#hera with her lessons

[thingsphoenix21]

Athena: Hera can I ask you a question why do you always throw such a fit of rage when Zeus... Like he's not gonna change. Hera:I was taught that keeping quiet kept the peace. Until I realized who's peace is it keeping? His? No fucking way.

[klazje]

do you think, given the time, and thrawn’s very intense obsession with his enemies (nightswan) and his inability to not send people to the chiss (eli, ronan) he would’ve tried to convince hera to go to the ascendency?

[hotchscoffeecup]

“Power Struggle”

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: M

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: For months, you and SSA Aaron Hotchner have been toeing the boundary between romance and your careers. When the unsub that's been killing women in Michigan by way of replicating Zeus' punishments from Greek mythology takes you as his next victim, it's up to Hotch and the rest of the BAU team to find you before it's too late. Hurt/comfort and angst with happy ending.

Tags: graphic depictions of violence, reader kidnapped by unsub, blood, implied SA, nudity, electrocution, scarring, hospitals

“You’re telling me someone is out here killing people to recreate, what? Greek legends?” Sheriff McCullen’s brow pinches as he shakes his head.

“Legends are stories often loosely based on a real person or event to teach us a lesson. Mythology is based on supernatural or sacred lore and explains why things came to be. It’s a common mistake.” Reid speaks quickly and methodically, as if reciting from a textbook. “It’s straight out of the mythos,” he explains, his voice tinged with something akin to excitement as he approaches the whiteboard where photos of the victims had been pinned up for review. Using a ballpoint pen as a pointer, he taps the first image of the first victim. “Regina Manford, she was found tied to a boulder in Craig Lake State Park with her liver removed. Animal predation showed birds had pecked at her while she was still alive. In Greek mythology, Zeus did this to Prometheus to exact revenge on him after he stole fire to give to man.”

Reid moves on to the next victim, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did so. “Sarah Walters was found bound to an old water wheel that had been set on fire. Greek Mythology suggests this is a copy of Zeus’ punishment for Ixion.”

“And what did he do to deserve that?” asks the sheriff.

Reid’s lips form a tight line. “He was invited into Zeus’ home on Olympus. After attempting to seduce his wife, Hera, Zeus punished him by binding him to a wheel of fire cursed to spin forever toward the underworld. She might’ve smiled or even looked at him, and in his delusion believed she was a seductress deserving of punishment.”

“So, what? This guy sees himself as some sort of god?”

“We believe that is his delusion, yes,” answers Emily. “Each victim also bore signs of sexual trauma, this is something Zeus is also renowned for in the mythology. Our unsub thinks he’s infallible and that these women’s lives and deciding when and how these women live and die is his divine right.”

“Do we know if there will be more victims?” asks one of the detectives.

You step forward from your place between Morgan and Hotchner. “Given the number of victims Zeus punished within the mythology, we can assume he is not finished. These kills are two weeks apart. It’s been twelve days since the last body was found. We can only assume he’s currently hunting for his next victim. And when he finds one, he convinces her to go to a second location. It's once they leave the primary location that he attacks. In each case, the victim suffered a blow to the head, leaving a uniquely shaped gash in her forehead. This suggests that he strikes them with a distinct blunt object or even a ring that’s on his hand.”

“We need every man out on the streets,” Hotch states, his eyes hard as he scans the group of law enforcement gathered to receive the profile. “He stalks his victims in the city, often on the weekends when night life is busiest. He’s charming. He has no problem approaching women because he views himself as a deity and carries himself with the arrogance and confidence of one. He’s white, in his early to mid 30s, good looking, charming, and likely has a career that would’ve provided him with medical training.”

A female detective with short blonde hair sticks her pencil in the air. “How do we know that?”

“The incisions made on Regina’s body were clean, precise, and showed no signs of hesitation,” explains Rossi. “The M.E. also informed us that the hepatic artery was clamped off, meaning,” Rossi hesitates before continuing on, “meaning Regina Mansford was alive as her liver was being cut from her body.”

An uncomfortable murmuring breaks out. Hotch raises a hand, silencing them. Your mouth goes dry and you swallow, hoping your team doesn’t notice the way your eyes dilate when you look at him and the silent way in which he can command a room.

“This is why we need every available officer on the streets. Increase units in the downtown area. Have plain clothes officers on the streets. That’s where we’ll be. Thank you.” Hotch tucks his head and sweeps out of the bullpen, the rest of the team trailing after him into the conference room.

“Where do you want us?” asks Morgan as you shut the door to the conference room.

“Reid, I want you here working the geographical profile. See if there’s anything we missed that could bring us closer to a precise location where he’s kidnapping his victims. Rossi and JJ, I want you to go back to Sarah’s apartment and see if we missed anything that tells us where she was exactly on the night she was kidnapped. Derek and Emily take the north side of downtown.” He inclines his head toward you. “You and I will take the south side.”

His eyes linger on yours a moment longer than they ought to have. You dip your head and swiftly exit the room, jacket in hand as you prepare to brave not only the frigid Michigan cold but working one one-on-one with Hotch. This had been going on for months; subtle looks, brief touches where his fingers would slide over yours while passing off a case file…yet a part of you still wasn’t sure if it would ever go any further than that. You spend so much of your time with the team, it would be so easy to mistake one gesture for something that it wasn’t. Yet you knew that wasn’t true. You know behavior. You’re trained to recognize the subtlest of shifts in demeanor and body language and you know exactly what is going on.

You jump as someone pushes through the front door of the precinct. Emily’s gentle laugh disrupts your rumination. “Sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She moves to stand closer to you as she zips her jacket. “The guys went to grab the cars.”

You nod and shove your hands in your pockets.

Emily arches a perfectly manicured brow. “What’s up?”

You school your expression and feign nonchalance. “Nothing, I just want to catch this guy before he hurts anyone else.”

Emily’s brow furrows and then straightens, a glimmer of knowing in her eye. “Something tells me there’s a different guy on your mind.”

Your heart skips a beat and you nearly choke on the crisp winter air. “What? I don’t—“ Your words falter as Derek and Hotch arrive, the SUVs humming to a gentle stop at the curb.

Emily eyes you, a sly smile curving one side of her red lips. “We’ll talk later.” She winks and steps forward to open the passenger side door, sliding inside and disappearing into the dark interior.

As you turn to move toward the SUV, Hotch is there, opening the door for you. The gesture surprises you, but it shouldn’t. He’d been doing little things like this for weeks now. You nod your head in thanks and as you turn your body to slide past him, his hand catches your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers glide against the small of your back, guiding your movement into the vehicle.

His hard eyes meet yours as he shuts the door and you’re grateful for the shadows inside the car as you feel your face flush bright red. Hotch slides into the driver’s seat with ease. He shifts the car into gear and pulls onto the road, heading in the direction of downtown.

After a few minutes, you open your mouth to disrupt the silence, but his cell rings. Hotch answers and places it on speaker as JJ’s voice floats through the receiver, “Hotch, we think we’ve got something at Sarah Walters apartment.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

“There’s a sticky note in her trash can,” a garbled sound echoes through the speaker as she shifts the phone. The sound of paper crinkles as she reads, “Tony’s at 9, does that mean anything? Has Garcia come across a Tony in any of her research into the victims’ lives? Maybe an Anthony?”

An image of a neon sign flashes across your mind’s eye. “It’s a bar,” you say matter-of-factly.

“A bar?”

“I remember seeing the sign on our drive-in. It’s a bar on the south side of downtown. That could be where he’s meeting these women.”

“We’re only a few blocks away, we’ll head there now. Thank you, JJ.” He hangs up and slips the phone into his jacket pocket.

“How do you want to play this?” you ask.

“We go in, make observations, see if we can identify anyone that matches the profile.”

You smirk and a small laugh escapes your lips.

“Something funny?” Hotch asks, his voice low in his throat.

You purse your lips, pausing before you proceed. “If we go in looking like feds, we’ll scare this guy away.” You tilt your head, considering. “Well, one of us anyway.”

A slight twitch in his brow is the only indication your words have just barely gotten under his skin. “Touched a nerve, sir?”

As the traffic light ahead blinks red, he eases the car to a stop. He breathes out slowly, the amber glow of the stoplight reflecting in his eyes. In less than two heartbeats, he thrusts the car into park and with both hands clasps your face, drawing you in to kiss you with such fervor white spots dot your vision. It takes a moment to process the heat of his mouth on yours and the way his tongue slides between your lips, and before you can truly reciprocate the light turns green and he pulls back, his breathing ragged against your mouth as his forehead touches yours. “Be careful when and how you choose to call me sir.”

Before you can exhale, his eyes are on the road again and you’re driving deeper into downtown.

“Understood,” and then you add, almost imperceptibly, “sir.”

A small smile quirks at the corner of his lips, but he says nothing more as you approach your destination.

It's nearing 9:30pm when you pull up on the street parallel to Tony’s. People trickle in and out of the bar in groups of twos and threes; most are young, in their mid to late twenties.

“Right,” you say as you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to exit the vehicle. “Stay here.”

“Excuse me?” Hotch asks, reaching over your lap and grabbing your wrist to stay your hand from popping the door open. Your breathing stills and he just barely turns his face toward yours. “Since when do you give me orders?”

Unsure where the confidence to challenge him comes from, you lean in near his ear. You swallow once before speaking. “I think you like taking them.” Feeling incredibly brazen, you nip at his ear once and as the unexpected gesture disarms him; flick your wrist out of his grasp and pop the door open. You slide out of the car and are immediately greeted by the frigid January air eliciting goosebumps up and down your arms. Extending an arm overhead to hang on to the frame of the SUV; you lean down into the cab of the vehicle. “I’ve got you right here,” you say as you tap the hidden earpiece. “Let me know if you see anyone from the outside that fits the profile.”

Hotch eyes you and there’s a fierceness in his gaze. You wonder if he’s thinking of how he’ll ultimately retaliate for your little role reversal now that he’s gone and upped the ante in this little game of cat and mouse. “See you soon,” you wink and slam the door shut.

As you approach the bar, you make sure your coat is buttoned in a way that hides your sidearm and credentials from sight. The bouncer doesn’t even pretend to ask for an ID as you approach and move through the front door with ease. As you cross through the threshold, your senses are assaulted by the smell of beer on tap, the sharp tang of liquor, grease, and an amalgamation of perfumes and colognes.

Immediately you begin scanning the room. You note the layout of the bar: three exits for patrons, the one you just came in through, one near the bathrooms for cigarette smokers, and an emergency exit on the far right wall near to the kitchen. There are three pool tables all of which are occupied as well as three dart boards along the far wall. Groups of friends engage one another and dates carry on without a hitch. You approach the bar, which is centered along the far wall. Stools line the high countertop and behind the bar, two women work to fulfill the never-ending drink orders. You approach the bar and slide into one of the empty seats, relaxing your shoulders as you do so, and order a rum and coke that you don’t plan on drinking.

After a moment the bartender drops a cocktail napkin in front of you and places the drink on top. You thank her and stir the contents of the drink with the swizzle stick popped inside.

“Is this seat taken?” an unfamiliar voice causes the hair on the back of your neck to prickle and you know immediately that it’s him.

Painting on a saccharine sweet smile, you turn toward the voice. A white man, standing at about 6’2”, is smiling down at you. The neon lights behind the bar reflect in his blue-gray eyes and his honey blonde hair falls in soft waves to his shoulders. “Please,” you say demurely and gesture toward the seat. You tell him your name and continue smiling.

“Ronan Carlson,” he introduces himself as he slides in beside you and adjusts the lapels on his leather jacket, a fake Rolex peeking out from his sleeve. He’s preening, you think to yourself. The bartender approaches from behind the bar and he smiles, the curve of his lips the opening act of his charming performance. “I’ll have what she’s having, thank you.” He pulls a roll of cash from the inner pocket of his jacket, flips through several bills, and pulls a $100 bill free before sliding it across the counter to her.

The bartender’s eyes widen in surprise and he winks at her. She nods her thanks and turns to make his drink.

“That was very kind of you,” I say, stirring my drink for the thirteenth time.

He shrugs and tips the baseball cap he’s wearing down over his eyes and you know it’s to obstruct the view the cameras have of him. “It’s only money, and I think I may have made her night.” He inclines his head toward the bartender whose head is bent close to the other woman’s. She’s smiling wide and shows her the $100 bill.

Internally, you roll your eyes hard, but externally you smile and look at him from beneath your lashes. “You must have a great job, what do you do for work?”

His hand flexes as he sets his drink down on the counter and you note the two chunky platinum rings he wears on his right hand. There are symbols etched into them offset by different colored stones, but you don’t want him to catch you staring as he answers, “I’m in business for myself these days,” he says with no further explanation. “Though I used to be in the military.”

You feign surprise, though you were hopeful he’d continue to divulge information. “The military, wow. Let me guess,” you pause and allow your eyes to slowly scan him from head to toe. You remember the profile. “Army…medic.”

“Reign it in,” you hear Hotchner’s voice through the earpiece. “Be mindful of how much you reveal to him. Don’t let him know you know more about him than he’s letting on.”

You watch him assess you and your read into him. One blonde brow creeps up toward his hairline and that wicked smile curves his lips again. “Excellent guess, how do you figure?”

Leaning on to your forearms, you push your drink aside and slide your hand over his and you don’t miss the way his fingers tense at your touch.

“It’s the hands,” you say coyly. “You look like you know how to handle yourself.” He relaxes under your touch and a heat ignites in his eyes that makes your stomach churn, but you don’t let it show on your face. “You look like you know how to handle a lot of things.”

He licks his lips and turns the ring on his finger. “Tell you what,” he says as he picks up his drink. He places the glass to his lips and downs its contents. “Why don’t we get out of here?” He looks down at you from beneath dark lashes. “And I’ll show you just how much I can handle.”

You stand up and flash him a grin. “Let me quickly freshen up and I’ll meet you out front.”

His lips quirk into a smirk, “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

You smile as you slip away toward the bathroom. As you push through the crowd you inform Hotch that the unsub is on his way out.

“There’s a line growing out the door,” he answers over the earpiece. “Does the description match the profile?”

“To a T,” you answer as you push past a couple with their tongues in each other's mouths. The amount of patrons has increased dramatically over the last hour. The volume of the music makes it hard to hear through the earpiece. You push your way into the restroom and are surprised to find it empty. Fortunately, the outside noise is muffled. You begin to describe Ronan’s appearance and note the jacket and hat he’s wearing. “He’s wearing two oddly shaped rings,” you add. “I think it’s what’s caused the unusual injury to the victims’ faces.”

“I’ve got him. He’s cutting through the line toward the parking lot.” You hear the car door open and slam.

“Got it, I’ll be right there.”

“Good work,” Hotch says over the open line.

You smile to yourself as you unbutton your jacket, glad to be on the receiving end of his praise. For a split second you wonder what else you could be on the receiving end of if you continue to play this game with him. After the case, you remind yourself. Priorities. Priority number one is getting this sick bastard off the street, and he’s right here within your grasp. You shoulder the door as you reach for your gun, positioning your thumb over the rotating hood to dislodge your weapon from its holster.

Over the speakers, an employee is calling to celebrate someone’s birthday. The crowd is distracted and pushing toward the source of celebration. The bar erupts into an off key rendition of Happy Birthday but you don’t hear it as 30,000 volts of electricity course through your veins. Your muscles spasm and lock up as you fall forward. Pain radiates from your abdomen in waves that crash over you again and again. You try to tell your body what to do as strong arms catch you and pull you into a chest that smells like cigarette smoke, but your limbs don’t cooperate. You feel his nose root into your hair as his lips find your ear. “How’s that for capable?”

As he shoulders your weight and steers you out through the emergency exit you hear Hotch’s voice in your ear. “It’s not him!” There’s an edge of panic in his voice as he says your name. “Do you copy? It’s not him. He gave another man $500 to wear his hat and jacket into the parking lot. It’s not him. Do you have eyes on him?”

Dark spots the edges of your vision as he drags your dead body weight. You try to focus all of your ability on getting out any words that can signal to Hotchner what’s happening, any at all but your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton.”

You hear the tinkling of keys and a door slide open. Pain rattles through your skull as he throws you into the back of whatever vehicle he’s operating. Pain slices through your wrists as zip ties slice through the skin there. Through tunnel vision you see him leering at you. He’s backlit by the streetlights.

As his fist flies toward you, you finally manage one word.

“Aaron.”

•

When you come to, the first thing you feel before the splitting pain in your head threatens to cleave your mind in two, is cold.

Your mouth is dry, but as you move to lick your lips you realize you can’t because there’s a gag in your mouth. You try to move your hands, but they’re bound too. Zip ties cut into each wrist, securing them at your sides on the legs of a wooden chair. When you try to shift the chair, you learn that it’s bolted to the floor and your legs are spread open; zip ties at your knees and ankles keep them apart. Except for your bra and underwear, you’re naked. He undressed you. You feel the wound from the stun gun before you glance down at your stomach and see the two bloody pinpricks in your abdomen. You feel your heart rate increase as panic begins to set in. Do not panic , you tell yourself as you take a steadying breath. The minute you start to panic, you’re dead. You close your eyes and piece together the last dredges of your memory.

Tony’s. Sitting at the bar. The unsub. Ronan. Hotch was in pursuit. And then there was just pain.

Hotch.

The pain in your skull is overwhelming and you’re not sure if you can feel the earpiece anymore.

“Hotch,” you attempt to say through the gag. “Hotch, do you read me?”

You close your eyes as hot tears brim along your lash line when there’s no response. The signal is out of range or the unsub found the earpiece and removed it.

A door creaks open on squeaky hinges and your eyes dart toward the source of the sound. Ronan walks through the door with a sick smile on his face. As he saunters toward you, he rolls the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows. Without looking away from you, his arm drops to his side and he scoops a folding metal chair with one hand, carrying it with him as he edges closer to you.

You flinch as he cracks the chair down in front of you, forcing it open. He chuckles as he takes a seat. His eyes skirt the length of your body and you wish any limb were free to deliver a blow to his smug face.

He reaches into his back pocket and withdraws your badge. He flips it open and holds it up to your face, the way his eyes flit between you and your credentials makes your lip curl.

“An FBI agent,” he says slowly. He slaps your credentials shut against his denim-clad thighs. “Hot damn!” he shouts and whoops. He throws your badge to the wayside and it clatters against the cement floor. “I’m going to take my time with you.”

It could’ve been hours. It could’ve been minutes. The torture is unrelenting and the pain is unending. Your chest heaves as you brace yourself for the next surge of electricity. Ronan, if that’s even his real name, twists the knob on the amplifier and taps the jumper cable clamps in his hands together. He smiles when he hears the buzz of electricity between them. As he presses them into your thighs, you cry out in pain as the shockwaves paralyze your body and mind and the pain overwhelms you.

“YES!” he roars as he pulls them away from you. He’d taken his flannel off, but now he peels off his t-shirt, balls it up, and uses it to wipe the sweat off of his face.

With the voltage no longer coursing through your veins, you slump forward, chest heaving as your scrambled brain fights to stay alert.

He drops the cables and clasps your face in his hand, forcing your chin up to meet his wild eyes. “You just don’t quit, do you? You're special.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs as if he cherishes what he’s doing to you. “You are worthy of a god.”

When you come to Ronan is watching you. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his clasped hands.

“She wakes,” he muses.

You glare at him and his brow pinches. He purses his lips together like he’s been stung, but his eyes are alight with amusement.

“You,” he says, gesturing up and down your body, “look beautiful.”

You don’t need to look down to know the number of bloodied burn wounds spanning the lengths of your legs. If you couldn’t keep track of any other thought, the count was all that kept you grounded. There were ten. Five on each leg. Your wrists and ankles bled from the way you’d pulled against them with every shock he delivered.

He reaches forward and this time you don’t flinch. He hooks two fingers into the gag and pulls it down over your chin, his fingers trailing your lips as he does so.

“Here,” he says, bringing a bottle of water to your lips. “Drink.”

You clamp your lips shut and turn your face away. He laughs and shakes his head. “Come on now, don’t refuse me. That’s not how you show gratitude when a god shows you mercy.”

You muster as much hatred into your stare as you focus your attention back on him. “Mercy?” you hiss, and your voice is hoarse from screaming against the gag. It hurts to speak. You pull against your restraints. “This is what you call mercy?”

“I’m only testing you to see if you’re worthy,” he says by way of explanation. "You've lasted longer than the others."

“Worthy of what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“To be my Hera.”

“How is what you’re doing to me, what you did to those other women, going to help you find her?”

“They weren’t worthy,” he answered. “They couldn’t take my power like you could, my lightning. They were false. They needed to be punished.”

He leans in, his lips close enough to yours that you can feel his smoky breath on your skin. “But you, you deserve to be rewarded.” Your skin bristles at his words. His lips find your jawline and you grimace as he drags them up the side of your face. When he pulls away, dried blood flakes onto his skin.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes as he smoothes your sweat-drenched hair away from your face. “You’ll enjoy it.”

Unable to suffer any more of his poisonous bullshit, you rear your head back and slam it forward. Pain explodes behind your forehead, but it’s worth it to hear the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking. He roars in pain and clutches his bleeding nose. White light blinds you as he backhands you and curses your name. His ring splits the skin of your cheek open. The force of the blow causes you to bite your lip and you feel your teeth cut into the chapped skin there. You spit blood at him, angering him further.

“You are false!” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth as he shoves the gag back into your mouth. “You are not her!” He moves to pick up the jumper cables, twisting the knob of the amplifier all the way up causing the bulbs overhead to flicker. You know this is it. If he touches you with those, it will kill you.

Bracing yourself for the killing blow, you go to the grave knowing you did not give in to this bastard.

It never lands.

Instead, three shots ring out and he’s falling to the floor dead at your feet. As the unsub’s body falls, Hotchner’s frame comes into view and a choked sob escapes your lips. He holsters his weapon and runs to you. Emily and Morgan are right behind him. Morgan passes Hotch a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and he makes quick work of the zip ties binding you to the chair. From the corner of your eye, you see Emily turn off the amplifier and check Ronan’s pulse.

Unable to hold yourself up, you fall forward into his ready arms, letting yours fall over his shoulders. Hotch drops to his knee to support your weight. “You’re okay,” he says as he pulls the gag free from your mouth and you sob into his chest. He smooths your hair back from your face, his eyes assessing the damage done to you. Blood stains his shirt, your blood.

“Morgan, your jacket.” Hotch orders.

Without hesitation, Morgan unfastens his bulletproof vest and unzips his jacket. He passes it to Hotch who drapes it around your shoulders in an attempt to preserve some of your modesty.

“I need a medic!” he shouts before directing his attention back to you.

Your eyes waver as you try to keep them open. You lock in on the depths of his warm brown eyes. “You’re going to be fine,” he says but his voice sounds far away.

“He wanted someone to be his Hera,” you say weakly.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Hotch soothes.

You swallow and it hurts your throat to do so. Your lips crack open, “You found me.”

Hotch cradles your head against his chest. “Of course I did.”

You wince as the sound of a gurney crashes into the room, the metal wheels squealing as it draws near. Your head swims as you’re swept into the air and laid out on its cushiony bed. A light shines in your eyes and voices are overlapping. Blindly, you use what strength you have left to drop your hand off the side. Unable to focus your attention on where he is, you know he’ll hear you. “Don’t leave me.”

And as you lose consciousness, you feel his hand slip into yours.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

•

A steady beeping fills your ears as you slowly come to. Your eyes feel bruised and you don’t think you have it in you to open them, but you feel something around your wrists and bolt upright. Pain crashes over you in a wave. It was a dream. You’re still bound in that basement. The beeping increases, growing louder and faster. Someone says your name and you feel hands on your shoulders. You try to swing your fist and are surprised when your arm follows through and makes contact with flesh. Did you break through the zip ties? You hear your name again, clearer this time. A man. He’s asking you to stop, to relax.

“It’s me,” he repeats and says your name again. “You’re safe. You’re in the hospital.” He says your name again. “It’s me, it’s Aaron.”

You stop fighting and blink hard. Hotchner’s stern face comes into view, except there’s concern wavering in the depths of his brown eyes. His brow softens as you relax. A small smile turns the corners of his lips. “Hey there,” he says. A nurse rushes into the room and he raises a hand, “We’re fine, here. Thank you.”

The nurse looks at you and you nod. She looks unsure about leaving but ultimately relents. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”

Aaron cups the back of your head in one of his hands and gently begins to lower you back down onto the pillows behind you. You allow him to guide you and feel the tension ease from your muscles as your back sinks into the surprisingly plush hospital pillow.

As the adrenaline wears off, you’re finally able to take stock of your injuries as the pain quickly makes itself known. You feel your pulse beating in your skull, pounding at your temples, eyebrow, and cheekbone. With shaky fingers, you touch the places where you remember the unsub striking you. You feel a thick bandage taped over your right eyebrow and steri-strips over your cheek. Your lip is swollen from where you bit it.

Bandages encircle your wrists and there’s an IV stuck in your hand. You’ve been dressed in a hospital gown and the sheets are drawn up to your waist covering the burn wounds. You don't have to see them to know how bad they look. The pain is telling enough.

“Is he dead?” you ask, lowering your hand back down to the bed.

Hotch’s lips form a tight line. “Yes.”

You blink back tears as that information sinks in. “Good,” you whisper in a choked voice. You blink and allow your head to loll to the side. A colorful bouquet of roses and carnations dotted with plastic ladybugs and butterflies sits in a clear vase on the side table.

You smile, “Garcia?”

Hotch smiles in turn. “It was tough to convince her to go home and get some sleep, but I promised her I wouldn’t leave you alone. Even then, it was still a hard-fought battle.”

You chuckle and wince as the movement irritates your injuries.

Hotch telegraphs his next move, and you know it’s to avoid startling you. He cups his hand over your uninjured cheek and strokes the skin there with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, and his voice sounds tired and pained. “I should’ve gone inside with you.”

“Hotch, don’t.” You reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist. “Don’t do that to yourself. He didn’t know I was with the FBI until after he took me. If you’d been there, he might’ve pegged us as law enforcement and taken off. He might still be out there and we’d be finding another dead woman in a matter of days. You know I’m right.”

Hotch closes his eyes and heaves a heavy sigh. “I could hear you.”

“What?” you whisper. You try to sit up and wince as the movement stings the wounds in your legs and abdomen. Hotch stands and helps adjust the pillows behind your back before sitting back down in the chair at your bedside.

“Not for very long. He drove out of range, but I heard him speaking to you. I heard the blows land. I heard your head smack against the floor when he threw you in the van.” He stops and shakes his head. “I felt so helpless. I was afraid. I couldn’t get to you, just like,” his voice catches in his throat. “just like I couldn’t get to Haley.”

Your heart breaks for him as he speaks. You reach for his hand and take it, squeezing it. “Aaron, you did get to me. You saved my life.”

He clears his throat and swallows. “Yes, but we were almost too late.”

“But you weren’t,” you state, your tone firm. “Aaron, look at me.”

He hesitates and inhales deeply before lifting his gaze to yours. The corners of his eyes soften as he meets yours and you smile. You gently tug his hand, “Come here.”

Hotch glances toward the door and then back at you, “The doctor—“

“Isn’t going to do shit,” you finish. “I’m the one that endured hours of torture. Pretty sure I’m allowed some close comfort.”

He lets out a shallow laugh. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Standing, he shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair. With one hand he loosens his tie until he’s able to pull it up and over his head. He tosses it onto the chair and circumnavigates the bed, assessing the best way to join you on the small mattress.

You groan as you slide over. Hotch reaches out to stop you but you silence him with a pointed look. “Mind the IV,” you say as you pat the space beside you.

Hotch acquiesces, using the tips of his fingers to raise the IV drip enough for him to slide into bed beside you. He slips an arm around you and drops the feed. It falls across his torso. The feel of his arm around you is comforting, like a security blanket, like safety. You relax into him, and rest your head on his chest. His lips brush against your bandaged brow.

“Not quite how I imagined we’d first be sharing a bed,” you joke softly as you nuzzle in deeper against the wide plane of his chest.

You feel him smile against your hair. “Only you could joke at a time like this.”

“If I can’t laugh at what’s happened, I’ll never be able to close my eyes at night.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” He rubs the bare skin of your arm in small circles. “I’ll be there until you can.”

You turn your head to look at him then, your heart full. This is happening. His eyes are on yours and you push yourself toward him ever so slightly. He closes the small gap between you and presses his lips to yours. It wasn’t hungry and primal like the kiss in the car. There would be plenty of time for that later. This kiss was light, tender…healing.

“Sir, I’m sorry. I tried to go home, I really did but as soon as I got there I—” Garcia’s voice abruptly cuts off. You look up and her initial look of surprise turns to one of abject joy.

You feel your cheeks flush as Emily and Morgan appear in the doorway behind her. Morgan’s eyes widen and Emily’s brow arches as a smile curves her lips.

“I, uh, brought backup.” Penelope giggles. She remembers she’s holding something. “And cookies! I couldn’t sleep, so I baked. I figured I could bribe you into going home and getting some sleep.” Her words leave her mouth at a mile a minute. “I thought you’d fight me on it, so I brought some muscle.” She gestures with a tilt of her head. “They’re the muscle.”

Morgan exhales and points a finger at you and Hotch. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on here?”

Emily elbows him and he drops his arm. She takes the tray from Garcia and walks it over to the side table where she places it next to the flowers. She winks at you as she turns back to Garcia and Morgan. “It’s about time,” she says.

Penelope laughs as she hooks her arm in Emily’s. “What's it been? Two, three months?”

Morgan guffaws. “Months?”

Penelope pats his face with a ring-adorned hand. “My sweet oblivious profiler. Come on, hot stuff.” She takes him by the hand and leads him from the room. Emily shakes her head and laughs. “Men.”

“Safe to say the team knows.”

Hotch releases a breathy laugh and kisses your forehead again. “I know what will be the first thing on the agenda at tomorrow’s debriefing.”

•

6 weeks. It had been 6 weeks since you’d pressed the elevator button that would bring you back to the office. The weight of your gun feels right where it sits upon your hip, your gait more familiar to you now than when it wasn’t holstered to your side. You nervously adjust the grip on your go bag. You’d packed and repacked it the night before.

This morning as you were getting out of the shower, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your cheek had healed nicely though the skin on your brow that had been split by the unsub’s ring had scarred, severing the tail end of your eyebrow from the rest of it. The ligature marks around your wrists and ankles had healed and the skin was smooth once more. The stun gun had scarred your abdomen, but all that remained were two purple pinpricks of scar tissue no bigger than the size of an infant’s thumbnail.

Your legs are a different story. The front of your thighs are an array of mottled scar tissue. One burn had gone so deep that they’d needed to graft skin from your calf to salvage it. The wounds no longer hurt physically, but you’d woken up from nightmares on more than one occasion.

You were never alone though. Garcia worked remotely on secure laptops with VPNs as often as she was able. Rossi brought you home-cooked Italian at least twice a week and talked with you over numerous glasses of red wine. Reid brought black-and-white foreign existentialist films that you didn’t understand, but his enthusiasm as he watched made you happy all the same. Emily and Morgan brought coffee and donuts as often as they could and Hotch…if he wasn’t at the office or visiting Jack, he was with you. On several occasions, he brought Jack. Jack would sit on the bed beside you, playing with his toys, narrating the adventures of his action figures as Aaron stood in the doorway, smiling. At night, when you had woken in a cold sweat, Aaron was there with a washcloth to wipe it away. When the bandages had stuck to your burn wounds and it felt like your skin was being peeled apart, he got your pain medicine and helped change the dressings, holding you until the pain had passed.

You blink as the elevator dings, signaling you’ve reached your destination. You take a deep breath and smooth down the front of your blouse as the door opens wide. Everything looks the same, yet everything feels like it's changed as you approach the desk you occupy perpendicular to Emily’s. A smile crosses your lips as you see the Welcome Bac k card on your desk. Two vases of flowers sit behind the card. One is almost exactly like the one from the hospital so you know it’s from Garcia. The other, a bouquet of purple tulips, has a note attached to it. You open the note and read it.

Glad to have you back. Things haven’t been the same around here without you. -AH

Hotch. You should’ve known. You smile and tuck the note into your purse.

“Hey, hey, look who’s finally decided to get her ass back to work.” Morgan’s charming laugh is followed by Emily chastising him.

“Ignore him,” she says as she places a steaming mug of coffee on your desk.

“You’re a godsend,” you say by way of thanks and take a long drink. Two sugars, no milk, just the way you like. “Wow, Emily, that’s perfect. I needed this.”

“How come you don’t remember how I take my coffee?” Morgan asks pointedly.

She shrugs, “Chicks before dicks, Derek.”

You sputter and choke on your coffee.

“Look,” he says as he pats you on the back. “Her first day back and you’re gonna kill her.”

At that moment JJ passes by with a file in hand. She raises it in the air and gestures to the conference room. “We got a case.” She smiles at you warmly. “It’s good to have you back.”

Together, you, Morgan, and Emily enter the conference room where Reid, Hotch, and Rossi have already gathered. Once you’re all sat, JJ begins presenting the case. You review current victims and why the Sacramento Police Department has invited you onto the case

“Sacramento PD is expecting us this afternoon. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us. Wheels up in thirty, understood?”

A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ echo throughout the room. As the team gathers their belongings and moves to leave, you wait for Hotch to catch your eye. You wink at him before mouthing, “Yes, sir.”

[jessicas-pi]

When Father breaks the news about the Jedi to Hera, she just stares up at him in bewilderment, then runs into her room and slams the door.

She doesn't come out for hours, and when she does, her eyes are dry---she hasn't cried. At dinner, she numbly remarks that they'll have to buy her something in white, because she's in mourning now.

From that day on, she wears no other color.

Hera never sheds a tear. She can't. Not with the Empire watching. But she wears white, and hears the people around her ask each other who Cham Syndulla's daughter is in mourning for--and sometimes, she hears other people answer.

It was her soulmate, I think. I hear he was a Jedi.

She wears white long past the time of mourning has ended. She wears it defiantly at dinner parties with Imperial Admirals. She wears it when she works on her mechanic projects and when she takes flying lessons and when she graduates at the top of her class. She wears it when her family goes on the run, and then she starts talking about him.

Caleb had eyes like the clearest sea, she says abruptly, one time, when some of her peers are gathered together chatting about their soulmates and she's sitting on the edge of the group, staring solemnly at nothing.

Caleb used to call me his little sister, she laughs in tragic commiseration, when her best friend is bemoaning his soulmate's habit of referring to him as her brother-from-another-mother. He didn't know I wanted him to marry me someday.

Hera talks about him freely. She tells how they met. She tells how they talked late into the night on comm calls until her parents started confiscating her commlink overnight. But she doesn't talk about her soulmark. Few people know where it once was, and no one has seen the place it used to be.

She wears long sleeves and keeps her right shoulder covered constantly, hiding the smooth skin that bore a three-pronged mark. She has to. If she doesn't, people will realize that she has been lying to the whole galaxy since she was nine years old.

Hera wears white because she wants everyone else to believe she's mourning her dead soulmate.

But the truth is, she doesn't mourn for Caleb.

She can't mourn for Caleb.

Her soulmark is still there.

Caleb isn't dead.

[shanastoryteller]

happy halloween 🎃👻 gods and monsters please!

Hera wonders sometimes about how it all would have shaken out if she'd chosen a different husband.

Perhaps it would have been her heart that Amphitrite claimed in exchange for Poseidon's throne. Very little would have changed, then, except perhaps the ease. She'd be just as ruthless, just as hated, except she wouldn't care as much and she'd be almost as powerful. Almost.

Hades would have given her more power, access to all the dead and the power they wielded, but that was the problem. Power below that could be used above, but not without cost. Hades's power exceeded Zeus's, but he's never been interested in paying the price it would cost to use it.

If she had married for love, maybe it all would have been different, maybe power wouldn't matter to her at all.

She doubts it.

Power was her first love, after all. Hephaestus was her second, and look how that ended.

She'd done better with Ares and Eris, but she learned her lesson well.

If she'd been more powerful, then Zeus wouldn't have been able to tear Hephaestus from her.

Her one mistake was depending on a husband for power in the first place, but she'd been impatient in her youth. She'd learned.

[percyluvr]

helloooooo!!!! can i request a percy jackson x daughter of hera!reader headcanons?? it would be pretty interesting to see hera having a child tbh

thank you if you do 💛

percy jackson x daughter of hera!reader summary: hcs for percy with a daughter of hera

when he first met you he was kinda worried bc he has beef with hera

but he's also confused bc wasn't she not supposed to have kids??

he expected you to be just like your mom

and you lowkey were

but you were a bit less.. uptight

but at the same time, u cant really blame her, her husband literally cheats on her so much

BUT ANYWAYS

i think u'd be so caring to him and he would love it SO MUCH

since hera is the goddess of marriage and childbirth, u would lowk take care of him like hes ur son

but like not in a weird way

u just care ab him so much that u baby him all the time

since both of ur cabins are always empty except for each other, u have sleepovers all the time

u have a pretty close relationship w ur mom, esp because ur her only demigod kid

percy isnt really jealous per say, bc he's decently close w poseidon, but like

he wishes he was that close with him

hera visits u in ur dreams a LOT bc she just loves u a lot

zeus is mad but she dgaf cuz ur her only daughter

and only kid

so obviously she's protective

esp when u tell her that u and percy r dating

shes at camp the next day asking u to introduce her to him

which ur like "mom pls y'all have already met"

and shes like "yes, but never when he was ur bf"

so u just go along w it bc u love her

they're lowk beefing bc she doesnt want u to get hurt

but as time goes on she realizes how much percy loves u and cares abt u

and she thinks ur the cutest couple ever

she is ready for yall to get married bc shes gonna throw the most extravagant and perfect wedding

and shes so excited esp bc ur the only kid she's going to be able to do this for

have i mentioned that she loves u a lot?

ANYWAYS

yk how in like house of hades and i think chalice of the gods when percy looks at annabeth and is js like "i cant wait to marry her and have kids"

yeah, hes like that but 300000x

and he's so excited bc he knows that ur gonna be SUCH a good mom

people always think ur weak bc ur mom "lets herself get cheated on"

or whatever dumbass shit they be saying

but u prove them wrong

mothers r fr the most powerful people in the UNIVERSE

and ur basically a mother bc u take care of everyone at camp

ur always at the infirmary helping the apollo kids bc its just in ur nature to love taking care of people

and percy always comes in with even the smallest little injuries

and it just warms ur heart to know that he wants to come see u even when ur working

u take care of the little baby pegasi too omg

gn thats so cute

imagine if blackjack had a lil baby pegasi and u took care of it

and percy is just like

melting

ur so sweet to them even if theyre "just horses"

it makes him so excited to have kids w u

whenever u see a little kid

or like a younger camper

u always tell him that u cant wait to go to new rome uni and then get married and have kids w him

the two of u are just so excited for the future with each other fr

i just think the two of u would be taking care of the pegasi and u would fall asleep in the hay after staying up talking

big surprise for the kids that have riding lessons that morning...

yall werent embarrassed tho cuz u have no shame fr

well, u have shame

percy has none

not the point.

everyone at camp sorta sees u as a mother and they always come to u

lowk camp therapist

bc they NEED one real bad

but it doesnt bother u bc u love to help them

ur always trying to fix problems at camp

and its very upsetting for you when you cant, and percy is always there to comfort u

ur lowk a meddler like ur mom

but its okay bc ur just worried about ur friends

i think that u would maybe have some soothing powers kinda like a hypnos kid, where u can like calm people down or put them to sleep

i also think that percy would suffer from panic attacks after his nightmares

so after he has a nightmare, you're there and if you can't soothe him with your words you just use ur powers

u can't stand to see him like that

it just upsets you so much

percy is so grateful for ur powers, but hes even more grateful for you

i think ur a lot more relaxed than most people at camp

and u dont really see the point in doing dangerous things for fun

which is different for percy, but he really does like it

he likes that he can just go to you and ask to relax and ur always down for that

its a change of pace that is definitely welcome and necessary in his life

ur definitely more of a rational thinker than him, so u stop him from doing some pretty stupid things

but u would never stop him from having fun

or doing thing that are important to him

ur relationship is lowk the blue print

yall just take care of each other fr

and ur like an old married couple which u two get teased ab

but u dont care

cuz u cant wait to get married lol!

a/n: this was a vv interesting request to write and i honestly loved imagining what a child of hera would be like so thank u for the req!

[persorene]

Hera still mothering all of her kids makes me so happy.

Sabine: Did Ahsoka actually want me back or did my mom sign me back up for Jedi lessons and beg Ahsoka to take me

Huyang: that second thing

[crownofgildedlilies]

my peaceful nights belong to you

in which: a son of poseidon has himself convinced a daughter of athena doesn’t want to listen to him complain.

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of athena!reader

warnings: angst, my poor percy has been through TOO MUCH

tropes: hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers

word count: 2.1k

a/n: friendly reminder that request r open (esp for headcanons) and bc I have a four hour layover tmrw I will be absolutely active on here. plz enjoy. also, this is inspired by a tiktok I saw that said Percy's trauma is so overlooked. so here's me not overlooking it.

All eyes were on the great Percy Jackson.

Yours were, too, don’t be fooled. You had always found him impossible to look away from. But it wasn’t admiration you were studying him with as tales of his quests were told and retold and embellished around the bonfire. Quests you had been on, each and every time.

No, you were watching him with concern.

Because the son of the sea was drowning in all the attention.

It was almost painful for you to watch, but you couldn't look away.

A beautiful train wreck, you supposed, studying Percy's uncomfortable but obliging conversation with one of the newer sons of Ares who hadn't been around for Kronos or Gaea and simply thought fighting in those wars had been fun.

But people had died. Your people, your friends. It was war, and it was painful, and even though you were the daughter of the war goddess, you hated it with every inch of your being.

No amount of planning on your behalf could have saved Beckendorf. There was no stopping Leo from sacrificing himself.

"That's called being a demigod," Percy had told you one day, offhanded, sometime between nearly dying in a volcanic explosion and being stolen from her by Hera.

"That doesn't mean we have to stand idly by and accept it," You had countered, frowning, and Percy must have realized he'd said something that had upset you, because he had pulled you into a hug and muttered an apology you still hadn't worked out was necessary or not.

But what you did know was that he was your best friend, that you had been in love with him since you were both fourteen, and he absolutely did not want to talk about all his past glories like a good little Greek hero.

Seated on a front-row bench with Grover on on side and an assortment of other campers you knew he wasn't close with surrounding him, you knew you had to run a rescue mission.

Especially since Grover was too distracted by eating his marshmallow roasting stick to realize how tense Percy was as the Ares kid went on and on.

"Perce, there you are." You wedged yourself into the not-entirely open spot next to your best friend, smile on your lips and a sly look in your eyes. Percy's own widened in sight relief, his arm wrapping loosely around your shoulders in a casual movement that was entirely too familiar. "Thought you ran off on me."

"Never," He sighed, some of his tension already dissipating. You grinned a little unevenly at him, not wanting to give the others watching any clues that the great Percy Jackson wasn't completely and utterly alright.

"Good," You bumped him with your shoulder, and he squeezed his arm around you for just a brief moment, tugging you close to his side. You had to turn and face the young Ares boy to keep yourself focused. "How are your archery lessons coming?"

The new camper looked slightly put out about the change in conversation, but you pinned your stare on him and didn't back down. For a moment, you thought he would continue to pester Percy with questions about fighting in two wars, even with you sending up very clear signals that neither of you were interested.

But the boy made the right choice, launching into a rant about how long range combat was not his strength.

Halfway through the story about almost shooting Connor Stoll's foot, you felt Percy lean towards you, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he dropped his voice to a whisper, meant only for you.

"Thank you,"

Since you had taken half a seat, your body was pressed firmly against his from your ankles to your shoulders. His touch warmed your skin like a sunny day on the beach, and you weren't sure if it was a son of Poseidon thing or a Percy Jackson thing.

So instead of answering him, you set one of your hands on his leg, just above his knee, and squeezed.

The moon was shining over camp when you gave up on finding sleep and decided to sneak out.

You’d been around long enough to know just how to sweet talk Mr. D into letting you be out past curfew, and Chiron had a soft spot for you, since you helped save the world. Twice. It was the harpies catching you that you were afraid of.

Travis Stoll had almost learned the hard way that Mr. D was not kidding about them eating campers.

But children of Athena had passed on the secret to sneaking out through generations, and you were exploiting that very information for a midnight trip to the lake to stargaze there when you spotted movement on the roof of Cabin Three.

Really, you weren't in control of your own actions as you turned swiftly to change course. Maybe it was Tyche with her luck or Aphrodite with her meddling in the affairs of the heart that had you scaling the side of Poseidon's cabin, a path you had taken more than once.

Or maybe, for once, you couldn't blame the gods. Maybe you were the only one making the choices that had you settling on your back beside Percy on the slanted cabin roof.

He hadn't seemed all too surprised to see you, but all he offered in way of greeting was a nod before he returned to studying the sky above.

You only let the silence last for three minutes, a gnawing feeling in the pits of your stomach unable to let it be.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, voiced simultaneously quiet and startlingly loud in the otherwise silent night. With your head turned to watch his side profile, you watched him tumble from his thoughts and back onto that rooftop, with you.

"What?" He was playing coy, you knew him well enough. What you didn't understand was why he was holding back with you, of all people. You, who had been there with him from the night Grover dragged him over Half-Blood Hill. Who had followed him and Grover and Annabeth across the country to save his mom, who fought Luke and Kronos with him, and mourned the loss of so many friends.

You, who hadn't slept for six months when he disappeared, only to find him in New Rome with the claim that he had forgotten everyone and everything but you.

His tether to his life. His best friend. His something more.

"About whatever is bothering you so much tonight." You shot him a flat look, but his was still doing a good job at avoiding your eye. Frowning, you nudged him with your elbow. "I saw you at the bonfire, Perce. Something is eating at you."

For a moment, it was silent. And then Percy drew in a deep breath, like he was readying himself for something, but he still hadn't looked at you.

"I guess I’ve just been thinking about just… everything." He sighed, but you could hear the apprehension and exhaustion in his voice. He was still keeping things back, but you couldn't understand why. And that killed you, as a child of Athena. "I've been fighting since I—we—were twelve. It's too..."

"Too what?" You prompted when he trailed off, his voice dying in the warm night air. Your hand brushed against his on the rooftop between your bodies, and you considered the risks of just grabbing his hand and squeezing to offer comfort while he sorted through his thoughts.

"Forget it." He shook his head, and your heart sunk. "You don’t want to hear me complain."

You frowned, twisting to face the sky and wracking your Athena blessed mind for some way to prove to him that you did, in fact, want to hear it. You wanted to hear anything, ever, that he had to say.

But when words failed you, actions didn’t, and you finally stopped pretending to accidentally brush your pinky against his and just wrapped your hand around his.

You both stayed like that for a while, quiet and thinking, until you turned your head to face him, unsurprised to find a stormy look on his face while he still studied the stars. Maybe he was thinking of Zoë, of all the others the two of you had lost over the years.

But you were thinking about him, only.

"I’ve been fighting with you since you came to camp," Your words were quiet, little more than a summer’s breeze brushing across Percy’s skin, but you knew he heard you. "But maybe now we’re not fighting monsters anymore. Maybe we’re fighting the memories and scars they left behind. But I’m still fighting with you, Percy."

He turned his head, then, his eyes finding yours like they were always meant to. And, deep down, part of you knew they were.

Every shared glance during combat, or after a stupid joke, or when a battle ended and all either of you could do was search the carnage for a hint of the other—those eyes had found you.

"I’m just so scared I’ll never get to live my life.” Percy confessed, voice hauntingly hollow. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back like a lifeline. “I don’t know if I’m running away from what’s already happened or into the next big mess. And what if next time… what if…"

He trailed off, eyes wide in panic, a bit of desperation. You squeezed his hand again, because you couldn’t give him the words. He needed to find them himself.

Percy screwed his eyes shut and darted forward, slotting his mouth over yours in an unexpected, horribly angled kiss. Teeth clashed together, your bottom lip caught in the mayhem and you gasped at the slight bite of pain.

He jumped back like you had burned him, propped up on one arm as he leaned on his side next to you.

"I, shit, I shouldn’t have—" He fumbled for words, already trying to shuffle further away from you, but you held tight onto his hand to keep him close, sitting up to follow him. "Please, let’s just forget about this, okay? I just, I got caught up in everything and—"

"Tell me you didn’t want to kiss me, then." You promoted, brows knitted together as you studied his face, desperate for a glimpse of how he was feeling revealed to you in the moonlight. "Because if you can’t say it meant nothing to you, you need to tell me, right now."

"I… can’t say it."

And just like that, you were the one kissing him, one hand curving around the back of his neck to keep him close while the other remained threaded through his fingers. His free hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin as if he needed confirmation that this was real, that you were real.

When you finally pulled apart to breathe, you didn’t go far. Not from him. Never from him.

"I was worried next time I wouldn’t get the chance to do that." Percy finished his thought from before, a little dazed from the kiss you both had been long awaiting, apparently. You smiled softly and closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against his.

"If you’re running towards the next prophecy, I’ll run with you." You promised, pausing only briefly to shift your position so you and Percy were laying on the roof again, only this time your head was propped on his chest and his arm was wrapped securely around you. "But if you want to sit up here and talk about the monsters you’re running from, I’ll do that, too."

"Thank you." He echoed his words from the earlier bonfire. And you could tell from his voice that he really was thankful. Because as tough as he was, Percy Jackson was still half mortal. "I…" He started, the air thick with tension about what he was going to confess. "I keep having dreams about Tartarus."

You let him talk, devoting your attention and mind to him, tracing shapes and stars and waves against his chest by your head while he spoke.

Time moved quickly that way, with talk of his fears and what weighed heavily on his mind broken up only when his throat would clog with emotion and you would tilt your head up to kiss away the memory long enough for him to regain his composure.

Because no one knew him better than you, and he didn't have to be the great Percy Jackson with you.

He could just be Percy, the boy who was haunted by his past and terrified of his future.

And you would give him all of your peaceful nights for him to have only one.

[bikananjarrus]

the thing is, kanan and hera are So. Young. they’re so young!!!!

i think one of the (kind of unfortunate) side effects of the fandom placing them in these boxes of “mom and dad of the group” is that a lot of people forget they’re really not THAT much older than sabine and ezra (or at least, comparatively, the age gap between sabine & ezra and kanan & hera isn’t as big as the age gap between zeb and the teens).

like kanan and hera are 28 and 24, respectively, in s1 of rebels. putting kanan at only 32 when he dies (again, that’s so young!!). sabine and ezra are 16 (going on 17) and 14 (going on 15) in s1. which means hera is barely 8 years older than sabine. there are plenty of siblings around the world that have that much of an age gap. obviously, those age gaps are going to lend to some differences in thinking, life experience, etc. but given that they’ve all grown up under the thumb of the empire, they have a lot of similar experiences, even with the age gap.

yes, kanan and hers themselves make jokes in canon about being the “parents” of the group (“make mom and dad proud”; saw referring to sabine and ezra as their kids; etc.) and i think it's a fair enough comparison, considering they're the founding members of the ghost crew. but they're not just the "parents"; they're friends with the other ghost crew members!

and, importantly, kanan and hera are also still just young adults! (young adults, as in, not middle-aged adults; not young adults in the way that ezra and sabine are young adults/teens. you know what i mean). they've accomplished a lot, they're competent and smart and mature, but they're young. they still make mistakes and sometimes screw up when talking about their feelings and yes, they teach the younger members of their crew valuable lessons, but they also learn a lot from the teens too. because they're still learning and growing!

anyway, just thinking about how kanan and hera were practically kids when they met, and how they've grown up together (and done a lot of growing as people, together), and how they take these younger teens under their wings and also a middle-aged lasat with no home to go back to, and they all grow and learn from each other.

[spiralingemptyness]

Zeus is a shit parent, obviously. His brothers are better parents obviously.

Here’s the examples of the ones from blood of zeus (from the main 3 godly children that were on screen, srs the others got nothing)

Apollo - kept Zeus from getting caught by Hera, probably preventing the conflict from happening earlier, and yet no thank you or nothing, not shocking Zeus is a dick. Saved Hermes from probable death from a dangerous job and got tossed into the fucking ocean, a sun god, in water. Poseidon being the better brother, and brought him to Olympus…….. Zeus said and did nothing, probably still pissy at Hera for shanking him in the neck. Probably deals with Hera being pissy he and the others are Zeus’s bastard children

Hermes - literally delivers all of his messages and findings on top of delivering souls to Charon, again, no appreciation. Definitely deals with Hera calling him a bastard child. Agreed to spy on Hera, who probably knew that was gonna happen, and nearly got killed (probably murder attempt) by Ares for it (thank you Apollo). Immediately ran up to Olympus, after that (possible) murder attempt to save Zeus’s ass from getting killed by Hera, he definitely would’ve got stabbed again. And bc it’s Zeus, no appreciation.

Ares - the punching bag of Zeus, ‘oh Hera found smth out must be Ares, let me throw a lighting bolt at him and find out’. No you idiot, Hera found out by herself and was already aware. Always on his mothers side because 1) his old man can’t keep it in his pants and 2) (hc) he probably had to deal with the aftermath of finding out her husband is a cheating dick each time.

Now Hephaestus was barely on but he’s clearly under appreciated, that mf Zeus was destroying his robots left and fucking right as a lesson, on the other hand his owl robot (forgot the name) is so fucking cute.

This is just the examples from BOZ, I liked the show overall but making Hera the antag and a jealous bitch was a bad choice. You could’ve made her the villain because her husband, who’s also her brother, fucking assaulted her and she married him to hide that fact. Also the fact her husband can’t keep his shriveled dick in his fucking chiton. :) fuck you Zeus.

[ladylunasblurbs]

smut ahead mdni

warnings: threesome, bondage, overstimulation, mommy kink, pet names (baby, darling, pet).

Hera and Zeus x reader

Imagine...

being sat in hera's lap with your legs spread being held apart with her own as she pumps her fingers in and out of your hole so fast you can barely catch your breath, becoming nothing more then a moaning mess in her lap, tears of pleasure streaming down your face as you near your fourth orgasm of the night. hera laughs almost wickedly as she tilts your head to the side and kisses away your tears, using her free hand to stroke your face. "shhh my pet, you are doing such a good job in helping me teach our horny king a lesson in patience" she smirks, turning her gaze over to zeus, who sat naked in a chair being held in place by hera's powers which were preventing him from releiving his aching cock. "arent they beautiful when theyre like this?" she smirks, pressing her fingers in that one spot that makes your toes curl in an act to draw more moans from you. bot hera and zeus had a mutual agreement that they would only sleep with you while the other one was there, atleast until zeus decided to break that rule after he felt the need to releive his stress after an argument with poseidon. needless to say once hera found out she was less then thrilled with her husband which is what landed you to where you were now. "hera please..." zeus groans, trying to squirm his way free from his wifes powers "you had your fun earlier, now it is my turn." she glares, rolling one of your nipples between her fingers" "m'close! hera- mommy-" you manage to gasp out before you came, clenching around hera's fingers and squirming in your lap as she helped you through your orgasm, stroking your sweaty hair as you fell back against her tiredly.. "thats a good pet" she praises, kissing your head before looking over to zeus, smirking down at his rock hard cock, watching another bead of precum leak from it. "i think that he has suffered enough, why dont you help him with his problem?" she says sweetly in your ear, you nod and crawl on shaky legs from the bed to zeus, kneeling between his legs with a tired look. hera walked behind you, resting her hand in your hair as she guided your mouth onto zeus's cock, helping you suck him off. zeus shamlessly moans, groaning and trying to buck his hips but being held down by heras powers. you make small gagging noises and whines as hera guides you up and down zeus's cock, smirking as she sees zeus's face heat up and his moans grow louder. she lets out a small laugh as she pulls you off of him by your hair, ruining his orgasm, he groans loudly as he cums, the white ropes spraying from his cock but him feeling no pleasure from it at all. hera smirks proudly at this, finally releasing him and leaving him to tired to even try for another orgasm. she uses her powers to carry you to the bed, laying down and pulling you to rest your head on her chest, stroking your hair and whispering soft praises while watching over your head as zeus grumbles while walking over to his side of the bed, trying to wrap his arm around you and hera but having it slapped away. "affection is only for good boys" she teases making him glare and flop back down. "it was truly what you did" he mumbles. "you wanted to finish and your did" she reminds him. "it is not my fault that you failed to enjoy it" she says, giving a subtle smirk before laying her head back against the pillows, resting one of her hands in your hair before falling asleep herself, leaving zeus to deal with his own problem.

[writingsofwesteros]

#Aemond hot thots

Aemond would be feared as a king, he’s very serious and mean unlike Aegon. Handmaidens and ladies are scurrying away at his presence, praying for his new wife, their sweet little queen. He only fucks her the first few moons they are married, never as much sparing an opportunity to talk or share a meal besides their wedding night. But he’d feel something very warm inside him when he sees the queen playing with his little boy and Hera. Sweet little babes were so quiet and reserved, it’s a fresh of breath air seeing them playing and enjoying themselves with the Queen. He very much appreciates how she has not casted aside his boy, a legitimatized bastard but his sweet babe. He’d be much more insatiable in bed, breeding his Queen and praising her for being so good to the little princess and prince. Kissing and pampering his queen once she’s swollen with his heir while the once timid kids are now babbling and hugging her belly.

ADORE THIS!

She is never alone; those two babes are by her side as she moves about her day and most of the time she sits in their lessons just for them to stay and learn.

The lovely Queen will sit there and embroidery all the time they are taught.

[polyhexianbirb]

According to Eustathius, Tiresias was a woman that basically did what Cassandra did, offered to fuck Apollo for music lessons, went back years later like "eh, I'm not into twinks", got turned into a twink, and then somehow became a woman again! Then she offends Hera who turns him into a man AGAIN only for Zeus to be like "nah, you look better as a woman", and change him back again.

Only then Tiresias thinks he wants to be a man, and the Muse's help with that, but then Aphrodite doesn't like that, so she turns him into a female, and then to rub salt into the wound she turns her into a mouse. Like imagine being Tiresias there. Woman, man, woman, man, woman, man, then WOMAN AGAIN, then mouse.

[angrygirlromero]

BASTARD LOVE, CHAPTER ONE

WARNING: grammar mistakes, violence, suggestive content! MDNI

It had almost been a year since Ares had visited Demitra, since then the daughter of Hera had spend her days helping and guiding young campers through their tasks and training hard in her sparring lessons with Clarisse. The Hera cabin was one of the biggest cabins at camp being detailed with fancy and skilled statues on the outside and beautiful and elegant details on the inside, Demitra sat on the large white couch that was displayed at the very center of the cabin, her smooth and soft fingers tangled in Luke's curly mess of hair as she twisted and curled locks of his dark hair between the tips of her fingers, her gaze every so focused on the boy that laid his head on her lap.

Her other free hand traced the scar on the side of the Hermes boy's face as she studied his handsome features, his eyes were held closed and the expression displayed of his face made him look at peace as he laid there. "Your fingers are so soft" mumbled Luke in his sleepy haze, his eyes still shut as a small chuckle erupted from Demitra's chest.

"You know, you should be in bed by now Councilor, you'd get in big trouble if they ever found you here at such a scandalous hour" teased the daughter of Hera, at her words the son of Hermes smirked his eyes opening slowly attempting to adjust to the dim light of the cabin, his dark orbs meeting her dark green ones, Luke Castellan had never though about having a favorite color before but from the moment he met Demitra all those years ago and she looked at him with such beautiful eyes, that very day he had deemed green to be his favorite color for the rest of his miserable demigod life.

His eyes scanned from her eyes to her perfect eyes brows, her perfect nose, to her perfect lips, his eyes danced upon her skin in amazement, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen" state Luke causing Demitra to blush a deep shade of red, Luke smiled softly raising his hand up to her flushed cheek, "you're even more beautiful when you smile, and blush" said Luke with an enamored look displayed on his handsome face, Aphrodite was most certainly at play at that moment and her brother's words echoed in her head as Luke held her face in his large hands, "And keep that Hermes boy close, he's quite infatuated with you, sister."

Demitra smiled shyly down at Luke as she rubbed the pads of her fingers over the rough stubble that had began growing out on the Hermes boy's chin, "This is new" stated Demitra tilting her head at the rough sensation on her fingers, Luke chuckling at her words "You like it?" asked the curious boy "I love everything about you Castellan" stated Demitra, passing on the opportunity to flush on to Luke.

Demitra let out a playful gasp at the sigh, "the almighty Luke Castellan is blushing?!" exclaimed the daughter of Hera, with a childish giggle. Luke stared at her with pure love in his dark eyes, "Only for you pretty girl" he said to which Demitra shook her head, "Always such a sweet talker" "I mean the things that I say" "I hope so."

As if on time Chris bursted into the cabin in a breathlessly state, the son of Hermes rested a hand on his leg and the other on the statue that stood tall and beautifully at the entrance of the cabin as he breathed out harshly, lifting his head slightly to the couple that now both stared at him Luke slowly sitting up from his comfortable position, confusion clearly evident on his face as he stared at his brother, "Chris? what's the matter?" questioned Luke.

And to the couple's amusement Chris raised his hand in the air that was once rested on his leg indicating that he needed a few more second to catch his breath, "Chi- Chiron, sent me- there's a new camper, he uhh" Chris paused between his breaths, "breath Chris" instructed Demitra lifting herself from the couch, she was calm as she approached the Hermes boy with Luke trailing closely behind her. As if on command a large gush of wind filled the air flowing through Chris lungs causing him to take a deep breath before calming down, now being able to stand up straight and tall to his fullest hight.

Chris smiled gratefully at Demitra, "Thanks Demi" he said to which the daughter of Hera responded with a bright smile, "As you were saying Chris" said Luke as he gave his brother a bored look as he flirted with his girl, "Oh yeah sorry for interrupting you guys, I wouldn't if I didn't have to, you see Chiron just randomly showed up at the Cabins searching for Councilors and they couldn't find you, so to save your asses I had to run all the way out here to get you, oh and Chiron wants you to take a look at the new kid, Demi" rambled Chris.

"So we should get going I'd say the kid was kind of attacked by a  Minotaur" explained Chris, "What?! why didn't you say that earlier are the Apollo kids there with him is he alive?" exclaimed Demitra as she rushed over to nightstand where the Morning Glory sat beautifully, "He's injured I've heard but he's fine he took out the Minotaur" said Chris as Demitra picked up the flower it glowed a deep blue before turning to gold in her palms, the daughter of Hera quickly placed the flower in her hair placing it on the right side near her ear, rushing back to the two boys that stood at the door staring at her in awe, "What are you waiting for?! a kid is in danger" she exclaimed once more before rushing out of the cabin grabbing her slippers at the doorway she rushed down the dirt path with the sons of Hermes rushing after her.

"Oh come on I just got here" complained Chris as jogged behind Demitra. Soon enough they had arrived to the big house where a group of Councilors stood out front having a deep discussion with Chiron as Mr D stood there with a bored expression, "Chiron what happened?" asked Demitra making her presence known, at the sound of her voice the group of demigods parted like the red sea allowing her to make her way to confront Chiron, "Demitra you're finally here, The boy fought a Minotaur, he was injured, but he has been taken care of, he's inside. Grover tells us that he only challenged the creature because it killed his mother, he'll need support not only from you but from all of you" stated Chiron, "We don't need to be babying this new kid" said Mr. D.

"He should be treated like every other kid here, not given special treatment because of his sob story" said Mr. D, " Dionysus there is no need-" Chiron was interrupted by Demitra "As the only god here and as a authority you should know better than to be speaking like that  Dionysus" said Demitra with a stern look upon her face, "Every camper here has their own story to tell of how they ended up here. And the cause of that sob story is always because of people like you, so do us all a favor and return to your chambers, Dionysus" said Demitra holding her head high to which Mr. D did nothing but tilt his head with a smirk on his face as he watched Luke and Chris stand to her right with serious expressions, and to her left Clarisse stood protectively as if challenging him.

"I guess I hit a soft spot didn't I?" he smirked before walking off "You're no fun little sis" said Dionysus before he turned in a teasing manner making his way back to bed, "I apologize for his childishness everyone, you all have you're own story to tell so for now we all have be as welcoming as possible to this new kid, just don't make it obvious, we don't want to make him feel even worse" instructed Demitra to which all the Councilors nodded agreeing with her statement, "You have nothing to appologize for Demi, Mr. D has always been an ass" stated Clarisse attempting to comfort her friend, "Language La Rue" scolded Chiron to which Clarisse lifted her hands in defeat.

"Now that everything has been established he will be incorporating into the Hermes Cabin by tomorrow until he is claimed" said Chiron "you're all dismissed, thank you for your assistance" he said before turning to return to the house the group of sleepy demigods were quick to return to their cabins, Clarisse mumbling a small goodnight to Demitra before leaving only Chris, Luke and Demitra remaining, Demitra's eyes scanned the group of demigods before she turned to the two boys that had already been looking at her.

Her gaze fell onto the door of the infirmary, "You guys head on back to bed I'm gonna check up on him before I head back, just to see what he'll need" said the daughter of Hera, to which Chris smiled softly "Always such a mother" he said before walking past the couple taking a second to rumple Demitra's hair in a playful manner, to which Luke only glared at his back.

"Go on I'll be fine" she said giving Luke a sleepy grin, causing him to only shake his head at her before he wrapped his arms around her resting his chin on the top of her head, "Goodnight pretty girl take care, I'll see you in the morning" he said as he planted a loving kiss to her forehead, "Goodnight Castellan, and take care those campers of yours, no more sneaking off" she instructed, "Your wish is my command" he said bowing playfully before he walked off to his cabin.

Demitra inhaled deeply before she turned around finally removing her eyes from Luke's figure, she opened the door of the infirmary and in the middle of the row of beds was a sleeping boy, he looked to be no older than 12 years old, his face was twisted to one of worry even in his sleep, he was so young and vulnerable and whoever his godly parent was had left him to fend for himself, the boy with dark blond hair and freckles on his adorable face, Demitra's heart hurt for the boy.

She could clearly recall the night she had been brought to camp by her Satyr protector she was scared, terrified, she had no idea what lied behind the barrier of camp but she could recall the fear that corrupted her that night as hundreds of monsters tried to kill her. She was around 13 when her Satyr had picked her up from the orphanage and from then on hell broke loose, she could recall the thunder storm that boomed that night as she stabbed and killed monsters for what felt like hours, the most painful part was knowing he was watching, he stood by and watched her almost die, yet he had done nothing.

Demitra shook away the tears forming in her eyes as she brushed some of the stray curls that fell into the boys face. She had heard that he had put up a good fight, maybe he was a Ares kid, she wasn't sure he didn't look much like him physically, but just by looking at him she could tell that his mother was a beauty. As if on timing Demitra heard the wood behind her screech out, "You're loosing your touch Beth, you use to be much sneakier, I'm disappointed" spoke Demitra as she stared down at the boy not bothering to make eye contact with the Athena girl who removed her cap revealing herself.

"I didn't get a good look at him, and my touch never left I wanted you to know I was here" said Annabeth as she tilted her head down to stare at the boy, and as if feeling the weight of their gaze the boy rustled in his sleep, "You drool in your sleep" stated Annabeth to the half awake boy, "You could be nicer to him you know, he seems close to your age he might open up to you more" suggested Demitra, "Besides if I were your age and a cute guy made such and entrance at camp I would've been his friend in the matter of minutes" said Demitra with a playful tone.

Annabeth shook her head at her words, "Don't let Luke hear you, besides I'm not like you. I don't make friend so easily, and with the entrance he just had at camp he'll have a lot on his plate" said Annabeth keeping her gaze on the boy, "you never know what the gods have in store for us" said Demitra before turning on her heels to leave, "I'm gonna be here early tomorrow morning to bring him some stuff that he might need, Luke's gonna help me with the tour, you're welcome to join us" said Demitra, to which Annabeth only sighed not removing her gaze from the boy, "I'd rather not" "let me know if you change your mind little one" she said before leaving.

⚡︎

a/n: so I'm starting a tag list for this series, feel free to comment and let me know if you'd like to added, if you have any mean comments please I ask you not to read and refrain yourself from commenting, if you have any questions or suggestions for this series feel free to message me I am always opened to new ideas or suggestions, this story is following mostly the tv series so if things don't match the book that might be why, and lastly I would like to apologize for any grammar errors in my writing, I hope you enjoy thank you for the support.

Tag list: @puppygirlstar @cecilla @random-girls-loves @purplerose291

BASTAR LOVE MASTERLIST

GENERAL MASTERLIST

[therapybard]

Athena Sibling Headcanons

Note: I'm far from an expert on Greek mythology, so most of this is vibes based. I am also going off the headcanon that Athena is the oldest

Apollo: They both have a lot of respect for each other, but they don't talk much. Apollo looked up to Athena when he was younger. That faded as he grew up and got tired of her no-nonsense attitude. He's all about finding a healthy work-life balance and Athena... isn't. He loves her handicrafts but the way she talks about it puts a bad taste in his mouth. She acts like it's inherently less worthy than her other domains and only engages in it as a favor to others. As if art has no worth besides utility. He also doesn't like how Athena talks about wounds and punishments, mostly when Zeus punishes one of the gods. Athena thinks some pain should remain as a lesson, while Apollo can't resist the urge to heal everything, no matter what caused the injury.

Artemis: Artemis is one of the two Olympians that would call Athena a friend, even if Athena's pride wouldn't let her say the same. They've had a lot to bond over. You'd think it'd mostly be female warrior stuff, but most of their talks are like "Everyone else in this stupid family is so obsessed with sex what's wrong with them get me out of here". As Artemis started drifting away from the family, she tried to encourage Athena to do the same. She knew how dissatisfied she was under Zeus's thumb. Athena refused, reminding Artemis not to neglect her duties. This drove a wedge between them that has yet to fully heal. Even so, they speak to each other often and always seek the other out at social gatherings.

Aphrodite: Athena, contrary to popular opinion, respects and appreciates Aphrodite's domains. Love is a very important force in the world and is clearly very powerful. It just isn't for her. No just romantic love, but attachments in general have never worked out for her. She prefers clear, transactional relationships. It's safer. Aphrodite resents Athena for this. No matter how much Athena insists she respects Aphrodite, words have never meant anything to her. Aphrodite values actions, provable passion. Athena, in her eyes, has no passion whatsoever. She's just their father's living weapon, ready to do his bidding at a moment's notice. Aphrodite can't understand her and has given up trying.

Ares: WAR SIBLINGS!!!! Okay, I know I know, most depictions put them at odds. That's all well and good, and I like that to an extent, but they certainly don't hate each other. They bicker and complain and put each other down, but they know they're both necessary. I've always interpreted Athena as representing generals while Ares represents the soldiers. Athena thinks Ares is too small-minded and bloodthirsty. Ares thinks Athena is dishonorable and passionless. He hates trickery and fully believes in a "might makes right" approach to warfare. Athena just sees war as a means to an end, hopefully a peaceful one.

Dionysus: Athena mostly ignores Dionysus. He's got his own thing going on and it's... fine, but it has nothing to do with her. Whatever. Dionysus, on the other hand, hates Athena. In an arch enemy sort of way. He doesn't actively want to harm Athena, but he hates everything she stands for. She's always serious, says wine 'distorts the mind' too much for her liking, considers dancing a waste of time, and NEVER goes to his parties. The audacity...

Hephaestus: (note: I like the version of his story where he's just Hera's child so maybe he should be here, but come on. He should be here.) Athena's other friend! He's probably the god Athena talks to most often, even more than Zeus. They're both the introverts of a family. Everyone else is just so loud and chaotic. When things are overwhelming, they'll often go to each other and craft/forge in silence. Despite her obsession with utility and efficiency, she's the only Olympian besides Hestia that never pushed Hephaestus to 'fix' his disability. She accepted him as he was, and helped him a lot when he finally decided to work on a metal leg. While their other siblings consider Athena cold and emotionless, Hephaestus knows appearances aren't everything. So what if she doesn't show her love the way everyone else does? He knows she's a good person at her core.

Hermes: Hermes is the only Olympian that works as hard as Athena does, granting him her infinite respect. They share a love of speed and efficiency. Though they have almost nothing else in common, it's enough for them both. While she isn't a huge fan of mischief, she can admire the thought that goes into his pranks. He's intelligent and Athena knows it. She just wishes he always put his energy to better use. Hermes, similarly, likes Athena. They aren't friends, and he's more than willing to smack talk her with their siblings, but he knows how hard she works and respects that. He helps keep people away when Athena's busy, and she lets him hide in her palace when he takes a prank too far.

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

The Impact of Tech's Death: Was it necessary? Was it in vain? Why did Tech have to die?

Disclaimer: This will be a very emotion fueled rant and I'm sorry if my personal feelings get in the way. I love my boys, but there are times when I just sit there and shake my head. I do my best to understand their circumstances, but sometimes the Crosshair girlie in me really can't make sense of things.

The short answer: NO, it wasn't necessary. With S3 now behind us and my rewatch of S2 at its conclusion, it hit me just how little weight Tech's death had on the overall plot.

Let's breakdown the finale a bit:

The lead up: Tech found out that his long-lost brother Crosshair was captured by the Empire and sent to a shady place where no good was to come. He also discovers that Crosshair sent a distress message, warning his brothers to hide. Realizing that Crosshair was in danger, Tech decided to rally the others on a mission to find and track Hemlock's ship, hoping it would lead him back to his brother. The mission is a complete failure, with Tech being forced to sacrifice himself in order to save his family.

The Aftermath: the Batch is discovered by Hemlock, Omega is captured, Hunter cuts his losses, and Crosshair remains a prisoner

Here's the part that really messed with me: Tech's death DID NOT affect Hemlock's capture of Omega and it DID NOT change the ability to track the ship. The only impact it had was that Hunter decided to cut his losses and pull an early retirement. And even when Hunter is like "we're going to get Omega back," he doesn't mention Crosshair once.

Tech died to save Crosshair. Period.

(and the others I know, but this mission wouldn't have happened if Cross wasn't in trouble)

Which brings us to S3 where Tech is hardly mentioned, Crosshair himself is never shown on-screen learning of what happened, and there is no moment where anyone (except maybe Cross) processes their feelings about it. Why kill off a beloved character when their demise has almost no impact on anything? The only thing it really impacts is the speed of which things get done and Crosshair's mental health. It makes no sense. I think there was an interview where DBB said they tried to keep Tech alive, but couldn't write a script where that was the case. Ok? Then go back and talk some more about the plot. Or if you can't avoid killing him off, then show the characters processing it or why Tech's death mattered. The cynical side of me says Tech died in vain. I'm being brutally honest here. Tech could've survived and Cid would still sell out the Batch and Saw's detonators would still destroy the ship and tracker. From a story POV, it's pretty bad when a main character's death barely leaves an impact.

In CW, Fives' death enabled Rex and Ahsoka (and Maul by extension) to all survive Order 66. Satine's death led to Mandalore being thrown into chaos, thus leading to the Siege of Mandalore.

In Rebels, Kanan's death crippled Thrawn's Tie-defender project, made Pryce look bad, and taught Ezra important lessons about sacrifice. For Hera, we got to see her grieve the loss of her lover. Kanan's death mattered. Also, the buildup to Kanan's sacrifice was him becoming Caleb Dume again after everything he went through.

The buildup to Tech's death was great too because it was about the Batch trying to find Crosshair. And while the mission is a failure, it showed that they were willing to go back for someone they lost. They hadn't given up on him. But everything after falls pretty flat and only makes Tech's death even sadder.

Why did Tech have to die? Because he probably would've found Tantiss a lot quicker than everyone else. I really think that's the case and that's pretty bad writing if you ask me. I still love TBB immensely, but I'm willing to call it out when it falls short.

It also really pisses me off as a Crosshair fan that Hunter just completely throws him under the bus. I will let my biases speak for me because it really bothers me and I'm sorry if you disagree. I value your opinion too. I don't know if Hunter subconsciously blamed Crosshair for Tech's demise, but I would've felt a whole lot better if he decided to honor Tech's wish of saving him. Hunter was always going to go after Omega, so why not add Crosshair to the mix? Was it because he still thought Crosshair could be lying? I understand cutting his losses in the moment due to the pain of losing Tech. I get that 100%. But after, he just doesn't bother to think about Crosshair. Would he even have gone after Crosshair if the original last-minute retirement plan came to fruition? Crosshair suffered immensely and who knows what would've happened if he just got left there with no one coming for him. Tech was the only one who supported Operation: Rescue Crosshair. No one else suggested that idea except him. (I know Omega also supports it, but I'm talking about the boys). Yes, I know I'm being harsh and perhaps unfair, but it hurts ok? I know Hunter has no clue what's going on with Crosshair.

But here's why it bothers me so much outside of Crosshair getting the short end of the stick again: It makes Tech's death feel even more in vain because the reason for why Tech died is just forgotten about.

Let that sink in. Tech's death doesn't leave ANY lasting impact on the plot post-incident.

It makes even more frustrated and just heartbroken because of how cruel and unfair losing Tech really was. Had we gotten more time of the Batch processing emotions or taking something meaningful away from it, then that's different. But no. That's not what we got and I am heartbroken by it. At minimum, we should've gotten one scene in S3 where Crosshair (or anyone really) talks about it in a meaningful way. (No, "CF99 died with Tech" doesn't count). Yes, Tech's legacy can be seen through Omega's actions but that's not enough.

All and all, the only real weight Tech's death had was on Crosshair's mental health. And even then, it's only implied instead of said straight out. If Tech hadn't died, then Crosshair probably wouldn't have decided to enact Plan 99. (Or he would've due to other reasons).

In conclusion: Tech never had to die nor should he have died.