#I have been inside victims homes to talk with them all of this all alone

[madigoround]

✌🏻

[mydear-corinthian]

not you, please

synopsis - wherein the reader was kidnapped by the unsub that hotch and the team were investigating.

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader / aaron hotchner x wife!reader

warnings - ANGST w/ comfort, reader being kidnapped and tortured, blood, typical criminal minds talk/content, use of aaron and hotch separately

notes - a tad long (w.c <2300), gif & picture isn't mine, divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

"Where is she?" Hotch's deep and frustrating voice echoed throughout the interrogation room. He was alone, wanting to talk to the now-caught criminal, wanting the offender to know your whereabouts.

It's been two days since you went missing. You were just doing your usual grocery for the week not until you went to the parking lot and you felt a damped cloth covering your mouth and nose. You accidentally inhale the chemicals on it making your muscles and bones tired, and your eyes shut down completely.

When you woke up, you felt a cold metallic wrap-feeling around your wrists. Your hands were hung up while you stood; your body felt weaker than ever. As you looked down on your body, bruises and fresh scars painted all over your stomach and legs. You want to cry. Cry for the pain. Cry because you know that you won't be able to see your husband again.

Hotch came home after a long tiring work. He gently hung his suit coat on the rack as he called your name. Once he did, Hotch didn't hear an answer. He thought that you were asleep since it was already midnight. Hotch went upstairs to your shared room and knocked softly before entering. His eyes widened at the sight: the bed was empty. Hotch quickly ran downstairs, searching every room there is inside the house. Hell, he even checked the backyard.

You weren't there.

Hotch immediately grabbed his phone, dialing your number. Unfortunately, it went directly to voicemail making his heart drop.

Hi, this is (Y/n)! I'm afraid I cannot be on the phone right now. Just leave a message and I'll reply as soon as I can.

Your voice helped him a bit but it's the fact that it's just a voicemail. He cannot help but think where were you?

That's when he remembered.

Earlier in his shift, he recalled how the team got a new case. Four women were tortured and murdered with the same hair and eye color as yours.

"No, that's not possible.." Not you, please.." he thought to himself.

Hotch grabbed his car keys and drove to the BAU office right away. When he entered the office, he ran immediately and went inside the elevator. Hotch called everyone: Reid, Garcia, Morgan, J.J, Prentiss, and Rossi.

"I need you all to be here. It's an emergency." Hotch stated and dropped the call after.

After five minutes, everyone was in the conference room, standing up and looking at Hotch.

"What happened?" Morgan was the first to ask.

"(Y/n) was abducted. I suspect this morning." Hotch replied, trying to keep his composure. He may appear normal or he's showing no feelings at all but deep down, his mind is punching him with all the possibilities on where are you and what happened. Are you okay? Do you have any injuries? Or worse, are you still alive?

He knows that people who go missing die within the first 24 hours since they went missing. For the first time, Hotch disregard the statistics. He won't accept any of it.

"I am sure it has to do with the case we had this morning. (Y/n) has the same characteristics as the victims. (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c)." Hotch added.

"Oh my god.." Garcia commented, covering her mouth in shock.

"We'll help you, Hotch," J.J. said, her eyes showing a trickle of sadness.

Everyone in the BAU loved you. They were shocked knowing that both of you were dating despite your different personalities. Whenever there was a tough case, you would give them homemade cookies— especially Emily since you know how much she loves them— and you usually wait for Aaron to finish his paperworks in his office and you chat with Spencer. Listening to all the statistics and facts that he gives. You were the one who helped J.J. during her pregnancy, you gifted her how many boxes of diapers and other baby items during her bridal shower. You learned how to make Italian dishes with Rossi and Aaron loved every single dish of them. Derek and Penelope kept on asking for dating tips and even going out and parties with them. For them, you're a part of the BAU now. You're their family.

"I'll trace her phone. To see where her last location was." Garcia immediately started, leaving the room, and went to her computer lair.

"I'll talk to the neighbors to see if they saw her." Emily and Derek said.

"I'll go and try to mark a location up," Spencer said, standing up and going to the other room.

Rossi walked towards the scared and worried Hotch, patting him on the back, "We'll find her, Aaron."

-

"Look who's awake! Took you long enough," the unsub laughed, there was a small knife in his hand.

"Let me go!" you panted, your arms wiggling against the cold and handcuffs. Tears were starting to form in your eyes.

The unsub was getting closer to you until you felt his hot breath on your neck, whispering things that you wish you could not hear. With all of your strength, you kicked his stomach making him tumble backward.

"You're a fighter, aren't you?" he laughed.

His knife trailed down to your thighs, caressing it before stabbing you. You let out a scream as you felt it pinch to your skin.

"Please— stop!" you begged.

"You know, the last person who was there in your place died," he said. "If you don't want to end up like her then behave!"

You didn't protest, you want to live. Your mouth let out a series of whimpers and sobs. The unsub laughed, showing no remorse or guilt for what he had just done he enjoyed it.

Another man came inside whatever room you were in. He wasn't in shape, unlike the man who tortured you. There you know what is happening.

Two unsubs.

One is highly intelligent; the one who plans all the murders. The other one is physically strong but has no brains. The stronger man works for the other guy.

You learned it from your husband. You let him debrief heavy cases and also Aaron gives you some tips and tricks whenever you're in a dangerous situation— which he hopes won't happen but it's better to be cautious and be prepared.

"Good job finding her, Eric. I'll go somewhere to buy more tools for this lady over here." the smarter unsub said.

Eric nodded in response, facing back to you as he smiled diabolically with a small cutter in his hands.

When his duo left, all you felt was pain when the cutter went back again to your skin, cutting you slowly. Your vision started to get woozy. You lost your balance before your whole vision started going back.

-

It's finally been 24 hours since you went missing.

Aaron was mentally and emotionally dissolved. He and the whole team were in the conference room, looking at Garcia on the small screen of the laptop, hoping to get an address or a name.

Please, Garcia.. Please

"I got an address!" Penelope shouted, making everyone including Aaron stand up.

"Where?" Aaron asked immediately, his foot tapping anxiously.

"So, I searched stores who had customers previously bought knives, ropes, cutters, and all those horrifying items," she responded. Aaron's heart sank when she mentioned those items. Torture items. "—There were a lot of people who bought it—welcome to America— but this is what I suspiciously found. I reviewed this store's CCTV footage and I kept on seeing the same man coming inside the store twice a week for almost a month who brought the same items: rope, butcher's knives, small cutters, staplers, shovels, and some.. handcuffs... What's weird is that he doesn't look like the person who is physically fit to do gardening, carpentry, digging stuff and all."

"Can you identify the man, baby girl?"

"I already did. The name is Fred Silverstone. He's 5'7 tall, white, he owns a grey Adventure pickup. He's still inside the store! The address is Building 2 Kennedy Store just by Palm Street."

As soon as the team received the address, all of them went to their SUVs and drove. Derek and Rossi were with Aaron. He wanted to drive but Rossi was faster than him. Rossi began to drive at a fast speed, trying to catch the possible unsub and you in time.

Once they arrived, Aaron didn't hesitate to run inside the store with a gun in his hand and a bulletproof vest on his chest to protect him.

"John Silverstone, freeze!" Aaron yelled, pointing his gun at him when he finally saw John about to leave the store with a cart full of torture items.

"Raise your hands where I can see them!"

John raised his hands in defeat. Derek grabbed his handcuffs behind his belt and stated the Miranda Rights with anger.

-

Hotch didn't waste his time to interrogate John. He tried screaming at him. Yell at him. Yet John didn't say a word to where are your whereabouts. Unfortunately, the man didn't speak for almost 16 hours. He was quiet. He was smart.

"Oh, you're not talking? Then let's talk about your wife. She's the stressor, right? You kidnap women with the same features as your wife because she left you. And when she tried to leave you, you killed her? Isn't that right?"

"Shut up!" John yelled. "You know, Agent.. your wife.. she's pretty." the sound of your name being mentioned lit up flames to his whole body. Jesus, he wants to punch that man right now.

"You know what I did to my wife? I strangled her before slowly but satisfactorily cutting her from head to toe in that fucking basement of her home. Who knows! Your wife will be like that in a few minutes." he laughed manically.

Hotch's anger rose even higher. A lump in his throat was starting to form. When the unsub finally gave a clue to your location, Garcia searched the house of John's ex-wife and sent the location immediately.

"You're gonna rot in prison, Silverstone." Hotch lowly said before leaving the room.

-

The team went to their respective SUVs, driving immediately. Hotch's mind was killing him—all the thoughts of you being wounded, in pain, or even seeing your lifeless body.

As soon as the team arrived, Hotch ordered everyone. Prentiss was on his left while Morgan was on his right. Morgan kicked the door harshly as the three ran towards the basement.

Once you heard footsteps and Aaron's voice, your body relaxed a little.

He's here now.

But before you could shout his name out, your body was grabbed by the remaining unsub. He locked your head with his forearm while he placed a small knife near your neck. You can feel how cold the knife was.

"FBI! Nicholas, put the knife down." Aaron said.

Aaron looked at you with fear and anxiety, all he needed was for you to come back to him safely.

"No! This is for John! I-I will make John proud by killing her without his help!" Nicholas shouted.

Prentiss was too impatient so she triggered the gun, the bullet hitting the unsub's forehead directly. His body fell, blood pooling down his head.

Your legs gave up once you were now away from his grasp. Your face was pale. You were dehydrated so much. Your injuries look severe. There was a lot of dried blood on your body while some fresh scars were seen on your thighs and stomach.

Aaron ran towards you instantly. He gently grabbed your upper body, scanning for more injuries. Tears were starting to form again in your eyes as you felt his safe touch once again.

"It's okay, honey.. I'm here. You'll be alright. Just stay awake for me, okay?" Aaron caressed your hair while looking at you with his adorable eyes. He may seem still professional but his eyes were starting to water and his voice quivered.

Unfortunately, you were too weak to speak. You only answered him with a nod.

"I need an ambulance now," Morgan called.

You looked at your husband once again. Oh, he looks good. You hate seeing him anxious or sad. How you wish you had the energy to stroke his cheek. But despite that, you felt your energy decrease. Your body starts to feel cold and your head feels light. When you looked at Aaron again, your eyesight was getting blurry. Everything felt light.

"No no, (Y/n) stay awake, please. The ambulance is coming— What is taking them so long!"

You tried. Oh, you tried to stay awake but unfortunately, darkness filled you.

-

Aaron was outside the operating room for almost 5 hours now. The team left a few hours ago, leaving him alone. He glances at his wristwatch every minute, tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for the doctor to tell him his condition. He finally cried. Tears were now falling how his face, imagining the worse responses once the doctor comes out of the operating room.

The door suddenly opened. A doctor exited the operating room, their scrubs were stained with some blood.

"For (Y/n) Hotchner?"

Aaron stood up immediately as he heard your name.

"She'll be fine," the doctor announced, a sigh of relief washing out on his body. "But she lost a lot of blood and was severely dehydrated. She's lucky to be alive. She will wake up in a few hours, Mr. Hotchner. You may visit her once the nurses will transfer her to a private room within the hour."

"Thank you, Doctor— Oh God— Thank you."

When you woke up, you were met by this bright light. You adjusted your eyes for a bit before opening them fully. You shifted your eyes to your legs and saw your husband sleeping rather uncomfortably. You called out his name softly, hoping that he'd wake up despite how quiet your voice was.

Aaron woke up and then looked at you. For the first time in 2 days, a smile was printed on his face.

"You're awake, " he said gently, standing up and kissing your forehead, stroking your hair with his fingers. "I thought I had lost you."

"I'm okay now, Aaron. I'm safe and you're with me," you reassured him, interlocking your fingers with his.

"I'm so sorry it took us time to find you."

"It's okay, Aaron. It's not your fault."

"I love you, (Y/n) Hotchner."

"I love you too, Aaron Hotchner." you smiled at him, kissing him back when his lips touched yours.

"Now give me some water; I'm thirsty," you said.

[callooopie]

The night, she calls me.. // Vampire!HOTD men

Come with me to the other side. Make the girl in black your bride — The Night // Aurelio Voltaire

It took all my willpower to not make this like a What We Do in the Shadows bit. No one asked for this either.. so that’s why I’m writing it. Is this gonna be a series of headcannons? No… no. No no… no no nono. I’ve started tooooo many writing projects I cannot… or can I 😏 (I actually can’t I have too many requests I need to lock in on)

Did you know what land you were walking on? Did you see the figure watching you from the top floor window? Was that a shadow you saw out the corner of your eye?

Davos Blackwood // Bloody Lord of Raventree Hall

A manor buried in the dark forests of Blackwood Vale, an urban legend surrounded the woods and the semi-ghost town beside it. Locals would talk of a figure that walked the empty streets at night, and the older residents would sometimes speak of an old estate once owned by a wealthy family that could be found in the heart of the forest. But no one has seen this place, or perhaps no one has ever returned alive to tell the tale.

The ever playful lord of Raventree Hall likes toying with his victims before they meet their bloody demise. If a fool ever gets lost on his land, Davos will follow them around in the form of a raven, acting as if he was leading them to the help they desperately called out for. Some would fall for it; the ‘guiding’ corvid that had brought them to this dusty manor. Little did they know, they wouldn’t be leaving that place.

He’s the type to make Raventree Hall look appealing and safe to the unwitting person, sometimes even playing the part of a humble boy who lives in his family’s old home. He’d learn all about a person as he feeds them food, bloody meat cooked to perfection for any human. Eat up, Davos would say, it’s a good cut of meat.. he’d hate for it to go to waste. Oh? The red wine tastes metallic? Strange.. perhaps a bottle gone bad?

He’d keep his lover human, not out of admiration of their humanity—but as more of a ‘pet’. The only reason Davos would turn a human into a vampire would be for his own entertainment purposes. It’s more fun when you can handle him and not pass out every time he does something. Plus, he wants the security of knowing you won’t be leaving him anytime soon. Forever stuck by his side, living forever in a world of night and pleasure by his doing and his doing alone.

Before you become his lovely lady, perhaps you’re one of those lost souls who stumble upon the estate. Either by poor luck or poorer fortunes, you catch the attention of Davos. He scares you from the shadows, setting candles alight with just a gust of wind, slamming doors and sending phantasms to spook you with howls and haunting steps, sending ravens and crows to caw and peck at you. It’s only when you get to the main atrium of the manor does he strike. A sinister smile on his pale face as he lunges at you from out of nowhere, teeth sinking into the skin of your neck as hands travel up and down your torso.

A master of shadows and tricks, Davos isn’t one to meet his adversaries head on. He doesn’t think they deserve his attention. He can deal with vampire hunters and celebrity ghost hunters with a wave of his hand from his bed chambers at the very top of the manor. He can make it as if ghouls are chasing around those idiots, birds seemingly attacking them on sight, if he’s feeling funny he might summon a demon or two. Why does he have the title of bloody lord? Well, he’s just a messy eater, and the corpses he leaves behind are unrecognizable from what they once were.

Jacaerys Velaryon // Draconic Prince of the Night

The picturesque village that the castle of Dragonstone sits next to has gained a plethora of tourists. However, no one has ever been allowed inside. From a mixture of local superstition, and simply because the wooden gates and doors will not open. Nothing can break, or even burn, the wood. Cursed or blessed, many have stayed away from that castle said to have been forged by dragon fire.. if local legends are to be believed.

Local legends also speak of how beautiful women are kidnapped from their homes and beds, never to be seen ever again. As a tourist, you believe you’re safe.. and you don’t really believe in those tales.. at least you don’t believe them until you awaken in a bed that’s not the hostel’s.

Jacaerys is a vampire who is easily bored. He wants someone who’ll keep up with him. A pretty princess to take care of and to simply sit like a doll, but also one who has a bit of wit and brain to them. Someone to go hunting with, or to fly around in the dead of night together. Someone to chase, someone to have intellectual conversation with.

A little more serious than a certain bloodthirsty lord, Jacaerys will turn his lover almost immediately. What’s the use in keeping you human and mortal? There is no use! Now you’re just like him, and you two can bond and be merry together in that lonesome stone castle. All the others he had spirited away were awfully dull, perhaps you will be different?

Like a dragon, he hoards his treasures. He’ll keep you close, too close almost. Jacaerys will hand feed you blood, lifting someone’s arm up to your mouth and praising you for dining on the thick liquid and flesh. He’ll hover near you, you two are royalty after all. It’s good for a prince like him to check up on his princess. He’ll dress you in gold and red fabrics, or maybe nothing at all! Jacaerys does like it when you’re only clad in gold and gems, sit yourself down on his mountains of treasure and make your nest; he’ll show he’s a good dragon who takes care of his mate.

A scholar of dragon magic, the only thing that can destroy his castle is what made it in the first place. Dragon fire. And dragons died out long long ago sweet thing (or never existed at all…). He’s perhaps the only one that remains! Believe whatever you will, Jacaerys will happily prove to you that dragons are real. And you believe it as you watch him transform into one to deal with trespassers who had somehow broken into the castle. Sure there’s ways in if your crafty enough, but what people don’t say is that there’s no way out once you’re in. The charred piles of bones that litter the treasure room are a testament to that.

Cregan Stark // Vampiric King in the North

Perhaps the only one out of the trio to be semi-normal. An urban legend surrounds the snowy mountains of a large wolf that leads lost wanderers to an empty yet warm and alive stone keep. It’s said if you stay for one night and leave the next day, you’ll find your way back to civilization. However, overstay your welcome and you won’t be heard from ever again…

Your car had broke down, and you hadn’t expected such a large snowstorm to sweep through. You’re on the brink of hypothermia, however you spot something in the distance. The howl of a wolf reaching your ears as the wild beast walks toward you. It almost seems to gesture toward you with its head, beckoning for you to follow. You’ve heard this legend, and so when you find yourself in the safety and warmth of a stone fortress you do your best to remain courteous and respectful. The plan was to leave in the morning, however when you try to open the large wooden door to leave—it slams shut on you before locking tightly.

Cregan likes your humanity, wishing only to learn from you. He would not covet you like a prize, nor would he treat you like a pet. To turn you without your consent? Unfathomable. If you wish to be turned, he would gladly do so at your request. Although he would tell you what you’ll miss, what you will be letting go of in exchange for this eternal life of coldness and blood. Perhaps it’ll all be worth it in the face of his love and companionship?

Teach him everything about you, and he’ll teach you all he knows. Cregan’s an old soul who’s lived more lifetimes than he can remember. He’s powerful, ancient; that uppity prince and cocky lord answer to him! He’s their overlord, they are his mere sons subordinates. All that aside, Cregan has vast collections of knowledge from throughout the ages. Although do remember, he scratches your back, and you will scratch his. Or he’ll show you what happens to those who’ve forgotten such an important lesson.

Unlike his underlings, Cregan can control his appetite for blood. He’s learned, and so he keeps a stockpile of it. Some of it ages like wine in a cellar, other bottles he keeps near and close. A special cabinet is reserved for special blood of course. What? You’ve never tried the blood of a priest? It’s heavenly.

Unlike the other two, Cregan lives more on red meats. Which he can get from almost anything. Although due to the coldness of the region, not many animals venture out. For a special occasion, you’ll find your plate full of fresh organs and fatty raw meat. A glass of thick red liquid right next to your plate. Cheers and eat your fill, it’s fresher than fresh. And who knows when an unsuspecting person will come up these mountains again?

[ravenromanova]

Too close

Pairings: Ghostface Bucky x Female reader (I got this idea from a tiktok i saw of someone that made a scream poster of bucky as ghostface and i died and i also read a natasha ghostface fic and it was so good and i thought why not make one of bucky!) This is the fic that inspired this, by @abbyromanoff you can run but you cant hide

Warnings: Mentions of killing, blood, SMUT 18+!!!!! Mask kink, knife play, Blood kink, Daddy kink, Breeding kink, unprotected sex (Bucky and the reader have sex in another room from an unalived person) (My darkest fantasies are coming out to play here sue me) DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+!!!!!!!!

Summary- Bucky doesn’t like it when people get too close to his girl. What happens when you figure out why everyone you talk to suddenly dies. Will you run?

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!

~

“This just in another the mysterious serial killer known as ghostface has claimed another victim. 22 year old Jordan Rodriguez was found in her new york apartment with 50 stab wounds. She was found by her roommate Janice after she came home from work. Officers haven’t given many details as to if they are any leads into who this killer could be. But they have advised everyone within the brooklyn area to be inside by 8pm to limit any risks.” The nightly news reporters vice echos through your apartment as you watch through hooded eyes.

This was the fifth person this week to die a brutal death and not to mention you seem to have had an interaction with everyone that has died. Fear floods your veins as your head runs a thousand miles and hour and what this could mean. Is someone out to hurt you? Do you have a stalker who is killing everyone you know to get you alone? Are you next? That’s all you can think about before your thoughts are cut off by the front door opening.

You shriek and jump off the couch and run to the kitchen to grab whatever knife you can. You decide to duck behind your island with the knife as you hear footsteps walk in. The footsteps are heavy yet soft as the approach you. It’s not until the figure comes closer to you that you jump in front of them and attempt to stab them but they catch your hand.

“Woah they’re tiger” The voice says and you drop the knife once you realize who it is. You flick on the kitchen light before walking over to him and throwing your arms around his shoulders and hugging him.

“I’m sorry jamie” You apologize to your boyfriend and he just chuckles in response.

“It’s okay babydoll, but what has you so freaked out?” He asks looking at your with eyes of concern.

You sigh as you look at him before you decide to tell him what’s wrong. “The news- They said another person has been killed…A-And i knew the person who was killed, Ive known all the people who’ve died this week! What-what if someone is out to hurt me? What i-if i- die?” Your voice breaks as you speak your fears. He looks at you and brings you in for another hug.

“Oh babydoll it’s going to be okay im sure it’s nothing” He said calmly as she stroked your back and kissing the top of your head.

You sighed as you looked at him while you nodded your head. Maybe you were just being paranoid you thought, maybe this is just one big coincidence and you’ll be fine. Yea… you’ll be fine.

“Yea maybe you’re right” You didn’t sound too convinced with your own words but you try to shake off the feeling that something bad is happening.

“Come on babydoll lets get you into bed so you stop overthinking in that pretty little head of yours” His voice is so soft and sweet as he takes your hand in his and walks you two to the bedroom. When the both of you enter the room he tells you to lay down and then goes to get something. Thirty seconds later he comes back with your favorite blanket and stuffed animal and slides in bed next to you.

That night the two of you cuddle and have cute little conversations that help ease your overthinking. You fell asleep with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky was panicking since he stepped foot into the apartment. He thought he had been caught when you attempted to stab him but luckily for him you were as clueless as ever.

~one week later~

You sighed as you watched the news and they reported the 8th murder in two weeks. And very unfortunately for you, you had known the persons who died…just like the rest of them. That really didn’t help with the overthinking that’s for sure.

It was around 4am when you decided to turn off the tv and head to bed. Your brows furrowed when you realized Bucky wasnt home yet. You thought maybe he had gotten an overnight shift at the garage but normally he tells you that. You decided to check ‘find my friends’ since it kinda worried you that he wasnt home.

When his location showed that he was at an apartment complex your heart sank. A thousand possibilities were running through your head as you threw some sweats on, grabbed your keys and headed out the door to find your boyfriend.

The whole car ride you were full of anxiety and your brain wouldn’t shut up. Once you pulled up to the complex you quickly ran to the car not in the mood to play around if he was fucking someone else. You followed the gps and walked right up to the front door but you noticed it was open slightly. So what did you do? You walked right into the dark apartment despite not knowing who or what you’d find.

But what you did find sent bile to your throat. There was a figure dressed in all black standing over who you thought was your boyfriend with a knife in their hand.

“BUCKY!” You screamed as you ran over to the body on the floor. It wasnt until you got up close that you realized that the person wasnt Bucky…It was the barista that served you your coffee this morning. Your thoughts ran wild as you mumbled incoherent words under your breath.

But those were quickly cut off once your heard the masked figured laughing. You whipped your head around and stared at the figure in horror.

“Oh Kotenok you’re so precious” The masked figured said as he slowly removed his mask. Your eyes widened as you saw who was under the mask… It was Bucky. You quickly stood up and backed away from him as you started to hyperventilate.

“W-What the hell?” You finally said after you finally slowed your breathing down. Bucky chuckled as he came closer to you and wiped some sweat off his forehead.

“I guess it’s finally time to tell you-“ He said as she took off the costume and dropped the knife. You stared at him as his hand come up to caress your cheek. “You see kotenok i never meant for any of this to happen- But these people-t-they flirt with you and get too close to you. And i cant have that, i cant have people wanting to take what’s mine. And see i wouldn’t mind so much that people mindlessly flirt with you… if you didn’t flirt back” He seethed as he grabbed your face.

You were speechless at his confession never in a million years did you think he’d do this. But the idea that you’re his motive, that he just wants to keep you to his self is intoxicating. You look up at him with doe eyes before you finally find the words to say.

“You do all of this to make sure that i stay yours” Your voice heightens in excitement as you wait for his response.

His grip tightens on your face as he speaks. “Yes kotenok i do- i cant stand the thought of someone else having you the way i do” He confess as his eyes darken at the way you smirk.

“That’s- the hottest thing i think you’ve ever said to me” Bucky smiles devilishly at your words and suddenly picks you up and pushes you against the wall. His lips are on yours within a seconds time and the kiss is the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done.

“Put the mask back on” The words come out breathless as your chest rises due to the lack of air. He smirks as he walks you over to the couch and lays you down before grabbing the mask and knife again. He put the mask back on and then slowly stalks towards you and he twirls the knife in his hand.

“Oh fuck” You whisper under your breath when he climbs on top of you. Even though you cant see his face you know for a fact he’s smirking. He wastes no time in ripping off your shirt along with your sweats leaving you in just your panties.

“So pretty” His voice comes out a little muffled as he speaks due to the mask but it made it so much hotter. He then takes the knife that he wiped off and drags it across your bare chest. Your breath hitches in your throat as the cool metal hits your skin. Bucky then drags the knife down your torso and slices your panties off and drags it across your bare pussy.

“Please” You beg as you grab the hand with the knife and place it on your stomach. He places the blade on your skin and digs it in just a little, “Mark me” Bucky wastes no time in carving his initials into your skin he leaves a little ‘J.B.B’ on your stomach, before wiping the blood away with his thumb. Your grab his thumb and slowly bring it to your mouth before you clean his thumb off.

“Fucking hell kotenok” He groans at your actions. Bucky grows impatient as he throws the knife across the room making note to pick it back up later. He then spreads your pussy and starts to play with your clit and your back arches in reaction.

“Please daddy” You beg and then he adds two fingers into you in a swift motion and chooses a relentless pace. This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever done but right now, in this moment you dont give a flying fuck.

The pleasure you feel is beyond intense as Bucky curls his fingers and hits your g-spot just right. You let out a screaming moan as your first orgasm bursts through you. “Oh fuck” You breathe out the best you can as you slowly takes off his pants and boxers exposing his hard cock standing at attention for you.

“I want you so bad please daddy” He doesn’t need much motivation after you give him the go ahead. Bucky slams his cock into you hard and fast and you scream in response to his movement.

“Yes yes yes” You chant as you sit up and wrap your arms around him as Bucky slams into you. The room is filled with the filthy noises of your pussy and his balls slapping your skin.

“Gonna fucking breed you kotenok” He grunts and picks up his speed chasing his high. You can feel your second orgasm build up as he talks about breeding you.

“Oh please breed me daddy- fuck- wanna be full of your babies” You plead as you grind your hips down on his cock earning a guttural moan from him.

“Yea? You want that your little slut? You wanna have my kids?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. You dont find the words to respond and just opt for nodding your head. And in turn Bucky changes the position so he’s back on top and he thrusts into you like never before. Your moans become louder and his pace gets rougher. The both of you end up finishing within a matter of minutes and once you do you take the mask off him and just stare at him.

You take a moment and rub your thumb over his bottom lip before you bring him into a passionate kiss. Bucky grunts into the kiss and wraps his arms around your waist lovingly. After you break the kiss you look into his blue eyes and smile softly.

“I love you” You whisper and put your forehead against his. In this moment you love him more than you ever thought possible. Did he murder someone? Yes. Did he kill almost a dozen people just for you? Yes. But he also did it because he loves you and that just makes your heart swell. You get an idea after a minute of just looking at him.

“Let’s clean this place up and then run away, Lets go some where else where it can be just us” You say with a pleading looking in your eyes. Bucky agrees and nods before getting you both dressed again.

The two of you clean up the mess and decide of what to do with the body before heading back home to pack your things. That night while in a way tragic was also the start of the rest of your lives together and you couldn’t be happier.

~the end~

i do not give permission for my work to me translated or copied on other websites

[ganondoodle]

actively fighting a full blown panic attack born out of sadness and anger after having to drive by yet another victim on the side of the road

it makes me livid how accepted it is to just let cats suffer and die disgustingly horrid deaths and live awful short lives just so what, for what?? so you dont have to play with them for an hour a day??? when i was little it was just kinda normal that they disappeared at some point, i didnt understand what it actually meant until our outdoor cat i loved dearly was found in the bushes near our house in a condition so horrible my dad has never told me and i have never dared to ask, she only made it to 6 and had horrible scars and infections before that i allowed my family to convince me to let my first own cat outside, we only had her for a year, she died at only 2 years old, i am still suffering from the guilt, it has never let me go, she went missing for a week and i walked the entire vilage up and down every day, yelling her name, wandering into the forest alone, talking to every stranger i met until one morning my mom told me that our neighbour who works for the city asked if we had a white cat with a very specific collar she had- he found her on a busy road crossing in the next bigger city, i never even got to bury her, its haunting me, the thought of her wandering lost and scared in the city for a week until meeting an awful end gives me headaches, the fact that i was the last one to see her alive, that i put her outside bc we were late for school and had to leave quickly, that she had come home with oil in her fur from crawling through maschines and cars before, that i was worried but still didnt act, that it is my fault, any time i am up to late its coming back, it will never let me go, if i had stood my ground and not allow her outside unless on a leash or similar shed still be alive today, any time i read a description at our local shelter it comes back, they still advocate for outside cats, all of them, even if they have only been an indoor one before, its madness my older sister had a cat, i dont even know how old he got but it wasnt long either, he got hit by a car in front of their house, she has two now again and the only reason she hasnt let them outside is because they havent shown much interest in it, i tried to warn her before and she didnt listen and shes still resistent, even after losing one too

i have seen so many on the side of the road, anywhere i drive i see them, i cannot forget a single one, we are surrounded by farm land and all its giant maschinery, its still common to poison rodents, why do people value them so little, you wouldnt let your dog just live outside in the woods and streets for half the day or more, you wouldnt just throw your guniea pigs on the road and tell them have fun, you wouldnt just let your bird roam outside, there probably assholes that do that too but you cannot tell me its as common as outside cats

i dont understand it, i dont, i wont, i never will, i will never forgive myself this poor little animal that was my responsibility having to pay the price of my ignorance, or my own weakness letting my family convince me despite the awful way we lost one before, it makes me want to explode it hurts my brain in grief and anger i can barely contain

cats deserve to live a safe and long life, i get only having them inside may feel like you are locking them up, but do you think that not doing so is worth having them die a painful death? being poisonend? on purpose even by disgusting people that hate them? abused and chased by other animals and dogs? hurt and lost? cutting their lifespan in half? if they even make it that far? the amount of wildlife that they kill unnecessarily so when all of that is already in a steep decline everywhere? and if they eat what they hunt get infected with diseases or again, poison? die somewhere in agony? if cared for they dont care about going outside, plenty can be leash trained or given a secure way to roam like those cat proof aviary like things, if you dont want to put effort into caring for a cat DONT GET ONE, ALL pets require adequate care, and if you think cats are the easiest bc you only have to feed them every now and then IF they come home? you suck, you are an asshole, i hate you and you do not care about them, if you just want to occasionalyl feed and pet an animal go to the petting zoo

(this is about pet cats of people who can absolutely afford to keep them healthily inside, i know feral cats and those in poor neighbourhoods are a thing, even if not here where i live, and thats a whole other but still similar problem and not the point of this post)

[misseviehyde]

INFLUENCED

Bryan sometimes wondered if he should have told his daughter Sarah about his plan to help her with her bullying problem - but by now it was far too late.

It wasn't like there was much of Bryan left anyway. Beckie had seen to that.

It had all started a few weeks ago when Sarah had come home in tears again. She told her Dad that she was being emotionally manipulated and abused by a brat in her class, Beckie.

Beckie wasn't like the other girls. She was... better. She had bigger tits, blonder hair, more expensive clothes and makeup. In short she was a total bully - and like all bullies she enjoyed having a victim to humiliate.

That victim was Sarah. Beckie had correctly identified that the pink haired goth girl would be an easy target. She undermined Sarah at every chance and mocked her for being different.

At first the other girls around them seemed uncomfortable, but none of them said or did anything. Some of them had been friends with Sarah for a long time - but their silence was deafening.

That didn't last long. Beckie had a strange influence on others. Gradually at first, but increasingly rapidly they began to change. They began to dress like Beckie, talk like Beckie - even starting to join in her bullying.

It was like some evil hive mind had taken control of the girls and made them think and act just like Beckie.

They began to get boob jobs and wear tight skirts and tiny tops. They dumped their boyfriends and began to fuck black guys only. High heels and boots replaced comfortable trainers and shoes. Attitudes became troublesome, arrogance grew and bit by bit they became empty souless brats who loved to tease and lead on all the boys

All except Sarah who was left isolated and tormented. Beckie and her goons were now everywhere and Sarah didn't even want to go to college anymore.

That's why Bryan decided to have it out with Beckie. This couldn't go on.

He didn't tell Sarah his plan - not that it was much of a plan. Just go and confront Beckie, get her to leave his daughter alone.

He drove over to the luxurious condo where Beckie and her rich divorced Mom (four husbands) lived. There was a pink Landrover parked on the drive and a giant swimming pool at the back.

Banging on the door Bryan was relieved when Beckie opened it. She was wearing a tiny LA Boutine bikini set and her long blonde hair fell wantonly over her shoulders. It was hard to read her expression thanks to the mirror shades she wore.

"What the fuck do you want?" she yawned boredly examining a long bejewelled manicured nail.

"I want you to leave my daughter Sarah alone!" grunted Bryan in what he hoped was an intimidated way.

Beckie's whole demeanour changed as she realised who he was. Her lips twitched into a naughty smile and her blue eyes twinkled excitedly as she tore off her shades. It wasn't the reaction he had expected.

"Nooooo fucking way! This is so cool. Get in here."

Giggling excitedly, Beckie yanked Bryan into the house. Sliding her small sexy hand into his she lead him inside and he dazedly followed.

A pink fog seemed to instantly descend around Bryan. Rational decisions and thoughts became sluggish and hard. A dreamlike quality now surrounded the day and Bryan found himself going along with his daughters bully.

"What did you say your name was? Bailey?"

"No, Bryan," he croaked weakly.

"I prefer Bailey. Beckie and Bailey sounds a lot hotter right Bailey?"

Bailey blinked. He didn't know why but it made a lot of sense. Yes, Bailey was a much better name.

"So Bailey, does Sarah know you're here?"

"No, I didn't tell anyone."

"Fuck yeah, this is perfect. None of those bitches have quite got what it takes to be my bestie. I was wondering which of them to fully transform, but now you just walked out of the blue and gave me the perfect answer. If no one knows you came here, they'll never find you once we're done."

Bailey blinked. He didn't know what the fuck Beckie was talking about.

"What the hell are you talking a..."

"First rule Bailey. You NEVER interrupt me when I'm talking and you never question me. Whatever I say you go along with, right? That's what besties like you are for! I'm the hot one and you're my sexy little shadow. You don't have any opinions of your own, you just copy mine."

Bailey blinked and his mouth clamped shut. Besties? What the fuck was this demented bitch talking about? Still he should probably do as she said. She probably knew best. In fact Beckie seemed really cool and hot. He bet her opinions were much better than his.

"Second rule is we always dress to impress. I need to get out of this bikini and we need to get you in some decent clothes. Come upstairs with me now."

Bailey followed Beckie up to her bedroom. The pink fog was stronger now. It was like the longer he was in her presence, the easier it was to go along with what she wanted.

"You're obviously not as strong minded as your daughter anyway. The influence doesn't seem to work very well on her. Not that I care so long as it affects everyone else. I'm the best right?"

Bailey just nodded stupidly and said, "Yes Beckie."

"Well you seem very susceptible which is pretty hot. Seeing as you're going to be my bestie I'll tell you about it. I don't know how or why but I was born with a power. I call it the influence. It let's me change reality and people around me. I always get the things that I want eventually. People just change to match my expectations. Those losers at college are all well on the way to being popular girls like me, but it can take time. When I really want something though the influence gets more powerful."

Bailey nodded along, "Wow, that sounds hot Beckie."

"It is hot. It's so fucking hot. It makes me feel like a God. Right now Bailey I've never wanted anything so much as to turn you from that losers nice kind Daddy into my evil, bitchy bestie. Just look at how fast the influence is working. Look down."

Bailey looked down. Whilst he had been talking to Beckie he hadn't noticed how tingly his body had been. He gasped. His male clothes now hung loose and baggy over his body which had shrunk to nearly half the size. He was an inch shorter than Beckie now and his arms and legs seemed stick thin. His tummy was as flat as a washboard and all his body hair was gone.

"Take off those stupid fucking clothes - you look dumb. We need to get you into a new outfit right now.

Bailey didn't object as Beckie helped him out of his clothes. He noticed his skin looked younger. His hands were now more delicate and his feet were tiny. His whole body felt like a dolls. He looked down and gawped at his crotch. His dick was... it was gone!

"What are you staring at Bailey? Haven't you ever seen a pussy before. Kind of weird seeing as you're a girl."

Bailey frowned and she shook her head - but it was hopeless to fight the influence. Of course she was a girl. She had always been a girl.

Grabbing Bailey's hand Beckie pulled her into her bathroom and shoved her in front of the mirror. Bailey gasped at the vision in front of her.

A beautiful girl with small but perfect tits, a perky ass and long dark hair was looking back at her.

"Look how pretty you are Bailey. You're worthy to be my bestie. Now let's get you into a bodystocking and fix that makeup."

Bailey loved feeling Beckie's skillful fingers fix her lipstick, mascara and foundation. "Of course you know how to do all this right?" smirked Beckie. "Show me... you try."

Bailey took the brush from her besties hands and skillfully continued to apply her makeup as if she had done it all her life.

It felt like she was replacing her old personality and thoughts as she applied more makeup. Being feminine felt so good.

"Good girl, you look so hot! Now the third rule is that being a bitch always feels good. From now on you are going to be a bully. Being my bestie means you have to be just as mean and as cruel as I am."

"Yes Beckie, that sounds hot," giggled Bailey as she felt her morals melt away.

"Then say it," gloated Beckie.

"Being a bitch always feels good. I'm cruel and mean and I like it."

As she said the words Bailey felt her nipples get hard and her pussy getting wet.

"And who's the biggest loser we know?" hissed Beckie with evil glee. "Who deserves to get bullied every day?"

"S... Sarah?" guessed Bailey, feeling a flash of guilt that then faded to never return.

"That's right. Doesn't it feel good to know you're better than her? What does she mean to you?"

"N...nothing... she means nothing. I fucking hate her. I want to bully and humiliate her for being such a skank."

Bailey giggled as the words oozed out of her mouth. Yessss this is what she wanted. Wasn't it?

Beckie lifted Bailey back off the bed and walked her to the mirror.

"Very good. Now tell me... who are you?"

"Me? I'm Bailey your bestie and I love being a fucking brat. I hate Sarah and I share all your opinions."

Part of Bailey suddenly rebelled... a bit of her that was shrinking fast. She groaned and gripped her head. "Noooo you can't stop me, this is my body now. I'm Bailey and I love it."

Giggling Beckie slid a long glass dildo into her besties hands. "Don't worry babe, it's just the last part of your old pysche trying to fight back. Make yourself cum and he'll give in forever. My influence is too strong!"

Lying on the bed, Bailey unpopped her lingerie and exposing her tight pussy slowly slid the dildo inside.

"I'm a... unnnnff bitch, I'm a bully I ooooohhh hate Sarah."

Pump. Pump. Pump.

Wet squelches filled the air and the sounds of panting moans as Bailey pleasured her new body and the final barriers to her mind began to break down to Beckie's obscene influence.

"That's it. You're just like me now Bailey. You're a rich, mean, popular slut. You will never escape my influence."

"Yesssss I'm a rich slut and I'm a oooooh fucking bitch. I'm a BIIIIITTTTTCHHHH!"

Bailey screamed and yanked the dildo out as her pussy throbbed and she began to squirt. Her brain went white hot as her new personality and thoughts locked forever.

She was such a bitch and she loved it.

Beckie stroked her hair and giggled. "Don't worry, my influence will give you a new identity. Everyone will falsely remember you've always been my bestie. Well everyone except Sarah. We're going to have so much fun together babe..."

**********

Sarah cried as her Mom tried to comfort her. Bryan had been missing for weeks now and the police couldn't provide any answers. She'd barely slept, barely eaten. No one could find even a trace of him.

Her Mom had taken her out for coffee and they were sat outside in the sunshine when she saw her bullies approaching.

Beckie and Bailey laughed and giggled to each other as they passed, saying something mean. Bailey dropped a note as she passed and despite herself Sarah picked it up.

It was a scrumpled missing note - one of the ones she'd put up everywhere. It showed Bryan and offered a reward for information about his disappearance.

Someone had written in lipstick on the note.

"Your Daddy hates you so he left home. You're a fucking loser."

Sarah felt more tears come as she saw the mean girls laughing at her reaction. In their centre a gloating Beckie smiled approvingly at her protegee Bailey.

She really was a great influence on the bitch...

The End

[diagnosedpsychosis]

Protective Hotch

Description: There is a copycat the BAU are after, so Hotch and reader go to prison to talk to the original offender. The prisoner makes a few suggestive comments about the reader that Hotch doesn't like.

Made up, not a CM episode.

Word Count: 2.5k

______________________________________________________________

You had only ever stepped inside a prison a handful of times before. Literally. You could count every visit on one hand, all whilst being able to recount why you'd gone those 4 times in the first place; now 5.

The first 3 were all for the same thing, and the same person. A serial rapist and murderer you had helped catch years earlier was being interviewed, and not only did you have to supervise, but perform a psych eval on him as well.

The fourth time, you were in and out in record time. Another prisoner you'd put away had died and you were there purely to collect the few belongings in his cell. When the Warden of the Penitentiary had called you to inform you of the inmates passing, you offered to come down from Virginia. The Warden suggested not bothering, and that they'd just throw his belongings in the rubbish bin, which is exactly why you got on the earliest plane you possibly could. This particular inmate had victims he'd not told you about, and you just wanted to make sure with your own eyes he didn't name them in or on anything in his cell.

Today though, on your fifth time inside prison walls, you weren't alone. Your company came in the form of your long time workplace crush, Aaron Hotchner. The pressure of having not only your crush, but the BAU's Unit Chief with you put an immense weight on your shoulders.

Usually you weren't fazed by the cold glares and almost bored expressions. Aaron Hotchner exuded power and had subconsciously mastered the art of intimidation, but that wasn't what made the hairs on the back of your neck stand as he walked beside you, down prison halls.

It was how close beside you he walked. The outside of his arm brushed yours with each step and sway of his arms, and even though you could see, in the corner of your eye, his head facing forward, you could feel his eyes bouncing all over the place.

He stood close not because he wanted to, but because even if every cell door was closed, and every hall had 3 guards tending to it at all times, he didn't feel 100% safe, which meant he wasn't comfortable having you around. Because he knew, that if by some fluke chance the doors buzzed open, you would be every prisoners target.

He knew it. You knew it. The inmates knew it.

"Oh Hey Baby, how about taking a detour and stopping by my cell?" Somebody off to the side hollered, which lead to a loud array of crude comments made your way. You ignored them well, but Hotch seemed to take offence for you. You were almost at the end of the hall, but that didn't stop Hotch from protectively stepping even closer, almost tripping you up with how close he now was.

You both got to the door at the end of the hall, the guard standing beside it nodding at the two of you before letting you in. You walked in first, Hotch shutting the door behind himself as you stepped up to the one sided glass, looking at the man you both were about to question.

"Certainly not the kind of man I'd enjoy being alone with" You stated, Hotch stopped beside you and looking into the visitors room, his arm brushing yours again. Relatively old and greying, Martin Gould was NOT a sight for sore eyes. He wasn't attractive, which is what ended up being a factor of his killings. He'd ask a woman out, she'd reject him, he'd later stalk her, and then rape and mutilate her, in her own home.

"I wouldn't have brought you if I didn't need you. I'm not going to leave your side. I promise" Hotch told you. When you and the team had been going through victimology of the copycats and then compared them to the original killers, you'd all come to the same conclusion. You were his type, to the T.

That's why you were here. Not because your skills were valued and appreciated...but because you were this guys type, and you hated that. You hated feeling like you had to prove yourself more, in a team you'd been in for years. You worked 5 times as hard as everyone else, and yet still felt like you'd gotten nowhere at being seen as an asset to the team. Nobody had ever said it to your face, hell maybe they'd never even thought that way about you, but you were an avid overthinking pessimist.

"Everything is going to be fine" Hotch reassured you again when you didn't reply to his promise. You sighed, grabbing the door that separated you two from Martin Gould.

"Easy for you to say. He raped and mutilated 13 women" Before Hotch got time to process what you'd said and the weight of your words, you opened the door and stepped inside. Martin Gould immediately looked to you as you entered, paying little to no attention to Hotch as he followed behind, and took the seat beside you at the metal table.

"Wow. Just wow" Martin sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his open palm, as he stared at you like you were the brightest star in the sky. At least someone appreciated you.

"Martin, I'm SSA y/n y/l/n, and this is SSA Aaron-"

"Has anyone ever told you you've got the eyes of a rare jewel?" You ignored him, and continued on like he'd never interrupted you in the first place.

"-Hotchner. We're with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit-"

"No ring, I don't see how that's possible. You must have men down at your feet 24/7" Martin interrupted you again, shuffling forward in his seat slightly to get closer to you.

"We're here to investigate a string of serial rape and mutilations. Same signature as yours from 7 years ago" Hotch speaks for the first time, and you both notice Martin's jaw twitch at the sound of his voice. Martin takes a breath, ignoring Hotch before smiling back at you.

"Couldn't be me, Sweetheart" Martin tells you softly, lifting his hands and showing you the chains restricting his movement.

"It's a copycat, somebody who admires you. He's probably sent you hundreds of letters over the course of the last 7 years" Martin holds his smirk as he listens to you, enjoying the sound of your voice and the way your lips move with each word.

"They would've started with him confiding in you, expressing his share of troubles involving women rejecting him. Then they would've started becoming a little more aggressive" You state, Hotch straightening his posture, one of his tells that he's about to talk.

"Probably wrote 'What is wrong with me?' over and over again" Hotch adds, Martin's smile faltering as he speaks again.

"And then his most recent letters would've been him talking about women like we're a virus. Something nasty that could be caught and had to be terminated" Martin shook his head ever so lightly, his smile growing with every second you continued talking to him. He's a classic narcissist and thinks that the fact you're talking directly to him and looking him dead on, means you're flirting with him.

"As pretty as you are, you're just like them, aren't you?" He asked slowly making you frown.

"I'm sorry?" Martin leans forward a tiny bit more, the smile on his face long gone and replaced with a look of repulsion.

"A needy whore, asking for it-"

"That's enough" Hotch stated.

"Begging for it. You all lead us on with your smiles and your glances, but then you laugh in our faces and tell us to get lost" So that's why he thought these women deserved it. Because to him, an innocent smile and a half a second passing by glance meant flirting. So when he'd walk up and randomly ask a woman out and she'd say no, he'd see her as a tease, a deceiver, someone who needed to pay.

"You're nothing less, Agent y/n y/l/n. Just a whore with a bitching, lying mouth, and a pussy asking to be-" Hotch sliding back in his chair and abruptly standing up caught you off guard more than Martin Gould's random verbal attack.

"Y/n, out" Hotch demanded, leaving no room to argue against his direct order. But you did anyway.

"No, Hotch, I'm fine-"

"Y/l/n, out or you're suspended for a week" Your face contorts with shock. Never has Hotch ever been so forward and aggressive towards you in your life and you hated how being on the receiving end of his threat made you feel.

"What?" You stood and raised your voice, finding Hotch completely unreasonable in this moment. You were with a prisoner who know who the unsub was, you could easily get it out of him, and now here he was sending you out. He brought you all this way for a couple sentences?

"You're not being forceful enough, Agent. Bend her over and teach her a-" Martin's words became background noise as Hotch took your arm, backing you up to the door of the visiting room, before opening the door and practically shoving you out. He let go before you could rip your arm from his grasp, and shut the door in your face.

Not knowing what the hell just happened and why the hell Hotch reacted like that, you storm over to the one sided glass window, and slam your palm against the button under the window that allows you to hear what is being said inside the visiting room.

"I don't care who you are, or where we are. If you ever talk to my Agent like that, ever again, I'll make you sure I am the last thing you ever see" Hotch threatened, the look on his face sending a wave of goose bumps over every inch of your burning skin. He looked furious.

"Probably not the best place to threaten killing me, Agent Hotchner" Martin stated, trying to hold back his laughter. It quickly died down at the expression adorning Hotch's face. It was almost like he was being challenged.

"I don't need to kill you to take away your sight, Gould. All I need is a speculum and a pair of scissors" Hotch replied and you watched in shock as for the first time since talking with him, Martin looked anything but cocky. Hotch used Martin's current state to his advantage.

"His name" Martin hesitated, glancing at the one way window like he knew you were standing behind it.

"Dane Hansen" The second the name left his mouth, Hotch was turning around and exiting the visiting room, only to be met with an annoyed you, giving him the cold shoulder. His eyes stayed glued to yours as he shut the door behind himself.

"Don't give me that look."

"I was given about 10 seconds from the first time you told me to get out before you threatened to suspend me. If you want me gone just say it, Hotch" You knew you were probably being unreasonable but you were annoyed. What so quickly went from 'get out' turned to 'if you don't you're suspended'. It escalated in seconds and made you wonder how long they'd been sitting on the tip of Hotch's tongue.

"Was I the only one that heard the way he talked about you?" Hotch questioned, clearly annoyed by your assumption. You take a step toward him.

"Simply sending me out of the room doesn't stop me from hearing it, Hotch" You brought attention to your hand by tapping the button again, turning off the speaker. Hotch took a step forward.

"He was getting satisfaction out of you being in the room" My presence. My face. My body. Not my skills, and Hotch knew that. He only brought me to show me off.

"Be honest with me, Hotch. Do you bring me along for these things because you think I'm the worst profiler on the team, so I won't be needed as much back there with everyone?" Hotch frowns at me, turning his head to the right slightly.

"I have never once called you a bad profiler."

"You've never called me a good one either, Aaron. Believe it or not, but I'm one of those people that need to be told they're doing good to keep doing good. I need the validation, otherwise I lose energy and end up giving a half assed effort" You immediately realised the first name slip, but if Hotch noticed it he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he takes another step that makes him dangerously close. You can smell his musky cologne, and if either of you take another step your face would be buried in his chest.

"Y/n, you're not a good profiler, you're an amazing profiler. I didn't bring you along today to show you off as a piece of meat to Gould. You're his type, but so is Prentiss. I wanted you here. I wanted you on the plane, and I wanted you in the car. I like your company, I like your perspective and I like your brain" You suck in a shaky breath, embarrassingly overwhelmed so quickly by Hotch's compliment. Even though it's only a few things, it means so much because he's not the kind of guy to get even slightly sentimental about anything.

"You think I don't notice when the overthinking side of you takes over the reasonable side? You're an asset to our team, y/n. I didn't bring you along for the benefit of the case, I brought you along for myself" Tense silence consumes the room and the air the two of you breathe. For what feels like minutes, you two stand, almost toe to toe staring at each other.

There's an achingly intense energy floating around the two of you, and before looks go any further or before either of you can slice the tension in half, Hotch's phone rings, and you both rear back at the shriek.

Your shoulders sag in disappointment and you swear you see the same with Hotch's, but he's back in boss mode too fast for you to really catch a good look as he listens to somebody on the other end of the line.

"We're just heading out now. Yeah, we got a name; Dane Hansen" Hotch ends the phone call and his eyes meet yours again as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

"We've got to go" You press your lips into a tight smile and nod. Walking past him, you go to grab the door that'll lead you back into the hall, but before you reach it a large, warm hand wraps around your wrist stopping you.

You turn back to Hotch, and again he's toe to toe with you. His grip on your arm is soft, and the look on his face mixed with his parted lips tells you all you need to know; he wants to say something.

You don't know what he's thinking, but you also don't want to force it out of him. You smile and slowly pull away from his grip before patting his arm.

"It's okay, Aaron. Come on, let's go."

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[itsohh]

Despite Part 4

A/N: Female reader

Summary: After a busy few weeks of work, Albert finds the time to show up once again at your apartment. This time for personal reason, to ask you out.

Warnings: Mention of harassment.

Word count: 2094

AO3 Masterlist Part 3 Part 5

“Tell me what you feel.”

“It hurts.”

-

It was late afternoon, music filled the air around you. Your focus was on the papers that were displayed all around you. There was a decent amount of photos, most of them rarer gorey and off-putting for most. Not you though, hyper-focused on the information in front of you, you didn't hear the knock at the door. Not until about the third knock when it cut through the music and you jumped up. 

You quickly rushed over to the door and opened it. There stood your Captain, he wore a plain black shirt and dress pants. It was one of the first times you had seen him in something that wasn't the S.T.A.R.S. uniform.

“Oh Captain Wesker, I didn't expect,” your hands felt your body for the pager on your hip. “Ah did something happen with the pager system? Is everything-”

“-I'm not here on business.” His face was directly on yours and your breath hitched for a moment. Your blood raced inside of you and you couldn’t help the way that your mind short-circuited slightly.

It had been two weeks since the pair of you shared that moment on the RPD roof, both of you had been so busy in the storm of work that had ramped up just after Christmas neither of you had a chance to talk about it. “I see, please come in.” You opened the door for him to enter and you slipped away from it back to your living room. “Shoes off please!” You called over your shoulder and went towards your record player. The music turned from a loud storm into a small simmer of background sound after you turned it down. 

When you stood back up you were met with the sight of Albert in his plain black socks next to your couch. His eyes were on the case files that decorated almost the entire couch, coffee table and floor. “Ah forgive the mess, I would have tidied up if I knew you were coming.” You moved to pick up the papers and organise them into a stack. 

“I recognise this, one of the department's cold cases. A serial killer active from 1989 to 1993. Killed 15 women.” His head turned to you and you pressed your lips together. 

“That's right, it almost became 16 when his victim got away and he didn't resurface.” 

“Planning on becoming a detective are we?” He folded his arms as he leaned against the wall behind your couch and you let out a laugh. 

“Gods no.”

“You just spend your free time working?”

“I like to familiarise myself with history. How can I avoid making the mistakes of the past if I don't know it? It helps in recognizing things in the field.” You looked away from the man for a second. “I'm also a bit curious, to be honest, from a medical standpoint.”

“Some people might not like you bringing up old cold cases.” 

“Don't worry I'm not making a fuss. I'm just looking at them, not unless I find something really big. It would be cruel to give the victims' families false hope.” You finished stacking the files and moved them from your living room into your home office where your computer was. There you put the files into your desk cabinet and locked it. 

When you returned to the living room you found Wesker looking at a notebook that you had left out. “You’re rather thorough in your observations,” Wesker spoke without looking up from it. 

“If you're going to do something you might as well do it right.” You shrugged and he put the notebook back on the coffee table. 

“Your phone is still disconnected, I tried calling.” Your eyes went to the phone on the other side of your couch on a side table. The cable was still ripped out. “I haven't got around to changing my number again.” 

Albert's brow raised just above his sunglasses and you found a seat on the armchair that sat on the short side of the coffee table. 

“It's a whole thing, an old fling that won't leave me alone. He's harmless, just annoying.” 

Wesker leaned forward and you could see the subtle changes in his face, the way it hardened at the information. “Are you being stalked?” The direct question had you choke for a moment and you shook your head. 

“No. He never shows up in person, just calls me a lot. We had a casual thing going on and then he tried to start playing games and wasting my time so I broke things off. He never really got over that. It's just easier to have it off the hook. You guys normally page me anyway.”

“I need to be able to contact you.”

“You can just page me.”

“We both know why I can't page you asking to go to dinner now can I?” 

The question had you freeze and your lips parted. “You want to take me out for dinner? What, tonight?”

“It's the only night I have off after all.”

“Yeah, I'd like to. I just ugh- first I want to make sure we're on the same page. Romantically speaking, I don’t want what we've got to blow up in our faces. ” 

Albert leaned back on your couch and nodded for you to continue. “I normally do casual things just to destress and whatnot but I don't want that with you. I enjoy your company too much for that.” Heat rushed to your face and you tried to keep your voice as level as you possibly could. 

“This can't affect our workplace. Ever. Neither of us should ever hesitate because of this, I don't want special treatment, nothing. But on the flip side, I don't want you to go harder on me because of it. We stay the same. You're my Captain and I'm under your command.”

“Responsible enough, I agree.”

“Out here though when it's just the pair of us I want us to be equals. Always. There's no rank, no nothing.” 

“Of course.”

“In the worst case scenario and this doesn't work out it can't affect work. Or if we fight we have to put that aside. What’s part of work stays in work and what personal stays personal.”

“Were reasonable enough adults, I'm sure we'll manage.” Albert's head tilted down and his sunglasses slid down ever so slightly. The angle allowed him to look over them and directly at you, those pale grey-blue eyes into yours. 

“I believe this goes without saying but since we're putting everything on the plate, I don't share.” 

“I figured that, I've made a few calls.” 

He side-eyed your phone and you shrugged. 

“It's only physically disconnected, I plug it back in when I make outgoing calls.”

“Call your phone company, they can have his number blocked.” Albert pushed the middle of his glasses up on his face which hid his eyes once again. 

“It is, he uses payphones.” Albert opened his mouth but you continued speaking before he could say anything. “Look he's just annoying that's all, I feel kinda sorry for the dude. Yeah, he's a pain but he's not a bad man. You don't have to do anything alright? I know where your mind is going, I'll get my number changed, it's just a hassle I've been putting off.” 

“Hmm.” His hand reached for your face where his bent knuckles brushed against your cheek. Silently you leaned into his touch and your eyes flicked close as you enjoyed his touch. They brushed back and once again his hand cupped the side of your face. His hand was closed, the top of his thumb settled to the side of your outer eye and his fingers rested on the connection from your check to your neck. 

Wesker's palm was rather close to your lips. It gave you the opportunity to rotate your head and plant a kiss on it before you moved back into place. 

“Go out to dinner with me?” He finally asked directly.

You nodded which made the corner of his lips curl. “Do you mind if I go get ready? I hardly think this qualifies for whatever you have planned.” You gestured to the basic shirt and sweatpants you wore. 

“Take as long as you need, wear something nice.”

You stood up from the armchair and disconnected from the man. “I'll try not to be too long, feel free to change up the record if you like.” You smiled at him and he watched as you left the room and headed to your bedroom. 

About an hour later you stepped out of your bedroom in a rather long velvet dress. The dark blue dress would keep you warm and where the slit in the dress showed your legs, your pantyhose would do. You walked down the hallway from the master bedroom with a pair of heels in hand, you had already tapped up your feet to prevent any pain or pressure from them before you put on your pantyhose. 

When you reached the living room you found Wesker still rather interested in your notebook while music still softly played in the background. He had changed it at some point. If it was because the album had finished or because he preferred the change you didn't know. “Fleetwood Mac?” You raised a brow and sat down in the armchair to put your shoes on. 

“I find it more agreeable than most of your collection.”

The comment had you laugh and raise a brow. “Not a fan of rock?”

“It's distracting.” 

“Yeah, that's typically the idea.” You stood up from the chair and grabbed your wallet from the table. Every step you took echoed slightly on the wooden floor and you slipped the wallet into a small bag with a spaghetti strap. 

“How do I look?” You smiled and posed slightly for the man. The notebook slapped on the coffee table and he stood up from the couch. He didn't say anything until he was directly in front of you. The heels on your feet changed up your height but that didn't seem to matter to him. He leaned in towards you, his nose briefly brushed against your own and his lips once again took their time against yours. 

“Stunning.” His voice was low when the pair of you parted. “You look stunning, perfect.”

“Good. Shall we head out then? Doctor Wesker.” You paused before you said his name your eyes focused on the way he flashed you his teeth for a second. 

“It's not often I'm called that. When it's the pair of us, Albert is fine.” 

“Albert.” You clicked your tongue and tested his name. “How many people have the honour of calling you that?”

“Not many.”

A hum left your lips and you stepped back in to kiss the man once more. The action towards him was still rather new to you and took your breath away slightly with each moment. It was something you could certainly get used to. Despite him knowing exactly how lethal you could be, there was a level of gentleness whenever he touched you. His large fingers were careful not to bruise your skin when he cupped your face, his lips were somewhat little forceful but never imposing, it was a side of him that you never would have seen in the workplace. 

You took a step to head to the door only for your ankle to buckle. With wide eyes, you stumbled only to be promptly caught by Albert. His hand shot out at almost inhuman speed and grabbed your elbow. “Thanks, sorry. It's been a while since I wore anything like this.” 

“Hmm, no need to for my sake. I’d rather you be able to walk tomorrow.” He let go of your arm.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Besides, it’s nice to dress up once in a while.”

“Has it been a long time?” Albert asked as you went for your apartment door and the pair of you walked out into the hallway.

“Yeah, gods. I don’t even know the last time I dressed up let alone went on a date. I think maybe graduation.” You reached the elevator and stepped inside. 

“We’ll have to fix that then.”

You raised a brow at the man. “Already planning the next one? Aren't you thinking ahead a bit much?” Your voice was a tease as the elevator descended. 

“Am I wrong too? I plan everything I do that is worthwhile.”

“I'm worthwhile huh?” 

“Exceptionally.” 

[heartfullofleeches]

Some background on my college yan and older neighbor reader because I love both very much

Tedric "Teddie" Jones- [he/they]

Teddie has always been a quiet and reserved guy. Sheltered by their parents due to difficulties at birth, Teddie would eventually receive his first taste of the macabre world as a young teen when a mishap at the local movie rent had him receiving a documentary on serial killers in the state instead of the age appropriate film his parents had picked for them. Saving all their allowance and birthday money to fuel their new obsession, now 23 year old Teddie Jones chemistry major is a horror fanatic, and has had vivid fantasies about tormenting those who have caused trouble in their life - but never the drive to commit such acts

Like many in the community, he avoided Reader when they first moved in per instruction of his parents. Through brief interaction over the years, he framed them as someone to be cautious of, though admired their independency and closed off nature. When rumors of their past began to pop up, he was the first to do some digging and his admiration only grew. The two wouldn't formally meet until one afternoon when his normally attentive parents forgot to tell him they had had the locks changed that very morning. Not wanting to be caught in the brewing storm, Teddie knocked on reader's door and asked if they could climb their fence to get to his backyard. Reader refused as they wouldn't be able to get over without a few scrapes and instead invited them inside to wait it out. With the way reader stared at him, a part of Teddie feared there was more to their generosity and lured him in with the gesture of kindness to add them to the growing roster of missing persons reports, but as soon as Teddie sat down they-

Just talked.

Reader asked how he was doing in school. How his parents were. They asked why he never used that skateboard they saw his dad bring home for him which Teddie had to bashfully explain he had fallen too many times for the idea of learning to be fun. It was the only time their expression changed during the conversation. They scolded him for giving up so easily and told him to bring it over if he ever got the chance. Within two weeks, Teddie had a new mode of transportation to and from school. When he asked why they helped him Reader said he reminded them a lot of themself when they were younger. Always afraid of the what-ifs and pain in spite of taking action. They didn't want him to end up like them at their age - alone with no one to turn to.

In that short timeframe, Reader became Teddie's rock. Whenever he had a problem they were who he fled to without a second thought. They shared their knowledge with him and in turn Teddie tried to be that same beacon of light for them they had been for him. He wanted to be their crutch, someone they could depend on in their darkest hour. Whenever he had thoughts of hurting others they always showed up in some fashion - encouraging them for his bravery or clutching their hands around his as the two drove a blade into the chest of their victim. They'd wash off in the shower together and Teddie would finally get to see more of their bedroom than just the glimpses he caught from his window. They'd lie together and with adrenaline still coursing through their veins, Teddie would finally know the warmth of another living being. They wondered if the kids would be reader's first as well. They dreamed they'd be each other's first in other ways, but would be fine with any outcome that ended with them both happy and in each other's arms.

Teddie is aware Reader sees them as someone to mentor which they use to their advantage to receive a taste of what their heart truly desires. They beg on their knees for dating practice so they can ask out someone they met at a party. Some make out experience would be nice too. Teddie works hard to someday become the person Reader can proudly call their own. They want to give Reader the youth they lost and take them heal their wounded heart to the world around them. The people in it can all burn for what they've done to them, but there's so much good the two can do together it all out weights the bad. If only they'd give him the chance.

"Reader"

Ranging somewhere from late 20s to early 30s- Reader was severely in high school for the hapless crime of being in the wrong place in the wrong century, Reader's misfortune only got worse as the one time they fought back to result in the head trauma and later death of a bully. At this point their harassment had escalated to borderline torture which left Reader with scars to this day. Through witness testimony and their injuries, Reader was not punished by the law by tradition means and instead sent away from the psychological damage they innocent caused.

Mostly free from their past, Reader could not return home after what happened and moved into a suburban neighborhood in a home owned by a distant relative who had passed and descendants who couldn't bother with the upkeep. Reader has made their peace, but is still haunted by ghosts and lessens their stress by avoiding relatively everyone. Well, mostly everyone. They take pity on the shy kid next door, seeing a reflection of themselves in him. When they heard they knock at their door they see a chance to right some of their wrongs and help the poor guy out. With their assistance, that quiet guy comes more out of their shell by the day and even managed to make a couple friends at their college. They couldn't be prouder.

Teddie still clings to their hip which puzzles them now that he has others who tolerate his company, but it's nice to have another voice in their barren fortress they call a home. Their age gap isn't too far off, but Reader can't help but find some of his mannerisms a little.. odd. Sometimes he waits on their porch like a lost puppy despite having a key, and he seems damn near obsessed with their love life which is pretty much non-existent. Must be just city things. They brush off his more outlandish queries and jokes that they'll kiss him if he gets a high enough score on his paper. The color drains from their face when the results are sent out and Teddie waits excitedly for their reward

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Listing a few funny things that happened when Angel had to deal with the media, post rescuing everyone from Playtime Co:

Angel, still shaking from spending one week inside the factory and with dried blood still glued to their hair, smelling like hell, politely answering some questions while in the hospital while waiting for Dogday's emergency surgery to finish.

The media being obsessed with calling Angel, whose actual name is Raphael Taylor de Oliveira, "Angel" the moment they hear one of the toys referring to them as that.

Combine the religious imagery with Angel's poor little meow meow wet kitten born in a cardboard box with every disease face and we have a very, very easy way for making the narrative out to be "a kind ex-worker at Playtime Co. discovers that children were used as experiments inside the factory and risks their own life in order to save them".

Angel is instant-loved by Brazil the moment the first news start to arrive, which is something they're very proud of.

Angel having to hold Catnap and Mommy Long Legs by their hands while giving out an interview in their home, so neither one of them would be too mean to the poor reporters. Angel still has to tell them to be nicer though.

The cops and investigators having to explain why they didn't figure out there was something wrong with the factory when all Angel had to do was walk inside and say hello to the Huggy Wuggy statue.

A reporter explaining the horrific events while in the background Huggy stares at her like "smoll person :0}" and boops her. Cue to Angel saying sorry and anxiously guiding him away.

"What did you have to eat while trapped down there?", someone asks, and the toys all go "oh hahahaha. uhm. rats. and the bodies of our friends WHEN THEY INEVITABLY DIED FROM A DISEASE. we didnt hunt each other dw dw hahahahahaha".

Angel a few months later, after buying the farm, giving a "house tour" so people will know the kids are doing okay and stop pestering them about house-related questions. Angel is very excitedly telling the reporter about how much more space they have now while Catnap is eyeing a bird in the background. "Theo don't you think about that, you have food right there".

One of the mini critters listing all the toys that were gifted for them and saying "it's very nice, very chewable", I like how it tastes" and Angel looks at them like "so it's YOU who has been chewing the toys??????", with the reply being "and the doors as well!"

Catnap going from referring to Angel as "our savior" to simply "our mother" during any interviews or news reports where he somehow talks.

Everyone wanting to interview Dogday because he does, indeed, have a radiant and happy energy and audiences love him.

Angel saying "and the hut is the house of 1006, the first one to ever happen, but he would prefer if we just left him alone".

Poppy being someone who's always SUPER pleasant to work with, and excitedly telling the reporters everything they have been doing around the farm.

Angel sighing after finding out Prototype is Elliot Ludwig, KNOWING they'll have to tell the authorities so they can have license money and control over the Playtime Co. brand.

Angel turning to the family's lawyer like "you won't believe what I just found out", the lawyer saying "oh, this won't be the most absurd thing you told me yet", then after hearing Angel tell her about it going "oh, you are always full of surprises, uh. Uhm. Now that makes things complicated", and Angel laughing to the point of tears after that.

ALL the news reports during the trial against Playtime Co.'s higher ups and the negligent authorities. Kickin keeps a collection of the "best moments", which include Angel beating the ever living shit out of a higher up after he refers to the toys as "things" and "collateral damage" instead of "victims of human experimentation".

The news about the fact that apparently Elliot Ludwig became the first PlayCo. experiment ever, and Angel + Poppy having to deal with THAT.

Prototype's single public apparition, around 4/5 years post-rescue, because he had to go to court as well so Angel would have a chance of getting the rights to PlayCo. and all of its properties back to them.

The news when Dogday and Catnap get married, a whole decade post-rescue.

Angel just dropping the most cryptid information ever in social media or during one of the rare interviews they're willing to give after the initial years post-rescue. They tweet things like "I saw some people asking if any of the toys ever attacked me during the week I stayed at PlayCo, and I want everyone to know that all of them at some point did. But don't worry, I bit them back, we're all good now" and one time say "my husband and I like to grow tomatoes like this, but one of our daughters has been trying another way" and that's how everyone finds out Angel and Prototype are a Thing.

Craftycorn happily blogging her life as an artist and featuring all of the other toys during her videos, while Poppy does makeup and sewing tutorials, and the two of them doing collabs and livestreams often. During one of the streams Angel screams "THEODORE GRAMBELL LUDWIG OLIVEIRA DID YOU JUST HUNT A COYOTE AGAIN", and that's how Crafty and Poppy's fans discover everyone decided to add Ludwig Oliveira to their names.

I would say more but honestly this post has been getting pretty long so rip

[writeandsurvive]

Summary: Alden mistakes your relationship with Tobias Fornell for something it is not

Warnings: talks of grief, mentions of Emily Fornell's death, attack by a frame, wound, blood, jealousy, NCIS normal stuff

Author's note: I still think Emily's death was unnecessary but that's another debate. I had to give Tobias love bc damnit, he deserves the world. Based on ep 19x17 'Starting Over'

Permission ~ Alden Parker

Seeing Tobias Fornell walking into the bullpen brought some familiarity that instantly warmed your heart. You rushed to him, arms extended and hugged him pretty tight. "Hi sweetheart," he whispered, kissing the side of your head and returning the hug. He then greeted the rest of the team, included Alden, whom he hasn't seen in a long time. You smiled seeing them being friendly with each other and wished to see more of that.

Tobias started to talk about the victim, whom he sponsored in the grieving group, but it wasn't any help as Tobias thought Thomas was making progress. Eventually, the team got back to their desks to keep investigating while your favorite person said he was going to say hello to Jimmy down in Autopsy.

"Permission to go with?" You asked Alden.

"Um, yeah, sure."

You immediately grabbed Tobias's hand and the two of you walked towards the elevator, unaware that Alden stared until you were out of sight. In the elevator, the former FBI agent pulled you in for another hug. "How are you today, T?" You asked softly.

"I feel like I failed Thomas." He sighed. "But I'm glad to see you. I miss you."

"I miss you too. I'm sorry work has been crazy lately,"

"Hey, hey, don't apologize. I know how it is. I guess I miss having you at home."

After Emily's death, you made the choice to move in with Tobias without asking for his opinion. He was a mess - fairly so - and you didn't like the idea of him being alone. So you had grabbed your essentials, and made yourself at home in his spare bedroom. To be fair, Tobias hadn't had the strength to fight you on this, so he just let you. He even let you when you took a few days off to stay with him, try to get him out of bed even if it was just for a walk around the block. He let you feed him, hug him as he cried, take care of the house. You also took care of Emily's funeral and all the paperwork as Tobias couldn't bring himself to do it. He was dead inside and if it wasn't for you, he probably would've done the irreparable.

"You literally packed my stuff and brought them back to my place." You reminded him.

"Because an amazing woman like you shouldn't be living with her old ass broken friend." He kissed your cheek. "Alden wouldn't understand." He softly smiled.

"We are so not doing this again."

Luckily the elevator's doors opened immediately after.

The case was moving forward, and Tobias stayed around. He clearly wanted to be a part of the case, probably out of guilt and also perhaps he missed working cases. However Alden wasn't giving him anything to do, which makes sense when you think about it - he wasn't a federal agent anymore - but that frustrated you. Seeing your friend walking around the office like a lost puppy hurt.

"I can give T my laptop and he can help me with my research." You offered.

"I said no, Agent L/N." Alden answered firmly. "You're actually coming with me to see this other woman."

You sighed but grabbed your stuff anyways. You kissed Tobias's cheek before leaving, "Sorry I tried." You whispered.

Throughout the elevator ride and the walk to the car, you could feel Alden's frustration. He wasn't speaking to you like he usually is, he wasn't even looking at you. "T could use the distraction." You said, as you got into the car.

"It doesn't have to be our case. He's not an fed anymore and he knew the victim."

"And he feels like he failed the guy! Helping us would actually help him."

"Wow." Alden chuckled dryly.

"What?"

"For years I've heard about this girl who would protect Fornell with her life, go after anyone who went after him. I honestly thought she didn't exist, but boy was I wrong."

"Do you have a problem with my relationship with Tobias?" You asked, slightly offended.

"As long as it doesn't interfere with your work and our cases, I honestly don't care."

You switched from offended to hurt. How stupid were you for thinking that Alden may reciprocate your crush. He clearly wasn't, he couldn't care less about you on a personal level. You stayed silent the rest of the ride, looking at the city through the window. Alden didn't talk either.

The silence treatment didn't stay on for long, as Thomas's other girlfriend threw a frame at Alden's after he told her about his actual wife. You jumped from the couch to check on him. "Alden, hey! You okay? Can you hear me?" He was holding his forehead but you still saw some blood dripping. "Let me see." You gently pulled his hand away and check at the wound. "Yeah you're gonna need some stitches."

The woman was still crying and shouting at you two to get out of her house. For a moment, you consider arresting her for assaulting a federal agent, but Alden simply said 'let's go' and you were walking back to the car.

You started to fish inside his coat pocket. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the car keys." You checked the other one.

"Pants." He said, leaning against the car. "Tell me you have a tissue or something?"

After looking at him for a second, you shrugged and searches for the keys in his pants pockets. You knew it was highly inappropriate but your hands behind so close to him and his crotch, did something to you. You took a deep breath before opening the car. Once inside, you took your knife and cut a piece of your shirt. "Again, what are you doing?"

"You need some tissue."

"Well yeah but not from your own clothes."

"I don't have anything else, so it's either that or your fancy suit."

He sighed but didn't argue. You pulled his hand away again, and started to clean the blood that dripped out of the wound. You were so gentle, and so close to Alden, it made him uncontrollably blush. When you brushed his hair away, he closed your eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling. "I'm not hurting you?" You asked softly, making his heart go faster.

"N-no. It's okay."

"It's going to be fun for you to explain this scar." You giggled.

"Better than explaining the one I have on my thigh."

When he saw the curiosity on your face and your grin, he regretted every word. "Don't--"

"What happened to your thigh, Alden?" You asked, still grining. "Hold this until you get back to the office."

"I won't tell you."

You settled back into your seat and started to drive. "I can be pretty annoying and stubborn."

"Yeah, I gathered that."

You gave a death stare but a few seconds later, you were both laughing.

You didn't bother going to the bullpen but instead took Alden immediately to Jimmy in Autopsy, where Tobias and Grace were.

"I got an patient for you, Jim!" You announced almost cheerfully.

"Oh wow, what happened to you, Parker?"

Alden sat on the chair Jimmy gave him. "He got attacked by a frame." You told them, after hugging Grace.

"Aaah, those nasty things." Tobias chuckled. You moved close to him, as he was leaning against an autopsy table. You grabbed his arm with yours and leaned your head on his shoulder, and started to tell the full story while Jimmy was patching up Alden. He barely looked at you or Tobias.

Alden really tried to avoid you after that, but it was almost impossible. He hated how you told the story of his wound, not because you were saying it with a smile, but because all he could think about was the after, in the car. He could still smell you from up close, he could still feel your minty breath on his face. He's never been into a friend's girlfriend before and he had no idea what to do. All he knew was how he hated whenever you hug, kissed or touched Tobias, how jealous he felt when he heard you and Tobias making plan for the evening. Clearly you were spending the night at T's place, and he wished it was him. He almost found an excuse to make you stay but realized how petty that was. This case couldn't end fast enough.

The next day, Alden was relieved to see you coming in without Tobias. You stopped at his desk, to grab a pastry and leaned a little to have a closer look at his wound. "It's good you don't have a bruise or anything else. It is hurting?" You asked. He wished you weren't this sweet and thoughtful with him.

"It throbs at times but it's okay. I'll live."

"Good, would be a shame to lose you to a framed picture." You smiled and walked to your own desk.

A minute later, a text popped on his phone. 'What happened to your thigh?' he read. He looked up to you and you were looking all innocent, concentrating on your computer.

'None of your business. Stop thinking about my thigh and get to work.' he answered, and regretted it immediately. Was he flirting with you through texts? God, Tobias was going to give him a matching wound on the other side.

'Can't help it. Is it a big or small scar? Where is it exactly?'

Were you flirting back? Alden's head was exploding. What kind of woman were you to do something like this? And why couldn't stop himself from answering.

'Want me to show you?'

'Bet.'

It was official, Alden Parker was going to hell. But he was happy cause he knew he would take you with him.

It wasn't a Tobias Fornell free day. He showed up in the afternoon to check on the team and the case. Alden agreed for him to have an update, which you happily gave him. Tim and Nick were out of the office to interrogate your other suspect, and Jess was in the lab, checking things with Kasie. So, Tobias simply grabbed a chair and settled next to you. Alden felt extremely uncomfortable, especially when he noticed how your behavior towards his friend was the same. Like there hasn't been some speakable texts between you two earlier. He felt bad for Tobias. The man has been through so much over the years and now this.

At some point, Alden couldn't take it anymore so he excused himself and walked away. Almost immediately, Tobias kissed your cheek and said he'd be right back. "Fornell, don't do whatever I feel like you're gonna do!" You exclaimed.

"I love you." He mouthed and disappeared at the same corner Alden did. You sighed and your heart started to race.

When Alden saw Tobias coming in the bathroom, he expected to be punch soon enough. Should he prepared himself to duck or should he let Fornell hit him? After all, he did deserve that punch and maybe more. But Tobias was smiling.

"You okay, Fornell?"

"Are you?"

"I-huh? Yeah?"

"How long are you going to beat around the bush, Parker?"

"Um, what? What are you talking about?"

"I know that Gibbs had the rule 12 about dating a coworker. And Y/N learned the job through his rules, but come on. This one has been broken many times, even by Gibbs himself."

"Look Tobias, I'm sorry, okay? I know I shouldn't be interested your girlfriend, and it'll go away. I promise you, nothing--" Alden stopped when he heard a laugh coming from Tobias.

"Wait, you think she's my girl?"

"She's not?" Alden exclaimed, a bit to intensely.

"Okay, let's go get a coffee."

In the breakroom, they sat at a table, cups of coffee in front of them. "I'm gonna be honest, if my life has been different and if I was significantly younger, she would have a ring around her finger and I'd have kicked your ass." Tobias started.

"Fair enough."

"My relationship with her is--special, to say the least. A while ago, she named us 'platonic soulmates' and I guess it fits." Alden nodded. "And if you want to date her, you're gonna have to be okay with that."

"Obviously." Alden chuckled. "Clearly if she had to choose, it'd be you." He took a sip of his coffee. "But even though I'm slightly younger than you, I'm still much older than her."

"And does it seem like something she would mind?" Alden shook his head no after a few seconds. "Look man, you will not be able to help a better partner than her. We're talking about someone who moved in with me after my daughter passed away to support me. She even used her vacation time for that. She handled everything for me, even though she was hurt too cause she knew Emily for almost ten years. I literally had to move her out of my place, and honestly, I only did after she told she had a crush on you."

Alden was extremely moved by what he was hearing. He knew you were someone very special, someone who would give and do everything for the ones she loves, but this was another level. It made him fall for you even more.

"I don't even know what to say." He answered honestly.

"She deserves to be happy and loved. And as much as I love her, it's a different kind of love. Not the kind of love, I know you can give her."

Alden stayed silent. "However, if you just want to hook up cause she's insanely hot, find someone else."

"That's not the kind of man I am."

"I believe you. But never forget that I still have a gun, and you saw me use it a few times."

The case finally came to an end, and you were all very happy and relieved. Alden has been distant from you since his conversation with Tobias and T refused to tell you what they talked about. It was driving you crazy, and even making you feel uncomfortable whenever your team leader was around. What did he know? What did he think?

After coming back from the lab to the bullpen, you were surprised to see everyone was gone except for Alden, who was still typing at his computer. "Where's everyone?" You asked, avoiding looking at him.

"I sent them home."

"Oh, okay."

You started to work on your paperwork again before Alden spoke up again. "You can go too. Tobias is probably waiting for you."

This time, you did look at Alden who was still focus on his screen. "Wait, what do you think my relationship with Toby is exactly?"

Alden finally stopped typing and looked up to you. "What is your relationship with Tobias exactly?" He asked.

You sighed. This was taking you back a few years back when the guy you were dating was getting jealous of Tobias, accusing you of having an affair with him, being in love with him. And you hated that. "Like I said, if you have a problem with--" Alden stood up from his chair and walked over to your desk. He leaned against it, his body fairly close to you.

"I don't have any problem with it. It's obvious that if I want to have you, I need to accept him."

You looked at him, all lost and confused. "Wait--what? What do you--? What?"

Chuckling, Alden crotched down and made you chair spin so you were facing him. "Would you allow me to take you on a date? I've got Tobias's permission." He said with a huge smile.

You stayed silent for a moment, mouth opened. "Are you serious, right now?"

He stood up just enough so that he could grab your chin and gently pressed his lips against the corner of your mouth. You melted under his touch. "Very serious."

"Will you show me your thigh and tell me the story?" You whispered making him laugh.

[reidwitchsblog]

My Ticci Toby HC

Warning: 18+ content, mention of dead animals, mention of people’s death, mention of scars, wrong use of punctuation marks.

Author’s note: While I take my sweet time writing the second part of my fict, enjoy this little headcanons that have been on my mind.

Author’s note 2: I created this playlist that basically captures everything you need to know about the way I hc him.

Minors DNI.

PERSONALITY

His personality is, for a lack of better words, eerie. Most of the time he is silent and observant, and due to his past he doesn’t show his true personality often, but rather he morphs into a person that he thinks the others will like, it could be a mature young man, or a sarcastic little shit.

I believe that when he kills, he tortures his victims due to the fact that the concept of pain is foreign to him. He enjoys to try different torture methods

His biggest desire is to have a home. It is something he keeps a secret from others, not really because he is afraid of being made fun of, but rather because he feels that as long as no one knows, the fact that it’s never going to happen will hurt less. So he keeps that deep inside him, in a safe place, like a little photograph that he can take out and look when he is feeling down.

As much as he despises being angry (it reminds him of his dad), he can’t help it, he is his father’s son after all. When he gets mad, his first instinct is to bear his teeth and growl. And if the person he is fighting with doesn’t take the cue, he will attack, aiming for the throat as soon as he has the opportunity.

And talking about dogs, HE LOVES LIKE A HOUND DOG, once that he catch a scent that is appealing to him, there is nothing, and no one, that’s able to stop him. He is going to chase it until he has it in his maw, without very little regard as to whether he is hurting himself.

PHYSICAL

I see many people saying that my man is the shortest one out of all proxies, but, respectfully, I think they are wrong. He just gives me tall man vibes, HOWEVER, I think his poor posture makes him stand at 6’0, when he normally is 6’2, which comes really handy when he wants to scare his victims.

We all agree that he has the most beautiful light brown eyes, they are like pools of honey, warm and inviting, which contrast massively with the scowl he seems to permanently wear.

Although he is more on the skinny side, he has gained some muscles over the years due to all the physical work he does; chopping wood, running around, carrying his victims… sadly he covers them with either flannels or grandpa sweaters.

Still on the topic of grandpa sweaters, he looooves them, mainly because they remind him of his late sister, whose last Christmas present were two brown and green sweaters. His to go outfit is a short sleeved band shirt, a flannel, a pair of dark denim jeans, his old shearling jacket and and a pair of black Converse. When he is alone is his cabin he opts for a wife beater and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

His whole body is covered in scars, most of them being self inflicted, and fewer being the ones made by his bravest victims that naively thought that a knife would’ve stopped Toby from killing them. He doesn’t hate them per say, he even thinks some of them are cool, but in the coldest nights, when he is alone with his thoughts, he can’t help but to despise every single part of his body, including his scars.

RANDOM HC

He has a small collection of various trinkets hidden in a wooden box beneath his bed. Some of them are old photos with his sister, rocks that he thought they were pretty, keychains that he stole from different gas stations, etc. At first glance it would look just like a pile of crap, but I can assure you everything has a reason to be there.

He was born in Germany but moved to South Carolina when he was 5.

He enjoys listening to music, his favorite genre is old rock. The Rolling Stones, Queen, Van Morrison, Fleetwood Mac, Bon Jovi, Blondu… his favorite song is “Brown eyed Girl” and you can’t change my mind.

He is the softest person when it comes to animals, he feels so bad when he finds any dead animal near the road, and he always gives them a proper burial, he even says some words along the lines of “the world was cruel to you when all you wanted was some warmth”. He so cried with the poem about spiders.

⋆｡°✩ — ©️ reidwitchsblog, 2023 - don’t repost, translate, copy, or claim.

[mandowifey]

Headcanon request for either Albert Shaw or Arthur Harrow as a dad. But honestly, I would accept such a Headcanon for any villianeous character you write about. So surprise me.

This has been sitting in my head for awhile, so I'm excited to get to work on it.

I'm gonna do both these handsome fellas!

° ° °

Fatherhood

Albert Shaw & Arthur Harrow x Reader HCs

Warnings: Hints of Dubcon, definitely Noncon, implications of above mentions, crazy boys around kids, reader is not referred to by specific gender terms but is able to get pregnant.

♡ ♡ ♡

Arthur Harrow, first and foremost, wanted a child.

A child to him is a means of keeping you beside him. The bond would tie you two together forever. He likes the sense of control it brings him, especially over you. When you first met him, you were on the pill and mentioned never wanting kids of your own. But Arthur, as he does, convinces you otherwise. Perhaps even it was an 'accident'. He is certainly the kind of man who would swap your birth control with sugar pills. But he'd smile anyways and assure you it was fate.

While pregnant, you would be doted over. Every need met, whether it be from him or his followers. You would be given luxury and love and treasured like a little goddess. This is Arthur's child, after all, and that baby would be considered a herald. He would enjoy sitting with you, head on your stomach as you two talked. He would additionally make sure you ate well and took all the things you need for a healthy child. Arthur enjoys touching your belly while he reads or falls asleep. You have never looked more stunning.

When the child arrives, Arthur is in love immediately. While most wish for a boy, he always wanted a girl. Regardless, he was happy with whichever. He would sit beside you and help you cradle the crying newborn, imagining all the great things your baby would grow to accomplish. You, as the carrier, get to name the baby. Arthur would suggest names of course but leave the choice to you.

Fatherhood suits him. The man is extremely patient and controlled. He is great with teaching your child and helping them along. You've never heard him laugh so much before. There is considerable joy in his life now, and it shows. That baby would be raised with love and expectations. However, he is stern and unrelenting. The child never gets away with anything, and punishment is taken very seriously. It will learn that for actions, there are consequences.

I think Arthur would be a natural with parenting and fatherhood. He'd enjoy the molding of such a young life. He would eventually ask you for another, and maybe one more, once the first is a little older.

○ ○ ○

Albert Shaw has never wanted children. As a child, he was violently abused and mistreated. He can not mentally grasp the responsibility of a child (even if he can raise and train a dog, it's different).

That being said, in this instance, you are a victim/obsession that he's grown fond of and wants to keep. Pregnancy at its core appeals to him. The idea of his seed stuck inside of you, the fact that you are forced to grow and bear something that is equal parts his own excites him. He enjoys the thought of you being stuck with a piece of him inside of you and for life. But that is just about where it ends for him.

When you start showing signs of pregnancy, he'd simply watch. Maybe, depending on if he really enjoys you, he'll give you water and use his softer tone to reassure you that all was well. He does find it arousing that your skin clears and breasts swell - he'd be very interested in those. When your tummy grows, he'd touch it and talk to you about it, generally wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"How does it feel? Being stuck with a piece of me inside of you."

When it came time for birth, you were most likely alone. Stuck in the basement and forced to go through the entire process alone. In this instance, if you survived, he would return home surprised to see and hear a baby.

There is a long pause, and he is gripping and loosening his hands. You can't really tell what he's thinking. You would be filthy, tired, barely awake if not for that need to protect your newborn. He would come across the room and shake his head, scolding you about the mess you made. You are afraid when he sits beside you and looks at the child. Part of you wants to believe he cares, but you see no semblance of love in those eyes of his.

He'd sit in silence for a while, wincing if the baby cried. Eventually, when you got too tired to keep awake, he'd take the child out of your arms and leave the basement.

And you would never see the baby again.

[hausofmamadas]

Until The Day You Don't Come Back

⁂

Pairing: Andrea Nuñez & David Barrón (+ some implied Dinarrón)

Prompt: "All we have are our choices" and Crossroads - for @narcosfandomdiscord Narcovember - #14 Book of Decisions Decisions Decisions

Word count: ≈ 4.2K

Note: shoutout to the homie @rerorero-my-cherry whose discord tonteria, talking about skipping off to Mexico to escape fascism somehow sparked the idea for this fic and I can't even explain how or why😂

TWs: Canon-consistent violence, descriptions of violent acts, smoking

There was no possible universe in which he was brought here by conscience. So naturally, she was dying to know the real reason they were meeting now under this bridge... Andrea gets a mysterious call from a potential new informant one day with information on notoriously corrupt politician and money launderer, Carlos Hank Gonzalez. She agrees to a late-night meeting on the US side of the border, so she can get all the tea, and boy is that tea scalding. (This ended up entirely too long but here you go world.)

⁂

Andrea checks her watch. Almost midnight. The road is quiet, cars passing by every fifteen minutes. The thinnest nail clipping of the moon is out and her informant is over a half an hour late. The lone street light flickering on the overpass above feels like a doomsday clock urging her to cut her losses and go home.

Really, loitering at this fork in the road under a highway bridge isn’t the most sensible idea, not when people were being gunned down in the streets in broad daylight and the cartels were using the bodies of their victims to send telegrams to each other. At least she had enough sense to insist the meeting take place on the US side of the border where her death would at least be investigated should things end badly. Just a few miles from Tecate, she’d found an unmonitored stretch of border the gringos hadn’t fenced off yet a few months ago and had been using it to touch base with informants.

It’s for this reason Salgado is always telling her she’s a clever girl with no sense. And also that if she’s senseless enough not to listen to him, as La Voz’s editor and her boss, he makes no bones about using it to his advantage. And he had - a series of groundbreaking stories about the hipódromo, Carlos Hank Gonzalez, and the AFO were enough to prove her senselessness enough of an asset, no matter how much of a danger it posed. Until the day you don’t come back, he’d note ominously.

But if not her, then who? The job was easier to do if you knew you were already dead. She did. She also didn’t think about it too much. Plus, this lead was too big to pass up. The call with the tip-off had come directly to her desk, an anonymous insider allegedly high enough in the AFO to know all about Gonzalez’s dealings not just with the Arellano family but with Amado Carrillo Fuentes in Juarez; news she wasn’t yet privy to but that made enough sense to catch her attention. And that’s how she ends up on these back-country, dirt roads in the middle of the night.

Of course, she knows it could be a trap too - she’s senseless, not stupid. She knows full well this little rendezvous could be no more than someone making good on a bounty for the head of any journalist from La Voz. She couldn’t even bring herself to revel in the I told you so, when the street edict came down from the AFO after Salgado enacted the policy of removing writers’ names from the bylines, even if she did tell him it was a short-term solution to a long term problem. It was even shorter than they bargained for because within a week of implementing the policy, the AFO had branded anyone who came in and out of that office fair game. Normally she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to retroactively gloat, but this time it didn’t seem fair. Salgado did his best to protect them and it earned the whole staff a scarlet letter. But who’s fault was that really? So she left well enough alone, like she never had an opinion on the matter to begin with.

So yeah, the prospect of this being a trap had occurred to her. More than once. And the longer she sits here, leaning against the hood of her station wagon, checking her watch, the more the possibility keeps rearing its ugly head. Right on cue, the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel has her going for the handgun in her waistband and spinning around to greet the void of what she hoped would be empty space under the bridge.

“Hello? Who’s there?” She does her best to breathe, keep calm, as she anchors the gun in both hands, aiming for the shadows.“Dejate ver. Muestrate si no quieres tomarte una bala en el culo.”

A pair of raised hands are the first things to emerge followed by a modestly dressed man with a clean-cut crop of dark hair, dark eyes, and a sharply drawn mustache that gives him the look of a French nobleman caught in the wrong timeline. Her stomach drops several floors and liquifies into a puddle on the ground as it sinks in, just who he is. She’d give anything not to but there’s no eradicating the sense of recognition.

So this is it then. The end of the line.

She’d pictured it just like this. In fact the scene is so familiar, she feels the distinct impulse to laugh at just how much of a cliche she’s about to be. Because as much as she can acknowledge the possibility - meeting a grisly, undignified end, painted somewhere on the streets of a city she’s fought for and loved, just another macabre telegram - she’s also struck by the kind of shame that accompanies shattered hubris. That, somewhere along the way, she mistakenly bought into a brand of exceptionalism she always hoped to avoid, one might call it downright American. Rationally, she’s known the odds, even accepted them. And yet somehow it was still something that only happened to other people.

What a fool. She’d kick herself if she wasn’t about to die. Or maybe … How fast could this guy move? How quick could his hands be? Maybe she’d turn her gun on herself, get a shot off before he could get his out. Take things on her own terms. Not that she can even see a gun. But she doesn’t need to, to know it’s there, tucked in his waistband right at the base of his back.

After all, he is the AFO’s top sicario, David Barrón Corona. One of the most lethal men in Tijuana. Maybe all of Mexico. She’s only ever seen him at a distance, through a telephoto lens or in grainy photographs developed thereafter, but she could recite a list of his exploits from memory like a kid in some perverse spelling bee: the shootout at Christine’s, the airport massacre, the assassination of Ocampo, the shootout at the Belmont cafe. The man’s resume is a mile long and filled with nothing but death.

In her experience, meeting monsters like this tended to be unsettling for how boring and anticlimactic they always seemed to be. He appears no different. Just a man walking on two legs, with two eyes to see, and those eyes aren’t even crazed or rage-filled or brimming with hate. Whenever she came face to face with someone like him, it tended to incite within her a twinge of irritation that they couldn’t do everyone the courtesy of coming with some kind of warning label.

One of her hands drops and she walks toward him, gun drawn as she cocks the hammer and fires a warning shot into the ground next to him with an ease that surprises even her. He barely flinches. It’s obviously not his first rodeo. Which, yes, is to be expected but the stillness of him is still downright chilling.

His posture is relaxed, hands up in an effort to suspend hostilities. She’s decidedly unmoved in her hostility.

“Y’know,” he attempts to reassure her, “if I wanted to kill you, ya estarías en el piso, desangrándote en la tierra,” but it looms more like a threat.

It catches her off guard though, how much softer, gentler his voice is than she expected. It’s almost enough to disarm her entirely until she remembers all the coroner’s reports and crime scene photos she’d come across in her research. His handiwork. Well-executed executions, meted out with such quiet indifference he could’ve been telling them a bedtime story. This is who she’s dealing with.

“O sí? Pues soy yo ya quien tiene la pistola. So start talking, cabrón antes que te dé por el culo,” she flicks her wrist, pointing the gun barrel at the gravel disturbed by the first shot, “with another one of those.”

He chuckles, “Usually when people, civvies especially, say that,” making sure to keep his hands up, careful not to make any sudden movements, “no les creo. Pero a ti? A ti te creo.”

“Arre. So, if you’re really not here to kill me, fuiste tu con quien hablé por el telefono?”

He gives a stiff nod.

Andrea cocks her head to one side, examining him in the flickering street lamp light. He’d be handsome were it not for the vacuum in his eyes, no warmth, no life, yet here he was, breathing and blinking and talking all the same. There was no possible universe in which he was brought here by conscience. With what she knew, he was likely immune to that particular plague. So naturally, she was dying to know the real reason they were meeting now under this bridge, at this dirt crossroads, near the dirt town of Tecate.

“Do I, uh, have to keep these,” he looks right, then left, at each of his arms, “up the whole time?”

She considers the risk for a moment, ultimately deciding to let him but refuses to drop her gun. His hands come swinging down by his sides apparently unbothered by the fact that he remains caught in her crosshairs. Yeah, clearly not his first rodeo. Not even his second. Or third.

He meets her eyes but says nothing and the silence starts to feel like a third party in the conversation that just won’t shut up. Andrea taps her foot impatiently but he doesn’t seem to get the memo that this is the part where he’s supposed to do the talking.

“Alright.” She exhales crossly, rolling her eyes. “What did you want to talk about? On the phone you said something about Hank and Juarez?”

“That’s right.” Barrón takes a few steps closer, hands now clasped together at his waist, no more troubled by the gun than when he was further away. “He’s been working with Amado since he took over. Cleaning his money.”

“I don’t understand. Wasn’t he already doing that for the Arellanos?”

He nods.

“Wait, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he align himself with warring plazas?”

Looking down, Barrón shrugs, “That’s above my pay grade,” kicking a rock across the dirt, dust trailing behind it like a tiny, terrestrial shooting star. “I’m not that high on the food chain.”

She regards him skeptically, brows crinkling.

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, “I can only guess,” seeming to take the cue this time. “He’s probably too high-profile for either plaza to fuck with, so big homie can afford to do business with both. But I doubt Sr. Kingpin Accountant accounted for the heat it’d bring back on him with all the, uh– y’know, scrutiny.”

Grinding her teeth, Andrea snorts. Scrutiny was both a succinct and delightfully vanilla way of saying, ‘global attention thanks to all the bodies of the streets.’ But the implications of Hank laundering money for Juarez were big. He might be playing the plazas off each other, biding his time until a victor emerges, one he’ll be all too happy to chuck right under the bus the minute the political machine decides it needs to offer up its next sacrificial lamb to the gringos. Standing there, trying to put all these new pieces together, Andrea suddenly remembers the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of her flannel and wishes she’d thought to smoke one before they’d started talking. She can’t afford the distraction of lighting one up now, what with having to keep the gun in place.

“Alright, so he’s doing business with both plazas. How the hell do you know this? You said it yourself, you’re not that high up on the food chain.”

He seems to bristle at this, throwing her a sideways glance through half-lidded eyes, face overtaken by a dangerous, far-away look that spooks her even more than the gun at his back. “Why would you need to know that to write your little story.”

Interesting. Something personal, perhaps. She’d get it out of him one way or another. But later.

“Well,” she grips the gun even tighter, knuckles going white and she hopes that by keeping her voice level, he can’t sense how scared she is, “it’s not going in an article per se. But for reasons that I hope would be obvious? I can’t identify you as a source. You’ll have to remain anonymous.”

“You don’t gotta do that on my account.”

Practically gagging on disbelief, she manages to sputter out, “For you? What are you kidding?” before regaining her composure. “I mean– well frankly, you’re a criminal, a killer at that, putting a rival cartel in the headlines, so it’s more an issue of self-interest. Now, I know doing something like this does nothing but put you at risk but my readers won’t know that. So, telling me how exactly you found out about all this would lend you more credibility as a source. O sea significa que podemos confiar más en lo que me has dicho.”

This seems to wound him privately somehow like he’s taken it worse than the bullet she’d fired. But whatever it stirs in him is gone before she gets a chance to interrogate it further.

No less relentless, it is enough for her to ease up on her delivery. “So do you have proof? Something concrete that I can take back to my editor?”

His hand goes in his pocket and he begins digging around for something. Andrea’s whole body stiffens and she takes a step back, arm straightening to retrain the gun on him more decisively. If he notices, he doesn’t show it as he continues fishing around in his pocket until he finally brings out a few folded documents along with a bag of rolling papers. He takes a pre-rolled cigarette out of the bag, popping it between his lips while reaching out to pass her the documents. A few hesitant steps forward, she lowers the gun slowly snatching the papers from his hands quickly before scurrying back again. Her head bobs up and down between watching him and trying to read what’s on the page in front of her.

“What are these,” she flips through a few pages, “business licenses?”

“Among other things.”

She skims the first document and for the first time she feels like this whole thing might not be a trap. Fixing him with the coldest, most I-will-kill-you stare she can manage, “I’m taking a big risk, doing this. No me hagas arrepentirme o te arrepentiras, lo prometo,” she flicks the safety on and puts the gun in her waistband, in front so he knows she still has easy access.

Bowing his head, Barrón agrees, "Noted," cracking a small smile, something akin to respect or maybe admiration and it’s the first time his face displays any emotion. It puts her a little more at ease.

Both hands now free, Andrea combs through the documents, a few loose, the rest stapled together, some with carbon copy backings, and skims for the highlights - important phrases, dates, places, signatures - until she finds a signature at the bottom of a business license for an aeronautic manufacturing company.

“A shell company,” Barrón confirms her suspicions before they’re even fully formed. “Makes specialty parts for small planes. Like Cessnas.”

She flips to the next page, documents showing ownership stakes in the casino at the hipódromo along with two of the Arellanos’ discotheques. Flipping through the rest, it’s more of the same, SEC and CNBV registrations for shell corporations, licenses for legitimate businesses, and share certificates, none of them bearing Carlos Hank’s name but nonetheless tying him to both Tijuana and Juarez by a signature almost as important: Carolina Vera. His lawyer. She was all over these documents.

Speechless, Andrea’s head rises slowly to look at Barrón. When she said proof, she wasn’t expecting it to be this monumental. The cynic in her kicks up, wondering if it isn’t just a more elaborate trap designed to lull her in a state of submission before the jaws snap shut for good.

“It gets better," he says, examining his zip-o lighter before flicking the top back and forth a few times with his thumb.

Which reminds her, in desperate need of a cigarette, Andrea folds the papers up and sticks them in the back pocket of her jeans and then feverishly digs around the pocket of her shirt for her pack. Once retrieved, she flicks her lighter several times, sparks flying at the end of the cigarette in her mouth, until finally a little bloom of flame appears out of the corner of her eye to light it for her. He's a smooth motherfucker, she'll give him that, although strangely, there was nothing smug about it. He brings it back, cradling the flame with his other hand to light his own. After a first drag, Andrea dips her head back, a cyclone of smoke pouring from her lips while she exhales in relief.

“How,” snapping forward again, she takes another drag before asking, voice thick, each word encased in smoke, “does this get any better?”

“I have another source.”

“What? Who?”

“Cristina Palacios Hodoyan.”

“No me digas." The shock has her nearly wheezing the words and her eyes are wide, almost feral with curiosity. “You know where she is?”

He smirks. “Who do you think hid her?”

“What? So– but wait, so you didn’t—y’know. Her sons?”

Suddenly he can’t meet her eyes and she can’t wipe the image of the bridge from her mind - the row of lifeless bodies strung up, punishment para los soplones, whose biggest crime was usually no more than bearing witness to things she never agreed to see in the first place. That Alex and Alfredo were more involved in the extracurricular activities didn’t change the fact that they were just boys.

Perhaps trying to get a read on Andrea or maybe just hoping to fill the silence, Barrón offers, “Everyone assumed- and for good reason. But that time wasn’t me. I was in San Diego, trying t–”

“Save it.” With one look, she skewers him, eyes narrowed, mouth tight, not here for his bullshit. “Vete alaverga con esa ‘that time.’ How many other times was it you, huh?”

Meeting her eyes again like he recognizes his mistake, he responds matter-of-factly, “Plenty,” head held high, no attempt at contrition, false or otherwise.

Still, she’s expecting him to plead his case, so she waits for the explanation, the mental gymnastics, the cognitive dissonance, the rationalization for every single horrific act of violence wrapped up in that plenty. After standing there, watching each other in silence for who knows how long, she realizes there won’t be any of that. And up sprouts the tiniest kernel of respect that she already hates for being there. But she can’t help it. David Barrón could be called a lot of things but a hypocrite wasn’t one of them. She rolls her eyes because christ, who needs heroes when the bar is this high.

She mumbles to herself, “There’s a fire sale and everything must go,” but before he can voice the look of pure confusion on his face, she’s onto the next question, something tugging at the back of her mind since he first stepped out of the shadows of the overpass. “So, what’s in this for you? Why are you telling me all of this?”

Gaze shifting off to the light polluted horizon, he goes quiet. Eventually he just says, “That’s a big question.”

If this was a television interview, the broadcast would’ve been cut for all the dead air between them but she just waits, hoping he might give her just a little more, something to put this whole bizarre night into perspective.

“It’s just—” he shakes his head, “the way I come up—” putting his smoke to his lips and taking a pull so long, she wonders if maybe the question hasn’t short-circuited him a bit.

“Gettin’ into all this,” he waves his hand around at nothing in particular, a party streamer of smoke left behind its path, “wasn’t really a choice for me. Not like how it is here. Now in this new– whatever. Era. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. We were supposed to legitimize. Climb outta this ditch, not dig it deeper.

“This? What do you mean?”

“The game,” he huffs in a moment of frustration, the only emotion he’s let escape so far. “Used to be no civvies, no bystanders, no regular folk. If you was in the game, you get popped on the street, well okay, you knew what you signed up for. But all this other– truth is, man, I’m just tired. Tired of the game, the life, tired of doing all this shit just to be someone’s second choice.”

It was the most he’d spoken the entire time and she didn’t want to interrupt for fear he’d clam up again and go back to nods and one-word answers, but she’d have to start asking some follow-up questions if he didn’t start putting some names to these pronouns.

“I tried to save him, y’know, for her.” He keeps going, face fixed with a thousand yard stare so vacant and icy, he might’ve had the surface of the moon in his eyes. “But I couldn’t. Maybe I didn’t want to. She knows I tried but maybe she knows that too.”

“Hm.” Crossing her arms, one hip cocked out to the side, Andrea examines the end of her cigarette before holding it off to the side and tapping it with her finger. “So the rumors were true. You and Enedina.”

“I thought it’d be different.” Barrón turns back to her, flashing a nihilistic smirk that reveals how broken he is. “But the things she’s asked me to do,” he shakes his head, “I don’t know. The game ain’t in me no more. And this last one, well—”

“This last one?”

“Your editor. He was greenlit.”

It takes a moment to register. When it finally does, Andrea feels like someone’s pressed pause on reality only to start playing it again in slow motion.

“Y— you mean, my—? uh, Salgado? Ramon?

“Pues, sí.”

“You’re certain?”

“Mhm. My next mark.”

“Hijoueputa,” she mutters. “No es posible.”

Stamping his cigarette out in the dirt with the heel of his wingtip, he nods. “Best believe it.”

“Well— so what? Are you still gonna go after him?” Andrea’s getting more panicked by the second, her fingers finding the grip of her gun.

Chuckling, Barrón puts a hand up in gentle protest, “Nah, chill.”

For some inexplicable reason, she listens to him.“Fine. So, what’re you gonna do then?”

”Something I’ve never done in my whole life.”

“What’s that?”

“Miss.”

Andrea appears to take some comfort in this as her shoulders drop, a breath escaping that she didn’t even know she was holding. Remembering her cigarette, she takes a last drag while noting dryly, “You know, you can never go back.”

A blank look from him is the only response she gets.

“If you do that— y’know, miss. The minute I talk to Cristina, the minute I write this, they’ll probably figure out it’s you. You can never go back.”

Barrón just shakes his head, resigned. “No, ma’am.”

“No? What, no? If they find out you’re my source, they’ll kill you.”

“Of course. I know how they’ll do it too.” He says it with a twinge of pride that reminds Andrea exactly who she’s talking to. “It’ll be someone I know. I’ll see it coming. They’ll want me to see it coming. Cause they know I know.”

Despite this reminder of who he is, what he’s done, she can’t quash that kernel of respect that’s been planted. Even if he wanted to atone, he had enough respect not to insult her by trying to. Nor did he feel sorry for himself that he probably didn’t deserve to. It was a display of accountability she rarely saw from someone as morally bankrupt as he’d had to be. Until now anyway. And this makes her feel, in spite of herself, almost sorry for him. “You’re not scared?”

“Sure. Wouldn’t you be?”

“Well, of course,” she shrugs, twisting the filter of her cigarette until the cherry and remaining tobacco fall out before tossing it behind her. “But I w–“

“But you wouldn’t deserve it. And it’s true, I got it coming. Made my own bed as they say. But I can still be scared. Even if I know, at the end of the day, all we have are our choices.”

Andrea smirks, crossing her arms, looking down at the ground to push some dust around with the toe of her boot, unsure what to say next. When she looks back up, he’s already walking away, hands in his pockets, leisurely like he’s got nowhere to be, back to the shadowy spot under the bridge he came from. She wondered if his car was parked there or somewhere else. Or maybe he’s just some visiting ghost of Christmas past and she’ll wake up from this dream.

”Hey,” she calls out.

Just before he reaches the edge of the void, he spins around on his heels, hands still in his pockets, eyebrows raised, and waits.

“For what it’s worth– well, you do have it coming. But … I hope you find your way to some peace somehow.”

The unexpected happens then. He smiles. But this time it travels up his face all the way to his eyes, lighting them up. It might be as rare as a passing comet. So there are signs of life, after all.

═

taglist: @narcosfandomdiscord, @drabbles-mc, @ladygoatee, @rerorero-my-cherry, @narcolini, @ashlingnarcos, @complete-nonsequitur, @tofuwildcard, @bellinitini, @when-did-this-become-difficult

[6rookie-writer0110]

Don't lose control

Chloe Decker x Male Reader

Warning: Some light gore.

Request: Would you like to write a Male Reader who is a forensic blood spatter analyst that works for the the L.A.P.D. While there, he started a relationship with homicide detective Chloe Jane Decker and had a son together named (Y/S/N) (Y/L/N). In his spare time, he is a vigilante serial killer who targets other murderers who have evaded the justice system. Male Reader follows a code of ethics taught to him in childhood by his adoptive father, which he refers to as "The Code"

You are in the lab trying to copy the same blood spatter as in the pictures. You finally figured it out and you started to smile, then Chloe and Lucifer walked in.

“Seems, you are having fun,” Chloe said.

You take off the goggles and there is fake blood all over your suit.

“I figured it out,” You said.

“You know who did it?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes, someone who is under 5’8. It's a short person who killed your victim. Ella helped me out because she was the same height as the killer. When I did it, the blood spatter wasn't the same and the range was very different” You said.

“Now, we have to arrest the landlord,” Chloe said.

“I knew it, he did it. There was something about him” Lucifer said.

“But we needed evidence to arrest him, Lucifer. Thanks Y/n” Chloe said.

“Anytime,” You said.

They leave the lab and you start to clean the mess. Once you are alone in the lab, you use the computer. You typed in a car license now you see the address and more. You start to think, about how to capture the rapist who was let out of jail for good behavior.

Chloe comes back to the lab and you hide the screen with a random report.

“Hey, Y/n don't forget to bring dinner tonight,” Chloe said.

She gave you a peck on the lips and you smiled. You and Chloe have been dating for a long time then she got pregnant with your son.

“Don’t worry, I won't forget. Go home early and I will try to finish this report” You said.

“Okay, I will see you later,” Chloe said.

She kissed you then she left. You watch her leave then you look at the computer again. She doesn't know that you hunt down criminals and kill them. You know that she will never accept you if she finds out. You always come up with a lie saying why you come home late. Since you work in the police department, it's easy for you to get information on your next prey. You try to find more information about the criminal and it didn't take for you to find out everything.

Chloe is at home and she picks up her son and kisses him on the head. He is one year old and he starts to smile at her.

“Don’t worry your father will join us for dinner” Chloe smiled.

You open the door and she is happy to see you.

“Traffic got worse. But I did bring food” You smiled.

You give her the food then you grab your son. She starts to set the table and you are making your son laugh and he doesn't stop smiling.

“I have to leave later,” You said.

“Why?” Chloe asked.

“I have to meet up with my brother, he is having trouble with stuff. And he needs someone to talk to” You lied.

She never met your family besides your adoptive father.

“Y/n, when am I going to meet him?” Chloe asked.

“I will try to set that up. I told him about you but I will ask him again” You said.

“Okay, but try not to come home too late. Remember we are going to the zoo tomorrow” Chloe said.

You gave her a peck on the lips.

“I won't come home late, promise,” You said.

After dinner, you spend time with Chloe and your son. She went to bed early and you left the house.

——

In the trunk of your car, you take out black clothes and changed in car and you change the license plate. You drive to the location where your prey will be.

You drive to a bar and you walk inside. You look for her and she is sitting at the bar and you sit in the back. You watch her and she is just drinking beer and talking to random people. You have been following her for almost two weeks, she has two different cars and that threw you off while spying on her. You start to remember what your foster dad said…

“Only kill people after finding conclusive evidence that they are guilty of murder,” He said.

After a while at the bar, she left the bar and you go after her. She is by herself, now you wet the cloth with coliform and run up to her. You put it on her face and she tries to fight back but can't.

“Shhhh,” You said.

You put her in the car and drive to your secret location. Chloe doesn't know about Secret Loft because you used your father’s name to buy it. That's where you do your killing. You drag her body into the loft then you tie her up on the table and you wait for her to wake up.

“Where am I?!” She cried.

“Somewhere,” You said.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“Oh, don't worry about that. You won't remember it in the afterlife. You are here to pay for the crime you did to those boys” You said.

“I did my time!” She yelled.

“No, you didn't! They should have given you years behind bars! But instead, they gave you three months!! People who sell weed are doing years behind bars! Now that isn't fair” You said.

“Someone help me!!!” She screamed.

You smacked and you looked at her with a sinister look.

“You can scream all you want. But no one will come and help, this neighborhood is abandoned, and cops only come around here to sleep with hookers. Enjoy the ride” You said.

She starts to cry and begs you not to kill her. But don't stop, you grabbed a knife and started to cut her body. The cuts are not deep but she is starting to bleed out, you want her to suffer. She keeps begging you to stop but you don't listen to her. You keep leaving cuts on her body. Then you grabbed a bigger knife and you have a sinister smile.

“Please I'm begging you” She cried.

You stabbed her in the stomach and she cries in pain. She starts to bleed out fast and you watch the blood come out faster. You take out the knife now you grab an electric saw, you start to cut her body. She is screaming bloody murder but you don't stop. You cut her arms off then you cut off her right leg.

“Have fun in hell” You said.

You cut off her head and you cut her body into pieces. You are breathing hard now you start to clean up and put her body parts into black trash bags.

You lost track of time while throwing her body away and cleaning. You changed clothes and burned what you had on. You went home at 4 a.m. and Chloe is still sleeping. Before going to sleep, you take a hot shower.

✬ ✬ ✬ ✬

You kept your promise and you went to the zoo with your family. You take a picture with Chloe and your son. You try to teach him a new word.

“Can you say gorilla?” You asked him.

He just smiles “Monkey”

“Close enough, but it's gorilla,” You said.

“You thought he was going to say it on the first try?” Chloe asked.

“Could have happened. Plus he won't let go of the monkey plush” You said.

While walking around the gift shop, he grabbed a plush monkey. He didn't want to let go of it and he hugged it very tight. You bought it and you bought a gift for Chloe.

You and Chloe are having a good time. You keep trying to teach your son how to say each name of the animal.

———

You and Chloe are on the couch, watching a movie. But during the movie, you and Chole just started to kiss each other and didn't bother to finish the movie. You are lying on your back and she is on top of you, and your hands are under her shirt.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Why?” You asked.

“You have been going out every single night, and I don't like that,” Chloe said.

“I promise that will stop,” You said.

“Do you mean it, Y/n?” Chloe asked.

You kiss her on the lips

“Yes, I mean it,” You said.

“Good” Chloe smiled.

✬ ✬ ✬ ✬

Chloe and Lucifer arrived at the crime scene. Ella starts to explain what she thinks happened at the time of the kill. But Lucifer tries not to laugh because Ella is on her knees, and you are standing up. Her face is close to your crotch.

“So the killer was on their knees and stabbed him in the stomach and his friend,” Ella said.

“That explains the blood sappter. When the killer moved their hand back and forth, the blood managed to get on the couch. But once at my lab, I will try out the theory” You said.

“Maybe try not to have your face close to his crotch,” Chloe said.

“What?” Ella said.

“Never mind,” Chloe said.

“Don’t be jealous, detective he won't cheat” Lucifer said.

Chloe walks away and you take more pictures of the crime scene. You and Ella started to talk about theories while Lucifer and Chloe talked to the neighbors.

——-

At work, there was a meeting about criminals being killed. You didn't care about them but Olivia Monroe, your boss said something. She wants Chloe and Lucifer to work on the case and you start to panic. Now you have to stop for a while and you were planning on your next prey. So far, there are no witnesses or clues about who the killer is. The media already made up a name and you know Chloe won't rest until she cracks the case. You don't want to lose her so for now, you will stop killing. It will be hard because of your blood lust but you don't want to lose your family.

[i-didnt-do-1t]

Day 18 of @ailesswhumptober

Possession/mind control “everybody will despise you in the end.”

I actually have no idea if this makes any sense but I am also failing at reading it over again

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katherine made an active effort to reject everything her father had taught her. But the fear she'd grow to be like him was something innate. And she supposed anyone with parents they didn't get along with felt that way, she knew Oscar did. But she wasn't sure if he had ever had dreams like she was victim to recently.

Katherine was familiar with nightmares, had had them since she was young, but it was something she never found herself able to talk about; especially not since meeting Jack and the rest of the boys, since befriending the Delancey’s.

None of them ever spoke much of the refuge, or everything that came before she knew them, but she could assume, put pieces together from vaguely concerning jokes and the various things they all seemed to flinch at. She'd watched Jack more than once bolt up from his sleep, eyes unseeing and searching for someone that wasn't there. Flinching at her gentle hand in his shoulder, an attempt to bring him back to himself.

Next to all of this, her own bad dreams felt like nothing.

But this time she woke up crying.

It had been four days since Katherine had left home, or as her father saw it, been kicked out. And only a few hours since she had relented and returned to the house. She didn't have many options, a woman in the 1900's, no money and no respect and no voice aside from one she carved out space for herself to be heard.

The plan had originally been to stay at the lodgehouse had she been allowed, at least for a night, but Kloppman had shut that down before she could even ask. And she wasn't going to stay at the Delancey's for any longer than the three days she had already relegated Oscar to the floor.

She was still surprised by the fact they had let her stay at all. They ignored when she gasped awake in her sleep, and it was something she appreciated more than they'd realised.

But tonight she pushed herself up in her bed, amongst the plush pillows and sheets, cheeks wet and her heart pounding in her chest. In her own room, at home, having returned to her father’s house with her tail between her legs and the bag she had haphazardly packed only a few days prior. Her father hadn’t said anything to her, only wordlessly opened the door. She had hurried up the stairs and hadn’t left her room since.

It led to this; her eyes burning as she sat by herself in the dark, and then felt awful about it, how she could be so upset while in the luxury of her own room.

But it didn't feel like her body was her own. It hadn't been in her dream. Instead it was some gross extension of someone else that she didn't have control over, saying words to people that she cared about that she didn't mean. Bitter spat insults, things she'd never even think let alone say outloud and mean.

She pressed the heels of her palms into the sockets of her eyes, shoulders cold in the air of her room with the quilts no longer covering her.

It was insults she had heard before though, things from her father. Dialogue from rants in her his office, about Jack and the newsies, calling them useless and vile and dirty, disgusting, liars and thieves-

Even with her hands pressed to her eyes, she could still see Jack’s expression as she repeated the words to him. Spat them with a vitriol she wasn't sure she'd ever felt in real life.

She- or not her- whatever had been inside her in this dream (god it had felt so real) - She could still feel how she tried to get her mouth to stop moving as she called Jack stupid for trying to get out of New York, too naive and unrealistic to even make it to the train yard, about how whether he ever ended getting out or not everyone would end up despising him.

She sobbed into her hand.

Her tongue hadn't been her own, but something about being awake and knowing she was even able to think things like that-

Jack had morphed then, into her recent host, and Oscar Delancey had stood in front her instead.

She had called him a bastard without a second thought, mouth forming the words like they were practised and familiar.

Katherine would admit she didn’t know much about the brothers. But she had heard rumours of the elder Delancey breaking someone’s hand for calling him that once, knew that his parents hadn’t been married when they had him and knew that his childhood wasn’t. good. To say the least. Knew that he hadn’t been wanted.

It was one of the things that had come up while she’d stayed with them, another ironically enough had been possession, and thinking about it now maybe that’s why she seemed to be dreaming about it. They didn’t say much about possession, not in any real terms, but in reference to their mother. Episodes, Oscar had called them, where their mother thought he was possessed, or that she'd have to exorcise Morris.

Katherine couldn’t help but imagine that the dream felt like what possession would be like; being trapped in your own body, the inability to move, like being mind controlled but so aware of every action.

She had never met the boys mother, in fact she was fairly sure the woman was dead, but she understood her fear, maybe. The idea of possession was a scary thing.

Katherine just had to hope that she wouldn't grow into her father, a mind control that was genuine and real and dangerous. A rhetoric he repeated over and over that had already worked its way into her head and her subconscious apparently.

She pulled her hands from her eyes and wrapped her arms around her knees instead.

She watched the crushed expression on Jack's face play on repeat. The hardened jaw and anger growing in Oscar's eyes.

She flexed her hand, reminded herself her body was her own, that were words in real life belonged to her alone. And didn't sleep the rest of the night.