#katrina ruins everything

[tomthefanboy]

Ahem... the 1970s?

i do think the classic doctors had a low-level element of genderfuckery going on in a like. you know that post about characters who are technically 100% gender conforming but in a way that's so intense it kind of loops back around? it's kind of like that.

[rubythecrimsonwriter]

As someone who has lived in the south where the water trough is anywhere from mildly annoying to actively terrifying, who has lived on a fairly decently sized island where it is indeed absolutely terrifying to be cut off from the mainland suddenly with little to no help from the government for an extended period of time--

After No Man's Land and all the issues that arose then, I'd like to propose the new way of interring their dead would be mausoleums. Possibly especially with Gotham canonically existing on a system of caves. An island made of caves on the East Coast that gets battered by hurricanes almost every year is just asking to get sunk a la Atlantis but its fucking Gotham and i think the Gothamites would raise it from the sea floor again out of sheer spite.

But with mausoleums you:

Dont have your son crawling six feet through packed dirt after inexplicably coming back to life

Dont have long buried coffins and corpses getting flooded/shaken/otherwise disturbed and shunted into the water system/streets/underground reservoirs (or Lazarus Pits, since there's one of those down there too, as if Gotham didn't have enough things wrong with it)

Continues the Gotham aesthetic

Have more places for various characters to have a private mental breakdown in

Have more places for various characters to find ominous warnings etched or graffiti'd on the walls

Have more places for things much older than the mausoleums have been En Vogue™ for to inexplicably appear and send shivers down the spine

The Gothamites are very firm about not really being part of the US. The US kind of looks at the South like we're really fucking strange, and the South looks at New Orleans like they've taken the South and concentrated it, carbonated it, and shook it really hard.

I want the same vibes for Gotham. This is their home. They are weird and stubborn to a fault and everything is on fire and the government is corrupt and the people aren't always good but nobody else understands. No one else ever could. Who else has seen the lights for rescue appear on the horizon only to see the light of death on the waters, ensuring no help would ever come? They are resourceful and violent and resentful but the gods won't help you if you cross one of their own.

[coyotelip]

starchaser microfic: dead & veil || @into-the-jeggyverse @stag-microfic || wc: 624

“Reggie, Reggie!” a loud child's voice bursts into the kitchen before Harry's small form could get there. “Daddy is dead!”

Regulus sighs heavily, putting the knife aside before turning to face Harry, who is bouncing on his heels with excitement. The boy tries to hide his amused smile, but he does a poor job. Fake antennae for his bee costume stick out of his dark hair and wiggle along with Harry.

Wanting to play along with the child, Regulus throws his hands in the air and feigns fear, “Oh goddess, this can't be happening! Take me to him quickly.” Without making much effort, the man's voice sounds fake, but it's enough for the four-year-old to make Harry jump up, grab Regulus by the wrist, and lead him into the living room.

As he passed the windows, Regulus glanced over at several figures in the backyard, Sirius, Lily, Remus, and Marlene all trying to figure out the complicated tent structure. Once again, Regulus was glad that he had the task of making the cake instead of pretending to be an engineer.

Meanwhile, Harry is holding onto his hand and pulling him along with all his might, which makes Regulus smile slightly. However, he quickly hides his smile when they arrive at their destination. Just in the doorway between the corridor and the living room is indeed the body of James Potter.

His bare legs stick out from under the once white, but now dirty skirt of his wedding dress. Blue flowers are visible in places on the skirt, leading to the waist and a tight corset that emphasizes James' beautiful form. The corset hugs his chest tightly, but his broad manly shoulders are bare and covered with dirt and fake blood. And Regulus wants to finally see that makeup-covered face, but the man's head is covered by the bride's veil.

This time, Regulus tries to hold back his laughter. Of course, he knew that James had gotten a piece of paper with the Corpse of the Bride on it during the draw, but seeing the man in this costume was completely different.

“Oh, Harry, what are we going to do now,” Regulus said intentionally louder than necessary, clutching his cheeks like a character in a Munch painting. “I guess James is not going to get his portion of carrot cake now. What a shame, it was his favorite…” He looks up to the ceiling as he plays his part, but tries not to let James out of his sight, not to miss him holding back his laughter.

“It was so unexpected!” Harry exclaims overly dramatically, waving his arms.

“What do we do now, just what do we do?” Regulus points to the door leading to the backyard. “Harry, you need to go get your mommy and Sirius right away, I can't deal with the body alone.”

And Harry, the obedient and responsible boy that he is, rushes to the door, calling out the names of the others on his way. He can't wait to bring the others to the scene of the crime (his little childhood prank), who will obviously play along with the growing marauder.

Without wasting any more time, Regulus crouches right next to James' head, adjusting his own red Katrina skirt. Carefully lifting the veil from the man's face, he meets his broad smile and the sparkle in bronze eyes.

“I'm actually excited about the carrot cake,” James whispers without moving.

“But now you're gonna have to work for it.” Regulus whispers back with the smile of an evil genius who has just robbed him of everything he holds dear. “I hope the joke was worth it.” Regulus gently touches James' cheek in a light kiss, careful not to ruin their makeup.

[cobrakaisb]

harry, it's christmas eve

summary: you spend the holiday with annabeth and luke, solidifying your position in their family. 

word count: 684

series masterlist ||| set pre-tlt |||    

“can you stop pacing? it’s giving me a headache,” katrina complains from her spot on your bed. 

you look over at her, still chewing on your thumb nail. katrina, as much as she claims to be, is clearly not impacted by your stress. she’s laying on her back, taking up the entirety of your small bunk, while she throws a ball up in the air, catching it right before it hits her face. 

“sorry i’m just nervous,” you answer, smoothing your hands over your jeans.

“for what?” she asks, finally dropping the ball onto the sheets. 

you huff, hands resting on your hips, “you know why.” 

“i don’t actually. luke is your boyfriend, who loves and cherishes you, probably a little too much in my opinion,” she starts with a teasing smile on her face. you shove her shoulder before she can continue, “and you’ve met annabeth a hundred times.” 

“this is different,” you insist, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

katrina mumbles something under her breath, but you don’t quite catch it. she sits up now, completely facing you as her hand rests on your thigh. you two sit there in silence; her with a knowing look and you with an anxious one. 

“she’s going to love them. even if she’s read them all,” katrina smirks, dodging your punch. 

“okay i’m leaving! have fun playing family with your little boyfriend!” she shouts, slamming the cabin door on her way out.

you wheeze out a laugh, shaking your head at katrina’s antics. while katrina was right about you knowing luke and annabeth, that didn’t change your feelings about tonight. luke always celebrates christmas with annabeth, just the two of them, and the fact that they extended the invitation to you was a big deal. it makes everything between you and luke real; they want you to be a part of their family. that thought makes you nervous. 

you take a deep breath, hoping to shake the nerves. it doesn’t work, but you still grab the two wrapped presents and your winter coat before leaving the safety of your cabin. you trudge across the snowy grounds of camp towards the dining pavilion, where luke and annabeth are most likely already waiting for you. 

“there you are! we were worried you weren’t going to show,” luke shouts as you walk into the warm area. 

luke takes the presents from your hands, allowing you to take off your jacket. you take the gifts back from him, and he places a gentle kiss on your cheek, hand resting on the bottom of your back as he leads you towards annabeth. 

the table she’s sitting at is set for three. there’s a variety of snacks, like cosmic brownies and capri suns, but nothing extremely fancy. it’s casual, which helps you relax. 

“i knew she’d show up,” annabeth smiles, as you and luke sit down. 

no one says anything after that, and everything feels tense for some reason. you look around the table, eyes landing on the deck of uno cards. you reach for them, absentmindedly shuffling the cards. annabeth and luke watch you with curiosity, especially when you start dealing out the cards. 

“let’s play a round,” you say, putting the rest of the cards in the middle of you. 

annabeth agrees, already calculating her next three moves as she looks over her cards. luke picks up his cards, removing his hand from your back to hide his cards. the game starts, and so does the competitive atmosphere, but it helps you relax. everything feels normal, all your previous nerves diminished as you argue with annabeth about whether or not you can place a draw four on top of hers and make luke draw eight. 

the moment is perfect. luke wishes it could stay like this forever, but the gravity and seriousness of what he’s done weighs heavy on his mind. he’s pretty sure you’ll follow him, support him through everything, but he struggles to articulate his plan to you. and seeing you laugh with annabeth, his sister, he’s not sure if he wants to ruin that yet.

[maxsimagination]

𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 - 𝗸.𝗰𝗼𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆-𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀

summary: kyra and yn both like each other and only start to make loves after charli becomes a pest.

𖦹 masterlist

"𝗦𝗢 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗔𝗥𝗘 you and kyra gonna start dating?"

i was caught completely off guard at that statement by charli. "huh?" all the eloquence left my body when i responded. "you and kyra. we all see it. you two make heart eyes behind the others' back all the time."

i could feel the blush creep onto my cheeks and around the nape of my neck. "i don't know what you're on about." it came out as a mumble but charli heard me.

"yn i can see you blushing. can you just ask her out already? the amount of times i've had to listen to her harp on about you is giving me headaches." i didn't know what to say to that either. "she talks about me?" charli looked dumbfounded that i picked up that piece of information out of everything else.

"yes, now can you please go and kiss her to shut her up?"

"you first. i'm not kissing anybody." it was then that kyra herself came over to join us, and had caught the last bit of what i had said. "who's kissing who?" "nothing, no one." i immediately shut it down and charli couldn't seem to find anything funnier. "so i'm gonna go now.." charli started to walk off.

"charlotte layne grant!" my voice held a warning for her that she knew she cop later. she didn't seem to care tho and ran off with a cheeky grin on her face.

me and kyra were left there, the latter not knowing what was going on. "what the fuck?" kyra whispered out at what had just occurred in front of her. "charli likes to screw around with us." i attempted to explain to my best friend of 5 years. a grin broke out on her face as she understood what i was trying to say.

"you got that right. wanna go to lunch with me?" i agreed happily and we headed for her car. what we didn't know was that charli had recruited katrina and they were both watching us from afar.

we went out to a local cafe and i took a seat at a table while kyra went up to order for the both of us; we did this together that often that she knew what i liked off by heart. she came to sit back down and the food followed soon after. we couldn't eat too much because we had training later on in the day.

it was a comfortable silence when we ate, and small talk about anything and everything when we weren't. i just felt so comfortable around her, she was the one thing in my life that i would sacrifice everything for, even my career.

we were in the middle of talking about something we'd both seen on the media, i had pulled out my phone to show kyra, and i saw her looking at me in the corner of my eye. as charli would have put it, she was making 'heart eyes' at me.

i thought back to the conversation i had with the young blonde earlier and her words echoed in my head. 'we all see it.' and 'you both make heart eyes at each other when the other isn't looking.' it got me thinking that maybe i should take that next step, maybe i should take a risk and ask her out.

my anxiety pulled my mind back down to reality, reminding myself of what could happen if she in fact didn't like me like that. everything would be ruined, the team dynamic and the bond we have going for over 5 years. and everyone would know. that's the last thing i needed. i looked back up to kyra who had just finished her food while i, on the other hand, was only halfway due to my daydreaming about the girl sitting opposite me.

"whatcha thinking about?" you. "oh nothing. just got distracted by something outside." i lied through my teeth to her face, i couldn't tell her now. i needed to at least get through training. then if she hated me i could pack up and move to england again.

we finished up, more like i finished while kyra waited patiently, then paid for the food and went back to the hotel the matilda's were staying in. i didn't even bother to go to my room, it was always one of us in the others room and this time it was my turn.

i flopped on her bed, starfishing in the middle, and taking up all the space. "yn move, i wanna lie down too." i shuffled over and held my arms out for her to fall into. she did just that, falling down onto me face first. we stayed like that for god knows how long before i checked the time and had a mini heart attack that we would be late. "i don't wanna leave."

"if we don't go, tony will skin us and drop us off the team." my tone was serious but my face betrayed how i felt.

with a groan she got off me and i grabbed my phone to go get changed in my room. "i'll come back to get you." i called out behind me and closed the door. as soon as i got into my own room i grabbed the first pair of any training gear i saw, changed the quickest i've ever changed and headed back to kyra's room.

it had only been 5 minutes, tops, so i knocked before hearing a barley audible 'come in!' and opening the door. kyra poked her head out from the bathroom and grinned at me. "geez, your quick. that desperate to get back to me, huh?"

i rolled my eyes at her antics, "you wish, ky." i shot back at her. "hurry up, let's go." she yelled back saying she was coming then ran back out to get her shoes on. we left to head down to the field where training was held. when we walked in together, both katrina and charli raised their eyebrows at me in a teasing manner.

i just flipped them off discreetly, trying not to catch kyra's attention.

——

we had just finished doing the last lap tony had ordered and i flopped onto the ground. the other girls were walking around, everyone was sweating their asses off and some had gone to the changing rooms already. kyra came over and stood above me with a sweaty grin.

“are you dead yet?"

"shut up, ky."

i managed to get out. she held her hands out for me to take and i did. when she pulled me up i came face to face, only an inch away from her. our hands had instinctively gone to my waist and her neck.

my eyes flicked down to her lips then back up to her eyes, just in time to see her doing the same to me. i thought back to charli and decided fuck it. "ky, do you wanna be my girlfriend?" it was silent for a second then kyra broke it and kissed me. i reacted instantly, kissing back and pulling her tighter against me.

she did the same with her arms around my waist, one of her hands trailing down to my ass, just resting there. we pulled apart and breathed heavily before i spoke up.

"so i'll take that as a yes?" before she could respond there was a shout from across the field. "finally!" it was katrina and charli, the latter being the one that yelled. "i knew you could do it yn!" while katrina just stood their smirking, even throwing out a wolf whistle. i shook my head at the two and turned back to kyra.

we grinned at each other and i whispered,

"finally."

[bymywill]

since murtagh is always trying to distract himself with writing poetry and thinking about magic, i really think he should take up knitting.

it starts with a replacement for the riding sweater that was ruined in bachel’s village, but it quickly turns out to be wayyyy too complicated for a first project, so one of thorn’s saddlebags is now stuffed full with a tangled nest of itchy yarn in a shape that could almost resemble a half-completed sweater. murtagh refuses to acknowledge it, think about it, or throw it out, because even if it’s shit, it was a lot of work. it remains there for years.

eragon gets socks for the winter holidays and is OVERJOYED. he wears them every day for a week until murtagh yells at him for being gross and not changing his clothes.

ismira gets baby socks! they are quick to make and katrina treasures them above everything in the world. she’s heartbroken when ismira eventually outgrows them.

roran gets heavy mittens for the cold carvahall winters, and he repairs them and repairs them until they’re almost unrecognisable, like a horrible theseus ship of yarn. (katrina gets matching mittens. it’s very cute).

nasuada is starting to wonder why she never gets any handmade gifts from murtagh and is secretly a bit peeved about it, but in reality it’s because murtagh views her as wayyyyy too beautiful and glamorous for his crude creations. after she finally mentions it, murtagh picks out a beautiful deep red silk/merino yarn and makes her a scarf. she wears it every winter and makes sure to create her winter outfits around it.

murtagh still doesn’t have a god damn riding sweater.

[sirfrogsworth]

I guess I'm going to Florida.

Not until December, but I am looking forward to my first plane ride ever.

I know a lot of people hate air travel, but ever since I took a helicopter tour of Branson I have been obsessed with flying. I was just a kid, but my little mind was blown seeing the world from that high up. I've been dying to have another experience like that and I just never got the opportunity.

So I don't really care if it is the worst flight in the world on the worst airline ever, as long as I get to look out that window at the world below, everything else is trivial.

Although I did get the big seats.

Which means I probably won't be getting new tires right away. Sooooo... let's try not to think too hard about that. (Feel free to donate to the tire fund. Or not.)

But that should help make things more comfortable as I stare out the window for 3 hours.

Also, I GET TO SEE MY BEST FRIEND!

I mean, how cute are we?

I was pretty upset because the last time Katrina came to visit me I got extremely sick. I had a horrible reaction to some medication and I was unable to enjoy our visit at all.

Her visit was not long after my mom died and I was taking care of my dad full time and I was so overwhelmed and all I had to keep me going at the time was the thought that I would get to see my favorite person. And my stupid body just ruined it. Aside from my parents passing, I don't remember the last time I was that devastated. The timing was just so cruel. She arrived late at night and I got sick the next morning. I was legit traumatized by that horrible luck.

But now my friends no longer have to come to me. Now that my caregiving duties are over, I can go see them. And I am determined to spend some quality time with my bestie without getting sick this time.

Hopefully I can go see Delling after the new year. We did have a nice visit after my dad died, but I'd love to see them under better circumstances.

I mean, how cute are we?

I just have an endless supply of the most adorable friends.

AND I MUST FLY TO THEM!

[copperboom82]

Home Sweet Home

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (female)

Word Count: 9,439

Prompt: Broken promises

Title credit: Home Sweeet Home by Mötley Crüe

Summary: Still navigating the transition from friends to something more, Dean and Katrina's relationship faces a new hurdle after Dean and Sam find the Men of Letters Bunker - distance. How will they cope? Will Dean's birthday be the impetus they need to reconnect?

Set mid-season 8. Set in the Long Winding Roads collection (masterlist here), but can absolutely be read on its own.

AN: Hello! This is my third submission for @jacklesversebingo and my contribution to celebrate Dean's birthday.

Warnings: Contains smut, 18+ only. Minors DNI. Other than that? Uhh not sure - I guess there's some angst? Not a ton. Has a happy ending. Established relationship. If I missed anything, feel free to let me know.

Credit/Link: Divider by cafekitsune and can be found here!

Dean Winchester had no illusions about what he was. He’d grown up thinking that his life had been changed forever when the yellow-eyed-demon had killed his mother and ruined the only home he’d ever known at four years old. Now, as an adult, he knew that his fate had been inevitable. Between his mom’s family, the great plans that had been preordained for him and Sam – even if they had managed to subvert expectations – and now, most recently, the revelation about the legacy his father was…

No, Dean knew by this point in his life that Team Free Will or not, hunting had always been his path. As sure as he was that, whenever his time came, he’d die bloody with a gun in his hand. 

It was a life he had largely embraced, at least most of the time. That moment – him standing by his dad at sixteen, watching a monster burn while Sam waited in the car – was still seared into his brain. In his best times, Dean remembered it as the moment the pieces had really fallen into place for him, everything clicking and feeling… right. At his lowest, it was a moment in his past he questioned, wondering if it had truly felt right, or if he’d psyched himself into feeling that way because it was what he’d needed to do, to survive if nothing else.

It was in those low moments he let himself wonder if he’d have enjoyed a “normal” life… wonder what it might have been like and try to picture it. Until Lisa and Ben.

After Lisa and Ben, Dean had made himself a promise. No more wondering. No more longing. No more questioning. It was too dangerous – for him and for everyone around him.

You’re not a person, Bobby had told him on that last case, in his very Bobby way, when Dean had been spinning out despite the vow he’d made. You’re a hunter, meaning you’re whatever the job you’re doing today. Now, you get a case of the Anne Sextons, something’s gonna come up behind you and rip your fool head off. Now, you find your reasons to get back in the game.

It wasn’t long after that Dean found his new way of coping with the lows - mentally repeating Frank’s advice and trying to take it to heart instead of indulging the wistful part of his brain.

Decide to be fine till the end of the week. Make yourself smile because you're alive and that's your job. Then do it again the next week… I call it being professional. Do it right, with a smile, or don’t do it.

That shit had stuck with him in a way Dean hadn’t expected. Frank had Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, but damn if it hadn’t been what he’d need to hear. And damn if it hadn’t helped him stick to his promise.

Katrina Black, of course, was somewhat of a complication.

It was midday when Dean found himself calling up her number, juggling three coffees in his other hand as he moved the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.

“You better not be calling for the reason I think you’re calling,” she answered, and Dean was torn between smirking at the quip and frowning, knowing he was about to disappoint her.

“C’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

Katrina Black had been a royal pain in his ass at first – an unwanted, unwelcome addition to his found family when he stepped back into hunting that only reminded him of that year. The year that belonged in someone else’s life, that had been some weird mix of wonderful and excruciating that, to this day, Dean couldn’t wholly make sense of. But she’d grown on him, quickly, and soon enough, he’d gone from being driven crazy by her to being crazy about her.

“Don’t pull that sweetheart crap with me, Winchester.”

Dean sighed, bracing himself for the conversation to come, and began explaining the latest to her.

It’d been a few months since they’d gotten together. Dean had done his best to keep his distance – they both had… but in the end, he hadn’t been able to keep pretending. Not after Purgatory. Not after losing Cas, again. Not after spending so much time thinking he’d never see her again. Not after realizing how much he’d regretted those self-imposed boundaries they’d created when they’d taken for granted they’d have a tomorrow.

Overall, it had been going well. She’d been scared. Hell, he had been too. But it had been for nothing. Once the truth was out there, their cards on the table, the two of them had fallen together without missing a step. Somehow, they’d managed to find the excitement and heat of something new, while getting to take solace in a relationship that felt as comfortable and familiar as a well-worn flannel. The fact that she was in the life? That she understood what his life was? Dean couldn’t have asked for more. He could be with her without breaking that promise he’d made to himself. Kat already knew that he couldn’t give her normal, just like Dean knew she couldn’t give it to him either.

It was great. It was the best of both worlds.

Until his grandfather came crashing through the closet door and Dean found his world sort of turned on its head… yet again.

“I’m sorry, you’re stuck dealing with what?”

Dean huffed out a humorless laugh and turned the keys in the ignition, leaning back into the bench seat as the Impala rumbled to life.

“Nazi necromancers,” he repeated. There was a beat of silence and then he heard Katrina sigh into the phone.

“You couldn’t make that up if you tried,” she said, and that time, Dean really did laugh. The disappointment underlying her voice made the guilt in his gut churn, but he tried to push that down.

“Trust me, Kat. Considering the weekend we had planned? This is the last thing I want to be dealin’ with.”

Henry Winchester jumping through time to magically appear in his and Sam’s motel room had revealed a lot of information and introduced all kinds of new… things… into their life – Abbadon, Knights of Hell, Men of Letters…

Of those things, the Men of Letters bunker and the key that went with it had been the biggest find. Initially, Dean had been in awe… still was, if he were being honest. But as the weeks drew on, the newness of it was wearing thin, and Dean was starting to see the downsides. Chiefly one downside:

The bunker, wonderful as it was, was located over six hours away from Katrina’s house. And unlike him and Sam, Katrina couldn’t just pick up and disappear. Not indefinitely, anyway.

It had been weeks since they’d seen each other – longer, if he didn’t count the hour or two he’d taken to say goodbye as he and Sam had packed their stuff to head to Lebanon and check things out… and he really didn’t.

At this point, Dean had started to lose track of how many times their plans had gotten derailed, but he thought this was at least the fifth. It wasn’t all on him – Katrina had been on the other side of this same call at least twice – but that didn’t make it any easier.

Part of him thought it might not have been so hard if he hadn’t been so used to seeing her all the time. Outside of Purgatory, she’d been a near constant presence in his life for years, even before they’d decided to try this whole relationship thing a shot. Then there was the voice in his head that nagged at him, reminding him that the distance had been hard with Lisa too, but nothing like this. He hadn’t found himself constantly thrumming with a need that he just couldn’t satisfy.

Of course, Dean was still trying to convince himself he was fine. That it was no big deal. Even if the situation was slowly driving him insane.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Don’t do that,” she admonished, though there was no real heat in her voice. “Don’t promise. That’s what you did last time. That’s what we keep doing.”

It was true, but that only made it harder to swallow. The fact that she wasn’t angry somehow made it worse too. Dean could have handled angry… but the quiet disappointment… the understanding in her voice, laced with a wistfulness he related to all too well… it was threatening to undo him.

“Kat –“

“It’s fine, Dean. Really. I get it… you know that.”

This thing between him and Kat had felt so natural, had fit so easily into his day-to-day, that Dean hadn’t realized until recently how comfortable he’d been getting. That despite the promise he’d made himself, when he hadn’t been paying attention, somewhere in his subconscious he had started wanting at least some part of normal again.

He missed her. But it wasn’t just the obvious stuff he missed. It was the little things he hadn’t realized how much he cared about. It was hearing about her day when she wasn’t working a case and she got home from work, or helping her do the dishes before they went to bed. He missed their bickering, whether it was over the music on the radio or which cereal to buy at the grocery store. Hell, he missed listening to her and Sam nerd out over old lore and whatever books they’d been reading.

“Yeah, I do. I’m still sorry. How’s about I swing back your way when we wrap up? Should hopefully only be a coupla days.”

He knew the answer before he’d asked, and her disappointed sigh only confirmed it.

“We’re shorthanded next week and I’m pulling doubles almost every day. Maybe the week after.”

“Yeah, alright,” he agreed, unable to hide his own disappointment, and the silence hung between them.

“You and Sam alright out there? I could probably come help.”

But as much as he wanted to see her, Dean knew it would be a waste. They were practically on the other side of the country, and to fly would cost her money she didn’t have, to drive would be too much time, and all for a situation he and Sam could manage without her. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Sammy and I got this one covered. Though if you’ve ever heard of something called the Thule Society, I’m all ears.”

She hadn’t, of course, though Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he heard from her by the end of the day with some information he and Sam had failed to dig up. A minute later, he found himself reluctantly hanging up the phone and navigating back onto the road, heading back to Sam and their golem sized nazi problem. The only thing he could hope was that next week would be better. 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

It was around the same time the following week that Dean found himself picking up his own phone, this time on the receiving end of a very similar call.

“Don’t tell me,” he started and this time he heard Kat let out a frustrated sigh.

“Jenna was in a car accident… she’s fine, but I gotta go out and help get everything taken care of.”

Dean felt his stomach drop as he automatically sat up straighter in his seat. Jenna was Katrina’s younger sister - finishing her last year of college and the reason Kat worked as hard as she did.

“Jesus. What happened? You sure she’s alright?”

“Yeah. She’ll need a day or two in the hospital, but the kid’s tough, she’ll be fine. There was a deer. She swerved… rolled the car…”

They’d known each other long enough that Dean could hear through the gruff, almost dismissive tone Katrina was putting on. He was sure that Jenna was in fact fine, but he was equally sure that his girlfriend was rattled anyway.

“Kat, let me come help. You don’t need to handle this on your own. That’s stupid.”

In the background he could hear Kat moving around… drawers being opened, things being moved, but she paused, and Dean could easily envision her standing in the middle of her room, phone to her ear with that stubborn look on her face.

“I… no, really, Dean. I’ve got it. You don’t need to rush out there too. I’ve gotta deal with insurance and the car -“

“You tellin’ me I can’t help with a car?” he asked, and that at least earned him a snort of laughter.

“Sounds like it’s totaled,” Katrina admitted, “and we both know the thing wasn’t worth much to begin with. But if you wanna help me find her a new one when she’s outta there I’ll take you up on that.”

There was no arguing Jenna’s car probably wasn’t worth salvaging - Dean had been trying to convince her and Katrina to let him help them find her something else since before he and Kat had started dating.

“Consider it done,” he promised. “But seriously, Kat. Let me meet you at the hospital or something.”

Katrina took a deep breath and Dean frowned. That fierce independence he loved so much also drove him batshit sometimes.

“Thanks, but you stay put. I’m sure you and Sam got your hands full, anyway, and I can handle this. But I promise I’ll call if I need you? How’s that? And next weekend, I’m all yours.”

It wasn’t much, but for Katrina it was progress and Dean knew it was the best he was going to get for the moment. 

“Only if that’s a real promise,” he told her, just as Sam was walking into the room. Katrina laughed, and he was happy to hear it sounded genuine. 

“It is, really. And I’m sorry about this. I… I miss you. And I know this has been hard.”

Hard was an understatement, but there was no part of him that didn’t understand.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Take care of what you need to, I’m not going anywhere.”

When they hung up a minute later Sam was giving him a knowing look, tinged with sympathy.

“Trina cancel on you again?” he asked while Dean dropped the phone onto the table and leaned back in his chair. His packed bag sat mocking him atop the table in the war room, just visible from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah.”

There was a part of him - a big part - that was saying go anyway, regardless of what Katrina had said. She’d give him shit, but she wouldn’t actually be pissed, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to figure out where Jenna was and surprise her. It wasn’t exactly the reunion either of them had been picturing, and he knew she truly didn’t need him there… but Dean sort of figured it wasn’t just about pure need. Since he’d met her, Katrina had been there for him without question… had managed to make him feel, even if it was only in small moments, like the weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders, and his alone. He wanted to be able to do that for her, even if it was just being a warm body she could hold at night and lending a sympathetic ear. 

Before he could put his thoughts into action, however, Sam was nodding and putting the laptop down on the table.

“That sucks, man. Probably for the best though. Check this out.”

And a few minutes later, Dean was reluctantly repacking his bag to head to Omaha instead of Boulder and heading for the Impala with Sam in tow instead of by himself. Duty called, and he and Kat would have to try again next week. 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Of course, the next weekend was just as much of a bust as the string of weekends behind it had been, and so Katrina found herself forming a new plan and dialing a different Winchester than the one she normally called on these days. 

“Hey Trina!” Sam answered on the third ring, his voice bright if not a bit surprised. That made her stomach twist just a bit with guilt. “How’s Je-”

“Jenna’s fine,” she cut him off, “but I’ve only got a minute and I need your help. You alone?”

As much tension as there’d been between Sam and Dean since Dean’s return from Purgatory, she and Sam had been having their own issues even longer… since those days immediately after taking out Dick Roman had kicked Dean and Cas into Purgatory in the first place. It wasn’t something they talked about, and they had an unspoken agreement to keep those issues between them and not involve Dean. And for the most part it was… fine. They still got along. There was just that underlying tension… the ever-present risk that one of them would say the wrong thing, or accidentally jab at one of the scabs left from those arguments they’d had while Dean was gone. 

Still, tension or not, Sam was family, and Katrina knew she could count on him, just like he could still count on her. And as they talked, Katrina made a mental note that maybe when she eventually got to Lebanon, it was time for the two of them to have a conversation about it. They’d both been putting it off, neither of them looking forward to the inevitable confrontation and the memory of their last one still unpleasantly vivid, but it had been long enough. Letting it continue to fester wasn’t doing anyone any good. 

For the moment, however, Katrina explained her plan, or the basics of it, anyway - that she’d taken off a couple days of work for Dean’s birthday, that she hadn’t told him, and that she was hoping Sam would help her pull it off both by making sure he and Dean actually stayed at this super secret bunker of theirs instead of seeking out any more last minute cases - as he’d been so prone to doing lately. And, of course, she’d need his help actually finding the bunker too, since she hadn’t been there yet. For half a second, she debated sharing more, but decided it wasn’t necessary. There was part of her that worried the second part of her plan was colossally stupid, but the wheels were already in motion, and if it was, she didn’t need to hear it more than once. The rejection from Dean would be enough. 

“Trina, you know birthdays aren’t exactly Dean’s thing, right?” Sam ventured carefully after he agreed to help, and even though he couldn’t see her, Katrina rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, but c’mon. It’s not like I’m talking about throwing him a party or anything. I just wanna see him. And every time we’ve tried to make a plan since you two moved out there, something’s gone wrong… so I figured I’d try surprising him. And his birthday seemed like as good an excuse as any.”

“Well, trust me,” Sam chuckled, “He’ll be glad to see you. There’s no disputing that. He’s been pretty miserable.” 

And there was a sort of wistful quality to his voice that made Katrina wonder if he was thinking of Amelia. That subject, however, was a gateway to ones she didn’t have time to broach right then and there. She’d ask him how he was doing with all of that after they talked. 

“He’s not the only one,” Katrina admitted instead. 

“You guys are really serious about giving this a shot, huh,” Sam mused and Katrina chewed on her bottom lip, nervously fiddling with the bottom button of her sweater.

“Yeah, Sam. It’s… I… I know that it’s a little crazy, but -”

“You don’t have to justify it to me, Treen. It was a long time coming with you two, and I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, Sam,” she said, touched by the sincerity in his voice. There wasn’t more time for conversation after that, though - her break was up and she could already see through the glass door that she was needed.

Two days later, Katrina was relieved to be in her Jeep, a case of beer, a cherry pie, and her packed bag in the seat behind her with what she hoped would make for a decent birthday gift tucked inside it. True to his word, Sam had kept in touch with her and had avoided getting him and Dean sucked into any new cases, and Dean was still none the wiser that she was coming. All that was left was the six hour drive… which, with the radio going, was no problem for Katrina. She’d done a lot more for a lot less. 

It was early evening by the time she pulled up to a nondescript, abandoned looking building, but the Impala parked outside and Sam’s tall form standing to the side of the gravel roadway let her know she was in the right spot. He was pulling her into a bear hug, one that she gladly returned, before her car door had even closed. It was so cold outside the comfort of her car that her breath hung in the air in front of her, and she regretted leaving her coat on the passenger seat inside.

“You made it!” Sam was saying as he pulled her in.

“Did you doubt me?” she scoffed, and Sam laughed.

“Sorry, I should have known better,” and as he pulled away, he was raising his hands in mock surrender. “‘S not like you’ve had to cancel a whole bunch lately, or anything. How was the drive?”

Katrina gave an affectionate roll of her eyes and shrugged, all the while trying not to shiver. Sam, seeming to notice, was already moving to the rear driver’s side door.

“Easy,” she answered. “No traffic. The fact that it’s a random-ass Saturday in January probably helped. How’s everything here?” 

“Fine.” Sam went to grab everything from the backseat, but Katrina took the bag and the pie, refusing to not help with something. “Dean’s been in his room for the past hour or so, doing God knows what, so have fun with that. But come on, let’s get you inside. You look like you’re freezing.”

Katrina followed him inside without complaint, though when they finally walked through the heavy metal door, her jaw dropped of its own accord. 

In the weeks they’d spent apart, Dean had told her plenty about the defunct Men of Letters bunker that he and Sam had gained access to, but she realized in that moment that it was unlikely any amount of talking could have prepared her for the reality. Sam led her down the wrought iron staircase and her eyes were darting everywhere, taking in the table with the map sitting center stage of the room they were heading for, the radios and phones lining the walls, and most impressively, the beautiful library visible beyond that first room - filled with books, and artefacts, sturdy wooden tables and comfortable looking chairs… it was a hell of a lot nicer than her house, and surprisingly immaculate, considering how long it had been abandoned.

“Damn,” she breathed out as they came to the bottom, her eyes still flitting around in amazement. “It’s like you guys found the fucking batcave.”

Sam snorted and put the beer on the table.

“Dean said the same thing.”

Katrina distractedly placed the pie on top of the box and made a face.

“Yeah, well he wasn’t wrong. This place have a garage? I’ll bet they left all kinds of cool shit in there if this is the entryway.” 

“We’re still sort of figuring everything out,” Sam admitted. “Obviously that’s the entrance the key works for, and you can see the library from here - I’ve already found a ton of lore I bet you’d be interested in… I can show you later. And there’s a kitchen, through there, and then a bunch of bedrooms down that way. Dean’s room 11.”

For a moment she’d been so caught up in awe of her new surroundings that she’d almost forgotten why she was there, but with the mention of Dean’s room, she found herself suddenly itching, desperate to see him after the weeks apart. From the look on his face, Sam already expected as much, and as soon as they made eye contact he nodded towards the hallway he’d indicated.

“Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you guys later. Pizza sound good for dinner?”

Katrina wrapped him in another quick hug, before readjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder and heading towards the bedrooms.

“You’re the best, Sam!” she called back. The sound of his chuckling faded the further away she got, her eyes scanning the numbers on the doors as she went, looking for 11. By the time she found it, she could hear her heart beating in her ears and took a breath to steady herself.

She wasn’t nervous - that would be stupid, they’d been together for months, talked damn near every day… but there was some sort of anxiety bubbling in her chest she couldn’t totally ignore. Pushing past it, though, Katrina knocked on the door and waited with bated breath, trying and failing not to chew on her lip.

“Whaddya want, Sam? I’m in the middle of something.” 

The corners of Katrina’s mouth threatened to twitch up into a smile.

“Not Sam,” she called back. There was a pause, and then a flurry of movement on the other side of the door, and only seconds later, it was swinging open to reveal Dean - wearing a familiar, blue flannel, his eyes wide with surprise as he looked down at her. 

“Kat?” Any concern she had fell away as Dean’s disbelief faded and a large grin formed on his face in its place - a grin she couldn’t have stopped herself from returning if she wanted to. “What are you - how did you -”

“Happy birthday,” she said in way of an answer, a sly, somewhat shy smile in place. Dean blinked back at her for a fraction of a second before hauling her into his arms, her bag falling to the ground with a resounding thud next to them. 

“Fuck, it’s good to see you. How did you -“ 

“Sam,” she answered into his shoulder, holding just as tightly to him as he was to her. “I didn’t want to disappoint you if something went wrong again. Figured we’d broken enough promises to each other. Hopefully it’s a good surprise?” 

She felt more than heard Dean’s chuckle. “The best.” 

And then he was kissing her with an intensity that never failed to take her breath away, even after all these months. Katrina felt her head spin, but gave as good as she got, molding her lips to his, reveling in the solid warmth of his body as they pressed against each other, and letting the smell of him invade her senses while the weeks of distance slowly faded away, leaving just them, there in that moment.

“How long are you here for you?” he asked against her lips, seemingly unwilling to pull away. Katrina got it - she wasn’t willing to either.

“Few days. I took some time off work.”

A grin split across Dean’s face, but before she could say anything, Dean pulled her into the air and she let out a surprised squeal instead. Her legs wrapped around him instinctively and his arms likewise found their way around her thighs, even as he gently kicked her bag just inside the door.

“No shit -” he started saying, already pushing the door closed.

“Dean! What are you doing?” she laughed, holding tight around his neck, even as he carried her further into the room. It wasn’t much, but she could see that Dean had already started to put his own touches on the space. Familiar weapons were hung in places of pride on the wall. Records and photos were placed with care atop the dresser. She had just enough time to notice that he’d set a photo of them on his nightstand, stood up against the lamp, before he playfully tossed her onto the bed and climbed in after her. It was one Bobby had taken, in those early days, before what they were now had even seemed like a remote possibility - but they looked happy, nonetheless, Dean’s arm slung around her shoulder, hers around his waist, and bright smiles on their faces that had belied what they were each going through at the time. 

“Unwrapping my birthday gift,” he teased. Katrina snorted, though her mind drifted briefly to the folder tucked safely in her bag - the real gift. Dimly, she hoped Dean would be similarly enthusiastic when she showed it to him.

“Brought beer and pie too,” she told him, and Dean groaned.

“Have I told you lately that you’re fucking perfect?” he asked, his mouth blazing a trail of fire down her neck. Katrina bit her lip, tilting her head to give him better access while her grip on him tightened. 

“Not in the past twenty four hours.”

Dean hmphfed but then his lips were on hers again and she was too caught up in the sensation to worry about anything else. He’d quickly become like a drug to her, as cliché as it was, and it had been far too long since she’d had a fix. 

“Gotta change that then,” he murmured.

They moved back deeper onto the bed, Dean pushing what sounded like a magazine onto the floor as they went and kicking off his shoes. She did the same, glad she’d opted for flats instead of her usual boots, and hitched a leg over his hip, pulling him in even closer. Dean’s tongue dipped past the seam of her lips, tasting her and exploring her mouth as if it had been months instead of weeks they’d been apart. Katrina couldn’t blame him - it had felt like months, and this felt like coming home. 

Her hands moved to his shoulders, eagerly pushing off the blue flannel shirt, and when she went for the hem of his t-shirt before he’d even fully gotten his arm out of the overshirt, he sat back on his heels, chuckling down at her but taking the hint.

“Eager, are we? Thought I was supposed to be doing the unwrapping here, sweetheart.” 

Katrina huffed and rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched into a smirk anyway, and there was no real heat behind it. 

“Then maybe you should get on with it -” she began, but the rest of the taunt died on her lips as he pulled the shirt over his head and her mouth went dry at the expanse of skin and muscle he revealed. Noticing her distraction, Dean smirked back at her, even as his hands found their way to the bottom of her own shirt, sliding under and running reverently up her sides as he leaned back down. 

“Patience is a virtue,” he teased back, ducking his head to nip at her earlobe before continuing on, his warm breath ghosting over her ear and sending shivers down her spine. “Not that you and I are exactly known for our virtue.” 

The next thing she knew, he was pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side. He unhooked her bra with practiced ease, and she sucked in a breath as the cool air hit her heated skin.

“Hell no,” she agreed, and Dean chuckled, his hands coming up to cup her, thumbs brushing over her nipples and pinching, making her breath hitch further. Despite having done this countless times by then, Katrina still found herself squirming self-consciously under his gaze, even as his eyes darkened with lust and she could see the evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his jeans.

“Dean,” she half-moaned, half-whined, and he ducked his head, kissing her quickly but deeply before beginning to move down her body.

“God, Kat, you’re beautiful. Missed you so much, baby.” 

“Missed you too,” she gasped just as he replaced one of his hands with his mouth, licking and suckling and doing all the things he knew drove her crazy. Her leg tightened around him and she ground up while her fingers raked through his hair, pulling lightly while holding him close at the same time. His now free hand continued its journey south, tracing along the waistband of her jeans before his fingers began working around the button. Katrina shifted to make the angle easier and he popped it open with ease, dragging the zipper down immediately. He started to move down her body, trailing kisses as he went, but realizing his intention, Katrina squeezed with her thighs and reached out, rolling them before Dean could even realize what she was up to. Of course, once he did, he looked up at her in confusion.

“Kat?” 

But she was already shimmying out of her jeans and underwear, careful to keep her place on top of him, and as she kicked them both to the floor her hands were already going for his belt, undressing him with the same speed. It didn’t take him long to catch on, and Dean lifted his hips to help her. Her mouth watered at the sight of him completely bare beneath her, cock hard, leaking, and begging for her attention. He was reaching for her though, and Katrina let him pull her back into his arms, relishing the skin-to-skin contact and meeting him in another desperate, messy kiss.

Both their hands were everywhere - groping, touching, holding - and then one of Dean’s was slipping between her legs and she gasped as his fingers parted her folds, circling her clit and playing with her entrance, a low noise coming from his throat.

“Shit, you’re so wet. Need you, Kat. ‘S been too damn long.”

Katrina rocked against him, feeling his length pressing against the inside of her thigh, and moaned her agreement. Then, in the space of a second, Dean was lining himself up, thrusting up and sliding home with ease, and they both let out twin groans as they came together. Katrina sat up, her head falling back in pleasure and her hands braced against his chest. The stretch of having him inside her again after such a long absence was delicious, the feeling of fullness something she’d missed, and the reunion soothing an ache that had been festering. Dean gripped at her hips, hard, and ground against her, giving them both a chance to adjust. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathed. Dean began to shift just a bit beneath her, giving small, shallow thrusts that were more rocking than anything. 

“I know, sweetheart. Fuck you feel so good,” he answered, his own voice strained. Katrina bit her lip and began to move, needing more, and as soon as she did, Dean’s grip became impossibly tighter and he began thrusting in earnest. 

The air filled with the sounds of their labored breathing, the slap of skin on skin, the wet sounds from where they were joined, and strings of bitten off curses and moans of each others’ name. There was nothing sweet or tame about their coupling. Every movement was filled with a raw need and desperation, every touch seeking to reclaim the time they’d lost. Dean sat up, throwing an arm around Katrina’s waist and burying his face in her breasts, mouthing at one nipple than the other while she gasped and moaned at both the feel of his mouth and the change in the angle. 

When he eventually fell back to the bed, panting and bringing a hand between their bodies, circling her clit with his thumb and his eyes locked on her chest, Katrina leaned back, bracing her hands behind her on his thighs for added leverage while she continued to move her hips. 

And eventually, as the haze of their initial reunion began to clear and her energy started flagging just a bit too much, Katrina slowed her movements, leaning forward again to brace herself once more against his chest. Their tongues were still tangled together when she reluctantly pulled off him, and Dean broke away, confusion clouding his eyes, but Katrina didn’t wait for him to ask the obvious question before she began pressing open mouthed kisses down his neck and then lower. Dean caught on quickly, swearing under his breath and threading fingers through her hair as she peppered his chest with kisses, her nails raking over his abs, until she was finally face to face with his cock, still coated and glistening with her own arousal. 

“Kat, you don’t have to - fuck.” 

His hips jerked of their own accord as she ignored him and gripped him at the base, licking a broad stripe up the underside of his cock before swirling her tongue around the head and swallowing him down. The smell of sex hung heavy, she could taste herself more than she could Dean at first, and it was sticky and messy - but all of it only spurred her on, especially as the sounds of Dean’s pleasure reached her ears. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, alternating between quick, short bobs of her head and long, deep ones where she relaxed her throat, constantly working to take more of him into her mouth. Her one hand worked at what she couldn’t fit while her other came up to massage his balls, and Dean panted above her. His fingers tightened in her hair, and she could tell it was taking a lot of restraint for him to keep control. 

When he hit the back of her throat and she swallowed around him, Dean lost the battle. Katrina gagged slightly and she heard his head fall back against the bed, the grip he had on her tightening for just a moment.

“Shit, Kat, I’m so -”

“Don’t be,” she assured him, pulling off just enough to glance up and catch his eye, deliberately licking along his length when she had his attention without looking away. “I’m good, I can take it.” 

And then she was swallowing him down again, moaning around him, knowing the vibrations would drive him wild, and this time Dean let himself go, still being careful but giving into his instincts and thrusting shallowly. Katrina let him, keeping her throat relaxed, taking care to breathe through her nose and reveling in the weight of him on her tongue. The stream of moans and expletives falling from his mouth picked up, and Katrina continued massaging him, gripping at his hip with her other hand. 

“Oh, God, sweetheart you’re so - fuck, that feels so good. You’re amazing, taking me so good like that. Fuck, fuck -” 

She could tell he was close - his thrusts growing more erratic, thighs trembling, the subtle swell of him and the tightening of his balls - but before he let himself fall off the edge, Dean pulled her off him, the obscene pop echoing through the room as he hauled her back up the bed. 

He rolled them, covering his body with hers, face barely an inch from hers, both their chests heaving with exertion as he pinned her hands on either side of her head against the bed. His green eyes were dark with arousal. She knew she must have looked wrecked - her face a mess of saliva and their combined arousal - but Dean kissed her deeply anyway, seemingly uncaring of where her mouth had just been, and in fact moaning into her at the taste. 

“Why’d you stop me?” she panted when he broke it off, and Dean smiled, kissing her again.

“Because I’m not done enjoying my gift,,” he murmured, mouthing at her neck. Katrina could feel the tip of his cock nudging against her entrance, and she shifted, aching to be filled again. Dean, noticing her squirming, obliged, and thrust in easily, his forehead falling against her shoulder as he bottomed out. “Fuck, Kat.” 

“Oh God, Dean! Move,” she begged. 

He let out a breathless chuckle, but began thrusting, slower than before but deep, and Katrina lost herself in the feeling of his cock dragging along her walls. However, when she went to wrap her legs around him, desperate to be closer and her hands still pinned under Dean’s, he abruptly pulled away, sitting back on his heels. The quick shift had barely registered before he was manhandling her onto her stomach, pulling her back to him by her hips while he maneuvered onto his knees behind her. 

Dean wasted no time thrusting in again, this time setting a punishing pace. Katrina cursed, eyes rolling back into her head while her hands twisted in the sheets and she rutted back against him, needing everything he could give her. 

“Shit, you’re taking me so good, you’re so tight, baby. ‘M close. You gonna come for me?” 

Beyond words at that point, Katrina nodded into the bed, though she suspected it hardly mattered anyway. Dean’s arm wound around her, holding her tight while his fingers began playing with her clit at a relentless pace. His other hand moved up her body, groping at her breasts and rolling her nipple between his thumb and his index finger. 

The combination of it all had her hurtling towards her own release at an alarming rate and before she knew she was letting out a near-scream of ‘fuck, Dean!’ and her whole body was spasming with the force of her orgasm. Dean’s movements didn’t let up in the least, drawing it out, his own groans growing in intensity and his thrusts becoming more erratic and impossibly harder. Then he was following her with a shout of his own and spilling deep inside her, his one hand dropping from her breast to brace against the bed as he half-collapsed against her. 

They stayed frozen like that for a moment, both their hearts racing, no sound in the room aside from their heavy breathing until Dean slowly withdrew from her, collapsing onto his back and pulling her with him, letting her sprawl over his chest. They were both slicked in sweat, but Katrina didn’t care, nestling into him, basking in the afterglow but nowhere near ready to be away from him again - and she guessed from the grip he kept on her, that Dean felt similarly. 

“Best birthday present ever,” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head, and Katrina laughed breathlessly.

“Glad you enjoyed it, old man,” she teased. Dean immediately pinched her side, playfully, and she squirmed.

“You better watch it with the old man crap, Kat. I’m only five years older than you,” he pointed out. Katrina just smiled back, craning her neck to brush her lips against his. As she settled back against his chest, her fingers came up to absentmindedly trace at the anti-possession tattoo over his heart. She could feel it beating under his skin, heart rate slowly returning to normal but not quite there yet, reminding her that he was there with her, alive and well. 

“Mhmm, yeah. Whatever you say, babe. Seriously though - happy birthday, Dean. I love you.”

His arms tightened around her, his own fingers idly tracing patterns on her upper arm.

“Love you too, sweetheart. Having you here really is the best thing I could have asked for. This long-distance thing is for the birds.” 

She let out a half-hearted chuckle, though there was no humor in it - she couldn’t have agreed more with his sentiment. Her only hope was that he felt as strongly about it as she did.

“I’ve missed you too,” she told him, her voice gentling while she tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “These past few weeks have been awful.” 

“Yeah, they have,” he agreed, nodding. “But we’re here now. How long did you say you could stay again?”

It was the perfect opening to share the folder in her bag with him, but the thought of laying her cards on the table still made butterflies swarm her stomach and so she stayed put, telling herself that the moment was just too perfect to disrupt by moving.

“A few days,” Katrina answered, repeating what she’d told him before. “I took the week off from work, so my schedule’s… flexible.” 

A grin split across Dean’s face, and he settled back further into the pillows. “Awesome! We are not leaving this room for at least twenty-four hours.” 

“Oh no?” she snorted. “What about for food? Sam said he would go pick up some pizza. And don’t forget, I brought beer and pie.” 

Dean pulled a contemplative look before rolling his eyes dramatically, throwing his free hand up into the air. 

“Fine, you got me there. I guess we can emerge for food, but then it’s right back here. And we’re bringing the beer and pie with us.” 

Katrina laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

“Whatever you say, birthday boy,” she teased, stretching languidly, brushing a kiss to his stubbled jaw as she did. She winced only slightly as the way her muscles protested. “Maybe we could get a shower first, though.” 

Unsurprisingly, Dean’s ears seemed to perk up, his green eyes already darkening with renewed interest. 

“Now there’s an idea. Been a while since we tried shower sex. Got plenty of space for it here, though. What’d you say?”

Katrina rolled her eyes fondly, but that didn’t change the fact that a little while later she was following him into the attached bathroom. True to his word, there was plenty of space for both of them, and she wasn’t sure how long they took, but she knew if they’d been anywhere else they’d have definitely run out of hot water.

By the time they finally made it back out to the kitchen, Dean taking his time to point out things about his new home as they went, Sam already had three pizza boxes stacked on the counter, paper plates and napkins next to them. He was looking at something on his laptop, but as they entered he arched an eyebrow in their direction, an amused smirk playing across his face.

“About time. Was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about food.”

“Never,” Dean declared, immediately grabbing a slice. Katrina gave a small shake of her head, following after him.

“Thanks for picking up dinner, Sam,” she said, shooting the younger Winchester an appreciative look.

“No problem,” Sam replied. “Figured you guys would work up an appetite.” 

Katrina was long used to both his and Dean’s teasing, but she felt her cheeks flush slightly anyway, even as Dean grinned unabashedly and handed her a plate. 

“Damn right we did. Now, where’s the beer?” 

The three of them settled in around the table, eating, drinking, and catching up. Despite the initial teasing, Same tactfully avoided any further mention of their activities, and instead spent some time filling Katrina in on some of the interesting things they’d uncovered in the bunker so far. 

“I still can’t get over this whole thing,” Katrina marveled, looking around and then playfully nudging Dean’s arm. “You owe me a tour. This place is incredible.” 

Mouth full, Dean nodded and waved a hand at her as if to say yeah, yeah. When she went to shove him he ducked, clearly holding back laughter as he ruffled her hair and pulled her closer. Sam, long since accustomed to their antics, ignored them.

“Right?” he agreed enthusiastically. “The amount of knowledge here… it’s unreal. And we’ve barely scratched the surface.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean cut in, finally swallowing and rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “it’s nerd heaven. Still say this place has the best water pressure of anywhere we’ve ever stayed before.” Katrina shook her head, laughing.

“Uh hu, so you’ve said. So, c’mon, what else have I missed? It’s been weird, not having you guys around all the time, I feel so out of the loop.” 

From there they launched into a recap of the past few weeks, filling in all the details she and Dean hadn’t had time for in the phone calls they’d made. Katrina listened with rapt attention as they told her about the Nazi necromancers and Aaron and his golem, before in turn filling them in her own life - the few cases she’d worked solo, how Jenna was doing, the latest drama at work. None of it was nearly as dramatic as what the boys had encountered, but they seemed equally interested, and Katrina dared to hope they’d missed her as much as she’d missed them. 

As the night wore on, despite Dean’s claims that they’d be going straight back to his room, it was Sam that excused himself first. She and Dean lingered a little while longer, talking quietly, stealing the occasional kiss, and going back for seconds on the pie. Finally, it was Dean’s stifled yawn that signaled it was time for them to turn in as well. 

It was as they got ready for bed that Katrina found herself hovering over her bag, her stomach aflutter with nerves again as she froze in place after her hand brushed against the folder she’d brought with her. It could wait till the morning, but there was part of her that wanted to get it over with… and there was the fact that she had intended it to be a sort of birthday gift, despite the fact that she’d been increasingly second guessing herself as the inevitable moment she’d need to tell Dean about it drew nearer. 

Of course, Dean clocked her reaction immediately, and shot her a concerned look from where he was already climbing into bed.

“You okay?” he asked. 

Katrina took a deep breath. It was now or never. And she may have been nervous, but she’d be damned if she was going to chicken out. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” she promised, straightening up and quickly shucking off her jeans as intended before swapping her shirt for the one she’d gone to pull out of her bag. “I, uh, I just… I actually do have something for you. For your birthday. Kind of.” 

Dean raised his eyebrow, curiosity piqued, even if she was trying to cover how unbelievably nervous she was.

“Oh yeah? I thought you were my gift. I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said this was already the best birthday ever.” 

Katrina let out a soft huff. “Yeah, well… hopefully this makes it a little better.” And without any further delay, she grabbed the folder and crossed the space between them, stopping a foot or two away but within arm’s reach, clutching the papers against her chest and willing herself to stay steady. Dean eyed it carefully, seeming to pick up on the fact that she was nervous now, and she could practically see the gears turning in his brain.

“”I’m sure I’ll love whatever it is you’ve got there,” he said carefully. “C’mon Kat, what’s going on?”

Katrina took another deep breath, bracing herself. 

“So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About us and this whole… long-distance thing we’ve been trying. And… I agree with you. It’s total crap. And I don’t want to do it anymore.” 

Dean had tensed slightly while she’d been talking, but then his face fell, and before he could say anything, Katrina hurried on.

“The distance, I mean. I don’t… I don’t want to be away from you anymore. Or not more than we need to be, anyway. So I… I’ve been applying for jobs… out here in Lebanon.” 

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise and Katrina felt like her heart was going to beat out of her fucking chest, but she bit her lip and held out the folder for him to take anyway. He accepted it, still looking stunned, and wasted no time flipping it open.

Inside was a copy of the one job offer she had already received, as well as a list of the interviews she had scheduled the rest of the week - the other reason she’d taken the time off from work. Behind the list were all the details of each position she had an interview for, and she watched as Dean’s eyes skimmed over it all, his expression unreadable. Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t help but fidget as the silence stretched on.

“I know it’s a big step,” she started rambling, “and I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I mean, obviously, I’d find my own place to live - I wouldn’t expect to move in here or anything. And if this isn’t what you want, or you’re not comfortable, or whatever, I don’t have to do it at all. I just thought -”

“Katrina,” Dean interrupted, finally looking up from the folder. “Breathe, sweetheart.” 

Her mouth snapped shut, and she wrung her hands anxiously, waiting and bracing herself for his reaction. A slow smile spread across Dean’s face, his eyes drifting back to the folder.

“This is amazing,” he said softly, and Katrina blinked in surprise.

“Really? You’re not… freaked out by it?” 

Dean snorted, tossing the folder aside. He then reached for her hand, tugging her back towards the bed.

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “This is fucking awesome. I can’t believe you’d be willing to do this for me.”

“For us,” she corrected gently, allowing herself to be pulled onto the bed. “I… look, I know you don’t do the whole chick-flick thing, and I don’t really either, but life is too short, especially ours. I love you, and I want to be with you, whatever that looks like. I’m all in Dean, I always have been.” 

Dean reached out without hesitation and cupped her face, pulling her into a deep kiss that she quickly melted into, relief washing over her. When they finally broke apart, Dean rested his forehead against hers, his thumb running over her cheekbone as he looked her carefully in the eye.

“Me too, Kat. But sweetheart, are you sure? This is a lot - too much - to ask from you.”

Katrina wet her lips, eyeing him nervously but nodding nonetheless. “I’m sure,” she promised, meaning it, before reluctantly letting some of the darker stuff that had been festering finally bubble up. “If I’m being honest… it’s not like I’ve really got a whole lot tying me to South Dakota anymore. My mom’s gone, Bobby’s gone, Jenna’s been away at school and she’s graduating, but who knows where she’ll land. I’ve got, what? My work? At a crap job I only took to take care of someone that’s not here anymore? A house that’s just filled with a bunch of crap memories and metaphorical ghosts? It was different when you and Sam were staying there… but it just… it feels so empty anymore. But really, if this isn’t what you want, it’s not like I can’t figure something else out. And like I said, I’ll get my own place, I’m not -”

But Dean cut her off with another kiss, this one just as deep as the last, his fingers moving to thread through her hair. And by the time they broke apart, they were both slightly breathless and Dean was wearing an expression she’d rarely seen.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I want this, I want you. And if you’re moving out here, you’re moving in with me. With us. This place… Kat, baby, it’s amazing, but it’s not home without you here.”

Katrina felt uncharacteristic tears prick at her eyes, and she quickly blinked them back, swallowing hard.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to crowd you, or for you to feel obli-”

“I’m positive,” Dean interjected. “I love you, Kat. More than anything. You and Sam, you two’re my whole world. I want you here with me. For as long as you’ll have me. Please.” 

“I love you too,” Katrina whispered. “So much.” 

They kissed again, softer this time but no less passionate. When they finally pulled apart, Dean was grinning from ear to ear.

"Best. Birthday. Ever," he declared, repeating himself from earlier. Katrina laughed, joy bubbling up inside her, replacing her earlier anxiety entirely. 

"I'm glad you approve. Now come on, old man. Let's get some sleep. We can start figuring everything out tomorrow."

Dean grumbled good-naturedly at the 'old man' comment but allowed Katrina to pull him under the covers. They curled up together, Katrina's head on Dean's chest and his arms wrapped securely around her.

And as she drifted off to sleep, Katrina couldn't keep the smile off her face. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right in the world. She was exactly where she was meant to be - in Dean's arms, in their home. And she couldn't wait to see what the future held for them.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 3 - Professional Shinigami Beater

As soon as the dreadful realisation of the true culprit sunk in, and paired with her already deep suspicion of the supernatural involved, Katrina found herself jumping up to her feet. She had to find Ciel, and fast, alert him of this lapse in judgement before more victims could appear. She took Undertaker's coat from the hanger and rolled up its sleeves, putting it on. Alas, there was little she owned, and even less when it came to going out at night, at such a late hour.

Unexpectedly, however, the mortician blocked the door, yet a playful grin was ever present on his face. Katrina rose a quizzical eyebrow at him, though she impatiently crossed her arms at her chest. "Give me a good reason not to go, and I won't."

"It is quite dangerous for a beautiful young lady such as yourself to go alone in the dark at such ungodly hours... Then again, you seem to enjoy that, don't you~?" Katrina couldn't help but pinch the bridge of her nose in irritation.

"That's not quite the reason I was expecting. What, you want to come along, get a good laugh as I stumble around the labyrinthine streets of this wretched city." she snarked him.

"No, no, I wouldn't possibly want to ruin your fun dearie. Instead, I was thinking of preventing an unwished tragedy. Surely, you know better than most, prophylaxis is far more important than curing, yes?" with her lips slightly parted in mild confusion, the girl looked up at the man, perplex.

"You... Want to give me a weapon or what?" the man's grin widened, close to splitting his face in two, as from underneath his robes, he took out a rather fantastic gift for her. 

"It is a legacy, if you may call it that." immediately the man had to place a finger on her lips to stop her from protesting. "Just a good luck charm, though, for you own sake, I pray you won't need to use it, little fox."

"Ah, how I love making a fool out of myself with every occasion." she found herself letting out a soft chuckle. "Alright, thank you for looking out for me. See you~." though she hadn't left without a quick, thankful embrace, Katrina bolted out into the dimly lit maze of London, finding her way towards the mansion. Surely, at this hour, there were no carriages, but at least she knew Ciel would be staying at his London mansion, which wasn't too far away from the parlor.

Weirdly enough, however, from far away, she heard the sounds of echoing commotion resounding through the alleys, and of course, she had to investigate - There was little her curiosity wouldn't possess her to do - Though peeking from behind the wall of a building, she had to fight back a gasp, seeing the gore image projected before her.

Angelina was laying on the floor, bleeding heavily, already dead and with eyes pooled with dreadful anguish.  That wasn't the most surprising show, however, but the fact that, for the second time in her life, she was privileged to watch a Cinematic Record. So, it was true. Her memory-dream came at the perfect time, and the man called William was right to advise her to remember that moment, as it would come in handy. She wasn't shocked to see a Shinigami, and her guess of Sebastian being a demon might not be as far-fetched as she first thought to begin with. A warning well received.

Watching Madame Red's life was painful and bitter, and in many ways, Katrina could empathise with her; She remembers her when she was a young girl, along with Ciel's parents... And how she fell for him. How everything she had was taken away from her, and then, how she became the one known as the feared Jack the Ripper. The tragic tale of a beautiful yet misfortunate lady.

As the Cinematic Record finished, Katrina took a look at the other people there, analysing their reactions. Ciel was visibly frightened and bewildered at what was going on, Sebastian was wounded and panting, bleeding... Could demons bleed, then? How peculiar. Was there truly something more wretched out there than the devil himself, then? How appalling. There was, however, a rather dramatic man standing there, with long red hair and otherworldly green eyes, and he was wearing a pair of red glasses too. William wore glasses too, and those eyes were the exact same. This man must be a shinigami also. He wiped the blood off his chainsaw blade and took of Angelina's gorgeous crimson red coat, wearing it himself.

As the Shinigami started his chainsaw again, he started attacking Sebastian - If he was a demon, then perhaps a Shinigami was above him? Can a God of Death reap the soul of a Demon? That is, if they even have souls to begin with. The way they jumped around, leaping on building roofs and chimneys with no problem, the way their eyes shined in the black of the night, one a brilliant green, the other, an ominous, feline magenta, so graceful, so awe-inspiring; They were gliding through the air.

Similarly to Madame Red before, Sebastian, too, got sliced by the chainsaw, having his Cinematic Record shown. Though the film depicting his dull, butler life was unimpressive, Katrina couldn't help but have a million questions running through her mind; Do demons make pacts, just like the books said?

Had Goethe a pact with a demon, and wrote of his own experience? Was Sebastian record showing his life after having made a pact... With Ciel? Her river of questions came to an abrupt end once a scene was shown, depicting the butler getting so close and intimate with herself, so inviting and tempting; the Shinigami started screeching aggressively into the skies.

"WHO IS SHE?! WHO IS THIS BITCH AND WHY WAS SHE WITH MY SEBAS-CHAN?! I'M GOING TO KILL HER!" fuming and raging, he jumped down from the roof, stomping on the ground, not paying any attention to anything around him. Unknowingly, he had created the perfect opportunity for her to grab the crowbar from the ground and swiftly tip toe behind him, making sure the light of the moon wasn't projecting her shadow as a give-away, and with one strong hit, she smashed the unlikely weapon over the head, making him fall to his knees. The chainsaw fell to the ground, roaring loudly, urging the human girl to grab it and place it at his neck, threatening him.

"This bitch, as you so disgustingly called me, is a professional Shinigami beater." she smirked down at him. "You look terrible in red. Find your own style instead of stealing others' fashion sense. You look like Angelina's cheap rip off, second hand, throw-away outfit batch from three seasons ago." Katrina continued to taunt him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, woman?! First, you flirt with my Sebas-chan, and now you're trying to kill?! Don't you know, we're like Romeo and Juliet? Our love story is so tragic and eternal!" the red haired man whined, though he didn't exactly seem deathly afraid of her.

"Why don't you go full Ophelia and drown yourself in the Thames? You die either way. It's in your fate, isn't it, Shakespeare lover? Either way, your lover boy is never going to like you back. How very tragic, isn't it?" the girl laughed, stealing a glance at the panting demon. "I always wondered the validity of Faust. Now, I suppose, I have gotten my answer."

"DON'T YOU DARE INSULT MY LOVE!" with that, the shinigami shot right up to his feet, and with unexpected physical prowess, wrestled the chainsaw from her hands. 

Katrina found herself gulping, seeing the psychopath angrily power up the chainsaw once more. She completely missed the warnings from the other two, as the shinigami tried to cut her in half. She smirked, thanking her great reflexes as she took out the Lucky Charm gifted to her by the mortician, and though her arms were vibrating from the impact, the blade from the sword she was given was enough to parry the chainsaw.

"I may be a good fencer, but I have not expected to fight against a chainsaw, of all things." she took a deep breath, pushing her strength further onto the sword, one hand on the handle, whilst the other supporting the flat of the blade, destroying the enemy's flow of balance and making him stumble backwards. It was all about initiative, Lizzie taught her well, and she surprised the red haired man with a barrage of swift slashes that surprised him. 

Fighting against a supernatural being, Katrina wondered if they ever tire - Because she was feeling exhausted already, despite all the adrenaline keeping her on the edge. Regardless, with a well-aimed slash at his hand, the foe yelped in pain, allowing his weapon to fall from his grasp, for a second time. Grave mistake. Kicking the chainsaw away from their proximity, Katrina had him groveling pitifully, writhing and pleading for mercy - What a sight for sore eyes, especially with her boot on his neck.

"What was it the priests say? Divine retribution? By fire be purged?" she let out a tired chuckle. "Well, I may not claim to be any divine begin like yourself, though I supposed often have I been told that with hair like mine, I am kissed by fire." 

"Kill him. I don't care." Ciel spat, unable to even look at the shinigami.

"Young master, are you sure? Killing a divine being could have great repercussions, and for a human to do it nonetheless..." Sebastian warned his master, though he was unreasonable.

"Just do it already." the young boy snapped at them.

"If demons bleed and have a Cinematic Record... Do Shinigami also?" the innocent grin dripping with malice seemed to frighten the foe enough to start pleading for his life.

"P-Please, little lady, spare me!" he was inconsolable.

"Goodnight, London." bringing down her blade to stab him where the heart would be, the sword was stopped by some a unusually long branch snapper and a weirdly familiar voice, telling her to stop, in a cold, fakely polite manner.

"Will...?" looking up to see the owner of the voice, Katrina found herself gasping in shock, seeing the man from her dreams appearing before her, his eyes staring cold through her, bright green and unnaturally glowing.

"Miss Raymond. I see your memory is sure golden. I wasn't quite expecting you to remember me. A pleasant surprise, in an otherwise dreary night of overwork." the man fixed his glasses, and though his words made it sound as though they were good old friends, the cold wall of his appearance proved otherwise.

"It was you who told me to remember, after all, and I simply complied. Though the memory of my brother's death isn't pleasant to remember, the knowledge of the supernatural existing and roaming the human realm sure made it easy to accommodate myself with the idea that perhaps this miracle butler isn't quite the perfect human that he strives to appear as." Katrina scoffed, kicking the disgusting crimson shinigami away from her. "Either way - I doubt that creatures like yourself should be allowed to freely mingle with humans and reap their souls before their time. I remember that book, Will. I have every intention to instill my revenge, on the behalf of all those that he stole their future from."

"I will have to refrain you from doing something that might be damning you in the afterlife. Despite having to go out of my way, during my leisure time, I have come here to retrieve this idiot back to his place. He will be severely punished, I assure you - By the harshest laws implemented in our court." William spoke strictly as he jumped off from the high wall he was standing on, landing perfectly on the mongrel's back and kicking him painfully in the face. He stepped in front of Katrina, placing a hand on the hand holding a tight grip on the sword handle, and gently inching it away from the enemy, in an attempt to keep her from killing the idiot.

"I care little, and even less about the rules of your beings. The fact that... That thing killed not only a good friend of mine, but also, countless innocent human victims still stands. He should be punished in accordance to the human laws." Katrina looked up at him with defiance. Though he didn't respond to her, William cleared his throat. "Dispatch member Grell Suttcliff. You have broken the rules. Firstly, you have killed people whose names are not listed on the Death List and also, you used your scythe without permission and even modified it without following proper procedures. Please return to the main branch to submit your reflection letter and report."

"... A reflection letter and a report? Is that the harshest punishment you can give a shinigami?! Truly, this must be some kind of sick joke, and I'm not laughing, William." Katrina glared harshly at him.

"Hey! Wait a moment! I was almost killed just now!!" the man called Grell whined, clinging on the other's leg.

"If you can cry that a mere human girl beat a Shinigami so easily, then you should be ashamed of yourself. Not even this filthy demon over here should have been able to defeat you." without realising, William confirmed Katrina's suspicion about Sebastian's very being. "This thing has caused you a lot of trouble this time round."

"Yes, he has. Now step aside, William. I will not stand for seeing him get away with screwing around with us." though she tried to side-step him, the Shinigami had perfect reflexes and continued to block her way.

Sebastian, also, like a silent feline, stepped by the girl's side. William could only glare in disgust, forcing himself to bow to them as an apology. "Really... I actually have to bow to a creature like you who only brings harm. Even if you choose to tarnish the Shinigamis' reputation, there must be a limit." came his shady comments.

"Bold of you to speak of Sebastian only causing harm, considering the massacre one of your own pulled." Katrina spat at him, pushing him backwards. "Let me reiterate what your fellow Shinigami did - He manipulated a human, abused her weaknesses against her, coerced her into becoming a killer whilst being her accomplice, and when things turned bad, he killed her, along with all the other victims. I don't know, William, but that sounds more like demon behaviour, compared to the impartiality of a reaper, doesn't it? Yes - I am comparing you to the filth that you despise so much." the woman sneered with disgust. "Your disregard for human lives is as wretched as you are, if you truly think his deeds can be redeemed with a simple apology. You cannot bring them back to life. They were gruesomely robbed of their future, and all their loved ones forced to mourn them. They weren't even given a proper funeral - And you think a reflection letter can abscond him from everything that he's done?!"

Though William wasn't supposed to have a heart with the regular human emotions anymore, he couldn't help but internally agree with her outrage. Shinigami became the way they were because of their disregard for human lives - When they were still human themselves. To hate life so much that you end it all, when so many others are desperate to live another day - Yes, they were selfish, and they were the worst kinds of people to be in charge of human lives, let alone, judge who deserves to live another they. It was divine punishment, though he always thought it worse for the humans themselves, not on the new reapers entirely - Though, for one who wanted to stop living, to be cursed with a forever-life of never-ending work sure sounded like the worst fate.

Sebastian, however, was borderline amused with the justice-prone and righteousness of the lady before him. He had read her so wrong at first - He thought her rather shallow and uncaring of anyone but herself, yet when it comes to revenge, it seems, she's just as ready to hold the executioner's sword, as she is to pass judgement, not much unlike his own young master. How very hilarious human-kind can be. Perhaps that is why he finds humanity so very interesting - They can always surprise him, one way or another. Not only has she come out of nowhere, but she provided him with the much needed entertainment of seeing a dreaded Shinigami being humiliated, with a crowbar, no less. This little Kitten was truly worthy of his attention - Though he was greedy, he was going to reciprocate. He was, after all, a good demon.

"Miss Raymond's anger here is justified and I find myself agreeing with her. Please keep a close eye on him so as to not trouble a harmful creature like me. Humans... Cannot reject temptation. When they are plunged into the depths of despair likened to Hell, they will hold on to anything that may help them escape from the situation they are in, even if it's merely a spider's thread... No matter what sort of humans they are." his comment was not only addressed as a cheeky retort to the reaper, but as an incentive to get a rise out of the girl, who took the bait immediately and threw him a rather shady glare, worthy of being immortalised.

"For a pristine clean excuse of a butler like yourself, Sebastian, you are rather rude and condescending yourself - There is no room for you to judge humans, when there is little you know about them. Unless you live the way we do, and feel what only we can feel, there is no rational way even one of your mental capacity could understand us. Empathy and emotions are what makes us human - And, as far as I can see, both reapers and demons are greatly lacking in both." oh, how the demon wanted to bare his fangs with a wide grin and claim her sweet, innocent soul right there, in front of all to see, a most beautiful sculpture that will last the test of time.

"That's just how demons are, Miss Raymond. They use various chances to poke fun of humans, before proceeding to leech whatever comes out of it as a means of survival, am I right?" William jabbed at his wretched enemy.

"I do not dismiss that claim." Sebastian simply smiled.

"There is little room for you and your hypocritical comments, William. Both of you are missing the point. Without humans, demon would starve - They feed off our souls, our emotions - The seven deadly sins - If we didn't exist, neither would they." Katrina reproached them sternly. "Come to think of it... Perhaps neither would reapers. No more souls to reap, no more use for you. The most useless race there is, though they bare the title of 'divine'. That is nothing more than a pretentious farce, when in reality, you are all the same. Wretched to the core." For the first time in a long while, Sebastian could feel excitement, an emotion mixed with greed and lust that was strongly latching onto his very being, at the mere scene of a frail, little human so courageously bashing and denigrating all that stood before her. How very enticing, how alluring of her - If only she'd know the seductive power she held over him, a little kitten unknowingly playing the seductress role that not even a succubus was capable of achieving.

He was quite tempted to give in to her previous provoking and have her mewl into the night and give into her most burning desires and sweetest wishes that only her body knew and craved. He wanted to do such unspeakable things to the little maiden, bring her such an overwhelming amount of pleasure, that even the most confident whores would blush and look away. He was going to make his little kitten purr so tenderly at the mere trail of his fingers down her skin, and have her let out noises she wasn't even aware she was capable of doing, feel emotions that she thought non-existent.

Will on the other hand, felt the bitterness of the life he once had, and was so close to his grasp, yet completely out of his reach. Still, he was on the job, there was little he could do in public; Self-hatred and pity were for back home.  Despite all this, he could feel the rushing, heavy pressure of sin rapidly emanating from the demon whose smirk was ever so disgusting. He knew what he wanted. He hated him. "You don't have a contract with a demon, so you should be fine. The one over there, however, not so much. I recommend precaution." William fixed his glasses, all business-like. "Now then, I know when my presence isn't welcomed. Let's go back, Grell Sutcliff. This is really bothersome, we are already lacking in staff. I wonder if I will be able to knock off on time today."

Unknown to the two participants of this war, they had similar thoughts, as Katrina lunged to Will's side, ready to slash off Grell's head, whilst the demon threw the red chainsaw at William's head. Unfortunately, both attempts ended in failure, as the brunet shinigami grabbed her hand, halting her movement, as managed to catch the blade of the chainsaw in between two fingers, glaring back at the butler, though he thanked him for returning the weapon.

Sebastian simply offered an innocent grin, whilst the red head girl tsk'ed in annoyance and stepped away, not without scaring Grell one more time. "I truly can't stand reapers." she muttered, hiding back the sword as she helped Ciel stand up. "I can't help but wonder what in the world happened that urged you to forge a pact with a demon. A story for another time, I suppose. For now... I suppose I have a lot of work to do, preparing Angelina's funeral... And the other girl's. At least the last victim deserves as much... Considering how mutilated she was."

"We're going home now. There's a lot to prepare for." Ciel nodded his head in agreement.

"Young Master, you won't let a Lady alone at such an hour, will you?" Sebastian mildly scolded the earl. Ciel simply looked at Katrina, realising her ridiculous outfit, and scoffed. "If she could get over here by herself, she can handle her way back to the Undertaker just fine. It's not too far anyways." Katrina couldn't help but chuckle at the boy. "You're being so cold with me, Ciel, not quite the gentleman behaviour I'd expect from you. Regardless, you are not wrong, though I appreciate the concerns, Sebastian. I suppose I will be on my way, then. I shall be seeing you at the funeral."

"I pray for your safe arrival. Have a-" the girl abruptly turned on her heel, laughing as she cut off the butler from speaking.

"Hear that! A demon - Praying! You should have told THAT to the Undertaker, instead of that stupid joke! Who knows, perhaps a world-wide earthquake would have destroyed the planet with the way he'd laugh." she theatrically gestured. "Using such phrases - Heavens forbid, God forbid... And now, Praying! My, Sebastian, for a disgusting demon such as yourself, you are being awfully angelic. Should have expected that from one who bares the name of an Archangel, no less."

"I see my lady likes keeping her tongue as sharp as always and she likes to abuse others' patience. Thankfully, I have always been proud of my borderless self-restraint, though I think you might just be capable of doing the unthinkable." he mused at her. "A beautiful young maiden, walking alone, wearing only a nightgown. You are a magnet for trouble. Do be careful next time you decide to get out of the house. You wouldn't want to taste corruption at the hands of unwanted filth, would you?" before she could reply, Sebastian had already picked her up in his arms, cradling her as though she was some little kitten. The surprised look on her face warranted pay-per-view, so innocent and naive, so adorable. So tempting. The closer he kept her to his body, the easier it was for her to tease himself with the faint scent of her soul, so bright... So easy to taint.

"With such treatment, there is little to complain about. I rather like this." the girl chuckled, feeling the butler fall in pace with his young master.

"You are endearingly truthful and forward, my lady. Quite intriguing I'd say. There's few ladies who wouldn't act demure and bashful around men that make their cheeks flush with desire." Sebastian retorted, making her roll her eyes.

"What is there to get timid over?" she spoke simply.

"Plenty." the man found himself looking down at her with a devilish grin.

"I'll be awaiting, then. I hope you can deliver." she challenged him once again.

"Perhaps not all humans are as predictable as I thought." his wondered aloud, waiting for a refuting argument.

"I think, Sebastian, that creatures moved by emotions are the least predictable ones. They are capable of things so heinous that even demons could tremble; Likewise, they can exert benevolence that would put angels to shame - If they even exist, that is. Not that I'd be eager to meet them. God must be nothing but a stupid joke." her blatant disrespect regarding the supposedly all-good beings only made him grit his teeth, to force himself not to grin. There was nothing more he loved than Godly slander.

"You are the most desired challenge I've ever encountered, and I'm very willing to pursue you until the very end." the butler hummed.

"To the Horizon and beyond? Beyond even the limits of the sky? Beyond even the moon and the stars?" she tried, only to get disappointed by the answer.

"Beyond anything humanly capable." the demon intentionally jabbed at her.

"How perfectly effortless coming from a demon. I am not interested in you any longer, Sebastian." the girl scoffed with disinterest.

"And if I go beyond even the limits of the Divine?" the tried the other teasing side of the hot and cold approach.

"As long as you don't bore me to death and show resolve, then perhaps I'll look at you." she mused. "Will was disappointing enough."

"My lady, it is insulting of you to compare me to such appalling creatures." he glared at her, offended.

"Then earn a compliment, demon. Show me you're worth my time." provoking the omnipotent being into falling to his knees before her and abiding each and everyone of her whims, all to potentially earn the sweet, tempting prize that she had to offer. His hard work and fortitude was going to pay. A hundredfold.

"Yes, My Lady." as soon as he said that, his eyes shone bright fuchsia, his pupils becoming cat-like, which earned a smirk and a purr of surprise from her, leaning her elbow on his shoulder and tilting her head slightly, muttering in his ear "Now that's what I'm talking about."

As they reached the Phantomhive mansion, Sebastian tucked her tenderly in bed, not without surprising her with a careful kiss on her forehead, just enough to make her pulse rise. As he left the room, he blew into the candles, and spoke a last comment, alluring and enticing as only a demon knew best.

"I await the morning so that I can be in your company once again, my Lady. Good night."

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[zizzlekwum]

Stranger In A Not-So-Strange Land

Masterlist

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The BAU goes to New Orleans to solve a series of murders. Follows the events of Criminal Minds Season 2 Episode 18 "Jones."

Trigger Warnings: mentions of and mild descriptions of sexual assault

Word Count: 6,396

Tag List: @leftoverenvy @itsmeanobody @ctrljuls @theclassicgaycousin @fatherfigured [if you want to be added to the tag list, please comment or send me an ask]

NOTE: Sorry it took so long. I was sick for a week, and then I was almost finished last night (I had one more scene to write) and then my bunny, Pippa, unexpectedly died, so that ruined the rest of the night and I basically stayed in bed crying.

You arrive at work early, yawning as you sit down at your desk. You’re not surprised to see Hotch already at work. He gives you a nod as you sit down at your desk and start researching crime statistics.

“Morning, Y/L/N.”

You look up to see Prentiss sitting down at her desk across from you, giving you a small smile. “Hey, Emily,” you greet before yawning again.

“Rough night?” she asks.

You shrug. “I’m bipolar,” you explain. “I’m medicated, but about once a month, like clockwork, I go three days without sleeping.”

She frowns, eyebrows furrowing in sympathy. “That sucks. What do you do all night?”

“I lay in bed and pretend I’m sleeping,” you tell her. “I read a study once that found that pretending to sleep is actually more beneficial than just saying ‘fuck it’ and not trying. Basically, laying down and trying to sleep will help you feel more rested, even if you don’t actually sleep.”

“That’s really interesting,” Emily says.

“I thought so, too,” you say. “I would try to find the study for you, but it was back in my own universe, so I’m not sure it exists yet.”

“You should tell Reid about it,” she says. “I’m sure he would be interested.”

“What would I be interested in?” Reid asks from behind her, walking through the doorway.

“Just a study I read years ago,” you tell him. You’re filling him in when Hotch comes out of his office.

“We have a case,” he says. “Conference room, please.” You all nod and follow him into the room, where JJ is standing in front of the TV.

“We’ve got a serial killer in New Orleans who killed at least three men pre-Katrina,” JJ informs you. “Until now, the New Orleans police department believed that the serial killer died in the storm.”

“What’s happened to tell them otherwise?” Morgan asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“A fourth body was found in the French Quarter last night.” JJ pulls up an image of the victim. “Same MO. Another male. Throat slashed, eviscerated.”

Prentiss frowns. “A year and a half? That’s a long cooling-off period. Are we sure this is the same unsub?”

“Well, he was probably displaced by the storm,” you point out. “Maybe he kept committing murders in another jurisdiction?”

“Possible,” JJ says, nodding at you. “He send a letter to William LaMontagne, the head detective on the case, claiming to be the same unsub.”

Gideon crossed his arms in front of him. “LaMontagne have any leads?”

“He died in Katrina,” JJ says. “His son is actually heading the case now.” You fight back a smile at her unknowingly mentioning her future husband.

“That can’t be easy,” Morgan says, frowning.

“Well, we need to pour over the evidence from the first three murders and determine the pattern,” Hotch says.

JJ shakes her head. “Katrina washed everything away. The three victims we know of, their autopsy reports, witness statements, DNA test results.”

“So basically, all we have to go on is the latest victim?” Reid says.

“Until he kills again,” Hotch adds.

“Fun,” you say, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

*   *   *   *   *

On the jet, you’re playing Pokemon Diamond on your DS, since there aren’t any files to go over.

“Hey Reid,” Morgan says. “What’s going on up there?”

Reid shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I was just thinking of this old friend of mine from Las Vegas— Ethan. I’m pretty sure he lives in New Orleans now.”

“Really? Gonna give him a call?” Morgan asks.

Reid shrugs. “We grew up competing against each other in absolutely everything. Spelling bees, science fairs. We also both had our hearts set on joining the Bureau, but… first day at Quantico, he backed out.”

“He probably just couldn’t take the heat,” Prentiss jokes with a smile.

“It’s not really for us to judge, is it?” Reid frowns.

Prentiss’ smile fades. “Right. My bad.”

JJ clears her throat. “These are copies of the newspaper articles on the murders, dating back to early August, 2005.” She hands you a stack of papers as you close your DS and put it back in your bag. “It’s all we have to go on.”

“He killed three times, he stopped for eighteen months, then he started killing again,” Hotch says.

“We should have Garcia run a list of any offenders in the area,” Gideon says. “Anyone who spent the last year and a half doing time, and like Y/L/N suggested, anyone who was forced to relocate after the storm and recently moved back.” He nods at you.

“What is the victimology in killing a mechanic, a real estate broker, and a cook, with ages ranging from twenty-two to forty-five?” Prentiss asks.

JJ nods. “And this latest is a thirty-three year old taxi driver. They just don’t seem to have very much in common.”

“Apart from being men,” you say.

“And walking the French Quarter at night,” Morgan adds.

“Which is notorious for muggings off the main drag,” JJ says.

Prentiss frowns. “Yeah, but this guy isn’t in a rush to flee the scene. A slaughter like this takes time.”

“Andrei Chikatilo fantasized that the men he killed were his captives,” Reid chimes in, “and that torturing and mutilating them somehow made him a hero.”

“The city’s barely back to life,” Gideon says. “Something like this could cripple its psyche.”

“So where do we start?” JJ asks.

“We don’t have any case files or anything,” you remind her. “We really only have one place to start.”

Hotch nods. “Square one.”

*   *   *   *   *

When the plane lands, the team splits up. You go with Reid and Prentiss to the ME to examine the body.

“Four layers of fatty tissue sliced through like butter,” the ME says, uncovering the body. “I only seen that three other times.”

“You work this case initially?” Reid asks.

The ME nods as you slip on a pair of latex gloves. “You don’t forget victims like this. It’s like they were dissected.”

“I can still smell the alcohol on him,” Prentiss notes, also putting on gloves.

The ME shrugs. “This is New Orleans. Dead or alive, it’s a smell you get used to.”

“No defensive wounds,” you note, carefully lifting up the victim’s arm.

“Most likely a blitz attack,” Reid adds. He examines the stab wounds. “No hesitation marks or rapid thrusts. Cuts were methodical. Almost procedural.”

“My guess?” the ME chimes in. “Whoever gutted this guy was taught to.”

“You’re thinking he might have some medical training?” Prentiss asks.

The ME nods. “How else could he carve around every organ and leave each one intact?”

“Has anyone come to claim the body yet?” you ask.

“Anyone we could speak with?” Prentiss says.

“No,” the ME says, shaking his head. “I’ll end up boxing up the poor bastard’s ashes, left to collect dust in storage. All the bodies I’ve been through in the last year and a half, it’s a wonder I still have room.”

*   *   *   *   *

When the three of you get back to the station, Hotch is looking at a projection on the wall.

“Is that the letter from the unsub?” Prentiss asks.

“Yeah,” Hotch says. He reads it aloud. “‘I’m back with a vengeance. I wanted you to know… the last guy made it easy, being out so late, stumbling home drunk. I enjoyed slicing around the organs, thought about sending you one. He was asking to be ripped. Don’t you think, Boss? Yours Truly.’”

“To say that the victims were asking to be killed denies all culpability,” Reid says. “Most sexual sadists rationalize their own behavior by blaming the victims like that.”

Prentiss shakes her head. “But there was no evidence of sexual assault in the autopsy. He could be a homosexual male stabbing because he needs violence for arousal.”

“Every kill he’s acting out a fantasy of revenge,” Hotch says.

“What if he’s trying to act out something else?” Reid says.

“Like what?” Hotch asks.

Reid glances at the projection of the unsub’s letter. “With the exception of the victims being men, it’s the same MO.”

“What are you talking about?” Prentiss asks.

“Oh!” you exclaim. “Jack the Ripper?”

Reid nods. “Exactly. All four victims were found with their throats slashed, eviscerated, and the murders perpetrated in semi-public places after dark. Investigators taunted with letters addressed to ‘Boss.’ The only difference is that case was a hundred years ago and the murders took place in London.”

“And the unsub wants us to think that he’s the modern-day version loose in New Orleans,” Hotch says.

*   *   *   *   *

The next day, you find yourself at the scene of another murder. You, Morgan, and Reid are questioning the victim’s friends.

“So the three of you were out together last night?” Reid asks.

The man to your left nods. “Mark had just paid his tab at one bar and was on his way to meet us at another.”

“You guys get in any trouble?” Morgan asks. “Drunken brawl? Anybody get out of hand?”

The other man shakes his head. “We were just out to have fun, you know? Minded our own business.”

You adjust your glasses on your nose. “Could Mark have met a girl? Maybe upset her boyfriend?”

“No, ma’am.” The man on the right shakes his head again. “He struck out like we all did.”

Morgan nods. “Thanks guys.” You, Morgan, and Reid turn back to the body, where Prentiss, Gideon, and Detective Will LaMontagne are standing around the victim.

Will crosses his arms. “I can hardly keep up with this guy.”

“Well, if he’s mimicking Jack the Ripper, that might be precisely the point,” Prentiss says. “He terrorized London for months without ever getting caught.”

Gideon looks at Will. “I’d appreciate it if you’d gather your men. We’d like to give you a profile of who you’re up against.”

*   *   *   *   *

Back at the precinct, the team stands in front of the New Orleans cops, ready to tell them the profile. Hotch stands in the middle, while Emily is leaning against the wall next to you.

“The offender we’re looking for is friendly, agile, somewhere between thirty and thirty-five,” Hotch starts.

“He’ll lure with charm, kill with rage,” Gideon continues.

“We believe he’s murdering men to reclaim his power,” Emily says. “This unsub suffers from low self-esteem, but he probably covers it well. He dresses impeccably to feed the facade. Jack the Ripper himself was an impetuous lust murderer, whereas this offender is organized, calculating. He might even stalk his victims for days before the actual kill.”

“We believe this killer identifies with Jack the Ripper because he’s lost his own identity,” Gideon says. “Maybe through years of child abuse or some catastrophic event.”

Hotch continues the profile. “Because he overcompensates to hide his insecurities, we believe he may hold a position of authority at work.”

“We also believe the unsub has had medical training,” you add. “Consider EMTs, doctors, and veterinarians, people who may have an advanced understanding of the human body.”

“Please be careful,” Gideon says. “For this unsub, the French Quarter is a hunting ground. He’s certainly already proven he knows the terrain.”

The cops disperse and you and Emily return to the conference room to look over the evidence when Emily’s phone rings.

“Prentiss,” she answers, putting the phone on speaker.

“What was the thing Jack the Ripper took from one of his victims?” Garcia asks. “Besides. Well, you know. Her life.”

“Oh, uh….” Prentiss trails off.

“Tick, tock,” Garcia says.

You think for a moment. “Kidney?”

“Ding ding ding! Y/N’s right,” Garcia exclaims. “How horrifyingly fantastic is that?”

Emily nods at you, making you smile. “Garcia, are you going anywhere with this?” she asks.

“Just that I found an unsolved murder that happened four months ago in Galveston, Texas, with the same MO, the victim missing that very organ. I amaze myself.”

“Hey, I did wonder if the unsub was displaced by the hurricane,” you point out.

“Y/N, you are also amazing,” Garcia says.

Emily laughs. “I agree,” she says, causing your cheeks to heat up. “Great work, Garcia,” she says.

“Who was that?” Gideon asks, walking into the room.

“I may have been right,” you tell him. “Garcia found a case in Texas that fits the Ripper’s MO, four months ago.”

Gideon nods. “A lot of Katrina refugees relocated there after the storm.”

“It could definitely be our unsub,” Prentiss agrees. “He removes the kidney, just like Jack the Ripper.”

Gideon gestures to you. “Call Reid and Morgan. I want the four of you on a plane to Texas tonight.”

You nod, biting your lip. “Will do,” you tell him quietly.

*   *   *   *   *

Emily glances back at you as you follow her up the stairs into the jet. “Are you okay? I know you had a hard time in Texas during the last case.”

You sigh, fiddling with your hands. “I’m treating it as exposure therapy,” you tell her with a shrug. “It’s how I got myself used to the grocery store during the weekend days when it was wicked crowded. Besides,” you say, shooting her a smile, “I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me, even if my asshole ex somehow did show up.”

She chuckles, throwing an arm around you. “You got that right. We have your back.”

The two of you settle in and wait for Reid and Morgan to get there, chatting about the case as you wait. After a few minutes, Morgan walks onto the jet.

You nod at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his bag down. “Where’s Reid?”

“He’s not with you?” you ask. Morgan shakes his head.

Next to you, Emily frowns. “We were hoping he was.”

“Thought you said you called him?” Morgan asks her.

She nods. “I did! Four times, nothing.” She glances at her watch. “The victim’s fiancée is expecting us.”

“What do we do?” you ask.

Morgan shakes his head. “We got one option. Wheels up.” He goes to tell the pilot to take off.

*   *   *   *   *

When you get to the fiancée’s house, it’s dark out. She invites you in and you take a seat next to Prentiss on the couch, Morgan on her other side.

“Everyone kept saying crime’s gonna skyrocket after the relocation,” the victim’s fiancée says. “You just never think it’s gonna happen to you.”

“The report said that your fiancé was bar-hopping for his bachelor party on the night he was killed,” Prentiss says.

“We were supposed to be married in October,” the fiancée says. She takes a deep breath. “He was just out celebrating that with friends.”

“Was there anyone at Leonard’s bachelor party you didn’t know?” Morgan asks.

She shakes her head. “We all grew up together. They’re like family to me. Whether they met somebody out, you know, that’s a different story.” She laughs humorlessly. “They’re a rowdy bunch. They’d party with anybody.”

You finish up the interview and leave the house. You hop in the back seat, giving Emily the passenger seat while Morgan drives. Emily sighs. “Each of the last two victims was traveling with a group. Both were drinking, both in public arenas, bar-hopping. So how could their friends not see anything?”

“It’s like when the lion preys upon an antelope,” Morgan says.

Emily frowns. “You lost me.”

Morgan laughs. “Well that’s because you, Emily Prentiss, have never been one of the antelope.”

“Oh, scratch that,” Emily says. “You totally lost me.”

“Me too,” you say, frowning.

“Okay, check this out,” Morgan says. “The antelope travel in packs. So the lion just sits and waits. Waits for just one of the antelope to break away from its herd, so when he’s alone, vulnerable, and completely unprotected, that’s when the lioness strikes. That’s when she makes her move.”

“Wait a minute, ‘her’ move,” Emily repeats.

Morgan nods. “There’s only one thing that’s gonna make a straight man leave his friends on a guys night out. And it’ll make him leave every time. One of the victims was out for his bachelor party. Another one out with just the guys. What’s the only temptation that’s gonna lure these men away from each other.” He takes out his phone and dials.

“The unsub’s a woman,” you finish.

*   *   *   *   *

Back at the precinct, you, Morgan, and Prentiss are looking through the case files again when Reid walks in.

“Hey, you guys are back from Galveston?” he asks, sitting down next to you.

“First light this morning,” Morgan replies. “Where were you?”

“I was out with a friend, I already told you,” Reid says casually.

“I called you four times,” Prentiss says.

“I didn’t have any cell phone reception, so I didn’t get your message until late,” Reid says.

Prentiss rolls her eyes. “Right.”

Reid looks to you. “What’s going on?”

“Unsub’s a woman,” you tell him. “We’re looking through the evidence again with that in mind.” He opens his mouth to respond when Hotch walks up behind him.

“We just found another body in the Quarter,” Hotch says. “Let’s go.”

*   *   *   *   *

At the scene of the newest murder, Morgan is examining the body as you, Prentiss, Gideon, and Reid watch him.

“Throat’s been cut,” Morgan says. “He’s been disemboweled, too.”

Gideon crouches down next to the body. “Reeks of booze,” he says. “It’s more than a pattern.”

“Only this time, she cut off the earlobe,” Morgan adds.

You nod. “Like Jack the Ripper.”

Prentiss looks at you. “What do you mean?”

“In one letter or correspondence, Jack the Ripper promised to cut the earlobe off his next victim, and he did,” Reid says.

“Wasn’t that the only day he killed twice?” you ask. Reid nods.

“So she’s gonna kill again by the end of the day,” Gideon says.

“Most likely,” you say. “Unless we can stop her by then.”

“Okay,” Prentiss starts, “what do we know about female serial killers?”

Gideon nods. “Basically, you have two types.”

“The Sante Kimes model,” Morgan says. “Cold, calculated. Preys on men for money. Takes her time building relationships.”

“Doesn’t sound like this unsub,” you say.

“It’s more likely we’re dealing with the Aileen Wuornos archetype,” Reid agrees, nodding at you. “Motivated by paranoia and fear, luring men with sex.”

“This unsub’s organized,” Gideon says. “She follows a routine. She meets men in a bar, flirts with them over drinks, and suggests they consummate the evening in an alley.”

“We should patrol the streets tonight,” you say. “Especially knowing we can expect another body by the end of the day.”

“Office just brought me this,” Detective LaMontagne says from behind you. You turn and see him holding out an evidence bag with what appears to be another letter from the unsub inside.

Emily takes it from him and reads. “Dear boss, by now I have rid the world of one more. So many men, so little time. I hope you don’t mind the mess. They make it so easy, I just can’t help myself. Yours truly.”

*   *   *   *   *

Later that night, you and Emily are patrolling the alleys together.

“Most of the women are in groups,” you note, looking around.

Emily nods from beside you. “We should be looking for someone on her own.”

You frown, thinking of the latest letter. “So many men, so little time,” you repeat. “She’s dead set on killing men. I wonder why?”

“She might be misplacing the rage from a father who molested her,” Emily suggests. “Some people think Jack the Ripper mutilated women after his mother sexually abused him for years.”

“She seems apologetic, weirdly enough,” you add. “At least for leaving a messy scene. I don’t understand why.”

Emily shrugs. “That might be what the detective’s father figured out before he died.”

You sigh. “Okay, I’m going to preface this with the fact that I’m not victim blaming, simply curious, but why are these men just fine with following a stranger into a random alley alone? I would never.”

Emily chuckles. “They’re not thinking with their head.”

“At least, not the correct one,” you respond. She laughs.

“Exactly.” The two of you continue looking around for anything that stands out, conversation lulling for a bit.

“Do you know what’s going on with Reid?” Emily asks after a little while.

You let out a long breath. “He… I mean, he hasn’t been the same since Tobias Hankel, and understandably so,” you tell her. “But I wish he’d let us in.”

She looks out at the crowd around you. “Not to change the subject, but I feel like we’re missing something. Let’s go meet up with the others, see if they’ve had any luck.”

You nod, following her through groups of people, fighting the urge to reach out and grab her hand so you don’t lose her. You find Morgan and Reid first.

“Hey,” Morgan says, shaking his head. “We got nothing.”

You frown. “Well, we’re running out of time. Day’s almost over.”

Emily sighs. “Hopefully Hotch and Gideon or JJ and the detective had better luck. Otherwise….” Her voice trails off, but you all know what she means.

Otherwise, you’re going to find another body.

*   *   *   *   *

The next morning, you arrive at the scene of the newest murder. Detective LaMontagne is kneeling next to the body, shaking his head.

“She’s mocking us,” he says, standing as you, Emily, JJ, Gideon, and Reid duck under the crime scene tape.

“And she’s true to her word,” Emily notes.

Reid crouches down next to the body. “Does anyone have any tweezers?” he asks. One of the crime scene techs hands him a pair. “Thank you.” He uses them to extract something white from the victim’s mouth.

“What is that?” JJ asks.

“I have no idea,” Reid says.

You look closer as Reid stands. “A note, maybe?”

Reid unfolds the paper and nods. “Y/L/N is right.” He looks over at the detective. “It’s addressed to your father.”

“Let’s see it,” Gideon says. Reid hands him the paper. “‘Dear boss,’” Gideon reads, “‘he wanted it, with that sharp tongue and vulgar hand. Thought you’d like to know, another will soon get what he deserves. Yours truly.’”

��It’s weird,” Reid notes.

You frown. “How so?”

“Typically offenders write letters to be heard,” he explains. “Jack the Ripper bragged about not being caught, but this unsub isn’t using correspondence to flaunt her latest kill, only to explain why she did it.”

“It’s possible that she considers herself a vigilante,” Prentiss suggests. “That the men she’s killing deserve to die.”

“Or maybe she’s contacting your father, not because he was the lead detective on the case, but… because she believes he’d understand,” Gideon tells the detective.

“You think he knew her somehow?” Detective LaMontagne asks.

“Can you think of a woman in your dad’s life he helped through a tough time?” JJ asks. “Might be another police officer, I don’t know, a prostitute he helped get off the street?”

The detective shakes his head. “Nah, he hasn’t dealt with prostitutes since he worked sex crimes.”

“The unsub wrote, ‘he was asking to be ripped,’ ‘I just couldn’t help myself,’ and ‘he wanted it,’” Reid says.

“Wait, that sounds a lot like what rapists say to excuse their behavior,” you say. You turn to the detective. “You said your dad worked sex crimes? Maybe she was one of his victims.”

Reid nods at you. “Exactly. She may be mirroring the man who raped her.”

“Detective, where are the files stored from your sex crimes division?” Gideon asks.

Detective LaMontagne shakes his head. “They were housed in the same place as homicide. Most of them washed away.”

“Did your dad have a partner?” JJ asks.

“Yeah, J.R. Smith,” the detective says. “Smitty, they called him.”

“Maybe he remembers something,” you suggest.

“Yeah, but they had a falling out,” Detective LaMontagne says.

Emily frowns. “What about?”

The detective shrugs. “I don’t know. They stopped talking when he left sex crimes. That was nine years ago. The guy didn’t even come to my daddy’s funeral, so….”

“Do you have a problem calling him?” Gideon asks.

“Not if it means breaking this case,” Detective LaMontagne says. He looks down at the body, frowning. “Honey, may I borrow your hand for a minute?” he asks JJ. She nods. The detective uses her to look at the victim’s hand, where there’s a stamp. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What?” you ask.

He gestures to the hand. “That stamp? It’s admittance into the Mon Cherie. It’s a bar in the French Quarter.” He stands. “Nine years ago? It was called Jones.”

“Bingo,” Gideon says. He turns to JJ. “Get Garcia on the phone.”

*   *   *   *   *

At the Mon Cherie, Detective LaMontagne leads you all towards a man sitting alone at a table. “Smitty, how are you?” he says, holding out a hand to shake.

Smitty stares at him. “I hope you got a good reason for dredging this crap up,” he says coldly.

Detective LaMontagne lowers his hand. “Well I was hoping you might remember being called here with my daddy nine years ago.”

“Is that a joke?” Smitty asks, glaring at him.

The detective shakes his head. “No?”

Gideon steps forward. “My name’s Jason Gideon. We’re from the FBI. We’re investigating the series of murders in the French Quarter.”

Smitty shrugs. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“We need you to tell us what happened the night you and Detective LaMontagne answered the call in this bar,” Emily says. Smitty just stares at her.

“Am I missing something?” the detective asks.

Smitty smiles, and it makes you want to take a step back. “You really don’t know, do you? After that night, your daddy tried to bring me up on sanctions.”

“Why?” Detective LaMontagne asks.

“It was Mardi Gras. Some girl claimed she was raped,” Smitty tells him. You grit your teeth at his wording and flippant attitude. “I wasn’t buying it.” You fight the urge to cross your arms.

“What did she say happened to her?” JJ asks.

“Brass backed me up,” Smitty continues, ignoring JJ. “They ended up transferring your daddy out to shut him up.”

“What happened here?” Emily asks, glancing at you with a frown.

“It almost cost me my career.” Smitty ignores her.

“Do you mind telling us what happened?” Gideon asks the question this time.

Smitty stands, walking across the room. “My best recollection, she said she was sitting at the bar with two friends. One of the boys asked her if she wanted to play some pool. Witnesses claim she was up for anything.” You grit your teeth again but say nothing.

“She followed him up here?” Emily asks as he gets to the stairs.

Smitty nods. “His friend not far behind. She knew he was there.” You bite your lip. “That girl was a tease,” Smitty says. You want to punch the smug look off his face. “She was looking for a good time. Anyway, a couple guys were going along with that.”

“Did she yell out for help?” JJ asks.

“She said she did,” Smitty says, rolling his eyes. “But not a single person claimed that they heard her.”

“That’s what you registered as a disturbance?” you ask incredulously, your voice coming out louder than you mean for it to.

“It was Mardi Gras,” Smitty tells you. “Listen to me, that girl had enough beads hanging from her neck to jewel a small city. Anyone who exposes themself that much in one day isn’t a credible witness in my book.” You flex your fingers in an attempt to not curl them into a fist, a habit you formed as a child when you would get upset.

“But she wanted to press charges,” Detective LaMontagne says.

“I told her it was a waste of time,” Smitty says. “I knew one of the accused. He was a good kid.” He shakes his head. “He didn’t need the stink of that accusation.” You grab the bottom of your shirt into a fist.

Gideon sits down next to Smitty. “So you protected a rapist.”

Smitty scoffs. “Well, that right there was a bone of contention between his daddy and I. As far as I was concerned, no such rape ever took place. Now are you gonna tell me why you went and dragged this dirt back through my life?”

There’s a pause, and then Gideon speaks. “You know the serial killed who’s cutting up men in the French Quarter? She was your victim.”

“We’re trying to find a name,” Detective LaMontagne says. Smitty shakes his head.

“You don’t even remember her name?” Emily says.

Smitty rolls his eyes. “It was nine years ago.”

“Okay then, how about the name of the ‘good kid?’” you ask. “You know, the one who raped her.” Smitty takes another sip of his drink, not responding.

“Smitty,” Detective LaMontagne says. “You tell me right now or I’ll file a new sanction against you, and I guarantee you, this time it’ll stick.”

“Ronnie Thibideaux,” Smitty grumbles.

You turn and stalk outside, where you allow yourself to clench your hands into fists.

“You okay?” Emily asks from behind you.

You turn to face her. “I don’t like him.”

She smiles softly. “I can tell.”

“Was I that obvious?” you ask.

She shrugs. “Maybe not to a normal person, but I am a profiler, and it was written all over your face.”

You sigh. “I’ve watched enough SVU to know how common his mindset it, but I can’t fucking stand it.” You kick a pebble. “Like, he’s supposed to help protect people, not victimize them further! God, I fucking hate people.”

She puts an arm around your shoulders as the others exit the bar. “Caring so deeply about other people is a good thing,” she tells you. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Gideon gives you a questioning look, and you nod resolutely at him. “I’m good. Let’s go interview a rapist.”

*   *   *   *   *

Back at the station, you’re watching from the other side of the glass as Emily and JJ talk to the rapist, Ronnie.

“Mr. Thibideaux,” Emily starts, “we need you to answer a few questions about a disturbance you were involved with in 1998.”

Ronnie looks at her, a small smirk on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At a bar called Jones,” JJ adds. “It was Mardi Gras.”

“Well, then, I must’ve been drinking some, because I don’t remember a thing,” Ronnie says, that stupid smirk growing wider.

“We just need to know the name of your accuser,” Prentiss tells him.

Ronnie shakes his head. “Look, I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

JJ shakes her head. “The statute of limitations is up,” she says, rubbing her face. “We just need a name.”

“Someone accuses me of rape, I’m gonna remember her name,” Emily says, sitting down across from the rapist.

“Unless you’re used to it,” you grumble to yourself. “Probably raped other women, too.”

“Well what can I tell you, cher?” Ronnie says, slight agitation creeping into his voice. “I guess she didn’t make that good of an impression.”

“Oh, that fucker,” you seethe, fidgeting. Your cross your arms, then uncross them.

“Unlike yourself, right now?” Emily is saying to Ronnie.

“Y/L/N, take a breath,” Hotch says quietly from beside you, his tone soft.

You sigh. “I’m fine,” you tell him. “Just really hate rapists.” You refocus on the interrogation room.

“You know,” Ronnie says, leaning forward, a dangerous glint in his eye, “I’m guessing if someone did do something to that girl that night, then she was probably asking for it. Maybe even liked it.”

“Oh, what a fucking ass hat,” you say. “He’s not even gonna tell us a name!”

“Guy’s not giving up anything,” Detective LaMontagne says from behind you.

“Reid, after the double murder, what was the Ripper’s next move?” Hotch asks.

“He mutilated and dismembered Mary Kelly in her one-room flat until she was unrecognizable,” Reid reports. “It’s believed to be his most vicious kill of all.”

“He had privacy,” you say.

“And time to torture his victim before killing her,” Morgan adds. “Maybe we’re not too late.”

You shift your attention back to the interrogation room, where JJ is showing Ronnie pictures of the victims. “She murdered these men, and I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before she works her way back to the one she really wants to kill.” Ronnie looks at her abruptly, alarm written all over his face.

“She make an impression now?” Emily asks.

Ronnie swallows. “Sarah Danlin.”

You turn and walk away, grabbing a drink of water while JJ calls Garcia. She’s hanging up when you return, water in hand. “We got her,” she tells you.

*   *   *   *   *

At Sarah Danlin’s apartment, the team spreads out in groups to cover all entrances. You’re paired up with Hotch and Morgan, while Reid and Detective LaMontagne take the back entrance.

“Sarah Danlin! FBI! Open up!” Morgan yells. When there’s no answer, Hotch gives him a nod and he kicks the door in. You follow behind Hotch and Morgan, gun drawn, as you check each room.

“Clear!” you call out.

“Clear!” Morgan shouts.

You meet in the living room. “She’s definitely not here,” you say.

“Guys, there are some ripperologists who speculate that Mary Kelly was actually killed in a flat that Jack the Ripper rented for the night,” Reid says.

Morgan takes out his phone. “I’m gonna have Garcia check Sarah Danlin’s credit card accounts. It’s a long shot, but maybe we can trace her room back to her charge cards.”

You look closer at the coffee table. “Look.”

“Souvenirs,” Hotch says, picking up a paper. “These are from bars in the French Quarter. This is from Mon Cherie.”

Morgan shakes his head. “She’s trolling for victims in the place where it all began.”

“She can’t move on,” Hotch says. “The rape isn’t the whole story. I’ll bet there’s a history of sexual abuse that contributes to her rage as well.”

“It’s almost like by taking on the Ripper persona, she was trying to kill something within herself,” Reid says.

Morgan’s phone rings. He opens it and puts it on speaker. “Yeah, mama, what do you got?”

“Sarah Danlin’s Visa was charged an hour ago at the Royal Ruby Inn,” Garcia tells him.

Morgan smiles. “Ah, baby girl, you never disappoint. Thank you.” He hangs up and looks at the detective.

“That’s two blocks from here,” Detective LaMontagne says.

“Let’s go,” you say, everyone rushing out of the room and back to the SUVs.

It only takes a minute to get to the Inn, and you jump out of the car as soon as it stops, following Hotch at a run. He quickly describes Sarah Danlin to the desk attendant, who directs you to her rented room.

Hotch kicks the door open to find Sarah Danlin standing over a naked man who’s tied to the bed by his wrists. She has a knife in her hand. “FBI!” Hotch shouts.

“Drop the knife!” you tell her.

“Drop the weapon!” Hotch repeats.

“He wanted it,” Sarah says, pointing the knife at the man’s throat. “And he got it.”

“Put it down, now,” Morgan says.

Hotch raises his wrist to his mouth. “We need an EMT tech right away,” he says quietly into the receiver.

Sarah looks over her shoulder, focusing on you. “What are you waiting for?”

Morgan shakes his head. “Ma’am, we don’t want to shoot you,” he says.

She smiles humorlessly, looking at Morgan. “Be such a shame to waste this. Do you want it, too?”

“What we want is for you to please put the knife down,” Morgan says.

“Come on,” Sarah tells him. “Don’t fight it.”

You shake your head. “Sarah, please. We don’t want to hurt you.”

Detective LaMontagne comes into the room, lowering his weapon. “Sarah,” he says carefully. “My name’s William LaMontagne Jr. You knew my daddy?” Sarah’s eyes fill with tears as Detective LaMontagne inches his way closer to her. “Hey there. You trusted him, so trust me.”

“Where is he?” Sarah asks him.

“The storm took him,” the detective tells her. A tear rolls down her cheek. The detective puts a hand out, slowly reaching for the knife. “Come on. It’s over.” Sarah gives him the knife and breaks down, falling into his arms. “It’s over,” he repeats, carrying her out of the room.

You immediately start working to free the victim from his restraints, taking out your knife and slicing though the fabric. “You’re going to be okay,” you tell him as the EMTs rush into the room and begin their assessment.

You follow the EMTs as they load the victim into a stretcher and wheel him out to the ambulance, breaking away from them when you notice JJ and Prentiss pulling up.

“Hey,” you greet them. JJ gives you a nod as she walks over to where the detective is leaning against his car. You smile over at them.

“What’s that look for?” Emily asks, following your line of sight.

You shrug. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease.

She laughs before her expression turns more serious. “I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re okay.”

You nod. “I’m good. I just hate that rape isn’t taken seriously a lot of the time. There’s a quote, something along the lines of, ‘rape is the only crime where you have to prove the victim’s innocence.’ I just hate that that’s pretty much true. It doesn’t matter if the victim was walking around naked, as long as they say don’t provide consent, it’s rape.” You sigh. “I’m lucky enough to never have been sexually assaulted, but I know a lot of women who were. Well, you know. I used to know a lot of women who were,” you correct yourself, frowning. “Anyway, as much as I miss my old life, I’m glad I found a new family, too. The BAU and the Jeffersonian team are the only reason I’m able to function, really. I’m not sure what I’d do without you guys.”

She smiles, putting an arm around you. “You’ll never find out.”

[sunnydayzes]

The girls high school graduation came and went in a blur! Dina had been so nervous to give her valedictorian speech, especially given everything that she had been through in the past few weeks, but the speech flowed rather effortlessly. It helped that even though she had to see the face of the man that ruined her life in the crowd - his now-fiancé was noticeably absent from the crowd of friends and family.

The girls also couldn't help but notice that Katrina and Don had also chosen to skip the graduation. Dina knew that both of them likely had to work, and while she hadn't been expecting for Don to show, she was a little disappointed not to see her mother's face in the crowd. Nina shrugged it off like it was nothing, but something wasn't adding up. Dina had noticed the tension between her mother and her sister in the last few weeks, and she had also noticed how it seemed to Katrina was almost glad to be rid of Nina from her house. Dina hoped her sister hadn't done what she had warned her not to do, but she couldn't push the feeling of dread from her chest

Regardless, she chose to ignore the feelings in her gut and focus on the fact that it was time to celebrate. High school was over now, and it was time for her to start her life! Now, all she needed to do was hear back from UBrite and pray that she got in to one of the prestigious acting curriculums in the country.

Until then, the girls had a party to get to at their new place.

<PREVIOUS | LA FAMILIA CALIENTE 🌶️ | NEXT>

[girljeremystrong]

do u have a book rec that will ruin me emotionally? i want to be upset. but in a nice way. sort of like how la vita è bella makes me upset or a thousand splendid suns makes me upset. i need a bittersweet ending i will think about forever. or something. sorry for the random question shshsjsjs <3 all g if you can’t think of anything i just thought i’d ask you first

of course i do!! ❤️

so here are some book that are upsetting and heartbreaking and made me upset and made me cry:

the great believers by rebecca makkai

i cried and cried and didn't recover for days. a dazzling new novel of friendship and redemption in the face of tragedy and loss set in 1980s chicago and contemporary paris.

the fortune men by nadifa mohamed

how frustrating and sad this was, made me cry and made me mad! the story of a murder, a miscarriage of justice, and a man too innocent for his times.

tin man by sarah winman

why is love so miserable? ellis and michael are twelve when they first become friends, and then one day this closest of friendships grows into something more. but then we fast forward a decade or so, to find that ellis is married to annie, and michael is nowhere in sight, what happened in the years between?

the summer that melted everything by tiffany mcdaniel

this writer is outstanding! when a local prosecutor publishes an invitation to the devil to come to the country town of breathed, ohio, nobody quite expected that he would turn up. they especially didn't expect him to turn up a tattered and bruised thirteen-year-old boy.

betty by tiffany mcdaniel

i cried through entire chapters of this. a stunning, lyrical novel set in the rolling foothills of the appalachians in which a young girl discovers stark truths that will haunt her for the rest of her life. "a girl comes of age against the knife."

swimming in the dark by tomasz jedrowski

so sad and infuriating!!! set in early 1980s poland against the violent decline of communism, a tender and passionate story of first love between two young men who eventually find themselves on opposite sides of the political divide

crying in h mart by michelle zauner

just hundreds of pages about a death so sad and inevitable. a memoir about growing up korean american, losing her mother, and forging her own identity.

the prophets by robert jones jr.

everything about this is upsetting and maddening. a novel about the forbidden union between two enslaved young men on a deep south plantation, the refuge they find in each other, and a betrayal that threatens their existence.

yolk by mary h.k. choi

to me all stories about siblings are intrinsically tragic. a funny and emotional story about two estranged sisters switching places and committing insurance fraud to save one of their lives.

mayflies by andrew o'hagan

so sad but also a glorious celebration of life. a memorial to youth's euphorias and to everyday tragedy. a tender goodbye to an old union, it discovers the joy and the costs of love.

salvage the bones by jesmyn ward

an absolute masterpiece!!! hurricane katrina is threatening the coastal town of bois sauvage. esch and her three brothers are stocking food. she's fourteen and pregnant. as the twelve days that comprise the novel's framework yield to the final day, the unforgettable family pulls itself up to struggle for another day.

tell the wolves i'm home by carol rifka brunt

sad and sweet and also nothing is more heartbreaking than how people with aids were treated in the 80s. a moving story of love, grief, and renewal as two lonely people become the unlikeliest of friends and find that sometimes you don't know you've lost someone until you've found them. in 1987 after her uncle dies of hiv a fourteen year old girl gets to know his uncle's partner.

an american marriage by tayari jones

this woman is an incredible writer! this book is so absolutely frustrating. newlyweds celestial and roy are the embodiment of both the american dream and the new south. but as they settle into the routine of their life together, they are ripped apart. roy is arrested and sentenced to twelve years for a crime celestial knows he didn’t commit.

flowers for algernon by daniel keyes

heart-wrenching!!!! it's the story of a mentally disabled man whose experimental quest for intelligence mirrors that of algernon, an extraordinary lab mouse.

and among the classics:

if this is a man by primo levi

the account of the author's experience from when he was captured to his transfer as part of 650 italian jews from to auschwitz in poland and his experiences until the end.

all quiet on the western front by erich maria remarque

with the fire and patriotism of youth a group of german schoolboys sign up to go to war. what follows is the moving story of a young ‘unknown soldier’ experiencing the horror and disillusionment of life in the trenches.

giovanni's room by james baldwin

an american expatriate living in the south of france, reminisces about his life, while his ex-lover, an Italian immigrant named giovanni, is set to be executed in the morning.

if beale street could talk by james baldwin

a moving story of love in the face of injustice. tishis a nineteen-year-old girl, in love with fonny, a young sculptor who is the father of her child. they have pledged to get married, but tonny is falsely accused of a terrible crime and imprisoned. their families set out to clear his name.

[golbrocklovely]

I just wanna say that I don’t care who they date, however is kinda sad how Sam and Katrina doesn’t seem even to be friends anymore. Like I understand that Katelyn might not be comfortable with Sam and Kat being close, which is not weird at all, after all Katrina was Sam longest relationship and they actually at some point of their lives planned to marry, however i just think it’s sad that they do not seem to even be in each other lives even as distant friends who still would be there for eo and support eo if something goes wrong .

But i hope it in some future they will fix their relationship, not in a romantic sense, but more like a friendship, cause i think everyone can agree that despite everything, Katrina was a good friend to both Sam and Colby and after Colby she was probably the second closest friend that Sam had. So i just hope that one day Sam and Kat would be able to just be friends again, even if both of them would be in relationship ( kinda the way Jake and Tara are rn)

i know what you mean. i think it is a little sad, but i also feel like it's for the best as of right now. maybe years down the line they'll be okay to be friends again. but i just feel like rn everything is a little too sensitive for both parties. both have shown to be somewhat petty towards the other since the break up, and while i get why, in the long run that would just end up ruining any friendship they would create.

but who knows. things can always change. there is plenty of time for both of them to grow up, move on, and maybe then they can come back around and be friends once again.

or maybe not. if it's meant to be, it will be.

[championofravens]

For characters thing, lemme see some love for Saladin perhaps? 👀

Y'know, I really don't need to do any work today *sweeps everything off my desk onto the floor*

favorite thing about them

I just love that he's an old man!! I love everything that stems from that: the rigid politeness and formalities he sticks by that contrast with the crudeness and roughness he's used to over the centuries of battle. The unwavering honesty but also the lack of emotional intelligence, making him closed off and clipped but not on purpose. I love how he takes ownership of what he loves. I love how he confronts his follies and flaws head on, especially when it hurts. I love that he's stubborn and stuck in his ways and grumpy and doesn't get jokes. He is so fucking smoochable.

least favorite thing about them

*motions to all of Season of the Risen* I hated that whole thing, generally. I hate that he is just quietly stoically resigned to his fate with Caiatl the most though. I fucking hate it. I hate how he rewards Crow for fucking him over and I just hate the whole turn his character took here. I miss when he was racist.

favorite line

Oh goodness that's easy. It's 100% this little speech he gave after the Warmind expansion came out in D2. And the line that sent me to my grave:

"I will not abide losing you, Guardian."

brOTP

I want more lore about Felwinter and him being friends :( or really, him and any of the Iron Lords. All the lore of him being happy with Jolder makes my heart happy

OTP

The old man is fuckable only to and for Young Wolves and I stand by that

nOTP

Why would you ruin the humor of whatever the fuck he and Shaxx have going on by making them actually have gay sex. Booooo

random headcanon

He's 7'2 for realsies. His apartment is littered with dead plants he made honest efforts to take care of. He spent his last night on Earth walking the farms on the outskirts of the Last City, doing a patrol no one does anymore, retracing old footsteps and freeing coyotes from traps.

unpopular opinion

He is significantly hotter and more fuckable than Shaxx in every single way, I'm sorry, it is just the TRUTH

song i associate with them

You know, Saladin has always been such a goddamn pain for me to put a playlist together for... so I don't have one! And whether it makes sense to anyone else or not, I'm gonna drop Weather in my Head from one of my favorite old men in music, Donald Faegan.

Here comes my own Katrina, the levee comes apart There's an ocean of misery floodin' my heart

They may fix the weather in the world Just like Mr. Gore said But tell me what's to be done Lord 'bout the weather in my head

favorite picture of them

He's so fucking fine in Rise of Iron........ I wanna kiss the crease between his brows

[neon-green-reagent]

Vampire Films That Suck My Blood

But don’t SUCK. You know? What I mean? They’re good. Anyway. 

Let’s start with the super obvious ones you’ve probably seen. And if you haven’t, go see them, they’re classics. Near Dark (my personal favorite), The Lost Boys, Interview With The Vampire, Horror of Dracula (Hammer), ‘Salem’s Lot, Blacula, From Dusk Till Dawn, Let The Right One In, and Fright Night, by which I mean the one from the 80s. Now we can get into some deeper cuts. 

Night Owl | Filmed in black and white and set against the backdrop of the New York nightclub scene of the early 90s, this one is OOPS ALL VIBES. It’s full of house music and brutal murders. One of those films that feels intensely gay despite its best efforts to be straight. Very moody and arthouse. Obviously I recommend the hell out of this for a very specific crowd of people.

Pale Blood | What a nutso concept. A human is running around killing people in the style of a vampire. So a real vampire shows up to stop him. With Wings Hauser being super unhinged, as he tends to do. Lots of neon lighting that makes it all extremely 80s. And a neat little turn at the end that gives it a satisfying twist. 

Bliss | Vampirism as addiction. It’s been said, but this isn’t just about having an insatiable need. It’s about getting so goddamn high that you destroy everything around you and awaken from being blackout destructive and realize you’re ruining your own life. Pretty intense stuff. Meaning it’s very bloody and wild. It goes the extra mile, for certain. The main character is a painter, so there is also a super gorgeous painting that she creates in her very high moments that I wish I could have on my wall. 

The Night Flier | An adaptation of a Stephen King short story starring Miguel Ferrer, which I personally feel should be recommendation enough. But I’ll gladly keep going. Ferrer plays a tabloid journalist who is chasing after a serial killer who thinks he’s a vampire. THINKS, right? He just THINKS he is? Well, the deeper he goes, the more it looks like he has a real one on his hands. And he’s so fucking cynical that he’s probably going to stare into the abyss and the abyss will stare right back. 

30 Days of Night | Hey, I just recently rewatched this one. It still slaps. In Alaska, there are periods during the year where the sun doesn’t rise at all. In this case, a bunch of vampires are like SWEET. And go there and absolutely body slam everyone in town. A handful of survivors are left trying to defend themselves against these superhuman creatures that are... just the scariest looking fucking things. It looks like if a human were crossbred with a shark. What a LOOK. There are so many memorable and standout moments in this movie. Truly just watch it. 

Fright Night Part 2 | We all know the first movie. But the sequel tho. DAT SEQUEL. The big draw being Jerry’s sister Regine and her entourage of absolute characters that follow her everywhere. They’re out for revenge for the death of her brother, and suddenly the tables are turned. Charley becomes the one that can’t resist the vampire’s charms, and Regine is laughing all the way to the blood bank. She’s a queen. 

Vamp | Another intensely memorable and awesome female vampire. Grace Jones dominates the screen here as Katrina. A vampire stripper who kills when she mates. She for sure steals every scene she’s in, but the movie is also bombastically neon 80s with the dumbest and most fun sense of humor. It’s a charming movie with an amazing villainess. 

The Hunger | AND ANOTHER! Sorry for being so gay, but here’s a lesbian vampire movie. Miriam Blaylock is a vampire looking for love. And she both cares and doesn’t if that means eventually keeping your desiccated, still alive body in a box somewhere down the line. She’s a complicated lady. This was beautifully shot, very dream-like, and also stars David Bowie for some extra gay. 

Dracula (1979) | Genuinely my favorite version of Dracula. It was based off of a stage play version. Which means all the names are reversed and nothing lines up with the book, but Dracula just seems fated to be adapted very loosely. Frank Langella swaggers rather moodily through the piece, melting every woman he passes with a look. I like this take, that Dracula is just a Chad that no one can possibly outdo because no one is good looking enough to stop him. It’s all rather romantic and swoony while also featuring one of the most terrifying ghouls in cinema history. 

The Forsaken | Vampirism as an STD. If you’re bitten, you’ll battle daily with the virus that’s trying to consume you. Which makes the movie coded extremely queer, which is very fun for everyone, because it thankfully doesn’t stop there. The bad guys are super flamboyant and fun. The good guys are getting a little too involved with each other and sort of ignoring the girl sitting between them. And it makes one wish they could’ve just made it as gay as they wanted to, but the subtext is still very fun. It’s also action packed and exciting. Think 2001 version of Near Dark. 

[maxsimagination]

𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝘂𝗺 - 𝗸.𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆

summary: harper plays match-maker & inadvertently manages to get her mum to go ask a girl out.

𖦹 masterlist

"𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗞𝗔𝗧, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 seen harps?"

i knocked on katrina's hotel room door, but there was no response so i walked in. i was going to take harper down with me so katrina could get ready, but immediately stopped in my tracks when a saw the scene before me. harper was on the bed, katrina curled around her, both sound asleep.

my heart melted seeing my two favourite people together like that. as much as i wanted to let kat sleep longer, i knew i had to wake her up. coach wanted us down in a half hour for a team meeting about the game.

"kat, you gotta wake up now." i sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her arm, shaking her a bit. she came to after a few moments of me shaking her lightly. kat's groggy face turned to look at who was tearing her from her sleep. "hey sleeping beauty." i grinned down at her. "mm, i jus' need five more minutes."

"we have that meeting soon, you gotta get up, min." everyone in the team called her mini, or min, because of her short stature, but i was an exception. i called her kat, only on occasion did i switch it for mini.

"fuuuuckk." she drawled out. eventually she sat up slowly and got up. the small child next to her had shuffled around and woke up at the slight commotion near her. "hey harps." i ruffled her her a bit and she giggled at me. i picked her up and smoothed down her clothes before katrina walked out of the bathroom, her hair fixed and looking slightly less tired.

"let's head down, yea?"

i only received a light mumble in response, kat's way of agreeing. we knew each other in and out by now, we'd been best friends for years. probably from the first time we met years ago at her then club, brisbane roar, and soon after mine.

i had signed a deal with the club, contracted for 5 years. katrina had already been there for a year or two when i joined, but her contract ran out two years before mine did. she moved from there that year, signing with some other club over in england, leaving me behind.

unbeknownst to me, she did a stint with the club in england but then moved to a sweden club which i would later sign with. it was a big offer from them and a big sign for me, having to move from australia to sweden and play for vittsjö gik. but i quickly decided it was the best decision i'd made in my life when i saw katrina on the training field at my first session. we were inseparable and attached at the hip again, we went everywhere together.

i had, very, quickly caught some sort of feelings towards the older woman when we first met and didn't know how to feel about that fact, choosing to ignore the butterflies that made chaos of my abdomen when i saw her.

i never knew if she had felt the same, and didn't want to ruin what bond we had together so i never said a word. now here we are, at national camp together, about 10 years later. it was a messy situation, especially on my end, but i made the most of it, loving every moment i got to spend with katrina, and her little harper.

"thank you for looking after harps, yn." she brought me out of my little daydream with her gratitude. "it's all good, kat. i love the kid as much as anyone." harper wriggled around in my arms at my words.

we had made it to the meeting room then, and joined the rest of the team to take a seat.

——

it felt like a whole year had gone by after we left that room. my butt had gone numb from how long i was in that seat for. harper was in my arms again as me and kat walked out and towards the cafeteria. i honestly thought i could eat a horse, my last meal was at breakfast, almost 5 hours ago. i grabbed what i could fit onto my plate and raced over to a table and placed everything on the surface. katrina handed harper off to me while she went to get her's and harps lunch.

we sat in comfortable silence eating our food, me more so devouring. i finished everything on my plate and was finally full. both kat and harper were still eating, and both were laughing at me and my content sighs after eating for two people. "shut up, i was starving." i send a joking look to kat and she laughs some more at me.

"mama. water, please." harper's voice catches us both off guard, and we both just stare at her as she looks at me and makes grabby hands for my water bottle.

"did she..?" i trail off in a silent question to katrina. "yea.. she did." i went white as a sheet, body frozen. i finally found it in me and passed harper my water bottle. the kid latches onto it and drinks some. i was still shocked and hadn't uttered any words other than confirming what we'd both seen with kat.

my brain seemed to malfunction as my mind told me i needed to leave. i grabbed my plate, making some sort of excuse to get out of the room.

i bolted, heading for my own room this time. i flopped down on my bed, mind racing a million miles and hour. harper called me mama! i was elated but also worried at the same time. what if kat didn't want her kid to think of me as her second mum? my nerves and anxiety were called to the forefront and i kept asking myself questions without answers.

it felt like two seconds but there was a knock on my door, and suddenly it opened. i shot upright, and seeing it was kat, flopped back down.

i couldn't even look her in the face as she walked over. "yn. are you okay?" "umm, yes?" it came out more as a question rather than a statement. "you're not. you were white as a ghost before." a split second of reckless thought sent me over the edge and i blurted. "harper called me mama." i didn't know what i was doing, i just needed to air that statement.

"yea, about that. i'm sorry, i didn't know she saw it like that." "you're.. sorry?" i was confused. did she not want me to be a mum to harper? "yea, i didn't think you wanted things to be like that."

surely she's joking. "kat.." i sat up and took a deep breath.

"katrina, i would love to be a mum to harper. i never told you any of this, and it's been at least 4 years of me bottling up my feelings. i have liked you so much, for the longest time. i have wanted nothing more to hug you as more than friends for the longest time. but i never said anything because i didn't want to ruin our friendship. you're like my best friend. but i want us to be more."

shit. i just ruined it didn't i? i looked up at katrina tentatively, scared to see her expression.

surprisingly, it wasn't one of hate. she almost looked.. relieved? "oh thank god." that was a new one. she sat down next to me so we were eye level again.

"i am so glad you said something, i would have gone another few years without saying anything. i like you so much more than friends, yn. i can't even begin to explain how thankful i am to have you in my life, to help me with harper, or to just be with me when i need a shoulder to cry on."

what she says catches me off guard, i fully expected her to shun me and tell me she wasn't interested.

"wait.. really?" she nods with a smile. "yes really. you mean so much to me-" i cut her off by pressing my lips to hers. she freezes up but just as quickly, kisses me back. her lips are soft, sweet, they taste like caramel. i had my hands on either side of her face. she moves hers down to wrap around my waist. everything around us stops moving as we continue in our own little world. finally we break apart to take a breath.

"katrina-lee gorry, do you wanna be my girlfriend?"

"always, yn yln."