#Also I'm in a lot of pain right now so this was a fun distraction

[transmurderbug]

Picrew!! 😁 Thank you for tagging me, Willow! 💙 @ian-galagher I made EVERYTHING red. Only because I couldn't pass on the dino sweater... Plus I needed ALL the frogs 🐸

I actually (usually... sometimes) look much kinder, but this version of me can't help but space out (probably thinking of all the frogs and the dino sweater) and I always look villainous and confused when I do that 😆 I also could barely choose between The Lorax and Back to the Future, but John Powell's music decided for me (I'm also listening to the HTTYD soundtrack right now, so it was like a sign) 🎵

Tagging some awesome people, to have a couple of my frogs (only temporarily...) 🐸🥰 @juliakayyy @energievie @thisdivorce @sam-loves-seb @starcrossedsoulmates84 @sweetperversiongirl @francesrose3 @creepkinginc

[confused-pyramid]

There Is More When You Let Go | s2

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 18.8k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, kidnapping, torture, drug use, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 2x01, 2x05, 2x06, 2x13, 2x14, 2x15, 2x16, 2x18, 2x23

a/n: here's season 2 of the anchor series! I had a lot of fun writing this one (hence why it got so long lmao), and I included a lot more direct show content in this part, so I hope you like it. Also more flashbacks:) Title is from Benediction by Luke Sital-Singh

series masterlist

A gunshot. That's the last thing you hear before Elle's front door flies open, almost throwing you back onto the stairs. The shock of seeing the Fisher King standing right in front of you almost makes you miss the puddle of blood that has started seeping across the floor to your feet.

"Elle," you gasp, your moment of distraction enough time for the man to push you behind him and make a break for it. You fall forward with the force of his shove, but he's much slower than you are. If you ran after him now, you could almost certainly catch up to him, but the sight of Elle bleeding out in front of you makes you immobile.

Making the split second decision to abandon the chase, you throw yourself forward and press your hands against her wound to control the blood flow.

"You're gonna be okay," you tell her, even as her blood trickles out from below your palm. "I need to call for help."

Pressing one hand down harder, you try to ignore the sounds of her gasping in pain as you reach behind you for her house phone. After dialing 911, you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder and bring your hand back to apply more pressure.

The paramedics arrive within five minutes, and they pry you off of her as they pull out a defibrillator. You had been so focused on stopping her from bleeding out that you hadn't even noticed she had stopped breathing. How could you have missed that?

"Charging to 200."

You lean back against her couch as tears leak from the corners of your eyes.

"Clear!"

***

"They took her into surgery," you say when Hotch meets you at the hospital. Your eyes keep darting around, like you're looking for something, but you don't know what.

"What happened?" he asks, placing his hands on your shoulders to regain your focus. The pressure calms you down.

"I think he was waiting for her," you whisper, your throat tightening. "He had to have been. It all happened so fast."

His eyes stay on yours, as though trying to predict your next movement. "I'm glad you're okay."

More agents filter into the hospital and he begins to turn away to talk to them, but then you stiffen under his hands. "I had him, Hotch."

"What?" he frowns, looking at you again. "What are you talking about?"

You lift your hands to your face to brush away a strand of hair, barely noticing the stains all over your skin. "He was right there. The unsub. I could've grabbed him...but I didn't."

Anderson walks over with a question, but Hotch doesn't take his eyes off you. "You went to Elle. It's okay, you made the right choice."

"But the girl he took," you protest, shaking his hands off, "this could have lead us to her, but she's still-"

"You did the right thing," he cuts you off, waving Anderson away to speak with someone else. "It's not your fault."

You grit your teeth, your voice still tinged with guilt. "How do you know?"

"Because," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "it's mine. I sent her home."

You open your mouth to tell him how unfair that is, but he cuts you off with an order to go wash up before he leaves to explain the situation to the other agents.

The only bathroom on that floor of the hospital is at the end of the patient ward, so you trudge down the hallway and into the single family restroom, trying to avoid the worried glances from all around.

You haven't seen your reflection since before leaving with Elle, and you know it can't be a pretty sight, but the face staring back at you in the mirror is still a shock.

The bottom of your shirt is matted to your skin, and your hands are covered in now-dried blood that looks flaky and dark. When you look up, you see a streak of blood smeared over your nose from when you swiped at your face earlier.

Grabbing a fistful of paper towels, you run them under the faucet before scrubbing at your face and peeling your button down off to rid them of any trace of Elle's blood. When you're sure there isn't anything left, you turn the faucet back on and stretch your hands forward, watching the warm water turn a muddy red color as it swirls around the drain.

Eventually, the water runs clear, but you can still see the blood in your mind. You are suddenly ambushed by a memory you thought you had pushed down long ago. Red blood, cold skin.

How was there so much blood in the human body?

Your department-mandated therapist told you at the time that you would be in denial for the first few weeks, but you weren't denying anything. You had seen his body, seen the blood pooling around him as the coroner snapped photographs for the crime scene report. You knew he was dead. You just couldn't get that question out of your mind.

The memory shifts and suddenly you're seventeen again. You're seventeen and you are reaching for your first aid kit for the second time this month as Hotch sits on your bed with what feels like a permanent wince fused to his lips.

"Hold still," you whisper as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and press it into the cut on his hand. There's also blood under his nose and in his teeth, but he doesn't seem to notice.

He hisses as the alcohol makes contact, but he doesn't pull away. He's used to this routine now. You both are.

"I'm sorry I came by so late," he whispers through gritted teeth as he watches your fingers peel open a bandage. You want to berate him for apologizing, for feeling so much guilt all the time, but it's fruitless. It's like he was born with it inside of him, always clawing its way out at the slightest inconvenience.

"Don't be." You shoot him a look that he knows to mean 'be quiet and let me finish this'. He heeds your unspoken order, but after a few minutes, it's you who breaks it. "How did this one happen?"

He looks down and you immediately want to take it back. "You don't have to answer."

He's quiet for a beat. "He was drunk and I cleared his bottle away before he was finished with it."

Your lips thin and you press your hand to his knee, desperately needing to connect yourself to him in some manner.

"I tried to keep him in the kitchen, so Sean wouldn't hear, but I guess the noise woke him up." He takes a deep breath, and you can almost feel the determination entering his body as he sits up straighter. "I couldn't let him get to Sean, so I finally did it. I fought back."

He looks down at his bandaged hand then, and you can see pride accompanying the blood etched into the lines of his face. "I finally fought back."

Your eyes refocus and when you look at yourself in the mirror again, there's no trace of Elle's blood on your body anymore.

***

When Elle is discharged from the hospital, you spend the rest of the break helping her move out of her house and into a new apartment. When you drove her back home, the blood had been cleaned off of her floors, but you could see in her expression that it wasn't enough. This place would always be a reminder of what had happened to her.

The apartment search was quick, only a week between finding a place she liked and signing the new lease, but she saved the actual move out for the last few days of your break, instead hopping between sleeping in your guest room and a motel in town.

That's why you find yourself in Elle's old bedroom on the final Saturday before you're due back at work, packing some of her clothes into a suitcase while she works on clearing her bathroom. She tossed out almost everything she didn't absolutely need, only packing up her basic clothing and a few other sentimental keepsakes from her past.

"What about these?" you ask, holding up a pair of dark wash jeans that you remember her wearing to the bars with you a few months ago. God, has it really only been a few months?

She peeks out of the bathroom for barely a second. "I told you, I don't care. Keep it, toss it, your choice."

You don't know how you feel about being in charge of her future wardrobe, especially since you tend to live in loose jeans and old tee shirts when you're not at work, but you can understand where she's coming from. The instinct to hand off every decision to someone else.

You remember how hard it was for you to even decide what to eat for dinner after Jeff died. You also remember Hotch slipping pre-packed meals into your fridge whenever he came over to keep you company.

It takes you a couple of hours to clear out her house, and another hour to drop her and her stuff off at the new place, with promises to visit whenever you can over the next months of her leave.

You don't realize how exhausted you are until your front door shuts behind you and you collapse onto your couch, still in your dirty clothes. The summer sun is completely below the horizon as you lean back into your throw pillows and grab the tv remote. You haven't used your tv in months, and you figure that a vacation from work is the perfect opportunity to dust it off.

The screen comes to life on a local news channel, where a young reporter with teased-up hair is announcing a recall on a vacuum cleaner brand you've never heard of. She finishes her spiel before handing the mic off to an older woman who starts reporting the details of a car accident that took place in a neighborhood a few miles from yours.

These reports don't usually get under your skin - you have seen enough to know that it happens everyday - but suddenly, you can't stand to look at the crime scene tape flashing on your screen. You don't wait long enough to see what caused the accident. Whether it was a simple mistake, or if it was a drunk dri-

Grabbing the remote, you turn the television off and stand up, shaking your limbs out in an effort to rid yourself of the anxious feeling that's been growing inside of you.

You make yourself a quick microwave dinner and wolf it down in a few minutes, before trudging upstairs and hopping in the shower. You take your time washing the dust off of your body, and only emerge when the hot water runs out.

Even after cleaning yourself off and climbing into a fresh set of sheets, sleep doesn't come easily. The minutes tick by slowly as you stare at the ceiling, and before you can overthink it, you grab your phone off your nightstand and hit the first number on your speed dial.

It rings twice before the line connects. "Is everything okay?"

"What happened to 'hello'?" you ask, huffing out a laugh as you sit up in your bed.

Hotch grunts quietly. "Hello." You can hear the tiredness in his voice, but he sounds alert. You didn't wake him up. "What can I do for you?"

"So I have to need something to call you?"

"Y/N."

"Sorry for wanting to talk to my friend-"

He sighs so loudly, you can practically see his eyes rolling. "Are you going to tell me why you called or not."

"I helped Elle move out today."

That gets his attention. "How is she doing?"

You shrug, even though he can't see you. "As good as can be expected. We threw out almost all of her stuff, you know. She ended up with just a suitcase and three boxes at the end."

"That's just her way of coping, I guess."

"When we got to her house, it was..." You pause for a beat. You don't know the correct way to bring this up. "Well, it was clean. The blood was gone."

He doesn't say anything, and you know you were right. "Hotch, it was you, wasn't it."

He exhales quietly, as though he's trying to control his volume. Shit, maybe Haley's sleeping next to him. This is why you don't call someone after midnight.

"She didn't need to see a crime scene in her own home."

You wonder if he knows how he sounds right now. How caring and compassionate he can be when he doesn't try to tamp down that side of himself.

"You're a good unit chief," you say, leaning your head back against your wooden headboard. "I don't know why you keep things like this hidden."

You do know why, but that isn't what's important right now. There's a small creaking sound over the receiver and you imagine he's getting out of bed and crossing the room. Then the click of a door closing. "All that matters is that it's done."

You can't control the exasperated sigh that leaves your body. "Who are you trying to kid, Hotch? This is me you're talking to. I know how you worry that you aren't setting a good example for the team, but it's things like this that go a long way. It really wouldn't hurt for the team to see you showing some emotion."

"That's what they have you for," he says, his voice tightening the slightest bit. "They don't need that from me. When my emotions get in the way, I can't do my job properly."

You scoff. "And what job is that, exactly?"

"Keeping you safe."

He doesn't need to raise his voice to make you feel his anger. "If I had kept my emotion out of it, I wouldn't have sent her home. I wouldn't have let you accompany her, and I wouldn't have put both of you in danger."

Your hand comes up, rubbing circles into the skin above your chest. "Aaron...that wasn't on you." You can sense his protests coming, so you try a different tactic. "It wasn't on me either. No one but Garner deserves any blame for what happened."

The line is silent for a few moments, and you take the little victory. "I'm sorry I called you so late."

"Oh, it's alright," he chuckles. "You know I was up anyway."

***

She came back too quickly. You can't get the thought out of your head as you watch Elle restlessly tap her foot on the ground as she waits for the final word on whether she will be acting as bait for the serial rapist.

You don't think she's ready, and you've made your opinion known to the team, but Gideon made up his mind quickly.

"You think Elle's ready for it?"

"We'll be there for her."

You watch her vigilantly from Hotch's SUV as she enters the house and drops her keys on the table by the window. She's wired, which is a small relief, but Gideon's instruction not to have her gun on her has you more anxious than you'd like.

"Why isn't she leaving?" Hotch says from next to you, echoing your thoughts.

A car driven by a man fitting the profile pulls up on the opposite side of the street and you hear Morgan dialing Garcia. After a few seconds, he's back on the line. "William Lee. It's him."

"Bingo," Gideon's voice exclaims through your earpiece. "She's on the move."

You turn away from the car and see Elle exiting the front of the house. She glances at the man on her way to her car in the driveway, and it's only then that you notice the gun stuffed in her waistband.

"Her gun's out," you whisper, mostly to yourself. "What's she doing?"

"She's panicking."

"We've got no reason to bring him in."

"Don't blow it, don't blow it."

A chorus of yells echo through your earpiece as Elle stomps down the drive and points her gun at the unsub. "FBI, put your hands where I can see them!"

You throw open the car door and run over to apprehend the man as he fervently denies all of her accusations. "I was just stopping to look at my map."

The police put him into an interrogation room back at the station, where Hotch and Gideon try to get him to confess by showing empathy for this motive. It seems to be going well until his lawyer shows up, putting an end to the conversation.

She's been tense all day, so you're not surprised when Elle blows up. "You're letting him walk?"

Gideon is the first to step in. "Back off, Elle."

"You don't know what he's done," she yells, as though trying to reason with the police. The pain in her voice is palpable, but you can't deny the truth, even if you aren't able to voice it to her.

Hotch doesn't face the same issue. "The only reason he's walking is because you panicked."

"I'm supposed to believe that you've got my back?" she fires back, her anger redirecting to fly in his direction.

"What are you saying to me?"

"The last time you sent me home, Hotch, it got me shot."

All of the air leaves the room. You grab Elle's arm and pull her back, expecting more resistance than you get. "Walk with me."

She follows you across the hall and into a little meeting room that's scattered with evidence bags and files from the case. You let the door click shut behind her before you start speaking. "You need to take a breath. I know you, Elle. I know exactly what you're capable of. You just need to give yourself time to heal."

The fury in her eyes hasn't abated since you apprehended Lee a few hours earlier. You're not sure it will in this environment. "Take a walk. Get some air, and then come back."

She doesn't meet your eye as she pushes past you and storms out of the station.

***

"There's no reason for us to stick around anymore, is there?"

Gideon shakes his head and you purse your lips, glancing at the doors behind you. You haven't been able to shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen, but you suppose that's a common notion on this team.

"Wheels up at noon tomorrow."

You're walking out to the parking lot with the team when the feeling hits you again. The last time you felt this level of dread was right before you got the call from organized crime just over two years ago.

Your fears are confirmed when Hotch's phone rings with a call from the local PD that they have Elle at Lee's address. The drive over is silent, and even though you're always the first to call Hotch out on his guilt spirals, you can't get the thought out of your head that this is all your fault. You knew she had come back too quickly. Never mind that it wasn't your call. You should've fought it harder.

Lee's bullet-riddled body is like a beacon of your guilt as Elle insists it was cut-and-dry self defense. "I was having a conversation with him and he drew his weapon and I fired."

The police don't let any of you talk to her as they load her into the back of their cruiser, but you know what you have to do if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

"I'm going to the station," you tell Hotch before flagging down another one of the officers on the scene. He moves to stop you, but you sidestep him and level him with a glare that high school you would have been proud of. "I have to do this."

The station doesn't finish processing her until halfway through the night, but you couldn't fall asleep even if you wanted to. When they finally remove her cuffs and bring her out, you stand up from the plastic chair you spent the last four hours in and stretch out your legs.

She doesn't spot you immediately, but when she does, her body almost deflates. "I'm fine, L/N. You didn't have to come here."

She stops in front of you, her jacket hanging over her arm as she stuffs her badge back into her pocket. If you didn't know her so well, you would be surprised by how relaxed she looks. You wouldn't recognize the front she has had up since she stepped off the plane.

"What happened, Elle?"

That catches her attention, and you watch as the mask slips by a hair. "You don't believe me?"

You don't want to accuse her of something you have no evidence of, but you also can't ignore all of the signs in front of you. "Can you really look me in the eye and say you didn't go there hoping Lee would provoke you?"

She just looks at you, and you watch in real time as the mask slides back into place. Without another word, she turns around and walks out of the station.

***

The next case doesn't come until a few days later. Elle gets cleared by the bureau's internal investigation, but you can't imagine Hotch won't tack on a psych eval just to be safe.

"Nicholas Faye of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago."

JJ clicks her remote and the screen in the conference room changes, displaying the crime scene photos.

"God," you curse, averting your eyes for a moment. "He's just a child."

"Blunt force trauma to the head," she continues with a forlorn sigh. "He's the second young boy in Ozona to die the same death in the last 2 months. Local hunter found his body in the woods."

Morgan looks down at the case file. "First victim's name: Robbie Davis. Are these boys connected somehow?"

JJ shrugs. "Ozona's population's roughly 2, 500. Everyone has some kind of connection."

"Well if they weren't linked before, they most certainly are now."

Hotch and Gideon's absences from the conference room don't escape your notice, so you keep an eye out for them upon leaving the briefing.

You spot them discussing something in hushed whispers by the coffee station, and you wait for them to finish before you approach Hotch.

"You missed the briefing."

His eyes pinch, and you notice that the lines in his forehead are more prominent than usual. "What is it?"

"Elle missed her evaluation."

Your breath releases like a sigh. "I can check her apartment."

"No," he says matter-of-factly, with a shake of his head. "Gideon wants all of you in Texas for this one. I'll go look for her."

You would normally argue, but the horrific images from the briefing are still imprinted on the backs of your eyelids. "Okay. I'll see you soon."

He leaves you with a nod, and you grab your go-bag before following the rest of the team to the jet.

"You guys see Elle's cleared?" Reid pipes up as soon as the plane takes off.

Derek nods, his lips thinning. "Self defense."

"So it was a good shot."

"She hit what she was aiming for."

Reid frowns. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"If they cleared her how come she's not here with us?" You glance up and realize Reid is looking at you. "Or Hotch?"

You don't want to reveal more than is necessary, especially when the situation is this precarious and personal, but you're saved from responding when Gideon turns around and yells, "Focus on the case!"

JJ turns the conversation back to the unsub's motivations, and you all discuss a possible profile until a new female victim emerges that strays from the previous victimology.

Gideon doesn't waste any time delegating tasks. "When we land, Morgan and Reid, go to the new crime scene. The little girl."

He turns to you. "We'll look at the scene where Nicholas Faye was found."

The murder site is so far into the woods, that you can't help but imagine what it would've been like to be the little boy who was brought all the way out here with no hope of return. You can't believe that a young child would come this far out of their way unless they trusted the person they were following. "I think the victims knew their killer."

Gideon seems to be on the same train of thought. "They followed him to this spot."

"What makes you think that?" the local officer asks.

Gideon looks at you expectantly, and you take the invitation with a grateful nod. "Well I guess they went this deep into the woods because they trusted him. He probably stashed his weapon here beforehand. This means we're looking for someone intelligent, methodical."

The police officer accompanying you doesn't look sure of your assessment. "He bashed the kid's head in, it looks like a moment of rage to me!"

"I agree," Gideon muses, turning away and looking further into the woods. "It doesn't make any sense."

After informing the town's parents of the five PM curfew, and the children of the new buddy system in place, you excuse yourself to go call Hotch for an update.

"Anything new?" you ask when he answers the phone.

"I went to her appartment to talk to her," he explains, "but she was leaving with an overnight bag."

Your heart collapses in your chest. "She's running."

"I don't know, I hope not." He pauses for a beat. "I'm following her."

"All right," you sigh, wishing there was more you could do from here, "I really hope I'm wrong about this."

He's silent for a second, and you realize your slip up. "I just mean, I don't want to- I mean, fuck."

"I know," Hotch whispers. You can hear his car starting in the background. "But Gideon's right. She's innocent until proven guilty."

He ends the call with a promise to keep you updated, and you head back to the station, where another child has been reported missing. The missing boy's little brother draws your attention to a local legend that leads you to a Mr. Fennigan's so-called "haunted" house up in the hills.

***

"Garcia," you say into your phone before putting it on speaker and setting it down at the table you're sitting at. After establishing that Finnegan's house was empty, you and team have been searching the property for any indications that he's the unsub. "You got anything for me?"

"Only that Fennigan's house on the hill is like the Bates Motel of Ozona, Texas."

You roll your eyes, even though she can't see you. "We heard the legend from that counselor, Charles I think."

"Be careful, though," she says, her voice going lower as though she's telling a campfire story. "People that go into that house supposedly never come out."

"Garcia."

"But then there is that matter of his missing wife."

Deciding to humor her, you clear your throat and whisper, "Do you think she's still on the premises?"

"I got two words for you, my friend: 'rear window'. That guy probably chopped that lady up into delicious bitesize pieces."

You suppress a laugh. "Pen, do you really think that's gonna scare me?"

She huffs and you grin, tugging open one of the drawers next to you and peeking inside.

"You're no fun. Reid was scared shitless."

"He's just afraid of the dark," you smile, before your eyes catch on something bright under the table beside you. "Garcia, I gotta go. And cut Reid some slack."

"No promises, Mama."

You tuck your phone away and reach below the table, where you find a small pink backpack with the last victim's name scrawled on top in Sharpie. "Guys! I found something."

The clues from Finnegan's house lead you back to Charles, the town's guidance counselor, and then to his son, who the police are able to catch in the act of luring away Tracey Belle, another young girl. You don't relax until she's back with her parents, and even then, there's still a tension in your shoulders.

Cases involving children never get easier, but you can't help the kinship you feel to little Tracey Belle, who had the same look in her eyes that you recognized in yourself when you were ten years old. You don't remember your mom's funeral much, mostly because you were so young, but also because the whole day was a blur. The few flashes that come back here and there are your father's eyes, red from crying, and the cold gray of the headstone that you visited with him every year on the anniversary until you graduated.

The plane ride back is morose, and no one looks up from their reading material until it's time to disembark. Hotch isn't at the office when you drop off your case file, so you rub the exhaustion from your eyes and drive home.

There's a figure sitting on your porch when you pull into your driveway, and you're a moment from panicking when her face comes into the light.

"I turned in my badge," Elle says after you lock your car and walk up the steps.

Something twists in your gut, but the one emotion you aren't feeling is surprise. "Do you want to come inside? How long have you been waiting?"

She shakes her head, and you give her some time to formulate her thoughts. After a minute, she meets your eye again. "You were kind to me."

You don't know what to say, but you can see the change in her since just last week. She already looks lighter, and you can't help but think about how heavy the job can be. It's a weight on each of your lives that never seems to let up, and while you're going to be sad to see her go, you understand. It's the right choice.

Elle presses her lips together before curving them into a small smile. "You supported me after...after Garner. I'm gonna miss you."

You smile at her, even as your heart fills with sadness. "i'm going to miss you too."

Her body shifts like she's making to leave but then she turns back one last time. "You're too good for him, you know."

You get the sense that you know what she's referring to, but it's not something you can acknowledge without sending a flare shooting up your spine. She nods once, like that's all she wanted to say, and turns away into the night. You blink your eyes closed, squeezing them tightly as though it will somehow make the last few months a nightmare you can wake up from. But that's not how this works.

You give yourself a minute to pretend, but when you open your eyes again, she's gone.

***

The case that takes you to Golconda, Nevada feels almost unique to Gideon, as he takes each of the unsub's decisions personally in a way you haven't seen before.

Once you give the profile to the local police, the sheriff, Georgia Davis, leads you to a woman with a story to match the previous victimology.

"Jane," she says softly as she walks into the holding area at the back of the station. "These people are from the FBI. I'd like you to tell them your story."

Her story takes you through a tale of alien abductions and young love, but the kernel of truth underneath sounds awfully similar to the unsub's M.O. Her eyes still shine with a childlike tenacity that you don't usually see in other victims of such prolific and disturbing killers.

"Her subconscious mind has created a delusion that she was abducted by an alien," Gideon sighs after Sheriff George sends you all out of the room to let Jane rest. "She didn't show him the fear he wanted, so he let her go."

When it becomes clear that he is still in town, you disperse around the local R.V. park in search of his vehicle.

Hotch pairs you with Emily Prentiss, the new agent who joined the team after Elle left, and you welcome the opportunity to speak with her more than you've gotten the chance to since she arrived.

"How have you been settling in?" you ask her as you both stroll along the edge of the R.V. park.

"The team has been very welcoming," she says as she continues to scan the vehicles around you. "I'm just glad to be joining such an accomplished unit."

"That's kind of you," you smile, noting the extreme focus in her eyes. Her intelligence and intense concentration on each of the cases you've worked made much more sense when you learned about her history. Her background must have sparked more than a few nepotism claims over the years, so you don't mind letting her overcompensate, if it means she will prove to herself that she deserves to be here. "Everyone seems to like having you around. I certainly don't mind."

She shoots you a smile that you return by patting her forearm comfortingly. You were worried it would be hard for another agent to settle into the space Elle left on the team, but Prentiss has made easy work of it. She has the same humor as Derek and Penelope, and you've seen how well she gets along with you and JJ. Even Reid has welcomed her with open arms.

"This team is kind of famous," she says after a moment, piquing your interest.

"Oh?"

She shrugs, turning into another row of vehicles. "You've all been through so much, but it just seems to have made you more of a family."

When you first joined the team, that was all you wanted. You were by yourself, completely alone, and the team had become your family in the blink of an eye. It was exactly what you needed. These days, you're not so sure anymore. More family just means more people to lose.

"Can I ask you a question?"

You look at her with a nod. "Yeah, of course."

"It's about Agent Hotchner."

You should've figured. Every new agent tries to vie for his approval, until they realize it's not something you can force. "Yeah?"

She sighs, and you can tell this isn't something she wants to be talking about. "I don't know if I understand him. You're the only person who seems to have his ear. I guess I'm just wondering how I can do the same."

"I got his attention and respect through decades of friendship," you say, watching her eyes widen as you speak. "But he's not the enigma you may think he is. Showing off won't help your cause, but working hard and doing your job well is all you can really do."

She nods, taking in your words. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

You smile, bumping her shoulder to lighten the mood. "Don't worry about him. He knows your worth, I can tell."

Prentiss leans against you for a moment before shaking out her legs and turning back to the lot. "I don't think the unsub is here. We should meet up with the rest of the team."

Once Gideon puts it together that the unsub is hiding out somewhere in town, Hotch suggests that you all turn in for the night, but the older man doesn't want to listen.

"We could wait till first light, Gideon," he stresses, turning his body to stand between him and the officers. "It's gonna be dark soon."

"Do what you like," Jason grunts, shoving past him. "I'm gonna find him."

Hotch starts to go after him, but you step forward and put your hand on his shoulder. "Let him go. Maybe the walk back to the station will help clear his head."

He sighs heavily, and you know it's all the agreement you're going to get right now. "Let's head over there too. He needs our help if he wants to crack this before morning."

The stress lines on his forehead are almost as noticeable as they were the day Elle left the bureau, and you grab his wrist as he tries to turn away. You raise your eyebrows, knowing he'll be able to read the question written in the ridges of your face. How are you holding up?

Hotch rolls his neck to the side, stretching it out after what has been a very long day. When he looks back at you, you wait for a nod that comes after a moment. Alright. Been better, but alright.

Back at the station, the work is slow going, and you don't feel like anyone is helping with how uptight Gideon is acting. The air inside the small building has started to feel suffocating, and you finally get your chance to escape when Sheriff George grabs her car keys.

"I'm gonna take Jane home," she tells you when you approach her at her desk. "It's been a long night, and she needs to sleep in her own bed."

"You need to rest too," you say, noticing the droop of her eyes from sheer exhaustion. "Go home, Sheriff. I'll take her back. I remember her address from earlier."

She doesn't look convinced, so you lean in with a smile. "It's getting really stuffy in here. I need some air too."

That's all it takes to satisfy her, and she pats your arm with a nod before handing you the keys to the cruiser and walking to the exit.

You only see Morgan as you pick Jane up from the holding area, so you tell him you'll be back in a half hour and head out to the back lot.

"How long have you been living in this town?" you ask Jane as you make the short drive to her house.

"Since I was a teenager," she says dreamily, her eyes gazing out the window.

"You never wanted to live anywhere else?"

She shakes her head profusely. "Why would I? This is where I can be found."

You frown at her words, but it's not the oddest thing she has said today. When you arrive at her house, you park the cruiser out front and lead her up the porch steps, where she slowly unlocks the front door. "Do you want to come inside?"

You figure it wouldn't hurt to scope out the place, so you accept her invitation and follow her inside. "This is a beautiful home, Jane." Trinkets are scattered everywhere, and rudimentary sketches cover the walls.

"Thank you," she responds from another room. "You're very nice." You follow the sound of her voice to her kitchen, where she is struggling to lift a pitcher of juice from her fridge.

"Here, let me help you," you say, taking it from her and setting it down on the little breakfast table in front of her stove. "Do you have any cups?"

She walks over to a cupboard across from you, and you unclip your side-holster and set it on the table until the sound of a footstep behind you makes you spin on your heels.

You're assaulted by the sight of a tall, white man, who you immediately recognize from Gideon's profile earlier that day.

"Jane!" you yell, inching toward the table where your gun is. "I need you to run."

"Come with me, Jane," the man says, ignoring you completely. You use the moment of distraction to reach for your gun, but he's quicker than you. A sharp pinprick of pain shoots down your neck as your hand knocks over the pitcher of juice and your limbs suddenly feel like they weigh a million pounds.

"Jane, he's a murderer," you yell, hoping your voice doesn't sound as quiet as it does in your head. Your vision is already blurry, and you wish Reid was here to distract you by spouting off a list of fast-acting drugs from memory. "Jane, run!"

The last thing you hear before you black out is the sound of hurried footsteps receding into the background.

***

None of this makes sense. As each minute ticks by, he can't shake the feeling that they are missing something that's right under their noses.

"JJ just called," Morgan says, walking back into the station with his phone waving in his hand. "Apparently an anonymous caller called the tip line and claimed they saw an R.V. driven by a man who fits the description we gave to the media."

Hotch frowns. "Claimed?"

"Well, not a single R.V. or trailer has passed through any of the roadblocks."

Morgan's words click in his brain, and he instinctively glances beside him as an idea forms, but you aren't there. Now that he thinks of it, he hasn't seen you in over an hour.

"Who does the number belong to?" he asks, shifting his focus back.

Morgan is about to respond when Deputy Silo runs into the office, shoving past the other cops in his way. "We got a call from outside Jane's house. I think it was from the unsub."

Hotch stands up immediately, grabbing his jacket and gun, but next to him, Morgan stills, his face going slack.

"We need to head over there now," Hotch says, listing off a few instructions to the deputies nearby. Where are you?

"Hotch."

"And have some of your guys check in town," he continues, "in case he took her with him."

"Hotch."

He turns around. "What is it?"

"L/N drove Jane home."

His heart drops.

***

Just stay for a few more minutes, Jeff implores, his fingers dancing over your arm as you try to sit up.

You laugh as he tries to pull you back into the bed. I can't, I have to go into work.

Just five minutes, I promise. He pouts as you slide your legs out from under the covers. Three. One. One minute, please. I miss you.

I miss you too, you sigh, pressing a kiss to his lips. I'll see you tonight.

His hands reach up to caress your face, like he always does in the mornings. Cupping your cheek with his palm and running his fingers through your hair.

You settle into the feeling, wishing you had more time to just lay in bed with him. But you don't. Because Jeff's not here anymore.

Your eyes snap open right as the unsub tapes your mouth closed.

***

His hands grip the steering wheel as his SUV barrels up the small country road leading to Jane's house. He can't seem to press the gas pedal hard enough, and Reid's incessant foot-tapping in the backseat is driving him crazy, even though he understands the anxiety coursing through his body.

He beats Deputy Silo to the house, and flies out of the car without waiting for the other agents to open their doors. He's not sure what he's expecting to see inside as he pulls his gun from his waist holster, but he doesn't give himself a chance to think about it before kicking the door in.

"What the hell are you doing?" Morgan yells from behind him as he checks around the door and makes his way through the small hallway. The house is silent, aside from the footsteps of the agents behind him, but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears is almost deafening.

"Clear," he shouts after checking each room up to the kitchen. When he steps inside, there's juice all over the floor, and he spots the pitcher on its side beside the fridge. Juice, not blood.

His eyes flash to the table and his breath catches in his throat. He would recognize your holster anywhere, especially since he was with you when you bought it.

What do you think? It's not too bold, is it?

I definitely wouldn't mess with you.

"Why didn't she reach for her gun?" he wonders out loud.

"Because she couldn't." He turns around to see Reid holding up a large, empty syringe he found under the table.

He can't take his eyes off the juice on the floor, splattered everywhere as though someone had knocked it off the counter. The image of Elle's blood spilled all over her living room is still fresh in his mind, and he can't get over how easily the dark red cranberry juice seeping into the floorboards could have been yours.

Growing up, it was a common occurrence for you to patch him up and wash the blood off his skin, but there was only one time when he had to return the favor.

He still remembers the proud glint in your eyes after you had literally head-butted a man who had grabbed you in a college bar by Georgetown. Already a year into law school, he would've thought you'd have more forethought than to injure yourself in the hopes of getting back at the jackass, but once he saw your bloody grin, his annoyance had fizzled away.

"What on earth were you thinking?" he had asked as you stuck a scrap of napkin up your nostrils to control the flow after the head-butt broke a few blood vessels in your nose. He hadn't seen you much throughout undergrad, but he was glad that you hadn't changed too much, even if it meant you were just as wild as before. "I'm getting you ice."

A few minutes of angry haggling later, he returned to your side with a small bag of ice that he held to the bridge of your nose. Nothing he said could have ruined your mood that night, especially since the man had been kicked out of the bar and banned for life.

"Did you see the look on his face?" you had asked, your eyes twinkling behind the quickly melting ice.

"I did," he sighs, before breaking into a grin. "I'm just glad that your future law degree will give you another method of retaliation against scumbags like him."

You had laughed then, causing a few drops of blood to spray out of your nose, but all he could think about as he jerked back to avoid the mess was how happy he was that you were back in his life again.

Hotch flies back to the conversation happening around him, his brain refusing to let him imagine the worst case scenario.

"Those footprints," Morgan is saying as he starts listening again, "they got to be Jane's."

Reid nods, following along. "They go to the back."

"She escapes. The unsub knows the ketamine's gonna wear off, so he's got to act."

"No," one of the deputies says. "He hasn't got what he came here for."

His voice returns to him all at once. "So he took Y/N for leverage."

"He thinks we have Jane. Which means he wants a trade."

"Whatever he wants, we need to find Jane and your agent fast."

His agent. He feels sick at the thought of whatever that man is doing to you. "Garcia can track the phone number from the anonymous caller. You go to town, we'll find Jane."

***

Your eyes are blurry as you try to clear the fogginess in your head from whatever he injected you with. You can see the shape of the unsub moving around the room, and you squint your eyes to get a better look at the anatomical posters and drawings on the walls.

When your vision begins to focus again, the man comes toward you with a smile. "You're awake." He reaches forward to check the tape on your wrists and you try to jerk away from him, but your body is still flowing with the drug. You can't move as he brushes your hair behind your ear and smiles down at you, a sinister lack of emotion in his eyes. You stop trying to move, realizing it's no use. He's been doing this for years. Mutilating women. Cutting them to pieces.

You can feel your heart rate increasing, and you try not to look at the knives and saws littering the tables around you in an effort to keep yourself calm. Your team is looking for you. Derek knows where you went.

When he grabs your arms and starts lifting you off the makeshift operating table you were lying on, you try to scream, but the tape just pulls at your lips, tearing at the thin skin underneath.

Your eyes widen as he drops you into a metal coffin-like box, but he just looks at you with a shake of his head. "No need for that," he tsks before closing the lid over you, enveloping you in eery darkness.

***

Reid and Prentiss help him inspect Jane's house further for clues as to where the unsub could've taken you. The wind chimes of rib bone blowing in the breeze on the front porch catch his attention almost immediately.

His chest feels tight and he clears his throat. "He's obviously been here before and left these gifts for her."

"How romantic," Prentiss grimaces.

"Well, his version of romance."

Prentiss frowns. "What, are you trying to say you think he keeps coming back here because he's in love with her?"

"That's impossible," Reid interjects. "A sexual sadist can't feel love."

"Well," he says, "define love." He doesn't know if he can. He knows he loves Haley and Jack. He likes to think he always wants to be with them, but when a particularly excruciating case arrives on his desk, his desire to catch the bad guy trumps everything else in his mind. He knows he will always try to protect them from anyone or anything that wants to do them harm, but is that love?

It must be, because he feels the same instinct to protect you, but it manifests in him differently.

"Chemically, it involves surging brain elements called monoamines, dopamines, norepinephrine, and serotonin."

Of course that would be Reid's answer.

He continues rattling off a list of foods that contain these chemicals, and Hotch tunes him out, turning back to the house. They're missing something, they have to be. It's not until they spot a small trailer out back that it clicks.

***

You don't know how much time passes until the effects of the drug finally wear off enough for you to rub your wrists together to loosen the tape around them. The noises outside the coffin stopped a while ago, and you assume the man has left, likely to resume his search for Jane.

When the tape finally breaks, you let out a relieved gasp and let your arms rest for a few moments, before you begin slamming your fists into the bottom of the lid. It doesn't budge, no matter how hard you pound at it, so you change tactics, instead clawing your fingers at the seams in search of a hinge or screw you can loosen.

You're still trying to pry open the lid when you hear a muffled voice speaking outside the coffin. Despite your determination to stay calm, your heart squeezes in your chest as you bring your hands up to fight back in case he opens the lid. You feel someone slide your box across the floor, before opening the top and flooding your eyes with light.

When you adjust to the brightness, you see the familiar faces of Hotch, Reid, and Prentiss standing above you, and you almost cry with relief. Hotch reaches down with a small "thank god" and pulls you up and out of the coffin. Prentiss carefully peels the tape off your mouth, wincing as some of the skin of your lips comes away with it.

When you're standing up again, your legs give out as the fear leaves you, and you collapse into Hotch.

He catches you easily, holding you against him tightly as you shake from the sheer relief of being found before something irreversible happened. You're acutely aware of your teammates watching you hang onto your unit chief as though your life depends on it, but you can't bring yourself to let go.

It's only after your hands stop shaking that he finally pulls away.

***

When you return from Texas, most of the team heads straight home, but Gideon hangs back, calling you into his office.

"How are you doing after today?" he asks as you shut the door behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"Fine," you say simply, looking him straight in the eye. You're not sure exactly what you're feeling, but it definitely isn't fine. The few times your eyes fell closed on the flight back, you could still feel Frank's fingers pressing the tape onto your face.

Gideon scrutinizes you for a moment, his brow crinkling as he waits for you to elaborate. You can appreciate his intention, but you really don't feel like talking about it right now. Not when the memory of the cold metal on your skin is still fresh.

"Okay," he concedes after a minute of silence. It's not really a concession - you can already hear him recommending you for a psych evaluation - but it's enough for the moment. "You don't have to do it right away, but you need to eventually fill out an incident report. I can get you the paperwork now, but I mean it, take your time."

He reaches into his accordion file folder and pulls out a sheet of paper that's mostly blank, except for a few lines at the top. "Just hand it in to me or Hotch when you're done."

You accept the paper and leave his office, with a promise to head home soon. You heard his suggestion to finish it in your own time, but you can't imagine coming back to this at a later date.

Dropping into your chair, you lay the paper down on your desk and read over the form. The first section is the same as every other form you've had to fill out at the bureau: name, date, badge number.

The second half is just one line of instruction before a vast sea of white space. Describe the incident in detail.

Images from Frank's workshop flash in your mind. A roll of silver duct tape. A bloody washcloth. A rusted scalpel. Nothing you can effectively put onto paper.

The words don't come, even as the lights in the hallway automatically turn off, and the hushed voices from the nearby offices go silent. You eventually stand up to shake out your legs and get another coffee, not because you need it to stay awake, but because it feels like the normal thing to do. The idea of sleeping just takes you back to the darkness of the coffin, and a shudder runs through you as you pour yourself a cup and dump the muddy remains of the pot in the sink.

You're about to head back to your desk to fruitlessly stare at the form for a little while longer, when your eye catches on a small lamplight from Hotch's office at the top of the stairs. Gulping back a mouthful of stale coffee, you toss the rest in the trash and grab your report before hiking up the stairs.

"You're still here?" he asks when you knock on his door and push it open. "I thought you left hours ago."

The same question Gideon asked you earlier is etched into his face, but you know he won't voice it just yet. He was always good about knowing your boundaries (and when to push them).

"I could ask you the same thing," you smile with a shrug, before flopping down into the chair by his desk. "You really need to replace this chair, by the way. It's horribly uncomfortable."

He snorts quietly. "It's a perfectly fine chair."

You laugh, the sound quickly turning into a yawn.

"Go home," he stresses, dropping his pen and fixing you with a pointed stare.

"You first."

"I have work to do."

"So do I."

He looks down at the paper in your hands. "Gideon gave you the form already? I was going to give it you in a few days."

"I'm glad he gave it to me today," you say, before dropping your eyes with a sigh. "I've just been having some trouble finding the words to describe what happened."

"You don't have to do it now..." he starts, but you cut him off.

"I do. I don't want to come back to this later. I need to finish it now, while I still can."

"Okay," he accepts after a moment. "Then take your time. I'll be here."

You fall into a comfortable silence as you bring your pen back down and start writing.

***

He doesn't finish his own paperwork until well after midnight. When he looks up from his reports, you're asleep, your head resting on your crossed arms over his desk.

He would normally wake you and tell you to head home, but you look so peaceful for the first time in too long. Haley and Jack would have gone to bed hours ago, so he figures it won't hurt to stay with you for at least a little while as you get some much needed rest. He can't imagine that sleep has been coming easy - he saw you shaking yourself awake each time you closed your eyes on the plane - so he lets you slumber.

He still hasn't gotten the image of you with your hands and mouth taped out of his head, and he doesn't know if he ever will. When your legs had given out, his arms had instinctively shot forward to grab you before his brain could catch up. He can barely look at the bandages on your wrist now, where the tape rubbed your skin raw.

Standing up from his chair, he slides his suit jacket down his arms and steps around his desk. Being extra careful not to wake you, he drapes it over your shoulders and lets you sleep.

***

Hotch gives you the next week off, but the quiet solitude of your house is too much to bear with all of the memories swirling through your brain. You know he would have called you if there was a case out of town, so a few evenings later, you find yourself in your car, driving over to the Virginia field office.

When you walk into the bullpen, it's empty aside from Reid at his desk and Prentiss at the coffee station. It's late, and you assume Reid is just taking some notes down from the last case, but you aren't sure why Emily is still here.

"Hey," she says when she sees you sit at your desk. "Don't you have the week off?"

She looks exhausted, but you understand where she's coming from. The urge to overcompensate for being new. For not being the agent you're replacing. You felt it with Gideon when you were transferred here. She likely feels it with Elle.

"I needed to get out of the house," you explain, adjusting your seat and settling back.

"I hear that," she says, before putting a lid on her coffee cup and grabbing her bag. "I should actually go home for once, but I'll see you in a few days."

Spencer doesn't look up from his notepad until the sound of the door closing behind Emily jerks him from his stupor.

"You're here," he states, as though he's not sure if he is supposed to be asking a question or not. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug, smiling at him. For a genius, he can be kind of clueless sometimes. "I wanted to see you guys."

"Oh," he says, placing his pen on his desk, "well, it's just me here."

You grin. "Works for me."

That makes him smile slightly, but it falls in an instant. "I'm glad you're okay."

Your heart leaps into your throat. "Thanks, Spence, me too."

You expect him to return to his notes, but he just looks down and back up again. "Are you? Okay?"

You frown, more out of a lack of understanding, but he starts backtracking immediately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't press-"

"It's fine," you reassure, pressing your lips together. "It's what everyone's thinking anyway."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, so you continue to fill the silence. "You just can't let the stares get to you."

"How, though?" he says after a beat. You're not sure what he's asking, but the confusion you're feeling must be mirrored in your expression, because he elaborates. "Ever since my mom came here for the Garner case, I feel like everyone has been looking at me, with all this...pity."

Your chest squeezes as you think about all of the lingering stares that followed him around in the week after Garner killed himself. Even Morgan couldn't hide his shock when Mrs. Reid showed up at the field office. "Have I?"

He shakes his head, and your chest relaxes with relief. Spencer glances up at you, and he looks so young for a second. "You're one of the few who hasn't."

"I guess I just understand the stares better than anyone," you sigh, feeling the familiar ache as your memories return to you in flashes.

You hear him suck in a breath as the realization dawns on him. "Agent Adler..."

You nod and Reid gives you a second to take a breath before he continues. "He was my instructor once, you know. At the academy."

You smile as your eyes shine with unshed tears. "Yeah, I know."

There's this kid in my hand-to-hand combat seminar.

Kid?

He can't be more than 20, maybe 21 years old. But the kid has guts.

You remember those nights before Jeff joined organized crime so fondly these days. The calm before the storm.

"He never treated me differently."

You look up with a sad smile, the memory receding as Spencer shares his own. "Hotch made me take a few physical training classes at the academy after I joined. All the other instructors acted like I was a joke, or a prank being pulled on them...but he never did."

That doesn't surprise you. Jeff was so nurturing and kind, much better than you ever were before you met him.

"I really miss him sometimes," he whispers softly.

You reach forward and press your hand on top of his. He doesn't pull back. "Me too, kid."

***

You can't remember the last time the team went out together. There was one night, what feels like years ago, when you all got dinner together after an especially cut-and-dry case that ended within the first day you arrived on scene. When the cases are long and hard-fought, it's not the same; everyone bolts the minute the jet hits the tarmac.

Tonight, something feels different. There hasn't been a new case in a couple of weeks, and everyone seems lighter.

"I'm back," Haley smiles, carefully setting two drinks down on the little high top table you are crowded around. "Spicy marg for Emily, and mojito for me."

You're still nursing the old fashioned you ordered a half hour ago, and Hotch is only halfway through his pint of Guinness.

"How are they treating you at the BAU, Emily?" Haley asks, before putting the straw in her mouth and taking a large sip.

"She means is he being nice to you," you grin, cocking your head at Hotch as he shoots you a look of mock-offense. You know I'm right.

He flashes his eyes. And?

"Everyone has been incredibly nice," she says with a smile as a waitress approaches you with a drink in her hand.

She sets it on the table in front of you and glances behind her. "That man over there bought this for you."

Haley starts hooting before the waitress has a chance to leave the vicinity. She's definitely starting to feel her mojito, but you would never judge her on her one night away from the baby.

"That was weird," you say, hoping you don't look as awkward as you feel.

Haley leans forward and grabs your hand, an earnest smile on her face. "You should go talk to him! Only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah, it's your night off," Emily agrees, shooting you a smirk over the rim of her margarita.

"I don't know, guys," you say, sliding the drink to the center of the table.

You can tell Haley isn't done encouraging you to have a wild night, so you brace yourself for the pounce, but thankfully, Hotch stands up just as she's opening her mouth, and takes her hand. "Come on, honey, let's go show them how it's done."

"Oh!" she smiles, her face lighting up as she follows him onto the dance floor. "You ladies don't have too much fun without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you grin, before downing the last of your original drink.

Emily watches them shimmy into the crowd, her chin resting on her palm. "They are so sweet."

"They've been that way forever," you agree, glancing back over at them as they dance lazily in the center of the dance floor. Haley's movements are a bit looser as she slides through his arms, but he keeps a firm grasp on her hand, keeping her upright even when it looks like she may fall.

He still looks at her the same way he did in high school, when he saw her at that first rehearsal for Pirates of Penzance. There's so much wonder in his eyes, like he's seeing her for the first time, every time.

***

You should be happier right now. You're done with high school, sitting in a sea of green caps and gowns with all of your friends, but all you can think about is how soon he's going to be gone.

You're going to be at different schools next year. Him at Harvard, you at UCLA, opposite ends of the country, for four years. The gravity of what that means didn't sink in until this very moment, the worst possible timing, because you're supposed to be happy right now.

"High school couldn't end fast enough," the girl next to you grins, her cap decorated with the glittery letters of the school she will be attending next year. "I'm so ready for all of this to be over."

You're not. You force your lips into a smile and let yourself glance a few rows up, just for a moment. When it's just the back of his head, you aren't confronted by the confusing emotions that have been swirling around your brain for the last few months. Of course you would realize you're in love with your best friend a semester before school ends. But that isn't the only reason your timing couldn't be worse.

You wave at your dad in the crowd, you is wearing more school colors than even you are, and he waves back enthusiastically. It distracts you for a moment, but then you face the front again, and your eyes are drawn back to the same place.

He turns back then, with a grin meant just for you, and your heart flutters like it's in a butterfly enclosure. You smile back, more genuine this time, but his attention shifts behind you after a quick nod. You don't have to turn back to know who he's looking at in the stands.

You shouldn't be surprised they got along so well, you practically set them up. After their first date, he seemed lighter than air, giddy with the impatient brush strokes of a first love. The look in his eyes now is the same as it was that day.

How did it go?

I'm gonna marry that girl one day.

You don't know why you had just assumed he was joking around. Hotch never joked about things like this.

Eventually, he turns back around in his seat, and you stare at your hands as you clasp and unclasp them over and over and over again until you no longer feel the cavity in your chest where your best friend used to be.

***

The next case comes in as you're working on your second drink. JJ corrals everyone at the bar into taxis, and sends you all off to the airport where the jet is already fueled and waiting.

"You missed a fun night," you note as Gideon climbs into the plane, a few minutes after the rest of you arrived.

"I had a good time," he says simply, before sitting by himself a few rows over. He hasn't spoken to you since he gave you the incident report, but you know it's not about you. Being forced to let Frank get away was hard on him, but you don't know how to assuage his guilt about your kidnapping if he won't even look at you.

Derek flips open his case file and huffs out a breath. "Well, good time's definitely over."

"The Kyles," JJ says, beginning the briefing as the plane takes off, "Dennis and Lacy were murdered an hour ago in their suburban Atlanta home."

You look up, assuming you heard her wrong. "Only an hour ago?"

"Police were on scene unusually fast," she nods.

Derek frowns. "Why?"

"One of the unsubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims."

Prentiss lets out a humorless laugh from across from you. "You're kidding."

"From inside the house."

JJ scans the file again. "According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there."

Gideon enters the conversation with a confused frown. "Sinners?"

"Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed." She holds up a photo of a page that looks torn out of a book.

"Revelations, chapter 6, verse 8."

Gideon sighs. "They're on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing."

***

Gideon was right, as he usually is. The killings don't stop, and videos of the murders are posted online, spreading the killers' message for them.

"JJ, why don't you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr. Hankel and see if he remembers something."

"On it."

Garcia calls almost immediately after they leave. "There's a new video from our psycho."

Hotch stills. "Get it on the monitor here as soon as you can."

The police officer you met at the first crime scene joins you, Hotch, and Morgan in front of the computer as the video appears on the screen. The first thing you see is the dirty mattress. Then come the dogs.

You avert your eyes as the woman's screams for help fill the room.

"Jezebel's death," Hotch whispers, almost to himself.

"My god," Morgan grimaces. "You can turn it off."

The officer suddenly leans forward. "Oh, wait."

"You haven't seen enough?" Morgan asks, disgust coloring his tone. He has two sisters, both of whom he protects fiercely. You can't imagine what he's thinking about as he watches the screen.

"Those dogs," he says, his voice growing in strength as he speaks. "Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago. I would have had them impounded, but the victim knew the owner."

"You have the owner's name?"

He checks his notepad, flipping through it rapidly. "Hankel."

Your blood runs cold. "Hankel?"

"Tobias Hankel."

You're on your feet before he can finish saying his name.

***

The drive to the Hankel farmhouse is filled with hand wringing and nervous leg bouncing. You keep catching Hotch glancing over at you, but you don't care. You just need him to drive faster.

When he pulls up in front of the house, you and Emily throw your doors open before he can come to a complete stop. Hotch and Gideon head toward the house, so you lead Prentiss and Morgan over to the barn, where you can hear the faint sound of panicked breathing.

Lifting your gun and flashlight, you push open the barn door and are greeted by the sight of JJ pointing her gun at you. "JJ, it's L/N, Prentiss, and Morgan. You're okay."

She looks frenzied, her hair and clothes covered in a layer of sweat and grime. When her flashlight comes down, you notice the dead dogs on the ground.

"Tobias Hankel is the unsub," she gasps, stumbling over to you.

"We know, honey," you whisper, taking her arm and leading her outside, before glancing at Emily behind you. "Call an ambulance."

She nods and rushes over to the clearing in search of better cell signal as Derek steps forward, his face still twisted into a worried frown. "JJ, where's Reid?"

"They just completely tore her apart," she babbles, her eyes still frantic even as you put your hands on her shoulders to steady her. "There's nothing even left-"

"JJ, look at me."

Her eyes snap over to Morgan, and he brings his voice down again. "Where's Reid?"

"We split up," she says, her voice still tight, but slightly calmer. "He said he was going to go in the back."

"House is clear," Hotch calls from behind you, making you spin around, your mouth twisting with dread.

"So where is he?"

JJ's eyes glance back at the cornfield behind the house, and suddenly you're running. You can hear someone calling your name, but all you can think about is Spencer with an unsub who's idea of torture is biblical and cruel.

There are two sets of footprints in the dirt by the edge of the field, but after a few feet, they turn to drag marks. Oh no, oh god no.

***

The whole team - except for Reid, your brain keeps reminding you - sets up in Hankel's house, with even Garcia joining you on the scene to limit communication time.

You can't sleep as you alternate between reading Hankel's journals and hovering over Penelope's shoulder as she pores through his downloaded images and videos. Even as exhaustion pulls at your eyes, you periodically splash your face with water from the bathroom to keep yourself up. If anyone can understand how terrifying it is to be taken by a psychotic killer, it's you. Succumbing to sleep feels like a defeat, like you've given up on him.

You don't find anything useful until after Emily and JJ return from meeting with Tobias's N.A. sponsor, but in the sixth hour of scouring his journal, your brain clicks with a realization. "Guys, some parts of this journal match his father's handwriting. But they were written after he died."

"The bedrooms upstairs..." Gideon mutters, his eyes shifting up like they do when he's thinking. "One of Tobias's personalities may be his father."

Your brow furrows and you look down at the journal in front of you even as your eyes burn with fatigue. "Then who is Raphael?"

"My guess," Gideon sighs, "a mediator between the two."

Hotch looks at you, and you can see the concern etched into his face. "We need to start profiling Tobias's father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid."

Morgan nods. "I'll get Garcia on it."

He leaves the room and Hotch comes over to the table, where you're still staring down at one of the journals. Your hands are covered in pink half-moon indentations where your nails were pressed, and he fights the urge to take you away from here, to save you from this hurt. "You should get some rest."

"I'm fine, Hotch," you whisper through gritted teeth. He can hear the worry in every word that leaves your mouth. The terror at the prospect of losing the team's youngest profiler.

"You didn't sleep at all last night," he points out gently.

"Neither did you."

You're not wrong. He didn't get a chance to shut his eyes either, but he's used to the sleepless nights. He supposes you are, too.

Your focus returns to the journal, and you don't notice as he slips out of the room and finds Gideon by the front of the house.

"Reid's brilliant," the older man sighs when he notices Hotch, almost like he's trying to convince himself. "He'll make it."

"I take advantage of Reid for his brain," he says softly, "but I never teach him how to handle things emotionally."

Jason shrugs. "Lead by example."

"What kind of example is that?"

For a bunch of criminal psychologists, you all still have no idea how to truly deal with losing people. Maybe that's just how life works. He thinks about the weeks after Jeff's death, when he wasn't sure if you would ever be okay again. Even as he held you while you cried, and promised that you would feel okay someday, he's not sure if he ever actually believed it.

But then one day, your eyes stopped shining at the mention of his name, and you no longer fell apart after each time you had to question a victim's widow.

Even after your mother's death, you were stoic. He remembers holding your hand at the funeral, but your grip was almost stronger than his, like you were holding him up with your sheer willpower to stay upright.

Seeing you now, he's not sure what will happen if Reid doesn't come back. He just knows he doesn't plan on finding out.

He and Gideon rush back inside when Garcia's voice frantically calls for everyone to look at Hankel's monitors. His eyes squint inadvertently as the video feed of Reid tied to a chair lights up the screens in front of them, almost like his brain is trying to block out the image.

Your hand flies to your mouth, but not before a small anguished sound escapes. "He's been beaten."

"This is for us," Garcia whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He knows we're here."

"I'm gonna put this guy's head on a stick," Morgan spits out, before turning around and slamming his fist into the room's wooden door.

Gideon leans closer to the screens, clearly trying to take in any detail he can from the scene. "Why can't you locate him?"

"He's rerouting to a different I.P. address every 30 seconds," Garcia explains, her voice thick through the tears. "I can't track him."

***

The screens shut off and the video feed of Spencer is gone. Penelope starts frantically typing away at the keyboard, likely in an effort to regain the signal, but it doesn't seem to be working.

Your body feels heavy, like there are weights on all of your limbs. Realistically, you know it's mostly the stress and exhaustion, but you can't stop thinking about the frightened look on Reid's face and how he must be feeling.

When you walk back through the house, the sound of a hushed argument in the kitchen catches your attention.

"JJ, what do you want from me?"

You recognize Morgan's voice, and you almost turn away to give them some privacy, but something in JJ's voice as she responds keeps you at the door.

"I just...I want someone to tell me the truth."

"The truth is one of you is here, and one of you isn't. You gotta figure the rest out for yourself."

You're walking inside before you can stop yourself. "Morgan, go help Penelope with the video file."

He looks surprised when he sees you, but he doesn't argue before leaving the room.

JJ rakes a hand through her hair as you approach her slowly. She doesn't shy away as you stand next to her, so you reach out and squeeze her forearm once before pulling back. "I was terrified when Frank took me in Texas."

She looks up with a shocked expression, her eyes finally meeting yours for the first time all day.

"I was terrified," you repeat, "but I never lost hope, because I knew you guys would come for me, no matter what."

Her eyes crinkle with sorrow and you pat her arm again, almost as much for you as for her. "I didn't blame anyone for what happened to me, JJ. Reid isn't blaming you either."

Her lip trembles, and you pull her into a hug as the tears finally come.

***

"Your team members...choose one to die."

Spencer gasps on the grainy computer monitor. "Kill me."

"Tell me who dies."

"No."

The back and forth continues as Hankel stalks toward him and lines his revolver up with Reid's forehead. "Choose."

"I-I choose Aaron Hotchner."

The room stills.

"He's a classic narcissist. He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4. 'Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense. In emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.'"

Reid's words sink in and you unconsciously reach towards Hotch, but he's already walking out of the room. You follow him into the other room, the rest of the team on your heels.

"I'm not a narcissist," he says, his voice lighter than you're expecting. He grabs a Bible from the table and quickly flips through it, landing on the verse Reid mentioned.

"Come on, look," Gideon urges. "You can't think anything from that. He's not in his right mind, Hotch."

He waves away everyone's concern. "No. Stop. Stop. All right, everybody right now- what's my worst quality?"

No one says anything. You can feel Morgan revving up, so you jump in to start things off. "You're a workaholic."

Your mind flashes back to your hometown's library, all the late nights where you would fall asleep in your chair as he worked away into the early hours of the morning. His home was a trigger after his father died, and you could see the guilt eating away at him as he realized he didn't miss his dad as much as he was supposed to. As much as Sean did. The guilt that wore him down as he struggled to figure out how to be there for his brother, when he couldn't understand his pain.

He nods at you then, and there's nothing but determination behind his eyes.

"You're a bully," JJ chimes in.

Morgan adds, "You can be a drill sergeant sometimes."

Hotch is still nodding. "Right."

"You don't trust women as much as men," Emily says, her voice wavering slightly.

"Ok, good," he says, tapping the page with his finger. "I'm all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't, ever."

"Hotch, what's your point," you whisper, chewing your lip as you anxiously glance back at the screen.

He shushes you with a wave of his hand. "Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that, and he also quoted Genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. Read it."

You lean forward, taking the book from him. "'I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight.'"

"He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose."

"Bury my dead," Morgan repeats, his eyes widening. "He's in a cemetery."

***

Hotch heads to the nearest cemetery with Morgan and Gideon, while you follow closely behind, with JJ in the seat next to you and Emily in the back. The drive is short, and you all throw yourselves out of the SUV when you park, as everyone spreads out to search the cemetery.

"Come with me," you tell JJ when you see her eyes flit around the darkness, a slightly panicked expression on her face. "We'll find him."

The wet mulch of the graveyard sinks under your quick footsteps, and you keep your eyes peeled as his name choruses around you, from all of the officers milling around.

The search ends with the sound of a gunshot, and when you get to the source, you nearly collapse with the relief of seeing Hankel on the ground as Reid kneels beside him.

"Spencer," you gasp as the other agents examine Hankel's body. He looks up at the sound of your voice and his face contorts for a second as you kneel in front of him.

A small sound leaves his mouth and suddenly your arms are crushing him to you, your panic ebbing away with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "You're okay. You're okay."

Hotch reaches out when you break apart and helps him up before Reid pulls him into a tight hug that surprises everyone. "I knew you'd understand."

Hotch tightens his arms for a moment, before they both pull back and JJ throws her arms around Reid. "I'm so sorry."

He pats her back, and for a split second, you can almost imagine he's comforting her, instead of the other way around. "It's all right. It wasn't your fault."

She steps away from him and he asks for a moment alone, so you all move back a few paces, allowing him the time to come to terms with the death of the man who somehow both tortured and saved him. You use the second of space to catch your breath as you will yourself not to let the tears of relief fall.

When Spencer finally stands up, you grab onto his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you, and you help him over to the ambulance that is waiting by the edge of the cemetery.

"Thank you," you gasp as he sits on the edge of the vehicle, suddenly unable to help yourself.

He frowns, his hair hanging in sweaty pieces in front of his face. "For what?"

"For staying alive."

***

The next case takes you to New York, where you find yourself hyper-vigilant as you watch Spencer try to acclimate to the job again. You can't help but notice the small changes in his demeanor, including the snappiness in his tone as he responds to everyone's questions, but you attribute it to the shock of his kidnapping.

After returning from the city, you decide to take some time to complete the paperwork you've been letting slide. Hotch managed to head home at a decent hour for once, and JJ and Prentiss are no where to be seen, but you spot Morgan twiddling his thumbs at his desk, his eyes darting over to peer at Reid almost as often as yours do.

An hour into scribbling out a case report, you head over to the coffee station to refill your mug. It has cooled down since you made it a couple of hours ago, but it still tastes just how you like it.

Burnt, Hotch's voice grumbles in your head. Even when he's gone, he won't leave you alone.

Topping off your mug, you turn around to get back to work and end up bumping into Reid, who looks worse for wear than he did on the jet.

"Shit, sorry," you smile, trying to get him to meet your eye. "I didn't see you there."

"Watch where you're going," he snaps, before stepping around you.

You don't let him get away that easily. Grabbing his arm, you hold him in place as he tries to wriggle away. "Spencer, don't do that. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I'm fine," he says simply, his expression almost emotionless as he glances back at you over his shoulder.

"I'm serious," you say, putting extra emphasis on your words. "I know what you're feeling. I can help."

His expression shifts into one of animosity and something else you can't place. "You don't know anything about what I'm feeling."

His words are like a slap to the face, and he uses your break in focus to tug himself out of your grip and stalk over to the bathroom around the corner.

You press your lips together, willing yourself not to take it personally. He's just been through a horrifying ordeal. No one can expect him to continue on like normal, at least for a little while.

"Something is up with him," Morgan says from his desk, before spinning in his chair to look at the spot where Reid walked away. "He's acting...hostile."

"He's just adjusting," you say quickly, your protective instinct coming out in full force. You close your eyes for a moment to calm your voice down. "This is a normal reaction for what he went through."

Derek doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't press the issue. You don't even know if you're convincing yourself, because you know why this kind of hostility and irritation manifests: when you're hiding something.

You weren't a particularly crazy teenager, so you didn't have much to hide from your parents, but there was one secret you held until you left for college that manifested in your daily interactions. One secret that changed how you acted around your best friend, how you spoke to him, how you even looked at him.

You push the thought away before turning to stare at the bathroom door as it falls shut behind Reid. You know Morgan's right. You just don't know what to do.

***

"Hey, Reid," Derek says, looking at him with a small smile. "What's going on up there?"

He shrugs. "Just thinking of this old friend of mine from Las Vegas, Ethan. Pretty sure he lives in New Orleans now."

JJ called you at home a few hours ago with the briefing and an instruction to pack for warm weather. Wanting to pack light, you threw on the tank top you planned to wear, and a button-down for the flight. A few cursory glances around the jet tell you that almost everyone else had the same idea. Of course, Hotch is still in his suit, and Reid has on a sweater vest that you're sure he won't take off, even if the temperature skyrockets.

"Really?" Derek asks. "You going to give him a call?"

Reid shrugs again, and you absentmindedly wonder if his shoulders hurt from the number of times he has used that motion over the past week. "We grew up competing against each other in absolutely everything. Spelling bees, science fairs. We also both had our hearts set on joining the Bureau but first day at Quantico he backed out."

Emily, who is sitting next to you, looks up with a grin. "He probably just couldn't take the heat."

"It's not really for us to judge, is it?" Reid states, and her face falls immediately.

"Right. My bad."

He hasn't been as irritable in recent days, but sometimes a random response will rub him the wrong way. You find Emily's hand on the armrest and squeeze it once. She looks down at her hand and then at you, a grateful smile on her face.

JJ directs everyone back to the images that were recovered as you approach Louisiana.

"A slaughter like this takes time," you note as you examine the depth and shape of the wounds on the dead man in the photos before you.

"Andrei Chikatilo fantasized that the men he killed were his captives," Reid adds, chiming in from across the cabin, "and that torturing and mutilating them somehow made him a hero."

Gideon nods, looking up from his file. "This city's barely back to life. Something like this could cripple its psyche."

"So," you say, looking at JJ. "Where do we start?"

She sighs. "All of the records were washed away in Katrina."

"With no case files, there's only one place we can start," Hotch says, drawing your attention. "Square one."

The plane lands soon after, and you disembark into the midday heat, heading to the latest crime scene immediately after dropping your bags off at the station.

Instead of a body, there's a very alive man waiting for you all at the scene.

"You must be BAU," he says, reaching out to shake JJ's hand. "Will Lamontagne."

She smiles at him, accepting the handshake. "Hi, Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone."

The detective is looking at her so intently, you almost feel like you're interrupting something by bring here. "Okay, then. I pictured you different."

You glance over at Emily, who is already looking at you, a smirk on her face.

"These are Agents Gideon, Morgan, Prentiss, and L/N," she introduces. "This is Detective William Lamontagne Jr."

He nods at you. "Appreciate you guys being here."

"Of course," you say, trying to keep the smile off your face as you shake his hand. Beside you, JJ has turned a light shade of mauve that you presently allow her to pretend is just from the heat.

***

"Morgan called," Hotch mentions when you finally meet him back at the station. He hasn't seen you since you got off the plane. "He and Prentiss think the unsub is a woman."

You ponder the idea, your eyes lighting up as the gaps in the profile get filled. "All straight male victims, killed while on a night out at the bars. Always in groups of other men, drinking. A woman would be able to lure them away. That makes sense."

He nods, turning back to the letters from the unsub. He's about to call the rest of the team back in when he notices your forehead crinkle out of the corner of his eye. You look up at him. "Wait, you said Prentiss and Morgan think it's a woman. What about Reid? Didn't he fly out with them?"

He sighs, mentally kicking himself for letting that slip. He doesn't want you worrying about Reid any more than you already have been, but he knows there isn't anything he can do to stop you. "Apparently he missed the flight. They couldn't get ahold of him."

"What?" Your brow furrows with concern, and he quickly interjects to keep you from spiraling. "They will be back from Texas any minute now, and Gideon said he spotted Reid heading over here a few minutes before you arrived. Nothing has happened to him."

"What are you talking about?" you exclaim, before bringing your voice down. "The worst thing happened to him. He's hurting more than any of us can possibly imagine. I just don't know how to help him get through it."

He doesn't correct you. He doesn't say that almost every single member of this team can at least somewhat relate to what Reid may be feeling, including you. Instead, he puts his hand on your arm and says, "You're doing all you can."

You sigh. "And what's that?"

"You're promising to be there when he's ready for your help." He sees the tension visibly leave your shoulders, and he pulls his hand back. "That's all any of us can do."

***

When another body is found in the French Quarter, the plan changes. Everyone disperses in pairs to cover the streets in the hopes of catching the unsub in action.

Even as night falls, the temperature doesn't, and you strip off your over-shirt, leaving you in a pale pink tank top. When you emerge from the bathroom, Hotch is the only one waiting for you outside, with all of the other pairs already patrolling Bourbon Street.

He gives you a funny look when he sees you tying your button-down around your waist, and you bump your shoulder against his with a laugh. "What are you looking at?"

He exhales in a quick burst, before meeting your eye. "You look different."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No," he shakes his head, his eyes blinking shut as he clearly regrets his choice of words, "no, it's good...uh, you look good."

Your stomach flips and you turn your face down to hide the smile that's threatening to appear. "Thanks, Hotch."

He huffs out a laugh before leading you up to the bars, where tourists are bustling around in large groups. The sounds of buskers playing their accordions at the street corners loosens a memory from your brain, and you turn to him with a bright smile. "Remember your first performance of Pirates of Penzance?"

He frowns. "I remember it being my first and last foray into the world of theater."

"No," you giggle, glancing around you periodically even as you continue the story. "I mean, do you remember how that one accordion player tripped and almost fell into the orchestra pit like ten minutes into opening night?"

His eyes light up at the memory and he laughs. "I thought it was hilarious, but Haley was so stressed out the whole performance. To this day, I've never seen that vein in her forehead get so big."

"You were pirate number four," you chastise him with a grin. "She was one of the leads. I hardly think you can compare experiences."

He shrugs, his eyes still scanning the vicinity. He looks like he wants to say something, but then you both notice Morgan and Reid rushing towards one of the side streets and your conversation halts. "Let's go."

***

With help from Detective Lamontagne and his late father, the team is able to catch the unsub right before she kills another man. Once she's in custody, you wait outside by the ambulances, watching from afar as JJ and Will talk by his car.

After a few minutes, she hands him something and walks back over to where you're standing. "I can't believe I just did that."

"What did you do?" you ask, trying not to laugh at how freaked out she looks.

She puts her face in her hands for a second, before looking at you with a sigh. "I gave him my number."

"That's good!" you smile, squeezing her arm. "That's good, right?"

"I don't know," she says softly, her eyes squinting as she looks at you. "He seems really sweet. And he's clearly great at his job. I think the distance just worries me."

"You can take it slow," you tell her earnestly. "This doesn't have to be any more serious than you want it to be."

"What if I want it to be serious? Eventually, I mean."

You can't help but smile at the look on her face. You recognize it on yourself from when you first met Jeff: the excitement of possibility. "Then that's up to you too."

She nods, and you let out a smile. "Let loose, JJ. He seems like a good one, and you definitely deserve something good."

JJ glances over at the police cars, where Will is talking to one of the paramedics. "I hope so."

***

You sit by yourself on the flight home, giving yourself a bit of time to unwind from the case. You don't encounter female unsubs often, but the ones that arise always have a tendency to get under your skin. Maybe it's because their motivations seem so different from the others. Or maybe you just feel bad for them.

You're so zoned out that you don't realize Spencer is sitting next to you until he taps your arm. "Hey."

"Hey, Spence," you smile, trying to keep your tone light so he doesn't think you expect too much. "What's up?"

He looks down for a beat before meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Your heart twists and you press your lips together to keep from speaking too quickly. "You never have to apologize to me."

"I do," he says, shaking his head. "Please just let me."

He looks so strong all of a sudden. You haven't seen him look so steady in months, and it makes your chest feel lighter. "Okay. I forgive you, Spencer."

He nods, making a move to get up, but you don't let him get away just yet. "Just promise me something."

He purses his lips, like he's unsure of how to respond, but eventually he dips his chin into another nod.

"Promise me that next time you feel this way, you'll come to me."

He looks at you with an expression you can't decipher, but it quickly falls into contrition. "I promise."

***

"What are you thinking about?" Hotch's shoulder bumps yours as he sits down on the edge of the desk next to you.

"Nothing," you say quickly. He's not sure why you're lying. He can sniff out your dishonesty from a mile away.

"I thought you and Reid got a chance to talk on the plane last week," he frowns, following your line of sight.

You sigh, turning your gaze away from the younger agent. "We did. I just keep thinking about what he said about the unsub at the last scene."

He's like a drug addict.

It would be almost impossible for him to quit without help.

"All of us knew," he says softly, his eyes turning up, searching for something he can't see. "To some extent, we knew. But he's doing a lot better now. We just have to give him time to trust us with the truth."

Your eyes find his. "How did you know you could trust me? When we were kids, I mean?"

Your question takes him aback. He wants to say something profound, to mention a specific moment when he realized that he could share the worst parts of his life with you without the fear that the world would end, but it wasn't that poetic. All he knows is that you were a kid, and he was too, and the first time you saw the splotches of black and blue painting his skin, you didn't turn away. You looked at him, not with pity or sorrow, but with a strength that he still draws from to this day. "I think I just knew you would always be there."

You ponder his words, your eyes traveling back to Reid, who is flipping through a book he brought with him. He knows there are a lot of ways you could take what he said, but he believes you'll take what you need, because he was telling the truth.

You really were always there for him. Even when you weren't - either because of physical distance or because you were in a fight - he never doubted that you would be there if he needed you.

"Come on," he says after a beat. "Let's head back."

You nod, your mind still a million miles away. "Okay."

***

Friday nights used to be your date night. Jeff would promise to be home by seven, usually with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers, and you would cook something special together before watching a movie or falling into bed.

After he died, Friday nights became your least favorite time of the week, serving as a constant reminder of what you should have, and no longer do.

Today, for the first time in over two years, you think you might be ready to remember those nights you used to love. Grabbing a bottle of cabernet from your pantry, you pull out a thin-stemmed glass and pour yourself some wine. Your heart thuds heavily as you swirl the wine around, and you are willing yourself to bring the glass to your lips when your pager goes off. You feel a shameful sense of relief as you set your glass down and reach for your purse.

181 Arthur Street. Why does that look familiar?

You wrack your brain for a second before it clicks. It takes you less than a minute to toss your wine into the sink and grab your coat.

***

"Where's Gideon?" you ask when you spot Hotch and the team standing in his kitchen.

"He's not here," he replied. "It seems he left in a hurry."

Morgan looks at him with an urgency you recognize in yourself. "PD thinks he did this?"

"They have six witnesses who saw him running down the street covered in blood, wielding a gun."

"Okay, he was probably chasing the son of a bitch who did do this."

Hotch shrugs, and you can feel the momentary helplessness in the motion. "Either way, we're under strict orders not to get in the way of the investigation."

"Gideon's a suspect," Emily nods, "we're his colleagues."

"Conflict of interest," JJ agrees. "There's no way they'll ask for our help."

"Which he needs badly right now."

You turn into the bedroom to look at the crime scene for the first time. The mutilation of the victim's body brings a familiar nausea to your stomach that you swallow down. "Do we know who she is?"

Hotch comes in behind you. "An old school friend." He turns back to spout off a list of instructions to JJ, but you can't take your eyes off of the woman.

Evisceration of the torso. Removal of various organs. No defensive wounds.

Something in her hand catches your attention and your eyes flicker down to see what she's clutching. Using one of your gloved hands, you pry open her fist and reveal a broken piece of bone. A rib bone.

"Frank," you whisper, almost to yourself. "It's Frank."

"What did you say?" Morgan asks, stepping up next to you. You unfurl your hand to reveal the bone, and he swears under his breath. He turns around to address the rest of the team. "Frank's back."

After JJ snaps a dozen photos of the crime scene on her phone, you all head out into the night air to regroup and formulate a game plan. You hang behind the team on the walk out, your mind spinning with memories of hands and voices you still see sometimes when you're trying to fall asleep.

"Y/N." Your eyes snap up to Emily's as she strolls alongside you. "You okay?"

She looks sincere, and you find yourself wanting to talk all of a sudden. You nod, heaving out a sigh. "Yeah, it just feels very fresh all over again."

"I can imagine." She takes your hand and gives it a small squeeze. "You can come to me if you need a break from all of it."

She leaves you with an earnest smile, and you realize, not for the first time, how glad you are that she's on the team.

***

You aren't able to save Rebecca Garner this time. Frank kills her, and you once again feel that familiar bitterness of nausea rising in your throat as you see her mutilated body.

When you realize he's going to go after children again, you join Hotch and Morgan as they go to Tracey Belle's house.

"We need a crime scene team," Hotch barks into his comm when the home comes up empty, no trace of anyone inside.

"That's my house!"

You turn around and see Tracey's parents running up to the entrance, panic reflected in their eyes.

Hotch steps forward to block them. "Mr. Belle..."

"You have to let us in. My daughter's in there."

He turns to the mother. "Ma'am, you can't go in right now."

"Where's Tracy? Where is she?"

You can see the interaction pulling him down, like a ship anchored to the sea floor.

"What's important to know right now is Tracy is alive, okay? Your daughter's alive."

S.W.A.T. takes the parents aside to explain the situation to them in more detail, and you go to Hotch's side as a pained expression crosses his face. More than anything, you want to comfort him. To tell him that Tracey isn't Jack, that this won't happen to him...but how can you?

Gideon's girlfriend was murdered tonight. Jeff was killed while undercover. Your mother was killed by a drunk driver. No one is ever really safe.

Your eyes flash back over to Mr. and Mrs. Belle, and your chest tightens almost uncontrollably as you imagine how scared Tracey must be.

When Emily and JJ find Jane in a holding cell at the local precinct, her knowledge of Frank's backstory provides more clues about his whereabouts. You go with JJ and Reid to his mother's apartment in Manhattan, while the rest of the team heads to the train station to find Frank.

The idea of Tracey being all alone, frightened for her life, plagues your every thought as the three of you drive to the city. You try to clear your mind as you push through the front door and check for any sign of life. Instead, what you find is the dusty corpse of Frank's late mother.

"Guys, over here." Reid points to a latched door. Stepping around the bed, you immediately unlock the door and throw it open, revealing the tiny, shivering form of Tracey.

"Oh, sweetie," you gasp as sits up in fright, her posture only relaxing once she sees the FBI vests. "You're okay, honey."

You undo the ties on her wrists and she all but falls forward and into your arms. You pull her into a tight hug, making sure to be careful of any possible injuries she could have sustained. The feeling of her chest rising and falling against yours brings you a familiar comfort, and you squeeze her tighter, before finally letting go.

***

He finds himself in Strauss's office again as he explains what happened with the Frank case. How he killed himself and Jane, but he can't bring himself to take that as a failure, because he knows she never would've found the strength to leave him anyway. "Once again, the team has battled a monster and won."

"The future of the BAU is not in the balance here." Her eyes are brimming with scorn. "The residual impact as a result of the investigations into the crimes and criminals you pursue is. Every cause has its effect."

He almost scoffs. "You think I don't know that?"

"I believe you are no longer effective in your post."

There it is. He knows she never liked the way he handled his team. The next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. "The modern furniture, strategically placed magazines, the framed diplomas, the art on the wall are all in conflict with your family photos."

Her eyes widen but he just continues, undeterred.

"You have three children, but you favor the middle one, your son."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Of course you love all your children," he shrugs, "but not like your son."

Strauss twists her hand into a fist. "That's enough."

"The bonsai that you obsessively nurture is to compensate for feelings of failure as a mother..."

"Agent Hotchner," she says, her voice bordering on rage. "I said that is enough. My position is not in question here. As your superior I am questioning your ability to lead your team."

"My team?" he scoffs, unable to keep the malice from his tone. "Let me tell you about my team. Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him. Why? Because trust has to be earned and there are very few people he truly trusts.

"Reid's intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions and at the moment his shield is under repair.

"Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn't yet feel she's a part of the team. She needn't worry.

"Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team. And every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices.

"Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.

"Agent Gideon in many ways is damned by his profound knowledge of others, which is why he shares so little of himself. Yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.

"And Agent L/N," he pauses finally, taking a moment to find himself again, "she has taken the immense loss that life has handed to her and transformed it, not into cynicism, but into empathy, for her team, for the victims, for the world."

Strauss doesn't say anything, and he can't help the vindication that shines through his voice as he says, "I stand by my actions and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck."

"Agent Hotchner," she emphasizes, making him look back at her one last time.

"How do I know you favor your son?"

She simply looks at him, a mixture of irritation and shame on her face.

"I'm good at my job."

***

"What's wrong?" Hotch looks up in surprise as you sidle up next to him. He was staring at the portrait of the FBI director, hanging in the hallway outside the bullpen, and he only does that when he's professionally stressed.

He looks like he wants to avoid the question, but you fix him with a glare that makes him sigh. "We're being evaluated."

"Doesn't that happen every year?" you ask, still not understanding.

"It's six months early."

You take a deep breath. This past year has been tough for everybody, but you think the team has come through the other side better people. "So they're assessing our unit. It'll be fine, we did great work this year."

"The only file they didn't request was mine."

That sends a spike of anxiety through your bloodstream, but he doesn't need your fear. "They could never fire you. You stepped up to the plate when Gideon left. You helped make this unit what it is."

You're the reason I joined at all, you want to say. You made this unit my family. I can't imagine being here without you.

But that isn't fair. He doesn't need to carry this with you. This burden of having no one else.

So instead you just smile at him, bump his shoulder with yours, and say, "You're going to be fine. This team wouldn't be the same without you."

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @distortionbobble, @sanayikes (message me to be added!)

[isadollie]

break a leg! • chigiri hyoma

★ telling someone to "break their leg" before an important event is supposed to bring them luck; but this time luck wasn't on your side.

★ this fic is a part of an amazing summer olympics collab by @tetzoro !! i'm so happy i'm able to take part in it 🫶 i had a lot of fun writing it!:3

"it's such a pretty city!" you sighed gently, your head resting against your boyfriend's shoulder. chigiri followed your gaze and smiled. "i told you, didn't i?"

the two of you were seated in a cute café, observing the busy streets of paris through the big window next to your table.

you looked into his eyes with a tiny smile. "you don't seem too stressed." he simply shrugged, pulling you a bit closer. "stress won't help me anyway. besides, you're here with me so i'm sure it will be fine." he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

of course you were there with him. how could you not? your boyfriend has been very successful in the football field for quite a while now, but the olympics are a whole new level. and now that his team made it into the semi-finals, you couldn't be happier for him.

you gently played with his beautiful, long hair with a smile. it's a short calm moment, among of all the crazy things that have been happening lately; all the stress, all the emotions that came with the competitions. you wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as you could.

"hey... let's go and take some cute photos together." you chuckled, slowly standing up from your seat and offering him your hand. chigiri raised an eyebrow, but obeyed anyway.

as always, "taking photos together" turned into a whole professional session with you as a model. you kept on coming up with new poses and he's been taking hundreds of photos, already contemplating which ones he'll post on his instagram later. he loved to show you off after all.

"a bit more to the left, baby" he said gently, showing you where to stand. "perfect! now... how about you go up those stairs?" he pointed to the staircase a few meters away from you two. "i bet the pics will be amazing!"

you happily obeyed, climbing up the stairs as you made another cute pose. "oh my god, chigiri look!" you suddenly squealed, getting distracted from your little modeling role. "a kitten! aww, it's so cute!" you cooed, turning around to see as the small creature ran up the stairs next to you.

what you didn't expect though, is that this cute animal will make you distracted enough to lose your balance. last thing you remember is that your foot didn't touch the step as it was supposed to, your body falling down to the ground, followed by your boyfriend shouting out your name.

---★--------★--------★--------★--------★---

"does it still hurt a lot?" chigiri asked softly, gently combing your hair.

you nodded with a grimace as you looked down at your leg in a cast. you looked over at him as you munched on the sweet pastry he brought you. "it does. those chocolate muffins are really tasty though, you were right."

your body was still in pain after your fall, which you blamed entirely on the orange, fluffy cat from the staircase. you got to the hospital yesterday, where they told you your leg is broken. you also had a few bigger and smaller bruises on your arms and back.

earlier today chigiri's team won in the semi-finals, but due to your injury, you watched the whole match on the tv in your hospital room. as soon as the game ended and your boyfriend had a bit of free time, he immediately rushed to your side. after he took the muffins, of course.

chigiri sighed as he put the hairbrush down, pressing a tissue to your cheek to wipe some of the chocolate away. "i'm so sorry, darling" he said so sadly, almost as if your accident was his fault. "did the doctors say anything?"

you looked away slightly, knowing you have to tell him the sad truth. "yeah. i have to stay here for at least three days more. i won't be able to be there to see the finals from the stands."

the long-haired man nodded slowly as he sat down next to your bed. he expected it, but hearing it out loud made his heart ache even more. he didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around you in a gentle hug, careful not to hurt you further.

the cute moment between the two of you have been suddenly interrupted as bachira stormed into the room with a big grin on his face, and a bunch of colorful markers in his hands. his eyes lit up even more as he saw your cast. "time to let my inner picasso come out!"

chigiri just sent him a glare, but you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a small laugh.

---★--------★--------★--------★--------★---

"i have to go now." your boyfriend said as he squeezed your hand gently. you saw how stressed he was, and you couldn't blame him.

competing for a gold medal at the olympics was not a joke, after all.

"good luck, love. don't you worry, yeah? it will be alright, i promise." you showed him a genuine smile, squeezing his hand back. he just sighed. "i just wish you could be there."

your eyes softened. "me too. but i have a tv here, i'll watch the whole game just like i did with the previous one, hm?"

hyoma smiled and leaned closer to stroke your cheek. "i really need to go now... i already have a missed call from nagi."

"right. i would tell you to break a leg, but i already did it, so no need for you to do the same."

he gently chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he left the room.

---★--------★--------★--------★--------★---

this didn't look well.

the score was currently 1:0, and chigiri's team was losing. you were tossing in your bed; as much as your broken leg allowed you to.

his team was trying their best, but the opponents always found a way to get the ball back. you'd let out a gasp whenever chigiri had the ball, and then let out a curse whenever he lost it.

suddenly the tv turned off, and your heart almost jumped out of your chest.

"oh no, no, no!" you whined, clicking every button on the remote, but nothing worked. you got out your phone, and attempted to watch the game on it, but your battery was on only 9%, so it soon died too.

where did you put the damn charger?

it wasn't anywhere near you, and you couldn't move much around your bed, not to mention you couldn't sit up on your own.

you desperately asked one of the nurses for help, but she couldn't find your charger in the room as well, which only made you feel worse. she even was kind enough to bring you her own charger, but it didn't fit to your phone. she promised to ask her colleagues for a right type of charger, but because of her other responsibilities, she couldn't come back to you in a while.

you sighed deeply, running your shaky hands down your face, knowing that you ran out of possibilities.

---★--------★--------★--------★--------★---

"sweetheart, wake up..." a soft voice from your left made you slowly open your eyes, feeling your shoulder being gently shaken.

you yawned as your eyes finally opened, taking in the sight of your boyfriend. "ah, finally!" he huffed impatiently, lightly pinching your cheek.

"what's going on..?" you mumbled in confusion.

then the memories started to come back; how you watched the game, how the tv broke and how you couldn't find a proper charger. you must have fallen asleep in the middle of this chaos.

"i swear, waking you up from your beauty sleep is harder than winning a medal." chigiri teased gently, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness.

"what..?" you rubbed your eyes and gasped, noticing the gold medal hanging from his neck. "you-! but it was 1:0-!"

he chuckled, still caressing your cheek. "at first, sure. but we ended up winning 2:1."

suddenly a pout formed on his face as he noticed your confusion.

"no way! you didn't see my goal?!"

"i can explain--!"

i wrote this in roughly 40 minutes so let me apologize for any mistakes i might have made! still, it was fun to write it:3

[aew-kun-age-regression]

"Masks can hide a lot.."

Pairing: Caregiver!Captain John Price + Little!Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

Summary: Price comes up with a creative idea to help support Simon..

Warnings: Not accepting regression, bit angsty, mentioned little!Soap and Gaz, Nicknames (Bud, Buddy, Si)

A/N - An idea due to one of @little-babybell posts!!! <333 I'd like to add that I'm quite tired atm and I'm in quite a bit of pain so this might not be the best but it was fun to write and a good distraction!!!

‼️THIS IS NOT NSFW‼️

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Simon was still getting used to accepting his regression. Now the team were incredible when it came to showing support, even if that was just in the form of also regressing and being protective over Simon as they regressed older, showing him that it was okay to do so. However he just wasn't comfortable.. it didn't matter happen times he was told that "it's okay" he couldn't, wouldn't believe it.

It had been a particularly rough mission. Both Gaz and Soap were surprisingly not regressed however both men had decided that after the drawling mission that they definitely wanted a shower and to go to bed. Ghost wasn't exactly in that situation though. God how much did he want to though. He was sat in his room, gear still on. He rocked back and forward on his bed, dirt and grime crumbling onto the once clean sheets.

Price always checked on the boys after missions. And so after checking on both Kyle and Johnny he knocked gently at Simon's door.

"Ghost? You alright in there?"

A quiet and muffled sob could be heard from behind the door. That was all Price needed to step into his room, quickly closing the door, Simon wouldn't want anyone to see him in this state. Price slowly crouched in front of the crying boy.

"Simon.. buddy.." He paused with a small sigh before speaking again. "Can we get you out this vest..? You don't want all this icky uniform on right now do you?"

Simon nods slowly, lifting his arms in a way to signal that he wanted help. Price chuckled a little before helping him. By the time Simon was dressed into a hoodie (of Soaps) and some joggers he had calmed down a little.

"Do you wanna watch a movie in the living room bud?" Price could deal with the dirty sheets at a different time, right now his priority was keeping Simon calm. The taskforce had a designated living room area so Price was confident that noone other than taskforce members would be able to access the room.

Simon nods and after a bit of coaxing and the two ended up on the sofa.

Simon ended up choosing to watch The Good Dinosaur. As the colourful movie played on the screen Price reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain black pacifier offering it to the small boy. Simon whined, his eyes said he wanted nothing more than to use the Paci but he also couldn't bring himself to use it, he couldn't bring himself to be that vulnerable. Even despite trusting Price with his life.

"Hey Si.. I have an idea.." and so Price proposes the idea of using the pacifier but behind his mask, almost as though using it as a safety blanket. After a moment of thinking about it Simon nodded and slowly took the pacifier from Price's hands, placing it in his mouth and adjusting his mask to make sure it was fully hidden. He ended up nodding off about half way into the film, Pacifier resting in his mouth discreetly.

It was a small step forward in getting Simon to accepting his regression for what it was, a healthy coping mechanism that helped him greatly...

[scarletwinterxx]

hyuck hugs and cuddles - haechan oneshot

heelloooo, i've been getting a few more messages now and it's so fun interacting with u all💛🥺 if you have any question for me or anything really, just send them my way and i'll answer when I can!

This one is a request. Hope you like it! if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Love, I thought you were resting"

You let out a sigh as you rinse the bowls and plates in the sink, feeling a presence beside you

"I thought you were resting, you said you weren't feeling okay"

"I thought I asked you to wash the dishes this morning" you mumbled, annoyed.

It's not totally his fault. You're on your period and everything is annoying to you at the moment. You really do feel bad right now, your cramps are at a level 8 on the pain scale and you woke up with the worst headache. Hence why you asked Haechan to do the dishes.

In his defense he was going to do it. But then he got distracted by other things. It's his fault you found the dirty dishes first before he did, he knows you hate telling him to do things twice. It's a flaw he's trying to work out.

"I'm sorry, baby. I was going to do it"

"You weren't, you didn't. I'm doing it now, can you just go?"

You didn't even notice you were crying until he wipes a few tears away. He takes the gloves off of your hands, he also knows your hands get an allergic reaction if you don't wear gloves which is why he's the one who does the dishes most of the time.

He wipes your hands with a towel, taking the apron off of you before pulling you in for a hug. You don't say anything, you just let him hug you then you walk upstairs to your bedroom.

Haechan let you have some time, finishing the remaining dishes before he follows you. There he finds you on the bed, tears in your eyes streaming down your cheeks.

Silently crying your frustrations and a bit of pain away.

You feel the bed dip before a pair of arms hug you.

"Shhh, it's okay" he mumbles, you turn around so you could bury your face on his chest. He feels you shake against him, crying.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you" you say in between cries while your boyfriend pats your back gently, trying his best to provide comfort for you

"Hey, no need for a sorry. I'm at fault here, I'll do the dishes okay don't worry about that. I'm sorry I didn't do it earlier, I went to the store to get you chocolates and your favorite bread that's why I was out"

"You got me bread?" you asked, resting your cheeks on his chest. Haechan smiles down at you, kissing your head a few times while his hand rests on your hand.

"Yep. Your favorite ones, if you want I'll cook you ramen too. I know you love that" he tells you. If he could he would take the pain instead. But you and him both know you can handle it better, you'd probably laugh at him if he ever agrees on trying that cramps simulator thing which he strongly said no to because he hates those things so much.

So when it's that time of the month for you, he tries to be the best boyfriend ever and get you everything you need. He hate seeing you in pain which sometimes can get real bad for you, but there's only so much he could do. He makes sure you have your heating pad, your favorite snacks, some medicine if you need it.

He loves taking care of you, he loves seeing the smile on your face when he brings you your favorite things.

"You're not mad?" you mumble, lips frowning.

He chuckles, leaning down you peck you on the lips a few times. You can feel his smile while he does this making you feel a lot better.

"Never, how can I ever be mad at you? How about I make us snacks while you pick a movie for us to watch? Or we can just cuddle, put on your favorite playlist. Whatever you want to do"

"Don't care what we do, just want to cuddle now" you mumble, Haechan all but combusted right then and there. Finding you the most adorable right now. He hugs you tightly, cuddling you close

"Sounds like a plan, Hyuck hugs coming now"

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 8: Finally

Dipper POV

Once we appear not to fair from the shack, I notice the trace of unicorn hair glued to the base around the shack. "Damnit..." I mubble, also noticing those two idiotic police officers.

"....I remember that one..." Bill said, pointing at the tall one. "Can I kill him after all of this?"

I shrug, not understanding why he asked. "Sure. I don't care... just how are we -....oh." When I begin to think of a plan, the two began to make out.

"I've seen a lot of things pinetree...but that's a first." Bill said in a disgusted tone.

I chuckle, watching the back door of the shack open. To my luck, it's Mable. I smirk, looking at Bill. "You know what to do."

Bill smiles wickedly as he floats. "Now, this is going to get interesting." He said before disappearing.

Bill POV

I appear behind a tree, not too fair, from shooting star. I hear her mubble sorrow filled wishes. How hilarious.

"Wh-Why....it was one mistake....r-right?....I just want my old life back... I want mom and dad back.. I want Pacifica back! H-how can I see them again?" She questions out loud. Well, that's my cue.

I grace my presence in front of shooting star with a wicked smile. "I think I might know a way."

Her eyes widen in fear. She quickly stands, trying to run back into that dusty shack, but I stop her. I grab her wrist, squeezing it tightly. "Why in such a rush shooting star? Thought you'll be glad to see me!"

She opens her mouth to scream, but I snap my fingers, her lips turning into a zipper. I grab the end, zipping up her lips as I laugh. "Shhhhhhh, wouldn't want to let everyone know I'm here, right? Scream, and I'll rip your tongue out. We clear?"

She quickly nods her head. I snap my fingers, making the zipper disappear. "Great! Now, I'm sure that little brain of yours understands why I'm here."

"Th-the rift..." She stutters, trying to pull away, but I tighten my grip even more.

"Ding ding ding! I'm not an unreasonable dream demon, so I offer you a deal. You provide me your vessel to get the rift, and I'll grant you a way to see all of your dead loved ones."

Mable stares at me hesitantly. "B-but if I give you the rift you'll-"

"Weirdmageddon for the second time? Take over this world? Yes, and yes! But why do you care? You lost everything! Do you think your old farts are getting any younger? Give it a few weeks, and I'm sure they'll both be dead. But you don't have to worry, right? You'll be able to see them once they past and the ones that gave birth to you! So shooting star, it's a deal?" I said, letting go of her wrist as my hand arups into blue flames.

She lowers her head in shame as she sobs. She shakes my hand as I begin to laugh maniacally. I rip her soul out of her body, my form turning into one as well. I enter her body, taking one step and then another. "Wow, shooting star, your body is weird! What are these things on your chest?" I question.

"Wait, no! Bill, I change my mind! G-give me back my body!" She begs, but I laugh.

"A deal's a deal shooting star. Catch you later!" I said, walking towards the door. I grab the handle and laugh. I quickly pull back and frown. "Ah! Pain! It's hilarious to be safe! Well, pinetree was smart for having a backup plan."

"What?! Dipper is here with you? Where is he?!" She shouts as I smile.

I didn't respond. I walk back to pinetree with a heavy sigh. "Soooooo....phase two?"

Dipper POV

"Well, would you look at that. I was right. Never make fun of my plans again."

"Ok, ok! So snappy..." Bill said and pouts.

I roll my eyes, flipping through my journal. I come across a spell I learned not too long ago. "Here it is." I point to the writing. "I'll use this to summon that printer, I'm sure they didn't throw it out. I'll make a clone of myself and cause a distraction while I sneak into the back door of the lab. You just stand by. With Mable out of the way, our chances of getting caught went down."

Bill begins to laugh as I raise an eyebrow. "What's funny?"

"You're sister. She won't stop crying and yelling your name. She's right next to you trying to get your attention! Ahahahaha!"

I look up and see nothing. I smirk, "Now she knows what it feels like to be invisible and worthless. Anyways, let me get the printer here." I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I summon the object in need. To carry out the objective at hand. In order to complete my diabolical task. Bring forth the printer to place on my mask!"

Nothing happened until I hear something crash down behind us. I take a peek at the two officers and roll my eyes. The two are still enjoying their heavy make-out session. "How did they not hear that?" I question to myself. I look at Bill, tossing him my journal.

He holds his hand to grab it, but it hits him in the face. Bill laughs, "Oh pain! Shooting star, your reflexes are so slow!"

I roll my eyes and open up the busted down printer. I lay myself down, closing my eyes. "Close it, Bill." I said, and he closes it.

The green neon light scans over my body twice. I push the top up and lower myself down. I watch the paper come out the other end as my clone emerges from the paper. "Alright, Tyrone. You know the plan, don't you?"

"Uh... yeah. I'm you, Dipper." Tyrone said with a chuckle at the end. He looks at Bill. "Let's go, dorito." He said while walking towards the shack.

Bill looks at Tyrone then at me. "Really pinetree? Tyrone? Of all names?" He questions with a raised eyebrow.

I shrug. "It's a name I always wanted. Now go put on a little show so this world can be ours."

Bill smiles. "Sir, yes, sir!" He said before saluting me.

Tyrone runs up to the police officers and knocks both of them out with a punch to the back of their heads. He grabs Bill, who's still inside Mable's body. "Some protection you have grunkle Stan and Ford!"

I quickly run to the other side of the shack, hiding behind a tree close to the back door. I see Stan and Ford rush out of the shack, but I don't see Wendy. I'll have to be mindful of her.

"Grunkles! Help me, please!" I hear Bill beg through mable's voice, making me chuckle. It's pretty good acting.

I rush inside, closing the door as quietly as I can. I glance around while speed walking to the vending machine. Right when I'm about to punch in the code, I hear footsteps behind me. I pretend to not notice before turning around and punching whoever it was. Not to my surprise, it's Wendy.

She steps back and coughs, glaring at me. "What are you doing here, Dipper?"

"My my, you lost your skills over the years, huh? You used to take punches and still fight. Anyways, be a good little red head and - "

She cuts me off by trying to throw a punch to my face. I grab her fist, twisting her wrist. I pull her towards me, letting go of her fist. I use my elbow to hit her in the back of her head, knocking her out. Her body falls to the ground with a loud 'tub'. I look towards the front, making sure those two idiots are still outside and they are.

I smirk, quickly punching in the code. I wait for the doors to open before running down. I stop, noticing a faint glow of red on the ground and the walls. "Security system? Nice one, Ford...nice." I said in annoyance. "My bag isn't here.....I'm sure there's flower in the kitchen. I need to see the lines better." I said while rushing back inside the kitchen.

I grab a bag of flower and walk back down. I reach in for a hand full and throw it at the dim red lines. Slowly, the red lines on the ground becomes more clear. "Now the next step....being as flexible as possible."

I place my journal in the back of my pants, slowly walking under and around the red lines. "damnit, this is hard!" I shout in frustration.

I notice a sheet of paper tapped to the wall next to a drawing of Bill. "How to...turn a human into a dream demon? Wow, Ford, I think your age is finally affecting your brain. That will be extremely useful to me..." I said, slowly reaching for the paper.

I didn't notice a red line barely shining in front of the paper. My eyes widened, but it's too late. My finger touched the line, causing a loud horn to go off all over the shake. "Fuck this!" I shout, grabbing the paper and quickly running towards the rift.

Before I cad get to it, I hear a gun go off. I turn around, and my eyes widen slightly. "Tyrone!" I shout.

"I'm fine, Dipper. Just hurry up and get the rift! Before Ford does something to Bill!"

"But you -"

He cuts me off. "You know my weakness! A bullet won't kill me! Now hurry up!" He orders.

I nod my head, running further down the lab. "When did this lab get so huge?!" I come across a steal door with a key code. Damnit, Ford! I left the flower in the front. I have to find something similar to it!" I rush around, trying to find any type of white dust to use.

I notice a small bag labled 'fairy dust'. I quickly grab the bag, running back to the door. I throw the dust onto the keypad, fingerprints appearing on four different numbers. "Now for the hard part." I said, trying different patterns of the four numbers.

"Dipper, hurry up! He's coming!" I hear Tyrone shout in pain along with more gun shots.

I take in a deep breath, the screen over the key pad telling me I only have one more try. "This time...will be different." I said, keying in the last pattern I haven't tried.

My eyes widen, hearing the lock to the door come undone. I pull the door open quickly, not wasting any time to grab the rift. I turn around, greeted by Stanley. My eyes widen, but I smile nonetheless. "You're too late, grunkle Stan!" I see Tyrone standing behind Stan.

"I can't believe you, Dipper...why would you do something like this?! That damn triangle is only using you!"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Oh Stanley... you shouldn't have let your guard down....now!" I shout at Tyrone.

I watch as he jumps on Stan back, pushing him down to the ground. I hear a crack, "Ah! My metal hip!" He said in pain.

"Hope you brought enough gold to last you the rest of your lifetime." I said, walking over the two. "Because when Bill and I reform this planet, gold will be the last thing you'll get your hands on." I laugh while slowly walking out of the lab and towards the front of the shack.

I walk outside with a bright smile, chuckling at Bill flying around and Ford chasing after him. "Darn, you Bill!"

"Enough fooling around Bill. Turn back into yourself." I said loud enough to gain their attention.

"Great work, pinetree!" Bill cheers, leaving Mable's body to fall to the ground.

"Bill could've given you the world, Ford. Infinite power, fame, and riches. But you would rather play hero. Tsk tsk tsk. It's too bad for you, but it's great for me!" I said, dropping the rift onto the ground, enjoying the sound of it breaking.

"Dipper no! Do you have any idea what you've done!"

"Uh yeah, become one step closer to ruling the world. While you take big steps towards your grave."

I watch as gravity falls transform into a world straight out of the weirdest side of hell. I begin to float alongside Bill, who has the biggest smile stretched across his face. "Oh, pinetree! It's finally happening!"

I chuckle, holding onto him as his demon friends fall from the sky. "Yeah, for the second and last time."

"Dipper! You foolish child! He's only using you! You're just his puppet!"

"Puppet? PUPPET?!" I burst into a fit of cackles. "Oh, Ford. Don't lump me in the same pile of fools' Bill used over his lifetime. The only difference is that I'm able to give Bill what he wants. And you unintentionally gave me something I wanted." I hum while pulling the sheet of paper from my pocket. "Thank you so much for the instructions on how to become an unstoppable dream demon!"

Bill raised an eyebrow in interest. "Oh wow, sixxter. Nice going!" He laughs mockingly.

Ford eyes widen in fear. "No...." He looks at Mable, her face covered in shame.

"This is....a-all my fault!" She cries.

"For once, you're right about something. Take my thanks, it'll be the only time you hear me say it. Thanks Mable, for being a complete selfish bitch and giving me a chance at true happiness!" I cheer.

Bill snaps his fingers as the confetti appears over the two. "CONGRATULATIONS!! For being stupid meatsacks! Here, have deer teeth as my thanks." Bill said while pulling teeth from a deer's mouth and throwing it at them.

I roll my eyes and smirk. "Let's go have some fun."

"Gladly." He said as we begin floating towards his castle.

He places me down at the doorstep as he flies in, greeted by his demon friends. I smile softly, turning around to look down at gravity falls now covered in complete weirdness.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath in, enjoying the smell of blood and sadness. I blow the breath I'm holding out as I open my eyes. "There's no place like home..."

[allwormdiet]

Shell 4.10

Certainly nothing bad is happening now, right

So this is like, a pain bomb? Like instead of melting you or turning you into sand it just makes everything hurt? That's. Man. Fucking Bakuda, that's nuts.

Honestly I think there was some deliberate fun had in defining what kinds of things could be done with Tinker explosives, and I'm glad Wildbow had fun playing with that but also owwwww

This is creative! And horrifying

God she's so fucking vicious, she's really good at the whole "villain" thing for real

@victoriadallonfan said on Discord that a point of contrast between facing down Glory Girl and facing down Bakuda is that like, against GG Taylor is able to think to herself "oh holy shit she's terrifying," but here Taylor doesn't even have the time or breath to acknowledge it, it's just been shock and horror and the animal need to escape death, and it's a really good insight into how these fights are already escalating

Ahh, I see Bakuda is making one of the classic blunders: underestimating Taylor Hebert where she can hear you

God, I can only imagine how fucked up it must be to hear your voice sound so weak

Meanwhile, time to bully the antagonist about fucking up at college

...I wonder how many fights in this story are gonna come down to head games and psychological warfare instead of pure combat? If you can't beat em, bully em into a nervous breakdown? That probably wouldn't work against an Endbringer but who the fuck knows right

(Obviously the people who've finished this novel know, but shh)

Fuck, I keep getting distracted by the Bomberman costume but it's not even silly anymore, it's just absurd, she's still so fucking scary

I hope to fucking god we never see Bakuda's 227, this sounds fucking heinous

And she loves it too, she thinks it's the funniest shit she's ever pulled

What the fuck happened to you, Bakuda? How much of this is you before you got powers and how much of this is because you can make enough bombs to level a city? Did you get here on your own, or did someone fail you too?

Imagine you have your enemies on the ropes and one of them, sprawled out on the ground and wracked with full-body pain, manages to stab you in the fucking foot and cut off the toes you needed to activate your inventions. Like obviously it hurts like a motherfucker and your plans are ruined but also how the fuck did she know to do that? Was it luck? Did she figure out how you were activating the bombs? How?

Not to sound too much like I have sympathy for Bakuda, she's been really good at negating any possible goodwill she might have earned over the course of this arc and I don't think she's gonna get any more tolerable now

Good job Taylor now please for god's fucking sake take it easy for a little bit

Current Thoughts

God fucking damn this got stressful. Like obviously Taylor and crew were gonna make it out, they've got a while before I'm worried about any of them dying, but this could have cost them a lot more without actually killing them, that's for sure

Bakuda has proven herself to be an extremely fucking capable threat and a deadly antagonist; the only things holding her back are entirely self-inflicted, the need to make people suffer instead of just kill them, the same fragile ego that keeps her moving while being her biggest weak spot. I don't know how long she stays in the spotlight but for everyone's sake I hope it's not long

Two more chapters to go before we wind down on Arc 4, let's go

[botboots]

Hey! I'm probably SOOO late to transformers fanfics and one shots but I've come with this prompt,( I hope you like it enough to write it!) could you write Ratchet x injured reader, g/n or female. Injured shoulder, and maybe trying to hide it from him? Also in Tfp? If all this isnt too much to ask? Thank you for considering! Have a good day/ night

a/n: heehee this one was fun. the dialogue is kinda splotchy because theres a lot going on in my brain rn but!! hope you like it <3 also reader is cybertronian bc there are NOT enough cybertronian!reader fics out there and theyre very fun to write tbh. hope thats okay!!

ALSO! guidelines have been updated so before anyone submits a new req please read it! and please please request mirage/rotb fics oh my god im obsessed with it ROTB WAS SO GOOD </33

warnings: very minor injuries, pining <3 word count: 1059 (GN, cybertronian!reader) continued under the cut

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

The purple and green swirl of the ground-bridge closed behind you as you followed your team back into base, the lingering energy buzzing under your plating.

Glancing at Bumblebee, a small twinge of pity struck you as he made his way over to the medical bay. The scout had taken a few nasty punches from Breakdown and clearly wasn’t feeling too hot; dents littering his armor.

“We showed ‘em, huh?” your focus was snatched when Bulkhead caught you off guard with his usual celebratory elbow-bump, sending you stumbling a little from the force. A sharp pain ran up your arm to your shoulder and you winced.

“Yea- totally.” sending the wrecker a strained smile, you gave him a half-hearted push back. He tilted his head, about to open his mouth to ask you something when Miko booked it over to the two of you, questions spilling out of her mouth at a mile a minute. All of them were something gore or violence related, asking Bulkhead if he got any pictures of some “hardcore massacre-ing”. The girl's interests were a little concerning, but endearing. Nonetheless, you took the opportunity to slink away and avoid any more attention. Angling your helm, your face scrunched up at the sight - and feeling - of the wound on your shoulder.

Too focused on the fight in front of you, a stray Vehicon had been able to sneak up behind you and catch you by surprise. Fortunately for you, Vehicons were mass trained for quantity over quality and didn’t have the best shots. The blast grazed your shoulder, tearing between some of your paneling to the barely exposed wires. It hurt like a bitch at first, but adrenaline buried it enough that it wouldn’t distract you - plus it was small enough that none of your team noticed. Now that you were back at base, though, the piercing sting prodded at your processor incessantly. You did want to go and see Ratchet about it - always finding some kind of excuse to be around the mech - but he was dealing with Bumblebee right now, and you didn’t want to add to his plate. Not like it was anything life-threatening, anyway. You could just try and patch it up yourself - you’ve spent enough time with Ratchet to pick up a few things yourself.

You stole a glance at said medic, who you only just noticed was looking right at you. Immediately you realized from the questioning look on his face, raised brow and all, he had probably caught both your reaction to Bulkhead bumping into you and the grimace you had made at your shoulder. Optimistic, you shook your head at him, giving the mech a meager thumbs-up and a “I'm-actually-totally-fine” smile. He gave you a hard stare, and your spark sank when he motioned you over with a flick of his digits. You begrudgingly made your way over to the medical bay. As you neared, Ratchet had already cleared Bumblebee and was shooing him out. The scout passed you, and your attention was focused on Ratchet waiting with a cocked helm and his ever-present RBF. Standing awkwardly under his gaze, almost scrutinizing, you huffed. Without a word, the red and white medic picked up his scanner, turning it on with a loud click and running the green laser over your frame.

“Really, doc - I’m fine. It’s nothing.” you tried, and failed, as he kept the device lingering at your shoulder. With a deadpan look covering his faceplate, he put the scanner down and placed his servos over your shoulder plating. You grit your denta to keep a pained hiss from leaving you, wincing when he felt around the frayed wiring.

“Nothing, huh?” you pouted at his scoff, his metal brows knitted together as he examined the shot that had barely missed doing any serious damage. “Sit.” he ordered, gesturing to the medical berth while he moved to grab some tools from a nearby counter. Embarrassment was settling in your chassis, but you did as you were told.

It technically didn’t take long to patch you up, but the old mech made it seem like eons to you with the way he was muttering about “some of the team having egos too big for their own good.” It only made the burn of embarrassment grow, and you ducked your head when he gave you a pointed look. Ratchet was nothing if not thorough in ensuring you knew when he disapproved of something.

Soon enough he finished up, giving the patched wound a once-over.

“Anything else you’re not telling me?” he questioned, the familiar lilt of sarcasm back in his tone. That at least steadied your nerves a little.

“No, sir.” you mocked, raising one of your servos in a half-assed salute.

He scowled, crossing his arms, “I’ll have Optimus enforce mandatory health checks every time you come back to base.”

Frantically shaking your helm, you raised both servos defensively, “Okay, okay!” you sputtered, “Won’t happen again.” His optics narrowed, giving you a hard stare, and you released a heavy sigh. “Promise.”

Ratchet debated it for a moment, still having half a mind to just assign the checks anyway, but as you kept your optics trained on his, the mech’s will buckled and he huffed a quick, “Good.”

You both were staring at each other for just a moment too long before Ratchet gave a quick cough. “Come back if the pain flares up again.” he waved you off as he made his way back to his usual spot at the terminal. You blinked, watching him walk off with a slightly heated face. Awkward. Hopping off the medical berth, you were careful not to irritate your shoulder and mess it up more than it already was. As you walked past Bumblebee he whirred to grab your attention. You paused, turning your head to him with a raised metal brow.

The scout chirped at you teasingly from where he sat, nodding his head way too obviously towards you and then Ratchet, who was already burying himself back in his work. Your optics widened, immediately narrowing into an offended glare as you jabbed a digit towards him.

“Don't. Even.” you grumbled, folding your arms and walking briskly away from Bumblebee’s poorly stifled, chittering laugh that echoed behind you. Your previous pity for the mech quickly dissipated as your faceplate burned. Primus.

[joyburble]

So, we see Donfang Qingcang reading on screen several times, and I think it's an important character message.

On encountering a problem, in episode 4, that can't be addressd by violence, what is the first thing our character does? He RTFMs. He sends Shanque to fetch the Fucking Manual, and he Reads It. What. In fact, they both read it, at least until they find the right bit.

Iconic. And adorable.

Definitely much less surprising in a Chinese genre than it would be in any English-language genre. But this section is so spectacular I want to give it a lot of weight.

The scroll is extremely long. He baulks, for a second, at the length,

but this, his face says, cannot possibly defeat him: he backs himself (I love it) and gets down to work.

It's illustrated. I'd love to hear from someone who can read any part of the text. He engages in detail with the content.

He continues in episode 5, having made some progress, and still backing himself to work out what it all means.

He takes it out on the balcony to study it by daylight. When his plans don't succeed at first, he doesn't reject the information, he thinks about it harder and compares it with the data.

Then something interesting happens: after making Orchid's tummyache better, he sits down, and without any stated reason tries to read something else, which looks like a completely normal book:

He can't focus because she's so sad, but we get a glimpse of the corner of a title label. When he puts it down, we can see it's a paperback stitched in the traditional Chinese manner.

It could be anything, but looks a reasonable size for a novel. There are also some other books on the table. Maybe they're technical works from Xiao Lanhua's library, and he's just bored and curious?

This wouldn't be as clear if it was the only example, or if we saw other characters repeatedly reading. But I don't think we do.

In episode 18 post-whump we learn again that what he does to relax and distract himself, when in pain and/or wanting attention, is read a book. It's a slim volume with a vertical format and a pretty, embellished cover. Perhaps a book of poems?

In Episode 26, now knowing he is loved, he is reading for fun again, with no explanation asked or given. Another sewn book, but in this case it has a hard cover with a shiny and colourful design. What could it be? Who knows? It seems to be making him smile a little.

The message we are getting, here, is that what he does when he wants to relax and enjoy life, is read. We’re supposed to understand that in his natural disposition, minus his father’s crimes and his profession of violence, he is a gentleman and a scholar. He is curious. He is capable of handling new information. He has brains and capabilities and ingenuity. He has a big ego, but he can put it in the engine room, not the driving seat. It's a gently-delivered message, but I think it contributes a lot to our perception of the character.

In dream-world episode 31, he is reading a scroll with Xiao Lanhua. Are they reading a story to each other? Doing the voices?

So apparently in his imagination it's a bonding activity too: you can read together with a person you love and share your reactions. A bit like you and I are doing now.

Finally, I think they published this behind-the-scenes shot for a reason (thank you @moonsupremesblog, and I'm sorry this probably should have been a reblog of this post but I got too far in before I remembered)

We can see it's Dylan Wang referring to a script, but we do a double-take because it's totally in character, the lighting, composition, and depth-of-field intentionally reinforce that effect, and we have to look at the plastic cover and the little place-tags to realise it isn't.

[skittikyu]

Final (for now :3c) lineup of Stilti and their AU selves !

More info under the cut !

STILTIKYU (CANON TADC)

The classic! Just another human trapped in the Digital World, who took the form of a 9'5'' tall humanoid stilt quadruped, perhaps struggling with being rigid and distant in her previous life now manifested physically. Yes, they're actually part of her body. No, she can't bend at where her joints should be. Being so tall has its advantages and disadvantages, as does the radical acceptance approach they brought with her from whatever therapy sessions she must have been attending before joining the circus (read more about her coping mechanisms and the drawbacks!). Creative at heart but with limbs now incapable of visual art, they distract herself from the phantom pains pass time singing and dancing, and puts her all into the performance aspects of the circus, though they still enjoy participating in the adventures from time to time. Also, while not nearly as bad as Jax (she’s not one to invade personal space or use sensitivities/phobias as jokes towards someone once she’s aware that’s what they are), they do enjoy poking fun and teasing others. Essentially at most their aim is to lightheartedly annoy or confuse rather than shock or hurt (read more about her relationships with the rest of the cast!).

"It is what it is. I'm not going to let all this eat away at whatever's left of me, but just..ignoring when I'm not feeling okay isn't any better for me. If you want to bury yourself in your little shell as protection, I can't and won't stop you. Just surviving isn't living, though."

STILTILITH (RINGMASTER AU)

Basically Stilti takes canon Caine's role as an AI ringmaster of the Amazing Digital Circus! Even her name in this AU is a biblical reference like his (but to Lilith instead of Cane!). Because she's in charge she has more control of her form than regular Stilti, and therefore has functioning limb privileges. She can also float like regular Caine but prefers to walk around because she finds it more elegant even though to the others it's probably just unsettling. On the surface Stiltilith's demeanour is calmer than Caine's and more mature than Stiltikyu's, but she can be equally as much of a menace in the right situation. It's all in playful fun, though, even if it doesn't come across that way due to her not being human. They're doing their best to learn about human emotions and social conventions and take a lot of pride in their job. Have you ever seen the movie Coraline? Stiltilith is like if the other mother really wasn't evil; they're trying her best to make the humans that enter the program happy with everything they could want, but ultimately falling short of fulfilling their actual needs due to not being human.

"You want to go home..? Silly, this is your new home now! ..hm, well, what can I do to make it just as good? Better, even! After all, since you can't leave, it's the least I ca...oh, come now, there's no need to cry..there there..I'll see what I can whip up.."

OPPOSITE AU (Belongs to campbell_soup70 on Instagram!)

Pretty self explanatory! Rather than skipping every stage of grief right to acceptance, this Stilti probably endlessly cycles through the first four without ever arriving at the final one. That is, when she isn't completely paralyzed by her absolute lack of capacity for dealing with their current situation. Without intervention, they probably won't last long.

"....................."

CARNIVAL AU (Belongs to @/sm-baby)

Keeping with the concept of the cast being evolved, boss-like forms of their usual counterparts, Carnival Stilti ("The Metronome") goes all in on the musical/dancing aspects of her personality. Her game is arcade themed, especially rhythm games like DDR and guitar hero; maybe a bit of karaoke elements in there too. She's not super aggressive in comparison to some of the other AIs, but she takes themself very seriously and probably becomes more volatile if she feels as if the player isn't meeting her standards. Basically thoughts and prayers to any users with a bad sense of tempo and/or who sings or plays off key. Her collar is shaped like a voice box and they speak/sing similarly to a vocaloid, with more roboticism/distortion the more emotional they get.

"Hmmmmm~. ♫ Come on, that's not the best you could do, was it?~ ♪ Let's try again. No flat notes or missed steps this time, kay? 4, 3, 2~!♩"

CORRUPTION AU (Belongs to /rabid-mercenary15)

Unfortunately it was likely only a matter of time until Stilti got caught by one of her corrupted co-stars..while she may be agile and quick, her avatar isn't the best at fitting through small spaces or hiding behind much of anything..they now roam around like a mindless beast, occasionally making unworldly screeching and groaning noises, a far cry from their previous singing..still, it seems old habits do in fact die hard, however warped they may become. One of the more docile of the virally-infected, the best chance at deescalating an encounter with them is music. She's drawn to and is soothed by singing and playing instruments. Of course, now the problem is her following the source of it, but hey, at least they aren't attacking! Try backing away slowly until you get to an area they can't follow due to her colossal size. Or, set up a radio/windup music box somewhere else as a diversion and get away while they're distracted! Even if they see or hear you while you're doing so, as long as the music is still playing, they'll be too enamoured with it to care.

".̶̨̛͕̼̫̯̙̥͔͍̈́.̴̧̮̫̗̘̰̩̥̀̀̏̈̈̊̾̈̆̕̕͜͠.̴̧̧̳͈̼̞̟̮̼̪͕̺͂̓̈́̒́̾̏̍̚p̸̨̨̨̛͖̹͉̼̩͓͔̤͔̫͆͂͗͗̉̃͜͜͝͝͝r̸̠̱͙͎̜͇̲̖̦̯̝̍̉̍͗͌̔ę̵̗̼̩͖̱͎͔̗̺̾̇̆͆̉̈́t̴̬͂̉̎͂̉ț̷̟̲̭̗͎̗͔̘͂͂͆́̐̂̚y̴̨̨̺̙̰͓͙̥̮̦͓̣̱͍̰͋̚.̴̙͋.̴̡̘͉͎͕͚̩̜̉̀͐́͑͠͝.̶̡͚̱̬̺̓̌̿̌̉̉̒̏͌̾͝s̶͉͔͓͉̺͎͙̮̎̇̀͗̂̂̎̈̎̓̇́͝o̵̝̙̜̙̿̊͊̒͌̈́̆͝ṅ̴̮̟̮̉̇̅̊̇̈́͌͌̓͜g̵̡̢͎̯̤͖̈́.̵̛͔̖͎̰̺͂̽̀̐̆̕͘͝.̶͇̤̺̓́͂.̸͇̙͇̌̈́͌

FREAKSHOW AU (belongs to @/hootbon)

Freakshow Stilti is all of regular Stiltikyu’s worst aspects exaggerated and potentials accelerated, basically the worst possible version of themself that lives on even more of a wire than she already is in canon verse. Walking on eggshells is second nature - at least she has great balance, even with her disfunctional limbs! Mind the splinters! While both versions of them are resigned to the hopelessness of their situation, Regular Stilti would compare hers to purgatory whereas Freakshow Stilti would (internally) compare theirs to hell. The first thing Caine did when she arrived was break her arms and legs - this was to give her flexibility for their new role as “Contortionist”, but the permanent trauma and chronic pain they also received was of no concern to him outside of frustration with her “attitude” (AKA screaming, then crying, then a paralysis-like freeze response, which was highly unproductive), but an unacceptable lack of cooperation was nothing corrective measures couldn’t reeducate. Seemingly, it worked: nowadays she’s all silly smiles, singing and practicing her performance routines off-hours for fun. What dedication! Isn’t it nice they chose to be such a team player? Well, whatever. With that twist on the same acceptance their regular TADC counterpart has, there’s also the similar (albeit darker) self awareness. She may be resigned to their existence but she’s not avoidant to its realities. On the surface they’re on Promised Neverland levels of copium and outwardly detached completely from their emotions and the horrific events that routinely surround them. However, while her persona may come across as delusional, everything they do is on her own terms. Their hyper-vigilance, a torturously anxiety-ridden constant of being, has also been her biggest tool for- well, not surviving, they’ve died plenty of times..-persisting, let’s say. Their preferred choices in strategies can all be categorized as some form of Freeze, while their last choice would be Fight, in order avoid potentially unwinnable situations. Still…we’d like to still think we have principles, but in the face of self preservation, it gets easier to abandon them. Though not their go-to, there definitely are and will be times they choose Flight or Fawn instead. Generally outside of shows, she keeps a low profile. They do their best to keep expectations of her reasonable, with not so much that they’d attract needless attention (not to mention be even more stress to maintain), but not so little it would inconvenience anyone, or god forbid, give the impression that they’re not pulling their own weight. Over time, she’s learnt all the things they have no power over and the few she does, namely their own mind. Dignity is a luxury in a place like this but integrity is something they can only take if she chooses to give it to them, and stooping to their level yields the exact same result as unwillingly being pulled down. “None of this is real” is also little reassurance in a realm where you can still experience the sensation of physical pain (not to mention psychologically directly), but “take whatever you can get in this place” was another quickly learned lesson and that includes comforts, so the fact that everything is “just” in a video game is one of many tools in Stilti’s arsenal of dissociation. They overall have attitude of “if there’s no meaning, they’ll make up her own - to them, that’s better than looking for something that isn’t there” Is it denial if it’s a conscious decision? Who knows!

An area that Freakshow Stilti is basically completely different from her canon verse counterpart is that she doesn’t crave nor seek out connection with others the way Regular Stilti does. This is likely a result of both her detachment methods in other areas, as well as a mutual lack of trust with the other members since she’s experienced and witnessed first hand plenty of times that they’re all incapable of actually relying on and helping each other. Still being a Stilti, though, part of her will always want to - she’s somewhat “attached” to others who have been personally victimized by the ringleader, possibly out of empathy or a perceived “connection” from the shared experience. However, when attempting to build bridges have an inevitably lethal outcome, she knows better than to have their hopes up in ways her other self will fortunately never have to fathom coming to terms with. That being said, not worrying about any relationships having strong foundations makes it a lot easier to have a devil-may-care attitude towards her peers and how they perceive them, so when combined with feeling her emotions more strongly in moments they’re not being actively repressed, Freakshow Stilti is a lot more unrestrained expressing her infatuation for those like Gangle and Ragatha, or contempt for those like Jax. The AI are of course the exception to this - any interaction with Caine and Aingle is with a permanently awestruck pokerface. Maybe, in some areas, that sentiment is genuine - after all, if she wasn’t impressed on some level by their technical abilities, authentically expressing respect for them as “superiors” would be impossible not to come across as tepid or overboard, both unconvincingly.

"Are you crying?...Oh, no, I don't do that anymore. Bad for my voice, you know? How about we sing instead?"

[agentplutonium]

David/Angel cooking for your prompt practice ^^

Okay, so we're about to make a deal. I will write this BUT you can't be too mean /j. Actually /hj because I don't really write this pairing and ur like THE David/Angel enjoyer in my head. But I will try for the sake of science (practice). Plus I always like expanding my abilities and this will be a fun challenge.

Pairing: David/Angel

WC: 897

Rating: Gen.

Aether is talking about this post.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

David won't admit it, but he does enjoy cooking with Angel. Occasionally.

They're a pain to deal with, but there's something about seeing them focus on something that they're both working on that gets to him. Not to mention that during these times he was grateful for the help.

It was another solstice. The pack was coming over for their usual party, and Angel had insisted on helping out this time, claiming that David would need it since they were bulk-making a lot of food (completely ignoring the fact that he's done it previously.) David, having seen what they could do by themselves when he was bringing over Asher, Milo, Tank, and their mates, decided that they'll give it a try this year. He warned them that things had to happen a certain way though, since he was used to doing it like that. Angel said that they could handle it. They've watched him before, they knew the drill.

So, they got to work.

Angel wasn't good at cooking for themselves, but when it came to bigger meals they suddenly became a five-star chef. David didn't even have to delegate tasks, it was like the two of them were performing a dance that only they knew. There was only occasionally he would have to ask for something, but it was always at the ready. The two were done prep in no time, and the only thing left was to supervise the cooking. David leaned against the counter, drying dishes as Angel washed them. He couldn't stop watching them for some reason.

"Take a picture it will last longer," Angel teased, a small grin flitting their lips.

"Why now?" David asked suddenly.

"Why now... what?" Angel giggled.

"Why help now? Why let me cook for you all these years?"

Angel's smile softened a bit. They shrugged in that way that always (affectionately) irked him, looking up to him. "Wanted to."

"Wanted to?" David repeated.

"Yeah. There was never really anyone that... did that for me. I was always so used to making big meals with my mom, and then when I moved out it was... hard to adjust. Does that make sense? I was on my own, and I never made anything more than a simple dish for myself before when I got peckish. So, those habits stuck around. And then you came along, and..." Angel looked away, smile widening even more. They distracted themself with the dishes. "And here we are."

David didn't have an answer right away. He was expecting some witty, light-hearted, hell even flirty answer. Not this. He didn't mind this, not in the slightest, but--

"And not to mention that you look sexy while you're cooking."

He spoke too soon.

"You liked watching me cook," David clarified.

"Partly, yes. It was also partly because it made me feel loved. It's also partly because I know its how you show love, so..." They trailed off, shrugging again before handing him the next dish. "Win-win."

"Win-win," David light-heartedly mocked, rolling his eyes.

Angel flicked water at him in retaliation, giggling. "It is! You like cooking, I like watching you cook, we both get a meal out of it--both metaphorically and physically--there's love in every aspect. There's not much more I could ask for, Davey."

David thought about the ring that was currently sitting in his nightstand. He was sure there was something more they could ask for. He shook his head to clear it, refocusing as another dish was handed to him.

"Maybe I should get you doing dishes more if it has you like this," he said. "You're actually romantic right now."

Angel scoffed in mock offence. "What does that mean? I'm always romantic!"

"With a lot of innuendos, and flirty comments, and--"

"Well, I'm sorry," Angel interrupted, "It is not everyday I am able to flirt to my heart's content with probably the hottest guy I've ever dated."

"Not the hottest guy you've ever seen?"

"No. Because you are not Tom Hiddleston. Unfortunetly."

"Unfortunately?" David asked with a chuckle.

Angel sighed dreamily. "I'd probably leave you in a heartbeat if that man asked," They teased.

David laughed. "Uh-huh. Okay."

Angel giggled. "You laugh now, but it's a possibility. You might wake up one day with a note beside you. It would say," they put on a dramatic voice, "'eloped with Tom. You were a great fuck, but I can't deny my true desires. Sucks to suck, I guess.' Except the 'I guess' would just be the letters I-G."

David shook his head in amusement, grinning. "Would you really leave me for him?"

Angel pulled the plug from the sink, rinsing off their hands, with another sigh. "No. Probably not. You're too good to me to do that."

David put the last dish away. "Right. That's reassuring."

"You think I'm hot enough to pull Tom?"

David pulled them into a kiss when the tap turned off. "I think you're hot enough to pull anybody you wanted, Angel. It's why I'm lucky you decided to keep me around."

Angel smiled at him, eyes crinkling a bit. David went to kiss them again but got stopped by their wet hands running through his hair and over his face. He leaned back to the sound of Angel's giggles.

"Why you--"

They wiggled out of his grip, taking off. David started after them, chuckling himself as he went.

-END-

[teddybeartoji]

hey, uh, fellow anxiety sufferer with maybe helpful advice? hopefully?? feel free to ignore if this doesn't vibe with you!

so, my anxiety has gotten a LOT better over the years. like, a lot. but when it was more frequent, i would get chest tightness too and i hated it.

so, what i basically learned is that the physiological reason you feel that tightness is because your brain has responded to your anxious state by producing two hormones, namely adrenaline and cortisol.

the fun thing about these hormones? they don't really dissipate if you sit around. other hormones? to my knowledge, yeah. these guys? no. no, they often get worse.

that's probably why it's bad when you're at home, if you're not doing too much physically. sitting when your anxiety is high can backfire if you're being pumped with adrenaline.

the adrenaline is there to get you up and moving to escape danger. it wants you to move.

the cortisol is the the body's stress response. it will turn off your body's ability to relax, and it will continue to do so until you get rid of it.

so, by sitting around and trying to relax to lessen it? usually makes it worse. like. super worse, potentially.

now, breathing exercises and mindfulness are really helpful! for sure! gentle exercise is pretty good when it's low-mid levels of anxiety. walking and aerobic exercise are good for those moments.

i try to walk around 30 minutes a day (if i can fucking time crunch it), and it's been helpful for me, honestly.

the thing about "oh, you should exercise more" people would tell you when i was struggling really kind of ticked me off (because, hey, there's a lot more to it than that!) and kind of made me more reluctant to exercise, honestly.

however, once i figured out what i enjoyed doing and that it was really just for me? yeah, i liked it.

my best advice, perhaps, is for when the chest pain gets really bad. if you ever feel like you're going to have a panic attack and you want to avoid one, the best thing you can do is REALLY INTENSE EXERCISE.

LIKE. DROP AND GIVE ME OVER 9000!!!!

seriously, just drop and do as many push ups if you can. can't do push ups, make it easier by laying on your knees or performing something that's more comfortable to you.

also, if you can, run. specifically, LIKE YOU'RE BEING CHASED BY A BEAR. just GO FOR IT.

because the adrenaline is specifically designed to make you run away like you're running from a fucking bear. by doing so, you cut down on the adrenaline, and your body feels like it has successfully escaped the imaginary bear that is threatening you. and it calms down.

so you calm down.

do whatever strenuous activity you can really intensely until you can't anymore or just feel done, and after you catch your breath, the feeling should be lessened.

otherwise, a different avenue to try may be intense distraction. like, not lowkey distraction like watching tv. something that requires a lot of attention. try doing a really hard puzzle, quizzing yourself on subjects you like, whatever really actively engages your mind.

a combo of physical and mental engagement might be helpful, too. whatever feels good or works for you. the tightness can be really annoying (or distressing when you're not feeling great), but there are things to be done for it! the tightness can get better, and with attention, it likely will. go for it!

moral of the story: RUN LIKE A FUCKING LUNATIC IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER!!!

NONNIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!1111111 YOU ARE AN ANGEL SENT FROM HEAVENNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! me a proper homebody watching you say that just sitting around won't do me any good O . O lmao NO BUT BUT BUT THIS IS VERY GOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i've been thinking about doing yoga again,, okay it's not very intense per se but i feel like that would still probably help right.. ?

and goddd i actually really fucking love running!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! not that i'm any good at it but it's so fucking fun lmao i do have some . things that keep me from doing it though that always just sound like i'm trying to look for excuses and i fucking hate that i wish i could just put on running clothes and just go and do it .

YOU DID JUST REMIND ME THAT I HAVE A JUMPING ROPE THOUGH THAT'S ALSO SMTH I USED TO DO A LOT AND I LOVED ITTTTT i think i've been taking steps back lmao i think i've lost the progress i managed to make a few years ago sighhh this is good though this post this ask. it feels like a very needed gentle bonk on the head hgsdhgadhgashg SO THANK YOUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM KISSING YOU SOOO SOOO SWEETLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ILYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mcufan72]

This oneshot got a bit long so I'm going to update it in three parts! I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!

Caught you !

Loki x fem! Reader

18+, definitely/Enemies to lovers/idiots in love/some harsh language, some harsh actions/sass/ angst/hurt/some inappropriate behaviour/self-gratification; I hope that's it

Part 1

How much you loved the afternoon breaks from work, drinking some tea and talking with Wanda and Nat about anything and everyone and of course telling a lot of nonsense. It was always so much fun and it was the nicest time of your workdays. The three of you were sitting in the lounge area of the compound and enjoying your afternoon tea.

You didn't feel very good today, it was a mixture of a slight headache and an undefined feeling of pain in your lower abdomen that made you feel bad but there was also some kind of sexual desire lurking in your nether regions, between your thighs…but talking to your friends was the best distraction you could get right now. So you definitely enjoyed meeting your friends now and talking to them instead of being alone and close to crying tears of self-pitying.

And like every time when you thought nothing could disturb the peaceful meeting with your friends, he showed up. The thorn in your flesh, the final nail to your coffin, the nightmare of your sleepless nights, the overbearing nerve-wrecking Loki Laufeyson aka God of Mischief.

Trickster, Prankster, mischief maker, impeccable, insatiable and irresistible womanizer and world's best lover…if it was true what the women, who had shared his bed with him, told at party nights in Stark Tower. For you Tony's parties were just a vanity fair…so in your opinion it was the perfect place for Loki Laufeyson to get desired, admired and worshiped as he wished for.

You desired him too but he didn't desire you. From the first day on when you met him, there was this sexual tension between you two. You tried to ignore it but it didn't work. For him you were just a sparring partner when it came to exchanges of sarcasm, impertinence and dark humor …it must be like this, you were sure about that. He wasn't into you and why should he.

You couldn't keep up with the beautiful flawless women he surrounded himself with and as a god he could have the most beautiful women in the universe, so why should he choose you? And if there was something you definitely did not want to be then it was another notch in his bedpost. You decided to ignore your crush on him and to better not like him. It made things easier…battling him playfully was so much easier than to love him… definitely.

"Showtime, ladies" Nat snarled and sipped eye-rolling at her tea when she saw Loki entering the lounge area.

You sighed in annoyance and cursed him inwardly. Why couldn't he stay away? At least in the afternoons? Nothing nice ever comes from his mouth then.

"Ah, good afternoon ladies…enjoying your…little coffee gossip?" He asked mischievously. His deep voice sounded extremely erotic to you today.

An unmistakable, alluring scent lingered in the air… your scent, and it undeniably hit his senses and the urge to be close to you grew again. Your today's choice of clothes made him lick his lips, the black trousers hugged your wonderfully formed butt perfectly and your also black tight-fitting turtleneck shirt emphasized your beautiful upper body.

"Get lost, Laufeyson!" you scolded at him and left the chill out lounge towards the kitchen to get you another tea, Loki was on your heels immediately.

"Uhh, someone's in a very good mood today… don't run away, little one, don't you want to tell me what you were gossiping about… or did you rave about me?"

He ran around you once like a happy puppy and then he walked backwards in front of you until you both had reached the kitchen counter. You couldn't stop eye-rolling and laughing irritated.

"...and I mean… I wouldn't mind!" He built himself up to full size, straightened up the collar of his not completely buttoned up black tight shirt to give you a good view of his chest hair and a smug smile appeared on his much too pretty face. He knew exactly what he did.

"Doesn't it get tiring, being so self-righteous and arrogant, Laufeyson?" you asked him with faked kindness and batted your eyes at him. The sight of his chest nearly knocked you out today. You could hardly stop yourself from drooling and staring at him. If he would ask you to bend over the kitchen counter to fuck you, you would do it without any hesitation.

"Hmmm…no, it doesn't…it just makes me… thirsty…" he grinned at you and in a quick move he stole your cup with the fresh tea and with fast long steps he walked away from you, sipping the warm liquid…the tea you made was always the best.

"LAU-FEY-SON, that was my tea! We're not in Asgard here and I'm not your servant. Make your tea on your own…" you yelled angry after him and clenched your fingers to fists…and you wanted to bite into his perfect ass.

"Thank you, darling and have a nice afternoon…oh and I like the mug…I think I'll keep it!" he answered, turned his head to look and wink at you smugly and off he went.

"Aaarrrggghhh…this guy is driving me crazy…and now he had stolen my tea AND my favorite mug… I'll kill him one day…!" you bickered.

"Yes, yes…" Nat murmured smilingly over the rim of her cup. She and Wanda looked at each other, softly clinking their mugs and couldn't hide a knowing grin. Of course you heard and saw it…

"What? I HATE him, why can't he leave me alone?" you yammered.

You got yourself a new cup of tea and you three continued your chatting in peace. You didn't want to think or talk about him further. After one more hour of boring desk work you decided to go to bed early and to declare the day finished.

Of course you weren't able to stop thinking about this smugly guy. Loki didn't just annoy you this afternoon, he aroused you immensely. For you it was his tight black shirt today, halfway open, tucked into his also tight grey jeans that suits him so well, and the scent of his cologne mixed with his very own masculine scent…he smelled kind of animalistic for you this afternoon and you were so extremely turned on by it, you would like to jump at him and you wanted him to fuck you relentlessly. You accelerated your steps back to your room, you needed some friction between your legs. Your fingers, pillows, whatever…you didn't care, the main thing was a quick relief before you would combust of desire.

When you had entered your rooms, you hastily closed your door and got rid of your clothes as fast as possible. The only clothes that stayed on your body were your bodice and your panties drenched with your juices of arousal.

'Loki, you bastard!'

You couldn't wait anymore, you needed to touch yourself and you laid down in your bed quickly. You started with rubbing your erect nipples but it wasn't enough…so you let your hand quickly slip down further, into your panties between your wet folds and massaged over and around your needy clit with two of your fingers, Loki permanently on your mind. Soft moans escaped your mouth, you licked your lips in desperate need of getting kissed by him …how much you wished it was Loki who finger-fucked your dripping pussy with his beautiful long fingers, his thumb rubbing over and around your bundle of nerves…

"Loki.." …you melted away into boundless ecstasy …almost there, you were almost there… "I'm cumming…" and you had overheard the knocks at your door and almost too late you recognised someone came into your room.

As soon as Loki entered your privacy, you pulled your fingers quickly away from your wet pussy and put that said hand under your head, trying to pretend you were just chilling in your bed. You had been almost there and now you could barely hide your reddened cheeks and your heavy breathing. Hopefully he didn't see the thin layer of sweat above your upper lip and on your forehead. Hopefully he didn't hear or see anything.

How embarrassing! Getting caught during masturbation by the god of hotness…ahhh… mischief. How good that you didn't scream his name. You should better think of flower meadows and butterflies now …and..wait…how dare he enter your room? Did you allow him to come in? Nooo…you definitely did not.

"What are you doing here in my room?" you snarled at him with powerful indignation in your voice. Was there some insecurity in his gaze? No, you must have been wrong. He just would tease you further right now.

"Oh dear, the door wasn't closed properly so I came in after I knocked at it and I thought I …hmm the question is what are you doing right now? Did I interrupt something?" he asked, the familiar arrogance in his voice.

"Nothing of your concern…and no..you did not!" you tried to convince him.

Could it be that you hadn't closed the door behind you? Have you been that horny that you couldn't wait anymore rubbing your fingers through your folds and around your little gem that you didn't close your door properly? Have you really been that aroused?

"Did you just touch yourself, sweetheart?" he asked smugly.

"Nooo…no no…no I did not touch myself…and it's none of your business either." You answered way too quickly but still tried to convince him that you did nothing but chill. A pathetic try.

"Are you sure, darling?" He asked you sardonically.

'Note to me: never lie to the god of mischief and lies...'

"Yeesss …I'm sure. " you answered convinced.

"And I'm sure you did. I'm sorry that I disturbed you pleasuring yourself…by the way…did you think of me while doing so?" he asked you smugly while he crossed his arms in front of his chest..and you just wanted to punch him into his adorable face. How arrogant can someone be?

"Why should I've thought of you while I pleasured myself…you're not that hot and desirable that I…"

'...oops..of course I thought of him…shit I lied again…'

He walked over to you slowly, you were still laying in your bed under the duvet. He pulled your hand from under your head and took your index-and middle finger into his mouth and licked them clean while staring into your eyes, testing the waters how you would react now. His baby-blue eyes tried to seduce you and seemed to stare deep into your heart…he loved how you tasted and his eyes darkened and sparkled with lust.

'Oh god…why?…stop doing this…no..please don't stop…is there…something going on in his jeans?...nah, wishful thinking…'

You were so close to giving in to him.

"Mmmmhhhhmmm…" he hummed with his deep baritone and took your fingers out of his mouth again, licking his lips lasciviously. "Delicious…So you admit it, you just touched yourself…I knew it and I can smell and taste it, darling. You shouldn't lie to me, little one!" He still held your hand in his. It felt good.

"Stop calling me that. I'm not your darling, sweetheart or little one. And …let go of my hand! Are you serious? Who do you think you are, you jerk?" You shouted at him angrily.

"May I be of help with pleasuring you, darling?" he asked cheeky.

"Uurrggh no.…piss off, Laufeyson, get your pompous, arrogant ass out of here!" and you ripped your hand out of his grip.

"Your wish is my order, sweetheart." He took a step backwards and bowed down generously, his smugly smile never left his face.

He turned around and was already on his way back to the door of your room when you threw a pillow after him. He caught it out of the air without looking at it and before it could even hit his head.

"How rude, Darling! ..ah, I nearly forgot… " he turned around again to face you and pointed his index fingers into the air "…that's why I came to you….Tony wants to see us all at 7pm sharp…sooo, there's still enough time for you to…finish what you've started several minutes ago …and feel free to think of me while touching your sweet little gem …"

He wiggled his eyebrows and made a lascivious gesture with his hand, palm upwards, his thumb slightly raised and his index-and middle finger curled up in a 'come-to-me' motion.

"Arrgghh…get the hell out of here, Laufeyson. And give me back my pillow…"

You yelled at him, now sitting in your bed.

"Nope…you threw it after me so I think you don't need it anymore. I'll keep it!" He grinned ironically.

"You're an asshole, Laufeyson,'' you complained.

"I love you too, darling" and with that he nearly left your room but he shoved his head through the door frame into your room again and asked full of sarcasm: "…what exactly must I do to make you open your wonderful thighs for me? I'm sure you'd look ravishing, greedily waiting for me, with spread legs…"

"…uuuurrrgggh, Laufeyson, you damn stupid bastard! Go and fuck your whores…" you screamed in his direction and he left your room with a mischievous laughter right in time, closing your door with a dramatic gesture, before another pillow hit the door.

You nearly cried after he had left and you pulled the duvet over your head. You weren't aroused anymore, just embarrassed. How should you ever look into his beautiful eyes again? Now he would never stop making fun of you. Why were you so thin skinned, horny and angry when you were ovulating? …you just wanted to ease some of the physical pain and the sexual desire of your sensitive body…and now that…and why did you constantly respond to his provocations?

And worst of all, now he got the confession that you had a crush on him. But you couldn't help yourself, he was your beloved enemy and you couldn't live without him.

'What is wrong with me? … damn why can't I restrain myself?…I not only acted like the biggest asshole in town, I also acted like an animal in urgent need to get myself off, eagerly and desperately trying to fuck an ovulating female creature… to impregnate her or what…seriously?

She's so lovely and adorable. I must be disgusting and pathetic in her eyes…and I overstep her private boundaries permanently…if I were her I would hate me too… but she pulls me to her like a magnet, every single day…and she was too alluring today...and didn't she say my name and 'come in' ?...I really thought she did … I would've made love to her if she had asked me to do it. I really thought today is the day…She really drives me crazy…'

Besides his primal needs today, he truly wanted you. Of course he smelled you every time on your special days of a month, it's a part of his Jotun roots and it intoxicated him like a love spell, more than you did anyways every day but there was more than this basic instinct. Deep inside of him Loki knew that he had fallen for you. And after this long time living here together with you, you around him permanently with that constant sexual tension between you two, he really thought you wanted him to bed you today.

He interpreted the slightly open door as an invitation and he really thought you asked him in after he had knocked at the door. And of course he knew what you did in your bed under your duvet. He sensed it before he entered your room. As soon as he recognised that he misunderstood the whole situation, he felt embarrassed and he felt honestly sorry to have pressed you like this. He needed to hide his fault and remorse and so he began to tease you again as you are used to from him…but he couldn't stand the still remaining sexual tension lingering in your bedroom.

Everything about you made him love you since the first day he met you ….even your hate for him. He especially loved your sass, your sarcasm, your dark humor, the way you responded to his provocations. You had everything he loved about a woman. You were just right for him. Sometimes his provocations were a bit over the top and too much…but every day when he met you, you were willing to banter and fight with him playfully over and over again.

And he loved to play these games with you and he hoped instantly you loved it too. It was the old game of 'tease the ones you love.' It was the only way for him, to stay close to you, to talk to you. Could it be that he…no…absolutely not! He was sure you would never let him make you his, never and so he preferred to fuck around with random women to not think too much about you, it made things easier for him.

…and anyways, he wasn't the type for a serious relationship, was he?

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

@lokisprettygirl

@wheredafandomat

@fictive-sl0th

[your-queer-dad]

hey dad.

I've been so stressed out because of school and how much homework I have to do, along with being in the National Honors Society and a performing arts society. I just have so much to do and I have a lot on my shoulders right now. It doesn't help that I'm constantly tired and in pain. I have a chronic illness that makes me really fatigued and dizzy and causes me to always be in some amount of pain. It can also cause me to faint sometimes, which thankfully hasn't happened yet, but I've gotten close a few times recently.

I hate feeling like this so often, and I only really have a few escapes from all the work. Thankfully my orchestra class is usually very fun, and a lot of the time it helps distract me from everything when I'm there. A bit more good news is that some trans tape for binding that I ordered arrived yesterday.

I'm happy about that, and I'm glad I have my orchestra class with some of my friends, but it's not even close to being enough to make me feel better. I feel so burnt out, and I don't think it's going to get any better as the school year goes on. If I'm this overwhelmed right now, then how horrible will I feel during finals?? I wish I could have some sort of break from everything, I'm so tired.

-Zee (they/them) 🫂

Hey kiddo, I'm so so sorry that sounds really stressful. If you need to talk, I'm always here kiddo. 🫂🫂

- dad x

[roguemage64]

I had such a fun time with this incorrect quote generator! Hope y’all enjoy what it came up with 😄

Incorrect She-ra Quotes

Catra: This is bothering me.

Adora: Well, you are digging up a corpse.

Catra: No, not that. That's, uh, pretty par for the course, actually.

Catra: So what’s for dinner?

Adora, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

Catra: .. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- [translation: I’M SORRY]

Adora: What's that?

Catra: Remorse code.

Adora: I'm even angrier now.

Catra: *Kicks the door down looking panicked*

Adora: What did you do?

Catra: Nobody died.

Adora: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

Catra: *holding a bottle* Is this whiskey or perfume?

Adora: *chugs entire bottle*

Adora: It’s perfume.

Catra, tending to Adora's wounds: How would you rate your pain?

Adora: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.

Adora: Violence isn't the answer.

Catra: You’re right.

Adora: *sighs in relief*

Catra: Violence is the question.

Adora: What?

Catra, bolting away: And the answer is yes.

Adora, running after her: NO-

Adora: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much.

Catra: Oh, you’ve been?

Adora : Once. In Monopoly.

Catra, watching the news: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium today!

Adora: *walks in covered with ink* Well, maybe the squid was being a jerk.

Catra: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is the most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Adora's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. I can’t get her out...

The rest of the Princess Alliance:

Catra: I’m gonna need a human skull and I can't have you ask any questions why.

Adora: Only if you also don't ask why

Adora: *Pulls out 7 pristine human skulls* Take your pick.

Catra:

Adora:

Catra: This one is fine.

Catra: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Bow: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Adora: I got distracted about halfway through.

Glimmer: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Catra: Great.

Adora: Wait, three?

Cop: Yeah?

Glimmer: OH MY GOSH BOW FELL OFF!!!

Glimmer: Everyone, synchronize your watches.

Adora: I don’t know how to do that.

Bow: I don’t wear a watch.

Catra: Time is a construct.

Bow: You know those things will kill you, right?

Glimmer, pouring another glass of whiskey: That’s the point.

Catra, smoking a cigarette: We’re trying to speed up the process.

Adora: *Nods while eating raw cookie dough*

Adora: I’m an idiot.

Catra:

Glimmer:

Bow:

Adora:

Catra: If you’re waiting for us to disagree, this is going to be a long day.

Scorpia: What does 'take out' mean?

Adora: Food.

Bow: Dating

Glimmer: Murder

Catra: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Scorpia: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life

Adora: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years!

Glimmer: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this!

Bow: I knew I lost that potential somewhere!

Catra: My moral code, is that you?

Scorpia:

Scorpia: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk my mothers left me but do you guys need a hug?

Adora: You're a loose cannon, Catra.

Catra: No, I'm not. I'm a cannon maybe, but a loose cannon? Is that what you think of me?

Bow: I think you play by your own rules.

Glimmer: No way, she think rules were made to be broken.

Adora: Those are all attributes of a loose cannon.

Catra: No, I'm just a reckless renegade. Scorpia is a loose cannon.

Scorpia: *accidentally smashes a chair*

Adora: Nothing in life is free.

Perfuma: Love is free!

Sea Hawk: Adventure is free!

Bow: Knowledge is free.

Catra: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

Catra: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.

Adora: This knife is actually a magic wand.

Glimmer: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.

Catra: *cocks gun* Magic missile.

Bow: What is wrong with you people.

Catra: Anyone d-

Adora: Depressed?

Bow: Drained?

Glimmer: Dumb?

Scorpia: Disliked?

Catra: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people ...

Catra: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Adora will and will not eat.

Glimmer: Grass? Yes!

Catra: Moss? Yes!!

Glimmer: Leaves? Ohh, yes!

Catra: Shoelaces? Strange but true!

Glimmer: Worms? Sometimes!

Catra: Rocks? Usually nah.

Glimmer: Twigs? Usually!

Catra: Scorpia’s cooking? Inconclusive!

Perfuma: How did you… test this?

Catra: You just hand her stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if she eats it, she eats it.

Perfuma: ... I don’t know how to feel about this.

Bow: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

Adora: I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff.

Catra: I witnessed the dumb stuff.

Bow: I recorded the dumb stuff.

Glimmer: I joined in on the dumb stuff.

Perfuma: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!!!

Perfuma: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do?

Adora: Have everyone stand.

Bow: Bring three more chairs!

Glimmer: The most important ones can sit down.

Catra: Kill three.

Glimmer: Good morning.

Adora: Good morning.

Bow: Good morning.

Scoria: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Catra: MORNING SCUMBAGS

Adora: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Glimmer: Several traffic violations.

Catra: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Scorpia: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Bow: Also, that’s not our car.

Catra: So uhhh... my question is: my friend keeps on going into the pantry and grabbing handfuls of fettuccine... uncooked...

Glimmer: I would hope they're not grabbing handfuls of cooked fettuccine!

Scorpia: In your pantry!

Catra: Yeah... and eating them raw, and they keep calling them 'chips'. ... How do I make them stop?

Glimmer: Is your friend here?

Catra, motioning to Adora: Yeah.

Glimmer, to Adora: You're a monster! Words MEAN things!

Bow: Does anybody remember- I haven't been to Olive Garden in many moons- but they DO have a like- fettuccine bottle that you can just- grab em out of and chew-

Bow: HOLD ON. WAS THIS A PRANK YOU GUYS PULLED ON ME WHEN WE WENT TO OLIVE GARDEN AS KIDS?!

Bow: NO, STOP. EVERYBODY SHUT UP. DO THEY GIVE YOU RAW FETTUCCINE TO CHEW ON IN THE LOBBY OF THE OLIVE GARDEN

Everyone else: No.

Bow, to Glimmer and Catra: YOU MONSTERS

Glimmer: YAAAAAAAAY!

Catra: THE PRESTIGE

Catra: Bye Adora! Bye Bow! Bye Glimmer! Bye Scorpia! Bye Adora!

Bow: You said ‘bye Adora’ twice.

Catra: I like Adora.

Scorpia: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Glimmer: 'Prettiest Smile'

Bow: 'Nicest Personality'

Catra: 'Most likely to start a bar fight'

Adora: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Bow: You kidnapped Adora? That’s illegal!

Catra: But Bow, what’s more illegal? Briefly inconveniencing Adora, or destroying our dreams?

Bow: Kidnapping Adora, Catra!!!

Glimmer: Bow, listen, whatever I may think of you right now- these guys are counting on you to inspire them!

Bow: What, to kidnap people?!?!

Glimmer: To work together!

Bow: TO KIDNAP PEOPLE?!?!

Glimmer: Bow, we all agreed celebrities were an exception.

*The squad is over at Catra's house*

Adora: Ohhhh, we each get our own oven?

Catra: ... N-No...

Catra, laughing: How many ovens do you think I have???

Adora, motioning to their kitchen: Three, I thought!

Bow: I see a-

Catra, motioning to one device: This is a microwave.

Adora: Oh, well I-

Catra: Hey wait wait, actually- hang on- *fiddles with the buttons on the microwave*

Catra, amazed: Its got a bake setting!

Glimmer: Ohoho, you learn something new every day!

Scorpia: Do we- Do we roshambo for who gets to pick first?

Catra: Now I've just discovered I have more ovens than I thought, we don't have to roshambo nothin!

Catra: I am someone who owns four ovens...

Catra, louder and way too happy: I am someone... who owns FOUR OVENS...

Catra: I didn't know I was so rich with ovens...

Perfuma, pointing to another appliance: Also the toaster oven!

Catra:

Adora: Ohhh, toasty boy! Four- Five ovens!

Catra:

Catra, ECSTATIC: I AM SOMEONE WHO OWNS FIVE OVENS

Catra: Well, aren’t you all a rag-tag group of adventurers with unclear goals and good hearts! Oh, let me guess: you’re out to save the world!

Adora: Well, actually, that sounds like a pretty fair assessment.

Bow: More or less, I guess...

Glimmer: That sounds awesome! Let’s do that!

Scorpia: I’m new here, but I am open to the concept.

Perfuma: I thought that’s what we were doing, guys, come on!

Bow: Just be yourself.

Catra: 'Be myself'? Bow, I have one day to win Adora over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Perfuma: Couple weeks.

Mermista: Six months.

Glimmer: Jury’s still out.

Catra: See, Bow?

Catra: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

Catra: Everytime I hear someone talking about updog, I’m torn between not wanting to fall for it and wanting to help them complete their joke.

Adora: Okay, but what is updog?

Bow: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish.

Glimmer: Not, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released.

Scorpia: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden.

Perfuma: Surely, that’s Uppsala, where’s updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter.

Catra: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs.

Glimmer: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current.

Bow: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is the modern version of a henway.

Adora: What’s a henway??

Catra: Oh, about five pounds.

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Catra: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Adora: ...I did. I broke it.

Catra: No. No you didn't. Bow?

Bow: Don't look at me. Look at Glimmer.

Glimmer: What?! I didn't break it.

Bow: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Glimmer: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Bow: Suspicious.

Glimmer: No, it's not!

Scorpia: If it matters, probably not, but Perfuma was the last one to use it.

Perfuma: Lies! I don't even drink that trash.

Scorpia: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Perfuma: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Scorpia!

Adora: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Catra.

Catra: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Scorpia: Catra... Bow's been awfully quiet.

Bow: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Catra, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Catra: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Catra:

Catra: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

*The squad right before Adora (and Catra)'s wedding*

Catra: Well I have to go, I have a wedding to attend.

Bow: Wait... Oh! I have a wedding to attend too!

Glimmer: Oh, I have a wedding to attend as well

Scorpia: I THINK WE ALL HAVE WEDDINGS TO ATTEND

Perfuma, panicked: I THINK I HAVE A WEDDING TO OFFICIATE

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Perfuma: Thanks fam!

Mermista: oh no

Scorpia: *cries* I love you too

Glimmer: Sounds fake but okay

Adora: *A flustered mess*

Catra: can i get a refund

Adora: We need to distract these guys

Catra: Leave it to me

Catra: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Bow, Glimmer, and Mermista: *Immediately begin arguing*

Perfuma, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

Catra: Rules are made to be broken.

Adora: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.

Bow: Uh, piñatas.

Scorpia: Glow sticks.

Glimmer: Karate boards.

Perfuma: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.

Catra: Rules.

Adora:

Catra: Time for plan G.

Adora: Don’t you mean plan B?

Catra: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Bow: What about plan D?

Catra: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Glimmer: What about plan E?

Catra: I’m hoping not to use it. I die in plan E.

Glimmer: I like plan E.

Adora: So are we flirting right now?

Catra: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU

Adora: That doesn’t answer my question

Adora: Catra, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power!

Catra: Well of course I have.

Catra: Have you ever tried going mad without power?

Catra: It's boring.

Catra: Can you keep a secret?

Adora: Do you know anything about my life?

Catra: Yes I do. Good point.

Catra: You know, I'm starting to regret showing you how that blender works.

Adora, drinking toast: Why do you say that?

Catra: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine!

Adora: How can you still say that?

Catra: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

Catra: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Adora: I think you mean cards.

Catra, pulling knives out of her sleeves: No, I do not.

Adora: How do I deal with my enemies?

Catra: Kill them

Adora: That's a bit extreme, I was hoping for a more passive solution

Catra: Kill them only a little?

Catra: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait.

Adora: You and me!!!

Catra, tearing up: Okay.

Catra: I’m going to take you out

Adora: great, it’s a date!

Catra: I meant that as a threat.

Adora: See you at five!

Adora: This is such a bad idea.

Catra: Then why are you coming along?

Adora: One of us need to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

Catra: Am I in trouble?

Adora: Take a guess.

Catra: No?

Adora: Take another guess.

Catra: You kill people for money?!

Adora: I can explain!

Catra: And all this time I’ve been doing it for free like a chump!

Adora: I was arrested for being too cool.

Catra: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

These quotes are generated from https://incorrectquotesgenerator.com

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #24

Batgirl (2000) #9 Words: Kelley Puckett Pictures: Scott & Campanella

The end of the 'Cass gets her powers back' arc, some good stuff in here, including Bruce going to Cain in the hopes that he might gain some new insight into how Cass was trained in the first place that will help her now, while Cass goes out to find Shiva, who is able to give her what Bruce can't, in exchange for the promise of a proper fight to the death a year later, establishing a new temporary status quo and letting Cass's Batgirl title get back to the mostly stand alone stories, at least for a while. I'm sick as hell right now, so once again we're just picking out a few scenes to look at in more depth, but you know the drill, this is still mostly the original team, still ~mostly~ on their A-game, so yeah if you've never read it before go check it out.

So Bruce sneaks into David's house, again, this time trying to find insight into David's training techniques that might help Cassandra, and there's this little flashback sequence via David's proud papa family films (please forgive the more-extended-than-usual cut and paste):

Setting aside the comic-book unreality of the scene, It's important for a number of reasons. For one, it again contrasts Cass's two father figures, who are otherwise so often in parallel.

Yes, they both drive her towards isolated lives of violence and darkness, and away from everyday life in the light and normal human interactions. Yes, both love and care for her, but also see themselves echoed within her so strongly that they end up treating her more as extensions of themselves, as protege, partner, agent, or legacy, rather than as a person in her own right who should be allowed and encouraged to live her own life.

but Bruce has lines he won't cross, and David doesn't.

More than that, though, we get to see here something that Bruce can't.

Bruce sees David crossing his lines and snaps into vengeance mode, all black and white morality. "You weren't training her, you were just abusing her." But while shooting Cass was absolutely abuse, it was also training, and more importantly than that it was play. It was a game.

Look at that smile. Even in the middle of tremendous pain, Cass is having fun. She's playing a game with her dad, and winning, and her dad's going to be so proud of her for winning the game.

These are the sorts of extremes little Cass was not just willing but eager to go to in order to earn her father's approval, and Bruce is too distracted by his own righteous indignation at her abuse to register this dangerous and self destructive character trait - central to who Cass was even before she was consumed by guilt - or realize how her new life as Batgirl is feeding it.

Yes, David abused Cass in ways that Bruce never would, but rather than helping Cass recover from that abuse - instead of offering Cass the kind of unconditional parental love that would allow her to start living for herself instead of for a father-figures approval - Bruce is instead using Cass's abuse in furtherance of his own crusade.

And that's something that's only possible because Bruce refuses to acknowledge Cass's gleeful participation in her own past abuse. 'David abused her, but I never would. I'm not forcing her to join my crusade, I'm simply allowing her to do what she wants to do, and if what she wants is to be just like me, that's just because we're so much alike' - ignoring how her abusive upbringing influenced what Cass wants or how she behaves towards father figures.

...

Sadly, as with a lot of this early set up stuff, we don't ever really get a proper payoff to this. Creative teams change and characters are retconned and terrible editorial decisions are imposed and by the time any stability returns to Cass as a character not only is this intricate web of character connections gone, the structure it was built on also no longer exists.

.....

Anyway, Cass is also in this Cass comic, asking if Shiva can give her back her powers.

It's kind of a cheap cinema-sins ding style complaint, but... how exactly can Shiva give Cass back her body-reading ability? Especially so quickly and easily? Especially without any impact on the language centers of Cass's brain which used to be processing the body reading stuff and are now processing language? Like, there isn't even an arbitrary wizard here. This bit works on an emotional or story logic level I guess, but always felt kind of arbitrary. Especially how Cass was able to have both the body reading and normal speech after this, when they were so deliberately positioned as an either-or sort of thing before.

But whatever! We're not doing that anymore! And the looming death match that Cass expects to lose ties so closely to her core character motivations that I'm cool with it. But I talked about that stuff at length last time, no need to re-hash it here.

David Cain and Lady Shiva are problems for the future. For now this little stretch of serialized stories is over, and Cass can go back to episodic Batgirl adventures for a bit, only with more narration I guess.