#and then it gets worse and worse the longer im awake for

[semiotomatics]

genuinely i think ive spent less than 10 of the past 72 hours awake

[saminthea]

Is it appendicitis or just fibromyalgia and a stomach bug? Guess we'll see in the morning!

[was-it-my-fault]

i have enough sedating meds in me that could put a grown cow to sleep but I still can't sleep

[sleepyjim2]

yap sesh in the tags ! <3 nothing new im just frustrated abt my disordered sleep schedule as always . woke up at 5 pm and i will probably be failing my All Dayer and going to sleep shortly At 8 am and then sleeping for 1 billion years

[29121996]

.

[phagodyke]

spoke too soon abt my fucking period 😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐

[aka-tua-braindump]

This sinus infection going from dull pain everytime I blink to someone trying to stab me with an icepick for existing levels of pain is totally uncool bruh.

[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: 17.2k

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 a little less than a year ago, 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. Louis 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 last year.”

“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 stay out of his business.”

“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. You know he already knows it, but it still seems to have some effect on him. “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 chest 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 a year ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail nine months ago after a six year stint.” 

“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 was dead, 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 your way 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.

[aliaology]

THIS IS ME TRYING

summary: after having a hard time adjusting to the new environment in vancouver, reader finds herself standing at her younger brothers door, trying not to break down

pairings: hughes brothers x older sister!hughes!reader

warnings: breakdowns, anxiety attack

the feeling of your chest caving in was not a good one. vancouver was okay to you. it could’ve been better. it could’ve been worse. you were never the best with change. this was one of the biggest changes of your life.

your fingers gripped at the fabric layering over your chest. it hurt to breathe in. it hurt to breathe out. it hurt in general. you could feel the tips of your nails dig into your skin from above the fabric as your chest ached.

tears littered your face as your eyebrows were furrowed in pain. your breathing was heavy. your eyes were squeezed shut. you hated living on your own.

you hated it with every being in your body. if you were back in new jersey, jack would be in your room, holding you ask you cried. you’d be apologizing to him. he’d be telling you it’s okay, that you helped him his entire life, that it was his turn.

but you were in another country now, across the continent. you were no longer near jack. you were alone in your empty apartment.

maybe thats why you were now standing outside of quinn’s apartment. you shakily rose your hand and knocked on the door. it wasn’t too late, he’d be awake, you hoped.

the door knob made a few clicks before it was turned and the door was opening. quinn did not expect to see his older sister standing at his door with tears in her eyes, her entire body shaking, and her lip trembling.

quinn didn’t hesitate to pull you inside of his apartment and hold you close to him. his hand holding the back of your head, gently caressing your hair as he kicked his door shut.

“shh— shh, whats wrong? what is it?” he asked softly, holding you close to him.

you breathed heavily against him as you let out choked sobs. “i— i cant breathe, everything feels like its closing in on me. i feel like— like an open wound. i feel like everything is going wrong, i feel like such a failure, quinny.” you sobbed.

quinn’s chin rested on top of your head as he rocked you back and forth. “its okay, sissy, its okay.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your head.

“im trying so hard quinny. i really want you to know that im trying.” you cried.

“i know, sissy. i know you are, and you are doing your best. you’re doing so good.” he muttered.

you cried softly onto his shoulder.

his hand kept petting your hair as you both lowered to the floor, not even making it to the couch. you wanted to shrivel up. you wanted to sink. you wanted to stop trying.

the soft sounds of whispers coming from quinns lips ultimately quieted you down, the crying coming to a stop. your body went heavy in his arms, signaling you fell asleep.

quinn let out a grunt as he stood up with you in his arms. heavy footsteps prodded down the hallway towards his room as he brought you to his bed. gently, he lied you down and pulled the covers over you.

with a concerned look, he walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. he then pulled out his phone.

“she showed up at your door step?” jack asked through the phone. quinn hummed, the ‘mhm’ escaping through his lips.

jacks free hand ran down his face to his mouth. “its never been this bad before.” he explained.

quinn sighed, “how often did it happen?”

quinn sat on the arm of his couch. phone held in the air with one hand as his other held onto the couch. the apartment was dark, just the moonlight peeking through the window and one little light from the kitchen was all to be seen.

“every once in awhile, but only when she would get super stressed out from work or even if me or lukey got hurt. she kinda freaked when i went on injury reserve for slamming into the boards. i think her mind was overplaying it and making her think of worst case scenario.” jack explained.

quinn groaned, “yeah well she was sat in my arms, sobbing about how shes trying, jack. so i do not think her reaction to you getting hurt and this, are the same.”

jack rubbed his eyes. he brought the phone closer to him. “she’s probably scared, quinn.”

“i get it, shes our older sister and shes taken care of us our entire lives. now we are independent and shes in a whole new city. yes you may be there, but shes living by herself. shes in an entirely new environment and she probably thinks she only has herself because she doesn’t want to bug you. we need to remember that shes not the best with change. you saw her the day we brought everything here for her. she was sobbing, telling how she wished she didn’t grow up.”

jack sighed. “she just needs comfort.”

quinn stayed silent, taking in jacks words. jack was most likely right, but it made quinn feel like shit. jack and luke had known you like the back of their hands while quinn was off doing god knows what in vancouver.

quinn wishes he was there for everything.

“you know, sometimes i find it hard to believe shes older than me.” quinn jokes, to make the situation lighter.

jack laughed.

the call went silent on both sides.

“quinn.” jack spoke.

“yeah?”

“dont feel bad. she came to you, she needs you.”

“i know.”

“love you”

“love you too.”

i love making the boys act like older brothers bc like reader was always there for them but she never had anyone there for her yknow?? i just love!

tags (perm!): l @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @outrunangelss s , @um-mads , @bqbylon , @whoreforthehughesbrothers , @p3nislawd , @queenmendes , @absolutelyhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot , @sleepybesson

[bingoboingobongo]

If the asks are still open may I make a request. I read your cuddling headcanons for task force 141 and it got me thinking. How would they react to being cradled to their fem s/o's chest. With their fingers running through their hair, listening to their heartbeat? These boys deserve to go to sleep in comfort. Let them go into such a deep sleep they almost go into the light. If you don't feel like doing the whole squad can I just have Ghost?

task force 141 + being cradled

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: help i've been watching neymar jr/jude bellingham edits for so long my fyp thinks im a real soccer fan

simon "ghost" riley:

alright so simon's definitely more used to being the cradler rather than the cradled

he likes holding your head to his chest and feeling you bury your face deeper into his shirt

but honestly he's never been held by someone else

i mean just on size alone the schematics are kinda awkward

which is why he's sort of caught of guard the first time you pull him to your chest

the two of you were sitting in bed and he was telling you about his day

and you could tell that even though his voice was neutral he was absolutely exhausted (plus all the stuff he had to say just sounded so tiring)

so without saying anything (and a bit of struggle ngl this man is huge and therefore heavy) you manage to pull his head into your chest

he kinda stiffens and tries to get away but you hold him firm against your chest because you know that if he really wanted to leave he easily could

but when he sees how determined you are to keep him there it sorta flicks a switch in his mind that maybe this isn't the worse thing in the world

like obviously you wanted this and he's spent enough time with you to trust you

and besides you're so warm and even though you're not as big as him he can't help but feel secure in your arms so he starts to relax

and you tell him to pick up his head so you can take off his balaclava and he happily obliges

and he takes this opportunity to readjust into a more popular position so that he's more shifted on his side with one of his arms wrapped around your torso

and now he can feel the tiredness start to creep around his eyelids but he doesn't want to fall asleep because he wants to be able to savor this moment

but when you bring your fingers to his hair?

oh. my. lord.

simon melts IMMEDIATELY

he's kinda embarrassed about it but his eyes literally rolled into the back of his head

and after that point it is literally so hard for him to not fall asleep

like he is fighting demons just so he can stay awake and listen to your heartbeat longer

but with the way you're fingers are working magic on his scalp it's not long until his eyes are closing

he honestly doesn't even realize he fell asleep until he wakes up the next morning

and is he stiff as hell?

yes.

but was it worth it?

yes.

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so soap's definitely more chill about it than ghost

like he was the one to put his head on your chest not the other way around

he just likes how soft and warm you are and it makes him feel cozy

but he can't do it all the time because sometimes it gets to hot or he gets worried his head is too heavy

it's like being the little spoon

it's nice but sometimes you just wanna sprawl your entire body over someone else's

so he honestly doesn't let you cradle him very often

plus it's just like an awkward position for him

he doesn't wanna have to crane his neck up to see you and he has to do that when you have his head in your chest

that being said he will sacrifice seeing your face for a bit if it means having you scratch his head for him

although his favorite is when you're sitting on the couch because then he can lay his head on your lap

and then he has a good visual of your face and he gets to have you scratch his head

so it's a win win in his opinion

that being said having his head on his chest is one of his favorite positions to fall asleep in

especially when he's too tired to worry about if it's comfortable for you or not

something about your heartbeat is just soothing what can i say

kyle "gaz" garrick:

hmmm so tbh i don't think gaz is really into the head scratches

like it doesn't really work with his hair texture anyways and they feel funny to him

sorta like how some people love asmr but others can't stand it

and honestly i hate to say it but i don't really see gaz as being super into having you cradle his head and stuff

idk why i just can't see him doing that but maybe im just blind idk

like he might lean his head on your shoulder or even your head or something like that but idk he's just not a cradle kind of guy imo

he definitely loves cradling your head though

like he loves it when you're sitting in the car or on a couch and you lean your head on his shoulder and he can wrap his arm around you

definitely gives a top of the head kiss then too

maybe when he's sleeping he'll put his head on your chest

but again he'd much rather have your head on his chest

plus gaz has found that he has a very sensitive spine

(probably from falling out of like twenty helicopters let's be fr)

and so often when he falls asleep with his head on your chest he wakes up with a super stiff neck

off topic but one time he did fall asleep with his head on your chest and you moved it to his pillow once he fell asleep

and ik it sounds counterintuitive but that day gaz knew he was falling in love because the fact that you knew to do that made his heart soar

john price:

okay so price is obviously older and therefore more mature

and like the wise man he is he's never afraid to rest his head on the chest of a beautiful woman

that's honestly one of his favorite ways to spend his off days

the two of you laying on a couch watching a movie

he let you pick bc you both knew he would pass out by the thirty minute mark

i mean how could he not?

especially when he's laying on your chest and you're fiddling with his hair

twisting it and braiding it and combing through it

also you know he let's out the most guttural groan as soon as your fingers touch his head

and at that point he's more than happy to close his eyes, lay back, and relax as he listens to your heartbeat over the sound of the movie

sometimes you'll say something and he'll grunt in reply

but you both know that he has no idea what you said because he's in that perfect limbo of barely being awake and barely falling asleep

i mean he literally fantasizes about spending his days like that

alejandro vargas:

hm alright so alejandro would definitely rather have you on his chest than lay his head on yours

but also in the end his root motivation for everything is just making you happy so if you ask him to lay his head on your chest he will obey any day

i mean guys...

he is whipped for you let's be real

you say jump he says how high

he'll also never admit it or explicitly ask for it but he does love it when you play with his hair

especially when you curl it around your finger and tug on it a little

sometimes though if he's had a long day he'll come home and just lay his head down on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat

usually he'll get up after a while so he can talk to you without his words being muffled by your chest

sometimes though he's too tired and he'll just straight pass out

still in his gear and everything

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

hehehehe rudy my favorite

all right guys im sure you already saw it coming but rudy definitely LOVES resting his head on your chest

like it is his preferred position for everything

he will outright ask you to lay down so he could go rest his head on your chest

and yes he will ask you to play with his hair too

and he will sing your praises when you do

this definitely started way early in the relationship so you've had lots of time to get used to it

and it's not like you can complain because even if it does get uncomfortable at times rudy is always sure to let you know how much he appreciates it

i mean it just lets him actually sleep well for once

like as soon as his head is on your chest he is passed out

snoring quietly and drooling ever so slightly

and you know when he wakes up he's gonna have those red indent marks on his skin lol

but all jokes aside it really is his favorite thing like if he could he would record the sound of your heartbeat and play it back during missions

and also when he's on duty and has to sleep alone he definitely props up some pillows and tries to pretend it's you

it's not as good as you though

[semiotomatics]

yeah okay lets talk abt this (sorry it got long i needed to vent lol)

okay so. the basics: started getting pretty severe back pain in 2013 when i started having to stand for 8 hours at a time at my job. ended up getting a workers comp claim filed and going to physio, where they taught me some exercises to strengthen my core/other muscles + got those like, deep tissue/pressure point massages w heat or w/e. but the workers comp only lasted like a couple months or smth so i stopped going after that

fast forward to summer 2015 n im at a local street festival n a chiropractor is offering free x-rays + consult for ppl experiencing back pain. well! i absolutely was still experiencing back pain! so i got said free x-rays n at the consult learned that i had 1) scoliosis 2) a tilted pelvis and 3) an extra lumbar vertebrae. he (ofc) recommended i start getting treated by him but a) my medical at the time didnt cover chiropractors and b) iiiii didnt really have the best opinion of chiropractic uhhh anything xD so i declined

over the next seven years my back pain got worse and worse, and i developed pain basically throughout my entire body, with the worst of it centring around my lower back/knees/ankles/feet. in late 2020 i finally got fitted for custom orthotics during which the...guy-who-gets-you-fitted-for-orthotics noted i had "some of the flattest feet he had ever seen" (possibly also some of the most flexible ankles he had ever seen as well, i cant remember lol). i already knew i had flat feet (obvs) n suspected my ankles were fucked up but it was v validating to hear him confirm that both of these things would increase my chances of experiencing back/knee/ankle/foot pain. unfortunately, i got those orthotics shortly after getting laid off from work n ended up not working again till almost a year later so i wasn't really able to like, test them out for a while, and by the time i did and found out they didnt really help, my free adjustment period had ended :(

alongside the chronic back/joint pain i also started experiencing sciatic nerve pain as well as routinely "throwing out" my back (idk if i pinch a nerve or tear a muscle or what but im basically bedbound for like. a week or more and if i move or use that muscle at all its the most excruciating pain ive ever experienced in my life). in late summer 2022 i "threw out my back" while volunteering n ended up walking on it for like. a couple hours afterwards which uhhhhhhhhh fucked me up severely. the pain started radiating out from my back into my hips/legs, and my hips literally just straight up stopped moving/working right anymore. i was walking like, not with a limp but almost like with a weird sway to my hips? aaaaand my scoliosis reversed itself!!! where before my spine had curved to one side, all of a sudden it was curving the other way!! and the curve was much more noticeable just by looking at my silhouette in the mirror than it ever had been before!! which was not a thing i thought could happen!! so like, what the fuck!!

i ended up getting prescribed prescription-strength muscle relaxants as well as prescription-strength naproxen for that injury, which was a godsend, but i also was motivated, mostly by the whole scoliosis-reversal thing, to actually get my back checked out by someone to see wtf was going on. so i went to a local clinic (i have no pcp) and explained my situation to the dr, basically everything ive just described here.

and he said. and i quote "well, losing weight would help with that"

.

you guys.

when i tell you that i burst into tears

i burst into tears in that room and begged him, begged him to help me find out what was wrong. i told him the pain was preventing me from working, preventing me from running errands, preventing me from living. i told him i was feeling actively suicidal because of both the pain itself and how it was destroying my life.

finally, after listening to all that, he said, exasperated: "well what do you want me to do?"

and i said "please, can you just refer me to get an x-ray to see what's going on with my back"

so he did. and i went and got an x-ray a few days later. i asked the tech there if i could get a copy of them and she said to wait until they were sent to the doctors office and request copies from them, so i did. when they hadn't called me back in a couple weeks i called them asking if they had received them yet. they said no. i asked if they would call me when they did. they said yes.

they never did.

that was in december 2022. then 2023 happened and i just. i gave up yall. i gave up on ever getting a fucking answer for why i was in so much pain, let alone ever being able to fix it. even after my breakdown this summer which finally led to me starting on antidepressants and then therapy, i still didnt have a shred of faith that id ever be able to get any dr to give a shit abt the debilitating pain i had spent the last decade of my life experiencing

and then. finally. this week. i was just like. fuck it. whats the email of that clinic. and i found it, and i emailed them asking for copies of my x-rays, if they still had them. and they responded! the very next day! unfortunately they only gave me the...i assume radiologists? findings rather than the x-rays themselves (im gonna write back seeing if/how i can get those, cause i do still want them for my records). but still!! oh my god!! its been an entire calendar year but i finally got to find out what the results were!!

so the extra lumbar vertebrae i knew already. the rest i was kinda surprised to hear cause like? ive seen my 2015 x-rays and they clearly showed my scoliosis/tilted pelvis? so i assumed this would too? but who knows! it had been seven years! also the first set were done standing up, while these ones were done lying down, so idk how that might affect things. in any case, i decided to google this "presumed lumbarization of S1 vertebra", just to see what came up

yall.

yall.

so like!!! okay!!! when i was told the whole "having an extra lumbar vertebra was fine and wouldn't cause back pain" thing that was just straight up false i guess!! and when i went to the dr and told him i had low back pain + scoliosis + an extra lumbar vertebra he should've!! perhaps!! investigated further!!

i cannot explain to you how furious this makes me. whether this is the exclusive cause of my back pain, a contributing cause, hell, even if its a complete red herring. every source i read indicated that if a patient presents with chronic severe low back pain AND known structural abnormalities (like literally all of mine!!) that they should fucking consider that perhaps those two things are related!! they should AT FUCKING LEAST try to rule them out as causes!!!!!!! they definitely shouldnt tell their (not in any way overweight btw) patient to lose weight!!!!!! fuck!!!!!

anyway. in the new year i am going to try again to get a dr to take me seriously. and maybe they wont. maybe ill have to cry and beg again for them to give me the basic standard of care. but fuck!! im not going to give up until SOMEONE agrees to actually figure out what the fuck is wrong with me!! i don't want to be in pain anymore!!! i just fucking dont!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT

fucking. fuck.

i dont have the energy/mental bandwidth to properly explain rn but i just Learned Something abt my body that could explain a biiiiiig part of the issues ive been having

and the fact that im only learning it now, in december 2023 at the age of almost-30, has me. fuming

i legitimately want every single apathetic/lazy/misogynistic/fucking ableist healthcare professional to die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[peterparkersnose]

Rough Day

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 1k (short but sweet)

warnings: death (not prominent character death), child abandonment, descriptions of medical terminology, not angst but reader is comforted by joel, defined relationship with reader x joel

a/n i cannot wait for the last of us, im writing so much joel content to feed you babes in late december/early january (and after jan 15 when the show airs) title is not to be compared to the iconic din djarin fanfiction, it just fit too perfectly to pass up and make a possible reference (update 01/16/23 first episode was brilliant. only word i can use to describe that masterpiece)

summary Y/N comes home after a hard day of working at med bay and Joel comforts her

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 3 mins 23 seconds

The walk home seemed longer tonight. Maybe it was because of the sheer exhaustion from not sleeping in almost days, or maybe it was just from the horrible day you had.

The vision of the woman with the fresh bite on her leg plagued your mind.

Her sobbing baby next to her made matters even worse.

The tourniquet didn’t work. The infection spread too fast. The woman didn’t even know she was bitten for days. How could you not notice an open wound on your leg?

How could Tommy had let someone into the compound who was clearly not well?

You shook your head as you fumbled through your keys to get the right one. It was silent. The crickets were even gone, nothing else moved except the flickering light on your porch.

Joel had to fix that one of these days.

The old door creaked open. The only light left on was the lamp Joel would leave on for you when nights like this would occur.

What time was it now- after 11? He would most definitely be asleep.

You kicked your boots to their place and set down your bag. Angry with the state of your scrubs, you began peeling your coat off and leaving it on the floor.

The stairs creaked slightly as you made your way up them. You pulled at your socks that clung to your feet. The bedroom door was left slightly ajar, you could see the lamp light peering through the crack.

Pushing the door slightly open, you found Joel propped up in bed with a book.

“Your still awake?” you asked, immediately taking the top of your scrubs off.

“You know I can’t fall asleep without you,” he said, a harmless dig at your absence lately.

You genuinely felt bad for being gone. It wasn’t your intention to work a double at the hospital wing and then have 3 people come in with all very serious problems.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, opening your drawer and searching for a comfy shirt.

Joel raised his brows in concern. Your tone was off. “Everything alright?” he asked, folding the corner of his page and slowly placing the book next to him.

Ignoring the question that would most definitely bring tears to your eyes if you answered, you changed into some of Joel’s old flannel pants that were two sizes too big.

You turned to the mirror in your bathroom, staring blankly at your toothbrush.

“Y/N?” he asked, the bed creaking as he sat on the edge. “Please don’t,” you whispered from the bathroom, finding the courage to turn on the water to brush your teeth.

Looking up from spitting out your toothpaste, you found him standing adjacent of you with a worried look on his face. Your eyes looked tired and he knew you had an awful day. Joel knew there was definitely a story behind that face causing your mood.

The stress of the day always seemed to fizzle out when you were around him.

“Come here,” he says, accepting your embrace. The tiny sniffles you gave broke his heart. He held you close to his chest. One hand rested on your head, another arm wrapped around your back.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen. She could have lived,” you choked out. “Mhm, I know baby. Let it out.” he sighed.

Joel didn’t have to know the story to understand what was happening. He felt the energy coming off of you. It was bad.

“Everything will be okay.” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get to bed now, hm? We both could use some sleep.” he said, placing his hand on your waist and walking with you towards the bed.

You anxiously sat at the edge of your bed as Joel turned off the hallway lights. He hated the look on your face when he returned. Zoned out, you stared at the tiny photo on the dresser of him and Sarah. His large body broke your trance, engulfing you in another hug. “Everything’s going to be alright. Stop lookin’ so pitiful,”

Your hands grabbed his hips and drew him closer. The scent of pine filled your nose. He had been on patrol earlier that day you assumed. His hand carefully rested on your head, stroking your hair. Your forehead sat against his stomach. Joel’s stomach gargled, causing you to let out a brief laugh.

“Get in,” he said playfully, tipping your shoulder back as you fell into bed.

“Gassy,” you whispered, bringing your eyes up to match his. He was standing over you, your knees in between his legs.

“What did you say now?” he asked, smirk on his face. His large frame fell over yours. You yelped as he caught himself with his forearms next to your body.

“Watch it,” he whispered in your ear. He showered your face in kisses as you squirmed. Using his body as a catapult, you forced yourself out under him. Finally free.

You scooted over to your side of the bed and curled into the smallest ball you could. Joel knew exactly what you wanted.

He pulled up the sheet quickly with a snap, and let it fall over you slowly. He knew you loved this.

“Pillows good?” he asked. You nodded, a small smile appearing on your face. “You need anything else while I’m up?”

“No. But thank you.”

He climbed slowly in next to you. Joel clicked off the lamp and moved in right next to you. It was almost as your body was fit to compliment his. You two matched perfectly.

“We can talk about it in the mornin’ if you’d like.” he offered. He felt your head nod against his chest.

“Goodnight darlin’,” he said, wrapping an arm around you. “I’m sorry today didn’t go well. Tomorrow will be good, I’ll make sure of it. We can make a day of it,”

A sigh of relief came from you. He always made things better. He was right. Tomorrow would be a better day.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @jmillerswife

[iamzer0]

ƝЄƔЄƦ ƛԼƠƝЄ

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚗: 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚊, 𝙶𝚘𝚗, 𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚔𝚊, 𝙿𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚎 (𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎!)

Despite how everyone around you is acting, your life continues on. To say things have gotten worse is a huge understatement. Lemme give a run down of why, well it all started one week ago.

You had grown to hate the boys possessive behavior, you wanted to leave and go back home. Unfortunately things can never be that easy, you had been working up the courage and trying to find the words to say to let them down easy. Then you finally burst their bubble and told them the truth. You sat them down and told them “Guys I have to say something important” Gons smile slowly faded and a concerned look washed over his face. “I want you to know that…. I’m not happy here. I haven’t been for some time”

gon and Killua shared confused looks “what do you mean you’re not happy? You have everything you need” Killua said now slowly getting angry “Look I’m just tired, tired of well everything. I’m going back home tomorrow I miss my family and my bed. I hope y’all understand” you said trying to let them down gently. “Is it us?” Gon said “ no as I said I’m just tired” you said in an exhausted voice. “You sleep 8 hours every night!” Killua said in a somewhat desperate tone. “Look I’m going back home, I’m sorry but this is my decision” you said now agitated by their responses.

“We can’t let you do that!” Gon said exchanging looks with Killua “The world is dangerous! There are sick people out there that could hurt you!” Killua said angry that you would even say something such blasphemous. “Killua is right you could get hurt out there!! Let us protect you” Gon said in a worried tone, “I’m not made of glass I can protect myself! It’s my choice to leave not yours!” You said angrily “[reader] don’t do this!” Gon said

“IM LEAVING, THIS IS MY CHOICE STOP BEING SO DAMN CONTROLLING” you shouted then you turned to leave. No longer caring about hurting them. Suddenly you felt a sharp pain at the back off your neck then blackness.

You wake up, confused blinking wearingly. You try and get up but your arm won’t move you blink away the your sleepiness, and see your arm tied to the bed post of the bed in the hotel in Heavens arena you were staying at. Those fucking psychos you think. You look around and spot Gon and Killua sleeping on the couches. “What the fuck you guys?!” You scream waking them up.

“[reader] your awake!” Gon said in a somewhat happy tone but there was nothing to be happy about at least not in your eyes that is.

“What is happening?!” You shout as panic begins to replace your anger. “Calm down, look we couldn’t have you leave us, unprotected it’s safer with you here” Killua said attempting to calm you down.

“Calm down?!? I will not calm down what the fuck!?!” You said tugging at the chain hard, causing your wrists to bleed. They rushed over restraining you as you tried biting them.

So that’s how your life is going right now, they feed you everyday despite your many protests to be set free. You were scared, a week or two ago they were your best friends how did it come to this. You started to back track in your life to try and find out what changed. I mean you currently had a lot of free time. So you thought back on everything trying to find out why they are acting like this maybe it was Hisoka you thought, or maybe it was someone I fought, or maybe they’re just fucking lunatics you thought.

You eventually stopped caring all you wanted now was to escape and leave this place and never look back. So you hatched a plan, you were going to leave during the night. Killua was your biggest problem he was a fricken trained assassin how do you beat that? So you continued to develop the perfect plan then something unexpected happened. They had made it to the top floor.

Fuck. All that planning out the window, Gon decided to go and visit his aunt mito. They were taking you with them how you ask? By drugging you of course. Killua came into the room holding a needle and a bottle of mystery liquid. You started panicking, Gon rushed over and started trying to calm you down, but you kept squirming so he physically held you down while Killua put the needle in your arm mystery liquid filled your body.

“It’s alright” Gon said calmingly “you’re just going to go to sleep for a while” Gon said his voice now sounded like an echo, then darkness.

The drugs were strong but your will was stronger, even in your sleep you fought it. You woke up in flashes then immediately going back to sleep the first time it happened you were on someone’s back you ever so slightly turned your head and saw Hisoka standing in the hallway. The second time you woke up you were boarding a ship still on someone’s back.

The third time you were below deck with Gon standing over you feeding you what tasted like soup. The fourth and final time you were be carried bridal style into a house. Which you soon learned was aunt mitos.

You were placed on a bed “f-f….uck” you said waking up slowly with the world’s worst headache. After waking up you felt the weakest you had ever been in your entire life it was horrible. You were in and out of sleep, throwing up, having fever dreams the whole 9 yards.

They hated seeing you like this but they didn’t want you to try and run away. Aunt mito became your savior you tried asking her for help but she just thought you were in pain from this terrible sickness you contracted from the ship ride over, at least that’s what the boys said.

“H-he..lp m…me” you managed to croak out “awh you poor baby” Mito said while placing a cold cloth in your forehead. Even though she was clueless of your situation she was the only sane one in that house. She was oh so kind to you it was heavenly it reminded you of your parents taking care of up when you were younger and sick.

You got better and eventually you left agin with them to York new, something about finding Gons father with a game or whatever you didn’t care you were still planning your escape.

Y’all were finally at York new the boys still so protective and controlling over you, huddling around as to make sure nobody even got close to you.

They needed money and fast so they could buy the game at the auction. That was your way out, the auction, you had a fool proof plan. Step one act like their helpless little sibling gain their trust back, essentially playing into their delusions.

Step two beg to go to the auction say that you want to be there to support them in their journey to find greed island. Step three once you are there book it to the nearest and buff security guard and tell them about the lunatics keeping you captive.

Of course nothing can ever go as planned can it? The phantom troupe just had to come and ruin your plan.

They had heard that the phantom troupe was worth a crap ton of money so they were hunting them down, unfortunately when they got caught you just so happened to have been in the area.

Fuck your life you thought as they stuffed you in the limo. You sat near the ones called Maci and Phinks. Machi was silent just staring you down trying to intimidate you, it didn’t work you were to pissed to be scared, they royally fucked up your perfect plan. Phinks on the other hand kept trying to talk to you you wanted to slap the shit out of him but that would result in your death and you valued your life, sort of.

So you instead kept your mouth shut only responding when you thought he would be angry if you didn’t. You looked up and saw this weird short black haired guy staring at you like Machi. He scared you his aura alone was enough to keep you away.

They lead you into their hideout you were almost positive this would be your final resting place.

You surprisingly spotted someone you knew, Hisoka, fucking, marrow. Why of all people him, Gon almost gave away the fact y’all knew him. Maybe just maybe Hisoka could save you from this hell.

They discussed what to do with y’all, suddenly the blond one named Shalnark spoke up saying he knew you. What the shitnuggets you thought I don’t know this guy. Suddenly a distant memory flooded into your head you had met him.

At the time you didn’t know the tragedy he inflicted on your family. He had killed your aunt, in front of you, kinda lemme take you back.

He had heard about this valuable piece of tech that your aunt had, and of course he needed to have it. You had just so happened to be staying at your aunts at the time he decided to break in. He had broken in, your aunt of course was refusing to show him where it was, he’s a busy man so he placed his pin in her and mind controlled her into showing him were it was.

You had a nightmare and ran out of your room looking for your aunt you ran into him. He looked down surprised to see a tiny lil kid hugging his leg, crying, asking for your auntie. He hadn’t accounted for their being kids in the house, he had no problem killing kids, he hated doing it but if the job required it. This job didn’t, so in a split second decision he kneeled down to your level and patted your head saying your auntie was out and he was a babysitter.

He calmed you down and brought you back to bed, tucked you in and everything. He told you was watching a horror movie so any screams you heard where the movie. You fell asleep,woke up went out and found your aunt decapitated. Not a fun memory.

You spook up saying “Hey you were the babysitter that killed my aunt!” Killua and gon and most of the troupe gave you the “what the fuck” look.

“Ah so you do remember me” Shalnark said smiling “unfortunately yes” you said under your breath.

This was going to be a terrible interesting mostly terrible adventure. Buckle up!

That’s all for today I’ll update y’all tomorrow with part 3! :3 love you all remember to drink waterฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ(part one is on my page)

[the-s1lly-corner]

Flufftober prompt 4: rainy day (Jason Voorhees)

you can find the list here ! plot: you wait for jason to come home during a rainy night notes: reader is gn, established relationship, written with og jason in mind as opposed to the reboot, admin took creative liberty with the prompt its actually a rainy night LMAO, admittedly im not very proud of this one it feels a little dry GRRRGRRR this is what spending a big window of time not writing one shots does to a mf word count: 815 cws: canon typical violence, blood

You sat stationed at the window of the cabin, eyes squinting into the darkness. The sun had set long ago. Usually Jason didn't stay out this long on nights like these, especially when it's storming out.

You chewed the inner flesh of your cheek, fingers drumming against the window sill as you forced your eyes to work harder against the darkness. It wasn't like it was flooding outside, but there was some thunder out. For a moment the pit in your gut made itself known before you smothered it back. Sucking in air through your teeth, you got up from your seat and scuttered to the door. A crack of thunder made you pause for a moment, before stepping out into the night. You didn't even think about putting on a coat, or grabbing a light.

For a brief moment you thought about calling out Jason's name... but what if there were still trespassers running around? You opened your mouth, then quickly closed it. You opened it several more times, before deciding the risk wasn't worth it.

The steps creaked under you as you continued onward, your bare feet sinking slightly into the damp ground when you met it. You hardly made any progress before you bumped right into something very large...

Your face made contact with his drenched iron scented shirt. You ignored the feeling of the fabric peeling off of your skin as you pulled back, paying no mind to the red stamp left on your face. You had grown rather desensitized to the messes Jason makes. You could deal with that later when you could see the color on your cheek in the mirror. You hands blindly felt around in the darkness, before finding his hands. The cabin's lights were still just barely visible in the darkness. A gentle tug, and Jason let you lead him.

Neither of you said anything, though Jason's silence was to be expected.

You huffed a little as you stepped into the entryway, grimacing at your feet. Jason didn't look much cleaner. You helped him shrug off his soaked jacket, letting it fall to the ground with a loud smack. It will be hung up in the morning...

You finally got your first good look at Jason, and he looked just as you had expected after his nights out clearing the camp... no noticeable injuries this time, at least. "Finally taking my advice to not get hurt?" You teased, bringing a hand to pat his arm. Your smile curled, giving him a tug. "Come on, let's get cleaned up,"

And he followed.

It was still raining by the time the two of you left the bathroom, steam following the two of you as you stepped out. You'd already changed into your sleepwear, whereas Jason simply remained mostly undressed. You stretched, popping your back. You briefly debate whether or not you should try to stay awake for a little while longer but your body quickly decided that it needed rest immediately. Jason seemed to notice your exhaustion... you didn't even try to stop him as he coaxed you into the bedroom. Even if you had decided to stay awake he wouldn't let you. He let's you crawl into bed first, before carefully crawling in after you. The bed creaked and sagged, you shift to fall into his side just as he settles.

You splayed yourself across his chest, sighing gently. Eyes cracked open, you took note that his head was laid back against his pillow. He only usually did this when there was something on his mind. "I'm glad you didn't get hurt bad this time, you know," You mumbled.

A finger traced along his shirt, messing with the fabric. "I was worried the rain was going to get worse, I know you didn't mean to stay out for so long," You tapped a finger at his side. One of his own hands clasped itself on your upper arm, easily engulfing it. If the gesture was anything new you would have jumped out of your skin. You pulled your eyes back up to look at him. The air felt quieter now, only the sharp whistle of the wind outside and the drumming of the rain... but it was only white noise now.

You lowered your face back, and propped yourself against his chest. "Why don't we stay inside tomorrow?" You sank deeper. The hand on your arm lightly flexed, before relaxing. "I don't know about you, but I've got a feeling it's going to be bad outside for a while... at least a few more days..."

His body finally relaxed under yours, allowing itself to finally fully sink into the bed and go limp. "That sounds nice, doesn't it?" You chuckled as you kicked the blanket up into your hand and tugged it over the both of you.

You fell asleep to him drumming his fingers against your skin to the sound of the rain outside.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found a Pirate's Promise

Chapter 40: The Calm Before the Storm

A/N: We are back at it again with another chapter! Yall, I have finished the bonus chapter and I have advanced in the cake island writing and when I tell you… the plot is plotting! At this point we might be extending whole cake island just a bit more, cause Im about to so much! Thank you guys for liking, commenting, following, and reblogging. Now, without further a do, let the adventure begin!

Word Count: 7.7 K

Sanji X Reader, Sanji x Y/N, One Piece x Reader.

Y/N POV… 

“Y/N! Wake up!” The gentle nudge pulled me from the depths of sleep, but I groaned, trying to drift back into slumber. Just as I began to settle deeper into my dreams, I was jolted back into awareness when I felt the familiar weight of Zoro beside me. “What the…” I mumbled, blinking slowly and taking in my surroundings. The realization hit me like a wave, and my cheeks flushed a bright crimson as I looked down to see where I had been resting—on Zoro’s chest.

“Zoro, hey! Wake up!” I nudged him again, feeling a flutter in my stomach as I took in the sight of him. He just shifted, groaning softly as his grip on me tightened, his face now nestled against my neck. My heart raced at the unexpected closeness.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled, and I felt his lips brush against my skin in a soft peck. My breath hitched at the sensation, warmth spreading across my cheeks. “Zoro, please wake up!” I whispered-yelled, shaking him a little more insistently.

But instead of responding, he placed another gentle kiss on my neck. “Five more minutes, princess,” he muttered, a drowsy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. My heart fluttered at the endearment, but I couldn’t let him sleep any longer.

“Roronoa, I swear if you don’t wake up now!” I hissed, a mixture of annoyance and amusement in my voice. Just as I was about to give him another nudge, Nami came to my rescue, delivering a swift kick to Zoro’s side.

“Why’d you do that for?!” he protested, blinking awake and looking thoroughly disgruntled.

Nami ignored him, her expression serious as she moved to wake up Luffy, who was still lost in his “meat dreams.” I rubbed my right eye, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

“What’s wrong, Nami?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

“Two samurai have arrived at Wano!” she exclaimed, urgency lacing her tone.

“Crap, you don’t think it’s—” My words were cut short by a surge of anxiety. The thought of the samurai sending word about the imminent threat sent a chill down my spine.

“Luffy! Wake up!” Nami yelled again, her frustration boiling over as she continued to shake him.

Zoro, Chopper, a sleepy Usopp, and I began to get up, stretching our limbs as we processed the information. The previous warmth of the night felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the gravity of the situation.

Luffy was sleep-running along with the rest of us, grumbling as we rushed to reach Kinemon, Kanjuro, and Momonosuke before it was too late. "No fair, no fair! Why do I have to run before breakfast?" Luffy whined, rubbing his belly.

Nami sighed in frustration. "The whole country is in an uproar! To make matters worse, Cat Viper and the other warriors are already making their way into town as we speak."

"Do you think we’ll be getting another feast?!" Luffy asked, eyes lighting up at the thought.

"Luffy, now is not the time for feast dreams!" I shouted, still running.

We finally caught up with Kinemon, Kanjuro, and Momonosuke just before anyone spotted them. Quickly, we pushed them behind a nearby hidden wall, my heart pounding in my chest. "That was close," I whispered, leaning over and putting my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

Luffy, still unfazed, peered over the wall. "Looks like a fight!"

Just then, Kinemon stepped out of hiding and, to our horror, yelled at Cat Viper and Dogstorm to stop fighting. Kanjuro and Momo soon followed him out of the hiding spot.

Kinemon began his speech, talking about being a samurai and searching for Raizo. I slapped my hand to my forehead in disbelief. "This bonehead," I muttered.

"Someone’s gotta do something!" Nami hissed as Luffy, Brook, and Franky started heading over to them. I was about to join them when Zoro grabbed my arm.

"Zoro, what gives?" I asked, confused by his sudden hold.

"I'll go. You stay here with Nami and Robin for me," Zoro said firmly before making his way toward the others.

We watched as Kinemon stood in front of Cat Viper and Dogstorm, both in tears. “How I’ve longed for this day,” Dogstorm said, his voice heavy with emotion. Cat Viper echoed his sentiment, their heads bowed as a wave of silence fell over everyone.

"Raizo was in fact here all along," Cat Viper announced solemnly, and in that moment, every Mink warrior bowed their heads in reverence. All of us stood there, utterly shocked.

"I’m glad to hear it... thank you, friends," Kinemon said softly, gratitude lacing his words.

"So the whole country knew, but they all nearly died because of it," I whispered, the gravity of their loyalty weighing on me.

"None of them said a word…" Usopp muttered, tears streaming down his face. "They protected their friend until the end…"

"I’m sorry," Cat Viper apologized, "but we had to keep it a secret, even from you. Our people would never sell out a friend."

Kinemon’s voice choked up with emotion. "I am grateful to all of you," he said as he began to remove his kimono slightly, revealing a tattoo. The crest of the Kozuki Clan.

I couldn’t help but tease. "Didn’t take you as a man of tattoos, Kinemon."

His eyes darted toward my chest, causing irritation to spark through me. With one swift punch to his head, I growled, "My eyes are up here!" Kinemon groaned in pain, rubbing the spot where I hit him, before retreating to where Cat Viper and Dogstorm were standing. 

"I was getting ready for a fight, but turns out to be best buddies," Usopp grumbled, still baffled by the sudden shift in the situation as we sat on the rubble.

"It's not their fault. Although we are allies, some secrets need to be kept," Robin responded calmly, always the voice of reason.

As Cat Viper and Dogstorm began to argue again, Momo's voice cut through, shaky but strong. "That's enough, both of you, stop!" he cried, tears filling his eyes. "What happened between you two, whatever made you hate each other, I forbid you to continue it. And if it’s because of my father, you know how much it would break his heart to see this!"

Both Dogstorm and Cat Viper froze at Momo's words, bowing their heads in shame. The room fell quiet for a moment as they stopped bickering. I furrowed my brows, still trying to piece everything together.

"What’s going on?" I muttered under my breath, leaning slightly toward Robin.

"Did you just call your own kid... Lord?" Chopper asked, voice filled with confusion, as everyone stared at Kinemon.

"I must apologize for the deception," Kinemon said solemnly. "Lord Momonosuke is not my son."

The shock rippled through our group like a sudden gust of wind. "What?!" Usopp and Franky exclaimed, eyes wide as plates.

Kinemon continued, his expression serious as he explained the truth. "If our true identity had been revealed, it would have attracted deadly enemies."

"So, Momo's...?" I whispered, still processing the information.

"Forgive me for deceiving you," Momo said, stepping forward with a resolve in his small frame that made him seem older than his years. "But I am a lord!"

"Yes, but a naughty one!" Brook said, wagging a bony finger with a teasing smile.

"No, I'm not!" Momo snapped back, his face flushing in indignation.

Just as things seemed to calm down, Luffy suddenly started poking at Momo, inciting yet another round of chaos. "Oh, here we go again," I sighed, rolling my eyes as the two began their usual bickering.

But instead of going after Luffy this time, Momo made a sharp right and, to everyone's shock, dove headfirst into Nami’s chest. "Luffy's a brute! Oh, how he vexes me, O-Nami!" he whined, latching onto her dramatically.

Nami, used to his antics by now, just sighed, patting his head softly. "There, there, Momo."

But then, a mischievous gleam lit up her eyes. "By the way, Momo, if your father is the Lord of Wano, that means his castle must be filled with treasure, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at how quickly Nami’s thoughts turned to treasure. "Of course she would go there," I muttered with a grin

Luffy and Momo burst out laughing, basking in the joyous atmosphere that filled the air.

Suddenly, the minks began to cheer, causing all of us to turn around in confusion. "Hmm, did I miss something over there?" Luffy asked, tilting his head.

"It seems the minks are quite excited," Kinemon added, his voice calm but curious.

We all looked up, and there it was—a brilliant rainbow stretching across the sky, casting vibrant colors over the landscape. "Look, guys! A rainbow!" I said excitedly, pointing at the dazzling display.

"Wow!" Luffy exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. Minutes passed as we admired the sight, and then we were led to where Raizo was hidden.

We climbed up a massive tree, with Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp making ninja noises and playfully hopping around as they went. "You guys be careful! Don’t want you to fall now!" I called out, smiling at their antics. This caused Usopp and Chopper to freeze in fear for a moment before quickly steadying themselves.

When we reached the top, Cat Viper opened a hidden door in the tree, revealing a path down. Nami was trailing behind, calling out, "Slow down! It’s not a race!" as Robin and I leaped ahead.

"So long, slowpoke!" we teased, laughing as we hurried down the steps.

"What was that noise?" Chopper asked nervously as we continued descending.

"Raizo for sure," Cat Viper replied, which was all the encouragement Luffy, Chopper, Usopp, and Franky needed. They immediately bolted down the stairs, chanting, "Ninja! Ninja! Ninja!"

"There he is—Raizo the Great Ninja!" Cat Viper announced with a grand flourish.

When we finally reached the bottom and laid eyes on Raizo, the reactions from the crew were absolutely priceless. Luffy, Usopp, Franky, and Chopper looked completely horrified, as if their dreams of a cool, sleek ninja had been shattered. Zoro seemed visibly annoyed, his eyes narrowing, while Law facepalmed, clearly unimpressed.

"I guess ninjas are kind of lame," Zoro muttered under his breath, earning a groan of agreement from Law.

"Well, was he everything you boys hoped for?" I asked, unable to stop laughing at their bewildered expressions.

"I can’t believe this place," Nami sighed, shaking her head.

Just then, Robin gasped, her gaze fixed on a nearby stone. "That crest... it’s the Kozuki Clan’s symbol!"

"And that stone... it’s a deep red. I’ve never seen one in such an odd color," she added, stepping closer to inspect it.

"Yeah, that is a poneglyph," Cat Viper explained, nodding toward the stone.

Dogstorm joined in the conversation with Robin, discussing her home in Ohara and how much they knew about her tragic past. "So, can you tell me what makes this poneglyph unique?" Robin asked, her interest piqued.

"This one has a different purpose. Perhaps you’d like to read it?" Dogstorm offered, guiding her closer to the ancient text.

As Robin began to read the poneglyph, the boys continued their ninja fascination, still trying to figure out how this version of a ninja lined up with their wild imaginations. I nudged Nami and pointed toward them. "Look at that," I said, laughing as they huddled together, still confused.

Brook, who had been quietly observing everything, chimed in with his usual humor. "Yohoho! Raizo may not look the part, but I bet he’s got plenty of tricks up his sleeve! Perhaps he could teach me to vanish—although, I already lack a body to hide behind. Yohohoho!"

Nami giggled at Brook's joke, and I couldn't help but chuckle too, grateful for the lightheartedness amid all the revelations.

Suddenly, Robin finished reading and handed us the information from the poneglyph. "Well, Nami, Y/N?" she said, and both Nami and I leaned in to read the details.

"You got all this out of it?" I asked Robin, genuinely impressed.

"With this data, I can draw a nautical chart, then we can pinpoint the location of something, I’m sure!" Nami said excitedly, already thinking ahead.

"This stone has a special name, Road Poneglyph. As you all may know, all of the major players are searching for these to reach the Grand Line. That poneglyph is part of it—it's one of the keys to reaching the final island, Laugh Tale," Dogstorm explained.

"So this is a guide to the final island, Laugh Tale?" I said, feeling the weight of the discovery.

"Precisely so," Dogstorm nodded.

"Wow!" I exclaimed, turning toward Luffy, who had a huge grin on his face.

"If I can go there, that’ll mean I can be King of the Pirates!" Luffy yelled, full of excitement and determination.

"Finally! Laugh Tale!" Usopp cried out, tears streaming down his face.

"It’s just like that flower head told us! So this red stone is all we needed all along?!" Luffy pointed at the poneglyph with enthusiasm.

"Hold on, there’s more," Dogstorm interrupted. "It isn’t the only red poneglyph. There are four of them in total."

"The stone provides coordinates, but the location it gives on its own won’t lead directly to Laugh Tale. The other three Road Poneglyphs have coordinates to different places. Once you connect those points on a map, their true purpose will be revealed. Only then can you reach Laugh Tale at last."

We all shared a look of amazement. "It’s closer than I thought!" Luffy grinned widely, almost bouncing with excitement. "The final island!"

"Once we get there, we’ll know the truth—if it’s real or just a legend... the ONE PIECE!" Luffy declared, clenching his fist with determination.

"Never a dull moment," Robin said, looking over at Nami and me, who were both laughing at Luffy’s boundless energy.

"Alright, let’s go!" Luffy shouted, ready to dash off again. But just as he was about to bolt, Usopp grabbed the back of his shirt collar, pulling him back.

"And go where exactly?! It’s a big world out there!" Usopp said, his tone exasperated.

Luffy, still struggling against Usopp's hold, continued, "We’ll get Sanji, stop Y/N’s wedding, and find the One Piece!"

"And you’re going to do all of that alone?!" Usopp cried in disbelief, still holding Luffy by the collar.

"Well, not exactly. I’m going with him too," I added with a smirk, stepping forward.

Usopp’s face paled as he threw his hands up in the air. "Are you asking to be killed?! This is madness!"

I shrugged with a playful grin, feeling more confident and excited for the journey ahead.

"Honestly, if you travel with Pekoms to Whole Cake Island, we can kill two birds with one stone," said Cat Viper, causing Luffy to stop mid-run.

"We know there are four Road Poneglyphs, and we know one of them is here," Cat Viper continued. "The other two are under the control of pirates—powerful ones at that."

"Figures," Law muttered as he came to stand beside me, arms crossed.

"Okay, well who are these pirates?" Luffy asked, ever curious.

"One of them is Big Mom," Cat Viper revealed.

The moment he said her name, I felt a surge of anger rising. My fists clenched, and I could feel the familiar blue hue from my hidden blades illuminating brightly on my thigh holsters, reacting to my emotions. The light flickered intensely as I muttered under my breath, "That old hag... stupid wedding, stupid Big Mom."

Luffy turned toward me, eyes wide with excitement. "Whoa! You're glowing, Y/N!" he said with his usual carefree laugh, clearly more fascinated by the light than my frustration.

"Captain, this isn’t—" I began, trying to explain.

But before I could finish, Zoro cut me off, stepping up beside me and placing a steady hand on my shoulder. His touch was firm, grounding me, and his voice was calm yet protective.

"Princess here is just getting warmed up," Zoro said, giving me a sidelong glance, his expression half-teasing but with a hint of concern. His thumb rubbed gently over my shoulder as if to ease the tension that was building inside me.

I took a deep breath, trying to let go of some of the anger. "Thanks, Zo. I needed that," I said, my shoulders slumping as the tension faded.

Zoro smirked, his hand still resting casually on my shoulder. "Don’t mention it," he replied coolly, clearly feeling at ease.

But before I could fully relax, Law’s gaze sharpened. He stepped forward, his arms crossed tightly as he eyed Zoro with clear annoyance. "Hey!, don’t get too comfortable, Roronoa," Law said, his voice clipped. "She’s not your ‘princess’ to look after."

Zoro raised an eyebrow and smirked, clearly amused by Law’s irritation. "Maybe, but I don’t see you doing anything," Zoro shot back casually, his tone dripping with his usual calm confidence. "Besides, she seems pretty comfortable with me."

Law’s expression darkened. "Comfortable, huh? You might want to rethink that before you start getting ideas."

Usopp, sensing the tension rising, jumped in with his usual dramatic flair. "Oh, here we go! The epic rivalry between Zoro and Law for Y/N’s attention! Who will win?!" He pretended to wipe an imaginary tear. "This is gonna be good!"

Luffy, now fully entertained, laughed loudly. "Shishishi! Yeah, who’s gonna win?!"

I sighed, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous the situation was getting. "Guys, please…"

Zoro and Law both glared at each other for a moment, neither willing to back down. I sighed, unclenching my hands and glancing up at Cat Viper with an apologetic smile.

"Cat Viper, I apologize for all this..." I said, laughing a bit at the absurdity of it all.

"There's no need, Princess," Cat Viper replied warmly. "I can understand your frustration—being forced into a marriage you don’t want, along with losing your friend as well. It’s a lot to carry."

"It really is," I muttered softly, the weight of everything sinking in. Before I could dwell too much, Cat Viper continued his explanation.

"And the second emperor... Kaidou, King of the Beasts."

Nami, Chopper, Brook, and Usopp all shrieked in terror at the mention of Kaidou.

"That’s fine by me," Luffy and I said in unison, both of us sharing a determined glance.

"So, we just gotta rob them, right?" Franky chimed in with a smirk, causing Robin to laugh.

"Nothing a good stabbing won’t fix," Zoro added confidently, then turned his teasing smirk toward me. "Or in your case, princess, a good shock."

I chuckled at that, my blades glowing faintly at the thought, but I caught Law still glaring at Zoro, clearly not amused by his nonchalance.

"Bring it on! I’ll kick both their butts sooner or later!" Luffy yelled, pumped up and ready for the challenge.

"Have some sensitivity over here!" Usopp cried, tears streaming down his face as Chopper joined him in his panic. "I wasn’t prepared for any of this! I’ll pee my pants if I have to!"

I couldn’t help but laugh at Usopp’s exaggerated fear, the tension from earlier easing with every word.

"Hold on," Cat Viper said with a chuckle of his own, "you guys don’t have to steal the poneglyphs or do anything reckless like that."

"Make sure you don’t tell that to Y/N," Law said, smirking as he glanced at me. "She’ll still come up with some reckless plan anyway."

"Hey!" I protested with mock indignation, but I couldn’t stop a smile from breaking through. "Guilty as charged," I admitted with a playful grin, knowing full well my penchant for diving headfirst into danger.

"Just take an etching, and that way you can read it," Cat Viper suggested, as if the plan was that simple.

Suddenly, Usopp perked up with a wild idea. "We sneak into Big Mom's and Kaidou's hideouts, avoid any confrontations, make a copy, and then bam! We’ll sail straight to Laugh Tale, and everyone is happy!"

Both Luffy and I exchanged a skeptical glance, making faces at the absurdity of it. "Don’t make that face, you guys! You jerks!" Usopp exclaimed, launching himself at me and causing me to fall backward. "That was a good idea!" he insisted.

"No, it wasn’t!" I retorted, trying to push him off, but Luffy tackled Usopp and pulled me along with them.

"I want to kick butt and be manly!" Luffy shouted, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

Now all three of us were in a tangled heap, wrestling on the ground. "Don’t be a wuss!" we both shouted at Usopp, who was squirming in mock terror.

"Don’t get us killed!" Usopp yelled back, trying to wriggle free from our combined weight. 

Suddenly, I felt a firm grip on my waist, pulling me away from the pile. I kept squirming, confused and a bit annoyed at being separated from the fun. "Hey! What gives?" I shouted, surprised to find myself pulled away from Usopp and Luffy, who were still tangled up and arguing.

Zoro’s grip tightened, both hands firmly holding my waist as he effortlessly pulled me away from Usopp and Luffy, who were still tangled up and arguing. "You three are causing a scene," Zoro muttered, clearly unimpressed by the commotion we were making.

"Zoro!" I exclaimed, half-laughing, half-annoyed as I continued to squirm in his grasp. "Let me go, I was winning!"

"Winning what?" he scoffed, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Rolling around like kids? Get a hold of yourself."

I shot him a playful glare. "You just don't get it!"

Zoro smirked, his grip still firm. "Yeah, yeah. Come on, stop squirming," he said, his tone firm but amused as he finally let go of me, but not before shaking his head with a slight chuckle.

As I brushed myself off, I couldn't help but notice Law watching the whole thing with narrowed eyes, clearly irritated by the scene. Usopp, still caught in Luffy’s grasp, waved frantically. "I was not losing!" he shouted.

"Yes, you were! I was beating you!" I retorted, playfully sticking my tongue out at Usopp as I dusted myself off. Before I could fully regain my composure, I felt a sudden tug as Law pulled me towards his side.

His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close to him. "You're always in the middle of some ridiculous mess," he muttered, clearly trying to hide his annoyance but not quite succeeding. His voice was low, though I could hear the possessiveness in it.

I blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden move, and a playful grin crept onto my lips. "Oh? Getting a little jealous, Law?" I teased, nudging him lightly.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, though his narrowed gaze on Zoro said otherwise. "Just keeping you out of trouble."

Zoro, noticing the interaction, smirked as if challenging Law. "Don't hurt yourself, Law. Keeping up with her is harder than you think," he quipped, his tone teasing but with an edge that made Law's grip on my waist tighten slightly. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the tension between the two. 

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the tension between Law and Zoro, only to be interrupted by Brook suddenly getting himself tangled up with Luffy and Usopp. "Brook! How did you get caught up in that mess?!" I exclaimed, watching the skeleton flail his bony arms dramatically.

"I don’t know, but help! Yohohoho! This is not how I imagined spending my day!" Brook cried, his voice muffled by the chaos.

Suddenly, Chopper’s voice broke through the laughter. "But wait, we don’t even know where the fourth poneglyph is, right? Can we even get to Laugh Tale with just three?"

"I doubt it," Nami said with a sigh, ever the voice of reason. "Even pirates can’t cheat their way into Laugh Tale. Eventually, we’ll have to figure out where that last one is."

As the rest of us continued to watch Brook, Usopp, and Luffy tangled up like a mess of limbs, Luffy’s voice rose above the confusion. "We’ll cross every bridge! There are no rules in becoming King of the Pirates!"

"Says who?!" Usopp retorted, still stuck and clearly not amused. "Someone, help me already!"

Brook, on the verge of giving up, shouted, "Me too! I’m a musician, not a wrestler!"

The absurdity of it all made me laugh, but then Cat Viper’s serious voice brought us back to reality. "But you're the one I’m most worried about, Nico Robin. Those interested in the blank century are also after the poneglyphs. But none of them can read the ancient texts. So, when they hit a dead end... they’ll come after you."

As we all recalled the events of Enies Lobby, a somber mood fell over us. Robin, however, smiled with her usual grace. "I’m not worried. My friends are strong. I know they’ll protect me, no matter what happens."

Her confidence in us made me blush a little, and I noticed Zoro and I exchanging a glance. We both nodded in silent agreement, knowing that we would do anything to keep Robin safe. We didn’t need words to express it, but our shared look said enough.

"It sounds like they have things covered," Cat Viper mused, reassured by Robin's words.

Minutes passed as Cat Viper delved deeper into the history of the Kozuki clan and Kozuki Oden. "They made the poneglyphs," he revealed, shocking us all.

"All the stones were made by them... and I never knew," Robin said in awe, her eyes wide with realization.

"The only thing passed down was the method to decipher the texts," added Raizo, his voice heavy with the weight of history.

The mood darkened as both Kin'emon and Kanjuro tensed at the mention of Oden, and Kin'emon’s voice wavered with emotion. "Lord Oden is gone… and Wano is... Wano is..."

Kin'emon couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, bowing his head and punching the ground in anguish. "Lord Oden was executed… by order of the Shogun of Wano, who is allied with Kaidou. But he faced his death willingly, to save his retainers."

We all gaped at the revelation, the gravity of it sinking in. Law, standing beside me, muttered, "This runs deep."

Kin'emon continued, his voice thick with grief. "Even today, the foul emperor Kaidou and his Beast Pirates control Wano. They don’t want our lives… they want the information we hold. You see, Lord Oden once traveled with the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, and saw the final island—Laugh Tale."

The mention of Roger’s name sent a shiver through me, and I whispered, "Roger..." feeling the significance of it all. Law’s grip on me loosened as he absorbed the weight of the story.

"Momo’s dad used to be on Roger’s crew?" Luffy asked, wide-eyed, as the rest of us tried to process the revelation.

“That’s a big deal! Why didn’t you tell us this stuff?!” Luffy exclaimed, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by shock. Momo, still in tears, nodded, confirming the gravity of everything we’d just learned.

"So you’re saying Kaidou was using Doflamingo and Caesar to try and learn the world’s secrets or something?" Zoro asked as he sat on the ground, processing everything.

"Yes, that is correct," Kin’emon replied, his voice filled with regret. "We all failed to protect our lord, as samurai," he added, his head hung low. "His final message before his departure was, ‘Do it for me, open Wano’s borders.’" Kin’emon, Cat Viper, Dogstorm, Kanjuro, and Raizo all spoke the words in unison, their loyalty to Oden clear.

"But why?" Chopper asked innocently, his voice soft with concern.

"Wano’s borders have been closed for generations. No one is allowed to leave or enter the country," Brook explained, his somber tone matching the seriousness of the conversation. "But if they open the borders, it will allow them to interact with other countries."

Nami glanced at Momo, who was still crying, and instinctively moved to comfort him, but Luffy gently stopped her, a serious look on his face. "Still, we all must win. That’s why, in search of allies, we turned our attention to the sea. Our original destination was Zou," Kin’emon explained.

"The minks and the Kozuki clan are sworn allies," Dogstorm added, his voice filled with pride and determination.

"But we underestimated the enemy," Cat Viper and Dogstorm said in unison, both of them clearly frustrated by the events that had transpired.

"Hey, they played a dirty trick on you. Don’t beat yourselves up," Franky said, trying to lift their spirits.

"Yeah! How would you have known they were going to use that poison gas?" Usopp added, still angry about the underhanded tactics.

Both Cat Viper and Dogstorm looked ready for another round, their warrior spirits clearly unbroken. Kin’emon then made the bold request to Luffy and Law: to help them slay the Shogun of Wano and strike down Kaidou.

"I’m all about this alliance—the minks, the samurai, and ninjas!" Usopp shouted, suddenly excited at the idea.

"Will you assist us, Sir Luffy?" Kin’emon asked, his voice full of hope.

"I refuse," Luffy said without hesitation, shocking all of us.

"What?!" we all gasped in disbelief.

"It’s a no," Luffy repeated, standing firm as everyone started begging him to reconsider.

"Hold up, I think Luffy actually has a point here," Nami said, her back turned to us.

"Nami?" I whispered, confused at her change in tone.

"After all, we should negotiate," Nami added, her eyes gleaming with Berri signs.

"Nami..." I shook my head in disbelief, knowing exactly where her mind was at.

Luffy, however, had his sights set on Momo. "What are you, a figurehead? Huh, Momo?! You’re in charge, right? Say something already! You’re just going to cry?!"

Nami slapped Luffy, trying to get him to ease up, but Luffy continued to push Momo. "Come on, Momo! You want to be the leader, don’t you?!"

Brook chimed in, "Now, now, Luffy. You’re expecting too much from him. He’s just a child. Heirs don’t usually take the throne until they come of age."

Momo, still in tears, walked slowly toward Luffy. "Luffy... Luffy, I... I want to vanquish Emperor Kaidou. He’s the enemy of both my parents and the cause of their untimely deaths. I want nothing more than to grow up and be strong, so that one day, I might smite him... I want to protect my loyal servants as well. That’s why I must ask—will you please help? Please, Luffy... I beg of you..." Momo's voice was filled with determination and sorrow.

Luffy caught Momo’s face in his hand and smiled. "That’s more like it," he said, his tone finally softening. "Hey, Momo, let’s team up. Just leave Kaidou to me, and you’ve got an alliance," Luffy said, extending his hand.

Momo gripped Luffy’s hand tightly, tears streaming down his face as he thanked him. The sight of it made all of us smile. It was a moment of unity.

Law, who had been standing beside me, finally stepped away and approached Luffy, his usual calm broken by annoyance. "Hey, Strawhat, you should’ve run this by me first," Law said, irritation clear in his voice.

"It’s cool, right?" Luffy replied nonchalantly.

"It is, but still..." Law grumbled, his frustration evident.

"Then it’s settled," I said, breaking the tension as I walked over and sat down next to Zoro. Luffy laughed as Law glanced at me and blushed.

"Okay! Let’s gather around! Come on, everyone, are we all ready?!" Luffy shouted enthusiastically, raising his fist. "We’re going to kick Emperor Kaidou’s ass together!"

"The Ninja-Mink-Pirate Alliance!" Luffy declared as we all cheered in unison, pumped up for the coming battle.

"Do we really need the 'Ninja' part?" Nami asked, exasperated.

"Of course, we do!" Zoro, Franky, and Usopp barked back in unison, unwilling to let go of the idea.

"The target’s Kaidou, so Cat Viper, Dogstorm, Momo, Kin’emon, Kanjuro, Ninja guy, and Traffy—we've got a solid team. I don’t know much about Kaidou, but with an alliance like this, he’s toast!" Luffy said enthusiastically. "By the way, don’t ever bow your head to me again, or kneel. Us being in an alliance means we’re best friends too!" he added, grinning wide.

"We are not!" Law retorted, visibly annoyed.

"But if we’re working together, there’s one condition..." Luffy started, his expression growing serious. "Before we go anywhere, my crew is down a man."

"Gotcha, this is about Sanji," said Cat Viper, already putting the pieces together.

"What happened?" asked Dogstorm, his concern evident.

"I’m afraid that... is a long story," Nami sighed, the weight of recent events clearly heavy on her. "And on top of that, one of my crewmates is being forced into an arranged marriage with the Vinsmokes."

My jaw clenched as Luffy mentioned it, my frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"I see..." Dogstorm said gravely. 

"How unfortunate, I did not know the reason for Sir Sanji’s absence, nor Lady Y/N's predicament." said Kinemon his expression somber

"Both Y/N and I are going to run off and rescue Sanji. We’re going to stop this arranged marriage of hers, so hold off on fighting until we get back," Luffy declared, his voice filled with determination.

"That’s your only condition? Then we shall gladly stand by," Raizo said, understanding the seriousness of the situation.

"Thank you," Luffy and I said in unison, sharing a brief, determined glance.

"And trust me, Sanji is as strong as a thousand people! When we bring him back, it’ll be worth it," Luffy added confidently.

"Then I’m worth two thousand people," Zoro said confidently, arms crossed as he glanced around at the crew.

Nami, with a smirk, reached over and patted his head. "Of course you are," she said in a teasing tone, knowing exactly how to stoke the rivalry between him and Sanji.

Before I could add my own comment, I suddenly felt strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, pulling me back into Zoro’s firm grip. His face rested near my neck, his voice low and teasing. "Right, princess?"

I smiled, leaning back into him with a chuckle. "Of course, Zoro. We’re partners, after all," I teased back, feeling the heat of his breath against my skin.

"I see, he'd be quite the asset; however, take precautions—this is Big Mom," Dogstorm cautioned.

"We're not planning on fighting her. Besides, we'll take Lion Viper," Luffy countered with a grin.

"Who is that?" Dogstorm asked, his brow furrowing as Cat Viper chuckled at the nickname Luffy had given Pekoms.

Minutes passed as we made our way down from the secret location. "In the meantime, I'd like to get in touch with a certain someone. It never hurts to add more manpower at our disposal," Cat Viper said thoughtfully.

"Who is it?" Luffy asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"He's the former commander of Whitebeard’s first division—Marco the Phoenix."

"Marco!" both Nami and I exclaimed in unison, while Luffy struggled to recall who he was.

"For real?!" Usopp added, incredulity evident on his face. Luffy scratched his head, still puzzled.

"He looks like a pineapple," Robin chimed in, and a look of recognition washed over Luffy.

"Oh yeah! He’s strong!" Luffy exclaimed, finally putting the pieces together.

Cat Viper explained how the remnants of Whitebeard's crew had fought against Blackbeard's crew, some of whom had since disappeared. "He fought with Blackbeard’s crew?" I asked, a mix of concern and curiosity in my voice.

"It was a massive confrontation; both sides brought reinforcements last year," Robin elaborated.

"Marco, in the end, was defeated. Afterward, Blackbeard received his recognition as one of the Four Emperors," she added.

"I see. I had no idea... Blackbeard! That bastard!" Luffy shouted, his fists clenched in anger.

"I do remember one thing, though. After I blacked out, Jinbe told me that some of Whitebeard’s crew stepped in to fight," Luffy recalled, his expression thoughtful. "I want to see him again and say thanks."

Cat Viper nodded. "I need to organize everything and get my ducks in a row so the plan can go into motion."

"Alright, should we divide into groups?" Luffy suggested.

"I’ll head to Wano," Kinemon stated, and we all voiced our concerns about Kaidou still being in charge, as well as how the shogun wanted them dead.

"If you travel in our submarine, you’d be pretty safe, wouldn’t you?" Law offered.

"Brilliant, Sir Law! You don’t mind harboring us on your vessel?" Kinemon asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"It’s fine," Law replied in his usual stoic manner, glancing at me. I shot him a soft smile, causing a slight blush to creep onto his cheeks.

"But you will need to seek cover. I can’t help you there," Law stated, his voice firm.

"That’s fine. Then I’ll look for Marco myself," Cat Viper said resolutely.

"We’ll meet at Wano and prepare for war, agreed?" Dogstorm confirmed.

"Okay then, it’s a plan!" Luffy said, excitement bubbling over.

"Well, see ya! You better not get lost," Zoro chimed in, crossing his arms with a smirk.

"Look who’s talking!" both Nami and I replied in unison, exchanging amused glances.

Suddenly, the minks rushed in, suggesting we should have a banquet to celebrate everything that had happened. Raizo was well, and both Cat Viper and Dogstorm were no longer fighting. The Kozuki clan was reunited once more.

As we made our way back to town, Luffy started cheering about food, but Nami quickly interrupted him. "Wait a minute, Luffy! What’s your priority right now? Stuffing your face or helping out your two crewmates?" she scolded.

"She’s sorta right, you know. As much as I want to celebrate, we’ve got to figure this one out," I added, gripping the hilt of my sword.

"So, Nami, you’re coming too?" Luffy asked, squished between the minks.

"Of course! I feel partially responsible for this whole mess, after all. Besides, how are you guys going to get there without a New World navigator?" Nami replied confidently.

"She’s got a point there," I said, scratching the back of my head, feeling a blush creeping up.

"Luffy, me too! Pekoms is severely injured; he needs a doctor," Chopper piped up, eager to join.

"And I..." Brook began, strumming his guitar strings, "for who will soothe your souls when the world gets you down... also, who will play your wedding march, Y/N!"

"Brook, for the last time! I’m not getting married!" I barked, exasperated and throwing my hands up in defeat.

"Well, Sanji might have something to say about that!" Usopp teased, a grin spreading across his face as he glanced at Zoro. "I mean, if he were here, he would totally take you away from Zoro!"

Zoro shot Usopp a fierce glare, frustration evident as he crossed his arms tighter. "I doubt that," he muttered, though a hint of protectiveness crept into his voice.

Law’s jaw tightened at the mention of Sanji, an annoyed look crossing his face. He seemed torn between concern for me and irritation at the situation. "You all just keep forgetting that this is serious," he said, trying to keep the mood focused.

Zoro stepped forward, determination etched on his face. "I’m coming too," he said firmly.

"No, you’re not, Zoro. I need to do this one on my own," I insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"She’s right. If they have any more people, the whole plan is in jeopardy. Just grab Sanji, end the arranged marriage, and haul ass out of there," Franky added, his tone serious.

"But..." Zoro hesitated, clearly conflicted.

"Don’t worry, Zo. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got to ask Sanji what he meant in that letter he wrote to me," I told him, trying to reassure him.

"Sanji is just going to hurt you..." he whispered, his voice low, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Why would you say that?" I questioned, genuinely puzzled.

"I just... I just know it!" he replied, frustration lacing his tone.

"Zoro, this is Sanji we’re talking about. I mean, it’s not like he’s going to do something that will completely and utterly destroy me," I reasoned.

"Don't worry about it, Zoro," I said, trying to lighten the mood, but I could see the tension in his posture.

"Just don’t get yourself hurt," Law interjected, his tone surprisingly gentle as he looked at me. I could sense the jealousy simmering beneath the surface in his gaze.

I smiled, touched by the gesture. "Of course! Besides, I'm carrying you with me," I said, holding out the necklace Law had given me.

Law blushed, a smirk playing on his lips as he stepped closer. "You’ll have to make sure to take good care of it," he said, his voice playful yet serious.

Zoro noticed our interaction, his jaw tightening slightly

As I turned back to Zoro, I noticed the determined look in his eyes, but it was accompanied by something deeper—something that suggested he was grappling with more than just the current situation.

Suddenly, he reached up, pulling off his signature black bandana. "Here," he said, his voice low as he approached me. He tied it gently around my head, making sure it fit snugly. "I'm giving this to you so that you know I'm always there with you, even when I'm not," he whispered, his eyes searching mine.

Before I could respond, he pulled me into a warm hug. His embrace was firm, yet there was a vulnerability in it that made my heart race. "You better come back to me," he added softly, his voice barely above a murmur, filled with unspoken worry.

Usopp, witnessing the intimate moment, raised his eyebrows in shock. "Whoa, did Zoro just go soft?" he exclaimed, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

Law shot a glare in Usopp’s direction, clearly feeling jealous and crossing his arms tighter. "Seriously, it’s not the time for jokes, Usopp," he said, annoyance evident in his tone.

Zoro stepped back, his expression hardening again, masking the angst that had briefly surface

"Stay safe out there, you guys," Usopp called out, his voice filled with concern as Nami, Chopper, Brook, Luffy, and I nodded in agreement.

"Of course!" Luffy replied, his usual enthusiasm shining through.

"Oh, Luffy... can you bring me a Poneglyph rubbing, pretty please?" Robin asked with a hopeful smile.

"Sure thing!" Luffy grinned, already imagining the adventure ahead.

"Good, so are we good now? Can we eat?" Luffy asked, rubbing his stomach.

"For real, I’m starving!" I laughed, feeling the familiar warmth of camaraderie among us.

Suddenly, Zoro’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, his expression shifting to one of concern. "Something wrong?" I whispered, sensing the tension in the air.

Cat Viper’s tail began to frizz up, and I noticed all the minks were growing restless. "What the hell?" Cat Viper exclaimed, his eyes darting around.

Before we could process what was happening, the ground began to tip over, and the minks started rolling. I struggled to hold on to the floor but kept slipping. Luffy held Nami and Brook close as they too were pulled by the sudden movement.

"Damn it!" I shouted, trying to regain my balance, but it was futile. The ground shifted again, and I lost my grip, rolling the other way. "Ahhh!" I screamed, panic rising as I tried to catch hold of anything.

"Y/N!" Luffy shouted, stretching his arm out just in time to grab me.

"Thanks, Luffy!" I said, relief flooding through me. "What’s happening?"

"Zou is shaking!" Wanda replied, her eyes wide with fear.

We shook again, and Luffy’s grip on me began to slip. "Luffy!" I yelled as Nami also lost her balance.

The shaking suddenly halted, but Luffy clutched his head, his expression troubled. "Luffy, what’s wrong?" I asked, my worry deepening.

"Can’t you hear?!" he exclaimed, eyes wide with concern.

"No, what’s happening?" Nami pressed, looking around frantically.

"Back away from the buildings! Everyone, let’s huddle together!" Wanda commanded, her voice steady despite the chaos.

"Does anyone know what’s going on here?!" Law shouted, his calm demeanor belying the urgency of the situation.

"Jack has returned!" Momo yelled, spotting a vision in the distance.

"It can't be!" Wanda gasped, fear etched on her face.

"I thought he was dead?" I said, grabbing my sword from its holster, ready to press one of the three gemstones adorned on its hilt. But then, I felt a different power surging through me. "What is this..." I thought, confused but intrigued.

"There are about five ships attacking his leg!" Momo shouted, both he and Luffy experiencing another voice together.

"You can hear Zou?" Nami asked, surprised.

"The elephant is asking for orders to go into battle!" Momo explained urgently.

"Luffy, urge Momo to tell the elephant to give the order, or else we all will drown and die!" I said, adrenaline pumping through me.

"Hurry up, Momo! Just do it!" Luffy pressed, his voice rising above the panic.

Momo quickly relayed the order, and the elephant began to shake again. I placed my sword back in its sheath behind me, gripping the floor once more as the tremors continued.

"It’s calm again," Franky announced, relief evident in his tone. "I can’t hear the loud voices anymore."

"Everyone! You won’t believe what I just saw!" the monkey shouted excitedly.

"So Zunesha used her own trunk for self-defense," Dogstorm explained, his eyes wide with realization.

"Hey, why the long faces?" Luffy exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, alright, good luck with that then. Anyway, we are about to take off now! Can we get some food before we go?" he asked, his hunger taking precedence once more.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his unwavering focus on food despite the chaos. "That’s Luffy for you!" I thought, feeling a mixture of anxiety and determination wash over me. We were about to confront Big Mom, save Sanji, and put an end to my forced marriage.

[themultifandomgal]

Shelby Sister- Strained Relationship Pt1

YN and her older brother Tommy have never seen eye to eye. Their relationship strained from the moment she was born. Maybe it's because YN was born 2 years after Tommy, he was jealous that all his mums attention went to the young baby. Maybe it was because growing up their personalities were way to similar and now they just but heads. Even though there is this strain on their relationship, Tommy doesn't want to loose any more of his siblings. So with Luca Changretta in town after the murder of John Shelby, Tommy has taken extra precautions to try and keep his family safe

"Finn I'm fine. I'm just going to the bakery" YN tells her youngest brother who has always been very protective of his eldest sister

"But..."

"Finn seriously what's gonna happen?" YN crosses her arms

"Don't bother trying to stop her brother. She does as she pleases"

"But Tom..."

"You know our YN" Tommy puts down his paper and stands up walking towards his sister "but don't come crying to me if a bullet lands in your head"

"Don't worry. Rather that bullet kill me that come to you"

"When will you two stop hating one another"

"Ask 'im. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going. I'll be half an hour" YN takes her coat and and leaves the house.

On her way back home, with cakes and buns in her brown paper bag YN feels as though there are eyes on her. Turning around she can't see anyone, so YN picks up her pace. That is until she's pulled down an alleyway, dropping her purse and brown bag. Something sharp hits her head and suddenly YN is on the floor surrounded by a growing pool of blood.

Half an hour went by, then an hour, then an hour and a half. Finn starts to get worried

"Will you stop pacing" Tommy mutters

"She said half an hour. She was going to the bakery"

"Probably gone for a fuck

"Whatever Tom. I'm going to look for her"

"Knock yourself out"

"If she's dead, that's on you" with that Finn takes his coat and stormed out the house searching for YN. Tommy carried on drinking his whiskey, but something Finn said doesn't sit right with Tommy 'if she's dead that's on you' YN wasn't one to tell them how long she'd be and be gone much longer. Putting down his drink he sighs taking his own coat off the rack and heading out onto the streets of Small Heath. Deciding to look at the bakery first for his sister, he starts walking that way, noticing how the cool air is pricking at his face like a dozen needles. His sister must be freezing, he thought walking through the street. Half way to the bakery he sees YNs purse, a discarded paper bag and blood. Lots of blood. But no YN. For the first time, his heart sinks at the thought of YN being hurt or worse. Looking closer he sees a bullet on the ground, picking it up he sees a name engraved, Luca Changretta. He's gone to far now. Luca has Tommys sister, possibly even hurt her, he's going to kill him. 

YN wakes up to a pounding head. She's in a dimly lit room, tied to a chair

"Ahh your awake. Nice of you to join us miss Shelby. Your brothers should have noticed that your missing by now and dear old Tommy will come to save you" this makes YN chuckle

"Tommy doesn't care about me. You took the wrong Shelby sister if you want Tommy to hand  over the company. Your gonna have to do better than this"

"If Tommy still wants a relationship with the rest of his family then he'll save you"

"Yeah right" YN scoffs at the man she knows to be Luca Changretta "what's another death in the Shelby family eh? you've already killed John, least if I'm dead I'll be with my brother, away from this cruel world"

"Oh don't worry Miss Shelby, you'll be joining your brother soon, in fact all of you will, but I must wait until he arrives"

"Like I said. He won't"

"We will just have to wait and see, won't we mia cara"