#but you better believe if any one of his pups is in the crossfire

[haveihitanerve]

What all of the Questers were ready for when they went on a ‘quest’: swords, claws, being attacked, getting stitches, having to fight, being covered in blood 24/7, possible internal bleeding, having to fight someone while your guts are splayed across your bonds back and you are half hanging off of them

What the Questers were not, in fact ready for: all 800 lbs of rage daddy coming and slamming into them to shield them when the going gets tough

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Ch. 6

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Notes: Thought you could escape me? Never.

Word Count: 5.1k

Song: The Enemy - Andrew Belle

Warnings: Normal CM warnings. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

_____________________

“What are you afraid of?”

You looked up. Spencer was laying beside you, his arms crossed over his chest as he laid on his side. You had one hand under your head, the other resting on the mattress in the space between you and him.

“Jean shorts,” you said in a faux scared voice. “And crocs. And when you put them together…”  You shuddered.

Spencer scoffed with a smile, which made you giggle. 

“Come on,” he pressed. “You served in the military. You lost a parent. You got deployed, and you came back alive. What scares you?”

You sighed in consideration.

Fear was something you hadn’t thought about in awhile. Loss, yes. Loneliness, absolutely.  Anger passed your mind once or twice. But fear? You couldn’t remember the last time you were afraid for yourself.

“Getting attached,” you answered quietly. “I’m afraid of commitment. Well, not actually. I’m afraid of losing the people I love. It got worse when my dad died, but, I don’t know… I think it’s always been there.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“I don’t love. I care, I feel, I consider. But I try my hardest not to love anything, because if I lose it, it doesn’t hurt as bad.” 

“You can’t just decide to not love,” Spencer argued softly.

You smiled sadly. “You’d be surprised what I do to keep myself safe.”

“You mean to keep yourself from hurting?”

You shrugged. “Same thing.” 

You stepped out of the room, wiping your eyes and sucking in a breath. You wandered back down a few of the station’s hallways, eventually finding Hotch.  He dismissed the officer he was speaking to. 

“What’s going on?” He asked as he approached you.

“I’m just slowing Spencer down,” you lied, forcing out a laugh. “Ya know, photographic memory and all. I was wondering if I would be more useful somewhere else?” 

Hotch studied you for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You can observe the interrogation. You’ll be sent to the field if Missy Dewald shows up.” 

“You mean if her body shows up?”

“We don’t know how Harris’s partner will react to the news of his betrayal,” Hotch said. “It’s possible that he lets Dewald go in an act of defiance.”

“It’s also possible that he kills her a lot sooner than any of the other girls.”

“That is a possibility,” Hotch replied, before dismissing himself. 

You ran a hand through your hair. Cases like this sucked. 

“That’s her,” The detective said. “That’s Missy Dewald. I looked her father in the eye and told him I’d find her alive.” 

She looked identical to all the other victims: young, conventionally attractive, and strangled to death. Missy also had ligature marks around her wrists, which was seen on Harris’s other victims. What wasn’t seen, however, was the bite mark on her shoulder. 

“So in the time we’ve been here, she went missing and turned up dead,” Emily thought aloud. “Do you think Harris dumped the body before he was taken into custody?”

Rossi shook his head. “The M.E. says she’s been dead for several hours.”

“Harris has been in custody for the last several hours,” you said, pointing out the obvious.

“So you think we have the wrong guy?” The detective asked.

“He’s communicating with someone,” Derek said instead. “He’s confident they won’t turn against him.”

“Like an affair?”

“Like a partner,” Derek corrected. 

“The only way we can break ground with Harris is to find out who his partner is,” you said.

Derek nodded in agreement. “Let’s go break some ground, then.”

You followed him back to the SUV; Emily and Rossi were staying behind to collect evidence. While getting into the vehicle and pulling onto the road, you were quiet.

“Hopefully Reid knows more by the time we get back,” He said conversationally.

You nodded.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked. His tone was questioning, but a hint of worry seeped through.

You faked a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Normally, you jump at the idea of working with Spencer,” he said. “But today, you looked for a reason not to. Why is that?”

“I’m not useful to him today,” you said nonchalantly. “His brain works faster than mine.” 

“That’s never stopped you before,” he chuckled. 

Derek glanced over. You said nothing. He sighed.

“Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but… He likes you.”

You raised your eyebrows in feign surprise. “He told you that?”

“He didn’t have to,” Derek replied. “I know that kid better than he knows himself sometimes.”

You actually snorted. You highly doubted the authenticity of that claim. 

“Come on, don’t act like you don’t like him too,” Derek chuckled. “We all see the way you two interact. There’s something going on.”

‘You have no idea’, you thought bitterly.

“Even if I wanted to, it’s not like I could do anything about it,” you mumbled. “Dating someone on the team is considered a conflict of interest.” 

“Like rules ever stopped you,” he teased.

“Look, can you drop it?” you snapped. “We’re not in middle school — we’re grown-ass adults with grown-ass feelings and problems.” You closed your eyes and sighed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Derek. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s been a rough couple of days, and I’m… I’m sorry.” 

“Nolan?” Derek asked simply, gently.

“Yeah,” you agreed, then looked out your window. If only it were that simple.

“You know we’ve got your back, right Y/N?” Derek said. “We never would have let anything happen to you.” 

“I know,” you agreed. “That’s not what’s bothering me.”

“Then what is?”

You turned back to look at him, a sad smile on your face. “I spent 18 months in an active war zone. I watched men be turned to nothing but pulp by IEDs. But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part was treated Syrian children who got caught in the crossfire. They came in on the brink of death, and they left on crutches, missing one or both legs. They were nothing but collateral damage to men who couldn’t seem to agree. It’s such bullshit.”

“Did Nolan bring it all back up?”

“Him among other things,” you said.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m all ears,” Derek promised.

“Thanks.” 

“His partner is a biter,” Rossi said, showing the crime scene photos to Reid.

“They’ve never done that before,” Spencer said, observing the red teeth marks on Missy Dewald. 

“He might be going back to what’s comfortable now that Harris isn’t around,” Rossi agreed.

“So you think he’s a repeat offender?” you asked, unable to help yourself.

Spencer briefly looked up at you, then cleared his throat. “It’s possible. Garcia should run dental records, see if the mark matches anything on-file.” 

“I’ll get on that,” you said, silently dismissing yourself from the conversation.

“Turns out, there’s a lot of sick pups in Central Florida,” Penelope said through the phone. “Today’s marks don’t match William Harris, but they do match a rape that was reported earlier this year in Manatee County.”

“That’s great; you found a match,” Emily said.

“Yeah, the teeth belong to the same person, but they’ve never been arrested, so I can’t cross reference,” Garcia said.

“What about the victim?” Hotch asked.

“Connie Meyers — she still lives in the area,” she answered.

“Send Prentiss the address; Y/L/N, go with,” Hotch ordered.

“They’re gonna ask who you are,” Connie said nervously. “They don’t know.” 

For that reason exactly, you left your bomber jacket in the car and borrowed the plain one Emily was wearing. For the first time since working in the BAU, you didn’t feel like your identity was being screamed off of a rooftop.

“We’re just buying flowers,” you assured. You pointed to a bouquet. “Those daisies are nice.”

“In the report, it says your attacker knew what he wanted,” Emily said in a low voice. “That he was confident?”

“More like a control freak,” Connie said. “He wore a mask, but I could tell he was white. He choked me. It took a long time for the bruises to go away. If the lighting is right, it’s like I can still see his hand. It’s nothing compared to the bite marks, though. They’re scars now.”

“I know what that feels like,” you said softly, which gained both Connie and Emily’s attention. “I’m sorry.”

Connie nodded, then grabbed the bouquet you asked for. “I’ll go wrap these for you.”

“Thank you.”

When Connie was out of earshot, you turned to Emily. “Are we seriously talking two alpha males?” 

“It seems so.” 

“The man we’re looking for is just like your father,” you said, taking a seat next to Andrea, William’s daughter. “He’s smart, strong confident. He might have a family also.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to accuse someone else’s dad of murder?” Andrea asked.

You let out a breath. “I know this is hard, Andrea, but —”

“Do you?” She asked. “Do you know?”

“Yes,” you said calmly. “I know. He’s your dad: you don’t want to believe he can do wrong. But Andrea — and I mean this in the nicest way possible — this isn’t about you. Really, it’s not even about your father. It’s about the girls that are being kidnapped, raped, and murdered. Don’t you think their families deserve… something? Some kind of closure?”

She didn’t say anything.

“We think the accomplice has done this before,” you continued. “He’s been described as a white man in his 40s. He’s someone you might recognize, and there’s a good chance he’ll check up on you.” 

“Why would he do that?” “He’s worried about your dad, but he has no way to contact him. You and your mother are the next best thing.”

Once again, she said nothing.

You stood up. “Stay safe, Andrea,” you said before walking off to find Emily. 

You walked into your apartment, throwing your bag and jacket onto the floor. Normally, you were neater and more organized, but today, you were exhausted. You got back from a case a couple hours before having to attend lectures in the morning. You thought coffee replaced the blood flowing through your veins. 

You walked into the kitchen, getting a glass of water before turning in for the night. When you turned around, you noticed something sitting on your kitchen counter.

Pink, purple, and blue daisies filled a vase you didn’t buy. A white note on top stuck out. 

‘The apartment needs some decoration.

-Spencer.’

You bit your lip with a smile. 

The case ended with William and his partner, who turned out to be his neighbor, behind bars. Andrea and her mother were in shambles, but no one expected otherwise. You felt bad for them both. They made the investigation more difficult, yes, but it wasn’t intentional. They loved him. They didn’t want to believe he was capable of evil. 

“Great work everyone,” Hotch praised as the team filtered back into the office. “Go home, get some sleep.”

Everyone went to their desks, including you. You were starting to regret picking the one next to Spencer.

“Y/N,” Hotch said, catching your attention. “Can I speak to you before you leave?” 

You nodded, swallowing. “Sure.” 

He nodded before walking upstairs. 

You gathered  your things, refusing to look at anyone. By the time you ascended the stairs, you thought Spencer’s gaze would burn a hole through your skin. You slipped into Hotch’s office before that could happen.

“Take a seat,” Hotch said, already in the chair behind his desk.

You did as you were told.

“What happened today?” He asked.

You frowned. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“Reid told me you were the one to discover two authors in the blog posts,” he said instead. “Why didn’t you mention that?”

You shrugged. “It didn’t seem important.”

“It didn’t cross your mind when you asked to be reassigned?” He inquired. 

You bit your lip. 

“Since you joined the BAU, you and Spencer have made an excellent team,” Hotch continued. “I’d hate to see that relationship ruined.”

“It isn’t,” you assured. “Just because I want to work with other people doesn’t mean I hate Spencer. I have other people to learn from, is all.”

Hotch studied you for a moment. “It’s okay to confide in people, Y/N. It’s okay if you confide in someone on this team. In… unique circumstances, HR should be informed, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there,” you said. “What happened between Spencer and I started before I worked here. It started before you even offered me a job. But it’s over now. We were together. We aren’t now. We’re adults: we know how to be civil. We know how to put personal issues aside and focus on the job at hand. You have nothing to worry about. So am I good to go?” 

He nodded. 

“Great,” you muttered, standing up and walking to the door.

“Y/N?” Hotch said. 

You turned around. 

“You went to war, and 3 weeks ago, a man held a gun to your head,” Hotch stated. “If you need help, you should ask for it.”

“I’m okay,” you said. “I’ve lived through worse.” 

“Who is this?”

You smiled, turning away from your record player. “Lord Huron.”

You began swaying to the music. You offered Spencer your hand. He shook his head. 

“I don’t dance,” he said. 

Ignoring his protests, you grabbed both of his hands and slowly pulled him to his feet. “It’s a long night, can I spend it with you? ‘Cause you’re oh so pretty when you stand on the edge…”

When the refrain began to play, you extended your arms outwards, still holding Spencer’s hands, and pulled yourself back in. Spencer caught your drift, spinning you a few times. You giggled, throwing your head back. 

The two of you continued to dance like that; focusing more on the feeling and moving to the beat versus worrying what the two of you looked like. Once or twice, you even reached your hand up to twirl Spencer. He of course obliged, which made you erupt with laughter. 

As the song died down, you rested your arms on his shoulders. His hands found your waist, and the two of you swayed to the sound. When the song was over, he pulled you into a kiss. 

You woke up from your dream. It wasn’t a nightmare, and yet, you cried yourself back to sleep. 

8 AM sharp, you were sitting in the briefing room with the rest of the team. You sat at one end of the table, while Spencer occupied the other.

“10-year-old Sammy Sparks of Lafayette Parish, Louisiana showed up to school this morning covered in blood,” Garcia said. 

A few pictures appeared on the monitor behind her; a young boy, no older than ten, had blood spatters across his hands and one side of his face.

“When the police got to his house, they discovered that his parents, Charlie and Allison Sparks, are missing.” 

“Forensics show that at least one of them was injured,” Derek said.

“That amount of blood? I’m guessing gunshot,” you added.

“Has there been a ransom demand?” Emily asked.

Garcia shook her head. “None whatsoever.” 

Rossi frowned. “Then why call in the BAU?” 

“New Orleans Police is hoping we can interview Sammy,” Hotch answered.

“No one has talked to the witness yet?” Spencer asked in confusion. 

“Sammy’s autistic,” Hotch clarified. “Getting him to talk won’t be easy. I’m hoping you and Y/N will be able to get through to him.” 

You looked up from the file. “You want me to talk to Sammy?”

Everyone but Spencer looked at you.

“Is that a problem?” Hotch inquired.

“Of course not,” you said immediately. “It’s just… I’m not a profiler, and I don’t have much experience when it comes to autism. I don’t understand how I’m any more qualified than anyone else on the team.” 

The team shared a look. 

“Who’s gonna tell her?” Emily said.

You frowned. “Tell me what?” 

“Y/N, you’re amazing with kids,” Garcia said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“...I don’t understand.”

“Are you kidding?” JJ chuckled. “Angel, Katie, Jeremy… you might have more maternal instinct than I do.” 

“What? That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed.

“We can finish this debate on the jet,” Hotch intervened. “Wheels up in 30.” 

You and Spencer were led into a private room in the police station. You saw Sammy sitting on the couch, a pad of paper in his hand. He used crayons to draw the same two lines over and over again.

“Hi Sammy,” Spencer greeted warmly. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. What are you drawing?” 

The police officer that showed you in set his hand on Sammy’s arm. He immediately screamed and lurched back. He then began to rock back and forth in his seat. 

“Some autistic kids don’t respond well to touch,” you explained. The officer merely dismissed himself from the room, silently acknowledging that this situation was beyond him.

“It’s possible that witnessing his parents’ abduction pushed him into emotional overload and he shut down,” Spencer said in a low voice.

“Could be why he’s drawing the same thing over and over again,” you agreed. “Or, maybe he’s trying to tell us something.” 

“Sammy,” Spencer said, taking a seat on the coffee table opposite of the couch. “We’re looking for your mom and dad. Did ‘L’ take them?”

Sammy, still holding the crayon, lifted his hand into the air. He began making an ‘L’ motion with his hand. 

You excused yourself from the room, fishing your phone out of your pocket. 

“Go for Garcia.”

“Hey, Penn,” you greeted. “I need you to run a list of everyone that associated with the Sparks family — focus on anyone who’s first or last name starts with an ‘L’.”

“I have run every ‘L’ I can find, think of, or make up in my giant, magic head, and nothing fits,” Garcia said.

You, Hotch, Spencer, and Derek all stood around a table in the police station. You were on a video call with Garcia, as she said she had news to share with everyone. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the news you wanted to hear.

“Have you found Sammy’s next of kin?” Hotch asked. 

“Only by name. Charlie has a sister named Elizabeth that was last reported residing in Mont Belvieu, Tejas. But she’s not responding to calls or email.” 

“Elizabeth could stand for Liz or Lizzie,” Spencer said. 

“Could be where he’s getting the letter ‘L’ from,” you nodded in agreement. “We need to find her, and we need to find her fast.”

“I’ll find her so fast that the world will reverse rotation and time will bend backwards. Hello,” Garcia rattled before signing off. 

While Spencer and the rest of the team explored leads on the parents, you decided to sit with Sammy and see if you could make some headway. 

“Hey, Sammy,” you said, taking a seat next to him on the couch. You were sure to leave a decent amount of space between the two of you. “My name is Y/N. I was in here earlier with my friend Spencer. Do you remember that?”

Sammy continued to draw his picture, which now seemed to consist of stars that looked like asterisks.

“I love your drawings,” you praised. “They have great color.”

You picked up one of his previous drawings, a sheet that was covered with ‘L’s. 

“What does this one mean, Sammy?” you asked.

Sammy glanced at the paper you were holding. He inhaled sharply and began to rock back and forth.

“Okay, it’s okay,” you said, setting down the paper. “You’re okay, Sammy. You’re safe.”

When he settled  back down, you noticed that Sammy was tapping his fingers in a particular pattern. You observed him for a moment before it clicked.

“Sammy’s trying to tell us something,” you said, bursting into the conference room.

Everyone stared at you. 

“Y/N, this is Elizabeth, Sammy’s aunt,” Rossi said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. “Sammy’s trying to tell us something.”

“Tell us what?” Spencer prompted.

“When I showed him his own drawing, the one with all the ‘L’s, he panicked,” you explained. “Then, he started tapping his fingers. I think he’s trying to play something.”

“Like on the piano?” Derek asked.

“He was playing when his parents were kidnapped,” Spencer recalled. “He might be remembering something.” 

“Is there any way we can get a keyboard?” You asked.

“We should bring him back to the house,” Rossi said. “Taking him back to the exact location could trigger something.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you frowned. “He’s already pretty upset…”

“Whatever he’s trying to tell us could be the key to finding his parents,” Spencer countered. “But, of course, the ultimate decision is up to his guardian.”

You, Spencer, and Rossi all looked to Elizabeth.

“I’m supposed to decide?” She asked. 

“You’re his legal guardian right now,” Rossi repeated. “The decision is yours.”

The three of you let Sammy enter the house first. He went to the piano almost immediately, but didn’t sit down right away; he ran his toy train along the frame first.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” You asked Elizabeth.

“His 5th birthday,” she answered.

“5 years ago,” you said in shock.

“Charlie and I had a falling out,” Elizabeth explained. “It got ugly. I haven’t seen either of them since.” She paused. “Do you think you’ll find him?”

“I hope so,” you said with a reassuring smile.

“Sammy, is it alright if I sit here?” Spencer asked. 

He let a few seconds pass before taking a seat on the piano bench. Then, he began to play a scale.

Sammy took a seat next to him and began to play the same scale, only in a higher octave. 

“Woah, you’ve been holding out on me, Sammy,” Spencer said with a wide smile. He then played the scale backwards. Sammy did the same. 

“Sammy, how about you play this note,” Spencer said, then played a G, “for yes, and this note,” he played a C, “for no. Does that sound like something you can do?” 

Sammy played ‘yes’.

“Yeah, just like that,” Spencer praised. “Now, Sammy, do you remember when the man came and took your parents away?”

He played ‘yes’ again. He pressed the same key several times. Then, Sammy began to play a song. It sounded beautiful, like something ballerinas would dance to.

“Sammy, I don’t understand,” Spencer said softly. “Does this song mean something to you?” 

Sammy stopped playing. He set his hand in his lap. You thought he might stand up or walk out. But then, you saw him lift Spencer’s hand onto the piano. Sammy pressed down Spencer’s thumb, middle, and pinkie finger, all of them playing a different note. He then played the same three notes, but once again in higher octave. 

Sammy played the three notes in a specific order, one that sounded like the roots of the song he was playing mere moments ago. After repeating the rhythm a few times, Spencer joined seamlessly.

“Do you want to have kids?” Spencer asked.

You considered, then nodded. “One day. After I’m done with school, probably. What about you?” 

“I find the concept of pregnancy and childbirth disturbing,”  Spencer admitted.

You laughed. “Me too. But from what I’ve heard, you forget all the nasty and annoying and painful parts when the baby comes.”

“Fatherhood does have a certain... appeal to it,” he agreed. Then, he smiled to himself fondly. He looked so beautiful you wanted to take a picture, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment.  You opted to take a mental picture instead. 

Elizabeth excused herself to use the restroom. After awhile, she didn’t come back downstairs, so you decided to make a trip upstairs. Spencer and Sammy were still busy playing the piano, so you figured they’d be okay without you for a moment. 

You checked the bathroom, not surprised to find it empty. You wandered further into the house, eventually finding Sammy’s room. You saw Elizabeth sitting on his bed.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, stepping into the room. 

“I’m a stranger in my own brother’s house. My nephew doesn’t recognize me,” she said. “And then, I find this.”

You took a seat next to her. She offered you a flipbook of pictures, one Sammy and his parents used. On one of the pages was a picture of Elizabeth.

“I always assumed he had no idea who I was,” Elizabeth said.

“What was the fight about, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I was the one who suspected Sammy had autism,” she answered. “Charlie couldn’t see it. He was so upset, he kicked me out.”

You flipped through the rest of the book; each page had an illustration on it, and in the corner was a clock demonstrating a time. “What made you think he’s autistic?”

“He was… different,” Elizabeth said. “So, I did some research. Charlie was blind to it. He refused to accept what I found.” 

“It’s scary,” you said, “learning your child won’t have it as easy as you did. If it makes you feel any better, you probably helped Sammy; you might have even saved Charlie and Allison’s marriage.” 

You continued to flip through the booklet. You enjoyed routine, but the Sparks took it to a whole new level. Sammy’s entire life revolved around what he did, when he did it… he interprets the world through pictures.

Pictures.

You ran down the stairs and back into the living room.

“Spencer, come look at this,” you said, as you entered the room. Elizabeth followed suit. 

He stopped playing with Sammy to approach you. “What, his flip book?”

“Not just his flip book: his routine,” you said. “Shower, brush teeth, dress... His entire life is planned out in order.”

“Maybe we can figure out where he met the UnSub,” Spencer said.

“He already did,” you countered. “He lives his life in pictures.”

Spencer fumbled for his bag, pulling out Sammy’s drawings. “He’s been trying to speak to us, but he only communicates through symbols.”

He spread the drawings out on the floor. “It’s his language.”

You pointed to one on the far right. “Anchors, like your socks,” you said. Sure enough, Spencer lifted his pant leg to show blue socks covered with anchor designs. 

“And those are asterisks: it’s the logo on your jacket,” Spencer said.

You took off your jacket and looked at the back, though you’d hardly forgotten what the paramedic logo looked liked. 

“So what does the ‘L’ mean?” Elizabeth asked. 

“I don’t think it is an ‘L’,” Spencer disagreed. 

“It’s a time,” you said, pointing to the clock in the corner of each page.

“It’s the time he’s trying to tell us about — the time he met the UnSub,” Spencer concluded. “Where is he at 3:00?”

You flipped through. “2:30, music store. He doesn’t leave until it closes at 6.” 

Spencer was already on it, adjusting the time on his watch so it said 3:00.

“Hey, Sammy, it’s almost 3,” he said, showing Sammy his watch. “Is there some place you should be?”

Sammy ran his finger over the watchface, tracing the arms on the watch. 

“Should be, store,” he said. 

By the time you found the Sparks, it was too late for Charlie. You’d later learn he had been dead since the night before. It was also too late for the UnSub, but you didn’t feel so bad about that part, especially considering that Allison was the one who shot him. You comforted Elizabeth as she mourned the loss of her brother, and you watched Sammy as he reciprocated his mother’s hug for the first time in his life. It was a bittersweet ending. 

You entered your apartment, tossing your jacket, bag, and keys onto the couch. You moved into the kitchen, fixing yourself a drink. You already knew you wouldn’t be attending any lectures the next morning, so you poured yourself some Fireball. The first sip alone burned your throat and warmed your chest. 

You heard the doorknob jiggle. You reached for your pistol, which was in a holster on your side; you passed firearm certification a little over a week ago. 

Spencer opened the door. You let out a sigh that sounded more like a growl.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, holstering your weapon. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

“Tobias Hankel,” he said.

“What?”

“Tobias Hankel is the man who hurt me,” he continued.

You shook your head, setting down your drink. “Please, not now, Spencer.” 

“He kidnapped me, tied me to a chair, and injected me with Dilaudid,” Spencer said. “I blacked out each time, and when I came back, he did it again. Once, he stopped my heart and had to resuscitate me.”

“Please, stop,” you said, voice growing weaker.

Spencer closed the door, stepping deeper into your apartment. “He held a gun to my head and made me choose which BAU team member he would kill.” 

“Stop,” you begged, voice no louder than a whisper.

“He hurt me, Y/N, and I wasn’t the same for a long time,” Spencer continued. “In some ways, I’m still different. But I’m okay. I found a way to live with it. And you can too, if you just talk. Just let me in. Let me help.” 

“You can’t help me!” you screamed. “No one can! Don’t you get it, Spencer?! I am broken. I came home broken, I live a broken life, and one day, I’ll die broken. That is my cross to bear, not yours.” 

“I love you,” Spencer said, swallowing thickly. “I love you and whatever mess you come with. So please, Y/N, I am begging you, let me help you.” 

You put a hand over your mouth to mask a sob. You felt Spencer move forward, trying to pull you into a hug. You pushed him away.

“Get the fuck away from me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. 

Clearly, Spencer wasn’t one to give up easily. He grabbed you again, this time pressing your side into his chest so you couldn’t fight him with your arms. You clawed at his grip a few times, but really, you were just so tired. 

You broke down completely, sinking to the floor. Spencer followed you down, his face in your hair and his arms still tight around you. One of his forearms was across your chest, and you gripped it for dear life. 

_____________________

Notes: Yes, I 100%, without a doubt, stole most of those flashback scenes from other media lol. Fight me. 

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[thinkyoureholy]

Love Shot [6]

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Pairing : Do Kyungsoo / [Fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Some Fluff, Smut, Character Death?, Mafia! AU, Detective! AU

Words : 2.5k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I stared up at him wide eyed, not believing my ears...and eyes admittedly. Junseo never told me he had a brother but this man looked exactly like him, despite saying he was his older brother I would’ve believed him if he said he was his twin. I guess that no aging gene really runs in the family huh? My thoughts were cut off as he spoke, his eyes on me but his words directed to Chanyeol.

“Mind if you give us a minute alone?”

Chanyeol just stared at the man, his feet glued to the floor as he refused to move. When he noticed Chanyeol wasn’t going to leave he turned to him but he didn’t back down. Chanyeol then spoke to me, his eyes glued to him.

“Hey Y/N is it just me or does this dude have the same name as the guy Sooyoung said sends his regards. I don’t know about you but Junmyeon isn’t that common of a name.” He said, a smirk on his face when Junmyeon clenched his jaw.

I said nothing as I let the information sink in. It can’t be the same guy...I mean if he was anything like Junseo he wouldn’t have anything to do with the likes of Sooyoung. Then again Junseo never mentioned a brother to me in all the years that I knew him and I can’t help but to think this is exactly why he never mentioned him.

“Chan it’s fine. He won’t try anything...will you?” I said, directing that last bit to Junmyeon.

Junmyeon let a tight smile cross his face, his eyes never leaving Chanyeol’s, “Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart.”

Chanyeol didn’t move for awhile, warning Junmyeon with his eyes. With one last look in my direction Chanyeol left the two of us alone. Junmyeon then let out an annoyed sigh, combing his fingers through his hair as he took the seat Chanyeol had occupied. He cross his left leg over his right one, turning his attention to me as he sat back and got comfortable. I just continued to stare at him, the image of Junseo flashing in my mind.

“God...you look exactly like him the resemblance is uncanny.” I said under my breath, hoping he didn’t hear it.

But he did, his eyes darkening at the mere mention of him, “If possible I’d like you not to mention my brother.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at his words. The way he acted was enough to know he hated being in the same room, speaking to me seemed like it took a lot out of him. He hated me enough to have Sooyoung target me directly but why? I had never crossed paths with him before and the only thing that connected us was Junseo.

“What is it you want here?” I asked, getting straight to the point.

He chuckled at my change in attitude, now talking with the detective he had hoped to meet in the first place. He kept quiet for some time, just staring at me, as if he was studying me. His eyes fell to my stomach where the wound Sooyoung gave me still throbbed.

“Sooyoung had one job and she couldn’t even do it properly.” He said in a low voice, the disappointment clear, “But I should’ve known better than to give a pup a job meant for a wolf.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate me Junmyeon. I won’t go down without a fight.”

“I can see that. Junseo always said you were a fiesty one.” He said with a hint of a smile.

Silence enveloped the two of us. I stared down at my hands on my lap, my mind clouded with thoughts of Junseo but I shook them away. I had to focus on what was in front of me. Junmyeon was clearly using his people to try and get rid of me and I had to figure out why before Kyungsoo got caught in the crossfire. If he ever found out about the relationship between Kyungsoo and I he’d kill him immediately.

“I’m going to ask again. What is it you want here?”

Junmyeon grinned at hearing the repeated question, tilting his head to the side slightly, “I want you dead.”

I kept my face blank at his words, trying to hide the way his words actually affected me. My mind was going haywire but I managed to keep my heart rate normal as I waited for him to continue.

“You’re the reason why I was left without a brother and now I’m going to be the one to take your life. If you hadn’t dug your claws so deeply into him he wouldn’t have risked his life for you.” He said through clenched teeth, the anger clear in his voice.

I was left speechless by his words. I had never been more clueless in my life. Junseo died in a car accident...how was that my fault. Sure I blamed myself since it was after he left my place but risked his life? What the hell did he mean by that?

“Judging by the look on your face you’re as clueless as ever.” He said, scoffing when I made no move to say anything, a humorless laugh leaving his lips, “You really knew nothing about him did you? Well let me fill you in. Seo was as much of a criminal as I am, hell the bastard was the devil himself. He had many others before you and they all died. They were held hostage by our enemies and eventually killed. You’d think he would’ve done everything in his power to save them but no. He left them to die and he should’ve done the same to you when they found out about you.”

“...You’re lying…”

“They sent him pictures of the two of you together and my idiot brother couldn’t bare the thought of anything happening to you, that’s when he went to them instead.”

“Shut up…”

“You know what they did to him? They tortured him, mentally and physically. If it wasn’t for you my brother would still be alive!” He yelled, getting up from his seat and towering over me.

I shook my head, the tears already streaming down my face as I covered my ears. He reached forward and grabbed my shoulders in his hand roughly, forcing me to look up at him.

“When we found him he was unrecognizable. What I found wasn’t even my brother anymore, I wasn’t even sure if it was human. He died because of you!”

“No! You’re lying!” I yelled through my tears, trying to get his hands off me but he held on tightly.

“It’s all your fault! You killed him!”

“No!” I screamed out, pushing at his chest, successful in getting him off of me.

I grabbed onto the sides of my head as I brought my knees up the my chest, ignoring the pain that spread across my stomach. The tears fell from my eyes as the image of Junseo’s lifeless body flashed in my mind. I couldn’t help but imagine how badly mutilated his body was. He was cremated so I never did get to see his body. But everything he said about Junseo being a criminal didn’t make any sense. Seo was the most gentle and caring man I had ever met, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’d cry every time we watched Marley and Me. That man could never be capable of committing a crime.

“It’s your fault...and I’m going to make you pay. Kyungsoo was the first step in my plan-”

“I think that’s enough Junmyeon.” Kyungsoo’s voice cut him off.

I raised my head at the sound of his voice, seeing him standing in the doorway through my tears, “Soo…”

He gave me a sad smile, taking in my current state, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

I reached out for him but stopped myself as Junmyeon’s words bounced off the walls of my head, ‘Kyungsoo was the first step in my plan…’ I let my hand fall to the bed, watching his face fall at the action. He went to take a step towards me but froze at Junmyeon’s next words.

“Is Kyungsoo really your inside man...or was he mine from the start?” He asked with a smirk.

And with that he turned on his heel, bumping his shoulder with Chanyeol’s who had been standing off to the side quietly this whole time. I stared at Kyungsoo wide eyed, praying that my thoughts were wrong, that he wasn’t a part of Junmyeon’s plan. I prayed to all that was holy that he didn’t betray me, not him anything but him. He was the only man I had let myself fall for after Junseo and to think he had never meant any of his feeling for me and this was all a part of some damned plan to kill me... I couldn’t bare the thought of him being a part of it.

“Y/N I-”

“Kyungsoo let’s go.” Junmyeon said from the hall, cutting him off.

Kyungsoo looked torn on what to do but seeing that look on his face was all the confirmation I needed but still...I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt...I never knew it’d be wasted on him though.

“Soo...don’t. If you leave I-”

“I’m sorry Y/N...believe me I am…” He said, the tone of his voice making my heart sink to the pit of my stomach.

He turned on his heel, about to leave but Chanyeol stopped him, grabbing onto his arm roughly, “Next time I see you Do I swear to you I’m putting a bullet in your head.”

I hung my head forward, unable to keep it up as I stared down at my hands blankly. The tears were now falling in a steady stream down my face. I felt like my whole world had completely shattered. Everything I knew about the men I loved was a lie. Junseo wasn’t the man I had thought he was and Kyungsoo...Kyungsoo just proved I hadn’t even really known him from the start.

-Kyungsoo’s P.O.V-

As soon as I left the room I heard her sobs, my heart breaking in two. I wanted to turn back and go to her but I knew I couldn’t. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, following after Junmyeon in silence. I knew I had to hold myself back but I couldn’t, not when I knew he had thrown Junseo’s death in her face when it was still a difficult subject for her.

“Did you really have to bring up Junseo’s death?” I asked in a low voice, trying to control my anger.

“She had to know it was her fault.”

I said nothing afterwards, knowing that anything I said wouldn’t work in my favor. I didn’t want to be in his presence any longer as placed my helmet on my head and went straight for the stairs, “I’ll see you back at the house.”

He said nothing, the door closing behind me as I went down to the parking lot where I left my motorcycle. I had to go somewhere before going back to the house and I’d get there faster on my own. Besides, if Junmyeon knew where I was going he’d never allow it. I had to leave some sort of explanation to Y/N, I couldn’t just let things fall apart just like that.

-

I parked my bike in the garage, sitting on it for awhile as I stared off into space. I hoped she’d believe what I had written to her. I really did love her more than anything, I could see why Junseo gave up his life for her. If worse comes to worse I wouldn’t think twice about giving up my own life for her. I sighed heavily, pulling my helmet off my head and hung it on the handle of the bike. I pulled my gloves off my hands, slipping out of my jacket and headed inside.

Once inside I knew immediately that something was wrong. Before I could think to react I heard the sound of something whipping through the air, a yelp of pain leaving my lips at the hit I received to the leg. I fell to my knees  but before I could get back up I felt something hard hit my back. I fell face first onto the floor, groaning out at the pain I felt. Within the next second I felt multiple things hitting my body at once, my limbs screaming out in agony. I curled up into a ball to try and protect myself as much as I could but it was no use. By the time they stopped I was bleeding from my nose as I coughed up blood, a small puddle starting to form by my mouth. I let out a grunt of pain when I felt a foot on the back of my head, forcing my face into the floor.

“Just how much of an idiot do you take me for?” Junmyeon asked.

At hearing his voice above me I knew that it was his foot on the back of my head. I froze right then and there, not wanting to anger him further.

“You think I wouldn’t find out about you sneaking off to leave your bitch a letter?”

My heart sank at his words, knowing I had been caught red handed. I was sure that nobody had followed me but knowing him he probably had one of the guys staking out her house. He knew all along that I was going to head over there but instead of stopping me he let me get away with it, or at least that’s what he wanted me to think. He put more pressure on the back of my head, the pain becoming unbearable.

“I’m going to give you an ultimatum and you’re going to give me the answer I want to hear, do you understand?” He asked, his voice gravely serious.

He seemed annoyed when I didn’t answer, removing his foot from my head, kicking at my stomach instead, “Do you understand?”

I spit out the blood that was in my mouth, looking up at him, “I understand.”

“Good,” He said with a fake smile plastered on his face as he crouched down in front of me, “Now back to that ultimatum I was talking about. You kill Y/N yourself to show me how loyal you are, refuse and I’ll kill you and I kill her anyway. Though I won’t be so quick about it, I’ll make sure to take my sweet time with her.”

I couldn’t help but clench my jaw at his words. The bastard knew what he was doing. I either agree to kill her myself or he kills us both, either way she dies. Junmyeon chuckled at the look on my face, reaching over to place a hand on my shoulder.

“I’d really hate to have to kill you. You are one of my best after all. So what do you say? You’ll do it right?”

I looked away, already regretting the words that were going to come out of my mouth but I had something up my sleeve, it was just a matter if Y/N believed me or not, “Yes sir.”

[fidgetnano19]

Day 3, Part 3: “Now? Now you listen  to me?”

Translations

Pasenro: I said I’d explain this later, right? Maiti’s the perfect example. A pasenro is a high elf who left their strict society and set off on their own, or was exiled. They usually end up as hermits (like Maiti) or make small societies.

Griaria, 4 years ago

Brexton blinked his eyes open, feeling like he hadn’t slept in years. Every part of him ached… No, not ached… It was more like a numb, throbbing sensation. Not quite painful, but definitely unpleasant.

“And he’s back…” Above him Maiti clapped her hands together, grinning down at him.

So, it got this bad…

He did his best to smile appreciatively at the Pasenro. “Thanks for coming all this way…” he mumbled, his head still foggy from sleep. “What would we do without you?”

“You would have been fine in a few days, but he wouldn’t have fared nearly as well.” Maiti shook her head, the smile on her face fading quickly. “As it was, I’d say he had maybe a few minutes left. If that.”

“He?” Brexton turned, suspecting he knew exactly who she was talking about, but telling himself that it couldn’t be true.

Sure enough, Cross was curled up on the bed beside him, his face buried into Brexton’s side. It was almost like any other morning that he woke up next to Cross, except, of course, that today was much different. Much worse.

“What was he doing here?” Brexton demanded, putting some much needed space between himself and the boy.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not asking you.” Brexton had no interest in Maiti’s answer. She wouldn’t know what happened, anyhow.

He sat up, craning his neck to see around her, to the man standing behind her, trying to avoid looking his way.

“Why was he here?” he demanded, sounding the words out slowly in an attempt to keep his temper in check, mostly because Cross was still close enough to get caught in the crossfire if he lost control again.

“I told him to stay away. I even got him his own room, so he wouldn’t have a reason to be in here, but…” Noe shook his head, refusing to finish the explanation.

“His own room?” Brexton stood unsteadily, despite Maiti trying to coax him back on the bed. “You tried to make him sleep alone?”

“Brexton, you shouldn’t be standing, yet”, she whispered, resting a hand on his shoulder, but he ignored her, taking several shaky steps toward Noe.

“Do you have any idea how… You’ve never seen what it’s like for him, what he goes through every single night.” Brexton was trembling now, adrenaline coursing through his veins so strongly that it made his stomach turn, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You tried to make him sleep alone? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“The bed wasn’t big enough, and Finn was–”

“Finny can sleep alone. She gets that option, because she hasn’t been through what he has.” Brexton felt bad for bringing her into it, and he knew she’d also been through a lot, especially lately, but he couldn’t help but notice that Noe had managed to keep her safe all night.

“Don’t yell at me. I’m the one who told you not to come in the first place. If you had just listened to me, then none of this would have happened.”

“If I had list…” Brexton laughed. He laughed because he couldn’t believe how absurd Noe’s feeble exuse was, and because if he didn’t laugh, he would punch him right in his stupid face. “What did I tell you? If I get bad, keep the whelps away and get Maiti here!”

“I tried to–”

“Oh, you tried? You didn’t try hard enough did you?! He could have FUCKING died!”

“You need to calm down.” Noe’s voice was calm and even, but there was an edge to it that only served to make Brexton more furious.

He stormed past Noe, recognising that he was in no condition to take him on, and swung his fist, slamming it into the mirror over the dresser. The glass shattered, digging into his knuckles.

“Brex!” Maiti hurried to his side, trying to get a grip on his arm so she could heal him, but he yanked himself out of her reach.

“Don’t! I want it to hurt…”

Behind them, Cross groaned, rolling over in the bed.

“He should wake up, soon.”

He was sure Maiti meant to reassure him, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was face the pup. Not now, and maybe not ever again.

“Tell him… Tell him something, I don’t know.” Brexton sighed, tucking his injured hand against his chest and hurrying out of the room, before Cross could spot him there.

“I can’t believe he’s blaming me for this”, he could hear Noe saying before the door closed.

…

Brexton sat on the beach, soaking his bloody hand in the salty water. The pain was fading, no matter how badly he wanted to hold on to it, to drown in it and never resurface.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I just wanted to…

It didn’t matter what his intentions were, the fact was that everything was ruined now. All his big plans amounted to nothing – as usual.

Serves me right for trying.

“Brext?” Cross approached him carefully, an unneeded reminder that he was something to be feared.

A monster…

“How’d you find me?”

Cross plopped down in the sand beside him, even though he wished the whelp would keep his distance. It would be better that way, safer. It was what he deserved.

“You’re drawn to water, same as me.” Cross shrugged his slender shoulders, taking a blade out of his pocket and using it to draw designs in the sand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

No.

It wasn’t fair to decide that on his own, though. After all, Cross was the one who’d nearly been killed, all because he couldn’t control his powers. The least he could do was hear him out.

“I was surpised. I thought–” Cross’s voice cracked, but he sighed and went on. “I thought you’d be there when I woke up.”

Really? Of all the things to be upset about, that was the one he chose? It made Brexton mad all over again, mad at himself for what he’d done, and now for not being there when Cross needed him. He’d acted selfishly, and in the process he only hurt him more.

He had no way to deal with that anger, so he did the only thing he could – the absolute worst thing he could.

“Did it at any point occur to you to go get help?” He wanted this to be Cross’s fault, desperate to blame anyone but himself. “That maybe you were in over your head?”

Cross dropped the blade in the sand, drawing his knees up to curl in on himself. “Of course I did. I– I tried, but… but you wouldn’t let me go.”

‘I tried’.

It was the only answer anyone was inclined to give him today, and frankly he was getting sick of hearing it.

“Before that!” Brexton growled, finally turning his head to look at him.

“I don’t know …”

If he didn’t know, then who did? Wasn’t he the only one there? The only one in control of his own thoughts?

“Think hard, pup.”

“Maybe…” Cross squeaked, hugging his legs tighter. “Yes.”

Ice water filled Brexton’s veins, but he fought to control it. He was always fighting, and it was getting exhausting. “Why didn’t you?”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to blame Cross for what happened, and he knew that. On the other hand, if the stubborn mutt had only listened to Noe, then everything would have been fine.

“What the fuck were you trying to prove, pulling a stunt like that?”

Cross shook his head, his mouth opening to answer, but no sound coming out.

“Answer me!”

“I wanted to…” Tears rolled down his cheeks, but Brexton was in too deep now, too lost in his self-righteous fury to care. “I wanted you to see that I can be strong, too. That I can 'bear it’.”

His stomach churned, because now he knew for a fact that he had no one else to blame for this but himself. His constant pushing, his attempts to make Cross strong enough to handle the shitty life that had been thrust upon him, and protect himself when Brexton wasn’t around, those things were exactly what had nearly got him killed.

“Now? Now you listen to me?”

“I thought I could be strong, and– and that for once I could take care of you. I… I just– just wanted you to be proud of me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Yeah, well you failed pretty spectacularly, didn’t you?” He curled his fist, squeezing drops of blood through the raw flesh. “You want me to be proud of you? Then stop acting like a damn child! You think that was being strong? There’s a difference between being strong and endangering yourse–”

That’s exactly what I did!

He rubbed his forehead, realising that the person who really needed to hear this lecture wasn’t the boy sitting beside him.

“I’m sorry, Brext. I didn’t mean for this to…”

Brexton reached his arm out, wrapping it around Cross and yanking him until he was pressed against his side.

“Stop, don’t apologise. This one’s on me, I knew I was getting sick, and I knew what could happen if it got bad, but I still came. I told myself that it was for your sake, but I think that I, fuck…” He swallowed hard, tucking his face into the whelp’s shaggy hair. “Maybe I just wanted to believe that you needed me here. I got greedy, because no one else has ever looked up to me before, and that felt–”

“Finn looks up to you, too.”

“No, Finny looks up to her version of me… This, this idol she has built up in her head.” Brexton frowned, wondering if he was explaining it well enough, or if it even made any sense in the first place. “You’re the only one who’s seen me – the real me, and still thinks there’s something worthwhile there, that I’m someone worth admiring.”

“Of course you are! I,” Cross squirmed away, until there was enough distance between them to look Brexton in the face. “I want to be just like you.”

The words struck him hard, knocking the air out of his lungs. He stared at the whelp, speechless.

There were about a million things he could think of to say, but the only one that came out was, “Just be yourself, pup.”

Cross didn’t answer, but his stomach growled loudly, spoiling the moment.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Um…” He watched Cross chew his lip, trying to remember. Finally, the whelp shook his head, ducking sheepishly. “At least a day or two.” It was a lie, which meant it had been much longer than he was letting on – probably dangerously long.

Brexton stood, brushing the sand off of his trousers, and held out his hand to the pup. “Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.”

Cross took his hand, letting Brexton pull him to his feet. He tried to let go once he was standing, but Brexton held on tight, shaking his head. “Let’s just stay like this, alright?”