#but this case is somehow just way worse than anything that came before it
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aside from the big bad blackmail murdererâą damon gant, we have:
- lana skye: forgery of evidence, disposing of a dead body with intention of concealing murder
- miles edgeworth: presenting forged evidence to the court (let's be honest, detainment would have been better than whatever hell this man is building for himself in his own head lmao)
- jake marshall: stealing evidence, perjury
- phoenix wright and ema skye: breaking and entering, trespassing, covering everything in their wake with luminol and fingerprint powder which endangers sensitive equipment and hapless passers-by
- dick gumshoe: disclosure of classified information, letting phoenix run amok in the department, being just way too much of a good boy on way too many occasions
- the judge: forgery of legal documents, lying on the resume (i refuse to believe this man has the law degree and the experience that are necessary to become a judge. i just refuse)
...
...
okay, i have to admit, i haven't found anything wrong with angel starr yet (apart from the seemingly pointless little lies in her first testimony), but I bet she'll have some time to shine on the last day of this kangaroo hell because there ain't no way a person this sus can Rise From the Ashes of this burning pile of garbage unscathed, with her dead fish eyes and stacks of lukewarm bento
i'm starting to get the feeling that once this trial is over literally everyone will be led out of the courtroom in handcuffs
#ace attorney#phoenix wright ace attorney#rise from the ashes#rfta#phoenix wright ace attorney spoilers#rfta spoilers#rise from the ashes spoilers#ace attorney spoilers#i cannot emphasize enough the amount of spoilers please i hope to god y'all are keeping track of tags#stacks of thoughts#for the record i do understand that aa law is a very loose concept#like the concept of love or ill-fitting clothes or the left eyebrow of a forgotten god#and they all do criminally punishable shit all the time#but this case is somehow just way worse than anything that came before it#i know they have two whole murders for the same-sized cast but oh boy do they stack crime on top of them like it's tricky towers#also gant is offensively adorable in some of his animations#objection your honour please make the murderer stop looking cute it's disrespectful to the victims and unfair to me#watch gant not even be the killer lmao#i wouldn't put anything past these people tbh
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Birdritch... something. I hurt so much. It's some number. You'll figure it out. You're smart, darlings.
masterpost over on @clockwaysadmin
Danny stayed at the back, trailing after the rambunctious flock of Waynes as they made their way behind the stage and to the other, hidden side of the theater. It made Danny smile, to see the family bumping shoulders, teasing, and laughing with each other.
His life in Gotham was something that Danny loved. Heâd clawed it out from the proverbial grave of his death and everything that came with it: nearly failing high school, his failing health after, the trauma it left him with, the relationship with his parents he left behind. But heâd gotten to the surface. He got his Bachelors and Masters and PHD. He got a job that he traded for another and another until he rose up to where he worked at an amazing company and got mostly left alone to dream up new ways to make the world better.
Danny loved it.
But that didnât mean that Danny didnât miss the close friendships that (metaphorically and physically), Danny had moved away from to achieve what he had. Visiting Jazz and Taylor, Sam and her brood, or Tucker and his partners wasnât the same as living with them close. He missed what the Waynes had with an ache so deep that he had to push it aside so that it didnât swallow him whole.
âCass!â
Tim calling his sisterâs name shook Danny out of his rumination. He found a little out of the way spot of wall to lean against between some boxes and rolls of scenery.
âYou were amazing, darling,â Bruce said as he leaned in to kiss Cassâ cheek.
Bruce handed over the bouquet of white roses and babies-breath that he had brought from where it had been stored in the sitting room. Cass basically buried her face in the flowers and inhaled.
âFor real, little sis, your moves were amazing. You have to show me how you hold some of those poses so still,â Dick said.
âAs if you could stay still,â Barbara teased with a well placed poke to Dickâs side that made him squeak and move defensively behind Cass.
âPretty sure she beats you in flexibility now too, dickhead,â Jason said.
âIt is okay, love you still,â Cass said in her soft tone. She pulled out one of the roses from the mass of flowers and tucked it behind Dickâs ear.
Dick looked momentarily torn if he should be insulted or fond, though fond quickly won out and he pressed a little kiss to the top of Cassâ head. It seemed to be a signal, somehow, and suddenly all of the family was talking to Cass or to each other. The fatigue was starting to pull too heavily on Danny for him to make out most of the chatter, so he simply closed his eyes and let the happy voices wash over him.
There was a gentle pressure on his arm. Danny blinked his eyes open to a worried Cass, dark brows furrowed above the dramatic white and glitter of her stage make up. Danny smiled, though he knew it probably looked a little drawn.
âHello, Cass,â Danny signed.
The furrow between the bows only grew as she signed. âYou okay?â
âOkay. Tired,â Danny replied before he gave up to talking verbally. The sleep clouded his mind about signs right then. He really would have to practice. âIâm just a little out of sorts, but Iâm very glad I came. Thank you for inviting me. You danced absolutely wonderfully. I donât know much about ballet, but even I could see how skilled you are.â
âThank you. I am glad you came. Could have not,â she said.
âOf course I had to come, you invited me and itâs an important night for you. It should be!â Danny made himself stand up away from the wall and put a bit more energy into his smile. âIâm fine, really, fatigue just gets me sometimes.â
Cass turned his frown away from Danny and directed it at her father.
âI already talked Danny into letting us give him a ride home,â Bruce replied.
âI really would be fine,â Danny couldnât help but argue. âIâve made it home in worse states than this.â
âOddly enough,â Jason interjected, âyou really arenât helping your case.â
Danny couldnât do anything else but give an unrepentant little shrug to that. He probably wasnât, but it was true. Besides, he had already agreed to the ride, not that he felt he had much choice. It was too easy to be swept along by the Waynes.
Barbara may be right that they did absorb people.
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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 𫶠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 wouldnât say a happy ending but a hopeful one
Hotch can barely stay awake.Â
He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadnât 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.Â
Itâs poor planning on his partâhe 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 heâs lucky, heâll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he wonât be out until their first night in a hotel.Â
He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no oneâs 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 everyoneâs there.Â
Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffeesâJJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAUâs supplyâReid 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.Â
Hotch just hopes heâs put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour.Â
âWelcome, welcome, welcome,â Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. âAs lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, Iâm afraid that weâve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.âÂ
âGreat,â Prentiss mutters. âHow bad is it?âÂ
âThree married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,â Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. âMom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.â
âAwful lot of similarities between the parents,â Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. âLooks like our killer has some family issues.âÂ
Reid nods. âThe unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. Iâm guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.â
âProbably has a grudge against his father,â Prentiss remarks. âThey make it out the worst every time.â
âThereâs no method to the torture,â Morgan says. âIt looks like heâs just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.âÂ
âOur guy probably isnât trained in anything, then,â Rossi says.Â
Reid flips to another page in the file. âSerial killers like to see their victims suffer. If heâs not torturing the mom physically, then heâs likely making her watch.â
âHe doesnât kill children, though,â JJ notes.Â
âMaybe he thinks heâs doing them a favor,â Reid says.Â
âThe unsub sees himself in the kids?â Morgan suggests. âHeâs doing what he didnât get the chance to do.âÂ
âWhatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,â JJ says. âThe press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.â
âEspecially with families being killed,â Morgan murmurs.Â
JJ sighs. âIâll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.âÂ
Hotch nods and he closes his file. âWheels up in thirty. I hope youâre all ready for a long day.âÂ
-
The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitableâsave 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 doesnât do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file.Â
The team settles in quickly at the cityâs 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.Â
Itâs brutalâmuch 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.Â
They donât learn much from the officers that they donât already know. This is the most recent crime sceneâGeorge 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, theyâre going to deal with a lifetime of guilt.Â
Itâs 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.Â
All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field. Â
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 whatâs left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics.Â
Theyâll find whoever did this. Thatâs what gets him through it.Â
They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killerâs 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 itâs 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. Â
Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. Itâs 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.Â
First they go to a neighborâs house, then an alleged eye witness. They donât 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.Â
âLucas Hartford,â Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. âThirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.âÂ
âWhat has he been charged for?âÂ
âBooked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouriâs version of aggravated assault,â she says. âHe got out of jail a little less than a year ago, and it looks like heâs been living in St. Louis for some of that.â
âAssault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,â Hotch says. âWhat makes him a suspect?â
âBoth parents are dead,â she says. âAnd from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. Heâs got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.â
Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. âWeâll 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.â
âAnd hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,â Prentiss murmurs.Â
Theyâre 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.Â
The house number and last nameâ1432, Hartfordâon 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 drivewayâthereâs no garage, so at least heâs probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive.Â
âRemember,â Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, âbe nice.âÂ
âIâm plenty nice,â he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh.Â
Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they donât wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a womanâcertainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising.Â
You.
Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock.Â
You donât live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isnât Hartford.Â
âAaron?â you ask in disbelief, and he doesnât even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions heâs 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. âMiss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. Weâre here with the FBI.âÂ
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. âWhat is the FBI doing here?âÂ
Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. âWeâre here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?â
âThe murders?â you ask with exasperation. âWhatâ what murders? And what do I have to do with them?âÂ
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.
âWeâll be able to explain everything if you let us in,â he says.Â
You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. âOkay. Sure. Why not?â
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. âTake a seat. Uhâ do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, orâŠâÂ
You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. âThank you, but thatâs not needed.â She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch canât stop himself from looking around the house.Â
Itâs a small place, one storyâlikely 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.Â
Two styles clashâdecorative 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 personâs mess barely being held back by anotherâs cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub.Â
âAre you gonna sit down, Aaron?â you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. âOr do you want to look around some more?âÂ
âIâm sorry,â he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. âJust curious.âÂ
âThat makes two of us,â you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you donât sit down yourself, and thereâs still a coldness in your eyes. âYouâre FBI now?âÂ
He nods. âI had a change of heart.âÂ
You huff a laugh. âThought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.âÂ
Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. âMiss Hartfordââ
You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. Itâs been over a decade since heâs heard your voice. âYou can skip the formalities.âÂ
Prentiss nods and repeats your name. âAs you know, weâre investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.âÂ
âAnd you think I have something to do with it?â you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him.Â
âNot you,â Hotch says. âDo you know a Lucas Hartford?â
âHeâs my brother,â you say, and your frown deepens. âYouâre not sayingââ
âNo,â Prentiss interrupts, âweâre not saying anything. Weâre just asking.â
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:Â
Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and youâre not anywhere near the same person you used to be.Â
Hotch doesnât know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decadeânow, heâs with the BAU. Itâs not fair to assume youâre that same girl he met in law school.Â
âMy brother is not a murderer,â you state clearly.
âAnd we arenât accusing him or you of anythingââ she starts.Â
âMe?â you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. âIâm a suspect too?â
âIf you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,â Hotch says.Â
You glower at him, but you stay silent.Â
âWe arenât accusing either of you of anything,â Prentiss finishes. âWeâre just trying to gather information with what little we know.âÂ
âI know my rights,â you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotchâs. âI donât have to tell you anything.â
Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes donât leave yours. âThatâs unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.â
âYou know my name, Aaron. Use it.â
He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. âThis is a serious matter. This isnât an accusationâweâre in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.âÂ
âAsk away,â you say. âDoesnât mean Iâll answer.âÂ
âLucas Hartford,â Prentiss starts. âHeâs your brother?âÂ
You nod. âHe lives with me.âÂ
He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didnât have the heart to turn him away.Â
âWhy is that?â Hotch asks.Â
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 heâs much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too.Â
âHeâs a student,â you finally say. âHe goes to community college. Iâm giving him a place to live while he gets his associateâs.â Â
âCommunity college and living with his younger sister at 39?â Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isnât in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. Youâve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going.Â
âHeâs getting his life back on track,â you say defensively. âIâm the only one left that can help him, so I am.âÂ
âWhat about your parents?â she asks. âSurely theyâre a better option than this.âÂ
âBoth dead,â you answer. âAnd no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?âÂ
Hotch feels Prentissâs eyes on him, likely because itâs a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he canât look away from you.Â
âReally?âÂ
He knows your parents are deadâit was in your brotherâs profile, and by extension it applies to youâbut it still hits him.Â
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.Â
And he didnât even know when she died.Â
You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You lookâ well⊠sad.Â
âMom went a few years after you graduated,â you say, looking at Hotch. âDad went last year.â
âIâm sorry for your loss,â Prentiss says.Â
You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb.Â
âYou never told me,â Hotch says with a slight frown.
âWe havenât talked in ten years,â you say. âSorry that I didnât know you still wanted updates.âÂ
Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. âExcuse me.âÂ
His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but heâs recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even.Â
âI take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.âÂ
Hotch nods. âWe came here looking for your brother.âÂ
âDoes your team know about our history?â you ask simply.
âNo.âÂ
âDo you want them to?âÂ
ââŠNo.âÂ
You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. ââCourse not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.âÂ
You wait another beat, then ask another question. âHowâs Haley?â
âGood, last I heard,â he says, and then he hesitates. âWeâre⊠divorced.â
Your eyebrows shoot up. âReally?â
He nods. âThis job isnât easy for anyone.â
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. âMorgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything weâve found.âÂ
Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you.Â
âThank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.âÂ
âPass that along to your brother, too,â Hotch says.Â
You reluctantly take the card, but you donât look at it. âYou can see yourselves out.âÂ
Prentiss nods. âThank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.âÂ
She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door.Â
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.Â
âGarcia?â Prentiss asks after she picks up.Â
âYouâve reached the office of all that is holy.â Penelopeâs voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch canât help the smallest twitch of his lips. âWhatâs up?âÂ
âDig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,â Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. âAnd throw in his sister, too. Heâs one of our only suspects, and we need to know if sheâs in on it.âÂ
âOn it,â Garcia says. âIâll call you back when Iâm done.âÂ
âYouâre the best,â 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.
âAlright,â she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. âWhat was that back there? You two know each other?â
Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. âWe were friends in law school.â
âSure,â Prentiss nods. âThe way you were around her, thatâs not just âlaw school friendâ stuff.â
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.Â
âItâs nothing,â he says as he pulls back onto the road. âWe knew each other, we fell apart, weâre here now.â
Emily hums. âIs it too far to ask if you were together?â
âYes,â he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. âIt is.â
âFine,â she says breezily, and she looks out the window. âBut that tension was thick.âÂ
Hotch knows what sheâs thinking. Hasnât 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 caseâÂ
He doesnât really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadnât expected to resurface any time soonâif Hotch is being honest, he didnât know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off. Â
Youâve changed a lot. So has he.Â
And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him.Â
Thatâs the only thing that should be on his mind.Â
-
âFor the last time,â you huff as you storm down the stairs, âI donât want to deal with this.âÂ
âBecause you know that Mia is a lying bitch!â Cleo exclaims, following after you. âIâm sick of you stealing my clothes!â
âIâm not stealing your clothes,â Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. âTheyâre too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldnât even fit into them.â
âYou are! And youâre stealing my fucking jewelry, too!â she yells. âAll of my shit is going missing, and I know itâs not Little Miss Law School, so itâs got to be you!âÂ
Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. âYou are not accusing me of this.âÂ
âI donât have anyone else to accuse!â Cleo shouts.Â
They both look at you, and Mia says your name. âYou have to settle this before I kill her.â
âOh, Iâll kill you first!â she hisses. âAt least Iâll get all my stuff back!â
You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and youâre about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You donât even try to hide your sigh of relief.Â
âThatâs Aaron,â you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. âIâm leaving. If you kill each other, donât get blood on the furniture.â
You donât give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you.Â
âYou have no idea how happy I am to see you,â you breathe.Â
âWhatâs going on in there?â Aaron asks, amused.Â
âMy roommates are fighting again.â You roll your eyes. âIt doesnât matter. Youâre much more interesting.â
âYou know this is a study date,â he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss.Â
âStill a date,â you murmur against his lips. âAnd something seriously needed.â
Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. âYouâve gotta get out of this house, honey.â
âI know,â you grumble. âBut I canât afford a place on my own.â
âDoesnât have to be on your own,â he says as he opens the door for you. âIt just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.â
âThe lease ends at the end of the semester,â you sigh. âJust have to make it until then.â
âYou know,â Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, âI do live alone.â
âOh yeah?â You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. âWhat are you proposing?â
He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. âJust that you hate your roommates, and you donât hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.âÂ
âCareful,â you warn. âYou keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.âÂ
âYou keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,â Aaron muses.Â
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 donât really care at this point. Theyâve made your life hell for a semester and a halfâthey can bother each other for once.Â
âAaron,â you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, âIâve got a test on Tuesday.â
âAnd todayâs Sunday.â He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. âYouâll be fine, honey.â
âYou have one on Monday,â you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck.Â
âRuining our fun in the name of schoolwork,â he says. âNo wonder all your professors love you.â
âEveryone loves me,â you correct. âIncluding you.â
You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.
âYouâve got that right.â
He closes your door then gets in the other side, and youâre 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.Â
âYouâre a threat to my grades, yâknow.â
âMaybe itâs all part of my plan,â you say. âDistract you with kisses to make sure Iâm a shoe-in for this fellowship.â
âA dastardly plan,â he says with mock austerity.Â
âIâve been told I have to be more of a shark,â you muse. âConsider this me taking down my competition.â
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.Â
Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world.Â
âDonât let anyone know,â he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. âBut Iâll happily fall to you every time.â
âAs long as you donât tell everyone how whipped I am for you,â you tease.
âLooks like weâve both got reputations to keep up.â
âLooks like it.â
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 otherâs presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air.Â
(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)
-Â
You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger.Â
Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friendsâ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it.Â
You didnât listen. Youâve 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. Â
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.Â
All youâve ever wanted to do is help people.Â
And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you canât help but wonder where the hell you went wrong.Â
You donât want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI wonât stop bugging you until you give them answersâyou know Aaron Hotchner wonât stop bugging you.Â
Because godâ what are the odds?Â
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?Â
Itâs ridiculous, and itâs such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. Youâve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than youâd 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 shouldâve been your golden years.Â
Itâs not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you donât want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaronâs eyesâhe was profiling you and your place the entire time.Â
If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant.Â
Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course itâs Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if itâs on you or your brother. âThank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.â
âWell, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.â You cross your arms as you sit back. âIâm not really gonna let that stand.â
âIâm surprised you havenât asked for a lawyer,â he says as he sits down across from you.Â
âI donât plan to be here for very long,â you respond tartly. âBut donât worryâthat can always change. I know my rights.âÂ
âIâm the last person you need to tell that to.â Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though heâs obviously olderâmore grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching lineâyou still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties.Â
You wonder what he sees when he looks at you.Â
âYour last name wasnât Hartford when I met you,â he says. âWhy is it now?âÂ
âNot one for small talk,â you remark.Â
âI never have been.âÂ
âI remember.â You hold his gaze. âItâs my momâs maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.âÂ
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. Aaronâs always been like that, but itâs tenfold now.Â
You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face.Â
âHow long have you been living in St. Louis?â
âSeven years. Iâve had that house for three.âÂ
âRent or own?â
âRent,â you scoff. âI donât make enough for a down payment, and I donât want a place tying me down.â
âWhat inspired the move?â
âClose enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.âÂ
âAnd home is?âÂ
âSt. Charles,â you say, and you purse your lips. âShouldnât you already know all this?â You nod at the file in front of him. âItâs either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.âÂ
âWe prefer to get our information from the source,â he says.Â
âSources can lie.âÂ
Aaron doesnât waver. âAnd we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.âÂ
Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. âAsk your questions, Aaron.âÂ
He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to youâyour brotherâs 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.Â
You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything youâd 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.Â
You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened.Â
âLucas Hartford is our main suspect,â he says. âHe matches our initial profileâin and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and heâs got a sister.â  Â
âNone of those sound like questions,â you say.Â
âWhere is your brother?â he asks firmly. Heâs given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell heâs getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly.Â
âI donât know,â you admit.Â
âYou donât know,â he repeats.Â
âI let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,â you say. âHeâs done both, so I stay out of his business.â
âAnd youâre telling me you havenât questioned it?â
âI called him the other day after you left,â you say. âHe didnât pick up, and I didnât get a call back until the next night.âÂ
Aaronâs eyes sharpen. âWhat did you say to him?âÂ
âI called to see where he was,â you say evenly. âI think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.âÂ
âYou didnât tell himââÂ
âNo,â you interrupt, âI didnât tell him about your investigation. If I think youâre wrong, why would I need to let him know?âÂ
He still has that look in his eyes, and you know youâre getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse.Â
âGood,â he nods. âYou could be putting lives in danger if you doâincluding yours.âÂ
âPlease,â you scoff. âHe wonât hurt me. He never has.âÂ
âWhy do you let him stay with you?â Aaron asks. âYouâre straight-edge, heâs a borderline alcoholic thatâs been in and out of jail for years. Youâve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. Youâve got your life together, his is falling apart.âÂ
âThatâs why I do it,â you say. âOur parents are dead. Iâm all he has left, and heâs all I have left. I want him to get better, so Iâm trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if heâs got no support?âÂ
âThatâs an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasnât earned it.âÂ
âIâve gotten good at that over the years,â you reply.Â
Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly.Â
âAnd youâre wrong, by the way.âÂ
âAbout what?â he asks. Again, unshaken.Â
âI donât have a law degree,â you say. âI dropped out.âÂ
And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing heâs gotten out of you.Â
âWhy? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.âÂ
âMy mom got cancer,â you say. âLuke 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 couldnât do that from DC.âÂ
âI had no idea.â This is the first time he looks taken aback since youâve met him again. âAnd sheâsââ
âDead,â you supply without waiting for an answer. You know he already knows it, but it still seems to have some effect on him. âWent a couple months after I was meant to graduate.âÂ
ââŠIâm sorry for your loss,â he says. Heâs just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least.Â
âItâs been a decade,â you say. âIâm just sorry it was her instead of my dad.âÂ
Aaronâs brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. âYou seem to have something against your father.âÂ
You huff a mirthless laugh. âExcellent profiling.âÂ
âChild abuse is common for serial killers,â Aaron says. âWe find itâs typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.âÂ
You stare at him again. This isnât just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchnerâitâs revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron.Â
âYeah,â you finally say. âOur dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?âÂ
âYou know thââÂ
Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. âItâs valuable information for the profile.âÂ
The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. âSure.âÂ
He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file.Â
âIâll be back,â he says. âWould you like anything? Water?â
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.Â
âLook, Aaron,â you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. âI know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but Iâm telling youâmy brother and I donât play any part in it.âÂ
âThe profileââÂ
âI donât care what your profile says,â you interrupt. âHe didnât do it. He couldnât have done it.âÂ
âHeâs rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isnât good for anyone.â You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. âBut heâs 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.âÂ
âI suppose weâll find out,â he says evenly.Â
He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You donât mean to be desperate, but you feel it. Youâve been defending Lucas at every chance, but youâre terrified of being wrong. Youâre terrified that Aaron might be rightâthat he might be behind all of this.Â
For his sakeâand your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when heâs all you have leftâyou hope youâre right.Â
You have to be right.Â
The room feels even colder.Â
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 houseâhe said he doesnât want them to know, but you think they already do.Â
You wonder the kind of things theyâve come up with about you and him.Â
-
Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room.Â
âShe does not like you.âÂ
âDid you gather anything else?â he asks placidly. He sets your brotherâs file down so he can fix his tie.Â
âAbusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,â he says. âLucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Ohâ and she really doesnât like you.âÂ
âIf you donât want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,â Hotch demands.Â
Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You havenât exactly relaxed, but youâre 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.Â
âHer brother feels like a prime suspect,â Reid murmurs. âI feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.âÂ
âI told Penelope to keep an eye on him,â Prentiss contributes. âSheâs 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 outâeverything. Weâll know if she gets anything.â
âSerial killers want to see the damage theyâve done,â Reid says. âThings are falling apart hereâthe whole city is terrified. Heâs gotta be in St. Louis still.âÂ
âYouâre sure that heâs still in the running.â Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesnât want to put you through anything more than he has toânot after what youâve told him.Â
And Hotch knows your past is your businessâhe just canât believe you never told him.Â
Heâs 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.Â
âIâm sure, sir,â Reid says. âIâve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.â
Morgan frowns. âExplain.â
âFamily annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,â he says. âParanoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.â
âHeâs killing the parents but leaving the children alive,â Hotch says. âSounds like a liberator to me.â
âThatâs what I think,â Reid nods. âIf Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?â He shrugs. âThat could be why he started going for other families.âÂ
âOther fathers to take his place,â Morgan realizes, and he nods again.Â
âYou should talk to her, Spence,â Prentiss says. âYouâve got a handle on the profile, and youâre pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable personâjust canât accept her brother doing something like this.âÂ
âItâs typical for someone to deny their family memberâs involvement,â Reid says. âNo one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.âÂ
âIf you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think sheâll listen.â Prentiss looks at Hotch. âSheâs too closed off with you.â
âThatâs how she is,â Hotch claims.
âMaybe,â she shrugs, âbut itâs much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.âÂ
Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation.Â
âIâd be happy to talk to her,â he says. âI know what itâs like to be in this kind of positionâI can put her at ease, sympathize with her.âÂ
They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of youâsome part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego.Â
âFine.â He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. âI trust you to handle it.âÂ
Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. âThank you. Uhâ sir. I appreciate your trust.âÂ
âYeah, yeah,â he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside.Â
He says your name and sits down across from you. âIâm Spencer Reid. I know weâve 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.â
You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes HotchâŠÂ
Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesnât understand you the way he used toâthat he doesnât hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesnât know you anymore.Â
Hotch doesnât get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you.Â
âThey sent a new one in,â you say.Â
âYou looked like you needed a break from Hotch,â Reid says. âDonât worry. We all do sometimes.â
You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual.Â
âI can imagine.â
He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you donât look happy, you donât cut him off like you cut Hotch off.Â
âSheâs pretty,â Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. âAnd stubborn. I see why you like her.âÂ
âShut up, Morgan,â Hotch mutters.
He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation.Â
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 donât stare daggers at him the entire time.Â
Time doesnât always heal all wounds, he thinks.Â
When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. âYou think sheâs part of this?â
He shakes his head. âNo. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainlyâit hurt her, obviously, but it hasnât taken over her life.â
âWhat about her brother?â Prentiss asks.Â
âThe more we learn, the more I suspect him,â Morgan says.Â
She nods in agreement. âWe just have to find him.â
Hotch isnât sure yet.Â
But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong.Â
-
Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldnât be happier.Â
Itâs 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.Â
Youâre two years into law school, and it feels like youâve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but itâs made better with Aaron.Â
Youâre laying down on a blanketâone you crocheted yourself in undergradâresting your head on Aaronâs 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.Â
You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you donât care. It has been too damn long since youâve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and youâve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. Thatâs far enough away for you.Â
Itâs been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issuesâLuke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round.Â
You donât think youâre pushing it when you say Aaronâs support has been the only reason youâve gotten through it, your gradesâand your mental stateârelatively unscathed.Â
Aaron says your name, and you hum.Â
âAre you listening?â he asks.Â
âOf course,â you say.Â
âYour eyes are closed.âÂ
âI donât need my eyes to listen,â you say wryly. âWhatâs up?âÂ
You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly.Â
âI got a call from Haley,â he says carefully.Â
Your eyes open and you frown.Â
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 shouldnât be a big deal now. But heâs treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate.Â
âYeah? Whatâd she want?â
ââŠSheâs in DC for the weekend,â he says. âSome conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.â
You finally sit up, his hands falling from where heâd been playing with your hair, and you look at him.
âYour high school girlfriend wants to catch up.â
âAn old friend wants to catch up,â he corrects. âI havenât really talked to her since we graduated high school.âÂ
ââŠOkay,â you say slowly. âDo you want to see her?âÂ
He shrugs. âI thought it would be nice.â
âDo you think she thinks itâll be more than nice?â you ask.Â
âI donât know,â he admits. âI donât even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.âÂ
Your eyebrows rise. âYour mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?âÂ
âItâs the only way I can think of her getting it,â Aaron shrugs. âLike I said, I havenât talked to her since graduation.âÂ
You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron.Â
Youâve met his mom a dozen times. Youâre insistent that she doesnât like you, despite Aaronâs assertions towards the oppositeâit wouldnât surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction.Â
But that train of thought feels a little crazy. Youâre confident in your relationship with Aaronâyou love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. Youâre not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up.Â
âGo for it,â you finally say.Â
He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. âReally?âÂ
âI trust you, Aaron,â you say. âYou say sheâs just a friend, I believe it.âÂ
You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaronâs smiling softly at you.Â
âThank you,â he says.Â
ââCourse,â you say, tipping a shoulder. âIâm known to be rational from time to time.âÂ
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.Â
âI love you,â he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything.Â
You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand.Â
Sometimes you need reminders.Â
âI love you too.âÂ
-
âFour more bodies,â Prentiss mutters. âGod.âÂ
âYou can say that again,â Morgan murmurs.Â
Hotch is silent as he examines the fatherâs body. Theyâve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadnât been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third.Â
No one expected this to happen so soon.Â
The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. Itâs the work of their unsub, no doubt.Â
Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information theyâd found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the familyâs maid when she arrived for work.Â
An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one manâs deranged quest for liberation.Â
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.Â
He sees Jack in every single one. He canât help it.Â
Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime sceneâJJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didnât want Reid to see it. Theyâll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and itâs imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press.Â
Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount.Â
âIt just doesnât make sense,â Morgan says as he stands back up. âOur 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 isnât his thing.âÂ
He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the fatherâs arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. âLook at this. Heâs been stabbed at least ten times, and his armâs nearly severed from his body.â
âAnd his neck,â Morgan mutters. âHeâs half decapitated.âÂ
Hotch sets the arm back down. âThe unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.â He looks up at Morgan. âI donât think he has a reason for killing the children. I think heâs getting sloppyâheâs getting overwhelmed by his anger.âÂ
âYou think heâs devolving,â he says, catching on.Â
âSomething tells me weâre coming to the end of the line,â Hotch says. âWhatever he does next, heâs going out with a bang.âÂ
-
The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms arenât happy that theyâre working around the clock, the chief isnât happy that the BAU hasnât figured everything out yet, and the city isnât happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight.Â
JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their basesâthey still havenât been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city.Â
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.Â
âThis just isnât matching up,â Reid complains. âLucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth heâs got alibis.âÂ
âWhat are they?â Hotch asks.Â
âHe was on the road all night when the third happened,â Reid says.Â
âAnd how do we know?â Prentiss asks.Â
âGarcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,â Morgan contributes. âMustâve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.âÂ
âThe last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,â Prentiss says. âI called the leader and she said he was there.â
âDo we have footage from any of those places?â Hotch asks. âWe need to make sure.âÂ
Reid nods. âI asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through itâI canât imagine itâs easy to get all that access.âÂ
âWhat about a second unsub?â Morgan suggests.Â
Hotch shakes his head. âThese are all meant to be personal for liberationâcatharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.âÂ
âWhat about your suspect?â Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. âCould he be the unsub?âÂ
âPatrick Fenton,â Morgan says, and he shrugs. âHe fits itâdead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But heâs got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I donât see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.âÂ
âMaybe weâll figure something out in questioning,â Reid says hopefully.Â
Morganâs phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. âYouâre on speaker, babygirl.âÂ
âI 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,â Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone. Â
âAnd?â Hotch asks.Â
âI was getting there,â she says. âLucas wasnât there. He wasnât on any of the footageâhis sister was.âÂ
Hotch frowns. You?Â
âYouâre sure?â he asks.Â
âIâm always sure,â Garcia responds. âAnd I donât know if Spencer is there, but he also wasnât there at the AA meetingâI combed through the whole meeting, and he didnât show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.âÂ
âAnd youâre sure about that, too?â Hotch asks again.Â
âWhat is with this questioning of my abilities?â she asks, offended. âYes. Iâve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that Iâve got him burned into my brain.âÂ
âThanks, babygirl,â Morgan says. âWeâll call back if we need anything.âÂ
âAnd youâre always welcome in this house of miracles,â she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up.Â
âLucas gave her his card,â Reid realizes. âItâs an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.âÂ
âProbably seemed solid to him at the time,â Morgan says. âHe doesnât seem like a detail oriented guy.âÂ
Prentiss frowns. âThat means heâs back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.âÂ
Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucasâs file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. âHis father died a year ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail nine months ago after a six year stint.âÂ
âIf heâs been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?â Morgan shakes his head. âHeâd snap. It doesnât feel like justice.âÂ
âHe thinks heâs saving the kids of these parents that he kills,â Reid says. âHe sees himself in themâhe canât look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.âÂ
âHeâs trying to get back at his dad,â Prentiss says. âWe know that.âÂ
âBut thatâs not his main goal,â Reid insists. âIf his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldnât be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldnât be the battered kid.âÂ
âHis goal has always been protection,â Hotch realizes. âYes, heâs getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, heâs trying to save himself.âÂ
âBut he didnât anticipate the kids being home this time,â Prentiss says. âHe had to kill them too.âÂ
âIf heâs seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,â Reid says.Â
âHe didnât get what he wanted,â Morgan says. âThatâs gonna take a toll on him.â
âHeâs coming to the end of the line,â Prentiss nods.Â
Hotchâs brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. Theyâre so damn closeâthey just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucasâs next victim, they find him.Â
âHis next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,â Reid says.Â
âYou think itâll be a murder-suicide?â Morgan asks.Â
âItâs common with family annihilators,â Reid says. âHell, itâs common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. Itâs their way out.âÂ
And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him.Â
âIf his dad was still alive, Iâd say he would be the target. But the only one leftââ
ââis his sister,â Hotch grits out, and heâs dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him.Â
âHotch!â Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. âWhere the hell is he going?âÂ
âThe last victim,â she says as she starts following him. âThe one person he never managed to save.âÂ
âGoddammit,â 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. Â
âWhatâs up, sugar?â she asks. âGot anymore leads?âÂ
He laughs dryly. âWeâve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road â heâs going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi andââÂ
âSend them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?â she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. âAlready on it.âÂ
âWhat would I do without you?â he asks.Â
âBe half the man and twice as sad,â she says. âIâve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.âÂ
âAlways,â he responds, and he hangs up.Â
Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of whatâs going on, because heâs in the fog of a rampage. Heâs in the driverâs seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him.Â
Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and theyâve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didnât really think of that through his haze.Â
âWeâve got an extra one for you,â Reid says, reading his mind.Â
âThank you. Iâ I know what youâre all thinkingââ Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.
âJust drive.â Her lips set themselves in a taut line. âWeâve got a murder to stop.â Â
And he does.Â
-
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 youâd integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear.Â
Summer has fully turned to winter, and youâre as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it upâthe sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like youâre living in grayscale.Â
A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame.Â
Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, sheâs running late. You donât know if itâs a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesnât really matter. Either way, youâre stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner.Â
It parks a distance awayâthereâs no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didnât do assigned spotsâand you have to hold back a scornful scoff.Â
Of course you have to deal with this now.Â
Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surpriseâand what you think is shameâpainted on his face. He says your name when he slows down.Â
âYouâre already packed.âÂ
You shrug. âIâm nothing if not efficient.âÂ
âI couldâve helped you with all this,â Aaron says, frowning.Â
âWhy do you think itâs done already?â you ask.Â
His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
âLet me save you the pain of chivalry,â you say. âIâve got a friend coming to pick me up. Iâve 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. Youâre welcome.âÂ
âYou didnât have to do that,â he says.Â
âYou know what they say about a clean break,â you intone. Â
âIâm sorry,â Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, itâs about the fiftieth time youâve heard it from him in the past two weeks.Â
âI shouldnât have let you get that coffee,â you say with a grim smile, âshould I?âÂ
His lips pull into a taut line. âI didnât cheat on you.âÂ
âI know,â you say. Itâs the one thing you do believe. âI just donât think you ever fell out of love with her.âÂ
Mercifully, you see Amyâs car pulling up in the distance. Sheâs your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit.Â
âMy rideâs here,â 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.Â
âIâm so sorry Iâm late,â she breathes. âTraffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoyingââÂ
âDonât worry about it,â you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. âYouâre already doing me a huge favor.â Â
âI want us to still be friends,â Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him.Â
âWhy?â you ask innocently. âSo I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when Iâm in town, and then get you to leave Haley?âÂ
âThatâs not what happened,â he says, but youâre already shaking your head.Â
You take the box from him and smile thinly.Â
âHave a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesnât involve me ever again.â
-
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. Itâs always been finicky, but you just donât have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open.Â
You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. Heâs got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.
âLucas,â you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, âI didnât know you were gonna be home tonight.â
His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. âI was wondering when you were gonna get back.â
âStole the words right out of my mouth,â 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. âThis place has been quiet without you. Wellâ except for the cops. They were pretty loud.âÂ
âThey havenât been back, have they?âÂ
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.Â
Your smile fades. âDonât tell me youâve been drinking.â
âOf course I havenât,â he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests.Â
âAt least youâre not high,â you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. âAnd stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.âÂ
He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops.Â
âDid you go to class today?â
âYou donât have to act like Mom,â Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff.Â
âAnd you donât have to act like a child.â You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. âIâm asking you about your dayâthatâs definitely not acting like Mom.â
âYes,â he mocks. âI went to class.â
âGood.â You glance back at him. âIâm proud of you, Luke. Youâve been making progress.âÂ
His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. âThanks. How was work?â
You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. âDonât even get me started. I swear, Marieâs going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.â
âSheâs still on it?â Luke asks, and you canât help but smile a bit.Â
âDonât act like you know what Iâm talking about,â you say. âJust agree with me.âÂ
âI agree with you,â he says.Â
âThatâs it,â you muse.Â
Your eyes fall back on your bag, and youâre reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up.Â
âOhââ 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. âThanks 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.âÂ
ââŠOf course,â he says, and he takes it back. âGlad I could help.âÂ
âIâll pay you back, obviously,â you say as you get back to your groceries. âI just have to wait to get paid again.âÂ
âDonât worry about it,â he says. âAnd uhâ you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?âÂ
You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. âYou have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.â
ââŠGood,â he says. âI can tell theyâve stressing you out.â
âLike that looks any different than my normal state,â you say wryly. âBesides, it wasnât that bad.âÂ
You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. Itâs almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to.Â
âYou remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?â
âI think? I was in jail, so.âÂ
You roll your eyes. âI know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.âÂ
âI remember you telling me how he broke your heart,â Luke says.Â
âThatâs not what Iâm saying.âÂ
âThen what are you saying?âÂ
âThat heâs with the FBI now. The BAU,â you enunciate, and you huff. âHeâs one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came hereâthey even brought me in for an interview.â
He frowns. âWhatâd you say?â
âThe truth.â You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. âThat I didnât know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.â You shake your head with a sigh. âThey must believe it, because they havenât come back.âÂ
âWhat have they said about me?â he asks.Â
âIâm not supposed to say.â You roll your eyes. âI think youâre innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really donât feel like dealing with thatâŠâÂ
You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. âI hope they find whoeverâs doing it, though. It is freaking me out that thereâs a murderer out there.âÂ
You pick up your knife and start cutting them upâtheyâre not the freshest, but itâs all Kroger had after workâand you glance back at Luke. âYou really shouldnât be going out so often with this going on, yâknow. I donât want you getting hurt.âÂ
âDonât worry,â he says. âIâm careful.âÂ
âI doubt that,â you say wryly. âStill, though. I worry about you.âÂ
âShouldnât it be the other way around?â he asks. âIâm your older brother.âÂ
âI worry about everything,â you say. âItâs my thing.âÂ
You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember whatâs been nagging at you your whole ride home.Â
âOhâ can you get the TV?â you ask. âChannel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her Iâd record it for her.â
Lucas doesnât respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up.Â
âThank you,â you say. âI think they have a fundraiser coming up or somethingâŠâ you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. âGod. I need to start paying attention in the break room.â
Another few seconds pass, and you donât hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. âLuke, Iâm making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.âÂ
âIâm sorry.â
The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell heâs much closer than he was before.Â
You donât 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.Â
Then, thereâs nothing.Â
-
Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is.Â
The station isnât too far from your house, but itâs still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim theyâve had to look at.Â
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.Â
If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldnât be happening. Your life wouldnât be in danger.Â
His hands tighten on the steering wheel.Â
âI seriously think weâre looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,â Reid speaks up from the backseat. âThis is his way of ending this for both of themâthe ultimate protection of his sister.â
âNo one can hurt her if sheâs dead,â Morgan mutters.Â
âHotch,â Prentiss starts, treading carefully, âare you sure youâre okay to lead this?â
âYes,â 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 didnât even realize were there, yesâbut heâs an agent and a professional before all of that.Â
It doesnât matter that you have history. It doesnât matter that you likely hate him.Â
It doesnât 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. Â
Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. Itâs as simple as that.Â
Hotchâs phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. âTalk to me, Garcia.â
âJJ and Rossi are on their way,â she says. âAre you headed to their place?âÂ
âYes,â he says, and he puts it on speaker. âIâve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.âÂ
âDo you think thereâs anywhere else he could be?â Morgan asks. âIf heâs going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.âÂ
âAlready a step ahead of you, my love,â she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. âThey grew up in a house in St. Charlesâitâs abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. Iâm sending the address to Emily right now.â
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.Â
âTell me how to get there, Prentiss,â he says. âHeâs there.â
âYou need to get on I-70,â she says, and then her brow furrows. âHow do you know?â
âHeâs killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sisterâs rented place isnât personal enough.â Hotch shakes his head. âWhy wouldnât he want to go back to theirs to end it all?â
âHotch.â Penelopeâs voice rings out in the car, and he doesnât even realize he forgot to hang up.Â
âWhat?â
âBe careful,â she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. âI⊠I know how important this is to you.â
Hotchâs throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them awayâhe canât be weak now. He canât let his team see him be weak now. âDare I ask how?â
âI found an article about GWâs mock trial team,â she says. âKind of went down a rabbit hole from there.â
Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime agoâit honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DAâs office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night.Â
And nowâŠÂ
Hotchâs spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He canât decide whether he cares or not.Â
âThank you, Garcia.â
âNo problem,â she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. âUhâ for what, exactly?âÂ
For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesnât. He canât, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it.Â
âKeep a watch on the patrol cars,â he says instead. âUpdate JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. Iâm sure Iâm right, but we need to cover our bases.âÂ
âOf course, sir.â He hears her fingers flying across the keys. âIâve got yours and the squad carsâ locations upâIâll call them now.âÂ
âThank you,â he says.Â
âGood luck, Hotch,â Garcia says softly.Â
Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him.Â
âWeâll get him,â Prentiss assures. Sheâs been watching him this whole time, he can feel itâsheâs been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. âAnd weâll save her.âÂ
His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch canât find the words.Â
-
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 donât know why.Â
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.Â
Your arms donât move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and thatâs when you realize youâre in a chairâtied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs.Â
Now the panic fully sets in. Thereâs a murderer in St. Louis, but you donât fit the victimology from what youâve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when youâre stuck in something out of a horror movie?
Lucas was the only one there with you. So either heâs in the same situation, or heâ
âYouâre finally awake,â a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops.Â
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 donât look away from his gaze.Â
âI was worried I was too rough,â he says softly. âBut youâve always been resilient.âÂ
âLucas,â you breathe. âWhat the fuck is this?â
âItâs finally going to be over,â he says, ignoring your panic. âWeâve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.âÂ
Your brother is fucking crazy. Heâs fucking crazy, and heâs going to kill you.
Youâve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now heâs going to be proven right when he finds your dead body.Â
You try to tamp down on your panic. You donât have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but youâve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life.Â
And if thereâs ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, itâs now.Â
âYou donât have to do this,â you whisper. âWeâ we can talk if you want to talk.â You tug at your ankle restraints. âThis is unnecessary.âÂ
He shakes his head. âI know you. Youâd run.âÂ
âCome on.â You manage as much of a smile as you can. âIâve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?âÂ
ââŠYouâve always been too nice,â he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesnât have his finger on the trigger. âAnyone rational wouldâve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.âÂ
âYouâre my brother,â you whisper. âIâ I love you, Lucas. Iâd never do that to you.âÂ
âFamilyâs supposed to be everything, right?â He shakes his head. âYou were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.âÂ
âIâve always believed in you,â you say.Â
He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. âYouâre definitely the only one.â
You shake your head. âThatâs not true.âÂ
âMom didnât care enough to stop anything,â he says, leaning back in his chair. âAnd Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didnât have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.âÂ
You canât defend your parents. Your dadâs a piece of shit, and your mom didnât stop anything he didâbut you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises.Â
âIâve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,â Lucas says. âAnd that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.â
You remember when you got the news. You were next of kinâyour mother was dead, and your brother was incarceratedâso you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montanaâapparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to deathâand you donât know if youâve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyerâs office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided.Â
âSo you killed all of those people?â you asked. âBecause you didnât get to kill our dad first?âÂ
âI was saving those kids!â Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. âSaving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!âÂ
âYou donât have to do this,â you repeat. âYouâre just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.âÂ
âAnd thatâs the zinger, isnât it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. âHe was right. Weâre a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and youâŠâ He shakes his head with a sigh. âYou should be out there prosecuting people like me.â
âHe ruined us,â Luke murmurs. âAnd Iâm finally going to fix it.âÂ
All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You canât find the words, but you donât have to.Â
Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. âOf course.â He eyes you. âDonât go anywhere.âÂ
âI wouldnât dare,â you say weakly.Â
When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because theyâre so decrepit, but you could never forget.Â
Luke brought you back to your childhood homeâthe place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. Itâs abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. Thereâs a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to collegeâexcept with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out.Â
You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw your way back through the gates of Hell inch by inchâyou will not die here.Â
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 canât help but flinch. He wonât. Not now.Â
âLooks like your friends the FBI are here,â he drawls. âYou said you didnât tell them anything.âÂ
âI didnât,â you insist. âTheyâre profilersâthey figure things out.âÂ
He shakes his head. âThey donât realize that I have to do this.â Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. âThis is the only way to end our pain.âÂ
He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind youâyou want to protest, but you donât 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 heâs got fire blazing in his eyes.
âFBI,â he barks. âHands up.â
Lucas doesnât seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. Heâs going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head.Â
âIâm afraid I canât do that,â he says smoothly. âThis is a family matter.âÂ
âPut the gun down, Lucas,â Aaron says.Â
âYou know my name,â he says. âI know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.â
âPut the gun down,â he repeats.Â
âI donât think I will,â Luke says. âYou see, I donât go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.â He tilts his head to the side. âBut you know that, donât you? Youâre all profilers.âÂ
âYouâve been targeting families that look like your own,â he says. âYou think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.âÂ
âI donât think it,â he bites, âI know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldnât be here right now.âÂ
âThis isnât going to bring you peace,â Aaron says. âYour sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?âÂ
âTrust me,â Luke says. âIâm not losing her.âÂ
He flicks the safety off and you flinch. Heâs going to kill you.Â
âPut the gun down,â another agent warns.Â
âIf you all donât leave right now, Iâll shoot her.â Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. âExcept you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.â
âWeâre not doing that,â the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think.Â
âReally?â Luke chuckles. âYou think you hold the cards here?âÂ
âItâs okay,â Aaron says. âGo.âÂ
Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they donât doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave.Â
âWow,â Luke muses. âThey really trust you.âÂ
âBecause I know you donât want to hurt her,â Aaron says. âDeep down, you know youâre not protecting her. Not by hurting her.âÂ
âIâm not hurting her,â he says. âSheâs always been the one to keep me safe over the yearsâIâm finally paying the favor back. Iâm finally taking her pain away.â
âYou were abused as children. Both of you.â Aaron looks at your brother. âYour sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. Youâre her older brother. Youâre the one that was supposed to protect her.â
âMy sister said youâre profilers,â he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell itâs starting to get to him. âIs that what youâre doing right now? Profiling me?âÂ
âYou would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,â Aaron continues. âAll you had was your sister, and even that wasnât good enoughâyou hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didnât think he was a good person.âÂ
Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. âShut up.âÂ
âYour sister has told me you can be more than this,â he says. âAnd I think sheâs right. Youâre better than thisâbetter than living between the margins and jail.âÂ
âIâve had a hole in my chest since I was born,â Luke mutters. âAnd Iâve tried to stop it, but itâs just grown and grown and grown. Thisâ this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. Youâve got it tooâ I know it.âÂ
âIâ I do,â you say. And youâre not lying. Youâve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that youâve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. âAnd 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 youâwe can both walk out of here.âÂ
âNo,â he whispers. âNoâwe canât.â Â
âYes, we can,â you plead. âI love you, Luke. Iâll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if thatâs what it takes to get rid of that hole.âÂ
For a moment, he doesnât say anything. For a moment, you think youâve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you.Â
âIâve never been able to protect her,â Luke murmurs. âNot from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.â He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. âBut that all ends now.âÂ
You screw your eyes shut. You donât want to see Aaronâs face when your brother kills you.Â
And then it happens so quickly you barely process it.Â
Thereâs two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. Thereâs a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brotherâs lifeless body fall to the ground.Â
You scream againâyou canât even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath itâand Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and theyâre talking, but you canât focus on a single goddamn thing because your brotherâs dead body is right next to you.Â
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.Â
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.Â
Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now heâs dead.Â
The only part you had left of your familyâgone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake.Â
Aaronâs 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.
âIâm so sorry,â he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. âYouâre safe now. Youâre safe.â
âHeâs gone,â you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. âHeâs gone, and he tried toââ
A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaronâs arms.Â
âI know.â
Aaronâs fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment.Â
âYou were shot,â he says with your name. âWe have to get you to a hospital.âÂ
You donât even feel it. God, you donât feel anything. Thereâs 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.Â
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.Â
âGet an EMT in here!â he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. âWeâve got a GSWâ sheâs losing blood fast!âÂ
You can feel Aaronâs 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.Â
âAaron,â you whisper, your strength fading. You donât think he hears you.
He helps you up and youâre suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and heâs 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 theyâre made of concrete.Â
âAaron,â you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. âThank you.âÂ
And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name.Â
Itâs not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die.Â
-
You wake up in the hospital alone. Â
You donât 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.Â
The real surprise is that you wake up at all.Â
Lucas is dead.Â
He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded.Â
You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesnât exactly feel real.Â
Youâve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospitalâwell and truly alone for the first time in your life.Â
You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and youâre thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day.Â
Who are you kidding? Youâre 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.Â
You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and youâve got the worst headache of your life.Â
And you canât stop playing it all over in your mind.Â
He was going to kill you.Â
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.Â
Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner.Â
The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do youâapparently the devil appears even when you think of him.Â
âYouâre awake,â Aaron says after a moment. Itâs the third time heâs sounded surprised since youâve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you.Â
But thereâs 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.Â
âHow long have you been here?â you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly.Â
Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. âThree days.âÂ
âAnd how long have I been here?âÂ
âThree days,â he says. âYou suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and⊠you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.âÂ
You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. ââŠYour brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to⊠keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one offâthankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.â
âHow bad was it?â you ask.Â
Aaron glances away. âYou died on the table. They managed to bring you back, butâŠâÂ
âI guess Luke did succeed,â you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesnât laugh, and you glance away too. âSorry. Bad time for jokes.âÂ
He shakes his head. âIf anyoneâs allowed to joke about this, itâs you.âÂ
Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looksâ god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you canât imagine you look much better. Â
âYou were out for two days after,â he explains. âThis is the first time youâve woken up.â
âWhy are you here, Aaron?â you ask quietly. âWhy have you been here?âÂ
Aaron frowns. âWhere else would I be?â
Your throat feels like itâs closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start.Â
âMy brother was a serial killer, Aaron.â Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. âHe killed ten people while he was living with me and Iâ and I didnât even fucking notice.â Your gaze moves back to him. âI went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.âÂ
âItâs not a crime to want to see the best in people,â he says. âEspecially your family.âÂ
âItâs a crime to fucking murder people,â you huff, and itâs only slightly unhinged. âIâ I thought I knew him, and I didnât. And if I did, maybe none of these people wouldâve had to die.â
âDonât blame this on yourself,â Aaron demands. âLucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protectionânothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.âÂ
You shake your head. âIt might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but Iâ I canât. Heâs my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to familiesâ god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!âÂ
âIt is not your fault,â he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. âHe was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and thatâs nothing new.âÂ
âI just donât know what to do.â Youâve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everythingâs come to a head and youâre in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. âI have to plan a funeral because Iâm the only one left to plan one, butâ but does he even deserve one? Heâs a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for godâs sake, but heâs my brother and even though heâs gone heâs still all I have left andââÂ
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.Â
âAnd I just donât know what to do,â you repeat, barely a whisper.Â
You meet Aaronâs eyes, almost desperately. You feel like youâll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life.Â
âWhatever you do,â he says, âyou donât have to do it alone. Not if you donât want to.âÂ
âAaron,â you start shakily, but he continues.Â
âI know what you think, and thatâs not what Iâm suggesting.â Aaron pauses for a moment, and itâs obvious how carefully heâs crafting his words. âIâve⊠always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isnât the way I wouldâve liked to meet you again. But Iâm thankful I have.â
He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize itâs his business card, and itâs got his number.Â
âIâm sorry for the formality,â he says dryly, âbut I donât exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.âÂ
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.Â
âYears ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didnât want to be involved in it,â he says, still treading carefully. You canât believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. âButâ but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.âÂ
âIâd like you to be a part of my life again,â Aaron finally says, âif you want to be a part of mine.â
For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyesâcoffee 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 somehowâŠ
Somehow, youâve ended up on a completely different side together.Â
âMy life isnât going to be easy,â you say faintly. âEspecially⊠moving through this.âÂ
âMy life isnât easy either,â he says. âIâm divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.âÂ
âItâs not a contest.â An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaronâs lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit.Â
âGetting through this certainly wonât be easy,â he agrees. âBut I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.âÂ
âI imagine youâre pretty busy,â you murmur. âUnit chief and all.âÂ
Aaron shrugs. âI make time for the things I care about.âÂ
Thankfully, you donât have to figure out how to respond to that, because thereâs a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.
âItâs good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,â the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out.Â
âItâs nice to be awake,â you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the roomâto add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume.Â
âIâll give you some time alone,â Aaron says.
Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. Itâs fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel. Â
âDonât go,â you plead, and itâs almost a whisper. âIâ justâ please.âÂ
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.Â
âOkay.âÂ
And he stays.Â
This time, he stays.
#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it#i wrote 15k words in 5 days#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner imagine#sadie writes
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Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when sheâs really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and Iâm so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!
~đ
Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, đ<3
Sick days and Race weekendsâ LN4
Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. â Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k
Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.
Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.
But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.
You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.
He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.
But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.
You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.
"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.
He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concurâ after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.
"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"
"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.
Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.
"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.
"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.
"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"
"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."
"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."
Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.
"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"
"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.
"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.
"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"
"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.
"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.
"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"
#f1#f1 x reader#mclaren#lando norris#lando x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#comfort#sick#fluff#qatarsprint2023#reader grew up on a farm#us gp 2023
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Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader SMUT
"Come here, you could meet me in the back"
Cw: SMUT, AFAB Reader + Reader wears period-typical feminine clothes, Ben catches feelings instantly (like an idiot), Why are all Bridgertons handsy, Vaginal Fingering, Pull Out Method/Coming on Stomach, Sex with Feelings, Is Vanilla a Kink?
I don't like this one as much as I liked Anthony's but I'm sure I'll write more for Ben eventually.
MDNI
It is oft said that second sons have more fun. They have the wealth and influence of a firstborn son, but they also have the freedom to behave in ways their elder brother could only dream of. This was the case with Benedict Bridgerton, second son of the late Viscount Bridgerton and only two years younger than the new one. While being one of the most eligible bachelors in London, he somehow manages to deflect wedding bells every time his eager mother brings around a single lady. He often escapes to White's for a stiff drink, but lately he has taken up going to parties thrown by the other unmarried men in the ton.
Benedict had never been a fan of Phillip Cavender â his soirĂ©es were always hit or miss â but tonight's actually seemed to be quite good for once. The spirits were high end yet no guest had thrown up the contents of their stomach thus far and the rooms didn't smell of sweat and sex. Of course, there was still the occasional couple in the hallway with their tongues down each other's throat, but the Cavenders' house had seen much worse based on the last few times Benedict had paid a visit. Though better than the last, the party was not exactly to Benedict's taste.
The only unwed Bridgerton brother â aside from Gregory who was not quite old enough for marriage â had just stepped outside with his glass to enjoy some fresh air when he heard a groan from the other side of the house. Benedict, though intrigued, decided not to butt in but subconsciously took a small step closer toward the sound. He took a sip of his drink before someone, supposedly the one that had made the aforementioned noise, stepped out from behind the wall, halting instantly once they spotted him.
You had been hiding on the side of the Cavenders' house, having been relegated there after the friend you had come with started getting debauched by a nameless lord in the hallway. It hadn't exactly been an unwanted change of scenery, the party had begun to take a turn for the worse when Phillip started chugging brandy straight from the bottle, but you would have preferred to gather your friend and flee had she not been taken up with someone.
When you rounded the corner, posture relaxed and hair freed from the coiffure it'd been in all night, Benedict's heart almost leapt out of his chest. He couldn't put his finger on why, but it had been the first time in his nearly thirty years of life that someone caught him so off guard. You took a startled step back, eyes widened after nearly running into the man.
You let out a small surprised squeak before clearing your throat. "Apologies..." you muttered, offering the stranger a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning to walk past him.
"Wait!" Benedict's mouth had worked before his mind. He couldn't let you leave. Something about you drew him in and after years of thinking he'd never feel the same flutter his siblings felt when meeting their spouses, a random partygoer gave him that exact feeling. However, now that he had your attention and you waited for him to speak once more, he couldn't think of anything that'd make you stay. Instead, he just gazed at you, studying every feature of your face, your hair, your chest...
"Sir...?" your voice came out meek but was enough to force Benedict back to earth. He blinked and straightened his stance, instinctively bitting his lip as he tried to think of what to say. Would a compliment be too forward? Too soon to ask for your time?
"Would you...care for a drink?" He immediately regretted uttering such a flubbed line.
Much to his relief, you tittered, "Sorry but I do not drink. Especially not at a party such as this."
Benedict nodded. There went his only idea...
You cut off his thoughts, "You seem familiar."
He looked up from the ground. "Do I?" He could track your eyes as they studied his appearance.
"You're a Bridgerton, aren't you?"
That made Benedict crack a nervous smile. Of course you'd clock him as a Bridgerton. Everyone in the ton knew his family and how they all shared the same features. "Can you guess which one?"
"Well...considering you are here and not with a wife, I assume you're Benedict. Unless you're the viscount hiding from the viscountess." Your smirk told him you were joking. If you knew Benedict's name, surely you knew enough about his brother to know he was too enamored to ever leave Kate's side.
He mirrored your smirk. "I assure you, I am not married." He paused briefly before asking, "Might I ask why you were out here alone?"
You sighed and pointed toward the Cavenders' front door. "My friend is in there. She's found some man to make her very happy, for turn of phrase."
Benedict let out an "ah" and leaned against the side of the house.
"Why are you out here alone?" you asked, clasping your hands in front of you.
"Not quite a fan of Cavender's parties. I only came because a few buddies asked me to."
"I am not a fan either. The man himself is so...distasteful. I do not understand why any respectable person comes here."
"What is your name, if I may be so earnest?" Benedict pipes in and the moment you answered, the very sound of your name became a tight yet comforting presence around his heart. It felt right, as if he had been searching for it all his life. He had never heard of you or your family before but meeting you hadn't felt like meeting the other strangers of the ton.
He couldn't even tear his eyes away from you, meeting yours as he suggested aimlessly, "Do you...wish to go inside? It is quite cold out here tonight. I'm sure we could find a room to stow away in."
It, in fact, wasn't "quite cold" at night in the middle of June, but Benedict chose not to correct his mistake either. You seemingly didn't care to call him out as well, as your reply came in the form of linking your arm with his, eyes still glued to each other's as he lead you through the house.
After escorting you into a vacant bedroom and shutting the door, Benedict downed the rest of the alcohol in the glass he'd forgotten about until then before setting it on a nearby table and sitting on the side of the bed, gesturing for you to sit next to him. His eyes trailed over your dress, taking in how it hugged you in places too improper to show off in any other occasion.
His hand subconsciously moved to rest on your thigh, just above your knee, as he spoke with a smirk. "Quite the dress..."
You smiled shyly. "My friend suggested I wear it."
Benedict seemed much closer than he had been five seconds ago, yet neither of you moved away. He replied lowly, "I should thank her then."
Without warning, Benedict leaned in and captured your lips with his. His hand squeezed your leg a little tighter when your hands moved up to his head, pulling him into you as you returned his kiss. His hand trailed up your thigh, aching to bring you closer if it were possible and, when he squeezed, you noticed how dangerously close he was to your ass.
Breaking the kiss, you pressed a softer one to his jaw before leaning back to meet his gaze once more. His own hand now cupped your cheek. Benedict leaned in again, this time resting his forehead to yours. Neither of you said anything, not wanting to ruin the moment with meaningless words, instead basking in the other's presence.
The air had changed and with it changed the way you saw the man holding you. Instead of Mr. Bridgerton, the most eligible bachelor and skilled eluder of the aisle, you saw Benedict, a beautiful, warmer soul than most men you had met in the ton. It left you wanting to know more of him. It left you wanting him.
As if on the same wavelength, the two of you leaned in once more, the hand he'd had on your cheek slipping into your hair as the kiss grew hotter. Benedict groaned into your mouth, instinctively rolling his hips into the air when you returned his moan. He broke the kiss, gripping your shoulder, softly panting against your lips.
"I want you..." he whispered, eyes shining as if he'd just then realized it. "I want you..."
Your hands held his face again, futilely steadying him when you felt the hand sliding along your back tremble.
"I need you..." Benedict muttered, pulling your lower half closer. "Please..." His hand trailed over your clothed leg again.
He could have blamed it on the alcohol had you declined. He would have accepted your decision, though shattering his heart, apologized and fled. Instead, he meticulously watched as you hiked up your skirt, bunching the fabric at your thigh. Without hesitation, Benedict slipped his hand under, passing your stocking and caressing the soft skin above it. His eyes looked up to meet yours, silently asking if you were sure. Your warm smile coaxed him into kissing you again, softer and sweeter than the two prior and ending much too soon, but then he pressed similar pecks to your jaw and neck. His thumb rubbed gentle circles on your thigh before moving up to squeeze your clothed breast.
Your breath hitched as he mouthed at your neck. The hand at your chest then groped your hip then finally rest on your ass. With another chaste kiss to your cheek and a limp tug to your skirt, he whispers into your ear, "Take this off. Lie on the bed."
Without wasting a second, after he pulled away, you reached back to unbutton your gown. Benedict's eyes were glued to your body as he followed your actions, throwing his coat and shirt to the floor in time with your dress. He helped you undress further, having to restrain himself from ripping off your stays. The moment your back hit the bed, Benedict was on you, caressing your newly-bared thigh.
Benedict lowered himself to capture your lips again. Warm hands slipped up your sides, one taking a breast into it as he planted another peck to your cheek, whispering breathlessly into your ear, "Perfect..."
His lips pressed a kiss below your ear before trailing down your neck, past your collarbone and stopping at your chest. He mouthed at your breast, showering the soft skin in languid kisses. The hand that once held one slid between your legs, the pads of his fingers wasting no time in circling your clit. You let out a gasped moan, instinctively curling into his hand. Benedict's lips met your jaw as nimble fingers rubbed just a little faster.
Your own hand, unsure of what else to do, sneaked up his shoulder and rested at the nape of his neck, guiding him in for another kiss. His tongue expertly clashed with yours when you felt a finger slowly push into you. Benedict swallowed your moan, unable to hold back one of his own as he felt your heat clench around him. He gently thrusted into you, thumb returning to your neglected clit. As your lips departed, a quiet smack echoing between your bodies, your hips rolled to match his movements.
The way your pleading eyes looked up to meet his almost broke Benedict's resolve. It was almost like an angel had fallen from heaven and landed right beneath him. He studied the way your lips parted to allow breathy pants to escape, the glass-like shine in your stare begging him for more, the way your back arched when he applied just a little more pressure to your bud. God, if he wouldn't kill to paint the very sight into the recesses of his mind.
Benedict was admittedly never a patient man â a trait all Bridgertons carried if his nearly thirty years of experience with seven siblings was any indication â so it should have come as no surprise when he started growing antsy. The ache in his trousers was growing harder to ignore and, with a dejected whine from you, he slipped his hand away to undo the buttons. Your eyes were glued to his newly bared form. Benedict resumed his position above, hands roaming your figure again. Everything about you was perfect.
His fingers dragged across your ribs, running warm, gentle lines over them as he whispered, "Are you ready?" He hardly heard himself, lost in his head, admiring your body in another once-over. However, Benedict heard your breathy "yes" clearly.Â
He took himself into one hand, holding the plush flesh of your thigh in the other as he aligned with your entrance. He slowly entered, breath hitching at the way your body welcomed him. Once he finally bottomed out, Benedict gripped your hips, blunt nails digging into them in a futile attempt to ground himself. He couldn't come before you, but the way you squeezed him, taking him as if created by God to do so, did not make that an easy feat.
Benedict was no virgin â hardly any man his age and status hadn't lain with someone â yet it suddenly felt as if he was. He gave an experimental, careful thrust, soon adjusting into a slow rhythm. As he gradually picked up speed, nearly resorting to recounting arithmetic from his schooling days to stave off the orgasm threatening to overtake him, one of his hands flew between your hips, thumb catching your clit once again. He needed you to come, needed to feel you tightening around him before he'd join you.
Maths could only do so much.Â
Yet, as if some higher power had answered Benedict's prayer, your back arched, muscles tensing and moans growing louder as your release hit. His thumb continued its assault on you long enough to guide you through your high, your toes curling and hands ripping into the silk sheets below.
Once your body retracted from his touch, Benedict pulled out, replacing you with his hand, your arousal dripping from his cock as he finished himself off, tightly gripping the pillow by your head. With a high moan, he painted your stomach with his spend.
He sighed and crumbled to the bed beside you, his hand resuming its spot on your thigh. Benedict laid back and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. He never wanted to let go, he thought with a subconscious squeeze of your flesh. As he replayed the events of the past few minutes in his head, the pieces were falling into place. His heart picked up speed, the satisfied expression he wore falling as he realized what he felt for you.
Benedict turned to your side, seeing that you too had been reflecting on the night as you bore up.
He never wanted to let you go, and the way you looked at him when you finally noticed his gaze told him that this wouldn't be the last time he'd see you.
#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton smut#benedict bridgerton smut#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x y/n#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x reader smut#benedict x reader#benedict x you#benedict x y/n#bene#benedict bridgerton x reader smut#kinktober 2024
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Can we shower Tomas and bi-han with some pampering after he's had a bad day? <3
A Well-deserved Rest
Prior notes: I'd give my attention to Tomas. Bi-Han can care for himself. Or let the other ladies in this world take care of him. It won't be me.
Pairings: Bi-Han x Gn reader, Tomas x Gn reader
Warnings âŒïž: Nah
Bi-Han
Being the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei is not an easy task. It never was. He had to observe many men while being summoned by Liu Kang at random times. Itâs a constant runaround with little to no time to rest. Not to mention Bi-Han would never allow himself to relax. Always on guard and alert in case of anything. Heâs only relaxed when he sleeps yet there were times when he would shoot straight up and be alert for nothing.
This day was somehow worse. Nobody in the clan was doing anything right. Their forms were off. Some of the new initiates were acting scared and backing out of fights. Bi-Han didnât even have his brothers by his side to help find another way to correct these fools. For once, he gave up. No more for the day. He ended training early, had something quick for dinner, and went to the bedroom to finally rest. You were folding the laundry as he walked in. The instance he did it was like you already knew something was off.
âToday wasnât too good, huh?â You casually asked.
He groaned as a response which was all you needed to hear. You stopped what you were doing and got right to work.
âTake your clothes off.â You commanded.
âI donât want to-â
âThatâs not the reason I am asking you to take your clothes off.â
Bi-Han wasnât sure what you were planning until you went into the bathroom that was connected to your room. You walked over to the freestanding bathtub and turned the water on. The water began to fill the tub and you began putting in a little bit of soap. Canât have the bath too bubbly, he doesnât like it that way. You put a few drops of lavender essential oil in it to make it more relaxing. Light some scented candles and you just made a relaxing atmosphere. You called Bi-Han in and he was somewhat surprised with how quickly you prepared everything.
 As he slipped into the tub you started grabbing other stuff like towels and fresh clothes for him. The warm water was already doing him wonders by relaxing his muscles. He leaned against the side of the bathtub and you came up behind him. You knelt down and started unraveling his hair from his tight bun. His obsidian hair flowed down and you shook it up a little to relieve the scalp. You got right to work with wetting his hair before pouring some shampoo in your hands. Your fingers slipped through his thick strands, carefully as to prevent accidentally yanking on it. Bi-Han canât lie, he prefers if you were the one to wash his hair. You take better care of it and massage his scalp at the same time.
In a matter of five minutes you got him to relax, almost forgetting the frustrating day he had. You washed the shampoo out of his hair. Careful, donât get it in his eyes. Then you went to focusing on his face. Heâs not big on you doing something with his face with your fancy and pricy products but you always insist. He gives in because he loves you enough to do so. You started rubbing your face washes on his face. He keeps jerking his head away but you reposition his head to get the job done. Hey, at least youâre not doing a clay mask on him. He should be grateful this is the only thing you are doing for him.
Some time passes and heâs about ready to get out. You practically took care of everything for him. He never realized how tense his muscles were before. You passed him a towel and left the fresh clothes in the bathroom for him to change into. Bi-Han was ready to hit the hay but you had one more thing to do. When he sat on the bed you came up behind him and told him to sit still. In your hand was a comb which you started to use on his hair. It helped take the potential knots that were in there. Another example of you taking better care of his hair than he does.
You finished quickly. Now he can sleep. He was much more relaxed than when he first walked into the bedroom. You did the simplest things to him yet it did wonders. Bi-Han began to lay in bed and so did you after putting everything away. The tub was drained, candles extinguished, clothes folded, and a happy partner. You brought him close to you, resting his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you closer. He took a deep sigh before saying,
âThank youâŠâ He whispered.
You know him so well. You knew he wasnât the type to talk about his day. You never had to say a word you went right to taking care of him. For that, he is grateful to have you in his arms.
Tomas
Building a new clan was hard. Finding the right initiates was like hunting a snow bunny in Alaska. The only luck Tomas had was with Hanzo but he was his own challenge. Getting him to listen or calm down was a hassle. Thatâs what happens when a teenager is dropped into the care of someone who doesnât have a clue about how to handle a raging teen.
Some days had their ups and others had their downs. Some days were a breeze with little to no casualties. OthersâŠnot so lucky. This day was one of those unlucky days.
Tomas was hungry and tired. He didnât even have the energy to cook himself a meal. Luckily, you were just finishing up in the kitchen area. You smiled once you saw him. You were planning on surprising him with his favorite meal.
âAww, you ruined the surprise. I thought I would have more time before you were finished training the initiates.â You acted like you were upset but that smile on your face betrayed your tone.
He looked at you confused, tilting his head to the side as he waited to see what you meant. Once he saw you place the slow braised pieces of beef on the plate he knew what you meant. His stomach growled like a plea to Tomas to take a bite out of that delicious piece of meat. You had him sit down at a nearby table and placed the food in front of him. It was still hot but he couldnât wait. He dug in before you could place the basket of bread slices in front of him. The poor man was starving. You were his savior that blessed him with amazing food. His mood had already improved.
Once he was done you both made your way to the bedroom to get ready for bed. For some reason you were clinging onto Tomas a lot. No wait, there was a reason, you wanted to make him feel better. Even when he was brushing his teeth you were hugging him from behind while leaving kisses on his neck. Donât worry, he was absolutely loving it. It got better when you both got into bed. You brought him close to you and had him lay his head on your lap. Your fingers ran through his hair as your other hand went to hold his hand.
âDo you want to tell me about your day?â You asked.
He sighed at first before deciding to let out all his frustrations. You were always to listen anyway. He ran through everything, the training, the initiates, trying to calm Kuai Liang down from his frustration, helping train Raiden, the usual struggle. Throughout that whole rant of his, you kept looking right into your eyes while your fingers ran through his silvery hair. Your thumb rubbed over the top of his hand to keep him calm and reduce any instance of him getting worked up from talking about the issues of the day. What also helped keep him grounded was your words. You assured him that he was doing his best, that nobody expects perfection, and that everyone appreciates him. He does so much for everyone and though that can be overwhelming it also felt good to know that he is appreciated for his efforts. Especially to hear those words come from your lips.
By the end of his rant he felt mentally lighter. Only when he was done did Tomas realize all the things you were doing. You looked at him so lovingly with no sense of judgment or annoyance. He started to relax more to the sensation of your fingers massaging his scalp.
âThank you, my dearest. You have no idea how much you mean to me.â He said.
âEven if I didnât know, that wouldnât stop me from caring for you every day.â You smiled at him before giving him a kiss that he needed and deserved.
At least Tomas knows now that even if he has a bad day, coming back to you means his day will end on a good note. His love for you increased. He knows for certain that he wants you by his side all the time. He never wants to let you go.
After notes: I hate posting late Iâm sorry. I was trying to take multiple naps but each time I tried I would end up panicking in my sleep. Also sorry it took long for me to get to this I hope i didnât upset you. AdiĂłs!
#mortal kombat#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mk x reader#mk x you#mk fanfic#tomas vrbada#tomas vrbada x you#tomas vrbada x reader#tomas x you#tomas x reader#tomas vrbada smoke#smoke x you#smoke x reader#mk1 smoke#mk smoke#smoke mk#bi han x you#bi han x reader#bi han mk#bi han sub zero#bi han mortal kombat#mortal kombat bi han#bi han#sub zero x you#sub zero x reader#sub zero mk1
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Aaaaah so glad I made it in time x3 your writing is godsent and being able to request something fills my cold heart with joy!
Okay so I rewachted Descendants and just... imagine if Carlos has to live together/spend time with a villain kid that got adopted and raised by the big bad wolf (I checked and yes that is a Disney villain!).
For some plot... (my mind comes up with something funny so do not expect too much lol) maybe taking place during Descendants 2 (with Uma) and somehow the crew has taken Carlos and Little Bad Wolf has to keep an eye on him? Except that little bad wolf gets seasick "Dude this ship isnt even on open sea, how are you feeling sick?" "shut up!"
'get him back' - carlos de vil
masterlist
The pirates never should have taken Carlos.
It was a stupid move, really. Stupid to get Mal on their bad side, but even worse to kidnap Carlos. As if Mal wouldnât do anything in this world or the next to get her friend back. As if anyone who dared to stand in her way would not find themselves lost to the salt of the sea if they didnât immediately back down.
Uma didnât learn that lesson soon enough, but she will. It doesnât matter that she was a formidable foe, the moment she made the fight personal by kidnapping Carlos, it was all over. Malâs got an unsettling edge to her voice, the sort of dark and twisted tone that makes you follow her orders without question. Villain kids donât like doing what theyâre told, but in this case, youâre all of the same mind. What matters the most is getting Carlos back. Your egos can wait until after your friend is back by your side.
Umaâs ship came by in the dead of night and took Carlos when he was walking around unawares. They must have all attacked at once, half a dozen pirates against one boy, because thereâs no way Carlos would go down without a fight. There are clear signs of a scuffle on the roads where they took him away, obviously not the clean abduction Uma was hoping for, but the facts remain. Carlos is gone, and you need to get him back as soon as possible.
Mal has already drawn up a rescue plan. Sheâs enchanted a small boat to be silent and almost invisible in the dark waters; once night falls, youâll sneak up to Umaâs ship and get your boy back. One of you will sneak on board and find Carlos, then dodge the pirates meant to be guarding him and bring him back to your ship. Youâll have to wait until the right time to make your escape, though, so you can immediately land at a local deck and make your getaway. Uma can beat you in water, but youâre faster on land, so everything has to be timed perfectly.
Youâre the one whoâs been assigned to the difficult task of slipping onto Umaâs ship. As the adoptive child of the Big Bad Wolf, youâre well trained in the art of sneaking around and blending in. Youâre the perfect spy, so to speak, so youâre the best bet the VKs have at going unnoticed by the pirates on that ship.
Even though you know the official reason for your selection is simply that youâre the best among Malâs VKs at staying under the radar, you canât help a rush of pride at being the one selected for the task. When Carlos looks up to see his savior, youâre glad itâs going to be you. You want to be the one on his mind when he thinks of safety. You, not Evie or someone else. Just you.
The credit for this rescue, though, should rightly be shared among all members of your friend group. Right now, Mal, Ben, Jay, and Evie are on Malâs cloaked boat, drawing close to Umaâs ship. It slides by before you, cresting the indigo waves, so close you could reach out and touch it with one hand. Right under it, youâre struck by the size of the ship. Carlos could be anywhere. This might take longer than you thought.
Mal nods at you. âItâs time.â
You nod back, standing up carefully and reaching for the rope ladder one of the pirates forgot to pull up on the side of the ship. Tugging it quietly to test its strength, you pull yourself up slowly hand over hand, pausing just before you reach the top so you can survey the deck and see how many pirates are there.
Not expecting an attack this late at night, Umaâs crew has left the deck mostly unmanned. Two pirates are idly chatting near the helm, keeping the ship on its course, and thereâs a guy up in the crowâs nest, although heâs nodded off instead of keeping a good watch on any possible intruders. You crawl over the railing as quietly as you dare, sticking to the shadows to avoid notice. Oil lamps cast pools of sticky yellow light on the ground, and you skirt them as best you can, all the while making for the stairs leading to the lower parts of the ship. Your steps are silent, each taken with the fear of causing a loose board to creak and alert the crew to your presence.
Once belowdecks, you can breathe a little easier. Most of the sounds you hear are of snoring and sleeping pirates, although a few still remain awake even despite the late hour. Without the stars and moon bleeding white light overhead, the halls are darker, giving you more room to bleed into the shadows and avoid detection. A few times, someone pokes their head out of their door or shifts around a little, causing you to freeze in your tracks, heart hammering in your chest, but you still manage to come out of each close shave without getting caught.
The further you go into the ship, though, the worse you feel. Despite living on an island for most of your life, you never really had a chance to get on a boat before, and you can say decisively that you donât enjoy the feeling. You like solid ground, a floor that doesnât rock, and the stability of knowing there isnât empty water under your feet at any moment. Umaâs ship lilts and turns every few seconds as it crosses the waves, and it leaves you feeling drained of all strength before youâve even spent ten minutes inside.
Youâre not here to complain, though, youâre here to rescue Carlos. You push past your growing nausea and keep peering in doors, searching for the room holding your friend. Before long, you spot itâ a locked door at the end of the hall, a flash of white hair inside. Itâs meant to be guarded by two pirates, but theyâve obviously grown bored of their post and settled in for a game of cards a few paces away. Perfect. You cause a small distraction by knocking a can to the ground down the hall, and hurriedly pick the lock while they go rushing off in the opposite direction.Â
You swing yourself inside the cell and shut the door again just before they look back. Grinning, you allow yourself one moment of quiet victory before youâre engulfed in a rush of red and black and white.
Instantly, your body is on high alert, but you manage to calm down when you realize youâre not being attacked by a pirate but one of Carlosâ fierce hugs. He pulls back a second later, beaming ear to ear. âY/N! What are you doing here? How did you find me?â
You laugh quietly. âYou can thank Mal for that, she dropped everything to come rescue you once we found out youâd been kidnapped.â
Carlos punches the air triumphantly. âPerfect! Letâs get out of here. Pirates stink.â
You shake your head. âItâs not that simple, unfortunately. We have to wait an hour or so for Umaâs ship to pass by land. That way, we can escape onto the peninsula without trying to sail back or sheâd catch us.â
Carlosâ face falls. âYouâre telling me I have to stay in this ratâs nest even longer?â
You frown sympathetically. âI know, trust me, but we have no choice. Sheâd catch us if we tried to just sail away. And believe me, Iâd like nothing more than to get out of here. I hate this ship.â
As if proving your point, the ship hits a sudden burst of waves and you nearly lose your balance and your dinner along with it. Carlos catches you before you fall, hurriedly bringing you over to a small, hard looking couch along the side of the cell.Â
âHey, easy there. Donât go getting sick on my watch. You can lie down and try to regain your spirits while we wait for Mal, alright?â He says.
You close your eyes gratefully. âThanks, Carlos.â
He giggles. âNo problem. Although I canât believe you feel this bad already, weâre not even out of the bay. This ship isnât in the open ocean, how are you seasick? The water is practically dead still.â
âShut up,â you mutter under your breath, fighting another bout of nausea.
Carlos laughs again, but thankfully remains silent. You have no doubt that heâll be bringing it up again soon, though, probably to win an argument about which VK is the toughest.
Youâd like to clear your good name, of course, but the rocking of the ship silences you again, keeping you absolutely still and silent on the tough couch. Carlos, sensing your obvious discomfort, tries to distract you by talking. He keeps his voice quiet so he doesnât attract the attention of the guards outside, and the soft lull of his words spilling out into the darkness of your lidded eyes makes you wish for sleep.Â
Carlos talks about how surprised he was when he was kidnapped, how glad he was to see you, what he plans on doing after you break him out of here, what he was supposed to be doing when Uma and her pirates took him in the first place. Carlos has always been a good talker, but youâre extra glad for it now.
When he pauses for breath, you laugh quietly and say, âI thought I was supposed to be the one saving you, but it looks like it might be the other way around.â
Eyes still closed, you can tell Carlos is smiling by the soft exhale he lets out. âIâd say freeing me from a pirate ship is a bigger deal than distracting you from seasickness. Iâll still give you this win.â
âThatâs awfully generous of you,â you hum.
âYeah, well, Iâm a generous guy,â Carlos tells you. âItâs no problem when itâs you, though. Iâd do anything for you.â
When you dare to crack open your eyelids, he looks more serious than youâve ever seen him. All of a sudden, the breath is low and careful in your lungs not because of the churning waters beneath you, but because of him. Always because of him.
âCarlos,â you begin quietly.
âNo,â he says, more determinedly, âIâm serious. I like you, Y/N. I really do. Seasick or not. Iâve liked you for a while, and if I was going to be stuck in a cell in a pirate ship with anyone, Iâd want it to be you. You were the best part about the Isle of the Lost and the best part of Auradon. I can go anywhere if youâre with me. You donât have to feel the same, I justâ I thought you should know.â
You sit up carefully. âI do feel the same way.â
Carlosâ mouth drops. âReally?â
âIs that so much of a surprise?â You ask, laughing slightly. âIâve followed you everywhere since we first met. Weâre practically inseparable. The only reason I wasnât kidnapped along with you is because I got distracted by Evie needing help finding a pair of matching shoes. Youâre my home too, Carlos. You always have been.â
His smile is brilliant in the darkness. âI couldnât be happier to hear it. Except maybe when we get off this ship.â He extends a hand to you. âHow about we make our escape?â
You take it, letting Carlos pull you up. âIâd like nothing more.â
It feels like your entire life has opened up before you. If it takes a kidnapping, a pirate ship, and terrible storms for the two of you to finally confess your feelings, it might just be worth it after all. Youâve got Carlos, and thatâs worth more than all the treasure in the world.
requested by @reinekes-fox, i hope you enjoy!
disney tag list: @blondsauduun, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @faerieroyal, @goldfish4403
all tags list: @wordsarelife
#carlos de vil#carlos de vil imagines#carlos de vil x reader#carlos de vil oneshot#descendants#descendants imagines#descendants x reader#descendants oneshot#descendants carlos#descendants carlos imagines#descendants carlos x reader#descendants carlos oneshot#disney#disney imagines#disney x reader#disney oneshot
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I crave reading a fic about Ravioli, but it's illegal in their era.
Like
Warriors teases Legend and Ravio for being "roommates", but then they both stop everything and shoot everyone down and explain how they "can't mention this sort of thing here" and how "Fable's done with it, but she can't do anything about the law until she's queen" and Legend tries to really hammer in the severity of the punishment for being caught acting gay.
Does this fic exist?? No one I ask can think of any about this even remotely. If it doesn't, anyone can take this idea. I can't write, but I crave this fic.
Ok so this ask is a little funny to me in the sense that anon is like "I crave.... âšïžhomophobiaâšïž"
I don't know if a fic similar to your idea already exists ? People of Tumblr, do you have recs ?
In the meantime, I liked the idea, so thereâs a little snippet under the cut for you ! It's not exactly what you suggested, I re-read your ask after I started, but the main idea is here.
(I have a specific headcanon that I haven't been able to post something about yet which goes pretty well with this : Wars met Ravio during the war of eras, yes... But an older Ravio ! And maybe he was already married to Legend, y'know, maybe he couldn't stop talking about his husband...
So it would make sense for Wars to tease Lege until he snaps, because he literally can't imagine there's a problem.)
Of course, TW homophobia & TW internalized homophobia (not much, but just in case)
â - Look at that smile ! â Warriors teased, poking Legend's cheek (and nearly avoiding having his finger bitten off).
â Someone's waiting at home ? â
Legend sighed. They had just landed in his era, and had a bit of a walk before they got to his house.
He may have been a little giddier than usual, happy to go home. It had been a while, alright ? And no matter how nice Miss Malon was, seeing her all lovey-dovey with their resident old man made him miss his own lover.
He just... Couldn't say it to the others, of course.
â - Just my roommate, Ravio, â he informed with a shrug.
Warriors blinked. The veteran thought that he had managed to shut him up somehow...
But after a minute, he came back with a grin that Legend didn't like at all.
â - Roommate ? " he repeated. " You look pretty happy for just seeing a pal. â
Legend frowned. Alright, he may have been cheerful, but he hadn't been reckless, had he ?
â - I don't know what you mean, â he said, neutral.
â - Ah, you know, just saying, we've never seen you so excited, and then I learn that you have a little housemate... I can't wait to meet him, that's it. â
Legend stopped abruptly.
" - I don't like what you're implying, cap, " he warned, scowling.
Warriors missed the murderous aura sent his way, and shrugged with a smile.
â - Just saying, if you have a crushâ
- Shut up ! â
Maybe the screech was a little much, but Legend couldn't shake the fear that someone might hear Warriors. He already got enough shit for his lifestyle, a rumor like that could send the guards to his head again.
Worse, to Ravio's head.
He shuddered.
The rest of the chain had stopped as well, all looking at the argument.
Warriors seemed shocked, and a little insulted, too.
It was getting overwhelming, being stared at like that.
Legend sighed and grabbed the captain by the sleeve.
â - A minute ! â he barked to the others, dragging Warriors behind him, away from anyone who might hear.
When he esteemed that they were far enough, he checked around them to be sure that no unwelcome ear was close.
â - Damn, vet, I'm sorry for teasing, but that seems a little excessive, don't you think ? â Warriors declared, rubbing his wrist.
The word made Legend frown. Excessive ? He turned around to glare at the captain.
â - I don't know if it's funny to you, â he prefaced with, " but I'm not exactly liked by the castle guards. Saying those types of things can send me straight to execution, alright ? â
Warriors paled at the word, visibly not expecting such a heavy topic.
â - What ? What do you mean ? â
Legend took a deep breath.
â - They already find excuses to get me when I behave, â he explained slowly, intelligibly. â If there's a word on the street that I'm committing a crime, that won't go well for me. â
Legend didn't know how to explain it better than that but the captain didn't look like he got it. He was frowning and blinking in utter confusion.
â - What crime ? â he asked, weirded out.
...That wasn't the thing Legend expected him to be confused about.
â - Loving a man, â he said, frowning.
Another silence.
â - You know, loving a man when youâre a man ? â he clarified, just in case.
" - Are you saying that homosexuality is a crime ?! " Warriors exclaimed in revolt, way too loud.
Legend shushed him hurriedly.
" - Yes, cap, I do mean that ! â He hissed. â What, does that sound normal to you ?
- Yes ?! â he blurted out. â Why wouldn't it be ? â
That shut the veteran up, who definitely didnât think that the conversation would go that way.
Legend stared and stared, trying to find the lie in Warriorsâ face, to catch any sign that the man would smile and joke, âgotcha !â
But he only found profound honesty.
He couldnât help a small nervous chuckle.
â - Thatâs⊠â
That was great, right ? They had established that it was probable Warriorsâ time came after Legendâs.
It meant that things had changed. It was good.
Right ?
Why didnât Legend feel as happy as he should ?
â - Oh, â he just said, and decided that he needed to sit down, actually.
His eyes found a convenient stump a few feet away from them. He walked to it and let himself fall sitting there.
Warriors stared at him, still with this shocked expression.
â - Lege ? â
â - Iâm fine, â he answered, voice neutral. â Itâs good if itâs been decriminalized, â he added not to look like this was the problem.
He was, in fact, actively trying to make things change in his time. Fable already promised him that revising this law was one of her biggest priorities as soon as sheâd get properly crowned, but sheâd probably face disapproval from most of the stuck-up nobles and so itâll take time, and...
In the meantime, Legend was stuck with pretending his lover was a roommate, being scared to even hold his hand in public, abruptly changing his behavior everytime someone knocked at the door.
And that was the problem, wasnât it ? He really was glad for the future to not have to deal with this fear.
He was just bitter that that was what he got.
(He was just tired of only being allowed forbidden love.)
â - Wait, I donât, I donât get it, â Warriors stuttered, still looking so puzzled. â Iâve met⊠I mean, wait. â
He stopped, joining his two hands in front of his lips, visibly trying to phrase his thoughts a certain way.
â You know the war of eras involved a lot of time-traveling fighters, right ? Well, one of my allies came from your time, and he was definitely married to a man. â
Legend arched a brow at him, reluctant to believe him.
â - How can you be sure he came from this time in particular ? Maybe he came from a few decades in the future, who can tell. â
Warriors looked like he had bitten inside a lemon for a second, and then he closed his eyes, struggling to find his words.
â - Listen, I just, I know, ok ? He mentioned... People you know. And before you ask, â he quickly added as Legend opened his mouth with a frown, â Iâm not going to tell you more than that. But trust me, alright, vet ? Things will get better sooner than you think. â
Legend shrugged, but it did feel good to hear. He tried a smile.
â - Well, thatâs great, then, â he declared. He finally got up, dusting up his tunic. â But it doesnât actually change anything. The type of comments you made earlier ? You keep them to yourself, here. â
Warriors nodded slowly, something like stifled revolt and sadness in the movement. Legend didnât feel like addressing it.
It was great that the captain felt so strongly about the subject, in this direction at least. It was also not the place⊠And definitely not the time.
â Good, then, â he commented. â I still want to go home quick, so if we could get moving⊠â
Warriorsâ nod was way more sympathetic.
â - Of course, â he said. â I still want to meet this Ravio. He looks like he makes you happy. â
Legend jerked his head towards him, his warning expression not entirely devoid of amusement. Warriors raised both his hands in peace.
â He sounds like a great friend, is all Iâm saying ! â
And it did get a little chuckle out of Legend.
â - Oh, he is, â he declared with a smile. â Iâm afraid you two will get along swimmingly. â
Warriors laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by.
When they got back to the rest of the group, the curious gazes sent their way were soothed by the fact that they were both smiling.
Legendâs smile was actually getting wider and wider, as they were getting close to his house.
When he saw it on its little hill, he rushed to the door, trying not to bounce on his feet as he waited for his partner to open.
And if Warriors observed from afar as they fell in each otherâs arms, he waited until they were all in the privacy of Legendâs house to wink teasingly at their veteran. After all, he never denied having a crush, which was telling for 'mister I'll never confirm what I don't want you to know'.
It was easy to feel lighter about this story when he knew it'll end well for the couple.
They just had to wait a little longer.
#linked universe#ravioli ship#raviolink#lu legend#lu warriors#ask answer#tw homophobia#Lenn writes#lu fanfiction#Sorry it took so long to answer !#I started writing it and then forgot about it for the longest time#I know it's not really detailed but I hope it still scratch your itch anon !#I could try to do more but I'm starting to think it's not that good so... Better post it before scratching it all !#(Edit for repetitions)#(I hadn't proof-read very well before I posted. URGH)
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Aaa thank you for asking, I am doing well also :3
Could I request an Alastor x Male!reader who is also a deer like him? Either the same type or a different kind and our antlers are growing in for the first time in hell (since I imagine only Alastor can control his? Depending on your head canon of that :3)
And we ask Alastor for advice since it keeps getting in the way of things and are overly sensitive (I read that when deers first grow antlers they are very sensitive but I could be wrong) if that is alright!
Ah, I'm glad to hear you're well Strawberry <3 !
At this point, I swear I start every request with âso sorry I took foreverâŠâ This one is literally no different. Frfr this one took 5 ever and I'm sorryyyy ( T ~ T)
This request was actually kinda hard for me to come up with something, but I THINK I did okay with it.
~~~
Alastor x Male!ReaderÂ
CW: Suggestive content (MDNI!!!), Reader is a deer demon like Alastor
âWhy would Alastor help me, of all people?âÂ
---
You think to yourself as hesitation slowly creeps in the back of your mind. The hand you had raised to knock on the door of Alastorâs room slowly lowered to your side as you thought over your current situation.Â
Relatively new to hell, you had just finally begun to familiarize yourself with the abrupt changes of your body and the instincts that came with it. Similarly to the radio demon, your form took on the characteristics of a deer: Fluffy ears sat upon your head and a matching tail on your backside reflected each and every change of emotion you took on. Up until now, the physical changes to your body were really only noted in those two areas, and if anything, your personality was drastically more affected. Your senses, heightened in your transition, forced you to become a little more aware of your surroundings, thus more cautious or even skittish depending on the situation.Â
At this point, you tried your best to stay low and out of sight, in fear of retaliation from the people around you. And in most cases, that thought process worked. Somehow you managed to survive long enough to make it to the Hazbin Hotel and become one of its beloved residents, on your quest for redemption. Things were going seemingly well, despite mostly keeping to yourself. You learned quickly that some residents were easier to get along with than others, and others, more so Alastor, set off your internal alarm system.Â
Despite your body yelling at you to run away from Alastorâs domain, you ignore the warnings in favor of dealing with your current problem. Your antlers were coming in. Of course they were, you were a deer after all. Reaching up to touch the currently small nubs on the top of your head, you immediately flinched. The feeling was foreign to you, hardly painful, but not quite pleasant either. Somewhere in the middle of overwhelmingly sensitive were your antlers and it only grew worse as they increased in size. The current problem? You didnât know what set them off to emerge. One minute youâre minding your business, the next you find yourself stuck somewhere in your room with various items hanging from your antlers.
You chew on your bottom lip weighing your options: You can keep running in circles, trying and failing to find some sort of solution to keeping your antlers suppressed or⊠you can seek guidance from the only other deer demon that you know, who also just so happens to be a master at keeping his composure. Before youâre able to make up your mind, the door in front of you swings open to reveal a smiling, yet somehow annoyed looking Alastor.
âHello, my dear! Exactly how long do you expect to linger in front of my room? You should know it is quite rude to mark in someone else's territory.â He comments, eyeing your panicked expression. âN-no! I wasnât, that wasnât my intention at all!â You blurted out, raising your hands in surrender. His narrowed eyes flicker upward towards your head, lingering for a moment before looking back at you. âHm. Your scent says otherwise.â He says matter of factly, nose crinkling in disgust.Â
The room suddenly feels considerably warmer as you feel the flush growing on your cheeks. Your mouth opens to defend yourself, but suddenly your antlers begin to rapidly grow in size. It takes everything in you not to cry out at the feeling, your lips pressing together to keep the noises inside. Catching him by surprise, Alastor reaches out with both hands to grab a hold of your antlers and forces you to your knees. âWhat on earth do you think you're doing?â He hisses, voice quickly turning into distorted static as he continues to hold you in that position, his antlers also emerging to challenge your own.Â
Well this is not how you anticipated this conversation to go. A whimper slips past your lips, partially in fear and partially in something else as he holds you firmly in place beneath him. You didnât account for Alastor potentially seeing you as a threat, his display of dominance made it very clear he wasnât aware of your intentions. Instead, he mistook your current state as blatant disrespect rather than a show of inexperience.
The fingers wrapped around your antlers had you gasping for air. Your entire body quickly lights up as the stifling feeling of heat flows through you. Your fight or flight response kicks in and you attempt to pull yourself away from him, instead falling straight on your back when he suddenly lets you go. The feeling of static fills the air as Alastor comes to hover over you, smile tightening menacingly.Â
âPlease, Iâm not here to fight! I don't want-, my antlers, I can't control them Alastor! I-I need your help! I was trying to ask for your help!â The words tumble from your mouth, flinching as he takes a step closer to you. He straightens up once you state your business and quickly shrinks down to his original form. âHah! Well, why didn't you start with that?â He laughs lightheartedly, both hands now resting on his extended microphone. You stare up at him in complete disbelief.
âThat would have saved us both a lot of trouble, you know⊠As for your antlers,â He leans over to inspect them closer, using a finger to trace the intricate patterns of them. âIn my experience they tend to be quite sensitive to your emotions, similarly to these.â He playfully tugs at one of your ears before pulling away, chuckling softly as you reach up to the area where he touched you.
âAnywayâŠâ he taps the inside of your thigh with his microphone, extremely close to the straining bulge in your pants. âCome find me once youâve dealt with this problem, then we can discuss your concerns for control. How does that sound?â
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor the radio demon#radio demon#the radio demon#alastor x male reader#weepingwillowwonder#alastor masterlist
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a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.
this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.
older pics
the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.
second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]
third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ
individual characters
peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end đ. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.
fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.
noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.
gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.
brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.
gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.
john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.
pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]
snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well
misc
there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry
i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it
anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p
and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')
#pizza tower#peppino spaghetti#fake peppino#gustavo and brick#the noise#noisette#pizzahead#arting#pizzaposting
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Unexpected Consequences (Danny Phantom One Shot)
Also on AO3
Inspired by and referencing the events of this comic by @lilianade-comics
By the time Danny Fenton was four, his parents have gone through all of the available babysitters in the entirety of Amity Park and Elmerton. Well, technically not all of them, but apparently, there is a critical percentage of babysitters scared half to death, at best, which makes all other babysitters turn you down no matter how high the pay.
Of course, in this case, the problem was with the house, not the kids, but the Fentons would not be convinced that their house is anything but the safest place for their children to be. What if a ghost came to the babysitterâs house? How would they defend themselves? Do ignore the fact that their own house was a magnet for ghosts, because thatâs exactly what they did.
And it brought them to him.
The last thing Vlad Masters expected to hear during his Thursday dinner was his phone ringing.
Well, that was not entirely the case. He was running a rather large company by then, and he was known to take after-hours calls. Not happily, but it wasnât as if he had any sort of life outside of work â not one that he could be open about, anyway â and with the global expansion of his enterprises in the last few years, sometimes people simply forgot about the existence of time zones.
He didnât expect to find his personal phone ringing. A small thing that he modified himself and was fairly certain only his mother and a certain annoying definitely licensed and absolutely not shady or paranormal in any way psychologist had the number for. This was neither of them.
He was sure Spectra would give the number to someone just to piss him off, but no living being (and very few dead ones) even knew of their connection. Which left his mother, whom he did instruct to not give the number to anyone, under any circumstances. Of course, telling a Masters to not do something was entirely pointless if said family member did actually want to do the thing.
He hoped to all Ancients his mother wasnât trying to set him up with some pretty single girl or a recently divorced single mother from her church again.
And while that prayer had been answered, it was much like making a wish to Desiree â somehow worse than the thing he wanted to avoid.
On the other end of the line was Jack fucking Fenton.
It took considerable willpower to not immediately crush the phone and burn the remains to nothing. He did, however, transform before Jack even finished the first sentence.
What ghost wouldnât get defensive, hearing the voice of their ghostmaker, for the first time after a decade of silence, talking cheerfully and excitedly? Like he hadnât killed him with his impatience. Like he hadnât left him to rot. Like he didnât turn him into an abomination. Like no time had passed. Like nothing had changed.
How dare he talk like that? How dare he ask for favors?
His ghost half may have been the more emotional one, but there was also a level of confidence and power that it brought. Things that he was going to need if he was to talk to Jack Fenton and not let the oaf know anything was wrong. He was fairly certain the man wouldnât notice either way, but there was no way to know when Madeline could be listening in.
Jack â no, both of them â were asking for a favor. They needed someone to babysit their kids.
Vlad was vaguely aware the two of them had produced two children â the thought of Jackâs clumsy hands anywhere near Madeline made him see red every time â focus, Vlad.
It seemed the couple had bought a haunted broadcast tower to work in and had transformed it into a livable house (or so they claimed). Unfortunately, it seemed that while the ghosts haunting the tower steered clear of the Fentons, babysitters had no such luck, and neither did their kids â though they taught the kids basics of ghost defense (Vlad didnât know much about kids, but he was fairly certain ghost fighting skills of any sort were not standard curriculum for four and six-year-olds).
It took Vlad a considerable effort to not send Jack to hell and tell him that itâs their own fault. He thought of Madeline. They were her children too.
Of all the plans he had come up with, of all the ways he considered wooing her, this was not one that had come to him before. Things have changed. They werenât in college anymore. His Madeline was a mother, now.
Perhaps all he needed was to show Madeline that he was a better parent than Jack Fenton. It couldnât be that hard, right?
***
If you told Vlad Masters the day he (run from) left the hospital that there would come a day when the love he felt for Madeline was going to be but a distant echo or that he would love children sired by Jack Fenton as if they were his own, he would probably laugh at you.
If you said to him the day he received the notice of the birth of their first child, that he would one day destroy any creature that would even dare to look at her meanly, that he would endure any pain, put himself between any weapon and this child, he might have blasted you to pieces. He would endure. But she was so human. So fragile.
If you told him the day he found out about their second child that one day, that the child would be the first human to find out his secret, he might have just flown over and throttled the baby in its cradle, just to be safe, and felt exactly zero remorse about the action. Nobody would ever know. Babies die all the time. Especially with parents like his.
If you told him the day he received that fateful phone call that one day, he would be the first to hold Danny Fenton after his death, the only way he would imagine such a scenario happening would be he was the one to kill the boy. Why else would he hold Jack Fentonâs son?
If you told him, any time in those 18 years between his transformation and today, that the Fentons would make their own child a halfa with their negligence, he would have nodded along. Perhaps he would have even been excited about finally having someone be like him, someone he could teach, someone who would share the hate every ghost feels for their ghostmaker for Jack Fenton. It didnât surprise him â they never changed in that way. And if there was some excitement, when he found out, he could never imagine how much it would hurt.
If you had told him how much the second fateful call would hurt, what emotions it would ignite with him, how irreversibly it would alter him, he would have never picked up the first one.
But he picked up both and there was no going back.
***
Dannyâs hands were shaking as he carefully put in the numbers into the phone.
He felt so stupid. He knew it was stupid. He knew it, and he did it anyway.
And for what?
He had been so proud when his parents left him alone at home for the whole weekend for the first time, when Jazz convinced them to take a campus tour at one of her top choices for a university.
She was sixteen for godâs sake, she had so much time for that stuff.
So, of course he invited his friends over. Of course his techno geek and goth best friends wanted to see the stupid ghost lab his parents had in the basement.
Of course they dared him to go into the ghost portal. It wasnât working. Danny knew that. He also knew it was dangerous. If he could avoid touching any of his parentsâ stupid invention for the rest of his life, he would. Which was kinda hard when half of the house counted as one of those inventions.
They called him a coward.
Tucker was one to talk. He was afraid of hospitals for no good reason. Danny could name about a hundred reasons why messing with his parentsâ tech or ghosts was a bad idea. It didnât bother him that Tucker called him a coward. They were losers and cowards and that was one of the reasons they were friends in the first place. Okay, maybe it bothered him a little, but he would never admit that.
Sam, though, it hurt from her. The girl seemed to not be afraid of anything and she was fascinated by all things strange and dark. All the things that pissed off her parents. And as much as Danny told himself she was a friend and he didnât want to make it weird, anyone with eyes could see the giant crush he had on her.
Sam wasnât afraid of anything. And even though he could name all those reasons for why he shouldnât do it, why they shouldnât be in the lab at all, why he just wanted to spend the weekend playing videogames and raiding his dadâs snack hideouts and why thatâs exactly what they should do, none of those words came to mind as Sam goaded him.
He never asked to have a weird family. He just wanted to be normal and deal with just the normal kid problems. He just wanted his friends to understand that unlike them, he wasnât a weirdo by choice.
Maybe he snapped at them a little. Maybe he raised his voice a little. Maybe he called them just as shallow and image-obsessed as the A-listers. Maybe he called them boring and attention seeking. Maybe he cursed them out a little.
Maybe a lot more than little.
And they left.
He sat in the living room, watching the clock, alone.
Of course he was alone. He yelled at his only friends.
And for what?
Maybe they were right. Maybe he was just a coward. The portal wasnât working. How dangerous could it be?
As the minutes ticked by and he felt worse and worse about what he did, he got up and headed back into the lab.
He put on one of the small hazmat suits his parents had for him. He had meticulously torn off and threw out all of the stupid patches with his dadâs face that the self-obsessed mad scientist put on them, months ago, in the off chance he was forced to wear one outside or near a camera. He knew that Sam would mock him for it. But with his parents inventions, heâd rather be safe than sorry. Or dead. Or worse â a ghost.
The thought terrified him. If his parents were to be believed, ghosts were nothing more than echoes of human minds, twisted, either entirely animalistic or evil. Monsters, wearing the face of the dead.
He didnât even believe in ghosts. He had memories of them from when he was a kid, but they could have just been dreams. With how much their parents talked about the stuff, of course his mind would haunt him (ha!) with them in his sleep.
He realized Sam had left her new camera on the table. She had shown him and Tucker how to operate it a few weeks earlier when she bought it.
Danny turned it on, started recording and left it on one of the tables, pointed at the portal.
âHey, Sam, Tucker⊠hereâs to show you Iâm not a coward. Iâm sorry for yelling at you earlier.â
He waved at the camera, took a deep breath and stepped into the portal.
It didnât work. How dangerous could it be?
How dangerous could it be?
He couldnât get that thought out of his head as he stumbled out of the portal. It hurt. It hurt so much. And he wasnât himself. Not anymore.
Twisted monster wearing his own face. A monster his parents would probably hunt and tear apart for stealing his face, for stealing their child away from them.
He sat on the couch and cried. He wished so much to just be himself again.
He couldnât be dead, right? Everything hurt. He couldnât be dead. Ghosts didnât feel pain.
He looked at his arm, at the formerly black glove, now snow white.
He just wanted to be himself againâŠ
He watched as white light appeared, first around his waist and then travelling along the rest of his body, turning him back into himself.
But his parents said ghosts could sometimes pose as living humans.
He felt his heart beating in his chest, now.
He couldnât be dead if his heart was beating, right?
It didnât just moments ago.
The rings.
A memory came up. A memory he dismissed as another dream.
He must have been really small, one of the first times uncle Vlad was watching him and Jazz. He was making smoothies in the middle of the night.
Danny wanted to see what was going on and he saw uncle Vlad, with those same rings around him. His normally silver hair seemed pitch black, before the black rings swept across him and turned him into his normal self. He was too young to have gray hair even now, and more so then. His parents explained that it was because of an accident back when they were in college. And accident with a portal prototypeâŠ
Vlad gave him candy to promise to never tell anyone what he saw that night. Danny did very distinctly remember eating it all at once, because he was a four-year-old given an irresponsible amount of candy, and how sick he wound up being after.
He thought the whole thing was just a dream. And maybe it was.
When he looked at his hand, he couldnât see it. He still felt it there, it still made a dent in the couch pillow, but it was invisible.
Something was very, very wrong and he needed to solve it before his parents got home.
And there was only one person that might have the answers.
He called uncle Vlad.
***
Vlad told him to not panic.
That was easier said than done.
He tried to. He tried to keep himself occupied. He took off the stupid hazmat suit.
He other him was still wearing his.
He wanted to watch the TV, but after the remote phased through his hand and fell beneath the couch, he gave up on that.
He could just go to bed. Vlad lived a few states over. It would take him a few hours to arrive.
Maybe he would wake up in the morning and find out it was just a bad dream.
It couldnât be. Bad dreams donât hurt.
Most of the pain had faded by now, though he still felt sore, especially in his own body. The other him didnât hurt that much â but Danny was scared if he fell asleep in that body, he would never wake up. Not as himself anyway.
He was staring at the living room ceiling as the sun set outside. His whole body felt numb. He was tired, but in a different way than needing to sleep. He didnât have the energy to get up and turn on the lights.
As the darkness crept up more and more, he realized that he could see in the dark a lot better than he did before.
He felt cold, he realized. Not horribly so, just barely colder than would be comfortable.
Cold like the dead.
A horrible thought crossed his mind.
His parents said ghosts could possess human bodies. Maybe he was already dead, his body growing cold slowly, but he just refused to leave it.
Maybe if he closed his eyes, he would never wake up. He could just let go.
Uncle Vlad would arrive in the morning and find his dead body, laying here on the couch.
A shiver run down his spine, and he would swear a cloud of mist escaped his lips.
Maybe it was just cold in the house, and he was freaking out over nothing.
Then, the light turned on.
He jumped up to see who did it.
Uncle Vlad stood by the door leading from the kitchen, looking him up and down.
It took Danny a moment to realize he was floating and that he didnât have legs.
Instead, there was a wisp-like tail, moving with a mind of its own.
He may or may not have screamed in shock and moments later, he was back to his old self and hit the couch.
He poked his leg. Solid. Normal.
He gulped and looked up at uncle Vlad.
âDannyâŠâ the man whispered. Danny knew his uncle. His voice was always comforting. It was now, too. But there was something else, that he couldnât put a finger on. Vlad breathed in as if he wanted to say something, but he didnât.
He sat down next to Danny and pulled him into a hug.
Uncle Vlad was always warm. Too warm. And he was always super weird about it. But right now, Danny felt the chill that had plagued him since he stepped out of that stupid portal melt away. For the first time since that scream left his throat, he still felt it hurt, he felt like he could breathe properly.
For a moment, it didnât matter what happened, or if he was some kind of monster now. He felt safe.
He began to cry. He cried into Vladâs stupid fancy suit, because the man apparently didnât own any other clothes.
He felt his body tingle the same way it did when he dropped the remote and he feared he would slip from Vladâs grasp. But he didnât.
âIf you donât want to hug, you can just say that.â Vlad muttered.
Danny sniffled and looked up at him. âWhat⊠what do you mean?â
âIntangibility. But I think you didnât do it on purpose, did you?â
âI⊠I donât know.â Danny admitted. He didnât want to let go, but he felt like a baby sobbing into his uncleâs chest like that. Vlad run his fingers through Dannyâs hair.
âItâs okay. It takes time to learn to control it.â Vlad said. âAnd Iâll help you in any way I can, little badger.â
âDo you⊠do you know whatâŠâ Danny paused, looking for words, unsure of which question to ask first. âWhat happened to me?â
Vlad seemed to have just as hard of a time finding words.
âAm I dead?â Danny whispered after a moment.
Vlad sighed. âYes. But youâre also alive.â Vlad run his hand along Dannyâs left arm, where he still felt echoes of the electricity that went through it not so long ago. The electricity that killed him. Vlad let go of him and moved away. Danny didnât want to let go. He didnât want to go back to the cold. âI want to show you something.â
âOh⊠okay.â Danny muttered, letting.
Vlad took Dannyâs hand and placed it over his own heart. Then, he laid his own over the center of Dannyâs chest, where the cold was coming from.
âLike this, weâre still alive. Our hearts are beating. We need to breathe. We need to eat and sleep like any other human.â Vlad paused for a moment. âCan you transform?â
âI think so.â Danny nodded. He had tried turning back and forth a few times while waiting for Vlad. All it took was a thought.
Vlad turned, too.
If he looked closely, he could still recognize his uncle. The shape of the nose and face, the stupid goatee. But if he didnât look for his uncle, he probably wouldnât see it. The ghost had blue skin, red eyes with no whites or pupils, pointed ears and when Vlad spoke, Danny could see sharp fangs glint inside of his mouth. Even the shape of the body was different â mom said uncle Vlad had never fully recovered from his accident and the resulting hospital stay. It seemed that the ghost half of him had no such problem, and probably much more resembled the shape the man had been back then. And if his human body had been a little too warm, this one was basically a walking space-heater.
âLike this, no heartbeat.â Vlad whispered. âNo need to breathe and no need to eat human food, either.â
âWhat about sleep?â
âUnless youâre in the ghost zone, yes.â Vlad nodded. âBut you canât stay in one form for too long. If you stay human for too long and donât use any of your powers, they will simply happen on their own, whether you want it or not. And if you stay as a ghost for too long, your human body will weaken.â
âWill it go away?â
âNo. This is you, now.â Vlad sighed. âBut youâre not alone in this. Iâll teach you. Iâll help you.â
Vlad turned back to his human form again and Danny followed suit. He could now name the feeling that happened when he did. The suddenly loud thump of his heart, the need to breathe.
âWhat was that⊠tail thing?â Danny asked. It had been bothering him the whole time.
âSometimes, ghosts do that, when weâre flying. Not all and not always, but it does make flying a little more effective.â
âAm I a monster, now? Mom and dad said all ghosts are monsters.â
âYour mom and dad are too obsessed with being right that they get a lot of things wrong about ghosts. Ghost are much like people. Some good, some bad, and most just kind of in-between.â Vlad said. âThey are⊠different, though. Their society, their rules and traditions, itâs very different from human ones.â
âWhy do I need to know that? Iâm not planning on hanging out with any ghosts⊠except you, I mean.â
âSome of those customs and values are inherent to being a ghost. It will not be right away, but your view on those things will likely change to a more⊠ghost-like one.â Vlad explained. âBut weâll cross that bridge when we get there.â
âVlad⊠do mom and dad know about you? What you are?â
Danny saw Vladâs eyes flash red. He had seen it before, though he was sure he was imagining things. Often whenever his accident was brought up. Or when dad said something stupid and insensitive â so most of the time dad talked.
âNo.â Vlad said after a moment. âNo, they donât know what I am. And they must never find out about either of us. Nobody living can.â
âWhy? I mean⊠yeah, they are ghost hunters, but Iâm still their son and youâre still their friend.â
âAre we? Or are we monsters wearing stealing their faces?â Vlad shook his head. âYour parents have very hard time accepting they were wrong about something. What you are⊠what we are⊠goes against all of that, all that they think they know. You might be right. Maybe their love for you is stronger than their stubbornness. And maybe it is not. Itâs better we never find out.â Vlad sighed, pulling Danny closer to himself again, seeing the boy shivering again. âAnd they are not the only ghost hunters out there. Even if they do accept us, the others would not be so forgiving. We must be careful to not leave any evidence of what we are.â
âThe camera.â Danny exclaimed suddenly.
âWhat camera?â
âI⊠I was recording myself when I went into the portal. I wanted to show my friends I was not a coward.â God, he felt even dumber saying that out-loud.
âIs it still in the lab?â
âI think so.â Danny nodded. Vlad stood up and headed there immediately. Danny followed him.
He always knew Vlad seemed to make no sound while he moved. For the first time, Danny understood how.
âHigh ectoplasm can mess with electronics. If weâre lucky, the recording doesnât show anything.â Vlad muttered, seemingly talking more to himself than Danny. The camera was still recording while he picked it up. That was not a good sign.
Vlad began to watch the playback of the video. Danny cringed at the awkward intro he did. And then, moments later, a piercing scream echoed through the lab. Danny felt a sharp stab in his chest at the sound. Even through the recording, it was awful.
Vladâs features seemed to be made out of stone, but somehow, Danny was certain the man was furious. As the figure of ghost Danny emerged from the portal, Vlad closed the camera and his palm erupted in magenta flames.
Danny stepped back.
âYou could have just deleted the video.â
âThere are ways to recover deleted videos. This is more certain.â Vlad said, the poured the charred dust from his hand into the hazardous waste disposal. When some of it refused to come off, Danny watched Vladâs hand change â it seemed almost like static on a TV, but in real life. Vladâs hand was now perfectly clean. âIâll buy you a new camera.â
âIt was Samâs actually.â
âIâll buy her a new camera.â Vlad corrected himself.
âCan you teach me how to do that?â Danny asked.
âIt will not be possible right away, but once your core settles a bit, it should come naturally.â Vlad nodded. âI promise, Iâll teach you everything I know. But first, dinner. Iâm sure you have a million more questions. You can ask them while I cook.â
***
Vlad Masters was not a father. Not that he knew of, anyway.
And Vlad Plasmius wouldnât even consider exposing himself to such a weakness.
But cores are as fickle as they are stubborn.
Vlad wasnât Dannyâs father, and perhaps in a different lifetime, that would have mattered to him.
It didnât in this one.
It mattered that the boy he had watched grow up was dead, because of his parentsâ negligence.
It mattered that he was alive, stuffing his face full of pasta, badgering him with questions about a subject he had no interest in until that day.
By human law, he was the boyâs godfather and the assigned guardian, should something happen to his parents, just as he was for his sister. Some days, he was tempted to make something happen. Today was one of those days. But he looked at Danny, remembered the conviction with which he claimed his parents would accept him, both of them, even as the abominations they both were now. The boy would mourn. The boy would break. The boy loved his parents, because he was a child and thatâs what they do. It was for that look, that conviction, that Vlad held back the inferno rising through his body. The Fentons were lucky their son Remained â had that scream in the portal truly been the boyâs final breath, Vlad knew there would be no holding back.
By ghost rules, however, the boy was his child. Nobody, living or dead, had a greater claim to Danny than he did. Danny couldnât understand it yet, but the trust he had put in Vlad, the love he held for him, and whatever it was that Vlad felt for the boy in return, had bonded their cores. Perhaps the boy would never realize â his core was so soft and new when the bond formed and would be such a natural part of it by the time Danny would start to understand his core that he wouldnât even notice it.
Vlad wasnât sure what he felt for Danny could be called love in the human sense, but after ten years of fighting it, he knew it would be recognized as such by ghosts. Ghost love was like that. Possessive, obsessive, a powerful and unbreakable bond, built on strength and devotion.
Danny was his.
He had let go of his old obsession long ago, perhaps on that fateful night, but he knew the parts of him that still clung to the rage of death would rest easier from now on. In the battle between himself and his ghostmaker, he had won.
#danny phantom#vlad plasmius#badger cereal#fanfiction#angst#for full warnings look at the AO3 version
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until it doesn't hurt
pairing: Bruce Banner/Reader
readerâs pronouns: they/them
the reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no physical descriptors are used.
summary: âI couldâve caused you irreversible harm,â Bruce says. Itâs almost a practiced recitation at this point, and you have to wonder if he truly believes thatâor if heâs just been conditioned by everyone around him to believe he is only capable of inflicting pain. âYou didnât,â you maintain, for what feels like the thousandth time. Bruce is so caught up in the hypotheticals that he refuses to see the success right in front of him: the fact that he didnât so much as lay a finger on you.
word count: 2.9k | ao3 version
warnings: canon-typical violence
Being an Avenger means you have to be ready for anything at all times. That spontaneity is difficult to adjust to at first, but as time passes, you grow used to it. You grow used to sleeping lightly; to stashing weapons just about anywhere you can keep them; to having few restful days and many restless ones. The moment your powers manifested, you knew you would be a hero: not because you wanted to be one, but because it would be your responsibility to protect those who needed protecting.Â
You werenât always an Avenger. At first, you were just a rogueâkind of a vigilante. But then the attack on New York happenedâLoki happenedâand everything flew out the window. Suddenly, you were out on the street in broad daylight, trying your best to keep the civilians safe. That was how you crashed into Iron Man of all people. You exchanged banter and insults, but when it came down to it, you protected him, and he protected you. And Tony is extremely persistentâit didnât take long for him to sink his claws into you and drag you back to the Avengers Tower.Â
From there, you gradually get to know the other Avengers. Steve and Clint are relatively friendly right off the bat. Natasha is a bit more difficultâyou have to earn her trust before she starts to open up to you. But eventually, somehow, you manage to bond with all of the other occupants of the Tower. At least, all of them except Bruce Banner.Â
Bruce is an interesting case. He almost immediately dismissed you when Tony first introduced you, instead deigning to focus on his experiments. You hadnât taken offense to Bruceâs reclusive behavior, nor had you taken the hint that he didnât want to get to know you. Instead, you had all but forced him to acknowledge you. This manifested in a multitude of ways: from going out of your way to talk to him to offering to help with his research. Bruce is extremely protective of his laboratory, but somehow he deemed you capable enough to serve as his laboratory assistant. You were more than content to hand him capsules and adjust minor things, while he did the brunt of the work. You took the gifted opportunities to attempt to get to know him better. At first, it was like speaking to a brick wall. But somewhere along the way, his cold and uncaring façade began to crack. You slowly worked your way up to meaningless small talkâand, later, casual conversation.
Truthfully, you really enjoy spending time with Bruce. But heâs rather unpredictableâsometimes heâll push you away, and other times heâll play along. You know that he has a lot of baggageâwhat with his childhood and his alter-ego. Youâve been trying to convince him that you care about himâthat youâre not going to abandon him or villainize himâbut he doesnât ever seem to believe you. He always conducts himself with some semblance of suspicion and doubt; it almost seems like heâs waiting for you to wake up to reality and run away screaming.
Still, progress is progressâno matter how slow. Youâre happy with how youâve slowly bonded with him, and you can only hope that thereâs more on the horizon for the both of you.Â
âŠYou never consider the possibility that something could happen to make things worseâto destroy your progress and send you right back to the start.Â
âWe need you for something.â
Youâre brutally torn from your reverie, forced to slowly come back to yourself. Youâre sitting in the living room, staring ahead at the blank wall. How long have you been sitting here? All you know is that itâs no longer light outside, and that Natasha is standing in front of you with a firm expression.Â
âI- what?â You stammer, still processing whatâs happening. âNat-â
âItâs important,â she says. You get to your feet before she can continue speaking. âTrust me.â You do trust her. Natasha isnât one for over-exaggeration or dramatics; when she says something is important, she means it. And the grave expression on her face is only worrying you more. You follow after her as she walks down the hall and towards the elevators. The two of you step into the space and she presses a button, before the elevator slowly rises.Â
In hindsight, perhaps you shouldâve been a bit more suspicious. Why would she be taking you to another floor in the Tower? Typically, when thereâs a new development or an imminent threat, youâll be directed to another locationâeither to combat the threat or to strategize. Furthermore, thereâs a strained silence in the air between Natasha and you. Natâs shoulders are drawn tight and sheâs staring ahead pointedly, as if avoiding your eyes.Â
The elevator dings and you breathe an internal sigh of relief, hoping to get rid of this needless tension. But before you can begin to take a step, youâre being roughly shoved out of the elevator and into the hallway. It takes you several moments to get your bearingsâat which point you recognize the telltale sounds of the doors behind you closing, and the elevator dropping back down to where you came. You stare at the closed doors in disbelief, before turning to look back down the hall. One of the recreational rooms is straight ahead, and you hear yelling.Â
Once youâre standing in the doorway, youâre able to place the inexplicable noises you were hearing. Bruce is in his Hulk form, green and raging as he throws anything within his grasp at the walls around him. Youâre willing to bet Natasha brought you here to do something about this. Why she thinks youâre the best person to calm Bruce down, youâre not sure.Â
âBruce,â you say slowly. Bruce promptly freezes, an exercise machine lifted over his head. He stares down at you; you stare up at him. Heâs momentarily distracted by you. âItâs okay.â Heâs silent. You hold your hands out at your sides in mock surrender. âIâm not here to hurt you,â you continue. âYouâre safe.â
Silence. You take a slow breath. The machine heâs holding over his head drops a fraction of an inch.Â
âItâs okay, Bruce.â You repeat, pushing as much conviction into your voice as you can. Your effort seems to work, as his eyebrows furrow. For a moment, thereâs nothing but silence as the two of you stare at each other. Then, his visage shifts and youâre suddenly looking at Bruce Bannerâdisheveled and exhausted.
âAre you alright-?â Youâre compelled to ask. The scientist is back in human form, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of pants; bruises and scratches litter his skin; and thereâs a distant expression on his face. He seems to snap out of his trance when he hears your voice.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â Bruce then spits. You immediately flinch at the unexpected anger. âSeriously, what the fuck are you doing here?â His gaze is flitting about the room quickly, before settling on you with fevered intensity. Youâve never seen Bruce look so irate before. Heâs a remarkably composed man (although you suspect he bottles up anger and rage and lets it out in bursts as the Hulk). Indeed, this kind of fury is typical for the Hulk, but exceedingly rare for Bruce.Â
âI didnât-â You choke out helplessly, glancing back at the hall and, by extension, the elevator. âThey-â Itâs inexplicably difficult for you to get the words out.Â
âThat was our doing.â A voice confesses from behind you. You turn around to find Nat and Tony standing behind you. The two of them approach and come to a stop at your side.Â
Bruceâs gaze locks on them with fiery focus. He brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. His glasses are nowhere to be seenâhe mustâve dropped them somewhere as he transformed. âI expected better from both of you.â
âBruce-â Tony tries to say, an apologetic expression on his face.Â
âWhat on earth made you think that throwing them out as bait was a good idea?â Bruce interjects furiously, motioning towards you. âYou couldâve gotten them seriously injured!â He exclaims. Tony has the good grace to look embarrassed; Nat is staring ahead with a flat expression and her arms crossed over her chest.
âBruce, Iâm fine-â You try to say, quickly growing uncomfortable with the tension settling in the air.Â
âI couldâve harmed you,â Bruce is quick to assert. âEasily.â His voice is cold.Â
âBut you didnât,â you maintain. Heâs not giving himself enough credit. More troubling is the idea that he has faith in his own crueltyâthat he only sees himself as capable of harming someone. You donât know what else to say, donât know what could possibly be said to repair the evident years of damage done to this manâs psyche. The entire world has treated him as a weapon at best and an uncontrollable, irredeemable monster at worst.
âThat doesnât matter,â Bruce says with unshakeable certainty. He retreats from the room, leaving you to stare after him in confusion and shock. You turn to face Natasha and Tony, who are both staring at the doorway with complex looks.Â
You want to tell them off, but the words that leave your lips are far different than you intend them to be. âShould I go after him?â You ask instead. Bruce is the primary concern right nowâyou can chew Tony and Nat out later. Youâve known him for a bit now, and have grown to interpret his expressions fairly easily. Youâve seen Bruce express a lot of emotions⊠but the look on his face just now is completely foreign to you.Â
âProbably,â Tony admits.Â
âI donât think we should,â Natasha says, motioning towards Tony and herself. âHeâs mad at us. And⊠rightfully so.â She exchanges a glance with Tony, whose lips are pressed in a thin line. Itâs clear they didnât give enough thought to their whole plan.Â
âYouâll be fine, though,â Tony says with unfounded conviction. Nat places a hand on your shoulder and grips it reassuringly. You take a deep breath and come to a decision, walking down the hall and towards the elevator doors.Â
Moments later, youâre walking out of the lift and down the dim hallway leading to Bruceâs bedroom. Heâs entirely alone on this floor of the tower. You pause in front of his door for a few seconds, wondering if you should walk away. But you canât. Instead, you knock on the door four times. âBruce?â You ask. Despite the clear sturdiness of the door, heâs able to hear you.Â
âGo away.â Bruce responds. His voice is a little muffled, and you have to strain to hear him.Â
Youâre hurt for the briefest of moments. Then you shelve the feeling and resolve yourself to tackling it later. âIâm coming in,â you announce, placing your hand against the scanner at the edge of the doorway. The scanner flashes green and the door slides open, revealing Bruceâs bedroom. Youâve never been here before. Itâs modestly decorated, with mostly monotone shades. Nothing particularly strikes you, save for the giant desk in the corner of the room. Papers litter the entire surface of the desk, and a few are covered by Bruceâs arms.Â
The man doesnât look up as you approach. âI donât want to see you,â Bruce says. His back is turned and youâre unable to see his expression.Â
âI donât care,â you respond, taking a few steps into the space until youâre a short (yet seemingly insurmountable) distance from Bruce. Heâs sitting at his desk, rubbing his hands over his eyes roughly. It doesnât take long for you to remember your guilt. âBruce, I donât want you to torture yourself over this.â Maybe you shouldnât have interfered in the first place.Â
âI couldâve caused you irreversible harm,â Bruce says. Itâs almost a practiced recitation at this point, and you have to wonder if he truly believes thatâor if heâs just been conditioned by everyone around him to believe he is only capable of inflicting pain.Â
âYou didnât,â you maintain, for what feels like the thousandth time. Bruce is so caught up in the hypotheticals that he refuses to see the success right in front of him: the fact that he didnât so much as lay a finger on you.Â
âNo, I donât think you understand,â Bruce says with a shake of his head. He pushes himself out of his chair and gets to his feet, turning around to face you. Your eyes widen as you notice the torn expression on his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the determination written in every line of his form. âMy eyes locked onto you and, for a split second, I envisioned harming you. Deliberately.â The confession clings to the air like a vice.Â
âBut you didnât act on that impulse,â you assert. âYou suppressed it.âÂ
âSo?â Bruce argues. âI still had the urge. You should be disgusted, afraid-âÂ
âIâm not afraid of you, Bruce,â you interrupt. The statement lingers heavily in the air between the two of you. For a long moment, thereâs nothing but the faint hum youâve grown to associate with the Tower itself. Â
âYou should be,â Bruce then mutters. And suddenly heâs standing in front of you, staring at you with a dark gaze. His fists are clenched at his sides and you see his skin flicker with shades of green, before it returns to normal. The man maneuvers you to the side and shoves you, until youâre hitting the wall behind you. Bruceâs hands move up to your shirt collar and he clenches at it, his fingers almost spasming as he tightens his grip. You just stare at him. âI could ruin you.â He murmurs, so quietly that you have to strain to hear it.Â
You want to argue with him so badly, but that strategy hasnât been working so far. For some reason, Bruce has convinced himself that he not only has the capacity to hurt you, but that he wants to. You know that canât be true, but how can you convince him? If he thinks he can ruin you⊠âThen do it,â you challenge him. He meets your eyes once more and you stare back unflinchingly, trying to convey how much you trust him.Â
If you thought the tension was suffocating before, itâs practically ripping the breath from your lungs now. Everything around you seems to fade into obscurity. All you can see is Bruce; all you can feel is Bruce. His fingers twitch and his grip falls from your collar. For an awful moment, you think heâs going to walk awayâturn his back on you as he has done so many times before. But he doesnât. Instead, he leans closer. If heâs trying to get you to back down, then it isnât working.Â
At first, you want to think that Bruce is testing you. But the way heâs regarding you right nowâwith glittering desire in his eyesâmakes you think otherwise. His hands move from the wall to your shoulders, back to the nape of your neck, until he gently tugs you forward. Itâs hardly a strong pull, and you understand the choice heâs giving you.Â
But, you think fondly, there was never much of a choice. From the moment you locked eyes with him, you knew he would dominate your thoughts. And indeed, he has. You think about the hard-won look of approval in his eyes when you make an astute observation; the way he almost frantically looks across the battlefield, his posture instantly relaxing once he sees you; the contradictions written all over his skin; the rare smiles you feel privileged to see.Â
You lean forward and press your lips to his. Bruce is quick to reciprocate, his hands lingering at the nape of your neck before slipping down to your waist. You lock your arms around his shoulders, practically trapping him in your embrace. But from the strength of his grip, you can ascertain that the gesture is more than welcome.Â
Later, when you break apart, Bruce has a disbelieving expression on his face. He looks slightly dazed, as if suspicious of the reality he now finds himself in. You grasp his wrist gently.Â
âYou canât get rid of me, Bruce,â You murmur insistently, â...no matter how hard you try.â
He stares at you for another long moment. âAnd I have tried,â Bruce admits through a dry huff. You want to be offended by the comment, but you know itâs true. Bruce is stupidly self-sacrificingâhe purposefully keeps his distance from people to protect them. But the reality of the situation is that people will come to harm regardless of his presence. âBut youâre too stubborn.â That statement is spoken with a significant amount of fondness, and his hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You bring your hand up to rest on top of his.Â
âIâll always be here, even when you donât want me to be.â You promise. And maybe that promise isnât yours to make, because one can never truly predict what will come next. But somehow, deep down, you know it to be true.Â
Bruce brings you close once more, an uncharacteristic note of boldness in the fluid movement. When you step back moments later, you find that he has a hint of a smile on his face. âI know,â Bruce says, the traces of apprehension on his face breaking and cracking to reveal a rare sight: unrestrained affection.
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#defectivevillain#marvel#mcu#marvel x reader#mcu x reader#marvel x gn reader#gn reader#transmasc reader#Bruce Banner x reader#Bruce Banner x gn reader#yall get the idea#wanna cover all the bases
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Oh don't tell me... you are f*cking my ex?!
(crack, not-fic, jaytim with past timsteph) Talking with friends about how a friend - who was into jaytim and was a tim fan before he was even registered in my radar - unintentionally got me into jaytim; but then he moved on pretty much as I came in and now he has to put up with me and my never-ending duck giggling butt emojis. Or how he eloquently put it: "I'm literally like a tragic dramatic irony mythical Greek MC, just a plaything of fate" Anyway, I remembered this vague idea and then this took shape:
No-capes AU in which Tim was never adopted by Bruce, but the rest (including Steph and Jason) were. Jason is very protective of his family, especially his sisters. And yes, Steph is a gremlin and gets in trouble more often than not, but damn it no one messes with his sister.
Tim and Steph started dating during mid-school; Tim tends to be asked out more often than not and he has trouble saying no. Often times he does not feel truly attracted to anyone; but he does not want to be seen as uptight or impolite or worse... questioned. He often accepts his dates until eventually they get bored of him. Steph was a change of pace of him and at some point he genuinely was feeling attraction to her; but maybe not to the extent she deserved. She asked him out and was always the one initiating anything, and he'd often go along with it. She was amazing, full of life, funny and so pretty; Tim didn't know what exactly she saw in him. However, she'd quickly notice his lack of enthusiasm/interest and often they'd fight. Why say yes when you aren't truly into it? They were on and off for a year until they broke things off for real. Jason of course hated Tim's guts; be that way whatever, but making his sister cry and mistreating her was a different story. After breaking up, Tim tried to reach out to Steph later, to try and explain himself better and be honest with her. She deserved that much. Except Jason found him before Tim could reach his sister; punched him hard enough to send him off-balance, grabbed him and pushed him against the wall to make it very clear he should not get near his sister again or else... (and Tim was scared to shit because danger danger but also creepily turned on when Jason grabbed him and raised him off the floor so easily. He needs to consult a therapist as to why Jason threatening turned him on and somehow that started his bi awakening) Eventually Steph and Tim moved on with their lives, continue dating other people, and given that they still have friends they reconnect, reminiscence of the past and talk it out. They also eventually come out and bond over both being bi. Fast forward years later, neither Tim or Jason had seen each other again; but Tim stays in touch with Steph. Tim is a well known editor at a big publisher and Jay is an aspiring book writer. Steph had given Tim her brother's original novel draft and he actually loved it. Steph: So, remember my brother Jason? Tim: Your hot brother who kicked my ass in front of half the school hates my guts? how could I forget. Steph: Yeah! He is the one who wrote this fabulous piece. Think you can help him? Tim *internally trying not to scream because what are the odds*: ...Sure. If he agrees to meet, I have time tomorrow. But you better be there, in case he remembers he told me not to get near you. I fear for my life. Steph: Don't be dramatic, he probably doesn't even remember you.
---- Steph: Sooo... I have a friend who is an editor at X publisher. He read your work and loved it. He actually thinks it has high chances to be published. Jason: Really? Steph: Yeah! Told him we could meet with him tomorrow for coffee and go over the details. Jason: Wait who is this friend? Do I know him? Steph: Well... remember this boyfriend I had back in mid-school... Jason, as he stops what he is doing, turns to Steph and glares: The one I hit and pushed against the wall and told to never get near you ever again? That one? Steph: Yes! Jason: Wait, he got actually near you again? *starts cracking knuckles* Steph: Yes, but not that way! I wouldn't take that human disaster for a ride and I'd pity anyone who'd date him. Plus I'm perfect with Cass, thank you very much. But we made peace long time ago and we've been good friends since. I'm sure he doesn't hold grudges, after all he knows the work is yours and had no trouble! It's been years, we have all grown up and moved on.
Jason: Fine. ---- The meeting was awkward at the beginning (especially due to Jason's perpetual scowl) but Tim is clearly very professional and jumps right into business. They exchange contact information. It's clear Tim genuinely likes Jason's work. He puts a lot of effort in navigating Jason through the process, giving detailed comments/notes and Jason is happy to see someone catching on the little details and talk excitedly about them. May not be much but internally he is preening. They start meeting often for coffee, at first they'd talk more about work rather than chitchat and then their meetings started evolving into less work and more random talk, getting to know each other. Sometimes they don't finish talking about the book because they got too distracted. Tim opens up about his teen years, how he was (and still is) too dumb for relationships. He didn't know better but as he matured he learned to accept himself. Jason realizes Tim wasn't that bad of a guy as he thought; just someone making mistakes, learning and growing.
Tim finds he hasn't enjoyed someone's company in a while. He has dated guys before and has matured enough to be better and accept what he wants. But as years went by he poured himself into work and has been so busy, he doesn't exactly have lasting relationships so he stopped altogether. This time around, he feels like he genuinely is giving his all. He decides that he will see that Jason's book becomes a reality because Jason is talented, he is amazing and deserves this. And then, he will gather the courage and ask him out. Jason is also troubled because he is developing a fat crush on his sister's ex and he did NOT see that coming.
The day Jason's book is finally out, they celebrate and Tim asks Jason out on a date. ----
Later: Steph: SMH I can't believe you! Jason: ... it's your fault
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Its 7am atm but my brain wonât shut up about this idea I have
Just thinking about their reactions to reader struggling with clothes - too tight or too loose
Not proofread, apologies for the errors
Tags: xgn!reader, suggestive tones(18+ mdni), I suppose this is also like pervy!cod members in some sense xD, mentioned of injury, possessive, musk kink(?), markings, tattoo
John Price
Everyone was given a new pair of military gears and outfits today, you had placed and wrote down the size you wanted previously
And yet still somehow they messed it up and your pants came in smaller than your regular size
You decided to try it on anyways because you canât do much
That was a mistake
You pulled the pants, trying and skipping around as it gets caught around your ass, you gave another few more try before ultimately giving up, realizing that you might tore the fabric in the process
And so you push it back down, only to realize it wont budge
Great
You lay down on the floor, hands splayed on the floor as you let out a loud defeated sigh
âYou alright there?â Price came by as he heard your voice, halting as he sees you on the floor
âI give upâ you say as you craned your neck to look at him and pointed your pants
âCant fit and cant remove itâ you said before frowning and gestured your pants
He laughs slightly before kneeling before you
âLet me helpâ
He said as he gives those pants a tug, and it doesnt budge
He grumbles slightly as he lower down the zipper slightly, thank god you had a black tight pants on(like those swimmer type idk the type wheeze but just know youâre not in undies)
He tries again but it didnt move, so he held your knees up slightly, âclose your legsâ he said before shifting slightly
With a harder grip, he yanks the pants and this time it finally moved, but you also moved along side with it due to his strength, slapping his knee-thigh area with your ass
You blush slightly as you propped yourself up with your elbow, but Price didnât say anything as he gives another tug
He continues doing that and each time your skin would come in contact with him, making a small slap sound every time, you canât help but felt like youâre in quite a suggestive situation, and the grunts and curses he lets out only made things worse
Bit by bit he managed to pull it out until your knees, where you wiggle the rest of it out without much struggle
There were a few red marks on your thighs by the time the pants was removed, he traced one of it with his thumb and whispered
âDoes it hurt?â
It took you a second to register his question before you shake your head, he gives a nod as his fingers lingered for awhile, before clearing his throat as he leaves, you missed the warmth of his fingers
âIâll get you a new pairâ âokayâ
You slapped your cheeks after he left to hopefully set your mind straight, get a grip, heâs your captain ffs! you thought to yourself
Little did you know, Price was fighting his own struggles as he watch your thighs jiggle with every tug, and your skin was so soft and the way you stared up at him with those eyes of yours made him go crazy inside
He knows he shouldnât be having these thoughts, but man oh man
How would it feel like having them littered with bite marks and hickies? How would it feel like if he were to use those squishy thigh to slide his hard-
He prayed you didnât catch on his thoughts when he stood up, an bulge forming in his pants
Kyle Gaz Garrick
You queued up at a clothing shop, excited to try on one of those compression shirt that youâve been wanting to get since you seen them online, and it just so happened that this specific black one is on sale
But you know how it is with items that are on sale, they often come in sizes that are either too big or too small
In your case, too small
You tried it on regardless, wedging it through your head with a few grunts
Eventually you got it on, and you looked good, the shirt clearly hugging onto your figure and showing off your features
But you can barely breathe
âSweetheart ye done?â Your boyfriend Kyle asked as he knocks your door gently
You adjusted yourself better and held your breath as you open the door and grin
His eyes widen as he takes in your form, hands already on you as he praises and smirk back at you
âHoly damn- look at you, my sexy thing~â
He gave you a lil turn until he realized your breath were strained, and you were using your neck muscles more, not to mention each breath you took was shorter and more frequent
He instantly pulled the shirt around your chest a little, then frowning as he stared back at you with nothing but concerns in his eyes
âHey its too tight isnt it?â He whispered softly as he rest his warm hands on your waist
âYeah but, I look good thoughâ
âNuh uh, that doesnât matter if you canât breathe babyâ
âBut its on sale!â
âWe can go other outlet to check itâ
âThats so much trouble thoughâ
âIts not I promise, lets get these out okay?â
He gave a kiss on your head as he slowly raised em up, until it was around your chest
âJesusâŠâ he mutters in a whisper as he takes a look at you through the mirror, the shirt did looked hella good on you, but seeing your skin exposed like this? Mmm thatâs a better view
You watched as he slowly kneel down and trace his lips around your hips, you squirmed slightly as you nudge his head
âK-kyle, we cant-â
âShhâ
He shushed before kissing on your skin, nibbling it as he left them everywhere, then giving a hard suck just above your V line all of the sudden as you let out a choked sob
He lets go and lick his lips as he looks up at you with a devilish grin
âIâll wait outside, yeah?â
He whispered when he stood up and left the changing room, you contemplated if you seriously needed that compression shirt as you look at the mark he left you, god does he knows just how to rile you up
Simon Ghost Riley
You hissed out with a suppressed groan as you lay against the couch with a bandage over your abdomen, without painkillers the dull aching pain was getting to you
You had a stab wound at the very last moment during the mission and Ghost had to settled it hastily with the med kit, bringing you to a safe house nearby
You didnt even realize you had goosebumps all over your arm as you shiver slightly, your shirt was torn in the process and some of it were used as a makeshift tourniquet to cut off the blood supply, now only having a pillow covering your chest
âHereâ
You heard a gruff voice behind you as something was tossed over your head, you quickly picked it up and realize it was one of his spare t shirt
You complied and wore it, realizing it was HUGE, the hem of the shirt extended until your thighs and the sleeves were covering until your forearm
You let out a hum of amusement as you whispered back a small âthanksâ as you slide back to the couch
It smelled like him, and its warm and rather cozy, and that gave you a some comfort
You closed your eyes as you pulled up the shirt slightly so that the neckline was covering your nose, inhaling it and breathing slowly until eventually you dozed off
It will take a few hours before help can arrive anyways
Ghost had been watching from the side, and seeing how his clothe draped over your form has definitely awaken something in him
He slowly, and quietly kneel down beside you, careful not to stir you awake as he observes and look at you closely
God, heâd never realize how good you looked in something that was his
He wonders how you would look like with nothing but his big t shirt
It felt like he was marking you in some ways, showing off(albeit theres no one else) to everyone that youâre his(even though youâre notâŠâŠyet)
What really made him clenched his jaw was how you were inhaling his smell, did you liked his scent that much? Mmm if onlyâŠ
If only he could take you and cover you in his musk, rubbing it off on yours, letting everyone knows just who claimed you
John Soap MacTavish
You were training with him today to improve your hand-to-hand combat skills
One thing about Soap is that he will never go easy on you
So he would flip you, get you into a headlock, knocked you over with every chance he get
âCome on, yer need to faster rookieâ
You huff and glare back at him as you take your stance, muscles already aching as you tug your pants
You regretted wearing this one
For some reason, you couldnât find any regular pants you wear and so you dug out this old pants, but it was much bigger and it was falling every few seconds
You wouldâve worn a belt, you shouldâve worn a belt but you were rushing and didnât thought about it
As you get distracted, Soap lunged on you as you barely avoided his fist, but he was fast as he gave a kick on your feet, tumbling you down for probably the 20th time on this session as you yelped
He grin and lets out a victorious laugh as he looked down on you, then stops as he notice just a small part of your undies revealing, along with a tattoo that was around your back, oh
You were on the ground, with your face towards the floor and ass towards him as you groan, panting out a few breaths as you try to lift yourself up slowly
âGiving up already?â He tuts as he comes closer and squat down, taking a better look at your backside with half-lidded eyes
He never knew you had tattoo, and itâs one of those tramp stamp nonetheless, which was really hot in his opinion. You had a small symmetrical wings with some thorns beside it as a design
But what really caught his attention was the hem of your undies, black, nothing crazy but still, it clearly distracts him enough that he didnt realize you were watching him stare at you
âEnjoying the view, Sarge?â
You wiggle your ass as he snapped out of his trance and cleared his throat, looking away with a blush.
âAh-sorry, didnt mean to stareâ
âYou can stareâ
He looked back at you with a frown as you flash him a grin, arching your back slightly as you wiggle your ass again
âYer gonna be the death of meâ he said with a laugh as he slaps your ass slightly, making you yelp as you giggled and tries to sit up, only to be yanked by your leg as he spins you around
Your legs were now beside his waist as he pulls you close, grinding on you as you blush
âLets get on with a few private lessonsâŠyeah?â
a/n: im updating Gaz's color with pink instead of yellow bcuz my friend mentioned it was hard to see if someone uses light mode tumblr :]
#gomzwrites#cod mw22#cod mwii#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod imagines#mw2 x reader#cod fanfic#mw2 fanfic#cod smut#simon ghost riley x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#captain john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#smut#call of duty smut#cod x reader smut
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~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 7: ~
The Confession:
And we're back. New story arc I'm calling 'Before the Rescue.' It's a few mini chapters focusing on various characters getting closure with themselves or each other. This one is for Caz.
Part 8:
With a cigarette hanging from his lips, Roper watched the Deck from the catwalk. It was both a relief and strange to see things back to normal, apart from the obvious. All the infected had the blood washed away and their torn uniform removed. The sky had cleared as dusk approached. Fitting.
Trots seemed to be taking it well. He was sweeping up the dust left by The Shape alongside Roy and Dobbie. Nothing seemed to be bothering him, unless staying busy was his way of coping.
On the Deck, Douglas, Innes and Sunil were going backwards and forwards for spare bedding. The empty shipping containers were going to be makeshift beds. Apart from Trots, because he won the lottery out of the group, the infected couldn't fit in their rooms. Addair managed, because The Shape melted his bones, but as soon as he sat on his bunk, it broke, leaving him shocked and embarrassed. He tried his best not to show it and just muttered under his breath in frustration.
No one had seen Rennick since he vanished, and no one went looking for him. If he wanted to get into everyone's good books, then hiding wasn't the way to do it.
Overall, it was peaceful.
Caz approached and stood besides Roper, leaning against the handrailing. He went to accept a cigarette but refused. 'New Year resolution,' he said, causing Roper to chuckle. 'How ye holding up?'
'Better than you. We actually missed everything in Control.' It was true. Somehow The Shape never spread to Marine Control. A blessing.
'Good. This place would be fucked if it did.'
The Shape may be dead and gone, but the damage remained. Large holes in the floors and ceilings weren't hard to miss. One wrong step and you could still fall into the North Sea. The Pontoons and water tanks had flooded, though O'Connor and his team went back to fix the issue. Administration was a total loss thanks to Rennick's episode of rage and Brodie was constantly keeping an eye on the stack. The lifeboats were also a total loss.
Then there was Gregor.
His body was long gone. It was part of the sea now. Roper was pondering on what to tell his family, because they all knew 'Boss Man' Rennick didn't have the balls to do so himself. What's worse was that Gregor isn't the only one. Davros has been missing for hours. No one could find him. All they could guess was he took a lifeboat and fled. If that was the case then he wasn't alone. Out of the skeleton crew on Beria, eight, not including Gregor and Davros, were gone.
Caz twiddled his thumbs. It wasn't over for the crew, but for him, it was. The victory will be short lived. He knew as soon as he steps back onto the mainland, if they aren't arrested by military, the police will ship him off to the nearest station. How long would he be put away for? Clearly waiting for Billy to drop the charges didn't work. Bastard was always stubborn. The Shape was an interesting distraction, but he had to stop running.
'Roper, you need to know something.' And, as if by divine faith, Roy overheard. He knew what Caz was going to say and approached. Trots and Dobbie didn't notice. Roper turned, noticing Roy but not suspecting anything. 'The reason why I'm even 'ere, and why Rennick needed to see me.' No going back now. 'Well, let's just say I was and am, well and truly fucked.' Roper frowned. Roy stayed quiet. 'I beat up a bloke back in July. Came to Beria to avoid the charges. I...I dunno. Just hoped it would all blow over and I could go back in January all willy-nilly and see me girls, but someone spilt the beans and the police know I'm 'ere.'
Roper trilled his lips and had a conflicting look on his face. Out of everything he expected to hear, knowing a criminal was on board was not one of them. 'Can't say I've got experience in that field, mate. Does anyone else know?'
'N-'
'Yes, I did.' Roy stepped forward and raised his hand like he was back in school. 'I helped Caz get here. Someone back home owed me a favour and put in a good word.'
'Ah. The plot thickens then.' Roper turned away to think. He wasn't someone who could hire and fire like Rennick. Tapping the cigarette on the handrail, then putting it out between his gloved fingers, he'd quickly come to the conclusion that this didn't change how he saw the pair. Sadly he only had one answer. 'I think it's best you tell the others in your own time. If you don't want to, then that's up to you Caz.' But the truth will come out in the end. A former semi-professional boxer being arrested will get back to everyone here.
Caz didn't know if he felt better or not with that answer. He narrowed his eyes and glanced to the crew. None of them knew. Was that for the best? To live in ignorance? Would they hate him if he told them what happened back home? Would Rennick reveal his secret to get back at him? He didn't want to toss Roy into the mix either. The big man might have helped, but he had a home to go back to.
'...I'll.' He huffed. 'I'll think about it.'
Fuck.
Roper patted his shoulder to show support. Honestly, he didn't care. The entire time he's been here, Caz has been a good lad. He worked hard and he did keep this place running more than anyone knew. Just because he wasn't down in Engineering or working the drill itself didn't mean he was useless. Now he had to ask. 'Did you win?'
'Oh, aye. He got to experience a broken nose for once. Suited the bastard more.' The trio got a good laugh out of that comment.
So, who to tell first?
Could tell his little boxing fan base. That would include Innes, O'Connor, McLurg and Sunil. Finlay? She knew something was up since this morning and she's smart enough to put two and two together. Addair? No, but he already had an inkling. 'Ah. Fuck it.'
It must be becoming a little ritual for Caz, because, again, he jumped over the handrailing - nearly giving Roper and Roy a mini heart attack - and landed on the shipping container Brodie, Raffs and Finlay were sitting on. Everyone heard and gave him his full attention.
'Er...Right. Shit.' Deep breaths, Caz. Deep breaths. 'I need everyone's attention.'
'Looks like you've already got that.'
'Yes, thank you, Finlay.' A sigh. 'There's something you all need to know about me.' Caz tapped his foot, looked all the men in the eye and continued. He had no idea, but Rennick was listening from the Under Rig. He was too far away for Caz to sense him but his voice bouncing off the metal structure and equipment could be heard all the way on The Isle of Man. The manager clung to what's left of the railing and listened. 'Now, I know a lot of you know of me past, and you should know I retired from that lifestyle over a decade ago. But, it seems the past keeps coming back to me.' He paused. Caz hadn't noticed he was tapping his thigh with his left hand.
'I beat a man up back home. At first, I thought I was doing the right thing. He said some fuckin' terrible things about me wife that I just lost control. Yes, he was trying to get a raise out of me and whilst he got what he wanted, I should have just walked away. But, I came here to hide from the police. They now know that I'm here. It's why Rennick wanted me. So, when we get back to the mainland, don't be surprised that police cars will be there.' He took another long breath. 'I'm sorry I never told any of you sooner.'
Silence lingered. No one said anything. They all just stared. Caz felt tension brewing. He began to turn away in defeat, his head hanging low.
'Were we supposed to care about any of that?' He stopped. It was Brodie's voice. The diver got to his feet and like Roper, placed a hand on Caz's shoulder. 'Caz, look around you. From all the shit we've been through, do you really think this is going to change anything?' A look and feeling of relief washed over the leccy. He felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He turned to the crew, then to Roy and the others on the catwalk, before back to Brodie. 'Don't worry. We'll put a good word in for ya.'
Caz smiled. Then cried. Then laughed.
'Ah you pricks. You're gonna make me cry.' But he did and accepted Brodie's embrace. Then Finlay joined in. Then Raffs. Then Gibbo. Caz had no idea where he came from, but a simple hug was quickly becoming a mosh pit. 'Gah! Okay. You can all stop now.' It didn't, because Muir lifted Caz up he'd just won the Premier league trophy. 'Muir, for fucks sake!'
Rennick didn't come out of hiding. He heard the laughter from the crew. He would be lying if he didn't feel both sad and jealous. It brought back memories when he was Caz's age, maybe even younger, during the war. That feeling of a team effort. The brotherly love. How he missed those days, even if it was a dark time in human history. It brought people together. What happened to him? How did he stray so far from his younger self? Rennick couldn't absorb his head into his body like Gibbo, but how he wished he could. The old man just wanted to hide from the world. For now, he watched the calm waves and longed to return to the past.
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To Pimp a Butterfly and 1989: a rant
Listen here, three things about me are that I'm a) white as snow, b) Greek, c) still a minor.
What does this mean? It means that I obviously wasn't raised with hip-hop, and I got into Kendrick Lamar's music pretty late.
As in, early this year.
I've known of him for some time, and the moment I found out he had a Pulitzer prize at some point in late-ish 2023, I decided I had to sit my ass down and pull out Spotify.
Now, as an avid reader of both fanfiction (ao3 raised me) and books [I feel the immense need to clarify that I don't associate myself with mainstream booktok. Capitalism's consumerism has overrun that shit and all I see are the same 20 books being recycled and recommended (a substantial amount of those are Colleen Hoover and her variants). Tropes and spice* are officially the defining factors of whether a book is worth it (*your porn addiction ain't cute) and quantity is heavily prioritized at the expense of quality. Also, diversity who?], I was, for a lack of a better word, hyped.
A Pulitzer prize is nothing to scoff at in general, more so in music, more so in hip-hop.
(Edit: Upon quick reflection, I realize that putting emphasis on hip-hop can come across as coded.
I am in no way, shape, or form trying to undermine hip-hop or say that it's somehow less 'sophisticated' than, for example, classical music. I'm very aware of the amount of skill and technique one needs to write a masterful hip-hop album, and I'm not doubting that there are hip-hop artists out there who are also incredibly deserving of such a prize. I meant it in the sense that I've unfortunately never heard of another hip-hop artist who won a Pulitzer before, which is quite telling.)
That's some huge shit, and I'd be a fool not to be intrigued.
Admittedly, I didn't get on that immediately. For a while I procrastinated, because I wasn't in the mood to hyper-fixate on anything new just yet.
Which of course meant I ended up forgetting about it for a few months, because of course I did.
But then I came across a TikTok that talked about how it was insane that '1989' won the Grammy when To Pimp a Butterfly was right there.
Now, a fourth thing about me is that I don't fuck with Taylor Swift.
And a fifth thing about me is that I'm not baseless in anything that I do, say or feel, and that includes annoyance.
Her immature understanding of activism and feminism leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The way she built up her fan base around this portrayal of her as a relatable girl's girl, her refusal to accept criticism, and always making a victim out of herself (even now when she's in her thirties and is a fucking billionaire) while never using her position of power and privilege for good are all reasons that serve to fuel my dispassionate dislike.
And before any Swifties get on my ass, no, I don't think that "But she's a singer! Why are you expecting so much out of her, she isn't even qualified to speak on XYZâ" is a good enough excuse.
She has always been rich, and now she's a billionaire. There are no ethical billionaires, and that includes her.
Fame is influence is power. Uncle Ben said it all: With great power comes great responsibility.
And let me tell you, I don't see her owning up to that responsibility, especially after all that talk about how she supports women, supports the LGBTQ community, and supports the BLM movement. Has she ever actually put her abundant money where her mouth is?
I've never seen her speak about anything that doesn't immediately concern her.
Don't get me wrong. She's not the only celebrity like this out there. I'm sure there are worse cases. I know it for a fact.
To wrap this segment up before I get even more sidetracked, I'll outright state that I don't hate her, because hating her would by definition mean that I, in some way, actually care about her, and that just sounds exhausting.
Best way to describe me is indifferent, leaning towards distasteful.
She's annoying.
And that's how I feel about both her as a person and her as an artist.
I'm not denying her talent, nor her impact on the industry, nor the fact that she does have good songs that even I like.
A select few, of course, but still.
Apart from those...what? Ten songs? I have never, ever been able to listen to any other song of her's all the way through.
I get bored. They do nothing for me. They sound empty. Hollow. Plastic. Repetitive.
Her lyrics, that are praised by fans for being deep and complex, sound pretty surface level to me.
Not all of them. But I'm a sucker for analysis. A literature nerd. Greek is my native language. I can tell when something's deep and when something wants to be deep.
(Not necessarily including Folklore and Evermore in that category. Her storytelling ability is actually great.)
Her music largely sounds like it wants to be deep.
Most recent example being her latest release, The Tortured Poets Department.
Anyway, back to Kendrick.
My initial plan was to listen to 'DAMN.' first, because that's what he won the Pulitzer for in the first place.
There was a change of plans after that TikTok.
I decided to compare the opening tacks.
I put on Welcome to New York, and predictably, I felt nothing.
The rhythm is dance-y, I suppose. But there's nothing substantial about it. There's nothing exciting about it.
The lyrics are juvenile, and I get it, it's a pop song and she was in her twenties.
Nobody is expecting Shakespeare (no matter how much you scream or kick your feet, the only reason Shakespeare couldn't write Taylor Swift is because he's in another league entirely) or Odysseus Elytis. Nobody is expecting mind-blowing lyricism.
But it's the opening track to an apparently Grammy-worthy album. The very least I'd expect from it would be some additional levels of artistry.
Am I being harsh? Probably. Do I care? No.
Disappointed but unsurprised, I put on Wesley's Theory.
I ascended within the first minute.
Don't get it twisted, I barely understood shit.
Not only am I white, I am also entirely removed from America and its culture as a whole. I don't know what's going on there in y'all's daily lives.
And this was baby's first proper introduction to hip-hop as a whole.
My untrained, white-ass ear barely caught two references. I got what the gist of the song was about, and that's about it.
I had to look up analyses of the track to fully grasp what Kendrick was on about, and even then, there was obviously still a disconnect.
And I expected all of that.
I didn't expect to get hooked on that song within the first listen.
I swear to fuck, the beat is addictive. I swear to fuck, even when I was fighting to understand what the lyrics were referencing, I was having the time of my life.
Even I, an amateur in every sense of the word, could tell that there was depth and there was quality and there was intentional meaning in every line of that song.
It didn't matter that I couldn't understand it. It mattered that I knew it was there. Not because someone told me that was the case. But because it was audible.
I listened to the next track. And the one after that. And the one after that. I had listened to all of the tracks, before I knew it.
And the evident permeance of quality, of substance, carried on throughout the whole album.
It had exactly the type of lyricism I'd expect a Grammy-worthy album to have. It had exactly the amount of artistry I expected a Grammy-worthy album to have.
Even better, it had all the ingredients I expected a timeless album to have.
The poetry Taylor Swift fans insist hides in her discography, I found in plain sight within Kendrick Lamar's.
After meticulously reading the lyrics, I watched video essay after video essay, searched for analysis after analysis on this album, each time understanding the meanings behind it a little better.
Needless to say that the Grammy's are rigged and I love Kendrick Lamar.
Hip-hop is gorgeous.
#tpab#to pimp a butterfly#kendrick lamar#he's awesome#hip hop#1989#taylor swift#just to be safe#anti taylor swift
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