#who even are the people who work in an office and how did they get there

[wifeyoozi]

svt reaction about their gf receiving tons of love confessions

ot13 seventeen : their partner recieving love confessions

seungcheol : sulky af. Why are other people even looking in your direction? Why is anyone except him even in 10 feet radius of you? Why do they not know you are his girlfriend? Are they tryna separate you? He's pouting so much it's almost hilarious to you as you explain to him that you would reject any confessions since you already have your one true love.

Jeonghan : honestly he's so proud about it. So damn cheeky. "Oh they like you? If course, my girlfriend is the prettiest. But I'm the one who hit the jackpot."

Joshua : he's not really bothered about it as long as you are not bothered. But when they start to get a little extensive or make your uncomfortable or get creepy, he may get a little worked up about it.

Jun : pouty 2.0 . Literally hiding you everytime he sees another man so much as glance at you. Would answer for any confessions you get. Literally 2 minutes away from hiding you in a little velvet box in his room so no one but him can see you again hehe <3

Hoshi : he's tryna put on the pretense that he doesn't care but internally possessive asf. Clinges to you in public more so everyone can see who's girlfriend you are. Will comment under every Instagram post of yours like "loml" "only my girl" "my girlfriend <33" etc

Wonwoo : as long as you don't react to the letters and confessions, he doesn't mind. You're beautiful enough to have people simp on you. He did too once. He might go for some kinda excuse sex to "show who's girl you are" tho he trusts you know that anyways.

Woozi : you getting confessions isn't really surprising to him but so many??? Pissed off by people who'd dare to confess to you even when it's so visible that he's the one dating you. Can see him glaring at any guy who's looking at you when you're together. Internally just 😡😡😡 about anyone looking at you in the way only he has the right to.

Seokmin : doesn't really care. If anything, he's written at least 50% of the confession letter you find on your office bench. 6 years in your dating. He trusts you not to betray him. If he sees the confession gifts or letters before you, he'll hide them or discard them himself.

Mingyu : pouty and smug simultaneously. So proud that he's got such a perfect girlfriend and everyone can see it to. But who tf would actually ball to confess? When you have a boyfriend? And that boyfriend is mingyu? And when mingyu loves you so much? They can see the door.

Minghao : pouty and sassy. "Oh you're getting confessions? Then go date those other bous. You probably forgot your boyfriend among the confessions. Hmph." Ofc he doesnt mean any of that. He knows you'll giggle and come kissing him and knows you aren't gonna actually leave him.

Seungkwan : I can hear his pouty voice. Yk that one douying video where the gf mimiks annoyingly when her bf gets complimented by other girl? That's how seungkwan treats you. You won't get a break and it's honestly hilarious to see him so worked up as if any of the other guys have a chance against your boobs in your heart

Vernon : unphased af. Idk why this man doesn't give a fuck. It's not like you're accepting any confessions what's he got to worry about. Only if someone is being too forceful or making you uncomfortable, he makes move to push them off himself make sure no one bugs you again

Chan : lowkey jealous. How come you are getting confessions but not him?? Prolly would like show off of he got any gifts or confessions himself. I am sorry he's just built like that. He's just a needy baby, wants to make you jealous so you make angry love with him 🫶🏻

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP fanfic Idea: Side Hustle

Barry needs more cash.

It's not that he is struggling, but unlike Bruce, he had student loans, a mortgage, and all the medical bills for Iris to consider. Even with his wife working, he knew they needed to keep a tight grip on their spending to ensure they didn't fall from the yellow into the red.

This means that sometimes he had to watch Wally's face fall when he admitted he couldn't afford to give him an allowance or even some money to go to the mall with his friends. It's not that his nephew complains—Wally is a very understanding young man—but it still tears Barry up inside to disappoint him.

Significantly when, their hero work cut so deeply into their funds just to keep their speedster metabolism under control. If he hadn't done his foolish experiment, Wally wouldn't be in danger of starvation for following his example.

Blood or not, Wally is like a son to him, and the idea that he can only provide the bare basics is painful. He has a high-paying job now, but it will take a while to get all his debt from when he was a student under control.

Before he married Iris, he was okay with that. He now had a wife and son who depended on him, and he couldn't wait around, hoping things would pick up after a few years.

He managed to pay off most of Iris' medical bills, and the house was an excellent step up from the cramped two-room apartment they shared when they were engaged. Barry knew that these two things were good, but he could do better.

That's how he applied as a research assistant to a strange family company called Fenton Works. The pay was decent, and it was only a short hour's drive from his home—he speed-ran it in five, but he needed a realistic distance to keep his ID protected. And best of all?

He mostly did office work. Half the time, he was allowed to do remote work documenting research data and organizing the owner's inventions and patents.

There were many funds coming from said patents and inventions. If the Fentons weren't so busy spending the money to fund their ghost research—the power grid they needed for the portal alone was almost as much as Barry's entire mortgage—then they could easily be among the few in Bruce's fancy galas.

Barry will admit that he was surprised to learn that Mr. Fenton had a PhD in engineering, applied physics, and robotics. Mrs. Fenton had a PhD in nuclear physics, functional analysis, and renewable energy. Both were currently working on getting a PhD in some form of biology, and Barry was flabbergasted that they spoke about it the same way people casually decided to start a new hobby.

It was hard, but they had the money to just sign up for classes. He wept into his student loan reminders whenever he thought about it.

They made the perfect team- one thought up the idea, and the other created a physical form while they ensured it worked together.

He knew his bosses were certified geniuses who appeared goofy was one thing, but to be confronted with their degrees stuffed away in a storage box was another thing. He hadn't even meant to find them since he had gone in there with Danny- his boss's kid- to find some paper research Dr. Jack Fenton needed.

It was even more shocking to find that Dr. Jack had sold some of his systematics to Wayne Enterprises and that Bruce had used some of his robotics theories in his Batman gear.

It also seemed that most of the Amity Park were unaware of how intelligent the Fentons were. When he was out and about in the city, he kept getting pitying looks for working for the local freaks. It was honestly shocking.

People talked about Jasmine Fenton's bright future, the only hope among the family, in the same breath as calling Jack Fenton an idiot or Maddie Fenton a washed-up housewife. The things they had to say about Danny Fenton were far more disheartening.

Barry knows a thing or two about troubled youths as the Flash, and no matter what the town told him, Danny Fenton was not one of them.

It seemed to Barry that Danny was suffering from blatant bullying and the pressure of his family's shadow. Adding to the confusion of being in the middle of puberty, it created the perfect recipe for Danny to be spirling. It was a rough patch, and it led to him skipping class, dropping his grades, and ignoring his responsibilities.

He overheard the Fentons talking about Danny. Dr. Fentons was starting to grow worried since Danny had never behaved this way before high school while Jazz attempted to defend her brother and excuse his disappearance.

She seemed very aware of why her brother seemed to change.

On the other hand, Dr. Fenton wasn't and mentioned more than once that she and Danny were very close when he was a kid, but lately, he seemed to be shutting her out. Her husband admitted that he figured Danny had gotten a girlfriend- someone named Sam?- but he started to notice his son kept coming home with what appeared to be injuries.

Barry wasn't sure if they were aware that Danny was getting bullied. He was carefully filing some of the old cabinets when it clicked.

"Jazz?" He called out as the Fentons finally stop talking about Dnany's behavior and moved down to the lab. The teenager poked her head into the file office with a curious smile.

"Yes, Mr. Allen?" No matter how often he told her to call him Barry, she seemed determined to keep that barrier between them. Which was fair. After all, he was only around the house three or four times a week for a few hours.

"I have a question, so please feel free to not answer." He starts carefully to keep his tone light. Her smile turns strained at once, and Barry almost tells her to ignore it, but the thought of Wally being Danny's place makes him push on. "What is your family's stance on gay rights?"

Jazz blinked slowly, tilting her head. "I don't mind, and neither do my parents, I think. Why sir?"

"Just curious," Barry said, but mentally, he wondered if Danny knew that.

Jazz didn't look convinced, but she didn't push the issue as she wandered away with a respectful by-your-leave. He waited until she was upstairs before abandoning his work to find the Fentons.

Carefully, he started by updating them on his work, then casually dropped the mention of taking Wally to Pride so he wouldn't be able to work the following week. Neither Dr. so much as blinked, telling him that it was fine.

Barry felt it safe to keep pushing just a little.

"Yeah, I still remember how nervous Wally was about telling me he liked girls and boys." He chuckles. "As if though I didn't notice the signs."

Dr. Fenton raises a brow, face twisted in confusion as the large man turns to Barry. "What signs?"

"Mostly, he is trying to think of excuses to be with his friends more. He wasn't sleeping a lot, got into a bit of trouble in school when some kids were giving him grief, and oh, the way his eyes followed young men about." Barry said as casually as one could.

Dr. Fenton looks pensive. "Interesting."

Ah, it seemed she had picked up on the possibility of Danny not being as straight as he claimed. She thankfully didn't seem bothered by it.

"Jack, honey, you don't think Danny could be....?" She asked carefully.

Dr. Fenton ran a hand through his hair. "It could be. But why didn't he tell us?"

"Oh geez, I wonder why!" Jazz suddenly yells from the stairway. Barry twists around to find her standing there with a defensive glare. She has obviously been eavesdropping, but for how long? "What did you two expect with the way you talked around the house?!"

Dr. Fenton looked mystified. "Jazzy-pants, what are you talking about?"

His daughter only raises her fist, lowering her voice to mimic her father. "What are we doing today, Maddie? I know; how about we rip the ghost boy molecule by molecule!"

Barry's eyes grow wide. He had been working for the family for about six months and had encountered Phantom more than once. He even fought him off as Flash a few times since the ghost was hell-bent on robbing and property damage but was less dangerous than his rouges.

Dr. Fenton's face went pale as she clutched to the table. "Jazz you mean....Danny and Phantom...."

Jazz looked ready to fight them all as she bit out, "If you try to do anything to Danny, I swear-"

"We would never Jazzy-pants." Jack cut in, looking off Kindle. "To think my son was dating a ghost behind my back and I...I didn't even notice."

"Oh, Jack, we have to apologize," Maddie started. "Who knows if Danny could ever forgive us?"

Barry was thinking Flash also had to apologize. Based on their last encounter, Phantom would likely not be willing to hear him out. He quickly pulls out his phone to see if Wally and his team could get close enough to have him consider speaking to Barry.

None of the adults noticed the way Jazz froze in confusion, nor did they notice the slow horror growing on her face as they came to terms with Phantom and Danny dating.

[hotchreid-cm]

Moment of Weakness (2) / Aaron Hotchner

(He's so pretty)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: The aftermath to the incident in Hotch's office.

Warnings: Typical Criminal minds topics (bombings), rushed and not proofread. Not really a happy ending...

A/N: I wrote a part 2 since so many wonderful people asked. Not sure if I liked it and I got too carried away, oops!

(Read Part 1 Here)

After the incident in Hotch's office you weren't sure that you could face the man again. You felt like you only made his situation worse, which was never your intention.

You had just got caught up in the moment. You had had a crush on Hotch just after your third case with the team. It had taken a toll on you and Hotch offered to drive you home.

And when he parked outside, you just sat there, taking more of his time but he didn't care. He talked to you for what felt like ages, about the case, the team, Jack and Haley...and the crush steadily turned into a quiet pining.

You kept it to yourself of course. You never told anyone, and you obviously did a great job of hiding it because no one suspected a thing. Not even Hotch, which killed you but you'd never ruin a family like that.

You heard how he spoke of Haley and Jack that night over a year ago now and if anything, you were happy that he was happy. Until his confession in his office last night.

JJ pulls you out of your thoughts, "we've got a case. Two bombings in the last 24 hours. We're leaving in 10 minutes, we'll debrief on the jet."

You take the file from her and look it over before grabbing your go bag and heading for the jet.

You were the last but one on which made you frown, "where's Hotch?"

Rossi looked over to you, "personal day. He'll meet us there when he can."

You didn't hear much after that. Your thoughts racing with all sorts of possibilities and hoping none of it was because of you. The guilt sitting in your stomach like a stone.

By the time Hotch caught up to the team, you were all gathered in the precinct talking to Garcia.

Everyone paused the conversation to fill Hotch in. The thinking was a high school student getting revenge. There was at least one victim from every explosion linked to the same school. The others just got caught in the crossfire.

"If that's the case then we need to talk to the parents and close friends of the ones who died and see if anyone had a grudge against them", Hotch says.

"I'll go back to the Denvers and talk to them since I've only just left. They had a son die in the second explosion and the brother may know something. " You jump in straight after Hotch, eager to go back to the family you were trying to help through this.

He shakes his head, "no, you stay here with Reid and try and figure out where he might strike next. Prentiss and Morgan go to the Jason's. Rossi and I will go to the Denvers while JJ handles the media coverage."

Everyone springs into action but you step forward, "you're benching me?"

Hotch turns back to you sharply, "stay here and work the profile with Reid."

"I'm the one that should talk to the Denvers, I've already built rapport" your voice rising.

"Stay here at the station with Reid. That's an order." Hotch turns away and stalks out the office with everyone else giving you sympathetic looks on their way out.

You and Reid work the case. Rossi calls not long after they left saying the Denvers were on the way to a memorial service put on for families of the second explosion but they couldn't say whether anyone held a grudge against their son.

Then Morgan calls, "okay, Jessica Lambert said that Danny Denvers is the one that gets picked on the most at school."

You perk up, "wait, Danny? As in, Tommy Denvers brother who died in the explosion?"

"Yeah, and Jessica also said that Tommy would join in on the bullying so that he could fit in."

You look to Reid in horror, "I thought he was so withdrawn because his brother had just died, not because..."

Reid voices the conclusion you just came to, "Danny Denvers is our unsub."

You pull your phone out and dial Hotch on instinct.

"What?" He answers.

And you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, "the Denvers, you said they were going to a memorial service, was Danny going with them?"

"No, they said he wasn't feeling well. Why?"

"Danny Denvers is the unsub. He got bullied at school and even by his own brother, Tommy."

You hear the car spin around as Hotch says, "we'll go back to the house. Tell Morgan and Prentiss to head to the school. Stay at the station."

And he was gone before you could protest.

After telling Morgan where to go, you stare at the board in front of you.

Reid asks, "what's wrong?"

You shrug, "something doesn't feel right. If Danny wanted to blow up the school he could have just gone this morning. Instead he stayed back."

Reid scrunches his nose, "okay, so what's your point?"

You think back to your time at the Denver house and it clicks. You call Garcia, "hello Mr and Mrs Genius, how can I help you?"

"Garcia, the Denvers said they were going to a memorial service today. Can you tell me where it is?"

You hear the typing before she answers, "I just sent the address to your phone."

"Thanks", you say as you rush to grab car keys from the desk.

"Hotch said you had to stay at the station." Reid says, phone already in hand.

"I'm the closest and I'm not going to be benched because Hotch can't get his head out of his ass."

You race to the funeral home, stepping out of the car and scanning the area for any signs of the service amongst the gravestones.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket like its been doing the whole drive here. You answer to Hotch's booming voice, "do not go in without back up or bomb squad."

You shake your head despite him not being able to see, "bomb squad won't get here in time."

You keep scanning as he replies, "I mean it. Don't approach on your own. Danny profiles like a-"

You cut him off as your eyes land on the scene you were looking for, "a suicide bomber."

You see him with a crudely made vest and a trigger in hand as he screams at his parents.

You take off towards them, phone still to your ear as you say, "Hotch. I'm sorry." Hoping he can hear everything you really want to say.

You hang up and draw your gun as you dodge the people fleeing. You call out, "Danny! Remember me? Is it okay if we talk?"

"I don't want to talk to you. I want them to listen." His wild eyes looking to his parents.

"I know they never listened to you. I know they always put Tommy first, even when he was the one bullying you." You step closer to the Denvers, trying to draw his attention away from them.

Tears stream down his face, "I never did anything wrong! Tommy was the one going to parties and staying out past curfew and he was still the favourite!"

"So you decided to teach them all a lesson?"

He looks to you as sirens wail closer and closer, "well someone had to! No one was going to save me from them so I had to do it myself!"

You finally step in front of the Denvers blocking his view, "and I think you taught the lesson well. Now everyone knows."

You see Rossi and Hotch coming towards you as you gesture the Denvers to go towards them.

Danny watches his parents go with surprising calm as you say, "just give me the trigger so you can tell everyone your story."

With eyes still on his parents he mumbles, "they'll never get it."

You hear Hotch call your name as Danny takes his finger off the trigger.

You dive for cover, landing in the 6ft hole meant for the casket. You feel your body slam into the ground, losing consciousness before help arrives.

When you come to, it's mostly a blur. The hospital checked you over and after some arguing, they agreed to let you go as long as you got checked out back home.

The jet ride back was quiet and once it landed everyone went their separate ways. Except Hotch.

"I'd like to drive you home, if I may?" He asks.

You shake your head, "nah, I'm good. I can wait to hear the riot act on Monday."

Hotch places his hand on your forearm so gently you can barely feel it, "please?"

You stare at each other for a few moments until you finally agree.

Once you're on the road Hotch says, "what you did was reckless."

He says it with a soft voice which is somehow so much worse than if he just yelled at you.

You loved his voice, you loved the comfort he exudes even when he's angry but right now you wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Hotch, please..."

But he continues, "and while it was incredibly reckless, I have to say I owe you an apology."

Your mouth pops open as you turn to look at the man behind the wheel.

He sighs, "if I didn't have my head up my ass, I wouldn't have benched you and made you feel the need to run into danger on your own."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks, "you heard that, huh?"

Hotch shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Reid had already dialled my number when you said it."

Silence descends again until he parks up outside your apartment.

"I'm also sorry for the things I've said."

You stare out the window when you reply, "when?"

Hotch parrots your question with more confusion, "when?"

"Which time? You've been a dick to me ever since that night. It took the both of us to make that mistake. And the funny thing is you're not even angry at me, you're angry at yourself and you're taking it out on me and I don't deserve that."

"You're right, you don't. You deserve so much more. I realised that I could have lost you and...I'm not sure I'm ready to look into why that's terrified me so much. And I know I don't have a right to ask this but I would like it if you waited."

You study his profile, not quite understanding what he's going through but wanting to all the same.

He looks to you and the vulnerability you see laid bare in his eyes takes your breath away, "Me and haley are going through a divorce and a part of me will always love her. Things will be messy for a while but I'd like to take you to dinner...maybe when things calm down, if you'll let me?"

You're not really sure what to say. You've wanted Aaron Hotchner to ask you out for a long time. You've wanted him for even longer. But this isn't how you imagined that would go.

You knew things would be complicated with Haley and you knew he'd always love her in some way and it didn't bother you. But the timing of it all made you feel more like a consolation prize than someone he truly wants.

You reach your palm out until it makes contact with his cheek, you thumb stroking the dark circles underneath his eyes.

"I've been in love with you for a long time, Aaron Hotchner. And all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. And those two things have been in conflict ever since."

His eyes take on a glassy tint as his hand covers your one on his face. He understands what you're saying but you say it anyway.

"I don't think I'm what you need to make that happen right now. And I don't know if I'll ever be that or if I can wait that long for you to figure it out."

You give Hotch a sad smile, dropping your hand and exiting the car. Each step further away from him, makes your chest ache. And you wonder if you'll always carry that ache wherever you go.

A/n: I guess I'm feeling angsty lately but hope you enjoyed all the same!!

[bunniedolle]

soft yandere killer who've lived his entire childhood completely lacking of love, making him believe that he would be truly living the rest of his days as a heartless killer. but after meeting you, though he's still a murderer, his once dead heart now beats with life, just like how you've always brought life to your many genius artistry.

soft yandere killer who is reborn through the series of horrifying events that happened in his life and curses the very town that gave birth to him as the monster he is, the simple whisper of his name blowing shivers down anyone's spine.

he haunts the people, chasing them even inside their dreams and thoughts, leaving them anxious and restless at night wondering if they'll be the next unfortunate victim within his sadistic hands.

with his lingering presence, some can't continue living their normal lives as even the slightest movement from the shadows of their feet scares them to death. the majority decided to take action. escaping into a faraway country until their selves and their families are tucked away safely from his rotten gaze. while others remained in their homes despite the ongoing chaos.

they can only pray to the gods that they believed in, while also entrusting their faith and trust into the shoulders of their hardworking police officers and detectives.

though many residents have fled to a much safer sanctuary, there are those few who moved in and replaced the empty homes they left behind. perhaps they were too late to hear the news. but nevertheless, you were one of those people.

aspiring, yet you were also a lazy painter. unless your creative mind is inspired by something, your fingers would be even too lazy to lift up a paint brush. the exhaustion that was never there before suddenly slugging your movements.

but the moment you picked up that familiar spark that makes the gears in your head suddenly work, you never waste a moment spilling every hard work to create that masterpiece, refusing to let go of the firm grip you had around the paintbrush until your eyes find satisfactory.

and it happened on one particular night on your way home. but unfortunately, not in the same way you did in the past when you would come across a beautiful scenery.

you weren't expecting to stumble across the killer murdering one of the townspeople, the smell of iron strongly hitting your nostrils the moment their blood splattered across the cold ground. your wide eyes couldn't leave the gruesome sight, just as your whole body froze on the spot you're standing on.

but when the killer was about to turn around and see you, a witness to his heinous crimes, the freeze spell casted to your body breaks and you dashed off into a different direction, almost tripping on your wobbly legs.

you were able to get away. but that's because the killer let you ran off. you weren't fast enough to escape his vision. he caught you running away, presumably because of what you just saw. but for some reason, he didn't chase after you. he just stood there with his back facing the mangled corpse he was just toying with earlier.

it would be a lie to say if you continued living normally after that night passed. you couldn't get rid off the image of the horrified expression plastered on the victim's face as they stared at you with their lifeless eyes. it frequently appears in your slumber, turning your dreams instantly into a nightmare, keeping you awake for the rest of the night.

it came to a point where you don't even want to go to bed, fearing the scene will replay again once more in your sleep. you know to yourself that you can't continue living like this. you needed to do something.

just like how every artists paint their ideas into their canvas, you thought that if you paint that haunting memory, it will finally stop latching onto your brain like a living parasite. you would finally be able to rest.

day and night, you never stop painting, cooped up inside your little studio. the only sounds you could hear are your own breath and every stroke of your paint brush. because of how focused you are, you never realized the set of killer eyes watching you.

ever since that night, soft yandere killer have been stalking you. memorizing your routine. when he saw what you were painting, he was struck with amazement at how detailed your art is. it was even more special to his heart because it was the very night that he first saw you. the first meeting you two had inside his delusional mind. he thought you admired him, just as he's now admiring you in your natural place.

when you finally finished creating this horrible piece of art, you thought that your painting of him would stop there. it didn't. that scene still never left your head, so you continued, painting them in different ways, as if you're trying to appease a god that is dissatisfied with your offering. each painting you make, it becomes more and further disoriented from the original piece.

you started painting the killer in different situations, all in which are him murdering other people with different creative weapons. soon enough, your room is filled with his heavy presence despite him not being actually there, suffocating you.

and upon seeing the many paintings of him, soft yandere killer completely misunderstood the intentions behind your ongoing spiral to madness. you love him just as much as he loves you. and to honor the love that you're pouring into every hard work that you're putting in each masterpiece, the obsessed killer took it as a challenge to recreate every painting into his next murders to prove how much he loves you.

you two are beyond obsessed with each other. just not in the same way he thought you were.

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (20) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: the ton learns of how its king adores the queen.

word count: 1,992

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: implied smut, fluff, pet name (petal), not proofread

When you first learned of Coryo’s intent to marry you, you had expected a life as Queen would be spent focusing on building a robust social life—planning and attending balls, organizing dinners, entertaining the rest of the ton, overseeing the social season. In your downtime, you would read in the library or stroll the gardens. Forever stuck in a loveless, unsatisfying marriage. Coryo, however, defied your expectations at every turn. Not only was his love true, but he wanted you to rule by his side. He didn’t wish for you to be a mere figurehead—he wanted you to be Queen in every sense of the word. 

You quite liked it, if you were honest. You liked sitting at the desk with him, flitting through papers, sorting out the important needs of Panem. You liked being able to tell him your thoughts and know that they were being heard. You had heard too many horrible stories of men belittling their wives, thinking themselves better when they received the very same education. There men in this Capitol that got off on treating their wives as second-class citizens. You were forever grateful that your Coryo was not one such man. 

And, of course, you and Coryo got up to plenty of revelry in that very office. 

Coryo pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he helped you back into your dress. Though it would be easier to merely push up your skirts and settle between your legs, Coryo insisted on seeing all of you. You were his beautiful wife, he’d say, and he would never deprive himself of admiring such grand beauty. 

“We need to add social engagements to our calendar,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair. He nipped at your neck. 

“I prefer monopolizing your time. Those people do not deserve you in all your brilliance.”

“We rule those people, and we should try to remain in their good graces,” you countered. Coryo conceded by placing a kiss against the same spot he bit. “Just a few balls, perhaps a luncheon or two with the Electors and their families.”

“Very well. Let me know which ones you have a preference toward, and I shall make the arrangements.”

It was ordinarily the woman’s work to deal with social engagements. A smile tugged at your lips. For Coryo to so easily take on the task, without you even indicating for him to do so, warmed your heart. How did you ever get so lucky? How did you ever think poorly of him? “My mother is throwing a ball this week. I suppose we should attend, at least to keep up appearances with my family,” you said with a roll of the eyes. “The ton would not take kindly to a woman who forsakes her family for the Crown. They would spread rumors that I am a power-hungry wench, intent on making you my little puppet.”

Coryo barked out a laugh. “If only they knew how much power you hold.”

“Oh yes, I do quite well at tugging at your strings.”

“You may tug on them for however long you like.”

Though your dress had just been pulled back on, it soon found itself pooled on the floor moments later.

Thought it had been your suggestion, you dreaded the idea of returning to your family’s home—if you could call it that anymore. After having been away from them for the last month, you came to realize you were scarcely more than a pawn to them. If your father wanted you to be well-cared for, he could have allowed Coryo to court you when he came into money again. The Snow family was not a family known to squander their wealth. Had it not been for the war, they still would have been living off of their fortune for generations to come. And your mother…The way she pushed you to act like someone you were not in hopes that it further along Coryo’s proposal…It just made you sick. You once thought that they cared for you, in their own strange ways, but now you weren’t for certain. 

Coryo watched as your lady’s maid pinned back your hair in preparation for your mother’s ball. You were tempted to tell her to stop, that you would no longer be attending, but you also wished to show them, show the entire ton, that you had their King wrapped around your finger. For every thing that they chastised you for, Coryo loved. Nay, he adored. You were certain there was very little you could do that would be wrong in his eyes. 

“You are exquisite,” he said, coming to your side as your lady’s maid stepped away from her elaborate creation. He leaned down, pressed a kiss at the junction where your shoulder met your neck. “The ton will have never seen a more beautiful Queen.”

“You shouldn’t let me stray far from your side then,” you teased as you rose from your seat. You turned so you faced your husband and looped your arms around his shoulders. “The ton can so easily devolve into animals when they see something shiny and new.”

“Oh, trust, my petal, I do not intend for you to ever leave my side.” Coryo kissed your forehead. “I already nearly lost you once when I was least expecting it. I won’t allow it to happen again.”

Your heart clenched. It had been so long since Sejanus was mentioned. You nearly forgot about him entirely. For him to have been so close to both you and Coryo, it didn’t feel so strange for him to not be around anymore. What would have happened if he didn’t come to convince you to run away with him? Would you all still be close? Or would he have still tried? 

You hoped Sejanus fared well with the Peacekeepers. Despite what he attempted, the friend he was willing to hurt, Sejanus was a kind and gentle man. Coryo had told you little about his time in service with the Peacekeepers, but you knew enough to be certain that Sejanus would emerge a changed man. You only wished that he was still kind. 

“And you should not worry about such a thing,” you said. “I am yours just as you are mine.”

Coryo hummed, and pulled you in for another kiss. You let him, letting your worries melt away. 

The worries did not stay away for long, unfortunately. As your carriage rolled up to your parent’s home, your heart thump’d, thump’d, thump’d in your chest. You hated having to let go of Coryo when the carriage came to a stop. At least it didn’t last long, for Coryo soon was helping you out and your hands were reconnected. 

Like when you arrived at the palace, Coryo let you take the lead. But, unlike at the palace, those who bore witness to this soon began to whisper. You expected as much. The tradition of the no one walking ahead of the King was one long upheld. No one ever dreamed of stepping into his path. You swallowed, lifted your head high and squared your shoulders. This was going to be a long, arduous night, but you were not going to let the gossip of the ton ruin your evening. 

Your mother’s eyes were on you the second you stepped foot in the ballroom. You took a breath and turned away from her gaze. Coryo stepped beside you and took your hand. “Come,” he said, “let’s take a turn about the room.”

You nodded. 

Her eyes never left you, though. You moved your hand to hold onto Coryo’s arm, hoping for him to steady you. He looked at you curiously, but said nothing. At least you were distracted by the ton as they flitted around you and your husband. They were so eager for the approval of the King and Queen. It was almost laughable. 

Finally, though, you couldn’t take it anymore as your father joined your mother’s side. 

“We should go say something,” you whispered to Coryo as another young lady sunk into a low curtsy in front of you. “Appearances and all that.”

“Are you certain? I believe we will be quite fine if we continue to ignore them.”

You stifled a laugh. “Perhaps. Think of it this way, though—if we speak to them now, we can ignore them the rest of the ball.”

“Very well. Lead the way, petal.”

Your heart thump’d harder as you crossed the room to your parents. You didn’t have the first clue what you were going to say to them. What they would say to you. They had enough tact, you were sure, to not incite an outright fight with the King and Queen. But they had enough audacity to insult their daughter. They did it as easily as breathing.

“Mama, Papa,” you greeted when you reached them. Neither dropped into a bow or curtsy. Your lip curled at the disrespect. It did not matter that you were their daughter—there was still social etiquette to be followed. “The ball has been lovely so far.”

If they were going to stoop so low, you would not meet them at their level.

“It could be lovelier if there wasn’t so much…whispering among the ton,” your mother said. 

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Coryo’s hands clenched and unclenched. You gave his arm a squeeze, but that did not stop him from saying, “The ton is full of idle gossip. It always has been.”

The warning in his tone did not stop your mother from continuing it, “Still, it is improper for a wife to lead the King.”

You ground your teeth together. Is that all you were to her now? A wife to the King? Oh, if only she knew the true influence you had. If only she knew how highly your Coryo regarded you. She may be trapped in a loveless marriage—and you would forever pity her for that—but that did not mean she could dismiss your marriage so easily. 

“Queen,” Coryo corrected. “Lesser kings have killed for lesser slights against their queens. I would tread carefully if I were you.”

Your father looked between your mother and Coryo. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, he tried, “What my wife means to say is, we would hate for the Crown to be ruined by such silly gossip.”

“The Crown could not be ruined by such things,” Coryo dismissed with a wave of his hand. “What would damage the sanctity of the Crown is to allow such disrespect to go by unchecked.”

“Of course,” your father said. “We did not mean to—”

“I am tired of this conversation,” you announced. You turned into Coryo and smiled up at him. “Would you like to dance?”

Your mother guffawed. “Women do not ask—”

“Whatever you wish, my Queen,” Coryo said. He kissed you softly, snorting a laugh as your mother continued to blubber in the background. “I would dance with you forever if you should ask for it.”

Coryo led you out to the middle of the dance floor, ignoring your mother’s antics and prying eyes of the ton. He took one hand in his, letting the other settle on your waist. Your free hand came  to rest on his shoulder and the band began to play. As he twirled you around the room, everyone seemed to melt away.

Good. The ton could spread rumors and stories all they like. Your parents could look down on you if they so pleased. But none of that would change the fact that your Coryo looked at you like you were the most brilliant diamond ever mined. None of that would change the fact that, in a society where loveless marriages were commonplace, you found the very thing you dreamed of since you were a girl. 

“I love you, my King,” you said. 

“And I you, my Queen.”

[nuumbie]

KARMA’S A DOG.

Prompt: You’re a prized worker at the IPC Marketing Department. You spend your days waiting for that flash of black.

Trigger Warning: Reader is mentally ill and a little shit head. Curse Words. General Violent Terms and Reader Gets Ragdolled. Boothill is NOT into you!!! He actually hates you! Guilt! Etc, etc… it’s just all hurt no comfort.

Author’s Note: Written to celebrate his trailer. Save a horse. Ride a cowboy. Contains spoilers regarding his character story.

He’s resting peacefully. This should still count as sleep. You pose the question in your head if you replace the pieces of something, how far until the thing is something else entirely. But he’s still alive. You find relish in that.

He still has his head. Maybe, that’s all he has. You wonder how the surgery must have gone. Of course you’ve met people who’ve changed themselves so drastically with robotics that you couldn’t recognize them after the surgeries. It’s a rebirth in ways. When you change so dramatically that you’re a different person by the end. His body’s 90% metal. 10% flesh. So, wouldn’t it be the cybernetics that win?

Despite everything. You don’t think so. Perhaps, that’s all that he needs. I think therefore I am. There’s no doubt he’s alive. Not to you, anyway. He’s brimming with human life. He’s more alive than you. Not in the same way where the question poses in your mind with other beings, or creatures, Boothill is obstinately simple.

You like that. He’s simple. The Hunt is straight forward. A single path. A single road. You like that you don’t have to read his intentions. You know what he wants and why.

Boothill. Galaxy Ranger. IPC Hunter. The Man who just tried to sneak into your office and put a bullet through your head like he has with many of your employees, those who’ve worked directly under you no less. You know. Most criminals don’t get this far. Not far at all past Pier Point. Oswaldo will have a riot.

If he knew he would. You’re not going to tell him.

Boothill is special.

The cowboy opens his eyes. Your personal grim reaper.

“I see you’re awake.” You smile in a loving way. If you can even manage that. People who can control their expressions make it seem so easy. Laying across his chest. You’ve opened up his core to play with his inner circuits. He must not like that, though considering there’s a burning hatred in his eyes which threatens to scorch you. You glance up towards his face and sigh and ignoring the lingering, simmering, resentment. His body is heating up beneath your touch. So, maybe it resonates with his feelings, you wonder if his body steams. “We need to stop meeting like this. You’re going to make me think you’re obsessed with me.”

It’s the opposite way around. You know that. But the very idea that it isn’t causes him to lunge at you. The cowboy turns into nothing more than a blur, all the wires connected to the body collecting samples that took at least a good thirty minutes pulled from him. Some ripped from the walls, and in instants he’s on you.

“You dang—“ his hands make its way to your shoulders, you’re flipped without hesitation. his hands grasping you down, he lays on top of you. breath heavy. robots don’t breathe, though, so you try to think of another word as he catches himself and tries to make it so he’s the one on top. “— you again!?”

“I’ve been meaning to get my hands on you… you oughta’… you ANGEL!” He screeches. Music to your ears as he shakes you more like you’re more ragdoll than person. “AEONS, it’s so freaking annoying! You absolute delight! How did I lose to…”

“Thank you so much for the compliment.” You smile back. Probably the only one getting anything out of this arrangement. Pinned against the floor hand pressed tightly against your waist so you can’t struggle. He should’ve pressed it against your mouth. But it isn’t like you’re going to scream. You’re certain. Lots of women would love to be in this position you’re currently in. But it’s you. And this is far from some sweet, pure, little romantic story. You’re not delusional. Though, you act like you are purely because it annoys him. It’s good for him to build up his rage, his contentment, good. “I was just looking over your upgrades since the last time you invaded Pier Point. As for asking how I beat you~…”

“The electronic upgrade was not the best idea.” You smile. “If we can control your language, your body isn’t hard especially for a renowned genius like me. Have to talk to your doctor about that. You’re lucky I’m the one that found you. Where’s my thanks?”

“Aeons, of COURSE you Market-Phonies have something to annoy the DANGNATION out of me.” he grinds his teeth, looking around for his pistol. making a point about how dead he wants you. you can feel his grip loosen and tighten. he’s likely processing which one would get you to be quieter. “Where’d you put it? My gun. I’ve decided. I’m killing you now. Puttin’ ya out of your misery, sweet-face! You think this is rough? Think of a 9mm lead in your skull will be?”

“Cabinet.” You put on your best smile. “For me?”

“Of course for you. Love you.” You didn’t take away his ability to say hate. So, he must have said something like screw. Or maybe it’s a replacement for something else? You just know it’s bad. “You knew this was coming. I’m not going to miss my shot again. You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

You did know it was coming. You wished he would get the one person above you first so you could witness your boss with his brains blown out, the outcries that an Emanator of Qlipoth killed. You could have gotten wine with Diamond and laughed about it and died happy knowing the world was washed clean forever of Oswaldo Schneider.

But you can’t be so lucky. You’ll have to wish him luck. If he actually manages to kill you that is — you’re not making it hard.

He grabs you by the neck so you can’t struggle away to call help. The iron hands encased over your neck like a shackle isn’t a bad feeling. You almost quote as such so he might grab you a little tighter. Sadly, it seems his finger is directly over your windpipe— making talking an impossibility. He really doesn’t want you to run. Not like you would. Dragging you as he goes towards the cabinet. He presses you against the wall one-handed.

Using his other hand to peruse through your belongings. Even if you struggled. You doubt you could make a dent against the material. You’ve always been more of a pen instead of a sword guy.

It seems he’s smarter than you thought. Since, he checks the bullets in the gun. Rather show-offishly, too. He clicks the trigger against your head and nothing comes out. He counts them out, too. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

You already knew that none of the shots would ring. But here’s a certain heart-pounding feeling even if you know it’s empty. He clutches the gun even tighter.

Obviously, you’ve cleaned them out. He glares at you. Of course you’re the one at fault. Of course you were smart enough to know the first thing he’d do when he woke up was try to kill you. Of course you wanted to see the look on his face when he got his gun back when he realized it was empty. “Don’t you have spares? You eat them, don’t you? Just shit them out.” You smile. It’s hard to talk.

The floor hits you. Hard. Or maybe you hit the floor? Either way. It hurts. Your head spins. But, you collect yourself. Maybe. Dizzy people often can’t tell they’re dizzy. “You going to kill me right? You don’t need a gun to do that. To make it painful. To get your little revenge.” You’re sputtering. Aeons. It be embarrassing if you didn’t say that. If you’re slurring. Though who are you to ask for a clean death?

“I don’t get you.” Boothil’s boot presses against your chest— “make up your mind, you wanna die or not? You’re seriously flip-flopping.”

You smile back at him from the floor. “I’d rather my employees not go down with me when you’ve got to escape. Jeremy just got a promotion. You won’t die here, will you space cowboy? So, you’ll have to make your way out.”

“Might as well limit the casualties.”

“You took everything from me.” Robots don’t stumble over their words. Robots don’t hold grudges. People do. People live for others. “What right do you have? You have way more blood on your hands than I do.”

“You’re not wrong.” you repeat, quietly. “It’s karma. It’s justice. I’m so happy you exist.”

“I could never ever dream of it. I could never.” You smile. “So I’m glad that you did. Thank you.”

He looks down at you.

He steps back. You already know. Too self-aware for your own good.

Maybe you should have shut up. You already know you’ve messed it all up. The way he looks at you.

“Everyone here’s so fluffed up.” he grimaces. rubbing his shoe against the floor. “Anyone the IPC touches get’s gosh-dang ruined.”

You know why he did. You ruined his life. You did. So, it was only fair he did the same in return—

Reaching out— before you realize it. “Hey, wait.”

“You’re not dragging me down with you! I want you to pay I’m not letting you off easy. When we meet again. I’ll have changed this place forever. And you’ll be forced to live with yourself.”

He doesn’t even look at you.

He lets you go and he runs out the door. You hear the sounds of loud screams. Shooting guns. It turns into a blur after a few seconds. They’re going to fail to apprehend him. You hope.

On the messy floor. Your lab a wreak. You’re sure. They’ll come here. They’ll question you.

You’ll lie. Jade can tell. But she won’t tell on you.

“Fuck you, too.”

You put your hands over your eyes and you just ignore everything until someone comes and gets you.

You’ll meet him again. You can wait. It’s all you ever do.

[azurlily]

Guess whose not dead?!

(This is an actual post with a character, just scroll down to the pink bow if you don't want to read this.)

I was in and out of the hospital for a long time. I'm sorry I haven't been writing, but I'm doing so much better. I've closed requests so I can catch up on the ones I currently need to do.

I also wanted to mention some of the newer works(that AREN'T being requested) that I plan to make will probably be either smut or darker stuff. It's a way for me to cope and I enjoy writing altogether.

Yandere!CEO x Fem!Reader

Morena(yan!ceo) x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're a young woman working in the tech industry, you know people(mostly men) don't take you seriously. Due to the constant stress of needing to be better (just to be considered good) you are constantly anxious and jittery, you've also developed a depressive mindset and you consistently struggle with taking your medication.

You just got a new job by a large, female owned, tech company! You thought you'd feel better and you wouldn't have to deal with a toxic environment. You were dead wrong; your boss is a bitch and expects constant perfection and no less. You were just barely able to make it under her radar, until she starts going through files- and you find yourself in her office with a deal you just aren't allowed to refuse.

Not like you can refuse a demon after all?

TW: Non-consensual kissing and physical touch, somewhat mentions future kidnapping.

The reader is kissed(while under a spell that takes away will-power from their body) and is forced to sign a contract against their wishes.

You stand quietly, with your hands in front of you- clasped together so tightly you'd think you were about to get in your knees and pray. But no, instead you were ready to beg to not be fired.

That's what this was right? You were getting fired and your horrible, asshole, bitch-faced boss wanted to say it to your face. You could cry, you almost did on the way here.

Yet as much as you wish you weren't in this situation, as much as you wish you could repent for whatever you did; you genuinely have no idea why you've been called here. You've never gotten a write up, all your reports are clean and bug free, and you work well with seemingly everyone.

You stand face forward, staring at the woman who decides wether you get to eat for the next month. The same woman who while you hate her, you can't -no you won't- deny her beauty. You-

"Hello?! Do you hear me or are you too busy pissing yourself to pay attention?"

You look down, wondering if you genuinely did pee yourself, only to see dry pants and floor. You look back up at her and she gives you the look of someone who both wants to laugh and yell(not in the good way).

You wondered if there was something who had tried to sue her for how rude she was. I'm sure there could be some sort of case, as long as there was proof. Hell, even witnesses would do.

"Sorry, ma'am. What exactly is it you called me for? Has my team done something wrong, did we miss some meeting, or did-"

She stands up, slamming her hand on the desk so loudly it echoes. You nearly jump out of your skin- was she going to hit you?!

"Be quiet. I can't handle you prattling on like a cow. I'm not firing you, nor am I firing anyone on your team. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Oh and please- call me Miss Morena. Thank you."

Oh she is definitely a condescending bitch.

You thought for a moment, 'quite the opposite'. So you aren't getting fired, hell you may be getting a raise! Maybe Morena wasn't so bad of a boss. Maybe she just likes hard workers.

"Thank you, ma- Miss Morena. If I may ask: does this mean I'm getting a promotion?"

Morena smiles, not the smile you give someone when they're right about something. The smile you give when you're a fox, and you've just cornered the bunny you've been trying to catch.

"Yes, a promotion of sorts. I actually have a contract for you, but I can give you the gist and read the rest to you later."

Morena pulls an inch thick stack of papers from the desk. She sets them aside with a pen and slowly steps out from the desk. Morena signals you to come closer, but you only take a few steps forward. You could practically feel how badly this situation was going to go.

As Morena got closer, you began to feel more compelled to make eye contact with her. Like someone was whispering into the back of you mind, telling you to look up. To look into the beautiful blue eyes that Miss Morena holds. To never look away; keep your eyes on hers.

Don't look away from me. I always get what I want and that isn't changing anytime soon, little rabbit.

"Well I've been looking over employee information and I noticed you moved from very, very many jobs before you got to this one. Never staying in one place. I never really liked people like that, and from what I've seen, people like that have done the same with my company. Now I hope -very strong word here- that someone with skills like yours wouldn't do something to this company. I hope that you'd stay, willingly of course. You would stay willingly, right?"

Of course you would, you never had any interest in leaving. You planned to stay past the one year mark, past the time where everyone would get raises in order to ensure you were getting a that this place was a good opportunity. You loved it here, you loved you teammates, your boss, you loved the office building itself.

"Of course I'm staying, Miss Morena. I would never leave."

The words coming out of your mouth felt robotic, they felt like you were lying to yourself and others. Like you were in your body, but you weren't the one speaking.

"Good girl, now go over to my desk and sign you name on all of those papers. Don't read them, you don't need to. You can put all your trust in me."

You did exactly as you were told, you signed every paper with you signature. You didn't even think, your body was moving like second nature. You had this warm feeling in your gut, this safe and controlled feeling. You like feeling like this- don't you?

You hear some shuffling behind you and yet you can't turn around to see what's going on. You only hear a voice.

"You know while your under I guess I can explain. You can't really yell at me or try to run away, so I can speak my peace. You're going to be the newest human I suck the life out of! But hey, for the next few months you'll get to live lavishly and without fear of anything. Other than me of course!"

Your brain registered what she was saying, but you couldn't respond. What were you doing to do? What could you do?

"Come here bunny."

You turn around and walk straight into Morena's arms. She gently grabs your face, you just noticed three of her fingers on her left hand have been filed down. Meanwhile the nails on her right hand, as well as her pinky and thumb on her left, are long and colorful.

Morena pulls you closer to her, her lips ghosting over your mouth. You feel her press her lips to yours and you get an overwhelming feeling of disgust wash over you. You feel nothing but utterly dirty as she kisses you, you feel like someone's just stabbed you and is trying to clean the wound to make themselves feel better about the act.

Your eyes are wide open the entire time, so you watch Morena go from kissing you deeply to pulling back in what looks to be shock. Her pupils dilate slowly, her eyes relaxing and you see nothing but black take over.

"Oh...oh you're much too sweet to kill."

Morena gently moves you head to the side pressing her tounge against your neck. You feel her shiver and watch as she pulls back with a dark smile on her face.

"I take back what I said about you enjoying these next couple of months. . . You'll get to enjoy such pleasures for the rest of your life. With me."

You let your body process her words this time, you don't know how to react. Instead you feel your eyes wet themselves, your expression hadn't even changed. And yet, you were crying. Morena notices almost immediately and you watch her face distort itself into a disdainful look of annoyance, until it twists into one of sadistic pity.

"Oh, shh, bunny. Hush now, stop those tears. I'll take the spell down once were home, in my home you wont be able to run away. So you can have a tantrum all you want there. I know you don't like me right now, you maybe even hate me, but give it some time. You'll realise you need someone, and I'm the best you'll be getting for the rest of your pathetic human life."

Everything goes black after that.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Reckoner: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Your world is turned upside down when you get in trouble for something you didn't even do. The entire team is in uproar over this but Hotch says he will take care of it. Can he? Or are you doomed to live out the rest of your days in misery?

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

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

Thankfully, the team has the current case to keep them occupied so they don't think about you, but Spencer doesn't have that outlet. He's stuck in Penelope's office forced to think about you, what you might be going through, how you must be feeling, and how he can't do anything about it. He's bouncing his leg up and down rapidly because his anxiety is spiking. He would bite his nails if they hadn't already been bitten down to the nub.

"Spence, why don't you take a walk? I'm sure it'll do good to clear your head," Penelope suggests.

"No, thanks."

She sighs and turns back to the computer screens before calling Rossi. She's been working hard on her end to try and figure out who The Planner is.

"What do you have?" Rossi answers.

"I've concentrated on the last three cases because they left the freshest e-prints. However, over a hundred thousand cases pass through the Long Island Court."

"Who had eyes on the files?"

"Literally hundreds of people."

"Change track. Focus on The Enforcer. Look at mob-related murder trials on Long Island over the last ten years. We're looking for a hitman."

Penelope types quickly and comes up with a shorter list, albeit still long.

"There are over ninety-three mob trials in the last ten years."

"Put aside any trials that resulted in a conviction. Weed out mistrials and arraignments."

"Nineteen."

"Were any of those on trial suspected of being hitmen or enforcers?"

"Three, but I got something else here. Tony Mecacci's case was judged a mistrial but check out his suspected victim."

She sends over the file immediately so they can look it over. His victims are the same as the team's current victims. All were shot in the same style as the ones on the file.

".22 caliber, right?"

"Bulls-eye."

"Cross-match our profile of The Planner against all those connected with this trial."

Penelope continues to type as she speaks.

"Let's see here. We have prosecuting lawyer Garret Daniels, Judge Boyd Schuller, criminal defense lawyer Paul--"

"Wait, did you say Judge Shuller?" Rossi cuts her off.

"Yeah, I'm sending over a photo."

Rossi waits for the photo to come through so he can confirm whether or not he knows this person. He does.

"What's wrong?" Hotch asks. "Do you know him?"

"No, but I knew his wife. Two years ago, she was driving home from work and was killed by a drunk driver."

"That could be the tragedy."

"She was the love of his life, that's for sure."

Penelope digs into the Judge's life to see what kind of dirty secrets he has.

"Twelve months ago, Judge Shuller took a leave of absence due to health issues. He was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He has six months to live. That's when the killings started."

"You don't seriously think Judge--"

"Judge Schuller is the planner. Yes, I do," Rossi cuts off the detective. "It fits the profile, and Tony Mecacci is most likely Bosola the Enforcer. What have you got on Bosola?"

"He went off the grid after his last trial," Penelope answers.

"JJ put out a statewide APB and release Mecacci's photo to the media," Hotch orders, and she leaves to do it.

"Judge Schuller's a highly-respected man. We can't just walk in there and accuse him of serial murder."

"Then I'll go to the attorney general and petition the Chief Justice if I have to."

Rossi looks behind Hotch to see Judge Schuller walk right into the police station as if he knew the team was talking about him.

"Maybe not."

"I believe you're looking for me," the Judge says.

Judge Schuller is taken to an interrogation room to be questioned by Rossi and Derek.

"You know we have to advise you of your rights," Derek says and sits across from him.

"I waive my constitutional rights against self-incrimination."

"When you walked in here, you said, 'I believe you're looking for me'."

"Yes."

"Your timing was impeccable, but how could you know that?"

"I knew it wouldn't take you long to find me. Not after what I've left behind."

"So, you don't deny any of this?" Derek asks.

"Why would I? What you see as a crime, I see as justice."

"Ray Finnegan was a friend of mine," Rossi glares.

"Ray Finnegan was a criminal. You should choose your friends more wisely."

"It must have really thrown you when Ray showed up at Emma's funeral."

This pisses Judge Schuller off, and he slams his hands angrily onto the table.

"How do you know about my wife?"

"You have absolutely no idea who I am, do you?"

Ray told Rossi that everyone only meets Bosola once. That means Judge Schuller had to have given Bosola a list of names. He would never have to meet him again, just to make final payments on proof of death which he can send electronically. If anyone can get into Schuller's personal files and financial record, it would be Penelope. She has to do it quickly before everything gets shut down.

Detective Gill made a call to Schuller's office a few hours ago and told them they had two suspects, which means he knows what the police know. Schuller knows the FBI is onto him, which means he didn't come here for a confession. He has a list, and there is more to come.

He came here to stall.

"Can we just get on with what I came here for?" Judge Schuller sighs.

"Why? So Bosola can go on and carry on whatever it is you asked him to do? No. You call him and you end this," Derek says.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't."

"She was born Emma Louise Taylor on the 4th of July, 1958," Rossi reminisces.

"You could get that from anywhere," Schuller glares at Rossi.

"When she was six, her dad bought her a black and white homeless kitten."

"No, if she knew you, she would have told me."

"She named it Oscar," Rossi continues, "after Oscar Wilde. Out of all of Oscar's work, she loved an ideal husband the most."

The judge is getting angrier by the minute the longer Rossi talks about his wife.

"I don't know how you know all of this about Emma or what you hope to achieve, but we're done. You know the charges. Charge me."

"Is that what started all this insanity? Emma's death?"

"What started all of this was the thirty-five years I had to sit and watch as the system I swore an oath to protect failed the very people our justice system was meant to protect!"

"I wonder what Emma would make of all this."

"Every single person on that list deserves justice, and it's justice they managed to evade," Schuller shouts.

"So, you do have a list?" Rossi smirks.

"I'm finished talking."

Rossi and Derek continue to work over Judge Schuller while Emily is in another room talking to Penelope over video chat. Spencer isn't in the room because she managed to convince him to take a lap or two around the building to clear his head or try to.

"Hey, where's Spence? How is he doing?" Emily asks when she notices the lack of Spencer's presence.

"He's not doing too good. He doesn't have the hands-on work like you guys have to keep him distracted. It's killing him knowing Y/N's in jail for something she didn't do."

"Yeah, I know. It's hard on us, too. We don't talk about it but I know we're all thinking about it. Hotch will fix it once we're back, I know it."

"Yeah, me too."

"So, what did you find out about Judge Schuller?"

"We've got loads of two-way traffic going on, which means someone is trying to bounce us out."

"Okay, Bosola doesn't come cheap, so Judge Schuller had to have made some pretty substantial transactions."

"I've got wire transfers to a Cayman Island bank, and that's where the trace ends."

"How many and how much?"

"In June, he debits numerations of nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-nine dollars every few days four separate times. Then, he takes a break for a few weeks until he makes his final transaction for the same magic number. Anything less than ten thousand dollars keeps the IRS off your trail."

"So, the final payment must be for proof of death. That makes fifty-thousand dollars the price of a kill."

"He did that three times over a period of twelve months, but two days ago, he raised his account for a hundred thousand dollars all in one hit. He also closed all his accounts and handed his entire estate over to a victim's support group." Penelope gasps in shock and groans in frustration. "Someone who isn't suffering from too many brainiacs in the high-tech kitchen just bounced us out."

"Good job," Emily praises and hangs up. She returns to Hotch to tell him her findings. "If our calculations are correct, there are two more names on that list."

"There are."

Hotch replays the footage from the interrogation from when Emily was on the phone with Penelope.

"Every single person on that list deserves justice," Judge Schuller says and looks at his watch yet again.

"He said deserves, not deserved. Look right there. He looks at his watch for the second time. Whatever he's waiting for is about to happen."

"I don't think you knew Emma at all," Rossi continues to antagonize him. "At least not the one I knew. I made an excuse for myself that I wouldn't be welcome at her funeral. The truth is, I couldn't face it."

"You knowing Emma changes nothing."

"Oh, but it does. Emma changed the lives of everyone she knew, but at least Ray and I saw her death for what it truly was--a tragic accident."

"Dan Patton was drunk. He murdered Emma as surely as if he put a gun to her head!" Judge Schuller yells.

"Is that why his photo's not here? You're saving the best for last? How many other people have you targeted? I want the truth."

"I have nothing more to say."

"I do. I ran into Emma a few years ago at a hotel in Manhattan. I was working on a case and so was she. I knew she was married, but I didn't care."

Judge Schuller knows what Rossi is implying and he refuses to accept that his wife was cheating on him.

"No, she wouldn't... Emma would not do that to me. You're lying."

"Am I?"

"I want the truth."

"You first."

The Judge sighs knowing he's cornered and decides to give it up.

"Dan Patton is the last one. There are no more. Now, tell me the truth."

"That night in Manhattan, she told me our connection was so strong that it could never happen only once, and I was fine with that."

Rossi leaves with a smirk on his face, and the judge is shocked. He shakes his head and looks at Derek who is still seated.

"At least you now know what kind of man you're working with."

"What kind of man are you?"

"I've had enough of seeing the guilty walk free of their sins."

"What about your sins?"

"I got cancer for mine."

Emily, Hotch, and Detective Gil went to Dan's apartment after checking the police department he works for. Turns out Bosola got to him before the FBI could. They found him with two bullet holes, one in the heart and one in the head, but also beaten to death. Bosola is nowhere to be found because he killed him and left immediately after like a professional hitman.

There's no way Bosola is getting off Long Island since the FBI has all ports, roads, and airports guarded to make sure he doesn't get away. Judge Schuller is being moved somewhere safer because he is a high-court judge, which makes this a federal case now. The FBI is taking over this one before more people get killed. If Dan is dead, then the judge's list is complete.

However, something isn't adding up.

The Judge gave away his entire estate and all his money, and he closed out his accounts and paid off his utility bills. He has cancer but he has six months left to live. Why would he pay off his bills now and give away everything he owns? Not to mention the one hundred thousand dollar payment for not one but two more kills. If Dan was killed, then there should be one more.

Usually, the judge waits for confirmation of death before sending the payment, but he knew he wasn't going to be around to see this last proof of death. He sent everything over because he was not making it ten feet out of the police station.

Bosola has one more kill to make before moving on to another client, and it's Judge Schuller himself. With a crowd of reporters and a bunch of bystanders, it's easy for him to blend into the crowd. He managed to shoot Schuller in the heart and escape without anyone seeing him.

Case closed. With that major distraction out of the way, everyone is now focused on you and your situation. No one has said a word or talked about it since Hotch arrived in Long Island, but he's been making calls since getting on the plane to figure out what he can do to help you out.

The first person to get back to him is the lawyer that your dad snagged for you. He got ahold of his contact information and asked nicely to be let into the loop since he is your boss.

"Steven? Did you hear anything?" Everyone knows what Hotch is talking about so they stop what they're doing and listen to his side of the conversation. Hotch looks visibly upset which isn't a good sign. "Are you sure? ... There's nothing you can do for her? ... What about bail? ... Is there anything I can do? ... Okay. I appreciate you calling me. Thanks."

"What did he say?" Derek is the first to ask.

Hotch looks down and tries to keep the anger and frustration off his face as much as he can. When he feels he's neutral, he looks up and addresses the team.

"Y/N is being transferred to Virginia Correctional Center for Women in Goochland awaiting trial and bail. He said they have everything they need to convict her, and it's not looking good. Whoever did this really wants her to suffer for it."

Everyone is sent into silence because no one can believe this.

"I have always found that mercy bears richer fruit than strict justice." - Abraham Lincoln

x

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

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

sad alisa head canons

@lafallenange requested this earlier this week so here it is. they asked for either sad alisa hcs or alisanash hcs, but i already did the alisanash ones here so i'm doing the other one. i mentioned in another post that i would start making slightly shorter posts so that 1. i can get through them quicker and 2. i don't lose motivation very quickly so from now on they might not be as long (i don't know why i'm explaining this but for some reason i feel the need to). hope you like them <3.

like grayson, her coping mechanism is to overwork herself. she'll still be in her office at like 1am trying to finish her work crying bc she's so exhausted. when she was still with nash, he used to pick her up and bring them to her room which now saddens her when she thinks about it.

she's a huge nail biter. her nails and cuticles are usually red, dry, and bleeding.

she was diagnosed with clinical depression when she was younger and takes anti-depressants for it.

her mom died when she was young (just like avery) (i may have read that one in a fic). her dad was always working, and so, when she would be in need of comfort, she would sit down on the floor hugging herself, rocking back and forth (she does this bc when she was younger, her mom used to sit down on a rocking chair holding her and kissing her head when she was sad)

she always has scars on her palms from clenching her fists too tight and digging her nails into them when she gets mad at herself/anxious.

when she finds herself thinking about nash, she smashes her head against the wall to try to get him out of her head.

ever since her break up with nash, she's convinced she's unworthy of love. the one person who literally loves everyone couldn't love her (this is what she thinks) and that makes her hate herself

speaking of her break up, she's convinced she's the problem. she's always thinking back to the moment where they decided to end it trying to figure out what she could have done differently for him to have stayed with her.

she has ended up in the hospital before due to malnutrition. she gets so invested in her work she forgets to eat and ends up fainting.

one of the reasons why she's always overworking herself is bc, when she was younger, her father used to tell her she wasn't trying hard enough/wasn't good enough, etc, and, even after all of these years, she still feels the need to please him/prove him wrong.

she's also a very huge lip biter. whenever she gets anxious, she bites her lips until they bleed. nash used to kiss her to stop her, but, now that they're not together anymore, it gets really bad. so bad it hurts to talk bc her lips are so dry and stuff.

earlier i mentioned that alisa's mom died, just like avery's. i also think that alisa and avery are similar in some ways and i think that alisa would think so too. bc of this, she wants what's best for avery (bc she didn't) which is one of the reasons why she holes herself up in her office to work.

she didn't receive much affection growing up bc her mom died and her father was always working so she doesn't really know how to show people affection (she does try though).

i mentioned earlier that she was diagnosed with depression. when she was younger, it was so bad she wouldn't be able to get out of bed to do something like brushing her teeth. her father would get piss mad at her which made her feel even worse and wonder if he'd be better off without her.

over the years, she's become an expert at silent crying bc, when she was still a child living with her dad, he used to get somewhat annoyed when he heard her crying bc according to him he had 'better things to do'. he would take care of her and make sure she was okay, but alisa knew he didn't really want to be there. she decided it was best if she tried to hide her feelings.

she gets really surprised/doesn't really know what to do when people hug her bc she isn't used to it at all (receiving affection).

she refuses to see a therapist bc she thinks that working is a better way to spend her time. she would rather help avery and the others than help herself.

she's just like avery when she does this (although she doesn't know this obviously), but, to her, crying in the shower doesn't count as crying so thats where she now cries.

she doesn't really have friends bc she has no idea how to talk to people without sounding rude or too professional. she's very socially awkward when it comes to making friends and stuff, but she's very good in court.

alisa used to be very close with xander, jamie, and gray, but, ever since her break up with nash, she started distancing herself from them bc being around them sometimes reminds her that they could've been her brothers in law and it hurts her (@ariscats)

we don't really know much about alisa so i didn't have many ideas, but i still hope this was too your liking. thank you for reading <3.

[sciderman]

im so happy for you that you have a possible reason/cause for your brain itch!!!! i hope the tumor removal goes superduper smoothly. Do they know how long its been present/growing???????? how did you find out??? <- you obviously do not have to answer these personal medical questions lmao im just!!!! so curious and excited for you.

from what i've discussed with the docs it's been there for a LONG time... they say this sort of thing might take up to a decade to develop - it doesn't happen overnight!

i think i started noticing symptoms about maybe... 7 years ago? literally as soon as i started working full-time, maybe. my first job stressed me out so much and i cried underneath the tables at 8pm because i couldn't leave the office, i still had so much to do. i was leading up an entire ass animation department at 20 years old. bad. awful. that's when i started depending on things to get me through the day. my body started feeling awful. i thought it was anxiety, or me just being weak, i guess. i don't know if stress created the tumor, or the tumor created the stress - (well, it's the latter now) i think it's probably both, but all the research i've done and what the doctors have said is that there's just - some people with a genetic predisposition for it.

it's funny - i never miss a deadline, and i'm really really good at my job, always. i never let anyone down, ever, at the cost of my own sanity, and i seem to always, always have it put-together when i'm dealing with people - i have the constant consensus from everybody around me that i'm the most cheerful person to work with on this here planet earth - but apparently, my body was falling apart underneath it all - which i failed to recognise, because outwardly i was holding it together so well, and figured it was just normal to cry all the time when nobody was looking.

i started really noticing it after taking on a lot of freelance work on top of my day job – i was really doing very hot, and did these amazing projects for some really amazing clients who sought me out for being amazing (i am amazing) - but naturally, had consecutive nights of no sleep, and quick deadlines - and INVOICING... screams. and just, realised - after taking those jobs that - my heart did not stop pumping afterwards. my heart was still racing a mile a minute, even after all those jobs were done and dusted and ever-so-loved and appreciated by very happy clients. my heart. wouldn't. stop.

i figured it was MAJOR anxiety, and sought out some counselling sessions, hoping they'd help. i relayed my woes. i said i'm worried i'm not resting enough. i'm not sleeping enough. my heart rate won't go down. they said "oh. not everybody needs 8 hours sleep, don't worry about it. everyone's different." - for some reason that reassured me. i thought it was okay. okay. i don't need rest. maybe my body's just different and doesn't need rest. maybe that's why i wake up at 6am every morning without fail. i just don't need sleep, i guess. (bad advice.)

so – everyone is telling me i'm okay. i should just get on. you're barely sleeping? that's fine, you probably don't need it. your heart is pumping? that's healthy. your heart SHOULD pump, idiot. get back to work.

i felt very unhappy at work - i felt like i was stagnating - so i moved job, last year. i moved job to one that was so, so much more fast-paced. i thought the excitement and change would do me good - but i've been facing maybe - 3 deadlines a day? vs my previous one-deadline-a-month arrangement. and i think it broke me. i needed to depend on so many unhealthy habits to get me through the day. i needed like 6 energy drinks, 3 coffees, i'd have the shakes, i'd have the jitters, i'd feel like i was going to fall apart every single day.

and then, one day, i did.

one week last year i doubled over - my body was in so much pain that i couldn't sleep, i couldn't eat, and worst off - i couldn't work. it was the first time i'd taken sick leave - i couldn't function. after being on antibiotics that didn't work, i eventually went into the emergency room because i just couldn't sleep. i couldn't do anything. i didn't care if they put me down, i wanted the pain to end.

she was a kidney stone. her name was sharon (sharon stone) - i suspect it was all the energy drinks that made her. i've dealt with her now. but during the process, the doc pulled me aside, and he said "dear. do you have any pain in your other kidney?"

i said... no............... why?

doc said "ah. problem for another time."

so, once sharon was dealt with, obviously i had to chase up on that doctor's ominous warning. i said "WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY OTHER KIDNEY!!"

you have a tumor, dear. his name is lamar. he's on your right adrenal gland, and we suspect he's messing up all your hormones.

i did my own research, and turns out all these crazy, mysterious symptoms i've been having all line up - so i chased, and chased, and chased.

the doctors didn't take me seriously at first. because i guess i'm not in pain, and i handle it so well. i'm still so strong. i'm a fighter, i guess. whatever. but, turns out...

it's worth it to chase. your life might depend on it. i'm so glad i did, because there's an end to my suffering (dear god, i hope) - but, guys, if your heart won't slow, and you chronically can't relax, and you feel like there are bees in your brain - that's the time to do some research. it isn't normal, actually. and sure - it might not be a tumor, but - kid, you need some support. you need some help. you need to ask some questions. it's not okay for that to be your baseline. your body needs to rest. it needs to rest. even if i have to force it to. it has to rest.

right now i'm in a major stressed way, and i broke down and cried. i'm in the middle of a freelance job, and in the middle of an interviewing process for a new full-time job, and still working my current full-time job with 3 deadlines a day, and my surgery is next week. and i feel like crying. all the time.

i can't wait for rest. i hate that i literally have to be hospitalised to get it. but, i'll get it. i'm going to rest so fucking hard.

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

.

[savage-rhi]

I'm very much a, "fuck yeah and fuck you, I don't need validation! I'm me, cunts!" kinda fella, but sometimes I could use support.

[madigoround]

Something happened at work and I don’t even have the words to ramble about how upset I am about it I just feel so defeated and I don’t know what I can even do or why someone in a position of power would choose to do this to someone like as human beings

[fingertipsmp3]

I have an absolute perfect storm of a shift coming up in April and I can’t decide whether I should cancel it

[a-little-bit-poss]

.

[cinnabeat]

i have a love hate relationship with studying artists bc i dont like the fact that just bc theyre dead and long gone we can comb through every inch of their personal life just to get one step closer to discovering their intentions when creating a certain piece. but on the other hand you really cant effectively analyze art without understanding the context and more often than not the context includes extremely personal details you wouldnt tell anyone but your closest friends and family. i hate that theres this expectation that your art HAS to mean something personal to you otherwise theres no point to it. isnt it enough that you look at it and create your own meaning?