#i had a grudge against it as a child lol

[suikatto]

C.A Cupid's redesign/in my style

She's my absolute favorite character of monster high even tho she only appears in one movie and one episode ;u;

#monster high #c.a cupid #monster high cupid #i know she appears more in eah but i'm honestly not a fan of that version #i had a grudge against it as a child lol #also i just like her monster design better

[7s3ven]

can you please do poseidon/reader and she finds out luke is the lightning thief?

THE GRUDGE. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N can’t forgive Luke for his crimes despite loving him more than she loves herself.

“I know in my heart hurt people, hurt people. And we both drew blood, but, man, those cuts were never equal.”

Warnings : spoilers, small angst (in my opinion lol. I’m more sensitive to family/friendship angst, not relationship angst), short(ish) oneshot

A/N : to any other writers, do you ever act out the situations you’re writing so you can write a better descriptions of reactions and then you realise that you’re actually a good actor?

Because I literally just acted out Y/N’s reaction and either I’m great at fake crying (which has been a talent of mine) … or my heart-wrenching sobs were real 😨. Also, the song one of us from the Lion King suits Luke perfectly.

—

The life of a half-blood wasn’t easy, especially not when you were a forbidden child. Y/N flipped through her fashion magazine, aimlessly swinging her legs as she lay on her front. “Y/N.” Luke called out, pushing the creaky door open. She lifted her head, staring at him curiously.

“Hey, Luke.” She smiled at him, clasping her hands together. He grinned back, slowly walking over to her side.

“You feeling okay?” He asked, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. With Percy, her half-brother gone, she was alone in her cabin. Again.

Y/N gazed at him through her lashes. “Yeah. I’m good. I’m fine.” She whispered, reaching out to grasp his wrist. Luke bit the inside of his cheek.

“I have your phone.” Luke uttered, handing Y/N her device. Phones weren’t allowed in camp but Luke found a way around that, much to Y/N’s happiness. She had spent far too long in the mortal world to give up scrolling through social media.

“Thanks, love.” Her pink-tinted lips curved into a soft smile. “You have no idea how much I need this now that Percy is gone on his quest. It’s so lonely here.”

Y/N always hated being in her own company. Her cabin got messy and she never had the motivation to clean it. She was thankful for Luke because he always helped her with the mundane task that should have been easy, but not for her.

“No problem, princess.” Luke lightly kissed her forehead while she laughed. “I can’t wait until Percy is back because I have a feeling that things are about to change.” Nothing good lasts for long. Y/N, more than anyone, knew that. She stalked through the thick vegetation, harbouring a heavy sword. She had heard rumours of Luke… and she needed to confirm it for herself, even if it meant endangering her safety.

“Luke.” She called out, her voice shaking. She didn’t want to believe the rumours but Luke was unpredictable. Ever since returning from his quest, he hadn’t been the same.

Y/N had been at Camp Half-Blood for longer than most and she had seen demigods come and go, desperately searching for glory but never finding enough of it.

“Luke.” She said again, repeating it like it was a mantra that would save him from the terrible fate he had chosen. She dragged her sword against the ground, her eyes scanning for the slightest bit of movement amongst the trees.

She sighed, thinking of returning to camp before she spotted a flicker of orange. "Luke?" She whispered, but he still heard her. She stepped towards him, breathing heavily.

"Luke... what... is it true? Did you..." Y/N couldn't find the right words. "What did you do, Luke?" She asked, grabbing him by the front of his shirt when she noticed how he avoided her gaze and how his eyes looked so guilty. "What did you do?!"

"I did what I had to, Y/N. The gods... they don't care about us." Luke stiffened as Y/N glowered at him, her eyes filled with so much rage and hate and sadness and everything in between.

"You're wrong, Luke!" She exclaimed, harshly shaking him.

"I'm not like you, Y/N! My father doesn't care about me. Yours might give a shit about you but that doesn't apply to anyone! Look around you. Poseidon ignored Percy for years while nurturing you. My father abandoned my mother and I when he could have helped us. Ares hates Clarisse for being a girl and forces her to train harder until she collapses. They try so hard to find every little flaw in us that they ignore what we've done for them."

"But why this, Luke? Why betray us? Me! You betrayed me, Luke! And all your friends and family! Hermes may not give a shit about you, but I do! I have loved you since we first met, Luke! I fucking love you and you betrayed me!" Y/N slammed her fists against his chest, screaming until tears welled up in her eyes. "What did you do to Percy?" She muttered, her voice barely even a whisper. "Tell me. Tell me now and I might spare you! Please… please.” She hiccuped, her hits growing weaker.

Luke wheezed as Y/N gripped his throat for a split second. "He'll be fine... he only got stung."

"I hate you." Y/N seethed, rage engulfing her soft heart until it spilled out and poisoned her body with its toxins. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you! Gods, I hate you, Luke! Fuck you! Fuck… you!” She screamed, the sound echoing around the empty trees.

But she still couldn't bring herself to stab him. "Get out of here, Luke. Go! Leave! I never want to see your face again!" Y/N's voice shook as she shoved Luke away from her.

Heart-wrenching sobs slipped past her lips as she pointed an accusing finger at Luke. "The gods have fucked up, Luke, but you are no different. Maybe you had the right idea at first... but you went with it the wrong way. And it cost you everything. Don't go near Percy again. Don’t you dare touch him ever again! You don’t deserve his kindness! Don't even look at him because I promise you, if you do, I will drive a stake through your heart!” Y/N's confident voice faltered for a moment. She shakily inhaled. "I hope you're happy with yourself." That fated day still haunted Y/N's mind. She often had nightmares about it, where things turned out different had she stabbed Luke. She always woke up with a loud gasp, covered in a light layer of sweat.

On her nightside table, her phone rang. She hadn't been using it much since Luke left. She slowly reached for it. Nobody had her phone number except her close friend, who lived in Tokyo, her cousin, and... Luke.

Her heart was beating unusually fast as she shakily turned the device over to peer at the screen. Her stomach churned and she dropped her phone in horror. Percy was in the infirmary, still recovering from the pit scorpion attack. She was somewhat thankful for that.

She let the phone ring, letting out a sigh of relief when it finally stopped. But it started again, and again. Until on the third ring, she finally clicked the green button.

She didn't say anything, flinching at the sound of Luke's voice. "Y/N? Y/N. Thank goodness you picked up! I knew you weren't going to answer my iris message so I was hoping your phone was working."

Y/N cut Luke off from his ranting. "Luke... don't call me again."

"Wait, Y/N. Please listen to me. I love"-

She hung up before he could finish. She stared at her phone, gripping it tightly. With a guttural scream, she threw it across the room. It landed safely on Percy's bed and a part of her was glad that it did. It was one of the only things she had left from Luke.

She didn't know if she could ever forgive Luke for betraying her trust. And the worst thing was that she still loved him from the bottom of her heart. "You good?" Y/N quietly walked towards Percy, helping him sit up. He groaned.

"Yeah. I'm sorry about Luke... I know how much he meant to you." Percy's eyes softened as he stared at Y/N, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"He, uh... tried calling me last night." Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line.

Percy tilted his head to the side. "So what'd you do?"

"I ignored him until the third time... then I hung up after I told him to stop contacting me."

"You don't have to be so tough all the time, Y/N." Percy uttered, pulling her into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her waste and she sighed.

"I really want to scream, Percy. I just... can't believe he could do that so easily. I mean, leave us... leave me. I'm trying not to care and I'm trying to say I'm fine but I can't let it go." Tears welled up again, dripping down the red apples of her cheeks.

Y/N would be lying if she said she hadn’t tried to figure out why Luke did what he did. She tried to piece everything together but it only hurt her head and heart to think.

After ensuring Percy was comfortable, she stepped outside. The camp was in utter chaos after Luke’s betrayal and they were trying to find more spies amongst them. Most people suspected Y/N because she ran into the woods to confront Luke and she was closely associated with him, which didn’t help. But she loved her friends and she could never leave them as Luke had.

She wandered into a small clearing, dipping her hand into a cold river nearby to calm herself. She didn’t even notice someone was watching her from behind until they cleared their throat.

With a panicked gasp, Y/N looked over her shoulder. She was expecting a fellow camper, maybe even Luke, but not Hermes in all his glory. The pair stared at each other for a minute before Hermes finally broke the awkward silence.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He hesitatingly pointed at her, worried he had the wrong girl.

She nodded.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see after Luke left.” Hermes started off, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Luke is the last person I want to see.” Y/N retorted, “You’re second on that list.”

“He really did like you, you know."

“It wasn’t enough apparently.” Y/N shrugged, already accepting that she could tear Luke from his fate, “Maybe I deserved the betrayal… but not from Luke. He practically made me into the person I am. I guess he wanted to see how high he could build me before I fell. He had everything yet he still wanted more.”

“He cared about you. Dare I say, Y/N, he love”-

She cut him off just as she had cut Luke off. “Don’t say he loved me because if he did then he wouldn’t have done this! He… he wouldn’t have done all this!” Y/N choked on her words as she bit back a sob.

“He still loves you. Not loved. Not past-tense. Never past-tense. I’ve seen him, you know. He misses you and for a while, he tried to contact you in every way he could just so he could hear your voice. Even if you were screaming at him. I know that in another life, he wishes he didn’t have to leave you behind.”

“There shouldn’t be another life!” Y/N exclaimed. Getting angry at a god was dangerous but she was so frustrated and angry and hurt. Hermes didn’t seem to mind. He nodded his head, understanding her emotions. “Don’t you get it? You also have to take the blame. You’re part of the reason why he betrayed us!”

“He’ll forgive me eventually.”

Y/N shook her head. “No. You and every other deity thinks that your neglected child will forgive you but they might not. They might forgive but they will never forget. If I can’t even forgive the boy I love with all my heart, how do you think Luke will ever forgive you?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Forgiveness takes strength." Hermes whispered, barely loud enough for Y/N to hear. "Luke is much stronger than I originally thought and you, the mighty daughter of the sea god himself, are too.”

“Yeah, well,” Y/N shrugged as she stood up, brushing the dirty off her pants. “I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”

“It takes time.” Hermes said, “Meanwhile, I would suggest answering that.” He pointed at her phone that was ringing in her hand. Y/N didn’t even notice with how distracted she was.

She briefly looked down at the screen and raised her head again, her lips parting when Hermes was nowhere to be seen.

She hesitatingly pressed the accept button and raised her phone to her ear. She heard him quietly gasp, surprised she even answered again. “Luke… hi.”

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303 @2hiigh2cry @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

#luke castellan x you #annabeth chase #grover underwood #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #camp half blood #olivia rodrigo #percy jackson show #rick riordan #ares percy jackson #greek mythology #poseidon #the lightning thief #dionysus pjo #percy jackson spoilers #pjo series #pjo show #percy jackson series #percy jackson fanfiction #luke castellan fanfic

[atlabeth]

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.1k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake. 

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point. 

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel. 

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there. 

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always. 

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.” 

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?” 

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.” 

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.” 

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says. 

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes. 

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says. 

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.” 

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs. 

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.” 

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.” 

-

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file. 

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene. 

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house. 

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt. 

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control. 

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.  

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics. 

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it. 

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.  

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything. 

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect. 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.” 

“What has he been charged for?” 

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail last year, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs. 

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind. 

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive. 

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh. 

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising. 

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock. 

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford. 

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.” 

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?” 

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?” 

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says. 

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…” 

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house. 

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all. 

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub. 

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.” 

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?” 

He nods. “I had a change of heart.” 

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.” 

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.” 

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Charles area.” 

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him. 

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things: 

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be. 

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school. 

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts. 

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says. 

You glower at him, but you stay silent. 

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.” 

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.” 

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?” 

You nod. “He lives with me.” 

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away. 

“Why is that?” Hotch asks. 

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too. 

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”  

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going. 

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.” 

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.” 

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?” 

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you. 

“Really?” 

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him. 

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her. 

And he didn’t even know when she died. 

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad. 

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went five years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says. 

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb. 

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.” 

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.” 

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even. 

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.” 

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.” 

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.” 

“Do you want them to?” 

“...No.” 

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.” 

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.” 

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.” 

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says. 

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.” 

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.” 

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door. 

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again. 

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up. 

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?” 

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.” 

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. 

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.” 

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case— 

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.  

You’ve changed a lot. So has he. 

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him. 

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind. 

-

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.” 

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!” 

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.” 

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts. 

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief. 

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe. 

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused. 

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.” 

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.” 

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses. 

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once. 

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck. 

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on. 

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity. 

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs. 

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world. 

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air. 

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

- 

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger. 

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it. 

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.  

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing. 

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people. 

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong. 

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you. 

Because god— what are the odds? 

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother? 

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years. 

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time. 

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you. 

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.” 

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties. 

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. 

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?” 

“Not one for small talk,” you remark. 

“I never have been.” 

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.” 

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now. 

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face. 

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.” 

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.” 

“And home is?” 

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.” 

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says. 

“Sources can lie.” 

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.” 

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up. 

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had. 

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened. 

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”   

“None of those sound like questions,” you say. 

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

“You don’t know,” he repeats. 

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I don’t ask questions.” 

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it.” 

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.” 

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?” 

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.” 

“You didn’t tell him—” 

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?” 

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse. 

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.” 

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.” 

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.” 

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?” 

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.” 

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply. 

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly. 

“And you’re wrong, by the way.” 

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken. 

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.” 

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you. 

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.” 

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.” 

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.” 

“...I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least. 

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.” 

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.” 

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.” 

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.” 

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron. 

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“You know th—” 

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.” 

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.” 

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file. 

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking. 

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.” 

“The profile—” 

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.” 

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.” 

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly. 

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this. 

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right. 

You have to be right. 

The room feels even colder. 

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do. 

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him. 

-

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room. 

“She does not like you.” 

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie. 

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.” 

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands. 

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor. 

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.” 

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.” 

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him. 

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him. 

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things. 

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.” 

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again. 

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.” 

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.” 

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.” 

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation. 

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.” 

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego. 

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.” 

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside. 

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch… 

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. 

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you. 

“They sent a new one in,” you say. 

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual. 

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off. 

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.” 

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation. 

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time. 

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks. 

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks. 

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says. 

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet. 

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong. 

-

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier. 

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once. 

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron. 

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s head as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard. 

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you. 

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round. 

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed. 

Aaron says your name, and you hum. 

“Are you listening?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you say. 

“Your eyes are closed.” 

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?” 

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly. 

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully. 

Your eyes open and you frown. 

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate. 

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.” 

“...Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?” 

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron. 

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction. 

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up. 

“Go for it,” you finally say. 

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?” 

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.” 

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.” 

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything. 

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand. 

Sometimes you need reminders. 

“I love you too.” 

-

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.” 

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs. 

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third. 

No one expected this to happen so soon. 

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt. 

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work. 

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation. 

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved. 

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it. 

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press. 

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.” 

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.” 

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.” 

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on. 

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.” 

-

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight. 

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city. 

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information. 

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.” 

“What are they?” Hotch asks. 

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says. 

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks. 

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.” 

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.” 

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.” 

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests. 

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.” 

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?” 

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.” 

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully. 

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.” 

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.  

“And?” Hotch asks. 

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.” 

Hotch frowns. You? 

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.” 

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again. 

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.” 

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.” 

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up. 

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.” 

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.” 

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.” 

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died five years ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail last year.” 

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.” 

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.” 

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.” 

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.” 

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.” 

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.” 

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says. 

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods. 

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him. 

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says. 

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks. 

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.” 

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him. 

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him. 

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?” 

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.” 

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.  

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?” 

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—” 

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.” 

“What would I do without you?” he asks. 

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.” 

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up. 

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him. 

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze. 

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind. 

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”  

And he does. 

-

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear. 

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale. 

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame. 

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner. 

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff. 

Of course you have to deal with this now. 

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down. 

“You’re already packed.” 

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.” 

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning. 

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask. 

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. 

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks. 

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?” 

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.” 

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.” 

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit. 

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”  

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him. 

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?” 

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

You take the box from him and smile thinly. 

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

-

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open. 

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.” 

“They haven’t been back, have they?” 

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail. 

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests. 

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.” 

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops. 

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff. 

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.” 

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. 

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.” 

“I agree with you,” he says. 

“That’s it,” you muse. 

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up. 

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.” 

“...Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.” 

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?” 

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to. 

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.” 

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Then what are you saying?” 

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.” 

“What have they said about me?” he asks. 

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…” 

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.” 

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.” 

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.” 

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.” 

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.” 

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home. 

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up. 

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.” 

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before. 

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard. 

Then, there’s nothing. 

-

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is. 

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at. 

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims. 

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters. 

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that. 

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him. 

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.  

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that. 

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?” 

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.” 

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.” 

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching. 

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up. 

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night. 

And now… 

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not. 

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?” 

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it. 

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.” 

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.” 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly. 

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him. 

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.” 

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words. 

-

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why. 

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes. 

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs. 

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze. 

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.” 

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.” 

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body. 

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life. 

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.” 

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.” 

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?” 

“...You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.” 

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.” 

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.” 

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say. 

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.” 

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.” 

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises. 

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother had divorced him by then, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided. 

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?” 

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!” 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.” 

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.” 

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to. 

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly. 

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget. 

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out. 

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here. 

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now. 

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.” 

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.” 

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.” 

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.” 

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says. 

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats. 

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.” 

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.” 

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?” 

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.” 

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you. 

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns. 

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think. 

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?” 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.” 

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave. 

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.” 

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.” 

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?” 

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.” 

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.” 

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.” 

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.” 

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.” 

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”  

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.” 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you. 

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.” 

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you. 

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it. 

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground. 

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you. 

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him. 

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force. 

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead. 

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake. 

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms. 

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment. 

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.” 

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers. 

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron. 

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!” 

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete. 

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.” 

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name. 

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die. 

-

You wake up in the hospital alone.  

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you. 

The real surprise is that you wake up at all. 

Lucas is dead. 

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded. 

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real. 

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life. 

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day. 

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all. 

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life. 

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind. 

He was going to kill you. 

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU. 

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner. 

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him. 

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you. 

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.” 

“And how long have I been here?” 

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.” 

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask. 

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…” 

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.” 

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.  

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?” 

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start. 

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.” 

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.” 

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.” 

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!” 

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.” 

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—” 

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same. 

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life. 

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.” 

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues. 

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number. 

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.” 

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner. 

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.” 

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together. 

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.” 

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.” 

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit. 

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.” 

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.” 

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.” 

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out. 

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume. 

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.  

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.” 

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down. 

“Okay.” 

And he stays. 

This time, he stays.

#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it #i wrote 15k words in 5 days #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

[mcyt-trios]

PROPAGANDA:

Schlatt & Co.:

literally two guys running a business and their intern (aka Son). the worst father figures ever and a little guy. cryptocurrency scammers. they've been my lockscreen wallpaper for like a year

Capitalist family that's pathetic

they are the ultimates Guys with their Son. the Original Schlatt and Co. people always forget ty. he was crucial and i’m tired of people forgetting him. he is their son who tries his best but of course is a rebellious teen yknow. he don’t care (he does). and schlonnor are gay lol

They're so so silly and so so stupid. 2 gay business men and their weird kid/unpaid intern

iamty is a child of marriage fraud (fraud conducted by antvenom)

Please

3 Heart Trio:

theyre soo silly theyre just silly little guys who do things like mining an entire chunk in the center of the server's spawn for their own entertainment and to annoy everyone else

They are PATHETIC. They are ANNOYING. They are PERFECT. They are playing on three hearts and they die so much. They have a specialized raid platform that is NOT a raid farm. They are a team against exploits! Their base has 3 hearts above it representing them

these guys decided to put love and fun above all on the killing-lying server. while watching other teams betray and fall apart they have stuck with each other till the very last day of the server and never doubted one another. they worked like a clockwork, they knew they could only rely on themselves and at the end of the day, they didnt mind that it was that way

these guys got the short end of the stick time and time again throughout all of lifesteal s4, they were the targets of so many traps and attacks for no reason other than they were weak and always around. and despite it all they never wanted revenge and never held grudges! they cared about fun and friendship more than anything else, and while all the other teams ended up falling apart or betraying each other, these three stuck together from start to end. they didn't care about how many hearts they had, how much gear they had, or how powerful they were, because in the end all they needed was each other <3 i miss them so bad btw

#mcyt-trios #mcytblr trio bracket #mcyt #polls #round 4

[persephoneggsy]

so i did this a while back, finally remembered it, and now i'm posting it

Mass Effect x Dragon Age AU

I did one of these already, sort of, for ME: Andromeda, but this one is set in the Milky Way.

Elaborations below:

Merrill is a quarian who was exiled from the Migrant Fleet. She's looking for a way not to destroy the geth, but to bring them back under quarian control, thinking they're too valuable a resource to just get rid of. Unfortunately, this made many quarians view her as dangerous, and she was exiled for the crime of experimental geth research. Making Merrill a quarian was the first choice I did for this AU, I think it fits really well.

Aveline is an asari. I'd considered krogan or turian, or simply keeping her human, but in the end I went with asari mostly because Aveline always struck me as condescending in the same way many asari are, lol. She's a commando who later moved to the Citadel to join C-SEC.

Isabela is a turian. She's a barefaced turian, meaning she has no association to a colony. Instead of following the typical turian tradition of proudly serving in the Hierarchy's military, Isabela instead ran off to become a space pirate, specializing in smuggling. She frequents the bars around Omega and has earned herself a fearsome reputation among the mercenaries.

Bethany remains a human; she grew up on a colony world with her siblings, and had a relatively peaceful childhood, despite the Alliance constantly badgering her parents to send her and her older sister to their biotic training program.

Marian, also a human, eventually ran away from home to become a mercenary. She resented her father for forbidding her and her siblings from joining the Alliance - not because she was particularly patriotic, but she felt like her father's grudge against the Alliance prevented her and her siblings from receiving the best training possible. Her powerful biotics made her both an asset and a target, and she soon caught the eye of a certain Council Spectre...

Fenris is a drell. He was raised under the Compact, an agreement between the drell and the hanar, and his purpose was to become a bodyguard... And then his training group was attacked by batarian slavers and he was taken captive. For many years, Fenris suffered under the batarians' rule, until he finally managed to escape. Unwilling to return home, he instead roams the galaxy, taking out as many batarian slaving operations as he can.

Anders is a human who escaped from a biotic testing facility run by Cerberus. Though this left him with a grudge against Cerberus, he also hates the Alliance, whom he sees as no better and will also use biotic children as weapons. He dreams of establishing a safe haven for biotics, and is willing to go to increasingly drastic measures to see that dream become a reality.

Varric is a volus. Unlike his business-minded brother, Varric does not spend his days negotiating trade agreements or doing finance consultations. Spending his days at the Afterlife bar on Omega, he's an information broker, and a pretty damn good one at that. With his specially crafted weapon Bianca, he's not too bad in a fight, either.

Carver, much like his older sister, left home to seek out his own path, and ended up joining the Alliance against his parents' wishes. He thrived in the military, quickly climbing the ranks due to his strength and competency. He's being primed for N7 training under the wathcful eye of Spectre Sebastian Vael.

Sebastian is a human, and a Council Spectre (I'm imagining this AU as a sort of nebulous period where humanity isn't as looked down upon as they were at the start of ME1, and there are a fair number of human Spectres running around). A wild child in his youth, his parents sent him to the Alliance to straighten him out, and to their relief, it worked like a charm. He specializes in covert missions and favors sniper rifles and tech powers.

#my art #mass effect au #mass effect x dragon age au #sebhawke #yeah it's technically sebhawke bc of course sebastian and marian are going to kiss have you even met me #marian hawke #sebastian vael #i'm not tagging everyone lol #lowkey i was worried about posting this in case Weirdos(tm) saw it and grilled me about my choices but y'know #life is for living etc etc #and yeah a lot of them are obviously based on existing ME characters and backstories but I still like this

[mademoisellegush]

Enver Gortash, né Flymm: a tentative timeline

OR: I try to make sense of whatever the fuck is up with the Dark Urge's oiliest ex-fwb

enver flymm lives with his parents, sally and dravo flymm in the lower city, cobblers for generations, etc. he tinkers a lot, "traps and mechanisms", described as "needy, foolish, wicked, demanding attention, very crafty, smart boy - too smart" "He was always a little monster. Nasty to the core. He would've torn me and Dravo apart with his whining, his demands, the never-ending racket of him!" (note: they note that they made enver feel powerless, and this would have been the inciting incident that made him feel justice= revenge and fear)

the parents owe money to The Guild, the criminal organization that basically ran Baldur's Gate behind the scenes (everyone either owing them money or getting kickback / blackmail from it)

a warlock shows up and offers money for Enver. they sell their son to said warlock.

Enver seems to have changed his name then, either the warlock doing it or him denying the flymm name?

warlock then brings Enver to the House of Hope - I assume Raphael might have been his patron? which would mean raphael wanted enver from the start. Nubaldin, who used to work in the prison of the House of Hope, calls him "a mischievous little blot of a boy, who slipped through his fingers"

at some point during his stay in the prison of the House of Hope, Enver figures out about the Crown of Karsus held in Mephistopheles' vault. he escapes the house of hope

back in faerun's plane, he starts moving against the Guild. There's a report to Nine-Fingers, Guildmaster, of "upstart smuggler Enver Gortash making inroads on the illicit arms trade in the chionthar valley", though states it's more like "annexation", replacing the Knights of the Shield and the Zhentarim. definitely had a grudge to bear against them lol

Notes that seem to be from somwhere in this period of time:

"lavender scented diary of lady wisteria jannath" where hes like. seducing this old pariar for the diamond ring worth more than her mansion.

a letter to franc, a now deceased arms dealer, where hes like being a freak about how "weapons distributions continues like a parent saving their drowning child: swimmingly" and also how he loves "any man willing to birth a little more slithering wet malice into the world"

1482 DR (for sure, from dialogue with Karlach saying it's been ten years), he's selling Karlach (who looked up to and liked him !) to Zariel in order to get the prototype for his Steel Watchers. because i think he can't be satisfied with what he actually has, he wants *everyone* to like him, through being terrified of him and his weapons.

at some point, meets with the Dark Urge and ally together. they steal the crown of karsus with halsik's help. the Absolute hoax is put into motion

they get ketheric and myrkul in on it, after the crown heist, by digging isobel up so she can get necromanced.

Gondians fit here (as the note by Vance Farnol places it)

not too long before the game (at most a year? two?), orin poisons and tadpoles the Dark Urge and goes to Ketheric and Gortash to act as Bhaal's Chosen. Dark Urge becomes a test subject chew toy for Kressa Bonedaughter at Moonrise.

gortash tadpoles his parents "months" before the game, as sally flymm states if you talk to her.

My question: when did Enver Gortash find the Emperor/Balduran and bring him back under the domination of the Elder Brain, as part of taking down the Knights of the Shield? Or when he and the Dark Urge had acquired the Crown? does anyone have a screenshot of the interrogation sequence between those two?

(note: the emperor has a devnote for the emotions the Voice Actor was supposed to express when gortash proposes an alliance thats like. Yeah he's lying but i hate his guts, and you could always betray him first)

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #enver gortash #dark urge #im so normal about this game and its timeline im soooo normal #i wanna look at orin's whole thing too shes my joker girlfriend

[gudfornuthin]

Hi I was just wondering of you can make a Bernard x reader and maybe just a little lime or smut please thank you so much ❤❤❤

Sugar and Spice

Bernard the Elf x reader

Working as a baker at the North Pole was no easy task. Especially when the overbearing head elf is breathing down your neck. When true feelings are brought to light, how will you deal with them?

Thank you for the request! It’s not really smut as I’ve never written that before so it’s not intense but I’ve mixed this fic with an idea I already had. I kinda went off the rails lol. Hope you enjoy❤️

( gif credit to @corrodedcoffins )

It was an as always cold, winter morning at the North Pole. Elves scrambling around, making sure everything was complete and ready for Christmas. Less than two months to go and they were falling behind. Santa had only checked the naughty and nice list once, the workshop needed major renovations and three of the reindeer have fallen ill. Safe to say that everyone was on edge. Especially head elf, Bernard.

Striding across the grounds, his expression was anything but happy. Having a less than pleasant conversation with Curtis, he needed time away from the chaos, just for a moment. Bernard hated to admit, but he didn’t do well with stress. The constant pressure put on his shoulders, always feeling like if anything goes wrong, it’s all on him. It’s tough. And he needs some time to relax.

Making it to the front doors of the bakery, he walks through, immediately hit with the smell of fresh cookies and gingerbread. Bernard continues through to the main area, dodging elves holding steaming trays. He arrives by the ovens where he finally sees you. Messy hair, flour down your apron, and what appears to be sprinkles stuck to the sleeves of your shirt. Raw dough scatters the once clean tabletop and Bernard rolls his eyes at it. Mess was never good.

You turn around and spot the head elf, smiling wide. “Oh hey Bernard! Wasn’t expecting to see you this early.”

“Y/N,” he replies in a less than cheerful tone. “Working hard I see?”

“Well I was decorating some of the gingerbread houses and realised there was some icing left over from the cookies, so I had an idea,” the young elf’s eyes light up. “Rather than wasting time and making more red icing, I’ll just use the remaining green icing I already have for the gingerbread houses and have it all matching!” You breath out and spread your arms, happy with your work. Bernard, less so happy.

His eye begins to twitch and his teeth clench. He didn’t want to lose his temper, but the day had already set him on that track. “You can’t do that. You have to follow the recipe exactly as it’s written. You can’t change it without consulting the others otherwise the other bakers won’t make it like you have.”

You blink, taken back by his blunt response. “Sorry, I didn’t realise it would be a big deal. It’s changing one colour and better yet, saving ingredients. Which I thought you’d be all for.”

Bernard knows you’re right, but he can’t seem to drop the sudden grudge he’s holding against you. He grabs for the icing. “No, there’s not enough time to change things so just stick to what you’re supposed to do.”

Sadly, you were equally as stubborn. Furrowing your brow, you snatch the icing away. “Who put coal in your stocking?” You jest, but the metaphorical question still stands. You’d been in a pretty good mood until Bernard showed up, seemingly ready to put up a fight with anyone who got in his way.

He reaches for the icing once more, but you pull back. This continues on, both of you acting like a young child unwilling to share their new toy. The other elves in the room have stopped to watch the display you’re both apart of.

“Y/N this isn’t funny either give me the icing or I’ll have to ask you to leave the bakery for today.” “Make me.”

You both glare at each other. Bernard pulls one last time on the bag and you squeeze, the icing pouring out fast and covering both of you in the sugary treat. The elves gasp. You both stand there in shock.

“Bernard I’m so sorry I didn’t meant to-” you’re unable to finish the sentence before the head elf turns and walks away, leaving through the back doors, slamming them in the process. You stand alone, feeling defeated and childish. You didn’t meant to go off on him. It all just seemed to blow out of proportion. Grabbing a kitchen towel and trying to wipe off the icing, you dash after Bernard.

———

You find Bernard in his office, using a worn rag to rid himself of the mess caused, muttering over and over again. You knock on the door and he looks up. His face turns blank. He huffs out and nods, you taking that as your sign to enter. The place is filled with tension, unsure who should break the silence first. You take the leap.

“You ran out of there quick. Didn’t give me any time to apologise.”

“It’s fine, just needed to clean myself up.” Bernard scrubs his top vigorously, the icing unwilling to leave. You make your way further into the room, arriving in front of him with your towel. “Here, you’re just making it worse.”

Bernard admits defeat and allows you to swab at the remaining sugar. He avoids eye contact, looking anywhere but you. Whether it was because of the scene you both caused, or the current close proximity, you didn’t know.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Bernard whispers, still looking off into the distance, “your idea was really smart, helpful. It’s just been a rough few days.”

“It seems to me that you only ever have rough days,” you stop what you’re doing and look up at him, “you can talk about it you know. Never bottle these things up.”

There’s a silence for a while, the only sound heard from the towel rubbing the icing off a shirt which definitely needed a proper wash.

“I sometimes wonder if I’m good enough to be head elf.”

His response shocks you. Sure the last few months seemed to have Bernard on edge, but he’d always been able to handle it in the past. Hearing him question his abilities made you feel sick, wondering how long he’d felt this way.

“Bernard, you are an incredible head elf. We’d all be in shambles without you!” He shakes his head but you continue on. “Everyone looks up to you; you make sure deadlines are met and the elves are at ease. Santa wouldn’t be able to do this job without your help.”

You take his hands and he finally looks at you, a slight blush covering his already rosey cheeks. “Bernard, you don’t need to do this by yourself. You can’t put all this pressure on you when things fall slightly behind. And you certainly can’t quit as head elf. We all need you,” you take a deep breath, “I need you.”

Bernard’s eyes grow wide, as do yours, shocked by what you just said. Sudden thoughts rush through your head. You’d always known there was something there when it came to the head elf. You found him attractive, and blushed anytime he was near. But saying it out loud now felt strange. You felt vulnerable. You felt stupid. Coughing awkwardly you step back.

“That was out of line, I’m really sorry if that’s made things awkward I didn’t-” before you can muster up a lame excuse, Bernard steps forward, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss. It takes you a moment to understand what’s happening, but soon after you place your hands on the sides of his face and kiss back. He pulls you closer, the movement forcing you to stand in between his legs while he leans back against the desk. You hate how cliche it all feels, but sparks were truly flying. One of your hands moves up into Bernard’s hair, slightly pulling at the curls, eliciting a moan from his mouth. He turns you both around, now with your back against the desk, as he lifts one of your legs to wrap around his waist. It was intense. It was surprising. It was definitely long over due. Who knew slightly switching up a recipe would result in this?

Bernard moves his kissing down your neck, biting hard and more than likely leaving a mark. You pull harder on his hair and tilt your head, giving him more access.

“God, you’re amazing,” he says in your ear with a slight husk. “I could stay in here with you forever.”

Sadly he doesn’t, as there’s a sudden knock on the door, throwing you back into reality. A small voice is heard from outside the room. “Bernard, you’re needed down in workshop.”

He pulls away from your hold, turning to the door and clearing his throat. “I’ll be right down, thank you.” There’s a slight wobble in his voice and you smirk, knowing it’s because of you’re previous activities. He looks back at you, reaching for your hand and smiling timidly. You smile back and shuffle your feet, a sense of awkwardness setting. Bernard doesn’t know what to say, but thankfully you beat him to it.

“It’s okay, we’re okay. We can talk about this later tonight,” you move closer, winding your arms around his neck and playing with the shorter hairs at the back of his head. “Go be the best head elf the North Poles ever seen.”

His smile widens, and he leans in for one last kiss. After a few moments, you both let go and he strides out the door with a spring in his step, feeling a lot better than he did earlier. You can still feel his lips on your neck and his hands on your waist. It was definitely a good way to start the morning.

#bernard the elf x reader #bernard x reader #x reader #the santa clause #david krumholtz #the santa clauses

[omnipotent-scient]

Alicent is a political mastermind whether you like her or not. Her keeping the peace after visits died is why Rhaenyra lived as long as she did

Lol, which part of her character screams political mastermind to you? The part where she was having petty grudges against a pre-teen? Or the part where she spread unnecessary rumours abt the said 12/13 year old? Or the part where she publicly hated the same child? Or the last where she wanted a 5 year old's eye to be put out? Or the part where her 19 and 15 year old sons remained unwed, instead of creating an allegiance?

She is smart and cunning and ambitious but not in the most political way.

Her marriage was the utmost political move on her part. Through this marriage, she became queen, one of the most powerful titles, had four princelings and three to follow after them.

I do think the Rhaenyra & Alicent mostly animosity mostly began after Otto was sent away(109)/Aemond was born(110), which would put Alicent(21/22) displaying public dislike towards Rhaenyra(12/13). Everyone and their mothers in the court knew abt their 'animosity' towards each other even before the tourney of 111 AC, blacks and greens were formed. Alicent was 23 and Rhaenyra was 14.

“Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?” Queen Alicent asked one day at court. Such a political movie on Alicent's part🤦‍♀️

Taking in Lord Commander of the Kingsgaurd Criston, was a power gaining move on her past however. But then again, a man she alleged of being a pedo when she had a silver haired daughter herself. So, again, who knows.

Aegon and Helaena marriage was arranged by Viserys, so it would calm down Aegon a bit (from whoring and drinking). She as a mother did not stop Aegon from whoring or excessive drinking, even though she wanted him to be king. She did not prepare him to rule or have someone do it, just let him sire bastards and destroy his reputation. Just because he was a son, he was the better choice, even with nothing to back it.

Queen Alicent demanded that one of Lucerys Velaryon’s eyes should be put out, for the eye he had cost Aemond. Luke was FIVE when this happened, Alicent was a grown 32 year old woman, a mother to 4 children. Though this can easily be passed as her mother's grief talking. So moving on.

Aemond(19) and Daeron(15) remained unwed. Marriage is the best way of allegiance (ex. Rhaenyra and Velaryons). Aemond could've been easily married by then, maybe to Cassandra Baratheon, where he could've been her consort (ex. Daemon and Rhea). Daeron could've been married too, but even a Betrothal would've been fine, maybe to some Tyrell. Yet it didn't happen.

By (visits=Viserys?) 'Rhaenyra living as long as she did', I think you mean the peace treaty? Even an idiot knows you offer a peace treaty at the beginning of a war, so you can be seen as peaceful and better than the other. It wasn't even just her either, Otto and Helaena both pushed for it. The offer was also a hostageship for Rhaenyra and her whole family.

Also Rhaenyra is the one who kept Alicent alive not the other way around. “for the sake of our father, who loved you once.”

#canon rhaenyra targaryen #canon asoiaf #canon alicent hightower #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #Rhaenyra vs Aegon #canon aegon ii #aegon ii

[nataliewritez]

Upper 1 & 2's Secret || KNY Tk Fic

A/N: THE THREE LOVELIEST BOY'S!! Thanks to @helloitsghost for ranting with me about these three (especially with 1 and 2 lol) otherwise, enjoy!! (P.S: If it's crappy, just know I barely had any sleep and I'm trying to get that fixed)

Summary: Upper 1 and 2's relationship has been found out by Upper 3.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"Gah!?" Kokushibo heaved in sharply as Douma traces a teasing nail down the side of his back. "Relax, Koku-san~! It's only getting started~!" Douma has a shit eating grin that splays from ear to ear, as his growing more mischievous by the second. You wouldn't expect the Upper Moon, Kokushibo, to be ticklish. But what you'd never ever expect was for him to be sitting face to face with Douma with his head rested on his shoulder, his shoulder's hunching up as the other teases him relentlessly.

Douma has to bite back a laugh everytime the frightening demon shrieks against his neck, almost biting his tongue off a few time's at he does so. His long nails trace down in a straight line atop Kokushibo's spine, making him shiver and let out an airy scream.

"Ah-! Upper-"

"We talked about this - call me Douma!" Douma put out his bottom lip, resembling a pout, making Kokushibo giggle all the more from his silly antics. "Just relax and let me-"

"What the fuck?"

The two higher ranks stopped in pure surprise, when they bolted their heads towards the sound, they saw a really confused Akaza, staring down at them, probably ready to slice Douma's head off any second now.

"If you think you can harass the Upper Moon 1, then think again, dipshit." Akaza said in pure spite, leaving Douma and Kokushibo in place, confused. Before Douma could say anything, Kokushibo spoke up, so Akaza wouldn't go punch his lower jaw off. "I asked for this, it's a.." His cheeks heat up slightly, but his tone never wavers. "A relaxing gesture to I, do you have a problem with it, Akaza?" Kokushibo asked, seeming blunt as ever.

This got Akaza to calm down slightly, as he lowers his raised fist, but Kokishibo - and even Douma, didn't expect for him to smirk and proceed to crack his knuckles and even his neck. "Oh really? Our big bad Upper 1 is feeling stressed? Then let me help." He said. Oh right..

A months ago, Kokushibo had stopped Akaza from any furthermore contact towards Douma after their meeting, Akaza had held this grudge up to this point, so of course he'd want to get back at him in any way possible, even if it was just a small bit.

"Oh! Sure you can!" Douma seemed amused at this, now Kokushibo was in trouble, he didn't dare dash away from his inevitable demise, infact, he practically walked into Douma's arm's once again, simply allowing the newer member to come in and join with them.

"Oh Akaza-dono! I never expected you to play like a measly mortal child!" Dpuma taunts, making Akaza groan, but he lets out hus frustration by scribbling at Kokushibo's underarms, the sudden contact making him emit an airy cackle as he throws his arm's against his side's.

"Oh no! It looks like you may die a second time, Kokushibo-sama! Who knew that was possible!" Douma teases with a large smile, as his nails proceed to skitter against his lower back, the mixture off soft, playful tickles and rough, amused tickling from the two making it even worser, as he clams his eye's shut.

"Ahaha! A-Akaza! Slow dohown!" Kokushibo breathily giggles, Akaza must admit, his laugh was rather soothing, and actually nice to listen too, he could get used to this, but right now, he wants Kokushibo to suffer a bit. "Make me." Akaza snickers, smirking at the six-eyed man.

Each time Kokushibo attempted to bring his arm's away from his side's, Akaza would scribble a bit faster and dig a bit deeper, causing them to clamp back down again. "I cahahan't! Plehehease! A-Akazahahahaha!" Giggles the highest rank, a small snort leaving his lips, a snort Akaza and Douma could easily miss if they weren't paying attention to him. "Aww! Kokushibo-sama, you're so cute when you become a giggly heap! How about I help you raise your arm's, hm?" Douma asks with a sweet smile, his smile turning cynical as Kokushibo nods gently against his chest.

"Alrighty then, up we go!" He grabs his wrists, now pinning his wrists over his head, making Kokushibo gasp out of pure shock, even Akaza seemed a little flustered at the sudden trick. "Akaza-dono!~ Try his biceps!" Douma seems to suggest, and to Kokushibo's surprise, Akaza actually dies as his told, a small smile on his face as he skitters his blunt nails atop his arms, just near his shoulder's.

Kokushibo arches, almost throwing Akaza off guard, as he then places himself ontop his hip's. "Oh my, was that a bad spot I gave away? Whoopsies!" Douma feigns dissapointment at himself, now opting to using one hand to hold his wrists, squeezing at his side. Whenever Kokushibo jerked the opposite way, he'd go after that side, making him wiggle like a worm under their mercy.

"Is Kokushibo ticklish? Wow! How dare you keep a weakness from us!" Akaza now plays along, now gently scribbling at his forearms, making Kokushibo wiggle his arm's and shake his head, his entire body turning to mush. "Y-YOU TWOHO- AGH!?" He throws his head back, Douma now crawled the hand once at his side's and scribbled between his shoulder blades, making him hunch his shoulder's up.

"DOHOHOUMA! W-WAHAIT! DAHAHARLING!" Kokushibo laughs out, his feet hitting the ground, tears threatening to spill. His hair was even more messy then it usually was, falling on his face and sweat beading off of him. Akaza almost laughs at his state before his eye's widdened. Right... Douma and Koku never told him their secret. The two were in a relationship for a while now, but decided not to tell anyone about this, heck, not even Muzan knew! So when Kokushibo said that, and Douma stopped to kiss his cheek, making him purr out a satisfied sigh, Akaza was entirely shocked.

"You.. never told me." Akaza gets up, fists clenched, Douma smiling cheekily, "But Akaza-dono! You never asked!" He smiled, while this was true, Akaza didn't take his word and tackled the other to the ground, the two wrestling, but it seemed Douma purposely let him pin him down, "Oh Akaza-dono! You're so strong now! Surely you'll not tr-AIE!?" Douma shrieks.

Both Kokushibo, who now fully recovered, and Akaza stared in shock, both looking at the hand that squeezed at Douma's hip, Kokushibo ohing, despite Douma mouthing the words 'don't say anything' and shaking his head frantically, Kokishubo bluntly speaks, "I forgot he was ticklish himself." He says, Douma wishing he could facepalm now.

Akaza, however, was completely surprised, only for a second however before he decudes to scribble and squeeze profusely at the other's hip's, Douma ready to push him off, before Kokishibo helps, raking his fingers between his ribs, making the rainbow eye's demon fall to the ground quickly, already howling in laughter as they continue to mercilessly tickle him down.

"So, you never told me about your relationship.."

"PLEHEASE-!"

"Nor how ticklish Upper Moon 1 was.."

"AKAHAHA- AH!"

"And now.. I just found you were also ticklish!? What more will you hide!?" Akaza growls, though ut seems more playful then actual anger building inside him, his thumbs finding the divets of his hips and massaging there, his finger's curling at his hip bones, making Douma screech so loudly that the entire world could hear him.

"AKAHAHAZA! KOHOHOKU! PLEHEASE!" He playfully swats at their hands like flies, making both of them chuckle, as Akaza points out, "You never told us to stop~" He squeezes a few times, making him spasm.

They stop finally when he curls up on the ground, his whole body quivering there, as soft hiccups and giggles continue to spill out, his own hands rubbing at the once tickled area's.

Akaza laughs, "Now I know how to shut you up!" He smirks down at Douma, making him shriek as he pokes at his ribcage, Kokushibo now turning to him, making him gulp as his shadow towers over him. "Now, Akaza.." Kokushibo slowly raises his hands, blocking the exit, "I think it's your turn.."

#sfw tickle community #sfw tk blog #sfw tk community #tk community #tickle content #tickle fluff #tickle fic #tk fic #demon slayer tickling #demon slayer tickles #lee!kokushibo #ler!kokushibo #ticklish!kokushibo #lee!douma #ler!douma #ticklish!douma #ler!akaza #ticklish!akaza #natalie writez

[onestopfanficshop]

the rongloa family headcanons

(will be updated as i get more ideas!)

Satseypeäkx Te Rongloa Tsu'tey'itan

PRONUNCIATION: Sat-SAY-pey-ack

AGE: 16

HEIGHT: 8 ft 9 in (266.7 cm)

SIGN: Virgo

Goes by Satsey :) his full name is rarely used by you and Tsu’tey unless he’s in trouble lol

Spitting image of his dad

He was you and Tsu’tey’s first everything

Tsu’tey had gotten emotional with you before, but when Satsey was born, he openly cried in front of you

Looks just like his dad

Since he was an only child for nearly two years, you guys would never put him down. As a result, he was the fussiest baby in the world 😭 he refused to go to sleep without someone holding him

Avid fan of English curse words, which seems to have rubbed off on his younger twin sisters (much to your dismay)

Absolutely hates getting up early for any reason with a passion, just like his dad

Grew the fastest out of all of your kids; he was constantly having growth spurts and achy legs from growing so fast. He's almost as tall as his dad now and he's not even done growing!

Not afraid to get into a fight on behalf of his siblings, especially if someone is teasing one of them. Those are his babies and NO ONE is allowed to be mean to them (except him obviously)

Momma's boy through and through :,)

All of his younger siblings really do value his opinion, even though they pretend they don't lol

Ameyä Te Rongloa Tirea'asevin'ite

PRONUNCIATION: Ah-MAY-yah

AGE: 14

HEIGHT: 7 ft 5 in (226.06 cm)

SIGN: Pisces

Twins are exceptionally rare among the Na'vi, so to say your girls were special is an understatement

Her and her sister Atlìyä were the hardest birth of the four kids (I mean obviously, there was two of them), and Satsey literally will not let them live it down

In the picture dictionary, next to "daddy's girl", you will see Ameyä's picture 💀

Loves hunting, so naturally Dad is the person she gravitates to

Was actually one of the youngest people to complete her Iknimaya in the clan at twelve. Twelve! You were so proud of your girl :,)

You were initially extremely against it and were worried (justly so) that she was too young and could get hurt, but Tsu'tey reassured you that she was ready

You trusted his judgment, so you waited nervously for her to complete her trials, and when she did, proud was an understatement of how you and Tsu'tey felt. You two felt so lucky to have one of the strongest and bravest daughters in the whole clan

The more level-headed and rational twin

Affectionately called "Mey-Mey" by her siblings

Has the biggest sweet tooth; you’ll always find her snacking on some fruit

Was the baby that would pick up ANYTHING and put it straight in her mouth. Constantly was giving you and Tsu’tey mini heart attacks

Holds the worst grudges in the world. She'll (begrudgingly) forgive but you can bet your ass that she won't forget

Loves to spar with her older brother and her sister (or really anyone willing to) because she knows she'll win

Atlìyä Te Rongloa Tirea'asevin'ite

PRONUNCIATION: At-LEE-yah

AGE: 14

HEIGHT: 7 ft 5 in (226.06 cm)

SIGN: Pisces

Always has her head up in the clouds

Is super close with Kiri and considers her to be a second sister. It’s not uncommon to find them chatting away somewhere in the forest

However, Ameyä is absolutely her best friend; they're practically inseparable even now that they've grown up

Her and Ameyä are the perfect mix of you and Tsu’tey in terms of looks

Rolls her eyes (a trait she picked up from you) anytime Ameyä mentions she's the oldest

"We are two minutes apart, Ameyä! That does not make you the boss of me!"

Constantly brags about having the prettiest ikran (which, truthfully, she does)

The carefree and therefore most accident-prone twin (Ameyä is constantly having to get her out of trouble lmao)

Is the best flier out of all the kids. Will go for a flight to clear her mind or just for fun and loves to do all sorts of flips and tricks (which ALSO gave you and Tsu'tey mini heart attacks)

Loves hearing the story of how you and Tsu'tey met and gets a kick out of how you two used to hate each other's guts at first

INSTIGATOR with a capital I 😭 it literally fills her with glee to insert herself into people's conversations and arguments

"Mom, didn't Dad tell you to go back to your planet when you guys were younger? I personally would not let that slide, but that's just me."

Loves to sit with Kiri and watch old Earth movies in the base at Hell's Gate, as well as watching your old video logs that you used to make, just like Grace and Uncle Jake.

They snicker anytime you would mention Tsu'tey in your logs because even though you'd seem annoyed by him, it was very clear to the girls from watching (not so much to you at the time) that you were starting to fall for him

Za’wey Te Rongloa Tsu'tey'itan

PRONUNCIATION: Za-WAY

AGE: 8

HEIGHT: 5 ft 9 in (175.26 cm)

SIGN: Sagittarius

Baby of the family, obviously

Lookswise, he bears the most resemblance to you; I'm talking carbon copy

Very much a daddy’s boy to the point of near offense on your behalf, especially when he was first born. He would cry and cry and cry until he was placed in Tsu'tey's arms, and then he would be as quiet as a mouse.

As he neared his first birthday, his favoritism for his dad mellowed down a bit and would actually grow to prefer having you hold him

But he will always confide in his Tsu'tey; if he ever has a question about something he had seen in the forest, his dad is the first person he'd run to ask

Is constantly getting piggyback rides from his siblings, especially Satsey

Avid nap taker

Loves to cling to Tsu'tey's leg whenever possible

Absolutely loves to go on fishing trips with his brother and dad; it makes him feel like a grown up

Just like Tuk, he is not afraid to blackmail his siblings in order to be invited on their adventures 😭

Ameyä babies him the most (he pretends that he hates it but it really does make him feel protected)

#tsu’tey te rongloa ateyitan x reader #tsu’tey imagine #tsu’tey x oc #tsu’tey headcanon

[desiredcaramellatte]

Hiii. Its me, the anon who requested tge dark choco x sister reader, I wanted to ask if you could make a Red Velvet Cookie x Older sibling reader, where both of them try to kill eachother but actually loves each other, like reader wants to keep red velvet safe and red velvet wants to impress his sibling. You can write this when you can, have a good rest

Hoohoo, more sibling requests 👀👀

These two requests were practically the same things so I kinda just combined them lol

Also I completely ignored how reader and Velvet are siblings yeah you can decide yourself if adoption or they're from the oven or something :) Aka me being lazy

Also, I’m feeling good! So glad I can be back writing!

Red Velvet & Older Sibling reader

Platonic

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He’s going to be showing you all of his puppies. It started out when you were both small- Red Velvet would manage to teach one of his dogs a trick and then he would show you with so much pride it was impossible not to smile. It just continued on from there with the smallest things. He once put a top hat on one of the puppers and showed you. It’s amazing just the pure velocity of things he comes up with.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ So many shenanigans. Especially involving his dogs. Almost everything he does he has a dog at his side. If you don’t like dogs, or have an allergy, then good luck trying to get near him hhh-.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Red Velvet is the type of sibling to have an entire ass argument with you, yelling and everything, and then come in ten minutes later and ask if you want to get Wendies. I won’t be convinced otherwise. They may not have a Wendies in Cookie Run, but I will die on this hill.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ You’re going to have to brush his hair every morning and afternoon. He asks you whenever he wakes up and before he goes to sleep, he loves it so much ajdbejbf. If you’d like him to, he will brush yours in return. It’s just 2 hours of hair-brushing every day if so.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He looks up to you a lot, and he’s going to mimic practically a lot of things you do. He was the 5 year old child who went through the phase of literally following their sibling around and doing the exact same thing as them, down to the words they say.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He aged out of it, but you’ll still find him taking up some of your hobbies every once in while, or trying things the way you do them, whenever he has the time to.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ A lot of banter between you to. With you being siblings and Red Velvet’s natural sharp tongue, it’s literally inevitable. It rarely ever goes into the two of you actually arguing or fighting, but from someone who doesn’t know you’s perspective it sounds like you two have personal grudges against each other, like you killed each other’s parents or something.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ You two prank Licorice Cookie a lot. Red Velvet enjoys it, and finds it one of the best past times when he isn’t working on his job. Licorice had red hair for a week after you and Red Velvet swapped out his shampoo bottle with red dye. Overall Licorice is on the brink of losing his mind from all the shit Red Velvet and you put him through.

#cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk #requests open #crk x reader #red velvet #red velvet x reader #platonic #siblings #reader is a little older #Velvet’s age switches constantly throughout these hcs dont ask #i cant tell you why

[throwaway-yandere]

Dear my Penpal,

Happy Irodori Festival!

This is the first time for me to write a letter to someone, so I'm quite intrigued to see who I'll get, haha. If you receive this, then that's great— it means that it's working and the postal office hadn't decided to leave my letter unsent.

Enough about that, I'm hoping you're having a great day so far. Please remember to take care of yourself, and to take breaks if you deem it necessary. Maybe in the future, you and I can meet up somewhere in Inazuma. I'm planning to head there for the festival, so I hope to see you during the festivities!

— Vermiculis Creatio

cw: body horror, yokais, yandere behavior, completely strange plot in general lol

a/n: iM SORRY HE'S MEAN I HAVE NO GRUDGE AGAINST YOU I THINK YOUR PEN NAME IS SUPER DOPE BUT HE IS JUST MEAN TTT___TTT

From this yandere genshin secret pen pal event

✥ YOU GOT A LETTER FROM YOUR SECRET PEN PAL!!!

"Hana ni arashi," the wanderer muttered with his hand slightly reaching for the sky, awaiting the inevitable raindrops.

His foretold half-jokes about rain materialized as he prophesied in the letter. Many had fled to find protection from the joy-ending rain, but he remained motionless beneath Ritou's tanabata tree. Earlier today, he was discreetly observing the festival's vendors and books as he wandered around with lordly nonchalance, making remarks about humanity's consistently obnoxious literature despite his irminsul shenanigans.

"So the protagonist still wanders as an object-apparition in the end?" Wanderer muttered as he clapped the book shut. "How dull."

Seems like no matter how much he tampered with the white tree, the dead will never come back to life.

He had little to examine now that all the stalls were protected by larger stores and private residences. The fact that the branches and his hat had failed to keep the drifter from getting wet didn't bother him. Instead, he observed the droplets smear the paper wishes that were hung on the tree.

'This year, I'm going to be a doctor.'

'Let's all solve world hunger!!! - Kav.'

'Here's to hoping I retire this year haha!'

'I'm going to graduate and live with my husband in Inazuma City.'

'I want to be loved.' 

'I WANT TO BE LOVED.'

The wanderer scoffed.

Such a simple yet difficult wish. 

"Loved in what way? Loved in reverence? Loved out of fear? Loved as a friend? Loved like how a mother would do so with her child?" He snatched the wish off the tree and squinted his eyes. 

"Loved as though you're someone's missing half?"

He scoffed and crumpled the soggy paper.

"Mortals. They can't be trusted to hold even an iota of freedom and independence. Always with the need to be shackled by shallow relations."

The wanderer may muse that out loud, but his entire being defied his proclamations.

What a hypocrite he is, spouting nonsense about relationships when he's here to rekindle something forgotten...

"H-Hey, you there! What on earth are you standing in the middle of the rain for? This is no time for sightseeing."

The wanderer flinched and his face lit up.

Wanderer was glad to hear that voice again.

He turned around, and he found you. You firmly held a red umbrella above your head as you stood beside him. Confused by his awfully timed contemplations, you gently grabbed his arm.

Huh... Why didn't he feel anything when you touched him?

"We need to get you under a roof, pronto," you implored. "That hat of yours isn't doing you any favors."

The wanderer made an effort not to look at the parasol. You didn't seem to be aware that the object you were holding contained some peculiar energy. He didn't say a word about how the eye in your red umbrella moved, hoping to amuse himself later once you worked it out.

He might use it to frighten you later. Irodori festivals feature a ton of yokai events, so it wouldn't harm to have you scream.

"Oh wow, really? I didn't notice," he snarled. "'Preciate your concern, but I don't care."

"Please?"

"Please, what?" He closed his eyes, restraining himself from making eye contact with your cursed parasol.

That yokai you're holding does feel special...

"Come with me?" You frowned. "The others are worried about you."

"Why do locals always love to prattle on such meaningless concerns."

"Haha," you sheepishly scratched your neck. "You know, you kind of remind me of my pen pal."

Finally. 

"If I remind you of a pen pal of yours, then you must have the mind of a worm."

"Hey—"

You stopped.

"... Oh... OH!!!"

He smirked.

"So it was y—"

"Believe what you want, worm."

"Oh, come on. The meaning behind that pen name was pretty neat, and I was—" 

"Not the brightest student in the Haravatat," the wanderer sighed. "At least you don't have an execrable lack of imagination, I'll acknowledge that much. If I handed that letter to Madam Faruzan, I imagine she would be distraught."

"You don't know that."

No, he does. But he also knows that Madam Faruzan praised the worm for their literacy on forgotten languages.

Vermiculus, meaning little larva or worm, and creatio, which doesn't take a genius to figure out it pertains to "creation."

"Do you even know who Madam Faruzan is?"

"Only whispers. As much as I want to write to her, I admit, I've never exchanged letters before you, so..."

So you don't know who she is after the revision?

Good. 

One less person to get in his way.

"A-Anyways, we ought to take shelter from the rain! Come on, already." 

With enough strength, you successfully sprint him out of the tanabata tree's shade. You were more focused on getting him out that the thought of checking for his pulse never occurred to you. 

You used to be sharper than that.

"Does a little rain make you upset? And here I thought worms like the rain for their moisture."

"S-Seriously?" You heaved, breathless. "Y-You're making jokes? And h-how are you not out of breath?"

Wanderer stayed quiet after that remark, emulating human breathing. 

You used to be acquainted with traveling, what happened to your stamina?

Wanderer's revision does not change the past entirely. It only erases this world's memory of him.

It does not make the dead come back to life.

"Stop."

"Hah?"

He seized the opportunity to check your pulse.

...

...

...

The wanderer tried not to look at y̶o̶u̶r̶ the parasol.

"(Y/n)."

"... Wait, how do you know my name?"

"I'm not talking to you," he gritted his teeth. "I'm talking to the kasa-obake."

He took the umbrella away from y̶o̶u̶r̶ the person's hand, his grip softening when he secured it.

"(Y/n)..."

The moving eye looked frightened.

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

"Have you heard about this story, Scara? In Inazuma, there was a woman who bought an umbrella from a shrine. One rainy day, she thought about using her umbrella, but then suddenly, she received a message informing her that her husband died in battle. She got sick and died in a few days to supposedly look for her lover in the afterlife. After that, people said the umbrella was cursed and the shrine maidens sealed it away."

"... Is that supposed to be an attempt at being scary?"

"Not really? I don't know. On nights like this, traveling with you can be deadly silent. I only wished to make it a bit more lively" you shrugged. "But you know, I think I get why I remembered that tale out of the blue."

"Sure, worm. Tell me about it when I'm not falling asleep."

"You don't need sleep, you're a puppet. Anyways, I think I shared that story 'cause I subconsciously realized I'm getting attached to you."

"What does that have to do with some umbrella yokai story?"

"I'm just saying that if you went through Dottore's plans and came out as a different person, I think I'd fall ill too."

"And die? And have your beloved worms claim your body?"

"Hmm, I suppose so, yes," you affirmed his disbelief casually. "Vermiculis Creatio. If I die, let them feast and claim my vessel as their own. My soul doesn't need my old body. Maybe you should make me a puppet like you, see what happens."

"Is that a promise?"

"If it'll make you less lonely and feel loved as a new Archon? Then yes,

it's a promise."

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

The wanderer grabbed the body's arm again.

"What are you doing? That hurt."

He dug his thumb deep within y̶o̶u̶r̶ the body's wrist.

Small insects.

Larva.

Worms.

The entire time, he was not speaking to (Y/n) (L/n).

He was speaking to their animated corpse.

Scaramouche grinned.

Perfect.

"W-Worms...?!"

"I'll be stealing this umbrella from you."

"Hold on- what?! Hold on, how did you tear through my skin like that, why are there worms inside my—"

"I'm not giving it back, so run away now."

"But—"

"This umbrella means a lot more to me than you. This umbrella has more life than you do." 

He pushed them aside.

"So why don't you bury yourself and claim their rotting body like the good little worm that you are?"

Scaramouche caressed the cursed parasol. His eyes were wide, unhinged, but there was no breathing heard amidst the strong rain. As the corpse ran afraid, he tenderly hugged the umbrella and whispered as though it had ears to listen to his madness.

He laughed manically, softly kissing its closed eye.

His true missing half is finally here, encircled by his arms.

"Don't worry, my (Y/n). I'll make you a worthy vessel that will never be defiled by worldly filth."

#ansy-writes #yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer #yandere wanderer x reader #tag: pen pal or yokai

[jessicas-pi]

paint bombs, pixie cuts, and elopements........

hehehehe

This is my Sabezra Medieval AU! (it's the sequel to Matchmaking, Mad Science, And Accidental Child Acquisition, which is a TCW/JFO/SWR Medieval AU.) PBPCAE has gone through SO many variations and plans and ideas and four or five times I've thought I might actually have the story 100% figured out until I stumbled over a plot hole and got stuck, but I finally went back to the beginning and thought it out, and i've actually got an ACTUAL plan now, so I'll ramble about it instead of sharing a snippet!

So, the backstory of it is this: Sabine is Viscountess Wren, heiress to Clan Wren. Ezra is an orphan who was found, rescued, and eventually adopted by Kanan (aka Prince Caleb Dume of Jedha) and Hera! Ezra and Sabine meet as children (she's 7, he's 5) in book 1 and get along like a house on fire. After the events of book one, they keep in touch--I haven't decided for certain, but Sabine might actually live in Jedha for a while.

Fast forward in time to the beginning of PBPCAE. Sabine is a young woman, just old enough to marry, and Ursa is discussing potential political matches with her. Now, up until this point, sabine had never ever considered marrying ezra, but then her mom goes and says "Sabine, I may as well be clear from the start. You will not be permitted to marry that Jedhan boy you're constantly running around with."

Sabine's response?

After some confusion, embarrassment, hilarity, and a trip to Jedha, Sabine manages to convince Ezra that This Is A Great Idea Actually. But there's a problem.

Jedha and Mandalore both have very complicated marriage customs and requirements. And Sabine knows her mother will use any objection she can. So Act 1 of the story is Sabine and Ezra doing a deep dive into Jedhan and Mandalorian law (with the assistance of Cal Kestis, Resident Nerd) and kind of go on a bunch of quests to make sure there can be no nitpicky legal objections whatsoever (i.e. they have to convince kanan to adopt ezra the mandalorian way as well as the jedhan way so that ezra would be considered actual royalty and therefore a good political match), while also keeping it a total secret so Ursa can't step in and stop them. The secrecy leads to some comedy due to Sabine and Ezra both being very bad at making up excuses as to where they've been sneaking off to.

Finally, they've settled every objection, and are preparing ye olde powerpointe presentatione on "Why You Should Approve Of This" for Ursa when a visiting Mandalorian with a bit of a grudge against Sabine sets her up, resulting in an Incident that nearly ruins Sabine's reputation, and causes Ursa to summon her daughter back home.

War breaks out in Mandalore.

Sabine and Ezra don't see each other for two years.

Enter Act 2.

The war ends, and Ezra and his family (which includes young Jacen!) are invited to Mandalore's Winter Court as part of the celebrations. (I haven't decided what plot reason there is for them to be there lol.) Ezra is ecstatic to see Sabine again, though he's a little nervous that two years will make things awkward, especially with their secret marriage plans between them (and the fact that, during their time apart, he came to terms with the realization that he had feelings for her. His friends Luke and Han, who know about the secret, have been giving him (extremely bad) advice on How To Woo Your Future Wife.)

'Tis not to be.

The first news Ezra gets upon arrival is that Sabine is engaged.

To be specific, Sabine is engaged to Carthage, the philandering slimeball son of Gar Saxon---and the same guy who set her up and nearly ruined her two years before. She's not happy about it, but it was part of the conditions of the peace treaty, and so she can't call off the engagement without a mutual agreement.

(Ezra is, understandably, heartbroken. He can't even be happy for Sabine because her fiance is a lousy person!)

Then yet another Incident happens and suddenly the whole Winter Court is convinced that Sabine is carrying on with Ezra behind Carthage's back. Carthage is mad.

Wait a second, Sabine thinks. This could be my ticket out of here.

So, in an attempt to make Carthage upset enough that he willingly agrees to cancel the engagement, Sabine and Ezra play themselves up as a starcrossed romance between a noblewoman in an arranged marriage and the peasant boy who became a prince and who also happens to be her childhood friend---basically they use all the dramatic tropes they can. Half of the Winter Court is scandalized by their behavior, and the other half is like it's the romance of the century!!!!

And when even that doesn't work?

Well...

There's always elopement.

#thank you for the ask!! #star wars medieval au #sabezra #jessica's writing nonsense #(there's also a whole act 3 about the elopement process and the shenanigans that happen along the way but that part has spoilers) #(and there's dramatic love confessions!) #(and also a surprising amount of political intrigue!)

[bylerjancytruther]

hi! sorry for ranting in ur inbox but you do say you're a jonathan byers stan soo....does it ever make you mad that the GA and the fandom reduces jonathan's character to taking the pictures in episode two??

never mind the fact that he's grown over four seasons since then and hasn't done a single shitty thing like that again. never mind that he's been the rock of the byers family for years and years after lonnie left and loves them so much that he would give up going to college to be there for them. never mind that he's been an incredible brother to will for will's whole life and canonically accepts him and loves him for who he is. never mind anything that makes jonathan great, the fandom just has to reduce him to one poor action.

and it's never the other characters either. as much as i love steve, he was a serious asshole in s1, but he grew and changed and the fandom loves him for it. they acknowledged steve's character development and celebrated him for it. but not jonathan - it's only jonathan that is forever held to his mistakes and is never allowed the space to grow :(

no, you’re perfectly fine! believe me, i’ll never pass up an opportunity to defend jonathan byers lol.

if i’m being completely honest, yeah. it’s one of the things that annoys me most about this fandom. jonathan made one mistake in season one that he apologized for and continued to learn from whereas steve made mistakes as well and never apologized yet according to the GA, he’s redeemable but jonathan isn’t?

listen, i will be the first person to admit that what jonathan did in season one was creepy but like i said, he apologized and nancy forgave him. beyond that, it’s not really our decision to hold that grudge against him. you’re allowed to not like a character but if this one action is the one thing that you continue to hold over his head, then you’re a lost cause.

i’ll never hide the fact that i’m not the biggest fan of steve but some steve stans get on my nerves when it comes to jonathan. a lot of these people go around unironically saying “mommy steve 🥺” all the time or cracking jokes about how steve got his “6 little nuggets” yet they refuse to acknowledge the very real fact that jonathan raised will. jonathan is and always will be more of a father figure to will than lonnie ever has been. jonathan was the boy who while in high school, got up in the morning to make sure his little brother got breakfast. worked extra long shifts to help his mom pay the bills. checked the trunk of his fathers car for his brother. he was left to plan wills funeral on his own at the age of 16. it seems that because jonathan isn’t conventionally attractive or friends with a random child or an asshole, everybody overlooks everything he had to go through before the show even started. it’s not fair that every other character is allowed room to grow and embrace their character development but he isn’t…

i’d also like to add on that jonathan is an 18 year boy who had to deal with all of the previous stuff i mentioned on top of supernatural activities in his hometown and a long distance relationship. let the kid smoke weed and deal with his trauma his own way. thank you.

anyways, i’m sorry for ranting the way that i did. i just love jonathan sm.

#stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #jonathan byers #jancy #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #jargyle #stonathon

[juniperhillpatient]

How’s it going @juniperhillpatient ?

I just read chapter VII of “The devil You Know”. The chapter was a roller coster and the story is really heating up. Poor Yue…

Was it truly a mere accident that Sokka’s coffin laid on top of Yue’s and Fy Lee”. He is very suspiciously close to many deaths. Toph was killed soon after she found out he and Suki were implicated in (I think it was Chan’s?) death. Speaking of Suki, it’s quite interesting when she protested how her phone wasn’t working, only for Azula to notice that it suddenly began to work again when it came time for Yue’s video to appear. Yue of course being an idvidyal that Suki has a grudge against. Via Sokka. Speaking of Yue, her POV this chapter was a gut punch. As was Katara’s in the beginning.

Also Jets’s POV drew several points about Ty Lee from his perspective. That she was smarter than she initially appeared. And that she six identical sisters. In appearance and voice.

What if Ty Lee hadn’t died at all. What if merely faked her death (by sacrificing one of her sisters) and engineered the call to Azula. Blaming Zuko for something he hadn’t actually done. From Jet’s PoV we know that Ty Lee’s parents wouldn’t actually notice if one of their daughters disappeared. Which may make it easy for Ty Lee to fake her death and switch with one of her sisters. If indeed she is one of the killers. I could just be reading into something that is’t there after all.

One of the killers expressed heartbreak over Azula. And we know that something happened between her and Ty Lee. Maybe enough to push Ty Lee into being a killer? Their’s also Mai, who may have been acting the fool this whole time. Her anger at Azula is readily apparent. My distrust of the two stems from canon. Though their actions are understandable I’ve got a thing about people betraying their friends. So their deeds at the Boiling Rock still leave a bad tastes in my mouth. Minus saving Zuko/Sokka/Suki’s lives of course.

So I like Suki and Sokka for Ghostface. With Mai coming in as a secondary suspicion. And If my theory about Ty Lee faking her death is right, she immediately jumps to #I suspect

In the end scene, where Katara is perving on Azula. Is Azula blacking out like in the first chapter? In which Zuko is taking of Azula in that moment?

And a message for Azula. “Tell your girlfriend important shit! Your brother being accused (supposedly at least) in being a killer definitely qualifies. Also don’t cheat on her”. That’s a bit fucked up. Unless you blacked out for it. Which makes Zuko’s action monumentally more fucked up. But then, every character in this story is a bit screwed in the head. But then, that’s one (though by no means the only) of the reasons we love all the ATLA main crew (Gaang+Dangerous ladies+Yue).

Also, I’m pretty sure Kiyi is Hakoda’s and Ursa’s bastard child. Does Sokka suspect which married women that Hakoda slept with (Ursa?). He’s been a big brother figure to her thus far, so maybe. Out of all the characters, I’m hoping Kiyi lives. Even more so than Azula or Katara (I know, It me saying that!). Also hopeful she doesn’t end up as one of the killers…

I enjoyed the chapter, and am greatly looking forward to next! I want to see this mystery unraveled!

Bestie I wish you could like.....watch my face journey as I read through your speculations because I had a BALL reading this!

I seriously LOVE all the theorizing & I feel like I'm interacting less than usual with readers when it comes to this story because I'm always just like -

"love the theories :))))" but also I literally CANNOT respond with anything to theories without giving away if you're close or way off LMAO

But just know. I feel so validated in putting as much thought as I do into this story (trust me it's a lot lol) & I just get SO excited about seeing the different possibilities when I get messages such as this. Just - AHH !! :)

As for Kiyi - I can go ahead & confirm that she is indeed Ursa & Hakoda's child. I don't consider this a spoiler given it is pretty much confirmed in the latest update. More on how much Sokka knows about this very soon!

Anyway - THANK YOU. Whenever I see notifications from you I get so happy because you are so thoughtful & insightful & so supportive <3

#scream au #asks #mutuals #<33333

[amaya-writes]

Death Note spoilers!

For the event, can I request reborn!L Lawliet? He died in 2007, so he would be 15 today, so I just wanted some fluff with teen!reader (platonic or romantic, whatever) maybe being friends from school and liking true crime, chatting, just doing normal teen stuff without a care in the world :') thank you so much

Event Masterlist About The Event

Notes: I was going to make this romantic but ran out of ideas lol

Warnings: n/a

Characters involved: L Lawliet, mentions Watari

Gender-neutral reader, you/yours

You had been friends with L ever since you saw him win a middle school dodgeball match by using physics.

You thought he was one of the coolest people you knew. He thought you were annoying.

L Lawliet wasn't exactly the type of teenager people would talk about. His real name was Ryuzaki but for some reason unknown to most he had decided to be referred to as L sometime during elementary school, a decision everyone seemed to automatically accept.

He was quiet and went about his days at school perched on his seat at the back of the class with his owlish eyes observing everyone around him.

Everyone thought he was weird. Even the teachers.

The only reason they never said anything was because of how awfully smart he was.

You prided yourself on being one of the top students in your class. But that was before L came along.

You might have been smart, but he was on another level.

Perhaps that was why you had originally been so vexed by him. Him and his stupid sliver tongue and quick reflexes that ensured even if he was regarded as an outcast, no one could ever ridicule him for it.

Especially not when he came from such a rich family.

You heard rumours about how he had a butler who would follow him around wherever he went. And how that butler was responsible for the chemistry teacher's sudden disappearance a week after she dared to mark L's answer wrong.

The second part was obviously a lie. But you found that it was enough to intrigue you even more.

In the end, it was your love for true crime that brought the two of you together.

There was a famous detective known for his books about the serial killers cases he had handled in your country who had a book signing in your city, and you just had to go.

As luck would have you found a familiar raven-haired boy standing outside the bookstore just as you arrived.

At first, you thought he would avoid you. But that was before he dropped by your table after the book signing to cheekily impose on your reading.

"He was never imprisoned."

"What?"

L took your question as an invitation to occupy the vacant seat across from you.

"The killer. He was a politician who got away with it just because his party refused to believe he could ever do such a thing."

The two of you were quick to share your sentiments about how awful that was, and before you knew it, a simple talk about a book both of you adored turned into reading recommendations and swapping social media.

Apparently, L had only downloaded Tiktok and Instagram to watch videos about the cases he liked to keep up with but actively spent time tweeting about all sorts of things.

You thought the two of you would be restricted to discussions outside of school after that but were pleasantly mistaken the next day when you found L excitedly leaning against your locker ready to talk about how your favourite author had announced they were going to do a podcast.

The two of you became quick friends after that.

It started with both of you reading together and listening to true crime but quickly turned into L tugging you along to a million bakeries and forcing you to play chess with him in exchange for long walks through the park and shopping sprees.

You learned the reason he wanted to be called L was that his late mother had named him Ryuzaki, and he seemed to hold a grudge against everything related to her. He learned about your struggles with perfectionism and need to be the trophy child of your family.

You loved fashion almost as much as he didn't, and he held an interest in all the sports you had never once bothered to learn.

The two of you were different yet somehow still so awfully alike.

It helped that you both lacked any artistic abilities whatsoever. Whether it be dancing, singing, or art.

That was where your other friend came in.

Unlike L who didn't have any friends before you, you had secured a tight-knit but fun group of friends you cared for deeply. One of them was a digital artist who had even gone viral on Tiktok, the other an aspiring doctor who was secretly a theatre kid.

You were acquainted with a few others too, but L preferred to stick around you or the other two.

Everyone else seemed to be glad that you were helping L come out of his shell.

The two of you quickly turned from the peculiar pair everyone would gossip about to normal best friends, and over time people began to stare more when you weren't accompanied by one another.

You cared for each other deeply and would often spend hours on end holed up in L's ridiculously large bedroom as you did everything from reading to studying to watching bad comedy horror movies.

One school year turned into another, and you soon began to think of L as someone you would be friends with forever.

#l lawliet x reader #l lawliet x y/n #l x y/n #l death note #l x you #l x reader #l x reader fluff #l drabbles #l headcanons #l hcs #ryuzaki x reader #ryuzaki death note #l lawliet headcanons #l lawliet x you #l lawliet imagine #l Lawliet hcs #death note x you #death note x reader #death note x y/n #death note headcanons