#it's fucking 1:39am

[tired-reader-writer]

FLAT COLOURS!!! :D Except I haven't coloured his necklace thing and also I forgot to put in his bracelet again— I'll do it in the next session, I swear T_T

I'm pretty satisfied with the tattoo designs and colours! They were such a pain to draw but I feel like it was worth it 😭

The stuff I'm actually not sure about are his clothes. I'm never sure what colour each part should be. Do y'all got any suggestions? Oh and the bells too, definitely. I feel like the clothing part is just a placeholder for now. What do you guys think?

He's supposed to actually have hazel eyes. I don't know how I'll get to colouring hazel eyes but uh... we'll see, I suppose? 😭

[phoenixsoul13]

finally tried the Nick Valentine Romance mod

time to go chew on my feelings

[babovens]

No one told me how sad a character death in DnD would be…

[safeanclsound]

GONCHAROV ISN’T A REAL MOVIE????????????

[evie-sturns]

ʙᴇᴅᴛɪᴍᴇ - ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: chris and you have twins together, lola and maggie, bedtime is always a struggle with them.

contains: fluff, kissing, swearing.

------------------------..••°°°°••..--------------------—-

11:37pm

chris and i have been dating since highschool, 4 years ago i gave birth to twins

"girls! bedtime please, i didn't realise the time." i call out, opening the door to their shared bedroom.

maggie and lola are bouncing on their double bed while squealing, i walk over to them, my hands resting on my waist. "are you meant to be doing this?"

they both pause to look over at me, innocence spread across their face.

"no.." maggie says quietly, i nod with a small smile

"are you ready for bed?" i ask as the girls flop down on the bed, "yes!" lola says throwing her arms up with a cute grin.

i pull up the covers over them, "stay in bed for the whole night okay? daddy will be in the kitchen until late, so bother him alright?" i say, pressing kisses to their foreheads.

walking out of their room, i flick off the lights behind me. i close their door softly and go out into the kitchen.

chris is sitting on a dining table chair, his phone in one hand and a pepsi can in the other.

"they asleep?" chris asks, putting his phone down "thankfully." i reply with a sigh, sitting down on chris's lap with a heavy sigh.

he plants a long kiss into my hair "i love you so much."

i flip myself around to straddle chris, moving my hair to one side i collide our lips together desperatly. "fuck.." chris breathes into the kiss.

bang.

a loud bang comes from the kids room, i instantly pull away from the kiss, my eyebrows scrunching i throw myself off of chris's lap.

i hear excitable laughing coming from outside their door. i swing open their door, the bedside table is tipped over, maggie and lola are giggling while throwing stuffed animals at each other.

"lola and maggie." i yell sternly, their heads instantly snap round to look at me, their face dropping.

"do you know what time is it? almost midnight." i glare at them

"i am going to put you to bed and if i hear another noise come from this room, dad is going to come in here and be very angry." im cut off by lola

"mommy but- but maggie keeps taking the blanket and my stuffie." she whines.

i shake my head and shut the door for the second time tonight.

"chris-" i say walking into the kitchen "shh i know." he says, grabbing my waist and picking me up. i groan into his shoulder as he walks us into the living room.

"lets watch a movie okay?" chris says calmly, the warm sleves of his crewnecks wrapped around me.

he plonks us down on the couch, i lay on his body comfortably.

-

1:34am

"this is the best part shush!!" i giggle.

"mooom!" i hear lola laugh as she runs into the room, clutching the ear of her bunny toy in one hand.

i look over at chris, whose rubbing his eyes with his ringed hands.

"maggie wet the bed." she points to her bedroom with a snort, covering her smile with her stuffed animal.

chris sits up, moving me off him and walking over to lola. he scoops her up with one arm, looking into her eyes he starts "did you hear what mom said?" he asks, maintaining eye contact with lola.

"well mommy's stupid!" lola says sassily, my jaw goes slack.

"lola no." chris says, more stern than ive ever heard him. he carries lola out of the room.

i lay back on the couch, closing my eyes and instantly drifting to sleep.

9:39am (the next day)

the harsh sunlight hits my body from the window to my left. i sit up, dazed and somehow in pyjamas, even though i fell asleep in jeans and a tanktop.

"what the fuck.." i groan, my eyes adjusting to the blinding light.

chris walkss into the living room "hey!! you're awake." he says happily.

"oh yeah hope you dont mind, i changed you last night after i changed the girls sheets, you were knoocked outt though." he says with a laugh.

"oh shit wait-" he says, doing a full 180° out of the living room.

he comes back in about a minute, hes holding lola and maggie, one in each hand. theyve both got small cards in their hands and a guilty expression on their face.

"chris what is this?" i ask, standing up off the couch.

"mommy i'm very sorry for being awake late last night." lola says, chris sets her down on two feet and she trots up to me, handing me the card.

the cards are in chris's hand writing, but has a drawing made by lola on the front.

"she told me what to write." chris clarifies setting down maggie aswell.

maggie runs up to me, "and im sorry for wetting the bed but dad says it wasn't my fault and you were just tired and grumpy and it was okay -.."

shes cut off by chris's hand over her mouth "shh shush".

"christopher!" i laugh, slapping his arm with a scoff.

—-----------------------..••°°°°••..-------------------—-

got a good feeling bout this one team!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sundrop-writes]

Figure It Out

A Criminal Minds Casefic

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” -Friedrich Nietzsche 

Summary:

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team.

When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance.

Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

Word Count: 18,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed Warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a general casefic - there is no romantic pairings in this fic, it is more about the mystery of the case and how the reader character fits into it (if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader) - with that being said, the main relationship focuses are between Emily and the reader and Spencer and the reader (because I am biased and I love them) but there isn’t any romantic threads or romantic tones, it is all platonic; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and is described as a woman, but I went out of my way to make sure that there is no descriptions of the readers looks or body type; there is use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); mentions of the reader being from Georgia (because the case takes place in her hometown); smoking/cigarettes - mentions of the reader character smoking tobacco; mentions of the reader character being injured (severely in a past incident, and minor injuries during the course of the fic); mentions of vomit/mentions of the reader character throwing up; lots of warnings for general Criminal Minds topics; murder, killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, violence, guns/gun violence, mentions of rape and sexual violence, mentions of systematic violence towards women; there is no graphic depictions of rape/no rape scenes in the fic, but there is mentions of the event of rape happening to certain characters, references to rape culture, and the shame/guilt/self blame a rape victim feels; mentions of stalking/stalking behaviors - including the delusion mindset of a stalker, obsessiveness, sending someone unwanted letters, mentions of a ‘one sided’ relationship; mentions of trauma/PTSD; descriptions of symptoms of PTSD; themes surrounding the cycle of violence; I did kind of purposefully make the warnings a bit more vague than I usually do, because I really don’t want to spoil the plot of this fic. But as lot as you are okay with the maturity of all these themes, you should be okay with this fic!!

A/N: This is pretty much 100% inspired by the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood - which the fic is named after. I highly recommend watching the music video, because it is fucking art in my opinion, but I have taken such heavy inspiration from it in terms of the style, tone, and even storyline - so the music video kind of spoils this fic. So probably watch it after you read the fic lmao. I also feel like the instrumental version of the song goes very well with this fic. This fic is not at all typical and I am terrified that people won't like it, or that they won't 'get it'. But I am very proud of it, so I am going to put it out there and hope that people enjoy it. So - please enjoy!! I really love writing Criminal Minds casefics and coming up with the details of a case, and writing it in this style was so, so exciting and interesting for me, and I really do hope that you can enjoy reading it.

...

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche 

...

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret more palpable in your lungs. 

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would soon be resigned to a cage. 

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand. 

Ten more minutes. 

“I just want to talk.” 

So caught up in your thoughts, your mind so foggy from the hectic night - you had almost forgotten that there was someone sitting in front of you. 

He looked so entirely stiff - wearing his cookie cutter suit and his carved-in scowl. He did nothing to shift your mood. 

“This is just a conversation. Nothing more.” 

He continued on, using a monotone, would-be soothing voice when you didn’t say anything. 

The metal chair felt stiffer underneath you, and you felt further suffocated within that small, concrete box. 

You felt inclined to call it an interrogation, but you wouldn’t be so quick to tell him that. It’s not like you were going to tell him what he wanted to hear. 

“You can smoke in here if that makes you feel more comfortable.” He added on, pushing something from the middle of the table toward you. 

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There was also an ashtray. A collection of things that someone had put there, knowing that you would be resigned to this tiny, tiny room. 

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch.” You huffed, saying his name, using the same technique that he would likely be using on you. You could mirror him, get ahead on the mind games. “I’m not as crazy and detached from reality as you think I am.” 

Perhaps that was a false statement. You weren’t even sure how crazy he thought you were. Perhaps, that in itself made you detached from reality. You couldn’t be sure. 

Nonetheless, you took him up on the offer. You reached out and eagerly picked up the pack of smokes, ripping off the outer plastic before you took one out, shoving the tip between your lips and lighting it up. 

You took a heavy draw, and the nicotine throbbed through you. Seemingly adding to the headache you already had from the large gash on your forehead that they had hastily bandaged before bringing you in here, rather than relieving it. Still, you sucked on the cigarette like it was your only lifeline - taking a moment to tap some of the ash into the small ashtray while you stared at Hotch carefully. 

You wondered if you should really tell him all the gory details. 

“Just tell me what happened. Tell me your side of the story.” Hotch said, trying his best to sound warm and convincing. It didn’t work. “I’m just trying to figure it out. Just like you are.” 

Perhaps your biggest regret was that you were here, cooped up in this hole - and he was in the hospital somewhere, laying in a soft bed, being attended to by nurses, being comforted. The fact that he was still breathing - even with the assistance of a tube down his throat, and not in a body bag.

“You’ll never look at me the same if I do tell you.” You managed to find these words, and these words only. Ominous, almost threatening - more so than you intended. 

“I won’t.” He returned. Shallow, fallible. 

Suddenly, a crash from the hallway broke the tense silence that was brewing between the two of you. The door was thick, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the ruckus coming from outside. 

“No! No! You have to let me through! I have to be in there!” 

The voice was familiar, but that tone of desperation certainly was not. 

“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-” 

“Sit this one out?!” Reid repeated the words back, his voice warping with pure shock, the inability to conceptualize such a thing. “You expect me to just sit out?” He scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me, two more people would be dead, and there wouldn’t even be a ‘this one’! Now let. Me. Through.” 

“Reid-” 

With all his bolstering stubbornness, he shoved past whoever had been trying to stop him, and as you took another heavy puff off your cigarette, the interrogation room door came flying open. 

Hotch stood up, rushing to block the door, but you smiled. Though you were numb from the day’s events - it was your natural instinct upon seeing him. 

“Reid-” Hotch choked out, trying to block the gangly man from even entering the room. 

“Good evening, Doctor Reid.” You greeted him gently. 

Upon seeing your reaction - so much more open and warm - Hotch allowed him in. This was the wedge that he needed to pry you open. Reid closed the door behind himself with an indigent huff and a glare toward his superior. 

Reid crossed his arms, hovering near the door as he turned his stiff-jawed glare toward you now. Your cigarette turned to a hot cherry in your hands - sucked to death already, and you stubbed it out in the tray before starting a new one. You knew chain-smoking was an even filthier habit than the occasional ciggy, but you had one hell of a day under your belt. If there was ever a time, it was now. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reid asked, his voice stiff and oppositional. 

“Oh, so many things.” You said, your tone clever and unphased. Hotch let out a sigh as he sat back down in his chair. He was glad that you were talking openly now, at least. “Shall we go in alphabetical order, or start at my birth and work or way back from there?” 

Reid let out another nasal thick sound. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for banter. 

You were met with nothing but a stony wall of silence, and cold glares of disapproval. It almost made you feel guilty. Almost. 

“Let’s start with this,” Reid corrected you. “Why?” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself. 

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.” 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

Prentiss led the team as they searched through the house. It was the only solid lead they had as to where you might be. It was a house that your parents used to own - a place of significance because you had lived there the summer when it first happened. 

“Clear!” 

She went through the living room, the kitchen, the entire first floor, leading the team with Reid at her side, guns drawn. 

“Clear!” 

As she crested the top of the stairs, she heard sobbing. 

It was distinct - something that tugged harshly on her heartstrings. 

Even though it was against protocol not to clear the rooms in order, she rushed toward it. Reid continued to flank her - obviously he had heard the noise too. 

Prentiss landed a sharp kick on the door’s handle, causing it to fling open. 

The picture on display in front of her almost caused her to drop her gun. 

Hotch had been right. 

You were on top of the man, straddling him. Both you and the man were badly beaten - but right off the bat, Prentiss could tell that he was far worse off. Clearly, you had bested him in the fight this time. 

The contents of the room strewn about; broken glass, busted furniture, the curtain rod torn down. It looked like the remnants of a bad WWE brawl. You were the picture of desperation - heavy, hot tears coming from your eyes, blood smearing down your face from a gash on your forehead as you stared down the man beneath you with fiery madness in your eyes. 

You had a knife to his throat. A large hunting knife - the same kind that all the other victims had been stabbed with. 

You had the tip of it poised to his throat, just barely touching his skin. If you put any amount of pressure on the blade - if you bared down, then you would slice right through his esophagus. It would take almost no effort from you at all to end his life. 

From what Prentiss could see, the man was unconscious. He was completely slack, his body still on the ground. He was bleeding from a small head wound. His life was entirely in your hands. He couldn’t fight back. 

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of the confrontation with your life’s biggest monster. 

Though it went against everything inside of her, Emily kept her gun raised. She kept her arms stiff, keeping her gun pointed at you. As much as she detested that man, knowing what he had done - it was her job to shoot you if you tried to kill him. Right now, she hated that job. 

“Put the knife down!” Prentiss ordered sharply. 

You didn’t move. 

Naturally, Reid, in all of his softness and empathy, slackened his arms and holstered his gun before anyone could blink. 

“Come on, put it down.” She tried again. 

You ignored Prentiss entirely, your hands still shaking, making no moves to lift the knife away from the man’s throat. 

Reid moved to step into the room, and from his view at the top of the stairs, arms stiff and gun pointed in your general direction - Hotch called out to him. 

“Reid-!” He tried to warn Reid against doing this. Of course, he didn’t listen. 

Reid knelt down beside you, posturing in surrender with his arms. Of course, he wasn’t even on your radar at the moment. Your entire gaze, your entire focus was on the unconscious man underneath you - the true target of your agony. 

“Y/N,” Reid said your name calmly, trying to capture your attention. “You don’t have to do this.” 

You hesitated for a moment, and Prentiss worried that even his gentle voice wouldn’t be able to get through to you. 

“I have to.” You sobbed out. More heavy tears slid down your face, and you began to shake more visibly, shockwaves moving throughout your entire body. 

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.” 

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls. 

It made Prentiss’ heart jump inside of her chest. If it wasn’t protocol, she would have dropped her gun and run over to comfort you with a hug. But she knew that you weren’t in the most stable place. You might have tried to stab her with the knife. 

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-” 

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, trampling over his quiet voice. “I killed those women. I killed them!” 

“Prentiss!” Hotch edged in, warning her. 

If you didn’t move off of the unconscious man soon, then she would have to take you down. 

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. She had faith in Reid. 

“We both know that’s not true.” Reid told you. “You didn’t kill them. You didn’t mean for this to happen-” 

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.” 

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

At this point he was doing some pleading of his own - but your hands were unsteady and you still refused to look at him. 

You weren’t going to give up the fight that easily. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Somewhere On The Country Backroads - Madison, GA. 2:11AM.

“I want two squad cars down the road, I want state police cutting off all the possible exits to the major highways.” Agent Hotchner was on the scene, doing what he did best - giving orders. “I want to cut off any chance of possible escape incase the suspect tries to flee-” 

“Hotch, do you really think that’s necessary?” Morgan asked. “We’ve got the house. Thermal cam’s got two bodies on the second floor. There’s nowhere to run from here. We’ve got spike strips on all the dirt roads. No car is getting past any of that. It should function as a hard extraction from here.” 

Hotch glared at Morgan as he fastened the straps on his bulletproof vest. The glare of the red and blue lights from the squad cars only made the deep frown lines on his face look firmer. 

“I am not taking any chances.” Hotch said. “We both know this is an incredibly delicate matter. We found one of the victims across state lines. We know this suspect has mobility. I’m not risking finding another body.” 

The air became tense as everyone realized what he meant by ‘another body’. 

“I want tactical swat to go in first-” Hotch began, and was quickly cut off by Morgan. 

“You’re sending in swat when there’s a hostage in there?” Morgan questioned harshly. 

“Even if we go in there blazing, showing force, she might not come in quietly.” Hotch explained.

“You’re serious?” Prentiss replied, hooking the wire of her earpiece around her ear in order to tuck the mic in. “She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.” 

“You saw the incident report.” Hotch reminded her. “The amount of defensive wounds she had… the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard. She’s desperate, she’s feeling cornered, she-” 

“She’s terrified right now.” Prentiss pressed harshly. “She doesn’t need a bunch of men going in there waving guns in her face.” 

“She could sacrifice him.” Hotch theorized, further trying to prove his point. “This could be her chance to finally get justice. Finally getting rid of the man who’s tormented her for all these years.”

“So we have to bring them both in. Quietly.” Morgan said. “We can’t just go in there shooting. If your theory is correct, then she could use him as a human shield.” 

Hotch nodded. “Fine. No tactical swat. Prentiss, you take the lead.” 

“Yeah, and I’m taking Reid with me.” Prentiss told him sharply. “Somebody with a little compassion around here.” 

Prentiss nodded and scoffed, walking past Hotch, gently whispering ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ on her way to get in the car with Reid. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

When JJ let out a harsh sigh, Emily turned to her, swiveling in the borrowed office chair with a creak. 

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

“Don’t you feel that?” JJ replied. Emily shrugged, waiting a moment for her to finish the thought. “That… overwhelming feeling of dread?” 

Of course, it was obvious. No leads. No breaks in the case. 

It was hopeless. 

“Come on, I thought you were the hopeful one.” Rossi pointed out, tossing his empty paper coffee cup into a nearby trash can. 

“How can I be hopeful when one of my best friends is caught up in all this?” JJ fired back. “If she-” 

Before she could finish that thought, Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention. 

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.” 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

You knew that it was cruel, but you couldn’t help but to enjoy his groans of pain. 

There had been so many others - so many monsters to take down. So many men that you had gotten rid of without a second thought. Men you had put bullets in that didn’t mean as much to you as this. So many others you had easily forgotten about. But he had taunted your soul in a special way. And you knew that you were enjoying this too much. 

“Tell me you like it!” 

You screamed, taking another downward swing with the piece of wood - a leg broken off from the chair he had bound you to. He had been convinced that you wouldn’t break free. Laughable. He should have known better.  

When he didn’t respond, you took another swing. 

You could have stopped. You could have ended it. But you didn’t. 

“Come on, tell me you like it!” 

You screamed in his face, sputtering blood across him. At one point, he had punched you in the mouth. You weren’t exactly sure where the blood was coming from. You didn’t exactly care.

That would be your excuse.  

He had hit you too. You were battered. You were just a fragile woman, after all. 

“You’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He coughed, sputtering out some blood himself. “I… I always liked that about you. It was one of the reasons I fell in love.” 

He grinned - bright red spread out across his teeth, and it gave you the intense desire to see those teeth missing. To make him swallow them. 

“You don’t love me.” You told him firmly. “You just get an adrenaline rush from being around me because I’m not afraid of you.” You explained. “Unlike the other whores, I fight.” 

While you were preoccupied with the words, he flipped onto his stomach and began crawling across the floor. 

He thought you were too stupid to notice, but he was inching his way toward the hunting knife that had been thrown out of his hand during the scuffle. It was a slow, sluggish crawl. You had broken a few of his ribs, his kneecap. It was nice to see him so slow. You had probably severely damaged his internal organs with how hard you had been beating him with the makeshift baton. 

It was worse than last time. You stood above him like a menace - watching and waiting. You hated that you knew you would take an odd kind of joy in removing his hope when you stole the knife from his grip. 

Just as he grazed his fingers across it, you brought another harsh swing down across his achilles tendon, causing him to scream out in pain. 

You still had a lot of strength left in you. He was tiring out. 

He was losing the game. 

“Come on baby, tell me how you like it.” You continued to mock him. “Tell me how good I am.” 

“Fuck you.” He moaned out. 

You felt satisfaction bloom inside of you - those were the words. 

He had finally given up hope. He had finally realized that maybe: he wasn’t going to beat you. Maybe he wasn’t above you on the playing field anymore. He was fucking around with a fellow predator, not toying with his prey.  

“Oh baby. You know I’m only doing this because I love you.” You said, repeating his own words back to him in a cruel mockery. 

That was when he realized: this wasn’t just a lover’s spat. This was a culling. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Just Outside of Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:04AM.

Reid needed some air. 

Working on the case so diligently, not coming up with any leads. It was intensely difficult. Letting the balmy summer Southern air flow over him, getting a good gulp of the fresh air into his lungs - it was a bit more awakening than drinking his sixth cup of coffee for that day. 

He was surprised when he rounded a corner, trying to go for a short walk to stretch his legs, and he saw a very recognizable face hovering near a gray Honda. 

“Mrs. L/N?” He posed, approaching her gently. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

JJ had promised to call her if there were any updates. Reid didn’t want to disappoint her by telling her that there were none. 

“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.” 

Reid nodded at this. “My apologies.” 

She looked deeply troubled. 

Reid waited patiently for her to reply to his initial question - for her to tell him whatever was burdening her. If he was lucky, it could help with the case. It was always the families who could help put those final puzzle pieces into place. That was something Gideon taught him, so he took it as sacred advice. 

“You’re Doctor Reid, aren’t you?” She posed, stepping forward to approach him slightly - still stiff, still stand-off-ish. He easily understood why. He nodded in response. “My daughter speaks very fondly of you.” 

Reid cracked a small smile at this. 

His attention was then brought to a small box - a shoe box as she held it out to him. 

“I don’t mean to bother you at this late hour, but… you said to let you know if I thought of anything that might help you.” She reminded him. He nodded again. “And I - well, the reason I didn’t bring these up the first time… you can understand that I have a need to protect my daughter?” 

“Of course.” He affirmed. “It’s every parent’s natural instinct to protect their child.” 

She looked solemn at his words. 

“I had no idea that… that what happened to her could potentially be connected to these… these murders in any possible way.” She told him, shuddering as the word passed through her lips. “I was just trying to shield her, you have to understand.” 

She handed him the shoebox, and when he took it and lifted off the lid, it took him only a moment to understand. He would need to find a quiet place to fully inspect the contents, but it was all being pieced together in his mind now. 

“Thank you for bringing me this.” He told her quietly. 

“Doctor Reid, you have to promise me that you’ll bring my daughter home unharmed.” She said, tears coming to her eyes. “She’s a good girl. Please, just bring her home.” 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise her that. Not under the circumstances. 

“Ma’am… I will try my best. That is all I can promise you.” He told her. 

She nodded in quiet understanding before Reid turned and marched back inside. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 11:03PM.

The flint of the lighter flicking seemed to be the loudest thing in the room in that moment - even with the low hum of the eleven o’clock news playing in the background. 

It was so odd. Everything was exactly like you remembered it. Withered - but the same. 

Even the chair you were sitting in. The old wooden chair that had been lugged up from the kitchen, one that you used to sit in for hours and do homework - it was rickety, but somehow the same. 

You took a sharp drag off the cigarette after it was lit for you, continuing to listen to the feminine voice on the radio as the news played. 

“I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I’m speaking on behalf of the Madison Police Department. Tonight, we are making an urgent appeal to the public for information. Earlier this evening, a woman went missing in the area of-” 

“I never took you for a smoker.” He said, his voice sharp and confident in the words. 

You tapped your cigarette into the ashtray with your free hand before raising it up to your lips to take another drag. Right now, the smoke heavy in your lungs was the only thing keeping you sane. 

“I never smelled it on you back then.” He added on when you didn’t respond to him. “Bitches who smoke always smell like dirtbags. You just… smelled nice.” 

“I didn’t smoke back then.” You quietly replied. 

He had driven you to take up the habit. 

You took another drag of your cigarette - you wanted to enjoy it. The longer you could drag it out, literally, the longer you could delay the inevitable. 

“-The suspect was last seen driving a blue and white, 1970s Ford truck. If you see the vehicle, please-” 

“They’re lookin’ for ya.” He said casually, nodding toward the radio. 

You wished they weren’t. 

You directed the conversation elsewhere. 

“Tell me how this is gonna end.” You urged him quietly, ashing your cigarette again. 

“You and I both know… this was only ever gonna end one way.” He told you, his voice irritably cocky. 

He had you now. He had won. 

“-We believe that this abduction is connected to a string of recent murders in the area. It is critical that if you have any information, you call our tip line at-” 

He rose from his spot then, and turned off the radio. 

The silence was gutting. 

He moved toward the door, but you abruptly caught his attention. 

“Remember,” You told him. “You made me a promise.” You said quietly. “No more. No more girls.” 

He chuckled at this. “Of course, darlin’. No more.” 

It felt like a lie. 

“But only because I love you.” He gave a filthy grin along with these words, and your insides shuddered. 

You knew that he wasn’t actually capable of love. You had known that from the moment you first laid eyes on him. 

You didn’t bother to muster any words in return. 

He crossed the room back toward you and leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead. Your body stiffened, entirely stony toward it. It was selfish on his part - loving on you like a doll, rather than trying to bring you any comfort. 

He moved back to the door silently. 

You worried about what would happen the moment he went out the door. He turned to you just before he left. 

“Don’t run off now.” He said with a wink. Ego. Sarcasm. 

“Where am I gonna go, Dan?” You sighed. 

You lifted your tethered hand up to drive the point home, and the clink of handcuffs was now apparent in the otherwise silent room. 

He shut the door with a chuckle. You put out your cigarette in the ashtray, reaching for the loose spoke in the back of the chair. This was a chair that you used to sit in for hours while studying. That loose spoke used to bug you all the time. 

It came free after only a few tugs. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 10:24PM.

The previously dark parking lot of the secluded, back country convenience store was now entirely lit up with red and blue. Four police cars had crowded into the area, surrounding the place where you had last been seen. 

Inside, under the harsh white fluorescent lights of the store, Hotchner and Prentiss were interviewing the store clerk - a young man who had supposedly been the last person to speak to you before the abduction. 

“So, you’re sure that you didn’t see anything?” Hotch pressed the young man - someone who seemed so entirely nervous under his harsh, unmoving gaze. 

“I swear, man, I didn’t see anything.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “She was parked in the back of the parking lot, and once you walk around the corner, there’s no way to see someone through the doors. It’s like - like a total blind spot, man.” 

“The UnSub had to have known that.” Hotch noted quietly, turning to Prentiss. “He approached her knowing that he wouldn’t be seen.” 

“Do you think he was waiting out there?” Prentiss wondered aloud. 

Then she turned back to the clerk. 

“Was there a man in here before she came in? He would have been in his 30s. Very cold, he wouldn’t have said anything. Just paid quietly and left. He might not have even bought anything - he might have just walked around, checking the blind spots. And if you asked him what he was looking for, he would have given you a glare rather than speaking. This man is not sociable. He’s very distant. He likely wouldn’t have looked you in the eye.” 

The clerk shook his head. 

“No, nobody like that.” He explained. “That lady - she was my first customer in, like, hours. She just bought her ciggies and left. And I thought it was weird cause she bought a lighter too. Most smokers already have a lighter on them.” 

“I didn’t know Y/N smoked.” Prentiss said quietly. 

“Me either.” Hotch confirmed. 

Hotch’s attention was captured by a screen behind the counter - surveillance feed, showing several different places inside the store. There was one camera just outside the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, that camera was pointed at that ‘blind spot’ in the parking lot. 

Without asking permission, he raised the partition and walked around the counter, his eyes hyper-focused on the screen. 

“Can you get me this footage from a few hours ago?” He prompted toward the clerk. “The view of the parking lot. We need to see what L/N did after she left the store.” 

The clerk nodded and began typing things onto the keyboard, and Hotch prompted him to stop when he saw you appear on the footage. Prentiss came around the counter as well, leaving the three of them crowded in close to the small screen as they watched the past version of you. 

You walked across the parking lot - toward your car, a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You were making determined steps - until something stopped you. 

“The UnSub caught her attention.” Prentiss noted. 

Then - something entirely strange happened. While staring at the man off screen, you leaned against your car, and began ashing your cigarette, as if chatting idly with him. 

“He’s not using force.” Hotch thought aloud. “Do you think he’s got a gun trained on her?” 

“Maybe.” Prentiss hummed quietly. 

He was out of the frame, so it was only a guess. 

Then, after a few moments of this - you simply walked off. You walked in the direction he had been standing. 

“Did - did she just go with him willingly?” Prentiss gaped, entirely in shock. 

When she glanced over her shoulder, Hotch was gone. 

He stormed out into the parking lot, frantically gazing around. Prentiss followed him, chasing his chaotic energy. 

“Hotch!” She called out. “Hotch-!” 

“We need more camera angles! We need-” 

“Calm down.” She urged, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” He rasped. “Why would she go with him willingly? Why - why? Why would she?” He was frantic. “He must have threatened her. He must have-” 

They both didn’t want to think of the obvious. 

That you didn’t fear him. That - it hadn’t even been an abduction. 

“He must have threatened her.” Prentiss easily agreed. “She wouldn’t have gone with him otherwise.” 

They didn’t bring up the fact that you had a gun and plenty of training on how to use it. They didn’t bring up the fact that the profile said the UnSub couldn’t easily charm - he would have kidnapped you by force. 

Unless you were special. Unless he thought he could talk to you specifically for some reason. 

“Guys, what’s the news?” JJ asked, finally walking onto the scene. 

She hated the grave looks on Prentiss and Hotch’s faces. 

“I want you to put a press conference together.” Hotch said, straightening himself out and turning to her. “Make an appeal for witnesses. Tell them that there’s been a woman abducted in the area, but don’t tell them that L/N a Federal Agent. It could set the UnSub off if he believes that this abduction is being treated with a higher priority. If he feels a higher pressure from law enforcement, he might-” 

“Right.” JJ nodded. Hotch didn’t need to say the words in order for her to understand. “So: release her name and her photo, but act like she’s just a regular civilian?” 

Hotch nodded. “Exactly.” 

“If I get going now, I think I could still make the eleven o’clock news.” JJ said, rushing off with her cell pressed to her ear. 

“Let’s just hope that it brings Y/N home safely.” 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 8:03PM.

You felt an odd amount of relief having nicotine in your system again. 

This was the first time you had smoked a cigarette in years. You had quit the habit shortly after you joined the FBI Academy when one of your advisers warned you that it might cause you to fail the fitness test. And you felt like you should just knock the habit, seeing as the only reason you had taken it up was because of… him. 

But - all of this was so triggering. Being back in your same small shitty town. Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag. 

The murders. 

You sucked on the cigarette for dear life as you walked back to your car, and just as you were about to get in - the windows of the car open, inviting in the sweet summer air, the keys still inside because you did feel an odd amount of trust in your hometown - something captured your attention. 

“Y/N.” 

Hearing your name in that voice made you freeze on the spot. The warm breeze felt like ice against your skin as you took your hand off the door handle, turning toward him. 

“You’re lookin’ gorgeous as ever, darlin’.” 

“You.” You ground out the word with as much disdain as possible, hot rage boiling in your blood as you looked at him. “I should have known it was you.” 

He let out a sharp chuckle - a sound that made your throat tighten up. He flicked his tongue out across his teeth, grinning his terrible Cheshire grin at you. 

A hand instinctively went for your gun, and your palm hit an empty section of your belt. He let out another sharp chuckle when his eyes followed yours, making the same realization that you did. 

You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone. 

You wondered if you could dive through the open window before he could get to you. When he made a posturing move, brushing his unbuttoned plaid shirt away and revealing the gun he had strapped to his belt underneath - you realized he would shoot you if you moved too quickly. 

You were stuck. 

“Of course it’s me, baby.” He said, casually replying to your earlier words. “You had to know that I did all this for you. For us.” 

Giving into your fate, you propped yourself against the side of the car - trying desperately to steady your wobbling legs without making it look like you were doing so. You tapped your cigarette, spilling some of the ash before you brought it to your lips once again. 

“I missed you like hell.” He told you with a snakeskin grin. 

“I didn’t miss you.” You bitterly fired back. “Not for a fucking second.” 

“Guess I made it difficult to miss me, huh?” He said, cocky as ever. “With my frequent correspondence and all?” 

“You know what I meant.” You fired back.

You glared at him sharply but didn’t say anything more, afraid that he would whip the gun out and shoot you. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, something that sounded utterly sarcastic. 

“Ooh, darlin’ that’s harsh.” He said. “That would almost hurt. If I didn’t know the truth.” 

You wanted to argue. You took in another large drag to help hold your tongue. You knew the results of arguing with him - it wasn’t worth it. 

“So… I think you know how this goes.” He announced. “You can come with me now. Or… I can go get another girl.” 

“No more girls.” You told him. “I’m here now. You won. Whatever business you have - it’s with me.” 

You stamped out your cigarette as you walked toward him, and your phone began to ring on the front seat as his truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 7:26PM.

“Hello! Everyone, listen up.” Hotch called everyone to attention as the local police continued to filter in, most of them standing around with cups of coffee in hand or notebooks out, ready to take notes. “We’re ready to give the profile.” 

“Yes, and please keep in mind that this is just a general set of guidelines describing the suspect.” Rossi said. “This is not a concrete list of things you should be looking for. A profile is more useful in the elimination of suspects, rather than the inclusion of them.” 

He then turned to Derek, who began reciting the profile that the team had put together so far. 

“This UnSub, or Unknown Subject, is most likely a white male in his thirties to forties.” Morgan explained. “He drives an American made vehicle, something large enough to conceal and transport victims, and something that has off-road capability in order to get to the more secluded areas where some of the bodies were found. So think trucks, heavy duty vans, anything with thick treads on the tires and a large payload. And his vehicle will most likely be in a more discreet color. This guy won’t be driving around in something flashy. He’ll be in something that blends into the background, like a beige or black truck.” 

“So what?” One of the local cops piped up. “We put out an APB for every single heavy duty black truck in the area? This is the south, do you have any idea how many people around here drive a truck? Especially ones driven by men in their forties.” 

“There’s more.” Hotch noted, looking toward you. 

“This UnSub likely believes that he is dating these women in some capacity before he kills them.” You explained. “He has left scraps of poetry at the scenes, pages of romance novels - several of the victims had wine in their stomachs or burns from candle wax on their skin. And it’s highly likely that he turns violent when the women reject his advances, or don’t live up to the fictionalized relationship he has made up about them in his mind.” 

“How does that help us?” Someone asked. 

“Well, it’s very likely that he frequents the same hunting grounds.” Rossi explained. “We encourage you to go to local bars, and nightclubs, even gyms or cafes and pass out the profile to women who fit this type.” He said, motioning toward the pictures of the other victims. “He will be on the hunt again soon, and he has a very narrow hunting ground, living in such a lowly populated area. So we might be able to catch him off guard if his potential victims have the profile as well.” 

“This man is romantic, but he’s not charming.” You added on. “He isn’t sociable. He’s very cocky, very self-centered. He believes that he is God’s gift to women, and he has a very fractured sense of reality in general. If women reject him in everyday interactions, he will get noticeably irritated, and even violent. So he will be remembered as an unpleasant person in most women’s stories.” 

“This UnSub most likely has an inside knowledge of law enforcement.” Reid stated. “But, because he has a very antisocial personality, he wouldn’t do well working with the public. We currently have our analyst combing through files of those who flunked out of the police academy or live in the area and are retired from the military in some capacity. We believe that he might have even been in prison for an unrelated crime or institutionalized at some point, giving him a close look at the inner workings of law enforcement, and also attributing to the large break between the first two crimes.” 

Reid took a breath, and then continued on. 

“He was knowledgeable enough to purposefully dump one of the bodies across state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case, but it was just one of the bodies, and it was dumped in a very well trackied area where it would be found. So that leaves a heavy insistence that he was fed-up with the local police not giving his case enough attention or - simply not being smart enough to keep up with him.” He explained. 

“He is very cocky.” Prentiss added on. “Incredibly over-confident. He is a narcissist to his core, and he believes that he will never be caught unless he wants to be. He thinks that he has an intricate cat-and-mouse game with law enforcement, and he can go off the grid and disappear at any time that he wants.” 

“Well… isn’t that true?” One of the cops asked. “I mean, the guy’s been at it for years and we still haven’t caught him. There’s no DNA, no real leads.” 

Hotch hummed, nodding. And then he walked over to the evidence board and motioned to the pictures of the two most recent victims - barely recognizable compared to the shining, smiling photos their families had provided. 

“We believe that he’s decompensating.” Hotch explained. “He is growing more violent toward each victim, which means that he is getting more sloppy - eventually, he will go off-book. He will break his routine in some way, and that will be the moment he’ll give us something to catch him with.” 

“So… you’re just waiting for him to kill again so you can actually catch the guy?” Someone asked sharply. 

“No.” You easily replied. “We’re praying it doesn’t come to that.” 

“Thank you everyone.” Hotch said, clearing his throat, giving an unconscious signal for everyone to disperse. “That’ll be all for now.” 

Everyone easily fell under his authority, and meandered back to what they had been doing before, now armed with the profile and ready to distribute it to members of the public, to the potential victims. 

You had a harshly, sickly feeling in your stomach as you gathered some of your files. It was the same feeling that had been turning your guts into knots since you had arrived back in Madison for the first time in years. Your eye accidentally caught the evidence board - the tall, intimidating wall lined with the gruesome photos of all the women. 

Women who looked strangely like you. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. All of them horribly brutalized and left for dead. All of them terrorized, tortured right up until their last moments.  

“Hey.” 

JJ’s voice snapped you out of your swirling dark cloud of thoughts, drawing your eyes away from the evidence board with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You huffed out a harsh breath as you let her guide you, turning around to face the blonde woman as she stared you down with a distinct look of concern knit across her features. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. “I’ve never seen you like this.” 

She had a point. You had been doing this job for some time. You had gone to the FBI Academy straight out of college, after getting a degree in criminal forensics. And none of it ever bothered you. You had learned about the study of blood spatter and the decomposition of bodies on live body farms, and you never flinched. 

But this case - it was getting to you. 

It was likely the first time anybody on the team had ever seen you so disturbed. 

“I’m fine.” You lied, trying to shrug off her touch. 

“Come on.” JJ sighed in return. “I don’t need to be a profiler to figure out that was a big fat lie.” 

You rolled your eyes at this. 

“You’re so brilliant.” You let out a sigh of your own, and put down your files on the nearby conference room table. You stretched out your back, deciding that you would give her an inch, hoping that she wouldn’t take a mile. “I’m freaked out. So what? Doesn’t everybody have room for a bad day?” 

“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course, you can have a bad day.” Her lips pursed, and you knew there was more coming. “Is - is it anything more than that?” 

“I’m tired.” You lied again, hoping she wouldn’t call you out on it this time. “It’s been - what? More than twenty hours since we landed. For these guys it’s been years, searching for this bastard. I wanna catch him.” 

“We will.” JJ assured you, sounding rather dull in her declaration. 

“I’m gonna drive down the street and grab an energy drink or something.” You announced, grabbing your blazer off a nearby chair and putting it on. Not that you would need a jacket with the southern weather - but your cash and your keys were in the pockets. 

“I thought you quit Redbull.” She chuckled. 

“It’s been one of those days.” You replied, shaking your head as you walked out of the room. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 5:13PM.

“There’s still one thing that’s buggin’ the hell out of me.” Morgan announced as he walked back into the room with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. 

“That is?” You posed, looking up from the stack of personal files - potential suspects - that you were reading in order to engage him in the conversation. 

“What is with the two year hiatus from this guy?” He said, motioning to the board. 

The first victim had been abducted and killed all the way back in the summer of ‘99, but none of the other victims matched up until a missing person from September of 2001. And from there, the killings picked up in frequency - and the killer had taken over twenty six victims in and around Madison up until now. 

“It is weird.” You commented. “Usually after the first kill is when an UnSub is the most hungry for more. After that first taste for violence.” 

Morgan raised a brow at your strange choice of words and you shrugged it off. 

“Maybe he was hospitalized.” Reid said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to make this comment, studying the board with his own intense expression. “Institutionalized? Maybe he was arrested for something completely unrelated, like - drugs, outstanding traffic violations?” 

“That’s helpful.” You sighed. 

“It could be.” Reid replied, sipping his own coffee. “I mean, we theorized that this UnSub has pre-existing knowledge of law enforcement - if he was in prison, maybe he was reading up on the law while he was in there? Who has closer knowledge of the law than ex-cons?” 

“Good point.” Morgan nodded. “I’ll call Garcia and have her widen the search.” 

“She is gonna love that.” You mumbled under your breath, already frustrated with the large pile of potential suspects you had to go through. 

Morgan took out his cell and walked into the other room, and you heard a distant ‘hey mama!’ as he chirped to Garcia on the other end. 

Then, you heard another voice that was all too familiar to you. 

“See, you’ve all just been working so hard, I thought you could use some sustenance!” 

It was your mother. 

You rushed out of your seat to find her in the middle of the bullpen, handing out muffins from a large basket that she had in her hand. 

It wasn’t entirely surprising to you, but it made your stomach sink. She was too much of a social butterfly for your liking. She knew about the last time you had been in this police station, she talked too much. No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone. 

“See, that one’s blueberry, you like blueberry?” She was chatting idly, being her usual overly social self. 

“Yes, thank you so much Ms. L/N,” Prentiss smiled as your mother pushed more food into her hands. 

“Oh please, call me-” 

You knew that you must have looked like a storm, walking toward her with a scowl on your face. 

“Ma!” You barked, much harsher than you meant to, causing her to look up at you abruptly. “Ma? What are you doing here?” 

“Well see, you’ve been here all day, and you’ve been working so hard, so I made dinner for you and your friends,” She grinned, motioning toward a large tinfoil tray filled with mac and cheese that she had placed onto one of the desks next to a stack of paper plates and plastic forks. Naturally, a chunk of it was already missing. 

You wanted to scream when Reid walked over and began scooping out a portion for himself. 

“Ma, they’re not my friends, they’re my co-workers.” You said, exasperation ripe in your voice. 

You knew that this, too, ended up sounding much harsher than you had intended. As if you didn’t think of these people as friends. But you couldn’t stand the woman babying you. It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby. 

“I’m an adult now, and-” You continued on, and she cut you off. 

“Oh yes, yes.” She nodded, reaching out to pinch your cheek in an utterly frustrating way. “Your co-workers.” 

“Please, Ma.” You sighed. “You can’t be here right now. This is a police station, not a bake sale.” 

“She can stay for a few minutes, can’t she?” Prentiss grinned, peeling the wrapper off her muffin. “We can take a break for dinner. I wanna hear some childhood stories about you.” 

Reid looked up eagerly at this, and you glared at both of them. 

“Oh, you should hear about the time she painted her face blue with the paint from-” Your mother began to tell a delightful embarrassing story, but you cut her off. 

“No.” You said sharply. “I’m sorry, but we have work to do. Important work. Once we actually catch the guy, I’ll bring everyone by the house for tea and cookies and you can show everyone my naked baby pictures, the whole nine yards. Just - not now.” 

You unceremoniously ripped the basket of muffins out of her hands and placed them on the desk beside the tray of mac and cheese, and she began to argue with you, calling you rude, telling you that she had raised you with better manners while you ushered her out the door. 

Prentiss and Reid exchanged a particular, concerned look as they watched you and your mother argue through the glass doors of the precinct. 

“Now what do you think that was all about?” Emily asked quietly. 

“For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Georgia Highway 72 - Madison, GA. 1:32PM.

“This is new.” Morgan noted as the two of you walked away from the SVU, approaching the dumpsite where the latest victim’s body had been found. “This guy doesn’t usually dump bodies out in the open. You think he was in a rush?” 

The two of you had been sent to check it out while Hotch and Prentiss spoke to the family, and the others went over evidence from the many pre-existing cases at the station. 

“Not likely.” You replied. “Preliminary report says there’s still no DNA, no skid marks from his tires, no shoe prints. He’s not getting sloppy.” You felt a sickly wave of vomit splash up as you looked at the woman - her ankles sticking out of the tall grass just off the edge of the highway, where she had been left, entirely visible for anybody passing by to see. “This was a present. Like a fuckin’ cat leaving a dead mouse on the porch. He wanted us to find her. And he wanted us to find her quickly.” 

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Morgan noted, tentatively stepping into the grass and gently moving the long spokes of greenery back to get a better look at the victim. “He’s definitely escalating.” 

You crouched down to get a better look yourself, and you had to agree. 

Her face was almost entirely caved in, but it appeared to be from a series of blunt hits, and not from a singular swing with a heavy object. Between the pre-mortem swelling and the post-mortem rage, where he had continued to mutilate her even after her death, she was practically unrecognizable from the photo that her family had provided you with. The only reason the team had been able to confirm her identity for sure was that she had been reported missing, and she had been found wearing a unique custom charm bracelet that her parents could confirm belonged to her. 

You wished that you could guarantee they would never see her body in this state. 

“What’s that?” Morgan wondered aloud. 

You hummed back in confusion. 

Before you could wonder any further about what he meant, he reached out and gently pried open the victim’s mouth, fishing out a small piece of plastic that he had seen sticking out from the corner of her swollen, bruised lips. He had to fight to get it out of her stiff, death rigored body, but when he was able to - a small plastic bag came out of her mouth. 

A small plastic bag containing a piece of white paper. 

“What the hell?” Morgan mumbled quietly. 

Naturally, he opened the bag and took out the paper, and you looked on with nervous curiosity as he read what was on the note. 

“You are the stars hidden by clouds.” He read aloud. “I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. Your shine peeks out and reaches me in the depths of my soul. Tell me your arms are long enough to reach me across oceans. Tell me someday we will be together, somehow, some way. Tell me that this love we have can survive being together as well as we’ve survived being apart. Tell me we are more than the chasm of our divide.” 

Bile splashed up in your throat. 

You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it. 

You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake. 

“Hmm.” Morgan looked over the paper thoughtfully. “It’s another page ripped out of a book. Just like the other one. I’ll call Garcia and have her look it up, maybe-” 

“You don’t have to.” You said, hoping that your throat wasn’t too painfully constricted around your words. “It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.” 

Morgan easily saw the haunted look behind your eyes - the years old terror that you were having a much harder time suppressing now. 

Oddly enough, it was a feeling that he knew well. Perhaps that’s why he saw it in you so easily. 

“You alright?” He bothered to ask, even though he knew the answer was ‘no’. 

“I’m fine.” You lied. “We should bring this back to everyone else.” 

You rushed away from the crime scene like a bat out of hell, and even though he knew he should have pressed further - he let you. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 10:08AM.

“Good morning, y’all.” 

The BAU was greeted by Chief Dalton, the Madison County Chief of Police, as you all filed into the small police department. 

“You can set up in the conference room over there, I hope we got y’all everything you need.” He said, flashing a warm, welcoming smile. 

“This looks fine, thank you.” JJ said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” She pointed to him, and he nodded in return - of course, rather than shaking hands. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Rossi, and Agent L/N. Our Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Morgan will be here later - they wanted to go and interview some of the families of the victims, get some more background information.” 

“L/N?” He motioned toward you, his eyes becoming fixated on you as you set down your bag and lifted one of the lids off the boxes to get a glance at some of the files. “That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?” 

“Oh yes, I am,” You grinned at him, stepping forward and giving him a handshake, to which he grinned back widely. “I grew up here. This is actually my first time back in years.” 

“Well, welcome home.” He said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“Me too.” You easily agreed. 

You thought that would be the end of it, until: 

“You know I hardly recognized you. Such a pretty face, but the last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp.” He remarked, giving a pained chuckle. 

Your stomach swelled with anxiety, and it felt like a pure balloon of concrete sitting inside of you. You felt all the eyes in the room on you - Rossi, JJ, Emily, Spencer - all of them staring you down as this man aired your dirty laundry like it was as casual as the weather report. 

“You came through here - what was it, the summer of ‘99? I’ll never forget that assault report. I’m surprised you can still see out of that right eye of yours, with the way-” 

“Coffee?” You cut him off when you managed to find your voice, rushing to change the subject and praying he would get the hint. “Where can I get a coffee around here? Long flight. And we’ve had an early morning. Long flight, going over the case.” 

You didn’t even realize you were tripping over your own words, repeating yourself in a rush to fill the air so he wouldn’t speak about the past anymore. 

“Oh, it’s right through there. In the break room.” He said, motioning vaguely behind him. 

“Would you mind showing me, please?” 

You knew it was cowardly, but you were now desperate to escape your colleagues, and wanted to drag the Chief away before he spilled anything else from his loose lips. 

He escorted you out of the room and it was only a mere moment before conversation ensued about the strange thing that had just happened. 

“Am I gonna be the first person to say ‘what the hell’?” Rossi asked, looking around to his teammates, who all had equally shocked and confused expressions. 

“It’s a small town. These people don’t exactly understand secrecy. Or tact.” JJ sighed. 

“Yeah, but why would Y/N keep that a secret from us?” Spencer asked, frowning. “If she was assaulted-” 

“Yeah, in the summer of ‘99.” Emily pressed. “That was a long time ago. Have you told everyone on the team every little detail about your life from ten years ago?” 

“Eight years.” Spencer easily corrected her. 

“Whatever.” Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to profile her. We’re here to catch another scumbag and leave.” 

There seemed to be a resounding nod at this.

“If she wants to tell us about what happened, she will.” Rossi added on.  

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Outskirts of Madison - Madison, GA. 9:52AM.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” 

He had a perfect view of you through the scope of his gun. 

Of course, he would never hurt you. There was no bullet in that gun that was intended for you. This was just the perfect way to see you. Up close and personal. Just the way he liked it. 

This was the first time he had seen you in so long. You wore your makeup differently now - your hair was a bit different. But you were still his girl. 

“You’re gonna love the present I left for ya.” 

You spoke his language - violence. 

You wrote your life in blood, just like he did. 

You were perfect. His perfect girl. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Inside the BAU Jet - Somewhere Above America. 7:12AM.

“So, the ME dates eight of these victims from within the last year alone?” Prentiss questioned, looking over some of the files on the table in front of her. 

“Well, it’s difficult to tell with the soil erosion and the heavy rain that the area had recently, but they are significantly less decomposed than the others.” JJ explained. 

“What I don’t understand,” Morgan noted. “Why would he give up his gig now? I mean, twenty four victims in a mass grave in the middle of the woods, and he leaves a twenty-fifth victim in the middle of the road, clearly intending for police to find it. With a damn note attached, giving up the exact coordinates of his mass dumpsite. Why?”

“It is strange.” Reid agreed. “Typically, whenever killers have contact with the police, it is to taunt them for their inability to get caught, believing that the police are stupid and they as killers are invincible.” He said. Naturally, this rolled into a rant as more facts came to mind about the subject. 

“Serial killer Dennis Rader, also known as the BTK killer, standing for Blind, Torture, Kill - he taunted police with letters over a period of three decades, between 1974 and 1991, each one that he sent to the local police simply saying ‘good luck hunting’.” Reid explained. “Occasionally, he would send them graphic descriptions of how he had posed the bodies at each crime scene. And he was only caught when a floppy disc he sent to a local television station was traced back to a computer that he had used at his church.” 

Reid laughed at this revelation, finding it amusing. With all eyes staring at him, he reached the realization that this wasn’t helpful to the case at hand - and then he easily clammed up. 

“So, this UnSub gives up the dumpsite because… he’s feeling remorseful? He wants to get caught?” Rossi theorized. 

“The level of violence across these recent victims has no indication of remorse.” You replied. “One of the bodies found at the dumpsite was missing over half her teeth, and had all ten of her fingers broken in multiple places. Seemingly pre-mortem.” 

There was a heavy silence at this. 

“Perhaps he’s feeling ignored,” Hotch posed. “He feels like his crimes aren’t being well covered by the media and he wants glory. He finally wants recognition for what he’s done.” 

“Well, wouldn’t he have sent some kind of manifesto or another letter to the police?” Morgan posed. “And it seems like the guy went through a whole lot of trouble for a long time, trying not to get caught. He buried them out in the woods, secluded. Wrapped them in plastic, scrubbed the bodies clean so there’s absolutely no DNA. Doesn’t seem like someone looking for glory to me.”  

“Not to mention that he wrote the coordinates for the dumpsite on the back of a page ripped out of a novel.” Rossi said, squinting down at one of the files - a close up forensic photo that had been sent over by the local police department. 

Prentiss held out her hand, and Rossi handed over the photo, and then she began reading the words off the page aloud. 

“-I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy, but-” 

“-but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” You finished the quote before she could, the words flashing through your mind with a sickly twist in your gut. It was all too familiar to you, in the worst way. “It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.” 

Everyone fixated on you with a strange gaze, wondering how you knew this off the top of your head. Especially when usually this would only be something that Reid would be able to recite so perfectly by heart. 

“Maybe he thinks that he’s romancing these women?” Prentiss theorized, trying to move on from the strange moment. 

“That’s plausible.” Hotch agreed. “When we land, Morgan and I will go interview some of the families. JJ, get us their contacts. I want to know if any of these women had problems with an ex boyfriend or even a bad date whom they rejected. It could be someone they once viewed as a potential romantic partner that went horribly wrong.” 

JJ nodded at this, going to look through her files for the information. 

“This level of torture - it’s likely a substitute for sexual gratification.” Morgan theorized, looking at the crime scene photos one again. “Maybe he is romancing these women, but in his mind, this is the ultimate form of romance? Having all of his conquests together in death - it’s a declaration of what a casanova he is. In his fractured world.” 

“It still doesn’t explain why he gave up the dumpsite to the police.” Prentiss argued. 

“Men like to brag about their sexual exploits.” Rossi said, nodding toward Morgan. “If these women are his conquests, in his mind, then he wants his manliness, his accomplishments, to be appreciated by other men.” 

Prentiss sharply rolled her eyes at this. 

“Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:15AM.

JJ stood at the front of the room, ready to present the newest case to everyone. 

“Last night, a body was discovered on the backroads of South Carolina, about five miles outside of the town of Delph. She was found naked, mutilated. Heavy bruising all over her body that insinuates the killer kept her and tortured her for days. Final cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma from multiple hits to the head, but she also had several shallow stab wounds across her body, seemingly from some kind of hunting knife with a rough blade.” 

JJ explained, beginning to present the case as she clicked the small remote, causing images of the crime scene to pop up on the large screen in the room. 

“The victim - now identified as Ashley Prembrooke, hadn’t even been reported missing. She left her parents house in Madison, Georgia, about three days ago to drive back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina. When she didn’t show up on time, her roommate assumed that she was staying at home for a few extra days. Her father has cancer, so she wanted to be there for him.” 

There seemed to be a particularly dark aura in the room at this news. 

“Did the killer know that she wouldn’t be reported missing, or did he just snatch her up by chance?” Morgan asked. 

“Her car was found abandoned at a rest stop a few miles from the border of Georgia.” JJ explained. “So… it seems to be random.” 

“Well, I hate to ask this,” Rossi said. “But why are we being called out for just one body?” 

“That’s the thing.” JJ sighed. 

She clicked the clicker again, and several close-up photos appeared. Photos of the victim’s mutilated body - among the harsh bruising on her torso, there was a piece of white paper, partially stained with blood. It had been folded and stapled into her flesh. 

“The victim was found with this page… stapled into her skin.” JJ said, clearly finding the words disturbing to speak aloud. “Written on the back, was a set of coordinates. Local police discovered that these coordinates lead to a random patch of woods, about ten miles outside of Madison, Georgia.” 

JJ queued more pictures onto the screen. It was those very woods - overturned dirt. And more than a dozen bodies, wrapped in plastic among the soil. 

“It was the site of a mass grave with twenty-four other victims - all women around the same age, with the most recent ones all having the same body type, the same hair color, same general makeup as Ashley Prembrooke.” 

“He has a type.” Hotch stated the obvious. 

“And for some reason, he tipped the police off to his hiding place.” JJ reminded them all. 

“Twenty four victims?” Prentiss questioned, clearly shocked by this number. 

“That’s what they’ve found so far. The decomposition on some of the bodies seems to go back as far as a decade, but it’s difficult to date them exactly.” JJ replied. 

“So… the guy is experienced, hasn’t been caught in years, and he hands over his honey pot to the cops? Is he trying to get caught? Is he feeling guilty?” Rossi posed. 

“No, not with that level of violence. There’s no remorse there.” Morgan replied. 

“He dumped Ashley Prembrooke over state lines. We could be looking at somebody with an incredibly wide hunting ground who gave up one of many dumpsites as a way to taunt police.” Hotch theorized. 

“That doesn’t seem to be the case.” JJ explained. “So far, eight of the most recent victims have been matched up with missing persons reports, all of them women from Madison. All within the last year alone. It seems like he targeted Ashley because she was from Madison - that’s his comfort zone.” 

When the pictures of the missing women - now confirmed dead, murdered violently, popped up on screen, your throat tightened. 

You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them. You had seen them cheer proudly at high school pep rallies - you had known them lively and bright. And now they were bones rotting in the soil, taken by some monster. 

Beyond that, there was an alarming trend. 

They looked like you. You couldn’t deny that. Same hair color, same body type, same skin tone. 

And they were from your hometown. 

Between this, and the letter, the morning was getting to be too much for you. You wanted to believe it was all a series of terrible coincidences, but… 

Looking across the roundtable at you, Reid was the only one who saw that sickly look come over your face. He was desperate to know what was troubling you. 

“Reid?” Hotch got his attention, finding it strange that the overly talkative man was quiet this morning. “You’ll work the geographical profile?” 

“Yes.” Reid nodded, finally taking his eyes off you. “It’s unusual for the killer to hunt wider than a five hundred mile radius from home. So it’s likely that he lives, works, and operates all within Madison.” 

“Good. We could be looking at a copy-cat who knew about the previous killer’s dumpsite, or… something else entirely. But we need to get on the ground there and find out.” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

Everyone dispersed from the table when Hotch finalized with this, and you found yourself much dizzier than you realized as you tried to stand. As everyone moved to their desks to gather their things, you moved to the counter to get a coffee - hoping to calm your nerves. 

“Y/N.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Reid’s voice came from behind you - your own blood was pumping in your ears, and seemingly, he had snuck up behind you. But his usually quiet footsteps simply couldn’t be heard beyond the nagging thump of your own anxiety. 

“What?” You barked back, knowing it was far too harsh. 

“Are - are you alright?” He asked, hesitant to bother you with the question. 

“I’m fine.” You lied as you dumped the sugar packets into your cup, your shaking hands accidentally spilling some across the counter top. 

“Are you sure?” Reid pressed. 

You let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him, crossing your arms heavily over your chest. 

“What?” You said the word again, sternly, glaring at him. 

All he did was give you a soft, understanding expression in return. 

You hated it. 

You hated how he was so open - it was almost horrifying, how you could have easily told him what was bothering you. 

Sweet, accepting, understanding Reid. 

If you told him the truth, he probably would have told you some statistic that he found comforting. It would have been sweet, coming from him. But then, he would have been looking at you with those eyes all damn day, holding pity in his heart and not truly focusing on the work that needed to get done. 

“Can you look at the shit we see every single day and always be okay with it?” 

You easily made up an excuse, pretending you were rattled by the crime scene photos, even though this murder was no more graphic in nature than any other you had been subjected to seeing recently. 

“I’m human. So what?” 

Reid studied your face carefully. He saw guilt dancing in your eyes - the way you gently bit your lip was your tell for lying, that much he knew from playing many rounds of poker with you on the plane rides home. 

But he felt that simply nagging you more wouldn’t get the truth out of you. Not right now. 

“Okay.” He acquiesced. “I know it’s hard. If you ever need someone to talk to-” 

You stormed off, accidentally slamming into his shoulder on the way along in your haste to escape the conversion. Reid heavily eyed the cup of coffee that you had left cooling on the counter before he turned and left himself. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:04AM.

You walked into the bullpen with your bag on your arm, sipping a strong coffee in a travel mug you had brought from home. 

“You look tired.” Emily commented as you walked over to your desk. “Late night?” 

You moaned in reply, not yet ready to let go of nursing your coffee mug, taking a few more long gulps as you took the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slung it into your chair. 

“Last night, the fire alarm in my building went off at 3am.” You told her, finally surrendering the mug and putting it down on your desk. “I was out of bed in a panic, barely awake, went into the hallway to evacuate - and the sprinklers had gone off. So I ended up standing outside for more than an hour in my little jammies, soaking wet, and it turns out - some teenager from the third floor pulled the alarm because he was having an argument with his mom. He didn’t want to go to summer school.” 

“Yikes.” Derek commented. “Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call. And you can bring your little jammies.” He told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes, knowing that flirting was his default. “As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.” 

That almost made it sound more appealing. You did love that dog. 

“You know, a study was done at the University of New Hampshire that concluded that twenty to thirty minute windows of sleep actually optimize the human brain for functionality the most.” Spencer added on, leaning back in his chair at his desk as he explained this. 

“The schedule of a ten to twelve hour work day, followed by an eight hour sleep period has only been instituted in society as a commonality since the industrial revolution. And it doesn’t actually flow with how the human brain has been optimized by evolution. Before that, most people optimized their lives around a wake-sleep period of three to four hours, taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening. And most communities functioned around people sleeping and waking at vastly different times rather than everyone having one collective morning routine.” He concluded, giving you a smile. 

You found his rambling fascinating, but you found it ironic that you could barely process half of what he had said - because you were too tired. 

“Well, unfortunately we can’t all live in villages and pick berries for a living.” Emily remarked with a yawn. 

The conversation shifted when Penelope walked in, and gave you a bright smile. 

“Good morning, pretty girl.” She greeted you. 

“Mornin’, Penny G.” You replied.

“This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago, stamped express. I figured you’d want to have eyes on it as soon as possible.” She told you, handing you a very average looking white envelope. 

You weren’t sure why, but it invoked a strange feeling in your gut. 

The moment that you saw the handwriting on your front - the script that made up your name. 

The way he had written it. 

Bile rose up in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it back down. All eyes in the room immediately knew that something was wrong. 

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied. 

You didn’t even want to open it, but bitter curiosity was eating at you. 

How the hell had he found your work address? He knew where you worked now? 

“I’m gonna - bathroom.” You mumbled an excuse as you rushed back out of the room again, practically fleeing toward the bathroom, leaving all eyes on your shadow. 

In particular, Spencer’s eyes followed you hard as you retreated. He wondered how a simple letter could upset you so much. 

You secluded yourself safely in a locked stall, your heart thumping in your chest as you began to tear into the letter. The envelope turned to sinew in your hands with your anxious inability to open it properly. In a few moments, you pulled out the piece of paper with a shaking hand, and dropped the shredded envelope onto the floor. 

You barely managed to read its contents through tearful eyes. 

Lover, 

Fate has sent us on such different paths, but I will be with you again soon. 

I still miss you every single day. I remember your smell. 

I know none of the men you have spent your recent years with can measure up to me, which is why I have set you on the path back to me. 

“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” 

-Daniel 

Your chest caved in when you realized that there was something taped to the corner of the page. 

You recognized the piece of dark cloth in an instant. 

It was from that night. He had kept it. 

You couldn’t keep the bile down that time. You turned to the toilet and puked up a horrible swirl of black coffee and half a toaster waffle that you had scarfed down while getting dressed for work. 

When you had just barely caught your breath, you heard the door to the bathroom creak open. 

“Y/N?” Emily called out your name. “Are you in here?” 

You didn’t answer. 

Instead, you heaved a large glob of putrid spit into the toilet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice now coming from right outside the stall you were in. 

“I’m fine.” You handed out that lie, not knowing how many times in the next day you were going to be saying it. 

“You don’t sound fine.” Emily told you. “I thought I heard you throwing up.” 

“Bad sushi.” You lied. “Stopped by the corner store on my way home. You know I never cook. Food poisoning is usually 50/50 with that kind of shit. Just another thing to add to my great night, right?” 

You let out a sour, sarcastic chuckle, but Emily didn’t follow suit. 

You knew that you would have to face her sooner or later, so you wiped your mouth again and then turned and unlocked the stall door. 

“I’ll be fine.” You told her, throwing her a very fake smile. 

“Yeah.” She said, tone flat, entirely disbelieving. “Would it have anything to do with that?” 

She motioned to the letter, which you had almost forgotten was crumbled up in your fist. 

“Can I see?” 

You didn’t even consider how suspicious it would be, but as her hand moved toward the paper, you ripped it up and tossed it into the toilet, grabbing the envelope up off the floor and tossing it into the mess of paper and vomit as well before you flushed it all down. 

“It’s nothing.” You grunted out, another very poor lie coming from your lips as you exited the stall and moved toward the sinks. “It’s garbage.” 

You turned on the tap and leaned down, taking in a mouthful of water to rinse out your mouth while she watched you with careful, piercing eyes. 

“It’s kind of pathetic that you’re trying so hard to bullshit me.” Emily remarked. “Not just because we’re both profilers, but because it’s so painfully obvious that something is wrong.” 

You swirled the water around your mouth, rinsing it out, and then spit into the sink before you turned the tap off. When you rose up to your full height, you caught Emily’s eye in the mirror - pitying. You hated it. 

It was that kind of pity that held you back from telling her the truth. 

She reached over to the dispenser and got you some of the paper towel, handing it to you as she spoke again. 

“You know you can tell me what’s bothering you, right?” She said, reaching up to put a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

There was a small, quiet moment - the words edged on your tongue. 

You truly considered just coming out with it. 

But then- 

A harsh knock on the door cut through the silence. 

“Y/N? Em?” JJ poked her head in through the door, clearly looking for the two of you. When she spotted you, she continued on. “I need everybody at the roundtable in five.” 

“Let’s get going.” You said, wiping your mouth and then crumpling the paper towel to toss it into the garbage can. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention. 

After being given a shoebox full of strange letters by your mother, he had finally pieced it together. He finally realized the secret you had been hiding - the thing that put you right in this killer’s crosshairs. 

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.” 

He motioned to something in his hands - it was a worn-out old shoebox, something that made everyone curious and confused. 

“What the hell is that?” Prentiss asked. 

“Come on.” Reid ushered everyone into the conference room, and once the whole team was gathered, he shut the door. 

He opened the box and spilled it into the middle of the table, revealing a flood of hand-written letters. JJ stood back in shock, Hotch observed carefully and silently as usual, and Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss began to pick through them while Reid explained his revelation. 

“Y/N’s mother gave me these.” He explained. “All of them are addressed to Y/N, and from what I can see, they’re pretty much weekly, and they go back as far as 1999.” 

“When the first murder occurred.” Morgan easily pieced the two things together. 

“Not only that,” Reid added on. “The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” He said, pointing to the picture of the first known victim on the evidence board. “And I think the first letter, or one of the earliest, is from July of ‘99. At least.” 

“So - so she was having correspondence with the killer?” JJ questioned. “What? Was he in prison? Are you saying that Y/N is involved with this in some way?” 

“No-” Reid rushed to correct this assumption, and Morgan cut him off. 

“She was at Quantico when the latest victims were killed. Even if the guy has a partner, I really don’t take her as bein’ responsible for this.” He said. 

“Plus, these don’t exactly read as love letters.” Pretniss pointed out, her expression growing disturbed as she read what the killer had written from the letter in her hands. 

“-every day I dream of you, my love. I remember the way you felt underneath me - clawing for your life, desperate. I remember the way you screamed. Tasting your blood for the first time made me feel alive again. I hope the bruises meant as much to you as they did to me.” 

“The use of ‘I’ language denotes self importance - the author has a natural narcissistic personality disorder, but he pretends that it’s a fulfilling two-way relationship, when naturally it’s a fixation on someone who could never truly live up to his fantasies.” Reid explained. 

The room fell silent as the reality of it hit everyone. You were the target of someone truly dangerous. Someone who was going to kill you when you didn’t perform the fantasy that he had in mind for you. 

“She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.” 

“These killings aren’t someone having separate, individual fantasized relationships with each victim; this is about the killer repeating the same relationship over and over again, performing the same ritual killing in order to relive the same fantasy over again, projecting it onto different women of the same type.” Hotch said, coming to the realization as he stared at the different victims photos on the evidence board with a firm look on his face. “He’s been in love with the same woman in his mind for years, but nobody can live up to the real thing. That’s why he gave up the dump site. Because he wanted to lure her here. He wanted the FBI here, because he wanted to get L/N here.” 

“Okay, but the bigger question is: why L/N? What was the incident that got him fixated on her in the first place?” Rossi questioned, asking what was on everyone’s mind. 

JJ’s face was struck with horrible realization, and she ran to the door, ripping it open. She screamed the Chief’s name at the top of her lungs until she got the man’s attention, looking entirely crazed to everyone else in the station. Naturally, she didn’t care. He bustled over, scurrying toward her urgent voice, spilling coffee on himself in the process. 

“Chief.” JJ breathed out. “You said that Y/N came through the station, and she was beaten up the last time you saw her - when was that?” 

“Oh, I dunno?” He creased his brows with concentration, trying to remember. “About ‘98? ‘99?” 

“Did she file a report about the incident?” JJ asked. 

“Yeah.” The Chief replied. “It was a break-in. Poor thing. Summer vacation, her mother wasn’t home, off with the church on a retreat hittin’ the bingo halls up in Texas. She said that she never saw the attacker, though. He was wearin’ a ski-mask.” 

There was a silent exchange among the group that said they knew the truth - you had seen the attacker, you knew him. It’s why you had gone with him willingly this time. But you hadn’t told the police the truth back then because you had been too scared. 

“Can you get me that report?” JJ asked. 

After too many anxious minutes, the Chief came back with an old file in hand, and JJ snatched it out of his hands with a mumbled thank you before she shut the door in his face once again. She placed it down on the table among the mess of letters, and flipped it open. 

“Oh my god.” Emily gasped when she saw the photos inside. 

There was a spread of old polaroid photos, pinned to the sides of the file. They were almost too graphic for the team to look at - one showing the damage to your face; both of your eyes bruised, one of them entirely swollen shut. Scratches, deep gashes, harsh bruising all over your body. You were wearing a dark cotton tee shirt with patches ripped out of it - as if someone had been clawing at you and nearly ripped the clothing off your body to keep you from getting away. 

“This wasn’t a burglary.” Derek mumbled, frowning as he picked up one of the photos and inspected it closer. 

“Get Garcia on the line,” Hotch told JJ. 

She dialed the tech’s number on the conference hub, having to unbury the small bit of technology from some papers before she did it. It rang for a few moments before the woman on the other end picked up. 

“Where’s our girl?” Garcia asked anxiously, talking about you. “Is there any news? You’re calling because there’s good news, right?” 

“Babygirl,” Derek called out, trying to get her to focus, but she trampled right past this and continued to ramble on. 

“Please don’t tell me she’s dead!” Garcia shrieked on the other end. “Cause I can’t keep losing people! And I know it’s selfish to say that I can’t lose her, but she’s one of my best friends, and I’m gonna be a mess! And she promised to be the maid of honor and my wedding, and I know I’m not even engaged, and I don’t even have a boyfriend, but I need to have her around for big milestones in my life like that, she’s like the best person I know, and-” 

“Garcia, we need you.” Hotch told her firmly, cutting off her emotional ranting. 

“Right.” The tech replied, sucking in sharply, trying to catch her breath. There was some scraping in the background - the wheels of her chair on the floor as she scooted her chair into her desk. “What do you need? I’m here.” 

“I need you to look up reports of rape in and around Madison County between 1991 and 1999.” Hotch told her. 

“Rape?” Garcia replied, seemingly shocked by the topic and how it might relate to the case at hand - how it might relate to you. 

“Come on, babygirl.” Derek encouraged her. “Work your magic.” 

“Yeah. I got it.” She said hesitantly, and then there was the clacking of her keyboard as she worked. 

“Oh. Ugh.” 

“What is it?” Rossi was the first to ask. 

“There’s over five hundred cases.” Penelope told them, clearly disgusted by this number. 

“Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties? With similarities to the victims who have been targeted by the killer. Same hair type, same race, same body type.” Hotch told her. 

“Turning on the creep filter.” Garcia said, using her usual sense of humor that she turned on to shield herself. “That leaves us with… about twenty cases.” 

“Were any of them prosecuted?” Hotch asked. 

“Two of them.” Penelope replied. “A couple of sorority sisters from the University of Georgia were held at gunpoint and raped by a pizzaman in ‘95. He went to trial, got ten years. And he was paroled for good behavior in 2003. Yikes.” Emily rolled her eyes in agreement with his comment. “And shortly after his parole, he crashed his car into a tree in a drunk driving incident. Looks like he’s probably not your guy.” 

“What about the other eighteen cases?” Reid asked. 

“Um… no.” Garcia replied. “None of them went to court. A lot of these say that the victims were attacked by a stranger… that he broke in through the back door. Hold on.” 

“What?” Derek prompted her. 

“There is one here. Terry Driver. She said that she was raped, and she identified her rapist as someone she knew - Daniel Matthews. But he was never arrested because his brother gave him an ability for the night of the incident.” Garcia explained. 

“I bet that one was air-tight.” Rossi scoffed. 

“What type of injuries did the victims have?” Hotch asked. 

“Um… nothing major.” Penelope replied. Hotch frowned. “A black eye… a few scratches.” She hesitated. “Ligature marks… from being tied to their beds. God. That sounds like the most horrible night of your life, doesn’t it?” 

Hotch shook his head, sweeping a tense hand over his face. “He doesn’t fit the profile.” 

“Wait.” Reid swallowed thickly, staring at the photos of you that were sitting in the middle of the table. 

Battered. Bruised. Broken. 

“Some of the letters refer to him having an awakening. ‘An awakening in my soul. A bond through blood.’” He explained, naturally reciting the words from memory after having only read them once. 

“She fought back hard.” He held up one of the photos - one of your arm, showing deep, bloody scratches. Defensive wounds. “She found back so hard - he must have liked it. It-” 

“It gave him a taste for violence.” Prentiss finished off the thought, fear written all over her face. “She - she was the one who made him realize that he could use violence to replace sex completely. So he switched from rape to murder.” She came to the shocking realization aloud, her eyes flickering from the photo of you to all the photos scattered across the evidence board - all the victims he had practiced on in the wake of you. 

“Oh - oh my god.” Penelope gasped, having heard all of this over the intercom. “He’s gonna kill her? He’s gonna kill Y/N?” 

“Garcia, What can you get me on Matthews?” Hotch asked. 

“Um, right - Daniel Matthews…” There was more clacking of keys, and then Penelope replied. “He grew up in Madison. Looks like he went to the same high school as Y/N. He used to play football. He has a juvenile record for… vandalism, underage drinking. The usual. Oh…” 

“Oh?” JJ wondered aloud. 

“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001 when he was accused of sexually harassing fellow female applicants, and he was flagged on the psych eval as having a possible narcissistic personality disorder.” Garcia explained. 

“Bingo.” Rossi sighed. “That’s our UnSub.” 

“Oh my god. The hiatus.” Morgan said, his eyes fixated on the evidence board now. “‘99 was the year he attacked Y/N, when he first got a taste for it… and then… he followed her to the Academy?”

“And he resumed the killings when he got kicked out.” Rossi picked up on the thought. “When he couldn’t be in close contact with her anymore… he couldn’t get a high off of retraumatizing her, reliving that night in his mind, he needed to relive it through the other victims.” 

It all fit together now. 

It was a horrible puzzle, but it all fit together around you. 

“Reid, you said you might know where he took her?” Pretniss said, turning back to the very tired looking genius. 

“Yes,” Reid shoved aside the file with the graphic photos of you, and went shuffling through the letters for something. When he found it, he handed it over to Prentiss. “A lot of the earliest dated letters make reference to ‘our special place’. Or-” 

“-the bed I first made love to you in.” Prentiss read it off the page, clearly holding back vomit. 

JJ grabbed up the file with the report about the break-in, shoving aside the photos, looking for an address. “It’s here. I’ve got it.” 

“Okay, I want squad cars, tactical swat, I want spike strips on every road in or out of that place. I need everyone mobile in ten minutes.” Hotch ordered sharply, causing everyone to jump into action. 

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

It should have felt like a victory to hold a knife to the throat of your rapist - someone who had been taunting you for years after the incident. 

But somehow, you still felt small. You still felt so chaotic and out of control. 

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of confronting your life’s biggest monster. 

In the back of your mind, you were aware of the guns pointed at you. You would have liked to believe that because Emily was your friend - she wouldn’t shoot you. 

Part of you thought it would be worth it. To kill this man and take a bullet in the process. 

You just hoped that she would aim to wound and not to kill. 

“Put the knife down!” Emily ordered, her voice sounding muffled in your ears as blood thumped hard through you. “Come on, put it down.” 

“Reid-!” 

You heard his name being called out, and you saw a figure moving from the corner of your eye, but all you could focus on was the blade in your hand. The sight of a thick, unmarked neck, ripe for the taking in front of you. The idea that all you had to do was press down and slice through flesh - and then, this would all be over. 

No more torment. No more letters. No more taunting. 

“Y/N,” 

His soothing voice spoke your name, and you held a sob inside of your chest. 

You had grown so much of a life beyond this. Beyond him. He had tried to ruin you, he had tried to keep you in some little cage in some shitty town, and you had outgrown him. You had friends. You had people who loved you. 

But you still couldn’t escape him. 

“You don’t have to do this.” 

Your hand shook as you held the knife. 

“I have to.” You replied, unable to hold back your sobs. You barely noticed the tears coming out of your eyes - barely able to identify why your vision was blurring, why your face was suddenly wet. 

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.” 

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls. 

If you let Daniel walk away from this, he would come for you again. He would. 

Or he would keep killing other women in your place. And you couldn’t let that happen. 

You couldn’t let your cowardice be the reason that so many women had died. You should have killed him the first time he had ever touched you. You should have been brave enough then. 

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-” 

It just sounded like noises in your ears at that point. 

Spencer just didn’t understand. 

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, urgent to make him truly hear you. “I killed those women. I killed them!” 

“Prentiss!” A voice called her name, but it was so distant in your ears. 

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. 

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.” 

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

You couldn’t give up. 

You had come too far to let Daniel win now. 

“It was my fault. I know what happened. If I had just been a good little girl… if I had just laid there and taken it… it’s all my fault.” You quietly wept, your arms still shaking - muscles ripe with hesitation as you struggled with your grip on the knife. “I have to be the one to make it stop.” 

By violence it was done, and by violence it would be undone. 

You could be brave enough this time. You could be the one to end it. 

“No, no you don’t.” Reid told you. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can make it stop together. Just give me the knife. Please.” 

You had been alone your whole life. What was one more thing? 

Just press down. Something in your mind screamed. Slice his throat. End it. 

“Please, just look at me.” Spencer begged, his voice growing more desperate. “Please.” 

You didn’t look up at him. 

You knew that you couldn’t. 

If you took one look at those soft, pitying eyes, then the tiny bit of bravery you had gathered up would crack away. 

“Y/N, please.” Spencer continued. “I know why you think you have to do this. I know that his face is the one that’s been in all your nightmares since that night. I - I know you were all alone then, on the night that happened. You must have felt so alone.” 

You let out another sob at this. 

You had been so alone. 

“But you’re not alone now. You’re not alone now, okay?” 

Spencer’s gentle voice delivering the words made them feel so true. 

“We’re here with you now. I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to fight by yourself anymore. You don’t have to be strong.” 

You heard a crack in his voice for the first time - his own tears. 

It wasn’t pity. 

It was genuine sadness for you, as he thought about what had happened to you. What had happened in this very bedroom all those years ago. 

“Spencer-” You choked out his name, and your body betrayed you. 

You finally collapsed, your hand dropping the knife, and Spencer reached out and grabbed you as you fell, helping to move your shuddering form away from the unconscious, horrible man as the others finally moved in. 

You heard more voices, more shouting - maybe Hotch giving orders. 

But all you felt was Spencer’s arms around you, creating a shield as he rubbed your back and gently hushed you, letting you sob as loudly as you needed to, giving you a kind of comfort that you had never felt on that horrible night. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret of it all more palpable in your lungs. 

Maybe Reid had saved you from yourself, or maybe he had caused you to make the biggest mistake of your life. 

You should have killed Daniel. 

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand. You should have sliced his throat. 

Ten more minutes. 

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would be resigned to a cage. 

Daniel had been hauled away in an ambulance. He had been entirely unmoving. In ‘critical condition’. They would likely charge you with manslaughter if he didn’t recover - it wasn’t likely that he would. You had overheard Prentiss remark on the irony that he was an organ donor. Because you had beaten him so badly, but not killed him, it was likely that his comatose state would lead to his organs being donated, and saving more lives. 

It could be viewed as a beautiful thing. 

But you had to wonder if the poison he had in his veins was contagious. Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body? 

“Let’s start with this,” Reid asked you sharply. “Why?” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself. 

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.” 

You let out another puff of your cigarette, and he frowned at you. 

“No.” He said. “No more bullshit. No more games.” 

You definitely were not used to this version of Reid. 

You were surprised that it had taken you almost killing someone to bring out his cold side. But you supposed that everyone had a line. And you had crossed his. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you had been raped?” He asked. “Why didn’t you tell us that the rapist lived in your hometown and was a viable suspect in all of this? Why didn’t you tell us that the letter you received the other morning was just one of many your rapist sent you over the years, stalking you, obsessing over you after-?” 

“Why?” You said, your voice scraping against the word harshly as you tossed it back at him, cutting off his ranting. 

He gave you an impatient expression as it hung in the air - eyes wide, pursing his lips. 

It caused you to flare with anger. 

You let the cigarette burn down to a hot cherry between your fingers, the harsh sting against your skin being the only thing keeping you from lunging across the table and strangling him. 

You stubbed it out in the ashtray before you answered him. 

“Why didn’t I want to suddenly announce to a group of my intellectual peers that I was raped?” You echoed back, more tears gathering in the corners of your eyes - you knew that you must have looked quite crazed, especially when Hotch stiffened, and Reid’s expression dropped. “You know, when I first came to the BAU, it was the only time in my life that I wasn’t viewed as a victim.” 

“Y/N-” Spencer said your name in that gentle tone again, but you weren’t having it this time. 

“My dad left us when I was only a year old. And everybody viewed my Mama as this fucking martyr because she raised me by herself. ‘Oh poor girl. She doesn’t have a daddy. Poor little girl, all alone. Her mama does such a good job.’” You said, ranting in a crazed tone. But the floodgates had opened, and you couldn’t stop it. “Nobody wanted to talk about how my Mama was off half the time, drinking at bars, out partying with friends. She got pregnant at sixteen and she didn't want to stop having a life. God forbid I get in the way of that. I took care of my damn self! I raised myself!” 

You knew you were screaming, but you couldn’t stop it. 

“L/N-” Hotch tried speaking to you in a firmer voice. 

But you couldn’t stop. 

“Daniel only broke into the house that night because he knew I would be alone.” Your voice warbled harshly on the word, and you hated it. 

You hated the look that Reid and Hotch were giving you. 

Pity. 

That look you had been trying to avoid for so long. 

“When I came here that night and made the police report, they all knew I was bullshiting. They knew that it wasn’t a fucking burglary.” You pressed on. “But none of them said anything! They didn’t care.” 

There was a tense moment. You swallowed thickly around your own tears, holding back sobs once again. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Spencer tried again, seeming to be personally stuck on this point. “I asked you if something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“That look in your eye.” You told him, entirely honest. “That look you have right now. I - I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me like that forever.” 

“Daniel approached you in the parking lot of the corner store.” Hotch stated calmly. “Why did you go with him willingly? Did he have a gun on you?” 

“He had a gun.” You told him. “He did have it pointed at me. But - I didn’t have mine. I didn’t like the odds.” 

Hotch nodded at this. 

“I didn’t want him to take another girl.” You added on. “I knew they were replacements. At that point, I realized what it was. I figured nobody else should have to die because of my mistake.” 

“Mistake?” Spencer echoed back quietly. 

“Not killing him the first time.” You said, knowing this was likely a bit too honest. “I should have killed him the first time he ever put his hands on me. I should have. I wanted him dead.” 

Tears leaked hot from your eyes at this, and Spencer’s eyes grew glassy - he blinked back his own. 

“You wanted him dead, but… did you want to kill him?” Hotch posed. 

“I don’t know.”

...

“That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”

-Patrick Rothfuss

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, meant to function as an episode of Criminal Minds, so please respect it as such. Please do not ask for a sequel or a continuation, because there will not be one. If you are going to comment about the work, please comment about the body of what has been written. I highly appreciate reblogs and comments if you enjoyed it, and if you want to see more of what I have written for Criminal Minds, definitely check out my Criminal Minds masterlist.

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 27. M!Whitney (Breeding & Yandere)

Pairing: M!Whitney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 3,145 Warnings: breeding, creampie, yandere, noncon, degradation, stalking, rape, dacryphilia, victim blaming, sadism, spitting, name calling Prompt(s): 04 — breeding + 18 — yandere Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty . . .

Whitney [1:38am]: let me in slut.

Whitney [1:39am]: quit fucking around already.

Whitney [1:39am]: cmon, let me the fuck in.

His fingers pause on the phone keyboard, red tips numb under the rude language he uses. Can you blame him for his upset? Puffing away at his cigarette like the chain smoker he is as he awaits your reply— but he ran out of the plentiful patience he holds for you a while ago. Which, in all honesty, was next to none anyway.

Whitney [1:42am]: fine, fucking have it your way slut.

Stupid fucking whore, leaving him out all alone to shiver by your window like a forgotten about dog, fuck, his fists clenched stiff around a stray stone in absent thought.

He could throw it against your window, hopeful to gain your attention that way... But he wouldn't want to bring too much heat to himself, huffing out in anger only to narrow in on how easy it is to see his hot breath wave in the air. "S'fuckin' cold..." He mumbles to himself, sniffling as he shakes his head from side to side with purpose. It's late enough that nobody should be hanging around the orphanage by now, but he can't be so sure, right? Double checking that the coast is clear before slowly inching closer to your curtain clad windows, stone remaining tight in his hand just in case.

It'd be a shame if he were to use it, honestly. His time with you regrettably cut short because you're too much of a fucking dumbass to account for his arrival. Which is obvious by now, is it not? He's made his intentions clear enough, he thinks.

Something else to punish you for, he muses to himself. Giddy at the thought of making you cry... Again.

As if your mere existence wasn't reason enough, walking into his life so obliviously one day to so easily uproot it with a simple glance. Heart pitter pattering in his chest the moment his eyes met yours in the school hallway like some sort of lovesick kid, God, even the memory of it is fucking embarrassing. Do you remember it as well as he does? How his touch felt electric, right? Something he'd never experienced before, an uncomfortable heat rising to his cheeks at the way you cowered from his harsh words— a front to deal with the sudden affection he felt towards you at your reaction, so cute— uncomfortable affections resting heavy in his chest for the foreseeable future. Push a man so far and—

And to begin with, he didn't know how to deal with the burgeoning feelings. New and confusing to his otherwise straight forward existence. Call him emotionally stupid, a fucking child, or whatever the case; all he understood was that he found himself wanting to see you more. Convinced that it was just because you cried so well (prettily), but he found himself soon referring to you as his favourite. In private, of course. Had no one to talk to about his growing adoration towards you, forced to seethe all by himself, barely content just to bully you; but what else is he to do?

The idea had come to him so suddenly. Terribly so, in fact. Like a jolt through his entire body one boring math class, system shocked at the epiphany upon looking at your pretty face. Of course, it seems so simple now in retrospect. Twiddling with his pen, zoning out to the teachers droning voice, he can't get the thought of you underneath him out of his mind. With his heart set on you, there can only be one natural conclusion, right?

Even if it comes by force.

He takes a final greedy inhale of his cigarette, lungs full of stinging smoke, holding it there for an unnecessary prolonged time before exhaling. Doup tossed haphazardly to the ground, stamping on it despite it being out already. He always smokes right to the end when he's nervous. Or is he just excited? It's hard to tell when you can't distinguish between love and obsession.

Whitney [1:44am]: last chance.

He only sends you a final text to be nice. Doing his best to play by the rules he assumes are in place before executing his hastily strung together plan, biting down on his nails in thought for a minute. A minute too long, he quickly decides when you don't respond immediately. He knows that you're probably fast asleep by now given the time, but he can't help but hope. And you make it too easy for him to indulge himself, rattling lightly on your window only to find out that it's unlocked— stone toss unneeded for the time being. Stupid fucking slut, you're fucking begging for it, aren't you? Holding his breath as he sneaks in without second thought, your apparent carelessness only strengthening his resolve to make you his tonight.

Though, the sight that greets him immediately upon breaking into your room has him stopping in his tracks. Chest tight as his heart hammers inside, cheeks heating up the same way they always do when he sees you. Cock twitching to life in his loose sweatpants picked specifically for tonight, fuck— you must know what you do to him, right? Even as you lay dormant, the hold you have over him is pathetic. Annoying, even. You know how easy he is for you, and that's why you left your window open, allowing him to stalk you all the way home just to wait for him, didn't you? God, he can't rightly walk away from you now, can he? Taking careful slow steps towards you, eyes used to the dark from how long you made him wait outside, he almost wants to light another cigarette out of sheer stress.

"Stupid..." He sighs to himself, unsure if he's calling you or himself as such, a smirk making its way to his lips regardless of the answer.

It's just that you look so pretty when left unaware, y'know? So soft and sweet, barely covered chest rising and falling so steadily under his watchful gaze, as if begging for disruption. And that's all he's ever known, really. Especially since you entered his life, big open paw lazily palming away at his rising erection the closer he gets to you.

And for a few moments he just stares at the foot of your bed. Watches you sleep, head cocked to the side in silent curiosity. It's the first time he's seen you be so docile, and his cock thinks it's the prettiest fucking sight in the world.

It's also the first time you'd have seen him look so lovingly down at you, if you were even awake for it. Blissfully unaware to his seedy attention, the way he pets at his cock in assumed privacy, like the filthy fucking stalker he is deep down. The pervert you've turned him into— yeah, this is all your own fucking fault. You should have come to expect this, from the way he pokes and prods at your entire existence, bullies you into submission because he fucking wants to. Because he sees the way your eyes wet so sweetly for him, coaxing him to fall deeper into you with each passing day of harassment. And if you didn't see him coming at you like this, cock squeezed under cloth, leaking precum to stain his light grey sweats dark, then you're only making it more fun for him. He enjoys the chase, didn't you know?

His intentions are set just from watching you snooze so serenely. So cute, and so innocent. It's only human nature to want to corrupt such pretty things, don't you think? Carefully creeping closer, huffing in your scent the nearer to you he gets— soooo intoxicating to him, better than any drug he's ever tried. And like an addict, he finds himself yearning for a better high, something new that he hasn't experienced yet, but that he's sure he'll enjoy.

But don't worry! He's prepared to fall deeper into depravity, too. Anything for you, slut. Even if in the pit of his stomach he acutely understands that when it comes to you, he'll never be able to get enough. There's no better time to start than tonight, at least.

And, realistically, he can only hold back for so long. Pulsing in his pants, exhaling heavily with every full length rub of his greedy hand up and down his visible bulge. He's waited long enough, he thinks. Humping his fist every night to the sole thought of you, harassing you every day and night just to add mental images to his spank bank. It's time for you to give him what he owes.

Giving in to impulse is what he does best, so it's no surprise that after exposing his lower half, underwear and bottoms hitting the ground with a light thud! he, without thinking too much, swiftly pounces on you. That slow and steady watching of you turned more primal in just the second it took to get his cock free, fraught with need as he places the same hand that was on his swelling bulge over your mouth, mounting your font in an effort to quell your cute frightened writhing.

His heart races, cock throbbing at the wide eyed stare you offer him; so fucking cute, makes more pre leak from his uncovered cock and onto your front. The way you wear fear so well under him— it's exactly as pretty as he'd imagine. Which is fucking annoying, how eagerly he wants you, how his knuckles turn white from the sheer strength he has to exert not only in pinning you in place, but also to hold himself back. He wants to toy with you a little before claiming ownership, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek in frustration from how hard your crying has got him.

Big fat tears rolling down your cheeks as he wrestles you into submission, his breath uneven and strained with the amount of effort it takes. That's his slut, so cute when you put up such a good fight.

He hushes you, only briefly, far too enamoured by the sight of your tear stained cheeks to keep his composure. His voice coming out hushed and laboured with: "Keep cryin', slut. Only makes my dick harder." thrusting his bare cock against your panties to prove his point. And he knows that his words will only make you bawl some more, but he's telling you the truth. Cock just aching above you, little hidden cunt providing him such good pleasure as he humps his tip against where he thinks your hole is.

And yet still you fight. Struggling under him, constrained movements encouraging him to tighten his grip on you. One hand over your mouth to muffle your screams, the other pinning your arms above your head, leaving you to squirm and try to kick your lower half, hoping to knock him off balance, but he's just so much stronger than you isn't he?

Instinctively, he grabs at you tighter. Rougher, enough to make you squeak under his hand gag. And the sound you let out is endearing enough to have him still rutting against you, unable to stop the excitement driving his hips forward, he taunts you. "C'mon, I really don't wanna hafta hurt'cha..." He lies, a teasing lilt to his voice that indicates just how much he years for exactly that. Sadistically pressing his weight on your hips down harder, making sure you're well and truly stuck under him so that he can leave your arms unattended to long enough to tug your panties to the side— there's no need to grant you the dignity of having them fully removed, he's far too crazed with lust to take into account how the fabric might rub against you unfairly, how it might sig into your cunt lips as he frees your hole just enough to rub his tip against it.

So fucking wet, aren't you? His mind filled with self indulgent thoughts; were you dreaming of him? Is that why you're to wet right now? Or are you just so into having no free will, no say in the matter of his cock slipping between your folds. His mouth running before he has a chance to screen his words, keeping his volume low so that no one else finds you crying so sweetly for him, a secret he'd like to keep to himself. "Bet you fuckin' like this, huh? Gettin' raped in the dark, God, pretty fuckin' cunts just begging for it, ain't she?" dark laughter follows, barked down at you before a choked moan escapes him, in awe at how nice it feels to just simply rut against you like this. That means that you're made for him, right? The gush of slick coming out to coat his cock all wet means that you're excited, surely, preparing him for entry like the good little slut he knows you are. His little slut, hands once again returning to keep your arms trapped above your head as he catches his tip to your hole a final time.

"If only you didn't take my abuse so well, yeah?" He teases harshly, instinctively pushing his tip into your well lubed hole; all thanks to the copious amounts of precum he drips for you. Moaning out for you when you whine at the burning stretch his fat cock offers your tiny little cunt, his breath growing increasingly staggered with every little hump inside— just teasing, for now. “I mean, I just push you around and you whine all pretty like that— what else am I supposed to think, huh? Other than you're askin' for it.” Bark and bite, deciding in the split second it takes you to whimper a babble behind his hand, the feeling of your lips trembling against his rough skin encouraging his more baser instincts to take over, and he's already thrusting completely inside. Unfair and brutally fast, disallowing you any space to grow used to his girth as a tense sob crawls up your throat for his cock to throb at. Like you're spurring him on, right? His head clouded by the tight squeeze of your cunt, making you feel every fat inch for only a few seconds before he settles into a frantic pace. Adding pressure to the points that he holds you at, throwing his whole weight behind every greedy thrust inside of your tight heat— ah, you're so perfect for him, aren't you?

Squishy insides made to fit him so well, squirming around his cock so nicely that he can't help but let his facade slip a little, mouth hanging open for rushed sighs and pained sounds of enjoyment to escape; "Quit squeezin' s'fuckin' tight, God—" He moans, but he barely means it. Enjoying taking your innocence away by force with every. Cruel. Fuck. Forward. Burying himself balls deep in your angel cunt, his eyes rolling back with his head at the way your body betrays you. Sluts like you always like it rough, right? Cock throbbing inside of your slicked up hole, tip kissing your cervix with every brutal hump. And oh how he wishes he could hear just how much you're enjoying his cock, how much fun you're having getting raped by him, but the way you claw and dig at hit wrist feels too go to let go. Hovering above you, drooling at the sight of your tears dripping over his knuckles, knowing that he caused them to fall. "Look so pretty with my cock in ya," He smiles down at you, a sick adoring tug at his lips to let you know just how much he loves bullying you. "Jus' need to mark what's mine, kay? So— fuck me—" Little cunt likes his words, huh? Hole gripping his cock so well, almost making it impossible for him to thrust, fuck, atta girl.

"So jus' sit tight an' let me do what I gotta, ok?" His words are slurred, prompted by how fucking loud your bed squeaks with his fervent thrusts, huffing above you like a dog in heat with only one thing on his mind.

It's not like you can go anywhere, given how securely he holds you. Hammering his hips into you at such a pace that his balls slap back against you, sticky with the slick that gushes out from your hole every time he fully sheaths. Lust pooling in his tummy when your back arches so prettily for him during his assault, fucking slut, you do enjoy getting raped, don't you?

In that case, he'll have to bully you some more. Collecting spit in his mouth to dribble onto your face, landing square on your forehead and dripping down the side given how fast he fucks. "My slut, ok?" He whines, nails digging into your soft skin to leave little moon marks, hoping to leave every inch of you covered in him somehow. Forehead drool, nail marked skin, and with a couple more strokes inside of your perfect little cunt; cum painted hole.

Fat load spilling as deep as possible, unable to quit humping into you even as sensitivity takes hold of his tip. Just drooling seed for you, marking up your insides with his hot cum, fucking it back into you over and over again to breed his pretty bitch full. It's what you deserve, he absent thinks, an uncharacteristic whine of your name whispered from his lips at how well your cunt takes his load. Insides still squirming around his cock as he offers you shallow humps, milking himself empty as a reward for being the perfect little rape slut for him tonight.

It's almost too good to be true, how good you make him feel. Better than anyone before, and certainly there'll be none after your show tonight. A shiver running through him as the last spurts of seed turn your cunt all sticky.

"Tell me," He struggles for air, cock buried balls deep to plug your cunt full of the cum he's just fed you. "Who owns you, huh?"

And though his hand still yet covers your sobbing mouth, he swears he can hear you muffle his name. Teary doe eyes blinking up at him in a mix of lust and terror, you've yet to cum, right?

Maybe if he makes you cum hard enough, you'll go home with him willingly. Though, after his display tonight, he's sure you wouldn't be surprised if he resorted to kidnapping you either. Gotta keep his slut leashed, at least until he's able to claim every inch of you. Hips stuttering inside of your hole with the amount of love he feels for you.

"Hows about a second round?" He smiles, warm and wide. It's how you should know not to trust him.

[pattypanini]

Lay All Your Love On Me Chapter 8- On the Edge

Jake Kiszka x Reader and Josh Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 8.9k

TAGLIST

AN: Hi everyone! Here is the eighth chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! This is a CRAZYYYY one. We will be compensating for everyone's therapy for this chapter and the next. Enjoy the eighth chapter, On the Edge.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT: Oral (M receiving), Sexting, Degradation, praise, SUBBBBB JAKE...., Dom reader, Cum play, Edging, Phone Sex

Vomit

Oh fuck. It felt like you couldn’t get out of your bed fast enough, you just barely got to the bathroom fast enough before releasing your regrets of last night into the toilet. Ughhh. You wipe your face with toilet paper, feeling a sudden wave of relief. Last night was something. Something you slightly forget, but also don’t. Ew. You walk over to the sink to rinse your mouth out with water and give them a quick brush before going back to bed.

When you wake up again, you roll over to your phone to check the time. 12:14pm. Not too bad for only having one class today. You saw a few messages on your phone but first a message from the GroupMe the musical uses to communicate.

9:47am Dr.Coleman: Hello everyone. Due to unforeseen events, practice will be canceled for today. Although, I can not force you to do anything I would highly recommend reading over your parts because we will be doing a full walk through sometime next week. I know it may seem early but we have to be prepared. See you All on Monday. Have a good weekend!

“Yessss.” You flop right back onto your bed and text Josh.

12:17pm y/n: I’m so happy we don’t have practice. What time did you wanna call tonight so I can make sure I’m free?

12:20pm Josh: Is 11 okay?

12:22pm y/n: Sounds good, my last class is done at 5 so I’ll get dinner with my friends and chill til then.

12:23pm Josh: I can’t wait, beautiful, I’ll be thinking about you 😘

You really liked this side of Josh, it gave you butterflies in your stomach. He was being so sweet to you, but you’d be met with completely different texts from his other half.

Holy shit. The texts that you received from Jake last night were far from being sweet and innocent.

1:37am Jake: Fuck y/n, you’re a dirty fucking slut. Grabbing yourself like that. Trying to lick yourself, I can do that for you baby. I’ll please you.

1:39am Jake: God you make me wanna touch myself. You bring out a different side of me. You take control of me, make me wanna do disgusting things. I bet you like that though.

1:40am Jake: I’m going to make good use of that pretty mouth tomorrow. You understand that? You're my dirty little secret, and I’m gonna get all the use out of you until this comes to an end. Just like these slutty pictures and videos you sent.

1:51am Jake: 1 Attachment: 1 Video 1:51am Jake: Fuck baby, you make me a mess. You see what you do to me, you make me cum so fucking hard. I wish your mouth was around my cock. That's what I think about, those beautiful lips of yours wrapped around my fat cock. Choking and gagging you, while I’m so deep down your throat.

1:52am Jake: I wish I could see your perfect tits as much as my fucking brother. It's not fair that he gets to see them just because he’s casted as your ‘love interest.’ If I knew it would be like that, I would have tried out.

He was really going through it last night, but what did he mean by ‘using that pretty mouth tomorrow?’

12:31pm y/n: Looks like you had a pretty late night, did you miss me?

12:33pm Jake: I did, but you seemed to have an eventful night too. I saw your private story. You looked drunk off your ass, how much did you drink?

12:35pm y/n: 2 shots of vodka, Long Island iced tea, Strawberry Daiquiri, Corona, maybe something else Idk. I kinda forgot honestly.

12:39pm Jake: What the fuck, how in the hell did you not get alcohol poisoning?!

12:41pm y/n: My body is immune I guess. I’m fucking feeling it this morning though, trust me. Now let me ask you a question. When you said ‘I’m going to make good use of that pretty mouth tomorrow,’ was that an in the moment thing or…

12:43pm Jake: Wouldn’t you like to know. Just keep your phone nearby today during class. See you later darling😘.

What the fuck does that mean. You decide to try your best to ignore it, getting ready for your day as usual. Even though you were doing the utmost to shake it from your brain, Jake was still lingering in the back of it.

—

You’re bored out of your mind, sitting there in your free elective, Introduction to Ethics. You completely regret taking this course, even though you heard it was an easy A. You thought about what would be happening this weekend, you were a little stressed. Hanging out with Josh and staying over at his apartment is one thing. But knowing Jake would also be there was stress inducing.

You were zoning out, only catching glimpses of the professor’s lesson. The boy next to you was very focused and interested, two things you were not. You glance over at him very unsubtly, taking a quick peek at his notes. His paper is almost completely filled up, whereas yours is still absolutely blank. His gaze catches your eye and he takes a look down at your notebook. He notices the empty page and lightly pushes his notebook over to you, allowing you to snap a quick photo.

“Thank you, I owe you one,” you send him a flirty wink.

He looks down at his paper, blush forming across his pale, freckled cheeks. “Anytime and if you need help with anything I can always be your tutor.” He pulls his notebook back and begins to scribble on it again.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smirk at him. You were in fact not going to be keeping that in mind because the class was easy as fuck. You just didn’t find the subject interesting enough for you to care. You didn't care about moral relativism or utilitarianism, you just wanted to get out of the class.

You feel a vibration from under your thigh where your phone was located. You reach under and grab it, checking the notifications.

4:17pm Jake: Where are you?

4:18pm y/n: In class

4:18pm Jake: No shit, what building are you in?

4:19pm y/n: I’m in Angell, room 2224

4:20pm Jake: Okay, I’m on my way.

Why is he coming to my class? You were beyond confused, but since you were on your phone you decided to do some mindless scrolling through instagram. A few minutes later, another text comes through.

4:28pm Jake: Come outside the classroom, bring your stuff.

4:29pm y/n: Why?

4:29pm Jake: Stop fucking questioning me and get your ass outside.

You gather your things and quietly slip out the door. Your professor sends a little wave and a smile as you walk out the door, you reciprocate the gesture.

As you step out of the classroom you look left to see no one, then right to see Jake sitting on the cushioned chairs outside the classroom. When he looks up from his phone he stands and darts to the right making his way down the hall. You follow behind not knowing where he is going.

“Jake, where are you going?” Your legs pick up the pace. “If you're gonna make me leave class, at least have a reason.”

He stops suddenly, turning towards you grabbing your wrist. “I said stop asking fucking questions or else.” He throws your wrist back down and restarts his mission.

“Or what, Jake? You can’t do anything out here.” You boldly snap back at him.

“You're right, I can’t.” He grabs your wrist once more and drags you quickly to a specific classroom. When he pulls you inside you can barely see a thing. There are no windows, just a cement room, with a single skylight lighting the middle of the tiny classroom. You hear the sound of the door locking as he stands in front of it.

“Get on your knees.” You hesitate, everything happening so fast. “I said get on your fucking knees y/n, or are you deaf?” His aggressiveness takes you back a bit. You shrug your backpack off, then slowly make your way onto your knees.

“I’m gonna say it once, what you did last night was slutty. Teasing me with that fucking video knowing I couldn’t do anything about it other than touch myself. So you're gonna pay me back and use your mouth the way it should be used, sucking my cock. Not trying to suck your own tits, got it?”

“Oh! So, that’s what this is?” You push him back against the door, slowly begin to unbuckle his pants. “Poor Jakey just needs his cock sucked? You’re just so desperate for a blowjob that you use my video from last night as an excuse to get one. You know I could have been sucking some other guys dick last night.” You pull his boxers down releasing his cock, slapping against his stomach. “Does that make you mad, knowing my lips could have been wrapped around some other guy's cock, not having to keep it a secret.” You press light kisses onto his throbbing tip. “So fucking horny for me baby, so I will suck you off, but tell me why you actually want me here.”

He looks down to you, completely in awe. “I needed you baby. That video you sent me last night was so fucking hot. I just need you to suck my cock, please, I’m begging.”

You teasingly lick a stripe up the underside of his dick, not making any moves to go further.

“You're gonna have to beg a lot more Jakey, you think you’re in charge here but you’re not, and I’ll tease you as long as I want until I think you’ve earned it.” Placing a few more kisses down his cock.

“Please baby, I’m so fucking desperate for you. I cum just thinking about you at night, thats how fucking bad I need this. All I’ve ever wanted was your lips wrapped around my cock. I hear people talk about it and it makes me want it even more. Making the excuse is all I could think of to get you to suck me off because I didn’t wanna beg, but I will. Please y/n, I’m so fucking horny for you I need this.” He looks down to you with begging eyes.

“Such a good boy, Jakey.” You say as you once again take his cock into your hand. You hear him whimper slightly under his breath. “Does someone like being called that? You put up this dominant front, but you're just a little bitch who wants to be told what to do. Isn’t that right?’

Another whimper escapes his lips, solidifying the fact that yes he did enjoy being called ‘a good boy’.

“Tell me what you think about baby, tell me all the things you think about alone when you're jerking off. If you stop, I'm gonna leave you to finish it yourself.” You fire at him, you feel your own wetness beginning to pool in your panties.

Jake’s POV

Fuck. You almost came just from that alone. This is everything you’ve ever wanted. Since freshman year, you had it bad for her. Hearing what she did to all those other guys made your blood boil. But now it's your turn. You were her bitch and you couldn’t give one shit.

“Please y/n I’m so desperate I’ll tell you anything.” You can’t help but be a submissive mess for her, she just has such a fucking hold on you.

“So tell me Jakey, how long have you been thinking about me when you touch yourself, and what you think about.” She takes your cock all the way into her mouth, pulling it back out, sending your head against the door. “Oh and Jake…” You look down on her. “No cumming til I say so, got it?”

“Fuck- anything for you, darling, anything,” You whine out as she bobs her head up and down, slowly, on your throbbing cock.

She looks up to you with her big doe eyes, waiting for you to start talking.

“Oh fuck, um, the first time I saw you, you were all- all I could think about.” You struggle to get any of your sentences out, as she resumes her painfully slow bobbing on your dick.

“I would look at your insta all the time. I would think about what it would be like to get with you. I would purposefully go to the dining hall when I knew you’d be there, oh fuck, just to get a good look at you.” Your breathing picked up as soon as y/n started humming around your cock, inducing an unholy moan to release from your throat. “Once it started getting around to the school that you were just sleeping around I was pissed, not at you, but at the guys you got with. I wanted- fuck- I wanted nothing more than to be one of those guys.” She picks up the pace on your cock, making you close to losing it. “And since I couldn’t be one of those guys, I thought about what it would be like.”

You shut your mouth, trying your very best to stop your moans from slipping past your lips. You’re silent for a few minutes as she continues to work on your cock, but after noticing the silence she pulls away.

“Are you scared someones gonna hear baby, isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted to let everyone know that I sucked your thick cock. That’s all you’ve ever wanted, so enjoy it baby. Savor it. Or else you're not cumming, at least not from me, you can do it yourself. Slut.” She was spurring you on, bringing you even closer to orgasm.

You watch her intently as your hands travel to the shoulders of her shirt, balling them up in the palms of your hands. She slows down and pulls her mouth off slowly, leaving a string of saliva hanging from her lips connecting her to your dick. “You want this off Jakey?” She says grabbing at her shirt. You nod frantically, your eyes fully concentrated on her. “All you have to do is ask, tell me what you want.”

“Please y/n take off your shirt, let me see your perfect tits.” She smiles back up to you. Her hands grab at the hem of her shirt, swiftly pulling it over her head, leaving her in nothing but a little baby blue mesh bra. It wasn’t covering much, because you could fully see her nipples through it. “Please baby, can I take it off. I wanna see everything. Wanna see your pretty tits” She nods, your hand trailing behind her back, clipping it off her and letting it fall to the ground.

“Such a slutty man, I like that.” She brings her hand near her mouth before spitting into it, and pumping your cock. “Now tell me what you think about Jake, you know… when you're jerking yourself off to me like a fucking whore.” She’s gonna be the death of you.

“I think about a moment just like this, you sucking my cock. Most of the times I finish in your mouth and you swallow it, but other times I- fuck- I cum on your tits.”

She smiles up at you with a malicious look on her face. “I like that idea, wanna make that happen right now.”

“Ughhh fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum.” Your hand goes to her head, pushing her mouth back down around your cock. “Please let me cum baby I’m so close.” Her head bobs up faster and faster.

She pulls back for a moment and continues jerking you off. “Cum for me Jakey, show me how much of a good boy you are. Come on, cum all over my tits Jake, fulfill that fantasy, you dirty little slut.” With a few more pumps you're on the edge and can’t take it any longer. You release all over her tits along with screaming her name.

“Fuck y/n… Holy shit baby. You’re fucking perfect.” You say as you’re panting for air.

She looks up to you while her fingers go to her tits, gathering as much cum as she can get before sucking it off her fingers, continuing her deep eye contact.

“You’re a fucking maniac. You make me wanna tell everyone about you, I want you so bad.” She begins to stand up wrapping her bra back on her.

“You wish, Jakey.” She grabs her shirt pulling it back over her head. “Hopefully that’ll hold you over, and give you something new to think about. See you soon.” She sends a wink your way as she grabs her bag and makes her way back out the door she just came from.

Wait- what the fuck just happened?

-

y/n’s POV

As you make the grueling walk back to your dorm you take a moment to reflect on your actions of today. If someone had told you a month ago that you’d just finished sucking off Jake Kiszka in an empty classroom, you’d never believe them. Especially a begging submissive one, but I guess that’s just the effect you have on people.

As you open the door you’re met by Charlotte sitting on the couch staring at you like a parent waiting for their child to come home from a late party. She sat there with her arms crossed as if she was sitting there for a while just waiting for you to walk in. She glares at you as you drop your backpack off at the door.

“Where were you?” She questions beginning to cross her legs.

“In class?” You give her a weird look. Why is she interrogating you?

“Wellllll, you are late getting home. You usually get back around 5:15ish, it's 5:47, why so late.”

“Why are you acting like the police? It just took me longer to get back today, that's all.” You begin to walk back to your room, but Charlotte follows quickly behind you.

“Well that’s what I’d normally expect, but Sierra told me you left class early today, and she wondered if you went home because you were sick. So I just wanna know where you were.” She raises an eyebrow at you.

Shit.

“Well, I wasn’t feeling good so I went to the bathroom, I threw up a little.” You’re quick to defend yourself, hoping she won’t see through your lies.

“Makes sense. I know you like giving head, but I didn’t think that meant you’d start throwing up cum, you know since it’s dried up around your mouth.” You quickly look in the mirror. There it was a little patch of dried cum right in the corner of your mouth, definitely not one of your best moments.

“And not to play investigator but I went onto snap maps and saw that Josh was on the other side of campus, so who were you with y/n? Oh wait, I actually know because I saw you and another familiar bitmoji in a random classroom. So how long have you been fucking Jake Kiszka?” Charlotte shot you a knowing look, as you sigh in defeat.

“Ugh fine. We fucked ONCE, okay? Just one time. It was nothing serious.” You shrug it off as if it was nothing. Charlotte’s eyes widen, and you feel a pang of guilt sharpen in your chest. “Plus it’s not like Josh and I were a thing. That was all after he stormed off about being friendzoned.”

“Oh my fucking God. Does Josh know?” She questions you, you could tell she felt a little hurt that you’d kept such a thing from her. You usually tell each other everything.

“Umm, not really. So, you CAN NOT tell him, understand?” You were practically begging her, you couldn’t risk Josh finding out.

“You know I can’t lie.” She says with her puppy dog eyes.

You sigh, “I know Char but you need to not say anything. Okay? Don’t be around him, avoid him.”

“Okay I’ll try, so you guys just fucked in that classroom?”

Now realizing there is more to the story and you have exposed yourself you decide to come clean.

“Well not technically…”

“But you said you only did it once… OMG. y/n. It has happened more than once. When?”

I’m going to hell.

“Umm, the night I went to apologize to Josh.” You avert your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact. You were embarrassed and ashamed.

“HOLY SHIT y/n.”

“I know, I know it sounds bad, but when I went over he wasn’t there. But Jake was, and he comforted me. And then he fucked me, like it was crazy.” You put your forehead in the palm of your hands,realizing everything you just said. “OMG Char! Wait, never mind its TMI.”

“NOPE share you shouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t want me to know the details.” She smirks at you with her pink lips.

“I don’t know how else to say this then just say it so, he made me squirt.”

“OMG OMG WHAT. This is actually crazy y/n. You should be telling everyone this.”

“No that's the thing, this whole thing is a secret. You weren’t supposed to know. While Josh and I aren’t dating it would kill him to know I fucked his brother, you can not tell anyone. None of my friends, none of yours, don’t even think about it okay? After this conversation it never gets brought up ever again.” You stick your pinky out to her, waiting for her to reciprocate the action.

She can tell this is stressing you, so without a fight she sticks out, sealing the pinky promise. “Just one more question and then I’ll never mention it again. I promise, pinky promise.”

You roll your eyes, “What Char.”

“What did you actually do in that classroom today, then?” She was on the edge of her seat.

“I sucked him off, it was crazy Char. You're not gonna believe this when I tell you. But he was begging, and whimpering, it was insane. He was so submissive. I never pictured him to act that way”

Her jaw opens, not being able to hide her reaction. “And I found out that he 's liked me since freshman year and that he jerks off thinking about me. He spilled so much about what he was thinking about, it was foul.”

Her mouth turns into a huge open mouth smile. “OMG, Jake Kiszka being a sub is not what I had on my spring semester bingo card. Did he call you mommy?”

“OMG nooooo. N-no, he didn't.” You were a little flustered after picturing him saying it in your mind.

“Would you let him?”

“Um, I-I don't know. Need any more details about my sex life?” You joke to her.

“I just wish my life was this interesting, I’m living vicariously through my sweet y/n.” She smirks at you and playfully shoves your shoulder. You roll your eyes at her, a chuckle passing through your lips.

“I’m just saying I haven't gotten any action in a while. Whenever you and Jake are done just pass him over my way.” Charlotte winks at you and turns to exit your room. You sigh and collapse onto your bed.

Why did things have to be so complicated? Why did you have to have feelings for the Kiszka twins? You were so confused, and quite frankly didn’t know where to go from here.

You loved the thrill you got when you were with Jake, the unpredictability and excitement was all consuming in his presence. Whereas with Josh he was so sweet and a charmer, for sure. The Sun and the Moon. The light and the dark. And with each day passing by, you didn’t know if you were more eager for the light to slowly creep in or the darkness to encompass you.

The evening was boring up until dinner. You laid in bed, did some homework and watched a few episodes of Victorious with Char out in the living room. While in the middle of an episode you and Charlotte get a text from your groupchat.

7:18pm Ari: Wanna walk the track after dinner, have a little yap sesh?

Char looks to you for an answer, not wanting to make the decision herself. You nod and reply back.

7:18pm y/n: Yes def.

You make your way back to your room and grab a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. You slipped on your Hokas and pulled your hair into a slick back ponytail. It had been a while since you ran and were looking forward to it. The musical has taken up most of your time so having time for your physical health would be nice.

Making your way to dinner, you and Char meet up with Ari and Mae, spending your time like you always do, ranting about your day and anything else on your mind. But the track was for gossip. What is said on the track stays on the track.

You take the first 30 minutes to run, pacing yourself and taking your breaks as needed. It had been a while so you were a little rough around the edges. After the first thirty you catch up to the group and join in on the convo.

“He’s actually so attractive though, like in a dilf-y way.” Char says.

“How old is he Char?” Ari asks, not knowing if she really wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t know, maybe like 50 something. He’s beekeeping age. OMG he actually keeps bees, that's so funny.” Char says giggling and twirling her hair around her finger.

“Char, have you ever heard of the term bimbo?” Mae asks sweetly.

“Um I don’t think so, what does it mean?” Char innocently questions.

“Doesn’t matter, just know you are one in the best way possible. You’re just so cute.” Mae replies.

Char smiles and keeps on walking with pep in her step. She's adorable.

“So y/n, are you gonna see Josh soon?”

“I am actually. I’m going to be calling him tonight to work on some musical stuff and tomorrow he’s taking me out somewhere.” You state.

“So a date? I thought you guys were just friends.” Char probes. You’re hoping and praying she does not bring up the things that went down between you and his twin.

“We are just friends.” You say sternly. “I’m sure it’ll be something casual, but I’m also hoping it’s somewhere nice. You know they have money to spend.”

“Maybe you’ll stay the night at his place. You’ll be able to see Josh and Jake.” She sends you a devious wink.

Are you serious Char? You shoot her a glare, telling her to knock it off. She catches your drift.

“But I’m sure you don’t wanna see Jake, I would want to though.” Char says with a smirk.

“Well you can have him Char. Maybe I’ll ask if he is looking for a cute ginger girl.” You joke around with her.

Deep down, you wanted Jake all to yourself and you couldn’t help but think he'd want the same. You know how bad he wants you, and knowing that makes you want him more. But there’s Josh. You couldn’t ruin your friendship with him, or did you want something more than just that too? It was all very confusing. But you knew at some point a decision would have to be made, but now was not the time for that.

“Omg I would be perfect for that position.” She says all giddy. Everyone rolls her eyes and laughs about her comments, she truly is a bimbo.

After walking for an hour, Mae somehow convinces everyone to hit legs. You didn’t mind though, you liked the way it made your body feel. How strong you felt after. At around 10:05 you all begin to make your way back to your dorms, saying goodnight to Ari and Mae for the night.

When you're turning the corner to go past the dining hall you run into some familiar faces, the Kiszkas. Along with them their third brother and dad. Your eyes shoot open and smile at them. You and Char slow up to say hi to everyone.

“Hi Josh.” You smile at him and then turn to Mr.Kiszka. “Hi Mr. Kiszka, I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” You reach your hand out to shake his. He grips your hand in his, giving it a firm shake.

“I know exactly who you are, y/n, I noticed you during last year's play. You did very well with your role, a very underrated character.” You thank him for noticing your talent. “My son has told me a lot about you.”

Oh shit. “Um, which son?” You giggle jokingly, but you're not joking at all. You look at Josh who is giving you a strange look, while Jake has a proud look across his face.

“Well Josh, unless you also know my son Jake.” He grabs Jake by the shoulder and shakes him a little, teasingly.

“I know Jake through Josh, never really got to know him though.” You look at Jake, who is shaking his head with a giant smirk plastered on his beautiful face. You turn your attention to the youngest of brothers, who was sporting a t-shirt and short shorts. He has gorgeous long hair that framed his face perfectly, it made you jealous. “I don’t think I’ve ever met you though?”

The youngest brother reaches out his hand for a shake. “My name is Sam, I might be coming here next year.” He smiles holding your hand a little longer than the average handshake, and with a little too much eye contact. You smile at him not wanting to be rude.

“That’s awesome, are you guys all taking a look around campus now?”

“No, no.” Mr. Kiszka butts in. “He has been here enough times to know the layout, we just came to visit these two, and go out for a quick dinner and go to see an old buddy who was in a band when I went here. I don’t know if you have plans, would you like to join us?”

You look at Charlotte who has a grin on her face. “No thank you sir, I hope you all have a great time tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow Josh. Goodbye Mr. Kiszka, it was nice to meet you.” You grin at him “It was also nice to meet you Sam, hopefully I’ll see you around next semester.” You say innocently, knowing that his intentions were to not come at all to college. Do you say bye to him? If you don’t it's even weirder.

“Nice to see you Jake. I hope you all have a good night.” You give a final wave before heading back to the dorm.

“That was awkward.”

“Oh shush it Char.”

As soon as you make your way into the dorm and the door clicks shut, you turn to Char.

“Char, did the convo we had earlier mean nothing, I said that information about Jake can not get out.” You widen your eyes at her, and you can tell she feels bad about it.

“I know I’m sorry. I wasn't even trying to bring it up, it just happened. I promise I won’t bring it up again.” She says with her big green eyes staring at you. You can’t stay mad at her. She has such a forgivable face. Which is probably why she’s able to get out of a lot of trouble when she is caught doing something she's not supposed to.

Like how Freshman year she was able to convince the police officer to not breathalyze her because she had asthma and didn’t want to start having a coughing fit. Somehow he believed her. Which you still don’t see how because she was absolutely obliterated and looked a complete mess.

“I’m gonna head out for a bit, Jonathan asked me if I wanted to stay the night at his place. So if you wanna have Josh over…”

“He will not be over, have a good night. Be safe.” You smile at her as she heads right back out the door.

After Char leaves, you shower and relax for a while until you receive a text from Josh.

12:23pm Josh: Hey I know it’s a little later now, if you don’t want to call I understand.

12:24pm y/n: I’d love to still call you Josh. Do you wanna facetime or call?

12:26pm Josh: Facetime, I miss your pretty face.

Oh jeez.

As your phone begins to dial, you do a quick check to see if you look okay. Your hair was beginning to dry and slight curls were beginning to form. You click the green button at the top of the screen and are met with a white ceiling.

“Josh?”

“Hey, sorry I was just getting in some pants, not that me being pantless would bother you.” He says as he drags a towel over his wet hair.

You roll your eyes, “Yeah Josh I definitely wanna be staring at your dick all night, sounds like a blast.” You say dryly, but knew that it wouldn’t be an awful way to spend the night. “So how was your evening with your family?”

“It was alright. My dad’s friend isn’t as good as he said he was, but what else is new. My dad seemed to really like you though, and my horny brother.”

You laugh at his statement. “What is that supposed to mean Josh.”

“Well as soon as we left and my dad was out of earshot he was saying some… things about you. So if he adds you on anything, don't add him back.” You check your insta and long and behold you had a new follower, @samfkiszka.

“Don’t worry I won’t, I don’t go for polite men anyways, that's why I got with you.” You say in a snarky tone.

“I was very kind to you.” A moment of silence. “Okay I wasn’t in the beginning but I am now, plus what he was saying when you were not there was far from polite.”

“Like what Josh, It can’t be any worse than what a normal highschool senior says.”

“Well if I remember correctly, and I have a fantastic memory, it was along the lines of, ‘well I normally wouldn’t go after older women but I wouldn’t mind a little cougar action. I mean her ass was pouring out of those tight, little shorts. I wouldn’t mind hitting it from the back, you wouldn’t know of any tattoos she would have on her back would you Josh?’”

Your jaw drops, “Um, well that wasn’t what I was expecting. I’ll make sure to steer clear from him.”

“Yeah he also said ‘that's another perk of coming to Michigan, the hot chicks, like Miss. y/n over there.’ It made me jealous.”

Jealous. Hmmmm.

“Really, Josh Kiszka is getting jealous, I would have never thought you’d admit it.” You say cocking your head to the side.

“Well, I don’t think anyone would be fond of hearing their younger sibling say that type of shit. Jake is different because we're like the same person. But my younger brother, um no.” He giggles.

Him and Jake were very much, not the same person. In more aspects than one. “So why didn’t your mom come up?”

“She was busy with my sister tonight. I don’t know if I ever mentioned her. She’s the middle child of all of us. But she doesn’t go here, she goes to a smaller college up north.” ‘

“Makes sense. Maybe I’ll meet her at some point. “ You hint to him. He smiles, but then goes quiet.

“I don’t know if this is too forward, and you don’t have to answer. We have been getting closer as friends and I just wanna know you and everything but dont feel the need…”

“Josh, please just spit it out. I promise I won’t get offended. You called me a slut like every single day so it probably won’t be that bad.”

“Yeah sorry about that. I just wanted to know about your mom. Like I know your parents are divorced but like do you still see her? I couldn’t imagine not seeing my mom.”

You sit there pondering on how to respond. You don't want him to feel sorry for you like how everyone else does, but you wanted to be honest with him.

“No, we don’t talk. We haven’t talked since I was maybe… what, like 10 years old? I have kinda lost track over the years.” You prepare yourself for the pity and sappy sympathy.

“Man, that must suck. And if you don’t mind me asking, why did they divorce?” You’re taken back by his bluntness, but it's also a little refreshing.

“I mean, yeah, at first it did suck but I’m used to it now. My mom was an addict. My dad tried to get her help, but she just refused. She stopped taking care of herself, then me. It wasn’t good. My dad had to divorce her and then he took her to a facility. She was there for a while and then I heard from family that she was out but relapsed right away. So I don’t know the current situation.” It was silent for a little, which is the normal reaction to everything. “Sorry if you didn’t want to know all of that, I just felt comfortable telling you. I haven't really told anyone else other than my close friends, but telling you felt right. I'm sorry.”

“y/n stop, you should not be sorry. I’m glad you opened up to me, I feel closer to you, in a different way than I ever have.” It was cute watching him get like this. He was very empathetic, in the best way he could. You could tell that he was not the type of person to be open with his feelings, or discuss others. You see him open his mouth to say something else but decide not to.

“I don’t expect you to make a whole speech about how it was wrong and that you feel bad. I’ve heard it all my life from whoever found out, well about the divorce part, not the drug part. That's a whole different thing. But just don’t see me differently. I just wanted to share because you asked and I felt comfortable telling you.”

He nods to you, still with a concerned look on his face. “Thank you for sharing, I promise I will never tell anyone. It sounds like a lot, but you turned out to be a really good person. Your dad must have done a good job raising you.” You smile thinking about your dad.

He was a tall skinny guy, similar to the statue of Coraline's dad. He wore his rectangle framed glasses and had a really good personality despite working in the office everyday. He always told you that you are his whole world, and that no matter what happened in his life, it would always get better when he remembered you and how proud he is of his daughter. He is dating Celia, his girlfriend, who you grew fond of over the years. She acted as the mom you never had growing up later in life. When your dad found out that you were going to Michigan he was upset that he wouldn’t be able to see his ‘little girl’ everyday, but he was so proud of you for getting into an amazing school. He is your biggest supporter, and you truly wouldn’t be who you are today without him.

“He did an amazing job raising me. I miss him so much.” The conversation made you realize you haven’t called your dad in a week or two, you were definitely going to have to call him soon.

“I know I always made fun of you for your, um, sexual history and other things, but I truly always saw you as perfect. With singing, acting, your personality, everything. I’ve never met a person who was as perfect as you in any aspect.”

“Josh, that was really kind of you. Like seriously it’s nice being told I’m more than just a slut for once. Like I’m aware I’m not the most prude person, but I don’t really care that I sleep around either. Being called a slut is whatever from random people but it hurts when you would do it. Especially because I wanted you to like me.” You shyly look at your comforter and play with the fabric.

“Well knowing that now I won’t call you that anymore. I promise, other than if the moment calls for it.” You scrunch your eyebrows.

“What type of moment?”

“You knowing when we are fucking and your doing something whoreish. But I don’t actually mean that you're a slut, just an in the moment type thing.”

“I get it. It’s bold of you to say that we’ll be fucking in the future.” You give him a smirk

He tilts his head to the side, giving you a ‘are you serious’ type look.

“What?” You question louder to him.

“We’ve been horned up for each other the past couple weeks and we're finally hanging out tomorrow night. I mean I don’t wanna predict anything but…”

“Well personally I was just thinking about the amazing night we had planned. I never even considered it.” Giving him a sarcastic look and a grin looking at his perfect face. “Your eyes look really pretty right now Josh.”

His cheeks begin to turn pink. “Are you trying to butter me up or something?”

“No. What, I can't just compliment you?”

“No you can. I love when you compliment me mama, it makes me feel good.” He smiles at you. “And when you give me other types of compliments, well those make me feel really good.”

“Like what Josh?” You giggle at him, prodding for more information.

“I really love when you call me names, and talk me through everything. Just thinking about it makes me horny. I wish you were here right now. I’d make you feel so good.”

“You can make me feel good tomorrow.” You say what you were both thinking about, knowing it was inevitable for it to happen.

“Or we help each other out right now?” He says with a devious grin on his face.

“I can’t really suck you off through the phone Josh.”

“Just talk to me mama, tell me all the things you would do to me if I was there.” You watch as his grin widens, his sparkling straight teeth shining through his pouty lips.

“What are you gonna do Joshy?”

“Well I’m gonna jerk myself off, and you can touch yourself, if you want. I wanna hear your pretty moans, don’t hold back for me, yeah? I want you to talk me through it, can you do that for me mama?”

You were taken aback. You never really did this with anyone, but you were an adventurous person and would try everything at least once.

“I can do that for you Joshy. I wanna see your body though. Can you tilt it down so I can see that perfect body of yours.”

He smirks at the camera before tilting the camera down, showing his bare abs and pants.

“I know you like my body mama. I love the way you feel me up and down during practice. Gets me going so much. Wanna take you right there on stage, so everyone can see.” Josh says as he begins to palm himself through his pajama pants. “Are you home alone?”

“I am, so I can be as loud as I want. Am I gonna be able to hear you Joshy?”

“Not as much as you. Jake is home in the living room.” Throwing his head back, moaning from the friction.

“Are you gonna be quiet for me, be a good boy and moan so just I can hear you.” You say in a low tone.

“I’ll be quiet for you mama. Just loud enough for your ears to hear, they're only meant for you.”

“Pull your pants down Josh. I wanna see that beautiful cock of yours, I know it's already hard as a rock and I haven’t even said much of anything yet.” You say licking your lips slightly.

“Just because we haven’t done anything doesn’t mean I wasn't thinking about it. Although I didn’t like Sam saying it, I couldn’t help but keep myself distracted during that show.” He pulls his pants down, releasing his cock. “I wanna fuck you so hard from the back, right in front of the mirror in my room. So I can see how good you look taking my cock.”

“Fuck, Josh. C-can I touch myself? You’re in charge, baby. What do you want me to do, daddy?” You grab your tit through your shirt, supplying yourself with the smallest amount of pleasure to at least get some relief.

“Well I didn’t tell you to start grabbing your tits, are you gonna listen to me or do your own fucking thing you brat.” He says sternly, obviously taking the more dominant role and you were thoroughly enjoying it.

“I’m sorry baby, what do you want me to do, I’m your puppet.” You let go of your tit, and give him your biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Well first I want your phone propped up so I can see your whole body, then I want you stripped on the bed, nothing on. Once you're done, lean yourself against your headboard and spread your legs.”

You follow his directions, putting your phone against the blankets at the end of your bed and spreading your legs, being completely vulnerable to him.

He bites his tongue, smiling. “What a pretty pussy. Such a shame I’m going to destroy it tomorrow.”

Your mouth opens and eyebrows raise in shock.

“Better keep that mouth shut y/n, or else I’m gonna have to come over and skull fuck you.”

Your lips slowly morph into a smile, as your hand begins to slowly start sliding down your stomach.

“Did I tell you you could touch yourself yet?” You shake your head ‘no’ at him. “That’s what I fucking thought.” You remove your hand from your stomach, and give him a little pout. “Such a sad little baby, can’t even keep her pretty little hands off her wet cunt.”

He loves the power he has over you, polar opposite of the demeanor his brother had earlier today.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and listen, because if you keep doing your own thing I’ll just jerk myself off, looking at that perfect body of yours.” He begins to work on himself after spitting in his hand.

“Can I touch myself now, I promise I’ll listen to you.” You sit there leaning against the headboard. Arms by your side.

“I want you to play with your tits first, spit on your hand and massage them, and pinch your nipples nice and hard. I’ll tell you when I’ve seen enough.”

You bring your hand up to your mouth, spitting into it. You stare at Josh, fondling them softly. “I wish these were your hands Josh. Yours are so big, and soft, god I wish they were in me.” You whimper letting your head push against the headboard exposing your neck.

“Oh I’ve missed that beautiful neck of yours, it's so perfect. Such a shame it’s going to be all bruised after tomorrow.”

Your open mouth turned into a smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, I’ll never say no. Oh god Josh can I please touch my pussy, it’s aching for touch.”

He smirks before giving you an answer. “One finger, that's it. Your gonna finger fuck yourself until I say you can do anything else.”

You begin to slide your hand down your stomach again, leading all the way down to your slick entrance. As you slip your middle finger in you moan, probably a little more than you had to, but you wanted to play it up for Josh. Give him something to remember.

“You’re so fucking sexy, I love hearing your little noises. Let them all out for me mama, don’t hold back.” You watch as he begins stroking himself faster and harder. The slapping noises drifting through the screen.

“Let me see that throbbing tip Joshy, rub it for me.” You curl your finger up trying to hit your sensitive spot, letting out a very real moan.

“You’re such a dirty girl baby. You should just come over and suck my cock. I don’t care that Jake is here, he can be jealous knowing he’ll never get that from you.”

That's awkward.

“I wish I could come over too, maybe you should come here.” You wink. He stops for a moment.

“Really? Because I will, don’t test me.”

“I’m just joking, I wanna do this with you. Try something new.” You pump your fingers into yourself even quicker, trying to get yourself there.

“You’re a fucking tease, you bitch. I can’t wait to have you all to myself tomorrow. You won’t be able to tease me, unless you wanna get punished. You don’t want that to happen do you.” He says in a sultry tone.

“Like I said I’ll never say no, you can punish me if you want, I’ll enjoy it.” Continuing to finger yourself, but needed more friction.

You let the palm of your hand grind against your clit, not worrying about your finger inside of you.

“You won't be enjoying it when I do it sweetheart. You’ll be moaning in pain, I won't hold back. Who knew Miss y/n liked a little pain with her pleasure?” He says with heavy breathing. He looks at you and his demeanor changes. “Hey, did I say you can rub your clit yet. I can see you grinding against it. Do you think I’m a dumbass?”

“Yeah.” You say under your breath hoping he wouldn’t hear.

“That’s one for tomorrow, keep it up and you’ll get more strikes added.”

“Added to what.” You ask, your heart thumping with anticipation.

“You’ll see, keep questioning and it’ll be two. Now be a good girl and lick yourself off your finger, then you can start rubbing your clit.”

You pull your finger up to your mouth making sure he sees you suck hard on it.

“So she can listen to directions, that's my good girl. Now go ahead and rub that throbbing clit for me baby. I know you want it so badly.” He smirks, picking up the pace on his cock again, moaning very quietly to not disturb Jake.

It didn’t take long to feel close to your climax after all that dirty talk and fingering. You began to moan louder letting him know you were close.

“Don’t you dare cum y/n. I told you I would tell you when to cum, if you want to you have to beg baby.” His voice was shaky, you knew he wasn’t too far behind you.

“Please Joshy, I need this, I wanna cum to you. I wanna see your perfect face while I finish. And I wanna see you cum all over yourself like a little slut. Please Ja-osh just let me.” You almost slipped, but you knew he didn’t catch it. He was too busy jerking off to everything you just said.

“God you make me go crazy, cum with me baby I’m so close. Oh fuck..mmm.” With that Josh came all over his perfectly sculpted abs, making your stomach flip. With a few more circles you were done. The wave of pleasure washed over your body.

“Oh fuck Josh. God, I feel so fucking good.” You say catching your breath. You grab your phone from the end of the bed. Throwing your blanket over your body. “Are you gonna make me feel like that tomorrow?”

“Way better than that baby I promise.” He says while he gets up to clean himself off.

“Okay well I’ll see you tomorrow then, just let me know when you're gonna come get me.”

“Wait.. I was actually thinking. Could you just stay on call tonight? I haven’t been sleeping the best and ever since that night at my house I’ve been thinking about how easy it was to fall asleep. If you don’t want to I get it but…”

“Of course Josh, anything for you.” You turn off your light and crawl into bed, seeing him mimic your moves.

“Goodnight mama.”

“Goodnight Joshy.”

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

@demonrat444 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jordie-gvf @jazzyfigz @slut4lando @gvfmarge @peaceloveunitygvf @jjwasneverhere @areuirish @mar-rein12 @woyayaofdreams @freyjalw @musicspeaks @jennabobenasblog @do-it-jakey-baby @dannys-dream

[blood-mocha-latte]

How about Webgott + love letters, for Valentine's day :)

greetings!! i stared at this prompt for Forever, and was trying to write it in an Organic and Normal way. and it turns out that the Organic and Normal way for me to write this was modern exes webgott. so although i’m sure it wasn’t exactly what you were thinking, i hope you enjoy <3

~

Sun, Feb 4, 9:38AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Subject: Books

Web - 

You forgot your collection at my house. It’s all Dostoevsky, which I knew you did on purpose, idiot. You know I can’t stand that fucker, and you took all of the Vonnegut with you.

Come back and get your books before I burn them all.

- Joe

//

Sun, Feb 4, 2:19PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Books

Joe -

You have my phone number. Just text me. What if I don’t have time to check my email?

I’ll pick up my books at 6.

- David

//

Sun, Feb 4, 6:01PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Books

Web -

You always check your email. At least five times a day. Don’t lie to me. And I don’t want to have to compete with your goddamn spam texts, I know you forget to delete them.

P.S. You’re late.

- Joe

—————— 

Fri, Feb 9,  3:06AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: Journal

I can’t find my journal. The one from August to November? Can you see it at your place? I need it.

//

Fri, Feb 9, 3:41AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Journal

It was in your nightstand. You didn’t think to clear that out? 

Go to sleep. It’s ass in the morning.

//

Fri, Feb 9,  4:13AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Journal

Can I come by and pick it up before Public Speaking? And you’re the one that responded.

//

Fri, Feb 9, 4:39AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Journal

Public Speaking starts at 10, I’m at work by 6. You know where the key is. 

You’re the one that emailed in the first place. I can’t believe you didn’t just text.

//

Fri, Feb 9,  5:01AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Journal

You’re so old I thought a text would confuse you.

—————— 

Mon, Feb 12,  9:03AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Subject: Journalist

Why did I just get called by a guy about a sports journal? The fuck are you up to?

//

Mon, Feb 12, 12:41PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Journalist

Don’t worry about it.

//

Mon, Feb 12, 12:52PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Journalist

Web, he has my contact info. If you get crazy-insane murdered so do I. Did you do something?

//

Mon, Feb 12, 1:13PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: Journalist

Don’t be a doomsday planner. He’s not a murderer. I just went out with him one time. It didn’t end great.

//

CALL FROM: JOE (DON’T)

February 12, 1:27PM

“Yeah?”

“What the hell did you do?”

“What — Jesus, Joe, is this about the guy? It’s fine—”

“Yeah, see, that doesn’t exactly instill me with confidence that you didn’t do something stupid—”

“I already told you, I just went out with him. To dinner.”

“When?”

“I… I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Yes, the fuck you do, because if—”

“Oh, what, you expect me to say I went on a fucking date with him when we were still together? Get over yourself, Joe, it was five days ago—”

“I didn’t say that! I did not say that—”

“And why the hell do you care, anyways? We broke up in December, okay—”

“Jesus, that was only two months ago—”

“It was three, and that’s plenty of time—”

“I’m just saying, you won’t catch me going out with—”

“Because no one can stand your crotchety ass—”

“Oh, but they can stand yours?” 

“I — Jesus fuck. I’m hanging up. He only called you because he saw your name and thought it was a different Joe. I’ve gotta get to class. I’ll see you—”

“Wait, wait, Web—”

“I’m not even going out with him again, I just was thinking about the fourteenth. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“David — fuck.”

//

Mon, Feb 12,  6:34PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: Journalist

I shouldn’t have pushed that far. That’s my bad.

—————— 

Wed, Feb 14, 5:28PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: (no subject)

Can you come pick me up?

//

Wed, Feb 14, 5:37PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Are you okay? Are you hurt?

Where are you?

//

Wed, Feb 14, 5:31PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Outside of Delancey’s bar.

//

Wed, Feb 14, 5:32PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Please don’t call me.

//

(DRAFTED EMAIL - UNSENT)

Wed, Feb 14, 5:33PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I couldn’t stand to hear your voice right now.

//

Wed, Feb 14, 5:42PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I’m on my way. Stay where you are.

—————— 

Sat, Mar 23, 1:18AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: (no subject)

I miss you, I think.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 1:23AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Finally giving in to just emailing, huh?

Go to sleep, kid.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 1:29AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I understand it, now.

It’s less personal.

You have to think more about what you say.

And you’re not asleep, either. 

Thank you for picking me up last month.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 1:53AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I thought you wanted a clean break, after that. That’s what you said at the bar.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 2:02AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I think that once your ex picks your shitfaced ass up from a bar because he got an email, there’s no such thing as a clean break. 

I think I’m just delusional.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 2:10AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Well, I never said you weren’t.

But it seemed like we might have made it, in this go around. It’s been almost a month since we last talked.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 2:18AM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Well, in the words of one of the best movies of all time: I just can’t quit you.

//

Sat, Mar 23, 2:32AM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Eugh.

—————— 

CALL FROM: WEB

April 6, 8:52PM

“You know, he almost broke his nose here.” 

“Yeah, I do know, Web, ‘cause everyone knows that. There’s not an American alive that doesn’t know that.”

“Mm. I like this scene.”

“What, the making out? Or did the TV’s go outta sync again?”

“No, the making out. Both do a good job at the… the emotion. The desperation, I guess.”

“Mm.”

“Are you eating something? I hear chewing.”

“What are you, a cop? Can a man not eat a toblerone while watching a movie?”

“No, you can, it’s just — you’re chewing right into the receiver, Joe, it’s gross—”

“Alright, alright, I’ll put it down. See? No more chewing. Enjoy your gay cowboy movie.”

“If I recall correctly, you’re also watching the gay cowboy movie.”

“Only because it was on! And I would’ve turned it off if you didn’t call me.”

“If I didn’t — you called me!” 

“Yeah, yeah, believe what you wanna believe.”

—————— 

Thur, April 18, 11:27PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: (no subject)

I think we’re better as friends.

//

Thur, April 18, 12:09PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

What makes you say that?

//

Thur, April 18, 12:31PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

It’s just.

I can’t be the only one that thinks that we get along about a thousand times better now then we did for the entire time we dated. I mean, you would have NEVER watched a Wes Anderson film with me if we were still together.

And we talk way more too, I think. Because of the emails, maybe. 

//

Thur, April 18, 12:54PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Well, first off, the reason we talk way more is because of the emails. Because you don’t delete those spam texts and have no filter and are therefore near impossible to reach.

Second off, we still get along terribly, fuck you. 

But I can understand parts of that. We’re still seeing each other just as much as when we were together, I’d say. Now you’re just half an hour away, though. Much shorter distance.

//

Thur, April 18, 1:08PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

Do you think we’d still be together? If we hadn’t been long distance for so long?

And I’m just saying. You never would have agreed with me on any of this if we’d still been doing the whole dog and pony show. You just don’t have the bone in your head that says to be nice to people.

//

Thur, April 18, 1:19PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: (no subject)

I disagree with you on everything just on principle.

—————— 

Fri, May 3, 7:12PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Subject: The New Deal

I want to propose something.

//

Fri, May 3, 7:39PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

You get five sentences.

//

Fri, May 3, 7:57PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

If neither of us is married by forty, we marry each other.

//

Fri, May 3, 9:02PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

That is the most stereotypical bullshit I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

And I’ll be forty in five years, you’ve got a while. How in the hell does that even work?

//

Fri, May 3, 9:23PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

It works in normal marriage ways, idiot. 

And that’s why I was thinking about it, anyways. You’re 40 in 5 years, I’m 40 in 12 years, we just split the difference and get married in 7 years. Avoid a lot of hassle.

//

Fri, May 3, 9:44PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

When you say you were thinking about it, it makes you sound like this is a pity marriage thing. Which is weird, by the way. I don’t think that’s how it works, anyways. That’s more of a heterosexual friends who are scared they’ll die alone sort of deal. Real platonic like.

//

Fri, May 3, 10:01PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

This isn’t a pity marriage thing! I just think that it’s something to consider. Unless one of us gets hitched in the next 7 years, it doesn’t seem like a half bad plan.

//

Fri, May 3, 10:19PM

To: webster.david99@gmail.com

From: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

Oh, I have plenty of issues with this plan.

But fine. We’ll get pity-married in 7 years. You’ll be a child bride. 

//

Fri, May 3, 10:34PM

To: liebgott.joe92@gmail.com

From: webster.david99@gmail.com

Re: The New Deal

I’ll be 33, dickhead.

—————— 

CALL FROM: JOE

May 19, 9:54AM

“The German dog tags are a nice touch.”

“Mm. ‘s an interesting movie. I like this part, though. It’s incredibly violent.”

“Yeah, I figured. I dragged this fucking DVD across the country and rented a DVD player from the hotel to sync this movie with you, and get such wonderful comments as I like that it’s violent.”

“Well, I do! Nothing much to add there, really. D’you have anything smart to say, jackass?”

“You’re chewing into the receiver again. And not at this particular scene, though. I just like Eli Roth in this movie.”

“Hm. Figures. Want me to start bashing people's heads in with a bat? I could be the Bear Jew.”

“No one could be the Bear Jew. I’m sorry to tell you this. You don’t have the flair. Or the height.”

“Oh, go straight for the jugular, why don’t you—”

“It’s true! You’re chewing, again.”

“How’s everything going?”

“Ugh. Fine. I hate these fucking tours.”

“I know. That’s why I delight in them so much.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you still want me to pick you up from the airport?”

“...yeah. I can’t get anyone else to do it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll spare you the humiliation of having to be picked up by your ex. I’ll wear a hat and sunglasses. Send me the information.”

“Oh, yack it up, asshole. And I’ll email you.”

“Fine. Remember to make sure it has a fucking subject, I hate it when you do that.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to watch this.”

“Mm. But you’ll still email me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll still email you, Lieb.”

[benanazauce]

I’ve fallen victim to the lorax

rewatched the lorax with my brother and parents and got a really strong urge to draw the onceler

it wouldn’t go away so I started drawing. this took like 3 hours it’s 1:39am I fucking hate him I hate the onceler so much WHY DID YOU MAKE ME SPEND SO MUCH EFFORT ON YOU GREEN BEAN LOOKING PIECE OF CRAP (/j hes actually a well thought out character)

I DOWNLOADED 2 BRUSHES FOR THIS. BOTH OF WHICH I HAD TO WATCH AN UNSKIPPABLE AD TO UNLOCK

ONCELER WHY MUST YOU BE THIS WAY

(I’m actually really proud of this though so I hope you guys like it too!! people in the lorax fandom I’m sorry I’m a fake fan)

[two-white-butterflies]

WAITING FOR A BUS

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Daemon Targaryen x Reader (MODERN)

Description: A new promotion at work prompts you to move into a small modest town with your boyfriend, Aemond Targaryen. There you meet a few friendly faces. It seems like life is going where it's supposed to. That is until you meet your new boss, Daemon Targaryen, who is your boyfriend's estranged uncle.

It doesn't help with the fact that you've been having dreams about him since birth.

TW: MENTIONS OF NON-CON.

masterlist | chapter nineteen

When the first rays of sunlight made its way inside of the room – you were the first to wake up. His hands were wrapped around you, like a vice-like grip that wouldn't let you go. Someone was ringing the doorbell furiously – and to your surprise, Daemon was sleeping soundly beside you. You moved your body slowly, trying not to awaken him.

"Where are you going?" he mumbled, hugging you tighter.

"There's someone at the door." you inform and his hands lazily reached for the phone on the bedside table. He browsed through his apps – looking for the one that could access his security cameras. "Aren't you going to get it?" you asked with a crunched eyebrow.

He lets out an angry exhale, seeing Aemond's unmoving body that was continuing to ring his doorbell. "My day is ruined," he said to himself while opening the drawer to reach for his gun. "Hey!" you reprimanded him, pulling his arm away from the table.

"I'm gonna kill that bastard," he stated as his face turned crimson red. He has punched his nephew before, it wasn't very hard to knock him down. "You're not killing anyone." you replied, and he turns his phone off. He takes a second to regain his thoughts.

There was no doubt that he was angry. There was too much blood pumping down his veins that he'd almost have a stroke. Aemond killed him – he could forgive that, but hurting and maiming you? That was something no amount of begging could forgive.

"I'm trying to calm down, but I'm getting angrier." he whispered while staring at your eyes – hoping that it would make his anger disappear. The doorbell was still ringing in the background, almost deafening you if it weren't for him silencing it.

"I'm angry too – I feel betrayed, Dae, but killing him isn't going to help us. The police won't believe us." you answer while standing up and peeking through the french-windows. "We're better than him." you turned your head to give him a glance.

He clenches his fists. His nephew was adamant in staying. He was still ringing the doorbell – but the sound was faint due to his tampering. "I can bury him in the garden, there's a hectare of land behind me, the police won't even know where to look." he suggested.

You give him a soft glare, eyes reminding him that the last time he defied your wishes – it cost him, his life. You looked back at the window, continuing to stare at Aemond whose ringing became more aggressive by the second.

You walk back to the bed, reaching for your phone.

PUMPKINPIE 🎃 1:39AM Where are you? I need you? 🥺

PUMPKINPIE🎃 2:00AM I'm sorry, can we talk this out? Please go home.

PUMPKINPIE 3:31AM Where the fuck are you????? YOU THINK YOU'RE SLICK???

PUMPKINPIE 3:40AM WHEN I FIND YOU I SWEAR TO GOD!

You drag his contact number slowly to the block-list, and Daemon leaps out of the bed to take your phone. "What's he saying?" he asked while using your thumb to unlock the phone. "His normal lines." you replied while sitting on the bed.

"My strong girl," he whispered while scrolling through your conversations. "You dealt with this?" he questioned and you nodded your head – unable to defend yourself in Aemond's abuse. Daemon opens his arms to welcome you into a warm embrace.

Aemond stopped ringing the doorbell after a couple hours. But Daemon still has a recording of him vowing to return.

He opens his phone, staring at you from across the bedroom – you were laying on the bed, and he was sat on the Ottoman. He figured that you would be tired after all the happenings last night, thus, he was the one to inform Corlys that you were taking a sick leave today.

He browses through his contact list. Some of them ranging from family members to esteemed members of society. His finger stops scrolling once he sees 'Olenna Tyrell's name on the dash. The woman was his colleague and equal – despite the age gap between them. She was the Head of the Police Department, his superior and mentor, who he used to work with in Iraq. She was amazing. The first female head in all records. If he wanted to get anything done – then she'd do it for him, all in the name of friendship.

"Why are you calling?" was the first thing she asked after picking up the phone. Daemon chuckles for a second, eyes flickering between you and his laptop that held all the evidences against his nephew. "You're still in Dragonview? I need you to check something." he stated while licking his lips in anticipation.

"I'm here for my grandkids, don't get smart with me." the woman replied in a bitter tone – but he knew that she used that tone when she was intrigued. "You can make time for your favorite pupil?" he charmed, almost feeling the woman roll her eyes from the other side of the screen. "I need you to look into someone," he began.

Olenna scoffs, mumbling something about 'abuse' and 'revenge'.

"I'm not allowing you to use my connections to mess with someone, boy." the woman narrowed her eyes, he could hear her stir some tea. "I'm not messing with them, ma'am. I'm providing justice for someone that I love." he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

The woman laughed.

"Who is it, you wanna find?" she asked, tilting her head slightly while opening her Hewlett Packard PC – it was ancient but it was the only PC inside her house. "Aemond Targaryen." he mumbled softly, trying not to wake you with the sound of that cunt's voice. "Your nephew? You're in luck because of this – I'm sending you the information right away. Meet me tomorrow at six, bring that girl too." she smiled, as she was a fan of drama.

The Targaryens were the picture-perfect family of Dragonview. There wasn't a single scandal inside their circle – except for Viserys marrying his cousin, and only a few months after her death – he married a young wife right away. That was the only flaw about them, but other than that – they were perfect. Like gods.

You and Daemon walked inside the coffee shop, hand-in-hand. It was a small shop, near the borders of the city. You could see the United States which was a few dozen meters away, but you could also see nobody inside the cafe. "Are we sure that we're in the right place?" you asked and your – lover, nodded his head.

"It's an underground cafe, actually I think it's a beard for money laundering. You never truly know with the kind of things Olenna owns." he shrug while finding a chair for the both of you. The ambiance of the place was beautiful. There wasn't a barista or a cashier, but the smell of coffee grounds flooded your senses.

"It's a nice place, huh?" he smiled while a man suddenly appears with coffee for the both of you. "Thank you," you mumbled while accepting the drink. Daemon ushers for the server to move closer, "Where is Olenna?" he asked, like a man demanding for his share of work. The man named Loras smiles, his dimpled cheeks were in view. "She's in the back, Uncle Daemon." he replied.

Loras walked away, promising to call his grandmother.

"He's a nice boy." you mumble while taking another sip of the coffee. "He's the same age as Jace. Kids nowadays are innovative, they're always working – I can't say the same thing about me at that age though." he joked, earning a laugh from you.

"My lazy boy," you cooed and a woman enters the room from the curtain inside the kitchen. Daemon stands up, like he was giving her respect – you stand up too, feeling her aura. She was one of those people that you'd know was there when if your back was turned.

"Daemon, you look very dull." the woman says bitterly while pulling a chair to sit in between you. Olenna turns her attention towards you, staring at you deeply – trying to look for something behind your eyes. "You're a pretty girl," she stated while sitting down, prompting for the both of you to sit down too.

"Thank you," you mumbled while playing with the ring on your finger. She brings out a folder inside her suitcase. 'Aemond Targaryen' the file read out and your lover opened it as fast as he could.

"You had him checked?" you asked, and he nodded his head proudly. "You didn't?" he asked while narrowing his eyes. You were silent for a second, staring intently at him – there was silence, and then both of your lips cracked into a smile.

NAME: AEMOND TARGARYEN AGE: 27. GENDER: MALE

Daemon continued to read his file, the older woman opens her mouth to speak. "He killed someone." she said plainly, like it was a casual thing to do. Your eyebrows merged into each other in shock.

"He was twenty-one, and the girl was nineteen. The judge ruled that he wasn't guilty, but I have doubts about that – this is a small town. The judge was your brother's friend." Olenna pointed at the incident report. Daemon found the name familiar – the judge was their childhood friend. "I'm surprised that you didn't know." Olenna added.

"I was in Las Vegas at this time. I was watching a pageant. South Africa won by the way – now I know why they were all sullen when I returned home." he closed the folder, exchanging another glance with you. "Did you know?" he questioned and you shook your head.

"No."

"Where did you meet him?"

"A train in Canada – then we hitchhiked to the US." you explained, and he sighed. The dots were connecting with each other.

"If I see the timeline correctly. He fled Dragonview and saw you." he began while returning the folder back to Olenna. "Fucking coincidence." he mumbled while lowering his head on the table.

next chapter>>

taglist: @urmomsgirlfriend1 @namelesslosers @immyowndefender @ammo2022 @perihelioneclipse @gracielikegrapes @joliettes

WE ARE NEARING THE END GUYS!!

[space-station-collective]

what the fuck even is secondhand anxiety bro (/lh)

like. I'm sitting here, completely fine and just vibing

but also I am so anxious I'm dizzy? what's that about? I can't even tell who it is that's anxious nearby, usually I can tell and try to talk them through it

thank you, brain, for these 1:39am escapades lmao

-the host (he/they), and apparently someone else (?/?)

[mai4ever]

it’s my birthday and the first day of senior yeah and i’m still fat as fuck it’s 4:39am rn and i can’t sleep lolz only lost 2 lbs this week and i can usually lose 3 lbs im so hung up on that 1 lbs going to kms soon (not really because i can’t die well being fat) bye bye hope school goes ok for me 

[dhr-ao3]

A Day At The Beach

A Day At The Beach https://ift.tt/QgcakGO by ohthedrarry Hermione knew what she was doing. The moment she arrived back home from uni, she’d called up Ginny and gotten straight into her beaten-up sedan in search of the perfect swimsuit to torture Draco in all summer. Orange had never been her color per se, but this particular bikini fit her body in all of the right places and left little to the imagination. Good. She would need it if she were going to drive Draco mad and break through whatever “I’m your (step)brother” façade he would attempt to erect. It turned out that seducing someone you’d known most of your life, who you’d once shared a bunkbed with, was apparently a thing of fiction. But, she was Hermione Granger, and her father hadn’t raised a quitter. Or someone who took no for an answer. Or: The one in which Draco and Hermione go to the beach on vacation with their parents. Words: 4252, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Hermione Granger's Mother Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Step-siblings, Step-Sibling Incest, Pseudo-Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-Public Finger Fucking, Vaginal Fingering, Seduction, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Jealousy, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Feral Hermione Granger, Insinuated Theomione via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/6qNMirK June 20, 2023 at 02:39AM

[shrinking-slowly234]

1/4

I don't even know when to weigh myself today. I've barely slept, I've drank water, etc. I think I'm going to leave work early and go back to sleep and then weigh when I wake up. I'm feeling kind of sick right now.

* * *

I shouldn't have weighed myself yet. I should have waited until I went to sleep and woke up

8:39am - 217.8 lbs

* * *

1:15pm - 216.4 lbs ⬆️ 0.4 lbs

BMI ➡️ 37.126

Well, it's a gain, but that's a lot better than the 217.8 lbs earlier.

I need to do better about restricting during my eating phase.

* * *

Well I already fucked that up.

Tacos (1,200+ ?)

Lactation bar (210)

Dr.pepper (150)

* * *

So my husband said our scale is wrong. He has a scale at work that they have to have specially calibrated to make sure its right because of the weight limit on the equipment he uses and he said that the scale showed him as being 13 lbs less than our scale at home. Granted they were a couple of days apart at different times of day but still. I can't let myself hope though.

[ao3feed-tedlasso]

stifling

https://ift.tt/jzBiT4y by Call15 (rurambles) “Why do you care?” Jamie tries again, louder this time. “Why am I here?” He doesn’t want to leave but he needs to know why. Is it pity? He startles when Roy grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him inside but tries not to wince or show fear. Despite their differences, Jamie doesn’t actually believe that Roy will hurt him but he has a hard time moving from his spot. “You deserve to be safe!” Roy yells, not at him but in his general direction. He turns around and runs both hands through his hair. “Fuck! Jamie. Fuck. You deserve kindness.” He wishes it was pity. Words: 4139, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Ted Lasso (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Jamie Tartt, Roy Kent Relationships: Roy Kent/Jamie Tartt Additional Tags: Post-Episode: s02e08 Man City (Ted Lasso), Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, Ambiguous/Open Ending source https://archiveofourown.org/works/51637297 November 17, 2023 at 03:39AM