#and they have little to no evidence to narrow down who the suspect might be

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

lot of morons on this website don't understand the concept of resource allocation.

[mewtwoandme]

I was hoping this would all blow over, but since it's continuing to happen, now with people attacking other artists of the commewnity. I'm putting out my two fucking cents! Cause this whole art/character theft and pointing fingers, who stole what from who bullshit it driving me up the fucking wall!!

Long story short, it started with me and one other blog whose name I won't mention publicly. Despite the horrible light they tried to paint me in, I don't want anyone going to this person and ganging up on them. This person had some serious bitterness towards more "popular" artists and claimed that I've made characters similar to theirs and once used a pose they apparently used before (which was a very common pose, considering it was a reference from the game version of mega Y). Since then, they had desperately tried to conjure up evidence, narrowing down to the most miniscule detail how I've been stealing from them when I hadn't even known their blog existed until I was forcefully thrown into that unnecessary drama with the unhinged call-out posts they've made. With this being said, I'd like to point out that they never came to me or addressed this concern with me in the first place. They had every opportunity to privately DM me if they had suspected I was "stealing," but no, simply because they already made up their mind that I was a thief, that was a good enough reason to lack common fucking sense and decency, making what should have been a private issue public, going on to villainize and dehumanize me. And apparently, it hasn't stopped with me either, cause recently I've been seeing other artists in the community having to deal with this where people are being white knights on high horses, pointing fingers on how one artist's mewtwo looks "the same" if not "totally identical" as another artist's mewtwo. I refuse to believe it's a coincidence. But what makes me disgusted is that since TC's post, apparently it's had the opposite effect on some people and they're hopping on this blame bandwagon like it's some damn media trend!!!

This is NOT okay! Nothing about this kind of behavior is funny! It's upsetting to all of us. We dont need you causing problems where there isn't any, thinking you're doing us a favor! The majority of us are adults for gods sake! We are old enough where we don't need other people coming to us being tattle tails saying this person did this and that. That's what little children do! If you suspect any form of theft, I think I speak for ALL creators in this commewnity that we'd prefer you DM us privately saying something like "Hey, I think this person is copying you, might wanna look into it." And if possible, provide a link to the art in question, for which we would kindly thank you for making us aware and we'll handle it ourselves from there. Just a brief, yet SIMPLE interaction...that's all we ask!!! Don't even come at me with "Well, it's scary attempting to talk to an artist that's well known." Or dare I say ~pOpUlAr~ If you claim that taking the first step to send me a quick DM makes you nervous, yet you have no problem making public call outs in posts or asks, belittling and degrading what could actually be innocent artists doing nothing wrong, literally leaving yourself open to all kinds of comments and opinions from all kinds of people....I'm sorry but your anxiety isn't as bad as you say it is then, if being rude and ignorant in a public post/ask is easier for you. If you come to us, shaming someone else who 9/10 probably isn't doing anything wrong, thinking you'll be in our good graces for doing so, sorry, you're not going to be told, "Good job!" with a pat on the back and given a lollipop! You're just being an asshole.

Quick reality check for everyone who's made it this far before I end this train wreck of a rant:

People can have similar ideas that coincide with one another! There's only so much you can do when a whole community is focused around drawing the same character! We mainly draw mewtwos and mews, you're bound to find a plethora of similar colors, patterns, and designs because of it! Creativity only goes so far when trying to stay true to a character and not stray too far. It's not a crime to take inspiration from other artists' characters, we actually encourage this! It makes us feel good that you liked something we've done and you want to incorporate it into your own designs! It makes us happy that we inspired you! The line is crossed when someone does a literal copy/paste of a character down to the exact detail, and they call it their own original creation. That my friends is what stealing actually is!

[lendeah]

Three times you take care of Astarion and one time he takes care of you

[ao3 link]

You were a caring person. That much was clear from the first moment you let him drink off you, almost to death. It was also clear when you tried to cool Karlach down with a rainy spell so you could hug her. Or give Gale every piece of magic item in your inventory so he could eat it. You enjoyed taking care of people.

However, taking care of Astarion wasn't an easy task. As much as you wanted to be there for him and help him, the vampire was a difficult person to handle. He was like a wild animal, constantly on edge and ready to lash out. It soon became clear that Astarion wasn't used to being on the receiving end of caring. Wasn't used for someone to care at all.

So you went little by little, as to not startle him. You started by simply spending time with him. Patiently listening to his endless complaints and blatant flirting, offering a sympathetic ear and a playful response, respectively. It was clear that Astarion enjoyed your company, even if he didn't always show it. He would often make snarky comments or sarcastic remarks, but you could tell that deep down, he appreciated having someone around.

Of course, you let him drain you dry every night, which honestly left you sick and tired through the day, but it was worth the glint in his eyes and the way his cheeks seemed to light up as if he was alive again.

You couldn't help but notice; he always had a book in his hands. Whether you were at camp or out on an expedition, he was constantly reading. So you began collecting every book you stumbled upon and leaving them on his bedroll for him to find when he returned to his tent. No matter the genre- whether it was a history book, poetry or even erotica- you always gifted them to him.

The first times, he would search around the camp in confusion, wondering who had left them there for him. But after the fifth or sixth book, the vampire's expression would light up with a secretive smile as he eagerly flipped through the pages. It warmed your heart to see him so engrossed in a story, his curiosity evident in his shining eyes. However, you kept your identity hidden: if he knew it was you leaving the books, he might become wary again and you didn't want to risk it after coming this far. This went on for a few weeks until one day, as you were leaving another book, a voice called out from behind you.

"Well, hello there. I suppose the game is up."

You froze, the book still in your hands, as you turned around to see Astarion standing with a sly smile on his face.

"I... erm, I just found these books lying around and thought they might be yours," you said lamely.

He smirked, eyes narrowing as if he saw right through your excuses. "Funny, I don't recall owning any of these books you are holding."

You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "Oh...I must have made a mistake then."

But Astarion just shook his head, walking closer to you until he was within arm's reach. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You haven't exactly been subtle, sweetheart."

You felt your face heat up even more, the blush reaching your ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your voice came out a little squeaky.

Astarion chuckled. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I might suspect that you were trying to seduce me. If you wanted to come into my tent, all you had to do was ask, my dear."

"I-It... It's not like that!" you sputtered out, trying to avoid eye contact with him. "I just thought... you like reading."

"Oh, I do," Astarion said in a low voice. "Among other things."

You swallowed hard as your mind raced. Had he just... Was he implying what you thought he was implying?

"I-I should really get going," you said quickly, turning away from him and almost tripping over your own feet.

But before you could run off, Astarion's hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. "Wait," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. His expression was a bit serious, a stark contrast to the playful persona he usually wore. "Thanks for the effort. It's almost sweet, doing all this for me."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer before Astarion spoke up again.

"Perhaps we could have a little fun and read them together sometime?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

You smiled shyly at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach at his offer.

"I... I would love that," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Astarion's smile widened and he released your wrist. "Wonderful. I look forward to it, my dear. And I do hope the next book is a good one."

You walked away from his tent, trying to convince yourself that the thumping of your heart was simply due to your love for taking care of others.

With each passing day, your meetings with Astarion in his tent became a familiar routine. You allowed him to feed on you, then spent time reading together from the books you had collected for him. It was also a chance for you to study him closely, searching for any other way to care for him. One night, as he read aloud to you, the soothing sound of his voice lulled you into a peaceful slumber, curled up on his bedroll next to him. The next morning, as sunlight flooded the tent, you woke up to find Astarion already awake, holding a book in his hands.

"Good morning," you said, rubbing the sleep off your eyes. "Sorry I fell asleep here."

Astarion raised an eyebrow at you. "No need to apologize. I must say, you look quite lovely when you're sleeping. Although you do not sound that lovely, but well, we can't all be perfect."

You rolled your eyes, then sat up stretching your limbs. As you glanced around the room, your eyes landed on the book in his hand - the one you two had been reading last night. It was almost finished now.

"Wait, you haven't slept?"

He let out a soft laugh.

"My dear, I am an elf. We do not sleep; we trance. And to answer your inquiry, no, I did not partake in that either. It's not something I typically find enjoyable."

You looked at Astarion with confusion and concern. "But... why? Don't you need to rest?"

He gave a casual shrug. "If I enter into a trance, the only memories accessible to me are my own life experiences. And let me tell you, those are not pleasant memories."

"But isn't there a way for you to... just rest? Without the memories, I mean?" You asked.

Astarion smirked, his eyes still fixed on the book in his hands. "Why bother learning how to sleep when I can trance instead?" he quipped "Trancing has always been my preferred method anyway."

You couldn't imagine what it was like, being forced to relive your trauma over and over again every night.

"I’m so sorry, Astarion," you whispered, your voice barely above a hush.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh well," he said, "It's all in the past now, isn't it? Just another part of who I am."

You nodded slowly but you couldn’t shrug off his words as easily as he could. You recalled the way he looked when he was trancing - peaceful and unguarded. It was hard to imagine that behind those serene features he was being haunted by his memories.

The day was a blur, as you struggled to maintain a cheerful facade and engage in small talk. However, Astarion's words continued to haunt you. As the evening progressed and you both followed your usual nightly routine, you made a decision to do something.

"Astarion." He turned to you, a curious look on his face. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage."I think we could try something different tonight. Do you trust me?"

Astarion looked at you as though surprised by the question, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Trust is a strong word, darling," he replied, a smirk forming on his lips. "But yes, I suppose I do trust you."

"Good," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

You cleared your throat as you settled into the bedroll, signaling for him to join you. Astarion raised an eyebrow but followed your lead, settling into the bedroll beside you.

"Rest your head on my lap," you instructed softly

Astarion's eyebrows shot up once more, but then he shrugged and followed your instructions. He cautiously rested his head on your lap, surprising you with his compliance. Sensing the tension in his body, you refrained from touching him yet, and instead reached for your bag. He watched you curiously as you took out a small jar.

"What's that?" he asked, his eyes glinting with intrigue.

"It's a special blend of herbs and oils that I use to help me relax and sleep better," you explained, opening the tub and taking out a small dab of the mixture. "Can I touch you?"

He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, before he answered, "Yes you may."

You rubbed the mixture between your fingers before gently massaging it onto his temples and forehead. You could feel him tense under your touch, probably not used to this kind of contact.

"Does it help?" he asked quietly, his eyes closed.

"It helps me," you replied honestly. "I'm not sure if it'll have the same effect on you, but I figured it's worth a try."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you replied, smiling back down at him. "Now just close your eyes and try to relax. Let your thoughts drift you away."

Astarion blinked, his long lashes fluttering against his pale skin. He looked at you with a mix of surprise and skepticism, clearly hesitant to follow your lead. But he didn't protest, didn't push your hands away. Instead, he nodded slightly, closing his eyes once more.

You watched him closely, noticing how the tension in his jaw gradually subsided and the creases on his forehead smoothed out little by little. You continued gently massaging his temples, the rhythmic movements soothing both of you.

The change in his demeanor prompted a fluttering sensation in your stomach that you hastily shrugged away, reminding yourself not to read too much into it.

Eventually, you started running your fingers through his hair and Astarion let out a contented hum, adjusting himself slightly in response. You could have sworn he was purring, and it seemed like he had fallen into a deep slumber.

By the end of the night, you were asleep with your hands still gently stroking his head.

From that moment, a subtle tension seemed to linger between the two of you. It was unspoken, but present every time you were alone together. Astarion would ask for your help to fall asleep each night, and without fail, he would drift off quickly and sleep soundly. You loved watching him relax under your touch, feeling his body go limp and his soft sleepy sounds. But more than that, you enjoyed drifting off with your fingers tangled in his soft curls, your heart feeling light and at ease in his presence.

However, the perils of your journey became worse as your party reached the Underdark. Your main concern became avoiding attacks from shadow monsters, leaving little room for any attention to whatever connection was building between you two.

One night, as you approached Astarion's tent, you noticed him sitting cross-legged in front of his small mirror. His brow was furrowed and his expression was one of deep contemplation. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should disturb him or not.

"Looking at something?" he suddenly asked.

You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to break the silence.

"How did you see me?"

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you."

And then it clicked. He couldn't see his own reflection. Why hadn't it occurred to you before?

"Do you miss it? Your own face, I mean."

Of course he did, what a stupid question.

"Preening in the Looking Glass? Petty vanity?" Astarion scoffed, "Of course I miss it."

Astarion's tone was bitter, his gaze fixed on his reflection-less face in the mirror. You sat down next to him, mirroring his position.

"I've never even seen this face not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red"

So he hadn't seen his face in over 200 years. You couldn't imagine what that must feel like. To not have seen your own face in over two centuries. To be unable to remember how it even looked like.

After your conversation, ideas began to circulate in your mind. You considered asking Gale to use his magic to transform your appearance to match his, but that would only be temporary. You wanted something more permanent that would allow him to admire his own face whenever he pleased. The thought of enchanting his mirror so that it would reflect his image crossed your mind. Surely there had to be a spell for that. However, time was limited and you were unsure how much you could dedicate to the task anyway. Then, an answer presented itself at the Last Light Inn when you encountered an artist on your way.

"How long would it take for you to paint a portrait?"

"Like, a month?"

"I will pay you triple if you finish it in a week."

Although the artist was hesitant, the promise of triple payment was too tempting for him to turn down. And so, a week later, you returned to Astarion's tent with a canvas in hand. He arched an eyebrow in question.

"What is this?" Astarion asked, gesturing towards your offering. "Another gift? At this rate, my tent will be overflowing with your generosity."

You grinned and gently set the canvas on the floor in front of him. A delicate, sheer fabric covered its surface.

"This is a special one, though."

His eyes glossed over with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned forward to unwrap it. An expectant silence filled the tent, the only sound being the rustle of fabric as he carefully lifted the veil. The sight that greeted his gaze left him momentarily speechless - an exquisitely painted portrait of a man, elegantly handsome with sharp, angular features and piercing red eyes.

"What is this?" Astarion asked with a chuckle, clearly admiring the artwork."You've given me a portrait of a handsome stranger? How thoughtful, dear. But the quality could be better, honestly."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you whispered, "That's you," holding your breath for his reaction.

There was a tense moment of silence as Astarion stared at the portrait. You couldn't quite read his expression, and your heart started to race with anxiety. Had you made a mistake? Was he displeased with the gift? Maybe you were intruding too much in his personal life...

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally spoke. "This is... me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes.

"Yes. I wanted you to have something that would allow you to see yourself again, so I asked an artist at the Last Light Inn to paint you."

His fingers traced over the painting, brushing lightly over the likeness of his own face, his own eyes - red now - but still his. He took a step back as if he'd been hit, staggering slightly. There was a moment where he just stood there, staring at the man in the portrait - at himself.

"Is this... is this how I look now?" He asks, voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes."

"I..." he started, then stopped. Shaking his head, he turned towards you with a conflicted look in his red eyes. "I... don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," you told him reassuringly, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

He looked at you for a long moment before nodding and squeezing your hand back. A tear trickled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away, but not before you saw it glistening in the dim light.

"Thank you," he said finally. It's quiet, almost lost in the silence of the tent, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. You smiled at him, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you.

"You're welcome," you whispered softly.

Astarion's crimson eyes shimmered with tears as he gazed at the painting, struggling to maintain his composure. You gave him a reassuring smile before turning around to give him some space to process his thoughts and feelings. But just as you were about to leave, he reached out and took hold of your hand, stopping you.

"Don't go" he said solemnly. "Please don't go... I'd like to... I want..." slowly, he stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.

You were taken aback for a moment but then quickly melted into his embrace. After a moment of silence, the vampire spoke softly, his voice raspy.

"I don't know... how to repay you, I..." he murmured into your hair.

"You don't have to," you whispered back, feeling overwhelmed by his sudden display of emotion.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally pulled away slightly so that he could look into your eyes. His eyes were moist with tears, but they also held a glimmer of hope, happiness. You couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling a wave of warmth spread throughout your body from the simple touch. And in that moment, you realized just how deeply you had fallen for this man. It wasn't just a matter of caring anymore; you were deeply and irrevocably in love with him.

And you would tell him, you decided. You would let him know that he didn't owe you anything because you had acted out of love. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins. His eyes were still on yours, searching, questioning.

"Astarion...," you started, your voice soft and filled with emotion, "I need to tell you... I..."

However, just as you were about to spill your heart, the sound of someone calling for you pierced through the quiet atmosphere of the tent. With a sigh, you reluctantly untangled yourself from Astarion's arms.

"I'm afraid that's my cue."

He gave a silent nod, his eyes reflecting a mix of conflicting emotions.

"Sure, sure. Wouldn't want to interrupt your exciting duties as our esteemed leader."

You rolled your eyes with a small smile and got out of the tent. However, there was a feeling of disappointed and regret for not being able to express your true feelings to him. You made a mental note to tell him later when you had the chance.

But that night, Astarion didn't come to his bedroll. Nor the next one. Or the one following. You sensed he was putting some distance between you as if something had changed. He continued with his blatant flirting and sly remarks, of course. They just seemed... mechanical. Every time you tried to talk about your feelings, he would deflect or change the subject. Days turned into weeks and still nothing changed between you two. Astarion remained distant and aloof while you struggled with your own emotions, feeling confused and rejected.

One morning, you woke up with a heavy weight on your chest. You initially dismissed it as the usual feeling of sadness that had been lingering for a week now. But after a whole day of choking on your own breath and dizziness, mixed with a deep pounding in your head, you knew this wasn’t the case. Despite your condition, you pushed through the day, determined not to be seen as weak or unreliable by your group.

However, as time passed, it became increasingly difficult to hide your worsening state from everyone else. Your coughing spells were becoming more frequent, and your body was weakening rapidly. You could sense Astarion's worried stare on you from time to time, but he never approached you to inquire about your condition.

That all changed one morning when you couldn't even muster the strength to get out of bed. Your entire body was in pain and your fever was soaring. You heard footsteps approaching your bedrolls and prepared yourself for one of your companions coming to check on you (or more likely, tell you off). However, it was Astarion's smirking face that came into view.

"Well, well, well," he said with a teasing tone, "Seems like our fearless leader is not feeling so fearless anymore. Feeling lazy today, are we?"

You managed to roll your eyes, laying your arm back over them to shield from the morning sunlight peering in through a hole in the tent. "If by lazy you mean sick, then yes." Your voice was weak and raspier than usual. You coughed into your arm, the action causing your body to shake and shudder with discomfort.

"Hmm..." Astarion's voice was no longer teasing. "That doesn't sound good, darling."

His gaze was intense when he leaned down to press his hand against your forehead. You suppressed a shiver at the unexpected coolness it brought and tried to turn away from him. He didn't let you, pushing your hair away from your face with his other hand.

"You're burning up," he said, moving away from you but not before you saw the worry flash briefly in his eyes. He stood up abruptly and started pacing around your bedroll, "What can I do?" He asked more to himself than you.

"Nothing… I just need… rest..." You managed to respond before another coughing fit washed over you.

Astarion shook his head "I'm going to get Shadowheart and Halsin. They will know what to do."

Astarion hurried out of the tent, and surely a few minutes later he came back bringing your two companions. As Halsin handed you the potion and Shadowheart casted her healing spells, Astarion's hand brushed against yours briefly before pulling away.

"Thank you," you whispered weakly before passing out.

A few hours later, after resting and drinking more disgusting beverages than you could count, your fever had finally subsided a bit and your coughing fits were less frequent. Astarion stayed by your side through the whole ordeal, a comforting silhouette against the flickering candlelight. You closed your eyes and felt his cold hand soothingly stroke your forehead. The cool, comforting touch of his skin against yours was a relief from the fever heat radiating off your body.

"Feel any better?" Astarion asked, raising an eyebrow.

You attempted a smile, "Well, I'm not dead yet."

His lips twitched in response, a semblance of his usual smirk flickering across his handsome face. "Good. That would be inconvenient for my dietary needs."

Despite feeling weak and exhausted, you couldn't help but chuckle. It was a welcome distraction from the constant throbbing pain in your head and rattling chest.

He shifted awkwardly on his seat next to you, looking almost hesitant, before he started speaking again. "I... I was scared of losing you," he admitted, "And I have to confess something."

His usually confident and cocky demeanor was replaced with an almost childlike uncertainty.

"What is it?" You asked, your voice still weak but full of concern.

He sighed heavily before meeting your gaze.

"I had a nice simple plan; to manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. And honestly, I thought it would be so easy, with you being so open, so eager to care for everyone..." He frowns, "But that is the thing. You are so kind, so thoughtful. No one's ever cared for me the way you have. And... I don't know how to handle it."

You reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it gently. "I understand," you said softly. "It's not easy to let someone take care of you, but you don't have to push me away. You deserve love and happiness just like everyone else."

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I want to try," he said, determination flickering in his gaze. "I want to let you take care of me. And I want to take care of you, if you let me."

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words.

"Of course. But first, I feel like I need to tell you something too." You took a deep breath before continuing, "I...I think I'm falling in love with you."

He looked at you puzzled, before letting out a loud laugh.

"Oh, my love. I already knew."

You were taken aback by his words. "What? You did?"

He rolled his eyes "Dear, you were hardly subtle about it. A portrait? Essential oils? Come on..."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, feeling relieved and embarrassed all at once.

"I guess I'm not as sneaky as I thought," you said, shaking your head.

"But I'm not better." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I've been falling for you since the moment you started leaving books on my bedroll."

With that, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It was like a spark igniting, sending waves of electricity through your body. In that brief moment, all the emotions and tensions that had been building between you seemed to dissipate into thin air. The softness of his lips against yours was like a warm embrace, melting away any doubts or fears you may have had.

When you both pulled away, you rested your forehead against his and whispered, "You are going to get ill now."

He chuckled, "How fortunate I am already dead then."

Yet, in that moment, the gleam of his eyes made him seem more alive than you had ever seen him.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hii I just started criminal minds this month and ofc I HAD to run to tumblr when I saw Aaron Hotchner and I came across your blog and I really really love your writing !!

So I wanted to ask a one shot with him about an anemic reader (fem if possible) who forgot to take her med or to eat on a case and she gets dizzy but brush it off and continue working but hotch notice 🙏🏽

(Ignore if you’re not comfortable writing it ofc)

Watchful Eyes

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Light use of Y/N, dizziness, forgetting to take meds.

Requests can be send here

The sun was high, casting sharp shadows on the ground as the team spread out through the small town, gathering evidence and interviewing witnesses. It was the third day of their investigation, and everyone was feeling the strain, especially you. You'd been running on fumes, forgetting to eat properly, and skipping your medication a few times in the rush of trying to catch the unsub in time before his next victim was brutally murdered.

Pushing aside the foggy feeling in your head, you focused on the task at hand, sifting through piles of case files at the local police station, where the team had set up their field office. Your vision blurred for a moment as you tried to focus on the words in front of you. Shaking your head slightly, you tried to clear it away.

"You okay?" JJ asked, glancing over at you from a desk nearby.

"Yeah, just a bit tired," you replied with a forced smile. "I'll be fine."

But as you stood up to grab another file, the room seemed to rock. You reached out, gripping the edge of the desk in an attempt to steady yourself, but quickly brushed it off trying to power through it. There was no time to be weak. The team needed every set of hands, and you couldn't afford to slow down, not now.

Hotch appeared in the doorway from the chief of police's office, his presence commanding as always. "(Y/N), can you come with me to the crime scene? I could use an extra pair of eyes?"

You hesitated for a moment, the dizziness still lingering at the edges of your consciousness, but nodded not wanting him to notice. "Of course, Hotch. Just let me grab my things."

He watched you closely, noticing the slight hesitation and the way you braced yourself against the table. He was the chief after all. Hotch didn’t say anything, simply waiting for you to collect your belongings before leading the way out. As you stepped into the sunlight, the cool air hit you, and you did your best to shake off the unease, determined to keep up with your boss the best you could.

Hotch stood outside the suspected unsub's house, a deep furrow in his brow as he spoke into his earpiece. "Reid, I need you and Morgan to double-check the timelines with the victims' families. Prentiss, head back to the station and go over the CCTV footage again with the local officers. We might have missed something." He directed the team, trying to make sense of the case so far.

"Got it, Hotch," came the chorus of replies.

Hotch glanced down at his watch. Time was slipping away, and you needed a breakthrough soon. As he disconnected the call, he spotted you across the street, your figure slightly hunched over as you scribbled notes from a witness. Something about your posture made him frown. You looked pale, almost ghostly under the harsh sunlight, and there was a slight tremor in your hands as you took the notes.

His eyes narrowed. He knew the signs, he had seen them before. The stress, the exhaustion, the faint sheen of sweat on your brow despite the cool breeze. His instincts told him something was wrong.

Making his way over, he approached just as you swayed on your feet, your hand reaching out to the wall for support.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice low but firm, drawing your attention. "Are you alright?"

You blinked up at him, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Hotch. Just a little light-headed. It's nothing."

Hotch wasn't convinced. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of serious distress. "When was the last time you ate?" He asked, aware of your condition from your personnel file.

"I… I don't know, this morning, maybe?" You admitted, your voice wavering. You knew it was of no use lying to him. He was far too good at his job for that to work.

"And your medication?"

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling small under his intense gaze. "I might have forgotten…"

Hotch let out a quiet sigh, concern etched in his features. "You know you can't skip those. You're not doing anyone any favors by pushing yourself like this."

Before you could protest, Hotch’s hand reached out, gently but firmly taking the files from your hands. The gesture was commanding yet tender, leaving no room for resistance. He looked down at you with a mixture of concern and resolve, his dark eyes searching yours for any sign of defiance. When he spoke, his voice was calm but laced with an authority that you knew better than to challenge.

"That's it," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You're grounded to the field office until you’re feeling better. No more pushing through or pretending you're fine."

He held your gaze, making sure his words sank in as if daring you to argue and make your "punishment" even worse, potentially pulling completely off the case. You felt a wave of frustration rise in your chest, you didn’t want to be sidelined, not when the team needed you. But beneath the frustration, there was also a sense of relief. Hotch wasn’t just issuing orders; he was looking out for you, protecting you from yourself when you couldn’t see past the immediate demands of the job.

"Hotch, I—"

"No arguments," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate. "I'm not risking your health. Not on my watch." He continued, softer now, almost gentle. "I can’t have you out there in this condition. Not when it’s clear you’re struggling. The case can wait; your health can’t."

As you stood there, the weight of his words settled over you, and you realized there was no point in fighting it. Hotch wasn’t just your superior; he was someone who cared enough to make sure you took care of yourself, even when you wouldn't. You opened your mouth to argue, but the world tilted for the second time today, and you found yourself grateful for his firm grip on your arm, steadying you.

"Come on," he said softly, leading you back to the car to drive you back to the field office. "You're sitting down when we get back, drinking some water, and taking your meds. We'll figure out the case, but we need you healthy to do that."

Once you were back at the field office, the busy atmosphere felt distant as Hotch guided you to a chair in a quieter spot. He kept a steady hand on your back, making sure you were okay as you sat down, feeling more tired than you'd wanted to admit.

Hotch quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the nearby cooler. Without saying a word, he opened it and handed it to you, his eyes never leaving you. The way he watched you, so carefully, as if worried you might collapse, it made you feel both comforted and a bit embarrassed. You knew he was just being responsible, but his concern was clear.

As you took a sip of water, it helped ease the dryness in your throat, but it didn’t stop the awkwardness you felt under his watchful gaze. You looked down at the bottle, trying to avoid his eyes.

"I'm fine, really," you mumbled, your voice quiet as you tried to reassure him, though you weren't entirely sure yourself.

Hotch knelt beside you, so you were at the same level, his expression soft and understanding. "I know you are," he said gently, but with a firmness that showed he wasn’t going to let this go. "But you need to take care of yourself, (Y/N). We all need you at your best."

His words were simple, but they carried a lot of meaning. It wasn’t just about the work, they needed you to be okay. And he wasn’t going to let you ignore your health again. His concern made you realize how much he and the team cared, not just about the job, but about you as a person. You nodded, a small smile finally breaking through, feeling a bit better knowing you weren't facing this alone.

You nodded, the dizziness starting to fade now that you were sitting. "Thanks, Hotch."

He gave you a small, rare smile. "Just doing my job."

Consider linking or reblogging if you enjoy my work

[rottenpumpkin13]

You inspire so many new HCs that my brain shall one day break~

 

New HC(s):

Everyone has stickers they give Sephiroth at random times for random things because he deserves them.

Zack always puts one on his face. Sephiroth has gone through an entire meeting with a sparkly rainbow star on his forehead. (Zack is also responsible for the "no trying to sneak into Sephiroth's apartment to play 'Late Tooth Fairy But With Stickers' when he's sleeping" rule. He's responsible for several new rules in regards to sticker giving, tbh, but he maintains that that's part of the fun. He tactfully doesn't say how the deep sighs Angeal and Lazard give him for it are also part of the fun of it.)

Genesis gives Sephiroth's a laminated, wallet sized card full of empty square/box-like spaces, similar to that of a punch card, and when he's had all slots filled Sephiroth soon after finds candy mysteriously left on his desk. The candy type frequently changes, but he never receives one that he's disliked. If Sephiroth finds that he dislikes the newly tried candy that's been left on his desk, very mysteriously, then the next day he receives a replacement with something that he does like. (The first was a Banoran specialty sweet which narrowed down the list of suspects greatly. The fact that it was also 'sweet red apple' flavored narrowed it down even more so.)

Angeal mixes it up what he gives, but it's always something reminiscent of mostly normal childhood memories that Sephiroth should have had, like the rest of them*. Sephiroth receives a lot of little things that needed water to "come to life", including the occasional tiny plant. He finds them intriguing, as is evidence by his very feline-esque pupils growing as he watches the process entirely. It "sparks joy", as one would put it. (*Angeal maintains that Zack is also an outlier to most of this and they cannot account for the long favored Gongagan festivals' backwater game of 'Touch-Me Wrangling'.)

Cloud gets the gist of the whole sticker reward happenings, but it's not a Nibelheim thing so he's never actually experienced it either. Instead, Cloud gives Sephiroth what his childhood experiences were made of; practical things or cool things made with/gained by doing something practical/necessary. (He shyly explains this to Sephiroth when he offers him a handmade necklace with a Nibel Wolf fang from his own very first kill, mythril thread woven messily yet artfully around the leather cord. What Cloud doesn't explain is how deep the meanings of the first kill items are.)

+Lazard heard of what the boys are doing, the why of what the boys are doing and, well, he's nothing if not one who cares for his gremlins children Soldiers — even if that care is shown in the form of shouting and chasing the heathens them with a broom sometimes. Reward Stickers, thankfully, do not factor into any of those times. He sneaks little golden stars onto Post-Its attached to whatever papers he hands over to Sephiroth. When it seems like Sephiroth is having a bad day, Lazard makes a constellation around the star sticker. (He might not admit it, but seeing the little quirk of his lips when Sephiroth notices, a genuine smile or near enough if it, is held as a very special sight to him.)

Oh this fills my heart with joy 🥺💚 makes me think this conversation would go down though:

Hojo: Sephiroth, why in the blazes do you have a golden star sticker on your shoulder guard? How utterly unbecoming of a specimen of your caliber.

Sephiroth: It's my reward for not stabbing you with that spork you gave me when I was 7 to eat whatever that gray lab sludge was you called sustenance.

Hojo:

[redflagshipwriter]

Cupid is Wanted: Chapter five

Masterpost

Damian felt himself go still, a hunting dog reacting to something not yet seen. Brown noticed his tension and her eyes hardened.

Faintly, the car garage door began to hoist itself open.

Impossible. Who could have returned to the Manor? Who suspected them?

“Quickly!”

The two scrambled to erase the evidence of their time in the VHS room and to return to their sickened posting. Damian straightened the rug, turned off the light, and hastily snatched up a pillow that had been dragged over from their sickroom. “Come on, come on,” Brown muttered, hands out to receive the tape from the machine. She turned off the television as soon as it was in her hands.

The front door unlocked.

They flung themselves down the hallway in professional, panicked silence.

Down six doors, down one floor, and then into the first doorway. Damian tucked and rolled onto the sofa. Brown was in the air, a blonde rocket over the back of the sofa and onto his side. “Move your behind-“ he hissed, until she elbowed him in the gut and cut off his ability to speak with an oof.

“This was my sofa,” Brown argued back. “Before we left. You move!” She squirmed into a more tactical position.

“Unhand me!”

They were full-on wrestling by the time the hallway creaked with the weight of a step. Damian could not afford the leisure to look up. They were shamefully well matched in size and musculature, as Brown was a hulking beast of a gym rat girl at 5’6” and Damian was still waiting for his expected growth spurt.

“…Resting well?” Damian craned his gaze up from where he was scrunched halfway off the sofa to see the wretched amusement on Dick’s face.

“I will rest easier when this great lump has been thrown down the mountainside,” Damian snarled against Brown’s fingers. He made a valiant attempt to bite them that managed to scrape her flesh.

“Whoa, okay, no teeth between friends.” Dick pried them apart and left them panting resentfully, faces flushed red.

“He’s not my friend,” Brown huffed. Damian agreed silently. “He’s an adorable little baby-“ she cut herself off with a shriek as she barely escaped Damian’s teeth.

The surprise attack was no use. Dick, who was now demoted to Richard for dastardly acts, caught him around the waist and hoisted him up over his great big silly shoulders. Damian hung there resentfully and glowered. He would show them all one day. He would be larger than them all. It was his destiny, as the son of the Bat, who was quite tall even if not as tall as Damian might have hoped.

Surely it would be any day now that Damian would burst in a stream of glory past his current 5 feet and 4 inches. He was nearly 14 years of age. That was old enough for a growth spurt, one that would compel his wretched family to respect him.

“You seem more energetic than expected. I was worried.” Richard patted his back. “Senior year is important, Steph, I hope you don’t have too much homework.”

Brown let out a rather pathetic fake cough. “I’m fine,” she said bravely. “I don’t have too much, no. We just finished midterms.”

Richard made a cheerful sound that implied he was onto them. “Good thing you got sick now and not last week, then!”

“Fine,” Damian spat. He ignored the way that Brown’s eyes went wide. “What have you come for, Richard?”

He made a tch sound with his tongue upon hearing of his demotion from his preferred appellation, Dick. “I’m here to heal the sick with my tender ministry,” he lied.

Damian waited. He crossed his arms. The position was awkward, given that he was still hanging upside down over Richard’s back.

“You two are obviously in cahoots and I want to be in cahoots.” Richard flipped Damian over back onto his feet with a flourish but did not let go of his grip on Damian’s shoulders. He leaned in slightly with a grin to say, “Let me in, you shits.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. Outrageous. He would not bend to these demands.

“Compelling point,” Brown said. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing to cahoot about.” Damian turned his head back far enough to see her saunter towards Richard, holding the sofa cushion to her stomach with one hand. “Except, maybe.” She trailed off tentatively, hand over her mouth.

“Yes?” Richard asked.

Brown removed her hand and started coughing into Richard’s face, eyes and mouth contorted in a repulsive fashion. “Nasty!” Richard bellowed, taking evasive actions. Damian grabbed Richard’s hands to hold him in place so that he could aid Brown in her noble mission by coughing on Richard’s face. Their elder squirmed and weaved, but he saw spittle land on Richard’s eyebrow before his grip was wrenched away and Richard escaped range. “I’m going to rehome you to the bin!” Richard hollered. He executed an artful roll over a divan and came back up with the single heavy seat cushion. “Get back!” He brandished it at them.

Brown dove for his ankles while his vision was obstructed. Damian took advantage of the same instant to take the high ground, leaping to the back of the chair and then jumping onto Richard’s shoulders with a vicious war cry. The chair toppled to the ground after him. He noted it, but was occupied pulling handfuls of hair and deliberately spitting on Richard’s ear. The movement exposed the upper curve of their enemy's ear. “He is wearing jewelry!” Damian reported victoriously. How mortifying! Richard was attempting to have a personal life!

“You were ready for a date!” Brown accused, trying to cling to Richard’s ankle. He slammed the cushion down and leveraged it on top of her. She went under with a shriek, and Damian was nearly shaken from his perch when Richard lurched downwards to use his weight to trap Brown. She continued, muffled but undefeated. “You weren’t here for us! You don’t care, you had something else to bring you into town.”

“They canceled on you because you are elderly and infirm!” Damian traunted. Richard lost a few hairs when he wrenched Damian off and literally threw him across the room. He landed on his feet effortlessly and extended a hand to point in accusation. “You are taking out your unused energy on us! What will the authorities think of your abominable behavior?”

“Master Dick!”

Everyone stopped breathing. Brown quickly withdrew the hands that she had been weaseling out from underneath the cushion in an attempt to escape. If only he was also unseen. The authorities were already at hand, and he was exposed in the open. Damian felt a cold hand of fear around his heart. He guiltily lowered the hand rudely pointing at Richard.

Damian turned his wide eyed gaze on Alfred. The head of their household looked incensed. “You are not permitted to throw sick children, thank you. You will clean this immediately.” He swept a hand across the disheveled room.

…Yes, sick children. Indeed, he was quite ill. Damian ran through hasty mental calculations of how ill he ought to look. Should he slump? Would it be too much? He would never normally expose weakness, so perhaps it would only seem suspicious.

Richard looked incredibly trapped. “What if I told you that they aren’t really sick?” he tried.

Alfred barely spared Damian a glance, but he felt flayed through. “Then I would be disappointed in them for their deception, but it does not increase my tolerance for testing their aerodynamic qualities, nor their tolerance for being trapped in cushions.”

Richard meekly stepped off of the large cushion. It popped up and off of Brown, who rather looked as though she would prefer to remain out of sight. Her skin was flushed and her hair sweaty. She did still look terrible.

‘...We can still succeed.’

The household existed in a tense silence after Alfred left the room. Damian avoided eye contact with Richard. Despite orders, all three of them straightened the room. Damian tucked himself back onto the sofa and exchanged wary glances with Brown. Ought they apologize? Had they wronged Dick?

Their elder let out a sigh. He sprawled out on a chair and looked up at the ceiling. “Don’t do anything rash,” he said. His earlier lighthearted tone was replaced with a quiet command that made Damian’s back straighten. “You’re working a case. I’ll stay out of it, but I don’t like that you’ve lied to Alfred and Bruce.”

Shame burnt at Damian’s cheeks. He felt hot with it. He looked at his legs, unable to speak around the sharp rock in his throat. He nodded.

It was with a bitter taste in his mouth and a humbled neck that Damian contacted the electronic witch in her tower. “Good evening,” he said.

“Damian,” said Barbara, amused. “Good to hear from you. Stephanie said you might call.”

“…yes.” He swallowed down the bad taste in his mouth. “I hope to request a favor from you.”

The sound of knuckles cracking came across the headset. “I’m listening.”

Damian shuddered. Disgusting.

[gurugirl]

The Con Artist | Part 5*

Summary: You and Harry admit how much you like one another but a traumatic event confuses everything and leaves you feeling unsafe and terrified. Harry thinks he's doing the right thing by keeping his distance.

A/n: This is detective!harry x crimina!reader / y/n | This is part of a short series. This part might have some triggering content. Read warnings before continuing.

The Con Artist Masterlist

12.4k words

Warning: Smut, angst, a kidnapping attempt, use of guns & drugs, some violence, a quick hospital scene

◈ ◈ ◈

You told Harry everything. All about your methods of getting a man to take you to his home or hotel room. That you had a dealer who supplied you with the pills (and weed for yourself), who also bought the jewelry off of you. You told him how much money you’d been able to save and told him that most of it was still stashed in your apartment, hidden away, and that you never kept any of the items you stole for fear of being searched one day and found with evidence. The cash could be explained. A Rolex with a serial number that matched a stolen one was much more difficult to talk your way out of.

You were nervous telling him, though. He was still a cop and you were still a suspect in a case. But you trusted him. You knew it was safe to tell him and if you wanted to really give it a go with him for whatever it was you two were doing, then you needed to be honest with him like he’d been with you.

And Harry learned that you weren’t some super devious criminal mind who knew the law and how to work the system. You just learned things as you went and you’d been lucky until you stole from the wrong men. Men that had some sort of influence and who had security cameras and lots of money.

But he was impressed with how much money you’d made over the years. You were a little bit scrappy and very brave. And you had more money than he did. A lot more in fact.

“Think I got into the wrong line of business. Bet I could get rich women to take me back to their home and make a fortune,” Harry laughed.

“You totally could. But women are harder than men. Women are smart and think about outcomes and the big picture. Men tend to narrow their ideas a little and think of the immediate idea but not much past that. Especially when they think they’re about to get lucky. So it’s easy to get a man to take you back to their place. A woman would take more time to work. Except you are quite attractive,” you reasoned.

It was freeing to tell Harry everything. He had plenty of questions for you and seemed to be more intrigued than put off. You’d never told a man you slept with about what you did honestly. But Harry was… well he was Harry.

You two didn’t wind up getting as much sleep as you intended that night. You ate the rest of the convenience store junk food for dinner and tried to sit through watching some crime drama program on TV but when you two got into a heated debate about which television show was better, Killing Eve or The Mentalist (there is no competition, Killing Eve is far superior), Harry told you he knew more about the law than you and then he Harry dragged you over his lap, pulled your shorts down, and spanked you, which led to him fucking you so hard against the headboard that the wall behind it was punctured. You both laughed about it but the headboard hid the damage well enough.

And then you woke before the sun rose and Harry had you in his arms next to him and you couldn’t help yourself when you kissed over his chest and nuzzled into his pecs a little, kissing over his nipples and Harry woke up when he felt your mouth on him.

“What’re you doing?” He spoke in a groggy voice.

You tilted your head back to peer up at him, “Your chest is so nice, Harry. Your muscles and little nipples. I’ve never felt the need to kiss on a man’s pecs before I met you,” you grinned at him. And it was true. Harry’s body was insane but his chest was so nice and he always smelled so good anyway, so it was hard to control yourself when it was right there in your face.

Harry adjusted his hold on you and moved himself down to your breasts, “I feel the same about your pecs…” he laughed as he licked over your left nipple but you weren’t laughing. His warm mouth on your tit, the way his back was flexing, the messy head of brown curls at your chest, his naked body…

You pushed him down and climbed on top and rode him hard. It was a delicious pre-dawn orgasm for you both before going back to sleep for a few more hours, only to wake up and do it all again.

Harry had you on your back as he hovered over you, fucking you slowly as you both gradually woke up and worked yourselves toward release. Sleeping naked together also didn’t help. You both insisted that was the best way to sleep, and it truly is, but when you’re naked and in bed with a man that looks like Harry, and talks like Harry, with a cock like Harry’s, well, you learned you cannot resist and when he was just as down as you the result was a lot of sex.

And plus you just really liked him and he really liked you. Even if you were debating about crime dramas or arguing about UK politics (which you really knew very little about, but you wouldn’t admit that to him and let him win) it was all like foreplay to you. And he liked your attitude and how combative you tended to be even if he said you were a brat for it.

By the time you’d packed up your things and gotten a ride from Bob to the shop to get Harry’s car, you were so satisfied from all the orgasms you had, you felt like you could resist Harry sufficiently for a while. And Harry was probably in the best mood you’d ever seen him in. Of course, he was, he’d been having sex for almost two days straight and getting his prick sucked. All those feel-good hormones would put anyone in a good mood.

The bumper didn’t match the rest of the car but Harry didn’t want to wait any longer to get it painted to match. He’d worry about that later. It was road-ready and it was time to head back North to Cottonwood.

You and Harry decided to head back to your mom’s to get your car, stay the night in Cottonwood, and then figure out what to do next. Before you got back on the road Harry had made the decision to call Rebecca and tell her what was going on (well, a version of what was going on).

The call didn’t last as long as you thought it would. Harry was leaned against the driver’s side door while you fiddled with your phone inside the car. You could hear most of what was said.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry,” he lied that he’d left his phone in his car after the small accident and it took longer to get the car worked on than he anticipated.

He said he was still trailing you but that he was having doubts that you were guilty anymore which had your ears perk up.

“I haven’t seen anything from her that suggests she’s the one. I thought I had a good lead but I was wrong, Volanti… I understand… I know,” he sighed as he spoke.

When he got into the car he rubbed his hands over his face and then looked over at you, “She wants me to stay on you for one more week just in case, and then they’re going to start moving the case to a cold file of sorts if there aren’t any more reports of the crime. She said you’re probably on to me which is why you haven’t made a move,” Harry laughed, “and I guess technically that’s true.”

You smiled and nodded, “I’m definitely on to you Detective Styles,” you laughed, “but does that mean I won’t be a suspect anymore once the file is moved?”

Harry started the car up and looked in his rearview mirror as he backed up, “You’ll still be a suspect, but as long as you don’t do anything it should be okay. I think they’ll put less focus on it, that’s what happens with cold files. The case still gets worked, just not as aggressively.”

That all sounded like very good news to you. It was a relief to know it was Harry that was the one who was working the case and not another cop. If had been anyone else you might already be in jail at that very moment.

The drive back to Cottonwood was smooth going. Your mom was surprised you were coming back so soon, and that you were bringing Harry.

“So…” Harry said with a sigh, “I was thinking I’d just get a room and that motel. I don’t want you to get all bent out of shape over it. I just think out of respect for your mom we shouldn’t be sleeping in your room together.”

You frowned but you knew he was probably right. It wouldn’t be smart to have him in your bedroom with your mom right next door. There’s no way you’d be able to stop yourself from doing something to provoke him and then getting dicked down even with your mom so close.

“Well, what if you just slept on the couch?” You looked over at him as he stopped at the stop sign before accelerating. You were only a few minutes from your mother’s house.

“Y/n,” Harry glanced over at you before placing his site back on the road, “I still think that’s a bad idea. From what I gather about you over these last few days,” he smiled keeping his eyes ahead, “is that you’d probably try and seduce me anyway. Just knowing I’m in the same house as you would be trouble. You can’t resist this,” he gestured his hand over himself.

You scoffed and shoved his arm, “Shut up. You’re the one that would be begging me to let you in my bedroom. If anyone’s weak here it’s you. Just consider how we met and that’s all I need to say for you to know I’m right,” you crossed your hands over your chest with a grin as you looked out the window.

Harry laughed, “Oh please. You were so dickmatized by me that you didn’t even see it when a cop was inviting you to his room. And the way you begged me this morning…” Harry pulled up in front of your mom’s house and parked, “you’re obsessed with me and my cock and you can’t deny it.”

You squinted your eyes in fake annoyance as you looked at the man who was grinning at you. You realized it was a bad idea to have him stay at your mom's. Of course, it was. You were both unable to resist and that was the truth.

Harry grabbed your suitcase and pulled it from his trunk, rolling it up to your mom’s front door behind you.

Your mom had left for work already, she told you to make yourself at home. You led Harry to your bedroom and he looked around at everything in your room when he sat your luggage by the door. You watched him closely as he leaned in and looked at pictures and the little trinkets you had from when you were younger.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” you said to Harry. He stood upright and turned back to you and nodded.

When you got back to your room, Harry was sitting on the edge of your bed with a shoe box in hand and that damn dimpled grin. Your eyes widened when you realized what shoebox it was. You had a variety of shoeboxes where you kept little things for yourself. Small mementos, notes from friends and exes, pictures, and in the specific box he was holding, a small dildo, plastic cuffs with pink fur, and a half-used box of condoms. It was from your quick stint in college. You’d upgraded to a nicer dildo and vibrator when you moved to LA and so you didn’t need the beginner one in that box. Your mother knew you had it in there, she was the one who encouraged you to buy one in the first place. Not in a creepy way, but in a it’s healthy and normal to explore your body kind of way.

The condoms were for when you were fucking your ex, the guy who took your virginity. They were probably expired. And the cuffs, well they were mostly just a joke. They’d actually never been used before.

You walked to Harry and grabbed the box but he put his hands over yours and pulled you down onto the bed next to him, his grin widening, “What’s wrong, dear?” He laughed as he spoke.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s rude to go through someone’s personal shit, Harry. That’s from a long time ago anyway,” you tried taking the box from him but he lifted it up and out of your reach as he shook his head.

“Is it? Isn’t that what you do for a living? Going through people’s personal shit? Just thought this little thing looked quite well used is all. How many times did you make yourself come using it?” Harry was leaning in toward you as he kept the box just out of your reach.

“What is wrong with you?” You pushed at him but you couldn’t stop the smile that started to crawl over your face so you turned away from him.

Harry reached around and put his fingers at your chin and pulled your face back in his view. He’d placed the box down behind him and he brought his mouth over yours as his other hand took your wrists in his hand so you couldn’t grab the box like he knew you’d try for.

You laughed into his mouth but then Harry softly licked your top lip and moved his lips gently to the edge of your mouth and down to your jaw and spoke into the curve of where your neck and jaw met, “When does your mom get home?”

You would have rolled your eyes at him but his lips were brushing down your neck and your brain didn’t seem to work very well around Harry. You sighed and closed your eyes, “A couple of hours,” you spoke softly.

Harry let go of your wrists and stood from the bed, removing the lid from the box and dumping its contents out. He lifted the little dildo and raised his brows at you, “Good. Then you have time to show me how you use this on yourself,” he walked to stand over you where you sat and you tilted your head back to look up at him.

“Harry… come on. Seriously…” you said as you started to shake your head.

Harry tilted his head to the side and looked at the dildo and then down at you before getting to his knees on the floor and crawling between your legs, moving them apart to fit himself in, and placing the dildo down by your thigh, “What if I beg you?” He put his arms on either side of your lap and gave you, what you could only describe as puppy dog eyes, “Say yes, please. I want to see it. Please?”

How were you supposed to say no to him when he rounded his eyes like he did and spoke so sweetly, using, please?

You closed your eyes and shook your head with a smile, “Harry, you’re insane,” you laughed before opening your eyes to look back at the man between your legs. He moved his hands up to the tops of your thighs and kept his eyes soft on you, “Please, Y/n?”

You huffed a breath through your nose and brought a hand up to his jaw, “Okay. Then you’ll need to do something for me next time I ask. No matter what it is.”

Harry nodded and hoisted himself up to crawl over you, making your back hit the mattress and he pressed his mouth onto your neck. You felt him pluck at the front of your shorts to unbutton them and then he swiftly moved them down your legs before pushing you further into your bed as he stayed over you.

He sat up and ran both hands on the insides of your thighs and pushed your legs further apart. You were still wearing your panties when Harry began to thumb over the spot where your clit was hidden under the cotton of your underwear.

“Gonna get you all wet first,” he looked from where his thumb was up to your face, “which shouldn’t be hard since you love my fingers on you. Don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes and looked down to where his hand was, “You’re so full of yourself.”

Harry let out a loud laugh and removed his hand. He stopped for a moment as he looked down at you before tearing your panties down your legs and behind him into the floor. Harry scooted himself so he was latched on to your pussy with his mouth and that effectively shut you up.

Harry’s mouth was good. He was good, there just wasn’t any other way to put it really. He knew what he was doing when it came to cunnilingus and you loved being on the receiving end. And it was obvious Harry loved giving head too.

The moment you were drenching his chin he backed away with a gasp and looked over your pussy, “All wet. Now it’s time to show me what you do with this little thing,” he said as he lifted the dildo up and pressed it over your clit.

You bucked up toward it and Harry smiled, “Oh? Do you want me to use it on you?” He smiled down at you as he lowered the silicone tip to your entrance, “I’ll do it for a little bit but then I want to watch how you do it.”

Harry pushed the toy inside of your cunt and you closed your eyes. You’d never had a man use a toy on you before so it felt so vulnerable to be lying on your childhood bed letting a cop fuck you with your old dildo.

“Not as big as me, but this works nicely for you I bet. Look how wet you are, Y/n…” Harry slid the dildo out and lifted it up and you opened your eyes to see. Yes, it was shiny, clearly, your arousal had covered the thing in its entirety and you nodded.

Harry dipped the toy back in and then pulled it out, then pressed it back in slowly, the sound of your wet pussy being parted with the silicone toy was actually pretty hot. You moaned and pushed your t-shirt up and squeezed your breasts. In all honesty, you were sure that you were feeling so good because Harry was doing it to you. Harry was so fucking gorgeous, and his deep, raspy voice egging you on was so hot.

After he pumped it into you a few more times Harry stopped, leaving the toy inside of you and pulled one of your hands down to grasp the dildo, “Okay. Now you do it. I want to know how you masturbate with this. Looks so pretty already, Y/n.”

Harry sat back and undid his jeans, pulling them down just enough to free his cock from the front of his briefs. That got you going even more. The view of his cock in his hand while you pressed the skinny dildo in and pulled it out a little.

After some pushing and pulling into and out of yourself with the dildo, you decided it was time to add your fingers to your clit. So, with one hand you rubbed your little button and with your other you fucked yourself. Harry’s cock was so hard and long in his hand and the sight of it was yummy. You watched him stroke himself as he watched you with the toy in your pussy.

You went faster, really getting the toy as deep as it could go, making it nearly disappear on each inward thrust and Harry’s breaths got deeper as he spit over his tip and smoothed his saliva down his shaft, “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking pretty. You gonna come on that little dildo for me?”

You needed to concentrate, because as good as it felt with Harry’s eyes on you and the dildo inside, you could only imagine Harry inside of you at that moment. His cock really filled you up and pressed into parts that the dildo couldn’t reach. You closed your eyes and panted as you quickened the pace of your fingers on your clit and continued pumping the dildo.

Harry’s own little noises were sending you too. You were spread out before him and Harry knew he could come easily like this, but he could see you were struggling.

You felt the bed shift and you opened your eyes to see Harry on his knees, pushing his jeans down further, and then his hand was covering yours, pulling the dildo out, “I think you need something a little bigger in there right now. What do you think?”

Harry put the dildo down on the bed and scooted himself between your legs and the whine you let out was pathetic as you nodded, “Yes. Fuck me please.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was dipping his large cock inside of you, stretching your muscle and fucking you like you needed.

Harry lifted your legs and put them on his shoulder as he continued rolling into you. Everything was loud and fast. The bed was nearly bouncing off the floor with the way he was pounding into you and your pussy was so happy a real cock was inside of you. And once again, you realized Harry was inside of you with no condom. You guys were asking for trouble. You were okay as far as birth control was considered, but you hadn’t discussed anything further. Harry could be diseased for all you knew but your brain only worked at half capacity when his cock was in view. Or inside of you. And all you knew, despite your better judgment, was that having him without a condom was like having full-fat, real-sugar ice cream with all the toppings as opposed to sugar-free vanilla with only one or two toppings. The condom really did make a difference in the way it felt and it still felt really good with Harry but without one, you felt all his ridges, and his warmth and the sound of his dick pushing into your wetness was even better. He also somehow felt harder and thicker without the condom, if that were possible.

“That’s what you needed, isn’t it? Needed this cock,” Harry panted his words between breaths.

You moaned and grabbed for the back of his thighs to keep hold of something.

“Tell me you needed my cock, Y/n…” Harry slowed his hips and looked down at you.

You weren’t in a state to answer him like he wanted. Your thighs were shaking, your heart was pounding, and your head was mush. The way he was sinking into you made your gut tighten.

But when Harry stopped altogether he lowered your legs, your feet hitting the mattress and Harry leaned over you, “Tell me,” he grasped your chin in his hand as he rutted upward into you causing you to gasp for breath at the harsh thrust, “that you need this cock, Y/n.”

Harry just wanted to hear it. He wanted the pleasure of you telling him you needed his cock. That would have made his whole week. He loved it when he was wanted and needed. And he also wanted to hear you say it because he wanted to tell you he needed your pussy. It was the closest he could allow himself to get to saying (or thinking) that he needed you or hoping that you needed him. So, the next best thing was if you needed his cock.

You looked at the man above you and realized he meant it. He wanted you to say it and so you nodded and breathed your words out, “I need your cock, Harry.”

The smallest quirk of a smile broke out on his face when he responded, “Fuck that’s good,” as he began to rock into you slowly, “Because I need your pussy, Y/n.”

And when Harry dipped down and kissed you as he continued thrusting into you, it became clear to you why he wanted you to say it. You understood what he really wanted with the kiss he gave you. The soft brush of his lips on yours, the way his tongue ran along the seam of your lips, and how both of his hands moved up to your face, holding you in place as he continued peppering deep kisses to your mouth, slipping his tongue past your lips.

You were in heaven every time Harry kissed you. It wasn’t something you could explain. Your feelings were hard to identify, especially because you hadn’t known Harry that long. You’d watched and read plenty of romances. You knew about the fabled existence of falling hard for someone too fast. You’d just never experienced it in real life and didn’t think it was something that would happen to you. So you wanted to be very careful. You trusted Harry but did he even know what he was doing to you? Did he see it happening to himself?

If you were to select a type to fall for quickly, you’d easily answer it was Harry’s type. Sweet and spicy and stubborn. Handsome, obviously. And it’s not like you were really looking for anyone. Your plan was to continue doing your thing for a few more years and then you’d retire and let life happen to you from there. You never saw yourself settling down with anyone. You figured you wouldn’t really find anyone that you could stand for too long. And who would be able to stand you and your smart mouth either? It would be easier to just have the occasional thing with someone here and there. You wouldn’t rule out meeting someone who could be a partner for you, but you doubted anyone would want to stick around for too long.

And you still felt that way. You felt like Harry would grow weary of your attitude. He deserved a nice woman with a regular job, who was honest and thoughtful. You weren’t any of that and any man you might fall for would deserve a little more than you could give certainly.

You felt the blissful unfolding of your orgasm spread over your middle as Harry’s lips stayed on yours and his cock turned your insides to molten lava. You gasped at how deep he was. His hips were pressed into yours and it gave you what you needed inside and out, rubbing into your clit perfectly.

“You want my come inside of you again, Y/n? Yeah?” Harry moved his mouth away from yours and looked down at you as he ravaged your inner walls with his thick length.

You kept your mouth parted as you nodded and whimpered his name. He could feel your pussy clamping down on him just as you were about to come so he thrust into you harder, deeper, his groin pressing over your clit in synch with his thrust and you cried out, holding onto his back for dear life, your fingers pressing into the muscles on his lats and he groaned when he felt your spasming orgasm around him, squeezing and pulsing.

Harry kept driving into you, the bed below you squeaked and for a moment you thought it could break from the movement but then you heard Harry’s groan and he said your name as he moved his mouth over yours and spurted his come into you before you were even done coming. You tried returning the kiss but your lips wouldn’t close as you trembled and moaned.

Harry rutted up into you a few more times, pumping his come inside of you before pressing up and burying himself into you, stopping his movements as he let himself feel you around him as he came down from yet another orgasm for the day.

Harry laid over you and kissed your cheek softly as you both caught your breaths, your heart rate slowly normalizing. It was quiet and gentle. You put your hand into his hair and ran your fingers through his curls with your eyes closed.

But then you heard something outside of your bedroom and both your and Harry’s eyes widened as you quickly looked at one another.

“Fuck,” you whispered as Harry pulled out and jumped off your bed. He tossed you your shorts and he quickly slid his jeans up his legs. Both of you still had your t-shirts on luckily so you were partially dressed. You pulled your shorts up your legs and winced as Harry’s come dripped down your thigh. The shorts would need to be changed out for something else to wear after you investigated the noise that had come from inside the house.

You heard it again, the sound of someone moving things, setting things down.

You quickly opened your door and Harry grabbed your wrist and spoke quietly, “Behind me,” he said as he pulled you to his back and slid out of the room in front of you, sneakily walking into the hallway and then quietly moving into the living room. You followed close behind, Harry’s large frame covering you from seeing much beyond his back.

“What the fuck?!” You heard a familiar voice shriek and Harry’s tense stance loosened as he laughed and turned to you, moving out of your way so you could see who the intruder was.

But you knew who it was the moment you heard her voice. Raechel. You told her you were headed back to your mom's and that you wanted her to drop by. You forgot all about that, though, as soon as Harry started playing around with you. You slapped your hand to your forehead.

Raechel stood with her mouth dropped open as she looked from you to Harry and then back to you. She sort of looked like she was about to leave with her purse on her shoulder and the way she was standing close to the front door.

“Uh… this is Harry,” you gestured toward the man next to you and then pointed at Raechel, “Harry, this is Raechel.”

Harry nodded at Raechel, “Nice to meet you, Raechel,” he moved forward and stuck his hand out to shake but she only looked down at his hand and then back to you before responding to Harry, “Did you at least wash your hands? I heard you guys, so…” she trailed off and the look on her face was still surprise and confusion.

You laughed and shook your head, “Well, we sort of didn’t have time when we heard you in here. Thought it was my mom for a second.”

After you and Harry cleaned up a bit and you changed your shorts for a skirt, the three of you sat in your mom’s living room and tried to forget about the awkward greeting you’d just had.

Raechel kept looking Harry over and you could tell she was a little uncomfortable. Which was understandable given that she heard him fucking you before she ever even met him.

“Y/n, um… can I talk to you in private for a sec?” She looked at Harry with a smile.

You nodded, “Sure.”

You went into the backyard and sat on the porch swing together. She wanted to know who he was and where you met him and all the details about him right away. Some man you’d never once told her about that you were now bringing to your mom’s house. A man whom she heard fucking you the moment she walked into the house.

But it wasn’t easy to explain. Not when you weren’t sure what to say just yet. Was it okay to tell her he was a cop? That he had been trailing you? That you were considered a suspect for the crimes you’d committed? She knew what you did for a living already so it might not be much of a surprise to her but it wasn’t as easy as just a nice little story like we met at a volunteer outing and the rest is history!

So you told her bits and pieces but left out big details because you needed to know what Harry was okay with you saying. She wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

“So, you’re not going to tell me much then? Is he in cahoots with you? Like, you know… stealing and stuff?”

You laughed and shook your head, “No, it’s not like that. I’ll tell you soon. I promise. But it’s a long story and we’ll want to sit down and discuss it in detail when the time comes. But right now is probably not the best time to do that.”

She smiled and nodded toward the house and turned back to you with her eyebrows raised, “But he’s good in bed?” She chuckled. She heard enough to surmise that you were getting it good when she walked in.

You coughed out a laugh and looked toward the house and back at Raechel, “The best.”

Your mom came home not long after your “talk” with Raechel and the four of you decided to go out for Mexican food. There weren’t many restaurants in Cottonwood but Macias restaurant was pretty good for small-town California. Your favorite was the cheese enchiladas with salsa verde.

You all cozied up into a booth and ordered your meal and margaritas. The sun was going down and the restaurant was playing some classic banda-style music. You and Harry sat next to each other while Raechel and your mom sat across from you. You noticed the way your mom was eyeing you and she was being nice not to scare Harry away with a million questions. But you were pretty sure that at that point any questions Harry was asked wouldn’t scare him away given the little secret between you two.

“So, Harry, are you going to stay over tonight? There’s only one motel here in Cottonwood and I wouldn’t recommend it to my enemies,” your mom said as she sipped her salty margarita (Macias usually put a bit too much salt on the rim of the glass that wound up melting into the drink).

Harry tapped his fingers on the table and looked down at you before answering your mother, “I figured I’d just get a room at the motel tonight. I don’t want to be a bother to you in your home.”

Your mom snorted a laugh and nudged at Raechel’s side, “Doesn’t want to be a bother yet takes my daughter away with him to god knows where after I haven’t seen her in so long…”

You tapped the table and raised your brows, “Mom…” you warned her.

She put her hands up, “Sorry… it’s just that I don’t think having Harry stay over is going to put me out in any way more than… well, it’s just that I think I’d like to have you stay for a week like you said but then a handsome, mysterious man shows up and you leave with him and it’s all so secretive and strange…” she paused and laughed, “I’m thinking this second margarita is making me forget my manners, but come on… you have to admit this is all very suspicious,” she waved toward you and Harry.

Raechel kept her eyes on you and nodded with a humph in agreement with your mom.

You smiled and sighed, “Can you blame me?” You batted your lashes with a grin and looked up at Harry, pinching his arm a little. You were trying to deflect from your mom’s scrutiny. She had every right to be suspicious, though.

“But you’re right mom,” you looked at your mom with a smile, “I promise to stay here with you for a week. Soon. And I’ll tell you everything. Maybe I’ll even be coming around more.”

You figured now that you had the police on you, you couldn’t do any more jobs or you’d surely get caught. It was probably time to lay low from now on. You could be happy with the amount of money you’d saved over the years. Your brokerage account was nice with a healthy amount of dividends already coming in every month. You’d continue to slowly deposit the cash you still had stashed around your apartment and then move that over to your brokerage account. You could live out your days with the money you currently had. There was no real reason to continue doing what you’d been doing until you turned 30.

Your mom had convinced Harry to stay over. She would make him a spot to sleep on the couch and he was secretly relieved he didn’t have to sleep in one of those awful beds at the Travelers Motel again. But he was a little bit concerned about doing something inappropriate in your mom’s home.

After Raechel left you, your mom, and Harry watched a few shows on television but you were exhausted. Harry stretched his body out on the couch and fell asleep rather quickly and when your head hit the pillow on your bed you were in dreamland in no time.

So when you woke up in your dark room and felt a large hand cover your mouth you blinked your eyes open and your heart jumped in your chest and you were foggy and confused. You tried to make the figure out above you but it was too dark and your brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders quite yet.

The large frame over you pulled you up and violently yanked you into their arms and that’s when you saw another large figure standing by your door. Your eyes widened to take in as much light as possible so you could see but then you felt something pinch your arm and you gasped into the palm over your mouth. You kicked your leg and felt your toe hit your nightstand which hurt like a motherfucker but it knocked your cell phone off the edge and onto the floor.

Heavy breaths, grabby hands, muffled words, a soft and comforting buzz throughout your body, and then shouting. A light above. A struggle.

You felt the floor under your back and you closed your eyes and knew Harry’s voice in the chaos. You heard the commotion but you were slowly being lulled into dreamland once again.

Harry heard the noise from your room and he was up in less than a second to check on you but that’s when he saw the man at your bedroom door, his back to the hallway. Big mistake. Because the man didn’t see Harry and Harry could see that there was another man in your room. Harry knew they’d leave from the front door when he turned back to the living room and realized they’d come in through the front door because it had been left ajar. Harry soundlessly made his way to his duffle bag and pulled out his gun, slipping the magazine into the grip handle and getting it ready to use if necessary. He looked out the window to make sure there weren’t more men and realized it was just the two idiots.

He silently walked back to your bedroom and stuck the gun to the neck of the guy who should have been on the lookout and spoke calmly, “Let her go.”

The man who had you in his arms dropped the needle he’d poked into the skin of your arm and you fell to the floor with a thud. Harry turned the light on and saw that the two men in your room both had ski masks and the one that was closest to you pulled his own gun out and aimed it at you, “Drop your gun or I’ll shoot her,” his fabric stifled words barked.

Harry pressed the gun harder into the lookout’s neck and shook his head, “You won’t shoot her. You need her for whoever hired you. Now put your gun down. Now!” Harry moved the man he was holding into the room further and he heard your mother behind him suddenly.

“Go back into your room! Call 911! Tell them we have two armed intruders,” Harry shouted at your mother, not turning to look back at her but keeping his eyes on the man with the gun aimed at your thigh.

“That’s a big mistake. This girl is wanted by the cops. If you call them she’s going to prison. We’ll get a slap on the wrist,” the man with the gun tried to reason.

“Wrong. I’m a cop and you’ve threatened me and my safety. That will land you in prison,” Harry scoffed and moved in closer to the man with the gun.

“A fucking cop? What?”

Harry kept the gun at the neck of the man in front of him while he patted him down with his other hand to check for a weapon. He found a gun tucked in the back of his pants and pulled it out, still keeping his eyes on the man with the gun and keeping his own gun tucked into the lookout’s neck. Harry shoved the man down to the floor and put his foot onto the middle of his back and now had the gun aimed at the man who was standing over you.

Both of Harry’s hands were now on his gun, raised in a stance to shoot, aimed right at the other man’s head, “Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot you.”

The man with the gun raised his hands in surrender and slowly knelt down, putting the gun on the ground.

Harry stepped harder into the middle of the back of the man who was under him, keeping his gun aimed at the man next to you, “Kick the gun away from yourself.”

The man complied. He knew he was fucked. Harry was trained and they didn’t realize they were breaking into a house where there was a cop inside.

When Harry had both men on the ground, face down, hands zip-tied behind their backs he knelt between them and lifted your arm to check your pulse. You’d be okay.

“What did you give her?” Harry looked at the needle on the ground and back to the man who seemed like the brains of the operation.

The man told him what was in the needle and then Harry asked who sent them. He wanted an answer. Who hired them and what did they want?

Neither man wanted to talk. But when Harry twisted the wrist of the lookout and pressed his knee into his back he spoke lowly into his ear, “Tell me what you want with her.”

“She stole something important! We were just going to get it back is all!” The man whined as Harry put his weight into where his knee was digging in and twisted his arm harder.

“Give me a name,” Harry growled at the man just as he heard the sirens of police approaching.

Harry didn’t get a name but as he suspected, they were hired to kidnap you and hold you for ransom or get the important item back for whoever had hired them.

The paramedics looked you over as the two men were put into handcuffs and placed in separate cop cruisers. Harry showed his badge and told them who he was and that he’d been on a case that was a dead end. He came clean about some of the details but not all. This would get back to his boss for sure. He lied and said he was on a stakeout in his car when the men entered.

Your mother was beside herself but Harry kept her calm and told her she’d done well. With his arms around your mom, as you were loaded into the back of an ambulance, he helped her into his car to follow it to the hospital, “You did exactly what you should have. You even had them bring an ambulance. Y/n is going to be just fine.”

And Harry told your mom everything on the short trip to the hospital. She saw his badge and how he had a gun and told the other police who he was. But he reassured her that you weren’t going to be going to jail, “I don’t have any evidence and even if there was, I wouldn’t be taking her to jail.”

You woke up with a headache and a sour stomach. It felt a lot like when you woke up after Oregano had given you something. Painful and grating.

Your mom was in your view the moment your eyes popped open, “Y/n! Honey! Look, Harry!”

And then you saw Harry over you, his messy curls hanging in his face.

After a series of questions, filing a report, and one last check-in with the doctor you were free to go.

You learned about what had happened from both Harry and your mom. You always knew what you did was putting you at risk for something like that, you just never thought it would happen to you. Attempted kidnapping? Someone had hired these men to come after you. Would it be possible there were others out there too?

And for the first time, you were scared of what was going to happen next, rather than looking forward to what the day held. You’d always thrived on not knowing and the thrill of throwing caution to the wind. But now you were terrified. You weren’t safe anymore.

You stayed in your room with your mom bringing you water and speaking softly to you. Harry popped in to tell you it was okay and that he wasn’t going anywhere. But you just needed a minute to wrap your head around it all. What if Harry hadn’t been there? And you couldn’t remember most of what had even happened to you and that was terrifying. Whatever they’d been looking for was long gone. You never kept anything you stole (except a few purses and nice coats). What would happen if they found out? Would they just then kill you? God, you couldn’t stop your mind from racing about the what-ifs.

When the sun began to set Raechel came over and you finally decided to move into the living room with everyone. Your mom had ordered pizza from the Eagle’s Nest and Raechel picked it up on her way over.

You listened as Harry explained everything to Raechel and you learned that he’d already told your mom everything. You ate your slice of pizza slowly and everything just felt so far away and strange to you. You didn’t have much to say. Not yet anyway.

Harry wasn’t sure if you wanted his comfort or not. Everything was still so new for him too and what had just happened to you was traumatizing. So he decided to give you space as he sat in the armchair on the opposite side of the couch from where you were sitting.

Raechel stayed for a couple of hours but you were clearly tired and not thriving with company. Your mom cleaned up and Harry helped while you stayed on the couch like a zombie looking at the television. You heard them talking and didn’t care to know what they were saying. But you did note how scared you were feeling and how you didn’t want to be left alone in a room by yourself anymore. So you stood from your spot and walked into the kitchen to be near your mom and Harry.

They both turned to look at you and your mom pulled a chair out for you and helped you sit. You scoffed, “I can sit down on my own mom.” But you were thankful for her kindness and care. It did make you feel good.

Harry just watched from where he stood and then leaned against the cabinet as your mom sat next to you, “I know, honey. I just want to help. You’re okay physically but I’m still your mom…” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

You smiled at her and glanced over at Harry who hadn’t made his way over to you yet. Which suddenly stung a bit. Was he going to start being cold toward you again? You needed to feel safe and you wanted him as close as possible but he wasn’t budging from his spot as he looked at you with pity.

“Thanks, mom. I know. I appreciate it,” you gave her a weak smile and your heart felt heavy. You had the sudden urge to cry. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because of what had happened to you. It made you feel so violated. The men who came to get you both had guns and masks and drugged you. And now everything in your life would be different from then on. You’d probably have to move from your apartment and go into hiding if there were others after you. And now, the man with whom you felt so safe and comforted was standing as far away from you as possible, making no move to show you the kindness and care you needed.

The first tear that drizzled down your face when your lip began to quiver your mom saw, “Oh sweetie… it’s okay to cry, honey…” she rubbed your back and took one of your hands in hers.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to cry in front of anyone but you couldn’t help it. More tears ran down your cheek and the longer Harry was silent and remained standing across the room away from you the more you cried. Finally, you were pissed and you stood up, looking down at your mom, “Thank you, mom. I’m going to go into my room now.”

You slammed the door behind you and lay on your bed and cried. It felt so ridiculous to cry but your emotions were everywhere. You had no control over the way you felt at that moment. You reasoned that it was because of what had happened to you, and you understood the way it made you feel was confusing, but you really couldn’t get over the way Harry didn’t even try to comfort you. It hurt because you’d started feeling things for him and you just knew that if he wrapped you in his arms and you could bury your face into his chest and inhale his scent you’d feel so much better. But you were too stubborn to ask for that. He should just know that’s what you wanted. Obviously.

You wound up falling asleep, exhausted from the day, exhausted from your tears and your confusion. Exhausted from thinking about Harry.

Your mom went to bed, leaving her door wide open in case you needed her. Harry checked on you and saw you asleep on top of your covers, still dressed in your clothes. He wanted to help you into something more comfortable and pull you into his arms on your bed and listen to you breathe while you slept but he didn’t know if you wanted that. He figured it was better to wait until you told him you wanted him near.

Early the next morning Harry woke from his phone ringing. It was Rebecca.

He stood up from the couch and answered, “Hold on one minute…” he spoke into the phone. He didn’t want to wake anyone but he wanted to check on you first.

He saw you snuggled under your blankets on your bed and you looked like you were still asleep.

He turned and walked out the front door to speak to his boss.

“Hi, Volanti,” he said with a sigh.

She found out about the attempted kidnapping and told Harry he’d done good to follow the men into your mom’s house and stop them from taking you. She informed him that now that he’d been made, he’d be off the case. Harry listened to her tell him all the things he already knew.

He was to come back to LA and get his reassignment and in the meantime, she’d keep the case open but it would be a low priority since there wasn’t tangible evidence, “But, Styles, I have a feeling she is our girl. I know you said you don’t think so, and she’ll probably be laying low now that this has happened, but I have a gut feeling about it. The good news is, if there is any in this situation, is that this may scare her from doing it again in the future. And now that we know where she lives, where her mother is, and everything you’ve found out for us, we can keep an eye on her if she does slip up.”

It wasn’t the worst news but now Harry was expected back in LA. But he didn’t want to leave your side. What if more men were after you? He felt like you needed protection.

“I’m hesitant to leave so fast. If I wasn’t here she’d have been kidnapped. What do you think the chances are that others are after her?”

When you woke up the house was silent and your thoughts immediately swung to Harry. You sat up and looked at your cell phone. It was still relatively early. You moved your feet off your bed and stood up, stretching your arms overhead with a yawn.

In the living room, there was no Harry to be seen, but you could see he’d been on the couch with crumpled blankets bunched in the center. He wasn’t in the kitchen but you did see his duffle bag. You peeked out the front window and you saw him pacing, talking to someone on his phone. He looked stressed. Upset. Your heart dropped.

You went back to your room and closed the door. You had no reason to feel the way you were. To be so unsure of yourself and long for Harry the way you did. You two barely knew one another. Why would he feel the same way for you? Why did you feel anything at all? It made your head hurt trying to work out your thoughts and your emotions.

You heard him walk back in and your ears perked up. He wasn’t on the phone anymore, that much was obvious. You could hear shuffling and then you heard the bathroom door close.

You needed to get it together. To confront him and find out what was going on. To find out if he meant what he said when he asked you to stay with him.

So you went into the living room after running your fingers through your hair and trying to make yourself look at least a little cute. You sat on the couch and waited for him to come out. The moment he saw you his eyes widened, “Hey. How are you feeling?”

He walked in front of the coffee table and sat in the armchair. Away from you. And that had you feeling that squeeze in your chest again. The searing one that made you feel like he definitely didn’t feel the same way about you. How could he not see it?

“I’m better. But what’s going on, Harry?” You sat with your back into the cushions of the couch and kept your eyes on him.

Harry squished his brows together and shook his head, “What do you mean?”

“Like… I don’t know. Are you staying? Do you still…” you really didn’t want to finish what you were going to say, do you still want me around?

Harry crooked his head to the side and kept his eyes on you, “I have to leave. Back to LA. I’m being reassigned. So, I can’t stay for much longer. I told my boss I thought you should have protection for a bit longer but the local police are making the rounds. And your mom is here…” Harry trailed off when he saw the look on your face.

You tried to calm yourself. You couldn’t understand why you were so worked up about a man that you’d just met. No man was worth it. This you’d learned from your mom a long time ago. And now Harry was getting out as soon as he had the chance.

“Fine. Your job is done here. You can get your shit and go.”

Harry sat up straight and a look of confusion tore over his face, “What?”

You stood up from the couch and pointed at his bag, “Get your shit and go back to LA. You’re done, aren’t you? No need to stick around me anymore.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to feel hurt by you because he knew you were reacting to what he’d just said. But it did hurt. That was it? You wanted him gone?

Harry stood up and ran a hand through his hair and laughed, “So, that’s it for you? You just want me out of here?”

You nodded, “Yep.”

Harry shook his head and blew a breath out from his mouth and looked up at the ceiling and back to you. He wanted to be level-headed but you made him crazy. He looked back down at you with your arms crossed over your chest and he couldn’t help himself when he said it, “Good. You’re more trouble than it’s worth.”

He scowled at you, knowing his words were hurtful but you hurt him. He stepped toward his bag and knelt down to stuff something inside and then zipped it up. He stood up with his bag in his hand and pointed at you, “I’m disappointed in myself that I believed all the lies you told me. You really had me going, Y/n. I thought you liked me. At least a little,” and then he turned and headed toward the door, opening it and pausing for a moment. He hoped you’d say something. He hoped you’d stop him and tell him you didn’t mean it. But instead, he heard your sniff and a small gasp of breath so he turned and looked at you. You had tears on your cheeks and your hands were by your sides, balled into fists.

Harry frowned when he saw the state you were in but then you were charging toward him, your face red, “You asshole!” you said louder than you meant to, knowing your mother was still asleep. But you were angry and you couldn’t control the volume of your voice, “Don’t say that to me! You have been distant from me and I can tell you’re happy to be leaving finally. And you said it yourself, I’m not worth the trouble so you can fuck off,” you pushed at his chest and couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It was embarrassing. You were making a scene and crying in front of Harry while he was stoic and unbothered by you at all.

“You’re fucking mad, Y/n. You know that? I was trying to give you space! You had a traumatic thing happen to you and I didn’t want to crowd you. But you’re obviously ready for me to get out of your hair so I’ll make it easy for you.”

You grasped the front of his t-shirt, “You’re a coward! You put all this on me! I didn’t know what to do with myself and I thought you’d at least try and comfort me or something! Fuck!” You balled the material into your hands tightly, “But you’re ready to get out of here the moment Rebecca tells you it’s the time!”

Harry scoffed and dropped his bag to the floor, putting his hands over yours to pry them off of his shirt, “If you want me gone I’m gone, Y/n. Let go!”

Suddenly your mom was behind you, “What’s going on here?” She saw you grasping Harry’s shirt and the tears on your face. She heard the emotion in Harry’s voice and the look on his face.

It was that moment that your mom saw everything for what it was. You were both being stubborn and blamed the other for hurt feelings when the reality was so clear to anyone who could see you two.

“I was just leaving, ma’am,” Harry started to speak but your mom started laughing.

“Oh? And clearly, you want to leave and Y/n here is just shoving you out the door huh? You two are ridiculous. Look at yourselves,” she gestured toward the both of you standing close, Harry’s hands clutched over yours. “Do you not see it? For fuck’s sake you’re both acting like children.”

Harry loosened his grip on your hands and you let go of his shirt as you both turned to face your mom. You pointed at Harry, “He was going to just leave. After everything. He got the call to go back and so he was out as quick as he could be.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yeah? And you told me to get my shit and leave. Didn’t even give me chance to talk to you or anything,” He looked down at you.

Your mom shook her head, “Since I’m clearly the only adult in the room right now, I’m sending you both to Y/n’s room,” she raised her brows and pointed at Harry, “you’re not going anywhere until you two have spoken first. And Y/n,” she looked at you with a look of warning, “you better not fuck this up. You need to calm down and listen to the man instead of getting all bent out of shape like I know you do. Tell him the truth. Be honest with each other.”

Harry let out a breath and shook his, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I think she wants me gone and I’m not in the mood…”

Your mom stood in front of Harry and looked up at him, her finger pointed toward the hallway, “You aren’t leaving until you two have spoken. If after you two hash it out and find you don’t want to stick around and she wants you gone, well then, you’re free to go.”

“Mom, please…” you spoke but she shook her head and she picked up Harry’s bag, holding it close to her body, “Shut up and do what I said. You’re both acting like idiots. Go and talk now. You get this back when I’ve decided it’s time, Harry,” she jutted her chin toward the hallway.

Harry looked down at you and then back to your mom and you huffed in frustration as you stomped toward your bedroom, Harry following behind. You passed through into your bedroom and Harry stopped at the doorway, still wanting to make sure you even wanted him to follow you but your mom was right behind him, “Get in there. And you both better be honest with each other,” she looked from Harry to you, “because if you’re honest, I think you’ll find that you both feel the same way about each other. So stop being dumb.” She pushed Harry and closed the door behind him.

You sat on the edge of your unmade bed and looked down at your feet. You knew you were an overreactor when your feelings were hurt. You were either cold and detached, or overreacting and emotional. In this case, you were being very emotional and definitely overreacting. But that’s because the truth was that you really liked Harry and all you wanted was for him to return your feelings.

“You didn’t let me even try and tell you what I wanted,” Harry spoke first as he paced the room.

You looked up at him, “Well here’s your chance.”

Harry stopped pacing and turned to you, “I told you that I was being reassigned. That my boss wants me back in LA. And then I guess… I just wanted to know what your reaction would be to that but I didn’t expect you to blow up and tell me to leave. I hoped you’d want to come with me or ask me to stay or… I just didn’t expect you to tell me to leave like that.”

You watched him start to pace again as you responded, “And you didn’t even want to be next to me Harry. Last night or this morning. I needed some comfort. I wanted your care but you stayed as far away from me as possible, so yeah, I assumed that was it and that you were ready to go.”

Harry stitched his brows together and looked out your window, “I didn’t know if you wanted me close, Y/n. Everyone responds to trauma differently and I didn’t want to push it. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to comfort you. I just wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

You breathed out a laugh through your nose and shook your head, “And it felt like you made it clear that you didn’t want to be around. Telling me you were leaving and that I had local police here and my mom… so, if that’s what you want…”

Harry interrupted, “No. Stop. Let’s not assume anything about each other for a minute. I think we’ve got it wrong and we’ve both had our feelings hurt and we’re acting based on hurt emotions,” he spoke calmly and walked toward the bed, sitting next to you, “I don’t want to go, Y/n,” he looked from the floor over to you, “Or, at least if I do, I kind of hoped you’d want to come with me.”

You’d heard him say it twice now. That he hoped you’d go with him. You considered his words for a moment and sighed, “I do want that. I wanted you to tell me to come with you or something. To hold me and make me feel safe and tell me everything was going to be okay. Last night that’s what I needed but you kept your distance and it made me feel sick. Made me feel like I imagined everything you told me. And I know we don’t know one another that well,” you kept your eyes on his, “but… I don’t know. I just… figured it could have all been in my head that you felt about me the way I feel about you. Especially after telling me I’m more trouble than it’s worth. That really hurt, Harry.”

If your mother had heard you at that moment she’d have been proud of you for your honesty and total vulnerability. But you were very much still in your head and guarding yourself in case of any pushback from Harry.

Harry dropped his gaze down over your t-shirt and then back up to your face and pulled you into his arms, pressing your face into his chest. Just like you wanted last night. Just like you wanted this morning.

He didn’t say anything at first, instead, he just kept his arms tight around your body and smoothed a hand up and down your back. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and relaxed in his arms, placing your own arms around his middle and inhaling his scent. Comfort. Safety.

“I wasn’t lying. You didn’t imagine it. We both said it and I think we both should be better about saying what we want to each other instead of trying to act so tough,” Harry pressed his lips onto your forehead, “I am so sorry for saying you aren’t worth it. God that was dumb,” he kissed your forehead again, “And it’s not true at all. I think you’re incredible actually. I want you to come with me. I want to keep you around. Is that what you want?”

You smiled into his t-shirt and nodded, “Yeah. And this,” you said as you squeezed him harder and so he squeezed back until you were both laughing and Harry loosened his grip and brought a hand to the back of your neck and dropped his lips to yours.

You don’t know how long it was that you and Harry were making out like teenagers on your bed, but your mother knocked on the door, interrupting the moment before it could get too steamy, “Okay, I heard you guys laughing and now I’m concerned that you’re both naked. Please don’t have sex in my house. I’m still a mom. Come out when you’re decent.”

You laughed and Harry smiled down at you, his hand still at the back of your neck. He pushed his lips over yours once more and then parted from you, nudging his nose to the side of yours, “I like you.”

You held onto his biceps and smiled with your nose still pressed into his, “I like you too, Harry.”

Your mom was happy to hear you’d worked it out. And that you were staying for another day. You would leave with Harry the following morning to head back to LA with him.

“You better keep an eye on my daughter. She’s all I’ve got in this world. If you hurt her I’ll kill you. I don’t care if you are a cop,” your mom pointed at Harry as she made coffee. She was mostly joking. Mostly.

Harry glanced at you with a smile. He was glad you had your mom. She was tough and smart and she raised you to be the same. But he was even happier that you were going back to LA with him. He wanted to keep you with him so he could make sure you were safe. He knew that you were probably out of danger, that there probably weren’t others out looking to kidnap you, but he couldn’t know that for sure and he knew he’d feel better to have you close. But also for his own sake. So he could see you and touch you and… he tried not to let his mind wander further. Not in the kitchen with your mom standing fifteen feet from him.

 And you were finally getting what you needed from Harry because now he knew what that was. To stay near you. To hold your hand and brush his warm pads against your arm occasionally. To play around with you and not feel like he was going to hurt a delicate flower.

“You’re fucking up the recipe! Get out of the way!” Harry scolded you with a smile on his face as he bumped your hip from your spot so he could take over adding the ingredients to the bowl.

“Harry, it’s shepherd’s pie. There’s no way to fuck up the recipe,” you scoffed as you leaned over to watch him.

Harry stopped his hands mid-air and turned to you with a look of shock, “And that’s how I know you shouldn’t touch this sacred recipe. It’s not shepherd’s pie because this is made with beef. It’s cottage pie. Shepherd’s pie is made with lamb you absolute dolt. Get out of my kitchen!” He pointed toward the living room and went back to his work.

You laughed and your mom stood in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room watching you and Harry. She wasn’t sure yet about Harry but she liked his spice and his temperament. She liked how he handled you and after talking about what had gone wrong and why you’d been upset she understood why he kept his distance from you. She liked him. But she hoped he wouldn’t hurt you because who could know what the future held?

“Well, it’s not even pie if we’re being picky about semantics here. You British assholes act like you have a method but it’s the same shit and it’s just potato on top,” you pointed at the bowl and Harry ignored you as he opened up the refrigerator. You hopped up onto the counter and sat, watching Harry move about.

Harry took the bowl and added another ingredient and then he looked at you sitting on the counter. He didn’t know how he was going to keep it in his pants for another whole day. You two were at your mom’s and the next morning, super early, you’d both head out and the drive was long. You couldn’t really have at each other until you got to his house in Long Beach.

He put his hand over your knee and squeezed it and your heart did a little flip at his sudden sweetness. You liked how he could go from testy teasing to confection cute and then back again.

The three of you ate the cottage pie and watched a movie together. The day was relaxing and easy. A local police officer dropped by to ask some more questions and that was really the most action you’d had all day. Raechel had to work but she Facetimed you on her break and told you to take care on your way back to LA.

As you watched the movie you had your back leaned against Harry’s chest and his arm was draped over your front. It felt sweet and warm and you felt safe.

When you all decided to call it night you didn’t want to leave the comfort of Harry’s arms but you dragged yourself with a frown to your room and your mom commented about how silly you were being.

“It’s only for a night, Y/n. You’re in my house. I don’t want any funny business going on.”

But when the house was dark and quiet and you were sure your mom was asleep you crept into the living room and crawled over the top of Harry.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he lifted his blanket and opened his arms for you to climb atop.

“Yeah. I just want to sleep in your arms.”

So you settled on top of him and Harry shifted so it was more comfortable, wrapping his arms around you and finally, you fell into a deep dreamless sleep, comforted and happy and warm.

Part 6*

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[testedcatdraws]

Thoughts on Danganronpa Despair Time Chapter 2 Episode 14 (spoilers, obviously)

Alright, we have narrowed it down to two suspects, Eden and Ace!

Now, with other stuff that went on, we learned how Nico tried to kill Ace and that they regretted it. Plus they tried to frame Hu.

Another thing is that Rose's memory seems more like a disability, which makes since. It obviously had some uses, like last trial, but overall it seems to make Rose's life harder that kinda negates the uses it would have. I don't know if any real life disabilities are like Rose's or of DRDTdev just made this up, but either way this just sounds like a disability fictional or not. If it's not made up, then I guess I have nothing to say due to my lack of knowledge on it. If it's made up it does make since, humans might not be made to handle that much memory.

Now, who do I think is the killer? I think it's Ace, with the info we have of Eden so fare it's safe to assume she's at least somewhat good, though I think she's the traitor (her being the traitor is mostly a guess from her possibly clawing at Xander's eye due to the fork scene, other then that I have no real evidence so I'll just say it's a educated guess.) She also had a connection with Arei which would make them friends, and I see no evidence that Eden would fake it. Unless someone shows me evidence that Eden's secretly bad, or hates Arei in anyway, I think it's safer to assume she's innocent. With Ace he has no connections with Arei, which means he might feel less bad killing her. Arei's rather rude too so I doubt they had a good relationship, even if they barely had one. This means it's probably the suspect that Ace would feel less bad about killing. Plus since Arei had little to no connections with him people wouldn't suspect him. The reason he didn't kill Nico was to frame him, also probably because it'll be rather obviously revenge. Now, I could be wrong and Eden could be the killer, I do know that.

Alright, now lets play devil's advocate and see why Eden might be the killer! Eden might not be that good, it's rather evident that most people in the killing game aren't some UwU sweet cinnamon roll who do no wrong, besides Eden and Whit (Ok, that cinnamon roll is suppose to be overexaggerating but I'm sure you get what I mean), which makes them both suspicious. Whit's probably going to be the mastermind in my opinion, and Eden is probably going to be the traitor. This doesn't mean Eden's the devil or evil, as other characters aren't either. Xander tried to kill Teruko, Charles started as a jerk, and I'm sure you could find other stuff. They're heavily flawed, but they aren't evil either. This means Eden might've cared about Arei but since she's the traitor maybe she was threatened to do this in the cause of something more important to her, like a family member or someone else. Though, this is assuming I'm correct about Eden being the traitor.

That's all.

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Not So Routine- Chapter 8

Summary: Unexpected visitors cause your night to go astray. Luckily Mor is there to help anchor you.

Pairings: Eventual!Nessian x Afab!Reader Current!Mor x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Angst, men being disgusting foul little things, blood, weapons, swearing, wounds, passing out, vomit, bones breaking, child abuse from parent and death. Just please tread lightly if you are squeamish or uncomfortable with any of the above topics.

Word count: 3233

Bookshelf Series Bookshelf

It seemed that all the eventful experiences of the day were not in fact over. Because when you got home that night you paused dead in your tracks and stared widely at the forms waiting for you. Out of everyone you’d expected to be at your door it definitely wasn’t Azriel and Rhysand. You stared at them in shock and Rhysand tried to give you his best calming smile while Azriel didn’t even try to look less intimidating. 

“Oh, hello, I wasn’t expecting company today.” They were blocking your door and didn’t seem like they were going to move until your keys rattled. Rhysand stepped aside and Azriel tucked his wings in as you approached, you made quick work of the door before ushering them inside. You groaned as you realized you hadn’t cleaned up your apartment in a couple days. You hadn’t thought you’d need to since Mor was the only one that ever came over and she didn’t mind a bit of clutter. 

“I’m sorry for the mess. I wasn’t-” Your words were cut off by Rhysand. 

“Expecting company.” Nerves were working through you at a fast pace. You had a feeling that this wasn’t a friendly visit. Especially with the way Azriel seemed a little on edge. 

“Is this about Devlon?” You chewed on your lower lip so hard you started to taste blood before releasing it. 

“I’ve been gathering information on him and the males in ironcrest. I’m just wanting to iron out a few details with you.” Azriel’s voice surprised you as you realized this was the first time you’ve heard it. 

“Would either of you like tea or anything?” You stood awkwardly in the doorway to your kitchen that was just next to your front door. They both shook their head and you lead them towards your dining room table. You were thankful for the bench that lined one side of the table as Azriel was able to comfortably sit without his wings being in the way. 

“What would you like to know?” Azriel shot off a list of names in reply and had you confirm or deny their involvement. But you hadn’t known any of their names so that didn’t help at all. 

“We could try something different instead. If you’re comfortable with it of course.” You eyed Rhysand curiously already suspecting you wouldn’t like the words about to leave his mouth. 

“I could look at the memory and we could narrow down who they are that way.” A large wave of nausea took over you at the thought of reliving the experience that had scarred you not only physically but mentally and emotionally as well. 

“Does it have to be tonight?” You hadn’t realized you were picking at your nails until you pulled on a especially tender spot and you dropped your hands into your lap. 

“The sooner the better. I’m afraid that if they get wind of me digging around they might flee or try to hide any evidence of their activities.” Azriel’s voice shook you once again. Though from the stories you’ve heard of him you doubted anyone would figure out what he was up to. Unless of course he wanted them too. Rhysand seemed to take pity in the way you shook as he placed a calming hand on your arm from his spot next to you.

“Would you like me to request Mor join us?” You nodded your head quickly at his question, you knew her presence would help you undoubtedly. His eyes glazed over for a moment and after waiting with baited breath he came back. He didn’t even have to tell you what she said as she appeared in the space behind Rhysand. 

“I’m scared.” You whispered to her as she pulled a chair next to yours. She grabbed your hand that was closest to her and intertwined her fingers with yours. 

“I know but I’ll be here the whole time. Then we can go to bed afterwards.” She dragged the smooth skin of her thumb along the smooth skin of the back of your hand soothingly. You nodded your head at her before turning back to Rhysand, who was eyeing you and his cousin curiously. 

“I’m ready.” Somehow your voice came out steady and your hands didn’t shake. But nausea was something you couldn’t push away. This would be the first and the only time you showed it to someone else. 

“Would it be alright for me to share the memory with Azriel and Mor as you share it with me?” You nodded your head at him and began chewing on your lip again. Your eyes fluttered closed and then squeezed tight. Rhysand began to claw at your mind and you let out him enter as a shaky breath left your mouth. Once he found the memory you were whisked into it. 

When you had awoken that morning you groaned in pain. Your stomach and back felt like it was on fire and being stabbed all at once. You sat up with a wince and that’s when you noticed the wet feeling between your legs. You lifted the blanket up and stared at the blood that pooled between your legs. Panic set through you like water breaking through a damn. 

You weren’t exactly sure what was happening to you. But you knew that if your father found out that he’d find some way to punish you. So you got out of your bed and stood on shaky legs. There were chores that you needed to complete before Devlon came home. Even though you felt an ache and a sweat all over your body you couldn’t leave the chores unfinished. 

Your legs barely held you up as you exited your cramped room and made your way to the bathroom. You bunched up a small towel in your underwear to hopefully hold the blood that still steadily poured out of you. The rough feeling of the walls dug into your hand as you caught yourself from falling down the stairs when a particularly sharp jab spiked in your side. Your wings unused twitched open and closed behind you. After two large glasses of water to hold down the nausea and a mug of tea, with a bowl of oatmeal you finally started on your chores. 

Even though your father had a wife she did nothing to help you. Instead she would sit around most of the day and complain. She would complain about anything she could think of. Most of the time though it was you she’d complain about. Then there were some days where she would stay in her room and wouldn’t leave until your father came home. That left all the chores for you. It had become a routine at this point though. Wake up, eat breakfast, make your fathers bed, do the dishes, do the laundry, dust, sweep, mop, take care of the trash and then have dinner on the table by the time he comes home. 

You had just got done making dinner when your father came into the small house. The cramps had lessened as you worked around the house so you were going to bathe and wash the towels you had gone through while he ate dinner. But he called out to you when your foot met the second step of the stairs. You turned around nervously and you saw him take a deep breath. Then there was nothing but fury within his eyes. 

“Your first bleeding. Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Your whole body went on high alert as you looked at him. He was all but shaking with rage. The words wouldn’t leave your throat as fear settled within every nook of your body. 

“Answer me now.” He was baring his teeth at you, wings spreading out and chest puffing up. You shrank into yourself slowly under his gaze.

“It happened this morning, I didn’t know what was wrong. I am sorry.” You took the one step down and knelt before him. Wings sagging behind you and eyes gazing at the floor. You weren’t lying when you told him you had no idea what was happening. You had never been told of a first bleeding before. 

“You’re absolutely useless to me now. Go up to your room until I get you.” You hadn’t been prepared to be sent to your room. You’d normally receive your punishment immediately. It was typically a whipping with his belt or a couple of well placed kicks and punches to your body. 

You felt your breakfast from the morning coming up your throat as you stood and stalked up the stairs. Once you sat on your bed you stared at your wall for what felt like days but was really only a couple of hours. 

The trance you were in was broken as you heard your name being called through the house. You made quick work of going down the stairs and you went to kneel before your father again but he stopped you. The bile that you had finally choked down earlier threatened to come back up as he glared at you. He started walking towards the door and you stood in your place.

“Let’s go.” You hesitated at his words because you had never been allowed outside. From the day you were born all you had was the walls and rooms of your house. 

“I said let’s fucking go.” He stalked over to you and grabbed your hair roughly dragging you behind him. Your wings scraped against the floor as your legs stumbled beneath you to keep up right. The sharp chill of the breeze outside pierced the thin dress you wore and you hissed. You brought your hands up to your arms trying to rub heat into them. The snow seeped into the thin flats on your feet and chilled your toes instantly. 

You looked around and took in the sights of the camp you had only ever gazed upon from the windows in your house. No one was outside and that had you on edge even more than you already were. There was normally a slew of males drinking and rough housing at all hours. But right now it seemed everyone was inside. The wings on your back were twitching in agony at the sharp pricks of cold snapping at them. 

There was no sound to be heard other than your laboring breath and the curses from the male dragging you. The reality of the situation you were in finally set in as he dragged you closer to the trees. He pulled you through the foliage not doing anything to protect you against the lashing of the branches and leaves on your skin. You screamed as you hit a root in the ground and twisted your ankle, a loud crack ringing out through the silent night.

When you entered a clearing you noticed three males standing there. They all had wings but you didn’t recognize them as any of the males you had seen from the windows of your house. They didn’t even flinch at the way you were thrown to the ground before them. Your father spat at you as you cradled the wrist that had tried to catch you from your fall. 

“Do whatever you want to her. I don’t ever want to see her again.” His voice was pure venom as he directed the statement at the males. Before he promptly turned around and left the clearing.

Your eyes were wide and you pleaded with the males in front of you but they only laughed before one of them went to snatch you up. But you backed away from them as best you could with your injured leg and arm. That earned you a punch that went straight to your nose and cracked the bone efficiently. Blood sprayed out across your face and the ground and your head spun at the pain. 

You didn’t see the other one come up behind you. An arm wrapped around your neck and you clawed at the material of the shirt while you fought for your oxygen. He only squeezed harder even as your nails finally shredded his shirt and made contact with his skin. He brought you up and the tips of your now bare feet grazed the snow covered ground. Your vision blurred and you tried to let out a final plea but you couldn’t get a word out. The ache in your chest ebbed into a buzz throughout your body as your lungs continued to struggle. The last thing you heard before you passed out was the one that hadn’t approached you yet saying how much fun he was going to have with you. 

When you woke up, you gagged at the taste of blood in your mouth. You tried to open your eyes but they didn’t want to cooperate. It took you several more tries before they finally cracked open. You realized through the slits in your eyes that they were swollen. The dark room around you didn’t give you any clues as to where you were. But the laughing beyond the door gave you an idea. 

A loud scream ripped through your throat as you tried to stand. You looked down at your ankles and realized they were both shackled and the right one was swollen, bruised and had an odd angle to it. You tried to bring a hand down to your swollen ankle but noticed that they were also shackled and that your left wrist was in just about as poor condition as your ankle was. Your scream seemed to have garnered the attention of the Illyrians because the door was slamming open and light was flooding in. 

“Oh good, the bitch is awake.” You didn’t know where the voice was coming from as you squeezed your eyes shut. The light entering the room caused a sharp pain to throb through your head. 

“Now for that fun I talked about earlier.” You assumed he had a set of keys in his hand as you heard the sound of metal clanging together. Your suspicions were confirmed as you felt the shackles being unlocked from the floor. Two of them grabbed you under your armpits and started to drag you out to where they came from. You cracked your eyes open despite the light and tried to ignore the way the shackles pulled on your mangled wrist and ankle. 

The large table in the center of the room and the weapons lining the walls had you getting sick. The vomit mixed with the blood in your mouth and on your face and clothes as it came out of you. You heard one of the males next to you curse before a sharp pain radiated through your side. You glanced down and noticed there was a knife sticking out of your side. 

“Let’s get this done with. She’s fucking disgusting.” You figured you were even though you couldn’t see yourself. You knew there was blood and now vomit covering your face and clothes. You could feel blood pooling between your legs and down them. Your skin had tiny cuts and dirt and what not from being dragged through the forest and you were bruised in various places. 

“Get her on the table.” You tried once again to pull away from them but they only gripped you harder and the male that stabbed you twisted the knife. They picked you up and laid you face down on the table. Your nose smacked against the rough surface and you were sure they had broken it again. 

“What are you going to do?” Your question fell on deaf ears as they locked you down by your shackles and moved around the room. They all seemed perfectly in sync as they skirted around each other and handed each other different objects.

“Hold the half breed down. I’m gonna get started on the first one.” Your wings twitched at the words. Like they knew what was happening before you did. Pain shot through you with a vengeance as the first deep cut was made to your wing. You tried to push away the pain and fight but with the second deep cut you were succumbing to the black spots in your already hazy vision. 

The next time you opened your eyes you were numb. Every last part of you no longer feeling. You couldn’t feel the nasty cuts in your back were now laying bare on the dirty ground below you from where your wings were cut off. You couldn’t feel the snow seeping into your skin, the broken bones from earlier weren’t even a thought either as you stared up at the sun above you. A slow and cynical laugh left your lips as you realized this was the first time you had ever felt the sun on your skin. Because you couldn’t even feel the heat from it. 

A sound rang out somewhere near you but you couldn’t make it out as your ears rang. You hadn’t even noticed the blood that now poured down the sides of your neck and mixed in with your hair. Your eyes were still slits from the swelling when someone came and blocked the sun from your view. You blinked once and then twice, slowly as you tried to make out who was there. 

You watched their mouth move but couldn’t make out what they were saying. They came toward you and you couldn’t find it within you to fight them. Even when their wings finally came into view from where they stood tall and proud behind them. They knelt down beside you and hauled you into their arms. You didn’t feel any pain as they jostled you to adjust you better trying to avoid hitting the knife still lodged in your side. 

As you finally took in their face you realized it was a gorgeous female. You had never seen anyone as pretty as her, you decided. A small smile grazed your lips and you hoped this angel of death understood you were grateful for them before your eyes fluttered closed and you slipped into the darkness that had been fighting to consume you. 

A sob left your lips as you came back to your kitchen table. The males around the table looked at you in surprise and you shrunk into yourself but Mor was quick in standing up and gathering you into her arms, your legs wrapping around her middle. She smoothed a hand over your hair and laid a kiss on your forehead before whispering to her cousin and Azriel. You couldn’t understand what she was saying as your head was buried into her neck. 

She carried you to your room and laid you on your bed. You didn’t hear a door close but you felt a ripple of power through your apartment and figured that Rhysand must’ve winnowed away as Azriel slipped through his shadows. Mor carefully got you out of your day clothes and slipped you into a pair of sleep pants and a sleep shirt. She laid beside you once she was in similar attire and let you curl into her. She ran a hand up and down your back until you fell asleep with tear tracks down your face. Before you slipped into slumber you had uttered a sentence that rattled her bones. 

“I want the killing blows.”

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed getting insight into readers past. There will be more Nesta and Cassian in the next part. Thank you all for reading and as always likes, comments, reblogs and follows are much appreciated.

Tags(open): @kmc1989 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @luvmoo @wolfsbane44 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @pinksmellslikelove @waytoomanyteenagefeels @littlebbb @cat-or-kitten @brandywineeeee

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

If the Volturi found out about L, or perhaps they already know of him, do you think Aro would want to recruit him as a vampire? I mean, his immense powers of deduction are probably proof that he's gifted. He'd probably have some gift that makes him even better at solving crimes lol

Would L Be Gifted?

Per the Twilight universe, sometimes gifts work like that, sometimes they don't. Remember we get a biased view with the Cullens and their friends and the Volturi. The vast majority of people turned into vampires are not gifted, even if they had a particular talent while human.

Having great abilities as a detective would not necessarily become a gift in Twilight. Humans who for sure display some ability usually have a psychic ability that can't be explained such as Jane and Alec who caught Aro's attention, Chelsea who caught Aro's attention, or Bella Swan who was able to block mind readers as a human. L was never psychic so he doesn't fall in that category.

Could end up with a gift, might not.

If he does--

I wouldn't necessarily call L's talents the immense powers of deduction but more very good instincts that he then has to justify later with deductions that make sense to ordinary people.

The thing about Light was, logically, there was very little reason for him to be marked as Kira. On paper he was a brilliant student who had never gotten into trouble, they put cameras in his fucking house, and he never deviated from his schedule, never looked or acted anything but ordinary, and even was recorded looking normal while deaths were occurring (the potato chip incidents where he recorded himself pointedly not engaging in murder). He grills Light upon meeting him and Light acts perfectly ordinary. Light only starts acting strange after Misa was caught and even that is explainable as the stress and pressure of L having told him he was a primary suspect and beginning to doubt whether he was somehow unconsciously being Kira after all, which also explains Light's about face in prison several days later when he realizes "wait a minute, am I actually Kira, this is a bad idea". When Light is later imprisoned and his execution is faked, Light does not admit to being Kira even when it could have saved him (this is because neither he nor Misa are in fact Kira at the time or have any memory of it). Then of course we get the whole Yotsuba arc where Light is imprisoned, literally handcuffed to L so L can watch him at all moments of the day, L telling him day in and day out that he's Kira and under immense amounts of stress to end the case so the real Kira can be caught (as Light doesn't remember being Kira at this point), and all L admits to is "He's not Kira right now for some reason and this case is total bullshit". L is convinced from the moment Light catches his attention that Light is Kira, never relents despite what looks like the overwhelming evidence that Light is not Kira and justifies himself with things like "there's a 5% chance you're Kira" when it's very clearly 100% to him internally as he never, not once, considers the possibility that Light Yagami was not Kira.

Yes, L had narrowed down to him by having evidence that first Kira was in Japan/Kanto, then that Kira had a connection to the national police agency in Japan and thus was likely either a cop himself or a close family memmber who could in theory access the files from home, then that Raye Penber's death was the only one that seemed strange/Naomi Misora's sudden inexplicable suicide in the aftermath that allowed him to narrow down to the families Raye had been tailing, and that finally got him to Light. But even when he was at Light, that he zeroed in on Light the way he did is like a bloodhound on a scent rather than what I'd call a logical deduction.

The Kira case feels very much like a puzzle L's trying to solve when he knows the answer "Light is Kira" but he has to figure out why and how.

So, if L did have a gift, I imagine it'd be honing in on that instinct of knowing information about a person at a glance.

Would Aro Want to Recruit Him?

No, because Aro already has that in himself (who sees every thought a person has ever had) and Marcus (who sees all relationships a person has at a glance). Even if L didn't have the gift I described above, anything in that vein falls into something Aro already has in his employ.

Not to mention the hassle of making L (who for all he is an anonymous detective nobody knows is in the limelight a lot) disappear would be something Aro probably wouldn't want to involve himself in. (It seems, historically, Aro does not do this as people I would have expected Aro to turn who were very famous presumably died their human deaths in the Twilight universe and were left untouched.)

Or, of course, dealing with L as a person in an organization when even with Chelsea ensuring loyalty L is--a lot and deeply enjoys making people uncomfortable and angry.

[sunshinechay]

Not gonna lie, I do like the twist that the gang finds out Nont isn’t Nant early on in the series.

As much as I love the “twin takes the other’s place secretly” trope (Not Me and Twins my beloved) there honestly was no reason for Nont not to tell them now.

Porsche may be sus af but I’m starting to think it’s just sus in a usual way (bitchy little asshole who will sell you to Satan for one corn chip) and not in a “I killed Nant and I’m trying to be super cool about the fact that his look alike showed up unexpectedly”.

I’m not sure if Nuth did it either to be honest. He seems like a red herring if ever I saw one but I don’t know who else it could be.

I’m also tentatively ruling out Aob as the actual murderer but not as any kind of mastermind/co-conspirator for the same reason I’m ruling out Soong for now. The murder doesn’t have any noticeable tattoos while both Aob and Soong do. And again, it’s only a tentative ruling out, that could change. Plus Aob is way to muscular to be the murderer (the fact that that is part of my evidence).

It’s pretty clear that Prom had/has some kind of feelings for Nant, though with what little evidence we have, I think it’s more likely that he is developing feelings for Nont rather than Nant. As well, he didn’t have a dog mask which I think is also important. He could have gotten rid of it but somehow I don’t think he did.

Captain had a vested interest in keeping Nant alive. He was selling the clips that Nant was filming. Why kill your source if in come. Plus, Captain is way too smart to film himself killing Nant.

Do Keen or Puen even know who Nant is?

Finally, Zouey is turning out the be exactly what was said on the tin for him. The naive virgin in over his head and falling for a boy he has no business falling for. Plus I’ll bet my last nickel he had a massive crush on Nant. While him murdering Nant could explain he fear of sex, he seems to have other reasons that First at the very least knows what it is.

So having seen a few episodes my suspect list is narrowed down to (for now):

- Teena (unlikely but still a candidate)

- Jump (also unlikely but still possible because he has the smallest connection to Nant, could change very quickly)

- Nuth (again I think he might be a red herring but I digress it could still be him)

- Phop (if you think I’m ruling out the guy who “bought” Nant’s laptop then you are wrong)

-Porsche (again I think he’s just kind of sus in the usual way, not the murderer kind of way but alas)

And my dark horse of this competition:

- First (highly unlikely but I’m not ruling him out completely)

[sweetfirebird]

A Little Wild

This is one of two prompts fills for Marianne who quoted A Suitable Consort as a suggestion:

“I think I would also prefer to do something wild—but not too much. Please and thank you.”

Content tags: passing reference to the very real attack on Mattin’s life in ASC. Spoilers for A Suitable Consort.

Mattin had learned his lesson about traveling through the capital, and not only made sure to inform his guards of his plans—and therefore inform Mil if he hadn’t already discussed his plans with his spouses-to-be that morning—but to now dress a little more discreetly.

Not that he had dressed loudly before, but he also hadn’t been known or recognizable before. That was he now was slightly worrying, although he was trying not to let that show around Mil or Arden. But removed his hair clasps and some of his jewelry before going out, if he remembered to, and planned to wear a hooded cloak until the weather warmed up too much to make it comfortable.

All of which was to say, he now took precautions and therefore it wasn’t his fault that he’d turned around after getting stuck in a particularly crowded section of the public market and been unable to find his guards. Or perhaps they couldn’t find him. He was dressed simpler now, and in a hood, probably did not stand out much from the others around him.

He stayed where he was, trying not to get jostled by distracted shoppers eager for the first fruits and vegetables of the spring, and all the goods now able to come downriver from the north with the winter snows, and then the thaw and resulting mud, all gone. He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t. The odds of someone who intended harm finding him when he happened to be alone were slim.

The odds of someone removing his guards in order to harm him, however, were unfortunately much higher.

Mattin considered standing on the nearest barrel he could to look over the market, or if that would attract too much attention and it would be better to slip away and return to the palace as quickly as possible. He didn’t get a chance to decide—a large figure in a black cloak and hood stepped in front of him.

His view and exit blocked, Mattin raised his head, only to stare at Arden in stunned surprise. His heart was still pounding with panic, but Mattin stared for another moment then frowned reflexively.

“You said you didn’t sneak out anymore.”

Arden, his head tilted down to keep the hood in place, gave him a hint of a smile. “I never said that.”

Mattin narrowed his eyes. “You let me believe it and that’s just as bad as a lie.”

“I suspect that is debatable,” Arden answered, unrepentant. “Anyway, it ended well, since I saw you. Speaking of things promised and agreed to,” his amused tone faded, “you promised to never go out without guards.”

Mattin nearly snapped his reply. “I have guards. They just seem to have gotten lost. I’ve been waiting for them to find me.”

“Sass,” Arden named him, not exactly placated, before giving the rest of the market behind Mattin a glance. “I see them. They’re looking for you.” If Mattin’s snappishness had amused Arden, that amusement did not last. Arden gave a nod, evidently to guards that must have spotted the king. Mattin did not envy those guards in that moment.

“The market was suddenly packed. None of us expected it,” Mattin excused them softly.

Arden’s expression didn’t change until he looked down at Mattin again. “If you won’t think of me, then think of what it would do to Mil if something happened to you.”

Mattin opened his mouth—although he had no argument against words that gutted him—then abruptly remembered Arden was in the market too, and if he had guards, Mattin didn’t see them.

“And if something happened to you?” he asked coolly, a perverse part of him enjoying Arden’s moment of surprise at being chastised. Then he wondered if it was more that Arden forgot that Mattin might worry over him too.

Or that anyone might. It was a brief thought but Mattin knew he was going to find himself sleepless over it at some point in the future. So he glanced around, not seeing that he and Arden had drawn any undue attention, then he darted forward to rest his cheek against Arden’s chest. At least he could feel leather beneath Arden’s vest and shirt. Arden had some protection.

Arden’s arms came around him, which was nice too.

“I was starting to worry,” Mattin admitted, although he hadn’t forgotten his point. “I’m glad you’re here. But why are you here?”

“Ah.” Arden said it like an embarrassed person might stumble over their answer. But Arden was rarely embarrassed about anything. “Cael is still recovering from her small illness. So are the members of the council who apparently shared their sickness with her. While I could be reading all the lovely research you did for me,” he paused when Mattin harrumphed loudly and pointedly, “I found myself with an afternoon off. And Mil said you were ‘off to do some tasks in town that please him,’ and I thought it might be a good way to spend a few free hours; seducing a pretty man I might happen to run into in the street.”

“So you snuck out,” Mattin said first without thinking, raising his head to regard Arden suspiciously. Then the rest of Arden’s words sent his mind whirling. “You what? What?” 

He had no idea why this made Arden smile, but it was such a distracting smile that Mattin couldn’t think to protest when Arden stroked the side of his face. “Seduce a pretty man I happened to run into in the street,” he said, low and warm. “One who I believe I once heard speak longingly of such a thing.” His fingertip grazed Mattin’s parted lips. “Of course, if he was not amenable to being seduced, I thought I might take him shopping. I’ve never done that, spent money extravagantly like a fool in love. When I should have, there was no need.” Outguards only needed what they could carry. “Except for good food or a night in a comfortable bed, with a hot bath for him when he was sore or especially tired. Those things I could provide then. Now… jewels, sweets, books… I could drown you in them. Both of you. But you’d have to show me the way.”

As though Mattin had ever done such a thing either. He drifted forward, catching Arden’s finger to kiss it, then recalling himself and inching back with a burning hot face.

“I….” He had no clue what to say in response to any of that. He didn’t even know his own voice. “Arden?”

“Unless that’s too wild for you, dear heart?” Arden prompted gently after several seconds of Mattin gazing at him in confused wonder.

Mattin resisted darting guilty looks around them to focus on Arden, who seemed patient and still on the surface like a palace fountain frozen in the winter. But his gaze was another matter.  

Allowing Arden to escort him through the market was the logical answer, the simplest and by far the least embarrassing, or potentially embarrassing.

“Too wild?” Mattin asked instead of whatever he ought to have asked while his hand strayed up to Arden’s collar and then to his throat to find warm skin.

Arden flashed a smile. “You did say you wanted to be ‘a little wild’ once, unless I heard you wrong.”

Mattin’s face was surely colors of red never seen outside of a sunset. He kept his gaze firmly on Arden and hoped his hood would preserve some of his dignity. He bit his lip and pretended to consider, even though Arden must know what Mattin wanted, since he took Mattin’s hand from his neck to press kisses to Mattin’s knuckles.

“What would…” Mattin lowered his voice even more “…seducing me entail exactly? Nothing too public?” Mattin was alarmingly breathless at the possibility.

“Mattin Arlylian,” Arden leaned in to pronounce the name, soft and careful, over Mattin’s ear, “that is your choice. A room if you like, or the nearest alley if you prefer.”

Mattin’s breath noisily caught in his throat and he ducked his head to wheeze and cough against Arden’s chest. “Arden,” he croaked.

As if that had told him Mattin’s choice, Arden practically purred over the top of Mattin’s head. “A room, then. Like secret, illicit lovers… though of course Mil will be delighted to hear of it.”

Mattin whined quietly but it was not an objection.

[mt-musings]

Bluebell

Chapter 53

After being abruptly transferred to the BAU at what she suspects was Gideon's request, Cassie Boann struggles to find her footing. Shy and solitary by nature, the transition is made all the more difficult when Dr. Spencer Reid seems to take an almost immediate dislike to her. Unfortunately for them both, their respective areas of expertise leave them paired off more often than not. But when Cassie's past literally starts hunting her, Spencer is forced to consider that he might, in fact, not hate her at all.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Spencer Reid x OC

Warnings: Canon typical violence, kidnapping, stalking, drug use, blood, injury, death, PTSD, eventual smut, self-harming behavior, childhood sexual abuse, more tags to be added

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

53. Territorial Pissings

She didn’t feel any better by the time she arrived at the familiar Southwest Precinct Station. She glanced around as they were shown inside by a Detective Barlowe, who led them to a conference room that had been cleared for their use. She glanced around, looking for any familiar faces—Trevor’s dad should have retired by now, but she couldn’t be sure. 

It would certainly complicate things if he hadn’t. 

She didn’t want to be there, not after the last time—they’d hauled her in kicking and screaming and she was pretty sure she bit one of the cops before they’d ever tossed her in an interview room. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to Trevor before Robert had someone sweep in and take her. She’d been on a plane to the east coast so fast then that her head had spun. 

It looked less shitty than it had fifteen years ago—it was clear the city had upped their police budget. Not that it made them any more competent, judging by the facts of the case so far. 

She’d read through the entire case file four times on the plane. The case against Trevor was circumstantial at best—they hadn’t even found enough to secure a search warrant to his apartment. Not that anyone seemed to care—had they all forgotten that the importance of the profiler was to be objective, to look at the evidence, to not fixated on one subject because they seemed the easiest to do so?

She paused as she felt a hand close on her bicep and turned to find Spencer looking concerned.

“Are you alright?”

“Just thinking. The file doesn’t quite make sense. I mean—doesn’t it seem a little, I don’t know, convenient? Why are we narrowing our pool down to one person before we even canvas? It seems like a big risk to me, especially when there’s a good chance Mandy’s still alive and out there. I mean, I know Hotch probably knows people here since he worked at the field office, but it seems strange.”

“I don’t know, I guess the locals are pretty sure.”

“So we’re just here to dig up the dirt they haven’t managed to find in the months since they discovered the first body?”

“I don’t—I don’t know, Cass. You’ll have to bring it up with Hotch. Maybe there’s something we don’t know yet that makes them so sure.”

“Maybe,” she said, though her tone made it clear how very much she doubted it. She told Hotch as much once the local detectives stepped out of the room.

“It feels lazy—I mean half of these so-called sightings were made by people who’s chases were dropped in exchange for their statements. I mean, isn’t it strange there’s no CCTV footage backing any of this up I really think it’s worth going back through and—“

“A lack of physical evidence doesn’t mean he’s innocent either,” Rossi said, raising an eyebrow.

“It does, actually in any court other than Kangaroo. I mean, if everyone’s already decided he’s the guy, why are we even here? Maybe it’s because there’s not even enough to hold him past 72 hours, never mind get a search warrant from a judge who’s ever opened a law book.”

“Listen, sweetheart, maybe you should stick to the CSI and we’ll work on the profile, alright?”

Cassie stared at him for a moment before turning to Hotch. He didn’t meet her gaze. 

“I need you to go to the morgue and examine the most recent victim,” Hotch said, nodding towards the door. She stared at him for a moment, brows furrowed before she turned on her heel. 

She went to the lab and compiled her report before asking someone to show her to the file storage. She often wished she could read as fast as Spencer, but found herself especially wishing when she saw the number of cabinets and knew how far she’d have to go back to prove her point. Still, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t gotten really good at speed-combing files since she’d started hunting through Soviet files for a trace of Hadeon. 

She opened the first drawer and began pulling files. She just needed to track down the evidence to make them believe her. 

---

He didn’t know how he knew, he just knew something was wrong. Maybe the house was too quiet—maybe Emma had seemed too quiet before going to bed, early, of her own volition. He usually had to force her, or else she fell asleep on one of her books. He thought maybe she was sick—it was almost April and everyone at school was getting one bug or another. That or she could just be trying to avoid his dad. He wasn’t usually home for dinner, whether he was working or not, but he’d made them eat ‘as a family’ and he knew she’d been on the verge of a panic attack the whole time. 

He crept upstairs to where Emma’s bedroom was, careful to avoid the creaky stair. She was probably just asleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until he checked on her. 

The door was slightly ajar and he froze, decade old panic seizing him. Emma was fast asleep, the blankets pulled off her, one arm still holding the stuffed elephant he’d dug out of his old toys to help her sleep. His dad was standing over her, eyes intent on her sleeping form. He’d pulled down her pants to expose her underwear, was tracing the scars on her thighs with a sick sort of satisfaction.

Trevor didn’t think. He just pushed into the room and grabbed the lamp off the bureau. His father had enough time to turn before he brought it down, hard, on his head. He collapsed in a heap on the ground and Trevor threw the lamp on his head before crossing to Emma and pulling up her pajamas before crushing her in a hug. He started to panic when she didn’t quite wake, her eyes only half opening. 

“Memm? Fuck, wake up. Wake up.” He was shaking, his whole body was shaking and he felt like he was going to be sick.

“‘M trying,” she slurred. He searched her face, taking in the glossy expression, the too-big pupils and putting it together with how she’d seem to crash as soon as dinner ended. His dad had prepared everyone’s plates, making them wait at the table.

He’d put something in her food.

“We’re going, okay? I’m gonna pack you a bag, you gotta try and wake up, okay Memmie? Listen to me, you gotta wake up. Try really, really hard, okay?”

She nodded, blinking rapidly. He took a deep breath and stepped over his dad, kicking him in the ribs as he went, and threw open the closet. He grabbed the duffle bag she’d come with and shoved all he could fit into it—clothes, shoes, books, the few toys she had laying about. He zippered it as much as he was able before throwing it over his shoulder and grabbing her from the bed, wrapping her blanket around her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying in to his shoulder. He took her downstairs and packed his own bag full of clothes and all the cash he had on hand and whatever else he could fit. He’d have to leave the records, but it was a small price to pay to get out. 

He carried her for four blocks before he found a phone booth. He’d ripped out the page of his notebook that had Claw’s number scribbled on it. He’d never meant to use it—he ran with a much heavier crowd and even though he was fun to hang out with and drink, he didn’t want to get mixed up in whatever he was running. 

Still, he was the only person Trevor knew that didn’t live with their parents and would never rat them out to the police, no matter what. 

He dropped in the coins and dialed, listening to it ring and ring until he was convinced no one would pick up. He was just about to hang up when a voice answered, sounding either very exhausted or very stoned. Maybe both.

“Hello?”

“Hi, um, this is Trev, I was looking for Claw?”

“Oooh the the Rat King guy, right? Yeah, gimme a second. CLAW! PHONE!”

“Hey, it’s Claw.”

“It’s Trev, um, I need a huge favor.”

“Man, you’re too young for me to sell—“

“No, no—I need somewhere to crash with my little sister. My dad—my dad was gonna hurt her so I hit him with a lamp and he might be dead, but we need a place to lay low. He’s a cop, so we’re fucked.”

“Fuck dude. Yeah, okay. Where are you? We’ll pick you up.”

Trevor gave him the address and hung up, scanning the street for oncoming traffic, for his dad’s beat up truck, for police lights. His heart was still hammering in his chest, his breathing too fast. He sat on the curb and squeezed his eyes shut, hugging Emma tighter to him as he tried to push away the flood of memories.

He’d almost been too late. 

He glanced down at her, smoothing back her hair to look at her face. She was fast asleep, her body limp, though when he checked her breathing it was normal. He smoothed his thumb over the scar on her cheek and hoped she wouldn’t remember tonight, wouldn’t have another reason to wake up screaming. 

He didn’t know what they’d do once they got to Claw’s—it wasn’t like he had a ton of money saved and he knew there would be people looking for them, people who would put Emma right back in that house with his monster of a father. He could figure it out though—he’d be eighteen in nine months and then it would be easier, by then they’d right them off as runaways. 

He just needed to focus on getting them through the next few days. 

---

Cassie walked back to the conference room, a thick stack of files in her arms. She was careful to obscure the names on the tabs, eyes peeled for any of the officers mentioned in the files. The last thing she needed to do right now was tip them off that she'd figured out why they were so insistent on pursuing their single lead, why'd they'd pulled in the FBI to legitimize and caver up the extent of what was actually happening.

“What are we doing wasting time with this, Hotch? She’s a glorified lab rat, what does she know about child abduction cases?” Rossi said, irritation plain.  “I’m sure she’s great in the lab, but the profile—“ 

Cassie stepped into the room and cleared her throat, schooling her face into something completely neutral. They’d both know that she’d heard what he’d said, but she wasn’t about to give anyone that satisfaction of an emotional reaction. She closed the door behind her to be safe, careful to keep her voice low and even and difficult for anyone passing by to overhear.

“I pulled the files of similar cases from the last few decades, I can have Dr. Reid go through them if that’s the most efficient use of time, they present a pattern that I believe excludes Boucher as a suspect and outlines something far more insidious. I also just got back the chemical analysis from the latest victim which shows a fairly nuanced use of forensic countermeasures, as I predicted, though I was able to isolate a single sample, which I’m running against VICAP. I’ll let you know if I get any hits,” she said, addressing only Hotch. He nodded.

“Hold off on the files, I want you and Reid to nail down the geographic profile as much as possible and run it against the places we know Boucher frequents.”

“Sir, I really think this deserves further investigation, it implicates—“

“Work the geographic profile for now. We’ll circle back if necessary.”

She stared at him for a moment, pursing her lips. Hotch had never cut her off like that, or disregarded what she had to say. Not until Rossi showed up. 

Still, she nodded before turning on her heel and walking back to the conference room where Spencer was working. 

“What’d he say about the files?”

“He wants you to nail down the geographic profile and figure out what overlap it has with Boucher’s routine.”

“Fair enough. Sorry, I know it’s not the angle you wanted to work.”

“I just—I’m going to get some air.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just need to cool down.”

“Okay. Just—let me know if you need anything, okay?”

She nodded, and walked back to the file room where she’d organized dozens of files, all documenting a frighteningly similar MO spanning nearly thirty years. A handful were unsolved—the ones that resulted in murder. But the rest, were the victims had survived—she’d really had to dig for them, because they’d all been dropped. Some had never been properly filed in the first place, just tucked away in the back of a file cabinet to rot. 

She was seething—of course it was easier to just go after Trevor, to follow the asinine little rabbit trail that seemed to oh-so-conveniently lead directly to him, outlined perfectly by the local-yokels. Why bother to look any deeper, to wonder why it seemed so obvious, why they’d be called in for such an obvious collar.

“I can’t wait until we can just haul Boucher in and be done with it. Fucking tired of all this federal profiling crap.”

Cassie froze. She recognized detective Meyer’s voice.

“As long as they find enough to book him,” came another voice, deeper. Detective Barlowe, then.

“We’ll make sure they find it,” Meyers replied and the pair laughed. “After that, no one will keep digging if he happens to, you know.”

Cassie’s stomach twisted. They were going to kill him. Pin it on him and kill him.

Sometimes she fucking hated being right. 

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. She waited until she was sure they’d wandered off before grabbing the stack of files and shoving them into her bag. She deposited her work laptop on the little desk in the corner of the file room and zipped everything up before taking the battery out of her cell phone, that way the last GPS ping would be at the station.

She stared at it for a long moment, knowing there wasn’t any going back. Still, if she stayed—she’d already tried to convince the rest of the team that Trevor wasn’t their unsub, had said over and over that the profile wasn’t right, that it felt like a frame job, but no one seemed to take her seriously. She doubted they’d take her seriously when she told them the department was dirty, that she’d heard Barlowe and Meyers laughing about planting evidence. Doubted even more they’d believe they were planning to murk him.

It was the same shit she’d had to put up with the last six years with her own case—how many time had she been brushed off for her ‘crackpot theories,’ how many reprocessing requests had been denied, how many requests to officially re-open the case had been all but laughed out of the higher ups offices? She was tired of it, tired of shitty police work, tired of negligence and apathy and downright sabotage. 

That was why she’d joined the FBI, after all—because no one gave enough of a shit to even attempt to solve her case. Because if she didn’t do it, no one would. Because she’d do the right thing, she’d always do the right thing—that was what she’d promised herself. It was why she first ended up in the Smithsonian lab, running samples the regular lab wouldn’t, doing basic evidentiary due diligence. It had started off with her parents’ case of course, but there were so many others that had been shunted to similar statuses, enough that she’d created her referral system, her work-around to circumvent unit chiefs that couldn’t think out of the box.

She didn’t have one of the highest solve rates in CASMIRC from fucking around and holding to methods and theories she knew didn’t work. No, she’d only invented an entirely new method to identifying remains, for widening the pool of reference, for turning dead ends into new leads. 

But then again, she was only a ‘glorified lab rat.’

And as long as she didn’t end up with a felony charge, she had a job waiting for whenever she wanted doing just that—Dr. Garvey would be thrilled. And it wasn’t as if the FBI had gotten her much closer to Hadeon. Sure, she had access to VICAP and files of possible suspects or more crimes, but the only true breakthrough she’d managed was because of her research in the lab. 

She hesitated for a moment, thinking of Spencer in the other room, diligently working on tracking down an innocent man whom he thought to be the obvious killer. She could tell him what she was about to do, tell him that she was going to walk away from it all. He’d try to talk her out of it, someone might hear, and then he’d either have to tell Hotch her plan and possibly give away any surprise advantage she might have had, or he’d have to lie and be made complicit.

It wasn’t fair to him, either way. Not when there was no chance he’d change her mind. She tried not to think about how her walking out without a word would gut him, how it would bring up all the awful memories of Gideon and his father, how he’d specifically asked her not to. 

She wasn’t leaving, not really. It would be a few days at most, a few days to put it all together, to find that little girl instead of wasting her time like everyone else on a wild goose chase. She wasn’t going to waste her time being hamstringed by protocol when she had a chance of preventing another death by doing what she knew was right.

Two, if she could manage it.

She scribbled a note, tucking it into Spencer’s cardigan pocket, which he’d left slung over a chair in the bullpen. She hoped it would be enough for him to understand.

She walked out of the station, bag slung over one shoulder. She didn’t look back, just kept walking until she was half a dozen blocks away, until she’d walked too far to turn back. This, at least, she could do. 

She could disappear. 

Previous Next

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Baying Dogs (Rewrite); Chapter Two: Liar! Liar!

Another chapter, yay! Here, Dougs is starting to organise her thoughts. However, she gets a bit sidetracked when she's pulled into an interesting version of a classic card game the boys have created.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injury and strong language!

Word count: 3,532

Ghost leant over a little to see what Dougs was up to. She had been scribbling away in that notepad for quite a while now and he was starting to get curious. From what he could see, it looked like a table of sorts, split into three columns and five rows. However, thanks to her abysmal handwriting, he couldn’t tell what they meant.

She’s up to something.

Dougs chewed on her pen as she pondered on the table she had just drawn. She had put down each person, including Gaz, as potential suspects and now she needed to deduce their ‘motive’ and ‘opportunity’.

‘Motive’ was something which she couldn’t really fathom… Weir’s death was an act of betrayal if one of them was responsible and these guys had a reputation for being as loyal as dogs.

As for ‘opportunity’… Dougs’ eyes narrowed. She needed to get a picture of where everyone was on the night of the murder, which meant she needed to talk to people.

Each person here was perfectly capable of ambushing from the canteen, which she was almost certain was where the attack had come from, who it was would be a matter of time and place.

The injuries sustained were similar to the ones they all had received from the so-called Bleidd-ddynion: the ones who were guarding the ‘mission objective’ which was a treasured bundle of manila files that sat in the corner of the medical room. Price had plonked it there hoping people wouldn’t be tempted to meddle with it: a sort of ‘out of sight, out of mind’ -type solution. Dougs wondered why he didn’t think she’d be tempted, basically being confronted with that pile of beige folders almost every waking hour, but she supposed it was due to him assuming the doctor would have enough self-discipline to not give in.

Hence, it seemed now, the Bleidd-ddynion were the culprits but they weren’t on her suspect list.

Gaz had mentioned howling and two-legged dogmen which sounded a little too fanciful to be anything substantial unless…

The casefiles might provide some context on the Bleidd-ddynion and their tactics.

Dougs still had her eyes on everyone else, but she knew she couldn’t jump to conclusions, not just yet. Her gut told her it was someone here, but she had no evidence apart from the fact that an enemy couldn’t get here without someone sounding the alarm.

These guys were skilled, and it would be foolish to underestimate them.

Or cross them.

Don’t trust them. Even if they haven’t committed the crime, still don’t trust them.

Best to keep things professional. Put on a friendly front.

As for the casefiles, she needed to see what was in them. Orders were orders, though. They were all instructed not to touch them under any circumstances.

Her eyes narrowed.

No one needed to know.

She closed her notepad and tucked it away into her pocket, letting out a yawn.

Nature clearly didn’t want her getting sleepy, however.

Dougs suddenly whipped her head around at a strange sound. It was distant, but unmistakeable. Almost like a lamentation, it rasped out a little at the end, but picked up for a new cycle of wails.

“Is that howling?” She rose from her reclined position, looking in the direction of the sound.

“Baying.”

The medic turned around to Ghost.

“That’s baying.” He repeated, not bothering to dart his head about like Dougs.

“Baying?”

“Yeah. Not quite howling. Not quite barking. Dogs usually do it when they’ve found something they want others to see. Not surprised a farm dog would be baying at this hour, probably saw a fox or something.”

“Are you sure it’s a farm dog?”

Ghost scoffed at the worried look on her face.

“What else is it gonna be? Wolves?”

She shrugged, drawing her knees to her chest.

“I saw you talking to Gaz earlier at dinner.” Ghost continued, “Is he still harping on about the attack being animals?”

She shook her head.

“No. He doesn’t think it was animals anymore.” Dougs half-lied.

“Glad he’s getting with the program.” Ghost remarked as he inspected his assault rifle, “The last thing we want is infighting on who done it. Keeping alive until transport arrives is our objective, let’s focus on that.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, “Yeah.”

Dougs looked off to the side, hearing the hound’s baying once more.

A thought sprung up and began to gnaw at her.

Gaz thinks it’s someone here… does anyone else?

“Do you think the Bleidd-ddynion somehow managed to follow you guys here?” Dougs asked, shyly.

“I doubt it. It wouldn’t make sense. They’re an amateur militia and they couldn’t even conduct a successful ambush on a group who’s less than half in numbers. Why bother? Especially when we’re on a civilian’s land.”

Ghost’s reply was awfully blunt.

Dougs chuckled as she stared off into the distance, deciding to study the jagged wall of trees lining the horizon.

 “It seems like half of Ashdown Forest is made of a lot of farmland… doesn’t really make it much of a forest.”

The lieutenant shrugged, “Suppose it doesn’t.”

“Is it someone here, then? Did someone here kill Weir?” She looked up at him.

“Whoever it is, they’ll be found out eventually. We just have to protect ourselves from them. Best to watch your six, kid.”

Dougs felt a small shudder creep up her spine.

It really could be any of them. 

Before her mind could spiral into the if’s, who’s and why’s, Ghost’s rumbling voice cut through her thoughts like a well-sharpened knife.

“By the way… I have to say, you are quite the sewer. I’ve never had a medic patch me up so fast.”

Dougs smiled, “Well, you know. I’m good with me hands, I guess.”

Riley paused and slowly looked at her.

“Oh God… that came out wrong. I meant… uh… Let’s just forget I said that. Thanks for admiring my… handiwork.”

She wanted to slap herself.

Even though he didn’t make a sound, Ghost deep down was chuckling away. He couldn’t help but let a small grin creep onto his face under that mask, shaking his head as the sounds of the night filled their awkward silence.

***

Usually, in quite a few crime dramas, the detective goes back to the scene of the crime with the hopes of getting a moment of clarity.

She decided to put that theory to the test, hurrying off to the cursed place whilst everyone was still finishing breakfast. Price didn’t even have the opportunity to ask her how she felt after her night with supposedly the scariest man on the team. Ghost had said that nothing much had happened, that she was nice enough. That lieutenant hardly gave sufficient detail, only when it was needed, hence the captain wanted to hear how Dougs was doing from Dougs’ mouth.

Price had just missed her as she slunk past Soap and a handful of pots, disappearing down the corridor. The man could only stand at the doorway and sigh.

She was up to something.

Dougs stared blankly at what remained of the doorway to the forgotten canteen... where Weir had been slaughtered where she stood. Her blood had left its mark, faint wine stains clinging to the concrete, desperate to be part of this place's memory.

She swallowed down the rising bile. Kneeling down before the exact spot where they had found her body, she squinted a little, hoping to find some distortion in the bricks and stone... hoping for indication of struggle. She could work with anything here. Anything!

Give me a sign, come on.

It was daylight now and whilst there was a dismal overcast accompanied by a humid fog, Dougs could see well enough to spot something. All she needed was something to point her in the right direction. Weir had looked like she had died fighting and the medic hoped she would find that on the concrete floor.

I can't be here all day... I'm needed, you know!

Eventually, after almost boring holes into the scenery, it gave way. Dougs finally found something to confirm the struggle.

Scratches.

It started almost right under her feet, concentrating in number across from her, in the corner.

These were bizarre, they were thick in the middle before tapering off at the end. Definitely like claw marks, though they were also surprisingly precise.

There was intent here.

There was pattern.

She began nibbling at her pen again as she wondered what to make of this discovery.

Again, she was toeing between animal and human.

It seems she had no choice but to put Gaz's theory in the lead.

Werewolves! She scoffed, Never thought I’d see the day.

Especially when Dougs realised the number of claws belonging to each hand.

The woman counted five lines to each bout of scratches.

Five lines.

Five claws.

Five fingers.

Quickly, Dougs sketched out the empty crime scene before her. She drew the corner, the cracks in the concrete and then the claws. The way they were spread was interesting, with the one sitting furthest from the rest on what was left of the doorway, like whoever was responsible for these had leant on it, needed it for support.

Hmmm.

Injured. The killer was wounded.

She could see faint red on the wood too, followed by more bits of red, leading into the hazardous ruins.

Why would you make your escape there?

Sure, it was the quickest way to get to a place without a roof, but it was the slowest by means of actually leaving the site.

Was there thought put into this? Was this just impulsive? What… does this mean?

As Dougs was about to doodle down a potential figure to fit the scene, a droplet of water landed on her page. It made her ink bleed a little into the parchment.

She rubbed away the spot of rain... only for something wet to land on her shoulder. Then, on her nose. Then, on her page again. It got more and more frequent.

She looked up to see the sky was ready to open the heavens onto her, rain using every gap it could find in the torn-up roof to pelt her with icy droplets.

The woman retreated, keeping her notepad close to her chest as she made for a more sheltered part of the building.

Flurried feet found themselves at the barracks.

Price looked up at the sound of her entrance, surprised.

Dougs froze as she stood before them at the threshold. Price, Soap, Ghost and Graves had made a circle, huddled around a pile of playing cards.

"Were you just out in the rain?" The captain asked, taking his cigar out his mouth.

"Yeah." She chuckled, wiping the water off her face with the back of her hand.

"Aren't you cold, love?"

'A bit."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What were you doing?"

"... Birdwatching."

"Birdwatching?" Soap turned around, looking mighty confused.

"Yep."

"What birds did you see?" Price asked, genuinely curious.

Shit.

"Err..." She looked around as she tried to conjure up an answer.

They had all swivelled round to face her now.

"Chiffchaff?"

"Are you asking or telling me?" Price's eyes narrowed.

"Telling."

"Right..."

He didn't believe her for a second, but he couldn't be bothered to try and wrap his head around as to why she'd want to go out into the freezing winter rain.

Whatever strange habits or rituals she had; he didn't care. Price just hoped she wouldn't catch a cold. The last thing they needed was an out-of-commission medic thanks to a sodding cold.

“Well,” Price got up from his seat, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually.”

Her heart fluttered a little, but she endeavoured to remain composed.

“What about, sir?”

He beckoned her with a finger to follow him to the medical room next door, where they could get a bit of privacy.

Only, upon rounding to enter via the doorway, Price found Gaz sitting on the examination bed, looking just as surprised as him.

“Uh… Price, what are you-”

“Gaz, the boys are playing Cheat next door. Why don’t you join them?”

Briefly, he and Dougs exchanged glances before Gaz decided it was best to just hop off the bed and take his leave.

Price leant against the wall; head tilted to one side as he wondered why Dougs looked so pallid. She fiddled with a braid, hoping that he would cut to the chase.

“How did last night go?”

Oh.

“Fine.” She said, letting out a small, shaky chuckle.

“Good.” Price nodded, “Ghost said you were alright.”

“He’s not too bad himself.” Dougs’ face relaxed a little.

“The man’s all bark and no bite. You don’t need to worry about him unless you get on his nerves. But I’m sure you won’t.”

“I’m not really a ‘fuck around and find out’-type person.” She laughed.

Price let out a breathy chuckle, “Didn’t think you were. Medics just usually want to do their job. And, judging by you springing into action when Weir hauled us back here, you seem to fit that stereotype, which ain’t a bad one.”

“No, it ain’t.” Dougs supposed.

Price gave a soft smile, lighter strands in his mutton chops occasionally catching the light.

“Well, why don’t you join us, eh? Give you an opportunity to keep an eye on us. And, also, get you out of the way of that leak up there.”

Dougs turned around, following his arm to where the man was pointing. In a thankfully empty corner, water had begun trickling down.

“Great. That’s just what you need in a medical room.” She sighed as she turned back to face him, “Have we got any spare pots we can use to catch the water?”

“Probably.” Price said, as he began to turn around to walk back to the barracks.

Then, he paused.

“You know how to play Cheat, right?” He asked.

Dougs nodded and followed him.

“Well, we do it a bit differently. You’ll see how it works.”

***

“Cheat!” Soap shouted, pointing at Graves.

He had a mischievous smile on his face as he waited for the man to reveal his played cards. Reluctantly, Graves turned them around.

The room was filled with ‘ooh’s and ‘ah’s as Soap revelled in his victory.

“Alright! Alright!” Graves quietened everyone down, “Look, here ya go. It wasn’t in fact two Kings.”

MacTavish, clearly smug that this was the third person he had eliminated, chuckled to himself.

“Fucking knew it.”

Now, the circle was down to Soap, Ghost and Gaz.

Dougs had been eliminated after Price, with Soap somehow knowing that she didn’t have an ace in her pile at all.

The man was almost psychic when it came to these card games. Well, according to Price he was anyways, who watched on, sitting next to Dougs, hollering from the side lines. She chuckled as she watched each man eye each other like this was some shootout waiting to happen in a spaghetti western: eyes were narrow, jaws clenched, cards gripped tightly in fingers.

“Three tens.” Soap announced, placing three cards down.

A silence fell upon the three remaining men.

Were they going to let this slide?

Soap had already played ‘three tens’ in a previous turn.

Ghost and Gaz looked at each other.

Whilst Lt. Riley seemed indifferent, thanks to the skull mask hiding his expression, his body language also gave off this relaxed vibe.

Dougs knew he wasn’t going to call it.

Gaz, on the other hand, seemed to be in two minds about this. It was clear he had picked up on the pattern, that Soap had already played those cards… allegedly. Now, it was just a flip of the coin to see if he was bluffing now or he had bluffed then. Gaz chewed on the inside of his cheek, jaw feathering as he looked at his cards and then back at Soap.

The Scotsman leaned forward, resting his chin on his free hand as he smiled.

Oh, did Gaz just want to smack that derisive grin off his face!

After giving it another minute of deliberation, Gaz took in a deep breath and made up his mind.

“Cheat.”

Soap leaned back and revealed his cards.

Three tens.

“And Sergeant Garrick is out of the running!” Price announced, putting on a sports commentator’s voice.

The lad came and sat beside Dougs, letting out a defeated sigh.

“Dick.” He grumbled, watching her chortle.

“Well, you did better than me.” Dougs noted as a way of offering some consolation.

“He always wins this,” Gaz groaned, “Always.”

It was now between Ghost and Soap.

It was like they were circling each other, Soap on the verge of springing out of his seat as he waited with bated breath. His eyes were fixed on Ghost, hoping to garner something from that blank visage. The man across from MacTavish let out a small huff.

It came down like a crashing wave. Two cards.

“Two fives.”

Soap looked him up and down.

He let it slide.

Now, in this version of the game it was either one of the two men managed to get rid of all their cards or the other blundered. Each man’s success hinged on the other’s failure.

“I never played this version.” Dougs whispered to Gaz as they all watched the showdown ensue, “Usually, if you get caught or you make an incorrect accusation you just pick up cards from the discard pile.”

“This version is much more interesting,” Price chimed in, “Graves found it unusual at first too. Didn’t ya, Phil?”

“Yep. Thought it was some British version… soon realised it was just the ‘141 Special’!”

Dougs chuckled.

Gaz leaned in, “So, do you think he’s gonna bluff?”

He nodded to Soap, who was looking at his two remaining cards.

She leaned back a little, resting her head against the bedframe behind her. She tapped her chin, pondering. Eventually, she answered.

“He’s gonna bluff.”

Gaz was taken aback.

“You seem confident.”

“The man has a pattern.” Dougs whispered, her voice almost inaudible, “Sure, he’s good at sussing out everyone else’s patterns, but he’s got his own too. He alternates between truthing and bluffing.”

“Oh really?”

She nodded, “He got Price out because Price goes from bluffing to truthing. Then, he got me out because I was constantly truthing, got confident and then lied. I usually keep my eyes on my cards, but when I lied, I looked up. Mistake on my part, should’ve just kept my head down. Graves is a little more random, but he was too quick to place down those cards, like he wanted to slip under the radar.”

The captain turned to face her.

“You’re a little detective, aren’t you?”

She shrugged, “Suppose I am.”

Gaz chuckled, shaking his head.

“Jack and a Two.”

It was like the world had come to a standstill, the whole room watching as Ghost mused on what to say. He titled his head to one side, shifting a little where he sat. He sniffed, scratching the back of his neck as the man stared down Soap.

The losers behind them were on the edge of their seats.

“Cheat.”

MacTavish’s face fell, and with great reluctance, he revealed a pair of Sixes.

And thus, Ghost was crowned the victor.

Unfortunately, the moment of victory couldn’t last.

As Price and Soap were congratulating Ghost, Dougs joining in on the merriment… she realised someone was calling out her name.

“Er… Dougs.” Gaz tapped her shoulder, “Dougs!”

She turned around, looking at Gaz, confused.

Only to see Gaz was fine.

Then, he pointed to Graves. He was cradling his hand, hissing in pain. She knelt before him.

“I’m assuming it’s your hand?” She gestured for him to show her.

“Yeah.” He chuckled dryly, “It just… happened all of a sudden.”

Dougs looked over to see something she really didn’t expect.

A strange rash had appeared around his wedding band on his ring finger, spreading to the pinkie and middle finger. Red and raw, the skin splitting. Small cuts pooled with blood. It was like an adverse allergic reaction, completely concentrated around the ring.

“What on Earth…” She looked up at him, “Your throat doesn’t feel like it’s swelling, does it? Do you feel like you can breathe?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

He didn’t sound wheezy.

Nor did he look to be having any other symptoms of an allergic reaction, or its more extreme form: anaphylaxis.

“Let’s get that ring off.” She then turned to the boys behind her, who had begun crowding, “Can one of you bring my med kit!”

Soap volunteered and darted off.

Price peered over her shoulder and winced at the situation on Graves’ hand.

“What’s happening?”

“It looks like Graves is having a reaction to the ring, more specifically what the ring’s made of. Well, his skin is anyways. See how it’s localised?” She drew a circled above the area with her finger, “Is it itching, sir?”

She looked back up to the Commander.

“No,” he said before sucking the air through clenched teeth, “but it burns.”

“Out of curiosity,” Gaz thought aloud, “what is your ring made out of?”

“Silver. Why?”

“Nothing.”

Gaz and Dougs exchanged glances once more.

[fardell24b]

Spider Quinn 12 Rise of the Green Goblin - Part 5

Half an hour after leaving home, the Enigma arrived in the vicinity of the Historia. She remembered her conversation with Daria after the opening. ‘Is Jane SpiderGirl?’ she wondered. ‘Or she could be one of the other two?’ She wasn’t sure. ‘I’ll continue as I have been with the Sophomores. I’ll find her eventually.

Suddenly, there was a sound nearby. She turned, her hands aglow with her powers. A stray cat came out of an allyway. ‘But there was something else,’ she thought. She looked down the street and saw that a window had been smashed in. ‘On it!’ she thought as she ran as quietly as she could.

“Quickly, before SpiderGirl comes!” one of the thieves said.

The other two thieves came over to the window with their misbegotten wares. “She’s just one person.”

They exited through the window they have smashed. “Stop right there!” came a voice.

They looked and saw a dark figure against the glare of the street lights. Suddenly, their misbegotten wares were yanked out their hands by a strong invisible force and returned into the store through the window.

“Who are you,” one of the thieves asked in fear.

“I am the Enigma,” the feminine voice said quietly. “Now, like, make yourselves scarce. You don’t want to face my other power and what it might do to you.”

The thieves with their hearts pounding then ran off down the street.

The Enigma looked at the broken window of the store. There was no way she would be able to piece it back together. She made herself scarce as a police siren made itself known in the distance.

Officer Xanthe Peterson looked at the scene. The window had been broken and merchandise strewn all over the place. “It looks like the thieves were interrupted in action,” she said.

“By SpiderGirl?” one of her colleagues asked.

“I don’t think so. There are no webs and she usually leaves the suspects webbed up for capture,” Peterson answered.

“Oh.”

“It could have been Ninja Talon or the other one.”

The Enigma continued down the street, looking for things that indicated that something would go down. It was deserted. She heard something down one of the side streets and looked. She saw that there was a store alight there. ‘Not much I can do,’ she thought. ‘But I’ll see if people need rescuing or if SpiderGirl will respond.’

The Enigma saw that the Fire Brigade had already responded. ‘Of course. I’ll head home. I stopped some thieves, that’s good enough for a first night.’

She arrived back at 512 Grandstaff Drive half an hour later. ‘It was a good first night,’ she thought, thinking of how she had thwarted the thieves.

At the same time, Ninja Talon arrived at the scene of the fire. The Fire Brigade had done their job. She saw Officer Peterson nearby.

“Ninja Talon,” the officer acknowledged.

“Any idea what happened here?

“Arson,” Peterson answered. “Any evidence of who it was lost in the blaze. Whoever it was made themselves scarce before the fire brigade arrived.”

“Oh.”

“Did you intervene at a shop break and enter earlier tonight?”

“I didn’t,” Ninja Talon answered. “It wasn’t SpiderGirl?”

“No webs and she leaves suspects webbed up.”

“Oh, of course. The Shadow then.”

“I haven’t met her yet,” Peterson confessed.

“She helped SpiderGirl and I a lot last week when we infiltrated that compound and rescued Sarah Robyn.”

“That’s good. But if it’s not you, not SpiderGirl and if it’s not the Shadow as you say, that would mean there’s a fourth.”

“There’s no proof of that,” Ninja Talon said.

“No, there isn’t.”

“If nothing else. I’ll keep an eye out tonight and other nights.”

“That would be good.”

Ninja Talon looked into the store briefly before leaving silently. She wondered if there was another vigilante hero out there.

SpiderGirl awoke at the now usual early hour. She climbed out onto the roof and listened to Lawndale. ‘Something’s a little… discordant,’ she thought. It was as if something had changed. “But what and where is it?” she murmured. She listened a while longer, trying to narrow it down. ‘Downtown? Or is it Lawndale in general?’ She then swung away, eyes closed, using her intuition to guide her.

She landed at the spot and opened her eyes. She saw a store that had been broken into and police tape around it. ‘I missed this, tonight,’ she thought. But how was it responsible for the discord? She wasn’t sure. She looked around and saw that it wasn’t far from the Historia. She went up to the old theatre and saw that the Art Deco building was untouched. ‘I’ll find Ninja Talon.’ She headed to the bridge where they found out each other’s secret identities.

Ninja Talon saw SpiderGirl arrive. “I was talking to Peterson earlier,” she said.

“About that shop that was broken into?” SpiderGirl asked.

“Yes, she said someone interfered in the robbery, and she knows it’s not me and it’s not you.”

“But that would leave the Shadow.”

“She thinks there’s a fourth, and I do to,” Ninja Talon said.

“A fourth vigilante hero. That would explain the discord.”

“Huh?”

“You know I spend time listening to Lawndale at night,” SpiderGirl answered. “Tonight there was a discord. And in the evening and last evening my Spider Sense tingled briefly at a low volume. I know there’s someone out there trying to find out who I am.”

“I’m here with you.”

“Thanks.”

They sat there for a while in silence, contemplating the changes in Lawndale over the past few months. It seemed to SpiderGirl that the real changes were yet to come.

Norman Osborn awoke. It was that dream again. The one where a presence whispered terrible things to him. It was getting worse, despite his many secret visits to a counsellor he had hired. He got out of bed and went over to where he had placed the glider blueprints. ‘I won’t use it for what the whispers say!’ he thought, not entirely convinced. He tried to get back to sleep.

Lawndale Sun-Herald

Wednesday, January 31, 2001

Council Divided Over Controversial Proposal

A contentious vote on allowing an unnamed organisation access to Lawndale’s Municipal CCTV footage passed with one vote yesterday after a tumultuous session of the City Council.

‘Unnamed?’ SpiderGirl asked herself. ‘It’s likely to be Oscorp!’ Was Osborn the one seeking her identity? ‘No, it’s someone else,’ she concluded. She looked through the rest of the newspaper, but she knew that the interrupted robbery had occurred after it had gone to press. She then placed it back on the stand and continued towards the school.

Sandi awoke and looked at the time. “Oops!” she said as she leapt out of bed. She had forgotten to set her alarm after she had come back from her first foray as the Enigma. She looked around the room, making sure that she had packed away the purple clothes she had worn. She then got dressed and raced out.

“Sandi, you need breakfast!” Linda said. She suspected that her daughter had snuck out in the middle of the night, whether to confront SpiderGirl or not, but she didn’t have proof. ‘I’ll talk to her tonight as she practices.’

Jane arrived at school to see Daria waiting. She had gone by the store that had been broken into, as Max had called Trent about it when he had seen it. She knew that she hadn’t interfered, and she knew of SpiderGirl’s habit of leaving suspects webbed up. ‘So, it has to be Ninja Talon, right?’ she asked herself again. A fourth vigilante in Lawndale seemed a bit much to her. ‘But I can’t rule it out.’

“Jane?” Daria asked.

“Just thinking about my project,” she responded. She then noticed something different about Daria. Her bangs were held to the sides by plain hairclips. “You’re a little different. I didn’t expect that.”

“I figured that I better get the clips as soon as possible,” Daria responded.

“You mentioned Quinn trimming it, but not clips.”

“I guess I didn’t.”

Sandi got to school just in time for the bell to ring for Homeroom. ‘I’ll have to make sure I set my alarm.’

“Changes,” Jane murmured as she and Daria sat on the roof during study hall.

“What was that?” Daria asked.

“Changes. Lawndale is changing. Now you’re changing,” Jane clarified.

“I may be growing my hair, but I’m still the same Daria. Still sarcastic and cynical of the world around me, including of whether SpiderGirl is actually making a difference.”

“What about last week?”

“SHIELD would still have done something,” Daria answered.

“Probably. It’s the Historia that will make a difference.”

“But that will take time.”

“I know.”

Quinn entered the Library to find Anna and Ben already there. ‘I don’t think either of them are the new vigilante,’ she thought.

“Quinn!” Anna said as she came up to the duo. “I have found out more about the standing stones.”

“That’s great.”

“Including the specific Irish stonemasons who worked on them,” Anna added enthusiastically.

“What’s this about stonemasons?” Gerald asked as he came up.

“The people who put the standing stones in place,” Anna answered.

“Oh, of course,” Gerald responded.

Anna took out a book. “This was in the town library.”

“A History of Irish Immigration to Carter County,” Quinn read. “Carter County?”

“Yeah, Lawndale County was renamed from Carter County over a decade ago,” Anna answered. “It is still sometimes referred to that way.”

“Oh,” Quinn said.

“Because Lawndale is the largest town in the county?” Ben asked.

“Probably,” Anna said.

“Anyway. Let’s, look at the original idea,” Quinn suggested.

“Sure,” Anna said as she turned to table of contents.

And so, for the next half hour they took turns reading from the book, including Gerald, who still had issues with projecting his voice.

“I could look for someone to help you,” Quinn said to Gerald after the other two had left.

“You don’t have to.”

“It would be part of what Ms. Li asked me to do.”

“And you’re going above and beyond,” Gerald said.

“I know. Maybe I’ll ask Mr. O’Neill about it tomorrow.”

She then left the school as SpiderGirl, patrolling for an hour and a half before arriving at the Historia for her first shift.

“Quinn!” Elizabeth Rowe said, as the younger Morgendorffer girl appeared in the café.

“Hi, Mrs. Rowe.”

“How’s your mother? I haven’t heard from her since before the holidays.”

“Oh, she’s busy, but I’ll tell her you asked when I get home.”

“Thanks.”

While Quinn was talking to Stacy’s mother, Daria arrived home. She went up to her room and looked in the mirror in her closet. ‘I am changing,’ she thought as she glanced at the hairclips. It wasn’t just that, or the decision to grow out her hair. It was indeed the absence of her father, affecting her more than she thought. It wasn’t only Quinn who was changing due to grief, she was as well. She took a deep breath and closed the closet. ‘I’ll take it each day as it comes,’ she thought. She also decided to talk to Jane about it the next day.

The Griffin’s dinner was awkward as the five of them ate, with only Sam and Chris talking about their day at school. “And the teacher said that my design was impractical!” Sam said.

“What design was this again?” Linda asked.

“For a slide in the playground,” Sam answered.

“That takes up most of the playground?” Sandi guessed quietly.

“That’s the whole idea of it!” Sam said.

“Sam, try to start small,” Linda said.

“I did start small. Having a slide cover all of Lawndale is too much,” Sam said.

“Was that your first idea?” Chris asked.

“Yes,” Sam answered.

“Sounds good,” Chris said.

Linda and Sandi both sighed.

As Sandi turned to go up to her room after her father and brothers had made themselves scarce, her mother called out to her. “Sandi! We need to talk.”

“Yes?”

“I know you sneaked out last night and I don’t have proof. But there are rumors of a fourth vigilante.”

“I am using my powers responsibly,” Sandi countered quietly.

“So, you did!” Linda said.

“Maybe.”

“But, there is still the fact that you want to confront SpiderGirl!”

“And maybe Lawndale needs a new hero,” Sandi said.

“And you think I haven’t been tempted to go out and use my abilities to fight crime? Especially after SpiderGirl appeared? And now this Ninja Talon and the shadowy one? I don’t want to bring danger to this family. Think about that, Sandi, please.”

“I don’t think SpiderGirl will trace me here.”

“She might when you find her identity and I know you will,” Linda said.

“I will be ready and I’m sure you will be too.”

Linda sighed, knowing that she wasn’t getting anywhere with her daughter. She saw her grab an energy drink from the fridge. “That may give you a boost, but it’s not exactly healthy.”

“What do you use?”

“Potato salad.”

Sandi entered her room and opened the yearbook again. Next after Robyn Allen was Erin Archer, another short haired blonde, although hers was slightly longer and curlier than Elly Aitkins’.

She looked at the energy drink. ‘Potato Salad would take longer to eat!’ she thought. She then downed it. “Finndu mann sem heitir: Erin Archer!”

Her perception again spread out across Lawndale. Erin Archer was found close to the Historia, heading towards it.

“Three down.”

“Quinn?” Mrs. Rowe asked.

“Something,” Quinn said, noting the third low tingle of her Spider Sense.

“Are you OK?”

“Yes.”

“Good, you just looked out of it for a second,” Mrs. Rowe said with concern.

“Stress: school, social life, here and I miss Daddy.”

“Of course. You can talk to me about that at some time, if you want to.”

“That would be great!” Quinn responded.

Sandi practiced again and noticed that she was getting better at aiming her shots.

[wrongeddeadthenevermourned]

Dani nods her head, then urgently knocks it toward the car "Great. Let's go." She orders again. Rushing to the car with the other woman she gets in deftly and starts it up.

"It really wasn't that hard." Having Azalia along for it, or whatever just happened, really made the difference. Gil didn't have much to say in response however, just that she needed to get to the precinct." Dani rolls her eyes at Azalia's only including herself as she turns onto another street.

Arriving at the precinct some minutes later she jerks into the break quickly, making sure to send them both sliding forward a bit. She then quickly got out and walked around the car waiting for Azalia to go ahead of her. There was no place safer than the precinct right now, for her. If she was indeed the next target.

Taking her seat in the room, Dani watched in slight irritation as Azalia came in and presented the evidence, which had solved the entire mystery. She wondered how many had to die for that. But kept her mouth shut, for now.

Malcolm tilt his head, looking at the evidence that Azalia was presenting to them. His eyes narrowing down on the items as Azalia was talking about about why Aiden, her ex, had been thinking when he was posing the corpse and her assumption of getting close to him "Aah."

Quirking an eyebrow at the comment of Aiden being at the house when they went to it, he looked toward Gil, who was already looking at him. Then toward Dani, listening to her shift, and tap a finger absently on the table, sitting back as she had, he could read the irritation on her face.

Then Dani sat up "I didn't say that. I suspected he might have been. We don't know that's the case." She defined, not wanting to be caught up in too many hypotheticals as it were. Then she got up and headed out of the room.

Gil sighs "Well start preparing the others while you're out there." Gil ordered the others before looking at Azalia "What you did was very dangerous Azalia. But now that we are all here, we can get into the protocol for all of this." Gil shook his head and left the room then "JT, come help get everyone ready for anything this guy might be planning to do."

Malcolm remained quiet for a little while longer while he was still observing the evidence and going over just what had been going on in his head. He was quiet for nearly thirty or so minutes after the others had left, contemplating the crime over in his head. Then he reached over to grab the picture "Don't worry about it too much, they're just worried. They're a little rough when they get worried about people they like. They're like that with me all the time." Malcolm then assured, turning the picture over between his fingers and looking at Azalia.

Before he continue saying something though the building shook and it was like a large bomb had gone of near it in the next moments.

Azalia took a deep breath, gathering herself. "You're right, let's go," she said softly, her voice determined. But her words were interrupted by a sudden noise from upstairs. "Go, Dani," she whispered, motioning for her friend to move quickly. Azalia swung open the door and sprinted towards the car, wasting no time before jumping in and speeding away.

As they raced towards safety, Azalia reached for her phone and dialed her father's number. "We've figured it out. Well, I have. Meet us at the precinct," she informed him, her voice filled with urgency.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the precinct. Azalia turned to Dani, her tone filled with a mix of regret and concern. "I know, okay? It was a reckless move. But you're alive, and that's what matters," she admitted, her eyes reflecting her guilt.

Realizing the gravity of their situation, Azalia's determination grew stronger. She walked into the room, laying down a photograph on the table. "Remember this?" she asked, her voice tinged with sadness. She then approached the whiteboard, picking up a picture of the lifeless girl with the dress beside her.

"He posed her, meticulously. But why? Because we're getting closer to finding him," Azalia explained, her voice barely above a whisper. She placed another photo on the board, showing her and Aiden together.

"He was at the house when we went there."

She sighed taking a minute to breath remembering how “happy” she was that night