๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฏ๐๐ง๐จ๐ฆ ๐ฌ๐ก๐'๐ฌ ๐ ๐จ๐ง๐ง๐ ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ข๐ญ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ | ๐.๐ฉ
Tags: vampire!emily, fem!reader, au, vampirism, blood (obvi), mean emily but also pathetic emily, petnames, reader is lowkey a freak, blood sucking as a metaphor for sex etc etc I really have nothing to say for myself
Summary: Emily has always been strange. Youโve always struggled with putting your finger on it. But when you realize sheโs hungryโand not for foodโyou do the only reasonable thing that comes to mind: offer yourself up. You know. Like any good friend would do.
Word count: 4.9k
You frown down at the crossword in your lap, tapping the edge of your pencil to the infuriatingly blank spot drawing attention to itself. Eight letters. Three-hulled sailing boat. What the hell do you know about sailing boats? Nothing, is the answer. It's the last empty slot, eight letters away from satisfaction, the target of a frustrated growl that slips from between your teeth.ย
Three-hulled sailing boat?
"Trimaran."
You startle, jerking your head back to see Emily peering over your shoulder.ย
"Jesus!" You yelp, clutching your chest. Your heart takes up a frantic pace as you swivel in your chair and swat the crossword against her thigh. "I told you to stop doing that!"
"I was being loud," she says defensively. "You were just distracted.ย Again."
Distracted. Sure. But that's not all of it.
Emily Prentiss is strange. Not strange in a way you can fully put your finger on, no. It's something finer than the harsh label, slippery and almost a figment of your imagination, something you could maybe blink away or put down to exhaustion. But even then the word lingers in your headโunusual. She talks fine, jokes and teases and converses easy as a fish in water, blends in seamlessly and yet stands out as an integral part of your team, the beating heart of the BAU. She's fiery and warm and smart as a whip, and inexplicablyย strange.
It's all in her body: the way she moves, the animal-like grace that ripples through her every action. Her feetโencased in heeled bootsโare silent wherever she steps. She has these big, owlish eyes, some days impossibly dark, and skin so pale you'd think the sun never touched it if you haven't been with her through countless hours in the field.ย
And thatย smile. Teeth razor sharp, bright and glinting, tips so pointy they could cut through your flesh like butter. Sometimes she laughs, a rich sound that has your skin crawling, and you glimpse her canines and think they could be a cat's.
It's a weird thing, to fixate on someone's teeth. Sometimes she makes you feel like you're going insane.
You roll your eyes and turn back to the crossword. In the wake of your scare, you'd forgotten what she said. You purse your lips.
"Trimaran." She repeats delicately, sitting herself on the edge of your desk. Fake sounding word. Your eyes narrow in skepticism, but you pencil in the letters anyway.
Exactly eight. You flip to the answer sheet, and find TRIMARAN staring right back at you.
Emily is smiling when you look up, a bright, smug thing pitting against your mistrust. Her dimples flash.
You glare.
"How the hell do you know that?"
"Oh, you know," she drawls, "been on a couple."
She's using that tone of voice, the one that makes it impossible know if she's teasing, feeding you a sugared lie, or if she is actually telling the truth. This one isn't outside of the realm of possibility, though. You accept it and set aside the crossword, not giving in to the urge to dig more.
You already spend more time thinking about her than you should.
Her long legs are crossed at the ankles in front of her. You eye the heels on her boots.
"Lunch?" She suggests.
Before you can agree, Hotch blows your plans to dust.
-
Louisiana is sticky, hot, and unforgiving, and yet when Emily hands you a bottle of water her fingers brush ice over your skin.
"Are youย cold?" You ask, though she's stripped down to a tank top same as you. Her skin doesn't bear the same sheen of sweat that soaks your collar; she's, remarkably, perfectly dry, her hair smoothed flat and frizz-free where it's tied in a low pony.
Emily frowns, then notes your eyes on her hand. "Hold that," she points her chin to the bottle she just handed you. Another one is in her hands; she rolls it between her palms, then lightly presses it to her neck. "Delays certain death."
You follow suit, but it doesn't work as well on you as it does on her.
-
"I swear the thermostats are broken here," you mutter to her at the motel's meager breakfast bar. Half your night was spent tossing and turning, stripping off more and more of your clothes until you were just in underwear with the sheets kicked off to the end of the bed.
It seems it got to Emily, too. Her impenetrable bubble from yesterday has popped; there are shadows under her eyes, half moons pressed to her pale skin.
She bops her head, nodding. "Hellish." She mutters.
"I barely slept," you yawn, grabbing a dry looking croissant. "Could you?"
"Hm?" She blinks at you.
"Sleep," you repeat, though it's obvious she probably got none.ย
"Oh," Emily says. "No, not at all."
She dumps three packs of sugar in her coffee.
-
The crime scene is a blood-soaked mess. A man slashed from throat to navel, his insides peeking out, dirt darkened in a ring around him. You've trained yourself not to react, but this one is particularly brutal.
Next to you, Emily's hands are balled into fists. Her jaw is tight, eyes wild and restless, impossibly dark. She's a silent, furious shadow at your side as you mutter out observations and scope out the scene, offering nothing but short nods and clipped, one-word responses to your promptings.ย
You don't prod much. Her hands don't unfurl until you're several miles away, buried deep in the heart of the city.
-
At dinner, she's spacey. Snappish. Reid asks her something and she retorts too sharply and he dies down, leaving her alone. The exchange steals everyone's attention for a second, but it's brushed away, conversation humming back around Emily's still form as she shovels food in her mouth in relative silence.
You wonder if that's all they've noticed. It's not something huge after all, just a few minuscule shifts in her gearsโthe way she stares off sometimes, past the files and whiteboard; her slower than usual movements. Just tired, you tell yourself.
But the thing is, this has become a pattern. You've tracked it across states: New York and Montana and Oregon and Pennsylvania and Texas and Georgia. At first you thought it was some kind of homesickness, but now you're lumping it in with everything that's unusual about Emily.
And when you do that, the pieces click together, coaxed into an explanation by months upon months of suspicion. It's a flimsy, ridiculous thing, but the most solid theory you've got. And you have a solution.
You knock on her door after dinner, harder than necessary. She opens it, frowning, dark circles under her eyes and a spaghetti-strapped tank ridden just over her waistline.
"Hey."
You step in and close the door behind you. Her confusion deepens.
You take a good look at her, here. The pallor of her skinโoff-colored, sickly. The deep darkness of her eyes, fully black now, pupils eating away at irises. They glint flatly, huge. Questioning. Not a hint of brown left.
"Y/N?" She shifts, trying to shake off your gaze. She's bare-faced, makeup wiped off. Her mouth is leeched of its usual red.
You can't even think to mince your words. "You're hungry, aren't you?" You ask outright, ripping a bandaid off. "Is that it? You haven't fed in days."
Emily laughs, a touch too late. "What?"
"Don't make me say it, because we both know it'll sound ridiculous. I'm not gonna give you the whole Twilight monologue."
You're silently astonished at how steady your voice is. How calm you are, neatly delivering yourself into the arms of an apex predator.ย
Your insides tremble at that word.ย Predator.ย
She's just Emily. And you want to help her.
She stares.
You surge forward and grab her wrist, curling your fingers around the cold stretch of skin where her pulse should lie.ย Unnatural. Just the feel of it, frigid as if she'd just come in from a cold night. You dig your thumb in.ย
Silence. For so many of your own trembling heartbeats, Emily's heart lies still. Your eyes snap to hers, your breath hitching.
Then, it brushes against your thumb. One singular beat, a slow, sluggish thump, before her skin goes quiet again. Five seconds. Ten.
Your fingers tighten around her wrist, victory.ย
Impossibility.
Her eyes darken, the corner of her mouth ghosting upward.
"Took you longer than I thought it would." She murmurs, low and gravelly. Each word drags over your skin, trailing, bumping. You squeeze your shoulders against the shiver that waits at the top of your spine.
She meets your gaze head on, even, unflinching.ย Tired.ย
You swallow, your voice coming out breathless. "Does anyone else know?"
She shakes her head, peeling her wrist from your grip. "They're not as smart as you, are they? They don't watch me nearly as much."
Your cheeks flush with heat. Emily's eyes stray there as if she can see the blood pooling under your skin. Faster than you can blink, she's turning on her heel. As you're breathing out a gasp, she spreads herself along the length of her bed, eyes closing, arms stretched and crossed over her head.ย
At first glance, the action seems lazy, indulgent. A closer one has you noticing the tension drawing her taut.
You involuntarily step forward. The edge of the bed hits your thighs, pressing against your urge to lean in close, examine her under the new light of your revelation. Even ragged, worn, she glows.
Your hands twitch at your sides.
"Go on," she drawls, eyes still closed. "I know you have questions."
"Can you read my mind?" You blurt out, then cringe.
She chuckles dryly. "No." Then, she turns teasing, a bite to it that nips at your composure. "Been thinking about me?"
Yes.ย An ungodly amount.
You don't voice it, though you guess the skip in your pulse gives you away. You clear your dry throat.
"When did you lastโ" you hesitate, swallowing. "Eat?"
That's probably not the correct terminology.
Her eyes blink open.
"An hour ago," she says, her voice deceptively even. You can see the taut cords in her neck as she swallows. "You can't have forgotten already."
"You know what I mean. When did you lastโฆfeed?"
The corner of her mouth ticks up. "You don't have to be so gnarly." She murmurs.
"Well, you didn't answer me straight." You snap.
Emily inhales a deep breath. You see her chest rise with it and wonder if she even has to breathe, or if she does it just for show. To blend in. It sounds so exhaustingโreminding yourself to act human.
"Eight days ago." She says, a faint rasp in her voice.
You frown, gnawing on your lip. "How long do you usually go without?"
"Less."
You glare again. Emily stares back, obstinate.
You crumble before she does. Restlessness beats inside you as you edge her closer to where you're trying to get her. You're overly hot, your blood humming. Your hands are clammy. A fine sweat slicks the back of your neck; your shirt, though light, is nearly unbearable on your skin.
Emily is still watching you. She can hold herself so incredibly still. Nothing moves, not even her eyes.ย
Predator, you think again.
You wet your lips.ย
"You can't do it on cases, can you?"
A breath sighs out of her. "No." She closes her eyes, shifts soundlessly on the bed. "Not usually."
You sit on the edge of the bed, a whisper away from her arm. The mattress dips, and she still doesn't move. This close, you can see the shadows of her lashes on her cheeks, pulled long and pointy. Her brows are gathered, a small slope carved between them. She looks so normal. So elegant. But when you look closer, she starts to feel eerily perfect. The straight line of her nose. The plush, heart-shaped pillow of her mouth. Her bone structure, strong and delicate, carved out of marble with a precise hand.ย
You want to pull back her lips, run your fingers along the points of her teeth. Just let your skin split open, watch the frown disappear from her face, relief taking its place. A little, involuntary sigh as you catch her off guard. Her hand around yours, her tongue around your fingersโthen, a bigger itch taking over, your wrist tugged to her mouth, her teeth closing inโ
"What happens when you go this long?"
"Nothing," she says. "Won't kill me."
"But it's uncomfortable."
She hums.
You shift next to her. Your pulse spikes as you roll over the wording in your head, lining your offering up carefully on your tongue.ย
Emily's eyes fly open. They're dark as coals, pitch black, just as searing hot.
Your stomach drops.
"No." She says flatly.
You give her a bewildered look, heart tripping. "I didn't say anything."
She sits up so fast you jerk back. "No, I won't feed from you." She snarls.
"Well why not!" You press. "Just take a little, it won't kill me."
Won't it?ย you think too late.
Emily glowers, her jaw clenched tight. "Oh, you think it's thatย easy, do you?" She spits out. You've never seen her this angry before, buzzing with it. "You think I can pace myself? You think I can stop once I've had a taste?" Her voice is thick with revulsion, eyes burning black. "I'll bleed you dry."
"You won't," you insist. "I know you won't." The words do nothing to soften her, but you don't care. You're not going to run off and she's not going to hurt you. "We've only been here two fucking days, Emily! Who knows how much longer we'll be staying? Andโlet's face it, you're not at your best right now. We need you." You inhale, wetting your lips, "And if you'd just let meย helpโ"
She gives you a look so withering you pause, the words dying in your throat.
"Get out."
"No." You affirm. She makes a frustrated sound, deep in her chest; you ignore it and shift closer, climbing further onto the bed, letting your knee nudge her thigh. You're not scared of her. No matter how fast your heart beats.
"Emily," you say, nearly sighing it out. "Come on. Why won't you let me do it?"
Her hands are two pale fists curled into the sheets.ย
"I'llย killย you. How else do you want me to get it through your head?" She swallows thickly. Her voice drops, quietens. "I'll kill you."
You shake your head. "I trust you."
She laughs bitterly. "You don't even know me."
A frustrated sound lodges in your own chest. You're moving before you can think the better of itโsitting yourself right in her lap, your thighs hugged around her waist, those dark eyes closer than you've ever seen them.ย
Emily's breath hitches.ย
"Don't you get tired of lying to yourself?" You murmur. "I know you want this. I know you'll be careful. You've never hurt me. You couldn't."
You run your hands up her armsโfreezing, lean muscle. Solid under your fingertips, not an inch of her soft. "Jesus Christ." You breathe. "Look at you. You could crush me at any moment." So simply, so easilyโin a myriad of ways. She could crush your windpipe or tear your throat out or bash your head in. You skim along the firm slopes of her shoulders, bring your hands up and down, pushing against her chest, the full force of your palms against her torso.
"Y/Nโ"
"You could kill me a hundred ways." You meet the bottomless depths of her eyes. She has freckles. Soft, like cinnamon, dusted over the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. "Have you?" You whisper.
"It's not the same." She bites out. She's trembling under you. Still trembling when you kiss her.
She gasps into your mouth, cold against your lip, hot against your tongue.ย Soft. For a second she holds herself still. Then, you coax with your mouth and she wilts, responding, a hungry, pained sound humming through your lip.ย
Her heart gives a single thump under your fingertips. Your own heart beats much faster.
"Liar," you breathe against her mouth. She's so stubborn. So headstrong. You cradle her jaw, sift your fingers through her inky hair. "Come on, baby. I'll make you feel so good, just take it."
She burns colder against you. Her hands spread wide on your hips, fingers digging in; she squeezes so tight you're sure she'll leave bruises. Fuck, you want her to.
"Why?" She whispers. "Why do you want to do this?"
A sigh stirs in your chest. Your voice is full with it, airy and soft as you meet her eyes. "C'mon. Look at you, Emily. You're in pain."
She shakes her head, but it's an absent movement. Her eyes are dark, wide. Hungry. "It won't kill me." She repeats hoarsely.ย
"It's killingย me." You admit, leaning your cheek against hers, your fingers tightening in her hair. "Seeing you like this. I can help, let me help. Don't be so fucking stubborn." You plead.
You close your eyes and realize another impossibility: you're sitting, on her lap, the cold of her skin spread across your cheek and your mouth still buzzing with the weight of hers on it. Often you've had dreams of you doing this exact thing, dreams where you're braver, louder, bolder, dreams that had you waking up sticky and wanting.ย
You've gone possessed in your desperation. Everything feels hazy, like you've stepped into a parallel universe, a bubble suspended above time and reason. And still, you can't bring yourself to feel bad about any of it.
She's still unmoving, save for an exhale that sweeps against your neck. Vampires shouldn't have this much control, you think. But before she's any creature she's Emily, and Emily does have this much control. Impenetrable.
Unnecessary.
You shift on top of her, adjusting your thighs around her waist, setting yourself more squarely on her lap. If she really wanted you out, she'd have tossed you out the door with no trouble. Emily can never be the one to ask, the one to take. You have to offer. And you'll keep doing it until she gives in to the yawning ache.
"You do so much, for everyone," you murmur. "For me. And you never let us do anything back. It's not fair."
She's deathlike under you. Only her hands, twitching on your hips, stir any movement.
Fuck it.
You lean back and reach for the top button of your shirt. Your fingers shake as you thumb it open, then reach for the one below it, and the other one, Emily's eyes following the path of skin that parts open. A faint sheen of perspiration makes you glow.ย
She inhales, sharply. The last button pops free, and you slide your shoulder out, breathless.ย
"Let go," you coax. "I want you to."
A low sound pulls out of her, thick and growling.ย Inhuman. Your stomach drops, heat spreading.
Fuck. Jesus, fuck.
"Put it back on," she says weakly. "Get the fuck out, Y/N.ย Please." She breathes, begging. Her hands are balled into fists, the sheets splitting open under her grip.
"Shh, it's okay," you murmur, pulling your other shoulder out and tossing the shirt somewhere on the bed. You don't know where it lands. You can't look away from her.ย
"It's okay," you say again, cupping the back of her neck, coaxing her to yours. She fights you halfheartedly. "Come on, sweetness. I want you to."
You see her eyes flutter closed. She makes another sound, reluctant, close-mouthed. Then, so softlyโher lips brush your neck.ย
"You don't."
Your pulse jumps.
She circles it with her mouth, exhales. Your skin fogs with heat. You shiver, gripping her shoulders. "You don't want this," she repeats.
You dig your fingers in. "I doโ"
"You're a masochist." She breathes. "Insane. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Her nose skims up the column of your throatโshy, teasing. The touch skips here and there, light as butterfly wings. It dizzies you.
"Just wanna help," you manage.
"This isn't helping. Godโdo you have any ideaโ" Her voice breaks, going ragged. "Do you have any idea howย goodย you smell? Jesus fucking Christ," she breathes. It pulses between your legs. "So sweet."
You tremble, swallowing against the brush of her lips.ย
Her hands trail up. One holds your hip down firm, the other planting low on your back. Keeping you down. Holding you still. She's freezing against your bare, feverish skin.
Your pulse surges. A rumble seeps through her chest, into yours. The vibrations press into your skin, melding with her soft groan, breathed into your neck.
"The first time I saw you, I almost blacked out. Sweetest thing I've ever smelled." She whispers. You wait for the pierce of fangs, their points over your pulse, but she only laves kisses with her mouth, mapping out the expanse of your throat. "God, I could almost taste you. You know what that's like? Like you drowned yourself in perfume, and every time I breathedโevery time I opened my mouthโyou were there. Always on my tongue. You were overwhelming," she rasps, rambling now, the words all tumbling out one after the other. Then, quieter: "You still are."
"You waited so long." You croak, your nails digging into the slopes of her shoulders. Every inch of you is strung tight. "Come on. Tell me how I taste."
Emily makes a low sound, something like a hum but thicker. Purringโa growl pulled long and deep, reverberating through your bones. Her lips part. Twin blades ghost over your skin.
You jerk, gasping.
"Still want me to tell you?"
"Yes."ย You gasp. "Yes, Emilyโ"
The touch makes you go quiet. Soft, closed-mouthed, a kiss brushed to the hollow of your throat. Then, as your knees tremble, two needle points sinking into your flesh.
You cry out, grabbing her hair in a fist. The sting burns behind your eyes, two throbbing slits that makes them flood with heat.ย
It quickly fades. Wetness smears on your collarbone, her mouth or your blood you don't know. You just know the sting, the skip in your pulse like your heart knows it's being taken from, and Emily's wrecked pleasure.
Behind your closed eyes, all you can hear is something wet: the lap of her tongue, the rush of your blood. Then, underโlow, breathless groans, punched out between faint mutters.ย Fuckย andย so sweetย andย angel angel angel.ย Her voice is barely decipherable; it's simmered down to something primal, gnashes of teeth and the choked growls between them as she eats.
And, everywhere, there's heat. Between your lashes, pooled into your underwear, pulsing, pulsing, at your throat. Even her hands are now scorching. They climb up your ribs, thumb under the cups of your bra, tease the wet hollow that's neither here nor there but you don't think she notices. Her fingers slip on sweat, losing purchase when she tries to dig them in.ย
Your spine goes weak. You blink your eyes open, forcing a breath in. It goes tightly, quickly sucked away.ย
"Emily," you gasp. You don't know what you want. You press yourself harder to her waist, searching for pressure. "Emilyโ" You tug on her hair, your inhale becoming hers, from your mouth to your throat to her lips.
Your vision goes hazy.
In an instant, her hands are on your hips, lifting you up. Suddenly your back is pushing into the mattress, her thigh between yours. You glimpse the bloodied tip of a fang, the webbing of red spread across her cheeks, before her tongue is pressed flat to your neck, heat on heat, pouring a violent shiver down your spine.
-
If Emily could still cry, she would.
"Angel," she rasps. "Fuck, you're an angel." Heaven-sent.
Her hips roll down against your thigh, heat seeping through her jeans. Friction teases, shooting like a bolt when it hits right. She presses down harder, hears both of you gasp, feels your blood sweetenย impossiblyย on her tongue.ย
She almost blacks out then.
It takes everything in her not to suck. Your blood oozes down your neck, steady and sweet, and she laps at it, gathers it all on her tongue drop by drop. She itches to widen her jaw around your throat, suck straight from your jugular, butโyou've never hurt me, you couldn't.ย
She couldn't.ย
So she limits herself to this, and still feels her eyes roll back.
She hasn't had human blood in so long. Decades. She drowns in it, loses herself. You're hot and syrupy, her teeth aching at the silky slip of your sweetness. She's slick at the mouth, between her spread thighs.
Not all blood tastes the same. There's always that metallic undertone, thick iron, but that's where the similarities end. Some people taste sour, like curdled milk. Some have a tang of salt. Some are just the metal, plain. Doesn't matter how any of it tastes; the effect is the same for Emilyโstrength returning to her bones, a sharpness clearing out the fog in her head, and that's all she cares for. She's not doing it for pleasure.
Butย you. God, the taste of you. She's drunk from sweet-blooded humans before, ones who tasted like sugar, ones who dripped into her mouth like molasses. None of them come close to you. Nothing so saccharine.
Greedily, she lets your blood drip down even after she's had her necessary fill. Her body's sharp, her head clear. The thirst is quenched, dryness wetted at the back of her throat.ย
But. She just wants a little bit more. Just to keep the taste in her mouth a little while longer.
And youโpoor, oblivious, helpless youโyou just take it. You jut lie there and let her drain you, your nails sunk into her flesh, the occasional gasp sputtering from your lips. You're so patient; you don't rush her or tell her to stop. You let her drink and drink and drink.ย
Emily has long since stopped believing in god. But you, you're heaven-sent.
And she's not going to suck you dry.
When she finally manages to lick your wounds shut, she looks up and finds you dazed. You've lost your usual color, your eyes not entirely focused.
"Done?" You ask. The words are a little thick in your mouth, just the slightest bit clumsy.
"Done," she promises, reaching for your discarded shirt. It's crumpled and creased; Emily guides your arms through the sleeves, watching you closelyโthe twitch in your mouth, your slow hum, blown pupils. The lace on your chest, delicate and oh so pretty. Her knuckles graze it as she does up the buttons of your shirt. A shudder rolls through you.
"This is pretty," she murmurs idly, half to keep your eyes from fluttering shut. Half because she likes it. "You got all dolled up, put on a fancy bra for me?" Her lips turn up. "I know you don't wear these every day."
Warmth returns to your cheeks. You nip at your lip, shy.
"X-ray vision?"
She shakes her head. "Lace chafes."ย
It's torture, hearing it under your clothes on the rare occasion. Every time, it had her wondering: what color it'd be, why you're wearing it, if there's someone you're wearing itย for. She barely sleeps anyway, but when she hears it under your clothes, she knows she won't have a moment's peace until you take it off.
She fastens the button that lands between the valley of your breasts. Before she can stop herself, she leans down, presses a kiss there, wet and bloody.ย
Your breath hitches.ย
"Thank you, Y/N."
-
"You did so good for me." She whispers. "Sweet girl. You're perfect."
You shiver, from the praise or the silken cadence of her voice or the blood loss, you don't know. You're a strange mix of hot and cold.
Emily's eyes are soft. "Here." She helps you sit upright, an arm around your back, pressing something into your hand. "Drink."
You blink down at the juice box in your hand, cold from a fridge. You don't know where she got it from or when she got up. Doesn't matter. She guides your hand up until the straw is between your teeth, sweet apple hitting your tongue. It's so artificially sugary you nearly spit it right out.ย
Your fingers squish the juice box. Emily comes into clearer focus, sitting in front of you, stroking your arm. The dark circles are gone from under her eyes. Her touch is cold again.
The sweetness of the juice forces a rasp in your voice. "Feel good, Emily?" You murmur.
She smiles, blindingly beautiful.
"Never better, baby."
You flush with heat. Draining the juice, you crush the box between your fingers.
"How did I taste?"
Emily's eyes gleam. They're back to their usual glittering brown, chocolatey and deep. Her lips press against your forehead, leaving a small smear of something wet on your skin.ย
"Like honey."
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