#ALSO PD MENTION IN THE ROLLED

[girl-hwat]

rip BIG SHOT animation meme, troy lougferd is made for you

[theelmoarchive]

Hello tumblr it's been a bit 🔥🔥

I made this like a month ago when i was only halfway through PD season 2, but I actually just finished it completely so it's a little outdated-

Might update in the future who knows

They're all trans btw, if you cant tell 🫶

Ghostknife and William bonus

[marzs-jrwi-thoughts]

oh, first mention of wonderlust home game ure so precious to me....

[maybaankk]

⠀ roses n thorns ⠀⠀﹒⠀　a.h x reader

this work includes / may include : rossi!reader, age gap (8 years), reader was born in 1979, aaron was born in 1971, reader is heavily italian, reader works at the bau, angst, rude!aaron because hes a sucker and doesnt know how to come to terms that he likes Y/N, fluff at the end, canon typical violence, fem!afab reader, reader is literally a ball of sunshine, religion mentions.

summary : when Y/N Rossi joins the bau at the recommendation of her father; aaron hotchner cant possibly see past the fact that she is far too happy to be in this field.

wc: 11.2k

The first thing aaron hotchner notices about Y/N is the smile plastered on her face and the box of canolis’ in her hands as she greets her new coworkers; he stares from his office window, arms crossed over his chest.

When the girl makes a b-line for his office a heavy grumble leaves his chest, he expects her to barge right in, but instead; she knocks and waits there patiently, holding the box of canolis’ in her hands.

He answers the door and she looks up to meet his gaze, that same sickly sweet smile plastered on her face, it makes his stomach turn and his chest feels like thousands of thorns are encircling it; he had only ever felt this way about Haley, and that was when he was in private school.

“Ah! SSA Hotchner right? my father said you’re the boss of this place.. he also told me that you like his canoli recipe.. so i uh, prepared a box of them last night” She smiles, and he can recognise that heavy twinge of italian in her voice, much like he can her fathers.

“Yes. That’s me, and you’re Y/N Rossi, correct?” He grumbles, and she notices how uncomfortable he looks, her brain flooding with thoughts before she stops herself; she’s not even been in the building an hour and she’s already accidentally profiled her new boss.

“Yes sir, that’s me.. where should i place these?” She squeaks, almost nervously, the confidence she once carried herself with dissipating into nothing, the smile also dropping from her face, in exchange for a nervous bite of her lip.

“The break room fridge, agent. it’s down the mezzanine to the left.” His arms still crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the woman in front of him; watching as she walks away.

“Thankyou sir, i’ll be on my way now, goodbye” She mutters, and he could wear he heard her voice crack as she left.

He starts to feel bad, but he can’t place his finger on why, but when you leave, the thorns in his chest slowly unwind themself, and he’s at ease once more.

In the roundtable room, you take your seat inbetween your father and your newfound friend Emily Prentiss, you engage in friendly chatter as everyone filters in; and eventually the brightly and beautifully dressed tech analyst, Penelope takes the remote, clicking it to show the photos of 4 men, all without their eyes and a cross carved into their left thighs.

“These men were found in alleyways all over arkansas last week; the local PD didn’t think much of it until they got.. this letter” She pauses before a note on worn lined paper flashes up, an intricate rose stamped onto it.

You speak up, gesturing to the crosses on the men’s thighs; your father looking at you approvingly; “Those aren’t christian crosses.. they’re upside down those are petrine crosses, more recently dubbed the saint peters cross, it’s possible the killer believes he’s not high enough next to god to carve a christian cross; as peter crucified himself upside down because he believed he wasn’t as worthy as jesus..”

Hotch only stares as Spencer nods at youe statement, chiming in “Y/N is correct; he may believe that these killings are for god, and that they’re messages.”

And then penelope shows something else on screen; “Well.. it gets so much worse, my religious geniuses, because their eyes were found near them with bronze chains next to them..”

Hotch finally pipes up, asking the table for input and he rolls his eyes when you pipe up again.

“That’s similar to Jeremiah 39:7.. Zedekiah watched his sons be put to death and then his eyes were put out where he was bound with bronze chains and he was dragged to babylon..” You wince at the cold eyes of hotch as you look at Emily; she only shrugs her shoulders.

When you and Emily arrive at the latest crime scene of the victim, you lift the tape; stepping under it and holding it for your partner, you greet the local detective at the scene.

“Hello i’m Agent Y/N Rossi, and this is Agent Emily prentiss..” you smile, though it’s not as bright as the ones you extended to your coworkers, afterall you’re at the resting place of a victim.

“Detective Peter Warner, Fayetteville PD.” The slightly shorter man speaks as he shakes your hand.

“Do you know anything about who found the body, and when? we weren’t briefed on that..” Emily asks, and you nod, crouching down at one of the evidence cards, shifting one of the bronze chains, your eyes widening.

“Emily! cmere look, theres.. theres a- oh holy fuck!!” You jump when you realise what you had touched was a slab of skin, specifically with a rose tattoo on it.

“What?! oh what the.. is that the victims skin??” She crouches next to you, picking up the dirt and pebble covered flesh in her hands.

“Yeah- it it’s.. wait a second; let me call up the office real quick..” You mutter, stepping back to make a call as emily requests an ice bag.

“This is SSA Derek morgan, what’s poppin’ sweetcheeks?” His voice rings out, and you roll your eyes softly.

“Ha-ha Derek.. anyway, do you know if any slices of flesh where found at the crime scene.. or if any of the victims had rose tattoos?” You ask, looking back as Emily holds up the bag with the flesh in, you grimace.

“Uhh.. yeah; they all had rose tattoos.. why’d ya ask?” Derek chimes over the phone, you can hear the chatter of the department over the phone.

“Well me and Emily just found a piece of flesh from the victim, with a rose tattoo on it.. i believe this might mean something to the unsub, maybe something religious again.. we’ll be back at the station soon” You walk back over to Emily, sighing softly as you get back into the SUV.

Back at the station you lean over the files, biting your lip softly; staring at the tattoos of the victims, all cut off with a razor blade.

“Hey, papa can you come over here for a second?” You call out to your father, and it feels like recently everywhere your father goes that pertains to you and the case, Hotch follows.

“Which bible verse was about roses and brides.. was it Song of Solomon 2:1-2?” You mutter softly, tapping the end of your pen on your lip.

“Why yes Picolla Mia; it does.. the bride replies-”

“I am the rose of Sharon and lily of the valley..” You cut him off, immediately dialling up Penleope; your brows knitted together tightly as you exhale.

“Office of Unfettered Omniscience. Penelope Garcia is in. Speak, oh fortunate one.” Penelope Answers, and a small giggle escapes your mouth.

“Hiya penny it’s Y/N.. can you search the names of the wives of all four men for me?” You speak, hearing her hum in approval.

“Sunshine, I can run marriage certificates from here and still participate in simultaneous Tetris tournaments.” She hums, you snicker again.

“Okay.. are any of them named Sharon and Lily?” You ask, and Garcia gasps.

“Oh my god what a freaky coincidence.. yes- All of them are named Sharon and lily..” She sounds scared, and you look at the brooding figure of your boss behind you.

“and where they married for number’s with 1 & 2 in them?” Your voice quavers softly, writing it down quickly in your cursive handwriting.

“yes.. victim one- Hector Mariposa was married to Sharon Mariposa for 21 years.. victim two- Nikita Ivan was married to Lily Ivan for 12 years.. victim three- vitores fausto was married to Sharon Lily Fausto for 1 and 2 months at his time of death. and victim four- Abram Katz, to his wife Lily for 12 years..” She sounds like shes going to puke.

After 6 more gruellingly tension, religious and gore filled days you finally caught the unsub, Brian Vitores; a schizophrenic tattoo artist and ordained officiant.

He would tattoo the men he killed, and them weasel his way into the lives, and he had in turn ended up officiating their weddings, because he was close to them; at first it was a coincidence they all had rose tattoos and wives named Sharon and Lily, and their dates contained the numbers 1 and 2.

But when his religious psychosis began, he believed he should kill them for god, because only god would bless them with such wives.

On the plane back home, you slumped into your seat, staring at the roof as you hear Hotch over the other side of the plane, you frown softly as he seems so free and happy with the others.

You stand and pour yourself a glass of red wine, sitting back in your seat as you sip on it, starting to read your book with your headphones in.

And before you knew it, you had landed; you pick up your bags, but not before Hotch stops you, you look up at him, not with the same smile you once had during your first encounter.

“Agent Y/N, we need to talk about your workplace condcut. you cannot be laughing during such a serious moment, especially not in the middle of the station.” He says to you, and you feel tears well in your eyes, you dab them away subtly.

“Yes sir, I apologise.” You speak solomnly, and you push past him, walking to your car in the parking lot, quickly sliding into the seat, turning it on and beginning the drive home.

In your head you can’t tell yourself why your boss seems to dislike you so much, you can feel your phone buzzing in the cup holder, it’s JJ.

“Hiya JJ- i’m on my way home, what’s wrong?” You sigh, pulling up into the driveway of your home, locking your car as you sit and talk to JJ.

“We were going to invite you out for drinks, me and rest of the team but we couldn’t find you anywhere.. are you okay?” She asks, her voice concerned and confused.

“Y-yeah.. i just, had a bad encounter with Hotch on the plain, he uhm. doesn’t seem to like me all too much.” You whimper, tears smudging your mascara down your face.

“Yeah.. me, em and spence noticed that, i’m not sure what he’s doing at all.. i’m so sorry girl..” She say’s empathetically.

“I don’t know either, but he got quite angry that i laughed at how penelope answers her phone so i just left without a word..”

At your fathers house, it’s a pasta night and everyone from the BAU is gathered in the kitchen, you however already know how to cook this meal, and so you’re upstairs getting ready for the night.

You walk down the stairs, adorned in your designer attire, your hair curled, everyone’s eyes land on you as you pad over to stand next to Penleope.

By the time everyone has finished the pasta and a the glasses of whiskey and wine are flowing, you can only fees his eyes on you, and by his you mean aaron.

Being followed to the bathroom and cornered by him was also not on tonights bingo card but here he is, cornering you in a hallway.

“Listen Y/N you’re driving me crazy and i- i wanted to apologise for how horrible i’ve been toward you..” he mutters, his big hands moving to yours.

“It’s quite alright sir-” You mutter, desperately avoiding the eye contact he’s trying to engage in.

“Please, call me aaron..” He speaks, his voice softer now, he squeezes your hand gently too.

“I haven’t felt this way since i was a dumb teenager in private school.. and by this way i mean that i like you, Y/N Rossi.” He blurts out, and that makes you look at him now.

“I- i’m inclined to say i like you too, aaron.. you’re extremely handsome..” you admit, blush coating your face in a deep red tone.

“If you’ll allow me.. i’d like to take you on a date soon.. possibly wednesday, next week.” Aaron speaks, now holding your waist, his hands bigger than your waist by a long shot.

“Yes- i’d love to go on a date with you, Aaron.. wednesday sounds perfect.” You smile, and then it was set, you figured out why your boss hated you, he didn’t, he was just lovesick and confused.

Authors note: Hello my lovelies, this is my second fanfic in two days.. i’m finally out of writers block; so here’s something for my coworker enemies to lovers fans and my aaron fans :3

[thegirlwholovesficcharacters]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑳𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 Evan "Buck" Buckley x shy!Femreader!

Summary: In where y/n write Love Letters and send to her crush in a anonymously way, and thanks to eddie magic, she ends up revealing her identity as Buck's secret admirer.

Words: 2.201 Warnings: Mentions of insecurities, misunderstandings, attempts to make funny dialogues, a lot of fluff, buck being a cutie and eddie being a annoying best friend. Cursive are for her thoughts.

Autor's Note: Hello!. English is not my first language, and I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, you may find translation errors since I have little knowledge of English and mostly use Google Translate.

PD: There will be a second part because it was too long, and I want to keep it as one shots. Also, I think i got a little sidetracked with the love letter theme, but I liked how it turned out. What do you think?.

Y/n wasn't sure how this crush started. But she was sure of one thing, and she like Evan Buckley, a lot.

His smile, his hair, the ways he trated the kids when they come for a excursion his ambition for the ciencie and the silly moments he made when the team is working. There was so many things she likes about him, but she was so shy and scary of talk to him, even if he was the one who talk to her on the recess, she always find a way to run and hide, not because she doens't wanted to talk to him.

She was trying not to say anything emabarrassing in front of him or the team.

So, to convey all his feelings and thoughts, she had started writing love letters secretly. A rather romantic and old-fashioned way for her taste, but it helped her clear her mind. She felt like Lara Jean of all the boys I fell in love with, but instead, she didn't have five cards for different boys.

No, she had written too many letters only for one boy.

Letters that she sent him anonymously, she did not dare to tell him what she felt in person, she was not sure if he felt the same as her, but she was sure of one thing, and that was that, every time Buck opened his admirer's letters a big smile invaded his face. And y/n couldn't help but feel how her heart warmed up and began to beat uncontrollably every time she saw his smile.

That damn beautiful smile.

"You know, you can take a photo of it so it lasts longer" Eddie appeared in front of her wearing a mocking smile, almost amused at seeing his partner and friend's cheeks turn red as she was caught admiring the Buckley boy.

"Shut up Diaz" She muttered embarrassed as she was caught by her friend.

Eddie chuckled, setting a cup of hot coffee on the table right in front of her, the girl murmuring a soft thank you before blowing on the liquid and drinking some of the coffee.

"So…" He spoke looking at her, she raised an eyebrow.

"So what?" She asked.

He rolled his eyes.

"When are you going to tell him? You know…" He commented, surreptitiously pointing at Buck, who was leaning against the kitchen counter reading the letter with a stupid smile on his face.

Y/n stopped herself from smiling at Buck's cute image, she looked back into her friend's eyes and quickly denied knowing what he was referring to.

"I'm not ready yet." She wrinkled her nose, leaving the cup on the table. "Besides, I don't think I'm his type. Girls like me almost never date guys like him." She spoke, pointing between her partner and herself.

Hearing her, Eddie couldn't help but grimace and shake his head. He sat next to her and looked at her with a small sparkle in his eyes.

"Darling, we've already talked about that. You know you're beautiful just the way you are, right? Everyone knows that." The girl couldn't help but feel her cheeks burn.

"It's easy for you to say it, because you are my teammates and friends. But it's different when it comes to the person I like" She murmured towards him, Eddie sighed knowing very well what she meant.

He had known Y/N since he arrived at the station, she was one of the many people who introduced herself and offered him friendship, she helped him adapt to his new life in the city, and when he felt safe he introduced her to Christopher and Gosh, that kid adored the adorable woman in front of him. Eddie knew that his friend had insecurities about her body since she was young, she confessed it to him one night after going out to a bar with the team and Eddie had to take care of her, he let her stay at his house and hugged her when she started to cry.

If there was something that firefighter Díaz hated, it was seeing his best friend cry because of the bad comments about her body, about her thick thighs, her wide back, the stretch marks and especially her stomach, y/n wasn't skinny or tall, she had a medium build and a height of 1'60.

Eddie always made sure to make her feel comfortable when they had to train or helped her practice boxing.

He offered her a shoulder to cry on and his ears to listen to her, but he knew that no matter how hard he tried to help her overcome her insecurities, he had to give her space, he was one of the first to know her story. He was the first one she went to when she needed help with her car, he was the first to see her cry, the first to support her in her little secret about the anonymous letters and the first to know about her crush on Evan Buckley.

And Eddie Díaz promised himself to protect her from everything bad, even if it was the Golden Retriever he had as a best friend, Buck.

Eddie let out a small sigh before speaking.

"Hey, I was thinking..."And just as he was going to speak, the station's sirens started wailing.

Both friends looked at each other and got up at the same time, leaving their cups on the table to go with the rest of their companions and get on the pumper.

The moment 118 arrived at the emergency scene, the group of firefighters began to do their work, and y/n was next to Eddie looking for anyone who was trapped inside the house destroyed by a fire.

Although right now she would prefer the company of hen or chimney, so as not to have to listen to her friend's chatter about her crush on evan buckley.

"I'm just saying, you could, I don't know. Ask him out? Like coworkers?" Y/n rolled her eyes when she heard him.

"Stop it, Eddie. I'm not going to tell him yet. And I don't think he'll accept it."She responded in an irritated tone, both friends continued walking and checking every corner". Also, what could I say to-"Without looking down, Y/N quickly stumbled, falling sideways to the ground.

"Shit"

Eddie, like a good friend he is, laughed first and then a few seconds later helped her up, earning an annoyed grunt from her when she heard him laugh.

"Be careful darling." Y/n thanked him with a gesture and stood up, shaking her uniform.

Rememberyng what she was about to say, a big smile invaded in eddie face.

Oh no, not that horrible smile, she say mentally knowing tht smile was dangerous.

"Go on, tell him what? What would you ask?" A mocking smile appeared on Eddie's lips and she rolled her eyes. "Tell meeee, oh, practice with me!" He begged in a low voice without removing his mocking tone.

She looked at him, confused by his request, until she saw the playful glint in his eyes and finally understood what he meant.

For heaven's sake, someone kill me, she thought internally. Knowing that he would not stop bothering her, she decided to do it.

"Okay, okay. Here I go." She swallowed, she looked at her friend and feeling brave, she placed one of her hands on his shoulder.

Observing that gesture, Eddie raised an eyebrow and prevented himself from letting out a laugh.

"Hey, handsome I've been in love with you for along time, and I wanted to ask you, do you want to go on a date with me?" She asked in a seductive tone while batting her eyelashes, and earning a laugh from the firefighter which he muffled when he felt her hand hit his chest.

Avoiding a laugh, Eddie composed himself and looked at her with a seductive little smile.

"Yes, I would love to go out with you, my beautiful and hot firefighter" He answered in the same tone as her, avoiding breaking down with laughter, she rolled her eyes but still smiled."Would you like to move to second base tonight, doll?”He mocks by throwing kisses into the air.

"Oh my god, shut up!, you asshole!" She exclaimed hiting eddie's chest. Eddie just looked at her and laugh, not feeling offended by her insult.

Ignoring eddie's laugh, she give a one last look around, she sighed when she saw that there was nothing left to rescue.

"There's nothing here ed" she muttered to her partner, she looked in her pocket for her walkie tokie, when she found it she press the button "Captain Nash. Here firefighter Y/L/N, there's nothing left, no one else, or anything to rescue. Just charred wood" Spoke to her captain.

"Okay, Firefighter Y/L/N. You can get back in the truck, the patients are already on their way to the hospital" Their captain announced from the other side, both firefighters nodded to themselves.

"Copy that, cap." With that, she cut off the transmission and followed Eddie out of that destroyed house.

As soon as they reached the group and began to return to the station, Eddie spent the entire trip giving his friend mocking glances every time he saw her look and pay attention to what Buck was saying, clearly, y/n ignored his friend and she gave hall full attention to his partner, who was talking animatedly about a fact about reptiles he found on a website.

Eddie, who was next to Chim, pushed his shoulder next to his, drawing his attention. Having Chimney's attention, Eddie surreptitiously pointed to Buck and Y/N.

They both looked at each other and smiled knowingly, Eddie might know about her secret of the anonymous letters, but for the team, it wasn't a secret that Y/N liked Buck. That is to say, how obvious could she be and how blind could he be to not notice.

"Hey buck" Eddie called, when he heard his friend he stopped talking and looked at him confused "I heard that your anonymous admirer sent you a letter, any clue as to who it could be?" He asked feigning interest, at the mention of the letter, Buck smiled goofily.

Seeing his goofy smile, y/n smiled the same way at seeing him smile, completely ignoring the amused looks her coworkers were giving her.

"Well, I haven't started my search yet. But I think I have one" he commented to his friend. Eddie looked at him curiously and nodded.

"Really? What did you find?" Chimney asked this time.

Having the eyes of his companions on him, Buck felt his cheeks heat up and let out a small laugh.

"Well, the letters have beautiful handwriting and every time I open them a scent of lily perfume comes out. So, I guess the clue is that this person uses lily perfume" He explained, remembering exactly the smell of the perfume.

Y/n watched Eddie smile at her teasingly.

"Oh, wow. That's a great clue, buck," Eddie commented, Buck smiled and nodded energetically. "I guess you need help looking for more clues, right?" He smiled innocently at his friend.

Buck seemed to think about it. "Well, I-"

"Great. Because I have the best at solving mysteries" He spoke, the group looked at him raising an eyebrow and y/n wanted to hang from the ceiling of her apartment with toilet paper.

Buck smiled excitedly. "Really? Who?" He asked curiously without removing his excitement.

Eddie tilted his head and flashed a huge smile at his friend.

Oh no. Why me? Why me? She lamented to herself as she noticed his plan.

“Y/n, dear?” He called, ignoring the knowing smiles of hen, chimney, and bobby, y/n looked innocently at her friend and smiled fakely.

"Yes, Eddie?" She asked, getting the girl's attention he smiled.

"You're one of the best at mystery board games, maybe you could help Buck with his little anonymous mystery?" He asked in a neutral tone, pretending not to know what he was getting into.

"I...uh, well I think..." she stammered, scratching the back of her neck nervously as she felt their gazes.

She moved her head in the Buckley boy's direction. Big mistake. y/n couldn't help but feel the little tug her heart gave as she saw his blue eyes shine with a little hope.

Damn, why does he give me that look?

Feeling too much pressure from her friend's teasing gaze and her crush's hopeful eyes, y/n let out a quiet sigh and nodded.

"Yes, of course. Why not?" I accepted with a nervous smile, Buck smiled excitedly.

"Cool! Thank you so much, y/n!" The blonde thanked his partner without removing his huge smile.

Y/n could feel how that smile made her melt inside.

Across the seat, Eddie smiled proudly to himself, completely ignoring his friend's murderous look.

Damn you edmuno.

And damn Evan Buckley's beautiful wet puppy eyes.

And above all, damn the huge crush I have on Evan Buckley

Y/n was screwed, and it was all thanks to Eddie "Fuckin" Diaz.

What a asshole.

[justmeinadaze]

Created a Monster (Steddie X Kas Y/N)

Every time I hear this song this idea pops into my head but it's not what I'm used to writing per say. I wanted you guys to read like a preview and tell me if this is something you'd want more of or a one shot. Or whatever lol Just some feed back :) It's been sitting in my WIP forever but I can't stop thinking about it.

Warning: Steddie X Kas Fem Reader, mentions of grief and how much the boys miss her, I twisted some things from the show obviously. Instead of Eddie fighting, Y/N does. I also read up a bit on Kas so took some lore there. Not really expanded on in this preview but...

Word Count: 1956

Eddie and Steve stare at your gravestone as the preacher continues to spout some nonsense about young souls being angels on Earth and being called back home. No one understood what they were going through not even their friends they had fought with. You were their everything and now… you were gone. 

Steve and Robin sat in the cafeteria of the hospital picking at their food as they waited for Eddie to join them. For the past four months they had been visiting Max while continuing to be moral support for Lucas. Neither boy would let on how jealous they actually were of the former Hellfire member. At least he could still hold his girlfriend’s hand…see her face…kiss her cheek.

“The doctor’s said she’s showing improvement.”, Robin mused as she took a bite of bland rice in front of her. 

“That’s good. She’s a good kid who’s been through too much. She deserves to have a full life.”

His friend nods in understanding, scanning Steve over before reaching for his hand. 

“This is a stupid question but how are you doing?”

“I’m, um, I’m surviving. Eddie’s trying to keep it together for the guys but we’re both kind of floundering.”, he chuckles as he places his fork down and leans back. “I miss her laugh. Every time Munson would tell a joke, she would close her eyes and scrunch her nose… so cute.”

“Yeah, she was.”, his friend softly murmured. “She loved you two more than anything. Y/N would talk about you both nonstop to an annoying degree.”

When Robin playfully rolls her eyes, they both laugh almost uncontrollably until his gradually shift into sobs. Rising to her feet, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and in turn he does the same, his fingers digging almost painfully into her back. 

“I miss her so much.”

***

When both boys finally made it back home, Eddie silently flopped down on the couch as he grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. Since your passing, the metalhead had moved into the living room since their apartment only had one bedroom. Without you between them they saw no point in sharing anymore. Steve never said anything to contradict but he wished his friend had stayed. Even though they were never intimate in the dynamic, he would have rather shared a bed with his friend than be alone. It was just more of a reminder that you were gone. 

“Another group of men were found dead today outside of their homes, stabbed through the chest, and with nothing stolen or motive perceived from Hawkins PD. We reached out to reinstated Chief Hopper for comment but at this time none was given.”

“Something we should be worried about you think?”, Steve asked as he came up behind his friend to watch the tv.

“I mean, as long as they aren’t blaming me, I’d say no.”

“It doesn’t seem like Vecna either. No broken bones or eyes caved in—” Rising to his feet, Eddie hastily turned off the tv and reached for his jacket. “Eddie—”

“I agree. No Vecna. I’m, um, I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Is this how it’s always going to be?! Are we just going to be awkward around each other now? She wouldn’t have wanted that, Ed.”

A smooth, sarcastic laugh escaped the metalhead’s lips as he turned to face his friend. 

“Yeah? Well, I wanted her here and she’s fucking dead. We both don’t get what we want.”

“So, you’re just going to sully her memory like that?”

“Oh, fuck you, Harrington! She’s the one that ran off even though I told her not to move. She’s the one that decided to fight instead of listening to you and not being a hero. She’s the one who DIED IN MY FUCKING ARMS!” As his voice cracked, he paused to collect himself. “Y/N’s gone. She doesn’t get a say anymore.”

With that he turned on his heels and slammed the door. 

“He’s always been really hot headed hasn’t he?”, the vision of you giggles as you kick your feet against the counter. 

Steve never told anyone for fear of coming off as insane but this is how he processed you no longer being around; he pretended you weren’t gone.

“Yeah, just like you.”

“Excuse me! I was stubborn but not ‘hot headed’, jerk.”

His head hung at the word “was” as his bottom lip began to tremble. Jumping off the counter, you slide over till you were just inches from his side. Even though you weren’t really there, he swore he could smell you.

“Steve, baby, look at me. He’ll be ok… you both will.”

Shaking his head, he wiped the tears that had begun to fall but when he moved his hands away the image of you disappeared. 

“I love you, honey. I miss you so much.”

############

Eddie pulled his hood over his head as he powerwalked in what he thought was no particular direction. Even after being exonerated people still scowled and hurled insults his way. The ones that hurt him the most were the ones about you. 

Because they couldn’t bring your body back, it was assumed you had died with everyone else. Your family still held on to hope but in the worst way. You parents used to love him and Steve, treating them both like family but after Chrissy’s death everything shifted. They told you to stay away from him and in turn you told them to fuck off. 

Anytime they saw Eddie, they begged him to tell them where you were or where your body was so they could properly grieve. He ignored them as best he could but it killed him because he knew the truth. That’s something he and Nancy could connect on. Every time she told him about her experiences with Barb it comforted him to an extent. He hoped one day he could give them peace like her friend’s parents got. 

Stumbling over his feet, the metalhead finally took note of his surroundings realizing he had walked to Hawkins Cemetery. Sighing heavily, he gave in and let his feet continue to lead him till he was in front of your plot. 

“Y/N Y/L/N. 1986. Loving Friend, Daughter, and Girlfriend.” 

“Fucking basic shit. You were way more than that.”, he grumbled as he took a seat facing your stone. 

“I’m angry with you; so fucking angry. I told you to go up the rope but you insisted I go so I could catch you like Steve had. I should have known better. How could you do that? How could you leave us like that?!”

“I didn’t do it by choice.”, the vision of you replied in a sad but calm tone as you sat on top of your own stone. Eddie’s jaw tightened as he looked in the opposite direction. “Still ignoring me?”

“You’re not real.”

“True…but it helps Steve. At least that’s what you hope after hearing him talk out loud to me the other night. He really hates being alone, you know? He wants to talk to you but—”

“I can’t talk about you with people. Not yet.”

“Ok, then don’t talk about me. Maybe talk about D&D or Steve’s day. Anything else. Eddie, just because I’m gone doesn’t mean you two stop being friends.”

“Don’t preach to me, babe. I don’t want to hear it.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Nothing. That’s all I ever fucking hear now. I don’t hear your stories about work or your family. I don’t hear you laughing at my jokes or your sarcasm when you’re making fun of Steve for his lack of movie knowledge. I don’t hear your fucking breath in the middle of the night when you’re sleeping or see you bite your lip when you’re thinking about something complicated. I don’t feel your fingers in my hair when I’m lying on the floor listening to music or your lips against mine. Why, Y/N? Because you’re fucking DEAD!”

The vision of you watched with sympathetic eyes as his shoulders shook and he sobbed in his hands. After a few minutes, he wiped his nose on his sleeve, finding you sitting cross legged in front of him with your knees inches from his own. 

“I don’t know how to live without you, sweetheart.”

“Eddie… I never loved anyone on this planet as much as I loved you and Steve. If it meant keeping you both safe…I would die again.”

“It was our job to protect you.”

“And you did such an amazing job.”

Shaking his head, he glanced towards a tree in the distance before turning your way to find you gone. 

“I love you, baby.”

################

Steve’s eyes snap open at the sound of glass breaking before quickly grabbing his bat and slowly stalking to the kitchen. 

“Jesus Christ!”

“I just go by Eddie but…” They both exasperatedly laughed as the other boy lowered his weapon. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I just left the cemetery and I didn’t realize it was so fucking late.”

“Did, um, were you going to see her?”

He could have responded sarcastically but your words lingered in his mind. 

“Yeah… I just needed to hash some things out with her.”

“I know how you feel. Sometimes I get really angry at her to but then I get confused because I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Yeah.”, Eddie laughs as well. “Fuck, this sucks.”

As his friend nodded, a shadow on the wall caught the former jocks attention. It looked like a figure but that can’t be right because they were on the fourth floor of their complex. Just as he began to glance to find out what it was, their window shattered causing both men to fall to the ground and cover their heads. 

Steve recovered first, swiftly grabbing his bat and blocking the weapon that begun to swing down towards the metalhead. To his surprise it did stop it but as soon as he pushed the figure back, the bat cut cleanly in half. It took him a few seconds to realize the stranger in front of him was wielding a sword causing him to duck out of the way as the person continued swinging it at him. 

While trying to find something to defend himself with, he heard Eddie call his name and turned just in time to see him slide another sword his way. 

“Isn’t this fake?!”

“Please! We’re nerds! Do you think Y/N and I would buy anything fake!?”

Just as Steve unsheathed the weapon, it clinked loudly against the strangers. Both beings went toe to toe with the pretty boy surprising even himself. He got too cocky, however, lowering his guard just enough for the figure to punch his chest knocking the wind out of him as he fell to the floor. 

The armor the figure was wearing loudly tapped against each other as they stepped forwards and pointed their weapon at Steve’s throat. With wide eyes, he watched as the person took off their helmet and casually tossed it to the ground as their hair fell around their face.

“Y/N?”

The boy whined as you tilted the sharp weapon up towards his chin causing him to stretch his face out of the way. 

“My master sends his regards.”, you hiss as you step back and raise your sword. 

Before you can do anything, something hard collides with your head and you faint to the ground.

“Ok, I’m not dreaming right? Or hallucinating?”, Eddie asked as he reached for Steve’s hand to help him off the ground. 

“No, dude. At least I don’t think so…”

[ebodebo]

The Fugitive

—the cia is going against taskforce 141, making ghost a fugitive. unfortunately, he gets hurt and a detective takes him to a near by hospital, that an old friend happens to work at.

—ghost x f!reader

—2.3k+

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"Hey, Marcey, I don't suppose you could squeeze one in the schedule?" Detective Marsh's voice rang in the matte black Dodge Charger he sat in. 

She huffed out. "John." 

"I know. I know." He quickly supplied, sparing a look to the backseat, where an injured, bleeding Ghost sat. "But, this one is messed up pretty bad." He could feel Marcey roll her eyes. "They usually are "messed up pretty bad." She said, quoting his words.

"Honey." He sighed. "I know the guy. He's a friend." He exhaled. Marcey paused for a moment. "Okay. I have a doctor on rotation who's available." She finally said. "But, this is it. I can't keep doing favors just because your boys flubbed up." 

"And you won't have to anymore because, effective immediately, I'm firing Jensen and Miles." He states. "It's too much Goddamned paperwork. Gives me a headache." He says while bringing one hand to rub his temple, the other gripping the steering wheel. 

"Good for you, boss," Marcey emphasizes the last word, causing Detective Marsh to let out a gruff laugh. "Park in the back when you get here." She stated, swiftly typing on her computer. 

"I'm outside. In the front." He confessed. "Of course you are." Marcey sighed. "I'll be right there." 

Detective Marsh looks up at the rearview mirror, carefully observing Ghost. "Does it hurt?" Detective Marsh questioned.

"What do you think?" Ghost snarkily said, his voice deep and gravely, as he held his bleeding side. Detective Marsh gave him a light laugh. "Stupid question." He confirmed. 

Marcey appeared through the revolving doors that led into the hospital. She carefully knocked on the driver's side of the Dodge, where Detective Marsh sat. 

"You seriously couldn't have parked in the back. You are going to scare my patients." She crosses her arms as she opens his car door. "This was closer. I'm sorry." He said, unbuckling his seatbelt, then stepping out of the car. "He's in the backseat." He opens the backseat, revealing Ghost. 

"Oh my-" Marcey begins inspecting his bloody side before beckoning the two nurses she brought. "What the hell happened?" She questions, hands on her hips, moving aside so the nurses can get him out of the car, though he stubbornly swats them away to get out on his merit. 

"From what I know, the guys were in pursuit, and they found him all bent to hell." He shrugs. 

"That's what they told you? Jensen and Miles?" She skeptically asks as Ghost begrudgingly allows the nurses to get him out of the car. He nods. "I know. I know. I'm going out to get a full report from some pedestrians at the scene." He grips her shoulder a bit. "Might not answer my phone for a bit. I already know the DA got wind of this. So, he's going to be busting my balls and the entire PD's for the next week or so." He kisses her temple before getting back into his car.

"No need to worry, John. We'll take care of him." She smiles.

He smiles back, closing his door. Before he pulls away, he rolls his window down. "Also, I forgot to mention, he's wanted by the CIA, so this place might be swarmed with suits. Love you, bye." He swiftly states as Marcey's face contorts. "Wait. Wha—" she begins, but he pulls off before she can rain her terror on him. 

Marcey curses before she turns to the nurses heading inside the hospital. "Unfortunately, we'll have to take him through the lobby since my husband decided he was too lazy to spring for the extra yards around' the back. Just take him to the OR." Both nurses nod and attempt to grab Ghost. 

"I can walk," he proclaims as he stumbles to the revolving doors. Marcey stares at the nurses. "Just make sure he doesn't fall on his way." She lightly waves them towards him. 

"The OR is this way, sir." One of the nurses steps in front of him, leading him towards a big metal door. 

All three of them pushed through the door and immediately are met with the room's cold air. "Just lay on the bed. Careful not to lay on your right side," one of the nurses chimed. 

"Got it." He grits as he carefully lays himself on the bed, positioned on his back. "What hospital am I at?" Ghost questions, gripping his side. 

"Highlands Medical," one nurse answers as she gets his IV drip ready. He makes a thoughtful expression. "Don't suppose Y/N still works here? Huh?"

"Oh yeah. Dr. Y/L/N. She still works here. Has been for a couple of years, actually." The nurse quickly finds his vein and gently sticks the IV in his arm. "I want her." He plainly states.

"Sorry, she has another patient at the moment. Dr. Brazo is great, though."

"No." He looks at the nurse. "I want her."

The nurses look at each other for a moment. "I'm sorry, but unfortunately—" He is quick to pull his IV out. 

"What are you-" The nurse questions. "You can't leave." The other nurse chimes as Ghost sits up, gritting his teeth as he feels his side ache. "I told you. I want her." He pauses. "And if I can't have her, I'm leaving."

They eye each other once again. "Okay, okay. Just lay back. I'll go get her." He narrows his eyes. "I will," she assures him. He gently lies back as the nurse once again sticks his IV in his arm. 

Before the nurse could leave, there was a knock at the door, followed by an intense voice. "PD," the voice said, opening the door. It was three police officers. "Simon Riley?" one asked, looking at Ghost, to which he nodded. 

"Gonna' have to handcuff you." He strolled over to the bed, pulling out his handcuffs and cuffing him to either side of the bed. "We're also gonna' have to stay in here." Two police officers stood in front of the door, and the other moved closer to Ghost's bed.

"Isn't this a bit overkill?" One nurse said as she grabbed Ghost's chart. "Direct orders," the officer who handcuffed him said. "Well, I need to go get the doctor. I can leave, right?" The two police officers by the door stepped aside and let her slip through.

The nurse made her way to room 104, where you were, gently knocking on the door. "Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Y/L/N. Can I speak to you for a moment?" You raised your brow, issuing an apology to your patient before stepping outside. 

"What's going on?" you ask, crossing your arms. "Well, we have a guy in the OR. He's uh... he's requested you." The nurse hands over his chart.

"No name?" You say, examining the blank name section of the chart. "He won't talk much. So, we just wrote down where he was injured." The nurse looks at you. "Did you tell him I was busy with another patient?" You hand the nurse the chart back. "Yes, several times, but he threatened to leave. Even pulled out his IV." The nurse let out a little laugh

You titled your head. "Call Dr. Lindley. She can take over this patient; she owes me." You grab the chart again. "In the OR, yes?" The nurse nods. You glance over the chart again before opening the door to your patient. "I'm sorry, Ms. Lawson. There is an emergency in the OR. But Dr. Lindley will be here shortly. I have sent her your charts so she knows your condition. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience." You earnestly say, but to your surprise, she seems fine with the change. 

You step out of room 104 with the nurse by your side and notice the influx of police in the lobby. "What the hell is going on?" You turn to the nurse with you. "I'm not sure, but earlier, three police officers came in the OR. I think they're still there." You breathe out and head towards the big metal door, though you are unable to open it.

"Excuse me. I need in." You raise your voice, knocking on the cold metal. The door is instantly opened, and he meets you.

"Simon." You question observing his disheveled state. 

"Hey, doc." You cringe at his voice. It was deep and rough. Commanding. It spliced through the air and demanded attention. It was the same, but slightly different than the voice you heard all those years ago.

"What happened to you?" You walk over to him, assessing his side.

"Got injured." He matter-of-factly proclaims.

You roll your eyes. "I see your sense of humor hasn't changed much." Your gaze travels to his hands, both glued to the bed and held by cuffs. "I can't work on him with cuffs," you remark, turning to the officers. "Sorry, I can't remove them," one says.

You frustratingly sigh. "I can't operate on him with handcuffs." You continue. "And if I don't operate on him, he'll bleed out and die." The officers glance at each other and then at Ghost.

"Don't worry, I'll be a good boy for the doctor." He remarks, the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smirks under his mask. "Fine, but don't try anything." One skeptically says, walking over to him and uncuffing both hands. 

You make your way over to him and carefully cut his shirt off, where his injury is. "So-" You begin, grabbing some iodine to clean the deep wound. "What's all this about? Are you a criminal now?" You question, gently laying some surgical drape over the area.

He shuddered at the direct contact, quietly cursing. "Sorry. It's going to hurt a little." You called for one of the nurses to grab the suture kit. "So, criminal?" You pushed again as the nurse handed you the kit.

He lets out a gruff laugh that tickles your ears. "No. Not a criminal." He pauses as you begin to use the kit to sew stitches under the skin. "It's complicated." He brusquely states. "Mhm. I see you're still the brooding, mysterious type. Huh?" You smile at him as his muscles contract at the needle going into his skin. 

"Brooding?" He huffs. You let out a laugh. "Very much so." You look up to notice he's staring at you. Your eyes instantaneously locked. It should feel awkward. There were five other people in there, but it felt like it was just the two of you at that moment. 

A knock at the door jolted you out of your daze. "Open the door," the voice on the other side demanded. The police in front of the door jumped but opened it a bit before opening it wider to accommodate the person.

"Christ. Why are all of you in here?" Detective Marsh gestures to all three officers. "You two sure as shit shouldn't be here." He gestures to the two officers standing in front of the door. "The DA has the whole departments ass because of you two." He wipes his hand across his jaw, which is covered in stubble. "Get out." He demands.

"But, sir-" One officer starts.

Detective Marsh's jaw tightens, causing both officers to hurry out the door. The last officer stands adjacent to where Ghost lays. "Sorry about that." Detective Marsh declares. He points at the remaining officer. "Come with me. I need backup downtown." The officer glances at Ghost. Detective Marsh rolls his eyes. "He's fine." The officer nods, and they head off. 

"Sweetheart." Ghost croaked. You look at him. "Your hand." He gestures to your hand resting on his side. "Sorry." You quickly pick up your gloved hand and reach for the saline to clean his wound. 

"I forgot I had a case scheduled today with Dr. Raines." You look up at the nurses. “Will you two go assist her?" They both nod and head out the door.

"Gotta' lot of patients today, doc." Ghost lifted a brow as you applied some antiseptic. "I thought they would have remembered that Dr. Raines is on maternity leave." You give him a cheeky smile.

"Wow. Lyin' to your coworkers? How insensitive." He sarcastically remarks as you snicker. "I just...I needed to talk to you." You confess, applying a large bandage to his side.

"In private?" You look up at him after you finish putting the bandage on. "In private," you confirm, gently pressing the bandage around the edges to secure it onto his skin. 

"What?" He tilted his head, taking notice of your silence. 

"I hate seeing you like this." You look up at him. "All bruised up."

"I'm fine." He assures, which makes you let out a laugh.

He tilts his head. "What's so funny?"

"You've always been so stubborn," you remark, absently stroking his thumb. “You never let anyone help you. You always want to do things on your own, even if you can't."

"I let you help me." He lifts his finger to graze yours gently. "I know. I'm glad you did." You smile. "So, will you tell me why all the cops are interested in you?" You question, raising a brow. "No. I think I'll stay brooding." He quips. "Simon Riley, did you just make a joke?" You exclaim, making him let out a laugh. 

You both sat there for a moment, falling into a comfortable silence. You knew you most likely wouldn't see him again, and he knew the same. It's just how your relationship worked with him. You see him once in a blue moon, and then he disappears off the face of the earth for what feel like an eternity.

You loved Simon, and he loved you, but you both knew a relationship beyond what you had currently couldn't work, especially with him being God knows where with God knows who. There are too many trials and tribulations involved. It's better to keep it simple and one-dimensional, something Simon Riley is not. 

"I'll have the nurse fill out your discharge papers." You finally break the silence, gently squeezing his hand. He nods.

You don't know what possessed you, but you find yourself bending down to kiss him. He's quick to kiss you back. You pull back and head to the door, holding it open.

"Goodbye, Simon."

"Goodbye, Sweetheart."

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[snifflesandsnzes]

can you write a snz fic for hongjoong pls, i don’t have a specific request you can just freestyle i guess hehe. thank you! i’ll appreciate anything you come up with

Heyyyy! First off, thank you so much for your request! It was just what I needed to get me started on writing after my exams! I loved writing this!! Also, I love that my first fic after my "hiatus" is an Ateez fic because I LOVE them! I hope you enjoyyyy!

Your refusal to be weak is likely what keeps you weak

“Members, gather up! Let me brief y'all on your newest Wanteez episode!” Ateez's PD called out to them.

After about 15 minutes of getting briefed on the theme for the next few episodes, it was clear to the members that this episode was going to be one of the funnest they've ever had. It was basically a time for the members to go on a vacation together and spend some quality time with each other. Not to mention, it'll be a break from their busy schedules recently. The only thing that'll make the whole trip feel like work would be the cameras but since all of them were super close to the Wanteez team, it'll be fun nonetheless. 

When the day for their departure finally rolled around, all the members were equally excited for it despite the freezing January weather. The members were jumping out of bed at record speed, not wanting to waste even a second. Well, all of them except Hongjoong. 

Truth be told, Hongjoong had started feeling a little off the day before their trip. He had brushed it off, deciding that it was because he hadn't been dressing warmly enough. But the exhaustion he felt when he climbed into bed that night along with the slight ache at the back of his throat couldn't be explained by just that. But Hongjoong would be damned if he admitted what all those signs could mean.

When Hongjoong woke up the next day, he immediately noticed how much worse he felt. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, making it difficult to keep his eyes open and difficult to hear anything clearly. His throat had actually started hurting now unlike the slight ache he felt the night before. And above all, he was met with an almost burning sensation in his sinuses. Groaning softly, he got out of bed and stepped outside his room. 

As soon as he entered the living of his dorm, he was met with chaos. Jongho had a small suitcase in the middle of the room where he was currently shoving all his clothing and other essentials haphazardly. Due to where it was, the suitcase kept making Wooyoung trip over it as he tried to make breakfast for all of them. Hongjoong sighed softly but then he smiled at them fondly, despite how tired he felt. “Hongjoong-hyung!” Wooyoung called, after finally having noticed Hongjoong standing at the doorway. “You're up! You should get ready because we have to meet our staff at, like, 10 am sharp. And after you're done packing, we can eat breakfast together.” Wooyoung said happily and even though Hongjoong wasn't really all that hungry at the moment, how could he deny him? So Hongjoong just nodded and gave Wooyoung a soft smile before trudging towards the bathroom. As soon as he turned on the bathroom lights, however, the brightness made the burning sensation in his sinuses increase tenfold and his breath caught in his throat, eyes fluttering shut. “hh'EtChuHh!-” Hongjoong blinked in surprise after the sneeze before sniffling wetly. It seemed like the sudden sneeze had made his nose start to run like crazy, causing his breath to catch on more than one occasion while he tried to do his regular morning routine. 

When he was finally done with everything, Hongjoong went back to his room to collect his luggage. It's a good thing that he had packed it in advance. Maybe his past self had known that he really wouldn't be up to it in the morning. He then made his way back to the living room, luggage in hand. Jongho had finally managed to pack his luggage and his suitcase was currently on the sofa, making the room look much more clean. Seonghwa would be proud (and if he’s not, he should be). Wooyoung had already finished making breakfast and was currently piling food onto plates for Hongjoong and Jongho. “Okay, Joong-hyung and Hojung-ah, come and have your breakfast. We need to leave soon, anyway.” Both Hongjoong and Jongho took a seat at the table and as Hongjoong started eating, he, once again, thanked the heavens above that he got to share a dorm with Wooyoung because that meant he could taste the younger's amazing cooking whenever he wanted and for that he would always be grateful (okay, maybe a bit too dramatic for just kimchi fried rice but whatever). After finishing their meal, they all helped each other clean up, hauled their luggage out and locked the dorm. Hongjoong dialed up Seonghwa, wanting to make sure they were all leaving their respective dorms at around the same time. He confirmed that yes, Seonghwa, San and Mingi were currently leaving their dorm and no, Seonghwa (surprisingly) hadn’t packed his favourite lego set. Only after Wooyoung confirmed that Yunho and Yeosang were on their way too did the 3 of them leave for their designated meeting spot before the filming started. 

When Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Jongho made it to their meeting spot, Yunho and Yeosang were the only ones there. As they stepped out of their car, Hongjoong immediately regretted not wearing something warmer. The chilly weather along with the ever-present wind made him start shivering almost immediately. Jongho, who had been standing next to him, seemed to have noticed because he turned to him. “Hyung, why didn't you wear a jacket? You're literally shivering! Here, take mine.” He said as he shrugged off his jacket. Hongjoong felt the tips of his ears start to heat up from embarrassment. “I'm fine, Jongho-ya, you don't need to do that.” But Jongho still placed his jacket on his hyung's shoulders regardless. “I don't get cold that easily, hyung. I'm serious! You need this jacket way more than me right now.” Hongjoong wanted to argue a bit more but he couldn't deny that the jacket felt good on his shoulders so he just mumbled a quiet thank you to Jongho, accepting the sweet gesture of his maknae.

Once Seonghwa, San and Mingi had also arrived, their PD ushered them into the bus that was going to take them to Taean. The members were all talking animatedly amongst themselves as they contemplated who they wanted to sit next to. Truth be told, Hongjoong would have preferred to just be alone because he knew he was actually getting sick at this point. But luck wasn't on his side and he was stuck seated next to Seonghwa at the very back of the bus. Don’t get him wrong, Hongjoong usually loved Seonghwa's company but at the moment, he wanted to hide the fact that he was catching a cold from him and he knew Seonghwa would probably figure him out immediately. But since he couldn't do anything about it, Hongjoong just closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He would deal with all of his problems later, right now he needed to rest. He felt Seonghwa wrap an arm around him, making Hongjoong's head fall onto his shoulder. “You'll be more comfortable this way.” Seonghwa whispered to him. Hongjoong whispered a word of thanks to him and Seonghwa just patted his hair in response. 

After about an hour of falling asleep against Seonghwa, Hongjoong was roused by the burning itch in his sinuses. He tried rubbing at his nose but that just made it so much worse. He looked over at Seonghwa who was fast asleep and let out a curse under his breath. Not wanting to wake the other, Hongjoong pinched his nose right when he felt his breath start to hitch. “hH’NGtT!-” Hongjoong managed to stifle the first sneeze but without any warning, his breath started to hitch again and he felt his eyes flutter shut. "hHt’NgTChieww!-” Hongjoong let out a sigh after the second sneeze, rubbing at his nose. Though he had managed to stay quiet, he hadn't been able to fully stifle the sneeze and he knew that Seonghwa had probably heard him. Still, Hongjoong had his hopes up until he felt Seonghwa hand him a tissue. “Bless you,” Seonghwa said, his voice deeper than usual due to sleepiness. “Thanks, Seonghwa-yah. You can go back to sleep. I'm sorry for waking you up.” Seonghwa shook his head at Hongjoong's words. “It’s fine, don't worry about it. Just don't stifle your sneezes like that, Joong-ah, you're gonna hurt yourself.” Hongjoong blushed a little at his words but nodded.

After softly rubbing his nose with the tissue, Hongjoong put his head on Seonghwa's shoulder again, willing himself to not sneeze again. Seonghwa had already fallen asleep again and soon enough, Hongjoong found himself drifting off as well. After what felt like barely a few minutes to him, he was being shaken awake by Yunho. “Joong-hyung, Hwa-hyung, wake up! We've reached Taean and PD-nim wants us inside the lodgings immediately.” Seonghwa ran a hand through his hair, yawning widely while Hongjoong let out a petulant whine. Yunho laughed at his hyungs before grabbing both of their hands and pulling them to their feet. “Hyung, come on~! We're gonna be late!” Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa grumbled under their breath but soon enough, they trudged out of the bus and into their lodgings behind the other members. When they were all inside their lodgings, their PDs briefed them about the filming process. The members had the rest of the day off to do whatever they wanted and they would start filming the next day. The members were also informed of their sleeping arrangements. To give off the proper MT vibe, the members were supposed to sleep on the floor with mattresses. All the members were mostly happy with this arrangement as it reminded them of their trainee days. Hongjoong, on the other hand, was dreading the experience. Sleeping next to the members while fighting an oncoming cold did not seem ideal in the slightest. But since he couldn't speak up without sounding unprofessional, he stayed silent. Meanwhile, the other members found it impossible to stay silent. After a long, drawn-out discussion or “battle” as Wooyoung called it, they finally decided on their respective spots on the floor. Hongjoong, who just wanted to get some goddamn sleep, settled on his mattress as soon as the others’ “battle” was over. He should have known, however, that there was never a peaceful moment when you're with Ateez.

“Whatcha doing, hyung? Mingi asked, taking a seat next to Hongjoong. Not having the heart to ignore the younger, Hongjoong just shrugged. “Nothing much, Mingi-yah. I'm just a bit tired.” Wooyoung, who had been trying to get Yeosang to cuddle with him, commented, “Well, that's what happens when you refuse to keep a regular sleep schedule, hyung.” Hongjoong rolled his eyes and he was about to reply with his own snarky comment but his breath caught on an inhale. He quickly brought his hands up to his face, his chest rising and falling with desperate gasps. “hHt…HhT-! Hhht…hH'EtChieww!-” Hongjoong sniffled against the tickle which immediately caused it to peak again. “hhT…hHt'ETChuhH!-” “Wow, bless you!” Mingi said, surprised. Hongjoong felt his face grow hot with all the attention. “Thanks, Mingi-yah.” He whispered quietly. “Hyung, you okay?” Yunho asked from across the room. “Yeah, I'm fine, Yunho-yah.” Hongjoong said quickly, almost reflexively. He could feel Seonghwa's eyes on him from across the room as well but he decided to deal with that problem later.

The tickle in his sinuses seemed to have stopped after the 2 sneezes but Hongjoong knew well enough that it was just the calm before the storm. Not wanting to sneeze in front of the members and worry them more, Hongjoong stood up and wandered off in the vague direction of their lodgings’ kitchen. Even though he didn't particularly feel like eating, some tea might actually help get rid of his cold. But before Hongjoong could discreetly leave the kitchen, tea in hand, he was stopped by Seonghwa. So much for wanting to avoid trouble, Hongjoong thought bitterly.

Seonghwa glared at Hongjoong, the captain shrinking a little under his friend's sharp gaze. Not to mention the irritating urge to sneeze was coming back to him. (Not now, damnit!) Soon enough, his breath started to hitch and he brought his wrist up to his nose and mouth, his head snapping to the side. “hH'EtCHieww!-” “Bless you,” Seonghwa's tone was dry but there was still a hint of worry behind his words. “And bless you again.” Hongjoong made a confused sound at the back of his throat but then had to immediately turn away again as he snapped forward with another forceful, “hHt'EtCHuHh!-” Hongjoong sniffled wetly as he turned back to Seonghwa. “How’d you know I was gonna sneeze again?" Hongjoong asked, trying to keep his tone casual. Seonghwa heaved a huge sigh, taking out a travel pack of tissues and handing it to him. “Because I know you, Joong-ah.” He then heaved another huge sigh and Hongjoong closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. “You're sick, aren't you?” Seonghwa asked and though it was a question, he didn't sound like it was. “I-” “Kim Hongjoong, I swear, if you pull any of that “but I'm the captain, I need to be strong” shit, I will personally end you. You're allowed to be weak sometimes. Besides, your refusal to be weak is likely what keeps you weak.” Hongjoong sighed after Seonghwa's little monologue, exhaustion suddenly taking over his bones. Seonghwa's right, of course he is. But it's not like Hongjoong's going to admit that so easily. “We're supposed to be professional, Hwa-yah.” Hongjoong decided to say instead and Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “It’s just us, Joong-ah! You can let your guards down in front of us!” Hongjoong just shook his head, feeling a horrifying burning sensation in his eyes. “I'll be alright, Seonghwa. Don’t worry about me.” Hongjoong finally managed to push past the other, leaving Seonghwa standing in the kitchen alone. He drank his tea in hopes of getting better soon but while trying to dispose of the cup, he got ambushed by San this time.

“Hyung, you're drinking tea? You only ever do that when you're sick. Are you okay?” Hongjoong pushed the urge to groan down as he said, “I'm fine, San-ah.” "You really don’t look fine, though.” San said, taking in his hyung's teary eyes, bright red nose and almost feverishly pink cheeks. “I’m fine, San-ah! Could you drop it?!” Hongjoong snapped, getting tired of all the questioning. San’s eyes grew wide and Hongjoong immediately regretted snapping at him. “Wait, San-ah, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I’m sorry! I just- hHt’ETChieww!-” Hongjoong blinked, the sneeze having caught him completely by surprise. “Bless you, hyung! And it’s fine, hyung. You don’t need to apologize, really.” San said and Hongjoong felt even more bad for snapping at him. But before he could say anything else, his breath caught on an inhale and he could barely pull the collar of his shirt to his nose and mouth before he gasped softly. “hH’EtChuHh!- hHT!- hHh…hHt’ETChiihH!-” Hongjoong sniffled harshly as he took a few tissues from the travel pack Seonghwa had given him and blew his nose softly. “Woah! Bless you, hyung!” San said, surprise evident in his tone. “How long are you going to keep pretending to be okay, hyung? You do know we can see right through you, right? You can let yourself be weak around us.” Wooyoung said as he took the forgotten cup from Hongjoong’s hands before running a hand through his hyung’s hair. “Exactly! You don’t need to be the strong “captain” around us all the time! You can lean on us just as much as we can lean on you.” Yunho said earnestly and the others all nodded at his words. Now, Hongjoong didn’t know if it’s because of his sick state or his dongsaengs’ sweet words but he felt the tears he’d tried so desperately to hold back pouring out of him. And of course, Wooyoung didn't hesitate before pulling him into a hug, gently kissing his cheek. They stood like that for who knows how long, Wooyoung rubbing circles on his back as Hongjoong buried his face in his neck. “Hyung…” Wooyoung whispered softly into his hair, his tone sad. He hated seeing his members cry. “I’m alright, really, Young-ah. I just…I love you guys so much.” Hongjoong said, blushing furiously, the last part of his sentence coming out as a whisper. Wooyoung cooed and hugged his captain tighter, making Hongjoong smile warmly.

When Hongjoong finally stopped crying and Wooyoung pulled out of the hug, Seonghwa appeared out of nowhere, pulling him into a short hug as well. “So, will the Kim Hongjoong finally admit weakness?” He asked, his tone snarky and Hongjoong gave his fellow ‘98 liner a small smile. “I guess you could say that.”

(And Hongjoong swore he could hear all of the members letting out a collective cheer at his words.)

[sharkbarkz]

Three notes I took from the Rolled for Wonderlust eps 11-13! Felt like sharing them for anyone who can't listen to the rolleds (spoilers obvi)

Runt is terminally ill (or was until they found the herb, however it's only a temporary fix. They mentioned Reclaim wasn't advanced enough in medicine to have a cure, but maybe Wonder could. But they would have to go find out) but yeah they made a point of saying her illness is terminal (I'm going to cry why do they do this to me- Runt is my girl. She better be cured by the end of the campaign I swear.)

All the different layers of the mountain are different pieces of other worlds. Grizzly gave Bizly permission to use the Riptide world but they skipped over it or it was always gonna be super short. (it wouldn't have been a location we know. Bizly specified that these places had been destroyed in their original worlds and ended up here)(he used a really confusing meteor allegory that also wasnt an allegory)

The prime defenders layer is from the future of prime defenders. So the PD gang had become the prime force. (Apparently there had been a chance that DAKOTA was going to be there as a joke but they didn't end up doing that, but that would've been so funny- to be honest that whole bit in the rolled was hilarious)

[earndiltheequalizer]

In the E1 NWG end segment you mentioned you GM most of the time, can we hear what those settings and stories you ran were? Any memorable moments?

Mostly been in Fallout, Shadowrun, and D&D, with sparse little else. I've run games as a cringe, listless teenager who couldn't run a thing, to the adult I am now that has had a 3-Year long Fallout campaign be the crowning achievement (for now), and a Shadowrun campaign that's been enjoyed by all three of the players.

The Fallout campaign (titled Fallout: Legends of Wyoming) lasted for 3 years featuring a host of people, with the one lodestone being @aufhocker, being the one person who was a constant throughout the game's lifetime, featuring also @glorified-monster for a long duration, and @bhreadboard towards the end (there were many more, but I don't know their tumblrs, and there was a bit of bad blood between a few, wish them all well). Took place in post apocalyptic Wyoming, after the events of F:NV, and dealt with the party's attempts to find a place and way to live within the confines of a series of towns, ruins, and eventually finding work as a fully fledged mercenary company in the employ of the local dictatorship: The Directorate of Cheyenne. This campaign came to an unofficial close after the core players were just unable to make it work with everyone's schedules, but things were beginning to gear up with interference from the NCR, the Legion, and a Genghis Kahn-esque faction of disparate bandits, raiders, and tribals cobbled together under the will of a man called Maxwell Irons, named The Impalers.

The Shadowrun game (titled: The Heart of Rock and Roll is in Cleveland) took place in good ol' Cleveland, Ohio, and followed again Aufhocker, Bhreadboard, and @crimsonservbot (Zegram) as they attempt to solve a mystery surrounding an impounded (and apparently DEEPLY HAUNTED) great lakes freighter, and one guy who's spent piles of money to get a single artifact onboard it. An adventure rife with skinheads, flesh demons, a failgirl hacker pressganged into joining the party, a knightly order of hackers plus one femboy with an onlyfans, an all-elf rent-a-cop service in a pissing war with the Cleveland PD and Lonestar, and a dash of Skyline Chili. This one's presently on a break after they completed the first campaign, and I'm trying to find the time for the second.

This is a very brief vertical slice, and frankly there's too many good moments to count thanks to my players being so much fun to bounce off of. But one great moment that I think stuck with them was in the Fallout game where the players had to fight off a gang of motorcycle riding bandits, from the back of a 16-wheeler en route to the ruined city of Casper, all without a single gun to their names, and the very real fear that being yanked from the truck at speed meant certain death or dismemberment.

[reidsrambles]

An Invisible Locket

Chapter 7: Gravity

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader // Secret relationship

Description: You work with your best friend and your boyfriend. The only problem is, nobody knows Spencer Reid is your boyfriend of over a year. When you find out that Spencer's getting sent out on a case immediately after getting back to Quantico, impulses take over. (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, oral sex (M & F receiving), PIV sex, unprotected sex within an established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion (in a pro-choice context, though Reader ends up choosing to stay pregnant), minor mentions of alcohol and cancer.

As for the crime subplot, much of it is very canon-typical (referenced child abuse & grooming by an extended family member (non-sexual), violence, blood/gore, drugs. As always, please feel free to let me know if I miss any CWs!

A/N: This fic is obviously heavy on the Spencer and Reader relationship, but it's also got a significant Garcia best friend plot line and crime plot line. This fic also features an unplanned Reader pregnancy. Reader debates abortion and is pro-choice, but ultimately ends up keeping the pregnancy. If any of that isn't up your alley, please feel free to skip this fic!

Names used: Baby, baby girl, good/sweet/pretty girl, daddy, good boy (once), my love.

Words (this chapter): 4.8 K

Words (total): 29.1 K

Spencer and Derek are quickly treated at the hospital while the rest of the team assists the local PD in processing the scene and finalizing our part of the case.

Jeremy talked pretty quickly once they got him in custody. He said that his entire “message” was to warn against medical misinformation, hence the MO and the site they used to lure their first victims. In reality, Jeremy is just a narcissistic psychopath who’s got a lot of psychological damage and abandonment issues. He wanted total control over someone, and he got that with Mason. Shooting Spencer and Derek will just be another charge to help keep that monster locked up for a very long time.

By the time Spencer and Derek are cleared to fly, it’s 7 p.m. The team rolls into the BAU at nine. You and Penelope wait near the elevator as they trickle in and greet everyone with hugs and I-missed-you’s.

Of course, Spencer, Derek, and Hotch came up last. It takes every ounce of willpower to not run straight into his arms. The fact he has a horrible bruise on his chest aids your willpower here, though. Penelope follows everyone else into the bullpen, and it’s finally just you and Spencer alone.

After the jet left Florida, you and Penelope developed a plan. You knew you needed to get Spencer alone as soon as possible to talk. Penelope planned to hang around the bullpen with the team, keeping track of them while they grab their stuff and head home. If anyone asks, she’ll say that you went to your office to pack up and that Spencer already left for the night. No one’s going to stick around long, anyway. They’re all exhausted.

The hallway outside the bullpen that leads to your office is quiet. One of the night shift custodians turns the corner towards you, broom in hand, probably looking for spots the vacuum missed. He greets you with a nod, which you reciprocate as you pass.

“So, I didn’t leave work on time,” you say.

You push the door to your office open, leaning on it as it closes behind you both. The room is quiet except for the low whir emanating from the server racks.

Spencer’s standing directly in front of you, his face an inch from yours as you breathe each other in again.

“That’s okay,” he says, flashing you a tired smile. “I didn’t either.”

“When Hotch said you and Derek were—” You choke back your words to avoid breaking down.

Spencer nods in understanding but doesn’t speak.

“I was so scared,” you add, voice breaking.

He pulls you into an embrace, holding your head against his chest as he kisses your hair. Your bodies gently shift side to side, rocking each other’s bodies and soothing you both.

“I know, baby. I’m okay, though.”

You want to be angry at his attempt to reassure you. You almost weren’t okay, Spencer. What if he had aimed his gun a little higher?

But he’s here, standing in front of you, safe.

He also shot Jeremy in the leg, allowing Derek to take him down and cuff him. Another serial killer is in custody because of his bravery and quick action.

You lift your head off his chest to look up at him. You can see the fatigue in his face, but yours surely mirrors his to some degree.

Reaching a hand up, you touch his face. His facial hair is stubbly, rough under your fingertips. Your fingers trail down his jaw, across his lower lip, down the bridge of his nose. He simply observes you as you touch him, taking him in.

Bringing your hand to rest on his shoulder, you let your eyes do the wandering on their own, now. The overhead lights in your office are dimmed, which is how they stay overnight. The bags under his eyes are visible, but softened in this light. He always looks so incredibly beautiful, but when he’s staring at you like it’d kill him to look away, it’s astonishingly hard to believe you could have ever seen him as anything less.

Your breathing shallows as you give his face an up-and-down, gaze darting between his eyes and mouth.

Spencer dances his open mouth over yours, breathing you in. Before the tension can build too much, he presses a deep kiss to your mouth. Neither of you can withstand much restraint right now, and nothing could feel as comforting in this moment as Spencer loving on you.

Your hands slide down to his hips, pulling his body even closer to yours. The friction feels so good. He’s already semi-hard and you just wish you could drop to your knees, take him in your mouth, and worship his body. The urge to please him and to make him feel good is so strong, but words unsaid gnaw at your conscience in a vicious tug of war.

His body pressed to yours feels like aloe numbing the searing pain of a scraped knee. Being back in his arms, your heart would be bursting right now if it weren’t weighed down by the elephant in the room, visible only to you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, searching your eyes for a clue. “There’s something on your mind.”

Correction: the elephant, visible to both of you.

Almost instantly, tears fall.

Spencer pulls you to his chest, seeming to ignore his injury. “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”

He leads you over to your desk chair to sit down and he takes Penelope’s chair, rolling the few feet over to you.

“Is this about my chest?” he asks. “It’s just a bruise. No fractures or anything, so I’ll be okay,” he softly laughs, attempting to lighten the mood.

This is fucking terrifying. You can hear it in his voice, how concerned for you he is. He’s trying to look at you—trying to read you, but you can barely meet his eyes without breaking down into sobs.

“We need to talk,” you choke out.

Realization washes over his face. This isn’t about the gunshot which could have killed him. It’s something else entirely.

He doesn’t reply. He takes both of your hands in his—you hadn’t realized how cold yours were until now—and he nods.

Okay, swallow. Deep breath. No beating around the bush.

“I’m pregnant.”

His expression shifts a few times as he processes it. His eyes almost sparkle as they well up with tears.

“Are you–I–” He can’t even get a sentence out.

Spencer crushes you to his chest and cries. You fall into his embrace and continue sobbing, too. Whatever his feelings are, you’re still not sure, but to know that he needs to hold you is enough in this exact moment.

He pulls away just enough to plant kisses all over your face and neck, a smile contrasting his wet cheeks.

“Hold on Spence. Is that… Uh, how do you feel?” you ask him.

He pauses for a second before asking, “Well, do you want to be pregnant?”

When you don’t immediately answer, his eyes search your face with worry.

You try to figure out how to tie your many thoughts together eloquently. “I haven’t really had much time to even think about it. I’ve just sort of been in limbo about it with this case and with you being gone.” You wipe your cheeks with the side of your finger. “On the phone today, Hotch led by saying that you’d been shot but he didn’t know how bad it was. I think I nearly had a heart attack. Penelope and I have been giving this case our all. Now that you’re back, I feel like I can just breathe, at least.”

“Tell you what, why don’t we grab our stuff, head home, and get into bed? Then, we can talk about it or we can just sleep and save the talking for tomorrow when we’ve rested.”

Spencer kisses your forehead before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

All you can do is nod. The only place you want to be is in bed with him, hiding from the real world for a bit.

***

You wake up in the exact same position you fell asleep in. You’re pressed into Spencer’s side, an arm and leg draped over his body. If you didn’t have to wipe the drool off your face, you probably would have just laid there until Spencer naturally woke up.

Last night, after a very quick shower together (mostly for Spencer’s sake), you got into bed and crashed.

Spencer’s eyes flutter as he stirs awake. As you sit up to wipe your face, he groans at the loss of your body curled up into his.

“What time is it?” he asks, keeping his eyes closed.

His hair is a mess; his little curls and waves turned to un-styled fluff by his pillow. Your bedroom windows have translucent curtains over them, and he looks so peaceful and beautiful like this: in your bed, your white sheets and poofy duvet like a cloud surrounding him.

Twisting your body, you glance at the alarm clock on your side table.

“It’s ten-to-one.”

He stretches and finally blinks his eyes open.

“We needed sleep, but I’m still surprised we managed to get that much.” He reaches his arms to pull you back down to his side. “Who said you could get up yet?”

The anxiety in your body starts to build. You’ve thought numerous times already about how this conversation would go. You still don’t feel prepared. Your voice quiets to nearly a whisper.

“I have to go put your clothes in the dryer and start breakfast,” you say, unmoving.

Spencer shifts onto his side to face you. Reaching under your loose-fitting t-shirt so that he’s able to touch your bare skin, his hand trails down the side of your body, stopping just above your hip. His thumb gently rubs the side of your stomach. Any other time, this exact gesture would seem completely unremarkable, but right now, you know exactly where his head is at.

“You know you’re a horrible liar, right?” he asks.

“I do need to finish the laundry and start breakfast.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to do that right now. You just feel pressure about this conversation that you know we need to have, and you feel the urge to avoid it.” Why the fuck did you start dating a profiler again? “Plus, you know I’m not letting you do my laundry or make breakfast.”

This man literally just got shot. You’ll be making breakfast, at the very least, whether he likes it or not.

His expression is so soft, his features still a bit puffy from sleeping. His hand brushes your hair off your face and cups your jaw in one sweep. He kisses your forehead first, then the tip of your nose, and lastly, your lips. The final kiss begins as pure as the first two. Chaste. You reach your hand up to his neck, fingers gliding into the hair at the back of his head, and you lean into the kiss, parting your lips. Spencer’s hand shifts to your lower back, pulling your body into his.

You want him, and he wants you. It’s been a long case.

But lust doesn’t erase the thick, heaviness in the air. The weight of the conversation you know you need to have.

As you pull back for a breath, you notice a small droplet of tears at the corners of each eye.

He pulls you back into his body, but this time into a big hug. You’ve been dealing with your own emotions about this pregnancy all week, but right now, his are extremely palpable. He lies on his back again, pulling you with him, into his side. You’re right back where you started.

“We’ve got to talk about it,” he says.

Your lips trill, lax as you let out a big breath.

“I know,” you say.

You’re still very conscious of his injury, so before you rest your arm over his chest again, you check in with him. “Is your chest okay with my arm like that?”

He doesn’t reply. He just grabs your arm and lays it across his chest. The arm he has wrapped around your body squeezes you tighter to him. He feels the pain of his gigantic bruise, but he needs you close.

Whenever you have to have serious conversations, you’ve found it’s easier, especially for Spencer, if you’re somewhere comfortable. Somewhere where you both have the option of closing your eyes or staring off into the distance. It’s easier to think, to talk, and to stay calm.

“I need to know how you feel about this,” he says.

“I don’t even know how you feel. You never told me last night. I didn’t know if you were going to come back, find out I was pregnant, and leave me on the spot.”

“God, I hope you know that I would never do that, Y/N.” He sounds so hurt and you begin to regret ever implying that he could do such a thing. “I can’t even imagine how scary this has been for you, though. Of course, you’d be worried that I’d have a negative reaction.”

He hugs you tight into his body again and kisses the top of your head, as if breathing you in to give himself the strength to continue.

“I love you so much. When you told me, I was definitely in shock for a minute, but as soon as I processed the fact that you were pregnant, and with my baby, I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted more.”

Your slow tears continue to drip down onto his shoulder, and his now-wet cheek has made a mess of your forehead.

You almost want to throw a joke in there. Something to lighten the mood; to escape the weight of this conversation so you don’t feel as though you’re being crushed by it.

Are you sure Penelope isn’t the father? I do spend more time with her.

You don’t even have the energy for your own stupid jokes right now, though.

Spencer continues, “If you decide you don’t want to be pregnant, I can’t lie and say that I wouldn’t be sad, but I would support you and love you exactly the same.”

You take a second to process everything he’s said. There’s no way out of this conversation but through.

He tilts your chin up to examine your face. His hands cradle your head, and through his own teary eyes, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks with his thumbs. He places a loving, quick kiss on your lips.

You’re safe. He’s safe. You’ll figure this out together, like you always do.

Spencer’s looking at you the way he always does. Like you’re his entire world. Even at work, in the quick glances no one pays any mind to, his eyes light up when he sees you.

After a few deep breaths, the word-vomit spills out.

“I’m just so fucking scared, Spence. Aside from the fact that this could put my job at risk, there are so many more factors at play here. This changes everything in our lives if we go forward with this. You know I want kids, but I don’t know if this is the right time. We haven’t been together that long. We aren’t married. My parents aren’t local, so would we have to get a babysitter, or would I have to quit my job to take care of them?

“I just got off Strauss’ chopping block. Penelope and Hotch just went and fought for me, explaining what a ‘valuable member of the team’ I am. If I continue this pregnancy, I’m going to have to tell her that I’m not only leaving on maternity leave—and, how long do you even get maternity leave for?—but that I’m going to be taking more time off because I’ll have a kid to take care of, and kids get sick,” your voice begins to tremble, “and—and I’ll have appointments to take them to. What if we have one of those kids who plays six sports and I have to give up my job to chauffeur them around, or something!?”

Spencer rubs your hand in his while you try your hardest to compose yourself after that spiral.

“First, with us as their parents, I’d be amazed if our kid even played one sport, let alone six.”

His joke has you both laughing, but the soundbite of Spencer saying “our kid” is replaying in your head. Our kid.

Spencer continues talking, bringing you back to reality.

“Also, under FMLA, maternity leave would be up to twelve weeks.” He stops rubbing your hand, instead intertwining your fingers with his. “Putting everything involving work aside for a minute, do you want to be pregnant?”

This is what you’ve been avoiding. Definitively deciding whether or not to continue this pregnancy is fucking terrifying. Since the test, you’ve felt constantly hyper-aware of your uterine contents. You already downloaded one of those pregnancy apps, and this thing is only the size of a peppercorn; a collection of cells the size of a peppercorn. But this thing is your baby, and you want to see it grow.

You can understand how, at an earlier stage of your life, this would have been the last thing you wanted. Right now, though, this feels right. Not only do you trust Spencer and your relationship with him, but more importantly, you have faith in yourself to be a good mom.

You nod your head.

“Then I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make the best of this.”

“I know you will, Spence. You know that a lot’s going to change though, right?”

Having a kid together means lots of change, and obviously you both know that. The question you’re really asking is, “What’s the next step?”

“Even before this whole pregnancy surprise, you and I had developed into something bigger and more special than I could have ever imagined. I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you in it anymore. We got too comfortable living in secrecy. I don’t want any of this to be a secret anymore, though.” Spencer’s voice is getting shakier as he speaks, his chest rising and falling faster under your arm. You tilt your head up to his face and place a few soft kisses along his jawline. He meets your lips for a minute of soft, tender kisses, and then continues.

“I think I’ve spent far too long worrying about things changing with the team…” He speaks as though he’s talking aloud to himself. He often does, processing something as he talks through it. “Change can make things better. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I mean, you’re on the team and things have already changed between us, right?”

“Considering we’re currently in bed together and I’m pregnant with your child, yeah,” you nod.

He laughs into your hair, and you laugh against his well-loved cotton t-shirt. You’d buy him some new shirts if he weren’t so picky about the fit and material. At least these ones hold his scent better.

“I don’t know why I assumed that they’ll think less of me when they find out…”

“About us or the pregnancy?”

“Even before the baby, I had this automatic assumption that they’d have a negative reaction to us dating. That hardly makes sense, though, logically.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to the punch. “And before you tell me that my feelings don’t have to make logical sense, I’m well aware,” he teases.

You giggle. Relaying your therapist’s teachings has paid off.

“I mean, they might have some concerns, especially Hotch. But it’s not like we’re some fling or we’re just fuck-buddies anymore,” you say.

“When you started in the BAU, did you feel sort of like everyone viewed you as though you were a child wearing grown-up clothing?” he asks.

You shake your head to the extent that you can in this position. “No, but I was coming in under very different circumstances than you were when you started.”

Spencer has more than proven himself as a competent, capable, agent, even in the field. He’s told you about how poorly he did during his time at the academy, but you’ve always seen, firsthand, how hard he’s worked to hone those skills.

“I sometimes think that the team still views me like that, but I’ve never felt like they looked at you like that,” Spencer says.

You both sit with that for a moment.

“I know that you know better than anyone that you don’t have to prove yourself to the team, You’re not the 22-year-old new recruit anymore, Spence.”

He nods. “Morgan and Rossi will probably still call me ‘kid’, but I don’t think that will ever change”

You smile. They’ll never stop calling him that.

“Well, shit. We’re really doing this then, huh? We’re gonna be parents,” you say.

Spencer shifts onto his side to face you, slightly wincing at the pain as he moves.

His hand finds your hip again, his thumb stroking the edge of your stomach. His other fingers slowly slip under the waistband of your underwear as he grips your hip. When he looks from your stomach to your lips, you kiss him, beating him to the punch.

You roll onto your back as Spencer gets on top of you, neither of you breaking the kiss in the process. His lips move to kiss and suck on your neck.

“You’re already so perfect in every way, but, god, thinking about you pregnant with my baby just… does something to me.”

“I guess it’s a good thing neither of us have to work today then because I think both of us could use some quality time together,” you say. “In two hours, I have to start getting ready for my therapy appointment, though. Think that’s enough time to satiate us?”

Spencer kisses his way down your body, spending extra time on your stomach.

“No, but I’ll make it work for now.”

***

[8 WEEKS LATER]

“Okay guys, I need everyone’s attention,” JJ yells.

The bull pen quiets. She sent an email out this morning asking everyone in the unit to meet here at the end of the day for “an announcement”. You and Penelope have heard whispers around the office. People think JJ’s announcing that she’s pregnant again, which isn’t surprising given the fact that she’s the only one on the team with a kid.

A few days after the team got back, Spencer asked her if he could come over to talk to her and Will. She got one shock when you showed up with Spencer, arm-in-arm. The look of realization on her face when she opened the door was kind of priceless, though.

When you told her that you were pregnant, she actually gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth in shock. She’s been insanely supportive, obviously. Her pregnancy tips have also been a godsend. You probably wouldn’t have survived the first-trimester morning sickness otherwise.

Now that you’ve hit the 12-week mark, you’ve decided to tell everyone, both about the relationship, and about the baby. Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right? You can still hide your tiny baby bump for now, but it’s time to clear the air so you can shift your focus to celebrating and enjoying the pregnancy. Shortly after Spencer got back from Florida, you slowly began moving into his place. He’s had to move some of his books and you had to get rid of some of your purses and shoes, but this little peanut’s nursery is starting to come along.

“Thank you all for coming. So, we do have an announcement today, but it isn’t going to be from me,” JJ says.

Here goes nothing.

You step forward from the group and move to stand beside JJ.

“Hi, guys. So, I—uh, I know this announcement is going to come as quite a shock to you, but I need to tell you all that—,” your eyes lock onto Spencer’s to ground you, “that I am pregnant.”

Spencer gives you a private smile before surveying everyone’s reactions. The murmurs of discussion have returned, louder this time.

Dave marches right up to you, grabbing your face and kissing both of your cheeks before enveloping you in a hug.

“Another BAU grandchild for me! Brava, my dear!”

At your announcement, all Emily could manage was a loud, “Oh my god!” in shock. She comes up to you after Dave and gives you a big hug, rocking you side-to-side.

“Congratulations!” She lowers her voice to a whisper for only you to hear and says, “I can’t believe you’re fucking pregnant!”

“I can barely believe it myself most days. Trust me.”

With an air of cautious implication, Emily says, “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“Yeah, about that…” You shift your attention from Emily to the rest of the room to gather their attention. “Guys, there’s something else I have to tell you.”

Derek chimes in, “Don’t tell us it’s twins,” which elicits a few nervous laughs.

“If it was twins, you know Garcia would have already spilled the beans by accident,” you say.

Penelope, who has been relatively quiet throughout this announcement, speaks up to defend herself. “Hey! For the record, I have worked incredibly hard to keep this secret! My tongue hurts from biting it so much, so you all should be very proud of me!”

You hear Derek privately congratulate her with a “High-five, babygirl. I’m proud of you.”

“Oh, and I’ve been planning the shower for months, so nobody better start getting any ideas!” she adds.

“It’s not twins or triplets or any other form of multiples.” You make a vague gesture of circling your belly. “There’s just one bun in this oven. Depending on how well I’ve been keeping this next secret, this might be more or less of a surprise than the last one. I think everyone knows that I’ve been pretty single since I started working here, so I’m sure you’re all politely and quietly wondering how I found myself with child.”

You could hear a pin drop in this office right now as you swallow. Everyone’s eyes are on you and their anticipation feels like a weight in your chest. Then again, your abdominal organs are all being rearranged, so maybe your liver has just moved in on your diaphragm’s turf or something like that.

“No, it wasn’t immaculate conception. I was single when I started with the BAU, but I’ve become not-single since then and kept it a secret.”

It’s like you can see the gears turning in their heads as you wait for someone to connect the dots.

“We know the father.” Dave says. A statement, not a question.

As all eyes turn towards Spencer, Derek’s utter shock sets in. “No fucking way.”

Spencer’s face is slightly flushed, and he’s sporting a cute little smirk.

“How long has this been going on?” Emily asks, pointing between the two of you.

“You all might want to consider a different career,” you tease, walking over to Spencer and reaching out for his hand.

Finally.

Spencer answers, “As of today, 549 days.”

You follow that up with “Like, a year and a half,” which registers much better with the team.

Everyone remains quiet, their thoughts drifting to past interactions, looking for clues.

“You know, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes,” Emily says.

Derek picks his bag up from the floor beside him. “I think we could all use a drink after that bomb drop. Well, no drinks for Y/N, obviously,” he laughs. “You guys down?”

Dave grabs his bag, as well, and gestures in the direction of the elevators. “First round’s on me to celebrate!”

As everyone funnels out, you and Spencer trail just behind them. He kisses the top of your head and whispers, “We don’t have to hide anymore, baby.”

You look up at him and kiss him as you continue walking. It feels so damn weird to be kissing him in front of your colleagues like that, even though they’re all facing the other direction. It’s so open in here.

“Yeah, the hard part’s over. Now we just have to birth a child and raise them for at least 18 years. That shouldn’t be too difficult, right?” you say.

Spencer nods forward, in the direction of the team. “They say it takes a village, right?”

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[serenpedac]

Seren!! If you are taking prompts (but no pressure either way!!):

[granite] acting, parting, destined, meet, need for Farah and Gabi maybe, or

[aqua regia] past, stuck, picture, veins, heart for Nate and Yael?

(Or anyone who sparks joy!!! And again no pressure ❤️ )

Wonderful PD <3333 Thank you so much for sending and can you read my mind??? Because I'd been thinking about Gabi and Unit Delta after we got to meet them in the demo, so "granite" is so very fitting. (Not that they play a very large role in this, but still)

Granite

Words: ~1500

Rating: Teen and up

Relationship: Female OC/Farah Hauville

Warnings: None

Farah peaks her head around the door into the Facility’s common room, already knowing the answer, but still asking, "Gabes's not here?" 

Both Nate and Adam look up from some papers on the table before them, heads moving in unison. Farah wonders if they even know they're doing that, adopting mannerisms and phrases from each other. Though that last one could be because they're both old.

"She's probably with Unit Delta," Adam says.

Farah winces, and she tries to hide it, tries to act like her usual self, but Nate still catches it.

"Do you want me to come with you to look for her?"

"No, I got it." She adds some extra peppiness to her voice, both to convince him and herself, but he still scrutinises her, so she adds, "Bet I can find her before you can even get up and out of this room anyway."

He chuckles. "We'll be waiting here for the both of you."

"You'd better be." How rude it would be for them to leave her and Gabi behind while they go back to the warehouse.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Gabi had parted from the rest of them today, if Farah is being honest. Ever since the Agency introduced Gabi to Unit Delta, she's been spending a lot of time with the other team. Like, a lot a lot.

'Unit Delta' is such a nice name, according to Gabi. There's all kinds of things in physics and mathematics that use the letter delta, she told Farah. Like the difference. The difference of what, Farah doesn't know. 

When she asked if beta was also some cool thing, Gabi had mentioned something about beta radiation, only for her to look away from Farah and stare into the distance with a worried frown. Whatever it was about this radiation, or the letter beta, it had made her uncomfortable. If there was one thing Farah didn't want, it was to make her uncomfortable, so she'd shut up about it.

She runs into Gabi in one of the hallways leading to the... the research labs, maybe. Probably. Her head is bent towards Axel, their voices hushed. The other three members of Unit Delta walk behind them, not saying a word.

"Hi babe!"

Five pairs of eyes flash towards her to fix her with their stares, her voice bouncing off a stony wall of silence.

"Farah, hi." There’s a brief flash of a smile, but Gabi's face turns serious again as she clasps her hands behind her back.

"I've been looking for you."

"Sorry, I— we got distracted."

Farah fakes a gasp. “You found something more interesting than me?” Both Gabi and Axel smile at that, which she’ll count as a win. Emboldened, she continues, "We're about to leave and you know how Morgan gets when she has to wait for too long." She rolls her eyes, hoping to tease another smile from Gabi.

Gabi hums. "And running around the facility to find me has nothing to do with you getting impatient, right?"

"Not getting impatient, only missing you, Gabes."

A frown creases Gabi's forehead as she looks between Farah and Unit Delta. "I do suppose I should be going."

"Of course." Axel gives her a warm smile, and even the unreadable expressions of the others seem to soften when they say their goodbyes. "Will we see you again soon?"

Gabi nods. "You bet."

*~*~*

They barely talk on their way back to Wayhaven. Adam repeats the points they've already discussed during the meeting, Nate hums his agreement and the rest of them stare out of the windows. Or, in Farah's case, keep casting glimpses at Gabi, trying to gauge what she's thinking. Her arms are crossed, hands tugged underneath as if to hug herself. She feels tense, worried, just as she's been ever since Li-Sar showed up and gave, no, forced these powers on her.

"Mind if I come with you?" Farah asks when they take the turn into Gabi's street. "Just for a bit?"

A pause follows, one that lasts long enough for Farah to worry her bottom lip between her teeth, but she holds Gabi's eyes. She needs to know what Gabi is thinking, how she's doing, and she cannot do that if Gabi keeps avoiding her. Eventually, Gabi is the one to look away.

"Are you sure?"

Whatever answer Farah had been expecting, it was not this. Of course she's sure, but it seems Gabi is the one who isn't. 

"Very sure. A hundred percent, even if you keep saying there is always some uncertainty." She nudges Gabi's shoulder with her own.

"Alright."

Once inside, Farah gestures for Gabi to sit down, while she gets her a glass of water. She rummages through the cupboards for cookies, which she finds in one of the upper cabinets.

"Need a hand?" Gabi is already at her side, reaching over Farah to get them without even having to stand on her tiptoes.

With the pack of cookies in one hand and the glass of water in the other, Gabi walks back to the living room area to sit down in the one arm chair. It’s Farah’s favourite part of the room, the ochre yellow one of the only pops of colour between the whites and greys and black of the rest of the interior. The best thing is that it’s large enough to sit in with two people. Or at least it is if Farah sits sideways on Gabi’s lap, her legs dangling over the armrest. Right now, however, Gabi pulls up her feet underneath her, making it impossible for Farah to join, so instead, she takes place on the corner of the sofa closest to her.

"So—"

"How was—"

They both fall quiet as they look at the other to continue. 

It shouldn’t be this awkward. It never is this awkward between them.

Farah twists one of her braids around her finger. She’s tried being patient, not pushing it, and it hasn’t gotten her anywhere. So she blurts out, "Gabes, what is wrong?" Light brown eyes go wide, but she still doesn’t say a thing, so Farah continues, "You’ve been avoiding me ever since the whole Li-Sar thing and I don’t know what to do. I want to help and be there for you, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me."

Gabi presses her lips together, turning a cookie around and around. It’s chocolate chip, one of her favourites, but she hasn’t even taken a bite.

The silence stretches on long, longer than Farah would have liked, but it’s not a bad kind of silence, Farah doesn’t think. She holds very still, listening to the sound of her own heartbeat twined together with Gabi’s.

When Gabi does speak, it’s in a quiet voice, not looking at her. "I just don’t want to hurt you. Again."

It wasn’t your fault, lies at the tip of her tongue, but she’s said that already. It hasn’t helped much. "So that’s why you’ve been hanging out with Unit Delta."

"Yes. At least they aren’t weakened simply because of me being around."

"You know that hanging out with you more than makes up for any effect your powers have, right?" Farah tries for a smile, but it falls at the sight of Gabi’s eyebrows drawn together in a helpless expression.

"You can’t say that. Who knows what might happen next time?"

"I trust you, babe."

"Maybe you do, but I don’t." Gabi’s hands are balled into fists, electricity sparking around them. "I do not control these powers, Farah. They control me and at some point, they will— It feels like I’m destined to hurt you, one way or another."

“You don’t know that.” Farah rolls her lips together, the hairs on her arms standing up because of the static crackling in the air. "Or— Do you? Why— What did Li-Sar tell you when you met?"

Gabi doesn’t look away, holding Farah’s gaze as if it’s she's afraid of what will happen once she lets go. She swallows, the says in a whisper, "She said these powers would kill me."

Fear spikes through Farah. It makes her heart beat a frantic rhythm against the ribs, her own fear and Gabi’s indistinguishable. It’s telling her to grab Gabi’s hand and run, run, run, don’t look back. Except she can’t take those hands. They can't run from this.

“Gabes…” She jumps up to cross the space between them. "I will not let that happen. No," she shakes her head, "we won’t let that happen. You will be alright, I know you will be." She wills the words to be true, because they have to be.

She lets her fingertips drift along the contours of Gabi’s face, pushing aside the hair from her forehead and eventually coming to a rest on either side of her face.

Gabi searches her face, then sighs. "I can’t ask you to stay with me, not when I’m like this."

"You don’t need to ask anything. You’re a part of our team, Gabi, and— and I love you." It isn’t what she’d meant to say, but it’s not what she hadn’t meant to say either. The words just… come out like that. 

For a long few seconds, they stare at each other, then Gabi leans in to let her head rest against Farah’s stomach. "I think I love you too," she mumbles into Farah’s shirt, her breath filtering warm through the fabric.

Carding her fingers through Gabi’s hair, Farah clings to those words. They love each other, and there’s nothing that love cannot overcome, isn’t that right?

[alwaysthebiggerbear]

Only Ever Holding Onto You - 3: Same Old Shit - Beau Arlen x Female Reader

Story Summary: When Beau Arlen called and asked you to join him at the Lewis & Clark County Sheriff's Department, you knew you should have turned him down. Sure, he made a great case for your relocation, but it was the sound of his voice that had you putting in for an immediate transfer. After all, he was worried and needed you; how could you say no? Yet, the more time you spend in Big Sky Country, the more you wonder if you should have stayed in Houston. Chapter Summary: Beau takes some time off and Y/N does her best to deal with the fallout.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Deputy Sheriff!Female!Reader; Beau Arlen x Female!Reader Series Masterlist A/N: Personally, this is one of my favorites so far because I love Poppernak dearly but also I wanted to delve into the reader a bit more. This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Warnings: a ton of shit (literally); language; vindictive behavior Text graphics by me dividers by @firefly-graphics

You cursed quietly when you stepped in dog shit yet again. You took a deep breath to center yourself, knowing there was nothing you could do and that you would have a good hour or two of cleaning every single tread on the sole of your shoes when you got home to make sure all of the fecal matter was gone. For now, grass and a piece of cardboard that Poppernak hopefully had in the back of his car that could double as a floor mat would have to do. You opened your eyes and surged forward…right into another pile of dogshit.

“Motherfuck,” you hissed as you felt the familiar squishy feeling under your foot and the smell predictably wafted up to assault your nose. This place was a goddamn minefield!

You should have known, seeing the state the house was in as well as the makeshift garage. Not to mention the elderly age of the owners and the large lawn mower that clearly sat unused if the yards of rust covering it was anything to go by. This land hadn’t been worked in a long time; how could you expect that they would clean up dogshit where it remained hidden by grass that was long enough to wave with each passing breeze? Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pops very carefully moving forward on his chosen pathway, obsessively checking the ground before he took a step. It just hit you that there could even be snakes in here and you could be walking through their damn living room. Son of a bitch.

“Hey Pepper Snaps, be careful! There could be snakes,” you called.

“I wasn’t thinking about that but now I am. Thanks, Y/N.”

You may have rolled your eyes and hoped he stepped in the next pile of dogshit instead of you. 

“Did you find Goldie yet?” An old man shouted from behind you.

You turned around to see Lee Knutson, a man in his eighties, watching you from his porch along with his wife Marilyn, also in her eighties. Both of them owned this property and they had placed a call to the police reporting their dog Goldie as missing. They were frantic and because Helena PD loved to pass calls like this onto your department from time to time, here you were, looking for a dog in a place that could double as Jumanji to appease an old couple who loved their dog more than life itself. Hoyt had passed the call onto you with a smirk, saying “You’re an animal lover, right, Y/L/N? Why don’t you and Pop take this one?” Based on her passive aggressive comment, you knew she was still holding a grudge about your calling the Feds in on the Avuna Pharmaceutical case. You knew she had it in for you before that but now, you knew she was doing everything she could to make your life even more of a living hell as punishment. Especially when Beau publicly backed your play; that just made her burn even more. 

Having no choice other than to send Pops alone, you found yourself entering the previously uncharted wild jungle of Helena, Montana, with him right behind you. You both were wading through shit and a yard that looked like it could double as an apocalyptic landscape because you’d had the audacity to try to do the right thing in a case where all parties were concerned. Something that from what you’d heard, Hoyt would have most likely done herself back in the day. You knew deep down though that her fury at you had more to do with Beau refusing to bust your ass than the Feds getting involved. You had decided that you would let it continue to be her problem and just do your job, like always. But damn if you had imagined it would get this bad. You supposed you should be grateful she hadn’t sent you and Pops into a dangerous situation where you might not escape unscathed, like exchanging fire with a perp, though the smell that smacked you in the face when you turned to face the old man had you almost wishing she had. You’d take anything else anyday over this crap.

“Not yet,” you yelled back. “But don’t worry, Mr. Knutson, we’re still looking!” You hoped you sounded more hopeful than you felt. 

It really had been a shitty week, pun fucking intended. 

The morning after the very weird night you’d had at The Boot Heel, Beau wasn’t in the office. Madge told you he had simply called out, claiming that he was taking a few vacation days, and that he knew the department had things handled. You thanked the woman and frowned at Beau’s closed door as you passed. 

You had texted Beau the night before when you arrived home as he had asked you to, and he wished you a good night, letting you know he was safely home as well (he knew you too well). That had been the last time you heard from him which wouldn’t be that strange if he had shown up for work. You forced your worry back down and told yourself you were fretting over nothing, this spike in nerves you had was just a remnant from the previous evening. Your compass was most likely still recalibrating. Beau was fine, everyone and everything was fine, he had a right to take his well-earned vacation time especially since he never really took a day off — you were overreacting. But just to be safe, you texted Emily to check in. She got back to you within a few minutes, letting you know that she and her mom had a full day planned since they now had time to start painting their new home that they had moved into a few months back. 

Carla had been ready to leave Montana after Avery’s death and Emily’s abduction scare but Beau thankfully had talked her into staying, for Emily’s sake, for his sake — all of their sakes. As soon as Carla sold the property she had shared with Avery, Beau helped her and their daughter move into a new home in a closer neighborhood that she was able to get a good deal on. You knew Beau had been relieved when Carla agreed to stay and you had as well, for him and for you. There was no way you wouldn’t try to follow him back down to Houston if he had gone, especially not when Hoyt might take his place where she could make your life miserable full-time and on the county’s dime. Just like she was already doing this week.

Emily promised to send you pictures of the finished product and you wished her luck, telling her to call you if they needed a hand once your shift was over. Em and Carla were fine; that just left Beau.

Before you could type up a text to check in with him, a quick meeting assembled that you had no idea had even been planned. Hoyt took charge and completely dismissed you, laying down the law for the next few days. She would be distributing calls and deciding who to dispatch. Which you found awful funny because that was bound to create issues with the system Beau already had in place. Madge looked slightly put out until Hoyt wrapped an arm around her shoulders and told her she would need the older woman’s help. You watched the entire scene unfold, arms crossed and leaning against the doorway, smirking and enjoying the show. It didn’t surprise you in the least when she approached you and Pops last with your assignments for the morning, a triumphant grin on her face.

“A couple of calls came in late last night that I’d like you two to follow up on.” She handed the sheet of paper to Pops who took it and scanned it quickly. “You don’t mind, do you, Y/L/N?” 

Your smirk widened. She was clearly challenging you, practically daring you to say something. Beau had made it plain to her and the department often enough that you and Hoyt were equal in his eyes. Neither of you had authority over the other one. He told you later when it was just the two of you that he had done that out of respect for your career and experience thus far but also to give you a leg to stand on when it came to Hoyt. He understood that she worked hard in her position as undersheriff and he wasn’t trying to take that from her but he wanted you in the department working with him and he wasn’t going to demote you to make that happen. You were more than appreciative of his willingness to not only take you on and keep you with him but also to make sure you didn’t go backwards in pay or in your career. You found out later he had even taken a slight pay cut himself when he brought you on board, which you duly chastised him for later, not wanting him to sacrifice anymore than he already had. The response he gave you was a simple wink and his usual boyish smile. 

So Hoyt and the department knew where you stood, something the blonde was testing right now because Beau wasn’t here. The department didn’t give a crap if she took advantage and lorded it over you as long as it wasn’t them, and she expected you to either fold or go running to tell Beau or something along those lines. She clearly didn’t know you at all if she expected any type of reaction she was trying to get out of you. Your grin matched hers. “Not at all.”

Her blue eyes narrowed but then you could see the triumph in her smile, thinking she had won some imaginary victory over you. “Great.” You pushed the urge to roll your eyes deep down, knowing that if anything happened with the department over the next few days, the responsibility was on her alone, officially. Unofficially, you’d keep an eye out during Beau’s absence and not let everything turn to complete shit.

Your smile grew so much that your cheeks started to hurt.

Hoyt began to say something else but before she could get a word out, your phone started ringing. You pulled it out of your pocket and the name on the screen sent your heart into overdrive. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” You didn’t wait for Hoyt to respond or Pops, but one quick glance confirmed she had seen the screen as well. The glare she was currently gracing you with was the glare to end all glares. You ignored it and stepped away as planned, hearing her snap at Pops to make sure you didn’t stay on the phone too long and to get out the door, before storming away.

This time, you did roll your eyes, and you picked up the call.

“Beau?”

“Mornin’.” He sounded okay though his voice seemed a little more gravelly than usual. You attributed it to the early hour. 

“Morning. You okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just taking a few days.”

“Long overdue,” you agreed.

“Yeah,” he sighed. 

You glanced around and lowered your voice. “You really are okay, though? You’d tell me if something was wrong… Right? Like you coughing twice or asking me to take the pineapple slices off the pizza to indicate you’re being held against your will.”

He let out a laugh and that made you feel lighter than you had a moment ago. “I’m good, Y/N, I promise. Pineapple on pizza? How in the hell is that a pizza topping? I still don’t get it.”

“You would if you would ever try it when I order it.”

“I will never eat that crap. Who puts fruit on pizza anyway? Besides you?”

“A lot of the population in fact. That’s why it’s so popular,” you teased him.

“I’ve lost all hope for society.”

You finished taking a sip of your coffee. “Really? You’ve been working this job now for two decades and a yellow and very delicious fruit put on pizza is what finally did it for you?”

“Fruit doesn’t go on pizza, Y/N. I’m not having this debate with you again. Not this early,” he groaned.

“The trick is to get it without the sauce. That’s how I order it. It’s only weird tasting when the sauce is added into the mix.”

“If there’s no sauce, then how is it pizza?”

You snorted. “Pizza is all about the cheese.”

“And the sauce. Without sauce, it’s just bread and cheese.”

“Which incidentally are two of the most important ingredients for pizza.”

You smiled in victory when an exasperated sigh came down the line. “Okay, you win. So how do I get out of this conversation that’s happening against my will? Do I sneeze twice or ask for extra cheese?”

“Ha ha. You called me, remember that.” In your peripherals, you noticed Pops signaling to you and pointing to his watch. You nodded and held a finger up. Yes, you knew Hoyt couldn’t wait for you to go out on your crappy call list for the morning, and add more to it during the day most likely. Her pettiness could wait a few more minutes. Guaranteed, this was going to be the best part of your day and you weren’t giving it up that easily. “So, what are your plans for today? Have any or are you just taking it easy for the day?” 

“Actually, I’m gonna head over to Carla’s and help her and Em out for the day.”

A small smile settled onto your face. “Em will be really happy to see you.” And both she and Carla would be happy to have the extra practiced hand no doubt. You almost wished you could join them, to help Emily prank her father by rolling paint all over his clothes if for nothing else.

“Yeah, it’ll be good to see her, too. I didn’t get much sleep last night so I spent a lot of time thinking. About work, about life and…everything, and that’s why I took a few days off. I’m gonna try to convince Em to go camping with me over the weekend. I want to spend some time with my daughter before she graduates and goes off to college.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve got some time before that happens,” you murmured soothingly. You knew this was something he worried about, he’d told you often enough. He felt like he was losing time with Emily, that the window he had was closing more and more with each passing day. That feeling only ramped up after Em had been taken hostage. You couldn’t blame him; for the first few months after, you’d hugged Emily a little longer and a little tighter whenever you saw her, something she endlessly rolled her eyes at but kindly allowed you to do each time.

“Not much.”

You bit your lip, choosing to ignore Pops who appeared in front of you, frantically gesturing behind him. Rolling your eyes, you turned to the side, lowering your voice further. “I think it’s a great idea. I’m glad you’re doing this, taking some time for yourself and to spend with Em. To hell with everyone and everything else these next few days, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled.

“And if anyone calls you from the department, I will personally run over their cell phone with my car. Twice.”

“About that…”

“Beau,” you growled in warning, walking away from Pops who was dogging your every step.

“That’s why I’m calling you. I’m not taking any calls from work for the next few days, especially if I get Em to go camping with me. I don’t want any interruptions and I trust that you and Hoyt will have a handle on things while I’m gone.”

You pressed your lips together, hating to lie to your best friend, but it was important for him to take this time. He never willingly took time off and you knew he needed this time with Em, even before he said anything. And for him to have come to this decision so suddenly, you knew he meant it. There was never a single second that Beau hadn’t made himself accessible, day or night, for anyone in the department. So for him to go radio silent intentionally for any period of time, he meant business. “Understood,” you agreed.

“But, Y/N, saying that…I do want you to call me if anything pops up that you think I should know about.”

And there it was, the caveat. “I’m not calling you, Arlen. Like you said, we’ve got this.”

“I mean it. I’m only available to you, Y/N, no one else. I trust your judgment and I know you’ll filter out most of the white noise. But also, if you need anything…you call me.”

“I appreciate that but we’ll be okay,” you reassured, quickly stepping into an empty interrogation room and shutting the door on Pops. You managed to wedge a chair underneath the knob before he could try it, smirking in satisfaction when the door failed to give way and he started knocking instead while calling your name. “And listen, I don’t want to intrude on family time but if you do need a hand with the painting, I can always drop by later, repaint everything you did, take my pineapple pizza I’ll definitely be ordering for a job well done, and go.”

“Hey! I know how to paint!”

“Yeah, you also told me you knew how to cook, too.”

“I can grill,” Beau snapped.

You heard the chair beginning to budge and you pressed all of your weight against the door, trying to prevent Pops from opening it. “Uh huh. I think the charred left corner of your deck would beg to differ.”

“Wow. That was one time and everybody was okay. When are you gonna let that go?”

“Whenever you allow me to call in some hot Helena firefighters next time to put out the fire and let me watch rather than making me extinguish the flames myself with a fire extinguisher I luckily had in my car that day. I was cheated out of muscles and sweat and big, big fire hoses that get everything wet….all that water pressure—”

“Ah, ah, alright, alright. Stop. Bad images in my head. Never coming out now thanks to you.”

You couldn’t help but snicker. “You deserve it. Now, seriously, go enjoy your time with your daughter and leave the department to us. If you need help later or if you just need anything, give me a call.” Pops was pushing against you and you were ashamed to admit you were losing the battle. Your feet were sliding against the floor as the door struggled to open, the chair having been lost some moments ago.

“Thanks. I guess I’ll let you go so you can get to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” you struggled to get out. “Have fun. Give Em a hug from me.”

“Copy that. And Y/N?”

Pops finally pushed into the room and you had no choice but to abandon your post or be flat up against the wall. “Yeah?”

“Be careful out there.”

Pops was hunched over catching his breath, glaring up at you and pointing to his watch, mouthing “Hoyt”. You smiled sweetly down at him. “You know me. Always am.”

You hadn’t heard from Beau later that day but it was just as well. You had had the day from hell just as you’d expected. You settled down on your couch in the comfiest clothes you could find and binged Real Housewives of Dallas. You normally couldn’t stand these types of reality shows, but this one had grown on you and always provided the perfect distraction. That and Floribama Shore. Beau had been present for at least the first two episodes of the latter to which he stared over at you in disbelief, promptly got up to grab a beer, and told you that he didn’t know you. And you replied back that you didn’t mind as long as he was willing to bring a perfect stranger a beer from your kitchen.

While you were indulging in your comfort show, Em had sent you pictures of the painted rooms as promised. It looked good and you liked the colors she and Carla had picked out. You broke into hysterics when one picture had Beau posing in front of a perfectly painted wall with a smug smirk and holding his arms out proudly. Beau was so lucky you didn’t have the password to the department’s website; you would have uploaded the picture so fast it would have made Poppernak’s head spin. Another picture showed a great selfie of all of the family. You liked that one, all genuine smiles and plenty of paint all over every single one of them (Em obviously had taken your suggestion and started a paint fight, you were so proud), Emily posing in the middle between her parents. It was nice to see them enjoying themselves, especially after the year they’d had. 

You knew it hadn’t been easy for Carla to choose to stay in the same area she and her daughter had experienced so much trauma in; she had told you as much. It was important to her to keep what family she had left together, that’s why she initially wanted to move back to Houston. But when Beau had convinced her to stay, she did it to keep Emily’s family together though it cost her quite a bit personally. You did everything you could to help, leaning into the friendship you used to have with her back in Texas. Not to mention Carla and Cassie had also formed their own sort of friendship thanks to the mutual links of Beau, you, and Emily. There were quite a few times Denise had mentioned to you that she and Cassie had stopped in for tea when Carla was still trying to sell the old property. You all provided as much support as you could, to let her and Emily (and Beau by extension) know that they weren’t alone here.

Your phone chimed with the arrival of a new picture. This one had you bowled over with laughter for the next two minutes. Emily had taken a selfie of her and Beau making horrified faces at the camera, an open box of Hawaiian pizza next to them, the pineapple clear as day on top of the cheese (sans the sauce as you had ordered). Emily had added in text: “Thanks for the pizza…I guess?” You rolled your eyes, smiling, and texted her back that it was pizza and if she could get her dad to eat a piece, she absolutely had to record a video and send it to you. She sent a winky emoji back with a thumbs up when a new message came in from Beau.

You shrugged and quickly typed out a reply. 

You snickered at the emojis he sent in response. Beau didn’t usually do emojis, that had to be Em’s influence, and you sure were getting a kick out of it. 

Satisfied that you had more than made your point about pineapple on pizza being superior, you snuggled down into your pillows and started another episode of Real Housewives. Seeing location shots of Dallas intercut with the episode caused a little pang inside your chest. Perhaps that’s part of the reason you tolerated such a dramatic show. You had only been to Dallas once or twice but still, the images reminded you of home and it provided a tiny salve for your heart, something you needed after such a rough day. Smiling when you were flooded with happy memories, you slowly closed your eyes and you were out like a light before Leanne and Brandi could start fighting for the umpteenth time over who betrayed who while Stephanie watched from the background looking torn.

And the rest of the week had been just as rough. You had come to refer to it as Hell Week between you and Poppernak. Hoyt made sure to give you the worst calls she could pull from the list each morning, either giving them to you directly or giving them to Pops knowing you would join him so he had backup. And you were pretty sure she had Madge dispatching any bullshit calls to you both during the day. Truthfully, it was starting to wear on you a little but you refused to show any trace of it to Hoyt or anyone in the department. That’s exactly what she wanted and you’d die first before giving that spiteful little blonde one goddamn inch.

Poppernak had even mentioned something one afternoon as you rode about an hour outside of town for a new case. It wasn’t his norm to make comments on the ongoing conflict between you and Hoyt, choosing to cruise in neutral territory instead, but that’s how much of a fucked up week it had been.

“Man, what did you do to piss off Hoyt this time?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “I was born, I guess.”

He chuckled nervously and shook his head, turning his gaze back onto the road. “Or something.”

“Or something,” you echoed. 

You hadn’t heard from Beau in a couple of days except for a single text message to let you know that he had convinced Emily to go camping after all. He asked if everything was going okay and you assured him that all was well. It was a lie of course but you refused to tell him the truth. You were a big girl and you could take care of yourself. Besides, you chose to meet Hoyt’s petty bullshit with indifference. 

And now you here were, schlepping through three foot long grass like you were on a fucking safari, looking for some old couple’s runaway dog and finding every conceivable pile of dog shit for you to plow through. Pops was whistling and calling out for the dog in his area and you were pretty sure he hadn’t moved any further since you warned him about potential snakes. Normally, you would have rolled your eyes and planned to tease him later about his apprehension, but in this situation, you couldn’t help but think that he was the smart one. You kept surging forward blindly, hence the crap all over your shoes. 

You had made it a few more feet when suddenly a dark head popped up not that far from your position, startling you and making you gasp. Your eyes went wide when you realized what you were looking at. Was that a…wolf? A goddamn wolf? 

Poppernak called out the name of the dog, and the wolf’s head snapped in his direction. You were stunned, but you still had enough presence of mind to call over to your partner albeit calmly so as not to startle the animal in front of you. “Pops! Shhh.”

“What was that, Y/N? I didn’t catch that. You see something?” He yelled back, making you grind your teeth together.

You carefully raised a hand in his direction to get his attention. “I need you to be quiet,” you carefully enunciated as you watched the wolf staring you down. “There is a wolf in front of me.”

“I’m sorry, did you say a wolf?” Poppernak cried out in a mix of disbelief and alarm. You bit your lip to keep from screaming out at him to shut his trap like you desperately wanted to. The more loud sounds that were made seemed to agitate the wolf and you were right in its sights. If you somehow survived this, you were going to give Pops a serious talking to. If you told him to shut it out in the field while working with him, he needed to shut his damn mouth, no questions asked, case closed.

“Pops, stop making so much noise. You’re pissing it off,” you said as calmly as possible.

“What do you want me to do?” Pops chose to loudly whisper instead. “Should I call Animal Control?”

The wolf bared its teeth at you and growled. Great.

“Don’t think that’s gonna help.”

You watched as the animal tensed and coiled in a backwards motion, almost as if it was getting into an attack position. Your instincts warred with one another; you wanted to reach for your gun to protect yourself but you also didn’t want to make any movements that might pose more of a threat. From the continued growling and its yellow-eyed laser focus on you, it was obvious you were already considered one.

“Y/N,” Poppernak stage whispered to you. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered back. “They didn’t cover wolves in training at the academy.”

“I don’t know, either.”

“You’re from around here, Pops. How the hell do you not know what to do?”

“Hey, they didn’t cover this in training here, either. That’s why we have Animal Control.”

“Pops!”

“Okay, okay. Whatever you do, don’t look it in the eyes. I think I remember my grandpa telling me if you do that with a bear, they’ll take it as a challenge and it’ll make them want to attack.”

The wolf growled at you and coiled back further, making you let out a nervous breath. “It’s a little late for that, Pepper Snaps.”

“Hang on, Y/N. I’m coming.”

“No! Stay where you are!” You yelled out in shock, wincing when you realized your mistake.

You saw more teeth and heard another growl. You decided the hell with it, and slowly moved to grab your gun. This thing was going to attack you, that was obvious, and while you’d rather it just turn and run in the opposite direction, you had to defend yourself. At that very inopportune moment, your phone vibrated in your pocket and your head snapped up, gasping when you noticed the animal ready itself to spring at you. This was it; you were done for. One of your last thoughts was that you hoped your being mauled by one of the apex predators of Montana finally lit a fire under Beau to prompt him to action and he ripped Hoyt a new one for sending you and Pops out into the fucking wilderness with no backup or protection.

“Goldie!” The old man called out from the porch. “Here, girl!” He’d obviously given up trusting that you and Poppernak would find his dog. Based on the wolf in front of you, you had a feeling you knew where the missing pet had gone. 

Almost as if it heard that thought and it had reached its limit on irritation, the animal growled and sprung forward at you, making you surge backwards and cry out as you fell promptly on your ass, right into several piles of dogshit you had somehow missed before. You held an arm up in front of your face as a last defense and closed your eyes, anticipating the feeling of those sharp teeth you had seen and the ensuing pain.

“Y/N!” Poppernak shouted. You could hear him running towards you. “I’m coming!”

 Much to your surprise, the pain didn’t come. The impact didn’t even happen. Your eyes snapped open in time to see a tail whooshing past you. In shock, you watched as the wolf broke into a run towards the house. 

“Pops! It’s heading towards the house!” You managed to get out. “The Knutsons!”

“Oh shit!” Had this been any other time, you would have laughed in surprise at Pops’ cursing; he never cursed. But this wasn’t any other time. “Mr. Knutson, get in the house! Get Mrs. Knutson and get inside! NOW!”

You went into a panic when you saw Lee make eye contact with the animal and instead of grabbing his wife and fleeing into the house as Pops instructed, a huge smile broke out onto his face and he held his arms out. “Goldie!”

The wolf increased its speed and you pulled your gun, jumping to your feet and running as fast as you could, Poppernak not too far behind you, both of you thinking the same thing: Lee was old and his eyesight might not be the best. He probably believed he saw his dog running towards him and being overwhelmed with relief, he didn’t think anything of it. He probably hadn’t even heard Pops’ yells too well, either, but even if he had, he’d probably think the deputy was mistaken. He was seeing his dog returning home to him. There was no way you were going to match the speed of the animal, it was going to beat you to the Knutsons, but you were determined to try. You just hoped you got there in time enough that the injuries wouldn’t be too bad. 

You heard the wolf bark as it jumped onto the porch, right at the old man. “Get back, sir!” Poppernak yelled next to you. Your lungs and legs were burning, but you pushed yourself to pick up speed and gave it all you had, making leaps over little objects that littered the portion of the yard you were in to give yourself more momentum.    

But to your surprise, the wolf stopped right before colliding with Lee, and instead raised up on its hind legs, placing its paws on his chest. “Shit,” you panted out and pumped your arms to help you move even faster. The wolf’s tongue was hanging out in between barks and you were close enough now to hear it let out a few cries, too. But thankfully, it didn’t attack Lee, or Marilyn when she got up and hurried over, the smile on her face mirroring her husband’s. It also didn’t bite Lee as he petted its huge head.

“Goldie! Where have you been? We’ve been so worried about you!” The wolf barked in the man’s face, making him laugh.

You and Poppernak came to a halt right in front of the house and began to raise your guns to porch level and stopped, thinking the older couple was still confused. “Mr. Knutson, be very careful,” the deputy warned. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

Both Lee and Marilyn glanced down at you in confusion. “What do you mean?” The former asked.

“Mrs. Knutson, carefully step away, slowly,” you added. You were still working out in your head how you were going to get Lee safely out of the way and how you could scare the wolf off so you wouldn’t have to shoot it. Poppernak could then call Animal Control and get them out here so the Knutsons would be safe. Catching a whiff of yourself, realizing it was actually wolf shit you had been trekking through this entire time, you even entertained the thought of looking into getting someone out here to clean up the property for them.

Marilyn’s brows furrowed. “Why? You found our Goldie!”

“Ma’am, that’s not Goldie,” Pops calmly stated, both of your eyes still centered on the large animal who growled in your direction.

“Yes, it is!” Lee insisted.

“Sir,” you began. “I’m afraid it’s not.” You really didn’t desire to tell these people that their beloved dog was gone, most likely killed by the predator in front of them, but that was something you could worry about after everyone was safe. 

“It is too Goldie! Watch!” Lee glanced down at the animal, forcing it to make eye contact. “Goldie, sit!”

And to both yours and Poppernak’s shock, the wolf jumped down and did just that, looking as docile as any well-trained pet. 

“Good girl,” Lee praised. “Now, lay down.” The wolf again did as the old man instructed, wagging its tail.

You and your partner exchanged a mystified look; had the Knutsons been feeding a wolf this whole time? And now it was following their commands? How was this even possible? Just when you thought you’d seen everything.

Lee began to laugh. “Oh, I see. You think she’s a wolf from the wild, right?” 

You failed to see the humor and swiftly nodded, still keeping your eye on the animal. “She’s not?” Poppernak asked in disbelief.

“Oh my Lord, no. Goldie here is a hybrid. We’ve had her since she was a pup. Got her from a breeder. So you can relax now and put those guns away. You’re making her nervous.”

Poppernak slowly placed his back in his holster but you simply lowered yours. The wolf may now be watching you in keen interest, tongue lolling out of its mouth and panting heavily, but you still remembered how aggressive it looked back in the yard when you came across it. You weren’t blindly trusting what the old man was telling you; you needed proof first.

“Mr. Knutson, when I asked you what your dog looked like, you told me it had black fur and yellow—”

“Eyes,” Lee finished for you. “That’s why we call her Goldie. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

One glance at the wolf confirmed the rich gold staring back at you. 

“But when we asked you the breed, you said it was a mutt, half King Shepherd. Not to mention it was about to attack Y/L/N here.” You gave a subtle nod of appreciation to your partner at that last little mention. Both of you were trying to desperately make sense of this odd situation. Especially since you asked for a photo of Goldie and you were told you didn’t need one since she had to be lost on the property somewhere, possibly hurt or dying. It wasn’t like her not to come home by nightfall; her being missing for two days straight, she was in trouble. Their urgency overrode your attempts to get a visual of the animal you were looking for. You’d even tried to persuade them to supply you with a photo anyway but Lee had been adamant, which is exactly why you and Pops had been making your way through the endless yard.

“That’s her dog half. And a hybrid is a mutt,” Lee mused, smiling down at his pet. “I know she’s big and scary looking but I assure you she’s harmless. You probably just scared her is all. She doesn’t care for trespassers and she’s a little wary of visitors.” Marilyn nodded along with him.

You looked over at Pops who gave you a shrug, unsure of how to proceed. You let out a heavy breath and slipped your gun back into your holster, your gaze landing back on the wolf who laid her head down on her paws, almost as if she was trying to look innocent of the accusation that had just been made against her. Your eyes lifted to her owner when a thought hit you.

“You got her from a breeder, you say? Surely you’ll have papers for her then.”

Lee scratched at his head. “We do, somewhere. It’d take us forever to find it but, hey! You ask the sheriff or Miss Hoyt. They know Goldie, they know she’s legal.”

Your jaw tensed at the mention of the undersheriff. You knew she was saving the worst calls for you to go out on and you had accepted this week was pure hell that you would get through no matter what, but this…this was just plain vindictiveness at its best. Now the smirk she’d given you when giving you this call made sense, along with her insisting Animal Control wasn’t needed when you mentioned it and the Knutsons were a lovely old couple that just needed a little hand holding since they didn’t have anyone else, their kids and grandkids having long ago moved out of state.

“Y/L/N, the dog is probably somewhere in the yard and they don’t even know it. It would mean a lot to them if we respond to let them know we’re taking it seriously. Just go out there, look around, whistle a few times, and if the dog doesn’t come running, then tell them we’ll put flyers up. Open and shut case, trust me.”

You weren’t a violent person by any means. You could certainly hold your own in a fight but that wasn’t the way you preferred to resolve things. But if Hoyt were here in front of you right this second, you would have decked her.

You glared over at Poppernak who was gaping over at you. He seemed just as surprised as you so that made you feel slightly better. At least the whole department hadn’t been in on this. You gave Lee a curt nod and turned to head back to the car, more than done for the day, when you heard a loud gasp from behind you.

“Oh, honey.” You spun around, thinking the worst only to find Marilyn holding a hand over her mouth, her gaze intent on you, while Lee appeared to be struggling to hold in a laugh. You knew it before she even said it. “You are just covered in…in…”

“Dog shit,” Lee finished for his wife and burst out into laughter. Goldie began barking excitedly, almost as if she was trying to laugh along with her owner. She ignored the glare you sent her way and kept on barking. You glanced down and you were indeed covered in the excrement. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pops hold a closed fist up to his mouth, making a sound that suspiciously sounded like a chuckle and taking a step away from you. You scowled over at him, daring him to join in the laughter. The chuckle morphed into a sudden cough mixed in with a throat clearing, his expression turning sheepish.

Marilyn didn’t laugh, though. “I have some baby wipes,” she offered.

“Thank you,” you grumbled, not able to inject any gratitude into your voice just then. You hoped you didn’t sound too rude. Baby wipes were certainly better than nothing. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Marilyn hurried inside the house and you couldn’t help but continue to glare at the dog who watched you intently, tongue hanging out, not a care in the world, and a gleam in her golden eyes that confirmed for you that she found your predicament just as entertaining as her owner did. You shot her a ferocious glare as you worked to get your jacket off carefully with Poppernak’s help. Seeing the excrement now caked underneath your fingernails, you left out an irritated huff. Hell week indeed.

A/N: Chapter 4 coming soon...

[cupidkenji]

Virginia vampire - 1/2

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x vampire!fem!reader Cw: SLOWBURN BRO, descriptions of hunting/blood consumption, angst, fluff, non-descriptive mentions of an abusive dad, cursing, typical criminal minds violence, possible ED trigger (more in disclaimer), idk bro you tell me Summary: You escaped your scientist father when you were 17. When requested by Quantico PD to deal with a stemming serial killer, you realize you recognize the wounds. You used to be the one inflicting them. Disclaimer 1: Reader is chubby! She's not physically described here at all but a fat woman is always the MC. Disclaimer 2: Reader lives strictly on blood. This story discusses themes of intense bloodlust/hunger, UNINTENTIONAL avoidance of blood (food), and physical consequences due to not eating (more so in the next chapter). This is NOT pro-ana or anything like that, and while these themes are explicitly negative, they are still there and may affect those struggling. Please look after yourself, this is all fantasy and is not meant to trigger you. That's all <3 WC: 9.6k - read part 2 here Like I said, please head the disclaimer as I would hate for anyone to feel negatively about this. I personally have struggled with a restrictive ED and would not write/publish anything I felt would trigger/contribute to pro-ED rhetoric. I'm actually rlly proud of this one I think it's cool and neat and I'm excited to share. I also looped eat your young by Hozier while writing this so would recommend as ambiance. Enjoy <33

The Quantico streets seemed to get darker the more you came out. It was late - technically early, as midnight had passed two hours ago - but still a time of pungent heathenism. Nobody out at this hour had good intentions. You knew yours were certainly questionable, discreetly following a man decked in club attire as he stumbled his way down the street. This was the worst part - having to stalk behind them, giving you nothing but time to humanize them in your head. He was probably going home, back to safety. The process of hiding a body is one you could recite with your eyes closed. It’s bitter and metallic, but familiar, and you seemed to project that harbored guilt onto him. It wasn’t as though he’d never see that safety again, you didn’t kill people anymore. Your unusual diet required this type of robbery, but you’d busted your ass for almost three years to figure out the perfect amount. The amount that keeps you just on the cusp of living, closer to death than most but still able to function effectively. The number of times you felt a heart cease it’s beating against your lips because you went too far would strike envy in the evilest of individuals. The amount you took was pure necessity - a full syringe, never a drop more. It would last you about half the week when rationed out. It was livable, doable, only ever being a problem if you couldn’t get more the exact night you needed to. 

You hated preying on drunks, the alcohol in their blood making it taste rancid, but this was the easiest target you could ask for. Beggars can’t be choosers. He took a moment to catch his breath after he nearly toppled over, and you saw your opportunity on a silver platter. Contrary to the movies, stealth was not an inherent trait you get when you live on blood, you’d gained yours from experience. You never liked being so good at this, but as you rendered the man unconscious and silenced his fall to the ground, you relished in the fact that you were. The days of amateur hunting were long over, and the cries of people as the blood rushed from their necks are ones that echo - ones that sit with you. 

You dragged the man to the innards of the closest alley, propping him against the wall and rolling up his jacket sleeve. You took off the bag hanging from your shoulders, removing a syringe and a flashlight. Since you hunted at night, it was impossible to find a vein without lighting. It was something you realized quick when you made the switch from neck to wrist. You turned the thing on, clamping it between your teeth and angling it down at his arm. Growing up with the world’s cruelest biologist as a father, you were well versed in the world of human anatomy per his insistence. You watched the vial fill with liquid, cursing your entire situation for being so despicable. The only way to properly describe your father was Frankenstein, eagerly allowing his only child to grow into the role of his monster. He’d handcrafted your DNA in a petri dish, ensuring that malice was weaved throughout your most instinctual needs. He was a well off man, respectively referred to as the brightest mind in our current age. He’d gained fame after presenting his magnum opus - the invention of literal vampirism. Somehow, something only he knew how to do, he’d made a string of DNA that derived the body’s energy from the nutrients in blood. He started with insects, impregnating beetles with the specific code, making embryos that fed purely on blood of the same species, which manifested into a hostile blood lust once the thing was born. He’d reached rodents and promised he would be ending his tests there, not wanting to breach the topic of morality and push forward with mammals. Unfortunately, your father was as honest as he was kind, so here you were. 

You finished the extraction and pulled the needle from the man’s flesh, apologizing profusely under your breath. You patched him up, a bandaid over the small hole, and hid him amongst some garbage bags. Nobody out at this hour had good intentions, and you weren’t about to offer them a possible victim for whatever desire they may be looking to express. You hated that you had to hurt him at all, no matter how minimally. The least you could do was shield him from the people who truly intended harm. You tossed the now full syringe back into your bag, the flashlight following a second later, and exited the alley. The only thing that kept your feet moving was the few days of peace you would get now that you had food. Your head pounded with the feeling of blood just sitting in your bag, the body full of blood laying defenseless just a few feet away. It was a battle you fought everyday, seeing those closest to you as two separate entities - one was a person you loved, one just a plethora of functioning veins and arteries. Their lifeforce was the closest thing to ambrosia you could imagine. It’d taken you years to get control, though, and you refused to undo that for a couple minutes of gratification. You couldn’t. Losing control would grant your father the victory he ached for, and you would die before letting that happen. You rushed to walk away, choosing to propel yourself with the image of his disappointed face rather than the breathing blood bag leaning on a dumpster. He’d killed your mother before you even got to know her, you refused to be the reason someone didn’t get to know their parent.

–

The BAU was an unwelcome sight when the time was five in the morning instead of your usual seven. You’d been ushered to the building by a sleep deprived JJ, spouting off different remarks of remorse for the early hour but needing the team there immediately. The whole table seemed to share in the disdain, as half of them could barely hold their eyes open and the other half were practically chugging shitty break-room coffee. Aaron was, surprisingly, the last to walk in. Greeting everyone with attempted normalcy while visibly fighting off his own exhaustion. His hair was messy, his torso lacking the coverage of his uniform baggy blazer. The sight of him slightly unkempt from the spontaneity of the gathering caused the air to flee from your lungs. You’d had a bit of a staring problem since you started working here, but his appearance now displayed a casualness that was making you dizzy. The deviation from his standard presentation felt strangely intimate, a more personal version of him. You looked away quickly, you had to. He took his spot next to you, having reserved that place for himself when you were first hired. He greeted you personally once he sat down, something for just the two of you. You had looked at him, about to reciprocate when JJ officially started the meeting. 

“Good morning, everyone. I’m sorry for the early start but we’ve been urgently requested by our local PD. They think we’ve got the start of a serial killer, three bodies were found last night with the same MO.”

“Three bodies?” Morgan’s words were laced with bewilderment. “As in three people were actually killed or three bodies were dumped?” The table knew what he was getting at. Three murders in a single night was quite the task. Especially considering the police had to find the bodies, meaning no pedestrian had seen anything worth reporting.

“They’ve left the crime scenes untouched for us, but they’re betting all of them happened in the same time span.”

As if he could read your mind, Hotch asked the main question that’d been circling your mind. “How are they being killed?”

“That’s why we’ve been asked for.” JJ started distributing files containing the crime scene details. “All the victims so far have the same stab wound in their carotid. Nothing had been stolen, and they were all found in alleyways. For the amount of blood that comes with puncturing an artery, there wasn’t a drop found at the scene.” 

“No signs of torture?” Morgan was looking at the photos as he asked, double checking the information he was reading in the file.

“All of them were basically untouched from the neck down. There weren’t even indications of defense.” JJ shook her head as she spoke. “This guy definitely gets the jump on them.”

“A blitz attacker.” Prentiss concluded, closing her file as she reached the end of it. “Any witnesses?”

“None.” The worst answer JJ could have. “Police found them while on patrol.” 

“Alright.” Hotch stood from his seat. “Prentiss, Morgan, I want you at the first scene.” The agents nodded at the orders, exiting the room to complete the task. He looked towards Spencer, drawing his attention away from the file as he addressed him. “When Rossi gets here I want you guys at the second body.”  The man just uttered a “got it” and looked back down, waiting on Rossi’s presence to start moving. Aaron’s eyes made their way to you. “I want you with me. We’re gonna go meet the officers at the latest discovery.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, feigning preoccupation with closing your folder and simply muttering a noise of agreement before standing. 

“I told the press to keep it quiet. Last thing we need is word of a mini spree leaking to the public.” JJ informed the remaining people of this on her way out, peeking her head back through the door to say it before returning to her office. You watched Rossi finally show up and retrieve Reid from the conference room as you were leaving, heading to the car with Aaron close behind. 

Once you were buckled into the passenger seat, you started talking. “Three bodies in under twelve hours. Haven’t heard those numbers since the Barly Butcher in ‘64.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t reach that.” His eyes, although you couldn’t see them, went slightly vacant at the thought. He couldn’t imagine dealing with that level of killer in the modern age - he certainly didn’t want to. “One was too many. God knows we don’t need a Quantico butcher.”

You couldn’t imagine either. “No kidding.” The drive wasn’t shaping up to be a long one, seven minutes went by and you were already approaching the flashing lights of cop cruisers. You got out of the car, the sheriff swiftly coming over to talk. She had thanked you for taking the case, grateful that her precinct wouldn’t be dealing with this one alone. There were CSI already there, but you slid gloves on your hand and headed towards the body regardless. They were respectful, allowing you control of the scene, walking away as you got closer to give you space. 

You turned the woman’s neck slightly to get a better view of the injury, the image shaking the ground beneath your feet and causing the water in your tear ducts to form a haze over your eyes. There were teeth marks around the incision. Such a minor indent that it was no surprise it went over looked. You could see it because you’d once been the cause of such a thing. The closer you examined, the more parallels you drew to your beginner days. The skin around the wound was curling upwards, a sign of applied suction. No wonder they couldn’t find any blood, it’d been sucked out. You nearly fell off your feet from where you were crouching. The unsub clearly knew enough about the human body to inflict such a precise cut, pair that with the obvious motivation to feed and you got the bone-chilling realization currently seeping through you. He’d made another one. You had a sibling, and he was hungry.

–

When the regroup was called back at headquarters, you lead an uninformed and slightly confused Aaron to meet the rest of the team. He’d noticed your determination at the scene, questioning your findings and being eager to get back when you made him wait to hear about it. You wasted no time as you entered the room, pulling up the image on the big screen to properly show them your theory. 

“The unsub is drinking their blood.” Looks of defeat and absurdity were present in all of their eyes, but you continued explaining, zooming in so close that the image went slightly blurry. “If you look close enough there are teeth prints around the wound, not bite marks, but the type of print you get from resting your teeth around the wound and applying pressure. The edges of the wound are curling in and up, so it can be assumed some type of suction followed the stabbing.” Most of the team was squinting at the screen, absorbing the details you pointed out and already trying to form a timeline, a motive - something. “That’s why they couldn’t find any blood. It was consumed.”

“So we’re dealing with a vampire?” Morgan sighed, his eyes detailing a reluctant belief. He couldn’t argue with your theory yet, it was the only logical thing they had. “Maybe we should visit your dad, Y/n.” 

You scoffed at the quip, images of the man throughout your early life flashing through your head. “Funny.” You furrowed your brows at him. “You’d have to find him first.” You had slipped from his grasp when you were seventeen. The home you spent your childhood in was vacant a few years later, effectively severing all your remaining knowledge of his life. You’d never had any way to contact him, only the relics of his stories that refused to leave you. The only thing he ever spoke about was himself, and most of his tales were burned into your memory like a branding. If you were honest, you’re surprised he’d never physically branded you, he’d surely thought about it. The dread started to build in your gut. You handled most cases with a healthy distance, some could regard it as a coldness but you preferred the simplicity of your process. This, however, was impossible to deal with impersonally. This threw you headfirst into a situation you had never bothered to prep for. Not only would you be seeing how your team feels about what was essentially an early version of you, but you didn’t want to prosecute this unsub. His path was one you walked for years before acquiring the life you have now. You hadn’t been a villain, there was a high chance he wasn’t either. The bloodlust was controllable, he just needed someone to teach him. Pursuing him with the vigor of a typical unsub would wreck you. You felt protective, almost maternal. Your father had made another monster, but that didn’t have to mean they live a life of his design. You could get him out.

“Can I speak with you?” You hadn’t even noticed the analytical gaze Aaron held, too focused on your own internal spiraling. “Outside?” He motioned his head towards the hallway, instructing you to follow him.

You always felt like a kid in the principal’s office when he called you away from the team. “What’s up?” You hadn’t even waited for him to fully shut the door before you prompted the conversation. You were fully prepared to raise hell and high water to find your unsub, and you needed all the time you could get.

“Is something going on?” He always took extra time to check on your wellbeing. You figured at first it was pity, some type of undermining or an indication he thought you were less equipped for the job than others. He’d never hinted at any of those, always showing genuine concern for you, and eventually you stopped thinking he had ulterior motives. “You’ve been skittish and antsy since you saw the body. You’re speaking faster and can’t look me in the eyes. You’re nervous. Why?”

“Hotch.” You sighed his name, and he tilted his head, leaning in slightly as though pulled in by the sound. “I am nervous. There were three people murdered last night. If this guy is drinking the blood of his victims seconds after he kills, there’s no predicting how long the cool-down will be. He could strike again tonight or he could be gone for weeks. I don’t want more people losing their lives because we waited around too long. I need to figure this out.”

He could tell you were withholding something, you saw it in the way he looked at you. Thankfully, though, he allowed you to keep your secret. Breathing out a sigh of his own and just nodding. “You know where to find me if you want to talk.” 

You held back the look of pure adoration you wanted to send his way, settling for the appropriate neutrality. “I know.”

You both rejoined the team shortly after, ignoring the curious looks of your coworkers and instead inserting yourself into the conversation. Reid went over the typical blood fetishists, along with the multiple philias and phobias associated with blood consumption. All of them falling flat in one way or another. You suggested swabbing the victim’s neck for traces of saliva, Prentiss calling to request the task be performed the second you’d said it. With hours going by and the promise of lab results by tomorrow, you all said your goodbyes. You said a silent prayer under your breath for a body-less night and drove home with a plan. If he was like you, he’d be out again tonight, and you had every intention of finding him.

–

This was the first time in your life you’d ever felt thankful for your knowledge of nightlife. Patrol was amping up, tonight it was one too many cop cars on the street. Tomorrow it could be officers searching the area on foot. With no way to predict the criminal, there was also no way to predict the response, and that was scary as hell. Any attempts they were making to stop him from feeding would affect you just as bad. There hadn’t been a single event since you started hunting more ethically that you’d had to break routine. You wanted to help him, but you also needed to stop him from fucking up your regimen. You were wandering, aimless and anxious. You tried connecting to whatever energetic wavelength you might have with him considering your partial relation, getting nothing but a firm reminder of why that stuff wasn’t considered fact. You ducked away from the second police cruiser of the night, just barely evading the lights before their illumination painted your face red and blue. The alley was a welcoming partner, allowing her shadows to drape over you and create a solitude unique to that darkness. You’d heard the noises a second later - panting, consistent and ragged, followed by a period of silence before resuming. You clicked on your flashlight, shining it maybe ten feet ahead of you and feeling like someone threw sand in your eyes. He was here, dressed in jeans and a black zip-up, hood over the back of his head. You wouldn’t have been able to see him even if his hood was down - he was crouched over a woman, shoulders hunched and mouth greedily stealing what little life she had left to give. He was so small, you physically felt your lips curl in sorrow when you realized he couldn’t be more than fifteen. The woman’s fingers were still flexed, and you assumed she’d died less than a minute ago by her arm placement. They were crooked at the elbow but weirdly resting on the assailant, as though she’d been gripping his shoulders before her strength blew out with the wind. 

You waited, just a moment, stilling to see what move - if any - he would make. He was completely entrenched in his task, but you were surprised your light hadn’t set him off yet. It was only when the river ran dry that he seemed to notice your voyeurism. His head snapped in your direction so fast that you jumped on your feet a little. You thought back to how volatile you’d been in his shoes, deciding the best way to approach him would be that of a rabid animal. You inched closer, seeing him mirror you with a slight back-step. 

“Hey.” You talked quietly, breathily, trying to subdue any dominant undertones you could be carrying. “I need you to listen to me, ok?” You crouched, hoping to put the two of you on the same level. “I know you’re not trying to hurt anyone. You’re hungry, yeah? You’re hungry and I know it fucking hurts. Worse than you ever imagined it could.” You thought back to the days of captivity. Your father made you the absolute pinnacle of gluttony, feeding you even when you finally didn’t want it, engorging you with the only thing you could sustain yourself with. Going from a state of constant overflow to barely a drip-feed was agony, causing fits of hunger so extreme that it was a miracle he hadn’t hit double digits by now. “I can help you, alright? I’ve been there. It doesn’t have to be this way - I promise it’s manageable.” You really should have planned some sort of script for this, you were winging it and from the accusatory look he was wearing, you didn’t think it was working. 

You asked if he knew your father, hoping to establish some reputability in his mind and prove you knew what you were talking about. The name, though, seemed to hit him like a bullet. He took off running and blew past you so fast it knocked you over. You jumped up as quick as you’d been put down and set off after him. The kid was fast, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you lost him. He had the advantage of being half your height in a city full of narrow shortcuts. You pleaded with him in between breaths to just listen to you, promised you didn’t want to hurt him, all of it was futile. He ducked into a subway and slipped from your grasp before you even knew you had him. Your eyes teared up from frustration, so close to being the saving grace you were desperate to be but just managing to graze it before it leaped away from you. You felt the toll of such a run immediately sodden your legs and weaken your lungs. You didn’t have nearly enough fuel in the tank to give chase, but what were you supposed to do? You’d seen him, almost had him before the acidity of your fathers name melted all the progress you were making. Fitting, you thought. You slipped your phone out of your pocket, you were still an agent who had just found a body. Another victim in a string of serial killings; if you didn’t report it and were traced at all back to the scene you could be fired - or arrested. Hotch’s contact burned a hole straight through your pupils. How the fuck were you gonna explain this? You just happened to be on a classic midnight walk alone as a woman in the city currently housing a vampiric serial killer. You could almost hear the crease of his eyebrows as you told him where you were, requesting the team be awoken and the local PD be sent to you. You’re sure he could hear the ball in your throat as your vision got watery again. He promised he’d be there soon, telling you to hang tight. He was comforting, but there was a determination in his voice that told you he wasn’t letting it go this time. You didn’t know how to prepare for whatever that meant, but you knew some worms would be leaving the can. 

Ten minutes later and you heard the familiar shout of your last name. “What the hell happened?” Morgan seemed worried you’d been attacked, scanning over you to check for any signs of injury. He wouldn’t find anything but your rapidly rising chest.

You watched the EMTs wheel away the woman in a body bag, locking your gaze on Derek when you started to feel nauseous. “I’m fine.” You crossed your arms, rationalizing that maybe a physical security would grant you the strength needed to conceal this mess. “I live right up the road. I go out walking sometimes when I can’t sleep. I just saw the body in the alley, guy was gone by the time I found her.” 

He seemed relieved at your avoidance but also completely floored by the stupidity of walking so late. “Stop walking alone at night.” He was clearly protective. “That's why some of these cases are even possible.” He looked at you, taking your story as truth without a second thought and letting a sense of mourning flood his irises. “I don’t know how I’d cope with having to put you in one of those bags.” How charming. “You get me?”

You looked at him, putting on a face of regretful understanding and simply uttered back a quiet “I got you.” to hopefully dodge all the attention he was giving you. 

He chuckled, looking behind you and gaining a sort of cringe in his smile. “Good luck with that.” He nodded towards whatever was approaching and joined the congregation of other agents and officers, essentially isolating you with the thing you’d been dreading most. Aaron Hotch.

“Aaron-” You turned around to face him but stopped talking when you saw the look he cast at you. Something so curious and pleading for the knowledge you withheld, he seemed to manually dim it with the aspect of his authority. He was your supervisor, but he cared for you as something deeper than that.

“We’re heading back to the BAU. I want you in my office when we get there. We need to talk about this.” He waited a second, letting the unusual professionalism sink into you before seeking confirmation. “Am I clear?” He was gentle in delivery, but the fear you’d betrayed him weighed heavy on you.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, looking at him. He wasn’t mad, and you didn’t regret the decisions that got you here. Your mind was simply racing with any plausible lie you could tell him to escape this situation unscathed. He knew you better than you were even aware of, you didn’t know if you could get away with lying at all, let alone lying in excess. You just prayed he was feeling particularly forgiving, along with hoping he was especially tired due to the hour. If you lucked out, you might only have to relinquish your integrity instead of the truth.

–

The sound of his door closing felt like the final sign of your demise. He hadn’t slammed it, he’d shut it gently and moved to sit opposite you in his office chair. You couldn’t remember a time he’d been genuinely angry with you. Right now he simply reeked of desperation, of empathy, and it was that notion that kept your eyes from meeting his.

“What’s going on, Y/n?” He was so soft, the tone of his voice combing through your ears like hypnotism. You were so fucking guilty.

You stared at his name card and wondered immaturely how it would feel to share a surname with the man. “I told you what happened.”

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “You told them what happened.” You begged him internally to just leave it alone. “Now I’m asking you to talk to me. You can’t even look at me. You seem to think that because you can conceal the standard signs of lying that nobody can tell. You slip past their radar because they don’t know your tells, Y/n.” Your heart sped up, he’d probably known you were keeping something from him before you’d even made the choice to. “The top of your middle finger covers your index when you’re lying or when you’re not telling me something, you know that? Every single time. You haven’t held a conversation in the past week without doing it.” He clasped his hands on the table, readjusting to really focus on you. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Something about him always had a way of wearing you down. You’d been smothering the feelings you held for him for years, so when he showed such devotion to you, he could wring you out like a sponge with just a sentence. You visibly deflated, shoulder slumping forward. “I saw him.”

He straightened, assessing how to tackle a statement like that. “You saw the unsub?” You just nodded. “Do you know how important that information is?” He seemed bewildered, even a little angry at the fact you didn’t tell them. “You know better than most how significant every sighting is. Why would you ever keep something like that from us?” He was speaking slightly faster, confused frustration filling his words as he continued. “It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt, Y/n. This was extremely reckless, I don’t understand how you could-”

“Hotch.” You’d never had to speak over him before. “He’s my family.” The words were coated in bile as they left you - this was a steep slope. You hadn’t anticipated sharing even that piece of information, your family history was far too close to your less than common genetic misfortune to ever be talked about. 

“...What?”

Your eyes teared up. You were going to tell him, and you were also going to cry. “I have to tell you something.” You felt the quiver of your lips, heard the shake of your voice as it circled the air. What the fuck were you thinking? 

“My father - um…lied to the public about his testing. He promised everyone that he would stop at mice, but he didn't plan on actually doing that.” You shook your head in tune with your words, speaking slowly as you thought of how to drop this bomb and cause the least amount of damage. “He kidnapped a woman, my mother. At that point he’d figured out a way to implement the DNA strand he was using on rodents into human sperm, and he managed to get her pregnant with it.”

His face went slack, an emotion reaching far beyond shock, beyond disbelief. “You mean…?”

“It’s not vampirism in the cinematic sense, Aaron. We don’t burn in the sun or have heightened senses or speed. It’s just a cruel mutation. Human blood is the only substance our body can process.”

“You - you keep saying ‘we’.” He was frantic, you didn’t blame him. “Are there more?”

“Just the unsub.” The look in your eyes was begging for acceptance, for empathy and tenderness. You hadn’t even expected him to believe you, but now you feared the possibility of him running for the hills and spilling your secret to anyone he came across. “He’s the only one I know of. I didn’t expect my father to do it again.”

“Jesus Christ.” You concealed a laugh at how expressive the confession was making him. You knew it was the worst possible time, but you’d never seen him so human. “Is this - I mean how do you live, Y/n? Are you killing people?” You understood the accusation, but that didn’t dilute the sting of it as it hit your ears.

“No, Aaron. God, no.” You rushed out a denial before he could think too hard on it. “It took me years to figure out the bare minimum I could live on, ok? It’s two full syringes a week, nobody ever dies. Ever.” He seemed out of it, you didn’t know how to gauge whether this was a good or bad reaction. You’d never told anybody. How did you even proceed in a situation like this? “Look, I know, ok? This is fucking crazy, but you can’t tell the team.” He widened his eyes at you slightly like the thought of not telling them was wilder than anything you just told him. 

“You can’t seriously expect-”

“Aaron.” You were on the brink of losing your breath. “I’m not a threat. I’ve worked here for years. I’ve lived with this my entire life and I have control. We need to focus on finding the boy and that won’t happen if they know.”

“Boy?” He furrowed his eyebrows deeper than you’ve ever seen. “He’s- It’s a kid?”

You thought back to the encounter. You could cup him in your palms. “He has to be. He’s tiny, fourteen or fifteen I’d say.” You nearly broke as you thought of the child he’d never get to be. 

“There’s no protocol for this, Y/n.” This was one of the first times you’d seen him speak with his hands. “I don’t even know how to approach it anymore. It’s hard enough dealing with a child unsub when they’re human. How do you suggest we deal with a vampire?”

“Hotch.” Your eyes held disappointment. He was coping with the situation, and you knew that, but his words still didn’t sit right with you. “He is human. A very scared and lost human boy. My dad overfed me as a kid, wanting to disable the signal that tells you when it’s enough. It’s why he’s killing so many, he must have recently broken out. You get…I don’t know, insatiable. You start and don’t know when to stop, it's just blind instinct. He doesn’t want to be hurting people.”

“You speak from experience.” You didn’t want to tell him he was missing the point, but there certainly wasn’t a mutual focus between the two of you.

“Nobody’s perfect, Aaron.” You spoke with tears lining your eyes, your past was the most shameful thing you carried with you. “I need to find him. I can help him.”

He sighed, baffled and exhausted at the entire situation. He nodded soon after. “I won’t tell them.” You felt the increase in oxygen as you practically gasped in relief.

You stood up, stopping with your hand on the doorknob. Were you running? Yes, most definitely. But he wasn’t speaking and you couldn’t imagine he wanted to stay in your company. “I promise I’m not a monster.” You didn’t quite know if you were trying to convince him of this, or if you were hoping to affirm what he was already thinking, but it was the only thing you could think to say. 

He just stared at you, eyes vacant but clearly attempting to imitate the warmth that would normally reside there. “Goodnight, Y/n.” It was such a familiar phrase that it nearly made you puke from the comfort flooding your body. You scoffed at the casual nature of the remark in the face of such an unusual time, but were still unfathomably thankful for it. 

“Goodnight, Aaron.”

–

Three days later, and you were really feeling the distance. He stopped the routine of checking in - he stopped speaking almost entirely. He spoke of you, giving you orders or assigning your assistance to others but never talking directly to you. He used to pull you aside sometimes just to ask about your day, now he wouldn’t even look at you. The bodies had only been piling, patrol increasing night by night all hell bent on catching the so-called ‘virginia vampire.’ The absolute last thing you needed was a media wave of infamy to drown the boy, but there was no stopping the press once they were off and running. You doubted it made a difference, internet access was fully forbidden within the iron fist that was life with your father. You were hopeful some type of DNA could be pulled from the bodies, as the clean up was nonexistent and some of the necks had still been wet upon police arrival, but you got nothing. Or rather, nothing within the system. Garcia had compared the results of the sample to every database in the country - sometimes branching beyond that - but nothing proved useful. It was foolish to be disappointed, obviously your father wouldn’t have registered the baby of his hostage with the required legal standards. You hadn’t even known what you wanted to find, but the presence of absolutely nothing was crushing.

With the new surveillance demands your local PD wanted to meet, the BAU ended up pitching in to night monitor with them. It wasn’t difficult by any means - just tedious. You sat in turned off cop cars for most hours of the night while trying to ignore the persistent burn of hunger that was lighting up your stomach. You knew it’d been too long since you went out, but you were out of luck. People weren’t on the street hardly at all, and even if there was a small population to prey on, the cops breathing down your neck made it nearly impossible. You’d been paired up with Morgan for the last two nights you’d done this, time moving faster with him there to entertain you. Needless to say, sitting in the dead silence of the Quantico pm with Hotch was not what you were anticipating when you came for your shift tonight. You were only two feet away from him, but you could almost gaze into the sinkhole that sat between you two. Cold and dark, brutally reminding you that you’d volunteered for this abyss when you spilled your guts. You stopped yourself from shifting in your seat as another contraction of hunger pulled at your abdominal muscles. You knew that if someone were looking, they’d be able to notice the decline in your recent performance. You were slower, more zoned out, antsy, irritable. You were good at suppressing those things, confident in your ability to conceal them, but you had a feeling the man beside you could tell. He’d been looking at you all night, analytical and lukewarm, letting the start of a conversation sit just on the tip of his tongue. The silence, though, was taking it’s toll on you. It seemed to morph into a ringing that bounced between your ears like it was determined to slip into your skull and bury itself there. You realized you would take the most awkward conversation over a night of partnered solitude. 

You wrestled with what to say, deciding to stick with your streak of brutal honesty. “Will you ever wanna talk to me again?”

He sniffed, continuing to stare forward like he was expecting the question. “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/n.” You didn’t know either. 

You took a moment to mentally gawk at his words, tripping over them in your attempt to process the answer and decide how to respond appropriately. “Anger?” You felt yourself ramp up slightly, your hands moving as you spoke. “Resentment? Sadness? I mean… you’ve just been cold and I can’t work with that, Aaron.” You looked at him, mouth slightly open as you laid your helplessness out for him to see. “I need something.”

“I just-” He shrugged, shaking his head while figuring out the words he needed to say. “You can’t expect me to adjust to that information in three days. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.” It was deeper than that. You both held a sort of mutual understanding that these lumps weren’t as surface level as confusion. The woman he’d been infatuated with for years had confessed she lived on the blood of her fellow man, how the hell do you act after learning that?

You tried your hardest to be empathetic towards his situation. You’d lived with this arrangement your entire life, so it was hard to put yourself in the shoes of shattered expectation, but you tried. It hurt to hear him refer to you like you were a different entity all of a sudden - but to him, you were. “So ask me. Ask me any question you can think of. If you want to know something, I’ll tell you. I just can’t stand the silence, Aaron.” You put your hand to your forehead as you relaxed into your seat. “I miss you. I’m the same person I was a week ago.” 

You heard him sigh and shift to be leaning forward slightly. “Do you have a…” He trailed off for a second, searching for the way to put it that would ensure you understood his question. “You know, a bloodlust? Do you feel what the kid is feeling?”

The air solidified in your lungs. Yes, you absolutely fucking did. However, you weren’t going to sit there and profess your never ending homicidal urges to a man who was already struggling to accept your bare minimum. You weren’t going to scare the man you cared for more than you already had. “Um…you could call it that, I guess. I do know what he’s feeling right now, but I don’t live in his mindset anymore. It gets less the more you live with it.” You weren’t lying, per say. It truly did get easier to manage, you were simply omitting the follow up of still being a bottomless pit for the substance. Just because you weren’t enslaved to it anymore didn’t mean the constant possibility wasn’t a part of your very being. 

He looked over at you, and in the dim glow of the street light his eyes seemed fuller, pupils rivaling puddles of tar. “What does it feel like?”

Your lips parted to let out your breath as it elevated slightly. The car seemed to humidify in the moments between his last question and now. Was he actually asking that? “It feels like…this-” Jesus Chist how did you even put words to it? “this constant…pulsing…in your gums.” You thought back to the haze it used to cast over your mind. You could barely think clearly when you first got out, focused on stealing the life force from beneath the skin of others. “Your whole body just fucking aches for it.” The eye contact between you and him was searing past your eyes and sinking into your soul itself. It was different than any way you’d looked at him before, so full of remorse and pure want that you’re surprised he didn’t laugh at your patheticism.

You caught quick movement draped in a shadow from your peripheral and were knocked back into your actual purpose. You and him both exited the car, creeping up to the spot previously occupied by the figure. You didn’t see him, simply felt the force of him pelt past you and crash into your shoulder. You, to your surprise, held your footing and were running after him a second later. Hotch was just behind you, both of you sprinting desperately to catch the boy. But, just like the last time you’d walked this path, the nimbleness of his smaller frame won almost effortlessly against the two of you, and you lost him. This time, you’d lost yourself right after. You felt the nonexistent padding of concrete on the sidewalk bruise your body before you even registered you’d fallen over. The world wasn’t fading, you were very awake and very aware of the pain spreading to your entire right side. You determined - rather quickly - that your legs had just given out from lack of proper energy. The embarrassment of doing this in front of Hotch severely trumped the pain of hitting the ground. 

“Jesus.” You heard the concerned mumble come from him as he crouched down to your level. “Are you ok?”

You said you were fine, but oxygen seemed to adopt the weight of a semi-truck and it got harder to accept the necessity into your body. You simply told him to stand up, following his lead and rising from your position with difficulty you hadn’t faced before. Your legs failed you for the second time, though, and you fell back onto your knees with a small sob of exertion being expelled from your chest. He crouched back down, stabilizing himself on his knees and letting you lean against him when you couldn’t hold yourself up.

“Y/n.” The shame of your current situation kept your eyes from his, only looking at him when he forced you to. “When was the last time you ate?”

You just shook your head, weakly trying to free yourself from his hands but failing. “Patrol’s been so high I just couldn’t - “ You sniffed slightly, gasping lightly as breathing became harder to do than the chase you just gave. “I couldn’t get out.” 

He muttered ‘ok’ under his breath a few times, seemingly coming to terms with something, looking around in all directions before rolling up his shirt sleeve. The implication of the action registered instantly and you began squirming away from him. Mumbling words of disagreement that you knew he could hear.

“I can’t, Aaron. I can’t drink straight from the source - I can’t stop.” You felt your lips tremble as you recalled the feeling of impending doom clashing messily against the rush of excitement that coursed through you at the possibility. You hadn’t known that specific cocktail in years, you thought you’d go the rest of your life without feeling it again. “I can’t - please.”

“Well -” He started, pulling up his pant leg in search of the small switchblade he started carrying after being disarmed one too many times. “If we don’t do this, you’ll lose consciousness. That means they’ll take you to the hospital on an IV and you’ll have to explain why none of the nutrients are helping you.” You were so fucked. He was right, a rock and a hard place didn’t even break the surface of your situation. This was hell.

Your vision went blurry as the water in them doubled in quantity. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t.” Bastard. 

“Aaron-”

“You’re practically catatonic, Y/n.” He let energy surge through the response, saying it more as an exclamation than a statement. “I’m not watching you die and I’m not letting you out yourself to some random workers because you’re scared. You need blood.” He positioned the knife away from any major arteries and dug deep, exhaling slightly at the sting. Softening his voice, he looked to you again, and moved his wounded wrist slightly closer to you.“Just let me help you.” You watched it run off his wrist and swore you felt the impact of the drops as they fell like a phantom pressure lighting up your skin. He was breathing heavy, you didn’t know if you were breathing at all; only being able to gauge the depth of your existence by how badly you needed what he was offering. You hadn’t felt yourself accept the invitation, only tasted the poison of it all once it bypassed your lips. You wondered if this was how Eve had felt when she succumbed to the serpent. If so, you didn’t blame her. You would have condemned all of humanity for this feeling too. It hadn’t ever felt this personal, this euphoric. You fed on strangers, never on someone who held as much importance as him. This trampled the idea of simply knowing him, this was a bond you could never backstep. It was done, and it was terrifying. The warmth he always seemed to emanate infested in you from the inside-out, beaming through your entire body and fending off any destruction being done by the famished vines winding around you. He held you against him as it happened, safe and welcoming, and it made a heat line your stomach with such intensity that it teased the idea of burning right through you.

He wallowed in the feeling for a few minutes, only stopping the exchange when he felt his head become too heavy for his neck to hold. “Enough, enough.” His way of tapping out, the words making you detach immediately with a slight gasp that prompted your panting breath. You realized he was panting too, eyes slightly wide and skull resting uncomfortably against the brick wall that sat behind him as he recovered. You assumed your face was painted with the horror that was flooding your system, but he couldn’t see the extent of the expression in the darkness surrounding you. “Does it always-” He was cut off by the approaching vehicles of your team and other officers. It was time for a shift change, and you felt a small sob intertwine with your exhaling breath and extend to the air around you. With your newly acquired strength, you got up and limped to the closest cop car. You forced away the urge to cry as you asked the officer to take you home, claiming an urgent need to check on your pets. Just add lying to an officer to your list of sins committed in the last 24 hours. You watched your team congregate around the still bleeding Hotch and bit your tongue. His actions had been so instinctual, so automatic in the way he rose to the occasion. He’d given you something nobody ever had, and you weren’t sure you would ever be looking at him again. 

–

In the week that had dragged by since then, bodies were being found significantly less than they were. You’d successfully halted all interaction between your boss and you - which is much easier said than done - and had essentially treated him as though he didn’t exist. It hurt him - visibly - and you despised being the one to instill such a wounded haze to his eyes, but you couldn’t help it. No amount of oral hygiene procedures could singe the taste of him off your tongue. If you let the thoughts linger in your mind too long, you could almost feel the flow of his blood cascading down your throat. It threw you so effortlessly back to your freshly escaped fledgling days that it fucking horrified you how badly you wanted it. You really should have assumed that consuming the blood of someone you treasured would dramatically increase the craving. You weren’t prepared, not even slightly, and that would certainly manifest into some less than work appropriate advances should you acknowledge your boss again. 

The lack of frequent bodies unfortunately didn’t reduce the amount of cops on the street, but you’d managed to slip back into your routine. It was about ten times harder than it used to be to both evade officers and find people outside but you were fed, and that was all you chose to focus on. You had left tonight’s guy under a park platform a couple blocks over, having to resort to unconventional means when hiding them post-theft. You hadn’t stopped your search for the boy, having been out every night since it started. Sometimes on the clock, sometimes off - always trying to think outside of the box. Clearly, that all proved futile, as there was a boy sitting on your front steps practically consumed by the surrounding shadows when you arrived home. You simply continued your trek, stopping maybe five feet away and giving him the space to control the situation. He looked up at you, pulling down his hood and standing to his full height. He was practically gleaming in the dim porch light, his skin seemed to reflect the moon in a way only rivaled by the finest china. 

“What did you mean?” He was as timid as a mouse, looking at the ground as he spoke. “You saw me that night in the alley and you said you knew what was happening. What did you mean?”

You couldn’t say you were surprised your father didn’t inform him of your existence. Knowing the man, he would most likely deny your relation if questioned directly. “I’m like you, buddy.” You slowly let the bag on your back swing forward to a place of accessibility, grabbing the vial of the inky substance and flashing it slightly before returning it to your bag. “I’d offer you some, but I can’t imagine you’re needing it.” You swung it back to rest behind you again, settling the straps comfortably on your shoulders.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused but apprehensive, as though the motion might upset you. “You live on that?”

You chuckled at his innocence, barely being able to comprehend the pure dichotomy you were talking to. You understood it fully, but such a sweet boy holding such intense homicidal capabilities was an absurd notion. “Took me a while.” You nodded as you confirmed his question. “But yeah, about two of these a week.”

Disbelief quickly befriended the features on his face. “You aren’t…hungry?”

You looked at the boy with undiluted sympathy, you knew the feeling he hinted at well. If you were him right now, you’d have probably lashed out in a jealous rage at such an ability to control consumption. You hadn’t believed it was a livable amount until you’d contained yourself within it’s limits. “A little, I won’t lie to you. But it’s well worth it to avoid killing someone. You get used to it after a while.” He simply looked down, and you realized you might have made him slightly guilty with your wording. In an eager attempt to pivot the conversation, you told him your name, hoping to get a proper introduction from him.  

“I’m Daniel.” You crouched down after he said that, wanting to open him up a little more by shrinking below his height. “You know my dad?”

You smiled at the ignorance, it wasn’t often somebody didn’t know exactly who resided on your family tree. “I do. He’s actually my dad too.” You preyed with everything in you that you were coming off as comforting, docile. You wanted him to trust you. “How old are you, Daniel?”

“Twelve.” Jesus Christ. 

You tried not to let the shock ricochet along your face. You wouldn’t earn his alliance by being wobbly, you needed to be a dependent structure for him to lean on. “You’ve got me beat, kid.” He tilted his head, the meaning of your statement lost on him. “I was seventeen when I got away. Quite an impressive thing for someone your age.” Praise, you hoped, would solidify you as a place he could receive affection. He definitely wasn’t getting it from your father. 

His eyes went wide, lips parted as you saw his head lean forward in response. “You escaped?” His breathing sped up, microscopic, something you wouldn’t have noticed had you worked in a different profession. “How?”

You felt the bottom of your stomach rip and release every ounce of hope you ever carried. Something wasn’t right. “How?” You questioned him rhetorically, mentally pleading that he wasn’t about to confirm your suspicion. “Are you still with him?”

He nodded his head with such casualty it broke your heart. You knew it was all he’d ever known, but seeing him have such peace with his predicament was a sight made of pure devastation. “Yeah.” He sighed out the response. “He says there’s no use in running away. That if I decide to just stay out one night, he knows how to find me.” You notice his averted eyes, a sudden embarrassment becoming evident in his stance. “I’ve…kinda been too scared to see if that’s true or not.”

“Why don’t you come in?” It took all the effort you had to suppress the desperation begging to penetrate the look you were giving him. “I can protect you, Daniel. He’s not as tough as he pretends to be.” In all honesty, you didn’t know if that was true. He’d never sent you out on hunts when you were younger. He gave you any indulgence you wanted, absolutely trampling your hunger cues and making you a nightmare on anyone with a pulse once you finally broke out. You figured it was a fail safe for if you were ever on your own. He couldn’t have you, but you would start piling bodies and would eventually be put down when they traced it back to you. You didn’t understand his game plan here. Why did he suddenly want a high body count? Had he been starving Daniel out just to set him loose like some feral bull? 

He frantically shook his head, stepping away from you slightly and waving you off. “No, I need to go back.” He started tearing up, remembering the true reason he’d stepped foot on your lawn at all. “I need you to help me, Y/n.” He swiped at his nose as he bit back the tears. “You have to get rid of him.”

You felt your own eyes go watery at the ask. “I’m gonna get you out of there.”

He chuckled, light and short, puzzling you for a moment at what he could be finding humor in. “It’s not even about me.” He looked down. “I just wanna stop hurting people.” 

You covered the tremble in your lips in a pathetic attempt to mask the sadness that poured from you at his declaration. “I’m so sorry.”

He returned his head to the safety of his hood, refusing your apology with a shake of it. “It was nice meeting you.”

You stared at him, every instinct you had sparking with the urge to shield him. Absorb him into the atoms that made you up and let live through your screen of security. But you couldn’t, so you just sniffed, reigning in any emotion that slipped from your grasp during the conversation and sealing it back inside. “I’ll see you soon.” And then he was walking away, turning slightly to offer a wave before resuming his role as part of the abyss around you. Only one thought remained in your head - You were gonna kill your dad.

[bedtimescenarios]

Periculum in mora- Part 1?

CW: implied threats, mentions of past abuse, mentions of violence, implied stalking, living weapon whump

Emory clutches the piece of paper so tightly they aren't sure it's still suitable for the evidence bag. If it weren't for the gloves on their hands, they're certain it would disintegrate under their sweat. Their gaze continues scanning the handwriting, which is too neat to be arranged into a sentence so awfully terrifying that they kind of wish they skipped first grade reading lessons. The words seem to pulse on the page, and their breath hitches as a twig cracks nearby.

"You okay?" Lauryn's voice sounds from behind them, and their head whips around to face her.

Emory swallows. When they got this job, they were nothing short of ecstatic- a well-recognized, highly respected detective role at the PD was everything they'd been working for. And they certainly hadn't expected to get it, not with their past, not after the trial. But when they received the acceptance e-mail, they knew they had a shot at catching him. At finally putting that bastard behind bars and reversing the roles after all that time. Still, they expected it to happen on their own terms. Not like this.

For a moment, Emory stares at the body sprawled out on the ground, eyes fixed on the jean pocket where they found the note, surprisingly clean compared to the crimson staining the rest of the scene. To say these recent murders have been brutal would be an understatement. They were carried out with the raw violence of a rabid lion, yet at the same time with incredible surgical precision to ensure prolonged unbearable pain. When Emory was assigned the case, they instantly shut down the possibility of their tormentor being behind them, despite a lingering feeling in the back of their mind that transposed into their nightmares. Now, as they hold that damned piece of paper, that feeling is winning.

Emory's icy eyes meet Lauryn's warm ones, and they step around the pale body and towards their colleague. They don't speak as they hand her the paper, and watch as her eyebrows furrow in confusion- of course she wouldn't know its significance. Why would she? This is so much deeper than its spelling, than its meaning.

Lauryn looks up, and Emory can distinguish a hint of worry on her face. It's something they see quite often- Lauryn is an exceptional detective, perhaps the best they know, but she can get overly involved in cases, not to mention ones so closely tied to her co-workers. Her empathy felt surreal during Emory's first few weeks at the department, especially after what they'd been taught for so long. She showed them what caring truly meant.

"Periculum in mora." Lauryn recites the contents slowly, as if testing the way they roll off her tongue, and Emory's jaw clenches. "Latin. I'll look up the meaning-"

She doesn't have time to reach for her phone because Emory's mouth outpaces them. "Danger in delay."

Lauryn's head tilts to the left, and Emory knows she's waiting for an explanation. A moment passes before they're sure they've composed themselves enough to speak. "He used to say it to me after I tried to run."

Their mind automatically completes the statement with the sound of the whip cracking against their back, their strangled cries contrasting his laugh. They don't share that with Lauryn.

Either way, the woman's frown deepens, small creases forming between her eyebrows. She's trying hard not to show pity, they can tell- they've told her that it's pointless countless times- but Emory can see it flash across her expression. With another look at the note, her nose flares slightly, and she takes in a deep breath.

"Do you think Hayes has something to do with this?" Her words seem calculated, almost as if she's scared of screwing up.

Emory hates it. They also hate how the name alone sends a shiver down their spine. Aden Hayes. Infamous leader of the hitmen network registered in police records as responsible for more than 296 kills. A quarter of which were reported by Emory after they ripped that chip out of their skin and ran until the soles of their feet were nearly detached and half of their wounds re-opened. That man, he's still out there- Emory has known that for a while, since the investigation's leads suddenly started dropping like flies- and now he knows where Emory works.

Emory instinctively runs a finger over the ragged scar on their palm, almost absentmindedly. They try not to recall the memory associated with it. "This is him."

Despite their unfocused gaze, they notice their colleague's body stiffening. "This might just be a coincidence, you know."

They wish that was true. Hell, they wish they could at least believe it, embrace the sweet bliss that is ignorance. They wish their mind didn't flash with images of blood and death and loss and so, so much pain. But that note... it's a taunt, and they know exactly what it means.

"It's him. And he's coming after me."

Taglist: @sarahsbookshop

[kuschelkissen]

Pspspsps Mi

For the ask game, Nagano Trio if it pleases thee

5, 7 (any or all of the trio), 11, 12, 15, 17, 22

As many or as little as you wish :)

Pspsps ᓚᘏᗢ

5 and 7 are answered here

11) What's your favourite piece of fanart for [ship]?

Still unsure if this ask is meant for my own stuff or others, since another question specifically mentions "out of YOUR fanworks", so...

I'll go with OTHERS again and link this artist, because they're someone who actually tends to depict them as a throuple and I love that ♥ They also drew the chibi version of Yui carrying Koumei out of that burning building bridal style, and I'll forever love them for it

12) What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

Like I said in another of these, I don't really come up with a lot of crazy AU ideas, but something I thought was fun was the Body Swap AU? It's more between Kansuke and Koumei, but I guess Yui caught on pretty early that SOMETHING was wrong with her boys!

15) Have you noticed your style change over time?

idk if I noticed much in the recent years, except maybe getting a bit better at colouring? can't really say a lot about the Trio, as I have only drawn them for a few years... first vs last:

dunno, if there is a lot of change in style, but it's a bit hard for me to recognise style for myself either way.

Jump scare with old art to show you my improvement!

(Full Version here)

17) What's a book, movie, or show you think [character] would like?

This stems mostly from the Actors AU, but I can see Yui watching some of these shows where people get a new style, or stuff like Shopping Queen. Both Kansuke and Koumei will judge her for it, but Koumei will actually watch along with her, sometimes.

Yui also makes both of them watch those love comedies with her. Kansuke will complain a lot, but in the end he's the one invested, yelling at the MC to treat the love interest better (you're one to talk, Mister!) and they all collectively roll their eyes at stupid love triangle tropes.

(probably all wildly OOC, but do I look like I care, no, I don't)

22) Give us a headcanon for [character]

A Koumei HC can be found here

A Kansuke HC I have is that he's one of these people that always have warm hands, barely gets cold. He doesn't like the heat for that reason, but he also doesn't really like the cold either, especially after the avalanche.

A Yui HC I have is that she's pitied by half of the Nagano PD for having to deal with Yamato and Morofushi so often. They look at these two men - one with anger issues, the other one talking in riddles, both of them clashing with each other all the time, and poor Uehara is stuck in the middle, trying to get them both to behave, while also staying in her lane, not overstepping towards her superiours. But in reality, she knows pretty well how to handle them. In fact, she knows how to make their lives hell if she wants to. She knows how to push them into submission, how to get them to do exactly what she wants. But she's a good girl, so she doesn't abuse that power, unless they get on her nerves too much 😌