#also i purposefully did not use the word love in the last bit to make this inclusive of aro folk :) 👍 i see yall !! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sundrop-writes · 10 months ago

Text

Figure It Out

A Criminal Minds Casefic

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” -Friedrich Nietzsche

Summary:

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team.

When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance.

Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

Word Count: 18,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed Warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a general casefic - there is no romantic pairings in this fic, it is more about the mystery of the case and how the reader character fits into it (if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader) - with that being said, the main relationship focuses are between Emily and the reader and Spencer and the reader (because I am biased and I love them) but there isn’t any romantic threads or romantic tones, it is all platonic; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and is described as a woman, but I went out of my way to make sure that there is no descriptions of the readers looks or body type; there is use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); mentions of the reader being from Georgia (because the case takes place in her hometown); smoking/cigarettes - mentions of the reader character smoking tobacco; mentions of the reader character being injured (severely in a past incident, and minor injuries during the course of the fic); mentions of vomit/mentions of the reader character throwing up; lots of warnings for general Criminal Minds topics; murder, killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, violence, guns/gun violence, mentions of rape and sexual violence, mentions of systematic violence towards women; there is no graphic depictions of rape/no rape scenes in the fic, but there is mentions of the event of rape happening to certain characters, references to rape culture, and the shame/guilt/self blame a rape victim feels; mentions of stalking/stalking behaviors - including the delusion mindset of a stalker, obsessiveness, sending someone unwanted letters, mentions of a ‘one sided’ relationship; mentions of trauma/PTSD; descriptions of symptoms of PTSD; themes surrounding the cycle of violence; I did kind of purposefully make the warnings a bit more vague than I usually do, because I really don’t want to spoil the plot of this fic. But as lot as you are okay with the maturity of all these themes, you should be okay with this fic!!

A/N: This is pretty much 100% inspired by the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood - which the fic is named after. I highly recommend watching the music video, because it is fucking art in my opinion, but I have taken such heavy inspiration from it in terms of the style, tone, and even storyline - so the music video kind of spoils this fic. So probably watch it after you read the fic lmao. I also feel like the instrumental version of the song goes very well with this fic. This fic is not at all typical and I am terrified that people won't like it, or that they won't 'get it'. But I am very proud of it, so I am going to put it out there and hope that people enjoy it. So - please enjoy!! I really love writing Criminal Minds casefics and coming up with the details of a case, and writing it in this style was so, so exciting and interesting for me, and I really do hope that you can enjoy reading it.

...

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche

...

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret more palpable in your lungs.

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would soon be resigned to a cage.

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand.

Ten more minutes.

“I just want to talk.”

So caught up in your thoughts, your mind so foggy from the hectic night - you had almost forgotten that there was someone sitting in front of you.

He looked so entirely stiff - wearing his cookie cutter suit and his carved-in scowl. He did nothing to shift your mood.

“This is just a conversation. Nothing more.”

He continued on, using a monotone, would-be soothing voice when you didn’t say anything.

The metal chair felt stiffer underneath you, and you felt further suffocated within that small, concrete box.

You felt inclined to call it an interrogation, but you wouldn’t be so quick to tell him that. It’s not like you were going to tell him what he wanted to hear.

“You can smoke in here if that makes you feel more comfortable.” He added on, pushing something from the middle of the table toward you.

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There was also an ashtray. A collection of things that someone had put there, knowing that you would be resigned to this tiny, tiny room.

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch.” You huffed, saying his name, using the same technique that he would likely be using on you. You could mirror him, get ahead on the mind games. “I’m not as crazy and detached from reality as you think I am.”

Perhaps that was a false statement. You weren’t even sure how crazy he thought you were. Perhaps, that in itself made you detached from reality. You couldn’t be sure.

Nonetheless, you took him up on the offer. You reached out and eagerly picked up the pack of smokes, ripping off the outer plastic before you took one out, shoving the tip between your lips and lighting it up.

You took a heavy draw, and the nicotine throbbed through you. Seemingly adding to the headache you already had from the large gash on your forehead that they had hastily bandaged before bringing you in here, rather than relieving it. Still, you sucked on the cigarette like it was your only lifeline - taking a moment to tap some of the ash into the small ashtray while you stared at Hotch carefully.

You wondered if you should really tell him all the gory details.

“Just tell me what happened. Tell me your side of the story.” Hotch said, trying his best to sound warm and convincing. It didn’t work. “I’m just trying to figure it out. Just like you are.”

Perhaps your biggest regret was that you were here, cooped up in this hole - and he was in the hospital somewhere, laying in a soft bed, being attended to by nurses, being comforted. The fact that he was still breathing - even with the assistance of a tube down his throat, and not in a body bag.

“You’ll never look at me the same if I do tell you.” You managed to find these words, and these words only. Ominous, almost threatening - more so than you intended.

“I won’t.” He returned. Shallow, fallible.

Suddenly, a crash from the hallway broke the tense silence that was brewing between the two of you. The door was thick, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the ruckus coming from outside.

“No! No! You have to let me through! I have to be in there!”

The voice was familiar, but that tone of desperation certainly was not.

“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-”

“Sit this one out?!” Reid repeated the words back, his voice warping with pure shock, the inability to conceptualize such a thing. “You expect me to just sit out?” He scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me, two more people would be dead, and there wouldn’t even be a ‘this one’! Now let. Me. Through.”

“Reid-”

With all his bolstering stubbornness, he shoved past whoever had been trying to stop him, and as you took another heavy puff off your cigarette, the interrogation room door came flying open.

Hotch stood up, rushing to block the door, but you smiled. Though you were numb from the day’s events - it was your natural instinct upon seeing him.

“Reid-” Hotch choked out, trying to block the gangly man from even entering the room.

“Good evening, Doctor Reid.” You greeted him gently.

Upon seeing your reaction - so much more open and warm - Hotch allowed him in. This was the wedge that he needed to pry you open. Reid closed the door behind himself with an indigent huff and a glare toward his superior.

Reid crossed his arms, hovering near the door as he turned his stiff-jawed glare toward you now. Your cigarette turned to a hot cherry in your hands - sucked to death already, and you stubbed it out in the tray before starting a new one. You knew chain-smoking was an even filthier habit than the occasional ciggy, but you had one hell of a day under your belt. If there was ever a time, it was now.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reid asked, his voice stiff and oppositional.

“Oh, so many things.” You said, your tone clever and unphased. Hotch let out a sigh as he sat back down in his chair. He was glad that you were talking openly now, at least. “Shall we go in alphabetical order, or start at my birth and work or way back from there?”

Reid let out another nasal thick sound. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for banter.

You were met with nothing but a stony wall of silence, and cold glares of disapproval. It almost made you feel guilty. Almost.

“Let’s start with this,” Reid corrected you. “Why?”

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself.

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.”

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

Prentiss led the team as they searched through the house. It was the only solid lead they had as to where you might be. It was a house that your parents used to own - a place of significance because you had lived there the summer when it first happened.

“Clear!”

She went through the living room, the kitchen, the entire first floor, leading the team with Reid at her side, guns drawn.

“Clear!”

As she crested the top of the stairs, she heard sobbing.

It was distinct - something that tugged harshly on her heartstrings.

Even though it was against protocol not to clear the rooms in order, she rushed toward it. Reid continued to flank her - obviously he had heard the noise too.

Prentiss landed a sharp kick on the door’s handle, causing it to fling open.

The picture on display in front of her almost caused her to drop her gun.

Hotch had been right.

You were on top of the man, straddling him. Both you and the man were badly beaten - but right off the bat, Prentiss could tell that he was far worse off. Clearly, you had bested him in the fight this time.

The contents of the room strewn about; broken glass, busted furniture, the curtain rod torn down. It looked like the remnants of a bad WWE brawl. You were the picture of desperation - heavy, hot tears coming from your eyes, blood smearing down your face from a gash on your forehead as you stared down the man beneath you with fiery madness in your eyes.

You had a knife to his throat. A large hunting knife - the same kind that all the other victims had been stabbed with.

You had the tip of it poised to his throat, just barely touching his skin. If you put any amount of pressure on the blade - if you bared down, then you would slice right through his esophagus. It would take almost no effort from you at all to end his life.

From what Prentiss could see, the man was unconscious. He was completely slack, his body still on the ground. He was bleeding from a small head wound. His life was entirely in your hands. He couldn’t fight back.

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of the confrontation with your life’s biggest monster.

Though it went against everything inside of her, Emily kept her gun raised. She kept her arms stiff, keeping her gun pointed at you. As much as she detested that man, knowing what he had done - it was her job to shoot you if you tried to kill him. Right now, she hated that job.

“Put the knife down!” Prentiss ordered sharply.

You didn’t move.

Naturally, Reid, in all of his softness and empathy, slackened his arms and holstered his gun before anyone could blink.

“Come on, put it down.” She tried again.

You ignored Prentiss entirely, your hands still shaking, making no moves to lift the knife away from the man’s throat.

Reid moved to step into the room, and from his view at the top of the stairs, arms stiff and gun pointed in your general direction - Hotch called out to him.

“Reid-!” He tried to warn Reid against doing this. Of course, he didn’t listen.

Reid knelt down beside you, posturing in surrender with his arms. Of course, he wasn’t even on your radar at the moment. Your entire gaze, your entire focus was on the unconscious man underneath you - the true target of your agony.

“Y/N,” Reid said your name calmly, trying to capture your attention. “You don’t have to do this.”

You hesitated for a moment, and Prentiss worried that even his gentle voice wouldn’t be able to get through to you.

“I have to.” You sobbed out. More heavy tears slid down your face, and you began to shake more visibly, shockwaves moving throughout your entire body.

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.”

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls.

It made Prentiss’ heart jump inside of her chest. If it wasn’t protocol, she would have dropped her gun and run over to comfort you with a hug. But she knew that you weren’t in the most stable place. You might have tried to stab her with the knife.

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-”

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, trampling over his quiet voice. “I killed those women. I killed them!”

“Prentiss!” Hotch edged in, warning her.

If you didn’t move off of the unconscious man soon, then she would have to take you down.

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. She had faith in Reid.

“We both know that’s not true.” Reid told you. “You didn’t kill them. You didn’t mean for this to happen-”

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.”

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.”

There was a gutting silence.

“Please, just give me the knife.”

At this point he was doing some pleading of his own - but your hands were unsteady and you still refused to look at him.

You weren’t going to give up the fight that easily.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Somewhere On The Country Backroads - Madison, GA. 2:11AM.

“I want two squad cars down the road, I want state police cutting off all the possible exits to the major highways.” Agent Hotchner was on the scene, doing what he did best - giving orders. “I want to cut off any chance of possible escape incase the suspect tries to flee-”

“Hotch, do you really think that’s necessary?” Morgan asked. “We’ve got the house. Thermal cam’s got two bodies on the second floor. There’s nowhere to run from here. We’ve got spike strips on all the dirt roads. No car is getting past any of that. It should function as a hard extraction from here.”

Hotch glared at Morgan as he fastened the straps on his bulletproof vest. The glare of the red and blue lights from the squad cars only made the deep frown lines on his face look firmer.

“I am not taking any chances.” Hotch said. “We both know this is an incredibly delicate matter. We found one of the victims across state lines. We know this suspect has mobility. I’m not risking finding another body.”

The air became tense as everyone realized what he meant by ‘another body’.

“I want tactical swat to go in first-” Hotch began, and was quickly cut off by Morgan.

“You’re sending in swat when there’s a hostage in there?” Morgan questioned harshly.

“Even if we go in there blazing, showing force, she might not come in quietly.” Hotch explained.

“You’re serious?” Prentiss replied, hooking the wire of her earpiece around her ear in order to tuck the mic in. “She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.”

“You saw the incident report.” Hotch reminded her. “The amount of defensive wounds she had… the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard. She’s desperate, she’s feeling cornered, she-”

“She’s terrified right now.” Prentiss pressed harshly. “She doesn’t need a bunch of men going in there waving guns in her face.”

“She could sacrifice him.” Hotch theorized, further trying to prove his point. “This could be her chance to finally get justice. Finally getting rid of the man who’s tormented her for all these years.”

“So we have to bring them both in. Quietly.” Morgan said. “We can’t just go in there shooting. If your theory is correct, then she could use him as a human shield.”

Hotch nodded. “Fine. No tactical swat. Prentiss, you take the lead.”

“Yeah, and I’m taking Reid with me.” Prentiss told him sharply. “Somebody with a little compassion around here.”

Prentiss nodded and scoffed, walking past Hotch, gently whispering ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ on her way to get in the car with Reid.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

When JJ let out a harsh sigh, Emily turned to her, swiveling in the borrowed office chair with a creak.

“What is it?” Emily asked.

“Don’t you feel that?” JJ replied. Emily shrugged, waiting a moment for her to finish the thought. “That… overwhelming feeling of dread?”

Of course, it was obvious. No leads. No breaks in the case.

It was hopeless.

“Come on, I thought you were the hopeful one.” Rossi pointed out, tossing his empty paper coffee cup into a nearby trash can.

“How can I be hopeful when one of my best friends is caught up in all this?” JJ fired back. “If she-”

Before she could finish that thought, Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention.

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.”

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

You knew that it was cruel, but you couldn’t help but to enjoy his groans of pain.

There had been so many others - so many monsters to take down. So many men that you had gotten rid of without a second thought. Men you had put bullets in that didn’t mean as much to you as this. So many others you had easily forgotten about. But he had taunted your soul in a special way. And you knew that you were enjoying this too much.

“Tell me you like it!”

You screamed, taking another downward swing with the piece of wood - a leg broken off from the chair he had bound you to. He had been convinced that you wouldn’t break free. Laughable. He should have known better.

When he didn’t respond, you took another swing.

You could have stopped. You could have ended it. But you didn’t.

“Come on, tell me you like it!”

You screamed in his face, sputtering blood across him. At one point, he had punched you in the mouth. You weren’t exactly sure where the blood was coming from. You didn’t exactly care.

That would be your excuse.

He had hit you too. You were battered. You were just a fragile woman, after all.

“You’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He coughed, sputtering out some blood himself. “I… I always liked that about you. It was one of the reasons I fell in love.”

He grinned - bright red spread out across his teeth, and it gave you the intense desire to see those teeth missing. To make him swallow them.

“You don’t love me.” You told him firmly. “You just get an adrenaline rush from being around me because I’m not afraid of you.” You explained. “Unlike the other whores, I fight.”

While you were preoccupied with the words, he flipped onto his stomach and began crawling across the floor.

He thought you were too stupid to notice, but he was inching his way toward the hunting knife that had been thrown out of his hand during the scuffle. It was a slow, sluggish crawl. You had broken a few of his ribs, his kneecap. It was nice to see him so slow. You had probably severely damaged his internal organs with how hard you had been beating him with the makeshift baton.

It was worse than last time. You stood above him like a menace - watching and waiting. You hated that you knew you would take an odd kind of joy in removing his hope when you stole the knife from his grip.

Just as he grazed his fingers across it, you brought another harsh swing down across his achilles tendon, causing him to scream out in pain.

You still had a lot of strength left in you. He was tiring out.

He was losing the game.

“Come on baby, tell me how you like it.” You continued to mock him. “Tell me how good I am.”

“Fuck you.” He moaned out.

You felt satisfaction bloom inside of you - those were the words.

He had finally given up hope. He had finally realized that maybe: he wasn’t going to beat you. Maybe he wasn’t above you on the playing field anymore. He was fucking around with a fellow predator, not toying with his prey.

“Oh baby. You know I’m only doing this because I love you.” You said, repeating his own words back to him in a cruel mockery.

That was when he realized: this wasn’t just a lover’s spat. This was a culling.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Just Outside of Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:04AM.

Reid needed some air.

Working on the case so diligently, not coming up with any leads. It was intensely difficult. Letting the balmy summer Southern air flow over him, getting a good gulp of the fresh air into his lungs - it was a bit more awakening than drinking his sixth cup of coffee for that day.

He was surprised when he rounded a corner, trying to go for a short walk to stretch his legs, and he saw a very recognizable face hovering near a gray Honda.

“Mrs. L/N?” He posed, approaching her gently. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

JJ had promised to call her if there were any updates. Reid didn’t want to disappoint her by telling her that there were none.

“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.”

Reid nodded at this. “My apologies.”

She looked deeply troubled.

Reid waited patiently for her to reply to his initial question - for her to tell him whatever was burdening her. If he was lucky, it could help with the case. It was always the families who could help put those final puzzle pieces into place. That was something Gideon taught him, so he took it as sacred advice.

“You’re Doctor Reid, aren’t you?” She posed, stepping forward to approach him slightly - still stiff, still stand-off-ish. He easily understood why. He nodded in response. “My daughter speaks very fondly of you.”

Reid cracked a small smile at this.

His attention was then brought to a small box - a shoe box as she held it out to him.

“I don’t mean to bother you at this late hour, but… you said to let you know if I thought of anything that might help you.” She reminded him. He nodded again. “And I - well, the reason I didn’t bring these up the first time… you can understand that I have a need to protect my daughter?”

“Of course.” He affirmed. “It’s every parent’s natural instinct to protect their child.”

She looked solemn at his words.

“I had no idea that… that what happened to her could potentially be connected to these… these murders in any possible way.” She told him, shuddering as the word passed through her lips. “I was just trying to shield her, you have to understand.”

She handed him the shoebox, and when he took it and lifted off the lid, it took him only a moment to understand. He would need to find a quiet place to fully inspect the contents, but it was all being pieced together in his mind now.

“Thank you for bringing me this.” He told her quietly.

“Doctor Reid, you have to promise me that you’ll bring my daughter home unharmed.” She said, tears coming to her eyes. “She’s a good girl. Please, just bring her home.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise her that. Not under the circumstances.

“Ma’am… I will try my best. That is all I can promise you.” He told her.

She nodded in quiet understanding before Reid turned and marched back inside.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 11:03PM.

The flint of the lighter flicking seemed to be the loudest thing in the room in that moment - even with the low hum of the eleven o’clock news playing in the background.

It was so odd. Everything was exactly like you remembered it. Withered - but the same.

Even the chair you were sitting in. The old wooden chair that had been lugged up from the kitchen, one that you used to sit in for hours and do homework - it was rickety, but somehow the same.

You took a sharp drag off the cigarette after it was lit for you, continuing to listen to the feminine voice on the radio as the news played.

“I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I’m speaking on behalf of the Madison Police Department. Tonight, we are making an urgent appeal to the public for information. Earlier this evening, a woman went missing in the area of-”

“I never took you for a smoker.” He said, his voice sharp and confident in the words.

You tapped your cigarette into the ashtray with your free hand before raising it up to your lips to take another drag. Right now, the smoke heavy in your lungs was the only thing keeping you sane.

“I never smelled it on you back then.” He added on when you didn’t respond to him. “Bitches who smoke always smell like dirtbags. You just… smelled nice.”

“I didn’t smoke back then.” You quietly replied.

He had driven you to take up the habit.

You took another drag of your cigarette - you wanted to enjoy it. The longer you could drag it out, literally, the longer you could delay the inevitable.

“-The suspect was last seen driving a blue and white, 1970s Ford truck. If you see the vehicle, please-”

“They’re lookin’ for ya.” He said casually, nodding toward the radio.

You wished they weren’t.

You directed the conversation elsewhere.

“Tell me how this is gonna end.” You urged him quietly, ashing your cigarette again.

“You and I both know… this was only ever gonna end one way.” He told you, his voice irritably cocky.

He had you now. He had won.

“-We believe that this abduction is connected to a string of recent murders in the area. It is critical that if you have any information, you call our tip line at-”

He rose from his spot then, and turned off the radio.

The silence was gutting.

He moved toward the door, but you abruptly caught his attention.

“Remember,” You told him. “You made me a promise.” You said quietly. “No more. No more girls.”

He chuckled at this. “Of course, darlin’. No more.”

It felt like a lie.

“But only because I love you.” He gave a filthy grin along with these words, and your insides shuddered.

You knew that he wasn’t actually capable of love. You had known that from the moment you first laid eyes on him.

You didn’t bother to muster any words in return.

He crossed the room back toward you and leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead. Your body stiffened, entirely stony toward it. It was selfish on his part - loving on you like a doll, rather than trying to bring you any comfort.

He moved back to the door silently.

You worried about what would happen the moment he went out the door. He turned to you just before he left.

“Don’t run off now.” He said with a wink. Ego. Sarcasm.

“Where am I gonna go, Dan?” You sighed.

You lifted your tethered hand up to drive the point home, and the clink of handcuffs was now apparent in the otherwise silent room.

He shut the door with a chuckle. You put out your cigarette in the ashtray, reaching for the loose spoke in the back of the chair. This was a chair that you used to sit in for hours while studying. That loose spoke used to bug you all the time.

It came free after only a few tugs.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 10:24PM.

The previously dark parking lot of the secluded, back country convenience store was now entirely lit up with red and blue. Four police cars had crowded into the area, surrounding the place where you had last been seen.

Inside, under the harsh white fluorescent lights of the store, Hotchner and Prentiss were interviewing the store clerk - a young man who had supposedly been the last person to speak to you before the abduction.

“So, you’re sure that you didn’t see anything?” Hotch pressed the young man - someone who seemed so entirely nervous under his harsh, unmoving gaze.

“I swear, man, I didn’t see anything.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “She was parked in the back of the parking lot, and once you walk around the corner, there’s no way to see someone through the doors. It’s like - like a total blind spot, man.”

“The UnSub had to have known that.” Hotch noted quietly, turning to Prentiss. “He approached her knowing that he wouldn’t be seen.”

“Do you think he was waiting out there?” Prentiss wondered aloud.

Then she turned back to the clerk.

“Was there a man in here before she came in? He would have been in his 30s. Very cold, he wouldn’t have said anything. Just paid quietly and left. He might not have even bought anything - he might have just walked around, checking the blind spots. And if you asked him what he was looking for, he would have given you a glare rather than speaking. This man is not sociable. He’s very distant. He likely wouldn’t have looked you in the eye.”

The clerk shook his head.

“No, nobody like that.” He explained. ��That lady - she was my first customer in, like, hours. She just bought her ciggies and left. And I thought it was weird cause she bought a lighter too. Most smokers already have a lighter on them.”

“I didn’t know Y/N smoked.” Prentiss said quietly.

“Me either.” Hotch confirmed.

Hotch’s attention was captured by a screen behind the counter - surveillance feed, showing several different places inside the store. There was one camera just outside the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, that camera was pointed at that ‘blind spot’ in the parking lot.

Without asking permission, he raised the partition and walked around the counter, his eyes hyper-focused on the screen.

“Can you get me this footage from a few hours ago?” He prompted toward the clerk. “The view of the parking lot. We need to see what L/N did after she left the store.”

The clerk nodded and began typing things onto the keyboard, and Hotch prompted him to stop when he saw you appear on the footage. Prentiss came around the counter as well, leaving the three of them crowded in close to the small screen as they watched the past version of you.

You walked across the parking lot - toward your car, a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You were making determined steps - until something stopped you.

“The UnSub caught her attention.” Prentiss noted.

Then - something entirely strange happened. While staring at the man off screen, you leaned against your car, and began ashing your cigarette, as if chatting idly with him.

“He’s not using force.” Hotch thought aloud. “Do you think he’s got a gun trained on her?”

“Maybe.” Prentiss hummed quietly.

He was out of the frame, so it was only a guess.

Then, after a few moments of this - you simply walked off. You walked in the direction he had been standing.

“Did - did she just go with him willingly?” Prentiss gaped, entirely in shock.

When she glanced over her shoulder, Hotch was gone.

He stormed out into the parking lot, frantically gazing around. Prentiss followed him, chasing his chaotic energy.

“Hotch!” She called out. “Hotch-!”

“We need more camera angles! We need-”

“Calm down.” She urged, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” He rasped. “Why would she go with him willingly? Why - why? Why would she?” He was frantic. “He must have threatened her. He must have-”

They both didn’t want to think of the obvious.

That you didn’t fear him. That - it hadn’t even been an abduction.

“He must have threatened her.” Prentiss easily agreed. “She wouldn’t have gone with him otherwise.”

They didn’t bring up the fact that you had a gun and plenty of training on how to use it. They didn’t bring up the fact that the profile said the UnSub couldn’t easily charm - he would have kidnapped you by force.

Unless you were special. Unless he thought he could talk to you specifically for some reason.

“Guys, what’s the news?” JJ asked, finally walking onto the scene.

She hated the grave looks on Prentiss and Hotch’s faces.

“I want you to put a press conference together.” Hotch said, straightening himself out and turning to her. “Make an appeal for witnesses. Tell them that there’s been a woman abducted in the area, but don’t tell them that L/N a Federal Agent. It could set the UnSub off if he believes that this abduction is being treated with a higher priority. If he feels a higher pressure from law enforcement, he might-”

“Right.” JJ nodded. Hotch didn’t need to say the words in order for her to understand. “So: release her name and her photo, but act like she’s just a regular civilian?”

Hotch nodded. “Exactly.”

“If I get going now, I think I could still make the eleven o’clock news.” JJ said, rushing off with her cell pressed to her ear.

“Let’s just hope that it brings Y/N home safely.”

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 8:03PM.

You felt an odd amount of relief having nicotine in your system again.

This was the first time you had smoked a cigarette in years. You had quit the habit shortly after you joined the FBI Academy when one of your advisers warned you that it might cause you to fail the fitness test. And you felt like you should just knock the habit, seeing as the only reason you had taken it up was because of… him.

But - all of this was so triggering. Being back in your same small shitty town. Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag.

The murders.

You sucked on the cigarette for dear life as you walked back to your car, and just as you were about to get in - the windows of the car open, inviting in the sweet summer air, the keys still inside because you did feel an odd amount of trust in your hometown - something captured your attention.

“Y/N.”

Hearing your name in that voice made you freeze on the spot. The warm breeze felt like ice against your skin as you took your hand off the door handle, turning toward him.

“You’re lookin’ gorgeous as ever, darlin’.”

“You.” You ground out the word with as much disdain as possible, hot rage boiling in your blood as you looked at him. “I should have known it was you.”

He let out a sharp chuckle - a sound that made your throat tighten up. He flicked his tongue out across his teeth, grinning his terrible Cheshire grin at you.

A hand instinctively went for your gun, and your palm hit an empty section of your belt. He let out another sharp chuckle when his eyes followed yours, making the same realization that you did.

You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone.

You wondered if you could dive through the open window before he could get to you. When he made a posturing move, brushing his unbuttoned plaid shirt away and revealing the gun he had strapped to his belt underneath - you realized he would shoot you if you moved too quickly.

You were stuck.

“Of course it’s me, baby.” He said, casually replying to your earlier words. “You had to know that I did all this for you. For us.”

Giving into your fate, you propped yourself against the side of the car - trying desperately to steady your wobbling legs without making it look like you were doing so. You tapped your cigarette, spilling some of the ash before you brought it to your lips once again.

“I missed you like hell.” He told you with a snakeskin grin.

“I didn’t miss you.” You bitterly fired back. “Not for a fucking second.”

“Guess I made it difficult to miss me, huh?” He said, cocky as ever. “With my frequent correspondence and all?”

“You know what I meant.” You fired back.

You glared at him sharply but didn’t say anything more, afraid that he would whip the gun out and shoot you.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, something that sounded utterly sarcastic.

“Ooh, darlin’ that’s harsh.” He said. “That would almost hurt. If I didn’t know the truth.”

You wanted to argue. You took in another large drag to help hold your tongue. You knew the results of arguing with him - it wasn’t worth it.

“So… I think you know how this goes.” He announced. “You can come with me now. Or… I can go get another girl.”

“No more girls.” You told him. “I’m here now. You won. Whatever business you have - it’s with me.”

You stamped out your cigarette as you walked toward him, and your phone began to ring on the front seat as his truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 7:26PM.

“Hello! Everyone, listen up.” Hotch called everyone to attention as the local police continued to filter in, most of them standing around with cups of coffee in hand or notebooks out, ready to take notes. “We’re ready to give the profile.”

“Yes, and please keep in mind that this is just a general set of guidelines describing the suspect.” Rossi said. “This is not a concrete list of things you should be looking for. A profile is more useful in the elimination of suspects, rather than the inclusion of them.”

He then turned to Derek, who began reciting the profile that the team had put together so far.

“This UnSub, or Unknown Subject, is most likely a white male in his thirties to forties.” Morgan explained. “He drives an American made vehicle, something large enough to conceal and transport victims, and something that has off-road capability in order to get to the more secluded areas where some of the bodies were found. So think trucks, heavy duty vans, anything with thick treads on the tires and a large payload. And his vehicle will most likely be in a more discreet color. This guy won’t be driving around in something flashy. He’ll be in something that blends into the background, like a beige or black truck.”

“So what?” One of the local cops piped up. “We put out an APB for every single heavy duty black truck in the area? This is the south, do you have any idea how many people around here drive a truck? Especially ones driven by men in their forties.”

“There’s more.” Hotch noted, looking toward you.

“This UnSub likely believes that he is dating these women in some capacity before he kills them.” You explained. “He has left scraps of poetry at the scenes, pages of romance novels - several of the victims had wine in their stomachs or burns from candle wax on their skin. And it’s highly likely that he turns violent when the women reject his advances, or don’t live up to the fictionalized relationship he has made up about them in his mind.”

“How does that help us?” Someone asked.

“Well, it’s very likely that he frequents the same hunting grounds.” Rossi explained. “We encourage you to go to local bars, and nightclubs, even gyms or cafes and pass out the profile to women who fit this type.” He said, motioning toward the pictures of the other victims. “He will be on the hunt again soon, and he has a very narrow hunting ground, living in such a lowly populated area. So we might be able to catch him off guard if his potential victims have the profile as well.”

“This man is romantic, but he’s not charming.” You added on. “He isn’t sociable. He’s very cocky, very self-centered. He believes that he is God’s gift to women, and he has a very fractured sense of reality in general. If women reject him in everyday interactions, he will get noticeably irritated, and even violent. So he will be remembered as an unpleasant person in most women’s stories.”

“This UnSub most likely has an inside knowledge of law enforcement.” Reid stated. “But, because he has a very antisocial personality, he wouldn’t do well working with the public. We currently have our analyst combing through files of those who flunked out of the police academy or live in the area and are retired from the military in some capacity. We believe that he might have even been in prison for an unrelated crime or institutionalized at some point, giving him a close look at the inner workings of law enforcement, and also attributing to the large break between the first two crimes.”

Reid took a breath, and then continued on.

“He was knowledgeable enough to purposefully dump one of the bodies across state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case, but it was just one of the bodies, and it was dumped in a very well trackied area where it would be found. So that leaves a heavy insistence that he was fed-up with the local police not giving his case enough attention or - simply not being smart enough to keep up with him.” He explained.

“He is very cocky.” Prentiss added on. “Incredibly over-confident. He is a narcissist to his core, and he believes that he will never be caught unless he wants to be. He thinks that he has an intricate cat-and-mouse game with law enforcement, and he can go off the grid and disappear at any time that he wants.”

“Well… isn’t that true?” One of the cops asked. “I mean, the guy’s been at it for years and we still haven’t caught him. There’s no DNA, no real leads.”

Hotch hummed, nodding. And then he walked over to the evidence board and motioned to the pictures of the two most recent victims - barely recognizable compared to the shining, smiling photos their families had provided.

“We believe that he’s decompensating.” Hotch explained. “He is growing more violent toward each victim, which means that he is getting more sloppy - eventually, he will go off-book. He will break his routine in some way, and that will be the moment he’ll give us something to catch him with.”

“So… you’re just waiting for him to kill again so you can actually catch the guy?” Someone asked sharply.

“No.” You easily replied. “We’re praying it doesn’t come to that.”

“Thank you everyone.” Hotch said, clearing his throat, giving an unconscious signal for everyone to disperse. “That’ll be all for now.”

Everyone easily fell under his authority, and meandered back to what they had been doing before, now armed with the profile and ready to distribute it to members of the public, to the potential victims.

You had a harshly, sickly feeling in your stomach as you gathered some of your files. It was the same feeling that had been turning your guts into knots since you had arrived back in Madison for the first time in years. Your eye accidentally caught the evidence board - the tall, intimidating wall lined with the gruesome photos of all the women.

Women who looked strangely like you. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. All of them horribly brutalized and left for dead. All of them terrorized, tortured right up until their last moments.

“Hey.”

JJ’s voice snapped you out of your swirling dark cloud of thoughts, drawing your eyes away from the evidence board with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You huffed out a harsh breath as you let her guide you, turning around to face the blonde woman as she stared you down with a distinct look of concern knit across her features.

“Are you okay?” She asked. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

She had a point. You had been doing this job for some time. You had gone to the FBI Academy straight out of college, after getting a degree in criminal forensics. And none of it ever bothered you. You had learned about the study of blood spatter and the decomposition of bodies on live body farms, and you never flinched.

But this case - it was getting to you.

It was likely the first time anybody on the team had ever seen you so disturbed.

“I’m fine.” You lied, trying to shrug off her touch.

“Come on.” JJ sighed in return. “I don’t need to be a profiler to figure out that was a big fat lie.”

You rolled your eyes at this.

“You’re so brilliant.” You let out a sigh of your own, and put down your files on the nearby conference room table. You stretched out your back, deciding that you would give her an inch, hoping that she wouldn’t take a mile. “I’m freaked out. So what? Doesn’t everybody have room for a bad day?”

“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course, you can have a bad day.” Her lips pursed, and you knew there was more coming. “Is - is it anything more than that?”

“I’m tired.” You lied again, hoping she wouldn’t call you out on it this time. “It’s been - what? More than twenty hours since we landed. For these guys it’s been years, searching for this bastard. I wanna catch him.”

“We will.” JJ assured you, sounding rather dull in her declaration.

“I’m gonna drive down the street and grab an energy drink or something.” You announced, grabbing your blazer off a nearby chair and putting it on. Not that you would need a jacket with the southern weather - but your cash and your keys were in the pockets.

“I thought you quit Redbull.” She chuckled.

“It’s been one of those days.” You replied, shaking your head as you walked out of the room.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 5:13PM.

“There’s still one thing that’s buggin’ the hell out of me.” Morgan announced as he walked back into the room with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.

“That is?” You posed, looking up from the stack of personal files - potential suspects - that you were reading in order to engage him in the conversation.

“What is with the two year hiatus from this guy?” He said, motioning to the board.

The first victim had been abducted and killed all the way back in the summer of ‘99, but none of the other victims matched up until a missing person from September of 2001. And from there, the killings picked up in frequency - and the killer had taken over twenty six victims in and around Madison up until now.

“It is weird.” You commented. “Usually after the first kill is when an UnSub is the most hungry for more. After that first taste for violence.”

Morgan raised a brow at your strange choice of words and you shrugged it off.

“Maybe he was hospitalized.” Reid said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to make this comment, studying the board with his own intense expression. “Institutionalized? Maybe he was arrested for something completely unrelated, like - drugs, outstanding traffic violations?”

“That’s helpful.” You sighed.

“It could be.” Reid replied, sipping his own coffee. “I mean, we theorized that this UnSub has pre-existing knowledge of law enforcement - if he was in prison, maybe he was reading up on the law while he was in there? Who has closer knowledge of the law than ex-cons?”

“Good point.” Morgan nodded. “I’ll call Garcia and have her widen the search.”

“She is gonna love that.” You mumbled under your breath, already frustrated with the large pile of potential suspects you had to go through.

Morgan took out his cell and walked into the other room, and you heard a distant ‘hey mama!’ as he chirped to Garcia on the other end.

Then, you heard another voice that was all too familiar to you.

“See, you’ve all just been working so hard, I thought you could use some sustenance!”

It was your mother.

You rushed out of your seat to find her in the middle of the bullpen, handing out muffins from a large basket that she had in her hand.

It wasn’t entirely surprising to you, but it made your stomach sink. She was too much of a social butterfly for your liking. She knew about the last time you had been in this police station, she talked too much. No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone.

“See, that one’s blueberry, you like blueberry?” She was chatting idly, being her usual overly social self.

“Yes, thank you so much Ms. L/N,” Prentiss smiled as your mother pushed more food into her hands.

“Oh please, call me-”

You knew that you must have looked like a storm, walking toward her with a scowl on your face.

“Ma!” You barked, much harsher than you meant to, causing her to look up at you abruptly. “Ma? What are you doing here?”

“Well see, you’ve been here all day, and you’ve been working so hard, so I made dinner for you and your friends,” She grinned, motioning toward a large tinfoil tray filled with mac and cheese that she had placed onto one of the desks next to a stack of paper plates and plastic forks. Naturally, a chunk of it was already missing.

You wanted to scream when Reid walked over and began scooping out a portion for himself.

“Ma, they’re not my friends, they’re my co-workers.” You said, exasperation ripe in your voice.

You knew that this, too, ended up sounding much harsher than you had intended. As if you didn’t think of these people as friends. But you couldn’t stand the woman babying you. It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby.

“I’m an adult now, and-” You continued on, and she cut you off.

“Oh yes, yes.” She nodded, reaching out to pinch your cheek in an utterly frustrating way. “Your co-workers.”

“Please, Ma.” You sighed. “You can’t be here right now. This is a police station, not a bake sale.”

“She can stay for a few minutes, can’t she?” Prentiss grinned, peeling the wrapper off her muffin. “We can take a break for dinner. I wanna hear some childhood stories about you.”

Reid looked up eagerly at this, and you glared at both of them.

“Oh, you should hear about the time she painted her face blue with the paint from-” Your mother began to tell a delightful embarrassing story, but you cut her off.

“No.” You said sharply. “I’m sorry, but we have work to do. Important work. Once we actually catch the guy, I’ll bring everyone by the house for tea and cookies and you can show everyone my naked baby pictures, the whole nine yards. Just - not now.”

You unceremoniously ripped the basket of muffins out of her hands and placed them on the desk beside the tray of mac and cheese, and she began to argue with you, calling you rude, telling you that she had raised you with better manners while you ushered her out the door.

Prentiss and Reid exchanged a particular, concerned look as they watched you and your mother argue through the glass doors of the precinct.

“Now what do you think that was all about?” Emily asked quietly.

“For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Georgia Highway 72 - Madison, GA. 1:32PM.

“This is new.” Morgan noted as the two of you walked away from the SVU, approaching the dumpsite where the latest victim’s body had been found. “This guy doesn’t usually dump bodies out in the open. You think he was in a rush?”

The two of you had been sent to check it out while Hotch and Prentiss spoke to the family, and the others went over evidence from the many pre-existing cases at the station.

“Not likely.” You replied. “Preliminary report says there’s still no DNA, no skid marks from his tires, no shoe prints. He’s not getting sloppy.” You felt a sickly wave of vomit splash up as you looked at the woman - her ankles sticking out of the tall grass just off the edge of the highway, where she had been left, entirely visible for anybody passing by to see. “This was a present. Like a fuckin’ cat leaving a dead mouse on the porch. He wanted us to find her. And he wanted us to find her quickly.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Morgan noted, tentatively stepping into the grass and gently moving the long spokes of greenery back to get a better look at the victim. “He’s definitely escalating.”

You crouched down to get a better look yourself, and you had to agree.

Her face was almost entirely caved in, but it appeared to be from a series of blunt hits, and not from a singular swing with a heavy object. Between the pre-mortem swelling and the post-mortem rage, where he had continued to mutilate her even after her death, she was practically unrecognizable from the photo that her family had provided you with. The only reason the team had been able to confirm her identity for sure was that she had been reported missing, and she had been found wearing a unique custom charm bracelet that her parents could confirm belonged to her.

You wished that you could guarantee they would never see her body in this state.

“What’s that?” Morgan wondered aloud.

You hummed back in confusion.

Before you could wonder any further about what he meant, he reached out and gently pried open the victim’s mouth, fishing out a small piece of plastic that he had seen sticking out from the corner of her swollen, bruised lips. He had to fight to get it out of her stiff, death rigored body, but when he was able to - a small plastic bag came out of her mouth.

A small plastic bag containing a piece of white paper.

“What the hell?” Morgan mumbled quietly.

Naturally, he opened the bag and took out the paper, and you looked on with nervous curiosity as he read what was on the note.

“You are the stars hidden by clouds.” He read aloud. “I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. Your shine peeks out and reaches me in the depths of my soul. Tell me your arms are long enough to reach me across oceans. Tell me someday we will be together, somehow, some way. Tell me that this love we have can survive being together as well as we’ve survived being apart. Tell me we are more than the chasm of our divide.”

Bile splashed up in your throat.

You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it.

You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake.

“Hmm.” Morgan looked over the paper thoughtfully. “It’s another page ripped out of a book. Just like the other one. I’ll call Garcia and have her look it up, maybe-”

“You don’t have to.” You said, hoping that your throat wasn’t too painfully constricted around your words. “It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.”

Morgan easily saw the haunted look behind your eyes - the years old terror that you were having a much harder time suppressing now.

Oddly enough, it was a feeling that he knew well. Perhaps that’s why he saw it in you so easily.

“You alright?” He bothered to ask, even though he knew the answer was ‘no’.

“I’m fine.” You lied. “We should bring this back to everyone else.”

You rushed away from the crime scene like a bat out of hell, and even though he knew he should have pressed further - he let you.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 10:08AM.

“Good morning, y’all.”

The BAU was greeted by Chief Dalton, the Madison County Chief of Police, as you all filed into the small police department.

“You can set up in the conference room over there, I hope we got y’all everything you need.” He said, flashing a warm, welcoming smile.

“This looks fine, thank you.” JJ said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” She pointed to him, and he nodded in return - of course, rather than shaking hands. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Rossi, and Agent L/N. Our Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Morgan will be here later - they wanted to go and interview some of the families of the victims, get some more background information.”

“L/N?” He motioned toward you, his eyes becoming fixated on you as you set down your bag and lifted one of the lids off the boxes to get a glance at some of the files. “That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?”

“Oh yes, I am,” You grinned at him, stepping forward and giving him a handshake, to which he grinned back widely. “I grew up here. This is actually my first time back in years.”

“Well, welcome home.” He said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me too.” You easily agreed.

You thought that would be the end of it, until:

“You know I hardly recognized you. Such a pretty face, but the last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp.” He remarked, giving a pained chuckle.

Your stomach swelled with anxiety, and it felt like a pure balloon of concrete sitting inside of you. You felt all the eyes in the room on you - Rossi, JJ, Emily, Spencer - all of them staring you down as this man aired your dirty laundry like it was as casual as the weather report.

“You came through here - what was it, the summer of ‘99? I’ll never forget that assault report. I’m surprised you can still see out of that right eye of yours, with the way-”

“Coffee?” You cut him off when you managed to find your voice, rushing to change the subject and praying he would get the hint. “Where can I get a coffee around here? Long flight. And we’ve had an early morning. Long flight, going over the case.”

You didn’t even realize you were tripping over your own words, repeating yourself in a rush to fill the air so he wouldn’t speak about the past anymore.

“Oh, it’s right through there. In the break room.” He said, motioning vaguely behind him.

“Would you mind showing me, please?”

You knew it was cowardly, but you were now desperate to escape your colleagues, and wanted to drag the Chief away before he spilled anything else from his loose lips.

He escorted you out of the room and it was only a mere moment before conversation ensued about the strange thing that had just happened.

“Am I gonna be the first person to say ‘what the hell��?” Rossi asked, looking around to his teammates, who all had equally shocked and confused expressions.

“It’s a small town. These people don’t exactly understand secrecy. Or tact.” JJ sighed.

“Yeah, but why would Y/N keep that a secret from us?” Spencer asked, frowning. “If she was assaulted-”

“Yeah, in the summer of ‘99.” Emily pressed. “That was a long time ago. Have you told everyone on the team every little detail about your life from ten years ago?”

“Eight years.” Spencer easily corrected her.

“Whatever.” Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to profile her. We’re here to catch another scumbag and leave.”

There seemed to be a resounding nod at this.

“If she wants to tell us about what happened, she will.” Rossi added on.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Outskirts of Madison - Madison, GA. 9:52AM.

“There’s my beautiful girl.”

He had a perfect view of you through the scope of his gun.

Of course, he would never hurt you. There was no bullet in that gun that was intended for you. This was just the perfect way to see you. Up close and personal. Just the way he liked it.

This was the first time he had seen you in so long. You wore your makeup differently now - your hair was a bit different. But you were still his girl.

“You’re gonna love the present I left for ya.”

You spoke his language - violence.

You wrote your life in blood, just like he did.

You were perfect. His perfect girl.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Inside the BAU Jet - Somewhere Above America. 7:12AM.

“So, the ME dates eight of these victims from within the last year alone?” Prentiss questioned, looking over some of the files on the table in front of her.

“Well, it’s difficult to tell with the soil erosion and the heavy rain that the area had recently, but they are significantly less decomposed than the others.” JJ explained.

“What I don’t understand,” Morgan noted. “Why would he give up his gig now? I mean, twenty four victims in a mass grave in the middle of the woods, and he leaves a twenty-fifth victim in the middle of the road, clearly intending for police to find it. With a damn note attached, giving up the exact coordinates of his mass dumpsite. Why?”

“It is strange.” Reid agreed. “Typically, whenever killers have contact with the police, it is to taunt them for their inability to get caught, believing that the police are stupid and they as killers are invincible.” He said. Naturally, this rolled into a rant as more facts came to mind about the subject.

“Serial killer Dennis Rader, also known as the BTK killer, standing for Blind, Torture, Kill - he taunted police with letters over a period of three decades, between 1974 and 1991, each one that he sent to the local police simply saying ‘good luck hunting’.” Reid explained. “Occasionally, he would send them graphic descriptions of how he had posed the bodies at each crime scene. And he was only caught when a floppy disc he sent to a local television station was traced back to a computer that he had used at his church.”

Reid laughed at this revelation, finding it amusing. With all eyes staring at him, he reached the realization that this wasn’t helpful to the case at hand - and then he easily clammed up.

“So, this UnSub gives up the dumpsite because… he’s feeling remorseful? He wants to get caught?” Rossi theorized.

“The level of violence across these recent victims has no indication of remorse.” You replied. “One of the bodies found at the dumpsite was missing over half her teeth, and had all ten of her fingers broken in multiple places. Seemingly pre-mortem.”

There was a heavy silence at this.

“Perhaps he’s feeling ignored,” Hotch posed. “He feels like his crimes aren’t being well covered by the media and he wants glory. He finally wants recognition for what he’s done.”

“Well, wouldn’t he have sent some kind of manifesto or another letter to the police?” Morgan posed. “And it seems like the guy went through a whole lot of trouble for a long time, trying not to get caught. He buried them out in the woods, secluded. Wrapped them in plastic, scrubbed the bodies clean so there’s absolutely no DNA. Doesn’t seem like someone looking for glory to me.”

“Not to mention that he wrote the coordinates for the dumpsite on the back of a page ripped out of a novel.” Rossi said, squinting down at one of the files - a close up forensic photo that had been sent over by the local police department.

Prentiss held out her hand, and Rossi handed over the photo, and then she began reading the words off the page aloud.

“-I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy, but-”

“-but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” You finished the quote before she could, the words flashing through your mind with a sickly twist in your gut. It was all too familiar to you, in the worst way. “It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.”

Everyone fixated on you with a strange gaze, wondering how you knew this off the top of your head. Especially when usually this would only be something that Reid would be able to recite so perfectly by heart.

“Maybe he thinks that he’s romancing these women?” Prentiss theorized, trying to move on from the strange moment.

“That’s plausible.” Hotch agreed. “When we land, Morgan and I will go interview some of the families. JJ, get us their contacts. I want to know if any of these women had problems with an ex boyfriend or even a bad date whom they rejected. It could be someone they once viewed as a potential romantic partner that went horribly wrong.”

JJ nodded at this, going to look through her files for the information.

“This level of torture - it’s likely a substitute for sexual gratification.” Morgan theorized, looking at the crime scene photos one again. “Maybe he is romancing these women, but in his mind, this is the ultimate form of romance? Having all of his conquests together in death - it’s a declaration of what a casanova he is. In his fractured world.”

“It still doesn’t explain why he gave up the dumpsite to the police.” Prentiss argued.

“Men like to brag about their sexual exploits.” Rossi said, nodding toward Morgan. “If these women are his conquests, in his mind, then he wants his manliness, his accomplishments, to be appreciated by other men.”

Prentiss sharply rolled her eyes at this.

“Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:15AM.

JJ stood at the front of the room, ready to present the newest case to everyone.

“Last night, a body was discovered on the backroads of South Carolina, about five miles outside of the town of Delph. She was found naked, mutilated. Heavy bruising all over her body that insinuates the killer kept her and tortured her for days. Final cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma from multiple hits to the head, but she also had several shallow stab wounds across her body, seemingly from some kind of hunting knife with a rough blade.”

JJ explained, beginning to present the case as she clicked the small remote, causing images of the crime scene to pop up on the large screen in the room.

“The victim - now identified as Ashley Prembrooke, hadn’t even been reported missing. She left her parents house in Madison, Georgia, about three days ago to drive back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina. When she didn’t show up on time, her roommate assumed that she was staying at home for a few extra days. Her father has cancer, so she wanted to be there for him.”

There seemed to be a particularly dark aura in the room at this news.

“Did the killer know that she wouldn’t be reported missing, or did he just snatch her up by chance?” Morgan asked.

“Her car was found abandoned at a rest stop a few miles from the border of Georgia.” JJ explained. “So… it seems to be random.”

“Well, I hate to ask this,” Rossi said. “But why are we being called out for just one body?”

“That’s the thing.” JJ sighed.

She clicked the clicker again, and several close-up photos appeared. Photos of the victim’s mutilated body - among the harsh bruising on her torso, there was a piece of white paper, partially stained with blood. It had been folded and stapled into her flesh.

“The victim was found with this page… stapled into her skin.” JJ said, clearly finding the words disturbing to speak aloud. “Written on the back, was a set of coordinates. Local police discovered that these coordinates lead to a random patch of woods, about ten miles outside of Madison, Georgia.”

JJ queued more pictures onto the screen. It was those very woods - overturned dirt. And more than a dozen bodies, wrapped in plastic among the soil.

“It was the site of a mass grave with twenty-four other victims - all women around the same age, with the most recent ones all having the same body type, the same hair color, same general makeup as Ashley Prembrooke.”

“He has a type.” Hotch stated the obvious.

“And for some reason, he tipped the police off to his hiding place.” JJ reminded them all.

“Twenty four victims?” Prentiss questioned, clearly shocked by this number.

“That’s what they’ve found so far. The decomposition on some of the bodies seems to go back as far as a decade, but it’s difficult to date them exactly.” JJ replied.

“So… the guy is experienced, hasn’t been caught in years, and he hands over his honey pot to the cops? Is he trying to get caught? Is he feeling guilty?” Rossi posed.

“No, not with that level of violence. There’s no remorse there.” Morgan replied.

“He dumped Ashley Prembrooke over state lines. We could be looking at somebody with an incredibly wide hunting ground who gave up one of many dumpsites as a way to taunt police.” Hotch theorized.

“That doesn’t seem to be the case.” JJ explained. “So far, eight of the most recent victims have been matched up with missing persons reports, all of them women from Madison. All within the last year alone. It seems like he targeted Ashley because she was from Madison - that’s his comfort zone.”

When the pictures of the missing women - now confirmed dead, murdered violently, popped up on screen, your throat tightened.

You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them. You had seen them cheer proudly at high school pep rallies - you had known them lively and bright. And now they were bones rotting in the soil, taken by some monster.

Beyond that, there was an alarming trend.

They looked like you. You couldn’t deny that. Same hair color, same body type, same skin tone.

And they were from your hometown.

Between this, and the letter, the morning was getting to be too much for you. You wanted to believe it was all a series of terrible coincidences, but…

Looking across the roundtable at you, Reid was the only one who saw that sickly look come over your face. He was desperate to know what was troubling you.

“Reid?” Hotch got his attention, finding it strange that the overly talkative man was quiet this morning. “You’ll work the geographical profile?”

“Yes.” Reid nodded, finally taking his eyes off you. “It’s unusual for the killer to hunt wider than a five hundred mile radius from home. So it’s likely that he lives, works, and operates all within Madison.”

“Good. We could be looking at a copy-cat who knew about the previous killer’s dumpsite, or… something else entirely. But we need to get on the ground there and find out.” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.”

Everyone dispersed from the table when Hotch finalized with this, and you found yourself much dizzier than you realized as you tried to stand. As everyone moved to their desks to gather their things, you moved to the counter to get a coffee - hoping to calm your nerves.

“Y/N.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Reid’s voice came from behind you - your own blood was pumping in your ears, and seemingly, he had snuck up behind you. But his usually quiet footsteps simply couldn’t be heard beyond the nagging thump of your own anxiety.

“What?” You barked back, knowing it was far too harsh.

“Are - are you alright?” He asked, hesitant to bother you with the question.

“I’m fine.” You lied as you dumped the sugar packets into your cup, your shaking hands accidentally spilling some across the counter top.

“Are you sure?” Reid pressed.

You let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him, crossing your arms heavily over your chest.

“What?” You said the word again, sternly, glaring at him.

All he did was give you a soft, understanding expression in return.

You hated it.

You hated how he was so open - it was almost horrifying, how you could have easily told him what was bothering you.

Sweet, accepting, understanding Reid.

If you told him the truth, he probably would have told you some statistic that he found comforting. It would have been sweet, coming from him. But then, he would have been looking at you with those eyes all damn day, holding pity in his heart and not truly focusing on the work that needed to get done.

“Can you look at the shit we see every single day and always be okay with it?”

You easily made up an excuse, pretending you were rattled by the crime scene photos, even though this murder was no more graphic in nature than any other you had been subjected to seeing recently.

“I’m human. So what?”

Reid studied your face carefully. He saw guilt dancing in your eyes - the way you gently bit your lip was your tell for lying, that much he knew from playing many rounds of poker with you on the plane rides home.

But he felt that simply nagging you more wouldn’t get the truth out of you. Not right now.

“Okay.” He acquiesced. “I know it’s hard. If you ever need someone to talk to-”

You stormed off, accidentally slamming into his shoulder on the way along in your haste to escape the conversion. Reid heavily eyed the cup of coffee that you had left cooling on the counter before he turned and left himself.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:04AM.

You walked into the bullpen with your bag on your arm, sipping a strong coffee in a travel mug you had brought from home.

“You look tired.” Emily commented as you walked over to your desk. “Late night?”

You moaned in reply, not yet ready to let go of nursing your coffee mug, taking a few more long gulps as you took the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slung it into your chair.

“Last night, the fire alarm in my building went off at 3am.” You told her, finally surrendering the mug and putting it down on your desk. “I was out of bed in a panic, barely awake, went into the hallway to evacuate - and the sprinklers had gone off. So I ended up standing outside for more than an hour in my little jammies, soaking wet, and it turns out - some teenager from the third floor pulled the alarm because he was having an argument with his mom. He didn’t want to go to summer school.”

“Yikes.” Derek commented. “Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call. And you can bring your little jammies.” He told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes, knowing that flirting was his default. “As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.”

That almost made it sound more appealing. You did love that dog.

“You know, a study was done at the University of New Hampshire that concluded that twenty to thirty minute windows of sleep actually optimize the human brain for functionality the most.” Spencer added on, leaning back in his chair at his desk as he explained this.

“The schedule of a ten to twelve hour work day, followed by an eight hour sleep period has only been instituted in society as a commonality since the industrial revolution. And it doesn’t actually flow with how the human brain has been optimized by evolution. Before that, most people optimized their lives around a wake-sleep period of three to four hours, taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening. And most communities functioned around people sleeping and waking at vastly different times rather than everyone having one collective morning routine.” He concluded, giving you a smile.

You found his rambling fascinating, but you found it ironic that you could barely process half of what he had said - because you were too tired.

“Well, unfortunately we can’t all live in villages and pick berries for a living.” Emily remarked with a yawn.

The conversation shifted when Penelope walked in, and gave you a bright smile.

“Good morning, pretty girl.” She greeted you.

“Mornin’, Penny G.” You replied.

“This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago, stamped express. I figured you’d want to have eyes on it as soon as possible.” She told you, handing you a very average looking white envelope.

You weren’t sure why, but it invoked a strange feeling in your gut.

The moment that you saw the handwriting on your front - the script that made up your name.

The way he had written it.

Bile rose up in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it back down. All eyes in the room immediately knew that something was wrong.

“What is it?” Emily asked.

“Nothing.” You quickly replied.

You didn’t even want to open it, but bitter curiosity was eating at you.

How the hell had he found your work address? He knew where you worked now?

“I’m gonna - bathroom.” You mumbled an excuse as you rushed back out of the room again, practically fleeing toward the bathroom, leaving all eyes on your shadow.

In particular, Spencer’s eyes followed you hard as you retreated. He wondered how a simple letter could upset you so much.

You secluded yourself safely in a locked stall, your heart thumping in your chest as you began to tear into the letter. The envelope turned to sinew in your hands with your anxious inability to open it properly. In a few moments, you pulled out the piece of paper with a shaking hand, and dropped the shredded envelope onto the floor.

You barely managed to read its contents through tearful eyes.

Lover,

Fate has sent us on such different paths, but I will be with you again soon.

I still miss you every single day. I remember your smell.

I know none of the men you have spent your recent years with can measure up to me, which is why I have set you on the path back to me.

“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but like everybody else, it must be in my own way.”

-Daniel

Your chest caved in when you realized that there was something taped to the corner of the page.

You recognized the piece of dark cloth in an instant.

It was from that night. He had kept it.

You couldn’t keep the bile down that time. You turned to the toilet and puked up a horrible swirl of black coffee and half a toaster waffle that you had scarfed down while getting dressed for work.

When you had just barely caught your breath, you heard the door to the bathroom creak open.

“Y/N?” Emily called out your name. “Are you in here?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you heaved a large glob of putrid spit into the toilet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice now coming from right outside the stall you were in.

“I’m fine.” You handed out that lie, not knowing how many times in the next day you were going to be saying it.

“You don’t sound fine.” Emily told you. “I thought I heard you throwing up.”

“Bad sushi.” You lied. “Stopped by the corner store on my way home. You know I never cook. Food poisoning is usually 50/50 with that kind of shit. Just another thing to add to my great night, right?”

You let out a sour, sarcastic chuckle, but Emily didn’t follow suit.

You knew that you would have to face her sooner or later, so you wiped your mouth again and then turned and unlocked the stall door.

“I’ll be fine.” You told her, throwing her a very fake smile.

“Yeah.” She said, tone flat, entirely disbelieving. “Would it have anything to do with that?”

She motioned to the letter, which you had almost forgotten was crumbled up in your fist.

“Can I see?”

You didn’t even consider how suspicious it would be, but as her hand moved toward the paper, you ripped it up and tossed it into the toilet, grabbing the envelope up off the floor and tossing it into the mess of paper and vomit as well before you flushed it all down.

“It’s nothing.” You grunted out, another very poor lie coming from your lips as you exited the stall and moved toward the sinks. “It’s garbage.”

You turned on the tap and leaned down, taking in a mouthful of water to rinse out your mouth while she watched you with careful, piercing eyes.

“It’s kind of pathetic that you’re trying so hard to bullshit me.” Emily remarked. “Not just because we’re both profilers, but because it’s so painfully obvious that something is wrong.”

You swirled the water around your mouth, rinsing it out, and then spit into the sink before you turned the tap off. When you rose up to your full height, you caught Emily’s eye in the mirror - pitying. You hated it.

It was that kind of pity that held you back from telling her the truth.

She reached over to the dispenser and got you some of the paper towel, handing it to you as she spoke again.

“You know you can tell me what’s bothering you, right?” She said, reaching up to put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

There was a small, quiet moment - the words edged on your tongue.

You truly considered just coming out with it.

But then-

A harsh knock on the door cut through the silence.

“Y/N? Em?” JJ poked her head in through the door, clearly looking for the two of you. When she spotted you, she continued on. “I need everybody at the roundtable in five.”

“Let’s get going.” You said, wiping your mouth and then crumpling the paper towel to toss it into the garbage can.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention.

After being given a shoebox full of strange letters by your mother, he had finally pieced it together. He finally realized the secret you had been hiding - the thing that put you right in this killer’s crosshairs.

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.”

He motioned to something in his hands - it was a worn-out old shoebox, something that made everyone curious and confused.

“What the hell is that?” Prentiss asked.

“Come on.” Reid ushered everyone into the conference room, and once the whole team was gathered, he shut the door.

He opened the box and spilled it into the middle of the table, revealing a flood of hand-written letters. JJ stood back in shock, Hotch observed carefully and silently as usual, and Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss began to pick through them while Reid explained his revelation.

“Y/N’s mother gave me these.” He explained. “All of them are addressed to Y/N, and from what I can see, they’re pretty much weekly, and they go back as far as 1999.”

“When the first murder occurred.” Morgan easily pieced the two things together.

“Not only that,” Reid added on. “The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” He said, pointing to the picture of the first known victim on the evidence board. “And I think the first letter, or one of the earliest, is from July of ‘99. At least.”

“So - so she was having correspondence with the killer?” JJ questioned. “What? Was he in prison? Are you saying that Y/N is involved with this in some way?”

“No-” Reid rushed to correct this assumption, and Morgan cut him off.

“She was at Quantico when the latest victims were killed. Even if the guy has a partner, I really don’t take her as bein’ responsible for this.” He said.

“Plus, these don’t exactly read as love letters.” Pretniss pointed out, her expression growing disturbed as she read what the killer had written from the letter in her hands.

“-every day I dream of you, my love. I remember the way you felt underneath me - clawing for your life, desperate. I remember the way you screamed. Tasting your blood for the first time made me feel alive again. I hope the bruises meant as much to you as they did to me.”

“The use of ‘I’ language denotes self importance - the author has a natural narcissistic personality disorder, but he pretends that it’s a fulfilling two-way relationship, when naturally it’s a fixation on someone who could never truly live up to his fantasies.” Reid explained.

The room fell silent as the reality of it hit everyone. You were the target of someone truly dangerous. Someone who was going to kill you when you didn’t perform the fantasy that he had in mind for you.

“She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.”

“These killings aren’t someone having separate, individual fantasized relationships with each victim; this is about the killer repeating the same relationship over and over again, performing the same ritual killing in order to relive the same fantasy over again, projecting it onto different women of the same type.” Hotch said, coming to the realization as he stared at the different victims photos on the evidence board with a firm look on his face. “He’s been in love with the same woman in his mind for years, but nobody can live up to the real thing. That’s why he gave up the dump site. Because he wanted to lure her here. He wanted the FBI here, because he wanted to get L/N here.”

“Okay, but the bigger question is: why L/N? What was the incident that got him fixated on her in the first place?” Rossi questioned, asking what was on everyone’s mind.

JJ’s face was struck with horrible realization, and she ran to the door, ripping it open. She screamed the Chief’s name at the top of her lungs until she got the man’s attention, looking entirely crazed to everyone else in the station. Naturally, she didn’t care. He bustled over, scurrying toward her urgent voice, spilling coffee on himself in the process.

“Chief.” JJ breathed out. “You said that Y/N came through the station, and she was beaten up the last time you saw her - when was that?”

“Oh, I dunno?” He creased his brows with concentration, trying to remember. “About ‘98? ‘99?”

“Did she file a report about the incident?” JJ asked.

“Yeah.” The Chief replied. “It was a break-in. Poor thing. Summer vacation, her mother wasn’t home, off with the church on a retreat hittin’ the bingo halls up in Texas. She said that she never saw the attacker, though. He was wearin’ a ski-mask.”

There was a silent exchange among the group that said they knew the truth - you had seen the attacker, you knew him. It’s why you had gone with him willingly this time. But you hadn’t told the police the truth back then because you had been too scared.

“Can you get me that report?” JJ asked.

After too many anxious minutes, the Chief came back with an old file in hand, and JJ snatched it out of his hands with a mumbled thank you before she shut the door in his face once again. She placed it down on the table among the mess of letters, and flipped it open.

“Oh my god.” Emily gasped when she saw the photos inside.

There was a spread of old polaroid photos, pinned to the sides of the file. They were almost too graphic for the team to look at - one showing the damage to your face; both of your eyes bruised, one of them entirely swollen shut. Scratches, deep gashes, harsh bruising all over your body. You were wearing a dark cotton tee shirt with patches ripped out of it - as if someone had been clawing at you and nearly ripped the clothing off your body to keep you from getting away.

“This wasn’t a burglary.” Derek mumbled, frowning as he picked up one of the photos and inspected it closer.

“Get Garcia on the line,” Hotch told JJ.

She dialed the tech’s number on the conference hub, having to unbury the small bit of technology from some papers before she did it. It rang for a few moments before the woman on the other end picked up.

“Where’s our girl?” Garcia asked anxiously, talking about you. “Is there any news? You’re calling because there’s good news, right?”

“Babygirl,” Derek called out, trying to get her to focus, but she trampled right past this and continued to ramble on.

“Please don’t tell me she’s dead!” Garcia shrieked on the other end. “Cause I can’t keep losing people! And I know it’s selfish to say that I can’t lose her, but she’s one of my best friends, and I’m gonna be a mess! And she promised to be the maid of honor and my wedding, and I know I’m not even engaged, and I don’t even have a boyfriend, but I need to have her around for big milestones in my life like that, she’s like the best person I know, and-”

“Garcia, we need you.” Hotch told her firmly, cutting off her emotional ranting.

“Right.” The tech replied, sucking in sharply, trying to catch her breath. There was some scraping in the background - the wheels of her chair on the floor as she scooted her chair into her desk. “What do you need? I’m here.”

“I need you to look up reports of rape in and around Madison County between 1991 and 1999.” Hotch told her.

“Rape?” Garcia replied, seemingly shocked by the topic and how it might relate to the case at hand - how it might relate to you.

“Come on, babygirl.” Derek encouraged her. “Work your magic.”

“Yeah. I got it.” She said hesitantly, and then there was the clacking of her keyboard as she worked.

“Oh. Ugh.”

“What is it?” Rossi was the first to ask.

“There’s over five hundred cases.” Penelope told them, clearly disgusted by this number.

“Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties? With similarities to the victims who have been targeted by the killer. Same hair type, same race, same body type.” Hotch told her.

“Turning on the creep filter.” Garcia said, using her usual sense of humor that she turned on to shield herself. “That leaves us with… about twenty cases.”

“Were any of them prosecuted?” Hotch asked.

“Two of them.” Penelope replied. “A couple of sorority sisters from the University of Georgia were held at gunpoint and raped by a pizzaman in ‘95. He went to trial, got ten years. And he was paroled for good behavior in 2003. Yikes.” Emily rolled her eyes in agreement with his comment. “And shortly after his parole, he crashed his car into a tree in a drunk driving incident. Looks like he’s probably not your guy.”

“What about the other eighteen cases?” Reid asked.

“Um… no.” Garcia replied. “None of them went to court. A lot of these say that the victims were attacked by a stranger… that he broke in through the back door. Hold on.”

“What?” Derek prompted her.

“There is one here. Terry Driver. She said that she was raped, and she identified her rapist as someone she knew - Daniel Matthews. But he was never arrested because his brother gave him an ability for the night of the incident.” Garcia explained.

“I bet that one was air-tight.” Rossi scoffed.

“What type of injuries did the victims have?” Hotch asked.

“Um… nothing major.” Penelope replied. Hotch frowned. “A black eye… a few scratches.” She hesitated. “Ligature marks… from being tied to their beds. God. That sounds like the most horrible night of your life, doesn’t it?”

Hotch shook his head, sweeping a tense hand over his face. “He doesn’t fit the profile.”

“Wait.” Reid swallowed thickly, staring at the photos of you that were sitting in the middle of the table.

Battered. Bruised. Broken.

“Some of the letters refer to him having an awakening. ‘An awakening in my soul. A bond through blood.’” He explained, naturally reciting the words from memory after having only read them once.

“She fought back hard.” He held up one of the photos - one of your arm, showing deep, bloody scratches. Defensive wounds. “She found back so hard - he must have liked it. It-”

“It gave him a taste for violence.” Prentiss finished off the thought, fear written all over her face. “She - she was the one who made him realize that he could use violence to replace sex completely. So he switched from rape to murder.” She came to the shocking realization aloud, her eyes flickering from the photo of you to all the photos scattered across the evidence board - all the victims he had practiced on in the wake of you.

“Oh - oh my god.” Penelope gasped, having heard all of this over the intercom. “He’s gonna kill her? He’s gonna kill Y/N?”

“Garcia, What can you get me on Matthews?” Hotch asked.

“Um, right - Daniel Matthews…” There was more clacking of keys, and then Penelope replied. “He grew up in Madison. Looks like he went to the same high school as Y/N. He used to play football. He has a juvenile record for… vandalism, underage drinking. The usual. Oh…”

“Oh?” JJ wondered aloud.

“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001 when he was accused of sexually harassing fellow female applicants, and he was flagged on the psych eval as having a possible narcissistic personality disorder.” Garcia explained.

“Bingo.” Rossi sighed. “That’s our UnSub.”

“Oh my god. The hiatus.” Morgan said, his eyes fixated on the evidence board now. “‘99 was the year he attacked Y/N, when he first got a taste for it… and then… he followed her to the Academy?”

“And he resumed the killings when he got kicked out.” Rossi picked up on the thought. “When he couldn’t be in close contact with her anymore… he couldn’t get a high off of retraumatizing her, reliving that night in his mind, he needed to relive it through the other victims.”

It all fit together now.

It was a horrible puzzle, but it all fit together around you.

“Reid, you said you might know where he took her?” Pretniss said, turning back to the very tired looking genius.

“Yes,” Reid shoved aside the file with the graphic photos of you, and went shuffling through the letters for something. When he found it, he handed it over to Prentiss. “A lot of the earliest dated letters make reference to ‘our special place’. Or-”

“-the bed I first made love to you in.” Prentiss read it off the page, clearly holding back vomit.

JJ grabbed up the file with the report about the break-in, shoving aside the photos, looking for an address. “It’s here. I’ve got it.”

“Okay, I want squad cars, tactical swat, I want spike strips on every road in or out of that place. I need everyone mobile in ten minutes.” Hotch ordered sharply, causing everyone to jump into action.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

It should have felt like a victory to hold a knife to the throat of your rapist - someone who had been taunting you for years after the incident.

But somehow, you still felt small. You still felt so chaotic and out of control.

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of confronting your life’s biggest monster.

In the back of your mind, you were aware of the guns pointed at you. You would have liked to believe that because Emily was your friend - she wouldn’t shoot you.

Part of you thought it would be worth it. To kill this man and take a bullet in the process.

You just hoped that she would aim to wound and not to kill.

“Put the knife down!” Emily ordered, her voice sounding muffled in your ears as blood thumped hard through you. “Come on, put it down.”

“Reid-!”

You heard his name being called out, and you saw a figure moving from the corner of your eye, but all you could focus on was the blade in your hand. The sight of a thick, unmarked neck, ripe for the taking in front of you. The idea that all you had to do was press down and slice through flesh - and then, this would all be over.

No more torment. No more letters. No more taunting.

“Y/N,”

His soothing voice spoke your name, and you held a sob inside of your chest.

You had grown so much of a life beyond this. Beyond him. He had tried to ruin you, he had tried to keep you in some little cage in some shitty town, and you had outgrown him. You had friends. You had people who loved you.

But you still couldn’t escape him.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Your hand shook as you held the knife.

“I have to.” You replied, unable to hold back your sobs. You barely noticed the tears coming out of your eyes - barely able to identify why your vision was blurring, why your face was suddenly wet.

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.”

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls.

If you let Daniel walk away from this, he would come for you again. He would.

Or he would keep killing other women in your place. And you couldn’t let that happen.

You couldn’t let your cowardice be the reason that so many women had died. You should have killed him the first time he had ever touched you. You should have been brave enough then.

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-”

It just sounded like noises in your ears at that point.

Spencer just didn’t understand.

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, urgent to make him truly hear you. “I killed those women. I killed them!”

“Prentiss!” A voice called her name, but it was so distant in your ears.

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back.

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.”

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.”

There was a gutting silence.

“Please, just give me the knife.”

You couldn’t give up.

You had come too far to let Daniel win now.

“It was my fault. I know what happened. If I had just been a good little girl… if I had just laid there and taken it… it’s all my fault.” You quietly wept, your arms still shaking - muscles ripe with hesitation as you struggled with your grip on the knife. “I have to be the one to make it stop.”

By violence it was done, and by violence it would be undone.

You could be brave enough this time. You could be the one to end it.

“No, no you don’t.” Reid told you. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can make it stop together. Just give me the knife. Please.”

You had been alone your whole life. What was one more thing?

Just press down. Something in your mind screamed. Slice his throat. End it.

“Please, just look at me.” Spencer begged, his voice growing more desperate. “Please.”

You didn’t look up at him.

You knew that you couldn’t.

If you took one look at those soft, pitying eyes, then the tiny bit of bravery you had gathered up would crack away.

“Y/N, please.” Spencer continued. “I know why you think you have to do this. I know that his face is the one that’s been in all your nightmares since that night. I - I know you were all alone then, on the night that happened. You must have felt so alone.”

You let out another sob at this.

You had been so alone.

“But you’re not alone now. You’re not alone now, okay?”

Spencer’s gentle voice delivering the words made them feel so true.

“We’re here with you now. I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to fight by yourself anymore. You don’t have to be strong.”

You heard a crack in his voice for the first time - his own tears.

It wasn’t pity.

It was genuine sadness for you, as he thought about what had happened to you. What had happened in this very bedroom all those years ago.

“Spencer-” You choked out his name, and your body betrayed you.

You finally collapsed, your hand dropping the knife, and Spencer reached out and grabbed you as you fell, helping to move your shuddering form away from the unconscious, horrible man as the others finally moved in.

You heard more voices, more shouting - maybe Hotch giving orders.

But all you felt was Spencer’s arms around you, creating a shield as he rubbed your back and gently hushed you, letting you sob as loudly as you needed to, giving you a kind of comfort that you had never felt on that horrible night.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret of it all more palpable in your lungs.

Maybe Reid had saved you from yourself, or maybe he had caused you to make the biggest mistake of your life.

You should have killed Daniel.

Ten more minutes.

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would be resigned to a cage.

Daniel had been hauled away in an ambulance. He had been entirely unmoving. In ‘critical condition’. They would likely charge you with manslaughter if he didn’t recover - it wasn’t likely that he would. You had overheard Prentiss remark on the irony that he was an organ donor. Because you had beaten him so badly, but not killed him, it was likely that his comatose state would lead to his organs being donated, and saving more lives.

It could be viewed as a beautiful thing.

But you had to wonder if the poison he had in his veins was contagious. Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body?

“Let’s start with this,” Reid asked you sharply. “Why?”

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself.

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.”

You let out another puff of your cigarette, and he frowned at you.

“No.” He said. “No more bullshit. No more games.”

You definitely were not used to this version of Reid.

You were surprised that it had taken you almost killing someone to bring out his cold side. But you supposed that everyone had a line. And you had crossed his.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had been raped?” He asked. “Why didn’t you tell us that the rapist lived in your hometown and was a viable suspect in all of this? Why didn’t you tell us that the letter you received the other morning was just one of many your rapist sent you over the years, stalking you, obsessing over you after-?”

“Why?” You said, your voice scraping against the word harshly as you tossed it back at him, cutting off his ranting.

He gave you an impatient expression as it hung in the air - eyes wide, pursing his lips.

It caused you to flare with anger.

You let the cigarette burn down to a hot cherry between your fingers, the harsh sting against your skin being the only thing keeping you from lunging across the table and strangling him.

You stubbed it out in the ashtray before you answered him.

“Why didn’t I want to suddenly announce to a group of my intellectual peers that I was raped?” You echoed back, more tears gathering in the corners of your eyes - you knew that you must have looked quite crazed, especially when Hotch stiffened, and Reid’s expression dropped. “You know, when I first came to the BAU, it was the only time in my life that I wasn’t viewed as a victim.”

“Y/N-” Spencer said your name in that gentle tone again, but you weren’t having it this time.

“My dad left us when I was only a year old. And everybody viewed my Mama as this fucking martyr because she raised me by herself. ��Oh poor girl. She doesn’t have a daddy. Poor little girl, all alone. Her mama does such a good job.’” You said, ranting in a crazed tone. But the floodgates had opened, and you couldn’t stop it. “Nobody wanted to talk about how my Mama was off half the time, drinking at bars, out partying with friends. She got pregnant at sixteen and she didn't want to stop having a life. God forbid I get in the way of that. I took care of my damn self! I raised myself!”

You knew you were screaming, but you couldn’t stop it.

“L/N-” Hotch tried speaking to you in a firmer voice.

But you couldn’t stop.

“Daniel only broke into the house that night because he knew I would be alone.” Your voice warbled harshly on the word, and you hated it.

You hated the look that Reid and Hotch were giving you.

Pity.

That look you had been trying to avoid for so long.

“When I came here that night and made the police report, they all knew I was bullshiting. They knew that it wasn’t a fucking burglary.” You pressed on. “But none of them said anything! They didn’t care.”

There was a tense moment. You swallowed thickly around your own tears, holding back sobs once again.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Spencer tried again, seeming to be personally stuck on this point. “I asked you if something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That look in your eye.” You told him, entirely honest. “That look you have right now. I - I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me like that forever.”

“Daniel approached you in the parking lot of the corner store.” Hotch stated calmly. “Why did you go with him willingly? Did he have a gun on you?”

“He had a gun.” You told him. “He did have it pointed at me. But - I didn’t have mine. I didn’t like the odds.”

Hotch nodded at this.

“I didn’t want him to take another girl.” You added on. “I knew they were replacements. At that point, I realized what it was. I figured nobody else should have to die because of my mistake.”

“Mistake?” Spencer echoed back quietly.

“Not killing him the first time.” You said, knowing this was likely a bit too honest. “I should have killed him the first time he ever put his hands on me. I should have. I wanted him dead.”

Tears leaked hot from your eyes at this, and Spencer’s eyes grew glassy - he blinked back his own.

“You wanted him dead, but… did you want to kill him?” Hotch posed.

“I don’t know.”

...

“That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”

-Patrick Rothfuss

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, meant to function as an episode of Criminal Minds, so please respect it as such. Please do not ask for a sequel or a continuation, because there will not be one. If you are going to comment about the work, please comment about the body of what has been written. I highly appreciate reblogs and comments if you enjoyed it, and if you want to see more of what I have written for Criminal Minds, definitely check out my Criminal Minds masterlist.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction

847 notes · View notes

jeonsbabygirlsworld · 1 year ago

Text

Stop teasing me girl!

SUMMARY: Jungkook, your math teacher gets a boner when you accidently flash him, it ends you being fucked roughly in his bed .

PAIRINGS: Professor Jungkook X student reader.

WORD COUNT: 1.3K

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, fingering, lots of kisses , cream pies ,jungkook loves calling reader baby 😔❤️

A/N: just a drabble idea I had while resting in bed when I was unwell , JUNGKOOK AND READER BOTH SMOKE AFTER HAVING SEX! ! don't come at me . I hope you enjoy this oneshot .Thankyou @jungk97kwife for beta reading this ! ❤️

Jungkook has been giving you looks since the math class started you sat on the last bench purposefully. You had accidentally flashed him the lace bra you had worn today when he bent down over to look at your maths notebook. You didn’t realise your buttons were open.

“ Students if you have your phones I’m going to send you some maths problems and you have to do them in class right now, “Jungkook said while sitting in the chair, he sent the questions soon after opening your chat. Hoping no one saw his raging boner.

Kook ❤️: y/n are you doing it on purpose? Cause it’s working.

Y/n❤️🥰: What are you saying, Professor?

Kook❤️: Y/n I can see your red lace bra.

You saw his text and nervously smiled looking towards him and buttoning up your shirt.

Y/n ❤️🥰: kook I swear I did it unconsciously no wonder you sat down and gave us math problems to solve! Do you have a boner right now kook? 😂

Jungkook❤️: Yes because of you baby, wanna help me? I think I can wait until this class is over. Also focus on your homework , you’ll take care of this later

Y/n ❤️🥰: yes mr jeon .

After texting him you went forward with doing the math problem he had sent to the group. Some students occasionally asked him to help with the problems while he did them on his own.

It all started when you went to your maths teacher's cabin asking him to help you with some of the problems but jungkook said that your old teacher had left the school and he was going to be the new teacher. You were in disbelief that someone who looked so young was going to be your teacher? Jungkook helped you out with your problems that day.

A few months later, One day while you both were in his cabin he asked you to go through some important questions while you were sitting beside him and solving jungkook slightly pecked you on your cheek, and your eyes slightly widened at his action jungkook muttered sorry from his mouth and stood up only for you to take his hand and make him sit on his place.

You pecked his lips not expecting to kiss him back pulling you onto his lap. Since then you have been hooking up it’s nothing but the deal you both made up. No strings attached whatsoever. You both used yourselves just for pleasure. Jungkook and you would both call each other whenever you wanted to get laid he would secretly come to your dorm or you would sneak into his house. Even thought with that both of you risked, especially him—losing the job he’s been dreaming of you both kept going with it .

Present

You had left the class texting jungkook that you would go to his house first , you knew he keeps the spare keys hid behind the flower pot in the doorway, he had told you about it whenever he’d hear you blow up his doorbell.

The bell rang while you went to unlock the door jungkook closed the door while you pressed him on the door kissing him roughly while he chuckled and spun you so now you were the one pressed on the door your tongues were involved in the kiss while he backed up the string of saliva kept you both connected he went back on leaving wet kisses on your neck . “ kook no hickeys please it’s hard to cover” you groaned when you felt him bitting on your neck. “One baby one, "I've dreamt about it all day,” he said hissing when your hands made it towards his Crotch slowly palming him.

as we kept kissing, he messily led the way towards the bedroom. “fuck” he groans against my lips the second he hits the corner of the door. Jungkook closed the door pushing you onto the bed slowly coming to bed and sitting on your knees you had freshened up and you were in your bathrobe. You had some of the spare clothes in his closet using them whenever you stayed over at his house.

Jungkook kissed your legs telling you how smooth they were. He made you sit removing your robe and sucking your nipples and grabbing on the other making you moan his name slowly came down and made his way towards your pussy “Daddy is gonna give you a princess treatment baby” he said sucking your clit. Jungkook had a habit of rubbing his palm after making your pussy wet with his saliva making you moan his name “ fuck kook it feels so good “ he teased his fingers and finally inserted his fingers and sucked on your clit “Kook I’m gonna cum if you keep doing it” you said warning him. “ let it go princess cum on my fingers you like it right baby? Daddy needs to stretch you a bit for his cock, he is been neglecting your pussy for a few days?” Jungkook kept on talking till you came on fingers soon putting them in their mouth and groaning “You taste sweet princess “.

Jungkook hovered upon you while you unbuttoned his shirt kissing him and telling him how good he made you feel, he chuckled saying “ I’ll give you more baby “ he soon got naked teasing himself by giving some strokes on his cock and spitting some saliva which used to palm himself.

“ Fuck it’s too big jungkook” you groaned adjusting to his length “u can take it, baby, you always take me well,” he said slowly speeding up. You couldn’t stop clenching around him “fuck baby just like that gonna make me come” he whispered moaning your name and curses leaving his mouth. “ you love this don’t you baby, teasing me by wearing the red lace bra I don’t care baby if you did by mistake it turned me on “ he said thrusting fastly “ love it jungkook ……… want you to fuck me like this every day, fu-ck baby im Gonna cum “. His thrusts make you unable to speak. “Right there kook “Jungkook’s hands were squeezing your boobs groaning when your nails scratched around his shoulder.

Jungkook’s thrust soon became frantic as he was soon going to come "You make me feel so good." and soon came Chasing his high “cream pie suits you baby” jungkook said kissing you softly and chuckling , and then asking you if you were okay.

Jungkook soon came up to you with a wet towel and cleaned you up “How are you feeling? “ he asked while giving you a water bottle to drink “ Did I go a bit rough? “ he asked sitting on his side of the bed taking out a cigarette to light up “No kook it’s fine I love how rough you were though I don’t think I can walk now “ you said giggling “ stay with me tonight I’ll drop you off tomorrow morning” he said taking a blunt from his cigarette “ okay I’ll stay over pass me the cig kook” you said reaching over to take the cigarette from his hand . “ Baby I said it’s bad for you, it’s just that I can’t quit now but you’ve started doing it now don’t make this a habit yeah baby?” He said “ it’s fine kook one drag” he sighed and gave it to you, soon finishing, both of you mouth washed and went to the bed .

“Kook how much did I score?” You asked cuddling him you face pressed against his chest and your leg thrown over his waist . “ You did great y/n could have been a bit better” he shrugged you off by not saying your exact score. “ Goodnight Y/n” sleep soon overcoming you both .

Please like reblog and comment sweet pies 💙

Part 2

#jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook X reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #bts X reader #professor jungkook X reader #jungkook Drabble

813 notes · View notes

polin-erospsyche · 5 months ago

Note

I know there wasn’t time in the show, but I would love a scene of Colin picking out/designing the engagement and wedding ring and just see his thought process. Any fic writers out there, please feel free to write us one!

Ok, anon, know that when you send an ask like this to a person who writes fan fiction for fun that person will go "oh what a great idea! I'll have a go at it!" and then you end up with a 2K scene of Polin fluff. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope you'll like it, especially considering that I haven't written fanfic in the longest of times (preferring playing with my own characters) and I was afraid of writing for Colin and Pen and not make their voice justice. I tried my best and I had a lot of fun writing it!

The quill's scratch against the thick paper resonated loudly in the quiet room. Penelope's thoughts raced faster than her hand could write. The gossip of the last few days created a frenzy in her mind, an unusual state for her. She had been writing for years and had always controlled the words she put down on paper. Yet recently, it had become harder somehow. The growing pressure from the Queen and London’s elite weighed heavily on her. People knew who she was, and she had vowed to use her quill more consciously. There was no more hiding behind her words and her column.

What she had failed to account for were the demands from the ladies and gentlemen. The socialites and aristocrats, with their veiled threats and insistent flattery, expected her to navigate their intrigues and scandals with care, yet with a sharpness that would entertain and inform. Each letter she received and each whispered rumor added to the weight on her shoulders. Her reputation had become a double-edged sword, granting her influence but also binding her to an unwritten contract with her readers. She remembered telling Eloise once that she had power; now she was fully realizing that power always came at a steep price.

She returned her quill to its inkwell on the desk, leaned back in her chair, and let out a long exhale. Her hands momentarily covered her face before gently sliding down to rest on her pregnant belly. Absentmindedly, she twirled her wedding band, tracing the contours of the bee and flower, finding comfort in the familiar ridges of the ring.

“You seem pensive.” The voice startled her from her thoughts. “How’s the writing going?” She looked up to see Colin standing in the doorway, a familiar and knowing grin on his face. He knew she had been struggling to write anything of note lately.

“How’s Thomas?” Penelope asked back without missing a beat. Their son was always a good topic of conversation; the state of her writing, not so much.

"Fast asleep," Colin replied, his grin softening into a tender smile.

"Of course he is. You spoil him too much. Did you know he won’t sleep unless you’re the one putting him to bed and singing him to sleep?" Penelope teased lightly.

"I'm certain that's not true."

"Well, it's been fifteen minutes since you put him to bed,” she glanced at the clock striking nine fifteen, “and here you are already. Yesterday, it took me a good half hour. I think I'm losing in this deal we made."

Balancing their household duties, social and professional obligations, and caring for their toddler had made finding quiet writing time increasingly rare. They had agreed to take turns putting Thomas to bed, granting each other much-needed solitude. Lately, though, Thomas had developed a clear preference for his father's bedtime routine, falling asleep in a matter of minutes, leaving Penelope with very little quiet time indeed.

“I can leave if you need some time,” Colin offered.

“And leave me to face the blank page?”

Colin furrowed his brows and strode purposefully across the room to stand beside her. Peering down at the paper she had been writing on, he remarked, “Calling it blank might be a bit of an overstatement.”

Words had been jotted down, so technically, it wasn’t a blank page. However, it was not a good page, and she could not publish it in this state. Yet she needed to submit something tonight to the printer—the Queen was expecting it.

“I think you’re overthinking this,” he added. “I think you need to step away from your desk.”

“Colin, I can’t. The Queen is waiting. I have to finish writing this tonight. Apparently, I’ve become an entertainer to the Queen and an ear for everybody else’s gossip,” Penelope said with a hint of frustration.

“Weren’t you always listening?”

“Believe it or not, there’s a difference between lurking behind a potted plant, eavesdropping, and having people visit, hoping for a favor in return,” Penelope retorted with a touch of irony.

“I, for one, am very glad you are in the center of the room. Really, you should be in the center of every room.”

At that moment, she looked up at him with eyes devoid of humor, only to meet his gaze filled with love and admiration. For a brief moment, the air seemed to escape her lungs. They had been married for months. They had a child together. They had settled into a routine that suited them both. Yet, sometimes it all still felt like a fleeting dream, almost too good to be true. It was everything she had endlessly dreamed of as a young girl, and now it was real, tangible. She wondered if she would ever fully grow accustomed to the way he looked at her before deciding that she preferred to always be pleasantly surprised.

He gently placed his hand on top of hers, stopping her fidgeting with the ring. Interlacing his fingers through hers, he gently pulled her towards him, and she moved with very little resistance. He slid his arms around her. This close, he smelled of ink and baby powder, a scent so comforting that she felt the tension release a little from her shoulders. Before she had time to fully sink into the safety he provided, she felt him pulling her closer still, slowly leading her away from the desk until they were standing in the center of the room. Tilting her head up to meet his blue eyes, she saw a glint of mischief, as if he was proud of himself for successfully drawing her away from her work. It was as if he whispered to her - it’s all right, the Queen will wait, the words will wait.

“You know how I know you are preoccupied?” he asked, still holding her, his fingers drawing small circles on the small of her back.

“I’m absent.” She bit her lower lip. She knew she had been. There but not entirely, part of her chained to her desk, to the next words she had to write. They were both like this, maybe it was the affliction of being a writer, a wandering mind. But he seemed to have a much easier time concealing his wandering. She envied his ability to be fully present with the ones he loved, giving them his undivided attention as if nothing else in the world mattered. It was part of his charm.

He gave a low chuckle. “No,” he said, to which she raised her eyebrows, so he quickly added, “I mean you are a little...” He paused as if choosing his words carefully, “...away sometimes.” She gave a resigned sigh. She was aware of her distractions, but she really would have preferred not to address them tonight. Before she could entirely withdraw from him, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. His gaze still held hers, intense. His breath warm against her skin. Then his thumb trailed over the wedding band she had been fiddling with. “It’s your tell.”

“The wedding ring? Is it a tell that I’m married to you?”

“You play with it when you are anxious or preoccupied. I see you, I know.”

Of course he did, just as she knew his tells. The way he furrowed his brows. The way he sometimes seemed to be searching for the right words. The way his quill hung in the air just so when he was writing, as if ready to catch the next word mid-air. She knew some of those tells, but living together, they had become mirrors for each other. They saw each other, they knew each other—sometimes, she thought, better than they knew themselves.

“I find it comforting,” she said to him, her hand suspended in the air between them. “Even if my writing days end up in ashes, I have this, I have you. It’s a promise that things will be all right.”

“That will not happen. It’s just a new normal, but by now, I believe we are adept at dealing with new normals.” He gently caressed her belly. “I think you’ll be writing as long as you’re breathing, and I love you for it. But for what it’s worth, I’m very glad you love the ring. I was so nervous the day I had it designed.”

“You, nervous? Why?” He had been rather swift in his proposal and securing the rings, but she could imagine him poring over ring designs, trying to guess which she would prefer. She wished she could have told him that it didn’t matter; as long as it was him she was marrying, she would have been happy with any ring. But she particularly loved the one he had chosen, so she asked, “How did you choose it?”

At that, he smiled wider and brought both of her hands up so that the rings were visible, his thumbs gently caressing over them. “This one,” he said, holding the hand with her engagement ring more firmly, “reminded me of you. Its simplicity and delicacy reminded me of your voice in the letters you wrote me. Also, the jeweler told me it symbolized loyalty and faithfulness. This one,” he continued, bringing up her hand with the wedding ring, “was to symbolize the Bridgerton family.”

“Our family,” Penelope chimed in—a representation of the family she had always, in some ways, been a part of, whether unofficially or more officially now through marriage. A family that loved her, and she loved them as her own. A family that had welcomed her with open arms.

“Yes, our family,” Colin agreed, nodding. “I’m not sure why the bee became our symbol, especially considering...” He trailed off, his face somber, lost in a memory he seemed reluctant to revisit. “Well, you know,” he finished, his expression sober. “But then again, in the morning, the world had Hyacinth, and what an absolute force she is—both a joy to us and a threat to the world. So, the bee represents us, a cycle of our family, and apparently it also symbolizes celebration, prosperity, unity, and resilience.”

She looked at her rings and then up at him again. He had never fully explained why he had chosen those rings, but now she understood it better. “It’s a representation of us,” she said.

“Yes, us and what I hope our marriage will be.”

“Resilient,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “We certainly are that.”

“You more than anyone else I’ve known, although don’t let Eloise know I’ve said it.”

Penelope let out a small chuckle. “I don’t always feel resilient,” she admitted, her tone more serious.

“That’s what we do; we’re a team. We remind each other that we’ll find our way. Besides, you’ve faced much worse and come out of it.”

She leaned into him, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. She allowed herself to be enveloped in the warmth of his embrace, and as they swayed gently in the flickering light of the surrounding candles, she felt the weight of her responsibilities, the demands of the Queen, and the expectations of the ton seep away. For a moment, she was a girl again—not a mother, not a famous writer—just a girl dancing in the arms of the boy she loved, who, by some twist of fate, loved her back just as much and had decided to intertwine his life with hers.

After what felt like an instant but must have been longer for the clock now struck close to ten, Penelope stopped their swaying. “Would you stay? Would you write with me? Or read? But stay until I’m finished?”

Colin gently kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I’ll always stay with you.”

She rose on her tiptoes, her hand coming around his neck, pulling him down to her. Their breath mingled before his lips found hers, pulling her closer as she let out a small moan. His hands traveled up her back, sending shivers down her spine, while her own hands gripped at the lapels of his jacket before finding their way into his hair. His lips moved downward, along the side of her mouth, down her cheek, then her neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses. His hands grew more frenetic, gripping the fabric of her dress.

“Colin,” she whispered between a protest and a pant, “Colin.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, the vibration warm against her collarbone.

“I have to finish... the Queen... the printer...”

She tried to grasp for words, for sense and logic, even as she attempted to push him away in vain. Truth be told, if he didn’t stop kissing her now, she wouldn’t care much about anything else besides their own needs and desires. That's how quickly Penelope had become pregnant after giving birth to Thomas.

“Colin,” she said more insistently, feeling her resolve to finish her column hanging by a thread.

“All right, all right,” Colin said, stealing one last kiss before meeting her eyes with hooded dark blue eyes. “One day, I’ll have a word with the Queen.”

“And tell her what? That you’d prefer me in our bedchambers rather than behind my writing desk?”

“Now that’s an idea!” he exclaimed, beaming as if it were the best idea she’d ever suggested.

“I’m afraid she’d find it preposterous, considering she’s the queen and managed to have a plethora of children.”

“Does that mean you’re open to the idea of having a plethora of children?” he asked, playfully stealing her words.

She chuckled, “Let’s have our second, and then we’ll discuss the possibility of having more.”

“Discuss? Because you want to discuss what we’ll do in our bedchambers if having more children is not an option?”

“You know what I’d really like to do right now?”

“No, tell me.”

“Finish it,” she said, looking back at her desk and the half-written piece of paper, “so that we may go to our bedchambers and discuss all of this afterwards.”

He seemed to catch her suggestive look, as he did not protest. Instead, he kissed her forehead before leaving the room momentarily, returning with a fresh stack of paper and settling down at his own desk, positioned next to hers.

Penelope smiled as she watched him concentrate, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. She felt a renewed sense of purpose and returned to her desk. The page was no longer daunting; it was a canvas waiting for her to paint with words. With a deep breath, she picked up the quill once more. This time, the words flowed more easily, each sentence building upon the last. The gossip and intrigues of the ton found their place in her column. She wrote with a clarity and sharpness that had eluded her earlier.

As the clock struck midnight, Penelope set down her quill and read through her work. A smile of satisfaction spread across her face. It was done.

She stretched before standing and walking to stand behind Colin’s chair. Sensing her presence, he had stopped writing, but his focus remained on the page before him. She slid her arms around him, her hands running up and down his chest. She whispered, “Want to go discuss your writing in our bedroom?”

“Absolutely!” he said, rising and kissing her passionately.

#I guess I write polin fic now #I actually had a lot of fun writing it #hopefully you like it even a little #I'm not sure it's very good and I'm sure it's very long #polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #polin fanfiction #mine #my writing

77 notes · View notes

silentcryracha · 4 months ago

Text

❍ ‗ Watching a movie with Han ‗ ❍

Pairing : Han Jisung x f reader

Summary : chapter five of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, fluff, suggestive but no actual smut, everyone yaps and is a nerd, homebody! Jisung is real, some swear words

Word count : 600 words

A/n : none

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Watching anything, not just a movie, but a tv show, an anime, a short, a music video, literally anything, is an experience.

Each one unique and requiring at least a whole five minutes of commentary.

He's the kind of guy who feels like his life changed completely after viewing a certain product. He will gen into it so much, from the possible lore or original material, the music, the character takes and analysis from twitter users. He's probably one of them

It's so funny actually because you can pretty much guess what mood he's in by the type of thing he recommends watching. A sad movie? He's in his feels and probably lowkey needs a good cry. A fun anime? He wants to have fun and not pay too much attention, probably just relax.

A horror movie? He either wants to try and scare you and then act like the knight in shining armor (he's actually shitting himself too, trust)

"Shit! They just did a jumpscare, I didn't expect one two seconds later!" a couple of popcorns jumping out of the bowl.

"Oh no did that ugly nun scare my princess?" he wraps your shoulders with his arm, voice comically condescending, "Does she want a kiss to make it better?"

"Don't even try it, Sung. I saw you jump too, loser"

A thriller or dramatic movie? Probably feels the need to overthink something other than his life, and most likely have a nice, interesting conversation.

He's also quite strict with seeing new episodes from a series he hasn't seen before. He doesn't like to watch stuff in your presence unless you are also watching them. He much prefers your company anyway, feels also a bit disrespectful and in general he probably wants to focus on the plot.

He's usually pretty silent and concentrated but if it's a rewatch or he's purposefully showing you something he just yaps. So much. He NEEDS you to feel things as he felt them, you know?

"Baby, there! Did you see that shot? It's so fucking genius actually, will be so important for the plot later on"

"Don't spoil!" you exclaim, annoyed.

"Yah, I didn't spoil, I just commented on how good the shot was!" he defended, as you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Shush."

But it's actually stronger than him, I fear.

"The composer using that bit of music during that scene..I know what they're doing"

"How can you hate someone so much but also enjoy their presence at the same time? Such good acting"

But don't get me wrong! He loves to hear you yap just as much. He's actually so in awe, looking at you with those big round eyes and an amused smile.

"Am I talking too much? Ah, sorry baby" you chuckle embarrassed as you catch yourself basically covering the audio of the movie.

He shakes his head with a smile, still with those adoring eyes. Like you could do no wrong, ever.

"No, my baby. You could be literally reading a cooking book, I don't care. You look too pretty."

But when you've both seen the movie/series in question and it's NOT a sad one...it's over. You both know damn well it's just part of the game foreplay at that point.

"Honey, how about we just chill and rewatch this? It was fun last time"

And just like last time, this time was indeed fun, since the movie was left on his own to the end credits as you were blowing each other's backs out.

It's a given at that point, I don't make the rules

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

69 notes · View notes

yuusishi · 11 months ago

Note

Hello, can i ask for Idia or Ace (I can't choose between the two the one I want, so you can choose it), Lilia and Ruggie (my man need more love) hc with a reader that adopt legally Grim ? Like, now Grim have the last name of reader, and he call reader his dad/parent, and they have to be approved by Grim to date the reader ?

(separate please)

Have a good day/night (sorry for my bad english)

-Anon

. . . INTRO TO NON-HUMAN PARENTHOOD

pairings : Ace Trappola , Lilia Vanrouge , Ruggie Bucchi x gn!reader

genre : fluff , written with graduated!reader + characters in mind , established relationship

cws/tws : very tiny book 7 spoilers…like rlly small

a/n : it feels so weird not having any work done since my teachers assigned all our work before christmas break so we’d be able to rest

ACE TRAPPOLA !!

If he has to be honest, he doesn't know how to feel, not in a bad way tho!! He's so used to teasing Grim as a part of the first years friend group, but now that he's legally your child (and by extension his son), it just feels weird sometimes.

But in the end their relationship doesn't change one bit, this also means there's endless bickering whenever Ace comes by your place.

The one thing he can't get used to is though is Grim referring to you as his parent. I mean, c'mon, if you've been hearing "henchmen", "my human" for years it's bound to be quite the change.

During the legal adoption process, he's the type to be beside you searching on his cheap little laptop the meaning of so many words on the documents you're meant to sign (this is his way of helping you).

It doesn't sink in for a while that the three of you are technically a family, you occasionally joke about getting married in the (probably near) future and making Grim be the ringbearer or flowerboy.

One night when Ace crashed at your place, you came home to see him and Grim passed out on the couch next to each other, even seeing two slices of pizza purposefully left for you and hints of the tomato sauce stuck on the edges of the two's lips. You smile, nothing truly changes with these two.

Lilia Vanrouge !!

He's SO excited.

Silver's getting a new stepbrother once the legal process is done.

He's slightly disappointed though that, since Grim is already grown at this point, he won't be able to raise him like he did with Malleus and Silver but he'll still consider him a son either way.

I don't think unwanted fatherhood included brushing up on law and the adoption process so your guess on what terms on the documents mean is as good as his.

But we have the internet! Like Ace he's searching the meanings and making sure you understand the depth of every word printed onto the documents. Although he's hasn't formally adopted a child, he at least knows the legal repercussions that could happen should anything happen to Grim.

Overall, he's happy to have a new addition to his family :) First it was Malleus, then Silver came by, then Sebek, then now you and Grim.

When he first heard Grim refer to you as his parent, he can’t help imagining if Grim would call him “dad” or “father” like Silver does [cue heart attack].

He thinks about his general days occasionally, especially when he gazes on as you and Grim play around the field near the house he found after leaving NRC. He did not enjoy the war, not in the slightest, but maybe fighting in it was worth it if this was the type of future he's able to enjoy.

Ruggie Bucchi !!

He was really surprised, as in super surprised.

The entire concept of parenthood didn’t interest Ruggie in the slightest since it just meant more money to spend, even if it meant you had a little bundle of joy, but when you said that you were legally adopting Grim…

He looked at you like you set off a bomb in front of him 😭.

But after calming down a bit, he realized that Grim wouldn’t be even more of a handful than he already is since it’s not like he’s a baby that needs 24/7 caring.

Ruggie’s worked a ton of part time jobs just to earn some extra cash while on Sage’s Island, so he’s definitely dabbled in the law in one way or another.

He’s also just generally smart so he was your go-to man in asking the meaning of some legal jargon and he was happy to help you free of charge.

Hearing Grim call you his parent for the first time and even refer to you as that when you’re all at home surprised him a lot.

You’re telling him the little brat that always called you “human” and “henchman” in NRC calls you his parent now?? He can’t believe it.

After finally being able to adopt Grim, he didn’t feel the need to act “fatherly” since he’s known you both for years ever since NRC. Sure, he might be more open to going on midnight snack runs, but that’s it!

When reality sets down on him that he actually has his own ‘family’ now, it was a strange feeling. A sort of bittersweet happiness. It was a dream to him that he wishes would never go away, and you were there to remind him that this was his reality.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie x reader

368 notes · View notes

demonicnarwhale · 1 month ago

Text

So for my first project in my Proprint class, we had to make 5 separate prints (draw or photograph something then print it on a 17x22 paper, same thing as last semester) so here's my stuff!!! Oh! And the prompt was basically anything but monochromatic or black and white, but we can either use one or two colors

They're all based on my Small Town AU because I thought it'd help get my ideas for this AU thingy situated a bit, and cuz it's fun

The first one to start us all off is Doc Scratch! The one and only, the catalyst (if you will) of this small town turning to shit. It's basically him bringing a sort of day of reckoning thing going on. But not like reckoning in the idea that they're getting judged by god or whatever. In this case, Scratch himself just plays around in this universe (this is the "bad" ending). Basically, the townsfolk begin to turn and hurt each other (reasoning will be explained in the 2nd project tehee and the wording here is like this just so I don't spoil too much) (also the top is just the different edits I came across and thought looked pretty)

Motifs / Symbolisms:

- The time on the clock reads 3:19. So specifically Genesis 3:19 is pretty much just when Adam and Eve are cast out of the Garden of Eden. The idea here is that Scratch will turn this thriving and self sufficient, almost found-family-like town into a big ol' graveyard. That paradise they all have come to enjoy and build a community together? Buh-bye!!! Cast out! Into the miseries!!!

- The picture of the oil painting is of The Agnew Clinic 1889 painted by Thomas Eakins. The painting was commissioned in honor of David Hayes Agnew, a pretty well known and respected surgeon of his time, a leader in a way. And I just felt like Scratch would have some of these "lesser" known art pieces of important figures of the past around his house. (Die would approve of this painting I believe)

- The apples are purposefully way too round, almost Christmas tree ornament looking. It's to allude to this feeling or idea of something being too perfect, but very off putting. Basically Doc Scratch himself. He's a man that's a part of the town but also not there. He's a total enigma for everyone and most people will chose to just accept that and just be cordial with him, that placid and simple smile just has something deeper going on teehee

- The card he holds is a nod to tarot ones (obvious I know but I ain't no tarot or star signs believer so I had to search up which card would make sense here). So seven of swords just means betrayal so haha on the nose

- There was gonna be a violin added but I just wanted to get this drawing done so I said "screw that". The reason why I was gonna go with the violin is cuz that idea of "haha Scratch is another name for the devil" and I remembered a song The Devil Went Down to Georgia which I fuckin dig. Also the idea of the devil having a violin playing contest with a kid is so fucking funny cuz he got his ass kicked. (oh yeah and just the idea of the devil being associated with the violin)

So yeah! I just had a lot of fun just coming up with this drawing and doing a little breaking the frame/boarder with the small apple branches reaching into the top box.

What can I say? I love marine associated themes so of course I gotta draw Trace and Fin. Oh and the sketches (or draft) I did just made me feel so proud and happy. Cuz even though it's a bunch of mumbo jumbo, it all just managed to flow out really well with this one. It's a shame that the digitalized final piece isn't as impressive to me as my sketches. The two compasses are also pointed at 3:00 and 5:00 cuz, ya know. That's their numbers. The fish from bottom to top are sockeye salmon, moray eel, tunas, and I didn't look at one fish for the ref with the top one but let's go with red snapper.

i sadly had to rush this one as it was getting close to critique day (aka the 26th) and some of my other classmates needed to print too so I didn't want to get in their way and such later on. (originally we had to make 5 prints but he saw not a lot of people would be able to so he cut it down to just 3. And so I already had 3 prints done so why not just let everyone else who really needed to print, print)

So this print was going to have PM, AR, and WV doing their own things (as seen in the first draft) but I changed things up so it'd be simpler and allow me to work on the last 2 prints. But hey! At least WV's there!! And then I was messing with shadows and the last one just looked really funny. OH! Oh and the 2422 was when PM made her appearance in the webcomics (at least, that's what I think or recall) and since that's her plane, it was a little nod. And this is her logo thing (still being worked on but you get the gist of it)

I do however feel hella bummed that I wasn't able to keep the mechanic tidbits (for AR) in this drawing since I hate drawing cars, the tools I tried drawing didn't fit the look of the finalized drawing. I'm sorry AR </3. Oh and I completely forgot about WV's lil torn up red flag, but it wouldn't really match i feel anyways in the end results. WV being a farmer, PM a mail woman hence the stamps, and AR being a (car) mechanic!!!

Ok so that's all for now, I'll upload the 4th and 5th print and photos of them all printed in another post since this is fuckin lengthy

PT2 HERE

#my art #eels art for college #the felt #the exiles #intermission small town #Doc Scratch #Trace #Fin #WV

23 notes · View notes

soggyriceee · 1 year ago

Note

helloooo, how are you doing?? i was wondering if you could write a sort of sequel for the fic where price makes reader use the safe word where he is worried he's gonna hurt her again. If you can't its okay though <3 have a nice day/evening wtv byyye <3333

im fine | Captain Price

summary: your feeling needy and begin to try and get Price to touch you, but he cant bring himself to it

warning: female!reader, office sex, praise, oral(f!recieving), needy Price, sir kink

thank you anon for your request, I hope you enjoy <33

it had been about a month since you and Price last had sex. and it was draining you. everything he did felt like a tease to you. he got something on the top of the fridge for you? instantly wet. or he leaned down to hear you speak better? you could drop to your knees and suck him dry then and there. but as much as you yearned for him and his touch, he never initiated anything.

and you knew it was because of the last time you both had sex. he could shake the image of your limp body, your tears. the blood on your body from his own doing. he felt like he had failed you and swore to never let his own needs and lust control him like that again.

but you also never really initiated anything. you would give him small hints, like rubbing your arse onto him when you guys would cuddle. or wearing purposefully tight clothing, or his clothing. all of those things would usually turn him on and make him fuck you then and there. but he did nothing. nothing broke him. he was genuinely scared and worried to touch you. but you had enough. you needed to feel him inside you again.

so, when Price came home from shopping, you had an idea. he almost always goes into his office around the time you began to make dinner, working on paperwork and preparing for whatever mission was coming up, if any. so instead of cooking, you decided you'd seduce him into fucking you. or at least eating your pussy. anything.

" hi my love. I got mostly everything on the list. they were out of the jasmine rice so I got regular old rice. is that okay?" he asked, his accent booming into the kitchen. you turned to him and nodded, taking a second to bask in his handsomeness. he wore a black leather jacket, black pants and his black military boots. on top of his head was a black beanie, adding onto the whole black look. it made your pussy clench immediately, seeing the way he dressed do well in casual clothes.

"love?" he called out, realizing you were starring at him like some sort of meal. you shook your head, smiling up at him. " yes thats fine." you said softly before turning back to place the last dish in the dishwasher. he chuckled softly before walking over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "ill be in my office." he said before making his way out the kitchen.

when you confirmed he had entered his office, you moved quickly into your shared room, applying a bit of lotion and some perfume to your skin. you wanted to smell perfect for him, seeing as it was one of his turn ons. he loved the perfume you had, especially if it was one he bought for you. so you pulled out your sexiest scent, his favorite scent, Christian Dior. he got it for you on Christmas and you definetly scolded him for spending so much on a small perfume bottle. but you loved it just as much and wore it every night you both had something planned.

you walked over to your mirror, pulling off the large hoodie you had on. underneath was your new pair of black stockings, a pink ribbon on each side of your hip. your underwear matched, black lace as was your bra. you ordered it a week or two back and now that it was finally in, you could go through with your plan.

you cleaned your throat, turning your body a bit to the side to see how your body looked before giving yourself a small smile before grabbing a plain white shirt to cover your upper half. fixing yourself for the umpteenth time, you made your way out into the hallway, and towards his office.

it was a bit nerve wrecking, you had to admit. you were never one to take charge and initiate anything. not this direct at least. it was almost always Price. you had no clue what to do if he did accept and wanted you to top him, or if this doesn’t go as planned and you just embarrass yourself. would this ruin your relationship? or help it? you were sure he was just as needy for you as you were for him. especially with all the subtle teasing you’ve been doing. so why wouldn’t he be?

you were so caught up in the what ifs, you hadn’t realized you were standing directly in front of his office door. you looked at the door, your hand on the knob as you began to re think to yourself if this was a good idea or not. but then, your ears picked up on some noise from inside. like, squelching?

you slowly opened the door, peeking only your head in. your jaw opened in awe when your eyes landed on Price. his bent over figure, head tossed to the side with his eyes closed, mouth slightly agape. he let out the software moans, a few whimpers as his hips moved into what looked like the desk. but that’s when your eyes made out the small curve of an arse, a surprisingly small one at that. “f-fuck love.. g’nna cum soon.. so close” he groaned, moving his hips faster

you quickly realized in his hand was a sex toy. a fleshlight. your hand came over your mouth, the impact of skin to skin loud enough to catch Price’s attention. his eyes shot open, meeting yours immediately. you wanted to cry, confused as to why he was using a toy instead of the real thing. for a moment you thought it was because he simply wasn’t sexually attracted to you anymore.

“l-lovie i-“ he stopped, throwing the toy on the floor and pulling his pants up. but you were already heading out the door, clenching your jaw to hold back the tears. “wait, wait.” his arm reached out from his office in perfect timing to grip onto your wrist, pulling you back inside. but the tears were already dropping one by one from your eyes.

“please listen to me i-“ “are you no longer attracted to me.” you blurted out, your voice trembling from the tears. he remained silent before sighing, rubbing his hands down his face. “i knew that was a bad idea” he mumbled to himself before looking down at you. you couldn’t meet his gaze, you were to hurt and set on you not being up to his standards anymore.

“ i do. i find you so fucking beautiful my love. but i.. i’m scared.” he admitted, taking your hands in his. you looked up at him, confusion more than anger on your face. “ i’m scared of hurting you again. of making you get to the point where you can’t even take care of yourself. it hurt me to see you like that.. i remind myself every time of what i did to you that night whenever i feel like pulling you to the side and fucking you. i bought the doll as a distraction. i’m sorry my love.. i should’ve gone to you.” he said, looking down at you with pleading eyes.

for a moment you remained silent. you had no clue what you were supposed to say to that. you were happy it wasn’t because he didn’t see you as attractive. but also sad that he’s to scared of himself, if hurting you to satisfy his own needs. Price had always put you first no matter what. for once you just wished he’d put himself first too.

“John I.. I’m fine. it was a one time thing. that will never happen again, okay? you got carried away one night it doesn’t dictate our sex life for the rest of our relationship.” you finally said, walking closer into him. he reached out and pulled you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “ i just can’t see you like that again my love.” he whispered, gripping onto you tighter.

you both stayed like this for a moment until you pulled away, looking up at him. “i got all.. dressed up for you.” you did a small spin, looking back at him to see a smile on his face, his wrinkles at the corner of his eyes making you smile. “i see.. you smell so good too.” he said softly, eyeing you up and down. you giggled and nodded, looking down. “yea i put on the perfume you like. i was hoping it would get you in the mood.” you said softly, your eyes staring at his abdomen.

he was silent for a moment before taking a step closer to you. he grabbed your hand, placing a soft kiss at the top. “what if it’s working?” he asked, looking down at you. a blush was quick to appear across your face, a small giggle leaving you. he smiled down before pulling you over to his desk. he sat in his chair, pulling you down onto his lap. your thighs sat at either side of his lap, your hands on his shoulders.

his hand slid to the side of your face, pulling you into him for a kiss. it was passionate from the start, his tongue sliding in your mouth, sucking your tongue gently before pulling away, making moves to your neck. you gasped softly, tilting your head to the side more as his teeth nibbled at your skin, kissing or licking the same spot. “j-john” you whispered, pulling away from him.

his eyes moved up to yours, worry on his face. “are you okay? did i do anything?” he asked quickly, eyes darting across your face. you smiled and shook your head. “i just.. want to know if this is really what you want..” you said, “if this is what your comfortable doing.” his face and body relaxed, a soft breath coming from his lips. “ yes, my love. this is what i want.. i’ve been craving you for so long.” he said, eyes drifting down your body.

you blushed, looking away from him. “missed touching you like this, feeling your body pressed against mine.” his hips grabbed the curve of your hips, pulling you closer into his chest. your cunt rested perfectly above his bulge, his hips pressing up just a bit. “missed touching you, making you feel good.” his lips found their way back to your neck, his nose breathing in your scent. “fuck.. missed smelling you.” his hips again pressed up into your pussy, a small moan leaving his lips.

your pussy gripped around nothing, yearning for his dick to fill it up. you felt your own wetness every time you shifted in his lap, only making you want him more. his hands worked up the shirt you had on, stopping at the bra. his lips detached from your neck, looking at his hands under your shirt. “is this a new set?” he asked, looking you up and down again. he was so focused on making sure you knew he still was attracted to you, he hadn’t realized the new set you had on.

you smiled and nodded, lifting the shirt for him. he licked his lips quickly before his hands gripped your bra, pulling the cups down. your boobs jumped out, your nipples already hard for him. “so fucking perfect.” he whispered, cupping one in his hand. he leaned forward, taking the other one in his mouth. his tongue traced a circle over your nipple, a soft breathy moan leaving your lips. you hands found the back of his head, your fingers rubbing through his brown hair.

he gently pulled your nipple with his teeth, his hips bucking forward. your head fell back, back arching in his lap as his mouth and fingers worked wonders on your nipples. but he was eager for something other than just your boobs.

“princess..” he mumbled into your chest before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting his lips back to your nipple. “need you to sit on my desk for me. can you do that?” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours. you didn’t hesitate to nod, practically jumping onto the wooden desk. he chuckled as he watched your eager self rest onto his desk, your legs spreading apart.

“missed getting your pussy eaten that much huh?” he joked, dropping to his knees. his hands found the backs of your knees, holding them firmly. “my fingers don’t do enough for me anymore.” you responded, your hands cupping your exposed boob. “i know baby.. but i’m gonna take care of you now, okay?” he said, kissing your inner thigh

you watched as his face disappeared between your legs, his lips pressing a kiss each time he moved closer up to your pussy. his hands remained right behind your knees, pulling you closer into his face. when he got to your cunt, he took one hand and pulled your panties to the side, allowing his nose to press into your clit, a gasp leaving your lips. he chuckled before pressing his lips to your pussy, his tongue moving slowly up between your folds, then back down.

your head fell back as you listened to him suck and lick your cunt. collecting every drop of wetness that came from you. his tongue pressed into your hole slowly, only to drag it back out just as slow. you could tell immediately he was being more gentle with you, more cautious. usually he’d have his fingers in you while his tongue sucked into your clit, fucking his fingers into your hole fast and desperately.

but now, his tongue was doing all the work, giving you soft licks up and down your slit or slow thrusts in and out your hole. you needed more. you needed him to fuck you like he never will be able to again.

you pulled the back of his head gently, whining for his attention. he looked up at you, his nose already shiny with your slick and his own saliva. “are you okay, am i being to rough?” he asked, the grip on your back knees loosening. “no.. if anything your not being rough enough. are you sure you want to do this?” you asked, looking down at him with a serious, stern look.

he sighed before leaning back on the heels of his feet. “i do my love but i can’t put you back in that position. it hurt me and scared me to see you like that. and i know it hurt and scared you even more.” his eyes drifted from your eyes to your knees. you smiled and took his hand, gripping it gently. “it won’t get to that point, i promise. i want to have our regular old sex back.” you said, looking down at him.

his eyes drifted back up to yours, reading your face. “i will be okay. i promise.” his eyes drifted down to your pussy before looking back up at you. “okay.” he nodded before scooting back closer to you. his lips immediately went for your clit, sucking it into his mouth. his ring and middle finger found your home, slowly sliding inside. you gasped above him, your eyes crossing from the double pleasure you just felt.

one hand went back to the back of his head, the other pressing flat in his desk to hold you up. “f-fuck John.. just like that~” you whined, moving your hips against his face. he groaned between your thighs before his fingers moved faster, his tongue circling your clit to match the pace of his fingers. “fuck your so wet” he mumbled against your pussy, scissoring his fingers inside you.

of course, with this amount of pleasure he was giving your pussy, your stomach began to knot and you knew you were close. “j-john i’m c..close” you whined, your thighs pressing harder on either side of his face. “cum on my face baby i know you can do it.. come on” he encouraged, looking up at you as he continued to abuse your pussy.

the sounds were sinful. he was licking and slurping your cunt so well, small groans leaving his own lips every so often. your hand remained on the back of his head, your hips moving in desperation on his face. “that’s it baby.. fuck yourself on my face.” he said, sticking his tongue out into your cunt.

you whined, gripping his hair more. your legs twitched beside him and soon after, the knot in your stomach came undone. your cum completely covered his tongue, some of his dripping down his chin. “fuck yes baby just like that.. fuck” he groaned, pulling you closer into his face.

his tongue lapped up all your cum, the slurping sound filling the room once again. your body gently shook above him, your chest rising and falling quickly. “j-john~” you moaned softly, slowly resting on his desk. his tongue made slow movements up and down your cunt, his head moving in small circles around your clit, following his tongue.

your eyes fluttered close as your came over your high, chest rising and falling slowly. he slowly got to his feet, looking down at you. “tired already?” he asked, patting your hip. you shook your head, peeking your eyes open. “not even a tiny bit.”

he chuckled before leaning down, pressing a kiss to your lips. your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer into you. “need you to fuck me.” you breathed against his lips, looking into his eyes through your lashes. he smiled down at you before he pushed himself up and off you. his hands made quick movements to undo his belt, dropping his pants to his ankles. his hands spread your legs open, your shiny cunt the first thing he sees.

he licked his lips, a small smile spreading on his lips. he grabbed the base of his dick, slapping it on your covered cunt. your fingers dipped down, pulling your drenched panties to the side. again, his tip slapped against your cunt. he watched as your lips ever so slightly shook with each slap he gave them before pressing his tip between your folds. you looked down, watching him play with your pussy. “john..” you whined impatiently, swinging your legs. he chuckled, shaking his head softly.

“so impatient aren’t we?” he said, replacing your hand with his. you smiled with anticipation, watching as his hips slowly moved forward, feeling his tip push into you. a gasp left the both of you simultaneously, a quick glance shared between you both. it was the first time in a month you’d felt something full you up, and he’d felt something real and authentic.

he pushed deeper inside you, stretching your kissy out perfectly around his dick. he groaned, one hand slamming beside your head, the other on your hip. “raise those legs baby come on. wanna fuck into you deep.” he breathed out, nodding towards your legs. instantly you raised them, pressing them to your chest as best you could.

his head fell back, his adams apple bouncing up for a moment. “you .. are you tight.” he groaned, pulling his hips back slowly. he wanted you to feel every inch of him, and he wanted to feel every inch of your warmth. your head fell back, your hands gripping onto his biceps. when he bottomed out inside you, he remained still for a moment.

“feel okay?” he asked, looking down at you. you nodded your head lazily, looking up at him through your lashes. “please.. fuck me.” you whispered, clenching around him. he groaned at the sudden tightness around his length, his head falling to the side. he slid out of you and pushed back inside, finding a pace and rhythm for your you both.

your back laid flat on his desk, your head slightly hanging off the edge. he took your legs and rested them on his shoulders, quickly placing his hands back on your hips. he picked up the speed of his thrusts slowly, hitting deeper inside you with each one. “fuck y-your so deep sir.. feels so good�� you cried out, your hands finding the edge of his desk to hold onto.

one thing about John was he loved it when you called him sir. he loved when he had some sort of power over you. not to the point he was controlling of course, but when you’d give up into him, give him complete control and power. man he loved it. “i bet you do love. this pussy so wet for me.” he moaned, gripping your hips harder.

your body jerked up with each thrust he gave, his tip hitting your cervix each time. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth falling open. “ look at you, so fucking pretty. feel like cumming already.” he groaned, watching as your face twisted in pleasure. your eyes landed onto his above you, giving him the most innocent look you could manage to make. “feel too good sir.. so sensitive.” you whined, clenching around him again.

another thing John loved. when you made that cute little face. nothing made him cum faster than that. “fuck love.. don’t l-look at me like that.” he groaned, looking away from you quickly. but your whimpers and moans were everything but helpful in helping him hold back his orgasm. your pussy was still sensitive to touch from your previous orgasm, his pounding only made it more sensitive.

his fingers bruised your sides for sure, but you didn’t care. in fact you loved it. you wanted him to mark you up like he always does. and you were more than happy he was finally becoming okay with having you guys’ normal, rough sex.

“sir your s-so big.. fuck i cant take it.” you whined, arching your back off his desk. you were teasing him at this point, hoping to get him to cum first. he never came before you did, never. “i’m a gentleman, my love.” you remember him saying the first night you both hooked up. and he kept to his word. he never finished before you. not until tonight.

“c-come on love don’t s-say that.” he groaned, his head dropping. you smirked, up at him, giving him your doe eyes. “but you s-so big. feel so full.” his hips moved quicker, his nails digging into your hips. “baby please..” he whimpered out, trying to stop himself from cumming. “ need you to fill me up sir.. please.” you begged, clenching around him again.

his breath picked up, his hips slowing. “not gonna cum before you do.” he growled, looking down at you.

but you had different plans.

you looked up at him, your hands wrapping around his shoulders to pull him down. your lips latched onto his neck, biting and sucking his skin. another one of his weaknesses. “my god baby.. stop-fuck-stop doing this to me.” he whined, fucking into your faster. he couldn’t maintain the slow pace, he needed to cum.

your arms wrapped around him, your legs wrapping around his hips. “cum in me sir.. need you to cum in me.” you whispered in his ear, clenching around him again. his breathing picked up again, arms wrapping around your waist. “my god love.. gonna make me cum.” he groaned, slamming into you.

his desk began to scrape against the floor, your body jerking up with each thrust he gave you. just as he was about to cum, your second orgasm began to build up. “fuck keep going sir, please. so close.” you cried out, removing your lips from his neck.

“fuck baby- can’t hold it.” he moaned, his head digging into your neck. his legs gave out slightly, his orgasm rushing over him. he chanted your name into your neck quietly, pulling you into his chest. “f-fuck” he growled, slamming into you deeper.

his body laid on top of yours, his hips still moving to get you to your end. “come on baby cum for me.. wanna feel you cum on my dick.” he whispered, hands still on your hips.

your hands found their way back to the edge of the desk, lifting your hips up to feel him deeper. “right there sir - please” you cried out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. he raised his body, watching you squirm beneath him. his hand found it’s way to your lower stomach, pressing down on it. “ so deep inside you, so deep in this pussy.” he moaned, watching you with hooded eyes.

with the pressure of his hand and the force of each thrust, your high cane and went very quickly. he moaned as your cum completely coated his dick, watching your body shake. “f-fuck John” you cried out, legs gripping his neck. “that’s it baby just like that.. just like fucking that.” he moaned, thrusting gently into you.

as he rode out your high, your eyes looked up at him. his eyes were already on yours, a soft smile on his lips. “how are you feeling?” he asked, taking your hand to press a kiss on your palm. “good. really really good.” you smiled.

he nodded before looking down, watching himself pull out. you both moaned quietly at the feeling, a small pop sound coming from your cunt as he pulled out fully. “i’ll clean you up and we can cook together.” he said, pulling his pants up from his ankles. nodding, you watched him walk away, preparing to clean you up. you were happy that you were finally able to get Price back to his old self. so much so, you could stop from pulling him back between your legs again when he came back, begging him for a round two.

you both ended up eating dinner very, very late that night.

#cod #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #captain price #konig fanfiction #captain john price

184 notes · View notes

allastoredeer · 8 months ago

Note

~Lucifer blanches. He looks around, as if trying to find a sense of Alastor’s words somewhere in the trash-heap he calls a room, before rounding back to him, lips pulling up in disgust. “Are you asking me out?”

“Ahaha!” Alastor laughs, slapping him so hard on the back it nearly takes Lucifer off his feet. “Oh, Heavens no. I’m just proposing we let Hell continue thinking that you and I are,” he waves his hand, searching for the word, “in cahoots. In that way.”~

This is golden comedy right here. Honestly every time I read ur fic I always start wheezing so hard I can’t breathe, u are an amazing writer, hope u know that. When I saw ur last update on the ‘damage control’ chapter i was so excited i devoured it so fast help

Alastor saying he wants to be in ‘cahoots’ with Lucifer it’s so funny to me cause no one use that term anymore, and Lucifer is just downright dumbfounded that they are even having the conversation. I can imagine the shadow rolling his eyes at them, we need more sassy shadow moments, he is so underrated. 😭😭

I love that Lucifer is trying to respect Al boundaries, especially after the ‘incident’ , and doesn’t pry to much on his scars, but now I am curious about what did Al meant. Does he not remember who did that to him? 🥺

Also I am curious about what they gonna tell to the others about their new found relationship. I don’t think Lucifer would want to lie to Charlie, but I also think that it would be too risky to make the whole crew knew they are acting, someone might slip. And it’s not like Al is gonna make it easy for Lucy anyway. If they want to be credible, less ppl knowing it’s best course of action for me.

Last thing~ I really wanted to thank you, cause ur fic really brings me a lot of joy since I recently only been able to find happiness in small things like these , and I I can’t wait to read more🌈

Hehehe, Alastor purposefully refusing to go into depth about their "sexual relationship," and even side-stepping outright calling it a relationship, is what's going to make it all more entertaining when he actually has to commit to the bit. Cuz you see, they're not fucking. They're "in cahoots."

It's different.

(I love Alastor's Shadow being sassy. If it's attached to Alastor, it has to be. I take no critiques.)

😈 Alastor and his scars is something I'm very excited to get into it. I've been thinking about them for a while, and while it may take a bit to actually get the answer, I'm very eager to get there when we do.

The way I see it, Alastor doesn't want to tell the others (as they already know their not actually dating--as he made VERY clear last time), but Lucifer isn't going to be okay with lying to Charlie. Out of the group, Alastor knows he can trust Husk and Niffty to keep it a secret. Maybe Angel Dust too. But he's most worried about Charlie and Vaggie.

Vaggie isn't a good liar, and Charlie's such an open, bright, heart-on-her-sleeves person, he doesn't trust her to keep up the ruse without letting something slip--most likely by accident.

But Lucifer is stubborn. He doesn't want to lie to Charlie, and if he tells Charlie, Charlie is going to tell Vaggie. If Vaggie knows, well, we already know she has a hard time lying on the spot, so if the others see Alastor and Lucifer suddenly "in cahoots," and ask about it, she's not going to be able to come up with a plausible excuse on the fly.

This is all to say, the next installment is going to be full of silly Hazbin Crew hijinks, where Alastor is forcefully enrolled into Chaggies Dating 101 Crash Course, and he is definitely not setting the grading curve. (And maybe we'll even get a bit of HuskerDust thrown in there, who knows. Certainly not me).

And it warms me so much to know that my fic can bring you joy in a time that such things are scarce 🥺 I can't wait to share more of the story with you!

#seriously #getting asks like these brighten my day to know end #I like keeping actual story elements and plot hooks a secret until we get there in the fic #but GOD #when you guys ask questions about it I just want to blab everything #ive got so many thoughts on the brain and I wanna SHAARRREEEE #Im so happy my fic is helping through a hard time #that's such an amazing thing to hear and i sincerely hope that whatever situation your in gets better #in the meantime #pls accept these absolute goofuses stumble their way into an actual queer relationship #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #lucifer morningstar #the radio demon #appleradio #lucifer magne #asks #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #niffty #charlotte morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #husk #hazbin husk

49 notes · View notes

hana-bobo-finch · 9 days ago

Text

OKAYYYYY!!! THE LAST PDBC POLL I DID RESULTED IN A FOUR WAY TIE (VERY GOOD FOR ME BECAUSE I LOVE TO YAP) SO I SHALL START OFF THE STRING OF LONG RAMBLING CHARACTER POSTS WITH MY BELOVED BELLONA!!! once again, because I’ve already talked about her a bit, there’ll be a lotta retreaded stuff. Also she, or really anyone else for that matter, does not have the sheer amount of lore that pumpkin daddy has, so this and the others will be a lot shorter (HEARTBREAKING) (IT’S ABOUT 3.9K WORDS COMPARED TO THE MONSTROUS 7K WORD PUMPKIN DADDY RANT)But nevertheless:

MUCH LIKE. PRETTY MUCH EVERY CHARACTER there is not a lot known about her early years (or, more accurately, I do not want to have to come up with anything for her early years). Her early life was pretty boring honestly. She grew up in a pretty secluded desert environment with her parents and older cousin. It’s never said what her family did for work, it’s left purposefully vague, actually, but it’s some sort of government job that’s extremely secretive. Do not ask about the mysterious government projects taking place in the desert, do not ask about the mysterious government’s projects taking place in the desert, DO NOT—

anyway her cousin is probably the only interesting thing about this time. Her cousin’s name is Glad (usually goes by her first and last name hyphenated together, so Glad-Yu) and she doesn’t have a mouth!! what!!! Yeah so Glad has a rare genetic condition that makes it so she doesn’t have a mouth (it also affects her hearing. She also has a distant relative who has the same condition, his name is Di and there is Literally nothing to know about him other than a very brief plot point that really doesn’t have anything to do with him directly). BUT DON’T WORRY SHE’S FINE she has a device that can transfer nutrients to her directly so not being able to eat isn’t a problem. As for communication, she just uses a kind of sign language. Anyways!!! Because she grew up in such a secluded area, only ever being around her cousin and parents, Bellona’s social skills are absolute garbage!!! Even aside from that, she’s also just kinda generally unsociable. Not in a social anxiety way, she just does Not Like most people and can be rude. One would be inclined to blame it on environmental factors or simple misunderstanding of social situations due to her very obvious lack of social skills, but alas, no. Perhaps sometimes that is the case, but for the most part, she’s just being an asshole, no way around it. She’s quite lovely to the people she does like, but to everyone else, not so much.

But back to the main timeline! Things actually start for her when she’s around 16ish. She very badly wanted to become a firefighter, but was too young to actually become one. She thought this was ABSOLUTE TRAVESTY. She was way in over her head and thought she was totally ready to do such a dangerous job (she was not!!!) and didn’t want to wait—she just wanted to jump into her career immediately. Luckily for her, or more so unluckily, there was a shady and definitely not official fire department that was oh so pleased to have such an enthusiastic new member! What joy! Haha it doesn’t matter you’re 16 you can join us (NO SHE CAN’T). By some miracle, things went alright for her in the first year or so. She was actually pretty good at her job, or at least as good as an inexperienced teenager could be. About a year into her quote unquote career, she got sent off to fight a 3 alarm fire, during which she got trapped. That alone would be bad enough, but because the fire department she worked for was extremely unprofessional, her safety gear didn’t work properly and it resulted in her getting badly burned from her shoulder to up to her ear.

She was for the most part fine, but was, understandably, extremely traumatized by the incident and became even more reclusive than before. By that point she’d moved out of her parent’s place and lived with Glad. Even through everything, still had that stubborn impatience and became EXTREMELY bored with doing nothing all the time. And being bored and impulsive is not a good combination!!! She eventually made the impromptu decision to go to medical school to become a doctor. Glad tried to talk her out of it, trying to convince her that it was NOT a good idea to do that, but Bellona was set in her ways and left the desert to go to some cheap-ass college. Surprisingly, she was extremely talented in the medical field despite having little to no experience. She landed an internship at the hospital she stayed at during the whole Almost Fucking Dying thing and in her free time developed ways to make Glad’s life easier. It became apparent rather quickly she was a bit of a savant in the medical field, instantly picking up on everything and getting perfect grades. Because of this she was offered to go to a more prestigious school on some faraway island with the weird-ass name of Fincg island. Oh wow this is all going well looks like her life is really on the up and up (WRONG) (DONT FORGET THAT SHE DIES BY THE END)

SO!!! Everything was…relatively stable for a while. Though the more time passed the more time she realized she was maybe starting to regret her career choices and she badly missed Glad. But it wasn’t all bad because she managed to actually get a social circle (SHOCKING), including a woman named Sirene. And Sirene was beautiful!!! Woah!!! So they began dating. How pleasant, I’m sure this can only end well! (it does not) BUUUT ANYWAY Bellona continued breezing through college (well. As much as you can breeze through something as tedious as med school) to become a surgeon, more specifically an orthopedic surgeon. “hey yknow isn’t it kinda strange how she’s doing that all so fast, I mean by this point she’s only freshly in her mid twenties—“ EXCELLENT OBSERVATION. I KNOW!! COUNTERPOINT, THERE ARE SENTIENT GRANOLA BARS IN THIS UNIVERSE, SO MED SCHOOL GOING FASTER THAN IN REALITY IS NOT THAT STRANGE. BUT DEFENDING PLOT HOLES ASIDE—yeah she was on the path to becoming an orthopedic surgeon. During this time, she also started babysitting a relative of hers in her spare time, Minerva. Minerva isn’t really relevant to the rest of this so don’t expect a lot about her BUT the point is, taking care of Minerva made Bellona realize “OH MAN I WANT KIDS.” Despite her being kind of uncaring to everyone else, she’s an absolute sweetheart towards kids and is surprisingly good with them. She WILL be rude to everyone around her but she will ALSO teach the precious little ones how to bake.

BUT ALAS!!! things with Sirene were Not working out!! Even after being together for a bit over a year it became obvious that there was no real spark between them. Sirene ABSOLUTELY BROKE AND DEMOLISHED bellona’s heart by breaking up with her although bellona wasn’t actually that upset but EEEEYIKES SHE WAS TOO BUSY WITH HER JOB TO UNPACK THOSE FEELINGS!!! and thus began a horrible string of failed relationships! Whoops! (Technically this stuff happens Later in the story but for the sake of clarity I’ll just put it all here in this section) she was out there speedrunning relationships and was VERY pissed off that nobody she dated was “the one”!!! Eventually though she started seeing one of her coworkers, a dude by the name of Dr. Faul. Faul is the human equivalent to a slice of white bread. Bland and inoffensive. He is also one of my favorite unimportant characters. Faul proposed to her while she was at his family’s home over the holidays and OH FUCK. OH SHIT. THAT IS SIRENE. yup turns out Sirene is faul’s sister. And she was there. There was an incredibly awkward moment of realization from the both of them, faul was over here pouring his heart out and bellona was just staring in pure terror at his sister who she was making out with sloppy style like 6 months ago. She kinda just reluctantly accepted his proposal to try to diffuse the awkwardness but then immediately went to talk to Sirene. Sirene apologized for dumping her so abruptly, and explained that she since realized the reason the relationship wasn’t working was because she was aromantic. Bellona was like “what the FUCK is an aromantic” and after having it explained to her there was a moment of horrified realization of “oh ok that explains a lot actually.” But alaaaas no matter how much Sirene tried to convince Bellona to just break off the engagement now NOPE it is TOO LATE I’m marrying your brother. Spoiler alert she did Not last long in that plan and like a week later she broke up with him. The breakup was recorded on a hacked security camera by some clown named JS (will get to him someday, he doesn’t have a lot to him but he was arguably the beginning of pdbc as a whole so he has a special place in my heart) and uploaded in a fail compilation online. Faul then earned the name Dr. Fail and he spent the rest of his days, as described by bellona, “wandering around like a lost spirit.” All that stuff Really isn’t important to the plot but I just so very much love Dr. Fail, he did nothing wrong but ended up being the victim of public ridicule

BUT OK. ALL THAT STUFF ASIDE. this is where things actually get interesting. Aka it is where the man the myth the legend PUMPKIN DADDY comes in. WOOOOOO so a patient came in, some fella who apparently was hurt in a horrible accident. and she HATED him right from the start. She didn’t even recognize him as the literal owner of the island, he was just this asshole who she had to deal with (she’s in general not very in tune with the customs of fincg island, never bothered to even try to adapt). Absolute piece of work, she did Not like him. Would probably have left him to suffer if it wasn’t her job to help him. Pumpkin daddy was pissed off the entire time and constantly trying to leave (NO you CANNOT just stand up and leave you have a SERIOUS BACK INJURY get the HELL BACK HERE) and just. yeah. It was the exact opposite of immediately hitting things off. I’ve mentioned before that her bedside manner was already iffy but for him especially she didn’t even try to hide her disdain. At the time she was not so subtly trying to get fired because she really started to hate her job but didn’t have the courage to up and quit, so she wasnt even trying to be nice in hopes of getting fired. But alas she was too talented and they kept her around. Buuut nonetheless she helped pumpkin daddy out of necessity. Unfortunately for her she was stuck around him for a while, and, as I mentioned in a previous long rambling post, they eventually developed a convoluted hate fueled not-friends-friendship. basically just bonded over their mutual hate for each other. Kinda gotta skip around a bit here bc I already yapped abt this part in the pumpkin daddy essay but YEAH

Eventually she developed a morbid fascination with him (as I think anyone would, honestly) and started hating him Slightly less. Keyword being slightly. They’d sometimes chat for a bit, but the true bonding moment was when they mutually decided hey. Wouldn’t it be so funny if you committed medical malpractice. SO SHE DID she performed a very illegal quote unquote “spine lengthening surgery” to make him two inches taller. By some miracle it was a success and once again because of her prestigious position as a respected surgeon nobody ever called her out for it. She also gave him a skeleton tattoo on his back when he was knocked out and he didn’t notice for years lmao. Anyhoo she’d occasionally hang around him outside of work to go to the illegal crab restaurant bc she couldn’t find it on her own, and on the way she’d do things to scare the shit out of him. Mostly as payback for the time pumpkin daddy startled her to the point she almost crashed backwards into the used syringe disposal and eeeyikes that would not have ended well! But she was VERY much poking the bear here, I cannot express how bad of an idea this was. She is like 4 foot 11 and pumpkin daddy is like 6 foot 3 and he could fucking snap her neck with no problem. He. Did not do that, obviously, but im just saying this was a BAD idea. She’s basically like a chihuahua, just a hatred filled little gremlin who tries to intimidate people that could beat her up in an instant

ANYWAY after a while of going to the illegal crab restaurant every weekend, she learned from pumpkin daddy and Gourdie about TBYTF and started studying it with them. She didn’t really make any big breakthroughs about it, she was basically just stuck being the mediator between the two because they had VERY different opinions on TBYTF. She planted a bunch of hybrid roses around (which she argued was just as cool as pumpkin daddy’s hybrids, come on, look, the roses are blue AND pink, that’s way better than making human life from scratch). Pumpkin daddy hated these roses but he didn’t dare touch them as to not ignite her fury. She’d occasionally bring Glad to the restaurant when she was in town, or Sirene (who was now on good terms with her) and they’d have a jolly old time(?) that’s probably not an accurate description. But they sure did had…a time, alright. When pumpkin daddy and Gourdie got divorced she…was not much of a help! She barely listened to their tearful ramblings. She probably ended up making them feel worse because it was Very Obvious she did not care. She would just silently nod and say “awesomesauce” as if that’s an appropriate response to “my wife is leaving me.” But she did help out a little bit by taking care of extra while they sorted things out. Even then her helpfulness was…questionable, she had no qualms with expressing her distaste with the circumstances of the divorce right in front of extra. Like in the middle of comforting him she’d say stuff like “it’ll be fine, they’re just being stupid. Apparently, communication isn’t in their vocabulary, but “you’re a shithead fairy betrayer” is.” But she made extra a lil necklace so it’s okay that she was swearing in front of children.

As a bit of a side tangent, during this time she became extremely petty on the matter of art. Art of any kind. Music, writing, drawing, anything of the sort. Turns out she sucks at it. I mean sure she can become a prestigious surgeon at a relatively young age and is excellent at math but for the life of her she can not do anything remotely artistic. She attempted to show off her alleged piano skills but turns out she only knew one song and even then pumpkin daddy played it better. Pumpkin daddy bought a guitar and she was so pissed off that he was immediately better than her at it that she threw it off a mountain (pumpkin daddy proceeded to retrieve the busted guitar and just tape it back together like nothing happened). She tried to write a children’s book cause ok, she’s good with kids, can’t be that hard right WRONG she failed miserably and got so mad she burnt down a library. Despite having extremely traumatic experiences with fires. She was so pissed off she forgot to be afraid of fire. So yeah she is uh. Not all too talented in anything other than strictly analytical or scientific fields.

BUT MOVING ON. As I said in an earlier post, she eventually quit her job and moved back to the desert with Glad to continue the Secret Government Project. She didn’t expect to ever come back even for a brief visit because she wouldn’t have the time (and, let’s face it, there’s no reason to travel all that way just to see PUMPKIN DADDY of all people) but remained in contact via the occasional letter. BEFORE SHE LEFT THOUGH pumpkin daddy pulled the ultimate and definitely not morally dubious prank of making a hybrid of her! He created human life solely to freak her out! And it worked! The hybrid’s name was hybelle and Bellona was NOT amused and was quite glad to not have to deal with it once she left! Hybelle was a pretty accurate hybrid of her though, there’s a bit more to her but that would fit more in with the Fina essay that I will. Eventually write.

She didn’t really do anything of major importance while back in the desert except for one thing that I completely forgot about until right as im writing this and it’s making me giggle like a fool, she saved Minerva from choking on a building. Like just straight up a building idk the logistics of it either. She was at Minerva’s college graduation and Minerva Somehow choked on the administrative building and the visual is making me laugh way too hard so I will just get on with it. BUT UH YEAH she didn’t do a whole lot during this point, was mostly just doing secretive government stuff with Glad and baking blueberry muffins. She couldn’t start a family because she neither had the time or energy, and she can’t have children (which pumpkin daddy blames himself for. “why the hell does he think it’s his fault” EXCELLENT QUESTION he once mistakenly released a mutated virus across the land that nearly killed off the cow population because it made them infertile. bellona helped make the cure for it and months later when she offhandedly mentioned she couldn’t have kids he just assumed it was because of her proximity to the whole rampant cow disease thing. It is Not the case, but he doesn’t know that and has lived in guilt ever since).

ANYWAY UH OH. WAR TIME. SHE DIES WE ALL KNOW THIS. so uh she eventually caught wind of the war going on on Fincg island and knowing that pumpkin daddy was probably doing a horrible job at dealing with it, she for the first time in decades left to go back. Less of a happy reunion and more of planning to beat him up until he had some sense knocked into him. Very literally the first thing she planned to do was tackle him when she saw him. She planned to meet him at the illegal crab restaurant but uh. He never showed up! Which was odd, considering he follows a very strict schedule that every weekend he goes to the illegal crab restaurant. But alas he never showed and she was just waiting there like a fool. After a few hours of waiting she thought she heard him but uhhh whoops it was not him. And she tackled a cat (SO much more to it than that but the cat (gloss) doesn’t yet have enough lore to justify an essay on him. Maybe someday, the lore’s always growing so maybe Gloss will have his time to shine). And broke its neck. She was incredibly distraught by this and was freaking out when UH OH!!! HERE COMES TBYTF!! YEAH SO idk if yall remember but the illegal crab restaurant is directly in TBYTF’s territory, and turns out, when there’s a corpse up there, the first thing it does is revive it. So gloss came back to life (now slightly possessed by tbytf due to it being what brought him back to life) and he was horrified at what he was seeing. A CRAB RESTAURANT. bellona pleaded with him not to tell anyone about it but that little pest ran down the mountain and called the police to report such a horrible, illegal establishment.

A BIT LATER THOUGH. UH. she was trying even more desperately to find pumpkin daddy and got caught in the central city, which at this point was a violent war zone. She almost escaped relatively unscathed but uh. We all know that is not how it goes! She got spotted by Terri, a Jorgan clan enthusiast (“hey wait don’t you have a pikmin oc named Terri” ERM YES. AND UH. THE PDBC TERRI CAME FIRST. GOOD LUCK ENJOYING MY MOTH-LOVING PIKMIN OC KNOWING THAT THIS IS WHO SHE’S BASED ON🥰🥰 A MURDERER). Terri was not happy seeing someone affiliated with the pumpkin clan in any way and uh. shot her. yeah. She didn’t immediately die, she ended up finding Extra throughout all the chaos and got him to pass on a message to pumpkin daddy. And then she. Yknow. died.

Ok so. There is technically more, but that part is…extremely undercooked. I tried to write it out and it was mostly just “I don’t know why this is yet or what happens after this BUT—“ and I think it’s best I don’t mention it at all lmao. It was only added to the story in like the last 2 weeks so it is not well developed!! At all!!Point is though Bellona’s fiiiiine she got to rest in peace. eventually. There’s some other stuff with her that I hesitate to mention because it wasn’t technically her? It was just an illusion of her. Pretty important to the plot but not so much to this long ramble so I think I’ll skip out on mentioning it. But yeah that’s uh, pretty much it for now.

ANYWAY RANDOM TRIVIA FROM THE TOP OF MY HEAD TIIIIIIME OK

• she has a trident. she has on numerous occasions almost hurt someone with it by swinging it around

• she likes astronomy!!! constellations and stuff!!!

• For being so rude to other people she will NOT tolerate being called any sort of names. Once got inconsolably angry when pumpkin daddy called her a bitch for insulting his cool new anti gravity sand

• She calls everyone sugar. Is it supposed to be demeaning, a compliment, who knows? She just does it

• This isn’t a piece of trivia this is just a quote that I just remembered: Think back to the lucky break that you got a few months ago. Remember it? No? Well, perhaps you forgot it because you are stupid. You are so unbelievably stupid. You squandered your perfect opportunity. You’ll never get it back. It’s all your fault. All your misery is the result of your own stupidity. Screw you. Screw you I hope you die and termites invade your casket and the doctors researching your brain drop it down the sink and little rats eat the tiny, minimal remains of it. take a WILD guess who it’s directed towards

• Despite living in the desert she’s extremely pale. Uses too much sunscreen I guess

• BUS. SHE HAS A BARELY FUNCTIONAL BUS UHHH

• she hates snowmen. she thinks they’re a waste of time and hideous

• Was once the victim of pumpkin daddy’s scammy home improvement business venture

• She loves gloves. Exact opposite of pumpkin daddy.

• once drank eggnog out of a puddle!!! Don’t ask!!!

• she was included in the short comic I sent to the original author!!! It’s technically not canon to PDBC so I didn’t mention it but yeah. Maybe I’ll post that comic someday but I’m a bit of a coward. But all she did in it was sit there being pissed off and not enjoying steaks

idk how to end this here’s this (RUNS AWAY AND EXPLODES)