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psychic-pigeons · 2 days

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hey if you write a pattern for the chilchuck amigurumi I will buy it instantly

ive gotten multiple asks about this, so ill just answer them all here in one go.

i wrote down everything while i was working on it, but i theres some stuff that i would do diffrently and i also didnt take a lot of process pics so it wont be a full proper pattern for those reasons, but ill add all that i have under the cut!

i dont want any compensation, but if you wanna do me a favor you can donate to esims for gaza, unrwa, any of these gefundme's, or another trusted charity of your choice.

now to the pattern! i would love to see the results of anyone making a squeakychuck, feel free to tag or dm me :)

the dimensions of this depend on the size of ur squeaker and yarn, i had a 4ish cm squeaker and somewhat thick 4/8 cotton yarn (kinda 6/8ish thickness). depending on ur yarn and squeaker u might need to follow a different pattern for the body.

if youre using a different body base pattern, the tunic and blouse pattern are pretty easily adjustable. ill add some notes for that at those sections of the pattern. ill also link some videos i used at relevant sections.

if theres an Action store near where u live, see pic below for the yarn i used for the skin, reddish brown, black and light brown. i got 3 of these but 2 packs was enough. the dark brown and creme were from my stash. i also got the squeaker from a donut dog toy from Action.

abreviations list (all in us terms):

mr = magic ring sc = single crochet hdc = half dubble crochet slst = slipstitch ch = chain bobble = 5 double crochet in one stitch BLO = back loop only FLO = front loop only

what you need:

-skin color of choice yarn -creme/white yarn (normal for body, thin for blouse) -greyish creme (for boot flaps) -black yarn -dark brown yarn -light brown yarn -reddish brown yarn -green yarn -4 tiny buttons (for arm joints) -cardboard (for shoe sole -3.5mm hook -squeaker -needlefelt needle -stuffing -stitchmarker (optional, i always mark the first stitch of the round)

once again disclaimer, this is not a propper pattern, this is just what i wrote down while i was crochetting. it may not nessecarily be the best way to do it. i wanted most clothes to be removable, but you have to partially disassemble the doll if you want to remove them. if you dont like how something looks or works ur free to do whatever you want. big fan of fucking around and finding out personally.

if you have any questions feel free to dm me, might take me a while to reply though.

SQUEAKY CHUCK PATTERN 3.5mm hook

head (skin)

r1: sc 6 in mr r2: (inc) x6 r3: (sc 1, inc) x6 r4: (sc 2, inc) x6 r5: (sc3, inc) x6 r6: (sc4, inc) x6 r7: (sc 5, inc) x6 r8-15 : sc 42 r16: (sc 5, dec) x6 r17: (sc 4, dec) x6 r18: (sc3, dec) x6 r19: (sc2, dec) x6 r20: (sc 1, dec) x6 r21: sc 12 slst, fasten off

ears x2 (skin)

r1: sc6 in mc r2: (inc) x6 r3: (sc, inc) x6 r4-6: sc 18 r7: dec 9. slst fatsen off.

Body - leg up (skin, black, thick creme)

start with skin

r1: ch 6, inc in 2nd, sc 3, 4inc, sc 3, inc r2: inc 2, sc 3, inc 4, sc 3, inc 2 r3: inc 3, sc 5, inc 6, sc 5, inc 3 r4: BLO sc in all r5: sc 3, dec 2, sc 3, dec 2, sc 6, dec 2, sc 3, dec 2, sc 3 r6: sc 1, dec, sc 4, dec 6, sc 4, dec, sc 1. r7: sc 6, dec 3, sc 6 stuff -r8 dec, sc in all

change color to black [color change video]

r9-23: sc in all 1st leg: fasten off

2nd leg [joining legs video]:

r24: sc7, ch 1, sc join in 1st leg after last sc, sc13, sc1 in visible v loop of ch1, sc 7 r25: sc7, sc 1 in remaining v loop of ch1, sc21 r26-31: sc 28 r32: sc 7, change color to creme/white, slst 1, sc 20 r33-35: sc 29 r36: (sc 8, dec) x3 r37: (sc7, dec) x3 r38: (sc6, dec)x3 add squeaker r39: sc21 r40: (sc 5, dec) x3 r41-42: sc18 r43: (sc 1, dec) x6 fasten off

Arms (skin, dark brown)

i made the arms movable with button joints, but after looking at some videos i discovered that what i did is not called a button joint and i dont have a video explaining it, so i hope this drawing helps.

the red bits are the buttons inside of the arms and body, and the thread (blue for clarity, i matched it w the skin) should be pulled tight and finished off with a double or tripple knot inside the body.

or you could just sew on the arms that also works. but wait with doing that until youve finished the blouse as the hands dont fit through the sleeves. i have a seperate section on assembly at the end of the pattern.

start with skin

r1:sc6 in mc r2: inc x6 r3(sc, inc)x6 r4 : sc 18

change color to brown

r5: sc 18 1st arm r6: sc 3, bobble, sc 14. 2nd arm r6.2: sc 14, boble, sc 3 [i matched the top loop to the bobble color but i think it would look better if u didnt] r7: sc 18 r8: (sc 4, dec)x3 r9: (sc 3, dec)x3 r10 sc12

color switch to skin (you might want to do this a round earlier, i didnt initially plan on making the gloves flared, and this color change part can sometimes be seen and look kinda weird)

r11-14: sc 12 r15: (sc4, dec)x2 r16-19 : sc 10 r20: (sc3, dec)x2 r21: sc8 insert button joint r28: (sc2, dec)x2 slst, sew shut

glove flare (dark brown)

r1: ch 15, slst join LONG TAIL r2: (sc4, inc)x3 r3: sc4, inc, sc8, inc, sc 4 r4: sc 2, slst fasten off sew 2 rows below thumb bobble

boots (light brown, dark brown, greyish creme) [video]

these are removable but they dont go on easily, so you gotta patiently massage the feet in there.

start with light brown

ch 7, start in 2nd from hook: r1: sc 5, 3inc, sc 4, inc r2: inc, sc 4, inc 3, sc 4, inc 2 r3: inc, sc 5, hdc inc 7, sc 5, inc 2 r4: slst fasten off. sew in holes/tails, fray ends for flat gluejob. trace onto cardboard for sole.

switch color to dark brown

r1: BLO join slst, BLO sc in all r2-3: sc in all glue in sole r4: sc 8, dec 5, sc 12 r5: sc 7, dec 4, sc 10 r6: sc7, dec2, sc 10 r7-10: sc in all

switch color to greyish creme

r11-12: sc in all r13: slst, FLO sc in all r14-16: sc all slst fasten off

flip the greyish creme flap over.

blouse (thinner creme)

this is a standard raglan pattern, if you need the whole thing bigger/smaller you need to have more/less chains at the beginning. this change also carries over to the collar. the increases are evenly spaced for me, and unless your doll has a very broad chest this shouldnt have to change.

if the arms need more space you need to either add more rows to the r3-7 part and/or add more chains in r8 (this part should fit pretty sugg around the body)

i was experimenting a bit w using BLO to minimize the gap where the sleeve and body seperate (r8). it worked p good but you can ignore it if you dont understand it and just sc in all.

r1: ch24, slst join. r2: (sc 5, inc) x4 r3-7: inc in first of previous inc. last row should have 10 sc between increases. r8: sc5, blo sc 1, ch 5, blo sc join in 1st of next inc, sc 11, blo sc1, ch5, blo sc join in 1st st of next inc, sc 5 r9: sc6, blo sc 1, sc 5, blo sc1, sc11, blo sc 1, sc 5, blo sc 1, sc 6 r10-13: sc in all (36) r14: (sc8, inc)x4 r15: sc in all (40) slst finish off

Sleeve

r1: join mid armpit, slst ,sc2, sc in the leftover bits from the BLO stitches, sc 1, sc in leftover BLO bits, sc2 r2-6: sc in all

collar

join left-middle front, sc 7, inc, sc8, inc, sc 7. turn r2: sc7, inc, sc 10, inc, sc 7. turn r3: sc8, inc, sc 10, inc, sc 8. turn

cuffs

r1: join mid body-facing side, FLO sc 20 r2-4: sc 20, slst fatsen off

Tunic (red brown) [tunesian entrelac crochet]

if you want to make this bigger i recommend keeping the same square layout, but making the squares bigger. its a bit of measuring and math to figure it out.

the tunic is made in tunesian crochet and i dont really know what written patterns for that look like so i hope this makes sense.

for a single square:

r1: ch4, start in 2nd back bump from hook. pull up a loop from ever back bump. you should have 4 loops on your hook total. simplestitch in all r2-4: simplestitch in all. r5: slst in all. fasten off

for the slanted parts i did the decrease by pulling through the middle 2 loops in one go on the back pass

this is how the full thing should look, its worked from bottom left to top right.

sew together the shoulders together, then sew in all of the ends :) good luck

tunesian crochet has a tendancy to curl, so if you used cotton i def recommend blocking it

i defined the grid a little bit with a dark brown pencil.

cowl (green)

BLO sc 7, repeat till desired lenght, then BLO slst join the last row to the first.

scalp undercut bit (dark brown)

r1: sc 6 in mr r2: (inc) x6 r3: (sc 1, inc) x6 r4: (sc 2, inc) x6 r5: (sc3, inc) x6 r6: (sc 4, inc)x6 r7: sc36

sew on back of the head (recommend doing this before the ears and face, see end for more detailed assembly instructions)

hair (reddish brown) [hair video]

disclaimer, this is kind of a mess. the lenghts didnt line up the way i intended so i improvised by adding loose strands and spent a lot of time pinning every strand in place before glueing them down.

i used bison kit contact glue since its sturdy, transparant, flexible and waterproof. you can use hot glue as well, i just personally dont like it because its bulky.

r1: sc 21 in mc. join BLO slst r2: ch 12, sc in 2nd from hook, gdc10, BLO slst join r3: ch 12, sc in 2nd from hook, gdc10, BLO slst join r4: ch13, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 11, BLO slst join r5: ch13, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 11, BLO slst join r6: ch 14, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 12, BLO slst join r7: ch16, sc in 2nd form hook, hdc 14, BLO slst join r8: ch 18, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 16, BLO slst join r9: ch 18, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 16, BLO slst join r10: ch 14, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 12, BLO slst join r11: ch 12, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 10, BLO slst join r12: ch 10, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 8, BLO slst join

from now on, join in the FLO's of previous round r13: ch10, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 8, FLO slst join r14: ch10, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 8 , FLO slst join r15: ch12, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 10 , FLO slst join r16: ch12, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 10 , FLO slst join r17: ch14, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 12 , FLO slst join r18: ch16, sc in 2nd form hook, hdc 14, FLO slst join r19: ch 18, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 16, FLO slst join r20: ch16, sc in 2nd form hook, hdc 14, FLO slst join r21: ch14, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 12 , FLO slst join

1x ch 6, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 4 2x ch8, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 6 2x ch 10, sc in 2nd from chain, hdc 8, slst in same, fasten off. 2x ch 12, sc in 2nd from chain, hdc 10, slst in same, fasten off. 3x ch14

pin all in place until it looks good, tie +glue loose strands first. then glue back pieces, crown, and lastly bangs/ top back layer. some of the lose strands go behind the ears, one is the left sideburn, and the rest is to cover up the crown. these pics are the best i can do as a guide, this was my first time doing this so i was struggling lol.

i didnt fully glue down the bangs and the top back layer bc i thought it would be fun if u could ruffle his hair, but my friend who i gave the plush to has significantly abused him (its been 2 days) and his hair is a mess so im gonna have to glue it down again lol. might as well do it all the first time if u plan on throwing him down the stairs or something.

Face

for eyes + eyebrows, embroider outline with dark brown, then needle felt [video] the inner parts w unraveled dark brown fluff. the dark brown i used was probably acrylic. cotton doesnt really work well for this.

Belt and pouch (dark brown)

the belt is a 3 strand basic friendship bracelet! [video]

sew together the ends and hide it with by sewing the pouch on top.

i didnt write down the pattern for the pouch, but from the top of my head its the same start as the squares for the tunic

r1-9: simple stitch in all r10: simple stitch 1, decrease by putting your hook through 2 vertical bars when pulling up a loop, simple stitch edge 1. r11: slst in all, finish with a long tail

use tail to sew together the sides, and sew the pouch onto the belt. use some yellow thread to make a button.

ASSEMBLY.

put on the blouse, put the arms in their place and finish the button joints.

put on the tunic, lace the sides with dark brown yarn, finish with a knot and hide the tails underneath the chest part of the tunic.

slide on the belt and boots.

sew the scalp undercut bit to the head

sew the ears to the head

tie + glue the loose hair strands behind the ears

glue the back of the hair

glue the middle circle part of the hair

glue the top back layer and bangs

sew the head to the body

put on the cowl

i hope this is somewhat clear, feel free to dm me is you have questions.

enjoy your squeakychuck :D

#ask #crochet #chilchuck #dungeon meshi #mine #talk #crochet pattern

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xoxo-sarah · 3 days

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Friendly

↝a/n: I'm just posting all my old fics in my notes app because I don't have any good ideas as of this moment.

↝pairing:Steve Harrington x reader

↝warning: angst, unrequited feelings, heartbreak, sad!reader, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own (character), or any character from (show, movie, etc.). I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 4.27.24

You shouldn't be here. You knew that, but you couldn't help yourself. The feelings you had for Steve were eating at you, keeping you up at night. All the time you spend together felt like torture when you thought back to them. The glanced you would spare him even though he wasn't looking. He was never looking, not like you were.

The laughing and jokes were friendly for him, something he also did with his other friends. It just felt different for you.

You tried to keep it to yourself, you really did. It just became too much. Your thoughts were overfilling your skull, spilling out of your tear ducts late at night, when you were alone in your room.

You knocked at the door before you could stop yourself.

Steve opened the door, his face turning into one of pure bewilderment. Before he could even say hello, your mouth was open, words spewing out of it like vomit.

"I know it's late but I couldn't go to sleep. I need to get something off my chest and I need you to just...listen."

Steve went to open him mouth but closed it when your eyes harshly shut, watching as you conjured up the guts.

"I love you and I need you to love me too. Tell me that your thoughts have been of me just like mine have been of you." But you didn't say that, 'cause that would be even more pathetic than showing up at his doorstep in the middle of the night.

"You make me feel wanted and needed in a way I haven't felt before, and that's too much for me to have as just a friend." Your eyes opened, staring at the way his hand flexed against the door he held open.

Steve stood, shell-shocked.

"Tell me that the times you made me feel seen were you just being friendly. Please-"

"Steve?"

A head of blonde hair walked behind Steve, smiling politely at you, hand moving across the extension of Steve's back.

Your breath caught in your throat.

She leaned up to whisper something in his ear. He finally moved his gaze from your pathetic silhouette. He looked at her, his jaw slack from your confession. An absentminded nod was enough for her to sway back to where she came from, leaving you two in silence.

How does one come back from this? It is humiliating.

Steve bit his lip, scratching at his forehead.

"Can we talk about this another time?"

This time, it was your turn to be gobsmacked. You felt as if your life couldn't get any sadder.

Without a word, you turned, not knowing what you were supposed to do after confessing your feelings like that. Tears fell down your face before you were out of his driveway.

You couldn't show your face anywhere he would be. There is no way in hell.

The old feeling in your chest that told you to cherish every moment with Steve- the one that told you to reach out to hold his hand- was now demolished and replaced with regret.

This whole thing is just humiliating.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

#xoxo-sarah 🩷#🕶️#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #Steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader

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sixosix · 1 day

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5k event request :P

Kazuha, light stick, and fluff please

a/n hi anon! when i saw light stick, i instantly interpreted it as those kpop light sticks,, im not sure if u meant something else like those glow sticks, so i am hoping this was what u meant HAHA

wc 700, idol!kazuha/fan!reader, im sure u guys have heard of the 6REEZE group somewhere, meet-cute; disclaimer i only know how auction works from my classmates roleplaying them so ignore accuracies for fic’s sake. bless.

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

Kazuha, to be frank, felt a little embarrassed.

His features stood out too much, his friends told him. To go out and enjoy the fresh air of the day, he had to not enjoy the fresh air with a face mask, conceal his red streak of hair by clipping it back and burying it under a cap, and wear green-tinted sunglasses (also to disguise the red of his eyes) that he was struggling to get used to.

In his defense, His friends weren’t any better. Aether’s braid could be recognized with only that, Venti’s glowing braids weren’t any better, Heizou’s shade of hair and green eyes would stand out—if not his unique voice, and everyone knew Xiao even if he were to shave all his hair off. Scaramouche could be salvageable, but one word from his mouth and his fans would fall to their knees—it could be his voice, but it would be the attitude.

Kazuha felt a little too hot with his disguise, but he wanted this, so he would go through with it. He tugged his mask under his nose, relaxing at the scent of the open air. The mall had an open area with trees all over; the leaves fell to the ground, and the wind brushed past. Kazuha couldn’t feel it, having been stuffed under layers, but he was satisfied.

Although it felt embarrassing to be clothed in this disguise, he couldn’t go outside this freely before. He was going to make the most of it.

And then he passed by a stall that had him doing a double take. Kazuha took a few steps back, lighting up with recognition. He couldn’t be mistaken, not with that familiar symbol of Anemo. The stall displayed a light stick of their group, released only a few days ago.

His friends would have a blast if he came back with it, most likely, Kazuha mused. Maybe he could bring it back as a gift.

A hand shot out from the side, blocking his view of the light stick. Kazuha blinked, a little surprised. He followed the arm's stretch and came face-to-face with an angry stranger.

“Hey, you!” you said. Kazuha felt like he needed to stand straighter at the tone. “I had my eye on this one first, ‘kay? Whatever number you have in mind—keep it. I finally get my hands on one of these; I’m not letting it go!”

“Oh, this was an auction?” he asked curiously. The stall didn’t seem to be being run by anyone at the moment, and no one else was there.

“Well, no,” you sniffed, “but I would win. I already told the seller I called dibs on this one—wait until she gets back.”

Charmed, Kazuha smiled. “Two thousand.”

“Three.”

“Three-thousand, five hundred?”

“Five-thousand, three hundred.”

Kazuha had to wonder: “How much do these usually cost?”

“Five thousand, if you’re lucky. I’ll make it ten thousand, easy. Are you still not backing down?”

Kazuha laughed under his breath. Were you serious? Were you actually willing to drop that much for this? “Alright, I cede. I apologize for attempting to defeat you.”

You grinned, eyes sparkling quite literally as your gaze slid back to the lightstick. You were very pretty. “Yeah, I thought so.” You eyed him curiously; Kazuha suddenly felt a little shy. “Are you a fan as well?”

Kazuha nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from your genuine smile for a few moments. His eyes drifted down to your shirt, which had the same Vision of the lightstick—but there was something else. “You could say that.”

Your shirt had maple leaves swirling around the logo, and Kazuha could recognize it all too well because he was asked to sit down and draw it for their merchandise—something personal for each member. Did Kazuha have the right to suspect what it meant that you were wearing his?

Emboldened, Kazuha gestured at the lightstick. “As a fellow enthusiast, may I extend my offer to cover this purchase?”

You blinked and stuttered. “W-What— You don’t have to! I literally stole it from you!”

“So you confess that you pried it off of me?” Kazuha teased.

“That’s not—Listen—” You stared at him, then got flustered. “Hold on, are you hitting on me?”

“Yes.” He took off his sunglasses and tugged down his mask, flashing a sweet smile that he knew was utterly unfair. Your face bluescreened out of pure shock. Without the mask muffling his voice, it was clear as day. “So, will you let me?”

#606: 5K EVENT #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x you

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 19 hours

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Simon Riley NSFW hcs ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Two lovely people asked for my NSFW Simon headcannons and I'm happy to provide!!

Just a disclaimer, these are my headcannons. If you have ones that are totally different, that's okay!

He's fictional and can be whatever you want him to be <3 (except a rapist. We don't do that here.)

If you have any COD thoughts or requests, my inbox is open!!

~ Fi 🐝

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I'm a soft!Simon truther until death.

There's not a single reality in which I can see him ever being too rough with you, let alone hurting you.

First of all, he has no fucking clue what he's doing. He's maybe had sex 2-3 times in his life and I don't think any of them were memorable or good.

I'd wager that all of them were hookups, encouraged by other soldiers to "let off steam". But Simon just can't do it, it feels so wrong. To give himself so fully to someone he doesn't even know.

There needs to be an emotional connection in order for him to feel comfortable and good. He needs to trust and love this person before he can do anything with them.

It's gonna take a while for him to open up, but once he does everything is smooth sailing.

(I also don't think he masturbated excessively. He probably jerked off, everyone gets horny, but especially if we say he's on antidepressants, his sex drive is pretty low. He's either too tired or just doesn't care)

Your first time together was fueled by a, not so uncommon, make-out session on his couch. It'd usually end with you grinding on his thigh or rubbing yourself over his clothed cock until you both reached a satisfactory end.

Simon thinks he could live an entire relationship with only sticking to dry humping, but in reality he's just terrified of the intimacy of real sex.

It's not too romantic, none of that rose petals lit candle stuff. It's not that Simon hates all of that, but I just think it'd be too much for the first time.

He's already so nervous (so are you probably if we're honest) and all that extra stuff would overwhelm the fuck out of him.

(He will spoil you with rose petals and candles another night, even if it just ends you with you falling asleep in eachother's arms <3)

Eventhough it's soft and sweet, you're both still very horny and basically rip the clothes off of the other.

Foreplay is important!!! (For all my girlies who don't drip down their thighs)

Not only for you but for him too. Even if he's rock hard already, he wants to enjoy himself, maybe be a tease. He will always make sure that you're okay and ready (and so will you bc he deserves it).

Would literally eat you out to calm himself down. He probably has fallen asleep while licking your pussy, it's his personal meditation.

Your taste, the way you feel on his tongue and the fact that he was two perfectly good pillows wrapped around his head made it easy for him to nod off.

Also, he prefers it hairy. (Fight me.) (pls don't)

I know it's cliche but he's like 2 seconds away from just coming inside of you the second he pushes in. Not only does he feel good but when he looks down he sees you and he could cry from how happy he is. He just loves you so much.

Can we please put the "You only take half of him" bullshit to rest??? Thank you. We all know Simon as BDE but let's keep it on the real side okay. He couldn't give less of a shit if you can take him to the hilt or not.

(Some gals physically can't bc if your vaginal canal is too short, then it's impossible. You don't want a bruised cervix, so don't be stupid) I do think when he's more comfortable about it and a little more desperate and rough, he'll play into the size kink.

He probably has a huge size kink anyway but he would never make you feel bad if you couldn't take all of him. (Especially if you're giving him head bc let's be real that thing is not going down no one's throat okay)

He has the prettiest moans. I JUST KNOW IT. they're more throaty and deep but they sound good. I honestly don't think this man is capable of whimpering (like physically. Not with that smoker lung) sorry babes.

Simon isn't too loud, but just enough to make you that much hotter. He will try to pull more moans out of you, like a little challenge for himself.

NONE OF THAT "10 rounds Riley" SHIT. (Have any of y'all ever had an orgasm before like?? Who the fuck is going ten rounds??? Not me that's for sure lmao) it really all depends on your guys' mood and neediness on that day.

I do think he can and wants to go a couple of rounds but it's probably more on the rare side and never more than 4.

He knocks out immediately. He's always tired anyways.

I think his favorite positions are missionary, prone bone, and cow girl. He likes the closeness, wants to feel every part of you and kiss it like his life depends on it.

The further you are into your relationship, the more new stuff you can try out. He's always gonna be hesitant at first but if it's not too out there he'll try it.

Simon will tell you if something is a hard no for him and he expects you to respect, just as he would for you.

Would 100% make you ride his face. Wants to he smothered in it okay. (Simon said sit, so sit.)

Simon would be down to tying you up (one condition; you're never tied to anything. In case of emergencies)

You won't get him to be tied up though, that's a real hard no.

I think the closest you'd get to a submissive Simon is if you order him around.

He's sitting on his knees before you and you tell him exactly what you want him to do (one thing Simon Riley can do is follow orders) and he'll pretend to let you be in control and maybe you are for a while, but deep down he's always in control (not necessarily sexual or possessively, he just needs the security)

He loves to get head (not as much as giving it tho) but he will never ever force his cock down your throat, even if you begged him.

He can't do it, won't do it. Has he had the urge and fantasies?? Sure, but it goes against everything he promised when you got into a relationship.

Sweetly suck on his tip and stroke the rest of his length and he's happy as a clam <3

His absolutely favorite thing is when you ride him in the morning. Just lazy and sloppy circles of your hips while you sit on top of him. He loves the sight.

Simon'll gently hold onto your hips and guide you if need be. It's even better if you're laying flush against his chest and the both of you are snuggled under the blanket.

Bonus; he loves to make-out with you. It's an unhealthy obsession that has led to too much lipgloss/lipstick ingested just bc the fucker couldn't wait 2 minutes for you to take it off.

Kissing you is his number 1 way to show you how much he loves you since words aren't his strong suit.

Needless to say, he's head over heels for you, and the sex is great. <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you lovelies enjoyed it!

More of my works --> 💫

#bumblebeesfromvenus #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost call of duty

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asarajaa · 3 days

Note

Hi Sarah! Love you hcs could you do some hcs about bonten rindou who's trying to get attention from the reader but the reader is busy?? Thank you love!!!

Hello sweetheart! Tysm!

Ofc! Here you have it 🤗 🤗 🤗

My boy rindou needs to be more drawn, like I only found one GOOD pic of him in Bonten for the banner 😩😭

Warnings: fem!reader, fluff Words: 963 Disclaimer: English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Rindou wanting attention hcs

₊˚ෆ Okay so one thing that I know is that Rindou is an attention seeker (just like his brother), don't ask me how I just know 🤷🏽‍♀️

₊˚ෆ He's the little brother after all, what else did you expect?

₊˚ෆ Plus, Ran doesn't help, really. Like I believe that Ran's Rindou's number one fan. I hc that when Rindou had a theater or smh like that at school Ran would be in the first line recording, clapping, screaming and just being Ran tbh.

₊˚ෆ At the start of your relationship with him he wouldn't show it, he's a 29 year old mafia man who is independant (his brother doesn't count), but as it progresses…

₊˚ෆ Look, when it comes to you, realistically, or he couldn't care less or he would lose his mind. Like he's a mafia man, I don't know what you expected.

₊˚ෆ If is the last option, the only Bonten member apart from him you'll know is his brother, no one else. This man is like a doberman, he'll protect you even if that's the last thing he'll do.

₊˚ෆ Ofc, Ran would do the same. You make his brother happy? He would protect you no matter what, just like Rindou would do it with his girl. There would be 4 persons in your marriage with Rindou; the two of you ofc and then Ran and his wife.

₊˚ෆ Because of this closeness, you and Ran's wife inevitably became friends, reaching the point of being like sisters who grew up together.

₊˚ෆ The only way for you to be Rindou's wife is if you knew him before everything. Here, the woman of the process was you and the woman to whom Rindou showed his teachings was also you. The same happens with Ran.

₊˚ෆ You'll meet each other in your high schooler years and stay with together since then, as the same happens with Rans wife, you girls practically grew up together.

₊˚ෆ When your husbands work, you would be going to Pilates class together, having brunches very frequently, planning playdates for your children (if you have them) and so on.

₊˚ෆ Basically you girls are maintained, at their insistence more than anything (because there is no way your husbands will let their wives do a single bit of work).

₊˚ෆ In this family of 4, visit each other was a tradition. Every Saturday, you went to each other's houses to have dinner.

₊˚ෆ Of course, when you see your bestie you forget about everything else. She's your bestie after all, you've got to tell each other tea when the spoon, the sugar and the cup weren't around. And if there's someone to blame, it's their fault.

₊˚ෆ Rindou didn't notice, just happy to see you happily talking with your best friend. He knows he is out very often, so he's glad you have someone to talk to.

₊˚ෆ But when the hours went by, and you're just talking with his brother and his wife, Rindou started to pout.

"What? You're seeing things, go check yourself for schizophrenia baby." he'll say every time you bring up the topic.

₊˚ෆ Rindou's an attention seeker and a semidirect one, like he'll give you a very direct hint about his feelings. He's a man, he's not ashamed about his feelings (to the most of them) and he's a "were not going to bed before we resolve our problem" type of guy.

₊˚ෆ He demonstrated this after a while.

You and Rans wife were happily talking in the living room, Ran doing some comments here and there but mostly of all you and her.

"–and the house must be clean! And that's literally what he told Asteria" she finished, leaning back to her husband’s arm again.

"No way!" you gasped in shock.

"I know, right? After all the things Asteria has done for him." she said letting out a sigh "He has the nerve to ask for more when she has done the impossible for him and for their family."

"Men these days." you denied with disappointment, getting supported by an assent and a 'yeah' for her part "Oh! How did I forget it? We have a present for you guys for your new pregnancy!" you revealed enthusiastic.

"Really? You guys didn't have to." said Ran.

"Nonsense, we gotta show our good wishes for the new future member." replied Rindou "It's in the car, we'll go for it, wait here." Rindou said standing up first, extending a hand to help you standing up.

As you guys were going to the garage, you felt a hand on your waist, pulling you closely to Rindous body.

"You know, you seem to enjoy the company of your best friend who you see almost every day more than the company of your husband, the one who is out very often." he said, giving you a squeeze on your waist while he took out the car keys with the other one.

"Ow, you want my attention? Is that what's going on?" you said teasing him, losing the warmth of his hand as he went to get the gift.

"Yes. I would be grateful, thank you." Rindou said directly, coming back with the gift (a very pretty baby cart that costed thousands) in his hands.

You chuckle as you were going to his side, hugging one of his arms and starting to tell him that it would be great to have another baby (or your first) so that It could be your best friends partner and thanks to that you could become family and- No, Rindou, our marriage is not enough, if our kids get married it would be like another different level.

Rindou, looking at you while you were daydreaming about some childhood best friend trope, wouldn't avoid the thought of-

Anything to see that smile in your face, my love.

₊˚ෆ Two month went by, and guess who's pregnant?

I love Rindou sm 😭💗

I hc that he would be very direct like he wouldn't have any drop of shame in his body.

omg it's currently 0:28 and I didn't make my masterlist yet 😩

Update: omg I’m so dumb, I just noticed that the request said that the reader was BUSY like doing smth and not having time 4 him like I didn’t finished reading the request– omg I’m so stupid 💀✋🏽

I’m so sorry, please send me a request saying if do you want me to change it or anything. I’m so sorry but it’s currently 1:57 and my brain is not braining 😭😭😭

So sorry baby :(

28/04/24

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #tokrev rindou #tr x reader #ran haitani #tokyo revengers ran #fanfiction #asarajas works (tokyo revengers)#asarajas works #i want to sleep #i'm so tired rn #please tell me you opn in the comments #fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #rindou headcanons #haitani brothers #haitani rindou x reader

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upontherisers · 3 days

Text

in the cold spring

a/n: i'm in a writing mood recently! disclaimer: i haven't read mota or on a wing and a prayer yet so i do not know anything about jack kidd's life beside what is available on the 100th bomb group's website, so consider some details ~exaggerated for dramatic effect~. title is from ml burch's "i feel like giving you things" and this fic is about neither the cold or the spring, but it fits.

Goddamn Air Exec.

Jack says goddamn Air Exec from the moment Bucky tells him that Hughlin recommended him, through two rounds of meetings with Harding—call me Chick—and Bowman—call me Red, through moving into the ops barracks, through shaking a thousand hands, and through getting a desk. Goddamn Air Exec. Goddamn Egan, goddamn Hughlin, and goddamn Air Exec.

His crew, his fort, and his dignity all because Bucky purposely flunked out of the tower. And Buck vouched for him! Goddamn Cleven and goddamn Air Exec. All of his training out the window for a desk in a corner office. He can’t even see the runway through the blinds, just the backroads of East Anglia and occasionally the Land Army girls and their cows. Five hundred hours of flight school for a desk in a corner office and a secretary.

“A secretary?” he asks as Harding points at a small station outside Jack’s newly-labeled office.

Chick nods. “Yes, Lieutenant Keene.” He looks around the busy floor, eventually settling on who he’s searching for. “There she is… Hazel!”

A head pops up from the mass of moving bodies and paper and a woman quickly makes her way across the room, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. As she approaches, she’s smiling with a brightness that goes all the way to her warm, round brown eyes, hand outstretched for another yet another handshake. Goddamn Air Exec, but he’s less bitter about it.

“Jack, I assume you’ve met Lieutenant Keene—”

“Hazel, I insist.” Her grip is firm and as warm as her eyes.

They met the few times when he had to go to Bucky’s office—his office now—and she was waiting at her station outside. He remembers her as polite but busy, inoffensively curt. Not one of the staff who blathers away, overly chipper and overly interested in the reason for his visit, but also not one of the ones who snaps at him to sit and wait and then ignores him like he’s the reason they’re losing the war. Hazel’s friendly and effective, a good temperament for a C.O. He wonders why she’s in here and not up in the air.

“Good to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Jack, I insist.”

Her smile widens just so, and he has a feeling that they’re going to work well together.

She turns to Chick and nods to where she came from. “Last of the after actions for the 418th—” Jack pretends that doesn't hurt to hear. He should’ve been up there with his boys. Goddamn Air Exec. “—I’ll have ‘em to Sheila in fifteen, and I’ll be at my desk after that, in case you need anythin’.”

It takes him a moment to realize she’s speaking to him, and he mumbles an ‘of course’ at his shoes. He’s a man who gets waited on now; it would take some time to get used to. She departs with another smile and heads back into the fray.

As Chick leads Jack around the rest of the space, showing him charts and maps and a million other semi-familiar faces, he remains acutely aware of Hazel. She’s speaking to a WAC as they go over some maps, marking here and there, her encouraging smile no doubt prompting stellar work from the younger girl. He’s reminded of Ev, the way his friend’s genial countenance can turn a boring day kicking around the hard stand into a respite and a rough flight home from a mission into a night at a comedy club.

Then he misses his friends—Ev, Dougie, Crosby and the man the navigator has become since getting kicked off of the Crash Wagon. He misses hearing DeMarco and Cleven bicker as they climb into their fort, that damn dog never far behind as Lemmons likes to sneak him out onto the hard stand. He misses the feeling of sitting in his seat and the controls roaring to life under his fingers as he hears his crew get ready at their guns. He misses looking out the window to see Ginny settling into her cockpit to his right, grinning like it’s Christmas morning and popping her gum into her headset receiver to set off Knick Knack at her navigator’s seat.

He even misses Bucky and his plane-to-plane chatter, always vigilant, always watching out for his squadron, his group, and the rest of the wing. He misses the man Bucky can be in the air as opposed to the faux-apologetic fast-talker that landed Jack at a desk in the first place. Goddamn Air Exec.

But then he comes back to Hazel and the scrunch of her nose as she stretches her arms above her head with a yawn. She slumps back onto the desk she’s sitting on, looking around the room curiously before meeting Jack’s eyes and nodding. He nods back before Chick drags him off to some new wonder.

She’s at her desk in fifteen minutes like she told him she would be and sticks her head into his office with a smile. She smiles a lot. “I’m back. Holler if you need anything.”

By the time he can look up from the file he’s puzzling over, she breezes back to her desk and immediately busies herself at her typewriter.

He doesn’t know what to do with her. The other C.O.’s have their secretaries do the standard—take memos, keep their schedules, make coffees—but that seems insulting. She’s here to win a war; he wasn’t going to send her scrambling for sugar. On the other hand, it’s insulting not to utilize her, as sharp and reliable as she is. His father would find her a task and a ring, which he had with his last three secretaries. Jack had no intention of using his rank like that. He’ll find something for Hazel to do. It just has to be the right thing.

And he searches for too long, it seems, because after three days of greeting her when he arrives in the morning and occasionally asking her where certain stationery was stored, she steps into his office post-lunch and plops down in the chair in front of his desk with a sigh. Her eyebrows raise and she wears a bemused smile as she folds her hands in her lap. She reminds him of Bucky for a moment.

“Was it something I said?”

He shakes his head. He’d been hoping she wouldn’t notice his lack of engagement, or perhaps would lean into not having much on her plate. “I’ve never had a secretary before.”

“Most men haven’t.” She leans forward and starts picking at a chip in the wood of his desk. “Your job is my job, too.”

“You seem busy enough.” She does. Every time he looks out into the hall, she’s up to something, whether it’s at her desk, in the filing cabinets along the walls behind her, or somewhere on the ops floor. She knows what she’s doing; he’s the one who’s lost.

Her mouth purses. “Not for long. I’ll be done with the backlog Bucky left by EOD.”

“I’m sorry he left so much—”

Her exaggerated eye roll surprises him. “That’s the point, Jack. It’s too much work for any one man.”

Goddamn Air Exec.

“But that’s why you got me. We’re a team… so,” she raps his desk twice, “put me in, Coach.”

He wants to say something, to have an important Air Exec order or some example for her to follow, but as he looks into her expectant face, he comes up short. He hasn’t eaten yet today, but he’d shoot himself in the foot before he ever made her go to the mess for him. She reads him like a book, which only further rankles his sense of command.

“Well, what’s all this?” She spreads her hands over the papers in front of her.

“Interrogation logs, new crew files—” He points at a pile Chick’s aide had delivered that morning. “I need to get those back to Harding as soon as I sign them.”

“Sign ‘em now and I’ll run ‘em over.”

“No.” This is exactly what he’s been avoiding, assigning her utter tedium.

She pushes the papers toward him. “C’mon.”

He blinks at her before opening the file. It’s some report or inventory request, or both or neither, which he has no idea why he has to sign, but he’ll do it because that’s job along with waiting around and going to briefings and briefings about briefings. Not even a week in and he was ready to crawl out of his skin or at least out the window. Chick denied both his requests to fly so he’s truly stuck in this office for who knows how long. Goddamn Air Exec.

Two signatures, three, four, five—Hazel points to hidden dotted lines, flipping through the pages without a second glance, and Jack can’t help but feel like she’s tying his shoes. That probably flew with Bucky, but it wouldn’t with him. They gave him the promotion because they knew he could do the job well and he agreed. This is something he could be good at. A team of subordinates was a perk of the job, expected for a man of such a station, and he’s grateful that folks were will to help out, but he’d grown up watching secretaries turn from aides to mother-wives and he doesn’t want that for anyone, especially a gal as nice as Hazel. He’ll find something for her to do.

He signs the last page and closes the file as Hazel stands, hand outstretched. Pausing for a moment, he doesn’t pass it over quite yet. “I don’t want you being my errand girl.”

She reaches across the desk and plucks the file from him. “It’s my job.”

She turns on a graceful heel and heads out across the floor, making it to Harding’s office and back before he could find it in him to stop staring at her confident, unaffronted gait. Bright laughter—the brightest he’s ever heard—bubbles out of her as she tucks her skirt under her thighs and takes a seat at her desk.

“You could’ve signed three more reports in the time that took me. Now I’m gonna have to wait for you.” She tsked. “Wastin’ both our time.”

She’s tying his shoes again and that lights a fire under his ass for the rest of the day. He clears the files that had accumulated on his desk plus two rounds of parts inventory from the hard stand and he gets a memo off to London requesting more birds. He feels satisfied by the time he flicks off the light and gathers his jacket and coat. It sure wasn’t flying, but it felt like making a difference all the time. He didn’t know he could do that from behind a desk.

It takes some soul-searching, but he manages to light his own fire for the rest of the week. He maintains his composure through the worst of it, a long fog delay that had half his pilots climbing into the tower to beg him for clearance, a ‘misplaced’ delivery of Mae Wests that somehow ended up with the 418th before they came to ops, and another declined request to fly from Harding. Goddamn Air Exec.

The job gets easier each day, especially with Hazel right outside the door. It does feel more like a team than subordination as they move around each other, trading reports and memos without having to speak. Still, she’s a few steps ahead of him—coming through the door before he can call her to pick up a file, finding this or that form before he can realize he’s misplaced it—but he’s determined to catch up. He comes in early on Saturday and has the summarized after action reports in Chick’s office before Hazel’s arrived for the day. It’s a good feeling when her eyes go wide in surprise and her cheery mouth finds its usual smile.

“Well, I suppose we’re even now.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “not even close.”

If they’re really going to be a team, he’s going to even the playing field. No more having her play governess. Neither of them are here to clean up after someone else.

That evening, Hazel is leaning into Chick’s doorway as Jack leaves for the day, chatting with Sheila.

He mumbles a ‘pardon me’ as he passes and her face lifts at the sight of him. “Major Kidd! We were just talkin’ about you.”

“You were?” he asks as they fall into lockstep on their way out.

“We were sayin’ how nice it is to have an Air Exec who knows what he’s doin’.”

“Bucky tried his best.” He’s lying.

She knows it and she snorts. “He was fun to have around, certainly.”

It’s quiet as they walk. The flights have stopped for the day and if he strains his ears he’d be able to hear the crews working away on the hard stand, but there’s no need for that now. That’s another thing he’s learning—when he’s doing the job and when he’s not. With the warm evening air and the blazing sunset in front of them, he’s grateful for the time off the clock.

He looks at Hazel and is struck by the sight. The light washes her dark cherrywood skin in a velvet glow, sending shadows of her lashes and her nose across her face. He’s suddenly jealous of Bucky and he doesn't know why. She catches his eye and smiles. Blanching, he clears his throat and stares at the ground. His boots are the cleanest they’ve been since he’s been in England now that he’s out of the grease and dust of the planes. Goddamn Air Exec.

They’re nearly at the ops barracks when he realizes that he doesn’t know where she’s going. Does she live in the barracks? Is she one of the girls who’s at a billet in town? Why doesn’t he know? Shouldn’t he know? She’s never in the mess and is so rarely at the Silver Wings. He wonders what she does with her time. He realizes he doesn’t know much about her at all, not her hometown, her family, where she was before the Air Force. The Oberlin pennant on the wall in his office had prompted her to ask into his life, but that’s because she’s always where he is, but he’s never where she is. He wants to be.

“Where’re you headed?”

She comes to a stop. “Home.”

“Where’s that?”

Her wry smile makes his heart skip a beat as she turns down the path leading toward the enlisted barracks. “Good evening, Major.” She never calls him that.

“Some of us’ll be at the pub tonight—Chick, Red, Bucky… it’d be good to see you.” He takes a half-step toward her so as not to yell the offer, maybe she’ll take it if he’s gentle. Part of him hopes she’ll say yes. He wants time with her outside of keeping the group on its feet, just an hour to hear her laugh, to ask her where she gets that charming accent from, to ask her for a dance. Part of him hopes she’ll give him one more good smile and walk away, that she’ll remind him there are rules, lines to be maintained. He’s not going to become his father.

“Good evening,” she repeats and he watches her go. He doesn’t have time to dwell on the ache in his chest as Cros yells at him from across the way. He’ll have his night and she’ll have hers.

He’s not sure if he should apologize for being out of turn when he sees her next, clear the air and make it clear that he’s not… he isn’t going to be that man. He reasons to himself that wants to know her as a teammate, in the same way he’d come to know the members of his crew. It’s what any good leader does. There’s a short speech ready to go when he enters HQ Monday morning after seeing the forts off.

She greets him as politely as she always has, but he gets the feeling he probably wouldn’t be able to tell if she’s upset. Her cards are meticulously close to her chest while she learns about the people around her. It’d be a good quality in a C.O. He thinks of all the women he’d just sent to Norway—Ginny, Vera, Amelie, Suzanne. Hazel would fit right in.

There’s a small box on his desk, no sender address upon investigation. “Hazel?”

“Yeah?” she asks as she gets up from her desk.

“Do you know who this is from?” He’s popping open one end with his letter opener.

“Oh, well,” she starts, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe, “it’s from my momma” Her inflection is that of an embarrassed and entertained daughter.

A swath of white silk flutters to the floor and he picks it up. It’s a scarf decorated with rows of small and large flowers. From… from her mother?

“I—I, uh, I wrote her about you and she insisted on sending it. Bucky got one, too, when he started.”

He couldn’t recall Bucky ever wearing a scarf. “What’d he do with it?”

She scoffs. “God knows. I don’t think he remembers getting it. It was one of his… one of his mornings.”

“Hungover?”

“Still drunk.”

Closing distance, she takes the scarf from him gently and tosses it around his shoulders. She’s so near now as she starts tying it and he can look at her while she concentrates, her eyes glittering with that hope that never seems to fade. Does her mother have the same eyes? The same round apples of her cheeks, the lovely point of her chin? And her perfume, the faint hint of roses he occasionally gets during the day now in full force as she works. He feels flush and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or where to put his eyes or what to say. A woman who’d only heard about him in letters sent her daughter to war and is sending him beautiful scarves. That’s the kind of woman who would raise Hazel.

“I always tell her that this is unnecessary, that y’all have mommas of your own to fuss over ya,” she says as she adjusts the knot at his neck and smoothes her hands over his shoulders.

“I—I don’t,” he stammers out.

Her eyes widen and he hates the kick in his chest. “Oh, I’m—I’m so sorry, Jack, I had no idea.”

He waves her off but can’t quite find the words. There’s a yearning suddenly, one he left in the dark years ago, and he doesn’t know what’ll come out if he tries to name it. Hazel puts a comforting hand on his arm and looks at him sympathetically. “Well, I’ll tell my momma to keep sending scarves… only if—if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I could use a few more of these,” he says, glancing down at the knot at his neck. He probably looks ridiculous wearing it without the rest of his flight gear, but the accomplished smile on Hazel’s face is worth it. He’ll bear all the stares in the world if it keeps her smiling.

She gives him one more once over before returning to her desk. “It’s a good color on you.”

“Matches my eyes?”

“Something like that.” She winks.

His stomach flips; he thinks of his father and three weddings.

“Oh,” she calls, “you can keep it on.”

He raises an interested eyebrow.

“The Telergma mission, you’re going. Chick sent authorization this morning.”

Three days later, Ev’s the only one who comments on Jack’s new gear after they finally get the all-clear for engine start.

“That from Franny?” his co-pilot asks. It’s a good guess; his sister would send something like it.

“Lieutenant Keene’s mother sent it.”

Ev scoffs with a shake of his head. “Your secretary’s mother is sending you scarves? Goddamn Air Exec.”

Yeah, Jack thinks, smirking out the window and sitting a little taller. Goddamn Air Exec.

#my writing #hazel keene #jack kidd x oc #masters of the air #straighten up and fly right #jack x hazel #some of y'all have neat little banners for all of your works and i want one of those i just don't know how to make them #also this ended up being way more of a jack character study than a true intro to hazel because i wrote it in his pov instead of hers #also i can't decide if this universe is in present or past tense. who's to say

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soullessjack · 2 days

Note

🔥 jack

oh my godddd I have so many unpopular opinions where do I even start….HOLY DISCLAIMER BATMAN!

anyways so in no particular order or tier system:

✯ i don’t think jack would wear anything feminine im sorry spn fandom. for lolz he has same-outfit-pattern-everyday autism and for serious it’s like. Really weird how fandoms tend to HC/portray non-binary amabs (and men/transmascs in general) almost exclusively as GNC or fem-presenting…like DGMW that is a real and valid form of self expression but it’s not the Only type of non-binary expression that exists. and honestly…**dare I say that most fandom/queer spaces just need to realize that queer masculinity exists and it doesn’t always have to be a matter of breaking gender norms??

** genuinely do whatever u want idc I can’t stop you i don’t want to stop you yada yada. paint his nails and put him in a skirt all u want but Please recognize patterns yall 😭

✯ more headcanon complaints (see disclaimer above ⇧) but I promise to switch it up soon. anyways every time somebody on this lil website says something along the lines of “Jack can’t handle/doesn’t like [insert violence, scary or adult-oriented thing], he prefers [soft or blatantly childlike things]” I shrivel inward like a dead spider. It’s annoying, it’s completely inaccurate to his canon personality and interests, it’s annoying ˣ2, and whether ppl wanna admit it or not—it stems from infantilization. not necessarily ableism, as infantilization is not exclusive to disabled people, but still just about the same thing.

honestly all I see of majority jack headcanons are ones that set him back to just being a child or otherwise being treated like one. for example, the one about him being able to shapeshift is pretty cool...until it just becomes about him deciding to age regress, yknow, to an age set he canonically chose not to go through, showed no desire to be in, and is more offended than anything to be considered as such. all of his interests have to be some shit like bluey or animal crossing, and he drinks apple juice from a sippy cup instead of beer. BARF.

I’ve lessened on my keyboard warring over babyjack in the past year but I have not lessened in being a hater. and I’ve said this before, but the baby-jack au already breached headcanon containment a long time ago when it’s not only so widespread that ppl take it for canon and it makes having any intelligent conversation about him nearly fucking Impossible, but it also lead to harassment and accusations of being a fucking predator, to anyone who dared find a whole grown man attractive. any potential jack ship, like jackharper? automatic grooming case to them. it’s like the fandom is just so dead set on this idea that jack really truly is a child in every aspect you can think of, and for what? if it’s just a headcanon, something you know is not part of the actual show, then don’t go Travis the Chimp levels of apeshit when you see him being treated like he is canonically 💀

unpopular opinion numero 3 which is slightly connected to 2:

✯ baby-jack and a handful of the domestic au’s are BORING (see disclaimer again ⇧), not just on a surface level to my suiting, but also because I feel like it just ..misses the point of the show?

the ragtag untraditional found family is now as nuclear and traditional as the Atomic Age. Dean and Cas are the most heteronormative “who wears the pants in the relationship” gay couple ever, Sam is demoted to the uncle that gets written out of his own family, Jack is just there to make his gay dads look cute and emphasize that they’re a gay family (while still being very heteronormative), and at least 5 of them could be found in a California gated community. everything that made any of them unique or defined their personalities is just scrubbed off, even for an AU.

so much of the later seasons focus on Sam and Dean realizing that they don’t have to make a hard splitting decision between the lives they want to live; that they can find a balance; be happy and have good things—namely families—without giving up hunting (and vice versa, that they can have hunting without giving up on family or happiness). everybody loves the gay hunters from S10(?12?) and what they represented for Dean, but I almost never see that be put into practice in the fandom.

THEY’RE ALREADY DOMESTIC!!! AND WITH THAT PERFECT BALANCE!!!! Season 13 quite literally gave Team Free Will a surrogate son to raise and established them as a family; highly untraditional, largely dysfunctional, overall not fitting of a family family, and yet they are a family still. Dean wears an apron and cooks and bakes for everyone; he built himself a man cave and established two separate family night events that they all ritually keep up; Sam has a morning jogging routine and visits his girlfriend every so often; Jack was taught how to drive, has normal chores like washing dishes, and gets groceries. And they didn’t just have that while fighting monsters—they had that while fighting a whole fucking archangel. Even if it did go down the gutter by the end, they still had it: domestic familial bliss and violent messy hunting without having to trade one for the other.

✯ I truly genuinely think Jack’s relationship with Dean is the best, most interesting and most misunderstood out of the three, and I also think that the problems with his relationship to Cas and Sam are hugely overlooked by the fandom—granted they are very small, especially if you’re comparing it to Dean, but they’re still there and I think we should bully Cas and Sam about it more. I shan’t elaborate because it’s 5AM and this was an impulsive add-on ❤️

✯ getting normal now…his plaid pattern jacket from the first half of Ouroboros is ugly as SHIT i have never liked it and don’t think I ever will. but I cannot deny it; he got that shit on.

✯ most unpopular opinion of all, I wanna do insane shit to his cervix 🙌

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notetaeker · 16 hours

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Hello!!! How did you become so dedicated to your studies? Do you have some advice?

I love your blog, btw✨️

Hi hi hi!! Thanks for the sweet message 💞💞

My BIG study tips (after 25 years of studying):

Accept your fate. This goes for anything but I used to procrastinate with studying a LOT and once you start it's actually not that bad. It's guaranteed. Automatically once you start, you have started, so you're already on your way, so it's already automatically not as bad anymore. Whining abt ur studies and avoiding them will not make them go away unfortunately. Just do it.

Make study time sacred. A few minutes of focused study is much more valuable than 5 hours spent at the library "studying" + scrolling + talking to friends + listening to music at the same time. Doing 5 hours like that is literally putting yourself thru hell because 1. you cant fully enjoy any of those non-studying activities and 2. you come out of that being like ugh I studied this page for 5 hours I'm tired of studying I need a break. Pomodoro method really changed my life pls try it out if u haven't already

That one tumblr post that says 'learning is basically being exposed to the same materials many times in multiple ways' is 100% correct. How many different ways can you expose yourself to the material. Memorizing facts- can you draw it? Can you organize the facts into lists? Can you attach a funny story to one of the facts? The more ways you interact with any material, the stronger it's saved in your memory. Find out if you're a visual learner- and then create visual tools, maybe color coding things helps you. Do a little digging and find out what works for you.

Diversify your life. Have some hobbies, spend time with friends/family, take a break. Let the computer of your brain sort out things in the background while you do other things. Once you go back to studying, you will feel refreshed (and not fatigued from 5 hrs in the library doing "studying") This also means that if you fail an exam, you won't be like 'oh no i spent my whole spring break studying for this exam and didn't even enjoy it and now I got a bad grade i must be horrible my life is nothing' and spiral. def not based on a true story :) Instead you'll be like yeah I failed but look at this scarf I crocheted look at mee i have mental health!

Sleep is magic- no matter what anyone else tries to tell you. 1. If you studied something during the day, just review those things right before bed and magically they will get set into your brain. Also 2. sleeping is when our brain sorts info so if you don't get any sleep at all it' the same as taking your study sheets and throwing them into the air, so when you ask your brain for the info during the test it's like lol it's around here somewhere. On the other hand, if you slept and gave ur brain time to sort it, when you ask for that info, it'll just open the right drawer and give u the info!

That's it for the big ones- if you want more specific advice feel free to ask! Also as a disclaimer, these 5 are all big life lessons that I had to learn thru trial and error, so consider these to be the advice I would give myself at a younger age. Pls don't be offended lol whenever I said 'you' I rlly was thinking abt myself.

#studyblr #study tips #replies #anon #writing this list felt like free therapy thanks anon + I hope this is useful for u

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elffees · 2 days

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How Fragile Allyship is Portrayed in Frontiers of Pandora

So I really love this audio log from Priya and needed to talk about it. This entire post will be based on this log.

Transcript:

"I ... it's Priya. Obviously. I don't know what day it is. Nothing makes sense... Alma's dead. Alma. Is. Dead.

Oh wow. That's weird. But you know what the really weird, screwy part is? There's this whole other Alma just walking around. Except she's not blue and she's got tiny eyes. Do we all have such tiny eyes? I just ... I feel like good Alma was killed. And we're left with this other one who everyone hates. But really it's the same person. Or is it?

I don't know what to think. I'm not really the one for existential crises, but this is a real brain-breaker. And I'm ... I'm sad. My friend died. No. No. She was murdered. I know she did some bad things, but Nor had no right. I'm glad he's gone. Maybe he's glad too. He never liked it here. Never liked us. Humans.

But we're trying to help. Alma was trying to help. She was protecting them. She tried. Right? Mercer's the bad one. That's all I know for sure. And that other Alma... she wants to hang out, just like old times. But... she's not my friend. Not— I think I hear someone. Signing off."

This audio log can be found in the Resistance Hideout.

I really like this log because it encapsulates the different ways allies & marginalized peoples view and are affected by certain situations.

Disclaimer before I start: I am not saying Priya is a bad person, nor am I saying allies are bad people.

For starters, I can understand why Priya, and likely other Resistance members, have mixed feelings towards Alma. It's a very complex situation. So Priya regarding it as "weird" and being at a complete loss makes sense.

What I want to focus on in this post are the last 3 paragraphs. Where she expresses confusion and hurt because "Good Alma was murdered".

I think this right here is a very well written distinction on how allies and the marginalized communities they assist experience situations differently.

Alma's Reveal

Everyone had their worlds turned upside down when Alma confessed the full extent of her actions in TAP. Alma admits that her avatar was a tool for manipulation. Although she may care for the Sarentu children now, for the majority of their relationship, from the genocide, to TAP, to being frozen and left behind, Alma's avatar was a tool to manipulate and coerce Na'vi into viewing her (and by extension TAP, then later the Resistance) as "one of them". As someone to trust and relate to. The purpose of her having an avatar was to act as a golden ticket into Na'vi society.

Alma was not "murdered". There is no "good" or even "bad" Alma. There is only Alma.

The human who played a role in the massacre of a clan, then manipulated its survivors for years, then left them behind to remain in stasis for nearly 2 more decades.

Who is also the human who founded the Western Resistance and tried to band together several Na'vi clans to protect Pandora, who encouraged the Sarentu to reclaim their culture and customs the ones that didn't expose her ofc, and who helped rid Pandora of cackling narcissist John Mercer.

There is only ONE Alma that has done all of these things.

Alma was not "murdered". Her tool of manipulation was destroyed. The object, the mask, the weapon that gave Alma her power and confidence and that helped her fool not only the Sarentu, not only the Resistance, but also herself into thinking she was something she was not, was taken from her.

Alma was not murdered. She was thrust back into reality.

And so, Priya's last 3 paragraphs interest me. It's completely fine that she mourns the image of who she thought Alma was. In a way I think the Sarentu (sans Nor) do as well. Everyone thought Alma was just a good person who only wanted to help with no ulterior motives. It's painful to realize that was far from the case.

But then Priya goes on to hate Nor. She spits his name out like a curse. Glad he's gone because "he never liked them anyway". That he had no right to "murder" Alma because she only did a few "bad things".

There's a lot to unpack there.

Priya's Blaming of Nor & It's Ties to Fragile Allyship

I want to break down the lines one by one.

She was murdered. I know she did some bad things, but Nor had no right.

For starters, it is EXTREMELY COMMON for allies of marginalized communities to "insert their two cents" on a delicate topic. More often than not when there is inter-community issues, allies have a tendency to say the phrase: "I'm [insert demographic] so take what I'm saying with a grain of salt, BUT I think..." Any and all oppressed classes have heard this phrase from MILLIONS of allies before.

The FOP writers did remarkably well at capturing what allyship looks like when writing the Resistance. Because Priya, as a human formerly part of the oppressive group trying to wipe out the Na'vi and Pandoran wildlife, fully believes she can judge whether Nor had a right or not.

It's not her call.

She cannot determine whether Nor was justified or not because she, as someone part of the privileged class in the world of the game, has never suffered from the harm that Alma's avatar has caused.

She, and none of the Resistance members, were raised by Alma's avatar.

They were not lied to by Alma's avatar for YEARS about the true fate of their families and loved ones.

They were not encouraged to view Alma as a mother-figure or nurturing teacher or beloved caretaker, when she was actually just eager for fame and success.

They were not put into cryosleep and then left behind for 16 MORE YEARS with suspicions that this abandonment was an intentional coverup.

They did not suffer any of that.

They saw her as the leader of the Resistance and as a friend, which does cause an impactful betrayal of course, but Alma's avatar never tried to force them to see her as family. As someone to love.

While Priya only says all this in a private audio log and thankfully doesn't say it to any of the Sarentu or god forbid So'lek, these are her thoughts. The simple fact she believes she can judge Nor, that she has the capacity and authority to scold one of the main victims, is a reoccurring feature of privileged allies who struggle to realize that they cannot relate or ever fully understand how marginalized communities experience oppression.

Priya says Nor had "no right" to "murder" Alma. When truthfully, Priya has no right to judge how the Sarentu feel and respond.

I'm glad he's gone. Maybe he's glad too. He never liked it here. Never liked us. Humans.

After Priya attempts to place judgement on Nor's actions, she then dives deeper.

She is glad Nor is gone. Not ONLY because of what he did to Alma's avatar. No. She is also glad he's gone because Nor was not friendly.

Another prime instance of fragile allyship is that allies tend to believe that marginalized people are only worth their sympathy if they're likeable.

This has a lot ties to the "Perfect Victim" concept.

Because Nor was not friendly, because his trauma caused him to distrust humans and he did not quickly get over it and befriend Resistance members, he is undeserving of as much sympathy as the other Sarentu.

It's seen as a positive that he's gone (despite the fact he ran away in clear emotional distress.) Not just because of what he did to Alma's avatar, but because now Priya and the Resistance no longer have to assist someone that's "ungrateful" and "not as nice" as they should be.

The purpose of being an ally is to help oppressed classes survive against circumstances that would otherwise have them discriminated against or have them dead. Being a truly good ally should not hinder on whether the person is "likeable" or "grateful" for their services. But sadly, in the real world, that is one of the most common "conditions" a LOT of allies have when it comes to offering support. How much they like the person or groups they claim to want to help.

Allyship is more often than not based on likeability, rather than morality.

But we're trying to help. Alma was trying to help. She tried. Right?

Another feature of fragile allyship is the tendency to change sides.

Priya agrees that what Alma did was wrong. She understands that.

But because of the simple fact that Alma is human, Priya not only relates but tries to defend Alma's actions. Seeing herself in Alma is understandable because they are both human and were friends. The problem comes when Priya begins to project and defend Alma's actions.

It doesn't matter that by her own admission Alma's main goals were fame and achievement. It doesn't matter how much the Sarentu are hurt by her actions. It doesn't matter that Nor was outraged. It doesn't matter that even calm and collected Ri'nela was disgusted. It doesn't matter HOW the Sarentu, as the direct victims, feel about Alma's actions. It doesn't matter that intent ≠ impact.

Alma is human like Priya, so from Priya's POV, Alma's 'intentions' hold more value than how the Sarentu were impacted. "We're" trying to help. Alma was trying to help. So her actions can't have been that bad. Right?

Mercer's the bad one. That's all I know for sure.

And finally, this is another feature of how allies tend to respond to things.

Of the two, Mercer is the one who unabashedly committed the massacre and oppressed the Sarentu for years. Mercer is "the bad one" because his actions are overt. They are clear cut, obvious, and maniacally evil.

When real world marginalized groups face microaggressions or covert prejudice, allies have a tendency to step in and defend the offender. "Hm, I don't think that was racist." "Are you sure that's homophobic?" "It's just a word. I don't see how it can be ableist to say." - "It's not like it's really hurting anyone."

When oppression is not as clear cut to allies, they tend to dismiss it entirely. It doesn't matter how the victims feel about the situation. As discussed earlier in the post, allies tend to think they have the authority and capability to make judgements on prejudice they do not face, and ergo believe they can determine how "bad" something really is. Better than the marginalized class can themselves.

In Priya's eyes, Alma is better than Mercer because Mercer's oppression was harsh yelling, explosions, and murder. "Mercer's the bad one" while Alma was "only trying to help."

But in truth, both Mercer and Alma have done and continued to do harmful things. They both played a part in the decimation and continued manipulation of the Sarentu. Both for their own selfish purposes.

Oppression has many faces. It does not always look the same, it is not always a mustache twirling villain. It can be subtle and quiet. It can be hidden behind gentle eyes and smiles. It can be from "good intentions" just as easily as it comes from "bad intentions". It can be subconscious, it can be self aware, it can be secretive, it can be out in the open. It can be many things. There is not only "one bad" style.

Oppression is just as diverse as the communities it aims to harm.

Conclusion

I want to reiterate that I do not dislike Priya and this post isn't a hate campaign against her. I know many dudebros in the fanbase unfairly criticize her.

The point of this post is to applaud the FOP writers. It is very rare when mainstream media is able to accurately depict how fragile allyship is. Priya's reaction to Nor stabbing Alma's avatar is painfully realistic to the many ways allies have reacted to certain situations in the real world.

This is one of the many reasons why I love this game and feel it hits home. Not only can I relate to the Na'vi clans, but my god can I relate to the way allies are written in relation to them. And I feel like this audio log from Priya, while brief and easily missable, is one of the prime moments of realism this game portrays really well.

#it's such a minor audio log / note #but it really hit me and i just had to talk abt it #frontiers of pandora #avatar frontiers of pandora #afop #priya chen #alma cortez #lexi plays afop #long text post //#long post //#sorry lol

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chaoticbardlady99 · 24 hours

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Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me

Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader\

Chapter 7: Skinny Love

Synopsis: You and Astarion go shopping for a dress and end up stumbling upon a very special Violin. After a week of Astarion avoiding you, you decide to do something about it.

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Gods above, Astarion thinks, if you do exist- some assistance with self control would be appreciated.

This is probably the eighth dress you have tried on and while he can tell you aren’t happy with it, he and his body certainly are. Just like the last dress, and the one before, and the one before that.

It had been about a week and a half since you both arrived in Waterdeep and he immediately began teaching you how to fight like a rogue, but also provided you with typical bard weapons like hand crossbows. He bought several different types of weapons for you to try- so far you seem most adept with the Rapier, hand crossbows, and hand to hand combat.

However, this means both of you had been excessively close and touching frequently- sometimes in compromising positions that make Astarion want to take you right there- eat you out while you cry out his name like a prayer on the sparring mat Gale so graciously conjured up.

His libido hasn’t calmed down- it’s gotten even worse- along with his intense feelings towards you. Yesterday’s debacle didn’t help. Astarion had taken a fairly easy contract so that you could practice sneaking around. Well, the family came home earlier than anticipated and Astarion had dragged you both into a large Wardrobe that was obviously never used and only for show.

You had tried to argue in protest because you didn’t know what was going on- Astarion found himself holding you tightly against his chest, your back to him, and his hand covering your mouth.

He could smell your arousal, the way your heart started up again like a kick drum after it stopped, and you certainly couldn’t hide the minuscule moans that had left your lips when he pulled you closer to him whenever someone walked by. He just hoped you couldn’t tell how hard he was against you.

But do you actually want him or was that just the nature of the circumstances?

It’s become borderline unbearable- sleeping next to you is a wonderful experience, but he’s often up early trying to tell his body to calm the hell down- his imagination getting even more imaginative.

“What about this one?”

You hop up on the little platform and look in the mirror with your hands on your hips before twirling to look at him.

You look like a dream- the lavender satin fits your curves in all of the right ways and accentuates your hips, ass, and breasts without being overly showy. It’s modest- the top wrapped in a different direction than the floor length skirt and the straps are meant to hang, unsupported along your shoulders before dropping down along the back- reaching just below the skirt so that it looks like you are almost wearing a cloak of sorts.

“You are a vision,” he whispers, the words he’s been trying to hold back all day finally come flying out of him.

“So yes?” You ask nervously, while picking at your nails.

He nods, too worried he may give a full blown love confession in the middle of the dress shop if he opens his mouth.

Thankfully, shoes and purchasing everything was the easiest part of the day- the sun beginning to go to sleep. You kept insisting on letting you do something to pay him back for buying all these items for you, but he doesn’t want you to feel like you owe him a damn thing.

You don’t have money- you were quite literally a cat up until two weeks ago. Astarion is more than happy to make sure you have what you need- reminding you, once again, that if it were anyone else it would be a nuisance, but you are worth it.

You are Astarion’s Godsend after all.

“Gods,” you stop in front of a music shop, “look at that beauty.”

Astarion follows as you are completely enraptured and away from the world- pulled inside towards the beautiful instrument and you just stare at it.

“Ah- I see I have a fan of the classics!” The elderly man comes up and gives you a firm pat on the shoulder that Astarion has to help you rebalance from, “Made of Englemann Spruce with Maple sidings. Rosewood fittings along the pegs and the floral pattern as well as the leafing pattern are hand carved.

“It’s not for sale- it’s a part of a little competition I have put together.”

“Competition?” You are practically frothing at the mouth, “what competition!?”

The man smiles widely, he must be an older bard and a teacher. Symbols of Oghma are along the walls and Astarion is absolutely thrilled that your first real choice of stop doesn’t have a single attractive individual around. He doesn’t have any desire to fight for your attention.

“It’s not so much a competition, per say, but lots of people have turned it into one. Anyone who walks into this shop and sees this Violin is drawn to it for a reason,” he says, “but only one person is meant for this Violin. It’s waiting for someone- otherwise it sounds like shit.”

You laugh at the man’s last sentence, “so temperamental.”

“Aren’t they all?”

You look at the Violin and Astarion studies your expressions. There is apprehension and fear, but also so much hope- so much hope that you may be the one the Violin has been waiting for.

“Would you like to play it?” The elderly man rasps, “I have never felt it produce such intense energy nor yearning to be played as it is right now.”

“I know,” you whisper, “I can feel it.”

You take the violin and Astarion notes how you hold it as if it’s a living breathing human being that deserves respect. You hold the violin as if you are worshipping it- not a single sound comes from it as you gently pick it up and cradle it against your face.

“What are you going to -“

You hold up a finger to the old man- listening to the violin. Within in an instant- beautiful, bright, cheerful music pours from your finger tips and into the violin.

Astarion feels the breath he doesn’t need being stolen from his lungs and brought to life as it always should have been- the air feels warmer, but in a soft spring day kind of way. The sun’s rays seem to warm the room even though it is the evening and Astarion feels utter- complete bliss. So calm and relaxed, the store clerk seems to feel the same way.

Astarion feels disappointment float through the air when you stop playing and he notices how you look at the clerk with wide, desperate eyes.

“Is that what you were looking for?”

The man smiles and you hand him back the violin- he begins to move to the part of the store where the cases are.

“About 400 years ago- I had a feeling I needed to make this violin,” he says wistfully, “I could never figure out why- it all had to be particularly done in a certain way and when I tried to play it, it wouldn’t produce a single noteworthy sound.

“I thought I did something wrong,” he shakes his head laughing, “but then Oghma came to me and said that the violin is waiting for it’s person, it’s purpose and that I will know when they arrive.”

He places the violin in a deep blue velvet, hard case and locks it. Before handing it over to you- you look like you are on the verge of tears and honestly, so is Astarion. He is so happy for you he could scream it from the rooftops.

“I’m glad I no longer have to look,” he says with a wink, “take care of the old gal, will you?”

“With my life, sir!”

You are giddy and hugging your new violin to your chest- dancing along the streets and skipping occasionally from giddiness.

You almost miss the empty park- almost.

Astarion gently grabs your arm and guides you to the park- a few people are wandering around or sitting at the bench. One elderly woman looks at the sky crying.

“Oh, do you want to go for a quick walk?”

“No- I want you to play.”

You look at Astarion like he’s grown a second and then third head.

“I couldn’t,” you shake your head, “I haven’t played for a group in years and-“

“And yet you are still one of the most incredible violin players I have ever heard,” he whispers, not wanting to have anyone else pressure you, “I understand if you don’t want to, but I think it would be a disservice to all of humanoid kind to not hear you play tonight in this park.”

You look up at him- searching his face. Astarion is begging and pleading that you don’t discover how disgustingly love sick he is for you. He doesn’t want to ruin your friendship- he doesn’t want you to run off because you can’t possibly ever return his feelings and don’t want to hurt him.

“You really think so?”

“I know so, my Darling,” Astarion says, absentmindedly cupping one side of your face and swiping his thumb along your cheek gently, “you are brilliant and I will take every little morsel of your talents that you are willing to share.”

That seems to do the trick- you walk out on the little stage meant for bards and you begin to set up. You make sure the instrument is tuned and you seem to be thinking hard about something. You look at him while placing the violin on your shoulder and pressing your chin into it.

One of Astarion’s favorite songs hits the air and he feels engulfed in it. Your last several months of traveling had allowed you to teach him a lot about violin music and how to feel it, not just listen to it. Astarion always jumped at the opportunity to take you to see a Bard in the park after the first time at Baldur’s Gate.

You know how to play other instruments as well, but your favorite is the violin, so he always made a point of traveling faster if there had been a violinist heading to the town nearby. Gale kept him updated as you traveled- it was very easy to make happen for you.

He never wanted to walk down the Crypt of the Rothwell steps and see you grieving for your biggest fan, your mother, ever again. She died, not even saving herself, because she loved you so much she couldn’t bear to live without you. Astarion, as much as he wishes he didn’t, understands exactly how your mother felt and he can only imagine the bliss she felt at the idea of being reunited with her again or at least, not feeling the pain of your absence, anymore.

You only play songs Astarion likes- he notices. It fills his heart with hope, but he also didn’t realize how many happy, cheerful songs he has taken such a liking to.

It is because of you, after all, so it’s fitting that you would be the one to perform them. It sounds better when you play them and Astarion is certainly ruined for any other bard from here on out.

His entire life, his soul, and even 200 years of torment seem to have been balanced with every moment he has with you- now you are here and playing violin for him as if it’s the simplest task in the world.

After 200 years of keeping his candle alight, you are still helping him to see more clearly- your love, your life, your laugh, everything about you, has given him back a spark he never thought he would find again.

He would marry you tomorrow if he could. You could travel together, live anywhere in the world, and the possibilities are entirely endless. Maybe one day you will both find a couple of wish scrolls to reverse your respective afflictions.

You would never know what it means to be unloved again. You would never want for anything because Astarion would find a way for you to get whatever you needed and then some.

You play with the same vigor you started with- even though it’s been about an hour. People are gathered around you in awe, but not a single gold coin.

Astarion gets up and places a couple coins in your case- others quickly swarming. You look at him and Astarion swears he sees the emotions he wants you to feel towards him.

Love, happiness, belonging.

Several hours go by before you end up back in bed with him- cuddling close. Astarion had complimented you until your entire face and neck were a blush red color and, admittedly, he was thrilled that you had turned down every man who had asked to get to know you tonight.

However, there was one thing he struggled to understand.

“Why did you play songs that are my favorite, Darling?”

You look embarrassed and avoid his gaze.

“You are the only one worth playing for,” you whisper, “and I wanted to do something for you because it makes me happy when you are happy.”

Astarion looks at you and you look at him.

“You make me happy just by being you,” he whispers, “never change, Birdie.”

You smile and snuggle closer into him. He doesn’t even try to stop the pleased sigh that leaves his body. You relax significantly more after that.

“My mom used to put a gold coin in my case when I played in public,” you smile, your tears a mix of wistfulness and grief, “she said it made other people feel obligated to do it.”

Astarion snorts, “that was exactly what I was thinking- great minds think alike.”

You laugh and the sound fills his chest with adoration. He is truly truly fucked. Astarion doesn’t know what it’s like to be in love with someone, but this feels pretty damn close to what books describe.

He isn’t ready to shatter the illusion or go plummeting like Icarus when you ultimately reject him.

Astarion is grateful for your breathing evening out and he let’s himself continue to bask in the illusion that you are his and he is yours.

*****************************************************************

You stand near Astarion’s location and sip on your flute of Champagne- trying to soothe the bruises to your ego as Astarion confronts his mark. He flashes you a look every once in a while- frustration and fear.

You weren’t supposed to be there, but you had snuck after him- letting him think you would stay in Gale’s tower and spend the evening with them.

You had argued against it for the entire day- he used to take you everywhere, why is he suddenly leaving you behind all the time?

“You have no proper fighting skills,” he said in exasperation, “and it’s not like I can fit you into my bag anymore- even that wasn’t safe enough!”

He left in a huff and you waited a while before trailing after him. Unfortunately, he caught you pretty quickly right outside the party- pulling you into the bushes and telling you to go back. You refused and he caved, but you had to stay out of the way.

“I want you to know that I personally have no problem with you being here,” Astarion says to the imposter Marqui of Nesmé , “I actually find dogs to be relatively good company from time to time.”

The man looks positively flabbergasted under the pounds of make-up and a disguise glamor- he’s evidently not very good at protecting his identity. You can hardly judge though- Astarion is all melodramatics with pretty words and funny quips- he could disarm even the most apathetic of individuals.

Astarion is also hardly inconspicuous with the amount of male and female attention he attracts- the Marqui is obviously noticing this now too as people begin to murmur around them.

You are already anticipating possessing the ‘Marqui’ and dragging him outside before he (or Astarion) can crash the Duke of Waterdeep’s Ball. Duke-what’s-his-nuts had demanded that his guards rid Waterdeep of all Werewolf presence that had infiltrated the citiy’s walls. The order was put out due to the recent slaughtering of livestock and increased infection rate, but his guards failed. He was furious! He wanted to be the one who gets to brag about saving the day!

Thankfully the Duke isn’t privey to the fact that the stranger who will be earning his gold this evening is like a character from a children’s book; most of his plans are not thought through- despite how many times he has learned that lesson- and the execution is… well sloppy.

However, you would be lying if you didn’t say the lack of a plan is rather exciting. You enjoy thinking on your toes- you miss being the ‘brains’ of the operation and getting to be involved, but you will settle for this for now.

The man says something that you can’t hear- Astarion puts his hand over his chest in shock and takes two dramatic steps back. You can’t help the little bit of laughter that rises up your chest- Gods he’s adorable.

“Did you just-? Did anyone else hear that!?” Astarion says with fake distress, “this man just threatened me!”

The other man is panicking now- realizing that Astarion is, in fact, the one fearless asshole who isn’t going to let him leave alive without a fight.

“Will you shut your mouth already!? I did not threaten you! I merely suggested you walk away! I can give you gol-“

“With a knife to my chest, nonetheless,” Astarion says, barely containing his grin and keeping up the act, “I am positively flabbergasted- bamboozled. How dare I be treated this way in my own Duke’s home!”

“And then attempt to bribe him!?” Some gorgeous woman says before throwing her croissant at the werewolf man, “do you have no shame!? This man is a sweetheart! A hero!”

Suddenly multiple nobles are throwing their food or drinking glasses at the man. Red, angry magic begins to flow out of his skin. You are struggling to contain your laughter- how in the hells Astarion managed to pull this off is a mystery to you, but you are enjoying every moment.

“Fifty years! We’ve been married fifty years!” the unknowing widow cries, “you aren’t my Daniel!”

“Of course I a-“

Astarion looks positively annoyed that the woman has stolen his spotlight and is causing the Marqui to panic even more- you had heard rumors that the Marqui had been abnormally affectionate with his wife as of late and referring to her as “My Marquess”. That poor woman has to be so confused.

“GUARDS!!!!!” Astarion screams, “THERE’S AN IMPOSTER TRYING TO FOOL A DEVASTATED WIDOW!”

“WIDOW!?”

Leave it to Astarion to find the worst way to tell a Wife she’s now a Widow.

The Marquess cries out dramatically for the crowd- well known across the town as having a flair for the dramatic. In the meantime, Wolfie is still trying to fix his blunder, but continues to fail miserably.

“Uh your name is…. Allison?”

“MORGANA! MY NAME IS MORGANA!”

The crying continues and the Marquess slaps the man staring at her with his eye twitching.

Astarion flashes the Werewolf a shit eating grin- the same grin he wears when he knows he’s caught someone in a lie. The imposter is trembling in rage, the Marquess is performing her grief with so much agony that she looks like she is going to pass out, and Astarion continues to Goad the man.

You look around the crowd with watchful eyes- the scene Astarion is making is attracting more attention by the minute. Yet he’s still incredibly charming while he throws insults in the Werewolf’s direction. All the women and men are practically swooning- if only they knew what a terrible planner he is.

“Ha!” Astarion releases a laugh of victory, “you didn’t even bother to try to find out his wife’s name? How inconsiderate- look at the poor thing- she’s devastated! Her husband is dead, she has the face of an ancient spinster, and some stinky heathen didn’t even bother to try to play the part right.”

The Marquess is definitely more upset about the comment on her looks than her husband being in the Fugue plane. She doesn’t remain sad about it for two long though because the Werewolf summons a shadow blade and shoves it between her eyes. The crowd begins to scream and run around frantically in the ballroom.

You catch the man flashing you a wicked smile through the crowd and sizing you up out of the corner of his eye before looking at Astarion. You barely hear what he says next as you make your way over.

“I’d be careful with your next move, Spawn,” the man’s voice is suddenly louder and more malicious, “it would be a shame for your lovely friend over there to develop Lycanthropy, wouldn’t it?”

Astarion waivers for a half of a second before he goes completely blank. Your stomach turns over at the statement- probably because becoming a Werewolf is one of the last things (maybe even a throw away item) on your bucket list. You aren’t sure you can become a werewolf, but you would prefer not to find out.

The werewolf and Astarion continue to face off in the middle of the room, the guards struggling to get past the sea of “innocents”.

“Well, aren’t you one to ruin the fun?” Astarion says darkly, a stark contrast to his earlier tone, “now you’ve gone and made it personal- it’s a shame, really. I was hoping we could be friends someday.”

“A disgusting creature like yourself? My friend?” Wolfie laughs bitterly as his transformation begins to take over.

“Pot,” Astarion gestures to the man before himself, “meet Kettle.”

The man lets out a hungry growl and his skin tears unnaturally. Now in full Werewolf mode- the Imposter begins to lash out at Astarion who manages to dodge every blow until Mr.Werewolf picks up a woman and flings her at Astarion- he topples over to the ground from the impact and surprise. Wolfie begins to stalk towards Astarion, licking his sharp canines as he creeps forward.

What happens next takes mere seconds, but it feels like it happens in 10 hours as your legs make their way across the gap, silver dagger in hand, before unceremoniously lodging the weapon into the Werewolf’s throat. A high pitched, pained howl escapes the werewolf’s lips as he keels over. That was so much easier than you tho-

“GUARDS!” The Duke says as the guards come running towards the scene, “THAT COUPLE NEED TO BE ESCORTED OUT OF MY HOME! Those degenerates are not supposed to be here!!”

Thought too soon.

“YOU RAT BASTARD!” Astarion yells, “you hired me to kill him!”

“Oh did I?” The Duke shoots back with a grin, “and why in the world would I waste my money on the likes of you?”

You just barely helped Astarion up from his daze when the Vampire is grabbing your wrist and dragging you through the crowd, away from the guards. Eventually he drops your wrist when you are right on his heels, but the guards really aren’t that far behind.

You follow Astarion closely as he takes sharp corners and jumps over furniture as he leads you out of the looming castle and up one of the towers. It feels like yards are being added to their escape attempt because the stairs never seem to end. You are beginning to hear the rattle footsteps of guards getting closer to you and your heart rate speeds up even more in fear.

“Star,” you manage to yell out between breaths, “what’s the plan!?”

“I’m working on it!” He yells back at you.

Astarion suddenly changes course, exiting the tower through one of the doors. You chase him across the ramparts, through another door, and try not to lose your balance as he goes sprinting right down a hallway with an open window.

His plan is to jump!?

You are suddenly being yanked into Astarion’s chest as he goes leaping out of the window- a scream of terror dies in your throat as you go plummeting towards the ground from the 80 foot drop. With a flash from Astarion’s hand- you go tumbling and you both land at the portal entry in Gale’s house.

Your head is still spinning, but Astarion is already upright and he looks furious.

“What in the HELLS WERE YOU THINKING!?” he screams, you flinch at the sound, “are you trying to get us both fucking killed!? No scratch that- are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

You don’t know how to respond. You feel frozen and small.

He sighs, “this is a mistake- I am going to write Halsin tomorrow after the wedding and see if you can’t live with him for a while.”

“What!?” You sound even more shattered than you thought you would, “Astar-“

“No,” he begins to stalk towards the door, “you can-“

“YOU USE TO TAKE ME EVERYWHERE!” You scream at the top of your lungs, not wanting him to keep bowling you over in this conversation, “and now what!? I’m boring- I’m not enough? What is it!? Because you are not sending me away like I’m a child! We are EQUALS!”

Astarion looks at you and for the first time all week- you finally see him again. He looks broken all over, like he had only left Szarr palace mere days ago instead of months. There are even tears in his eyes and you move without thinking- wrapping your arms around him- he is quick to reciprocate and hug you even tighter.

“That isn’t it,” he whispers, looking defeated, “I don’t know if I could handle losing you again- especially not now.”

“Then why are you pushing me away?” You choke on your own words, “what is going on?”

You feel him shake his head- a sign he isn’t ready to talk about it yet.

“Okay,” you sigh, “if that’s what you want, I will live with Halsin for a while.“

Fat, wet tears hit your shoulder and you know he’s thinking. About what? You aren’t sure, but you hope he is changing his mind. The last thing you want is to go live with Halsin. You want to be with Astarion and you accepted a while ago that a romantic relationship would never be in the cards for you- despite how in love with him you are.

“No, it’s not what I want. That’s probably actually the very last thing I want, but I am so worried about you that what I want doesn’t seem important,” Astarion sighs and holds you even tighter, “I will start taking contracts that you can go on again so you can keep practicing.

“And it would be nice to have you back,” he murmurs, “it’s all rather boring without you.”

“Then please stop pushing me away,” you plead and he looks at you- still holding onto each other, “I don’t know what happened, but I feel like you don’t want me around at all anymore.”

“I am… going through something personal and,” he pauses, “I just need more time before I am ready to talk about it.”

You furrow your brow and you can feel your frustration trying to get the best of you, but you have to respect his boundaries.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“I promise- I want you around,” Astarion says, wiping away the tears staining your cheeks, “more than anything and once I figure out my, uh, personal matters- I will let you know what I find.”

“Okay.”

You leave it alone- Astarion says he needs alone time.

You can’t help but feel defeated. You had hoped he had the same feelings for you when you played all of his favorite music. Obviously he doesn’t.

Alone time usually means he’s off to find someone in a brothel and probably won’t be back until the morning at the latest. He will come home smelling of someone’s cheap cologne or perfume and will surely have a story to tell about the person's bed he ended up in last night.

You feel your unwilling tears begin to flow as you sit on the couch on the balcony in the living room- your arms wrapped around your knees and your knees to your chest.

Or maybe he is meeting with someone he really really likes and doesn’t want to introduce you. Maybe that’s the personal matter- he doesn’t want to introduce her or him or them to you yet because he’s worried you are going to be an absolute freak about it and go crazy since it’s obvious you are obsessed with him.

At least you tried or at least that is what you keep telling yourself.

“Birdie! How was- wait what’s wrong!?”

Oh no, it’s Tav. You really like Tav- you do- but she is Astarion’s friend and is probably going to tell you to get over yourself.

You wave a dismissive hand, “oh nothing- just so moved by how beautiful the moon is.”

There isn’t a peep from behind you so you assume she shrugged and walked off.

“Where is Astarion?”

Nope, too good to be true.

“He is, um, having alone time.”

You don’t mean to make it sound so venomous.

“Oh? I might need some more context,” she says with an awkward chuckle, “that doesn’t sound terrible?”

You let out a huff of annoyance.

“It means he’s at a brothel or, considering our earlier conversation, he’s with a person he really likes,” you murmur under your breath.

The silence is damning.

“Why would you think that?”

So you are right- Tav sounds uneasy.

“Gods,” you hop off the couch and look at Tav with your bloodshot eyes and arms crossed, “I don’t know because I played all of his favorite songs at the park as a sort of impromptu, ‘here is a set for you! The person I care about more than anything else in the world’! Oh by the way- THIS IS A TRADITIONAL WAY A BARD PROFESSES THEIR FEELINGS!!!!

“We fall asleep in the same bed, in each other’s arms and up until the day we went fucking dress shopping- I really thought I had the right idea. Obviously…. I was wrong.”

Tav is just looking at you and she looks like she has no idea what to say to you. You just shake your head in defeat.

“Good night Tav,” you say, “I hope this can stay between us.”

You go past the shell shocked woman and go marching back upstairs to your shared room with Astarion. Tav told you that you were welcome to any room if you wanted your own, but that was when Astarion wanted you around. Maybe it’s time to take her up on the offer.

You pack your stuff together and drag it out the door towards the next room over. You catch a glimpse of Tav who looks like she’s panicking and has no idea what to do.

“Oh um that room is going to be occupied!”

You look at her lamely, “when?”

“Uh two days from now.”

“Okay,” you say flatly, “then in two days I will clean everything up for you and find an inn- if that’s alright with you.”

“You really don’t want to stay with Astarion anymore?” Tav says with a nervous chuckle, “maybe you should talk to him before you-“

“There isn’t anything to talk about Tav,” you snap, immediately regretting it, “I-I am sorry. I- please. I can’t keep humiliating myself like this.”

Tav looks extremely conflicted.

“Okay.”

***********************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x you #bg3 #karlach #astarion ancunin #astarion x f! reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav

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cometkenji · 2 days

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Virginia vampire - 1/2

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x vampire!fem!reader Cw: SLOWBURN BRO, descriptions of hunting/blood consumption, angst, fluff, non-descriptive mentions of an abusive dad, cursing, typical criminal minds violence, possible ED trigger (more in disclaimer), idk bro you tell me Summary: You escaped your scientist father when you were 17. When requested by Quantico PD to deal with a stemming serial killer, you realize you recognize the wounds. You used to be the one inflicting them. Disclaimer 1: Reader is chubby! She's not physically described here at all but a fat woman is always the MC. Disclaimer 2: Reader lives strictly on blood. This story discusses themes of intense bloodlust/hunger, UNINTENTIONAL avoidance of blood (food), and physical consequences due to not eating (more so in the next chapter). This is NOT pro-ana or anything like that, and while these themes are explicitly negative, they are still there and may affect those struggling. Please look after yourself, this is all fantasy and is not meant to trigger you. That's all <3 WC: 9.6k Like I said, please head the disclaimer as I would hate for anyone to feel negatively about this. I personally have struggled with a restrictive ED and would not write/publish anything I felt would trigger/contribute to pro-ED rhetoric. I'm actually rlly proud of this one I think it's cool and neat and I'm excited to share. I also looped eat your young by Hozier while writing this so would recommend as ambiance. Enjoy <33

The Quantico streets seemed to get darker the more you came out. It was late - technically early, as midnight had passed two hours ago - but still a time of pungent heathenism. Nobody out at this hour had good intentions. You knew yours were certainly questionable, discreetly following a man decked in club attire as he stumbled his way down the street. This was the worst part - having to stalk behind them, giving you nothing but time to humanize them in your head. He was probably going home, back to safety. The process of hiding a body is one you could recite with your eyes closed. It’s bitter and metallic, but familiar, and you seemed to project that harbored guilt onto him. It wasn’t as though he’d never see that safety again, you didn’t kill people anymore. Your unusual diet required this type of robbery, but you’d busted your ass for almost three years to figure out the perfect amount. The amount that keeps you just on the cusp of living, closer to death than most but still able to function effectively. The number of times you felt a heart cease it’s beating against your lips because you went too far would strike envy in the evilest of individuals. The amount you took was pure necessity - a full syringe, never a drop more. It would last you about half the week when rationed out. It was livable, doable, only ever being a problem if you couldn’t get more the exact night you needed to.

You hated preying on drunks, the alcohol in their blood making it taste rancid, but this was the easiest target you could ask for. Beggars can’t be choosers. He took a moment to catch his breath after he nearly toppled over, and you saw your opportunity on a silver platter. Contrary to the movies, stealth was not an inherent trait you get when you live on blood, you’d gained yours from experience. You never liked being so good at this, but as you rendered the man unconscious and silenced his fall to the ground, you relished in the fact that you were. The days of amateur hunting were long over, and the cries of people as the blood rushed from their necks are ones that echo - ones that sit with you.

You dragged the man to the innards of the closest alley, propping him against the wall and rolling up his jacket sleeve. You took off the bag hanging from your shoulders, removing a syringe and a flashlight. Since you hunted at night, it was impossible to find a vein without lighting. It was something you realized quick when you made the switch from neck to wrist. You turned the thing on, clamping it between your teeth and angling it down at his arm. Growing up with the world’s cruelest biologist as a father, you were well versed in the world of human anatomy per his insistence. You watched the vial fill with liquid, cursing your entire situation for being so despicable. The only way to properly describe your father was Frankenstein, eagerly allowing his only child to grow into the role of his monster. He’d handcrafted your DNA in a petri dish, ensuring that malice was weaved throughout your most instinctual needs. He was a well off man, respectively referred to as the brightest mind in our current age. He’d gained fame after presenting his magnum opus - the invention of literal vampirism. Somehow, something only he knew how to do, he’d made a string of DNA that derived the body’s energy from the nutrients in blood. He started with insects, impregnating beetles with the specific code, making embryos that fed purely on blood of the same species, which manifested into a hostile blood lust once the thing was born. He’d reached rodents and promised he would be ending his tests there, not wanting to breach the topic of morality and push forward with mammals. Unfortunately, your father was as honest as he was kind, so here you were.

You finished the extraction and pulled the needle from the man’s flesh, apologizing profusely under your breath. You patched him up, a bandaid over the small hole, and hid him amongst some garbage bags. Nobody out at this hour had good intentions, and you weren’t about to offer them a possible victim for whatever desire they may be looking to express. You hated that you had to hurt him at all, no matter how minimally. The least you could do was shield him from the people who truly intended harm. You tossed the now full syringe back into your bag, the flashlight following a second later, and exited the alley. The only thing that kept your feet moving was the few days of peace you would get now that you had food. Your head pounded with the feeling of blood just sitting in your bag, the body full of blood laying defenseless just a few feet away. It was a battle you fought everyday, seeing those closest to you as two separate entities - one was a person you loved, one just a plethora of functioning veins and arteries. Their lifeforce was the closest thing to ambrosia you could imagine. It’d taken you years to get control, though, and you refused to undo that for a couple minutes of gratification. You couldn’t. Losing control would grant your father the victory he ached for, and you would die before letting that happen. You rushed to walk away, choosing to propel yourself with the image of his disappointed face rather than the breathing blood bag leaning on a dumpster. He’d killed your mother before you even got to know her, you refused to be the reason someone didn’t get to know their parent.

–

The BAU was an unwelcome sight when the time was five in the morning instead of your usual seven. You’d been ushered to the building by a sleep deprived JJ, spouting off different remarks of remorse for the early hour but needing the team there immediately. The whole table seemed to share in the disdain, as half of them could barely hold their eyes open and the other half were practically chugging shitty break-room coffee. Aaron was, surprisingly, the last to walk in. Greeting everyone with attempted normalcy while visibly fighting off his own exhaustion. His hair was messy, his torso lacking the coverage of his uniform baggy blazer. The sight of him slightly unkempt from the spontaneity of the gathering caused the air to flee from your lungs. You’d had a bit of a staring problem since you started working here, but his appearance now displayed a casualness that was making you dizzy. The deviation from his standard presentation felt strangely intimate, a more personal version of him. You looked away quickly, you had to. He took his spot next to you, having reserved that place for himself when you were first hired. He greeted you personally once he sat down, something for just the two of you. You had looked at him, about to reciprocate when JJ officially started the meeting.

“Good morning, everyone. I’m sorry for the early start but we’ve been urgently requested by our local PD. They think we’ve got the start of a serial killer, three bodies were found last night with the same MO.”

“Three bodies?” Morgan’s words were laced with bewilderment. “As in three people were actually killed or three bodies were dumped?” The table knew what he was getting at. Three murders in a single night was quite the task. Especially considering the police had to find the bodies, meaning no pedestrian had seen anything worth reporting.

“They’ve left the crime scenes untouched for us, but they’re betting all of them happened in the same time span.”

As if he could read your mind, Hotch asked the main question that’d been circling your mind. “How are they being killed?”

“That’s why we’ve been asked for.” JJ started distributing files containing the crime scene details. “All the victims so far have the same stab wound in their carotid. Nothing had been stolen, and they were all found in alleyways. For the amount of blood that comes with puncturing an artery, there wasn’t a drop found at the scene.”

“No signs of torture?” Morgan was looking at the photos as he asked, double checking the information he was reading in the file.

“All of them were basically untouched from the neck down. There weren’t even indications of defense.” JJ shook her head as she spoke. “This guy definitely gets the jump on them.”

“A blitz attacker.” Prentiss concluded, closing her file as she reached the end of it. “Any witnesses?”

“None.” The worst answer JJ could have. “Police found them while on patrol.”

“Alright.” Hotch stood from his seat. “Prentiss, Morgan, I want you at the first scene.” The agents nodded at the orders, exiting the room to complete the task. He looked towards Spencer, drawing his attention away from the file as he addressed him. “When Rossi gets here I want you guys at the second body.” The man just uttered a “got it” and looked back down, waiting on Rossi’s presence to start moving. Aaron’s eyes made their way to you. “I want you with me. We’re gonna go meet the officers at the latest discovery.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, feigning preoccupation with closing your folder and simply muttering a noise of agreement before standing.

“I told the press to keep it quiet. Last thing we need is word of a mini spree leaking to the public.” JJ informed the remaining people of this on her way out, peeking her head back through the door to say it before returning to her office. You watched Rossi finally show up and retrieve Reid from the conference room as you were leaving, heading to the car with Aaron close behind.

Once you were buckled into the passenger seat, you started talking. “Three bodies in under twelve hours. Haven’t heard those numbers since the Barly Butcher in ‘64.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t reach that.” His eyes, although you couldn’t see them, went slightly vacant at the thought. He couldn’t imagine dealing with that level of killer in the modern age - he certainly didn’t want to. “One was too many. God knows we don’t need a Quantico butcher.”

You couldn’t imagine either. “No kidding.” The drive wasn’t shaping up to be a long one, seven minutes went by and you were already approaching the flashing lights of cop cruisers. You got out of the car, the sheriff swiftly coming over to talk. She had thanked you for taking the case, grateful that her precinct wouldn’t be dealing with this one alone. There were CSI already there, but you slid gloves on your hand and headed towards the body regardless. They were respectful, allowing you control of the scene, walking away as you got closer to give you space.

You turned the woman’s neck slightly to get a better view of the injury, the image shaking the ground beneath your feet and causing the water in your tear ducts to form a haze over your eyes. There were teeth marks around the incision. Such a minor indent that it was no surprise it went over looked. You could see it because you’d once been the cause of such a thing. The closer you examined, the more parallels you drew to your beginner days. The skin around the wound was curling upwards, a sign of applied suction. No wonder they couldn’t find any blood, it’d been sucked out. You nearly fell off your feet from where you were crouching. The unsub clearly knew enough about the human body to inflict such a precise cut, pair that with the obvious motivation to feed and you got the bone-chilling realization currently seeping through you. He’d made another one. You had a sibling, and he was hungry.

–

When the regroup was called back at headquarters, you lead an uninformed and slightly confused Aaron to meet the rest of the team. He’d noticed your determination at the scene, questioning your findings and being eager to get back when you made him wait to hear about it. You wasted no time as you entered the room, pulling up the image on the big screen to properly show them your theory.

“The unsub is drinking their blood.” Looks of defeat and absurdity were present in all of their eyes, but you continued explaining, zooming in so close that the image went slightly blurry. “If you look close enough there are teeth prints around the wound, not bite marks, but the type of print you get from resting your teeth around the wound and applying pressure. The edges of the wound are curling in and up, so it can be assumed some type of suction followed the stabbing.” Most of the team was squinting at the screen, absorbing the details you pointed out and already trying to form a timeline, a motive - something. “That’s why they couldn’t find any blood. It was consumed.”

“So we’re dealing with a vampire?” Morgan sighed, his eyes detailing a reluctant belief. He couldn’t argue with your theory yet, it was the only logical thing they had. “Maybe we should visit your dad, Y/n.”

You scoffed at the quip, images of the man throughout your early life flashing through your head. “Funny.” You furrowed your brows at him. “You’d have to find him first.” You had slipped from his grasp when you were seventeen. The home you spent your childhood in was vacant a few years later, effectively severing all your remaining knowledge of his life. You’d never had any way to contact him, only the relics of his stories that refused to leave you. The only thing he ever spoke about was himself, and most of his tales were burned into your memory like a branding. If you were honest, you’re surprised he’d never physically branded you, he’d surely thought about it. The dread started to build in your gut. You handled most cases with a healthy distance, some could regard it as a coldness but you preferred the simplicity of your process. This, however, was impossible to deal with impersonally. This threw you headfirst into a situation you had never bothered to prep for. Not only would you be seeing how your team feels about what was essentially an early version of you, but you didn’t want to prosecute this unsub. His path was one you walked for years before acquiring the life you have now. You hadn’t been a villain, there was a high chance he wasn’t either. The bloodlust was controllable, he just needed someone to teach him. Pursuing him with the vigor of a typical unsub would wreck you. You felt protective, almost maternal. Your father had made another monster, but that didn’t have to mean they live a life of his design. You could get him out.

“Can I speak with you?” You hadn’t even noticed the analytical gaze Aaron held, too focused on your own internal spiraling. “Outside?” He motioned his head towards the hallway, instructing you to follow him.

You always felt like a kid in the principal’s office when he called you away from the team. “What’s up?” You hadn’t even waited for him to fully shut the door before you prompted the conversation. You were fully prepared to raise hell and high water to find your unsub, and you needed all the time you could get.

“Is something going on?” He always took extra time to check on your wellbeing. You figured at first it was pity, some type of undermining or an indication he thought you were less equipped for the job than others. He’d never hinted at any of those, always showing genuine concern for you, and eventually you stopped thinking he had ulterior motives. “You’ve been skittish and antsy since you saw the body. You’re speaking faster and can’t look me in the eyes. You’re nervous. Why?”

“Hotch.” You sighed his name, and he tilted his head, leaning in slightly as though pulled in by the sound. “I am nervous. There were three people murdered last night. If this guy is drinking the blood of his victims seconds after he kills, there’s no predicting how long the cool-down will be. He could strike again tonight or he could be gone for weeks. I don’t want more people losing their lives because we waited around too long. I need to figure this out.”

He could tell you were withholding something, you saw it in the way he looked at you. Thankfully, though, he allowed you to keep your secret. Breathing out a sigh of his own and just nodding. “You know where to find me if you want to talk.”

You held back the look of pure adoration you wanted to send his way, settling for the appropriate neutrality. “I know.”

You both rejoined the team shortly after, ignoring the curious looks of your coworkers and instead inserting yourself into the conversation. Reid went over the typical blood fetishists, along with the multiple philias and phobias associated with blood consumption. All of them falling flat in one way or another. You suggested swabbing the victim’s neck for traces of saliva, Prentiss calling to request the task be performed the second you’d said it. With hours going by and the promise of lab results by tomorrow, you all said your goodbyes. You said a silent prayer under your breath for a body-less night and drove home with a plan. If he was like you, he’d be out again tonight, and you had every intention of finding him.

–

This was the first time in your life you’d ever felt thankful for your knowledge of nightlife. Patrol was amping up, tonight it was one too many cop cars on the street. Tomorrow it could be officers searching the area on foot. With no way to predict the criminal, there was also no way to predict the response, and that was scary as hell. Any attempts they were making to stop him from feeding would affect you just as bad. There hadn’t been a single event since you started hunting more ethically that you’d had to break routine. You wanted to help him, but you also needed to stop him from fucking up your regimen. You were wandering, aimless and anxious. You tried connecting to whatever energetic wavelength you might have with him considering your partial relation, getting nothing but a firm reminder of why that stuff wasn’t considered fact. You ducked away from the second police cruiser of the night, just barely evading the lights before their illumination painted your face red and blue. The alley was a welcoming partner, allowing her shadows to drape over you and create a solitude unique to that darkness. You’d heard the noises a second later - panting, consistent and ragged, followed by a period of silence before resuming. You clicked on your flashlight, shining it maybe ten feet ahead of you and feeling like someone threw sand in your eyes. He was here, dressed in jeans and a black zip-up, hood over the back of his head. You wouldn’t have been able to see him even if his hood was down - he was crouched over a woman, shoulders hunched and mouth greedily stealing what little life she had left to give. He was so small, you physically felt your lips curl in sorrow when you realized he couldn’t be more than fifteen. The woman’s fingers were still flexed, and you assumed she’d died less than a minute ago by her arm placement. They were crooked at the elbow but weirdly resting on the assailant, as though she’d been gripping his shoulders before her strength blew out with the wind.

You waited, just a moment, stilling to see what move - if any - he would make. He was completely entrenched in his task, but you were surprised your light hadn’t set him off yet. It was only when the river ran dry that he seemed to notice your voyeurism. His head snapped in your direction so fast that you jumped on your feet a little. You thought back to how volatile you’d been in his shoes, deciding the best way to approach him would be that of a rabid animal. You inched closer, seeing him mirror you with a slight back-step.

“Hey.” You talked quietly, breathily, trying to subdue any dominant undertones you could be carrying. “I need you to listen to me, ok?” You crouched, hoping to put the two of you on the same level. “I know you’re not trying to hurt anyone. You’re hungry, yeah? You’re hungry and I know it fucking hurts. Worse than you ever imagined it could.” You thought back to the days of captivity. Your father made you the absolute pinnacle of gluttony, feeding you even when you finally didn’t want it, engorging you with the only thing you could sustain yourself with. Going from a state of constant overflow to barely a drip-feed was agony, causing fits of hunger so extreme that it was a miracle he hadn’t hit double digits by now. “I can help you, alright? I’ve been there. It doesn’t have to be this way - I promise it’s manageable.” You really should have planned some sort of script for this, you were winging it and from the accusatory look he was wearing, you didn’t think it was working.

You asked if he knew your father, hoping to establish some reputability in his mind and prove you knew what you were talking about. The name, though, seemed to hit him like a bullet. He took off running and blew past you so fast it knocked you over. You jumped up as quick as you’d been put down and set off after him. The kid was fast, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you lost him. He had the advantage of being half your height in a city full of narrow shortcuts. You pleaded with him in between breaths to just listen to you, promised you didn’t want to hurt him, all of it was futile. He ducked into a subway and slipped from your grasp before you even knew you had him. Your eyes teared up from frustration, so close to being the saving grace you were desperate to be but just managing to graze it before it leaped away from you. You felt the toll of such a run immediately sodden your legs and weaken your lungs. You didn’t have nearly enough fuel in the tank to give chase, but what were you supposed to do? You’d seen him, almost had him before the acidity of your fathers name melted all the progress you were making. Fitting, you thought. You slipped your phone out of your pocket, you were still an agent who had just found a body. Another victim in a string of serial killings; if you didn’t report it and were traced at all back to the scene you could be fired - or arrested. Hotch’s contact burned a hole straight through your pupils. How the fuck were you gonna explain this? You just happened to be on a classic midnight walk alone as a woman in the city currently housing a vampiric serial killer. You could almost hear the crease of his eyebrows as you told him where you were, requesting the team be awoken and the local PD be sent to you. You’re sure he could hear the ball in your throat as your vision got watery again. He promised he’d be there soon, telling you to hang tight. He was comforting, but there was a determination in his voice that told you he wasn’t letting it go this time. You didn’t know how to prepare for whatever that meant, but you knew some worms would be leaving the can.

Ten minutes later and you heard the familiar shout of your last name. “What the hell happened?” Morgan seemed worried you’d been attacked, scanning over you to check for any signs of injury. He wouldn’t find anything but your rapidly rising chest.

You watched the EMTs wheel away the woman in a body bag, locking your gaze on Derek when you started to feel nauseous. “I’m fine.” You crossed your arms, rationalizing that maybe a physical security would grant you the strength needed to conceal this mess. “I live right up the road. I go out walking sometimes when I can’t sleep. I just saw the body in the alley, guy was gone by the time I found her.”

He seemed relieved at your avoidance but also completely floored by the stupidity of walking so late. “Stop walking alone at night.” He was clearly protective. “That's why some of these cases are even possible.” He looked at you, taking your story as truth without a second thought and letting a sense of mourning flood his irises. “I don’t know how I’d cope with having to put you in one of those bags.” How charming. “You get me?”

You looked at him, putting on a face of regretful understanding and simply uttered back a quiet “I got you.” to hopefully dodge all the attention he was giving you.

He chuckled, looking behind you and gaining a sort of cringe in his smile. “Good luck with that.” He nodded towards whatever was approaching and joined the congregation of other agents and officers, essentially isolating you with the thing you’d been dreading most. Aaron Hotch.

“Aaron-” You turned around to face him but stopped talking when you saw the look he cast at you. Something so curious and pleading for the knowledge you withheld, he seemed to manually dim it with the aspect of his authority. He was your supervisor, but he cared for you as something deeper than that.

“We’re heading back to the BAU. I want you in my office when we get there. We need to talk about this.” He waited a second, letting the unusual professionalism sink into you before seeking confirmation. “Am I clear?” He was gentle in delivery, but the fear you’d betrayed him weighed heavy on you.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, looking at him. He wasn’t mad, and you didn’t regret the decisions that got you here. Your mind was simply racing with any plausible lie you could tell him to escape this situation unscathed. He knew you better than you were even aware of, you didn’t know if you could get away with lying at all, let alone lying in excess. You just prayed he was feeling particularly forgiving, along with hoping he was especially tired due to the hour. If you lucked out, you might only have to relinquish your integrity instead of the truth.

–

The sound of his door closing felt like the final sign of your demise. He hadn’t slammed it, he’d shut it gently and moved to sit opposite you in his office chair. You couldn’t remember a time he’d been genuinely angry with you. Right now he simply reeked of desperation, of empathy, and it was that notion that kept your eyes from meeting his.

“What’s going on, Y/n?” He was so soft, the tone of his voice combing through your ears like hypnotism. You were so fucking guilty.

You stared at his name card and wondered immaturely how it would feel to share a surname with the man. “I told you what happened.”

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “You told them what happened.” You begged him internally to just leave it alone. “Now I’m asking you to talk to me. You can’t even look at me. You seem to think that because you can conceal the standard signs of lying that nobody can tell. You slip past their radar because they don’t know your tells, Y/n.” Your heart sped up, he’d probably known you were keeping something from him before you’d even made the choice to. “The top of your middle finger covers your index when you’re lying or when you’re not telling me something, you know that? Every single time. You haven’t held a conversation in the past week without doing it.” He clasped his hands on the table, readjusting to really focus on you. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Something about him always had a way of wearing you down. You’d been smothering the feelings you held for him for years, so when he showed such devotion to you, he could wring you out like a sponge with just a sentence. You visibly deflated, shoulder slumping forward. “I saw him.”

He straightened, assessing how to tackle a statement like that. “You saw the unsub?” You just nodded. “Do you know how important that information is?” He seemed bewildered, even a little angry at the fact you didn’t tell them. “You know better than most how significant every sighting is. Why would you ever keep something like that from us?” He was speaking slightly faster, confused frustration filling his words as he continued. “It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt, Y/n. This was extremely reckless, I don’t understand how you could-”

“Hotch.” You’d never had to speak over him before. “He’s my family.” The words were coated in bile as they left you - this was a steep slope. You hadn’t anticipated sharing even that piece of information, your family history was far too close to your less than common genetic misfortune to ever be talked about.

“...What?”

Your eyes teared up. You were going to tell him, and you were also going to cry. “I have to tell you something.” You felt the quiver of your lips, heard the shake of your voice as it circled the air. What the fuck were you thinking?

“My father - um…lied to the public about his testing. He promised everyone that he would stop at mice, but he didn't plan on actually doing that.” You shook your head in tune with your words, speaking slowly as you thought of how to drop this bomb and cause the least amount of damage. “He kidnapped a woman, my mother. At that point he’d figured out a way to implement the DNA strand he was using on rodents into human sperm, and he managed to get her pregnant with it.”

His face went slack, an emotion reaching far beyond shock, beyond disbelief. “You mean…?”

“It’s not vampirism in the cinematic sense, Aaron. We don’t burn in the sun or have heightened senses or speed. It’s just a cruel mutation. Human blood is the only substance our body can process.”

“You - you keep saying ‘we’.” He was frantic, you didn’t blame him. “Are there more?”

“Just the unsub.” The look in your eyes was begging for acceptance, for empathy and tenderness. You hadn’t even expected him to believe you, but now you feared the possibility of him running for the hills and spilling your secret to anyone he came across. “He’s the only one I know of. I didn’t expect my father to do it again.”

“Jesus Christ.” You concealed a laugh at how expressive the confession was making him. You knew it was the worst possible time, but you’d never seen him so human. “Is this - I mean how do you live, Y/n? Are you killing people?” You understood the accusation, but that didn’t dilute the sting of it as it hit your ears.

“No, Aaron. God, no.” You rushed out a denial before he could think too hard on it. “It took me years to figure out the bare minimum I could live on, ok? It’s two full syringes a week, nobody ever dies. Ever.” He seemed out of it, you didn’t know how to gauge whether this was a good or bad reaction. You’d never told anybody. How did you even proceed in a situation like this? “Look, I know, ok? This is fucking crazy, but you can’t tell the team.” He widened his eyes at you slightly like the thought of not telling them was wilder than anything you just told him.

“You can’t seriously expect-”

“Aaron.” You were on the brink of losing your breath. “I’m not a threat. I’ve worked here for years. I’ve lived with this my entire life and I have control. We need to focus on finding the boy and that won’t happen if they know.”

“Boy?” He furrowed his eyebrows deeper than you’ve ever seen. “He’s- It’s a kid?”

You thought back to the encounter. You could cup him in your palms. “He has to be. He’s tiny, fourteen or fifteen I’d say.” You nearly broke as you thought of the child he’d never get to be.

“There’s no protocol for this, Y/n.” This was one of the first times you’d seen him speak with his hands. “I don’t even know how to approach it anymore. It’s hard enough dealing with a child unsub when they’re human. How do you suggest we deal with a vampire?”

“Hotch.” Your eyes held disappointment. He was coping with the situation, and you knew that, but his words still didn’t sit right with you. “He is human. A very scared and lost human boy. My dad overfed me as a kid, wanting to disable the signal that tells you when it’s enough. It’s why he’s killing so many, he must have recently broken out. You get…I don’t know, insatiable. You start and don’t know when to stop, it's just blind instinct. He doesn’t want to be hurting people.”

“You speak from experience.” You didn’t want to tell him he was missing the point, but there certainly wasn’t a mutual focus between the two of you.

“Nobody’s perfect, Aaron.” You spoke with tears lining your eyes, your past was the most shameful thing you carried with you. “I need to find him. I can help him.”

He sighed, baffled and exhausted at the entire situation. He nodded soon after. “I won’t tell them.” You felt the increase in oxygen as you practically gasped in relief.

You stood up, stopping with your hand on the doorknob. Were you running? Yes, most definitely. But he wasn’t speaking and you couldn’t imagine he wanted to stay in your company. “I promise I’m not a monster.” You didn’t quite know if you were trying to convince him of this, or if you were hoping to affirm what he was already thinking, but it was the only thing you could think to say.

He just stared at you, eyes vacant but clearly attempting to imitate the warmth that would normally reside there. “Goodnight, Y/n.” It was such a familiar phrase that it nearly made you puke from the comfort flooding your body. You scoffed at the casual nature of the remark in the face of such an unusual time, but were still unfathomably thankful for it.

“Goodnight, Aaron.”

–

Three days later, and you were really feeling the distance. He stopped the routine of checking in - he stopped speaking almost entirely. He spoke of you, giving you orders or assigning your assistance to others but never talking directly to you. He used to pull you aside sometimes just to ask about your day, now he wouldn’t even look at you. The bodies had only been piling, patrol increasing night by night all hell bent on catching the so-called ‘virginia vampire.’ The absolute last thing you needed was a media wave of infamy to drown the boy, but there was no stopping the press once they were off and running. You doubted it made a difference, internet access was fully forbidden within the iron fist that was life with your father. You were hopeful some type of DNA could be pulled from the bodies, as the clean up was nonexistent and some of the necks had still been wet upon police arrival, but you got nothing. Or rather, nothing within the system. Garcia had compared the results of the sample to every database in the country - sometimes branching beyond that - but nothing proved useful. It was foolish to be disappointed, obviously your father wouldn’t have registered the baby of his hostage with the required legal standards. You hadn’t even known what you wanted to find, but the presence of absolutely nothing was crushing.

With the new surveillance demands your local PD wanted to meet, the BAU ended up pitching in to night monitor with them. It wasn’t difficult by any means - just tedious. You sat in turned off cop cars for most hours of the night while trying to ignore the persistent burn of hunger that was lighting up your stomach. You knew it’d been too long since you went out, but you were out of luck. People weren’t on the street hardly at all, and even if there was a small population to prey on, the cops breathing down your neck made it nearly impossible. You’d been paired up with Morgan for the last two nights you’d done this, time moving faster with him there to entertain you. Needless to say, sitting in the dead silence of the Quantico pm with Hotch was not what you were anticipating when you came for your shift tonight. You were only two feet away from him, but you could almost gaze into the sinkhole that sat between you two. Cold and dark, brutally reminding you that you’d volunteered for this abyss when you spilled your guts. You stopped yourself from shifting in your seat as another contraction of hunger pulled at your abdominal muscles. You knew that if someone were looking, they’d be able to notice the decline in your recent performance. You were slower, more zoned out, antsy, irritable. You were good at suppressing those things, confident in your ability to conceal them, but you had a feeling the man beside you could tell. He’d been looking at you all night, analytical and lukewarm, letting the start of a conversation sit just on the tip of his tongue. The silence, though, was taking it’s toll on you. It seemed to morph into a ringing that bounced between your ears like it was determined to slip into your skull and bury itself there. You realized you would take the most awkward conversation over a night of partnered solitude.

You wrestled with what to say, deciding to stick with your streak of brutal honesty. “Will you ever wanna talk to me again?”

He sniffed, continuing to stare forward like he was expecting the question. “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/n.” You didn’t know either.

You took a moment to mentally gawk at his words, tripping over them in your attempt to process the answer and decide how to respond appropriately. “Anger?” You felt yourself ramp up slightly, your hands moving as you spoke. “Resentment? Sadness? I mean… you’ve just been cold and I can’t work with that, Aaron.” You looked at him, mouth slightly open as you laid your helplessness out for him to see. “I need something.”

“I just-” He shrugged, shaking his head while figuring out the words he needed to say. “You can’t expect me to adjust to that information in three days. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you.” It was deeper than that. You both held a sort of mutual understanding that these lumps weren’t as surface level as confusion. The woman he’d been infatuated with for years had confessed she lived on the blood of her fellow man, how the hell do you act after learning that?

You tried your hardest to be empathetic towards his situation. You’d lived with this arrangement your entire life, so it was hard to put yourself in the shoes of shattered expectation, but you tried. It hurt to hear him refer to you like you were a different entity all of a sudden - but to him, you were. “So ask me. Ask me any question you can think of. If you want to know something, I’ll tell you. I just can’t stand the silence, Aaron.” You put your hand to your forehead as you relaxed into your seat. “I miss you. I’m the same person I was a week ago.”

You heard him sigh and shift to be leaning forward slightly. “Do you have a…” He trailed off for a second, searching for the way to put it that would ensure you understood his question. “You know, a bloodlust? Do you feel what the kid is feeling?”

The air solidified in your lungs. Yes, you absolutely fucking did. However, you weren’t going to sit there and profess your never ending homicidal urges to a man who was already struggling to accept your bare minimum. You weren’t going to scare the man you cared for more than you already had. “Um…you could call it that, I guess. I do know what he’s feeling right now, but I don’t live in his mindset anymore. It gets less the more you live with it.” You weren’t lying, per say. It truly did get easier to manage, you were simply omitting the follow up of still being a bottomless pit for the substance. Just because you weren’t enslaved to it anymore didn’t mean the constant possibility wasn’t a part of your very being.

He looked over at you, and in the dim glow of the street light his eyes seemed fuller, pupils rivaling puddles of tar. “What does it feel like?”

Your lips parted to let out your breath as it elevated slightly. The car seemed to humidify in the moments between his last question and now. Was he actually asking that? “It feels like…this-” Jesus Chist how did you even put words to it? “this constant…pulsing…in your gums.” You thought back to the haze it used to cast over your mind. You could barely think clearly when you first got out, focused on stealing the life force from beneath the skin of others. “Your whole body just fucking aches for it.” The eye contact between you and him was searing past your eyes and sinking into your soul itself. It was different than any way you’d looked at him before, so full of remorse and pure want that you’re surprised he didn’t laugh at your patheticism.

You caught quick movement draped in a shadow from your peripheral and were knocked back into your actual purpose. You and him both exited the car, creeping up to the spot previously occupied by the figure. You didn’t see him, simply felt the force of him pelt past you and crash into your shoulder. You, to your surprise, held your footing and were running after him a second later. Hotch was just behind you, both of you sprinting desperately to catch the boy. But, just like the last time you’d walked this path, the nimbleness of his smaller frame won almost effortlessly against the two of you, and you lost him. This time, you’d lost yourself right after. You felt the nonexistent padding of concrete on the sidewalk bruise your body before you even registered you’d fallen over. The world wasn’t fading, you were very awake and very aware of the pain spreading to your entire right side. You determined - rather quickly - that your legs had just given out from lack of proper energy. The embarrassment of doing this in front of Hotch severely trumped the pain of hitting the ground.

“Jesus.” You heard the concerned mumble come from him as he crouched down to your level. “Are you ok?”

You said you were fine, but oxygen seemed to adopt the weight of a semi-truck and it got harder to accept the necessity into your body. You simply told him to stand up, following his lead and rising from your position with difficulty you hadn’t faced before. Your legs failed you for the second time, though, and you fell back onto your knees with a small sob of exertion being expelled from your chest. He crouched back down, stabilizing himself on his knees and letting you lean against him when you couldn’t hold yourself up.

“Y/n.” The shame of your current situation kept your eyes from his, only looking at him when he forced you to. “When was the last time you ate?”

You just shook your head, weakly trying to free yourself from his hands but failing. “Patrol’s been so high I just couldn’t - “ You sniffed slightly, gasping lightly as breathing became harder to do than the chase you just gave. “I couldn’t get out.”

He muttered ‘ok’ under his breath a few times, seemingly coming to terms with something, looking around in all directions before rolling up his shirt sleeve. The implication of the action registered instantly and you began squirming away from him. Mumbling words of disagreement that you knew he could hear.

“I can’t, Aaron. I can’t drink straight from the source - I can’t stop.” You felt your lips tremble as you recalled the feeling of impending doom clashing messily against the rush of excitement that coursed through you at the possibility. You hadn’t known that specific cocktail in years, you thought you’d go the rest of your life without feeling it again. “I can’t - please.”

“Well -” He started, pulling up his pant leg in search of the small switchblade he started carrying after being disarmed one too many times. “If we don’t do this, you’ll lose consciousness. That means they’ll take you to the hospital on an IV and you’ll have to explain why none of the nutrients are helping you.” You were so fucked. He was right, a rock and a hard place didn’t even break the surface of your situation. This was hell.

Your vision went blurry as the water in them doubled in quantity. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t.” Bastard.

“Aaron-”

“You’re practically catatonic, Y/n.” He let energy surge through the response, saying it more as an exclamation than a statement. “I’m not watching you die and I’m not letting you out yourself to some random workers because you’re scared. You need blood.” He positioned the knife away from any major arteries and dug deep, exhaling slightly at the sting. Softening his voice, he looked to you again, and moved his wounded wrist slightly closer to you.“Just let me help you.” You watched it run off his wrist and swore you felt the impact of the drops as they fell like a phantom pressure lighting up your skin. He was breathing heavy, you didn’t know if you were breathing at all; only being able to gauge the depth of your existence by how badly you needed what he was offering. You hadn’t felt yourself accept the invitation, only tasted the poison of it all once it bypassed your lips. You wondered if this was how Eve had felt when she succumbed to the serpent. If so, you didn’t blame her. You would have condemned all of humanity for this feeling too. It hadn’t ever felt this personal, this euphoric. You fed on strangers, never on someone who held as much importance as him. This trampled the idea of simply knowing him, this was a bond you could never backstep. It was done, and it was terrifying. The warmth he always seemed to emanate infested in you from the inside-out, beaming through your entire body and fending off any destruction being done by the famished vines winding around you. He held you against him as it happened, safe and welcoming, and it made a heat line your stomach with such intensity that it teased the idea of burning right through you.

He wallowed in the feeling for a few minutes, only stopping the exchange when he felt his head become too heavy for his neck to hold. “Enough, enough.” His way of tapping out, the words making you detach immediately with a slight gasp that prompted your panting breath. You realized he was panting too, eyes slightly wide and skull resting uncomfortably against the brick wall that sat behind him as he recovered. You assumed your face was painted with the horror that was flooding your system, but he couldn’t see the extent of the expression in the darkness surrounding you. “Does it always-” He was cut off by the approaching vehicles of your team and other officers. It was time for a shift change, and you felt a small sob intertwine with your exhaling breath and extend to the air around you. With your newly acquired strength, you got up and limped to the closest cop car. You forced away the urge to cry as you asked the officer to take you home, claiming an urgent need to check on your pets. Just add lying to an officer to your list of sins committed in the last 24 hours. You watched your team congregate around the still bleeding Hotch and bit your tongue. His actions had been so instinctual, so automatic in the way he rose to the occasion. He’d given you something nobody ever had, and you weren’t sure you would ever be looking at him again.

–

In the week that had dragged by since then, bodies were being found significantly less than they were. You’d successfully halted all interaction between your boss and you - which is much easier said than done - and had essentially treated him as though he didn’t exist. It hurt him - visibly - and you despised being the one to instill such a wounded haze to his eyes, but you couldn’t help it. No amount of oral hygiene procedures could singe the taste of him off your tongue. If you let the thoughts linger in your mind too long, you could almost feel the flow of his blood cascading down your throat. It threw you so effortlessly back to your freshly escaped fledgling days that it fucking horrified you how badly you wanted it. You really should have assumed that consuming the blood of someone you treasured would dramatically increase the craving. You weren’t prepared, not even slightly, and that would certainly manifest into some less than work appropriate advances should you acknowledge your boss again.

The lack of frequent bodies unfortunately didn’t reduce the amount of cops on the street, but you’d managed to slip back into your routine. It was about ten times harder than it used to be to both evade officers and find people outside but you were fed, and that was all you chose to focus on. You had left tonight’s guy under a park platform a couple blocks over, having to resort to unconventional means when hiding them post-theft. You hadn’t stopped your search for the boy, having been out every night since it started. Sometimes on the clock, sometimes off - always trying to think outside of the box. Clearly, that all proved futile, as there was a boy sitting on your front steps practically consumed by the surrounding shadows when you arrived home. You simply continued your trek, stopping maybe five feet away and giving him the space to control the situation. He looked up at you, pulling down his hood and standing to his full height. He was practically gleaming in the dim porch light, his skin seemed to reflect the moon in a way only rivaled by the finest china.

“What did you mean?” He was as timid as a mouse, looking at the ground as he spoke. “You saw me that night in the alley and you said you knew what was happening. What did you mean?”

You couldn’t say you were surprised your father didn’t inform him of your existence. Knowing the man, he would most likely deny your relation if questioned directly. “I’m like you, buddy.” You slowly let the bag on your back swing forward to a place of accessibility, grabbing the vial of the inky substance and flashing it slightly before returning it to your bag. “I’d offer you some, but I can’t imagine you’re needing it.” You swung it back to rest behind you again, settling the straps comfortably on your shoulders.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused but apprehensive, as though the motion might upset you. “You live on that?”

You chuckled at his innocence, barely being able to comprehend the pure dichotomy you were talking to. You understood it fully, but such a sweet boy holding such intense homicidal capabilities was an absurd notion. “Took me a while.” You nodded as you confirmed his question. “But yeah, about two of these a week.”

Disbelief quickly befriended the features on his face. “You aren’t…hungry?”

You looked at the boy with undiluted sympathy, you knew the feeling he hinted at well. If you were him right now, you’d have probably lashed out in a jealous rage at such an ability to control consumption. You hadn’t believed it was a livable amount until you’d contained yourself within it’s limits. “A little, I won’t lie to you. But it’s well worth it to avoid killing someone. You get used to it after a while.” He simply looked down, and you realized you might have made him slightly guilty with your wording. In an eager attempt to pivot the conversation, you told him your name, hoping to get a proper introduction from him.

“I’m Daniel.” You crouched down after he said that, wanting to open him up a little more by shrinking below his height. “You know my dad?”

You smiled at the ignorance, it wasn’t often somebody didn’t know exactly who resided on your family tree. “I do. He’s actually my dad too.” You preyed with everything in you that you were coming off as comforting, docile. You wanted him to trust you. “How old are you, Daniel?”

“Twelve.” Jesus Christ.

You tried not to let the shock ricochet along your face. You wouldn’t earn his alliance by being wobbly, you needed to be a dependent structure for him to lean on. “You’ve got me beat, kid.” He tilted his head, the meaning of your statement lost on him. “I was seventeen when I got away. Quite an impressive thing for someone your age.” Praise, you hoped, would solidify you as a place he could receive affection. He definitely wasn’t getting it from your father.

His eyes went wide, lips parted as you saw his head lean forward in response. “You escaped?” His breathing sped up, microscopic, something you wouldn’t have noticed had you worked in a different profession. “How?”

You felt the bottom of your stomach rip and release every ounce of hope you ever carried. Something wasn’t right. “How?” You questioned him rhetorically, mentally pleading that he wasn’t about to confirm your suspicion. “Are you still with him?”

He nodded his head with such casualty it broke your heart. You knew it was all he’d ever known, but seeing him have such peace with his predicament was a sight made of pure devastation. “Yeah.” He sighed out the response. “He says there’s no use in running away. That if I decide to just stay out one night, he knows how to find me.” You notice his averted eyes, a sudden embarrassment becoming evident in his stance. “I’ve…kinda been too scared to see if that’s true or not.”

“Why don’t you come in?” It took all the effort you had to suppress the desperation begging to penetrate the look you were giving him. “I can protect you, Daniel. He’s not as tough as he pretends to be.” In all honesty, you didn’t know if that was true. He’d never sent you out on hunts when you were younger. He gave you any indulgence you wanted, absolutely trampling your hunger cues and making you a nightmare on anyone with a pulse once you finally broke out. You figured it was a fail safe for if you were ever on your own. He couldn’t have you, but you would start piling bodies and would eventually be put down when they traced it back to you. You didn’t understand his game plan here. Why did he suddenly want a high body count? Had he been starving Daniel out just to set him loose like some feral bull?

He frantically shook his head, stepping away from you slightly and waving you off. “No, I need to go back.” He started tearing up, remembering the true reason he’d stepped foot on your lawn at all. “I need you to help me, Y/n.” He swiped at his nose as he bit back the tears. “You have to get rid of him.”

You felt your own eyes go watery at the ask. “I’m gonna get you out of there.”

He chuckled, light and short, puzzling you for a moment at what he could be finding humor in. “It’s not even about me.” He looked down. “I just wanna stop hurting people.”

You covered the tremble in your lips in a pathetic attempt to mask the sadness that poured from you at his declaration. “I’m so sorry.”

He returned his head to the safety of his hood, refusing your apology with a shake of it. “It was nice meeting you.”

You stared at him, every instinct you had sparking with the urge to shield him. Absorb him into the atoms that made you up and let live through your screen of security. But you couldn’t, so you just sniffed, reigning in any emotion that slipped from your grasp during the conversation and sealing it back inside. “I’ll see you soon.” And then he was walking away, turning slightly to offer a wave before resuming his role as part of the abyss around you. Only one thought remained in your head - You were gonna kill your dad.

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