#i think of this a lot. his lies are so bad the only reason he gets away w lies as clark kent is cuz how he built
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Hiii spotty đđđ
đ + dawn/sunrise
-â€ïžđȘ
Hi Saturn, managed to use both words here and it got a little longer at nearly 1k. A little angsty but not too bad. Hope you enjoy. Thank for inspiring me.
âWondered where you went.â
A quick glance over his shoulder reveals that Hen has that kind of look on her face. Buck looks away quickly, heâs not ready to talk but she already knows that, sheâs Hen after all.
The unpleasant scrape of metal on concrete makes him wince as Hen settles down in one of the chairs they use up here. Itâs clear she intends to wait him out.
âDonât worry, no one else is gonna join us.â
Thatâs not the comfort she thinks it is because it only emphasises who isnât going to be checking on him and they both know why he canât and that if he could he wouldnât need checking up on in the first place. Ironic huh.
The edge of the weather beaten brick beneath his fingers is rough and catches at his skin. The texture and prickle of pain gives him something to focus on other than the reason heâs hiding up here.
âBobby says come down when youâre ready, but that you donât have to be ready anytime soon, he said itâs ok to take a minute, it was a rough call.â
It was.
âEddie said youâd be up here, told me to tell you heâd be here as soon as Chim is done with him, we thought, well he thought I should keep you company until he can.
How considerate of him. Deliberately relaxing his suddenly tense jaw and dropping his shoulders Buck breathes through the surge of anger Eddie sending Hen to check up on him generates. Hen wouldnât need to be keeping him company if the company he should have after a call hadnât been so fucking stupid that he needed a full check up and time to convince Chim and Bobby that a trip to the hospital wasnât required.
âIâm fine.â
He canât look at her while he lies, not that it matters much, Hen wonât believe him anyway, hell he doesnât believe him and sheâs a lot smarter than he is.
He hears her snort of amusement and she doesnât even try to hide the sacrasam in her voice,
âOh I can tell. Totally fine.â
Eyes fixed firmly on what little of the horizon he can see through the LA skyline, the changing quality of light makes it clear that sunrise is just around the corner, a new day is beckoning. Itâs a new day that might not have had Eddie in it.
He shuts his eyes but thatâs no help because he just sees it all again. The chain of events that rushed past him and led to the accident.
âHowâs he doing?â
Addressing the question to the air he doesnât need to see her face to know what expression is on it.
âItâs not actually as bad as it looked, most of the blood wasnât even his.â
The words spark another memory and he uses techniques heâs been taught to fight off a fierce wave of nausea. He changes the subject. Itâs easier that way.
âI like it up here. Itâs quiet. Sometimes I come up and watch the sunrise when I canât sleep.â
She lets him have a moment of peace then breaks it.
âHe didnât mean to scare anyone, especially you, you know that right?â
He keeps his eyes on the approaching dawn and stays quiet.
âItâs our job. You know that too.â
It is. He does. Doesnât make it any easier.
âYouâve done the same. Worse even.â
Also true. Also unhelpful. He knows how to spell hypocrite with only four letters without her help.
âItâs going to be hard, you both knew that, but itâll be harder if youâre not there when it matters. I know that much.â
Her words hit him hard. What if he hadnât been there. What if they had moved to different shifts or worse stations. What if heâd heard about it later and it hadnât worked out as well as it had. What if heâd always have to wonder if he could have saved his husband if heâd been there.
Well he was there and heâd stayed calm even if heâd been more terrified than heâd ever been. Heâd done what they promised Bobby theyâd do. Their job. Heâd listened to his Captain, followed his commands. Heâd done exactly what Bobby had said. Heâd helped get Eddie out of the mess he was in.
It becomes a little easier to breathe.
âCap says you handled it well. Did your job. Heâs proud of you.â
âIâm proud of you too.â
He turns his back on the sunrise because itâs not Henâs voice this time. His eyes fall on the grazes on his cheek, the deeper cut on his forehead that Chim has treated. He notes every one of the bruises forming on the skin thatâs visible and knows there will be more under his clothes that heâll check later. He looks tired and worried and heâs still far more beautiful than any dawn Buck has ever seen.
Henâs vanished. Itâs just him and his husband, dealing with the aftermath of their first real trauma since they got together.
âAm I forgiven?â
He doesnât answer just crosses the rooftop to him as fast as he can and holds on, probably too tightly judging by the small sound he makes but Eddie hugs back just as tightly regardless.
âYou did your job. Nothing to forgive.â
Eddie kisses his cheek softly, the tension in him vanishing. He sounds relieved.
âSo did you, Iâm glad you were there.â
Heâs not ready to let go yet, and Eddie understands that, so they stay there a while longer, holding each other both remembering the day they shook hands and agreed they could maybe have each other's back.
Today wasnât the first time they kept that promise and it wonât be the last, it will be hard for them both but they belong beside each other and Buck wouldnât have it any other way. No matter the cost.
#buddie#eddie diaz#evan buckley#Spottys trick or treating#in box trick or treating#buddie fic#911 abc#911 fic#911fic
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When you're one of the most selfish mc who only saves people because it's part of a job you never wanted and did not get to chose or you would've died, who took your co-workers' morals and ideals because you didn't have any and desperately wanted to fit in somewhere, be it with the heroes or the villains, who's activelly haunted by one the most tragic past to have been created and suffer from a psychosis so bad (dare I say schizophrenia) that even your enemies acknowledged that you are mentally ill and objectively flawed in your judgement, never hesitated to try to kill anyone and has the most egoistic reason to be a good person but the fandom still thinks you're just a kind crybaby "I don't know what a gun is" homosexual twink.
#him being refered as an angel by Shibuzawa is FUCKING IRONIC !!#ASAGIRI IS ALWAYS IRONIC WHEN IT COMES TO LIGHT NOVELS CENTERED AROUND ATSUSHI#Ex : The plot of 55min being parallele to the Decay of Angels arc#He's also called the Man-eating tiger and yes I do think that Dazai lied to him when he said he never ate anyone to preserve his psyche#and was also called âthe man who can see the futureâ and has time travelled with Akutagawa like why aren't we talking about that#his relationship with Mori is also actually good#Mori is one if not the only character who saved and helped Atsushi during their first meeting and kept good contacts with him#because yes Atsushi has seen Mori knowing that he was the pm boss off-screen and they had a normal exchange#I also think that Shibuzawa Atsushi and Fyodor are connected to a form of Holy Trinity#Believer/God/Angel or Messenger#Joseph/Jesus/Mary#or Fyodor and Atsushi as Jesus and Judas#but the instance of trinity in bsd are dare I say extreme#Oda/Ango/Dazai#Sigma/Fyodor/Nikolai#Atsushi/Akutagawa/Kyoka#and so on#and the whole situation around his ability which is unlike any other#It turns him into Byakko (her own being) (similar to Natsume) and nullify his wounds no matter how lethal (similar to Dazai and Yosano)#and enhance him even with his ability off making him constantly stronger than other characters and dare I say equal to the hunting dogs#yk the MODIFIED humans#and the plot of both 55mins and Dead Apple being around abilities and giving us Atsushi lore make me think that Atsushi and Byakko are 1/2#probably a sort of higher being since some abilities are very religious centered (how Fyodor sees abilities and Shibuzawa) 2/2#but I think it would lend toward a âsinnerâ position which would be crazy because that Atsushi would then probably be the reason why Fyodor#hates abilities so much if Atsushi and Byakko are somehow be connected to the âsinâ of abilities#and so you guys know Atsushi's orphanage was a church so yes he's related to christianity#and the Decay of Angels is LITTERALY full of religious people to different degrees#and it would be ironic (once again) if the antagonists were the âAngelsâ and the protagonist a demon#I just realized that I did a lot of typos sorry I got too excited#but yeah keep calling bsd bad written (we're on barely chap.115 no good manga was finished by chap.115 guys just wait for the rest to drop)
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clark is not a good liar, but he is great at keeping secrets and can be described as secretive by lois...
#i think of this a lot. his lies are so bad the only reason he gets away w lies as clark kent is cuz how he built#clark ken.ts reliability ( his human person is meant to be percieved as flighty. flakey. )#but when it comes to secrets such as his identity. being supe.rman. his true feelings..HE IS A PROFESSIONAL AT HIDING IT#clark was raised to hide who he truly is and what he is capable of. in fact he is so conscience of not giving anyone any signals due to the#he has to keep track of everything he does. such as having to pretend to be weak. having to give way when being shoved like a human#pretending to be tired when he jogs by panting. conscience that he has to say ow when he falls#basically clark is extremely aware of how to not give anything away that he is so good at being secretive#and sometimes this DOES awfully effecti his relationships#example one: he was too scared to tell lois he was superman even if he was dating her ( in some iterations ) so he prolonged it...#example 2: lois once called off their engagment because clark never mentioned he had once been engaged to a woman he had been#hanging out with again ( completely platonic btw ) but in clarks head hes like#just so good at not mentioning things since he thinks it doesnt matter to be mentioned if itll add strain?#idk hes weird like hes an honest man he wont lie to you but hes justa professiona secret keeper on a subconscious level atp#also i welcome muses confronting him on his secretive nature. its not healthy sometimes ngl#â man of steel . â âč glasses on ... â€ș out. âș
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Striking reading Embassytown immediately after Don Quixote because whilst you wouldn't usually compare sci-fi (published 2011) to a parody of the chivalric romance genre (final part published 1615) they are nevertheless strikingly similar
#like embassytown is about language: who controls communication; truth vs lies vs metaphors vs similes; what if there were no such thing as a#Concept You Had No Words For (Yet) what if you could only experience what you said#don quixote is about a guy who's a bit cringe and gets beaten up a lot#but they are also both about stories and communication#don quixote goes on his adventures because he reads too much and thinks them real - the narrator frequently refers to The True And Real#History of Don Quixote even though what we're reading is no more real than what he read and believed to be true#embassytown's plot hinges on lies but also I think the question How can we communicate across the vast differences between us#and even as the characters begin to lie so does the narrator (or at least finds herself struggling to tell the truth)#Cervantes - through Cide Hamete Benengeli - complains at the start of part 2 at how someone took his story away from him; wrote a second pa#Embassytown's narrator 'admit[s] defeat. [...] Perhaps because I didn't pay proper attention perhaps because it wasn't a narrative but for#whatever reasons it doesn't want to be what I want to make it'#Benegali tells us 'no [story]* can be bad so long as it is true' Avice says 'This is a true story I'm telling but I am telling it and that#entails certain things'#Do You Kinda See My Point. it's about how we tell stories to each other and how we communicate the non-real#*many translators translate 'historia' as 'history'. discuss amongst yourselves what impact that makes vs its other meaning of 'story'#I don't actually know how much sense I'm making; I'm tired and I'm just rambling in the tags#but like it's cool
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just to add:
Using Poe rather than any other Dark Romantic writer that was his contemporary to pull a quote from was such a good choice. Of his sotries, "The Tell-Tale Heart" was the perfect one for Astarion, but Poe very specifically believed stories should be written in a circular manner - like a snake biting its tail - which fits so perfectly with all the little ways Astarion's story and romance references itself.
Direct quote from my source:
Poe believed in âfashioning a tale like a kind of ouroboros, with its tail in its mouth, beginning with the final effect and working backwards to that the storyâs beginning is a natural derivation of its conclusion.â
It's the setting up of the Romantic Astarion in act 1, finding out he's not as fine as he keeps insisting as the narrative swings into Dark Romantic territory, the paranoia starts to really come out (relating back to tell-tale heart), and then he is literally given a choice: continue the cycle or break free. The cycle of abuse is literally a circle here. He can take up Cazador's place in the ritual and step into his role entirely, reentering the ouroboros I mentioned earlier.
The "Thank you" when he first bites the player being referenced later when they see past his paranoia and how unreliable of a narrator he is about his own feelings and seeing that he doesn't want power. He wants safety in a world that he believes isn't capable of kindness or good.
I love how Astarion quotes The Tell-Tale Heart every once in a while. It's a rarer line, and initially I thought it was out of place (Neil is very well versed in theater, so I assumed it was a riff from him), but since reading an analysis of the work I think it was pretty purposeful.
The piece is all about fear and paranoia, things we know Astarion is plagued by despite how he might act. Similarly, the narrator of the story also tries to convince the reader that they are not as troubled as they seem. In the end, the narrator is consumed by the beating of the heart of the old man he killed and dismembered, the sound growing louder and louder until in a fit of rage he reveals the body to the police to absolve himself from the persistent beating.
Except the police never heard the heart beat, because it wasn't the old man's heart at all. The narrator was consumed by the sound of his own heart beating more and more rapidly in his chest from fear. He was the owner of the thing that forced him to reveal his true nature, he is the owner of the tell-tale heart.
And what happens with Astarion after you romance him? He realizes over time that, while he tried to deny his feelings and was initially only interested in manipulating you for his own means, he actually has grown to care for you. You have done something to his heart that hasn't happened in centuries, you have made it feel as if it has started beating again.
Therefore, his tell-tale heart leads him to admit his transgressions, which were committed out of fear and paranoia for his safety.
So the line is actually very, very apt. His confession during Act 2 is his own version of "Villains! Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!" Except, of course, it is his own heart that he is unearthing for us (and it's not so hideous, after all).
#this got my brain churning as someone who studied Poe's writing techniques and stuff#i did an intense study of his writing style back when i was in college lol#i'm so sorry if this derailed a bit#i was gonna make my own post but this was the one that got me thinking so#here i am#i literally saw this at like 6:50 am so my thoughts aren't as full as i'd like#but i wanted to add this bc i've been thinking about it a lot for the reasons i stated above lol#my writing style is very heavily influenced by poe due to how much i've researched him for analytical papers & for mimicking his style#i also think some of his more difficult writing may come back to like#he feels like a poe pastiche thrown into a video game#and all his difficult convo trees where you get no information?#astarion is an unreliable narrator of his own story#he doesn't WANT the truth out there#they also very well could have chosen like#the black cat or one of his poems#but tell-tale heart very specifically has to do with the paranoia that causes you to hurt people who never hurt you#the only thing the old man did was stare with that vulture eye#i also have Thoughts about how Astarion's story is a Dark Romantic Gothic Horror#but one that ends on a good note OR can end with him back in the cycle of abuse#and his good end rejects the pessimism that comes with dark romanticism#while also seeing the world not as perfectly good#but finding hope that in spite of the bad parts of life#the good outweigh the bad and make it worth lowering your defenses and truly living#or else be trapped by paranoia and fear for eternity#he has other things that are repeated in ways i don't see the same like#thread of connection through in other companion romances#for example if you ascend him he uses the âi love youâ line#same tone as when he used it before while trying to convince LI to sleep with him a second night#and the fact that the cycle he's in now is just a reflection of what cazador and vellioth did#the family abuse cycle that traps and destroys
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I think what's so interesting about Gideon as a narrator at the anniversary dinner is the fact that there's clearly tensions that she's just not picking up on because she's only there to eat a dessert.
But these people are all the immensely powerful leaders of the Houses and consider themselves to be in competition for literal godlike powers and the favour of the emperor.
There's so many little snippets that are potentially intriguing: why is Teacher trying to prime the Ninth to consider the Fifth a threat? Why are the Third and the Sixth "sizing each other up like prizefighters"? The Fifth absolutely knew what they were doing when they sat the teen heads of the opposing cults near each other.
Through Gideon's lens, Magnus' speech is a little awkward jokey thing. But...the seneschal of the House that is known to be actively trying to absorb another House is saying it's such a shame they're all so remote from each other and what do they all have in common (and it's so quiet you "could have heard a hair flutter to the floor") - that had to feel a bit different to people who aren't Gideon.
Palamedes' is dissecting the meaning of "Master Warden" and at one point compares it to a prison warden. 'Dulcinea' asking about whether Magnus and Abigail have children is perhaps less small talk and rather more pointedly political. Harrow's apparently stilted conversation with Protesilaus is clearly her actually probing his limitations like he's a bad Chat GPT-run chatbot.
And then 'Dulcinea' tells Gideon she liked the dinner because it was "useful". In her typical "I never lied to you" way, Cyth wasn't lying when she said Abigail had to die because of her hobby - Abigail Pent let loose on the Facility would have risked blowing Cyth's cover sky high. But what does a Canaan House look like where after the dinner party, the Fifth go down to the facility, get a key, and survive to continue their 'the Houses are going to get along or else' agenda? We've seen Fifth House soft power on a smaller scale in HTN: and it looks like inviting a teenager round for coffee, lulling her into a false sense of security with small talk, and then physically preventing her from leaving the room until she does what you want, while smiling the entire time. A series of little coffee chats could probably have led to a lot of cooperation in Canaan House, one way or another.
Gideon jokes about Silas marrying Ianthe because of their similar colour pallete, but it does raise the fact that there seems to be some tension around the Third, its succession, and the *point* of Ianthe. Why is Silas openly saying Ianthe should have died at birth? Combined with Judith's comments in the Cohort Intelligence Files about succession on the Third, it feels like there's something else being said here that Gideon isn't picking up on.
And of course, Harrow wasn't the only one desperate to become a Lyctor because her con was unsustainable. Presumably at some point Corona and Ianthe would be expected to marry, or at least take on more separate roles as Corona prepared to take over the throne and Ianthe was funneled off elsewhere. At some point, their package deal would have become unsustainable and Corona's cover would have been blown. But much as Harrow wants to become a Lyctor so she can reveal the state of the Ninth without repercussions, Ianthe is probably in part motivated to become a Lyctor for the same reason. Because otherwise, what would Ianthe's expected role have been? Amidst the suggestion of anxiety about the Idan succession, the dinner party also presents the fact that the reason Abigail and Magnus' infertility isn't a succession crisis for the ruling family of the Fifth is that Abigail's younger brother dutifully married in his early 20s and had kids. We know there are branch families in Ida - Babs is from one. He may be a prince, but he's not treated well, and you do get the sense that the stakes to stay in power in Ida are high.
We don't learn anything about the political situation in the Houses themselves during HTN or NTN, but in the wake of Canaan House, you have to suspect there are a number of tensions and concerns.
#the locked tomb#tlt meta#Is Ianthe's ïżœïżœgoing to see a man about a queenâ seeing to the political situation back home in Ida?#Which must have been devastated by her ascension and Corona's apparent death?
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Iâve been forced into reading Danny phantom fanfics because Iâm desperate for Billy Batson content and for some reason half the stuff on ao3 is crossover stuff so I guess I like Danny phantom now?? Kind of?? I havenât watched it and I donât plan on it but I really like the idea of it.
Anywho,
Billy has maintained a very delicate balance of half truths and lies of ommision over the years to protect his identity as a literal child. He uses facts he learned from his patrons and his interest and knowledge in history, specifically Ancient Greece, to convince people heâs ancient.
Then one day this ghost guy joins the league claiming to be incredibly old as well except he just goes around straight up lying about stuff, saying whatever the hell he feels like about the past if itâs convenient to him or just funny. Most of it contradicts with the story Billy has been delicately weaving over the years and heâs kind of panicking.
One day he confronts the ghost guy and is like âI know your not actually ancient but Iâm not a snitch, how old are you?â
And Danny kind of feels bad about pretending to be ancient in front of someone who has literally been around since at least Ancient Greece and confesses that heâs 14. Captain Marvel stares at him for a few minutes before breaking out in a big grin and transforming into a 12 year old Billy. They instantly become inseparable.
Youâd think that Billy would ask Danny to stop lying all the time because itâs gonna get them caught, but no, he thinks itâs hilarious. Now whenever Danny says something absurd or directly contradictory of the actual history that Billy told them, theyâre just like âoh yeah both of those happened at the same time but all the scribes were at the same spot so no one wrote about the other one and it was lost to timeâ or âthere was a time loop for a good few years back in good old Greece so a lot of weird things happened that just didnât stick.â Or âthat did happen but only ghosts could perceive it.â Or sometimes, if they absolutely cannot get away with any other explanation, âdang must have dreamt it!â
The league is hopelessly confused and 90% sure theyâre being messed with but they have no proof and if they look at the history at least MOST of the stuff they say is true so thereâs really no reason to doubt it when Danny claims he once fist fought the god of time while the entirety of Rome cheered for him and placed bets, especially when Billy nods sagely and says he remembers having to clean up the space time continuum after the fight and that he lost the modern equivalent of ten bucks in the bet (he still doesnât lie, just doesnât disagree with the blatant dishonesty. He honestly did have to clean up the space time continuum multiple times after Danny messes with time a bit too much thanks to Clockwork + shenanigans. They make bets all the time too lol)
I think the contrast between ânever liesâ and âlies all the time for funsiesâ with the same motivation of âdo the funniest thing possible at all timesâ can be extremely entertaining and interesting.
#billy batson#shazam#dc captain marvel#dc#fanfiction#justice league#fanfic#danny phantom#danny fenton#crossover#dc x dp#My writing
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Hello hello! I am still absolutely obsessed with the "Fire" fic you wrote. You are such a talented writer omg, the storytelling, the humour, everything!
So I thought, I have an idea for a funny fic and I'm just gonna send it in LOL I remember Lando saying in an interview that he's really scared when he's the passenger. So what if his GF is speeding all the time and Lando is just internally freaking out and sweating while trying to keep his cool next to her?
Just an idea, if you don't wanna write it that's fine too (:
omg omg omg thank you so much! i'm blushing and i'm scared - hopefully you'll like this one! i added a detail that might be little over the top - but who knows? not me anymore.
I'll drive
"You have a car?!" Lando uttered, forgetting any table manners, the food he had been chewing nearly falling out of his mouth.
Y/N was dead silent, the look on her face strongly resembling a child who lied about cleaning their room and just blushed every toy under their bed.
Her boyfriend gave her a cheeky questioning look, and when it finally set in - the fact she had been hiding the existence of her car from him - he was truly stunned and somewhat amused.
"So, wait. You know how to drive?! Why am I always taking you places?" he asked rhetorically, never actually being bothered by that, but still.
"I don't know how to drive-" she tried before getting interrupted by her father.
"Of course she does, I taught her myself," the jolly man said and patted her on her back with a proud smile. Y/N's face got washed with crocked smile, as if she swallowed something truly detestable.
"No, I do not know how to drive-"
"Nonsense, she's alway been so hard on herself," he father continued. Y/N just sighed.
The young couple came to visit her hometown for the first time. It was lot of reminescing of old times and her school days - a context that Lando very much appreaciated. He had met her as a grown up woman, but that weekend, he witnessed many amusing moments and heard lots of stories that only childhood small towns hold. What did he love the most about this experience? The fact there was nothing for her to do to stop it, no matter how much she frowned. Influx of surprising moments, but this discovery topping all of them.
She saw Lando's perplexed face and tried to save the situation. "I never lied to you, technically you never asked...I just figured you like driving so much, why bother, especially if I am so bad at it..."
Lando was not having it. "Oh, you're not getting easily out of this one," he replied, biting his lower lip, actively having to remind himself of the fact her family was right there. There was something innately attractive about her being so raw and pushed into a corner. Just pure cuteness. "I'm sure you're not half as bad as majority of the people out there," he said, new plans forming in his head. "I think you and I should take her for a spin," he said, referring to the car, and hid his smile behind a glass. Her eyes were piercing his with an energy so intense, it was electrifying.
"No, Lando, I am not driving while you're in the same car," she stated firmly, not breaking the eye contact.
"Come one, sweetheart, it'll be fun," he said, honey dripping out of his mouth.
"It will be anything but that," she said, but Lando ignored that, turning into her father for more information.
"So what kind of a car it?"
The rest of the conversation continued in description of a car Y/N herself could only describe as red, her father telling a story about how he got it for his daughter and how she actually barely ever drove it, which apparently broke his heart.
//
Let's not forget, this was Lando - of course he had ulterior motives. While it was great, spending few wholesome days in the company of his girlfriends family, his frustration grew, because for some reason, she refused to have any intimate activities in her family's house. Why, he had no idea. But of course, he respected that.
She never mentioned anything about not having some nice outdoor sex in a car. He wanted to see her drive and also ride. His perfect afternoon.
Lando is not the best of passengers, often uneasy about the common mistakes casual drivers made. Taking over the wheel is a natural thing for him to do. But, this was an exception he was excited to make - how bad could it be, right? He learned the hard way not to ask that question again.
//
"You sure you don't want to switch places?" she asked, once again, doing everything she could to get out of this.
"Nope babe, passenger seat is the vibe for me today," he smirked, making himself overly comfortable sitting next to her.
She raised her eyebrows. "Here goes nothing, I guess," she murmured and put the keys into ignition.
Lando found it amusing, seeing her so hyper-focused, as if she was launching a rocket ship. To be fair, it was a manual car - so it was close.
Three deep breaths - I fucking hate this, she thought, turned the key and released the clutch. When the car immediately jumped, Lando regretted sitting in his usual obscure way, his head hitting the door with quite a loud bump.
"Told ya," she said and started the car again. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't possibly sell her mistake as an intention.
"You released the clutch too soon," he said while assessing the bump forming on his head.
"Do not give me advice when I drive, makes me angry," she announced and this time actually managed to start the car in a semi-ok way.
Lando watched his bubbly, happy-go-lucky, girlfriend turn into a monster and there was nothing for him to do to stop it.
Everything was somewhat fine when they were still on the quiet roads surrounding her neighborhood. She stopped on the way to the main road, watching two cars that were comically far away and letting them pass. They didn't have to say anything, both knew what the other one was thinking. Y/N knew there was plenty of time for her to join the road before those cars, but the lack of trust in her own abilities was making her wait stubbornly. Lando watched the scenery, amused and starting to understand that in this relationship, his place as the driver was more than secure. She didn't want to be in this position, in fact she was increasingly more mad, that Lando and her father teamed up on her. But since she was where fate got her, she was absolutely not accepting Lando smirking at her.
"I know what you think, we have plenty of time, so I will not be doing some stupid moves to get us both killed," she said and gripped the steering wheel even more.
To prove his point, Lando leaned over her and squirted his eyes and watched the slowly approaching cars. He gave her a sarcastic nod. She rolled her eyes.
"I'm joking, I'm joking," he said, putting his hands in defense.
"You better be, otherwise I'll just yeet us into the ditch."
"Feisty..."
And that was when the line got crossed.
"Fine!" she said, having no control over her emotions, and pressed the gas with new found energy. She turned, almost into a drift, and joined the main road, nearly having the two cars crash into her.
Lando gripped the handle, not expecting her to speed so much. His eyes went wide with realizations - she was the kind of driver operating on emotions. Had this been a racing track and an F1 car, he'd be having more fun, knowing the cars were epitome of safety. He was not so sure about this vehicle.
She had the "Tsunoda" energy and absolute lack of skill to go about it. Weaving, wrong gear almost constantly and not bothered by the sound her car was making.
"You're driving quite close to the lane, baby," he commented, getting more and more worried about their safety.
"Shut up, don't be all smart about it," she said, lips locked in a line. She was focused - not that it helped.
Another hard turn where she missed the right moment to go into it. Lando took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, trying to stay calm.
After few hundred metres, he couldn't take it again.
"I think you're way over the speeding limit," he mentioned.
"That's not what this says," he nodded to her speedometer. Lando leaned over and had to laugh.
"Yeah, that's definitely not correct. Honey, I'm sorry, but the lane - you are too close to it," he said in the calmest tone he could gather.
"My brain does not work like that, I see it more in an abstract way..."
His eyes nearly popped out. "You see the road in an abstract way? Oh dear god."
She sighed, not understanding what was the big deal was. "No like, it's a concept. It's not real, if there is nobody on the road, you can be anywhere."
"I'm pretty sure that's not the case, sweetheart," he said and thought for himself that it could be the case if she knew how to drive, but not like that. "Change the gear, you're burning your clutch."
She slapped the steering wheel. "I. Do not. Accept. Advice. At the moment. Thank you!" she said slowly before going on a rampage. "We both know you're exceptionally good at this, it was your idea, I tried to stop you, so now face the situation and do not tell me what to do because I might panic even more!"
"Ok, ok, calm down," he said, putting his hands up in defense and turning his head away to avoid watching her inventing a new way how to turn the steering wheel.
This sent her over the edge, truly giving up on any rules. She was mad, scared, uncomfortable and kind of hungry to be honest.
Lando stayed silent, worried for his life, regretting his decision and making a mental note to listen to her if she says she can't do something - if they survive this.
A huge bump and a loud noise. She barely managed to keep the car on the road.
"What is that?" she screamed, not knowing what to do.
"Front left tire puncture, retire the car! I mean, shit, stop, over there," he gestured, to the sideline of the road.
//
"Ok, so what now?" she said once it seemed like a decent amount of time for him to stop observing the wheel.
"It's just the tire, I'm sure you've got a spare at the back, right?" he asked and like the gentleman he was, got up and looked in the back for a replacement. When he got it out, he proudly put it in front of her, considering his part of the job done. She stared at him, not moving. "There you go," he said, encouraging her. "They taught you how to do this at driving school."
"Um, yeah. I missed that lesson. Can you do it?"
"How could you miss that lesson?" he asked in desperation. Both of them stood there, waiting for the other to take the lead. It was very unusual for Y/N to see him this passive around a car. "Come on, you must have had a question about this on your test," he pleaded.
And then it clicked. "Lando?" she asked, having a very strange feeling about his behavior. "Do you know how to change a tire?"
He stayed silent, pretending to ignore her question. Y/N's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, you don't know how to change a tire?!" she asked once again, unable to believe that could even be the case. "Isn't that like half of your job?"
"Well no, actually, my job is to drive. There is a whole team dedicated for changing my tires," he said matter-o-factly.
"You're a racing driver. Spend more time in a car than in a bed. And you don't know how to change a tire," she stated and started to laugh. "That's so rich."
He let out a heavy sigh. "I've never actually done it myself. Plus these are normal tires, different system."
"Oh my god," she said, unable to process.
The way how much this whole thing has backfired had Lando stuck. He was suppose to be engaging in inappropriate activities with his girlfriend at this moment. In his understanding of that, it did not include getting his phone out and searching for an online tutorial for bloody tire change. But, there he was. Y/N was suddenly having so much fun, coming off a high that was the adrenaline her body produced during driving. She was free and driving was impossible now. Bliss. In her opinion, this was all Lando's fault - she told him she couldn't drive. Payback time - hopefully Oscar would pick up.
She was dialing her phone, while he was trying to understand how to go about this.
Yes, he picked up! "Hi, this is Y/N," she said in a very serious tone. "Who are you calling?" Lando mouthed, his biggest worry that she dialed up her father and he is now going to have a reputation until the end of time. "Help," she mouthed back silently.
"Hi Y/N," was Oscar's response, the driver being somewhat confused as to why she was calling him. "What's up?"
"Glad you ask. Me and my boyfriend got into a serious situation."
"You and Lando?"
Lando frowned. "Are you calling assistance? We don't need them..."
She ignored him."Yes, I was forced to drive-"
"He let you drive?"
"Forced-"
"What kind of assistance is it?" Lando asked, doubting the whole phone call.
Y/N continued without pausing. "And we managed to get a flat tire, which I don't know how to fix and to surprise of the whole universe, he can't fix as well."
There was only laughter on the other end of the call.
"Y/N, who are you calling?"
Y/N pretended not the hear Lando. "Do you know how to change a tire?"
Oscar was more than amused, knowing he just gained a wild card to use on Lando anytime he would want. "Yes, of course I do. Put me on Facetime with him."
Y/N smirked at her boyfriend, who was still confused and with sparkles in her eyes handed him her phone.
"Oscar says hi!"
Lando blinked, several times. "What? No!...Shit. Hey Oscar," he waved at his teammate awkwardly.
"I have been summoned," Oscar announced, finding this all very amusing.
"Yes," Lando replied, defeated.
Oscar did not wait and took the situation in charge. "First step to do is make yourself seen, guys. You got a triangle?"
"Where's the bloody bucket hat when you need it the most..." Y/N mumbled, having Lando roll his eyes in reaction.
"I'll go and find it and you guys figure this out, ok?" she said handing over the phone to Lando and giving him a little peck on the cheek.
"I hate you," he said with a smile.
"I hate you more," she replied and skipped over to the trunk.
//
After series of creative curse words, one pair of ruined jeans and a celebratory high five, the pair stood once again in front of her car, staring at each other.
"I guess I'll drive us back," Lando decided loudly and waited for her approval.
"Agree. Let's not disturb the gods anymore. You're such a bad passenger princess anyway."
The past hour was filled with lot of conflicting emotions, but the only one that stayed was the love the two shared just by looking at each other.
"I'm sorry I forced you into this," Lando apologized softly. "It was not fair. I see that now."
Her lips turned into a weak smile. "Thank you. And sorry for calling Oscar. I'm sure he won't let you forget this."
He see right though her. "No, you're not sorry about that - I can see the devil in your eyes."
She bit her tongue. "Yup."
It was hard for Lando not to kiss her in that moment. It was impossible for her to resist.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#ln4 imagine#formula 1#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#fluff#lando norris fluff#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 fanfic#ln4 x reader#ln4 x y/n#lando norris x y/n#formula 1 one shot#f1 one shot#lando norris imagine#ln4 fic#f1 requests
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dramatic â drew starkey
warnings/notes: basically just fluff. more of a blurb than a fic but whatevvaaaa
pairing: drew x angel!reader (younger!reader)
no matter how much reassurance drew gave you regarding your guys' 'break', the thought of him figuring out he's better off without you still consumed you in a way that was debilitating.
despite drew being the one to initiate the break, you knew you were the only who really needed it. with drew's new found fame, also came a wave of obsessed fans who wanted nothing more than you out of the picture. people found ways to leave you nasty comments, some saying you 'weren't good enough' for him or just attacking your appearance.
and while you knew that drew loved you and didn't want anyone else but you, the comments still got you.
laying in your bed, surrounded by your stuffies, the ones who have grown to know all your bad habits; the bed rotting, the constant crying, you snatched your phone off your bedside table. you kept telling yourself that you wouldn't call or talk to drew, but you literally couldn't help it. being apart from him had you thinking that he was doing things he shouldn't be. AKA, partying and talking with others girls who weren't you.
you clicked on drew's contact, he took no time answering. "hey baby, what's up?" he sounded happy, a little too happy. was he happy because you called? or was he happy because it's been days since he seen you and he's realizing how happy he is without you?
"what are you doing?" your muffled voice made drew's eyebrows furrow. part of you hoped he'd ask what's wrong, yeah maybe you were trying to sound extra sad over the phone, but he didn't need to know that.
"are you crying?"
"yeah."
"what's wrong?"
"well, y'know. this whole break is just teaching me a lot." you played with the strings on your sweatpants- drew's sweatpants.
before you could keep spewing out false information drew interrupted. "oh my god." drew laughed. "would you stop with this whole break stuff? we're not on a break, i just told you to go home for a few weeks. reconnect.... with your family and stuff."
you tried not to giggle to yourself through the phone, drew was so unintentionally cute. and he was feeding right into your plan.
"okay well it feels like it." maybe you were being a little dramatic.
"okay well," drew smiled to himself, god were you annoying, but god you were also perfect in everyday. "it's not a break. and we're not broken up. does that ease your mind a little?"
"i guess," you lied. it eased your mind a lot actually.
"you guess?"
"tell me you miss me." you felt your cheeks turn red at your request, a little embarrassed by your boldness.
"i miss you. i miss you so much."
"what else?" you toyed with the strings of your sweatpants some more, still nervous, although you had no reason to be. drew was loving every minute of this.
"i miss you everyday. it's so boring without you here, i just sit around hoping you'll text or call. i miss that ass." drew giggled, his giggle was so contagious. "i miss that attitude."
"okay watch yourself." you giggled, unable to keep up the nonchalant cover any longer.
"do you feel better now?" drew questioned, he knew you overthought a lot, but he was always there to reassure you and make you feel better. as long as you were his, you were loved. and he never wanted you to feel any other way.
"yeah." you said softly. you felt better, but you still missed him a lot.
"good. now can you just please go enjoy yourself? for me?"
"yes. i love you."
"i love you too baby."
#bookshelf#angel!reader#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey#drew starkey x you#drew starkey moodboard#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey headcanons#drew x angel#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey imagine
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àšà§ â§âË â
love and deepspace men and their random habits
warnings: none!!
characters: rayafel, xavier, zayne, sylus
link to master list here!
authorâs note: feeling like a short and sweet one today, sometimes writing more than i want can take the fun out of writing so iâll stick true to myself this time đŁïž
more below the cut! âăïŒăăâïŒ
he like, drums his fingers a lot. you know like that rhythmic tapping on desks?
rafayel enjoys moving around his fingers and stimulating his brain in little ways whilst heâs waiting for some paint to dry to paint another layer or when waiting for you to finish an activity.
he also picks at things, paint on the wall or at scabs (bad habit, you tell him but he never stops) - he complains and says it doesnât hurt when you bandage it up
rafayel hates growing out his fingernails but he doesnât bite them, he tends to pick them until they peel shorter then clip them neat with nail clippers
how to combat both his picking habit and nail peeling at the same time? slap on some nail polish, he gets to peel to his hearts content and look amazing at the same time!
âCutie, come here. I peeled off all my nail polish, can you redo it?â
i feel like in game xavier already blinks quite a lot more than all the LIs, but i can see him also doing those like, long hard reset blinks
heâll blink loads at once then do this longer blink and then be fine, i can just see him doing this
maybe itâs because his hair looks like itâd get in and irritate his eyes lolol
when you and him get plushies he keeps the ones he keeps on his bed, i feel like heâs usually minimalistic when designing his house but his bed??
itâs like a plushie fortress, when you visit you could literally drown in them
âI like sleep, and I like you. Itâs the best of both worlds, want to join me?â
zayne is the type of person to ACTUALLY rub his temples, like what person actually does that? zayne of course.
he also subconsciously clicks pens a lot, not loud and at a high frequency - but if you pay attention to his hands youâll notice he gently clicks and then un-clicks the pen when in deep thought
he definitely does this more when heâs stressed, the feeling of the pen popping out against his thumb is therapeutic
zayne keeps around fake plants and a watering can because he somehow found a sick sense of amusement watching you water them every time you came to his office.
âWhy am I smiling? No reason.â
he genuinely rubs his hands together and it makes sylus look like a fly, he just looks so sinister and mischievous when he does it
if you ask him why he rubs his hands together he just shrugs his shoulders
âJust habit, sweetheart.â
really itâs because he has sweaty palms LMAOO and heâs an old man, of course heâs gonna do old man things
i feel like sylus likes to chew on things, imagine one time you catch him clenching his jaw and decide to give him some gum
itâs not like he doesnât know what gum is he just never really though about buying some
after that you find stacks of gum in his draws and heâs always chewing a piece, the only thing he dislikes is discarding gum.
AN; silly silly men doing silly silly things, i didnât think too much about these just slurred random ideas and wrote them down LMAO
#â§âș writing#love and deepspace#lnd imagine#lads#lnd rafayel imagine#lnds rafayel#rafayel x you#rafayel x reader#love and deepspace rafayel#lnd xavier imagine#lnds xavier#xavier x mc#lads xavier#xavier love and deepspace#xavier x reader#zayne x mc#lnds zayne#zayne x you#lads zayne#zayne love and deepspace#l&ds sylus#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus x you#sylus x reader
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the reason why i don't think blood & cheese works without maelor is because it undermines the gravity of helaena's choice
in the books, as we all know, she has to choose which son to sacrifice. blood & cheese are going to kill one either way, so, whatever happens, if you want to get cynical about it, aegon will still be left with a male heir of his body. no, the horribleness of the choice lies not really in dynastic matters, but in basic humanity: which of your children are you willing to condemn to death? and helaena truly does try to make the best out of a bad situation, she picks not because she loves jaehaerys more, but because maelor is so tiny that she hopes he won't understand what's going to happen to him.
and she absolutely has to choose, because b&c threaten to rape her daughter if she doesn't. it's psychological torture. b&c just want to fuck her up in the head as much as possible and helaena tries her goddamnest to minimize the harm done to her family. to further compound on the tragedy, b&c kill the opposite child, so now she has to live out the rest of her days knowing that the son left alive is the son SHE herself marked for the axe. which is what understandably drives her to lose her mind
now, in the show, the "problem" blood & cheese have doesn't exist at all: that they can't supposedly tell the twins apart. but (as awful as it sounds, since it involves sexual assault) they could very easily check which child has male genitalia and be done with it. it's a "problem" that takes literal seconds to solve. they don't need helaena at all! it becomes irrelevant which child she points towards - b&c can always just check! she can't save jaehaerys in this situation no matter what she does, because b&c were never interested in jaehaera in the first place. in the books, she has the ability to save one child and this exact horrible "agency" bestowed on her torments her for the rest of her days. in the show, even had she pointed towards jaehaera, it would have been a narrative plot hole for the writers to have killed her without checking
likewise, in the books, she begs them to kill her instead, but, in the show, she offers them a necklace? you can't deny that the dramatic stakes are lowered substantially by making that change. which one of these options would have been more filled with pathos? personally, it just feels like this was phia's moment to shine and, while she did a good job with what she had, every narrative choice was somehow made to subdue this horrible event and left her only crumbs to work with. cinematically-speaking, this scene (as it was executed) does not even come close to the iconic moments that cemented GoT into the collective consciousness, which is very strange, as the subject matter is anything but mediocre
and that's not even getting into the rest of the plot holes that others have already pointed out, like:
- why are there no guards at helaena's door or anywhere else for that matter? not just on that hallway, but on many other hallways, she has to run quite a lot to get to alicent's chambers
- why is her room unlocked at the very least
- why is ALICENT's room unlocked, for that matter? she is having secret guilty sex with criston and she forgets to lock her door in a castle full of spies? anyone could have walked in
- not even getting into this whole thing just being one huge misunderstanding + minimizing daemon's and mysaria's roles :))
- NOT EVEN mentioning removing the trauma of alicent witnessing all of this, gagged and bound on her own bed, not being able to help or intervene in any way
i can understand the likelihood of these elements happening sometimes (maybe someone does forget to lock their door from time to time, maybe a guard does shirk their duties from time to time), but you can't write all of them at once without it turning all looney tunes. if you introduce too many aspects that defy logic in your story, it ceases to be believable and just becomes bad writing
___________________________________________
also, "they killed <the boy>"? not "my son" or "jaehaerys"? it sounds so removed, don't you think? helaena out there on her mother's floor dropping exposition for the audience đ„Č
#house of the dragon#helaena targaryen#blood & cheese#maelor targaryen#jaehaerys targaryen#jaehaera targaryen#alicent hightower#hotd s2#hotd spoilers#this is SO annoying as the episode was pretty solid throughout until this
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: ÌÌâ ALL OR NOTHING. yan! aventurine / gn! reader
it's a nice feeling to finally be on the winning side, feigning fairness when all the winning cards are in his hand. but it's not like you can fault him for cheating. after all, you who has nothing chose to challenge him, the one who will gain everything.
( overarching theme of sl4very, anim4l cruelty, anim4l death, bl00d, graphic description of violence, hinted obsessive behavior, im unoriginal and stole kafkas spirit whisper for reader ) + 7.5k words
"It's just a bet," he suggests, as if this gamble won't cost you your everything. "Juuust a bet. Exactly what are you so scared of?"
He sits laid back in his plush velvet chair, twirling a cocktail as he enjoys the finest luxuries in life. He is clad head to toe in the finest clothing, dressed like a peacock waiting to impress. You, on the other hand, feel more like the peahenâ dreadfully drab in your rags and no choice but to watch as the peacock flaunts his feathers. You are knelt on the ground, but your eyes show no submission.
"I'm not crazy, gambler," you bite. "I know the IPC. They are full of shit. And you, Aventurine." Your eyes set on him with hatred. "You're the smelliest of the lot."
Aventurine, the gem of lies and luck, sighs dramatically. "Pup, you know I don't like it when you're so vulgar, y'know? I'm giving you a chance at freedom, so you ought to at least treat me at least a little bit nicer. I'm not the one who shackled you, so I don't understand what the aggression is all about."
"You're the reason why I'm here in the first place!"
"No, Jade was." He presses a finger to your lip and you'd bite it if it weren't for the annoying bind you were under. "Jade came across you and thought you and your talent would make for a nice gift. You were a gift and I'm just the receiver. So don't go barking up the wrong tree, pup."
"So." He leans back into his couch and shoots you a sly grin. "Up for round one?"
You are lost.
The meaning of Paths and their symbolisms are lost on you. You don't care for Aeonsâ no one on your home planet was. You were busy diving in dumpsters for a scrape of food, tricking your 'friends' into sacrificing themselves for you, and killing whatever was left of your humanity just to make it to another day. You walk on no Path but yours.
You don't even know which way you're going. So you are lost.
You think Aventurine is lost too.
He has every detail of his facade practiced. His gait is relaxed enough to not be intimidating, but not sloppy enough to be called out as bad posture. He talks in a smooth voice that eases fools and makes enemies wary, his smile is charming to sway the opponent into another gamble, his hair is fixed to frame his pretty face, and he chooses words that cannot be turned into loopholes. He is Aventurine. But he is not himself.
He does not care for the Preservation, but he rejects the Elation. He is on his own Path too, but he knows the destination he must reachâ his 'End'. In that way, he is different from you, because you know not your journey or your ending. Still, he is just as lost as you.
But he makes a darn good show of not seeming that way. Right now, you watch as he throws the dice on the table, and the whole table watches with bated breath as they turn. A six and oneâ he lost the bet to the other's six and five. They cackle gleefully as they collect their earnings from Aventurine. They have chips upon chips on their side of the table while Aventurine's winnings are cut in half.
"I think I'll call it a day, pretty boy," the gambler cackles, greedily eyeing his earnings and possibly dreaming about the cash he's made tonight. "Even a gambler knows when to call quits, right?"
Aventurine pouts. "Aww, so soon? C'mon, the night's only begun! Who knows, play another round and you might just end up with more money than you have right now~"
The man laughs again, obviously not fooled by his pity act. "Boy, I'm not as addicted as you are. I know when to stop instead of letting you bleed me out dry." But Aventurine isn't fazed; rather, he snaps his fingers and you lower your head as you step to his side.
"Well, we can't have that, can we? [Y. Name], be a dear and persuade this gentleman into another round with me."
A glow of your eyes. Then you fix the man with an eerie gaze as you say, bright and clear, "Hey, you: Play another round with my master."
As if in a daze, the man's eyes cloud over and sit right back. Another round later Aventurine wins all his losses back and more, leaving the other gambler's side naked and bare of chips. The man is barely out of his stupor when he realizes what just happenedâ that he's fallen for a trick and now he's ended up with no money to even cover his lodgingsâ but you and Aventurine have sauntered out of the casino doors by the time he's begun cussing you out.
"Ha! That was fun." Aventurine shrugs off his jacket now that you're in the car and raises an empty champagne glass to you. "You're a good partner, [Y. Name]. Honestly, that Spirit Whisper of yours is such a nice trick. Just like that Stellaron Hunter, right?"
"... Kafka?"
"Yes, her. Enigmatic woman, isn't she? A bit ironic how those with such a powerful ability ended up as slaves. Her as Destiny's, and you as... mine." He gives your collar a little tug and you growl in warning, but you inch closer to him anyway. "So. Gambling. You up for that round?"
You scoff and grin at him with all teeth and no mirth. "You really think that a Cornerstone would bet on their slave's freedom?" Aventurine's own grin grows wider. "C'mon. Even Pteruges-V has better lies than you."
"Ah, right, your homeworld. No wonder you're so brazen all the time, even to your superiors. I forget that fear is a foreign concept to you people. Still," he raises your chin with a finger. "If you're so fearless, why not bet on a gamble? It's not like you're scared."
"There may be fools from my planet that you can trick with that taunt, peacock, but I'm not one of them. I'm fearless, not stupid. And with the way you're so eager to involve me in this bet, I'm beginning to suspect that you need this more than I do." You push him away. "So, no, master, I won't indulge you. I'll bide my time and look for an escape. Just like I've always had."
"And what?" He looks at you from behind his sunglasses. "Will you kill me to gain that freedom?"
You flash him a sharp grin, now amused. "Of course you'd think that, master."
The smile on his face is wiped clean. You really are a brazen thing, you.
Jade has always mentioned how soft Aventurine is on you. A dog of your attitude should merit a little more disciplinary action and even the good Doctor has told him this once or twice after seeing your arrogance despite the collar around your neck. "Your dog bites more than it deserves," Ratio scoffed while you made an action of biting him behind Aventurine. He frowned in displeasure. "You ought to make it learn a lesson or two."
"Now, now, doctor," Aventurine had laughed. "Not everyone shares the same sadistic tendencies as you." An image of you collared and shaking on your knees flashes through his mind, and he finds himself gulping. Ratio looks at him like he doesn't believe him.
It's not like he hasn't thought of it, of chaining you to the wall and starving you so that you learn that your attitude has its consequences. You shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you, not when he's been so good to you. But that... that was exactly the line of thought his old master had. That wicked man who put a brand on him and sullied his hands with his wretched man... he couldn't risk turning into a monster like... that.
Aventurine is weak. Unable to let go of past sentiments and memories, he makes it up with his grand display of bravado and high-stakes gambles. He gambles even as he spoils you, laughing at your audacity and even rewarding you for it sometimes, not knowing whether you'll leave him or if you'll stay with him. It is a gamble indeed, but you were worth every risk.
"What do you think of me, [Y. Name]?" The cityscape beyond the window is glowing with Pier Point's nightlife, and his suite provides him a good view of the world beneath him. He glances back at you, stirring his coffee for him. "Your dear master Aventurine. What do you think of me?"
"Annoying, stupid, a fool, an addict, and pathetic." You don't hesitate to badmouth your master. "You lie too well, you think that luck of yours will never run out, and you try to be someone that you can't."
"And who is that someone?"
Your eyes flash. "Someone strong. Someone confident. Someone who isn't afraid to admit his weaknesses and hope that things get better."
"I didn't peg you for an optimist, dear pet."
"Hmph. That's not optimism. I may not know what exactly fear is, but I know that what is holding you back isn't it. You do not fear things, gambler. You stake it all and bet on something so intangible as luck. That can't be fear."
"Then what is it?"
The stare you give him sets his heart off, looking straight into his eyes and giving a grin so devilish and knowing like that facade of his never mattered in the first place.
"You're a coward. A plain, old coward. Nothing more, nothing less."
That conversation had always popped up in his head in the most inconvenient of moments, especially when he was about to get some sleep. His heart beat faster every time he recalled that knowing gaze of yours, invading where he didn't want the world to see and baring his soul right before your very eyes. His facade doesn't work on you.
He could care less. You were the one person he didn't want it to work on, though he'd never admit that out loud.
This meeting with the other Ten Cornerstones could not interest him any less, and it seemed to be that way for the others too. Jade is saying something on behalf of Diamond, again, and everyone is busy doing their own thing. Only Topaz seems to be the one paying at least some attention, and even then she gets distracted by Numby from time to time. Aventurine glances at the clock.
He wonders how his pup is faring while he's away. Ecstatic, perhaps.
"â All evidence leads to an underground network that is scattered among numerous planets, though thankfully all of them are within the same galaxy. I'll be forwarding an email to you all with a detailed report on each of these. Just know that most of us will be likely deported to these countries to break up theâ" In the middle of Jade's tiresome monologue, the security alarms start to blare and two officers slam through the doors with looks of urgency. One of them scans the room until his eyes land on Aventurine, and they quickly approach him.
"Sir!" They say, desperate and alarmed. "Your doâ I mean, slave! They'veâ They've escaped!"
Surprise streaks across the faces of the Ten Cornerstones, even Aventurine's. He collects himself when he catches Jade's knowing smile and chuckles to himself.
"Well, I guess this is the master's consequence for not disciplining their pet."
Did he really think you were fucking stupid? Taking on a bet for your freedom... what a bunch of bullshit. He can proclaim about how much he loves a fair gamble, but you know that's only reserved for the people around the table. You are his slave, the one he demeaningly calls 'pet'â you don't have the chance to make your own dealings.
"Halt! In the name of Qlipoth, you better stop while we're giving you a chance." These IPC henchmen were slowpokes, the lot of them. You weave in and between salary workers, crashing trolleys full of wares and coffees and hopping between levels just to shake them off their tracks. By golly, they might be incompetent but Aeons damned they were nothing but persistent.
"Ha, the Devil Hunters were more annoying than them," you mutter to yourself, skidding around the corner only to come face-to-face with two IPC henchmen. They raise their polearms to strike, but with a chilling grin stretched across your face, you say: "Hey, you: Jump."
You don't look back to see whether they made the seven-floor drop.
This reminds you of the nights you spent back in Pteruges-V: making fools out of the prissy rich, jumping across buildings to shake of the Hunters, and using whatever you had to make things go your way. Not everyone had Spirit Whisper, but those who had made good use of it and you sure as hell wouldn't miss a single chance to use it.
Your mind runs with plans as you continue to run away. Maybe you'll find a nice ship to stow away on, hopefully, one that leads to a nice planet that isn't so stuffy and rigid. Maybe like Homberto-Ï, out of sight from the IPC and where everyone minded their own business.
For what felt like forever trying to shake your followers off, you finally came to a stop when you realized that only the sound of your footsteps could be heard in this labyrinth of hallways and corridors. Finally having shaken them off, you sigh as you climb up the stairs to the rooftop. 'Just jump down and sneak off to the nearest hiding place you can find.' You tug at your collar and scowl. 'When I escape, not even this collar will matter anymore. Not when I'm somewhere they won't reach me.'
You've escaped so many life-or-death situations before. Escaping slavery is no different.
"Slave [Y.Name], subordinate of Cornerstone Aventurine, you are surrounded!" A voice blares through a megaphone the moment you step onto the roof deck. You hiss as multiple glaring lights settle on you, shielding your face from them and the helicopters' onslaught of wind. "Surrender now before we are forced to take extreme measures."
Through the gaps of your fingers, you can barely make out the men in black pointing their guns at your head, the red hot of the laser making you a point-blank target. You click your tongue. Those bastards tricked you into thinking you were safe. Fuck. You couldn't even be mad. This was all on you.
"Oh, little pup. I guess I really should have listened to them when they told me to discipline you." Aventurine's seedy voice sighs behind you, smirking as he nonchalantly strides up to you. "Did you really have to do all this instead of taking the bet? Do you really hate the thought of playing with me, hm?"
"Fuck off."
"No can do, little one, you know how much I'm obsessed with you, right?" He chuckles, catching your chin between his thumb and index and forcing you to look into his eyes. Those Sigonian eyes are covered by the cloudy purple of his glasses, but even you can tell just how much he's enjoying this mess you've put yourself in. "You know I don't have a need for your skill. I could easily persuade anyone without trying, but I still let you stick around. Pup, I can't just back away from you when you know how much I want you."
You smile darkly. "That's cuz you're a sicko who likes tugging on the chain instead of being in it."
Those pretty eyes of his darken for a moment, embittered by the snarky comment at his past, before his hands trail down to your collar, hooking it with a finger and pulling on it. "Dear, while I usually have the patience for your tirades, I'd rather not do it today. You've humiliated me enough in front of the entire Corporation. Soâ" Pulling once again on your collar, he starts to lead you to the door. "â Let us depart without much hassle, okay?"
Humiliation sears your nerves like a hot metal, a warning growl eliciting from your mouth as he continues to tug you away from the rooftop. Close, you were so fucking close. Here you are breathing in the fresh night wind, a jump away from freedom, but then these IPC idiots all had you fooled. You don't care how many bullets will embed themselves into your skin, all you just needed to do was get away from this grip Aventurine has on you.
You grab the wrist pulling on you, yanking him towards you. His eyes widen before narrowing again, as if not believing that you still had the energy to fight like you don't have red laser points on your forehead. "[Y. Naâ"
"Hey, you: Sâ"
You couldn't even get another syllable out. Your collar beats a few pulses before it starts squeezing your neck, crushing your windpipes and forcing you down on your knees as you choke on your blood. It sears hot around your neck and you collapse writhing on the ground as you sob and gurgle on your screams and congealed blood.
'WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY MEâ' You can only curse and scream inside your head as you painfully thrash on the cement. 'â A BILLION BASTARDS IN THE WORLD AND IT HAD TO BE FUCKING ME.'
Darkness is pushing in on you and the pain is making it too hard to go on, but you've always been a fighter. Even if you think that your squirming is pathetic and futile to the onlookers, you continue to tug and pull on the collar like you have a chance. Your ears are ringing and your eyes are too fucking blurry to see with, but the fight doesn't die down.
Aventurine places a soft palm on your hair. Even through the tears stinging your eyes, you can barely make out the faint expression on his face. Damned fucking bastard, damned Signonian, hypocrite and the fucking devilâ!
He even has the audacity to look sad for you, as the light slips away from your eyes.
The first round is simple. Play a round of poker with him.
Aventurine hums delightedly as he shuffles the cards with clean and practised movements, looking right at home at the dealer's table he has sitting in his suite. You blankly look at the cards, not even an inch of a reaction from your side. He chuckles as he deals your cards.
"C'mon, look alive, dear." It's almost like he genuinely wants you to cheer up. "Look, I even poured out alcohol for you. It's not everyday that you get to taste Pier Point's most exquisite wine!"
You continue to stare blankly. You haven't given up yet, of course not, but... you can barely bring yourself to move.
When Aventurine is done dealing all the cards, he leans back on his chair and studies his opponent, just like he always has in the past. If you were acting normally, this would have been an easy win. After all, you always wore your heart on your sleeve and abhorred being told to control your emotions. You acted the way you feltâ you curse when you anger, you boast when you're feeling smug, and you press your lips together and blush as he praises you for another job well done.
But now. Well. Bandaids cover the seared marks on your neck as well as your head after you've slammed it against the pavement during your delirious fit on the rooftop. Your arms are littered with purples and blues, the aftermath of a disciplinary session that went on throughout the night. Despite the abuse that Aventurine has (rightfully, in his mind) dealt to you, he had made sure to tend to you afterwards.
Settling your head on his lap, combing through the strands as he placed an icepack on your bruises. He hummed you an old children's rhyme from his home planet as you lay limp across the couch. You could barely move, mind unable to process the pain and despair of having an inch of freedom being ripped away from you. He had wiped away the tear that would fall from your eyes.
You couldn't feel comforted at all.
"This will be the first round out of four. Today, we'll make this a bit simple. Five quick rounds of Indian poker. If you're confident that your card is higher than mine, you can bet as much as you like. Not confident? Fold, and that won't count as a round. Loser has the lower card." He raises his glasses to his hair and smiles at you. "Understood?"
"Understood," you grunt. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot."
Aventurine only smirks. It irritates you, but you don't have much fire in you to snap at him.
The room is silent save for the clinking of chips against each other. The two of you cast a chip to the middle of the table. You raise your card to your forehead.
You cast two more chips. Aventurine casts three. You stare at the printed picture on his card and throw in another chip. He throws in another five. You frown.
"Fold."
"Ah~ You should've been more confident in yourself!" Aventurine chuckles as he begins to shuffle the deck to deal another round. You scowl at the Ace of Clubs in your hand, mocking you at your relinquished defeat. "Is a little intimidation all that's needed to make you submit? You weren't this docile before."
"Shut the fuck up and let's play again." He decides to stifle his laugh for the sake of your nerves.
"Raise." Your win, six of hearts to three of spades.
"Raise." Your win, queen of spades to jack of hearts.
"Fold." Could've been Aventurine's, ace of spades to king of spades.
"Raise." Aventurine's win, eight of clubs to six of hearts.
"Fold." Could've been yours, queen of hearts to 10 of clubs.
"Raise." Aventurine's win, nine of clubs to seven of spades.
Aventurine's practiced hands thumb through the cards as he begins to rearrange them again. His glass wine is almost empty, while yours is untouched. The man knows that you don't drink, so why would he...?
"Last round before one of us wins," Aventurine's voice lilts as he throws you your card. "How about we make it exciting? No one is allowed to fold this round." You frown at him but don't say anything. You cast another chip to the table, and he follows suit.
He has a 10 of spades pressed to his forehead, and your fingers dig deep into your skin.
'Oh please, there's other cards higher than a 10.' You remind yourself, but you gulp down your dry throat as your vision zeroes into his card. 'Jack, Queen, King, Ace. Anything. Please.' Aventurine notices your hurried breathing and smiles knowingly. You gulp whatever cowardice is rising in your throat and throw another chip.
"Raise." Fuck it. If this is the last round, then let's just ball.
He cocks his head, finding the motion unnecessary in this last round. But he sighs with a smile and plays along, casting his chips into the fray, "Then I'll raise too."
"This is the last round," you say, more so to remind yourself.
"Yep." He leans forward on the table and the fluorescent lights cast a shadow over those alluring eyes. "Nervous?"
'How could you say that? How could you taunt me like that? When you were just like me?'
You strengthen your resolve and glare up at him, the fire lighting back up in those blank eyes. "I hope you go to hell."
You throw your card to the middle, with the rest of the chips.
Jack of Clubs.
Aventurine cocks his head at you, smiling as usual.
"Congratulations, pet."
One would expect that Pier Point was the peak embodiment of wealth and luxury, being the base of the Interastral Peace Corporation. But the brightly something shone the darker its shadows.
Aventurine just so happened to like those shadows, even shrugging off those fancy clothes of his just so that he could find solace in those sleazy bars and play rounds of poker with dead-eyed salarymen and recently fired hopefuls.
The surroundings didn't fare any better. Amongst the dying neon lights, Pier Point's worst neighborhoods featured a just as nasty environment. Drunkards lying beside dumpsters with shattered beer bottles around them, cats hissing at each other in a fight for survival, and abandoned children peeking at them around the corner as they lay in wait for an opening.
Aventurine has shedded his elaborate peacock coat in favor of a simple white button-down and slacks. Despite the simplicity, he still looked out of place amongst the rags, though it made people think of him as a fearless idiot rather than run away at the sight of the IPC's elite.
"Mmm, that robin is indeed very plump," the blonde idiot remarks out of nowhere. "Quite out of place for this kind of area."
You pay him very little attention, mindlessly kicking the broken half of a bottle with your heel. It bumps into a smelly bastard who shoots you an irritated look, but quickly cowers when you return it tenfold. "Maybe it's been feeding on the leftovers of you prissy IPC folk," you spat, taking a look at the fat robin for yourself.
He takes no notice of the slight towards his kind and instead cocks his head at the cat slinking around the corner. "Well. Its health has attracted a rather unwelcome predator." He turns to you, with a mischievous smile. "How about we make this round two? Who will die first, the cat or the robin?"
Seriously? You were betting your freedom on something as stupid as this? You consider the catâ snarling, insipid thing, balding and thin as a stickâ then the robin, tweeting fearfully at its perch on the graffitied wall. "Am betting on the cat. Could eat the fat thing while you go on another gamble."
He laughs, sliding on his shades as he walks into the seedy bar. "Then I have no choice but to bet on the poor robin. Let's have some fun before we see the results of our bet."
The cat is lying on the ground, heaving its last few breaths. Its yellow eyes are barely peeking out from its eyelids, probably delirious and starving in its last moments. You poke it slightly with your foot.
It meows pitifully. You instantly feel bad.
It might just be the ugliest thing you've laid your eyes on, but even the ugliest creatures deserve some sort of companionship in their last moments. It hisses weakly when you draw your hand close, but it can't do anything but relent as you stroke its hairless head. It purrs a bit, ragged and breathy, but the heaving of its ribbed chest slows as it relaxes.
"Don't do that," you murmur. "Just... just be quiet. It's okay."
The quiet steps of leather shoes stop beside you, and Aventurine watches on in silence as you comfort the dying thing. His gaze moves from the cat to the robin, still perched on top of the wall with his fat little chest and beady eyes. It hasn't moved from its position at all, just... staring and staring.
"Soâ"
"I know," you murmur, focus still on the poor thing. "I know, okay?"
The fat robin chirps again, tittering with its mocking chirp, before it flies away into the sky.
Your cat closes its eyes shut, and its skinny chest finally slows to a stop.
Aventurine stays with you for a while as you find a nice spot of earth to bury it.
No matter how much you want to believe your preconceived image of the blonde gamblerâ irresponsible, materialistic, money-wastingâ you can't just make up lies about him in your head when all of his missions end on a win for him. Right now, he's heading for another mission in a galaxy far away again. And like always, he's dragged you along whether you like it or not.
"Come on, you like sightseeing other planets!" He laughs on the space warp going there. "Makes your blood pumping, scouting out the possible planets you can run away to."
"If I can run away," you grumble, not wanting to acknowledge him as you stare out the window and into the starry expanse of galaxies and space. This sight has always unnerved youâ a reminder of how small and insignificant you are. How small and insignificant this collar hand on your life.
"It's not like you to be such a downer," he huffs. He pats the empty seat beside him. "Come, come. Drink with me. Ah, but no alcohol though. Don't want you trying to bite my entourage as soon as we get off." He's referring to the time that you had two sips of the lightest alcohol the ship had in stock before you absolutely wasted and decided that running away to the next planet was a good idea.
You grunt but sit on the floor next to his feet. He doesn't dare to correct you but only regards you with amusement before handing you a glass of sparkling water. You've always had this weird insistence of maintaining your master-slave status quo, despite abhorring your status as a slave. You followed his commands to the tee no matter how dangerous but refused to budge whenever he insisted on treating you like an equal.
"Don't get me wrong," you had snapped at him angrily one time. "As long as I'm in this stupid collar, I am not your fucking equal. So don't go around treatin' me like one, got it?!"
"You got the briefing, right? I'll be dismantling an underground operation on our next planet, so I'll be making good use of your Spirit Whisper." You sip your drink and make no reaction. "I'm sure you have no complaints about that, right?"
"Like I have a fuckin' choice."
He laughs into his cocktail. "Right. How could I forget?" Your eyes narrow into slits when he threads his thin fingers through your hair, but you don't make any move to remove them. "Unfortunately, this isn't an operation that I can just charm and gamble my way through, so you'll be doing a lot of heavy lifting. But so long as I have you, my dearest pet, I'm sure we'll be done before we know it."
You fight the urge to give into his tender touch, massaging your scalp as he combs your strands, though your eyelids are drooping now. He chuckles fondly when you rest your chin on the sofa, right next to his thigh. Adorable, how easily you succumb to the smallest of physical affection.
"Just take a nap," he hums. "We'll be there before you know it."
Aventurine's lavish outfit is a stark contrast against the nitty and gritty environment of the gambling den the two of you are staking out right now. Some of the men leer at him when he passes by, their faces painted by sweat and malice, and the promiscuous women bat their eyes at him with painted-on sweet smiles. No one bats an eye at the collared servant trailing behind him.
You try not to wince as you accidentally make eye contact with another slave, them kneeling on the ground with only rags to cover them and you have the luxury to look away as you grip the sleeves of your ironed button-down. You decide to just fix your eyes on Aventurine's back for the rest of the journey.
The next room you enterâ less room to be honest, and more... coliseum-yâ features a fighting ring where the crowd cheers on two dogs circling each other under the fluorescent spotlights. The other one, bigger and scarred, is baring his teeth while bearing a deep red gash across his body. The smaller one is shivering but giving the same energy back, snarling in intimidation while also sporting a noticeable limp. Despite the darkness of the room, you don't miss the way Aventurine's face contorts into disgust as he looks at the fight and surveys the crowd of spectators.
"Disgusting," he murmurs. You don't say anything back, though you doubt he could hear you amidst all this cheering. You used to bet on dogs too, back in the day. It was quick and easy money, and you had better things to worry about than the fate of some mutt.
While you're focused on the pathetic dog show in front of you, he steps to your side and nudges you with his elbow. "Willing to bet?" He asks, eyes focused on the show. "As our third round."
"From the look on your face, I thought you hated this kind of thing."
"I do, but I'm not putting money in the pot like the rest of them. This is strictly between you and me with no money involved." He turns his gaze to you. "So, what about it?"
You study the dogs. They've been circling each other for a while now, and the crowd's been growing more and more agitated by the lack of fighting. You think of the dogs you've bet on before, how the smaller ones had just an equal chance of success at winning as the bigger ones. Unconsciously, you tug at your collar. It matches perfectly with the stupid dogs down below.
"Bet," you huff. "I'm taking the smaller one."
You don't know why. It'd make sense to just bet on the bigger and badder, but maybe it's that ferocity in his eyes even if it's overshadowed by the growling menace that has you feeling for it. It's stupid, you know, betting your freedom on a hunch and emotions. But...
If it could have a chance at winning... then why can't you?
...
... Are you destined to die, just like it?
... Are you destined to die as a slave for another IPC slave?
... Will your death be just as morbid and pathetic as the mongrel, his innards spilling onto the pavement while the winner is pulled away by the collar, with no prize but another day of freedom?
This is round three out of four. You've only won one so far.
The very next round could kill you. Could completely sign away your freedom.
Shit shit shit shit shit. Why'd you have to go feeling sorry for the stupid shit? Why'd you have to empathize with its futile fight? Why'd you have to go see yourself in it? Now you could very much share its fate, dying pathetically serving for people who never cared about you in the first place.
Shit shit shit shit shit. The pressure of the bet has always been at the back of your mind, niggling at your brain. But now you can feel its heavy weight squeezing around your heart, in perfect rhythm with the phantom choking of your collar. If you don't win the next, you could very muchâ
Something light touches your shoulder and you lurch back like you had been stricken there. It disgusts and scares you, sending both repulsion and fear through your body like maggots wriggling into your system.
With a faltering outstretched palm, Aventurine's eyes widen behind his glasses. He sees something on your face, enough to make him bite down whatever cocky shit he has to say, and turns his back towards you.
"Let's go," he says, just barely audible above the crowd. "We still have a mission to complete.
"This is some silly joke of yours, isn't it?" Aventurine maintains his cool facade, but even then there is disgust in his tone as he speaks to Jade. "Giving a slave to another... you must think this is hilarious."
"Amusing, maybe, but this little one is too precious to let loose in the wild." Jade strokes your head, and while you curse in warning, you don't move to attack. "A user of Spirit Whisper, a rarity even among those in Pteruges-V. Don't you think it'd be better if they served the Amber Lord rather than going back to their pretty crimes?"
"Then give them to someone else." Aventurine turns his back on you and Jade. "Since when did I need help closing a deal?"
"Well, I just thought that you were lonely."
"And you think gifting me a slave of all things would help me?"
"Oh, just give them a chance. I'm sure you'll like this one. Look." Jade raises your chin with a finger, lifting your bruised face to the light. You shoot her a glare, plotting murder in your head, but you don't try to fight back. You might have tried once, probably, and learned your lesson. "Don't you love the fire in their eyes, even after being collared and brutally beaten?"
It is sick. It is sick how Jade can just easily muse about your past abuse to his face. To him. It is sick how the IPC thinks that Aventurine would even be happy about this... gift, let alone accept it.
"I appreciate the... thought." Jade smiles at the barely held back distaste in his voice. "But I'd really rather not."
"Oh, I see..." Jade hums, tilting her head to scrutinize you. "But no one else will accept you since you're too feisty for their liking. So I guess..."
"We'll just have to kill you."
Your face pales. Aventurine has never been quick to turn around.
"Fine. I'll accept," he says with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. "I'll accept your gift, so just..." He sighs, massaging his temples and waving Jade off. "Go away and let us be."
"Is this some sort of savior complex you have going on?" Despite being a slave, you haven't really learned how to hold that spiteful tongue of yours. Half of the fault lies with Aventurine, seeing how he's never bothered to scold you for it. He looks away from the reports in his hand and smiles at you.
"Oh, whatever do you mean, my dear pup?" Your bitter scowl is pushed down even further at his sweet tone and you scoff.
"I mean," you say, gesturing all around you. "You never scold me, you give me good food, you do all these nice things for me. You don't beat and lash at me like others do. Are you feeling sorry? As one slave to another?"
"Personally, I've never heard of a slave complain about treating this well."
"It's weird." You frown. "It's weird and creepy. All these niceties yet I can tell that you don't even mean half of 'em. Your heart isn't in it. You're just doing it for the sake of being nice. So I don't get it." You cross your arms and lean on the couch, deep in thought. "If you don't even mean it, why even bother?"
Aventurine hums, studying your silent and pondering figure before returning to his papers. You don't follow up your complaints with anything else, and the two of you are left to stew in the silence.
... Why even bother indeed?
"Last round and you only have one win, pup." His sickly sweet voice croons, tapping his perfect nails on the table as he watches your expression. "Are you excited?"
Normally you'd bite back, but today you thickly swallow. The looming sense of doom continues to hammer into the back of your skull, spiking your nerves with every beat and shaking your senses. You can barely feel your fingers. You can barely feel except for the fear coiling around your heart.
"... Yes." You can't even barely say a syllable.
Through the rushing blood of your ears, you can barely make out the sound of your master rummaging through something. Something metallic clicks into place and he slides it to the center of the table. You will yourself to look upâ
A shiny revolver lies on the table.
A surprised cry elicits from your mouth and you jolt back. The sight of a weapon is enough to startle your poor nerves now and even more so the expectant look glinting in Aventurine's eyes. He smirks and leans forward.
"How about I make an offer you can't refuse?" Not that you were in a position to do so. "Since this is the fourth round, how about we go all in?"
"Russian Roulette. Whoever wins stays aliveâ"
âAnd the other lays dead in a puddle of their own blood.
It goes unsaid, but the moment you locked eyes with Aventurine, it was clear that the both of you were thinking of the same thing. You could ponder upon why the Aventurine would stake his own life over something so trivial as your freedom, but you aren't thinking anymore. All you want is your freedom. All you want is to get away.
You don't think further as you wrap your fingers around the handle of the gun and press it to your temple. You pull the trigger. Only a clean click follows, the chamber changing cases. You slide the gun over to him.
He calmly picks it up and slots it to his temple too. "Why are you so desperate to get away from me, pup?" He cocks his head. "I would give you everything you ask for, should you just ask. I treat you with care and as a friend. Is being with me so bad you'd put your life on the line for your freedom?"
He pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He slides it over to you.
"Even if you go back to your old life, what would be the point? You'll go back to stealing whatever you can off nobles, treating your fellow street rats like fools and pawns before dashing off to your next victim. Would that give you happiness? Fulfillment? Is that the life you prefer instead of being next to me?"
"Sh... Shut up." You sound drained, but he presses on.
"You can have it all, in the price of a collar. Does it not sound good enough to you?"
'Why... Why of all people is he...'
"Do you really hate being owned by me?"
"Why are you..." You choke on your words, grip around the handle trembling. "Why are you saying those things?"
Aventurine has never seen you cry. Not once. Not even when he had to punish you for running away. You could be weak and beaten, but you never willingly cried. But now...
He raises a hand to cover his smile.
"I thought... I thought you of all people would understand." Tears drop to your lap and your hand lowers the gun from your temple. "The pain, the humiliation of being a slave, of being owned. It doesn't matter how nice you are to me. I just want to be free. Shouldn't that be enough?"
Silence overtakes the room as Aventurine takes in the unfamiliar sight before him. Here you were, his greatest treasure, the most vulnerable than you ever were. Sobbing and weeping with a gun in hand, the pressure of the bet finally getting to you.
He moves. "... So this is it? For your pride?"
You wince, looking at him in betrayal. "You... I thought you of all people would at least understand..." You stay silent, the words forming on your tongue but too afraid to sound them out. Then your expression twists into anger, then resolute determination, before you wipe away your tears and glare at him like you always did. "I was wrong. You're scum. Just like the rest of 'em."
The moment the head of the gun points at his head, the collar clamps down and chokes you till your throat cracks and bleeds. The current of electricity crackling your nerves is just as painful and torturous as last time, but you grit your bloodied teeth and press the gun further.
Aventurine looks dazed, staring up into your bloodied face. If you weren't in such agonizing pain you would have laughed at how stupid he looks.
"[Y. Name]..."
"I hope you go to hell," you hiss through the bloody pain. "And I hope that when I get there, I'll never have to fucking see you again."
You pull the trigger to that beautiful face of his, but nothing happens once again. Fuck. It falls to the ground as the pain overwhelms you and you finally stagger. It lays among the specks of blood on the carpet, along with its empty... case...
Your eyes flick to Aventurine, still caught off guard and staring at you with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he reaches out to your convulsing body and cradles your head. "[Y. Name]..." He says, still sounding dazed. "Why would you..."
"Fuckin'... coward..." You grit out. "I was right... from the very start..."
Aventurine watches as you succumb to the pain and collapse in his arms. Despite being unconscious, the collar continues to shock and choke you, and more and more blood spouts from the side of your mouth and into the carpet. He tries to wipe it, despite it continuing like a fountain, before giving up and stroking your hair as the pain continues to intrude on you in your sleep.
"I know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your eyelid. "You know it as well as me." He presses a kiss onto the other.
"You were never a bet I was willing to wager."
#yandere honkai star rail#yandere aventurine#yandere hsr#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr aventurine#yandere x reader#yester.writes
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NCT Dream finding out that their idol! gf overworked.Â
Mark Lee
Mark learned that you've been promoting your comeback with a fever when one of your co-members told him. You're passionate about your job and this comeback is one of your favorite because of the concept, that's why you couldn't bear to miss the promotion. So when your boyfriend show up to your dorm uninvited, you knew that you don't have to hide it from him anymore. He bought you (and your co-members) food! plus medicine and energy drinks for you. He lets you rest and while you rest, you two talked about your situation calmly. Mark understands your sentiments but asks you to promise him that you won't overwork yourself.Â
Huang Renjun
Same case with Mark, I feel like you'll hide that you're promoting the comeback with a fever! Not to mention, you've been working nonstop since the start of the year. Comeback, concerts, solo activities, and another comeback. It's bound for your body to shut down. So when Renjun found out through your co-member, I feel like he'll be mad at you! Why didn't you tell him!? So when he visited you, bringing care package like food, and medicine, it'll come with lots of lots of lecture (lovingly) from your boyfriend! He loves you so much but you should look after your health. Renjun also told you that do it not for him, but for your fans. You only nod, thinking that you're lucky that Renjun's there for you.Â
Lee Jeno
Jeno would be shocked when he learned that you went on a short hiatus due to health concerns. He didn't notice it because you would convince him that you're fine everytime you two would meet up or talk. Once he learned the reason why behind you went hiatus, Jeno immediately called you. You already accepted that Jeno will be mad at you, but the first thing he asked was, "are you okay?" and that made you cry. You couldn't help but to vent on your boyfriend who silently comforted you. You told him that your health is declining these days and you couldn't properly function anymore. Jeno understands your sentiments and could only assure you that your health should come first. He then tells you that he'll drop by at your place so that he can take care of you personally. <3
Lee Donghyuck
"You've been coughing every minute, are you okay?" Haechan sent the message and then glances at the screen on his laptop. You're having a random live with a fellow member at the moment. She's building a lego set and wanted you to join, so despite having a cough and fever, you helped her. But it was quick to notice how you glance at your phone from time to time because of your boyfriend's messages. Haechan can see how your forehead creased when you read his message so he sent another one, "don't be angry, im supposed to be angry! why didn't you told me you were sick!?" once the live ended. You have to face an angry Haechan who nagged you for hours because you hid your sickness from him. In the end, you apologized to him because you knew he's just concerned for you.Â
Na Jaemin
You thought that it wouldn't be obvious but when you saw how Jaemin's face went from smiling to a concerned look, you knew that you were bad at hiding. "You look pale," he pointed out. "Pale? what do you mean, I'm always pale," you lied, laughing awkwardly. But Jaemin crossed his arms and then stared at you with a serious expression. That's why you have no choice but to tell your boyfriend that you actually came back from the hospital because you have to take a medicines for your health. Once Jaemin learned this he'll be disappointed that you hid your sickness from him. "You got me worried you know that? Tell me next time so that I can accompany," he said to you. "Babe, if you accompany me, they'll know that we're dating." "I don't care about that, I care about your health."Â
Zhong Chenle
You're promoting at the same with NCT Dream, and during your promotions, you accidentally injured your legs. You tried to brush it off thinking that it's just a mild sprain, but after your pre-recording stage, you couldn't help but feel that the pain is striking on your whole legs already. So when you got off the stage, you were limping until you reached the backstage where Chenle is coincidentally at the hallway. He'll be surprised to see you, but then helps you have seat first. He'll ask if you're okay and you tried to brush it off, that's when your boyfriend became angry, "what do you mean it's nothing!? you're limping! stop forcing yourself or it'll get worse," his tone was a bit harsh but you know that he's just worried about you, and you couldn't help but to hug him to seek comfort. Chenle, even though he's still mad, hugs you back.Â
Park Jisung
It was late when you realized that you made a mistake of giving your fans an update through bubble message because Jisung also suscribes to your bubble! So when he called you a few minutes after you sent those message, you just realized what you have done. "What do you mean you're sick?" he asked with a concerned tone. You told him that it's just a fever and you were advised to take a few weeks to rest, "a few week rests for a fever doesn't sound good to me." his tone became more serious, that's why you immediately apologize to him because you knew that Jisung's always there to remind you about your health and well-being! So learning that you're sick means that you just ignore his words. "Take care of yourself okay? I can't be there because I'm out the country but please, please take care of yourself okay?" you only smile as you said okay to him.Â
#nct dream#nct imagines#nct dream fic#nct fic#nct x reader#nct#nct dream imagine#nct scenarios#nct fluff#nct drabbles#nct dream reactions#nct dream imagines#nct mark#nct jeno#nct renjun#nct haechan#nct jaemin#nct chenle#nct jisung
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dance until we're bones
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader
summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.
a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 𫶠i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier
wc: 17.2k
warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldnât say a happy ending but a hopeful one
Hotch can barely stay awake.Â
He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadnât already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point.Â
Itâs poor planning on his partâhe already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If heâs lucky, heâll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he wonât be out until their first night in a hotel.Â
He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no oneâs surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyoneâs there.Â
Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffeesâJJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAUâs supplyâReid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always.Â
Hotch just hopes heâs put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour.Â
âWelcome, welcome, welcome,â Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. âAs lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, Iâm afraid that weâve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.âÂ
âGreat,â Prentiss mutters. âHow bad is it?âÂ
âThree married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,â Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. âMom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.â
âAwful lot of similarities between the parents,â Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. âLooks like our killer has some family issues.âÂ
Reid nods. âThe unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. Iâm guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.â
âProbably has a grudge against his father,â Prentiss remarks. âThey make it out the worst every time.â
âThereâs no method to the torture,â Morgan says. âIt looks like heâs just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.âÂ
âOur guy probably isnât trained in anything, then,â Rossi says.Â
Reid flips to another page in the file. âSerial killers like to see their victims suffer. If heâs not torturing the mom physically, then heâs likely making her watch.â
âHe doesnât kill children, though,â JJ notes.Â
âMaybe he thinks heâs doing them a favor,â Reid says.Â
âThe unsub sees himself in the kids?â Morgan suggests. âHeâs doing what he didnât get the chance to do.âÂ
âWhatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,â JJ says. âThe press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.â
âEspecially with families being killed,â Morgan murmurs.Â
JJ sighs. âIâll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.âÂ
Hotch nods and he closes his file. âWheels up in thirty. I hope youâre all ready for a long day.âÂ
-
The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitableâsave for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesnât do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file.Â
The team settles in quickly at the cityâs precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene.Â
Itâs brutalâmuch too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house.Â
They donât learn much from the officers that they donât already know. This is the most recent crime sceneâGeorge and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, theyâre going to deal with a lifetime of guilt.Â
Itâs all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control.Â
All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field. Â
Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for whatâs left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics.Â
Theyâll find whoever did this. Thatâs what gets him through it.Â
They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killerâs motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.
Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now itâs a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road. Â
Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. Itâs difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything.Â
First they go to a neighborâs house, then an alleged eye witness. They donât get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect.Â
âLucas Hartford,â Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. âThirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.âÂ
âWhat has he been charged for?âÂ
âBooked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouriâs version of aggravated assault,â she says. âHe got out of jail a little less than a year ago, and it looks like heâs been living in St. Louis for some of that.â
âAssault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,â Hotch says. âWhat makes him a suspect?â
âBoth parents are dead,â she says. âAnd from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. Heâs got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.â
Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. âWeâll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.â
âAnd hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,â Prentiss murmurs.Â
Theyâre at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind.Â
The house number and last nameâ1432, Hartfordâon the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small drivewayâthereâs no garage, so at least heâs probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive.Â
âRemember,â Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, âbe nice.âÂ
âIâm plenty nice,â he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh.Â
Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they donât wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a womanâcertainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising.Â
You.
Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock.Â
You donât live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isnât Hartford.Â
âAaron?â you ask in disbelief, and he doesnât even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions heâs going to get later.
He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. âMiss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. Weâre here with the FBI.âÂ
Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. âWhat is the FBI doing here?âÂ
Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. âWeâre here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?â
âThe murders?â you ask with exasperation. âWhatâ what murders? And what do I have to do with them?âÂ
Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.
âWeâll be able to explain everything if you let us in,â he says.Â
You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. âOkay. Sure. Why not?â
You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. âTake a seat. Uhâ do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, orâŠâÂ
You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. âThank you, but thatâs not needed.â She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch canât stop himself from looking around the house.Â
Itâs a small place, one storyâlikely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all.Â
Two styles clashâdecorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one personâs mess barely being held back by anotherâs cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub.Â
âAre you gonna sit down, Aaron?â you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. âOr do you want to look around some more?âÂ
âIâm sorry,â he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. âJust curious.âÂ
âThat makes two of us,â you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you donât sit down yourself, and thereâs still a coldness in your eyes. âYouâre FBI now?âÂ
He nods. âI had a change of heart.âÂ
You huff a laugh. âThought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.âÂ
Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. âMiss Hartfordââ
You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. Itâs been over a decade since heâs heard your voice. âYou can skip the formalities.âÂ
Prentiss nods and repeats your name. âAs you know, weâre investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.âÂ
âAnd you think I have something to do with it?â you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him.Â
âNot you,â Hotch says. âDo you know a Lucas Hartford?â
âHeâs my brother,â you say, and your frown deepens. âYouâre not sayingââ
âNo,â Prentiss interrupts, âweâre not saying anything. Weâre just asking.â
And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things:Â
Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and youâre not anywhere near the same person you used to be.Â
Hotch doesnât know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decadeânow, heâs with the BAU. Itâs not fair to assume youâre that same girl he met in law school.Â
âMy brother is not a murderer,â you state clearly.
âAnd we arenât accusing him or you of anythingââ she starts.Â
âMe?â you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. âIâm a suspect too?â
âIf you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,â Hotch says.Â
You glower at him, but you stay silent.Â
âWe arenât accusing either of you of anything,â Prentiss finishes. âWeâre just trying to gather information with what little we know.âÂ
âI know my rights,â you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotchâs. âI donât have to tell you anything.â
Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes donât leave yours. âThatâs unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.â
âYou know my name, Aaron. Use it.â
He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. âThis is a serious matter. This isnât an accusationâweâre in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.âÂ
âAsk away,â you say. âDoesnât mean Iâll answer.âÂ
âLucas Hartford,â Prentiss starts. âHeâs your brother?âÂ
You nod. âHe lives with me.âÂ
He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didnât have the heart to turn him away.Â
âWhy is that?â Hotch asks.Â
You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and heâs much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too.Â
âHeâs a student,â you finally say. âHe goes to community college. Iâm giving him a place to live while he gets his associateâs.â Â
âCommunity college and living with his younger sister at 39?â Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isnât in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. Youâve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going.Â
âHeâs getting his life back on track,â you say defensively. âIâm the only one left that can help him, so I am.âÂ
âWhat about your parents?â she asks. âSurely theyâre a better option than this.âÂ
âBoth dead,â you answer. âAnd no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?âÂ
Hotch feels Prentissâs eyes on him, likely because itâs a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he canât look away from you.Â
âReally?âÂ
He knows your parents are deadâit was in your brotherâs profile, and by extension it applies to youâbut it still hits him.Â
He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her.Â
And he didnât even know when she died.Â
You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You lookâ well⊠sad.Â
âMom went a few years after you graduated,â you say, looking at Hotch. âDad went last year.â
âIâm sorry for your loss,â Prentiss says.Â
You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb.Â
âYou never told me,â Hotch says with a slight frown.
âWe havenât talked in ten years,â you say. âSorry that I didnât know you still wanted updates.âÂ
Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. âExcuse me.âÂ
His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but heâs recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even.Â
âI take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.âÂ
Hotch nods. âWe came here looking for your brother.âÂ
âDoes your team know about our history?â you ask simply.
âNo.âÂ
âDo you want them to?âÂ
ââŠNo.âÂ
You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. ââCourse not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.âÂ
You wait another beat, then ask another question. âHowâs Haley?â
âGood, last I heard,â he says, and then he hesitates. âWeâre⊠divorced.â
Your eyebrows shoot up. âReally?â
He nods. âThis job isnât easy for anyone.â
You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. âMorgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything weâve found.âÂ
Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you.Â
âThank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.âÂ
âPass that along to your brother, too,â Hotch says.Â
You reluctantly take the card, but you donât look at it. âYou can see yourselves out.âÂ
Prentiss nods. âThank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.âÂ
She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door.Â
Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again.Â
âGarcia?â Prentiss asks after she picks up.Â
âYouâve reached the office of all that is holy.â Penelopeâs voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch canât help the smallest twitch of his lips. âWhatâs up?âÂ
âDig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,â Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. âAnd throw in his sister, too. Heâs one of our only suspects, and we need to know if sheâs in on it.âÂ
âOn it,â Garcia says. âIâll call you back when Iâm done.âÂ
âYouâre the best,â she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.
âAlright,â she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. âWhat was that back there? You two know each other?â
Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. âWe were friends in law school.â
âSure,â Prentiss nods. âThe way you were around her, thatâs not just âlaw school friendâ stuff.â
Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret.Â
âItâs nothing,â he says as he pulls back onto the road. âWe knew each other, we fell apart, weâre here now.â
Emily hums. âIs it too far to ask if you were together?â
âYes,â he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. âIt is.â
âFine,â she says breezily, and she looks out the window. âBut that tension was thick.âÂ
Hotch knows what sheâs thinking. Hasnât he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this caseâÂ
He doesnât really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadnât expected to resurface any time soonâif Hotch is being honest, he didnât know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off. Â
Youâve changed a lot. So has he.Â
And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him.Â
Thatâs the only thing that should be on his mind.Â
-
âFor the last time,â you huff as you storm down the stairs, âI donât want to deal with this.âÂ
âBecause you know that Mia is a lying bitch!â Cleo exclaims, following after you. âIâm sick of you stealing my clothes!â
âIâm not stealing your clothes,â Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. âTheyâre too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldnât even fit into them.â
âYou are! And youâre stealing my fucking jewelry, too!â she yells. âAll of my shit is going missing, and I know itâs not Little Miss Law School, so itâs got to be you!âÂ
Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. âYou are not accusing me of this.âÂ
âI donât have anyone else to accuse!â Cleo shouts.Â
They both look at you, and Mia says your name. âYou have to settle this before I kill her.â
âOh, Iâll kill you first!â she hisses. âAt least Iâll get all my stuff back!â
You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and youâre about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You donât even try to hide your sigh of relief.Â
âThatâs Aaron,â you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. âIâm leaving. If you kill each other, donât get blood on the furniture.â
You donât give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you.Â
âYou have no idea how happy I am to see you,â you breathe.Â
âWhatâs going on in there?â Aaron asks, amused.Â
âMy roommates are fighting again.â You roll your eyes. âIt doesnât matter. Youâre much more interesting.â
âYou know this is a study date,â he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss.Â
âStill a date,â you murmur against his lips. âAnd something seriously needed.â
Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. âYouâve gotta get out of this house, honey.â
âI know,â you grumble. âBut I canât afford a place on my own.â
âDoesnât have to be on your own,â he says as he opens the door for you. âIt just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.â
âThe lease ends at the end of the semester,â you sigh. âJust have to make it until then.â
âYou know,â Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, âI do live alone.â
âOh yeah?â You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. âWhat are you proposing?â
He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. âJust that you hate your roommates, and you donât hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.âÂ
âCareful,â you warn. âYou keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.âÂ
âYou keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,â Aaron muses.Â
You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you donât really care at this point. Theyâve made your life hell for a semester and a halfâthey can bother each other for once.Â
âAaron,â you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, âIâve got a test on Tuesday.â
âAnd todayâs Sunday.â He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. âYouâll be fine, honey.â
âYou have one on Monday,â you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck.Â
âRuining our fun in the name of schoolwork,â he says. âNo wonder all your professors love you.â
âEveryone loves me,â you correct. âIncluding you.â
You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.
âYouâve got that right.â
He closes your door then gets in the other side, and youâre already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on.Â
âYouâre a threat to my grades, yâknow.â
âMaybe itâs all part of my plan,â you say. âDistract you with kisses to make sure Iâm a shoe-in for this fellowship.â
âA dastardly plan,â he says with mock austerity.Â
âIâve been told I have to be more of a shark,â you muse. âConsider this me taking down my competition.â
Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs.Â
Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world.Â
âDonât let anyone know,â he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. âBut Iâll happily fall to you every time.â
âAs long as you donât tell everyone how whipped I am for you,â you tease.
âLooks like weâve both got reputations to keep up.â
âLooks like it.â
You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each otherâs presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air.Â
(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)
-Â
You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger.Â
Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friendsâ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it.Â
You didnât listen. Youâve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom. Â
They were just⊠so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing.Â
All youâve ever wanted to do is help people.Â
And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you canât help but wonder where the hell you went wrong.Â
You donât want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI wonât stop bugging you until you give them answersâyou know Aaron Hotchner wonât stop bugging you.Â
Because godâ what are the odds?Â
What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother?Â
Itâs ridiculous, and itâs such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. Youâve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than youâd like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what shouldâve been your golden years.Â
Itâs not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you donât want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaronâs eyesâhe was profiling you and your place the entire time.Â
If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant.Â
Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course itâs Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if itâs on you or your brother. âThank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.â
âWell, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.â You cross your arms as you sit back. âIâm not really gonna let that stand.â
âIâm surprised you havenât asked for a lawyer,â he says as he sits down across from you.Â
âI donât plan to be here for very long,â you respond tartly. âBut donât worryâthat can always change. I know my rights.âÂ
âIâm the last person you need to tell that to.â Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though heâs obviously olderâmore grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching lineâyou still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties.Â
You wonder what he sees when he looks at you.Â
âYour last name wasnât Hartford when I met you,â he says. âWhy is it now?âÂ
âNot one for small talk,â you remark.Â
âI never have been.âÂ
âI remember.â You hold his gaze. âItâs my momâs maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.âÂ
You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaronâs always been like that, but itâs tenfold now.Â
You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face.Â
âHow long have you been living in St. Louis?â
âSeven years. Iâve had that house for three.âÂ
âRent or own?â
âRent,â you scoff. âI donât make enough for a down payment, and I donât want a place tying me down.â
âWhat inspired the move?â
âClose enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.âÂ
âAnd home is?âÂ
âSt. Charles,â you say, and you purse your lips. âShouldnât you already know all this?â You nod at the file in front of him. âItâs either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.âÂ
âWe prefer to get our information from the source,â he says.Â
âSources can lie.âÂ
Aaron doesnât waver. âAnd we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.âÂ
Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. âAsk your questions, Aaron.âÂ
He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to youâyour brotherâs first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up.Â
You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything youâd been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had.Â
You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened.Â
âLucas Hartford is our main suspect,â he says. âHe matches our initial profileâin and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and heâs got a sister.â  Â
âNone of those sound like questions,â you say.Â
âWhere is your brother?â he asks firmly. Heâs given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell heâs getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly.Â
âI donât know,â you admit.Â
âYou donât know,â he repeats.Â
âI let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,â you say. âHeâs done both, so I stay out of his business.â
âAnd youâre telling me you havenât questioned it?â
âI called him the other day after you left,â you say. âHe didnât pick up, and I didnât get a call back until the next night.âÂ
Aaronâs eyes sharpen. âWhat did you say to him?âÂ
âI called to see where he was,â you say evenly. âI think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.âÂ
âYou didnât tell himââÂ
âNo,â you interrupt, âI didnât tell him about your investigation. If I think youâre wrong, why would I need to let him know?âÂ
He still has that look in his eyes, and you know youâre getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse.Â
âGood,â he nods. âYou could be putting lives in danger if you doâincluding yours.âÂ
âPlease,â you scoff. âHe wonât hurt me. He never has.âÂ
âWhy do you let him stay with you?â Aaron asks. âYouâre straight-edge, heâs a borderline alcoholic thatâs been in and out of jail for years. Youâve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. Youâve got your life together, his is falling apart.âÂ
âThatâs why I do it,â you say. âOur parents are dead. Iâm all he has left, and heâs all I have left. I want him to get better, so Iâm trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if heâs got no support?âÂ
âThatâs an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasnât earned it.âÂ
âIâve gotten good at that over the years,â you reply.Â
Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly.Â
âAnd youâre wrong, by the way.âÂ
âAbout what?â he asks. Again, unshaken.Â
âI donât have a law degree,â you say. âI dropped out.âÂ
And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing heâs gotten out of you.Â
âWhy? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.âÂ
âMy mom got cancer,â you say. âLuke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldnât do that from DC.âÂ
âI had no idea.â This is the first time he looks taken aback since youâve met him again. âAnd sheâsââ
âDead,â you supply without waiting for an answer. You know he already knows it, but it still seems to have some effect on him. âWent a couple months after I was meant to graduate.âÂ
ââŠIâm sorry for your loss,â he says. Heâs just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least.Â
âItâs been a decade,â you say. âIâm just sorry it was her instead of my dad.âÂ
Aaronâs brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. âYou seem to have something against your father.âÂ
You huff a mirthless laugh. âExcellent profiling.âÂ
âChild abuse is common for serial killers,â Aaron says. âWe find itâs typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.âÂ
You stare at him again. This isnât just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchnerâitâs revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron.Â
âYeah,â you finally say. âOur dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?âÂ
âYou know thââÂ
Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. âItâs valuable information for the profile.âÂ
The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. âSure.âÂ
He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file.Â
âIâll be back,â he says. âWould you like anything? Water?â
You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking.Â
âLook, Aaron,â you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. âI know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but Iâm telling youâmy brother and I donât play any part in it.âÂ
âThe profileââÂ
âI donât care what your profile says,â you interrupt. âHe didnât do it. He couldnât have done it.âÂ
âHeâs rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isnât good for anyone.â You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. âBut heâs working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.âÂ
âI suppose weâll find out,â he says evenly.Â
He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You donât mean to be desperate, but you feel it. Youâve been defending Lucas at every chance, but youâre terrified of being wrong. Youâre terrified that Aaron might be rightâthat he might be behind all of this.Â
For his sakeâand your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when heâs all you have leftâyou hope youâre right.Â
You have to be right.Â
The room feels even colder.Â
Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your houseâhe said he doesnât want them to know, but you think they already do.Â
You wonder the kind of things theyâve come up with about you and him.Â
-
Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room.Â
âShe does not like you.âÂ
âDid you gather anything else?â he asks placidly. He sets your brotherâs file down so he can fix his tie.Â
âAbusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,â he says. âLucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Ohâ and she really doesnât like you.âÂ
âIf you donât want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,â Hotch demands.Â
Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You havenât exactly relaxed, but youâre not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor.Â
âHer brother feels like a prime suspect,â Reid murmurs. âI feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.âÂ
âI told Penelope to keep an eye on him,â Prentiss contributes. âSheâs tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye outâeverything. Weâll know if she gets anything.â
âSerial killers want to see the damage theyâve done,â Reid says. âThings are falling apart hereâthe whole city is terrified. Heâs gotta be in St. Louis still.âÂ
âYouâre sure that heâs still in the running.â Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesnât want to put you through anything more than he has toânot after what youâve told him.Â
And Hotch knows your past is your businessâhe just canât believe you never told him.Â
Heâs turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things.Â
âIâm sure, sir,â Reid says. âIâve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.â
Morgan frowns. âExplain.â
âFamily annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,â he says. âParanoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.â
âHeâs killing the parents but leaving the children alive,â Hotch says. âSounds like a liberator to me.â
âThatâs what I think,â Reid nods. âIf Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?â He shrugs. âThat could be why he started going for other families.âÂ
âOther fathers to take his place,â Morgan realizes, and he nods again.Â
âYou should talk to her, Spence,â Prentiss says. âYouâve got a handle on the profile, and youâre pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable personâjust canât accept her brother doing something like this.âÂ
âItâs typical for someone to deny their family memberâs involvement,â Reid says. âNo one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.âÂ
âIf you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think sheâll listen.â Prentiss looks at Hotch. âSheâs too closed off with you.â
âThatâs how she is,â Hotch claims.
âMaybe,â she shrugs, âbut itâs much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.âÂ
Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation.Â
âIâd be happy to talk to her,â he says. âI know what itâs like to be in this kind of positionâI can put her at ease, sympathize with her.âÂ
They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of youâsome part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego.Â
âFine.â He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. âI trust you to handle it.âÂ
Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. âThank you. Uhâ sir. I appreciate your trust.âÂ
âYeah, yeah,â he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside.Â
He says your name and sits down across from you. âIâm Spencer Reid. I know weâve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.â
You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes HotchâŠÂ
Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesnât understand you the way he used toâthat he doesnât hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesnât know you anymore.Â
Hotch doesnât get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you.Â
âThey sent a new one in,â you say.Â
âYou looked like you needed a break from Hotch,â Reid says. âDonât worry. We all do sometimes.â
You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual.Â
âI can imagine.â
He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you donât look happy, you donât cut him off like you cut Hotch off.Â
âSheâs pretty,â Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. âAnd stubborn. I see why you like her.âÂ
âShut up, Morgan,â Hotch mutters.
He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation.Â
The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you donât stare daggers at him the entire time.Â
Time doesnât always heal all wounds, he thinks.Â
When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. âYou think sheâs part of this?â
He shakes his head. âNo. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainlyâit hurt her, obviously, but it hasnât taken over her life.â
âWhat about her brother?â Prentiss asks.Â
âThe more we learn, the more I suspect him,â Morgan says.Â
She nods in agreement. âWe just have to find him.â
Hotch isnât sure yet.Â
But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong.Â
-
Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldnât be happier.Â
Itâs hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once.Â
Youâre two years into law school, and it feels like youâve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but itâs made better with Aaron.Â
Youâre laying down on a blanketâone you crocheted yourself in undergradâresting your head on Aaronâs chest as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard.Â
You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you donât care. It has been too damn long since youâve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and youâve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. Thatâs far enough away for you.Â
Itâs been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issuesâLuke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round.Â
You donât think youâre pushing it when you say Aaronâs support has been the only reason youâve gotten through it, your gradesâand your mental stateârelatively unscathed.Â
Aaron says your name, and you hum.Â
âAre you listening?â he asks.Â
âOf course,â you say.Â
âYour eyes are closed.âÂ
âI donât need my eyes to listen,â you say wryly. âWhatâs up?âÂ
You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly.Â
âI got a call from Haley,â he says carefully.Â
Your eyes open and you frown.Â
You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.
It shouldnât be a big deal now. But heâs treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate.Â
âYeah? Whatâd she want?â
ââŠSheâs in DC for the weekend,â he says. âSome conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.â
You finally sit up, his hands falling from where heâd been playing with your hair, and you look at him.
âYour high school girlfriend wants to catch up.â
âAn old friend wants to catch up,â he corrects. âI havenât really talked to her since we graduated high school.âÂ
ââŠOkay,â you say slowly. âDo you want to see her?âÂ
He shrugs. âI thought it would be nice.â
âDo you think she thinks itâll be more than nice?â you ask.Â
âI donât know,â he admits. âI donât even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.âÂ
Your eyebrows rise. âYour mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?âÂ
âItâs the only way I can think of her getting it,â Aaron shrugs. âLike I said, I havenât talked to her since graduation.âÂ
You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron.Â
Youâve met his mom a dozen times. Youâre insistent that she doesnât like you, despite Aaronâs assertions towards the oppositeâit wouldnât surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction.Â
But that train of thought feels a little crazy. Youâre confident in your relationship with Aaronâyou love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. Youâre not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up.Â
âGo for it,â you finally say.Â
He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. âReally?âÂ
âI trust you, Aaron,â you say. âYou say sheâs just a friend, I believe it.âÂ
You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaronâs smiling softly at you.Â
âThank you,â he says.Â
ââCourse,â you say, tipping a shoulder. âIâm known to be rational from time to time.âÂ
He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder.Â
âI love you,â he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything.Â
You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand.Â
Sometimes you need reminders.Â
âI love you too.âÂ
-
âFour more bodies,â Prentiss mutters. âGod.âÂ
âYou can say that again,â Morgan murmurs.Â
Hotch is silent as he examines the fatherâs body. Theyâve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadnât been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third.Â
No one expected this to happen so soon.Â
The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. Itâs the work of their unsub, no doubt.Â
Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information theyâd found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the familyâs maid when she arrived for work.Â
An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one manâs deranged quest for liberation.Â
Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved.Â
He sees Jack in every single one. He canât help it.Â
Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime sceneâJJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didnât want Reid to see it. Theyâll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and itâs imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press.Â
Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount.Â
âIt just doesnât make sense,â Morgan says as he stands back up. âOur guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isnât his thing.âÂ
He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the fatherâs arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. âLook at this. Heâs been stabbed at least ten times, and his armâs nearly severed from his body.â
âAnd his neck,â Morgan mutters. âHeâs half decapitated.âÂ
Hotch sets the arm back down. âThe unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.â He looks up at Morgan. âI donât think he has a reason for killing the children. I think heâs getting sloppyâheâs getting overwhelmed by his anger.âÂ
âYou think heâs devolving,â he says, catching on.Â
âSomething tells me weâre coming to the end of the line,â Hotch says. âWhatever he does next, heâs going out with a bang.âÂ
-
The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms arenât happy that theyâre working around the clock, the chief isnât happy that the BAU hasnât figured everything out yet, and the city isnât happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight.Â
JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their basesâthey still havenât been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city.Â
The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information.Â
âThis just isnât matching up,â Reid complains. âLucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth heâs got alibis.âÂ
âWhat are they?â Hotch asks.Â
âHe was on the road all night when the third happened,â Reid says.Â
âAnd how do we know?â Prentiss asks.Â
âGarcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,â Morgan contributes. âMustâve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.âÂ
âThe last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,â Prentiss says. âI called the leader and she said he was there.â
âDo we have footage from any of those places?â Hotch asks. âWe need to make sure.âÂ
Reid nods. âI asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through itâI canât imagine itâs easy to get all that access.âÂ
âWhat about a second unsub?â Morgan suggests.Â
Hotch shakes his head. âThese are all meant to be personal for liberationâcatharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.âÂ
âWhat about your suspect?â Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. âCould he be the unsub?âÂ
âPatrick Fenton,â Morgan says, and he shrugs. âHe fits itâdead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But heâs got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I donât see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.âÂ
âMaybe weâll figure something out in questioning,â Reid says hopefully.Â
Morganâs phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. âYouâre on speaker, babygirl.âÂ
âI found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,â Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone. Â
âAnd?â Hotch asks.Â
âI was getting there,â she says. âLucas wasnât there. He wasnât on any of the footageâhis sister was.âÂ
Hotch frowns. You?Â
âYouâre sure?â he asks.Â
âIâm always sure,â Garcia responds. âAnd I donât know if Spencer is there, but he also wasnât there at the AA meetingâI combed through the whole meeting, and he didnât show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.âÂ
âAnd youâre sure about that, too?â Hotch asks again.Â
âWhat is with this questioning of my abilities?â she asks, offended. âYes. Iâve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that Iâve got him burned into my brain.âÂ
âThanks, babygirl,â Morgan says. âWeâll call back if we need anything.âÂ
âAnd youâre always welcome in this house of miracles,â she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up.Â
âLucas gave her his card,â Reid realizes. âItâs an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.âÂ
âProbably seemed solid to him at the time,â Morgan says. âHe doesnât seem like a detail oriented guy.âÂ
Prentiss frowns. âThat means heâs back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.âÂ
Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucasâs file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. âHis father died a year ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail nine months ago after a six year stint.âÂ
âIf heâs been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?â Morgan shakes his head. âHeâd snap. It doesnât feel like justice.âÂ
âHe thinks heâs saving the kids of these parents that he kills,â Reid says. âHe sees himself in themâhe canât look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.âÂ
âHeâs trying to get back at his dad,â Prentiss says. âWe know that.âÂ
âBut thatâs not his main goal,â Reid insists. âIf his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldnât be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldnât be the battered kid.âÂ
âHis goal has always been protection,â Hotch realizes. âYes, heâs getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, heâs trying to save himself.âÂ
âBut he didnât anticipate the kids being home this time,â Prentiss says. âHe had to kill them too.âÂ
âIf heâs seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,â Reid says.Â
âHe didnât get what he wanted,â Morgan says. âThatâs gonna take a toll on him.â
âHeâs coming to the end of the line,â Prentiss nods.Â
Hotchâs brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. Theyâre so damn closeâthey just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucasâs next victim, they find him.Â
âHis next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,â Reid says.Â
âYou think itâll be a murder-suicide?â Morgan asks.Â
âItâs common with family annihilators,â Reid says. âHell, itâs common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. Itâs their way out.âÂ
And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him.Â
âIf his dad was still alive, Iâd say he would be the target. But the only one leftââ
ââis his sister,â Hotch grits out, and heâs dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him.Â
âHotch!â Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. âWhere the hell is he going?âÂ
âThe last victim,â she says as she starts following him. âThe one person he never managed to save.âÂ
âGoddammit,â Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him. Â
âWhatâs up, sugar?â she asks. âGot anymore leads?âÂ
He laughs dryly. âWeâve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road â heâs going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi andââÂ
âSend them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?â she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. âAlready on it.âÂ
âWhat would I do without you?â he asks.Â
âBe half the man and twice as sad,â she says. âIâve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.âÂ
âAlways,â he responds, and he hangs up.Â
Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of whatâs going on, because heâs in the fog of a rampage. Heâs in the driverâs seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him.Â
Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and theyâve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didnât really think of that through his haze.Â
âWeâve got an extra one for you,â Reid says, reading his mind.Â
âThank you. Iâ I know what youâre all thinkingââ Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.
âJust drive.â Her lips set themselves in a taut line. âWeâve got a murder to stop.â Â
And he does.Â
-
You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought youâd integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear.Â
Summer has fully turned to winter, and youâre as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it upâthe sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like youâre living in grayscale.Â
A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame.Â
Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, sheâs running late. You donât know if itâs a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesnât really matter. Either way, youâre stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner.Â
It parks a distance awayâthereâs no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didnât do assigned spotsâand you have to hold back a scornful scoff.Â
Of course you have to deal with this now.Â
Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surpriseâand what you think is shameâpainted on his face. He says your name when he slows down.Â
âYouâre already packed.âÂ
You shrug. âIâm nothing if not efficient.âÂ
âI couldâve helped you with all this,â Aaron says, frowning.Â
âWhy do you think itâs done already?â you ask.Â
His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
âLet me save you the pain of chivalry,â you say. âIâve got a friend coming to pick me up. Iâve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. Youâre welcome.âÂ
âYou didnât have to do that,â he says.Â
âYou know what they say about a clean break,â you intone. Â
âIâm sorry,â Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, itâs about the fiftieth time youâve heard it from him in the past two weeks.Â
âI shouldnât have let you get that coffee,â you say with a grim smile, âshould I?âÂ
His lips pull into a taut line. âI didnât cheat on you.âÂ
âI know,â you say. Itâs the one thing you do believe. âI just donât think you ever fell out of love with her.âÂ
Mercifully, you see Amyâs car pulling up in the distance. Sheâs your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit.Â
âMy rideâs here,â you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk.Â
âIâm so sorry Iâm late,â she breathes. âTraffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoyingââÂ
âDonât worry about it,â you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. âYouâre already doing me a huge favor.â Â
âI want us to still be friends,â Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him.Â
âWhy?â you ask innocently. âSo I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when Iâm in town, and then get you to leave Haley?âÂ
âThatâs not what happened,â he says, but youâre already shaking your head.Â
You take the box from him and smile thinly.Â
âHave a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesnât involve me ever again.â
-
You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. Itâs always been finicky, but you just donât have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open.Â
You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. Heâs got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.
âLucas,â you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, âI didnât know you were gonna be home tonight.â
His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. âI was wondering when you were gonna get back.â
âStole the words right out of my mouth,â you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. âThis place has been quiet without you. Wellâ except for the cops. They were pretty loud.âÂ
âThey havenât been back, have they?âÂ
You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail.Â
Your smile fades. âDonât tell me youâve been drinking.â
âOf course I havenât,â he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests.Â
âAt least youâre not high,â you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. âAnd stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.âÂ
He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops.Â
âDid you go to class today?â
âYou donât have to act like Mom,â Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff.Â
âAnd you donât have to act like a child.â You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. âIâm asking you about your dayâthatâs definitely not acting like Mom.â
âYes,â he mocks. âI went to class.â
âGood.â You glance back at him. âIâm proud of you, Luke. Youâve been making progress.âÂ
His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. âThanks. How was work?â
You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. âDonât even get me started. I swear, Marieâs going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.â
âSheâs still on it?â Luke asks, and you canât help but smile a bit.Â
âDonât act like you know what Iâm talking about,â you say. âJust agree with me.âÂ
âI agree with you,â he says.Â
âThatâs it,â you muse.Â
Your eyes fall back on your bag, and youâre reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up.Â
âOhââ You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. âThanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.âÂ
ââŠOf course,â he says, and he takes it back. âGlad I could help.âÂ
âIâll pay you back, obviously,â you say as you get back to your groceries. âI just have to wait to get paid again.âÂ
âDonât worry about it,â he says. âAnd uhâ you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?âÂ
You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. âYou have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.â
ââŠGood,â he says. âI can tell theyâve stressing you out.â
âLike that looks any different than my normal state,â you say wryly. âBesides, it wasnât that bad.âÂ
You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. Itâs almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to.Â
âYou remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?â
âI think? I was in jail, so.âÂ
You roll your eyes. âI know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.âÂ
âI remember you telling me how he broke your heart,â Luke says.Â
âThatâs not what Iâm saying.âÂ
âThen what are you saying?âÂ
âThat heâs with the FBI now. The BAU,â you enunciate, and you huff. âHeâs one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came hereâthey even brought me in for an interview.â
He frowns. âWhatâd you say?â
âThe truth.â You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. âThat I didnât know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.â You shake your head with a sigh. âThey must believe it, because they havenât come back.âÂ
âWhat have they said about me?â he asks.Â
âIâm not supposed to say.â You roll your eyes. âI think youâre innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really donât feel like dealing with thatâŠâÂ
You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. âI hope they find whoeverâs doing it, though. It is freaking me out that thereâs a murderer out there.âÂ
You pick up your knife and start cutting them upâtheyâre not the freshest, but itâs all Kroger had after workâand you glance back at Luke. âYou really shouldnât be going out so often with this going on, yâknow. I donât want you getting hurt.âÂ
âDonât worry,â he says. âIâm careful.âÂ
âI doubt that,â you say wryly. âStill, though. I worry about you.âÂ
âShouldnât it be the other way around?â he asks. âIâm your older brother.âÂ
âI worry about everything,â you say. âItâs my thing.âÂ
You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember whatâs been nagging at you your whole ride home.Â
âOhâ can you get the TV?â you ask. âChannel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her Iâd record it for her.â
Lucas doesnât respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up.Â
âThank you,â you say. âI think they have a fundraiser coming up or somethingâŠâ you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. âGod. I need to start paying attention in the break room.â
Another few seconds pass, and you donât hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. âLuke, Iâm making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.âÂ
âIâm sorry.â
The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell heâs much closer than he was before.Â
You donât even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard.Â
Then, thereâs nothing.Â
-
Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is.Â
The station isnât too far from your house, but itâs still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim theyâve had to look at.Â
It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims.Â
If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldnât be happening. Your life wouldnât be in danger.Â
His hands tighten on the steering wheel.Â
âI seriously think weâre looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,â Reid speaks up from the backseat. âThis is his way of ending this for both of themâthe ultimate protection of his sister.â
âNo one can hurt her if sheâs dead,â Morgan mutters.Â
âHotch,â Prentiss starts, treading carefully, âare you sure youâre okay to lead this?â
âYes,â he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?
You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didnât even realize were there, yesâbut heâs an agent and a professional before all of that.Â
It doesnât matter that you have history. It doesnât matter that you likely hate him.Â
It doesnât matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day. Â
Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. Itâs as simple as that.Â
Hotchâs phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. âTalk to me, Garcia.â
âJJ and Rossi are on their way,â she says. âAre you headed to their place?âÂ
âYes,â he says, and he puts it on speaker. âIâve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.âÂ
âDo you think thereâs anywhere else he could be?â Morgan asks. âIf heâs going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.âÂ
âAlready a step ahead of you, my love,â she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. âThey grew up in a house in St. Charlesâitâs abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. Iâm sending the address to Emily right now.â
Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching.Â
âTell me how to get there, Prentiss,â he says. âHeâs there.â
âYou need to get on I-70,â she says, and then her brow furrows. âHow do you know?â
âHeâs killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sisterâs rented place isnât personal enough.â Hotch shakes his head. âWhy wouldnât he want to go back to theirs to end it all?â
âHotch.â Penelopeâs voice rings out in the car, and he doesnât even realize he forgot to hang up.Â
âWhat?â
âBe careful,â she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. âI⊠I know how important this is to you.â
Hotchâs throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them awayâhe canât be weak now. He canât let his team see him be weak now. âDare I ask how?â
âI found an article about GWâs mock trial team,â she says. âKind of went down a rabbit hole from there.â
Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime agoâit honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DAâs office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night.Â
And nowâŠÂ
Hotchâs spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He canât decide whether he cares or not.Â
âThank you, Garcia.â
âNo problem,â she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. âUhâ for what, exactly?âÂ
For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesnât. He canât, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it.Â
âKeep a watch on the patrol cars,â he says instead. âUpdate JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. Iâm sure Iâm right, but we need to cover our bases.âÂ
âOf course, sir.â He hears her fingers flying across the keys. âIâve got yours and the squad carsâ locations upâIâll call them now.âÂ
âThank you,â he says.Â
âGood luck, Hotch,â Garcia says softly.Â
Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him.Â
âWeâll get him,â Prentiss assures. Sheâs been watching him this whole time, he can feel itâsheâs been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. âAnd weâll save her.âÂ
His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch canât find the words.Â
-
It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you donât know why.Â
You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes.Â
Your arms donât move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and thatâs when you realize youâre in a chairâtied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs.Â
Now the panic fully sets in. Thereâs a murderer in St. Louis, but you donât fit the victimology from what youâve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when youâre stuck in something out of a horror movie?
Lucas was the only one there with you. So either heâs in the same situation, or heâ
âYouâre finally awake,â a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops.Â
For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you donât look away from his gaze.Â
âI was worried I was too rough,â he says softly. âBut youâve always been resilient.âÂ
âLucas,â you breathe. âWhat the fuck is this?â
âItâs finally going to be over,â he says, ignoring your panic. âWeâve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.âÂ
Your brother is fucking crazy. Heâs fucking crazy, and heâs going to kill you.
Youâve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now heâs going to be proven right when he finds your dead body.Â
You try to tamp down on your panic. You donât have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but youâve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life.Â
And if thereâs ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, itâs now.Â
âYou donât have to do this,â you whisper. âWeâ we can talk if you want to talk.â You tug at your ankle restraints. âThis is unnecessary.âÂ
He shakes his head. âI know you. Youâd run.âÂ
âCome on.â You manage as much of a smile as you can. âIâve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?âÂ
ââŠYouâve always been too nice,â he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesnât have his finger on the trigger. âAnyone rational wouldâve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.âÂ
âYouâre my brother,â you whisper. âIâ I love you, Lucas. Iâd never do that to you.âÂ
âFamilyâs supposed to be everything, right?â He shakes his head. âYou were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.âÂ
âIâve always believed in you,â you say.Â
He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. âYouâre definitely the only one.â
You shake your head. âThatâs not true.âÂ
âMom didnât care enough to stop anything,â he says, leaning back in his chair. âAnd Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didnât have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.âÂ
You canât defend your parents. Your dadâs a piece of shit, and your mom didnât stop anything he didâbut you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises.Â
âIâve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,â Lucas says. âAnd that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.â
You remember when you got the news. You were next of kinâyour mother was dead, and your brother was incarceratedâso you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montanaâapparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to deathâand you donât know if youâve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyerâs office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided.Â
âSo you killed all of those people?â you asked. âBecause you didnât get to kill our dad first?âÂ
âI was saving those kids!â Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. âSaving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!âÂ
âYou donât have to do this,â you repeat. âYouâre just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.âÂ
âAnd thatâs the zinger, isnât it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. âHe was right. Weâre a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and youâŠâ He shakes his head with a sigh. âYou should be out there prosecuting people like me.â
âHe ruined us,â Luke murmurs. âAnd Iâm finally going to fix it.âÂ
All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You canât find the words, but you donât have to.Â
Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. âOf course.â He eyes you. âDonât go anywhere.âÂ
âI wouldnât dare,â you say weakly.Â
When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because theyâre so decrepit, but you could never forget.Â
Luke brought you back to your childhood homeâthe place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. Itâs abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. Thereâs a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to collegeâexcept with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out.Â
You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw your way back through the gates of Hell inch by inchâyou will not die here.Â
You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you canât help but flinch. He wonât. Not now.Â
âLooks like your friends the FBI are here,â he drawls. âYou said you didnât tell them anything.âÂ
âI didnât,â you insist. âTheyâre profilersâthey figure things out.âÂ
He shakes his head. âThey donât realize that I have to do this.â Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. âThis is the only way to end our pain.âÂ
He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind youâyou want to protest, but you donât get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and heâs got fire blazing in his eyes.
âFBI,â he barks. âHands up.â
Lucas doesnât seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. Heâs going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head.Â
âIâm afraid I canât do that,â he says smoothly. âThis is a family matter.âÂ
âPut the gun down, Lucas,â Aaron says.Â
âYou know my name,â he says. âI know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.â
âPut the gun down,â he repeats.Â
âI donât think I will,â Luke says. âYou see, I donât go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.â He tilts his head to the side. âBut you know that, donât you? Youâre all profilers.âÂ
âYouâve been targeting families that look like your own,â he says. âYou think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.âÂ
âI donât think it,â he bites, âI know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldnât be here right now.âÂ
âThis isnât going to bring you peace,â Aaron says. âYour sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?âÂ
âTrust me,â Luke says. âIâm not losing her.âÂ
He flicks the safety off and you flinch. Heâs going to kill you.Â
âPut the gun down,â another agent warns.Â
âIf you all donât leave right now, Iâll shoot her.â Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. âExcept you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.â
âWeâre not doing that,â the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think.Â
âReally?â Luke chuckles. âYou think you hold the cards here?âÂ
âItâs okay,â Aaron says. âGo.âÂ
Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they donât doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave.Â
âWow,â Luke muses. âThey really trust you.âÂ
âBecause I know you donât want to hurt her,â Aaron says. âDeep down, you know youâre not protecting her. Not by hurting her.âÂ
âIâm not hurting her,â he says. âSheâs always been the one to keep me safe over the yearsâIâm finally paying the favor back. Iâm finally taking her pain away.â
âYou were abused as children. Both of you.â Aaron looks at your brother. âYour sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. Youâre her older brother. Youâre the one that was supposed to protect her.â
âMy sister said youâre profilers,â he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell itâs starting to get to him. âIs that what youâre doing right now? Profiling me?âÂ
âYou would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,â Aaron continues. âAll you had was your sister, and even that wasnât good enoughâyou hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didnât think he was a good person.âÂ
Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. âShut up.âÂ
âYour sister has told me you can be more than this,â he says. âAnd I think sheâs right. Youâre better than thisâbetter than living between the margins and jail.âÂ
âIâve had a hole in my chest since I was born,â Luke mutters. âAnd Iâve tried to stop it, but itâs just grown and grown and grown. Thisâ this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. Youâve got it tooâ I know it.âÂ
âIâ I do,â you say. And youâre not lying. Youâve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that youâve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. âAnd it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help youâwe can both walk out of here.âÂ
âNo,â he whispers. âNoâwe canât.â Â
âYes, we can,â you plead. âI love you, Luke. Iâll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if thatâs what it takes to get rid of that hole.âÂ
For a moment, he doesnât say anything. For a moment, you think youâve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you.Â
âIâve never been able to protect her,â Luke murmurs. âNot from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.â He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. âBut that all ends now.âÂ
You screw your eyes shut. You donât want to see Aaronâs face when your brother kills you.Â
And then it happens so quickly you barely process it.Â
Thereâs two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. Thereâs a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brotherâs lifeless body fall to the ground.Â
You scream againâyou canât even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath itâand Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and theyâre talking, but you canât focus on a single goddamn thing because your brotherâs dead body is right next to you.Â
Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him.Â
Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force.Â
Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now heâs dead.Â
The only part you had left of your familyâgone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake.Â
Aaronâs soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.
âIâm so sorry,â he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. âYouâre safe now. Youâre safe.â
âHeâs gone,â you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. âHeâs gone, and he tried toââ
A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaronâs arms.Â
âI know.â
Aaronâs fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment.Â
âYou were shot,â he says with your name. âWe have to get you to a hospital.âÂ
You donât even feel it. God, you donât feel anything. Thereâs a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers.Â
But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron.Â
âGet an EMT in here!â he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. âWeâve got a GSWâ sheâs losing blood fast!âÂ
You can feel Aaronâs rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours.Â
âAaron,â you whisper, your strength fading. You donât think he hears you.
He helps you up and youâre suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and heâs beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like theyâre made of concrete.Â
âAaron,â you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. âThank you.âÂ
And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name.Â
Itâs not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die.Â
-
You wake up in the hospital alone. Â
You donât know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you.Â
The real surprise is that you wake up at all.Â
Lucas is dead.Â
He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded.Â
You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesnât exactly feel real.Â
Youâve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospitalâwell and truly alone for the first time in your life.Â
You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and youâre thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day.Â
Who are you kidding? Youâre going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all.Â
You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and youâve got the worst headache of your life.Â
And you canât stop playing it all over in your mind.Â
He was going to kill you.Â
Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU.Â
Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner.Â
The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do youâapparently the devil appears even when you think of him.Â
âYouâre awake,â Aaron says after a moment. Itâs the third time heâs sounded surprised since youâve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you.Â
But thereâs relief there, too.
He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside.Â
âHow long have you been here?â you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly.Â
Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. âThree days.âÂ
âAnd how long have I been here?âÂ
âThree days,â he says. âYou suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and⊠you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.âÂ
You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. ââŠYour brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to⊠keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one offâthankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.â
âHow bad was it?â you ask.Â
Aaron glances away. âYou died on the table. They managed to bring you back, butâŠâÂ
âI guess Luke did succeed,â you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesnât laugh, and you glance away too. âSorry. Bad time for jokes.âÂ
He shakes his head. âIf anyoneâs allowed to joke about this, itâs you.âÂ
Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looksâ god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you canât imagine you look much better. Â
âYou were out for two days after,â he explains. âThis is the first time youâve woken up.â
âWhy are you here, Aaron?â you ask quietly. âWhy have you been here?âÂ
Aaron frowns. âWhere else would I be?â
Your throat feels like itâs closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start.Â
âMy brother was a serial killer, Aaron.â Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. âHe killed ten people while he was living with me and Iâ and I didnât even fucking notice.â Your gaze moves back to him. âI went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.âÂ
âItâs not a crime to want to see the best in people,â he says. âEspecially your family.âÂ
âItâs a crime to fucking murder people,â you huff, and itâs only slightly unhinged. âIâ I thought I knew him, and I didnât. And if I did, maybe none of these people wouldâve had to die.â
âDonât blame this on yourself,â Aaron demands. âLucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protectionânothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.âÂ
You shake your head. âIt might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but Iâ I canât. Heâs my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to familiesâ god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!âÂ
âIt is not your fault,â he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. âHe was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and thatâs nothing new.âÂ
âI just donât know what to do.â Youâve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everythingâs come to a head and youâre in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. âI have to plan a funeral because Iâm the only one left to plan one, butâ but does he even deserve one? Heâs a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for godâs sake, but heâs my brother and even though heâs gone heâs still all I have left andââÂ
You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same.Â
âAnd I just donât know what to do,â you repeat, barely a whisper.Â
You meet Aaronâs eyes, almost desperately. You feel like youâll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life.Â
âWhatever you do,â he says, âyou donât have to do it alone. Not if you donât want to.âÂ
âAaron,â you start shakily, but he continues.Â
âI know what you think, and thatâs not what Iâm suggesting.â Aaron pauses for a moment, and itâs obvious how carefully heâs crafting his words. âIâve⊠always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isnât the way I wouldâve liked to meet you again. But Iâm thankful I have.â
He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize itâs his business card, and itâs got his number.Â
âIâm sorry for the formality,â he says dryly, âbut I donât exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.âÂ
You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner.Â
âYears ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didnât want to be involved in it,â he says, still treading carefully. You canât believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. âButâ but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.âÂ
âIâd like you to be a part of my life again,â Aaron finally says, âif you want to be a part of mine.â
For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyesâcoffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehowâŠ
Somehow, youâve ended up on a completely different side together.Â
âMy life isnât going to be easy,â you say faintly. âEspecially⊠moving through this.âÂ
âMy life isnât easy either,â he says. âIâm divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.âÂ
âItâs not a contest.â An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaronâs lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit.Â
âGetting through this certainly wonât be easy,â he agrees. âBut I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.âÂ
âI imagine youâre pretty busy,â you murmur. âUnit chief and all.âÂ
Aaron shrugs. âI make time for the things I care about.âÂ
Thankfully, you donât have to figure out how to respond to that, because thereâs a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.
âItâs good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,â the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out.Â
âItâs nice to be awake,â you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the roomâto add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume.Â
âIâll give you some time alone,â Aaron says.
Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. Itâs fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel. Â
âDonât go,â you plead, and itâs almost a whisper. âIâ justâ please.âÂ
Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down.Â
âOkay.âÂ
And he stays.Â
This time, he stays.
#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it#i wrote 15k words in 5 days#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner imagine#sadie writes
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hii, first of all, sorry for my bad english
this may sound weird, but lately i've been thinking of aventurine turning in a cat. like, for some strange reason (maybe during a mission), he turned in a cute little cat. and since reader doesn't know he's a cat, he feels free to enjoy all reader's affection, and maybe to let his emotions win and cry while being caressed. and then he turns human and he's crying enough to fill a swimming pool. idk if i explained well :(
tysm, i love love love your works!! â€ïž
AWWW THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST and don't worry your English is perfectly fine! It's not my native language as well so I get the struggle tho
I love making my faves cry so there's a possibility that I've got a bit carried away lol
taking care of cat!Aventurine
edits by @keisieudeptry on twitter
characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of cuddles, nÌ·ÍÍÌłÍoÌ”ÌÌ©Í ÌžÌÍ̧b̶ÍÌÌłeÌ”ÍÍÌtÌŽÌÌŁÌ©aÌ”ÌÌÌȘÍ
Aventurine
Listen, he's always on alert okay. This man rarely allows himself to relax, especially when he's on another one of his business trips.
And he knows what to expect. Lies, attempts on his life, threats etc. He has seen it all.
But this. This. This is something new. Of course anything can happen when you're dealing with The Masked fools but this? Being turned into a cat? In what place this is even funny? It is kinda funny tho just not for Aven
He knows better than to panic. Yes, being turned into a tiny orange cat was not a part of his plans. Yes, this is probably the most defenseless and vulnerable state he's been in since his childhood. Yes, this sucks. But hey not like panicking will change anything.
Instead he just sits in the corner, feeling incredibly anxious and dreadful. His only hope is that this shapeshifting trick won't last for long.
A huge wave of relief washes over him when he sees a familiar person. And not just any person but you. The only person who can put his restless mind at ease, at least for a short time. He wouldn't mind seeing Topaz or Ratio too but it's much better when it's you.
He quickly realizes, however, that his joy was premature. He can't communicate with you! And you don't know that this is him! So the only thing poor Aven can do is follow you around and... meow. It's almost humiliating. Too bad he doesn't have time to care.
Soon enough you give up at finally pick up the oddly familiar cat. Every time you try to put the cat down it starts meowing and running after you so the only thing you can do is pick it up and carry around like a potato.
And you know how it is with cats, once you put your hands on one you can't stop petting it. You run your fingers through the cat's fur absently, while checking you phone for any messages from Aventurine. Hugging the cat, pressing your face to it's soft fur. Something about it surely reminds you of Aven. The thought, no matter how childish it is, brings a small smile on your face.
And poor, poor Aven. For so long he's been longing for your touch while laying awake at night, his poor heart flattered every time your fingers brushed against his. He wants wants wants to melt into your embrace yet this is not allowed for him.
How can he ask for it without exposing the deepest and darkest parts of his soul. How can he open his heart to you without reveling all the ugly, fragile parts.
He wants to be open with you, he really does. Yet it's so unreasonably hard. Would you kiss his head like you do now if you would know how empty he is inside? Would he be able to press his forehead into you palm, asking for more more more without feeling exposed?
In a way, it's good that right now he's in this form. He doesn't really have to think about anything, doesn't have to feel anxious about revealing too much. He can just enjoy in.
You two fall asleep just like that and he doesn't have to overthink, he can just crawl to you side, nuzzling up to you.
You can't help but notice that the kitten in your arms is trembling slightly. And when you pull it closer in order to provide some warmth and comfort it just purrs and meows pitifully. Almost like it's⊠crying.
Now listen. I'm 100% sure Aven is a light sleeper. So there's no way he won't wake up from a loud gasp and a lot of movements near him.
Well. Seems like the shapeshifting trick the masked fool pulled on him lasted only for 12 hours. And now he lays on the couch in his human form while you look at him with the wide eyes.
Awkward.
His initial reaction is to laugh it off. "Surprised, dear? It's a shame you can't see your own face right now ha ha". Would explain the whole situation, trying to make it seem like it was not a big deal. No mention of you cuddling session tho. Max he would say is "my, my, didn't know you where such a cat person".
However, his smile freezes immediately when you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Well. Here goes all of his feigned confidence.
Here is this feeling again. Your warmth, you scent, the comfort your touch brings. You telling how you started to get worried and how relieved you are that he didn't get hurt. It cuts so deep, makes him feel so exposed yet so needed. Loved even.
At first he doesn't even get it why your eyes get even wider, why a look so lost and worried all of the sudden. Only when your hands hesitantly cup his cheeks and you ask him what's wrong he realizes that there are tears in his eyes.
You know those tears when they just drop from your eyes and it's not like you're hysterical or crying uncontrollably but the tears just keep coming and coming and the more you try to calm down , the worse it gets? Yeah, him.
Would almost automatically tell you that everything is fine. When you confront him, pointing out that he's literally crying, will get even more confused than you. "Hah, seems like you're right, dear" he says with a small smile, giving up on the idea of hiding it from you. After all, it's too late for that anyway.
It feels... not even humiliating, no. It's weird, scary even, to be so open around someone. To be stripped of his mask so suddenly.
And yet he doesn't have time to care when your hands hold him oh so tenderly, when you cup his face and ask him what's wrong.
"Nothing, nothing, really. Just getting a bit sentimental here. Just... hold me like that for a bit more, 'kay?" he manages to whisper with a faint smile before pressing his face in the crook of your neck.
God feeling his tears on your skin feels so surreal. And heartbreaking too.
With each tender touch he gets even more emotional, to the point when he literally chokes on his own tears. Please hold him, run your fingers through his hair, kiss the top of his head.
He just doesn't get it, it feels so good to be held by you, why does his stupid heart hurts so much then?
Honestly he didn't cry for so long and there are so many repressed feelings, just let him let it all out.
He'll probably fall asleep in your arms, feeling very exhausted after the sudden emotional outburst. In the morning would act like nothing has happened, making some dismissing comments about him being a bit overdramatic last night. Don't let him withdraw into himself but don't push him to open up too much as well.
Just touch him more often from now on, especially when he looks like he had a bad day. And eventually he'll turn into your lap cat, reaching out for your warmth himself with or without reason.
"You're being clingy again" "Am not <Đ" all while sitting on your lap.
You've domesticated him so good luck.
#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr aventurine#aventurine#aventurine x reader#walp's writing#fell in love with this request the moment i saw it
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The 'Aziraphale Still Believes in Heaven' Take
Is one that I see so often. Too often. The way many fans (still) say Aziraphale is so naĂŻve, he's never learned anything, he never changes, Metatron just offered him a promotion and he happily jumped on it. Happy to go back to Heaven. Still in their clutches. Leaving Crowley behind. Cos nothing lasts forever. Amirite? Poor long-suffering Crowley. So patient. Goes through so much. Aww. Takes that say that because Crowley never told Aziraphale about the venom in Gabriel's "Shut your stupid mouth and die already", Aziraphale has no idea that Heaven is not the good guys, that he still believes they are on the side of truth and light.
Takes that claim Aziraphale wants Crowley to come to Heaven and be an angel again so they can be happy like in the good old times. Takes that basically say that Aziraphale is stupid. And blind. LISTEN Do you mean this Aziraphale:
Who knew before Crowley did that something is rotten in the state of Denmark, that things are wrong and one can get in a lot of trouble for a thing as minor as a suggestion to improve things. Is this the Aziraphale that would seriously suggest to Crowley, who he was immediately deeply anxious over, to go back to 'good old times'? What good old times? How is Heaven a place of light when:
A bunch of angels comes down to Earth to bully and PUNCH ONE OF THEIR OWN?
Why would he think they are the light when they shame him for being who he is?
And yes, Aziraphale wants to do good. But that's not tied to him being an angel. And it's not a bad thing ffs! Crowley does good as well. Aziraphale might be the only one who knows, but he knows. Maybe getting humans out of the Garden to seek knowledge was always a (certainty) possibility, and maybe not, but it was Aziraphale's decision to arm them.
And She didn't make him Fall for it. And do you remember when:
Aziraphale first openly questioned that Heaven was actually doing what God actually wanted? He had a think after the Flood, didn't he. He did what he thought was right. He trusted Crowley over his fellow angels, with his own sense of rightness. He and Crowley saved the kids that Aziraphale triple checked the Archangels saw no problem in letting die to make things easier. And She didn't make him Fall for it. In Edinburgh:
Az re-evaluated the thinking he was taught and did a full 180 degree turn, trying in few hours to save the grave-robbing girl AND the possible future lives of children that could be helped via more learning. And when we come to Metatron and his threats, we don't see the full conversation, but don't we see enough? Aziraphale says that he's not interested. Metatron keeps nagging at him. Pushing the symbolic coffee from Coffee or Death at him. Flattering him with obvious untruths. After all, Aziraphale knows what Heaven thinks of him. He tried to reason with Metatron before. Metatron tells him they know how deep his disobedience lies:
Aziraphale is not a fool. He knows this is an offer of come quietly or we will find a way to destroy you and your demon this time. Aziraphale didn't have to hear Metatron's quip of: "For one prince of Heaven to be cast into the outer darkness makes a good story. For it to happen twice, makes it look like there is some kind of institutional problem." He knows the system is rotten. He knows for a LONG time. Did you see his face when he met Muriel and realised what a lonely sad existence they lead.
AND Crowley doesn't love Aziraphale despite the fact that he's being used to get out of trouble, being made to listen about random things the angel enjoys from symphonies to food and plays, and who continues to believe in goodness and kindness. CROWLEY LOVES AZIRAPAHLE BECAUSE OF THOSE THINGS AND because he sees Aziraphale for what he is, an angel who thinks for himself, changes his mind, learns, angel who is brave, who stands for the right thing, who sacrifices his own happiness for the safety of others, especially the demon he loves. They are the same. They are lonely. They are one of a kind. And they love each other.
Aziraphale wants to stay at home. In the home he built for himself and Crowley. On Earth where he's found so much to love. But he knows it is impossible. As Crowley confesses his love, Aziraphale struggles to stay on his plan to push him away, to make him stay. He'll miss Crowley terribly. He wants them to be together. For him, they were an 'us' the whole S2. However tenuously. Fragile existence and all that.
But even this was ripped away from him. And whatever he's planning, he knows he needs to do the first steps on his own. He can't submit Crowley to the torture that being in Heaven is going to be for him, an unwanted, despised angel. And that would be even worse for an unwanted demon. He had to push him away.
So he leaves. Furious. And determined. Whether it is to burn the place down or find God and ask Her all the questions to Her face I don't know. But his love will push him through.
And if I see one more simplistic take of the snarky demon is really good isn't he, so that means the stuffy angel is bad (and needs to change to be worthy of the demon) I will curse their dreams with lines about shades of grey. AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY ALREADY LOVE EACH OTHER
#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#neil gaiman#good omens 2#ineffable divorce#good omens thoughts#aziraphale my beloved#aziraphale is such a bastard#aziraphale defense squad#good omens meta#hc#the final fifteen#season 2#kaypost
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