#criminally golden couple

[yourthemaster11-blog]

F/Ovember Presents...*literal drumroll*...WOULD YOU RATHER? !

Brian: Howdy folks! As we all know, F/OVwember is a time for appreciation, admiration and...games! This next one is an absolute doozy, a presentation of situations no one would ever want to be in, but has to for the sake of this ever so perfect game! Why don't you explain Pomni? Pomni: We're going to give you two scenarios per character and you'll have to choose the one you'd rather do! A classic game, but the twist is that you'd honestly want to do neither! Kim: But you're legally required to choose one!...Metaphorically speaking! Vanessa: Just think of it as an opportunity to bond...over abject horrors! Sarah: Abject horror makes for good songs after all! Brian: That they do Sarah! And without further ado, these four lovely ladies are going to present the most wonderfully horrific binary choices possible! Take it away Pom! Pomni: Would you rather... 1. Be forced to laugh for the rest of your life non-stop, at risk of life imprisonment? OR 2. Never be allowed to laugh again, at risk of life imprisonment?

Kim: Would you rather... 1. Take the blame for a crime you didn't commit for a loved one and be put in prison for life? OR 2. Commit a bank theft and get away scot-free, at risk of many innocents being hurt?

Vanessa: Would you rather... 1. Have every single thing you do broadcast to the world? OR 2. Live in a world with no social media, TV or other electronics to speak of for the rest of your life? Sarah: Would you rather... 1. Be forced to sing for the rest of your life or be tickled for failing? OR 2. Never be allowed to listen to music again or be tickled for failing?

[risuola]

IV — EPIPHANY // Sukuna thought nothing can break him. He's powerful, he has influence and means to always come on top – or at least that's what he thought, because now he realized that he's nohing but weak.

contents: angst, blood, usage of weapon, reader discretion is advised — 2,6k words

a/n: in this part i wanted to give you a little insight into Sukuna's persona. show the menace in him, show the threat and how he is when he's not influenced by weakness that is our precious y/n (aka when he's not confused as hell by what's happening in his heart). i rewrote this part four times before i was finally somewhat satisfied with it.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

You are safe with me.

Sukuna thought about the words with hilarity. The sentence so simple and kind, it felt foreign to realize that his own mouth allowed it out of his system. An odd sort of disdain washed over himself and he found it laughable that throughout his entire career of blood and murder, what made his blood pressure raise up was a lie he told you. A strangely comic amalgamation of letters and syllables that each time he thought of them made him more angry and more amused.

You were safe, technically, or maybe that’s what he wished to believe when he replayed the events of one very unlucky Sunday evening in his memory. It began lovely, too lovely in fact, but he chose to actively ignore the oddity of it – he came to terms with how easily you were able to render his senses useless whenever you came into the field of his view wearing something as pretty as the dress you picked for the date that day. It was in a shade of pink that you deemed similar to the color of his hair, a dusty rose, you called it, and Sukuna wasn’t sure exactly how much truth was that, but he couldn’t care less about it when you looked so drop dead gorgeous. When he watched you walking next to him through the crowded alleys in the park nearby your apartment building, he couldn’t help but notice only you in the mass of people around him. He felt like a teenager in a way, with his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage with pace similar of this after sprinting for long time. You were capable of triggering reactions in his body that he thought were long gone with the days of his youth but he was fine with it. As long as he could witness your beauty, he was fine with everything.

Sukuna laughed gravelly as the sequence of memories played in his mind – the dark sound of his voice causing two police officers outside the bars of his cell to tremble. Oh, how much he hated you and your stupidly breathtaking face for whatever the hell you did to him. If he could, he would tell you what he thinks of it right now and if not careful enough, he might tell you a little too much. Confess maybe. Yeah, he might do that someday. And maybe move out somewhere where you’d truly be safe. Where he wouldn’t feel like a fucking idiot for saying words that are so damn obviously a lie.

Moving out felt like a good idea. In couple of years, when he’s done ruling the criminal forces, he could take you out of Japan, somewhere far away and protect you from any harm. He’d take you somewhere warm, where he could shamelessly admire the way your skin tone looks under the golden rays of sun and the way your eyes shine and glisten like the most expensive and rare gemstones. The thought of you brought a wide smile to his face, as the picture spread in front of his closed eyelids. In the cold of his cell, he could almost feel the burning touch of your fingers tracing the shapes of his body.

* * *

Sixteen days.

It’s been over two weeks since you last saw Sukuna and it was getting harder and harder to go about your days. You missed him. You missed his face, his strong arms that manhandled you around despite your playful taps and tugs. You missed the huskiness of his voice, the low purrs he made in the morning whenever he’d nuzzle his nose against your temple inhaling the scent of your skin that he swore he was addicted to. And above all, you were worried and restless, and scared.

Whenever you closed your eyes, your mind was flooded with memories of the Sunday date you went on with Ryomen. He picked you up and handed you a little bag filled with your favorite mochi – the ones stuffed with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, a delicacy made in only one place in Tokyo and you remember how your heart swelled with warmth and love when you realized he had driven to that shop on the other side of the city just to get you few pieces of sweets. He was wearing his usual, black dress pants and a leather belt, perfectly polished boots and a dark grey sweater that made him look both casual and dangerous, with the tattoos around his wrists exposed under the rolled-up sleeves and his sharp features, that somehow whenever were turned towards you seemed a little bit softer.

You felt like a princess next to him, you felt loved and protected with his large hand enveloping your smaller one in his warm embrace. It was perfect. It was perfect until–

You didn’t exactly pick up what happened and how it happened. Even now as you think of it, you can’t truly recall how that tale-like evening turned into a mess that led you to lose your sleep every night that followed. It was a flash. One second you were leaning into Sukuna’s palm, greedy to steal his warmth and love and next one you were pushed tightly against his chest behind a bench. His hand, that was embracing you with as much delicacy as one would use to touch a doll made of porcelain was suddenly pressed harshly to the side of your head, covering your ear. Someone was shooting, Ryomen was shooting. You felt the impact of each bullet being extracted from his weapon. Each one of the subtle shakes of his muscular body reverberated throughout your smaller frame. You heard guns, despite his effort to protect your eardrums, but the loud explosive sound mixed with screams of people around was loud and clear in your head. An echo of danger and violence that you witnessed firsthand even though the man that held you did everything he could to protect you from the event.

You remember vividly the moment Sukuna groaned and cussed lowly. It followed a soft tremble of his large body and at first you didn’t realize what happened, but then you felt the unexpected wet warmth on one of your hands. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he was telling you over and over again as your eyes began to water at the realization that one of your palms was covered in blood. His blood.

“It’s just a scratch,” he was lying to you, but you didn’t know it was a lie until you saw him later. The magazine in his gun was empty sooner than you thought it will be and the foreign shooting continued. It seemed like there were few attackers, but you couldn’t tell where all of it was coming from. All you remember was that you stayed hidden in the large body of your lover for the entire time until the police sirens broke the scene.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, doing everything in your power to hold back sobs, as he kept you close to himself. You knew that police couldn’t be good for him and if not for you, he would most likely run away somehow, but he stayed there, behind the bench, holding you tightly and making sure not a single bullet could land on your fragile body.

He didn’t look mad, not even annoyed, when he was telling you what to do next and how to act in the face of what was to come, and even though you had the hardest time registering it through the immense fear you felt regarding his future, you were nodding. He was calm, and you thought that he stayed calm for you because the scene of shooting was enough of a distress for you already. And then, you saw him in handcuffs, with his hands shackled behind his back, guided towards the police car. Cops that were responsible for escorting him looked almost funny next to his towering frame and if he only wanted, he would quite easily throw those officers away. But he didn’t. And he didn’t do it to save you.

You remember the last time you saw him he sent you a smile, more so a smirk, when one of those cops harshly pushed his head down, making sure he got into the car. Few moments later, he was gone and you were left with the mess of the crime scene and the burden of a witness.

Later, you were informed by one of his pawns that it’s not gonna take long, but you knew that things were serious because few days slowly turned into a week and then two weeks and he still was in jail. And you couldn’t go visit him because he said so. You stayed in his house, safe and sound in the bed you always shared with him, except now you were alone and cold. You missed him. And you were worried.

It killed you inside to think Sukuna might face charges. A life sentence, most likely. There was only so much that you knew about his criminal past and you were sure that he kept many secrets from you, that he wanted to save you from the heavy burden of his misdeeds and cruelty. You knew how dangerous his lifestyle was, how dark was the path he chose to fallow and you knew that even someone as strong as him couldn’t escape the jurisdiction forever. But why now?

You couldn’t shake off the devastating feeling of emptiness whenever you wandered between the luxurious interiors of his mansion. It felt like you couldn’t stop worrying, day in and day out you were thinking if he was alright. Was he properly fed? He told you that he won’t contact you while in jail to protect you, but all you wished for was just to hear his voice. You were worried about the way authorities treat criminals of his sort. What will they do to him? The mere thought of torture or interrogation filled you with dread and anxiety. You never felt so alone and helpless.

* * *

It took too long.

In fact, detention took much longer than Sukuna anticipated but time behind the bars was nothing but an entertainment for him. It was amusing, it allowed him to let loose. Surrounded by an air of sadistic satisfaction he didn’t get to experience in years, he played game of pushing and pulling, a game of power. Despite being enclosed and surrounded by dozens of officers and guards, Sukuna had a sense of control over his situation, and it amused him. He was enjoying the misery that he caused others, relished in the fact that he was feared and hated. It made him almost giddy. There was a twinkle in his eye and a playful grin on his lips, he relished the experience.

“I’ve got few questions to you.”

He smirked, sitting smug and relaxed. For the nth time he was questioned; a futile attempt of getting information out of him, yet another display of the illusionary power that authorities thought they had but lacked severely. It made Ryomen laugh out loud each time he sat against a new face, it pleased him, he loved the feeling of having the interrogator’s full attention. Detectives that tried to enforce the law onto him looked tough, each one of them, until they dropped their weight onto the metal chair in the interrogation room. The heaviness of the sinister aura was unnerving to anyone who dared to approach and the criminal enjoyed breaking them one by one.

“Do you?” Sukuna spoke, his voice low and menacing, but bearing a thrill of amusement and excitement. The heavy chains that grounded his frame clinked as he moved just slightly and the shiver that went down the spine of the man in front of him did not escape his watchful eye. “Afraid?”

“Hardly,” a tone of false confidence responded to the question and Ryomen chuckled. To him, this was a game, and he was winning. He found joy in annoying the interrogator, knowing that he couldn’t get anything out of him. It was stimulating, it was fun. It was a game of cat and mouse. It felt euphoric to answer the questions, knowing that his words were confusing, that he was able to mess with the man’s head, make him question his own judgement.

Years and years of being on the top of mafia managed to clear his memory of being vulnerable and the caricature of it that he was now experiencing served for a nice refresher. He felt excitement to play with the law and as he sat there, restrained by metal bounds, he realized why he became a criminal in the first place. The constant chase of thrill and power was what made him who he was.

As the detective sat there, intimidated more and more with each passing second, Sukuna watched the disaster unraveling with a dark glint in his eyes. He enjoyed every moment of the tension and knew that chills were running down the spine of his current opponent. He was imposing, savoring the fear and the exquisite feeling of danger that surrounded him. It was intoxicating, it made him feel alive. He played with the interrogator as if the predator would play with its pray, he stared at him with a small grin of pure evil.

“You’ve been stubborn this whole time,” the officer said, clearing his throat and straightening his spine to make himself appear bigger but to Ryomen, he was merely a source of amusement. The criminal stayed relaxed and leaned forward, slowly closing the distance between his own face of death and the eyes of the person in front of him.

“Was I stubborn?” He questioned, his tone low and menacing and his lips stretched slowly, baring the teeth. “You’ve got me all chained up and still, you can’t get your job done?”

“You’re chained up because of the potential threat you might pose.”

Sukuna laughed. A raspy and low chuckle came from his throat; a dark omen that hung heavy in the air as if signifying the upcoming danger. It was cold and malicious, an ominous showcase of his real persona, of someone who has no compassion and knows no mercy. He felt a twisted sense of satisfaction at the sight of sweat running down the face of the man in front of him. He exuded an aura of fear, leaving everyone in the room unsettled.

“If I only wanted to, I could rip out your throat with my bare teeth.” Ryomen’s voice was low, it was quiet and nearly whisper like but the message it carried was more than enough to freeze the blood inside the veins of the interrogator.

“I assume you’re familiar with the idea of good cop bad cop method,” the man spoke again after a moment of dread. He cleared his throat once more, squared up his jaw.

“And which one are you?”

“Oh, I’m neither, but allow me to show you something,” interrogator reached to the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a phone with his sweaty palms and pressing down few buttons.

The moment Sukuna looked down on the screen, his expression changed. A ghost of anger washed over his features as he took in the picture. Suddenly, he felt a wave of burning hot filling his veins and reaching his face; a dizzying sensation of dread and rage and then he realized that the power he wielded was nothing. With his eyes fixed on the little phone and his jaw clenched, shaken by the rush of adrenaline and with his knuckles white, Sukuna Ryomen experienced acknowledgement. An epiphany of sorts. The illusion of might and influence burst like a bubble made of soap and slowly he realized that he’s nothing but–

“Seeing something familiar?”

–weak.

taglist: @yihona-san06 @tiredscavengerskeleton @son4aras @vixorell @cecesharktales @isleqt @thickmacandcheese @captainchrisstan @bbylime @sad-darksoul @shartnart1 @kiki17483 @grimreaqueer @phoenix-eclipses @fan-of-encouragement @valleydoll @aleeeeeeees-stuff @marifujioka @going-to-californiaxx @just-pure-trash @edenofeve @impulsivethoughtsat2am @thigh-o-saur @heyohalie @matchat3a @bubblearts @littlemisspropaganda @aconstructofamind @lawislife18 @rzcnlb @sunukissed @b3llair3 @lzaj19 @sanzusforeverwife @annshz, @mrs--imperfect @kaminari-no-ritsusha @gojos-princesa @burpzz

[battymommastuff]

The Other Side

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

!!TW!! - MENTIONS OF SA AND OTHER DARK THEMES

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

You didn't get a chance to address the deep voice before a cloth was covering your face and the world went dark. A throbbing pain came next when you awoke. You were laying on a very luxurious bed. Looking down, you saw that you were still in your same clothing. Just a silk robe that covered your underwear. Your heart was racing as you looked around the room. Whoever lived here, lived in style. Everything looked as if it would cost you bodily organs to own. 

Before the shock could wear off, the two massive double doors opened, and a man walked into the room. A mask covering his face, and his eyes watched you carefully. Your body visibly shrunk as you stared at the intimidating man across the room from you, "Ms. (L/N), I do want to apologize for the rather harsh retrieval of you. We have to take precautionary measures these days." The man said while stepping closer to you. He stepped into the moonlight, and you finally saw every detail of his mask. A golden bird mask...no owl mask. What the hell is going on? 

"W-What do you want with me?" You asked, moving off of the bed once he got too close to you. The bed now served as a barrier between you and your kidnapper, but it didn't provide any comfort for you. All you could think of was being raped, and sold on the black market. Gotham City wasn't the safest city, but you never thought this would happen to you. How did this happen? There was always security watching over the bunk area every night to make sure this never happened. How did these men get in to kidnap you? Whatever the reason, you didn't feel safe with the circus anymore. 

"To give you a chance...a chance to be apart of something great. My organization works from the shadows to ensure the safety of our beautiful city..." Beautiful isn't a word you would use, but sure, "You possess a talent that could be beneficial to our cause." The man picked up a remote and turned the tv on. What played was several of your acts and some of your rehearsals. All taken from vantage points, and places that you wouldn't have noticed someone watching you, "We've come to realize that our organization is seen as a myth, a boogeyman. Many criminals fear us, and with your talents...we could harness that fear." He stepped around the bed and started making his way towards you once again. The fear you felt kept your legs from moving, so this time he got uncomfortably close to you, "Join us (Y/N). Join us and help us purge Gotham of everything that taints it." 

The Court of Owls. One of Gotham's scariest myths. You've heard whispers of them while spending days in the city. Some of your fellow performers even mentioned them once or twice. Everything you've ever heard was never good. This cult believes they are doing the right thing, but are harming so many in the process. You couldn't join them...you couldn't live your life in the shadows. What could ever be so wonderful about someone so full of darkness? It seemed that the man saw what you were thinking, and he backed away, "Such a shame...you would have been such a valuable asset. I'm afraid if you won't join us, then we have to do away with you. You will pose a risk to all of us." The man turned his back towards you, and you knew now was your chance. Grabbing the closest thing to you; a lamp, you hit him over the bed. The man dropped to the ground, and you ran to the window. Luckily you weren't too high from the ground, so you pushed the window open and climbed out. 

You could hear voices and yelling as you dashed into the dark, raining city. You hadn't a clue where you were going, but anywhere would be better than this. The circus would be the first place they would look, so you had to find somewhere new. You could hear footsteps behind you as well as some above you. They were after you, and they were fast. Thankfully, your breathing training worked wonders. Still you were no match for these skilled men. They managed to corner you into a dead end alley. This is it. The place where your dead body would be found. It all ended here. The vile smell of puke, piss, and garbage filled your nose as you looked around at the court members closing in on you, "P-Please...I promise I won't tell anyone. Just let me go." You pleaded, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. From behind you were pushed to your knees, and you could see your reflection in the blade meant for your death. 

The member lifted the blade up, but before it could meet your skin...a rope wrapped around their wrist. With a scream, they were pulled into the darkness. It felt as if all sound in the city stopped...everything went quiet. You felt fear before, but this was a new level of fear. A fear that you never would forget. A black shadow flew by, grabbing another member. This caused the rest of them to ignore you, and turned their attention to their surroundings. Now would have been the perfect time to run, but your legs were screaming. The adrenaline was wearing off, and it felt like you couldn't move an inch. A bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, right as a shadow covered the alley...a shadow of a bat. The mysterious savior dropped down on one of the members, and a fight broke out. You could only watch in awe as your savior took down every single member without much struggle. Once it was over, the figure turned towards you. Again the lighting allowed you a glimpse of him. The bat symbol of his chest matched the one in the night sky. 

"Batman..." You whispered, with relief before your eyes rolled back and you slumped to the ground. Batman walked towards you, and gently picked you up from the ground. He didn't see any visible injuries besides little scrapes on your knees from being pushed to the ground. Even now you were just as beautiful as you were while performing. He held you close and summoned the Batmobile. No hospital in Gotham would be safe enough for you. He needed to take you to the batcave. There you would be safe, and he could question you. 

"Alfred, get the med-bay ready. We have a guest." Batman said into his comms, after sitting you in the passenger seat. Your head leaned on the window, but your lips were starting to turn blue. Judging from your attire, you must have been getting ready for bed. With one final look over to make sure you were secure, he raced off into the streets of Gotham to the batcave.

TAGLIST

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa @xxrougefangxx @pixviee @discocactus-world @b4tm4nn @minimoxha @crutoyu @nightw-izhu @legendarylearner18 @mangegeek17 @pixiedust0604 @that-one-fangirl69

[sunkillerlovechild]

dick and jason dynamic, where when they were younger jason always idolised dick and didnt see any of his faults and then he comes back as red hood and is mad at everyone including dick because he is the golden child, the can do no wrong child, that follows batmans rules

then for one reason or other he starts kind of working with nightwing

they develop a working relationship as equals, dick is not his older brother, he is his colleague

and this is where jason finds out that dick "anger issues, hasnt had a civil conversation with bruce in the past couple of years" grayson is in fact on as perfect as he always thought

he gets to see the side of him that dick never lets his younger brothers see, the nasty side that is ready to hurt anyone and do anything for the people that he cares about

they end up having to rescue robin from a hostage situation and jason almost gets a black eye because he is staring frozen at dick breaking bones and lightly maiming without a care in the world because tim has been drugged, kidnapped and is currently sitting tied down to a chairs passed out, so dick doesnt have to worry about him remembering any of this and just goes to town on all the goons

afterwards jason doesnt know what to think because who was that, hes never seen his brother act like that (and maybe he feels mad because where was this energy when he was kidnapped)

then they end up having a run it with some known joker goons, they are just patroling, notice something weird and jason doesnt even plan to engage, he has his plan for the joker and taking down his goons that are seemingly not doing anything interesting is not part of it, maybe he can to little surveillance later, find out what they are doing

dick whoever has very different plans because he has made it his mission to destroy anything regarding the joker so he doesnt even take a moment and just drops on them

jason is obviously surprised but well if this idiot is just gonna go and fight them, its not like hes gonna let him do it alone, so he goes and helps

and here jason gets to again see the part of dick that he saw the other day and even gets to see the reaction of the goons when they see nightwing, hes never see a group of criminals scramble faster not even from batman

after this jason is even more confused, even considers asking talia if maybe dick didnt take a dip it the pit recently but decides against it and just tries his luck with going to the source

so next time him and dick are doing something together he asks, because he heard that "nightwing is a pretty chill vigilante and follows batmans rules"

unbeknown to him dick just had fight with bruce couple hours ago, so the batman comment really just sets him of and he basically screams in jasons faces that hes not batman, he doesnt care about his stupid rules, that if he could kill the joker he would because he took his brother from him and hes never letting that happen again, so he shows very obviously that robin is under his protection and that if anyone tries to mess with him, they will have to answer to him and his no killing rule might just not be as unbreakable as batmans

and goes on how he was never batmans perfect soldier even when he was robin and that maybe if he followed the rules back then his brother would have never gotten the mantle and he would be alive right now, but he just couldnt, why should he not just stab the rapist in the dick so that he never does it again, why cant he break a hand of an abuser, theyve done much worse to their partner

and when he is finally done, jason feels like his whole world view shifted just a bit to the right and he doesnt know what to do about any of this and his big brother is right there, obviously hurting and god has he missed him so much, so he just runs into his arms, gives him the biggest hug and says someone like "i missed you dickhead"

and dick goes all still because what? and they pull apart and they stupid helmet is removed and there is crying and hugging and jason still isnt sure what to do now that he knows that his ohh so perfect brother isnt actually that perfect and they have a lot of stuff to work through but maybe right there in the moment being hugged by his brother none of it matters

actually like this so much i wrote a whole fic

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 | 𝐎𝐭𝟖 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ♡

【Synopsis】 : What if a Mob Boss decides to adopt/date a hybrid?

-> Genre: Suggestive. Gore. Fluff.

Pairing: Ot8!Mafia Bosses x Hybrid!Readers

[Warnings] : Swearing. Criminal activity. Killing. Death. The reader is a bad ass, okay. Mention of abusive and past trauma. Russian reader for Yeosang. Black Reader for Yunho and Mingi cause uh duh, my mans love them so brown beautiful women. San's reader has vitiligo. Mention of blood. Mention of being horny and sexual activities. Puppy love. Sappy shit. All the boys are whipped. What can i say hehe.

Note: SURPRISE! I know you all most definitely have been wanting me to update with another part to the dilf Au or my vampire mini series, but rest assured. I am still writing both. But i whipped this together cause i needed a little break. The dilf au part is currently at 3.8k words, and it's gonna be a long part, let me tell y'all ahha. Thank you for being patient with me, and i promise you'll be seeing more stuff soon. But for now. Enjoy some hybrids.

Masterlist | Navigation

Hongjoong - Slow Loris

Now, these hybrids are some of the most cutest and more desirable. And Hongjoong would be the type to want someone cute, and kind but fucking dangerous. When he first met you, he was in awe with your sweet like beauty. Now innocent you looked. Down to your soft smile and floral outfit. It was only until he watched you get hit on by another low-level mob boss. It was then that he saw the real you. The way you sat on the disgusting man's lap, you had not spoken a word, nor opened your mouth to smile. But within a split second, you bit down on the man's neck. He’d groan thinking you were just playing rough. But when you pulled away that’s when his men knew something was very, very wrong. Your venom had gotten into his system faster than anyone could save him. He’d be dead in minutes and Hongjoong would be in love in seconds.

Seonghwa - English Lop 

Seonghwa wanted to make sure the hybrid he got was perfect. But somehow, we are talking to Hongjoong for a couple of hours. He found himself in a local shelter for abandoned hybrids. And that’s where he found you. A very long-eared bunny. Your ears would fall past your shoulders, and you’d use them to cover your face. You were skittish, and Hwa found out that your type of breed was a product of human engineering. So you were bred to look like that, and you were a failed test. Seonghwa fell in love the moment he saw your big wide eyes. You were scared of the world and scared of humans. But Seonghwa was going to slowly teach you the joys you’d missed out on, and he was definitely going to find the men who hurt you and kill them for throwing you away. Cause you weren’t trash. You were just perfect.

Yeosang - Pallas cat

Yeosang wasn’t looking for a hybrid at the time he met you. But when he was having a meeting with some businessmen for a shipment log, you’d stroll in with a grumpy expression and fluffy tail all frizzed up and swaying annoyingly. Your thick Russian accent would catch him by surprise, and he would never admit it, but he loved the way words slipped off your tongue, and if he could, he would listen to you speak for hours. He knew your type of hybrid breed was naturally aggressive and dangerous. So when one of the men tried to boss you around, you easily just pistol-whipped him cause you could. He would make sure to get your number at the end of that day, and later, you found he was the only human you’d tolerate being around.

Yunho - Rottweiler

We all know for a fact that if this man was a hybrid he’d be a golden retriever. End of story. He holds the sun in his eyes and a constant pip in his step and even though he is supposed to be this big scary mob boss. Behind closed doors with his friends and family, he is just this lovable giant. And when he met you, it wasn’t he that went after you. But the other way around. He was at this bar, and some girls that he had no interest in were disturbing his alone wolf fun. He came to his friend's bar to get away from the clingy, whoring women that slither their way into the underworld scene. They were all the same and it bored him. And no matter how many times he told them to fuck off. They would not listen. And that is where you came in. Normally you wouldn’t get caught dead in a night club but your friend, a local street cat, needed some…fun as she put it. And you were her guard dog. She ditched you after 5 minutes, leaving with some guy that she said ‘He's so fuckable’. that’s when you saw Yunho being cornered by the snakes. You jumped into action, standing in between the girls and him, and successfully scared them away with your rage-filled swaying tail, straight pulled back ears, and snarling teeth.. They ran off quicker than a mouse. Yunho said thank you about a million times that night, immediately in love with your beauty. Your beautiful dark skin. The way your hair was slight patches of browns, blonds, and blacks with loose curls falling in front of your face. He was instantly taken by you, and like a golden retriever, developed puppy love.

San - Raccoon

Now, San did not want a hybrid. He never actually wanted one. The idea of having a creature to look after and don’t get started on people falling in love with them. He didn’t understand the fascination for them. Until he met you. Your mismatched nubbed ears, big almost pitch-black eyes, and faint patterns on your beautiful patching of dark and skin skin.. Your little bookshop became a place he would sneak off to when he got too stressed or just simply needed to see your cute little face. It would take him months to work up the courage to speak to you. And oh, the way your face would light you and your little ears would twitch whenever he was around…. Oh, yeah. He understood now.

Mingi - Spotted Deer

Mingi’s jaw would be on the floor when he first saw you. Your beautiful amber coloured skin with white creamy dots to complement. You were a walking goddess in Mingi’s eye. And the way your tight curled hair was up in a braid that held up a stunning crown that matched your sleek but classy dress. Yunho had dragged him to a hybrid pageant show cause he wanted to see what kind of hybrids Mingi would be interested in. And let's just say he was not going to leave the venue until he met you and got your number.

Wooyoung - Red Fox

Even though red foxes are common, they are one of the desirable in the hybrid trafficking rings since they are very breedable. Wooyoung and a sub-unit of men, a part of his organization, sought out these rings to help save hybrids, and that’s where he met you. Little, shy, scared you. The colour in your fur was almost gone, and there was no spark, no life in your eyes. It took months until you opened up, and then some more just for you to crack a smile. Your playfulness and cheekiness started to come out. You would run around, screaming, laughing, being chased by him. The life in your eyes was back, your smile growing and growing every day. And his love for you grew just the same.

Jongho - Red Panda

He was on an undercover sting for the last four nights. Sitting on the same street, waiting for some bastard low life that was crushing some of the operations Jongho was working on. And through these four days, he saw you every night. At the same time, on the dot going for a night walk. He was curious why such a cute little fluffy ball hybrid would be out at such an hour. Every night, too? What were you looking for? Were you just going for a walk for fun? It wasn’t until he saw the low life he was trying to catch grab you and pull you into a nearby alley. Jongho was out of his car and in the alley in seconds. But what he saw wasn’t the horrific image that flashed in his head. No, it was much more. Your sharp teeth covered in blood, dripping down and staining your clean clothing. Your fur is frizzy and puffed up. There was anger in your eyes. And Jongho knew two things. One, He was oddly horny about you killing someone twice your size and two, never, ever, get on your bad side. Luckily, he has never been in a direct line of your rage…. Wooyoung wasn’t so lucky.

[akutasoda]

do you think you'd kill for me?

synopsis - it was every basic troupe in a story for an officer to fall in love with the criminal but now gallagher knew why

includes - gallagher

warnings - gn!reader, reader is a criminal/stowaway, reader is cocky + flirtatious, slight mentions of hurting others + alcohol, written before gallagher comes out so maybe ooc, wc - 1.6k

a/n: had to write this for the best bloodhound, he's just being consuming my thoughts lately and i can't wait to pull for him

taglist - @teddirika, @frankiesteinn

a long drawn out sigh sounded throughout the empty office, overshadowed by the visitors steps as they turned heel and left. a faint squeak and drag of a chair soon accompanied as the remaining man stood up from his chair, he tousled and pulled at the magenta tie before his scarred hands hovered over the new report. the file lifted as he opened it unceremoniously and his eyes glossed over the details - another stowaway would be nothing new but this was the third report about the same stowaway in penacony.

gallagher really couldn't believe the nerve of some people, first they slip into the dream world unnoticed and now they dared mess with the dream world - if he wasn't so dedicated to his job he'd probably quit and become a full time bartender. low footsteps as he crossed the room after he reasoned with himself that it'd be better for everyone if he solved the issue sooner rather than later. the only outstanding issue was that nobody had ever seen the stowaway so he didn't exactly know who he was looking for but maybe that was the reason he was assigned the case.

~~~

the streets were bustling as always, it was always golden hour afterall. the skyline was rather beautiful and the chimes of the clock on the grand hotel held absolute power over the noise of the streets. pepeshi's, couples, workers, singers, and all other kinds of people walked past you completely unaware of who you were - you were even cocky enough to smile at the young bloodhounds that looked you're way.

to you breaking into penacony's oh so famous dreamscape was a challenge you set yourself. they said all you dreams could come true here and maybe you twisted that a little to see truly how much you could get away with, surely you weren't the only person wanting to act on some intrusive thoughts and test the limits of what dreams could come true. it was petty crimes to begin with really, you meant no harm. originally you just wanted to steal from a few places but unfortunately bystanders sometimes got in the way - they weren't hurt too badly, you didn't want that.

eventually you started realising how dark this dream could be, especially when you first accidentally slipped into a deeper level of the dream after trying to run from the bloodhounds. quickly, you realised that this could happen to any unsuspecting guest of penacony. a part of you thought that naybe you could put your skills to use and redeem the harm you did to someone by saving unsuspecting penacony visitors, but for the most part you kept to yourself and your slightly warped ideas.

throughout you're entire time as a stowaway you'd become quite acquainted with various bloodhounds, even though they had no clue who you were. cockiness had also developed inside you when you realised that they genuinely held no leads towards yourself and your biggest risk was when you joined some bloodhounds in a small bar and talked to them like you'd known them for years. although at that bar you're attention was dragged towards the older bloodhound behind the counter, you could tell by the little broach on his grey suit - you turned to your new 'friends' and asked them who he was, they had no idea apparently.

gallagher could catch your keen gaze staring at him for most of the night, especially because you were sat right at the bar with two bloodhounds. he'd never seen you before and maybe it was the alcohol, from his own personal flask, talking but he felt more inclined to amuse your curiosity. he served the newer customers before walking back over to you and started witha gruff 'you fetching for a new drink? or you got a question for me?' you simply smiled at his question before the corners of your lips quirked up slightly as you responded along the lines of 'can a paying patron not appreciate the bartender in his glory?'

if the bloodhound was being honest, your curiousty and outright flirtatious remarks only spurred him to entertain you more. 'how about i mix you up a new drink there, running a bit low aren't we?' he looked you straught in the eyes when you glanced back up from your drink and watched as you slid the empty, ornate glass toward him with a simple 'surprise me'. you watched attentively while he turned to grab a few bottles before grabbing the silver cocktail shaker and pouring in a mix, perfectly measured without needing to even measure numerically. gallagher had mixed drinks for patrons plenty of times but with your inquisitive gaze fixed upon his every moment made him gulp a couple more times as he became very conscious about each move he made.

eventually he finished his show by spinning the shaker in his hand before graciously pouring it out into your glass. placing a small decorative cocktail stick inside and sliding it back with a weary smirk 'a special drink for a special patron then'. you took the glass in your hands and raised it in a toasting motion before taking a swig.

gallagher would tend to the rest of the bar's patrons for the rest of the night but could always feel your gaze on him and perhaps he put on more of a show because of this, but who knows? his eyes trailed you when you finally left and he looked back over to where you had been sat to notice a small pile. a very generous tip layed neatly on rhe bar but what caught his attention the most was the note left on top:

'a tip befitting the handsome bartender who served me tonight'

beneath was signed your initials. he quickly pocketed the note before picking up the tip but not before doubling a look at the money itself.

~~~

they probably assigned him this case because they knew he knew something the rest of the bloodhound's didn't. he knew exactly who the stowaway was and where to find them. you seemed to always know when gallagher had a shift at the local bar because he knew you only showed up on those nights. each time went the same, he'd entertain your antics, you'd both pass equally flirtatious remarks, he'd make you a new drink and then you'd leave - always leaving a generous tip.

the first time you left a tip he stared at it for too long not to notice the serial number. it had become all too convenient for his encounters with you to be after a robbery in penacony and it was even more convenient that you'd left a tip each time with that places serial number on the money. admittedly, it took him a while to piece it together but maybe that was because he didn't want to believe it. the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, was when you left a note at your most recent encounter reading -

'i think you and me both know this cat and mouse game will end eventually right?'

to anyone, they might of assumed it was a weird way of asking the other out but he knew what it meant and that's why he went to the location you detailed on the other side. you knew exactly what you were doing from day one, both of you knew that. he stayed stationed at the spot you named akd he waited on guard for any signs of you, while doing so he felt a weird sense of excitement bubble inside of him. the area was rather secluded so if you showed up he'd know right whe-

'my my, the handsome bloodhound has taken up my offer. i feel rather flattered', your smug voice rang through his ears and he immediately turned around. he was greeted by the sight of you sat upon the roof of the building with that all too familiar smug face. 'are we finally cutting to the chase?' your face tilted slightly to the side before you continued 'or do you not have the confidence to be able to catch me bartender?'

oh how he hated that smug grin of yours, but oh how he loved it all the same. a small, deep chuckle left his lips before retorting 'i only gave you a headstart stowaway, don't go wasting it' he watched you stand up as you added 'don't lie to yourself gal, we both know you wouldn't catch me, because i've already made a special place for myself in your heart and you couldn't dream of putting me behind bars'

you were right. it was against the law and so so corny for the law to fall in love with the criminal. but here he was, and you both knew all too well.

[seichira]

wild enough for you.

you grow insecure with the kind of normal that sanzu haruchiyo enjoys, and you worry that he has been keeping you in the dark because you aren’t crazy enough to keep up.

pairing : kmg!sanzu x reader

content : angsty but also fluffy. encounters and mentions of usual gang and criminal activity. jealousy with comfort. suggestive. drunk reader, and sanzu taking care of you.

you should have known that you could never keep up with the very active life that your boyfriend leads.

what normal person ends up wounded and bruised on an alleyway late in the night, only to be found by an unfortunate student passing by who is forced to take the person in question home to tend to them?

that is exactly have you met him. you being the unknowing student and him being the wounded man who would’ve died if it weren’t for your golden heart.

do you not see how you should have taken the hint from the very beginning?

but no, you closed your eyes to the sketchy shit that sanzu did because at first, you were too enthralled with how pretty his eyes looked, how enviable his hair was, and how beautiful he was in spite the scars.

after moving past the undeniable physical attraction, you fall in love with him deeply for all the times he visited you, ate home-cooked dinner with you, complainingly accompanied you while you studied, and all the days you just spent together like normal couples where no gang activity is involved.

however, this translates to the fact that sanzu is the one adjusting to your life. the life you share with him is simply just your life, not his. a normal life that involves only going to school in the morning and rushing straight home at the end of the day, with a few hangouts with friends here and there.

with that being said, this doesn’t apply both ways. it’s not that you do not want to get involved with your beloved’s life that he leads on the other side of the spectrum, it’s that he wouldn’t let you.

let’s be clear. sanzu doesn’t keep it a secret.

you know well that you are in a relationship with a delinquent, and you know how that term is a dire understatement of who he really is. he tells you that he is in a gang with other powerful people he has known since he was a kid. you know that he owns a katana that doesn’t need an explanation for what he uses it for, the blood stains on his uniform and his shirts are enough to tell you.

you love him too much to care about all that, to want to count how many people he has hurt, to keep tabs on the crimes he has committed. his loving kisses are enough to make up for all the things he rather keep to himself to protect you.

but sometimes, you wish he tells you more.

“anyway, ran haitani came up to our table and offered me a drink! and he was all over me! you have no idea how hot it was, his huge hand squeezing my thighs! the jealous looks of everyone!”

you and your friend exchanged knowing looks at the mention of a familiar name from a loud conversation happening at the adjacent table.

it’s not quite the relaxed evening you expected at this chill bar you entered to refresh with your classmate from university on a friday night, but you shrug it off and let them talk about hot men all they want.

it is only at the mention of haitani’s name that you start really listening. you realize they are talking about hot men specifically from kantou manji gang.

your boyfriend’s gang.

“was sanzu haruchiyo there?” you hear a woman ask, and you sit straight up to listen intently. “he’s the hottest of them all. i would take him over everyone else in his gang on any goddamn day!”

while you agree, there is a churning feeling in your stomach that grows larger at every agreement that follows that statement. it forms a green monster of jealousy and insecurity knowing how known your boyfriend really is, and how many wants him.

“i know, right? have you seen him in that white freakin’ uniform? he’s exactly the type of guy that my dad would be horrified of if i ever dated him, but that’s the charm in him!”

“but isn’t he in a relationship? that’s why among all of them, he doesn’t approach women at all?”

“who cares? you think a man like him would ever want to settle with just one woman? dream on. he’s gonna want all the women in the world!”

“that makes sense. a crazy man like him on the loose isn’t gonna want a leash on his neck. what he needs is an equally wild woman for an adventure!”

you bite your lip and sink deeper in the cushioned couch you’re sitting on, while your friend shoots you an apologetic and comforting smile.

they have no idea that you share a bed with sanzu haruchiyo. they do not know that he comes home to you every night, asking you to clean his wounds for him. they aren’t aware of all the times you cuddle the man in question to sleep, and play with his hair.

they do not know that sanzu will die for you because he is deeply in love with you, and only you.

and in this moment, you forget that too.

as much as you trust your haruchiyo, it kills you to think that they’re probably right.

your boyfriend is all too full of life and vigor, much too exciting to be settling with your boring life. he doesn’t deserve to make himself small and contain himself in your routines. he deserves to live.

you wish you are strong enough to let him go, but still, you do not want to. you love him, and it would kill you to have to set him free.

if you can’t set him free to live the life he was born to live, the least you could do is… be wild enough.

for the rest of the night, you drown yourself in alcohol until you reach past the state of being in the right mind. you are far from sober, and your friend has no idea what to do with you.

so she grabs your phone and gives your boyfriend a quick call. her hands are trembling at the fact that she is talking to a man as dangerous as he is, but you are absolutely out of control and sanzu is the only one who knows how to deal with you.

“y/n, please! you can’t go there!” your friend pleads with you as she pulls you away from the rowdy part of the bar where the dance floor is.

it is full of creeps and people who want to get laid, and you are definitely not available for all that. but that’s part of getting wild, right?

fuck midterms! fuck your due essays! fuck university! tonight, you will be wild enough to keep up with your boyfriend, and then maybe he’ll wanna stay with you!

“it’s going to be fine!” you slur your words drunkenly, matching with the wiggling of your feet as you squeeze yourself in the ocean of people and dance with whoever stands next to you.

your friend loses sight of you, and you gain more freedom to just dance to the rhythm of the booming music. you do not care whose body you’re touching or whose drink you just accepted. you just let loose.

you have never done this before, and as much as you respect anyone who parties like this since it’s their life and they can do anything with it, it doesn’t feel like yourself. but then again, you are on a mission.

“fucking hell!”

suddenly, a strong grip wraps around your wrist and you are being forcefully dragged away from the dance floor. you giggle in your drunken state when you see your boyfriend’s back, who is currently seething with rage as he pulls you outside of the bar.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he shouts as soon as he gets you alone. “you’re gettin’ fucking drunk now, huh? dancing with other men?! you know how i could’ve snapped their necks!?”

you giggle adorably and you place your palms on his chest flirtatiously. you can’t help it when he’s in his white kantou manji uniform, and with his beautiful hair tied up in a ponytail like this.

“l-like it, hmm? wild e-enough… for you, baby?”

he doesn’t understand what the hell you’re saying but he does know that you are too drunk to keep yourself upright. he erupts in another string of continuous curses and he scoops you in his arms, to settle you inside his car, and take you home.

“h-haru… y’like me like this? wild? hmm?” you continue asking him over and over again until you get home. he still doesn’t understand, and his eyebrows almost meeting is enough clue of that.

he almost throws you on the huge couch as soon as you arrive, but he cares for you too much to ignore you so he wets a cloth to clean you with it.

sanzu haruchiyo is angry. this is the angriest you have ever seen him, but he continues wiping your body with the cloth, and it kind of sobers you up.

“i have no idea what you’re fucking thinking. first, you fail to tell me that you’ll be drinking in a bar with a friend and i would like to know that so i wouldn’t be taken by surprise like this! and then you get absolutely wasted? and dance with men! for what?!”

he is seething, and you want to start by saying sorry. but instead, you run to the bathroom to vomit out all the alcohol you downed earlier. despite his anger, he follows you to the toilet and he runs his hand up and down your back to caress it.

“there, there, it’s going to feel better now,” he comforts you, but you know his disappointment for tonight is still there.

sanzu flushes the toilet and pulls you up, guides you to the sink, and helps you wash your mouth while holding your hair for you.

you burst into tears at how gentle he handles you despite the fury going on in his system. you feel like shit, and you are both sorry and insecure.

finally, you face your angry boyfriend. he closes the distance between you until your back meets the sink and he cages you between his arms.

“explain.”

he is melting at the sight of your tears but he is dying to hear your explanations. he wants to know that you love him still, and that you don’t want other men. he needs to know that you’re not doing this because you want to break up with him. he needs you to let him know that you love him… because he loves you.

“i-i’m sorry, haru,” you manage to say in between your sobs. “i didn’t know what to do. i was scared.”

“scared? scared of what?” he asks, because how could you be scared of anything when you have a boyfriend who is head over heels for you who can just annihilate all the things that you hate?

“of losing you!”

“how could you ever lose me, huh, baby doll?” his tone softens, because at long last, he finally knows that you are afraid to lose him just like he is afraid of losing you. “that still doesn’t explain why you’d get yourself drunk like that. doesn’t make sense to me.”

“because… you keep so many secrets from me. m-makes me think i’m not worthy enough to know what you’re doing because… i’m not wild or crazy enough!”

is that what this is? sanzu hates invalidating your feelings, but shit. that explanation is fucking nuts.

“baby, i don’t keep secrets. i tell you about my day. but there are things i’d rather not let you know because… it’ll keep you safer that way.”

“so, it’s not because… i’m boring?”

he cups your face with his hands, “you entertain me just fine, baby. what the fuck is this about not being wild enough, huh? who told you you need to change anything for me? i don’t fucking care for all that.”

“it’s just that, i heard women talk about you. a while ago. they said people like you won’t want to settle down or something… ‘cuz it’ll bore you…”

“you can tie me down right now and get me fuckin’ married and i won’t complain for shit, baby. all i want is to be with you. they clearly do not know me.”

you stop sobbing but hiccups linger, making sanzu grin at how adorable you look like this. he wipes your tears away with his thumbs and he sighs loudly.

“and here i was getting worried you just wanted to dance with other men ‘cause you finally realized i wasn’t good enough for ‘ya.”

your eyes widen in surprise. “no way! that will never happen! i love you so much! how could you think that?!”

“but that’s exactly what you’re doing to me…”

his voice calms you down and you realize that he is right. “i know… i’m sorry, haru. i know you love me.”

he nods and kisses the tip of your nose. “only you. you don’t have to change anything for me. don’t have to be crazy. i can be crazy for the both of us, baby.”

[lis-likes-fics]

Love Letters

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Warnings: Murder, torture, depictions of mental illness, typical Criminal Minds content... A/N: Collabed with a couple friends about the serial killer. Guys, this was hard. Spent sooo much time building this character and then didn't even end up using all of the stuff we came up with. But it was fun and I enjoyed this and I hope you do too! Special thanks to the ones who helped me plan, @the-nerdy-goddess and @thecreature-bug and my beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen!

A knock on your classroom door has you turning your head, and you smile at the sight of the math teacher one door down.

You know why she's here, sneaking a “meeting” before all the kids get here for homeroom. You roll your eyes, scooting back in your rolling chair and crossing your arms.

“So how was the date Saturday?” Esther asks, raising a teasing brow as she walks further into the room, taking a seat right on the side of your desk. “You get lucky?”

You scoff. “I wish. The guy was boring. It was a total snooze fest.” You pick up a paper from your grading stack, marking another consecutive one hundred on little Amelia's test. “I told him I was a teacher and he told me how he had a crush on his teacher from the eighth grade.”

“Blergh,” she groans, making a face. “Was he a gentleman, at least?”

“I wish, part two. He didn't pull a chair, he didn't open a door.”

She shakes her head in disappointment and pats your back. “Your gentleman is coming to you soon. You deserve it.” She reaches over, picking up your necklace and running her thumb over the F before dropping it back down. “And I like that necklace.”

You laugh sarcastically at her, jutting your chin out toward the mirroring E around her own neck. All the fifth grade teachers wear one, a gift from Sarah’s—the science teacher’s—birthday party. “I like yours.”

She brushes the golden charm on her dark chest with a smile. She scoots off your desk. “Hey, if you're looking for another date, I might have a guy.” She winks at you, and you almost throw a pencil at her.

“Don't you have a class to teach?”

“Eventually,” she shrugs. “Small accident a few blocks away, traffic’s backed up. Buses are late–”

“–and most of your class rides the bus.” You nod, “Yeah.”

She walks to the door, patting the frame twice. “But I'll leave you be. I have copies to print.”

You shoo her away. “Goodbye.”

She winks at you again, clicking her tongue. “See you.”

~

The elevator doors close as David steps in next to Aaron. After a quick once-over, he smiles. “You look tired. Jack?”

Aaron shakes his head as he glances at his shoes, “No. Jack's fine.”

“Oh,” Dave raises his brows. “Did Aaron Hotchner have a date?”

He chuckles, amused by the assumption. “Me?”

He shrugs. “Good to have a little hope.”

Another rare chuckle passes his lips as he shakes his head again. His voice is low and soft with his amusement. “Yeah, I had a date. With a wrench and a kitchen sink.”

He hums, tilting his head from side to side as if weighing the options. “A date is a date. At least you can fix the sink.”

“Alright,” he mumbles lightheartedly.

Dave pushes the doors open as they enter the round table room, watching as the rest of the team slowly makes their way. When everyone is present and accounted for, he begins.

“What have we got, Garcia?”

Penelope sets her coffee cup down, making a face. “Oh, my little ducklings, nothing good.” The screen turns on and presents a round of crime scene photos, multiple women covered in uniform cuts all matching the other perfectly, besides the differences in the letters adorning their chests. It's graphic and strange.

Garcia avoids looking with everything she has. “Some hikers at the New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia were going about their business when they found five perfectly marked graves lined up in a row.” The presses a button and said graves are shown before and after they were dug up. When Garcia says perfect, she means perfect. The graves are perfect rectangles, all the same size and depth and almost as though someone used a ruler to make sure the lines were straight.

“The bodies found were Madeline Johnsons, Beatrice Cabrera, Clara Warner, Dakota Platt,” one more press reveals a woman with dark skin now pale with death, “and our latest victim, Esther Cooke.”

The team flips through the files they were given, analyzing the information as it comes. “All were found covered in multiple incisions all over the body, and letters carved on their chests.” She makes a face. “I don't know how much you guys gate papercuts, but I know that if I got as many as our victims here, I'd be forever emotionally ruined.”

Reid's analytical eyes take in the sight of the bodies. “It's almost reminiscent of Lingchi, translated to ‘slow slicing’ or ‘death by a thousand cuts’. It was a form of torture and execution used in China around the 10th century until the early 20th century.” He talks a mile a minute, squinting his eyes at the photos as he does.

Prentiss shrugs, “Well, one papercut is bad enough, I could never do a thousand.”

JJ brings her drink to her lips. “I couldn't do ten.” They chuckle to each other.

Morgan juts his neck toward his files. “How did they die? The wounds are made for bloodletting.”

Garcia groans lightly. “So not glad you asked. Their throats were slashed, two incisions made at each side of the neck to cut the jugulars.” She adjusts her glasses, glancing at her tablet. “Autopsy reports say very slowly and with a very sharp knife. Like the unsub was trying very hard to keep steady. They also found traces of chemicals used in disinfectant in the wounds.”

Prentiss' brows knit together. “Why not just cut it clean across?”

“Well, look, there are 26 cuts in total on all the bodies, including the one at the neck,” Reid points out. “The incisions were very specific.”

“‘Course it was, look at that pattern,” Morgan says.

Each limb has a total of six equal cuts along the top of them, with the last two finishing off at the neck. It's too specific.

“All of the letters on their chests match the beginning of their names, except for Madeline. She has an A,” Garcia explains. “Madeline's family said she went by Addy.”

“Then the letters carved into them match the first letter of their names,” JJ says. “Maybe he's trying to go through the alphabet.”

“Matches the cuts,” Rossi shrugs. “There are 26 cuts, 26 letters of the alphabet.”

“Who died first and who was last?” Hotch asks, not looking up from his screen.

“They were killed and buried in alphabetical order, sir.”

A few members of the team nod, their theory supported. Reid clasps his hands. “Paired with the perfection of the graves, the specificity of the incisions, the disinfectant, we could be dealing with someone struggling with high level obsessive compulsive disorder.”

They agree.

“But how is he targeting his victims, other than by their names?” Prentiss wonders, “I mean, how does he figure out what their names are in the first place?”

Rossi sighs, “I guess that's what we have to find out.”

Hotch looks up at his team, his stern gaze glancing among them. “Based on the timeline of these kills, we hopefully have about a week before he strikes again. Let's not give him time. Wheels up in thirty.”

~

You look up at the gentle knock on your door interrupting your silent lunch break. You clear your throat, dropping your hand from your necklace as you lay eyes on Principal Luis.

“Hey,” she greets softly. “You doing okay?”

You nod, offering a half-hearted grin. You've had to smile at your kids all day today, despite the grief, and you were really depending on your break to wind down from it. “Considering.”

“You think you could talk? There are some FBI agents here with a few questions about Esther.”

You sniff, furrowing your brows. “FBI?” For you? You supposed that makes sense. You were close enough…

Two agents walk into the room, their professional blacks offset by the colorful parade that is your classroom. It looks strange, almost silly. You stand to greet them.

The woman offers a smile, a kind face to ease any worries you may have. The man is a little more stern, but there's a gentleness you admire hidden beneath.

“Hello, Ms. Hughes,” he greets. “I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is Agent Jennifer Jareau. We're with the FBI.”

“You can call me JJ,” she says as she reaches a hand out toward you. You take it. “We're here with a few questions about Esther Cooke.”

You try not to look too miserable.

Agent Hotchner’s voice is soft as he speaks to you. “The principal said you and Ms. Cooke were close?”

You nod, crossing your arms. The classrooms are always cold. It's felt a little colder lately.

“She worked right next door,” you try not to stutter. “We were the closest in our department. I'm holding conferences tomorrow with parents about taking some of her kids into my homeroom until we find a…a replacement.”

Noticing your disquiet, JJ speaks up. “Was there anything going on in Ms. Cooke’s life? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Thinking, you shake your head. “Not really.” You shrug, “It was school, home, and not much else. The occasional night out with me, we are–” you clear your throat, “we were both single.”

Agent Hotchner adds in, “We're there any strange absences or even a trip she was going on?”

Again, you think. But nothing really comes up until– “She mentioned that she went on this tour thing with her parents last weekend, local. Some sort of…hiking thing? It's usually for tourists but they won free tickets.” Then you back track, “Is that the kind of thing you're looking for?”

JJ glances at Agent Hotchner. You're not sure what that means. “It could be.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” he asks.

You shrug. “Monday…before she went home. She didn't show up Tuesday or Wednesday, I figured she just got sick or something…forgot to tell me.” You rub your cheek with your sleeve. “I thought it was weird ‘cause she didn't call in or anything. I had to request a sub for her.”

Agent Hotchner nods. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course. Anything.”

He dug in the inside pocket of his suit. “Call us if you have anything else. Here's my card.”

You reach out to take it, your fingers brushing. It was a comforting feeling. “Thank you.” The words are gentle as they leave you. You shake out of your slight daze, “Uh, here's mine if you have any other questions for me.”

You go behind your desk, grabbing a sticky note shaped like a koala and the first pen you see (which ends up being the brightest green marker you own)... The kids love the colors.

When Agent Hotchner takes it, he almost grins. You recognize the hidden amusement in some of the kids you teach. The ones that are harder to get to open up, even at this age. It's a little sad. Those kids happen to be some of the sweetest you know.

The sight of him in a sophisticated suit with all his professionalism, holding a cutesy koala sticky note is almost comical. He nods his thanks, and then turns to JJ.

They both begin to make their exit when you stop them. “Hey.” They turn. “Did anyone find her necklace?”

“Necklace?” JJ furrows her brow.

You nod. “All the fifth grade teachers have necklaces with our letters on them. Just like this.” You pick up the little charm around your neck for them to examine. “Except she had an E.” You let it drop, scratch the back of your neck as you hum. “Her parents said they never found it when they…”

The thought of saying “dug her up” out loud was haunting, and you already felt that shrinking feeling in your gut.

JJ redirects. “Would she normally take it off?”

You shake your head quickly. “Not Esther. She loves–” you sigh, annoyed now that you keep making the mistake of present tense. As an English teacher, it hurts more somehow. “She loved that necklace. We all do. We wear it nearly every day. Especially now.”

Agent Hotchner nods again, a really gentle movement that you honestly appreciate. “We'll keep an eye out,” he says. “Thank you for your time.”

You nod back at him, offering what smile you can. “Thanks.”

They leave and you check the time. You'd have to get your kids from lunch soon.

~

“Did she have anything?” Morgan wonders as Hotch and JJ return.

JJ’s teasing brows bounce. “Other than Hotch’s number? A bit.”

Rossi smirks, leaning across the table. “Did you find something special with our Ms. Hughes?” He puts emphasis on the title so Hotch is fully aware of her marital status.

“Let's focus, please.”

Hotch doesn't seem particularly annoyed, but there is a case at hand and he wants it solved as fast as possible.

Besides, it would be unprofessional to call her like this…asking her on a date after questioning her about her recently deceased.

The team giggles quietly amongst themselves. Children. But they do focus in as Morgan's phone rings as a signal to their resident oracle.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“I ran those credit card records like Hotch asked,” she starts. “All of which come up with very different results with no special link but one: three of the five all purchased hiking tickets for a guided trail a few days before they went missing. But they're very popular trails, tourists and families go all the time.”

“Hiking trail?”

“Is that significant?”

JJ looks around at the group. “Ms. Hughes said Esther Cooke’s parents won free tickets. They just went last weekend.”

“That would explain why it doesn't show up on the credit card records,” she says. The clack of her keyboard fills the space before she's speaking again. “Oh, yes, I see. The reservation is written in her mother's name.”

Reid looks up from the board where he worked on his geographical profile. “Clara loved out of state,” he says, “she was visiting. That could be how he found out about her.”

Rossi agrees. “So he's choosing most of his victims at the trail. Maybe he's a guide?”

JJ shrugs, “But how is he picking his victims?” She walks over to the pictures of all the victims hung up, their differences glaring as she shakes her head. “He's compulsive, he can't do it at random.”

“I don't think it is,” Hotch says. Eyes fall on him, urging clarification. “Ms. Hughes said something that stuck out to me. Esther Cooke always wore a necklace with the first letter of her name on it, but it was missing from the crime scene.”

The wheels turn in Reid’s head as he breaks away from his map. He picks up the crime scene photos, sorting through them to compare them to the headshots of the victims lining another board. “We might have something,” he mumbles. He picks up the first victim’s pictures. “Here, you can see Madeline wore a necklace with her nickname, Addy, on it. But at the burial site, it's missing.”

Prentiss catches on, picking another. A quick examination has her nodding along. “And look here. Clara had one, too. Hers is just a C.”

Rossi’s heavy brows furrow. “So you think he's targeting these women based on their necklaces?”

Reid words fly from his mouth as he speaks. “If he's killing them, burying them, and carving their letters all in alphabetical order, that could be his trigger—seeing the letters already in place and feeling the need to make it permanent, perfect.”

Morgan picks up Esther's picture, nodding. “We ready to give the profile?”

“I think so. Garcia,” her attention is lightning quick at the sound of her name, just like her wit, “get me a list of everyone who went on those trails and every guide who has led the ones our victims participated in.”

“That list is going to be longer than the Nile, but like Neith, I shall be victorious,” she declares.

Prentiss adds in. “Go ahead and narrow that down to white males who live in the area.”

“That helps.”

“Thank you, babygirl.”

“Happy to help, my salacious little snack.” She smacks the “ck”. He can hear the smirk in her voice. “I'll have that list in a jiffy.” Morgan chuckles as the call ends.

~

You plaster a grin on your face as you welcome in the next pair. It's been a long day already. The children have been a little fussy, others just sad, about the changes going on during class. The parents you've seen already have been awkward, annoyed, or (on the better occasion) nice, and you're ready to go home.

Just a few more meetings, then you can go home.

“Hello,” you greet. “Thank you for coming in.”

Ms. Tucker smiles gently, doing her best to be kind. She's one of the more patient parents. Her husband on the other hand… You've never been able to describe him as patient.

“Could we make this quick?” Mr. Tucker asks, checking his watch. He blinks harshly once, twice, three times, before looking back up at you. “I've got an appointment in an hour and…thirteen minutes.”

“Don't be rude, Larry,” his ex-wife insists, rolling her eyes as they take a seat in the chairs set in front of your desk. You sit as well, mentally bracing yourself for his meeting.

“Well, she's bringing us in here to tell us our kid isn't doing well in school. How do you want me to behave?” Another tight blink follows as he whispers under his breath, “Behave, behave.”

Ideally, these meetings should take no more than maybe five minutes. But parents make that difficult sometimes.

“Maybe if you spent more time with Peter, he wouldn't be having trouble,” she insists.

The animosity coming off the two of them is creating an environment that makes you want to kick them out of your room and do what you want. But you can't.

He scoffs. “Spend more ti–”

“Actually…”

They turn back to you then, remembering you're there as they close their mouths and listen. “We're not here to talk about his behavior. Peter has been wonderful in class.”

You grab Peter's file. It's just a stack of papers with Esther's old notes for him and his grades. You clear your throat quietly. “As you may know, the teacher next door to me just passed, and we are rearranging her classes until we can find a suitable replacement because we are short staffed.”

You hate saying “replacement”. These meetings have been hard enough simply because she's gone, but being the one of the people already working to replace her has been mentally taxing.

You pull your necklace from inside your shirt, sighing as you look up at them, toying with the charm.

You don't catch it. The movement is so slight and the whisper is so gentle that the moment goes completely over your head as Mr. Tucker's eyes lock on your charm. Under his breath falls a small, “F…F, F.”

“This conference was just to ask about whether or not it would be alright to transfer Peter into my class,” you continue, grasping the top pages out of the file. “Otherwise, his behavior has been fine. He's a smart boy with good grades. Ms. Cooke’s notes do say that he has a bit of trouble mixing with classes though, and he can be a little distracted. Another reason he would switch, he needs the extra social help.”

Ms. Tucker leans in slightly. “You said he has trouble mixing in?”

You nod, tilting your head as you remember Peter's behavior during your classes. “He's a little lonely.”

Mr. Tucker murmurs under his breath, holding onto the words. “Lonely.” His brows twitch. “Lonely…lonely.” You know they're tics, so you try not to make it obvious that you've caught it.

“He got along well with the teachers, but he's closed off to the other students. She saw that a couple of other kids picked on him, but they were little things that we were able to solve fairly quickly.” You sigh, thinking for a moment. You have to choose the right words, or this will end in an argument. “I would recommend trying to get him into things outside of school. A sport or a club, just something to get him to interact with more kids.”

Ms. Tucker is all ears as you speak, taking in what she can as she contemplates a solution. Her ex-husband seems a little out of focus, however. He watches you, his eyes taking you in, in a way that makes you uncomfortable.

“It also helps when the parents are on the same page,” you push through, ignoring the crawling in your skin and focusing on this child and his needs. “I realize you went through a divorce recently, which can be tough on your son. I know it's not my business to manage your relationship, but for the sake of your son, it's important not to be hostile in front of him. It could force him into thinking he has to choose a side, which can lead to negative effects on his mental health.”

She nods, soaking it in. “We can talk about it. You have our permission to take him in.”

“Yes.” Mr. Tucker nods. You watch his head dip three times. “Yes, yes.”

You sigh internally, glad the meeting is coming to a close. “Thank you,” you smile. “Did you have any questions for me?”

He replies, smiling as well. “No. Thank you.”

“Alright,” you close Peter's file, “then we should be good.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Tucker says. She reaches a hand out to shake your hand, and you take it. Her ex-husband does the same, though he lingers a little longer than you appreciate.

“Of course.”

They leave. You take a moment to breathe before you welcome in the next parents. And two meetings later, you've wrapped everything up. After clearing your desk, you snatch your things and head straight for the door.

You're happy to know it's not too late when you step out of the building. The sun is still up, but the moon is beginning to show with the coming evening. As you make your way to your car in the relatively lonely parking lot, it blinks when you unlock the doors.

You open the back door to throw your things inside, slamming it shut and opening the front in one movement.

You don't hear the footsteps behind you over the sound of your relief about the end of your day. So when something comes down hard at the back of your head, your pain and surprise is interrupted by the sudden darkness that overcomes you.

~

“You're on speaker.”

Garcia’s voice arises from Morgan's voice like the oracle she is. “Then I shall speak my prophecy for all to hear. I narrowed that list down significantly to the tour guides that lead the trails all of the victims went on—except the one who didn't. Speaking of, it turns out that our odd one out, Dakota Platt, put in an application to work as a guide but was denied. Anyway, I came up with three matches.”

Rossi hums. “Narrow the list to anyone recently going through a major change. A divorce, potential job loss, something like that.”

The sound of Garcia’s keyboard is heard over the phone, her voice coming a second later. “That takes one out. There's Perry Williams, he's just suffered a loss in the family—his mother died of lung cancer four months ago, around when the killings started. Then there's one other, Laurence Tucker, who just went through a divorce around a year ago. He's fighting a custody battle with his wife, started a couple weeks before the estimated time of the first murder.”

“Can you take a look at their medical histories?” Prentiss requests.

“Tucker has diagnosed OCD. He stopped taking his meds at the same time as the divorce.”

JJ is already on her feet as she slips her phone in her pocket. “That's our guy.” The rest of the team follow suit.

“I've just sent his home address to your phones.”

Hotch is packing his things as he speaks. “Garcia, go through his history. There may be something to suggest where he may be taking his victims to torture them. He can't be taking them home.”

Morgan raises the phone to his mouth. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

“Anything for you. Garcia out.”

~

“Clear.”

At the sound of the last check, Hotch lowers his gun as he sighs. “Hotch.” He looks over to see Reid peeking his head out of a room down the hall. He follows him, walking inside and following his gaze down to Reid’s hand, where he's holding a necklace he's pulled from a dark box on the dresser.

There are four necklaces neatly arranged within it, the fifth in Reid’s hand. An E for Esther.

His phone rings. “Yes, Garcia?”

She speaks quickly. “Our guy grew up in the area and attended a schoolhouse when he was little that was shut down years ago for unusual practices with the students. Reports found that the teachers there used to discipline ‘bad kids’—and by bad, I'm not talking just behavior, these are kids with diagnosed Autism, ADHD, OCD, the whole alphabet. Oh…maybe that wasn't the best word.”

“How were they disciplined?” Reid asks, pulling her back on track.

“Oh, right! The teachers used to slap hands with rulers and spank these children, sometimes with paddles. Sometimes kids would come home with big red letters drawn on their chests or clothes when they received failing grades as a way to shame them into passing.” She hums, “I'm guessing that's where the signature comes from.”

Reid sets the necklace down, “Is the building still up?”

“Like I said, it was shut down years ago. It was marked for demolition, but they never got around to it. The building still very much exists, and it's covered in wooden boards and caution tape.”

Hotch nods. “Send us the address. This could be where he's killing them.”

“Already done,” she says. “Also, fun fact. I learned that Tucker's son attends the school Esther Cooke taught at. Apparently, he was one of her students.”

A chill ran down Hotch’s spine as he thought about that. Scrambling in his jacket, he pulls out the koala sticky note in the inside pocket. “Garcia, I need you to give me another address.”

Reid’s brow furrows at his sudden haste. “What's wrong?”

“Ms. Hughes held conferences today for the parents of children Esther Cooke taught.”

Reid walks after him as Garcia retrieves the address. “So?”

“She wears an F.”

~

Your bleary eyes are so dazed and heavy. Mixed with the pain, it was hard to keep your head up and your eyes open. The letters lining the top of the walls, the alphabet which wraps around the room, fly around your head. It mixes with the chairs and desks, arranged so neatly around the room, lining the walls like the letters do. There's chalk and pencils and paper, all old and run down but set so neatly. The chaos and the tidiness is maddening.

It really hurts. Your arms and legs are covered in cuts, slow and methodical and painful. Your limbs shake with exhaustion, sweat sticks to your forehead and you feel heavy and sick. He'd removed your necklace. It's sitting on the desk where he keeps the rest of his supplies. You want it back.

His disorder is evident, and it bleeds over you with a glaring taunt. Every time he cuts you, he measures it with a ruler, and then you're thrown through the added torture of him disinfecting the wound each time. He counts it each time. He chants under his breath every time he cuts you, every time you talk, every time he blinks.

You just want to go home.

“Mr. Tucker, please,” you beg for the hundredth time, your plea falling on deaf ears.

He shakes his head, his ruler in the middle of your thigh. You want to move it. If he can't make a precise cut, he won't cut. But you don't have the strength. It's taking a lot to keep your head up.

“Hush,” he urges absentmindedly. “Hush, hush.” He adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose, careful not to use his hands.

“Why are you doing this?”

His attention is razor sharp as he measures. “I have to.”

It’s the most answer he's given you so far. Maybe if you just keep him talking, you'll be able to talk him out of it. You keep your voice gentle, trying not to sound as pained as you are. “Why?” you ask, though your voice wavers. “What did I do? What did Esther do?”

The name seems to spark something as he nods three times. “E, E, E.”

Your brow furrows. “Is this because of our necklaces?”

He shakes his head this time. Three times. “You won't understand.”

You sigh heavily. “Then help me understand.”

“You won't, you won't.” He picks up the knife, and you flinch away from him. “You won't.”

You keep trying. “You just have to talk to me,” you give him the best smile you can. “You can talk to me, Larry.” If you say his name, maybe you'll appeal to him. You can make it personal. You have to try something.

He mutters under his breath, as though he's thinking. “Talk, talk…talk.”

You nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. Just put the knife down, and we can talk.”

A scream tears through your throat as he drags the sharp blade across your thigh. It burns and it sears and tears stream down your cheeks at the feeling.

“19, 19, 19.”

You don't know what number he's going to, but you're scared for what he'll do when he finishes counting.

You struggle around the lump in your throat to speak, forcing out a breath to try and level yourself. “Is this about your OCD?” He glances up at you, but he doesn't give it too much thought. “I recognize it. Peter has early signs.”

“Peter,” he mumbles, finally taking pause to think. He hums and blinks.

“Yes, Peter,” you urge. “Your son. If you keep going, you could hurt him.” It's hard to see past your tears, but you keep going anyway. “When you get caught, and you will get caught, Peter will be taken away from you forever. He'd never forgive you.”

“Forgive me,” he huffs, shaking his head and rubbing his face. He grips his ruler in one hand. “Forgive me, forgive me.” He presses the ruler to the other leg, “Stop talking.”

You try to squirm, “Larry– Ah!” You purse your lips to stifle your shout, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your fists.

“20, 20, 20.”

A round of sobs rack through you. You can't hide the pain anymore. It's so evident, and it's so intense. You can't breathe. You hiss as the disinfectant stings.

“Please,” you cry. “Please, just tell me why.”

He shakes his head. He's upset now, you can see it in the crease of his brow, in the excessive head shakes, in the way he rubs his face so roughly. “They said I have to.”

“Who?”

“My teachers.” He looks around the room, and his eyes fall on the alphabet lining the walls.

You follow his gaze. The schoolhouse actually makes sense now. You thought he'd chosen it because it was abandoned…

“I can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet, alphabet.” He says it like he's reciting something, like he's punishing himself.

Your breath is heavy, you blink rapidly, trying to see past your tear-filled eyes. “Your teachers made you do this?”

God, sometimes you hate teachers.

He rubs at his eyes, sighing heavily. “A, A, A,” he begins, speaking quickly and almost like he's struggling to speak. It reminds you of memorization methods. Sometimes you suggest it to students who have trouble remembering vocab—write it down over and over until you remember. Maybe that's why he's doing it? “B, B, B. C, C, C. D, D, D. E, E, E. F.”

He opens his eyes and points his knife at you. “F. F.”

The fear flares within you again. You try not to turn to a blubbering mess. You can't communicate with him if you can't speak properly. “Is that what you're doing?”

He moves to your arm. You try to pull at the duct tape he's got wrapped securely around your hands. You've been trapped here so long, your hands are numb, your wrists are bruising.

“Have to get to Z, Z, Z.”

You almost shout it when he presses the ruler to your arm. “Listen, listen, listen!” you say it in a rush, so, so scared. He actually stops. “Okay, they said to say it three times, right? You have to write it three times?”

The number triggers his tic. “Three, Three, three.” It's honestly becoming annoying. It's insistent and repetitive and it feels almost invasive. But you have to be patient or he'll just kill you faster.

“You don't have to do this.” Your face is itchy from the tears drying and re-wetting, but you can't scratch. “You're gonna be okay.”

He's not listening anymore. “Behave,” he warns, holding the knife to your face. “Behave.” He shakes his head. “Behave.”

He's stopped listening. Despite your screams, he measures and cuts and cleans and measures and cuts and cleans, repeating each number as he comes to it with calculated method.

You clench your fists as the knife digs into your thigh again. You're surprised you can get your broken cries out as you struggle to breathe.

He stands up, taking large steps back to look at his work. You suppose he's almost done, and that terrifies you.

You think about your students, the little kids in your classroom who have already lost one teacher and are now going to lose a second. All those good kids are going through so much already. They all loved Esther. You know they all loved you. You have a wall of art, holiday cards, and plenty of hugged legs to show for it.

You don't want to lose them. You don't want them to lose you.

In a last ditch effort to dissuade him from his pursuits, you shake your head and sigh heavily. “Please.”

He comes closer to you, squinting his eyes to try to ease you. “Shh, shh, shh,” he says. “Just close your eyes. It'll be over soon, soon, soon.”

He presses the ruler to your neck, and you don't have the strength to fight it. It inspires more tears as you shake your head weakly. “Please, please, please.” You chant it, closing your eyes shut. You brace for the end…

Both of you jump when the loudest crash resonates within the room. Wood splinters and heavy boots stomp against the floor. Startled, he staggers back. You open your eyes, lights flashing as the room crowds with armoured people.

“Laurence Tucker, drop the knife.”

You know that voice. You recognize it. It's hard to see past the lights and the tears in your eyes. You know him.

“Can't! Can't. Can't, I have to finish. I have to finish. I have to finish.”

He's panicking. Too many things happening at once, everything out of order, everything out of control. He grips the knife tighter, looking between you and the cops in the room.

Someone else, their voice louder and less patient, shouts. “Drop the knife now!”

“Behave, behave. Behave!”

Someone else's voice, softer and somehow understanding, speaks. Though the voices are beginning to blur. “We know what your teachers did to you,” he bids. “We know how they hurt you.”

They hurt him.

He shakes his alphabet, losing it over the chaos. His frustration is palpable. Every time they speak, he gets more and more angry. “Can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet. I'm supposed to do the alphabet!”

“Larry,” you speak, your voice hoarse from overuse. You catch your breath, keeping your voice level. Like you're talking to one of your students. He's scared, he's angry. He needs patience. “Larry, look at me.”

You can practically feel the concern of the agents rolling off of them. They don't want you misspeaking and making him more upset than he already is.

But he looks at you, and he seems to respond to the softness because his furrowed brows shift very slightly, his anger turns to some semblance of fear.

Although it hurts, you try to smile. It's taking so much to lift your head, even more to get the words out without the heaviness of your rising fear and exhaustion.

“They were bad teachers.” He rubs his face, but you press on, speaking slowly. “They weren't supposed to hurt you. Teachers are supposed to help. They were wrong.”

He closes his eyes. “They were wrong,” he whispers, like he's trying to convince himself. “They were wrong, wrong.”

The desperation seeps in. “Let me help you,” you whisper. “Let them help you.”

“Help me,” he mutters, his voice as quiet as yours. “Help me, help me.”

The first voice, the one you know, he speaks again, patient but still an order. “Drop the knife, and we can help you.”

“Help me,” he whispers. Slowly, he moves as he contemplates the words. “Help me.” They raise their guns in alarm, but he keeps crouching until he's finally kneeling on the floor. He grips the knife. “Help me.”

“Just breathe, Larry,” you huff. The spark of adrenaline you'd gotten from your rescue is wearing off again. You feel like you might pass out. “It'll be okay,” you mutter. “It's going to be okay, it'll be okay.”

He stares at the floor, thinking. “Okay…okay,” he drops the knife, and it clatters to the floor. “Okay.”

They make quick work of cuffing him, forcing his hands behind his back as the metal clinks against itself.

An agent immediately rushes to you, and you immediately recognize him, just as you had his voice. Agent Hotchner kneels before you, carefully removing the duct tape around your wrists and ankles. “Are you alright?” His voice is so soft and gentle. You lean into it as your eyelids become heavier and heavier.

“I think I'm gonna pass out.”

Your voice is scratchy when you speak. He looks you over, and his hand comes to press against your cheek. It's oddly intimate, though you know it's for comfort. You lean into the warmth. It's helping.

“No, you won't,” he says as he removes the tape wrapped around your middle. “I've got you.” He glances behind him, throwing his demand over his shoulder. “Get me a medic.”

He turns back to you. “Can you stand?”

You want to say yes, but you genuinely don't think so. You shake your head, “I don't know.”

“Do you want me to help you stand?”

You nod, the movement choppy. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. He wraps his arm under yours, lifting you slowly, carefully, like you're fragile and precious. “Can you tell me your name?”

Your words are sticky and slow. You genuinely think you're going to pass out. “You know my name.”

“Yes, I do.” He nods, and when you glance up at him, he's giving you the gentlest smile, and you feel like everything is going to be okay. “Can you make sure I have it right?”

You hum. “Fawn Hughes.”

You're so discombobulated that you don't even give him your birth name, instead the one granted to you since you were little.

“Fawn,” he mutters. “Is that your nickname?”

You nod, slowly, and hum.

“It's nice.”

The both of you make your way as he helps you hobble out of the schoolhouse and into the evening air, past golden hour where pinks and purples coat the sky. It goes a little faster when the medic finally arrives. They help you onto a stretcher, and Agent Hotchner apologizes every time you whine at the pain.

When you're settled, he gives you a gentle nod. You grab his hand before he can turn to leave, hoping he doesn't notice the way you wince and knowing he does. “Thank you,” you mutter.

He sighs gently. “Don't thank me.”

“Thank you,” you say again, a little more insistent this time. You swallow thickly, the falling adrenaline increasing the solemnity as your exhaustion begins to crash down on you in waves. You're surprised when you feel a tear slip down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline. You'd cried so much already, you weren't aware you still could. “He was going to kill me. If you hadn't come through, I'd be dead. So thank you.”

He looks down at you, nodding gently, the movement almost imperceptible. “You're welcome.” He glances at the medic, and then toward the ambulance waiting for you. “They'll take care of you.”

You didn't want to ask, but the need is too strong. You're so scared, and he's the only one here you truly trust. Besides the fact that he'd come to your rescue, you don't necessarily know why.

“Can you please stay?”

He thinks for a moment. Really, he should be here helping the rest of the team. But as he looks over, locking eyes with Rossi talking with Prentiss, he looks between the two of you and sends him a nod.

Agent Hotchner turns back to you and nods. “Yes.”

You want to thank him again, but you know he'll just tell you not to. As they load you into the ambulance, he holds your hand, and you lay back and answer the medics questions.

~

“Mom, I'm fine.”

You sigh, as your mother's worried voice rises from the other end of your phone. “You were kidnapped and tor—Shit!—tortured by a deranged serial killer. I have a right to be worried.”

“Well, you don't have to be. I'm okay. See?” You show her the bandages wrapped around your arms. “Patched up and healthy. Doctors say I should be out of here tomorrow morning.”

“We'll be there by then.”

“You don't have to come down.”

“Hush. We're coming down, and you can't stop us. I love you, and we'll see you in the morning.”

She hangs up before you can respond. You shake your head and sigh, setting your phone down. At least you know she was worried about you.

You glance up when you hear a knock at your door. “Come in.”

The door opens as Hotch steps inside. His face is gentle, though without a smile. You miss it in a way as you offer your own.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice just as soft.

You take in a breath. “Okay,” you say. “Considering.” You motion to your phone on the bedside table. “Got off the phone with my mom, she's…already on her way from out of state.”

He closes the door gently behind him, sitting on the chair beside your bed. “She's worried about you.”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” You sigh, glancing over at him. His eyes are on you. Your lip twitches, fighting a bigger smile. You clear your throat. “Doctor said I'll scar, but…the knife was so sharp and steady enough that they should scar fine… They're discharging me in the morning.”

“That's good.”

“Yeah.”

Honestly, the quiet is nice. You look at him, at the features of his face, the softness mixed with his professionalism looks good on him.

“We retrieved this from the schoolhouse,” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit. He hands you a necklace, your necklace. You smile gently, reaching out for it as he places it in your palm.

You're going to have trouble wearing it for a while, but it's nice to have it back. You look up at him thankfully.

“We also found this at Tucker's house.”

He hands you a second necklace. It's identical to your own, except this one has an E…for Esther.

You swallow the rising lump in your throat. Your smile aches as you breathe through the tears threatening to well in your eyes. You look up at him, your smile trembling as you hold back tears you've already shed. “Thank you.” He nods, smiling very briefly. “I'll, uh…I'll get it back to her family.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

Another comfortable silence falls over you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, wrapping the necklace around your fingers as you think. Something's on his mind.

“What is it?” you mutter.

He contemplates for a moment before he speaks. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you manage to talk him down so well? You seemed so…calm.”

You look down at Esther's necklace, thinking for a moment as you shrug. You speak slowly, clearing your throat as you rub the thumb of your free hand along the white bandage on your forearm.

“He told me his teachers made him do it.” You close your eyes and take a steadying breath, the events of the night before too fresh to ignore. “That agent…said his teachers hurt him, so I treated it like an abusive parent situation. He just needed someone to be on his side.”

You hate that it had to be you, but at least you understand why he did what he did. You almost hate that you understand. “He was hurt as a kid. That kid needs to know he's not alone.”

Hotch thinks about that, nodding gently. “You're a wonderful teacher.”

His words are genuine. It warms you and puts you back at ease. “Thanks.” You smile at him, his little one reflecting back at you. “I guess I'll just have to figure out what to do with myself until they let me go back to my kids.”

A tiny chuckle escapes him. It's a good sound for him. “I think the children will be fine.” You chuckle as well, the sound of his laugh a contagious thing that you can't help.

He glances over his shoulder, out of the open blinds of your room to see Rossi standing in the hall. Hotch’s smile simmers down as they make eye contact. He nods, standing to his feet with a sigh.

“I have to go,” he says, almost regretfully. “Get well soon.”

You turn your palm up as it rests in your lap, wanting to reach for him but not wanting to seem desperate. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me, Ms. Hughes.”

After a moment, Hotch turns toward the door, placing his hand on the handle. “Agent Hotchner?” you call timidly, your heart thumping in your chest and your palms clammy. He pauses on his way to the door, turning back to you with a gentle look.

You clear your throat, dipping your head and trying not to seem as nervous as you feel. You almost died. If that didn't tell you how short life is, you don't know what will. Asking wouldn't hurt.

“I know you're probably busy and all, but…” you lick your bottom lip, summoning the courage to look him in the eyes as you smile nervously. “Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?” You think for a moment, “I'll stop thanking you so much if you do.”

Since meeting this man, the smile he gives you is the largest you've seen on him. It summons your own beaming grin as he looks at you with cheeks you swear are tinted pink. He chuckles gently, taking a couple slow steps to you as he nods. “I would love to.” All the weight of your worries lift from your shoulders with a sigh. “Please, call me Aaron.”

Your cheeks warm at his gentle affection. You have to clear your throat to speak. “Okay, Aaron,” you say. “But only if you call me Fawn.”

Another tiny chuckle comes out of him. “Where did Fawn come from?”

It’s a genuine question, an innocent curiosity you're happy to sate. “I used to be obsessed with deer as a kid. The nickname stuck,” you say with a shrug. “Some people think it's stupid, though. You can call me by my–”

His interruption isn't rude. In fact, you have to fight the urge to hide your face away as he says next, “I'm looking forward to that dinner, Fawn.”

You smile. “I'll hold you to that.”

Aaron gives you one last smile, saying a soft goodbye as he leaves the room to join Rossi, who gives him the biggest smirk he's ever witnessed.

As David opens his mouth to say something, Aaron stops him immediately with a raised hand and an annoyed grin on his face. “Don't.”

David raises his hands in defense, walking silently next to Aaron to join the team.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300

[clairdelunelove]

thinking about yuuji and his puppy dog eyes.

he’s normally starry eyed and so intrigued by what you have to say. the epitome of a golden retriever boyfriend. just an active listener because if you’re talking about it then it must hold some importance to you. and that’s enough for him to drop what he’s doing and pay close attention to whatever you have to say. but then he’s giving you those pleading eyes to give him a kiss.

just an innocent peck won’t hurt. you don’t mind if he leans closer and basks in your warmth, do you? it’s been a while since he’s had you all to himself. well, according to yuuji, a couple hours of not sticking by your side is almost a criminal offense. and don’t mind his hands tugging at the curve of your waist to pull you in closer. you were just so pretty today. just can’t believe his luck of wooing you. and he’s secretly grateful that the weather’s warming up because you’re adorned in shorter clothes and dainty ruffles. it’s always his favorite on you (not that he minds what you typically wear.) it’s just– there’s something about snagging a glimpse of your plush skin that riles him up. how soft you are compared to all his calluses and scars. the sole purpose of why he works so hard to be your protector and provider. makes him sweat along the collar of his shirt as he desperately tries to not let his gaze roam. but it’s so noticeable. his eyes literally droop if he stares too long. and of course his eyes are the shade of liquified honey; the right amount of glassy and desperate that you yearn for. you can spot the forceful swallow of his throat as he stares. it’s so apparent because he doesn’t even attempt to hide it when he's this deprived of you. but that’s not what you want, right? you just ushered him to the side to tell him about your day. and while you’re running through your usual mundane schedule, he’s brushing a strand of hair away from your face. did you doubt that he wouldn’t be listening? no, no, no; he’s concentrating. takes into account how the pitch of your voice climbs higher when he cups a big, possessive hand on the back of your neck. drags you to him with the promise that he’s still paying attention. and he almost groans when he hears the tiny noise of surprise you utter at his subtle display of strength. he’s so strong but he treats you so delicately. you recognize the carnal glimmer in his eyes. yet, you don’t make a move to stop him. you’re too good to him. so you won’t mind if he starts placing wet kisses down your neck to interrupt you for a second, will you? end his suffering and let him touch you now, please.

[yourthemaster11-blog]

And now announcing...F/ONovembuh!

Brian: Don't get those glasses, you read correctly folks! F/Ovember is here and it's looking to be the best one yet! Pomni: Isn't it the best one by..de-default? It IS your first one after all! Brian: True as that may be Pomni, EVERY year is the best one! I mean, when is F/Ovember NOT the best occasion in the history of history?! Sarah: Yeah Pomni, listen to Brian some more! For a clown, you can be pretty uptight! Kim: He DOES have both optimism AND pragmatism on his side! He's a bit of a mixer-upper like that! Vanessa: Isn't that the truth? It helps for spy missions, that's for sure! Pomni: sighs Okay, I guess you got me there. And you're not wrong, Brian DOES have the boundless enthusiasm you need for an event like this! Brian: That I do! And hopefully all of you do too, because you'll get to ask ANYTHING and I mean ANTYTHING!..Except whether or not pineapple pizza is good, that one will never change! Sarah: Oh my god, I totally agree! Whoever made it has tastebuds of barf! Kim: It's not my favorite, no. Vanessa: Who's is it? But yes, feel free to ask any question and we'll do our best to answer! Pomni: I guess that signals the start of… Everyone: Bri's Shipping Bonanza's F/OVember! confetti goes off Brian: Neat…I've never seen purple strings of confetti before…

[atlabeth]

weight of the world

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy returns to camp after a successful quest. luke battles his guilt.

a/n: a lot of you guys seemed to like the percy pov and the pure angst of luke doing all this stuff to his first love's brother percy jackson instead of just percy jackson and first and foremost i would like to say you're all crazy but i also agree. so here you go. title from the jon bellion song

wc: 5.6k

warning(s): reader is dead (i feel like i have to tag this every time lmao). angst made angstier with fluffy flashbacks. tlt betrayal scene (pit scorpion edition). everyone is so sad

When Percy returned to camp with Annabeth and Grover, they were hailed as heroes. 

It might not have felt like it on the road, isolated with just the three of them, but they’d prevented a third World War. They certainly stopped camp from getting destroyed, if what Luke told them was true about the cabins taking sides. 

Burning their burial shrouds felt even better, especially with the Ares cabin’s expert craftsmanship. Apparently it was a tradition because demigods died so frequently on quests—Percy took pride in breaking that unsettling standard. 

It turned out all he needed to come into his own was to go on a quest everyone thought would kill him and not die. 

He excelled during his sword fighting lessons—going against a god would do that for you—he’d gotten much better at using his powers—going against a god would also do that for you—and his team always dominated on the lake during races, though that might’ve just been him cheating. 

He’d even started getting used to the Poseidon cabin in all its emptiness. It still felt too lonely, but he was working on it. The first thing he did when he got back to the cabin was pin your photo on the wall—Cabin Three belonged to you as much as it did to him.

And of course, everyone wanted to hear about how Percy saved the world. He’d told the story of his quest about a hundred times since he got back, sometimes with Annabeth piping in to set the record straight, sometimes with Grover dramatically setting the scene, always with a million different questions in between about how everything went down. 

Tonight was no different in the amphitheater—a group of Athena kids wanted to hear about his fight against Ares again—but he managed to get out of giving them the excruciating play-by-play courtesy of campfire songs. Percy didn’t really mind, though—any night with a large, golden fire was a good night in his books. 

Which was kind of how he ended up giving Luke the play-by-play of his quest. Maybe it was bragging, but he hadn’t seen who he considered his first friend at camp in a while. And yeah, sue him, but he wanted to impress Luke. He was cool and nice and good at everything, and Percy wanted to prove he’d made him proud. 

“—And I thought I didn’t stand a chance, but she taunted me and told me to jump into the water if I was really Poseidon’s kid. So I did, and it worked, and somehow I lived.” Percy shook his head with a slight laugh. “It ended up all over the news. I was a nationally wanted criminal for a couple days. We also blew a bus up, and rode with a zebra and a lion to Vegas, and went to the Underworld— gods, we did so much. It was crazy, honestly.” 

Luke chuckled. “I’m sure.” 

Percy glanced over at him, his brows creasing when he saw his distant gaze. He didn’t think Luke heard a single word. “You good, man?” 

He blinked and focused back on Percy, and though he smiled it was strained. “Yeah. Sorry—spaced out for a second. You were talking about your quest?” 

Percy nodded slowly. “Yeah. The whole criminal thing.” 

His smile turned a little more genuine. “You made front page news, too. I think you became the idol of a lotta kids here.”

“Oh, god,” he said with a frown. “You guys get news here?” 

“Couple New York papers,” he nodded. “You’re camp-famous.” 

Percy huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It feels crazy. I just got here a month ago, and everything’s already changed so much.” He looked over at Luke. “What did you do after you got home from your quest?” 

“...It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a shrug. “I mean, getting to camp after so many years on the road was rough—coming back to camp after getting this—” he tapped his scar— “didn’t help.” 

“How did you get that?” he asked. 

“You’re always trying to get the saddest stories out of me,” Luke said wryly. “You know you can read books, right?” 

“I can’t, actually,” Percy said. "Not well."

Luke laughed and shook his head, his gaze falling back to the fire. Percy took it as him moving on. 

“I— I know I’m kind of proving your point, but… I wanted to ask you if I could have a couple more pictures” Percy cleared his throat, brushing a few dark strands of hair out of his face. “Of my sister, I mean. Obviously, you have way more of a right to them than I do, but— but Cabin Three’s a little bare. I thought adding a couple current things to the old stuff she put up would be nice.” 

His throat bobbed, and it took him a second, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah— sure.”

“Tomorrow after breakfast?” he asked. “I’ve got some free time before I have to go down to the forge.”

Luke nodded again. “Sure. You still have that picture I gave you?”

“Of course,” he said. “I already put it up on the wall. Do you want it back?”

His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, you deserve to have a piece of her with you. And I’m sure she’d say the same.”

“I asked my dad about her, y’know,” Percy said. Luke’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back at him. “I went to Olympus on my own to return Zeus’s bolt, and the two of them were there. My dad and I got some alone time, and…” he shrugged. “I already annoyed two gods that day. Figured a third wouldn’t be that crazy.”

“What did he say?” 

“That it was one of his greatest regrets,” Percy said. “And he’d never forgive himself for letting her die, and for what it did to her mom.” He glanced at Luke. “And to you.”

Luke’s chest stilled, his gaze going out of focus for a moment as a muscle worked in his jaw. He hid it well, but Percy knew. He’d spent enough time at home with his mom and step-dad, overheard enough one-sided arguments. 

“You’re braver than me,” he finally said, and he stood up. “I’m gonna turn in—it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said. “And Poseidon is too, for whatever it’s worth.” 

Luke didn’t look back at him as he started towards the path. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Percy.” 

-

“Are you sure you’re allowed to put lights up?” Luke asked. 

“Okay, Chiron,” you said cloyingly. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.” 

“I’m just worried about fire safety!” he exclaimed. “The Hephaestus kids nearly burn down their cabin at least five times a week.” 

“They’re working with actual fire. These are just Christmas lights.” You glanced down at him and he handed you the next strand. “Besides, this is the safest cabin for possible fire hazards. And they look pretty—that’s all that matters.” 

Luke chuckled as you hung them up, and he took a step back as you jumped off the chair and moved it to the other side of the room. You usually hung fairy lights, but with the holidays just around the corner, you wanted to make the place more festive. You asked Luke if he wanted to hang out with you while you decorated, and he obviously accepted. He took all the time he could get with you. 

“It’s so quiet in here,” Luke said as you got back up, taking the next strand with you. “I’m not used to an empty cabin.” 

“That’s what happens when you’re not supposed to be alive,” you mused. 

“You of all people can’t say that.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Do you ever get lonely in here?” 

“‘Course not,” you said. “I’ve always got you following me around.” 

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “Your company’s the best.” 

You grinned and looked back down at him, and Luke gave you the next string of lights. “Or maybe you’re just a little crazy. You’ve gotta be to spend three years on the road with me.” 

“Being around you is what’s kept me sane,” he corrected. “Especially in the Hermes cabin of chaos.” 

You got up on your toes and lifted a leg up so you could lean to reach the last hook. “Oh, come on. Your siblings are so fun to be around!” 

“Maybe in small doses,” he said wryly. “And be careful, gods—” 

You looked down at him, your grin only growing. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?” 

“Always,” he said, still watching you, “but the last thing you need is to break your leg.” 

“It’s a five foot fall, Luke,” you said, amused as you got back on even footing. You hopped back down and tilted your head. “I’ve survived much higher falls.” 

Luke frowned. “You don’t get to joke about that.” 

“I thought you were dead too,” you defended. “That means it’s fair game.” 

His chest twisted. He’d played that day over in his head thousands of times since he first lost you, wondering if he could have done something different or if he should have searched more—he stayed in those woods for a week and a half searching for you before another monster attack forced him out of the area. It was the whole reason he came up with a designated meeting area with Thalia and Annabeth if they got separated—he never wanted to lose someone again the way he lost you. 

He shook his head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, y’know? 

“Thank my dad,” you said. “I would have died if I didn’t fall into water. And he’s the reason I got to camp.” 

He’s also the reason you ended up on the streets in the first place, Luke wanted to say, but he held his tongue. You’d never shared his disdain for the gods, and he didn’t want to spoil your mood with his bitterness. 

So he doesn’t. He tilted his head and focused back on you. “Do I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're still alive?”

You smiled as you pushed the chair in front of your desk. “I could always stand to hear it more.” 

“Well, I’m thankful that you’re alive,” Luke said. He could have stared at your smile forever. “Mourning you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” 

“With any luck, you won’t have to do it again,” you joked. “I get it, though. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I thought I was hallucinating when you came over that hill.”  

The best and the worst day of his life—he found you again and lost Thalia in the same five-minute span. It wasn’t fair—Luke had told Thalia so many stories about you, and she was the one that brought him back from the edge your supposed death sent him to. On his worst days, Luke blamed himself for both. 

“Luke,” you said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What do you think of the lights? Tacky, or festive, or both?” 

He blinked, then took a step back with you so you could get the full view. He nodded. “Festive, definitely. Where’d you even get them?” 

“The Big House attic,” you said. “It’s not just full of Oracles and spoils of war.” 

He chuckled. “And how did you convince Chiron to give you those?” 

You shrugged. “You know I’m persuasive.” 

Luke shook his head. “I’m jealous. No one else really gets to decorate their place like this.” 

“No siblings means full creative control,” you mused. “And Big Three dad means a big cabin all for me.” 

“And yet you still get a twin bed,” he said with a smile. “We’re all equal, really.” 

“Like you wouldn’t prefer a full.” You fluffed your pillow then set it back down. “You spend as much time in here as I do.” 

“Can you blame me?” Luke shrugged. “There’s no privacy there. We can get away with basically anything in here.” 

“And because you love me,” you said cloyingly as you rustled your hair with his hand. 

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I really do.” 

Your smile widened and you gestured at your box of decorations. “Wanna prove it, loverboy? Help me get the rest of this up before sword lessons.”

“Y’know, I’m leading them today,” Luke said, picking up a stack of snowflake cutouts. He was pretty sure you just took all the rejects after you were in charge of the crafts for a week. “Technically, that means we’ve got as long as we want.” 

“Oh, Luke Castellan,” you said airily, pressing a hand to your chest. “You know the way to my heart.” 

-

“Oh,” Percy said. “Wow.” 

“Yeah. And this is only one of them.” Luke set a cardboard box full of things on an empty bed and sighed. “She made this place her own while she was here.”

Percy took out a stack of baseball cards on top—Red Sox, of course, the only bad thing about you—and shuffled through them. “Everything’s a little dusty.” 

“No one really wanted to come in here after she died,” Luke said. He had a tangled mess of Christmas lights in his hands. “All this stuff stayed up for a year or two before I took it all down.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re probably the only one apart from me to be in here since she left.” 

Percy set the cards down. “Do you mind if I put some of it back up?” 

Luke glanced at him. “Why do you always ask me? This is your place.” 

“It’s not just my place,” he said. “I… I want to make sure I’m honoring her well. And I don’t wanna make it harder for you. Especially if you took it down for a reason.” 

Luke was silent for a moment as he stared at the lights. He brushed off some dust with his thumb. 

Percy felt bad for pushing the matter every time he was around Luke, but there was a tug inside of him—an innate need to know more about her, a desperation to honor her life despite never meeting her. 

“I appreciate it,” he finally said. “But go for it, man. You don’t have to get my permission.” 

Percy nodded, and he took a poster out, wedged in the side of the box. A Blondie poster, based off the huge block letters above a blonde singer stylized in pop art. It had a torn corner, and bits of tape had been folded over some parts of the edges. 

Luke chuckled. “She was a huge Blondie fan. She brought her Walkman when she ran away—I lost count of how many times we listened to Parallel Lines. Definitely put that one back up.” 

Percy nodded and set it on his bed. He looked at the lights in Luke’s hand. “Why’d she have those?” 

“She loved to light the cabin up,” he explained. “Said it made it feel more homey, and she liked to change it with the seasons. And when she enlisted the Aphrodite kids, it was like a— a HomeGoods warzone.” Luke shook his head with the most genuine smile he’d seen all day. “She really was something special.”  

Again, Percy’s heart clenched. It wasn’t fair he only got to learn about you through stories, only through the past tense. If he could get his mom back, why the hell couldn’t he get you back? Why couldn’t his dad have stepped in? 

What good was regret when you have all the power in the world to stop it? What good was being a god if you couldn’t save your family when it mattered most? 

“Y’know, I decorated this place a million times with her,” he said, and Percy was thankful for the interruption with his thoughts. “She wanted it to be a welcoming cabin, open to the whole camp if they ever got homesick.” 

“So the opposite of what it used to be,” Percy said wryly. 

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “You two are the first Poseidon kids in a long time because of the oath—it was just here for respect. She didn’t just make it into her home, she made it into a home for anyone that needed some extra warmth.” 

Percy looked around, trying to imagine you and a younger, unscarred Luke putting all this stuff on the walls, him helping you hang Christmas lights. You sitting on a bed, maybe what he’d chosen as his bed, talking a younger camper through their fears or their homesickness. You forcing the innate coldness of Cabin Three out and replacing it with warmth of your own. 

“Did you bring any pictures?” he asked. 

Luke nodded again and took a few out of his pockets, offering them to Percy. He took the one sticking out the most and smiled a bit. 

“Very Poseidon of her,” he commented. 

“She loved the beach,” Luke said, smiling wistfully. “No matter what state we were in, she would always try to find one. We could’ve walked twenty miles that day, and the moment she stepped into the water she would be good as new. I should’ve known who her dad was a lot sooner.”

Percy’s hand lingered on the picture he’d just put up. You stood on a sandy shore with your arms spread and head tilted back, and you looked wholly in your element. 

He wondered what you would think of Montauk. 

“This was one of those times?” he asked. 

Luke nodded. “North Carolina. A year and a half in, I think. We missed the East Coast after being in the Midwest for so long, and naturally, she found a beach immediately.” His eyes softened. “She was always so happy around the water, even after she knew what it meant.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Finding out the thing you’ve always loved is the domain of the father who abandoned you is a little rough.” 

Luke always spoke with more nerve towards the gods than any other camper he knew. Funny, considering he was one of the first ones to tell him that names had power.

And he’d been acting weird since Percy got back from the quest. He thought maybe he was jealous, but Luke didn’t really seem like the jealous type—especially when he was already so cool. 

Then again, they did just come back from the brink of a possible world war. Percy should’ve been surprised more people weren’t acting weird. 

His attention drifted to the clock on the wall in the midst of his thoughts—Chiron’s last ditch effort in a camp full of time-blind kids—and his eyes widened. 

Percy muttered under his breath—Annabeth had taught him some Ancient Greek curse words on the road, and he was sure his mom would love them—and looked up at Luke. “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta go. Time really got away from me.” 

“I get it,” he nodded. “Have you gotten any better?” 

He glanced away bashfully. “Not really. But Beckendorf has the patience of a saint. Maybe someday I’ll make an actually functional sword.” 

Luke chuckled, though it was wistful. “Good luck. You mind if I stay here for a bit? I can put up some of her things.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. Stay as long as you want.” 

Percy stopped once he got out of the door. Luke’s gaze was glued to a picture of you on the wall, his expression softer than he’d ever seen before at odds with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Again, Percy felt that all-encompassing dread, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

He left before it could consume him, but the haunted look in Luke’s eyes didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day. 

-

You took in a deep breath of salty air. The sea breeze blew over you as waves gently rolled into shore, and you smiled. You never felt more like yourself than when you were at the beach, and when you and Luke were constantly on the run fighting for your lives, sometimes you desperately needed to feel like yourself. 

You exhaled long and slow. It had been a particularly rough week—Luke did his best patching up your shoulder, but it would definitely scar—and this was just what you needed to wind down before you started moving again. 

You and your mom went to Cape Cod a lot when you were growing up, and though this wasn’t anywhere close to the same, it made for an alright stand-in.

The click of a polaroid camera interrupted your peace, and you opened your eyes and turned your head to see the culprit. 

“And you made fun of me for constantly taking pictures,” you said wryly. 

Luke smiled. “I made fun of you for taking up valuable space in your bag to bring your camera with you. I can’t not take pictures of you—especially when you’re so photogenic.” 

“Flatterer.” 

“Not if it’s true,” he remarked. He held out the camera to you. “Wanna get any pictures of the sea? You’ve got a better eye than me.” 

“Well, the sea’s a better subject than me,” you said. “Hold onto it.” 

He chuckled and took it back, drying out the newly printed picture. “How’re you feeling, by the way? I know it’s been a hard few days.”  

“Never better,” you said. “I needed a break from the road.”

“I get why you wanted to stop here,” he said. “It’s… calming.”

“Isn’t it?” You spread your arms out, breathing in deep once more. “I always feel better out here. More free.”

Another camera click, and your smile grew. “How do you feel?” 

“Better too, surprisingly. But that might just be because we’re walking instead of running.” You heard his footsteps and he came up next to you. You took the picture he offered and chuckled. You had your head back and your arms spread, soaking up every bit of sun and sea air you could. 

“I look like a stock photo.” 

“Does that mean I can get a job as a photographer?” he asked. “We could use some extra cash.” 

“Half of the pictures are either random parts of nature or me,” you said. “Who’d buy those?” 

“Me,” Luke said. “But I don’t think that would help with our money problems.” 

“All this flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said. 

“It got me here,” he said. “I think it’s worked out pretty well.” 

You smiled as you looped arms with Luke, and after you gestured with your head, you started walking down the sand together. Whereas you always felt like you were blurting out the first thing that came to mind when you were around him, Luke always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. “Do you like it here?” 

Luke nodded. “It’s nice. I get why you like the water so much.” 

“At least one beach a week going forward now that we’re on the coast again, then,” you said. “Deal?” 

“Deal,” he agreed. 

“Good,” you said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Virginia Beach. Last time, those giant ant things ruined it for us.” 

“Gods,” Luke grumbled, and you felt him shiver. “Don’t remind me of those things. I’ll never forget what their poison smelled like—and I’ll never forgive them for ruining my favorite shirt.” 

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll get you a Red Sox one someday, and it’ll become your new favorite shirt.” 

Luke shook his head. “Your Boston baseball propaganda isn’t gonna work. I was raised as a Yankee.” 

“And I’m here to undo that awful brainwashing,” you said sagely. “Next time we go through Massachusetts, I’ll have to get you one. And we can stop by Cape Cod—I think being close to the water is good for my health.” 

“And I like seeing you happy,” he mused. “So I guess it works out for both of us.” 

You laughed. “We’ll have to stop at a music store before the day ends, too. I’ve nearly worn out my Cyndi Lauper tape, and I need to get some new ones. You should pick out an album you like too.h” 

“‘Course,” he said. “I think we’ve got some extra cash saved up. And if we have to—” 

“We shouldn’t steal anything yet,” you interrupted. “I don’t wanna get the cops on our backs so soon.” 

“You say that like I would get caught,” Luke remarked. “It’s literally in my genes. I’m making my father proud, and I’m helping you. I see no reason not to do it.” 

“Cool it,” you said. “We’re not becoming Bonnie and Clyde at the ripe old age of eleven.” 

“Fine.” You couldn’t see it, but you could sense his smile. “I’ll hold off. For now.” 

That got another laugh out of you as you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt like you’d been on the run for a week straight—this was the best break you could have asked for. Maybe the sea was good for your health, you thought. Or maybe it was just Luke. 

Either worked for you. 

-

Percy could hardly breathe as he stared down at the scorpion, slowly inching its way up his pants leg. It wasn’t every day one of your friends betrayed and tried to kill you in the woods, but this seemed like the year he started checking things off his bucket list. 

“So this was your plan all along,” he said, attention split between the pit scorpion and the traitor. “Gain my trust, send me to Tartarus, start a war for Kronos.” 

The air got colder, and Luke tilted his head. “You should be careful with names.”

“And you should do the job yourself,” he challenged. “You want to kill me? Fight me like a man.” 

“I’m not Ares,” he said tartly. “You can’t bait me.” 

“So you’re a coward too?” Red hot anger rose within him, and the words left him before he could really think about them. “Did you also lie about my sister? Got a hobby of killing Poseidon kids?”

“Zeus got her killed, Percy!” Luke yelled. There was something wild in his eyes as he gestured with his sword. “I loved her more than anything—I held her as she died, and your dad let it happen. If it weren’t for the gods, both her and Thalia would be alive!” 

Maybe it was a good thing Percy didn’t know that until now. If he knew the king of gods was responsible for his sister’s death, he would’ve gotten himself burnt to a crisp on Olympus. 

“This isn’t what my sister would have wanted,” he said. “She—”

“Don’t you dare talk about her!” His voice continued to rise. “You don’t know her— you don’t know what she would have wanted!” 

“She couldn’t have wanted this!” he exclaimed. Percy’s breath caught momentarily as the scorpion inched closer and he forced his muscles to remain as still as possible as his gaze flicked back over to Luke. “This isn’t the way to fix things, Luke. I promise.” 

He shook his head, and he could have been a son of Ares the way fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. “She died because of Zeus, Percy. She was so close to sixteen, and that meant she was a threat to his power. He sent monsters to kill her, and your dad could have saved her, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it. And y’know,” Luke huffed a laugh, cold and mirthless, “the same thing’s gonna happen to you.” 

His blood had turned to ice. “He knows the pain of losing a daughter. Why would he—” 

“Because they don’t care, Percy!” he yelled, his sword cutting through the air again. “All they care about is keeping their power and their position. Your dad would rather send you on a death quest than stop stroking his ego for one measly second. Hades sent monsters to kill Thalia, and Zeus sent monsters to kill your sister—they can’t punish each other, so they punish us, and the cycle will never stop until we make it stop.”

“And you think that this is the way to do it?” he asked desperately. “By betraying camp and all your friends? We’re in the same position as you are!” 

“And anyone that’s smart will join our cause,” Luke said. “Do you really think I’m the only one that’s upset with the gods? I’ve been here for five years—I’ve seen kids leave for the school year and never come back. I’ve seen kids die without ever being claimed. My own dad turned me away at every opportunity. Our numbers are bigger than you know, Percy.” 

“You say I don’t know my sister,” Percy said, “but I know her enough to know she wouldn’t want this. Not in her name. Not against our father.” 

“You don’t know her at all,” Luke said, voice trembling. “If she knew that Zeus killed her for nothing but paranoia over a bullshit prophecy, she would be fighting against the gods right beside me.” 

“I lost her once,” he continued, shaky but full of anger, “and then I got her back, just to lose her all over again. The gods will never know that kind of pain—if they did, they wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.” 

The scorpion was at his knee now. Percy was running out of time, and his mind was working in overdrive on how to get more, but he found himself rendered speechless. What could he say to a boy who’d lost everything? 

Luke was the lightning thief, he’d fully intended to kill Percy with those shoes, he meant to turn the gods against each other and raise Kronos, and now he was really trying to kill him.  

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

Percy thought he’d lost his mother, but now she was back. He’d met his father in person. He had a sister he’d never meet, that he would never be able to fully grieve. Luke loved her and grew up with her and grieved her twice.

Percy didn’t care—anyone who his sister loved couldn’t be a bad person. Not fully.  

“Please, Luke,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how to solve it, but this isn’t the way. You think the gods are using you? Kronos is doing the exact same thing.” 

“You’re twelve, Percy, and you’re already the chosen one,” Luke said. “Hades and Ares would have both killed you if they got their way, and it was your job to stop a war between the gods because they couldn’t see beyond their egos. How is that fair to you?”  

“There was no other choice,” Percy insisted. “If either of them backed down, they would look weak. We’re the only ones that can do quests like this.” 

“Exactly,” he said. “They start petty fights that they can’t finish and it gets taken out on us. We have to be their heroes, and we have to praise them as we die.”

Percy remembered their bus exploding. Medusa, an innocent woman favored by Poseidon and punished by Athena for it. The endless souls in the Asphodel Fields, and even more waiting in line for their chance to be judged. Luke’s quest given to him by his father permanently scarring him, Thalia Grace sacrificing herself for her friends, his sister never getting the chance to see sixteen—Percy himself being used as a pawn to enact Kronos’s plan. 

“You don’t have to be a hero,” Luke continued, almost begging at this point. “You can join our cause—you can prove you’re so much more than the prophecies want you to be. Say the word and I’ll call it off.”

Percy wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of godly respect. He tricked Hades, insulted Zeus, and actually fought Ares. But his dad loved him—or loved his mom, at least. Annabeth’s determination and Grover’s steadfastness and all the friends he’d made at camp—all innocent children like himself. He couldn’t turn his back on that. 

Percy clenched his jaw. “I will never serve Kronos.”

Pain flashed in Luke’s dark eyes, but he shut it down just as soon. “So be it.”

He slashed his sword through the air and a ripple of darkness appeared, the void bleeding into the forest. 

“I really am sorry it came to this, Percy,” Luke said quietly. “But it’ll be quick. And that’s a bigger mercy than Zeus gave your sister.”

Luke disappeared into the darkness and it vanished soon after. Percy didn’t have time to think about his words—the scorpion had reached his thigh. Sixty seconds, Luke had said, then it was over. 

Percy had about five seconds to think of a plan before it lunged at him. He batted it away with one hand and uncapped his sword with the other, cutting the scorpion in half before it could reach the ground. 

He thought he did it. Then he looked at his hand, a red welt already sweltering on his palm, oozing sticky yellow liquid. 

Percy stumbled to the creek and submerged his hand, but nothing happened. He muttered a delusional prayer to his dad, then to his mother, then to you as he stumbled his way towards camp. Nymphs emerged from their trees, and he croaked a plea for help. 

As Percy collapsed, barely caught by nymphs on either side, he swore that he saw you. Did that mean he was dying? You had kind eyes like his mother, an aura of warmth unlike the feverish heat in his body, and it made the idea of it a lot less scary. 

He wondered if he’d meet you in Elysium. 

Percy reached a leaden arm out to you, mumbling your name despite his cottonmouth, and then his vision went black. 

[darlingchronicles]

JJ AND THE GOLDEN GIRL HEADCANONS II

pairing: jj x fem!goodgirl!reader

word count:

first part here & based on this and this post that i made. enjoy !!!

What is their favorite photo of with other?

✔︎ jj's favorite photo of him and his golden girl is when they were asleep on the hammock and sarah snapped a shot. she was laid on his chest and her head was buried into the side of his neck with her arms around him and jj head was resting against hers and his arms fully engulfed her waist. a small blanket was laid over them and the sun set in the background. as mentioned in my previous headcanons, he keeps it in his wallet at all times.

ఌ golden girl has so many photos that she loves of jj and her, but one takes the cake. it's one where she and jj had just gotten out of the ocean and dressed in their regular clothes, but their hair is still wet, and they were sitting next to a fire the pogues made on the far side of the beach. her head was on his shoulder, but tilted up so she was looking at him and he was looking down into her eyes. it was night, so the light from the fire made them seem like they were glowing. sarah also took the photo and golden girl framed it and put it on the wall near her bed.

What special thing do they carry with them at all times?

✔︎ well of course jj keeps the photo in his wallet, but he also has a couple of bracelets from her. however, one of his prized possessions is the gum hearts. as stated in the previous headcanon, golden girl is very crafty with her gifts and gave jj a heart made out of gum wrapper. she actually wrote in it. a little note that only said, "hey there criminal". it was so lame that he laughed when he opened it one day and saw it. it's a little of an inside joke because jj's name is jesse-james maybank, after the criminal. it was so stupid, but it makes him laugh.

ఌ for golden girl, she usually has a few things on her, but she adores her bracelet that jj made. he made it by hand (he never told her this, but she could tell by the messy threading and specific mini charms) and personalized it. he gave it to her about a year after they began dating (only a few days before he told her he loved her). he just handed it to her randomly when she was staying over at the chateau. he was so nervous but she loved. she always wears it and only takes it off if she's going into deep water because she doesn't want to risk losing it. one of the charms is a surf board, another is of half a sun and one of her favorites is of flounder from the little mermaid (as mentioned before in part 1, she's scared of sharks). she loves that thing and you can always see her wearing it no matter what.

How does the cut and figure eight react to them?

✔︎ first off, the cut is probably the most surprised at the news of them. it only appears maybe like five or six months into the relationship. they kept it hush hush for a while and eventually didn't care who saw them. multiple pogues saw them going for ice cream together. heyward saw them sailing on "the pogue" a few times, alone. others saw them at the kegger, sitting close to one another and jj's arm was around her. the cherry on top was when they came out of the ocean from surfing and he gave her a kiss (ON THE MOUTH???) and the news spread like wildfire. everyone had questions about how it began and shit like that. but it was the excited type of questions. separately, they ask the couple if they're together. jj's only response is "yeah, for a time now" in a lighthearted tone and golden girl's response is "yes, we are!" in a very cheerful tone. honestly the cut was so surprised, but they're honestly for it. with their responses, it seemed like the two were very much falling in love and by the way jj looked at her, the man was a goner and based on her smiles, she was half-way in love already. (everyone knew they were endgame at this point and any other secret suitors resigned) there were some skeptics and some who didn't believe they'd last long, but when they heard how long they've already been together, it crushed all of it. they didn't expect it, but they're kind of the cut's IT couple now. famous, i'm telling you.

ఌ the more judgmental pack is the kooks, aka figure eight. golden girl is known there because she works at the club restaurant as the hostess and she has a pretty good rep there too. heck she has a great rep everywhere. she is the golden girl after all. smiley and shiny. a bright future. the sun personified. (she'd argue but go on) so when they find out that she is dating jj maybank, the bus boy and absolute troublemaker of the cut, they're all fla-ber-gas-ted. like they all blink in confusion. and the only way the kooks found out was about a month after the cut found out and jj and golden girl went to a kegger together and ended kissing near the bonfire. kooks saw, told their friends, who told their friends, who told their parents and BAM! wildfire. some kids were actually really confused and some even tried to "warn" her about getting with a kid "like maybank". she had half a mind to flip them off but all she said was "i think i'm smart enough to make my own choices. thank you" and continued on with her day. she saw the judgment whenever they passed by each other at work and she knew it'd be a while before things went back to how they were at the restaurant. jj had the sharp end of the sword as he physically saw and heard the judgment from the kooks as if they knew her more than him. some of it kind of got to him, but he eventually over heard golden girl telling off some kook boys to leave her and jj the hell alone before she taught them how to shut their mouths. politely. but yeah that's what she said. eventually everything calm down, but figure eight isn't really their biggest fans.

How did their friends react to them?

✔︎ the pogues were really surprised that jj was capable of capturing her heart, but not surprised that they got together. she'd been part of the pogues for a while before they got together. even then, they saw the goo goo eyes and smiles and secret touches here and there and had bets placed. sarah won nearly every side bet, but pope won the last one about who kissed who first. they're for it honestly. they know that she makes jj really happy and he's more devoted to her than any other girl he's ever taken a look at and they know that golden girl would never hurt jj and that she's been in love with him for a while and they know they are made for each other. so very supportive.

ఌ golden girl is actually friends with a few kooks and they were very...ehhhh on the matter. they nearly choked when they heard and ask if the rumors were true. she said yes and they just shared a look. they warned her (like every damn kook on the island she was associated with one way or another) about how jj was and how they heard he was and just told her to rethink it or be careful. they continued on with that train for a while before she told them shut up or else she'd stop hanging out with them. (she's not friends with most of them anymore). however her pogue friends were very happy for her and admire them anytime they're around. again, bets were made and paid.

When did they know they were in it for the long run?

✔︎ the idea actually popped up in jj's head a few times, but he always pushed it aside or ignored it. i mean...being for someone for the long run? like marriage? and kids and a house. i mean, he's too young to even think about that right? i mean it's not possible to know right away? is it? he'd never thought about getting married beforehand. marriage was a wreck for anyone who got involved and it was like tying a noose around your finger, right? that's what he thought. and then she'd smile at him like he was her world and he made it spin on its axis. then she'd give him a little gift he never asked for and she wouldn't even ask for a thank you. then she'd give him a lecture about being reckless, but eyes just tell him that she's terrified something would happen to him. the one time he actually let the thought in was around their first year anniversary when they went surfing and ended up on the beach late at night with no one around. she was pressed up against his chest, sleeping with a few blankets over them and a smile fire burning to keep them warm. he glances down at her and there's something that glows within him that just tells him. for the first time, he thinks about marriage and being with her when he's old and gray and...it doesn't scare him for the first time. that thought alone leads to the first "i love you" only weeks later.

ఌ she's thought about it before. i mean, golden girl has watched rom-coms before, so she has thought about marriage. she'd hope to break the whole generation curse one day and be with someone she loves rather than for money or an accidental pregnancy. it's a wish in her. she does have the desire to marry one day, but she wants it to be for the right reasons. she's more into long-term relationships rather than hook ups or "situationships" because of the fear she'll be used like the women in her family before. so when jj came around and she actually let him in, she knows there's something special there. she thought about it here and there, but she always told herself that when she knows, she'll know. and that moment came around when she and jj were hanging out in her room about nine months in. her parents were out and jj snuck in and stayed for the night. they had played a game of uno, which she beat him at 3 times in a row, and received the reward of him telling her she was the best and amazing at everything (all in a playful manner, she demanded it) and when he won, he claps his hands in a taunting manner and went straight for her. she fell back and he caught her in his arms and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips and she swore she felt her heart skip two beats. when he pulled away, simply to press his lips to her cheek and request a game of cards to beat her at (still riding on the win) when she realize that she could do that forever. play games with cards and monopoly boards and win rewards of kisses and praise for the rest of her life. and the way jj smiled at her when she said she'd kick his ass at anything else, she knew it had to be him. (she knew he felt the same way before he knew).

What is their go-to and favorite date plans?

✔︎ jj is a simple guy. he doesn't need much. if he really wanted to have some alone time and take her out, he'd take her out for a drive to the beach, walk around, talking about everything and nothing before going to get an ice cream and ending the night watching the sunset. his favorite date plans is going surfing or staying on the pogue for the entire day and just be in each other's company.

ఌ golden girl understands that she and jj are busy people. busy bees. if they both had some time in-between their breaks or even after work for some time (or any time for that matter) her go-to suggestion is to sit outside or inside (probably the beach) and play a game of cards with two soda cans sitting next to them. it's quick and easy and they always have a good time. because of this, she and jj always have a stack of cards with them. her favorite date, however, is whenever the carnival or a festival comes near the mainland and they go together and just have fun. close second and most common one is introducing jj to all her favorite movies, musicals and series. (she got him hooked on money heist and gilmore girls, but he'll only watch it with her).

What is the favorite physical and non-physical trait of theirs they love?

✔︎ for jj, his favorite physical trait of hers is her eyes. she's so expressive in her eyes and if he needed to know anything, he'd just have to look into her eyes. she can say one thing, but the eyes tell another. he now believes in the whole "eyes are the windows to the soul" saying. (to be not so wholesome because it's jj duh, he really likes her chest. what can i say? he just likes the girls). his favorite non-physical trait is her ability to try and see the good in everything and everyone: aka her compassion. he knows it's hard for her to do that sometimes and he can see how she wants to be negative, but she tries her hardest to bring joy to others and to herself. she wants everyone to be happy because that's what she wants for herself (and sometimes she doesn't get it). jj doesn't really accept the fact that he's a cause of her happiness and joy, but he feels happy knowing he is.

ఌ for the golden girl, her favorite physical trait of jj is his hair. especially his wet hair when he just exited the sea and he shake it a bit out get the water out. *chef kiss* she also likes to play with it and toy around with it when she's watching tv or when jj is a little stressed, she likes to pass her hand over his hair. it works actually. (to not be so wholesome, his arms and back just make her drool and make her eyes roll back into her head, but you didn't hear it from me) her favorite non-physical trait is his loyalty. i've touched upon this in my last headcanon i think??? but he is loyal to the end. like it's actually this man's fatal flaw. she could be wrong or right, but jj is by her side. honestly her hype man. she's really happy to know he'd go search the entire world just for her.

What specific physical touch do they secretly like?

✔︎ jj is a sucker for back scratches. it's just a thing he found out he liked. he and golden girl were laying in jj's bed at the chateau, mumbling as the clock began to tick closer and closer to two in the morning. he was laying on top of her, head nuzzles into her neck. jj sleeps on his stomach, so golden girl had to learn how to not get crushed by him as she realized it was non-negotiable for him. she was mumbling something about school and jj was just responding with hums as sleep began to overtake him and she began to drag her nails up and down his bare back softly. jj is actually so embarrassed by how obsessed he became with it. if she stops, he'll whine until she gives in. if she begins, she cannot stop until she falls asleep or jj falls asleep or they have to get up. jj could go hours with her just scratching his back. he doesn't care how hard or soft she does it, just likes it (he does have a little fantasy about it, but it's only a fantasy for now lol)

ఌ golden girl really likes it when jj just holds her, whether in her room, his room at the chateau, or the hammock, she likes to curl up in jj's arms and have him hold her. sometimes she needs it because of all the stress on her. she specifically likes it when he talks to her, regardless if she'll respond. it's in his softest voice (he would never admit it to anyone and if she ever mentioned it someone (she hasn't), he'd deny it because why would she try and out him like that????) and he'll just mumble sweet nothings in her ears and sometimes she'll fall asleep because of it. she likes it a lot. (and just to out her a little, she's actually kind of interested in jj's soft voice in other types of scenarios if you catch my drift) but yeah she loves jj holding her and paying attention to her and only her in those moments?

How needy are they?

✔︎ if this man ever says he's not needy, he's lyingggggg. jj is an attention seeker at heart and he wants her attention at nearly all times. he just loves the attention and will do the most stupid stuff to gain it. once he waved her over just to show her he could do a handstand. she eventually caught the pattern of this, but she still goes over to him whenever he calls her. she likes that she's wanted by him. she thought he'd get use to it, but nope. this man is still as obsessed with her attention as always. as for physically, this man got a taste of physical touch after being touch starved (romantically at least) and he's never gone back. a hand on her back, hand in hand, hugging her, arm around her shoulder, etc, etc. he's always touching her if he can.

ఌ she admits it. she likes his attention. A LOT. she wouldn't say she's needy, but she really likes it when he's paying attention to her and only her. golden girl captures his attention in different ways. she'll fiddle with his hands or his hair or just call him over so he can sit next to her. she's heading towards jj-level obsessed at some points. physically however? she's right there with jj. hand on his knee, rubbing his back with her hand as he talks, fiddling with whatever jewelry he has on, stroking his jaw with her thumb, hugging him, etc. neither of them really care what everyone else thinks, but they never go beyond this to make sure others are comfortable in some aspects. since they're not there yet, this is as far as it goes for now (john b and sarah on the other hand are...well...they're not very quiet....lol)

Favorite nicknames?

✔︎ little lady, princess, flounder, sunflower, goody-two shoes, wormy, grumpelstiltskin

ఌ blondie, j, sunshine, pretty boy, criminal, giraffe, surfer boy, sleeping beauty

thedarlinglore: i love jj and golden girl so much. like it's actually an obsession. and there is more come!!! a fic is coming soon, but hey, we have more headcanons. i am thinking about blackcat!reader, but we'll see. requests are also open i hope you enjoyed and see you in the next one. love you, my darlings <3

➣ my last "jj" work | "oh schroeder" ➣ more concepts | jj maybank

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 1566

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

Please Read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 2

The journey to the bunker was pretty uneventful, with Sam and Charlie chatting amongst themselves in the front of the car whilst both myself and Dean sat miserably next to each other in the back like a couple of criminals who’d been arrested. The chains on my handcuffs jangled as I rubbed my sore knuckles; the skin raw, bruised and red from either my own blood or - most likely - Deans. As I did, I could feel a red hot glare burning into the side of my face from the older Winchester, as though he was in disbelief that I even had the audacity to feel any pain or discomfort right now as dark red scabs formed on his nose and cheek. We pulled up next to the bunker, and I didn’t get much chance to look at the surrounding scenery as the moment we were parked, the golden retriever duo up front hopped out, slammed their doors shut and threw ours open, Sam gently yet firmly grasping my elbow and pulling me to my feet whilst Charlie did the same for Dean. We were marched into the building and we soon arrived in what I assumed to be the kitchen. Sam pushed gently on my shoulder, urging me to take a seat at the table to which I obliged with Dean following suit and taking a seat opposite me. We stared each other down from across the table for a few moments, the atmosphere growing thicker by the second as his brilliant green eyes pierced mine.

“Enough the pair of you!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Look, I’ve got some things to say before we release you both back into the wild. It won’t take long,” she sighed and rubbed her temples. “I wanted to introduce you guys to (Y/n) because I thought you would get along! With your shared interest in hunting, bootcut jeans, rock music and most importantly - pie.”

Dean and I shot each other a quick glance before looking away again. Charlie continued.

“You’ve had one disagreement, and even though I was impressed by the performance it definitely didn’t warrant the carnage. You’re both adults, so act like it and stop bickering like children. You’re going to be living and working together now so you’re both just going to have to suck it up and move on.”

Sam stepped forward; “I agree with Charlie. (Y/n) you have no idea how much of a help you being here is going to be. We’ve been going around in circles for months and we really need a fresh pair of eyes. Plus you get free food and board, if that helps,” he grinned slightly trying to lighten the mood. I humoured him and softened my eyes, raising my eyebrows in acknowledgment to the pros of staying here.

“Right,” he clapped his hands together, “we’re going to remove the tape and you’re both going to be civilised. You promise?”

I gave Dean one final long, hard stare before nodding.

”Good,” Sams soft cool fingers grazed my cheek as he pulled up the corner of the tape, gently peeling it back until it was removed and I could finally take a deep breath. Meanwhile, Charlie approached Dean and in one swift movement ripped the tape from his mouth in under a second.

“FUCK!” He cried out as he tenderly touched his now extra sore swollen lips. I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Right, I’m going to go and get (Y/n)s belongings from the motel room she’s staying in and check her out then I’ll be right back with all her stuff. I’ll see you guys later!” And before I could even protest for her to take me with her, she’d turned on her heel and hightailed it out of the bunker, leaving Sam to undo our cuffs and set us free.

“That bitch,” I sighed, huffing a strand of hair out of my face. Sam knelt before me, that kind look in his eye ever twinkling.

“(Y/n) I promise you that you're safe here. It’s warded to the teeth and full of everything we need to survive. We’ve got you,” he patted my knee before taking my hands in his, using a small key to finally undo the cuffs right before they clattered to the floor. I leant down to pick them up, and by the time I’d sat back up to place them on the kitchen table, he was already beside Dean doing the same for him. His own cuffs removed and rubbing his wrists, he stood, looking from me to Sam a few times before speaking.

“Well I’ve already suffered enough today so I’m going to spend time coming up with a better excuse as to why I look like this,” he gestured to his beaten face and turned to leave, mumbling a quick ‘see ya later’ to Sam before leaving the kitchen. Sam stood awkwardly for a second, before declaring that he was going to get some lunch for everyone and also scurried away, leaving me completely alone in alien territory. I was still sat at the table as I began to look around.

This place was a dump.

How did these grown ass men live in conditions like this? The dirty dishes were piled so high that it was a surprise they hadn’t toppled over yet. Empty beer bottles cluttered the table and countertops, the bin was overflowing with bulging bin bags dumped right next to it without being taken outside and the smell was starting to make me feel a little nauseous. How does Sam expect us all to eat and live together in conditions like this? It was like living with a couple of wild animals. After a few silent moments to myself I released a breath I’d been holding whilst I pondered. I ran my hands through my hair and laughed at myself in disbelief. I’m gonna have to clean the fucking kitchen. Without giving it a second thought and running the risk that I’d change my mind, I scooped my hair into a high ponytail using the bobble on my wrist and pushed up my sleeves, finding a pair of rubber gloves under the sink. Let’s clean this bitch.

*

In the space of about an hour and a half (a gruelling hour and a half), I’d washed and dried the dishes, putting them away in their respective places, taken out all the trash and lined the bin with a fresh bag, scrubbed and disinfected every surface and had even mopped the floors. The smell of rotting trash was dissipating and the urge to claw off my own skin had gone. I’d propped the mop against the wall and stepped back to admire my hard labour when I heard a door open and close, the entering footsteps heading my way. Sam emerged into the kitchen, a stunned look on his face as he walked to the table slowly, placing about 6 bags of ‘groceries’ on its surface. His mouth opened and closed a few times like he was searching for the right things to say.

“You’re welcome,” I cut in, hoping to help him find his words.

“Yeah, thank you! I’m sorry, I didn't know what to say - you really didn’t have to do this. It’s embarrassing that you were even put in a situation where you felt you had to,” he grimaced a little, only now realising what a horror show it was that they were living in. “But seriously thank you, I really appreciate it,” he smiled and I couldn't help but smile back. Sam was sweet and easy to like - unlike his Neanderthal brother. I felt like I could trust him.

I peeled my gloves off, threw them in the bin and approached the kitchen table where Sam was pulling out a case of beer.

“Here, you deserve one of these,” he said, handing me one. The bottle was nice and cool on my hot fingertips, my warm skin instantly relishing the coldness.

“Thank you,” I smiled before popping the cap and taking a long, well deserved drink. I savoured the moment, genuinely appreciating Sam’s gesture. Although all nice moments comes to an end, and soon Dean was striding into the room bold as brass, seating himself at the table and helping himself to a beer without so much as a hello. It wasn’t until he’d drained half the bottle in one gulp that he realised the kitchen was clean. He grinned and looked at his brother.

“Hey, nice job Sammy! It looks great in here, I owe you one,” he raised his bottle as if making a small toast whilst Sam’s eyes flicked to mine.

“Uh, Dean… this wasn’t me. You need to thank (Y/n) for that,” Deans grin faulted slightly as he looked between the two of us before it returned. I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows in suspicion. His forest green eyes pierced into mine as he almost purred his next sentence.

“Well, Sammy, it looks like we’ve bagged ourselves a maid. Does she cook too?”

I slammed my bottle on the table, much like I did earlier. Only Sam flinched.

“I’m not your fucking maid,” I snarled, resenting that shit-eating grin on the older Winchesters lips. He chuckled, the sound coming deep from within his chest as he rose to his feet.

“Sure thing sweetheart.”

——————————————————————

Taglist: @creative-writing92 @suckitands33

——————————————————————

Up Next:

Chapter 3

[06sunnybunny06]

Love for three. [18+] (Alhaytham, Kaveh)

-....

-..This........is not allowed...Why?

The darkness swallowed up the mind. The body does not obey at all. Something is preventing you from waking up. Behind the curtain of darkness, voices can be heard somewhere outside. It used to seem like they were coming from far away, but now the sounds are getting louder.

- How did it even occur to you that this would be a good idea?! What you did is not just wrong, it's ILLEGAL!

The loud statements were followed by a heavy sigh. A lower voice spoke quieter than his opponent.

- We have discussed this many times. There was a dilemma between us, and you didn't want to back down in any way. I don't plan on losing to you either. There are only two ways to solve the problem, to share or not to share at all...

-But what's going to happen to her? Have you thought about it? How do you plan to explain this whole situation?

- Anyone can adapt. It will take time and it will pay off.

- And if the Mantra starts an investigation? If Sayno joins in?

- Just keep quiet and no one will find out. Your whining might give us away.

- It's not right. I won't be able to accept it.

- Do you think you can get away with it? Don't forget, you're my accomplice. Even if by a miracle I'm the only one going to jail. Not only will you be left without a roof over your head, but your reputation will come to an end. No job, no money, and a lot of unpaid debts. Consider yourself already sitting in the grave. All that remains is to bury yourself or someone else will do it.........If you mess it up now.

- But...

There was silence. My eyes began to adjust to the darkness. You were lying in a small room on a small double bed. It seemed that the body had fallen from a great height and was now recovering from the shock. The slightest movements can be done, but with great difficulty. My throat ached for water.

After a couple of minutes, it became impossible to lie staring at the ceiling. You wanted to get up. Small attempts to stand up led to a loss of balance. You fell down. Hurried footsteps were heard outside. The door opened, letting in a bright light. I had to close my eyes to avoid going blind. A young man with golden hair picked you up. The concern in his eyes reminded you of someone very familiar..

- Oh Archons, are you okay?

-I... want to.. drink..

- Sunshine, give it a little bit.

He turned to the second man, who was leaning against the door frame.

- Get her some water.

Turquoise eyes studied your haggard face. The tall silhouette walked away from the threshold and returned with a glass in his hand. When he got closer, you could see his face too. Fragments of memories flashed before my eyes. You've known these people for a long time, but their names are on the tip of your tongue.

The blond man held the glass to your lips. Cold liquid is poured into the mouth. After a nauseating awakening, the water relieved the semi-conscious state.

- What did you drug her with?

There was silence in the air. The gray-haired man sat next to him, thinking about the answer.

Just a little sleeping pill. She'll come to her senses soon. Put her on the bed for now. You can't get much out of her right now.

The blond man grimaced in disgust, but obediently picked you up. Ruby eyes restlessly studied your face.

- I'll stay here. Next to her.

And another heavy sigh. - "I told you it wouldn't do much good, but you're still trying to help her somehow. Trust me, there are no dangers in this house. It's better to just lock the door."

-Do you think it's better to leave her like a criminal in a locked room? And how do you imagine that?

- I know better what and how...

They started arguing again, but you hardly realized it when you fell asleep. The next morning, consciousness cleared up. The light outside the window hit my eyes. It must be noon by now. Looking closer, you realized that the room is completely different from the one in which you fell asleep last night. Panic began to form in my heart. So it wasn't a dream. These two people were quite real. What happened to you? Why did you end up in someone else's house?

Some movement nearby made you turn around sharply. That golden-haired guy who looked after you so diligently yesterday turned out to be an old acquaintance of Kaveh's. You once studied at the academy together. Our paths often crossed. A friendly guy, although preoccupied with his own problems. They say his financial affairs leave much to be desired.

Ruby eyes sleepily opened, looking in your direction. When he saw that you were awake, he immediately perked up. - "Good morning. How are you?" And that restless look again. He tried to move cautiously, without making sudden movements, as if there was a frightened cat in front of him.

- Good, despite the headache and a lot of questions. Where am I?

The guy jerked. A nervous smile appeared on his face. - "You see..."

Suddenly, another person entered the room. It turned out to be Alhaytham, known for his cold calculation and a lover of solitude. He also used to study at the academy, but your relationship is not friendly. Just a couple of phrases during work or a particularly important case. Thanks to the temporary position of the great sage, he has recently been the one to whom you have submitted your research for verification. So he brought water yesterday.

-Are you awake? Good. It will be much easier for you to realize your position. - He unceremoniously entered the room, sitting down on a chair.

- My position?

He nodded, staring intently at Kaveh. - "We're talking about a new investigation. Recently, a crime was committed at the academy. Someone managed to impregnate several artifacts from a secret vault with a poisonous substance. It would seem that nothing serious, since these things have been gathering dust there for quite a long time, but recently several scientists became interested in exploring the abandoned temple of King Dershret. They just needed these artifacts for verification. Everything was fine at first, until all three of them came down with a severe fever. The fact is that the toxin was discovered in the laboratory where you work. According to your boss, you were the one who worked with him before this incident. That's why you're the prime suspect. "

- What? But... But it would never have occurred to me to harm anyone! Moreover, how can this be related to me if I don't even know these people?!

Such a flow of information made my stomach twist, and tears welled up in my eyes. Poisoning is considered a real crime. There are many dangerous toxins in your laboratory, from which human life may be in danger. A great opportunity to steal the right one and set you up. You started imagining what might happen to you. And the more thoughts about further consequences arose, the scarier they became.

Kaveh turned abruptly in the direction of Haytham. - "Don't push her! Do you see how excited she is?"

He turned in your direction. His gentle actions tried to calm you down, but a noticeable nervousness made itself felt. He didn't like this situation himself, but he had no choice but to play along. - "L-listen. I understand that this whole story has unsettled you. We were also shocked when we found out about your involvement. You know, I don't want you to put yourself in danger. I know very well what kind of person you are. Out of old friendship, we decided to help you. You can hide with us. Practically live here."

You stared at Kaveh with eyes full of despair. That look broke the guy so much that he decided to hug your trembling body. Meanwhile, Al-Haytham was watching you from the sidelines. There was nothing to do but agree to a "temporary" stay in their guest room. It was easier than running blindly from the law. Everyone knows how criminals are treated.

Living with Kaveh and Alhaitam is like being in the middle between two different elements. They are so different from each other and hate each other just as much. Have you often wondered: "Then why do they live together if they don't get along?"

The blond man could only mutter to himself about his miserable life. To which the neighbor replied that he himself was to blame for his misfortune.

It wasn't that bad. These were peaceful days until you started to notice excessive attention to your person.

How paradoxical that Kaveh was trying to keep an eye on you, and Haytham was trying to find out more about you in casual conversations, down to intimate details. All this scared you. Although it's much better to have a few weird neighbors than to be caught and convicted of a crime you didn't commit.

Trying to find the bright side in his situation led to deep reflection. Kaveh has the ability to empathize, which allows him to endear himself to people. As in the past, you spent your time at ease. He was flattered by the way you took care of him during his apathy and stress. The poor guy was sometimes very tired, and only your presence gave him a breath of fresh air. The architect really liked your kindness. It was as if an angel had descended into his unhappy life.

Haytham was cold in his communication. Nevertheless, he enjoyed your discussions. Perhaps that's why he was so passionate about your person. In fact, he doesn't even know why he likes you. During your studies, you worked enthusiastically on projects. He couldn't take his eyes off your figure, bent over the desk in concentration. It looks like one of your potions has bewitched him.

Falling in love is a common thing in adolescence. There's nothing you can do about human nature. It seemed to Haytham that the temporary attraction to the opposite sex would soon pass. But it was some time later, when you, as an adult scientist, put your research on his desk. The secretary thought he was going crazy. As an evil thing, you have grown up, and the forms of an already fully formed girl have rounded out. There was a sexual desire to knock you down on the table and possess you, throwing all your clothes on the floor. Is it strange to think about who you like in this way? His boner confirms it.

Imagine his surprise when the eternally annoying neighbor began to show signs of attention to you. This was the reason for the beginning of a serious conversation between them. Another headache and even more. Eternal discontent, and therefore rivalry. A small fear that Cavecht would get to your heart began to penetrate your body like poison. Haytham didn't realize it himself when he looked at your sleeping body. All that remained in his memory was a picture of his own house and a surprised neighbor.

Kaveh was ready to throw a tantrum all over the neighborhood until he realized that if the kidnapping was solved, he would also be in trouble. Even if he didn't like it. From the darkest corners of consciousness, another side can sometimes break through, which not only approves of Alhaytham's actions, but is also ready to commit "wrong" actions itself. That's why he already had your used panties in his pocket. Their fragrance was intoxicating, like the taste of nectar for a bee. During masturbation, he pressed them to his nose and listened to your scent. Sometimes he put them on his penis, soaking it with his sperm. The realization came only after the high, when he felt really ashamed. Thanks to this, washing clothes always rested on Kaveh's shoulders, as the pleasure session became his shameful habit.

You are so used to their swearing that you did not notice how one of them practically decided the fate of your innocence. You may not like being with two partners at once, but a couple of tricks and manipulations should break your will. The secretary carefully prepared for this case by reading a large stack of literature on sexology and psychology. Thus, he knows the female body like the back of his hand.

Kave is more delicate in this matter. Despite the fact that he can't wait to enter your sweet hole, you still have feelings too. The guy carefully prepares for your connection until his patience breaks down and he practically starts eating you. After such a stormy night, their traces remain on the body. Most of all, Haytham hates looking at your marks left by another person. He will leave a lot more red spots during your date and stick into you much harder. At such moments, sex can be quite violent. It all depends on the mood.

From a moral point of view, such a relationship seems wrong, but you have absolutely nowhere to go. Sitting in four walls becomes boring every day. The guys know that you can't escape because you're afraid of going to jail. One day, Haytham brought a flyer with your face on it as proof that they were looking for you. But he did not mention that the inscription "Missing" was torn off at the bottom. The scribe's lies had a strong effect on you, which surprised Kaveh very much. He knew before how smart Alhaytham was, but to play on a person's mind like that. This gave him a reason to call his neighbor a monster.

After all, you wanted to go outside and check the situation. At least secretly, but for a walk. Maybe if you ask the guys carefully, they can arrange it somehow. Really?

[stellocchia]

Thinking of Secret Life SMP hybrid headcanons right now...

Grian would be a parrotlet. They're the smallest group of parrots and I feel like with how pathetic he's been this season he deserves to be just a little guy. He's still a pesky bird who, as season 6 proved, can definitely cause some mischief despite his reduced size, but he's a little guy anyway.

Jimmy is not a canary. Because, yes, he may have the canary curse, but that's just a fancy name for the curse, not necessarily his hybrid type. No, my man is a dog. He's a goddamn chihuahua. He's all bark and annoying but you take a single threatening step toward him and he shivers in fear.

On the topic of dogs, Martyn is a pomeranian. I'm specifically making him a small dog too because, despite wanting to act cool at the end of session 6, he is still very much the one who was first on yellow and red. My man is not big dog-coded.

Now, unpopular opinion, but Scar is a raccoon hybrid. He's a mischievous chaotic menace of a man. A little criminal ready to scam, commit arson, kill, and steal. He's a raccoon. He hasn't burrowed under anyone's house yet (that I remember at least) but that wouldn't be out of character either. Honestly, I'm appalled by the fact that this isn't a far more popular headcanon for him.

And, before I move on from dogs, Etho is also dog-coded. Specifically an Akbash (big white golden retriever-looking fuckers used for the protection of livestock). I just feel like the protectiveness and overall vibe fit him very well.

Finally, moving on from dogs. Cleo is obviously a zombie hybrid. There are no two ways around it. Though this does allow for my little headcanon that, having to learn on their own skin how to sew they became really good and really quick and they're the ones making all the new outfits for everyone else.

Gem meanwhile is specifically a sculk hybrid. Though I like to think that that came about when she opened the portal. She was a deer hybrid before (mostly because I like the subversion of expectations with a "prey" hybrid so to speak being arguably the most bloodthirsty person on the server) and then it spread like an infection. I figure by now her infected half straight-up looks something like Belos monster for from TOH:

Scott is something like a Reakirt’s Blue Butterfly. Both because the colors match him, and because he is kinda The Social Butterfly. My man is always out and about mingling with others. He's so friendly that he literally didn't struggle to pull off the "love you" challenge when everyone admitted that no one else would have been able to. It would be a waste not to make him some kind of butterfly at least.

Now, for Impulse I have something less reasoned, I just think the idea of him being an imp called Impulse is way too funny to resist. And he is way more of a mischievous one than I usually see people talk about. I've seen the phasmophobia stream where he killed everyone with the cursed items several times in a row just because he wanted to try them out. I know what he's capable of.

Meawhile his bestie Skizz is so capibara coded it's unreal. Like, don't get me wrong, he's plenty chaotic. But also you will never find anyone more lawful good in the Life Series than him. I've been thinking this since Love Island was founded. My man is the king of chilling with everyone. (Aside from Jimmy, rip Jimmy).

At the risk of being boring, I also like seeing Tango as a salamander hybrid. Exclusively because of the mythological connection between salamanders and fire. Also, the idea that every time he's flying (though it's funnier if it's also when he's simply jumping) he's nothing but a ball of fire with a lizard tail is very funny to me.

BigB is a hard one because I've only watched a couple of episodes from his POV so I'm not quite as familiar with the lore surrounding him as I am with the others. So I'm not sure. I want to say enderman because of his cryptid vibes this season, but he's not one of the characters with the biggest connection to the end. Those are mostly BDubs, Gem, and Lizzie, so I don't know. I'm open to suggestions.

Talking about BDubs, why are there no ender dragon hybrid headcanons for him around? I think it would be incredibly ironic if the dragon slayer was a dragon himself. Also, his house is under the Earth just like the End portals. Trust me, it makes so much sense. He's small but so full of righteous anger.

Pearl is no hybrid, she's literally just a witch. I've seen the WITCH animatic and that fundamentally changed my view of her forever. Before I would have said a moth hybrid of some kind because I do like moth Pearl, but I love that specific interpretation so much it's unreal. She is a witch with an army of hellhounds at her back and call.

Mumbo is a vampire because I've seen some art of vampire Mumbo at some point in time and it hasn't left my head since. Also, he's one of the players with the highest bloodlust every time he turns red. We're 2 for 2 on that with his appearances in the Life series. And it's usually also what leads to his demise. So I feel like that would be fitting for a vampire.

Meanwhile, my dearly beloved blorbo Joel is a honey-badger. This is a headcanon that is incredibly dear to me and I've never seen around but it's literally SO FITTING. The absolute crackhead energy, the lack of self-preservation, and the surprising sturdiness as time and time again he gets himself in impossible situations and still manages to survive until pretty much the end are all that exact honey-badger vibe. Like, just thinking of him summoning a hoard of zombies to fight off several infected and surviving for quite a while in those conditions just, really proves my point. Enough said.

Lizzie meanwhile is a very sad sopping wet cat. Just absolutely miserable. One of those cats who look like they're constantly grumpy. The frown has deepened ever since no one came to her party and she's still frowning in the void of death.

[itsbenedict]

How would you make mario a villain?

Huh! Tricky one. I mean, there's tons of Newgrounds parodies about how fucked up it is that Mario goes around crushing turts all day, and there's the obvious "silent scary henchman of the image-conscious dictator" angle. Tricky to cast him as the villain rather than the muscle, though...

There's only one thing that notably motivates Mario, and that's Princess Peach. Extreme devotion, there. For him to have agency, she needs to be removed from the picture- and I think that neatly answers the motive thing, too. Peach hasn't been kidnapped, this time- there's something more permanent. But what? "She's been killed and he's out for revenge" is a little 3edgy5me, and also if Mario sets out to get revenge I think he just gets it. His antagonists have rarely put up the kind of fight that would require him to concoct a villainous scheme.

Who's the protagonist, if not Mario? What is Mario doing that requires someone else to go on an adventure opposing him? How do we make this something that Nintendo would actually consider releasing?

...Okay, what's Mario's usual M.O.? How do we make that villainous? He... goes to dangerous places, nimbly circumvents all obstacles in his way, and claims powerful, usually star-shaped magical objects, in order to rescue the princess. This time... he isn't really concerning himself with who the rightful owners of said magical objects are.

It's a Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego situation. There's been a rash of heists committed by a strange masked phantom thief, and the protagonist's job is to find out how the relics were stolen and where the culprit hid them, and get them back before their clients suffer dire consequences as a result of missing-magic-item-itis. You investigate crime scenes, pick up the phantom thief's trail, chase him down, and bop him one but good to recover the relic and save the day.

This is complicated somewhat because this phantom thief is in league with Bowser, who keeps causing trouble in ways that the phantom thief takes advantage of to get past security. The Koopa Troop often assists the phantom thief in his getaways. Why are they working together???

Flash back. Mario standard plot- Bowser has kidnapped the princess. This time, he's done it using some magic item or invention doohickey whose provenance he doesn't quite understand, which has turned Princess Peach to stone. True to form, Mario goes through several another castles and thrashes Bowser and breaks his evil doohickey, and... uh. This fails to rescue the princess. She is still a statue.

Bowser doesn't know why she's still a statue, and both of them panic. How do they fix this?! They need to try something- find some new magic thing that'll bring her back! They've heard of the Sacred Star of Healing in one of the neighboring Kingdoms (which exist in infinite supply in the Mario universe to be adventured through precisely once and then forgotten about forever), and agree to work together to steal it and use it to restore Peach.

It doesn't work. They ditch it somewhere. They follow up on another rumor- the Golden Coin Spirit in the Treasure Kingdom or whatever, and that's a bust too. And after a couple of these, the international community is forced to call in an expert to catch this thief and bring him to justice.

So who's our protagonist? Who in the Mario universe is a famous detective who specializes in guarding star-shaped magical relics from would-be burglars? WHAT IMPROBABLY LARGE-BRAINED PENGUIN COULD POSSIBLY THWART THIS MASTER CRIMINAL?!?