#declan graves | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uranometrias · 9 months ago

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✮ꜜ : ❛ you're still a traitor : criminal minds x fem! reader [ pt. 1 ]

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader (unrequited) | spencer reid x bau! reader | s7 team x bau! reader (platonic)

summary: being in love with your boss was hard. especially when there were so many factors surrounding you that made the possibility of being with him, out of the question. for starters, there was your age gap, and hotch was a stickler with baggage that he couldn't quite disclose to you. hotch was a fantasy, always out of your grasp, that is until emily dies. in the four months that followed emily's death at the hands of ian doyle, you found yourself living a life that you'd only ever dreamed about. hotch was careful, but the proof was right in front of your face as he went out of his way to care for you while you grieved. how stupid of you not to realize something was horribly wrong. but now emily was back, and hotch was back from reassignment in pakistan, and you were all on trial, and absolutely nothing makes sense except for the bitter understanding that you were a pawn in a game that in so few words was "way bigger than you." but at least you had spence.

content warnings: this is literally a barrel of angst. reader breaks the skin of her palms with her nails. mentions of slight! anxiety. follows the plot of "it takes a village" aka the iconic "this is calm, and it's doctor" episode. flashbacks x present day! spencer has been crushing on reader for as long as she's been crushing on hotch. hotch is NOT romantically interested in reader. slight! hotchniss vibes (but that's up to your interpretation. jj x reader angst! reader does not react to emily's return well. mentions of unit transfer / bureau resignation. spencer confesses to reader... open ending making room for a part 2! heartbreak, drinking, crying. best friend! penelope garcia + derek morgan. reader has a sister & niece.

read part two right here.

Your leg shakes violently as you sat just outside the court room, hands balled into tight fists as your nails press deep into the callousing skin of your palms. You couldn't say you were nervous, as far as the previous case was concerned you'd done everything you could to save Declan. You'd take whatever suspension they'd throw your way without batting an eye. You didn't regret the part you played, no, you just regretted the team that you were apart of.

It had been a crazy seven months. You remembered when things turned left, back when Emily started acting weird. She was shorter, snappier, she had less patience with any of you. Long gone were the days of wasting your time with jokes and innuendos. She had a lot on her mind, a lot none of you were privy to, and you remembered how you'd stretched yourself. You'd all tried so hard to show her you were there, to let her know that you could be trusted.

Your face contorts into a scowl, it had become your new resting face in the last few weeks. God, you hated how stupid and naive you'd been back then. Now that everything was out in the open, it was almost too obvious where the deception began. What was the point of taking care of people who had no trouble treating you like some disposable pawn piece to be moved to fit their whims. Damn. You were crying again, you'd been doing that a whole lot too lately.

You scrub furiously at your face, and you hate your teammates a little bit more. JJ had gone first, face devoid of any timidity or uncertainty. Long gone were the days of Jennifer Jareau the Liaison, she was a profiler now, one of you. When she'd come back, you'd been ecstatic. The unit hadn't been the same since she was transferred, you'd missed her so gravely. But now, now the sight of her just reminded you of the secret you'd been holding on the tip of your tongue.

Hotch wasn't the only one who had known about Emily.

You feel a hand moving to rest on the top of your thigh, and you flinch violently. You sniffle audibly, eyes moving to rest on Penelope, your God-given solace. Your best friend. She, Derek, and Spencer were the only ones who wholeheartedly understood what you felt. But even still, Hotch hadn't used their feelings to make them blind, the way he had done with you. He'd played you like a goddamn fiddle, and you'd let him. Because you were weak, stupid, grieving, and in love.

Hotch had never been in the cards for you, not that you weren't beautiful, gorgeous, an amazing agent. You had the stamp of approval of both Agents Gideon and Rossi. Erin Strauss had been (by your request) rejecting every request of transfer any other unit had tried to offer. You were an asset to the bureau, and a major part of this team. You'd been around since the beginning. You'd witnessed doe-eyed Spencer Reid join at age 23, full of facts and anxiety.

You'd seen Derek blossom and break out of his play-boy persona, and become someone that other branches of the law fought to have. You'd been around for so long, you'd witnessed so much, and Hotch knew that. Which you suppose is what you allowed yourself to believe was the reason he'd never shown signs of reciprocating your feelings. He was respecting your future, leaving your options open. But those were the delusional musings of a girl in love with someone she can't have. Hotch wasn't into you, and you knew that.

So why, why, why did you let him convince you of the opposite? For even one measly second? And, yes, of course in the grand scheme of things you understood why he did what he did. But it didn't make it hurt less. In fact knowing his duty to Emily outweighed his duty to anything else just made this whole ordeal feel more like a slap to your face. Penelope gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze, and you're pulled from your running mind. You blink, registering her worry.

"Are you alright?" she asks, and it's the first time anyone's asked you that since the first day. You know they were giving you space to cope, which only seemed to reaffirm your feelings of betrayal and loneliness. "We'll get out of this, alright? And we'll-we'll be able to be a complete family again." she proceeds, and serves you right for believing someone understood what was going on. They'd all misunderstood you. They thought your behavior was fear of the team being dismantled. Some profilers you were surrounded by.

"I'm fine, Garcia." you say, and you can't bite the snippiness if you wanted to. "I just want to get this over with, and get the hell out of here." you add, and you're standing up, Penelope's hand dropping limply as you move your seat. You find a more isolated corner, plopping back into the uncomfortable seat, as the legs squeak slightly. Your leg is back to shaking, only now you've taken to chomping on your bottom lip. You don't imagine Penelope's hurt expression, you know without a doubt that you'll cave. And you can't.

Not this time.

Your phone chirps in your pocket, and you jump once more. Your jumpiness was a new attribute triggered by the amount of sleep you hadn't been getting. Pulling it out you see that it's a call from your big sister, and you curse under your breath. You were supposed to be watching your niece so your sister could pick up an extra shift. None of you had really expected for things to go this far.

"Hey..." you wince, because you can hear the heaviness of your feelings ladled over your words.

"Hey, are you alright? I got a call from Spence." and you're surprised. You look up, searching for the brunette anywhere in the vicinity, and find that he hasn't shown up yet. It's a bit of a shock, especially for someone as punctual as Reid. You did however spot JJ still meandering about, and she's not looking tense at all. Despite your anger towards her, you couldn't deny that she'd quickly fallen into the role of a profiler. It fit her almost like a glove.

"Spencer called you?" you ask, and you hear the tension in your sister's sigh. You imagine that she must be exhausted. Your sister did a lot, and managing a blossoming family was hard. Your niece was five, and she had a new addition to the family on the way. Which was why it was so important for you to be there on the days she needed you to watch your niece.

"Yes, he said something about..." your sister lowers her voice. "Emily." she questions, and you find your head nodding despite the fact she can't see you. "Are you alright?" she asks again, and this time she emphasizes how important it is for her to hear directly from your mouth the state of your wellbeing. Your sister seemed to always see right through you, it was a wonder she wasn't the one in the FBI.

"I'm-" you trail off before you can lie. "I'm sure if they could they'd disband the unit." you whisper, and you look up just as Derek is exiting the court room, Penelope looking terrified as she takes his place. Derek scans the room before he spots you, and his eyes soften. JJ approaches him and the two seem to chat animatedly. Still they look so serious, there was no room for smiles and banter today.

It's not long though before they're looking at you again, and you know that they know. Your self isolation wasn't something you were exactly being subtle about. You immediately look away, focusing in on what your sister was saying. "Bad decisions or not, they're no good without your unit." she says, and pride still manages to swell up inside of you. "You guys do good work. You work because you're together, everyone plays their role." she proceeds, and it's then you shatter.

Play your role. What role exactly did you play? Hotch was the stoic leader that somehow seemed to play the role of pseudo-father so well for every member of the team, with the exception of Rossi and Derek. Derek, was the shoe-in for promotion. The older brother who teased you relentlessly, but would fight til his last breath to protect you, and he always did. JJ, the pretty girl. The one who everyone on the team at some point had been attracted to. But more than that, she was resilient, a subtle glue that kept your unit running.

You quickly slot through everyone else's roles in your head, and huff. What were you except the odd-woman out. The dummy with a crush on your unit chief, and too much knowledge for your own good. You supposed that was why Hotch had to distract you with exaggerated gestures. If you got out of your feelings and really thought about it, you knew that if anyone on the team was going to see through the smoke, and uncover the truth about Emily, it would be you.

So he had to handicap you. What better way than by hanging the possibility of a romance in your face. Still, it was cruel. Just more proof that this was not the family you made them out to be. "Yeah, I'm not so sure." you reply, and you can hear how disgruntled you sound. It smacks you like a ton of bricks, and it's then you truly realize just how hurt you were by everything. Your sister sighs deeply, and it makes you second guess yourself. Were you being irrational? Unfair?

"I know what Hotch did." she begins, "And it was awful to play with your feelings like that." she expresses, and you feel validated. "And nobody's expecting you to just welcome Emily back with open arms after months and months of thinking that she was dead. You were deceived, and I want you to feel however you want, okay?" she says, and you don't respond, mostly because it feels rhetorical. "Just don't do anything rash without thinking it through alright?"

You don't know what she means by that so your eyes roll. "I think we're well past that, if they find us guilty I could lose my job." you remind her, and she chuckles. You don't find it funny, you can't. Your love for the job outweighed a lot of things, so it had been a no-brainer to help Derek seek out Ian Doyle. You wanted his head spinning on a pike, and you weren't planning to take no for an answer.

two weeks prior.

You were sitting across from Derek, steaming mug of coffee in your head that was more french vanilla creamer than anything else. You held the staged photograph of Declan and Louise. Derek's holding an identical photo, a heady sigh escaping him as you both rack your brains for some sort of bullseye. Something that would point you right in the direction of Declan. "Okay, Emily needed to get Declan a new identity." Penelope says as she walks into the office. She sits in the chair right beside you, arm full of stress balls and files. "So she must have used someone that she trusted." she proceeds.

"Alright, well that's a short list, but it's probably not even written down." is Derek's tired reply.

"Even if it was, she's been so many places, with so many different points of contact. " you speak up, and you take a sip from your coffee, praying it kicks in and wakes you up a bit. "It's not gonna be super easy to track and narrow them all down." you say, and you realize your mistake just as Penelope is placing a file in your hands.

"Oh, tell me about it. Two columns, domestic and imports." she says as she passes the other to Derek, who's looking at you with an amused smile stretched across his face. Serves you both right for underestimating the genius of Penelope Garcia. "I accept your apology, cutie." she says, leaning into you as you grin, smacking your lips in a kiss.

"Hey." JJ's at the door of the office, all three of you turning to look her way as she beams brightly. "Have you guys seen, Spence?" she questions, and you remember how you'd offered to bring him a coffee as a respite from the garbage water they served in the bullpen. He'd shut you down politely asking to reschedule as he was going to be spending his day at the Firing Range. You understood the need, he wanted to protect himself, and the team. He had to get better.

"He's at the firing range." you and Penelope speak in unison, making eye contact, as hers narrow. You knew instantly she would have questions about why you of all people knew Spencer's whereabouts.

"Again?" JJ questions as you shrug your shoulders, her eyes flitting towards you.

"Ever since Prentiss died, he..." Penelope speaks your thoughts.

"Right." JJ nods her head. "Uh... did you guys just get a new case?" she questions, hands clasping together in front of her.

"It's just an old one." Derek answers.

"Do you want some fresh eyes?" she asks, and it's painfully clear that she's still figuring out how to feel more like the team again.

"Not just yet." Derek denies, and he's polite, but you knew why he was being this way. You were all for keeping anything related to Doyle under wraps until you were further along.

"Ok. Um, well let me know." she hums, and then she looks back at you. "Y/N, can I..." your eyebrows raise as she trails off. "Can we talk? It'll only take a second." she hopes, and you look to Derek and Penelope for a moment.

"We won't do anything big without you." Derek promises, and you nod, closing the file, and handing it off, before you stand to your feet. You follow JJ out of the office, and down the hallway, stopping just before you reach the heart of the bullpen. You look to her expectantly, a bit confused, but not on edge. You had missed JJ, and in the two months she'd been back, it'd been pretty hard to get some real time with her. You'd hoped a break in the case would help to change that.

"Everything okay, Jaige?" you ask, and you witness how she exhales in relief right in front of you.

"God, it is now." she says, and your eyebrows jump up. She seems to understand the confusion on your face as she lets out a chuckle, dispelling more of her own tension. "You've been calling me Agent Jareau since I got back... not JJ and definitely not Jaige." she explains, as it seems to register for you. "I guess I was just a little worried I'd done something to make you mad at me." she admits, and she's clearly sheepish.

"Oh." you chuckle yourself, and you reach out to hold her shoulder. "No, you've done nothing wrong." you promise. "I've just been a bit in my head these last few weeks, but I'm really glad you're back." JJ beams at your words, and all the remaining tension in her posture dissipates instantly.

present day.

"Hey, everything alright?" you look up, pulled from your thoughts at the presence of Spencer Reid. He's holding a medium cup of a steaming liquid that you can only assume is coffee, and you find yourself smiling despite yourself. "I remember you asked me a few weeks ago about coffee." he holds it out, and you're quick to press your phone to your shoulder, neck craning slightly as you take it.

"Thanks, Spence." you mumble, and you can practically hear your sister's smirk from the other line. "Could you just give me one second, I'm talking to my sister?" you question, and Spencer nods his head, eyes widening in understanding. You smile politely, and he beams back at you, pretty eyes seemingly brightening before he's making his way over to Derek who's smirking like the nuisance he is.

"Hey." you mumble once he's gone, and your sister is snickering. For some odd reason she'd been dropping hints that maybe the guy on the team you should be setting your sights on was Spencer. To your defense, it wasn't like he wasn't attractive. You'd be an idiot to deny his boyish charm and good looks, but after he'd sat you down and admitted he had a crush on JJ, back during his second year, you'd sort of blocked any potential attraction towards him out of your head.

Now he was just Spence.

"Hey, I should go. I just wanted to check in, Spence made me aware of everything so I've got everything figured out on this end." she promises you, and you nod once more despite yourself. "Just think about what I said, alright? It'd be a shame for you to leave behind such a good job." she finishes, and you don't know how to respond to that, so you don't. "Call me later?" she questions, though you know she's telling you more than asking.

"I will." you reply, and she sounds pleased as she exhales.

"I'll talk to you soon." and then the phone is clicking. You adjust your grip on your coffee, using your free hand to grab your phone, and place it down on your lap. The coffee smelled good, it was from that cute shoppe that sold different pastries and always smelled like cinnamon. You'd been there with Spencer and Penelope a handful of times, and they always made your coffee exactly how you liked it. Still, Spencer had never ordered for you so you await a mishap.

The first sip warms you up instantly, and you're knocked flat on your ass by how on point the drink was. Your eyes snap upwards, looking across the lobby towards Spencer, who's awkwardly sitting in a seat, Derek beside him. JJ was gone now, but you figured she was probably with Hotch and Emily, the three of them had been attached at the hip since the team was "back together". You're certain them being gone was what led you to standing to your feet.

You walk towards Derek and Spencer quietly, slipping into a seat next to Spencer as Derek leaned up against the wall. "I didn't know that you knew my coffee order." you whisper, and Spencer turns to look at you. He offers a half smile, you were certain you'd be passing a lot of those back and forth until the court proceedings were done with.

"Of course I do." he shrugs his shoulders. "I pay attention when you talk." he promises, and you wonder why he had to like JJ, and why you had to like Hotch. On paper, and off paper Spencer Reid was the perfect candidate for boyfriend, plus he never pretended to be into you to keep you from finding out the truth. You both fall into silence, there's not much else to say, but you let his words repeat in your head. I pay attention when you talk. It makes your stomach twist.

"You alright over there, pretty girl?" Derek's voice barely reaches over a whispered volume. It seemed you all were feeling the dreary aftershocks of an ordeal like the one you'd found yourselves in. You look up at Derek tiredly, and you don't understand why he's asking you this, not until you feel the scalding heat of hot coffee singing your skin. Two sets of worried eyes are drawn to your cup, it's squished in your palm, brown liquid streaming everywhere.

"Shit." you hiss, and the cup falls to the floor, you're quick to clutch your burnt hand. God, you were really torn up over this.

"I'll get this cleaned up." Derek promises, and he looks at Spencer as if he was communicating something he didn't want you privy to. Spencer falters, only for a second before he's reaching out for your forearm, and guiding you to your feet. You trail after him, walking down the long corridor, listening out for the telltale sign that Penelope was done, and they'd be calling you next. On your route you pass JJ who looks concerned as she looks between the two of you.

"Spence, Y/N?" she says, and you avert your gaze, you're not sure if you're more angry or embarrassed.

"Sh-she spilled some coffee." Spencer explains, but he doesn't stop walking. "Shouldn't be more than a first degree burn, if she soaks her hand for five minutes, everything should be fine." he is passive as he speaks, eyes never quite meeting hers as he continues to lead you.

"Let me take her." JJ offers, and both you and Spencer are quick to offer denials. She looks hurt but masks it quickly. "It's not like you can go into the girl's bathroom with her, right?" she says and it's then you both realize you've got no other choice. He looks to you, trying to gauge how you'd feel about it, and you sigh. Maybe this was for the best, you could finally get things off your chest with JJ. It was only fair. He seems to clock the instant you've decided, and concedes.

"I'll be right out here." he promises, and you nod slowly. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn't get the chance to.

"Spence." JJ says his name a bit more sternly, and he resists the urge to cut his eyes in her direction. He ignores her long enough to take in your ailed hand, he saw the way the skin began to redden and swell. He seems cross as he passes you off to JJ, and you feel a bit silly being fussed over for something as minute as a coffee burn. JJ's earnest in the way she takes you to the nearest women's restroom. You hiss the second the cold water comes in contact with your skin.

You don't say anything to JJ though, losing your nerve the second the two of you were alone. She looks like she's waiting for you to say something though, eyes brimming with some sort of unease. She was reading you, using her new skills to profile you. You suppose that's exactly what pushes you to finally speak. "We said we'd never profile one another." you remind her crossly, and she's sheepish. "Just because you're doing it in your head doesn't make it any less invasive." you keep your wrist in place, hissing silently.

"If you would just talk to me I wouldn't have to go that far." she counters, and you blink. Fair, but you had every right to keep your distance from her. Just because the rest of the team was still more or less unaware of JJ's role in harboring the secret of Emily, you'd read right through her.

"What's there to talk about exactly?" you ask. "None of us want to be here dealing with this." and you take the route of the naive girl.

"I'm not talking about with the trial... and the senators." she shakes her head, and she's almost pleading as she tries to catch your eyes in the mirror. "I'm talking about Emily." she deadpans. "Everything that happened?" she proceeds. "You've hardly said a word to her since she came back." she doesn't want to come off like she's scolding you, and so she takes in a breath before her tone can become defensive.

"I don't speak to ghosts." and it's a quiet little dig that she hears all the same. It forces a tense silence to wash over the restroom, the only sound slicing through the awkwardness is the water rushing from the spout. JJ clears her throat, blinking a few times as she adjusts your wrist, allowing the water to evenly coat your burn. Only a few more minutes of this and you could make your grand escape.

"That's not fair." she finally voices her thoughts with a deep sigh.

"Isn't it?" you snap. "Seven months we thought she was dead." and you suppose that was a mistake of hers, getting you started. "Pretty lucky that you were off at the Pentagon, right?" you ask sourly. "Or was it lucky that you were in on the whole scam? I mean you were at the funeral, but you didn't have to cry, you didn't have to grieve." you accuse, and JJ's jaw slackens, clearly surprised at your outburst.

"I lost my friend too, okay?" she counters and you scoff.

"Did you?" you argue. "All those nights I called you crying, all those texts, those check ins... how long did you know Emily was still alive?" you demand, and JJ's feeling cornered, and her heart rate is picking up. She knew there'd be mixed feelings about this, but she'd never expected to ever be at odds with you. You, Spencer, and JJ rounded out the younger crowd on the team, it was your job to stick together. "Answer me." you insist, and you sound so crushed as you speak.

"I knew the whole time." she answers, and you nod your head, because of course you already knew.

"Exactly." you sneer. "You're a liar." you hate how angry this whole thing makes you, but you can't deny it. They'd played with your feelings, all of them, and now you were meant to behave like nothing was wrong. "Did you know about Hotch?" you ask, and JJ flinches. She doesn't answer for a while, and the water seems to rush even louder in your ears.

"I told him it wasn't smart." she finally answers. "But we needed to ensure that Emily wasn't at risk, it was harmless... just some flirting to keep you from getting too close to the truth." and JJ is speaking as if this wasn't some major breach of your position as coworkers and alleged friends. "He'd never cross the line." she reminds you, and the reminder that yeah, Hotch would never be with you makes you wince.

"And he didn't." she says this like she knows for certain. "It was flirting, Y/N. it didn't mean anything, we just needed you to..." and she trails off when she sees how destroyed you look at her admission. "Y/N..." she trails off, and you inhale sharply.

"Don't." you exhale, and you snatch your hand from her grasp. The cool air of the bathroom immediately attacks the welts blooming on your hand. You don't have time to pay them any mind.

"We just wanted to protect you... and keep Emily safe in the process. The more of us that knew Emily was alive, the more of a liability we'd be while Doyle was still on the run." she says, and you suppose in the grand scheme you understand. As profilers, as special agents working for the FBI they'd done great work. As your friends, as people you'd considered family for years... they'd betrayed you.

Plain and simple.

"Congratulations, you did exactly what you meant to." you say dully, and you sniffle, though no tears are set to come. Instead you feel more anger blossoming in the pit of your gut. "I hope it was worth it." and it's dramatic, but you deserve the dramatics, sidestepping the blonde and leaving her behind just as Emily is stepping inside. She looks at you wide-eyed, before she sees JJ standing there seemingly frazzled.

"Is everything okay?" she questions, and you don't offer her an answer, instead leaving the restroom as your earlier words ring in your head. I don't talk to ghosts. And you don't, and despite your history you'd never allow yourself to. You find your way back to the seats that led to the courtroom, Derek was gone, the only person still there was Spencer. He stands up as soon as he hears your shoes.

"Where's Derek?" you ask quietly.

"He left with Garcia." he answers quietly. "I guess they're dismissed for now. They're in with Dave now." he explains, and your eyes shift to the door. More than likely you or Spencer would be next.

You sit down, and Spencer follows you, sinking back into his seat as his legs just barely brush against yours. "Are you scared?" you ask, and Spencer's head shakes.

"Are you?" he shoots back, and you look away from the door.

"Not of this." you admit. "But of what comes after." you add and Spencer's pretty brown eyes are swimming with confusion. "Can we really all bounce back from something like this?" you ask, and it's rhetorical, but he answers you all the same.

"We've come back from worse." he reminds you, and that faint smile is worming back onto your face.

"Sure we have." you agree numbly. Spencer's eyes drop to your hand.

"How does it feel?" he asks, and you follow his gaze with a shrug of your shoulders. He doesn't look pleased by this approach, and it makes you sigh.

"Just feels like I ran some water over it." you admit, and Spencer chuckles. "A bit anticlimactic if I'm honest with you, Doctor." and you're partly teasing, mostly because it's so easy.

"You'll need some sort of petroleum jelly... there's some pretty good products that aren't at all carcinogenic like the leading brands." he begins on a tangent, and it makes you smile a bit bigger. "That with some gauze is the perfect remedy for such a mild burn." he proceeds and you look down at it. There's a moment of silence between you, before he's talking again. "Can I ask what happened?" he whispers.

You hum, almost like you're pretending you can't hear him.

"With the coffee? Was it not good? I tried to follow your order exactly." he says and you squeeze your eyes closed.

"It wasn't you or the coffee, Spence." you promise him, and without thinking you reach out, small hand resting on his shoulder. "The coffee was perfect." you insist, and he relaxes, but not enough. "I guess I'm just thrown about all of this." you proceed. "No matter how much I try to remind myself that they did this to protect Emily... that their deception was for a good reason, it just makes me angrier. Why is it that I have to rationalize being angry?" you question.

"I have to reign my feelings in for the sake of the team." you're careful not to grow loud. Spencer's eyebrows are pressed inwardly, head shaking.

"You don't." he denies you quickly. "You shouldn't." he corrects.

"You're right." you agree, and your silent for only a second. "I wish everyone could be like you, Spence." you say, and your words surprise him. He feels this familiar wave of adoration that always seems to swallow him whole whenever he was around you.

"Really?" he knows it might be pathetic, to be hopeful for something like this. The chance to hear what popped in your head whenever you thought of him.

"Yeah." you say firmly, and he tries not to look too eager. "You're so smart." you tell him, and he knows this, but it still feels nice hearing it from you. "And you're always nice to me." you add with a quiet laugh. "And you'd never lie to me would you?" you ask, and in truth, it's not a fair question. Spencer wasn't in the position the others were in.

"What do you mean?" he asks, and he fears it may be the wrong response. You don't even react, at least not that he can tell.

"Nothing." you settle on, head shaking from side to side. "Forget I mentioned it." and he doesn't really want to remind you that his memory quite literally makes that impossible. "I heard that you weren't fighting the suspension." you say conversationally, and he's surprised, mostly because the only person he'd told about that was Derek. Which meant you had been talking about him when he wasn't around.

"I guess I just stand by everything we did." he tells you, and your hand still hurts a bit, but it's definitely a problem for a later version of you.

"Me too. I'm glad we got Doyle, and Declan's safe." you exhale, and despite your anguish towards the team, you meant every word.

"And the team's back together." Spencer himself doesn't sound so convinced. You look over at him at this, your own unconvinced expression slowly cracking through his attempt at a cool facade.

"Is it?" you ask, and Spencer's face softens, a small little frown taking over his otherwise usually content face. He couldn't admit it now, mostly because it didn't feel like the right time, but he paid attention to you. He knew all about your complicated feelings for Hotch "I don't want to be on a team with people who purposely keep me in the dark about things." you ask, and Spencer pauses.

"I'm sure they wouldn't if they had another choice." he offers, and it's not how he feels at all, but it's what you need to hear.

"You don't believe that." you deny, and Spencer can't fight his chuckle. "Or maybe you do, you've always been good at seeing the best in people."

"Oh, do you think so?" it's a bit of a surprise. With your job description it would've made more sense for you to tell him that he saw the worst in people. He felt it was a fair thing to say that he was exceptionally good at his job, but it's then he recognizes what it is you're truly saying, or at least alluding to. It makes his face heat up immediately, cheeks blossoming a rosy red that makes him want to roll his eyes.

"Of course." you promise, and then you're looking at him again. Your face is one of the prettiest he's ever seen, and it's not even subtle. You seem a bit uncertain of your own allure though, which to him is a major shock. "You're like the best person ever." you add, and he expects you to snicker or show some sign that you were joking, but you don't. Bad for him, because his deluded mind full of fantasies starring you would take words like those the wrong way.

"I think you're the best person ever..." he's whispered this, but you hear it all the same, and he's lucky enough to witness the way your entire face morphs. Despite the bleariness in your eyes, you beam brightly. He hates though, that you start to cry. It starts with one tear slipping down your cheek and dripping into your lap. The onslaught comes right after, and before you know it, you're choking on sobs.

"God..." he hears the bitter tang of self-loathing that attaches and weaves itself into your otherwise honey-filled tone. "You're making this so hard, Spencer." you huff, and you scrub at your face harshly. He doesn't understand, but he's too frozen in place to ask you what you mean. Lucky him, you seem to know that you've got explain a bit, so you do. "I'm gonna resign." you say this quietly, sniffling as more tears fall. Spencer feels like he's misheard you.

He wants to have misheard you. He flounders a bit, and he's mentally scolding himself, because he has to hurry the fuck up and say something. "You can't!" and he's scolding himself again for sounding too eager. You jump a bit at the outburst, and he winces right along with you. "We just got everyone back." he reminds you, and you exhale, head nodding in understanding.

"I know." you promise him. "Why do you think this is so hard. You think I want to be the asshole that turns the unit on its head?" you ask. "But I can't stay here and pretend that everything's fine... or act like I don't feel thrown about all of this." you proceed, and of course, Spencer understands, he's upset he was lied too as well.

"I understand." he admits with a sigh, and you let out a quiet noise of relief, almost like you were worried he'd be upset with you. He assumes this is just him being delusional again. You look like you have something sitting on the tip of your tongue, so he stays silent to give you the room to say all that you need to.

"Have you ever had feelings for someone?" you ask. You chuckle at the look he shoots you, "Not just for a second, Spence." you proceed. "I mean like... take your breath away, kind of almost-in-love feelings." you indulge, and Spencer's keen to shut his mouth. Yes, is the loud and resounding answer that rings in his head, because foolishly he'd allows you to captivate him like the siren you were almost three years prior. He'd be a dummy to tell you such now though.

"I-" he blinks harshly, eyes feeling too dry. "I can't say I have." he lies, and he remembers your words from earlier, how you'd praised him for being someone who would never lie to you. You don't seem to notice his deception though, and if you do, you're too in your own head to comment on it.

"Good." you say with a shuddered breath. "They're nothing but a headache, especially when the person doesn't want you back." you exhale the words, and it's like a dagger is being lunged into his chest. How dense could you possibly be with all your super smarts?

"Did something happen with Hotch?" he asks, and now it's your turn to be embarrassed, face pinching up as you choke on a breath. "I don't mean to pry, if it's personal... it's just that-" he trails off, seemingly waiting for you to berate him or tell him to back off. You don't, instead your nose twitches, and you begin to look at your shoes. "Y/N?" he nudges you with his elbow, and it's light.

"No." you finally say, head shaking. "I thought maybe..." you trail off, more embarrassment slicing at you as you cringe. "But it was all a ruse, just a way to keep me from getting too close, and figuring out everything about Emily before they wanted us to know." you say and Spencer's eyebrows furrow.

"They?" he pries, and you look at him like he's silly.

"Hotch and JJ." you answer plainly, and it takes Spencer a second. JJ who he'd went to for comfort for ten weeks? He blinks at you, and you shrug. "So you see... anyone that could take my feelings and use them to manipulate me... are they really worth sticking around for?" you ask, and Spencer doesn't want to validate you in this way. He wants to be selfish, he wants you to stay on the team.

He thinks about how devasted everyone would be. How devasted he would be to walk into the bullpen and find that your desk was empty.

"I don't want you to go..." he admits, and it's quite pitiful, the sadness that soaks the words like gasoline. You find yourself chomping on your lip again, nails pressing into the cuts of your palms, and Spencer's catching your bad habits in real time.

It's a bit invasive, the way his hand surges out, and stops you in your tracks. "Please don't do this." and you're not sure if he's talking about leaving the unit, or if he's referring to the gashes littering your hands. When he holds your palm out flat, and rubs his thumb across the bleeding indentations, you find that you understand quickly.

Every few seconds it's ebbing with more droplets of blood, and he's quick to wipe them away like they offend him. Just as he's moving to say something else, the doors to the courtroom are opening, and Dave Rossi is exiting, his eyes immediately on you and Spencer. You must look foolish, hands intertwined as you stare wide-eyed at the team's senior agent. It's probably why Spencer is dropping your hand as you're snatching it away from his grasp.

You still find that your eyes are quick to appraise one another. He's looking at you, and you're staring back, mouths parted as if you'd been caught. Had you been caught? Had there really been anything to catch? You don't have time to answer, because you're being called next. You frown at Spencer, standing to your feet as he feels his pulse threaten to leap to disrespectful speeds.

"Y/N..." he calls after you, and you stop for a second. Eager eyes fall back on him, and he's trailing off, because the look in your eyes says it all. If you got out of this without being fired, you could imagine a world where quitting the FBI no longer made you sick to your stomach. Silence befalls the space, and he shakes his head after a beat. You look disappointed but not surprised, inhaling deep and audibly as you march towards the court room.

Spencer doesn't know what you're going to say, but he hopes recalling all you'd been through in the last few weeks will be enough to make you stay. At least until he has the courage to ensure that you leaving the team doesn't equate to losing you entirely and completely.

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dismaltouch · 1 year ago

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"bullshit you didn't drag me into anything! you fucking brought me into this goddamn disaster like i don't have enough shit on my plate as it is." how could someone with enough intelligence to get accepted into med school be so obtuse? if she'd just listened to him in the first place, they wouldn't be where they currently were. naturally, declan was going to place the blame solely on brooklyn since she was the one who insisted on being stubborn and doing something he'd advised against. declan's hands dragged down his face in frustration the more brooklyn spoke, an irritated groan escaping his lips. great. now he had to go beat the shit out of some asshole drug dealer for trying to get her to sleep with him. thankfully, she was too naïve to realize what the guy was hinting at, but declan wasn't going to let it slide. this was why he'd mentioned they'd only try taking advantage of her. "jesus christ, brooklyn. you know ... it's really fascinating how you've got the ability to get yourself into med school, but you're incapable of telling when a guy is trying to get you to let him fuck you. i mean ... how could you not have picked up on that?" he shook his head, annoyance only increasing. "you're not gonna fucking sleep with some loser for drugs. i'll take care of it. do you understand? stay the fuck away from him and stop trying to find yourself new drug dealers."

"i didn't drag you into anything!" brooklyn defended. she felt bad for not listening to him but she had been desperate. after failing the first exam, brooklyn vowed never to get that behind in class again. she needed her fix to keep her focus and catch up with what she'd missed - and if declan was refusing to supply her with what she needed, why couldn't she go to someone else ? it wasn't like she fully believed him when he said that the other dealers in town were bad news. and, sure, she was regretting that now. but she didn't force him to help her, did she ? "i told him i had the money to pay him! how was i supposed to know he wanted a different form of payment ?" alright, maybe she did ask him for help. but she was scared and she wasn't sure exactly what to do. "what does he mean by that ?" she asked, maybe a bit naive. it's why she came to declan - surely he would know what the guy was referring to. "just tell me and i'll take care of it! you don't need to do anything."

#bejcweled #* ☁️ ⸰ 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↪ declan moore.#thread: declan & brooklyn.#his stress levels are through the roof she sending him to an early grave oejrtert

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yearningaces · 9 months ago

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Declan x reader Defender of Chickens

Disclaimer: Declan is my own OC, he is a Hallewell. He's a fucked up lil guy but we love him

TW: animal death mentioned, decapitation, murder(Not really graphic)

Declan is not a good man.

He isn't a 'man' either, he muses. If he is not a good man though, then he is a creature.

Less than that, he is a Hallewell. He is what good men hope to avoid, and what evil men are stalked by in the darkness before their impending end.

He isn't a good Hallewell either though, he supposes he isn't a 'good' anything. He just is.

However…

As the Hallewell remains knelt on the earth of your doorway, gazing into the night sky above, he supposes he doesn't have to be good. He can simply be yours, instead.

The stars are gone tonight, concealed by clouds in the dark expanse of a night sky far above. The world below lies concealed, offering him the only cover he would ever appreciate. Darkness. Pure and unwavering darkness.

The lights of your home have extinguished at this hour, which is for the best.

Declan remembered when he arrived at your doorstep earlier that evening, finding you to be concealing prior shed tears, he was gentle in his embracing of yourself. His burly form was soft, and tender as he guided you to your bed. Declan was gentle as he tucked you in, shifting the blankets with care, ensuring you were as comfortable as you could be as he sat beside you. 'Who causes you grief? What blood must be shed?' He'd asked, his voice always as it ever is when speaking to you, a low soothing rumble.

The Hallewell's hand twitched on the hilt of his dark sword that was resting in his hands as he remembered how warm your cheek had been in his palm.

'It was nothing of concern', you had told him in such a trembling tone. 'I'm simply being sensitive, worry nothing of this', you had said, and oh how that alone lit a fire in his chest, howling out from the bars of his rib-cage at the thought of anyone telling you that your discomfort, your emotions were to be brushed off. As if unimportant.

At the time though, he only smiled softly, biting back his desire to bare his fangs towards anything and everyone who had ever so much as looked upon your form, as if they were worthy of such a sight as his heart. While stroking your cheek with his thumb, Declan spoke far softer than his lungs demanded. 'I cannot help if you do not say, my heart.'

'It was only the fence for my chickens… I woke this morning to find it was torn, and one of the hens was missing. It was no doubt a predator of some sort, searching for an easy meal…' Declan remembered your expression as you spoke of your small flock. His eyes drifted to the coop and the hen house from where he resided before your doorstep. Those chickens gave you enough eggs for yourself and to sell. You cared for them, so now here he sat upon the earth before your home. Watching over your chickens. Your flock, and by extension his.

His mind drifted once more as your trembling voice remained in his mind, seared into his head as if branded by iron and fire. 'The Fisherman's son came to my stall at the market today, he looked happy as he asked of my chickens, Declan we've never spoken before… I didn't know what he meant but it made me wonder something terribly paranoid.'

Declan considered your uneasy words and tone. You were such a wonderful creature, truly. His lovely human, his own beating heart. He was proud he'd kept face when he was seated before you, not once did his voice rise above a low murmur given your state. 'Alright, my heart, I hear your words. I understand your flock is important to you, and it is important to me,' The Hallewell gazed out to the patched portion of the fence, then to the dark treeline beyond. His attention grasped while the memory of your conversation rings in his head.

'I will watch over your flock tonight,'

Declan stands, silent as the grave he is ready to dig as the rustling of the underbrush grows louder

'But, Declan, it's the middle of winter and there is no guarantee anything would even occur-'

The Fisherman's son -Rory- not that his name matters much to a Hallewell, creeps out from the underbrush.

'It will be alright, my dove. I'll merely remain to watch over your flock.'

Declan stalks towards the boy, no more than his twenties, hands already tearing at the patched fencing, unaware of what is coming in the darkness.

'I will merely be rid of any predator that comes scratching at their coop.'

Rory freezes as his hands grasp the fencing. Feeling his mind screaming in the panic of a trapped animal under the blade.

'I would sooner throw myself into the bottom of the nearest well than let anything happen to your flock that you tend to so diligently.'

The blade swings down before a sound can rise from the now bleeding lungs of the Fisherman's son.

'Your flock is vital to you, is it not? Do your chickens not provide you with eggs, and feathers, and meat, and fertilizers? They are yours and by extension, they are mine to guard.'

Declan tears his sword out of the hot-blooded corpse.

'Allow me to be your guard dog, wont you?'

He strikes again, one swing of the dark metal, and the head is severed.

'Let me do this for you, just for tonight.'

Declan's expression is nothing short of sadistic glee as his smile widens, fangs sharp and eyes alight with the glow of malice and delight. The Fisherman's son, the red-haired hot-blooded fool of a jester at best. He'd often be on the receiving end of Declan's ire due to his subtle disregard for you, your work, your livestock that was often your main resource at the markets you enjoyed setting up a stall at. He'd done this for what? Petty pride? A way to lessen the competition of his own fathers stall? No matter, the answer never was of importance to the Hallewell. Better still, the issue was resolved.

With a quiet 'cluck' of the familiar-sounding hens that approached the commotion, Declan knelt by the fence and looked over at the chickens. "Ladies," He greeted in the way that so often seemed to amuse you. His eyes roamed the animals. Your flock. Something you had deemed important and now such notion was engraved into Declan's very bones as well. These creatures were to be shielded as readily as he did so for you. He knew the notion was one you'd laughed off, but he also knew how attached you were to these feathered things, after all, you cared for him, the wretched feathered thing he was, why not a chicken as well? While he would never understand, he knew you cared greatly for your animals, and as such he would ensure they would remain protected if only so you had no reason to mourn their early passing.

"Your predator is gone, now keep quiet tonight, our solace must be allowed uninterrupted rest." Declan looked down to the still-warm corpse, and reaching down to the severed throat of the Fisherman's son, he tore a strip of flesh, holding it to the fence as one of the hens was close enough to peck at the sliver of meat, grasping on and pulling it into the coop as the small flock gathered for the midnight snack. "Well done, ladies," Declan observed the hens before standing to properly dispose of the body, only so you'd never worry.

When the deed was done, and Declan's stomach sat full, did he finally re-enter your home. His dark sword was placed by the door, freshly cleaned and polished, his heavy boots left behind as he stalked through the dark home with familiarity.

Your room was silent and warm. Blessedly, you laid with peace it appeared to the Hallewell as he stood by your door.

Ever so slowly, Declan approached your bed, feeling as though he was approaching something far more vital than himself. His heart, laid upon blankets and cushions of your own throne as you slept. Declan felt his malice and hatred melting away from the inside of his rib-cage. Your very presence seemed to soothe some inner part of him that he had never previously known to be anything but loathing and ferocity, yet… Seeing your peace, your comfort despite knowing he was so close. You rested, despite knowing of the blood-stained and wretched thing that loomed and lurked within the walls of your own home, laid out within your own nest, content and safe.

Declan felt something in him wrench at the very idea alone, and seeing you, knowing these things… It only drew him closer.

The Hallewell orbited your presence as a devout worshiper would their solace. The brute of a creature, stained with the evil of the world, tainted with the deeds he had relished in, and never once regretted. Yet despite his very nature, you allowed him to be within your temple of gentle touch, and soft words, feeding his yearnings and his howling pleas for something kinder.

He almost didn't know what to do with himself as he edged closer, towards the side of your pristine resting place. Declan slowly, silently lowered himself to his knees before your bed. His hands resting upon the soft blankets, his forehead placed atop his hands. Declan felt his mouth moving without any noise of his silent words rising, in fear of disturbing your slumber. "My heart, my solace, my everything. You will not again have another tarnish the lands you have so diligently tended to. Never will another place their wretched form upon your home, in harm of your own nor yourself. The jester foolish enough to attempt so will never stain your lands, though his blood will feed them. I swear to you, and should another be shameless enough to try, their head will be placed atop a pike and left before the beds of flowers as a message to any other who might wish to do the same. Rest gently, dear dove, I will see to it, I will see to it all."

Declan will remain right where he is, he will not move as if a statue made of stone fit for nothing more than to be a visage of a human guised beast at worship before its personal devinity, and he will hardly breathe as he listens with bated breath for each beat of his own heart that lies within your own chest, whereas his lies only with visions of you.

Rest well.

#letters of yearning #Declan the Hallewell #monster x reader #x reader #tw animal death mentioned #not as pious as i intended but like... there are still fun times to be had with figuring out how to write Declan's speech patterns yk

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viandclintbarton-supremacy · 1 year ago

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Lionesses Cub (England Womens and Mens imagine) Gender Neutral Reader

The moment had arrived when F/N's teammates decided it was time to let them in on a little secret. that the Lionesses had a tendency to "baby" them from time to time. It had been a source of amusement among the team and they couldn't resist spilling the beans.

One evening, while the teams was gathered in their hotel room, Rice, Grealish, Foden and Pickford sat F/N down for a serious discussion, or so it seemed. They all wore exaggerated, stern expressions that F/N couldn't help but find suspicious.

"F/N" Declan Rice began, his voice grave, "there's something we need to talk to you about."

F/N raised an eyebrow, glancing around at their friends. "What's going on?"

Jack Grealish leaned forward, placing a hand on F/N's shoulder for dramatic effect. "You see, mate, we've noticed something... peculiar."

Phil Foden chimed in with an equally serious tone. "It's about the Lionesses, F/N. They seem to have a soft spot for you."

Jordan Pickford nodded gravely. "A very, very soft spot."

F/N's confusion deepened. "Soft spot? What are you guys talking about?"

Declan Rice cleared his throat and then began to recount some rather amusing incidents involving the Lionesses. "Remember that time Bronze tied your shoelaces during practice?"

*FLASHBACK*

"Oi, F/N," she called, her voice carrying across the field.

F/N looked up, Their brow furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, Lucy?"

Lucy, not one to beat around the bush, simply bent down and began to tie F/N's shoelaces, Much to F/N's confused face

"Lucy, I've got it," F/N protested, trying to pull their foot away, but Lucy's grip was firm.

"Nonsense," she replied playfully slapping their boot to signal stop moving. "We can't have you tripping over your own shoelaces, can we? Safety first, mate."

The male players couldn't help but watch the spectacle, their amusement growing with each passing moment. F/N's protests grew more and more comical as they tried to wriggle out of Lucy's grasp.

"Lucy, seriously, I can tie my own shoelaces," They insisted, but Lucy was having none of it.

"There you go," she declared triumphantly, having successfully tied a perfect knot. She gave Jack's boot a playful pat. "All done. You're welcome." Lucy said with a smile and ran back on the pitch

F/N sighed in disbelief , realizing that there was no arguing with Lucy's determined instincts.

*FLASHBACK END*

F/N's eyes widened in realization. "...........that was one time.......well she still does it" they looked down scratching the back of their head

Jack Grealish couldn't contain his laughter. "And what about when Millie Bright offered to carry your bags after training because they looked heavy?"

*FLASHBACK*

"Oi, F/N," she called out, her voice carrying across the hallway. "Need a hand with that?"

F/N, determined to prove that they could handle their bag on their own, shook their head vigorously. "Nah, I've got it Millie. Thanks though."

But Millie was having none of it. Ignoring F/N's protest, she strolled over to them, a confident grin on her face. she grabbed the heavy bag, hoisted it onto her shoulder and began to carry it up the stairs with ease.

F/N stood there, their mouth agape, watching in awe as Millie Bright effortlessly managed what they had struggled with just moments ago. Rachel Daly who was walking with Bright couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

But Millie wasn't finished. Once she had deposited F/N's bag at the top of the stairs, she turned back to him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Alright, F/N, hop on!" she declared.

F/N, baffled and unsure of what she meant, "Hop on what?"

Without Warning, Rachel lightly pushed F/N into Millie who simply crouched down and pick them up onto her shoulders into a firemens carry

F/N's eyes widened in disbelief. "You've got to be joking!" They said turning red in the cheeks as Millie walked up the stars

As they reached the top of the stairs, Jack Grealish, who had been nursing a hangover in a nearby room and had wandered out to see what the commotion was about, stood there, wide-eyed and utterly baffled by the sight before him.

He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must be seeing things due to the remnants of his hangover. Without a word, he turned on his heel and quietly slipped away, leaving the scene behind.

*FLASHBACK END*

F/N covered thier face "She didnt put me down till we got to my hotel room door"

Phil Foden added with a grin, "Or when Hemp gave you THAT pep talk?"

*FLASHBACK*

"F/N" F/N who was sitting at a pub watching a game turned to see Lauren Hemp. her tone filled with the conviction of a big sister, "you've got this. You just need to walk up to them, look them in the eye and be confident."

F/N, slightly bewildered by Lauren's words, furrowed their brow. "Huh? What are you talking about, Lauren?"

Lauren leaned in closer, giving F/N an encouraging nod. "Don't be shy, F/N. Just go for it. We're all here to support you."

Y/N, still a bit perplexed, glanced back at the television screen and then back at Lauren. "Are you ok?, Lauren? I'm just watching the match."

Lauren, not one to back down, was convinced she had caught Y/n in the act of asking out a stranger. "Come on, Y/N! Life's too short. Ask them out!"

F/N's confusion deepened, but before they could explain that they was not interested in anyone at the bar, Lauren, with an encouraging pat on the back, said, "You've got this. Just be yourself."

With that, Lauren Hemp left the pub, leaving a bemused F/N and a chuckling Phil Foden in her wake.

F/N turned to Foden with an incredulous expression. "Did she just...?"

Foden burst into laughter, shaking his head. "I think she thought you were about to make a move on someone at the bar, mate."

*FLASHBACKEND *

Jordan Pickford chuckled. "And let's not forget Mary , who made you a cup of tea and said you needed to relax after a tough match."

*FLASHBACK*

"F/N, you look like you could use a pick me up. How about a nice cup of tea?"

F/N, always appreciative of a comforting cuppa, nodded gratefully. "That sounds perfect, Mary. Thanks."

Mary bustled about, preparing a cup of tea with precision and care. handed the steaming cup to F/N, but she leaned in with a whisper.

"F/N, I have to give you a piece of advice," she began, her tone serious.

F/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's that?"

Mary's expression grew solemn as she leaned in closer. "Promise me, you'll never, ever drink Lipton tea."

F/N blinked in surprise. Lipton tea? It wasn't their favourite brand anyway, but Mary's dramatic warning piqued his curiosity.

"Why not, Mary?" they asked, playing along.

"Because it's just not proper tea, F/N. You deserve better."

F/N couldn't help but burst into laughter at Mary's playful theatrics. "Don't worry, Mary, I'll steer clear of Lipton. I wouldn't want to offend the tea gods."

Mary grinned, satisfied with her mission accomplished. "That's the spirit, F/N. Stick to the good stuff."

*FLASHBACK END*

As the stories continued to flow, F/N's face shifted from confusion to a mix of embarrassment and amusement. They couldn't believe they had never noticed these "babying" moments from the Lionesses before.

"You guys are having a laugh, right? Has Jack been on a pub crawl with you guys again?" F/N said, realizing and trying to deny that they had been on the receiving end of some well-intentioned but sometimes humorous acts of care from their female counterparts.

The room erupted in laughter as their friends confirmed the truth of their stories. "Mate, you're like the Lionesses' little Sibling!" Grealish exclaimed, still chuckling.

F/N couldn't help but think of all the moments they didn't mention. "Well, I guess I never really noticed. They ain't that bad, are they?"

The next day, during the joint training session where both the men's and women's teams were on the field together, F/N couldn't help but notice the subtle instances of "babying" from the Lionesses. It seemed like their friends had opened their eyes to something they had been blissfully oblivious to.

As they stretched before practice, Lucy Bronze offered them a water bottle and reminded them to stay hydrated and double checked to see if F/N shoelaces were tied, earning F/N a playful jab from Harry Kane who basically said "see" with his facial expression. Millie Bright flashed them a knowing smile when she saw them tying his shoelaces and Lauren Hemp couldn't resist giving them a thumbs-up from across the field when he put on yellow bip on.

During drills, The team had some free time to do a game and F/N swapped places with Ramsdale letting F/N go in goal. Mary Earps called out encouragement to them as they made a save, her words carrying across the field. The rest of the women's team were equally supportive, offering F/N high-fives and words of encouragement that were just a tad more enthusiastic than usual.

After a gruelling training session, as the players gathered to cool down and chat, F/N found himself surrounded by the Lionesses, each offering their own version of friendly advice and care.

"F/N, don't forget to ice that ankle!" Lauren Hemp said with a grin.

Lucy Bronze patted them on the back and said, "You were amazing out there today, young one."

Millie Bright chimed in, "Make sure you eat a good meal, F/N. We don't want you getting too tired."

Mary Earps gave them a wink. "And get a good night's sleep, alright? No late-night gaming sessions."

F/N couldn't help but laugh at the attention they were receiving. "Alright, alright, I get it! I'll take care of myself."

Sterling: "This is mad"

F/N male friends, who had been observing the interactions, couldn't resist but watch the lionesses surround F/N.

Sancho: "Yeah its like F/N is their child"

The group watched as F/N made eye contact with them and made a face saying help me. To which the group of Sterling, Sancho, Jack, Foden and Saka turned thier backs leaving a betrayed look on F/N's face

Saka: "You guys are never gonna let them hear the end of this are you?"

Grealish: "You are correct, The young cub needs to learn" Jack said in a playful voice as Foden gasped

Foden: "Oh my days. F/N is the lionesses's cub" The group laughed at the new nickname and the accuracy of the name

Throughout the day, the nickname "the Lionesses cub" stuck and spread to all the male footballers and staff even Serena Wiegman was told by Southgate. The men couldn't wait to announce the name to F/N

Later a team meeting was held in a spacious conference room and it was a special occasion where both the men's and women's teams were gathered together. Gareth Southgate and Serena Wiegman, the respective managers were present.

As the meeting progressed, the topic of team dynamics and bonding was discussed. Serena Wiegman, with a twinkle in her eye took a moment to address the combined group.

"Before we continue," Serena began, "I think it's important to recognize the strong bonds that have formed between our teams. We've become more than just teammates; we're like a family."

Gareth Southgate nodded in agreement, acknowledging the sentiment. "Absolutely. Our collective spirit and support for each other are what make us stronger on and off the field."

Serena then turned her attention to F/N, who was sitting among their male teammates. "Speaking of which, I believe there's a certain matter we need to address."

All eyes turned to F/N, who looked genuinely terrified as both teams starred at them but slightly curious. They had a sinking feeling that they were about to be the center of attention once again.

Serena smiled warmly at F/N. "L/N, it has come to our attention that you have a new nickname within the team, one that reflects the unique care and camaraderie we share."

Y/N: "this can't be good"

Gareth Southgate, who couldn't hide a grin, decided to spill the beans. "Y/N, from this day forward, you shall be known as 'the Lionesses' cub.'"

The room burst into laughter, and even Serena couldn't help but chuckle at the playful reaction. F/N, their face turning red and became frozen.

They hadn't expected the managers to join in on the teasing. The room erupted in laughter, both from the men and women players.

Alessia Russio and Toone exchanged a mischievous glance, clearly enjoying the moment. Lucy Bronze couldn't help but grin, and Millie Bright covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Mary Earps laughing as she thinks how this can be turned into a TikTok.

Later that night Alessia Russio and Toone sat together on the training field, "I mean, I could tie my own shoelaces, but Lucy was so adamant about it."

Russio nodded, laughing at Toone's comment. "I remember Lauren Hemp giving me a whole speech about confidence and pick up lines"

They both turned to see a rather unamused F/N in the distance. What caught their attention even more was the sight of Fran Kirby, standing on her tiptoes, holding a handheld fan to F/N's face, trying to cool him down.

THE END

Wanted to try something new and thought why not do something with both the lions and lionesses. i hope you guys enjoyed and if you want more let me know. feedback is always accpeted too

Sorry for spelling mistakes and bad grammer

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ssaemilyhotchner · 3 months ago

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Hi! Congratulations for your 1k followers!

Can I request K for the prompt?

tysm, dear anon!

OTHER 1K DRABBLES | Read on AO3 Join the celebration by requesting a letter!

letter: K | prompt: kindred spirits | wc: 1k | a/n: Set a few weeks post-ep for 9x5, “Route 66,” with Hotch recovering from internal bleeding.

Please do not repost (reblogs welcome) or otherwise claim as your own.

He must be dreaming, he thinks, because there is no other explanation for the sight of her at his door. “Emily?”

She answers with a hug that is instantly better than any of the medicine he has taken in the past few weeks. “Hi.”

“Wha–how are you here?”

“Modern aviation is a wonderful thing,” Emily says dryly. He arches an eyebrow and she chuckles, putting her hands up in mock defeat. “Garcia called me.”

Hotch steps aside and waves her in off his doorstep, still incredulous. “So you just…hopped on a flight to see me?”

“Of course,” Emily says, as if it is a given; and perhaps it is, he thinks with a rumbling affection, one that intensifies when he sees the worried look in her wide brown eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Can I get you anything?”

“Tsk. No fussing over me, that’s my job.” Hotch gives her a look which she promptly ignores. “What are you having? I’ll make it myself,” she insists. He grumbles his response, but watches fondly as she opens the right cupboards for a mug and some tea, her muscle memory still serving her well. “What do you mean by ‘better’?”

“I’m getting my strength back. Been sleeping through the night, too.” He nods his chin at the mug in her hands. “Ginger purportedly helps with the inflammation, but the tea is mostly a placebo. A nice one, though.”

Once the water has been boiled and poured, Emily curls up beside him on the couch and studies him earnestly. “You scared me, you know,” she says eventually, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

Emily shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize. I just…had to be here and see you.” She brings a trembling hand to his face, smiles softly when his eyes fall closed at her embrace. “Had to feel you.”

At her tenderness, Hotch’s carefully sculpted mask slips; he has always been wont to let her see more than the others. The confession comes out in an exhausted rush, before he can bite the words back. “I’m tired of it, Emily. Tired of him.”

“I know.” She moves her hand to the base of his neck and scratches the short, coarse hairs there, pleased when he breathes out a sigh. “He takes and takes and takes, even from beyond the grave. It’s not fair.”

Of course. It strikes him then, how intimately Emily understands. His throat tightens at the realization. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” She tilts her head to the side in question and it’s so adorably, familiarly her that his skin blooms with warmth. “Because you know what it’s like.”

Emily trails her hand down from his neck to rest lightly on his chest. “I can’t claim to know what the past few years have felt like for you,” she corrects gently.

“Can’t you?” Stake wounds and brands and knife scars, Hotch wants to argue. Declan and Jack, boys used against their fathers. Haley and Lauren—no, Emily—torn quickly from the world.

Suddenly he’s furious at the thought of all the two of them have endured. All week long, he’d had to keep his anger at bay; there is no place for fury when healing from internal bleeding, nothing productive about cursing a dead man. But now, here on the couch with Emily, this woman he has loved and seen leave too many times, his compartmentalization is shot and his anger metastasizes.

He doesn’t need her humility or her dismissal of her own post-traumatic stress, especially when the trauma in question put her—or rather, a very real part of her—in a coffin he fucking helped carry. He needs her running into battle with him. He needs her fight.

Emily can feel his rage simmering just under the surface, eager for a pressure valve, so she tries another approach.

“You asked me if I came to see you because I know what it’s like. Our ghosts are similar, yes, and a corpse still plays god in some areas of my life.” She shakes her head. “But I’m not here because of that. I’m not here because of me, or because of Doyle or Foyet. I’m here because of you. I’m here because I knew you’d be angry; and I know this not because I’d be angry,” she preempts, “but because I know you.

“I know that you get lonely when you’re angry, and that you think you need a partner in your rage to corroborate your anger and pain, otherwise it feels like it’s selfish and unnecessary. Because you’ve spent your whole life having to be strong for others," Sean and Haley and Jack and the whole team, “compressing your emotions to fit others’ palatability.” Emily hunches to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to do that with me, Aaron. Your anger is valid whether or not it fits my or someone else’s blueprint. You can just be angry. Name it. Feel it.”

Hotch looks at her for a long while, equal parts disconcerted and incredulous. She had always been able to cut right to the core of him, unman him with ease.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he says after a weighty silence. “I don’t know how to feel it without also letting it become another scar on my chest.” He pushes his shirt up off of his lower abdomen, where thin white scars criss-cross his body. Then, slowly, giving her the chance to object, he pulls the neck of her sweater down to reveal the brand above her breast. “You and I have enough of those. We don’t need another.”

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?” she asks, her voice soft. Then a wry smile tugs at her lips. “A wise man once said, ‘Scars remind us where we’ve been. They don't have to dictate where we're going.’”

“…We’re having a moment and you quote David Rossi at me?”

She snorts. “He’d be thrilled.”

That wins her a genuine laugh, lines still crinkling around his eyes when he sobers a few beats later. “I mean it, Emily. I don’t know how to do it,” Hotch repeats. “But I’m willing to try.”

Just scared, Hotch wants to add. And scared to admit even that.

As always, Emily seems to see right through him, because she takes his hands in hers and gives them a squeeze. “I know. But,” she says gently, and suddenly they’re brought back four years to a conversation in his old apartment, yearning simmering between them even then. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

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ronseyz · 2 years ago

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gansey obviously uses these streams as background noise while he’s journaling/researching/doing homework. at some point he decides to comment “‘ronan wednesday’ sounds much more appealing than sunday. missed opportunity :/“ because it’s been bothering him for weeks. matthew agrees and petitions for ronan to start joining him twice a week. somehow this turns into a ronsey meet cute because 99.9% of my raven cycle au thoughts revolve around a ronsey meet cute.

twitch streamer matthew lynch who begged his brother to game with him during one singular stream but he becomes such a hit on his channel that he begrudgingly agrees to become a weekly segment. so like. gamer boy ronan but only on sundays after church

#this could also obviously be canon compliant #but i would hate to do that to declan. he’s already so stressed. having an influencer little brother would probs send him to an early grave

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indefenseofkara · 2 years ago

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MWII Operator Headcanons: Kortac edition

Hello! It’s time for my Kortac headcanons! I’m doing the base operators that came with the game (except Oni because he’s a playstation exclusive so I can’t play him.) Like before, all images are screenshots from my game.

“Fender” Takacs

momma's boy, in the positive sense

can be loud and rambunctious, easy to view as a "mans man"

but very respectful of women and doesn't tolerate any of that "locker room talk"

the whole "mystery dad" thing has maybe gotten out of control

and when he's drunk he might let slip that he thinks his dad is someone like Reagan or maybe Elvis

or a time traveler. Seriously

“König”

I like the cleft pallet head canon

definitely a guy who crafts

there's already a ton of fan ideas about him, I don't really have anything to add

“Calisto” Allard

thinks she's better than you, but she's right

honestly one of those people who is good at everything and it's just not fair

refuses to look unkempt. No messy buns, no old t-shirts. Even her lounging around or doing chores clothes are high quality and well coordinated

still coming to terms with the fact that she isn’t straight

Darnell “Hutch” Hutchinson

competitive to a fault

seriously, just say "bet I can (blank) better than you" and he's ready to go

really good singing voice, a deep baritone

I think he has sisters. idk why, it just feels right

he’s actually the most meta character because he worked with the Call of Duty Endowment, which implies CoD exists within the world of CoD

Kim “Horangi” Hong-jin

has attempted to bet on the fact that he's a terrible gambler

it did not work

because he is a terrible gambler

can really hold a grudge

dyed his hair blue one time and kinda wants to do it again

likes to paint his nails

Rozlin “Roze” Helms

I like to think that she put Graves in his place a couple times when in Shadow company

like can you even imagine? He'd say some sexist remark and then say "not you/you're different/you don't count" or some "boys will be boys" nonsense

as if Roze isn't ready to throw down on behalf of any and all women in the fucking world

has been the "only woman" or the "first woman" in organizations for so long, and she's sick of it

maybe that’s one reason why she split from shadow company?

Sami “Zero” Zakaria

his call sign is the answer to the question "how much sexual attraction do you feel?"

(I'm trying to say he's ace)

yeah he had his rich party boy days, but that was more of a performance; a persona molded by societal expectations

when not in the battle field he's surprisingly chill

cannot stand low quality alcohol

Declan “Conor” MacConor

this mf-er blinked in my first screenshot of him

will play up the accent to get laid. No shame

if people get annoyed by his filthy mouth he talks about how cursing is a part of his ~culture~

guilty pleasure: reality tv

Tor “Aksel” Eriksen

serious about sunscreen. He's Scandinavian and has scars and tattoos. Gotta protect that skin

definitely owns a motorcycle

probably part of a heavy metal band at some point

he’s one of those guys who will wear shorts and sandals when it’s snowing and tell everyone “it’s not even that cold!”

Salvatrice “Stiletto” Muselli

biggest issue with her scar is that it makes it hard to do covert/undercover work

due to working on anti-drug task forces, she always carries narcan

has definitely threatened to castrate someone. Like holding a knife to their sack and everything

pretty good at giving herself manicures

she’s my fave, tbh

Thanks for reading! You can find my Specgru headcanons here.

#call of duty #mw2 #MWII #COD #Kortac #modern warfare #modern warfare ii #operators #headcanon #my COD posts

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bigfan-fanfic · 2 days ago

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7, 17, 27, 37 and 47 from the fifty more rook qs for both your rooks pls!

@spookyvalentine thank you for your ask! <3 <3 <3

7. How does their romance start?

With Emmrich, Tal is innocent and sweet, and they start slow together. Emmrich is Tal's first, and Tal will be Emmrich's last, and they both know this. In a word, what they have together is gentle. If he were an NPC, Tal would definitely respond with surprise and almost giddy pleasure if flirted with, and shyly ask if the player wanted something more to lock in the romance. There'd definitely be a ton of cuddling.

With Davrin, Declan turns around Davrin's "thrill of the chase" comment, implying that he'll be the one hunting Davrin instead of the other way round, and winking at him. From the beginning, there is passion between them. If he were an NPC, Declan would respond playfully and gamely to flirtatious options, but locking in the romance would be surprisingly sincere, with Declan admitting a strong desire to live, to avert the Calling and just find some peace with someone he loves... and he hopes that might be the player.

17. Any companions they don’t get along with? How does Rook navigate this?

Tal and Harding have a rough start. He's so foreign to her that she can't find anything to mirror or play off of, and thus doesn't really feel comfortable around him until he spends more time with the group and showing off his sense of humor. Tal knows she doesn't like him all that much and doesn't push, giving her the space she needs and to engage him at her own discretion.

Declan is an undisputed commander, leader of an elite group of Wardens enhanced and bolstered by Warden Avernus' findings. As such, you'd never catch him openly disliking a member of his squad. Luckily, he meshes well with the party, without many disputes.

27. Dorian’s opinion of Rook:

Far too young. The boy is far too young, and after working with the Child of Andraste, Dorian hates the idea of putting another young man in danger while he must take a sideline. But the world is cruel and has never taken Dorian's feelings into account, so needs must. Taliesin is wise for his age, and intelligent, but he is unused to the world. Dorian underestimates him, fears for him, and keeps his distance.

Dorian makes a note to himself. Ensure that the Iron Bull finds out about this redheaded giant who might just be as tall as him. It would be a sight to see them both... in the same room... perhaps shirtless and grappling. Dorian appreciates his steadfastness, though he is shocked that Declan is a competent orator and statesman in his own right. And a mage? With those biceps? Brains and brawn... perhaps he ought to test this man out himself before bothering Bull with this...

37. Who does Rook find themself turning to for advice?

Tal does love and respect Emmrich, but it's Neve he turns to for advice. Well, her and Varric, who Tal very quickly starts to see as a father figure, having had little to no such influence growing up in the Necropolis. Neve is probably the first person besides Varric to care about him as himself, not Speaker of the Dead, or Taliesin Ingellvar, the grave child born and raised in death. Neve truly becomes like a big sister to him and he comes to her for help, happily giving it in turn.

Declan is, bar Emmrich and perhaps Lucanis, likely the most experienced member of the Veilguard and doesn't often find himself relieving the burden of the chains of command. I can see him maybe chatting with Lucanis about his struggles, but I think he takes more solace with Davrin. They often sort out their various frustrations with a sparring session in a ring where the main statue decoration is placed at the Lighthouse, often grappling shirtless while everyone else pretends not to watch. It helps.

47. A scene at the Lighthouse while Rook is still trapped in the Fade:

It is an irony that only Tal could appreciate that the Lighthouse is nearly as silent as the grave without him there. Despite his quiet step, his still posture, the place does not sing without his vibrant laughter, his chatter with the wisps and spirits that pass through simply to visit him, and the groans at his silly jokes.

Emmrich is especially terse and worried, anxiety etched on his face. He uses magic to hold a chunk of raw lyrium in place as Davrin angrily hammers at it as if it will give Taliesin back.

Bellara has the blueprints for the dagger held up so that Emmrich can direct Davrin's blows. Assan curls up on the couch in Tal's room, squawking in a way no one wishes to describe as mournful. Manfred wobbles around with tea to everyone, although Lucanis has taken to climbing high up, as if he could see across the Fade to scout for him. Harding and Taash and Neve keep up the news from Thedas, coordinating and trying to figure out a next move - no one wants to suggest that Tal might not be back. He's the youngest of them all, and not getting him back is not even a possibility.

They WILL find him.

"Stop that." Davrin sighs loudly as Assan insists on looking under Davrin's bed, presumably for Declan. The poor griffon had been looking with increasing repetition and agitation for Declan.

"He's... away." Davrin grunted. Assan made a loud, questioning squawk.

"He'll be back. He's a tough one. A fighter. The best damn Grey Warden out there. So stop worrying." Davrin insists. A little too forcefully. Something catches in his throat, his voice breaking. Assan moves closer, pushing his head into Davrin's lap. And Davrin lets him, this time.

If a Grey Warden should let loose a few of his tears with none but his griffon to see, what harm would it do?

#declan fisher #taliesin var koenig #taliesin ingellvar #declan thorne #my ocs #oc: the general #oc: the magus #dragon age veilguard #my writings

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biggerbetterbat · 1 year ago

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[17] AND DARYL'S HERE

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: The group reunites and Charlie spends some time alone with Daryl.

Warnings: language, blood, walkers. fluff, mention of sex

Song: Brazil Declan McKenna

A/N: Hello :) Yesterday I had a good day to write and almost have ACT2 completed and waiting to be published. Please like, comment, so I could get a feedback if you like it or no. ENJOY AND SEE YOU SUNDAY!

WITH YOU ON WATTPAD

The funeral was like any other funeral. Maybe more emotional because a whole actual family was crying after the man, not just random people he met a month ago. Those people were crying, but wasn't it better for him like this? Every day was getting harder and harder, and there was no improvement on the way. There was no hope. So was it really a reason to cry that she was gone? At the same time, the funeral felt funny and pointless. Building the grave with rocks, praying like in old times, believing that God is still listening.

"It's good they are here," Charlie said. Charlie and Glenn worked together to erect the tent on Hershel's farm. They hammered stakes into the ground, pulled the tent fabric taut, and secured the poles. Despite a few fumbles and laughs, they managed to set it up just in time before the sun set, proud of their accomplishment amidst the rustic surroundings of the farm. They were putting up tents and making a camp as Hershel let them stay but not in the house. It was between the trees, all together, just like before in the quarry.

"Yeah," he said. "And Daryl's here."

Charlie furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him, not really knowing what he was talking about."Well, everyone's here."

"Yes, but you are happy that he's here." he looked at her. "You've been talking in your sleep...When you are asleep."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Glenn shrugged. "I think you know."

"Glenn..."

"I've noticed you tossing and turning at night. You haven't been sleeping well...or at all."

"Just some nightmares, nothing to worry about," she shrugged.

"And we won't be talking about what happened at CDC?"

"And what happened at CDC?"

"Look, Charls, I get it. We've all been through a lot," he said. "We're a team. I'm here...for you."

"Thank you, Glenn," Charlie said, moved by his support, but then she saw a person approaching them. "But now...you better be just here."

"What?"

But she didn't get to explain.

"I hear you're fast on your feet and know how to get in and out," said Maggie, looking into Glenn's eyes. "Got a pharmacy run. You in?"

"Uh..."

"Miss, what's the water situation here?" Dale asked.

"Got five wells on our land. House draws directly from number one. Number two well is right over there. We use it for the cattle but it's just as pure. Take what you need. There's a cart and containers in the generator shed behind the house. she informed while Charlie was exchanging stares. Then Maggie turned to the Asian boy. "I'll go saddle your horse then."

Charlie snorted.

"Horse?" he asked with a weak voice.

They were walking in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was rather pleasurable. She had another chance to observe him in the woods- in a natural environment it seemed. How he was moving, for what he was paying attention to the smallest leave. Where he was placing his feet and how his body was changing, how his muscles were flexing when he heard a twig snap- it was probably snapping under her body. It was so interesting.

"You slept?" he asked.

"Am I your kid?" she asked, looking around. "All we talk about is me eating or sleeping."

"It's cause you can't take care of yourself," he said.

"I think otherwise," she answered and looked around. "Oh, I hate it here. Just like when I was little."

Daryl looked at her with curiosity in his eyes.

"The summer camps," she explained and he nodded his head. "If I gave my heart to them, I would be just like you now, hunting squirrels."

"Nah." he shook his head. "You talk too much. The more time I spend with you, the more I'm sure that you just need to talk like others need breathing."

"Might be the truth."

Then they fell silent again, walking a couple miles- or at least that's what Charlie thought. But she was overwhelmed by the silence and her surroundings, so she opened her mouth again. "So..."

Daryl snorted. "That's what I'm talking about."

"What were you doing with Merle?"

"What do you mean?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Like in your free time." she corrected herself. "Going fishing, Playing poker. I don't know."

Daryl looked at her and scoffed. "We were doing all those things, but just to get drunk. He was making up games or other stupid shit just to get shit-face drunk. And I was getting drunk because that was the only way to bear him."

Charlie smiled "Merle was a talker."

"Actually...you two are very much lookalike," Daryl said and took a shove with a small smile. "He would punch me harder, though."

"Because that's offensive!" she chuckled. "So basically you were just drinking."

"And smoking." he shrugged. "Sometimes it was by the lake, sometimes in the house, and sometimes in some shithole," he said. "I imagine you never was in a place like that."

"Wrong." she made a funny noise. "On my twentieth birthday, I sat in a car with Zac and my friend and he just drove us to some kind of bar...I guess," she said. "That's a funny story, actually. I remember going in, but I can't recall how I managed to walk out. But Casey told me I was dancing on a table, showering in tequila, and I tried to pull out some guy double my age..." She looked at Daryl. "I think that if you lick me right now, you could still taste tequila."

"I'm not gonna lick you," Daryl answered and fastened his steps, leaving Charlie behind.

They walked and they walked and nothing was worth stopping. There was no sight of Sophia herself or any signs of her, which sucked. So when they finally came across the house that looked abandoned, she was praising the Lord. Charlie touched his arm to stop him as he was looking in a different direction. "Look,"

"Good." he nodded and she thought that she saw a faint smile on his face.

"You think she's in there?"

"I hope," he answered. "Get behind me."

Daryl entered the house first, after kicking the door open and she followed right behind him. She decided to go upstairs, so she patted his back and pointed up. As an answer, she got a nod, and without further thought she just climbed up the stairs, holding her little axe tightly.

There were four rooms and three of them she already checked. There was no sight of Sophia or anyone in general, there was no place to hide either, so she just decided to leave. As she came up to the last doors, she heard banging and she knew exactly what was behind them. That's why she prepared her axe and kicked the door open, to not come close. Immediately she faced the Walker who used to be a man before. It was snarling and trying to bite her, so she took a couple steps back. Then she saw another Walker- a woman this time.

Charlie was terrified. Everything inside was shaking and even though she wanted to call Daryl, her throat felt stuck. And she knew that there were just two options for getting out of this: bitten or alive.

"No romantic dinner this time," she mumbled under her breath and took a swing. With one swift motion, an axe was stuck in the head of the first one. She tried to take the weapon out, but it seemed to be really deep inside the skull.

She saw how the second one was sticking its hands towards her. She was observing the jaw as it was moving as the Walker was closer and closer. Charlie gave up the axe and she just took out the knife that was attached to her belt. She let the Walker grab her but pushed it a little, so it wouldn't reach her with its teeth, and then she just stabbed it in the head just like previously, but this time the blade came out smoothly. When she felt the weight of the dead and this time lifeless body in her arms, she almost gagged. With a groan, she threw the Walker from the stairs.

"You good?" Daryl asked her, as she walked down covered in blood.

"I almost panicked."

"But you killed a Walker."

"Yeah, two Walkers." she corrected him. "Are we done here?"

He nodded and looked in the direction of the kitchen. "I found a hiding spot. Small enough, so she could hide there."

"That's great." Charlie smiled. "But nothing sure?"

She sighed as he shook his head. They walked out of the house, ready to head back, but Charlie saw something. Big white flowers that she hadn't seen before entering the house.

"Sophia!"

"Daryl!" she called his name and immediately he was ready to fire from his crossbow. "Cherokee's Rose."

He looked at her a little surprised, not expecting her to know the story. Daryl saw her picking it up and handing it to him.

"I'm sure it's a sign that we're close to her. Here," she said. "Give this to Carol."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the main Sophia searcher."

The road back home was much quicker, even if it was spent in complete silence. As soon as they entered the territory of the farm, they saw their people were making themselves a home. The tents were already put up, they strained the laundry lines and created a small fire pit for a fire in the middle of the tents.

"Charlie!" she heard her name being called. She tore her eyes from the surroundings and turned them in the direction of the voice. Glenn was going in their direction, waving his hand.

"You're back already?" she asked, holding her hand to her eyes, shielding herself from the sun.

"Yes." Glenn nodded, trying to cover his giddy smile and bouncing. He looked over at Daryl awkwardly. "I have to tell you something."

"Okay. Can I wash myself? I'm dirty." she said looking down at her t-shirt covered in blood.

Glenn nodded energetically and turned to walk away. "I'll be waiting in our tent."

She was watching his happy walk with his back straightened and head high up. It had a little bounce to his step as he was strolling away. He was definitely proud of something. "He did it," said Daryl.

"Hmm?" she turned to him, not really knowing what he said, as she was too focused on watching her friend.

"Funny business with the farmer's daughter."

"What funny business?" she furrowed her brows.

"Sex."

She gasped and opened her eyes wider. She didn't think that was the issue because in her opinion Maggie had different types of men. Besides, Glenn didn't look like a guy that is sleeping around, he looked innocent and pure. There was no way that he had sex with a girl he just met. However, Daryl was a man, he knew things. "You don't know that."

He scoffed and passed her by, to talk with Carol who was in the RV.

Charlie decided to throw the shirt away because it would be a waste of time to try and wash off the blood stains. So when she cleaned her face and arms, she entered the tent and took off her top clothing- not minding Glenn just sitting there. He tossed her a clean shirt, so she could cover up.

"Everything is good? You found something?"

"Daryl found a hiding spot in a farmhouse, but...I don't know." she shrugged.

"Are you hurt?"

Charlie shook her head.

"So? What's so exciting?" she asked, sitting on her sleeping bag and soon she was glad that she did because she would most definitely faint.

Glen smirked and nodded his head like a plastic dog that would be put in a car. "I had sex."

[previous] [masterlist] [next]

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon series

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steelycunt · 1 month ago

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any song recs for end of year nostalgia? wishing you all good things xx

mull of kintyre, wings / reelin in the years, steely dan / chicago, sufjan stevens / auld lang syne, sufjan stevens / the night they drove old dixie down, the band / loves happening, the impressions / for a friend, jimmy somerville / 500 miles, the journeymen / mezzanine, declan mckenna / linger, the cranberries / i could be happy, altered images/ back to the old house, the smiths / waters of march, art garfunkel / glass, concrete and stone, david byrne / piazza, new york catcher, belle and sebastian / never going back again, fleetwood mac / ooh la la, the faces / waterloo sunset, the kinks / this is the day, the the / home again, michael kiwanuka / he was a friend of mine, bob dylan / hey jude, the beatles / mama you’ve been on my mind, jeff buckley / family and genus, shakey graves / this feeling, alabama shakes / beautiful boy, john lennon / strangers, the kinks / rose parade, elliott smith / dress up in you, belle and sebastian / in my life, the beatles

#do not question me on any of these there’s no logic i just held each in my heart and my heart said yes or no like a blind prophetic dog.#that’s it. also a lot of them are just the sound idc about lyrics. and none of them are cohesive i just hope you find something you like..#all good things to you too bab!#telegram #anon

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x3no9 · 10 months ago

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It is time for more König x Ghost. This is a look into a future chapter in my latest fic Den of Wolves. Featuring König , Nikto, Declan, Soap, Ghost, Graves , Alex and of course Makarov.

Don't worry, Ghost will end up enjoying himself immensely. König just loves his wargames.

There are many more versions of this found via the link.

Mature viewers.

Comments always welcome!

#m/m #call of duty fanart #call of duty fanfiction #animated gifs #König x ghost #konigxghost #ghostkonig

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theenemyod · 4 months ago

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At one point Declan put 37 alarm clocks on Jericho's grave to try to wake him up. He got slapped by Constantine instead.

#magisterium #declan novak #jericho madden #constantine madden

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riley-phoenix · 5 months ago

Text

Pairing: -

Canon: Real Person Fic (Arsenal FC)

Content: Reality Show, crack fic

Author's Note: There's a few references to the 2023/24 edition in this fic so you're welcome to read it before reading this one.

Summary: Ahead of the 2024/25 Season, Arsenal offers fans a look at the drama going on behind the scenes at Emirates Stadium.

Mikel woke up, stretching his arms and yawning as he basked in the yellow-orange glow of the Spanish sunrise. He looked over to his nightstand and opened the top drawer, revealing his unnecessarily large collection of hand mirrors. Mikel picked his favorite one before bringing it to his face. "I'm so handsome", he said to himself as he climbed out of bed and walked up to his calendar, observing the date circled with a bold, red marker. One week. One more week until the start of the new Premier League season.

He continued to observe the calendar, until he heard a sound coming from downstairs, someone had rung his doorbell. Mikel placed the mirror down and proceeded to walk down the stairs, he then curiously approached the door. Upon opening it, he found there was no one there. Mikel shrugged as he prepared to close the door but then something caught his eye. There was a package left on his doorstep. He cautiously took the box in his hands and brought it inside, placing it down gently on the table. Upon opening it, he found a note. It read, "Another one to add to your collection". Underneath said note, there was a bottle. A bottle with an Arsenal logo on it. Mikel's eyes filled with tears as quickly as his voice filled with rage. He fell to his knees and exclaimed with a scream full of resentment, "PAPIII!!! IT WAS NO FUNNY LAST YEAR!!! IT IS NO FUNNY THIS YEAR!!!".

Meanwhile, at the training ground...

Saka stood with his arms in his pockets, a look of mourning on his face as he stood before a pair of graves. "Tell me it gets easier", he said, as he looked to his left, where Ødegaard stood, still standing before the grave that read, "Granit Xhaka 2016-2023", as he had been doing for the entirety of last season. When he finally looked to his right, he simply uttered, "I'd be lying if I said it did". Saka nodded gloomily before turning back to the pair of headstones. They read, "Emile Smith Rowe 2018-2024" and "Eddie Nketiah 2017-2024" respectively. Fabio Vieira looked on from a distance, "Oh, bloody hell", he said to himself. "Now there's two of them", David Raya added.

"I'm so handsome. Team meetings are always so important. It's an opportunity for me to convey my thoughts about how we can improve and achieve our goals. And it's also a safe space for the players to share their opinions and feelings about everything that's been going on, there's no reason for anyone to be afraid. I'm so handsome".

"Not gonna lie, we're all scared shitless".

"Mikel really likes Kai. At first, no one thought anything of it but now it's just gotten weird. He calls him "son" , like, all the time. And I mean, he used to call all of us "son" every now and then and it didn't mean anything 'cause we were pretty sure he just meant it in a figurative way. But now I'm concerned that he may actually think Kai is his son".

Mikel approached the front of the room as everyone took a seat. "I'm so handsome. Good morning, everyone. We have a lot of important stuff to get through today, but first I have an announcement to make". Mikel pulls out a document. "After taking a DNA test, I am proud to announce that it has been medically proven, that Kai Havertz is, infact, my son". Mikel closes his eyes and puts his hands out, awaiting a round of applause that never comes. Subsequently, he pulls out his AK-47. Suddenly, the room is filled with applause, everyone has risen from their seat to give Mikel a standing ovation. While clapping, Declan Rice slowly leans towards Leandro Trossard, both with artificial smiles plastered on their faces. "Is that real?", Declan asked. "No", Leandro replied. "He just told the doctor that if he didn't sign it, Win would maul him". Mikel smiles and returns to his seat, "Thank you, thank you, I'm so handsome... And so is Kai. My son".

"So, last year, it was like, so annoying when Mikel bought Timber, 'cause like, Saliba, Gabriel and I were like, The Three Musketeers, and because he's a defender, Mikel was forcing us to play with him, but then I found out that Timber could get us free Taylor Swift tickets, so then we became friends, and now we're like... The Four Musketeers".

Ben marches angrily up and down the room. "Another defender? Another defender!? HE'S BUYING ANOTHER DEFENDER!???. Who the hell is even Ricardo California!?".

Gabriel lifts his finger, ejecting himself into the situation. "I think it's 'Calafiori'".

"I DON'T CARE!", Ben exclaims as he groans and flops himself onto his chair, falling backwards and placing his hand on his forehead.

"Ben, you might wanna see this", Timber said as he passed him his phone, showing him an Instagram post of Ricardo Calafiori giving all his friends free tickets to an Olivia Rodrigo concert.

Calafiori is doing his regular training exercises when Ben White pulls up next to him in his Ferrari. "Get in loser, we're going shopping", Ben says as Ricardo shrugs and climbs into the car. He sits in the backseat, next to Gabriel, who hands him a shirt. "On Wednesdays we wear the away kit".

"The amount of pressure Mikel is putting on the strikers this season is actually working out really well for us defenders. I've had a lot of time to relax recently and Tomi has been teaching me a thing or two about meditation".

Zinchenko and Tomiyasu stand side-by-side on long, wooden stumps, both balancing on one foot. They have their palms together and are taking deep breaths with their eyes closed. Both men then slowly reach out, extending their arms into a Karate Kid-inspired crane pose before transitioning into scissor kicks.

Meanwhile, Mikel is prepping the strikers for the upcoming season. "I'm so handsome. Last season, we came very close to winning the league, but once again we were just short. I want every single one of you to be on your A-game and ready to score 20+ goals, so I've put together this obstacle course to see how far along you've come". Mikel presses a button and some cardboard cutouts pop up onto the training pitch. "Martinelli, you're up first".

Martinelli effortlessly glides past all the cutouts, when one suddenly moves on a swivel, he's unfazed, doing a roulette around it and moving forward. As he approaches the goal, the goalkeeper cutout moves forward, but Martinelli simply chips the ball, allowing it to smoothly glide into the net.

"Decent. But I've seen better", said Mikel. "Next, Jesus".

Gabriel Jesus stepped up, controlling the ball as it's lobbed to him, he then proceeds to run forward. When the cardboard defenders start to close in, Jesus nutmegs one, then another one, then fakes left and goes right, then dribbles another one. As he approaches the goal, ten more cutouts pop up and form a wall with no gaps Infront of the goalkeeper. Jesus chips the ball high into the air, turns around, does a backflip over the wall, and catches the ball on it's journey back down, sending it into the net with a bicycle kick.

He falls to the floor and exasperatedly looks over to Mikel, seeking his approval.

"Eh", Mikel says as he shrugs. "Now let Kai show you how it's done. He is going to help us beat my Papi, his Grandpapi, and win the Premier League!". He gives Havertz a cheerful pat on the back. "Go get 'em son!", he says excitedly as Kai steps up to the starting point.

As Kai receives the ball, all the cardboard cutouts, including the goalkeeper, retract. Kai kicks the ball from halfway across the field, and watches it roll slowly into the net. As it does, Mikel starts jumping around and screaming in a celebratory manner, "I'm so handsome. I think it's only appropriate, that for a moment of such brilliant skill, we pair it with equally brilliant commentary". Mikel reveals a tape recorder and hits the play button, on the tape, is the iconic voice of Peter Drury. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a moment of unbridled talent. A second coming for a man, who, despite doubt, despite ostracization and exclusion, emerged from the shadows to revel in a level of brilliance previously unheard of. Once, dressed in blue, feeling blue, now, unequivocally, undeniably, red hot. Kai Havertz: Reborn... There I said it, now please, let my family go--". Mikel quickly turns the recorder off.

"Towards the end of our time in Spain, when we were getting ready to go back to London for the start of the new season, I was using the public computer when I stumbled upon an open tab. It was pictures of Mikel... NUDE pictures of Mikel!".

"How else did you think we were going to fund the Mikel Merino transfer. I'm so handsome".

Mikel stands at the entrance to the plane as he counts heads. "Alright everyone, time to get back to the UK". he waits patiently for everyone to board before taking a seat himself. "We didn't forget anyone, did we?", Kiwior asked . "No, not that I can think of", said Mikel.

As the plane took off and left the runway, Aaron Ramsdale stepped out of the bathroom. "Guys... Guys?... Where is everyone?".

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Tags: @colorsofmyseason

#arsenal #coyg #premier league #arsenal fc #fanfiction #fanfic #rpf #real person fic #england #gunners #gooners #Arsenal fanfiction #Arsenal fanfic

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