#Maybe Branson?
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spellbcok · 1 year ago
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@vcndetta asked: △ — [lexi branson] and [nora grey] try to chop down a christmas tree in a forest.
"are you sure we can just chop any tree we want?" nora asked, skeptical on if that was even ethical. "isn't there, like, a designated area of trees we're supposed to choose from?"
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abc-felixx · 11 months ago
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man…..
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lesbienneanarchiste · 2 years ago
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For the record, Practical Anarchism: A Guide For Daily Life by Scott Branson is really good so far like I just started it but the brain cogs are turning.
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stormc97 · 1 year ago
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Someone pointed out it wasn’t a bill about him… But what about when it is? I mean this is Bible Belt Louisiana we’re talking about. Louisiana is one of the same states that contains the most Sundown Towns in America. They have already proven people they don’t like go missing. Some Sundown towns are against queer folks as much as they are racist. Tis why I hate Sundown Towns. So he has plenty reason to hightail it while being gay. Those types be celebrating their wins with crime that they won’t be convicted of after all. I just know that between Texas, Georgia, and Louisiana there’s a fair bit of Sundown towns.
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Gee, I thought these people were the ones who were like “If you don’t like it, you can just move to a blue state.”
And now they’re mad the guy is doing just that?
You can’t oppress and discriminate against someone then be mad when they take their highly useful skill elsewhere.
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asheanon · 1 year ago
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You know, thinking about it... 🤔 (I keep seeing New Year character posts on the dash and figured I'd throw a little one in too.~)
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For my gang, I like to imagine them all celebrating the New Year as most any other gang would! 🎆🥂
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But then, you have that deep, profound sadness lurking "in the corner" for Sal and she constantly tries to "not make eye contact" with it.
She's just one of those characters, man... As much as she keeps the brooding to herself, she's still long lived - classic case of long-lived character fraternizing with short-lived characters, watching them grow older another year, trying not to feel that divide between them...
Outwardly, it be like:
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Inwardly, it be like:
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Only once in a while, though! It's mostly good fun - like, 95% good fun! 🕺 (It's like trying not to let the existential crisis set in on the daily - always there, always looming - but the distractions and positive experiences + vibes overshadow it!)
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abox-of-rocks · 16 days ago
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FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS
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—stanford! football! dean winchester
I don’t know shit about football soooo…google was my only source
word count: 833
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CARTHAGE, MO — DECEMBER 06, 1999
The lights were bright, the crowds were loud, the stadium filled to the brim with shivering town folk and students— excited to watch their team win again.
The Carthage Tigers had won two games in a row, and tonight they were shooting for a third. The odds seemed tricky, going against Branson, a local town about an hour and a half out, their team— the Pirates, were known for their high winning rates.
Waiting by the sidelines, the cold air biting at your cheeks and nose, the smell of your boyfriend’s cologne filled your senses. Looking through the frosting lense of your camera, getting shots for your upcoming photography project.
Dean catches the sight of you all bundled up, focusing on the boys warming up on the field, a smile growing on his lips as he jogged across the field. Stopping right beside you, his breaths coming out in white puffs. Leaning down a bit to be at your height, his elbow resting on your shoulder, a cheeky smile on his lips. “How’s the filming going, stalker?” Dean asked teasingly, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing your cheek.
“it’s going well, dumb jock.” you replied jokingly, your hands tightening around your camera as you did your best to catch a few more shots. “Aren’t you supposed to be warming up?” you ask, looking toward him.
“maybe, but what coach doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” he mumbled, nuzzling his cold nose into your neck, making you squirm— a teasing grin forming on his lips as he spoke again, his voice a low murmur, a playful tilt to it “plus, I had to see my favorite girl, didn’t I?”
A snort left you, playfully nudging your elbow into his side, putting the strap of your camera around your neck. “idiot.” that gained you a deep laugh, lifting his head from your neck, retorting playfully. “creep.”
You smiled as you turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around him, taking in the sight of your boyfriend wearing his jersey. He’s always been so goddamn pretty, it was almost unfair.
“You excited for the game?” you asked sweetly, running a hand through his hair.
Dean practically melts at your touch, his eyes fluttering shut, leaning into your palm— his voice coming out in a soft murmur. “gonna kick ass, I know it..”
The coach’s whistle broke through your soft moment, making him give you a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek, and run off to where the team was huddling up.
The first quarter began, gaining the Tigers a Touchdown. The second and third quarters gained the Pirates a field goal, and a safety. At the last minute of the fourth quarter, all Dean had to do was make the touchdown.
50 seconds..Running down the field, the ball was passed to him, he just barely missed being tackled.
20 seconds.. Dean was so close to the end zone, his lungs burning, heart racing. 10..9..8- The loud sound of the speakers yelling ‘TOUCHDOWN!’ as he slid into the end zone, the wet grass and dirt covered him even more than it already was before.
Next thing Dean knew, he was hoisted up by his teammates, all of them yelling and shouting out of excitement and pride. The biggest, toothy grin formed upon his lips, as his heart raced from the adrenaline rush.
Dean quickly pushed his way out of the team’s excited embrace, searching the sidelines and bleachers for you, when his gaze locked onto you.
You had a proud smile on your face, camera in hand as you most likely got many shots. Running across the large field, his bones and lungs begging for him to stop— to take a break, but when it came to you, it didn’t matter. He’d climb Everest in just boxers, just to get to you.
Unclasping his helmet with a little bit of a struggle, he threw it down by the benches, jogging up to the tall chain link fence. Climbing the fence with sweaty hands, his chest heaving, his breaths coming out in little clouds— hopping over, and landing in front of you.
“You won..” You said with pure admiration.
“all for you, stalker.” dean replied, love in his gaze, cheekiness in his tone.
“dumb jock..” You jokingly scoffed, with a small shake of your head, as you pulled him into a kiss.
Your lips meshing together like puzzle pieces, they needed to claim eachothers lips as their own, pure love within this embrace. His warm hands grasped your waist tightly, holding onto you like a lifeline— your hands cupping his cheeks in the same way.
You started to feel small cold drops of water landing on your skin, pulling back, your hands still cupping Deans cheeks as you looked up into the dark sky. Rain. It was raining. Looking back to him, both of you were breathless, looking around at the sudden rain. Soft laughs left you both.
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Notes— first of all, biggest shout out to my goober, @snburntandsad for helping me edit and nitpick. I love Stanford dean sm. The very end may or may not be inspired by A Cinderella Story, with Hillary Duff and Chad Michael Murray, when they kiss in the rain at the end of the movie.
₊˚ෆ🎸⋆⭒˚ taglist: @snburntandsad @floralscented @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @ungodlydilf @honeyryewhiskey @moonandst4rs
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hoe4hotchner · 4 months ago
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Chapter 7 - Breaking point
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Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader
Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.
Word count: 10.2k
Warnings: Blood, murder, ice pick stabbing, grief, trauma, and vulnerability. Disturbing imagery? (to some maybe), intense emotions, reader has feelings of guilt and fear. Heavy themes. Reader experiences shock and a sense of personal violation, I murder a minor in the ladder half of the chapter (maybe this is the last murder in the fic…. I don't know yet)……. Also maybeeeee there's an almost kiss 😈.
A/N: This took me way too long to edit…… like 4 days. And the only reason is that I'm a dumbass who constantly kept backtracking and adding more things and new scenes to the chapter….. I literally added 2.5k more words to this than it started out with.
Also I've had a busy week so that's that ;)
Masterlist
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The sharp screech of tires behind you brought you back from the depths of your shock, but even as the sound echoed through the street, your mind struggled to process what lay in front of you fully. The grotesque sight of Branson’s lifeless body slumped against your front door, the dark pool of blood seeping from his chest, the ice pick still lodged in his heart — it all felt like a sick and twisted dream, something too horrific to be real — too close to home, literally.
The words smeared across your door, “You’re next,” burned into your mind, each letter etched in blood, like a threat — no, it was a threat, a threat you were far too stunned to recognize.
You felt frozen in place, paralyzed by the disbelief of the situation as well as the terror swirling around in your chest. You were unable to tear your gaze from the gruesome sight. Your breath came in shallow gasps — small clouds of condensation forming in the air — the reality of what you saw was slow to sink in. The wind whipped around you, carrying the soft rustling of leaves in the trees, but even that felt distant like it couldn’t quite reach your ears through the numbness creeping through your body.
The slam of the car door echoed sharply — the sound was violent compared to the gentle rustles of the night — a sound that should’ve jolted you, but you barely registered it. He moved with a quick, determined stride, his dark coat billowing slightly in the air as he cut across the street and through the shadows to reach you.
And then, through the thickening fog of your fear, he appeared in front of you. Solid, familiar — the cologne, you recognized it — He was undeniably real, not just something you'd imagined.
Hotch
His face, usually composed, now portrayed subtle cracks of concern as his gaze swept over the scene. Swiftly he swept it over Branson’s lifeless body, taking in the blood and the message scrawled on your door — it was not the first time he had seen a message like that, but the difference was that last time he knew that she could defend herself if necessary. You, not so much.
But then his eyes found you — you were still frozen in shock — they softened as he took in the state you were in, a mix of worry and concern spreading as he took you in. Without a word, he closed the distance between you — his presence felt grounding in the chaos — and pulled you into a firm, shielding embrace. He didn't know what had come over him — He rarely got this close with victims, no matter what they went through. But you were different.
His arms encircled you completely, holding you tightly, as though his strength alone could shield you from the horror just feet away. Although your eyes were blank — staring into the void — your arms instinctively wrapped around his back as you turned your head to let your cheek rest on his chest.
The warmth of his chest against yours, the steady rise and fall of his breathing — it all anchored you, pulling you from the haze that had swallowed your mind. For a brief moment, everything else faded: the blood, the message, the body against your door. All that existed was the safety of his hold, the quiet assurance of his touch. Him.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice rumbled in his chest making it slightly vibrate against your cheek. Hotch kept murmuring reassuring words to you, trying to reach through the panic that gripped you down to your core. But your breath was still shallow, your words tangled in the back of your throat. Your wide, glazed eyes couldn’t stop flicking back to the scene, the blood still fresh, the ice pick still gleaming in the faint light of the moon. Hotch’s arms tightened just a little as he quietly turned both your bodies around, making sure he was the one to face Branson's body, not you.
"I'm sorry... I—" you stammered, finally managing to speak, your voice broke under the weight of everything, everything you couldn't figure out how to express. The words felt hollow, lost in the moment once they'd been spoken. As the world spun around you, your knees threatened to give way, the ground beneath you felt unstable — yet the concrete was newly paid, leaving little room for uneven terrain. But before you could crumble, Hotch hooked one of his hands around your underarm and tightened his grip around you before pulling you closer, his presence was the only thing keeping you upright in that moment.
As he felt your breaths slowly getting calmer, he moved his other hand gently to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair with a softness that contrasted the harsh reality.
"Don’t apologize," he whispered, his voice was filled with reassurance. His breath ghosted over your temple as he spoke. "Just focus on me. I’m here."
Hotch managed to fish his phone from his coat pocket with the freest of his hands, keeping his arm wrapped securely around you to the best of his ability as he quickly dialed for backup. Even in this moment, his movements were fluid and purposeful, a testament to his training as an agent as well as his instincts as a human. As he spoke, his voice shifted back to its authoritative tone, the one you had heard several times before — sharp, commanding, and laced with urgency as he barked orders into the phone. "I need units at (Y/N)'s address immediately — I don't care, send them all — We've got a homicide, and she’s been threatened. Secure the perimeter, and get forensics down here. Now!"
His eyes were laser-focused, darting back and forth as he processed the situation, and tried to profile the crime scene to the best of his abilities, while still needing to make sure you were okay. The tension in his jaw was evident as he took in the horrific scene, the pieces of the puzzle finally snapping together. His gaze locked onto the message scrawled on your door, the horror of it deepening his frown. He had been too late the last time, but now was his chance to redeem his past actions. "And make it fast. No delays," he added, his voice brokering no argument.
You stood there, pressed against him as your body trembled uncontrollably. The raw reality of what had unfolded settled in your stomach like a heavy, sinking weight. Branson’s lifeless body — each horrifying detail — flashed over and over in your mind, etched too deeply to ignore. The nausea that had been simmering suddenly surged, more forceful than before, and for a moment, you thought you could hold it back. But the bile rose too fast, too fierce.
With a shaky gasp, you pulled away from Hotch as quickly as you could, stumbling a few steps toward the nearest bush. Your body betrayed you as you bent forward, retching, the nausea spilling out in waves. Your fingers dug into the rough bark of the tree beside you, gripping it as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. The sound of your own ragged breaths filled your ears, and all you could feel was the sickening churn in your gut.
Hotch was by your side in an instant, one hand resting gently on your back, while the other gently moved your hair back and into a makeshift ponytail as you emptied what little remained in your stomach. He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, offering silent comfort. When you finally straightened, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you looked pale, beads of sweat evident on your forehead.
"Come on," Hotch said gently, grabbing your hand as he once again wrapped his other arm around your shoulder. His voice was soft but steady. "Let’s get you somewhere safe." His hand remained firm around yours, guiding you with careful, deliberate, and slow steps toward his car. You could feel his thumb brushing gentle circles over your knuckles, each touch grounding you in a way words couldn't. It was like he knew that the smallest connection was just enough to stop you from collapsing completely.
When you reached the car, he opened the passenger door with ease, then gently helped you inside. You barely registered the seat beneath you, still numb from the shock of it all, but his hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary. It wasn’t just a gesture of comfort — it was something far deeper, a reminder that he wasn’t just some big-shot FBI unit chief tonight. He was someone who genuinely cared.
You leaned back against the seat, feeling the exhaustion hit you all at once, closing your eyes in an attempt to block everything out.
The distant wail of sirens cut through the night, growing louder with each passing second until it was no longer just a sound but a piercing force that seemed to disturb the air around you. In an instant, the street outside was flooded with a sea of flashing red and blue lights, illuminating the darkened neighborhood. Officers descended onto the scene with purpose, their movements quick and coordinated — they knew just what to do. Forensics teams began to set up their equipment, yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze as it was stretched across the area by an officer, and the soft murmur of voices carried through the night. The once-quiet street had transformed into a chaotic hive of activity, the lights casting a surreal, almost otherworldly glow over everything.
Outside the car, the commotion grew as K9 units arrived on the scene, their dogs weaving through the taped-off perimeter. Their barks echoed in the night. The low hum of radios crackled to life as handlers gave commands, and the dogs sniffed along the ground, searching for any trace of the unsub’s path. Their noses skimmed over the blood-streaked pavement and dewy grass, while officers kept a close watch, ensuring nothing was overlooked.
Yet, inside Hotch’s car, the world felt muted — detached from the frenetic scene outside. The flashing lights, the movement of officers, the blaring sirens, the barking dogs — it was all muffled as if a thick layer of glass separated you from the outside world. The bubble of silence around you was eerie, you hated it, but couldn't shake muffled sounds that hit your ears. You sat there, still, eyes locked on the windshield, staring straight ahead but not really seeing anything. The night outside bled into a blur, the colors and shapes swirling together making the world around you distorted.
Your mind, however, was still anchored to a singular image — the last, awful sight of Branson. That scene played on a loop behind your eyes, each detail etched into your memory. Especially the ice pick — it swirled in your thoughts, refusing to let go, trapping you in a state of disbelief. It didn’t feel real. It couldn't be real.
Hotch crouched down in front of you, his tall frame folding with an effortless grace, bringing him just below your level in a way that felt intimate. He didn’t say anything — there were no words that could possibly ease the weight of what you’d witnessed — but his presence was enough. His hand found yours — it was warm compared to your icy one — fingers threading together as though silently promising you weren’t facing this alone.
His thumb traced soft, rhythmic circles over your skin, a small yet deeply intimate gesture, one he likely didn’t even realize he was doing. It was instinct. The weight of his gaze, soft yet concerned, held you, too. It was like he was trying to tell you, without saying a thing, that he was here, that he would shoulder the weight of this even if you couldn’t.
Time seemed to stretch, each minute dragging on as though the weight of what had happened too was too much for the clock to bear. Minutes felt like hours as you and Hotch remained there — silently waiting for your mind to catch up.
You could feel the rise and fall of your own breath as you began to regain consciousness, shaky and uneven, while Hotch remained still. You stole a glance at him, the soft glow of the lights catching the flicker of concern in his eyes, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else existed beyond this.
After what felt like an eternity, movement outside the car caught your attention. Through the distorted haze of flashing lights and shadows, you saw Morgan approaching, his stride was purposeful — obviously searching for Hotch — his face was etched with a seriousness that made your stomach tighten. His eyes flickered briefly between you and Hotch as he came to a stop just outside the passenger door.
“Hotch,” he said, trying not to alert you to any of the findings forensics had found.
Hotch hesitated for a moment, his hand tightening around yours before he finally let go. The warmth of his palm slipping from your grasp felt like a sudden, chilling loss, and you fought the instinct to reach out again. He stood, straightening his tall frame as he reluctantly stepped away, he shot you a glance, as if to silently reassure you that he wasn't far, that he’d still be there even from a few paces away.
Your gaze followed him as he joined Morgan a few steps from the car, his back now partially turned to you. Even with the distance between them, you could see the taut line of his shoulders, the way his body remained rigid with tension. The concern that had softened his face when he held you seemed to harden again as he listened to Morgan, his eyes darting back to the crime scene, then flicking briefly toward you, making sure you were still okay.
From where you sat, you couldn’t hear all the words they exchanged, but the tension of their conversation hung in the air, you could sense it even from afar. Hotch’s jaw clenched, his hands fisting at his sides as he absorbed whatever Morgan was telling him, his facade of leadership slipping back into place. But before he fully immersed himself in the chaos outside, he cast one last look over his shoulder, his eyes locking onto yours for just a second longer than necessary, as if to remind you — I haven’t forgotten about you.
Morgan was already in full investigation mode, his brow deeply furrowed as he stole another glance back at the crime scene, where the forensics team was still methodically combing through every inch of evidence under the harsh glare of floodlights. The flashing red and blue lights cast a glow over the area, their shifting colors reflecting off the glass of the SUV, throwing fleeting shadows across both men’s faces.
"Talk to me," Hotch’s voice was quiet, and controlled, trying to make sure you wouldn't hear any of their conversation. He crossed his arms, posture rigid, every ounce of his attention locked onto Morgan.
Morgan exhaled, his hand scraping over the back of his neck in a gesture that managed to reveal the gravity of the situation to you. "Forensics team’s been working the scene for the last fifteen minutes," he started. "The ice pick — it's clean. No prints, no identifiable traces — no nothing. Whoever did this, they knew what they were doing." He paused. "But Branson didn’t go down without a fight. He's got defensive wounds on his hands, a struggle for sure. This wasn’t quick."
Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with the implication. "He fought back?" The question hung in the air.
“Yeah,” Morgan nodded. “It just wasn’t enough. By the time anyone got here…” His voice trailed off, his gaze shifting toward the door where Branson’s body had been — now on its way to the morgue. The area was marked off with police tape now. “He was already gone.”
Hotch shifted his weight slightly as he processed the information. “Anything else?” he asked.
Morgan’s eyes darkened further, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he shared the next piece of the puzzle. “There is one more thing. The coroner estimated the time of death based on the blood, the body temperature, and rigor mortis. Hotch…” He paused, taking a breath as if preparing himself for the words about to spill from his mouth. “Branson was alive an hour ago. An hour.”
Hotch'ss gaze flicked to you for a brief second, still sitting in the car. He felt the air grow thick with tension around him. An hour meant that the unsub was still nearby, potentially even watching them right now. He could almost feel the clock ticking, each second dragging as they raced against him.
“An hour,” Hotch repeated, his voice low, barely above a whisper but brimming with restrained anger — mostly anger on the situation that this would put you in.
“Yeah,” Morgan confirmed. “Whoever did this — it wasn’t some random break-in, man. They knew what they were doing. They were fast, precise, and they left that message on the door just for her.”
Hotch inhaled deeply, his mind already racing through potential scenarios and calculating their next steps. The meticulousness of the crime screamed intent, a calculated plan rather than a spur-of-the-moment attack — but he still couldn't shake the feeling that this was supposed to be you, not Branson. The thought sent a chill down his spine. He glanced at you again, sitting in the car with a dazed expression. You had just missed Branson’s killer, and the idea that he might still be nearby sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.
“We need to get her out of here, now,” Hotch said, his voice clipped, each word felt sharp as they rolled off his tongue. He could feel the urgency pulsing through him, a powerful instinct urging him to act before it was too late. “Have the team sweep the area, and I want surveillance from every corner of this block sent to Garcia.” He knew they couldn’t afford to underestimate the killer’s capabilities.
Morgan nodded as he absorbed Hotch’s command. “Already in motion. We’re pulling footage from all nearby cameras.” He turned, his mind already racing through the logistical challenges, mentally preparing for the immediate task of gathering intel.
Hotch’s eyes stayed locked on you, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to the full scope of how close the danger had been — how close it still was. “She’s not safe here,” he murmured, more to himself than to Morgan. “Not until we figure out who’s behind this.”
“I'll take her back to the BAU,” he decided, his voice steadier now. “We can keep her safe there while we investigate. I want someone with her at all times — she deserves protection until we can ensure she’s out of harm’s way — I'll take the first shift.”
Hotch gave a curt nod, his protective instincts in full gear, as his mind shifted back to you and what needed to be done next. You weren't going to like it though, he knew that much.
Hotch slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar contours of the car offering him a semblance of control in a world that had quickly spun wildly out of it. The engine rumbled to life as he turned the key, shattering the silence that had settled around you. As he pulled away from the chaotic scene, the flashing lights of police cruisers faded into the distance behind you, but the weight of everything still pressed heavily on your chest. The bright colors, usually a beacon of help, now felt more like a reminder of the nightmare you had just escaped.
You sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out at the darkened streets, lost in your thoughts. The night felt surreal.
As the city blurred past, memories of Branson began to flood your mind — his expressions, the way he relentlessly pushed you to your limits, and those moments when his frustration spilled over into harsh words. You could almost hear him now, his voice echoing in your thoughts, the biting criticism ringing in your ears. “You call that a spin? You need to push harder, or you won’t make it to sectionals.” You knew he never meant it like that, only wanting to push you to perfection.
The sting of his words had cut deeper than you realized, a reminder of the high expectations he had set for you and the relentless pursuit of excellence he embodied. But now, in the wake of his tragic end, those very words morphed into haunting echoes of regret. Guilt washed over you like a cold wave, relentless and overwhelming. What had you missed? Were you the cause of this?
You replayed every interaction, every practice session, scrutinizing your memories for clues, for hints that could have warned you of the danger. Each laugh shared, every supportive word felt tainted now. The more you thought about it, the more the guilt clawed at you, a heavy weight settling in your stomach, twisting tighter with every breath.
Had you truly been so absorbed in your own aspirations that you failed to notice that someone had been creeping around in the shadows?
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, blurring your view of the city. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the swell of emotions threatening to break free. Branson deserved better, and you felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility as if you could have somehow altered the course of events if only you had been more aware, more present.
A sharp exhale from Hotch broke through your reverie, drawing you back to the present. “Are you okay?” he asked, glancing at you briefly before refocusing on the road ahead, his grip tightening on the steering wheel slightly.
“Yeah,” you whispered, the word feeling hollow as it left your lips. Even as you spoke, the image of Branson’s lifeless body remained etched in your mind.
“I just... I can’t believe he’s gone,” you murmured, your voice trembling with the rawness of your grief. “I don’t understand how this could happen. What did I miss? Who did this?” You wanted answers, a reason, something that could explain the senseless violence that had ripped your world apart.
Hotch’s brow furrowed with concern as he drove, his focus unwavering. “You couldn’t have known what was coming. This isn’t on you.” His voice was steady, almost like a lifeline amid the turmoil. But the reassurance felt distant as if it were meant for someone else, someone who wasn’t grappling with the painful reality of loss.
You turned your gaze out the window, watching the city lights flicker by. Deep down, you knew Hotch was right; you hadn’t seen the signs, but that didn’t erase the guilt gnawing at your insides.
“What if I could have helped him?” you asked softly, more to yourself than to him. “What if I could have changed something? What if I had been here just a moment earlier?” The ‘what ifs’ were suffocating, spiraling into a vortex of self-blame and sorrow.
Hotch’s hand shifted slightly on the wheel as he considered your words. “You’re not a mind reader,” he replied, his tone was firm but gentle — he was always gentle with you. “You were focused on your training, on your goals. There was no way you could have anticipated this.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “You have to remember that you did everything you could in your capacity. Sometimes, evil acts without warning, and it’s not something you can control  — Besides if you'd been here earlier, I'm not sure we would be having this conversation right now.” Hotch hated to speak those words, but he needed you to know that there was nothing you could've done.
The weight of his words sank in, but the guilt still gnawed at you relentlessly. Had you failed him? You still couldn't shake the feeling that you should have done more, seen more.
“Branson’s death is on the person who took his life, not you,” Hotch said, “He was in a dangerous position, and whatever conflict he had, those were between him and whoever hurt him. You didn’t cause this.” Hotch didn't want to admit the real truth behind Branson's death, he couldn't, not when you were this distraught.
You nodded, but inside, the turmoil raged on. “It just feels so unfair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was always so strong. I thought he could handle anything.”
“Right now, you need to focus on staying safe,” Hotch continued, “I'm taking you to the BAU for the night. You need to be out of the public eye until we figure out what’s going on. The last thing we want is for you to be targeted next.”
You felt a swell of gratitude toward Hotch for his unwavering commitment to your safety, but anxiety fluttered in your chest. “What if they find me? What if—”
“They won’t,” Hotch interjected, “I'll make sure of it. The team is already mobilizing to ensure your safety, and we have protocols in place for situations like this.” His confidence provided a flicker of hope.
His protective tone gave you a sense of comfort, but the lingering shadows of doubt remained. How close had you really come to danger? The realization that you had missed the killer — maybe only by mere seconds — sent shivers down your spine.
As Hotch turned down a quiet street, you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. “Thank you for being here,” you said quietly, the gratitude spilling from your heart. You knew that the gravity of your situation wasn’t lost on him; he understood the stakes far too well.
He nodded, his focus unwavering as he navigated through the darkened roads, the steady rhythm of the engine creating a false sense of normalcy. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he replied, “We’ll figure this out together. One way or the other.” You leaned back in your seat, trying to absorb his words.
Hotch took a sharp corner, the familiar outline of the BAU building looming ahead like a fortress amidst the darkness of the night. A swell of unease twisted in your stomach.
“Hotch, I don’t think I need to go back there,” you protested, your voice wavering slightly, betraying the fear that lingered just beneath the surface. “I can stay at my apartment. I’ll be fine. I promise.” The thought of returning to the very place that had become a backdrop for the whole case sent chills through you, and you desperately clung to the hope of finding safety within your own four walls.
Hotch’s gaze flicked to you as if he had already anticipated your objections. “No, you’re not fine. Not after what happened tonight.” His voice was firm. “I need you to understand this isn’t just about you feeling safe; it’s about your safety. The unsub is targeting people close to you, and we can’t take any chances, not when you've outright been threatened on your own doorstep.”
“But I can handle this! I’m not a child,” you insisted, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. You hated the feeling of being trapped, like a bird caged against its will, desperately flapping its wings to escape. The independence you had always prided yourself on felt stripped away, replaced by a suffocating sense of helplessness.
“Believe me, I know you’re not a child,” Hotch replied, his tone suggested that he understood your frustration but wouldn’t back down. “But the facts are clear. Branson was murdered in your doorway. You need protection until we get a handle on this.”
“I don’t want to be a burden,” you said, your voice quieter now, revealing the vulnerability you were struggling to hide. “I can’t keep you away from your work.”
“You’re not a burden,” Hotch said. “You’re my priority. We can’t afford to let our guard down, especially when you’re in the crosshairs of someone who’s already proven they can kill — multiple times.”
You glanced out the window, the streetlights flickering slightly. As much as you wanted to argue, deep down, you knew he was right.
“Just for tonight,” you complied, the words tasting bittersweet as they left your lips. “But I don’t want to be locked up like some kind of prisoner.” The image of being confined within four walls, stripped of your freedom, sent a shiver down your spine.
Hotch’s lips twitched into a smile. “I understand,” he replied, his eyes were full of empathy as he looked at you. “This isn’t about taking your freedom away; it’s about ensuring your safety. You’ll have space, and we’ll keep things as normal as possible.” His promise resonated with you, yet the fear of losing control over your life lingered like a ghost in the back of your mind.
As he parked in the parking garage of the BAU, Hotch turned off the engine, and a heavy silence enveloped you both for a moment. He seemed to sense your apprehension, his eyes softening as they met yours again. “Let’s get you inside,” he said gently, reaching over to squeeze your hand in a gesture that was meant to comfort you.
Stepping out of the car, the chill basement wrapped around you. The cold seemed to seep into your bones. Hotch fell into step next to you as you made your way through the concrete confines of the parking garage, the low hum of distant machinery and flickering fluorescent lights overhead punctuating the silence.
When you finally reached his office, Hotch unlocked and opened the door and gestured for you to step inside. The warm light from the lamp in the corner illuminated the space, softening the sharp edges of his furniture and making it feel a little less foreboding. You walked in, your body feeling heavy with exhaustion as if each step required immense effort. Hotch closed the door behind you.
“Are you hungry or thirsty? I can grab you something,” Hotch offered, concern etched on his features, his brow slightly furrowed as he studied you. He didn't know what he was looking for.
You shook your head slowly, fatigue weighing heavily on your eyelids and limbs. “No, I’m okay. Just… tired.” The admission felt like a weight lifted, but it was also a reminder of how drained you truly were from the emotional turmoil of the night.
“Why don’t you lie down on the couch?” he suggested gently, glancing over at his couch. The soft fabric looked inviting you thought. “It’s been a long night.”
As he moved to grab a blanket from the lower drawer of his desk, you nodded, grateful for the opportunity to rest. The idea of sinking into the softness of the couch felt like a small oasis. At least it was better than nothing. You crawled onto the couch, the gentle fabric cradling you as you settled in, letting out a small sigh of relief.
Hotch returned with the blanket. He draped it over you with a care that spoke volumes. “Thank you,” you murmured, feeling the warmth envelop you like a protective cocoon, easing some of the tension that your body still held onto.
He paused for a moment, studying you. You could see the concern carved on his face. “You really should try to get some sleep,” he urged softly, his voice was soothing. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”
As he turned to grab some files from his desk, you felt a sudden rush of vulnerability wash over you. You stopped him, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke. “You don’t have to go. I don’t mind if you work while I sleep.”
Hotch turned back to face you, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and you noticed how the tension in his features began to ease as he processed your request. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’ll be nice to have you here,” you replied, settling deeper into the cushions.
“Okay,” he replied, his smile growing warmer and more genuine. He placed the files back down on his desk, the clatter of paper breaking the silence. Then, he took a seat in his chair, he felt close enough that you could still sense his presence without the pressure of conversation.
“Goodnight, Aaron,” you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips before sleep began to pull you under.
“Goodnight."
As you drifted off, Hotch couldn’t help but steal glances at you. He watched as your eyelids fluttered, surrendering to the exhaustion. Your breathing became slow and steady, and for a moment, you almost seemed peaceful despite everything.
His mind raced with thoughts of Branson, and the danger still lurking in the shadows, yet here, in this moment, all he could see was you. He found himself entranced by the way the blanket hugged your form, how your hair fell over your face in soft strands.
As he tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him, he realized he was completely forgetting the files he had intended to work on. Every time he glanced at you, the contents of the documents seemed to fade into the background. He leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips as he took in the serenity of the scene before him.
Hotch found solace in knowing you were safe, even if just for the night. He would do everything in his power to ensure that it stayed that way.
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The first thing you noticed when you woke up was how stiff your body felt, your muscles tight from hours spent curled up on the couch. What had started as a comfortable escape from the night’s events had become a reminder of how unforgiving furniture could be as a resting place. You stretched gingerly, feeling the pull of your sore limbs, each movement was stiff. Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking as the soft, golden light of the rising sun filtered in through the large windows on the opposite end of the room.
The office was quiet. You blinked a few times, the world around you coming into focus. The blanket Hotch had given you was still wrapped snugly around your body, providing some form of comfort, if not against last night's event, then at least against the lingering chill in the air.
As you sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you glanced around the office. It felt strange to be here, so close to home yet so far. And somehow still feeling safe within the four walls of Hotch's office. The lamp on his desk was still on, casting a soft glow around it, and you realized he must have stayed nearby the whole night. The thought brought a small smile to your lips, knowing he hadn’t left you to face the fear alone.
Glancing around, you shifted your legs off the couch and stood, still cocooned in the blanket. The office was cold, making you wonder if they turned the AC off during the night, it made you shiver as you padded toward the door in just your socks, your shoes abandoned somewhere by the couch during the night. The quietness of the office felt almost surreal, especially when you were used to the constant sound of keys being tapped, papers being shuffled and phones being answered. You hesitated for a moment with your hand on the doorknob. Part of you wanted to stay hidden away in the relative safety of Hotch's office, but the pull of needing to know what was happening outside, to know if there was any news about your case pushed you forward.
With a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The familiar scent of coffee and paper greeted you. The office was mostly still, not a lot of people had shown up for work yet you presumed. As you glanced toward the bridge that overlooked the bullpen, you spotted the lights on in the conference room, telling you the team had presumably already gathered, likely debriefing or strategizing about the night’s events — hopefully.
Your stomach tightened at the thought of joining them — you wanted to know what was going on, yet frightened by the idea that the killings were turning into a sick game on a far larger scale. You lingered for a moment outside of the door, wrapping the blanket tighter around your frame.
But there was a tug in your chest, a need to know. A need to understand what the next steps were. You had been too close to the danger, too close to losing everything, and now the questions that had plagued you all night demanded answers. You took a deep breath and walked toward the conference room.
Your steps were slow and quiet, the soft padding of your socks barely making a sound against the floor. You felt oddly detached from everything around you — groggy, bones achy, and still mentally processing everything.
Through the glass in the door, you caught sight of the team, their expressions grave as they pored over the case files. Papers were scattered in every direction, and from the tense looks on their faces, you could tell they were deep in conversation.
Hotch stood at the head of the table, and though his back was to you, the familiar sight of him, so composed and in control, offered a sense of reassurance. It was strange how someone you didn't really know could be a pillar of strength in a moment when everything around you felt like it was crumbling.
You paused just outside the door, unsure if you should intrude. They were clearly in the middle of something important, and the last thing you wanted was to be a distraction. Exhaustion still clung to you, making your body feel sluggish, your mind slow to fully wake from sleep.
You watched them silently, your mind racing through the events of the previous night. It left a sick feeling in your stomach, and you closed your eyes briefly, trying to shake the images away.
A part of you longed to join them in the room, to step into the conversation and hear for yourself what they’d discovered. But another part of you — the part that was bone-tired and emotionally drained — wanted nothing more than to retreat to Hotch’s office, crawl back onto the couch, and hide away from the word in your blanket.
Taking a deep breath, you glanced back at Hotch. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. You knew he was doing everything in his power to keep you safe. For now, that had to be enough — right?
Despite your hesitation, curiosity gnawed at you. You had to know.
With a deep breath, you gently pushed open the door open, hoping to slip inside unnoticed. The conversation sounded intense as you entered, and you instinctively tried to make yourself as invisible as possible, not wanting to disrupt their work. You hovered by the door, watching as they analyzed the spread of documents, their minds already far ahead, piecing together the puzzle of the case.
"The unsub never cared about Branson. He was always after Y/N," Hotch said, his words cutting through the room like a blade. The certainty in his tone made the atmosphere shift. "She was the target from the beginning."
Your body went stiff, a wave of terror washing over you as the meaning of his words hit you. Every muscle tensed, heart hammering in your chest. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the room seemed to close in around you.
"What?!" The word tumbled out of your mouth, laced with panic. It wasn’t just a question — it was a plea for this to somehow be untrue.
The world slowed for a beat, and as your voice echoed through the room, every head turned toward you. The expressions on their faces mirrored your shock and disbelief, but none of them said a word.
Hotch’s voice cut through the room, sharper and more commanding than you'd expected. “What are you doing up?”
“I just... I wanted to see if you’d figured anything out,” you said quietly, your voice sounding smaller than intended.
"Y/N," Hotch began, his tone much gentler now, "the evidence points to the unsub targeting you specifically. Branson’s murder, the message on your door — it was all meant to scare you, to make you vulnerable."
You blinked, trying to process what he was saying, but the words made your legs feel weak. The killer was after you, not Branson. Everything was about you. A chill ran down your spine as you remembered the blood-soaked message on your front door.
"Why?" you managed to choke out.
Hotch took a step toward you. "We’re still working on the motive, but this isn’t random. Whoever this is... they know you."
You felt like the floor had dropped from beneath you. Your mind raced with the implications — who could possibly be after you like this? Why?
Hotch's eyes never left yours as he carefully laid out the pieces of the profile. "At first, we thought Leah was the target," he explained, his words clear yet heavy. "But it became clear that she was never the unsub’s endgame. Leah was used as a pawn — to isolate you, to send a message, and ultimately to draw you in."
You blinked, struggling to absorb the gravity of his words. The cold, clinical breakdown of Leah's murder felt like a punch to the gut. Leah hadn't just been an innocent victim in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had been killed to get to you. The memory of finding her body at the rink flashed through your mind. It had all seemed so random, so senseless back then.
"Leah’s death was staged for you to find," Hotch continued. "The unsub knew it would devastate you, that it would leave you vulnerable. He needed you emotionally off-balance, unsure of who to trust, and it worked."
"Branson was the last obstacle," Hotch said, his brow furrowing as he pieced everything together. "The unsub knew how close you were to him, how much time you spent together at the pavilion. Branson wasn’t just your coach — he was a fixture in your life, a constant presence. The unsub needed to remove him, to sever any connection that could shield you, completely cut off anyone who might stand in the way between him and you."
The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. You felt every gaze in the room on you.
"The M.O. has been consistent," Hotch continued, pacing slightly as he spoke. "Each victim, from the very first to Branson, was carefully selected — not randomly, not by coincidence. They were all connected to you. The unsub wasn’t targeting them for who they were, but for what they meant. Branson was just the final step in isolating you."
Your throat tightened, a lump forming as the weight of what he was saying hit you. Every life lost, every crime scene you’d encountered, was part of a sick, calculated plan designed to strip away your safety net. Leah, Branson… they weren’t just victims. They were tools, pieces of a puzzle the unsub had been meticulously constructing around you.
"But why me?" you managed to ask, your voice on the verge of breaking. "Why go through all of this just to get to me?"
Hotch took a deep breath, his expression softening. "We’re still working on the why," he admitted, "but what we do know is that the unsub has a fixation on you. Whether it's personal or something more symbolic, you're the one he want. He's most likely been watching you, planning this for a long time."
Hotch turned back toward the board, the photos of the victims now arranged in a way that made their connection to you painfully obvious. Leah, Branson, and the others — each face staring back at you. "This unsub has one goal — to get to you."
You could feel your legs trembling beneath you. It wasn’t just about being in the wrong place at the wrong time anymore. It had always been about you.
It had always been about you.
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When the meeting finally adjourned, you slipped out of the room without a word, unnoticed by the rest of the team. Your feet moved on autopilot, carrying you toward the nearest exit, seeking the open air before you even realized what you were doing. The moment you stepped outside, the cold wind hit you. It cut through the blanket, sending a shiver down your spine, but the chill was a welcome contrast to the suffocating weight pressing on your chest.
You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself as if the pressure might hold you together when everything inside felt like it was unraveling. You pressed your back against the nearest wall, seeking support as your legs threatened to give way beneath you.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke through the silence. You opened your eyes to see Hotch stepping toward you. He stopped a few feet away, keeping a respectful distance, his hands buried in his pockets. The quiet between you was heavy, almost tangible as if both of you were waiting for the other to speak first.
“Y/N,” he began softly, his voice cutting through the air. “You’ve been quiet today. I wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay. I know this is a lot to be thrown into, and I can tell that it’s weighing on you.”
“I just…” You hesitated, your voice trembling slightly as you fought to put the emotions into words. Admitting it out loud made it feel more real, and you weren’t sure you were ready to face that. “I can’t help but feel responsible, Hotch. If I had been more aware — if I had paid more attention to what was happening at the rink — maybe I could have prevented something.” Your voice cracked at the end.
“I don’t know how to process this,” you finally admitted, the confession slipping from your lips in a whisper, barely holding back the flood of emotions threatening to spill.
Without hesitation, Hotch stepped closer. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Y/N,” he said. “You had no way of knowing what was happening. Leah and Branson’s deaths aren’t on you.”
Despite Hotch’s reassurances, the guilt still clung to you. "But I trained with her, I was there, and I missed all the signs. If I had just noticed something — anything — I could’ve helped," you murmured. The image of Leah’s face, her laughter, how she would light up once stepping onto the ice. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like you had failed her.
Hotch’s expression didn’t waver, but his voice dropped, taking on a more personal tone. "We all miss things sometimes," he said. "Even when we’re right in the middle of it, even when we're trained to see it. Believe me, I know how hard it is not to carry that burden. But you’re here now, and you're helping us piece this together. That's what matters."
You looked away for a moment, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as you fought to hold them back. His words were kind, but the pain of losing Leah — and the fear of losing more people you cared about—was still raw.
"I just don’t want to let anyone else down," you whispered, your voice so quiet it barely rose above the wind.
You could feel the warmth of his presence beside you. "You won’t," he said softly. "We’re in this together, Y/N. You’re not alone in this fight."
“None of this is your fault,” Hotch continued. “You've done everything you could to help us, and you’re still here — That’s what matters.”
You nodded, your head moving almost on its own, but inside, the doubt still lingered. The truth of Hotch’s words felt distant, buried beneath the crushing weight of your thoughts. “It just feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff,” you murmured, trying to paint him the picture you were experiencing. The words spilled out before you could stop them. There was a tremor in your voice, although small it was undeniable. “And I can’t see what’s below. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
“I know what it feels like to be on that edge,” he said, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard. “To feel like the ground’s going to give way, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. But you’re not standing there alone.”
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak, but you managed a quiet, “How do you deal with it?”
“You focus on what you can control,” he said finally. “The people you can protect, the steps you can take. And you lean on the people who are there for you.” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not facing this alone, Y/N. We’re going to stop him. I promise you won’t lose anyone else.”
His words wrapped around you like a safety net. You hadn’t expected his sincerity to reach so deeply, and as it sank in, a strange warmth pulsed through your chest — a stirring that went beyond gratitude. His reassurance should have brought only comfort, but there was something more layered within it, a growing tension between you that you couldn’t ignore, something that had lingered in each shared glance, simmering just below the surface for weeks.
Every word he spoke felt like it drew you in, pulling you into his orbit. It was almost unnerving, the invisible connection weaving between you despite your circumstances. And yet, it also felt steady — something constant amid the whirlwind.
You looked at him, taking in the seriousness in his expression, his posture, the way he seemed so prepared to protect you from anything — and yet also so keenly aware of the risks. The thought made your heart ache.
In this moment, with the two of you standing just inches apart, it felt as though the case had created a connection that you could no longer deny. Every word, every glance between you held a gravity that went beyond the investigation. You saw it in his eyes.
You felt the urge to speak, to break the silence, but the words caught in your throat, held back, like you couldn’t quite articulate what you wanted to say. Instead, you let out a quiet breath, one that seemed to say everything you couldn’t.
Hotch’s hand twitched at his side as if he, too, was grappling with the pull between you, resisting the instinct to reach out. You could feel his restraint, the careful way he held himself, aware that even the smallest movement might tip you both over an invisible line. There was a sense of inevitability, of something that had been building for far too long, yet held back by professionalism.
You watched his breath escape into the cold, hanging between you. For just a heartbeat, his normally guarded expression softened, and in that fleeting vulnerability, you glimpsed something raw, something he’d worked so hard to keep hidden. There was a gentleness beneath the intensity of his gaze, a silent acknowledgment that you weren’t just another civilian to protect, not just a responsibility to bear.
His dark eyes held yours, searching, as though trying to communicate everything that words could never capture. Every second that passed felt like it brought you closer to some uncharted line.
The world beyond the two of you seemed to fade into a blur. It was just the two of you, bound in a space that felt like it could shatter with a breath, yet impossibly strong.
The distance between you shrank, each heartbeat a steady drumbeat against the air. Though the cold nipped at your skin, you could feel the warmth radiating from him, almost magnetic, pulling you closer. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crispness of the air.
“Hotch…” The word slipped from your lips, softer than you’d intended. His gaze held yours, and in it, you saw everything — the worry, the protectiveness, the tension — everything.
Your breath hitched, your heart pounding, and almost without realizing it, you leaned just a fraction closer. The smallest movement, but it felt monumental. Hotch’s hand brushed the side of your arm, his touch controlled yet hesitant as if testing the waters. The warmth of his fingers against your skin sent a shiver through you.
In that brief, suspended moment, it felt like everything you’d been holding back — every unsaid word, every hidden glance, every moment of shared silence — they aligned.
And then — the sharp, intrusive ring of his phone shattered the quiet, piercing through the stillness like an alarm.
In an instant, the spell broke. The warmth between you dissipated, replaced by a jarring awareness of the space you now stood in — the same world you had briefly left behind. Hotch blinked, and you saw his expression shift, the softness in his eyes vanishing as his features hardened, slipping back into the familiar armor of his professionalism. He released your arm, his fingers trailing away, leaving only the faintest sensation of warmth that seemed to fade too quickly.
With practiced efficiency, he pulled the phone from his pocket, glancing down at the screen as his shoulders straightened and his jaw tightened. The moment — fragile and fleeting — was gone as if it had never been, as if the connection you’d felt just seconds before had been nothing more than a daydream.
You exhaled softly, feeling the chill settle over you once more. The air felt colder now, sharper, biting against your skin. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly aware of the emptiness left behind, as Hotch lifted the phone to his ear, his voice low and commanding as he responded.
"Hotchner," He replied as he answered the phone.
Hotch's expression shifted in an instant. He didn’t need to say a word; the two of you moved in sync, instinctively heading toward his car.
“I’ll drive,” he said, his tone commanding but not unkind.
You hesitated for a split second, catching the hint of concern lingering beneath his steely resolve. “Hotch, you know I would have gone either way, right?”
He gave a slight nod. “I know. Which is exactly why you’re coming with me.” His jaw set as he started the engine, adding in a tone just above a murmur, “It’s safer this way.”
As you neared the rink, the darkness in the sky seemed to darken the closer you got, and Hotch’s hands tightened on the wheel. He cast you a sidelong glance, his eyes steady and serious. “Stay close to me. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
You nodded. “Got it. Right beside you.”
He exhaled, his grip on the wheel loosening just a fraction. “Good.”
As you entered the rink, the scene that unfolded felt like stepping into a nightmare. The quiet space was transformed into a tense, chaotic tableau. Clusters of staff and coaches huddled together, their hushed voices forming a low hum that seemed to vibrate with barely restrained fear.
As you moved further in, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the anxiety that clung to the air. Some of the coaches stood with their arms crossed, brows furrowed, watching the crowd as if bracing for more bad news. Others paced nervously, their gazes darting around as though expecting something — or someone — to appear from the shadows any second now. It was as if the entire crowd had been frozen, caught in a collective breath of dread, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Hotch’s hand found the small of your back. He leaned in, his voice low. “Keep your eyes sharp. People are scared — they might not even realize what they’ve seen.” Hotch remained close by your side.
“What happened?” Hotch’s voice cut through the anxious murmur that blanketed the rink.
A staff member stepped forward, clearly shaken, his face pale and his hands trembling slightly. He swallowed, struggling to find his voice. “It’s… it’s one of the skaters. They found another body in the locker room. It’s bad… really bad.” Each word was heavy, laden with a gravity that turned the air even colder.
Your heart sank, a coil of dread tightening in your stomach as the realization hit — another life taken, another person lost. You turned to Hotch, locking eyes, the horror in his expression mirroring your own.
“Stay behind me,” Hotch instructed. “I don’t want you to see more than you have to.” His protective tone made it clear he understood the weight of what you were about to witness, even if he wished you didn’t have to. But you knew there was no turning back now; you needed to see this through.
The locker room greeted you with an oppressive silence, punctuated only by the faint hum rink cooling system in the back. The sight before you was haunting. There, sprawled on the cold, tiled floor, lay another skater. Recognition hit you instantly as you took in her familiar features. She was young, barely more than a child, perhaps no older than fifteen or sixteen — just a teenager.
Your breath hitched in your throat, the contrast of her bright skating gear against the dark, glistening pool was a sight too tragic to bear. The vivid hues of her outfit, now lay drowned in a sea of red, her innocence stolen. The room felt as if it were spinning. Every instinct screamed for you to look away, to spare yourself the trauma, yet you found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to turn from the horror that lay before you. This wasn’t supposed to happen — you barely even knew this girl — the unsub wasn't supposed to target people you didn't know — or people you knew for the matter.
Hotch’s gaze fell on you, noticing the tremor in your shoulders, the haunted look in your eyes. His concern deepened, and he quickly stepped closer, his hand resting on your arm. “Stay back,” he instructed, his voice firm but soft, gently encouraging you to distance yourself from the scene — he knew you weren't strong enough to continue seeing the horrors for much longer.
But you couldn’t move. It was as though every part of you was chained to the scene before you. You felt a chill creeping over you, a sense that you would never be able to feel safe in the pavilion again.
As the rest of the team arrived, your heart hammered in your chest. Each face that passed, each hurried glance, only served to remind you of the moment, amplifying the dread that had already taken root deep in your bones.
“Get her out of here!” Hotch commanded as the rest of the team entered the locker room, his voice cutting through the noise with an authority that brooked no argument. The tone of his command was a jolt to your system, pulling you back to reality as you struggled to comprehend the situation.
“Come on, honey, let’s go take a breath of air,” Emily’s voice was soft but firm, her hands wrapping around your shoulders as she gently steered you out of the locker room. You leaned into her touch, grateful for the solid, presence amid the storm swirling inside you. Each step she guided you felt like a small reprieve from the nightmare.
Emily gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, sensing the weight you carried. “Take your time,” she murmured, her tone was soothing. The ache in your chest pulsed with each heartbeat, and though you felt yourself moving farther from the scene, you knew that the memory of this moment— the sense of loss and helplessness you constantly felt — would stay with you, woven deep into your mind.
Emily led you to the bleachers, where the soft hum of the rink faded into the background. You sank onto a cold metal seat, your mind racing as you grappled with the surreal reality of it all. The icy breath of the arena brought a sharp clarity, but it also deepened the ache in your chest. You had always viewed skating as a sanctuary, a place of beauty and grace, but now it felt tainted, marred by the violence that had infiltrated your world. The camaraderie and support you once cherished seemed distant, replaced by an unsettling feeling of vulnerability.
She guided you to the bleachers. The muted hum of the rink felt like it receded as you sank down onto the cold metal seat — although it still rang in your ears. Emily didn’t speak, just offered a reassuring closeness, as if she understood the depths of your emotions. Deep down, a part of you feared that the pavilion — if not skating all together — wouldn't feel the same ever again.
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trippedandmissed · 2 years ago
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Every few days this gets a like or reblog and I just hope even half of y’all had to look up Housebound or Branson Reese, because the whole post was just a vehicle for that joke lol
Sometimes a found family is a woman who’s having an emotional affair with the ghost of Charles II, a man who wants to be a vigilante so bad it ruins his romantic relationship, a woman who wants superpowers so bad she can’t see how she’s hurting those around her, and a cat named Jizzlord who is also a man that looks like the love child of Branson Reese and Eugene from Housebound
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wowwforever · 6 months ago
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POKEMON EVIL TEAMS RANKED BY HOW LIKELY I WOULD BE TO JOIN THEM
Team Flare
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I'm not wearing that suit and I'm not changing my hair. Lysandre is easily the fucking dumbest antagonist and if their plan is successful either they're immortal and I have to live with these losers forever or the whole world dies and I have to live with these losers until I die.
Team Yell
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This entire team is centered around having a parasocial relationship with a teenage girl. Also British.
Team Galactic
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Similar horrible haircut, bad outfit, and death cult scenario to Team Flare. At least they're like a semi-actual company. I could maybe just go bald and get a regular job after the Poke-government liquidates Team Galactic LLC. But I legitimately think this would be the least fun evil company to work at. Imagine stealing some kids Pokemon but you get chewed out by fucking Galactic Admin Uranus because you forgot to fill out the Paperwork.
The Lame Part of Team Plasma
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Okay so to clarify these are the people that actually believe in the Team Plasma shit, which means I'd probably be spit on in the streets while wearing chainmail in New York. Why the fuck would I wear Chain Mail on the East Coast? Do you know how much rust there is? Also I have to become a ginger and worship some green manchild as a monarch. At least they're not a death cult.
Team Rocket
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This one is just being a criminal. Like, yeah, you get to steal Pokemon but there's no real advantages except the free gray boots. Probably does not pay well and Giovanni leaving kind of sent them spiraling. Plus they have a lot of Koffings in an underground base so you know there's like lung damage galore. The R stands for Respiratory Distress.
Team Aqua
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I don't like the idea of being surrounded by the ocean and I do not like boats and submarines. I would actively join this to sabotage their plan. Also every other evil team has an actual place to put their Pokeballs but this one it seems like the plan is to just shove it in my underwear? ???
Team Star
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I haven't actually played Scarlet and Violet because I recently learned I can legally drink. I think this one is the equivalent of a school club? So I'm not actually getting paid to do evil shit. I'd probably just join, like, DnD club or something.
Team Rainbow Rocket
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I'd join this one just because I know it's going to fail. I mean, it's got like four people who explicitly just want to end the world in different ways. I'm just gonna join and steal pens and shit until it eventually crashes in on itself for infighting. I'd wear my gay-ass R shirt every june in line with a P, I, D, and E.
The Cool Part of Team Plasma
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Fuck yeah. This is the Team Plasma that knows the shit Ghetsis is up to. I'd love to be in on the scheme, plus I don't have to wear chainmail. Downside is I'd probably get murdered or have to murder to stay in, and they have the biggest shot of accomplishing their goal. But Ghetsis is hot so that's a plus.
Team Magma
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This one is because there's 0.0% chance this plan will work but I get to just hang out in these cute-ass hoodies and pet camerupts all day. Look at that outfit, I'd wear that all the time. That being said, would probably have to be a field guy. Their location is in a volcano. I'm gonna get a call that says 'Hey all of Team Magma's leadership died' and I'd have to get a job at like Poke7-11 with a major gap in my resume.
Macro Cosmos
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This hardly counts as a villain team because they're just, like, security guards for a company whose CEO goes a lil nuts. This is like if you worked for Virgin Atlantic and Richard Branson decided to summon Satan. No one can really put that on you. You'd probably get paid ridiculous amounts of money for essentially doing nothing. Con is you'd have to live in Galar.
Aether Foundation
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Working for the Aether Foundation is like doing an internship at Bell Labs or whatever. The evil shit is probably fixed by the end of the game and I could just go back to researching Rotom electromagnetic applications and have that 'week where we tried to fuck up reality' be a weird company thing we brush under the rug. The con is they have all white outfits so I can't eat spaghetti at work. But even if I left I could probably just use Aether Foundation as a decent enough jumping off point for any career.
Team Skull
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Genuinely this is just goofing off with a bunch of scummy weirdos. I can respect that and their outfits are thankfully not skin-tight jumpsuits, but main I'd join because they all kind of suck. With the most moderate competency I could run Team Skull. Also Guzma. He's pretty hot.
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montanamp3 · 7 months ago
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in the spirit of the genre i'd like to hijack the current asian country music train to talk about one of my favourite historical guys shoji tabuchi: fiddler hall of famer! king of kitsch americana slay!! one of the Most Guys Ever in country music!!!!!
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[OKAY this spiralled into a Whole Thing so im putting it under the cut to save your dashes. be warned this is long]
quick backstory: shoji tabuchi was born in osaka, japan. he was classically trained on the violin but discovered country through roy acuff and joined a fairly popular japanese band called the bluegrass ramblers. in 1967 he moved to america with (he claimed later) his guitar and five hundred dollars and played in a couple of bands around california and texas. in the 80s, he got a contract in branson missouri, met his wife there, and they started a show called (very creatively) the shoji tabuchi show.
this is where it gets fun, because the shoji tabuchi show is. okay. it's like if you concentrated the distilled essence of 1990s RAGHHH AMERICA HELL YEAH-style patriotism into a three hour-long extravaganza with backup dancers! fog machines! ten thousand glitter suits! SHOJI spelled out all caps with lasers! a glow in the dark space violin from NASA! like it's TACKY! it's CHEESY! it's CAMP! it's genuinely hilarious!
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anyway, when people talk about tabuchi they like to say that he was the "american dream" like he had a family, he owned a whole incredible theatre with (no joke) the gaudiest bathrooms in america, he played two shows a day until he died, he performed to the pm of japan… like he was GETTING THAT BREAD!! the city of branson even gave him a public holiday!
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and to be clear. i love tabuchi, i think he was a great entertainer and a great performer, and i don't begrudge him any of his success. but there are better fiddlers out there, better performers, better singers. as a guy on reddit put it in 2013 put it, you kind of have to recognise that at least some part of his success is enabled by "Asian Can Into Country Music???" syndrome. and he has kind of acknowledged this himself-- he used to sell himself as the "japanese cowboy" before he started his show, and he once told a magazine "say person A and person B play [the fiddle] just as good. who stands out, me or him?" which is. #girlboss? maybe? one of his more defining traits throughout his career was his fairly pronounced japanese accent which made it difficult for him to gain footing in the music industry at first but became iconic . some people have said that he didn't actually have that strong of an accent and he was playing it up for the Bit-- a hypothesis that is (somewhat) supported by his album named (i kid you not) ROVE RETTERS.
so how much of the shoji tabuchi show was the Bit and how much of it was genuine? and if it is a bit, who's in on it? who's being made fun of- tabuchi? japan? the audience? america? i have to admit i'm pretty biased here because the essential Incongruence of being an asian-can-into-country-music person IS funny! rawhide kobayashi and all that! and i understand why he might have leant into it and played it up to survive/get famous/get that bread. i never knew tabuchi, so i can't say that like it's fact, but wouldn't that be the most american thing of all?
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bambamramfan · 4 months ago
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What If They Win
Too much has been written about the horse race of this election, but not nearly enough analysis about how either administration will govern. There's some fearmongering about Project 2025 or courtpacking, but that's propaganda not actual predictions.
(FWIW, I think Trump has this race in the bag, but can understand people who still hope think this is a coin flip.)
If Harris Wins...
Harris has held together a remarkable coalition of people against Trump. Mainstream Democratic politicians, YIMBY pundit technocrats, far lefters holding their nose, and Republican neoconservatives. This is no criticism, it's pretty impressive how they are coming together to defeat a common enemy, and I really really would like them to win.
But what happens to a coalition defined by a common enemy, after they win? Let's assume the best case scenario and she gets a Democratic Senate who confirms her cabinet and some SCOTUS judges.
Who supports Harris in the press, or is vote-corraling for her in Congress? Not those Republicans who hope to turn a page on the Trump era. Not a far left who has decided to hate her as a centrist sell out. Not moderate dems who will run away from any hint of weakness. Maybe a few of those YIMBY pundits who hope she's actually committed to more houses and nuclear power. But that's no political hyperpower.
What would her first major bill be? Who would support it? It will be just one scandal plagued administration with little support from any quarter that makes its ground breaking "first" for subaltern identities a disappointing token. The David Dinkens of the White House.
I predict that President Harris would have the lowest approval rating in her first year of any President we have polling for. It's gonna be brutal, and an easy 2028 win for Republicans (who hopefully won't be running 82 year old Trump.)
If Trump Wins...
This is the interesting one. I've heard a lot of people say that a second Trump term will be even worse than the first because he's fully unleased now and no one can stop him from doing what he really wants. And I think this is partly true.
I just don't think what he wants is "Republican authoritarian rule." Sure, he will probably let the Fed Society still pick the judges (which he never cared about besides thinking they should be loyal to him) and there will almost certainly be a tax cut/extension. But besides that?
In the first Trump term, he had VP Pence, Jeff Sessions as AG, governors like Chris Christie, and three establishment figures at State, Defense, and Treasury making a pact that if Trump fires one they all resign. It was an actual coalition of Republicans and Trumpists who need each other. Even Jared Kushner was pretty establishment friendly (he's the one who approved Pence.)
Jared and Ivanka are gone now, replaced by Eric and Donjr. The VP is a Thiel-acolyte who isn't anti-Republican but sure is "from the blogs." And the endorsers Trump touts are RFK Jr, Tulsi Gabbard, Elon Musk (while more and more mod Republicans endorse Harris.)
This isn't a Trump face over a body of Republicans - this is a Trump leader over all the fringe outsiders of American weirdo culture. I think Trump *actually does* want to appoint RFK to Secretary of Health, and indulge in every conspiracy, organic hippie, crunchy nonsense - which actually has a lot of believers across the country, but extremely little following in DC itself.
I think this will be hilarious beyond our wildest dreams of entertainment. It will not be a functional fascism - it will be closer to Jill Stein and Richard Branson and Andrew Tate. He'll try to pass laws that every kid in America needs to eat healthy and also work in a McDonalds.
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batboyblog · 8 months ago
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A Tale of Two Judges
In federal court in Florida today a judge struck down a Florida law banning gender affirming care for minors as well as rules from the state's medical authority that set up barriers to trans adults seeking care
At the same time a federal court in Texas blocked guidance from the Biden Administration's Department of Education that Title IX should be understood as protecting trans students
And I think this is a great illustration that elections last LONG after they're finished, one judge blasted Florida's law as unconstitutional and quoted Dr. King in framing trans rights as the same as the struggle for racial equality and called on the courts to support them. The other gleefully sided with Republicans with Texas AG Ken Paxton declaring "“Joe Biden’s unlawful effort to weaponize Title IX for his extremist agenda has been stopped in its tracks"
The Judge in Florida was Senior Judge Robert Hinkle, he was appointed by President Bill Clinton in 1996, Hinkle took the semi-retirement known as senior status in 2016, but still hears cases as he did here. Hinkle also ruled in 2014 that Florida's ban on same-sex marriage was unconstitutional.
The Judge in Texas is Judge Reed O'Connor, He was appointed by President George W. Bush in 2007. O'Connor is very active in the conservative Federalist Society, Conservative Lawyers and Texas Attorneys General try to file their insane, legally nonsense, show boat cases in his court because if they get him he'll rule for the Republican side and against the Democratic side no matter what. In 2016 he blocked Obama Admin rules that declared Title IX meant trans students should be allowed to use the bathroom of their choice. While the Obama team appealed, once Trump was elected the rule was pulled and the case died.... hm. O'Connor is best known as that crazy man who ruled the Affordable Care Act unconstitutional in 2018, he was reversed, he ruled the Indian Child Welfare Act was unconstitutional, he ruled in 2022 the US Navy couldn't require Navy SEALS get Covid vaccines.
all to say when you get into a voting booth remember one of the things you vote for is Judges, who have a huge amount of power, and you can either get cool progressive minded judges who will still be making ground breaking rulings to protect civil rights 28 years after being nominated, or you can get conservative hacks who rule whatever wing nut thing they see on Fox 18 years after being nominated. During his Presidency Trump got to nominate 234 federal judges (Biden is currently at 201) including 3 Supreme Court Justices (Biden has 1) And those judges will be with us for years not like 10 years, or even 20, or even 30, no no no, Judge Albert Branson Maris was nominated by FDR in 1936 and served till his death at age 95 in 1989, JFK's last nominee, William Joseph Nealon Jr., passed away still hearing cases at the age of 95 in 2018 (the second to last passed away the year before in 2017) LBJ's last judge, Jack B. Weinstein, only passed away in 2021, there are at least 7 Nixon judges still hearing cases, 50 years after Nixon Resigned from office in 1974. We will be dealing with Trump's Judges for 40-50 maybe more years. So keep that in mind when you vote.
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foxlady3 · 6 months ago
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Downton Abbey thoughts
Recently finished the entire series and both movies, and here are some things I'd love to see in the third film:
Would love to see Tom Branson become socialist again, I got weary of the constant praise for his successful transition into higher society, becoming a good little capitalist and properly loyal citizen of the British Empire who would never ever dream of rocking the boat anymore because that might upset the Crawleys blah blah blah. Would like to see him involved in a strike for workers rights.
Would love for Thomas and Guy to return to York and open a clockmaker's shop as a front for the secret gay bar they'll be running out the back. Thomas could resurrect his old scheming-chaotic-manipulation tactics to protect the place and the customers. You know, bribing the cops, blackmailing prosecutors ("I see there's some friends of mine up for trial that you're accusing of public indecency. Maybe you'd be kind enough to drop the charges? No? Well, gosh, it sure would be a shame if your wife found out about the lady friend you visit every Thursday...oh. so you *will* drop the charges? Much obliged, good sir, much obliged.") that sort of thing, it'd be great.
I don't have much hope for seeing any of this in the film, of course (though I was pleasantly surprised that Fellowes put in the gay bar scene in the first movie, I suspect he probably won't do much else with gay subculture) so if anyone wants to use these for fanfics, be my guest :)
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guardian-angle22 · 9 months ago
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Tag Game Tuesday: 911 Lone Star Fandom Edition
Thank you for the tags! @thisbuildinghasfeelings @rmd-writes & @goldenskykaysani
When did you first start watching Lone Star? Who or what introduced you to the show?
I first started watching LS around the 2nd or 3rd episode of season 1 after seeing some adorable gifs of Owen & TK floating around on my tumblr feed.
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I wish I could find out who patient zero was that first brought them to my attention from my follow list, but I think it must've been someone from the Skam fandom? maybe?
Which season is your favorite?
Season 3, baby!! and ngl, I highly doubt anything will top it at this point just based off where the plots have gone since.
Who is your favorite character? (Bonus: If you answered TK or Carlos, who is your favorite besides them?)
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I mean - y'all knew what the answer would be to this one, right? Obviously Paul is my favorite. I do also really love TK. I know I have a reputation for loving Paul because I get very animated about him LOL... but I would like to put TK in my pocket and keep him safe forever, thank you.
Top five episodes. Go!
3.13
2.09
3.08
2.08
3.04
If you could pick any character to be given a "begins" episode, who would it be and what would that episode look like?
Paul. One hundred percent, I need it from Paul. I know everyone and their brother is going to or has answered Carlos for this and that tracks for a tarlos based fandom... but my unpopular opinion is that we've gotten quite a bit of character backstory for him this past season compared to some others like Nancy, Paul, and Marj. I feel like Paul has been part of the core group since the beginning but hasn't seen the amount of meaty plots as some of the others have. He's due!
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What is a scenario or storyline that you would like to see in season 5?
Okay, I have two ideas for this: - an episode in which some of the characters who rarely interact are somehow trapped together due to some kind of emergency/disaster/storm and must navigate their way out together while the rest of the team helps from the outside. There are a few groupings we could use for it, but I personally would have the potential pairings be one of the following (or all three at once??): Paul & Tommy... TK & Grace... Judd & Carlos. I feel like these 3 pairings are people we don't get to see interact one-on-one often (or at all) and it would be super fun! - a true HEAT WAVE. they very briefly had that heat thing happen in 4x01 but I want a whole episode about a temperature heat wave and how first responders have to deal with them. this is TEXAS, c'mon. Plus the theme of heat throughout the episode could pop up in various character's stories. Tarlos = sexy heat. One of the firefighters = heat in the form of pressure in their job like a promotion of some kind. etc.
What do you think is going on in this still?
I have absolutely no fucking clue 😂 So I will instead direct you to this wonderful little spec fic by @littlemissmarianna As much as I hate everything to do with the Gabriel plot and tbh am not excited to see its continuation... if they manage to pull something off like that fic, I might actually enjoy some of it!
We all know about the elusive 5x05 spicy scene that has been teased, so what is your prediction for how it could possibly top 1x02?
... soooooooo I must confess something here...
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*whispers* I don't actually know all about the elusive 5.05 spicy scene. someone needs to fill me in. I have not been paying attention to spoilers & speculation as much this time around since last season's speculation went so terribly for me 🤭🤣
Where was the Tarlos honeymoon in your mind?
Something about Carlos "getting homesick after a weekend in Branson" just tickles me. and the sarcastic way TK talks about the idea of Carlos wanting to travel the world also just amuses me to no end...
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so this paired with the way the wedding went down, I think TK wouldn't want to make Carlos travel very far. or leave his mother so soon. I think TK wants his husband to feel as safe and comfortable as possible and so they spend a weekend at a nice spa/resort near Austin. Some place like this: Miraval Austin and then spend the rest of their honeymoon week bundled up together at home.
Shoutout one of your favorite fan creations.
for fics, I'm gonna be a little lazy here and link some of my previous themed fic rec lists:
but truly there are some wonderful fics in those lists!!! For some fanart: - this one by @whatsintheboxmh is one of my faves. ankle grab my beloved. 🥺🥰 - this one of s5 TK by @fitzherbertssmolder is so adorable! - this one of BUTTERCUP! by @greentealycheejelly is absolutely precious. - this one of Paul & Marjan!! by @heartstringsduet is amazingggg. give me all the paul fanart - this one of Grace by @yorit1 is stunning.
I'm not sure who has already done this, but I'm gonna tag some mutuals that I don't think I've seen it from yet (no pressure though!!) @lemonlyman-dotcom @herefortarlos @tkstrandreyes @three-drink-amy @littlemissmarianna @mikibwrites @alrightbuckaroo
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nightingale2004 · 1 year ago
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If the cullens were in the TVD universe, headcanons
Obviously, the Cullens are still considered "vegetarians." And one of the few vampire clans that feed off of animal blood.
Carlisle is Lexi Branson's real father, and you can't tell me otherwise.
Lexi would introduce Stefan to the Cullens, and Carlisle and Esme would be the psrents that Stefan needed.
Edward and Stefan were distant around each other at first, but then they got along and got real close later.
They are still mostly located in Washington Forks, but they still travel.
Damon would obviously meet them and at first hate them for stealing his brother, and I also think he feels like he's being replaced.
Lexi loves Esme and Carlisle and her adopted siblings.
Stefan, Lexi, Emmett, and Alice definitely go to Bon Jovi concerts together.
Stefan and Rosalie bonded over fixing vehicles together.
Stefan and Jasper get along decently, but I think Damon and Jasper would be closer, considering they were both soldiers.
Carlisle and Esme did not like Damon's behavior along with the trouble and misery he caused Stefan, but they know Damon's Stefan's brother and that Stefan loves him despite everything.
Damon (lowkey) gets close with the Cullen family and (maybe 😏) a connection blooms between him and Rosalie (ENEMIES TO LOVERS!!)
After Caroline was turned, she joined the Cullen clan, and they loved their new member of their family.
Stefan and Edward definitely went through the rebellious ripper phase together (big sister Lexi fixed them)
The cullens would know of the Mikaelson (what vampire doesn't know of them?) and would fear the Mikaelsons as much as anyone, but when it comes to Stefan, Damon, Caroline or anyone of their family, they would die for them.
Family reunions every few years.
Hate Katharine with a passion, especially Alice, Rosalie, and Lexi (protective sisters... Let's gooooo!!!!)
When they got introduced to Elena, they obviously have concerns (mostly Lexi and Rosalie). But they learn to accept Stefan and Damon's choice of women (Rosalie doesn't like Elena, same with Bella)
The cullens are gonna get involved with the drama at mystic falls (obviously), same thing with Stefan and Damon getting involved with the Cullen drama.
The Volturi are terrified of the Mikaelsons but at the same time worship them (Elijah obviously created them)
Bonnie is cautious of them, but she gets along well with some of the cullens.
Caroline and Alice obviously are fashion sisters
Stefan, I feel like would kind of get along with Jacob since they both are into auto mechanics.
That's all for today. Enjoy!
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novaksupremacy · 8 months ago
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The Veiled Law of Affection-Chapter 7
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hey my lovelies, sorry this has taken me so long! I proofread but my brain is also mush post Calculus final. Chapter takes place surrounding the events of S6E1 "Birthright" It's probably also my longest chapter to date 😅😅 angst, cute fluff, svu case talk, and of course your precious smut 😜I promise your next fix (and some one shot Calex stuff) won't take as long.❤️
Pairing: Casey Novak x Olivia Benson
Word Count: 8955
by PKJ @novaksupremacy
Read Part 6    
     “Patricia Branson, 6 years old, guy tried kidnapping her in a park full of people.” The uniform on scene told Liv and Elliot as they followed him to the victim and her father.
            “Anybody see anything? Stabler asked.
            “Only description we got was a white guy in a baseball cap, bystander chased him, but he got away.” The Uni continued.
            Liv scribbled notes down furiously as they walked.
            Elliot pulled the dad off to the side so that Liv could talk to Patty. She sat down in the ambulance using a soft voice to question the little girl. She quickly realized this was not the first time the child had encountered her would-be abductor. The little girl had originally seen who Liv had deduced to be a young adult/ older teenager for the first time outside the grocery store when he offered to let her play with his puppy.
******
            Fin and Munch stood outside the sliding glass doors next to the electronic kiddie ride Patty had described and showed her picture to the grocery store manager.
            “Anybody every use that thing?” Finn asked.
            “Sure,” the manager said with a thick NY accent, “kids ride that thing all the time. You’ll have to ask my employees if they’ve seen the girl though.”
            “What about anyone strange hanging around?” Finn continued to question.
            The manager crinkled his mustache, “Does that include two guys in a blue van?”
            John shot a glance at his partner then back at the manager, “What’d they look like?”
            “Both white, middle aged guy and some teenager with a mutt in his lap. Last week, right by the front door, blocking all my deliveries. Called the cops, Arizona plates and the number. Nobody showed up.”
            “We’ve got a pair of pedophiles,” Finn lamented as they left the grocery store and crossed the street.
            “With their very own perv mobile.” Munch added as they opened the doors to the sedan.
            “SVU Portable I have your plate.” Dispatch said over the radio and proceeded to give information about a complaint made outside Patty Branson’s school.
            “Alright we’re on it,” Detective Tutuola radioed back and hopped into the car.
            As they drove to their next destination John turned to Finn, “Hey you think Liv and Casey joined one of those women’s safety boxing classes or something.”
            Finn contorted his face, “Man where do you come up with this stuff. What makes you think that?”
            Munch shrugged, “I don’t know they’re just always showing up at work with bruises lately. I thought maybe they took up boxing or something. Or maybe they’re going to the bar after work and not inviting us, hanging out with their secret boyfriends while we hang behind and do all the paperwork.”
            Fin did his best to stifle his laughter, “Look man, I will tell you both Benson AND Novak are both seeing someone. But unless they come in with a black eye one day, I’ll let you do your own detective work on the rest of it.”
******
            “Why Patty?” Elliot asked when they realized their mystery men have Patty’s routine down. The park she visits, her school, when she’ll be alone.
            “They’re obsessed.” Liv offered.
            Elliot looked up to see the van parked not far from them, “They’re here. Circle around and call for backup.”
            Fin and Munch pulled up alongside Benson and Stabler’s sedan and rolled down their window to get the briefing.
            “Watch the back of that van,” John said as one of the suspects jumped out, “The big boy, complete with red baseball cap.”
            Cragen and Fin approached the van and banged on the window.
            “It’s an IAB caper Captain” the suspect said to Cragen flashing his shield.
            “What’s todays color then,” Fin questioned.
            “Purple.”
            Fin cocked his gun aiming it at the suspect, “Wrong. Take the keys out the ignition and step out of the vehicle.”
            The man behind the wheel hit the gas rather than comply. Fin and Cragen turned their attention to the second suspect in the ball cap, while Liv and Elliot took off after the van. After a brief chase Elliot managed to overtake the van by rear ending it, they drew down as the driver stepped out and then apprehended him. Munch managed to cut off the second suspect in the other squad car just in time for Cragen and Fin to apprehend him as well.
******
            “Three THOUSAND dollars’ worth of damage to the car?” Cragen exclaimed.
            “What can I say boss, I zigged when I should’ve zagged.” Elliot shrugged.
            “Let’s find a way to send these guys the bill, I already don’t like them. They made me run.” Cragen threw the invoice on his desk. “What do we know about them so far.”
            “PI ticket pretty well known for reuniting kidnapped kids with their parents. The kids ticket is legit too.” Liv rattled off from her notes.
            “So, someone hired them to snatch Patty.” The captain queried.
            “Seems that way Cap. No one’s talking.”
            “Let’s find out who and why.”
******
            “Can my Mommy come in too?” Patty had tears coming down her face.
            “No honey it’s very important that you do this by yourself so we can get the bad guy.” Liv said sweetly to the little girl.
            Elliot bent down next to her, “Hey Patty is it okay if I pick you up.” She sniffled and nodded. Elliot scooped her up. “I want to show you something special. See this glass?” He walked around to the other side. “No one on this side can see you, its magic, protects you from the bad guys and then we can take care of the rest.”
            The perps made their way into the lineup room.
            “I’m scared of the boy with the four. He pulled my hair at the park.”
******
            After a positive ID on the younger perp and a few hours of grilling them, the older PI told them that Patty’s biological mother hired them to find her daughter. The detectives took a ride to the address that the suspects gave up and went to investigate. Michelle Osborn answered the door and weaved them a tale about how her daughter had been abducted from a car accident that caused the death of her husband. She showed them a facial aging print out that showed what her daughter might look like now, remarkably similar to Patty, along with the addition of the diabetes diagnoses. She also led them into her daughters room which she had updated to welcome home a now 6 year old little girl.
            Elliot placed cuffs on her as Liv spoke. “Michelle Osborne you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit kidnapping.”
            On the way out of arraignment Casey ran to catch up with Liv, “Hey they said you were in a car accident. Why didn’t you call me? Are you okay?” the redhead said frantically scanning her girlfriend for any sign of bodily injury.
            “Baby I’m fine. I promise. It was barely a fender bender. We hit the back of the van chasing the PI’s. If anything, I’ll be a little sore tomorrow.”
            “Well, you’re definitely in for a massage later, but are you sure you’re alright?” There they were: the puppy dog eyes that melted any worry Liv ever had.
            “I promise, I gotta catch up with Huang, but hey.” She grabbed Casey’s hand. “Case, if something did happen, I have I card in my wallet saying you’re my emergency contact, and have you saved in my phone that way too.” She tugged on her girlfriends arm a bit before walking away. “I’ll see you later okay?” Casey watched until Liv disappeared into the crowd after catching up with Huang and getting on the elevator.
******
            It didn’t take Michelle Osborne more than a few hours to violate her order of protection.
            “You’re making a mistake!” Michelle shouted at Liv.
            “No Michelle, you are. I read the police report, you’re daughter died in that accident with your husband and now you’ve violated the order of protection and I have to take you to jail, and the judge is going to revoke your bond.”
            “She’s my daughter!”
            “We know everything Michelle, we saw the police report,” Liv shouted as she put the cuffs on, “We know Anna Osborn died with your husband in that accident.”
            “Hey look who I found,” the brunette heard her partner yell out from behind her, she turned to see Elliot standing next to a squad car with their new favorite PI in the backseat.
            “You guys just can’t take a hint,” Liv scoffed walking up to the window.
            “There’s a piece of paper in my breast pocket. Read and weep.” The perp retorted.
            Elliot reached in through the window and removed the piece of paper. “It’s a lab order with the DNA sample from Patty’s hair that they snatched at the park. Patty Branson is Michelle Osborne’s biological daughter.”
            The brunette looked at Elliot in shock, not sure that she heard him correctly.
            “Patty and Anna are not the same child,” Melinda explained to the detectives when they got back to the precinct, “I ran another test, and they are definitely siblings but not identical. I saw that Anna was conceived through in vitro. The only way this incident could’ve happened is if both women underwent in vitro with the same doctor at the same time and I’m gonna need that doctors name.”
******
            Casey walked into the stationhouse with two large cups of coffee. She placed one down on the desk next to Elliot, “Hey, where’s our girl.”
            “Thanks Novak,” he mock-groaned in appreciation and took a sip. “I don’t care what Liv says, you’re alright.” He smirked. “She’s in the crib.”
            The redhead walked in quietly, she saw Liv’s eyes closed but knew by her breathing she wasn’t asleep.
            “Casey when I open my eyes you better either be naked or have a very large cup of coffee.”
            Casey laughed, “How did you know it was me? And how did you know I was alone?”
            The brunette smiled, her eyes still closed. “I can smell your perfume, and because I’m a cop.”
            The ADA walked over and sat on the edge of the cot. “Did you get any sleep baby?” She kissed her head and brushed her hair away from her face.
            “No,” Liv pried her eyes open. “I’m too wound up.” She sat up on the edge of the bed next to her girlfriend and leaned her head on her shoulder as Casey handed her the cup of coffee. “You’re the best.”
            “Oh yeah? That’s not what Stabler said you’ve been saying.” The redhead giggled.
            “Stabler’s a gossip queen.”
            Munch walked passed the doorway and stopped, “You two tired from all those late nights of bar hopping with your secret boyfriends?”
            Liv picked her head up, “Our what?”
            “Have you been talking to Elliot,” Casey asked him. Liv turned her head towards her girlfriend in confusion, who shook her head. “I’ll explain later.” she sighed.
            “No, Fin said both of you were dating someone and I just wanted to say that I’m a little hurt that I’ve never been asked to hang out with the cool kids. I did used to own a bar in Baltimore. I’m a pretty fun guy.”
            Casey tilted her head as Liv buried her face in the redhead’s shoulder to stifle her laughter, “You’re right John, next time we go out with our secret boyfriends we’ll make sure to invite you.”
            “Thank you, that’s all I ask.” Munch said in complete sincerity. “All the involved parties are here by the way. Time to get to it.”
******
Casey and Liv walked into the conference room where they sat Michelle and the Branson’s on opposite ends of the table. Liv sat down between them in an attempt to mediate with them.
“It’s come to our attention,” the detective spoke softly “that both of you conceived by way of invitro fertilization. We’re going to need you to tell us the names of the doctors you used.”
“Dr. Stanley Norton.” Mrs. Branson sniffled, choking back a small sob.
“He was my doctor too.” Michelle admitted and hung her head.
Michelle’s lawyer, Counselor Emmett, added, “Both girls born at the same hospital, within weeks of each other”
Casey paced across the room “Somehow, Sarah got Michelle’s embryos.”
“How could this happen” Mr. Branson asked, the look on his face showing he still felt like all of this was surreal.
“Dr. Warner said it could be as simple as a mislabeled petri dish.” Liv offered.
Both mothers exchanged heartbreaking looks as Michelle began to break down in tears. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry.”
Sarah Branson turned to Casey “is it possible to have the order of protection removed?”
Casey shrugged, “You can petition the judge if that’s what you want.” It was clear in her expression she didn’t agree but she wasn’t allowed to just blurt that out.
Michelle’s lawyer spoke up, “I’d like you to reconsider the attempted kidnapping charge.”
“Your client was ordered to stay away from Patty Branson, and she ignored that order. She broke the law. I have to take her to trial.” The redhead stated flatly. Liv jerked her head and looked at her in shock as if she couldn’t believe what she had just said.
Casey heard her girlfriend call to her as she left the conference room. “Casey, you gotta plead her out.” Liv emoted as she closed the conference room door behind her.
The ADA furrowed her brow, “Why would I do that?” She turned and gave the detective time to catch up.
“Because what happened was a mistake,” Liv argued.
“Michelle was uncontrollably driven to kidnap someone else’s little girl.” She continued walking down the hall, the detective walking along side.
“Her little girl biologically.” Liv’s tone escalated as she stopped at the corner of the hallway.
Casey turned on her heel, “but not legally,” she spoke lower trying to stay calm and show Liv she cared. “I can’t let Michelle off the hook just because you feel guilty you didn’t believe her.” She turned back and continued to walk.
The detective’s face dropped as she wasn’t used to going toe to toe with Casey over a case since that first day. She took a breath and then followed behind, “well then give her a break cause she’s also a victim.” Casey stopped at her door and turned to face Liv while leaning against it. Liv crossed her arms and continued, “What that fertility doctor did to those two women is genetic rape.” Casey cast her eyes to the side afraid she’d cry if she continued to confront her girlfriend. “And don’t tell me that that doesn’t bother you on some level.”
The redhead turned her head and stared into Liv’s eyes, her own starting to water. She wanted to clap back at the cheap shot, but she was already lost in her girlfriend’s charm. Her face softened.
“Talk to the doctor,” she looked down at Liv’s lips longing to kiss her, “confirm what Michelle and the Branson’s say, and I’ll consider a deal.” She stared at the brunette for a minute.
The Detective looked back at Casey’s lips just as hungrily and then nodded.
The redheaded started to head into her office but looked back as Liv was walking away. “Hey.”
The brunette spun around, “Hey.”
“I’ll see you for dinner later, okay?” She gave Liv the puppy dog eyes.
“You got it.” The detective smiled softly and then turned the corner.
******
Shortly after a visit to the good doctor’s office, the detectives were in Casey’s office giving her the run down. Michelle had insisted she never signed the form consenting to egg donation. The doctor was insisting she did and probably just didn’t remember because seven years ago is a long time to remember such a minute detail. Liv could feel it in her bones that the evidence was pointing towards fraud on the doctor’s part. She just needed some help from the DA’s office to prove it.
Both X’s look the same to me.” Casey examined the photocopied paper her girlfriend handed her.
The brunette looked at her determined, “It’s a legal document, forgery is a crime.”
            “You don’t know that doctor forged anything.” The redhead sat, leaning back in her chair. Her face contorted in contest.
Elliot chimed in to play devil’s advocate, “Look, maybe its buyer’s remorse. Michelle did consent to donate her embryos, and now she’s sorry she did?” He turned his eyes towards Liv.
“That doctor pulled that story out of his ass!” She came around him to stand between him and Casey, “Come on Elliot!” she scolded, “He was making it up as he was telling it to us!” She shook her head in disgust.
“So, you think he’s lying. Michelle Osborne hired private detectives to kidnap a child. Why do you believe her?” The ADA squinted, tilting her head.
“Because Michelle Osborn has never lied to us about anything. Patty is her biological daughter.” The volume of Liv’s voice started to escalate as she spoke passionately.
            Casey crinkled her nose G-d damn she’s so sexy when she gets herself all worked up. Pull it together Novak, cold thoughts, you still have a job to do.
Elliot piped up interrupting Casey’s mental undressing of Liv, “So let Michelle and the Branson’s sue Norton for malpractice,” he suggested bluntly.
Liv sighed, getting exhausted of trying to explain her point, “But if he intentionally put one woman’s eggs into another without consent, we can’t just let him get away with it.”
“There’s no law against that in New York State,” Casey tried to iterate that despite what they were all feeling for both defendants and victims, she still had to prosecute by the letter of the law. “And we can’t charge him with larceny because stolen property has to have value, and body parts don’t.” she said pointedly.
            The brunette argued back as the redhead let out an exasperated sigh knowing her girlfriend wasn’t going to let this go. “In vitro costs tens of thousands of dollars a pop. If Norton misrepresented what he did and put that X on this form, then we have him on fraud and forgery. If he did it once before, you can bet that he’s done the same thing to other women.” Her jaw was starting to get tight.
            Casey looked up at her girlfriend, she knew when Olivia had a gut feeling like this, she was usually on to something, and she definitely wasn’t letting it go. She pulled Liv down onto her lap and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Okay,” she kissed her shoulder. She had no qualms about Elliot being in the room, she knew he was a safe person for them. “Now all we have to do is prove it.” 
            “Right,” Liv turned her head, to look at Casey, her body still facing Elliot. Casey’s touch brought her back down to a calmer state. “This consent form is a copy; you get us a warrant for the real one and we will.”
            The ADA smirked, “You know you’re very sexy when you have your investigation pants on.” She leaned her forehead against the brunette’s, rubbing her nose against her girlfriend’s.
            “Oh yeah, that working for you?” She nuzzled back.
            “Mhmm,” Casey blushed and bit her lip.
            Elliot cleared his throat loudly, “Still here ladies.”
            The two moved their faces away from each other and turned back towards him, “Ahem, sorry.” Casey nodded trying to put her serious voice on.
******
Norton scoffed as he sat in interrogation “I did nothing wrong.”
Kessler waved his hand towards his client “Say nothing else Stanley. My client made an error in judgement.”
“That’s an understatement,” Casey’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as Liv paced behind her.
“Michelle Osborne gave my client verbal permission to donate her embryos seven years ago. Dr Norton wrote the “X” on the form because he thought it would help her remember.” The litigator retorted, an ever-present smug tone in his voice.
The brunette detective was getting worked up “Oh she remembers alright; she remembers that she never consented.” She barked.
Kessler laughed incredulously, “And you believe her, after she tried to have a little girl kidnapped?”
Casey looked at him with a know-it-all grin, “Because of what Dr. Norton did to her, so we’re dropping those charges.” 
“Still her word against my client’s”
“And his employees.” The redhead countered, “We have signed, sworn statements that you routinely implant one woman’s genetic material into another.”
Doctor Norton looked Casey square in the eye and straightened his cufflinks. “All I’ve ever done is help infertile couples have children.”
Olivia curled her lip, glaring with abhorrence at the doctor. “All you’ve ever done is pad your bank account” she leaned over the table towards him.
Casey looked directly at the Doctors attorney, “You can be sure we’ll find out how many other women he’s victimized.”
Kessler scoffed, closing his briefcase. “How? You can’t subpoena privileged patient records.”
The ADA grinned, “Unless,” she placed the pads of her fingers down on the desk pointedly, “there’s evidence of an ongoing criminal conspiracy. That forged “x” on the consent form is all the ammunition I need to go before a judge.”
******
Casey was beaming, “We scored a clean sweep.” She said proudly walking into the squad room. Her eyes locked on Liv.
            “Oh yeah what’d we get?” The brunette joked as she fixed her coffee.
“Warrants and subpoenas for all of Dr. Norton’s in vitro patients, plus all surgical and cryopreservation logs.” The redhead smiled, dropping some files on the desk, and facing Liv and Elliott.
“Cryo what?” Stabler asked as if Casey was speaking a foreign language.
Casey chuckled, “Where egg, sperm, and embryos are frozen and stored,” she schooled him.
“Any of this make an impression on Dr Norton?” He grabbed one of the files Casey dropped off and thumbed through it.
“Nope guy still thinks he did a favor for the Branson’s.” The counselor sat down on the edge of Liv’s desk placing her hands on her knee, “Anyway, Sarah’s medical records have a notation that none of her eggs fertilized.” She discretely caressed her girlfriend's knee with her thumb. The brunette felt it between her legs.
“So, Norton just slipped her one of Michelle’s.” Elliot shrugged.
Casey nodded, mindless tracing little circles on Liv’s knee, just brushing against the start of her thigh.
Liv popped up off the desk as the redhead’s followed her, “Okay so we get him on a couple of counts of fraud, he loses his license and does some time.” It was taking all of her willpower not so slam herself up against Casey right there in the squad room. The way the ADA’s eyes glistened as she smoothly negotiated subpoenas and plea deals just did something for Liv that she never expected.
“Yeah, and all thanks to the persistence of a beautiful brunette detective from the one six.” Casey bit her lip, subtly linking the tips of her fingers with Liv’s. “Damn I need to get you home.”
Liv blushed; desire written all over her face.
Cragen walked up next to them with a distraught look on his face, “Two-two just called. They’re mobilized.”
“For What?” the brunette looked at him confused.
The captain put his hands in his pockets, “Patty.”
******
            Thankfully with the quick work of the SVU detectives they were able to find Patty pretty quickly with a sweep of Michelle Osborn’s house for some semblance of clues. The time and place on the back of a family photo indicated a beach house that Michelle owned. The detectives swiftly mobilized there to find Michelle and Patty. Liv was heartbroken when she learned that Michelle misled Patty by saying her parents didn’t want her. 
*****
“You have to do something, babe.” Olivia took a sip of her wine leaning over the island at Casey’s.
            The redhead scoffed, “I thought you wanted me to plead her out? I can’t keep changing course based on your emotions.” She stared at Liv in disbelief.
            The brunette sighed and placed her glass down, “I know what I said earlier but Michelle is terrorizing this little girl. Patty Branson is a distraught six-year-old who doesn’t understand why this woman is trying to rip her away from her family and I feel for Michelle but she’s making it so much worse.”
            The ADA took her hand across the counter and ran the pad of her thumb across it, “You know that your huge heart is one of the things I find most attractive about you, right? I just have to make sure I don’t get my ass chewed out by Branch for letting that beautiful heart cloud my judgement.” She brought her girlfriends hand up to her lips and kissed across the detective’s knuckles. She glanced up at Liv, cocking her eyebrow, “is this helping make up for the fact that we argued earlier?”
            “Casey,” Olivia sighed.
            The redhead frowned, “Hey I’m sorry, I was just trying to do my job.”
            Olivia smiled and held Casey’s hand between her own, “No that’s not what I was getting at.” she chuckled. “What I was going to say,” she rubbed her girlfriend's hand soothingly, “is we’re not always going to agree on work. We may even shout out each other from time to time, but I promise never to go to bed angry at you as long as you’ll have me.”
She stood up and leaned in to delicately kiss the ADA, “and I promise to always have dinner waiting for you, even if its leftovers in the microwave.”
The redhead giggled into the kiss and draped her arms around Liv’s neck. “And I will always be grateful for that, Detective.” Liv stood up straight pulling Casey out of her chair and grabbing her legs, wrapping them around her waist, and placing her on the counter. The brunette started nibbling and kissing down her lover's jaw and then her neck. “Mmm,” the redhead sighed, “you are so wonderful.” She ran her hands through Liv’s hair.
The detective chuckled, “Mmm, I’ll remember that next time we fight.” Casey laughed and pressed her palm against the brunette’s cheek, nipping at her lower lip and then kissing her. Liv raised her eyebrow and flashed a grin, “thanks for making this easy for me.” She ran her fingers up Casey’s bare thighs and up under the skirt she was wearing. She pushed it up and pulled the redhead to the edge of the counter, sliding her hand up the attorney’s inner thigh. She gasped as she made her way to Casey’s center, she leaned in to kiss her neck. “Assistant District Attorney Casey Novak, have you not been wearing any underwear all day?” 
The redhead smiled deviously, her hand on the back of Liv’s head holding her to her neck, “Mmmm, well, Detective, if we hadn’t argued, I had planned on pulling you into the bathroom of the courthouse, or my office, or the backseat of a taxi.” She giggled.
“Babe!” Liv looked at the younger woman in shock. “Getting adventurous?”
“Mmm maybe a little bit. It’s hard to control myself around you. Do you know how many times when you’re getting heated about a case, I just want to bend you over your own desk?”
The brunette pulled back and looked Casey in the eyes, her own glossed over, pupils dilated. “I really do that much to you?”
The redhead bit her lip and then nodded. “You, Olivia Benson, make me crazy.”
Liv took this opportunity to slide her middle finger into Casey’s heat causing her breath to hitch.
“Fuck.” The ADA exhaled. She spread her legs slightly allowing her girlfriend more access, who then slipped another finger in. Casey gasped again, “Liv.”
The detective toyed with her lover, slowly playing with her arousal, watching Casey whimper with each movement. “Feels good, Daddy?”
Casey let out a moan, “Ohhhh, feels really good baby.”
Liv pushed the redhead’s skirt up further and laid her back across the counter. She brought her mouth down to Casey’s heat, lapping up everything she’d already spilled from her lover, and then brought her tongue up to her clit. When she did this, Casey’s head shot up as heavy sighs fell from her lips. The ADA tangling her fingers in Liv’s hair pulling her tighter to her body. “Hey baby I need you to do me a favor,” the brunette whispered, “can you spell my name for me?” She kissed down on her clit, a few quick swipes of the tongue.
Casey was panting hard, but what Liv asked of her caught her off guard. “What?”
Liv kissed her clit again and continued to do so between each word. “Spell. My. Name. Please. Humor me Casey.”
The redhead quirked her brow, still confused about why they were having a strange conversation right this minute. She decided to oblige. “O—”
As she did Liv pressed down on her girlfriend's clit, tracing the letter “O” across it with the tip of her tongue.
“Mmmm,” Casey inhaled sharply as she caught on. “L—” she whispered. “I—” she was whimpering and panting softly trying hard to concentrate “V—.” “I—oh god baby I, I’m gonna.” Her breathing was getting shallow, “A—” she could barely keep still, she was almost there, she tangled her fingers tighter in her lover's hair pulling her closer as she started over. “O—” that was all it took, “Oh, Oh, Ohhhh!” Casey let go, an orgasm surging through her body, coming hard as Liv lapped it up, humming and moaning with delight.
“Mmm, Casey do you know how fucking good you taste?” The brunette wiped the corners of her mouth and licked her fingers.
Casey sat up trying to catch her breath. “Detective if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying keep me around for a while,” she chuckled.
“Mmm maybe just for a little while,” Liv grinned as she kissed the redhead sultrily.
“That’s it, you’re in for it. Bedroom, now.” She hopped down off the counter and took the brunette by the hand leading her to the bed, pushing her back onto the mattress. Casey was in nothing but her bra before Liv could blink. She straddled the brunette and unbuckled Liv’s belt. “Wanna see a new trick I learned?” She bit her lip, smiling mischievously.
Liv looked at her lover surprised, “You have tricks I don’t know yet Counselor?”
The redhead giggled, “I got bored in my office the other day.” She pulled Liv’s belt off her pants and began to loop it around itself a few times and then held out a hand reaching for Liv’s. Liv furrowed her brow but cautiously gave the ADA her hands. Casey slipped the belt over the detective's hands and then pulled the end of the strap tight with her teeth.
“Is, is that okay?” Casey asked to check in, making sure Liv was good with what she was doing since it was new for them.
“Oh, that was,” Liv gasped with surprise, “impressive.” If she wasn’t soaked in arousal before she was now.
“You like that?” Casey asked with her eyebrow raised and her troublemaker grin. She brought Liv’s arms over her head and hooked the belt to the headboard. “Don’t move,” she scolded and brought her mouth down to her girlfriend's ear. “Be a good girl for Daddy.” She whispered and bit down into the side of the brunette’s neck.
“Oh, Casey,” Liv mewled, “Oh, baby mmm” She wanted to feel Casey’s skin, dig her nails into her back. Each struggle against her restraints made her throb, the leather rubbing against her wrists driving her wild.
The ADA was taking her time, sucking deep bruises into her lover’s neck. “Keep still baby,” she cooed, “I’m just getting started.” After she finished marking up Liv’s neck, she turned her attention downward. She unbuttoned Liv’s shirt one button at a time and threw it open, bringing her mouth down to tease the brunette’s nipples. She pulled each one into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around it and grazing it softly with her teeth, letting them go with a pop. She continued to roll and pinch them between her fingers as she kissed down the detective’s stomach.
“Fuck Casey,” Liv’s soft pants made the redhead simper. She tried to wriggle against the restraints again causing her to moan loudly. “Don’t tease.”
“Detective, you better stop resisting.” Casey joked as she shimmied her girlfriend’s pants down and then tossed them to the floor and then settled between her legs. “Mmm, baby you are so fucking wet. It might take me hours to clean all this up.” She taunted as she ran her tongue through the brunette’s folds. “Olivia,” the ADA whimpered, “G-d you taste so amazing.” She plunged her tongue into Liv’s core, gently fucking her, moaning as Liv’s nectars dripped down her chin.
“Oh Fuck!” the brunette cried out, pulling against her cuffs, her hips bucking towards the redhead's face.
Casey pulled her tighter, the tip of her tongue brushing against Liv’s g-spot driving her wild. She moaned against the brunette’s center, sending vibrations up her body.
“Mmmm Casey,” Liv whined, “Mmm Daddy, don’t stop.” her breath ragged. “Oh G-d, Oh G-d.” Her eyes rolled back as she pulled against the restraints, her body tightened as her walls contracted and she came on Casey’s tongue.
The ADA moaned loudly into Liv as she felt her let go, her mouth filling with her girlfriend's sweet juices. She pumped her tongue slowly as the brunette came down and then licked her clean. She ran her tongue across her lips as she looked up at her girlfriend smiling, kissing her thighs, and resting her head against one for a moment. The redhead brought herself back up and kissed Liv, sliding her tongue into her mouth, savoring the moment, and holding her thumb and fingers to the brunette's chin.
“You are such a good, good girl.” Casey kissed her again lightly and nibbled down her neck as she undid the restraints. She kissed Liv’s wrists and then laid against her as Liv wrapped her arms around the attorney.
“God, you are so fucking sexy.” Liv kissed Casey on her temple and then traced soft circles across her smooth skin.
******
Casey headed down to the jail to confront Michelle Osborne about her most recent kidnapping attempt.
“You can’t kidnap your own daughter.” Hissed as she was led towards the interrogation cell by one of the Riker’s guards. Struggling to turn her head to look Casey in the eyes.
 “The law says she isn’t yours.” The redhead argued, her patience with Michelle had long run out.
“Well, the law is wrong.” Michelle sat down on the bench in the cell, as everyone filed in and followed suit.
Emmett tossed her briefcase on to the table, “We should just forget about the law and focus on what’s right.”
Casey couldn’t help but laugh, “What’s right is for your client to accept that she has no claim to patty. You’re a victim Michelle we can take that into consideration.”
“How much consideration?” her lawyer queried.
“We’re still willing to make an offer, Michelle will have to serve three to five and get counseling.” The redhead stated, staring blankly waiting for a response.
“No thank you.” Michelle shook her head in protest.
“If you go to trial and get convicted. You’re looking at fifteen years in prison.” Casey was in disbelief.
“I’ll be acquitted, then I’ll sue for custody.” Michelle stated haughtily.
“Are you kidding me?” the ADA turned to the counselor, “This isn’t your idea, is it? It’ll never work.”
“I have to try.” The defendant whispered with determination.
“You can’t!” Michelle turned to see this exclaim come from Sarah Branson who was standing a few feet away from the cell with Olivia in tow.
Casey stood up in shock and looked towards Sarah Branson who had just walked in, and then to Olivia who had clearly brought her. “Why did you bring her here?”
Liv looked at Casey reassuringly, “Because she wanted to come.”
Sarah Branson was sobbing “I know you lost your daughter, but can’t you see what you’re doing to Patty? Please, a mother wouldn’t do this to any child.” She pleaded with tears in her eyes.
******
“Look I’m not mad babe, I’m just saying a little heads up with you were bringing her to the jail would’ve been nice.” Casey said as the two women stepped on the train. They both reached for the center pole, opting to stand. Liv wrapped her arm around the redhead’s waist holding her tight to her as the train started.
“You’re right Case, I’m sorry.” Liv frowned, “I promise to work on communicating.”
“Just pretend we’re in bed, you communicate great there.” Casey teased, smirking, eyeing her girlfriend up and down until she realized an old man glaring at her from one of the nearby seats. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat.
The brunette giggled. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
The got off at their stop and walked down off the platform, “Coffee?” Liv grabbed the ADAs hand and laced their fingers together. The redhead blushed a little, the feeling that Liv wasn’t afraid to be seen with her filling her with butterflies.
“Maybe on the way back?” Casey mused, “I just want to be able to think straight again.” She shook her head realizing her phrasing, “I mean, I need to concentrate.”
Liv reached around the redhead to ring the doorbell of the Stabler house. The door opened and the two women were greeted by a very confused Kathy Stabler.
“Liv! Hi. and—” she scrunched up her face trying to figure out who Casey was and what she and Oliva were doing there. She looked familiar but they had never been properly introduced.
“Oh, hey Kathy, it’s nice to meet you, I’m the SVU ADA Casey Novak.” She let go of Liv’s hand to extend it to the blonde in the doorway.
Kathy’s eyes followed her hand and shook it, still looking puzzled until she glanced at Liv and then back at Casey and it clicked. “Oh, OH right hi! Genuinely nice to meet you! You need to talk to Elliot? He’s at the park with the twins. It’s three blocks that way and two blocks right.” she pointed down the street.
“Not me, just Casey here.” The brunette stated and placed her hand on the small of her girlfriend’s back.
“Ah well in that case, Liv why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee.” Kathy motioned towards herself. “Seems like we have some catching up to do.”
The detective glanced at her lover, “You gonna be okay on your own?”
“Yeah babe, stay, have coffee. I think we all know I can handle Elliot.” She chuckled nervously. She gave Liv a quick kiss and headed off down the block.
Liv and Kathy moved to the kitchen as Elliot’s wife poured them both a cup of coffee. “So,” Kathy looked at Liv, “I’m guessing that’s my husband’s new softball friend and the reason you’re wearing a turtleneck?”
The brunette snorted into her coffee and her face went flush. “Yeah, that’s Casey. She’s the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”
“I’ve gotta say I’ve never seen you so— open, with anyone before. It’s refreshing. Do you love her?” the blonde asked sitting down at the table.
Liv followed suit and took a sip of her coffee, “I want to. I just don’t know if I’m ready to say it yet.”
“Boy, you and Elliot really are two sides of the same coin,” Kathy laughed, “took him forever to say it, even though now he’ll admit he always knew. You know, I used to worry about you two. He’d confide in my why I didn’t need to and how he was the only one who knew about it so of course I just thought it was an excuse” she rambled as she took another sip, “but,” she paused. “I’ve never seen you look at my husband the way you looked at her on my porch.”
*****
“Hey Dad, who’s that lady staring at us?” Lizzie asked as Elliot picked up the basketball, trying to explain to Dickie why hogging the ball would end up hurting his game eventually.
Casey was leaned up against the chain link fence at the park entrance. Her thumbs hooked through the belt loops on her jeans.
“Afternoon” Elliot smiled, confused.
“Yeah, your wife said I could find you here.” The redhead smiled.
“Dickie, Elizabeth, this is Ms. Novak. We work together.” He tussled his children’s hair and introduced them to his friend.
“You guys look like a couple of pros out there,” she approached the detective and the twins on the blacktop.
“Yeah, so go practice, and no hogging the ball.” He tossed them the ball as he and Casey stepped off to the side, “Let me guess, you just happened to find yourself on the ass end of Queens?”
“Michelle Osborne trial prep. I need a reality check.” She nodded, looking for some time of reassurance.
“Okay for what? Wait, Kathy told you I was here? You got Kathy to tell you a female she’s never met, my location?”
She shot him a look of c’mon Elliot, I radiate non-threatening LGBT energy.
A light bulb went off in his head, “You brought Liv, didn’t you? And she’s uhm.” He motioned his finger up and down his neck.
“See I knew you’d get there.” She crinkled her nose teasingly.
“Okay so about what?” Elliot asked jumping back to the original topic.
“There’s no way to win it.” The redhead stated, hoping Elliot would either bluntly tell her she was right or help her find a work around.
“You got her cold on the evidence.” Stabler shrugged as he headed towards the fence.
Casey shook her head, “Defense has already won the jury. Once they hear about what happened to Michelle, no one’s gonna care about evidence.”
“Are you worried about losing this case?” Elliot bent down by the fence to pick up his towel. “Or are you having second thoughts.”
The ADA stopped, turning to face him. “I don’t think the law can do anyone justice in this case.”
Elliot mopped his brow, “Are you just figuring that out now?” He sat down with his back against the fence.
“Michelle gets convicted; she goes to prison.” She tried to work out the conundrum out loud, “If Michelle gets acquitted, she’ll never let go of Patty and there will be no end to this.” Her voice got somber, “Either way, somebody loses.”
“Right.” Elliot looked up at her, his voice softer than usual, “What’s the question?”
Casey thought hard, finding it hard to articulate what she was thinking. She chewed on her lip, sighed, and sat down on the ground next to him. “If you found out you had another kid out there, would you want it?” She asked Elliot with genuine curiosity.
“Damn right I would.” The detective nodded.
“So, you know why she’s obsessed.”
“It’s not an obsession,” he shook his head, “it’s a love. It’s a connection that transcends everything and anything.”
Casey studied his face, now she realized how he could be so gruff but also so good with children. He was a good father, a good man. She smiled, thankful for his friendship as she continued to listen.
“I would die for my children and nothin’ in this world that would ever change that. Ever.” Elliot beamed with pride as he spoke.
The young ADA furrowed her brow in concern, “So Michelle and Sarah will never stop fighting over Patty.” She smiled but it was a sullen smile, full of sadness.
Elliot looked down thoughtfully, took a breath and began to recite from the bible, “And King Solomon said, “Bring me a sword. Divide the living child in two. Give half to one and half to the other.”
“Except I can’t split the baby.” The redhead said, her voice low, melancholy.
Stabler grinned, imparting a small modicum of wisdom on his friend, “Solomon didn’t have to.”
Casey looked at him puzzled and then it clicked, she grinned. “Thanks Elliot, I’m gonna go get Liv and make sure she hasn’t told your wife anything embarrassing about me yet.” She blushed and headed back down the street. Elliot took a sip of water and waved her off and then headed back to the twins.
*****
The redhead stood in front of her dresser, taking her watch off and placing it in her jewelry box, “I don’t think I can do this.” She sighed.
Liv could hear the stress in her voice, “What do you mean, honey? I thought you and Elliot came up with a plan. He had “sage advice” you said, which I gotta say I wouldn’t expect someone to say about Elliot as much as I love him.”
Casey gave her a look, “Normally I would agree with you but in this case he was right. However, that also means I essentially have to bully a child on the witness stand. Sure, it’s for the greater good, but hasn’t she been through enough? I mean people already think I’m a bitch, I’m going to look exceptionally cruel tomorrow.”
“Hey,” Liv ran her hands down her girlfriend's arms and took her by the hands. “you’re doing what’s best for that little girl. She’ll understand one day and anyone worth their smarts will see what you’re doing. You’re going to be brilliant; you always are.” She tugged Casey closer and kissed her, “Come to bed baby, you need to rest.”
The redhead threw on one of Liv’s old PD shirts and some sleep shorts. “I hate this,” she mumbled as she turned down her side of the bed. “I feel sick.” She rubbed the moisturizer on the nightstand onto her hands and neck before climbing into bed.
Liv held out her arm for Casey to cuddle up against her, who happily snuggled in, “What if I wanted to hold you tonight?” she joked.
“Tough, come here.” The brunette kissed her girlfriends head and held her close. She ran her fingertips slowly up and down Casey’s arm and closed her eyes.
Casey couldn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling fan for hours, her only comfort was the sound of Liv’s heartbeat and the rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully. She had no idea how she was going to make it through tomorrow. Before she knew it there was daylight peeking through the window.
*******
Casey looked down at the little girl in the witness box, “Patty do you see the person who took you from the museum?
“Yes” the small child pointed to Michelle, “she’s over there.”
The ADA turned to the court stenographer, “Let the record show that she’s indicated defendant Michelle Osborne.” She turned back towards Patty, “So why did you go with her, Patty?”
“She said she had to take me to my mommy.” The child fidgeted with her hands.
“Where did she take you?” The redhead asked flatly trying to keep her tone easy for Patty to understand.
 “To her house. Mommy wasn’t there.” Patty said sadly.
Casey turned back towards Michelle, “Did you ask her where Mommy was?”
“Yes Michelle said she’s my real mommy. My egg mommy.” The little girl was physically upset.
“Did she tell you what that means?” The ADA continued her questioning even though she could feel the knot building in her stomach.
 “She said I came out of mommy’s tummy but the egg that I came from came from her tummy.” Even though Patty was distraught it was still clear she was extremely intelligent for a six-year-old.
Casey stammered silently for a moment trying to prepare herself for what she needed to do. Her insides were twisted, she wished she had a moment to glance at Liv. She knew if she could just see her, she’d feel better and know she was doing the right thing. “What did you do while at Michelles house, Patty?
Patty shrugged, “Watched TV, played with toys.”
“Do you think Michelle is nice?” The counselor inquired.
Patty shrugged again, “She’s okay.”
The redhead leaned down to get eye level, “You know what Michelle said about being your egg mommy is true right?” Casey took a deep breath, “Your Honor?”
Judge Bradley looked at the small child sympathetically, “Please answer the question, Patty.”
“No! It’s not true.” The little girl began to sob.
“Yes, it is Patty.” Casey’s voice had now become stern, confrontational. Come on Novak, don’t lose it, DO NOT throw up.
“Michelle’s not my mommy!” Patty sobbed, sweet innocent tears, breaking Casey’s heart.
 “You came from her egg, that is true.” The ADA corrected, almost fussing.
Michelle looked towards Sarah Branson, tears welling in her eyes.
“I want to go now.” Patty cried, big tears rolling down her face.
 “No, you can’t until we’re finished!” Casey scolded. She needed this to be over before she tossed her cookies. Sarah Branson began weeping from the gallery.
“I don’t want to go with Michelle.” The little girl continued to sob.
Emmet slammed her hand on the defense table. “Your honor she’s just a little girl!”
“Is this line of questioning really necessary?” Judge Bradley empathized.
“Patty, do you understand?” Casey pushed, she hated herself for this.
Patty was in hysterics at this point, “I don’t want to go with Michelle!”
“You don’t have to Patty—Not yet.” The redhead’s volume was elevated, her voice echoing throughout the courtroom.
“I want my mommy and daddy!” Patty shouted.
“No, you have to stay here!” The ADA remained stern.
Patty turned towards Michelle, “Please! Don’t take me away, please!”
Michelle stood up and shouted, “Stop! Just stop it.”
“Sit down!” The judge ordered Michelle.
“Patty I’m sorry,” Michelle wept, struggling to get words out, “I won’t ever bother you again.”
Patty ran to her parents, Casey stayed facing the witness stand breathing a silent sigh of relief that her and Elliot’s plan worked.
Michelle pleaded with the judge, “Ill please guilty if that’s what it takes. Just leave Patty alone.”
Casey closed her eyes, trying not to let the emotion leak out of her face till she got out of the courtroom. As soon as everyone one was adjourned the ADA made a dash for the bathroom. The room was spinning but she tried to splash some water on her face and take some deep breaths. She heard the door creak open, but she couldn’t even look up from the sink to see it was Liv. The brunette rushed and grabbed her from the side, she turned into her.
“Hey, hey baby I got you. It’s okay, you did great. Patty gets to go home with her parents. You did it babe. Shhh, shhh” Liv cooed softly trying to calm Casey down who was actively hyperventilating. “Hey Case, Case listen, match my breathing. Deep breaths.”
The redhead did her best to time her breathing to match Olivia’s until she was calm again. She squeezed herself tight against Liv. “Thank you for being here.”
“I’ll be here for you whenever you need me.” The detective held Casey’s head tight against her chest.
“Well then you’ll just have to always be here.” The ADA chuckled.
They walked to the squad room, Casey putting her briefcase down and handing a file to Elliot. “Michelle plead out to custodial interference. Her sentence was set aside, and she said she was going to move out of state because it was too hard to be around Patty.”
Elliot gave Casey a half smile and a knowing nod, “She did the right thing, loving her enough to let her go. I knew you’d figure it out.”
            Casey nudged Elliot.
            Cragen shook his head, “The damage is already done. That little girl's relationship with her parents will never be the same now that everyone knows the truth.”
            Casey sighed in agreement, “Law has to catch up with technology. When Patty’s 18 she has the right to make her own choice on whether or not she wants to contact Michelle, like in an open adoption.”
            Liv came around to meet everyone, “I finished the audit on Dr Norton’s clinic, turns out Michelle had sixteen embryos, ten of which were implanted in other women.”
            “How many live births?” Elliot asked quietly.
            “Besides Patty, Michelle has two daughters and a son out there.”
            Casey hung her head, they may have put a band aid over this, but it was far from solved. She stretched her neck to the side, Liv was quiet.
            Casey walked up and leaned against her side, looping her arm through her girlfriends, while the squad knew they still had to be careful about holding hands at the precinct. “Hey, what do you say we get a big bottle of wine and go back to my place. It’s been a day.”
Liv looked up “That sounds perfect.”
They started for the exit, “I still owe you that massage.” Casey smirked.
“You can give it to me while your body’s wrapped around me in that big bathtub you’re always bragging about.” Liv lightly hip checked her girlfriend.
Cragen looked at Elliot, “Do…do they think we can’t hear them?” he raised his brows.
“Captain, I think,” he paused, “when those two look at each other, they forget we exist.” Stabler folded his arms as he and Cragen watched them walk out the door.
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