#THIRST PREVENTS DEHYDRATION | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roseghoul26 · 7 months ago

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Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After being captured by The Ghoul, he had dragged you through the hot desert of the Wasteland. You were so thirsty, and you’d do anything for a drink of water. And you meant anything. Tags: Smut, Practically No Plot, Humiliation, Begging, Spit, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Thigh Riding, Biting, Hate Sex(?), maybe OOC The Ghoul but I think I got it right, Not Beta Read, there's still consent because i can’t write severe noncon Author's Note: i had so many “why am i writing this” moments yet i still finished it i’m so sorry.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this thirsty in your life.

Scratch that, you don’t think anyone’s ever been as thirsty as you currently are.

Even though you had no saliva left to swallow, you tried anyway, your throat feeling like sandpaper. It caused you to cough, earning a disgruntled noise from the ghoul currently holding you hostage.

The Ghoul. Infamous bounty hunter and the cruelest person you’d ever met. Of course, you only found out who he was after he captured you. You’d never even heard of a ghoul until a few days ago, your sheltered life in Vault 14 withholding information about the surface to you.

You wished you were back home, suffocating as it was. At home, you wouldn’t be forced to walk countless miles under the boiling Wasteland sun. At home, you wouldn’t have a lasso around your neck, preventing you from running off. And even if you did manage to somehow escape the rope confines, you’d seen how accurate of a shot he was. He’d kill you before you managed to keep a foot away from him.

You glanced back at him, The Ghoul, who had his sawed-off shotgun casually trained on you. He seemed unaffected by the heat, by the sun beating down on your faces. His hat made sure of that, and you supposed that you didn’t have to worry about sunburn if all your exposed skin was melted by radiation.

It had been hard, looking at him at first. After spending your entire life surrounded by “normal” humans, it was a shock seeing him for the first time. You’d seen burn scars before, sure, but never this severe, every inch of him covered in them. Of course, that wasn’t the most off-putting part. That had to be the complete lack of nose, an empty socket where the cartilaginous appendage should be.

It unsettled you deeply, but you found that you couldn’t stop looking at him, a sick part of your brain enjoying it. You didn’t dare delve into that part of your mind right now, though, your current circumstance is significantly more important.

He had stopped you in Filly, and after a brief discussion had decided that he was taking you with wherever he was going. You had no say in the decision, and even when you fought and kicked and screamed he still managed to get you bound. A few people tried to help, not because they cared about you, but because they had also wanted to get their hands on a “Vaultie”. Apparently, you were worth something to them up here, a commodity of sorts. It made your skin crawl. You’d gotten firsthand experience, then, of how good of a shot The Ghoul was.

How you longed to be back in the stuffy Vault, working as a teacher to those kids. As annoying as they were, at least they weren’t currently threatening your life, or making you walk to who the hell knows. You’d take that over this any day. Hell, you’d take latrine duty with overflowing toilets every single hour over this.

You fixed your attention back in front of you, the endless stretch of sandy dunes in front of you broken up by partially destroyed houses and skeletons of buildings. Your feet were in incredible amounts of pain, every step feeling like you had fifty pounds of bricks attached to your ankles. And that thirst, never ending, overwhelming thirst you felt nagged at you, consuming every thought of yours. You’d take anything to drink now, even that definitely radiated puddle you’d passed hours ago. Or was it minutes? You couldn’t tell.

You knew dehydration had long since started affecting you. You were no longer able to form sweat, and you were certain that your body was slowly cooking from the inside. You were almost certain it would be a better fate than whatever The Ghoul was leading you towards.

You hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until you felt a sharp tug at your throat, nearly toppling you on your ass. You heard him chuckle as you steadied yourself, and you shot him a glare. Even faced with death, you weren’t going to let yourself be treated like this. “We’re stopin’ here,” he gestured to a dilapidated building to his right.

You had been surprised when he spoke the first time, not expecting a southern drawl. You’d never heard an accent like his before, only ever hearing them on the Holotapes your Vault would play for movie night. You’d also believed them to be fake, or to have died out with the rest of humanity. You had to admit, the one good thing to come out of this whole experience was hearing his voice.

Momentarily confused as to why you were stopping, your eyes focused, and you realized that the sun was half set. You’d learned rather quickly that it was suicidal and stupid to travel across the Wasteland at night, after an almost perilous encountered with what you assumed to once be a bear. You’d barely escaped with your life, climbing a tree until the creature grew disinterested and found new prey.

You almost wished it had torn you apart then.

Apparently you were taking too long, and you felt another tug at the rope, pulling you closer to him. “Ain’t got all day, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The name was anything but sweet, saying it with so much condescension that it made you flush angrily. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Grumbling something under your breath, you stormed past him, another low chuckle leaving him. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from that mouth on ya,” he threatened, waving the gun at you in a go on motion.

The shifting sand nearly caused you to stumble as you ducked into the house through a window, and your eyes struggled to adjust to the low lighting. Holding your breath, you listened for anything else in the house besides the two of you, and when you were met with only your heartbeat, you continued further in.

Entering what used to be the living room, you saw a large couch, still in relatively decent condition, and luckily free of decomposed bodies. Any wood furniture, however, had already decayed, leaving only fragments where they once stood. You realized that if you were to sit on the couch, it would probably crumble under the weight.

The Ghoul entered behind you, and you made your way down the hallway, checking each room for anyone or anything that could do you harm. The first room was a bathroom, sand filling the bathtub like it was water. Out of desperation you almost tried to turn the handles on the sink, lift the seat of the toilet, do anything for a drop of water. But you refrained, not willing to stoop to that level yet. But you could feel that you were close.

The next room was a large master bedroom, completely destroyed from when the bombs fell. Sand covered everything, and the walls had practically caved in, leaving you exposed to the outside. There was no where you would stay there willingly tonight.

The third and final room was also completely devoid of life, but the empty crib in the middle of the room had you gasping, and you heard the click of a gun behind you as The Ghoul prepared for anything. You quickly shut the door. “Nothing, sorry,” you managed to croak out, and you heard him scoff.

However, you saw that he did manage to catch a glimpse of the room before you closed the door, and in those still human eyes you saw something flash through them. Sadness? Longing? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but you sure as hell weren’t about to ask him about it.

Living room it is, then. Heading back to the original room, you watch The Ghoul sit on the couch, right in the center of it. It held, surprisingly, but you could hear the wood groan in warning. Spreading his legs, you watched him tilt his head back, a content sigh leaving his mouth.

If you had the energy to blush, you would’ve as you watched him, finding yourself having to look away. Maybe dehydration was messing with your brain, the way you thought that was attractive. What the hell was wrong with you, you thought.

Thirst quickly chased those thoughts away, and you attempted to lick your dry lips, your tongue mostly sticking to them instead. You were about to go explore the bathroom until you remembered the rope around your neck.

Like he could read your thoughts, you watched him regard the lasso in his gloved hand. “You gonna run off on me if I take this off, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, excited to have the irritating rope no longer chafing your neck. “You’ll kill me before I could,” you responded, voice barely a whisper.

The Ghoul barked out a laugh. “Damn right I will.” He considered your response for a moment, and you fully believed that he was going to keep it there. That was until he stood, almost inhumanly fast, approaching you with long strides.

Holding your breath, you felt his tug the rope off your neck, those eerily human eyes never leaving yours as he did. You flinched when you felt one of his leather-clad fingers brush over the irritated skin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, mostly because of fear, but also for another reason that you refused to name.

With a satisfactory smirk, he looped the lasso back onto his belt. You quickly exhaled when he stepped away, eliciting a coughing fit, which was dry and only irritated your throat more. Fuck, you were so thirsty.

The Ghoul sat back on the couch in that same lounging position, and you debated sitting on the floor in front of him, but you feared that if you rested now then you’d never get back up. You watched him set a lantern on the ground, the weak oil based contraption the only source of light in the entire room. You didn’t ask why he didn’t start a fire; you also learned to not do that early on too.

So you remained standing, even though your feet screamed for relief. You ignored them, shifting to try and alleviate the pain slightly. Rubbing your neck, you could feel that he hadn't once taken his eyes off of you, and it was making you increasingly unnerved. “You gonna stand there all night?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.” You tried to sound defiant, but it came out more like an airy noise.

“Suit yourself, then.” He rolled his eyes, making a show of getting comfortable on the couch. “It’ll be a long night for you, that’s for sure.”

Swaying, you leaned your back against one of the barely-standing walls, screwing your eyes shut. You occupied your thoughts with memories of home, trying desperately to ignore the pain. You were mostly successful, that was until you heard the sound of a canister being opened.

Curious, you opened your eyes back up, nearly falling to your knees when you saw him drinking from a circular canteen. You must’ve made some noise, because he was now smirking at you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and you watched a droplet of precious water trail down his scarred chin, dripping onto his dusty clothes.

“See somethin’ you want, sweetheart?” He was unabashedly cocky with his tone.

You son of a bitch, you thought, glaring daggers into him.

“Now, now, no need to be like that,” he chuckled, taking another sip. “Just tell me what ya want.”

He wanted you to ask for it. He wanted you to be at his mercy. Groaning, you rest your head back against the wall. You don’t think you’ve ever hated anyone as much as you hated The Ghoul. Any humanity left in him had been stripped away, leaving behind a cruel excuse of a human. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the way your heart continued to patter in your chest as he stared at you expectantly, that cocky attitude doing things to you that would leave anyone who knew you horrified.

“I…” you tried to talk, but your voice proved to be too scratchy. Clearing your throat as best you could, you tried again, ignoring the way he looked at you like a predator would his prey. It was similar to the bear from earlier, but you’d take that now over the ghoul in front of you. “I need water.”

He tsked, crossing a leg over his lap. “And here I thought you Vaulties were raised with manners.”

It took everything in you to not just snap at him, but that would leave you without any water. “I need water, please,” you gritted out.

The Ghoul shook his head disapprovingly. “Shame,” you heard him mutter, before he was slowly pouring the water out onto the floor behind him.

Sheer panic tore through you, and if you were able to form tears, they would be in your eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you pleaded, your voice cracking and breaking, and you lunged forward. The click of a gun had your blood going cold, but he at least had the decency to stop pouring. You held your hands up, taking a few steps back.

Registering that you weren’t going to attack him, he lowered the gun, but he still kept it on his lap. If he had any eyebrows left, you’re sure one of them would be raised, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” you stammered out, keeping your hands in the air. “I just… Can I please have some water? Please, I-I… I need it. I’m begging you… please.” You wondered if he could even make out your words.

You watched his eyes travel up and down your body, and he cocked his head. “Are you?” You made a confused noise, and he chuckled lowly. “Are you beggin’ me?”

One problem that you always had at the Vault is that you never knew when to shut your mouth, and what you said next certainly made it clear that you hadn’t learned yet. “You want me to get on my knees, then?” You had meant it sarcastically, and you immediately regretted it when his eyes went dark.

You heard the creak of the couch as he planted both feet on the ground, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. His guns barely stayed in his lap, but he didn’t seem to care. “Now that you mention it… yeah.”

Humiliation warmed your cheeks, and you nearly let your pride stop you from sinking to the floor, but then you saw the way the canteen hung precariously in his hand. Damn it all. Taking a deep breath, you lowered yourself slowly, unable to look at the man, not wanting to see his victorious reaction. The sand shifted beneath your knees as you rested on them, but you could barely feel the relief your feet finally felt.

“Can-”

“Closer,” he cut you off gruffly. “And I want those eyes on me.” His voice had turned husky, and you realized he was enjoying this. Were… were you enjoying this too? You honestly couldn’t tell.

Wordlessly, you obeyed, shuffling forward until your knees bumped into his shoes. Your ears burned worse than they did out in the sun, and you wished it would just explode and incinerate you right now. “Eyes up, sweetheart,” he practically purred.

You took a moment to prepare yourself before you were looking at him through hooded eyes. The brim of his hat cast a shade over his face, and you could only see the hungry glint in his eyes matched with a predatory smirk. Oh, he was loving this, and you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze, heat pooling in your belly that was quickly doused by shame.

“Can I please have some water? Please? I- I’m really thirsty and… just a bit. Please.”

His grin grew more as you begged, and you sagged with relief when he brought the canteen closer, no longer dangling over the back of the couch. “See, that ain’t so hard now, was it?”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologizing, for what, you weren’t quite sure. You weren’t too upset about it, though, especially when he brought the canteen to your lips.

“Head back,” he ordered, and you did, your neck straining at the angle. You swore you heard him groan when you parted your lips, never breaking eye contact with him. The water was disgusting and acidic, but damn if it wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had the pleasure of drinking. He poured it into your mouth, and you desperately swallowed every single drop, the dryness in your mouth and throat instantly being quenched.

But it wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t help the disappointed noise you let out when he ceased the pouring. “More, please,” you found yourself whining, any remnants of shame tossed out the broken window you’d climbed into.

“Manners, Vaultie,” he growled.

“Thank you, thank you,” you repeated like a mantra, and The Ghoul let out a pleased hum. Thirstiness still clung to you like a second skin, but you felt better than you had moments ago. Some of your energy had returned, and you felt like you were no longer in the grasp of death.

“You want more?” He asked, and you immediately nodded.

“Please,” you whispered, and you saw something almost wicked pass over his features.

“Don’t worry,” you felt one of his gloved hands sneak around your back, collecting a handful of hair and tugging, forcing your head back even further. You cried out, a mix of shock and pain. “You’ll get more. Just keep that pretty mouth wide open, just like that.” His normal drawl had turned into an almost rasp, and you shuddered.

You watched as he took a swig for himself, but he didn’t swallow, keeping the water in his mouth. Confused, you closed your mouth, but as soon as you did you felt him pull hard at your hair. Obediently, you opened it back up, a shaky exhale leaving you.

If he had a nose, it would be currently pressed up against yours. He adjusted so that he was practically towering above you, and man did the angle kill your neck, but you didn’t dare complain. With increasingly widening eyes, you watched as he slotted his mouth above yours, not touching, but you could still feel the heat from his body.

You nearly flinched when you felt the water hit your mouth, fighting every instinct that told you to shut it. The act was filthy and degrading, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t getting you incredibly aroused. Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming suffocating; it hadn’t even felt this bad when you were outside.

As he sat back on to the couch, his lips glistened in the dim light, stray remnants of water still coating them. As you held the water in your mouth, he frowned disapprovingly. “Do I gotta spell it out for ya?” He shifted forward again, grasping your face. “Swallow.”

When you did, he let go, tapping your cheek lightly. “Atta girl,” he cooed, and you sputtered, cheeks growing warm. Shifting where you sat, you tried and failed to relieve some of the tension in you. You thought you were subtle in your movements, but his sharpshooter gaze locked onto it immediately.

He laughed, a mix of surprise and condescension in one. “This gettin’ you turned on? Maybe you ain’t all that innocent, Vaultie.”

You eyed the half-hard tent in front of you. “I’m not the only one,” you grumbled out, and he laughed again.

“I ain’t the one on my knees, sweetheart.” Scoffing, you watched him lean back again. You expected him to say something, do something, but he simply watched you with anticipatorily. Something shifted in the atmosphere, and you realized he was putting the situation in your hands, wordlessly asking you how far you were willing to take this.

You needed this. You needed him, as bewildering as it was for you to admit to yourself.

Desire running deeper than that for water coursed through your veins, and you nodded. “More.” You both knew that you weren’t fully talking about the canteen in his hand.

“Good answer.” Before you could even register, he was gripping your face again. Fingers pressed into your cheeks harshly, opening your mouth back up. Taking another swig, you expected him to repeat what he’d done last time, but you were startled when you felt his lips on yours.

It was a strange kiss, his closed mouth against your open one, but it didn’t stay like that for long. His lips pulled apart, and without needing further prompting you swallowed another precious mouthful of water. You could feel that bastardly smirk against your mouth, and if you were anywhere near being able to create a coherent thought you would’ve said something.

But you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was like you were caught up in some haze, but you were sent out of it when you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth. You’d kissed a few people, sure, but never like this. It elicited a startled noise from you that had him pulling back an inch, and you had to fight yourself to not chase after his lips.

“Never had that before?” He chuckled, and he found your following silence an adequate enough answer. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He didn’t even give you a moment to react before he was crashing his mouth back against yours. It was all tongue and teeth and it had you moaning, and you felt the grip on your face tighten. Your head spun, and you tried to keep up with his movements, but you ended up just letting him take over, moving his mouth against your however he’d like.

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth, and your hands shot out, no longer able to just keep them idly in your lap. You found purchase on his thighs, the sinewy muscles tensing under your touch. But the grip on your face tightened more, almost incredibly painful. Your eyes shot open, alarmed, and a pained noise left you.

He had pulled away again, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths, but he was glaring down at you. “You better watch those hands.” Even though his voice was husky, the threat didn’t make you any less terrified.

You were confused, and you watched his eyes trail down to his lap where your hands were. Unable to move your head, you had to strain your own eyes to look down, and sheer dread washed over you when you saw his gun still in his lap, your hands a mere inch away from it.

“I- I wasn’t… I didn’t… ” you gasped breathlessly. “I didn’t know! I- I’m sorry! Please.” Out of all the times you’d begged and pleaded tonight, this time had to be the most genuine. Immediately retracting your hands back to your lap, you awaited his response tensely. What you failed to notice was the way his eyes darkened as you groveled, his pants growing tighter.

His gaze returned to your face, and out of the corner of your eye you watched as he moved the gun from his lap into his hand. You half expected him to point it at you next, but you let out a very audible sigh of relief when he set it on the couch beside him. It was completely out of your reach now, but he could still easily grab it.

He loosened the grip on your jaw, still holding it, but no longer digging into your flesh painfully. “I won’t stop you next time,” he growled, and it took you a second to register what he was saying: he won’t stop you next time because you’d be dead as soon as you began to reach for it.

You nodded as best you could. “Good,” he’d lost the threatening tone, but his voice was still gravely and raspy. “Now, where was I?” His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you sure they were swollen and shiny. “That’s right.”

Like nothing had happened, he returned to his ministrations, teeth grazing your bottom lip again. You hesitated when you set your hands back on his thighs, gaining more confidence when he didn’t stop you. In fact, he was actively encouraging your explorative touches, a pleased noise rumbling his chest as your fingers trailed up his thighs.

Another swipe of his tongue and a particularly harsh bite had you gripping onto him, barely able to find purchase on the thick material of his pants. You desperately needed air, but he held his grip on your jaw, seemingly unaffected by the issue you were having. Did ghouls need to breathe? It seemed like they didn’t, because he had yet to tear his mouth away for air once as he first kissed you.

As your hands reached his belt, it was then he finally tore away, a groan leaving him. Sucking in as much air as your lungs could handle, you ran your touch across the prominent bulge. You felt the hand on your jaw go lax, falling to his lap. “You gonna take care of that?” He was giving you another out, giving you an opportunity to stop you from doing something you could regret.

Rationally, you knew you should stop here, and pretend like this didn’t just happen. You knew the version of you from the Vault would do that. But this new part of you, exposed to the Wasteland and the savagery of the surface world found that you wanted to continue. Besides, you were probably going to end up getting killed in the next few days; why not have some new experiences before your time was up.

You didn’t respond, you simply began to undo the buckle of his belt. You couldn’t get the thing off of him, so it just rested open on his thighs. “Oh, you’re filthy,” he chuckled, spreading his legs even further apart while leaning back against the couch. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see what that mouth’s good for.”

This also wasn’t your first time in a situation like this. You’d only ever done it once, but you apparently weren't too terrible at it, as he frequently requested for a second time, but you always turned him down. You kinda wish you hadn’t now, wishing you had more experience now, but a part of you knew that this was about to be incredibly different from anything you would’ve experienced in the Vault.

With hands that you prayed weren’t incredibly shaky, you pulled down the zipper of his pants. He kept his eyes locked onto you the entire time, darkening even more as the unzipping noise hit his ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, no matter how hard you wanted to. Something about his expression had you locked in, and you shifted again.

“Don’t let me stop ya,” he rested his arms along the backside of the couch, and you realized you’d just been sitting there. Steadying yourself, you slipped your hand into the confines of his pants, underneath the waistband of his briefs. You heard him let out a small hiss when your fingers brushed over his cock, and you desperately wanted to hear him make more noises like that.

It took a bit of maneuvering before he was free, head brushing against his navel. The skin was pocked like the rest of his body, which you were expecting. What you weren’t expecting was how long he was, much longer than your previous encounter.

Before you could let nerves disarm you, you moved closer to him. Bracing your hands back on his thighs, you kissed his tip, and you heard his hiss again. Sneaking your tongue out, you ran it up his length, pressing another kiss when you reached the top. “Don’t tease,” he growled, tangling his gloved fingers back into your hair.

When you took him into your mouth, he let out a noise that sounded like a laugh and a sigh, the grip on your hair growing painful. It didn’t deter you, rather it drove you wild, and you took as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat, you had to stifle the urge to gag. Taking the rest of him in one of your hands, you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks.

You couldn’t see the way his eyes locked onto his cock leaving and entering your mouth, but you could hear the small grunts he made in tandem with the movement of your head. He kept his hips surprisingly still, but his fingers were somehow getting even tighter, as if all of his restraint was being poured into his grip, and it was on the verge of snapping. “You can take more.” It wasn’t a question, and you felt his press down on the back of your head when you had him fully in you.

Startled, you tried to make a noise, but the vibrations just went straight to his cock. He groaned, louder this time, and he didn't let up. “Relax,” he bit out, and you tried. You really did. Taking as deep a breath you could, you forced your muscles to relax, your hands going back to his thighs. Tears sprung to your eyes as you really tried not to gag, but a garbled sound still left you as he pushed himself further down your throat.

“Fuck,” he drawled out, “just like that.” It felt like five years had passed before your nose was finally pressed into his skin, his cock fully sheathed down your throat. Tears dripped onto his skin, but he didn’t seem to feel them. Your scalp stung as he lifted your head up, and you took in a shuddering breath, your lungs screaming for air.

You didn’t have a long reprieve before he was shoving you back down again, and even though the intrusion wasn’t new it still caused you to make an awful noise. It took him pulling you off again for you to realize what he was doing; he was fucking your mouth, using it for his own pleasure like you were just a toy. The realization had you moaning, the discomforts becoming an afterthought as he chased his pleasure, your own growing.

Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming unbearable arousal tightening in your core, and you snuck a hand down between your legs, trying to touch yourself through the thick material. It didn’t help, but you still tried anyway, desperate for any sort of relief. The Ghoul laughed, not letting up the way he moved your head. “Oh, sugar, is suckin’ my cock gettin’ you bothered?”

Your head spun, the new nickname and the crude words making you dizzy, and you let out what you hoped was a confirmatory sound. He only huffed in response, and you could tell that he was starting to get close to his release. His hips had started to buck, albeit slightly, and his groans had turned to unintelligible moans.

He cursed again, and you were barely able to glimpse his head roll back, hat hitting the ground. He didn’t care, continuing to fuck your face, and you desperately ground against your hand. “So good, fuck,” he panted, and you let your eyes flutter shut.

They shot open when you heard him moan your name, but you had little time to appreciate the way he said it. He pressed down hard on the back of your head, holding you there, your nose pressed flat against his body. A plethora of curses fell from his lips as he came, his cum spurting deep down your throat.

He let go, hands falling to his sides, and you removed yourself, coughing and gasping for air. Your cheeks were wet with tears, your jaw aching, but it was the best pain you’d ever felt. He stared at you with lustful eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Holy shit. You were tired, but you wanted more. But you weren’t expecting him to do anything else tonight. This wasn’t a partnership; he’d gotten his release. You’d need to deal with it on your own.

So caught up in what you were expecting, you gasped when you felt his lips graze the corner of your mouth. His hand cradled your cheek, leather growing damp, and you felt his lips brush the tears that had fallen on the other cheek. You realized he was licking your tears away, and when he registered that you noticed he chuckled, muttering something about not wanting to waste water. You let out an airy chuckle in return, still not fully wrapping your head about what had and what is transpiring.

“Guess one good thing came from that mouth,” he teased, referencing his earlier threat. He tugged you up, and you stood with knees shaking like a fawn. You’re certain you looked like a mess but he either didn’t care or really enjoyed it.

You really had no idea what was going to happen next. You observed him with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help the bewildered look when you saw him stroking himself, still rock hard like he hadn’t just come. He chuckled when he saw what had caused you to react. “One good thing ‘bout bein’ a ghoul,” he rasped. “Stamina.”

His own raked down your body, honing in on the way your thighs pressed together, and they flicked back up to your own. “Take it off.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, the zipper on your suit quickly becoming undone. Even though the air was hot, it still felt nice against your hot skin. He didn’t blink as you undressed, eyes clocking in every new inch of exposed skin. Tugging it down your shoulders and off your arms, you let it fall to the ground, the material pooling at your ankles.

Left in only your bra and underwear, you kicked the Vault-Tec suit off your feet, and you stood there, unsure. “All of it,” he continued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As you reached for the clasp of your bra, you watched him lean forward slightly, eyes watching you like you were the most delicious meal he was about to devour. Tossing the garment beside you, you reached for the waistband of your underwear. He raised a hand, making your halt, your fingers barely looped under the band.

With two fingers, he gestured you forward, grinning when you complied easily. His hands batted away your own, and you felt he begin to peel it away himself. He was almost eye level with your navel, and you felt his breath caress your stomach. It was like he was unwrapping a present, the way he ripped it down your legs, and it fell around your ankles like the suit.

You were hardly able to kick it away before he pulled you onto his lap, your hands bracing against his still clothed chest. The couch made a very audible noise, on the virgo of collapsing, but neither of you seemed to hear it. One of your legs straddled his thigh, your bare center pressed against his pants, no doubt soaking the material.

“You’re wearing too much,” you found yourself commenting, and you felt him chuckle. He took his hands off your waist, holding them in front of you so you could clearly see him take off his gloves, tossing them by his gun. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, realizing that that was all you were getting from him.

You weren’t complaining, though, when his bare hands touched you for the first time. Along with the marred skin, his fingers were calloused, years and years of harsh life, fighting, and shooting making them so, but they were the best things you’d ever felt touch your soft skin.

He seemed to be having similar thoughts, humming appreciated as he felt your body, fingers dancing up your sides. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and you sighed as he continued his exploration upwards. Worn hands cupped your breasts, fingers toying with your perked nipples, and you unconsciously pressed your chest forward. “Look at ya,” it felt like he was mostly talking to himself, “you ain’t gotta mark on your body.” You felt his mouth graze your breasts, lips ticking you as he spoke.

You jumped when his teeth made contact with the delicate skin of the top of your breasts, and he chuckled. Moving lower, he took one of your nipples between his lips, his hand making sure the other one was receiving the same attention. His tongue flicked, sucked, and the occasional nip had you crying out, jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. One of your hands settled on the back of his head, the other sneaking back between your legs.

With that surprising speed, he caught your wrist, not even tearing his mouth away from you. You let out a noise of complaint, and you could feel him grin. His hands left your breasts, settling back on your waist, and you felt him begin to rock you back and forth on his thigh. With every rock, your clit ground against the tensed muscle, and you let out small moans, small waves of pleasure crashed through your body.

When he felt you begin to move on your own, he let go, returning his touch to your breasts, playing and massaging them as you got off on his thigh. His mouth trailed up your body, leaving a trail of small kisses and ginger bites, your once smooth skin now slightly indented. Having been worked up for a while, you felt that you were growing close to release, his ministrations bringing you closer.

He was at your neck now, and he bit particularly hard at the thick tendon there. He laughed when he felt your hips begin to rock harder, and you felt his tongue smooth over the bitten skin. “I-” you tried to speak, but an airy whine from your throat cut you off. Your thighs were trembling, and you could feel the damp patch that had formed on his pants, but you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed right now.

“You close, sugar?” Not trusting your voice, you nodded instead. “Fuck, yeah you are. C’mon, let me feel ya,” he groaned, mouthing at your neck.

It only took a few more rolls of your hips before you came, his name tumbling from your lips as a loud cry, pleasure igniting all your nerves. Your stubbed nails dug into the back of his head, and he growled. Your whole body was trembling as you rode out your high, only ceasing the movement of your hips when it became too overstimulating.

A shocked laugh left you, and you slumped forward. That seemed to be the last straw for the couch, the furniture collapsing beneath the two of you. It nearly caused to tumble off his lap, but you felt his hands secure under your thighs. He stood, holding you like you weighed nothing, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his body.

He eased you to the ground, the sand digging uncomfortably into your skin, causing your back to arch off the ground to avoid feeling it. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out when you watched him shrug off his jacket, tucking behind you wordlessly. These small glimpses of humanity you’d seen from the Ghoul, like when he saw the crib, or when he gave you a way lead you to believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you originally believed him to be.

Well, you still hated him, and you were still his captive, but you realized that he wasn’t a complete monster. It was moments like this, where those high walls he’d built to survive in the Wasteland began to crumble, and you could see glimpses of the man you assumed he once was.

He didn’t give you much time to reflect, though, because his lips were crashing against yours, and all thoughts disappeared. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his cock pressed against your folds. He didn’t press in though, and you whined against his lips, moving your hips as best you could to try and get him to move. “Whatdya want, sweetheart?” He murmured, nestling his head in the crook of your neck.

“You,” you gasped out.

“I’m right here,” he chuckled a bit, and he still didn’t move.

Groaning, you ground against him again, trying to get him to just push himself into you. He groaned, yet he still didn’t move, his resolve stronger than you anticipated. “Fuck me, please,” you choked out, and you could see him smirk in satisfaction.

He didn’t respond, and you felt him press into you, sheathing into you with a single thrust. Similar noises of pleasure escaped both your mouths, and your fingers wove into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to find something to grip onto. He stretched you out so well, and you gasped when you felt his hips press against you. He was so deep inside of you, father than any other person you’d taken to bed, and it overwhelmed you in all the best ways.

“Sugar, you feel incredible.” You babbled something in response, and you hated how proud he looked. He didn’t give you time to adjust before he was setting a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours. The sound of skin on skin and your cries of his name filled the room, and you swore if you gripped any tighter on his shirt that it would rip.

Small puffs of air tickled your neck with every thrust, whispers of your name hidden in the gasps. Fingers dug into your waist, most likely going to leave marks in the morning, your once smooth skin littered with marks of him. You couldn't see what your body looked like right now, but you had a pretty damn good idea, and the picture you visualized in your mind had you clenching around him, causing him to falter, albeit it only for a second.

Despite the slight overstimulation you were feeling, you could feel another orgasm begin to form, slowly but surely. Letting go of his shirt, you grasped at his face, pulling back up for another breath-stealing kiss. You were so caught up in the way he continued to thrust into you and the way his mouth slotted against yours that you failed to notice the way one of his hands left your waist.

You broke the kiss with a startled yet pleased nosed when you felt his fingers begin to work at your clit, rubbing fervent circles into the sensitive nerves in time with the thrusts of his hips. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart. C’mon,” he groaned out, and your head hit the ground, barely softened by the jacket and the sand.

His name had turned into soft pants, unable to form a coherent thought as he relentlessly fucked you. The added stimulation brought you closer to the edge, and you tried to let him know you were getting close. “Go ‘head, lemme feel ya,” his accent had been cranked up to a hundred, and in any other situation you would’ve found that funny.

With a final cry of his name, you came again, your vision going white as you temporarily spaced out, the pleasure too overwhelming. When you came to, he had pulled out of you, leaving you empty and shivering. You watched as he stroked himself a few more times before he came all over your stomach.

It was only the sound of breathing in the room now, both of you just staring at each other as you calmed. Relaxing on his coat, you watched as he stood, tucking himself back into his pants as he did. Closing your eyes, you focused on your breathing, jumping when you felt a cloth on your stomach, wiping away his release from your skin.

He didn’t say anything, tossing the cloth to one of the corners of the room when he was done. He placed your clothing beside you, before sitting and resting against the collapsed remnants of the couch, head rolling back.

Groaning, you broke free from the post-orgasmic haze you were in, sitting upright. Both pleasure and pain still lingered in your muscles, making your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Slipping on your undergarments, the dampened fabric of your underwear was incredibly uncomfortable, but you gritted your teeth and ignored it. After putting on your bra, you debated putting on the Vault-Tec suit, but the idea of putting it back on made our overheated body cry.

The Ghoul watched you as you redressed, thinly veiled desire and interest flicking in those eyes. You were now sitting upright on his jacket, and you got up onto your knees, freeing the garment and holding it in your arms. Scooting towards him, you held it out to him with shaking arms, almost like a peace offering. His eyes didn’t leave you as he took it, setting it beside him.

Before you could decide that it was a bad idea, you sat down next to him, shoulders brushing. If he was surprised, he did a good job of hiding. Exhaustion returned, and you felt your eyes begin to flutter close, head bobbing as you struggled to stay awake.

It was your turn to be surprised when you felt him pull your shoulder down, resting your head in his lap. You were even more surprised when he draped his jacket over your shoulders, the material thin enough to not overheat you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes, but he avoided your gaze, staring at the half-standing wall in front of him.

“Rest. We’re leavin’ at sunrise.” His voice was hoarse, back to that commanding tone from earlier.

Getting as comfortable as you could, you let your eyes shut, sleep beckoning you. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, but as you felt his fingers comb delicately through your hair, you knew that he was no longer going to be following his original plan for you.

#fallout #the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

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probablyasocialecologist · 2 months ago

Text

Sasha Plotnikova: Last October, one of the first escalations Israel took as part of its genocidal war on Gaza was turning off the water supply. Since then, the IDF has continued to target the supply of water: water tanks, water treatment facilities, and sewage pumps have all been attacked, resulting in widespread dehydration and water-borne diseases. Now, no soap or cleaning supplies are allowed to enter Gaza, deepening the hygiene crisis created by the lack of safe water. It’s important to note that Israel has militarily attacked Gaza’s water infrastructure in recent memory, during Operation Cast Lead in 2008, and Operation Protective Edge in 2014. Can you give us a picture of access to potable water in Gaza between these times of pronounced military violence? Muna Dajani: What we’ve been witnessing for the past ten months in Gaza is a cruel intensification of the systematic deprivation of Palestinians from their right to water. The fact that Israel was able to switch off the water supply to Gaza indicates that it completely controls Gaza’s water access, especially potable water. Over the past decades, Gaza has been turned into a place where water has become a resource that is unfit for human consumption, and this is a process blatantly imposed by Israel and sanctioned by the international community. The situation was so dire in Gaza even before October 2023 that a lot of international organizations were calling it an unlivable place, or that it would be uninhabitable by the year 2020. But these predictions don’t actually tell us how and why Gaza has become so uninhabitable. This is not caused by a natural disaster or apolitical factors like the climate, water scarcity, or even merely explained by over-extraction. It’s been systematically imposed on a place that has been completely confined, segregated, put under siege, and disconnected geographically from the rest of Palestine. Just like any other place around the world, Gaza should be able to depend on other places that may have more abundant resources to sustain its environment and its people, but the siege and Israel’s systematic settler colonial control over land and territory prevents that.

27 August 2024

#israel #palestine #gaza #water #zionism #settler colonialism

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firapolemos05 · 8 months ago

Text

Manners

CW: suggestive, creepy whumper, lady whumper, pet whump, water deprivation, muzzles, defiant whumpee, forced to beg

The glass of water on the table had caught her Pet's attention.

Scarlet noticed him stealing glances over the book in her hands, eyes darting between the glass and the floor. Longing. Oh it was simply adorable how he tried to hide it.

'How long should I make him wait?'

She raised the glass and took a nice long sip, the cool liquid refreshing. Her Pet's gaze held longer that time, a glint of desperation sneaking into his eyes. Chapped lips pulled into a thin line under his muzzle, and Scarlet knew he was trying so hard not to waste any remaining moisture in his mouth on them.

It had been days since she last allowed him to drink.

A consequence of disobedience.

Fluids and nutrients delivered intravenously would prevent any actual dehydration, but that did nothing to treat cottonmouth. The parched barren of his throat must be unbearable by now.

"You must be thirsty, aren't you, Pet?" she inquired. His eyes shot back to the floor, embarrassment marking his face at being caught. Scarlet chuckled. That pride of his made it too easy. "Come now, you remember your tenth rule, right?"

Mentioning the rules always made him flinch. Oh he remembered alright. She had made sure of that. Made him recite each one over and over, interrupting each mistake or refusal with a strike of her switch across his back.

He remembered them very well.

'Rule 10: Pets do not request, they beg.'

While knowing his rules was one thing, following them was another. And her Pet had a particularly difficult time with this one. A defiant little one, he was, but after several weeks of strict training, Scarlet had cracked his armor.

Some beautiful cracks.

The fear that flashed in his gaze whenever she entered his cell. The empty, resigned silence whenever she ran her fingers through his hair, or traced the masterpiece of scars over his skin. He was even getting better at remembering to call her 'master.'

Now Scarlet watched another crack form. Watched the show of emotions he failed to suppress: anger, humiliation, anxiety, craving. She took another sip from the glass and watched the unspoken threat fuel those last two. And soon she spots the exact moment of breakage.

He turned towards her and bowed his head. His voice weak and rasping.

"May I please have some water. . . Master?"

Oh how delightful.

It usually takes him far longer to beg. He must really be desperate. He didn't even growl this time.

The satisfaction was like a drug.

"Good boy," she smiled and he bristled at the praise. He despised it now but it'll be a matter of time before he's craving that too. She pointed to the floor in front of her chair. "Come here."

Her Pet hated to crawl, but he knew better than to attempt standing without permission. Oh well. He can be grateful his arms are bound in front of him today.

He avoided eye contact as he approached, a glare glued to the tile flooring. But soon, he was where he looked best, kneeling at her feet.

His hands rose to reach for the glass, a gesture Scarlet swiftly corrected by catching the chain connecting them under her boot and pinning them down.

"Pets do not use their hands," she scolded and he grimaced. She held the glass out, hovering it just above his head. "Tilt your head back and open your mouth."

His face flushed dark at that, the anger and shame making a reappearance. He had earned his reward, but he still had to accept it however she wished him to. Even if it was a display of power such as this. It was too late for him to refuse, but he almost looked as if he was going to try. Fortunately for him, the desire to quench his thirst won out. He obeyed, his jaws parting as far as the muzzle would allow them.

Scarlet poured slowly, wanting to savor his reactions. She could be a gracious master now and then. She was careful to let the water fall steadily in between the muzzle's wires.

To his credit, her Pet tried to remain stoic, composed. But as soon as liquid passed his lips, the animal need took over. Like an eager dog he gulped it down, leaning closer, squeezed his eyes shut as he craned his neck to catch every last drop. The effort failed him, as his movements made the drops catch on the muzzle, splashing over the metal. Well, that was his own fault. Glossy streaks ran down his chin and neck.

Scarlet licked her lips.

She should do this again, just with her favorite red wine. Painting her Pet's neck with dripping red would be quite enticing. And it would be an order then, rather than a reward. He won't be able to refuse, and won't be able to stop her from pulling him into her lap to lick the wine from his neck.

Oh how he will hate it. And she will feast on his helpless fear.

The last drop of water fell from the glass.

It's barely enough to satiate. Her Pet gasped for air, greedily seeking more where there is none. It will be a short respite, and he closed his mouth to prevent his breaths from stealing that back. Then he noticed the amused expression of approval on his master’s face and turned away, abashed at his behavior.

Scarlet curled a finger through his muzzle, pulling him back to face her. "Now what do you say?"

Another rule he had difficulty with.

Contempt twisted his features, and before he could think better of it, the words already left his mouth. "Go to hell."

Scarlet grinned. She can already taste his regret.

Time for another lesson.

#whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump stuff #pet whump #lady whumper #Scarlet Matar #my ocs #my writing #my work #original #had some creative juices today so decide to gift myself a birthday present

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mageofseven · 1 year ago

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ITS ME ONCE AGAIN, HELLOOO

After the vampire event, I'm thinking about like what if MC was the vampire? Thus, here I am

"Vamp!MC asks the Boys if they will let Vamp!MC feed on them."

Mammon ilysm and the Nestling With Birdie series is so good omg

Edit: This took three days to write so despite down below how I mention the Boys, sadly I was only able to give you the Brothers. Sorry, my ADD was fighting me so this is all I have to show for it 😅

I hope you like it anyway.

Oooo ok nice idea. I sadly never got to finish that event but I love vampires~

Also awww, I'm glad you like Birdie's series so much hehe 🤭

Okay so I'll write this with these assumptions:

Bites do not turn the Boys. Maybe this a human strain of the Vampirism virus they caught that Soli's immortal immune system is too super charged for?

MC is handling their thirst worse than the brothers did in the event.

They will be cured regardless of whether they bite and drink anyone's blood; the cure is simply time consuming to make, but others are working on it.

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

Lucifer:

The oldest was the only House of Lamentation member allowed in the human's room at this time; his brothers simply could not be trusted.

He was the one to check on the sick human (kinda? let's still call them that) and make sure they ate their meals (they still needed nourishment despite their condition; food helped, but was never quite enough).

As the week dragged on, the poor sick human's thirst became more and more unbearable.

"Please." MC gripped the pride demon's shirt, trying to force him down to give them access to his neck.

Lucifer sighed and stared down at his poor love guiltily. He should have been more careful with them, more observant with the culture; surely then he could have prevented this terrible infliction from reaching them.

He raised his gloved hand to their face, stroking their cheek lovingly as they leaned in with tears in their eyes, nuzzling his covered wrist.

Lucifer watched this for a moment, lips pursed, before sighing once more.

"We don't know what my blood will do to you." He insisted. "So just a bit to push back your thirst."

And with that, he took back his hand, removed his glove and pushed up sleeve before offering his wrists to them

Despite their previous begging, MC hesitated and looked back up at Luce's onyx eyes.

"It's alright." He spoke softly. "Drink. Take some of the pain away."

And so they did. MC gently took hold of his hand and lower arm before bringing his wrist closer to their face.

That's when the Avatar of Pride saw it; his love's eyes glazed over and they licked their lips before biting into the sensitive skin.

Luce didn't make a sound, but did squeeze his eyes shut at the sharp intrusion.

MC took big gulps, ready to rid themself of this special dehydration.

Once he felt his partner's body relax and desperation dissipate, he took his other hand and squished their cheeks be his thumb and forefinger, guiding them off his wrist and forward to look at him.

With messy lips and a little trail of blood runny down their lips, MC stared up at him with this loving, drunk expression.

They giggled, causing their boyfriend to raise an eyebrow.

"What's so funny, love?"

"Luuuuci looooooves me."

Okay so apparently vampires, whether all, human based, or human-turned, get drunk off of demon blood.

This...an interesting development, to say the least.

MC leaned in and kissed him, causing the man to taste his own blood.

Well, at least MC was no longer in any pain.

Mammon:

Devil, it was driving this man insane.

Yeah, he knows Lucifer told him and the others to leave MC be till the cure is ready, but it just wasn't that simple.

That was his human sick. That was Mammon's partner in there crying and begging to be let out.

And he was just so supposed to stay away from her room still Lord Diavolo got that cure all sorted out?

Hell no.

Late at night, when Lucifer was neck deep in his work, you bet your ass Mammon snuck into his human's room, finding MC curled up on the bed crying.

"Heyy--"

Before he came say anything more, his poor human scrambling off the bed and rushing to his side, practically falling into him as they embrace their boyfriend.

"Maaaammmmooon." They cry out his named, stretching out the sound of it as they hug him tightly.

"Eyy, none of that." He hugged them back. "I made it to you, didn't I?"

"It huuuuurrrts."

The greed demon froze.

Shit. It's getting that bad already?

MC squirmed against him staring up at his neck with tears in their eyes.

Not gonna lie, getting bit in the neck sounds scary as hell to this dude...but how can he let his human stay like this?

He slid a hand in their hair.

"It's alright, I gotcha." He told them softly. "It's my job to take care of ya, ain't it?"

And with that, he pushed their head to his neck, their breath causing the hair on his neck to stand to up and his beat race.

Their cries quieted swallowed in anticipation as they leaned in closer and slowly licked up their boyfriend's neck, an apparently sensitive spot for the demon by the way he let out a small moan--right before they dug in with their fangs.

Mammon cursed, tightening his fist in their hair as his other arm wrapped around their waist.

MC's breathing became heavier during the moments they'd stopped drinking to breath and her drinks became deeper.

It didn't take long for Mammon to start feeling light headed.

Shit. How does he get them to stop?

"Ey, babe?"

No response. His body was getting more tired.

"Treasure, listenin'--"

MC pulled away, giggling, before suddenly both toppled onto the ground.

The human was too drunk to get up and the demon was too light headed, but at least MC was more than content to cuddle with him on her rug 🥰🤭

Leviathan:

Okay, the otaku knew he was not supposed to be in here

But this was his Henry we're talking about.

How could Lucifer expect him to abandon the person he loves? The only one who truly understands him?

Levi simply wasn't strong enough to do it.

He snuck into MC's room in the middle of the night and found them laying on the floor, softly crying.

At first, the envy demon stood awkwardly in the doorway.

Should he...?

No. This is literally his partner. MC needs him now more than ever.

And so he closed the door behind him and joined his Henry on the floor, laying down next to them.

He shouldn't be so weird about it; after all, this wasn't the first time they've both laid on the floor and felt like garbage together.

"Henry..."

MC reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Levi...I can't take it anymore." They whispered.

He squeezed their hand. The demon doesn't know a lot about vampires and the disease, but thirst is known for being torturous and is used as an emotional element in many supernatural anime.

Throat ash dry, body weak, desperate for even a single drop; that's how newly turned vampires usually feel in shows; is this how MC feels now?

Tears started to fill his eyes.

"J-Just drink from me." Their boyfriend told them. "Please...it's okay."

Slowly, the human brought their linked hands down at an angle that brought his wrist to their mouth.

At first, MC simply pressed their lips over the big blue vein seen through his skin, as if kissing him in apology before parting their lips and sliding their fangs into his tender skin.

Levi cried out, but didn't pull away; he let his poor Henry weakly drink from his wrist.

The cure was truly taking a while, wasn't it? The others swore food would be enough subtain them till it was ready, but MC looked as if they have been hanging on by a thread this entire time.

His Henry needed this; they needed this and Levi felt proud of himself for breaking the rules in order to help his partner.

The more the human drank though, the more tired he felt.

Should...should he tell them to stop? What if they need more?

Luckily, MC had enough restraint to break away and smiled at their boyfriend with half-lidded eyes.

The human rolled on top of him, causing their boyfriend to blush.

MC leaned down and kissed his cheek before laying their head on his chest.

"Thank you..."

And like that, the tired and blood drunk human fell asleep.

Satan:

Anyone who thought he was going to listen to his father was freaking stupid.

That was his Kitten in there, sick and alone.

The wrath demon destroyed half the living room when Lucifer made the announcement about what MC's illness ended up being and how no one was allowed to be in their room or anywhere around them till Diavolo had his people make a cure.

But it was ridiculous. The vampiric virus was just the human strain and therefore Satan couldn't catch it.

The blonde knew the pride demon was more concerned about MC's bites, but it's not like he's ever been afraid of his Kitten's bites before; now they simply have a purpose.

Satan was determined not to let his partner suffer alone, no matter what.

The man approached the door and undid the lock charm before stepping inside.

The room was dark, but the hall light was enough to show the man that the human was sitting on floor with their back to their bed, knees to their chest, and face hidden in their arms.

Satan's heart ached at the sight. This infliction was bad enough, but the blonde knew what was truly getting to his poor Kitten: being left alone.

The demon turned on the light and stepped inside before closing the door; MC still hasn't moved an inch.

He sat on the bed and stroke his partner's head for moment.

"Come here, Kitten."

"But...but I'll hurt you..." They sniffled.

"I promise I can take it."

The human poked an eye out hesitantly before reaching a hand out for help up.

Satan took it and guided them up to his lap.

It was nighttime so Satan had on his sleepwear, including a tank top that revealed his shoulders.

MC laid their head on his right shoulder and Satan rubbed their back.

"You can do it."

And with that encouragement, the human sank their fangs into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Satan winced, but still held his Kitten close and rocked them as they drank from his body.

His Kitten will be okay soon. He knew the affect demon blood will have on them in this state and truthfully, it was better than what they must have been feeling this entire time.

The man listened to them sip deeply from him, but also noticed that they seemed strangely more controlled than he thought they would be; they even pulled back before he asked, face messy with their 'drink'.

"Thank you." They smiled, buzzed but not truly drunk.

"You can more, Kitten." He told them, but his partner only shook their head.

"I just want you to hold me right now." MC admited. "Is that okay?"

Satan smiled and kissed them, unbothered by the blood.

"Of course."

Even with how bad the thirst is, it was the loneliness that hurt his Kitten the most.

Once they have been held and kissed to a sufficient degree then they will drink more; for now, they just need comfort.

Asmodeus:

Asmo told the others he was go head to bed early, that his beauty sleep was calling and so he had to say adieu.

Instead, he snuck over to his Dolly's room and slid inside.

There was no way he was going to let them suffer through this on their own; not if he could help it.

The room was dark, but he found the sweet human curled up in bed, under the blanket.

The lust demon slipped in bed next their partner and wrapped his arm around them.

"Doll...I'm here." He spoke softly, caressing their arm.

"Azzy...you can't be here."

"Of course I can. You need me after all." Their boyfriend pressed some sweet kisses to their neck.

The demon sucked on a sensitive spot of the human's neck, a spot he knew was their favor, causing them to release a little gasp.

Azzy broke away.

"See? Let me take care of you~"

In truth, the man didn't particularly want his beautiful skin to be punctured, but for MC, it simply wasn't something he had to think about.

The human rolled over and stared at him anxiously.

Asmo smiled sweetly at them before sliding a hand into their smooth hair and gently leading them to his neck.

The human was nervous, but first decided to return the favor, playfully sucking on a sensitive area their boyfriend loved, causing him to moan before sinking their teeth in him as gently as they could.

Asmo played with his Dolly's hair as they drank. His poor Doll. Being sick is never fun, but being sick with a nasty vamp virus and having to hide away, all alone in their room with a burning thirst?

Take your time, sweetie; Azzy gots you.

MC drank for a while from the lust demon, but also drank small sips, savoring each drop that slid down their throat.

Their boyfriend didn't mind this; they were being quite gentle with him and he loved getting the chance to cuddle with them after so long of Lucifer keeping them apart.

Eventually, MC pulled back and looked at their boyfriend sweetly before leaning in for a sweet kiss.

The two had another activity to catch up on, something the human was only all the more interested in from drinking from a lust demon.

Beelzebub:

Beel was in the the kitchen making his usual midnight snack raid.

In truth...his heart really wasn't in it.

MC's room was right next door and, unlike the other men on this list, he was trying to follow Lucifer's orders.

His Muffin was sick so surely it was better for them to get rest till their medicine is ready...right?

The more time that passed, the less this man was sure.

Beely missed them. He wanted to hold them close and spend their days together like they always did 🥺😔

That's when he spotted them: iced tweety birds. MC likes munching on those bird shaped cookies as they study.

...Maybe his Muffin would like a snack? Granted, he understood food wasn't necessarily what their body was looking for, but still.

The big guy quietly left the kitchen with the little carton of cookies and opened the door next door to MC's room.

"Muffin?"

MC was sitting on the bed, hugging the big orange teddy bear he won for them at the Devildom's carnival and when I say big, I mean the demon sees the fluffy bear and no human.

The human responded by hugging the bear tighter.

Beel stepped in and closed the door.

"I brought cookies."

He shook the cartoon for emphasis and to let them know which type.

"Beely...I...I...I can't eat anymore."

The gluttony demon heart was shot. Their illness must be really bad if they can no longer eat food.

The man sat the carton on the desk before joining his partner on the bed.

He pulled them and the teddy into his arms and held them tightly (but not too tight, he was very conscious not to squeeze them too hard since they're sick).

Suddenly, the human dropped the bear and climbed onto their boyfriend's lap, kneeling on his legs to raise them to eye level with him.

"Beel..." Their voice was a plead that almost crossed into a whine. "I'm so thirsty..."

"Want me to get you a pop from the kitchen or something?"

MC laid their head on his chest and whimpered.

"Muffin??"

"Beel...I need blood. Please. Please."

Oh. Oh.

Right. Poor MC has apparently advanced this far.

"I got blood." He said simply. "You can bite me."

"B...b-but..."

Their boyfriend pressed a kiss to their forehead.

"It's okay." He spoke softly.

MC stared into his purple orbs for a minute more and watched him give them a small nodded.

The human leaned to their left and demon bent their neck out a bit, giving their partner more room.

MC made a small test nibble in the crook of his neck before looking back to Beel.

Their boyfriend was still smiling encouragingly to them so they turned back and bit in for real.

Beel has a high pain tolerance so the man didn't even wince at the bite.

He kept his arms wrapped around his partner and gently rocked them and rubbed their back as they drank.

The gluttony demon was such a big guy that the human didn't drink nearly enough to make him feel weak by the time they pulled away.

MC looked back up at him shyly, their face messy with his blood.

He chuckled and wiped their face with his hand before kissing their cheek.

"Good Muffin."

Belphegor:

Yeah, Lucifer really didn't think his little rule through.

Not only was it stupid in Belphie's eyes, his older brother should have known he wasn't going to follow it.

Still, the youngest pretended like it was any other day and slept through most of it, as per usually.

When night came and most brothers where asleep or at least off in their usual nightly rooms, Belphie left the planetarium and headed downstairs to MC's room.

The human was laying on their rug, staring up at the ceiling with dried tears on their cheeks and red eyes.

Their boyfriend's eyes went wide as they hurried to join their partner on the rug and pulled them to his chest.

He pulled his cardigan back to give MC more neck room.

"Drink. Come, just do it."

"B-But--"

"You've suffered enough, Butthead." He pushed their face closer to his exposed neck. "Now do it."

MC left out a small whimper before bringing their lips to his neck and biting down.

Belphie squeezed his eyes shut at the bite, but otherwise made no reaction.

His former scowl softened as he listened to his partner gently drink from him, slow tears sliding down their cheeks as they did so.

The more the human drank, the less they cried.

Soon, the burning in their throat ceased and so did their tears.

MC broke away, finding their boyfriend barely conscious.

"Belphie? Belphie?!"

"I...fi..ne..."

And with that, the sloth demon passed out it and in truth, it made sense.

'Donating' a lot of blood can make any one tired; it made some of the other brothers so as well

But when it's the Avatar of Sloth whose done so?

Yeah, you have nothing to worry about, MC; it's not your fault.

Just let your boyfriend sleep it off.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me vampire event #obey me mc #t: brielle043

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moe-lazyeye · 17 days ago

Text

The Grove (botgd 2)

The leeks had prevented Dixie from losing his mind from hunger and the spring water from dying of thirst. However, in the face of a former day and a half without any nourishment, the relief did not last long.

Dixie once again found himself riding atop of The Arbiter's back as the pair continued their attempt to cross the Steppes. The distant trees sat on the horizon, and although Fiendal was swift, the trip was still one that was going to leave Dixie dehydrated, sore, and starving once more. Worse still, an extra day camping in the grassland had to be taken in order to dedicate the time needed to fully rehydrate, as there was no promise of food or water at the end of the Steppes. Some more leeks had been found...but not nearly as many as before.

The man didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that, technically, a human could survive without food for weeks.

Since their disagreement over the visitor's execution, the two hadn't said much to each other. But with what felt like an endless journey ahead, Dixie eventuality spoke quietly. "Fiendal... what will you do if there are child remains found in your village? I mean... it's unlikely that there wouldn't be..."

#battle of the grounded dungeon #botgd #botgd2 #dixieblogs #botgd 2

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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 2 months ago

Text

The Fox

Season One Masterlist

Machismo

Natural Born Killer

Summary: There is an unsub killing families of a mom, a dad, a son, and a daughter in Maryland and Virginia who were thought to be on vacation before being found dead in their homes.

Warning: References to the death of children; Talk of unchild-like behavior; Mention of Emily Prentiss; Reference to Season Twelve Arc, Zoe being kind of mean to Garcia

"You will catch the fox with cunning and the wolf with courage." — Albanian Proverb

Doctor Thomas Fuller wrote, "With foxes, we must play the fox."

Jack Hotchner (even though Hotch had stated he didn’t want his son to have the same name as a serial killer but chose the name of one of the most infamous) was born October nineteenth, 2005, exactly nineteen days ago, the first (known) child of the BAU since Zoe and his birth had been far less scary than her own, twenty years ago. He was finally meeting his BAU family. He seemed to be so sleepy as Hotch held him.

"He's so gorgeous." Zoe said, showing a whole new side to her.

“Thank you.” Haley said, beaming with pride.

“If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive.” Spencer said.

“Look at his little witty bitty nose.” Garcia cooed.

“He is so cute. Cuter than I ever was.” Zoe said.

“Zoe, you were a cute little baby.” Alexander scolded his youngest.

“No. Zarah was the cute baby. I was the baby that everyone was concerned about and the stillborn.” Zoe deadpanned.

“Briefly! They resusitated you! Before I had a heart attack at twenty-one. And I mean, yeah, you said your first word at six months old and by nine months, you could speak full sentences. And by three years old, I found out Rossi let you interview Ted Bundy.” Alexander had to agree that Zoe did cause quite a bit of worrying with her unchildish-like behavior and fascination with true crime and serial killers.

“Well, he was being executed in January.” Zoe deadpanned like she didn't see what was wrong with that.

Garcia changed the subject as Morgan approached and JJ looked at Zoe, incredulously, “Don’t you want one of these.”

“Mm. I’ll just stick to practicing.” Morgan snarked.

"Zoe?"

Zoe looked at Garcia with an initially incredulous look that slowly formed into a deadpan look which usually meant Garcia was being unintentionally insensitive. In this case, the man who killed her mother got off on killing both pregnant women and their unborn fetuses

Elle came over and said, "Congratulations.

"Thanks. She's amazing. I'm a little terrified." Hotch said.

"Rightly so." Zoe said, obliviously, adjusting the

"Zoe." Alexander scolded his youngest.

"What?" She asked, still oblivious. "Shush! He'll get cold! Speaking of cold, colds in newborns are not usually serious but it can develop into more dangerous conditions if left untreated. A fever of 100.4 or higher under three months is considered an emergency and should go to the hospital. And babies can suffocate in unsafe sleeping positions, the safest sleeping position until age one in on their backs, this can refuse the risk of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome by up to forty-five times and gravity makes it harder for spit up to enter their airways, which can prevent choking. And infants have a higher percentage of body water than adults and since they can't communicate their thirst, they're espeically suspceptible to dehydration.

Spencer nodded in approval, not realizing how horrified they were making everyone else. Haley looked espcially horrified.

"Are you trying to give us both heart attacks now?" Hotch deadpanned.

"Maybe." She said. "Ever heard of paternity leave?"

"Zoe."

"What? I was last BAU child, and I was a disaster." Zoe said.

"You'll be fine, Haley." Alexander reassured her. "I raised two girls who were too smart than any baby should be that their age."

"We should get going." Haley said, seeing Elle had cases in her hands.

"A pleasure seeing you, Mrs Hotchner." Spencer said, formally.

Haley put baby Jack back in the stroller and rolled him into into the elevator.

"Sudden Infant Death Syndrome?" Hotch asked Zoe.

"What?" She asked, incrediously.

Elle handed out the files with a heavy sigh.

"Bad?" Hotch asked.

"The worst." Elle said.

They arrived to the briefing room where Gideon had put up the photos of the crime scene and victims on the board. "Crawford family. Murdered three days ago."

"I saw it on the news." Morgan said, entering.

"They were found in the basement of their house." Gideon said.

"Bags packed for a vacation they never took." JJ added.

"Reporter said it was a murder-suicide? The father stabbed them all and then shot himself?"

"That's the conclusion Maryland State Police came to. The gun was found next to the father, he had gunpowder residue on his right hand."

"That's usual. Two different weapons in a murder-suicide." Zoe noted, frowning. She personally knew a person or two connected to a murder-suicide... or attempted one.

"And now you must have some compelling reason to think that Chris Crawford didn't off his family?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah. Another murdered family, the Millers, found a month ago." JJ said and put down a photo of a family. "The mother, Reese Miller, her two children and her new husband. Again, they were found in the basement, and like the Crawfords, their suitcases were packed for a vacation."

"Both cases, the bodies were discovered five days after their vacations were supposed to have started." Gideon said.

"Yet the coroner determined that they had been dead only twenty-four hours." JJ added.

"So, for four days both families remained in the house." Spencer noted.

"Location of the bodies in both cases, the basement. That indicates a level of organization." Gideon said.

"With a quick but disorganized application of overpowering force." Morgan added.

"If these aren't murder-suicides, someone's doing a damn good job of making them look like it." Spencer said.

"Possibly this man, Eric Miller." JJ said, holding up a mugshot photo of a man. "Biological father of the Miller children. Arlington PD issued a BOLO for Miller after the bodies were discovered."

"Ex-wife Reese Miller had a restraining order against him for domestic violence." Gideon said.

"When did she get remarried?" Morgan asked.

"The week before they were killed." JJ said.

Morgan sighed and said, "Violent husbands believe their wives and children are property. Reese Miller getting remarried possibly made him snap."

"I don't know." Zoe muttered, her instincts told her it was just too easy.

"Well, the Virginia cops finally located Eric Miller last night responding to a drunken disturbance at a motel, where Miller had been hiding out." JJ said. When they found him, they discovered blood on his black leather jacket. It belonged to his children."

"Was any of his DNA found at the Crawford house?" Morgan said.

"No." Gideon said.

"Did he know the Crawfords?" Morgan asked.

"If he does, he's not saying. In fact, he hasn't said a word since his arrest." JJ said. Spencer picked up the suspect's photo and raised his eyebrows in surprise at the look of the thuggish-looking man. "The Arlington PD have asked us to interview him."

"Oof, if anyone could apply overwhelming force, he's your man." Spencer commented.

"I want you and Zoe to find out. Talk to him." Gideon said,

"You-you want us to, uh, talk to him?" Spencer stuttered.

"Yeah, you've both done interviews before with other agents running point. You can do it together." Gideon said.

"Yeah, the last time, I was up close and personal with a criminal, he kicked my ribs in while saying some very inapporate words in Russian. This should be fun." Zoe deadpanned, causally.

"You interviewed multiple serial killers and cult leaders since you were three." Alexander deadpanned. "You spoke to Ed Kemper multiple times that you had such a rapor that he often complimented your intellect."

"And bombers and arsonists and kidnappers and terrorists. What's your point?" Zoe said with a defensive tone at the mention of the example.

"Did she just say terrorists?"

"Well, it wasn't so much an interview as them punching me and shouting at their professional torturers." Zoe said, again with that casualness.

—————————————————————————————

Spencer awkwardly fumbled with the door handle as Zoe watched before he finally opened it.

"You know, a door." She snarked.

He gave her a look before turning back to Eric Miller.

"I'm Doctor Spencer Reid and this is Doctor Zoe Noble-Valdez. We're from the FBI." He said as he opened the door for Zoe and closed it behind her.

"We'd like to ask a few questions, if you don't mind." Zoe said with a polite smile.

"You two got something you wanna ask me?" Eric spoke in a gravelly voice, "you look me in the eye, and you ask."

Zoe sat down as Spencer took his bag off and followed suit, sitting next to Zoe.

Spencer cleared his throat and looked through the file, "Three days ago..."

"You're not looking at me." Eric said.

Spencer looked him in the eye, still anxious and spoke, "Three days ago, the Crawford family was murdered."

"Is that right?" Eric said, passively.

"Did you know them?"

"What are you getting at?" Eric asked in a soft voice that Zoe recognized not only from that of roughened criminals but of her own. The kind that foreshadowed a danger in them. The want to be intimidating to survive.

Spencer opened the file and took out a photo of one of the Crawford family's bloodied hand from the morgue, peeking under the sheet.

"They were killed in the exact same way that your family was killed."

"And?" Eric asked, "I've been slapped around all night by every cop in Virginia. What makes you think a damn photo is gonna scare me?"

Zoe noticed he was cynical that they would actually get anything done. And as she knew from his profile, he had a long history of violence that stemmed from his childhood of near constant abuse, added in that he was an African-American in Virginia where at best he was two times more likely to be pulled over just for driving and his ex-wife, her new husband, and his children were found dead and he had their blood on him. From the look at it, his injuries weren’t just from the brawl but agitated police too.

Spencer looked down thinking and Eric hit the table abruptly with his handcuffed hands, making Spencer flinch. Zoe, however, didn't react at all, she just looked at him with the same professional, near apathy, she almost always had. "Is that what this is about, hmm?" He was getting angry.

Zoe didn't see sociopathy in him though, she saw hurt only caused by the heartache of a parental figure. She remembered that look from her childhood when Alexander would talk about Zelena. She remembered that look during the amount of the investigation for her sister after she had come back in her dad's eyes. The look in her dad's eyes when they told him that the kidnapping of Zarah Noble-Valdez had been marked a cold case. And every day since. The grief of a father.

Zoe briefly glanced down at Eric's handcuffs hands. They were brusied from throwing punches and... he was still wearing his wedding ring.

"You think I'm crazy? You think I suddenly snapped and I slaughtered my own wife and kids?" His voice broke with rage and mourning and exasperation. "You think I did this? Huh?" He slammed his fists back onto the table, making Spencer flinch again, albeit less violently as Eric furiously stood up. "IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK!?"

The guards restrained him as he stood up, making Spencer stand up, more out of fear of being attacked as his professional facade cracked as Zoe remained as calm as ever, staring up at Eric with no fear, showing more how that prison had traumatized her than at first glance. She had learned not to flinch long since before that, now it wasn't even an instinct to flinch.

Then Hotch, Elle, and Alexander came in, "Mister Miller, sit down now."

"IS THIS YOUR DADDY!" Eric shouted.

"Actually, I'm her's." Alexander said, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder. “Agent Alexander Noble. Don’t you dare yell at my daughter.”

"I'M DONE TALKING TO YOU PEOPLE!" He shouted.

Zoe finally spoke, speaking as calmly as she usually did, a stark contrast to Eric's emotional screams just a moment ago, "We don't think you're crazy. We work with the Behavior Analysis Unit, we're trained to study the neurological reasonings of criminals. We are psychological profilers." Zoe nodded at Spencer, "Doctor Reid, here, is extremely socially awkward... like there's socially awkward and then several levels up there's Doctor Spencer Reid."

"Zoe." Spencer hissed.

She looked at him and nodded at Eric like, do your thing, superbrain.

"You don't have to talk. Just listen.” Spencer said, “on the—on the occasions you assaulted your wife, you were intoxicated, once the effects of alcohol wore off, you were overcome by feelings of remorse.”

“Which indicates that it’s less of what you truly wanted and more of habitual tendencies you picked up as a child.” Zoe added.

“I’m gonna tell you this just one time, you two shut your mouths!” Eric shouted at them.

“Genetic factors contribute to alcohol stress interactions. Your-your mother was an alcoholic, and she was often too drunk to stop the beatings that your father gave you."

"I think we should stop this." Elle suggested.

"They're not finished." Hotch said.

"They know what they're doing." Alexander said.

"Age six, you were orphaned to a family where the abuse continued, only..." He faltered slightly before continuing, "this time it was sexual."

"None of this was your fault but they made you feel like it was and like you were crazy if you even considered otherwise." Zoe said.

"You both shut your mouths or I'm gonna rip your faces off!" He snapped.

Alexander tensed, giving him a glare at the threat against his "surviving" daughter.

"The abuse continued well into puberty..."

"You became an angry young man, history of violence, drugs, and drinking." Zoe added.

"But my..." He glanced at Zoe, "but our one concern is, Eric, did you or did you not continue the cycle with your own children?"

Eric who had been on the verge of tears this entire time, seemed to be on the verge of breaking down now as he looked at Spencer as if the thought both horrified him but had been one he thought about much too often.

"I never laid a hand on my children. YOU HEAR ME!?"

Spencer nodded and said softly, "I hear you."

"You can't imagine what I saw." He still wasn't opening up. "You can read what I've been through but you can't understand the pain."

They were almost there, Zoe could see it. They just needed one more push. If there was one thing she understood more than criminals or mental health, it was pain caused by trauma and the darkness it inflicts upon someone.

Zoe took a deep breath and leaned forwards, placing her intertwined hands on the table. She spoke calmly but her words were filled with horror and trauma. "My twin sister was born in a hospital three days before me because a deranged madman, that my parents were chasing down, threatened to kill my newborn twin sister, forcing my dad to flee with her, and he kidnapped my mom while she was still in labor with me. He tortured her for days while she was still in labor and then he killed her, just because he could. Because he knew she would put her unborn child with no life above hers. He got off on that kind of thing. Killing pregnant women, letting their fetuses slowly die inside them. My dad found her barely alive with multiple axe wounds to the chest and I had to be delivered via emergency C-section before I died in her womb. Fifteen years later, my dad was a highly esteemed FBI agent and an UnSub who had become obsessed with me kidnapped both me and my sister and put us in different locations. So we would cooperate, becuase he knew we were smart enough to fight back but if the other was on the line, we wouldn't. We'd take whatever he did for the other. I certainly did. He killed people in front of me, he tried to brainwash me, he tried to break me. I managed escape after nearly a year but my sister hasn't been seen since. Every time I look in the mirror because I am nearly identical to her. I see my reflection and all I see is the fact that she's out there and all I have to keep me going is my twintuition that she's still alive which doesn’t exactly appeal to those who aren’t twins or the cold case intuitive or the police, still bound, still gagged, still tortured, waiting to be saved despite being marked a cold case two years ago, and I'm trying to get justice for other families before they end up like my sister, like your wife and kids, to appease my guilt of being the 'lucky' twin. I do know trauma, sir. I do know pain and darkness and heartache. I have been pushed to the brink by murderers and rapists and arsonists and professional torturers. I have been cut, stabbed, burned, starved, drugged, psychologically tortured, physically tortured, and beaten within an inch of my life. I have had every charge of assault committed onto me more times than you dare to believe because of nothing but sheer sadistic enjoyment, they weren't compelled to do it because of a mental illness, they were just sick in the head and misogynistic. I am trauma. I am pain. I am darkness. But most relevantly, I am not like most cops, I don't assume because you're a scary black man with a bad past of abuse and violence that you committed the crime, or that you're about to, while it's not great you were found with the blood on your jacket, you may still be innocent. I know people that are living proof of breaking the cycle of child abuse." Hotch and Alexander. "I just need to hear your side of the story. Your word may allow us to get justice for your children and while we cannot bring them back, we can stop any more children from dying.”

It was silent as everyone but Alexander looked at Zoe in horror and shock at her words as she stared down Eric with intense eye contact that said as much as her words did.

She had sympathy and remorse in her eyes but she kept her facial features calm and professional. Eric could see it. The darkness that infects someone's soul when someone is mercilessly cruel to them even though they had done nothing to deserve that. The darkness that corrupted an innocent life. The pain that remains. The scars that remain on someone's soul long after the physical wounds heal and the physical scars fade. Yet there was light. It was like light shining through cracked glass but it was there because she resolved to remain a good person who was pure at heart but remained a warrior on the outside to keep from getting hurt again.

"I found them like that." He confessed, he dropped his head down as he finally allowed his tears to fall, "Dead. Bloodied." He looked up as his voice broke, "My babies. My sweet, little babies." The guards let him sit back down, "I-I was crazy out of my mind. I didn't know what to do. And I knew the cops were gonna blame me, and they have."

Alexander was behind his daughter again, pulling her into his chest as a hug, holding on tightly to his last baby as if fearful someone would rip her out of his grip.

"So you ran?" Spencer asked.

“Of course he did, his wife had a new husband and the kids had a new father, he had a history of violence including assaulting his wife while intoxicated, they were divorced, he had their blood on his jacket, he has a history of violence before he even met her and he’s an African-American, he's three-point-five times more likely to experience police brutality than white people. Even if the evidence hadn't been stacked against him, he'd be the first one they'd suspect. It's his natural instinct to run from the police even if he didn't do anything wrong. That's why they never caught the Zodiac Killer. They drove past him, assuming that the Zodiac was a black man."

"So what have I got now?"

"You have your innocence. For the sake of your children. I believe that they, at the very least, deserve the truth." Spencer said and he closed the file.

"I can't get the image of my dead children out of my mind." Eric said as Alexander's grip tightened around the only daughter he had left, "Ty, my little boy, he was clutching a-a piece of paper. I think it was a drawing. May-maybe a painting. Please, I'd love to know what he painted, Doctor Reid, Agent Noble-Valdez."

Zoe nodded and followed Spencer out of the interrogation room, walking quickly past him, trying to swallow the emotion she had been holding back down until she nearly walked into a wall, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Of the image of her sister.

Spencer, Hotch, Alexander, and Elle caught up with her, her father pulling her along to walk with them.

"Interesting interrogation techniques." Elle told the young geniuses, "What did you two hope to accomplish?"

"Well, he was closed off, defensive, hostile." Spencer explained. "I needed a way in."

"And you?" Elle asked Zoe.

"He didn't believe we understood his pain, only that we knew of it. He's right, we can't understand his pain, we can only understand our own. He needed to hear my pain. My past. My trauma. He needed to see that I understood pain, that I sympathized with his pain by explaining my pain to him so he could sympathize with me. He needed another broken soul of abuse, trauma, and assault to empathize with him."

"He's suffered a breakdown, but I don't think he killed his family and I know he still loved his wife." Spencer continued as Zoe refused to look at them.

"Why do you say that?" Hotch asked.

"Even though, they were divorced, he still wore the wedding ring." Spencer said.

"And he never said 'ex-wife', he said 'wife'." Zoe added, "And the murders were meticulous and organized depsite the disorganized force. That is due to some aftermath to a delusional, possibly. That man has no delusions. He's been the jail, he's hurt, he's broken, he's a cynic. A realistic cynic. Like I said, police will naturally blame him, he's a black criminal with a history of violence. Any crime he's committed are disorganized and violent in the moment. But he's not broken enough to kill his kids."

—————————————————————————————

Spencer, Alexander, Elle, Morgan and Zoe sat back in the office, staring at the whiteboard with the crime scene photos on it as Gideon stood in front of it, staring at them.

"I believe the UnSub had control over this family. He may have separated each family member. He tells the mother, 'If you scream, I'll kill your children'. He tells the children, 'If you cry, I'll kill Mommy'. The suspect found a way of restraining them without leaving marks." Gideon said, turning back to the team.

"Based on lividity, the ME estimates that the father was the last to die."

"Which means he witnessed the whole event." Alexander said with a heavy sigh, he reached over and stroked his youngest daughter's hair. He wasn't sure he could take that.

"If he did spend time with both families, he must have known he had the time to spend with them." Morgan said.

"Because he knew they were going on vacation." Spencer added.

"Look at travel agents, relatives, work colleagues, contract workers, children's tutors." Gideon said.

The speaker phone beeped and Hotch's voice spoke through it, "Gideon, we've been looking into the Crawford financials."

"Allison Crawford spent way more money than Chris could afford." Garcia said, "They were in major debt."

"And Chris Crawford wrote a number of cheques for a series of visits to a therapist." Hotch added.

"She had two cell phone accounts. One of them billed to a separate address in Southeast Washington, D.C." Garcia said.

"Did you get that?" Hotch asked.

—————————————————————————————

They kicked open the door of the address, very loudly. Hotch and Elle shouted, "Federal Agent" and Morgan shouted "FBI".

The place was a mess but it was familiar. It was familiarly messy. Her mind immediately went to noting a note of neurodivergence. It was the kind of mess her father would create when he would slip from his medication or when the depression would be too much, if he hadn't had Rossi, or Gideon or their significant others, it would be a lot like this.

"It's the cleanest thing in here." Elle said, referring to a blue dog bowl.

Gideon went to a framed drawing on the wall and he took it down.

"What's that?" Elle asked.

"It's a child's painting. It's a colonial house. Mom, dad, two children out front holding hands." Gideon said.

"And a big dog." Zoe noted.

"I think this is the Crawford house, it's signed by Emily.

"Strange." Spencer mused.

"Yeah, Eric Miller said he found his son clutching a painting." Zoe said. "He wanted to know what was on it."

"What was on it?" Elle asked.

"His son's blood." Gideon said.

"Well, I can't tell him that." Zoe said, irritatedly.

There was a sound of nearby clattering and then the sound of presumably Morgan kicking down a door, followed by the barking of a large dog.

"Hey! Hey, don't shoot the dog!" Zoe shouted, running down the hall.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, easy..." A voice said and whistling, calling the dog over.

It was a big man, standing where the shadows covered him.

—————————————————————————————

Zoe say next to Gideon in the interrogation room across from the man they apperhended, Frank Fielding who Zoe deduced had Bipolar disorder.

"Why am I here?" Frank asked.

"I think you know why." Morgan said.

Frank pointed to the drawing, laying on the table, "That's mine.

"The colors indicate a self-confidence with an outgoing personality. It shows an above-average intelligence. The child that painted this was left-handed. Emily Crawford was left-handed." Gideon deduced.

Morgan tossed a paper wad to Frank and Frank instictively caught it with his right hand. "You're not."

"How'd you get the painting, Frank?" Zoe asked and Frank slowly put the paper wad on the table. "Did you forget to take your meds today, Frank? For a severe manic-depressive, that's not good. My dad has it too."

"They make me feel wrong!" Frank protested.

"Wrong enough to kill the Crawfords?" Morgan asked.

Frank looked up and then back down. He seemed... hurt.

"Frank?" Zoe asked.

I-I did a-a bad thing." Frank stuttered.

"What did you do?" Zoe asked.

"I shouldn't have gone to the house. Allison told me not to. I would never, never hurt Allie. She's the only family I've got." Frank said.

"Family?" Morgan asked.

"She's my sister." Frank said, his voice broke as he repeated, "She's dead. She's dead." He was clearly in mourning. "He killed them. Chris did. I know he did it.

"What bad thing did you do?" Zoe asked, gently.

"The rule was, I was never supposed to go to the house. That was the only rule. Allison said if Chris saw me he would never let me see her again. He was gonna lock me up in the loony bin." Frank said. "He never liked me.

"You went to the house."

"She said she couldn't visit me any more. I just wanted to see her. Seeing Allison made everything better. But they cut my phone off that day. The day I went to see them, they cut my phone off!" He started to get angry, "I never would've gone to the house if they hadn't cut off the phone!"

Behind the glass, Alexander said, "Sounds like Zelena's family." Some hadn't liked him very much due to his disorder.

"There's no way this guy could've gotten into the house without a key. Knowing how Chris Crawford felt about his brother-in-law, do you see him having one?" Elle asked.

"No." Hotch said.

"Frank, you went to the house. What did you do?" Gideon asked Frank.

"It was dark and cold. I went around to the side, to look through the window. My breath steamed up the glass and I wiped it clean. And I could see them sitting down for dinner. I saw Emily and Sam... and Sam was crying. I guess he was in trouble."

"Did you see Allison?" Gideon asked.

"Yes. She was saying grace over the table and then... she looked up and saw me and she mouthed something at me. I think it was, 'Get the hell out'. So I left."

"Did Chris see you?" Gideon asked.

"No, he wasn't there, but a friend was at the head of the table." Frank recalled.

"You said, a friend?" Morgan asked.

"I saw someone." Frank nodded.

"What did this person look like?" Morgan asked.

"I didn't see their face, but tiny, really tiny."

"White or black, Frank?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know, but..." Frank said.

"What?" Morgan said, urgently.

"The hair, it-it-it was red." Frank recalled.

It wasn't Chris at the table.

If Frank saw them that day, it wasn't Chris Crawford at the table. She wasn't saying, "Go away." She was saying, "Help me."

Frank seemed to realize this too, "It-it wasn't a friend."

"Frank." Zoe said, gently.

"It wasn't a friend at all. It was him. He's the one who killed them." Guilt overcame Frank at the realization he could've helped.

"Frank."

"I-I-I-I..."

"Frank..." Zoe said, getting up, sensing a meltdown.

"No! No! No!" Frank started to hit himself in the head.

"Frank, stop." Gideon said.

"Frank, Frank." Morgan said.

Quickly, they pushed Frank against the wall and Hotch came in to help.

"No, No! No!"

"Frank!" Zoe grabbed onto Frank's arms, shouting louder than the team had heard before. "FRANK! CALM DOWN! CHILL THE EFF OUT!" She pushed him against the wall, her being the youngest, still really a child, at barely twenty years old, calmed him down slightly, enough to look at her in shock as she spoke loudly on the verge of yelling, saying each word slowly but not in a patronizing way like most people did but so it could sink in and calm him down, "Calm. Down. You hitting yourself in the head is not going to do anything. There was nothing you could've done. You didn't know. We can still catch that bastard and give Allison, and Chris, and Emily and Sam the justice they deserve and keep this bastard from hurting anymore families. He will pay for what he did to your family."

He started to sob, brokenly.

—————————————————————————————

Frank was committed out of fear of further self-harm and possible suicide due to the realization and him not taking his medications.

"Both families had a dog and both houses had a dog door." Morgan said, pointing to the board."

"Fielding said that the person he saw was small.

"Yeah, well, in order to get through that door, you'd have to be five-four, tops and real thin." Zoe said, shrugging but didn't say anymore as that was classified.

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Gideon quoted.

"Sherlock Holmes was a fictional character. Whoever did this isn't."

"Sherlock Holmes was based on a real person." Zoe said, "We can be pretty sure he's probably found himself another family by now."

When they left the room, Zoe was holding Emily's picture, looking at it.

"You okay?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah, just... I know an Emily." She said.

"Oh."

"Doctor Joseph Bell." Zoe said suddenly.

"What?"

"The person Sherlock Holmes was based on. Gideon read them to me when I was a kid. This guy's no Moriarty." Zoe said. "And isn't that quote just behavioral profiling in a nutshell.

—————————————————————————————

"He's been looking at those pictures all morning." Elle said, referring to Gideon. She looked at Zoe at her desk who was staring at pictures of Emily Crawford's drawings with headphones on, somehow simutaniously lost in thought and fully focused "And so has Zoe."

"Well, I sure hope they see a connection, because I've checked doctors, lawyers, travel agents, tutors, contract workers... I got nothing." Morgan said.

"Why target those families?" Elle asked.

"Well, to know that, we have to know how." Hotch said. "Reid, tell Zoe to pause her audiobook."

"Why do I have to do it?" Spencer frowned.

"Because last time Morgan did it, she nearly broke his wrist." Hotch deadpanned.

Spencer took a piece of Dove chocolate—Zoe had gotten him a giant bag for snacking since he often forgot to eat and threw it at her, it missed by a foot but her hand still shot out and she grabbed it. She looked up and he motioned for her to take her headphones off. She did so.

"All right, we know organised killers are often skilled workers with above-average intelligence." Morgan said, getting up from his chair as Zoe unwrapped the chocolate, "A high birth status, and in most cases, male. In the workplace, he's socially confident. And with women, sexually competent. Every offence is pre-planned. Targeting the victim is almost as pleasurable as the actual kill. These guys, they're meticulous. It's a compulsion. Everything has to have its proper place. They do exhaustive amounts of research on their victims. They watch their every move. Every last detail is observed. Everything has to be written ever so neatly in a book or possibly a journal. Like when the kids are coming home from school, when Daddy will be home. Playtime, suppertime, bath time, bedtime. Plan the work, work the plan. This is the way that he maintains control. It's also how he personalises his target. So, nothing's left to chance and absolutely nothing is left out of place. Ever. So, he plans the work. And when he's good and ready, he works that plan. He takes great pride in his job." He sat back down. "I think the workplace has to be the connection."

Gideon came up to them, holding two pictures of a house they had found one with no color in the Crawford's house and one with color they had found in Frank's possession.

"Both are by Emily. Painted months apart. This one... is full of color, life. The one I found at Emily's house has lines, dimensions. No color. I believe Emily was coerced to make this."

"It's a point of view." Zoe realized, kicking her wheelie chair over to him to take the colorless picture, too lazy to get up. "It's his point of view. It must be where the killer stood and just watched the family."

She gave the picture a rather disturbed look, like she was remembering something unpleasant. She was. So Alexander took it from her, she shook her head and rolled back to her previous spot.

Hotch spun a wedding ring on the table, "each of the dead husbands was missing his wedding ring. This is the UnSub's trophy."

"He targets a family because he lost his own." Alexander realized. "For a few days, he gets to play daddy."

"And he can do whatever he wants because no one's gonna come lookin' because they're supposed to be on vacation." Morgan added.

"Let's get forensics to check the inside of Chris Crawford's clothing. The suspect may have worn the father's clothes to..." Gideon scoffed at the word, "Complete the fantasy."

"But why kill them?" Elle asked.

"'Cause the fantasy can't last." Zoe said, darkly.

"What did you say about Miller having no delusions?" Hotch asked.

Before Zoe could reply, Spencer spoke in automatic monotone 'And the murders were meticulous and organized depsite the disorganized force. That is due to some aftermath to a delusional, possibly. That man has no delusions'."

"Zoe, you saw it."

"When the delusion breaks, it can anger them. Make them kill."

"Do we know anything that actually helps us identify this bastard?" Elle asked.

"Wait a minute," Morgan said and looked at a picture of the deceased Crawford family. "Chris Crawford worked for the I.R.S. and Reese Miller was a secretary at the GAO."

"That makes them both government employees."

—————————————————————————————

Zoe and Spencer went to Garcia's lab to assist her.

"We've got to stop meeting like this, Reid. People will talk." Garcia teased. "But then, talk is cheap."

"Yeah, I hear H.R.'s considering another sexual harrassment meeting based off your banter with Morgan alone." Zoe deadpanned.

She pulled up a chair with a big bag of chocolates in her lap.

"Talk's not cheap when you're talking to a therapist. The Crawfords made twelve weekly payments to the Applewood Family Center. What about the Millers?" Spencer asked and took a chocolate that Zoe was offering him.

Garcia brought up the Millers' bank records, "No, nothing here."

"How about pharmaceuticals? No one gets therapy these days without a healthy dose of medication." Spencer said.

"What're you implying, Reid?" Garcia asked.

"That everyone is medicated." Spencer said, blankly.

Garcia just looked over, "Did you just make a joke?"

"No." He said, blankly, "Statistics. They show that..."

"Reid, next time, just say 'yes', okay?" Garcia interrupted.

"Well, he's right before you so rudely interrupted him. After I was kidnapped, Dad tried to make me do children's therapy and but I instead defied everything the therapist said and Gideon's wife suggested PTSD medication."

"You were kidnapped when you were twelve?" Garcia asked, aghast.

"I don't remember any of it. And it's not the time for me to remember it." Zoe said, sharply as if trying to drill that into their brains and she didn't want to talk about it.

"Now, medication normally requires a reimbursement from the HMO and since she works for the government like we do, we share the same health care provider." Garcia said as Zoe took out her phone and started to hack Garcia's computer as ease.

"Are you hacking into the government's HMO database?" Spencer asked. "Is that legal?"

"Of course not. We'll both go to prison and you'll be someone's bitch." Garcia said. Oh, how she will regret that in twelve years. As a certain someone really rubs that in.

"Really?" Spencer asked, blankly.

"Mmm. If that ever happens, I think you'll feel like the bitch yourself. Having been to prison myself, I know you wouldn't last a week, Garcia. That's why you took this job. They don't allow unicorns." Zoe deadpanned and then she slapped Garcia's hands.

"Hey!"

"I'm a medical doctor, Garcia, unlike Mister three-PhDs here. I have access." Zoe said, typing on her phone and it brought up the HMO database on Garcia's computer.

"How'd you do that?"

"I hacked into your computer." Zoe said, blankly.

"When?" Garcia asked, seeming floored.

"Uh, like twenty seconds ago." Zoe said, "You are aware I'm the one who caught you and made the profile when you were a criminal and goth, right?

"No! How'd you do that so easily?"

"I'm a better hacker, I guess. And who do you think was the technical analysis before you? Only you get paid and as I was a child, I was not. I know these computers as well as a UnSub's mind. Look."

Zoe had been controlling the computer remotely and Garcia saw it and chose to let go for the time but to complain about it at length to Morgan later.

"Good call, Reid. Mrs. Reese Miller, Diazepam."

"Who prescribed the meds?" Spencer asked.

"Doctor R. Howard at the Applewood Family Center. Let's find out what he looks like. Here we go." A picture of a woman came up. "Doctor Howard isn't a 'he'."

"Thanks, Garcia." Zoe said, sarcastically.

"Well, how about I hack into your file!" Garcia said, pettily and then attempted to but like with most of the FBI files, they were wiped clean. "What!? How!?"

Zoe patted her on the head and walked out of the office. Spencer watched her walk out.

—————————————————————————————

Hotch, Morgan, Alexander, and Gideon went to Doctor Howard's place of work and learned the the UnSub's name was Karl Arnold.

"Of course." Zoe sighed.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"He was the child therapist I went to. He had me draw houses but there was something off about him. So naturally I sassed and defied him as much as I could. I kept drawing upside down houses or ones from books or H.H. Holmes' murder hotel. " Zoe said.

—————————————————————————————

Zoe met up with Gideon and Morgan at the next family's house, the Dunkins, on her motorcycle. The SWAT used a thermal camera to see into the house through the closed curtains. "We've got three adults and two children sitting at the dining room table. They moved in, stealthily and they kicked the door in.

"FBI! FBI!"

Jackie, the young daughter ran into the mother's arms and the mother cried, "He's got my baby!" The father was all bound and gagged.

"Ma'am, is he alone?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, he is!"

"Where's the basement?" Gideon asked.

"Under the stairs!"

Zoe took off running even when the lights went off, Karl's doing no doubt. She opened the door beneath the stairs and walked down without the flashlight. There was enough light coming through the window from her. Gideon and Morgan soon followed

"Karl? Karl, it's the FBI." Morgan called through the darkness.

He nearly jumped when he shined it on Zoe's face.

"What the... why didn't you have a flashlight?"

"Don't need it." She said, moving through the darkness of the basement.

Suddenly she clicked the flashlight on and spun around, shining the light on Karl Arnold who shushed them as he swaddled the baby, smirking.

"Karl, why don't you give me the baby?" Zoe said, calmly, approaching as she was the smallest, youngest, and less intimidating-looking, it had been years since she saw him. She saw him when she was twelve but he had creeped her out so she left to return to Harvard where her best school friend had helped more than any therapist had, and you couldn't really argue with her because she was held captive for eight months

"Karl? Please."

Karl glared at her as she approached slowly, side-stepping, he recognized her but she had to try.

That's odd, she noted, the baby wasn't crying. Her eyes darted down and she spotted him smothering the baby. He was suffocating him.

"Karl, get your hand off the baby's mouth." She said with more authority, a note of danger in her tone.

He slowly did so and the baby started to cry.

"Okay, good. Karl, look at me. I'm gonna put my gun away... and I want you to hand me that baby." She said gently as the baby screamed and cried.

Karl slowly stood back up as Zoe holstered her gun at the same speed and held out her arms, approaching slowly. "Give me the baby."

Then he got a deadly glint in his eyes and threw the baby at them.

"NO!" Zoe screamed and caught the baby as Karl went to fight. He brandished a knife at Morgan as Zoe handed the screaming baby to Gideon and she took out her gun.

BANG!

The bullet grazed Karl's neck.

"The next one stays in you." She threatened.

"You look familiar." He said with a somewhat mockingly curious lilt of his voice.

"Stay there."

"Have I treated you before?" He pretended to remember, "Xiomara or are you Zarah? Both left the house in February of 2001, didn't come back home to your FBI daddy."

"Shut up." She growled.

"You showed up eight months later, thinner and paler than you were before, cut and bloodied but your sister... never found. You never accepted that she was dead because of you."

Morgan slammed Karl against the wall by the throat, "You move or say one more word to her and I will break your neck."

—————————————————————————————

Zoe arrived back at the BAU before them in time, to set up the board just as Gideon had asked and wait for them.

Morgan angrily clutched the chained Karl's arm as they directed him out of the elevator.

"How'd you get here so fast?" He asked.

"Motorcycle."

"You shouldn't ride a motorcycle. They're death machines." Karl said with mocking sincerity.

"Shut up!" Morgan hissed at him, yanking him past Zoe who followed.

He was friendly to everyone he saw as if he hadn't just tried to smother a baby but they all stared at him. When he got to the glaring JJ he asked, "How are you?"

"Keep it moving." Morgan said, pulling him past JJ and Zoe and Gideon stopped

"Did he say anything?" JJ asked.

"No." Gideon said.

"Nothing helpful." Zoe said.

"Can we tie him forensically to the other crimes?" Gideon asked.

Negative on foreign DNA. He must've washed Crawford's clothes." JJ sighed.

"Then we'll need a confession." Zoe said.

"Can you get one?" JJ asked.

"Did you do what I asked?" Gideon asked Zoe.

"Yeah. He won't be able to help himself." Zoe said and went to join Morgan.

—————————————————————————————

Zoe and Gideon sat across from Karl in the interrogation room while Morgan stood.

"Emily Crawford was a very talented and gifted girl. Her brother Sam, a bright, energetic child. You watched them from the yard for days, maybe even weeks. You learned everything about them. You studied their every move and then you wrote it all down." Gideon said but Karl seemed more interested in staring at the board Zoe had set up.

"May I have a glass of water?" Karl asked.

"Something wrong?" Zoe asked with no politeness in her voice.

"No, I'm just thirsty."

"Water, please." Gideon told Morgan.

Karl held up his shackled hands, "could you remove my shackles? I'm clearly no threat to you."

"Do you think we're stupid? They stay on. You just killed two families and were about to kill another and you threw a one-year-old baby at us." Zoe scoffed.

A uniformed officer handed Morgan a cup of water and he placed it in front of Karl.

"You chose families that reminded you of the one you lost." Gideon said as Karl drank his water.

"You stalked them. You bound them. You terrorized them. And once you knew if they weren't seen soon, people would get suspicious, so you killed them, one by one, making the dads watch so they would suffer, watching their families leave them like you did. " Zoe said, "We have your journals. Your serial killer memoirs. You aren't the only one who learned about me during our sessions, even at twelve I was a pretty damn good detective."

"It's my job..." Karl sighed, "to write everything down. To get to know them. I can't help them solve their problems without knowing background. And I make home visits... sometimes without their knowledge because people lie. You, of all people, should know that."

"Yeah, well, you're supposed to talk with them until they understand their emotions and open up to you, you don't stalk them. Sometimes people aren't aware of the psychological trauma and toxicity families can inflict on one another." Zoe said.

Gideon held up a picture of the Miller family and then of the Crawford family.

Karl nodded and looked pointedly at the first family he had killed, "Eric Miller was a terrible husband and father. Allison Crawford hemorrhaged money her husband didn't have. It can strain any marriage."

"That doesn't mean they had to die." Zoe said, darkly.

Gideon held up a picture of Karl with his wife and his kids, he got a somewhat annoyed look in his sociopathic eyes like, are we really bringing my family up? Isn't the psychology of what I did and its connection to my family close enough.

"On the surface, this looks like any family, USA. Two parent households, two kids, a boy and a girl. If you look a little closer, you'll see their body language tells a different story." Karl seemed to be increasingly annoyed at them pointing out the flaws of his failed marriage, "the woman and children are distant from the man. Their smiles are stiff. Their eyes are frightened. Every hair is in place, wearing their Sunday best, their own private hell being memorialized on film."

"Eric wasn't perfect at being a husband but he grew up with constant abuse from his biological and foster parents. That normalized violence in his subconscious mind and only came out when he was drunk. Sure, it's a shitty thing to do but that's what therapy is for. Not with therapists like you, good ones who didn't murder people because he judged them. He never hurt his kids. He loved his kids and because of you, not only did he grow up with constant abuse and feeling no love but he's forever traumatized with the images of finding his son and his daughter's bloodied bodies. You put him through what you went through but worse. Your children are still alive but you hurt them with your obsessiveness and need for control." Zoe monologued, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"What about your mother? You never had a mother figure."

"I don't hold a family hostage to make up for the mother who died because of someone like you."

He looked at the photos and squirmed uncomfortably but not from what he had done but from what Zoe had done... with the pictures.

"You okay?" Gideon asked.

"It isn't right."

"What isn't?"

"YOU'VE GOT THE PICTURES MIXED UP!" He screamed. "The one in the middle. That is Sam Crawford's. It should be Ty Miller's! You need... to swap them. You need to make it right."

Zoe recalled Clara's OCD and how Karl's matched up with the symptoms just as she previously theorized.

Gideon stood up and pointed to the picture of Sam Crawford's corpse's child-like foot. "This one here?"

"What the hell have I been trying to tell you?" Karl scoffed as if they were the insane ones when he held families hostage, pretending to be their "daddy" to compensate for the marriage he screwed up.

"You're right. They're switched." Gideon admitted with more calmness than Karl. "This is Sam Crawford's foot with the Miller family. But how did you know that, Karl?"

He looked at Zoe who gave him an innocent look. She had switched them, knowing he would have the near uncontrollable urge to correct them. He had confessed to the crime because they had no concrete proof that he had killed the Crawfords and Millers as he was going to do to the Dunkens. So he explained as they recorded him.

"And I watched them for a number of days, always at night. Saw how they lived. How they loved. I would keep them apart... until the last night. Till the last supper. Then I would bring them one by one. Down to the basement." As he spoke J.J. switched the photos on their board, according to the serial killer's confession, "The youngest first." He looked at Zoe, who had been the youngest of her family before it got messed up. "The father last."

"Why, Karl?" Morgan asked.

"So he could see..." His voice broke but not out of remorse but out of hurt of the ending of his family, "What happens to families when the head of the household... isn't strong. Wives wither. Children perish." JJ and Gideon started to pack up the crime evidence. "But me? I'm an excellent father.

"One family member isn't the strongest. There is no Alpha. They're strongest together. Strong where they're weak, Karl. Omegas don't last long alone but as a pack, that's how they're at their strongest." Zoe said.

—————————————————————————————

Hotch had found tapes of more than the two families, not only were there the Miller family, the Crawford family, but also the Ness family and the Linford family, and the Kegan family.

In a rusted box were the trophies...

They all sat at a table that the box laid on and Gideon emptied the box onto the table, revealing eight wedding rings. Six families they weren't aware of. This comes out to thirty-two victims if he kept the same M.O., and half of them were children.

—————————————————————————————

*Sorry, this is super late to my like zero fans of this work but I like this story and Zoe will evolve as a character and so will her relationship with Spencer... very slowly. At first, I was nervous about this chapter, I guess because of the content, this was the first Criminal Minds episode that really affected me because I had watched crime shows before but like, Lucifer, the Flash, etc. When kids were in danger, they always survived in the end but I guess that's one of the things that makes Criminal Minds different. Then I had to email my college because I hadn't been accepted yet and by the time he had accepted me, it was too late to enroll so I took another class at community college and then that class started but then a few weeks in, I was dropped because the financial aid study thing I was taking, general had been recently dropped and I had like no warning about it. Then we decided I'd just do other things for class like online and then the Mothman Festival came up and I had tickets to go see Watcher Ghost Files Live and that was just a few days ago. I've continued writing, I'm almost done with Unfinished Business and then I just forgot I hadn't been posting them. *

#the eccedentiast #david tennant #selena gomez #criminal minds #spencer reid #2005 #valentía #zoe noble-valdez #aaron “hotch” hotchner #derek morgan #Karl Arnold #The Fox #Penelope Garcia #jason gideon #November 2005 #Xiomara Noble-Valdez

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symbiotic-slime · 3 months ago

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short drabble for @venomfest’s prompt for a couple weeks ago: Heat Stroke!

Eddie’s skin burned underneath the desert sun. He banged, his mouth and throat drying out with each breath of hot air he took. His lips cracked, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like water clinging to flour. His skin was hot and dry to the touch, as if the sweat had been evaporating off of his body since he stepped into the sun.

He and Venom had broken out of the government base they were tortured in. It was sequestered in the middle of a sprawling desert, with nothing but miles and miles of sand surrounding them.

“Shit.” Eddie had not contemplated what their plan was after they had escaped and gotten the officials off of their trail, but it’s not like they could’ve done anything to prevent this. It’s not like he could’ve snagged some plastic water bottles while he ran from the government officials. They had to take the one chance they had to escape, the one gap in the guard’s shift that happened after Venom pickpocketed the key off of the guard who had brought them their meal. Of course their chance to escape came in the middle of the afternoon, as the sun reared its ugly head and the temperature outside soared.

Well, he was fucked.

“Eddie?” Venom asked, their tendrils nervously twining around his body underneath his clothes.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s face scrunched as he dragged one foot in front of the other. His head throbbed with each movement, an ache spreading from the back of his neck and constricting around his eyes.

“We do not mean to alarm you, but your body’s temperature regulation is not functioning properly. The heat around us is making it hard for us to maintain our internal body temperature at optimal levels. We can shield your cells from damage, but we do not know if that will prevent you from feeling the effects of heat exposure.”

“Oh yay, heat stroke. That’s what we needed right now.” Eddie groaned. “Can you do anything about the pain?”

“We can try, but your brain is rather delicate. We do not want to tamper too much when the consequences could be devastating.”

The pain in his head lessened, the ache becoming dull instead of all-consuming.

Eddie’s eyes closed and he sighed. Moving wasn’t painful anymore, it didn’t feel like he was a bobble head being tossed around by an overeager child. “That’s already super helpful, dear. Thank you.”

Venom trilled. “It is no problem, Eddie.” Their tendrils curled around his neck, a cool and gentle weight settling over his collarbones and shoulders.

He continued to trek through the desert. Eddie narrowed his focus to the next step he had to take, to the ways his feet sank into the loose sand beneath him. If he thought about anything else, he would spiral. The nearest city was still hours away by foot, and the sun was directly overhead. Relief wouldn’t come for a long time.

The fatigue set on after what felt like an eternity to Eddie. His steps became sluggish, each blink felt heavier than the last. His mouth burned, desperate for any liquid that would satiate his thirst.

“V, babe, can you do anything about dehydration?” Eddie asked.

“We can do a couple of things,” Venom replied. “We can reabsorb your sweat and filter your urine to add that water back into our bloodstream, but unfortunately we cannot do more. We cannot supplement your body’s water supply.”

Eddie sighed, resigned. “Awesome. Well, you may need to control my body for a while. My brain is fighting with my body and not letting me move.”

Venom’s tendrils moved around Eddie’s legs, relieving Eddie’s muscles of the anguish of walking. “We are sorry we cannot do more for you, Eddie.”

“It’s okay, Venom. We’ll get through it,” Eddie affirmed not only to Venom but to himself. “We’ve got miles to go before we sleep.”

#venom #eddie brock #venom symbiote #symbrock #venom fanfiction

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holesandlividity · 2 years ago

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Guardian Angel: J.Miller x Reader

Chapter I: Welcome to the Family

Overall Summary: After traveling alone for so long you were on the brink of death, no. You were ready and prepared to die. You knew your luck had to run out eventually and you had come to terms with it, until fate or whatever you call it decided that you still had some lady luck on your side. Hiding in an abandoned Hotel full of infected that’s when you meet him. Joel Miller a total pain in your ass and a man full of secrets you were dying to unravel.

Chapter Summary: Tired and ready to give up you hid away in an abandoned Hotel when an unexpected “helping” hand comes along.

Warnings: Mentions of death, guns, typical TLOU violence

W.C: 1.24k

You didn’t know why it happened or what you even did to deserve it- him. What you did know however, is that Joel Miller must have been a blessing straight from the heavens above.

The sun shown, no it beat down on you. The heat was unforgiving and the sweat was sticky, salty, and uncomfortable. You were gross and tired and so incredibly hot, you had run out of water about an hour ago and you had no way to quench your thirst, the sweat your licked off your upper lip doing nothing to help your dehydrated state.

You had been on the run for about a month now, ever since your quarantine zone had been taken over by hunters and bandits and your legs could barely carry you any further, you debated taking off the hefty bag you carried on your shoulders and leaving it somewhere for even an inkling of relief but you knew that was a death wish.

Maybe that’s exactly what you were waiting for though. For the sweet relief of death to carry you in its arms as if you weighed nothing at all. Wether it was from a heat stroke or those god damned infected you didn’t care it’s not like you really had time to be picky when thinking about how you would meet your demise.

And suddenly there he was, all worn around the edges, and a bit mean but also kind. He reminded you of an espresso flavored cake, bitter but soft.

He had found you hiding in an old abandoned hotel, at first you hid from him. As soon as you heard his voice, all deep and southern your mind jumped to the conclusion that he was a hunter coming to collect the meat right off your tired bones.

Before you knew it the door to the bathroom you were hiding in was practically torn off it’s hinges and all at once a gun, flashlight, and tall figure were directly in your face. You’ve been shot at before sure, but looking down the barrel of a gun head on was a completely different experience. At least if you were to die by his hands it would be quick.

“Who the fuck are you?” Bitter. And then-

“Are you hurt?” Sweet.

You felt like a deer in headlights, it had been an entire month since you were actually face to face with someone. You had half the sense to convince yourself right then and there that he was God himself ready to welcome you to heaven. And then it hit you this wasn’t God and you most certainly were not going to heaven. This man was real and breathing and above all alive.

“No, no I’m not hurt,” Not physically anyways. “could you please lower the gun and flashlight I think you’re going to blind me here soon.”

He didn’t move a single inch, hell it didn't even look like he was breathing in that moment. “At least put the fucking light down for god’s sake.” He was giving you a headache and that stupid light prevented you from seeing anything in front of you.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be tellin’ me what to do right now.” ‘Maybe I should just beg him to shoot me, get it over with already. I’m dead anyways if not by his hands then by the teeth and hands of all the infected on the third floor.’

Holy shit the third floor.

“I can help you get out of here.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you by the way his finger moves a single inch closer to the trigger.

“Please! I swear to god. I know the way out of here.”

“Then why haven’t you left already?”

It was a logical question you knew that but maybe if he took even a second to see the fucking position you and your supplies were in. “Because I was waiting for prince fucking charming to come along and save me duh.”

“There ain’t no prince’s around these parts, you know that right?”

“Clearly.” You mumble to yourself, “but seriously I don’t have enough ammo to get myself out of here otherwise I would’ve been long gone. Only way to the other side is the third floor and it’s loaded with all kinds of infected. By the looks of it you have more than enough bullets to take a couple of them out.”

“What’s the catch?” You hadn’t thought about receiving anything in return, the fact that he would be helping you get out of here should’ve been enough. Key word, should’ve.

“First, you get that fucking gun out of my face like I asked you to earlier. Secondly, for the love of god some water would be nice. And lastly, you let me travel with you for a while until I can find somewhere safe. And I mean actually safe, to the point where I don’t have to fight for my life every goddamned second I spend on this earth.”

“I like her already.” A lighter more feminine voice rang through the air, definitely belonging to a child.

“Who the hell is that?” The young girl introduced herself as Ellie before the man shoved her in the next room over. The fact that he had a kid with him helped ease some of your worries about him shooting you right in the face.

He thought about it for a second, maybe even two before finally lowering his weapon. “I can guarantee the water you asked for,” He said while rummaging through his bag before pulling out a beat up metal bottle. “But I can’t promise you somewhere safe, at least not as safe as you’re wanting it to be.”

“Somewhere safe, someone safe I don’t give a damn just take me somewhere other than here for the love of fuck.”

He could do that and kill two birds with one stone, drop both you and Ellie off with Tommy in Wyoming. “Deal.” He stated before giving you the bottle filled with water and offering you a hand up.

“The name’s Joel by the way. Joel Miller.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel tlou #tlou series #ellie tlou #ellie williams #pedro pascal #hbo's the last of us

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glitterslittleuniverse · 1 year ago

Text

Game Caterers x HYBE (ep 1-2)

A chatty and weird green light is on in HYBE

While everyone went back to their tents the crew members began moving four large cooler boxes into the field along with a table with cups of Iced Americano. The artists chatted among themselves, discussing what the first game could possibly be. From her tent at the end, Lumina watched closely as the staff set up in front of them. She looked at the cooler boxes scatted around the field, trying to figure out what PD Na would possibly have in store for the first game.

“What is your plan, Mr. Na? What are you thinking?” Lumina leant her elbows on the table, resting her head on her intertwined fingers as she watched the producer on the other side of the field. Her team mates laughed at the dramatic tone of voice she was using once again.

“Now let’s begin the first game.” PD Na announced, grabbing the attention of all the teams. “Isn’t it hot today?” A chorus of ‘yes’s’ came form the artists, waiting to hear what the game is. “It’s so hot today. But you only have some bottles of lukewarm water to prevent you from dehydration. Do you see the cooler behind you?”

“Yes.”

“Please open it.”

“It’s empty!” Beomgyu and Huening Kai called back to the producer.

“There’s nothing inside.” Confirmed PD Na. “This game is to fill your cooler.” Team’s cheered, happy to get something other then water to cool them down. “If you don’t do well in this game, in weather like today you might end up breaking up your band.”

“We renewed our contract only recently.” Members of Seventeen called out from their tent making Na and the other artists laugh at their sudden announcement.

“The first game is Red HYBE Green HYBE. You’ll all stand inside the semicircle over there. You walk forward when the tagger says green HYBE.” PD Na explains the game. “There are four coolers, a coffee station and water. Pick various items to quench your thirst. Do not get caught by the tagger. Do you see the yellow finish line?” He pointed at the yellow line at the end of the field. “If you pass that finish line, what's in your hands is yours. Do you understand?” The teams nodded in understanding.

“It’s worth trying,” said Baekho, “You just go for it without getting caught.”

“I want coffee.” Minhyun said, eyeing the table of coffee from is seat.

“Me too.”

Lumina didn’t even hear what they were saying. In her head she was planning her route from cooler to cooler, not wanting to miss a single one.

Her mission planning was interrupted when she heard cheering coming from the other tents. PD Na had just announced that Seungkwan would be the tagger.

“Let me ask you a question.” Na inquired. “Let’s say Seventeen moved. Are you going to let it slide because they’re your team?”

At this question, other teams make sounds of disapproval.

“Don’t worry.” Seungkwan reassured everyone. “I love them less then other artists here.” His statement caused laughter from the others while Dino nodded, agreeing with Seungkwan’s statement.

“Then we won’t be able to find anyone better then him.” Concluded Na PD. “Seungkwan, please come forward and play the tagger.”

His team cheered for him as he moved towards the finish line to be the tagger. The fromis_9 members cheered for him as he passed them. Jiheon called out “you’re good looking!” making him a bit shy. From their tent, Team TT could here their cheering. They laughed at the situation.

“He likes hearing that.” Baekho said. “He likes hearing he’s good looking.”

“He really is though.” Lumina watched Seungkwan across the field, eyes full of admiration for the older idol.

“Please gather at the starting line.” Instructed PD Na.

Teams started making their way towards the start line, chatting amongst them selves, coming up with strategies.

Lumina stood at the end of the line with the rest of her team. While they were talking about what to do, Lumina has busy greeting the members of Seventeen who were standing next to her. Then the TXT members appeared and she greeting them by hugging each of them.

“I finally get so say hi.” She said as she let go of Beomgyu. “I sit so far away from you.” she pouted. Yeonjun laughed and ruffled her bangs affectionately only for Beomgyu to swot his hand away and fix her hair.

“Is everyone here?” Called Seungkwan from the finish line, turning around to take a look at everyone at the start line. “Yes. Organize your bangs and wipe your sweat.”

“START ALREADY!!!!!” Yelled Mingyu, getting impatient.

“Okay.” said Seungkwan, turning his back to the artists. “I’ll make the first one long so you can move at ease. I’ll begin.”

Little did Seungkwan know that while he was talking the teams started moving behind him. Lumina sprinted for the first cooler on her right. She couldn't quite make it there before Seungkwan turned around and everyone froze. Lumina almost collided with Yeonjun, who suddenly appeared right next to her. She stumbled a little but thankfully Seungkwan didn’t notice. “Yah!!!” She whisper yelled at Yeonjun, “What’s wrong with you?!” Yeonjun only laughed.

Seungkwan turned around again and they all moved. Lumina got to the cooler the same time as Yeonjun and Jake. Jake flipped the lid off to reveal cans of soda inside. Yeonjun immediately put his hands inside at the same moment Seungkwan called red HYBE. “Cold cold cold.” he repeated, his hands in the cold ice. Lumina laughed next to him. Serves you right for almost tripping me earlier. she thought.

When they were clear to move, she crouched down to pick up a can. She would get up to make her quick escape towards the next cooler but she was trapped by Jay standing behind her, leaning over her to get some soda and Yeonjun and Jake on either side. Realizing she was stuck in the middle she let out a sigh, she looked at everyone in their frozen positions. Around the one cooler, Yeonjun and Huening Kai of TXT and also Jay, Jake, Sunghoon and Jungwon of Enhypen, all scanning with their eyes which soda to take. “This is a bit awkward.” she said, causing the boys around her to stifle their laughs.

“Sorry Lu.” Jay said from above her. He clearly hadn’t thought the situation through when he reached over her. Now they were stuck.

“It’s okay.” she replied slightly glancing up at him. “I should have went for a different box.”

Meanwhile the next time Seungkwan turned around he eliminated Jiheon and Mingyu. When it was clear everyone around the soda can box plunged their hands in only to be frozen in their positions once again. Can already in hand, Lumina held it close to her body which was starting to ache from crouching for too long. “This is too crowded.” said Soobin, who was frozen close by.

“I want Americano.” mumbled Yeonjun.

The group around the cooler started to break up the next time Seungkwan turned away. Lumina took this opportunity to pick up three more cans for her team mates. Jay moved a little to let her out but it seemed her legs didn’t have enough strangth to get up. “Oppa, help.” She looked up at Taehyun who had appeared where Jake was once standing. He offered her his hand and she took it. He started to pull her up when Seungkwan turned around and everyone froze once again. Taehyun quickly held her arm with his other hand to keep her steady, not fully on her feet. Holding all her cans in one arm, Lumina cringed at the feeling of the cold metal on her skin, her eyes on the tagger. The moment he turned away Lumina stood up. She looked over the field and was surprised to see most of the players were already close to the finish line. From where she was standing she could see that the other coolers had been pretty much emptied and the coffee table was being carried by Joshua, Hoshi, Hayoung and Nagyung.

“I stayed there too long.” she cried to herself. Her mission to visit every cooler seemed pointless now, so she decided to just make her way towards the finish line with her cans of soda. She speed walked towards the finish but stopped halfway when Seungkwan turned around. Getting closer and closer to the finish, Lumina saw the coffee table team make it past the line. Moving forward again, she stopped right behind Yeonjun, who looked like he was struggling holding all his cans. “Oppa be careful.”

But right after she said it, Yeonjun run the last steps to the finish line. He practically tripped over the line the moment Seungkwan turned.

“Buzzer beater.” Seungkwan said, willing to let him pass.

“Yeonjun you’re out.” PD Na laughed.

Lumina finally crossed the line with four cans of soda in her hands. She stood at the line, waiting for her two remaining team mates. Lee Hyun and Minhyun where still making their way forwards the finish.

“You can do it!” She cheered for them.

“Hurry up.” Said Baekho, who had finished a while before.

Minhyun crosses the line just in time before the tagger turns. Lumina cheered for him. Not long after Soobin and Sunghoon finish too, leaving one person in the field alone.

“Hyun!” called Lumina, with a laugh.

Everyone began cheering for Lee Hyun, standing alone in the field with a few cans of soda and a bottle of herd tea.

“I need to hear why you’re still here.” Seungkwan run over to Lee Hyun with his mic.

“I have bad knees.” Was all Lee Hyun said.

Seungkwan ran back to his place at the finish line. However Lee Hyun silently walked behind him, surprising Seungkwan when he crossed the line. Everyone laughed at Lee Hyun’s witty action.

“Oh. You’re so cool.” Cheered Lumina when he passed her. She looked at what was in his hands. “Our team has so much soda now.”

Everyone was back in their tents enjoying their drinks. Lumina giggled as her team mates took a sip from the herd tea bottles.

They could hear cheers from Le Sserafim's tent next to them.

“They’re cutting the watermelon.” Said Minhyun

“Wow, that looks so good.” Lumina sighed, a little jealous.

Yunjin cut the watermelon into pieces them put them on a plate. Sakura took the plate.

“This is for you.” she said, as she bought the watermelon to team TT. Minhyun took the plate from Sakura thanking her. Lumina also stood up to thank the Le Sserafim members.

“Thank you so much.” she said, bowing in gratitude to all the members in the next tent.

Biting into the watermelon, a look a pure joy spread across Lumina’s face. “Ah, this is heaven.”

A little later Hoshi came to them with a plate of more watermelon, not knowing they had been given some by Le Sserafim.

“We already had some.” Lee Hyun told him.

“I want more.” Both Lumina and Minhyun said at the same time.

And so each team enjoyed a short break, enjoying watermelon and refreshing drinks under the warm sun.

Bonus

(before the game)

“Are your team mates being nice to you?” Soobin asked, glancing at the three older men standing close by. Lumina smiled, thinking that his question was like an older brother asking if her classmates were nice on the first day of school.

“Yes Oppa, don’t worry. I’m having fun.” she reassured him

“Good, come to me if you need anything.” he whispered to her.

“Thank you, I will.”

#kpop oc #kpop fanfiction #fictional soloist #fictional idol #idol oc #big hit soloist #hybe soloist #tomorrow x together #enhypen #seventeen #fromis_9 #le sserafim #lee hyun #baekho #hwang minhyun #glitterhart_lumina #illusion!ocnet

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