#but not in the usual way you think of Law and Kid I guess

[l-in-the-light]

Why is Law so afraid to be used and hates to be ordered around ? I think of the scenes in Wano where Kid makes fun of Law being Luffys subordinate.

I love when I get asks casually giving me the biggest questions I had since the first time I reread those scenes haha. Keep them coming!

There's no direct answer to this question stated anywhere in the manga, at least for now. But we can read a lot between the lines. So let's dive in! And I mean it when I say we will take a dive, because I brought up every. single. scene in which Law complains to be ordered around! We will try to find a common pattern here. But first, let's start from "afraid to be used and hates orders" part:

Most important reason is Doflamingo. No surprise here that he's the one behind Law's fear.

We know Law recruited himself into his family and even tells Cora-san he wants to be "Doflamingo's subordinate" and that "he doesn't have to listen to Corazon" because of that.

And we know as well how Doflamingo operates. He grooms his subordinates to die for him. It might be the first time Law heard about that here and it clearly terrified him, he understands that Doflamingo would keep him around just because he obeys him, like an useful tool, not even human.

In comparison, Cora-san showed him compassion and love. It means a lot to Law, who felt he was no longer considered human by other people because of his disease. And here he learns Doflamingo, a person Law somewhat respected, who defended him in front of others who feared to be in the same room as him, would actually also not see him as a human. This must have been a major blow to Law, breaking his trust, yet again, in other people.

Now let's take a look at that:

That's what Doflamingo tells Monett and Vergo to do, just "die for him". That's how he would have groomed Law as well, if Law stayed with him, he would teach him obedience and to follow his orders, just so Law would be ready to sacrifice his own life as well, one day.

And here we have Bellamy, who would also do just about anything to earn Doflamingo's respect, even if it means dying for him. It's possible Law's mercy for Bellamy is related to this: Law was also once in that position himself. And Law would do everything not to be in that position ever again.

Now let's take a look at Law giving orders himself. He does it but only to people he considers lower in hierarchy than him and mostly to protect their lives. He made an equal alliance with Strawhats and in general he tries his best not to give them orders (he does those funny suggestions instead). There's one exception for it though: if situation truly requires it and there's no other option, he will give an order, just like Luffy.

Meanwhile he himself isn't really great at obeying rules and following orders. How many times has he broken the law of blood while staying with Doflamingo's Family?

He doesn't like other people making decisions for him, especially if he doesn't feel ready for whatever they try to make him do.

The "Don't tell me what to do" attitude. To be fair, Luffy's triggered by that as well. They both don't like it when others decide things for them. For Luffy it also applies to setting destination for adventures, Luffy always wants to be the one to decide that himself.

And finally, we reach the very first scene when Law says it outloud: don't order him around! Please notice though that Kid and Luffy say basically the same thing, yet Law directs his complaint only to Kid. He's fine with Luffy saying the same thing, curious, ain't it?

Again, Law is complaining to Kid to stop ordering him. Law's the one who will decide what he wants to do.

And again, complaining to Kid.

One time he complains to Zoro, but this time not because he feels like he's ordered around. He feels like he's a babysitter, constantly having to support others instead of focusing on his own fight. Well, Law, everyone knows you're actually their babysitter in this alliance, a bit late to complain. And yet, despite complaining, he never denies the Strawhats and does what he's told anyway.

"I won't let it slip this time" says Law outloud for some reason, which is very uncharacteristic of him. It's almost like he's doing it for the show.

Let's sum it up so far: Law complains 3 times to Kid, once to Luffy, and once to Zoro (about babysitting in the last case). And let's take a look in which scenes he actually does what he's told to do without complaining:

This time he doesn't even comment on it, just takes Zoro and shambles out.

Zoro tells him he counts on him. Curiously enough it's the exact same phrase Law used all the way back in Dressrosa when he asked Cavendish to just leave him to rot (Cavendish didn't agree with that).

That's just from Wano, because no matter how much I searched, there was literally no scene in Punk Hazard or Dressrosa when Law complained about people ordering him around. None at all. Despite Luffy destroying his plans, dragging him forcefully through half of Dressrosa, and then undermining their ultimate strategy to take down Doflamingo, the only complaints Law had was "what about my cuffs??" and "we will have to face against a very furious emperor!".

And this here, when Luffy decides against what Law told him. Law did get his revenge when he later shambled himself with Luffy's position, just like he originally wanted, instead of shambling himself next to Luffy to do a combined attack (which would have been more effective!). But it was payback, and payback was important.

And then we have this scene, in which he just voices his feelings outloud instead.

Now that we have gathered all the necessary evidence, I will share my interpretation of this: Law has no problem usually with Luffy, even when Luffy acts really selfish, destroys his plans and Law has to babysit him. He simply takes it like a man, without complaining about his fate that he chose for himself after all (Law was the one to propose the alliance in the first place, he knows the responsibility is his!).

Curiously enough Law also has no problem with Luffy in Sabaody. That might be because he feels grateful to him there, after all he even gives half the credit for freeing Jean Bart to Luffy. Luffy might have gotten them into trouble in the first place, but Law instead thanks him "for showing him something interesting". That "something interesting" wasn't only about punching Celestial Dragon, but also defending Hachi when people around were afraid of him and crying out bullshit like "he will spread diseases! Don't come closer!!". Law heard those phrases as well when Corazon was searching for cure to Law's amber lead syndrome. It probably triggered a flashback for him. Seeing Luffy punch a Celestial Dragon and with that punch also defending Hachi must have reminded Law of what Corazon did back then as well: punching some doctors for Law. Law probably "let it slip" when Luffy said the same thing as Kid, because he was simply grateful. Meanwhile, he doesn't want to owe anything to Kid or be grateful to a person who talked shit about Law behind his back.

Okay, but then what about Wano. What's Law's problem in Wano all of a sudden??

His problem has a name. That name is Eustass Kid. As soon as Kid became part of the raid, Law is behaving differently and complaining about being ordered around. He comments stuff outloud, he starts to openly compete, he makes a big show of getting angry at Luffy for ordering him around (which he never did before!), complains he's a babysitter... and as soon as Kid is gone to fight Big Mom, Law is back to his normal behaviour again. For me this proves that if Kid wasn't there, Law wouldn't even say that line in the first place.

Let's take a look again at this scene:

Law is complaining to Luffy while making sure their eyes are on same level. He's basically saying "this is an alliance, we're equals, don't give me orders in front of Kid, it makes me look bad". Kid is an outsider, Law has bad beef with him ever since Sabaody, he wants Luffy to be more mindful about Law's own feelings here. Funny thing is, Luffy quickly gets the drift, proposes the stupid chicken game which actually works on freaking Eustass Kid which surprises Law.

Just look at him looking at Kid. Luffy ended up being involved in the conflict between Kid and Law, and took Law's side in it, but not in an obvious way: he made it a competition for all three of them, yet pulled a move on Kid that he couldn't refuse. Luffy is pretty smart at reading people and he basically put Kid back in line here, but he did it only because Law complained. That's because in their alliance Law and Luffy always has each other's backs, and Luffy proves it yet again, not leaving Law alone with this.

So actually Luffy's reaction of "How does that even matter?!" is very justified, because it's literally the first time ever that Law complained about "following orders" to him. And he figured out the reason fast: it was because of Kid's presence.

Now let's dig into one more thing. Kid clearly plays with the idea that Law and Luffy are so close that they seem like they're in one crew. But the way he phrases it is very offensive: he suggests Law is Luffy's subordinate, just like Law was once a subordinate to Doflamingo (again, not bringing up any fond memories here). Meanwhile Law tries to make a point: they're equal, no one is above the other. Luffy actually also minds the "subordinate" part as we can see from his "WHAT" reaction there. He doesn't like the term subordinate nor the term scrub either. For Luffy, his crew are his friends, they're equal most of the time (the only time Luffy actually uses his right as the captain is when he chooses which island to visit or who to fight), they sleep in one room, they do chores all together, damn, his crew can even punish Luffy if he does something stupid that endangers them! Luffy's crewmates are definitely not his subordinates, not in Luffy's eyes at the very least. Is Kid just mean here by calling them "subordinates" or does he actually think of his own crew as subordinates and that's why he uses that word here? Who knows, Kid likes to be full of shit, so maybe he said it knowing exactly well what effect his teasing will have. But he is right about one thing: Law and Luffy in Wano really work together like they're one crew.

Last important thing: Law is a captain and he learned long time ago from Wolf (his father figure he respected a lot, who gifted him the submarine): captain has the image to uphold and responsibility over his crew. Law has his own crew, Heart Pirates, and he doesn't want to be seen as incompetent person who can't even make his own decisions. It's about not losing his face in front of others, something that is important to him, and he commented on it as well in Dressrosa when he said he will at least take care of Trebol. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to face his own crew, feeling like he failed them. His crew holds him in very high regard and he doesn't want to disappoint them, despite the fact he probably isn't sure if he can always meet their expectations.

Yet he tries his best to cooperate with Kid and proposes him a temporary alliance. He dislikes him, he doesn't want to look bad around him, but also he wants the chance to show off/not lose face as well, not leaving everything up to Luffy. But he will remain super petty in his "alliance" with Kid. For example, he won't be talking to him on same eye level, like he does with Luffy. His body language really betrays his feelings towards other people.

Now, you might ask, but why does Law dislike Kid so much? Law doesn't really act nice to strangers in general. Luffy is basically an exception and even then he's almost never cheesy with his words (not counting his big declaration in Dressrosa), instead showing his appreciation of Luffy in not so obvious actions.

But there might be a particular reason why Law is so salty towards Kid in particular. Kid didn't exactly leave a good impression on Law in Sabaody. Not only he talked about him behind his back (and Law could hear that), he also accused him of bad manners. Rewind to Vergo always trying to chastise Law about the exact same thing. Kid voicing it out must have left a really bad aftertaste, so bad that Kid is literally one of the only two people Law flipped off his finger at. Kinda tragicomic, because I think Kid thought he's saying a compliment (he seemed to have a respect for him), but it was completely misunderstood. It might take those two a hundred years to finally talk it out heh.

That's my best shot at analyzing it. Summing it up, Law doesn't like to feel controlled (all thanks to Doflamingo betraying his trust), he's afraid to lose his face in front of his own crew, he doesn't want to be used as a tool (he's fine supporting others in battle, but he wants his own liberty with that and wants others to trust him to make the right judgements), and he also simply hates being ordered around by Kid for a number of complex reasons. Also there's this running theme with Law and his ope-ope fruit and it's ultimate technique. People basically treat Law like disposable goods because of it: only good for performing the operation, even at the cost of Law's own life. All things considered I think it's not so strange that Law gets really nitpicky with any attempt even close to objectifying him, even if people don't mean it that way. On the contrary, every time he doesn't act this way, he shows how much trust he has in his allies or even how willing he is to ignore his own feelings as long as people close to him are fine.

I hope you enjoyed reading about it, anon!

[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.

[lawchwan]

love alphabet (sanji)

summary: just another alphabet for our favorite perverted romantic chef

disclaimer: there are some spoilers of skypiea and Whole Cake Island in some alphabets so be warn with that. and obviously some alphabets have nsfw content. Also some alphabets have fem terms, which was not my intention, i’ll edit them once i have the free time.

crossposted on ao3

A = Affection (PDA, what sort of affection they give)

You are talking to the king of PDA. If you’re someone who cannot handle pda, then you need to start handling it with Sanji. He loves to be hands-on with you, literally, declaring to the entire world how much you mean to him. This man just outright loves you, and he’s not shy of showcasing it.

Bonus: he loves to be extra in front of Zoro, just to rub it in his face, only to get a groan and an eye roll of disgust from him (and the entire straw hats really, even Luffy couldn’t stand it)

B = Babies (Anything you want about babies)

“Oh, you want babies? Say less, ma’am, I’ll throw all the condoms and contraceptives away. When and where and I’ll give it to you” he says, with heart eyes and nosebleed as you mentioned in passing about babies.

In all seriousness, Sanji does have a soft spot for kids. He is a very gentle man and often really caring towards kids. If you remember at the end of enies lobby, the way he handled Chimney with such care after her exclaiming about how hungry she is how I imagined he’d be with his own kid, and maybe even extra doting and caring. Also chopper and Sanji’s interaction during skypiea… I don’t think I need to add more… (Although Chopper is 17 years old/was 15 during skypiea, it still applies)

C = Cuddles (How they cuddle or are cuddled)

Oh that man loves to cuddle. He may not be the most fleshy, he does however have the warmth that can counteract as a blanket and that’s enough of you. He, like law in my previous love alphabet, loves to be the small spoon, except he is more open about and doesn’t care about one says about it.

D = Darling  (Pet names) 

He’ll throw in any affectionate nicknames that he could think of at the top of his head and will say it with no shame. But I do think he’s the type to say “darling,” “my love,” “my sweet,” and “angel.”

He also has more pet names/nicknames in the bedroom and calls you goddess/god and mommy/daddy. He one time slipped up and called you mommy/daddy in front of Zoro, and Zoro mocked him for all eternity until you confronted him… : )

E = Enamored (how hard do they fall when in love)

It's Sanji we’re talking about… this man will lay his eyes on any woman and he’ll fall head over heels. But when it comes to you, there’s a slightly subtle change. While he still maintains his chivalry and flirtatious act, he does put in extra effort with you. If he makes Nami and Robin a parfait, then you’ll get extra toppings and flavors of your liking. Honestly, their food—still being better than how he would serve his male crew—would start looking underwhelming next to yours, but it's not that they’re complaining. Matter of fact, they, mainly Nami, thank you for having reciprocal feelings since Sanji hasn’t been going at either woman.   

F = Firsts (A first on anything you pick)

The first time Sanji cooked for you was special. You were sitting in the kitchen, alone with him, as you happened to catch a case of “midnight hunger,” and there he was, a handsome cook cleaning the dishes as he hums to himself. When you made your presence known, the blond man turned with his usual charismatic smile and turned the sink before doing so.

“hey, (y/n) darling, what are you doing here?”

He seemed genuinely to be ecstatic to see you in the kitchen, even though it was god-awful late at night, he didn’t seem bothered for some reason. You were about to mention how hungry you were, until the grumble of your stomach spoke for you, only for you to look away, flustered. Sanji simply chuckled as he stated sweetly, “I guess I know why…”

And there you were, as much as you didn’t want to wear him out, he was very insistent and ended up cooking up something upon your request. You just sat there, ogling at the cook as he worked his magic. You stare at his hands, veins popping up handsomely due to the force he is exerting, whether through cutting vegetables or holding onto the sizzling pan, as you place your head onto your hand. You didn’t say much to not distract him, but, man oh man, was he attractive just cooking for you.

“oh, how I wish those hands were on me…” you thought to yourself as you began analyzing his physique with your eyes wandering from his blond locks to his tiny yet built waist, down to his thick ass. Your head was heading to perverted places where you might need a quick shower afterward.

He seemed to have noticed that you were staring at him, so as he finished with his finishing touch, he began declaring, “Voila!”  as he handed you the dish. You were brought back to reality after he spoke up, and you looked down at your dish.

“Oh, wow does that look good,” you say, softly yet excitedly. He just shrugged and hummed with a confident smile before handing your utensils. As you had your first bite, you closed your eyes as you moaned in glee; you truly never doubted him when it came to food because that was perhaps the most delicious dish you ever had. He simply just looked at you admirably, as he mimicked your look towards him when you saw him cook, even down to the head-on-chin position.

Once you were done, you sighed and let out a phew due to your fullness. “How’d you like it?” Sanji spoke up with a smile as he took your plate.

“That was amazing, Sanji… Thank you so much,” You say with gratitude as you hold his face with one hand, and he leaned against it. He mirrored you, only this time he leaned in before he wiped the corner of your lips the remaining sauce while he maintained eye contact.

“Missed a spot,” he whispered to you before licking his finger, winking, and taking the plate to the sink. He then had his back to you with a smirk while you looked at him in awe.

God, does this man drive you crazy…

G = Good Morning (How do they wake you up)

You best believe that you’ll be getting your morning kisses daily from him. If he wakes up before you, he’ll just lift himself and stare at you with love sparkle all over his blue eyes, he’ll probably even run his fingernail against your skin before kissing you awake. He’ll paint that beautiful smile as he says with his gentle morning voice, “Good morning, sunshine.”

That’s on his lazy days though, other days, however, he might just wake you up with breakfast in bed. He’ll set aside the tray before he gently shakes you until you wake up and informs you that he made you breakfast.

He is such a romantic, it warms one’s cold heart.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs?)

His hugs are so warm… I don’t know what else to add. He just adds a layer of comfort to him, just like his cuddles.

I = In Labor (Labour and Delivery)

He’s an absolute mess and honestly, you might have considered kicking him out during delivery. It’s not that he’s a dick about it or whatever—matter of fact, poor dude’s just trying to help—, but he’s acting like he’s the one giving birth due to his nervousness and is making you feel worse about the situation. If he wasn’t your love and/or the father of your child, you’d have kicked him out and had Zoro or Robin fill the role for support (you’ve thought of Nami as well, but she’d probably be squeamish and leave the room).

And once that child’s out, he’ll probably cry at the sight of your beautiful creation and kiss you on the top of your head while he praises you and compliments the beautiful bundle of joy.

“You did it… You’re so amazing,”

J = Jealousy (Are they jealous? How do they handle it?)

And the winner of the most hypocritical individual award goes to; Blackleg Sanji. You might have to beat him for it, because how the fuck is he allowed to flirt with other women, yet he beats men whom you’ve given the same energy?

All jokes aside, this man will probably glare at the person who’s attempting to get closer to you. He’ll probably start causing chaos if anyone were to lay a hand on his partner and he doesn’t care, he’ll stop when the one who gets the beat down promises he won’t look at you again.

K = Kisses (How do they kiss? How often?)

You finally understood the addiction to nicotine when you first pressed your lips against his. No matter a peck or a full-on passionate, his lips were simply addicting and you just crave them every time you look at him. He places a cigarette on his lips, and you envy the tip of the cigarette for it is covered by his lips when it should be your skin that is covered by his lips.

He kisses you very often, maybe a little bit too often, disgustingly often. But he’ll tone it down if you ask, and he’ll give you kisses throughout the day, he can never leave a day with no kisses for you.

L = Loyal (How loyal are they?)

Contrary to popular belief—and the jokes I’ve been making earlier—, Sanji’s pretty loyal. Sure, he may flirt with multiple women, which is a bad habit, but he never thought of sleeping with them now that he’s with you. He mainly claims it as just acts of chivalry, but truly he never intends on coming off as overtly flirtatious nor does he have any intentions of cheating on you, and he will always find a way to prove it.

M = Memory (Their favourite memory about you?)

The first time you declared your love for him. Underneath that charismatic aura, Sanji’s a broken man who believes that love is not by his side. Sure, he is aware that he has platonic, or rather familial love from the straw hat crew, Zeff, and the workers at Baratie, but he never would have thought that he’d find genuine romantic love and he was on his journey of accepting that.

Until you came along and ruined it, and Sanji couldn’t have been more grateful that you did. When you two happened to be kissing each other after an intimate session, you held him and uttered those three words, only for him to be gasping and widen his eyes in astonishment.

“What?”

You looked at him with a loving smile and holding onto his delicate face, “I love you, Sanji…”

You made Sanji’s heart flutter as he looked at you with glossy eyes and he laid on your chest and you began stroking his locks. You didn’t want him to respond if he didn’t want to, you simply just wanted to let him know, only for you to hear a whisper,

“I love you too…”

N = Never! (Dealbreakers)

Never mention his biological father, and don’t you ever try to reunite them. Sanji considers Zeff as his real dad, he taught and treated him like a father would to his son, so if you’d reunite them, he’d be over the moon. Reunite him with Judge and Sanji will feel betrayed that you would put him in a room with his abuser.

No amount of “but you guys are family” will cut it.

O = On the Rocks (How do they make up?)

Sanji’s the type to apologize through meals. He’ll obviously talk to you, but no matter how mad he is/you are, he’ll not leave you hungry. You two will start apologizing to each other and admit your mistakes. The one thing you love about Sanji is that he respects you too much for you to be upset, even if you’re in the wrong.

So you’ll simply just talk it out and kiss afterward… which may lead to more action if you get my drift.

P = Playtime (Any headcanons on sex)

Sanji loves to call you goddess/god, no matter if he’s domming or subbing. He just loves the thought of worshipping you and gliding his tongue all over his skin.

He also enjoys giving you oral or fingering you, doesn’t matter where you guys are, he’ll always find a way to have a taste of you, claiming “It’s the best flavor I’ve ever tried.”

Q = Quiet Time (How do they wind down?)

The perfect wind-down for Sanji is simply cuddling in bed or cooking alone with you. Sure, it may seem very cliché, but Sanji’s a cliché man and he knows it, especially when you call him out on it, but he doesn’t care.

What better way to spend some quiet time than when you have your partner with you, am I right?

R = Rapture (What makes them happy?)

When you value him and remind him how loved and important he is. Given his childhood, it is easy for him to slip through the mindset of self-loathing and ending himself, which resulted in his sacrificial personality. While you were never a cure for it, you did help him ease through those tough times, and he grew to appreciate you for your effort and how you don’t perceive the way others do.

Your overall love and appreciation for him means so much to him, thus resulting in making him happy.

S = Soulmate (What do they think of soulmates?)

Oh, he hands down believes in soulmates. First off, he’s a Pisces, and every Pisces I’ve met believes in soulmates. Secondly, he is a romantic at heart, soul, and body so he believes that there’s someone out there that will complete his soul.

T = Together (What do you like to do together?)

Cooking, of course, and also shopping. This man will go broke for you and he’ll be happy to go into debt for you, as long as you are happy and content, please, by all means, make his pockets hurt (but you won't because you love him too much to ever go through that).

U = Unyielding (How do they handle interlopers on the relationship?)

Sanji will karate kick them on their way out. “How dare you to try to meddle in OUR perfect. Beautiful, loving relationship?! Who gave you the absolute right to try and take my sweet partner away?! I’ll beat you to a pulp!” Sanji would exclaim as he proceeded to ambush the person who tried to interlope.

V = Vulnerable (Are they vulnerable often? How do they handle it?)

Sanji would not be as vulnerable as you’d think when you first met. Sure, he’s very emotional in tune and can hold you days on end when you just want to cry out about whatever’s bothering you, past or present.

Just like Law, once he gains trust, that’s when the floodgates are open and he starts becoming vulnerable and talking about his trauma. Please hug him and promise you won’t throw him under the bus with all of that, he needs emotional support and love.

W = Wedding (Wedding headcanons)

He’ll make sure he’ll make your wedding a day you won’t ever forget. I imagine your guys’ wedding being extravagant yet still intimate, inviting only the straw hat crew—yes including Zoro—, Vivi, Zeff, and most of his workers of Baratie from his end. He made sure you had some cake testing before the wedding and was mostly in charge of the catering, despite it being his wedding day.

Despite you were the bride, Sanji was more of a bridezilla than you were, and you had your fair share of freak outs, but not to the extend of Sanji’s to which you had to calm him down. Eventually, however, everything was settled—thanks to you and the rest of the straw hat—and you had a beautiful wedding by the beach.

(idk he seems like someone who would want a beach wedding.)

X = (E)x (How do they handle exes? What do they do if they see them)

He’d act the same with interlopers when it comes to your ex, especially if that ex had done unimaginable heinous things to you.

Meanwhile, his exes might have to run away because otherwise, he’ll start acting “too friendly,” and may slip up a few details about their previous relationship, which results in you being insecure.

He eventually apologizes, genuinely avoids his ex, and never interacts with them.

Y = Yearning (What do they do when they miss you?)

Another pillow sniffer and clothes (panties) stealer. Yup, that’s it, nothing else to add there. Just read my law’s one and just switch law with Sanji and you’ll get the same effect.

While he’s always snatching your pillows and clothes when you’re away, whenever he’s in the kitchen, he’ll even cook your favorite food to remind him of you. Even though he cooked it himself, he can’t help but be reminded of you and your sparkling eyes of joy when you see him cook your favorite meal.

NSFW

 He loves your enthusiasm so damn much, and God does he crave to see it again, especially when you have that similar sparkle when he undresses in front of you and showcases his pink-tipped cock to you.

Where were those panties when he needed them?

Z = Zzz… (Sleeping headcanons)

He loves it when you guys are in spooning positions. While he prefers being the small spoon, he loves to wrap himself around you with your chest on his. The feeling of you being snug beside him makes him feel like he can protect you and there’s no better feeling than that.

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

[matthewtkachuk]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

[maviscat123]

Anatomy II

By: JohnBoy

Someone was pounding on the door...

Big Jim Reese woke up with a snort; he'd been having a late afternoon nap on the cot in his office. His "office" was actually a small trailer, parked amongst some trees near the back of the construction site.

Jim sat up groggily -- he coughed and slowly ran a large, beefy hand over the stubble on his shaved head. The pounding came again, more urgent this time.

"Hey, Mr. Reese! You in there?" It sounded like a young guy.

"Yeah, yeah," he spoke in his deep baritone, "hold on a sec." The huge black man got up and opened the door.

It was Ken, the son of the crane-operator. He was tall and rather well-built, about 20 or so, sandy blond and blue-eyed, and with a tuft of bristly beard on the end of his chin.

Jim had noticed (on the four or five other occasions that he'd met him) that he always acted a bit shy and nervous around him. Probably, he guessed, because he was intimidated by his size: Jim was a half-foot taller than him, and probably out- weighed the kid by at least 130 pounds (a good deal of it was solid muscle, too).

"Hey Kenny, what're you doin' here?"

"Is-- is my Dad here?"

"Nope, he's gone home already." Jim yawned; he thought the young man looked even more nervous than usual. "Uh, everything okay?"

Ken glanced over his shoulder. "The cops are after me, man."

"What?" Jim looked towards the street; he could see a police cruiser pulling up in front of the site. He'd heard that this boy had been in trouble with the law in the past: B&E, some minor theft...

"I need a place to hide. Please, you gotta let me in!"

Jim sighed. He wanted nothing to do with this kid's problems. But an idea was starting to form in his head... and before he even realized it, he said, "Okay, get in." Ken was peeking out through the blinds, watching the cop. Jim had not asked him what kind of trouble he was in this time, and the kid hadn't told him...

"What's he doing?" Jim asked.

"He's just talking to one of the workers. Wait-- shit, the guy's pointing this way!"

Kenny looked around the trailer. "Fuck, if I get caught this time, I'm going to jail for sure. You can't let him find me!"

"If he wants to look in here, I don't think I can really stop him."

"But... there's no place to hide in here! What am I gonna do?"

"Well," he said slowly, trying to sound nonchalant, "I got a suggestion."

"What??"

"How much you weigh, Kenny?"

"Wha--? Uh, about 190, I guess. Why?"

Jim tugged thoughtfully at his wiry, dark goatee. This young man was a fair bit bigger than the doctor had been. He wondered, could he do it?

"You can hide... in here." Jim pointed to his stomach.

"Huh?"

"I could swallow you."

Ken just stared at him.

Jim went on, "Just for awhile. I could swallow you whole and hide you inside my belly, just 'til the cop leaves. Don't worry, you'll be safe. If he comes up here lookin' for you, well... there's no way he'd find ya. Then when he's gone, I'll let you out."

Ken continued to stare at him.

"Well? What do you think?"

"Oh come on... this is a joke, right?"

"No, I mean it. I'm serious."

"You're crazy, Mr. Reese. You can't swallow a whole person. It's-- it's frickin' impossible!!"

"Well, yeah, for most people. But I'm different; there's somethin' special about my anatomy that lets me do it. Big mouth, big throat, big stomach... just ask my doctor. Trust me, I can do it." Jim knew this might not be completely true... after all, when he'd done it before (three days earlier), Doctor Moffat had given him some kind of injection as well. Whether he could do it now, without the drug, remained to be seen.

Ken still seemed unconvinced. He looked out the window again, anxiously.

"Well, we're runnin' outta time, son," Jim said, "Do you wanna try it or not?"

"But... you'll let me back out, right?"

"Yeah, sure, of course I will."

The kid shrugged. "What the hell, I guess I got no choice. Okay."

"Damn right!" Jim tried to suppress his excitement. Ever since the doctor's appointment, he'd been thinking of little else but swallowing someone again -- and now he had his chance!! Of course he intended to release the boy afterwards...

but he thought, maybe he could try to keep him inside for awhile? Say, ten minutes or so? Would he survive in there that long??

"Er, what should I do...?"

The big man went to the tiny fridge and pulled out a stick of butter. "Take off all yer clothes and rub this on you."

Ken's face screwed up. "What are you gonna do, fry me up first?"

"It's to make you slide down easy. Come on. And take that earring off, too." Jim looked through the blinds. "You better hurry up, son. I think the cop is comin' this way," he lied.

Kenny started to undress. Jim took off his own shirt, undid the button on his jeans, and unzipped his fly part-way. He saw Ken looking at him as he did this, and said, "Gotta make room for ya." He patted his belly. "You're a big boy."

The young man was completely nude now. After hesitating for a moment, he picked up the stick of butter and began to rub it over his chest. "It's cold!"

"Don't worry, you'll get nice and warmed up once you're inside me." Jim realized that he was starting to salivate. His stomach began to grumble and groan in anticipation, and he wondered if Kenny could hear it...

After the boy had buttered himself up, Jim ordered him to lie down on the cot, on his back. He dropped to his knees heavily at the foot of the cot and grabbed him firmly by the ankles, lifting his feet up. He hoped the hunger in his face wasn't too obvious. Now Jim could see a hint of fear in Ken's expression, and realized he'd have to work fast and get it done with before he changed his mind. (And just in case the policeman came around, too!)

He said in a reassuring tone, "It's okay, kid. I promise it won't hurt a bit. I've done this before." He grinned. Then he crouched down and opened his mouth very, very wide...

"Shit, man," Ken mumbled.

With a grunt, Jim quickly thrust both feet into his mouth and part-way down his throat -- Ken giggled despite his fear, squirming around as if he was being tickled. Jim grasped his legs more tightly and pushed again, taking him in almost to the knees with a thick, slurping sound.

"Holy cow, I can't believe you're doing that!" the boy said in amazement. "Hey, wait, I just thought of something... will I even be able to breathe in there?"

Jim tried to nod (which wasn't easy), and gulped again, taking his legs in even further. He couldn't believe how fantastic this felt... the kid was delicious! He'd be moaning with pleasure if his throat hadn't been so full. He wished he could slow down and enjoy every inch of Kenny's smooth, firm, sweet flesh as it slipped inside him, but there wasn't enough time -- besides, he was too ravenous!

Ken's face turned pale as he watched the huge man's mouth working to take him in, gobbling him up, the lips stretching around his hips and ass now. "Goddamn..." he whispered.

Jim's eyes were starting to roll over white with the effort. He continued to swallow, while at the same time holding Ken by his upper arms and shoving him in. Then he guided his hands into his mouth, gaping even wider to engulf the boy's muscular torso and arms. He could feel his legs starting to fold up inside his belly.

"Uhh, Mr. Reese?"

He ignored him. He couldn't believe the power of his throat muscles; it seemed they were working on auto-pilot, flexing and gulping almost on their own, practically sucking the kid down his gullet... it felt so natural. He realized there was no question now as to whether or not he needed drugs to do this.

But the most difficult part was coming: Kenny's wide shoulders...

Ken seemed to be having a bit of trouble breathing with the pressure on his chest. His eyes were starting to bug out, and there was an incredulous expression on his face; Jim imagined that he must've looked quite bizarre right now, with his mouth stetched out to grotesque proportions.

This was starting to get harder, and the sensation of fullness was unbelievable. Perhaps the boy was too big? Had he bitten off more than he could chew, so to speak?

The young man blurted, "I-- I'm not sure about this anymore. Wait..." He began to struggle feebly, but his arms were pinned to his sides, inside Jim's throat.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the trailer door. A voice called out, "Anyone in there?"

Jim's heart lunged. Shit, it was the cop! He looked Ken in the face, wondering what his reaction would be. Would he scream for help??

A moment of silence passed... then Ken seemed to make his decision: "Uh," he cleared his throat, and tried to talk in a deeper voice, "Yes, officer? I mean, who is it?"

Jim would've smiled if he could. He continued to swallow -- but now it felt like the kid was almost stuck!

"Jim Reese? I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

"Uhh... okay, er, gimme a minute," Ken said.

Jim reached out, clamped onto Ken's shoulders and began forcefully shoving him in with all his strength, swallowing hard.

The door handle rattled. "Please open up, it's the police."

"Just-- just let me get some pants on! Oh, Christ..." Kenny gasped.

Now only his head still protruded from the man's mouth. Jim pushed on the crown of his head with both hands, and he continued to slide in... he could feel the kid's little beard scraping against the roof of his mouth.

In a muffled voice, he heard him say, "Jeez, it smells like hamburgers in here..."

And then he closed his mouth completely over him and gulped hugely. He felt the boy going all the way down, filling his gut...

The cop was knocking again, impatiently. "Sir, will you open the door??"

Jim was gasping for air. "Yeah, yeah," he managed to say. He could feel Ken squirming around inside him -- it seemed like he was trying to turn around. He gulped down several large mouthfuls of air so the kid could breathe. Then he got up with a loud grunt, steadying himself against the wall. The weight in his gut was incredible; he was having some difficulty just standing up!

He quickly kicked Ken's clothes and shoes under the cot, then unlocked the door.

The police officer looking up at him was on the short side, but quite burly. He had a thick, brown, brush-like moustache and a buzzcut. He was carrying his cap under one arm.

Almost immediately, his eyes went to Jim's enormous, round globe of a belly, and his jaw dropped slightly. But then he tried to compose himself and looked Jim in the face, saying in a firm voice, "Is there a problem?"

"Uh, no-- sorry I took so long, officer. I was... I had to put some clothes on." Jim tried to laugh.

The cop looked at him suspiciously. "I thought I heard someone else in here."

"Nope, just me. I was having a little snooze."

"Well... I'm Officer Banks. May I come in? I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Oh, sure." Jim backed up to allow the guy to enter.

"So you're the foreman on this site, Mr. Reese?" The cop couldn't seem to help himself; he kept glancing down at Jim's gut. Jim was nervous... for some reason, Ken was struggling a bit inside him, and he hoped it wouldn't be visible from the outside. Was the boy uncomfortable?

"Yes."

The policeman looked slowly around the interior of the trailer. He said, "You know a young man named Kenneth Delaney?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's one of the employees' kids."

"Have you seen him today?"

Jim's stomach gurgled audibly. "Ah, no. Haven't seen him."

"You sure? One of your workmen seems to think he came up here. He's in a bit of trouble, I'm afraid."

"Sorry, I was sleeping. I didn't see anyone." From Jim's belly came a small moan; Jim thumped a hand to his gut and uttered a short, loud burp. "Ooof... 'scuse me, officer!"

Banks couldn't seem to contain himself any longer -- chuckling, he poked Jim in the belly and said, "I'm sorry, but... man! That is some huge gut you've got there, buddy." He shook his head. "You got a horse in there, or what?"

"Aw, no, it's just fat. And... I had a big lunch today, too." Jim smiled broadly.

"Never seen anything like that. Damn! Sorry, I hope I haven't embarassed you."

"That's alright, I know I could stand to lose 'bout 200 pounds. So, umm... what's the boy done?"

"I can't really tell you that." The cop took another quick look around the trailer. "Well, you just keep an eye out for him, okay?"

"Okay, sure thing."

"Thanks for your time. You take care, sir." He left.

Jim could feel a massive belch building up, trying to escape. He sat down on the cot with a groan. Ken was wriggling around more now, and he could hear him trying to say something -- obviously, he wanted to be released.

Now that the policeman was gone Jim could relax, and really savour the experience of having a whole, live person inside his stomach. It felt great, even better than with the doctor... he'd never had such an enjoyable and satisfying meal in his life!

And now he was starting to realize something else: he didn't want to let the boy back out after all. He knew he had to; he'd surely suffocate in there before long and besides, he thought he could feel his digestive juices starting to flow. Just awhile longer, he thought...

The kid moaned again from inside his gut. His struggles seemed to be weakening.

Mm-mmm... he'd sure been a tasty morsel. He felt so full... and yet he thought that he could probably take someone even a little bigger than Kenny, next time. Jim rubbed his belly, opened his mouth wide and heaved out a huge, long, thun- derous belch. He was about to gulp down some fresh air for the boy, but then stopped himself.

With a sigh, he stretched out onto his back instead. I guess this was my plan all along, he thought to himself. Wasn't it? He didn't know if he could actually digest such an incredible amount of food...

but he supposed there was only one way to find out.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 18: i'm anything but tame

"Don't tell me it's not fair. Believe me, I've been there. Bittersweet my renegade and I'm anything but tame. Oh, I hate to tell you this way. VIllians aren't born, darlin' we're made."  -Villians Aren't Born (They're Made) by PEGGY

Regent masterlist Mundane Macabre Part 17 AO3

Council of Uncaged Birds group chat [User Pharaoh has changed group name to Summon the Fraid Council] Summon the Fraid Council group chat Pharaoh-Tech: Phantom giw left AP InfiniteStarPrince: but thats good??? Queen_Regent: Where did they go? 

Dame_Asphodel: Phar tracked them far as NJ but the green says they are close to you.  Pharaoh-Tech: did some digging the bomb = not giw InfiniteStarPrince: yeah no gross ecto Queen_Regent: too subtle, not the usual guns blazing style.  InfiniteStarPrince: Oh.  Dame_Asphodel: Why Regent then? Queen_Regent: Who knows Phantom and I outside our night lives? Pharaoh-Tech: will dig more oracle tried 2 hack me Queen_Regent: Did you make contact? Dame_Asphodel: isnt Oracle a bat ally? Pharaoh-Tech: probably back hacked some files theres a file on Regent InfiniteStarPrince: why would BBB not have 1 on her??? Dame_Asphodel: BBB? Queen_Regent: Big Bad Bat. Batman. InfiniteStarPrince: yeah why wouldnt he have 1 on a meta Queen_Regent: he thinks is one Pharaoh-Tech: it has UR REAL NAMEE Queen_Regent:  I told him. InfiniteStarPrince: yeah, R let me know Dame_Asphodel: why? Pharaoh-Tech: u kidding i worried for nothing?!?! Queen_Regent: I’m dating Red Hood Dame_Asphodel: What happened to Jason? InfiniteStarPrince: him too Pharaoh-Tech: wat???? InfiniteStarPrince: R met his family 2 Pharaoh-Tech: hol up !?!?!?! u tellin me RH = JT?? Queen_Regent: Can’t confirm or deny Pharaoh-Tech: imma lay down head hurts Dame_Asphodel: That does make me think R Queen_Regent: that one of RH’s enemies tried to kill two birds with one bomb InfiniteStarPrince: oh snap plot twist Dame_Asphodel: who though?  Queen_Regent: RH is a crime lord Dame_Asphodel: who took on black mask Queen_Regent: I don’t want to do anything without proof

InfiniteStarPrince: black mask? Dame_Asphodel: crime lord got ass kicked by RH literally has a black mask as a face InfiniteStarPrince: so looking for one (1) ugly bastard Queen_Regent: evidence first. can’t execute mortal with zero InfiniteStarPrince: realm laws suck Dame_Asphodel: yet you’re still gonna be king sucks to suck Queen_Regent: For now i’ll ask RH for info he’s mad about the bomb worried I couldve been hurt InfiniteStarPrince: gross Dame_Asphodel: and after? Queen_Regent: well we’ll cross that bridge when we get there Dame_Asphodel:  I think you mean burn it Queen_Regent: whatever comes first

GothicDame and JazzHands chat

GothicDame: does he treat you well? JazzHands: very 

GothicDame: good always need more fertilizer JazzHands: Never change

If she was anyone else, Ellie walking through Jason’s apartment door with a dirty shovel over her shoulder while whistling a jaunty tune would have raised some concerns for the older Nightingale. Jazz decided to settle for fond exasperation over annoyance at her little sister’s literal (albeit forewarned) shovel talk, even though the aforementioned shovel was suspiciously covered in bloody dirt. 

However, any annoyance died and went to the realms when Ellie stood face to chest with Jason, one hand on her hip, shovel still over her shoulder and gave him a once-over. A four-foot-six teen standing off against her six-foot even boyfriend should not be allowed to be so comedic. 

“So, you’re the-“

“Red Hood.” 

“I was gonna say undead weenie, but that works too I guess.” 

It was just so ridiculous that Jazz couldn’t help but laugh at the two. Jason and Ellie spared her confused looks at her laughter, but didn’t comment as Danny entered the apartment as well, only he had an ecto smoothie in one hand and a bucket of popcorn in the other. The future Ghost King didn’t seem all that concerned about the scene he walked into, only pausing long enough to ask-

“Did I miss anything?” 

[I'm so glad to post a new part to the Regent! If you weren't aware, this also now lives on AO3.]

[sophies-junkyard]

NOBODY ASKED but… Obviously Simon’s arc in adventure time solidified the series as one of greatest of all time (and I’m so hyped for this ice king sadness renaissance) but now I’m thinking of OTHER Adventure Time moments that rewired my brain as a kid. In no particular order:

1. “Once the strong guys got it how they liked it they said ‘this is fair now. This is the law.’ Once they were winning they changed the rules”. They really had the cartoon dog say that on tv in 2014.

2. “People get built different. We don’t have to understand it, we just gotta respect it”

3. The entirety of All The Little People. That shit was absolutely nuts for a kids show but also like…. I can’t articulate the lesson I just know there was one and it haunted me. The danger of the human ego. Hubris. Irreverence. Don’t play god bro.

4. Lady and Peebles. When PB ripped Ricardio’s leg off and bashed his skull in with it. And it was so hardcore they edited it out of the episode. Bro. I remember watching that after school one day and how my jaw just DROPPED at a PRINCESS being so brutal. They let her be so fucking angry and that was a game changer.

5. [Finn, about a horrific memory] “that one’s going in the vault. Aaaaaaaaaandd. It’s gone.” I quote that CONSTANTLY. It’s a great way to bring levity to a bad situation, but also forces me to go “hey wait a sec that’s not gonna work forever”. Things don’t stay in the vault.

6. Puhoy. He lived an entire life in that pillow world. He had kids. And then it’s just gone like a dream.

7. The deer. It was probably my first real introduction to horror. The hand wiggle. You all know exactly what I’m referencing. Were the candy people stuck in that well for 6 months???

8. What Was Missing!! Obviously now because it foreshadowed (and confirmed past) Bubbline, but back then just because it was so good??? IMO, this is the episode that defined WHO our main cast was, and how their relationships needed to grow for them to be content. It set up the next 6 years of the show! Plus it gave us 2 absolute BANGERS. Ugh i rewatched that recording so many times it wasn’t even funny.

9. Ghost Princess. Really just for the line where he sounds like he’s gonna shit his pants remembering his death and then in a clear narrator voice he’s like “I was a broken man.”

10. The pajama war episode. Now I’m doing this from memory so I could be wrong, but I think this really marks the start of Finn growing up. “I’ve really enjoyed just… hanging out with you.” The ability to start over with someone you’ve got complicated history with. The kindness. The growth from both of them!! It’s a direct parallel of episode 1 but their tones couldn’t be more different and I love it.

11. The slow and horrifying realization that The Mushroom War was nuclear Armageddon. Mushroom clouds. That went so far over my head as a kid even though they reference it constantly. It finally clicked during “I remember you”. Which I am NOT gonna go into because holy fuck that’s like 18 posts on its own.

12. Goliad! A child mirroring EVERYTHING they see, for better or worse. Seeing Jake in a bad moment screaming at the kids and goliad absorbing that behavior. Seeing she can use fear to control people. Also PB was Fucking Crazy! Her line “I’m not gonna live forever… I would if I could” is even more unhinged when we learn (like years later) that she’s already 900 years old. But she does physically age so I guess there’s that. The Suitor also falls into this category of episodes.

Ok getting into some of the more talked about moments

1. OK I LIED I have to talk about I remember you. I was 11 years old. I turned on the new adventure time episode like usual. 10 minutes later I was grappling with a grief I had never imagined before. Absolutely BAWLING not just for Simon and Marceline (the PLOT), but for what it showed me. The reality that every kid tries not to think about: your loved ones will leave you someday, even if they don’t want to. It’s an episode that becomes more powerful with every year I get older. To get a bit personal, dementia has completely taken my grandparents from me. I’ve seen sides of my grandfather that should never have existed, and I must constantly forgive him for what he does… now that he doesn’t remember me. And someday it’ll be my parents. That’s just the way of the world, ya know? Anyways, I remember my mom got home right as the credits were rolling and we had a long talk about keeping people alive with memory, mortality, and how the future was far away and we should decide on dinner lmao.

2. The Hall of Egress. I was almost 15. Life was changing. I was changing, and it was strange and frightening. That feeling where you know you’re losing your childhood but you just want to cling to it. Follow the same old familiar path, stick with what’s comfortable. But life doesn’t work that way. It took me years to really understand this episode and it’s symbolism. Honestly I still don’t think I could fully explain it. It’s like. How do I put this. I was so glad to be in the target age group in that moment. I was so glad that something I was growing up with was assuring me “you’re changing, but we’re changing too”. And isn’t that the theme of adventure time? Everything stays, but it still changes.

3. The absolute horror of Ferns existence. He’s Finn, but he’s wrong and warped. All those memories of the people he loves and they can’t stand to be in the same room as him.

4. Susan Strong. The introduction of a RUNNING PLOT. The show up to that point had really been so goofy and so monster of the week. I think the only really plot heavy episode before this one was It Came From the Nightosphere? And then suddenly they call into question the fact that Finn really is the ONLY HUMAN in all of OOO. And then… is he? It was SUCH a departure from the usual tone. Ending that episode with him reaching below her hat and gasping in shock, but never telling the audience what he found. And then she’s just gone. Which leads us to Islands!

5. Min and Marty. Second saddest episode in the entirety of adventure time, made worse because you know exactly how this family is gonna end up. There’s SO MUCH to dissect about Martins behavior in the series. A reformed con artist receives a traumatic brain injury while attempting to save his son. They’re both lost at sea, and he never looks for him. Was it the emotional trauma? Was it the physical damage? Meanwhile a mother loses her husband and her child in a single night and never EVER learns why. Nobody but Martin knows what happened that night. Also Finns fear of the ocean from season 1 is finally explained. 7 years of ignoring Finns origins and then they throw you THIS??? Watching it live was unreal.

Anyways I’m sure I’ll think of more. I might add on to this later for my own sake lmao, but I’d love to hear other peoples formative moments, quotes, episodes, etc. I really just needed to dump this information out of my brain so I can get on with my week.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#367

“That’s it?  That’s all you have to say?  Seriously?  You call me in on my day off.  I cancel my afternoon with my Marine buddies at the lake.  Ok fine, I’ll catch up with them later.  I drive twenty minutes to get here.  There’s hardly anybody else around.  I come over and you want to talk about landscaping this back region, something that could have waited until Monday?  Really?  I thought considering what happened yesterday that you would be asking to give me a blowjob or something….

“…Oh for fuck’s sake!  Do not fucking pretend that you and I weren’t at Ruby’s bookstore yesterday at the same time.  You and I were in the last two booths on opposite sides of a good sized glory hole.  You sucked my dick for fifteen minutes, edging me a couple times.  You whispered, ‘Let me lick your ass.’  You did just that when I turned and offered my crack for your tongue.  Then I flooded your mouth with my usual massive load.  Now do you remember?

“Good.  You can knock this coy shit off.  You called me to come in, brought me to the back part of the property where no one ever goes, in hopes of doing what?  Did you think that we would play strip parchesi?

“I get it.  You want me to do this, to take the initiative.  You want me to ask for a blow job?  You don’t have the balls to ask yourself. 

“For fuck’s sake.  There’s no need for me to ask you.  You are a fucking cock hound.  Yeah, you may have a wife, three kids in a ten-bedroom house on twenty-four acres, with a detached five-car garage with a two bedroom mother-in-law suite above it, a vacation home in the Virgin Islands, a mid-seven-figure job, and yet you drive half an hour to the nasty industrial part of town to suck rank blue collar dick at a glory hole at Ruby’s bookstore.

“The thing is that you clearly have been doing it for a long time.  That wasn’t a casual blow job you gave me.  You knew how to manage my fat sausage, like an expert.  Your tongue never stopped hitting my sensitive spot.  You throated me with a mild struggle, but you didn’t give up.  And then, you knew how to read my cock to sense when I was getting close in order to edge me properly.

“So how long have you been sucking dick?...  Junior high?  Wow.  Let me guess.  It was some blue-collar factory worker.  Probably some big and beefy guy like me.  Was it?... Thought so.

“Henry, the guy working the front counter who I have known for years—fucked him a few times—told me that you are a regular, and you pay him a hundred bucks to direct the big guys your way.  That’s kinda bold.  Hell, that’s how I wound up at your hole.

“I’m surprised I didn’t pick up your sperm burping vibes until now.  When I came out of the booth yesterday, you threw open your door to see whose dick you had been sucking.  Once we made eye contact, your face went from curious, to excited, and finally to panicked all in one second.  You bolted out of there so fast.

“So here we are….  …Faggot?  What do you want to do?  Your silence is not going to get you my dick in your mouth.  You want my dick?  Tell me….

“…No, no, no.  I know if I were to whip my cock out that you would be on your knees throating me down in no time flat.  No, I am asking do you want my dick in your life?… To rule your life?

“Good.  What about my ass?  Your tongue liked the sweaty musk.  You must be an ass eater too.  You want to worship my shithole too?...

“Cunt, I better start hearing some ‘Sir’s’ after the yes’s and no’s you give.  You understand?...

“That’s better.  I have been using men for my own thing for decades.  You ain’t the first closeted faggot I have come across.  I have worked this situation before.

“Look I work for you whenever anyone else is around, but when we are alone together, I own you.  I’m Sir to you, and you will be Cunt or Faggot.  I will be calling the shots here.  We’ll work out more later. 

“When was the last time you had a man use your cunt?...  That long?  You may not be a virgin, but you will offer the same tightness.  Get naked….

“…You don’t do anal?  I don’t care.  You need to be cunted.  You’re gonna be cunted.  Naked. Now!...  Cunt, I expect you to do what I say, without hesitation.  That’s better. 

“You need to realize that I fully know how to work with a closet case.  Yeah, we are here on a Saturday, when none of my guys are here, we are in the back of your property where no one goes, and most importantly Sarah’s SUV is gone.  Considering you are back here about to be cunted, it’s safe to say that she has the kids.  How long is she gone?... 

“All day?  Well hot damn!  Walk with me.  No, leave your clothes there.  You need to be exposed for a bit….  In the middle of the field here. 

“On your knees.  Your goal is to put as much throat slime as you can on my dick.  That’s the only lube I’m going to use.  Reach up, unzip me, and take it out.  Balls too.

“This is the cock that is going to rule you.  I don’t care how many other dicks you suck, my dick is the one at the center of your universe.  Suck.

“Ahh,… That’s the tongue I remember.  Mmmm.  This is the kind of a blowjob I like at the end of a hard day.  One that I can unwind with.  That’s why I stopped at Ruby’s last night.  But today, I’m in control.  Hands behind you and keep them there.  All the way down to the root.  All… the… way… down! 

“When I put my hand on your head, I’m in control of the blowjob.  You dedicate that airway to me.  Gag motherfucker.  Gagging only puts more throat lube on my dick.  I’m going to give you a minute to really lube me up.

“…Struggle with that fat cock.  I would have expected a more experienced deeper throat.  We’ll get that trained right.  Blowjobs when the man is in control are a lot different, hunh?

“…Ok turn around.  On your knees….  Don’t worry while we are out in the open, no one is here.  Knees spread.  Shoulders on the ground.  Arms at your side.  Palms by your knees and face up. 

“This is how to present a cunt for a cunting.  And what a pretty pussy it is.  So pretty, that I think you earned an extra glob of spit.  There.

“Scream fucker.  I always go right to the root.  No fucking countdown.  No time to accommodate.  Oh, fuck you are tight.  Man.  This cunt is mine now.  I decide what to do with it.  We are going to have some fun. 

“You like blue collar men?  Cunt, I am going to whore you out to some nasty big brutes.  I know places where cunts are used and tossed aside.  There are a few rest stops on the interstate, some truck stop with old school showers, there’s even a mechanic shop I know with a nasty bathroom around back.  I can’t wait to transform this cunt a perpetual sloppy mess. 

“Remember I told you I was going to the lake with my Marine buds?  We are all hard-working men who enjoy using cunt fags.  That’s why we go to the lake, to use them hard.  If you think you can get away from the family for an overnight, we’ll go up there later today.

“Oh there you go.  Now keep that cunt relaxed.  Tightness is hot in the beginning, but ultimately, I like it sloppy.  Oh man.  I’m getting close.  Fucking close.  This cunt was made for my dick.  Here it cums!  Here it fucking cums!  Ahhhh!  Ahhhh!

“Goddamn.  Cunt, you may give great blowjobs, but this cunt is gold.

“When I pull out, your mouth will move to clean me up.  If you want to jack off while doing it, go for it. 

“…Oh look, there’s a little blood mixed in with my load.  A tiny skid mark.  It all goes in your mouth….  Fuck!  Does that feel good. 

“Ok Cunt.  This is what’s going to happen.  I will rule your cunt, your dick, your mouth, basically you.  I don’t care if you still go to Ruby’s to suck on more blue collar dick.  I’m not that kind of possessive.  But when I want your holes, I want them now.  I understand there is the wife thing.  I can work around that. 

“I want to know all details of all the loads you take.  If you spend an afternoon at the glory holes, I want to know how many cocks did you suck, and how many loads did you swallow.  You’ll have a tracker on your phone so I know where you are at all times. 

“Getting away to service me is going to require some changes from you.  The one that pops into mind is get Sarah’s goddamned yoga studio out from over the garage.  I’m going to move in there.  It makes sense to have me on grounds in general, but now I will have a room nearby for my cock to enjoy some nearby cunt.

“I will also accept a raise.  If I’m going to be fucking you, it will cost extra.  Yeah that makes me a whore, but I’m fine with that. 

“Now we get to the part of the conversation where you realize just how much you are owned by me.  You know Ruby’s has hidden cameras throughout their booths?  No?  Not many are aware.  Henry showed me a few very clear videos of you going to town on some rather big dicks.  I have copies on my phone….

“No, no, keep cleaning the mess you left on my cock.  I can show the videos to you later.  My buds at the lake will definitely appreciate seeing them.  You know, having it on my phone, I can show them to anyone.

“If you think that our relationship is going to be all fucking and sucking, I’ve only just begun.  I keep telling you that I own you; I really do fucking own you.

“OMG are you cumming?...  Fuck yeah!...  You are a sick faggot!”

[allthingsfangirl101]

The Munson Twins – Steve Harrington

Steve's POV

The Munsons were always a strange pair of twins. For one thing, they were polar opposites of each other. Eddie was into weird role-playing games. Y/N was into volleyball. Eddie is in danger of repeating his senior year. Y/N graduated early. Eddie is into rock and roll. Y/N plays the classical violin and the piano. Eddie loves black leather jackets. Y/N likes flowery sun dresses. Eddie is kind of a loner. Y/N is more popular than me.

Since Y/N graduated early, we spent our senior year in some of the same classes. That being said, we barely spoke to each other. The most we ever talked was congratulating each other after one of us won a game. All through high school, Y/N and I ran in the same social circles because of our sports so we often went to the same parties. Just because we went to the same parties doesn't mean we were friends.

Not to say I didn't wish we were friends. I've gone to most of Y/N's games and she's gone to most of mine. Whenever I looked in the stands and saw her, I became more self-conscious of my playing. I even went to her orchestra concerts. I usually sat in the back and left before anyone noticed I was there.

Throughout high school, I couldn't get Y/N Munson out of my head. It seemed like everywhere I looked, she was there. Even when I was dating Nancy, my mind often wondered to Y/N when I was alone.

When Vecna started killing teens and Eddie was blamed, my thoughts focused even more on Y/N. I wanted to talk to her about all of this, to make sure she knew her brother wasn't what the town thought, but I also didn't want her involved in any of this shit.

I had to force Y/N to the back of my mind as we tried to help Eddie. When we got stuck in the UpsideDown, I allowed my mind to go back to her, hoping she was safe back in Hawkins. We were walking to Nancy's house and I kept glancing at Eddie. If he knew that my thoughts were constantly on his twin sister, he'd kill me.

"Eddie," I said, clearing my throat as I caught up to him. "Hey, man. Um, listen I just umm. . . I just want to say thanks. For saving my ass back there."

"Shit," he laughed. "You saved your own ass, man. I mean that was a real Ozzy move back there."

"Ozzy?"

"When you took a bite out of that bat," he tried to clarify. "Ozzy Osbourne. Black Sabbath. He bit a bat's head off on stage. You really don't know who that is?"

"No," I chuckled. "Sorry."

"Well, anyway, it was very metal, what you did, is all I'm saying."

"Thanks," I sighed.

"Henderson told me you were a badass," he continued. "Insisted on the matter, in fact."

"Wait, Henderson said that?"

"Oh yeah. Shit. That kid worships you, dude. Like, you have no idea. It's kind of annoying, to be honest. I don't even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, but I guess I got a little jealous." Eddie sighed before continuing, "I guess I couldn't handle the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. Rich parents. Popular. Chicks love him. And not a douche? No way. It goes against all the laws of the universe and my own personal Munson Doctrine. Then again, that's worth shit because even my sister talks highly of you."

"Y/N talks highly of me?" I tried, and failed, not to stutter.

I looked over to see Eddie smirking at me. He leaned in a little too close and whispered, "Very highly of you."

"Okay," I said awkwardly as I used my elbow to push him away from me. I cleared my throat and rolled my shoulders back.

"All jokes aside," Eddie said, "my sister does think highly of you, dude. Whenever people would start to talk shit about you, she'd instantly stand up for you. I never understood it, but she's always talked about how people should give you a chance. She believes that there is more to you than meets the eye."

"She really thinks that?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Hell yeah," he laughed.

"I guess I always thought. . . I mean, everyone else saw me as a dick. I figured she did too."

"Nope," he teased. "She always sees the good in people. It's extremely annoying."

Eddie walked away, but my mind was going a hundred miles an hour. I thought over the few, very few, interactions I've ever had with Y/N. We walked a few more miles, the others talking amongst each other while I walked behind the group.

"Alright," Eddie sighed as he joined me. "Enough of this. You've been in your head since I mentioned Y/N. What's the. . ."

He didn't finish his thought. Instead, he turned toward me with a smirk on his face.

"Ohhhhh," he elongated. "I get it now."

He playfully pushed me before continuing to walk through the woods.

"Wait," I called out as I chased after him. "You get what?"

"Come on, Harrington," Eddie sighed. "Please tell me I don't have to be the one to point this out to you."

"Point what out?"

"You have a thing for my sister."

"What?" I scoffed. "I don't. . . Why would you. . . That's so. . . No."

"No?" Eddie teased. "You sure about that?"

"I mean. . . That would be. . . Crazy."

"No, it wouldn't," he said simply. He saw the look on my face and sighed. "Look, Harrington, as much as I may not understand it, Y/N's right. You're a good guy. You'd be an even better guy if you'd grow a pair and tell my sister how you felt about her."

"What if she doesn't feel the same?" I asked before I could realize how weird it was to have this conversation with Y/N's twin brother.

"She does."

My heart jumped into my throat at those two words. Eddie didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. He sent me a wink before jogging and catching up with the others.

"She does," I repeated under my breath. "Holy shit. She feels the same."

* * * * *

Three months later, Hawkins was barely rebuilding. After Eddie's death, there were two people I was worried about; Dustin and Y/N. Dustin was doing what he normally does - pretending to be okay so no one would worry about him. I checked in on him almost every day. He was getting better, especially since Max was improving.

Y/N, on the other hand, barely leaves her uncle's trailer. Every single one of us has tried to visit her, but her uncle keeps telling us she doesn't want any visitors. Y/N won't even talk to the kids.

"Hi, Steve," Eddie and Y/N's uncle sighed when he opened the door.

"Hi, Mr. Munson," I greeted. "Is Y/N here?"

He sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Look," he sighed, "I really appreciate all you kids have been trying to do for Y/N, but I think it might be best if you give her some space."

"But. . ."

"I'm sorry, Steve," he continued. "I'll let her know you stopped by."

My heart sank as he closed the door. I couldn't get myself to move as I heard Y/N's uncle saying something to her. I couldn't quite hear what he was saying but I forced myself to leave. I turned around and slowly started walking back to my car. As I drove home, I racked my brain trying to figure out what I could do for Y/N.

Just when I had lost all hope, I noticed someone pulled over to the side of the road. As I got closer, I recognized the driver as Y/N. She was looking at her engine.

I didn't hesitate to pull over. I got out of my car and started walking toward her.

"Need a hand?" I called out. I instantly cringed when she jumped. "It's just me, Y/N."

"Sorry," she stuttered.

"It's okay," I tried to say lightly. "So, you need any help?"

"This stupid thing won't start," she grumbled. "And I have no idea why. Eddie usually. . ."

My heart sank when she stopped talking. One look at her and I could see the tears building.

"He usually handled the car," she forced herself to continue as she cleared her throat.

"I could take a look," I shrugged. She looked up at me, her eyes softening.

"Really?"

"Of course."

I walked over to the front of her car and examined the engine. The longer I stared at it, the more Y/N giggled. She was laughing at me, but I didn't care. At least she was laughing.

"You don't know anything about cars, do you, Steve?" 

"That obvious?" I chuckled as I turned toward her.

"Little bit," she said, showing me how much with her fingers. She cleared her throat and wrapped her arms around herself.

"I could still help," I said quickly.

"How?" Y/N asked, her voice softening.

"I could give you a ride," I offered.

"Steve. . ."

"I don't mind," I said quickly. "I can take you home or wherever you were on your way to."

"You don't have to," she said quickly. 

"I don't mind," I tried again.

"I can call my uncle."

"Come on, Y/N. Let me help you."

She looked up at me and held my gaze. "Are you sure?" She asked, her voice soft.

"Of course," I shrugged. I held my hand out, not entirely expecting her to take it. When she did, my heart jumped into my throat. Ignoring the circus in my stomach, I led her over to my car. She smiled as I opened the door and held it for her.

"Thanks," she said as she got in. I took a shaky breath as I walked around and got in the driver's seat. I started driving to the trailer park, my nerves jumping all over the place.

"So," I cleared my throat, "how have you been doing?"

"Fine," she shrugged, looking out the window.

"Are you. . ."

"Please don't, Steve," she cut me off. She looked over at me and I could see the tears building.

I nodded before turning my attention back to the road. We went through the rest of the drive in silence. I wanted to talk to her but I wasn't sure how to start a conversation with her. Before I would've liked, we pulled in front of her uncle's trailer.

"Thanks for driving me, Steve," she said softly.

"Y/N, wait," I said as I grabbed her hand before she could get out of my car. When she looked at me, I forgot what I was going to say.

"Steve," she said softly when I didn't continue.

"I just wanted to say," I said slowly, "if you ever need anything, the group and I are here for you."

"Thanks," she said, clearing her throat. She started to get out but realized that I was still holding her hand.

"There's something else," I forced myself to say. I looked into her eyes and gathered all the courage I could before saying, "I'm sorry about Eddie."

She turned away from me but right before she did, I could see the tears building. With the hand I wasn't holding, she covered her mouth. My heart sank when I realized she was hiding her tears.

"Y/N," I whispered. I pulled on her hand and she let me bring her into my chest. As I wrapped my arms around her, she sobbed into my chest.

"I wish we could've done something," I whispered. I pulled out of our embrace and held her shoulders as I looked deeply into her eyes. "I wasn't able to keep your brother safe, but that doesn't mean I can't keep you safe."

"Steve," she said under her breath.

"I promise, Y/N, I will always be here for you," I said. "If you ever need anything, and I mean anything, all you have to do is call me. Day or night."

"Day or night?" She teased. "That's a little creepy, Steve."

"I didn't mean it like that," I stuttered. "I just meant that if you needed me, I'd. . ."

Y/N cut me off by leaning over and pressing her lips to mine. I didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss. I gently grabbed her face as our lips moved against each other. When we were both out of breath, we broke the kiss and leaned our foreheads against each other.

"You know," she whispered, "there is something you could do for me."

"Anything," I said instantly.

"I'm starving," she started. I smiled when she didn't continue.

"Y/N," I said softly. "Can I take you to dinner?"

I smirked as I leaned in and kissed her again. I felt her smile as our lips moved in sync. I broke the kiss and pressed my nose to hers.

"If it's not too much trouble," she whispered.

"Not at all."

[therapycat21]

All Right Now Part 7

Travis Kelce x Famous!Reader Description: The reader catches the eye of famous footballer Travis.

Warnings: None

Social Media AU

Travis p.o.v

It has been a few months now since y/n posted the photo and It has been nothing but amazing It feels like we just met yesterday but in reality, I realized it has been eleven months close to one year.

It has never been this way for me, every time I had gotten into a relationship it always felt like I was waiting for the inevitable, always knowing something was gonna happen that led to the breakup, or you know the usual, them going to the press and telling lies after the breakup trying to get me to look bad.

But ever since y/n and I have been together I would always stop and see if that feeling is there but it never shows, only pure adoration and love for her.

And of course, I told Jason that and you can already guess what the topic of conversation is right now where I sit in the office talking to Jason over video and filming a new episode of New Heights.

“So how has been with y/n so far?” he tries to throw it out there nonchalantly. I can already tell I’m blushing as I smile at him “Uh you know, we have been very good, just living life together and enjoying what we have.” I try to tell him without giving away any information. “Oh come on trav!” He says flinging his hands up, all I give is a laugh before Jason changes the subject to talking about the plot of Twilight, I tune him out a little bit as a joke until I see I have a few unread messages from y/n, I can hear Jason trying to get my attention but all I see are y/n’s messages asking if I’m busy still and if she can come bring me lunch from the other room.

“TRAVIS!!TRAVIS!!” I finally look up from my phone smirking “Sorry, very Important message I needed to respond to.” 

That is all I say to him, he gives me a look “Is it my awesome sister-in-law that is messaging you?” he smirks, thinking he got me all I reply with is “Yep” before I hear a small knock and the door slightly open. I look behind me to see my angel  “Is it okay for me to come in?” she whispers, I smile before trying to wave her in “Come on in baby” I tell her. 

She walks in with a small tray “Oh oh what is this?” I ask taking the tray and looking at it, she smiles “I made tamales with some horchata” she replies smiling. I look back in the camera and show Jason the tray “look at this!” I smile big. I see Jason look at the tray in shock and mock envy “oh my god, What I would do to be there right now, wait hold on where is she?, I gotta ask her a question”

I look over to where y/n stands by the desk, still off camera, I see the nervous all over her face as I wave her over “come on baby” As she finally comes closer to me I subtly grab her waist ushering her partially onto my lap.

 I give her a second pair of headphone “hey Jason” she smiles at him “hey girly, Was all of that homemade?, cause if so, kylie said we are all coming over for dinner” he says matter-of-factly. We both laugh and I see y/n now has a blush casing her cheeks “yes, it is all homemade, It is my grandmom’s recipe” I tell him “you guys can come over whenever you want I will gladly cook dinner and see the babies” She replies before getting up slowly “Okay I’m gonna go, I have to film some stuff for the documentary ” She leans down giving me quick emotional kiss before waving by to Jason before softly shutting the door behind her.

“Can I just say, you two are very whipped for each other, she has made you homemade food from her home country and you have reluctantly adopted a cat, that is wild to me.” He laughs smirking at me.

I blush a little underneath his knowing gaze “Look, like the kids say nowadays, the cat distribution system has chosen me and I can’t not accept it, once pasta showed up on the front porch I just had to take her” I explained laughing.

Jason gives me a confused look asking about what the distribution system is, we sit there for thirty minutes with me explaining it to him.

3 Hours later

As we finally finish up the episode and we say goodbye to each other, I head out to see y/n laying on the couch with pasta laying on her lap as she is scrolling on tiktok, I walk over and jump into the empty space next to her gaining the attention of pasta, she stretches before walking over to lay on me and fall back asleep. 

I look up over at y/n to see her already looking at me. She breaks the silence “do you know we have been together for about a year now?” she says. I give her a small soft smile “Yeah, it feels like yesterday I was trying to get the nerve to talk to you without stuttering.” I smirk.

She laughs reaching over to run her hand over my head before she turns a little more serious “I know we’ve had this talk before a few months ago but I just wanted to check in again and see if you still want that future?” she asks. I’ve told her before I’ve wanted to get married and have children sooner rather than later. I nod my head at her “I still do baby” I reassure her. But I can tell there is still something on her mind “With me?” she questions lowly.

I stare at her in a small shock, I always thought she knew I wanted that with her but I guess I haven't done my job right if she is questioning this. I grasp her hand in mine before looking into her eyes with the most seriousness I can muster up.” I love you with everything I have and I can’t wait to marry you and make a family with you, you just let me know when”.

All there is genuine shock on her face as she tries to mentally understand the last part of my sentence. “Let you know when?” He nods smiling big “you let me know when, and I’ll be there baby” All she can do is nod before moving to cuddle into where I am on the couch.

We are relaxing on the couch now watching a baking show she found randomly when I feel her stare from where she lays on me. I look down in question to see nothing but love in her eyes when all of a sudden.

“When” 

That is all she says before turning back to the TV as if she didn't just shock me to my core. I never wanted to say anything to her for fear we were moving too fast, clearly, I’m not. All I can think about now is finally taking the velvet black box out of the safe.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Like my writing? Buy me a coffee. I would be so grateful!

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[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Punk Hazard (part 2)

We're still not done with the Punk Hazard! There's way too many interactions with them there and posts have apparently a restriction of 30 images, geez. Anyway, let's follow the tale further!

Law: Hey, I can hear that.

It's hilarious, because it turned out to be true in the end. Law wouldn't betray Luffy (as in backstab him), but he would finish the alliance early if that means keeping Luffy safe. But would it count as betrayal actually?

And then Luffy brags again. Wait, or doesn't he? It sounds kinda correct to me though lol. Also of course there's nothing to worry about, after all it will be Law's job from now on!

Law (thinking): Those people... how did they survive so long on their own?! They have no sense of danger!

Probably a moment later: Wait, so it will be my job to worry for them all the time?!

Law (thinking): It's nice of them to have brought the kids here, but they're pirates, I can't really expect Strawhats to actually want to help them, right? Damn, if I have to choose between keeping Mugiwara-ya safe and keeping the children safe, I guess the choice is only one to make...

Law (thinking): They actually want to help the children?... but why? They're not friends with them like with that fishman and mermaid on Sabaody... are they saying this just on a whim? Anyway, I can't lose the main goal from sight, keeping Mugiwara-ya safe is the priority.

To understand Law's odd reaction here we need to go back to his flashback:

Because when he told the nun and the children that he doesn't want to leave without Lammy, they just told him they will leave him behind on his own (but will return for him later on). That's why he expects that Nami wants to stay behind by herself. But Luffy's isn't having any of that, Luffy's like "no one is getting left behind on my watch". And no wonder really, because Luffy also knows how it's like. After all didn't Garp and Dragon leave him behind on his own as well, choosing to pursue their jobs instead? But Luffy does not want others to feel the same way he did.

Law's shocked "?!" there really says volumes. He probably didn't expect that option of "not leaving anyone behind" as even possible. We will see him struggling to accept it later on as well in this arc.

Law (thinking): Wait a second... How did that turn out this way?!

Because let's rewind a bit. Law's just reached his inner peace with the dificult decision that he's gonna sacrifice the children's fate in favour of keeping Strawhats safe. But here Luffy makes a 180 turn on him and tells him "Actually, we're saving the kids and there is this funny samurai as well, we also want to reassemble him". And Law is like TrafalgarLaw.exe stopped functioning, please reboot. He thought he made it clear this is not the time to be altruistic and has a difficult time to process this illogical conclusion. You were too lost in your own thoughts, that's why you missed it, Law.

Law (thinking): Friends?! What?! Whatever, put that thought aside for now, more importantly... those conditions for the alliance are ridiculous! Also it would totally be something I would want to do and make it a condition, if not for the fact I think it's impossible to pull that all off.

Usopp (thinking, surprised): Luffy was right, he's actually a good guy!

Luffy (thinking): I knew you would help us!

Law (thinking): You must be kidding me, what kind of pirates are so altruistic. Great, now I have even more troubles to deal with. And yet I can't refuse them.

Law (thinking): No, anything but this...!

I'm so sorry for him in this one, tbh. Can't make it look funny anymore, I'm sorry! (but if you really want to, then the classic "Am I a joke to you?" commentary is usually spot-on) At least it was Chopper and I think Law is okay with touching animals and minks.

Luffy (thinking): Torao, you come up with the best ideas! This sounds so fun!

Law (thinking): I'm actually not gonna allow you to rethink. You need to stick with me so I can keep you safe.

(my god Torao)

Luffy: No chance! Good luck getting rid of me now after you offered friendship to me!

(those two, I swear...)

Fun fact: he didn't, lol. Law trusted him with this, but Luffy told them all only after they boarded the Sunny lol. Ouch, Luffy!

Luffy's safety is constantly on his mind, isn't it... and he's taking the most work on himself as well. Also can you try to think of anything else for a change, Trafalgar Law?! I know you're super duper worried but, come on...

Yeah, I know Law, right? You try so hard to keep him safe, and he goes and does some ridiculous shit again. And so the neverending spiral of worrying and suffering because of it continues for Law, lol.

Luffy (thinking): I will make you proud, Torao! Just watch me kidnap that guy in a few secs!!

Robin (thinking): Luffy is so excited, not sure if it's because of the plan or that Trafalgar. Probably the latter, actually, he just ignored the plan after all...

He's adorable but omg, they miss the marks all the time when it comes to each other, don't they. It's pure romantic comedy!

The end result is to be expected haha. Law's eyes are like constantly on Luffy lol. At least Law's not so anxious and worried anymore, because fake cuffs are part of his backup plan, so things are going okay for now.

Luffy is instantly interested in Torao's connection to Joker. He just wants to know more about Law, circumenstances be damned, because who cares they're locked up, right.

Law (thinking): Really? You ask about it now?! Fine, whatever, I will tell you... it's not like I can hide it from you forever.

He's not really that great at lying to Luffy, is he? Unless he just sold him a half-truth, but it doesn't appear to be this way. Alliance is all about trust after all, right? (Law says that in Wano) And Law is a bit uncomfortable sharing his connection to Doflamingo, but he does it anyway.

Luffy is so easily impressed with Torao, and it makes it even funnier that it's for all the wrong things really lol. Though it's understandable because when Ace died he got a big hole in his chest and couldn't survive, so in Luffy's mind anyone who can actually live despite that might be like the strongest person ever in his mind (stronger than Ace even?!). It's ridiculous, cute and actually a bit touching. I doubt Law understood it right lol, he's just lying there in disgrace.

Law (thinking): You will pay for this! Especially for making me look so pathetic in front of Mugiwara-ya!

Also Luffy please stop staring at Law like this all the time and close your mouth. He's so infatuated with him.

Law's face here is kinda hilarious, listening to Robin's and Luffy's talk about Kinemon's legs. Is he thinking something like "Interesting, you like it that much? I could do it for you all the time actually... I can do so much more, in fact"

Please someone shut them up.

Change of tone. As soon as Luffy's so worried and stressed, Law becomes all serious and worried as well. You can't make this shit up.

Showing off in front of Luffy lol. You actually want him to think you're cool, don't you, Law?

Luffy: Omg you're so cool Torao! I thought we're goners fr!

And guess what, it's working like a charm. Oh, Luffy!

Luffy adoring Law again, his eyes are almost sparkling here :D he tries to show off a little as well there heh. It's like "Torao, I'm so impressed with you, so be impressed with me and my crew as well!!"

Law, when not ordering people around: "is there anyone in here who can do x or y?". He's really not used to this "equal alliance" thing either, isn't he? Because that's such an awkward thing to say. Is this first ever alliance for him as well? Perhaps all other arrangements he had was just Law giving people orders.

That would mean this is first alliance both for Luffy AND Law awww. Oda, stop, I'm cringing! There's no way Law did it just for Luffy, right?...

Law making Luffy laugh on purpose will never stop having a special place in my heart <3 because you know he said this just for that. He doesn't yet care much about the others, but he sure af cares for Luffy. Perhaps he joked a bit because he didn't want to see Luffy so anxious like before when worrying about his crew geezas stop.

Someone's showing off again and it works like a charm. Can you stop making it such a show ffs, Law. No you can't, you're just having too much fun seeing Luffy so obviously impressed.

I mean... anyone still doubting Law loves Luffy after this image would have to also doubt Law ever loved his little sister, you know?

Also he's really not very honest, is he. Still not gonna admit it openly, acting cold and keeping his distance, despite the fact Luffy is already holding a dear spot in his heart. I know Law has predisposition for being serious and secretive, like that's just legit part of his personality, but he also clearly doesn't want Luffy to know how he actually feels about him.

Damn, Punk Hazard is long. I wonder if I can finish it with the next post haha. To be continued!

[gatitties]

Hi 👋😊.

I just had this a idea for almost a whole  year and it about a young teen female Reader who have a father figure or mother figure from the pirate they like the most but~~ I want them to be the older version from the future like when they are at the age of 40 or 60 . ( Strawhat pirates & white beard pirates & kid pirates) 

And if you don't write about the whitebeard pirate's it okay .instead of it I would like it to be the heart pirates 😊♡.

Edited!\ take your time okay, love your writing by the way👋😊♡

─Strawhats, Heart Pirates, Kid pirates & Whitebeard Pirates x teen!fem!reader (Platonic)

─Summary: some headcannons with your mother/father figure and the rest of the crew

─Warnings: the characters are older, like in those 40/60 year old drawings (reference)

Well yes I write for whitebeard and as a bonus you will have all four crews, ty!! ;)

─ You're like the baby of the crew, no matter how strong or smart you are, for them it's like a duty to keep you safe even though you don't need it.

─ Luffy, Chopper and Usopp are your best allies when you get bored and want to play or play a joke on others, although they are not so young for their usual games they can always make a small exception for you.

─ As for family roles… Sanji was like a father to you, he was the most attentive to everything, he controlled that you had a balanced diet, that you hydrated, and he made sure that nothing and nobody could bother you or harm you, physically or mentally.

─ This cook already has an age and a past that makes him want to protect every possible child, and despite the fact that you were not a child, in his eyes it still seemed that you were 5 years old and not 13.

─ You called him 'dad' once by accident and he cried after you left the room.

─ Sometimes he just walks into your room to tell you something random "did you know that swordfish can swim up to 100 km/h? They are great hunters" and leaves without saying anything else, he doesn't even wait for you to answer, "Close the door!" of course he never closes the door after that.

─ You spend a lot of time in the kitchen and he teaches you to make your favorite dishes.

─ Despite being forty years old, the fights with Zoro won't stop, and he always puts you in the middle to give him support, "yellow looks much better" "green is better, it doesn't look like piss" "Of course not, honey, what do you think about this? Yellow is better isn't it?" "I guess?" "Ha! see, my little girl is always right marimo"

─ Franky and Brook are like the uncles who spoil you.

─ Now… if you're looking for who won to be your mother figure, the award went to Nami, despite not being as young as before and having lived more adventures, she will never stop being like a scared cat and tends to separate you from danger when she sees it.

─ She earned most of your affection pretty quickly.

─ Typical mother who makes you save as much as possible, she'll lend you her old clothes if still in good condition, "this shirt suits you better than it did when I was your age, you'll be a beautiful girl when you grow up!"

─ Although she doesn't mind pampering you a bit if she wants, it's practically difficult for her to deny you something if you really want it, overall, she can always put others in debt to get more money.

─ Lots of relaxing baths with her and Robin, you like to gossip about everything you see when you stay on an island for a while.

— Many moments of shopping together, it doesn't matter if you like it or not, she will simply drag you down because she needs the opinion of someone younger to stay "in fashion".

— She'll also teach you everything she knows about cartography and navigation.

— Father figure Law lives under stress, his night schedules are still as shattered as when he was young and now he has a teenager under his wing to care for.

─ He is very strict with everything, he wants you to maintain a healthy life so you will have many restrictions, ranging from not spending much time inside the submarine to correcting your posture when you're sitting wrong. "You look like a shrimp sitting like this, correct your posture or you'll have back pain" "You look like an emo in your forties and nobody says anything to you" "…"

─ He's worried because teenagers are so carefree and stupid sometimes, he'll have Bepo supervise when he can't.

─ You have many arguments with him for small things, but don't worry, if he punishes you Shachi and Penguin are the uncles who get you out of trouble.

─ This duet with you by their side only means one thing to Law and it's headache.

─ Whenever you're in a bad mood, the crew jokes that Law has infected you with his continual sulking disease, and that now you are like father and daughter.

─ Law is a proud dad inside of him, he won't show that he is proud of you out loud, but in his mind he has you as someone smarter than half the crew.

─ He will teach you everything he knows about medicine, unless you don't like it or are too squeamish about operating or dissecting, however you are required to learn everything about basic first aid.

─ Ikkaku is the only woman on the whole ship so she was the mother figure who helped you not go crazy among so many men and an adorable bear.

─ You're always welcome in the kitchen to help or observe, but mostly to gossip, sometimes Bepo joins.

─ She has small details with you, like buying some matching pendants or bracelets, she also likes to comb your hair with different styles, definitely your personal hairdresser.

─ Unlike Law, Ikkaku will always let you know that she's proud of you for any little thing, like if you've only managed to take down a few guys on your own without help and will yell in mid-battle "Well done, that's my girl!"

─ God bless you with this crew because you will not have a day off, just because they have aged doesn't mean that they are not as chaotic as before.

─ Although they will respect you, you are not in this crew for nothing, and also, all these guys are afraid of an angry teenager with little hours of sleep. "Dude, shut the fuck up if you don't want me to insert this knife as a new piercing in your forehead" "Yo… ok, chill kiddo"

─ The closest thing to a mother figure that you found was Heat, because he was the one who acted the most like a mother hen with you, apparently he was the most concerned about your physical integrity because he was at that age of wanting children and you were the closest to that.

─ It's not like he was depriving you of potentially lethal weapons for a teenager, but he was more afraid of what people would do with someone young like you.

─ Because being in this crew most of the time means fighting and going to clubs, so yeah, he always had an eye on you just in case some nasty person tried something weird with you.

─ Wire always took care to relax Heat when you'd rather just walk around the village than be in a bar because you weren't much of a fan of drinking alcohol at your age. "What if she gets kidnapped? She can be there all alone being scared" "She literally dismembered a guy last time we fought, she'll be fine."

─ Wire is the cool uncle who lets you do whatever you want as long as your worried mom doesn't find out.

─ And if we talk about a father figure… Killer, Killer acted like a responsible father most of the time, not as worried as Heat but always watching over you and above all that you didn't let yourself be influenced by some of Kid's stupidity.

─ Because Kid was like your demon on your shoulder, despite already being of an age, this man wouldn't stop being impulsive and you're an easy-to-influence teenager, so you and Kid have a sibling relationship.

─ Killer just watches the two of you while he looks disapprovingly, you can't even see his face and you already know that he is disappointed with your decisions. "You guys broke what? oh okay." a lot of passive-aggressiveness whenever he scolds you.

─ But he will always scold Kid more because he is of legal age and should be responsible, he definitely doesn't leave you alone with him because the last time you ended up drunk.

─ And despite not being of many words, he's like the presence you need by your side at certain times, someone you can turn to if something bothers you and that you know that he will be there for you.

─ Overprotective squad in general.

─ Everyone sees Whitebeard as a father, however in your eyes he is like your grandfather, because Marco had earned the position of father figure.

─ This man wanted to establish a life a few years ago, start a family etc, then one day you just arrived and he decided to take you under his wing, literally.

─ He is the least worried if you compare him with the men of the other crews, he knows that he has many people who protect you by his side, so he is calm in that aspect.

─ He will still scold you for your bad habits. "Eat slower you'll choke if you keep eating like a turkey" "Don't you have a nest to make or something? I know how to eat, I'm not Ace" "Hey!"

─ Ace may have matured a lot more but he'll still be a bad influence on you, so Marco always asks Izo to keep an eye on both of you, because the last time he left you two alone you ended up in the stomach of a sea king.

─ His chest will swell with pride if you call him 'dad' in front of people.

─ He's the kind of dad who tells all the shits that have happened to you and he embarrasses you in front of the crew just because he wanted to tell a funny anecdote about you, although he later apologizes to you if he really upset you.

─ As for a mother figure, this crew is short of such things, but the closest thing was Izo, because without a doubt, within this crew full of testosterone, he was much more elegant and careful than the others.

─ And more than anything because you could steal his makeup to use it, although you didn't know how to apply many of the things he had, he helped you with that. "Honey you're spreading the makeup wrong" "Can you teach me Izo?"

─ He taught you a lot about self defense in case someone bothers you more than necessary, like using guns, you should know how to protect yourself just in case.

─ Proud mom watching you kick ass.

[absolutebl]

This Week In BL - I’m pleased with what’s airing, but conflicted about what’s ended & getting started

Aug 2023 Wk 1

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Laws of Attraction (Sat iQIYI) 4 of 8 - Omg the way the bodyguard (handler?) looks at the rich kid. Gah. I see why @heretherebedork​ loves these 2. But I really hate him (not the handler, the kid). Fun fight scene.��I love lawyer babygirl SO MUCH. HE WILL BE MY 2023 FAV CHARACTER. I’M CALLING IT. This ep, Srs? You’re killing me. Suits! Pussycat bows! And then... The Public Claiming!!!!! One of my favorite tropes! And openly flirting? Boys. I’m getting spoiled. Wait… is that…? NO SINGING. Ah well, Thai BL giveth and Thai BL taketh away. 

Hidden Agenda that isn’t hidden (Sun GMMTV YouTube) ep 4 of 10 - I like the script for this. It feels like the conversations they have are very honest to a uni experience. It’s comfortable and breezy. I did not expect the kiss. Bit early in the arc. There is either going to be a lot of backend drama, or a long domestic honeymoon period. (Bet you can guess which one I vote for.) 

Low Frequency (Sat iQIYI) ep 5 of 8 - It’s moving along in a Ghost Host kinda way (minus the killer chemistry). I’m not mad about it, I don’t think I'll remember it tho. 

Be Mine Super Star (Mon Viki) ep 5 of 12 - My ambivalent relationship with this drama continues. Cohabitation trope. Punn is basically a huge puppy trying to spoil/cuddle/fuck his pretty kitty prince. It is what it is. Meanwhile, I just want more of Big Daddy & the Hot Doc. (Also the name of my burlesque show.) Why does Kevin have more chemistry with Ashi in a 1 min long scene than Punn has had… ever? Is this nascent bad boy effect or nascent 2nd lead syndrome I’m feeling? (Meanwhile Ben! Hi! Long time no see!) 

Be My Favorite (Fri YouTube) ep 11 of 12 - Whatever. Trash(ish) watch here. 

Dinosaur Love (Sun iQIYI) ep 6 of 8 eps - Aw pretty baby is unhappy his bf got injured. But also very blushing maiden. This is profoundly NOT GOOD. 

Wedding Plan (Weds YT & iQIYI) ep 3 of 7 - I have decided that Lom’s theme song is BigBang’s Monster. Listen. You’ll see what I mean. Also BigBang = also very problematic but banging. What I’m saying is, I wanna punch Lom so bad, I went slightly bonkers. Water sports are addressed. A trash watch is happening!

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Jun & Jun (Korea Thurs Viki) 3 of 8 - How DARE they make me love this show so much? I feel personally attacked. The smell thing! Gah. The way they automatically go informal in private. The flirting. The language. The suits, the EVERYTHING. It’s embarrassing how much I rewatch the final bits of each ep. 

Stay By My Side (Taiwan Fri Gaga) 6 of 10 eps - I adore this ridiculous show. (I just realized that the actor playing Jiang Chi played Ray’s evil 2-timing bf in About Youth). Baby boy is quite clueless. Sweet dreams tho. I love them both so much. The washing his jersey scene was so fucking cute. Couple’s numbers, couple’s keychains, bridal towel, kisses. Thank you Taiwan for NOT activating blushing maiden. However, confident gay/confused bisexual is a go. And we got us some justifiable angst. Sigh. I’m so happy. 

Sing My Crush AKA Follow The Wind (Korea Weds iQIYI) 1-2 of 8 eps - supposed to have released in the first half of 2022 this is a adaption of Myung’s webtoon, from the director of My Sweet Dear, and Love Tractor’s production house, basically Korea does About Youth. It’s sweet (the singing bits are easy to skip) and very much a story of young first love but less stiff than KBL’s usual high school fare (kinda Taiwan feeling). I like it but that very imprecision in production makes me concerned for an HEA, especially with such a low MDL rating. 

Tokyo in April is... AKA Shigatsu no Tokyo wa (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 8fin  - Rough final episode, but it does end happily. Fortunately, I had some warning for my personal triggers, but this is Japan and they did go dark. Full review below. 

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (Japan Thu Gaga) 5 of 12 eps - Shin is so cute and proud and boldly out. I love him. Movement in the relationship with both couples, even if it’s movement into arguments and misunderstanding. I suppose we got 12 eps they need to do... something.  

Stay Still (Hong Kong Tues YouTube) 1 of 5 eps - It’s confusing. And… not good? Some flashbacks some present day? 

It’s airing but ...

Stay With Me ... NO I WILL NOT! And you can’t make me.

Review: Tokyo in April is... AKA Shigatsu no Tokyo wa

I had to chew on this for a while but here’s where I ended up. 

Two young men with a shared tragic past reunite and fall in love all over again, but the past will not stop hunting them. Based on a manga, this office set reunion romance is GREAT… damn it. It’s Japan in full on soft focus which means it gets emo, abusive, and chewy. These two characters are giving parts of their souls away in a desperate attempt to shape themselves to the expectations they have of each other. 

Japan gave us the Bed Friends that Thailand could never even imagine. But here’s the thing: I don’t enjoy my BL this heavy and cutting. I know that for The 8th Sense crowd this is peak BL and I can’t argue with the fact that the romantic devotion, domesticity, script, and acting IS all on point. It’s just not my personal preference for that point to be so damn sharp. I appreciate that this being 2023 I have the luxury of consistent quality (especially from Japan) and thus the ability to say… 

I acknowledge that this SHOULD get a 9/10 but I can’t emotionally go higher than 8/10 

RECOMMENDED BUT KNOW WHAT KIND OF BL THIS IS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS LIKE CRAZY 

Japan = sticking to its lanes like their BL is on rails. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting: 

8/11 Love Class Season 2 (Korea Fri Viki) 10 eps 

8/12 My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho (Japan Sat Gaga) 8 eps 

Still Coming August 2023

8/19 Love in Translation (Thai Sat One31) ? eps - Two strangers start working in a cafe together.

8/19 I Feel You Linger in the Air (Thai Sat Gaga) 12 eps - The time travel historical romance many of us have been waiting for. 

8/20 My Universe series (Thai Sun iQIYI) 24 episodes - This is sampler pack BL, 12 pairs, each pair gets 2 eps, not sure on the order they’ll drop. Known couples include EarthBank from Destiny Seeker and KaownahTurbo from Love Stage!!!, mostly fresh faces otherwise. Jane to direct several.

8/22 Kisseki: Dear to Me formerly known as Miracle (Taiwan Tues ????) 13 eps - From screenwriter Lin Pei Yu (We Best Love, H3: Trapped) features a student doctor forced to take care of a gangster. I love the premise and like the writer, Viki or Gaga will get this one.  

8/24 Man Suang (Thailand movie, domestic cinema release) - historical drama about Thai burlesque with KP’s MileApo. Tong is in this one too?

8/? Why R U? (Korean remake) is supposed to be out this month, filming started in sept 22. I find everything about this hilarious. I mean if Korea remakes it, we lose all the sexy and then... would we have a story at all? No we would not. Not even for six short eps. It’d be like one of those mesh shopping bags.

Oh yeah, Only Friends is coming. 

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED)

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Hidden Agenda. I love them. 

Public claiming with the waist grab maneuver! A true hero. 

But I think we can all agree that THIS is the hero all love triangles deserve. (both Laws) 

(Last week) 

[crossdressingdeath]

You know, thinking about it, I was wrong before. Nico has more reason to trust Hades than Percy does Poseidon at the time of the incident in TLO!

If you think about it, Percy's only evidence that Nico should've known it was a trap is that "[Nico] know[s] what [Hades]'s like", but... Nico's view of Hades would be much different from Percy's. Remember, Nico has a room in the palace at this time; Hades couldn't send him to his room the way he does later if he didn't have a room to be sent to. He's been living there! Hades allows him to live there! At this point Nico doesn't know that Hades used to visit him, Maria and Bianca regularly or that he actively stepped in to protect Nico and Bianca from Zeus and keep them safe until the time of Titan's Curse, but he does know that Hades is letting him live in his palace. Gods don't do that. Percy has to nearly die to even get a brief visit to Poseidon's palace, and he very openly knows that Poseidon wouldn't have claimed him to begin with if he didn't need him. Not to mention Poseidon has that whole thing where he explicitly tells Percy he wishes he didn't exist, which... is the sort of thing that's gonna have a negative impact on how you view your dad.

So when Percy says that Nico knows what Hades is like, what he's saying is basically... "The Underworld is evil and Hades is evil, how could you not know that," which is kind of an incredibly shitty thing to say to the child of Hades living in the Underworld? I mean, it is kind of just "You shouldn't trust your father because I think he's evil and the Underworld is evil", if I was Nico I'd be very concerned about what Percy thought of me when he started spouting that shit. Anyway, while Hades is far from a good father at this point in the series Nico still knows him as the father who is letting him live in his palace because he has nowhere to go, stepping well outside the usual bounds of gods interacting with their kids in the process. Hell, unless I've forgotten something (possible), it's entirely possible that by this point in the timeline Hades has already told Nico about Camp Jupiter (which would show a huge amount of faith in him, again above and beyond any other godly parent). Hades can be kind of a dick because all gods are dicks to their kids, but Nico has no particular reason not to trust him! Especially given Nico has exactly zero other adults in his life offering him any support and at this point in the timeline he doesn't remember his mother, so Hades is basically all he's got and he has no points of comparison other than his also-a-child sister who kinda sorta abandoned him (not going into her reasoning here but it was A Thing that would probably influence the way Nico thought about... caregivers, I guess, for lack of a better term to describe the twelve year old put in charge of her little brother) and Minos (who is... Minos. Enough said). It makes sense that when Hades says "Do this small thing for me and I'll tell you about your mother" Nico believes him, because while Hades has been awful to Nico at times there's no evidence that he's ever lied to him. Why should Nico doubt his father who gave him a place to stay when he had nothing and no one just because that father happens to be Hades and the place to stay happens to be the Underworld?

...Also in hindsight knowing just how much Hades spoils Nico (for a godly parent at least) in the future makes the "You know what Hades is like" thing kind of hilarious. Ah yes, the guy who gives Nico a place to stay when he has nowhere to go despite gods Not Doing That, tells him at least some of the gods' most guarded secrets and essentially takes it on faith that he'll keep his mouth shut, lets him get away with breaking the law that the dead stay dead without even a slap on the wrist, promises him a place in the palace when he eventually dies (which may or may not imply that Hades intends to make Nico a god when he bites it, but it's certainly not normal procedure for Underworld kids), tells him to his face he deserves everything, and backs up that claim by fulfilling his wishes with no payment required or debt accrued just because Nico asked if Hades thinking he deserved everything meant he'd do so (because Nico is a little shit, we love to see it) despite Hades claiming that wasn't actually what he meant. Why would Nico trust that guy? (I know, I know, it's not proof of anything at this point because most of that hasn't happened yet. But it is funny how completely Percy's claim that Nico should distrust his dad is eventually proved wrong by Hades spoiling his kid rotten.)

[friesforfriday]

A real first kiss (Matt Murdock x F!Reader / College AU)

Summary: You tell Matt no one has ever kissed you out of love. He makes sure to correct that.

Wordcount: 2.5K ish

Warnings/Tags: No use of y/n, reader uses she/her pronouns (no physical descriptions aside from that), college AU, Matt and reader are both in law school, some angst, something that could be read as dissociation (reader feels disconnected to an experience), reader is not straight? (no sexual orientation specified but there's an interaction that is not heterosexual / only kissing tho), comfort at the end (bc I am a sucker for happy endings lol)

A/N: This was oddly personal, and while it’s a little short it was very therapeutic to write. Pretty much wanted to do something that related to being a late bloomer (like I have been my whole life) plus some fluff (: Please take into account that this wasn't proof read and that English isn't my first language; if you happen to see any mistakes, do let me know so I can fix them. Hope you enjoy this!

For most people, their first kiss was usually a memory of their early teenage years, maybe even a childhood one. You could recall the stories your friends have told you. For some it was born out of sunny days during summer camp where connections were born after swimming in a lake all afternoon, quickly followed by laughter scattered into open fields or forests between games of capture the flag. That turned into late-night conversations, sneaking out from each other’s cabin after curfew to meet under the starry sky. 

Or perhaps for some it started out as a hallway crush. The kind that you would reveal only to your closest friends, and you all hid under silly codenames. If you locked eyes during free period, it stirred up giggling. And guess what?It turned out they’d been watching you all along. After gathering all your courage, a study date would turn into something more once your knuckles brushed accidentally.

The list could go and on, their stories all very innocent and sweet, most likely a terrible kisses, but nevertheless worth remembering.

If you added to that all the romantic books you’d read, movies, and what not, there were plenty more stories you could think of, from childhood friends turned to high school sweethearts or plenty about games of truth or dare or spin the bottle. Reality or fiction, first kisses tended to be meaningless beyond their experience value, with the rare exception of those who actually found love through them.

Throughout the years, you had patiently waited for your turn. You didn’t have many expectations of how it would actually happen, you just held on for the moment to finally occur. How difficult could it be? It literally seemed to happen to everyone around you. So you just waited, surely things would flow naturally, right?

Middle school rolled by, which was fine. A lot of people need more time to grow into themselves, it would eventually happen, you were sure. Maybe it wasn’t going to be one of those awkward extended pecks that your friends said seemed to last forever. They insisted it was for the best, no one really knows what they’re doing when they still haven’t even fully hit puberty. If you had your first kiss a little later in life, there was a higher chance it wasn’t going to be completely awful. You could deal with that; high school was supposed to be a more exciting chance to expand your circle. 

Boy were you wrong.

By this point, it was possible that maybe you had watched too many rom-coms or read one too many romance novels. You’re sure now that it helped in no way to ease your expectations. Seriously how difficult could it be? You saw it all. Your best friends got into relationships, went on dates, celebrated anniversaries, and had their hearts broken, only to survive them and start all over again. Kids in your classes, the kind to never speak their minds, suddenly grew into themselves and found their people too. 

During lunchtime, couples sat next to each other, holding hands in the cafeteria. Field trips meant seeing impromptu make-out sessions in the back of the school bus. Your friends received proposals for homecoming and eventually proms; always happy to invite you to come along when you didn’t receive any. At the occasional party you did attend, corners turned into your safe spot as you watched as others were approached. Not once did anyone come to strike up a conversation, to casually sweep you off your feet. It only led you to wonder if you were doing something, anything, wrong.

Love seemed to be everywhere, just never in your life.

You’d be lying to say it didn’t hurt your self-esteem. How come it hadn’t happened to you? Were you really that unattractive or uninteresting or whatever it was for no one to be interested in you? Your friends, or anyone who found out, always assured you saying you weren’t the problem, but the evidence seemed to point elsewhere. 

You manages to endure a little longer. After your high school graduation, the prospect of college lifted you spirits. With all the people that attended such a big school, you’d be sure to meet new people or at least get your mind off it.

It was even worse. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the embarrassment inexperience brought upon you. At some point you just started to lie your way through games of never have I ever; because let’s face it, admitting to a dozen strangers that you’ve never even held hands romantically wasn’t how you pictured spending your Friday and Saturday evenings. And that wasn’t even the worst part. Opening bathroom doors to couples straight up fucking or having to leave your dorm when your roommate brought a date every other week made you feel majority behind.

After spending your freshman year sulking, you decided it had been enough. At this point, you knew you were a late bloomer, but c’mon, those “the right person will find you when you least expect it” pep talks were starting to feel like bullshit. For fucks sake, it didn’t even matter anymore if they actually liked you, you just wanted to get it over with.

Matters were taken into your own hands on a Saturday night. The crowded spaces did you no favors to appease your social anxiety. As you walked around, room after room was filled to the brim with strangers, your friends nowhere to be found. The floor of the frat house they had dragged you to remained particularly sticky everywhere you went, especially in the kitchen where you had stopped to refill the red plastic cup in your hands.

As you poured rum into your half full glass of coke, a familiar voice called your name from across the room, “Oh my God, is that really you?”

And so, greetings were exchanged, as well as short debriefings of what you’d been up to since graduating. For all the time you’d been at Columbia, that was the first time you’d run into someone from your hometown.

Soon enough you were sitting in a half-empty deck, laughing and reminiscing about middle school. The green eyes that looked at you weren’t full of love or lust, but had a strange tinge of nostalgia. If you were being honest, it was one of those old friendships that stood had faded into nothing more than an acquaintance, and you suddenly knew you had an opportunity laid at your feet.

In all honesty, you could’ve gone simply with catching up and then left to look for one of your friends. Looking at him, you recalled all the times you joked around in Literature class or the times his parents gave you a ride home before you inevitably grew apart in high school. There was no spark when your knees brushed in the small sofa you were sitting in; but there was no discomfort either, so against your better judgement you decided to go for it.

By all means, it was a good kiss, at least that’s how you remember it now. At the time, there wasn’t anything else to compare it to, but none of the complaints you’d heard before happened. There wasn’t any unnecessary clash of teeth, it didn’t feel like he was shoving his tongue down your throat, he kept his hands safely and softly cupping your cheeks and neck. According to all the standards of all of your friends, this was an A+ experience.

By the time you were heading back to your dorm, you found yourself finally able to check having your first kiss off your bucket list. A sudden feeling of pride ran through your body as you walked through campus. Finally.

Unfortunately, though, after you’d washed your face and were sharing the news over the phone with your best friend, you realized that while everything had seemingly gone smoothly, you still felt the odd knot inside your chest. Like nothing had really changed. It was hard to put into words, how your body had felt out of its own, like you were playing a character as your lips met his, or maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you. Because for some reason, you hadn’t really felt there when it happened. It just sort of seemed to occur.

“You’re kidding, right?” Matt’s said flat out, although you knew his deadpan tone was just for show.

Letting out a giggle you said, “Why would I lie about that?”

“That jerk was your first kiss?”

“He wasn’t a jerk, we were friends in mid-” you tried to defend the choices of you past self between bursts of laughter, but he didn’t let you continue. His sour expression growing by the second.

“He’s a conservative bigot, a Republican-governor-wannabe, how is he not–”

“He wasn’t back then!” Raising your tone, you barely held it in before your laughter burst out again at the same time Matt’s did, because yeah he was right – that dude did end up becoming a jerk. Except it didn’t really matter because you were never actually into him, and you can’t blame yourself for who your middle school classmates end up becoming.

“But he is now.”

You both kept laughing, shoulders brushing as you sat on the bed on his side of the dorm room. Foggy had ditched you both for tonight, opting out of your usual weekend hangout in favor of a date with someone called Marci, or so he’d said.

“Okay, okay, fiiiine, I’ll give you that,” you said in your defense, lightly shoving his shoulder with your own. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I didn’t actually like him.”

“Wait…” Matt said scrunching his nose in disbelief, his laughter slowly dying down, his face dead serious for real this time. “What are you talking about, why'd you kiss him then?”

With his face suddenly turned in your direction, you felt a your cheeks grow warm. “I guess… I just wanted to get it over with.”

An apologetic smile was what he offered in return, with no real judgment behind it. “Well, it should’ve been more special ... silly as it may be, you know... not just anyone.”

His words stop you in your tracks for a split second, a bittersweet feeling creeping up your chest. You’d never actually considered it, but in the years that had passed since that night, you didn’t recall that any other single kiss you’d received had actually been born from real love or any true feelings at all. 

There was that one time you hit it off with someone at a friend’s birthday. The light conversation between the colorful lights had you blushing more than usual. Their body was warm against yours when their lips were pressed to your own. The taste of their lip balm was sweet, almost sugary on your tongue, but it was all a spur-of-the-moment situation. While, unlike the first time, where you’d felt disconnected from your body, this time you’d actually enjoyed it. There was a warm feeling, maybe happiness, but definitely not affection and surely not love.

Then there were some other guys, whom you had very much liked. They listened to you and talked eagerly with you every time you bumped into each other, yet never actually asked you out. They flirted with you or had their friends act as their wingmen to eventually end up making out with you during random parties, but never – you realized – not one single time had anyone ever been interested in you affectionately, with tenderness or sincerity.

As if on cue, as if he could somehow sense what you were thinking, Matt broke the sudden silence that had grown in the room. “I didn’t mean to overstep I–”

You shook your head, breaking free from your thoughts, “No, no, I just… I don’t think I’ve ever had a…” Your voice quieted down before you could finish the sentence. While you weren’t ashamed of any of your experiences anymore, you couldn’t quite seem to get rid of the lingering pain that followed all of them.

“A real connection?”

Your eyes darted up to look at Matt; red glasses were shielding his eyes from yours, but did not cover the furrow of concern between his brows. It wasn’t a secret to Matt that you’d never been in a relationship. You’d told him at some point, during one of the many late-night conversations you enjoyed having. He’d found it hard to believe, truly, how anyone would pass on the chance of earning your trust. The thing was, anyone willing to pass on your endless compassion, your particular sense of humor, the softness of your skin, or the brilliance of your mind was a jackass, and he sure as hell wasn’t one.

He’d known you all of law school, at least all year and a half you’d both taken of it, although to him it might as well be a lifetime because he couldn’t quite picture a time when he didn’t recognize the sound of your heartbeat by memory. Right from the day you sat next to him in the Civil Procedures course, it took him no time to think of an excuse to talk to you, ignoring Foggy – who was also sitting next to him – to ask you if you’d care to study together someday.

Here and now, your very same heartbeat thumped loudly mere inches away from him. The opportunity he had once longed for.

“C’mon man, you gotta tell her at some point” was what Foggy had told him a few hours prior, before he’d left you two alone on purpose. “She obviously likes you, for real. It’s time.”

“I don’t know, Foggy. I don’t want to pressure her, what if she doesn’t want to be anything more than friends? I–”

“Oh my God, Matt! Are you being serious?” He said in a mock tone, “You don’t want to pressure her? She has completely memorized the way you take your tea and somehow prepares it perfectly in the shitty dining hall microwave. She genuinely prefers spending every Saturday night holed up in our dorm or out at Josie’s or pretty much anywhere just to sit next to you. She literally looks at you with stars in her eyes.”

Chuckling, Matt did his best to play coy, “Well, I can’t know about that last part–”

“You know what I mean. You have to tell her, tonight.” Foggy insisted as he made his way out of the dorm room; he pointed his finger at Matt before he fully headed out, “God forbids you actually pursue something that might make you happy. I’ll be over at Marci’s, don’t wait up for me…”

So yeah, Matt knew what he had to do. “I think I’d like to object to that… if that’s okay with you.”

At your silence– aside from the way your heartbeat continued to pick up – he proceeded, “You don’t really think there isn’t a single soul who’d honestly care for you, do you?”

His hand slowly moved from where it rested atop his lap. His knuckles gently brushed your knee and grazed your hand, guiding themselves with the line of your arm all the way up until they reached your shoulder. A small smile grew on your face and quickly turned into laughter. “Matt, are you serious?”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you.” In a second, he mirrored your laughter, nodding his head. He felt the warmth of your fingers cover his other hand. “Is it okay if I– can I kiss you?”

If you recalled correctly, no one had ever asked you that, in all of your lifetime. Surely, for you, this was a first of its kind.

As soon as you said yes, dexterous fingers slid around your waist, gently coaxing you towards him, before taking off his glasses. Your body didn’t resist complying, the warmth of Matt’s chest as inviting as the feeling of his heartbeat against yours, your legs at ease around his own. 

The stubble across his neck gently brushed against your fingers, a tingling sensation that almost sent shivers down your spine. This close, there was no escaping the soft smell of soap and cinnamon from his skin or the way his breath fanned across your face. Warmth grew inside your chest as you felt the soft brush of his lips on yours, almost melting together. It was slow and languid, much like honey trickling down your tongue. You were sure it could be just as sweet too, a kind of feeling you had never felt before. 

A feeling you guessed was reciprocated if the rumble that reverberated through Matt’s throat was anything to go by. He couldn’t tell why he had waited so long to do this; all of his excuses gone the second the softest skin of your mouth met his. As far as he knew, he could stay with you like this for hours. He didn’t want to pressure you– not even when your breathing got a little faster or when your lips parted oh-so-gently to let him seek out your taste– but this much he could do.

The only reason he found to pull back was to ask you, catching his breath and brushing his thumb over your lower lip, “Does this mean I can take you out tomorrow night? We can do this properly.”

You smiled to yourself, “Only if you kiss me like that again.”

If you're here, thank you so much for reading!!! Please please please let me know what you thought - all feedback is appreciated- and consider reblogging if possible (:

[rubydracogirl]

Hey guess what? Time for another talk about Stanley Pines. I have not looked to see if anyone else made this connection, so, if I'm just repeating something that's already been established, please disregard 🤣

Anyways, I was thinking about Stan's pet possum, Shanklin, from the 'Lost Legends' graphic novel and how funny it was that he had a possum as a pet, of all things. I also thought it was very interesting how Shanklin is mentioned in the preview of The Book Of Bill (Stan drew a picture of a possum with a knife tied to its back, that has to be a reference to Shanklin). While I was thinking about this, it occurred to me that it's a strange detail for Stan to have a possum as a childhood pet.

Don't get me wrong, having any kind of undomesticated animal as a pet is pretty wild, but I think possums are generally more loathed than other critters? (That's just conjecture since I've heard possums get called ugly while racoons are cute.) Plus, I don't know, that just seemed like a strange choice for Stan.

Myself, I love possums. They're shy, they eat SO MANY TICKS HELL YEAH (fuck ticks, I hate ticks), they're North America's only marsupial which is very neat, they're practically immune to rabies and they do that thing where they play dead.

And who faked their death for thirty years?

Stanley.

When this crossed my mind, I had a moment of like 'hold on a second' because it suddenly struck me that Stanley's possum might be more than just a quirky pet.

Please bear in mind that this is all just speculation on my part 😅

So what kind of guy is Stanley? He's actually not an aggressive person at heart. In Dreamscaperers, when he talks to Soos about what he was like as a kid, he describes himself as weak until boxing lessons toughened him up. Even so, Stanley usually only fights if someone he cares about is in trouble. (We definitely see that repeatedly when it comes to Mabel and Dipper)

When he's on his own however, it seems like his default is to bluff his way out of trouble or run, such as evading the law and Rico, amongst other instances. (I submit his repeated tactic of using smoke bombs as a distraction for his getaway.)

Possums are not aggressive animals. They hiss and growl, but that's more of a defensive display than an actual threat, and again, they play dead as a defense technique.

Now, I wanna bring up the fact that Stan tied a knife to Shanklin's back to make him an 'attack possum'. Doesn't that seem a bit symbolic considering how Stan had to make himself tough?

So, there you have it, I think Shanklin was meant to be a representation of Stanley's character.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading. Here's a meme my friend made after I talked to her about this

(You're the best, S, thank you for listening to me ramble about Stan and his possum)