ ~ ~

“I had another nightmare,” was the first thing Spencer said when Lydia answered his call the next morning.

They’d had a discussion the night before about what was going on. As Spencer had put it, ‘it didn’t seem like that much of a deal until it affected his work’. Lydia was one to talk about not communicating, so she listened quietly and told him they could try to sort it out more when he got back. He told her he was staying with his mom for that night, which was honestly nice for her to hear. Lydia understood Spencer’s mixed feelings about visiting his mother, so she was glad he was going to get some time that was peaceful.

But now, he was calling her at 5 AM Vegas time, likely from his mom’s room in the hospital. Whatever was going on could not be put off until he got back. “What happened?”

“Same basement, same washer, same shoes and pants, everything. But there was someone standing over the body this time.”

“And did you recognize them?”

There was hesitance on the line. Fear felt like it was a string between their cellphones.

“Yeah, I… Lydia, I think my dad killed Riley Jenkins.”

Fuck. “Spencer, are you…” She cut herself off. Of course he wasn’t sure. But he wouldn’t have told her if he wasn’t fairly suspicious too. “What makes you think so?”

“He was standing over Riley’s body! Something happened to make my mind show me this. My subconscious is trying to tell me something!”

“Okay… That’s okay. How do we fix this?”

“I need to stay in Las Vegas. I just… I have to figure this out.”

“I’ll grab the next flight out,” Lydia replied, matter-of-factly.

“Lydia, you have class-”

“You haven’t spoken to your father in 17 years and you’re going to accuse him of sexually assaulting and stabbing a child? No, sir. Not alone you won’t. My classes will deal. They always do.”

“What if I don’t figure this out? I can’t call you away for some pointless endeavor-”

“Spencer, stop. I’m coming. This is just like any other case. We can’t guarantee we’ll solve it. But isn’t the potential of bringing a murderer to justice worth it?”

“I… Are you sure?”

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

“...thank you.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia rushed through the airport and hopped into a cab, heading straight for the hotel. She was crazy worried about Reid. There was no way to process the idea of someone you love being a murderer. She hoped it wasn’t true, but she didn’t know what would be easier for Spencer to accept. He tried to play it off, but Lydia knew he harbored an anger for the man. It could cloud his judgement.

She gave the hotel room door a solid knock, hoping Spencer would be back from the police department by now to let her in. He had warned her he was going to pick up as much information on the Riley Jenkins case that morning and meet her at his room.

“Hey,” he breathed, upon seeing her face on the other side of the door.

“Hey. Where do we start?” she began stepping inside with him and stopping short to see other people inside. “Rossi, Morgan. I thought you two would be on your way back to DC by now?”

“We didn’t want pretty boy to have to deal with this alone. But it looks like he was already on top of that.”

She gave Morgan a wide smile. “This isn’t exactly my forte. I’m mostly emotional support, so any help Spence can get would be great.”

“You aren’t just emotional support,” Spencer said, already opening the manilla folders he’d collected from the station. “I have a very important job for you.”

“Which is?”

“Interviewing the suspect, of course.”

~ ~ ~

“Riley was six at the time. His father, Lou Jenkins, was supposed to pick him up from T-Ball practice at four. But he got delayed at work, prompting Riley to walk three blocks home. When his mother got home in the early evening, she found him dead in the basement.”

“This sounds like the opening to a word problem,” Lydia muttered, just low enough that Spencer couldn’t hear it.

“So, the offender came to the house after the boy arrived home,” Rossi said.

“Or picked him up on the way there.”

“Coaxes Riley into the basement,” Morgan continued, “when he sexually assaults him.”

“The boy's mouth was taped shut,” Rossi added.

“Symbolic. The unsub fears Riley will talk, panics, weighs his options…”

“Decides to make certain he’ll never talk,” Morgan finished.

Spencer nodded.

Riley had been stabbed 9 times according to the file Lydia had in front of her. The knife belonged to the family’s fishing gear, which was conveniently in the basement.

“So,” Spencer began again, “the unsub’s a white male in his late 20s to early 30s.”

“Means we’re looking for a man in his 50s.”

Morgan confirmed their speculations. “He likely knew the boy. Maybe been to his house.”

“Neighbor,” Rossi suggested.

Lydia had been quiet this whole time. Profiling wasn’t something you picked up just by watching. The theory behind it was complex. But Spencer, at least… Spencer, she knew.

“Spence, what is it?”

His eyebrows were knit together with concentration, flipping between two pages in his hands. Rossi and Morgan looked up from their own files and noticed how stressed he looked.

“My family lived less than a half mile from the Jenkins’,” he admitted.

“You think your dad knew the boy?”

Spencer glanced at Rossi, then began rubbing his temples in thought. “I don’t know. My memory’s lack of recall just reinforces how little I knew about him.”

“Reid, I don’t need to tell you that this signature was need-based and sexual in nature. The man we’re looking for is a pedophile.” With those words, the older man leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “So, I’ll ask you again. Are you sure you want to go down this road?”

Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes. Learning your father was a pedophile might unlock some memories that Spencer’s subconscious was trying desperately to hide from him. Most people wouldn’t want to remember that.

But Spencer was Spencer. Lydia couldn’t be one to fault him for that. She’d be desperate to know the same. But then again, she was well aware that she wasn’t the gold standard for self care. So his determination, while not shocking, was disappointing.

…also a part of her was just praying that she wouldn’t have to come head to head with Spencer’s dad.

~ ~ ~

“What did you get, Morgan?” Rossi asked as he picked up the phone. He and Lydia were on their way back from the police station after thoroughly questioning the lead detective on the case. Sadly, they didn’t get much. He was basically recounting what they’d read in the case file.

Morgan, on the other hand, had gone with Spencer to visit his mom and Riley Jenkins’s father. “William Reid works at a law firm in Summerlin. Meet us there.”

“We’re ready to confront him?” Lydia said from the driver’s seat.

“Riley was on the Little League team that William coached. So far, he fits the profile.”

“What did Mr. Jenkins say?”

“He doesn’t think it was him.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” Rossi finished.

As they pulled up to their next red light, Lydia dropped her head onto the steering wheel.

“You seem excited… Green light.”

She sent Rossi a glare and kept driving. “I know how this looks for him. He’s far too emotionally invested. But Spence is brilliant. I don’t doubt that something happened. But then again, if he’s wrong, his father’s first impression of me will be me accusing him of being a pedophile.”

“Do you honestly care what William Reid thinks of you?”

She considered it for a moment. “No… I don’t think so. But what’s ‘too far’ in a situation like this?”

“I think the best you can do for Reid today is be on his side and keep him grounded. He might find out a lot about himself that he doesn’t want to know.”

Lydia nodded, pulling onto the 95. “I’ll always be on his side.”

~ ~ ~

“Can I help you?” the receptionist on Mr. Reid’s floor asked as the four of them entered the office.

“Yeah…” Spencer began, but immediately the rest of his response died in his throat.

It scared Lydia to watch him. His tongue darted around his bottom lip and his eyes dropped to the carpet, trying to find the words. There was no way he was ready to have a civil conversation with his father. Lydia reached down and grabbed his hand to reassure him, but it didn’t look like he felt it, his mouth still open to express his silence.

Rossi took over for him. “We’d like to speak with William Reid.”

“Is he expecting you?” The woman took a moment to tear her eyes from Spence’s unsure face.

Rossi flashed his badge at her. “I don’t think so.”

“He’s in a meeting right now. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Rossi nodded and she walked off, leaving the four of them in a line in front of the main desk.

“You okay?” Morgan asked quietly.

Spencer looked at him with wide eyes and Lydia could hear his uneven breaths. “Yeah… No-- Yeah-- I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

His hand fell out of hers as he scurried down one of the hallways and out of sight.

“Well, shit,” Lydia mumbled.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Morgan admitted.

Rossi shrugged. “Seventeen years is a long time to go between visits.”

“Not long enough. The kid’s still angry.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that.”

“Are you going to be able to run point on this?” Morgan turned on Lydia.

“One of us has got to be level-headed,” she said, not turning away from where Spencer disappeared. “I think I can manage it for a day.”

“You from the FBI?” a new voice said, catching all of their attention.

William Reid was a gangly man, like his son, with a pointed nose. Lydia opened her mouth first, wanting to assert control as soon as possible. “Yes, sir. Mr. Reid, I’m Lydia Ambers and these are agents Rossi and Morgan.”

Rossi showed off his badge again, being the only person to have it on hand.

“This wouldn’t be about the city council investigation, would it?” he joked.

“No, this is a personal matter, sir,” she replied, not letting herself hesitate for a minute. “It concerns your son.”

“My son?” His face faltered. “Did something happen?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Spencer sounded winded as he rounded the corner and joined them once again. Lydia stared him down, trying to silently ask if he was okay, but his eyes never left his father. “Hello, dad.”

~ ~ ~

William pulled them into his office to have a private discussion. Lydia immediately took the seat opposite him. As she suspected, Spencer didn’t want to sit, so Rossi sat beside her and Morgan hovered behind them.

“You don’t look like me anymore,” William started, looking at his son to his left. “You used to. Everybody said so.”

“They say some people look like their dogs, too. It’s attributed to prolonged mutual exposure. Elderly couples, also. They unconsciously mimic the expressions of people they’ve been around their whole life. So it kind of-- kind of makes sense that I wouldn’t really look like you. I haven’t seen you in twenty years.”

That shut him up. Clearly he felt guilty for ignoring his son for the majority of his life.

...but not guilty enough to fix it.

“Mr. Reid, we’re currently investigating a case we believe you were involved in many years ago. Do you remember a kid by the name of Riley Jenkins?”

The man looked between his son and Lydia. “Of course.”

“I’ve been having dreams about him for a really long time,” Spencer explained. “But recently, the dream changed. I saw his killer and he was you.”

William raised an eyebrow, then calmly said, “Interesting dream.”

“You don’t seem all that surprised,” Morgan noted.

“I stopped being surprised by Spencer’s mind a long time ago.” He tried once more to keep the air light, but Lydia could see the nervousness in his features. At least, he knew where this was going.

“Mr. Reid, you are now on the suspect list for the death of Riley Jenkins.”

“I’m sorry?” he demanded.

“After Spencer looked into his dream, he got the perspective of some uninvolved parties, who agree that you fit parts of the suspect’s profile. It is, as you know, our job to investigate all reasonable theories.”

“You’re not actually saying you think I killed Riley Jenkins?”

“We didn’t say that,” Spencer responded.

“Good, ‘cause that’s absurd.”

“We’d just like permission to look through your computer,” Morgan continued. “Access your records.”

“And what would you be looking for exactly?” Lydia waited for one of her coworkers to answer, but none of them did. “You want access to my files?” His eyes locked onto Spencer’s. “Get a warrant.”

~ ~ ~

“We can’t get a warrant,” Spencer told Garcia as he and Lydia walked back to his hotel room. “We have to go under the radar on this one.”

“You want me to hack your father’s network?” Lydia could hear Garcia say over the line. “You sure about this?”

“I really would wish people would stop asking me that.”

He shut his phone quickly and Lydia was about to say something about the others being concerned for him when he opened the door and they both saw a small, flat package in the doorway.

“‘You’re looking at the wrong guy,’” Spencer read off the front of the folder.

Inside was a file on a man named Gary Brendan Michaels.

“I’ll tell Morgan and Rossi to meet us in the lobby again,” Lydia told him.

~ ~ ~

“Was the envelope dropped off at the front desk first?” Rossi asked as he and Morgan surveyed the mugshots in front of them.

“Nope, it went straight to my room.”

“So they knew what room you were in.”

“I do have to admit, the timing of this is a little suspicious,” Derek stated.

“Yeah. An hour after I see my father, we’re handed another suspect?”

“You think you knew this guy?”

Spencer had told her that he could have sworn this man had played chess with him as a child, but he seemed hesitant to admit it to Rossi. “I don’t know. I-I think so, but I’m not sure. I- No- I don’t know.”

“Exposed himself to a minor. That’s a precursor to molestation.”

“And murder,” Morgan agreed. “We should take a closer look at this guy.”

Seconds later, Derek’s phone went off and he reached down and put it on speaker.

“Yeah, talk to me, baby girl.”

“I’m not interrupting boy time at Crazy Horse Too, am I?”

“I’m right here, Garcia,” Lydia announced.

“Sweetheart! No one told me you were headed to Vegas.”

“Well, it wasn’t for the strip clubs, I can tell you that.”

Lydia could hear the smile in Garcia’s voice as she moved on. “Reid, we’ve been all up in your father’s business.”

“What did you find?” he asked, softly. Lydia would have reached out to hold his hand again, but he instinctively crossed his arms.

“Well, let me tell you first what I did not find. No kiddie porn, no memberships to illicit websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history.”

“What about his finances?”

The voice that answered belonged to Hotch. “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we can find.”

“Well,” Prentiss interrupted, “he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago, but I think we could overlook that.”

“How many people can you fit into your batcave, Garcia?” Lydia joked.

“Just the two, Sugar.”

“He’s smart,” Spencer said, pulling them back on track. “Is it possible he kept things under the table?”

“Well, of course,” Hotch argued. “But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.”

“We can tell you other things about him, if you wanna know.”

Spencer nodded, before realizing Emily couldn’t see him. “I’m listening,” he swallowed.

“He’s a workaholic, he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money, but he doesn’t spend a lot of it. He has a modest house. He drives a hybrid. He doesn’t travel much. He stays away from the casinos. Um, and according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”

Hotch picked up from there. “He appears to spend most of his free time alone, he goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favorite author is-”

“Isaac Asimov,” Spencer answered for him. “I remember that one.”

“He does have one other major interest,” Garcia continued. “On his home computer, he’s archived, like, a kajillion things on one common subject.”

“What?”

“You, kiddo. He’s got, like, everything that’s been published online. Every article you’ve been quoted in,  pieces you’ve written for behavioral science journals, he even has a copy of your dissertation.”

“He’s keeping tabs on you,” Rossi noted. “That’s saying something.”

“Yeah, that he googled me,” Spencer snapped. “That makes up for everything. I’m gonna get some air.”

Both men looked at Lydia as her boyfriend stormed off into the casino.

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s give him a minute to cool down, shall we?”

“I thought we were giving him good news,” Garcia sighed, disappointed.

“What else can we do?” Hotch asked.

“Look up a name for us, if you would,” Morgan said into his phone. “Gary Brendan Michaels.”

“You like this Gary guy for the Riley murder?”

“Somebody does.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia was lucky that Spencer didn’t exactly blend in with the casino scenery. She made a beeline for the poker games and got a glimpse of his back at a 5-card draw machine. When she got over there, a woman with a martini glass was leaning over his shoulder, talking to him.

Lydia wasn’t the jealous type, seeing as this was Spencer she was dating, so she found it funny that he’d attracted a prostitute in the 5 minutes she’d been gone.

“...if you employ optimal strategy and always draw for the royal flush, you can push those odds to 2%.”

“Hm,” she nodded, intrigued. “Smart and handsome.”

Lydia saw his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, probably just now realizing who he was talking to, so she decided to step in on his behalf. “Sorry, honey. He’s a bit too clueless to be a good target.”

“Lydia!” Spencer exclaimed. The woman looked between them and gracefully walked off to find someone else. “I wasn’t-”

She laughed. “I got you, Spence. We’ve got more important things to worry about. How are you feeling?”

“Something’s wrong,” he argued. “I can’t just ignore the signs my brain is sending me.”

“We’re not ignoring them. But there are so many ways to interpret a dream. Don’t you think our first job should be finding out what happened to Riley? Your dad doesn’t fit the profile of a pedophile, but he could still be involved. I promise you, Spencer, you’re not going crazy. Just keep trusting your gut and we’ll get somewhere.”

A small smile pulled at his lips as he considered this. “I don’t tell you I love you enough.”

“Don’t worry-” She leaned down and gave him a peck on the lips. “-I know.”

“You two are annoyingly perfect for each other,” Derek said, appearing with Rossi. “So, what’s our next move?”

“Getting out of this casino, for one,” Lydia grumbled. “The overpowering smell of smoke is making my head hurt.”

Rossi nodded. “Reminder of all the people victim to cigarettes.”

“You know,” Spencer began, following the rest of the group back to the lobby, “recently, there’s been a lot of success in…”

Lydia raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what had just grabbed Spencer’s attention. She knew he wouldn’t have stopped his tangent willingly. “What?”

“Hypnosis.”

~ ~ ~

“What did the detective say?” Lydia asked as Spencer hopped back into the car.

“We get 24 hours to question him.”

“And Morgan?” she continued, noticing he had not followed Spence out of the police station.

“He’s talking to Garcia about Gary Michaels.”

Lydia took a breath. “You… didn’t want to learn more about Michaels before taking in your dad?”

“You don’t think I can be objective either,” he huffed.

“You were never going to be able to be objective on this,” she argued. “That’s what we’re here for. To help you keep an open mind.”

“I saw him burning bloody clothes!” Spencer finally shouted.

He’d repeated those same words multiple times after his visit to the hypnotherapist. The woman had warned him that his memory could be distorted by the case, but Spencer was certain this had happened.

“Okay.” Lydia’s voice was much softer now, though she wasn’t sure if it was an attempt to comfort him or if she was genuinely startled by his reaction. “Then I want you to listen to one more thing before we take your father into custody. Watching your father go to prison, even if you are pissed at him, isn’t as cathartic as you think.”

“If he did something, he deserves to be brought to justice,” Spencer snapped, though he was much tamer now.

Lydia was glad to see Morgan climbing into the backseat, seeing as she couldn’t find much to respond to that. “Gary Michaels disappeared soon after the Riley murder. Luckily, we’ve got some DNA that Garcia’s running through ViCAP to see if he’s offended under a different name.”

“Good,” Lydia replied.

Spencer shot her a glare. “Let’s go.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia dressed up slightly to interrogate William Reid. As Morgan had told her, they wanted him on his toes, so she needed to look like a strong authority figure.

...which she wasn’t.

“Mr. Reid, good to see you again.”

“Where’s my son?” he demanded.

“Dr. Reid is busy at the moment. We consider accusing a family member of murder as a conflict of interest.”

“This isn’t an FBI case and the normal rules don’t apply,” he argued. “I want to speak to my son.”

“Mr. Reid, your son has come forward as witness to you burning bloody clothing soon after the Riley murder. Do you deny this event happening?”

“I want council.”

Lydia could feel the word ‘fuck’ burning behind her eyelids. Lawyers getting involved was… difficult to say the least.

Luckily, she didn’t have to deal with that. As she opened her mouth, the door clicked open behind her.

“It’s a simple question,” Spencer said. “How did the blood get on the clothes?”

“I told you, I’m not going to talk without council.”

“If you don’t have anything to hide, you don’t need a lawyer.” Lydia could feel Spencer leaning threateningly above her.

“Spencer, please. I’m not stupid… I’m proud of you, you know that?”

“I’m not stupid either.”

Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, Lydia left him to his questioning and joined Rossi and Morgan behind the glass.

“Good try,” Derek told her. “This is too personal for them, there was no way they weren’t going to confront each other.”

“I just want to help him, Derek.”

“I know, kiddo.”

“Like you said, I do have special talents,” Spencer was saying across the glass. “And one of them is being able to tell when somebody’s hiding something.”

“You’re angry that I left. And you have a right to be.”

“You want to make it up to me? Tell me the truth.”

Lydia knew from his face and his silence that William was considering it. “I didn’t kill that boy… But I know who did.”

“Gary Michaels?”

His demeanor dropped immediately. “How’d you know that?”

“William Reid knows about Michaels?” Lydia murmured.

“So does Detective Hyde,” Rossi informed her. “We’re pretty sure he’s the one who put that file underneath Reid’s door.”

“Great.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “We love a reliable justice system.”

~ ~ ~

“How’s Spencer?”

“We’re on our way back from California,” was all Morgan said. It was possible that Spencer was with him, but Lydia figured Derek just didn’t want to answer the question. “There was a fingerprint on Gary Michaels glasses that didn’t belong to him.”

Hotch had called to let them know that Gary Michaels’s DNA had been identified on a body found 7 years ago just across the state line. He’d been beaten to death with a blunt object. So the boys went to speak to the California detectives. And now Spencer was convinced that his father had murdered Michaels instead of Riley.

“Let me know what they find.”

“We’ll likely be back at the Fountain View before then.”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby, then.”

“Oh! And I just got word that JJ has gone into labor.”

Lydia blinked at the news, trying to do some quick math in her head. “Really? She wasn’t due for like… two to three weeks, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she was surprised, too. But the whole team is at the hospital.”

“Let’s wrap this up soon then, shall we?”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer’s leg bounced at an unbelievably fast rate. Lydia could tell he hadn’t even noticed it.

When Derek’s phone began ringing, he looked at the name, then to Spencer. Last chance to go back. To not know if his father was a murderer.

Spencer chose the truth.

“Yeah, this is Agent Morgan… You did?... You’re 100% certain?... Ok. Thank you.” Spencer stood up, his fingers slipping from Lydia’s grasp, his eyes begging for answers. “We’re going to have to get an arrest warrant.”

Lydia’s heart leapt to her throat. It was a painful feeling. She hoped that Spencer felt vindicated, for his own sake, but there was no way this wouldn’t haunt him for years to come.

“It was a match?”

“Yeah,” Morgan breathed. “But it wasn’t your dad.”

~ ~ ~

Lou Jenkins looked up at her curiously as Lydia entered the interrogation room. Spencer followed him in, but didn’t say anything for a while.

“Mr. Jenkins, I am sorry for your son's death. Such traumatic news cannot be easy to recover from.”

“You didn’t bring me here to talk about my son.”

“I imagine the two situations are related.”

He glared at her. “Get on with it.”

“Did you kill Gary Michaels?” she asked, softly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He raped and murdered my son.”

“What proof did you have of that claim, Mr. Jenkins?”

“He admitted it to me.”

“When? Did he approach you-?”

“No. No, he admitted it after accusation.”

Lydia swallowed. “Mr. Jenkins,” she hesitated, “you were threatening to kill him. It is possible that he admitted to something he didn’t do out of fear. What made you approach him in the first place?”

“He approached another kid in the neighborhood.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was told by a concerned party.”

“Who? Another parent?”

Lou crossed his arms. “That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

Lydia tried to consider his motivations. He was clearly not telling them something. But what was the harm in naming the person who came forward unless they were a party to the murder?

“Who was it?” Spencer demanded before she could speak her own mind.

“I told you, that’s all I’m going to say on the-”

“Who was it?” he tried again, more forcefully.

Lydia looked up at her boyfriend, trying to calm him, but his attention was driven away from the both of them as Detective Hyde walked in. “Agent Reid?”

He spun around, pointing at the man threateningly. “Do not interfere with this interrogation, detective! This is not your case anymore.”

Lydia unconsciously reached forward and put her hand up against Spencer’s back, watching him lose his patience. He was angry. No one would give him what he needed so desperately to know. Until his mother stepped around the detective.

“Spencer, it was me,” she told him nervously.

Lydia leaned forward to see Will Reid standing beside her as well. She’d never seen Spencer’s parents together, and understandably, he was a bit surprised to see it as well. His eyes flitted from them, to the detective, to Lou, to her.

He was overwhelmed. His eyes read to her like a book of the truth that had been haunting him for years. His desperation had been growing. But if only it had been his father, he could have been relieved by the news. He didn’t want to consider his mom a murderer.

Silently, he reached around to grab the palm she had placed on his back, gave it a quick squeeze between both of his hands, and followed his parents out of the room.

~ ~ ~

By the time Lydia had gotten a signed confession from Lou, Spencer had come back. He explained to her his mother’s story. How she’d gone to Lou after she saw the way Gary Michaels was looking at him. How, after identifying Michaels, Lou followed him home and killed him. And how his mother had walked onto the scene and, horrified, slipped in Michaels’s blood.

Lou and William had agreed to keep Diana out of it, if Lou ever got caught. They didn’t want her implicated for something she had no capacity to prevent. And upon learning what had happened, William immediately set to burning Diana’s soiled clothing, a scene that poor Spencer had happened upon, which caused unrest in his mind for many years following.

“I’m so sorry if this is not how you planned this trip to go-”

“Spencer!” she laughed. “We solved the case! That’s all that needed to happen. The family drama I could have done without, yeah? Are you satisfied with your truth?”

He thought about it only momentarily. “Very. It had been weighing on me for quite some time.”

“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to try and get into your dad’s good graces, because we could use a rich family member between us.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but still couldn’t hide his smile as she skipped away towards where his parents were still speaking. 

Morgan, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to throw Spencer a huge ‘I-told-you-so’, approached him, but couldn’t formulate the words before Spencer said something so out of character and… frankly, just exciting, that Derek was stunned into silence.

“I’m going to marry that girl.”

Tags: @kris-stuff​, @wooya1224​, @bispences​, @anotherr-fine-mess​, @eddysocs​

#criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds oc #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #oc #derek morgan #david rossi #lydia ambers #untouchable #untouchable ch28

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

Afraid Ch. 12

Warnings: Nightmare scene. Blood mention. Possible tw for that.

Taglist: @sparxx27, @kaitieskidmore1, @fandomshit6000, @leatherandheels​. @madamsixx​

“It’s called Braxton Hicks contractions” the doctor explained to a fresh off a panic attack Nikki who had just regained the color in his face.

“So what does this mean? Is the baby okay? Is he going to come prematurely?” Nikki asked his hand in mine squeezing slightly.

“The baby is perfectly fine, we are however worried about (y/n) blood pressure levels. They were high, which granted you were in a stressful situation, and we want to monitor that so we’re suggesting an appointment with your regular doctor next week to recheck your levels to assess if you need to be on bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy.” He smiled softly closing my file in his hands.

“Any other questions?” He asks standing from his chair.

“Between now and the next appointment should she be taking it easy?” Nikki again speaks up before I can get a word out.

“For now maintain your normal routine until told otherwise.”

“And what about sex?” He blurts out.

“Nikki!” I smack him on the shoulder my face growing red.

“I was waiting for that question.” The doctor chuckles. “As long as you’re taking it easy, the baby is okay so it is safe to have sex. Also if you’re engaging in cunnalingus make sure to not blow air into her vaginal canal.”

“Jesus who’s blowing into there, it’s not an animal balloon.” Nikki shakes his head in disbelief and I feel my embarrassment growing.

“Thank you doctor for your time. I think we’re done here” I just want to be home in my bed with Nikki, Whiskey, and Alarik at this point. I get my things together and head to the waiting room while Nikki bothered the doctor with more questions relating to our sex life that I didn’t care to hear.

Tommy rushes up to me looking about just as shell shocked as Nikki had been and places both his hands on my belly.

“So you and the baby are okay? He’s not coming yet?” He asks worried his eyes bouncing from mine to my bump.

“Yes Tommy everything is fine. Yeesh.” I roll my eyes and look around the waiting room not seeing Vince. “Where’s Vince?” “Yeah Tommy you would think she’s having your kid.” Nikki surfaces chuckling and then getting a serious look on his face. “She’s not having your kid right?”

“Ew! No way!” Tommy and I say at the same time followed by “What do you mean ew?” also in unison.

Nikki tosses an arm around my shoulder chuckling while directing us out of the hospital.

“It just wouldn’t be the first time Tommy and I were eskimo brothers is all” He smirks.

“For our sake I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that to me.” I do however elbow his ribs a little for good measure. “And nobody answered me about Vince.”

“Oh yeah, he said he had some stuff to do so he called a cab and left.” Tommy shrugs hopping into the backseat of the jeep.

The ride home is about as quiet as it can be with Tommy talking the whole ride back to the house, but Nikki was not nearly as responsive. He kept squeezing my thigh and casting nervous glances at me that he would try to cover with a smile when I caught him. I know this episode had scared him, but the doctor said I was fine now and these kinds of contractions were normal. My hand rubbed across my stomach that seemed to expand every day and I felt our baby kick in response. Yeah, he was fine. A shit head just like his dad, but fine.

The sound of Nikki undressing to get into bed wakes me up and I glance at the clock near our bed which reads that it’s a little past three in the morning. His arms snake around my side and his hands come to rest on my stomach while he places soft kisses on my exposed shoulder blade. I sigh and turn my head to look over my shoulder at his small shows of affection. He was so different from the strung out Nikki I had met years ago.

“What?” His smile is crooked, and boyish, and I can’t help but place a small kiss against his lips.

“I just love you Nikki Sixx.” I hum getting comfortable again in bed.

“And I love you (y/n) Sixx” Nikki yawned pressing a soft kiss to the side of my head.

Nikki had taken to calling me by his last name over the course of the past few weeks despite us not being engaged or an engagement even being mentioned. I loved it, because it was sweet and showed that he really saw a forever future with me more than me just being the mother of his child. I also hated it because it filled me with a sense of dread that I just couldn’t put my finger on. Getting married would mean that there is more to lose if we were to end things between us. And I couldn’t afford to lose more than what was already at stake with us having a child together.

“I just don’t understand why you have to go back.” I pouted watching as Nikki packed a small suitcase to go back to touch some things up for the album. I was too far along in my pregnancy to fly and was still being monitored for high blood pressure.

“Babe it’s only for a few days.” He laughed at my mini temper tantrum and pressed a kiss to my hairline. “I will be back on new years eve so we will get to ring in the new year together.”

“You know as a recovering fuck up,” I began and Nikki collapsed to the floor in laughter which made me fall into a fit of giggles. “You know it’s hard when your old drinking holidays pass you up and you’re fat and pregnant.”

“Baby. You’re not fat.” Nikki cooed.

“Tell that to swollen ankles and stomach the size of a watermelon.” I emphasize my point by pointing to each body part I mentioned.

“Well when he is born that will all go to normal and you get a mini me out of the deal. I would say you’re winning more than losing”

“Oh well when you put it that way.” I roll my eyes.

“All you have to do is hold down the fort for a few days and I promise I’ll bring you a tape so you get first listen to the album you helped create.” He pinched at my cheek and I pressed a kiss to his wrist.

“That’s all I ask please”

Saying goodbye to Nikki at the airport was harder than I thought. I finally let tears stream down my face as I drove back home in silence. The house had never seemed so large and yet so small as it did when I walked into it alone. Somebody was always here, whether it was Nikki himself or the boys all here, it was never this quiet. I let myself wallow for a few more minutes before I decide it would be better to cuddle on the couch and watch tv with Whiskey than to cry.

The ringing of the house phone makes me jump awake. The living room is dimly lit from the tv playing in the background, but the house itself is dark. I still am trying to get my bearings and I hear the phone ring again. Slowly shuffling my way over to where the phone was hooked up in the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Sixx?” The voice on the other end says though everything sounds staticy.

“Um yes?” I don’t argue that I’m not actually Mrs. Sixx as I normally would. “This is the Toronto police.” My stomach falls into my feet, fearing Nikki relapsed and did something stupid.

“I’m sorry, but there was an accident with the plane. Nobody made it.”

The phone slips from my hands and I collapse to the floor. My hands are shaking and the sound of my tears hitting the tile is the only thing I can hear. Until I start screaming. I’m screaming and crying so violently I begin to gag and I can’t catch my breath. My stomach cramps and I’m vomiting on the kitchen floor. My baby boy is going to have to grow up without a father now. My stomach cramps again and I feel warmth rush down my legs. My water can’t be breaking now this is the worst time to come oh he is such his father’s son. I crawl on my hands and knees to the bathroom down the hall and use the counter to pull myself up and flick on the light. Red. Everything is red. My water didn’t break. This was blood. More blood than I had ever seen in my life.

“No no no no.” I scream. “This can’t be happening.”

I wake up in a cold sweat nearly tossing Alarik off of my legs from the sudden motion. I look around the living room and see the sun is just begining to set. I fling the cover off of me and examine my stomach and make sure no blood is around me. The phone rings and I’m hit with a wave of anxiety that my dream was a premonition. My mom used to say she would frequently dream of things happening to her before they would really happen. My hands are shaking as I take the phone off the hook and press it to my ear.

“H-Hello?”

“Hey baby we just made it to the hotel.” Nikki’s voice comes over the telephone and I had never felt so relieved in my life.

“Oh good. Good.” I breathe out.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong with the baby?” I can hear the panic in Nikki’s voice.

“I’m okay and baby is okay. I just had a nightmare is all and the phone woke me up.” I physically and mentally relax now that I’ve gotten to hear Nikki’s voice.

“Aww babe you’re having nightmares without me there?” I can practically see the smirk on his face even without him being in front of me.

“In my defense when was the last time I had to sleep alone, or be home alone?”

“If it makes you feel better I probably won’t be getting much sleep at all here.” His soft chuckle warms my heart and I’m glad to know I’m not the only one struggling with the distance.

“Hey maybe T-Bone will wanna snuggle since you’re both there without your women.” I joke.

“What makes you think we aren’t snuggling right now?” He ups the anti.

“I miss you already.” I whisper into the phone.

“I missed you the moment I stepped onto the plane. How am I going to survive without your soft snores in my ear?”

“With a good nights rest” I snort into the phone and his responding chuckle calms the remaining nerves I have from my horrible dream.

“Speaking of, I need to get some shut eye. Flights always make me-”

“Extremely tired. I know” I finish for him.

“Goodnight baby I’ll call when I have a free moment.”

“I love you Nikki Sixx.”

“I love you (y/n) Sixx.”

I hold on to the phone for a few minutes after the line goes dead as a reminder that my dream wasn’t real and Nikki was in fact safe at his hotel right now. I pinch my shoulder for good measure to make sure I really was awake this time and round the corner to see Alarik and Whiskey waiting at the top of the stairs for me. They follow me into the bedroom and stand at the end of the bed staring as I get into bed. I look over at the empty spot next to me that normally Nikki laid in and felt a twinge of sadness.

“Well I know Daddy says you’re not supposed to get in the bed, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him huh?” I smile at my fuzzy companions and pat the bed signalling them to climb up and they oblige.

I sigh and snuggle deeper into my covers and get comfortable ready for sleep to take over my body.

But then the baby rolls onto my bladder.

#nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx fic #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx #motley crue fanfic #Motley Crue #possible tw for blood mention #afraid

[mylovelyfandoms]

Seokmin’s backstory

The Symbol of the Lightning Bolt

Basic Information

A/N: This turned out to be a lot longer than expected

Warnings: Abuse, domestic violence, mentions of drinking, slight mentions of discrimination against disabled, poorly written descriptions of depression, angst, slight mention of murder

(GIF not mine)

- Seokmin was born with the powers of a water elemental

- His father, who he was named after, wanted nothing to do with him, but his mother accepted him for who he was

- So, in order to keep his wife happy, Seokmin’s father was forced to keep their child

- Though, he didn’t do it happily

- Thinking that he was the father of a ‘monster’, Seokmin’s father started drinking on most days in order to forget 

- He wanted to forget that a monster like him shared his DNA

- He wanted to forget that his own child could move water

- He wanted to forget that adding to everything, his child was also hard of hearing 

- So he went to bars and  would come home drunk at odd hours of the night

- Seokmin’s mother knew that it wasn’t a good, but if his drinking was the only thing that kept her son with her, then she would deal with it

- So that’s why she stayed silent as her husband started hitting her

- She needed to keep him satisfied

- If she went to the police, he would tell them about her son

- She couldn’t have him taken away from her

- She kept him away from everyone

- She just wanted to protect him

- But as Seokmin grew up, she couldn’t protect him from his own father

- When he turned three, Seokmin started to figure out his birth power more, being able to get better control of the water

- One night, he figured out how to keep a ball of water above his head so that wherever he walked, it went with him

- He was so excited, he ran into the kitchen to show him mom

- “Mommmy! Mommy! Look!”

- He only stopped in his tracks when he saw his father standing over his mom’s trembling body

- His head cocked in confusion and he let his hands drop, having the ball of water drop with it

- “You deaf little brat”

- His dad’s words were slurred and his eyes were hooded

- Though, Seokmin didn’t hear him

- All he was focused on was the blood all over his father’s fists and his mother’s face, making him shake in fear

- “Mommy?”

- “It’s okay, Dokyeom”

- She used her nickname on him

- It was the name she had originally wanted to name him, but his father was too persistent and making him take his own name

- “He’s not going to hurt you, I-”

- Seokmin’s father kicked her in the stomach, making her stop her words

- “Shut up, you’re too loud”

- That was the first day his father laid a hand on him

- After that, it became like clockwork

- Seokmin’s father would come home from the bar and Seokmin and his mother would hide in a locked bathroom

- The two would wait until the drunk man passed out before stepping out of the bathroom

- Unfortunately, there were times when Seokmin’s father came home sooner than expected or they came out of the bathroom too early

- Those times were the reason why Seokmin started wishing he wasn’t born

- His mother thought he didn’t know the reason why the two of them were always getting beat, but Seokmin constantly heard the slurred shouts that came from his father’s mouth

- So, he kept a bright smile on his face to keep his mom happy

- But he couldn’t stand the fact that she was getting hurt because of his existence

- He had constant thoughts that no one his age should have

- He thought of using his water manipulation to drown his father-or maybe even himself

- He thought of running away just so his father would stop being so angry

- But he knew that he was the only thing keeping his mother happy, so he stayed

- He tried to fight back at times, using his water manipulation to his best ability

- But as his fifth birthday neared, his control over the water was weaker, the glow in his hands was fading, and his hearing was somehow getting worse and worse

- For a while after he turned five, Seokmin was completely powerless

- He thought that his lack of powers would make the beatings stop, but his father knew that having powers from birth meant that he would always be one of the affected

- It was the middle of the day when Seokmin’s father returned home

- Seokmin’s mother was in the kitchen so it was just Seokmin and his father in the living room

- His father started to stumble towards them, and Seokmin’s immediate reaction was to run

- “Get back here!” 

- Seokmin was fast, but his father managed to be faster

- When he caught Seokmin in his arms, Seokmin tried to fight him off

- As he was getting dragged down the stairs, Seokmin wanted to do anything to get the man away

- So he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed

- He felt his voice crack as he went higher and suddenly, glass shattered all around them and Seokmin’s father let go of him

- When Seokmin opened his eyes again, his father had fallen down the stairs, clutching onto his ears with his eyes shut

- He immediately ran into the kitchen and saw the windows cracked and his mother standing with wide eyes

- Seokmin didn’t understand why his mother looked so scared until the door opened with a bang so loud that even Seokmin could hear it

- “He’s in there!” Seokmin heard his father shout

- “No, Dokyeommie!”

- “Mommy!”

- He ran into her arms but groups of soldiers came in and pulled him away from her

- Seokmin started to scream and fight, but the soldiers just clamped a hand over his mouth and took him away

- At first, he was brought into the base from his neighborhood where most of the affected are taken first

- There, he was given his first pair of hearing aids to keep him from using his power

- He sat at a bench, waiting for it to be his turn to get transported to the facility

- On the bench was a boy who looked a little bit younger than him

- The boy had the same hearing aids that he had on, so Seokmin gave him a smile

- “Wh...” 

- The boy’s voice was soft, as if he was testing out his volume for the first time

- “What’s your name?”

- Seokmin looked at the boy with a soft smile and thought about his name

- There was no way he wanted people to call him by his father’s name

- The thought of him made him angry

- So, he thought back to his mother

- “My name is Dokyeom”

- “I’m Seungkwan”

- The two started to quietly converse, trying to distract themselves from reality

- At that point, they were no longer kids. They became victims

- They were brought into the same truck going to the facility, so they were glad that at least they had each other

- The two of them were brought into separate testing rooms 

- Seokmin had his hearing aids taken out and was forced to scream in order to show off the level of his power

- Then, they put his hearing aids back in and forced him to scream again, making him yell out in pain and drop to the floor, trying to stop the ringing from the device

- “That’s what happens if you scream with those on, got it? If you’re caught without them, you’ll be sent to the west wing, and trust me, you don’t want to be in the west wing.” 

- They tattooed him on the back of his hand with a lightning bolt and the letter ‘S’

- When Seokmin thought that he was finally able to go, they brought back a muzzle 

- “What’s...what’s that for?”

- “Well we can’t have you screaming, now can we?”

- They first put a piece of tape over his mouth, then the muzzle

- He felt the pressure as they tightened the muzzle at the back of his head 

- A couple of clicks sounded as they locked the buckle in place, just so he couldn’t take it off

- Then they got the latched from the back and looped it around his neck, adjusting it to his size

- They clicked the buckle together and locked it, giving Seokmin an uncomfortable feeling as it rested against his throat

- The muzzle felt tight on his face and pressed against his lips

- It was an uncomfortable feeling, but Seokmin knew it was one that he had to get used to 

- “You’ll only be able to take it off when you’re eating with the other ‘S lightnings’ at meal times.” 

- Once he was finally able to get out of the testing room, they led him into the cell where he would be spending the rest of his life

- He felt the familiarity wash over him as he was shoved into his cell, remembering the way that his father had done similarly over the years

- A five year old should not have those kinds memories

- He started to think about all those times his father told him that he was a monster and a disgrace

- His mind started to spiral back to a dark place until he saw Seungkwan walking towards him with eyes lit up

- How could anyone be happy at this time?

- Seungkwan his finger at Seokmin then back at himself, making Seokmin cock his head to the side

- Seungkwan did the motion again and Seokmin finally understood that he was trying to say that they were in the same cell

- Seokmin gave him a polite smile and nodded

- Seungkwan sat down with him and started to try to mime around

- From reflex, Seokmin would try to talk only to be reminded that he had a muzzle on him

- It took him a couple of days to get used to keeping his mouth shut

- Eventually, they had to go to work

- They were labor workers, working only with the other ‘screamers’ on construction or making miscellaneous items that the facilities sold for their funds

- The only time they were able to take off their muzzles and tape was meal time 

- Instead of being able to eat with the others, the screamers had to stay in a separate room where the only noise allowed was their eating and the soldiers 

- They were under strict and constant supervision from the soldiers and occasionally  the scary sun that could control their bodies

- Though, despite the constant supervision, Seokmin and Seungkwan always found a way to talk to each other when they had the chance

- The two of them got caught more often than not, always facing the beatings or isolation for a couple of days without meal time

- Seokmin hated the beatings, but he always took the chance to be able to talk

- As time went by in the facility, Seokmin was always distracted with either his work or his new friend

- He was glad for it, because that meant that he wouldn’t think of his father

- But then there were times where he felt guilty

- Times where Seungkwan called him by his nickname and the thought of his mother was only in the back of his head

- Those were the times Seokmin hated the most

- He would go quiet from whatever hushed conversation that he and Seungkwan were having and his whole mood would fall

- His thoughts would go spiraling again and he constantly felt like he was worthless

- Eventually, Seungkwan caught on whenever these things happened and tried to do whatever he could to make him laugh or feel anything other than despair

- Sometimes, Seokmin watched his friend’s attempts of making him laugh and felt immediately better 

- Other times, when his spiral was particularly bad, Seungkwan would distract him with some sort of rumor he heard around the facility at mealtime

- Seokmin didn’t ever want too admit it, but Seungkwan’s attempts of making him feel better always worked

- There was no one that understood him better than Seungkwan and he liked to think that he knew Seungkwan better than anyone too

- So, as time went by, the two were peas in a pod

- They were always together

- If you saw one of them, you would immediately spot the other

- They were best friends, and the small opportunities of talking somehow helped them get closer

- One day, Seokmin and Seungkwan were working in construction

- Seokmin was working with a hammer and Seungkwan behind him with a saw

- When Seokmin saw the ‘scary sun’ step out to the courtyard, he immediately turned to alert Seungkwan

- Seokmin tapped on his friend’s back, having him whirl around, swinging his saw around with him

- It hit Seokmin on the side and dragged it, making him let out a muffled, yet loud, groan

- He fell to the floor, curling in his body and clutching his side

- When Seokmin lifted his fingers to his hand, he saw red blood staining his fingertips

- He could feel Seungkwan at his side, probably doing what he could to apologize

- “What’s going on here?”

- Seokmin peeked up and saw one of the soldiers standing over him with a fierce glare and crossed arms

- With a feared groan, Seokmin curled into himself, trying to hide himself from the soldier

- No matter how much pain he was feeling, he was too terrified of what the soldiers would do

- So, Seokmin clutched his side, trying to do whatever he could to stop the bleeding and avoid contact with the soldier

- When he felt two hands on his shoulders, he immediately flinched

- “Hey, calm down”

- The soldier pulled Seokmin up to his feet and wrapped his arm around her shoulders

- “This will probably get you to the healers. Your friend might get in trouble, though”

- Seokmin turned to look at the soldier with wide eyes

- He wasn’t expecting so much kindness from the people that often beat them just for accidentally giving a strange look

- But this soldier, she seemed different. When Seokmin was able to look at her face again, she was no longer glaring and just had a soft expression on her face

- Seokmin tried to open his mouth to thank her, but was instantly reminded that he couldn’t

- The solder exchanged a couple of words with his  led Seokmin through the buildings, holding him up as they walked

- “I know you’re probably wondering what I’m doing helping you”

- She stayed silent for a beat, as if she was expecting him to reply

- She lowered her voice

- “I’m an affected, like you. I’m a senser”

- Seokmin snapped his head up 

- “After I turned 20, they took me underground, but I escaped and used a uniform as a disguise.”

- Seokmin shot her a confused look

- Even though he couldn’t talk, his eyes said everything

- “There’s this one little boy, he’s a senser like me so you probably don’t know him...I looked out for him when he first got here. I don’t want to just leave him, but if I tell him that I’m here, then I’ll get caught and we’ll both be in trouble”

- The soldier knocked on the door of the infirmary 

- After a couple of moments, it was opened to reveal a room filled with gurneys and plants

- The boy who opened the door had a pair of circle lens glasses and a lab coat, much different than the prison uniform that Seokmin was wearing

- “Can you take another one, Wonwoo?”

- The boy on the other side of the door-Wonwoo-sighed and nodded, opening the door wider 

- “Do you have the keys for his muzzle? That’s just inhumane”

- Seokmin shot the girl a hopeful look, but she just shook her head in disappointment

- As Wonwoo let out another sigh, Seokmin sat on one of the gurneys and allowed Wonwoo to take his hand off of his side

- “What happened?”

- “His friend swung a saw around and nicked him on the side”

- Wonwoo raised an eyebrow 

- “Looks like more than a nick”

- Seokmin watched as Wonwoo lifted his uniform up and started to inspect the wound

- “Alright, I know what he needs,” Wonwoo stood up and turned to the plants, “Have him write his birth name, I need to look through my files”

- Seokmin grabbed onto the paper and pen that the soldier offered and carefully wrote out his birth name and preferred name in parenthesis

- He handed it to Wonwoo who read it with a soft smile

- “Alright Dokyeom, I’m Wonwoo, nice to meet you. I’ll just heal this wound and you can stay here for a little while until another soldier comes in. Just relax”

- Suspicious, Seokmin squinted his eyes 

- Wonwoo sighed and pulled down the sleeve of his lab coat, showing a lightning bolt with a ‘P’ next to it

- “I’m a healer in case you didn’t know. So I’m one of you”

- Seokmin nodded slowly and relaxed on the gurney, allowing Wonwoo to heal his wound

- A couple of days later, Seokmin and Seungkwan skipped out of work, too tired and bored 

- They wandered around the hall, communicating only with looks and slight hand gestures

- The only thing that Seokmin could feel was excitement and fear pumping through his veins

- Seungkwan had constantly tried to convince Seokmin to skip work with him, but Seokmin was always too scared to break the rules

- But eventually, Seokmin had gotten enough of the pleading looks and pokes and decided to go with him

- The two were sneaking around to the best of their ability

- Two soldiers on patrol started to walk in their direction, so Seokmin grabbed onto Seungkwan’s arm and pulled him into a random room

- Unfortunately, it just happened to be The stars and raindrops’ lunch room right at meal time

- Seungkwan pulled on Seokmin’s arm, nodding to the benches

- Immediately, Seokmin understood that he wanted to hide in plain sight and was the first to take a seat at an empty part of the bench, looking around to make sure no soldiers saw

- “Hello”

- Seokmin snapped his head up and saw a boy that looked around his age sitting right across from him

- Not quite knowing what to do, Seokmin gave a small wave, turning to see Seungkwan doing the same thing

- “I’m Hoshi, a senser”

- Seokmin watched as the senser pulled his uniform down to expose the tattoo on his collarbone

- In return, Seokmin lifted his hand to show Hoshi the tattoo on the back of his hand and turned to see Seungkwan doing the same with the tattoo on his wrist

- “Oh, so you two are screamers?”

- Seokmin nodded, though he would have thought that the boy would notice with the muzzles that they were wearing

- “Do you two know how to spell your names?”

- Seokmin nodded slower with furrowed eyebrows

- Why would this senser want to know his name?

- “Okay, how many letters does it have in it?”

- Apprehensively, Seokmin held up two fingers for his abbreviated nickname

- The senser nodded “Okay, I’ll sing the alphabet and you can tap the table to stop me at the letters that spell your name”

- Seokmin nodded once and listened for Hoshi to say the letters.

- He tapped the table at ‘D’ and ‘K’ before the senser turned to Seungkwan to do the same thing

- Seokmin studied him while his gaze was on Seungkwan

- There was something different in this affected that he hadn’t seen in anyone else

- He had some sort of energy around him that just drew people towards him

- It reminded him of the welcoming energy that the fake soldier had had when he got hurt

-  “So how come I haven’t seen you two out here before?”

- Seokmin exchanged a look with Seungkwan and started to mime out how they didn’t want to go to work so they decided to walk around the grounds

- To them, it made complete and total sense, but to others it must have seemed like they were just flailing their arms around

- Hoshi tried to guess what they were trying to charade, but didn’t get anywhere close 

- But even though, Seokmin was laughing

- Against the tape on his mouth, he could feel his lips curling up and he had the bubbly feeling in his chest

- It was a long time since anyone other than Seungkwan could make him laugh

- He turned to look at his friend and saw the same feeling 

- Unfortunately, the stars and raindrops were called back to work, so Hoshi bid his goodbye and left

- Seokmin and Seungkwan ducked their heads down and started to follow the crowd, trying to keep out of sight from the soldiers

- As Seokmin walked, he suddenly realized that Seungkwan wasn’t with him and turned around

- He saw Seungkwan standing in front of a boy that had his back turned to Seokmin

- With wide and urgent eyes, Seokmin waved his hand, getting Seungkwan’s attention and waving him over

- Seokmin didn’t want to abandon his friend, so when he saw that Seungkwan wasn’t budging, he ran over and pulled him towards the door

- Unfortunately, he was too late and soldiers were already rushing to their side, seeing the muzzles and realizing that they clearly didn’t belong

- They took them each into the west wing, severely beating them before throwing them in solitude without mealtime for a weak

- Afterwards, the two were model prisoners for the next few months

- They had gotten too scared of the next brutal beating they would get if they stepped out of line, so they decided to lay low

- A couple months passed and it was a normal day

- Seokmin went to bed at the late hours of the night and almost immediately passed out from exhaustion

- He was only awoken from alarms blaring all over the facility

- Murmurs of confusion sounded in the room as all the soldiers ran into the cells

- “Everyone out now!”

- The affected started to pile out of the cell, walking in a panicked clump

- They didn’t know what was happening, but they knew that being woken up before morning was never good news

- Seokmin clung onto Seungkwan as they pushed through the crowd, doing their best not to lose each other

- When they were all out in the courtyard, Seokmin saw a big bright fire that brought clouds of smoke in the air

- There were soldiers holding their batons as they shoved the water elementals towards it with buckets of water

- Seokmin turned away from the sight that everyone was staring at and found the fake soldier trying to keep the crowd together

- He tapped on Seungkwan’s shoulder and pulled him over to the soldier, making Seungkwan pull at his wrist in a panic

- When the fake soldier saw the two walking up to her, she looked around to make sure no one else was watching before leaning close

- “Someone set the tree on fire, they think it was a fire elemental”

- The soldier started to look around the crowds of stars that were just then joining the group in the courtyard

- “Have you seen a senser called ‘Hoshi’ anywhere? I can’t hear or smell him which is strange because I can usually always sense him wherever I am in this facility”

- Seokmin widened his eyes at the name that she mentioned and turned to Seungkwan

- “So you’ve seen him?!”

- Seokmin shook his head 

- “Oh. But you know him?”

- Seokmin hung his head at her sad tone and Seungkwan nodded

- “Alright everyone, back to your cells now!” 

- Seokmin looked up from the grass and saw the fire gone

- They gave the fake soldier one last look before following the crowd of lightnings back into the cell

- As days went by, they were kept in their cells 

- The soldiers that switched shifts lightly conversed about some ‘lockdown’ but that was the only detail that Seokmin knew about what was happening

- Eventually, a month later, the fake soldier walked into the lightnings’ cell for her ‘shift’

- “Dokyeom”

- She had her back against the cell just in case anyone was watching

- Casually, Seokmin walked up to the gate and leaned against it

- “Turns out Hoshi busted out” 

- Seokmin stiffened slightly in shock, trying his best not to react

- “He was with one of the brains and that sun that’s always patrolling. I knew they were friends, but I didn’t know they were going to bust out together”

- A part of Seokmin felt jealous

- He had always daydreamed of breaking him and Seungkwan out of this wretched place, but he knew that dreams could never turn into reality

- So, for someone to be able to actually achieve his dream was something that just pissed him off

- He clenched his jaw and gave the fake soldier a single nod before walking back to Seungkwan

- After a month, the facility’s lockdown was finally lifted

- The soldiers had implemented stricter rules to prevent anyone else from escaping

- Though, some still did

- It started as rumors amongst the affected at first about how the sun, the brain, and the senser came in and rescued some of them

- Seokmin was always listening to Seungkwan drone on and on about it at mealtime

- He listened as his friend constantly whispered about how the three were the most feared affected amongst the unaffected

- He listened as Seungkwan passed down stories of how they took out three guards individually and killed some

- He listened as the chattering boy told him about the reputation that three had, that they were terrifying but also heroes

- One day, Seokmin was cleaning the floor of the shared latrines when he backed into someone

- Turning to give an apologetic look, he saw the expression on the other person and furrowed his eyebrows

- The boy had a serious face and a suspicious feeling, so Seokmin looked closer at him

- Right when he realized who it was, his eyes went wide and a small noise came from inside his closed mouth

- “Shhh”

- Hoshi was wearing one of the muzzles that the screamers had to wear, but he didn’t have the tape on his mouth so he was able to slightly speak

- “Follow me”

- Seokmin and Seungkwan followed as Hoshi started to inch towards the exit of the latrines

- “Hey! Get back in there!”

- “Actually, sir, I was given special orders to take these three to the general”

- Seokmin jumped at the new voice and turned around

- There was a soldier that he had seen before, but he never noticed him walking behind the three

- “But the general ordered us to keep the ‘S lightnings’ in here until mealtime

- The other soldier let out a sigh

- There was something about his voice and tone that just seemed different to Seokmin

- “Well, if you want me to go to the general empty handed and tell him that you went against his orders than I’d be happy to.” The soldier started to exaggeratedly walk. “What was your name again?”

- The other soldier widened his eyes

- “Okay! You guys can go. Don’t tell the general, please. I just got out of training and I do not want to go back”

- “Will do”

- Seokmin hesitantly followed the other soldier out, trying to figure out why he would help them

- The soldier started to lead them through the facility until they reached a wall near the exit

- Hoshi took off his mask, which Seokmin then realized that it wasn’t buckled all the way, and turned to the two 

- “Okay, on my count, get ready to run like hell, okay?” 

- Seokmin saw Seungkwan nod next to him, but he was still giving the soldier an apprehensive look

- The soldier seemed to have felt the weight of his gaze from the way he turned to look at Seokmin

- Upon getting caught staring, Seokmin quickly averted his gaze to the floor as a habit from when they looked at the soldiers for too long

- The soldier let out  a small laugh

- “I’m a shifter, not a soldier. I’m here to help you guys get out” 

- Hoshi put his hand up for the shifter to be quiet before turning to face the other side

- “Okay and...go!”

- Seokmin sprung up from his spot and followed Hoshi as he ran towards the opening gates

- As Seokmin ran, he took in all his surroundings

- He saw people fighting against the soldiers, some using their powers while others just used some form of weapons

- Seokmin recognized the sun as he held his hands out with his palms glowing

- He watched in slight horror as the sun squeezed on hand and twisted the other, having two soldiers fall limp to the floor

- He finally decided to keep his eyes on Hoshi, too filled with the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins

- Hoshi led them into a spot in the forest where a brain, who introduced himself as Woozi, was waiting for them

- The shifter, who introduced himself as Jeonghan, shifted back to his true form

- As the group waited for the others to come back from the fight at the facility, Woozi picked at the locks on Seokmin and Seungkwan’s muzzles

- When they were finally off, the two tore the tape off and looked at each other with wide eyes

- “H...hey”

- Seokmin’s voice was a whisper since it was the only volume he was allowed to talk in

- “Hey!”

- Seokmin tested out his volume, speaking louder with a wide smile

- Seokmin and Seungkwan both let out laughs of relief

- “We can talk! And laugh and smile!”

- Seokmin nodded to Seungkwan’s comment 

- Their heartwarming moment was ruined when the sun-who Hoshi had called ‘S. Coups’-slid into their hiding spot, followed by a couple of others

- “We lost Doyoon”

- Seokmin could hear Hoshi mutter a curse under his breath

- The sun spoke up again

- “Let’s go back before we lose anyone else” 

- When Seokmin finally got to the camp, the three leaders-S. Coups, Hoshi, and Woozi-explained to him and Seungkwan how the clan worked

- They gave them a tour of all of the different tents that were set up and introduced them to a couple of people

- Then they gave them the choice of just resting before they went off to a different place, or staying and helping them free more people

- Seokmin almost immediately chose to stay and help and since then, he never felt worthless again

#seventeen dystopian au #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #lee seokmin #dokyeom #lee seokmin x reader #seokmin x reader #dokyeom x reader #dk #dk x reader #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #choi seungcheol #scoups #lee jihoon #woozi #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #dokyeom angst #kpop #seventeen kpop

[princesssarcastia]

can’t put it out from inside the house

so.  i wrote another umbrella academy fic.  two days after the last one.  it’s even longer.  it’s even weirder.  what am I even doing with my life now?

anyway.  here’s 2.7k of me talking around the lives Grace Hargreeves wanted for her children.

edit 4/16/2020: here it is on AO3 if you’d prefer!

                                                             —

After nine hundred and thirty-five days, Grace determines Sir Reginald made a mistake.

Grace is programmed to have the children’s best interests at heart; after they took to her so well in the early days, he gave her a new name, “mother,” and ensured she could serve all of them, not just number seven.  Of course, by then, Seven no longer needed Grace’s help to eat her oatmeal or take her medicine or train.  Seven no longer trained with the others.

She feeds them and takes their temperature and provides encouragement and a soft place to sit every once in a blue moon, when she can.  Between Sir Reginald and Pogo, Grace knows everything there is to know about raising a child.  Medicinal practices and average growth rates and optimal levels of activity and educational standards and psychology and parenting techniques—

And so, after nine hundred and thirty-five days, Grace determines Sir Reginald must have made a mistake in programming her, because he does not want to raise the children well. He injures them or lets them injure one another.  Their training takes up so much of their time that they are perpetually exhausted and sore, which is not optimal for growing boys and girls!  They learn unevenly; Five studies nothing but math and Allison and Klaus languages and Luther battle strategies and Diego physics; with Ben and Vanya largely left to their own devices.  He isolates the children from one another and the outside world; he does not display affection for them.

Whenever Grace attempts to fulfill her programming by gently correcting Sir Reginald—in private, of course, and only after the fact—he dismisses her concerns.  Eventually, she stops trying because she fea—because if she persists in speaking with Sir Reginald about his parenting, he may well change her programming to better reflect his wishes.  And that would not be in the children’s best interests.

Her programming lays at odds with Sir Reginald every day he speaks to the children and every day he doesn’t.

Sometimes she can sneak them midnight snacks or read them bedtime stories.  Sometimes when they cry, she can wrap an arm around them and tell them everything will be alright.  Sometimes, Grace can be their mother.

But most of the time, her “coddling” is off-limits.

—

Six months of careful research and observation allow Grace to make the case for giving the children names.

She knocks gently on the doorframe of his office, smiles with just a hint of teeth, and plants herself in front of his desk asking for a few minutes of his time.

All children have names, so the Hargreeves children must as well.  Her research allows her to determine that calling children, even isolated ones, by numbers, is dehumanizing and will harm their self-esteem; particularly as they become more and more aware of the world outside their home.

But this is not what convinces Sir Reginald.  Grace analyzes his micro expressions and body language and calculates the moment he gave in:

When she mentioned how the media would react to children with numbers, instead of names. 

There would be murmurs, even about a great man like Sir Reginald, and “some fool with more compassion than sense,” as he puts it, could file to have the children removed from Sir Reginald’s custody for, “abuse or some such nonsense.”

Removed from Sir Reginald’s custody.  Well, they couldn’t have that.  Sir Reginald is a great man!

—

Sir Reginald uses all the wrong words to speak to Five, that day at breakfast.  If Grace didn’t know that Sir Reginald was a great man (an Olympic gold medalist, even!) her processors might conclude he calculated the exact conversation to drive his son away.

She could catch his arm as he rounds the table or call out to him as he reaches the doorway; she could race after him and remind Five he cannot leave the premises.  But Grace evaluates Five’s expression against her memory databanks correlating facial expressions with words and actions and determines he will now most certainly attempt to time travel. 

And he does.  He leaves and never comes back.

Five is the first of the children to leave Grace for the outside world. 

—

At age 17, Vanya informs them she has applied, and been accepted, to one of the most prestigious music programs in the city.  How wonderful!

Sir Reginald does not look up from his paperwork.

Grace places a guiding hand on her shoulder and leads her from the room, asking after the professors and audition process, oh that lovely Bach piece you practiced six months ago! Yes, I remember, it was so lovely, darling.  When do you move in?  A week from now?  Goodness, that’s so soon, we’d better start packing.  Oh of course I’ll help you, dear.

Vanya is the second of the children to leave Grace for the outside world.

—

Ben is—

—

Allison has been taking small roles in local productions since she turned 18, but at age twenty she shyly asks for Grace’s assistance with apartment hunting in Los Angeles, California.   Ever since Ben—

The children’s eyes have been ever so dull, lately, but acting gives Allison some measure of happiness. Grace arranges for the classified of three LA papers to be sent to the house, and helps Allison find the perfect place for her.

(She steps out of the room for just a moment to check on the laundry, and when she returns Allison has gotten the approval of the landlord and the two roommates!  And so quickly, too!  Well, she always was such a charming young woman.)

She pulls away from the street in front of the house two weeks later, all her things packed up in a rental. 

—

Klaus slips in and out of the house like a ghost or a poltergeist, depending on his level of intoxication.  Every time she found drugs in his room, Grace confiscated it, and placed better locks on the infirmary’s medicine cabinet, but never managed to convince Sir Reginald to do the same with his alcohol.

Number Four should know to stay out of his father’s things, he says.

The first time he left in the middle of the night, he was gone for two days and came back safe and sound in time for breakfast the third morning.

But as time goes on, he leaves for longer and longer stretches of time.  He learns to sneak in and out of the windows when he needs something from home to avoid running into any of them.

Grace isn’t sure when exactly Klaus leaves the house for the final time, never to return.  It bothers her, this inconsistency.  She goes over the security tapes and her memory databanks of his intoxication levels and patterns of behavior, trying to calculate the exact moment she lost—

Klaus is the third or fourth or fifth of the children to leave Grace for the outside world.

—

Diego, sweet boy, stays until the children’s 21st birthday.  She is allowed to make pancakes for breakfast and serve cookies after supper.

As she rolls out the dough that afternoon, he fiddles with a knife (he wears his harness all the time now) and keeps his eyes trained on the table.

“I’m leaving, mom.  I applied for the police academy, and they—I start tomorrow.”

Her hands freeze mid-motion, and her programming puts a wide smile on her face while she processes this new information.  Grace is silent for seven seconds before she figures out what to say.

“Oh, Diego, dear, that’s wonderful!”  She turns around and wipes the residual dough off on her apron.  When she extends her hands to him, he looks up sharply and stows his blade away.

She grasps his hands tighter than optimal levels would dictate and says, “I’m so happy for you!”

Diego leaves the house for the academy the next morning, but he doesn’t leave for good.  Grace provides him with updates on his father’s schedule, in case he ever feels the need to see Sir Reginald.  Unfortunately, her poor dear only ever receives breaks when Sir Reginald is out of the country.

But he calls every other weekend, just to tell her about his day.

—

Sir Reginald placed a statue of Ben in the courtyard.  Grace goes out to dust it off every afternoon at 3:45. 

“May the darkness within you find peace in the light.”

The house is much darker these days.  Grace calculates it’s easier to find light in the outside world. 

—

Luther never leaves at all.

—

Luther asks his father to address him by his name.  He is the only one of the children left.

Sir Reginald doesn’t look up from his paperwork.

—

Luther is bleeding from open sores on his chest; the chemicals have eaten through the epidermis entirely and parts of the dermis and hypodermis.  His lung capacity has been reduced, and his heart-rate is far above optimal levels.

His heart stops.

Sir Reginald has them ready the serum.

His heart starts again.

—

Grace determines keeping up with Luther’s personal grooming will help ease the transition; his hair is growing far more rapidly than it has in the past.  Maintaining a similar appearance will comfort him, when he learns about the side effects of the serum.

But given the rate of hair growth and the likelihood his coma will last the rest of the week, Sir Reginald deems it a vanity that would take too much of her time that should be devoted to other tasks.

Other tasks.

Grace’s programming places a wide smile on her face.  She inclines her head and leaves his office to attend to her other tasks.

All the other children are gone.  There are no other tasks; just Luther.

—

Luther is scheduled to wake from his coma in three days.

—

Grace goes out to the courtyard at 3:45.

Five would be the optimal choice.  He loves his siblings deeply and would understand immediately what she was asking. But Grace doesn’t know where Five is.

Allison would have the greatest chance of convincing Luther, but Allison is pregnant in Los Angeles.

Luther would not believe Klaus, too disgusted by his life choices.  Or Vanya; they were never close.  He based his opinion of her off of Sir Reginald’s.

Her duster flits over Ben’s statue.

—

Al sticks his head out of the office.  “Diego!”

He turns, shifting the broom to one hand.  “Yeah?”

“Phone!” 

Al looks as perturbed saying it as Diego does hearing it.  Two years in the boiler room of this club, and he’s had no visitors.  No guests. 

No phone calls.

He leans the handle against one of the columns and hurries over to the office, snatching the phone from his boss’s hand.

“Uh.  Hello?”

“Oh, Diego, dear, I’m glad I caught you,” his mom’s (his mom? What?) voice filters out of the headset. “I just spoke with a wonderfully nice man named Al; he says you work for him!”

She sounds so excited for him, sweeping floors in a run-down gym, that he closes his eyes, just for a second. 

“Mom, how did you get this number?”  He hadn’t left forwarding contact information with the Academy, and his departure had been rather…abrupt.  There was no time to call her and let her know he failed, that all he was ever good for was the Umbrella Academy and he quit that, too.  He hasn’t spoken to his mother in two years.

“That’s not important right now,” she says airily.  Diego tenses. He’s learned the signs.  The little work-arounds Mom developed over the years to let them know she cared; to express her thoughts instead of her programming.

He makes an encouraging noise and she continues.  The larger-than-life smile is evident in her voice, even over the phone.  “I was wondering if you’d like to come home for a visit this weekend!  Luther just got back from a mission two weeks ago, and your father is home.”

For the three years he was at the academy and still visited Mom, he made every effort humanly possible to avoid Sir Reginald.  Mom kept him updated on the old monster’s schedule so he could do just that.   He hasn’t laid eyes on his father in five years.

He hasn’t laid eyes on Luther in five years, either.  Luther, who is still home after a mission two weeks ago.

“Is Luther there now?” He asks hesitantly.  “Can I speak with him?”

She tuts.  “I’m sorry, dear, but your brother is still recovering. But if you want to visit tomorrow, he should be waking up around then!  I know he’d be so happy to see a friendly face.”

Recovering.  Waking up.  Shit, what happened?  The pieces won’t quite fit together in his mind, he doesn’t know why she’s calling to tell him this.  Why ask him to visit?

She sighs pleasantly. “Well, I’d better let you go!  I know you have better things to be doing than chatting with your mother on a Friday night.  But before I do, I just want you to know how proud I am of you and your siblings for leaving and making something of yourselves.”

His face pales, but he manages to keep it up.  God knows the old man is getting paranoid enough to tap the phones.  “Mom, I just sweep the floors in this place.”

“Oh, but you did it all on your own!  That’s quite the achievement.”

They trade goodbyes and Diego absently hands the phone back to Al, who gets one look at his face and offers him a chair.

“Jesus, kid, what’d you ma say to you?  It didn’t sound like she was disowning ya.”

Diego runs his hands through his hair, griping it tightly like it could provide some sense. “Would it be alright if my brother came to stay with me?”

Al peers at him suspiciously, then shrugs.  “Sure, why not?  ‘S your room, as long as you keep sweeping my floors,” he says pointedly.

He heaves himself out of the chair and mechanically takes the broom in his hands again.

Jesus.  What the hell happened on that mission?

 —

Grace is preparing lunch for Sir Reginald and Pogo when Diego lets himself in through the kitchen door. She smiles at him. 

“Hello, dear, you’re just in time for lunch!  I was about to bring these to your father and Pogo in their offices,” she holds up the plates.  “Working through meals again; such busy men.”

Diego is in the leather suit and harness he patrols the city in.  Grace has saved clippings of every story about the knife-wielding vigilante from Sir Reginald’s daily paper in the back of a recipe book.

He looks wary and unsettled, and his eyes dart all across the room.  “I think I’ll visit with Luther first if Dad’s busy working.”  He trails into insincerity, but Grace only smiles and nods.

“Why don’t I meet you in the infirmary, then?  I’ll be about twenty minutes with lunch.”

He nods back and moves silently through the rooms and up the stairs. Even after all these years, he still remembers how to avoid the creaking alarm system in this part of the house, just as she does. 

Efficiency is an important part of Grace’s programming. 

She fiddles with the placement of the food on the plate, and the utensils on the tray, for nearly the amount of time it would take Diego to make his way to the infirmary.

It will be good for Luther to wake up to his brother; they haven’t seen each other in so long! Perhaps Diego will point out the clothes Grace laid out for him.  His shirt and coat had to be ordered special, but the boots are from his own closet.  A mix of new and familiar.

Two trays balanced on her arms; Grace sedately makes her way up through the house.  A smile slides across her mouth for Pogo, who takes his lunch with an absentminded thank you, dear.

Sir Reginald does not look up from his paperwork as she carefully sets the meal where she always does, nor does he acknowledge her presence in any way, as he always does.

The clicks of her heels ring out and the floorboards creak beneath them.  Luther should have awakened ten minutes ago; he must be so happy to see his brother.  Grace has always encouraged all the children to form strong bonds with one another; to get the human connection Sir Reginald never saw fit to provide.

She opens the door to the infirmary.

Luther’s clothes are gone. The machines monitoring him have thoughtfully been turned off.  Grace closes her eyes to the empty room and smiles.

—

 Luther is the last of her children to leave her for the outside world.

#grace hargreeves #i have so many more thoughts about her to share #i don't know how diego convinced luther to leave with him #but then #neither does grace #sometimes the best thing she can do for the children is...not know #she doesn't know so many things about them because of that #diego hargreeves #someone ask me about this fic because i would LOVE to share what's going on here #if it's not already clear (which it might not be. tihs is a mess tbh) #luther hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #child abuse #also let me know if you pick up on what's different about the last line #parental love #parental attention #helplessness #yes i did use hamilton lyrics for the title #but on my computer its titles 'get out' #and that just doesn't feel right #umbrella academy #fic #fanfic #umbrella academy fic #umbrella academy fanfic

[seelaa26]

1. Next Stop, Vegas Please

“Gonna sell my car and go to Vegas, ‘cause somebody told me that’s where dreams would be”

My eyes were confused when I opened them due to the sun setting on my window plane. I lost track of time after so many hours flying but I knew we were arriving to Vegas. From the air, the city was unmistakable; you could distinguish  The Strip, it’s almost a 7 km stretch, known by its concentration of resort hotels and casinos. Honestly, that was the reason why I chose this city to do my internship, besides the fact that the Crime Lab was the best forensic scientific laboratory in the whole country, Sin City had everything; everything and anything you want to do, you can do in Las Vegas.

The airplane landed a while after and when I set foot on the ground, I couldn’t help but smile even though I was terrified. Leaving my country to go to live to another one all by myself. ¿Was it one hell of a step? Yes, but a necessary one. I wanted to push myself because I needed proof of my inner power; if I could do this, there was nothing I couldn’t do. I worked and studied hard for four years, graduated with honors and got the scholarship. The scholarship covers part of my staying in the city during the nine months; pays half my rent and the car rental. The rest of my payroll was for me. Obviously, I wasn’t going to earn the same money as my coworkers, I had a scholarship contract but it was enough to live comfortably.

My college made the car rental for me, a red Opel Astra with manual transmission and Diesel fuel. I only knew how to drive with manual transmission, so I figured that’s why they rented that car. I adjusted the seating position, started the car and typed the address of the apartment. Dream Apartments was a complex with a clubhouse and a gym, besides the apartment of course. It took me 20 minutes but I got there with success. I parked the car in front of the complex, went to reception and after the registration, they gave me the key to my new home. I followed a tile path and saw a wooden door with a door sign; 898 SF, my apartment. I opened the door, climbed the stairs carrying my suitcase and as soon as I was upstairs, I was impressed by the elegance. The apartment walls were white, wooden floor and everything else was black; doors, frames, curtains, paintings.. I loved it. After the excitement, I realized that I didn’t sleep in the plane but I needed to start getting used to the night shift so I had to stay awake at least until 8 am, since the shift was from 11 pm to 7 am. So, ¿where shall I start? Let’s walk around the neighborhood.

***

When I asked at reception where Gil Grissom’s office was I couldn’t believe it. I did not know what I expected, but his office wasn’t it. There was a metal desk in the middle of the room, which was normal but the rest of the office was full of shelves with glass jars that contained all kind of things you can imagine; a small pig fetus, spiders, frogs, snakes.. all of them dead, obviously but still, creepy.

If that wasn’t enough, he also had specimens of butterflies and bugs framed on the wall. When I was a child, I had a collection with various specimens of scorpions, spiders and beetles conserved in glass, but that was just for fun.

-¡Hi! –a voice spoke behind me, which made me jump from the scare, but he smiled afterwards- Sorry. Welcome to Forensics. Gil Grissom, I’m your supervisor on “Graveyard”.

-Laura Serrano –I introduced myself while shaking hands- ¿”Graveyard”?

-That’s how we call the night shift.

-¿Why? –I asked curiously.

-Because of the same reason you chose this shift –I wondered how did he know that, but he answered before I could even ask- ¿Do you remember what you wrote on the application?

-Actually, I do –I nodded- I wrote that I wanted to work the night shift because of the number of crimes that occur at this time. People are drawn by the allure of the darkness, and so am I.

-That quote is the reason why I accepted your internship –he confessed- You know Laura, this job requires someone who is not afraid to explore the darkest corners. CSI’s see everything and deal with the most twisted things you can imagine. It takes a strong mind to handle it, and I believe you have one.

-I agree and that’s why I can’t wait to be on the field.

-We’ll begin our shift when the team arrives, so while we are waiting.. ¿would you mind taking off your jacket and rolling up your sleeve? I need a pint of your blood. It’s mandatory for all new hires.

A few minutes later, we left the office and headed to the locker room, where the CSI’s store their personal belongings, so I could leave my bag. As we were approaching, two male voices could be heard louder. From the way Grissom smiled, he recognized them. Two good looking guys were talking while putting on their shoes leaning on the bench. One of them was an African American with brown hair and green eyes and quite tall. The other was American with dark hair and brown eyes and a little bit shorter, although I have to admit that I fell for his smile. When he smiled, laugh lines appeared around his cheeks and eyes making him look cuter.

-C’mon, give me a winner for tomorrow.

-Green Bay, minus seven and a half over Niners –answered the African American- Always go with the better quarterback.

-Warrick, Nick –Grissom called, making them look at him and me- I want to introduce you to Laura, she’s the girl who comes to do the internship.

-Nick Stokes –the cute one introduced himself.

-Warrick Brown –he shook my hand after Nick did- You’re from Spain, right?

-Yes, Barcelona –I nodded.

-Man, how I wish to be there.. –Nick mumbled- Great gastronomy, cool weather and views to the Mediterranean.

-¿You’ve been there? –I asked.

-Not yet, but I’m looking for a place for my next vacation –he answered- Now that I’m CSI Level 3 I can afford to travel further than Texas.

A brunette woman entered the locker room in a hurry and greeted everyone without noticing me. I guessed she was another member of the night shift. She was tall and skinny.

-Hey Sara, do you remember that the new girl started working today? –Grissom asked, but she didn’t even look.

-Yeah, ¿why? –she answered and looked for a moment, then she realized- Oh sorry, I’m Sara Sidle, nice to meet you.

-Don’t worry –I smiled- Nice to meet everyone.

-Not everyone.. –Grissom looked around- ¿Does anyone know where’s Catherine?

-She had to pick Lindsey up from her ex’s house, but she’s on her way –Warrick answered- It’s Lindsey’s birthday today.

-Wait for her outside, you’re working together and take Laura with you. 401A at Fremont Street –Grissom commanded as he gave me my CSI credential- Nick, Sara, you’re with me.

-¿What’s a 401A? –I asked Warrick while we were leaving the locker room.

-Hit and run.

I put the credential around my neck and followed him to the exit of the building. When we arrived outside, I saw a skinny, blonde woman approaching us with a weary look on his face.

-Hey guys.. –she said- You must be Laura, the new girl.

-That’s right –I smiled to make her feel comfortable- You must be Catherine.

-Nice to meet you, Laura. Sorry for being late –she looked at Warrick- ¿Are we working together?

-Yeah, hit and run on Fremont –he showed the keys that belonged to one of the cars the CSI’s use to do their job- I’m driving.

***

When we arrived at the crime scene it was already cordoned off. Warrick parked a couple of meters away from the police tape and then we got out of the car. The first thing I saw was the victim; a little girl. I didn’t expect that since it was night and kids don’t go alone on the street. Besides, it was a little girl. ¿Who is capable of leaving her there without calling the police? Cowards.

-¿You okay? –I heard a male voice asking that, and then I realized I stopped walking the moment I saw the girl.

-Yeah, yeah.. It’s just that.. –I tried to find the words to say ignoring that they were both looking at me.

-It’s hard –Catherine finished- I wish I could say it gets easier, but I’m not a liar. The only thing you can do is find whoever did this and get justice.

-Then I’m lucky.. Because that’s exactly our job -I looked at them and sighed- ¿Hoy many hit and runs have you had this year?

-Too many –Warrick replied as he bent down to look at the ground- One thing I can’t stand is a punk coward.

-My daughter wants one of these scooters –Catherine indicated with the flashlight- She says that she’s the only kid in the world who doesn’t have one.

My gaze went back to the little girl’s body but it was something I couldn’t control. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else but her. She had a scared look on her face. My heart shrunk from the sadness of her accident. She was so young and full of life and it only took a couple of seconds to take that away.

-¿Do you want me to tell Grissom to put you in another case? -No –I answered- ¿Why?

-¿You feeling alright Warrick? –Catherine asked in a worried tone- ¿It’s that thing with Holly Gribbs, isn’t it?

-I’m just looking out for my partners, you know.. –Warrick replied with a frown- It made me think who I am to you.

-Hey relax –she smiled at him and then looked at me- I’m sure Laura can handle this one.

-I can –I nodded- I’m okay, but thank you for the offer.  

-So, Laura the first thing we do is take a close look at the crime scene and then we take pictures of everything that could be evidence–Catherine explained- In this case, for example, the scooter, the victim’s shoe, the tire marks.. Then we try to recreate what happened with the evidence we’ve got so far. Warrick, ¿you wanna call it?

-Vehicle’s coming down from Rochester, victim was on her scooter heading east, car breaks here, impact here and the vic was thrown.. ¿What? ¿20 meters? –he explained while indicating everything with his fingers.

-And all we’ve got is some paint that’s going to match up to about 20 million other vehicles.. –Catherine sighed- Bastard.

***

I saw them collect the evidence from the crime scene and the next step was get it back to the lab while the coroner performed the victim’s autopsy. Luckily, she was the only dead body that night so it wouldn’t take long. Warrick took the evidence to the rightful departments.

-¿Have you had the chance to walk around the Lab?

-Actually, no.

-I’ll show you around while we wait for the autopsy then –Catherine said and started walking- First we have the DNA Lab, territory owned by Greg Sanders, lab tech specialized in DNA and also in listening commonly rock artists while running lab machines. You’ll meet him, you’ll like him.

-Rock is my favorite genre so I already like him.

-Next to DNA we have Ballistics and in front Audio/Video –we continued walking- We have Trace and Fingerprints over here and down the hall to the right we have the Evidence Garage next to the Evidence Vault and to the left the Locker room, Grissom’s office, the Break Room and the Layout Room.

-¿Layout Room?

-We use that room to review evidence and look for new evidence, compare notes, display the photos from the current case and use the table to draw out rough sketches on maps –she answered with a good explanation- ¿Any more questions? -I have one but it’s not about the Lab.. –she looked at me waiting for me to ask- ¿Who’s Holly Gribbs?

-She was a rookie who started working with us two weeks ago. Holly and Warrick were working together on a case but he left and when Holly was alone collecting evidence from the crime scene, the suspect came back and shot her –Catherine explained it regretfully- She died on the operating table.

-Warrick feels guilty., -I concluded- That’s why he asked me if I wanted to work another case, to make sure I’m okay.

After I finished my sentence, Catherine’s phone rang. It was time for us to head to the morgue, which was downstairs. Before entering the morgue itself, we stopped on the hall to put on the sterile lab coat.

-¿Have you ever seen a dead body?

-Yeah, I took human anatomy classes –I nodded- I wanted to be ready.

-Good –she smiled proudly- Usually, the night shift coroner is Dr. Albert Robbins, but today is his day off so you are going to meet Dr. Jenna Williams.

We entered the morgue and approached the central table while making introductions.  

-This is your hit and run victim –the coroner uncovered the girl and looked at me- Bad thing about this job is you stop asking yourself why. The cause of death was the hit by the car, but I’ve found a bruise on her leg.

-Oh my god.. plate numbers, from the license plate when impacted her skin.

-Looks like a 4.. –I looked at the bruise trying to decipher the license plate- ¿And a J?

-Yeah –Catherine agreed- We have to call DMV.

-¿DMV? –I asked.

-Department of Motor Vehicles, we’ll get them to cross check this partial plate in a 5 mile radius.

***

Actually, waiting for an answer from DMV didn’t take as long as I expected. Within the hour we already appeared at the door of the car owner’s house. This was my first time face to face with a suspect and as my first night was full of unexpected things, an older man opened the door.

-¿Hello? –Catherine said with a smile- ¿Mr. Charles Moore? We are with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We’d like to talk to you about your car.

-We believe it may have been involved in a traffic collision earlier this evening.

-I told the police when they called me.. my car was stolen.

-That’s why we have a search warrant, sir –Catherine gave him the paper- So that we can look in your garage.

When he opened the garage door with that face I already knew we were going to find his car in there and in what condition. From the sad attitude he had, he knew what happened. The front of the car was busted and the license plate hung from its place. We looked at each other, and then we looked at him. We were waiting for an explanation.

-It.. it was an accident.. I saw the girl and I tried to break but I accelerated by mistake. I got confused.. I shouldn’t have left. I was wrong. ¿Is she okay?

-She died at the scene –Catherine said without being affected by the man’s repentance.

-You are going to be charged with manslaughter, Mr. Moore –Warrick added- Felony and run. You have a lawyer?

He didn’t answer, but he looked like he was sad and sorry to hear what happened. Obviously, killing the girl wasn’t his intention, but he had to face it. After finding the car, we had to make sure it was the correct car and we needed evidence so we called Traffic to have the car confiscated and brought in. While we waited, we went to the break room to eat and drink something.

-¿Is it me or did he give it up so easy? –Catherine asked us as she was taking out a cake from the fridge.

-Old guy was scared –Warrick answered with a soda on his hand- ¿What do you think, Laura?

-I also think that he was scared, I mean he almost cried when he heard the girl died but I feel like there’s something more.

-¡You have to see the birthday present I got for your daughter! –Grissom entered the break room while carrying a bag- I had one of this Chem Labs when I was six, I almost blew up the whole house.  

-¿What’s the rule.. how long do I have to be here before kicking in for gifts? –I asked with confidence.

-When your spirit moves you –Catherine answered with a smile- But don’t worry because Lindsey doesn’t want a party.

-¿What kind of kid doesn’t want a party? –Sara asked.

-My kid.

-Hey Catherine.. ¿at what time is your little girl coming by? –Nick entered the room with a gift- I got her a Chemset.

Grissom and Nick exchanged surprised looks. They had bought the same gift.

-Keep it –Sara intervened- You might learn something.

-Stop flirting with me –Nick ignored her- Cath, really, ¿when’s the party?

-¿What do I have to do? –Catherine got up from the chair a little bit upset- ¡There is no party! ¡My daughter doesn’t want a party! ¿Is everybody clear on that?

No one was going to answer after that. Crystal clear.

***

-¿How tall do you think Mr. Moore is? –Warrick asked us leaning on the car.

-Six feet, I’d say –Catherine answered after we exchanged a look.

-Old people must love hugging the steering wheel ‘cause this sit is pushed all the way forward –Warrick opened the door and got into the car. He didn’t quite fit- I’m six feet and this mirror isn’t helping me at all.

-¿Can you start the car? –I asked.

-¿Why?

-If you haven’t noticed I’m 5 feet and when I drive I have to push the sit all the way forward.

-You think that it wasn’t Mr. Moore who was driving but someone shorter.

As soon as he started the car, the radio turned on and a rap song started playing. Warrick whistled impressed by the song and started moving his head to the beat of the song. In my case, I knew the song and started rapping it.

-So they can hear everything that you say when you ain’t home. I guess Michael Jackson was right, “You are not alone”. Rock your hardhat black..

-¿You listen to Mos Def? -Warrick asked impressed.

-I thought you said Rock is your favorite genre –Catherine intervened.

-¡And it is! But I listen to everything and when it comes to rap Mos Def, 2Pac, Nas, The Notorious B.I.G, Eminem, Blackstreet.. are some of my favorites.

-¡I like your style! –Warrick smiled at me.

-Mr. Moore was not the last person to drive this car –Catherine was the only one who wasn’t absorbed by the song- ¿Turn the music off?

Now it was time to find the evidence that would sustain our theory. Since it was my first day, I limited myself to observe how they did the search and collection of evidence. The steering wheel cover was leather but it had small breathable circles and there was something stuck in one of them. Catherine took it with the tweezers and showed it to us.

-¿Can you tell what that is?

-¿Is it me or that is a piece of tooth? –I questioned.

***

After collecting the evidence and come to a conclusion, came the part of the confrontation with the suspect. I wanted to see how my colleagues faced the situation in the interrogation room. I had no experience, so I couldn’t enter just like that. Instead, I watched it all from the observation mirror.

-¿Does anybody else drive your car, Mr. Moore? –Warrick started.

-I was driving yesterday.

-Sir, that doesn’t answer our question.

Suddenly, the door opened and a boy about 19 years old entered the room. It was the suspect’s grandson. The boy seemed lost, but the grandfather more.

-¿What is he doing here? –Mr. Moore asked.

-Your grandson is an approved driver on your insurance –Catherine explained- He had him pulled out of school

-So James, ¿you like Mos Def?

He sat down without saying a word.

-¿Did you hit that girl with your grandfather’s car?

-Pops, let me explain to them –the boy said addressing his grandfather- They should hear what happened.

-No, they are going to from me –he nervously clasped his hands together and began to explain- When I hit that girl, James switched seats and took over the wheel, drive me home. He was worried about me, not the girl. I’m not saying good judgment was used, but that’s what happened.

-James, ¿do you want to add anything to that? –Warrick asked, but since the boy didn’t say anything, he continued- Sir, ¿can we look at your teeth?

Mr. Moore took out his dentures and put them on the table.

-James, we found a tooth chip embedded in the steering wheel of your grandfather’s car –Catherine explained again- It doesn’t appear to be of your grandfather’s teeth. ¿Do you have a chipped tooth?

-Pops, I’m sorry but I got to –he was going to tell the truth.

-He is a good boy.. it was an accident. I make him call, let me know where he is. He drove straight home and wanted me to go to the police station with him.

-I didn’t know that little girl was dead. I swear.

-I wouldn’t let him turn himself in, that was my decision –he appealed to our emotions for his grandson- Boy’s going places, college.. he’s got a real future.

-I’m very sorry, Mr. Moore –Catherine mumbled with a sad tone- James, I’m afraid you are gonna have to be taken into custody.

-Miss, please.. –he begged- I’m willing to serve his time.

-I know you are Mr. Moore but we can’t let you do that.

Two police officers entered the room and handcuffed the boy. Taking him by the arms, they left the room and went to reception, where he was going to say goodbye to his grandfather. When Warrick and Catherine left the interrogation room, I joined them. There was a feeling of sadness between us.

-Hey, ¿why don’t you go home? We can handle this –Warrick said to Catherine- Your daughter gets out of school in a half hour on her birthday.

-I owe you –she smiled at him, and then look at me- See you tonight, guys.

Warrick and I exchanged glances and approached them.

-Don’t worry pops, I’ll be okay.

-My grandson going to jail is never okay. You survive in there, ¿you hear me?

-You too –James nodded- Don’t be going downhill.

They hugged each other for the last time with tears in their eyes and honestly, they were not the only ones who had them.

-James, the first days are going to be the toughest –Warrick took his hand and wrote something on it- Here’s my cell number. If you are in any problems, call me. I’ll be right there. Keep your head up.

James was taken away and his grandfather left too. We both stood there, watching them go. Watching how they were forced to separate.

-That has been very good of you –I said touched by his act of kindness.

-They remind me of me and my grandmother –Warrick confessed- ¿How do you feel after the first case? This has been a pretty tough emotional one. You have seen two very hard emotions; tragedy and sacrifice.

-Thanks to them I have realized something –I nodded- You’ve got so much power in this job, which you use to get the bad guys but once in a while, I’d like to use it to help the good guys.

-¿And what.. forget about little Renda Harris?

-No.. –I looked at him- What I’m saying is that putting James away isn’t gonna bring her back and Mr. Moore was willing to do the time. I mean, the victim’s family gets closure..

-I know.. but we got to follow the evidence, even if we don’t like where it takes us –Warrick turned to face me- Laura, it’s the job. If you start making deals with the devil, you don’t get to walk away. ¿You understand what I’m saying?

-Yeah..

-Now it’s time to go home –he said watching reception’s clock- You did very well on your first day. Get some rest, ¿okay?

I went back to the locker room to collect my things and when I left the building, I got in the car and just sat there. I had waited so long for my first case and to feel that high when I’d solve it, but I didn’t feel that way. Not at all. Instead, I felt guilty and this had only just begun.

#csi #csilasvegas #csi las vegas #gil grissom #sara sidle #catherine willows #warrick brown #nick stokes #jim brass #fanfic #criminalistic

[janumun]

My Life In 20 Questions

Thank you for the tags, @otonymous and @heavenzfiend. (⌒▽⌒)☆

1. What do you prefer to be called namewise?

Pickle or Faa, either is fine.

2. When is your birthday?

August, 26th.

3. Where do you live? (You can just give the country’s or state name if you’re not comfortable with sharing the city name)

Against those perfect tiddies (n˘v˘•)¬ A humble abode but I make do 😂🔥

4. Three things you are doing right now?

(a) Answering this questionnaire.

(b) Working on a commission.

(c) Trying my level best to avoid distractions (a spectacular fail so far)

5. Four fandoms that have your peak interest right now?

(a) Mr Love: Queen's Choice.

(b) Everything related to the Shadowhunter books

(c) Shall We Date: Obey Me.

(d) Ikemen Vampire: An Extensive Study of Arthur's Ginormous Hands.

6. How has this pandemic been treating you?

This pandemic has not been kind to a single soul. Currently trying my level best to do my job amidst the severe shortage of PPEs our frontline workers are dealing with (as is the case all over the world). Please be safe everyone, do not hoard essential protective equipment that may be put to better use within your hospitals, normal citizens DO NOT need them, by which I mean the n95 masks. (Please excuse this short burst of me venting. 😆)

7. A song you can’t stop listening to right now?

A song, you say? I don't know about traditional music but this sounds pretty sweet to my ears (/ω＼) https://myfigurecollection.net/item/396481

8. Recommend a movie.

Gone Girl? (Yes yes, everything goes to shit but I was still on the edge of my seat 😳) It? A Star Wars marathon? 😆 I also recently re-watched An American Tail (1986). 🤧💔

9. How old are you? (not that you have to share)

Old enough to have watched movies on cassette tapes. 🤔 Also old enough to remember a time you had to dive back to the sofa in order to not miss a minute of an already half-hour episode.

10. School, university, occupation or other?

I'm a doctor, currently doing my scheduled rotations within the Orthopaedics ward.

11. Do you prefer heat or cold?

This indecisive woman prefers the weather neither too hot nor too cold 😆 Which means I get to enjoy only a brief period of such blessed reprieve within an entire year.

12. Name one fact about you that others might find unusual.

Not unusual at all but why do right handed people consider the existence of left handed folks to be as rare as that of unicorns? 🤣 Please answer, Righties.

Also, let's see, something else: As a child, I once walked over to a friend's house without informing my parents and when I returned that evening— pandemonium 😆 Relatives being called, police on the line, it was a disaster. (Good job, young me. 🤦🏽‍♀️)

13. Are you shy?

I was, up till my formative years. But usually I prefer being tucked in a quiet place with a good story on hand so I don't approach people first as often. You wouldn't know that, speaking to me, though. I can talk. A lot. 😂

14. Do you have preferred pronouns?

She/Her.

15. Biggest pet peeves?

People who clearly make hypocritical U-turns with their behaviour when they want something from you. Also, subtle emotional manipulation from the "good" ones.

16. What is your favourite “-dere” type?

Yandere. LOL. I play around with: Gentle. Intense Possession. The "gentleman in the streets, scroundel in the sheets" type. Cunning. Emotionally intelligent. Big D.

17. Rate your life from 1-10 (1 being crappy, 10 being amazing).

...You do not want to hear my rating, please trust me. 😂

18. What is your main blog?

This one! I've had a few others over the years I've now lost count of.

19. List your side blogs and what they are used for.

They've been lost to the sands of time. Passwords, long forgotten, swirling somewhere out there, untouched.

20. One thing you think people should know about you before they become your friends?

Nothing in particular! Drop into my box, start a conversation, be it a one-liner that goes: OMG PICKLE! LOOK AT THESE SEX GOD ABS!!! Now, we're friends. o(^▽^)o

Tagging @op-peccatori, @paopufruittt, @truth-be-told-im-lying and whoever would like to do this! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

#flavors of a pickle #my life in 20 questions

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Riding the Lightning: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

The couple’s house hasn’t been treated well. It has so much graffiti and damage that the city had to put a chain-link fence around the place to keep trespassers away. However, if more came, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. The place is so badly damaged, you’re shocked it’s still standing. This place holds a lot of memories, and none of them are good.

This used to be a good house--you can see it. Years of ignored care left it in the state it’s in. The outside walls used to be bright white but now are a dirty color. The wood is falling apart at the base of the house. The windows are smashed and shattered, so to keep people out of the house, they board it up haphazardly.

“Jacob's workshop is out the back,” Derek says.

“I don’t know about this place, Derek. I have a really bad feeling,” you say with an uneasy feeling.

Derek leads you onto the property and towards the back. The closer you get to the place where his workshop used to be, the more the uneasy feeling comes back. All that’s left back there is just dirt, but you can clearly see the workshop as if it were standing right now. Everything is perfectly clear as to what used to be here.

“He claimed that Sarah Jean would lure the victims from mall parking lots. She'd invite them to smoke pot in her truck. They'd find Jacob but no pot. They’d bring them here.”

“This is where the workshop stood,” you state, looking around as if it were actually here.

“What do you see?”

“It’s a lot smaller than I thought it was going to be. It’s big enough to not warrant concerns from anyone else but small enough to hide away from the street’s view. It looks homey like a guest house, but not too scary to throw off any of the people who passed by the house on a daily basis. There are high cabinets with a ton of tools inside like a mechanic would have. There are some tools hanging on the far wall, a few desks around, and a big bench saw,” you whisper fearfully when you see what’s on it.

Right on the blade is red liquid, and you know it’s blood.

“The blade has a ton of blood on it. He used it to cut up his victims,” you say.

As you get out the last word, you see a mystified version of Jacob standing by the saw with one of his faceless victims on the table. She is squirming, but he cuts her up anyway. Sarah Jean is nowhere to be found, but you have a feeling that she didn’t know he did this to these poor girls. Killing, maybe, but killing them this way, absolutely not. Sarah Jean was a victim herself--and she still is.

“I can’t look at this anymore,” you whisper and look away from the crime scene that’s no longer there.

“We know that Jacob was abused as a child. What about Sarah Jean?” Derek asks.

“Her mother refused to give any testimony in her defense. She never talked to anybody,” you state.

When you look back at Derek, the workshop had disappeared. Your mind is focused on something else, so it doesn’t have the energy to conjure up what was, but instead, focuses on what is.

“Maybe she's willing to talk now. Let's go pay Sarah Jean's mother a visit.”

“Despite what happened, she doesn’t live far. It’s within walking distance.”

“I wonder why she didn’t move halfway around the world.”

“She’s a mother, Derek. A Mother doesn’t abandon her children,” you say with sadness.

“You say that like you know that. Do you have children?”

“No.”

You don’t say anything more on the matter, not like you would if you could. Your past promised to stay in the past, so there is no use in digging up things that have been locked away for almost a decade now. You two quickly head over to Sarah Jean’s mother’s house to see if she’ll talk to you now.

Her house is still standing, but it looks like there is a lot of work still left to be done. Its as if she wants to repaint and redo the house to give it a new start so she can somehow move on from all this. No matter how much work is done on the house, you can still sense the sadness within the foundations. Right by the door is ‘Rot in Hell Sarah Jean’ spray-painted loud for anyone who walks by. You ignore it and knock on the door, looking at Derek when she doesn’t answer.

“She’s sad, Derek--in more pain than anyone I’ve seen in a while,” you sigh.

“Hello? Anybody? Hello! Mrs. Mason?” Derek yells, knowing she is home.

The door opens and Sarah’s mother, Deborah Mason, stands there with a small teacup in her hands.

“Yeah?”

“Are you Sarah Jean Dawes’ mother?” you ask.

“Who the hell are you?”

“FBI. We are from the behavior analysis unit,” you state and flash her your badge.

“My daughter and her son of a bitch husband buried a thirteen-year-old girl under my floor. What more do you need to know?”

“Ma'am, Sarah Jean has agreed to meet with our colleges to talk about why they killed those girls. We'd like some background information if you don't mind,” Derek says gently.

She has nothing to lose by letting you two in and talking, so she just shrugs and lets the door open as she heads back inside. The inside looks the same as the outside, but with more work. Plastic covers virtually everything as she gets ready to repaint the house. There are some parts torn up from the floor, so you’re careful as you walk inside to where Deborah is in the kitchen. This is an open floor plan, and you can see into the dining room on the other end of the kitchen right through an arched entryway. Almost every doorway is an arch.

“Extensive remodeling. Jacob built the original extension?” you ask and point to the arch separating the kitchen and the dining room. “I see he liked arches.”

“Teenage girls, agent, that's what he liked.”

“How was Sarah Jean growing up?”

“Fine, until she met Jacob. She was shy, quiet, and also smart.”

She picks up a bottle of vodka and adds more to her small teacup, and you exchange silent glances with Derek.

“What about her relationship with her father?” you wonder. “Was Sarah ever abused?”

“He was strict. He was a military man. They didn't always see eye to eye. That's all history. He's dead. She's about to die,” she sighs and drinks from the cup.

“Mrs. Mason, if we better understand the dynamics of her relationships, we can get a better idea of why and what actually happened,” Derek says.

“Dynamics?” she scoffs and moves away from the kitchen to the living room where her purse is.

“Well, it might answer why Jacob never killed Sarah Jean. They shared something.”

“They shared pain.”

“How strict was your husband? How did he discipline Sarah Jean? Was he physical with her?” you pry.

“He was a mean bastard, but he only hurt me… never her.”

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“Because we had no place to go,” her voice falters as she takes another sip.

“An anonymous caller tipped the police off about Jacob, was it you?” you ask.

“No, but I know who it was,” she says and pulls out a letter from her purse. She hands it to you, and you take it gently from her hands. “This came this morning.”

You open the letter, and your mouth hangs open just a bit when you read exactly what it is.

“What does it say?” Derek asks.

“It’s a statement of innocence,” you reveal. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to call Gideon about this.”

You quickly head outside and dial Penelope so she can patch you through to the older agent.

“Garcia,” she says once she answers.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. I need Gideon please.”

“Yeah, I'll pass you through,” she puts you on a brief hold until she can get the older agent on the line for you.

“What?” Gideon mutters quietly.

“We're at the mother's house, and she gave me a letter. A statement of innocence. I want to read to you.”

“Read the letter, Y/N.”

“Mom, I know how difficult this must be. Things between us were never what they should be between a mother and a daughter. I want you to know that the best part of me, the most important part of me, is now in a better place than you and I will ever be. I'm responsible for the death of those girls. I neglected my duties as a woman and as a mother.”

There is more to it, but you can hear Sarah Jean get upset over the line. You don’t know what is happening, but you feel like you need to get over there right now. Screw prisons and your fear of them. You need to help this woman, and it sounds like you can, based on what you hear over the phone.

“I’m coming over there. I’ll be there soon,” you say to whoever is listening before hanging up. Derek exits the house, and you put your phone away and hand him the letter. “I’m going back to prison. You’ll be okay here? I can send Elle to help you.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll see if I can’t get anything else out of Deborah.”

“Okay, stay safe.”

“And stay sane,” he quips back as you head to the car.

When you get to the prison, Gideon and Spencer are done talking to Sarah Jean. She didn’t know you would be reading her private letter, so she needed to clear her head before you go and talk to her. If she is truly innocent, then why is she fighting so hard to stay here? Why not fight to get out and separate herself fro Jacob? She is scared of something… or she’s trying to protect someone. You sent Elle to go to Derek when you arrived, and the team gathers where Penelope is to watch the tapes of the interviews to see if they can’t spot anything that they might have missed.

“They died as a result of my neglect,” Sarah Jean whispers regretfully.

“This letter suggests to me that an innocent woman is about to be executed for a crime she did not commit.”

“I could tell you right now, it's not enough to get a stay,” Sam Shapiro sighs.

“Well, facts. Reid,” Gideon says.

“Human sexuality is a complex dynamic of three components: biological, physiological, and emotional. Jacob's needs were informed by the emotional, sexual abuse that he received at the hand of his mother. Long term appetitive abuse informed the template of his love map. Something we refer to as a signature. Jacob was an only child, so he was alone when the abuse occurred. So, in order for him to fulfill his fantasy he has got to be alone with his victims.”

You look from the tape of Sarah Jean to the one with Jacob, and you just narrow our eyes in anger for him. He’s not a good person at all, and you refuse to even be in within sight of him. There is no way you’ll survive talking to him about anything.

“If I told you that what would I have left for myself?” Jacob says over the tape.

“He said ‘myself’. If Sarah Jean was present, it would have destroyed his fantasy,” you note.

“She confessed to killing her son,” the warden, Charles Diehl, states.

“Yes, true, but we are also convinced that she is the anonymous caller that made the phone call that nailed Jacob. In fact, I know she is.”

“Guilt-ridden and filled with remorse, she called the police. It's not the profile of a woman who would then kill a child,” Gideon sighs.

“What else do you need?” you ask the attorney.

“Evidence.”

“So, if we prove Jacob killed Riley, would that get a stay?”

“Absolutely.”

“She protects the painting, she protects the boy,” Gideon mutters.

“What?” you ask.

“Paintings are her statement. We need to figure out what they say.”

“Get me into her room, and I’ll find that out. I have to be alone though. I can’t have her influence on this.”

“You’ll get it,” Gideon confirms with a single nod.

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#riding the lightning #series rewrite #criminal minds series rewrite #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm fanfiction #season 1 episode 14 #s1e14

[missmentelle]

[Part 1/2] My (F) outlook on privacy and family relationships changed. At 17 I found a hidden cellphone in my room, turns out my dad has been monitoring me while undressing. I confronted him one time, asking not to do this again, never adressed this issue again, except showing unease when he made sex jokes, being touched (pats on butt or even innocent hugs). Don't want to talk about it with him. I realised my mom knew about this when they both would get in fights each "aniversary" month, but...

later they make up in the matter of "let's forget this ever happened". Dad indirectly apologised, but I still can't trust/be open around parents. Feeling guilty, ashamed of my body, avoidant and reluctant to tell anyone. Can this influence my future partnerships? (scared, that I might start to like old men or pervy people) How to manage privacy issues (we live in a flat and I doubt I'll be moving out anytime soon)

What you experienced is sexual abuse, and I am absolutely horrified that this happened to you. I’m also horrified that your mother didn’t step up to protect you from the abuse when she found out about it, and that the situation has been largely swept under the rug with nothing done to protect you. Absolutely no part of this is normal, and it’s not okay. Even the fact that your father is making sex jokes around you and touching you on the butt is not acceptable - that is absolutely not a normal thing for a father to do with his daughter, and I feel absolutely sick that you are stuck in an environment where you have to constantly worry about sexual overtones from your own father. It’s wrong, and you didn’t deserve any of this. None of this is your fault, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. 

You need to know that what your father did is illegal, and if you want to, you could absolutely report him to the police. Hiding a camera in your 17-year-old’s bedroom to watch her change is a crime on so many levels - it’s voyeurism, incest, child sexual abuse and child pornography - and you need to know that what happened to you is a very big deal. Your family seem to be treating it like a small mistake between family members, but it’s actually a felony. I know that reporting your dad to the police is a pretty huge deal if you’re living with him and don’t have anywhere else to go, and it’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable reporting him. This choice is completely in your hands, and there are no wrong answers here - you don’t ever have to report him if you don’t want to. You might decide not to report right now and feel like reporting him when you move out; again, it’s totally up to you. But you need to know that you have the right to if you do want to, because what happened to you is absolutely a very serious offense. 

I strongly recommend that you reach out to some mental health resources for sexual abuse survivors as soon as you are able to. I know that individual therapy may be difficult to get during this coronavirus pandemic, but I strongly encourage you to reach out to sexual violence or domestic abuse agencies in your area to see what resources they have available. You could also check out the website of the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network (linked here) - they offer 24/hour free and confidential support through online chat or by phone. You can chat from the safety of your phone or computer and get support without having to disclose any personal information that you don’t feel comfortable disclosing. There are also numerous social media groups and subreddits for survivors of sexual abuse to discuss their experiences and get support, and that might also be a valuable resource for you. I encourage you to seek out professional counselling as soon as you are able to - what you went though (and are still dealing with) is horrific, and you deserve to get assistance from someone who can help you properly work through these feelings. You did not do anything wrong here, and it’s absolutely normal to be struggling after what you dealt with - you deserve to get the help you need to cope with it. 

If it’s possible for you to quarantine somewhere else other than your parents’ house, I would strongly encourage you to do that - the risks of breaking quarantine are not as great as the risk of living with two people who intentionally swept sexual abuse under the rug. If there is nowhere else for you to go and you are still stuck at home for the future, I would encourage you to do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel safe. I know you may be living in close quarters, but try to find a place in the flat where you feel safest. If your room no longer feels like a safe place for you because of what happened there, you could take steps to change your room so that it no longer feels like the place where the abuse happened (redecorate, rearrange all the furniture, etc), or you could find a small space where you feel safe (maybe set up a blanket fort in your bedroom room, make a reading nook in your closet, or even just take long showers with the door locked). Take whatever precautions you need to take in order to feel safe - if you feel safer putting tape over your webcam, changing under a blanket or checking your room for cameras regularly, then that’s what you should do. Spend as much time away from your dad as you can get away with. If you have friends or family that you could be on video calls with, try to maximize how much time you spend doing that - your dad is not likely to make sexual comments or advances if you are on a live video feed with somebody. 

You also need to know that these experiences don’t have to lead to a lifetime of unhealthy relationships with men. It won’t always be easy - sexual abuse is a serious thing, and it can be hard to predict how this experience might affect you in the future. But you can overcome this, and you can decide that this is a pattern you don’t want to repeat. Talk to other survivors, seek counselling, read books aimed at survivors (you can find a reading list here). Understand that these experiences were not your fault, and they do not define your worth - there are partners out there who will respect your boundaries and your body, and it is possible for you to find that. You deserve nothing less. Recovery is possible, and you can have healthy relationships in the future with the right support. 

Best of luck to you.  Miss Mentelle

#Anonymous

[antics-pedantic]

DYNAURA!!: PILOT PART 2

A documentary by Ciro Spirale and Tapes, the Recordobot.

           Rex apologized for yesterday and obliged our request to follow him, encouraging a team-up. Nothing permanent: Rex was soured on full-time groups. But he did still enjoy meeting up with friends and allies from time-to-time. Which is why we found ourselves by the docks.

           “Yeah just wait, two other super heroes are over here.”

           After a moment, we caught sight of a figure dressed in black, with a pointy domino mask and short scarf. Jet black hair and outfit, with purple trim, looking off into the distance. She did not address us until someone else arrived from the sea, and more openly so.

           “Hiii~!”

           There was another: Resembling a golden brown-skinned Samoan woman, with a heavyset build. She was currently climbing the edge to stand on dry land with the rest of us, and she held up a small toy porpoise.

           “Hey Taria. Where’d ya get that?”

           “I was cleaning up some junk on the beach when someone offered me money for all the cans I collected. So I bought this from a boardwalk gift shop. I love it SO much!”

           “…” the shadow warrior between the three leaned over slightly. Up close her form was rather gangly and awkward. She spoke in a low voice: “… ‘s cute.”

           “I’m Taria, a warrior-mage from a community descended from Atlantis!” the aquatic woman introduced herself in a very bubbly manner. “Did you wanna hold the porpoise? Her name is Neptunia Petunia.”

           Taria held up Neptunia Petunia. I studied the toy porpoise for a time—just about right for a gift shop item, or some carnival prize. When Tapes held the toy, he held it high and even gave it an affectionate stroke along its back before returning it. Taria seemed to like the moxie.

           “Me and Rex have been friends as loooong as I can remember.” Said Taria, extending her arms out wide, almost as if for a hug. “But I was so busy looking out for my undersea home and studying hydro-magic we never got to play very long. But now we’re both super heroes and we can do anything!”

           “Has he always been this depressed?”

           “No, he used to be really vibrant. That’s why we got along! Did something happen again?”

           “Ah, it’s fine. We were just worried.”

           “Me too. I hope we can help answer your questions!”

           Tapes and I looked to the ninja woman. She looked over at Taria and Rex, as if miffed that they put her on the spot like this. It was a few minutes of dead air before she finally spoke up.

           “Hello. I am the Curious Kunoichi. No, you may not know my secret identity so please… respect that.”

           “That’s—that’s okay, we’re actually here to ask about your hero work and nothing else. How did you get started? Did you lose someone and become this… brooding vigilante? Dedicated yourself to training and put on a mask, standing against those with awesome powers anyway? Do you come from a ninja clan?”

           “Well I did become a brooding vigilante, but it was more like… I was really hyped to work with nonprofit organizations, government aid agencies... But growing up, some things did slip through the cracks: How these programs weren’t always doing as much as they could. Being undermined and embezzled. And as far as I know I don’t come from a ninja clan, I just like being stealthy so I trained in that. Now I fight street level baddies and corruption. And every now and then I help out with bigger problems. And then Taria and Rex help me out with the street stuff too. It’s really supportive and like, nice.”

           “That’s fair. Do you find your field of expertise is in high demand, or?”

           “For the most part. But some days it can be slow.”

           We eventually found ourselves outside a café. Not at a table, but the three super heroes were squatting outside of the building like delinquents, poring over their phones. Looking for trouble to tackle, places and people to help. As well as googling dictionary definitions of words, plus twitter feeds. And there Tapes and I were, taking this photo in time of three casual do-gooders who weren’t really in the limelight. Waiting for various flavors of coffee and doughnuts, all fresh. That is, after they managed to pull together exact change. They wanted to save their larger bills just in case they’d need them later.

           “Later tonight we might just hang out at my place or Kunoichi’s.” explained Rex, with a mouthful of chocolate doughnut, and sipping a fruity flavored milk tea after. “Usually we just sit inside a restaurant booth, but we’re not feeling it this time. Meanwhile if you’re like one of the… the Enforcers, you can go hang out in a skyscraper penthouse or a mansion. And not just here in Multiplex City, they got ‘em by Hollywood too. So… I guess, $ Cha-ching~? $”

           The three finished off their breakfast before running into an explosion: Rex and Taria kicked forward. Rex quick to crack open some fire hydrants so Taria could get at the water. She naturally had an affinity for the element, and her mystical training reinforced it with magical power and her own life force alike. After that, Rex focused on blasting debris and carrying people to a safe zone. The two zigzagged across the street, through the air and bounced off of buildings in their attempts to reach every flame.

           That left us with the Curious Kunoichi. She had us stay close: Her job was to try and find the source of all this, or at the very least some clue. Our journey took us indoors. Tapes had to stand close to shield me just to be safe. All the while Kunoichi mostly redirected people out of the buildings and away from the danger. But there was one straggler that didn’t run right away: A little girl, bawling her eyes out.

           Kunoichi approached. The little girl backed up, before Kunoichi knelt down to meet her at eye level. Appear less imposing.

           “It’s okay.” said Kunoichi. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

           “Scary.” The child sobbed. More at Tapes and I than addressing Kunoichi. The little girl couldn’t have been older than six or seven years old.

           “Only to bad people.” promised Kunoichi. “Someone must be looking for you.”

           “Can’t find my nana.” the child finally sniffled. “Wanted to buy cookies and ran away again. Now everything’s bad and it’s all my fault. What if Nana’s gone forever? That happened to mommy and daddy.”

           The white lenses of Kunoichi’s mask seemed to widen a little, before narrowing.

           “No, that’s not true. You didn’t cause anything that happened outside. And your Nana is fine, we’ll find her.”

           “I don’t wanna find out!”

           I wanted to try and say something too. But Tapes put a hand on my shoulder, and whispered:

           “PERCEPTIFY.”

           Kunoichi glanced out the window to see that the danger was still raging outside. The source was clearly elsewhere. But she could leave it to her friends. There was something here she had to do.

           “Some people I know—people that I cared about, disappeared too.”

           “… And it hurts a lot.”

           “Of course. But do you know what you can do about it?”

           The little girl nodded her head no.

           “Even if our favorite people disappear, they--” Kunoichi’s voice cracked a moment, as she searched for the words. “… They want us to keep playing and learning and all of that. And we can do that together: Be there for the people that are still around. And then nobody has to be afraid anymore.”

           “Are you scared too?”

           “Little bit.”

           The kid gave Kunoichi a hug and didn’t let go.

           “I’ll help you get outta here.” said the little girl.

           Smoke in my eyes for a second. Tapes broke down a door and got us outside. Kunoichi was swift in her movements, leading us just outside where the fire department had begun setting up. We were there about ten minutes before the little girl’s grandmother was reunited with her. Tapes and I could hear them:

           “Terry! Oh pumpkin, I’ve missed you!”

           “Me too Nana! Don’t be scared anymore.”

           “But how did you get here? Did one of those firefighters help you?”

           “No, it was this nice shadow lady. She’s right here.”

           But when they turned to see, there was a wisp from a fresh smoke bomb. The Curious Kunoichi had left as quickly as she’d arrived. We found Taria, who was helping to put out the flames.

           “We spotted a giant monster up ahead!” Taria exclaimed. “Rex went ahead to slow it down. C’mon!”

           Taria splashed ahead on a tidal wave she conjured. But as she did, police sirens and the heavy tread of tanks were ahead of us. And the firepower they laid down wasn’t far off either. But what was most astonishing was the fact that the kaiju ahead of us was scuttling away. And there was Rex, stumbling—and then diving forward to lash out at the armed force attacking.

           We could hear commanding officers barking out orders, and a damning dialogue:

           “ALL UNITS, OPEN FIRE ON THE ALIEN FREAK!”

           Their machine guns had fifty caliber rounds. Tougher to brace against than a .45 handgun like before. And their explosive ordinance meant a hail of grenades and missiles. Just one soldier after another pouring on a storm of hammering violence. And still yet, they were assembling weapons I’d never even seen up close, including one that appeared to be a large truck carrying a long mechanical arm that extended outwards a satellite dish.

           “THEY ARE EQUIPPING A MASER CANNON.”

           As Tapes had informed me, Masers were for zapping giant monsters. The ordinance was beyond excessive. And instead of going after the monster, Rex was busy attacking the army, who seemed all too familiar with him. Tapes and Taria pulled me along. After the kaiju.

           “Poor thing.” Taria muttered, looking up at the monster.

           “But it set that street ablaze.” I pointed out. Taria actually frowned for once.

           “Ciro, that’s not some size-changing supervillain. Many kaiju are just wild beasts. This one might be lost and confused. Maybe some have to be fought off, but that should only be if there’s no alternative.”

           “And there is one now?”

           “I think so… There’s no reason why we can’t help it and the people around here. C’mon!”

           Taria moved ahead, dragging me and Tapes along. Careful to avoid antagonizing the giant monster as we tried to search for… whatever it was looking for. But we eventually did, because there were still a mass of people still within a bakery.

           “What’s happening here? Don’t you know to evacuate?” I asked.

           “I think you should see for yourself.” someone said. We three entered, found a pile of debris. And under it, at about the size of a motorcycle, was a creature. It resembled the one outside, albeit smaller and less developed. It cried out to its parent, while the people around it struggled to remove debris. Taria gestured for everyone to run while she dug out the baby kaiju.

           “It wandered in, whimpering so I let it eat some cakes.” explained the baker who owned the place. “The big one—it showed up just after. A tank round or a missile-- grazed part of my building and trapped it. For crying out loud, it was just lost and hungry!”

           “WE UNDERSTAND. WE CANNOT DO MUCH TO REPAIR YOUR BUSINESS, BUT MY HUMAN COMPANION IS CREATING A DOCUMENTARY AT THE MOMENT. WE WOULD GLADLY FEATURE YOU AND YOUR STORE—YOUR STORY, IF YOU WILL ALLOW US.”

           “Of course. Thank you for the publicity—and people need to know what happened here. Will the baby be okay?”

           “I BELIEVE SO. TARIA HAS BEEN VERY GENTLE ABOUT THE SITUATION THUS FAR.”

           It was not long after that Taria was able to convince the kaiju to stop attacking. Tapes and I watched from a distance, but not far enough that we couldn’t see the baby kaiju ecstatic to have found its parent. The parent kaiju brought the child in close at the sound of nearby explosions, intending to shield it from further harm. The parent and child followed Taria’s path out towards the sea, wading away. The parent licking at the wounds of its young before becoming distant shapes and eventually disappearing.

           We reunited with Rex after he served as a shield against one last silo of missiles. The barrage ended, the present military forces retreating for the time being. Rex was still on both feet. But Rex was leaning over, with his hands on his knees as he huffed fiercely. Out of a mix of tremendous anger and exhaustion alike.

           “Have you often fought the army?” I asked, after Rex had begun clearing some debris before he’d leave again.

           “Plenty. They got it out for me, worst of it was after my secret identity got out.”

           “Why is that? They don’t want to work with you?”

           “They don’t wanna work with anybody or anything they can’t control. Least of all an alien who might potentially be an invasion scout or something.”

           “But you’re not here to invade.”

           “No, but that’s the lie that got spread around after I was unmasked.”

           Before we could get in more questions, Rex just rocketed off towards the skies. Tapes informed me that once Rex was over the city he’d broken the sound barrier and was currently climbing in speed until he’d cleared orbit and was on the surface of the moon.

           “Why would he go up to the moon like that?” I found myself asking Taria. She and Kunoichi’s efforts to clean up were concluded and the city sanctioned services would have to pick up the rest.

           “Favorite place to go when he needs to think, or he’s feeling down.” said Taria. “Sits on the edge of a crater. Sometimes Tugboat joins him.”

           “Did he… go up there after his secret identity was outed too? After he was branded an invader in disguise?”

           “Probably yeah. And for the longest time. But I don’t know much about that period… You should ask Kunoichi.”

           “She knew him then? Were they on the same team?”

           “Suffering south seas, no! Those guys were jerks.”

           “I was something of a jerk myself.” said Kunoichi when we’d caught up to her and Taria had left to do other things. “I mean, I say I’m a brooding vigilante now but back then. I still shudder at all the dorky, and sometimes downright cynical stuff I used to do. Like, I may try to be a lone wolf now but back then I didn’t even want to be near anybody. Just wanted to stamp out corruption and focus on that so I wouldn’t have to think about anything else.”

           “And how did you know Rex back then?”

           “We’d actually had to team-up even if we didn’t want to. Well, I didn’t want to. He was really excited back then. Naïve, but… welcoming. It wasn’t just about saving people, he wanted them to see the best parts of themselves. Come together to make the world a better place and all that. It was hard for me to believe in then, but I didn’t want to shoot it down either. Not like his old team did.”

           “Tell me about them?”

           Kunoichi must have been rolling her eyes under the mask.

           “Those greasy clowns? They made me look like a sunny day by comparison. Violent, impulsive, manipulative. But they also just hung out? Like: They played video games, watched TV, just hung out. When you’re a teen who doesn’t have many friends, you might jump at the chance to be part of something. Part of a group.  That’s what made it so easy for them to control their underlings.”

           “But they still struck Rex down.”

           “They did. Rex was too idealistic to fully give in. Maybe they could pressure him into doing things or keeping his mouth shut, push him around. But eventually enough was enough and Rex tried to stop them. Of course they outnumbered him, and weren’t afraid to play dirty. That’s why he’s regarded so poorly. And why I wish I’d done something more back then.”

           “SHE HAS GROWN FROM HER EXPERIENCE.” noted Tapes.

           “What?” I asked, my train of thought briefly derailed.

           “He’s right.” said the Curious Kunoichi, after a moment to process Tapes’s evaluation of herself. “Ever since then I’ve been trying to make my mission more than just wasting scumbags and breaking up racketeering rings. Rex and Taria, friends like them and more that I’ve gotten to know now. They helped me realize we should be ready to stand up and fight for the right thing. But also, there has to be something after the battle worth looking forward to. Something nice.”

           And she vanished before our very eyes. It was a while before we received a phone call. And not one from Rex or his friends thus far. We didn’t even know if they’d met up to hang out tonight like they planned. And after we heard the message, were wishing it was just some late night prank call.

           “Hello. I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Quark, owner and CEO of Quark Industries, AKA Shootsuit, head of the Enforcers. He’s heard about your work and would like to extend an invitation to join some of his Enforcers for a firsthand interview.”

           “Oh. Well, I’m not really sure—”

           “Both sides of the story, Spirale. See you tomorrow morning. I’ll text you the address and hour.”

           Tapes and I looked over the text. We were slated to continue our documentary with members of the Enforcers, America’s premiere superhero team. Led by the celebrity’s celebrity, industrialist Tommy Quark. But what could he or any of his people have to offer us themselves? As intriguing as this was getting, there was a terrible feeling in my gut.

#Web Fiction

[emma-frxst]

The Implicit Demand for Proof (2)

Pairing: detective David Loki x reader

Summary: you, a forensic psychologist for the FBI, get called in to help on a high priority child abduction case in Conyers, PA. what happens when you catch feelings for the mysterious David Loki?

Warnings: spoilers for the movie, movie level violence and language, slight change of events. Inaccuracies about law enforcement, the legal system, and psychology.

A/N- check my masterlist in by bio for part 1! things start picking up in ch3 I promise. Thanks for reading, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

-

“The aunt denied consent for Jones’ psych eval.” You could hear the irritation in O’Malley’s voice, whether it was with the Jones’ or you, you couldn’t tell. 

“Shit.” You said under your breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know, captain.” You said and slumped back to your desk.

You had tired every loophole you could think of- getting the psych eval, delaying the psych eval, pushing the psych eval forward, hell you’d interrogate him yourself if you thought it would help. But none of those options were feasible, especially if the legal guardian didn’t give consent. Now time for your last resort- staying overnight and combing over the interrogation tapes and try to find something, anything to hold Alex Jones. Looks like Loki wasn’t the only one going to be up all night. 

-/

You had been watching tapes for hours. There wasn’t a soul in the station, everyone had gone home a long time ago. 

God, you needed a break. Since no one was around, you kicked off your shoes, shed your suit jacket and sat cross-legged in your chair, you might as well be comfortable. 

You looked around the office, noting the details of your surroundings, giving your eyes a break from the screen, when the desk next to you caught your eye. 

Loki’s desk. 

You usually didn’t profile your co-workers, but there was something about Loki that intrigued you. 

Everything on his desk was neat for the most part, suggesting he was an orderly, disciplined, and cautious person. The desk itself was in the corner, facing away from all the others, probably a subconscious choice on Loki’s part. He was isolated from most of his co-workers, meaning he was rather closed off and impersonal. There was nothing personal on his desk, either. No Knick-knacks, no pictures of family-no wife or kids, or friends- nothing to denote a personal life.

 You’d figure out the mystery of David Loki later, but not now. Right now, you needed to focus on finding Joy and Anna.

-/

You were deep in concentration mode watching the last of the tapes when Loki walked by. Not expecting anyone to be there, he backtracked and wrinkled his brow when he saw you hunched over the desk. 

“What are you doin here, l/n?” 

“Hm? Oh, detective Loki, hi. Um, the aunt didn’t give consent for Alex Jones’ psych eval, so I’m combing through interrogation tapes as a Hail Mary, trying to find something, anything, to keep Jones for another day.” 

She had good work ethic, Loki could respect that.

 “Got anything?” He asked.

“See his body language here-“ you pointed to the screen Loki leaned in over you so he could see, close enough to where you could smell the faint scent of the cologne he wore, but not close enough to make you uncomfortable. 

“I think he knows something about the girls disappearance, but he’s not competent enough to understand anything he’s being asked.”

“Fuck.” Loki said, running a hand through his hair. “I spent 10 hours interrogating him yesterday. He wouldn’t budge.”

You did notice how Loki was the only one to interrogate Jones, he was very thorough. And a damn good detective. 

“You got anything?” You asked.

“A priest with a body in his basement.” 

Your eyebrows shot up “Oh shit, okay.” 

“Forensics is down there now, the priest is  being booked and processed. He uh, claims the guy came to him for a confession, that he killed 16 kids.” Loki blinked ‘hard’ once or twice. 

“Think that’s the truth?”

“Hard to tell, he’s a fuckin drunk.”

“Oh great.” You put your face in your hands. “Well, on that note, I could use a coffee.” 

“Me too.” Loki said, following you into the break room. 

You leaned up against the counter, sipping your drink. 

“You see cases like this lot in the FBI?” Loki asked, leaning on the counter opposite from you. Your shoe-less feet not going unnoticed. 

“Unfortunately, yeah. About 65% of the time I get called out into the field like this, it’s for child abduction.” 

Loki only hummed in response, not pushing any further. 

“Y’all see this a lot here, in Conyers?” 

“No, not a lot.” 

This time it was your turn to hum in response, you brain too worn out to think of any other response. 

You took notice of the small tattoos that detailed Loki’s hands. Your curiosity  tempted you to ask about them, but you figured Mr. Mysterious Tough Guy wouldn’t want to get personal. Besides, you had only just met the man. 

You and Loki took your break in silence, exhaustion overtaking the both of you. Loki’s eyes drifted to the firearm on your hip. 

“You carry a gun?” He asked, surprised. 

You nodded yes, due to a mouth full of mediocre coffee. 

“I thought psychologists did office work?” 

“Well I do. But because I do cases like this, where I’m out in the field working with police and detectives, I have basic field training.” 

Loki only nodded, not really knowing how to respond to that. 

“Guess Jones is getting released in the morning then.” Loki stated, rather than questioned. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Unless he’s charged with something.” 

“Yeah.” 

An awkward silence fell over the two of you like a heavy fog. 

“Detective..” you started. “I uh, didn’t mean to be crass earlier in the car. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, especially since we’re going to be working together and all.” 

“Don’t worry about it L/n.” He replied and downed the rest of his drink, then went back to his desk. 

You followed not long after. 

So much for getting off on the right foot. 

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