#chief's i told you not to shout at me and THAT was shouting

[ageless-aislynn]

Okay, so Eleven Labs AI voices are SCARY ACCURATE, so that, along with using the music and background sounds and dialogue, make this sound like a real and really demented version of The Pillar of Autumn in Halo: CE.

These AI voices have so much emotion and delivery to the lines. Like at 2:20, listen to how Cortana’s “What is it? Sure, whatever” tone is perfectly I have given up in dealing with this overgrown manchild right now. Just... equal parts scary and amazing, IMO.

The real world implications on how well both audio and video can be deepfaked is a discussion for a whole other time. 😳😬 But for now, please enjoy this authentic-sounding AU episode of “Chief Needs His Airpods.” 👀😉

[fans4wga]

"The studios thought they could handle a strike. They might end up sparking a revolution"

by Mary McNamara

"If you want to start a revolution, tell your workers you’d rather see them lose their homes than offer them fair wages. Then lecture them about how their “unrealistic” demands are “disruptive” to the industry, not to mention disturbing your revels at Versailles, er, Sun Valley.

Honestly, watching the studios turn one strike into two makes you wonder whether any of their executives have ever seen a movie or watched a television show. Scenes of rich overlords sipping Champagne and acting irritated while the crowd howls for bread rarely end well for the Champagne sippers.

This spring, it sometimes seemed like the Hollywood studios represented by the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers were actively itching for a writers’ strike. Speculations about why, exactly, ran the gamut: Perhaps it would save a little money in the short run and show the Writers Guild of America (perceived as cocky after its recent ability to force agents out of the packaging business) who’s boss.

More obviously, it might secure the least costly compromise on issues like residuals payments and transparency about viewership.

But the 20,000 members of the WGA are not the only people who, having had their lives and livelihoods upended by the streaming model, want fair pay and assurances about the use of artificial intelligence, among other sticking points. The 160,000 members of the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists share many of the writers’ concerns. And recent unforced errors by studio executives, named and anonymous, have suddenly transformed a fight the studios were spoiling for into a public relations war they cannot win.

Even as SAG-AFTRA representatives were seeing a majority of their demands rejected despite a nearly unanimous strike vote, a Deadline story quoted unnamed executives detailing a strategy to bleed striking writers until they come crawling back.

Days later, when an actors’ strike seemed imminent, Disney Chief Executive Bob Iger took time away from the Sun Valley Conference in Idaho not to offer compromise but to lecture. He told CNBC’s David Faber that the unions’ refusal to help out the studios by taking a lesser deal is “very disturbing to me.”

“There’s a level of expectation that they have that is just not realistic,” Iger said. “And they are adding to the set of the challenges that this business is already facing that is, quite frankly, very disruptive.”

If Iger thought his attempt to exec-splain the situation would make actors think twice about walking out, he was very much mistaken. Instead, he handed SAG-AFTRA President Fran Drescher the perfect opportunity for the kind of speech usually shouted atop the barricades.

“We are the victims here,” she said Thursday, marking the start of the actors’ strike. “We are being victimized by a very greedy entity. I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with are treating us. I cannot believe it, quite frankly: How far apart we are on so many things. How they plead poverty, that they’re losing money left and right, when giving hundreds of millions of dollars to their CEOs. It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment.”

Cue the cascading strings of “Les Mis,” bolstered by images of the most famous people on the planet walking out in solidarity: the cast of “Oppenheimer” leaving the film’s London premiere; the writers and cast of “The X-Files” reuniting on the picket line.

A few days later, Barry Diller, chairman and senior executive of IAC and Expedia Group and a former Hollywood studio chief, suggested that studio executives and top-earning actors take a 25% pay cut to bring a quick end to the strikes and help prevent “the collapse of the entire industry.”

When Diller is telling executives to take a pay cut to avoid destroying their industry, it is no longer a strike, or even two strikes. It is a last-ditch attempt to prevent le déluge.

Yes, during the 2007-08 writers’ strike, picketers yelled noncomplimentary things at executives as they entered their respective lots. (“What you earnin’, Chernin?” was popular at Fox, where Peter Chernin was chairman and chief executive.) But that was before social media made everything more immediate, incendiary and personal. (Even if they have never seen a movie or TV show, one would think that people heading up media companies would understand how media actually work.)

Even at the most heated moments of the last writers’ strike, executives like Chernin and Iger were seen as people who could be reasoned with — in part because most of the executives were running studios, not conglomerations, but mostly because the pay gap between executives and workers, in Hollywood and across the country, had not yet widened to the reprehensible chasm it has since.

Now, the massive eight- and nine-figure salaries of studio heads alongside photos of pitiably small residual checks are paraded across legacy and social media like historical illustrations of monarchs growing fat as their people starve. Proof that, no matter how loudly the studios claim otherwise, there is plenty of money to go around.

Topping that list is Warner Bros. Discovery Chief Executive Davd Zaslav. Having re-named HBO Max just Max and made cuts to the beloved Turner Classic Movies, among other unpopular moves, Zaslav has become a symbol of the cold-hearted, highly compensated executive that the writers and actors are railing against.

The ferocious criticism of individual executives’ salaries has placed Hollywood’s labor conflict at the center of the conversation about growing wealth disparities in the U.S., which stokes, if not causes, much of this country’s political divisions. It also strengthens the solidarity among the WGA and SAG-AFTRA and with other groups, from hotel workers to UPS employees, in the midst of disputes during what’s been called a “hot labor summer.”

Unfortunately, the heightened antagonism between studio executives and union members also appears to leave little room for the kind of one-on-one negotiation that helped end the 2007-08 writers’ strike. Iger’s provocative statement, and the backlash it provoked, would seem to eliminate him as a potential elder statesman who could work with both sides to help broker a deal.

Absent Diller and his “cut your damn salaries” plan, there are few Hollywood figures with the kind of experience, reputation and relationships to fill the vacuum.

At this point, the only real solution has been offered by actor Mark Ruffalo, who recently suggested that workers seize the means of production by getting back into the indie business, which is difficult to imagine and not much help for those working in television.

It’s the AMPTP that needs to heed Iger’s admonishment. At a time when the entertainment industry is going through so much disruption, two strikes is the last thing anyone needs, especially when the solution is so simple. If the studios don’t want a full-blown revolution on their hands, they’d be smart to give members of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA contracts they can live with."

[hotchscvm]

three cents

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: talks of big dick energy, prostitution if you squint, red wine, gray sweatpants (mentioned)

Girls' night out was wild, no one knew where you would end up. One night, you ended up on a boat and the next you were on a train to NYC. After getting thrown in jail with Emily, JJ, and Penelope during another night out, you all vowed to keep whatever happened during the night a secret from everyone, specifically Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan who had bailed all four of you out of jail, Derek Morgan who teased you relentlessly for weeks after.

After a long case, Emily suggested another girl’s night which all of you agreed on, desperately needing a celebratory drink after saving a little girl. It was around one in the morning when you got back to Quantico and though Aaron gave you the day off for tomorrow–or well, later today–all four of you decided to crash at Emily’s and drink to your heart’s content.

Popcorn and Hersey kisses lay on Emily’s coffee table, bottles of half-empty wine and jello shots litter the floor and you’re all giggling about whether to prank Derek by getting phone cases with a picture of him shirtless. You’re all on board and Penelope is getting them custom-made through a website she’s found.

“Speaking of Derek’s abs.” JJ drags the ‘s’ creating a hissing noise. She turns to you, grinning. “I’ve wanted to ask ever since you went to that Doctor Who convention with him. Do you like like Spence?”

You giggled, taking a small sip of wine, thinking about the genius. “Noooo. Spence is my friend. And he runs with his gun like it’s weighing him down. Besides, I only went to that Doctor Who convention because he went to see Barbie with me. He’s, like, too young for me, too.”

“He’s older than you.” Emily points out, smirking, knowing full well you liked older men. “He’s adorable and sweet.”

“Spencer is definitely cute and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a sex dream about him,” you confessed, smiling as the girls burst out laughing. “But he’s too … inexperienced. I like my men like I like my wine. Old.”

Your phone had been on mute since you entered the plane, not wanting to abruptly wake anyone up if they were resting, so not a single person in the room had heard your phone ringing or Aaron’s multiple “hello’s” trying to get your attention. All of you were oblivious to your boss listening in to the conversation.

“Is Rossi too old for you?” Penelope asked, inciting another round of giggles.

You nodded, finishing off your glass of wine. “Just a bit. I’ve seen pictures of him when he was in the Marines though, and I definitely would’ve been the fourth Mrs. Rossi back then.”

Emily cackled, a bit of red wine spilling from her full glass. “Okay, I have a question. Would you guys fuck Hotch for ten million dollars? Be honest here.”

“No!” both JJ and Penelope spit out. They all turned to you, grinning like madmen.

You shrugged, filling another glass. “I’d do it for three.”

“Damn, three million? That’s–“

“Nope,” you smirked, taking a sip.

Emily paused, head tilting in confusion. “Three … hundred thousand?”

“No.”

“Three thousand?”

You shake your head, grinning at the confused woman. “Nope.”

“Three hundred?”

“No.”

Emily’s eyes widened, jaw-dropping a little further as you denied her guesses. “Three dollars?”

“No.”

“THREE CENTS?” JJ was the one to shout, mouth dropping open when you giggled and nodded.

Penelope threw a pillow at you, and you giggled, dodging it, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “Hey! This is supposed to be a judge-free zone. I’d suck and fuck Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner for three measly cents.”

“Okay, I’d understand if you said Derek but Hotch?” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head at the thought. “He’s like twenty years older than you!”

“Exactly! That’s part of the appeal,” you replied. You were sure by tomorrow no one would remember your confession–though you were positive you wouldn’t either–and that they wouldn’t tease you too much over it. “He’s the literal definition of a DILF.”

The girls laughed at your words, JJ having to clutch onto a pillow to control herself.

“And!” you continue. “I was working out with Derek once and Hotch came in the gym with gray sweats and his dick looks humongous. It was a huge fucking bulge. I think I saw it twitching.”

Penelope slaps her hands over her ears, playfully grimacing at your words while Emily chugs the remains of her glass, absolutely baffled. You didn’t mind, sex and boys were common conversation topics during girl’s night (and sometimes when Emily would catch you making eyes at someone.

The rest of the night continued the same, though less talk about Hotch’s big dick and more on whether you all should make more jello shots. By the time you’re coming up with an answer, it’s five in the morning and all four of you are knocked out from the alcohol in your system. Even in your drunk state, you knew you’d wake up to a pounding headache.

When Derek calls in the morning, telling everyone about a new case, you’re all moody and grumpy. Hotch wanted everyone in even though he had given the day off, so no one was jumping for joy especially not in your hangover state.

Despite drinking the most, Emily drives the four of you back to the BAU, mumbling obscenities under her breath on the way. When you enter the elevator, Derek is there, causing all of you to groan at his presence. One look at you and he laughs loudly, knowing what had transpired the night before.

You wish you could shoot his foot.

In the briefing room, Hotch apologizes for having you all come in on your day off, pausing to glance at you before presenting the case. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid that much attention to it, your headache taking up your attention. Fire, serial arsonist, fifteen dead, Seattle.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch announces, walking across the table. As the team filters out of the room, he calls your name. “In my office, please. I want to discuss something with you.”

Confused, you follow him to his office, pushing through your headache to think about what he could possibly want to speak to you about. You come up blank, even more confused when you see him lock the door to his office as you enter. “Did I do something wrong?”

Hotch shook his head, moving past you to his desk. He picks up something and turns around. In his hands are three pennies, and he’s holding them out to you. “Three cents.”

You’re getting deja vu on the words, and it’s not until several seconds of standing in silence and confusion that it clicks. Three cents. You blush, looking at the pennies. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you’d suck and fuck me for three cents,” he smirks at your shock, placing the coins in your hands.

“What–”

Hotch unbuckles his belt, causing you to stop mid-sentence. “You’ve got twenty-eight minutes to suck my cock. Get to work.”

[pathologicalreid]

next of kin | S.R.

disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.

“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.

You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”

The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.

Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.

Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.

Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.

Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”

Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.

Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.

You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”

He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.

The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.

The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.

It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.

By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.

“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.

None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.

All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.

Maya. Maya. Maya.

Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.

You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.

Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.

Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.

The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.

Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.

You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.

They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.

By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”

In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.

Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.

“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.

Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.

That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”

You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.

“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”

“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”

Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”

Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.

Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”

In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.

You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.

At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”

Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.

“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.

The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.  

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.

Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.

“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.

Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”

The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.

“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.

He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.

He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.

Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”

Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.

This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.

Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.

You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”

“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.

Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.

You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”

Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”

It was the smell.

The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.

Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.

“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.

You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”

Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.

“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.

Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”

Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”

Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”

Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”

You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.

Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.

Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.

You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”

“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.

Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.

You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.

“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.

She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.

Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.

“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.

There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.

The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.

“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.

You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.

He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”

“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.

The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…

“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.

Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.

But Spencer was there to catch you.

[grugruel]

Wicked Game

Pairings: cop!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: An out of control college party gets crashed by cops, someone tattled, and a cop chase ensues.

The chief is an old friend of your family, who you'd always had a crush on.

Thinking he's harmless, you talk back. But he can only hold back for so long.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: reader is 20, pinv sex, rough sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), choking, uniform kink, sir kink, reader being bratty, bucky doing something about it!! edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, handjob, fingering, pet names (girl, doll), praise (yay), mentions of masturbation, slight marking, degrading ish? cum eating, creampie, power dynamic, some soft!bucky at the end.

AN: This is not a Lee bodecker fic! This is just regular, muscly cop!bucky.

Blaring music and thumping bass fill an already crowded house, drunk daredevils otherwise inhabiting it.

God, my skull feels like it's about the cave in. The average college experience in other words.

I'd been drinking the least out of my friends, yet I felt the worst. They sat on the couch around me, trying the wide assortment of drugs that were splayed out in front of us. Littering the table along with various hard liqour bottles, all mostly empty.

Drugs arent my forte, but I wont nark them.

The party had only been going for an hour or so, I think? My lockscreen told me it was 2 in the night, holy shit? It had been 5 hours.

How the hell had no one called the cops yet? Little did I know, how badly I jinxed myself.

'Guys, Guys.' I lazily shrugged the shoulders of two of my friends sitting on each side of me, 'We- we, gotta go.'

'We're fine!' One of them drawled, splaying out on the couch.

I shook my head, head thumping in each bend, 'Theres literally. . .' I paused, searching tiredly for the right words, 'Uhm- No way! That the cops arent on their way here like, right now.'

'We've lasted this long.' The other said, shrugging his shoulders, grinning.

I groaned, 'Fine!' And threw my hands up in defeat, my friend observed me smugly. He held up some coke for me, raising his brows in question. To which I shook my head again.

A sharp alarm cut through the music, everyone groaned, heads complaining at the sound. I figured it was something with the sound system, but no.

I just had to jinx myself, remember?

As my ears adjusted to the sound, I realised. It's sirens, two or three. Cops.

'It's the fucking cops!' I shouted, alerting everyone. The music cut off, and the sirens clarified into the deafening sound of jail, or curfew. Depending on the cop. I was hoping and dreading the Chief in equal amounts, he could take it easy on me, or not.

I roused my friends, dragging them up from the couch and filtering them through the backdoor. Along with at least a hundred other people our age.

My attempts at freeing them had made me lag behind, one of my friends grabbed my arm, 'Come on!' She shouts, trying to pull me with them. But theres to many people between us and she loses her grip, swept away by the crowd.

The front door swings open behind me, and I freeze. Slowly turning around, I see a tall, broad shouldered figure standing silently observing the chaos from the doorway. He stepped inside, searching the crowd, and eventually. His eyes land on me.

'Give em' hell. Get the ones you can!' He barks the orders at his men, and then his eyes narrow in on me. Staring me down, 'And leave this one to me.' His words make my skin crawl, in fear of my parents finding out and possibly, excitement?

I wouldn't say no to punishment dealt by Chief Barnes.

His men rush past me out the backdoor, leading me to back up slowly. Placing the Coffee table between me and the Chief, securing myself somewhat.

Slowly, he stalks forward. A slanted smile growing with every step that he takes, making chills run up my spine. His uniform does him good I notice, shirt and pants sitting around his muscles perfectly. Belt and gun? Hot.

'Heeey, Buck.' I smile cheapishly, 'Fancy meeting you here.' Testing the waters, seeing what chances my charms have of easing the situation for myself.

He nods, raising his eyebrows in response and grins in spite, as if answering, "I'm sure it is" and "You're in deep fuckin shit now."

I laugh nervously and try again, 'I didn't know you enjoy college parties Buck? Or just, college girls?'

Amused, he steps closer, It's now only the table separating us. I step up on the couch behind me, desperately trying to make up for the space I'm losing. He puts his hands around his belt buckle, smirking. At least my incredibly funny self seems to have softened him.

He looks down, studying its content, then looks back up at me. His face turns displeased, undoing all my previous hard work to humour him.

I follow his gaze, looking at the table myself, and it dawns on me, 'No no no no!' I throw out in panic, 'Listen, Buck. . .'

'What could you possibly have to say-' he began and lowered his head, giving me a serious look, 'To get yourself out of this one?' referring to the table.

'I can think of a few things, I might have an ace in my sleeve.' I smirk. Metaphoricly speaking of course, my blouse does not have long sleeves.

He takes a firm step closer, a bemused look on his face, 'Ok Ok! It's not mine! It's not, mine.' I gesture to myself, then to the table in erratic motions. 'I'm an innocent bystander, I just sat on the couch. Never even touched the stuff.' I hold my hands up, palms out. As if it would stop him.

'Theres nothing innocent about you girl.' He tells me sternly, the corner of his lip tugging.

Stunned, there's a sudden flutter in my stumache.

Suddenly, the energy between us change. The tension grows and the look in his eyes turn hungry, like a hunter watching its prey.

'Pinky promise?' I ask, shrugging cheapishly.

He takes a few quick steps toward me, rounding the table. But I run to the end of the couch, making sure that the table is still between us. Butterflies surge through my body, giddy from excitement. This is the most fun I'd had all night. 'Buck, let's- lets be civil about this, alright? Let's just talk.' I giggle.

He chuckles, 'Oh, you think this is funny?'

Nodding, 'Kind of, yes. . .' I tease.

'We're far past talking.' He breathes, 'Had I been anyone else, had I not known your parents, you would've been in cuffs by now.'

My eyes turn mischievous, 'Whats stopping you?' I tilt my head, 'I assure you, I wouldn't mind.' And grin.

He chews the inside of his cheek, then charges, and I run, swivelling to avoid solo cups and various balloons on the floor. I hear his footsteps behind me, catching up. My agility is nothing compared to his raw muscle and speed, but I swerve into the kitchen, adrenaline kicking in. And manage to take cover behind the kitchen island.

Bucky grinds to a halt, slamming his palms into the counter, catching himself against it. Once again, im in safety. For a while at least.

'Youre gonna have to be faster than that.' I pant, grinning. He meets my eyes, pure animalistic tendencies behind them. The look on his face has me biting my lip, I couldn't wait for him to catch me. 'C'mon Chief.' I purr.

And somethings in his eyes ignite at the word, oh?

'Chief?' I test and he grunts, eyes glaring at me through his eyebrows. Naturally, I delve deeper, 'You feeling quite alright. . . Sir?'

He tilts his head with a jerk, then laughs 'You've done it now.' Those are warning words. Then he jumps, sliding over the counter.

'Holy shit!' I squeek as I take of running, narrowly avoiding his grasp. I run through the house with Bucky right on my heels, nothing but the the thrill of the chase keeping me going.

I run out by the backdoor, then stupidly enough, take a right. Into a garden, a fenced in garden. The high type of fence too. I regret my decision the second I see notice it, but its to late. Buckys steps slow behind me, and I slow to a stop myself as I come face to face with a dead-end. 'Oh, fuck me.' I breathe, absolutely exhausted.

'Famous last words, doll.' He cuckles between pants.

I turn around and smile through the pain, 'Ha ha! Funny guy. What. A funny. Guy.' I clench my teeth, sighing.

My eyes lock onto his frame, hands on his hips as he's catching his breath. Mesmerized I stare, men in uniform, huh? Im starting to see the appeal.

Slowly, he begins walking toward me, prowling like a tiger. He grabs hold of his belt, pulling it upward to adjust his pants.

God damn.

My uterus is aching, my entire body is aching. I would've drooled if I hadnt come to my senses, escaping. Right.

I make a break for it. In one quick motion, I turn around and jump. Grabbing hold of the upper ledge of the fence and pull myself up, my feet scrambling against the wood to find some sort of purchase. But im too slow, too focused. I didn't even hear him come up behind me, but I did feel his big hands on my waist.

He yanks me down and pushes me toward the fence, his body flush against my back. I gasp and he digs his fingertips into my waist, making sure I don't escape again. His touch makes me yearn for more, I want it deeper.

He levels his head with mine, leaning in close to my ear. Close enough to feel his hot breathing against the skin on my neck, 'I got you now.' He whispers, making my skin prickle with goosebumps and setting of a pulse deep below my stumache. But I wasn't willing to give up just yet. With my hands free, I pry his own from my waist and turn around, pushing him back by the chest.

Now. . . The intention was to push him hard enough to give me space to run past, but. . .

He barely budged, he grabbed my wrists and pushed me back against the fence, pinning my body between the wood and himself. Wrists in hand, he anchored my arms to my sides by grabbing onto the fabric of my skirt. Rouching it, he helt the flesh of my ass under his fingers.

I laugh nervously, 'You're not gonna tell mom and dad are you?'

He just chuckles, fuck im truly, in deep shit.

I try wriggling free from his grip, but he holds my wrists tighter, carefully slamming them into the fence above my head and leans against me. Leaving zero space for me to move, every curve of our bodies complete the others, I swear I can feel his bulge against my hip. He moves his face closer to mine, needing me to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. When I do, a self-satisfied smile covers his lips. His face inches from my own, we were basically sharing one breath as his lips barely brush over mine. 'You gonna be a good girl for me and behave?' He asks, breathing heavily.

I whine, he can't possibly turn me on more. 'Depends.' I say.

''Yeah?' He practically whimpers.

I close the distance between our lips, but he pulls back and smiles, teasing me. I meet his eyes and we look at eachother intently, as if entranced, I cant break contact.

He lets go of my wrists and traces his hands down my arms, all the way down to my hands. Chills run amock over my body, I close my eyes and lean in again, but suddenly-

I hear a clasp, then another and I can just feel him smirk against me. My eyes go wide and I realise, 'You didn't.' glaring at him.

'I did.' He laughs, 'What made you think you were in a position to negotiate?'

I look down and sure enough, cuffs bind my wrists together. Shocked, my mouth falls open. I didnt even feel him reach for them.

He backs up and grabs my arm, pulling me with him. 'Could you at least let me off around the corner from our house?' I ask as we make our way toward his car, he glaces down at me but doesnt answer, 'So they dont see me get dropped off in a cruiser, you know?' He opens the front door for me, and helps me inside, 'And maybe avoid talking to them for a few weeks, you'd really be doing me a favor, Buck.' And without a word, he closes the door and walks around to his side. Getting in and driving off.

The first portion of the ride is silent, he'd done what he had to, to catch me. Damn.

Luckily for me though, the party was a long way from home. Meaning I have some time to devise a plan.

I look at my cuffs, carefully observing them. Hmm. . . I yank my hands apart, trying the strength of the schackles, hoping the sound would gather his attention.

This was a game of chance, a game of seduction and persuasion.

Gently, I tickle the skin on my upper knee, 'I really didnt do any drugs y'know.' tracing back and forth with my fingertips, acting somber. Then lay my hand flat against my thigh, squeezing it absentmindedly. Continuing with rubbing small, firm circles with my index finger into my skin and turn to look out of the window.

Bucky clears his throat. The reaction I was looking for, perfect.

I spread my legs slightly, letting my hands slide down either side of my thigh. Clasping them together underneath and slide them up along my thigh. The skirt catching on my cuffs, revealing more and more of my-

-his hand flies to my thigh, hooking the cuff over his thumb and squeezing my flesh. Keeping me from showing anything more. Fuck, my core is throbbing from that alone.

'Buck?' I ask innocently.

'Dont' he croaks, voice sounding pained.

'Sorry-' I pause, glancing at him carefully. His eyes are fixed sternly on the road, 'We could talk about this like adults you know, make a deal.' He squeezes my thigh harder, I lift one hand with the restricted movements of my cuffs and caress his fingertips, 'A real good deal, benefitial for the both of us' I suggest.

'You talk too much for your own good, girl.'

'I'm not quite sure what you mean, Sir?. .' I bite my lip as he looks over at me, meeting my eyes through my lashes. 'You wouldn't tell on me to my parents, would you?' I ask, giving him my best puppy eyes.

He looks away, sitting silently until the next exit comes up. He flashes his indicators and turn off the main road, parking in an empty clearing.

'You want a deal, doll?' He asks, looking straight ahead. Sliding the cuffs off his thumb as his hand travel downward, fingertips sliding under my skirt, knuckles brushing over my clothed clit. Lust flashes through my nerves, and I gasp.

'A deal, or you. Both sound good to me.' I whisper, on the edge of my seat. Eagerly awaiting his answer, waiting for him.

He looks back at me, meeting my eyes with a fiendish grin, 'Then put that big mouth of yours to use.' He orders.

Nodding enthusatically, I lean over. Unbuckling his belt and zip down his pants, I reach into his boxers and fuuuuck, my hands barely fit around him. I pull him out and pull my hands to my mouth, wetting my fingers before returning them. One hand carefully stroking small circles around his tip, while the other strokes him up and down in cylindrical motions along his shaft.

The chief of police bites his lip, muffling a whimper as I move faster, 'Uhh- mmm. .' He hums, 'Yes- yes, doll. Fuck. .' He stutters.

Such a strong man crumbling under the touch of a woman, it was turning me on like nothing ever has, the power I hold is surprising.

His fingers move under my panties and slide along my slit, making it my turn to moan. I Buck my hips to give him better access, and he dips his fingers inside me. Pumping them slowly as he's getting them wet, then slides up to my clit, circling around it. 'Holy-' I gasp, 'Shit.'

We buck our hips to the others touch, leaning against the other, shoulder to shoulder, temple to temple. Moaning breathely. Our lips finally meeting in a needy kiss, tounges moving with the rhythm of our bodies. 'Please, doll. Be a good girl.' He begs between our lips.

Fuck me, that heartbeat in my utherus spread in pulses through out my entire body.

I grin and pull back. Leaning over, I carefully lick the leaking cum off his tip clean, then take him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his head, licking greedily. Tasting the salt of him. I push deeper, sucking his length into my mouth. The sloppy sounds of saliva and lips were vulgar inte the most intoxicating way. His hand continues massaging my clit while the other snakes into my hair, grabbing a fistful and aiding my movements. Helping me set merciless pace.

Bucky groans, our strokes growing in greed as we close in on our releases. He shoves two big fingers into my core, curling at just the right spot. Pleasure surge through me, leaving me to stuff my throat with his member, muffling a scream as I topple over the edge. I feel him come right after, my mouth filling with his seed and hearing his moan of completion. The bitterness of salt waa overwhelming to my tastebuds, I swallow what I can and pull myself off.

Leaving a sloppy mess around my mouth, I sit back and smile. Breathing heavily as I regain my strength, Bucky looks at me and laughs, 'You got something right here.' gesturing circles around his mouth, reffering to mine. I wide my mouth clean with my thumb and suck it off, Bucky smiles proudly at the sight. Then brings his own fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of them.

Heat ignites within me once again.

Bucky cups my face with one hand and pulls me into a kiss. The tastes of eachother mixing, I can't quite tell what is what. But it's wonderful. Bucky pulls free and looks at me, I give him a hazy, expectant look. He strokes my cheek with his thumb and slides out of the car, walking around to my side. I furrow my eyebrows as he helps me out of the passenger seat. He pulls me to the hood of the car, pushing himself against me until the back of my legs hit the grill. He leans in and whispers against my ear, 'Still need to punish ya.' He drawls, a shiver running through my spine.

'Im begging you Chief.' I look at him thtough hooded, lustfilled eyes, 'Please punish me.' I groan, smiling.

His dick twitched at the word, making him close his eyes to keep his composure. Then suddenly bends down and finds purchase under my knees. In one swift motion, he pulls, and I fall back onto the hood, 'Wanting it defeats the purpose, doll.' He growls, then opens his eyes. But the sight before him makes him unravel.

Upperbody bent to the side in an effort to prop myself up on my forearms, thanks to my cuffs. Skirt over my hips and legs spread, core exposed and ready for him.

'Do you worst, please. Sir. . .' I whisper and grin.

His eyes snap to mine, and that "You're in for it now.' Expression returns, 'Fuckin brat.' He spits.

Then, he kneels. He fuckin kneels. A shiver runs up my spine a the sight, 'Some punishment, huh?' I ask, but he only smirks. Hooking my legs over his shoulders, and grabbing each thigh to keep them spread, then, without warning, he dives in.

I bite my cheek to stop myself from screaming, pulses of pleasure run through me like electric currents. He pushes his tongue inside me, feverishly licking at my juices, exploring my walls, burrying his face in my cunt. Nose pushing up against my clit, making my back arch deliciously. 'That all you can do?' I tease, grinding my hips against his nose, desperate to get some friction. But his eyes meet mine, glaring as he moves his hands to my hips, holding me steady.

He pulls back for a second, just to spit on my cunt, then hastily returning, chasing my clit. I gasp, burrying my cuffed hands in his hair, pulling him closer as I want more. Making him moan against me, his voice vibrating against my clit. My sight blurs from the pleasure, a knot tightening inside me 'More.' I beg, 'So close.'

His tongue slide out of me, and I whine. But he licks a stipe up my cunt and then attatches at my clit, sucking and nipping at my sensitivity. My body jolts, and I shut my eyes. 'You gonna cum?' He asks, voice muffled.

I can barely answer, pleasure overwhelming me as white specks my vision, 'Ye- yeah. . ' I moan, 'So close, ju- just like th-' I begin, about to reach my climax again, but suddenly.

He let's go, pushing himself off of my clit with on last lick and sits back on his heels, watching my unravel.

'No, please, Buck.' I squrim, whining at the loss of him. I try to pull him back, but he doesn't budge. 'I'm begging, please, please.' I whimper, closing my legs and pushing them together, moving my hips for any sort of friction to finish what he started.

'Mouthy brats dont get to cum.' He chuckles and grab my knees to pull them apart. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as the knot loosens again. In a last desperate effort, I pull my hands from his hair, burrying two fingers in me while my thumb rubs my clit. Just for a second, that exctatic feeling returns, blissful sparks ignite, until- he pushes his body between my legs to keep my thighs in place and grab my wrists, ripping them from my cunt. Then laughs, he laughs.

'Not funny.' I whimper.

'It is. . . Im not done even done yet.' He says, face glistening with my juices.

I fall back against the hood groaning, as the ache in my core reaches my bones. 'I need you so bad.' I whisper.

'What was that?' He asks.

'I need you. Buck please.' I whimper.

'Can't quite hear you, doll.' He mocks, hands squeezing tighter around my wrists.

'I fuckin need you inside me, ok?' I almost shout, 'Fuck me, hard. I'm begging, jus- just need you in me.'

'Yeah?' He laughs, standing up. Hooking his hands under my knees and slide me closer to him. His hand trace my skin to my waist, getting a tight grib. Then, in one smooth motion, he flips me to my stumache.

I can't help but gasp, 'Think you can act like a brat all night, and get away with it?' He asks, smaking my ass once. I yelp, the sting making my eyes water in the most delicious way. He lines himself up with my entrance, pushing on it slightly. His tip breeching.

'Please.' I whimper, muttering a string of curses. And without warning, he shoves himself inside. Again, I bite my cheek. Pleasure rolls through me, electrocuting every nerve. He grabs my hips, sinking his fingertips deep into my skin. Silently, I beg for them to leave bruises. Theres nothing hotter than a souvenir to remember him by.

He sets a hard pace, thrusting deeply. Pulling back almost all the way before forcefully pushing himself inside again, over and over. My brain doesnt function, I can't form words, all I can do is moan. The sound of slapping skin perfectly lewd in my ear. 'Harder Buck.' I request.

He leans down, grabbing my throat and pulling me flush against his chest, pushing his nose into my cheek, 'Yeah? This not enough for you?' He asks, grunting in my ear.

'Not enough, more.' I mewl.

His hand tightens his grip around my throat, cutting off just enough air to give me a dizzying euphoria. His other hands come down on my ass again, smacking hard as he thrusts deeper. Then re-grips your hip, using it to push and pull your, making our bodies come together even harder, 'Greedy girl, cant fuckn get enough huh?' He groans between breaths, hot against your skin.

I shake my head, the only answer I can manage as I feel my walls twitching, closing around him. He can feel it too, his hips stutter, throwing his thrusts of balance. He bites my ear, lightly tugging on it before kissing my cheek gently, then kissing down my neck.

A stark contrast to the rest of his movements, it's enough to make my head spin. It's almost too much. I feel the blinding pleasure threatening to spill inside me, 'You wanna cum girl?' He asks against the crook of my neck. I nod my head enthusiastically. 'Words doll, use your words.' He breathes.

'Ye- Yes, please.' I manage, 'Wanna cum so fucking bad, Chief.'

He grunts, hand slipping from my throat to my breasts, working them roughly. Palming, squeezing, pinching 'C'mon, cum for me doll.' He says between pants and immidietly, I topple over the edge. Pleasure blinding me as he continues thrusting, continues to assault my breasts. My body begins spasming, and my knees go week, 'Bucky. . . Fuck-' I groan, but he holds me up. All my senses feel like they're about to burst as he prolongs my orgasm, stretching it out in an exhuastingly wonderful way. He bites down on my shoulder, squeezing my breasts, muffled grunts escaping him as his own body spasms and his thrusts halt, his member finally filling me with seed.

He collapses on top of me as we catch our breaths, im so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

I close my eyes for a second, but doesnt register Bucky pushing himself off of me, or him gathering me in his arms and laying me in the backseat. I don't feel him wrap his jacket around me, or the ride home.

But I do rouse from my sleep as Bucky carries me into my room and lays me down in my bed, he kisses me on the forehead, 'Hey doll.' He whispers, a soft smile on his lips.

I panic slightly as I realise that I'm home, 'Mom n' dad?' I ask anxiously.

'I made a good excuse, don't worry.' He strokes some hair from my face, 'Sleep. You need it. I'll go easier on you next time.' He promises.

'Next time?' I ask, a tired smile covering my face.

'Next time.' He assures, and you drift back to sleep. He stands up and walks to the doorway, silently watching you with admiring eyes as he carefully closes the door.

He tells your parents a made up backstory and they understand, happy to see him. They invite him to dinner next weekend and he happily accepts, he'd do anything to see you again.

He thinks about you the entire car ride home, in the shower as he beats himself off and in the morning as he wakes up with a hard on from dreams off you clenching around him.

He can do nothing but count the days until he sees you again, guranteeing himself it will be a memorable occasion.

[imyourbratzdoll]

Just read your Charlie Swan fic💕💕 it was great. Can I request smut with Charlie swan where reader was riding him in public in the police car and a fellow police officer catches them. After that the whole station talks about it and Charlie and reader are being called freaky😭😭 female reader please. Thanks alot 💕💕

hello honey! thank you and I'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you like it.

summary - you and the chief get freaky in his car.

warning - smut, public sex, cream pie, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You tug on Charlie’s hair as you ride him, bouncing up and down. Your moans fill the small space, causing Charlie’s cock to throb and his head to fall back into the headrest. His hands grip your hips, thrusting up into you as his breath hits your neck. “F–fuck, sweetheart. You feel so amazing.” You whine, and your head falls back, exposing your neck. “Keep going, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me!” Charlie places kisses on your sweet spot, sucking the flesh on your neck into his mouth softly. 

“O–oh, Charlie!” Your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling your walls tense around his thick member, your eyes roll back as pleasant shivers spread through your body. You can feel your orgasm approaching, it’s so close to snapping. “I’m going to cum!” 

Just as you are about to finish, there’s a knock at the window. “Hey, Chief! These windows aren’t tinted!” You both turn your head, Charlie covering any part of you that is exposed, holding back a groan as your walls pulsate around him rapidly. “But good job!” The officer chuckles, shaking his head and walking back into the station. 

Charlie looks at you. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” You smile, wiggling your hips slightly. 

“Don’t worry about it, are you going to make me cum, Chief?” You smile sweetly, batting your lashes. A gasp escapes you as he holds you against him and begins to pound into you. Your orgasm builds back up and you cum around Charlie’s cock. “F–fuck…” You tuck your face into his neck, moaning softly as he continues to fuck into you until he finishes inside of you. 

Charlie moves your head back, cupping your cheek while stroking your hair back. “You are beautiful, I just want you to know that.” He whispers, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your lips. “Are you ready to go back in? There’s no doubt that he’s told everybody.” Charlie rolls his eyes, smiling when you giggle. 

You nod, fixing your clothes and leaning over to grab your perfume out of your bag to spray yourself with. When you place it back into your bag, you grab your lip balm and swipe it across your lips while staring Charlie in the eyes. He watches with adoration before he opens the door and helps you out, ensuring you don’t hit your head or fall. 

Charlie holds your hand as the two of you walk into the station. Everyone’s head turns and cheers begin to fill the room. “Chief! Chief! Chief!” Their fists punch the air as they surround you. “We didn’t know our boss and his girl would be so freaky!” One of them shout, sending a wink your way. 

Charlie shakes his head, his cheeks turn pink, and he pulls you closer to him. “Alright, alright. You’ve all had your fun, now get back to work.” 

You giggle and bury your face into his chest, feeling your cheeks heat from all the attention. As everyone scatters and gets back to work, you remove yourself from his chest and look up. “I guess we are freaky, Chief. Wanna get freaky in your office?” He smirks and nods, pulling you toward his office and ignoring his employees.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[shoot-the-oneshot]

What a joke

Travis Kelce x Reader

prompt 88 “you? beat me? What a joke” requested by @sorryidonttreatulikeagoddess hope you like it!

“Oh come on!” Travis shouted, throwing his hands in the air while you smiled in victory.

It was date night every week you would both turn off the phones and spend time together and this week it was pizza a chess, while it doesn’t happen often this is when you’re reminded how sore of a loser he is, and you loved it.

“It was one game don't get cocky.” He grumbled seeing your facial expression

“It was five games actually baby, but dont worry you’re still the checkers master.” You giggled picking up the plates to take them to the kitchen Travis following not far behind.

“Listen sweetie I’ll let you have this win but just remember I’ll win any other game.” You could feel his smug smile even before you turned around. Matching his position you leaned back against the counter and folded your arms.

“Any game you say?” You prodded, knowing it would draw him in, doing exactly that he stepped forward pinning you with his arms caging you against the counter, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Any game.”

“Even football?” His laugh echoed through the kitchen. “You? Beat me, at football? What a joke”

You waited for him to sober up before continuing with the idea in your head. Travis straightened little laughs escaping his lips. “I’m serious put your team together and I’ll pick mine, we can make a whole thing of it and donate to a charity of the winning teams choosing.”

You had his full attention as you spoke of course you would turn a competition into a good thing and he loved you a little more for it. He thought it over but you knew by the smile on his face he was in.

“Better get your team together because it’s on.” He held his and out to shake but the second your palm touched his, he pulled you into his chest. “May the best team win.” He whispered against you lips before pulling away and immediately going for his phone no doubt calling Pat, good thing you had your own phone calls to make.

You waited until you heard the shower turn on before your struck. Running as quietly as possible into Travis’s office, grabbing his headphones Jasons face popped back up on screen.

“Heyyy Y/N hows it going.” He boasted you’re glad you were wearing headphones or Travis definitely would’ve heard.

“Hi it’s good soooo I’m assuming you’ve heard about the game between Travis and i?” You asked pleading tone seeing him shake his head “Sorry i already told Trav i would play for him.”

“Oh come on.” You begged before a lighbulb went off. “What do you like more, supporting your brother or beating him?”

You watched as it sunk in your fingers tapping anxiously on the desk as you waited.

“So I have some ideas for our jerseys.” And just like that you had a center.

After months of planing the day has come you were decked out in the shiny gold Jersey Jason wanted standing across from Travis and Patrick on the field.

“The time has come baby you can back out now” Travis sang, ever for the dramatic he announced every member of his team as if it was a UFC match. Which to no surprise to you included most of the chiefs players.

“I think you’ll change your tune after you meet my team.” You smiled, taking the microphone from the announcer.

Thank you for everyone coming out to support a good cause and to watch Travis lose against my team today,” you paused looking to the stands as people cheered.

For our center may i introduce… Jason Kelce!!” He ran out of the tunnel to stand next to you while Travis dropped his jaw. “You said you had an interview with ESPN today!” Travis yelled pointing.

Jason shrugged “I probably will after this.”

“My own brother that’s cold” you smirked at his words moving on to the next players

“And next up on defense we have all the way from Miami, Jaelan Phillips! And the cheetah!” (Go watch hard knocks episode 2 trust me)

“And the man who broke the internet with his skims campaign…NICK BOSA!!” Travis rolled his eyes knowing the small crush you had on Bosa before you got together.

“Now for the quarterback. I know we needed something big and might i say i think we delivered.” You paused for dramatic effect, you saw Travis glance at Pat to make sure he wasn’t pulling a switch like his brother.

“The only man to have beaten Patrick Mahomes in the playoffs..Joe Burrow!!” The Crowd erupted as he came running out coming to stand on your other side. you met eyes with Travis “You can back out now baby” pulling his words back on him handing the mic back to the announcer to do his thing while you left your team to run to the sidelines with Kylie. “Now this will be a good game.” She spoke actually wearing the golden jersey which surprised you since she only wears eagles gear but as she said it wasn’t a real team so it doesn’t count.

“Let’s just hope they win.”

(I do not know enough about football to write the game but I’m learning)

Later that night you and Travis found yourselves back on the couch large trophy sitting on the coffee table. “You, beat me at football what a joke.” You repeated in a comically deep voice while giggling.

“Yeah yeah next week we’re playing checkers.” He pouted with his arms crossed gearing at your trophy. “If you promise not to throw a chair this time sure” You joke ending with a yelp as he lunges at you.

Hey guys my first time writing NFL hope yall liked it check out my other works here

[ihni]

The sound of the doorbell is what wakes him. The morning sun is shining in through the window, hitting the messy curls on the pillow next to him and making them shine like gold. The sight makes him smile, and his first instinct is to reach over and brush the curls away from his boyfriend’s face. There’s nothing better than getting to watch him wake up, after all; watch those blue eyes flutter open and squint against the light.

The doorbell rings again before he can act on his urge, though. It is followed by loud knocking, which rouses the body next to Steve; unfortunately in a less peaceful way than Steve had imagined. Billy’s eyes shoot open and he tenses as he immediately takes in where he is, and with who. Wide, blue eyes meet Steve’s.

“Shit!” he says and is halfway out of bed before Steve can even react, pulling a shirt – Steve’s, not that it matters – over his head. “It’s Neil!”

Steve has just opened his mouth to protest, say that it’s not – it can’t be, Neil doesn’t know about them – when there’s a knock again, and an angry man’s voice drifts up from outside.

And it is indeed Neil’s voice.

Shit.

Steve jumps out of bed too and nabs for the other shirt that’s been discarded on the floor – but no, no, he can’t show up at the door wearing Billy’s shirt, he can’t, so he drops it again before hurrying to his closet. He pulls on an old T-shirt, and then whirls around and grabs Billy’s face between his hands. Billy’s face, which has gone ashen with fear.

“Stay here,” Steve says. “I’ll get rid of him. It’ll be okay.”

He turns and walks out of the room, squaring his shoulders as he goes. In his periphery, he sees Heather’s head peek out of the guest room that she and Robin stumbled into late last night while blushing and giggling, but he ignores her as he makes his way to the stairs.

The knocking and shouting continues, sending equal measures of anger and fear down Steve’s spine. How did the man know to come here? Billy said he’d told him that he was going to a party last night; said that he wasn’t even given a curfew. The man would have had no reason to suspect that the party was in fact a very private affair at Steve’s place, with just him and Billy and Robin and Heather – a safe place, as all of them knew about each other’s preferences by now – and definitely would have had no reason to show up on Steve’s doorstep this early in the morning. As far as Steve knows, Billy’s dad doesn’t even know Steve by name, and shouldn’t know where he lives.

He’s halfway down the stairs when a hand grasps his arm.

“Don’t,” Billy says, voice shaking. Steve turns – he’s standing a step below Billy, so he has to look up to face him – and sees that Billy’s shaking his head. “Don’t open the door.”

He’s scared, Steve realizes. Really scared.

From outside the door, they can now make out Neil’s angry words between the bouts of knocking. “I know he’s in there! Open the door. William!”

Billy is just standing there, still holding on to Steve’s arm. His eyes are big and pleading. He’s obviously terrified, and it feels so wrong. No one who has fought monsters with the same fervor as Billy should ever have to be scared of a mere human.

A calm settles over Steve, followed by resolve. He gently extricates himself from Billy’s grip – ignoring the way Billy trembles – and says, “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He continues down the stairs, but Billy shoulders past him and blocks his way. Puts both hands on Steve’s chest and pushes. “I don’t care if he hurts me,” he hisses. “But he’s dangerous.” The man yells some threats from the other side of the door and knocks again. Rattles the door handle for emphasis, this time. Billy flinches and looks over his shoulder before continuing, “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Steve says. He doesn’t know that for sure, but he can’t imagine it. This is his house, or, well, his parents’. Neil is the one who’s trespassing. And Steve knows the Chief of Police.

He walks past his boyfriend and crosses the hall. A hand lands on his shoulder again. Not forcing him to stop or trying to hold him back; just there. Imploring.

“Please,” Billy begs, and it pierces Steve’s heart like a knife because Billy doesn’t beg.

Billy, acting like this, is not right. The man on the other side of the door has brought Billy too much pain already. This has to end. And that end starts now. By getting rid of the immediate threat.

They’ll figure out the rest later.

Steve walks on. Stops in front of the door and only then realizes that Billy’s standing there with him, still with a hand on his shoulder. He’s watching Steve with big, wet eyes and shaking his head silently. Don’t do this, he doesn’t say out loud. Please, just ignore him.

But Steve can’t. Not this time. Not when the man is ranting on his doorstep on a Saturday morning, threatening to break in. Not when Billy’s standing here next to Steve, shaking with terror.

Billy is not getting hurt by that man in Steve’s house. If Neil tries to set one foot inside, Steve will kill him.

Steve reaches for the door, and with his other hand, he pushes Billy up against the wall just inside the door. Close enough to touch, but out of sight of his irate father. He can feel Billy’s heart beat frantically under his hand, and silently vows that this is the last time. This is the last time Billy is afraid.

He breathes in deeply and takes a second to slip into spoiled rich-boy mode. Then he opens the door.

“What?” he drawls, unimpressed. He gives the man outside a contemptuous look. The man draws himself up to say something, but Steve doesn’t let him speak. “Do you know what time it is? It’s Saturday, man. Some people are trying to sleep.”

Neil Hargrove is proper; not a hair out of place. It’s the first thing Steve thinks as he sees him up close – he has seen the man from a distance at times and listened in on the occasional phone call between him and Billy, but Billy has never let Steve even get close to the house on Cherry Lane when he knows that his dad is home.

The man is of average build and doesn’t look particularly dangerous from an outsider’s point of view, but there’s something cold in his eyes that sends shivers of fear down Steve’s spine when he’s pinned under Neil’s gaze. He doesn’t let his discomfort show, though; just lets the man take in Steve’s appearance fully – his messy hair, the way he’s just wearing a shirt and underwear, and how he’s obviously just got out of bed – and waits for him to speak.

“I know he’s here,” Neil growls – actually growls, like an animal. Steve sees movement out of the corner of his eye but doesn’t dare glance to where Billy’s huddling up against the wall. Instead he leans against the side of the door, placing himself more firmly between Billy and his dad.

He has seen the bruises on Billy’s skin and he has hated that he has to let Billy go back to that house time and again, but this is the first time he truly sees what Billy faces at home. He thinks, idly, that he won’t be able to let Billy go back there again.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and tries to make it sound as if he thinks the man isn’t all there in the head. By the way Neil’s face turns darker, he succeeds.

“My son, William. I know he’s here.”

“William,” Steve deadpans, as if it’s a word he has never uttered before. He raises one eyebrow. “Look, there’s no William here, man. You’ve got the wrong address. Go yell at someone else’s door. Or don’t, I don’t care. Just go away.”

He starts to close the door, but Neil’s hand shoots out and stops him. He doesn’t move to go inside, but he’s holding the door without letting it close, and staring at Steve with narrowed eyes. A challenge. A threat.

“I’m not leaving without my son.”

So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?

Steve draws himself up and narrows his own eyes as he stares back. He manages to dial back on the disgust, but some of it must shine through because he can feel himself sneering. “Who are you again?” he asks. Flippantly.

“My name is Neil Hargrove,” Neil says, pronouncing every syllable with obvious annoyance. Good. “And my son, William –“

“You mean Billy?” Steve says, letting surprise color his voice. “You’re Billy’s dad?” He doesn’t let the man answer, instead he lets out an incredulous laugh. “You think Billy is here?”

“His car is parked down the road,” Neil seethes, and oh. “You’re on the basketball team with him. And I know what he’s like. He’s a dirty little faggot who –“

Steve lets his face shut down. Slips on the mask that he has seen on his parent’s faces on many occasions during boring parties and work functions. The ‘do you know who I am’ persona. His voice is ice cold when he speaks.

“I’m not sure what you are insinuating, Mr. Hargrove, but if I were you, I’d stop talking.” Something like uncertainty flickers in Neil’s eyes. Steve drinks it in. “I don’t know if you know my parents –“ He nods to the brass plaque next to the door with ‘Harrington’ etched into it “– but I’m sure they won’t be too impressed when they hear that some lunatic showed up at their door on a Saturday morning, accusing their only son of being …” He holds Neil’s eye. Can’t – won’t – say the word the man used, not with Billy behind the door. “… a deviant.”

Disgust is dripping from his voice – disgust over this sorry excuse for a human, disgust over the fact that he has to deal with this at all – but that lends him credibility in this particular instance. He sounds just like an offended rich boy. An offended rich boy with influence.

As if on cue – which it most likely is, since Steve suspects that the girls have been listening in for some time now – there are soft steps behind him on the stairs, and Robin’s voice drifts out from behind him, “Steve? What’s going on?”

He lets the door open just a little bit wider under the guise of turning around, allowing Neil Hargrove to see Robin. Robin, whose hair is also sleep-mussed, and who is wearing an oversized button-up shirt. It’s not Steve’s – she must have taken it from his dad’s closet – but Neil doesn’t know that. She paints a perfect picture of a confused girlfriend who just woke up to the sounds of yelling, and Steve is so grateful that he’s friends with her.

“Nothing, baby,” he says, softening his voice. “Go back to bed.”

Robin hesitates with one more look at Neil. Licks her lips, as if she’s worried. “Should I … call someone? The police, or …?”

Perfect. Thank you for the assist, Robin.

“No, there’s no need to bother Jim this early in the morning,” Steve says, making sure to use Hopper’s first name, and turns back to face Neil. Neil, whose face has paled. Who has possibly started to realize that he may have messed up. Steve gives him a stiff smile and lets his voice go cold again as he continues, “Mr. Hargrove here was just leaving. Isn’t that right, Mr. Hargrove?”

Too proud or too angry to say it out loud, the man just gives a jerky nod and steps back. Steve will take it, as long as he leaves.

Starting to close the door again, Steve sneaks one glance at Billy’s pale face an arms-length away, and adds, in a sudden bout of inspiration.

“Oh, and if you’re looking for Billy in Loch Nora –“ He gives Neil, who’s half-turned to leave, a slow once-over, showing just enough disdain to make it clear that someone like Neil Hargrove doesn’t belong in this part of town, “– then I suggest you try the Holloways next. I think I saw him with their daughter Heather at the party last night.” He gives a sardonic little smile at the way Neil Hargrove’s face shutters. Everyone’s heard of the Holloways, just as everyone’s heard of the Harringtons. “I’m sure Tom and Janet will appreciate being disturbed on a Saturday morning just as much as I have. Who knows, it might get you a mention in the Post.”

With that, he shuts the door in Neil Hargrove’s face and locks it, and turns to his wide-eyed boyfriend. Who hasn’t moved from his space behind the door.

He ignores both Robin running out into the kitchen on silent feet – probably to make sure that Neil Hargrove actually leaves – and Heather coming downstairs, in favor of putting his hands on the sides of Billy’s face and lean in so their foreheads are touching. Billy is shivering and his breaths are uneven, but he reaches up and grabs at Steve’s wrist and the back of his head with something akin to desperation.

“I can’t believe you,” he whispers. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” Steve says, and is rewarded with a shaky little laugh.

“Shit,” Billy breathes. “I was so scared, Steve. I thought he was gonna –”

“But he didn’t.”

They stand there for a little while, just looking at each other. Holding each other and breathing each other’s air. Gradually, Billy’s tremors subside. His heart rate slows.

Eventually, Robin comes back into the hall and announces, “He’s gone. Got in his car and left.” She adds, pointedly, “Didn’t look like he was heading for the Holloways’, either.”

Steve looks at her and then drifts his eyes over to Heather, who’s sitting on the second to last step on the stairs, looking at them with one eyebrow raised. He winces. “Yeah … uh, sorry about that, I guess. I should have asked first.”

“You should,” Heather agrees. “But you didn’t, which means that you owe me one.” She looks between Steve and Billy and says, “I would have agreed if you’d asked, but you know. You still owe me.”

Steve laughs. Heather turns to Billy and points one well-manicured finger at him. “So I guess we’re dating now, you and I. I hope you know that I expect to be wooed.”

After Billy gives her a little salute, she nods and turns to Robin. Smiles lewdly as she takes in her appearance in the oversized shirt. “You look good in that,” she says, biting her lip. “Let’s see what other fun clothes we can find in that closet.”

The girls disappear up the stairs, giggling. Steve has a suspicion that his parents’ closet are going to be in complete disarray soon, but can’t bring himself to care. It’s a small price to pay.

“Do you want to go back to bed, too?” Steve asks, and belatedly realizes what it sounds like. “To sleep some more, I mean!” he adds. Because a Neil Hargrove scare first thing in the morning is probably not exactly a turn-on. “Or do you want breakfast? I can make breakfast. We have –“

“I want to go back to bed,” Billy says, thankfully cutting off the rambling.

“Okay,” Steve says and reaches out for his hand. When Billy’s hand slots into his, is it perfectly steady. No more tremors. “Okay, let’s do that.”

But Billy shakes his head. “I don’t wanna sleep, though.”

“… no?”

Billy’s looking at him through his lashes – his ridiculously long lashes, which he knows is Steve’s Kryptonite – and gives a small smile.

“Not gonna lie, babe. That was a terrifying experience. But …” He takes a step closer, brushes the lightest of kisses against Steve’s lip before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “… the way you shut him down like that, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Then he abruptly turns and sashays away, but not before giving Steve’s butt a quick squeeze as he passes.

He stops at the bottom of the stairs with one hand on the bannister, and looks over his shoulder all seductively. “You coming?”

Oh, Steve is coming, all right.

He chases Billy up the stairs. (And this time, when he catches him, he’ll hold onto him and never let him go back to that house again.)

[criminalmindswhore]

Playlists Tell All

Tara finds your playlist titled Prentiss and looks through it while you drive. She and JJ tease you about it until Emily finally finds out.

BOTH HANDS ON THE PHONE AT ALL TIMES 🤨 Also, this is long bare with me, also not proofread, oops.

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

It was no secret you were gay. It was apparent from the day you walked into the BAU wearing docs and a septum ring. Tara was the first to notice, lesbians find each other. You were never closeted to them but never shouted it in the bullpen either. If they asked, you told.

"Hey, Y/n can I ask you something?" Emily asked as you two went down the elevator. "Sure, what's up?" You smiled at her. "Are you gay?" She looked puzzled, "Miss BAU Unit Chief was the last to notice?" You chuckled and she looked offended, her mouth falling open. You were almost too distracted by your thoughts, 'I wonder if that's the face she makes when she-', to notice the elevator stop. "So like only women or?" She stepped out of the elevator, you following suit. You cringed at thinking of being with a man, "Only women." She chuckled, "I knew it." She stopped walking signaling you were parting ways for the night. The cold Virginia air made a chill run down your spine, or maybe you noticed the few shirt buttons undone on the way to the parking lot. "I'll see you tomorrow Y/n." She smiled at you and grabbed your bicep for a moment. The touch lingered in your brain, your skin on fire, "See you tomorrow Unit Chief of the gayest FBI unit." She laughed loudly at your comment as she walked away, her grey hair swaying with which step.

Your talks with Emily to your cars became a nightly thing, on purpose from your end but she didn't need to know that.

After a case in Northern VA, Tara, JJ and you were in an SUV driving back to Quantico. Tara deemed you the driver as you were a 'young sprite who would stay awake longer'. Your phone became the AUX phone and Tara sat up front scrolling through your music creating the perfect queue. Her eyes widened as she came across a playlist titled, 'long talks with Prentiss'. She sat straight up and looked at you. You turned your head to glance at her, then back at the road, "What?" She leaned back against the seat, "Nothing." JJ's interest was now peaked, "Tara, you gotta tell us now." Tara scrolled through the songs:

She - Dodie

girls - girl in red

1950 - King Princess

She's My Religion - Pale Waves

I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

Call Out My Name - The Weekend

and on and on and on...

Tara came up with a genius plan, queuing up all the songs. The second girls came on, it clicked. "Tara, I can explain." She just laughed, "Explain that you have a huge crush on someone almost 30 years older than you?" JJ put down her Cheetos, "Wait? Emily?" Your grip on the wheel tightened and your cheeks turned bright red. "Can you two just not?" Tara chuckled, "Oh no miss thing, you have to spill now." JJ laughed from the backseat.

You weighed your options, either tell them and they tease you about it, or you don't and they tease you even worse until you spill, "Fine," the two women high-fived, "but it doesn't leave this car. Clear?" JJ saluted at you and Tara nodded. "She's just so hot dude. How could I not find her attractive and she does that stupid thing when she's focused where she licks her lip and then bites it." You were gushing like a high school girl at this point. "And don't get me started on her hands." JJ cringed slightly. "Okay, but she's 1, your boss, and 2, old enough to be your mom." You sighed and grimaced, "Why do you think it lives in my head? I have a playlist and that's it. She will never know and no one else will." Tara shook her head, "Honey she probably already knows. Emily is one of the best profilers in the world, not only that she's got those super-secret spy skills. Has she been acting differently towards you?" You shook your head, "No, I mean we've been talking one-on-one a lot more but that's just because we usually leave at the same time." Tara hummed and JJ laughed loudly, "What JJ?" You were still horrified at the current situation and her finding it humorous was not helping. "She did mention how she knows someone in her inner circle is attracted to her but didn't wanna bring it up." She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. "JJ! You can't just tell me that!" Tara was losing it, doubled over in laughter. "You both suck."

It didn't get brought up again during the case. You thought it had blown over until you were all standing in the bullpen after the case chatting while people packed up bags and files. "Hey guys, what are laughing about?" Prentiss asked as she joined the group, bag in hand. "Reid is so oblivious to how much his neighbor wants to get in his pants," Luke explained while still laughing. Emily licked her bottom lip before pulling it between her teeth, Taras's head shot around to look at you wiggling her eyebrows. You scoffed and smacked her arm. "What's going on there?" Emily asked while smiling at you two, "Oh god are two?" Tara laughed and you nearly threw up in your mouth. The whole team was now looking at you and Tara with their mouths open, "God no! Tara and I are not sleeping together!" The team erupted into laughter except for you and Emily, staring into each other's eyes. She smiled sweetly at you and your face got hot. "I am going home, you guys enjoy bullying Reid." You grabbed your bag and stood up off your desk, "Wait, I'll walk with you, let me grab my cup from the kitchen." Emily took off swiftly to retrieve her mug and JJ gave you the 'I know something they don't' look. You glared at her and went to wait for Emily by the elevators. She approached you and pressed the down button, "Ready?" You nodded and stepped into the elevator.

The following week was full of being teased by JJ & Tara and Emily knowing something was up. Emily entirely said, "If someone made a playlist based on me I would be honored," while working a case. Which earned a stare from JJ and a muffled laugh from Tara.

One night you and Emily were heading down together like you usually did, "Hey, have you been seeing someone? Tara and JJ seem to know something about you no one else does." As you unlocked your car you froze. "Um, no, there's just a running inside joke going." You shrugged your shoulders trying your best to control your microexpressions. She seemed happy with your answer and wished you goodnight. You got in the car and turned on the playlist, your phone screen still open to it when someone knocked at your window. You rolled it down and Emily glanced at your lap, "Hey did you notice if- is that my name?" Her face was shocked, yours was pure fear. You flipped your phone over, "No." She saw right through you, "Y/n, let me see." She was smiling in a way you've never seen before. You didn't budge until Emily reached through the window and snatched your phone, turning away from your car. You unbuckled yourself and jumped out, "Emily please." It was too late.

She turned around, mouth agape, "Y/n, is this how you feel about me?" Her voice was low and dropped an octave. It shot shivers through your body erupting your core. You didn't know what to say, the damage was done. She stepped closer, reached behind you, and slid your phone into your back pocket. She went to move her hands but you grabbed her arms, holding them on your ass. "Emily." Your desperation showing in your voice. It set something off in her. Before you could process it, Emily's lips were on yours and your back was hitting your car. Her hands are on your hips gripping you tight. You snaked your arms around her neck gripping her hair. Her lips moved furiously on yours, her tongue swiping against your lips. The action made you whimper giving her access to your mouth. You could feel her chest moving on yours as she breathed heavily. She pulled away but kept her face inches from yours, "Y/n," she sighed, "This can't happen." You dropped your arms from her neck, she didn't move. "Fuck it." She said in the hottest fucking voice you've ever heard, you moaned at the sound before she attached her lips to yours again.

As her apartment door closed, bags were dropped, jackets discarded. Her lips moved against your neck as you gripped her shirt, "Emily, please." She chuckled, "Already begging for me pretty girl?" You moaned at the praise and Emily lifted a brow, "Oh you liked that huh?" Her arm reached around you to harshly grabbed your ass, "You like being praised by your boss huh? Like the slut you are?" Your knees buckled under you and she gripped your hips to keep you upright. Emily continued her attack on your neck as she pulled you to her bedroom, dropping you on the bed with a thump. "Pretty girl I need you to verbally consent for me before I fuck you senseless." She unbuttoned her shirt as you spoke, "Yes Emily, please. I need you." She slipped her shirt off exposing her black lace bra to you and you stared in awe. She laughed at you and took a finger under your chin pulling your eyes back to hers, "Up here." She spoke sternly and you didn't dare disobey at the risk of her leaving you high and dry. She straddled your lap and started undoing your shirt at an agonizing speed. You squirmed under her from impatience, "Ah, patience sweet girl. I'll get there. Although I understand why you're so needy after months of wanting me exactly like this. On top of you getting ready to make you scream my name." She slipped off your shirt and leaned in close, "I believe it was, call out my name I saw on that playlist of yours?" She left a wet sloppy kiss behind your ear. You could feel the pool of wetness growing between your legs.

She kissed down your collarbones as she unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. She kissed down to your chest until she reached your left nipple, swirling her tongue around it, "Mhm, fuck yes." You gripped her hair harder than you planned on eliciting a moan from her. It was music to your fucking ears. She discarded her slow and steady pace and reached down to unbuckle your belt, undoing your pants and slipping them past your ankles. They hit the floor with a metallic clink before she kissed down your stomach. She pulled off your underwear with her teeth, the sight nearly making you finish right then and there. "Emily, you're wearing too much, I wanna see you." Your voice was slurring, you were so drunk on every single thing you were feeling. She sat up and undid her bra, slipping it off, her perfect breasts falling against her chest. She was perfect. She stood for a second taking off her pants, revealing her perfectly toned legs.

She positioned herself between your legs and licked up your slit. The sensation making your head spin. Your hands gripping her sheets as she took your clit between her lips humming at the taste of you. "You are so in for it Y/n." Hearing her say your name like that was music to your ears. She started flicking her tongue against your clit and your back arched off the bed. She reached one of her hands up grabbing yours giving you something to ground yourself to this moment. You gripped her hands tightly as she teased you with the other hand. Emily removed her mouth from you looking up at you making eye contact, "Beg for it." Your words got caught in your throat causing Emily to completely move her hand away from you and harshly grip your thigh, "I told you to do something Y/n." You swallowed, "Please Emily. Please fuck me. Emily, I need you, please." She smiled devilishly before slamming two fingers inside of you setting a rough pace. "That's my pretty little slut." The cockiness apparent in her tone of voice. She maintained eye contact as she reattached her lips to your clit, pulling it between her teeth softly.

Emily's pace showed no mercy as she fucked you roughly. Her tongue and lips worked against your clit as she pumped her fingers in and out of you roughly. You were so close to coming undone and she could tell. She removed her mouth from you, still fucking you with her fingers, "Do you want to cum?" You writhed under her nearly screaming from pleasure, all you could muster was a nod. "I need words." You opened your eyes and looked into hers, "Yes. Please. I'll do anything." She smirked and let go of your hand, wrapping it around your throat. You moaned her name so loudly you swore the whole building would hear, but neither of you cared. She whispered against your clit, "Cum for me Y/n." She licked your clit once more before you came screaming her name and a slew of curse words. She continued her pace fucking you through the high until your body fell limp. She slowed her pace and slowly pulled her hands from you. She kissed up your stomach, "Such a good girl. You did so good pretty girl." She pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a warm, wet washcloth. She sat down at your feet, "Is it okay if I clean you up?" Her tone was gentle and slow. You nodded, not having feelings in your face. Your whole body felt like it was vibrating. She was soft and gentle, discarding the cloth into the dirty laundry.

She pulled a t-shirt over her head and laid one out at the end of the bed. She laid next to you, pulling you into her. You wrapped your arms around her waist before snuggling your head into her neck. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your head. "Emily, that was." You couldn't quite form the words as your nose was still tingling. "Awesome, amazing, perfect, I know." She giggled at her joke and you smiled. "Who would've known badass Unit Chief Prentiss likes to cuddle after sex." She scoffed, "Shut up! I can be soft!" You chuckled, "There's a shirt at the end of the bed if you want it. You can go to sleep, I'll get you up in the morning." You sat up and looked at her, "I'm kind of hungry." She smiled, her eyes wrinkling, "I'll grab you a snack." She left the room and you slipped on the shirt, never leaving the bed.

The playlist you regretted making, just got you the best sex ever.

[beelmons]

Hi! An idea I had was an enemies to lovers where Spencer says something he regrets like they slept together and reader sort of wears her heart on her sleeve and thought everything was okay between them but Spencer is still being hateful to reader and she’s confused until he’s like “I just wanted to sleep with you, nothing more”. Or smth like that 💗

cw: post prison spencer, mean!Spencer, angst no happy ending

You didn't know what it was, and if he was being honest neither did he, but Spencer Reid hated you to his core.

It started the day he met you, shortly after Emily Prentiss took over as Unit Chief, when you were assigned to the BAU as a probatory agent. Two rookies, Luke Alvez and yourself, being added to the team was not necessarily her vision of a perfect taskforce, but she could make it work with some help of her friends, hence why Tara and JJ were told to shadow Luke, and Rossi and Reid to shadow you.

But, of course, Rossi had less of a hands-on teaching style, so he was barely around in the field with you, leaving you to the capable hands of a recently traumatized Spencer Reid.

It was loathing at first sight, because, he'd never admit, something about you remided him of Cat Adams.

Maybe something in your eyes, or the way you walked, or perhaps the sound of your laugh, but his back muscles tensed whenever you were around, his hands curled into a fist, and his eyes couldn't help but narrow in suspicion.

A little extra issue, though, his member would also get extremely hard.

"You did what?!" Luke almost shouted from his desk.

"Shut up, man!" you pushed him by the shoulders, trying to sink him further into his seat "We slept together, alright?"

"How did you even make that happen? I thought he..." the man stopped himself once his ability to think before speaking came through.

"Hated me? Yeah." you finished his sentence "I don't know what to tell you. It was late, he was checking my preliminary profile, he said it was good and insightful, and next thing I know I'm facing the wall with my panties down to my ankles."

"Well, I guess that's one way to patch things up." he teased "So, what? are you guys dating?"

"I... don't think so?" you said with certain sadness "He left while I was cleaning myself up in the bathroom."

Luke was about to emit an opinion of his own when he sensed, but a foreign sound interrupted him.

"Good morning!" JJ's cheery voice caused the two of you to look up.

In the distance, Jennifer and Spencer walked towards your spot. You couldn't help the hopeless grin that appeared on your face at the sight of him, the same one he walked past without a single word.

Your crescent faded as quick as it came. What the hell was that? Giving you the cold shoulder like you are 10 and pulled his pigtails at the playground.

You heard the chief call to the round table and decided to save your little highschool quarrel for later. Luckily, serial killers had decided to take a break, and so your day would be desk duty only.

"Hey." when the clock neared lunch time, you decided to approach Reid.

He begrudingly raised his sight, pulling it away from you almost immediately. "Hey."

"Mind going to lunch with me?" you asked.

"I brought my own, thanks." he dryly refuted.

"Uhm, Reid." you moved in closer to his ear, and he almost flinched "That was code for 'I need to talk to you'"

"I'm aware of the connotations of your sentence, I just happen to not care for what the actual meaning entails." his eyes still refused to move to you.

He was back to being the annoying asshole you had always met, the exact opposite of the caring soul everyone else seemed to face on the daily.

"I..." a knot began to form on your throat "I thought we were okay again."

At last, he deemed you worthy of his stare, his eyes locking with yours and vaguely narrowing in your direction. You could see the burning flame of despise in them, the chilling sensation that if he could, he would take the life out of you with his hands in a second.

"Were we ever?" he snarked.

Something snapped, and you were blessed that the only two people you knew in the ballpen were Luke and Tara, who were merrily sharing some chinese food, otherwise you would had certainly been fired.

"Wha the fuck is your problem?!" you yelled as your hands smacked the surface of his desk.

"What are you-" he tried to complain.

"You had not once shown me a gentle face since I met you, and suddenly, you act reassuring and supportive, only to disappear without a word, and then act like not a thing happened!" you continued to raise your voice, your hands reaching to grip at his shoulders and force you to look at you when he tried to divert his gaze.

The sensation of being cornered and exposed caused an odd reaction out of him, you could see it in his eyes, almost as if he wasn't truly there.

"Did it ever cross your mind I said all this so you would let me fuck you?" his voice was almost as loud as yours "If not, then you are not half as good profiler as I thought you were."

Piercing. That's how it felt. The unmistakable sensation of a puncture to the heart. There was nothing else you could to do help yourself, or the tears that ran down your cheeks.

"What did I..." you began to mutter almost to yourself. Luke's arms had moved to your shoulders, tugging you away from your coworker. "What did I ever do to you?" you asked weakly, Luke now blocking Spencer from your line of sight.

The doctor was astonished by his own words, even more so by your tears. He didn't know how to describe them, they just seemed so... sincere?

"Spencer?" Tara called for a third time, snapping him out of a self-induced trance.

"What?" he asked.

"What happened?" she inquired again "Why would you say something like that?"

"I-" he looked around trying to find you, but your friend had taken you away "I don't know."

The fight would get to Emily's ears later in the day. Spencer was dismissed for the remainer of his shift, and so were you.

A part of him was being eaten alive by remorse, but the other, the one he deemed his conscious mind, tried to convice him he had done nothing wrong. Hadn't he spoken the truth? There was no reason to like you. Your gentle demeanor was not excuse enough, neither was your peculiar humor, or your relentless dedication to do good.

There was no reason to like you when you had caused him so much pain. Hadn't you?

His brain felt foggy, clouded, confused. Beyond his control, his body dragged him in the direction of your house, only to find himself at a crossroad he didn't know the name of.

Where did you live again? He had never asked you. Perhaps, he could call you. But your work phone was off and he didn't have your personal. What if he asked Luke? Yeah, right. After what he had witnessed, how could he be remotely on his side? He was forced back home, he would talk to you the next morning at work.

Was there something to talk about?

"A transfer?" Luke asked Penelope.

"She asked me to put a rush to it." the blonde clarified.

"And did you?" the man inquired with curiosity.

Garcia nodded with a pout.

"She just looked so sad." she clarified.

A knock on her door interrupted the conversation, and a soft 'come in' prompted Spencer to walk into the room.

The two coworkers shot him a look, curious and pitiful at the same time. Spencer narrowed his eyes questioningly at them.

"What?" he finally said.

"We know you've been through a lot." Penelope began to say "That you were taking it out on her for some reason, but I think you might have done this time, boy wonder."

Reid couldn't help but to swallow back a knot. They were right. Objectively, you had done nothing wrong. But objectivity had long lost its meaning, since he had learned that his reality could be bent to someone else's will to a point where he didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

"I didn't mean what I said." he quickly explained "That's what's I wanted to tell her."

"Well," Luke almost snarked at him "That's going to be a little hard now that she's gone."

"What do you mean?" Reid inquired.

"She had requested a transfer to the defense department months ago." Penelope explained "I just rushed some paperwork, but the deal was basically made."

Exposed to these news, Spencer bolted off the tech office and straight into Prentiss's. He basically stomped in, causing Emily to look confused for a solid second.

"Revert the transfer." he demanded, his palms firmly pressed on the desk.

"I thought you would be relieved..." she began to explain.

"We need her here. She's the most promising profiler we've seen in a while." he argued.

"Really?" Emily cocked an eyebrow "Because just a month ago your report indicated she was just average."

Spencer rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his hair, frustratedly turning around the office. He took a couple of deeo breaths, out of the corner of his eye he noticed your desk. Your belongings were already packed inna box, possibly Luke's doing to save you the awkwardness of a tidying up visit.

"I made a mistake." he admitted, his eyes still fixed on your empty chair.

"I'm sorry, Spence." the unit chief said "Sometimes, we just have to live with the consequences of our mistakes."

[written-with-blue-ink]

Lost in the Rain

You and your lover, Chief Iudex Neuvillette, are on your way to dinner but, along the way, you find a lost child...

Neuvillette X Reader, Fluff (sorry ive been gone so long, school, work, life, etc. still haven't played 4.1 yet)

The day was going by like most others. Neuvillette was just finishing packing his paperwork as you sat on the couch by the window, sunshine shining on your face as faint fluffy clouds brew over your head. As he closes the latches of the suitcase, his eyes meet yours and melt at your gaze. “Are you ready to go, my love,” he softly inquired.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, taking his case in your left hand so you could hold his hand with your right. Giving him a peck on the lips, you two head out the door and down the hall. As the large doors open to the city of Fontaine, you say, “We’re still pretty early for our dinner reservations.”

“Well,” your lover said, his cane moving as he took a step, “being very early is better than being a little-” Your partner was cut off in both word and stride, hand pulling you back. Turning your eyes to look at the Chief Justice you see a small boy, probably no older than eight, hands clenched on Neuvillette’s pant leg as he sobs. 

The clouds in the sky slowly turned gray as he leaned down. Picking up the boy, he saw his hazel eyes between the tears. “What’s wrong, little one,” he asked, gesturing you to move towards a nearby bench as he tried walking while carrying the boy.

“I- I can’t find my maman,” he wailed, rubbing his eyes on his shirt sleeve and sniffling back tears. “She told me if I-I get lost I should t-try to find someone twustworthy. Can…can y-you help me, Mon-sear New-vile-ette?”

With every word coming out of the boy’s mouth, the sky turned darker and the smell of petrichor hit your nose until the boy finished between the tears when the droplets of water finally fell from the sky and hit the ground. The soft droplets of rain fell into your hair as you walked over.

Neuvillette placed the boy on his lap and rubbed circles into the child’s back, looking to you for guidance but you could only shrug, leaning on his shoulder as a reassurance as you two kept an eye out for a frantic mother. 

The boy’s tears slowly fell as his attention turned to the sky, quivering eyes staring at the clouds as he pondered, “Why is it raining?”

Neuvillette thought for a second, lips pursed as he chose his next words carefully. “I think the Hydro Dragon is worried for you.”

“Yeah,” you add, softly smiling as you wipe a tear off the boy's cheek, “the same way we are, he’s a sensitive soul in that way.”

Neuvillete’s eyes met yours, softening at your words and the grimace on his face melted into a smile.

The boy’s eyes furrowed, and he bit his lip as he held back a sob. “Are you sure?”

“Certainly,” Neuvillette assured, moving his hand from the boy’s back to the boy’s shoulder reassuringly. 

Shifting his gaze to the sky, drops of rain hit his face and his hair. “HYDRO DRAGON, HYDRO DRAGON, DON’T CRY,” he shouted at the clouds, “WE WILL BE OKAY, DON’T BE SCARED.”

A small smile grew on Neuvillette’s lips, eyes sparkling with emotion as the clouds seemed to let up, becoming a small sprinkle instead. The sunlight passed through the clouds in beams, hitting your skin and bringing warmth to the Fontainian air. 

It took another ten or so minutes before you saw a woman with a Melusime Officer walking alongside her. As soon as her eyes caught sight of the boy, her pace quickened, a smile on her face as she shouted, “Liam!”

“Maman,” he shouted back, ripping himself from Neuvillette’s arms and running towards the woman. The rain seemed to dissipate as the boy hopped in his mother’s arms, giggling as she peppered his face with kisses. “I did what you told me to, maman! I found someone twustworthy to help!”

Her eyes looked up from her son, full of tears as she held the boy close. “Thank you for keeping an eye on my Liam, Chief Iudex. Mx. (Y/N).”

“It’s no problem, mademoiselle,” the white haired man smiled, standing up causing you to follow suit. 

The woman nods as she walks away with the boy in her arms, a grin plastered on his face as he waved, “Thank you Mon-sear New-vile-ette and Mx. (Y/N)! Bye bye!”

Your partner’s eyes watched the two of them walk off but yours drifted to him, heart pounding in your chest as you bit your tongue. When his gaze shifted to you, his eyes widened as his hand moved to your cheek. “My dear... is something wrong,” he asks as he wipes away a tear you didn’t realize was there. 

“No, my love,” placing a hand over his. Leaning up, you peck his lips gently, “happy tears. I hope we can have a little one like that one day.”

His pale skin flushed pink at your words and actions. “I would love that as well,” he whispers so only you can hear. Shifting his hand so he can delicately take yours, he kisses your knuckles and a smile appears on his lips, “But now, let’s get to our dinner reservation...”

[stevie-petey]

episode seven: the bathtub

Steve sighs, “I just… I wanna help.” Maybe it’s his black eye or the pathetic way Steve says he wants to help, but the man comes down the ladder and hands him the dirty rag he had been using. “All yours.” Steve takes his jacket off and accepts the rag and climbs up, ready to get to work. He really does want to help, he has been trying to help. And Steve just really hopes that you can see his efforts someday, maybe even soon. He’s had a really rough week.

summary: your brother basically places himself on the fbi's most wanted list and el flips a van with her mind, now you have to create a giant salt tub because of course you do, nancy tries Talking About It but hasn't she read the title ? you don't have the time. sidenote: you've somehow become a steve defender during these trying times. typical. meanwhile: steve's inner thoughts are pathetic.

rating: general, some swearing

warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/b, implications of death and violence

words: 10.2k

before you swing in: hello ! long time no see, i apologize :/ working while im home for winter break and my hours suck, but we move on ! heres chapter 7, she was a pain to write because it was more complex than i thought, but i love her dearly </3 enjoy !

-

When you finally get to the police station, exhausted and sweaty from running, an angry blond woman is following after Hopper as he guides Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan towards his cruiser.

“Aren’t you going to do anything about that toothless kid and his weird friends?” She screams at the officer, but he just ignores her and instructs the others to get into the car.

A toothless kid and his weird friends? Gee, you wonder who the woman could be talking about.

You get to the car right as Hopper has started the engine. You knock on the window and he sighs when he sees it’s you. He rolls down the window. “Why is it always you?”

“I think it’s time you learn that wherever he goes,” you point towards Jonathan, who smiles at the chief, and then you point at yourself. “I go.”

“She’s right.” Joyce mumbles from the passenger seat.

Hopper places his head in his hands and sighs once more. “We don’t have time for this. Step away from the car. Now.”

You blink. “I’m sorry?”

“Leave, go home.”

Jonathan speaks up from the backseat. “Hopper, she has to come with us–”

“Where the hell are you guys going? Weren’t you arrested?” You ask, now even more confused.

“Not arrested, just detained.” Joyce corrects.

The officer groans. “Does any of this matter? We need to leave, now.”

“We can leave as soon as you let me in the car.”

Hopper stares at you. “You have no idea what you’re walking into, kid.”

“Try me.”

“Step away from the car–”

“The ‘toothless kid’ that the crazy woman shouted about is my brother!” You shout, entirely over this entire conversation. Like hell this bitter old man is going to stop you from following wherever Jonathan goes. Especially if Dustin is involved somehow.

“I told you, no-”

“I can and will hop on the hood of this damn car if you don’t let me in within the next five seconds.”

Hopper laughs. “Sure ya will.”

“One,” you begin counting.

“That’s not going to work.”

“Two,”

“Uh, Hopper?” Jonathan speaks up. “She’ll do it, you know.”

“Three,”

Hopper doesn’t listen, and now Joyce is getting annoyed. “Hop, just let her in.”

“I kind of want to see her jump on the hood.” Nancy says, causing Jonathan to laugh.

“Four,” you walk to the front of the car and pop your foot up, getting ready to start climbing. If Hopper thinks you aren’t being serious, then that’s his own damn fault. He starts shouting at you to knock it off while Joyce pleads with him to listen to you. Jonathan tries to get out of the car, but Hopper has locked them in. Everyone is arguing and yelling and you’re just ready to say fuck it and straddle a cop car.

Right before you can jump entirely onto the hood of the car, Nancy lurches from the back seat and screams through Hopper’s window, “Y/N, just tell the man about El!”

Everyone freezes; no one says a single word. Slowly, you lower your leg and walk over to the driver’s window once more while Hopper just stares at you. You can’t exactly read the look on his face, but if you had to guess, it’d be something like of course this kid knows about El.

“Who the hell is El?” He demands as soon as you’re back in front of the window.

“Buzzed hair, nose bleeds when she uses her powers, and hangs out with my brother and his friends. Ring any bells?” You ask, a slight smirk on your face because you know you’ve won. Bless Nancy’s quick thinking.

Hopper’s face drops and he lets out a tired sigh. “So, you know about the girl?”

You snort. “Yeah, I know about her. Better yet: I've met her, and I know something awful is about to happen. Let me into the goddamn car. Now.”

The two of you have a stare down for a couple seconds before he finally gives in and unlocks the door. “You’re the worst in the group.”

“Oh, just wait until you hang out with my brother. Now, let’s go for a drive, shall we?”

–

The slight amusement you felt earlier quickly dissipates as Hopper explains everything going on. He explains El, who is really named Jane, and how he had found her mom and learned that some guy named Brenner was conducting experiments on her while she was pregnant. Thus, he created El and her powers and ultimately kidnapped her, leaving her mother to believe that she was dead. Now El has escaped, causing Will’s disappearance, and unfortunately some other horrible consequences.

Said consequences include driving to Nancy’s house because this Brenner guy apparently really wants El back and has gone as far as faking a twelve year old’s dead fucking body. Now he’s currently tracking her and the boys down.

Who knew Hawkins could have anything as exciting as a shady lab and actual men in black coats?

“Y/N, I need you to tell me everything you know about this girl,” Hopper demands, glaring at you from the rearview mirror as you sit between Nancy and Jonathan.

You do as you’re told, but admittedly there’s not much to tell him. Sure, you know El and have spent some time with her now, but other than that you’re still a bit lost yourself. The details are fuzzy in your mind, a picture has almost formed, but not quite.

As you’re struggling to explain more about the Upside Down to a very frustrated Hopper and a concerned Joyce, a parade of Hawkins Power and Light vans fly past the car and turn onto Nancy’s block. Once again, everyone in the car goes quiet.

“Neighborhood power outage?” You ask, really hoping you’re right, but worry is now creeping in. God, you really need to just stop leaving the kids alone after this week. Dustin was just supposed to see Mike, apologize to Lucas, and have a nice conversation about how friendship is magical and all that bullshit.

It doesn’t look like they did that.

Hopper suddenly jerks the car into a different neighborhood and speeds down the block. The speed scares you and Jonathan grabs your hand, sensing your growing unease. Then, the car brakes and you’re thrown forward by the momentum. “Fuck!”

“Sorry, honey.” Joyce murmurs to you, but the view in front of you catches your attention.

Hopper has brought you guys to an overlook of Nancy’s neighborhood with a perfect view of her house being surrounded by a bunch of expensive cars and men in suits carrying items out from her basement. You see one man holding a stack of your comics with one of Dustin’s old hats on top.

You want to throw up.

Nancy reacts no better than you do and immediately bolts out the car, Hopper and Joyce not far behind her. The man whips out a pair of binoculars and scopes out the scene while Nancy just stands there, stunned. She begins to speak to him, demanding to go into her house, but he doesn’t let her.

You’re left alone with Jonathan in the car and you feel your own panic begin to settle in. Seeing all the cars, the fucking helicopters, after your baby brother… You really, really want to throw up.

You feel yourself begin to spiral. You think about how you’d left Will alone to bike home and how, because of you, he never made it back. Instead he got taken by a monster that’s big enough to kill a fucking deer. Will, small and sweet Will, is gone because of your inability to keep those you love safe.

And now Dustin and the boys are facing the same fate, all because of your stupidity. You left them alone, again, after they’ve spent the entire week sneaking off and getting into trouble. You have no reason to be surprised by their actions. You’re not an idiot, you should’ve known better.

You should’ve known better than to listen to Jonathan about not taking Will home. You should’ve known better about letting the boys explore those woods the night you found El. You should’ve reported the missing girl, called the cops, anything else rather than help hide her.

But because of your stupid, stupid, need to take care of everyone around you, to please everyone no matter what it may cost you, you’re in a cop car as your brother is being hounded down by what appears to be the goddamn FBI.

This is all your fault.

Hopper is saying something to Nancy now, there’s a commotion outside the car door and you know you should go out there and help, but you can’t. Jonathan, seeing the argument outside as well, turns to tell you that he’ll go and help, but stops when sees how pale you’ve gotten and that your leg is bouncing wildly.

He’s known you for years; he knows what you look like right before you have a complete breakdown.

He grabs you and you find yourself engulfed within his chest. His hands come up to your hair and he runs his fingers through it in a way that’s always calmed you down. You find yourself beginning to cry at the tenderness.

“I’m here, bug.” Jonathan whispers the words with his chin tucked atop of your head. He runs a hand up and down your back, drawing small patterns to try and distract you. You don’t fucking deserve the kindness.

You tighten your arms around him, afraid that he’ll slip away just like everything else has. “This is all my fault.”

“You’re crazy if you think that.”

“I was… I was in over my head.” A few tears slip out and you don’t bother to wipe them away. Instead, you bury your head deeper into Jonathan’s chest, ashamed. “This entire time, I should’ve–I needed to be better and I–I wasn’t, bee.”

Your words slur together as more tears come, but Jonathan is able to understand you regardless. He slides a hand up and under your chin, gently coaxing your head up so that he can look you in the eye. “None of this is your fault. You hear me?”

“But–”

“No. Without you, those boys would probably be dead by now. Nancy and I included. You’re the glue holding everything together, you know more than anyone else involved.”

Jonathan’s eyes burn yours, he’s so sure of his words but you know they aren’t true. You pull away from him and try to collect yourself. “There’s an entire swat team ready to hurt my baby brother… I fucked up, Jonathan.”

“Still up for debate, but if you really feel that way, then I’ll help you fix it. It’s as simple as that.” Jonathan shrugs, saying the words so simply, without any doubt or hesitation. He has such confidence in you, and you know he shares the same thought that you do: together, the two of you can do anything.

You think about your birthday gift from Will, with you and Jonathan battling a dragon together with the boys, and the thought brings you comfort. Together, you and the boys will get through this one way or another. You’re sure of that much, at least.

Plus, you have El and Nancy now.

You wipe away a few more tears and manage a smile, now feeling a bit better “Thank you, bee.”

He smiles back at you and ruffles your hair. “Any time, bug.”

The moment between you is broken by Hopper throwing Nancy into the backseat, cruelly bringing you back to reality. The boys, they’re in danger. Hopper turns to face the three of you with a crazed look in his eyes. “Look, we need to find them before they do.”

“The kids?” You stupidly ask.

“No, we’re looking for Santa’s reindeer.” Hopper deadpans, which you honestly had coming. “Yes, the kids. Do you have any idea where they might have gone?”

“No, I don’t!” Nancy still looks shaken up and you and Jonathan don’t look much better.

“I need you to think.” Hopper presses.

Nancy lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked a lot. I mean… lately.”

“What about you, Y/N?” Joyce asks, her voice a bit more gentle than Hopper’s.

You wrack your brain for where the kids may have gone, but with all your exhaustion and overwhelming feelings, you can’t come up with anything. Your brain is fried. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Byers.”

“Is there any place that your guys’ parents don’t know about that they might go?”

You and Nancy look at each other for ideas, but you both end up drawing a blank and shake your heads at Joyce. She sighs, but seems to be more understanding. You really wish you could be of more use, but besides Mike’s house, the kids don’t really go anywhere except…

“The junkyard!” You exclaim, throwing yourself forward in your excitement.

“What?” Hopper asks, his interest now is on you.

“The boys went there yesterday with El, they had a fight and–”

Hopper cuts you off. “I don’t need the petty details, just tell me where this junkyard is.”

“I… can’t.” You deflate now, realizing that you have no idea how to access this damn random field in Hawkins. It’s not really an official junkyard, just an area with leftover cars and trash piled up over the years. The boys have never taken you there, it had been the one spot they’d kept all to themselves.

“You can’t?” The man questions, his usual annoyance with you is present once again.

Before an inevitable argument breaks out, Jonathan speaks up. “I don’t know what Y/N is talking about, but I think I know how to ask the kids.”

–

When you get to Jonathan’s to look for Will’s walkie, you’re a bit car sick from Hopper’s damn speeding. You get that this is an urgent matter, but holy shit you feel ill.

You, Jonathan, Joyce, and Nancy hop out the car and start heading towards Will’s room. Jonathan and Joyce guide the way and you’re right behind them until you see Nancy stop in the living room.

“Woah,” she breathes out, examining the room around her. You forget that she’s only been a part of your life for a few days now and hasn’t yet seen the state of chaos that is Jonathan’s house.

“Yeah, welcome to the Byers home.” You say, grabbing her hand to tug her along.

When you get to Will’s room, Jonathan is digging through his drawers while Joyce is on the floor searching underneath his bed. You immediately walk over to the closet and begin sifting through his numerous boxes of comics and drawings.

“I got it!” Joyce announces from under the bed and scrambles into the living room with the walkie in her hand.

You follow after her and sit next to her on the couch. Jonathan stands next to you while Nancy is on your right and Hopper is by the door. Joyce fiddles with the walkie. “Okay, now what?”

“I’ll talk to them.” Nancy says, but you shake your head at her.

“No offense, but I think they’ll respond to me better. I mean, they like me.” Hopper snorts across the room and you close your eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Nancy bites her lip but eventually nods, thankfully understanding what you meant. “Yeah, okay. You should go first, then. They’ve always listened to you more than me.”

Joyce hands you the walkie and you thank her. You look at Hopper and hold the walkie up. “Anything I should specifically say?”

“No, just find out where they are and we’ll go from there.” He commands.

You nod and take a deep breath, silently praying that the idiots will respond both for your own sanity and pride. Exhaling, you bring the walkie to your lips. “Dustin, it’s Y/N. Do you copy?”

Silence, no one responds on the other end and you feel everyone’s eyes on you. “They’re paranoid right now, okay?”

Joyce reassures you that it’s fine while Hopper groans, unimpressed. You silently curse Dustin, who would choose right now to embarrass you and not listen.

You take another deep breath and try again. “Hello? Earth to Dustin and co? Guys, it’s me and I really need you to respond. Immediately. I will start crying if I need to.”

Again, more silence follows. You want to scream and throw the walkie across the damn room, but you keep your composure and try one last time and square your shoulders. You’re aware of Jonathan and the others in the room with you, so you’re dreading having to say this, but you know it’s the only way to get them to respond. ”Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and possibly El: what you’re about to hear is private and so incredibly embarrassing but obviously I have to prove that I’m me so you idiots respond.”

Jonathan’s eyes widen. “You’re not really going to confess to–”

You shush him and keep talking. “Dustin, remember when mom told you that Mews peed on my bed and that’s why I had to stay in your room for the night last year? Well, surprise! It was me. I peed the bed because I had a nightmare after you made me watch Friday the 13th.”

Nancy makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh covered up by a cough and Joyce herself stifles a laugh. Hopper doesn’t even try to hide his laugh and you just really wish the ground would swallow you up. All Jonathan can do is offer you a pitying smile. This is fucking mortifying.

And yet: no one answers.

You let out a frustrated groan. “Listen to me! Either you answer or I have a very annoyed and rude Hopper who would be more than glad to interrogate you boys himself. This is your last chance–”

“Ya know, you really should’ve just used Hopper as a threat from the start. We would’ve listened.” Mike’s voice comes through the walkie, causing you to sigh out with relief.

“Yeah, now we know you peed your pants at fifteen.” Lucas adds.

Then Dustin’s voice carries through. “I’m ashamed to be related to you, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Dustin. You’ve always had my back.”

Hopper takes the walkie from you and heads towards his car while demanding directions from Mike. He leaves without saying another word to everyone else, simply leaving you with Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan to wait for his return with the kids.

You wring your hands together, unsure what to do in this situation. So, you do what’s familiar to you; you take care of those around you. “Mrs. Byers, do you still have my baking supplies here?”

–

Steve was having a rough week.

It started with finding you crying in the middle of the road while you were on your bike. At first, he hadn’t been sure it was you, but as you had biked closer and almost hit him, he knew then that you were indeed Y/N Henderson. When you swerved into a ditch to avoid hitting him, Steve did what any rational person would do.

He helped you.

You had been hesitant of him at first, nervous and guarded and Steve couldn’t blame you. Up until then, the two of you hadn’t had the best interactions. He’d always seen you around in the hallways at school, knew about your obsession with comics and Spider-man, and he knew how kind you could be and had witnessed first hand how devoted you were to helping anyone you could, regardless of who they were.

When Steve was in eighth grade and you were in seventh, Carol had bled through her pants and Tommy had been laughing at her and calling her disgusting. Steve hadn’t been much better, honestly, the two of them had reacted how any other idiotic thirteen year olds would. When Carol started to cry, Steve finally felt bad and told Tommy to knock it off and help his girlfriend. It started a whole argument between the two of them, but as they were bickering you swooped in and offered to escort Carol to the bathroom.

He had watched as you delicately took the girl’s hand and said something soft and kind to her as you guys walked to the bathroom. A lanky boy, who had been with you, told you he’d wait by your bike while you were with Carol. You thanked him and then you were gone, the door to the girl’s bathroom closing behind you.

“Who was she?” Steve remembers asking Tommy. He’d been curious about you and your actions, because not even ten minutes before Carol had bled through her pants, she had been making fun of your scuffed sneakers in the lunchroom. She’d been especially viscous back then, and yet you hadn’t hesitated to help her.

“Y/N Henderson. She’s new, moved here a few weeks ago.”

Steve had kept watching the bathroom door, hoping to catch another glimpse of you. “And the boy?”

“Jonathan Byers.” Tommy snickered. “Poor family, complete nobodies. Guess Henderson likes a pity project.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” The door still hadn’t opened, so Steve sighed and motioned to Tommy to follow him. “C’mon, my mom hates waiting for us.”

So, yeah. Your very first interaction with Steve had been you watching him make fun of a poor girl experiencing her first ever period.

Not a very good first impression.

Ever since then, Steve had kept an eye on you. Maybe not consciously, but you’d always been in his peripheral. He’d seen all the times you helped someone, from teachers to the local stoner kid, Eddie Munson, who needed a pen for his exam so you’d given him your only one and ultimately couldn’t take your own exam. Steve had always wanted to ask if you regretted that, but he was sure you’d say no. It’s just what you did.

He watched as you and Byers grew closer, almost inseparable, and Steve decided that eventually the two of you would get together and live happily ever after. When your hair grew a bit longer and your scuffed sneakers turned into pretty mary janes, Steve figured it’d happen in no time.

Then Will disappeared and Steve had found you crying in a ditch after almost hitting his car with your bike, and everything seemed to change. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but he knew he wanted to make you smile. He’d never been alone with you before and he felt bad about Will; he knew how close you were with him, so he cracked a few jokes, pretended not to know who you were, and then you smiled at him for the very first time.

A real, true, beautiful smile that had left Steve breathless for a moment.

God, then you laughed and Steve swore he’d never heard something more genuine and pure. He had felt like a little kid on Christmas day, giddy over the fact that he had made you laugh at his stupid joke.

Immediately Steve was addicted. He vowed then and there to do whatever he could to help you, to get you to laugh and smile and flash him that annoyed look that seemed to make your eyes reflect everything good and lovely.

So he did.

Steve had helped you out of the ditch and watched as you biked away, lingering until he was sure you’d be safe. He had invited you to his house for a party, figuring that maybe you’d enjoy a distraction from life. Sure, you had rebuffed him pretty harshly, but he had deserved it. He had been an ass to Byers.

But then Byers had taken pictures of his naked girlfriend and Steve’s world had felt like it’d been flipped upside down. How dare he? Byers was yours, everyone knew that. Hell, the entirety of Hawkins knew that. Why the fuck would he need to take pictures of Nancy, his Nancy, when he already had you? Not only was it creepy and invasive, but it was a major offense to someone as selfless as you.

Logically, Steve had to retaliate, it just wasn’t okay. He had told Tommy the plan and then before he knew it he ended up waiting by Byers’ car to confront him, and then alongside him had been you. Of course you’d been with him. Steve should’ve expected that.

He hadn’t wanted for you to get dragged into it so aggressively, but he also had to tell you the truth. Steve knew there was no way in hell that Byers had told you about the photos, so he had to be the one to break the news before anyone else could. It had killed him to see you so upset.

When Tommy threw you onto the ground, all Steve felt was rage. You weren’t supposed to be the one getting hurt, and yet somehow you were. It enraged him that he couldn’t do more to help, but before he knew it you were on the ground and he had rushed over to help.

He doesn’t remember much else that had happened next, but when your back pressed against his chest to avoid Byers, Steve had felt his heart flutter a bit. Again, he had felt like a little kid on Christmas day, giddy and excited and warm. You had needed him at that moment, so Steve helped.

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.” He had placed his hand on your shoulder, a risky move he had been afraid would scare you away, but you stayed; you had been warm underneath his touch.

Steve hadn’t meant to break the camera, honest. It just kind of happened, his brain had been muddled by your presence. He felt bad about it, but Tommy had whooped all impressed and Carol had encouraged him on, so he had to pretend that it hadn’t bothered him.

But it had.

It had really, really bothered Steve.

He just wanted to help, to defend you, and yet he had gone too far. And he had felt awful about it.

So, when he had spotted you once again biking on the road, struggling up a massive hill the next day, Steve had figured that this was his chance to make it up to you. He thought that if he had offered you a ride, the two of you could talk. When you accepted, Steve had happily thrown your bike in the back and felt so fucking relieved. There was still a chance.

Then the two of you engaged in the banter that made Steve feel so alive and he knew that it’d all be okay, it had to be. He had teased you, gotten you to blush and laugh once more, and Steve felt like he was on top of the world being able to offer you some type of relief from the news of Will’s death. He had helped you, if even for a little while.

Somehow he had ended up confessing to you that he had been trying to make you laugh a few days prior, having pretended not to know your name. “Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And voila, I did.”

He’ll always remember the shocked expression on your face, the way your eyes softened for a moment with vulnerability and Steve had found himself wanting to lean in closer to see if he could make you blush an even prettier red. He had refrained, though (barely).

But his good mood vanished when you had berated him about breaking Byers’ camera, which he had to admit was a selfish move on his end. He had already felt bad about it, but to hear you remind him that Byers didn’t have the money that Steve did, it hurt in a way he hadn’t been familiar with.

And yet, like you always seem to do to Steve, you had completely turned his mood around with only a few words.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Your words had hit Steve harder than he would've ever thought possible. No one had ever told him that, not even his mother who always insisted on calling him her beautiful boy. Everyone always called Steve various names such as King Steve, the King, Steve “the hair” Harrington, and every possible way to complement his appearance, but no one had ever told him he was a good person.

You had called him “alright”, and those words had been on his mind for the rest of the day, creating a new warmth in his chest every time he thought them. You, Y/N Henderson, had thought Steve was “alright.”

It felt like he had won the goddamn lottery.

Until Nancy started acting weird and ditching plans with him for some mysterious “project”, which sucked. He hadn’t been sure what he did, but he was sure he’d done something to offend the girl. He always managed to do something to hurt those closest to him.

Imagine his surprise when he had driven to Nancy’s and spotted you, glowing in the moonlight and lovely as ever, looking for the girl as well. Pretty fucking convenient, huh? Something was up, Steve could feel it.

And boy, was he right.

There Byers had been, his arm draped over his girlfriend, sitting side by side in her bed without a singular care for the people they were hurting in the process. Typical.

Again Steve had felt that anger deep within him, the same anger from when he saw those pictures of Nancy, because how dare Byers? There you had been, standing underneath Steve, worried about Nancy because you’re the best damn person he’s ever met, and yet Byers had been abusing your kindness and trust for his own gain.

No.

Steve was livid.

“You deserve better, Y/N.” He regrets yelling at you and pushing you away, but Steve had been so overwhelmed with his anger. You deserved everything and more, why couldn’t anyone else see that? Why was Steve the only one who could see this?

Hell, anyone could hurt Steve. He wouldn’t care, he always deserved it in the end. He wasn’t nice or good or worth kindness, but you? Hurting someone like you, someone as selfless and wonderful and genuine, was goddamn unacceptable.

Steve did the only thing he knew: he had to hurt Byers and Nancy for hurting you.

So he did.

And fuck, Steve really wished that he hadn’t, because now he’s standing underneath the Hawk’s sign with a black eye and a bleeding lip and really wishing that you were here to remind him that he’s a good person.

He also really hopes that you still believe this.

Steve had only been trying to help you, to get you to see your own worth and recognize how much of an ass Byers and Nancy were to you. But you had run away, back to that asshole, and Steve had been left to clean up his own mess.

“Need a hand?” Steve calls up to Byers’ boss, who is on a ladder trying to scrub off the cruel spray painted taunts of Nancy.

The man looks down at Steve, his face twisting into a sneer. “Did you have something to do with this?”

Steve sighs, “I just… I wanna help.”

Maybe it’s his black eye or the pathetic way Steve says he wants to help, but the man comes down the ladder and hands him the dirty rag he had been using. “All yours.”

Steve takes his jacket off and accepts the rag and climbs up, ready to get to work. He really does want to help, he has been trying to help.

And Steve just really hopes that you can see his efforts someday, maybe even soon.

He’s had a really rough week.

–

The cookies only take you thirty minutes to make, which is way before Hopper is expected to be back with the kids, so you awkwardly hand out a plate of them to Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy before sitting in between the teens and pulling out a comic.

Nancy hesitantly takes a bite, but her uncertainty melts into bliss. “Oh my god, these are delicious.”

“Y/N makes the best oatmeal raisin cookies, they’re insane.” Jonathan says with a mouthful of his own cookies.

“Thanks,” you say, flicking through the pages of your comic and trying to remember where you last left off. You keep an assortment of comics between Jonathan’s house and Nancy’s basement just in case you’re ever left with a need for one. Thankfully you’ve always planned ahead, because this latest issue of Spidey keeps you distracted as you wait for Hopper and the kids.

You’re doing your best to keep your anxiety at bay, but it’s hard. Baking has always calmed you, though tonight you’re still left feeling jittery. You’ve never been a patient person.

No one speaks as you wait, the clock on the Byers’ wall ticks away at a maddeningly slow pace. You try to focus on your comic, but it’s useless. Eventually you give up and flop your head onto Jonathan’s shoulder, frustrated and anxious.

The second you hear Hopper’s car pull into the driveway you sprint off the couch and run straight towards Dustin. He’s in your arms before he’s even had a chance to fully get out of the car. “Geesh, Y/N!”

You ignore his complaining and hold onto him tightly. He’s alive and safe and whole. Thank god.

Nancy does the same with Mike. “I was so worried about you!”

“Yeah, uh… me too?” Her brother mumbles back.

You snort at him and reluctantly pull away from Dustin to only then pull Lucas into a hug, which he hadn’t been expecting. You squeeze the other boy tight. “Where the hell did you guys run off to this time?”

Before they can explain, you see Nancy eyeing El and you immediately rush over to the girl and engulf her into a hug as well. You haven’t seen her in ages, you’ve missed her and she looks a mess. “El! God, look at you!”

“Is that my dress?” Nancy asks.

You inspect El’s dress and realize that yes, it is indeed an old dress of Nancy’s. You raise an eyebrow at the boys, silently asking for an explanation.

Dustin smiles and gives you a thumbs up. “Who’s ready for an update?”

–

All you’ve managed to learn tonight is that Will is the only one in the group with any artistic abilities.

Mike has drawn a horrible recreation of what Mr. Clark had explained to them at the funeral a few days ago, the whole tale about the flea and the acrobat. While the boy is explaining the situation to everyone else, all you do is wonder how the hell he couldn’t even draw a straight line.

“Okay, so in this example, we're the acrobat. Will and Barbara, and that monster, they’re this flea.” Mike points to below the line he’s so poorly drawn. “And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding.”

You’re sitting in between Jonathan and Joyce on the couch and notice their confused faces, causing you to sigh. “Oh, just wait.”

Mike glares at you but continues with his explanation. “Mr. Clark said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space.”

“A gate.” Dustin adds.

“That we tracked to Hawkins Lab.” Lucas then finishes.

“Don’t forget the compasses.” You mumble, trying your best not to butt in too much. You’re not really sure how much you should disclose about the fact that you’ve been in on the boy’s adventure without informing the literal cop who is in the room.

Hopper, who is seated across from you, narrows his eyes at you.

Yeah. Best not to push it.

“Right, the compasses.” Dustin leans in closer to everyone to make sure they understand what he’s about to say. “The gate has a really strong electromagnetic field, and that can change the directions of a compass needle.”

“Is this gate underground?” Hopper now speaks up, though his eyes are still on you. El softly responds with a “yes” and the man doesn’t look too happy.

“Near a large water tank?”

“Yes,” El says softly again.

“You’ve been there.” You conclude, now holding onto Hopper’s gaze. Seems like you weren’t the only person keeping secrets, then.

Hopper doesn’t break eye contact. “Yes, I have. And you’ve been playing double agent.”

You shrug. “Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

“You should’ve told the police, kid.”

“Like you would’ve believed me.”

“You let these kids run off on their own, does it really matter what I would’ve believed if I had known they’d be in danger?”

You can feel your anger beginning to resurface. You’ll never admit it to anyone, but Hopper manages to bring out an anger within you that only your father could do before. Facing him, you feel like a ten year old again screaming against her father. “I did what I could! I’d never intentionally bring them harm. Don’t ever imply otherwise again.”

“Y/N, Hopper, now isn’t the time.” Joyce interrupts, her face ashen. You feel your anger drain from you as it’s replaced with guilt. She’s right, now isn’t the time for petty arguments with a cop who has a weird vendetta against you.

Joyce then turns to El, her voice shaky and you grab her hand as she speaks. “Is there any way that you could… that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this–”

“The Upside Down.” El finishes for her and then gives her own response as a nod.

You notice Nancy nervously picking at her fingers, so you ask El your own question. “What about Barb? Do you think you can find her, honey?”

Nancy gives you a smile and mouths “thank you”; you nod your head at her, understanding.

Again, El nods and you let out a breath of relief. For the first time in days, it feels like you finally have a solid and functional plan. Things are finally starting to all come together and now it isn’t just you who has to glue the pieces down. You have help.

After the conversation you help set up everything El needs to contact Barb and Will. You help Nancy tear a picture of Barb and lay it on the table alongside a picture of Will. Mike has switched his walkie into static and the white noise seems to help the girl focus.

All of you crowd around El at the table, not saying a word. Joyce is seated while you and Jonathan stand behind her, each of you have a hand on her shoulder and she holds onto you both like her life depends on it.

You find yourself holding your breath as El closes her eyes and begins her process of contacting Will. You’re terrified that maybe this time she won’t find him, or worse… She’ll find him, but he’ll be long gone already. You’ve already come so fucking close, you’re worried that your luck will run out soon.

Static fills the air and the lights start to flicker. El opens her eyes; her face falls with despair and you immediately know that something has gone wrong before she even whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Joyce’s hand tightens around yours. “What? W–What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

El begins to cry and her voice breaks. “I can’t find them.

“Shh, it’s okay, honey.” You’re at the girl’s side in a heartbeat, crouched down so that you can look her in the eye as you try to soothe her. “Hey, look at me. You tried your best, it’s okay. I’m right here, my dear.”

While you comfort El, Jonathan comforts his mother. The two of you share a quick glance and through it you’re both able to convey the same message: I’ve got her, take care of the other. Without any other word, you gently guide El to the bathroom and tell her to take some time to herself and that you’ll be there for her when she’s ready.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, tears still in her eyes.

“Of course. Take all the time you need. None of this is your fault, okay? I need you to understand that.”

El nods before she closes the door, but you know she doesn’t believe you. You guess this is how Jonathan had felt earlier in the car when you confessed that everything was your fault and he’d tried reassuring you that it wasn’t. It isn’t easy convincing someone that they haven’t done anything wrong, not when they truly believe that they have.

You hear the faucet running in the bathroom, so you walk over towards the living room to check in on the others. Mike is explaining El’s powers when you catch the tail end of their conversation.

“Like, she flipped a van earlier.”

“El flipped a van?” You ask, staring at the boys in shock.

They all smile at you and Dustin eagerly shakes his head. “Yeah, it was awesome.”

“I left you alone for five hours, Dustin.”

“That was your first mistake.”

Now Mike butts in. “I also jumped off a cliff and El caught me midair with her powers.”

Your jaw drops. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Shut up, Mike.” Lucas nudges him with his shoulder. “What we’re saying is, she’s drained.”

“Like a dead battery.” Dustin confirms.

Joyce looks around helplessly. You know she’s doing everything she can to follow along. “Well… how do we make her better?”

“We don’t.” You say, having known El long enough to notice the limitations to her powers. As far as you’re aware, the only way for her to regenerate her strength is through rest. But who knows, maybe during those five hours you left the kids alone they somehow found a magical crystal that heals El.

Mike nods at you. “Y/N’s right, we don’t. We just have to wait and try again.”

“Well, how long?” Nancy is seated next to Joyce and she looks just as overwhelmed as the woman. Had you not had some time before this with El and the kids, you’d be equally as confused as them.

“I don’t know.” Her brother responds, head ducked in shame.

Suddenly El appears. “The bath.”

You run back over to her side and crouch down once more. “Hey, I told you to tell me when you were ready to come out. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” she smiles at you, and though she looks exhausted, you know it’s a genuine smile. “I can find them. In the bath.”

“The bath?” You ask, and later you’ll regret doing this.

–

Dustin is the one who thinks of calling Mr. Clark, though you’re a bit skeptical of the idea.

“It’s late, what if he’s busy?”

Your brother laughs at the idea. “Sure, Mr. Clark will be busy and you’ll have a hot date waiting for you tonight.”

“Dude, harsh.”

He waves you off and dials the teacher’s number and you’re choosing to ignore the fact that it’s inappropriate for Dustin to even have the man’s number. You stand next to him as he takes the call, ready to intervene if needed.

“Mr. Clark? It’s Dustin… Yeah, yeah, I just… I–I have a science question.”

You drop your face into your hands and sigh with disappointment. Smooth, real smooth, Dustin.

“Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks?” Dustin’s eyes widen and he quickly looks over at you, covering the phone so that he can frantically whisper, “he asked why!”

“Why are you looking at me?” You whisper back, equally at a loss for what to tell the man.

“You’re no help!” Your brother whispers back, rolling his eyes at you before returning to the phone. “Sorry, technical difficulties. Anyways, we need to know for… fun.”

Again you facepalm and Jonathan, who is standing behind you, rubs your shoulders to relieve some of your stress. You relax against him and remind yourself to calm down. Dustin can handle this, he’s always been better at this stuff than you have; he was practically made for this life of lying and mischief. You were made for cookies and comics.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line and you can faintly hear Mr. Clark ask to talk about the topic later, preferably after a school day, but Dustin insists. “You always say we should never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door we find… Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”

The demanding tone causes you to stifle a laugh and you feel Jonathan doing the same. Yeah. Dustin was made for this.

Mr. Clark and your brother discuss the details of the tank for a while so you wander over towards the table and sit down. You hand Dustin a piece of paper and a pencil so that he can write down important information and flick through a comic as you wait.

As soon as he hangs up, Dustin throws the phone down and turns towards Joyce. “Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in?”

“A kiddie pool?” You ask at the same time Joyce responds, “Yeah, I think so?”

“Good. Then we just need salt. Lots of it.”

“I’m sorry, salt?”

You’re ignored once again as Hopper asks how much salt is needed. Dustin looks down at his notes and bites his lip. “1,500 pounds.”

“What the fuck…” You mutter under your breath, completely exasperated by the entire situation. A kiddie pool and 1,500 fucking pounds of salt? No. This is where you draw the line. You can handle monsters and alternate dimensions, but a kiddie pool full of salt to create a sensory deprivation tank is just too much. It’s your breaking point. “My life isn’t real.”

–

Somehow, amidst the diverging of groups to tackle everything needed to make El’s tank, you end up with Nancy in the shed at Hawkins Middle. You’re really not sure how it happened but one minute you were with Jonathan and Joyce, the next you’re in a shed with the girl you have very conflicted feelings over.

Mike is standing outside the door while you and Nancy struggle to grab the hoses from the shelf. The things are surprisingly heavy so it takes the two of you to get them down. You grunt as you throw a third one down into a barrel. “God, what do these things eat?”

Nancy chuckles. “No clue, but I’m sure Jonathan and Hopper are having a better time with all those salt bags.”

“Touche.” Then both of you are quiet again as you continue working.

“So… what’s up with you and Jonathan?” Nancy suddenly asks, which causes you to drop the hose you’d been holding.

“Shit!” You bend down to pick it back up, though you also do it to try and compose yourself because what the fuck. “And nothing. There’s nothing going on between us.”

Nancy frowns. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m intruding or anything.”

“Intruding?”

“I mean… shit, I don’t know how to word this.” She fumbles with her own hose. “I just– I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about.”

You know she means well, but Nancy’s words only upset you for a multitude of reasons. “Nancy, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but why does it matter?”

“Why does what matter?”

“How I feel about Jonathan. I mean, you’re with Steve. He’s your boyfriend, there shouldn’t be any reason for me to worry about you and my best friend.”

Nancy looks down at the ground. “You’re right, but it’s not like that. Nothing happened between Jonathan and I last night. I promise, I know he’s yours and–”

“You know, I’m really fucking sick of everyone trying to tell me what Jonathan and I are.” You spit out.

Nancy flinches. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just focus on the task at hand, okay?” The girl nods and places the last hose into the barrel, but there’s something that’s been on the back of your mind for a while. “Look, I know you mean well and I’m sorry for being so mean, but… Cheating is something I can’t get behind.”

“I’d never cheat–”

“I know, but a word of advice? Figure out your own feelings before you hurt those closest to you.” Nancy’s frown deepens and you sigh. “Don’t tell him I said this, but even though Steve can be an asshole, he’s still a good guy. He’s already really hurt over seeing you with Jonathan. I just… I don’t want to see him get hurt again, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot for him.” Nancy says, a hint of something else within her voice.

“Believe me, I don’t, but it sucks knowing that the person you love may love someone else.”

“Woah, I don’t think he loves me–”

“Maybe not yet, but he’s starting to. So again, I urge you to figure out what you want before more people get hurt. Jonathan included. He’s my best friend, Nancy.” You take a deep breath and will yourself to be vulnerable. “Regardless of whatever I may feel for him, he deserves to be happy. You need to figure out your feelings before you’re in too deep. Okay? He’s been through enough to last a lifetime and he’s the best damn guy in this hellhole of a town.”

Nancy swallows and for a moment you think she’s going to refute you, but instead she straightens her posture and gives you a curt nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You finish up in the shed in silence. Once you’re done you wheel the barrel out and motion for Mike to follow. “Here, can you take this? I’m going to go check on Dustin.”

Mike makes a face. “I mean, I guess, but–”

You quickly hand the kid the barrel and run back inside the school. You’re a shaking mess from your conversation with Nancy and you need to get away from her as quickly as possible. The conversation replays over and over in your head and each time it’s like a punch. Were you too harsh? Have you revealed too much to her?

Whatever, you don’t have time to dwell on it.

You run back into the school and slam the door behind you.

–

It takes a while to set everything up within the gym. You help Mike hold the hoses as Jonathan and Nancy turn the water on. Lucas holds a thermometer and monitors the water’s temperature and when it’s time, you use your new switchblade to tear open the bags of salt alongside Jonathan and Hopper. Every five bags or so, Dustin drops an egg into the pool to check the buoyancy.

It’s a team effort, but eventually the eggs begin to float and you breathe out with relief. One task down, a million more to go.

Mike switches on the walkie and you help El put on her tapped goggles. Once everything is ready, you hold her hand as she carefully steps into the water. When she’s fully in, you step away and sit down between Jonathan and Nancy, a position you somehow always find yourself in.

As soon as El begins to float in the water, the lights start to flicker before completely shutting off. You feel the static that always seems to accompany her powers. No one moves, too scared to break El out of her concentration.

You wait for a few minutes, uneasy. You’ve never actually seen El’s power in action besides when she made your comic book fly up in the air, so you’re unsure what to do while you wait. Then, faintly, El mumbles, “Barbara.”

Nancy jolts to life and leans in closer to the girl. The lights flicker once more but this time you see El’s body tremble with fear.

“What’s going on?” Nancy asks you.

“I don’t know. I think… I think she’s scared.”

“Scared? I–” Nancy leans even closer to El now. “Is Barb okay? Is she okay?”

You pull Nancy back, not wanting to overwhelm El, but it’s too late. The poor girl trembles even more and repeatedly mumbles “gone” until her voice raises and she begins to cry out. Nancy starts to cry and you motion for Joyce to hold El while you handle Nancy.

Joyce reaches over to comfort the girl and you pull Nancy into your arms as she cries. “I’m so sorry, Nancy.”

She cries harder and you tighten your arms around her. All your anger towards the girl from your conversation from earlier has faded. Barb, Nancy’s dearest friend, is gone. You can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now. If you ever lost Jonathan… God, a piece of you would die.

Eventually Nancy manages to calm down and pulls away with a soft “thank you”, but you keep your hand around hers as you pay attention again. You know she’s embarrassed about her reaction, but you don’t blame her for a second. Later, after all of this, you’ll make sure to check up on her.

“Will?”

You hear Jonathan gasp next to you and he grasps at your free hand. You sit there in shock and feel your heart swell. Tears lump in your throat at the confirmation of Will being alive. Will, beautiful and sweet Will, is alive.

You squeeze Jonathan’s hand and the two of you look at each other. There’s tears in his eyes as well and you both let out a slight chuckle of disbelief. After this horrible week, everything that you’ve been through together to find Will, finding out that he’s alive by each other’s side only seems fitting.

“Tell him… Tell him I’m coming. Mom is coming.” Joyce instructs El, strength returning to her voice.

The walkie sparks to life with Will’s voice. “Hurry.”

You choke back a sob. “Little bee,”

Jonathan squeezes your hand again and you rest your head against his shoulder, completely sagging with relief. He’s here. He’s real and he’s alive and he’ll be in your arms once again soon.

“Okay, listen. You tell him to… To stay where he is.” Joyce is speaking with an urgency now as she hovers over El. “We’re coming. We’re coming, okay? We’re coming, honey.”

The sweet moment is ruined by the walkie’s intense static. El quickly sits up and tears her goggles off and begins to panic. She flings herself into Joyce’s embrace and you hurry over to console her as well. She’s just a little girl, she’s been through so much for someone so young.

You kiss her forehead the way Jonathan always does to you. “You did so well, El. I’m so, so proud of you. You’re incredible, okay? We’ve got you, you’re safe with us.”

Joyce echoes your words and the two of you hold tightly onto El as she cries. You look over at Nancy, who is staring off into space with her own despair in her eyes, and you feel such an intense wave of hurt hit you. You’re all so young. The kids are all huddled together in shock. None of this is fucking fair.

–

You opt to stay behind with the kids on the bleachers as Jonathan, Joyce, and Hopper discuss what to do next. Nancy has walked away, presumably to grieve, so you give her the same she desires.

El shivers, so you tighten the towel around her. Lucas rubs her arms to try and warm her up as well, something that brings a faint smile to your face. You guess the two of them sorted out their differences, then. Good. El needs more friends like Lucas in her life if she’s going to continue hanging around Dustin and Mike. They’re insensible, but Lucas isn’t so bad.

Dustin’s stomach rumbles and he lets out a sheepish laugh. “Sorry, ignore that.”

“Oh!” You gasp, suddenly remembering the cookies you packed in your bag. You had grabbed them before leaving Jonathan’s, figuring the kids hadn’t eaten all day. “Here, made these fresh today. You all get three, that’s it.”

The boys fight over who gets one first and you leave them to sort it out themselves. You roll your eyes at them; they’re such heathens. You focus your attention back to El, who remains pressed against your side. “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,”

“Hmm, I think I can understand why.” You grab a cookie while the boys aren’t looking and offer one to El. “Have you ever had an oatmeal raisin cookie?”

She shakes her head.

“Ah, well then you’re in for a treat. You see, I’m kinda known for my cookies. Everyone loves them, see?” You point towards the boys, who are about to start throwing punches over the biggest piece, and El giggles.

Your heart brightens at the sound. “Here you go, try it.”

She accepts the cookie and takes a tiny bite. As she chews, her eyes lighten and she lets out a quiet “yum”.

“‘Yum’ indeed.” You agree with a smile.

Eventually the kids settle down and eat their own cookies in silence. You figure that the events from today have finally caught up to them, so you eat your own cookies in peace. You’re content to sit with them for a bit, relieved to have all your boys with you safe and sound. You’ve missed them.

Once you’re done eating, you wipe your hands off and gently nudge El aside. “Sorry, honey. I should go check on Jonathan. I’ll be back in a sec.”

She nods at you and moves so that you’re able to get up.

“Where you going?” Dustin asks with his mouth full.

You make a face at him. “Dude, don’t talk with your mouth full. You know mom hates that.”

He sticks his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes. “I’m going to go find Jonathan. Make sure no one leaves, alright?”

Your brother salutes you and you salute back before heading towards the gym doors. You’re about to open the doors, but then you see Jonathan sitting with Nancy against the wall through the glass panel.

You freeze, unsure if you should interrupt them. They seem to be deep in a private conversation, Nancy’s face is twisted with so many emotions you feel almost guilty for looking in. Like you’re intruding on something.

Then again, it always feels like you’re intruding when you’re with them lately.

Is this really what you want?

Your hand hovers over the door handle and for a moment you think you’ll pull it open, but you don’t. Instead, you turn around and walk back over to the kids. You’re not sure what you’re feeling as you walk over, but when Dustin sees you he seems to notice a change in your demeanor.

He frowns at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” You say numbly, sitting down next to him. Your shoulders are stiff, your leg is bouncing up and down.

Dustin looks over towards where you came from and he seems to freeze as well. He looks between you, then Jonathan and Nancy in the hallway, and he exhales. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

You think your brother will leave the topic at that, but he surprises you. He grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. You look up and see that he’s smiling at you and your heart breaks all over again for an entirely different reason. You look around at Lucas and Mike, who are bickering over the cookies, at El who watches in amusement, and then finally at Dustin who is holding your hand and offering you whatever comfort he can provide you.

Dustin knows you as well as you know him, he can sense a shift in your mood before you even can. He’s here with you, holding your hand because the boy you love has broken your heart once again, and Dustin is doing this without you having to tell him. He just knows, and you love him all the more for it.

You’re surrounded by so much love it takes your breath away for a moment.

You squeeze Dustin’s hand back, so immensely grateful that he’s your brother. “I love you, kid.”

He smiles that wonderful toothless smile that you’ve loved since he was a baby. “I love ya too, sis.”

“Are you two done? Can I ask Y/N for more cookies now?” Mike calls over, though his voice is kinder than usual. You guess that even he has noticed your mood change but doesn’t want to pry.

You wipe your eyes quickly and stand up. “So demanding. Let me check my bag, but I doubt it.”

“I’m your favorite, let’s be honest here.” He responds, trying to get you to laugh.

It works. “Sure, buddy.”

You walk over to your bag and rustle around, but you know there’s none left. You’re just thankful for the distraction, and you have a sneaking suspicion that this had been Mike’s plan all along. You look up and see him staring at you with a concerned look in his eyes and your heart swells even more.

You’re so surrounded by love; sometimes it feels like you’re even drowning in it.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla

[cannibalizedyke]

Drunken Confessions

Part Two: Sober Revelations

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, drunkenness

Summary: You drunkenly tell Eddie that you're in love with him.

General Taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1

Moots: @spidervee @iheardarumorthings @thewritingbabe @scandalous-chaos @ddejavvu @winterwisteria @abibliophobiaa

“Why are we here?” Eddie groaned, arm slung around your shoulder as you squeezed your way through a crowd of drunk teens.

“To have fun!” You laughed, pulling him over and grabbing two shot glasses off of a tray. “To drink, and dance, and be normal teenagers for once.”

“I don’t want to be a normal teenager,” Eddie pointed out as he downed the liquor. “I want to be a freak, and wear old ripped band t-shirts and listen to rock music and play Dungeons and Dragons.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ed, that is normal teenager stuff. And so is going to parties. Stop trying to fit into the stereotype everyone’s branded you with.”

Eddie gaped, but you didn’t notice, too busy pulling him into the crowd and grabbing both of his hands.

“Dance with me!” you shouted over the blaring music.

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately shoved it down. You were his best friend. Best friends danced. Best friends went to parties together. There was nothing romantic about this. You didn’t love him the way he loved you. He shoved on a mask of composure and rolled his eyes, grinning. “Whatever, Bubbles.”

You made a face at his childhood nickname for you. “Gods, Eddie, we’re not kids anymore.”

“Yeah, but you’re still the same bubbly (Y/N) you’ve always been, Bubs.” Eddie twirled you around and you giggled.

“I want a drink. You?”

Eddie nodded and followed you over to a cooler full of beer cans. You handed him one and downed yours in one gulp.

Eddie sputtered a laugh. “Easy there, Bubs. Don’t wanna get too smashed, do ya?”

“That’s the whole point!” you yelled, laughing.

Eddie shook his head. “I told you I didn’t want to be the sober driver!”

You stuck your tongue out at him, smiling mischievously. “Too bad!”

Eddie tossed his can back into the cooler and let you pull him back into the crowd. You apparently had an extremely low alcohol tolerance; you were already tired and stumbly, giggling and leaning against Eddie for support.

“Whoa, there.” He steadied you. “You all right?”

“Uh-huh…” you told him, words slurred. You were somehow already smashed.

“Yeah, no, Bubs, we’re going outside.”

“I don’t want to,” you moaned, too weak for your attempts to pull him back to be successful.

He hoisted you into his arms and carried you away from the loud crowd and into the secluded, peaceful quiet of the outdoors. You leaned against him, grabbing his hand and causing goosebumps to run up his arms.

“You’re pretty,” you murmured, eyes falling shut.

Eddie laughed nervously. “Yeah, you too, Bubbles.”

“Can I tell you something?” You yawned.

“Yeah, of course.” He stared ahead, scared of what seeing you so vulnerable would do to him.

“I love you, Eddie.”

He stiffened, then laughed nervously again. “Yeah, Bubs, I love you too.”

“No, no!” You sat up, adorably frustrated. “I love you. Like love love. I wanna hold you and kiss you and write you love letters and stuff.”

Eddie couldn’t speak. She’s drunk, he told himself. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. But drunken words were sober thoughts, weren’t they?

“Do you, Bubs?” he managed, hoarse.

“Yeah.” You leaned back against him. “Loved you since we met, Eddie.”

He inhaled sharply. “Let’s get you home.”

You hummed and let him lead you to his car. “Take me to your house, please. Don’t want Dad to know I was drinking.”

Eddie swallowed, and forced a laugh. “Being the police chief’s daughter got some drawbacks, huh?”

“Mhm.” You were falling asleep. He hated how adorable you looked when you were falling asleep.

Eddie drove home in silence, occasionally looking over at your sleeping form. He carried you inside, unwilling to wake you, and warned his uncle not to make a sound as he entered. He laid you in his bed and collapsed beside you, mind reeling. He turned to you, gaze softening at the sight of your soft, deep breathing and splayed out limbs. “I love you too,” he whispered, and turned off the light.

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

Part 8: Warm Hands, Frozen Hearts

vampire!eddie x supernatural!reader

masterlist playlist

18+Only, werewolf!steve, allusions to smut, allusions to devious deeds, mention of addiction, mention of drinking blood, angst, waitress!erica, Bob Newby lives, Chief Hopper sighting, as well as another glimpse of vampire!max.

summary: you go on your "just friends" date with werewolf!steve, but meanwhile, Eddie makes a bold decision and things heat up between the two of you. Jareth's interest in you grows stronger, as does his determination to find out exactly who/what you are as everything begins to come to a head.

word count: 4.8k

author's note: for the sake of this story, Jareth is meant to be a cross between Jamie Campbell Bower and Eric Northman from True Blood. As a little reminder, The Upside Down exists in this story, but not the same way it does in ST. All of the ST characters in this do not know each other in the same way they do in the show. But, Steve and Robin are friends, because, well, always.

Fanger: derogatory slang for Vampire

Previous Chapter here

One week earlier

Steve was summoned to visit Sacrament in the Upside Down, and he should have gone with a few of his brothers in the pack but decided he didn't want company.  He snuck out there through the portal in the woods in his hulking wolf form at first, to sniff the place out, noting the high number of vampires and demobats circling overhead.  

He came back the next night in his truck, through the bridge, and was told to ask for Craven at the bar.

Craven sniffed the air and snarled when Steve walked up, and Steve returned the gesture, curling his top lip to show that he had sharp teeth too.  Werewolves were very strong—supernaturally so—but they were not immortal like vampires, and so it was always wise to operate around bloodsuckers with a measure of caution.

“I’m here to see Jareth,” Steve shouted over the synth music, squeezing in between two scantily clad human women.  

Steve was dressed like he’d just come from chopping wood in the mountains in a plaid button-down and jeans, and a wholesome curl of dark hair that bounced over his forehead.  Craven, on the other hand, was tattooed from neck to hands, wearing a wife beater that fit tight around his muscles and slicked back hair that was a bit greasy, but in a sexual way.  

“No one sees Jareth without an invitation,” Craven said smugly, throwing a rag over his shoulder to brace his hands in front of him.

Steve gave a wry smile.  “You think I’d come here just to shoot the breeze with you Fangers? He knows I’m coming.”

Craven clicked his tongue disapprovingly and went to grab the phone on the wall above the cash register, but in the blink of an eye, Jareth was already standing there, right next to Steve. He must have watched him come in on one of the cameras mounted on the ceiling. Steve moved back, out of surprise, but then he stepped forward again, meeting blonde, vampire Jareth eye to eye, letting him know he wasn’t afraid.

Steve really wasn’t afraid; his alpha ego was too big for that. Sure, he knew there was a chance that an older vampire might best him in the end, but he’d get the fight of his life.  

“Whatever he wants, it’s on the house,” Jareth told Craven, all while never taking his eyes off his guest.  

Steve declined a beverage and followed in Jareth’s wake through the sea of people moving to the music under the blue lighting.

Back in the simple black and cream decor of his office, Jareth found his firey assistant Maxine sitting behind his desk and he waved her out.  

“Oh? You didn’t tell me we were adopting a pound puppy,” she teased with a deadpan delivery, keeping a bored expression on her face.  

Steve knew they’d be taking cheap shots at him, he’d prepared himself for it.

“Get out, Maxine,” Jareth said impatiently.  “I need to have a word with our lycanthrope friend here.”

She obeyed, slinking out the door in her skin tight latex dress and platform heels, smacking her glossy lips in Steve’s face as she went.  

Jareth was in all black with a slim leather jacket on that looked like it had been tailored just for him.  He perched at the front of the desk, crossing his booted feet at the ankles, and folded his arms over his chest.

“Take a seat,” he told Steve.

Steve glanced down at the chair in front of Jareth.  “I’ll stand, thanks. What is this about?”

“You really don’t know why I’ve asked you here?” Jareth’s face looked like it was carved out of stone. “Do you need a hint?” 

For the first time, Steve broke eye contact.  “I don’t have any news about the girl.”

Jareth tilted his head back, so that he was looking down his nose at the visitor.  “You’ve been keeping an eye on her, like I asked?”

Steve gave a tight nod. 

The truth was that Steve hadn’t accidentally bumped into you at the bookstore that day two months ago; he knew where you would be and he’d sought you out.  His pack were in league with what some would consider “vampire royalty” and they made a lot of money doing jobs for them. 

At first, he started looking out for you because Jareth told him too.  But after around the third week, he realized he was protecting you because he cared about you.  He didn’t trust anyone from the pack to watch your trailer after dark, so he did it himself.  There were a few nights when he swore you’d looked out from your kitchen window and saw him: two red eyes glowing in his honey brown fur.  

“What’s your interest in her?” Steve chanced, knowing full well that Jareth would not answer it if he didn’t want to.  

“She says she’s human, but I don’t believe her,” Jareth raised an eyebrow.  “There’s something else going on with that one, and until I find out, I don’t want any harm to come to her.”

You weren’t human, Steve knew that from the first smell.  You were part human, part something else, as if your blood were filled with static from a television.  

“I asked you here because I need you to get closer to her, to see if you can find out anything more about her…condition.”

Steve didn’t like this anymore, he felt like he was being dishonest to you, and that one day you’d find out he was hired to watch you instead of being the avid science fiction lover he’d claimed to be.  Every time he interacted with you lately, he wanted to mention it, but he couldn’t figure a casual way to say, “hey, I’m being paid to watch you, I sleep in the woods outside your trailer a few nights a week, but I’m starting to have feelings, and was wondering if you were free for dinner?”

Steve pulled his shoulder’s back, puffing his chest out a bit.  “If you want to know more about what she is, why don’t you just ask her, man? What’s with all the cloak and dagger?”

Jareth pushed off the desk and walked over to look at a piece of abstract splatter art on the wall while he spoke, clasping his hands behind his back.  “My presence at her trailer park would certainly ring some alarms, I’m sure you are not so dense,” his tone was condescending but proper.  “I don’t want anyone, especially Munson, to know that I have any interest in her. Not yet, anyway.”

Since Steve had been watching you, he was also well aware of Eddie’s comings and goings. “Eddie hasn’t interacted with her in weeks, not that I’ve seen,” Steve told him.  “Appears like the two are avoiding each other.”

Jareth scoffed.  “I’m not particularly a fan of his, but when Edward has a job to do, he does it well,” he turned from the painting and went around the desk.  “My gut tells me that he has something up his sleeve, and my gut is never wrong.”

Steve let the information sink in.  “You don’t think Eddie would hurt her? He’s a car thief and a drug dealer, but not a killer.”

Jareth bent down to pretend to look at some paperwork, but then his eyes lifted to Steve and he smirked. “Is that what he told you?”

“We’ve never really talked but—”

“I’ve been doing my own investigating, but until I get some answers, just get close to her however you can, I want to accelerate this end game.”

“And what endgame is that?” Steve’s voice was low and commanding as he pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to reveal the generous muscles in his forearms.  He rested his back against the wall, not sure he wanted to know the answer. 

“The official endgame, Sir Harrington,” Jareth’s striking, ancient blue eyes gleamed.  “Is none of your business.”

—---

“Sorry about that,” you told Steve as you climbed into the cab of his truck. “I had no idea he was coming over.”  

You were apologizing for Eddie, of course, and the way he’d been giving Steve the death stare when he’d come to pick you up.  The snow was coming down harder now, in huge wet flakes the size of quarters, plopping like dissolving puffs of cotton onto the windshield of the truck.

“Was he bothering you?” Steve asked protectively, glaring at the door to Eddie’s trailer while you fumbled with your seatbelt.  

“No, he’s…he’s just a friend,” you said, trying to blink away the flashes of all of the sex dreams you had of him that were ricocheting through your head. 

After Eddie had stepped out of your trailer and shut the door, he’d stood on your porch for a minute, taking his time to light a cigarette before slowly making his way over to his place.  He made eye contact with Steve a few times through the windsheild, wondering if he should kill him.

The inside of Steve’s big old truck was warm, it smelled like winter wool and the yellow vanilla car freshener he had hanging from the radio knob.  The song Working Man by Rush played low from the speakers.  

You’d heard about the Werewolves of Hawkins from Bob and Argyle when a few of them came into the bar one night.  Apparently, they were very reclusive and only ventured to town in human form every so often.  

“Have you never seen a werewolf before?” Bob Newby, the owner of the bar you worked at, asked you with a tilt of his head and a curious smile.  “They’re all over the woods.  Beautiful creatures.”

He’d said it so casually, as if a man turning into a wolf and roaming around at night was the most normal thing in the world.  

“Are there no werewolves where you come from?” Argyle asked while he wiped down a bottle of tequila.  

You moved your eyes as if to think.  “Uh, nope, not that I know of anyway.  Hawkins is the only place I’ve ever heard of them ever existing before.  What’s next? Are you going to tell me that Faeries and Shapeshifters are real too?”

Bob and Argyle exchanged a knowing look.  Bob gave you a consolation pat on the back, “one day at a time there, missy.  Let’s give you a chance to get used to werewolves first, and then we can move on to the next.”

That night in the darkness of the movie theater with Steve, you turned to whisper in his ear.  “Can you change into a werewolf whenever you want, or only during a full moon?”

He chuckled, leaning in so that his cheek was on your head. He was so warm, you wondered if he had a fever.  “When you’re a pup, in the early days, the transformation happens at the most awkward times.  Once we get older and learn how to control our emotions, we can go through the change whenever we need to.”

“Like right now?” Your lips were close to his neck, breath tickling his skin, giving him goosebumps.  

The side of his mouth moved against your forehead. “Just say the word, darlin’.”

Your hands fumbled together a few times while reaching for popcorn at the same time, and a voice in your head said:

This is nice

Steve is nice

Steve was a good guy who probably thought you were a normal woman who’d led a fairly typical life, and you worried you were misleading him.  

There were a few times though, after the movie and on the ride back, when you felt like he wanted to tell you something, but then he would stop short.  He’d rub the back of his neck and start out with, “yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” but then he’d shake his head and jump to another topic.  

Steve cursed to himself at how bad he was fumbling the night, he felt like he was a goddamn teenager again. 

The only thing he knew for sure after that night was that he liked you a lot, and more than ever he needed to cut ties with Jareth. He’d been meaning to break free from the politics of the pack to become a Lone Wolf, and this felt like the perfect opportunity.  He was next in line to be Alpha, but it was a role that he had no interest in playing.  

Parked next to the hearse in front of your trailer again, the snow had stopped, but it was up to your ankles now, and you couldn’t help but notice the light in Eddie’s living room was on.  

“Here, wait, let me walk you,” Steve insisted.

“No, I’m good,” you were already on the ground, looking up at him across the seat.  “If Bela hears your voice too close to the house, she’ll just go nuts again.”

You'd told him about your new companion earlier, and he looked at you like you'd decided to take in a pet dragon.

“I’ll wait here until I know you got in okay.” Steve said softly, giving you a nod.  “Hey, are you doing anything tomorrow night?”

“I’m, well, I think–” you stammered.  Was Steve about to ask you on an actual date? “I might pick up a shift at Main Vein tomorrow night.”

“There’s going to be a reading at the bookstore, and I promised Robin I’d help string some lights and set up some chairs.  So, I’ll be in the neighborhood if you want to get something to eat or, whatever.  I’d really like to see you again.”

He said the last part in a rush, partially hoping you wouldn’t catch it.

The admission made your cheeks hot under his steady gaze.

You told him you’d stop by if you weren’t waitressing, and at your front door with the key in the lock, you turned to wave at him one more time over your shoulder before slipping inside to flip the deadlock behind you.  You closed your eyes and leaned against the door until you heard the rumble of his truck growl onto the main road, and then you flipped the lights on.  

“Mr. Wonderful couldn’t walk you to the door?” 

The voice made you jump and a scream caught in your throat.

Eddie was sitting on your couch, arms stretched out over the back of it, as if it were his trailer and he’d been expecting you.  

You let the shock of it subside, taking a long breath to slow your heart rate. 

You hung your bag on the hook by the door and started to shrug out of your coat.  “You know, when I invited you in, I didn’t mean break in whenever you felt like it.”

“I didn’t break in,” he lowered one arm and rested that hand between his legs. “I know where you hide your spare key.”

“It’s not funny, Eddie,” you threw your jacket on the recliner.  “I’d like you to leave now, please.”

“How was your date?” He bit out the last part.

“I’m not answering any of your questions,” you stopped in your tracks and looked around, suddenly alert.  “Where is Bela? I don’t hear her.  Eddie, if you did anything to her, I will —-”

“I would never hurt her,” he moved to stand up, and under his breath he added, “or you.”

“So?” You flapped your arms out, impatiently, blood pressure spiking.  “Where is she?”

Eddie came forward and put a finger to his lips, motioning for you to lower your voice.  He guided you down the hallway, ignoring your protests, until he arrived at your bedroom door and turned the knob, opening it slowly.

Bela was curled up on your bed in a blanket, breathing heavy like she’d just been dosed with a tranquilizer.  

“She broke out again while you were gone,” he whispered.  “Blew the bathroom door right off its hinges and came scratching at my door like maybe I had you.”

Your eyes went to the window across the room, seeing that there were boards hammered over it now, which was more of Eddie’s handiwork.

Feeling you softening at his side, Eddie pulled the door closed with a click.  You were having a hard time meeting his eyes.  You’d been so mad at him, so ready to scream and kick him out into the snow.

“She let you hold her?” You asked, noticing that you no longer had a bathroom door, Eddie must’ve taken it out to fix it.

“I'm charming, what can I say?” he shrugged.  “And I gave her some of my blood from a little eyedropper.”

“You what?” You spun on him, appalled.

“Don’t sound so horrified,” He put his hands on his hips once you reached the kitchen.  “They need vampire blood to calm their nervous system.  She’ll sleep like a baby now.”

In the book you were reading, the author did say that demobats who drank regular doses of vampire blood seemed to fare better than the others, but you’d decided to disregard that information as speculation.  

“In that case, I guess I should say thank you,” you opened the fridge and took out the Brita water filter and a glass from the cupboard.  

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his thigh against the counter.  “Did that Steve guy try to make a move on you or what?”

You frowned at him.  “Listen, you don’t get to invade my space and bombard me with personal questions.  Why does it matter so much to you what we did?”

“I don’t trust him,” Eddie had his eyes trained on one spot in front of him, studying a patch of air while he worked his jaw.  

“If it’s any comfort, I don’t think he cares much for you, either.”

Eddie’s head spun to look at you.  “What did he say about me?”

“Nothing!” You clarified, raising the tone of your voice to match his. “He didn’t mention you at all, actually.  It’s just a feeling I got.”

You took a drink, and when you put the glass back down, Eddie moved in, bracketing your hips with his hands on the countertop, caging you there while he searched your eyes.  “Did he kiss you?”

You didn’t answer right away, and so he asked it again.

“Did he kiss you?”

The way his lips hovered there so close to yours made you swallow hard. The air between the    two of you crackled with electricity.  You waited for his eyes to go black, for his fangs to eject, for him to take your blood into his mouth like he had that night in the alley.  

“Would it bother you if he had?” There was an air of pleading in your tone that you had not intended to be there.

Please let it bother you.

Eddie slid his bottom lip through his teeth and leaned back, stepping away from you.  “I just think you should keep your distance from him, that’s all.  Werewolves are notoriously…” he trailed off as if searching for the right word. “...undisciplined.”

You wondered about Eddie’s discipline, how hard it was for him not to go the rest of the way and claim you just then.  To sink his teeth in and suck on that nectar of yours that he craved so deeply.  You could see the desire in his eyes, the way the brown irises melted into umber and his pupils expanded.  

You would not have stopped him, that was the final truth of it.

In that moment, you knew that if Eddie Munson wanted to kiss you, you would not put up a fight. 

You would not pull back and ask, “what are you doing?”

You would just know. 

“I changed the bulb in your porch light, by the way,” he added on his way to the door.  “Noticed it was out.”

You did not turn to watch him go, you kept your back to him.  “Thank you again for Bela and for boarding up the window.”

He mumbled something under his breath that made you look over your shoulder.  “What was that?”

He stopped in his tracks with his hand on the doorknob, hair long around the shoulder of his leather jacket.  “I said, you know where I am, if you ever need anything.”

Eddie stepped out onto your front porch and exhaled a shuddering, long-held breath.  He shut his eyes and rubbed the heels of his palms into them.  “Holy shit, Munson, you are such an idiot,” he scolded himself, feeling a sprinkle of snow again on his flesh.  

He took a step down and then paused, thinking he should go back in.

Thinking he should tell you…everything.

Maybe you would understand.

Maybe you’d lean into his kiss and pull him closer.

Maybe…

But then the shadow of uncertainty shrouded him and he kept going.

—-------

You ended up covering for Argyle behind the bar the next night while he went to California for a week, and thankfully it was a slow shift because you were still figuring out what alcohol went in which drink.  But then a crowd of people on their way to the poetry reading at Robin’s came through, and two of them were vampires, so you had to get out the manual to remember which synthetic blood type to use in the various mixtures.

“Another whiskey with a beer back for the Chief,” Erica scooted up next to you and tapped your arm to get you to lean in closer to her.  “Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

Jim Hopper was in a booth by himself in the dimly lit room, facing the door, and you had noticed that he seemed very interested in getting a good look at everyone who came in that evening. He still had his uniform on, since he was only recently off the clock, and he was tapping his knee and chewing on the side of his fingernail with some type of anticipation.

You knew that if you got closer, you’d be able to get a better read on his emotional state.

“I’ll take it to him,” you said to Erica, and then the two of you talked about the movie you went to with Steve because she hated it and said she was angry those were two hours of her life she could never get back.  “I can’t believe you let a werewolf take you on a date,” she squinted.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking for trouble.”

You moved around her with both of Jim’s drinks and winked.  “I’m the one who’s trouble.  They come looking for me.”

“Oh I believe that,” she quipped in your wake.

The closer you got to Jim, the more you could sense the yearning inside of him.  There was desperation with sadness around the edges, and the hint of a familiar sinister urge, much like you’d felt with the Klemps all those weeks ago.  

His eyes met yours only briefly when you set his drinks down, and then you asked if he wanted one menu or two.  

“Not tonight, thanks.  I’m waiting for someone, and then I need to split,” he nodded as he warmed the whiskey in his big hands and wiped a sheen of perspiration from his forehead.

Well, there was your answer.

You and Hopper both looked up when the door opened that time, and you were pleasantly surprised to see Steve standing there.  Shoulders broad in his plaid shirt and his luscious head of hair looking wild from the wind outside.  His face lit up when he saw you. 

“Hey stranger,” you walked over to him, beaming.  

Steve had been pacing out on the sidewalk between the bookstore and the bar for the past 15 minutes trying to decide if he should go in or not.  By the way you were smiling at him, he could tell he'd made the right decision.  

“Hey, you,” he gave a smirk and raked his big hand through his unruly hair a few times.  He glanced around at the 8 or 9 customers.  “Do you have a break soon?  Or can I bring you anything?”

“My shift is over in an hour,” you talked as you returned to your station, waving at Bob through the serving hatch.  Steve rested his elbow on the bar.  “I was thinking I’d make my way over to the bookstore if you’re still around.”

“Oh I think I’ll be around,” he assured, tapping his knuckles on the wood, not wanting to sound too eager.  Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Erica glaring at him.  She was not much of a fan of the supernatural.  

Right behind Steve, a strikingly beautiful woman with short black hair and red lips strolled in. She had a long leather coat that she pulled tightly around her as she walked, and she appeared to know exactly where she was going, strolling over with ancient grace  to Jim’s table.  He stood up to greet her, and then they hunched across the table toward each other as if they were telling secrets.  

You realized you were staring as you spotted a tiny vial of dark liquid in her palm just before she slid it across the way to him under a cupped hand.  

“I’ll come back when you’re finished,” Steve said a few other things, but your mind had not retained them.  “We can walk over together.”

“Sure,” you said absently.  The mysterious woman with Jim got up and left after only a minute or two. Jim downed the rest of his drink, left a tip, and exited out the back, putting his hat on as he went.  

A bit later, as you were changing out of your apron in the back room and counting your bills, you wondered where Eddie was and what he was doing.

It made you curse out loud, the persistent way your mind clung to him.

It was irrational and wholly unfair.  

You wanted him to pull up in the GTO and tell you to get in without any explanation of why or where you were going. 

The customers continued to wane, and Bob told you to skedaddle 20 minutes earlier than you’d expected, so you figured you’d get a head start and meet Steve half way. Erica flipped you off, playfully mocking the fact that you could go home before her.  You snuggled down into your winter coat and pushed through the employee door that led to the parking lot at the greeting of a gust of bitingly cold wind.  You stopped to pull your gloves out of your pockets and the door that could only be opened from the inside locked shut behind you.  

When you looked up, Jareth stepped out of the shadows and loomed there, blocking your path.  

“I’m afraid you'll have to come with me, love.”  

----

hugs and kisses, thank you so much for reading! Your comments, asks, and reblogs mean the world xoxo

----

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[catcze]

here me out.. so like i was scrolling a pinterest and i found this one song on spotify called “cigarettes out the window x dangerously yours” and the first thing i thought about is neuvillette!! LIKE THE BRAINROTS IN MY HEAD RN. reader and him are in his office 😱

OH OH OH OH OH OKAY HOLD ON HOL D ONNNN 👀👀👀👀 The way i opened YT so fast!??! HASKJDNA but my GOD do i see what u mean anon—

I'm getting vibes of reader who is, perhaps, from the fatui? or from some other hostile organization (idk im workign on it 💔) and they get assigned to be a double agent at the Palais Mermonia and acquire sensitive information for the organization they work for. Initially, they weren't supposed to do anything complicated— they certainly weren't even supposed to ever cross paths with the chief justice of Fontaine. But what do you know, Neuvillette falls for you first and invites you out to a meal, and you can't necessarily refuse.

Your superiors are delighted by the change in plans— if you get closer to the chief justice, you could easily get your hands on all sorts of information! So, although you're hesitant, you're forced to go along with getting closer to Neuvillette. But over time, you find that he's much, much more than most people think he is. He's more caring and gentle that most realize, and he's so sweet. Gods, he is so sweet. The way he cares for every single melusine is adorable. The way he enthusiastically encourages you to try water that he imported from gods-knows-where, just because he says that it taste fresh and clear like no other. And the way his eyes shine when you take a sip and tell him that he's right, that it's sp distinct, and he smiles, and you don't have the heart to tell him that in truth, it just tastes like water to you.

Before you know it, you're actually falling for Neuvillette. Not for the mission, not for the files. You're genuinely becoming head over heels for him. You can't tell your superiors this— you know you'd be pulled out and disposed of immediately now that you're compromised, but you can't go along with deceiving Neuvillette anymore. But if you tell him... no doubt he'd turn you away, like the double-crosser you are.

But you still find yourself in front of his office anyway, a heavy hand and a heavier heart knocking on his doors.

"Come in," he says.

And it's hard. Gods, it's so hard to come clean to him. You stutter and you just can't seem to spit out the words, so Neuvillette decides to talk first. He pulls something out of a drawer and sets it on his desk, opening its contents for you to see. And you gasp, because these are the files that you had been told were the highest priority. If you ever got your hands on them, you were to risk your life to get them back to your organization.

"Why are you showing me this?" You ask him, voice quiet, brow furrowed. Your hand reaches out to touch the papers, but you hesitate. Neuvillette just watches you, smiling mysteriously.

"Because you have my wholehearted trust," is all he says, and it's enough to break you.

The tears come flowing faster than you can help them. There's a lump in your throat, making it hard to breathe. Even as you splutter out the words, the confessions to why you're here, why you got close to him, and everything else in between, Neuvillette listens patiently. He doesn't yell, doesn't glare or curse you out. He doesn't shout for guards to come and toss you into the darkest pits of Meropide. Instead, he's calm.

"I know," he says as a means of explanation, and you still. His hand reaches across the desk, holding yours gently. "Since the very first day we met, when you stood beside me drenched in rain on the balcony, I've known. And my heart is yours anyway."

You shake your head, still crying quietly. "I will betray you. If not, I will be killed."

Neuvillette's hand squeezes yours. "Do you think so little of me that I would allow any harm to befall you, my love?"

"I think the world of you," you argue, and he smiles.

"There is no safer place for you than by my side. Should there be any threat to your life, I would use every ounce of my power to dispose of it, " Neuvillette vows. "Your organization has made a great many mistakes, but the greatest of them all has been sending you to me, and expecting me to ever let harm befall you."

HAJSDSAJKL LISTEN the monologue in the clip that i found (hopefully we're talking abt the same mashup ?!?!?) was longer + had more drama but OUGH my brain craves soft sweet tender romance without too much drama and life-or-death haksdkajs

[suuuupernovaaa]

meyp

meyp [mɛjp̚] adj. weak

Anonymous Request: Lo'ak is in love with reader but she's a great warrior and he's too shy to even talk to her and he convinces himself that he's too weak for her, but one day after going on a hunt with a group which reader leads he ends up being wounded and Jake can't even shout at him because reader immediately takes Lo'ak to treat him and praise him that he's so strong and he did well, they have this talk where Lo'ak tells her how she sees himself which she denies and they end up confessing to each other.

Reminder: Everyone is aged up in my fics to be 19/20.

From our day of work, there is much to take back to our clan, enough for a small feast. I smile at N'mor, my dearest friend, and pat her on the back.

"A successful hunt. We should return. Will you gather everyone?"

Five or six young men have joined us on our hunt today, and they are nearby, all exhausted. I was told not to push them too hard, but I'm afraid I may have crossed the line. I feel it was worth it, though, for all we will be bringing back.

We load up the sled and three of the young men pull it back, with some effort, but we aren't too far now.

"Are you tired?" I ask N'mor, and she rolls her eyes at me.

"Do you care?"

I throw my head back and laugh. "Of course I do! What kind of leader would I be?"

She bumps her shoulder into mine. "I'm fine, Y/N. We're all a little tired, but we had a good hunt."

Looking to my right, I see Lo'ak coming up to walk alongside me. He's part of the reason that I pushed us so hard - you can't take it easy when you have the chief's son on the hunt with you.

"It was a good day, Lo'ak," I say, smiling at him. He is dirty and sweaty, just like me, but he smiles in return; a wide, handsome smile.

"You're a good leader," he replies, and I try to compose myself and keep from blushing.

--

Lo'ak had insisted on joining the hunt today, when he found out Y/N would be leading it. He had been trying to steal moments with her, here and there, but she was much in demand.

She was one of the fiercest warriors of their clan, and surely the best hunter of all the female Na'vi - and was thus busy, from sun up til sun down, nearly every day.

He knew this hunt might afford them a chance to speak, so he let those other three guys pull the heavy sled, and jogged up to walk with Y/N and her friend, N'mor.

He compliments her a little nervously, and when she smiles at him, he's nearly blinded by the sight of it; there's never been a more beautiful Na'vi than this woman before him, and his knees feel a little weak. In fact, Lo'ak always feels a little weak around Y/N - everything about her screams power and strength. It's intimidating.

"Watch out!" someone hollers, and Lo'ak turns just in time to feel the arrow sink into his arm. The pain is only beginning to register when he sees the sturmbeast charging his way, and more arrows fly.

--

Lo'ak begins to sink to the ground, so I kneel down, and hoist him over my shoulders.

"Come!" I say to N'mor. The men have thwarted the rough sturmbeast, and Lo'ak needs medical attention. The two of us run the distance back, and I try to go as fast as I can with Lo'ak as dead weight on my shoulders.

"Help!" I scream as we make it back to Home Tree, and many rush forward to help. On the verge of collapsing, Lo'ak is lifted off my shoulders. "This way," I say, and we take off, running for Tsahik's healing tent.

Lo'ak is beginning to moan just as we arrive, and the men lay him on Tsahik's floor, then run out - presumably to alert Taruk Makto.

"Lo'ak, can you hear me?" I ask, as Tsahik leans over him.

"Snap the arrow," she tells me, and Lo'ak's eyes fly open. I reach over, gripping the blood-drenched arrow, and snap the end off. Lo'ak groans, eyes wide, staring up at me, and Tsahik removes the arrow in one swift motion - which elicits another shout from Lo'ak - and gets to work.

"He will live," Tsahik reassures me, and I wonder if my face looks as panicked as I feel on the inside.

I am sweating, shaking from head to toe, and I can't seem to break gaze with Lo'ak. The tent feels small and crowded, even though it's just the three of us; I can tell from all the chatter that many have gathered outside to see what has happened to the son of Olo'eyektan.

I feel responsible. It was my hunt, I was in charge, and Lo'ak has been injured. I should have been paying attention.

"You're going to be okay, Lo'ak. Remain strong." The words come tumbling out of my mouth, and I can't seem to stop them. "You are the strongest man I know, Lo'ak Sully. I was honored you joined my hunt today, and I am so sorry you've been hurt. I'll never forgive myself. I admire you greatly. Your... your skill, your spirit, your strength. You will get through this."

Lo'ak closes his eyes for one moment as his grandmother pours something on his wound. I can't tell from his expression whether it's soothing or painful, until he lets out a hiss and opens his eyes again.

I reach down, taking his free hand into both of mine, holding it tight.

--

Though it doesn't take his grandmother all that long to clean and close the wound, it feels like eternity to Lo'ak.

His focus is split. The burning pain in his arm is very demanding, but Y/N is holding his hand in his, and telling him he's strong, and she admires him... and he can't deny, that definitely helps.

His grandmother gives him something to take for the pain, and he goes to deny it, but Y/N insists.

He'd probably do anything she asked for, so he throws it back.

"I must go talk to your parents. Do not use this arm until I tell you to," his grandmother says, gesturing to his injured arm, and he nods.

As she leaves, he tries to sit up, having difficulty with just one arm until Y/N reaches out, pulling him up right, and he sees the panic on her face and tears in her eyes.

"This wasn't your fault, Y/N. Something was wrong with that beast - and Rafi shot me. He's a moron."

Finally, a small smile paints her face, and Lo'ak revels in it. He would get shot all over again if it meant Y/N would smile at him, and speak kind words over him.

"I meant what I said, Lo'ak. I do admire you. And I'm sorry you got hurt today."

Lo'ak reaches out, brushing her hair from off her cheek, and tucking the braids behind her ear. She looks to his hand, a soft blush on her cheeks, and he realizes in this moment that though she is fierce and formidable, she is also delicate, beautiful and soft.

"I wish to court you, Y/N," he blurts out, and her eyes snap back to his, wider than he's ever see them.

"Lo'ak!" The tent flaps open up, and his parents appear, just at the perfect moment.

--

I excuse myself, allowing Lo'ak's parents to ensure he's okay, only stopping to apologize for allowing this on my watch and ensuring them it is my fault and no one else's. I don't want Rafi to get any heat for this, even if he is partially to blame. I'll speak to him about practicing with his bow later.

My head is spinning as I make my way back home. I think of grabbing N'mor to talk to her about what just happened, but I'm not sure what I would say... or that I need to talk it through.

I have always liked Lo'ak. I've admired his free spirit, his stubbornness, and his strength. On more than one occasion, I've thought that he would make a fine mate. I just never considered it would be a possibility for him to be my mate.

Having never been one to over-analyze of over-complicate things, I want to say yes to Lo'ak's proposal, but we've been interrupted. I bite my lip, considering how I might pry him away from his family.

"Y/N!" I hear Lo'ak hollering, and turn to see him exiting the healing tent. Many eyes are on us, as Tsahik works at the center of Home Tree. I see his parents exit the tent behind us, watching with confused eyes as he runs up to me, holding his bad arm. "You didn't answer me," he says when he arrives, standing in front of me, panting.

"I didn't get a chance to," I reply with a smile. "You should be resting."

"Later. What do you say?"

His persistence makes me laugh, and it makes me feel so loved and desired, it's nearly overwhelming.

"Of course, Lo'ak. I would be honored. I... watching you today, worrying for you, I've never felt like that for anyone. I care for you, very much."

--

Lo'ak's heart swells in his chest. He feels tired, and sore, and he wants to lay down and sleep for hours, but her words are invigorating.

He wants to shout that he loves her, but he knows he needs to wait.

Instead, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. When he pulls away, she steps forward, bringing her mouth up to his again, and putting a hand firmly on his cheek, holding him in place.

His lips curl up in a smile against hers.

He knows this woman will be his mate - he will make sure of it.