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jollytaleswriter · 9 months

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Beach troubles H.S Chapter 1

pairing : lhh!lifeguard!harry styles x fem!reader

summary : Y/N and her friends take a day trip to the beach but things don't go as planned

warnings : fluff, bit of angst

word count : 2K+

I do not give consent for my work to be plagiarised, translated or reposted on any other platforms

harry masterlist

« God, I’m so glad we live near the beach. » Nicole exclaimed as Y/N applied sunscreen on her back.

« It’s a shame we don’t get to enjoy it everyday. I wish it was summer all year long. » Maeve’s antics was muffled due to the fact that her face was squished against the deckchair.

« Don’t be so pessimistic, it’s almost summer break and then we’ll get to come here whenever we want. » Y/N retorted as she handed the sunscreen tube to Nicole, silently asking her friend to help her out.

The conversation went on, jokes were made until a lifeguard walked up to the three friends.

He was tall and only wearing pink shorts and a pair of black flip-flops. His tattoos were on display because of how little he was wearing. His left arm was covered in ink and he had a couple more on his torso, shoulder blades as well as on his right arm. His chestnut brown hair was tied up in a bun. One could not deny how dashing he looked.

He took off his sunglasses as he greeted the three women. « Afternoon, ladies, how’s it goin’ ? »

They all replied enthusiastically to which he smiled before continuing : « ‘M just lettin’ you know that there has been reports of a jellyfish along the shore so be careful not to step on it, it can still sting even if it’s dead. »

« Can we still go swimming ? » Questionned Maeve whose brows were furrowed with concern. The last thing she wanted was for her day to be ruined.

« Sure, as far as I’m aware nobody has encountered one in the water nor was stung but better be safe than sorry. The area isn’t known to have life-threatening jellyfishes species anyway so it’s probably just a coincidence. »

The tattooed lifeguard reassured the girls for a few more minutes. He pointed to the lifeguard tower to let them know it was where they could find help if need be and, so mesmerized was she by this charming looking man that Y/N barely even registered his explanation.

Putting his sunglasses back on, the lifeguard wished them a nice day, not without a smile, and walked away as Y/N stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

Her friends’s giggles snapped her out of her daydream. « Close your mouth, Y/N, or else you’ll catch flies. » Nicole mocked.

Y/N groaned and put on her baseball cap, making her two friends snicker.

Taking in the landscape in front of her, Y/N strolled along the shore. She had came here multiple times before but it never failed to take her breath away. What made this picturesque area even more enjoyable that day is that it was surprisingly not so crowded. Plus, the sun and the warm temperature were a gentle reminder of the upcoming, well-deserved and eagerly awaited by Y/N and her friends, summer break.

It had been a while since Nicole, Maeve and Y/N had had a proper holiday because uni kept them busy but now that exam season was coming to an end, they intended to make the most of their summer break.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N was pulled back to reality by a burning-like sensation on the sole of her foot.

She stopped in her tracks to take a look and saw what seamed to be tentacles and the skin around them was of a purplish colour. Fearing the worst, she scanned her surroundings until the very thing the lifeguard had warned about caught her eye : a jellyfish.

She rushed back to her friends, hissing at each step because of the pain.

« Girls, I have a problem ! » She squealed while Maeve and Nicole sat on their deckchairs, concern written all over their faces.

« I got stung by a jellyfish ! » Y/N moaned and pointed to her foot.

Maeve and Nicole stared at their friend’s injured foot and they tried to keep a straight face but Nicole was the first to burst into laughter, soon followed by Maeve.

Y/N dramatically let herself fall on the third chair and moaned : « It’s not funny, it fucking hurts. »

« Sorry, it’s just that the sexy lifeguard literally warned us about that not even an hour ago. » Nicole managed to choke out in between laughter.

« Serioulsy though, you need to have it checked and taken care of. You can’t risk getting complications. Stay here, I’ll get someone. » Maeve said and before Y/N had the chance to answer ; her friend was off to get help.

« Hey, don’t worry, surely he’s used to shit like this happening. » Nicole reassured but it did not do much to soothe Y/N’s embarrassment.

This most definitely was not how she had imagined to catch his attention.

« Hello again. »

Y/N turned around so as to face whoever was speaking and she was met with the smiley face of the lifeguard standing next to Maeve with his hands on his hips. He was not aggravated at all, after all he faced situations like this everyday.

« So how did that happen ? » He asked, kneeling in front of Y/N after he had put down the first aid kit.

« I was walking on the shore and I got distracted so I stepped on it. »

The man hummed and asked Y/N to lay back so he could sit next to her. He patted his lap, signaling her to rest her injured foot on it. Then, he put on a pair of disposable gloves and grabbed a fine tweezer from the kit and explained what he was about to do.

After taking a good look at the sting, he proceeded to pluck out the tentacles as gently as possible but no matter how thoughtful he was being, she couldn’t help her foot to twitch because of the burning sensation.

He held her firmly in order not to do anything that may worsen the situation.

His brows were furrowed, proof of his focus and conscientiousness.

Y/N managed to distract herself from the pain by observing his tattoos. She saw the tiger on his thigh, that she hadn’t noticed earlier on. And the butterfly ! With every breath that he took, it looked like it was about to fly out of his belly. She couldn’t help but keep her eyes on it.

Suddenly, she felt his hand on her shoulder. Y/N realized he was done and that she had, once again, been caught ogling him. Except this time he had been the one to catch her. Which was even more embarrassing.

« Uh, sorry ? »

« Enjoying the view ? » He smirked.

« Uh ? »

« You’re staring, love. »

« Fu-shit, sorry. I was distracted. » Y/N stuttered.

« Often distracted, aren’t you ? »

She could hear Maeve and Nicole’s chuckle as the lifeguard moved her foot away from his lap and gathered all his things.

« Anyway, I removed the tentacles. ‘M gonna get a heating pad for you to put on the sting for around thirty minutes, alright ? » He explained and got up.

It didn’t take him long to come back with the promised heating pad.

He was back once again half an hour later to check up on her. « When you get home, apply hydrocortisone cream, it’ll help soothe the burn and avoid cold water and putting pressure on it. » He told Y/N and she nodded.

« ‘M Harry, by the way. »

« Y/N. »

« Nice to meet ya, Y/N. »

Harry extended his hand. Y/N took the hint and shook his hand. His skin was soft and his hand was much bigger than hers. She also made a mental note of his nails, which were covered in pink nail polish, the same shade as his shorts.

He let go of her hand.

« I hope I’ll see you around, Y/N. » He smiled and jogged towards the liefeguard tower.

« I hope I’ll see you around, Y/N. » Nicole mocked, deepening her voice to imitate Harry as soon as he was far enough not to hear them.

They all burst into laughter.

Later on, after Maeve had the chance to take a dip in the ocean, the three girls decided to go to the pharmacy to buy the cream Harry had instructed Y/N to use and then head home to get ready for the evening.

On their way, Y/N did not stop gushing over Harry.

Back to Maeve’s place, they showered and pampered themselves for their evening out.

They had agreed on a bar located not so far away from the beach. Neither of them had ever been to that bar but they figured it was the perfect occasion to try a new place. Plus, it had positive reviews on the internet.

And their expectations were not let down. It wasn’t quite at the beach but it still offered a wonderful view of the sunset. Moreover, the bar wasn’t too busy, even though the three friends could imagine that to be because of the early hour. After all, the bar closes at 1.am and it wasn’t even half past eight yet.

Nicole headed to the counter to order drinks for the three of them while Maeve and Y/N found a table.

Nicole came back giggling and before anyone had the chance to quiz her, she beamed : « The sexy lifeguard is at the bar. »

Y/N almost choked on her drink while Maeve gasped and turned around to look at Harry in perhaps what could be described as the least subtle way ever.

Y/N whisper-shouted at Maeve to be more discreet and in the process of doing so, her gaze met Harry’s, who was indeed here and looking at them. Leaning back against the counter, he sipped his drink with a smirk.

Unable to hold his gaze, Y/N turned her head away. Her cheeks were burning and her heart was racing.

« Girl, you have to go talk to him. He’s on his own. Besides, I’m sure he’s cool with you going to see him. » Nicole reasoned.

« Come on, Y/N, it’s obvious you’re dying to talk to him. » Maeve encouraged.

Y/N knew her friends were right. She did want to get to know him. From the little interaction they had had at the beach, he seemed to be a decent man and he was awfully attractive. God knows it had been a while since the last time she had been romantically involved with someone.

So, she took a large sip of her liquid courage and got up from her chair, drink still in hand. She rolled back her shoulders and strutted towards Harry. He wasn’t looking her way anymore and was now scrolling through his phone.

« Hi. »

Harry’s head shot up to face whoever was talking to him and he smiled from ear to ear when he saw Y/N.

He had let his hair down. That suited him even better than the manbun, Y/N decided.

« Hi. How’re you doin’ ? How’s your foot ? »

« Better, thanks to you. »

« ‘M just doin’ my job, love. »

Love. Y/N wasn’t really fond of being randomly called pet names but coming from Harry’s mouth, surely she could make an exception.

« Hey, handsome. » A woman pressed herself against Harry, who didn’t seem fazed. Y/N on the other hand, raised her brows at the woman’s blunt behaviour.

Harry introduced the two of them and Morena didn’t even bother to look at Y/N. From then on, the conversation was awkward for her and she felt like she didn’t belong here. Noticing her discomfort, Harry tried to include her but Morena managed to exclude her everytime.

Later on, Morena left to go out for a smoke.

« ‘M sorry for how she’s behaving. Don’t take it personnally, she can be a bit rude at times. » Harry apologized on Morena’s behalf and it was painfully obvious that he was genuinely bothered.

As a result of Morena’s absence, the conversation was flowing. That comforted Y/N into the idea that Harry’s snobbish friend was in fact the problem.

Suddenly, Y/N was pushed and the drink that she was holding spilled all over Harry’s chest before the sound of breaking glass resonated in the bar as both Y/N and Harry gasped.

There was a few seconds of silence during which everyone turned to them to see what had happened but they all dismissed it as swiftly as it had happened. Glass breaking in a bar is not a rare occurrence after all.

Then, Morena appeared from behind Y/N with a sly yet proud smirk plastered on her face.

The bartender rushed to their their side, not forgetting to grab a broom and a dustpan from underneath the counter to sweep up the broken shards.

All Y/N could do was watch, mortified and unable to move because of the embarrassment.

As soon as the glass was cleaned off the floor, Harry headed to the restroom so as to clean himself up.

Y/N watched him walk away until the sound of someone clearing their throat made her tear her gaze away from Harry.

« I think you should leave now. You’ve made enough of a mess for today. » Morena spat, her voice full of resentment.

Y/N gulped, and not wanting to overstay her welcome, obliged. She pratically ran to where Nicole and Maeve were sitting, ready to drag them out of the bar so she could go home and hide under the covers forever.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #lifeguardrry #fem reader #harry styles x reader fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles #harry styles x y/n #fanfic #fanfiction

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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Internal Affairs (Homewell)

i've been wanting to write Homewell for ages, but was having a hard time deciding exactly what i what i wanted to write, but then this idea hit me today. i ended up banging it out in a single morning, and i'm pretty happy with it! i enjoyed getting into Madelyn's head a bit. also, @xieyaohuan is 100% to blame for this. thank you for being the Homewell champion!

Summary: 18+ 2.3k homelander x madelyn. bottomlander. sublander. fingering. After Homelander and Maeve’s very public breakup, Homelander’s ego is wounded. Despite being talked into viewing the breakup as his idea by Madelyn, the rejection has left him stung and irritable. Because of this, Madelyn finds herself dealing with him storming into her office more than twice as often, pent up in every imaginable way.

She decides to take matters into her own hands, and relieve some of that stress. For both their sakes.

The knock to her office door barely counts as a formality anymore. By the time Madelyn gets halfway through her invitation of “Come in,” Homelander is already through the door, shutting it behind him. He’s wearing the same pinched expression he has been for the last week and a half, his lips pursed, brows furrowed. She bites back a sigh, bracing her hands on the edge of her desk.

“Have you seen The Source headline today?” He asks her, bristled and petulant.

“I have not,” Madelyn answers, pensively tapping her fingers on the underside of her desk. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes,” he hisses, stepping towards her desk, though he maintains an undercurrent of respect in the distance he keeps, even in his upset. “Maeve Moving On? It’s been a week, Madelyn! A week, and she’s gallivanting around like she’s Nicole Kidman post divorce. Like she’s celebrating,” he says, spitting the word like it’s something vile. “This is not what we discussed.”

“The tabloids will talk. That’s what they do,” she answers in her best soothing, placating tone. “It’s alright. Maeve has an interview with VNN this week. We’ll address the rumors then, and she can put them to bed.”

Homelander scoffs. “Please. The only thing she’s putting to bed is every Tom, Dick and Jane that catches her eye. She’s out of control, Madelyn. You need to talk to her. It’s not just her image on the line, alright? It’s mine, too. And the Sevens!” He says, pointedly tapping a gloved finger on her desk. Righteous anger is easier to wear than the petty, wounded state of his pride.

“I hear you. You’re right,” she says, standing from her seat. That causes him to straighten up, his hands falling to his sides. “Maeve’s out of control,” she echoes him, watching the way her validation loosens some of the tension from his expression. “I will talk to her. Make sure she’s up on all of her talking points.”

Though his jaw is still tight, Homelander nods curtly. In a perfect world, that would be enough. He would accept what she told him, his upset would be soothed, and he would leave her office in peace. Instead, he remains there as if rooted in place, his hands in tight fists by his sides. It isn’t enough, and if she’s being honest, Madelyn knew it wouldn’t be.

Ultimately, the tabloids have nothing to do with his upset. Homelander has dealt with the ups and downs of publicity his entire life, and this isn’t the first time his relationship with Maeve has been covered in a less than positive light. No, he doesn’t care about any of that. His split with Maeve has left him with a void he doesn’t know how to fill. That would be true no matter how Madelyn spun the situation in his favor.

She supposes it couldn’t have lasted forever. Maeve had been by no means an excellent accomplice in maintaining Homelander, but at the very least she had been effective. If she was going to keep the hero under her thumb, she was going to have to take a more hands on approach, and pick up Maeve’s newly loosened slack.

Madelyn smiles warmly, and lifts a hand to beckon him to her. “Come over here.”

Homelander blinks owlishly, visibly caught off guard. Perhaps he had expected to be dismissed, still broiling with unresolved misery and newfound loneliness. Tentatively, he crosses the invisible threshold Madelyn maintains between them, eying her with equal parts curiosity and wariness. He makes his way around her desk, but stops before moving behind it. His hands fold demurely in front of him.

She beckons him again, urging him closer. “It’s okay. All the way.”

His throat bobs as he swallows his hesitance, nodding. He steps closer, and Madelyn rolls her chair all the way back to the wall, opening up the space behind her desk. Once he’s close enough, she puts her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry that she hurt you,” she says quietly, watching his expression slowly smooth out until he looks young and vulnerable. It takes very little from her to get him to this point.

She’s made sure of that.

“Breakups are hard, and they’re lonely,” she says. She strings together specific words, ones she knows will disarm him, with all the care of a jeweler crafting the perfect series of gems in a necklace. “You’re so strong. Anyone else would have crumbled by now.”

“Not me,” he says, an attempt to coax more of those pretty, sparkling words from her.

“No,” she agrees, smoothing her hand up and down his arm in short strokes, “Not you. Not my very best hero.”

His lips twitch in an almost smile, but it falters. His gaze drops to her hand on his arm, following the back and forth flow of it. There is familiar, barely contained longing in his expression. Through their time together, she has been careful to microdose him with these affections, feeding him just enough to ensure that he neither starves, nor grows bored. Either would be deeply dangerous.

However, every so often, she acknowledges that there must be something more dangling from the stick than a morsel. There must be the lurking possibility of a feast, or he will lose interest regardless.

Madelyn takes hold of his wrist, and gives a gentle pull. He looks back up at her with all the tentative curiosity of a wild animal. She maintains her nurturing smile, and asks him, “Do you trust me?”

He only nods, which tells her that, mentally and emotionally, he’s exactly where she needs him.

“Good,” she says, dragging the word out, letting it wash over him. “Come here. Put your hands on the desk,” she instructs, barely above a whisper. He casts her one lingering, uncertain glance before his curiosity and obedience win out. He bends slightly to flatten his palms to her desk, eyes trained on the grain of the wood.

Madelyn steps forward, her skirt brushing against his cape, and reaches around him. She deftly undoes the mechanism of his belt, and hooks her thumbs into the waistband of his pants. He sucks in a sharp, exhilarated breath as she pushes them down to his mid thighs. Without all the ridiculous padding of the suit, he feels much less unwieldy beneath her palms. She slides them up his outer thighs like she might touch the flank of a horse so as not to spook it, keeping her touch confident and smooth.

Homelander has always had a distinctly sterile scent to him, and impeccable hygiene. She has no doubt that the frequent showers are to do with his heightened senses. He likes to keep clean and scentless. He’s the same way when it comes to his gloves, always preferring to keep them on over getting his hands dirty navigating the world. Unless he’s seeking connection, of course.

Next, she adjusts his cape out of the way, settling the bulk of the heavy fabric on her desk. He adjusts his hand to pin it there, eager to assist the process in any way he can. With a hand between his shoulder blades, she gradually applies pressure until he gets the message, and sinks down, down, down, stopping only when his chest hits the desk.

“There we go. Just like that,” she coos, continuing to stroke his bare skin, letting her nails scrape every so often. With her other hand, she pops open the side drawer of her desk, and retrieves the bottle of massage oil she keeps. Most days it’s reserved for her dry skin and aching neck. Today, it serves a greater purpose.

Pouring a generous amount into her palm, she rubs it between her hands to warm it. Homelander cranes his neck to try and get a look at her over his shoulder, but between all the padding and his eagle pauldrons, there isn’t much maneuverability. She doesn’t let him wait for long. Once the oil is warm and slick on both of her hands, she puts her hands to his lower back, just beneath the top of his suit, and begins working the oil into his skin.

Homelander inhales sharply, giving a little noise of confusion that quickly melts into a pleased, needy sigh. Madelyn works her fingers into the tight, woven steel muscles of his lower back, dragging her hands gradually lower. His breath hitches when she takes two generous handfuls of the meat of his rump, rolling her palms into it.

Before long, he’s panting softly, rustling the papers on her desk with every huff. His legs have settled into a wanton spread, and she’s ignored the swell of his cock long enough that, when she steps back to apply more oil, she can see that he’s drooled a puddle of precome onto the floor below.

“Would you like some more?” She asks, to which he nods fervently.

“More,” he pleads, swallowing back the saliva in his mouth, breathing shallowly.

“Of course,” she soothes, stepping back in close. “Anything for my sweet boy.” She punctuates her words by cupping his balls in her warm, wet palm. His whole body jerks, but he settles readily back into her hand, rutting only once against the pressure before he reigns himself in. “That’s it. Always so good for me,” she says, massaging him in slow, rhythmic rolls of her hand. With her other hand, she takes her middle finger and begins working his rim.

Homelander keens while she slides knuckle deep into him, his hips giving barely restrained little jerks, torn between pushing down into her hand and back onto her finger. Everything about her touch is too much and too little, a balance she has worked diligently to perfect. She’s certain she could make him cry if she teased him long enough, but there isn’t time enough in the day for that. He has an appearance this afternoon, and she’s determined that he will be on his best behavior.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” She prompts, drawing her middle finger all the way out, only to join her index finger with it, sinking both back in in a slow, purposeful push. “You deserve to feel good.”

He’s nodding, babbling reedy nonsense through his breaths.

Madelyn smiles down at him. “Because you are good. My good, good boy,” she says, his balls tightening up in her palm as his muscles contract. She fucks him languidly with her fingers, scissoring them on every slow pull. “Aren’t you? Tell me you’re my good boy.”

“I’m your good boy,” he rasps out immediately, fists clenched so hard on her desk they shake, the leather of his gloves barely surviving his grip. If he were gripping her desk, he would have cracked it by now.

“That’s right. And you always will be,” she murmurs, sliding her hand from his balls to the underside of his cock. With only her middle finger, she touches a firm line from the base of his cock, following the thick, throbbing vein there, all the way up to the leaking head of it, and then all the way back down.

That’s all it takes to set him off. Homelander moans loud and low, his whole body going rigid as his cock jumps with each pulse of his release, ribbons of come audibly painting the floor beneath Madelyn’s desk. She slips her fingers out of him and settles both hands on his ass, massaging and hushing him through his explosive orgasm.

“There you go,” she whispers, maintaining those calming strokes as he comes gradually down from his high. He’s slumped completely down on her desk, but he’s managed not to destroy anything. That wasn’t always the case. These little “sessions” used to invariably involve some degree of destruction, be it strength or laser related, but over time she has trained him well. Aside from the spill, one would never even know unless they saw it happen. “That’s it. You’re wonderful.”

When his breathing evens out, and the aftershocks settle, Madelyn cleans her hands on a hand towel, and then helps him pull his pants back up. He turns around, and she tucks his soft cock back into the confines of his pants with all the care and attention of a lover, albeit a brisk one. She fastens his belt back into place, and smooths his suit out.

Homelander is smiling loosely down at her, cheeks flushed a vibrant pink. He’s got the look of a lovesick puppy, and he leans into her hand just like one when she reaches up to fix his hair. “Thanks,” he whispers, his tone warm and conspiratorial.

“It’s my pleasure,” she tells him sweetly, brushing back a couple loose locks of his hair. “Do you feel better?”

“Mhm,” he hums, leaning towards her. She can see in the half close of his eyes and the slight tension in his lips that he means to kiss her, but she deftly redirects him, and kisses his cheek. Certain rewards must be reserved.

“Good. Nothing makes me happier,” she tells him, giving his gloved hand a squeeze before she steps back. “Now, I have a meeting, but Ashley has your talking points for this afternoon. Will you pick them up from her on your way out?”

There’s a brief flash of disappointment in his gaze, but ultimately, the giddiness of his post orgasm haze wins out, and he nods. “Sure. You’re going to be there, right?” He asks, voice sounding small, despite the way he towers over her.

“Of course I will,” she says, smiling. “I’ll always be there for you.”

His own smile broadens, predator teeth hidden behind the wide spread of his lips. “Okay.”

He lingers only a moment longer before he clears his throat, and sheepishly excuses himself. Madelyn watches him go, waiting until the door closes behind him to sit. She inhales a slow, silent breath, sinking into her seat on the exhale. She stares down at the steaky, wet mess of come staining the carpet beneath her desk. After a beat, she reaches over for her intercom. “Ashley, make sure Homelander gets those documents for his appearance today. Also, send in the custodian. I spilled my coffee,” she lies smoothly, lifting her finger off the button.

Sometimes, keeping your business clean requires making manageable messes.

#i hope there's no egregious errors dfghj enjoy!#homelander x madelyn #homewell #homelander fanfiction #madelyn stillwell #my writing #smut

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ghorbanis · 2 years

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GET TO KNOW ME ✩ [2/15] ships → nicole & maeve

#dailywlw #dailylgbtq #nicole x maeve #shortland street #gtkm #my edits #i realise that no one will know who they are and this will get 0 notes but i love them your honour #they are my emotional support couple

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auslangeweile · 3 years

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Nicole & Maeve

#nicole x maeve #shortland street #maecole #is that even their ship name? idk #since there's not much going on f/f wise #I'm glad that at least we have those two #to get us through this (Covid) drought #and for soap standards their relationship is actually pretty mature #mine

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cptbalthasar · 3 years

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Kisses Part 5 / ?

#shortlandstreet #nicole/maeve #nicole x maeve #wlw #maecole

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damnamour · 9 months

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Episode 7752 ― 7th August 2023

#shortland street #nicole x maeve #nicole miller #maeve mullens #wlwsource #wlwgif #OH WELL #mine

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booasaur · 4 years

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Hi, I don't know if you or any of your followers watch soaps but, a New Zealand soap Shortland Street (no covid filming restrictions) has had a wlw ship since the beginning of this year that are really well written and they touch on a lot of topics. One of them was dv in same sex relationships and they did a good job with that. Also, one of the actresses is a lesbian and the head writer is too. They got engaged back in July. Their wedding will be coming up end of this month/early nov.

Oh, I never know what my followers are doing...a suspicious bunch. :P

You’re talking about Maeve and Nicole, right? I don’t knowwww. I hear good things about them, but my first exposure to the show was Nicole and another woman, who I rather liked, and even then it seemed a long list of storylines with Nicole and women which ended badly and then it did. People say this seems different, but how do we really know, given it’s started in March and already rushed into a wedding? Take a bit of time! But that might just be my personal preference.

I didn’t know one of the actresses was a lesbian in real life, that might actually ensure better treatment. I dunnnnno. I mean, Kana got more than a year and then look what happened. But that is the thing with soaps, right, even if they implode in a year or three, it’s more about the journey, and it looks like these two have a solid one already. Fine, fine, you’ve convinced me! :P I’ll take a look at it.

#replies #femslash related stuff #sent on 20201004 #Anonymous #5 #shortland street #maeve x nicole

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dumassgay · 6 years

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#wynonna earp #wyndoc #jeremy x robin #jeremy chetri #waverly earp #wayhaught #emily andras #anna silk #nicole haught #bulshar #maeve #we

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poppinschinup · 3 years

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If you're sleeping on Maeve & Nicole on Shortland Street.... They are worth checking out.

#maecole #maeve x nicole #nicole x maeve #shortland street #new zealand

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igotopigfarts · 5 years

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HC where the fire witch Maeve actually cuts Nicole’s hair really short while she was possessing her

FUCKING HELL THIS WAS ALMOST DONE WHERE DID IT GO

i have to restart now im sorry

so maeve wanted to try some new things

she was checking her victoria’s secret bra, fucking around, having a grand old time, and then she decided she wanted to know what it would feel like to cut her hair

like cut her hair

so when nicole comes back around and is herself again, her head feels a little lighter

she doesn’t put much thought into it though until she goes to run her hand through her hair and there’s nothing there

not nothing but it was like a buzz cut

and not gonna lie, nicole starts freaking out a little

who was she without her signature red locks?

and also, the length of her hair was supposed to be her choice and lately there had just been so many things going on that felt so out of her control that she hated the fact that something she should have been able to control had just been taken away from her

and then waverly

what would waverly think?

nicole knew her baby liked running her fingers through her hair, playing with the ends, pulling it because of the fact that nicole has a huge hair pulling kink

so she called her up before she saw her just so that she would be prepared

when they met up after waverly saw it, a look passed over her face that was honestly kind of hard to read, and then she didn’t say anything

“baby… is this okay?”

waverly just gave her a look like wtf you talking about nicole?

“my hair? do you hate it?”

“nicole, baby,” she walks about and runs her fingers through the very short buzzcut “i don’t care about your hair. i care about you. and you’re beautiful”

“i just- i know you like it at least a little longer-”

“nicole, baby, i don’t care what length your hair is. you’re always going to be hot as hell to me”

“yeah?”

“of course.”

“but i want to grow it out again”

“i know you do baby” waverly goes in for kiss “just know i’ll love you through all the different lengths”

nicole smiles with her lips against waverly’s and she feels so much better

and then waverly leans over smirking and whispers in her ear

“and don’t worry, once it gets long enough, i’ll start pulling again”

#wayhaught #wayhaught headcanon #short hair #nicole haught #waverly earp #wynonna earp #wynonna earp headcanon #waverly x nicole #maeve #hc #wlw #lesbian #girls who like girs #headcanon #headcanons #anon

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bi-bard · 3 years

Text

Chick Flick Moments - Sam Winchester Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Chick Flick Moments

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Requested: by an anonymous reader

Word Count: 2,363 words

Warning(s): violence, cussing, Sam embarrassing himself, spoilers for any movie/show listed in the author's note

Summary: (Season 11) Gabriel takes a break from hiding to teach (Y/n) and Sam to forgive each other.

Author's Note: I had so much fun putting this request together! Also, if I remember correctly, this reader wanted to remain anonymous.

Here are links to all the scenes that inspired parts of this imagine:

1 (Princess Bride), 2 (8x12 Criminal Minds; can't find just the scene to link), 3 (Moulin Rouge), 4 (The Notebook), 5 (The 10 Things I Hate About You), 6 (Gilmore Girls), 7 (La La Land)

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

-----------------------------------

I rolled my eyes as I walked through the bunker.

Sam was still ranting about the most recent hunt. I was just tired of listening to it. Dean had long since given up trying to control his brother, who had shown no sign of listening to anyone.

"You can't just throw yourself into every single enemy," Sam yelled. "Fun fact, you're not Superman!"

"Oh my god," I finally, turning around. I had been halfway through the library at this point. Dean continued through the bunker, ignoring us. "I ran up to one extra vamp because you were about to get your throat ripped out! Yes, I put myself in danger but it was to save you!"

"Why are you so desperate to be a hero," he asked.

"Why are you so pissy that I saved you," I shouted back.

I let out a yell before turning and leaving.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed," I shouted from down the hall. "Maybe you'll be nicer in the morning! You're welcome for saving your ass!"

I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut. I changed quickly, throwing my old clothes into the corner before curling up on my bed. My emotions got the better of me. I started crying into my pillow.

Imagine saving the man you secretly loved... and then he got mad at you about it.

I fell asleep crying that night.

--time skip--

I shot awake, cringing at how bright it was.

I looked around, letting my eyes adjust to the light.

I was on a hill. I was on a hill, lying in the grass with the sun shining on my face. This is not good.

I stood up and did a circle to look around the long stretches of grass. Nothing looked even slightly familiar.

"For fuck's sake," I muttered.

I decided that the best option would be to try to climb down and find a person... somewhere.

I was just about to start making my way down the hill when I felt a hand grab me.

Out of pure fear, I grabbed the person and pulled them from behind me. The person went flying down the hill.

"(Y/n)," I heard Sam's voice yell as he rolled down the hill.

I put my hand over my mouth. He soon stopped rolling and then he stood up, scrambling to pull the black mask off of his face. I sighed, dropping my hand when I saw he was alright.

"Sam," I called.

"Your instinct is to throw some down a hill," Sam asked.

"When a masked man tries to grab me, definitely," I replied. "Fun fact, Sam, I can actually defend myself."

He gave me a sarcastic smile. I shot it right back to him.

Sam looked down at his outfit before sighing and shrugging at me. He had just started to move back up the hill when my visions went dark.

I opened my eyes a few moments later.

What had been an open field was now a dark warehouse or factory. I saw Sam across from me, but also a group of people behind him. I recognized them. They were characters from Criminal Minds, a guilty pleasure I watched when we weren't hunting.

I tried to figure out what was happening.

Then, I became all too aware of the barrel of a gun pressing into my neck.

"No," Sam yelled.

It clicked.

Sam was supposed to be Spencer. I was Maeve. This was Zugzwang.

My heart dropped.

"Wait, please, don't," Sam yelled as the gun pressed harder on my neck.

"Sam, shut up," I snapped.

"Me for (Y/n)," he shouted.

"You would do that," Diane- the unsub of that episode- asked.

"Yes," Sam replied.

"No," I yelled. "Sam, shut up."

"You shut up," Diane growled at me.

"One difference between me and her...," I growled back.

I grabbed the gun, pushing it forward, away from my neck. The bullet she tried to fire hit the brick wall. I turned, bringing an elbow down on her arm. Her hand dropped the gun into my grasp. I pointed it toward her.

"...I'm not scared of a simple gun."

The others walked over and arrested her. I looked at Sam.

"If you continued, she would've killed herself, which would've killed me," I explained. He furrowed his eyebrows. "I watch this show when we aren't hunting."

He walks over, going to hug me before the scene changes again.

"Holy...," I trailed off as I looked around.

Around us, we could see the tops of roofs and a beautiful night sky. It was almost a dreamy setting.

"Where are we now," Sam asked.

"Only the great Moulin Rouge," Sam and I both twirled around to face... Gabriel. "I know, I know... I'm not dead, anyway!"

I rolled my eyes.

"You two need to learn a lesson," he pointed at us.

"It's like back in 2010," I mumbled. "Play our roles to get out. Probably why we were pulled out of the last two."

"You'll fall into them naturally, I promise," Gabriel smirked. "And yes. Stop ignoring the plotline."

"Alright... sure, I was gonna get shot for your crappy game," I snapped sarcastically.

Then, he was gone. I rolled my eyes.

"So, what are the roles," Sam asked as I walked around the top of the elephant.

"Well, Christian and Satine," I pointed between us. "Maeve and Spencer. The Princess Bride and Westley. It's all romance."

"Why," Sam scrunched his face up.

"Because Gabe wants to get his rocks off," I said sarcastically, "I don't know, Sam!"

I walked down the stairs of the elephant. It was gorgeous here. It was just as vibrant as the movie made it look.

"Wow," I look back at Sam. "This is awesome."

I chuckled and nodded.

"What seen is it?"

"The Elephant Love Medley," I said. "Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman sing this mash-up of famous love songs as his character tries to convince her that there is nothing more important than love."

"I'm not gonna sing," Sam shook his head.

"I was not gonna ask you too," I chuckled. "I've heard you sing."

"Rude."

I just shrugged.

I looked around at the room, trying to figure out how to play these roles without the singing.

"Wait," I said. "Come on."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the stairs.

"What is it," Sam asked as we made it to the top.

"At the end of the medley, Christian and Satine are dancing and they walk out onto this field of clouds and are held up in the sky."

"What-"

"This whole movie feels like a fever dream the first time you watch it."

"Come on," Sam held a hand out to me.

"Can you dance?"

"Not well," he chuckled. "The role didn't say I needed to be good."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him.

I tried to lead his steps and laughed as he stumbled into a pattern.

"Come on," I moved back so I could grab only one hand.

I led him a few steps forward and onto- what seemed to be- steps in the clouds. I let out an excited laugh when it worked. Sam looked at me and grinned at my excitement.

As soon as got to the top of the steps... it was gone.

We were in the middle of the street now.

"Aw, that was just mean," I mumbled. I glared at Sam when I heard him laughed.

He held his hands up jokingly before extending one toward me. I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"I know what movie this is," he shrugged. I motioned for him to continue explaining. He walked over, hand still held out to me, "The Notebook. Noah and Allie dance in the street. So... will you dance with me? Even without the sequence where we dance in the clouds."

I bit my lip as I smiled.

I took his hand and let him pull me into the street. I laughed as I stumbled into his chest.

We fell into the scene naturally.

Sam held one of my hands in his and held my waist with the other. I placed my free hand on his shoulder. I looked up at him. It felt strange that we so casually fell into the scene but I was happy.

Sam jokingly twirled me around before pulling me back to his chest. I closed my eyes and chuckled.

"What," he asked.

"Nothing," I shook my head. "I just never saw you as such a romantic."

"Well, don't tell anyone, you'll ruin my reputation," he said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes.

Sam spun the two of us in a circle before going to dip me. I didn't think I'd ever get to experience something like this. It always just felt like something I should forget about as a hunter. I was starting to forget why I was so angry with Sam in the first place.

I barely noticed that Sam was leaning in before the scene around me changed.

I was on a football field.

I looked around.

There was no sign of Sam.

"Crap," I mumbled, trying to figure out where to look first.

Then, there was a voice going over the field's speakers.

"You're just too good to be true... can't take my eyes off of you..."

I looked around toward the stands to see Sam walking with a mic. Can't sing, my ass.

"You'd be like heaven to touch... I wanna hold you so much"

"Oh my god," I muttered.

"At long last love has arrived... And I thank God I'm alive... You're just too good to be true... Can't take my eyes off of you."

I tried to bite back my laugh. He shrugged at me with an embarrassed smile and stepped into the actual stands.

We both jumped when the marching band started playing. I looked to see Gabriel smirking and leading their march.

Sam and I shrugged at each other. He continued on with the act.

Now, Sam Winchester pretending to be Patrick in "10 Things I Hate About You" was a treat... and was exactly what you imagined it would be.

He was almost stumbling down the steps as he continued on with the act. I was laughing hysterically by the time I saw the security guards starting to run in.

"Sam," I yelled, pointing behind him.

"Crap," I heard through the mic (which made me almost double-over in laughter) as he tried to take off running.

As soon as he was grabbed, the scene changed.

We both took a deep breath when we realized we were sitting together in a car.

"Thank god," Sam mumbled.

"That was a great performance, by the way," I said, still chuckling.

"Shut up," he muttered, laughing along with me. We fell silent after a minute. "So... what scene is this?"

"I have no idea," I replied.

"It's Gilmore Girls, dumbasses," we heard Gabriel's voice but saw no sign of him. "Season 1, Episode 16... absolute idiots."

"Didn't peg him for a Gilmore Girls fan," I said. Sam laughed.

"Me neither."

We fell silent again.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, looking over at me. "You were right. You can defend yourself and you were just trying to help me. I'm sorry for being such a dick about it."

I grinned, "Thanks... I forgive you. I know you were just worried about me."

Sam smiled back.

"I... umm...," Sam looked down for a moment, clearing his throat and collecting his thoughts. "I just... I love you."

My heart leaped up into my throat. I blinked at him a few times and forced a chuckle out. Which was the wrong response but I panicked. Hunters... we could face the devil but emotions were a no-no.

"(Y/n)," Sam's smile dropped slowly when he realized I wasn't responding.

I was just about to respond when the scene changed again.

Sam was gone again and I was on a city street.

"Dammit," I muttered.

I ran down the street, turning the corner. I looked at the wall of the building I was by. Was this a jazz club?

I walked through the door and was guided to a table so I could sit down and watch the performance.

"La La Land," I said.

Sam and I watched this together. Dean had gone to bed. We weren't tired and just turned this movie on because it looked like it was mostly happy.

Big dance numbers, beautiful effects... and the epilogue that made me hide tears from Sam.

I looked at the stage. Sam was sitting there, wearing a suit, looking at the audience nervously. He hesitantly reached toward the piano. It was like it was a prerecorded track. It sounded just like the movie.

I smiled.

I just wanted to talk to him.

Soon the performance ended.

I stood up and started walking over, seeing Sam starting to walk out.

I grinned at him, "Sam-"

He cut me off by cupping the sides of my face and kissing me softly. I touched his sides lightly, smiling against his lips. It was... magic. Absolute magic.

Then, I shot awake, back in my bed in the bunker.

The game was over. Thank God.

"(Y/n)," I heard yell through the bunker hall.

I ran into the hall and ran toward his room.

We stopped as soon as we saw each other.

"Please tell me that wasn't a dream," I said. He shook his head, smiling widely at me.

I ran over, pulling him down to kiss him again. It was softer than our last kiss and I loved it. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer. I buried my hands through his hair.

"Woah, what did I miss," we pulled away when we heard Dean.

I could basically feel Sam chuckle against my lips before he moved to look at his brother. I turned around in Sam's arm.

"A chick flick moment," Sam answered.

"Alright," Dean gave us a weird look before leaving without another word.

I looked back at Sam with a smile, "I love you."

"I love you too," he grinned and leaned in to kiss me softly again.

-----------------------------------

Masterlist

What I Write For

Request Guidelines

Musical Prompts

Small Moments With…

When Worlds Collide (Doctor Who Crossover Series) Masterlist

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

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moon-light-jukebox · 3 years

Text

see? - [Reid x Reader] - Chapter 3

masterlist

previous chapter // series index // next chapter

Summary: Months after Reader left, Reid has tried to put his life back together. He’s never stopped trying to find Reader, but he may find her in the worst way possible.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k for Chapter 3

Content Warning: Normal Criminal Minds stuff. Mentions of drug addiction. This series has a villain, and he harms women. There is no s*xual assault, but there is brief talk of torture, and then the death of the victims. Spoiler: Our unsub targets pregnant women, one of the infants does not survive. Reader and her baby are fine. I don't go into detail, but if you need to skip this, I understand.

A/n: How can I ever thank you all enough for being so patient with me? That being said, this chapter does end on a cliffhanger that you probably saw coming if you read “River” by @yours-truly-r. She shared this plot with me, so this is my version. I’ll try my best not to make you wait too long for chapter 4. Chapter 3 & 4 are in Spencer’s point of view, but the remainder of the series will be in Reader’s POV.

-- Linear Progression --

(Spencer’s POV)

The night we came back from my first case with the BAU, Morgan declared that he was going to a bar near his apartment to "get lucky." When I pointed out the fact that it was almost 2 am, he had told me, "time is an illusion, Pretty Boy."

That was the first time he called me pretty boy, along with the first time I tried to explain a theoretical concept he had no interest in hearing.

He was right to a degree. The way we understand time is an illusion. Time doesn’t happen in the linear way that we as a society perceive it to. The physics of time are still widely debated, but the running hypothesis is that everything that has ever happened is still happening right now. Every single moment in time is happening all at once, and it always will be.

Morgan didn’t “get lucky” that night, but he did give me a ride back to my apartment. I think that was the beginning of our friendship; I had never been able to understand the social constructs of relationships and friendships, but I think he felt some sort of responsibility for the skinny kid with glasses who was babbling about the physics of time at 3 am.

My friendship with Derek Morgan was one of the most important of my life.

Which is why I wasn't going to murder him for banging on my door at 7 am.

“Open up, Pretty Boy!”

Grumbling, I got out of bed and padded down the hallway towards my living room where Morgan was pounding on the door so hard, I was concerned it was going to fly off its hinges.

“If you break my door, you’re gonna fix it,” I muttered out when I finally pulled the door open.

The man who was the closest thing to a brother I had just smiled at me. “I restore houses, kid. It’d be an improvement.”

Smirking, I waved him into my apartment. In the months since…Since February, Morgan had made it a habit of coming by several times a week whenever we were in town. I don’t know if the rest of the team knew he did it, I don’t know if they were as worried about me as he was, but it wouldn’t have surprised me.

“Coffee?” I asked, making my way into the kitchen.

"We'll grab some on the way," he said, flopping down on my couch. "We have a case; I told Hotch I'd swing by and get you. It's wheels up as soon as we get there and finish the briefing."

I frowned. “I didn’t get any message.”

“I know. I asked Garcia to let me wake you.” He turned his head around to look at me. “You haven’t been sleeping, kid.”

He wasn’t wrong. “It’s…I’m trying, Derek.”

I didn’t need to say it, because he knew it. Much like time, recovery isn’t a linear process. You start, you stumble, you go back, sometimes you go up then down. It’s an imperfect journey because there isn’t a finish line; addiction can’t be beaten, only beaten back.

Derek Morgan had been beside me through every step of my recovery.

Lumbering off the couch, he walked over to stand before me. “Reid, you’re doing the best you can. Everyone stumbles.”

I shook my head. “It’s different. I can…I can still see it. I can still see it all, Morgan.”

I could still see the look on Ben’s face when he found the vials of Dilaudid I had hidden all around my apartment. I could still remember the look on Hotch’s face when he told me she was gone. I could still see the anger on Garcia’s face when she refused to help me find her.

Most of all, I remember how y/n looked when I told her I would kill her, give up her precious life, for one more moment with Maeve. Every morning, right before I wake up, that memory flashes behind my eyes.

I’ve called in every favor I’m owed, reached out to every connection; no one could find her. She vanished.

I quickly realized the only way she could vanish like that is if she had help from inside the bureau, and if I had to guess, I’m sure I know who helped her. If she went to all these lengths, she didn’t want to be found, least of all by me.

"We'll find her, Spencer," Morgan said gently, pulling me from my thoughts.

He said the words to comfort me, but even he knew they weren’t true. No one would find y/n y/l/n until she wanted to be found.

Nodding my head, I made my way back towards my bedroom to get ready for the case.

Making amends is very big in the recovery process. I wanted to make amends to y/n, and while I wanted that to be in the traditional sense, I settled for a symbolic one.

I tried to make myself into the man she thought I was before that night. Every time I felt the itch crawl up my spine, I thought of her face. It didn't make the craving go away; it just made it easier to bear.

I didn’t deserve to have her back in my life, but I wanted to be someone who did.

After I had finished getting ready, I made my way over to my bedside table to pick up the coin I carried with me everywhere, running my fingers over the edges before placing it in my pocket.

Two hundred and forty-seven days sober, and each one of them was for her.

We never made it to the bullpen that morning. Hotch called and informed us that it was wheels up "immediately," and that we would debrief on the plane. Morgan and I were the last members of the team to arrive. He took a seat on the couch beside Callahan while I opted to sit at the table across from Hotch and JJ.

“Garcia is going to be out for the remainder of the week. She has the flu,” our unit chief informed us, his eyes fixed on the tablet in front of him.

Morgan toyed with his phone, no doubt trying to text his ‘baby girl’ before take-off. “Who is going to be running things from here since she’s out? Kevin?”

Hotch nodded, but I couldn’t help but notice he seemed distracted. “He’s the most familiar with Garcia’s systems.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days,” Rossi muttered just a bit too loudly, earning a mock glare from Hotch, a confused look from Kate, an eye roll from Morgan and JJ, and a soft huff of laughter from me.

“Let’s get started,” Hotch ordered, drawing all of our focus back to the present. “The Oregon State Police have requested our help.”

I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose at the tablet in front of me, further proof Garcia wasn’t on this case. Despite how mad she was at me over Y/n, she still always accommodated my wishes for paper files.

The state police?” Morgan asked. “Not the locals?”

"No," Hotch answered, right as I brought up an image on my screen. "He's not sticking to one county."

I heard a strangled gasp from JJ, but I didn't need to look up to know why. “How many?” I asked.

“When the original request was made two women had been abducted. Both of them were pregnant, days from giving birth, and both from the same town of Silverton, Oregon. The first victim was Iris Jenkins. She was a 31-year-old woman, and she was 40 weeks and 2 days gestation when she was taken by the unsub. The M.E. estimates he held her for less than 24 hours before she died.”

“The baby?” JJ asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“He was left outside of a local hospital in Silverton. He was completely unharmed. The next intended victim is Nancy Williamson. She was abducted outside her workplace. Also 40 weeks pregnant with a boy.”

“Could that be a coincidence?”

Hotch still didn’t look up from his tablet. “It could have been before the latest victim.”

“But Nicole Williamson escaped?” Morgan asked. “That’s lucky. Did she give a description of the guy?”

“No, she said he kept her blindfolded and bound to a chair.”

That caused me to pause. "That doesn't make sense. Why would the unsub blindfold them if he plans on killing them anyway?"

Rossi spoke for the first time. “Psychological torture? Sensory deprivation?”

I thought about that as I swiped through the crime scene photos; pausing when I saw a photograph of a letter on the screen. "He makes them write letters?”

“Just the first victim and the third. The one that got away was only held for 12 hours.”

I frowned. “Is this blood? Or just red ink?”

“The first is red ink, the second letter is still being processed.”

It was obvious based on the letter spacing and how many loops were in the letters that a woman wrote this letter. Based on the contents of the letter, I could also assume she was under duress.

Hotch spoke again, pulling my focus. “Morgan, I'd like for you and JJ to drive up to Silverton. Visit Miss Williamson and ask if she's up for a cognitive interview, then visit the M.E., ask him if he remembers anything about the first victim.”

“Where was the…” JJ’s question trailed off when he got to the same image Kate’s hand had been frozen over for the last 47 seconds, the same photo that was described in the incident report that Hotch had on his screen.

My unit chief, my friend, cleared his throat before he spoke. “Kayla Whitmore was found an hour ago in Eugene, Oregon. The autopsies are already underway, and the scene is being processed.”

“The cause of death seems pretty apparent,” Morgan said with a look of disgust on his face.

"The time between this most recent kill and the last abduction is much shorter. We need to move fast," Hotch said, his voice grave. "Kate, I'd like for you to come with me to the FBI satellite office in Bend, that's where we're landing. Kayla Whitmore's credit card was used to buy gas right outside the town limits. Rossi, I'd like for you and Reid to ride out to Eugene. It should be undisturbed."

"I already don't understand this guy," Rossi muttered. "The first baby survives, the third doesn't. The second victim is blindfolded, but it doesn't appear the others were. He makes them write their own letters. Then he uses the third victim's credit card. This behavior…it's erratic."

“Is the message on the wall the same in both crime scenes?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

The media hadn’t named our unsub yet, but I was sure it wouldn’t be long, especially once word of Kayla Whitmore reached the public. This type of violence always draws attention.

Rossi was moving around the room, silent, but his eyes moving rapidly over everything. “He’s a cocky son of a bitch, I’ll give him that.”

I nodded. “Do we have the original note?” One of the deputies brought over an evidence bag, inside of it was the wrinkled piece of paper. “Have we analyzed this yet?”

The man nodded. “It’s red ink, just like the last.”

"It makes sense; blood might start to coagulate and make it more difficult to work with. Rossi, come here." I called, offering him the note.

“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked,” he read. “It sounds biblical.”

“It is. It’s Psalm 82, verses 3 through 4.”

“Was the first note biblical?”

“The first victim was made to write, ‘Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.’ That’s from Ephesians. There are similar themes in both letters.”

“So, he’s perverting the bible to fit his own fucked up narrative? How original.” The older man handed the paper back to me. “We have to find out how he’s choosing them.”

My gaze moved over to the right wall of the room. "Did the unsub leave any prints when he wrote on the wall?"

It wasn't the first message I'd seen written in blood, but I don't think it's something you ever get used to. “’Do you see this, son of man?’ could be another biblical reference. It’s Ezekiel chapter 8, verse 17. “Do you see this, son of man? Yet you will see still greater abominations than these.’”

“So, are the children abominations? Or the mothers?” The deputy said quietly.

“The mothers,” I answered. “He doesn’t harm the children. I think it must go against his…moral code.”

The deputy scoffed behind me, and I was inclined to agree; the idea that someone could do something like this and have a moral code was almost impossible to imagine.

But devils hide in plain sight all the time.

“His rage is escalating,” I pointed out.

I heard the deputy ask Rossi what that meant.

“This guy is a bum,” the man who developed the art of profiling explained. "He can't get a girlfriend, and he has this idea in his mind that it’s the women’s fault. He thinks women owe him sex, love, whatever he wants.”

I walked away from the wall, turning to face the two men. “He thinks they’re dirty, unclean. It’s why he makes them write the note. By making them say they deserved what he did to them, he’s humiliating them even after death.”

The deputy’s face was pale as he survived the scene around him. “Why does he make them leave the messages in their own blood?”

“Only one message is from them,” I replied, gesturing to the evidence bag. “The message in the blood is from the unsub.”

Before we exited the room, I turned back to that message again, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Both victims had been discovered in the exact same way. The women were naked, stabbed multiple times, but with no signs of sexual assault. They were positioned in the middle of the blood-soaked mattress, their arms spread wide.

He had left the same message on the walls of the room, written in the blood of the woman he killed.

“Do you see this, son of man? Do you see?”

“The media is calling him The Prophet.”

Rossi scoffed. “I bet it was that wet behind the ears deputy who leaked the note and told him the kid’s biblical theories.”

Rossi and I had arrived at the FBI office in Bend, Oregon about an hour ago. Kate and Hotch had already set up; JJ and Morgan were on their way back from Silverton now.

“So, what do we know about this jag-off?” Rossi questioned, staring at the evidence board.

Hotch came to stand at the head of the conference table, his eyes sharp, his voice clipped. "Reid, Dave, what did the M.E. say about the Eugene autopsies?”

"He said he suspected it was a botched c-section. Kayla was just over 40 weeks pregnant, but he said it's not uncommon for first-time mothers to go up to 42 weeks.”

“I know that’s right,” I heard JJ mutter from the speaker placed in the center of the table.

“Indicates a lack of medical knowledge,” Morgan offered. “Because we know this guy isn’t squeamish.”

I agreed with my friend but didn't comment on it; my mind already on another topic. "What's interesting is that Kayla had an anterior placenta, meaning it attached to the front of her uterus. Usually, the placenta attaches to the posterior wall, meaning it's more towards her back. Because of the unusual placement of the placenta, I think that the death of this fetus was accidental."

“It wasn’t a fetus, Reid,” Kate snapped. “It was a baby.”

I cleared my throat, meeting her angry gaze. I knew Callahan was the guardian of a young girl, and based on my years working with fellow agents who were also parents, I knew it was best not to argue about definitions and semantics. "I'm sorry, Kate," I murmured.

Her gaze softened. "It's fine. Sorry. This case is just…this is a lot." She looked down to swipe across her tablet screen. "This child was a boy too?"

I nodded. “All three of the victims were pregnant with boys.”

“So, he wants boys?”

Rossi turned to Kate. “He wants mothers of boys. Probably his way of killing his mother over and over again.”

“But how does he know the babies are boys?” JJ asked.

“So, what do they have in common?” Hotch asked. “Let’s add Nicole Williamson into the mix too, what do we have?”

“There were quotes from the bible in the two complete notes. Those specific verses are often referenced when they speak about protecting children,” I said, my eyes moving over the files. “The women were all in their 20’s. They were all at least 39 weeks pregnant, and...huh, there’s not a father named in any of the medical charts.”

“But how does he know that!” JJ huffed again in frustration.

“And are we sure this unsub is a guy?” Callahan questioned. “There was no sign of sexual assault.”

“If we follow statistics, women take babies, and men take children. With that in mind, it would be safe to assume this was a woman, but the amount of rage we’re seeing makes me think it’s a man.” I turned my back to the team, my eyes moving over the crime scene photos. "The letter was written under duress, but the language is very misogynic. Based on the information Kevin gathered about Kayla's online life, she had a normal amount of self-esteem. It's out of character that she'd talk about herself this way. By all accounts, she was excited for the baby. It's also incredibly difficult to stab someone 54 times. All the women would have fought him until the end. He'd have to be stronger to subdue her. It's a biological instinct, mothers' will stop at nothing to protect their children."

Hotch had pulled out his phone before I finished speaking, dialing Kevin Lynch to give him the criteria of the person we were searching for. "We need women in the Bend, Oregon area that are close to giving birth. There will not be fathers listed on the medical charts. She'll be at least 39 weeks into her pregnancy."

“Alright, so that would leave us with…” Kevin wasn’t able to finish his sentence before an alarm started blaring over the speaker, almost drowning out Kevin’s yelp of surprise.

“What is it?” Hotch asked. “Did something happen?”

"I…I don't know, sir," Kevin answered after he had finally gotten the alarm to quiet. "I was running the search, and…it triggered some sort of system-wide alarm. It completely locked me out of Penny’s system.”

Morgan clicked his tongue. “That doesn’t make any sense. Penelope wouldn’t set some alarm without a reason.”

“Wait. Kevin, was there any sort of message that came up when you triggered the alarm?” Hotch asked, his tone urgent.

There was a weird tension on Hotch’s face while he waited for Kevin to reply. “Yeah, uh, just a dialogue box that says ‘Nightingale.’”

“Nightingale?” Kate asked. “Isn’t that the…”

Hotch didn't reply; he hung up abruptly while Kevin was still speaking. I felt a chill run down my spine when I noticed his hands trembled slightly.

“What is it, Hotch?” Rossi asked urgently.

But he never got a chance to answer; a deputy stormed into the room. "We just got a report of an abandoned car outside of a grocery store about half a mile from here. It's registered to a young woman, and there was an empty infant car seat strapped in the back."

Hotch took the paper from him but didn't look at it. His eyes were screwed shut, and his shoulders were tense.

I heard when the voice spoke on the other end of the line. I heard the deep breath Hotch let out before he spoke.

“Penelope, I need to know where y/n is.”

----------

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