#that put her in danger because she nearly got kidnapped a couple of times

[pergaminaa]

Modern au:

When Dorian started dating Manon, he was able to see a few things in her that made him suspect something was off. At that point, he was able to see the pressure her grandmother put her under and he felt helpless in the face of that kind of thing.

Manon was really going out of her way to make sure everything is perfect and yet her grandmother kept scrutinizing her.

At formal events, he got to see that first hand. Manon would be super stressed, it would get worse about 2-3 days prior where her anxiety is at it’s peak; she won’t be able to sleep, and can’t keep anything down.

Dorian can see all of her effort and yet her grandmother’s responses are a variety of

“Don’t embarrass me,”

“What a disgrace,”

“This is worthless,”

And it really angers him.

But that was nothing compared to what he saw when they moved in together.

Prior to that, Manon was able to maintain her mask of aloofness and perfection. It was only when they lived together than Dorian saw how she struggles with insecurity and abandonment issues.

He learned of the long months she’d spend at boarding school, her grandmother wouldn’t allow her to return home if her grades are anything below a 100%. She’d call her an embarrassment and let her spend the holidays studying and making up for those grades.

He also saw how she struggles with boundaries sometimes. Moreover, he noticed that she instantly panics whenever she thinks that she made a mistake. Like forgetting her jacket on the counter, or leaving some of her work behind on the coffee table.

Dorian hates hates hates how her grandmother turned her into this person. She honestly believes that as soon as she commits the tiniest mistake, Dorian is going to leave and find someone better. He told her time and again that he doesn’t want anyone else, better or worse. He wants only her and nothing will ever change that.

But of course, his reassurance does nothing to elevate those issues that have been there for two decades. All he can is promise to always be there, that no matter what happens he isn’t going to leave or find someone else.

Now another issue is their families. They attend the same social circles and their families no each other. Chaol is against their relationship because he wants someone other than a Blackbeak to be with his friend. Aelin doesn’t care much, she tries to get along with Manon but the two of them don’t spend any time together to have any sort of relationship.

Then there are his parents; Georgina wants to pick her son’s lifelong partner. The fact that he’s with the Blackbeak heir infuriates her to no end.

Now normally he would ignore everyone and does as he pleases. However, now that he lives with Manon and knows exactly how vulnerable she is, he had a meeting with his parents and Chaol.

He sat them all down, and told them in no certain terms that if he brings Manon over for a visit, if any one of them make her feel unwanted, he’d get her out of there immediately and never return back there.

Dorian is serious, she’s been though enough and he sees how she struggles. That the perfectly put up woman is hiding a lot of things underneath and he hates how he can’t shoulder some of those things. All he can do is love her through it all and hope that one day it will be enough.

[miirohs]

nightingale [m.v.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Max Verstappen x Nurse!Reader wc: 1.7k cw: indications of ppd (not explicit but you'd have to read the lines for it), max is not the most mentally stable, abuse mentioned (not in detail) an: elle is 100% made up and if yall want more family content hmu i can do it 😝 also, the nightingale oath isn’t universally used, but essentially it’s almost the same thing as the Hippocratic oath doctors take :)

“She won’t stop crying!” Max snapped, frustratedly clutching the rails of the crib as the baby in it cried relentlessly, giving you a crazed look from the corner of his eye as you got closer. It was like dealing with a wounded animal that refused your help.

“Breath Max. Breath.” From the moment you had arrived at the Verstappen home, it had been walking on eggshells, anger fueling his every waking move from as far as three weeks as he prowled around the house.

“Godverdomme (goddamnit) Y/n, I know that! Why is she crying though?!”

You reached out a hand, stroking his back gently. You ought to be as angry as him for having you snatched off the streets but you couldn’t, not with the reveal of his child. You had the barest idea of what he might have been going through.

“I don’t know, I'm not… yeah.” The look in his eyes turned sharp and you closed your mouth, staring down at your hands.

“I’m leaving, I can’t do this right now. Don’t come after me or else.” He threatened, the anger on his face fading into a stoic look as he turned away from the child, one look you feared more than his explosive anger.

It wasn’t until he left the room, gun drawn in hand, that you could breathe again, nearly collapsing to the floor.

You turned around, weakly holding the rails. You could hear him barking at the guards from inside the room, fading into the distance as your anticipation slowly died down. You thought that maybe today, you were good as dead.

The baby’s fussing had died down long before you had finally noticed. You hesitated when looking at her, reaching in to pick her up gently.

“Hi Elle.”

All the baby did was look at you blankly, eyes still wet from the countless tears that’d been shed before Max left. She had his gorgeous blue eyes, but most likely her mothers soft face.

You knew he was a dangerous man, and now you supposed the baby knew as well, seeing the way she’d been crying before Max had finally left the room. It wasn’t an isolated incident as well, building up across many miniature incidents.

The most shocking part, though, was the fact you’d been told the biggest kingpin in the Netherlands had a child. You would’ve laughed in the face of the person telling you before, but now it felt realer than it had been for the last couple weeks.

You gently cradled the baby in your arm, rocking her lightly as you looked out the door ajar to the hall. You could hear the guard grumbling in discontent as they went about their business, yet none of the commotion had bothered Elle. 

She had finally fallen asleep in your arms, gripping onto your finger as you put her down, a strong sense of familiarity washing over you. 

You spent a good part of your time caring for children, as this was no different to you.

Letting go of the crib, you steeled your nerves to walk out the room, arms crossed in front of your protectively as you eyed the men in the hall.

One of the guards, Daniel, held you back gently by the shoulder, looking at you with curious eyes. This was probably one of the more rare times seeing you, it was like you’d never left the nursery from the moment you got here.

“You can’t-”

“He kidnapped me from my own home Daniel. I don’t think he has a right to keep me from going wherever I want in his house.” You snapped, surprised at how hoarse your voice seemed.

He didn’t fight you, simply nodding and slinking back to his spot because there wasn’t much he could do to convince you to stay. 

You could easily recall your steps to the kitchen, the heat in your feet dispelled by the cold tiles as you entered.

You didn’t know how long you were there, standing blankly at the sink as the water continued to fill up in the glass.

The glass was overfilling and you watched it, hands clenched into fists before you released them entirely, weight rolling off your shoulders.

The sound of a door slamming snapped you out of your stupor, turning off the sink and staring into the dimly illuminated living room.

Max came through the door, blood staining his shirt and face, dirt smudge across his nose and cheeks. He noticed you, a look of disparagement in his eyes as he got closer. Looking into his eyes, it really reminded you of Elle.

He ignored you as he limped into the kitchen, opening a cabinet with more gentleness than you’d seen in days.

“I thought I told you not to leave her alone?” He said, voice scratchy and low as if he’d been screaming. 

“She’s finally asleep.”

You responded. He didn’t bother to critize you again, popping open the bottle of whisky and pouring it into a glass. 

He limped back to the living room, settling into an armchair with his back to the cityline. He looked almost formidable as the harsh shadows cast lines on his face.

“You sure have a way of showing you care, Max.”

“I know you aren’t criticizing me now, schat.” He laughed humorlessly, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh yeah, because kidnapping someone to take care of your child really says you love them.” You snarked, eyes trailing to his sides. 

There were minor tears when you hadn’t seen his shirt before he left, heart beating loudly as you got a glimpse of his bloodied side as he pushed himself up.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you think happened?” He said, rolling his eyes as he lowered the glass from his lips.

“Well, this isn’t healthy. For you or Elle.” You said wearily, finger tracing the rim of the glass. “Have you ever considered therapy? It might-“

“No.” 

You blinked, surprised by his sudden refusal. “Why not?”

“I can’t. Do you know the kind of risk that poses?” He grumbled, clearly offended at you for suggesting so.

“Okay then, sure would’ve been better if you’d kidnapped a therapist rather than an underpaid nurse to do that job for you. Secrecy and all.” 

“That’s how you want to play then? I’ll give you the money, then leave this place and never come back, if you’re that desperate.” He gritted through clenched teeth, temper clearly being dialed up by the reminder.

“What? Absolutely not.” It was your turn to reject his offer, staring at him blankly. You didn’t know why that made you feel so upset.

“I’m offering you money and allowing you to leave, what more could you want, schat?” He scoffed, sharply putting down the whiskey glass as he held his head in the other hand.

“I can't just leave her like that, you know that as well as I do.” He remained silent, which you took as permission to get closer to him.

He didn’t protest as you leaned over, yet flinched slightly as you pulled his shirt up.

“Calm down, if I had any intention of hurting you, you’d know.” You rolled your eyes, turning up the light a little more so you could see the full extent of his wounds.

“I don’t think it’s necessary-“ 

You cut him off with a sharp inhale. The other miniature wounds stared back at you, barely cuts compared to the jagged scar that ran down his side. “When did this happen?” You whispered.

He slammed his glass down again and you flinched back, split seconds before you could look him in the eyes again. They were slightly sorrowful, but otherwise empty, where there had been every negative emotion a human could muster moments before.

“It was my dad.”

“Did he…” You didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing your doubts as you stared at it.

“Yes. It was in a fight. He won, obviously.” He answered, short and clipped as his posture dropped slightly. 

“Is this why you don’t want Elle? Because you don’t want her to go through-” You asked meekly, cut off almost instantly. “The old man is dead. I killed him myself, made sure he couldn’t lay a single hand on anyone else.” Max hissed, a few beats passing in between the both of you.

“Do you know anything about her mother maybe? I could probably pull together something if-”

“She’s dead.” 

You blinked, mouth gaping slightly.

“She was a prostitute. Most likely gone from all the drugs up her system by now. That’s why I needed you. Our old doctor… left his position early.” 

You watched him get up from his spot, clearly done with the conversation, but something about what he said seemed to strike a chord in you.

“So you brought me to make sure-“

“The baby wasn’t affected. You weren’t a doctor but you did just fine I suppose.” He finished, back to you and he poured himself another one.

“Max, do you know what a Nightingale oath is?”

“Een nacht wat (a night what)?” You continued on, though you had a feeling you knew what he said.

“It’s an oath some of us take. To protect and to serve.”

You got up, feet pattering against the ground as you got closer to him.

“I don’t think anyone really abides by it anymore-“ He let out a short laugh, clearly unbelieving of your words as you continued, “-but maybe, just maybe, that’s why I haven’t gone home just yet.”

“Are you sure you want this Y/n? When you could just as easily leave and go home now?” He muttered softly, hunched over the countertop as your hand met his back.

“I’m sure. You need the help Max. You can’t deny it.”

“Then so be it nachtegaal. I can’t stop you when you’ve made up your mind.” He murmured, steely blue eyes meeting your own as he held your gaze.

“Maybe, once you’re well enough, you can finally form some connection to the child.” You sighed, looking at him. “I promise it.”

“You’re very confident in this plan of yours.”

You smiled inwardly at his words. “Why else would I be here if I wasn’t?”

[anxiousnerdwritings]

obscurial!aunt!Reader and Bellatrix becoming an official couple after the war ends when they shared a heated moment right before the Battle of Hogwarts started though everyone but aunt!Reader knew Bellatrix was desperately in love with her beforehand and she just didn’t pick it up because she couldn’t imagine anyone who would want to be with an obscurial

and Bellatrix takes a lot of initiative in the relationship to the others surprise because she knows her darling is insecure.

yeah, she’s unhinged as fuck, but you guys know what?

she’s technically considered a war hero, has retained a respectable job for the last seven (eight?) years teaching defence against the dark arts at Hogwarts since Harry started first year you know she’s forcing him to go back and redo his missed seventh year if he even missed it int the first place and she’s very obviously affectionate and obsessed with her obscurial darling. they eat every meal together. she’s been seen several times giving her flowers collected from the forbidden forest and sometimes just sitting quietly in the library as they grade assignments.

so imagine one of the professors asking the reader if she’s got any spring holiday plans since Harry, Ron and Hermione are staying behind since it’s their final year and they just want to chill and enjoy a peaceful year together and she just casually mentions Bellatrix booked the two of them a cruise ship through TerrorTours that will sail them through the Bermuda Triangle so they could have a romantic getaway now that all the war business is done and the professor is just like “what the fuck?” and Harry has a mini heart attack while Hermione is already trying to look up the travel agencies fucking fatality rates

just to fuck with them Bellatrix mentions that the travel agency offers life insurance apart of the travel package so if they died it’s okay cause Harry would get like a half a million galleons if they both died 😂 poor Harry calls them every day to make sure they’re okay and the following summer they take Harry, Ron and Hermione on a camping trip along the Zombie Trail before they start pursuing career just cause Bellatrix want to prove the dangerous vacations are fun.

it becomes a little tradition among the girlfriends to have a bit of good ole, adrenaline pumping fun two or three times a year

I just love the idea of yan!Bellatrix never giving yan!Harry any peace when it comes to his beloved aunt!Reader. Like, he of course knows that Bellatrix adores his aunt and worships the ground she walks on, she’s proven that enough by now, but the poor boy can’t help the sudden panic attacks that nearly take him out whenever she makes plans for the Reader and her outside of him being incorporated. He’s happy his aunt is happy and being loved but he still feels the need to be overprotective, to the max.

I do like the thought of Harry and Hermione especially having such anxiety for the Reader during their holiday cruise that they drag Ron along and sneak aboard to keep an eye on the Reader. They all know Bellatrix would never let anything happen to the Reader but they just gotta be sure, y’know. What if the Reader falls overboard?! What if someone tries to kidnap the Reader?? What if, Merlin forbid, the Reader and Bellatrix don’t come back home and want to have fresh start away from all of them??!?!???

Also, the thought of yan!Bellatrix just being an absolute romantic for the Reader in her own dark way. Like, it’s not completely dark but she of course has to put her own little twist on things.

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 4

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, minor talk of CM type violence, smut, fingering, oral, face sitting, daddy kink. Sorry not sorry at how long this chapter is. LOL. A/N: Emily's taglist is now up to 50, so if you find that you're suddenly not being tagged it's simply because I haven't seen you interacting with fics at all or in my notifs (while i understand that yes, life is busy, we have things like school, work, families that take priority over reading/interacting, there are also people out there who fill out a taglist form and then are never heard from again) and i want to be able to tag the people who are actively reading things, or at least bookmarking them to read later kinda thing.

Emily woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand, her eyes scrunching as she tried to avoid it but knew it would likely wake you up if she didn’t silence it. To her surprise when she rolled over the hotel room was empty, the sheets on your bed tossed back and you were nowhere to be seen. Sitting up she swiped open the messages on her phone, discovering that you and Spencer had found a lead and were already down at the precinct starting to put things together despite the sun not even being up yet.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Emily nearly grumbled as she strode into the bull pen, making a beeline for the coffee and you let out a small laugh.

“I managed to knock over the entire toiletry shelf when I showered and you didn’t budge an inch, I assumed you needed the beauty sleep.” Your voice had half a tease in it and Emily did her best not to roll her eyes, “figured we’d loop you in once we had something.”

“Which we do.” Spencer cut in, gesturing toward the white board, his laptop open with Penelope on a video call on the spare desk.

“And?” Emily asked.

“Wilson was right about the bracelets.” Garcia began, “we looked through everything and we found one in the exact same colours in the first case with the name Lorelei embroidered into it. The girl’s name was Jessica and the parents don’t know and Lorelei, so y/n made the call to start looking at men who had lost a daughter or sister around the age and description of these girls.”

“The unsub had some kind of contact with every one of these girls before they were abducted.” Spencer explained, “he was using the bracelets to mark them, to make them feel safe, so they’d be easy to spot in a group.”

“Updates?” Emily glanced between the three of you right as the rest of the team finally came into the building, tuning into the conversation and settling into the area.

“I’m waiting on a couple of run throughs but I’ve got three names and addresses for you already.” Penelope replied, clacking away before the swoosh noise echoed through the speakers and everyone’s phone’s pinged, “good luck.” She shot a grin to the camera before it went to black and the rest of you turned to each other.

As it turned out, your hunch was incredibly right, and it didn’t take long before you were able to track down the unsub. He’d watched as his younger sister was stalked, kidnapped, assaulted and killed, his parents wanted nothing to do with him, committing him until he was eighteen and allowed to be free, resulting in more tragedy for everyone else. Considering your find Emily let you take lead in the field and made sure you were comfortable with the take down before letting you have that too. She felt a little twinge of worry sending you in with a mentally unstable unsub, but everyone had your back. Instead she was pleasantly surprised with how well you handled it, you remained calm the entire time, though in her opinion as unit chief you did lower your weapon a little too early, but had she been in your position she would have done the same. It was about earning trust and getting him to let the girl go, let her come to you before he could be arrested to make sure she wasn’t harmed.

The entire unit let out a collective breath of relief when everything was finally done, and thanks to your overnight work, it was barely passed noon. Paperwork was tedious as always, but it managed to be finished shortly before dinner time, the BAU team finally making their way out of the local precinct.

“Well, we’re considering that a win,” Rossi started, clapping Morgan on the back as the group left the office, “should we get dinner, maybe some drinks?”

“You buyin?” Derek asked with a grin and Dave laughed.

“Only if it’s at that bar by the hotel.”

“Honestly, all I need are a good order of chicken wings and mozza sticks.” You laughed and Rossi cheered.

“Wilson agrees!”

“They have deep fried pickles?” JJ asked with a grin and Rossi let out a playful scoff with a nod, accepting that he would foot the bill for dinner and some drinks as everyone laughed, climbing into vehicles.

*

There wasn’t much surrounding the hotel you were staying at, meaning the diner down the road and the bar across the street saw a lot of the team over the last couple of days. It wasn’t anything fancy, not particularly a dive bar, but the vibes were there. Just big enough that patrons weren’t up in each other’s business, mainly regulars spread through the space, a couple of dart boards and a single pool table. The group’s table was covered in appetizers half picked through as everyone wound down from the case with a couple jugs of beer. Everyone was in good spirits, joking and bantering across the table, Derek was currently in a battle with Spencer, attempting to get him into a round of darts where the loser had to pick up the next round. Spencer in turn was trying to turn it around into a game of pool that he had a better chance of winning and Derek was firing back about how there was only one pool table, it could be hours before it freed up and the drinks were looking pretty empty. Spencer fired back with something about the statistics of the game which fired up an entire playful argument until you finally stood up, clapping Spencer on the shoulder,

“Okay, okay, boys simmer down. I’ll get the next round; no more arguing let’s try to keep the team spirit up.” You laughed, grabbing your wallet.

“You really are all about the team spirit, aren’t you?” Emily cut in with a smirk and you shot her a glare.

“Don’t…”

“Aw, c’mon, I’m sure we can find some pom poms somewhere, show off your moves Wilson.”

“You were a cheerleader?” JJ cut in and you let out a huff, rolling your eyes before glaring at Prentiss.

“I told you that in confidence!”

“Yeah, sure.” Emily laughed.

“Ohoho… so you play dirty?” You raised a brow and she grinned your way.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before anyone else at the table even realized what was happening Derek cut in, leaning forward in his seat to get a better eyeline toward you.

“Were you a like, go team, yay sports rah, rah cheerleader, or a it’s its own sport, competitive cheerleader?”

“Competitive.” You said with a huff, quickly stepping away from the table before anyone else could get their questions in and you moved up to the bar.

Much to your disdain, by the time you returned to the table with fresh pitchers of beer the conversation of cheerleading was still going on. At the very least it wasn’t being directed toward you, and more a general conversation topic, but you knew it was only a matter of time before Emily would reroute it back to you and bombard you with questions.

It appeared that whatever higher power was up there tonight was on your side by the time everyone was just over halfway through their third round. Derek, while complimenting the actual competitive cheerleaders, was also lowkey mocking the stereotypical ones who merely pranced around with pom-poms doing silly arm movements and cheers. He went to demonstrate said arm movement and managed to aggressively knock over the beer that he’d just refilled. The glass somehow managed to not break but the entire pint splashed its way directly onto Emily who let out a dramatic gasp, attempting to jump back from the table, swearing in Derek’s direction.

There was no holding back, the table bursting out into laughter, especially as Emily grabbed an onion ring and hurled it in Derek’s direction. Through his laughter he did his best to apologize, swiping a pile of napkins so she could dry off, though the attempt was futile, she was covered in beer.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave.” She sighed, pushing her chair back from the table, “Morgan’s buying the next round on my behalf.”

“Hey! C’mon!” He protested and she simply laughed, waving a quick goodnight to everyone before she left the bar.

Rossi managed to grab a cloth from the bartender and actually get the table cleaned up while Derek got the next round for the group. Things seemed to calm down a little bit after that, you were picking at the plate of deep fried pickles with JJ, answering a few questions here and there about your past cheerleading, thankful the rest of the table had moved on with different conversations. The pool table finally freed up, Spencer and Derek disappearing in that direction and the three of you left at the table decided to call it a night, knowing it would likely be an early flight home the next morning.

You swung the door to your hotel room open, unsurprised to hear the shower running after Emily’s beer mishap. You flicked on the tv for some noise, mainly to alert Emily that you’d returned, you didn’t want to scare her when she came out of the shower. Wandering around the hotel room you made sure you’d collected everything previously scattered around the space, packing up your go bag and plugging in your iPad and phone. You took a couple of minutes scrolling through your phone, clearing notifications before making sure your alarm was set for the next morning. Standing from the bed you began stripping out of your clothes, folding them up into your bag before you found yourself distracted with the tv, zoning out from reality while your attention was focussed there.

“You always wear such lacy shit under your work clothes?” Emily’s voice broke through your trance and you jumped, turning to her.

“Jesus.” You swore, unsure whether it was because of her scaring you or the fact that she was wrapped in an almost too small hotel towel, water droplets still clinging to her skin, her hair pulled up off her neck to stay out of the shower stream. She bit her lip between her teeth, trying to make sure her eyes weren’t lingering on your body for too long and in the minute of distraction you managed to find your words, taunting her with the same phrase she’d teased you with at the bar. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Emily chuckled, a smirk taking over her cheeks as she stepped up to you, “it is rather fun to use my imagination.” Her hand raised, fingers ghosting over your jawline, “though as pretty as that lace is, I’d prefer it off.”

“But…” You breathed out, the proximity to her, the fact that you were both only seconds away from being naked, the alcohol surging through your veins, everything was fighting against the ethical thoughts in your brain.

“What’s the harm in one more night?” Emily asked, her voice dropping, fully as affected as you were in that moment, though she dropped her hand, wondering if she should take a step back.

“We shouldn’t…?” You managed to actually string the words together, even if there was a question at the end, because you knew that rules didn’t fucking matter to you, especially right now.

“If you don’t want to then we can forget this, I’ll get dressed.” She was about to actually step back when the words slipped from between your lips and she the spark surge through her body.

“Like hell I’m letting you put clothes on right now.”

She chuckled darkly, closing the space between the two of you, her lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss, one that both of you moaned in to. Neither of you could help it, it had been too long, too many days of yearning to feel the other’s body against yours, too many nights of pretending it was them touching you instead of your own hands or toys. Emily’s hands wound around you, easily undoing your bra and you let it fall to the floor, a second later and they were groping at your chest, pinching at your nipples and you let out a whine into the kiss.

Emily took advantage of that, slipping her tongue into your mouth, groaning over the taste of you, one she had been craving for weeks. Your tongues danced with grace against each other and it wasn’t long before your fingers slipped into Emily’s towel and it fell to the floor. She practically shivered, exposed to the cool hotel room air and in retaliation nipped at your lip, pulling a gasp from you that broke the kiss.

“You still going to be daddy’s good girl?” She husked, her lips kissing right below your ear and it was your turn to shiver.

“Yes…” you felt your body pulse at the way she kissed down the column of your neck, knowing you were going to lose all your coherent thoughts in a mere matter of minutes. Instead your hands ghosted up her sides, toying with her chest, squeezing her, feeling the vibration of her moan against your skin as she continued to kiss your neck. One of your hands slid down her body, slipping between her legs and Emily sucked in a heavy breath, her eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your fingers sliding through her folds, “I want to taste you.”

Emily felt herself flutter at your words, a small chuckle escaping her lips before she bit into your neck, her hands resting on your hips, tugging you to her as she backed herself up towards one of the beds. Your lips met once again, moving with grace as you fell back onto the bed, shifting slightly so you were both comfortable as your hands roamed each other’s bodies. Emily wasn’t about to protest as you began to crawl down her body, leaving little kisses and nips on her skin as you went, her legs practically falling open the instant you were between them. She’d been aching for your touch for as long as she could remember, each time your fingers brushed hers, every moment that you’d poked her to get her attention she’d wished the feeling would last a little longer, that your hands would find their way to where she really wanted to be touched. Your hands grazed up her thighs, a hand sliding onto her pussy and your fingers spread her open, a small swear leaving your lips.

“Fuck…”

She was already glistening in the low light of the hotel room and you weren’t about to waste a minute before your mouth surged toward her, wrapping around her lower lips and you sucked her into your mouth briefly. Emily let out a light gasp, one of her hands shooting down to tangle into your hair and you couldn’t help the grin, knowing you were on the right path. Your tongue lapped out, swiping through her, flicking at her clit and she shuddered before you returned to her cunt, tongue dipping in as far as you could. She tasted like absolute heaven, better than you ever could have imagined and you knew that you’d never be able to get enough, burying your face in between her legs.

“Oh fuck…” she whined, “just like that angel…”

You groaned into her, the vibration sending shivers down her spine, her thighs twitching around you as you continued your movements. Your tongue pulled out as much of her wetness as it could, smearing it around her pussy, nose nudging against her clit and she gasped. You shifted your mouth up, lips wrapping around her clit as you sucked it into your mouth, tongue dancing patterns across it and her hips rocked up suddenly, a moan leaving her as her fingers tightened in your hair.

“So good.” She praised, her eyes fluttering shut as her head dropped into the pillows, heat coursing through her body.

Your mouth dropped down again, eager for another proper taste of her, sucking her juices from her while her hips rocked against your mouth. She let out a quiet cry, her legs threatening to squeeze tight around you and you let out a small chuckle, knowing the vibrations from it were enough to make her gasp once more. You shifted back up to her clit, a heavy broad lick across it before you wrapped your lips around it again. Emily let out a whimper and you felt yourself pulse around nothing at the sound, the desire to make her come growing larger with each second that passed. Your hand snuck up, toying with her dripping cunt before slipping two fingers in and she moaned.

“Fuck, yes baby… oh fuck!”

Even with just one pump of your fingers you could already feel her pulsing around you, pussy wet and warm around your digits. You thrusted them in time with the way your tongue was lapping over her clit before they curled within her, searching for that sensitive spot. It took a couple of tries but when she cried out, her hips jolted up off the bed and you knew you’d found it, not letting up as you continued to fuck her. Your fingertips brushed against the spot with each curl of your fingers, your mouth increasing suction around her swollen clit with each thrust of your hand you could feel her pussy pulsating around you, little whimpers leaving her lips as her body began to shudder.

“Oh fuck! Fuck!” The cry escaped her right as her hips thrust up, her fingers clenching in your hair, holding your face into her cunt and her body shook, juices dribbling their way down your wrist. Emily panted, thankful that you pressed a gentle kiss to her clit before your mouth left her body, your fingers gently fucking her through her orgasm.

You barely had enough time to crawl up her body before she was praising how good you were and flipping you on your back to return the favour. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that she was as talented with her mouth as she was but you still found yourself gasping for air, your entire body tingling at the way her tongue lapped through you, teasing at your clit with each lick. Her hands pinned your hips down to the bed, giving you only a little leeway to rut up against her, begging for more contact. Your breath picked up, your chest practically heaving when her fingers slid into you and her mouth wrapped around your clit.

“Oh god!” You cried out, “fuck, fuck.. feels.. so, fucking good!” A hand found its way into her hair, tugging at the roots as she continued to eat you and you couldn’t do much more than whimper. Her fingers pumped inside you, your pussy clenching down around them harder with each thrust of her hand, electricity shooting through you as the coil got tighter and tighter. It didn’t take much longer, a hard thrust from her hand as her tongue flicked against you and you were coming, body trembling, juices leaking out onto the bedspread as Emily chuckled against your skin.

You were smarter than to think that the two of you were done after only that, Emily crawling back up over your body, lips meeting yours in a lazy kiss while you caught your breath. Her lips trailed down your neck, teeth nibbling at your collarbone before she sucked a nipple into her mouth and your breath hitched in your throat, your nails scratching into her skin. Your hands began to trail across her body before one of them found its way between her legs again.

Neither of you were sure how many rounds you had gone, or how much time had passed since you first stepped into the hotel room and neither of you cared in the least. Emily currently had you on your back, fingers deep in your drenched pussy, squelching sounds echoing through the room as she straddled your thigh, grinding down onto it, smearing her juices along your skin.

“You’ve got one more in you angel, I know you do.” She cooed, her fingers crooking inside you and you groaned, your body jolting toward the touch, your thigh clenching just right that you pulled a gasp from her as her hips rutted against your body. The pleasure was prickling just beneath the surface of your skin, causing a shimmer of sweat to be contributed to the stickiness in the room.

“Fuck… fuck…” you cried, “more! Please daddy!”

Emily shifted forward, two of her fingers slipping into your mouth and you happily accepted them, tongue swirling around them, sucking them deeper between your lips. You figured it was an attempt to keep you quiet, but you didn’t care either way.

“God, look at you.” She murmured, a dark chuckle leaving her, “next time I’ll have to pack the strap, I just know those pretty lips would look so fuckin gorgeous wrapped around my cock.”

You released her fingers with a gasp, moaning into the room as the fingers in your cunt picked up their speed, matching the rhythm that Emily was riding your thigh. She shifted her weight back onto it, letting out a low moan before she spat onto your pussy, the spit slicked fingers that had been in your mouth moving to your clit, rubbing furiously. Your hands quickly found her hips, guiding them in the same pace that she was fucking you, urging her to grind down harder on you as a string of whines left your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it baby?” She gasped, her fingers nearly stilling as they pressed up hard against your g-spot and your body began to tremble, “you gonna come for me? Come for daddy, angel…”

Her breath was ragged, nearly as ragged as yours as you felt the heat burst deep within you, letting out a moan as shook underneath her. She let out a dark chuckle, hand shifting from your clit to brace against your hip, picking up the pace she was riding your thigh. You grabbed at her wrist, pulling her fingers from you with a whimper while you caught your breath, tugging her upwards.

“Get up here.” You muttered, “want you to come on my face.”

Emily laughed, crawling up you as you readjusted quickly before she settled over your face and lowered her dripping pussy to your lips. You eagerly lapped your tongue out, groaning over her taste, one you knew you would never grow tired of; you wanted as much of her as possible tonight, no clue if you’d get another chance or not. She braced herself on the headboard, beginning to ride your face, moaning when your nose brushed against her clit. You shifted your lips upward, wrapping around it, you could tell she was close by how heavy she was grinding down on you, the fact that each roll of her hips was accompanied by a louder moan. Suddenly she grabbed at your hand, pulling your fingers into her mouth, muffled moans vibrating around them before she slipped off them,

“Touch yourself,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, “wanna come together.”

You did exactly as she asked, your hand rubbing at your clit as you increased the strength you sucked at hers, moaning into her cunt, feeling the way her juices were smearing over your chin. Her clit was throbbing between your lips, aching each time your tongue flicked over it and in some miracle she cried out at in the same moment you groaned into her pussy, reaching your peaks at the same time. Her thighs trembled on either side of your face, her fingers gripping the headboard tightly as she tried not to drop all her weight down onto you. Panting, she collapsed down onto the bed beside you, her hand tickling at your bare skin while you both caught your breath.

*

The alarm blared through the room what felt like only a moment after you’d closed your eyes and you grumbled, reaching a hand out to silence it, knowing you had multiple set.

“Please tell me there’s enough time for coffee and breakfast.” Emily groaned and you chuckled, rolling onto your back you grimaced slightly. As you woke up fully you could feel just how sticky your body was,

“More than that.” You replied, “god knows I need a shower.”

You pushed up to sitting, swinging your feet off the bed and the sheet slipped off you, goosebumps breaking out on your skin in the cool morning air. Behind you Emily’s eyes were dragging up your body and when you glanced over your shoulder you caught her smirk.

“What?” You laughed.

“Care if I join you?” She raised a brow and your eyes widened every so slightly.

“Oh.. I thought last night might’ve been alcohol fueled…”

“Certainly didn’t hurt. Still would’ve done it stone cold sober.”

“Well then… I guess you’re more than welcome.” You giggled.

“What happens it Vegas stays in Vegas.” She shrugged, slipping from the bed and you laughed.

“We’re in Atlanta…”

“Saying still applies.” Emily smirked, spanking you before nudging you toward the bathroom.

*

The jet soared through the air, a relaxed vibe shifting through it, Rossi and Spencer were on the left side, half involved in the conversation, half reading their own things. You somehow had ended up beside Emily, across from Derek who was beside a currently empty seat. JJ returned with yet another coffee refill, dropping down into the spare seat with a groan,

“Did anyone else have a terrible sleep last night or was it just me? I feel like I woke up every twenty minutes.”

“Might’ve been the couple up fucking all night that woke you up.” Derek muttered, grin on his cheeks, his voice shifting into a mocking tone, “oh, harder daddy, please!” He laughed, “some people into some kinky shit.”

“Oh please.” Emily laughed beside you, managing to cover up the way her body had stiffened at his words, “as if you aren’t into some kinky shit.”

“Baby girl you wouldn’t even believe what I’m into.” He grinned across at her and she rolled her eyes before he nudged at your foot with his, “what about you, you sleep okay?”

“Like a baby.” You cast him a friendly smile and prayed your years with the FBI was enough to handle covering up a lie.

“Yeah? Prentiss didn’t keep you up all night?”

“What?” You did your best not to stutter and Emily tensed again beside you while Derek let out a loud laugh again.

“I’ve bunked with her before, she snores like a sailor!”

“Oh I do not!” She let out an offended scoff, swatting at him with the book she was holding.

A playful scuffle broke out before Dave called for the ‘kids’ to calm down and things finally did. It wasn’t much longer before the jet landed back at Quantico and you all went about your separate ways, taking the rest of the day off to recoup from the trip. It was only when you got to your car you realized your keys were still in your desk drawer. Letting out a heavy sigh you turned around, trudging back through the building. The BAU floor was practically deserted, but right as you reached your desk you heard an office door close in the direction of Emily’s.

“You forget something?” She asked, shouldering her back as she wandered through the bull pen.

“Keys.” You held up the ring, sliding the drawer they were in shut, slightly surprised when she approached you. From the moment you’d landed, there was something different about her, the way she slipped back into this Quantico role, the one where she was the boss, where this was work and that was it. Something slightly different about the way she held herself. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.” You shot her a smile and turned to head for the door when she called out.

“Y/n!”

“Yeah?” You turned back to her, your head tilting at the frown on her face and you raised a brow.

“It can’t happen again.” Her head shook, “if any of them find out—”

“I.. have no clue what you’re talking about.” You replied and it was her turn to look confused.

“What…?” She fumbled and you simply shrugged,

“What happens in Vegas...”

_______________

@ssa-sapphic @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @cabotfan42 @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @softgamerking @httpjupiterbby @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry  @mysticfalls01 @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @aliensaurusrex @alcabots @7thavenger @ladysc @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @disneyfan624 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @gamma-ray-bursts @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @bookpillows @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx  @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess  @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @bluetodie @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy

[jynxeddraca]

Avatar, The Way of Water

My Uncle and his fiance wanted to go watch it so I got to see it in IMAX 3D.  I didn’t actually like the first one, this one was pretty good.  However, there are a couple parts I want to fuss about so major spoilers under the cut.

Okay, first of fucking all, wasn’t Grace buried at the end of the first movie?  How the ever loving fuck would they have known she was pregnant?  She was buried and in the ground.  I swear she was buried.  And even if they didn’t show her being buried like I apparently thought they did, why wouldn’t they bury her?????  She was fucking dead. 

Also, when they do the flash back of the past decade or so, the order that they show things happening in is Neytiri being pregnant with her firstborn, then them introducing that baby to the clan, and then it’s like “Oh yeah, by the way, Grace’s Avatar body is in incubation and somehow she’s pregnant”.  It’s weird and while I’m convinced it’s an immaculate conception via the consciousness transfer through Eywa, the timing is really weird.

Now don’t get me wrong, I like Kitty’s character.  I thought she was interesting.  But the fact still remains that I really thought they had buried Grace and it doesn’t make any sense whatsoever that apparently not only that they didn’t, but they instead decided to incubate her avatar corpse??? For reasons????

The other thing that really bothers me about that whole plot point is that they have two of Kitty’s “brothers” (neither are related to her) poking fun and cracking jokes about who her dad is and it gives me major ick because it’s like they’re casually insinuating that something happened between Grace’s avatar body and one of the scientists.  And it made me really uncomfortable.

Just, what the actual fuck man?

Additionally, I have a whole issue with the whole reason the family went to live at the reef clan in general.  The Bad Guy™ is back (I’m not mad at the way the he’s back. That was standard sci-fi techno reincarnation) and wants revenge on Jake Sully now chief of his clan. 

Okay, so far with you. 

Jake’s clan start doing raids on the Sky People military shit and his older sons are with him.  Still with you. 

Then they realize the Bad Guy™ is back and has no problems kidnapping and hurting kids, and so he takes his family away to “protect” the whole clan, even though the whole clan has been doing raids and is actively putting themselves in danger to get the Sky People to go away.  The whole clan also is very aware that the Bad Guy™ has a special hatred for Jake and his family but knows how to deal with both avatars and the military.  So of course the logical thing for Jake to do is fake his death, take his family, and leave everything his family has ever known to disappear and not be involved with the war efforts anymore.

Oh, and move to a clan of nearly fully aquatic (and kinda pacifist) Na’vi and makes his wife and kids learn how to be like them, which nearly gets them drowned several times in the movie.

I kinda get his reasoning.  Bad guy is hunting him.  Bad guy will hurt his kids.  Bad guy has no moral compass and will hurt others to get to him. 

SO HE FAKES HIS DEATH AND GOES TO FUCKING PACIFISTS?!?!  TO HIDE??? 

Like, that is the dumbest thing.  He is actively being hunted, his two oldest sons have already been involved with the war raids, he’s leaving his clan at a disadvantage, he knows this isn’t going to totally fool the Bad Guy™, and he is totally fucking aware that the people who he joins aren’t involved and that his presence might get people killed.  Shock and awe, that’s exactly what fucking happens. 

And I realize the Metkayina clan are not total pacifists but they don’t want anything to do with what’s happening with the Sky People.  And Jake directly puts clans that aren’t even aware of who he is or where he is in serious danger.  And they like, acknowledge this in the movie.  They’re aware of what their presence means.  Him and Neytiri have a whole fight about it.  

It’s the most major of plot points in the movie, and it only kinda makes sense on the surface.  Because he was okay with his kids involved in the fighting, until Bad Guy™ shows up, and then suddenly “we must protect the childrens” and they need to disappear into the ocean.  And there’s 4 more movies planned in this series.

[2lim3rz]

6, 14, 28 for the oc asks (i hope i got the numbers right)

6 - Two OCs of yours that look alike despite not being related?

That's easy. My Ultrakill ocs Ondoel and Aldoel, despite literally also having similar names, are unrelated.

They still call themselves twins and brothers for the shits and giggles though

14 - Introduce an OC with a tragic backstory

So, uh, that's like.. at least over half of them? But I can introduce a couple that I have constant brain rot for. Sibley - Warhammer 40k - A Warhammer 40k blank (aka person with mega fuck you energy that makes hell creatures just Not Exist). Constantly nearly killed/otherwise beaten her entire life because of aforementioned Anti-Good Vibes Vibes before a whole Primarch fell in love with her (somehow). She then got kidnapped and disappeared for a Long Long Time Elsewhere - Fallout: New Vegas - Mauled by NCR attack dogs as a child, lived life constantly on and off drugs before she settled and helped the Courier. Who then turned out to be a Legion double agent before he was killed. She was then married off to Legate Lanius Tadpole - A orphaned tiefling who was adopted into a tiefling worshiping cult who then got seperated by her husband, lost her memory when a Mindflayer failed to put a tadpole in the correct side of her deformed head, and then got threatened to be killed multiple times and is now not having a Good Time

28 - Your most dangerous OC?

Ooooh that's.. that's a good one. I'll break it down by universe? Lol Val'tha-Oll - Aliens vs Predator - Highly adaptable and has a fierce human wifey. He's an Elite at that so he's an absolute short unit Amara aka Saint Fang's Scream - Dungeons and Dragons - An Amethyst Gem Dragonborn echo knight that was a ferocious gladiator before she was killed off. Honestly just a hilarious nightmare of a person Opalclash - Transformers - A predacon with the ability to manipulate energon. Isn't afraid to kill. Is a predacon so she's hard to kill. We love and support her Hazardous Waste - Transformers - Obligatory honorable mention to my deranged bastard <3 Metatron - Ultrakill - LITERALLY HAS BEEN BLESSED WITH MINOR OMNIPRESENCE BY G OD. Also the 'leader' of the archangels before he got imprisoned. Beloved man. Love him. Beloved. Anette - Warhammer 40k - A distant relative of Malcador the Sigilite because uhm why not? A psyker with the main skill of manipulating the fabric of the universe to be lucky and has psychic visions of the past. Has a Marines Malevolent (Alpha Legion) boyfriend and a weird thing going on with the rest of the squad but SHHHHHHH Has learned to kill and will do it in the name of the Emperor Percival Carrington - REPO! A Genetic Opera - Bastard man. Too rich to die

Shemru/Shemzu - You know him, Mist, but to explain to everyone else: Big Bastard. Literally, we love him even though he's a villain.

This bitch. Jino - Personal universe of bird-lizard aliens. Has the magic ability of 'taking' wounds from people and putting them on himself or transferring the wounds to someone else. Litterally uses this ability to harm others instead of healing people which, valid

[spittenvibes]

Big Surprise in a Small Package || Young Constellations P.3

Word count: 1,621

A/N: I worte this when I was 14 and haven't touched it since so there is alot that I would write differently now. Regardless hope the 3rd chapter of this story is interesting!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As soon as the group had gotten off Mars everything somehow became still, the sort of still that makes you want to whisper when there is no reason to, which only put Mira on edge, as she had found that, although in space, the law, “If something can go wrong it will.” still holds every bit as true. The only thing left that could go wrong would be with Quib, so she went to go check on him.

Quib was sitting at a small round metal table by the back of the control room, mindlessly polishing a jar with a small smile on his face. Mira couldn't decide if this was good or bad for him. Mira had not really even meant to bring him with her. But at least her degree in psychology might finally be of some use. Now, don't misinterpret this, a degree in psychology is nothing to laugh at, no, the main thing was that being a fugitive in space doesn't attract very many patients. And in normal circumstances, you shouldn't have any relation to the patient, but this wasn't a normal situation, or at least she hoped it wasn't. so she had to improvise.

“So, how are you?” Mira asked, trying a little too hard to sound friendly.

This got Quib to stop polishing the jar, and sarcastically replied, “Oh you know, I'm doing just fine. I woke up, took a stroll down the city, helped a seemingly innocent stranger find her way, got chased by assassins trying to kill said stranger, and ended up getting kidnapped by her as an attempt to save me. But enough about me, how are you?"

“Right,” Mira was a little rusty and the odd situation did not help her any either “sorry about that.”

“Hmf,” was the only thing Quib said back, before continuing to polish the jar, now slightly more vigorously.

So Mira decided to go a different route and ask about the jar Quib kept going back to, because it could be important for his mental health, and definitely not because Mira was super curious about it.“ So... what's in that jar?”

“ I don't know” Quib said, already annoyed.

“What do you mean you don't know?” Mira asked, persistent.

Quib was almost offended by the idea that he was lying. “I mean, I don't know, it's, just a thing that I picked up,”

Mira leaned in a little to try to get a look at what was inside, the jar in question was full of something that glimmered slightly under the harsh lighting as pinks, purples and blues flowed throughout, but no matter its beauty. A sealed jar full of who knows what, is no longer just comfort, it could be dangerous.“Alright, just, don't open it”

Mira was worn out and needed time to think. whatever is in the jar didn't seem like something that needed to be dealt with at that minute. Mira walked over to the controls at the front of the ship and pressed a couple of buttons putting the ship in level one lockdown, that way Quib wouldn't be able to start driving, and so Mira could keep an eye on what he was doing.“I'll be down in my study, if you need anything ask the ship first”

And with that, Mira headed down the stairs and off to her study to lay down for a bit.

Mira had not only piqued Quibs interest in the jar, he was feeling quite spiteful. The jar had never seemed odd to Quib. there were lots of little knick knacks around when he was in the OST and this had just been another one, but now it could be a tool, or at least take his mind off things for the time being. At first he decided to just watch it, and when it didn't do anything Quib opened the jar, still nothing. he had nothing better to do so he put their finger in it. the goop was almost the same temperature as the air around it, and Quib could feel it swirling around him finger. Quib pulled him finger out of the goop. there was no residue left over. he looked at the jar again and nearly jumped at the sight of a pinky purpley eye staring up at them. the goop started swirling with color. In a panic, Quib closed the jar as fast as he could.

“Umm, ship?” Quib said through heavy breathing, his heart almost in his throat. Nothing happened.

“Uhh ship… hello”

At the front of the ship a holophone flashed on, showing a concerned Mira.“What's up Quib?” Mira asked, in a calm, nonchalant tone, even though she was fearing the worst.

Quib couldn't think of anything to say.“Ummmmm” he said, stalling for an explanation.

Mira had no idea what was happening, but she knew Quib wasn’t going to tell her. she wasn't going to take any chances.“I'm coming up, ok?”

The jar was swirling with all sorts of colors, and Quib was just standing there, as if saying, “What? I didn't do anything.”

“You opened it didn't you,”

Quib really didn't like being accused, whether or not it was justified.“It hasn't done anything, well, other than this that is” Quib gestured towards the now slightly calmer jar.

Mira couldn't understand how her passenger was so calm holding a jar full of whatever that is, it didn't matter, if that thing exploded the only place on the ship that would be safe would be the containment cell.

“Give it to me”

“Why?” Quib still wanted to know what this was and wasn't going to let this stranger ruin his chance at knowing.

“I'm not going to do anything but put it in the containment cell, you can even go in there with it if you want” it was the best thing Mira could do, she couldn't land, it was still too soon after the whole Mars ordeal.

Quib gave in, “Fine.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mira input the code to open the metal cell door. Quib went in and put the jar on the floor before opening it again, then the two went to the main room to view it. It didn't take long for the eye to appear again. Mira watched in awe as the thing looked around the small metal room. It glanced around one more time before knocking the jar over, sliding out, and taking the shape of… a person? Mira and Quib, were now both standing just inches from the one-way glass of the cell, amazed by what they were seeing. It had a human shape, standing about 4 feet tall, with baby pink skin and even lighter hair, its eyes were the colors of the galaxy, and it was, blushing? Blues and purples flowed across its face as it slid down the wall to sit on the ground.

Mira was the first to say anything.“What, is it?”

Quib replied in awe, but still with their usual snippy attitude

“Once again, I don't know”

Quib had seen a lot of different sentient beings, but nothing like this. Even the lab raids never had this kind of thing.

Mira snapped out of her intrigue, realizing that this was a living thing with thoughts, feelings, and presumably needs.“How long has it been in that jar, Quib?”

“How am I supposed to know, I didn't put it in there.” Quib wasn't even really supposed to have it.

“Then what do we do?” Mira said, trying to stay calm and collected, but obviously flustered.

In the OST it was the psychologists that dealt with this sort of stuff, all Quib did was go out on missions.“No idea, i'm not a phycologist”

Mira knew what right thing to do was.“Fine, but you’re coming with me”

Mira grabbed Quib by the arm and dragged him to the door before he had a chance to answer, that way, Mira wouldn't have time to change her mind. As soon as Mira opened the door to the cell the thing moved to be as far away as possible, it turned an almost gray color, with Pinks, purples, and blues spreading across its face, its form trembling.

“We are not going to hurt you.” Mira said as she took a careful step forward.

“No more experiments?” it questioned in a very soft voice.

Mira could hear fear in its voice but that may be due more to the difficulty it was having keeping its form together. “What is it talking about?” Mira asked Quib with genuine concern.

Quib was annoyed by how much Mira thought he knew, he knew just as much as Mira did.“I don't know”

“Quib, are you sure you don't have any idea what it could be talking about?” Mira pleaded.

Quib realized how desperate Mira was and thought for a minute before saying “well, it could be from a lab raid I guess, but nothing came from jars as far as I know, that's all I can think of”

“What raids? What are you talking about?” Mira questioned

Quib didn't know if he wanted to tell Mira about them. the lab raids had been some of the biggest ones in the OSTs history, and the most recent, there had been smaller ones since then but nothing super noteworthy came out of those. “Before I joined the OST, there had been a huge lab raid, the most experiments ever saved at one time, but like I said there wasn't anything like this”

There was nothing else to do, mira didn't have enough information and wasn't going to put her ship in danger.

“Im going to do some research on this”

[baroquebucky]

in which bucky is protective over his favorite girl

warnings: violence

masterlist

a/n: hi guys !! i hope you gets enjoy this one shot it’s just angst and fluff <3 (written at 3 am plz forgive any typos) ,, send in some requests !!

Bucky was protective of all the things he loved and cared about.

Growing up he was protective of Steve, beating up anyone who bullied the skinny boy, kicking people out of alleys and checking up on his friend.

Then he was protective of his own memories and thoughts, scared of losing them once more and being turned into someone he wasn’t.

He was protective of Sam after he got over his initial annoyance, sending death glares and making snappy comments to anyone who down talked his partner.

Then he met you. You who were sweet and caring, who loved him for who he was and who was the most amazing person he’d ever known. Bucky was very protective of you.

He knew what and who was out there in the world, he knew the lengths people would go to if they ever wanted to hurt him, of course he was protective of you.

Bucky was staying at the compound for a couple nights working on a case with Sam, researching some organization popping up similar to HYDRA. Buckys stomach was in knots, they knew about him, about the winter soldier, could they know about you? what if they tried to hurt you?

He quickly pushed the feelings away, you would be okay, you always were right?

He couldn’t sleep, he had a bad feeling, he needed to be with you. It was nearly 2 am, he didn’t want to bother you.

hi doll can i come over ? cant sleep at the compound :/

You replied quickly, missing your boyfriend despite seeing him only a couple days ago.

of course lover boy

Bucky quickly grabbed some clothes, changing and packing a bag with extra clothes, throwing in a pistol and some knives just in case.

when Bucky arrived he quickly unlocked your door with the key you had given him, locking the door once he had let himself in and headed to your room, seeing you sat up, waiting for him, your eyes bleary.

“sorry for keeping you up doll” he whispered, setting his bag down next to the bed, slipping his shirt and sweats off, slipping under the covers with you, pulling you to his chest softly.

“it’s okay, couldn’t sleep that well anyway, keep hearing noises” you mumbled, body relaxing as you the cold feeling of Buckys metal arm draped around your waist.

“I’m here doll don’t worry” he mumbled, kissing your forehead, focusing on his surroundings, making sure you were safe.

You fell asleep quickly in his arms, breathing steady. Bucky listened to your heartbeat, eyes closing slowly and he let himself fall asleep, holding you a little tighter as he slept.

It was 4:27 am when he heart the jangle of the door being unlocked. Bucky had never shot up faster, slipping out of bed and quickly putting the clothes he had taken off earlier.

“y/n, doll get up now” he spoke quickly, shaking you gently until you woke up.

“hm? what happened?” You slurred, eyes still closed.

“someone’s trying to get in” he spoke softly and your eyes widened, heart racing as you moved quickly, waking up quickly.

“should i hide? what do i do? what if they hurt me? if they kidnap me? am i gonna-” your spoke quickly, panicking.

“doll i would never let anything happen to you. Stay behind me” bucky spoke sternly, his pistol in one hand, handing you a knife.

“Hold this” he spoke, one arm extended behind him, making sure you were safe behind him, the other holding the pistol as the door opened, five men walking into your apartment, armed.

He turned to you, motioning you to stay quiet and to hide in the corner, you quickly followed his directions, holding the knife tightly as you saw Bucky put away his pistol, walking to the living room.

“Breaking and entering is a crime you know” he remarked, the five men turning to look at him, three of them aiming their weapons at him.

“You’re coming with us” one of them spoke and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“No actually I’m not” he snickered, grabbing one mans gun and breaking his nose with the butt, throwing him into two of the other men.

The other two scrambled to shoot at him, he raised his metal arm, blocking the shots and knocking them out with a swift punch, kicking one of them in the chest as they approached him with a pocket knife.

You peeked around the corner, seeing Bucky taking on the five men, fighting them off but struggling at they bombarded him.

You panicked, hiding in the corner again, heart racing as you tried to figure out what to do.

You grabbed the vase to your right, moving quickly and throwing it, causing it to shatter.

The men turned around, Bucky grabbed one of their knives, slicing the back of his thigh, causing the man to fall, shouting in pain.

He kicked one man in the back, sending him out into the hallway, hitting his head on the wall which knocked him out.

There were three men now, two of them constantly ambushing Bucky, letting the third one go to where you threw the vase, your heart rate spiked as you heard the footsteps grow louder, your grip on the knife was tighter, hiding it behind your back.

The man entered the room, his eyes settling in you immediately. He smirked at he approached you, going to grab your arm you shrieked and sliced his arm, running away from the man, but he was quick.

He grabbed the back of your shirt, pulling you to him, causing you to hit his chest with a ‘hmph’

You raised the knife to stab him but he was much stronger, easily grabbing your wrist, squeezing you hand causing you to drop the knife, the pressure making you wince.

“Dont fucking touch her!” Bucky growled, something in him snapping as he the man held your wrist tightly, elbowing you in the face as you tried to get free.

His metal arm whirred, and just like that he punched the man on his right, the vibranium causing his nose to break, he fell to the floor quickly. Bucky ducked, avoiding the second mans punch, grabbing a knife from the floor, flipping it and throwing it into the mans abdomen, making him stumble over in pain.

He made quick strides, eyes dark and jaw clenched, his breathing was ragged and he grabbed his forearm with his metal arm, throwing him against the wall easily.

You stumbled out of his grasp and ran to the other side of the room, breathing heavy and hands shaking, eyes wide as Bucky moved his metal hand to the mans throat, holding him up as he chocked him.

“Don’t ever get near her again” he threatened, voice low and raspy. He let go of the man, coughing as gasping for air, Bucky held him to the wall, pinning his throat once again with the forearm of his metal arm.

“Doll go call Sam and tell him to get here now” he spoke, turning to look at you and you nodded quickly, fumbling for your phone and calling Sam.

“you’ve gone soft soldat” the man spoke and Bucky put more pressure on the mans throat, cutting off his hair supply,

“You touched my girl, the only reason you haven’t joined your buddies as a corpse is because we need information” he growled, releasing some pressure to let the man breathe again.

Sam arrived quickly, getting the man for interrogation and bringing some more backup to help with the scene.

“I talked with stark, he said to head back to the compound with y/n, they’re gonna figure it out for tonight” Sam whispered to bucky.

“take care of her she looks shaken up” Sam frowned. You were sat outside on the bench outside your apartment complex, hot tears streaming down your face as you pictured the events. You could’ve died.

You almost had to kill someone.

Bucky killed someone. He killed five people like it was light work.

You remembered the dark look in the mans eyes, like he was planning to hurt you.

“doll?” Bucky spoke and you jumped, flinching at his words. You relaxed as soon as you saw your boyfriend, shrinking back into yourself.

“lets go to the compound okay?” he whispered and you nodded, moving quickly and looking over your shoulder.

You grabbed his hand, holding it tightly the whole ride back, sticking to him closely, not wanting to be alone. The sun was rising already you were beyond exhausted.

“go shower I’ll wait for you here okay? If you need anything just call my name okay doll?” Bucky spoke softly, kissing your forehead. You nodded as he handed your some of his clothes you could change into.

You showered quickly, wanting to be back in Buckys arms where you knew you were safe.

As you finished changing bucky, handed you a plate of food, telling you to eat something while he showered, you nodded with a smile, not trusting your voice.

He tried showering quickly, knowing how scared you must be. You were putting on a brave face, for him. His heart broke, upset you had to see all that. He was furious at the fact that they, whoever the fuck they were put you in danger. He would make sure they all paid for it.

Bucky changed quickly, heading out only to find you wiping your tears quickly, attempting to quiet your sniffles, your food was untouched.

“baby?” He approached you quietly and you turned away from him.

“m sorry i tried to be strong” you spoke shakily, Bucky frowned, pulling you into his chest as you cried.

“let it out sweetheart it’s okay” he whispered, rubbing your back as you choked out quiet sobs.

“i- he was gonna kill me” you spoke between sobs, holding onto your boyfriend tightly, “i thought i could be strong for you but i couldn’t” you cried and he held your tightly.

He was quiet until your cries died down, only soft sniffles. He handed your some tissues and you thanked him, blowing your nose.

Bucky picked you up, carrying you to bed and holding you closely.

“You don’t have to be strong for me sweets, I’m here for you. I’m going to be here all the time and I’m not leaving anytime soon.” He reassured you, your head resting on his chest.

“you protected me” you mumbled, eyes heavy from exhaustion.

“I’ll always protect you” he replied, pulling you closer to him. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you” he stated, your heart thumped in your ears, relaxing a little more at his words.

“I love you” you whispered, looking at him and he smiled, kissing your forehead.

“I love you too doll face” he smiled, kissing your cheek before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“can’t believe you actually took on five guys” you yawned, Bucky furrowed his brows.

“what?” He asked, confused.

“i don’t know, thought you were gonna lose” you mumbled, playing with his fingers.

“doll, you realize I’m a trained assassin? A super soldier? I have a whole metal arm” he stated, almost offended that you thought he would lose.

“Well yeah, but you also cry watching the fox and the hound and are the softest person i know” you replied, furrowing your brows. “I’ve never seen you fight so i wouldn’t know” you shrugged your shoulders.

“i wanted to keep you out of that part of my life, didn’t want you to think any different of me” he shifted, stomach twisting as your stayed quiet.

“i dont” you replied after a few moments, bucky let out a shaky breath. “but” you began, his stomach fell.

“it was kinda hot now that i think about it” you smirked and Buckys mouth fell open.

“wh- y/n!” He smiled at you in surprise and you giggled, looking at him with a small smile.

“i have to find one positive in this okay!” You pouted and he let out a soft chuckle.

“i think you should get the rest sweets” he smiled and you nodded, both of you shifting to get more comfortable, the birds singing outside but you both ignored it.

“y know you could always choke me with the metal arm if you want” you teased and Buckys face flushed red, heart racing.

“y/n!” he scolded you as you smirked, loving to see him flustered.

“gnight lover boy” you giggled and rolled his eyes, kissing the top of your head.

“goodnight doll” he replied, holding you close, protecting you from the world. Nothing was gonna hurt you as long as Bucky was with you.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Bad Batch) Hunter x Reader: Off the Grid - Part 4

(Author’s Note:  I’d like to credit @kamino-mermaid for information and tips on surviving off-the-grid!!!!

Hunter lives a secluded cabin life in the wilderness.  Sometimes he catches the rest of the Batch on the radio waves or visits every now and then.  He likes his life, but sometimes he can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have a family.

But the harsh, secluded life he lives with his squad is no place for a wife and kids… Until one day Reader and Omega stumble onto his land. They’re on the run, and their past is shrouded in mystery, but he offers them shelter and protection. The Batch comes to their aid, and Hunter gets a taste of the family life he’s been dreaming of.

Word Count: 1,006)

   Breakfast was a relaxed affair.  The three of you ate and made small talk.  Afterwards, Hunter took your plates and deposited them in a larger container for washing later.  You once again offered assistance as a gesture of gratitude for his hospitality, but this time he accepted.  You helped him take down the hanging laundry and fold it while Omega volunteered to do dishes.  Hunter filled a basin with water from a pump outside and set it down on the counter.

   “Here, use this..”

   You noted the dish soap’s packaging.  It wasn’t a typical plastic container.  It was a glass bottle that had a label scribbled on by hand.  Fabric was tied around the bottleneck with twine to seal it.  “Do you make everything around here?” you asked in amazement.

   He smirked.  “Actually, I bought this from some friends of mine in town who sell homemade products.  It’s less garbage I need to worry about disposing of.”

   You folded another shirt carefully and set it down on the pile.  “How often do you go into town?”

   Hunter added another log to the stove and closed it back up.  “Once every few weeks or so because it’s far to walk.”

   “Sounds like a refreshing walk,” you said.

   “It’s not bad in the warmer weather.  In the winter, I don’t go nearly as often.  I try to stock up on things I’ll need before the cold hits.”

   “I can imagine.”  You finished the last of the folding and carried the piles to his bed so he could put them away.  It was difficult not to linger and get another look at the cozy bedroom.  With the soft glow of the lantern and assorted animal furs, he must get good sleep there, you thought.  When you emerged, you saw Omega motioning for you to stand beside her as Hunter pulled up a stool in the kitchen.

   There was static and a faint voice speaking on the radio device that you’d seen sitting on the counter.  He adjusted a dial, and the voice got louder.

   “...I repeat, this is Tech.”

   “I read you, Tech.  This is Hunter checking in.  What’s up?”

   “Yeah, what’s up?” another man’s hearty voice joined in.

   “Hello, Wrecker.  Crosshair, Echo, do you read me as well?”

   There was a sigh.  “Yes.”

   And another responded with, “yes, sir.”

   The one who called himself “Tech” over the radio continued his message.  “I am alerting you all of an incoming storm.  Be prepared to be snowed in for the next few days.”

   Hunter adjusted another dial when the static became unbearable and spoke into the mic.  “When’s this supposed to start?”

   “Within a couple of hours.”

   “Copy that,” he said with a serious nod.  “Thanks for the warning.”

   “Also, on the subject of news, the missing person alert has changed,” Tech said.  “The case of the missing woman and child has been reclassified as a kidnapping.  It says that the child is in considerable danger.”

   Your blood ran cold at his words.  Your hand instinctively went to take Omega’s, and she looked at you with wide eyes and a frown on her face.  Both of you held your breaths.  Hunter stole a glance over his shoulder before responding to the update casually.

   “I’ll keep an eye out.”

   “As we all will,” the coiled voice added.

   “Alright, that is all.  As always, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to contact me before the weather gets too severe.  Tech, over and out.”

   Silence fell over the cabin.  Hunter dialed down the radio and shifted on the stool to face you and Omega.  Those intense eyes found yours, both sending a chill down your spine and making your chest tighten at the same time.  What would he do?  Did he really believe the alert?  Would he contact the authorities?

   “You wanna’ tell me what’s going on?” he asked.  He didn’t sound harsh or even irritated.  Hunter glanced between the two of you as he patiently waited for an explanation.

   “I promise, I’m here of my own will,” Omega spoke up, squeezing your hand.

   “That, I can tell,” he said with a nod.  “So, why is there an alert?”

   Several seconds passed in tense silence as his question hung in the air.  Omega lowered her head, unable to think of a response.  In the meantime, you were searching your brain for something to say.  

   “Custody,” you blurted finally.  “I mean...It’s a complicated custody situation.  With my ex.  That’s why we can’t go to the police.  That’s why we’re on the run.”

   See, this story made sense.  It better explained why the two of you were in the situation that you were.  Something clicked then in Hunter’s eyes, and you realized that he accepted this answer much quicker than the first.  Guilt rose in your chest at deceiving him, but it would only be a short while…  Soon, you and Omega could continue on your way and leave the poor man out of any further involvement.

   “As a matter of fact, we’ve been here too long as it is,” you continued, and tears nearly pricked your eyes at the utterly heartbroken look on Omega’s face at your words.  “We really should be going.”

   “Didn’t you hear?” Hunter nodded in the direction of the radio.  “There’s a blizzard coming.  You won’t get very far, even if you leave this second.”

   Omega looked hopeful as you considered this.

   “Look, I know I should call the authorities,” Hunter said.  “It just so happens that I don’t get any decent phone service out here.”  He cracked a smile, and you couldn’t help but mirror it as he slid off the stool and headed for the front door.  “It’s your choice, of course, if you want to leave.  Just know that you’re both safe here and welcome to stay.”

   Omega’s pleading gaze was locked on you, and you felt your shoulders sag as a defeated sigh escaped your lips.  “Alright.  If it isn’t an inconvenience, Omega and I will stay until the storm lets up.”

[britishassistant]

I accept your adopted reporter!Yuu au, but what if they ran away from the families and got adopted by Crewel's sister. Like, Yuu just gets overwhelmed with being starved and abused by Miss Rosehearts, always being pitied for not having magic like the rest of the Kingschoolar family, having to basically be bellow the Asim all the time, or be prepared to die in order to protec Malleus Draconia. So they just run away. It was such a cold night when they left their "home". They were shivering, trembeling, maybe from the cold or fear they didn't know. In the midlle of nowhere they heard a loud bark, then the sound became higher and for some reason it multiplied, the fragille child just gave up after hearring it, laying on the ground accepting their fate, when the dogs got near the kid they closed their eyes, only to be licked multiple times in the face, confused they made a decision to open their eyes. The dogs were just puppies, they signed in relief, the adorable fluffy balls started guiding the to a house, where there was a woman and her husband frantically looking for their dalmatians, when they look at the entrace of their house and see their small angels with a shivering child they immediatly take them in. Since the previous family didn't even bother to search for them, the lovely couple just adopt the child.

(Sorry for the long ask and bad grammar, English is not my first language)

-Lz

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

(And don’t worry about it! Your English is fine! I love long asks anyways!!)

And oooh, there’s so much potential here!

Especially for Divus coming to visit one weekend and just spiderman pointing at experiment #Y26 sitting in the center of the living room in a puppy pile, like “how did you get here?!?”

While little Yuu is just bug-eyed at being pointed at by a stranger, hugging a puppy close.

Heartslaybul:

Yuu tries to get Riddle to come with them when running away from the Rosehearts household. Riddle refuses point blank. Running away would be against the rules. He can’t break the rules. Yuu breaks so many rules and gets so hurt...and Mother was so angry when she realized they’d broken the rules together on Riddle’s birthday. They have a fight about it, with Riddle screaming that Yuu should just go if they’re going, or he’ll tell Mother! That’s the last conversation they have as Rosehearts siblings.

Yuu sends back letters, constantly coaxing Riddle to join them, telling him he’d love the puppies, that he could eat all the strawberry tart he wanted, that there’s always room for one more in the Radcliffe family. Mrs. Rosehearts found the tenth one while Riddle was reading it. She tore it up, confiscated all his others, and destroyed any new ones that came in, telling Riddle to forget them, that he had no sibling. It’s telling that when kidnapped by Royal Flush, Yuu recognizes Trey first before figuring out who the supervillain now holding them hostage is. Riddle for his part is hardly able to keep his masquerade together when he realizes who was the one involved in the destruction of his precious fertilizer.

It’s a very awkward reunion, not helped by Chen’ya deciding to ‘save’ them at the most inopportune moment and dropping them off a balcony. Yuu makes an effort to stick their nose into Royal Flush’s schemes and get kidnapped by his minions more on purpose. They refuse to leave him behind again. Riddle won’t say he’s grateful for the clumsy attempts to make up lost time, but he’s more irritated when other supervillains keep kidnapping his sibling and putting them in danger, especially when none of them are suitable for Yuu!

Savannaclaw:

It doesn’t help when everyone tells Yuu that they’re not cut out to be a Kingscholar. Yuu tries their best, tries so hard, but it always feels like it’s not enough, never enough, when even Leona-nii tells them it’d be better if they weren’t in this family, if a powerless human like them just disappeared. So they follow his advice. It hurts them badly when no one even comes looking, when their ex-parents send them a letter later in life forbidding them from attending the celebration of Farena-nii’s first child, their nephew, saying they’ll have them arrested for trespasssing if they don’t turn down their oldest brother’s invitation.

They try to stay away from news of the Kingscholars, only exchanging brief letters and emails with Farena-nii, Leona hasn’t even replied to the first letter they sent him. They do well, becoming a fine reporter and shining on their own merits and hard work. They get embroiled with Royal Flush, becoming far more entangled with a supervillain than their common sense says is wise. And then they get kidnapped from Royal Flush’s lair by a rival, have a selfie taken with this new villain’s minions.

They recognize Leona-nii’s drawl as they’re set down in a cheap chair. He at least looks as rudely surprised as they do when the bag is pulled off of their head again. A very tense reunion, with accusations about abandonment and cowardice and not replying to letters being thrown back and forth. Ruggie, Jack and the other minions very much wish they weren’t in the room for this. Then Royal Flush and his Card Guards show up to rescue Yuu, and Leona decides now is the best time to play the overprotective big brother, much to Yuu’s exasperation.

Scarabia:

Yuu wouldn’t run from the Vipers just because they were constantly being told they were lesser. They could endure that, even as it slowly broke them. But if they failed to protect the Asim they were supposed to guard with their life? If they couldn’t stop him from getting hurt, and were deemed a failure as a bodyguard, not as naturally clever and cautious as Jamil and his sister? Then they would run, for fear of what the Asim would do to a failure of a servant who couldn’t fulfill their duty.

Jamil’s the one who tells them to, and has Kalim create a diversion so they can get out. He burns every letter they send back without reading them—they’re proof his sibling is alive, but also a potential way for them to be tracked down and cause problems. Yuu recognizes Snake Charmer within a minute of being kidnapped, because who else would do that tongue thing he always did when he was winning at mancala when they were kids? And then they realize to their horror who that means Water Boy is. Cue furious muffled whispering between the pair about why he would rope Kalim into becoming a supervillain, he can’t keep a secret to save his life, that it wasn’t his idea, Kalim just invited himself along for the ride, you know how hard it is to get him to quit when he’s set on something!

Kalim is just really happy to see Yuu-chan again! They’re alive! And okay! And look good! And not dead! He’s really, really glad they’re not dead! And feel so nice to hug now! Jamil, don’t they feel nice to hug now! Jamil feels many, many alarm bells going off in his head, and it’s not just because of all the other supervillains who are sniffing around his sibling.

Diasomnia:

The one family that lets Yuu go willingly and stays in touch with them after they end up with the Radcliffes. Lilia is upset when comforting Yuu about their persistent nightmares about being incapable of protecting Malleus, cleaning them up when the stress makes them physically ill and strains their previously excellent relationship with the young master and the other guards nearly to the breaking point. It’s breaking Malleus’ young heart to see his ‘younger sibling’ push themselves like this, only to hate themselves when they fall short. He wishes they could go back to before, when he’d walk around with them as a chubby little baby in his arms and all they worried about was whether he was mispronouncing the gargoyle terms in his architecture books.

Maleficent is also sad when Lilia reports that he doesn’t think Yuu’s cut out for the type of work the Silver and Sebek have taken to with such ease. She’s fond of the child, so she personally searches out the best family she thinks will take care of Yuu while being safe enough for Malleus to visit if he wants to. The Radcliffes are an unexpected gem, relatives of an old acquaintance who already has a vested interest in Yuu’s survival and who knows better than to cross her. Plus Malleus and Yuu both seemed very taken by the puppies, which scored major points.

Malleus, Silver, Lilia, and Sebek will often visit Yuu on weekends and certain holidays when they’re growing up. Anita and Roger need to stop Maleficent trying to pay for everything when Yuu’s growing up. Yuu is initially concerned when Malleus becomes a supervillain, especially when he takes the childhood nickname they gave him as his supervillain name, but does their best to support him. Malleus, for his part, is having the time of his life, enjoying his late night walks and tea parties with his sibling now they’ve both grown up. But his colleagues’ interest in the little reporter make him and his closest lieutenants worry about Yuu, especially when the love potion and marriage contracts come into play...

[fictionalfics]

I had an idea. Could you do a crossover thingy where Aizawa has a daughter and she goes missing and he comes in the next day looking worse than normal and then the broadcast gets sent out and Aizawa sees his daughter in it and he gets either happy she’s alive or sad because she’s in a war?

This is s great idea! I’ve never written a parent fic before, so this is quite a challenge. Hope it came out okay!

Title: Not This Time

Pairing: Dad!Aizawa x Daughter!Reader

!TW: VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, MENTIONS OF K*LLING, LIGHT ALCOHOL USE!

(Gifs not mine)

“Aizawa-sensei’s been sleeping a lot more than usual, have you noticed Iida-kun?” Midoriya looks at his classmate expectantly as they make their way to the dining hall.

It was true, their rugged teacher had been sleeping in class a lot more lately. He had barely greeted his class before the yellow sleeping bag made its appearance. 

“I’m sure its nothing, Deku,” Ochako chimes in, “This is the first time in a while he’s taught a full class. Besides, you know who he has to deal with.“

Midoriya chuckles as his friend gestures to Kaminari, Bakugo and Kirishima - they didn’t mean to be, but they were one of the main sources of trouble in class 1-A.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

                                                         --------

Back kick. Block. Jump, kick, dodge. Bend the knees, feet to the floor. Breathe, start again. 

The thick material of your scarf is tight around your palms as you dodge attack after attack. You hold your hand out and erase the enemy’s quirk, before landing a swift chop to the neck. Another one down. You handcuff them as fast as you can before dodging a beam of light. It just catches you ear, the scent of burnt hair becoming more intense as you roll to the side.

A stakeout operation gone wrong. A local gang that turned out to be something much bigger. You were fighting a war that had nearly run its course, and this mission was meant to be one of the last. That was, until your stakeout partner revealed she was working for the other team, a double agent. 

That left you in this mess. You wished your dad was there with you right now, but he wasn’t. He’d taught you to cope on your own, you told yourself. You’d manage.

Smack!

                                                       -------

Three days. No text, no call, no you. Shouta had waited in the living room all night, sipping coffee to stay awake. It had been three days since you walked out the door with a great big smile on your face, saying goodbye as you left for work.

Ten years ago, the seemingly heartless man had taken you into his care after saving you from your burning orphanage. The hero saw himself in you, especially since your quirks were so similar. He trained you himself, teaching how to use the capture rope alongside your fists.

You had enrolled in Shiketsu High, in order to separate yourself from your dad, and started your work studies with a mid-ranked but successful pro in your second year. 

Shouta was extremely proud of you, and made sure you knew it every single day.

But it was unlike you to stay out for days at a time without contact. The first night wasn’t so bad - maybe she’s at the bar with friends, I’ll see her in the morning, he thought to himself.

You weren’t there in the morning. He put it down to you staying over a friend’s house - he was up pretty early after all, so you’d be home later.

Nope. Nothing. He continued to make excuses up for you all night, and all the way into the morning too, only grabbing an hour’s sleep before leaving for work.

When he came home to an empty house for the third day in a row, he started to panic for real. Texted you every hour, on the hour. Called a couple of times. Called your workplace, to no avail.

6:30 on the clock. Shouta chugged the rest of his coffee and slung his work bag over his shoulder as he noted it was day four now. Work was going to be a long one.

                                                        ------

Your ears rang as your former partner delivered another slap to your face.

“This would be over so much quicker if you told me where the boss is being held hostage, Y/N. You’re making this so hard for yourself!”

“Go to hell.”

Wack!

A scream held back in your throat, your teeth grind together as you fight through the pain. The edges of your vision began to go black, and you almost considered telling the gang everything.

                                                        ------

Shouta’s thumb was over the send button when he heard your name on the local news. 

Y/N Aizawa missing in action. Something about a fight against a gang, an ambush they said. No other details could be released for citizen safety.

The hero didn’t even realise he’d slid off the couch to kneel in front of the TV. Missing in action. He rested his forehead on the box, his hair sticking to the screen due to static.

Missing. You were missing.

His legs carried him to the agency you worked with. His voice demanded to see your boss, begged for the details of your whereabouts.

They wouldn’t tell him. “We cannot release details to the public, its for her safety as well as theirs,” your boss told him.

Shouta argued that he wasn’t the public, that he was a hero like you.

“There’s nothing more we can do, I’m afraid.”

                                                       -------

The ropes had begun to bite into your wrists as you hung from the ceiling. After deciding the initial interrogation was obsolete, the gang had taken you to a new building and strung you up. Your feet could almost touch the floor, but had given up trying to get free an hour ago. Possibly. You didn’t know how long you’d been there. You were sure you’d stayed awake, but even blinking felt like it took days in that dark room.

You strained your ears from information.

Move........found.....kill her.......risk? No......stupid.....

There wasn’t enough for you to piece together the crumbs of information. You were sure you were going to die at this point. So much potential, a great future ahead of you.

No, you can’t think like that! What would Dad do in this situation?

You couldn’t answer that one. Instead, you hummed a lullaby to yourself - your favourite that he used to sing to you if you’d had a nightmare. This entire situation was a bit of a nightmare, so you thought it was appropriate.

The door opened before you, the bright light bringing tears to your eyes.

                                                       -----

“She’s gotta be alright Shou, she’s tough! Besides, didn’t you go MIA all the time?” 

Hizashi did his best to comfort his friend, handing him a small glass of whiskey, which Shouta drank in one. He slammed the glass to the table with a dull thud.

“That’s different Yamada. I knew where I was, and I was never gone for long. I don’t know where she is, and it’s been nearly a week.”

The blond runs his palm down his face, not wanting to admit the he feared the worst too.

“She’s a hero Shou, bad things happen. You know the dangers and she does too, she’s not dumb.”

“Another whiskey please.”

Hizashi refilled Shouta’s glass, and the liquid disappeared as quickly as he’d poured it.

“She’ll be okay Shou.” 

                                                       ------

Your arms were freed of their painful restraints as your friends occupied the gang and, summoning as much strength as you could, dragged yourself to your feet, using your peer as a crutch. Your head turned to watch your team take on the four or five people that had taken you hostage, silently celebrating as you limped to the exit.

“Sorry we took so long Y/N, it took us a while to figure out where they’d taken ya!”

A tired chuckle escaped you as your co-worker apologised. “At least you’re here now.” Your response wasn’t completely a joke, but you couldn’t blame them. This gang was good at hiding.

“The whole operation is gonna be extended, thanks to the newbie. We had no idea she was a double agent- it’s gonna set us back to square one!”

Double agent. You scolded yourself for not catching on in time. “I’m sorry, I should have figured out sooner. Now the entire mission’s been compromised.”

Your peer sat you in the back of an ambulance that had come along with the police.

“Don’t beat yourself up silly! Even us pros didn’t know, there was no way a student could have guessed!”

The fight was over relatively quickly, thankfully. After the criminals were handed over to the police for interrogation, you were escorted back to the agency to be patched up, and report to the higher-ups.

                                                         ------

Eraser didn’t immediately jump up when the front door creaked open. He was a hundred miles away, trying to convince you to take a day off instead of going to work. You’d be home with him that way, smiling as you cooked your favourite meal in the kitchen. That smile... How badly he missed it.

He felt the couch sink next to him.

“Sorry I’m late Dad, I had one hell of a day at work!”

Dad? He snapped back to reality as the words sunk in. He looked to where the voice came from - his eyes traced it back to you. Covered in cuts and bruises, dark circles adorning your eyes, but you all the same.

“Y/N!” The dark haired man jumped up and lifted you into his arms. You giggled and squeezed him back, giddy with relief.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are grounded forever! What the hell happened to you?”

He set you down on the couch as you began to explain as much as you could, without giving away classified information.

“But I’m here now! I’ve got about a week to recover, because I wasn’t injured too badly, plus they did hold me in the recovery room for a day.”

“A week?” His shoulders slumped at the thought of you fighting. “They’re sending you back out there?”

“Yeah. The mission isn’t over yet, we have to dismantle them completely.”

Shouta ran a hand through his hair, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Promise me you won’t go missing again.”

“I can’t. You of all people should know that.”

“Humour me.”

Breaking eye contact, you sighed, before looking back at your father and smiling as wide as you could. “I won’t go missing this time Dad. I promise.”

“Good.” Shouta patted your head before standing up and making a beeline for the kitchen. “You’re still grounded forever.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts!”

“Even if I make you some coffee? Maybe cook some yakitori?”

“I may reconsider,” he chuckled. You always knew your way to his heart.

He loved his daughter so damn much.

[severide-kelly]

crazybostonian

Across the One Chicago "universe" I have major issues with the lack of attention to the mental health of these characters. So many things are overlooked and just passed off for the sake of drama. I mean Kelly kills a man, yes in self-defense, but ... its all good off to the wedding we go! @crazybostonian Right. I mean, I am hoping there's still some fallout from the season finale because that story clearly isn't over. I feel like I want to see Severide targeted again by the guys after him as it seems like the idea is now to stop him from potentially testifying in the future. But I don't see how they do it unless they just outright try and kill him tbh, because a beating didn't stop him and sending one guy with a knife didn't stop him either. What I don't want to see is for Stella to get caught up in it in terms of them kidnapping her, because I'm sick of seeing women used as emotional scapegoats for male characters. Severide has had that enough with Shay and Anna's deaths. And Katie was kidnapped too because of him. I think it would be refreshing if they target him and honestly, I feel like if I was writing the show, I'd just have them torch the cabin- have them both get out and either Kelly goes back in because there's something of his Dad's in there which he stupidly goes back for or some other dumb reason why he doesn't get out when she does. He gets hurt but not terribly bad. But then they come for him again not long after, maybe on a call so it puts others at risk too and at this point, the police need to wrap up the story (maybe with a PD crossover episode) and Kelly isn't a target any more, but as the dust settles on it all, the consequences of all he went through start to settle in. What I think would be most interesting for Severide's character is something to do with his mental health but not PTSD as they only touched on that last series, but something like he goes through some depression and he's trying not to admit it but he just can't get through it. Kelly's always shown as a strong character and I think it would be a good thing to show a character like that can have a blip. Of course, I don't think they'll actually do any of this, but I guess this is what fanfic is for. ;)

I don't watch PD or Med, but on Fire, the inconsistency with injury or mental stress is pretty up and down. They did a fairly good job a couple of times with Cruz and his mental health when things have gone bad. Like in the first season where he left some guy to die in the fire because he was a gangster (was pretty certain he *would* go back and save him- an interesting decision they made with that) and the boat accident where he had some PTSD too, but other times someone goes through a stressful situation and it's just like 'meh'. I know their job is stressful and so they can't always have people dealing very affected by it, but sometimes there's literally nothing.

I think the rushed recoveries after an injury is a mistake. I understand they don't want the actors to be sidelined for weeks at a time but it could work. Like if Severide couldn't work for Squad due to recovering from an injury, he could go to OFI temporarily as they have him over there nearly once a season now anyway. And if it made what they did with rescues seem more dangerous and have consequences you'd feel like the characters are in more danger as well.

I also really hated how they handled Benny's death in terms of Kelly's grief, specifically, how it was portrayed that he was being a shitty boyfriend when Stella was kinda odd with how she wanted him to socialise with a guy she knew he didn't like, rather than just supporting him. I get that he was also being a dick at times but he was still grieving. And then he got lectured about he wasn't worthy of Stella. The whole thing came off really badly, IMO. I like the idea that he wanted to be good enough for her, but I don't think having other people tell him at that time was the way to do it.

And... I'm so sorry, I guess I had a lot to say. lol!

[flowercrown-bard]

A new us will begin (interlude)

the loveliest @thingr2 asked for Dandy’s pov of what happens between chapter eight and nine (thanks for letting me procrastinate a little longer by writing things like this instead ;) )

I’m not sure if there are spoilers for the rest of the fic in this and this is unedited

word count: 4k

Tw: mention of past major character death, blood

„We have to turn back!“ Dandy shouted. One cry in a row of a hundred others. The whole ride through he had pleaded, cried, begged for Mika to just turn around. “Geralt is still back there. Mika, please!”

His pleas fell on death ears. Or perhaps Mika did answer. At first, they had tried to sooth Dandy, reassuring them with soft words like a mother would a child when the child was scared of a monster. But Dandy wasn’t a child anymore. And not all monsters were figments of children’s imagination. Some children died fleeing monsters. Some mothers did too.

And yet Mika kept fleeing. They all did. Whether they were still trying to calm Dandy or if they had given up by now, Dandy wouldn’t be able to tell. His blood rushed too loudly in his ears and the hoof drums sounded like thunder; the merciless rhythm of a battle song, getting louder with each beat that carried him further from Geralt, the horse’s panting creating the skincrawling harmonies.

And above all was Dandy’s own voice, a terrible solo in dissonance with the rest of the music.

“Geralt!” There were no more words left. Dandy had written a play. In his most private moments, he had even tried his hand at poetry. His words had brought audience members to tears and made his friends laugh. Now, though there was nothing. No poetry, no artful prose. Just the name of the man who might never say Dandy’s name again.

Dandy wished he could do more than scream that name. He wished he could jump off the horse, run back and safe Geralt from whatever he was facing, all alone and not knowing if the troupe would come back for him. They needed to come back for him!

But Dandy might as well have been chained to the horse. Even if he somehow got down to feel solid ground beneath his feet, he would have no way of telling where he was or where he should be going. All he could do was cling onto Mika’s arms around him and pray he didn’t fall off.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity – even a couple of minutes could have been too long, could have been enough to let Geralt die all alone – he felt the horse slow beneath him. He was jostled worse than before when Roach went from a gallop to a trod, until eventually, her movements got smoother and halted completely.

There was clanging and muttered words of relief as the others dismounted. Dandy was forced to remain on top of Roach until someone tapped his leg and told him to slowly dismount.

Strong arms caught him, guiding him down until his feet reached the ground. It wasn’t the arms he had secretly hoped he would feel. Dandy knew it was impossible, but a foolish part of him had hoped that Geralt had somehow seen reason, that he had followed them and was safe with them now.

But the arms holding them felt different. The voice reassuring him that he was fine wasn’t deep or raspy enough. It was loving, but it lacked that special undertone that always tinged Geralt’s voice and made Dandy’s heart beat faster.

Now, his heart only raced with fear.

“Geralt.” His voice was but a breath. “Where is he?”

The silence that followed was answer enough. No one knew. No one had dared slow down their flight enough to see if Geralt needed help.

“He’s a witcher,” the person holding him finally said. “He’ll be fine. He came with us to protect us and that’s what he’s doing.”

“No he didn’t!” Dandy was taken aback himself by the unexpected sharpness of his voice. “He didn’t. He is with us, because I asked him to come. I am the reason why he’s in danger, because I was too selfish to leave without at least trying to keep him close. And now he might die-“ His voice cracked and his eyes began to burn. “And he will be all alone. I can’t let him be alone! I have to go back, I have to be with him-“

“Dandy!” The hands holding his upper arms tightened and the sharp tone brought his spiralling thoughts to a grinding halt. “You have to calm down. We won’t just abandon Geralt. He’s one of us. You know we don’t just abandon family.”

Dumbly Dandy nodded. The gesture felt empty, like a mask he was putting on, but there was a familiarity to it. Remembering how to react with his expressions and gestures was just enough of a distraction to stop him from going back to crashing into the abyss of terror and anger.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know. But he’s – “

“Nadine is getting help,” the person reassured him. “We’re outside a town. Nadine is talking to the alderman as we speak. All we can do is wait now for help to arrive.”

Waiting. Again. It seemed that was all Dandy could do. In his mind, he spun an impossible future, in which he swung himself onto Roach, kidnapped her and rode off to find Geralt. He found himself mentally going through all kinds of stiches and potions that might help a wounded witcher. He already dreamed about dragging Geralt back to an inn room and taking care of him until he could be sure Geralt would survive.

Rationally, he knew that those fantasies were nothing more than that: Cruel dreams that taunted him with how unachievable they were. Dandy couldn’t climb on top of a horse again. All he could do now was pull away from the person holding him - just enough to take a few steps, but still touching them for orientation- and clinging to Roach’s neck instead, her warm breath huffing against his neck and her hooves stomping nervously. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be so close to an unsettled horse, but for some reason, being near Roach was a bigger comfort than listening to his troupe’s words as they tried to comfort him. Geralt always smelled of Roach. Being so close to her, he could nearly imagine what it would smell like, if Roach’s scent was mixed with the smoke of a campfire and the heavy scent of pines.

Imaginings. That was all Dandy had now, wasn’t it? Imagining Geralt was alight. Imagining Dandy could somehow help him.

No one in their right mind would let Dandy sew up a wound and he didn’t even know if witchers truly took potions. Geralt had never talked about any such thing and neither had Dandy’s tutor ever mentioned potions – and she had made sure that he knew plenty of witchers, Geralt of Rivia especially. She would have told him if Geralt needed potions, wouldn’t she?

But Dandy could do nothing. His whole being was filled with one single thought, one unbending need: To get back to Geralt. To be with him. To make sure he wasn’t alone.

Geralt didn’t deserve to live alone. He didn’t deserve to die alone either.

By the time voices drew nearer and people were shouting about getting gallons of water onto a wagon, Dandy almost felt numb, his fantasies about how life could be no longer sustaining him.

It was only when he heard the squeaking of too slow wagons rolling away, when he snapped back to full alertness.

“Nadine!” he shouted without thinking. He had no way of knowing if she was anywhere close enough to be able to hear him, but she was probably leading the helpful townsfolk. And she would never ignore one of her family if they needed her. She hadn’t ignored him when he had still been a boy, barely deserving to be called a young man, insecure and uncertain if he’d ever be able to find his own footing. Back then, she hadn’t hesitated to give him a place in her family and not once had she let him down when he had needed her. “Nadine, take me with you! I need to go back to him!”

Painfully tense seconds passed in which no one responded. The shuffling, squeaking, shouting continued and Dandy was left as he was, feeling like he was alone standing on a rock in the sea while a storm raged around him. He couldn’t tell when the first wave was going to crash into him and drag him under.

Heavy steps came closer and a hand tugged at his sleeves. “It’s me, Kara.”

Dandy tensed. “Kara, please –“

She didn’t let him finish. “Mika’s helping getting the water on the wagons and Nadine is making sure the rest are unharmed.”

“I can help. I swear I’m not useless. I can help with Geralt –“

“Doesn’t matter,” Kara said firmly. “I don’t care if you’re useless or the most useful person in the world. Geralt is important to you and you’re important to all of us, so I’ll be damned if I don’t take you with me.”

The pressure that had steadily been building behind Dandy’s eyes finally became too much. Tears welled over, rolling down his cheeks as his shoulders shook with sobs. There had been no wave crashing into him. Dandy had been the one to crash. Now, he would drag himself back on land and he would make sure Geralt would emerge from the sea-tossed storm with him.

He let Kara hoist him on top of Roach again and felt her saddle up behind him. She called out to someone else – Jasof, Iva, Marin. The stagehands; the strongest of the troupe.

Dandy assumed they were riding with them, as Kara clucked her tongue and spurned Roach on once more.

Impossibly, the way back felt even longer than it had taken them to get to the town. But this time, Dandy could tell they were getting close, even before the horses slowed.

There was crackling in the air, roaring, hissing. A wave of heat hit him in the face. Immediately, his eyes teared up again and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep out the burning sensation. It didn’t work. The overpowering stench of smoke filled his lungs, choking him, drowning him.

“Geralt,” he wheezed.

Kara’s let out a noise that probably was supposed to sound soothing, but the tremble in her body that was pressed against Dandy’s proved her act a lie.

“Stay here,” Kara commanded once she had dismounted and helped Dandy down again.

Dandy did as he was bid, fisting his hand into Roach’s mane. It was all he could do.

He felt painfully naked without his cane and when Kara stepped away from him, he had no way of orienting himself, no hope of knowing if he’d be any help or put them all in even more danger if he were to move.

A new wave of smoke rattled his lungs and his whole body shook with his coughs. Roach grew more and more agitated by the second, neighing and stomping her hooves.

“Where is he?”

The shout startled Dandy out of his frozen panic.

“I can’t find him. I – there’s blood.”

No. No!

Before Dandy could think twice about what he was doing, he pushed himself away from Roach and took an uncertain step. His heart was racing in his chest, all instincts telling him to turn back, to cling to Roach, to stay where he was! He didn’t know where he was going. He might be walking straight into danger and he’d be nonethewiser.

Snow crunched beneath his feet. The fire roared to his right. Roach huffed to his left. And his friends shouted helplessly for Geralt all around him.

The cacophony of noise made him even more disoriented. Where was he? Was he even anywhere close to Geralt?

He didn’t know. And yet his feel carried him forwards, shuffling, slow and careful. One miniscule step at the time, his hands stretched out before him. He wished he had his cane with him. He wished he knew where anything was. He wished Geralt was here to gently guide him.

But he was alone.

And yet…

There was something compelling him to move. I need to find him. I need to get back to him. I can’t leave him alone!

The words repeated over and over in his mind like a mantra, like they were the essence of that his soul was made up of. Just the need to get back to find Geralt. In this moment, his entire life was directed towards that one goal and for some reason he couldn’t explain, he knew with an unnatural certainty that he could fulfil his wish. He could find Geralt. He always would.

His foot caught on something. He staggered and fell forward, catching the fall with his hands. They met something solid. Wood. It splintered and dug into his hand, but it was unmistakable nonetheless.

It wasn’t enough to orient himself or give him any clue about why a wagon seemed to be so close to the ground, but it was a start. He trailed his hands over the wood, following the edge, crawling along the line of the destroyed wagon.

Until finally, his hands found something other than wood. It was soft, warm, and moving shallowly with weak breaths.

“Geralt,” he whispered, his voice breaking with hope he didn’t dare to latch onto. His throat went tight. It was him. It had to be him!

Dandy’s hands roamed over every inch of him he could find. His fingers found cold metal and closed around it instinctively. Round, with bumps in the middle. Geralt’s medallion. It was vibrating, pulsing in time with Dandy’s heartbeat.

His hands wandered lower and met something wet and sticky.

His stomach twisted and his blood felt cold as the snow that was soaking him where he kneeled on the ground.

“Kara!” he shouted over the roaring of the fire. “He’s here! I found him! He needs help!”

His voice was raw, shrill with fear.

He heard people running towards him, felt a pair of hands pulling him away, holding him tight. He couldn’t tell if the person holding him wanted to make sure he knew where he was or if they wanted to make sure that he stayed where he was. Holding him or holding him back.

It felt like the latter.

Dandy focussed all his senses on Geralt. He heard groans, pants and splintering. The others must be lifting the wood off of Geralt. They were the strongest of the troupe. They had to be strong enough for this…right?

After another helpless eternity, the world around Dandy grew louder. More shouts. The squealing of a wooden wagon. Splashing and hissing as water met fire.

The townsfolk must have arrived and they must be extinguishing the fire. And yet no one was hastening to Geralt.

“A healer!” He heard someone cry. “We have an injured person!”

“He’s dead,” came the reply that made Dandy’s hands clench on his thighs and made him strain against the hold. “No one can survive being crushed under a wagon.”

“He can!” Dandy shouted. The arms around him tightened. “He’s a witcher! He can survive more than that. He got swallowed by a selkimore and survived. He made it through the war with Nilfgaard. He is the only witcher who survived extra trials!”

He didn’t know how much of that was even true. Maybe it was something his tutor had told him about or maybe it was just something his panicked mind was making up, trying to convince him that he wasn’t about to lose Geralt.

The shouting stopped.

“A witcher?” There was something in that unfamiliar voice. Something terrible. Cold fury. Hot, burning hatred.  “You didn’t tell us we were helping a witcher.”

“I didn’t think it necessary,” Nadine said in that tone she used when the actors messed around too much during rehearsals. “He needs help and we are –“

“We’re not helping mutants,” the stranger spat.

The sound of movement fluttered around Dandy.

“What are you talking about?” Dandy tried to pull himself free. Maybe it was better that Kara was stronger than him. It wouldn’t have ended well for him if he had freed himself. “He is a good man! He saved us and he has been saving people for a century!”

“Let him save himself then.” Dandy could practically hear the sneer in the stranger’s voice. “Or better yet, let him die.”

“How dare you, you worthless son of a –“

Quick steps approaching, Kara and Nadine shouting in tandem and then a smack in his face that flung his head to the side.

He let out a sharp cry, more out of shock than pain. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could feel Kara shift their positions, bringing herself between Dandy and the man who had hit him.

The stranger didn’t let that deter him.

“Listen here, you bastard,” the man hissed in a low voice that sent shivers down Dandy’s spine. “My town won’t help mutants like him. We are leaving. You’re lucky we don’t burn down the rest of your wagons for tricking us.” Snow crunched, as he got even closer. Dandy could feel Kara tense. “You can be lucky you’re still alive. Someone like you…breakable, gullible, expendable. Of course you’d feel kinship with someone else who’s just as unwanted as you. But you should let him die. Or else you’ll be the one to die. Maybe not today, but sooner or later, he’ll be the cause of your death and when that day comes remember that I warned you.”

“That’s enough-“ Nadine’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “Leave him alone. I appreciate that you helped with the fire, but I won’t let you talk to Dandy like-“

“I don’t care.” Dandy said, a fire coming to life in his chest, growing stronger with each word the man had spoken. “I don’t care what you say, Sir. If I had to, I would stand between Geralt and the likes of you any time. I will defend him as long as there is breath in my lungs to speak and tell people like you that you are wrong.”

For a tense moment, there was only silence. Then finally, the man huffed and retreated, the other people that had followed him here to fight the fire, following him once again.

Dandy should have felt triumph at having had the last word, but all he had was a coldness and heaviness spreading through his limbs.

He hadn’t known – Geralt had told him that not all people liked witchers. He had warned him. But Dandy hadn’t realised that this dislike, this unreasonable hatred went so deep that people would leave Geralt to die.

When Geralt had told Dandy that he was hated, he had meant for it to warn Dandy to stay away from him. All it did now, was solidify what Dandy had already known: That he would stand by Geralt, stand between him and the world if he had to and stay there until no one doubted that Geralt was worth defending – even if Geralt himself was one of the people Dandy had to convince of that.

He stood to the side, leaning against Kara, until someone pressed his cane into his hand. The familiar weight made him let out a dry sob. It was too much. It was all too much. And he was doing too little.

He could do nothing but listen as the others carried Geralt into one of the wagons, only moving to say that they could put him in Dandy’s wagon. He heard Clarisse say that stitching up wounds was nothing like sewing costumes, but she would still try everything in her power to treat Geralt’s wounds.

As Dandy waited, something nudged his shoulder from behind. Warm breath ghosted over his neck.

“Roach,” he said without thinking about it twice or asking anyone if he assumed correctly. A weak smile stretched his lips as he caressed her nose. “He’s going to be fine. I promise, he will be alright.”

He wished he could believe it himself.

Later, when he was finally allowed to go into his wagon and see to Geralt himself, he sat down on the bed heavily. His hands twitched at his sides, before finally, he reached out, finding Geralt’s hair and running through it in a soothing motion. He didn’t know if he was trying to calm Geralt or himself.

Once he started touching him, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t be apart from him again. Not now, not after being left unknowing for so long whether Geralt would live or die.

“Geralt,” he whispered, leaning closer until he could feel Geralt’s breath ghosting across his face. “Geralt, can you hear me?”

No reply. Dandy pressed his free hand against Geralt’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest, tracing the medallion that hummed at his touch. His fingers tapped a rhythm onto it. A melody was at the tip of his tongue, but couldn’t fully form. He wished he could sing for Geralt now. He wished he could do anything to make sure Geralt would stay with him forever.

“Don’t leave me, Geralt,” he whispered and meant more than such simple words could say. “Don’t ever go. I can’t lose you. Don’t make me lose you.” His words came from deep inside his soul and yet, they somehow felt like someone else’s words, like an echo of something he had heard before.

Geralt was still out. But he would survive. He had to. But in case he didn’t…

“I love you, Geralt.” He tilted his head forward, his lips meeting a scarred cheek. His fingers came up caressing the scar as if it could take away the pain that had caused it.

He wished Geralt could somehow feel his touch and know that he wasn’t alone.

“J’skr.”

Dandy’s whole body tensed when Geralt let out the garbed sound.

“Geralt?” he urged him.

Geralt let out a long sigh and beneath his fingers, Dandy could feel Geralt’s face stretch into a faint smile.

“Jaskier…” Even in his sleep and with the pain that must still be racing through Geralt’s body, his voice sounded unbearably warm and fond.

“I’m here,” Dandy said, caressing his cheek. “I’m-“

He froze. It hadn’t been his name. Jaskier. For a brief, beautiful moment he had been so sure Geralt had spoken his own name.

Bitterness welled up in Dandy. Of course he had been foolish enough to think such a thing. How could he not imagine Geralt saying his name in that tone? It had been what he had dreamed about for months. Sometimes he had even let himself think he could have this, could have Geralt.

But now…

He gave a weak smile. A mask. An act.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “You’re not alone.”

But Jaskier wasn’t here. Geralt was calling out for someone who didn’t sit by his bedside, who couldn’t stroke Geralt’s hair, who couldn’t coax him back to wakefulness. All Geralt had was Dandy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I could be more.”

He swallowed, starting to pull his hand away, when Geralt started mumbling again. Dandy had to strain his ear to understand what he was saying.

“Love you…Jaskier.”

Dandy squeezed his eyes shut. He had known. Long before now. The way Geralt sometimes spoke about his friend, never even mentioning his name out of the pain it would bring. Of course Dandy had known that Geralt loved his friend, his Jaskier.

It was different hearing him say it like this.

What was even worse, was what followed the next hours. Dandy didn’t leave Geralt’s side for a single moment. He spoke to him softly, caressed his hair in comfort and held his hand. Above all, he let his own heart break, listening to Geralt cry out for Jaskier, begging his long lost love not to leave him, to come back to him, to live again.

He listened to Geralt live through Jaskier’s death again.

“I wish you didn’t have to go through that,” Dandy said softly, his voice thick with all the tears that had already dried up. “I wish you never have to go through that again.”

Maybe if he wished hard enough, it would come true. But even a dreamer like him knew that wishes spoken aloud were nothing but wasted breath. For now, Dandy could do nothing but listen to Geralt relive a nightmare and know that no amount of wishing would bring Jaskier back or undo what had already happened.

[everything-makes-me-anxious]

My Five Favorite Chilling Tales of Holmes

Given how shocking, dreadful and unbelievable actual crime was in Victorian England, it's a testament to Conan Doyle’s desire to make a mark with Holmes that he did not fashion his stories after the horrible crimes happening around him.

No, Conan Doyle eschewed rehashing the stories of real life murderous doctors, spurned lovers poisoning wives of married men, rampaging tramps committing mass murders of families, and grudge-carrying servants in favor of mostly tame stories of crime (blackmail and theft of inheritances probably being the most common in his tales).

I say "mostly" because he did write some ghastly cases for Holmes to solve. The Hound of the Baskervilles alone would be enough to secure Conan Doyle's name as an author capable of writing great fantastical horror.

But he didn't stop there. Here's my top five favorite tales of chilling crimes that Holmes has ever had to face:

THE CARDBOARD BOX

I can barely bring myself to read this one when I reread the stories. It is not only horrifying -- an elderly woman receiving a pair of severed ears anonymously by post -- but the truth behind the crime speaks to the utter misery that humans can and do render unto others. We see Jim Browner's happily married life crumble to pieces by the connivances of an infatuated sister in law, whose introduction of another man to her sister is the beginning point of so much tragedy. Alcohol abuse, loss of love, affairs, and a terrifying chase scene and death. All because one woman hated her brother in law for not loving her. It is a fine examination of the things we're willing to do to each other out of our own misery, to make others feel as miserable, but by God is it a terrifying and vivid tale.

THE RETIRED COLOURMAN

Probably second only to The Norwood Builder when it comes to stories that feature the creepy things a spurned man will do, this story is almost too much to bear. Most of the stories in The Casebook are unbearable, but that's another matter (and an opinion for another time). For any true crime buff it may ring eerily familiar to spousal homicide cases within the past fifty years. And yet the advanced and almost ingenious double homicide took place well before the stuff Forensic Files loved to pick apart. The fact that you are not certain until the very end that the pair have been murdered (and not just locked up or escaped) is unnerving, and the way in which we find out makes it all the worse: Holmes bluntly asks Amberley, "Where are the bodies?" Everything the murderer does marks him a very cold, diabolical person who is perhaps the third most dangerous man Holmes had the displeasure of tangling with. Then there’s the thought that this man is 60 years old.. someone that old doesn’t begin his criminal career with such a huge and almost perfect crime. What other crimes has he committed?

THE DANCING MEN

Along with “The Five Orange Pips”, this is one of those tragic tales where the client is done to death before Holmes can take any action. However, the tragedy of the wife’s past -- which she so desperately tried to put behind her -- catching up to her AND her husband, leaving her shot in the damn head and widowed is just so much more horrible to me than the events of “The Five Orange Pips”. Holmes was so close to the end, too, to the point that if he had finished his work just a few hours sooner, he may have saved a life. Just because the woman was the daughter of a mob boss and attracted the affections of a thug, she is unable to start a life where all of that is put behind her. The past catches up with an innocent woman, getting her injured and her husband murdered. All because some thug refused to leave her alone. It’s creepy. It’s also plausible and has happened before (with less drama perhaps, and no ciphers).

LADY FRANCES CARFAX

My god. What about this story isn’t gruesome and terrifying? Just imagine you’re an unmarried woman vacationing in a foreign country, and a couple of criminals take a shine to you because you happen to wear an expensive necklace. Next thing you know, after being charmed and delighted by these seemingly good-natured religious folk, they kidnap you back to your home country, gassing you with chloroform all the while, steal all your valuable jewelry (which is all you have to your name) and then stuff your nearly-gassed-to-death body in a coffin, on top of an actual dead person, in order to be buried alive. Jesus Christ. The ineptitude of Scotland Yard was almost fatal this time, as the warrant didn’t come until the woman was practically in the ground, and Watson could barely resuscitate her upon getting her out. Whether in real life or the pages of these stories, I’d hate to be at the mercy of Victorian-era Scotland Yard (Abberline was an insufferable buffoon).

THE CROOKED MAN

Another one to go under the heading “tales that exhibit how shitty the human race is”. It’s another more tragic-than-chilling tale like The Dancing Men, but I find it horrifying all the same. The crooked man in question had his sweetheart and all hopes for a normal future snatched away by the most cunning, cowardly and disgusting excuse of a fellow soldier (!) who betrayed him into a trap in order to get with his sweetheart. Pretty messed up. However you feel about colonialism, this guy spent years being beaten and tortured until his body became deformed, and tried many times to escape unsuccessfully. In Victorian England, a man so deformed as to be stooped over and one who isn’t elderly enough to explain such a posture would be considered a freak and wouldn’t be able to live normally in society. And thus it was for him. He lived a quiet life far away from anyone who might recognize him, and made the only living he could with his exotic pet and snake. All this, just because he was in love and loved by a woman that a fellow soldier of his wanted for himself. And that man got her. She married him, and was married to him, ignorant of his treachery, for thirty freaking years. Imagine being married to such a scoundrel, a man you didn’t even see yourself with and honestly pining for the man you thought long-dead, for so many years and not knowing he was the reason your lover was presumed KIA. Imagine having so many years of your life wasted with a despicable creature. And imagine not being able to be with the man you did love, upon finding him alive, because of the way society was back then. This story is so horrible and tragic.

Special mentions: The Bruce Partington Plans, for the terrifying things people will do for money, and The Devil’s Foot, which at least saw some vengeance.

[12timetraveler]

May You Always Be The Wild One (Parts 1 and 2)

Reader is kidnapped on a job gone wrong, and Hosea is prepared to burn all of Lemoyne to the ground if he has to in order to get her back.

Hosea/f!reader

CW: kidnapping, torture, attempted sexual assault, descriptions of violence

(I try not to be too graphic but please be advised that part one is quite dark.)

Hey all so this is a two part story I've done. Part 1 is all about the kidnapping and the rescue. Part 2 is all fluff and smut months after the event in part 1

Part 1 is posted here and part 2 is the chapter that immediately follows.

And in the morning when the sun comes up

And it brings you to your knees

May you always be the wild one

May you always be free

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a solid plan. Well of course it was, it was Hosea's plan. But the master con man had been conned. Or maybe you all had underestimated just how perverted the target was.

You and Hosea had spent the morning making yourself look rumpled and dirty. Hosea had been smearing some dirt on your cheek. You suggested, only half kidding, that you and he just step out of camp for a quick romp. That usually got you looking plenty disheveled. Your beloved had laughed and lamented that you were too short on time, but promised he’d take you out for a night after this job was over.

Once you looked perfectly exhausted, skirt dirty, hair ruffled, like you’d been tossed from your horse and walking all night, Arthur had taken you out to the road, about a mile down from the target’s house.

“Alright. You start walking, and I’ll join the others near the house. Hosea says the target always spends his mornings on the front porch. Once you get him away from the house, we’ll be in and out. Mrs. Adler is waiting for you in Rhodes to take you back to camp so you’ll be long gone from town before he even gets back home to see he’s been robbed. Even if he does realize you were in on it, he won’t find you.”

“Understood,” you said as you slid off the back of his horse.

“Yeah, well even still, you got your gun?” He asked. You nodded and patted your thigh. Hidden under your skirts was a small pistol. Nothing special but it would protect you.

“You think I’m dumb enough to work a job without something to protect me?” You asked.

“No, s’pose not,” Arthur chuckled. “That and I doubt Hosea would have let you do this if he didn’t have some back up.”

Hosea trusted you completely, but he was far too wise to ever think that just because you were quick on your feet and good in a fight, that you’d be fine without some sort of weapon. As he was helping you get dressed this morning, Hosea had carefully strapped the little pistol to your thigh, planting a few sweet kisses around it before moving on to helping you lace your corset.

“Alright well, see you back in camp,” Arthur said, giving you a lazy salute.

“You boys stay safe,” you called.

“You’re the one who’s taking a ride with the man to town. You stay safe,” Arthur replied as he trotted off. You stood there for a minute, letting Arthur ride ahead of you before you started your walk down the road.

The Lemoyne sun was harsh, only just rising but already beating down on you. Within minutes you were sweating. You cursed Arthur for dropping you off so far away from the house, but your exhaustion would make your story more plausible, easier to act out.

By the time the house came into view, you were miserable. Thank god you had your hat to protect your face from the sun.

Just like Arthur had said, the man was sitting on his porch, sipping some coffee and watching the world start it’s day when you hobbled up.

“Good Mornin’ miss,” He called from his porch, looking you up and down as you rested against his fence.

“Howdy, Mister,” You sighed.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sitting up slightly as he took in your ragged state.

“I’ve been better, I’ll admit,” you said. “My horse spooked on the road during the night. I’m not sure if it was a snake or what. But he spooked and tossed me in the dirt and ran off. I’ve been walking for hours now.” You sighed.

“Can I give you a ride somewhere?” The man asked, standing up and downing his coffee.

“If it’s not too much trouble. My sister is waitin’ for me in Rhodes.” you said gratefully. The man nodded.

“Sure. I can get you there. Give me just a moment to hook up the wagon,” He said, stepping inside to put his mug away before heading out to the barn out back.

You glanced off into the trees near the house. You caught a glimpse of Arthur’s hat. You gave a small nod, letting him know it was all going to plan. A few minutes later the man came around the house, leading a black Tennesse Walker pulling a simple wagon.

“Alright, Miss, let's get you to town.” He said, helping you into the wagon before climbing into the driver's seat. With a flick of the reins, you were off. You slumped in the seat, happy to be off your feet.

“Name’s Dawson. Ephriam Dawson,” He said, reaching out to shake your hand.

“Tabitha Sanderson,” You said, using one of your aliases. You shook his hand

“Good Lord is it hot,” You sighed, fanning yourself. Dawson chuckled beside you.

“You ain’t from Lemoyne, are you?” He asked. You shook your head.

“No. I’m from West Elizabeth. Strawberry to be exact. It’s cool and wet and rainy there.”

“What’re you doing all the way down here?” He asked.

“My sister and I came to visit our sick aunt in Saint Denis,” You lied, thinking quick on your feet. “My sister went to Rhodes yesterday morning. I wanted to spend one last day with Aunt Susan before heading back, so I said I’d meet her in Rhodes last night.”

“Well, I’ll get you to your sister safe and sound, don’t you worry Miss,” He said.

The rest of the ride was pleasant, punctuated with idle chit-chat now and then. On occasion Dawson would point out a landmark or something he found interesting. You’d nod along and listen with fake interest. Dawson sat a little too close, in your opinion, but it was a small wagon, so maybe there just wasn’t room.

Finally the water tower of Rhodes’ train station peeked up over the hillside. You sighed in relief.

“I was starting to think I’d never get here. I would have been walking for hours yet without your help. Thank you,” You said, giving Dawson a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” Dawson said, tipping his hat. “Now, where is your sister waiting for you?” He asked.

“She should be at the general store. If not there, then maybe the Parlor House. If you just drop me off by the statue I can walk from there.” You said.

“Nonsense. I’ll make sure you and your sister are reunited.” Dawson said as the cart rode into town. Instead of parking near the butcher like you thought he would, he turned the cart up the hill, past the church.

“Sir, where are we going?” You asked, trying to keep your outlaw paranoia at bay. But something did not feel right.

“I’m just parking up here,” He assured you, pulling off just past the gallows. “It’s easier to get out of town if I park up here and walk,”

“Well, thank you very much for the ride Mr. Dawson,” you said, beginning to climb down from the wagon. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Just a moment, darlin’,” He said. “We still need to discuss my payment.”

“Oh, of course, how silly of me,” you said, reaching into your bag. You’d brought a little silver watch and a few bills to pay the man with, should he ask. You’d earn that back and more, if Hosea were right about the score. “I don’t have nearly enough to thank you for your help. But… here.” you said, pulling out the bills and the watch and handing it to Mr. Dawson before climbing down off the wagon.

“Thank you again, I really must be going,” You said as Dawson climbed down from the wagon. “My sister must be worried sick for me.” he came around the side of the wagon, and the glint in his eye made your heart drop.

“Hang on,” He said, “This isn’t the payment I was looking for,” He said, holding up the pocket watch and small stack of bills.

“I… I don’t have anything…” Before you could say another word, the man grabbed you and pressed you against the wagon, his lips slamming against yours. You struggled against him, trying to push him away. Finally his lips released yours, and he allowed you to push him a couple steps back.

“Sir!” you exclaimed, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I ain’t that kind of girl!” You said, scrubbing his saliva off your mouth. “I appreciate the assistance, but I really must be going,” You were stopped by his hand slamming into the wagon, blocking your exit.

“I don’t care what kind of girl you think you are,” He whispered dangerously. “The way I see it, I helped you with something you needed. Now you help me with something I need.” His other hand came down to his trousers, undoing the buttons. “You say you ain’t a whore, fine. I won’t use your cunt. But you’re gonna get on your knees for me and put that mouth to good use.”

You met his gaze a moment, weighing your options. Your pistol, though hidden conveniently on your person, wasn’t easy enough to reach so that you could do it before he did something to you. However, if you could get your skirt out of the way...

You gave him a defeated nod, pretending to concede. Very slowly, you did as he instructed, sliding down onto your knees. You adjusted your skirt underneath you under the pretense of getting comfortable, then looked up at Mr. Dawson looming over you.

He gave you a wicked smile, and patted your head. He moved to pull out his cock, but before he could, you’d reached under your skirt and retrieved the pistol from your garter, cocking it and aiming for his manhood.

“Sorry mister, I think you have me misunderstood,” you said, standing once more, gun rising with you until it was pointed at his chest. “I won’t be doing anything with your disgusting prick. So you can either take the money and the watch and let me go, or lose something you can’t grow back.”

You and Mr. Dawson stood still a moment, staring each other down, waiting for the other to cave first. He never dropped his disgusting smile, and he still had a glimmer in his eye that you didn’t like one bit.

“On your way, mister,” You said, waving your gun slightly.

In the blink of an eye, he swung his arm up, grabbing the gun and forcing you to point it away from him. His other hand came up to your neck, slamming you back against the wagon and pushing the air from your windpipe. He slammed your wrist against the wagon a few times, until the gun fell to the ground.

You squirmed against him, trying to get your knee up into his crotch, find something of his you could bite, anything to get him off of you. But his grip on you was tight, and the hand on your neck was squeezing until spots danced across your vision.

“Little Jezebel,” Dawson cooed in your ear, “You’ve led the wrong man on. I’ll get what I want, just you wait.”

“Sadie!” You screamed, desperately hoping your voice would travel far enough. “Sa--” Dawson slammed your head against the wagon once more, and it all went black.

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Page Numbers

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of crime scenes, mentions of rape and sexual assault, murder. Just getting into the angst guys...

A/N: So I decided after like two people responded (thank you guys) to split the second part into two because it was so ridiculously long. You guys don’t even want to know how much I had to cut off this to end this at a place I felt comfortable. Rest assured, you’ll probably get the next part tomorrow. Remember to like, comment, reblog, message me, send me asks, and just do anything to feed my constant need for praise and attention from strangers. As always, thank you so much! I love you all and I hope you enjoy!

___

[Part One]

“I can never figure out if I like local cases more because I get to sleep in my own bed every night we work the case, or if they make me more uncomfortable because they’re so close to home.”

Rossi glanced at Morgan, who cast his eyes to the review mirror as he spoke. Reid sat in the back, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips as he read something on his phone.

The youngest member of the BAU team had been uncharacteristically chipper over the last three weeks, constantly taking calls or responding to texts. Even when he started to ramble about something no one was really interested in listening to, the topics were about things that were of a happier nature. Things like a single grain of rice having five times more DNA than an entire human being has in their whole body, or that the term ‘nerd’ first showed up in print in the book, If I Ran the Zoo, by Dr. Seuss published in 1951.

He shoved the cell back into his pocket, looking up into Morgan’s eyes in the mirror. He knew that they knew that something was up, but he didn’t want to say anything until it got a little more serious. And it was rapidly going that way. Spencer had spent nearly every second of his free time with you, doing things like getting coffee or going back to the bookstore that just so happened to be forty minutes out of his way.

In fact, just last week you had come over to his house to have dinner and watch a movie. You begged him to watch The Princess Bride instead of some very obscure French movie that no normal person would actually own.

“I love all the new and intelligent things you show me, Spencer, but I want to show you a new and slightly less intelligent thing. Let me rub off on you for a change.”

You quoted the entire thing, your lips silently moving with every word spoken during the movie. Afterward, you confessed that you had read the book even more than you’d seen the movie and could probably quote it just as easily. He picked up a copy from the library this morning before coming into work. While he hadn’t had the chance to read it yet, or either of your own published works, he was determined to finish it before he saw you again.

It was only 493 pages, so it shouldn’t take him that long.

“What?” He blinked, his brows dipping dangerously close to those impossibly long lashes of his. Morgan looked back to the road, his own amusement twitching at his cheeks.

The car bumped over a dip in the road just before they pulled into the already packed driveway of the crime scene. Rossi shut the car off and Morgan pulled his sunglasses on before getting out of the car, but not without a teasing comment.

“Get your head in the game long enough to solve this case and you can go back to whatever has had your attention these last couple of weeks. Okay, kid?” The blush that colored his cheeks was the same shade as when he realized you were staring at him in awe that first time you met.

Inside, the mood of teasing and distractedness changed. Everyone focused while crime scene techs circled the room taking pictures and gathering every bit of tangible evidence they could possibly find.

The first victim, or by the looks of things, the last victim, was a male in his early to mid-forties. His salt and pepper hair was combed back and styled, his beard perfectly trimmed. Even in death his clothes were unrumpled, only the pool of blood-soaked into his khaki pants and maroon shirt ruined the look of an otherwise very put-together man.

He was slouched in a wooden chair pulled into the living room from the dining room table, his hands bound behind his back with three blue zip ties, his ankles bound to the legs of the chair exactly the same way.

“The victim is forty-four year old, Joseph Kyle. He’s a lawyer with Kyle & Anderson. Cause of death appears to be two gunshot wounds to the chest.”

The next victim was a woman. She wasn’t as put together as her husband, laying in a pool of her own blood on the kitchen floor. Bruises and cuts littered her arms and legs, massive handprints still marred the skin around her biceps. It went without asking that she had been sexually assaulted, her underwear hanging on the knob of a drawer and her skirt bunched around the top of her thighs.

“Synthia Kyle, forty. Stay at home mom. She was stabbed sixty-one times in the abdomen, chest, and thighs.”

The last three victims were children. Each in their own rooms, each tucked into bed and shot in the head execution-style. One look around the room and anyone would know that they were happy kids, smart and well-rounded, and loved.

“James, Massey, and Devan Kyle. Seventeen, fifteen, and ten. All shot in the head.”

For all the evidence that could be seen with their eyes; the brutal attack against the mother, the cold killing of the father, and the remorseful executions of the children, it shouldn’t have been so hard to form a profile.

“And where is the number?” Reid turned his whole body away from the little boy's room, the image of him lying in bed with his eyes closed and a bullet hole in his head was enough to turn the pits of his stomach against him.

The lead detective, a slight man with inky black curls and piercing blue eyes, led them into the dining room. The number ‘302’ was smeared across a painting hanging on the wall, the blood so thickly layered over the Botecelli copy that is dripped down and over the golden frame.

“At first glance, it would appear to be a family annihilator. His primary goal being the rape and torture of Synthia Kyle, and the rest of the family simply casualties of his rage, but just like the last three crimes, there is nothing even remotely similar in victimology or the killings.” Reid’s lips skewed to the side, crossing his arms and combing over every detail.

“Alison Crane was sexually assaulted as well.” Morgan offered the information up with skepticism, aware that, besides the numbers at every crime scene, it was the only thing that could be pulled from the two. Rossi shook his head, his eyes scanning the air as he thought.

“Alison Crane was kidnapped and beaten before she was found three days later on the Chesapeake Bay. Her wrists slashed. She was staged with remorse, a-a cloth laid over her eyes and her arms crossed over her chest. That couldn’t have been done by the same unsub.” Rossi looked over at Morgan because even still, they knew that it was the same guy because cut into the top of Alison’s arm had been the number nineteen.

It had taken Reid all of two seconds to realize they were page numbers when he’d seen the piece of paper that had been pinned to the second victim’s chest. Obviously torn from a book, the triangle scrap of paper had only had the number 85 printed on it.

And just as difficult as it had been to pin down a book during the Fisher King case, it felt as if it was ten thousand times harder to find the book being used now. All they had were page numbers and murders. They’d narrowed the list to crime novels, but there were still so many books on the list that even with Reid, it would take years to sift through them all.

Garcia has been sad to watch the young doctor leave her office in disappointment when she revealed her ability to narrow down books was still no good. Not that it was her fault since the lack of a central database for every book known to man, made it very frustrating for anyone that tried to narrow down a book based only on crime scenes. And this was still given the assumption that this book was actually published and not a story the unsub had written himself.

This would be the third homicide in this case, the first one done since the FBI had been asked to assist the DCPD. The crossing of victimology and the numbers on the victims had been enough for unit chief, Hugh Lowe to pick up his phone and request for the BAU to stop this man.

Other than the book revelation, and the geographical profile that Reid had come up with, there wasn’t much progress. It had only been two weeks since the death of the first victim and now their unsub’s body count had gone from two to seven.

A young woman kidnapped outside her dorm in Georgetown, held hostage, beaten, and raped for three days, then staged at the Chesapeake Bay with her wrists slashed and clean clothes on.

An older man was beaten in his home while his wife is away on business overseas, killed with a tire iron to the back of his head, stripped of his clothes, which sat folded beside his splayed out body, his ring finger cut off. His wedding ring had been on the clothes beside him but they couldn’t find the finger.

And now a family of five.

It was frustrating, to say the least, each agent so annoyed by the case that none of them spoke on the ride back to the BAU.

“So I don’t have the book, mon ami, but I do have a possible connection in victimology and a shortlist of possible suspects, or at the very least persons of interest,” Garcia said excitedly when all three glowering men came through the clear doors of the BAU. They each lifted their heads and eyebrows with piqued curiosity.

“My link is Georgetown. Alison was going there for a major in political science, Mr. Walters had been a chemistry teacher there before the death of his first wife ten years ago, and I just found out that our newest victims, Synthia and Joseph, met there in the spring of ‘88 as a senior and a freshman.” Garcia had to admit that their minds were quick to gather the information, turning it over in the cogs that constantly spin inside their brains, but her mind was faster.

“Did you-“

“Cross-reference Georgetown alumni with a list of crime novelists? And then cross-reference that list with people who lived in Spence’s comfort zone? ‘How did you know to do that Garcia?’ you may ask. Because I’m a genius. Quick, boys, follow me.” Her heels click in rapid succession as she leads the men into her office of computers, colorful do-dads, and pictures. When she takes a seat, Morgan leans directly over her shoulder, Reid standing just behind her, and Rossi stands just to the side of him.

The list that pops up is only four names, the tension that has been in all of their shoulders relaxes a little at the first stride in the case that they’ve made sense they started working it. Reid’s shoulders tense up again when he notices a familiar name that sits at the bottom of the list.

“This one, click on it.” He points to the line at the end and watches as Garcia moves her mouse over to the area he was pointing to and clicks to reveal a face he knows too well.

You smile back at him in your freshman year Georgetown photo, a set of bangs cut that you don’t have anymore. In the picture you seem impossibly young, your eyes full of excitement, although he knows that you aren’t that much younger than he is. Even still, for some reason, he half expects your smile to be missing teeth you seem so young.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), graduated from Georgetown in 2000 with a master's in criminology. She’s published two crime novels in the last two years. She doesn’t have too much of an eventful life; she isn’t married, has no children, pays all of her bills on time, has no detectable significant other. Mom is a detective with the Atlanta PD, Dad walked out before she was born, no siblings, nothing more than a couple speeding tickets against her.” Rossi pulls one of his hands from his folded arms, pointing at the picture with squinted eyes.

“I met her last year, very briefly, at a publishing party. We couldn’t have talked for more than ten seconds, but she seemed like a good kid. You think she’s our unsub?” Everyone looks to Reid, his expression is stone cold and unreadable.

Garcia almost wishes she hadn’t made the connection in the first place as she watches the muscle in his jaw tick, his eyes flying across the screen several times before he turned away from the group’s prying eyes. Nerves of a whole other kind had exploded inside him, forcing his hands to open and close like fluttering butterfly wings at his sides.

“I’m not sure. Just call her in for questioning.” He wants to say he doesn’t think it’s you, mostly because he doesn’t want it to be you. The thought that he could have invited a serial killer of this magnitude into his life, into the life of his team, it makes him even more nauseated than he had been earlier standing in the middle of a messy crime scene.

But when he runs to the library and finds both copies of your books, flipping to pages nineteen, eighty-five, and three hundred and two, he almost cries. On each page reads a word for word, detailed description of every murder that had happened in this case so far. The first girl even had the same name as the first victim.

By the time you make it to the BAU and you are escorted to the interrogation room, he’s read both books cover to cover. He keeps telling himself that there’s a chance you weren’t doing this, that you weren’t the killer, but it’s so hard to believe when you were the mind behind every murder.

As he looks at you from behind the one-way window pane, a mixture of anger and, strangely, hope has begun to swirl around his chest.

“You sure you don’t want to come in with me?” Prentiss says, looking back at the doctor as she reaches for the door. Spencer shakes his head, lips pursed and heart racing. He couldn’t go in their unbiased, willing to accept that you could be the unsub he’d been chasing for the last two weeks.

“Hi, I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the BAU, nice to meet you, (Y/N).” She stretches her hand across the table and you return in kind, your shy smile stabbing into Reid’s heart like a knife.

“I’d like to say it is nice to meet you too, but I wish it were under other circumstances.” The chair across from you screeches on the floor as Emily pulls it out to sit in. She absentmindedly flicks her slick black hair over her shoulder before laying the files in front of her.

“Unfortunately, I’m always under circumstances like these, working at the BAU.”

“‘Bad guys don’t take days off,’ that’s what my mom used to say,” You glance at the file on the table, chewing the inside of your cheek like you were trying to keep yourself from saying anything more, “I was told I was needed to give my opinion on a case? Although, I’m not sure how I could be of much help. I just write.”

Spencer watches you push a piece of your hair behind your ear with a small chuckle, glancing at the window like you could see him behind it.

“You’re a published author of two books, not just any writer.” Prentiss is relaxed, letting the case file sit between you like a hook dangling between a fish and a fisherman. You keep looking down at it, curiosity eating away at your nerves the way it used to when your mother came home with a new case.

“Tell that to my mom, she’s still holding out on me joining law enforcement.” It’s a joke, but every profiler watching reads into it. It isn’t hard to fit it into a working profile, the unsub feels unappreciated in her skills as an author with the apparent disapproval her mother has over her career. To both appease her mother and stake her claim as a serious author, the unsub is killing the same way she’s written in her books.

“Why didn’t you? Join law enforcement, I mean. You’re obviously very intelligent, you had a masters from Georgetown at just seventeen, and you seem to have a pretty good grasp on the politics and procedures of law enforcement careers.” For just a moment, you consider the question and your answer to it, but Spencer can see the exact moment that it clicks in your mind on what exactly is going on.

Your entire body language changes; your shoulders curling in toward your body, the chewing of your cheek intensifying, your hands pulling back from their relaxed position on the table and tangling themselves into your lap.

“I’m not here as a possible expert witness, am I, Agent Prentiss?”

Emily responds by opening the file, at last, pushing the pictures of the crime scenes across the table for you to have a look at. Seven pictures splay out in front of you and it doesn’t take you long to register the familiarity behind them all. You have to swallow the bile in your mouth before you speak again.

“I’m a suspect.”

“You’re the only suspect.”