#people put whatever on name badges

[not-rome]

i have orientation for work tomorrow & im not dreading it but i’m dreading it

[hotchscoffeecup]

drunk dial

pairing: platonic aaron hotchner/reader

rating: t

word count: 8.1k

tags: implied sexual assault, referenced sexual assault

summary: when you drunk dial your boss in need of rescuing from a night club, aaron hotchner doesn’t hesitate to respond. the only problem? you thought you’d called emily. hotch insists on you letting him take care of you for the night as you’re in no state to be on your own. as the night progresses, you find that you’re finally able to disclose a trauma you’d kept buried for years.

“Hotchner,” he answers groggily.

A harsh sob echoes through the receiver and he sits up, bringing the phone down to view the caller ID. The dark slash of his brow furrows as he views your name and photo.

There’s concern in his voice as he says your name, but you don’t seem to hear it.

You heave another sob through the phone. “My friend left with some guy. And now this one, he won’t—” Your voice suddenly sounds far away the music pounding in the background overtakes your words. He’s missing information as your voice becomes clear once more. “He wants more than I’m willing to give Emily and I just want to go home.” Your words are slurred. “I just,” another choked sob, “I need he—” The line disconnects.

“Hello?” Hotch questions and tries your name again. He redials your number and curses as it goes to voicemail. Throwing back the sheets, he climbs out of bed and dials Prentiss’ number as he pulls a hoodie over his t-shirt.

She laughs as she answers, “Hotch, it’s past midnight. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

He cuts her off and curtly explains the call he’d just received. “Where is she?”

“Oh, um, The 930 Club. She’s—”

“Thanks, Prentiss.” He hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket. He grabs his raincoat and keys and swiftly exits his apartment.

The club isn’t far from his complex, but with Saturday night traffic in the heart of DC combined with the summer storm raging on, it seems to take ages. He lays on the horn as someone cuts him off and curses as he slams on his brakes. Briefly, he considers throwing the red and blue lights on, but thinks better of it. He’s not far now and after making it through the next red light, the club comes into view. Disregarding the no parking signs out front, Hotch pulls up alongside the curb and throws the SUV into park.

Despite the rain, a line stretches out the door. Couples and groups of friends clad in leather, satin, high heels, and sleek accessories huddle under wide umbrellas to protect themselves from the storm. Hotch approaches the door and a bouncer stretches his arm across the way.

“There’s a line, old man.” The bouncer inclines his head toward the line of anxiously waiting club goers. “Get to the back before I put you there myself.”

Hotch is unfazed by the bouncer and the sense of power his job provides him. Standing toe to toe with the man, he stares him down, his eyes hard. He reaches into his pants pocket and retrieves his badge. With two fingers, he flips it open and pushes into the bouncer’s face. “Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” he states flatly. “I’ve got an agent in trouble in there, so get the hell out of my way before I have you in handcuffs.” He’s bluffing, obviously, the bouncer has done nothing wrong. He doesn’t know that though, given how wide his eyes open in fear. He says nothing and steps aside, granting him entry.

“Thank you.” For good measure, Hotch drives his shoulder into the bouncer as he shoves his way into the noisy nightclub. His eyes dart around, scanning the scene. There are two long bars on opposite walls, a DJ against the short wall where dozens of people bump and grind against one another on the dance floor, and two levels of tall tables and booths for people to crowd around or sneak into to get away from the music.

On the phone, you’d sounded distressed. Your words were slurred and he could only hope and pray that you’d not been drugged by whatever “he” was with you at the time of the call. God, he could only hope that you were even still here. If he knew creeps as well as his job had accustomed him to, if a man was trying to procure a woman under the influence, he’d either leave immediately and attack her in a secondary location or he’d take her somewhere more private within the environment.

Pushing through the crowd, he shouldered past couples who shot dagger sharp glances at him and took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor. The music still pounded over the speakers up here, but this was clearly where people went to escape the bustle of the crowded dance floor and get away to drink or order food or conversate more

privately. He calls your name and begins scanning tables. Patrons dining or trying to steal a romantic moment glare at him. Some curse and tell him to fuck off. He pays them no mind. As he winds around tables, he begins losing hope despite there being much more of the club to explore. He has half a mind to shut the whole place down and call in the team, but that would be a gross overreaction. There is no evidence that you’re actually in danger or missing aside from a drunk misdial. Still though, his heart pounds erratically as he calls your name over the music.

He reaches the end of the second floor and at first doesn’t see that there are people in the booth they’re that far tucked into it. The man’s hulking frame blocks the girl from view and he knows it’s you.

“Hey!” he barks over the baseline.

“We don’t need anything,” the man says without looking back.

Fury floods his veins. Without a second thought, Hotch reaches for the man and grabs him by the back of the neck. He reels back, pulling the man to his feet. Catching his balance, the man pulls his fist back. As he aims to deliver a punch, Hotch ducks and sends his fist into the man’s gut. As the air vacates his lungs and he doubles over, Hotch fists his hands into his shirt and slams him back into the table. With the man immobilized, he looks up at you. A strap on your dress falls over one shoulder and your hair hangs limply, having fallen free of whatever style it had been in. You look at him from half hooded eyes, blinking slowly. The scene is spinning and your temples are throbbing.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks. His knuckles blaze white as the man struggles beneath his grip.

“Stop moving!” he barks.

“Can somebody help me?” the man calls.

Someone is saying your name, asking if you’re ok. The music is loud and your ears feel like they’re plugged with cotton. Things seem to move quickly and slowly all at once. Where are you? You’ve not left the club yet, but where did Mariah go? There’s your name again. God, you’re really out of it. Mariah left, you remember. She left with Andrew’s friend and Andrew, God, he wouldn’t leave you alone. When was Emily going to get here? There’s your name again. You blink hard and try to get your bearings. Though things are hazy and tilted through your alcohol laden senses, a picture starts to form in front of you. Aaron Hotchner, your boss, has Andrew pinned against the table in front of you.

“Sir?” you question, though the word feels far away and unfamiliar on your tongue.

Hotch raises his eyes from Andrew, concern reflecting back at you in them. Your eyes widen as you take in Andrew’s form beneath him. You glance down at yourself and see your dress straps pulled down, exposing the lace of your bra. What the fuck had he been trying to do before Hotch got here?

Two bouncers approach as a crowd begins to gather, people are always hungry for drama after all.

“Is there a problem here?” the first bouncer asks. He’s tall, built, and wears sunglasses despite it being dark inside. His ginger beard is bushy and his brow is pierced. He looks pissed as all hell that he has to be up here breaking up a fight. Hotch recognizes the other bouncer from the door. When they make eye contact, his eyes widen.

“Yo, Liam, that’s that FBI agent I was telling you about.”

Liam arches a brow, but his expression softens. “What’s going on, officer? Or should I call you Agent?”

Hotch ignores him and pulls Andrew to his feet, pushing him toward the bouncers. “Get this guy out of here,” he orders. He looks toward you again, his eyes searching for signs of further harm. He turns his attention back to Andrew.

“Did you slip her something?”

Andrew’s face screws. “What? No!”

Hotch steps forward, his face inches from his, and repeats the question louder, “Did you give her something?”

Andrew flinches. “No! I don’t do that shit, man. She took a bunch of shots with her friend. Guys were buying them drinks all night. I just—”

“You just what?” Hotch questions, his voice low and dangerous. “Wait for a woman that can hardly stand, take her upstairs, hide away, and see just how far you can take it?”

“Hey, she was into it!”

Hotch grabs him by the jaw. “Look at her!” he says. “She can barely keep her eyes open! That’s not consent, idiot!”

Andrew swallows and he looks like he might wet himself.

“Hotch,” you say and try your best to sit up, the world spinning as you do so.

Hotch releases him, but first leans in close to his ear. “If you ever, and I mean ever try this again, with anyone. I will have you arrested and will personally make sure you never see the light of day ever again. I was a federal prosecutor, so I know how to make charges stick. Do I make myself clear?”

Andrew nods vigorously and a tear slips from his eyes. “Not so confident now, huh?” Hotch whispers, disdain dripping from his lips. “Get him out of here.”

He watches as the bouncers lead Andrew down the steps. Hotch immediately turns his attention on you. He slides into the booth beside you. “Did he hurt you?” he asks.

Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of what’s happening. The music is so loud. Hotch looks around and then back at you. “Let’s get you out of here, come on.” He stretches his hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you out of the booth. When you find your feet, you stumble and he catches you, his arm bracing around your lower back.

“It’s raining,” Hotch says as he shrugs out of his jacket. “Take this.” He drapes it over your shoulders, his little finger curling under the strap of your dress and pulling it back into place as he does so. The smell of cedar and teakwood reaches your nose, a severe contrast to the club’s overarching scent of vodka, sweat, and the amalgamation of various perfumes and colognes sprayed in earnest.

The second you exit the club your head feels a fraction clearer. The air is muggy, the humidity amping up with the cold rain coming down after a week of intensely high temperatures.

Aaron reaches into his pocket and fishes out his car keys. He clicks the unlock button and the car beeps in response. He opens the door and helps you inside, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as you clumsily buckle your seatbelt to make sure you can get it on alright. Once secure, he gently shuts the door and jogs around to the driver’s side.

He slides into the driver’s seat and twists the key in the ignition. He places his hands on the wheel, but before shifting the car into gear, he looks at you, intensely. When he says your name, it’s gentle. It’s not the tone he uses in the office when he’s calling the team for a briefing or to review something you’d written in a report. There’s a warmth in his voice, and there’s real concern there too. “You don’t have to tell me,” he starts. “Just know that you can.”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as the world tilts on its axis. Your stomach roils and for a moment you’re afraid you might be sick. You take a deep breath and manage to hold it down. Hotch tilts his head, regarding you. “Is there anyone at home that can take care of you?”

“No,” you answer and this time you don’t shake your head to avoid aggravating the nausea. “My roommate is out of town visiting her family,” you speak slowly but your words still come out slurred.

Hotch nods and shifts the car into gear. “You can stay with me then, tonight.”

“No, sir I can’t let you do that. You’ve got Jack and—”

A smile cracks his stern visage as he pulls out into traffic. If you had your wits about you, you would’ve taken a mental snapshot as you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a genuine expression of mirth cross his face. “Jack is at his aunt’s. I wouldn’t have exactly been able to come out like this if he wasn’t. Beth has an event for work this weekend, which is why I’ve stayed back in DC. It’s no trouble at all.”

You sink back into the seat, a part of you unable to believe that this is happening while the other part of you is still trying to fully process what all had transpired in the last fifteen minutes.

“Hotch, how did you know—”

His eyes are on the road as he speaks. “You thought you’d called Emily. You called me.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, drawing out the last letter. A scarlett heat creeps into your cheeks and you cover your face with your hands. “So you heard—Jesus Christ. Oh my God.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hotch says, his words genuine. “I’m glad I can help.”

The rest of the ride passes in silence. It’s not long by any stretch of the imagination, but the constant stop and go traffic of late night DC has your stomach doing somersaults. You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your head against the cool glass of the window hoping it’ll quell the churning in your belly.

A quiet groan escapes your lips as Hotch pulls into his designated parking spot at The Langham. It stopped raining. As soon as he shifts the car into park, your stomach feels as though it’s just been bounced around like. ping pong ball. “Oh god,” you moan and fumble with the door handle. Somehow you manage to undo the lock and fling open the door. As soon as your feet hit the pavement, you rush over to the nearest bush, the vomit you’d staved off finally forcing its way up and out of your body. It’s vile, the way the alcohol and stomach acid burns your throat.

Footsteps rapidly approach and there’s a hand at your neck, gathering your hair. “Alright, ok,” Hotch says soothingly, his other hand rubbing up and down your back. “Get it all out, oh yeah, yep. There you go.”

When your body stops purging itself, you gulp down a fresh breath of air before spitting the acrid taste of bile from your lips. You stay like that, hands on your knees, and take a few deep breaths. “Do you have your gun?”

Hotch releases your hair as you stand, but keeps a steadying hand on your arm. His expression is puzzled, his brow arched. “No, why?”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the sidewalk leading toward the front entrance to his building. “To kill me now so I don’t have to live with the embarrassment of knowing my boss just saw that happen.”

Something between a laugh and scoff escapes Hotch’s lips as he catches up to you in two long strides. Him and his long ass legs, you drunkenly muse.

The lights hurt your eyes and your temples continue to throb as you let Hotch navigate your way through his complex. The walk feels excessively long and you wonder if all apartment complexes are this maze-like. As he fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door to his apartment you realize you’re actually at Aaron Hotchner’s apartment. You’ve never been to his apartment. You’ve been to Emily’s, Penelope’s, and Spencer’s apartments; Rossi and JJ’s houses, but Hotch? Definitely not. Suddenly you feel like you are about to encroach upon the shadowy place Mufasa warns Simba about in The Lion King.

You blink and that clears the weird image forming of Hotch as a cartoonish fatherly lion from your mind. You stumble through the threshold as he pushes the door open and curse as he catches you again. “These fucking heels,” you grumble. As you reach down to work out the straps your stomach flips and you groan.

Hotch’s eyes flare slightly. “Why don’t you stay up there?” he cautions. “Let me help you.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you respond, voice tight as your stomach threatens revolution once more.

He bends down on one knee and begins to undo the straps from around your ankles. He holds the back of your calf as he pulls the heel off and places it against the wall. You have to catch yourself on his shoulder to keep from falling but as soon as your foot falls flat on the floor, a languid moan leaves your lips.

“Good God, that feels so much better.”

He helps you slide out of the other high heeled shoe and stands. Without the heels on, he has a decent amount of height on you. You have to look up to meet his eyes, those eyes still shining with concern.

“Let me take the coat,” he says, lifting his hands toward you. You turn and shrug out of it, your limbs feeling awkward and heavy as you do so. He hangs it on a hook on the back of the door and gestures down the length of the hallway.

“It’s just the one bedroom,” he explains as he leads the way toward the main room. “You can sleep in my room. I’ll take the couch.”

“No!” you blurt. “No, no, no you don’t have to do any of that oh my God.”

Hotch chuckles in response. “I think you’ll thank me in the morning if you do.” Wordlessly, you follow as he leads the way to the aforementioned bedroom. He flicks the light switch on and the lamp on his bedside table illuminates the room. It’s simply decorated with store bought abstract paintings and dark blue linens on the queen sized bed. A framed photo of Jack sits on the nightstand, angled toward the bed. The idea of Hotch lying there looking at the image of his son tugs your heartstrings. You move past Hotch and plop down on the bedspread before reaching for the photo. You smile as you look at Jack’s crooked smile.

“He’s so precious,” you muse and poke Jack’s nose through the flat plane of glass. You look up at Hotch from where he stands in the doorway. “He’s lucky to have a dad like you, sir.”

Hotch smiles softly and crosses the distance to sit beside you, the mattress sinking beneath your combined weight. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll be honest, it's hard to feel like a good dad some days with our job.”

You bump him with your shoulder, or at least that’s your intention.You more or less use your entire arm to nudge him just barely. “You give him all the time you’re able, we all see that. If we do, Jack definitely does.”

You pass him the picture frame and smile. Hotch smiles in turn, his lips together. “Thank you,” he says as he places it back on the nightstand. “I hope he grows into a good man.”

“With you as his father, there’s no doubt. There ought to be more dads like you out there to teach their sons how to be men.” Your smile falters and your voice grows small. “Maybe then they wouldn’t try to see just how far they can push the envelope.”

Tears spring to your eyes and you use the back of your hand to clumsily wipe them away. Turn off the waterworks, you chide yourself. Your temples already throb from how much the alcohol, first round of tears, and vomiting dehydrated you, no need to compound it now with more tears.

Hotch says your name quietly. “You can talk to me, you know.” He pats your hand that rests atop the bedsheets. “I’m not your boss right now, I’m your friend.”

Your lip quivers as you stare blankly at the wall ahead. “If I talk about it, that means I let it happen. I’m a fucking FBI agent, Hotch. I should know better than to drink that much. I should—”

Hotch’s brow pinches. “Woah, woah, woah,” he starts, “where is this coming from? You know better than anyone that how much you drink doesn’t matter, that doesn’t entitle anyone else to you or your body. And fuck if you’re an agent, you’re allowed to go and enjoy drinks and a night out without worrying if some asshole is going to try and take advantage of you. I think I scared him within an inch of his life, too. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

But it’s not about Andrew. It’s not about tonight anymore. Tears slip over your lash line.They’re hot and fat and you hate how they have little minds of their own, dropping freely down your cheeks. You know what he says is true. Hell, you preach it to everyone, especially when you teach self defense at the local university. What you wear is never an excuse for someone to touch you. How you dance isn’t an excuse for someone to grope you. How much you drink isn’t an excuse for someone to lay claim to your flesh. The only thing that means yes is explicit, enthusiastic consent. You know this. You teach this.

But right now, it’s so hard to believe because that’s what you had to fight so hard to teach yourself when you first had to learn what happened wasn’t your fault.

You drop your head into your hands and stifle a sob. “God, it was nearly ten fucking years ago.”

“What was ten years ago?” Hotch asks, his voice soft and kind.

Oh God. You’d said that out loud.

You scrub your hands over your face and curse as you smear mascara into your eye. “Fuck!” you exclaim as your hand flies to your eye instinctively.

“I’ve got something I think can help,” Hotch says as he rises from the bed and darts out of the room. From your point of view, you can’t see anything but you hear bottles rummaging around from where you imagine is the bathroom out in the hall. When he returns he carries a small green package in his hand. He crouches in front of you and peels back the plastic film on the container. With two fingers he extracts a wipe and folds it in half. As he reaches for your face he hesitates, wipe paused in mid air above your cheek. “Is this alright?” he asks.

Sniffling, you nod. With one hand, Hotch gingerly wraps his fingers around your wrist. As he pulls it away, he uses his other hand to place the cool moist towelette against your eye. He holds it there for a moment before he begins to wipe and blot at the black swirls of mascara that had dried in tear stained patterns around your eyes and cheeks and whatever vestiges of eyeshadow remained. Once that wipe is fully soiled, he retrieves a fresh one; repeating the gesture on the other eye before moving on and clearing away what remained of your face and lip makeup. You don’t speak while he does this, and you don’t have to. You needed it. You needed that. You needed someone. You needed him. A friend. Someone that would ask no questions and just show up for you when you needed them most. No questions asked. And when he did ask questions, when Hotch did, there was no expectation to answer. But right now, in this strange moment, in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment, in his bed no less, you felt like you could finally tell someone.

“I was a teenager,” you say as he takes one final swipe at your cheek.

His hand freezes along your jawline and his eyes lock on yours. “You don’t have to do this,” he says gently, lowering his hand.

“If I don’t say it now on what courage the alcohol left in my system is giving me, I’m afraid I never will.”

Hotch sits back on his heels. “Alright.”

“I was dating an older guy at the time. I was a freshman in college. He was a senior; vice president of his fraternity. He came from a wealthy family, too. I was naive and so excited to be dating someone like that, someone with status. I grew up comfortably, but not that well off. He took me to nice dinners and bought me expensive gifts. We had a physical relationship, and it started out fine enough.” You pause and take a deep breath. “But we started fighting. He wouldn’t,” you pause. “I couldn’t get him to talk to me or communicate in any way that led to resolution when we did. He’d just keep apologizing and told me that he’d do better next time. He’d start kissing me to interrupt and then his hands would be in my pants and I just,” you stop and shake your head. “I thought if I could just deal with what he did physically, that things would be fine again if I just pretended I liked what was happening and got it over with. I thought that we’d go back to the fun, happy go lucky couple everyone knew us as. Until it happened again, and again, and again. When he graduated I finally felt safe enough to break things off once there was distance between us. I knew something had felt off about those experiences. It never occurred to me that that was assault.”

“You suffered through numerous unwanted physical advances because he emotionally manipulated you through stonewalling.” Hotch says quietly. It’s not an explanation, but validation of your experience.

A choked laugh escapes your lips. “I know that now. At the time, I thought assault was like what you see on TV. That it’s some stranger in an alley that blitz attacks you. I never thought it could be someone you knew, let alone someone you were in what you believed was a loving and committed relationship.” You shake your head again, a wry smile playing on your lips. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that the perpetrators were almost alway statistically someone the victim knows.”

A warm hand slips into yours. You look up and Hotch is looking at you intently. “What happened wasn’t your fault.” He says, squeezing your hand.

You lick your chapped lips and drop your eyes, nodding. “It took a long time for me to learn that.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” Hotch says. “To have gone through that alone,” he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” you reply, because what else was there to say? “I wasn’t completely alone. I did go to counseling throughout the remainder of my time in school, they had services for the students. There was a support group, too; one for people who’d experienced sexual violence. It was there I really learned that things weren’t my fault. Other people had experienced similar things. Without that, I don’t think I’d have made it through honestly. I definitely wouldn’t be here.”

His hand squeezes around yours once more. “I’m glad that you are.” He smiles and a dimple forms in his cheek. “I know I'm a better man for having known you. The team, hell, the impact you have on the lives of those going through the worst possible moments of their lives in these cases we work…you have touched so many lives for the better. Please never, ever forget that.”

You smile crookedly and it feels somewhat genuine. “What do you think gets me through the day?”

The throbbing in your temples intensifies suddenly and you screw your eyes shut, your hands moving instinctively to rub them. “God, I’m going to be so hungover in the morning.”

Hotch claps his hands together. “Let’s see if we can’t get ahead of that.”

He leaves the room and when he returns he has a glass of water. “Here,” he says and passes you the cup.

You graciously accept it and take a long drink, the cool water soothing your throat, raw from crying and vomiting. “Thank you,” you murmur.

“It would probably help if you got some sleep. Do you feel up to taking a shower?”

You scoff, “Ok, Hotch. I threw up and it helped a little bit, but I’m not that sober.”

He chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough. Let me at least get you some clothes. I know sleeping in a cocktail dress won’t be too comfortable.”

“Do you know?” you tease.

He presses his lips together. “Let me go see what I can find.”

You exhale a short laugh as he disappears from view and you fall back onto the mattress, a dull thud echoing as your body hits the sheets. You heave out a big sigh and stare at the ceiling. “This is a weird fucking night.”

You close your eyes and behind closed lids, it feels like you’re spinning. Yep, definitely not sober. You open your eyes and lazily reach up to start pulling bobby pins from your hair.

“Alright, I’ve got a pair of sweats and an old academy hoodie that should fit you.”

At the sound of Hotch’s voice, you let your head loll to the side. “You look absurdly tall from this angle,” you muse.

Hotch chuckles, “Spoken like someone desperately in need of sleep.” He steps into the room and drops the clothes onto the bed.

“Hotch?” you question, ignoring his last comment.

You roll onto your side and push yourself back into a sitting position. He arches an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Why is it you’ve got makeup wipes in your apartment?” You inhale sharply. “Ooo, are you secretly a drag performer?”

Hotch laughs. “I am not a drag performer, though I do think Anderson does drag brunch on Saturday mornings if I remember right.”

You blink twice. “I’m sorry, and you’re only telling me this now?”

Hotch shrugs. “I’m surprised you don’t know about it. Garcia does.”

Your jaw drops. “Garcia knows?? Oh, when I get my hands on her—”

“To answer your question though,” Hotch butts in, an amused glint shining in his eyes. “They’re Beth’s.”

A smile pulls at your lips. “Beth keeps things at your apartment? What are we talking, like, a couple of things on the counter? A drawer?”

Hotch’s eyes drop to the floor as a scarlet blush creeps up his neck and spreads across his cheeks.

“Oh my God, this is serious isn’t it?” You feel the apples of your cheeks as your smile widens. “Spill, Hotch! Should I be looking at outfits for the wedding?”

To that, Hotch raises his hands as a smile splits his lips. “Calm down,” he laughs. “We’re not quite at wedding bells, but we do see each other almost every weekend. With the commute on the train, it is easy to have a drawer or two at one another’s apartments.”

You feel like kicking your feet, you’re so happy. If anyone deserved this kind of joy and love in their life, it was Hotchner. God knows he deserved it after all the hell he’d been through, all the trauma he survived.

“I’m really happy for you,” you say. “Beth is a remarkable woman”.

Hotch nods, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “She is.”

You reach over and pull the clothes onto your lap. “Thanks, again, Hotch.” You toy with the sleeve of the hoodie in hand. “As horrified as I was when I realized I’d called you instead of Emily, I’m glad you came. I’m glad it was you.”

“We’re a team. We’re family,” Hotch replies. He leans against the doorframe. “Hell, I’m old enough to be your father. Maybe that’s why I’ve always felt a bit more protective of you, anyway. So, when I heard your voice on the line, there was no hesitation. I’d like to think if I had a daughter and she were in trouble, that someone in her life would do the same.”

You spring off of the bed, a little uncoordinated due to alcohol still gently buzzing in your veins at this point, and throw your arms around him. You bury your face in his neck and though, muffled, you say, “Thank you, Aaron. Thank you so much, for everything.” You don’t need to say what for, he knows. Your gratitude extends far beyond just rescuing you from the night club.

His arms snake around you, his palms pressed flat against the middle of your back as he squeezes you tightly.

“You’re so welcome,” he says into your hair. “I’m so proud of you, you know. Don’t ever forget that.” He pulls away just so and presses a fatherly kiss to your hairline, “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

You nod and brush away a stubborn tear. God, you’d think you’d have nothing left in the tank at this point. You stifle a yawn as you close the door. The clothes Hotch left you fit well enough; the warmth and coziness of the fleece lined fabrics acting as security blanket as you tuck yourself in between the sheets. You barely remember to flick off the lamp on the bedside table before crashing onto the pillows where the heaviness of sleep finally drags you under to the sweet realm of nothingness.

Three things are incredibly clear the second you wake up: one, it’s too bright and you have to squint against the white rays of sunlight cutting through the slats in the blinds; two, your mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton balls, you swallow but there’s not even an inkling of saliva to wet your dry throat; and three, it feels like someone has been slamming on a timpani inside of your skull.

You exude a long, slow groan into the pillow before rolling onto your side to get a glimpse of the alarm clock on Hotch’s nightstand. The red numbers blink back 10:23AM. There’s a fresh glass of water on the nightstand alongside two tablets and a folded piece of paper.

Your brow furrows as you prop yourself onto your elbow and reach for the note. You unfold it with one hand and in Hotch’s tight, neat scrawl it reads:

Ran out to grab a few things. I left some aspirin there on the table. You should probably take them.

-Hotch

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you mutter as you toss the paper onto the bed.

You try not to gag as the pills start dissolving on your tongue and quickly chase it with the glass of water. After washing them down, you make a rather unattractive display of gulping down the remaining water. You drink it so quickly that some spills over the glass and you have to use the sleeve of your sweater, well Hotch’s sweater oops, to wipe off your face.

It doesn’t sound like anyone else is home. Pushing back the sheets, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand and for the first time, the room isn’t spinning. Even though Hotch is out, you still walk on the balls of your feet as if you need to be quiet. It feels strange to be stepping out into the hallways and walking into his bathroom. Sure, you’d swung by his apartment a few times to drop off a file or other work necessities. You’d never been in his house though.

Walking in and using his bathroom feels so strange, like an invasion of privacy. Like his bedroom, it’s simply decorated. A shower curtain decorated with blue and green swirls lines one wall. Plush bath mats of a similar blue line the area in front of the shower and sink. His very few toiletries sit in a neat row to the left of the faucet on the sink. He’s a Gillette guy, interesting. You’d always taken him for an Old Spice sort of man. You hear the front door and stop profiling his bathroom, instead, quickly using it for its intended purposes. You can’t help yourself though as you dry off your hands. You pull open the two drawers beneath the sink and smile to yourself. The one holds all of Hotch’s things: razor, comb, toothpaste, the usual; the other is clearly Beth’s: makeup, hair elastics, and the green makeup wipes sit neatly inside among other items. You bump the drawers closed with your hips before making your way back out into the hallway.

“Hey, Hotch,” you say, “Thanks again so much for—” Words fail you as you look up and see JJ and Prentiss in his living room.

Wide smiles spread across their faces. JJ spreads her fingers and holds her hands in the air, “Surprise!”

Brow furrowed, you cross the room and let them pull you into quick hugs.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you all, but what’s going on? Where’s Hotch?”

Emily’s perfectly manicured eyebrows arc toward her hairline as she tilts her head, “He thought you could use a pick me up.”

“So, he called you guys?”

JJ nods. “We’ve all had rough nights, followed by even rougher mornings.” She inclines her head toward Emily. “Remember the morning Hotch ran that triathlon?”

Emily cringes. “God, don’t remind me!”

“Where is Hotch, anyway?” you ask, craning your neck around Emily and JJ.

“Oh,” Emily says, her lips forming the shape of the word. “He should be right behind us he—”

Just then, the front door swings open and it’s not Hotch.

“There she is!” exclaims Penelope. She waltzes into the apartment, adjusting the massive purse on her shoulder as she does so. Her knee length pink skirt swishes around her legs as she crosses the room to pull you into an embrace. The smell of jasmine clings to you as your face is buried in her chest and neck. She pulls away after a long moment, though her hands don’t drop from your shoulders. Her eyes scan your face. “Oh, sweetheart, look at you. Do not fret! Penelope is here to help get you feeling refreshed and revitalized!”

You look to JJ and Emily for help. “I look like shit, don’t I? Be honest.”

JJ shakes her head. “Noooo.”

Emily presses her lips together and tilts her head back and forth, “Well—”

JJ slaps a hand against her stomach and Emily winces. “What?!”

“Drink this,” Penelope says. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a bottle of yellow liquid. You take it and turn to read the label, Crisp Lemon Berry Pedialyte. “It’s got electrolytes. You need those!”

“Yes ma’am,” you say agreeably and crack open the bottle. The label makes it seem like it’ll be better than it is, but the taste is bearable. You need as much hydration as you can get at the moment, so you don’t complain.

“Sorry I took so long!” Hotch’s voice fills the room as he enters carrying a drink tray of coffees and an extra one in his free hand. “Line at the cafe was nearly out the door.”

“Oh my God, is that coffee?” you ask, salivating at the thought.

Penelope points a purple polished finger at you. “Finish that, then you can have coffee.”

He sets a cup down on the kitchen table before approaching them in the living room. “Non-fat, vanilla latte for you,” Hotch says, passing a cup to JJ. “London fog for Emily, can’t quite shake England there, can you?” he teases as Emily accepts the cup, not before flicking him off though with a cheeky grin playing on her berry red lips. Iced matcha green tea latte—”

“With soy?” Penelope questions, eyeing the cup suspiciously.

“With soy,” Hotch confirms and she accepts it happily.

“Last but not least, almond milk mocha for you.” He holds the cup out and smiles warmly. You hold his gaze for a moment, the exchange carrying more than a simple ‘thank you’ would allow for. He dips his chin just slightly in acknowledgment. As you reach for the cup, Penelope’s hand shoots out to intercept, her bangles jangling against her wrist.

“I’ll take that!” she chirps before taking a long sip of her own drink.

“Hey!” you whine.

Penelope gestures toward the Pedialyte with your coffee. “Finish!”

You roll your eyes and reluctantly chug the remaining liquid. “There,” you say and shake the empty bottle. “Happy?”

“Very!” pipes Penelope. “Oh! Here!” she reaches into her bag and withdraws a drawstring bag. Did she own the Mary Poppins bag? How did all of this fit inside of her purse? “I stopped by your apartment and grabbed a few things. Toothbrush, deodorant, change of clothes, the works.”

“Oh, Penelope Garcia, you are my angel!” You gratefully take the bag into your hands and disappear down the hall into the restroom.

The aspirin has started to kick in alongside what attempts you’ve made to rehydrate and the throbbing in your skull has dwindled to a soft drumming. Searching through the contents of the bag, you praise Garcia’s name as you find your skincare and toothbrush.

It takes all of ten minutes for you to brush your teeth, wash your face, and style your hair up and out of your face. Garcia had packed you two different styles of underwear, (leave it to her to give you the choice of thong or bikini styled undergarments. She’s probably also one of the only people you’d feel comfortable rummaging through your underwear drawer if you’re being honest) a pair of leggings, and a cropped Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. You change quickly and fold the sweats and sweater Hotch had lent you. You throw all of your toiletries into the bag and shrug it over shoulder before scooping Hotch’s clothes into your arms.

Hotch and the girls are sitting around the coffee table on the couch and recliner, enjoying their beverages. Penelope smiles widely when you emerge.

“There she is!” she exclaims. “I brought your Birkenstocks too. They’re by the door. Hotch said you’d worn heels out and I knew you definitely wouldn’t want to be in those.”

“Good call,” you say and take your coffee from Penelope. You take a slow sip of the warm mocha and moan.

Everyone laughs. Emily checks her watch and shoots up. “We better get going if we’re going to catch Anderson’s performance.”

Your eyes widen at that. “Wait.”

Emily smiles and nods. “Yep. He comes on in about an hour. We figured you’d need a nice greasy brunch after last night. The place he performs at makes a mean breakfast sandwich.”

“And potatoes with sausage gravy!” Penelope adds. “Though I’m more partial to mushroom gravy because precious baby piggies should not be slaughtered for my breakfast.”

“Okayyy, Penelope,” JJ teases as she loops an arm around her shoulders. “I’m pretty sure they added veggie sausage to their menu just for you.”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees. “They were probably afraid she’d hack their system and mess with their food shipments otherwise.”

Penelope looks over her shoulder as JJ guides her to the door. “I could do that!”

“Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that!” Hotch calls after them as JJ and Penelope leave the apartment.

“I wonder if they remember I’m the one with the car keys,” Emily says, her lips drawn into a warm smile. “Meet you downstairs?”

You nod. “Yes, I’ll be there in a second.”

Emily nods and leaves. You cross the living room toward the door where Hotch stands, one arm holding it open.

“Hotch I—

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“No, Hotch. I’m serious. What you did for me last night, I can’t even begin to thank you.”

“And you don’t have to,” he says, his tone firm. You look up and meet his unwavering gaze. “I would do it again without question. Like I said last night, we’re not just a team, we’re family. We look out for each other. We pull each other up when we’re at our lowest. In fact, I should be the one thanking you.”

You can’t help the quizzical expression that pinches your features. “For what? All I did was wake you up in the middle of the night, throw up in your bushes, and kick you out of your own bed on a Friday night.”

Hotch laughs and shakes his head. “Okay, well when you say it like that, it definitely doesn’t look good. What I was going to say though, is thank you for trusting me. I know that I wasn’t who you expected last night, but I’m glad I could be the one to help you when you needed it. Furthermore, I’m incredibly grateful that you felt as though you could trust me to tell me about your past. I know that can’t have been easy. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I hope it’s clear now that you’ll always have a listening ear with me.”

A surge of emotion courses through you in that moment and you can’t help but launch yourself at him. You loop an arm around his neck and awkwardly attempt to hug him with the other arm that stills holds his clothes, the bundle of fabric creating an odd wedge between your bodies. Hotch is taken aback by the gesture, but his arms comfortably fold around your back and he squeezes you gently.

“I could’ve used someone like you, you know.” You say after a moment. “I didn’t really have any older male figures I could talk to at the time it happened.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he assures you. “And I’m not going anywhere. That is, until Strauss gets sick of me.”

You pull back and scoff. “Yeah, like that’ll happen any time soon.” You hold the clothes out to him. “Here! Before I walk out with them.”

“It’s actually a bit breezy out there,” Hotch says as he takes the bundle and passes you back the sweater. “Why don’t you take this?”

You reach out and accept it, pulling it back into your chest. “I’ll bring it with me to the office on Monday.”

“Sounds good,” he says with a smile. “Oh! And you’ll probably want these.” He walks away and while he’s off grabbing whatever it is he’s talking about, you scoop your heels up off the floor and slide into your Birkenstocks.

Hotch returns with a pair of black Ray Bans. “If I know one thing about hangovers,” he says as he passes them to you. “It’s how horrible a sunny day can be on the eyes.”

He reaches for the door knob and pulls it open for you. “Enjoy your weekend. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

As you slide his sunglasses up the bridge of your nose, you curse. “Shit! The report on the McPherson case. I was going to work on it today. I’ll email it to you first thing tomorrow.”

“It’s already taken care of,” Hotch explains. “Emily and JJ took care of it for you before coming over this morning.” He’d orchestrated everything with them as soon as he’d woken up to make sure you had nothing to worry about today except for fighting your hangover. He’d not told them everything of course, he’d never betray your trust like that. Some things the team didn’t need to know, and that was okay. If you were ever ready to tell them, he knew you would in time. For now, he just told them that you’d had a tough night and would need some TLC from the girl gang. They hadn’t even bothered with follow up questions. The three girls were ready to drop what they were doing and change their plans to be able to bring comfort and fun to your Saturday morning. He’d have done the same thing for any of them if they’d been in your shoes.

Your lips quirk into a small smile knowing further words weren’t necessary to convey your gratitude and appreciation for all he’d done and continues to do. “I’ll see you, Monday.”

He smiles in turn, “See you, Monday.”

[hobiespick]

Sam Winchester x reader headcanons

a/n: if you thought I only made shitty Sam headcanons, WRONG‼️ cuz I also made a shitty moodboard (i'm extra like that yeehaw)

- Takes notice of the books you read, that is if you don't give him recomendations bc if you do that boy has a whole ass notepad and is a fast writter so try him.

- "Y/n would like this" "Y/n would probably know" "Y/n was right"- Dean gets seriously tired and makes jokes about how often Sam talks about you

- you think he's joking untill Sam isn't glaring daggers at him- but instead he starts blushing and straching the back of his head like a damn schoolboy.

- reads your body language very well- "What's wrong?" Sam asks putting all of his attention onto you. "Nothing" You shrug it off (you're not slick at all). "Bull." Sam chides still looking at you hoping you'll tell him.

-literally the happiest when you sigh defeated and tell him what's wrong but shakes it off to actually listen to you.

- uses the soft tone he talks to victims with on you- not because he thinks you're weak or fragile

- you're a badass and he knows it

- you complimented him once on it (his voice) saying he is good at comforting and how no wonder people open up that easily when he talks like THAT to them.

- "Miss, when was your neighbour killed?" All puppy eyes furrowed eyebrows and soft tone almost sticking his chin to his chest + that fake ass FBI badge, You: "Yes-"

- Sam probably met Jess through the art courses he took I'm sobbing-

- I watched that episode and I had no idea (I'm so happy google exists) what he was talking about and I'm damn art student jesus christ

- "It's good for meeting girls." So good- SHHSAJGSS I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH SAM PLEASE

- Artsy Sam save me, Please Artsy Sam

- So touch starved, hug this man PLEASE

- If you're an artist yourself and draw, sketch, paint whatever, he'll want to see it

- even teach him some stuff, LAWD

- researches stuff abt you when he can't get you out of his head- for example : the meaning of your name, your zodiac sign, which celebrity you share your bday with, etc (he can't help it)

- reads banned literature (isn't he so dreamy? 💞)

- his favourite movie is the notebook or pride and prejudice (and book!) because I said so

- Unconciously mirros your movements or tics, for example if you rub your nose with your wrist, he starts doing it too (it's contagious)

- Dean points it out but Sam wasn't raised to be fair so he justifies himself by saying he had that tic first and YOU are the one who started mimmicking him

- it's an ongoing war for some time but beacuse the system's corrupt the bastard lawboy Sam wins

- you two share an interest? HE IS SO HAPPY

- oh no! His t shirt accidentally made it's way into your bag! How did that happen? (It's him officer, that is the loverboy take him away)

- Alexa/google play good old fashioned loverboy by queen

- really likes earthy smells (freshly cut grass, pine trees and so on)

- Dean when he says your instead of you're

- love language is definetly quality time and touch

a/n: it took alot of self encouragement to post this so feedback would be very much appreciated<3! And for every person who voted "YEAHHH" on the poll, I hope your pillow is cold tonight 💞🫶

[nor-4]

Can you write Mike being into mean women 👀? Like the reader, working in the same place as him, and is super mean to him during work and he's into that?

Bonus point: they're super sweet to kids, especially to Abby, like a mother figure.

Part Two

OMGOMG I WAS THINKING ON WRITING THAT TOO

Request more guys I'm starting to love writing

Pairings - Mike Schmidt ft. Mean!Reader

Warnings - Cursing and probably offensive jokes

I'll make part two of this cause i really love it

You started working on this weird pizzeria as a janitor weeks ago it's not that much job for you because there's no weird activities the animatronics had made.

It's evening in the morning and mike is already running late for his first day at work, when he arrived he saw a car and the lock is gone. So what does the key for the padlock steve gave him for?

Mike approached the door unlocking the door as he slowly entered the pizzeria as he was greeted by a flickering lights of the welcome sign.

He saw you cleaning the place as a earpods is inserted on your ears, "Another guard again. Then after this shift you'll never come back." That was your greet, you are tired of people going to this place then after the night they wouldn't come back and another person will came again.

"I won't i really need this job." Mike remarked as you looked at him and rolled your eyes out of annoyance "Whatever you say big guy." You said as you continued cleaning as mike finds his way to the monitor.

Mike wouldn't lie he find it attractive, something about you has a hit for him. He hates it when people are mean to him, but you?? Oh God..

He finally learned on how the monitor works as he switch and switch the camera to see where you are cleaning.

He started looking around as he saw a tape that has his name on it he started it as the video showed him everything he needs to know.

As the video ended he started looking around more seeing the locker, as he open the locker as the balloon boy greated him with fear. "Don't hurt yourself just because of a toy." You remarked as you sweep into his way going outside the door.

You scared him more than the balloon boy scared him he is so head over heels to you, mike stopped thinking about the toy as he started wearing the vest.

It didn't took long for vanessa to come and visit at the pizzeria. "Hey shen, come in." You dryly said as it was raining outside for vanessa to be outside. Shen is your nickname for vanessa it's simple you accidentally pronounced vanessa's name as "vanesha" that's how shen is created.

"Ohh hi mike i see you are already here and this is (y/n) she's a janitor for like a week." Vanessa said as she made you both greet yourselves, "Nice to meet you." mike said he's so nervous but he is dedicated to meet you.

"You too.." You said as you came back to cleaning while vanessa showed mike the badges as an official pizzeria guard. "is she always been that mean?" Mike asked out of nowhere, he also didn't know why he asked it.

"Hmm i tell you always, but you'll get used to it then she'll cool down a little bit." Vanessa said as she started putting the badge on mikes vest, everything went well until you guys have to go home cause the shift is over. That makes mike feel a little bit sad since he know he's gonna wait for long hours, hmm seems like he has work crush now.

The next next night mike bring abby with him since max never came after the whole stealing thing on the pizzeria.

As every night you were always there first so mike didn't really struggle much as you already started cleaning.

"good evening (y/n)" mike greeted you as you turned around seeing a little girl beside him which excites you, "Ohh hi little girl.." You greeted the child beside mike waving to her completely ignoring mike's greet, as vanessa said he already got used to it on how many times he had tried talking to you.

"I'm (Y/n), what's your name?" You asked as you kneeled into her level as she gave the same energy you had, "I'm abby.." Abby responded as she shyly admired your beauty.

"Nice to meet you abby." You said as you smiled at her, "Mike how could you make abby stay this late." you scolded mike as he tried explaining but you shush him bringing abby with you into the room where mike works as you grab a few seats a long the way to make a fort for abby.

"How do you know i love fort?" Abby curiously asked as you started making the fort, "I don't really, but when i was a kid i used to love forts so i just thought you would like it." you explained as you are making everything perfect for abby to sleep.

"Are you hungry?" You asked abby as she sat beside the fort, "I'm not that hungry but thank you." abby said as she smiled seeing the fort as mike stand leaning at the door as he adored how you manage to gain abby's trust.

"Good night abby.." you said with a smile as you cover her up with blanket as she fall asleep fast.

"Stop staring and start helping me clean schmidt." You said as you stood up coming back to your mean self which mike really loved but seeing you act so motherly to abby makes him really feel happy.

Both of you started cleaning around the place which made both of you really tired especially thinking on how big the place is and stacking up the heavy chairs. Because of tiredness both of you decided to sleep on where the monitor is.

Another hour had passed as abby was woken up by a voice calling her, she is quick to respond as she crawled out of the forst seeing both you deeply asleep. She tried lightly pushing mike but he is still asleep.

Abby started walking around the place going to the main place where the animatronics are. Abby greeted the animatronics as it started approaching her.

Mike is already have with his dream as he is woken up by you "Mike! Mike wake the fuck up! Abby is gone." You said as you panickly said as you heard a scream making both of you run into the dining area.

"Abby!" Mike yelled as you guys saw the animatronics circling around abby as she kept on screaming, it didn't take a while for the animatronics to look both of you as fear creeped you.

As mike picked up a chair as if it has any use as the bear animatronics approached him, "Hey.. They're wouldn't stop thought i was gonna die. Freddy this is my brother mike and that's (y/n)." Abby said as she made freddy acknowledge both of you.

"Abby what is this?" Mike terrifiedly asked as freddy couldn't stop staring at him like a mad man, as he turned to you as you greet him with a wave. "Come on i wanna meet you the others." Abby said to mike as she grab your hands to meet the other animatronics.

"So this is bonnie, foxy and chica." Abby stated their name as mike slowly walked on where both of you and abby are standing.

[dailyunstableeve]

She's just dropping by to gear up

Jill valentine x cashier/soldier!Fem!reader (at the gas station)

tw: This contains smut, interact with caution. nsfw, some breast play, fingering, dom!Jill, sub!reader, some alcohol, Jill loves to tease, kinda a fall in love in first sight

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

“Day 258,” you signed, crossing out a date off your notebook. Your work here has become more and more boring, can't help it, you gotta pay the rent or else you'll be on the street, turning into a zombie.

Ew, thinking of it makes you shiver.

Lucky for you, there's not much people actually come to this gas station for anything so it allows you to blast music, when all you need to do is keep this place clean. Afterall, this is not just some normal gas station by the road. This gas station is also counted as a safe zone from the virus, if zombies start to roam around this area, which means things get way out of hand.

It's not everyday a new virus is created.

From the day you've been assigned here, it's only Chris who appears here, he’s on mission more than anyone, eventually both of you become friends. Sometimes he would invite you to have a drink with him.

Other than that, taking out the trash has never been your favourite of all the stuff you gotta do, no one likes going to the dark back space of the station, you really should push the trash bin next to the station at least there's a little light there.

You heard a car stopped in front of the gas station that made you jump and run back to the cashier. It's a truck, looks very dirty, you silently judge it but when a woman with short hair walks out from the truck, you keep your judgement away.

“Welcome!” You put on your smile.

Oh my gosh, finally a customer after so many days.

“Hi, I would like to stock up,” The woman said, holding her s.t.a.r.s badge up, Jill Valentine, she looked so tired.

If only I can help her rest.

“Yeah, follow me,” you swiftly shut down the gas station, pressing the button under the cashier, then a secret room appeared, “everything you need should be there.”

“Thank you.”

You watched her walk down the stairs to the room then you followed behind.

“So, why is a girl like you here?” Jill asked you as she's checking up on the stocks.

“Well, the pay is high, and I need to pay rent,” you shrugged your shoulders.

“Won't it be boring? Missing out on the actions?”

“Well if it takes for someone like you to show up here, I'm pretty sure it's worth it,” you chuckled.

To look closely, she's just too hot for you to not take your eyes off, you can't stop staring at her.

“Say, too busy to catch a date after whatever you're gonna do after?” You asked, believing your confidence could get you a date with Jill.

“That will depend on if I made it back alive or not,” she softly chuckled.

“I pray for your return, Jill.”

“Thank you.”

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

A week has gone by, you're still hopelessly waiting for Jill to appear, for once you were looking forward to getting a date, especially since you work in a place that's basically isolated from the city. The whole week gave you a lot of time to think about what kind of date you and Jill could do, but also at the same time, who will take over your place if you asked for a leave? Chris is the first name that appears since you only know him but you can't possibly ask him for that because you're gonna go on a date and he's actually higher rank than you are.

Oh Jill.

You wanted to see her so badly, your mind has been nothing but her face projecting everything and everywhere.

“Y/N.”

“Oh Chris, stock up?”

“No, not today, I'm taking the time to rest,” he bitterly smiled. All those missions he went to must be hard for him, at some point you can't even think what you would do if you were sent to fight zombies.

“Well, if they are asking for you, everything you need is here to get ready,” you laughed and brought out your secret stash, “do you think you'll be able to drink?”

“Call it your lucky day today.”

Three bottles have been emptied out, and Chris is on the fourth bottle.

“Ugh, I am so needed to get my tolerance up,” you complained at your poor tolerances with alcohol.

“Don't beat yourself up, you did better than last time,” Chris laughed.

“Sometimes, I feel like it's a great idea they don't have cameras here, only for the road outside,” you fell onto the counter, the alcohol slowly kicking in, causing your vision to turn wobbly.

“Chris, do you happen to know someone called Jill Valentine?” You asked.

“Jill, yeah I know her, she's my friend.”

“Is she doing okay? I wanted to see her,” you mumbled.

“How do you know Jill in the first place?”

“She stopped by to stock up,” you answered.

“She just recently reported in from her last mission.”

“I see.”

Jill must've been taking a rest after the mission, she'll appear when she is finished. That's what you told yourself.

An hour later, Chris is fully defeated by the alcohol, you have to drag him down to the basement room to let him rest there while you're still trying to sober up. When you got back up to the surface, you spotted a motorcycle outside the gas station and someone was on it. You thought it's someone asking for directions so you talked to them through the small window.

“Hi, sorry the station is closed at the moment,” you speak through the small window, if Chris isn't on a mission, no one is.

“I'm here to pick up my date,” that familiar voice that has been dangling onto your mind for the past few days.

“Jill?” you excitedly asked, hop out from the shop.

“Is this a bad time?” She asked.

“No, not exactly, it's just that I have a drunk passed out Chris Redfield down the basement,” you laughed.

“Chris? What's he doing here?”

“Well, to be honest, it's usually just him showing up here to stock up so eventually we became friends,” you explained.

“So, I'm taking it that you can't leave?” Jill asked.

“I can't, Chris is here and I'm actually still trying to sober up,” you awkwardly chuckled.

“That's alright, we can chill here.”

“I'm so sorry if you have any plans for today, I'm sure next time we can do it.”

Just like that, you and Jill had the date on top of the rooftop, it wasn't really bad, both of you took the chance to know more about each other.

“Well, I know I'm still trying to sober up, but can't spoil the fun for you,” you brought up the remaining alcohol that's left from you and Chris.

Both of you think that it would be fun if you and Jill play some games, such as truth and dare, so the game is on. You started out with asking simple truth and dare for Jill, taking it as a chance to try to know her better, Jill did the same, until you decided you wanted to do something more.

“Truth,” Jill chooses.

“Jill, why did you choose to be on this date?”

“Is that even a question that can be asked?” She frowned, hiding that slight blush off her face.

“C'mon, I'll let you ask the similar question to me later.”

“Well, you're cute, and you have the confidence to ask me out on a date, and from all those talks we had just now, you're an incredible person, and I would love to know you more,” Jill answered.

You hope it's illegal because of how Jill is making you blush at the moment.

“Truth or Dare?” Jill looked at you.

“Dare.”

“Do the one thing you wanted to do so badly right now,” Jill smirked.

“Oh wow, okay, embrace yourself then,” you chuckled as you moved from your seat, moving closer to Jill, both of you looked at each other as you leaned forward for a kiss on her cheek.

You and Jill hold eye contact, she rested her hand on your cheek, looking into your eyes then she leaned forwards, left a kiss on your lip. You returned one back, and she did the same. Jill pulled you closer towards her as she kissed you.

Jill slowly pulled away, holding your hands and rushed down to the basement, a different room from where Chris is sleeping in, she slammed the door, inviting you to join her on the bed that's supposed for pass by soldiers to rest in.

You can feel her touch, slowly caressingly running up and down your body as her soft cherry lip pressing onto yours, giving you the kisses you'll never forget. Her kisses were harsh but yet sweet, brushing your hair to the side as she played with your ear, giving that tingling feeling but all you can focus on is her lip, needing every taste of it.

Jill slowly moved her hand inside your top, drawing circles on your cute tummy, drawing a sensation in you, her hand moved more further up, lifting up your top, revealing that black lace bra. Jill breaks the kiss as she turns her focus to your body, “what a gorgeous you are, sweetie,” as she's sitting on you, looking down. Jill admired your body a little longer, when she met your eyes again, she could see the desire you are wishing so badly for.

You wanted to kiss Jill so badly.

You wanted her touch everywhere on your body.

You wanted to feel her.

You wanted to be hers.

But Jill just looked at you, with a small smirk on her face, she's enjoying this.

“Please Jill,” you mumbled, you felt the heat on your face so you tried to hide your reddened face as you tried to form words.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

You know, she wants you to use your words to beg for her, you slipped your needy side to Jill and now she’s waiting for you to tell her what you need.

“Manage to get the conversation out for a date, can't say what's next?” Jill leaned closer, whispered in your ear, fingertip drawing around your body, teasing your poor desire.

You started to blame the alcohol you drank with Chris just now, you can't think straight.

“I want you Jill,” you looked into her blue eyes, babbling out the words, “I need you Jill, I want to feel you, so badly.”

“Good girl.”

Jill single handedly unhooked your bra, removing every pieces clothings of yours, leaving your naked body bare on the bed. Her hand cupped up your breast as she gently sucked on it, while her other hand fiddled the other lonely breast, muffled moans started to fall out from your mouth, you had your mouth covered, afraid that Chris would hear you.

“It's okay, no one is going to hear us,” she looked at you, admiring the expression you have on your face at the moment, then continued back what she's doing.

You couldn't tell how long it has been for Jill enjoying her time with your breast, she made you feel so good but yet a part of your body is throating for more.

“You gotta use your words to ask for what you want,” Jill pinned down your lower body, you immediately looked down and realised what you did, a dark spot stained on her jeans.

“I want you Jill.”

“Where?”

You held onto her hand as you guided her to the between of your thighs, “here please.”

Jill leans in for more kisses as her hand continues drawing circles the area between your thighs, you wish her to touch, but she likes to tease you a little longer before giving you what you ask for. You squirmed under her touches, you started to beg Jill, mumbling words into her ears, letting her know just how badly you wanted her.

Jill slowly inserted her middle finger in your cunt, spreading up your inside, your body squirmed as you gripped on both of her shoulders, she started to push it more deeper in, as her thumb rubbing on your sensitive clit. Jill could feel every twitch you made, your sweet moans getting louder and louder in her ears, babbling words that can't be understood as she picked up her pace.

Your hip started to lean upwards to Jill, she knows this movement of yours proves that you're close so she pulled away, leaving you groaning and whimpering, asking why she pulled away. You know damn well the answer, she loves to tease and she will take every opportunity she has to tease you until she thinks you deserve to cum.

Jill gives your clit a few gentle rubs, then spreads your inside with two fingers this time. Jill quickly picks back up the pace, your slick juice dripping down from her hand and your thighs, the sloopy sound as Jill thrusted her finger in, hitting the spot, tells just how wet you are. Jill found your mumbling as you're trying your best to cum, cute. She wanted to tease you so much more until you can't even say anything but continually cumming on her fingers but you've been a good girl for her.

“I love you Y/N,” she planted kisses around your neck, your collarbone, your breast, your arch up tummy.

“I love you too Jill,” your arm wrapped around her shoulder, head resting on Jill's shoulder, mumbling her name with the mix of your moans.

“I'm gonna- cum,” you mumbled out, hooked your legs around Jill's waist, gripping harder onto her shirt.

“Cum for me sweetie, cum for me, Y/N,” she whispered into your ear.

Your eyes roll back as your head throws back while you are still gripping onto Jill's shoulder, your hip leans upwards and stays there for a while as you feel the electric shock running through your body and letting out the loudest moans.

Your body immediately flopped back on the bed, trying your best to catch your breath. You could feel Jill caressingly brushing your hair, a soft kiss on your lip, “you did a great job.”

“I love you Jill.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

Hands holding onto each other, Jill flopped on the bed together with you, pulling you closer so she could cuddle with you.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

an: Here's my pardon approach, this is the first time working on the smut, please pardon me for any mistake I've made, and ofc, do let me know which part could be improve so I can learn from my mistake ;-; I hope you guys somehow did enjoyed it ❤️

Masterlist

Imagine this is how it ended:

“And I might have lied,” Jill softly chuckled.

“What did you lie about?”

“The room is not soundproof.”

“Jill!” You jolt up, looking at her.

“I'm pretty sure Chris is still asleep at the moment,” Jill pulled you back into her arms, “we'll worry about it later.”

[teletubbyinlipstick]

DogWood Tree

Artemis. R.

“Only do what your heart tells you” - Princess Diana

(18+ for themes of assault. MINORS DNI! You are responsible for the media you consume. You have been warned.)

----------------------------------------------‐-----------

You were new to the BAU, having only been fresh out of the academy for 5 months, and an official “intern agent” for 3. It was understandable that you'd have hiccups along the way.

Yes, you had the badge, the gun, and the FBI vest you so dearly loved, but they considered you an “Intern Agent” as sort of a preliminary to see how you do with the team. See If you integrate well and adapt to a new habitat. Of course, you were allowed on cases. However, you always had to have a Supervisory Special Agent with you.

In all fairness, you were the youngest. Sometimes you need a guiding hand, not in a babying way-as you are 23 years old with a sound mind and job- but more of a young doe, wide eyed and eager to please.

Eager to impress.

Hotch and Rossi pinpointed that in you the second you walked in for an interview. Nervously playing with your rings, flushed cheeks, and every couple minutes, you'd tuck strands of hair behind your ear. It was sweet, so young and open. Could you really blame them for their instincts? They instantly took a protectiveness over you, treating you like family, almost like a daughter.

Not to mention how sweet the others are, adored with your youth and energy. Penelope gave you stuffed animals upon accidentally learning of your ever growing collection. JJ and Luke somehow memorized your coffee order immediately, and since you tended to show up 40 minutes after everyone, the two often took turns bringing you coffee.

Emily and Morgan were definitely your big brother/sister; they teased you relentlessly, ruffling your hair during training or round table meetings. Being the youngest was something they loved to tease you about. Arguing over who gets to “babysit” first. Morgan likes to hold your badge out of reach and giggle like a psycho when you inevitably climb a chair to reach it. Although the look on his face when Hotch scolds him for teasing is so worth the irritation.

The only one you couldn't quite figure out was Reid.

Spencer Reid.

An anomaly like no other, a mystery by any other name. The man doesn't say much to you outside of work. He's very warm, open, to the others, but he shuts down a bit when it comes to you. In fact, you can count on one hand the conversations you two have shared that didn't involve work. Those moments are beautiful, the soft giggles and his lips quirking up as he gazes at you with something you can't quite put your finger on.

They never last long enough for you to decipher. You can tell when he comes to himself a sudden, sharp, intake of breath before he tenses clears his throat and makes a beeline for the opposite end of the room. It's a bitter end to the brief sweetness.

You've tried to soothe the burn of whatever scorn you've caused from him, bringing him ginseng honey tea because JJ said it was his favorite. Only for him to smile strainly and leave the cup full at the top of his desk…so maybe he's weird about people touching his food and drinks…that's okay! Generosity comes in many forms, so next you tried holding a door open for him and quickly never did it again because the look he gave you made you want to crawl into a closet and rot.

It seems whatever kind favor you do for him irritates him greatly time and time again. It's exhausting and you can't imagine what you've done to warrant such…animosity. You were determined to please. To get to the bottom of this.

You were nothing if not stubborn!

Currently, the team and you are in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Having been flown out the night prior for 4 missing women reports, 2 bodies showed up downstream a river right outside a camp ground. All young, early 20s, camp counselors.

Upon landing Rossi and you were paired and sent to the camp, specifically the cluster of cabins where two of the women bunked together. In the car you both bounced theories back and forth a major one being he was a camp counselor who was rejected/humiliated by other counselors. Perhaps he was a grounds keeper, a sudden stressor has him reacting.

Rossi heads towards the front office intent on having a looj at the files. You trek on to the first cabin, Rebekah Daniel's was the first to go missing. The door was taped off caution signs covering the blood and dirt stains across the porch.

Entering the place was foul, it smelled of something awful and it was throughly trashed. A clear sign of a struggle. You do a swoop of the room where you find a snapped necklace caught under a window pane. Possibly where he had dragged them out.

Hotch calls not long after Rossi and you meet back up. Stating him and Reid might have a more defined geographical location of the unsub. You both conducted interviews with the other campers, splitting them into groups before dwindling down to one on one.

It unfortunately didn't bring much to light, so, heading back to the station you give Rossi and run through of what you found. He squeezes your shoulder, a proud grin on his face. Giving you a "good job, kid." For the effort.

It was time for the second update on JJ and Emily as they interviewed the girl's families. Something felt off the rest of the night. You couldn't pinpoint what exactly, but you were on edge and frustrated with how the interviews had gone…you're missing something. You just know it.

Now, technically you weren’t allowed to get on crime scene sites without a Supervisory Agent with you…but you had a random stroke of luck when remembering the writings on the bathroom stalls out near the campground you and Rossi had Investigated hours prior. So, really, who could blame you?

And that's exactly how you ended up running through the woods in nothing but sweatpants, sneakers, and a baggy t-shirt. It was almost 2am, your phone was gone, your jacket was gone, and most of your dignity was also gone. When you arrived, it was quiet, settled, and you were quick in getting to the stalls and snapping photos of the writing. Intending to study them at the hotel rather than in the woods…in the middle of the night. So imagine your surprise when your full force body slammed into the wall, ears ringing as a boot stomps onto your stomach. You have enough sense to latch on the leg the second time it comes down and use it as leverage to kick up into the man's groin. Scrambling up and over him crashing through the bathroom door frantically dialing Morgan's number.

You can hear him behind you. A snarl sound coming from his throat as he chases, It's predator and prey. Morgan picks up on the 4th ring.

“Yo, this better be good, kid.”

Barely managing a sharp squeal/wail when you're tackled again, phone flying from your grasp. Not hearing the frantic tone of Morgan calling your name. The man - who you now know is the unsub - grabs a fist full of your hair, his hand as big as your head as he shoves your face against the rough dirt and rocks.

“What a sweet little lamb you are. What're you doing all by your lonesome?” his voice was gravely, almost ill sounding, and you cried till your voice was hoarse struggling under him. A horrible sound of a zipper has you tensing, your left arm frees with his sudden pressure change. And you take that opportunity to pull your arm back, then snap it against the unsubs nose, and you can hear the sickening crunch of cartilage and bone. It's pitch black, and you don't notice the steep drop both you and the unsub come close to. Desperate to live and running on animal instincts, you use another pushing point on his outer thigh to create distance. You're up and on your feet, balancing on your left leg to deliver a swift kick to the head with your right when the unsub gets to his knees. motherfuckers got perseverance.

A brief glint catches the moonlight, and your eyes widen. Oh fuck.

He's got a gun.

Your delay was your downfall. In your sudden pause, it gave the unsub enough time to aim and fire. The bullet takes home in your shoulder, stumbling back, almost dazed as the ground gives way, and you plummet down a steep hill.

Oh god...

The team is gonna kill me.

------------------------------------------------------

This is nothing but one big rough draft I edited where I could, but yeah, it's not meant to be perfect. I hope you enjoyed it tho! Please feel free to give advice or point out any errors! I have a whole story in my mind, I'm negl. I don't know if I'll continue it, but imma try because I have a huge idea where it goes next so....maybe expect? I'll update more if anything changes.

[fuck-customers]

Why the hell are customers so adamant about knowing an employee's name. Hello, there's a reason I refuse to wear my name badge, I don't need you addressing me by name like we have any sort of relationship outside of you bugging the hell out of me while I'm paid too little to deal. I don't mind the regulars I like knowing my name, but when random people pry it makes my skin crawl. Buddy, I'm just here to do my job, you don't need to know alla that.

One guy once stole the receipt from the printer and used that to find my name, and now every time I see him he goes "Hi X! How are you?" Or some variation and I want to punch him in the face. Shut the fuck up. Stop saying my name like we're close, we aren't and I wish you'd fall down several flights off steps.

To anyone thinking "oh that's not so bad, it's just ur name so what?" One of our creepy regulars used one of my co-workers first names to somehow find her Facebook and messaged her there persistently for months, all while my workplace did nothing about it. Fuck customers trying to pry into an employee's personal life. Just leave us the hell alone.

Can you give a fake name? I would always put whatever name cashiers wanted on the receipts when I work in the office. Our cashier systems are separate from payroll so we can edit the name on the receipt to "generic NPC" if I wanted to.

-Rodney

[cario55555]

Gonna be taking a bit of a break from art and such and so, specifically cotl stuff mainly because i got abunch of wips in the backlog and others stuff to doodle but also i like this little freakshow im making too so have abunch of fun facts about the funny lamb universe i got goin on for now under the cut

⁍ The Lamb would canonically win in a fight against 4 Leshy's or 2 Heket's, but not 3 Shamura's or 2 Kallamar's. ⁍ The Goat literally just walked into the Cult and acted like he already knew everyone. This somehow worked for 3 years. ⁍ I have no idea if Narilamb is canon in this or not, but if it was then it would not end well for anyone ⁍ Plimbo is the best character, this is a fact and you cannot dispute it. I tried designing him like 8? times and I just couldn't get it in a satisfying way. this is because he is without flaw. ⁍ The Lamb was fully aware of the prophecy before the beheading. They were counting on it. There is blood on their hands. ⁍ Sozo is very dead. Whatever's walking around the Cult, that's not Dr. Sozonius. ⁍ Look at this thing I can do ☺ isn't that wild ⁍ It takes place in a permadeath save. This means that the Lamb's delusions of power definitely weren't helped by the fact that they BARELY even knew Narinder, and the fact they killed 5 gods without sleeping. ⁍ Also Lamb killed Narinder lol ⁍ Mystic Seller is named "That Which Takes" ⁍ Leshycat's canon but I'll never design them its just gonna be like in Tom and Jerry where they're just slightly offscreen at all times ⁍ Midas that rat fuck owes me 20$ ⁍ Surprisingly, Heket got the closest to killing The Lamb. She wears this as a badge of honor, or as a means to make fun of the other Bishops. I forget which. ⁍ I might make a fanfic one of these days based on cult of the sham but it'd literally just be an always sunny episode lol ⁍ Webber is literally the exact same as the one from Don't Starve. They had to put him down because he kept placing spider nests all over the Cult, and Pigs kept trying to throw down. ⁍ A little gnome just ran behind you when you weren't looking. ⁍ The Lamb is ambidextrous, this is because I keep forgetting which hand to have them hold stuff with. They also have no idea what this word means. ⁍ The gnome ran behind you again you gotta pay more attention to this stuff ⁍ ☺sorry i didn't mean to do it that time ⁍ Clauneck and Kudaai like switching clothes and acting like eachother to fuck with people, it works every time without fail. ⁍ Aym and Baal are hanging out with Forneus. The Lamb didn't let them do this, they literally just booked it as soon as they got the chance and Forneus totally could beat the shit out of The Lamb. ⁍ help its red now ⁍ nevermind we're good ⁍ Ratau was driven mad by the crown. He's had the knowledge of the gods ripped from his skull and delicately placed onto some psychopathic woolen beast. He's not all there. ⁍ Any time I'm working on COTL stuff I'm usually listening to King Gizzard and the Wizard Lizard. To get the general tone I try and set, listen to their album "I'm In Your Mind Fuzz". Good stuff. ⁍ The Industrial Meat Grinder incident was an inside job.

thank y'all for all the support, means the world that people actually like the delusional ramblings that come out of my brain at...

yeah that tracks.

also one more little mini preview for a drawing that might get finished one of these days idk

why is webber there i genuinely do not remember???

[parasiticacidic]

A NonBinary Visor I made at work for Pride!

I work at a leather shop and we get to make special projects for the store so I really wanted to make this enby one specifically because even though leatherworking is very lgbtqia+ friendly you also have the other end of the spectrum being conservatives who make their disgusting opinions very evident whenever they come into the store so to deter those interactions I've been trying to make more pride items for our really amazing lgbtqia+ community along for us staff members :3 idk why people look at me with red hair square pink glasses while I'm wearing capris and think lemme "debate" them on people using they/them pronouns >:[ BABE GET A GRIP!

(Also the amount of disrespect and hate I get for just being/presenting as a young women working at this store is insane)(so I know it's just as hard if not harder for the other lgbtqia+ workers in our chain putting up with bullshit customers will say to us)

(Example of an interaction i had: I was just tending the register when someone comes up with his wife and son and the first thing he said was "Do you work here" and I'm like obvi ? Then he said "No, do you work here work here like do you actually know anything about this stuff" and I was like "I do this is my name badge" (also I was trained?? Extensively bc we also do leather classes so I need to understand and know different things) and then he was like "well I'm just wondering bc I have a question, is there actually a difference between leather paint and acrylic paint" I said "yes they are formulated differently but if you wanna know specifics read the ingredients on the label" like tf I'm not gonna be nice all for that build up of your question like I'm not qualified to answer just for it to be about paint (I'm also a painting major?!) bc if it was my male co worker working the register you wouldn't have lead with "do you work here" you would've just asked, like NO IM JUST STANDING BEHIND THE REGISTER BC I WONDERED IN OFF THE STREET uuuguggjrhrhrhrhr, also his wife and son just watching this interaction??? There's so much that could be said about that but whatever my beef is with him, like it's not a big deal but it's the way men feel like they can come up to me and immediately question my credibility working here) *steps off my soapbox*

Anyways (ToT) happy pride! The amount of ridicule we face in the work place is beyond disrespectful they don't even need to know anything about you they just size you up and immediately come to their own conclusions about you and treat you a subhuman when they are the actual animals, in the end we have a better understanding of ourselves, humanity, honesty, and bravery when they will never be able to escape from the cage society has put their minds in (which ultimately is sad for them but if you're a conscious being there's moments in your life when you can reflect on your self and the environment around you and find your truth instead of continuing to "play your part" but the animals that benefit from the system will never seek change and will hate on the ones who defy their "normal" always out of fear)

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕭𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖐

Derek danforth x gender neutral reader

Summary: as Derek’s personal assistant, it’s your job to do whatever you need to in order to make your boss’ day run smoothly.

This is like a continuation of the other story that I wrote for Derek, but can also be read as a standalone.

You can also read this on wattpad or ao3

Warnings: gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Smut! Oral sex (reader giving). Dom Derek. Boss x advisor relationship. Sorry for bad grammar. Sorry if it’s cringe. Enjoy :)

Word counts: 3000+

The coffee pot is already halfway empty when you walks into the staff kitchen at half past eleven, the handle of your green and white spotted mug hanging loosely from your fingertips. You nod a greeting at a coworker of yours, scrolling through her Blackberry as she sips from her own orange mug, and step up to the counter. Setting your cup down on the linoleum surface, you grab the pot and fill the cup two-thirds with the liquid energy that doesn’t work as well as it used to.

The office is abuzz with the usual hustle and bustle. People huddle around the coffee machine, tapping away at keyboards, and discussing weekend plans.

You could hear whispers barely audible from behind you.

You strut past, your chin held high. You catch their stares but don’t flinch.

They are more than likely talking about the purple constellation that adorned your neck.

Courtesy of the esteemed boss, Mr. Danforth. They are like a badge of honor, they show how dedicated to your job you were.

You open the cabinet overhead and digs out three packets of sugar and a stirrer. Tossing them next to your mug, you traverse the small space to the fridge and pull open the door to grab the hazelnut creamer off the side. When you turns around, closing the fridge door with your elbow, Mickey is squeezing into the room around the woman as she leaves.

“Need a boost already?” Mickey asks with a bit of laughter in his voice.

Mickey is one of the members of the UDG and, although he and you aren’t particularly close outside of the office, he makes for good company during the day.

You offers up a smile before returning your attention to your coffee. “I’ve been running around all morning coordinating the arrival plans of various investors,” you explain, opening the creamer and filling your mug the rest of the way. “And there’s that joint meeting with Production after lunch so I can’t risk passing out.”

Putting the creamer aside, he tears open all three packets of sugar at once and pours them in.

Mickey hums sympathetically even though he’ll be sitting in on the meeting as well. He takes a quick look at the side of your neck, rolling his eyes at the indecency in trying at least to hide obvious things. He goes to grab a cup of greek yogurt with his name written along the top and side in thick, black marker, nabbing the creamer on his way to the fridge to put it back.

You gently stir your coffee to dissolve the sugar. You curl your fingers around the handle, careful so they don’t brush against the burning stoneware.

“Long night, eh?” He said while glancing back quickly at your neck with his eyes.

“Oh, you have no idea.” your eyes gleaming as you remembered the party that occurred the night before.

You raised the mug in a wave and laughed at the annoyed pinch of Mickey’s eyebrows. Lifting the mug to your lips, you take a sip off your coffee as you turn to walk through the floor back to your own office. It’s still much too hot, and you may have overdone it on the sugar, but you need the caffeine to kick in sooner rather than later.

You walk past, triumphant, leaving behind your coworkers still whispering behind your back, unapologetically proud. Because sometimes, in the corporate jungle, you’ve got to wear your bruises with pride.

The department is in a casual disarray with the preparations for the afternoon meeting, the potential launch of a new line of products the main stressor. It’s still rather early in discussion; all of the serious panicked overtime work won’t happen for another couple months.

Taking another sip of your coffee before placing your mug down on the coaster you drunkenly stole from a sports bar a few months ago, you drag over your tablet. You tap and drag your stylus over the screen until you pull up your email. There’s already five new emails in your inbox.

You sigh from annoyance.

At the light call of your name, you push out of your lazy lean over your desk and straighten up. Turning over your shoulder, you lock eyes with your boss. The slightly older man rests against the open doorway, a hand tucked into the pocket of his light green slacks. He wears a light smile that quirks into something of a smirk.

His pupils were dilated.

The fucker was already having fun without you.

“Yes, Mr. Danforth?” you answer, fully facing your boss with your head resting on the back of your hands closed with your fingers intertwined. Your eyes start to wander toward the floor but you drag them back up to the older man’s face.

Your boss looks you up and down with purpose. “Come into my office for a moment, please?” He talked with that preppie teenage snot voice that you’ve come to like more and more.

“Now?” You hide a grin behind your hands. You could hear footsteps of other coworkers.

“If you have the time.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes on your boss as the older man steps out of the doorway and walks across the hallway to his own office. Once he’s out of sight, you heave in a deep breath.

You grab your coffee, taking one last drink while it’s still warm because you know you’re not going to be back before it cools.

For being the CEO of a ‘successful’ company at the young age of twenty-eight, Derek Danforth has a unique head on his shoulders.

As his personal advisor, you know a lot of Derek’s quirks — the signs he’s not as indefinitely happy as he seems and wading in stress. Signs like the way his eyes were iced over a moment ago, and like the way his fingers twitched where they hid in his pocket.

And it’s your job to keep Derek ‘in check’.

It had started with a stealthy look during a meeting, when you were still relatively new to the job.

Then with a stolen smile in the hallway.

Then with a light exchange of words while you were still working at night.

To then sex whenever the two of you wanted to.

Every encounter was a risk (at least for you in the beginning), but the thrill and the passion had overwhelmed you two like a stormy wave.

You step into Derek’s office, eyes on the tips of your shoes. You drag the door shut and twist the lock behind your back without raising your chin.

“Yes, Sir?”

Derek’s fingers tap along the surface of his desk, the skips in rhythm a confirmation that he’s under stress. They stop, and then you hear the slide of a computer mouse over a mouse pad followed by a click and a flurry of typing.

And you wait, playing with your fingers behind your back where Derek can’t see. (Although he probably knows that you are fidgeting. You always had a problem with fidgeting.)

The tip tap of Derek’s fingers moving over the keys echoes in the spacious expanse of his office and the lack of immediate attention leaves you to hover between alertness and disconnect.

“Come sit,” Derek says at last, tone conversational.

You lets yourself disconnect a little more, the command enough to push you into a pleasant haze. You bobs your head in a nod. “Yes, Sir.”

Derek isn’t one for flair but the visitor’s chairs in his office have cushions like clouds. You leave a subtle hint every once in a while that you want to know where they came from but Derek has yet to divulge.

You want to reach out to touch the back of one of the two chairs, but you keep your hands to yourself as you round the desk and stop at Derek’s left. You catch a glimpse of Derek’s desk as you drop to your knees.

There was some strange paper that looked like a sort of message but you had no time to read it as the paper was instantly crushed by Derek’s fingers and thrown to the trash.

Derek sinks his fingers into your hair with an approving hum.

A quiet exhale blows over your lips. You lean into the touch, letting your eyes fall shut as you’re petted. When your mind starts to wander, you lose track of time, so you don't know how many minutes pass before Derek turns in his chair and guides you between his spread legs.

“Do you mind helping me out?” Derek asks in a needy voice, massing his fingers into your nape.

You hum, pleased. The fingers at your neck press harder and you pull your eyes open. “Of course.”

Derek’s hand leaves your neck and travels to his belt.

“Actually...” you meet Derek’s eyes for the first time since entering his office. The heady gaze of hunger makes your cheeks tint and your heart soar. At the quirk of an eyebrow, you know to continue. “I was waiting until after the meeting but I have a proposal for you.”

Derek’s right eyebrow raises to join the left. He leans back in his chair and props one of his elbows up on an arm rest. “Show me, then.”

You rise to your feet. You preen under Derek’s attention, squirming cutely as you undoe the button and zip of your pants and inches them down to your knees, along with your underwear. Waddling to face the desk, you spare a glance back at your boss before moving his laptop off to the side.

Resting your weight onto your elbows, you leans over the desk with your unbuttoned slacks held up by spread thighs. You swipe your tongue over your lips and shifts your weight onto one arm, reaching back with the other to spread yourself open for Derek to see.

The chair creaks a bit when Derek raises out of it.

“You’ve been stressed as of lately and it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it to me. I was hoping I could—”

“Quiet.”

Pressing your forehead against the desk, you bite back another whimper and clamp your lips shut.

Derek’s fingers are cold as they trail down the slight exposure of your back and over the curve of your ass. Already properly ready to take him thanks to you.

“How many times have you come today?” He rubs his finger up and down.

You shake your head.

Clicking his tongue, Derek bears his hand down on your ass, the slap light but scolding.

Your breath hitches and you exhale out a small giggle, soaring a little higher after the hit. “Zero.” You answer properly.

“I’d love to fuck you loose and then turn you over the other side of my desk. Unlock the door and let anyone who comes in see how beautifully you gape.”

Whimpering, you clench around nothing under the effect of his finger. Derek rubs circles into the small of his back, shushing you under his breath.

“You want it that badly, eh?”

His words get lost in the clouds filling the space between your ears, making his voice a dull noise that sounds like it’s happening outside the walls of the office.

“Sweetheart?”

Giggling, you press your cheek into the desk and tries to look up at your boss.

Derek pokes the tip of his nose and chuckles when you scrunches it. “You went down further than I thought you would,” he mumbles to himself. “That’s fine. I guess we both need it.”

You stare at him starry-eyed, grin uncontrollable, as Derek retrieves his fingers and yanks your pants up.

Beginning to work at his belt, Derek nods at his advisor. “On your knees”

A part of you wants to whine at the command — wants Derek to touch you, wants to be able to touch yourself — but the gruff voice of your boss’ voice scrapes over your skin and leave you warm and obedient. You push yourself up and easily return to your position on the floor, back pulled straight in attention and arms folded behind your back, hands curved around your elbows, in denial.

Derek brushes soft fingers over your cheek and under your jaw. “Aren’t you so beautiful like this, sweetheart?” He slides his belt free and loops it around the back of your neck. With a harsh tug, he pulls your face to his crotch.

“We don’t have a lot of time, so you’re going to suck me off and then I’m going to send you out,” he explains. “But since you prepared such a nice present. Sit close to me during the meeting so it won’t be as boring. If you can make it through without needing to excuse yourself, we can just leave, maybe go back to my place and fuck over and over. I don’t need to explain to you what happens if you can’t resist, clear?”

“Crystal,” you slur, mouth smushed against the stiffening swell of Derek’s erection.

Derek releases the belt, leaving it hanging around your shoulders, and let you work at the button of his pants.

You lower yourself to sit back and to be in line with Derek’s hips.

Without answering, Derek opens his pants enough to pull himself free. His cock hangs heavily between the green flaps of his slacks, already hard enough to hook to the right. Leaving one hand loosely curled around himself, he presses the fingers of the other to your lips.

You part them, still looking up at your boss with starry eyes. Derek teases a finger along your bottom lip.

He chuckles brightly but a second later his entire face closes off. “What are you smiling for?” His voice sinks nearly a whole octave and, as expected, your tiny grin drops.

Breath quickening, you quickly lower your gaze and try to straighten your back impossibly more, the sound of Derek’s voice hitting that particular low knocking you into another level of submission.

The fingers at your lip hook over your teeth and pull his jaw open wider.

“Excited to have my dick?” Derek angles his dick up and rubs the shaft, already smelling thick with arousal, over the ball of your cheek.

Your eyes begin to glaze over where they’re glued to the fall of Derek’s light green or seawater tone dress shirt over the base of his cock. You try to blink yourself out of it, faintly aware of where the two of you are and your limits, but when the hand at your mouth leaves and drags back along your jaw to settle like an anchor at your nape, the desire to sink is so inviting.

“You’re my sweet, little cockslut, aren’t you?” Derek punctuates the question by slapping the side of your face with his dick, the sound made hollow by your open jaw. “Always so good for me.”

Sucking in a shuddering breath and letting your eyes drift shut again, you nod once. “Yes,” you exhale and turn your head to press your nose into Derek’s shaft.

Derek’s grip softens and he grazes lines into your skin. “Haven’t had you like this in a while,” he says, and then reestablishes the weight of his hand.

He presses the tip of his cock to your lips, which part once more without instruction, and slides into your mouth.

“That’s it,” Derek sighs. He draws out before guiding you down his length again, giving little time to allow his slut to relax. “Take all of it.”

The bit of coarse hair at Derek’s base that pokes out over the hem of his pants tickles your nose and if you hadn’t fallen deeper, you probably would have laughed. But you’re quiet as Derek holds your face flush against his hips that shallowly roll forward, pushing his cock as far into your mouth as his limits will allow.

He sighs again, more labored, and you peel open your eyes to glance up at him.

Derek’s own eyes trail up from where they were watching your mouth to meet his slut’s gaze.

You blink three times, your signal for an okay when he can’t use his hands or words.

Derek inches out, checks his hold on you, and slides back in, gaining speed and ending up choking you as he uses your mouth to get off.

And you take it so well, hollowing your cheeks on the backstroke and swallowing around the head of Derek’s cock when it bumps the back of your throat, even as the rough treatment steals the air from your lungs and builds tears in your eyes.

Sporadically, Derek murmurs a compliment in between the low groans and hushed curses, so proud of his precious advisor, his sweetheart — and every word makes you ache between his legs, makes your hands tighten where they’re clamped around your elbows, makes you skyrocket.

The ringing of Derek’s office phone goes ignored as he focuses on the moist warmth of his slut’s mouth and chasing his end. It’ll get him in trouble one day, maybe, but here in this moment, with your throat working around his dick in that way he likes and the blood in his veins singing, he can’t be bothered with caring.

Derek doesn’t always warn you before he comes, but you know all of the signs. Signs like how he presses his nails into your skin or how his left knee trembles the slightest bit. And when he sucks in his cheeks and hum, Derek comes warm and thick on your tongue.

Some of it leaks when Derek pulls out of your mouth, sliding over your swollen lips, but the older man is quick to catch it on a finger and feed it back to you.

“Tuck me in” Derek demands after you swallow, voice still husky but now light. The corners of his lips rise into a satiated smirk.

Unfolding your arms, you shake the crawling feeling out of them before tucking Derek back into his underwear and adjusting his pants. As he redoes the buttons, Derek rubs all over your neck, upper back, and shoulders. “Was I able to help?”

With a gruff he managed to pull you on his lap, not that you showed any sign of protest. “Not too bad so far. We’ll see how I feel later tonight”

All you do in response is tuck your nose into Derek’s throat and enjoys being held.

“Can’t wait,” you exhales.

Note: thanks for reading. Criticism is completely accepted

[earthstellar]

what are some other nice moments from Rescue bots?

This show is loaded with them!!! :)

Here we go, some nice moments in Rescue Bots!!

I'm going to write this with the assumption that some people reading this may not have ever seen Rescue Bots or might only be somewhat familiar, as I realise the target audience skews much younger than most Transformers media does, so I'm not 100% sure how popular it was outside of that demographic in total.

Off the top of my head:

-There is an in-universe VR game called Element Quest that has a couple really good episodes, the design is cute and there are tons of meme references. Blades, at one point, goes "I used to like video games. Then I took an arrow to the knee." LOL

-I think it's cool how they actually do tie in their continuity with TFP's continuity. For example, "What Rises Above" (RB) canonically comes before "Nemesis Prime" (TFP), and this is directly referenced in the dialogue in TFP when Optimus says that he is late arriving to the base as he was exploring an underground energon deposit-- This is the deposit he explores with the Rescue Bots.

-THERE IS A MUSICAL EPISODE. IT IS EXTREMELY GOOD

-Woodrow Burns, the Chief's brother, is kind of an idiot asshole, although he's not actively malicious. But he is great with the kids and for whatever reason the only thing I can ever remember about this character is when he goes up to Cody after it's been a long time since he saw him last and says "You've grown a whole foot since the last time I saw you-- Now you'll need three socks!" IDK I just think that's a real cute dad joke thing to say to a little kid lol :')

-There is an episode where they explore the local folklore of Griffin Rock, and TL;DR the local lore is that their island is where literal griffins used to nest seasonally. So throughout the episode, there's this kind of vibe of "OK are these electrical magnetic pulses or whatever like a science problem or a magic problem" and it's actually a very cute and fun vibe, especially since Cody is talking about the lore in the first place as part of his work towards a Scouts badge and Blades is very cute in this episode, the bots are all like "okay magic isn't real but uhhh what if magic's real?" for a minute and it's great :')

-Doc Greene/Green creates a ton of fun science devices throughout the show, but the names of some are just so doofy and fun. I love the "Torna-Don't", which is a thing designed to dispel tornados. Of course. lmao

-All the weird small town local events are also very silly and cute, and weirdly realistic for those of us who are familiar with this kind of local event thing, lmao. One of my favourite concepts is one of what seems to be several crawdad-related festivals, in which there is apparently a televised crawdad race. It's a bunch of shrimps put on a tiny racetrack, like Olympic runners. LOL

-At one point, Blurr shows up, and when the Rescue Bots are trying to acclimate him to working with humans, Chase is like "Humans seem to have two genders, which are defined by how many cooties they have." This implies that as far as the Rescue Bots are aware, 1) cooties are real and 2) human gender is defined solely by how many cooties a person has, and not by anything else, thus leaving their understanding of human gender fairly open (and it is also clear they have solely learned about gender from young kids in a small town which is likely why they state there are two genders but then make it clear that gender is a cooties thing and not an inherently physical thing, which makes sense in context and is kind of great because it gives more leeway for gender diversity than I expected) and I love this a lot. What is human gender? Cooties. That's all. So someone with a particularly high number of cooties could be another gender altogether, because why not?

-There is a body swap episode, which treats us to Blades in Dani's body trying on dresses in her room. He picks an orange and white one, which matches his paint job. I also love this a lot.

-Heatwave is gruff as hell especially at the start of the series and constantly starts shit or perpetuates shit with Kade, which is super funny. Just this centuries old Cybertronian fucking with this doofus boy who keeps leaving donuts in his cab. God dammit Kade, lmao.

-There is an episode where Cody is aged up via Science Device, and we get to see an older Cody, who more closely resembles his father than his older brother does. It's cute that he'll look like his dad when he's older. :')

During this episode, he assists in a rescue, and the girl his brother has a crush on tries to hit on him, but he clearly doesn't get what's happening and thinks it's icky because of course he does, he's a kid. I just think this scene is handled well and it's cute that his reaction to being hit on is still "ewww girls" but his brother is still absolutely pissed off about it anyway LMAO like jesus Kade, relax

-Kade's mostly an asshole but he's shown to be a really good rescuer who genuinely cares about people, and he has moments where he really comes through for his family and realises on his own that he should shut up and back down on his bullshit, thus making him a better developed and more realistic asshole brother character than 99% of asshole brother characters in most shows. I think this is pretty solid because it does lead to effective character development here and there, and it makes his positive moments with his family and the bots that much nicer. :)

-Cody is such a good kid. He is often willing to give people or ideas a chance when nobody else will, and even though he's too young to actively participate in most missions, he stays involved by helping at their dispatch centre. He's a smart little dude, who has a lot of heart and a ton of potential. One of the few child characters in anything that I actually like, because I think they write him extremely well: He is young, but he is not stupid. He is not treated like an accessory or like the property of his family, he's his own person with a distinct personality within his family, with a reasonable amount of autonomy. And he's a person who is still learning and has valuable contributions while also needing guidance or support at times. 10/10

-Dani gradually gets better at helping Blades deal with his flight anxiety (and sticks up for him when the others might mock him a little for it), and this is not only inherently very nice and cute, but it also makes a lot of sense as she is a first responder/medic and we see her offer the same reassurances towards the people she helps to rescue.

-The writing for the Burns Family in general is some of the best family group character writing in anything tbh, they handle the family dynamic so well in this show, and it's extra cute as the Rescue Bots all learn a lot from observing how the family takes care of one another and the townspeople they rescue. :')

-Blades has anxiety. I also have anxiety, so I am biased and clearly love this dude, lmao. He's so fucking relatable and even though sometimes the others rip on him, it is clear that they're also very proud of him for trying his best to deal with a situation which for him is particularly difficult (he was forced to take a flight capable alt-mode when this is something he is explicitly not comfortable with) and his team mates do support him, even though Heatwave is a douche sometimes (although it is clear this is usually due to stress or something else and that the actual problem isn't Blades). Over the course of the series, Blades does develop a little more confidence, and it's very cute and nice to see him puffing himself up a little more. :)

-The overall attitudes the bots have towards humans in this show is sweet. It's clear they don't really understand humanity or humans as a whole, but it also doesn't really matter because they are so specifically oriented to their local population on the island and their focus is a relatively small community of humans. They take their duties seriously and will protect this population, even if they don't really understand the people outright. They gradually start to respect the locals (and the Burns Family) more and more as they work with them, and get acclimated to Earth. They love their dumbass weird little humans :')

This leads to a lot of fun shenanigans with the bots not understanding things, or only understanding things as they have been explained by the children, which is hilarious.

-There is an episode where local thieves steal Chase, and inspired by Cody's school drama project, he decides to go undercover after watching a bunch of old detective movies. This includes him narrating things to himself, which he is called on when Dani enters the garage and asks him "Why are the lights off? Are you talking to yourself?" lmao

-Although it isn't explicitly canonical, it's easy to interpret both Chase and Blades as being neurodivergent. Both of them display various behaviours and traits which can potentially be understood in this way, and I'm just glad that there's a show for kids where two of the main characters, who are rescue workers, are shown to be competent and skilled at their jobs and accepted by the community for who they are while also being neurodivergent. <3 It's such a good vibe when the other characters support or defend these two in particular, especially when Chase or Blades might be confused or upset about something. Chief Burns is especially great working with Chase.

-Any episode where Optimus shows up in Rescue Bots usually has some gems of cuteness/silliness. The Elvis line still takes me out, LMAO. "You're bigger than Elvis!" "I have not met this Elvis, and I am unaware of his size." 10/10 writing, I fucking love Rescue Bots

-The bots constantly call out a bunch of details that are entirely appropriate for robots from space to notice and recognise as somewhat weird, whereas a lot of the human characters are so used to 1) being human and 2) living on this incredibly weird little technologically advanced island that nothing really phases them anymore. So we can actually identify more with the bots at time, despite the fact that they are also providing an outsider point of view, which is really clever! :)

-The theme song is a fucking banger. It's so good. I love this song so much. I wish we got a full version of it, but this is the best extended version of it that I've been able to find. Enjoy!!!

-There's a lot of fairly adult stuff in the show, more than I think people realise! The tone can never get too dark outright as it is intended for young kids as the primary demographic, but there's a lot of situations, conversations, etc. that are genuinely engaging and interesting from an adult perspective, which is a large part of what makes it a great watch for all ages.

Some situational examples include scenarios where children are imperilled in natural disasters, accidents, even kidnapping at one point.

Non-kid related situations include risks and threat to civilians from AI development and the dangers that uncontrolled or poorly thought out technology can cause or exacerbate, which is significant in context and also interesting to think about given our current relationship IRL with rapid tech development and concerns around how that technology is being made and applied, either in reality or in theory.

Some dialogue examples include scenes where the bots mention their grief over being unable to save Cybertron, a sense of guilt that they were in stasis for so long even though this was beyond their control, awareness that they may be the last Rescue Bots team in operation on Earth or anywhere else in the universe (a sense of loneliness and a responsibility as the last upholders of their specific creed), struggles with their sense of duty and concerns around their ability to fulfil their expectations for themselves and meet the expectations of others while rising to the demands of their unique situation, and so on.

--

this is already pretty long lmao, there's a ton of stuff I really like about Rescue Bots, but I hope this might encourage others to check out the show if you haven't before, it's well worth a watch! :)

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Mosley Lane: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Summary: This is the last piece of the puzzle. The piece before you can finally be set free from all this pain. You're going to do whatever it takes to help your friend and more importantly, yourself.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man." - Friedrich Nietzsche

"Hey, I came in as soon as I heard," you say and step into the briefing room. "There's an abduction?"

"Yeah. Aimee Lynch, eight years old, was taken an hour ago from a winter festival in Ashburn."

"Any witnesses?"

"Her mom, Barbara, was right next to her when she vanished."

"There must have been hundreds of people there. No one saw anything?"

"We're not completely void of hope. We have a few witnesses who gave descriptions of an older man and woman around Aimee when she disappeared. Here are the drawings from the sketch artist."

JJ puts the sketches on the screen and your heart immediately drops to your stomach. You recognize the people in the sketches.

"No way," you gasp.

"What is it?"

You look at JJ and immediately shut your mouth.

"Excuse me." You get up and leave the room while pulling your phone out and dialing Hotch's cell. "Hotch, listen, I know who the abductors are. When I was in prison, my cellmate told me why she was in there. She worked for this couple as a babysitter and long story short, she went down for the crimes they committed. She knows this couple. I'd like to talk to her."

"Good. Follow the lead."

"Can I take Spencer with me? I have to go back to that prison."

"Yes, that's fine."

You hang up and walk back into the briefing room.

"Alright, Reid, you and I are going to head to the family's house. The two of you," he says to Emily and JJ, "I want you to work with Garcia. We need to look at every local abduction or attempted one in the past year and see if there's any overlap."

"Actually, I need Spencer. I'm following a lead. Something to do with my cellmate in prison. I'll explain later but it relates to this case. I need him with me."

Spencer and Derek look at each other while Emily and JJ stay quiet.

"Okay, yeah. Prentiss, you and I are going to the family's house. JJ, work with Garcia."

"Sure," JJ nods.

"Oh, and the suspect's names are Roger and Anita Roycewood. Just trust me on this one."

Spencer leaves the briefing room with you, waiting for an explanation you're not sure you're going to give. He pulls you into an empty office and blocks your way out of this one.

"Spencer..."

"What is going on? I'm more than happy to go with you, but what is it?"

"My cellmate was arrested for the crimes of the suspects. I know who they are. Anita and Roger Roycewood. She was their babysitter. I have to talk to her which means I have to go back there. I feel like I'm doing better but if I go alone, I'm afraid I'll take ten steps back. You make me feel safe."

Spencer pulls you into a hug and you wrap your arms around his neck. He allows you a few minutes of being in his arms until he pulls away from you.

"You're always safe with me."

He leans down and kisses you, and you welcome the comfort by kissing him back. After allowing yourself to feel content, you and Spencer take one of the FBI standard vehicles up to Goochland where you were imprisoned. The closer you get, the more you can feel the familiar fear creep in. You get through security after showing them your badge and park in the visitor section. You grip the steering wheel but don't move to get out. I can't do this. I can't be here. I shouldn't be here. I should move on and stay as far away from this place as possible. What good is it going to do me to be back here? What if—

"Darling?" Spencer asks when he sees your knuckles are white from how hard you're gripping the wheel. He places his hand on your shoulder and you snap out of your own mind. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay? I could go in there."

"No, I made a promise and I have to do this."

"Okay. Whenever you're ready."

You feel like you're ready in ten minutes, and you slowly climb out of the car. Spencer follows you inside and to the check-in desk.

"Hi, I'm here to visit Ashley... Um, I don't know her last name." You turn to Spencer. "I never asked."

"I need a last name, ma'am," the clerk says.

"Um, I'm sorry," you chuckle nervously. Being back here is making your head swirl. You try to remember what the guards called her since everyone refers to everyone else by their last name. There is a cloud in your brain blocking this information. Spencer rubs your back and the cloud suddenly clears in your head. "Parks. It's Ashley Parks."

"Take these badges and keep them visible at all times. Go through this door and Officer Medley will take you back."

You and Spencer take the visitor badges and clip them to your shirts. You follow Officer Medley to the room where the visitors can speak to inmates through a thick pane of glass and through phones on either side. You and Spencer sit down and look at each other while waiting for Ashley to come out. You're bouncing your leg and Spencer places his hand on your knee to get you to stop.

The door opens and Ashley walks through it with handcuffs on her wrists. You get tears at the sight of her after so long away. The guard removes the cuffs and allows her to walk to the seat right across from you. She smiles when she sees you and picks up the phone.

"It's so good to see you. You look well," she says. Her words bring tears to your eyes. You feel so guilty for leaving her in here. "No, don't do that. If you start crying, I'm going to cry."

"Okay," you sniffle and force the tears away. "Ashley, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Spencer."

"Ah, the man who taught her chess," she grins.

"Yeah," Spencer nods.

"Well, I don't think you're here to just say hi to me. Did something happen?"

"Remember that promise I made to you?"

"If I am found innocent and I don't return, just know I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you out of here."

"Go, you have court," she smiles with tears in her eyes.

"I promise, Ashley. I'll get you out of here."

"You don't have to do anything for me. I made some friends here. There's a group of ladies who are kind of nice."

"Roger and Anita are here. They're in Ashburn."

"What?" she whispers.

"They've kidnapped another child. Her name is Aimee Lynch and she was taken from a festival two hours ago. There are people there who saw Roger and Anita. We have their sketches."

"I can't believe this. How can I help?"

"I have to get in contact with your lawyer and get a retrial for you. We have your file, the fact that you babysat for Roger and Anita, the claims you made, and the 911 call you made for one of the families. My team is going to catch them before they can hurt anyone else. This might be enough to grant you your release."

Ashley has tears in her eyes and she looks between you and Spencer.

"Don't give me hope."

"Ashley, you're going to go home." Ashley puts her head in her hands and cries, allowing herself to feel the hope after so long of not having it. "You're going to see your parents again. I just need one thing."

"Anything," she sniffles and looks at you.

"I need to know everything about Roger and Anita, and the way they kidnapped children."

Ashley tells you what you need to know, and you and Spencer leave the prison. You call her lawyer, Abel Jefferson.

"Hello?"

"Abel Jefferson? My name is Y/N with the FBI at Quantico. Listen, I'd like for you to try and get a retrial for your client, Ashley Parks."

"I can't just demand for a retrial. There are things that need to be done--"

"Like new evidence?"

"What new evidence?"

"Roger and Anita are in Ashburn right now. They've kidnapped another child. My team is already on the case, but I'll get what you need for a retrial."

Abel sighs and doesn't speak for a solid minute.

"Bring me the evidence first, and then we'll talk."

If you're going to get this retrial, you have to know where they're staying. After they parted ways with Ashley, Roger and Anita left the house they had been staying in before. You don't have a clue as to where they are staying now but you have faith your team will figure it out in no time. 

JJ and Penelope work to put everything they know onto the bulletin board. Aimee Lynch was last seen at a winter festival this morning at ten. She is four-foot-eight with blonde hair and green eyes. You're nervous for her since temperatures are dropping with chances of snow. If Roger and Anita have her outside, she'll be dead soon. Reporters have put this AMBER Alert on their news channels, and one woman came in to talk to JJ.

Whoever took Aimee, took her son.

Well, that's what she says every time a child goes missing that's her son's age. Charlie went missing eight years ago, and she comes into the station claiming that her son is alive and he is missing just like all the other kids. She stays in the station for the first twenty-four hours.

She now has eight left.

You pull into the BAU parking lot and stay seated with your hands on the wheel. They're not as white as before but you're still tense.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks.

"I'm out. I'm not going back to that cell. I'm free."

"Yes, you are. You did so well. I'm proud of you."

You look at Spencer with tears in your eyes.

"I want to cry so bad right now. Being back there brought back not only memories but everything that was placed onto my shoulders.

"So do it. Cry."

You do. You crawled over the center console and into Spencer's lap and just cried for ten minutes. He did nothing but hold you, rub your back, and comfort you. God, you're so in love with him. After your moment, you two head back into the BAU and up to JJ and Penelope. You quickly explain to them what is going on so they're aware of what you're doing.

"So, I talked to Ashley's lawyer and he needs evidence before he can get a retrial. Ashley told me how they kidnapped children but maybe their routine changed?"

"What did she say they did?"

"Anita would be around calling for a lost son, distracting the parents of the child they wanted. Roger would swoop in and take the child before the parents ever knew they were gone. When Roger got too old to handle a squirming child, he'd use one of the older kids. Threaten their family or something if they didn't help."

"Sarah said the same thing when Charlie was taken," JJ says to Penelope. "There was a mother looking for her lost son."

"Well, if it's the same people, they've been doing this for close to a decade."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Have You Ever...

Danny gets invited to a hero convention as Danny Phantom, and his booth is next to none other than the legendary Ben 10, one of Danny's own favorite heroes. But when the two start playing a modified version of Never-Have-I-Ever to alleviate their boredom between handshakes with fans, they accidentally expose some things they didn't really mean to.

You can also read it on AO3

Written for X-over Danuary Week 2024, Day 1: Ben 10 | Prison Thanks @crossoverdanuary for running this!

I got a late start because I had DnD today, and I finished this at like 10pm, so I didn't have time to edit. I'm planning on editing it later this week, but until then, sorry for any mistakes. [Edit: it has now been edited]

[Warning for mentions of past traumatic experiences]

It was weird to see such a huge convention center so empty.

Well, it wasn't completely empty, but a few people carrying boxes and setting up displays was a significantly smaller crowd than Danny would normally expect to see in a place like this.

"Ah! Danny Phantom you're here!" A woman with a high ponytail and a convention staff t-shirt walked over to him. "Wow, I'm so excited that you actually came!" 

Her voice was familiar.

"Sally, right?" he guessed. "Sally Braddock?"

"You remembered!" She said brightly.

Sally had been the one who'd convinced Danny to come to this convention. She'd offered him pretty substantial payment, but it was only when she told him he could have three free tickets to the convention as well that Tucker told him he had to agree or they wouldn't be friends anymore. 

So here he was, at San Diego Hero Con, halfway across the country, to sit at a table and sign autographs for a few hours each day, and then do an hour-long panel with a bunch of other teen heroes, and another tomorrow on specifically ghost hunting. (He was still debating whether he should actually show up to that one, or if it would be too dangerous.) The worst part, though, was how early he had to wake up to set up his booth before the event started.

"Here's your presenter badge," Sally said, and handed him a bright yellow name tag clipped to a blue lanyard with the convention's logo on it. "Celebrity meet-and-greets are over there. I'll lead the way. We try not to put them too close to each other or the lines get out of control, but your booth is right next to Ben 10's."

Danny perked up at that. "The alien guy?"

"Yup!"

Oh, man, he hoped he'd get the chance to talk to him. Ben 10 was Danny's favorite superhero. He got to fight real life aliens, sometimes in actual space! And sure, Danny had been to space before that one time Technus had taken over a satellite, but it had still been a ghost fight. It wasn't the same.

"So, this is your table," Sally said, pointing to an empty, white folding table. "Do you have a tablecloth, or banners or headshots or anything?" she asked him with a tight smile.

"Uh.... I don't photograph well," he replied.

Sally sighed. "Well, I can bring over one of the convention tablecloths, but you really should get some kind of poster or cardboard cut-out or something that shows people who they're meeting. And you'll definitely need something to sign. Comic books, or T-shirts. Anything, really. There's a portrait artist in Artists Alley who works pretty fast, her name is Jess. If you get something from her, I can send a gopher to make copies for you to sign." 

"Uh, okay? But, I can just call a friend to bring something."

"Whatever works." With that, Sally left to go organize something else.

Danny called up Sam, who was back at the hotel with Tucker—Tucker would no doubt still be sleeping—and asked her to find a nearby print shop and get a Danny Phantom Banner to hang up and a whole bunch of 8x10 illustrations of him. He let her pick the picture, but asked her to please not pick anything too embarrassing.

Right as he hung up, a pair of people approached the booth next to him carrying plastic tubs. It was none other than Ben 10 himself and a tall, furry, blue alien who was no doubt one of his allies. (That or a cosplayer, but since they were with Ben 10 himself, Danny felt safe in assuming that they really were an alien.) The two of them placed their tubs on the floor and opened them up to start unpacking their display.

"Woah, hi!" Danny said, louder than he meant to.

Ben 10 snapped his head around, muscles tensing. Danny recognized that response all too well, and tried not to let out a sympathetic wince.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he said. "You're Ben 10, right? I know this is cringey to say, but I'm a huge fan."

"Uh, thanks? Just Ben is fine."

"I'm Danny Phantom, but you can just call me Danny."

"I can see that... uh... nice to meet you?" Ben replied. He seemed uncomfortable. Had Danny come on too strong.

"Something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not," Ben said, though it wasn't very convincing.

"I am Rook Blonko," Ben's companion said, offering Danny a handshake which he excitedly accepted. "It is an honor to meet another hero, though I will admit, it was only recently that I came to learn about you." 

"Oh, yeah," Danny let out an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his head. "My scope is a lot more regional and sometimes not very... in this dimension." 

"That would be... the Ghost Zone, right?" Ben said casually. "What's it like? Anything like the Null Void?"

So he was at least somewhat familiar with Danny and his exploits. Danny tried not to let that go to his head, but he couldn't help feeling a little giddy nonetheless. Ben laid down a black tablecloth with his logo on it and spread it across his table. This definitely wasn't his first rodeo.

"I don't know about the Null Void," Danny said. "It's like the bottom side of this dimension. It's where ghosts live... or... not live. Reside. Almost everything is green because of all the ectoplasm there, and when humans go there, they can pass right through walls and objects just like ghosts can in this dimension."

"That does not sound like the Null Void at all," Rook observed, pulling rods and boards out of one of the boxes and assembling them into a small standing shelf.

"What's the Null Void like?" Danny asked.

"Mostly red," Ben said with a shrug. "Full of floating islands and enormous aliens. Used as a penal colony for this dimension's worst criminals."

"Oh... yeah, no. Aside from the floating islands, that doesn't sound anything like the Ghost Zone," Danny agreed. "Although it's kind of a cool coincidence that we both have experience with alternate dimensions."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ben looked over at Danny and his sad excuse for a booth—really looking for the first time. "First time at one of these things?"

"Oh yeah," Danny confirmed. "My friend is bailing me out at a print shop right now, but I was so unprepared."

Ben snorted. "Here," he said, digging through one of his boxes and pulling out a bright green swath of fabric. "You can use one of my tablecloths. I brought an extra, just in case. It has my logo on one side, but if you turn it around so the logo faces you no one will be the wiser. We have basically the same color scheme, so it works out."

"Thanks," Danny accepted the tablecloth, slightly surprised, and spread it out over his table. It was almost exactly ectoplasm green, just a shade or two darker. "Have you been to a lot of conventions?"

"A few," Ben said.

"This is your fourth," Rook said.

"That sounds right. If it hadn't been for Rook, I probably would've been just as lost as you at my first one. He's all about preparing in advance. But yeah, I've been a public hero for over a year now, and since my identity isn't a secret anymore, it's easier for the people who run these things to get a hold of me."

"About that... why don't you have a secret identity?"

"It wasn't exactly my choice," Ben replied. "Some kid found it out and exposed me on the internet. It turned out surprisingly well, though, for the most part. Must be nice for you though, not having an alternate identity—not that being dead is nice or anything like that—I mean, it's not a bad thing—or it is a bad thing? I uh... yeah, I don't know what I'm saying."

After taking a moment to parse that rambling sentence, Danny burst out laughing. 

"Hahaha! Is that why you're acting so uncomfortable around me? Because I'm dead? Ha! You don't have to worry about that. You're fine."

"Serious?"

"Dead serious," Danny replied with a smirk.

Ben shook his head with a soft laugh. "Alright, fine.... Actually, that's not the only reason. Back when I was ten and just starting out I had... a bad experience with a ghost-like alien of mine. Ever since, ghost stuff just puts me a little on edge."

"Oh... I see. Well, don't worry, I won't take it personally," Danny said. "Did you really start doing this when you were ten?"

"Yeah. Although I kinda retired for a few years when I was eleven, and started up again when I was fifteen."

Danny did some quick math in his head. "Oh, so altogether, you and me have been in this for about the same amount of time. 'Cause I got started a little over two years ago."

"Yeah?" Ben was silent for a few moments. He pulled out boxed figurines of his alien forms and lined them up on the shelf Rook had assembled. "So... when did you...."

"Die?" Danny finished for him. "I was fourteen. I'm almost seventeen now. In about three months, I mean."

"Do you still age?"

"Sort of?" Danny shrugged.

He and Jazz had come up with an answer to this question a little while ago, when people noticed that Danny Phantom was starting to look older, even though ghosts supposedly didn't age.

"A ghost's body is a reflection of their mental image of themself. In the Zone, ghosts don't really age or change unless something specific happens that makes them feel older or different. Because I spend so much time in the human world still, because I learn and grow with each fight, I still feel like I'm growing up, so I look like I'm growing up, too."

"That is fascinating," Rook said. "I would love to learn more about ghostly biology."

"I would love to tell you about it. Problem is, I really don't know that much," Danny told him apologetically. He shrugged. "Sorry. I'm a superhero, not a scientist."

"I'm here!" Sam called, her heavy combat boots tromping into the room. She was carrying a large cardboard box. "I would have been here sooner, but I had to put together a design for the banner. Luckily I found a printer that could make one for you on short notice like this, or you'd be screwed."

"You're a life saver!"

"You wish," she scoffed. "I got you a banner and three hundred head shots."

"That's not gonna be enough," Ben said immediately.

"Ya think?" Sam asked.

"Trust me."

She sighed heavily in annoyance. "Okay, I can go back and get some more, but you so owe me, Danny."

"Yeah, I know," Danny said, taking the box from Sam. "You're the best!"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, taking one of the head shots off the top of the stack and leaving again.

"Is that your friend?" Ben asked.

"One of them," Danny confirmed, setting the box down on the table. "That's Sam. She and Tucker have been with me since the beginning. He's probably still asleep at the hotel."

He pulled out a stack of head shots for the table and slid the box with the rest underneath. She'd picked a good picture. It was a poster illustration for a local ghost awareness presentation he'd done a while back, and he nearly sighed with relief when he saw it. He'd been half afraid she'd pick one of the grainy newspaper photos of him in his underwear.

"That's cool," Ben said. "Yeah, I don't think anyone could do this job without allies. When I first started, I had my Grandpa and my cousin, then my cousin and my best friend, and now I have Rook as my partner."

"We have been together for a year," Rook added.

"Like... together together or...?"

"Working partners," Ben clarified insistently. "It's not like that."

"Oh, okay, my bad."

Hoping to alleviate his embarrassment, Danny unfurled his new banner and flew up to hang it on the wall behind his booth. It looked cool, but not too complicated. Just his name and logo and a little bit of ghost designs around the edges. Sam had done a good job with it.

"You are not the first to think that," Rook consoled. "It is a more common assumption than one might think."

They continued chatting idly while they set up their booths. Danny got to ask Rook what kind of alien he was, and what his home planet was like. Sam showed up with a whole bunch more photos and then immediately abandoned them to get a sneak preview of artist alley before she came back as an attendee.

Just before the convention center officially opened, Danny worked up the courage to ask Ben for an autograph, and Ben obliged him with a smile, offering an exchange, rather than asking for payment. Danny eagerly accepted, signing one of his own pictures and trading it for Ben's. Ben's looked far more professional than his own. He hoped people wouldn't be disappointed.

As people started trickling in past the security checkpoint up front, both heroes only got a few people in the beginning. After only about twenty minutes of boredom, Ben suggested they play a game.

"Sure," Danny agreed. "What game?"

"My buddy Kevin calls it Reverse-Never-Have-I-Ever, and my cousin calls it Have-You-Ever." Ben said. "See, we could never play regular Never-Have-I-Ever, because we all knew all the weird stuff we'd done and we'd target each other mercilessly. With this version, You say something you have done, and anyone who hasn't done it loses a point. If everyone's done it, no one loses a point."

"Okay... I think I get the idea, but why don't you start? Five fingers or ten?"

"Let's start with five," Ben said. "Rook, you playing?"

"I will pass," Rook said. "I always lose this game."

"Alright, if that's what you want." Ben shrugged. "Alright, Danny, have you ever... transformed into a different species?"

"Yes."

"You have?!"

"Uh, yeah. I went from human to ghost. Duh."

"Oh... right, duh," Ben agreed, shaking his head at how foolish he'd been to blow his first question like that. "Wow, I can't believe I didn't even think about that...."

"My turn, right?" Danny said. "Have you ever fought an evil alternate version of yourself?"

"Yeah, like six of 'em."

"Okay, well, now you're just showing off."

Ben smirked. "Oh, I never get to use this one on my friends. Have you ever been to space?"

Danny smirked right back. "One of my rogues possessed an orbital satellite."

"Damn it!" 

Someone walked over to Danny's table and he smiled at her, pointedly ignored the way she shivered when he shook her hand, and signed a photo for her.

"Okay," he said, shifting his attention back to the game, "have you ever... been cut in two."

"I regenerated, but yeah."

"How?" Danny demanded.

"Plant alien."

"I should've guessed. Stupid plant creatures with their stupid regenerative powers. Undergrowth-ass alien. Lame." 

Ben laughed at him while he signed a figurine for a fan who came to his table. "How about this. Have you ever fought a medieval-style knight?"

"A knight? Hold on." Danny considered that for a moment. Had he? He'd rescued Sam from Dora's realm that one time, and yeah, he'd definitely had to fight the ghosts of knights then. Oh! Also Fright Knight. How could he forget about him. "Yes, I have definitely fought knights on several occasions. Ghost knights, obviously."

"Ugh! I really thought I had you with that one. Why do ghosts who died a thousand years ago have to stick around for so long?"

"Nope!" Danny teased. "Okay, how about this one. Have you ever fought a ghost?"

"Define ghost?" Ben asked.

"The law defines a ghost as any creature which produces ectoplasm, is composed of ectoplasm, or requires ectoplasm to survive," Danny recited. 

There was no need to say which law—that would be the anti-ecto acts. It was stupid that those stupid acts were still even law when public support of ghosts had never been higher. Although, they hadn't been as heavily enforced the last year or so, since the G.I.W. lost a lot of funding after repeatedly failing to catch their most wanted, Danny.

"Then yes, I have," Ben said. "Have you ever fought an alien?"

"Define alien."

"A creature originating from a planet or plane other than Earth."

"Then yes, ghosts."

"Ah ah ah!" Ben argued. "Ghosts are the spirits of dead humans, which means they originate on Earth."

"Except that not all ghosts are the spirits of dead humans," Danny countered right back. "Many ghosts originally formed inside the Ghost Zone, which makes them, by your definition, aliens, and I have fought them, too. Also I fought off some Incurseans back when they invaded the Earth a little while back. It was awesome." 

Ben groaned.

"Haha! Gotcha!"

"Just go already."

"Have you ever died?"

"Ha! Yes, I have," Ben said, as if dying was some huge victory. "You probably thought you had me, but you were wrong. I may have been brought back through alien magic and/or time travel, but yes, I have died. Speaking of which, have you ever time-traveled."

"Psh, have I time traveled?" Danny scoffed. "I have literally met the Ancient, omniscient Master of Time. He's a huge pain in the neck."

It was at this point that more people started accumulating at the two heroes' tables. Some got in line for autographs, though both Ben and Danny were too engrossed in their game at this point to give their full attention. Others just stood, watching, and listening to the two of them. A few even started filming their little game.

"Alright, my turn," Danny said. "Have you ever... oh, I have a good one! Have you ever had to fight your best friend after he copied your powers which then caused him to lose his mind and become evil?"

"Literally how?!" Ben shouted.

"Is that a no?"

"No, I meant 'literally how' as in how has something that specific happened to both of us?"

"No way!"

"Yes way! That's happened to Kevin more than once."

"What?!"

"I know, right?"

"It is also strange for this game to go so long without any of the participants losing a point," Rook said. "I believe it is at this point that I would have lost, had I been participating."

"You put up a good fight, Rook," Ben joked.

"But... I was not playing?"

"I was teasing, Rook."

"Ah, yes."

"Whose turn is it now?" Ben asked. "Mine, right?"

"Yeah," Danny confirmed.

"Have you ever had a limb severed?"

"Yes, but I'm a ghost, so I reattached it pretty easily. Have you ever altered the fabric of reality?"

"I once had to recreate the entire universe after it got destroyed, and then went on intergalactic trial for doing it. And the worst part is, ever since then, grape smoothies just don't taste the same. It's so frustrating. I did get this super comfortable hoodie out of it, though." 

"Ew, smoothies?" Danny grimaced. "What are you a yoga mom?"

Ben stood up, slamming a hand on his table and with the other, he pointed accusingly at Danny. "Smoothies are delicious, screw you!"

"You're just frustrated because I'm winning."

"You're not winning, neither of us have lost a single point! But you will!" Ben declared. "Have you ever saved the whole entire universe."

"Yes."

"What?" Ben fell back into his chair, deflated.

"A while back, this one group, the G.I.W. tried to destroy the Ghost Zone with a special anti-ghost nuke, and I stopped them. The Ghost Zone is the flip side of our dimension, so if it had been destroyed, it would have taken our universe along with it. Hence, I saved the universe. I just didn't let it get all over international news first."

"Boo!"

"Isn't that my line?" Danny said. 

Ben threw a sharpie at him and he turned intangible and let it pass right through him while he laughed at his own joke.

"Anyway, have you ever visited an alternate timeline where the entire earth is barren and desolate and the alternate version of you rules supreme?"

"Yes, I call it the Mad Universe, because it looked like Mad Max, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I can see it. But really? You have?"

"Yup. The alternate version of Rook was a jerk." 

Rook frowned but didn't have the chance to say anything before Ben kept talking.

"Have you ever... I don't know... every time I go weirder, you just match me. Have you ever had a family member be friends with one of you enemies?"

"Yeah, my dad considers my archenemy his best friend in the world," Danny said. "The feeling is not mutual, though. Have you ever been imprisoned by one of your enemies?"

"More times than I can count. Have you ever asexually reproduced?"

"Do clones count?"

"No!" Ben refused.

"Yes," Rook argued, possibly still upset about Ben's jerk comment. "Technically, cloning is a form of asexual reproduction."

"But could they fly?"

"I don't see how that's relevant to asexual reproduction, but yes," Danny said. "They were ghosts. They could fly. Most of them were too unstable to survive though. There's only one left." He frowned.

"Oh... sorry."

"It's... fine." It wasn't fine. He still found himself lying awake at night thinking about them sometimes. Danny shook his head and plastered on a determined grin. "I really think I've got you this time, though."

"Do you?" Ben did not sound convinced.

"Have you ever had to fight sentient food that was not still alive?"

"Y—wait...." Ben frowned as he thought about it for a long moment. "No... I haven't."

"Yes!" Danny cheered and Ben buried his head in his hands, humiliated. "This puts me in the lead."

"Not for long," Ben said. "Have you ever eaten food from another planet?"

"Wha—noooo...." 

"Ha!"

"We're dead even again." 

Their game continued.

"Have you ever fought a cult's subject of worship?"

"Have you ever had a Christmas-themed battle?"

"Have you ever fought on the same side as one of your enemies?"

"Have you ever been called upon to end a war?"

"Have you ever unexpectedly developed a new power that caused you trouble?"

"Have you ever used your powers to get out of other responsibilities?"

"Have you ever had to skip out on something you were really looking forward to and save the day?"

"Have you ever been blamed for property damage your enemies caused just because you happened to be there at the time?"

"Have you ever been mind controlled?"

"Have you ever fought an evil circus?"

The game kept going on and on, while they absently shook hands and signed autographs, with neither of them giving up another point. Until Sally showed up to tell them it was time to go to the teen hero panel they were on. 

It was only then that they looked up and saw all the cameras that had been recording their game. How long had they been recording? How much had they gotten?

"Uh... right," Ben said. "Sorry everyone. You can come back for autographs after the panel. And Danny, I think we're gonna have to call it a draw."

"We'll have to have a rematch some other time," Danny said, trying to keep his tone light, despite his sudden anxiety. 

Sally led the two of them to a large room with rows upon rows of empty seats, right down the aisle to the stage up front where a man in his thirties was already standing, and a masked teenage girl with glowing pink hair and eyes was sitting behind the table.

"Hello, I'm John and I'll be moderating this panel," the man introduced. "This is Lucky Girl, another teen hero we invited. Lucky Girl, this is Ben 10 and Danny Phantom."

"Nice to meet you," Danny said.

"I can't believe they roped you into this," Ben said, smiling at the girl like he knew her.

"Shut up," the girl barked back. "We can't all gain international fame overnight, and I have to pay for student housing."

"You two already know each other?" John asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah, we've known each other for a long time," Ben said. "All our lives, in fact."

"Ben, I swear if you give me away I will hex you so bad your children's children's children will travel for miles just to spit on your grave."

Ben put up his hands in surrender, and took his seat without another word. Danny followed his lead. This Lucky Girl didn't seem like the kind of person he wanted to mess with.

Once they were all in their seats, John gave them a quick run down of how the panel would go. He would ask a few questions. They would answer. He would open it up to questions from the audience, and they would answer those too. After an hour, the panel would be over, and they would return to their booths, or in Lucky Girl's case, simply leave, as she apparently didn't have a booth.

"She uses her powers to disguise herself, but she can't keep that up for more than an hour and a half," Ben whispered to Danny, clearly sensing his confusion. "She'll probably hang around for a little while after to greet fans, but she'll have to leave when her mana's drained."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense," Danny whispered back, nodding. "I was worried it might be like a sexism thing."

"As if she'd stand for something like that," Ben scoffed.

Soon enough, the doors opened, and people started trickling in. The seats filled up with mostly teens and young adults, with a few parents and older adults sprinkled in. Danny noticed Sam and Tucker come in and sit in the back row and waved at them. Rook was also sitting in the back row, trying not to draw attention to himself. Although, it seemed like most people thought he was a cosplayer, so he didn't really have to bother hiding.

When the doors closed, John started the panel.

The first part was easy. 

John asked questions like: "How do you balance being a hero with the other responsibilities you have as an adolescent?"

"Honestly, not well. You know how people say 'you can sleep when you're dead'? Yeah, that's a lie." 

"I'm lucky enough to have a good memory so I don't have to study much, otherwise my grades in school would tank. For me, the real struggle is finding time to do chores." 

"I prioritize my other responsibilities. I don't usually face world-ending, city-destroying threats like these two, which allows me the luxury of saving hero work for after my homework is finished."

And: "Where do you go when you want to de-stress after saving the day?"

"I usually go over to my friends' and play video games. I feel safe around them."

"If the sun's still up, Mr. Smoothie. But if it's late, I like to go out for chili fries."

"The library. I know it makes me sound like a nerd, but whatever. I am a nerd. Who cares."

And: "How do your parents figure in to you heroic activities?"

"They... don't know. They don't exactly have a great opinion of ghosts, and they don't recognize me when... I mean, they don't recognize me anymore. So I guess they don't figure in." That wasn't entirely true, but Danny wasn't about to say they shot at him in front of a crowd of hundreds of people.

"My parents are actually very supportive. At first, they wanted me to quit, because they were worried about my safety, but I changed their minds. They raised me to know right from wrong, and to help others whenever I can, and they're proud of me."

"My parents don't know either, and I don't live with them right now because I live on my school campus, so I guess, like Phantom, my parents don't really figure in either."

They were easy questions to answer, even if Danny didn't always tell the whole truth. John kept things light, focusing mostly on them being teenagers, and how being a hero affected that aspect of their life, rather than the other way around. There were a couple questions about battles and enemies, but for the most part, they avoided the heavy stuff.

Then, about halfway into the panel, John opened it up to the audience to ask questions.

They didn't shy away from the heavy stuff.

"Hi, I'm Mandy, big fan," said a girl with curly brown hair. "I have two questions for Ben, first is, are you dating anyone?"

Ben chuckled, trying to sound amused, even though, up close, Danny could tell the question made him uncomfortable.

"No, I'm not dating right now."

The girl giggled for a moment before asking her next question. "My next question is: when you're fighting an alien invasion basically by yourself, do you ever feel afraid?"

Ben didn't answer right away. He took a breath, and nodded.

"Yes," he said. "I know I'm strong, and there's a lot that I can do and have done, but when I'm outnumbered a thousand to one, yeah, I'm a little afraid."

"Not that you were ever actually by yourself," Lucky Girl pointed out.

"Heh," Ben rubbed his neck awkwardly. "That's true. Even if there weren't many, I've always had people in my corner."

The next person who stepped up was a guy in a Danny Phantom T-shirt which read 'it's not gay if he's dead.'

Danny immediately groaned and Ben grinned hugely. "Before you ask your question, I have a question for you. Where did you get that shirt?"

"I got it at a souvenir shop when I went to Amity Park, but I think you can buy them online, too," they guy said.

"I'm getting one."

Danny groaned even more insistently.

"My question is for Phantom. If you hadn't died, do you think you still would have become a hero, and protected your home from ghosts?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Danny admitted. "Amity Park does have other ghost hunters, the Fentons and Red Huntress, for example. If I hadn't d... if I didn't have my powers, I wouldn't really have the ability to protect anybody. I'd probably leave it to the ghost hunters who were better equipped."

"And for Lucky Girl, are you single?"

"Ha ha no," she said flatly. "I have a boyfriend."

"Figures."

Next up was a girl in some pretty fantastic Lucky Girl cosplay. Her wig even lit up. Although she looked like she was quite a bit taller than the real thing.

"Lucky Girl, do your periods ever interfere with fighting crime?"

"Uh... that's a bit personal," Lucky Girl said instantly, as if the answer was instinctive. 

But when she saw the way the girl reacted like she'd been slapped, hunching in on herself with shame, Lucky Girl bit her lip and answered anyway. 

"Actually... the life of a superhero is really stressful. The kind of stress that has... biological effects. When I first started fighting crime as, like, a regular thing, I didn't have a period for months. When I finally did again it was... you know what, I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, it was really bad. Like, my doctor prescribed me pills to stop me from menstruating bad. So... I guess the answer to your question is 'not anymore' and also sorry for the TMI." She finished with a short grimace.

"Thank you for answering," the girl said before going to sit back down.

Ben covered his mic and turned to her. "How come I never knew about that?"

"Are you kidding?" Lucky Girl muttered back. "Like I'm gonna discuss my cycle with a fifteen-year-old boy."

Ben didn't even attempt to argue with that.

As... much as those questions were, it was the next one that really stopped everything in its tracks.

"Hi, I'm Michael. I don't know if you know about this video that's going around. It was only posted, like, less than an hour ago, but it's really blown up in fan circles already," the young man said. "The video shows Phantom and Ben 10... I guess playing a game or something? Where you guys are asking each other if you'd done certain things and basically comparing experiences with each other? Do you know it?"

Ben and Danny shot each other anxious looks.

"Uh... I haven't seen it, but I think we know what you're talking about," Ben answered cautiously. "Is that your question?"

"No, my question is... well, in the video you guys are talking about alternate timelines, and fighting evil versions of yourselves, and getting mind-controlled, and changing reality. I guess my question is. Did all that stuff really happen to you guys?"

Neither Ben nor Danny wanted to answer. They didn't look at each other, or the crowd. They deeply regretted playing a game that revealed such personal secrets in a public space.

Finally, Ben cleared his throat. "Yes, all that happened." Danny nodded his own confirmation. "The life we lead is a dangerous one, and it demands sacrifices, and it takes a lot from you, and it puts you in a lot of strange situations that few others can understand. It's... not for everyone."

The next fan stepped up to the mic. "Follow up questions. First, how are you guys like... functional? Because I mean, if I'd gone through the kind of stuff you were talking about in that video, I think I'd have a mental breakdown. Second, why would you put yourselves through all that?"

"Well, first off, bold of you to assume I've never had a mental breakdown," Danny said. "And secondly, if we don't do it, who will?" he asked. "We're not just random ordinary high schoolers who up and decided to subject ourselves to unspeakable trauma just for the fun of it. 

"We do this because we have the power to do things others can't, to fight enemies other people can't fight. We do this because if we don't... if we don't, people die. Or worse. People experience the kind of things we do trying to protect them. So I guess the answer to both of your questions is, what other choice do we have?"

"Yeah, exactly what Danny said," Ben agreed. "I tried to give up my powers, and my responsibilities once, and people got hurt because of it. My grandpa.... Because I wanted to live a normal life, to take it easy, there was no one else to protect them. It is every individual's responsibility to do what they can to help others. It just so happens that we can do more than most, and that comes with drawbacks. 

"Lucky Girl, care to weigh in? You weren't in the video, but I know you've had your share of superhero related trauma."

"I think you guys pretty much covered it," she replied. "I don't think I've been through quite as much as you two, but I definitely know about the sacrifices we make for this life. I also know that it's worth it to know that the people and places you love are safe and protected because of you."

The boy's both nodded in agreement.

The questions didn't really lighten up after that. "What's the worst experience you've ever had as a hero?" "Have you ever failed to protect someone?" "We heard Ben 10 say so already, but have you ever wanted to quit, or wished you never had powers in the first place?"

After a point, John noticed how uncomfortable they were getting and had to step in and ask that the next few questions not be so dark.

A younger girl, maybe even a middle schooler, hand mercy on them at last, and asked, "What was the funniest thing that ever happened to you while you were saving the day?" and from there the questions finally eased up.

It felt like it had been far longer than an hour when the session ended, and they left the stage and returned to their booths to sign autographs and shake hands and listen to dozens of people gushing, "I'm you're biggest fan!"

They didn't pick up their game again, even when things got slow. Evidently they'd learned their lesson. And they kept learning it as more and more of the people who came to visit them asked about that video. Each time Danny had to smile and laugh it off, the regret deepened. 

It had been a while since he felt like such a complete idiot. Since he'd done something so thoughtless. He'd gotten a lot better at keeping secrets over the years, but he'd just been so excited to talk with someone he had so much in common with—and yeah, he'd probably gotten a little too competitive also. He should have known better.

"So uh... I was at your panel earlier," said a girl who placed a science magazine on the table for him to sign. The cover touted an article about 10 Things You Didn't Know About Ghosts (they have their own culture!). Danny remembered doing that interview.

"That's nice, thanks for coming," Danny said, his smile tensing. "Do you want me to sign the cover, or the page with the article."

"The cover please," the girl said. "For Marnie. And um... I was too nervous to stand up and ask before, but... I was really curious."

"Oh?" Danny asked, keeping his eyes on his hand as he signed the cover 'To Marnie, stay spooky'.

"Why would you make it a game?" she asked. "Wouldn't it be better to try to forget all those things?"

"Easier said than done," Danny said. "Things like that stay with you. Turning them into a joke or a game takes the power away from those bad memories. When you're laughing at your fears, what can they do to you? That's the way I see it. Ben might have another reason, and technically, it was his game. He came up with it."

"So... what you're saying is, laughter is the best medicine?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Danny agreed. He slid the magazine back to her. "Thanks for coming by."

Finally, Danny's shift was over, and Ben's ended at the same time. Just in time, too, because Danny was just about out of photos. He'd have to get more for tomorrow. He signed his last picture with a sigh of relief, thankful that the convention staff had come by to cut off the line when it was about time for him to be finished.

"You finished too, Danny?" Ben asked.

"Yup."

"You wanna go get lunch with us? Wait... do ghosts eat?"

"We do, but I was gonna meet up with my friends for lunch today, and then explore the convention a little." Danny said. "Are you gonna be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm here for the whole con," Ben said. "Here, let me give you my number. We should keep in touch."

"Totally!" Danny agreed. "It'll be nice to have an actual superhero friend. I love Sam and Tucker, but there are some things...."

"Yeah, I get what you mean."

After swapping numbers the two of them headed off to their separate engagements. Danny transformed and got to experience what else Hero Con had to offer without getting swarmed by fans like he saw happening to Ben that afternoon.

They met up again the next day. Chatted at their booths, had lunch together, checked out the fan artists, just hung out for a while. This time around, Danny didn't have his human form to protect him from the crowds. 

That video of their game haunted them both for the rest of the convention. People kept bringing it up until it became almost more annoying than mortifying. 

When Hero Con finally ended, they both breathed sighs of relief. The convention was over, but Ben and Danny kept in touch. They never did have that rematch though. In fact, they were both pretty much done with 'Have-You-Ever'.

[ghost-proofbaby]

Can I request Back to December with Eddie?! and if you could make it kind of angsty 🫣🥹

back to december (eddie's version)

warnings: angsty. very, very angsty. hurt/no comfort.

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: fuck it we ball. i have nothing to say about this one. if it's trash, that's between me and god.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie. 

Maybe it was due to his upbringing, maybe he was another victim of circumstance, but love and him had always had a complicated relationship. It had left him scorned usually, a long line of failed situationships that trail behind him like ghosts of his pasts. Times he let bury themselves, relationships he’d get involved in knowing he’d never achieve the kind of love he’d seen in books and movies. Other people would talk about their small town romances, and he would only think of all the one night stands he’d subjected himself in which tore off a piece of himself every time he’d depart. He was the type of person to be used, to be drained of what fun the other participant could suck him dry of and then discarded for the next one. He wasn’t relationship material – he wasn’t love material.

Until you. And how unexpected you had been. 

You, who was suddenly sitting in front of him in a coffee shop, hunched over your laptop and no doubt working on finishing up classwork for that degree you’d always talked about getting with him. You, who had been the exact opposite of someone Eddie would have ever anticipated falling for. You, who had never looked at him as something to use and to discard, but to have and to hold. You, the one (and possibly only) exception to everything he thought he knew. 

You’re just as stunning as you had been on late summer afternoons in the passenger seat of his van. Same messy hair, same glowing eyes, same jestering lilt to your lips that seemed ever present even in the most serious of situations. Even with brows furrowed and new stress lines in your forehead, a slight pucker of your lips at whatever was on the screen in front of you and accentuated eyebags that hadn’t been there in your past life but now exist in the here and now, most likely a symptom of the long hours you’d always been willing to put in for the things you wanted – you still took his breath away, even now. 

The first time you’d ever spoken to Eddie, he had considered it a cruel joke. You were beautiful, someone who entered the room and everyone just knew you were the smartest person there. Teachers loved you, others at the very least tolerated you if not admired you. It prodded at every insecurity he’d already harbored. All his fears of not being good enough, of being judged for his repeating years, of forever being doomed to be worn as a mark of shame rather than a badge of pride had been put in front of him with a pretty bow on top. You were something to show off. You were something good. But those wide eyes that had slowly pulled him in, had broken down all his defenses. He’d never stood a chance.

“Eddie?” 

It’s not your voice, but that of the barista sitting down his order on the pickup counter. But his name still tears you from your concentration, and when you pale at the sight of him, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he had been staring. 

They have to call out his name a second time before he moves to grab the coffee, turning his back on you just as he had all those ages ago. His fight or flight kicks in; he doesn’t know whether it would be better to leave it as it is and hurry out of this coffeeshop with his tail between his legs, or if for once in his life, it was worth leaning into the discomfort. Instead of running from that crackling in his chest and all the hurt flooding him the same as that final time he’d seen you, maybe he should take a deep breath and dive right in. 

Would you even recognize him as he recognized you? Would your soul see his as if for the first time all over again, and sadly smile with a whisper of, oh. There you are, again?

Or would you pretend to be strangers again? Would you pretend like all the history had faded to smoke and he was just some guy you’d bumped into at a cafe? Would you give him the honor of wiping his slate clean and just starting over, as if he’d never hurt you? 

He had been an idiot when it came to you. A loser who had been handed a gift on a silver platter, and instead of cherishing it until the end of time, he’d ruined it. Ruined you. 

The decision is made long before his palm wraps around the overly warm cup, and his feet carry him to your table before doubt would wrap its chords around his throat.

His chest flutters just like it had in the autumn when he’d first realized that how he felt for you was different. As the leaves of Hawkins had changed color, so had his feelings, turning their own brilliant and vibrant shades between him draping his leather jacket across your shoulders and the gentle kisses you’d wake him with before the sun even rose. Quiet and private moments between just the two of you that Hawkins had never bore witness to. Hazy afternoons spent under the guise of tutoring him in subjects like math and science bled into dinner dates at Benny’s, sharing milkshakes and him teaching you how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

He had loved you. He still loves you. And he’d been a fool, because it had never occurred to him that during those Autumnal months, more than just the leaves or just him had been falling. 

Even the warmth of all your love that he had been blind to wasn’t enough to stave off the chill that had crept in by that December. Winter was cruel. You’d both learned that the hard way. One bad argument, one stormy night, and it had all fallen apart. He’d lost you — he’d lost that ray of sunshine in his life, the one thing that should have kept him warm through icey December nights. All over something that had started off over a disagreement of future plans and unraveled into an argument over differences.

His voice cracks as he stands before you, eyes wide as he says, “Hey.”

When you look back up at him this way, it’s hard to believe that he never saw it. That love, swirling with endless depth. That quiet but firm matter of fact that you loved him, and a piece of you if not all of you always would, even after he’d shattered your heart on the ground carelessly. 

“Hi,” your voice is meek. Even after nearly a year, all it took was him being here, and you felt the person you’d worked so hard to build from scratch fall right apart, exposing all your old wounds and still-sensitive nerves. Before Eddie, you’d always seemed so sure of yourself.

He should walk away. He should leave you be. He should just live with what he’d done, the damage he’d inflicted, and let you continue to heal.

He can’t. “Is this seat taken?” 

You hesitate as you stare at the chair that his hand lands on the back of, and he doesn’t blame you. He isn’t sure he’d let him take that seat either. 

“No,” you answer honestly, clearly against your better judgment, “It’s… open.” 

There were a million other seats he could have taken. A plethora of empty tables he could have chosen over your currently occupied one. Hell, he could have even just walked out of there and let your soul rest. But for the life of him, he couldn’t. Because you’re here, and you’re only staring at him rather than cursing him with every foul name under the sun like he deserves, and all of the rotten parts inside of him are clawing out for your kindness. Like a child desperate for comfort, like a wounded animal taking shelter. 

He takes that seat wordlessly, and watches you slowly shift your laptop out from in between you two. 

You clear your throat first, offering that first olive branch, “How’ve you been?” 

He almost wants to wave your question off. He’s been giving a rare opportunity and almost can’t stomach the thought of wasting it on small talk.

“Good,” he forces the answer out, “We, uh- we got picked up as openers for a tour this summer.” 

We as in the band. The thing he’d put above you. He just might regret that decision for the rest of his days.

You’d had a college plan. He’d had a drop out plan. But you had still tried to fight tooth and nail for him; you'd given up a fraction of your reputation for him, a side effect of being associated with the freak, and you hadn’t even blinked an eye. It had been the bare minimum, at least in your eyes, but to him it had been a sign that he was nothing but poison for you. It went further than just the fact that you had your shit together and he didn’t. Once the first weak spot had his attention, all the fragile delicacies that your relationship hung on by did. He stopped ‘studying’ with you at Benny’s, choosing Hellfire Club over you. He always forgot to congratulate you on your accomplishments, whereas you never missed a beat in recognizing his. It was always him taking, taking, taking. He had watched you give, endlessly, over and over, and convinced himself that one day, he’d bleed you dry. He convinced yourself it was better to break your heart than to drain you for all that you were worth. He’d never considered your perspective of it all.

“That’s amazing,” you should be scathing, hurt and angry to have to hear about how the very thing he’d broken your heart over was working out for him. But you aren’t, and you both know you never could be; you were happy for him and still cheering him on, even after all the damage done between you two, “What’s the band you’re opening for?”

Stiff, cool small talk continues. Talk of this band that had so graciously taken Corroded Coffin under their wing. Discussions of the weather. Comments on the college you’d been accepted into, and confirmation you had been working on class work when he’d found you. You had a full ride. He tries to remember all the times you’d discussed your specific accomplishments that would award that, if you’d ever bragged about your GPA to him or any of the extracurricular activities you’d taken part in for a shiny bit on your applications. But he can’t recall them; maybe he had just gotten too jealous at the time, or maybe you’d been aware of the hurt it would have caused him and avoided the bragging rights. (It was the latter. God, he knows it’s the latter, but it hurts to admit it). 

It’s painful. So, so utterly and terribly uncomfortable. He once knew everything about you. The mundane things like your favorite song to belt out with the windows down, and the remarkable things like how it felt to feel your heartbeat pressed to his while his bedroom window was open on frigid November nights. He’ll never know that feeling again. He’ll never feel your breath sync with his, and he’ll never get the chance to not take for granted that serenity you’d always offered with open palms in his direction.

When the conversation dwindles and the coffee goes lukewarm, he knows it has to end. He’d replayed this scenario a million times — rehearsed his apologies and tormented himself with endings where you took him back. You’d forget the past and drop your guard as you welcomed him back into your arms. The night he should have vocalized his fears of dragging you down with him but instead claimed you were holding him back would be erased. His pride would become a caged animal who had spent enough time roaming free and wreaking havoc on the best things in his life. Everything would go back to the way it was. Everything would be okay again. In his mind, that’s how this should have gone.

It didn’t. But he could still offer at least one piece of his dress rehearsals to you, leave at least one bandage behind for the trouble he’s caused.

“I’m sorry, you know,” he stumbles out, and it’s not nearly as smooth as all the words he’d repeated to the mirror, “I’m sorry for the way things ended.” 

You’d loved him. Really, really loved him. And he’d taken it for granted, he had used it and discarded it for all it had been worth. 

He’d always known you were smart. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, even if that love still burrowed in the channel of your heart frozen in time, forever cursed to a loop of the December night he’d chosen to chew you up and spit you back out.

“Don’t be,” you smile sadly, and he sees the glimpse of the you that still loves him, that still wants the best for him. The piece of you that will always treat him better than he deserves, “We got everything we wanted, right? It all worked out in the end.” 

“Right.” 

His tongue is dry, almost swollen, heavy in his throat. 

He doesn’t know how to tell you that no, he didn’t get everything he wanted. None of it worked out in the end. Because at the end of the day, he finds that the only thing he really wants is you, and he will never have you again. You had treated him so well, had been so damn good to and for him, and he hadn’t known what to do with himself. Some foolish part of him still believes that with the knowledge he finally holds now, he could treat you better — treat you right. But he can’t. He’ll never even get the chance. He’ll never even deserve the chance.

An exchange of goodbyes. A final glance. An acceptance that even if he locked away his pride now, it had already dug its claws into you, and the scars would always remain. 

He leaves more unspoken words in that coffee shop, at that table with you and your cold latte, than he can count. You both promise to reach out to each other more often, but you both know it won’t happen.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He never does these days. 

Repentance churns his chest, a familiar friend, and demands to be felt until he can see the sun begin to rise through the curtains of his hotel room. He swears he feels the ghost of gentle lips kissing his cheeks, whispering to come to bed, but it might just be the wind. 

There may only be a small piece of you frozen to that night and all your time together, and you may still have a possibility of thawing from the cold that he left you out in, but there is no such luxury for Eddie. He’ll always be there. Repeating words he doesn’t mean, watching tears well in your eyes as he destroys everything he’d ever wished for, setting aflame the one thing he could have done right in his life.

He writes another song about it, ignores the tear stains on the paper and adds it to the collection of all the ones that came before it. 

Across the city, your pillow matches the sheet of lyrics. Tears shed that Eddie would never be able to recognize through his own smoke and ash.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie. Regret, on the other hand, always would — always, for as long as you exist somewhere out there, frozen in December. 

“And I think about summer, all the beautiful times when I watched you laughing from the passenger side – and realized I loved you in the fall.”

[jqmalikhsgib]

stars

six

aaron holds his wife close to him. she’s only just got home and he missed the smell of her lilac shampoo. yn meant everything to him! losing haley sent him in a dark path for a long time. in the divorce and when she was killed. it broke him over and over again.

aaron never thought he’d have the willpower to move on from his first love. he thought she’d be his one and only. he accepted that, for awhile.

but in comes this most amazing, breathtaking, beautiful, smart, kind woman who instantly stole his heart!

yn and aaron met during one of his cases. it had been in new york city and it turned out fashion week just so happened to happen during the time they flew in new york for a case. it was a happy accident.

aaron liked to call it faith. normally he’d be the first one out of the hotel, heading straight to whatever precinct the team had to be for the case. he’d deal with the crappy coffee they had and get on with figuring out who the unsub could be.

that day was no different. this time though, he wanted to treat himself to better coffee. plus, he had been craving a dunkins donut for awhile.

when aaron arrived to dunkin donuts he sighs at the long line in the drive through. aaron decided to just go inside.

walking in he sighs as he stands in line. aaron soon hears commotion outside and sees that some people stopped a woman and asked for photos and autographs.

aaron ignores the commotion. he orders his drink and a few donuts, before he heads out. he gets a small glimpse of the woman before getting back in his car.

aaron didn’t really think too much of it. that is until he sees her again later that night. the team had solved the case, arresting the unsub and finding the woman he kidnapped, bringing her home safely. the team wanted to celebrate.

normally aaron would decline the offer to come along, wanting to get a good night sleep before jetting off the next morning. this time he accepted. he didn’t know why, but his inner voice told him he deserved to go out and have fun.

they went to a small club derek had found. he watched as his team danced, laughing at derek’s smooth moves.

aaron takes a sip of his beer before excusing himself to the restroom. once he finished his business he heads to the bar. aaron sees a woman looking very uncomfortable while a guy tries to flirt with her. she tries to be polite, giving him a smile. aaron could tell he wasn’t really getting the hint. she politely declines his advances. the man grabs her arm a little to aggressive for his liking. aaron frowns before walking over to them.

“everything okay?”

“yeah, it is! back up buddy!”

aaron puts his hands in the small of her back. the woman looks at him with pleading eyes. aaron recognizes her from earlier that day.

“i wasn’t asking you.”

“listen, i was having a discussion with the pretty lady here! why don’t you leave!”

aaron grabs his badge. the guy raised his hands before leaving.

“thank you!”

aaron hums. “yeah, any time.”

the woman smiles at him. “that a real badge or are you an actor?”

aaron gives her one of his signature small smiles. “it’s real. fbi.”

“oh? how long have you been an agent?”

aaron scoffs. “i don’t even remember. it’s been so long.”

“you look oddly familiar. have we met?”

“saw you at dunkins. you were signing autographs. im assuming you’re a celebrity?”

she laughs. “you don’t recognize me?”

aaron shakes his head. “mostly listen to the classics. i am quite old.” aaron states.

“you don’t look that old mister fbi agent! but, yeah, i am! im barely famous though. have like three albums out right now. it’s one reason why i can walk freely in the streets of new york without being spotted too much.”

“you can call me aaron.”

“aaron, huh? very suiting for an fbi agent. i like that. my names yn. i go by my middle name though in the industry, rihanna.”

aaron smiles. “what brings you here in new york?”

“i was invited to a few fashion shows. since im up and coming people want me everywhere. it’s been a busy week for me.” yn states.

“i understand. traveling a lot, yeah?”

“mhm. you travel?”

aaron nods. “yeah, all the time. im a profiler! my job consist being in different locations all the time.”

“profiler? you’re in the big leagues then, huh? i heard you gotta be crazy smart to be considered.”

aaron laughs. “something like that. it’s mostly got to do with reading people, places, and things, you know? just looking a little deeper than others would. like studying it more.”

“okay mister profiler, let’s see how good you are at your job. profile me.” yn smirks.

aaron smirks.

“just by standing next to you i can tell you’re an amazing artist. you write music from the heart and release it for the world to know who you are and what you’ve been through. you underestimate yourself. you don’t think you’re good enough which is why you call yourself low leveled, yet you’re already being invited to big events, which means you’re getting way more attention than you’ve ever imagined.”

yn left speechless. she didn’t know what else to do or say. yn just stood there before blinking rapidly. “wow, you’re good!”

“it’s just from the few things you’ve told me. nothing major.”

“who’s underestimating themselves now?” she smirks.

aaron chuckles.

the two continues to chat for a while. they lost track of time. soon enough emily comes to find aaron, letting him know she’s taking derek and spencer back to the hotel. both of them drunk off their ass.

aaron lets her know he’ll be right behind them.

“it was great talking to you, yn.” aaron smiles as he goes to walk away. “aaron, wait!”

aaron turns around. yn hands him a piece of paper. “please, call me. i enjoyed talking to you.”

aaron smiles. he places the paper in his pocket before waving. the rest was history.

he was smitten that very day and continued to be smitten about her. he felt like haley brought them together.

they were perfect. his perfect little star.

[myfandomprompts]

Dubious Headlines | Aemond Short Story (Part 2/3)

Aemond x Reader Modern!AU [Part 1 - Part 3]

Synopsis: In a world where Dragon Incorporation is the most powerful firm in town, Rhaenyra Targaryen's last announcement sends you, a journalist, to interview the younger sons of the family. However, you did not ask for any of this.

“Please please please, I beg you Y/N.”

“Mathilda, let me remind you that you are the one who owes me one. Not the other way around!”

You put your last coins into the coffee machine, waiting for your beverage to be served, your friend begging next to you.

“I know I do but this is different! All that you have to do is come with me, sit your ass down, raise your hand every now and then and nothing more! You won’t even have to talk.”

You retrieved your cup before raising your eyes at your friend, arching a brow high, jaded. “This actually sounds worse Mathilda. You want me to… what, basically do nothing and watch while I have a ton of work waiting for me? Sorry but next time.”

You made your way to your desk again, determined to not yield to her pleading eyes. She stayed close behind.

“You know it’s more than that! Sam is usually the one to do it, he is on that other thing and you know we have more chances to get picked at press conferences if we are at least two! Come on, those Targaryens serve the best buffets, you will love it! Think of all the people you might meet for your future articles.”

You almost choked on your coffee when you heard the family name of the owners of Dragon Inc., blue and lilac eyes flashing into your mind, but you quickly recovered. “This is a press conference about the subdivision of Dragon Inc.? We are still covering that?” you asked rather eagerly, failing in staying cool in front of your colleague.

“Yes it is. I thought you would be interested since you were the one to get that exclusive interview. Great job by the way!” she winked.

Her attempts at buttering you up failed as you only responded with a cold and hard look, making her cheer smile disappear and be replaced by a grimace. It had been her fault if you had been forced to do that interview. Yes, the article had been a hit online, people a little too feral at the second son’s long due opinion, but you refused to do anything similar again, and you also refused to do other people’s jobs while they decided to bail out of work. Like Mathilda had.

“Tell you what,” she continued, resolute to have you on board, “You come with me, and I am your photographer for Sunday’s event.”

You raised a brow at her again. “You mean the fountain inauguration?”

“Yes yes whatever, I’m your gal.”

You bit the inside of your cheek in hesitation. “I don’t need a photographer.”

“Yeah right. I’ve seen your pictures. I assure you, your articles deserve better photos, and I am quite good at this. Please Y/N.”

She was right, of course, but you were still hesitant. But even if you would not admit it, you had made your decision the minute you heard the word “Targaryen”.

“Let it be clear between us: you still owe me. Big time.”

Mathilda’s face lit up at your words. “You won’t regret it! You are a life saver.”

“Yeah…” you sighed, looking at the unfinished article on your screen.

The corporate headquarters were in the city centre, and thankfully for you, Mathilda seemed to know her way around as you grabbed a press badge and headed in one of the alleys of chairs in the conference hall, taking a seat two rows away from the stage. The loud murmurs began to fade as the subjects of your presence entered the room, taking place on the table in front of mikes.

In your opinion, you thought press conferences to be rather dull, gladly letting your other colleagues attend to them as you preferred to be tasked with other assignments, but every so often you would be forced to attend. Now it was one of those times, except that you only had to raise your hand every now and then, and let Mathilda do what she knew best as you relaxed into your chair. What a blast.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, beautiful and classy looking, was in the middle of the table, towering over the room, next to her uncle Daemon and other people you assumed to be part of the board. Mathilda whispered some of their names into your ear as they took a seat, among them Otto Hightower or Larys Strong, but quickly you weren’t listening any more as you saw three people that needed no introduction enter.

Aegon Targaryen, sunglasses on top of his head and hair tied in a bun, was followed by his sister Helaena, shy in appearance, and finally Aemond, who took place at the far left end of the table, just in front of where your seat was.

You swallowed nervously as you watched his eye scan the entire room with intensity while you took care in making yourself as small as possible, hidden behind the reporter in front of you.

As Rhaenyra opened the conference and hands rose up in the hair, yours included, you witnessed how the one-eyed Targaryen quickly fell into polite boredom, looking sometimes at his phone as all of the questions seemed directed only to his eldest sister. Aegon even engaged in a conversation with his grandfather during one of her replies, by disrespectful intent or simple inattention, you did not know.

At one point you had lost yourself so much in the way Aemond’s fingers moved on the table that the sudden voice of Mathilda next to you, finally picked to ask her questions, pulled you out of your reveries and forced you to pay attention. Her question was unsurprisingly directed at Aegon, and the Targaryen was finally able to talk for the first time. You listened to his voice, which you found to be far less enticing than his brother’s and risked a glance at the man in question, who was now paying attention to what was said again.

You were not prepared for the chills that covered your body when you witnessed his gaze dart from Mathilda, surely looking for the journalist that had taken interest in this brother, and then locking on to you, eyes widening slightly at your sight. You quickly averted your gaze back to Aegon, feigning to be focused on his words as you tried to control your heartbeat, until the eldest son ended his speech and drew your eyes to his brother again, finding him still looking at you. If Aemond Targaryen had been bored moments before, he certainly was not any more.

Mathilda nudged your side to give you a satisfied smile that you returned to her, letting out the breath you did not know you were holding and sat back in your chair, more than happy that the reporter in front of you had moved just enough to hide the silver-haired man from your view.

Then the conference came to an end and you had got up and tried to drag Mathilda by the arm, eager to leave but she had told you that she needed to see a bunch of people first in order to write her article. You had no choice but to stay when someone called out to her in the crowded lobby.

“Miss Swanson!”

Mathilda turned on her heels to face Aegon, smiling and extending his hand to shake hers. “M. Targaryen. A pleasure as always,” she said, warmly returning his smile.

He returned the greetings and when formalities were exchanged, he turned to look at you. “This is my colleague, Miss L/N,” Mathilda introduced you. “She is the author of the latest Westerosi’s article about your firm. Well, for now,” she winked, pointing her finger at her pad.

“Pleased to meet you M.Targaryen,” you said, extending your hand to meet his.

“Ah yes, a fine work you have done. I know my brother can be quite difficult sometimes, but you were up to the task I believe.”

You thanked him with a grateful smile. Aegon Targaryen turned out to be more charming than you had imagined, his confident attitude giving him the true appearance of a leader, even if you did not completely agree with his view on his brother.

Mathilda then inquired about the next steps of Aegon’s plans for his branch among other things, and you quickly lost interest until a tall figure approached Aegon from behind.

“… for the next few weeks. In fact, my brother here-” Aegon said as he saw his brother appear at his side, tapping his back, “-will be the one to take care of it. He is far more knowledgable in this matter than me,” he laughed as Aemond smiled politely, taking his place inside the circle just before you.

“Let me guess. This is about the investment plan, correct?” he inquired, glancing at his brother with a side look.

“Right on the mark as always,” Aegon smiled again. “Lovely Mathilda here had done her homework and already knew of it. It seems that I just cannot hide anything from her.”

Aemond only hummed as his eye examined your friend, lowering his head in a silent greeting before speaking. “This is not supposed to be made public before another week. I would be grateful if you kept the conversation you just had with my brother out of the records please.”

His tone was polite, and his voice soft, and you wondered how this man, possessing such charisma had not made it to the top yet. Mathilda could only nod as Aegon gently chuckled.

“Sometimes I truly wonder if you should not rather be the head of communication, and myself the head of finance brother.”

“Mhh,” was Aemond’s only reply. You all thought he would speak again but he remained perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back and Mathilda resumed her conversation with Aegon again.

You were unable to listen to what they said, Aemond’s eye was once again on you, his lips slightly curved upwards. “I’m surprised to see you here, Miss L/N, I thought that this kind of event wasn’t falling into your usual area of expertise.”

“Oh, I am just Mathilda’s second on this. She needed a plus one," you managed to say, glad to not be the first to break the ice. Or rather the unbearable tension that hanged in the air between you.

“Mh. I thought as much. It seemed we are both doomed to be the shadow of someone today for I am ensuring that Aegon does not say anything he shouldn’t," he smiled, glancing at his sibling. “Although I have already failed, it seems.”

You scoffed at that, glancing briefly at your side where Mathilda and the other Targaryen were deep into conversation. You didn’t know they were that close.

“Did you have the chance to read the article I wrote, M. Targaryen?”

He was tempted to tell you to call him by his first name instead of being so formal, but as he considered it he decided that hearing his name on your lips would be a dangerous thing for his self-control, your voice speaking his last name already music to his ears.

Maybe later. “I did. I really enjoyed it. But I did not expect anything else from you.” he paused as he saw you blush a bit. “From someone from your firm, I mean.”

You weakly nodded, your throat becoming a little dry but at the same time two pairs of eyes landed on you and Aemond as their own conversation ended on their side. “Well, ladies, even though I would rather spend time with you than with all of these vultures, it would be unfair if we stayed to speak with only you instead of sharing our time with your peers. If you will excuse us…”

Aemond’s serious look had reappeared and both brothers were now walking toward another circle of journalists.

You inhaled sharply as you stared into Aemond’s back. “Can we go now? You have everything that you need?”

“Hey, don’t be so grumpy, you just met two of the most influential men in town!”

“Yeah right,” you scoffed as you both walked to the exit. “You still owe me one.”

It was cold for a Sunday morning, hands safely tucked into your coat as you walked toward the main plaza where a small crowd had already gathered. Officials from the city hall were standing next to the inaugural ribbon installed for the occasion, and you waved at the several familiar faces as you scanned the crowd to find your newly appointed photographer.

“Here you are! Way to be on time Y/N.”

“There was traffic from the main road to here. It was to be expected.”

Mathilda looked over your shoulder to where you just came from, acknowledging the mass of cars.

“I guess. Really thought it would be too cold for anyone to show up. Anyway, I took some pictures already,” she said as she put out her camera for you to see. “The mayor… the architect team… and oh look! How cute is this dog?”

You chuckled as you saw the picture of a dog stretching, his tiny tail in the air.

“Very cute! Did you get a picture of M. Hernet?” you asked, looking around for the man in question.

“Who?” your friend said, face confused.

You sighed in despair. “The deputy. The one in charge of the project, the most important man of the event?”

Her confused look deepened as you watched her face become slightly worried. You regretted your behaviour at once.

“Sorry just, don’t worry he will be the one to cut the ribbon anyway, you will get a better picture then.”

Mathilda nodded, reassured. Where she knew the business world, you knew the political world and culture, and as you made your way across the crowd to do your job, Mathilda continued her task at taking pictures admirably.

It took a whole hour of hand shaking and recorded conversations between officials and citizens before the inauguration began and for the deputy to take place behind the rostrum and speak. You only had to stand back and take notes for now, Mathilda next to you.

“… and I would like first to thank our most generous benefactor that made this fine homage to our beloved city possible, M. Aemond Targaryen from Dragon Incorporation who is here with us today…”

You felt blood rush into your ears as applause erupted around you, following the deputy’s gaze to land on the silver-haired man standing next to his assistant and the mayor, politely smiling as the people cheered him briefly. You felt Mathilda’s jaw drop next to you.

“Oh my god… did you know about this?”

You shook your head in response as you kept staring at him, wondering how you did not notice him before, his perfectly groomed hair glittering in the sun and a long green coat, making him ethereal.

“That’s a first. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him attend official stuff like that,” your friend commented, quite surprised yourself at his presence but deciding that for the moment, you had to focus on the speech above all else.

The deputy kept on with a rather long one, enumerating other benefactors and underlining the importance of city identity for what seemed like an eternity before the scissors were brought to him. Still focused but feeling the event near the end, you put away your pen and kept your notes safely into your hands as Mathilda had gone to find a higher point to find a better angle to take pictures.

You slowly found yourself in the back of the crowd as the deputy cut the ribbon, revealing the brand new fountain with the statue of Bran the Builder, an eminent historical figure of your town.

“That’s rather ugly, isn’t it?”

You jumped at the voice next to your ear, finding Aemond Targaryen standing next to you, eye examining the face of Bran the builder with an interested look. Damn he was tall.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at Bran’s disproportionate body, crooked nose and prominent moustache, trying to ignore how good the man at your side smelled.

“Don’t lie Miss L/N. I know you have finer tastes than this, I have read your articles on the latest art exhibition at the city gallery.”

You felt a jolt of pride as you realised that Aemond Targaryen had taken an interest in your other works, but you decided to play it humble.

“At least he is recognisable,” you replied, internally laughing. “You like art, M. Targaryen?”

“I do. In fact my mother and I had opened a gallery of our own to expose art that deserved better treatment in our opinion. You would love it, I think.”

You looked at him with enthusiasm, your interest definitely picked up as he looked very satisfied with himself.

“Is it open to the public? I have never heard of it.”

“Not yet, but I would be honoured if you were the first to review it and publish something about it. I know your opinion to be usually of value and on point."

“Then I will stop by,” you grinned, happy to be part of such an exclusive occasion. You knew his mother Alicent was a reputed art amateur with a very good eye for talented painters. No wonder his son would be as refined as her.

You both watched in comfortable silence as people kept on applauding at the structure, the mayor advancing to shake hands with the deputy and the architect’s team, big smiles on their faces. Then your journalist instinct kicked in again.

“I have to ask,” you began, “As a benefactor, was the contribution in the name of your firm or was it your own money?”

“If you wish to interview me again, we should find a less crowded place to do so Miss L/N.”

“It’s a simple question. It can be off the record if you want," you replied. “And you can call me Y/N.”

Aemond’s gaze scanned you with intensity, pausing as you unconsciously reached for your pen again, awaiting his response. “Very well, Y/N,” you felt something twitch in your stomach at that last word as he reported his eye on the statue. “On the record, I will say that our family takes great care in our city's legacy, since we are ourselves descending from the founders, so it was important to us that the company as a whole contributes to further establish its greatness.”

You stopped yourself from arguing over the veracity of his claim about his family being one of the founders and kept on.

“So you are only here as your family representative?”

“Correct,” his eye did not glance away from the fountain as he leaned in closer to you, his breath reaching your skin. “And, off the record, I have hated every moment of it until now.”

You could only stare at him as he stood back straight again, a faint smile on his lips, and you thought that your heart had stopped beating. He had to stop whatever he was doing, or else you would be unable to remember how to breathe properly.

“For what it’s worth,” you said, clearing your throat as you reported your gaze on the fountain as well. “I think you are doing a great job for someone who doesn’t like public appearances.”

You felt his eye pass on you briefly but said nothing before the mayor took the stand again, stealing your professional attention as you listened to him thanking subordinates and the citizens for their unfailing support. You felt your body relax as the people started to step closer in order to examine the fountain, letting your arms fall at your sides leisurely.

The next moment you felt your fingers touch something warm and quickly looked down to see Aemond’s hand inches away from yours. Your index then seemed to move on his own accord, reaching for the back of his hand that remained perfectly still, and in your trance state you could feel blood pump into your ears.

You completely lost yourself in the feeling of how soft his skin was for a moment, all things around you put on mute, until you saw his hand twitch, as if suddenly awaken by your touch. It made you realise what you were doing and pull out your hand in a sharp movement, apologising immediately as you met his perplexed look. What the hell were you doing?

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t mean to-”

“Your hands are freezing,” he interrupted.

And yours are burning hot, you thought. It was incredible how warm his skin has been under your fingers, convinced that his touch would leave a mark on yours.

“Oh it’s nothing, I get cold hands really quickly so…”

He reached for your hand again and it took everything you had not to moan on the spot as he put it inside both of his palms, sending shivers up into your arm at his warmth. You could have stayed hours like this, yearning for more while he just stared at your palm, tracing small circles into the inside of your wrist. You both said nothing, his eye slightly hooded with something you did not recognise and after a while, it was his turn to realise what he was doing and gently let go of your hand, tucking his hands back safely into his coat pockets before further embarrassing himself. Your skin itched in frustration.

“You should drink something warm,” he stated, looking around him, his face becoming slightly red. “There is a c-”

“M. Targaryen!”

A man called Simon, the city hall press supervisor that you had known for many years now, was making his way through the crowd, and as he saw you next to Aemond, his eyes brightened when he recognised you. “Ah Y/N! Beautiful as always….” he said, shaking your hand as you briefly sensed Aemond tense slightly next to you. “I’m glad they sent you!”

“Who else?” you smiled back, happy for the distraction he granted you from Aemond’s burning touch. He turned to the man in question.

“M. Targaryen, would you be so kind as to join the mayor in order to take some pictures? It will only take a moment.”

You saw him bite his lip in frustration, clearly not attracted by the prospect of doing such a public act, but he ultimately obliged, following Simon to the front as you tried not to think of how his lower lip had slightly reddened at the movement.

“Okay, I think I have everything,” you heard Mathilda say as she reached you, eyes locked on the screen of her camera. “You’re gonna be happy with those.”

You only hummed in acknowledgment as you watched Aemond display a fake smile of contentment and shake hands amidst the camera flashes. You tried not to cringe too much when multiple women went to him in order to talk to him as the mayor released him.

“What are you staring at like that? You’re not even blinking.”

You detached your gaze from Aemond at once, not wishing for Mathilda to conclude anything before turning on your heels to leave.

“Nothing. I’ll head home and start writing. You’ll send me the picture soon, okay?”

Mathilda nodded as she watched you leave, clearly taken aback by your shift of mood.

Near the fountain, Aemond cursed the many people blocking his way as he saw you leave.

Part 3

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